moiety: a half; one of two equal parts
Sleep didn't come easily to Eru that night. Although she had brushed off the incident in front of Seijuro, she could not seem to divert her thoughts away from the experience of being cornered. Even by itself, the incident was terrifying; but compounded by the lingering memories of the past, she felt gripped by intense fear and a sudden inability to breathe. She flipped her pillow again to find a cooler surface to rest her head on, hoping that it would clear her head. But the moment she allowed her eyes to fall shut, the cruel expressions of the boys, the memory of being handled forcefully, and the terror she felt upon seeing their raised fists, crowded her thoughts. Her eyes flew open, and she could feel her heart beating wildly against her chest.
Finally, she decided to abandon her efforts to sleep. She shifted the clutter from her desk and pulled out a worn journal from the back of her drawer. After thumbing the pages uncertainly, she flipped open the book. The page that stared back at her was one she had always found herself revisiting. Pretty cursive decorated the top – Umi – but the edges had yellowed slightly from overhandling over the years. She turned the pages again until she found a blank one. With a deep breath, she allowed her hesitant hand to guide her pen across the paper.
She hadn't realised that she had fallen asleep while writing, but her morning alarm was a cruel reminder that she would have to survive the long school day without sufficient rest. Her morning routine was carried out sluggishly; as a result, she only just managed to slip into the empty seat next to Seijuro as the bell chimed and Shimizu sensei walked in.
Seijuro barely looked her, and she could tell that something about him was off. She considered asking him what was wrong, but in her moment of hesitation, Shimizu sensei began addressing the class and she lost the opportunity.
Homeroom ended a couple of minutes before their electives, which gave her some time to ask Seijuro why he was so preoccupied. "What're you thinking about?" She touched his arm to get his attention.
"Our starting line-up is imperfect."
"What do you mean?"
"Our starting line-up is powerful with three Uncrowned Kings and me. However…" His voice trailed off. "There is something we need to make our inevitable success even more convincing." She tilted her head in confusion.
"Tetsuya." His voice was soft, but it held another quality she could not quite identify – it sent shivers down her spine.
Her eyes widened. "Kuroko-kun?" she repeated uncertainly. "Didn't he go to Seirin High School?" Now she was concerned. Surely Seijuro wouldn't go as far as to convince – or manipulate – Kuroko to join Rakuzan.
"I trained him." Seijuro's tone was thoughtful. "It would not be impossible to do that again."
Her mouth fell open. Was Seijuro really going to create a new version of Kuroko? That was insane, and it felt heartless – as though Kuroko was someone who could easily be replaced. Before she could think of a response, he gathered his belongings, said goodbye, and left the classroom without another backward glance.
She slipped into the gymnasium towards the end of the club session. The boys were in the middle of a practice game; the first string members who weren't involved were seated on the spectator benches, cheering their teammates on. Amidst the flurry of intense gameplay, her eyes were immediately drawn to his bright hair, and her attention was sustained by his seamless, purposeful movements across the court. He scored again, and the team cheered; apparently most had already forgotten how upset they were that he was in the starting line-up. When the coach finally sounded the whistle to signal the end of the match, Eru glanced at the score. 78-45. From the hushed silence that fell over the gymnasium, it appeared that others had realised this too. It seemed that Seijuro had somehow established himself as unrivalled in terms of ability within a few weeks of joining the reigning national champions.
After congratulating the winning team, coach Shirogane sensei gathered the members for a final debrief. Listening to him point out areas that needed work, encourage the members to continue honing their skills through practice, and praise those who showed improvement stirred a quiet yearning to be a part of the community again. Then Shirogane sensei cleared his throat and waited for the whispers to die down, as though preparing to make a big announcement.
"We have made an unprecedented decision this year," he started slowly, and Eru suddenly felt a wave of anxiety bubbling up in her. "Our current captain is stepping down early to make way for someone else, as he is no longer a starting member. It was a difficult choice, but one that the manager and I have decided to support." Shocked whispers broke out among the members. Despite the confusion from overlapping conversations, one question kept recurring: who was going to take over?
"Quieten down so that I can continue," Shirogane sensei said, and the boys reluctantly fell silent. "As I said, this is an unprecedented decision and I know there will be some disagreement… but we have great confidence in our choice. I ask that you respect our judgement and work alongside our new captain, Akashi Seijuro."
