Rain, Rain, Come Again?

Reason #6 – Even silver linings reflect the gold beneath

… What?

"So are you, Aya-chan."

In retrospect, it hadn't been the worst sort of confession to receive. Ayako had endured the brunt of many during her years at middle-school, three years flush with hormonal boys bent on curious exploration ("More like exploitation," her father had huffed). Ryota had once been one of those boys to her; dewy-eyed, sniveling after fourth-period Info Tech while promising that her rejection hadn't hurt that hard.

But that had been freshman year when they were all looking to be better than that. Ayako had set out to prove herself the best damn manager Shohoku's struggling basketball club would ever come across and Ryota too had had a point to prove. The two of them had begun from the bottom, determined to scrape whatever they could to grow towards their goals. He'd always made sure the seniors wouldn't rag on her and in turn, she'd helped him make the most of his sparse study-skills.

"You're the best, Aya-chan. You deserve it."

Should she be flattered, amused, thankful, irritated, indifferent? It was the same string of undertones that always got to her, least of all in the way Ryota intended. 'That poor, sweet boy', her grandmother would have dubbed him with a shake of her head and a toothy, secretive smile. 'At least he ought to receive points for perseverance. Does that count for anything in those silly ball-games they play?'

There had been plenty of time, plenty of the same blushing questions to contend with for her to construe the perfect reply.

"Um, Ryota…"

And all she could come up with was an adjunct.

"Ryota, about what you meant after…"

He looked at her that same way, caught between hope and a sigh. The party had ended a half-hour ago and they were walking the last few kilometers to her house alone (Sakuragi had conjured an appropriate enough excuse to walk Haruko home, much to Akagi's consternation). This was always the worst part. Surely, Ryota could have seen this coming, what with the history they shared. Was he this much of a masochist?

Ayako sighed. Here it goes again…

"I still can't thank you guys enough for what you did. Only two years as manager and… wow, I didn't see that coming."

"Of course. You're awesome and you should know it."

"Yeah," Her stomach clenched in guilt. "I'm glad you think so. More than glad, actually. You mean a lot to me as a friend, Ryota. I think you're pretty awesome yourself."

"So, is this when you're supposed to tell me that that's why I can't be more than just a 'friend'?" To his credit, he was smiling. Sadly, knowingly, but it was still a nice smile. "Man, I always thought I'd get used to hearing that…"

Ouch.

"Trust me, you won't be hearing it for too long. There must be girls lining halfway round the block just to get you to know their names. Give them a chance, for a change."

Ryota scratched the back of his head, his cheeks staining pink. "Gee, I don't know. Ten times is a hard number to live down."

"Last time I checked, there were more than ten girls attending Shohoku."

"And you're one in a million."

"So's the next girl."

"Woah, you're pushing it, huh?"

"If that's what it is." She allowed herself a chuckle. Ryota deserved a lot more credit than she gave him. He'd really learnt to take things in stride, regardless of how many dead ends he seemed to meet in the romance department. Maybe this captain thing was a role he could grow into further along the way. She'd like to see that. "Besides, what's to lose?"

"My pride, dignity, concentration, maybe a limb or two if Rukawa's fans are anything to judge by…"

"Ah, Ryota, you'll find a way. You always do."

He stopped in his tracks on realizing that she meant it. "… You think so?"

Ayako frowned. "Of course. I know so."

"… Seriously?"

"Ryota Miyagi, you're leading the second-ranked basketball team in Kanagawa, outpaced and outsmarted some of the tallest players I've seen, and beaten a couple of thugs hard enough to have them coming back to get you… okay, that last one's kinda dodgy but you have the rest to be proud of. You should be."

"Yeah, I guess." The blush on his face grew deeper into a vivid Shohoku red.

"You don't need a girl to make you feel on top of the world when you're already this close to having it at your feet."

"True, but…" Ryota gazed wistfully at the night clouds. Away from her. "It's not that I'm not happy with what I have. It'd just… be nice to have that something… someone extra. Just to complete it? You know, someone I could share that with, someone who could be happy for me too. And maybe I could be the one to make them happy if they wanted…"

She did know. As far as she could remember, she had hardly seen a tough-talking shooting guard smile that often off-court. Or even laugh out loud. A token smirk just wasn't the same.

"You'll meet someone, Ryota. It'd be hard not to with an attitude like that."

"Maybe I already have?" He added hopefully. She shook her head, grinning it off.

"Being your friend adds to my happiness. You need to find someone who'll guarantee that you can live even without that."

A horror-struck expression hit him so hard his jaw dropped and she choked on her laughter. "Seriously, Aya-chan? I'd never date a girl who'd make me give you up as a friend."

"Well, maybe not that extreme. But it'd be someone who'd love you enough to not have you make that choice."

