A/N: Thank you so much for all the reviews, follows, and faves! You guys are awesome, really. Now that the prologue-ish chapters are finished, we'll start taking things slow(er). This was supposedly a long-ass chapter of around eighteen to twenty pages (whoops), but I decided to cut it in half to make things less overwhelming. Unbeta-ed version, so pardon the lapses in grammar and etc. I might have overlooked.
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Kikuchii has had the same routine since junior high.
Every day, she would go straight home after an hour-and-a-half of commute from school and arrive just in time for early supper. Nana would prepare a light-flavored meal, usually consisting of steamed fish and miso soup, and serve her a bowl of fruits for dessert. It was a dinner staple. Her mother had long imposed on this type of strict diet, and it was something Kikuchii had grown accustomed to while growing up.
After supper with her mother and Nana, Kikuchii would slink into her spacious bathroom and indulge in a warm bubble bath, which Nana had prepared for her beforehand, until she was noticeably waterlogged. The rest of the evening, she would coop up in her room with the air-conditioning at full blast, either poring over a foreign novel as language practice, redecorating her wall with her stack of photos, or completing her school work. By ten-thirty, she was under the covers, fast-asleep.
Ever since she had resolved to involve herself in more friendships, however—in this case, joining the school newspaper—there were adjustments to this routine. Instead of going straight home after class, she would hang around the courts a little later to take photos of the tennis team's preparations, or sometimes drop by the local camera store a few stations from her home, to either have her Nikon D3300 cleaned or collect the photos she had developed. It was a welcome change, even if she had to give up a few things in the process. Though sleep had previously been a non-negotiable—she had to have at least eight hours of sleep to function optimally—lately, she was willing to sacrifice an hour or two to keep up with the academic rigor Rikkaidai prided itself in. The midterms were fast-approaching, and she's been spending most of her time studying until the wee hours of the morning.
After solving the last wall of trigonometry equations in their problem set, she dove for her duvet, enjoying the warmth of her comforter and the fort of pillows and stuff toys surrounding her. It was one in the morning then, several hours past her usual bedtime, so it was no surprise that the moment her head hit the pillow, sleep had quickly descended upon her.
She woke up at precisely six the next morning, an hour later than usual.
She had apparently forgotten to set her alarm, which expectedly set her into frenzied preparation for school.
Unfortunately, an hour made all the difference in a commuter's life. An hour lost meant she would have to fight tooth and nail with the rush hour crowd for a decent spot on the train; the crowd she was usually loathe to encounter and took the effort to avoid. As expected, the train was swamped by the time she got on, and she had to mentally fortify herself against the warmth and heady mixture of perfume and perspiration from the morning commuters .
She let out a breath when the doors slid open to her station.
With a small frown, she combed her fingers through her long, black tresses, pulling and tugging at it as she bunched it together into a high ponytail, so as to worry less about the stray strands and tangles. She could feel the beads of sweat trickling down her nape and the sides of her torso, which she pointedly ignored for the time being, as she brisk-walked past the school athletes all ambling towards the Rikkaidai gates.
No single tennis club member was among them because tennis practice had started an hour ago.
She was late.
Adjusting the strap of her camera bag, she picked up her pace along the pathways leading to the tennis courts. The sounds of heavy grunts and the distinct pok of the tennis ball greeted her upon entrance. She hastily made her way up the bleachers to set up, resisting the urge to scan the courts and look for a particular shade of bubblegum red in the sea of boring browns and blacks, lest she tripped.
Kikuchii was by no means athletic—she was mediocre at best in Rikkaidai standards—but she had a decent sense of balance. With the bulky camera in hand, she traipsed on the topmost part of the bleachers and took shots of what was left of training. She leaned back, clicked the shutter, and assessed the shot. Having been accustomed to the task of covering tennis practice, she was already well aware of the proper timing and angles which would yield the best pictures.
The next few minutes was a fluid series of movements, the sound of her camera shutter—click, click—the only thing resounding in the distant quiet.
A flash of bubblegum red appeared on screen.
