#i will say i love the whole transferring of curses via objects and the like

[dinahdlance]

oh my god she cursed those fish sdgfdhjsfhbdr

[taki-flower]

Invisible

ao3  fanfiction

The irony of Kuroko, who is practically invisible, becoming a victim of bullying.

Kuroko had always been a quiet child. When he was younger, as long as he stayed quiet and didn’t purposely draw attention to himself, he could sit in his room for hours end without his parents realizing that he had ever came home.

It wasn’t neglect. Whenever he called out to his mother or father, they would always startle, jump and whirl around to face him. Then, a smile would always, without a fail, cross their faces. Their love for him was apparent in every way when they faced him.

They just didn’t always notice him.

Kuroko was non-descriptive like his father, pale like his mother and small in a way that made him too utterly able to be looked over. It was like he didn’t have a presence.

Kuroko still remembered the first time he was noticed in elementary by a boy that was every bit Kuroko’s opposite. The boy was popular, charismatic if not a little brusque in his dominating attitude, and the worse bully Kuroko had the pleasure of meeting.

He was the first and only person to bully Kuroko, whose presence was so dim that barely anyone realized he existed, much less than be considered as a viable target to bully.

That boy, though, that boy in his elementary class was different. He always noticed when Kuroko stepped into the classroom, always noticed when Kuroko shifted in his seat, and his sharp, sharp eyes never fail to smile as he ridiculed Kuroko in front of his whole class.

He mocked Kuroko for his height and for looking like a girl, he mocked Kuroko for his preference for books and silence, and he mocked Kuroko for his lack of friends. He convinced the whole class to do the same right alongside of him.

Kuroko pressed his tongue back to the top of his mouth and did his best to ignore it, despite his mouth aching with the need for a discourse, his fist throbbing from anticipation for punching the boy in the face. Kuroko ignored him because he knew that bullies, whatever reason they may have to commit the deed, always unfailing seek for attention and reaction.

Kuroko refused to react because he refused to give the boy what he wanted.

He refused to react because he knew how much it hurts to be ignored.

Love, fear, hate, people can deal with, but they can’t deal with indifference, the very evidence that they don’t matter, that they were so beneath someone’s attention that they don’t even see them. Not as a beloved friend or family, not as a terrorizing bully, not even as an object of hate. They are nobody.

The boy couldn’t stand being a nobody, that no matter what he said or did, Kuroko just calmly sat there, accepted his actions and moved on without letting any of those actions bother him. The boy raged, screamed, and even punched, but Kuroko didn’t react. The boy couldn’t touch him, not in the way that he wanted to cut Kuroko from throat to gut and sear himself into Kuroko’s skin.

His classmates and teachers may not have notice Kuroko personally, but they noticed the boy. They saw the boy that they all said would be a good, respectable member of the society when he grow up turn into a monster. They saw him turn his popularity into a weapon to terrorize, they felt him pressuring those uncomfortable with the bullying into committing the act with his charismatic attitude, and they saw that he was a bully.        

His mother and father marched up to his school’s principal and launched complaints against the boy when they came home one day to Kuroko battered with bruises and cuts, torn books and papers. When they found out that it was going on for weeks and the teachers did nothing, his parents promptly transferred him to another school. Last he heard, the boy faced suspension for a week and a record of his bullying written permanently in his school records.

Kuroko moved, and then he met Ogiwara. In middle school, he met the Generations of Miracles.

He also met the boy again.

Haizaki Shōgo didn’t change at all from elementary school. Still charismatic, still popular, and still a bully. The first time Kuroko saw him again, Haizaki was pulling away from the girl hanging on his arm to enter a fight.

The first time he saw Kuroko again, it was when Akashi brought him back to the basketball team and told the team that he would be part of the starting line. From his spot in the front facing the surrounding members of the club, Kuroko could easily make out the sneer that crossed Haizaki’s face at the sight of him.

It was still as ugly as before, along with the light that lit within his eyes, like a cat spying a mouse to play with.

Kuroko found it interesting that Haizaki seemed to presume his moving away in his youth as running away. He found it stupid how Haizaki didn’t seem to learn.

Kuroko saw the looks Haizaki garnered, admiration for being in the prestigious Teiko’s basketball club, nausea from the ugly notoriety he gained for his irresponsible attitude. Haizaki was at a dangerous place in life and he didn’t even see. All he saw was the attention that he was gaining, but he didn’t realize that there was more disgust than admiration, more dislike than like.

Or, Kuroko mused, does he simply not care? Is bad attention better than none to him?

In any case, Haizaki evidently thought Teiko was a good place to continue where they left off in elementary.

Kuroko had to give it to Haizaki. He was a tad smarter than before. He knew Kuroko had a friend in Aomine and that Akashi had an investment in Kuroko, so he didn’t try anything as evident as in elementary. Instead, he spent his time leering at Kuroko at a distance - “what girlish features you have” -, whispering to his ears whenever they brushed by - “remember me, Kuroko?” - and towering over him at every opportunity - ‘weak’, he whispered without saying a word.

He flinched food from Kuroko plate even with Aomine sitting nearby, who scowled at him for the move. ‘You think I’m afraid of your guard dog,’ Haizaki seemed to ask.

