II


hiraeth: a homesickness for a home you can't return to


In a way, this was how she had expected it to begin again – with a clear sky devoid of clouds, a faint, lingering chill that came with the end of winter, and everything else being exceptionally ordinary. Eru stood at the entrance of the school, admiring the sprawling school grounds. Although Teiko had an impressive campus, it paled in comparison to the borderline ostentatious prestige that Rakuzan emanated. An aesthetically pleasing mix of modern and traditional architecture, the well-maintained façade comprised ivory-coloured walls interspersed with wooden panels and long glass windows for volume and texture.

She tugged uncomfortably at the maroon cashmere scarf that hung loosely around her neck. Entering Rakuzan meant that she had stepped into yet another world of riches – one quite possibly filled with judgemental individuals who wanted to befriend her for her wealth or status. A soft sigh escaped her lips. Despite the delicate karesansui by the front gates, and the impressive water feature at the centre of the courtyard, she struggled to appreciate the high school she had been coerced into attending.

"Eru," Seijuro's clear voice cut through the air, "It's been a while."

She whirled around to see familiar red hair, heterochromatic eyes and the distinctive aristocratic arch of Seijuro's nose. There was a confident smirk playing on his lips – nothing like the genuine smile she missed, but a vast improvement nonetheless.

"Seijuro!" She greeted enthusiastically, "You've grown taller," – and more muscular, really.

"The scarf suits you," he replied, reaching out to adjust the tips of the scarf slightly. She flushed as his intense gaze lingered on her for longer than necessary. Then, he motioned towards the school entrance and turned on his heel. Though he started walking first, she noticed how he made sure to match her stride. The slight pang in her heart indicated her belated realisation of just how much she had missed being with him since the end of the winter term. Her parents had rented a private lodge in the Niseko mountains for a week of skiing; she had adamantly refused to accompany them on the slopes, choosing to while the hours away in the village coffeeshops instead. When she caught his quick glance in her direction to make sure that she was keeping up with him, Eru swore she almost felt tangible warmth spread across her chest.

The entrance hall was as imposing as she had expected, brightly-lit with high ceilings and a pleasant scent. It opened into two similar locker rooms, for males and females respectively. After agreeing to meet in the adjourning hallway, Eru quickly found the locker with her name printed on it and exchanged her pastel pink Vans for standard-issue black shoes.

Seijuro was already waiting patiently in the hallway when she exited the locker room. Although there was still half an hour until school began, animated conversations and hushed laughter already filled the air. The relaxed atmosphere came as a surprise to her – people of higher socio-economic statuses often had the importance of dignity impressed on them from a young age. Seijuro led her towards the large notice board that a crowd of students hovered in front of. Unsurprisingly, they were in the same form class, but this time, there was a taunting number four in bold beside her name.

"Oh," she mumbled, her heart sinking. As it appeared, the abundance of distractions in the form of arguments with her parents and her relationship with Seijuro had cost her from claiming a place in the top three – something her mother would most certainly be displeased about. Then she felt a comforting hand brush against hers; the gaze that met her own was filled with concern, and she felt a misplaced flutter in her stomach.

"Come, let's find our class." He led her away from the notice board, not once bringing up her ranking, or the fact that he had claimed first place once again.

Clear glass panels rested in mahogany frames and looked out into the flourishing courtyard. Halfway through, the corridor branched into two separate wings – one for electives and the other, for club activities. The stretch for regular classrooms was situated at the end of the hallway, on either side of a grand staircase with polished banisters. When they finally reached class, it was a quarter to eight, and there were enough empty seats for them to find adjacent tables.


They shared almost all their classes – Japanese, English, mathematics, science and social studies – with the exception of their elective class; she had opted for literature over business. Thankfully, the first day was set aside for orientation: introductions, familiarisation with the school grounds and club activity sign-ups. Their teachers were warm and welcoming, especially the one in charge of their class, Shimizu Hinata sensei. Japanese and mathematics class had breezed by before she really realised it. When it came to new environments, she often found herself feeling unfocussed, and relied heavily on Seijuro to guide her to each class. Meeting new people tended to make her feel nervous; she recalled how she was forced to interact with Seijuro on the first day of Teiko because they were the chosen representatives – it was odd how someone she had felt so anxious being around had rapidly become her most trusted confidant.

