wistfulness: the melancholic yearning or desire for something impossible or in the past


In Tokyo, it was rarely cold enough for the snow to last more than a couple of days, and that was assuming there was snowfall in the first place. Eru pressed her face against the cold surface of the windowpanes, delighting in the pleasant sensation spreading across her skin. But, simply because winter came together with the weight of unresolved emotions, it had been her least favourite season ever since she was twelve; she hadn't enjoyed it ever since she left behind the fond memory of playing in the soft, unexpected layer of snow that briefly coated her garden before it inevitably melted.

Outside, the November sun had not yet risen, and the sky was the colour of a bruise – a brilliant myriad of blue and purple hues. Occasions like this, when there was a perfect balance of warmth and cold, day and night, anticipation and nostalgia, it felt as though every puzzle piece that made up the world had finally shifted into place.

By the time she got ready for school, the first light of the morning sun could be seen in faint traces behind the cloud cover. Although the weather was pleasant, she did not fancy the long walk to Teiko bundled in far too many layers. She made sure to close her bedroom door as soundlessly as possible, before padding lightly down the hallway. Hayato, her family butler, was already waiting expectantly for her at the foot of the grand staircase.

"Nanase-san, the chauffeur is ready to bring you to school," Hayato bowed respectfully. Though she had repeatedly waved away the necessity of that gesture, he deemed it the basic level of decorum expected of him. With her bag slung over her shoulder, she slipped through the solid mahogany doors, eager to leave the house before her parents woke up.

The ride to school was silent; the chauffeur, Hikaru, was usually disinclined to make idle conversation – something which Eru was infinitely grateful for. She gazed out of the window, barely registering how her warm breath coated the cold glass with a thin layer of fog.

She stepped out of the car and was immediately greeted by the chill of the open air. Fortunately, there was less than a month to the end of the school term, and she would not need to tolerate the frostiness when traversing the sprawling school grounds much longer. The trees were all bare now, save for the few evergreen ones that maintained their brilliant verdant colour despite the iciness. She made her way to class quickly, wrapping her coat more tightly around herself.

Seijuro was already seated, with his head concealed behind a fascinating account of World Politics and Business. She wondered what had triggered his decision to leave behind their mutual love for literature, in favour of something he had never expressed interest in before.

"Good morning." His tone was clear and cool, exactly as she had grown accustomed to. But this time, he inclined his head in greeting, and there was a glimpse of warmth in the smile he directed to her. She felt a surge of joy at the simple, unexpected gesture as she sat herself down in the adjacent seat.

"Eru," he began seriously, turning to face her, "about the time at the coffee shop." She tensed; it had been months now, and things between them had been unnaturally tense since the incident in summer. Why was he bringing this up now?

"Yes?" She winced inwardly at how terse and uninviting her response sounded.

"I am sorry. My cruelty was quite unnecessary." There was a strange hitch, a hesitance that she had never detected before – not since the one-on-one against Murasakibara. Almost as if he was afraid of allowing the silence to drag on, Seijuro produced an expensive looking hand-carved shogi set from beneath his table.

"Your birthday present," he said, "Slightly early, but I concluded that there would be no harm giving it to you in advance. Shall we?" He quickly arranged the pieces and watched her expectantly. Eru was certain she was mistaken, but she could have sworn that she had seen a glimmer of hope, a plea. There was a slight, almost imperceptible quiver in the hand that he had extended to her as a form of invitation, and she realised that he was nervous.

"Let's play," she agreed; and when she angled her body in his direction and made the first move, she felt as if she was beginning to find him once more.


He was the same as before. But also, drastically different. A strange, undeniable mixture of both. She supposed his character had some sort of duality: a balance between the warmth and iciness, the cruelty and the compassion. Or, maybe it was more of a struggle, between protecting himself and his interests, and treating others the way they deserved to be treated; an endless dilemma as two completely antithetical ideas competed for dominance over his mind. And, at the heart of it all, she realised that he desperately feared being alone if he were ever left behind by his teammates.

Sometimes, when people changed, they changed for the worse, triggered by something tremendously painful, even heart-breaking. Eru knew that Seijuro's change could be traced back to the fateful one-on-one against Murasakibara; she knew it was rooted in his deep fear of being left behind in terms of ability. She knew he was terrified of losing his teammates, maybe even more than he was afraid of losing at all. And, for the longest time, she was convinced that this change was undesirable, with the dangerous potential of gradually tearing apart his humanity – or what was left of it. After all, she lived with two examples who exemplified just how twisted someone could become after a loss.