In the moment following the announcement, Eru swore that she could've heard a pin drop. Then, the tension was broken by a few tentative claps, and confused congratulations. From where she was seated, she could see mixed feelings on the faces of the members: she had no doubt that they recognised his prowess and intelligence, but they naturally questioned the decision to make a newcomer captain within weeks of his arrival. She locked eyes with Seijuro, and she could see a glimmer of self-assuredness beneath his schooled expression. It should've inspired confidence, but it caused a shiver to run down her spine instead. She turned away again. This was such a high honour for him, but she couldn't help but feel an impending sense of doom; he was more than equipped to do the job, but she was unconvinced that it was the right time for him to be in charge. Being captain could be the undoing of all her efforts, and it didn't help that he looked far too pleased.
After the clamour of voices faded, and the boys dispersed, Seijuro headed straight for the corner of the gym where she was standing. The smile that hung on his lips didn't quite reach his eyes, making him look cold and almost cruel.
"Eru," he said, and she saw the hardness dissipate momentarily. Her muscles relaxed.
"Congratulations." She touched him gently on his arm. "But watch yourself, okay? Success isn't the most important thing, you know."
He brushed her warning off with a self-assured smile. "Under me, Rakuzan will show everyone how the game should really be played." Her heart sank at his words, and she felt the crushing weight of a burden she had almost gotten used to not carrying.
"Let's go home, Seijuro." She tightened her grip on his arm, urging him to listen. "Please."
"You can go ahead without me. I'll see you tomorrow," he responded, turning away from her. "There is something I need to do."
The setting sun illuminated his figure making his way across the courtyard and cast a long shadow behind him. Her legs carried her outside the gym on their own accord, spurred by the lonely picture he painted. But then, the drifting clouds shielded the sun from view, and the warmth disappeared and the lingering chill of early spring set in. Her footsteps halted and she remained outside the gym, watching him motionlessly until she could not see him anymore.
When she set her belongings down on her desk the next morning, her eyelids were heavy from a lack of sleep the previous night. Exhausted, she sank her head to rest on her arms that were folded on the table. Outside, the sky was cloudy and unpleasant – a warning for an imminent storm later in the day. Just as she was about to close her eyes for a quick nap, a distinctive head of red hair entered her peripheral vision. He was striding purposefully across the school grounds, towards the gym; her chest tightened out of concern. What could he be doing? And why hadn't he mentioned anything about this to her? After another moment of hesitation, she decided to obey her gut and follow him.
The door to the gym had been left ajar, so Eru cautiously slipped inside. It seemed that all the lights were off, until she noticed there were some turned on in the adjacent locker room. As she neared the boys' locker room, she heard some unidentifiable voices – and then, an all-too-familiar one that cut through the others.
"Clear out your locker rooms. I expect that none of your belongings will be here when practice starts later."
"No way you can do that! I'm telling Shirogane sensei."
"Go ahead. I'll let him know about the incident two days ago."
"What?" Another voice exclaimed indignantly. "That wasn't my idea anyway. Besides, it's not like she was even hurt. You can't kick us off!"
"I don't think you understand: my words are absolute." The steel in his voice could cut through anything. "Now leave."
She heard them scramble to gather their belongings, and barely had time to back away from the door before it was kicked wide open. The angry-looking boys who muttered a few choice expletives towards Seijuro were the same boys who had cornered her the other day. In their haste to leave the gym, they didn't even notice her presence.
"He can't get away with this. I'm going to tell Shirogane."
"You already heard him. If you do that, we'll get into huge trouble."
"Screw it," the leader responded. "Screw him."
"Well, if you think that'll work." His snickers quickly fell silent at the furious glare of the leader. Once the boys exited the gym, the air suddenly took on a suffocating quality. She thought back to the short exchange that she had caught. There was no other conclusion except that Seijuro was using his newly acquired authority as captain to banish those boys from the basketball club. Her throat tightened further.
A soft click alerted her to Seijuro exiting the locker room himself. When his eyes settled on her, his footsteps slowed to a stop.
"What are you doing here?" The coldness from before had not left his voice.
"I…" She trailed off, words failing her. What could she say? Would he even listen to her?
"If you have nothing to say, I will head back to class." The eyes that she had found comfort and safety in only yesterday now only reflected single-minded determination to succeed. With indifference and arrogance etched on every inch of his features, he looked unrecognisable. Any effect that her words and actions had on him since coming to Rakuzan seemed to have vanished. In its place was the man his father had wanted him to become.
She remained rooted to the same spot, even after Seijuro exited the gym. Distantly, she registered the sound of school bells signalling the start of the first period; but she continued to stare blankly at the ground, until her vision blurred with unshed tears. Why did he have to talk to her in that way? Why did this always happen to her? There had to be something wrong with her if the important people in her life turned against her again and again. Feeling weak, she sank to the ground. Her entire body trembled, including the hand she used to wipe away the stubborn tears that trailed down her cheeks.
