saturation: to a full extent, often beyond the point regarded as desirable.


Spring had gradually phased into summer, and the clouds had slowly cleared to reveal the vast splendour of the azure blue skies. The sun was scorching, but in an almost pleasant way, violently seizing control of the temperature. Naturally, the day was lethargic and slow-paced, seemingly cloudless with an afternoon that appeared to promise good, sunny weather.

The weather forecast had failed her again, predicting clear skies with the possibility of a drizzle. This was hardly a drizzle, she reflected bitterly, feeling heavy droplets of rain land squarely in her brown hair. Clutching her books tightly, Eru braced the pouring rain. Of all days that she had forgotten to bring her umbrella, it had to be on the day that it actually rained. By the time she reached the front porch, her uniform stuck onto her like a second skin, and water dripped steadily from her hair; it served as an unwanted reminder of the treacherous storm.

After multiple attempts to squeeze her uniform dry, Eru gingerly pushed the door open. Without warning, the door was wrenched from her grasp, causing her to stumble forward.

"You're late and you've managed to make the floor filthy." A sneer twisted her mother's lips in a grotesque way, "Stupid girl, why did I even bother to raise you?" The cutting remarks were accompanied by three slaps in quick succession, and the sound of impact resonated throughout the hallway. Eru remained standing with her head lowered, an apology hanging from her lips and unshed tears stinging her eyes. Her body was tense, bracing herself for more blows, but they did not come. Somewhere further away, her mother's footsteps echoed and a door was slammed roughly.

All around her, the air seemed to ring with a relentless intensity, both unnervingly silent and unbearably deafening at the same time. Her entire body felt weak, and the knees that had been holding her upright the entire time seemed to give way unannounced. She sunk to the floor, feeling her body shudder with a strange chill – the kind that permeated the skin and pervaded the senses. Then, the tears that she had been holding back forced their way down her cheeks, and she allowed herself to cry. If only for just a moment.


She awoke before the first rays of light crept through the curtains, her normal routine interrupted by the new need to conceal the marks on her face. All things considered, the slaps had not been as bad as certain other occasions, although the intensity had definitely left bruises on her pale skin, if the lingering sting was any indication. Her reflection in the mirror looked drawn and tired, far worse than it had been just a few years ago – before she entered Teiko. Gingerly, she traced her finger along the outline of the bruise, wincing when the two came into contact.

The small amount of makeup that she owned were used for occasions like this: when her mother used too much violence and she was forced to wear the aftermath of the one-sided conflict on her face like taunting battlescars. She might even say that she had gotten rather good at applying it; a skill born out of necessity.

In her first year and a half in Teiko, she had needed to miss suspiciously numerous days of school on the premise of being unwell. In reality, those were times when the bruises and marks were far too difficult to conceal, and she had no choice but to conceal herself, lest Seijuro asked too many questions. Now, at least, she could better avoid his concerned gazes or inevitable questions.


As always, he waited patiently for her at the school gates. In summer, the sun hung dauntingly high even in the mornings, enveloping the surroundings with a perpetual warmth. Unfortunately, summers in Tokyo were never particularly pleasant; the humidity was often far too great to peacefully enjoy the heat, and it remained a source of endless complaints instead.

She arrived exactly on time, her uniform ruffling marginally in the almost imperceptible breeze. Beads of sweat lined her forehead but did nothing to dampen the brilliant smile on her face when her eyes rested on him. He reckoned that even the ferocity of summer could hardly compare to the radiance she exuded when she smiled at him.

Sometimes, when Seijuro watched her, he wondered if she was aware that he could see through her façade. The eyes that were once alive with a quiet joy had gradually dimmed to the state that they were in now – not exactly lifeless, but missing the subtle sparkly that danced invitingly in a corner.


As soon as her eyes fell onto his figure, she felt her steps grow lighter, almost as if his mere presence lightened the burden that she carried alone. She lived for these moments: the times when it felt like it was just the two of them. Something about the way he carried himself was more casual, and the hardness in his eyes was not as prevalent. It was almost as if he was unwittingly forcing himself to live up to unspoken expectations of him – perhaps, in a way, they might even have been self-imposed.

