When I said I'm working full-time, I didn't expect coming to office on weekends. Fortunately, Sundays are free...unless something comes up...

Thanks everyone for waiting this long. Chapter 23 delves a little deeper into the relationship between captain and manageress.

PS. you can still vote in the poll

8th November, Saturday

12:27pm

A bus pulled over in front of the small building of Shin-Kawasaki station.

Yukimura fluidly stepped out onto the asphalt pavement and smoothed down his jacket. He had a moment notice when the engine revved up, sending a puff of smoke into the air from its exhaust pipe. Holding his breath, he hastily retreated from the acrid fumes swirling in the wake of the departing bus. Only when there's a good ten feet between himself and the bus stop did he breathe normally again.

Cool air rushing through his lungs eased away the tautness from his fair features.

Even then, the change wasn't discernible.

It had only been a miniscule crinkle on his forehead.

He slowed down his pace and glanced around, his slate-blue eyes easily sought out the figure of a noirette lingering outside the entrance, where a steady stream of passengers trickled to and fro the station.

Quite unlike those huddling inside their puffy jackets and coats, her ensemble was more suited for the warmer seasons than chilly November. Then again, the dropping temperatures never unfazed her, when most Rikkai students were wrapped up in their cosy scarves and donning jumpers. About the only change she made to her wardrobe was swapping the knee-length socks for tights.

For the 2 o'clock appointment with the editor, she wore a beige cotton cardigan over the burgundy dress that fell right above her knees, thin black leather belt strapped around her waist, charcoal tights and ballerinas with ankle straps – quite the modestly riveting look.

Curiosity piqued.

School uniform policies permitted jewelleries on condition they remained inconspicuous and subtle. As far as the captain knew, polished sapphires weren't on the list. If she wore it in school, it's probable she concealed it beneath her T-shirt. But now, the charming butterfly pendant dangling from the platinum gold necklace glinted liberally in the afternoon light.

A different curiosity tugged at his puzzled mind.

The days following her birthday, something about her changed. Whether she was ordering the first years around, berating a few slackers, managing the inventories, moaning about homework and quizzes, or simply standing nearby, she seemed to emanate a bright and lively aura.

Whatever transpired on Thursday though stubbed it out.

It happened a few times in recent past – enough for him to recognise the symptoms. And if she thought he was misled by the cheery façade and unaware of her frequent covert glances...

...she was dead wrong.

Akemi didn't show any signs of acknowledgement or looked up when he'd stopped right in front of her. Nor when he greeted with an affable smile, uttered her name enquiringly, waved a hand in front of her glassy eyes, leaned closely and peered straight at her face.

No reaction. Nothing.

Lost deep in the dark woods of her beleaguered mind, she stood there – glazed eyes on the ground – for goodness-know-how-long until a hand clamped down on her shoulder. As though the touch generated a wave of high voltage, her entire body gave a violent twitch, tossing her back to her senses.

Akemi blinked owlishly, thunderstruck at the sight of a beaming Yukimura.

"We'll run late if we don't hurry." He briefly glanced at the digital dashboard hanging above the entrance. "The next train's coming in five minutes."

Akemi cocked her head; the struggle to grasp the urgency evident on her contorted facial muscles. A dubious stretch of silence later, she bobbed her head a little uncertainly, as though beginning to remember the point of this rendezvous.

"Of course, let's go."

Gravely, a pensive Yukimura stared after her retreating form.

XXX

Even with a journey plan, the train they'd gotten on was packed with eager passengers heading into Tokyo. The seats were all occupied, leaving them hanging onto the handrail on their feet.

"I do apologise for letting you wait," Yukimura smiled ruefully; his chirpy voice melding with the hushed conversations floating around their compartment. "When word got out to Kaho that I'm going to Shibuya, she was quite insistent her dear brother get a few things for her art class." His chuckle was filled with warmth and fondness.

Yukimura Kaho, the captain's baby sister whom she'd met only in name, attended an all-girl's school near the border between Tokyo and Kawasaki. Allegedly, she shared the same passion in the arts as her graphic designer father and older brother.

What an odd bunch.

"It's okay," Akemi shrugged. "It was only a few minutes, so it doesn't bother me." She brushed an unruly strand of hair behind an ear, and returned the hand back around the handrail. "That U-17 training camp," she uttered out of the blue. "The registrations were approved. You and the other regulars are good to go."

"That's excellent," he smiled brightly. "And it's all thanks to your diligence, Akemi-san." His tactfully constructed words hit the sweet spot.

Guilt darkened her features for a fleeting moment.