Kikuchii steadied the sudden tremor in her hands when she caught sight of Marui from a distance, dutifully taking the shot as he dashed towards the net and hit a perfect volley. His expression blazed with triumph when he finally brought an end to the rally and won the practice match.
She felt her heart swoop down to her stomach at the familiar sight, the bubble of apprehension expanding in her chest.
She was afraid; afraid that if by some weird impulse or force of habit his head swiveled towards her general direction, the corners of his mouth would drop seamlessly at the sight of her. She honestly didn't know what she would do if that happened.
Ten-meters away from where she stood, Marui turned towards her.
Her breath hitched, and in a moment of mindless panic, she hastily stepped down from her spot on the topmost bleachers and lost her footing.
Everything happened so quickly that she barely registered the arm that wrapped around her shoulder and gently lifted her from her undignified sprawl on the ground. There was a sting on her chin, and brushing her fingers over the area, she stiffened at the sight of blood dripping from her fingertips. Dropping her fist to the side, she also noticed the gashes on her knees caked in mud and blood.
Oh, God.
She just toppled gracelessly off the bleachers and made a complete joke out of herself, didn't she?
Suddenly hyper-aware of the lean muscle supporting her weight, she looked up, and came face-to-face with a tall, bespectacled brunet who murmured what sounded like an introduction ("Yagyuu Hiroshi from I-A," he said), but she was still too shaken (and a tad disappointed that it wasn't a certain red-head who came to her rescue) to respond that she could only allow herself to be seated on the bottom bleacher where Yagyuu immediately began tending to her wounds.
All the while, she refused to let her gaze wander off her shoes, positively mortified that she had caused a scene in the tennis courts, out of all places.
("You klutz," she berated herself.)
Her camera suddenly appeared in her line of sight, and was carefully deposited on her lap. Looking up, she noticed Niou standing by her side, his expression bordering between entertained and concerned. When she didn't have the courage to speak, he wordlessly and playfully tugged at her messy ponytail, which could easily be mistaken as an odd way to reassure her, before he ambled back towards the courts where a small crowd had already formed. Her head snapped back down towards the camera on her lap when it dawned that they were probably talking about her. The sinking sensation in her stomach was only magnified when she assessed the damage in her camera for the first time.
She bit her lip—
a flash of red crossed her periphery
—and stifled a soft sob.
Yagyuu eased the pressure of the cotton swab on her chin, and reassured her.
"It stings a bit, but it'll get better."
Kikuchii could only manage a nod, hoping his innocuous statement would ring true for everything.
. . .
The sound of the lunch bell reverberated off the walls of the classrooms, and like a fast-approaching downpour, the soft chatter eventually escalated into full-blown conversations and hearty laughter. Groups of students streamed out of the door and headed to the cafeteria, whereas those who chose to stay behind with their packed lunch had already dragged and arranged their desks into their designated circles.
Kikuchii sat with the usual group of female classmates, sitting in a half-arc around her desk and excitedly chattering about a wide array of topics; the upcoming fall fashion, the handsome captain from Hyoutei Gakuen who Sanada barely defeated in the semi-finals round of the Nationals, the newly-opened cake shop near the train station, and whether they should drop by after school or not.
It was the type of conversation Kikuchii could easily have participated in had she tried hard enough, but alas, she did not have the heart to include herself into this particular crowd this time around; even if at some point she had become the subject of discussion when the group finally had the courage to point out Kikuchii's bandaged chin and knees, and as a consequence, bring up the small accident in the tennis courts earlier that morning ("…lucky Yagyuu was there to help patch you up. Even if we'll have to start covering up because of the cold, you really don't want your legs to scar, Kikuchii. Your legs are killer," Amane exclaimed and turned to her, to which Kikuchii gave a half-hearted smile.)
What loud snippets of conversations she usually would have paid close attention to was nothing but white noise against the loud thoughts buzzing in her head all morning. It was only at this point, as she was suddenly reminded of how embarrassing it was to have been found in an awkward tangle of limbs at the bottom of the bleachers, did Kikuchi finally admit to having a horrible day.
