fascination: to be strongly attracted to, or interested in, something or someone
The warmth of the sun in mid-May was something Eru had sorely missed during the unforgiving winter months. Angling her face towards the window, she allowed its gentle heat to wash away the tiredness from her eyes and refocussed her attention on the dreary calculus lesson. Beside her, Seijuro's head hung low over his notebook as he meticulously solved maths problems that would only be assigned to them the following week. His brightly coloured hair, and the way he scrunched up his nose when concentrating, had unwittingly captured her the entire day.
Since her mind had stumbled upon the possibility of being attracted to him the day before, she seemed to have developed a heightened awareness of him – his movements, expressions, voice, and most frighteningly, his appearance. When a particularly long strand of hair fell across his eyes, she was overcome with an unfamiliar, but very real desire to brush it aside. Where had all this come from? Was she not feeling confused about him just a moment ago? But it seemed like the fragmented thoughts inside her regarding Seijuro had just clicked neatly into place. There was no question, after all: her sentiments towards him stretched far beyond the time when they were only thirteen.
Apparently noticing her eyes on him, Seijuro looked up from his work, arching an eyebrow in question. Even if he had missed her attention before, the hot flush of her cheeks surely gave her away now. Without thinking, she averted her gaze, and picked up her pen to start writing again.
It was with great relief that Eru acknowledged the last tolling of the bell for the day. As she was keeping her stationery, she noticed in her peripheral vision that Seijuro had halted his movements beside her and was now facing her with an air of expectation. Her own motions stilled.
"Will you be coming for practice?" In place of his typically commanding statements was a question filled with uncharacteristic uncertainty. She felt a tug on her heart at the rare display of vulnerability.
"I'm coming," she assured him. "Let's go together."
He nodded, tucking his bookbag under one arm and slipping the other into the pocket of his blazer. Once she was ready, he held the door for her to leave the classroom, before falling in step beside her. There was a tenseness in the air that she had not felt with him in a long time, so much so that she hesitated to break the silence first in case Seijuro was not in the mood for conversation. Consequently, the quiet was allowed to remain between them until they reached the locker rooms.
"How was your outing yesterday?" He asked.
"It was all right," she said cheerfully, missing the touch of acrimony in his voice. "Igarashi-kun and I went to a soufflé pancake place, and we ended up talking for really long about the writing piece that we were assigned to finish together. Did I tell you about that yet?"
"You did not." His tone was short. With his back turned away from her as he put on his regular shoes, she could only make out an unnatural tautness to his shoulders.
"Um, basically we're assigned a theme to work on with our partners over the next month." She tried to get a glimpse of his expression as they started walking across the courtyard. "It's supposed to help us improve by giving us the platform to critique and learn from each other."
"You chose him as your partner?" This time, he made no effort to conceal the scathing undertone of his words.
"I didn't," she said placatingly. "I thought I told you that the president assigned us together in the very first session."
"You must be pleased about that decision."
"What?" Eru felt her irritation bubble to the surface, and she whipped around to face him with indignation. "What are you even trying to say?"
"Don't be so emotional. I am simply stating a fact that you must be pleased that you have so many opportunities to spend time with him."
Though normally mild-mannered, her temper flared up at the immaturity he was suddenly displaying. "I am happy," she said with great emphasis, "because he's my friend and I enjoy being around him."
"You must enjoy being around him more than me, considering all your efforts to avoid me recently." He lengthened his strides to enter through the gym doors before her.
"What do you mean? That's so unfair!" She stormed in after him. "How could you say that?"
Setting his belongings down on the benches, he turned around to level his gaze with hers. "Are my words untrue? Were you not avoiding me?"
"I – That's not fair of you to say. We've known each other for so much longer, and our friendship can't be replaced so easily." Somewhere, the feelings of frustration towards his petulance had faded into hurt that he thought she would trade away their relationship so thoughtlessly. "He's just –"
"We will continue this later," he interrupted her, with a tone of finality. Leaving her at the spectator stands, he strode to the centre of the gymnasium. Any stray conversation instantly died down, as his presence commanded the room's attention.
"We have a new member of the first string, and I will personally be responsible for his tutelage. He will join our starting line-up in time for the Winter Cup."
"Mayuzumi Chihiro," a boy with silver-coloured hair stepped away from the crowd, his expression blank. Eru leaned forward for a better glimpse of him and was surprised to observe that his features bore an eerie resemblance to someone. "I will be taking over Fujikawa senpai after the Interhigh."
The room exploded with confused whispering.
"He's replacing the old captain?"