"J-just doing my job," Akemi forced a smile. A frown of displeasure worked its way up her forehead, evidently for cover up. "It would have been easier if a few of them handed in their documents to me promptly," she criticised sulkily. "I would have submitted everything to the U-17 camp two days ago if not for their tardiness."

Although an invitation was sent, the regulars were required to sign up on the training camp's website. Of course with the existence of a manageress at hand, the task fell on her. Completing the forms was pretty straightforward. Tracking each of the regulars down for their signatures, proof of identities, consent letters from school and parents, battling with the library's wayward scanner, and then triple-checking everything was fine before sending it away wasn't by any means...an easy feat.

There were many treacherous instances when her body teetered on the brink of bypassing the rational part of her mind.

Yukimura gripped his chin contemplatively. "Well, if it makes you feel any better." An ominous look that completely negated the benevolent smile veiled his eyes. "They'll be subjected to adequate disciplinary actions come Monday morning."

"Y-you don't have to!" An alarmed Akemi automatically jumped to their defences. When the captain made a promise, it'd definitely materialise in one form or another. "I gave them a good telling off. They learnt their lessons –"

An unmistakable sound of soft laughter met her ears.

Oh, he was only teasing her.

Akemi shot him a dirty look and turned her head away, seething and plotting against the captain. It was awhile before he finally had his fill of aggravating her. Something good came out of it though. He didn't rekindle the conversation, and watched the view outside hurtling past the windows.

She heaved a sigh of exasperation. Honestly, one of these days...

At the next station, more passengers filed into the already heaving train. The high school students found themselves shuffling from the centre of the compartment to the doors designated for disembarking.

One hand around the metal pole, Akemi gripped the satchel protectively with the other in front of her. The bag sunk into her abdomen uncomfortably. She bore the pain for the remainder of the journey nonetheless. They couldn't afford losing the play's original draft and manuscript because of an avoidable slip up. There was her pendrive with the digital versions, but found more reassurance if she erred on the side of caution than risk leaving a bad impression.

Akemi kept her eyes on anything but the captain. Her bag squashed between their bodies gave what little space it could offer, which didn't amount much in the overcrowded compartment. Being so close, she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

...Feverish...

"Excuse me, please."

A middle-aged man with wisps of white hair combed over his balding head emerged behind them from the stagnant sea of passengers, and squeezed between Yukimura and rotund man. Sweat glistening on his forehead, he exhaled in relief. His leather briefcase hanging from one wrist swung perilously as he dusted his crisp black suit, unbothered when the bottom pointed edges hit the captain on his ribs.

Though his face remained impassive, Akemi saw it...

...the flash of frosty irritation tainting those slate-blue eyes.

She couldn't fault him really.

The man didn't have the smallest amount of decency to apologise. In fact, he just threw a condescending glare over to the captain for a non-existent provocation. When the gaze shifted to her figure, she pretended to study the train etiquette poster. Her lips slightly curled inwards with revulsion at the sense of wanton hunger burning into her flesh.

Best be on guard.

Movements in the corner of her eyes caught her attention. Head tilted back, Akemi gazed bewilderedly at the wily smile of Yukimura. He was standing in front of her still, but at an angle that shielded her from the middle-aged businessman's view.

Without warning, the train lurched as brakes were applied.

Caught out by surprise, Akemi was thrown forward and landed on the sturdy chest of Yukimura with an "Oof!". His free hand shot out and latched onto her upper arm, steadying her as the train slowed to a complete halt at the station.

The bald businessman shared her – well, neither present called it luck or anything along the line under his current state.

Face purple and contorted in a mixture of mortification and ire, he pushed himself off the aloof rotund man and tottered out of the train. In his haste, he almost tripped over his own foot as he scampered away. His ears shone angrily like a red beacon were visible even from afar.

Akemi drew away from the safe hold, feeling strangely unabashed. Their eyes met. For a few moments, neither said anything. Then quite suddenly, they burst out into soft gales of laughter.

XXX

Aihara Masanori, editor of five years at the Tokyo-based publishing company, Classic Mori. One of gentle and calm demeanour, he was tall and willowy, as if the autumn breeze whirled together the leaves and moulded into him. He had a face untarnished by time for a man in his late twenties, a glossy head of fawn-brown hair, striking eyes the very light hue of silver that glinted behind the black browline glasses. And when he smiled, the editor exuded an air of dignity and aplomb with ease as though second-nature.

The type that easily drew surreptitious glances (specifically from the young waitresses tittering at the bar).

The type that easily drew comparisons to a certain captain.

