Redheads & Root Beer

Reason #4 – What can't help you won't kill you either. Be thankful for it.

Time in its essence was like both water and wax. School hours, lessons, classes, lectures, the glimpses of Mitsui walking along the hallways few and far in between, each minute folding over the other and streaming away down the null void of things she would soon forget to remember. The hours spent at training were slightly better. At least the river of seconds seemed to tick along faster, almost as if it was racing to match the tempo of every dribble, shoot and pass on-court.

But somehow, each sight of him she managed to catch in her net for each afternoon she spent for the team, cheering them on and supervising their drills, was never quite enough. Each glance she stole away from the minutes accumulating on her stopwatch, just in time to see him score another three points or slap his team-mate a high-five with that smirk of his, would slip through her memories no better than raindrops over fresh leaves in spring.

No matter how much she tried to hold on to them, the images would fall through her grasp and collect in the pool inside her.

When practice was over and the breathless, but no less enthusiastic, vote of thanks for Anzai-sensei's presence echoed off gym walls, Ayako found time congealing to the thickness of monotony. Miuradai was still a day ahead and she also had yet to catch up on the realization that her year of sweet sixteen would be officially over on the same date.

Time was both water and wax. Formless and colorless when it flew, hard and tough to scrape off when it ceased to do so.

Ayako often had a few minutes to spare every now and then ever since Haruko had been appointed her assistant and hence, Sakuragi's official retraining supervisor (an arrangement that had rendered the Tensai a grinning menace for days after its announcement). However, a slight slip in Physics grades had seen to it that the younger girl was occupied with extra studying for today, leaving Ayako to navigate through the mass of sweaty limbs and testosterone alone. Not that she wasn't an old pro at the job in the first place to begin with.

"Aya-chan, Aya-chan!"

She looked up over the figures lining the sheet on her clipboard. Ryota Miyagi, although an inch or two taller than her, would always remind her of one of those adorably huggable puppies in the Japanese-dubbed kids' movies they aired on Christmas with his wide eyes and hopeful smiles. Maybe all he needed was someone to take him home and give him a ball to fetch. Ayako fought the outright laughter threatening to burst from her mouth at the image. She succeeded at keeping it to a smile.

"What did you think of the strategy outlines I drew up? D'you think they'll work against Miuradai? Or maybe I could change them… you know, tweak some positions here and there…"

"Woah there!" She raised her hand, signaling him to stop. Ayako had found out on many an occasion that the only thing that moved faster than Shohoku's Captain was his own mouth. "Calm down. I looked over them during lunch…"

The puppy eyes were back. She considered it a wonder that Ryota had fewer fan-girls than Rukawa or Mitsui. He'd certainly make for cuter plushie inspirations.

"… And?" He practically choked out.

"And they were good. Real good."

It was almost like a chorus of angels would sound out at the expression of sheer relief which alighted on his face. Coupled with the puppy-dog metaphors and the depth of their friendship, Ayako wanted to laugh again. Laugh so hard that she would remember why she wanted to forget something (someone) so badly.

"Man, thanks, Aya-chan! You almost scared me there with that look on your face."

"That look?"

"Yeah, you seemed a little bummed out for a while there. I was wondering if…" Ryota meandered along, tripping about on a few stubborn words before a sudden thunderclap of realization appeared to strike some part of his conscious. "Ah! It's because Sensei told you off in class because I passed you the strategy plans then! Oh man, I'm so sorry, Aya-chan! I didn't mean to get you into trouble. I shall go and confess to her tomorrow that it was – "

"Ryota!"

"But I ruined your spotless record." He offered, half apologetically, the other half in confusion.

Ayako sighed, tipping her cap forward and hoping it would hide her frown. Honestly, were all guys this dense?

"It's been a long day, Ryota. I'm just a little tired, that's all…"

For a second, she thought he might make things worse by asking her if she was alright and whether he ought to get her some pills from the nurse or something just as useless. But he remained standing, quiet, and almost… thoughtful in a way that made him look more like the leader he was chosen to be, rather than the wild youth from a year back.

"Yeah, I guess I understand. What with all the work and the tests they've been giving us as well…"

The anger broke, brief as it was. He was just as stressed as she was, if not more. Ryota had an entire team to carry forward and greater expectations than even Akagi had had to fulfill. Shohoku was no longer the smallest fish in the pond and they weren't expected to play as if they were. And here she was, pining just for a glance that probably would never come her way.

