Have you ever met someone for the first time, but in your heart you feel as if you've met them before?

It would be nice, Atsushi thinks. It wasn't him to think too much of the future. When he did, the thought of living together with Himuro excited him. Where would they live? What would they eat for dinner? Would they still go on evening walks just to drop by the candy shop that he worshipped?

It was then he felt a shudder running down his spine.

'Would we still be together till then?'

Atsushi frowned. Questioning his relationship with his other half was something he had never done before. Sure, Himuro was an ideal 'boyfriend' (Atsushi would never call him that), apart from being the usual motherly figure whilst being away from home. But then again, he was talking about Himuro. Head-hunted model and school heartbreaker. Bewitching smile and porcelain unblemished skin. Beauty mark and mysterious aura. Male or female, who wouldn't come across Himuro and not call him attractive? And of the many people Himuro could choose to be with – why him?

Himuro, who was resting his head on Atsushi's lap, was rather bemused to find the purple giant being lost in his own thoughts. He snapped his fingers near Atsushi's face, chuckling at the sight of the purple head jerking his head backwards.

"What's wrong Atsushi?" Himuro asked. "It's not quite you to space out when I'm around. Are you alright?"

"It's nothing." he lied. Himuro's eyebrows rose this time. Atsushi knew better than to fool the Mirage Shooter.

"Muro-chin, will we still be together for a long time?"

Atsushi had expected an answer of assurance coming out of Himuro's mouth but instead, all Himuro did was smile and allowed his eyes to shut. The purple head wasn't sure of what to make with that reply so he leaned back against the sakura tree, observing the scenery ahead. At that time, Atsushi made a note that it was spring, but not in Akita, Tokyo instead. Cherry blossoms fluttering as the winds guide them, cherry blossoms scattered on the ground, decorating the dry earth with shades of pink. He made another note that the cherry blossoms resting on Himuro's cheek were prettier than any other. The contrast of the pale skin and the pink shade brought out the colours of the sakura petals.

"What if", Himuro started, his eyes opening to meet Atsushi's. "What if we never meet each other in our next lives?"

Atsushi's eyes blinked.

"Another magnificent shot by Player No. 12! He's in the zone, definitely!" the excited cheers of basketball fans made its way to the living room, where Atsushi's eldest brother, Aoshi, was watching a live telecast of a NBA match.

"Are you watching that boring game again?" Aoshi rolled his eyes and turned to face Atsushi who had just sat beside him with a bag of chips.

"Why are you here then?"

But Aoshi need not an answer from his younger brother. He hastily grabbed the remote control before the other could lay his hands on it and proceeded to meet Atsushi's eyes with an intense glare as if to say: "No, you can't switch the channels."

Atsushi merely showed his elder brother a brooding, irritated look and huffed, settling back on the sofa whilst munching his potato chips. Aoshi went back to his game and somehow the thought of his brother joining a basketball team sounded reasonable due to his unfathomable height. He knew that Atsushi was overly conscious about his height and how it made people distance themselves from him, which was why he was never really close to anyone in school. But if basketball had a bunch of tall people, surely they would happily accept him as a valuable asset to the school team.

"Atsushi, don't you want to join the basketball team in high school?"

"Eh, don't wanna, it's annoying," he drawled.

"But – "

"Player No. 9 scores again! That Mirage Shot is one of a kind!" Aoshi turned his attention back to the screen, where a certain Asian player was showered with hugs and adoration.

Aoshi found himself speaking in admiration, "Do you know he's actually Japanese? I heard he's as good as those Generation of Miracles players in Japan and can enter the Zone."

Atsushi ignored his brother and continued eating his chips. He didn't really understand the references his brother made about Generation of Miracles or what the 'zone' even was. It was too bothersome to ask about something unnecessary. He merely stared at the screen, only to notice his eyes were fixated on Player No. 12.

"What if he couldn't enter this Zone?" the words escaped his thoughts and a sudden sensation was burning through his left cheek, as if someone had punched some sense into him. It felt as if someone was telling him off, to made use of the talents he had, talents that people would work their asses off but would never obtain.

Atsushi blinked. He got up from the sofa, leaving the empty bag of chips behind and headed towards the kitchen.

"Atsushi?" Aoshi called after Atsushi, confused over his peculiar behaviour.

It took 15 deep breathes and mantras of 'patience' in his head for Atsushi to hold back any form of sardonic reply at the balding man's questions. From his family to his inspiration to his love life, he wondered if interviewers could start coming up with original questions instead of recycling them.

He walked out of the room where he had just finished his interview, kept his friendly façade on until he reached the VIP lounge specially booked for him. He slumped on the couch, loosened his tie and gave out a huff – mostly of tire and displeasure.

For the millionth time, he swore under his breathe, I hate interviews.

Atsushi wanted to shut his eyes and sleep but a fearsome lady in black formal attire; of jacket and pants tailor-made in Italy, walked in.

"Good job keeping your cool there, Atsushi,"

He gave Araki a glance, acknowledging her presence, and went back to his sleepy state. Through his shut eyes, he could hear her annoyance as she sighed, the sound of killer heels slowly fading off, and the click of the door as it shut.

'Good, I can rest for now.' or so he thought.

Beep beep.

A text message came in. The smartphone could have been crushed if his temper had gone any worse but he couldn't risk losing the contact numbers. It wasn't that he wanted to keep in touch with people, rather asking them for their numbers again felt troublesome. He grabbed the smartphone out from his pocket and narrowed his eyes at the sender's name: Kisechin.

"Murasakibaracchi, I heard that famous model, Himuro Tatsuya, is visiting the same building you were interviewed in?! Get an autograph for me please!"

Atsushi deleted the message without a thought. But the next one came in.

"I'll courier you those chocolate confections you loved from France!"

He exited the lounge.

A/N: Welll well. What do you think so far? I've got plans for the next chapters and I can't wait to update them :) Reviews and criticism are welcomed!