A soft silence fell upon them as Ryota appeared to mull the idea over. She glanced up, hoping for snowflakes to weigh the quiet down with the sparkle of their descents. A little tremor had wormed its way into her thoughts as soon as she'd voiced them a second ago. Ayako didn't want to be a dead-weight between two friends. Rather, she didn't want what she and Ryota shared to be pulled apart by their feelings for any other that would show up on their paths, whether they diverged or not.

She didn't want the taint of a crush souring her relationship with Ryota, nor did she want an echo of those wavering feelings worming their way into what she could have with Mitsui. Whom she hadn't spoken to since except for the few words they'd shared about… nothing much. Way to go, girl. She really was no better than Ryota or Sakuragi.

Why bother with something which she wasn't even sure was worth chasing in the first place?

"Aya-chan?"

She awoke to find that they had reached the junction separating the main street from the footpath leading to Ryota's place. The 'poor, sweet boy' wasn't without a trace of that smile she'd seen before, with a trace of thoughtfulness curling the lips in their corners.

"See ya on Monday? You've sure given me a lot to think about."

"Don't I always? See you soon, Ryota. And thanks again!"

She waved to him until he finally disappeared away from the street-light glow.

Thinking back to the hurried scrap of conversation at their restaurant table, Mitsui's studious nonchalance towards her at the practices before that, his unexpected show of chivalry in the boys' locker-room and the ease with which their disdain over lesser problems had flowed through in their talk in the school hallway, Ayako wondered if the evening could have gone better than it had.

It was drizzling lightly when she first woke up the following weekend morning. Watching the raindrops stream down steadily to her window-sill, Ayako took it as a good omen. Rain was refreshing, it brought sustenance and relief. It washed all things clean. Lulled by the thought, she allowed herself to drift to sleep again. She got out of bed the second time she opened her eyes a few hours later.

Obaa-san was pottering around the edge of the garden when Ayako had made her way downstairs after showering and dressing. She liked to think her grandmother was pretty cool by most standards; old as she was, she cut quite a modern silhouette with the things that sprung from her mouth alone.

"Good morning, 'Baa-san."

"Good morning, Ayako. Your mother's gone to the post-office. She left breakfast for you in the kitchen." Obaa-san returned to the object of her present attention: a stone urn from which poured out a stream of fresh green leaves and flushed-red flowers. "Your father was always the romantic type for a soldier. He shouldn't have joined the army."

"Why not, Baa-san? He felt it was for the good of the nation."

"Pfff, what good? He should have stayed home and become a gardener for all the time he spent with those plants. You remember how he'd talk about them, like his own children? 'See here, look at the hibiscus, Ayako. It's taking its first steps towards the light, see? How clever! And look at the sunflowers! Three full feet already!' It's a wonder you were never jealous, poor child."

"Not really," Ayako smiled. "I thought it was funny, how he got so excited over them. Mother did too."

"Your mother's just as bad, see what she's gone and done with my view." She jabbed a finger up towards her window-sill on the floor above them. "Hydrangeas in a color that would put a streetwalker's dress – "

"Baa-san!"

" – to shame! Imagine waking up to that first thing in the morning, hm?"

"Surely it must be better than the grey streets and worn-out cars you see every other day."

"Oh, those are certainly perfect if you weren't in the habit of looking out in the first place. Now my window has the perfect view of the Takashis' backyard. Did you know that woman takes to hanging put the laundry in the most ridiculous get-ups? I saw her in heels and a pair of those awful raggedy jeans you young people insist on nowadays, the desperation of it all…"

Ayako shook her head and let her be. The sky was cloudy but there was the rest of the day to enjoy. Though Saturdays were exempt from practices, she knew that most of Shohoku's players would spend the extra time honing skills that were sharpening with each game they conquered. Gloomy Saturdays made for challenges too; the lack of light made a distant hoop little more than a mirage. A trained shooter knew better than to fall for that trick.

Illusions. Sometimes she wondered if a hidden weakness had her slipping on the usual tracks: a deep chuckle, an assumed glance her way across the court or even the simple lack of any of these signs. Mitsui wasn't your average player. Even the word took on a different tone with him…

Breakfast wasn't often a meal Ayako spent in pondering. She had an awful feeling that this was a phase she'd have to get used to over time. It was all right for him. He hadn't a clue as to what he was putting her through. Who knew? With a reputation like his, she bet that the thought of yet another broken heart on the line barely crossed his mind. Nice hair, small waist, long legs, that's what he liked.

The list hardened in her mouth, striking like pebbles in her soggy cereal. She took a gulp of green tea to wash down the bitterness and ended up scorching her tongue. Still too much to swallow.

Boys. And they called women 'difficult'.

She needed… to get moving. That was it. Walking soothed the mind, running would clear it. A good, hearty jog along some rain-clear Kanagawa streets wouldn't let her down nor would it ease her hopes up more than she could take.

With that in mind, Ayako finished her bowl. In her vigor, it seemed like the clouds would already part their ways.

Maybe she'd even find the sun while she was at it.