Blitzkrieg, part four (2017-04-05)

yowling cat
outside my window
what is it you say?
though night falls
the dog next door
barks and barks away

trash bins lining
pockmarked roads
soldiers on their guard
streaking tail lights
sirens blaring
smoking wreckage charred

upon my skin
bright red ink
curves intertwined
pressure bruising
delicate vessels
wavering blue and lined

“What is it that you want to do with your life?” she asks, nowhere near as patronizing as she could have been. She is not asking the way his the school counselor does, ready to guide him on his way–university, training school, straight to work–but rather one honestly curious teen to another as equals. Or perhaps even one seeking the other as an example.

Often, choices are not a result of desire but of necessity.

“Maybe,” he says, hesitates, falls silent.

She does not prompt him to continue, does nothing but wait patiently and drink her tea. A snake poised, ready but still.

Snakes only attack those who encroach on their space.

He ponders and drinks his tea.

train tracks
three am
look out,
railroad crossing
stay behind
the yellow line
four minutes
doors opening,
doors closing
on benches
we sit
skin prickling
excuse me,
fogged out
hunched over
same train

He has no future in basketball. He was never more than a one trick pony, an accessory to other, better players.

But that’s… selfish. It’s a self-centered way of thinking. Basketball has always been about more than raw talent and unstoppable techniques. It’s about teamwork and effort and the people that helped them win.

He has no future in playing basketball. He can’t compete on the court, not at the higher, professional levels. But that doesn’t mean he’s completely cut off from it. He can still be part of the world, even if he’s not center stage.

“Maybe,” he says again, still hesitant.

She watches, waits; doesn’t tell him to turn back.

She doesn’t need to.

precipice, propensity,
every little piece.
building, straining,
brand new world.

thread and needles,
winding through,
beneath our fingers,
a familiar pattern

preserve, procede
throw it all in the fire

This time, the card does not get hidden away, forgotten. This time, he enters the information to his phone, and offers his in return.

Superfluous, but appreciated for the gesture it is.

He tells his school counselor that he’d like to go to university, specialize in education or sports psychology. He wants to be a teacher or maybe a coach.

He has no future in playing basketball, but that does not mean basketball doesn’t have a future in him.

There is no need to rip himself away from that world entirely, jump headfirst into a world of shadow and flames and irreversible commitments.

There will be time for that later.


A/N: Word Prompt (S81): Stamp. Which doesn’t have anything to do with the ficlet, except for how it led me to writing it.

I’ll be honest, I don’t know what I was doing with this series, but it didn’t feel right to have Kuroko join Vongola out of high school (mostly because Tetsuki probably wouldn’t let him join Vongola out of high school). So I guess this is “the end” of the series. For now.

Like, mostly I just wanted them to meet. Maybe one day he will join Vongola (or act as an outside contractor, or he’ll be the teacher to the next wave of over powered teenagers) but that’s not… well. Never say never, I guess.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s