Having someone ignore and gawk at his presence when he spoke wasn't unusual. Also having a strange hair color and wearing the Teikou University uniform was. Somehow, over the short span of barely over a day, he had met a whole array of colorful characters. One of which was Aomine, with midnight blue hair and eyes that suited his darkly tanned skin well. It was because of him that he needed to go grocery shopping; to celebrate his first day at work.

Observing the man in front of him-who was probably around his own age-Kuroko deduced he was neat, if not uptight, had small circle of friends but wasn't the most dominant nor submissive, and had at least one eccentricity. His uniform, jacket, scarf, and bag were organized without a wrinkle or stain, and the way the sophomore scrutinized a piece of meat said a lot. Perhaps, as he had mentioned bacteria, the greenet was a doctor's son or had a particular phobia of germs. Because of his unyielding neatness and strange streak that produced an unapproachable air, friends would likely be limited. Despite Kuroko's newly formed acquaintance's stubbornness, he still ran errands for his family, and it was quite obviously portrayed on his face that he was irritated at even being in the store.

After he told the other his name, the teal haired college student asked for the his. If his gut was right, this wouldn't be the last Kuroko saw of him. The youth hesitated, lens protected forest green eyes weighing the choices on a metaphorical scale. Kuroko happily waited for him, sky blue orbs still focusing on the other, as his lips moved again.

"My name is Midorima Shintaro," the greenet answered with a surprising amount of conviction. But, it would seem his peer would rather declare something with pride than show weakness.

Kuroko nodded, and quickly went back to roaming the store, drifting between isles. Midorima seemed to be greatly disturbed by his sudden disappearance, but most are. He actually handled it quite well. It shouldn't be that surprising, since a doctor's son has to always keep up appearances. Giving another small smile to the other, the sophomore rang up his purchases, and left.

00000000

"Thanks for the food!" Aomine shouted, clapping his hands with a wide grin spread on his face. Kuroko was washing his hands, back turned to his tanned tennet. If not, his amused smile would have been clearly visible. His new friend shredded the steak Kuroko had prepared, biting at it, ripping huge chunks, and chewing like a wild animal. It was similar to how his charges would eat, and the teal haired sophomore was barely able to keep a chuckle in his throat.

Aomine devoured the meal quickly, with animal blood and rice sticking to his cheeks, and bits of flesh in his teeth. "You do you realize you look absolutely demonic right now, right?" Kuroko said, collecting the dirty plate and placing them into the sink to soak. He'd do them in the morning. Aomine blushed, scrambling to get to the bathroom. He nearly slipped on a rug, but miraculously kept his balance and simultaneously sprinted through Kuroko's apartment.

Shaking his head, Kuroko wrang his soapy rag, having been in the sink, and cleaned the bits of food on the countertop. When the tanned sophomore returned, the kitchen was just as it was when he arrived; spotless. Whistling, he sauntered to where Kuroko was, drying his hands with a dish cloth.

"You sure like to keep it clean," Aomine muttered. Glancing at him, Kuroko sighed. "You should go to bed. I have a book I'm close to finishing and it's only 9, so I'll join you in about an hour," he explained, an unnoticeable curve to his lips. The taller blushed at the word 'joined' and stiffly nodded, making his way to the bedroom.

The teal haired college sophomore grabbed his bag by the door, where he had dropped it upon entering. Aomine had rushed him into making dinner, so he hadn't been able to retrieve it in the near hour he spent cooking and cleaning. Grasping the long handles, Kuroko walked back to the couch, and plopped down, sighing again.

Unzipping it, he pawed through the books and papers until his hand finally touched what he was looking for-the small, hard cover novel he had purchased last week. Kuroko usually wasn't one for light novels, but during a chance walk through of the section, he took interest in the enigmatic cover, alone and unappealing at the very bottom. Most of its neighbors tried to be as bright and colorful as possible, but The Sinking Rock, as it was called, was neither.

Quickly, he flipped through the grainy pages until he found his book mark. Maneuvering the black strip of paper with smudged white writing on it into his hands without loosing the page, Kuroko mentally recapped where he was. There were 3 chapters left, tops, and the resolution had already started. The climax had revealed what the protagonist had hidden at the beginning, that she was having suicidal thoughts because of her brother, and that the brother had been told by their father that he could never speak to her, as females were still viewed as inferior in the time period it was set in.