"I'm sorry, Ryota. For snapping at you, I mean. If anything, you have it harder than anyone else."

He smiled again, much to her relief, his cheeks covered with a faint blush. "Nah, no problems here. I don't even mind that we have more homework to do these days. Gives me a good workout when I have to carry a ton of books to and fro."

"Impressive. My shoulder still hurts from lugging that Economics text around in my bag all day. I'd hate to imagine carrying it all the way home." She winced at the thought as she bent to pick it up. Even the satchel's seams protested at the extra weight.

"Um, Aya-chan?"

She turned to face him once more. The red in his face had deepened.

"I could carry them. Your books, I mean."

And thus, awkwardness settled. One little pebble is all it takes to ruffle a surface that had appeared so calm.

"You would?"

"Yeah… it's not a problem…"

"Really, Ryota, I don't want to… you must be tired from all that running…"

"No! Not at all! I'm still just as pumped up as I was before practice. See – "

"Careful! Who said you could cartwheel?"

"Hehe, just making a point there…"

"You almost gave yourself a concussion! You can't possibly carry all those bags – "

"We could stop for a soda."

Phase two: the uncomfortable silence. Cue the unspoken stutters and sinking feelings.

"Um…"

"Ah…"

"That didn't come out quite as I…"

"I'm not sure…"

"Did someone say 'soda'?"

Ayako had never been this glad to see Sakuragi's red hair bloom into view. Like a rare type of unexpected mushroom. A particularly unappealing mushroom but welcome nonetheless.

"NYA-HAH! You guys were going out for soda without inviting me! Me! How could you share a soda without the Tensai?"

"The same reason we never invite you out for pizza. We always leave with our wallets emptier than when we started." Ryota replied dully.

"Why you puny – "

She had to take action. Now.

"He can come."

Two pairs of eyes widened simultaneously at her decision. One in surprise, the other in disbelief.

"Aya-chan, are you sure…"

"Why not? Sakuragi's made great progress in relearning his basics since his return. I think he could use a reward for his efforts. And," Taking great care not to let her eyes wander over to Mitsui's hastily retreating form at the main door, she began taking out the heaviest books from her bag. "He could help you carry these."

If Sakuragi had been a bird, Ayako would have been presented with the scene of a rooster puffing its chest out and scratching at the ground with its feet in pride. Given that they were but human, faults and all, she had to settle for the garrulous freshman lolloping over scattered bags, crowing about his victory while Ryota glowered.

The bottle was raised in iron-firm grip and tilted down into a thirsty mouth as soon as its tin-cap covering was pried open. Within mere seconds, maybe less, it was drained empty and slammed down to the wooden counter with a solid 'thunk'. For the sake of her worryingly slim purse, Ayako was glad the glass proved strong enough to withstand Sakuragi's roughhousing.

The redhead groaned with a satisfied exhale, rubbing circles into his belly. "Ahhh, feels much better."

"Hanamichi…" Brown eyes darting about for a target to spike, Ryota hit upon the very word as he stared at the five other empty bottles, once filled with fizzling root beer thick as molasses. "You're a pig."

"TEME!"

Over her own bottle, Ayako shot the pair a well-aimed glare, effectively diffusing the flames of discord to a less harmful spark. With Sakuragi inadvertently playing the buffer between her and Ryota, they could hopefully focus on the greater scheme of things where trivialities like puppy love and hangdog faces didn't have to matter.

Yes, she did feel like a hypocrite.

Walking home, the remaining rim of soda at the bottom of the glass leaped and skipped with each of her footfalls. Yet her thoughts wandered to the night, following the far-off roar of a motorcycle from a few blocks away, the boys' chatter reduced to static in its wake. What kind of music had Mitsui said he liked? Did he have a favorite band, a favorite idol taped to his wall? So many lost moments she had pushed aside for the slim chances of a passing sight…

"So, Aya-chan…"

She blinked and there they were, completely oblivious to the noise.

"Oh yeah, Ayako-san's birthday is on the same day as our match. No wonder Ryo-chin's been giving us too many drills and drawing up all those charts over his Math homework…"

Ryota's glare would most certainly have been followed up with a deft kick to Sakuragi's grinning face had her mental return trip to Earth and their conversation been any later. As much as she loved… enjoyed the company of her boys, liked being on the sidelines and watching over their antics with an indulgent air possessed by an amused older sister, they were such boys all the same. Delightful, wonderful, better than any brothers she could possibly have wished for, but such dear boys.