Her eyes momentarily darted towards the doorway, then to the other occupants of the room. When Amane's blonde hair was the only thing that popped out of the boring sea of brown and blacks, she eventually dropped her gaze back to the glossy black bento box on her table. She was loathe to admit that even Nana's glorious braised beef, which was a delicious mix of sweet and salty, could not ease the sinking sensation in her stomach.
It has been two weeks since Marui showed up in her classroom.
"Okay, that's enough moping."
Kikuchii was startled to see Amane standing by her desk. Looking around, she noticed the rest of her peers were nowhere to be found, except for a pair of male classmates who sat in a corner of the room and openly ogled Amane. She was not surprised to see her friend unfazed by the attention; the other girl was probably already used to the stares. Amane was buxom and loud, so she easily stood out. Studying her friend up-close, Kikuchii could easily see why she was popular.
Her friend's hair, which according to her was the trendiest shade of blonde, was tied up in a tight bun, and her bangs, which usually fell atop her brows, was pushed back by a huge headband so that no stray strand blocked her pretty face from view. Kikuchii then became all too aware of the blaze of concern in her striking hazel eyes, enhanced by the thin layer of ink lining her upper eyelid. Make-up was strictly prohibited in school, but Amane always managed to slip past the dress code, which Kikuchii secretly admired her for. It took guts to do something like that.
"Did Takahashi tease you about Pokemon again?"
That snapped her out of her thoughts. Kikuchii shook her head, her lips finally curling upward into a soft smile. "I thought we weren't going to mention that incident again."
"Hey, I only brought it up because I was ready to fight for your honor," Amane retorted and plopped down on Niou's vacant seat next to hers. Kikuchii noticed the blonde had her pen and notebook laid out on Niou's desk, the pages glaringly blank. Amane followed her gaze, and smiled sheepishly. "Yeah, about that... I was wondering if you would let me take a peek at your trig homework."
Kikuchii immediately fished for her math notebook in her bag, then handed it over to her friend without a fuss.
"Did I ever tell you I love you?" The blonde beamed when Kikuchii looked flustered, and then proceeded with copying her friend's solutions. "So what's really bugging you?"
Kikuchi played with the end of her ponytail, her eyes decidedly pinned on the camera on her desk. Her shoulders slumped as she stared at the long, zigzag crack marring the lens of her Nikon D3300—it was a present from her parents last Christmas, and she could remember how positively ecstatic she had been when the once sleek device fit perfectly in the cavern of her small hands.
"I know about what happened this morning," the blonde interjected, eyeing the device. "But you've been looking like someone died all week, so it made me wonder whether there was something more going on."
Kikuchii opened her mouth, about to protest, but closed it again.
"Don't think I haven't noticed you glancing at the door every time lunch comes around." Amane smirked as she momentarily ceased her scribbling to glance at her. "It's Marui, isn't it?"
Kikuchii fidgeted in her seat.
"Thought so." Amane's smile morphed into a triumphant grin. "Spill."
Admittedly, Kikuchii was hesitant to talk to Amane about Marui because the blonde was notorious for being the biggest gossip in the freshmen's side of Rikkaidai. The last thing Kikuchii wanted was to be pestered about what happened, not only because it meant she would have to deal with strangers prying into her life, but because spreading the news around might only put a bigger wedge between the red-head and her.
Her gaze darted towards Amane. Had it been any other juicy piece of news, she knew the blonde would have stared at her like she was about to reveal the winning numbers in that day's lottery, but judging by the unapologetic downward furrow of Amane's penciled eyebrows, she could tell her friend was undoubtedly concerned about her. Kikuchii was suddenly reminded of the start of the school year when the blonde had gone out of her way to ask the new girl if she wanted some strawberry milk. It was the start of a blossoming, albeit slightly awkward, friendship. The rest was history.
"Hello? Earth to Kikuchii?" Amane waved a hand in front of her face.
Kikuchii suddenly felt bad for doubting her friend's good intentions. With her mind made up, she inched her desk towards her Amane and told her everything. At first, Amane was positively giddy, affirming Marui's intentions while throwing her teasing grins in the process. It was only when Kikuchii dropped the bomb that Amane's joshing expression mellowed into a rare look of thoughtfulness.
