serenity: being calm, peaceful or untroubled; the state of tranquility.
He awoke to the rising sun painting the sky in a myriad of hues. The curtains of his bay window were drawn, allowing dim rays of light through and revealing the characteristic pink clouds of a summer's dawn.
Despite the brilliant spectacle before him, there was a nagging feeling lingering at the back of his mind. His mind drifted unwittingly to the persistent mystery that he desperately wanted to solve. It was especially exasperating for someone of his intellectual capacity to continuously encounter obstacles, but for reasons unknown to him, Seijuro could hardly bring himself to investigate thoroughly when Eru seemed so reluctant to disclose any information to him.
Perhaps it was better to wait, and hopefully she would be comfortable sharing with him some day. But the promise of understanding in due time was hardly enough for his insatiable curiosity, and his desire to know. He massaged his temples to clear his mind and allowed a resigned sigh to escape his lips. Soon.
She awoke as soon as the first rays of light made their appearance through the cracks in between her curtains. The air was deceptively still, and in any other situation – in any other place – she would have paused for a few seconds to simply relish the spring morning. Instead, she changed into her school uniform with unrivalled haste, gathered her school supplies and sneaked out through the backdoor. Her shoulders only relaxed after exiting the ostentatious gates of her family manor, and even then, there was no denying the way she cast an occasional furtive glance behind her.
Seijuro was already waiting for her when she arrived at the entrance of Teiko. The warm smile that graced his features worked wonders, and soon the frown lines marring her forehead disappeared, making way for the uninhibited laughter that sounded alien to her own ears. Eru could not explain how he was able to make her feel so much; it really had been a long while since anyone had been able to evoke such strong and visceral emotions from her. Being next to him made everything feel natural, like she would never need to search desperately for a reason to smile anymore.
They sat at their regular seats for the first period, waiting patiently for the English teacher to come. Before a couple of minutes had even passed, she began drumming her fingers nervously against the table, worried about the results to the test that they would be receiving later. Eru was not usually unsettled by tests, because she never felt uncertain about most of her answers. But this time was different; she had barely focussed and she frankly could not seem to remember processing anything properly. Warmth enveloped her hand as Seijuro pressed lightly against it to stop the drumming; she realised belatedly how aggravating the repetitive noise must have been.
"Sorry," she whispered to him. Seijuro shook his head with a slight smile on his face, before he retracted his hand.
"Calm down." The effect he had on her must truly be magic. There simply could not be anything else that could explain the instantaneous wave of calm that filled with her overwhelming peace. Eru flashed him a quick smile before settling down. The moment was short-lived, but memorable. On the pristine white paper, that the teacher returned to her trembling fingers, was a large 'B' scrawled in red ink. She didn't think she had ever scored anything other than an A in her entire life – that simply was not allowed in her family. A brief flash of fear gripped her heart at the prospect of bringing this dismal grade home, and a sigh inadvertently escaped her lips.
"How did you do?" She asked Seijuro weakly. The A grade on his paper was hardly unexpected, but it did little to quell the sinking feeling in her chest.
"You don't have to be upset, I'm sure you just made a few careless mistakes." Seijuro's attempt at consolation did little to allay her fears, but went far in assuring her that he cared.
"My parents will be really angry." She could almost hear the tremor in her voice.
There was a brief pause as Seijuro allowed her simple statement to sink in. A sad smile crossed his face before being replaced by a look of understanding.
"My father always pushes for excellence as well. He's strict." His hand automatically reached out to pat her comfortingly on the arm and she accepted his touch, grateful for the warmth that it gave. "We can both succeed together." There was something so blithely assuring in his tone that she allowed herself to relax momentarily. She had been so focussed on herself before that she failed to recognise how Seijuro himself could have been struggling with the same kind of pressure to succeed.
Sometimes, there came moments where two completely different individuals were inexplicably connected in the most bizarre of ways. It did not need much conversation; the silent understanding that passed between people who shared similar experiences would suffice. There remained a great number of things they had yet to learn about one another, but this would surely be progress in a steadfast friendship.
Within a few months, she had steadily grown accustomed to the intricacies of basketball. Beyond the basics of recognising the positions, watching professional games had allowed her to gain a more concrete understanding of the strategies and tactics revolving around the sport. This came easily enough to her, and she found herself roped into long discussions with the coach and Nijimura before upcoming matches.
That being said, it was not exactly easy adjusting to her responsibilities so quickly. Being the level representative, the manager of the first string and Seijuro's only academic rival came with the occasional sacrifice – sleep, mostly. At least it was a sacrifice she did not truly mind making. After all, attending club meetings gave her a reason to remain in school for much longer than necessary.
