Chapter 26 — Mitsuri

"Ah, so you're the captain of the basketball team. And you're a second-year? That's impressive." Grandpa shoots me a smug look as he interviews Akashi.

How did I get into this situation? I want to sink into my chair and hide under the table.

I clearly wasn't thinking when I recklessly invited Akashi over for dinner tonight.

I mean, it's not like we're even dating yet. I don't think. But my grandparents . . . obviously have the wrong idea. Not to mention, it's one of the nights Reiha's actually home instead of out with Ogiwara. Between her and my grandparents, I've had enough teasing to last me a lifetime.

Of course, Akashi has been a perfect gentleman, with his flaw etiquette and respectful way of speaking. I swear, if Grandma didn't already have Grandpa, she'd be hitting on him. (I don't really blame her.)

And . . . whenever my grandparents and Reiha have hinted (very unsubtly) at us being a couple, he hasn't denied it.

"Winter Cup is soon," Reiha says, picking through her vegetables and going for the meat. "Everyone on the team is working hard."

We delve into talk about Winter Cup, the annual tournament that Rakuzan lost to Seirin last year. I've been researching the teams participating in the upcoming preliminaries — but it's not really them we have to worry about. I don't think Rakuzan has ever had to fight to get through the prelims. The problem is what comes after. The likelihood of Rakuzan losing twice in a row is slight, especially with Seirin's third-years graduating, but . . . you never know.

And Akashi can't afford to lose this year. Not with his father just waiting for him to trip up.

The rest of dinner passes surprisingly quickly. Both Grandma and Grandpa are eager to hear about their granddaughters' school exploits. Even after all our plates are cleaned and any possible leftovers have vanished, we continue to stay at the table and talk. From the club, we move onto Rakuzan's academics and then plans for the future. Akashi admits that if he could choose a job for fun, he'd want to be a professional shōgi player.

The thought makes me sad. Because I know, with his father looming over him, that Akashi will never be able to choose a job simply out of pleasure. Even though his family is wealthy enough that he probably doesn't even have to work, one of the reasons they are so prestigious is because of their hard work ethic and dedication. I can't imagine Akashi just sitting around all day and playing, even if he is able to.

No, the Akashi I know and love is always moving forward, always doing his best.

Wait.

Love?

The thought had come unbidden into my mind. It had slipped in like it was a natural, common thought. Somehow, I think I've thought it before, but this time, I mull over the thought as the conversation descends into talk about Reiha's upcoming play.

Certainly, I like Akashi. I like him a lot, I know that much. But love is an altogether different matter, and even if Akashi and I are close enough that most people might call it "love," I don't think either of us are ready for that. Maybe because both of us have such little experience with the subject. Akashi, even with his vast knowledge on a variety of topics, has never experienced love. He told me that himself once (when my curiosity had gotten the best of me and I'd asked if he had ever had a girlfriend). And, of course, I with my years of invisibility, have never dated someone. In fact, I wasn't even interested in love before I knew Akashi. It seemed far too big a thing for me, a teenager, to worry about.

Familial love. The love for my grandparents. The love for my mom and even my dad, no matter how far away they are. The love for Reiha, despite our differences. Love between family is something I'm familiar with, but romantic love is a concept I've only ever experienced through stories.

I never imagined I would have a relationship like I have now with Akashi. And now that I've experienced it, I can't ever have imagined being without it. I think of the night of the festival, when we'd watched the fireworks split the air, hands folded together . . . is that love? Later, Ogiwara and Reiha had joined us, their cheeks flushed with the heat . . . and maybe something more?

Not for the first time, I wonder what is between her and Ogiwara. Is that love? I wouldn't know, because even though I know Reiha has kissed and dated in the past, love is still a touchy subject for her. Even though we're sisters and boys should be a common topic between us, it almost never comes up. Whenever I casually mention Ogiwara, she'll quickly switch the subject or talk about if offhandedly.

I guess we're similar in that way. Both a little confused about our feelings.

It's too early, I decide. It's too early to put a name to whatever feeling is inside me. Akashi, whose one weakness might be understanding his own feelings, is probably the same. Even if what he feels is similar to me, and even if that is the thing called love, there is no need to rush things. We will continue our relationship as is, and if someday, love happens to be there, then we will face that then.

The sun is setting, the street lamps lighting up. Grandma stands up to start putting away the dishes. I could ask Akashi to stay longer . . . but is it too soon for that?

Before I can make a decision, Akashi rises from his chair and holds his hand out to me. He doesn't say a word. He doesn't need to. I take his hand, and the two of us leave the house, our backs to the questioning stares of my family. But like the many stares I've had to endure this year, I find I don't mind.

For several minutes, we walk in a comfortable silence. We're still holding hands, something that excites me and calms me at the same time. I soon realize that we're not walking just to be, but that Akashi is heading somewhere — of course, he rarely does things without a purpose.

The streetlights illuminate the outside basketball court. In the fading light, I can make out the worn paint and shoe marks on the ground, the three-point line barely visible.

There's a nearby basket of free-to-use balls. Most of them are deflated and useless, but Akashi manages to find one near the bottom that's still good. He turns to me, ball in hand, and smiles. "Want to play?"

It's strange, now that I think about it. I manage a basketball team, but I've never once played the game myself. Before I became the manager, I don't think I even ever held a basketball.

"If you don't mind playing with me," I say. "I've never been good at sports, and I doubt basketball is any different."

He shrugs. "It's always better to have someone to play with."

And so, we begin. Although I am getting more and more familiar with basketball terms and strategies, learning the techniques is a lot harder than it looks. Akashi patiently coaches me through the basics of dribbling and shooting, and even though I'm painfully slow, I think both of us are enjoying it.

Nearly an hour later, we stop to take a break. Sweat is running down my face, even though I've done little more than dribble in place and try a few shots (which failed, of course). My skin feels hot, but I think it's from more than just the exercise.

We sit on the nearby bench, Akashi playing with the ball with one hand while I catch my breath.

"Did you know . . . ," he starts. Pauses. I wait. "My father has never liked team sports. It's strange, since you'd think that teamwork would be a universal value. Being able to get along with someone. Trust them. Depend on them. But my father has always preferred individual strength. In being able to do something entirely on your own. When I was younger, he encouraged me to join a martial art. But I wanted to play basketball. My mother convinced him in the end, but he's never been happy about it. He congratulated me when I became captain at Teikō, and now I see why. To him, being a leader means being the best; you are the most capable at your job, so you are the most capable of controlling the others. He doesn't care that the leader should promote harmony and respect his subordinates. He just cares about the status and the power that comes with it.

"When I was at Teikō . . . and the first year here at Rakuzan . . . I thought I was bringing out the best of my team. It's only after Kuroko defeated me that I realized . . . I had been just like my father. A leader — a true captain — doesn't just use his teammates and discard them when they're no longer useful. A true captain understands his teammates and knows their strengths, weaknesses, and when they're better suited for a job than he.

"It's been hard for me to realize this. Even this year, I've been trying, but I just keep falling back into the old role, that one my father wishes for me. But, you know, Mitsuri . . ."

He pauses, looks at me. The eyes I first fell in love with search mine, heartbreakingly genuine and full of caring.

"Because of you," he says softly, "I think I can do it."

A/N: A lighter and shorter chapter this time. To me, Akashi and Mitsuri seem more like the people who don't necessarily need to put a label on things or make it "official." Plus, I always kind of like relationships that happen more naturally, but that's just me. Thanks for reading!

~ J. Dominique