Warning: Strong language and sexual themes. I debated with myself between making it a T or an M-rated story and decided that it's probably somewhere in the middle. I have also decided to refer to the three main characters by their first names in this story. Somehow, I felt this was more appropriate.

"… there'd be a natural ebb and flow that reminded you of how rhythmic and musical basketball is supposed to be." - Bill Russell, five-time NBA Most Valuable Player, when describing the Zone.

When Aomine Daiki was a grade schooler, he had a habit of laughing at the wrong moments. He just couldn't help himself. He was a rascal, plain and simple, and whenever he got into mischief, he grinned and barked in laughter and gave himself away immediately. Momoi Satsuki grew up knowing the sound of his laughter the same way she knew the sound of a basketball bouncing against the pavement. Even years later, when she listened to the sounds of streetball, she sometimes closed her eyes and imagined she could still hear Daiki's laughter ringing out amid hollow thuds.

When Daiki was young, he had two distinct ways of laughing: The first was the one he did whenever he thought something was uproariously funny; invariably, he would double over and point, all the while snorting and hiccoughing uncontrollably. Usually, he laughed like that when he played a prank on Satsuki, and she would stand with her hands on her hips and huff and fume at him, thinking she would never forgive him ever. His second laugh was the sheepish one he did whenever someone told him off. Daiki never said sorry, but the laugh always said it for him. And even if it infuriated Satsuki that he laughed when she was mad, she always did end up forgiving him after all, because, really, what else could you do?

When Daiki stopped laughing, his second type of laughter was the one that dwindled away first. His first type came back, but only as a wholly unrecognisable beast.

For Satsuki, when Daiki's laughter became scornful and filled to the brim with malice, it felt like time stopped altogether.

This is a story.
Let's call it:
Equilibrium in Vertigo
because, did you know, the Earth moves faster than any rocket we've ever built?
And we've never felt it once,
even though it's been under our feet this whole time?

one;

Teikou Middle School's basketball club was at its peak when Kuroko Tetsuya resigned. He vanished as if he had never been there to begin with – noiselessly, inconspicuously, a cause of no fuss or drama. He spoke some quiet words to the captain and after that, he just never came back.

Satsuki still saw him around in school, usually just sitting in the library reading a book quietly. He had always been hard to notice, but after he left the basketball club, it was almost like he had dropped off the face of the planet altogether. Even Satsuki, who knew all the members of the Generation of Miracles like the back of her own hand, had to really look to find him. As for Daiki, he just didn't bother.

("Tetsu-kun's in the library," Satsuki told him brightly. "Why don't we go talk to him, Dai-chan?"

"Nah, don't feel like it," Daiki retorted with a yawn. "I've been here for three years and I've never been to the library once. I'm on a roll."

"What roll?" Satsuki snorted.

"I haven't even opened a book this year," Daiki said smugly. "Not even my textbook."

"That's not something you should be happy about…")

So in the end, Satsuki would go to see Tetsuya by herself, and when she did, she would tell herself that it's fine, it's fine, we're all fine. When she approached him for the first time, she hugged him tightly around his waist and said, "I missed you, Tetsu-kun! Why'd you quit the team like that? I've been so lonely!"

It was a barrage of words that tumbled sloppily out of her mouth and onto his ears, and even she couldn't detect much meaning in what she said. Tetsuya just sat there placidly and digested it all slowly, his expression neutral.

"Momoi-san, you mustn't speak so loudly in the library," he said, closing his book.

Satsuki giggled – same old Tetsu-kun. The thought relieved her. "I'm sorry," she said, sitting down beside him. "But, you know, I do miss you. We all do. Even Midorin, I bet."

"Somehow, I doubt that," said Tetsuya.

"Okay, so maybe that was pushing it a little," Satsuki conceded. Sitting up straight, she stretched, and as she did, she searched a little blindly for something to say. Her woman's intuition told her that Tetsuya did not want company right now and she never doubted her intuition. Even so…

"Why did you leave, Tetsu-kun? I mean, I guess I kind of understand, but…"

"Momoi-san."

He had that quiet way of speaking that made her want to hang on to every word he said. It wasn't that he whispered – you could just tell that he chose his words very carefully. When he spoke, it seemed everything went a little quiet around her ears.

"I quit because I don't like basketball anymore."

They were the words she expected to hear, but even so, they broke her heart. She knew what kind of team Teikou had become. As the manager, she'd played her part in making it become like that.

For the first time, Satsuki found she was unable to look Tetsuya in the eyes.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Tetsu-kun."

