stargazing: to observe the stars or other objects in space; often associated with the belief that the position of the stars influences people's lives
The familiar squeak of basketball shoes against the floor of the practice court was almost cathartic – a sound she did not think she would miss, but still had. Since she had agreed to accompany him to his practices whenever she was free, she was seated on a wooden bench, trying in vain to get her work done. It was utterly distracting being in a place she now considered her element, only to have close to zero involvement.
It was the club's first practice of the year, and it appeared that Rakuzan High wasn't all that different from Teiko when it came to deciding the key players of the season. The boys had been separated into different teams to play their practice games, and were now gathered around the coach, waiting to be sorted into the three strings.
"Akashi Seijuro," the coach, Shirogane sensei, called. "First string." Eru found herself clapping, although she had not thought any other result possible. There was a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth when he moved to join the upperclassmen in the first string, like he had expected it too.
Then unfamiliar names of the other first years blurred together in her mind as quickly as they were read out. It was oddly liberating – knowing that this was no longer her responsibility, and that she did not have to observe the members with a critical eye anymore. After everyone assigned, there was a layer of palpable tension in the air as each individual waited expectantly for the coach's next words.
"I will now announce the starting members for the first string." That was the sole moment of the entire afternoon where Eru didn't feel a shred of envy for the coach. She had never enjoyed delivering bad news; and in a school nationally renowned for its basketball team, intense competition was inevitable, and there were bound to be many facing immense disappointment at the results.
"Fujikawa Tamaki." The captain sheepishly raised his hand in acknowledgement. "Mibuchi Reo, Hayama Kotaro, Eikichi Nebuya and Akashi Seijuro.
"While this is unprecedented," the Shirogane sensei continued, "the manager and I have decided to begin the season with a brand-new member. Bear in mind that he was part of the generation of miracles from Teiko Junior High, and we hold him in high regard."
The tension in the air was almost palpable; after all, no one had quite expected to be instantly outshone by a first year. Eru caught a few sceptical looks thrown in Seijuro's direction, and she could not help the wave of indignation she felt on his behalf.
Once the boys were dismissed after a quick reminder to attend practice that Friday, Seijuro made his way towards her with a definite air of satisfaction.
"Feeling self-important now that you're the only first year to have been chosen as a starter at the beginning of the school year?" Eru smiled, nudging his side gently.
"Not quite," he said, and she could hear a hint of amusement underlying his words. "It was an unsurprising decision."
"Okay," she laughed, "But be careful, all right? I think a lot of people aren't particularly pleased with it." Just as she finished her warning, a group from the first string walked past them, pausing momentarily to cast Seijuro a look of distaste.
"Come, Eru, let's go." He appeared to be unfazed, but Eru did not miss the hardness in his eyes that spoke volumes about his true feelings. Still, he briefly reached out to press his palm gently against the small of her back as they stepped out of the gym; in that second, the ice thawed again to reveal his soft, genuine smile. It was over as quickly as it happened, but she held on to it tightly, uncertain when she would see it again.
The spring air was unexpectedly chilly, and Eru found herself shivering not long after they had left the sports hall. Her attempts to inconspicuously run her hands along her arms for a semblance of warmth did not go unnoticed, and she soon felt the soft, down material of Seijuro's windbreaker being draped over her shoulders.
"Keep it for tonight. I don't want you to be cold for the rest of the way home."
"Thank you," she smiled, "tell me if you get cold, all right?"
"I won't."
"You won't get cold, or you won't tell me if you're cold?" Eru eyed him sceptically.
"Both." His lips carried the faintest trace of amusement. In his own way, Seijuro consistently managed to prove himself thoughtful – even after his shift in personality. The boy she had come to admire and trust over the years was still there inside him, even if he did not always succeed in making it apparent.
The sky was still dark when Eru woke up, her body covered with a sheen of cold sweat. Although the frequency of her recurrent nightmares had reduced since winter, it did not make them any less haunting. She wrapped her covers around her shivering frame, hoping that it would give her some form of comfort. But her efforts were futile, and she quickly found herself pulling on Seijuro's windbreaker over her t-shirt and sweatpants before slipping into her shoes and leaving the house.
It smelled like him.
The traitorous thought lingered at the corner of her mind, tucked away simply because Eru didn't feel like she was ready to deal with it. But it really did – of the green tea he liked to drink, of his fresh aftershave, and of something else that was uniquely him. She tugged the jacket more tightly around herself and inhaled; his scent made her feel like he was there with her, and for now, that would suffice in bringing her some semblance of peace.
Outside her home, the sky was was a midnight blue, stretching on endlessly without real beginning or end. She settled herself on a bench in the garden and tilted her head towards the darkness above. On nights that she had difficulty sleeping, stargazing was her solution. There was something breath-taking in the simple, unobtrusive way that each tiny star served as a small pinprick of good amidst the vast expanse of fear and turmoil; after all, the darker the night, the brighter the light.