When the bell rang to indicate the beginning of their break, Seijuro rose gracefully from his seat.

"Shall we find the main office to submit our club activity sign-up forms?"

She nodded once, "Um, I think you should know –"

"I expect you'll be manager once more?" Seijuro looked at her curiously. "You would be an invaluable addition to the team."

There was a peculiar, uncharacteristic emotion on his face that she had difficulty identifying – hope, perhaps. Or maybe it was simply her wishful thinking that twisted his expectation into something more positive. Still, there was a tinge of regret when she shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she said, doing her best to avoid his contemplative gaze, "I've decided to, well, pursue other things – writing, you know?" She wasn't sure if she was ready to admit that there were far too many memories involved with basketball that she wasn't ready to face just yet. And perhaps, it would be better to have an extra-curricular life apart from Seijuro.

"We'd have less time together." The way he said it was factual, and she almost missed the slight hurt that tainted his words. He quickly angled his face away from her, but she recognised the same petulant expression he would adopt since their first year in junior high. Then his eyes hardened, "The writing club, then?"

"I heard it's free and easy. We can read and write during club sessions, and it's not limited to any genre." She smiled at him, "It's only on Tuesdays and Thursdays, which means I can still come and watch the basketball practices."

He made a non-committal sound, before leading her in the direction of the office. She could feel his displeasure rolling off him in waves but felt a twinge of gratitude that he decided against pursuing the subject. The hallways were empty and silent, save for the echo of their footsteps.

When they neared the office, it appeared that there were already other first-years who had the same idea. A boy with tousled black hair stood with his back to them, his right hand pressed against the wall as he hastily filled in his club activity form. A left hander – that was uncommon. There was a blonde girl waiting next to him, a scowl etched on her features as she tapped her foot impatiently.

Seijuro knocked sharply on the office door, just as the boy exclaimed triumphantly and raised the single sheet of paper in the air. With a dramatic bow in the direction of the girl, he turned towards the door. The first thing that Eru noticed was that his eyes were a brilliant shade of green, something extremely uncommon among Japanese. The second was the faint pink on his cheeks when he realised that there were spectators of his antics.

"You're such an idiot Kei," she heard the girl grumble, "Remind me why I'm friends with you again?"

He dismissed her words with a careless wave of his hand, a brilliant smile spreading across his face, "You love me."

The door opened to reveal a lady whose hair was tied neatly into a bun. Behind her spectacles, her eyes widened with recognition when she glanced at the sheets of paper in their hands. Seijuro bowed politely, "I am Akashi Seijuro and this is Nanase Eru," he gestured vaguely in her direction. "We are both from 1-A."

"A pleasure to meet you. I hope you will be satisfied with your clubs." She took the forms from Seijuro before looking expectantly at the pair waiting patiently behind them. As soon as her attention left them, Eru felt Seijuro's palm press gently against her back as he guided her away from the office.

"Igarashi Keiichi from 1-B," she heard him say, before they were out of earshot.


From their position under the shade of the tall columns, Eru could hear the soft patter of water from the fountain in the centre of the courtyard. The ground was thawing quickly, and the first signs of spring flowers were already making their appearance. In the spring, the air was always a perfect balance of crisp and fresh – a reminder of coldness, and a herald of renewal. Some older students leaned against the marble exterior of the fountain, laughing as faint sprays of water speckled their uniforms. When the sun reappeared from behind a mass of clouds and bathed the school in a pleasant glow, Eru felt – even if it was just for a moment – that Rakuzan hadn't been a mistake after all.

They hardly had time to explore the school grounds before Seijuro suggested that they find their next classrooms. Since he opted for business over literature, it would be the first time in three years that she would have to be alone. The earlier tension had dissipated, and the silence that lapsed between them was companionable and familiar. Although Seijuro's business class was at the beginning of the hallway, he had opted to walk Eru to hers first – an unexpectedly courteous gesture that was strongly reminiscent of the Seijuro she knew from their first two years at Teiko.