In a sense (apart from physical appearances), it was like watching the carbon copy of Yukimura Seiichi chuckling to a witty remark the Yukimura Seiichi made. For the sake of her (whatever's left of it) sanity, Akemi hoped such discomfiting semblance ended there with no room for errors and uncertainties.

Easier said than done. Naturally.

Akemi nervously adjusted her attire into a more presentable look. Her restless fingers strayed over the butterfly pendant, the fleeting and deliberate touch sending her encouragement.

Rule number 1: Greet the other party properly and in a confident manner.

The Hyotei captain had (needlessly) conveyed his words of wisdom late last night. Really, was it necessary to haul her to the park just for that?

When it was her turn, her heart gave a nasty leap into her throat. Steeling herself, Akemi stepped forward as she rapidly reciting the first rule inside her head.

Big smiles, greetings and firm handshakes exchanged, the three took their seats behind the table reserved for this occasion. Despite stumbling over a few words, a relieved noirette thought it went well.

Akemi briefly studied the retro Italian café which was located just off the popular high street of Shibuya. It was a bright and generally mild afternoon, with an assortment of pedestrians passing by the large polished window beside their table as they moved across the narrow cobbled street.

A stern-looking head waitress came around shortly after. She spent no more than a minute at their table and briskly left with the orders.

Her appearance seemed rather prompt and snappy, making Akemi wondered if...

She glanced over her shoulder.

...the other waitresses were visibly sulking at the bar. As soon as their apparent supervisor turned on her heels though, they had scurried back to duty.

Goodness.

Mentally rolling her eyes, she turned back to the table and tuned into the ongoing conversation between Yukimura and Aihara. And it'd seem the Rikkai captain was quite a household name even outside school and tennis.

"– a colleague of mine mentioned you months ago." He paused as the head waitress returned with their drinks and cakes, before resuming after she left. "Didn't you enter a competition Classic Mori held for high school students?"

While Akemi appeared nonplussed beside him, Yukimura smiled and nodded his head. "Yes, it was back in June."

Aihara leaned forward a little, awe written all over his features. Strangely, he looked thrilled by this discovery. "Out of four hundred and eighty three entries, yours was selected to feature on the cover of Kiyora Emiho's 'Into the Dust Storm'."

Two streams of coffee nearly spurted out through her nostrils. "K-Kiyora Emiho!?" she gasped with disbelief; her mug made a sharp clink when she set it down on the table. "The Kiyora Emiho? T-the one who wrote the hit fantasy series, Earthfall?" She's a huge fan of her works, collected all seven Earthfall books – including the latest release, Into the Dust Storm – and stuffed inside her bookcase.

The editor gazed at her incomprehensibly as though unable to grasp her outburst. And then quite abruptly, he let out a brief chortle much to her embarrassment.

Any sense of chagrin was swiftly doused at the sound of an annoying, familiar chuckle that grated her ears. Blushing furiously, she slid a withering glare out from the corner of the eyes to the sedate figure of Yukimura sitting beside her.

Aihara cleared his throat and beamed apologetically at her. "I'm sorry. But you're right." He stirred his mocha almost absently, head tilted slightly towards the captain. "Yukimura-kun's entry indeed is featured on the cover of Kiyora-sensei's new book. Having seen it out of curiosity, I am amazed by the artwork – floored even."

He chuckled. Again.

To make it worse, Yukimura joined in, tittering delicately with a hand raised to his parted lips. "I am humbled."

It was like watching coded messages flying back and forth between the two men sharing a good laugh – intangible and frustrating to decrypt.

A dark cloud formed over her head. Eyebrows furrowed, Akemi sunk deeper against the back of the leather sofa with her cappuccino between her hands. Not like she had the appetite for caffeine boost –or the baked cheesecake – anymore.

"Akemi-san, are you pouting?"

A serene voice inquired nonchalantly.

The impish grin on Yukimura was nowhere as roguish as Atobe whose mischievous disposition resembled that of a refined and flamboyant ruffian. The Rikkai captain, however, was rather...flippant. Rather like a naughty child.

Rule number (she couldn't remember): Maintain a professional conduct at all times.

Atobe had stressed on numerous occasions.

Huh.

Well, damned if she did and damned if she didn't.

"What are you on about Yukimura?" Akemi retaliated evenly, voice dripping with cold sarcasm. Setting her mug back on the table, she stirred the cappuccino with a teaspoon in a deliberate manner. "Letting you warm up to Aihara-san, I was merely being courteous." She gave an indifferent shrug. "Looks like you're doing just fine without my aid."

