Another day, another chapter.

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Again, this chapter is very, very short! It lacks Aomine pretty much and is a light timeline plot pusher for the next big relationship step. Just a warning! And I really wanted to say that I was so surprised by the feedback. It was amazing and I'm so happy that you liked it!

Thank you for all the follows, favorites and reviews!

DAY FOURTY FIVE

Mia bit into the watermelon piece in her hands, enjoying the cool texture on her tongue. The show on the television was pretty popular, many dramatic turns and twists. Tears and humor. And the only thing which the girl deemed 'alright' right now next to the other episodes of soap operas and seasons which had been repeated by the third time already.

The summer was still dawning upon them, the last days filled with nothing but laziness and sleep. After the festival ended, her time schedule had been so empty without the black haired girl. Mia could barely wait for her to come back; it was always so much more fun to sit around together instead of alone.

"If you got nothing to do you could help me, you know?"

Mia's dark eyes rolled to her side where her father stood. The big glass door which led to the small backyard of their home was open, the sunshine flooding the living room behind his back. The grown man held onto a basket which was filled to the brim with clothes, mostly cotton shirts and short pants which they now needed the most due to the weather.

"It's your job." The girl replied, biting into the watermelon again.

The older man pouted, weighing the laundry basket onto his hip so that he could brush the short orange hair strands out of his eyes.

"I made you; shouldn't it be your job to do what your creator tells you to do?"

Mia nearly spit out the fruit, glaring at her father who started grinning from one ear to another.

"That's gross, dad. Seriously."

Satisfied that he was the one to cause the unwanted thoughts in her mind, he disappeared through the open door. He aimed for the washing line outside to hang up the wet clothes. All the while the eyes of his daughter followed him with a half-hearted glare. Her father was truly a giant by Japanese standards. She didn't notice it anymore but as she was young, she'd always notice the difference in height when he picked her up from primary school. He had always towered over the other fathers.

Aomine was pretty tall, too...

"Dad?"

It took him a moment before he called back. "Yeah?"

"How tall are you again?"

Her father threw her a look from the garden, a white shirt in his hands. "Phew, about...well nearly two meters. Why? Did I scare your little friend away?"

"No, no - just wondering..."

Mia let herself fall back into the cushions, her gaze landing onto the screen. The show was still airing; the scenery had changed just like the characters, although it didn't really matter as long as she had something to do. Slowly, she took the watermelon piece back into her hands, ready to bite off the rest of the fruity snack before her father suddenly rushed back into the living room.

"Who is he?"

The girl had pulled her bent legs against her chest out of surprise, staring at the older man whose goofy grin had suddenly disappeared. His clear bright eyes were scanning her expression for any clue, but Mia didn't even know what he was going on about. Finally her father opened his mouth, repeating the three words he had said before.

"Who is he?"

"Who is who, dad?"

"Is he tall? I can't accept a 'Japanese-tall'. These are lies, baby girl." The grown man leaned against the doorframe, his face grimacing. "A hundred seventy centimeter ain't tall."

"Wait, what?"

Finally, her brain understood what he was going on about, although she didn't really liked where his thoughts were going. Why did parents have to always expect the worst things when their children asked a single innocent question? Yes, she had thought of the basketball player, but only because he was so tall. It wasn't her fault that Aomine was a guy and not a girl.

"I don't want a boy who barely reaches my knees."

"Now you're being cruel."

"Honest." Her father argued, lifting a finger into the air of emphasis the word. "It's called honesty."

"The last time I checked, it was called prejudi- I, I don't even know what you're going on about, dad."

The grown man let his hand fall back at his side, staring at her a bit puzzled. For a second both of them became quiet, merely exchanging a look while the gears in their heads turned and twisted. Her father sighed heavily, carefully turning back to the garden behind him because he knew, he still had a handful of clothes to hang up. In the end, he came to the conclusion that maybe he overreacted a tiny bit - like any father in his situation would do. But, of course, just a tiny bit.

"Just making sure...I guess."

"Well, you should make sure you get things done before mum sees you still slacking around."

The orange haired man frowned at his daughter; the cruelty came from a calm and soft expression. He pressed a hand against his chest as if he tried to touch the invisible wound, he had received by Mia's words. The girl, on the other hand, could only blink at his dramatic action if she had gotten used to anything over the years then it was her father's way of acting.

"That hurt, baby girl."

The teenager smiled over the watermelon piece in her hand which only made it harder for the older one to not grin as well. Finally he left, returning to his task while Mia chose to watch the show she had nearly completely missed again. She wondered what Nanami was doing right now. Or Satsuki...did the basketball team train again? They had a match coming up. InterHigh still wasn't over yet.

Hopefully, Aomine wouldn't try to skip that just like all those practices.

Thoughtfully, she pulled her mobile phone out of her pocket, staring at the screen while wondering if it wouldn't be too weird for her to text him. Satsuki had already called her once as they had a match, asking her if she knew where he was...it was the same day they had talked over the phone as well. His mood had been bad thanks to a member of the club who had insulted someone he knew.

A friend, she guessed.

'A match is coming up, right?'

It was the fault of her boredom, Mia decided. She had too much time on her hands and her fingers had pressed the sent button already before she could have maybe changed her mind about texting him at all. Swiftly, she put the phone aside, expecting it to take a lot of time before the basketball player would reply.

And just like she thought, it took an hour before the phone went off. Easily scooping up the small device, she checked her messages. Where his name was slowly but surely filling her postbox next to Nanami's and Mum's.

'Yeah. This Saturday.'

Eagerly, she tipped an answer.

'You won't skip it, right?'

This time he was quick, it didn't even take a minute until her mobile phone signaled the arrival of the message.

'No way. Not against him.'

Oh, he sounded excited. That was new. The orange-head wondered who his opponent could be when he actually seemed to be fired up.

'Good luck then.'

Mia knew, what was coming next. There was such a high possibility that he'd write something as arrogant and self-confident as-

'I don't need it.'

-as that.

Laughing slightly at her foreboding, she leaned back against the couch. The summer heat was still brooding, the taste of watermelon slowly but surely lost its greatness after four pieces. She'd have actually nothing against a popsicle. Or shaved ice.

'Of course. Ahomine.'

'Shut up.'