"This is your class," he gestured towards the sign overhead that displayed Literature – Elective (1) in bold. "You should be sharing the lesson with students from classes 1-A to 1-C."

"Mm," she smiled warmly at him, "I'll see you later during English!" They were standing close enough for her to detect the beginnings of a small smile threatening to make its appearance.

He raised his hand in farewell, only for Eru to unexpectedly flinch in response. The smile on her face was forced as she imitated his gesture, but she didn't miss how his eyes narrowed infinitesimally, or his clenched fist.

"I'll see you later," he said firmly, "And take care of yourself." The touch of gentleness took her by surprise, and she felt the weight in her heart grow inexplicably lighter despite the unfortunate implications of her earlier response to his action.

Although there was less than ten minutes left of break, the classroom was empty, save for a group of students who had come earlier to secure seats in the backrow. Eru found herself a seat by the window in the second row – an ideal position, where she could enjoy the courtyard, while avoiding being the object of the teacher's scrutiny. Someone had left the windows open, and she felt the faint touch of a cool spring breeze that carried the scent of flowers in bloom. Her eyes softened as she rested her cheek against the palm of her hand. In a way, the refreshing nature of spring felt symbolic of the thawing of Seijuro's cold persona. If she closed her eyes, she could almost ignore everything except the immediate tranquillity.

"Hey, it's you from earlier!" Her thoughts were interrupted by a voice that was vaguely reminiscent of someone, but impossible to place. "Mind if I sit here?"

She shook her head unthinkingly, only to meet a familiar pair of verdant eyes. The boy from earlier. "Go ahead," she said, immediately averting her eyes.

"Igarashi Keiichi." He extended his right hand in greeting, and she shook it uncomfortably. "Nanase-chan, right?"

"A pleasure to meet you, Igarashi-kun," her voice sounded unsteady even to herself. Moments like this, she found herself despising her reticent nature. How could he possibly feel so comfortable interacting with a complete stranger? If he detected her discomfort, he made no indication of it, simply slipping into the adjacent seat in a surprisingly graceful manner that reminded her of Kise.

Eru cast a discreet glance at the wall clock and felt a wave of disappointment when she realised that there were five minutes left before class. She reached into her pocket, and her fingers wrapped themselves around her handphone. With some luck, she could look distracted enough to avoid a conversation with Igarashi.

"So Nanase-chan, what club were you signing up for earlier?" She withheld the sigh that threatened to spill from her lips and directed a tight smile in his direction. There was a wide grin on his face again, and she was starting to think that he had an unlimited supply of smiles to honour every occasion.

"The writing club," she replied, feeling nervous under his contemplative gaze. His eyes widened, and she found herself inadvertently studying it more closely. How unexpected it was for a Japanese to have such piercing green eyes. In a way, they were almost as captivating as Seijuro's distinctive heterochromatic ones.

"Seriously? What are the odds!" And there was the smile again, brighter this time – if that was possible. "I've always enjoyed writing," he sounded almost wistful, "Been in the club since junior high. Kind of unexpected, huh?"

She was saved from having to come up with an intelligent response when the teacher stepped into class. Conversations and any lingering sounds of laughter instantly faded away, and silence descended upon the class. His eyes swept over the students, appearing to quickly analyse each individual, before he turned to the chalkboard. In her peripheral vision, Igarashi leaned back in his seat expectantly. A few smooth strokes later, he stepped away to reveal his name written neatly – Ikeda Hiroshi.

Although he spent the entire class on introductions, settling administrative matters and confirming the literary texts, Eru found herself feeling distracted. Perhaps it was the incessant clicking of Igarashi's pen, or the hushed whispers coming from the row behind; or perhaps her subconscious mind really missed sitting next to Seijuro. At least he didn't tap the ground rhythmically or whisper irrelevant trivia while she was taking notes.