But every so often, he would catch her off-guard. He would momentarily lapse back into who he was before, revealing a familiar, warmth and compassion that she had always known him to have. Then, she would be sent reeling, wondering if he was getting better, if he was still there, beneath the alien façade; wondering, yet again, if there was hope for him, for them.


Eru bundled her woollen outerwear more closely around her body, feeling cold despite the short walk from her car to the front door. For the first time since winter began, there was a light drizzle of snow that fell silently from the sky. Against the background of the darkening sky, the scene reminded her of a documentary she had seen once of the devastating aftermath of a volcanic eruption, when ash floated almost serenely in the air. Minute, unassuming, but strongly reminiscent of cruelty and loss.

She hadn't liked winter – not after she left behind fond memories of playing in the soft layer of snow that briefly coated her garden before it inevitably melted. As the wind nipped her cheeks, she was reminded of its cruelty. As the snow fell in a flurry and bit her fingers, she was glimpsed its indifference. As the snowflakes settled gently on the gravel, creating a serene, idyllic picture, she was overwhelmed by memories that were irretrievable now.

Eru pushed open the front door of her home, eager to escape the snow that was falling more steadily now. As soon as she shut the door, she shrugged off her coat and slipped out of her shoes before arranging them neatly in the shoe cupboard. The warmth that greeted her felt unexpectedly welcoming, in a way that she hadn't felt in a while. It was instantly dispelled when she registered her mother's presence in the entrance hall.

"Eru," her mother greeted, "wash up quickly. We have much to discuss during dinner with your father." Then she swept out of the room without even waiting for a response, carrying herself with so much dignity, elegance and coldness, that Eru couldn't help but shiver involuntarily. While this was far better than another episode of Point Out Eru's Flaws in the Worst Ways Possible, a part of her still felt a prick of annoyance and hurt: this was how her mother welcomed her after spending two weeks in Kyoto for business.

She hurried up the stairs, feet padding lightly on the carpeted floor. Leaving her school bag by the door, Eru removed her clothes and stepped into the shower. The sensation of warm water running over her body was a pleasant one, and she relished the feeling of her muscles loosening. Turning off the water, Eru reached for the fluffy towel hanging by the bath and wrapped it around her body. The quick rinse had rejuvenated her with the energy she desperately needed to face her mother for what Eru expected would be a tense conversation.

Tugging on a sweater and tying her hair in a loose knot, Eru briskly made her way downstairs. Her parents were already seated when she meekly slipped into her seat, and she actively avoided their gazes, fearing that she would inadvertently incur her mother's wrath. The cook, Arisa, emerged from the kitchen to announce the menu for the night – a pointless exercise, or so Eru thought, but something that was ingrained in her parents' own upbringing nonetheless. As Hayato carefully carried out steaming bowls of miso soup, her mother carefully folded her hands on her lap and turned to face her.

"We have enrolled you into Rakuzan High in Kyoto." Nanase Misaki was fond of cutting to the chase, and this was no exception.

At Eru's apparent unresponsiveness, her mother nudged her father pointedly, "Takashi?" A questioning, arched eyebrow, and evidence of frustration underlying her words. Eru cast a sidelong glance at her father. Takashi's face was devoid of expression, something that Eru had been forced to grow accustomed to for the last three years. An unidentifiable emotion flickered across his face momentarily, but it was gone as soon as it had appeared; if she didn't know better, she would've thought it was a hint of an apology.

"I'm afraid there isn't much of a choice," her father began, "and they have already accepted you on account of your past academic achievements."

"And why isn't there a choice?" Eru felt a twinge of annoyance at his words. Since when did they have the right to make such important decisions on her behalf?

"Your father and I have business in Kyoto for at least a year while we expand the firm and set up another major branch there. Naturally, we will need to live there temporarily to oversee the initial phases of the business operations." Her mother's mouth was set in a hard line, and her tone brooked no further argument.

"What if I was planning on following Kuroko to Seirin? I don't need either of you to stay behind to look after me; there's always Hayato and Arisa anyway." She was sure that she sounded like a spoilt, petulant child, but she couldn't ignore the indignation she felt at this injustice.

"Seirin? The new school?" Her mother's face twisted in an expression of unconcealed disgust.

Regardless, Eru lifted her gaze to defiantly meet her mother's before saying, "I trust Kuroko's decisions."

