142Chapter One
I was gaping in awe – something that I never allowed myself to do in public. If I hadn't been here the whole time to see it with my own eyes, I wouldn't have believed it. What was happening before my very eyes was nothing short of dumbfounding.
A bright-red-haired boy was leisurely walking and dribbling around another stupefied boy who, moments before, had every intention of stealing the ball from him. With just a few subtle movements from the red-haired player, he'd found himself on the ground, staring in much the same way as the rest of the crowd at his opponent.
This play continued again and again until, with the fourth quarter about to begin, the red-haired boy was subbed out and seemed content to watch the rest of his team crush the opposition.
Well, I suppose with a seventy-eight-point lead, there really was no need to rub it in anymore.
From beside me, Eisuke whistled low. "Damn… And I thought I was good…"
"You'd be the only one," I muttered.
Eisuke blinked down at me from his superior height, as though surprised at my words. "So mean…"
"Did I give off a compassionate impression? Sorry, my mistake. It won't happen again." As I stared forward, he continued gazing at my profile. I ignored him at first, but after a while I felt my brow begin to twitch irritably. "What?"
"Nothing…"
"Fine."
A moment of silence passed. "Is that why you don't hang out with many people? Your attitude?"
"No," I growled. "That would be because I'm constantly busy. Even being here now, with you, is seriously affecting my schedule."
"Your schedule," he repeated.
I shot him an irked look. "Did I stutter –?"
Suddenly, a groan of protest rose up from the surrounding crowd. I leaned forward and tried to make out what had gone wrong on the court, but the flow of the game was a complete mystery to me. Frustration welled up, and I sat back in my chair with a huff.
"That shouldn't even be legal," Eisuke muttered to himself.
I steadfastly remained silent, but when the score board began to change in favour of our team, I succumbed. Tilting my head, I asked, "What's happening?"
He glanced down once, then chuckled to himself. "Too complicated for you?" When I just stared at him, he swallowed. "Right. Well. You see number five? He was just 'charged' by number eight from the other team, even though number eight clearly wasn't doing it intentionally…"
I studied the milling bodies on the court, noting the way the other team seemed to be running out of stamina at a much faster rate than Rakuzan. "Isn't that a matter of perspective?"
He flicked his eyes to me once, then back to the court below. "Yeah, I guess…"
"Besides," I surmised. "This is just a find-raiser game for the school. It doesn't matter who wins..."
Yeah, right. Not even I believed that. This wasn't a basketball game anymore – it was more along the lines of a massacre, as though Rakuzan were making an example out of their opponents. With that in mind, I grabbed my backpack and stood, ready to leave.
Eisuke frowned at my acitons. "Hey, what're you doing?"
I raised a brow at him. "I'm going home. To finish my school work. Because we have a math assignment due tomorrow."
His eyes widened in horror. "W-What? We have a – wait, Setsuna-chan! Why didn't you tell me sooner –?"
I made my way to the exit, ignoring his sputtering and mentally groaning at the thought of all the homework I had sacrificed to see this 'game'. At the door, I glanced back and frowned at the red-haired figure currently out of play and unconcernedly scrolling through his phone. He wasn't even interested in what was happening at this point in the game…
I can't believe I go to the school this team is representing.
"I'm home!" I called out as I removed my shoes, placing them neatly in the corner and donning the set of slippers available.
"Why are you late?" My aunt appeared in front of the stairs with her usual unimpressed glower.
"I'm sorry, I stayed late at school to finish a project with a group."
She narrowed her eyes. "You think hanging out with your friends holds priority over your responsibilities here?"
I inhaled once, striving for composure. "Of course not, Oba-san. I'll still do everything that needs to be done, I promise."
"You'd better. I shouldn't have to shelter someone who doesn't pull her weight." She sighed and turned away, muttering, "Did your parents neglect to teach you basic etiquette?"
For a moment, my back stiffened and my fists curled into balls of fury. But knowing the consequences of retaliation, I took another deep breath and let it out. Don't let it get to you.
I made my way upstairs and into my room, and as I unpacked my belongings, my thoughts wandered to this afternoon's game – recalling the red-haired boy's languid expression as he casually fell three opponents in one play. I frowned as I realised something.
He wasn't even putting effort into his movements, like he knew what the outcome would be before he'd even begun to try…
It was lunchtime, and I was in the library with what I supposed – at this point – was my 'kind-of' friend. Oshiro Eisuke's face was currently scrunched up in concentration as he contemplated the fate that lay before him. Clearly, he thought he still had options left.