"I'm surprised, actually," Amane's tone was wistful, with no trace of judgment laced in her words. "I've been under the impression you liked him."
"I do like him," was her quick reply. There was a pause, as she carefully picked her words. "But I think it's a different 'like' from what Marui-san had in mind."
"Ah," was Amane's simple interjection, as though she now had a full understanding of what was happening. "You haven't even dropped the suffix yet, and he thinks he could take the leap so early? What an idiot." The blonde must have seen something in her face because she quickly gave her reassurance. "Hey, don't let it bother you too much. You've done the right thing by refusing something that would have made you uncomfortable. If you're not ready, you're not ready." She patted her hand. "Rejecting someone takes courage. You've done well."
"I don't think he'd want to talk to me again after what happened," she mumbled, her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. "That's what I'm afraid of."
Amane was about to blurt something out, then backtracked and settled with, "Don't worry." She patted her hand again, more gently this time. "Just sit it out. He'll come around."
. . .
Kikuchii crouched and collected the two bottles of strawberry milk from the slot.
The cafeteria was busy. Rows of tables still teemed with students even if only a quarter of an hour of lunchtime was left. Amane usually offered to buy Kikuchii her post-meal craving—either strawberry pudding, milk, or a Rikkai melon bun—because it provided her plenty of opportunity to mingle with the other freshmen who usually had their lunch in the cafeteria, and Kikuchii was more than happy to relinquish the task to the blonde, given she usually had a book or pop-culture research to preoccupy herself with.
The only reason why Kikuchii had the good grace to pick up on Amane's job that day was because the blonde had yet to complete her Trigonometry homework. In an attempt to comfort her about what happened with Marui—as well as thank her for letting her copy her homework—she offered to pay for Kikuchii's milk. Amane had a dozen walls of equations to copy off of her, so Kikuchii volunteered to go to the cafeteria and buy the drinks.
As she walked past the long tables, Kikuchii's eyes scanned the crowd and hoped to see even a glimpse of the familiar shade of bubblegum red, but was gravely disappointed.
Admittedly, she wasn't prepared for any type of confrontation with Marui; she could imagine herself clamming up and running away if he would opt to drill her for an explanation. Her concern over the tennis regular mainly stemmed from her desire to know how he was faring. She wanted to see with her own eyes that he was his usual bubbly self that attracted people, like a moth to a flame. And that by some off-chance, even after what happened, he would still seek her out in the crowd and talk to her like they were old friends.
Because they were still that, weren't they?
Friends.
She stepped into the hallway leading to her classroom, where several students were milling about. When she saw the mop of platinum hair in the crowd, her heartbeat noticeably sped up, as she would always immediately associate Niou's presence with Marui's. Niou was leaning comfortably against the wall beside their door. There was no sign of the red-head, however; instead, it was the bespectacled brunet Yagyuu, the boy who helped her out earlier that morning, who was conversing with her classmate.
When Niou noticed her near, he acknowledged her with an imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth, which Yagyuu surprisingly picked up, and had caused him to look over his shoulder. The brunet blinked, then regarded her with a smile.
"Your pallor has improved," Yagyuu noted, pressing his glasses against the bridge of his nose. "How are you feeling?"
"Much better. Thank you." She dipped her head slightly, then smiled. "Your first aid really helped, Yagyuu-san."
"I'm glad to hear that," Yagyuu tipped his head in the same manner and mirrored her soft smile.
From the corner of her eye, she noticed Niou assessing her quietly. He was partially blocking the doorway, and as Kikuchii turned to his direction, she let her eyes briefly wander inside her classroom—or what view she could see from her angle, anyway—checking to see if there was a shade of red somewhere in the crowd.
"He's not here." There was a ghost of an amused smile tugging at Niou's lips. "He's down the hall in his classroom."
She flushed.
Yagyuu watched the exchange with polite interest, but did not say anything, to her relief.
"I see." She sounded bolder than she felt that she had to give herself a mental pat on the back.