So she put on her brightest, most pleasing smile and tuned into the sunshine station. "Eh, don't worry about it, guys. But just because I'm not expecting any presents doesn't give you an excuse to slack off."

Sakuragi sniggered and Ryota looked absolutely mortified that she had dared to even think of such a grim event.

"No way! Leave it to the Genius himself! The Successor to Gori! The Layman's Champion! The Blazing Sensation That Shall Carry Shohoku's Victory To The Nationals Once Again, Hanamichi Saku – "

"So are you doing anything special for your birthday?" Ryota interrupted the speech to ask her, prompting a low snarl from the younger player.

"I don't think so. Well… Mum and Obaa-san might throw a special tea or something, just for the three of us at home. And Dad might call from Okinawa in the morning before school."

"Does he work there?"

"Kinda. He's stationed up north on the main island at the military base."

"Oh, I see. Aya-chan's father is in the army?"

"Yep. He was already a lieutenant when I was born."

"Military. That explains a lot." Sakuragi muttered to himself.

She chose to ignore that implication for the moment. They were now passing a street-sign, the white-lettered name taking on a ghostly gleam against its electric-blue background. Streetlights, incandescent and artificial, had a way with sketching their surroundings in both dark and pastel shades. The metallic clasp of her watch glowed silver as Ryota and Sakuragi almost blended into the shadows. Seeing them together always made her think of the long and short of everything. A lesson in opposites co-existing, each living by their own rules but with their shared harmony intact.

"Ryota, isn't this your neighborhood?"

As if waking up from a spell, the point guard raised his head and took in his surroundings in a long languid gaze. "Yeah. This is it."

"I'll see you tomorrow, you know."

The truth behind her words – if that was what it felt like – seemed to cheer him slightly as he left them at the sign, raising a waving hand to Ayako and a warning to Sakuragi ("Don't you dare oversleep tomorrow!").

Again, the notion of hypocrisy crept in, quelling the honesty she attempted in returning Ryota's goodbye and hardening the guilt-laced frustration knotting together in the pit of her stomach.

"Don't lead him on."

She was barely able to stop the startled gasp that would have erupted. Sakuragi edged his face around the pile of her books in his arms and repeated his words. "I'm telling you, don't lead him on. He's already been ditched ten times before."

"I know that! What makes you say that I'm… 'leading him on'?"

"If you don't like him that way, just say it!"

"I have! Once."

"Just one time won't fix what's been broken ten times. And besides that…" The redhead grunted as he hefted the weight to a more comfortable position. "… I've seen how you look at him during practice."

She froze.

"Who?"

"Him."

"How…"

"Jeez, Ayako-san, you gotta give me more credit. The Tensai notices things!"

The world didn't just stop. It must have imploded for the sole proof of intelligence discovered within the clownishly frightening recesses of the one-track mind of Hanamichi Sakuragi. The thought of it, the sheer idea of being found out struck her deep and hard. And by the village idiot, of all marauders. If Ryota's mouth was an electric motor running solo, Sakuragi's was a heaven-be-damned tank in comparison.

"You shouldn't be looking at him that way, Ayako-san. Think about it. You'd be feeding into his fan-club and it's growing bigger by the day or maybe by the second as we speak…"

Yes, she knew. But knowledge wasn't power in this case. More like pebbles, each little nugget of information rattling her head and spotting her vision.

"… and he's so damn overrated! I bet that the press will be referring to me as MVP before the season's over… okay, maybe not before but at least three days after…"

That was a bit harsh, as far as perceptions went. Mitsui's bravado had taken many a beating since his glory days at junior high but he would get back up. He was getting back up. She hoped that he…

"… besides, you're his sempai as well so…"

The gears in her head cracked forward.

"I'm… his sempai?"

"Duh! Don't tell me that stupid kitsune's turning your brains to mush too? Sheep eyes, Ayako-san, watch the sheep eyes." With that, the 'genius' completed his lecture with a well-timed waggle of his finger.

Barely a few seconds later, when her world had begun its usual revolution, Ayako had stalked off home and thanked the stars for the general uselessness of a man's talent at deduction while Sakuragi was left on the street, bemoaning the new lump on his forehead from where the Economics tome had struck him.

Never would he accuse a woman of wandering eyes. At least not one as indomitable as Ayako-san anyway.