The heat of the summer sun and the warmth of his crimson eyes went far in giving her an unexpected sense of peace; she almost forgot how Seijuro's eyes would often adopt a momentarily icy look, and how his stance would stiffen and his words would be cutting and cruel.

"Let's go," he said, but she could hear the command beneath his unassuming words. A little chill ran down her spine despite the humidity, but she brushed it aside; it was only temporary, after all. He walked alongside her, his left hand resting gently against her back as he guided her. Something in the way he held her closely and continuously caught her eye felt like protectiveness on his part.

Sometimes, she felt acutely aware of Seijuro's gaze on her, and she wondered if he saw through her façade. His piercing eyes seemed to consider her carefully before he cast a warm smile in her direction. It never failed to fill her with warmth, the kind that she never really experienced from anyone else. It was a good feeling – maybe even the best feeling – and she never wanted it to end.


She sat patiently on the strategically-placed bench – far away from the threat of any stray basketball – diligently taking note of each player's strengths and weaknesses. With Seijuro's help, she needed to plan an updated training schedule in preparation for the upcoming summer holiday practices leading up to the end-of-the-year tournament. Two years of research and careful consideration had rendered her almost an expert at analysing the movements of her team and the opponents.

"Eru-cchi!" called Kise enthusiastically, "Watch this!" He handled the ball with the grace and confidence of a seasoned veteran, casual and nonchalant, but still eager to impress any onlookers. Taking advantage of Kise's momentary lack of focus, Aomine swiftly stole the ball and scored.

"Focus on the game, Kise," barked Aomine, his face bearing a triumphant grin. Kise's eager smile transformed into an indignant pout.

"Enough of this behaviour and focus on the game," Seijuro directed a cold glare in their direction.

"What? But Akashi-cchi…"

"It's Kise's fault for trying to impress Nanase!"Aomine scowled.

"Aomine-cchi!" Kise's tone was affronted. "That's not true!"

"If both of you have enough energy to behave in such a childish manner, then it is clear that you don't have sufficient training. I will have no choice but to intensify it." The two cast accusatory glares at each other before turning back to the game. Kise's eyes narrowed; he would not lose to Aomine again. The almost-imperceptible playful glint in Seijuro's eye was not lost on her.

The outcome of the game was obvious: a sweeping victory on Aomine's part and yet another despondent loss for Kise. The former continued recited his arrogant mantra, 'The only one who can beat me is me,' but Eru could not help but notice the fact that his voice had lost its initial contempt. After months, she had finally managed to persuade him to come for training every week, if not to sharpen his raw talent, then to spend time with people who he genuinely enjoyed the company of. A small step towards progress, perhaps, but it was a massive one towards fixing Aomine's attitude.

When training finally ended, the boys slowly filtered out of the gym. As usual, she was among the last to vacate, having to bear responsibility for both the members and the gym. It had been a particularly exhausting day, and Eru was hardly anxious to return home. Recently, her mother had been in an especially foul mood, and naturally, any anger was directly instantly towards her. While she did try to linger around longer than was necessary, she only succeeded in delaying the inevitable. When all was said and done the only thing she could really do was hope desperately that she would emerge unscathed.


Saturday mornings always dawned with significantly more risk involved than normal school days. Although she forced herself to rise before her parents woke, there were occasions where she had miscalculated, only to be physically or mentally tormented for hours, before she finally managed to escape. It had become a routine for her to meet up with Seijuro on the weekends. He knew that she disliked staying at home, and she had only needed to ask him once before he had set aside all his weekends to keep her company.

Although it was still early, the sun hung high overhead, its warm rays blocked only by a thin, wispy layer of clouds. Even so, the weather was still infinitely better than it had been just a week before, and she was pleasantly surprised by the long-awaited breeze that did wonders to refresh her. Her body ached, and her cheeks still stung from the previous night. Her pastel-pink cardigan neatly concealed the beginnings of bruises along her arms, but she could do little to hide the slight limp when her right leg threatened to give way beneath her.