"Again, I must apologise for my boldness," Aihara piped up before the captain could say anything. His remorseful eyes shimmered with delicate despondency. "It's my fault for putting you in such abashing position."

"Oh – umm...i-it's fine," Akemi insisted fretfully. In her panic, she nearly knocked off the mug. A bumbling idiot, as Atobe once said. "We do this every day that it's become a habit." Scratching her cheek, she chuckled sheepishly. "Am I right, Yukimura-san?"

"Every single time."

Aihara sighed in relief. "That's assuring. But the two of you are really..." He glanced between the bemused high schoolers.

The expression dawning on his face...Akemi didn't like it one bit. Because what he was about to say went beyond the realms of possibility.

"Are you two perchance dating?"

They stared at him in stunned silence. Then –

"Ahaha!"

Heads turned.

"Ahahahahahahahahaha!"

Bent double in mirth, Akemi hugged her stomach tightly, feeling the metaphorical stitches threatening to tear apart. "I-I'm s-s-so sorry, Yukimura-san!" she gasped between breaths, shoulders shuddering with the behemoth struggle to control herself. "I'm so –" Another bout of laughter cut her off. Sobering up moments later, she smiled apologetically at him (failed remarkably). "No offense meant – honest. It was just too sudden."

"None taken," Yukimura assured, chuckling. "If it meant to see you laugh like that, it really doesn't bother me."

Honest.

Akemi grinned in appreciation and turned back to the editor. Was it her or did her just smirk? 'No, must be imagining things.' Mentally shaking away the thought, the noirette gathered (whatever remained of) her wits in one deep breath and bowed her head respectfully.

"Nice to meet you."

Though the editor would have known this bit of information through their email correspondences...

"My name is Noda Akemi." The words flowed from her tongue with fluid ease, thanks to the practice she had with an assiduous Atobe last night. "Currently a sophomore and manageress of the boy's tennis club at Rikkai High." Lifting her head, she grinned toothily. "Pleased to meet your acquaintance, Aihara-san," she bowed again. "I, for one, must apologise for my behaviour."

Aihara dismissed her worry with a shake of his head, as a smile of amusement formed on his lips. "Pleasure's all mine. Though again, the one who should apologise is me. For using your first name, I'd misunderstood."

A touch of melancholy trickled onto the quirked lips; it was anticipated long before leaving Britain.

Akemi knew that Japanese social code of conduct was very different from what she's accustomed to. It took her ages (about a month in fact) to get used to hearing her last name uttered. She was the one who specifically implored the regulars (except a certain trickster) to use her first name, and while most from the tennis club preferred calling her (much to her mortification) 'aneki', only a handful truly emulated the regulars. In class, it was much more varied.

Fingers curled around the butterfly charm.

Probably the only individual who openly used plain 'Akemi' was Atobe Keigo – the captain with capricious tendencies, ego that could engulf the universe in its glory, and a veiled compassionate nature.

"I suppose that makes the two of us then," the noirette smiled softly, "Yukimura-san and a whole host of others." She subconsciously brushed the sapphires with a thumb. "Mistakes, trials and errors – they shape us all, the living things of this planet – constantly...sporadically – into this form we possess today."

It's a matter of time when you leave the picture.

Clock's a ticking.

Tick tock.

Tick tock.

Tick...

...tock

"Akemi-san, are you alright?"

The gentle voice of Yukimura snapped her back from the daze. He peered worriedly at her features which had gained a sickly colour.

Aihara picked up the hint. "If you're feeling unwell we can stop. Perhaps we should reschedule –"

"No! I'm fine. Perfectly fine," Akemi hastily interjected and slapped on a well-constructed smile. "Really, I don't want to be the reason for taking up more of your time, Aihara-san." At time, her body shuddered a little.

"...If you say so," Aihara eventually conceded after a moment of deliberation. "But don't hesitate if you wish to go home." The corner of his lips quirked up. "You drive a hard bargain. I'm impressed."

Watching the girl chuckling sheepishly, Yukimura narrowed his eyes about a fraction.

Aihara placed his mug gently on the table. "What you said just now was quite thought-provoking." Leaning in, he briefly studied her profile. "Before, I've thought the producer of the play is you," he addressed the captain. Out from his briefcase, a familiar pamphlet appeared. The brunette laid it down on the centre of the table. "It's stated on the program that the playwright is Yukimura Seiichi."

Her body tensed abruptly under the intense gaze of those penetrating silvery eyes. There was something...off about them. Calculating and conniving. But that could be down to her heart was pounding nervously from the groundless sense of trepidation.