"Who's that?"
"Wasn't he in the third string before?"
"How's he in the starting line-up then?"
"My decision is absolute." Seijuro's voice cut through the noise. Surveying the room with narrowed eyes, he continued, "If you take issue with it, you have one chance to voice it out now." He did nothing to conceal the threatening undertone in his words; from her vantage point in the bleachers, Eru could see the members instantly make a unanimous decision to submit.
Refocussing her attention back on Mayuzumi, she felt a chill run up her spine to accompany her growing horror at the realisation that he looked like Kuroko. A taller, silver-haired version of their old friend, complete with an uncanny lack of presence. Eyes widening, she recalled their conversation a few weeks ago, when he had mentioned securing the most convincing victory for Rakuzan. He had never expressed any doubt in their ability to retain their title as Champions at the Interhigh or the Winter Cup; as such, there had to be a more nebulous underlying reason for his recruitment of Mayuzumi.
"As mentioned during the last training, we are hosting Horikawa High for a practice match today. We will be playing with our regular starters until I decide Chihiro is ready."
Once he finished speaking, the members quickly dispersed – either to the two smaller gyms adjacent to the main one or to the bleachers. When practice matches were held, members had the freedom to decide if they would benefit more from watching the match or polishing their skills. She watched as Seijuro and Shirogane sensei spoke briefly with Horikawa's coach and captain, exchanged handshakes, and then organised their respective teams into orderly rows facing one another.
From the moment the ball was tossed into the air, and Nebuya's fingers curved around the ball and passed it sideways to the waiting Mibuchi, Rakuzan seemed to have an almost unfair advantage over Horikawa. As she watched Hayama dribble the ball past his marker and score yet again, she felt a growing dread in the pit of her stomach.
Seijuro himself had seamlessly integrated into the team of legendary high school players whose skills rivalled the Teiko boys themselves. As the point guard, it was apparent that he was the undisputed leader on the court as well; his teammates undoubtedly trusted his abilities, and her years of being manager allowed her to see his exceptional ability to draw out each of their potentials by selecting the best possible play at any time.
The earlier exasperation she felt at his abrupt exit from their argument continued to simmer beneath her skin. And yet, mixed with her indignation was an irrepressible admiration of his grace and perfect rhythm, as he effortlessly dribbled the ball past a defender before passing it smoothly to Mibuchi. Around her, the members cheered at yet another three pointer that further widened the gap between their scores.
Although they were barely halfway through the first quarter, their coach called for a timeout, desperately hoping that they could turn the tides before the point disparity made it impossible to come back. The Rakuzan team was in high spirits, as they grabbed their water bottles and gathered in a circle around Shirogane sensei to be briefed on their game plan. In contrast, Horikawa's team was understandably despondent. Although Rakuzan was a known powerhouse and reigning champion of the Interhigh and Winter Cup in past years, they had never been stronger than they were now with Seijuro at its helm.
The whistle sounded to signal the resumption of the first quarter. A loud cheer echoed through the gym from the Horikawa team, and they entered the court once more, with their shoulders squared and their faces set. Despite their valiant efforts to lift their spirits, the remaining forty minutes raced by with Eru feeling an undefined blend of pride and déjà vu. Sometime in the third quarter, when there was a despairing gap of fifty points and no remaining time-outs, the boys from Horikawa began making inexcusable mistakes for a team of their ranking: holding the ball in their hands for too long and making clumsy passes. It pained her to see the defeated faces on the Horikawa team, that bore an uncanny resemblance to the opponents Teiko had faced during their championship games.
Still, the pressure exerted by the Rakuzan players was something to behold. While the uncrowned kings certainly deserved their moniker, Seijuro manoeuvred across the court the same way he played shogi – consistently twenty steps ahead and capitalising on even the slightest mistake. She watched, transfixed, as he timed his dribbling perfectly to ankle break his opponent before making a seamless lay-up. Even from afar, she could feel the intensity of his focus on the match, and she could not avoid the slight tug in her chest of something that felt a bit like fascination.
She jolted in her seat as soon as that thought flitted across her mind. It would be incredibly untimely to find herself constantly distracted by him now. And yet, it was like the tiny realisation of growing feelings towards him had flipped a switch inside her, and now all she could really focus on was him. Pressing her palms to her temples in a feeble attempt to redirect her thoughts, she turned back to the game, only to realise that the teams were already lined up facing one another with a final score of 122 to 57.