Kuroko flicked him a cool look, before facing Aomine again. “It’s okay, Aomine-kun. I was finished with it anyway.”

You merely took something irrelevant. You think that’s going to affect me?

You think you can affect me?

Haizaki retaliated the next day during a practice match.

He expected that.

“Fuck you,” Kuroko heard him say, right before his breath was completely knocked out of him as Haizaki’s much larger frame slammed him against the ground.

Kuroko’s mouth parted and gasped, instinctively trying to take a breath to replace the lost air, only to find that he couldn’t, not with Haizaki crushing him. A spike of anger bolted through him as he thought of Haizaki’s treatment of him now and all those years ago.

Enough! Kuroko thought. Packing all of those feelings into his fist, Kuroko Ignite Pass-ed Haizaki off of him and rolled his side, gasping for breath.

In the back of his mind, Kuroko heard shouts and bodies violently slamming against others, and then someone was by his side, talking to him.

It was Akashi. “Breath, Kuroko, breath,” he said, his calm and collected disposition infinitely reassuring despite the chaos at their back. Kuroko nodded in reply and obeyed, ignoring Akashi’s measuring look. A few seconds later, he got his breath back and was surrounding by the Generations of Miracles.

“Kuroko, are you alright?” Midorima asked stiffly, a gleam in his eyes as he glanced sharply to the side. Kuroko had no doubt he was glaring at Haizaki.

“Kuro-chin, can you stand?” Murasakibara asked, and then proceeded to pluck Kuroko off the ground to a stand.

Kuroko held onto Murasakibara for a second, muscles aching and his vision swimming for a moment, before letting go as his vision steadied.

“Aomine-kun,” Kuroko called when he realized his friend wasn’t beside him. There was a curse in the background, followed by a thump, before Aomine made his way into the circle of people that surrounded Kuroko.

“Tetsu, you okay?” Aomine asked, a hand rubbing his jaw with a wince as he spoke. At the concerned glance that Kuroko casted him, the wince morphed into a smirk. “I just taught that bastard a lesson.”

“You fucking bastard,” Kuroko heard Haizaki snarl, trying to push his way through all the club members that got between Kuroko and Haizaki as soon as Kuroko fell and they realized a fight broke out.

Through all the bodies that stood between Kuroko and Haizaki, their eyes caught for a second. Kuroko watched Haizaki angrily grasped towards the direction of the Generations of Miracles, but despite all the shoving and shouting, he couldn’t even reach within five feet of them.

They were untouchable, and in that second, it seemed to click with Haizaki.

Kuroko was untouchable.

The light went out in Haizaki’s eyes, a split-second before Nijimura finally made his way through. “What is going on here?” he roared, taking in the disheveled state several club members were in, the bruises on Haizaki and Aomine, the way Kuroko couldn’t quite stand up straight and how they were all surrounding Kuroko protectively. The way all eyes went towards Haizaki the moment Nijimura asked the question told him who was responsible for all the trouble.

With a final push, Haizaki shoved the club members holding him back away. A few stumbled to a fall.

“Haizaki,” Nijimura called, but Haizaki wasn’t having it.

“Fuck you!” Haizaki snarled in the direction of the captain and the Generation of Miracles, but Kuroko knew it was aimed at him. Haizaki whirled around and left the gym, slamming the door shut behind him. He quit the team the next day and Kise joined the following year.

Xxx

Two years later at his own graduation from Teiko, Kuroko looked from a distance at the Generations of Miracles gathered around as ordered by Akashi via text. He looked at the way they formed a perfect circle, looked at the easy knowledge of belonging in their eyes, and thought about how their eyes never strayed from those within the circle, never to those who didn’t matter.

In each other, they saw a challenge. In Kuroko -

He didn’t exist in their eyes, not anymore.

Kuroko remembered the way hands would be extended towards him for fist bumps, a mark of partnership and acceptance. He remembered those hands gradually disappearing one by one over time, until their owners turned their back on him and walked away.

His chest ached, and he wondered if that was how Haizaki felt two years ago as he casted his eyes upon the Generations of Miracles and realized that he could never touch them, not even when he was supposed to be on the same team as one of them. He wondered at this bitter taste in his mouth and the pain in his heart, wondered if it was better to have never known what it meant to be noticed.

But no, invisibility always hurt more, didn’t it?

Kuroko looked at them again, at those called Generations of Miracles by all of Japan and those who he called friends for the past few years, and they never looked back, despite the mere five feet and several of celebrating bodies that stood before them. Kuroko stood there for a moment, etching the memory of them in his mind, before finally turning to walk away.

Yes, invisibility always hurt more, and no one knew that better than him.

Xxx

A few weeks after he joined Seirin, Kuroko bumped into Kise for the first time after their graduation and Kise ran up to him crying. Kuroko knew all his life that being invisible hurts, but that day he found out that disappearing without a trace like that hurts those around him as well.

Xxx

A year later after he joined Seirin and bumped into Haizaki again, Kuroko didn’t hide his disdain when he saw he hadn’t changed at all. Kuroko stepped right up to him, into his space, and said, “We’ll beat you.”

Surprise flashed across Haizaki’s face for a second, before a vicious gleam entered his eyes. “I’ll fucking crush you,” he promised, and they were more enemies than friends, but they were at least something.