I knew this game has been decided four moves ago.
While I was patiently waiting for him to realise this – again – my head was hidden behind a popular old-English novel, Pride and Prejudice. With all my years spent learning from books that Oba-san had specifically chosen for me, English had become as familiar a language to me as Japanese. Old-style English was slightly more challenging, but even more of a stimulation for my over-active brain.
Not to mention the story itself was commendable.
A loud BANG! made me drop the book in my lap. "Hah! There! Take that, Setsuna-chan!" Oshiro was grinning down at me with his arms folded over his chest.
I released a breath, picking up my novel and adjusting my glasses. "There's no need to make so much noise; you made me lose my page. And I told you to stop calling me that." I moved a piece on the board. "You're too familiar with me."
He peered down at the board. "Pfft, what kind of move was that, Setsuna-chan? Normally I'd go easy on such a cute girl with awesome red hair, but you've just set yourself up for a serious beating…" He trailed off and frowned. I almost smirked. The moron never learned.
While he slowly processed the situation, I picked at my bento. "Did you finish the math assignment?"
Eisuke fidgeted uneasily and replied, "Kind of."
"'Kind of'?" I echoed. "Are you going to pass, at least?"
"Maybe?"
I shook my head in disgust. "Unbelievable… How do you expect to move up a year at this rate? Shouldn't you re-think your priorities a little bit?"
As he began to mutter a string of excuses, I glanced up at the clock and sighed, sliding my bookmark into the book. I stood up and gathered my belongings.
"H-Hey! Where are you going?"
I glared at him. "To submit my assignment. Lunchtime's nearly over, and anyway, I think this game has been decided. If you don't agree, look at the board a little longer, baka." I turned away.
He chuckled. "You're so mean, Setsuna-chan! Same time tomorrow?"
I didn't respond, which probably meant 'yes' in Oshiro's mind. Instead, I made my way to class, mentally going over all the concepts I had revised for this difficult math lesson.
As the bell for the end of the day sounded, a pleasant thought entered my mind. Oba-san has to stay late for work today… I remembered suddenly why I loved Tuesday's so much.
But, as I made my way to my locker, I wondered what I would do to occupy my rare spare time. For some reason – perhaps because of the amount of homework I had completed in two days – I was desperate to do something physical.
I was a few metres from the main door to the gym when the sound of a bouncing ball and squeaking sneakers reached me. I paused, peering cautiously around the corner. On the basketball court was a red-haired boy dribbling the ball from one hand to the other, gazing up at the hoop. He was slowly rotating his body back and forth, as though readying himself for something.
His feet moved in a flash of motion and my eyes glued themselves there, captivated as they shuffled and turned in a hypnotizing display that had me subconsciously moving further inside the gym to follow their movement. As though imagining his opponent, he twisted and turned in sync with his feet, dribbling the ball through his legs and around his body.
For some reason, his movements seemed oddly familiar. Had I seen him play before…?
My eyes widened in realisation. It was him; the red-haired boy who had mercilessly destroyed his opponents in the game between Rakuzan and Josei High.
He faked to the right, twisted to the left and in one breath-taking leap he shot the ball into the air. The swishing of the net filled the silence. He released a breath and wiped his forearm across his forehead. That was when he caught sight of me standing there, staring at him like an idiot.
"Something you need?" His voice was surprisingly clear. Refined. An individual of high social status addressing someone of – significantly – lower status.
Still, I straightened my spine. "I was given permission to use the gym for a while this afternoon." My voice, in comparison, was shaky and drab despite my efforts. Good thing I wasn't concerned with making decent first impressions.
He sighed, annoyed. "Who gave you permission?"
"Tanaka-sensei."
He tucked the ball against his hip. "There's only basketballs in here. I didn't think anyone else would come." Basketball. Of course. Something he excelled at, and I had never really tried. I reminded myself once again that I didn't care what he thought.
I shrugged and headed over to the basket containing an abundance of basketballs, choosing one and heading to the other net. I studied it for a moment, and then jumped, releasing the ball at the apex of my jump. It sailed through the air, and then rebounded off the hoop with a loud TWANG!
Dammit.
I retrieved the ball and tried again, only to obtain the same result. Again and again I tried, but to no avail. Damn, why was this so hard? It's just one hoop!
"Would you mind actually getting it in? The constant sound of your failure is annoying."
I turned and glared at the boy. "Would you mind your own business?"
His arms tensed around the ball he was holding. "Perhaps I would, or even could, if you'd stop making so much noise."