A rousing cheer sounded from all around her, filled with pride that their team had stayed true to their motto and secured such a decisive victory. She remained silent, feeling guilty that their members were totally oblivious to the dispirited slump in the shoulders of the opponents.
Once Horikawa had departed, the regulars made their way to the bleachers, where they were immediately surrounded. It was apparent that any lingering doubts about Seijuro being a first year had dissipated after his dominating performance. No one who watched that game would dare to question his right to captaincy. Through the crowd, she felt his gaze settle on her. His expression was unreadable, and she quickly averted her eyes when she felt heat rising to her cheeks.
It felt like ages before the boys finally dispersed to continue their training regime. Then, it was just her, the regulars, and a few stray members who were unashamedly dawdling to reduce their practice time. Sensing the tension between them, Mibuchi whispered loudly, "Let's go over there," and ushered the others to the far side of the bleachers.
Unwilling to break the silence first, she held Seijuro's gaze with an air of expectation – after all, if he had been the one to end their conversation to abruptly, he should also be responsible for picking up where they left off. He opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated as though he was unsure how to begin.
"You stayed to watch the game." In his voice was a mix of relief and surprise, like he genuinely believed she might have left.
"If you thought I would leave, then you don't know me at all." As soon as the words left her, she felt a tinge of regret, especially when she saw a flicker of hurt cross his face. She had not intended on them being so cutting.
"I shouldn't have left in the middle of our conversation." He took a step closer to her, slowly, to gauge her reaction.
"Yeah, you shouldn't have," she agreed.
"I shouldn't have made such accusatory statements." He was standing right in front of her, with barely an inch separating them; it had not even crossed her mind to move away.
Eru shook her head. "You shouldn't have," she agreed again, her voice softer this time, tampered by the apology weaved into his words. "So why did you say it?"
"You were deliberately avoiding me." He looked conflicted. "And yet, you were happy to spend time with him."
"That's –"
"Is it not true?"
The words she was going to use to defend herself deserted her, when Eru heard the confusion beneath his questioning. The lapse in response on her part prompted Seijuro to continue, "Were you displeased that I removed those boys from the team? You know that I do not make decisions on a whim. They deserved the punishment they received for their actions."
"It was cruel."
"They were cruel to you."
"There were better ways to deal with them that wouldn't affect their entire high school experience."
"Perhaps they should have thought twice before cornering you," he said, with a tone of finality. "Regardless, the most salient issue is that you should have told me if you were displeased with that."
He was right; she really should have. But how could she put into words the turmoil she had been feeling about his unnecessary cruelty and her desire for him to return to the person he used to be?
"I wasn't displeased," she finally responded. "I just… couldn't believe you did that. I felt like I didn't recognise you." Tears began to prick at the corners of her eyes. "How could I tell you that you looked like a completely different person to me then?"
At such close proximity, she felt, rather than saw, his whole body tense. "That was me."
"It was. I know that now." Her cheeks were starting to hurt from the strain of holding back her tears.
"Why did you go to him?"
"Because Igarashi-kun's my friend." When Eru glanced up to see his response, his jaw was set, and his eyes were hard – filled with what she decided was jealousy. "I'm entitled to have other friends, you know. You don't have ownership of me."
"It doesn't matter if you have other friends. There was something bothering you last week, and you didn't give me a chance to help you." Warm hands applied a light pressure on both of her arms. "You let him help you, but not me." For a moment, she almost forgot how to breathe. The emotion in his voice that she had mistaken for jealousy was now apparent: it was the fear that she was leaving him behind.
"I didn't want to keep it from you." It was true; she wished for him to just know all the pain bundled that was inside her, without having to find a way to verbalise it. "You're special to me." She was crying now, but her uncharacteristically bold admission caused her cheeks to flare up all the same. There was an ache in her chest, caused by the realisation that Seijuro had never understood the depth of his importance to her. She had always assumed that he knew.
Then, the grip on her arms tightened, and she found herself being pulled towards his body. The arms that encircled her frame were strong and familiar, supporting her in the same way that he had all these years. Unbidden, her heart stuttered; the heat in her cheeks showed no signs of fading any time soon.
"I missed this," she said suddenly. "I missed us." Although he did not reply, the tightening of his hold around her expressed all the feelings he struggled to verbalise. When he finally pulled away, and his heterochromatic eyes settled on her, she was filled with a sense of certainty that the space he had carved in her heart would always be reserved for him, whether or not he returned to how he was before.
Their moment was interrupted by a mischievously drawn-out whistle, followed by a chorus of stifled laughter. Startled, Eru stumbled a few steps back to create some distance between them. Without turning around, Seijuro called out, "Kotaro, I hope you will find your training regime being doubled equally funny."