"You will be following us to Kyoto, and you will attend Rakuzan. This is the final decision. It is one of the most prestigious schools in Japan, and our friends' children are all attending it. In fact, I was speaking to your friend's father – Akashi-san – the other day, and he mentioned intentions of sending his son there as well. It is ideal for you to make connections as early as possible."

There was a tense silence that ensued at the dining table, dispelled only by the soft clinking of chopsticks against china. It was then that Eru was struck by how different they were. Although her physical features were inherited from her mother, there were subtle nuances – improvements – in the latter: Misaki's perfectly-shaped eyebrows, her sleek brown hair that lay evenly across her shoulders and her cool, challenging gaze that all made her looked regal and downright condescending. Moments like this, Eru almost couldn't believe this was her mother at all. But then again, this was what change did to some. And this was exactly why she was terrified for Seijuro – that he, too, would become unrecognisable.

The tension in the room was almost palpable, like a dark cloud that had descended upon the dining table that was only worsened by her mother's cool stare. Eager to escape her suffering, Eru quickly finished her food and politely excused herself. Without casting a single glance behind her, she retreated to her room, hoping to avoid seeing her parents for the rest of the night.

She hated how her mother framed the situation to appear as though she had the best intentions for Eru at heart. She had no interest in making connections or attending the most prestigious school; she just wanted to be with people that she cared about. Seijuro being in the picture introduced far too many factors: her undeniable affection for him, whether platonic or romantic, her concern for his well-being, but, his relentless pursuit of success.

At the heart of it all, she was terrified that she would have no one left if he turned on her. She tried to ignore the guilt that came along with that fear: a true friend shouldn't perceive their best friend in such a manner. But, with Seijuro, there was always a strange balance of trust and uncertainty. His cold dismissiveness inspired fear, leading to an inherent expectation that he would eventually treat her the same way he had treated the rest of teammates. And then, there was the part of her that genuinely trusted him; she had a lingering, pervasive hope that he would expose his vulnerabilities to her again – if not as the person he was before, then as the person he had eventually become. And, perhaps, that's what made him so captivating: the hope that she would be able to find him again.


Warm sunlight filtered in through the windows that lined the corridors of Teiko. The hallway was filled with the lively chatter of students as they exited the lecture theatre after a particularly mundane tutorial on inverse and composite functions. A group of students gathering in directly in front of the entrance dispersed hastily as Seijuro stepped out of the lecture hall. He knew that his distinctive crimson hair stood out amongst the crowd and hoped that it would help Eru locate him more easily.

"Found you!" She said breathlessly, and he couldn't help but stare at the brilliant smile that spread across her face; it really did accentuate her pleasant features. "Sorry, I got stuck in the crowd on the way out."

"No matter," he waved her apology away, "Regarding what the teacher mentioned earlier – do you have any plans for high school?"

Eru hesitated, before replying, "I'm going to Rakuzan as well."

He barely concealed his surprise at this unexpected turn of events; Eru had previously expressed her doubts that she would join him there. His eyes narrowed, "Was this your own decision?" He wouldn't put it past her parents to force her into the prestige and glamour. When she averted her eyes from his scrutinising gaze, he knew that he had deduced correctly.

"It doesn't matter anyway," she mumbled, "at least I'll be with you." Seijuro could've sworn that he saw a light dusting of pink on her cheeks before it was covered by her hair. His heart felt strangely light as he guided her to the locker room, with his hand resting gently against the small of her back.

"Eru," he said, as they reached the locker room, "I'm pleased – that you will be joining me in Rakuzan." Seijuro was rewarded for his sudden burst of honesty by the delighted smile that she directed at him. And, if he were to trust absolutely in his intuition, there was a hint of relief in the smile as well.

"Yeah," she said softly, "I am too."

The companionable silence that ensued felt equal parts novel and familiar, like something they once had, that he sorely missed. After briskly slipping on his outdoor shoes, he turned his attention back to Eru, watching her intently as she fumbled with her laces. Endearing, really. She straightened up and slung her school bag over her shoulder again, before looking at him questioningly. He realised then that it was the first time he had waited for her in far too long. He cleared his throat.

"Let's go."

He saw the hint of amusement in her eyes, just like how he knew she was fully cognizant of the embarrassment he was feeling. Wordlessly, he reached out towards and relieved her of the stack of files she carried in her arms. Although she seemed caught off-guard, Eru relented surprisingly easily. Seijuro could feel the cold winter chill seeping through his warm cashmere sweater and cast a worried glance in Eru's direction. Noticing her slight shiver, Seijuro tucked her files under his left arm, and untwisted his scarf from around his neck with his right.

