The first to see him was Aomine.
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He was in his second year at Teikou. His raw talent was unmatched, his instinct feral. The world was starting to bore him.
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Then one day, at practice, something changed.
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Aomine reached out to catch a pass, only to find it redirected mid-air—perfectly, impossibly, as if the ball had been tipped by invisible fingers.
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He turned. No one was there.
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"Yo," a voice said, quiet, cold.
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Aomine's eyes widened.
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Floating behind the coach, halfway in shadow, was a pale boy. Hair like sky, eyes like ice. He didn't blink. Didn't breathe.
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No one else reacted. They just kept playing.
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"You saw me," the boy said, with the hint of a smile. "Interesting."
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They later called him The Phantom Sixth Man, but his real name—if it could still be called that—was Kuroko Tetsuya.
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He had died three years before the Miracle Generation's rise. A promising player, overlooked, quiet, loyal. He had collapsed on the court one winter day. Heart failure, they said. Too much pressure. Not enough notice.
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His ghost remained.
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He had loved basketball too much to leave.
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But there were rules to his existence. Rules even the dead must follow.
1. He could only be seen by those who had reached a certain threshold of talent.
2. He could only touch the ball.
3. He could only interact—physically and mentally—with those destined to be great: the Miracles.
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He could not scream. He could not cry. He could not touch the ground or open a door. He could only pass.
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Aomine told no one. At first, he thought he was going insane.
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But Kuroko kept showing up—tipping rebounds in his direction, stealing unnoticed passes, redirecting the game subtly, perfectly.
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"You're not crazy," Kuroko said during an empty gym session. "You're just good enough to see."
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Aomine stared at him. "Why me?"
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"Because you were the first who didn't need me," Kuroko said simply. "And the first who might."
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By the time Akashi saw him, he wasn't surprised.
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Akashi had always known the world was more than flesh and physics. His own blood whispered secrets. His eyes saw too much.
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"You're the ghost," Akashi said. "The one they talk about. The hidden hand."
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"I'm here for the game," Kuroko said. "Not for you."
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Akashi smiled. "Everything is for me."
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Still, he allowed it. Welcomed it, even.
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"Stay," Akashi said, turning away. "If you're going to haunt us, at least make us invincible."
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⸻
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And so Kuroko played.
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He hovered at the edges. His passes were myths. When a ball went astray, it curved just right. When a player jumped too far, the ball arrived mid-air as if summoned by fate.
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No one on the opposing teams ever saw him.
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They only saw the ball move as if on its own. Heard the creak of the floor where no one stood. Felt the chill of breath on their neck when they tried to drive past Akashi.
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They called it intuition. Or fate. Or divine punishment.
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But it was Kuroko.
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He was the sixth miracle—but only for those who deserved to see him.
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"Why do you do it?" Kise asked once. He was crying.
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They'd won another match. Easily. Kise had seen him for the first time that week. His skills had finally caught up. "Why help us? Why stay?"
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Kuroko hovered in the air, silent.
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"I want to see beautiful basketball," he said eventually. "As long as I can. As long as you shine."
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Kise swallowed. "But you can't play."
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"I am playing," Kuroko said.
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Kise never asked again.
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But not all things shine forever.
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The more the Miracles grew, the darker they became.
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Aomine stopped smiling. Midorima grew distant. Murasakibara crushed players for fun. Kise became a shadow of perfection, too fast to enjoy. And Akashi—
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Akashi broke.
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Kuroko watched it all. Power corrupts, they say. And absolute talent?
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It warps.
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He tried to guide them. Tried to anchor them with his presence. Tried to remind them that basketball was a team sport.
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But he was just a ghost.
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He couldn't yell.
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He couldn't stop the fighting.
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And worst of all, he could no longer touch them.
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The stronger they became, the less they needed him. And with that lack of need, his connection faded.
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One by one, they lost the ability to see him.
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It was Akashi who severed the last thread.
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"You're obsolete," he said to the empty court.
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He knew Kuroko was still there—hovering, hoping.
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But Akashi didn't want to share the game anymore. He didn't want a phantom. He wanted control.
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"You are dismissed."
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And with that, Kuroko faded.
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He wandered, disembodied, for months.
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No one could see him now. He couldn't touch the ball. The last connections were gone.
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Until...
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A new team. Seirin.
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A boy with fire in his hair and rage in his blood.
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Kagami Taiga.
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He was raw. Wild. Incomplete.
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But the potential—oh, the potential blazed like a beacon.
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Kuroko hovered near him, cautious. Hoping.
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And one day, in an empty gym, Kagami shot. Missed.
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The ball bounced—just slightly—to the side.
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Straight into his hands.
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"...What the hell?" Kagami whispered, staring at the ball.
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Kuroko blinked. His hand was glowing faintly. The connection...
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"Hi," he said.
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Kagami dropped the ball and screamed.
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⸻
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It took weeks to convince him Kuroko wasn't a demon.
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"But you're a ghost!"
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"Technically, yes."
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"And you want to play basketball?"
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"Yes."
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"That's INSANE."
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"...Are you going to dunk or not?"
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Together, they forged a bond. And with that bond, Kuroko began to rematerialize.
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Not completely—not to the world. But on the court, he mattered again.
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He could touch the ball. He could direct the flow.
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And slowly, other players began to feel his presence.
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Opponents began to mutter again about haunted passes. Whispered legends of a Phantom Sixth Man rose from the ashes.
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The Miracles began to hear rumors.
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And one by one, they saw him again.
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Not a ghost anymore.
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Not quite a boy.
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Something new.
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Something that didn't belong to them anymore.
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⸻
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In the final match, when Seirin faced Rakuzan, Akashi stepped onto the court.
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He looked across the gym.
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And for the first time in years, he saw a pale boy standing behind Kagami. Hair like sky. Eyes like ice.
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"You," he said, low. "You came back."
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"I never left," Kuroko replied. "You just stopped seeing."
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