"No, it's fine."

For a moment after that, he did not say anything, which made Satsuki think he was finished talking. But then he went on:

"I'm envious of you, Momoi-san."

"Really?" she said in surprise. "Why?"

"Because you still love basketball," he explained. "I can tell. You love it more than any of us."

By 'any of us', he was talking about the Generation of Miracles, or her boys, as she liked to think of them. She laughed and scratched her ear, tossing a strand of her long pink hair over her shoulder. "I always did love watching you all grow," she said, chuckling a little. "Even if it's a little scary at times."

Tetsuya tilted his head to look at her and his mouth curled up slightly into a small smile. His smile held no promises, though, just a hint of nostalgia that she knew she returned when she smiled back at him.

Tetsuya was not by conventional standards very handsome. His plainness was almost striking in a way, in that she found herself focusing her attention on him because it was just so hard to notice him normally. Tetsuya had the kind of face that grew on you the more you looked at it. He was good-looking because there was nothing ugly about him.

"Tetsu-kun, I love you!" she squealed suddenly, unable to contain herself any longer. "You're so cute! Kyaaaaaa!"

A stern cough interrupted her squealing. Satsuki turned around to see the dour-faced librarian, who seemed even less amused than usual.

"I told you that you mustn't raise your voice in a library," said Tetsuya, as he watched the librarian drag Satsuki out the door.

For Satsuki, basketball reminded her of a long summer afternoon where she could feel the sun's lazy heat trickle across her face and settle into bubbling contentment inside her stomach. It made her think of ice cream and the chirping of cicadas and summer festivals, of outdoor adventures and the warm hand and broad back of an older brother she never had.

Satsuki got into basketball the same way Daiki did, which is to say she had no idea how it all started. Sometimes, she wondered if she and Daiki were born with basketballs in hand. It wasn't that she actually played basketball herself; her earliest childhood memories were of her watching Daiki score dunks in a makeshift hoop he had set up in his backyard. She wasn't sure how many hours a day she sat in attention, mesmerised by Daiki and his basketball. Later on, when she became exposed to competitive basketball, she would only become more convinced of Daiki's inherent genius. Even later, she became conscious of her own genius – in being able to predict just where he would go from there.

In the end, Tetsuya was right: when it came to the Generation of Miracles, Satsuki was the only one who still loved basketball with the same all-consuming passion she had in her childhood. After the last tournament and Tetsuya's resignation, however, things in Teikou's basketball team were just never the same. Or maybe it had never been the same to begin with.

As it turned out, the final nail in the coffin came from Daiki.

There was no real point in attending club practice once the last tournament was over, but Teikou enforced it anyway. Victory for next year was the primary thought in mind. The Generation of Miracles was graduating and even though next year's team had absolutely no hope of being as strong, Satsuki held no doubt that they would continue to reign as kings. The remaining members of the Generation of Miracles turned up to every practice with the sole intent of passing down their skills and techniques. Except for Daiki, of course. Daiki was always the exception, never the rule.

As usual, Satsuki found him stretched out lazily on the school rooftop. It had quickly become his favourite haunt whenever he played truant.

"You didn't come to practice," she said to him a little sadly as she smoothed over her skirt and sat down beside him.

He was staring lethargically up at the opaque blue sky and only grunted in reply.

"It was the last practice of the year, you know," Satsuki went on, glancing meaningfully at him. "I thought you'd come to that, at least."

"I have better things to do," said Daiki simply, and rolled over.

"What, like sitting around scratching your ass all day?"

He lifted his head a little bit and peered at her, looking somewhat nonplussed.

"Geez, what's got you in such a shitty mood?"

"It's just-" Satsuki inhaled, before turning back to Daiki and throwing him an exasperated pout, "-we're all going to graduate, Dai-chan! I thought, at least, it would be something a little meaningful…"

Daiki said nothing.

Satsuki went on, a little shakily, "It's the last time we'll all be together like this, Dai-chan…"

"Look, honestly," said Daiki. "I don't give a flying fuck."

Satsuki puffed out her cheeks and glared at him.

"I don't care," Daiki went on, "because basketball is boring. There's really no point to it. Fuck, I'm hungry. I want some bread."

Hearing this, Satsuki turned away, averting her face. She just couldn't talk to him.

"Hey, look, Satsuki, it's not your fault," Daiki said with a shrug. "Anyway, about the team, it doesn't matter because I'm not gonna play basketball next year. Hey, could you get me some bread from the cafeteria?"

Satsuki froze.

"Oi, didn't you hear what I asked you?"