"Did you notice how Ikeda sensei has a habit of saying 'okay' after every few sentences?" Igarashi's voice sounded strained, like he was trying desperately to hold back his laughter. "Kind of dilutes the fear factor, you know?" After that comment, Eru couldn't quite avoid registering each time he repeated the word.

When the bell finally rang, Eru gathered her belongings into her messenger-style bag with noticeable relief. After hurriedly pushing in her chair, she briskly made her way to the door. Seijuro was already waiting outside the classroom when she exited the door. There was a tiny smile on his face when he approached her, his eyes shining, almost as if he had been waiting eagerly for her company. When she smiled in return, she hoped that he could see how much she had missed his company as well.

Then his eyes shifted away from hers to something behind her, before narrowing slightly. She felt a sudden tap on her shoulder, and whirled around to see Igarashi standing behind her, sheepishly running a hand through his messy black hair.

"See you tomorrow," he said, looking slightly abashed at his own forwardness, "Don't forget that there's club orientation too!" Then he smiled, and in that instant, Eru thought it looked breath-taking; not because he was extremely handsome – although he was, really – but because of the sincerity in his expression. And for some strange, unidentifiable reason, she felt her cheeks grow warm.

"I'll see you too, Igarashi-kun."

"Let's go, Eru," Seijuro interrupted, "We don't want to be late for science." He touched her arm gently, but she could feel the subtle tugging motion.

"Akashi-kun, right?" Igarashi asked, seemingly oblivious to Seijuro's displeased expression, "Nice to meet you too!"

"The pleasure is mine," Seijuro responded smoothly, barely disguising his inexplicable distaste, as he turned his body away from Igarashi, in a clear attempt to discontinue the conversation. As he held on to Eru's forearm and headed in the direction of 1-A, Eru cast an apologetic glance towards Igarashi, only to see him looking oddly bemused.


The sun was low when Eru strolled towards the school gates with Seijuro half a step ahead of her. At the stage between winter and spring, the temperature was always a perfect balance – cool enough to continue wearing sweaters, but warm enough to enjoy the outdoors and the fresh, crisp air. In these warmer months, Eru tried to avoid calling the chauffeur, Hikaru. It was her way of disassociating herself from her immense wealth, and maybe even a subtle attempt to rebel against her parents. Before the fateful game against Murasakibara, Seijuro had done the same; and, from the way he headed towards the station with decisive strides, it seemed to Eru that they were reverting to their old habits in Tokyo.

The open-air platform was a blessing in the spring. Cool gusts of wind ruffled the ends of Eru's scarf and left a sweet scent in its wake. Other students from Rakuzan milled around the train platform, conversing in low tones. She felt a light tug on her bag; when she met Seijuro's gaze, it was warm and understanding, without barely a hint of judgement. Eru's hold on the straps slackened just as his palm brushed over hers and he removed the bag from her grasp.

There was a distant rumbling before the train screeched to a halt at the platform. With one hand pressed against the small of Eru's back, Seijuro ushered her gently onto the train, before they settled down into adjacent seats. Outside, the sky was streaked with layers of pink and orange – a unique array of varying shades that she didn't think she would ever tire of.

"How are you feeling?" Seijuro's shrewd gaze seemed to pierce through her pretences, and she found the forced smile on her face fading.

"Like I've just run a marathon, but emotionally," Eru mumbled. Slumped in her seat, she found herself inadvertently leaning towards Seijuro until her head rested lightly against his shoulder. There was an almost-imperceptible intake of breath before his hand moved to rest on her thigh.

"Rest. I will wake you when we arrive." When he whispered, the warm breath felt indescribably soothing, and she found her eyes slipping shut despite her efforts. In the last moments of her consciousness, Eru felt a slight, but distinct pressure on her head as he planted a featherlight kiss against her hair.

Twenty minutes later, she felt a light nudge and she shifted drowsily in her seat just as the train rolled into the platform. While she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, Seijuro slung her bag over his shoulder with graceful ease and waited expectantly by the exit. Although he should've alighted at the next station, his penthouse suite was technically within walking distance of her home and he had insisted on accompanying her. Besides, she wasn't about to object to his decision – not when it ignited the peculiar warmth that came with reminiscing the past and relishing the present.

