AU: This story is an alternate universe and there are more differences than just merely the school.

Note: I'm planning an AU story with Kuroko at the same school with each of the GoM. I have to rewrite chapter 2 of Left Behind if you are reading that because the flow is off. The good thing is at least my failed draft covers several scenes for chapter 3 so they'll be updated close together.

Separation

Prologue: Where From Here?

The gymnasium felt empty. It had been a long time since it felt full. According to the coach's orders, the Generation of Miracles would be the central focus. It left little room for other players unless it was to conserve energy.

Aomine had been the first one to stop coming; he'd been the first to bloom. It hadn't take long for the other's vast potential to start showing either with them skipping practices too. Kuroko always knew they were talented. He could tell that while his teammates were now way above everyone else, they were still exponentially getting better. They were, however, hindered by their body's limitations. They were still middle school students.

Only the vice-captain was the only one of the Generation of Miracles who still continued to come to practice regularly. It was only once in a blue moon another member came and was usually only because they were bored.

Kuroko took a shot at the net. Hisattempt was pathetic compared to Midorima who vigorously practiced on the other side of the gym. The shooting guard may believe in luck but he also valued the importance of practice. He was envious of course. He wished he had the talent that the others had to become the best too. Instead he stuck to what he could do to be useful to the team. With their growth he would have to improve too. It was hard to think of something he was capable of though to get better when the rest of the team already were covering the holes pretty well.

"Midorima-kun, could you teach me how to shoot," the phantom player asked as the vice-captain once again scored with a swish.

Midorima stopped his mechanic movements of shooting. With a tapped finger he pushed his glasses up which had slid a bit from perspiration. "I can't."

He looked over to where Kuroko stood. He had a ball in hand waiting patiently as if waiting to be told more. Despite the sixth player's void expression, his eyes glinted like a pleading dog.

"Your style is unorthodox," Midorima finally gave in. It wasn't like he was against helping to begin with. He was the opposite of Aomine who understood Kuroko's play through instinct. While he didn't fully grasp his teammate's play, his deductions and estimations gave him a well enough idea how they worked. It was just his reservedness and individualism that made interaction uncomfortable for him sometimes. It wasn't bad; just odd.

"What's considered a normal shooting stance won't work for you. You'll need a new stance. You can't aim at the net like you're passing to someone. The angle won't allow it as it will either hit the rim, or if chance has it that it does have enough angle to hit the backboard, your passes have too much strength and it will still miss. Even if you adapt your strength the surprise element has always been your strength and slow speed will get you blocked."

Some people would take the comment to be condescending as it pointed out Kuroko's flaws. Kuroko smiled, though. "Thank you." There was actually much advice in his words.

"I didn't do it for you. I did it as vice-captain."

Kuroko just looked at him knowingly. The expression irritated him. Their blood really wasn't compatible.

.

The Generation of Miracles were considered monsters by the other schools. Kuroko was somewhat blinded by this statement. Of course he understood that their talent was beyond everyone else, himself included, but the other students' commentaries were menacing not of awe. Maybe it was because he was used to playing with them, spending time with them-they were his friends. He had fun with them. He would admit they were changing and it hurt as it felt they were so far away, but it took him a while to realize the extent of the change.

Their opponents were giving up. His teammates were getting bored as there was no real competition. Victory was a given. Not that any of them wanted to lose, but the thrill of not knowing the outcome had been long gone. Everyone was miserable.

He too was starting to feel the effects. he still played in games but he was needed less and less. In most cases, one or two of the others could probably take on a whole team. To cure their boredom they started competing against each other.

All but Midorima.

.

The semi-finals were in process against Kamata West Middle School. They weren't particularly happy when they were losing, even with some of the so called Generation of Miracles on the bench. They had worked so hard but had bad sportsmanship and decided to act violently in response.

Kuroko had been able to dodge for the most part but got elbowed on his arm. He felt pain shoot through him. He didn't scream but he winced and grabbed his own forearm. When asked if he could continue, he lied and said yes. Momoi wanted him out, but he wanted to keep playing. At this rate he wouldn't even get to play Ogiwara. It was the end of the season and he wanted to keep playing. Especially if their opponents were going to be like that.

He used his left arm when he could, but using his right arm had to eventually come. Four times in the remaining time he was on the court did he use his right hand. Every time he used it the overwhelming pain return. His arm was throbbing by the time he was finally subbed out.

"Tetsu-kun?!" As the game continued, Momoi noticed that his arm was bruising, and, more noticeably, swelling. In the end, she had to drag him to the infirmary.

For the next month he wasn't allowed to play and only use his arm with activities involving minimum strain. Apparently, he was lucky he didn't fracture his arm.

In the end, he didn't get to play Ogiwara but he got to watch the match. How was he supposed to respond to it? The result was obvious. His teammates, especially all on at once, was no match for Ogiwara's team. Could he really expect anything different? He wanted to be angry at his team-and he was for their attitude-but could he really blame them for having raw talent?

It was why he was empathic towards Ogiwara. He felt terrible how the loss happened, but at the same time there was nothing the winners could say to the losers.

In a moment Ogiwara had changed from being strong-willed to being completely crushed. Was he really going to let one game ruin the fun he had in every other game?

Kuroko didn't understant. He was sure it sucked to lose. He'd been in that position enough times. He worked hard and climbed up despite all the rejection and lack of support. Yet Ogiwara was going to quit because of one undefeatable team. Just like so many other players...It was foolish. They wanted to play right? They would probably all wind up at different schools next year. The season was over so they would only play again if they had practice matches. There were so many other players...other teams! Yet so many were quitting because of one team.

It frustrated him.

He remembered Ogiwara's words: "It's your fault. You're just like them."

Kuroko was miserable because he wasn't having fun with his team anymore, but he still looked up to his team on a skill level. If he was going to miserable either way, he wished he was like the rest of the team. He wanted to be talented. He wanted to be at their level.

How could basketball cause all this?

.

"Do you know what school you want to attend yet, Tetsuya?"

Kuroko had been reading when his grandmother came to sit next to him. She had brought tea out for the both of them. He thanked her before taking a sip. It was refreshing.

"Not yet."

The others were all getting offers from various schools. They were being admitted through scouting. As usual, he was different and actually had to sit and take entrance exams.

"Preferably in Tokyo." He didn't mind travelling, but he would rather spend his time otherwise.

"Is that so." She stared at her grandson wishing he would open up with her, or at least her daughter or son-in-law. It was subtle, but he'd been different lately. "If you need any help then let you know. Your obaa-san is here for you."