Instead of responding to that, Satsuki swung around, staring wide-eyed at her childhood friend. Her heart was thumping painfully; it felt as if he had a punched a hole through it.

"Are you serious, Dai-chan?" she asked in a strained whisper. "You, quit basketball?"

Daiki frowned. It seemed that for a moment that he didn't know how to react. Then he just tossed his head back and settled back down where he had been lying on the floor.

"Well, yeah," he said in a low, almost subdued sort of tone. "You know how it is. The better I get the less fun it is. The only one who can beat me is me. It's a fucking joke. Maybe I should just do what Tetsu did and just qui-"

Satsuki slapped him.

Daiki simply stared at her. Then his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes narrowed even further and he leaned forward so that his forehead touched against Satsuki's. With a sudden swift, furious motion, he grabbed her by the arms and pushed her to the ground. His brutal strength was just sickening to behold; even he didn't know the full extent of it.

"What'd you do that for, you idiot?" he roared.

She didn't answer. Instead, she burst into tears.

"O-Oi!" Daiki exclaimed, realising his mistake. He really hadn't meant to hurt Satsuki. "Stop that! What're you crying for? Hey! Hey!"

His voice sounded like a distant entity to her. Covering her face with her hands, Satsuki scrambled to her feet and ran.

The scouts from Touou High approached her the next day. They came to her house, an action that under normal circumstances would have both surprised and flattered her. The Touou scouts had really done their research.

It was the first time Satsuki met the affable, bespectacled Imayoshi. He was polite enough when he talked to her and he even treated her to lunch. It was quite obvious to her, however, that these pleasantries were punctuated by what was really on his mind: basketball.

"I'll get straight to the point," he said, after they had finished eating and had put their bowls to the side. The din of chatter in the restaurant quietened down now that the lunch hour was past, and Satsuki felt her attention heighten towards the young man before her. She knew what he was going to say and it left her feeling mildly sick in the stomach. She began to regret accepting the offer for lunch.

"We want Aomine on our team," Imayoshi said as he folded his hands together and peered at Satsuki closely. "And we want you as well."

Satsuki closed her eyes and thought of the confrontation she had had with Daiki yesterday. She had not spoken to him since, not because she was still angry at him but because the truth left her feeling sore and fragile. If there was one thing that had never changed about Daiki, it was that he always spoke the truth as he saw it. Even his arrogance was layered by utter frankness. Especially his arrogance.

"Have you spoken to him yet?" she asked. "To Dai-chan, I mean, Aomine-kun?"

"Yes, we have," Imayoshi admitted. "He totally brushed us off."

No surprises there. Satsuki sighed.

"I'm sorry. The Generation of Miracles are a little, well, difficult."

"That's fine. That's why I wanted to talk to you."

Satsuki opened her eyes. She was a little startled; Imayoshi was looking straight at her and from what she could see of his eyes, they were filled with a kind of quiet desperation.

"I'm a second year student. Next year will be my last in Touou. I know for now we're an unknown school but next year, if we have Aomine, we can make it to the nationals. I want us to win there. I want to know that feeling, just once."

It had been a long time since Satsuki had last witnessed such genuine desire. In Teikou, winning had lost so much of its meaning it had become nothing more than a conditioned reflex, an action that held no more thought than eating or breathing. And it wasn't like the other teams were that much better. They had become accustomed to a permanent state of dejected hopelessness. For them, winning a match against Teikou was like winning the grand prize in the lottery, nothing more than a vapid castle in the air.

"I'm not sure what I can do," Satsuki admitted helplessly. "Dai- I mean, Aomine-kun says he wants to quit basketball."

"We've investigated you," Imayoshi answered quickly. He smiled – an all-too-easy sort of smile that seemed to stick in one's mind like a permanent, disquieting reminder. "You and Aomine are childhood friends. If there's anyone who can convince him to do anything…"

"You're wrong," Satsuki murmured. She felt sick. "No one has that kind of power."

"But still," Imayoshi insisted quietly. "You can try, can't you?"

Satsuki thought about it. She thought about Daiki, tried to visualise that face she knew so well. For the first time, thinking of him, she felt afraid. There was a kind of hardness about his sharp, distinctive features that was genuinely chilling. This was probably how it felt to be on his opposing side.

"I really don't know," she said finally, casting her eyes to the side, noticing her hand had clenched into a trembling fist. She wondered exactly when Daiki had become someone she no longer recognised.

"I see," said Imayoshi.

Satsuki watched his face fall.

end part 1 of 4