Still, it was strange how a person's mood could change so dramatically in such a short time. Just yesterday, her heart had felt so light after conquering her club orientation and attending Seijuro's first basketball practice. But now, the same nightmare that kept forcing her to revisit haunting events of the past had left her distraught once again.
Eru stayed there, with her back against the bench, until the sun made its first appearance over the horizon. If she had to choose her favourite time of the day, this would be it: when the golden rays gradually bathed the neighbourhood in a soft, warm glow, and the sky was a myriad of pastel shades far too complex to describe. Despite the storm of thoughts crowding her mind, her lips curved upwards in a tiny smile.
Breakfast was a light affair – flat white coffee and a toasted bagel. Knowing that parents would have disapproved of her untraditional choices, Eru lost no time slipping out of the sliding door with her school bag in one hand and Seijuro's windbreaker in the other. The streets were still empty; it seemed as though the rest of the neighbourhood had yet to wake. Early mornings spent alone were moments she cherished, mostly because her schedule was often so packed that it was rare to find pockets of time for a brief respite.
Although Eru had grown accustomed to the pressure over time, it was difficult not to feel a slight tinge of discontentment towards her circumstances. Being a part of an eminent family wasn't as glamorous as people often portrayed it to be; beneath the immense wealth, luxury and opportunities that came with carrying such a name, lay the darker reality: the pressure to excel, and the fact that her entire life had been structured for her, regardless of what she wanted for herself. Especially now that her parents had no choice but to make her their successor, there was the added expectation of measuring up to the person they had always intended as their heir.
And yet, this type of burden was not something she could talk about freely, because people often misunderstood, and promptly dismissed it as a problem for the privileged. While she could not fault them for thinking that way, she didn't think it was a completely fair judgement either. Everyone fights battles that are unique to their own circumstance. Maybe some struggles were objectively more difficult to overcome than others, but that should never be a reason to regard someone else's struggles as lesser.
Since it was the peak of the cherry blossom season, pale pink and white petals lay scattered all over the sidewalk, giving the worn, grey stones a welcome dash of colour; their bittersweet scent could be detected faintly in the gentle breeze that ruffled her brown curls. If she had to choose a favourite season, it would most certainly be spring. It represented a time of renewal, beauty, and life – especially in contrast to the deathly cold of winter, which would always be associated with unpleasant memories.
Even back in Tokyo, Eru would choose to walk to school the moment the ice began to thaw, and the first signs of life could be seen beneath the residual patches of melted snow. There was just something so liberating about distancing herself from the affluence, and she relished the moments that she could draw a clear distinction between the life she wanted and the one her parents wanted for her.
"Good morning." She felt someone gently tug the windbreaker from her hand.
"Hey," she said brightly, turning to face Seijuro. There was an uncharacteristically broad smile on his face, and she raised an eyebrow in question.
"My father finally finished settling his business here and moved back to Tokyo this morning."
"That's great!" She nudged him lightly and smiled up at him, genuinely feeling happy for him, but struggling to quell the pang of envy at his obvious relief.
"It is." He looped an arm around her shoulder good-naturedly – something he had not done since their days in Teiko.
"I wish my parents would move back to Tokyo, too," she sighed. "But they'll be here for at least the rest of the year. It depends on how long it takes for them to set up this new branch of the business."
His mouth opened, then closed abruptly, as if he were about to ask her a question but thought better of it. "You are always welcome to stay with me." he responded instead. His voice was warm – soft, even – and carried his message in undertones: you will be safe with me.
Moments like this with Seijuro were always reminiscent of the first signs of nature emerging from the snow-covered grass, when winter transitioned into spring. The drastic changes to Seijuro's personality had never been new; they had always been present, concealed beneath the kind, gentle version of himself that he fought to keep there. Both sides were intrinsically him and were breath-taking in their own right – just like how winter and spring both had their inherent appeal. She allowed her eyes to meet his shrewd gaze, before pressing her body more closely to him, and allowing him to guide them towards the classroom.
The rest of the week flew by in a flurry of new faces and new situations. At this time in Kyoto, the cherry blossoms were in full bloom, and it was arguably the most gorgeous time of the year. Eru had woken up to the soft rays of the morning sun and had chosen to migrate to her window seat, where she rested her head against the cool glass. The traditional houses really did look their best in spring – when the scattered pink petals adorned the dark wooden panels and made them look cosy and alive.
Her musings were interrupted by the chime of the doorbell. She glanced at the clock by her bedside, and quickly leapt to her feet when she realised that she was running slightly late to her meeting with Seijuro. She tugged on a white sweater over her t-shirt, and hurried to the front door, hastily pulling her hair free from the messy ponytail it had been in.
"Akashi-kun!" She heard her mother greet enthusiastically. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" Eru reached the foyer in time to see the familiar smile her mother always wore at business functions.
"Good morning, Nanase-san," Seijuro greeted politely. "I'm here to pick Eru up."