"But on second thought –"

His voice cut through her thoughts, throwing her back to the conversation.

"– it wasn't a misprint."

Akemi blinked in astonishment. 'That was clearly not a question. Surely, he couldn't have ascertained from that alone?'

"Oh it was a misprint alright," Yukimura politely differed. "An intentional one though." He shifted his gaze to the noirette. "Our true author is sitting right here, the one who placed absolute effort in scripting the play."

Seeing the need to disclose the true identity of the playwright, she had braced herself for this moment. Yet, she couldn't help but feel thoroughly embarrassed by Yukimura. She hated being singled out. He knew of this damn aversion.

"Oh, umm..." Akemi averted her gaze and picked at her dress nervously. After some time, she resigned with a weary sigh and raised her hands. "Guilty as charged. But to be honest, Yukimura-san did all the editing work." 'And adding unnecessary parts,' she added fumingly, remembering the waltz catastrophes.

Well, all except the one time she managed to (literally) keep herself on her toes and not step on a certain someone's after seemingly endless practices.

Aihara clapped his hands together once, startling the two youngsters. "Wonderful! Just wonderful!" he gushed, eyes brimming with joy. "This makes things easier. I was a bit worried that it might be too much burden for Yukimura-kun."

The captain was silent for a moment before he blinked in surprise. "You don't mean to say?"

Aihara nodded.

"Umm..." A rather mystified Akemi glanced from one to another several times. "I'm sorry, didn't catch that? What to say what? What's wonderful?"

"Noda-san, what is your verdict on collaborating with Yukimura-san?"

"Colla...borate?"

"I should paraphrase it better." The editor picked up the fork and sliced out a generous portion of his walnut cake. "How about instead of black and white pages front to back, we throw in some drawings?" He grinned. "It'll make things more...engaging for young children."

A touch of scepticism clouded those slate-blue eyes.

"Oh!" Akemi exclaimed, bumping a fist on her opened palm. "You're suggesting we work together on a picture book!"

"Something like that. But I'm thinking more along the line of adding illustrations here and there, just to give a little idea on how – for example – the characters look like or the emotions."

"Hmm...I've never thought of that. It sounds intriguing." As if she just remembered something, Akemi snapped her fingers. "Oh! But..." she trailed off, scowling with a disheartened expression. "Yukimura-san will be gone for about a month. The training camp starts next Friday – he'll be very busy then," she muttered audibly.

"Not to worry," Yukimura promised sincerely. "When I was not involved in training of any forms in previous camps, I had plenty of time to indulge in leisure activities." A touch of his usual confidence and pride tugged at his lips. "It's right down to proper time management."

"Still..."

"I am certain it will work out between the two of you. Of course, I will be there to help and guide along the way," Aihara placed his fork on the empty plate. "So what do you say, Noda-san?" Elbows resting on table, he peered above his interlaced fingers through ardent eyes. "Deal or no deal?"

Akemi glanced at the captain who nodded encouragingly, giving her consent to make the imperative decision. She dropped her gaze to the frothy top of her cappuccino, feeling her stomach twisting into a knot.

Strange...when a golden opportunity presented itself on a silver plate – suddenly – it became impossible to make a prompt decision. 'Human nature', she supposed. Eyebrows furrowed. 'But...' The hands resting on her lap gripped the dress tightly.

"Aihara-san..."

Fierce resolve burning intensely in those brown pools as she gazed firmly at the editor.

She grinned widely, "You have yourself a new author."

XXX

A clatter sounded as Aihara fastened the latches.

"Excellent, I'll hand them to the editor-in-chief on Monday." He patted his briefcase where the brown envelopes containing the copies of her CV (Yukimura was earlier asked to email his), the original draft and script book were tucked safely away.

Right. The actualisation of the book lay in the hands of the editor-in-chief of Classic Mori, the one who had the final say on all decisions regarding publications.

Fork held between her teeth, Akemi dropped her gaze to her cheesecake.

Sensing her anxiety, the brunette briskly added, "Don't worry. I'm sure you'll be given a green light. In the meantime, I'll read through the whole thing at home – even if I still remember the play vividly."

Either he was being genuinely upfront or flaunting, Akemi wasn't certain from his rather laidback manner of speaking. And there was the need to end every sentence with a chuckle. At least with Yukimura, a smile or two would do.

"Another thing, this is very important. Since you're a minor, it is company policy you publish under a penname for identity protection purpose. Do you have any suggestions?" Aihara asked.