"Eru," he motioned for her to stop and handed her files back, "hold this for a second." He took a step towards her, painfully aware of their proximity. To say that she was stunned when he gently lifted her brown curls and wrapped the scarf snugly around her neck, would have been an understatement. His piercing heterochromatic eyes met hers confidently, concealing the nervousness he felt inside. And then, he smiled; for once he didn't think it was forced. At least, when he saw her eyes soften, it didn't feel forced. That's what she made him feel – natural.

It was a ten-minute walk to her car. Ever since their first winter term in Teiko, she had told Hikaru to wait further away from school, to avoid drawing attention to herself or her wealth. Foolish, but admirable nonetheless. At that thought, he felt a strange rush of warmth for the girl.

"Christmas," he said suddenly, and she tilted her head curiously at him, "May I see you at Christmas?" His cheeks felt flushed, which was ridiculous – it was a perfectly normal question to ask. At her unresponsiveness, he turned to face her. If he thought she was surprised by his gesture with the scarf, it would have been because he hadn't seen the look of utter confusion written all over her features. He had half a mind to tell her to ignore his question completely, until her face broke into a radiant smile, and she felt her soft hand slip into his.

"I'd love that."


Eru reckoned Christmas was her favourite period in the entire year. There was something special about tinsel hanging loosely on tree boughs, the excited chorus of children receiving presents, and the undeniable magic in the air, even if the holiday wasn't as widely celebrated in Japan as it was elsewhere.

Since she arrived fifteen minutes earlier than scheduled, Eru slipped into a booth in the quieter section of the coffeeshop. She fiddled idly with the box in her hands, containing Seijuro's birthday and Christmas presents – a set of silver basketball cufflinks that she found endearing, and a warm, chocolate-brown sweater she reckoned would suit him.

A soft chime prompted Eru to look towards the door, just in time to see Seijuro running a hand casually through his hair, before scanning the coffeeshop to find her. Even at that distance, she saw his eyes brighten the moment they landed on her. She smiled involuntarily – because it was Christmas, because of the slight smile dancing on his lips, because of the redness of his wind-nipped cheeks, because he was there.

"Merry Christmas, Seijuro," she beamed, while motioning for him to take his seat.

"Merry Christmas," he responded softly, a faint blush tainting his cheeks despite the emotionless façade he forced himself to maintain. Seeing him like that felt familiar and refreshing, yet unnervingly alien too. As he pushed a professionally wrapped gift box towards her, his abashed expression made her feel as if her world had unexpectedly, miraculously righted itself on its axis once again.


Eru gazed out of her window, which overlooked a portion of the courtyard. The dry ground that had been hard and cracked showed signs of growth – tiny green specks dotting the garden and little buds of flowers making their first appearances. Winter had been long and bitter, and she could hardly contain her delight that the thawing of the ground heralded the arrival of spring.

Despite the cruelty she associated with winter, however, she found herself gradually beginning to appreciate its symbolism. The barrenness of the courtyard, and the newness of growth – two absolutely contrasting ideas that only revealed how life was often a beautiful, unexpected balance. It really was about balance; the hard, unrelenting exterior concealed a lovely warmth beneath – just like what she had seen in Seijuro – and the latter could only be revealed once all the ice had melted away, exposing the beauty beneath, exposing him.

The sky at sunrise was always a sight to behold, with a myriad of different colours fighting for dominance, only to meld into a picturesque gradient of red, orange and gold. The low temperature did nothing to dilute its splendour, and she was hit with the realisation that it was foolish to spend winter waiting eagerly for spring; not when there was so much to behold already. In the same way, it was foolish to wish continuously for Seijuro to return to who he was before, not when this change wasn't necessarily bad, just – different.

Eru was right before: that people would change drastically, and, more often than not, in an undesirable way. But she could have been wrong too, and his change was not for the worse. Maybe she spent far too long missing who he was before and failing to understand the person he was now. And maybe, the point was to enjoy winter while it was there, while remembering that there was something truly special lying dormant beneath, remembering that it would take time to coax it out. All she knew now, was that she was willing to remain alongside him every step of the way, up until she found him, and even beyond.


A/N: sorry that this came out so late; it's about twice the length of a normal chapter because I needed to tie up a lot of loose ends before the story could progress to part II. this chapter concludes part I of the story, the next update will be set in Rakuzan. hope you enjoyed it!

p.s. the link to akashi + brown sweater is on my profile, if you are interested in my inspiration :0)