Kuroko always did have a weak spot for historical literature.

His mind became completely wrapped in the storyline, as this would be how everything settled with their father, and what had happened to the mother, since all that had been mentioned about her was she died at the birth of the brother (the protagonist was oldest, at 19, and the brother 16). The older sibling had foggy memories, and only clearly remembered the mother having the most beautiful green hair. The siblings had inherited their father's black hair, but the protagonist got their mother's emerald eyes. Obviously, the mother was a key factor in the father's behavior, supported by the green cover.

He had left off where the the brother confronted the father, with the girl listening in after stumbling across the scene, headed off to meet her love interest. The brother, who had been seen throughout the novel as cold, stubborn, and prideful, was calm after the climax. It was at the turning point that he was able to release his frustration and think clearly as a man should (or at least in that era, he was a man).The father, who had displayed similar personality traits, was also without anger at the sudden questions his son asked.

"Father… mother, what was she like?" Shinsei (the brother) asked with pleading eyes. After all that happened with Shinko (protagonist), he now knew what was right, but the mere teenager was still so conflicted as to why his own father would lie to him, manipulate him. He never knew his mother, and the aging man before him never spoke of her. But after his sister, the strong sister whom he loved and respected, but wasn't allowed to because of 'society', confessed everything on her heart, even nearly dying, Shinsei knew he couldn't merely continue obeying his father's words mindlessly.

His father, the dignified samurai and scholar who never lost his sharpness with age, glanced at him from where he sat, stroking the ink-dripping brush on the long piece of parchment as if it were a sword. The characters were precise and neat, without splatter, yet still fluid and graceful that flowed freely to the bottom of the scroll. Sighing, as if he had known what his son would ask, and resigning to the fate of it happening, Shinken (the father) looked up to marvel at his son. The teenager who had lived through all of his mistakes and anger, and was strong enough and brave enough to endure and still look at the his daughter love. Shinsei really was stronger than him. The questions in his mind had been anticipated with anxiety on Shinken's part. The woman he had loved so dearly, for her memory to be dragged to the center of his mind was excruciating, and even he was unable to fully hide the pain manifesting in his soul from his son. This would be Shinsei's, Shinko's, and his own last ordeal. He set his medium down to rest on the stone, the brush floating in the inky shallow puddle, and relaxed his shoulders. Shinken had to resolve this, for all their sakes, he thought to himself, a twinge of a smile appearing on his face. He couldn't procrastinate any longer for his own selfish reasons.

Shinsei was quite obviously shocked at his father's sudden softness. The man he had grown up with was always hard, cold, emotionless. Never before had he been so warm, so bare, so… vulnerable. His mind now screamed at himself to leave right then, that he shouldn't hear what his father was about to utter the words that brought even his father's mighty walls down and turn into dust. However, his body remained still, tense, unmoving. Shinsei, though he feared what he may learn, couldn't bare to run away again, after everything. Taking a deep breath, he met his father's sorrowful gaze with one of combating tenacity and desperation.

Shinken closed his eyes, proud at his son's response, and opened his mouth, trying to find where he should start. There was so much to tell, and yet the sun was already leaving them, crimson light illuminating the scarlet persimmons that hung plump on otherwise barren branches. It was always amazing how the seemingly fragile limbs bore such fruit. They were nearly ready to be harvested.

Shinko listened carefully, remaining silent in the garden. The paper screen door was only slightly ajar for the remaining sun stream into her father's quarters. Only the persimmon tree would be visible from that small crack, allowing her peacefully sit next to the pond, with not even a breeze to disturb her brother's conversation with their father by distressing the fallen leaves, discolored by the heralding of October, harbinger of frost and short-lived vibrant foliage. Fall was the time for the last ounces of life in the greenery to burst out in an explosion of color, for they to beautiful even in death.

Kuroya, her beloved, would have to be patient. The promised time was soon to pass, but Shinko could not bring herself to stand from her position, overlooking the reflection the mirror-like water cast, just as Shinsei hadn't been able. She could no longer hear her breath, nor heart, as she focused on the last of the story, the pieces only her father could provide now given freely to her. The puzzle of her own life, and of her father's hatred coming together, finally. Her face felt frozen, and yet the water showed a different truth, soon disrupted by the river of tears that freely fell.