"Well, that's a surprise. I wasn't aware that she had made plans to go out today." Misaki threw a quick glance in Eru's direction, her eyes slightly narrowed, before turning back to Seijuro. "Do you mind waiting in the foyer while I speak to Eru for a moment?"
Her mother's enchanting smile was back on her face, but the nearly imperceptible hardness in Seijuro's expression showed that he had not missed the growing tension and undertone of annoyance. Still, he nodded amiably and waited for her mother's back to be turned, before he cast Eru a concerned glance. She shook her head, expression tight, and followed her mother to the kitchen.
When the door clicked shut, Eru braced herself for the worst. Her mother no longer treated anything lightly, and even the mere failure to inform her of plans could evoke her harsh anger.
"You should have informed me of your plans, Eru. It amazes me that you are still this irresponsible at your age – as if I didn't raise you properly."
You didn't, she wanted to say, but she bit the words back. Arguing had not worked for the last four years, and it would not start now. Besides, her mother sounded calmer than she usually did, and there was still some hope that she could escape this unscathed – even if her demeanour was slightly unsettling.
"It is good that you are close to Akashi-kun." Misaki took a step closer to her. "He is a valuable connection to have, especially since he is the heir of his father's company. How is your relationship?"
"It's fine," Eru responded, reluctant to share further.
Her mother's features were taut with annoyance. "She grew up faster than you did. She had so much potential." Her mother's voice was low but sharp all the same. "And you… you can't even do the simplest things."
Her throat tightened and she felt a few traitorous tears fall from her eyes. "I'm sorry," Eru said finally. "I'll see you tonight." She pushed past Misaki and headed towards the front door, aggressively brushing away at the signs of her hurt.
She tugged at Seijuro's arm, wordlessly leading him away from her home. To his credit, he remained silent, apparently deciding that it wasn't the appropriate time to push her for answers. When her footfalls became less indignant and she slowed down enough to walk in step with him, Seijuro quietly took the lead. His movements were careful and steady, as he gently helped her onto the train, and encouraged her to lean her head on his shoulder for the journey.
By the time they alighted at Maruyama Park, Eru was feeling decidedly better. All around her, the cherry blossom trees were in full bloom, with the occasional pink petals descending slowly as the gentle breeze shook the branches. Even the fact that it was crowded with tourists did not detract from her enjoyment of the scenery and the growing lightness in her heart. They settled down on an empty stone bench, content to read quietly next to one another while appreciating the long-awaited beauty of springtime in Kyoto. It seemed like everyone around them was happy too, holding hands, laughing, and posing for photographs; maybe this was the power of spring – if it was capable of thawing the horrid cold of winter, then it surely could lift spirits too.
"I'm sorry about earlier," she said. "I shouldn't have taken it out on you like that."
"You did not." Seijuro angled his body towards her, and she almost felt nervous at the scrutiny she was under. "Tell me what happened?" He sounded cautious – more so than he had been in the past when he had asked her about her family – and she felt a sudden, inexplicable compulsion to open up to him.
"She was angry that I didn't tell her about our plans today," she began, casting a hesitant glance in Seijuro's direction. Upon seeing his encouraging gesture, she continued, "It might seem insignificant, but I guess to her, it was a sign of ingratitude and poor behaviour. She has high expectations of me, and I… fail to meet it most of the time.
"After that, she asked me about you. Ever since we became friends, she's been telling me to remain close to you because of your value as a business partner in the future. That's all she cares about – how much of an asset I am to our family and the company," Eru finished bitterly.
Seijuro remained silent, appearing to be lost in thought. Then, unexpectedly, he reached out for her hand and gently took it in his. "It is like that for our families," he began slowly, "The expectations and pressure. Friends being reduced to connections for the company; us being reduced to assets for our family. It is the same for me, so I understand." He squeezed her hand once, firmly, and the uncharacteristically gentle way he was behaving reminded her so much of the person he used to be, that she felt particularly vulnerable. A tear tracked down her cheek.
"It's so hard," she whispered, "and I'm so tired of all of this."
"I know." His heterochromatic eyes were soft when they regarded her, and he allowed a few moments for her to settle down before continuing. "Does she always treat you in that way?"
There was hesitation in her voice when she finally responded. "It started off physical. Canings or beatings to punish us for misbehaviour or serve as reminders for mistakes. It was the worst four years ago, but I guess it stopped being so effective towards the end of junior high, because that's when she changed her tactics. Now she just uses whatever words she thinks will hurt me the most. It's all right," she added hastily, "I'm used to it, and it doesn't happen as long as I meet her expectations."
"It is not all right, and you do not have to pretend it is." Seijuro's voice was hard. "Besides, you will not go through this alone anymore; you have me now."
"I have you now," she echoed softly, the weight in her chest now tangibly lighter.
He smiled at her in response and shifted just a bit closer; the warmth of his body was incredibly familiar and safe, quite like the feeling of coming home. If she focussed on this moment, where he was the uncanny reflection of the boy she once knew, she could almost imagine that they were back in Teiko, and that nothing had changed.