"...How about mixing up the kanji in our names?" Akemi took out a pen from her satchel. But without finding a piece of paper conveniently squashed unrecognisably in the depths of her bag, she resorted to use the napkin in lieu. "This is just from the top of my head," she murmured, hastily scribbling on the napkin, and placed it on the middle of the table

"Akemi's Mi and Yukimura-san's Yuki." She indicated each character with the tip of her pen. "Our captain here is notoriously known as 'Kami no Ko,'" she casually revealed to the befuddled editor. "So, Kami's Kan – and from my surname, Noda's No."

Kanno Miyuki

"Sounds alright to me," Yukimura approved, gazing at her with amusement.

"Same here." Aihara fumbled inside his briefcase. "Let me jot that down..."

XXX

As the meeting continued without a hitch, the tangle of nerves that had been gnawing at the pit of her stomach loosened. She was noticeably chirpier, cracking a few witty jokes between discussions or when the two high schoolers were sharing stories about the club activities antics. She even laughed along with the two young men.

All in all, the atmosphere was bright and cheery.

That was until the curious editor broached a particular subject.

"The White King and the princess..."

"What about them?" Akemi politely enquired.

Aihara tapped the nib of the luxurious fountain pen on his leather-bound journal. His spidery handwriting running across the pages was neat and legible. Akemi felt a tad shamefaced when she compared it to hers on the café's napkin. Really, she should have asked for a piece of paper.

"Right from the start to the end, there's a special connection between the two that was cultivated through trust," Aihara said after a brief pause. "The way he's protective over her, how she confided her recurrent nightmares and fears to the King – their relationship has a lot of potential."

Akemi grasped the dreaded implication instantly.

"Forgive me for sounding blunt, Aihara-san," she spoke after a moment hesitation; words cautiously articulated to avoid sounding curt. The bemused editor looked up from his journal. "But...I don't see that as a problem. The king is to the princess an important ally and friend – nothing more. In my head, she sees him as someone she can rely on in times of trouble."

That last phrase struck a deep chord in her. She couldn't remember where or when. Nevertheless, it strengthened her resolve.

"Not all relationships end with romance or marriage." Akemi lifted her chin slightly. "And I've never intended to do so in the play for which – as you've mentioned – trust and comradery take on more important roles in the story's development. The reviews from the school's drama club and the audience lauded this move."

"I'm not saying it isn't possible." His chuckle lost its usual gaiety. Sharp with a smidgeon of derision. "What I meant is that their relationship can develop further during the story progression. From a bashful smile, a fleeting kiss on the cheek, to a marriage proposal or even a lavish wedding. Children will love to read that kind of book."

Akemi opened her mouth slightly and closed it again. Several thoughts swept through her head, each causing a dull sensation to weigh down her heart.

A ringtone suddenly sounded.

Aihara checked his phone; a look of surprise flashed in his eyes. "Oh my, is it this late already?" He hastily swept his belongings into his briefcase and stood. "I'm sorry, but I must go – I have a meeting in Chiba. Got to catch the train."

"Umm...about –" Akemi sucked in her breath at the sharp pain around the crook of her arm. She was pulled onto her feet with Yukimura.

"Of course, we understand the urgency." Releasing the vice-grip, he bowed. "Thank you for your time, Aihara-san."

"Pleasure's all mine." The editor shortly bowed back and turned to the noirette who remained motionless. "Please do consider my suggestion, Noda-san. I'll contact you when I've received words from the editor-in-chief."

With that parting line and a flash of his pearly whites, he breezed off from their table and left the café after paying for everything at the till.

Akemi plopped down heavily on the sofa. Yukimura mirrored her move with far more grace. He could have taken the spot Aihara occupied moments ago. But he didn't. He stayed beside her throughout the heavy silence, drinking from his cup while she stared blankly down at the embossed business card the editor gave at one point. Much as she appreciated it however...

"You could have said something."

Unperturbed by the accusatory tone, Yukimura paused between sips long enough to say, "This is your story."

"But you agreed the last time we had this discussion."

"That was different then."

"And how is this different from then?"

"You hesitated just now, didn't you?"

"..."

"Marketing cliché books that sends false messages to elementary school children goes against your principles." Yukimura placed the emptied cup on its saucer. "But if you'd maintained the disagreement any further, it might anger the editor and thus jeopardise the publishing prospect. Since he was the one who approached willingly, you feared such opportunity will never occur a second time. So it seemed like a clear yes. That is until the moral issue assaulted your mind. You wanted to say no. Then, you remembered the book and suppressed the urge." His gaze followed the movement of a leaf swirling gracefully in the air outside the window. "The cycle goes on, repeating itself. Arrière pensée. In the end, you're clueless."