"I was young, around your age, Shinsei, and just finishing my education of the arts of the sword, when I met your mother. My sensei, Seizo no Aojin, had brought me along to escort an Eastern princess, who had a Japanese mother and was sent to assist in some negotiations regarding the two nations," the raven recalled, nostalgia worming its way onto his features, emanating the same warmth as the setting sun, which spread its rays one last time over it's fields before dying in a flourish, just like the october trees that gave a final spectacle before dying, shedding the awe inspiring leaves in a rain of warmth. The warmth the dead give off. Perhaps this marked the death of an era, in all their lives, or maybe it was their dead mother that gave out the warmth, lighting all their eyes with the same sad joy.

"I remember, we had to travel what felt like a 1,000 shaku by carriage. Of course, we were just the body guards, so he walked the distance. However, the hope of seeing a princess's face let me be ignorant of the aching pain my feet accumulated, as well as the fact that even if I did see he, it would make it hurt so much more that I could never do anything more. When we reached the imperial capital, the palace received her with much decoration. Entertainers displayed their abilities, breathing flames and dancing on balls twirling a wagasa and juggling a secondary ball on top of that. Musicians cried out on drums, flutes, zithers, harps, shamisen, kokyu, hichiriki, even sho and horagai. I remember the colors that rivaled blooming fields on the journey there, with naturally blooming sakura that appeared to welcome her just as warmly as the emperor. Vessels presented vast arrays of flowers, all good in hanakotoba, such as sumire, white keshi, botan, suisen, shirayuri, tenjiku botan, and the imperial kigiku. In the flurry of celebration and wanton expenditure, the princess stepped out of the carrier I had so vigilantly protected the week of travel. Even with the gold that shone seductively in the morning sunshine and natural loveliness of flowers stood no match against her. He face was without the white mask, as she had earlier argued it would soil and fall quickly anyway, but in preparation for the festivities, her attending applied an innocent gloss over her petal-like lips, and a complimenting layer of blushes and shadows over her face that fully exhibited jeweled eyes. Her hair was like the soft grasses of a gentle pasture, flowing freely with exception to the small bun held in silver ornament, a thin senbon the sole pillar keeping her hair in some resemblance of order. In my mind, I had pictured a thin face of porcelain, taut in elegance and draped in exotic silks and fashions. However, her features bore no such strictness, but a professional smile and courageous gaze. The cloth on her back was no more finer than my own, with the obi and kimono not long nor extragant. They were modest, dyed in humble greens, delicate pinks, and mellow oranges. The patterns were not overwhelming with dexterous detail nor plain or patchy. They resonated in harmony, the obi just the right amount of pink, the kimono having perfect blend of leaves and flowers to make the whole picture aesthetic. A pale, translucent shawl with gold accents in the form of a dragon was all that outwardly proved her imperial heritage."

Shinken held the image strongly in his mind, grasping even the smallest details from the near 3 decades that had passed since that day. Shinsei had sat down, barely even aware the sun was nearly entirely befallen, leaving a horizon of shion, ajisai, and ayame purples, along with the darkening blue that had encompassed the world only hours ago. Chill seized Shinko, but she hardly noticed her own shivering. The eloquence of her father's memories brought so much warmth, they dulled her senses, not even noticing the presence of her soon to be.

Kuroya, from the Yamigen (an elite sect of shinobi which was how they met, since Shinko's family is revered, with her powerful father and princess mother), effortlessly entered the Midorino (Shinko's family) household. The moon was just starting to shed its luminance, but in the minutes the raven jumped from roofs and stood in the trees, Kyoto was bathed in the blue of twilight, and shadows haunting without fear of light. One of those was Kuroya, and those moments were all he needed.