I bristled, shocked at the nerve of this boy, but nevertheless refused to lose my temper. "Well instead of looking down your nose at everyone who's not a basketball freak-show, why don't you teach me?"
His brow raised at that, as though he'd never heard a more preposterous idea in his life, then turned and bounced the ball once. "I don't waste my time on such impractical tasks."
"Why not?"
"I have more important things to do with my time." He shot the ball. Of course, it went in without a hitch.
I scoffed. "Like what, perfect your perfect technique? Yeah, you'd better get right on that." I tried for another shot and, miracle of miracles, it went in.
For a few minutes there was only the easy 'swish' sound of his ball slicing easily through the hoop, and the loud, perhaps slightly offensive 'twang!' of mine continuously missing its mark. I sniffed and kept it up, refusing to be cowed.
Snot-nosed jerk thinks he knows everything. He just shows off his physical capabilities to make him seem better than everyone else… I bet he has the logic capacity of a squirrel.
I glanced over, considering, and tried to imagine him as such; cheeks stuffed with food, eyes large, scurrying over the ground in quick bursts of energy. Without my meaning to, I giggled, stuffing my hand over my face in an attempt to muffle it.
He froze mid-dribble, his back to me. From beneath his T-shirt, his arms tensed. His head slowly began to turn.
I quickly spun and shot the ball, adopting an innocent demeanour. For some reason, an instinct was telling me he definitely wasn't the type to be laughed at and take it lying down. That in mind, I jogged over to retrieve my ball with every intention of returning it and abandoning my attempt at physical exercise.
His presence was just way too distracting, and not in a good way.
I was crouching down, my hands on the ball, when I felt a presence behind me. Still crouching, I spun, ball in hands, only to have something slam it away. His foot. My body moved on its own. Reflexively, I sunk to a sitting position and scrambled backwards, hand flying to my neck involuntarily. My breath was frozen.
He was standing over me, ball still in his hands, staring at me with such an impassive expression that for a moment, I wondered if it had actually been him to suddenly kick the ball out of my trembling hands. That was until he slowly crouched down, his face level with mine.
"Why are you laughing, Koizumi-san?" He murmured, almost sweetly. It was then I noticed that his eyes were different colours; one an intense red, the other an orange-yellow. So strange… Compelling, almost. I couldn't look away, despite the fear that had me in a stranglehold.
I couldn't breathe, and hence I couldn't form words. His eyes… His face may have been expressionless, but his eyes were searing me.
"What's the matter?" He taunted softly. "Cat got your tongue?"
When I neglected to respond in any way, he reached out and a cool finger lightly brushed my face. "Breathe." Air rushed out of my lungs, then back in again on a long inhale. "Good. Now tell me. What's so funny?"
With air now moving through my lungs, my thought process was back online. I dragged in gasping breaths and back up even further, his hand falling away from my face. "W-What's your problem?" It was supposed to come out as an indignant shout, but instead it was barely more than a whisper.
"You… Koizumi-san." So calm and controlled… Unnerving.
Just then, there was a disturbance at the door. "Seijuro-san! What are you doing?" The voice belonged to none other than the schools most esteemed female student, Suzuki Chinami.
His eyes never left mine. "What is it, Suzuki?"
I glanced at her. She had her hands on her hips and was blatantly appraising us with suspicious eyes. "I waited at the entrance for you, but you never came. Did you get held up?"
His expression didn't change. "Something like that."
Frustration was fast replacing terror. I stood on shaky legs, glaring down at him still crouched there. Edging carefully around him, I hastened to my bag, noticing that Suzuki wasn't budging an inch. She assessed me much like a woman would a cockroach. "Who are you?"
"No one of consequence."
I hurried past her and was almost out the door when his voice reached me. "Koizumi-san, be sure to exercise caution on your way home. I've heard some disturbing rumours of perverts around this area."
I glanced back. He was standing there with his ball balanced against his hip, eyes piercing me despite the distance between us. The sight was enough to make me shiver.
I reflected on the events of the afternoon as I walked home. The guy had something seriously wrong with him. He'd practically assaulted me! What had his name been…? Seijuro. I wondered what his family name was.
Wait a second…
My face paled abruptly. How had he known my name? Was he some kind of stalker? As I boarded the train, I couldn't help but recall his intense stare. Maybe he just looked into my brain and found it. Honestly, I wouldn't have been surprised.
Those eyes…
Against my good sense, I found myself wanting to see them again.