A desperate ache filled her chest, and she was overcome with a familiar feeling of yearning for someone to be there – someone she could talk to; someone who could take this painful, crushing weight away from her. She knew it was because she was weak – only the weak couldn't handle their own burdens and needed others to take them away. She took a shuddering breath in an effort to stabilise her emotions. Her independence was the only thing she could cling on to, to remind herself that she was stronger than others thought her to be. The moment she gave in asked for help was the moment she admitted that everyone had been right about her.
It took her a good half an hour to wash the signs of her breakdown from her cheeks, tidy her hair, and straighten her uniform. Her eyes and nose were still a tell-tale red, but she reasoned that it was unnoticeable as long as no one looked too closely at her. Given that there was still ten minutes before homeroom ended – and it was too late to enter the classroom without raising eyebrows – Eru trudged slowly across the central courtyard, back to the main building.
"Hey, ace!" The voice calling out to her instantly redirected her attention away from the gravel path beneath her feet, to an unexpected, but familiar face.
"Igarashi-kun?" Her tone was of surprise. "What are you doing here? Don't you have homeroom?" She made her way towards where he was seated, at one of the stone tables close enough to the main building that it could not be seen from the windows of the classrooms above.
"Rushing the assignment for lit class later," he responded sheepishly, running a hand through his hair. "What about you? Didn't peg you as the late type."
"Oh, um…" She unconsciously raised her hand to rub away any phantom traces of tears from her eyes. "I had to settle something before school." Even to her own ears, she sounded hollow. To make matters worse, although she had concealed physical traces of her earlier breakdown, the unsteadiness in her voice betrayed her true emotions.
"You all right?" He tilted his head at an angle that would allow him to meet her downcast gaze. "Did something happen?"
"It's fine," she mumbled. "I'm fine." The world's most unconvincing lie – yet the heaviness she felt in her chest seemed to stop her from coming up with anything better.
He squinted at her shrewdly. "You can't seriously be the type of person who thinks that asking for help is a weakness." Seeing the cornered expression on her face, he hastily added, "you know, it's really fine if you can't solve your own problems. No one can do everything by themselves. That's why we have friends."
It was impossible that he could somehow have known exactly what she had just been thinking about. And yet, his words were precisely what she needed to hear. At her lack of response, he began apologising: "I mean, I didn't mean to make assumptions or anything, sorry." He raised his hands in surrender.
"No," she replied. "No that's okay. You were – are – right." Absentmindedly, she sank down on the seat next to him. Obviously, she had heard others say it before – that relying on others was not a weakness. Some even had the nerve to call it strength. This was tempting to believe, but her mother's words echoed through her mind: "Grow up. Stop being so weak. If you keep asking ridiculous questions, everyone will know how stupid you are." It drowned everything else out; it forced her to recognise her inadequacies. How could the solution be something as easy as friendship?
"I'm not gonna guess why you think asking for help is wrong," he began carefully, "but you should know that people who encourage that way of thinking just want to make others feel isolated and helpless. Because you won't dare to fight back, and you won't tell anyone who'd advise you to fight back either."
The wave of thoughts clamouring for her attention suddenly receded as she registered Igarashi's words. No one had ever put it like that before; not in a way that incriminated her parents for manipulating her actions. She must have still looked conflicted, because he quickly added, "all I'm saying is that people who care about you will always be happy to help you if you need it. They're not going to take is as proof of weakness or something."
"Thank you," she said quietly. "You don't know how much I needed to hear that."
"Always here to offer words of wisdom." He shrugged good-naturedly and tipped a non-existent fedora.
"Yeah?" Eru gave him a tiny smile. "Then I can't wait to hear more."
She bade him farewell before she had the chance to do something embarrassing – like cry – in front of him, and headed into the main building. Finding a deserted corridor, she leaned against the wall and let out a weary sigh. Trembling fingers scrolled through the contacts of her phone to find a particular name. After a moment's hesitation, she pressed the icon to call him. There was silence; then, the sound of the ringtone as she waited for him to answer.
"Is this urgent?"
"Hello?" Her voice cracked, "Midorima? Are you free?"
"Nanase? Did something happen?" Even over the phone, his concern for her rang clear.
"Midorima, I – I can't… Seijuro… He –" The overwhelming emotions she felt refused to be put into coherent sentences.
"Slow down." His voice was gentle. "Start from the beginning."
"He was just made captain of Rakuzan. I – That's not good..." She trailed off.