The door of the quaint café chimed softly as she gently pushed it open. She was instantly greeted with the warm, comforting aroma of ground coffee beans, mingled with the scent of freshly whipped cream and baked croissants; the tense muscles near her shoulders seemed to experience an inexplicable wave of relief. Although he was seated in a more inconspicuous corner, his crimson hair stood out amidst the crowd of other consumers; Seijuro's heterochromatic eyes flickered upwards to meet her gaze almost immediately, and an indescribable expression crossed his face.

"Seijuro! Hope I didn't keep you waiting long," Eru said apologetically, as she slipped into the cushioned seat opposite him.

"It is no matter," he replied briskly, "I have ordered for you." Seijuro motioned to mug of warm coffee in front of her – her preference on lazy mornings. Although he had perfected the order, it was completely unlike him to have ordered pre-emptively on her behalf. Something was amiss; it was almost as if this was his subtle way of asserting – or wresting – control over her. If that was the case, then her worst fears regarding the episode after the Nationals were confirmed.

For some reason, his demeanour lacked the familiar gentle ease it usually had. She could feel an unnatural tension building, and released a heavy sigh, before she smiled genially in his direction. Without realising it, she wrapped her hands around the mug, allowing its comfortable heat to soothe her nerves. Why was she so nervous around Seijuro? Was this all in her head? She was reluctant to admit the drastic change in his character, but there seemed to be no other explanation.

"What would you like to do today?" Her shaky hands had been carefully raising the mug towards her mouth, just as he broke the silence, and she started, spilling the hot coffee onto Seijuro's outstretched arm. His eyes narrowed, and his lips twisted into an expression that she had never seen on him before: contempt. He used the nearby napkin to vigorously clean up the unfortunate coffee stains that stood out against his white dress-shirt. The next words that left his mouth were critical and accusatory, blaming her intolerable failure on her carelessness. She opened her mouth as if to defend herself, before falling silent; was there really anything she could say to make the situation better?

He placed sufficient change on the table, before rising purposefully from his seat and striding out of the café. For ten minutes, she was too stunned to speak; never in the past three years of knowing him had he ever come close to treating her this way – in a manner that implied her inferiority and subservience to him. Still, his cruel and harsh treatment of her seemed almost instinctive, combined with the cutting words that easily left his lips. A stubborn tear rolled down her cheek, and she brushed it away roughly. The way he had treated her was admittedly inevitable; after all, the same condescending, chilling tone was frequently experienced by those in the basketball team who made the mistake of crossing him. But that did nothing to resolve the iciness that enveloped her heart, and the pervasive fear that Seijuro was pushing her away.

She took deep breaths to soothe the staccato pounding of her heart; gradually, it slowed down to a steady pace, enough for her to steady her hands and clear her mind. Her coffee was now lukewarm, and she hastened to finish it before it cooled down completely. Once it turned cold, it became difficult to remember the subtle joy and comfort it used to bring. Coffee was always best enjoyed when its warmth was tangible.

Head hung low, Eru exited the café as quietly as she had arrived, making sure to clear the two mugs first. The sun had sunk lower, and the clouds overhead had thickened to form a welcome protective layer, preventing excessive exposure to the unpleasant heat. A gust of fresh air caused the surrounding trees to sway slightly, their leaves creating a gentle rustling sound. It was already nearing the end of summer, and she could identify the tell-tale signs of autumn setting in: the changing colours of the flora, the dead leaves littering the ground that crunched beneath her footsteps.

The colder months were setting in. They would be bitter and relentless and cruel, but, beneath the harshness was a quiet, natural beauty that would only become apparent if given time for the ice to melt.


A/N: kinda metaphorical (hopefully), but the next update is probably going to take a while because my teacher awaits my extended essay for cross-marking :') any feedback will be appreciated because I lowkey need motivation