"...or a fool."

"Human, Akemi-san. Human."

She gave a bitter chuckle. "As usual, you're bang on." A faint smirk laced with cynicism tugged at her lips. "You'll make a fine lawyer, Yukimura-san."

Head still turned to the window, Yukimura returned a smile, bordering on a smirk. "We best not dawdle any longer." He lifted his eyes to the small patches of dark clouds gathering above the street. A memory fleeted across his mind. "Rain isn't a good excuse for Kaho."

XXX

He insisted on sticking together as they strolled around the maze of shelves and cabinets, hunting down the items scribbled on the list.

He trailed behind her, carrying a bulging bag (yielded to temptation and bought a few things for himself) in one hand, as she browsed through the shelves filled to the brim with notebooks of various sizes, shapes and colours.

He watched her compared the two pen barrels – one a solid black, the other white and dotted with nonchalant-looking penguin faces – at the mix-and-match corner.

He remained silently amused as she paid for both at the till.

He blinked in astonishment when she wordlessly gave the solid black one to him.

She met his eyes and smiled wanly.

About an hour and a half later, they left the soaring building of Loft Shibuya together.

XXX

Light struggled to break through the thick blanket of clouds. It shrouded the sky, casting an ominous shadow over the sprawling tireless metropolis. The bleak weather matched the mood of the noirette gazing up at it with a stolid expression perfectly. Neither sunshine nor rain penetrated the atmosphere, as if the sky was stuck on the horns of a dilemma.

Arrière...pensée...

"Get ready."

The mellow voice of Yukimura whispering beside an ear pulled her back to Shibuya Crossing. Towering buildings, glimmering billboards, giant TV screens blaring more advertisements, shoppers and traffic...the tumultuous noises of the busy scramble crossing flooded her senses all at once.

Akemi grasped the side of her head.

Dizzying as they said.

They stood in the frontline of a restless crowd, waiting for the lights. As the last few vehicles whizzed past, Akemi tightened the grip around the shopping bag and satchel. Taking a deep breath, she steeled herself and unknowingly edged closer to the captain.

The moment the traffic lights turned green, pedestrians spilled onto the road in their hundreds. Walking alongside Yukimura, Akemi quelled the feeling of unease as the swarm of pedestrians from all sides trooped towards them. The crowds met head-long in the middle of the intersection. Soon, they were no longer in the front.

Akemi hastened her pace. Yukimura was already walking slightly ahead of her. She glanced at Shibuya Station looming ever closer and sighed in relief. 'Nearly there.'

"I've told you many times..."

"...she makes her own decision!"

"...been talking..."

"...delusional..."

"...fed up..."

"...ridiculous...dare...no..."

The voices reverberated over the clamour of the crossing. Pinpointing the direction, a curious Akemi shifted her gaze to her left. Between the gaps in the crowd, a couple of high school students engaging in a heated argument flickered to and fro view.

Her eyes caught a glimpse of a hair ornament perching on the high ponytail. For an unfathomable reason, her feet stopped abruptly in their tracks.

"Ow!" she exclaimed in pain when a passing stranger bumped into her shoulder. A clatter sounded nearby. Akemi dropped her gaze and felt her eyes bulged in horror.

"Ah! The pen!" Without a second thought, Akemi pivoted and chased after the novelty item. She was planning on giving it to Atobe as a gift for his (helpful or not) advices. If she lost it in the crowd, or worst, crushed by an unsuspecting foot – she brushed aside the thought. Not if she could help it.

Her fingertips brushed the pen a few times as it bounded between legs.

Growling, she lunged forward. "Gotcha!" Akemi gasped triumphantly, scooping up the pen into her hand. Tightening the grip in a possessive hold, she straightened up and glanced around the vicinity for Yukimura.

Fear stabbed through her heart as realisation slowly sunk in. He was nowhere within sight.

Eyes darting about, she searched for any hair or hide of the captain. Like a contagion, the unpleasantly familiar feeling spread inside her, gripping the erratically beating heart and constricting her voice-box. Her world began to spin, disorientating her. Wherever she turned, her route was barricaded by the jungle of humans.

She was trapped.

The first drops of rain plummeted through the atmosphere. One struck her forehead and splattered into an eye, causing her to blink.

Unexplainable fear rose.

It assaulted, strangled, tormented until it inundated her completely.

Under the countless glass panels set into the looming arched roof, the minuscule figure of her seven year old self stood stock-still amid the blurry haze of passengers. Their paces long and hurried, the incognisant adults alone seemed confident knowing where their destination laid beyond the buff brick walls of King's Cross.