Oddly enough, the basketball club had quickly become her safe haven; a place of solace where she was convinced that she would find peace of mind. It was her constant. Often, it was the brief moments of spontaneous laughter, the joyful banter and the unfiltered happiness that lingered in one's memory, even when all others faded away. For Eru, those memories were made with the regulars of Teiko's first string, where the atmosphere rang with mirth and there was no shortage of smiles.
She leaned against the cool surface of the clubroom table and closed her eyes. The summer breeze ruffled her hair gently, filling the room with a peculiar scent that was unique to the season – freshly mown grass with a touch of petrichor where the rain mingled with the dry ground. It was tranquil, save for the occasional rustle as Midorima fiddled with his lucky item for the day: an unattractive green frog. It was a welcome respite away from the cacophony that dominated the hallways during school hours.
The silence did not last long of course – it rarely did – and the peace was shattered by the unnecessarily loud noises that heralded Aomine's entrance into the clubroom.
"Sup Nanase– the hell is that ugly frog, Midorima? You tryna find a lookalike or something?"
Midorima bristled visibly, "It's my lucky item for today, of course. Maybe if you followed Oha-Asa more closely, you wouldn't be failing every test." His superior tone naturally aggravated Aomine even further, causing the latter to narrow his eyes in a challenge.
"Mine-chin, Mido-chin, why are you always arguing?" The familiar lazy drawl could be heard even before Murasakibara pushed open the sliding door of the room; an array of his favourite snacks nestled in his arms.
"I was simply correcting his flawed way of thinking." Midorima loftily turned his attention back to his lucky item.
"By using an ugly frog to prove his point," Aomine muttered derisively.
Once upon a time, she would have expressed strong preferences for solitude and tranquillity. But amidst the chaotic banter unique to this particular group of individuals, Eru found a strange semblance of peace that could only be described as a sense of belonging.
It was nearing August: the end of the first school term and the beginning of the summer vacation. Some days, Seijuro would find himself actively seeking Eru's companionship. Midorima was certainly a more contemplative foe, but Eru consistently made unexpected, yet surprisingly clever moves that he occasionally failed to foresee.
This simple observation could go far in distinguishing between their vastly different types of intellect. While Midorima was more rigid and rarely deviated from the norm, Eru relied more on intuition, and was oddly eager to adopt creative new approaches to situations. She was refreshing even with her unassuming demeanour.
Still, she was often blissfully unfocussed, resulting in a number of easily avoidable mistakes. Perhaps he ought to be more disdainful of incompetency or failure as his father always taught him, but a part of him found it strangely endearing that she could be such an odd balance of elegance and confusion.
The clubroom was silent, save for the gentle rattling of the windows bearing the brunt of the strong summer wind, and the intermittent, light clatter of shougi pieces when Seijuro or Eru made their moves. The latter furrowed her brow as Seijuro captured yet another of her pieces – a knight this time.
"What is your favourite colour?" The question that left his mouth was unexpectedly mundane. "I think mine would be maroon."
"Maroon?" she asked curiously, "Because of your hair and eye colour?"
"No, that's not the reason," Seijuro let out a small laugh. "That would be rather narcissistic of me, don't you think?" There was a brief pause before he hastened to continue. "My mother's hair was a darker shade of maroon. The colour reminds me of her."
Was, he said. She noticed a strange expression flit across his face, as if he hadn't intended to elaborate, but inadvertently did so anyway. A part of Eru wanted to understand more, but the other half held back. She of all people understood the importance of respecting privacy, especially since she was so hesitant to open up to Seijuro in the first place.
"Turquoise," she said quickly. "It reminds me of the sea." That much was true, although she hadn't elaborated on the exact reason.
Still, there was something in Seijuro's face – or perhaps his posture – that compelled her to say more. There were times when she felt a rush of closeness to someone, mixed with the inexplicable desire to open up to them. Perhaps it could be explained simply by attributing it to a human's natural inclination towards social interaction, or perhaps it was something deeper – the inherent connection that she felt to Seijuro, so much so that losing him as a friend was unimaginable.
It was rather strange that most friends often lack knowledge of the simple things: their close friends' favourite colour, food, drink, song. The increased emphasis on seemingly bigger things – personal problems, struggles, relationships – had ultimately drawn the attention away from the beauty of the minute aspects of someone's life, almost as if everyone had simultaneously forgotten how much meaning those little details could carry as well.
In the same way, the simple question that Seijuro had asked brought about unexpected effects. It was evident that there was still so much more she had to learn about him. Every individual possessed an incredible depth, built up by infinitesimal pieces that constituted their character, personality, their person, until a masterpiece was created, complete with tiny – often negligible – details that formed their very essence.
They still had a long way to go. But, if the gentle smile that glossed over Seijuro's face was any indication, they would make it there, and she had a reason to continue hoping.