He paused when he realised that Eru had slowed to a halt and gazed at her questioningly. "Is everything all right? Would you rather I walked slower?"

For a moment she was dumbfounded; it had been a while since he had offered more than an imperative – or at best, a suggestion. To hear him explicitly ask for her opinion… she felt an inexplicable warmth, and her lips bore the hint of a smile.

When she quickened her pace to catch up, Seijuro cast a concerned glance in her direction, "Let's get you home. You must be tired." What was that phrase? Once hard ice melts, spring comes and flowers bloom. If this was what spring felt like, then she desperately wished that it was eternal, something that she could treasure for as long as she could remember. Maybe then, she'd always recall the lightness in her chest and the warmth in her heart.

The walk from the train station back home was lengthy, but pleasant. Since her mother had intentionally chosen a particularly traditional part of Kyoto – for the architecture and aura, she claimed – the journey was punctuated with Shinto-related décor, and even an occasional shrine. Other houses that lined the street were charming and rustic-looking; on her part, she rather enjoyed the atmosphere established by the houses' stereotypical wooden panelling, tatami screens and quaint gardens.

She led him to the end of the street, which was dominated by an attractive bungalow with sprawling gardens, that looked much like the other houses, if only several times larger. Beyond the wooden gate adorned with neatly-trimmed ivy lay an impeccable courtyard with an even, pebbled pathway lined with bonsai. Her mother had designed it when Eru was younger; surprisingly, it had been the result of her children's preference for traditional aesthetic.

"Here," Seijuro extended her bag towards her, "I'll be taking my leave." Eru was sure that it was a figment of her imagination, but she swore that Seijuro's fingers left a trail of warmth where they touched hers. Something reassuring, something familiar.

"I'll see you tomorrow!" she said lightly. In the fading light, it momentarily occurred to her that Seijuro's features looked oddly accentuated – the softness in his eyes that she sorely missed, the aristocratic slope of his nose. When he stepped forward to close the space between them, she wondered why she'd never paid closer attention to the intensity of his gaze.

She opened her mouth to make an irrelevant comment – anything, really, to distract her from the erratic beating of her heart. But she was interrupted by the feeling of his arms encircling her frame, as found herself being pulled closer to him. Then her head was pressed against his chest, his arms tightened their grip on her, and all she could register was how loud his heart was beating. His warmth was suffocating in the best way – the kind that put her dangerously at risk of free-falling into the storm of emotions that existed when he was with her.

When they broke apart, Eru thought the warmth should've instantly left her, but remnants of it lingered within her chest in a way she didn't think was possible. For a moment, a part of her wasn't convinced that she had the willpower to meet his eyes – after all, she might never be able to look away. Then, her gaze flickered upwards, and the knot in her stomach inadvertently tightened at the sight of the genuine smile that danced across his face, and the way his eyes glimmered with amusement and another emotion she couldn't identify.

As he turned to leave, she was struck by an unexpected pang of longing, triggered by either the barrage of memories from the past, or the immediate physical absence she felt when he was gone. It brought about a different kind of pain – from the recognition that he was there, but he wasn't. Maybe she was being naïve about this, about him. And maybe this was all there was to their relationship: a fearful, distraught girl desperately seeking solace in a refuge that she wasn't sure she could still return to. But maybe, it didn't matter that she couldn't return to the spring she knew and cherished; after all, the ice didn't need to melt for there to be beauty.


A/N: this concludes the first chapter of part II. they're finally at rakuzan; 16 and all grown up! the arc will focus on eru's background, akashi's contrasting mentalities, and most importantly (finally) the building up of romance

the descriptions of Rakuzan are completely not-canon because I don't think it was really the focus of a basketball anime haha, but I tried to depict it as grand, without being ostentatious. tell me what you think about the new character(s), setting and development! x


glossary:

karesansui: japanese rock garden

"once hard ice melts, spring comes and flowers bloom": an ancient Chinese phrase