Niou continued to look amused as he watched her with that piercing gaze of his, as though he had already mapped out all her possible reactions and was merely waiting for her to do exactly as he had predicted. She hated it when her classmate did that; it felt as if she was being subjected to an x-ray. With only one look, it was as if he could read all her thoughts and feelings, no matter how intent she was to put up walls in his presence.
The thought of Niou deconstructing all those barricades perturbed her more than it should.
At that moment, as Niou showed no signs of moving from his spot by the doorway, she was given the impression that he was purposely egging her to make a choice. She seemed to have two obvious options: either she tell him to move, and in turn, prolong this cold war with Marui, or wave the white flag and go to Marui herself.
Either she make the first move or run away, with her tail tucked under her.
"He'll come around." Amane's voice echoed in her head.
"Excuse me, Niou-san," she whispered, tearing her eyes from Niou's and tightening her hold on the pair of milk bottles against her chest.
She ignored the stone at the pit of her stomach when she glimpsed a flash of what looked like disappointment in Niou's eyes as he stepped aside to let her pass.
. . .
She had her chance encounter with Marui by the shoe cubicles.
The dismissal bell had just rung, and she managed to evade Amane's invitation to go to a group date with other girls from her class ("My friend promised to bring hot guys from the university. You'll never know, you might pick up a thing or two from your date," Amane joked, wagging her perfectly plucked eyebrows) by saying she had to visit the local camera store to get her lens checked by a professional. To her surprise, Amane easily let her go. Kikuchii knew it was out of habit Amane extended an invitation to one of her escapades, and out of kindness that the blonde left her to wallow by herself for a while.
Thus, Kikuchii was left to her own devices come dismissal. When she entered the school's entryway, she immediately spotted the crown of bright red hair in the crowd.
Marui was leaning against one of the cubicles and nonchalantly chewing his gum as he conversed with his half-Brazilian doubles-partner, Jackal, who stood a few inches taller than him. They were presently engaged in a heated conversation, seemingly oblivious to all the movement and activity.
Her feet remained rooted on the linoleum tiles of the room as the stream of students all headed to either their club activities or straight home, sidestepping around her and ultimately drowning out her presence. The crowd was a good cover and presumable blocked her from his line of vision. She patiently waited for the pair to get a move on and leave. It was a thing of bad luck, she supposed, that her cubicle was right across Jackal's, but at the rate their conversation was going, they probably would not have noticed her if she trudged forward. Regardless, Kikuchii could not help but be anxious, anyway.
She knew the best way to put an end to her loop of worrisome thoughts was to walk right up to Marui and talk to him, but she really didn't think she could stand the confirmation of Marui being mad at her.
She even had to sport an injury because of her cowardice.
Before she could make up her mind about the matter, however, she felt her breath knocked out of her when she was suddenly knocked forward and lost her balance. She winced at the pain as her knees came in contact with the hard tiles of the floor.
"Oh my God! Are you alright?"
She looked up, and saw a girl stare down at her with warm brown eyes which vaguely reminded her of chocolate. Her glossed lips were pulled into a frown, and her eyebrows were furrowed with concern. A lock of shoulder-length hair, which was the same shade as her eyes, fell over her shoulder as she extended her arm towards her and helped her up.
It took Kikuchii a while to realize that she had yet to respond.
"I'm fine," she uttered, and offered the girl a small smile.
The brunette exhaled the breath she seemed to have been holding. "That's good," she remarked, smiling. Her white teeth were perfectly straight. Kikuchii thought she had a very pretty smile. Assured she was alright, the girl then bent over and began collecting the notebooks and pens that had spilled out of Kikuchii's bag and now strewn haphazardly all over the floor.
"I'm so sorry, I was in a hurry and wasn't looking where I was going." The brunette looked contrite as she handed her her belongings. "God, I can be such a klutz sometimes. I'm a disgrace to the squad."
"No, it's completely my fault," Kikuchii countered, wondering whether "squad" meant the girl was a member of the cheerleading squad as she slipped her paraphernalia inside her bag. "I shouldn't have been blocking the way in the first place."