Never faltering, never glancing behind, their glazed eyes stared blankly ahead.

She took a tentative and unsteady step forward, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes and –

A single drop of rainwater trickled down her cheek. It had a hint of salt in her mouth.

Brown eyes wide with shock stared straight into the blue ones. Despite the tight hold, the hand clutching onto hers was warm and gentle.

'K-Keigo-san?' Akemi frowned.

No.

Those eyes and hand...they're too different. No matter the mood, an intense fire burnt was always present in his royal blue eyes. And his hands...she should know. They felt sturdy, and just large enough that her own pair could fit comfortably.

The fingers slipping into the groove of her clenched hand were long and delicate. Where there was fire, it seemed to take its sweet time toying with the victim in its scorching heat. And with a mere smile, those slate-blue eyes could easily conceal their true feelings at will.

Right now, they were filled with relief.

Wordlessly, Yukimura guided the equally silent girl by the hand as they wove through the crowd. Soon, they ended up at a quiet spot outside the train station where a lone tree stood, its rusty brown leaves rustled in the wind.

Akemi continued staring in stunned silence, half-aware that the warmth around her hand had long disappeared, only for it to reappear on the crown of her head.

He smiled serenely. "It's time to go home, little lost sheep." With those words, he turned around and started towards the station's entrance.

Snapped out of the stupor, Akemi blinked several times before settling with a smothering glare. "Who are you calling a little lost sheep?" she demanded brusquely, quickly falling into steps with the captain.

"Well, I'm sure the tree wouldn't have given me the honour of responding."

"...meanie."

"What was that?"

"We better go before it properly pours."

"That sounded too long for what you've said earlier about me being a meanie."

"Urgh!"

That was the sound of a suitably vexed Akemi throwing her arms up in defeat while Yukimura chuckled on with amusement.

XXX

That night

After possibly digging a trench in the carpeted floor of her bedroom with her pacing, she had rung up Aihara to apologise for her 'inexcusable' behaviour. He didn't take it to heart, actually extoling her tenacity (a less insulting alternative; a few would candidly use stubbornness) and obstinate stance on her characters. Apparently, it showed she possessed fierce devotion and self-assurance.

Needless to say, the bizarre connection left her rather stumped.

Ending the call, Akemi – dressed in her flannel pyjamas – carelessly threw the phone onto her bed and dropped down beside it with a long sigh of exhaustion. Her heart felt lighter, despite the fact that she's following through Aihara's plan. For the time being, she'd just have to make do with it, while she worked on feasible ways to deviate around the subject for the book's draft.

"Call him tonight," Yukimura advice echoed in her head. "Though we don't know for sure, call him before the situation deteriorates. It'll be too late to rectify then."

Amongst the clutters on her bedside table, a particular item that had been torturing her mind since discovering it amongst the pile of fanmails two days ago stood out like a sore thumb. Rolled onto her side, Akemi stared at it through half-opened eyes, trying to figure everything out.

Why?

Why did it feel like he's hinting at something...specific?

XXX

Next day...Monday at Rikkai...afternoon club activities

"Umm..."

Her tentative voice broke off the discussion. Rikkai's revered Three Monsters turned around.

"What is it?" Sanada asked, puzzled.

Eyes on the ground, Akemi curled a finger around a wavy lock of hair. Her resolve faltered as silence stretched. But they waited patiently for her as she made up her mind. Eventually, Akemi sighed in defeat and picked up her head. Out from a pocket, she produced a letter.

A look of astonishment crossed their features.

"That is," Yanagi raised an eyebrow.

Akemi nodded slowly. Only this morning, she'd found several more of these stuffed inside her shoe locker with all the other fanmails.

His reassuring smile urging her forward, she walked up to them and halted before the captain standing in the middle of the trio. He reached out for the letter with his long and slim fingers –

"Well done, Noda!" A feminine, orotund voice rang out bold and clear throughout the tennis courts. "You've made a fine decision to quit the tennis club!"

A dead silence poured over the courts.

They gawked at her.

She gawked at the grinning girl who had appeared out of nowhere in a Karate-gi.

Needless to say, the uproar that ensued was of a proportion she had the misfortune to meet headlong.

More humour next chapter. I promise.

To jjvgf1999 and those who voted Yukimura, I hope this chapter is satisfactory. But not to worry, it doesn't stop here of course. To those who voted for other characters, they will have their limelight.

Poll results:

Yukimura - 4 (+ 1 from review)

Atobe - 3

Kirihara - 1

Niou - 1

Sanada - 1 (from review)

Others - 0

Review? :D