Hearing his flustered splutter, she began to giggle. The tiny smile that spread across his face remained there, even as the rest of the team gathered around him to plead Hayama's innocence. With much of the weight she had been carrying now lifted off her shoulders, she settled back down onto the bench until the end of practice.
When the members finally began streaming out of the gym, Seijuro made his way over to where she was seated. "Are you ready to leave?"
"Yeah, in a second," she nodded. He waited patiently for her to finish packing up the notes that she was using to study, before extricating the bookbag from her arms.
The way they fell into step alongside each other was if nothing had changed between them in the past two weeks, but the lightness in her chest was a testament to the contrary.
"By the way," she began, the corners of her mouth quirking upwards. "Everyone played brilliantly today. And you were amazing to watch."
"Well, of course. It is only natural." Seijuro replied evenly. Eru turned to him, ready to remark on about his superiority, when she saw the tips of ears darken into the same shade as his hair. She quickly looked away to hide her smile. "Thank you for coming to practice."
"I wouldn't have missed it." She looped her arm through his. "You'll make a great captain. I don't think there's anyone who questions your ability anymore."
He gazed at her with an expression that could only be described as fondness. But any response that he had been meaning to give her was interrupted by the train rumbling into the open-air platform, before coming to a screeching halt.
Once they had found a fairly empty seats carriage on the train, she sunk down onto the seat, feeling her tiredness finally catch up with her. Beside her, Seijuro followed suit, albeit more gracefully. The gentle vibration of the train threatened to lull her to sleep; already, her eyelids were growing heavy. He guided her head to rest on his shoulder, triggering a spark of warmth in her chest, even as her eyes slipped shut.
"It is worth it," he said, so quietly that she would never have caught it if she was any further away.
"What is?" With great effort, she managed to crack an eye open.
He started, apparently unaware that he had spoken aloud. Even after recomposing himself, Seijuro remained silent; his hesitation to elaborate emanated off him in waves. Just as she decided not to press the issue any further, he took a breath, "My father is in Kyoto."
Oh. The added pressure he was likely experiencing now that Akashi Masaomi was around, was something she could strongly empathise with.
"Is he disapproving of your involvement in the basketball club?" She asked carefully, shifting herself upright. Her own mother never missed an opportunity to discourage her participation in club activities.
"That would be an understatement," he laughed mirthlessly. "But it isn't something you need to concern yourself with." He reached for her hand and squeezed it once, reassuringly, before releasing it.
The train rolled into the platform, and the doors slid open to the cheerful announcement of her station. She rose from her seat, straightened her skirt, and extended her hand expectantly to Seijuro. After gathering their bookbags, he stood himself. Seeing her outstretched hand, a look of confusion crossed his face before he slowly moved his hand to cover hers.
"Give me my bookbag, Seijuro," she laughed, although her cheeks were undoubtedly a tell-tale shade of pink.
The speed that he withdrew his hand from hers, was as though he had touched an open flame. "I will carry it. Let's go."
Still giggling, she followed after his quickened footsteps, all the while trying to steady the incessant fluttering in her chest. By the time she caught up to him, he had schooled his features into a neutral expression. After they exited the station, she linked their arms together again – an olive branch to tide over his earlier embarrassment. Although his face gave nothing away, she could identify a distinct absence of tension in his posture.
Against the backdrop of the golden sun, he looked ethereal; his hair was crimson like fire, and his eyes reflected the radiant glow. She swallowed a lump in her throat and forced herself to look away before he caught her staring. The peaceful silence that stretched between them prompted memories of their leisurely walks home over the years: the thoughtful conversations, the tightening of scarves and offering of coats, the matching of paces, and at the centre of it all, an ever-present emotion too profound to be captured by simple words.
"I want it to concern me," she started, decisive, but unsure at the same time. "If you would allow it. And I'll always be here when you need it."
Without her realising, the arm that had been looped around his had fallen loosely by her side, allowing their knuckles to brush lightly against one another. Then, with a great degree of hesitation, she summoned the courage to slip her hand into his. For a terrifying moment, he did not react, and it took all her willpower to quell the growing anxiety toward her incredibly daft decision. A beat later, she felt her fingers being nudged apart, before he slotted his own between the spaces to intertwine their hands together.
When he looked down at her, his face illuminated by the myriad of hues painted in the skies behind him, and his eyes softer than she had ever seen them, she realised that there was no decision for her to make after all – she was always going to choose him.