The brunette grinned. "Okay, so maybe you're partially to blame." Kikuchii flushed and mumbled another apology, which only caused the brunette to laugh. "I was joking." She tapped the side of Kikuchii's arm in a friendly, assuring manner. "Either way, I almost plowed you down, for Christ's sake. I really am sorry."
After an awkward pause, the brunette finally excused herself. It shouldn't have come as a complete shock when the girl sauntered off to meet Marui, who perked up at her appearance and seemed to have been waiting for her arrival, all this time.
Kikuchii could only watch the pair (and Jackal) walk towards the exit, ignoring the heaviness in her gut when Marui burst into a fit of raucous laughter and the girl smiled brightly in response, as though making Marui laugh came as naturally as breathing to her.
.
.
.
It was one o'clock in the morning, but sleep evaded Kikuchii like the plague.
Her back was against the side of her bed, where her broken camera currently lay. She gazed up at the hundreds of photographs plastered on the white-washed wall across her room. Snaps of breathtaking fields of flowers, majestic temples, and snowy mountain tops filled most of the space, but her eyes were glued to a group of newly-developed photos she had just finished pinning—an impressive display of swords, oil paintings of dead historical figures, and a particular group photo, where a familiar mop of red hair came into view.
It was supposedly a class photo, but Marui had pigheadedly wedged himself between Niou and Sanada when the class was ordered to arrange themselves for the shoot. Niou's expression was indecipherable as Marui slung an arm around his shoulder. Sanada's signature frown was plastered on his face as he crossed his arms, possibly irate that Marui had strayed away from his own class all afternoon and was unabashedly crashing in in another class' photoshoot. On the other hand, Marui, who stood directly behind her, looked content, his smile more radiant than usual.
Right after that photo was taken, the red-head asked her if they could walk to the station together.
She said yes, and everything went downhill from there.
Mindlessly chewing her gum in contemplation, she wondered if the green apple flavor had always tasted this bitter.
After brushing her teeth and tucking her candy jar at the back of her closet, away from her mother's prying eyes, her gaze fell upon an organized poutpouri of things partially hidden by a pile of shirts—a stack of manga and CDs she had yet to return and the small boxes of bubblegum—before she finally shut her cabinet closed.
She's had too many packs recently.
As she lay in bed that night and stared at the crack on her lens in hopes of depressing herself to sleep, she decided she would have to try harder if she didn't want to lose him.
.
.
.
Her golden ticket came in the form of coupons from her father the next morning. They were coupons to the newly-opened cake shop a few blocks away from Rikkaidai—it was the very same shop her female classmates had talked about the previous day. Apparently, they were free tokens her father received from one of his more affluent and well-connected students. Her father had never been particularly fond of sweets, and thinking the unused tickets a waste, he had requested Nana to pass them onto her before he headed off to an early conference at the university. Nana had to ambush her by the receiving area that morning so that her mother wouldn't know about it.
As she slipped into the Rikkaidai entryway an hour before homeroom, Kikuchii stared at the pair of tickets in her hand, and wondered whether she would have the opportunity to ask Marui. She had yet to gather the courage to talk to him, anyway, so perhaps not bumping into him so soon was to her advantage.
When she turned the corner and entered the freshmen hallway, she visibly froze in her tracks upon seeing the very guy walking towards her general direction. Marui's gait was unhurried and his arms were folded behind his head as he conversed with Jackal; he had yet to notice her by the corner, but he was quickly sealing the distance between them.
She could feel heart hammering against her chest as she watched Marui's head slowly turn towards her.
His eyes widened a fraction, uncertainty flashing in his brown pools, before his expression hardened and his head snapped back towards Jackal, who remained oblivious to the tiny exchange.
Marui's steps were measured when he walked past her, as though he had never known her at all.
TBC
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A/N: What is this brewing druhmuh! Anyways, I know it's been a year, and I do apologize for the wait. Hopefully, this chapter would make up for it. Do tell me what you think? If you had been in Marui's place, being friendzoned and all, how would you react? Next chapter would be up soon! Fingers crossed.