((A.N., Drabble. Only warning on this is that someone who shouldn't be somewhere, is somewhere.))
It was the club activities recruitment fair at Shuutoku highschool. Bustling crowds of teenagers, most of them excited first-years, were hovering around different booths, taking covert peeks and trying to avoid being snagged by desperate seniors. Takao Kazunari found himself within the crowd, but he wasn't one of the drifters. He was looking around alright, but pointedly, for a mop of green hair that he'd caught a glimpse of while filing into the assembly hall that morning.
Takao had been overjoyed to see the enigmatic shooting guard. His educated guess on where the Generation of Miracles member would turn up had actually been spot on, it seemed almost too good to be true.
Dodging oncoming traffic, the small raven-haired boy looked around some more, getting increasingly antsy. How difficult could it possibbly be to find a 1.95m tall boy with green hair? An idiot could have guessed where Midorima would be eventually headed though; the basketball club, naturally. So the moment Takao saw a densely crowded booth with a large (though rather badly painted) banner advertizing the famous Shuutoku basketball team, he headed over. Quickly snagging one of the light-orange registration forms, he retreated, and leaned against an adjacent tree, watching, waiting, pretending to be interested in the nearby tennis club.
It was fine, just fine, Takao thought to himself as he politely declined a flyer. He'd fought to get into Shuutoku, studied harder than ever in his life prior. It had been everything to him, despite the laughs from his classmates, despite the friendships he'd given up on, despite the crushing study schedule that was now little more than a memory, and a good head start in his new school. He'd struggled and waited this long to meet Midorima Shintarou again. What was a few more minutes?
Probably too used to that forced patience, it caught him off guard when, from the distance, a head of grass-green hair came into view. The massive crowd between them, Takao couldn't see anything lower than Midorima's head; he was pretty sure the shooting guard couldn't see him at all, just like during that match in middle school. To Midorima, Takao wasn't there at all.
This, however, this moment that he'd been waiting for, was going to change everything. He was sure of it.
Summoning all the collective determination he'd mustered since the crushing defeat under Teikou, he dashed through the crowd, muttering rushed apologies left right and center before finally, all that remained between him and the object of his stubborn obsession was a single line of a scattered few people...
It was then he saw something, or someone, that no one else seemed to be paying attention to. A small boy, short for a highschooler, even more so for a basketball player. His baby-blue hair was soft, but stubbornly sticking up at odd angles on the top of his head. While the seniors were busy dealing with Midorima and his apparent attitude, the smaller boy took a light-orange registration form and proceeded to wordlessly fill it out, unnoticed. It was when Midorima turned to ask Kuroko's opinion on something that the seniors finally realized he was there, leading to a stream of profuse apologies to them both.
People continued walking, different heads at different heights passing in and out of sight as Takao stood there, closer to his goal than he'd ever been since his struggle began. However, however. He found himself stepping away from a crumbling cliffside, doing little more than heaving a quick sigh, and turning away. Slightly unstable steps carried him to the nearest trashcan, a light-orange slip of paper fluttering into it and settling atop a pile of other flyers.
"Well, at least I got into a good school." He said out loud, laughing quickly... Before his smile dissolved, and he tore off towards the school building as fast as his legs would carry him.