To every Light its Shadow.
But who wants to live in the Shadow?
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«I don't care if they're geniuses or prodigies. Break them and they're all just trash.»
He tilted his head aside, his eyes at lost for a second before his irises flickered with amu...
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As a child, Akihito didn't think much of his lack of presence. After all, his father was like that, and so was his grandmother. His little brother wasn't any different, while his mother could be considered discreet.
It was as if it was written in their DNA: Kuroko's shall have a low presence.
Either way, it wasn't like Akihito wished for a presence. Having a low presence allowed him to better look at others, observe them in silence without anybody scolding him because it was 'impolite.'
Silently sucking on his lollipop, Akihito stood in front of the shoe shop. His mother had told him to remain by the kid department while she looked up a new pair of heels, but he felt bored.
Unnoticed, he crept out the store, and now here he was, in front of it, a cola-flavored lollipop tucked in his mouth as his golden eyes followed the onlookers in a blend of interest and confusion.
Perhaps it was a trait of the Kuroko, but observing people's behaviors was one of Akihito's favorite hobbies. It was something he got from his mother. One afternoon, when he was three, she took him to a cafe, Tetsuya in a crib, she showed him the wonder of humans.
The way every person would tell a bit of themselves by the way they handled themselves. She pointed out how some kept their eyes on the floor while others looked straight ahead, how they played with their hands, stood straight or hunched.
It was wonderful.
Fun.
A Game.
He was the player. The goal was to find out as much as possible about strangers by solely observing them. Although Akihito was only five, he liked to think that he was really good at it.
The best even— not that his mother knew.
He sat on the ground, knees to his chest. The bystanders came and went in turn, keeping Akihito occupied far longer than he should have.
Looking at the strangers passing by, munching on his candy stick, he felt a bit hungry. He heard his stomach rumble. Okay, maybe not a bit, maybe he was very hungry— famished even.
He rubbed his tummy, feeling absentminded, he bit on the plastic stick. "Mommy," he whispered, suddenly very aware of the fact that she wasn't by his side.
He stood up, keeping the candy stick in one hand while the other rubbed his empty stomach, he frowned. His golden eyes flashed with discontentment. Looking around, wasn't he a 'lost child'?
His face was blank, devoid of any readable emotions, yet his eyes swirled with distress and— fear?
Was that fear?
He blinked. He didn't like 'fear.' He much preferred the satisfaction de felt after dinner cooked by his grandmother, or when his mother laid a kiss on his forehead. He liked the butterflies Tetsuya sent in his tummy when he would laugh, or the tingling in his chest whenever his father complimented him.