His form was crouched, bending to avoid any stray moonbeams that may begin to appear in feminine grace. The first silver stream touched the small pond in the garden, and like the mirror it was, enveloped Shinko in it's majestic light. Kuroya smiled, as the woman that trapped his heart could so breathlessly take the spotlight (very similar to how her mother was with her father, Kuroko noticed), very much opposed to himself, inheriting the innate ability to avoid perception and stay in the protecting embrace of darkness. However, he stilled loved her, and that was why he did not flee, but near her. He noticed her tears quickly, like glass stars, but felt no despair, only joy and happiness. Slowly, Kuroya approached her, taking purposeful steps. When he reached within a breaths width, he called in playful breeze, "You were late."

Shinko nearly gasped at the sudden voice, but managed with great effort to stifle it in her throat. She turned to face the man she had forgotten about, blushing at her mistake, and bowing her head in shame. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Kuroya shake his head, lithe arms wrapping around her waist to bring her closer to his chest. Shinko's face bloomed scarlet, heart pounding as she breathed in his pleasing scent of tsubaki that wafted from his charcoal yukata. Kuroya was silent, as he usually was, but a rare smile was on his face, one he only shared with her, Shinko. The girl he held so dearly clung back, openly welcoming his appearance and grateful for it. The raven observed her with sharp, sky-blue eyes (this was the only color he had on him, since even his skin was a milky white) and happily complied with what Shinko normally would have regarded as a selfish request.

Shinken, oblivious to the eavesdroppers just a few jou outside, continued the story.

Kuroko was on the next chapter, 24: Happiness, reading the mother's tale, who's name was finally revealed at their marriage as Rinnai. Shinken had gone through many trials to be able to claim her hand, having to wait 3 years until he was able. Luckily, that was also the amount of of time she would have to spend in Japan. Through those 3 years he was tasked to do 7 Great Deeds until he could marry her. It also helped that he befriended the youngest imperial prince, Kinose. After that, they lived happily for another 3 years until his wife became pregnant and Shinko was born. The father had actually loved her dearly when she was a child, but after the pregnancy, Rinnai became ill, dying after Shinsei's birth. Shinken, frustrated and in despair, turned to blame it on Shinko, since she bore the most likeness to Rinai. Green eyes and or hair had been trait passed to the first child for generations, and would testify that that child was the heir. However, even if the first child wasn't bestowed this gift, and instead a later child, the one with the symbolic green features would inherit the Shushu family fortune.

As Shinken was just explaining his reasons why he controlled Shinsei, Kuroya suggested Shinko 'Appear', which she did as soon as her father finished. Then they had a really beautiful make up, which was surprisingly not very cheesy and very well executed. The only crying, in fact, was Shinsei.

The next and final chapter was 24: Love. That was when Shinken approved of his daughter's marriage to Kuroya. However, while Shinko and her aunt arranged the wedding, a clue about Kuroya's past is revealed. Kuroya is a largely mysterious character that was introduced nearly midway, popping up and connecting rather strangely to Shinko's life. The raven gets a letter from someone identified only as Momo, warning the shinobi of the possible intrusion of the name Aobi. Then, literally the last two pages, when Kuroya is about to say his vows, a new character appears. He is wild, animalistic, and angry at the groom. Shinko, confused, tries to stop him from approaching, as well as her brother and father. However, the man pushes them aside (and into the shrine walls) mindlessly. Kuroya identifies the man as Aobi, and, to Kuroko's shock, on the last page isn't the kiss of Shinko and Kuroya, but Aobi stealing the intended eternal kiss.

Kuroko took a deep breath. And another. On the outside, he appeared as per usual, calm and emotionless. Inside, he was freaking out in a way the sophomore never expected: like a girl. He was now even more curious, and now aware of a sequel. The last two pages, thankfully, were more informative. Apparently, the author, Midorima Kitomo (a funny coincidence to the person he met just a few hours ago), had written an entire series, dubbed as The Pond. The first was the one in his hands, but, though he expected the next to be black, about Kuroya, it was blue, The Water. Afterwards was yellow, The Sole Goldfish, then purple, The Mirror, red, The Light, and finally, black. It's title was a curious one, only given as The Watcher.

Sighing, Kuroko stole a glance to the clock, mentally groaning as he registered it was nearly 1. Standing and stretching, the real haired entrepreneur was about to go brush his teeth, when it occurred to him he should also get the publisher. Bending down to pick up the book again, he he opened it at the first page. At the bottom, along with the publication date, was the company.

"Akashi Literature Branch?"