"What is worrying you? Do you think he won't be able to manage?"
"No, that's not it. It's just… he was getting better, you know? I could almost see the oldhim. But now…"
"Now?" He prompted. "Did something happen today, Nanase?"
"Yeah." She felt the tears prick her eyes again. "Do you remember Haizaki-san?" Midorima made a noise of disgust in response. "Seijuro did it again."
"Akashi forced someone out of the team?"
"Three people," she whispered. Now that she had said it out loud, it almost did not feel real. "I didn't catch the start of the conversation, but I know he kicked them all out."
Midorima remained quiet for a few seconds. "I see," he said at last. "But it was just like last time?"
"Exactly like with Haizaki-san," she confirmed ruefully. "All that was missing was a painful one-on-one with Kise. Midorima, it was like… like everything I've worked to improve – it's worthless. He hasn't gone back to how he was. I don't even know if he ever will."
"Why do you want him to return to how he was before?"
"What?" She spluttered in disbelief. "Why wouldn't you? He was kind and patient and caring. Now he's… he's cold and cruel and – and… different." Her indignant reasoning fell silent as she considered her own words.
"Different," Midorima echoed unhelpfully. "Is that necessarily bad?"
"The real him is trapped inside," she insisted. "This isn't who he really is."
"Nanase," he interjected sharply. "Remember what I told you in Teiko. Do not be so naïve as to believe that you can change him. And be careful that you don't delude yourself: even though you may be right that a side of him is trapped, the Akashi you see now is still very much a part of who he is."
A sudden wave of cold gripped her heart upon hearing his words. She had been so desperate to change who he was – to find the real him that was hidden deep beneath layers of ice – that she had never stopped to consider that this version of Seijuro was equally real. She had only clung to the blind hope that their relationship would return to normal. What if it didn't? Would she be fine if he remained this way?
"It is difficult to hear." His tone was kinder. "But if you truly care about him – and I know you do – you cannot choose to only accept half of him."
"But it's not him," she repeated weakly. "I know him. This isn't him."
"It isn't all of him," Midorima agreed. His voice held a mix of sympathy and tired insistence, like he knew she was not convinced by her own argument, but did not know how else to confront her. "Nanase, I mean no offence when I say this, but if you wish to continue your… relationship with Akashi, you cannot do so with the blind hope that you can change him."
Her entire head felt heavy with the tears that did not seem to fall, despite the overwhelming feeling of helplessness. He was right, of course – he rarely was not. But it hurt to be told that she had been so unwittingly caught up in the seemingly heroic, but inherently selfish, desire to change Seijuro, that she never once thought about appreciating who he was now.
"You have a lot to process now. Regretfully, I cannot stay any longer because my class is starting." A pause. "You may call me later if you wish to continue the conversation." Another pause. "I am sorry that I could not tell you what you wanted to hear."
"Thank you, Midorima. I think you told me what I needed to hear."
"I am here for you," he mumbled the awkward reassurance, before quickly hanging up. It was true that Midorima had failed to give her the assurance she had been hoping for, but it was true that he had given her a direction. The burden that had settled itself so resolutely on her shoulders felt lighter now, not in the least because he had somehow resolved her turmoil, but because he was now sharing in it. She felt a surge of warmth and gratitude toward Midorima, whose reluctant kindness was an unexpected antidote for her troubled mind.
While dusting off her uniform, Eru checked her phone to see that she had less than two minutes to get to literature class. As she hurried down the hallways that were slowly beginning to fill up with other students, someone reached out for her shoulder.
"We meet again, Nanase-chan." He smiled brightly at her. "You look better."
"I feel better," she agreed. "Thank you again for your advice earlier. It really helped."
His eyes softened with understanding. "Don't mention it. Anyway, you'd better hurry up or you're going to miss two classes today."
"You'd be missing two classes too!"
"Well, yes," he replied, with exaggerated slowness, "but you're forgetting that I don't care." He met her unimpressed expression with cheerful laughter. "Just kidding. Come on, or we really will be late."
A warm hand circled her wrist and gently pulled her along. She stumbled forward the first few steps, before catching up to him. The mischievous light dancing in his eyes when she briefly met his gaze filled her with an unfamiliar desire to trust him; it silenced any protests that were on the tip of her tongue. And for the first time in far too long, she allowed someone else to guide her.
A/N: thank you for continuing to read this despite the very long periods between chapters LOL. I truly appreciate the support for this fic. hope everyone's had a great christmas break, even though I'm sure many things in 2021 didn't quite go according to plan. wishing everyone a happy new year!:)
