Chapter Text
Riko's room darkened with elaborate slowness, as if someone was tiptoeing around dropping black velvet handkerchiefs over each set of furniture. Riko didn't notice. All her attention span was wrapped in the thin metal grasped between her fingers, and the familiar raspy voice of her father.
She told him the whole story. It had been a laborous task — a string of words punctuated by deep, harsh gasps. Her father had been uncharacteristically silent until she finally stopped. With the back of her hand, she pressed her mouth.
"Riko..." he said, after several moments. "After such a long time since we talked — I missed you so much my heart bled, Riko, literally — and I really thought you went AWOL...and yet you want to talk about a boy?"
The silence snapped like a brittle thread. "Dad!" Riko's exclamation was less a reprimand and more a sound of relief. She couldn't help the corners of her lips quirking upwards. For the first time, she felt glad for her dad's silliness.
"Fine, fine," he grumbled on the other end. "So? Want me to go over there and punch some senses into this boy?"
"Dad, stop with the sarcasm already. You know very well that if it's a matter of physical violence, I am completely capable of handling it myself."
Her father sniggered, and Riko joined in.
Then he sighed. "It sounds like you already know what this whole issue is really about. It's a matter of fundamental differences between principles. I can't help you. No one can. Only you and this Hayama idiot can work this out."
"Yeah." Riko swallowed. "I just —" A pause. "I don't know if I can look past his beliefs, or rather, his value system. At least, ignore it enough for us to be friends again." Real friends, Riko thought.
"Is it so important for you to have this guy's friendship? He sounds like a complete buffoon."
"Yes!" The reply came quicker than Riko intended. "There was this one time — he told me that if I ever missed Seirin, I could seek him out any time. And he's cheered me up so many times in Rakuzan. And yes, he's annoying — but he kept me from feeling lonely just by the sheer obnoxiousness of his presence. Now, though..." She couldn't continue.
"I see." Her father's voice sounded funny. "So you've missed Seirin a lot?"
"Of course! Why wouldn't I? All my friends are there. Without Hayama-kun now, it's become a lot worse." Riko lay the red whistle on the palm of her hand. It fit snugly, like it belonged there.
Her father said, "But Hayama holds principles too different from you to ignore, isn't it? And these principles — they're reflected by all of Rakuzan?"
"Yeah, I suppose it is a Rakuzan thing. That's why it's becoming so hard to settle back in here. I mean, if I can no longer be comfortable around Hayama-kun, how can I possibly be happy? He's been part of my happiness." These last few words were but a whisper.
A long pause. "Riko...seeing you like this. It only confirms the worries I had since I first agreed to send you to Rakuzan. It really looks as though you can't belong there. I don't know why I didn't listen— no, I ignored my gut when those men first approached you." Regret was evident in his tone. "You're so unhappy, I don't want to see you continue this way anymore."
"Oh, come on Dad, don't worry, I'm perfectly all right —"
But he cut her off. "How would you like to transfer back to Seirin?"
____
The day of Rakuzan's matches was a clear, still one. The walls of the stadium seemed to simultaneously stretch and shrink with the sounds of cheers. The Rakuzan team had predictably beaten Senshinkan and were now facing Yosen for the semi-finals.
In and out, Hayama breathed. The rough pace of it was all he heard. As if he were alone in a dark room, or submerged underwater, rather than standing in a brightly lit stadium. A few feet away from him, Mibuchi exchanged glances with Nebuya.
"Kotarou-chan's playing very well, isn't he?" he said casually.
Nebuya didn't miss the slight worry in Mibuchi's voice. He agreed, "He's throwing his all into the game." Then he added meaningfully, "It's almost like he's trying not to think about something else."
Hayama suddenly stood up from where he was stretching his legs and went over to the pair. He thrusted a palm out at them. "Hey, pass me a ball. I wanna practise my dribbling."
"Sure, Kotarou!" replied Nebuya, his grin too wide. He picked up a ball but before it was even halfway over to Hayama, the orange-haired boy stole it from his hands. Within seconds, the rapid-fire bounce of the ball that could only be from Hayama's signature dribble reached their ears.
"Looking good, Kotarou-chan!" Mibuchi tried to say, but the encouragement remained unheard. The pair watched Hayama. It was like they were watching a wild animal, in preparation for ambush of a prey.
"The dumbass is gonna tire himself out." Mayuzumi's monotonous voice said what they were both thinking. "He shouldn't be playing at hundred percent intensity all the time. Moron." Like a full stop, he finished his sentence with a scoff.
"I'm sure Kotarou-chan understands that. Only he would know his body's limits, after all. Even more than we would," said Mibuchi. "Sometimes, though..." He trailed off.
Nebuya nodded. "Emotion is closer to the body than the mind is." He left it at that. Mayuzumi glanced away, his eyebrows arranging themselves into a deeper frown.
Soon, it was time for the match with Yosen. Akashi gathered them for a brief meeting.
Into every player's eye, he glared. "Later during the game, Atsushi won't be playing," he stated. "And I won't be either. Chihiro, you'll be starting. But you have to play without misdirection. It would be ridiculous if you need the technique to defeat a weak team." He told another Rakuzan player to take his place, then imparted several more specific directions on the strategy against Yosen.
Finally, he intoned, "I expect a victory."
Mibuchi stopped darting glances at Hayama. Nebuya's eyes narrowed. Mayuzumi's fingers clenched into fists. Those four words were all they needed. Already, visions of the game became all they saw.
The only player with no visible change in demeanour — was Hayama.
____
Days had passed since her conversation with her father, but Riko could still remember every part of it. Words had that effect of lingering unwantedly. Especially the ones that carried the weight of a crucial decision.
How would you like to transfer back to Seirin?
A simple question which would have prompted a simple answer from her merely a few weeks ago. Had it only been four months since she arrived at Rakuzan? It had seemed longer. Then again, time stretched endlessly when one was suffering. It only sped up, cruelly, in the fleeting moments of a smile and an accidental laugh. Hayama-kun made me laugh unintentionally all the time, thought Riko.
Logically, the choice was easy. She felt lonely because Hayama was no longer her friend. If she went back to Seirin, she'd have all her friends. Poof! Loneliness, gone. Sure, she'd miss Mayuzumi — but she could always meet up to talk to him. She had no doubt they could maintain their bond. Their friendship was unshakeable. Not like with Hayama. It had always been volatile, with Hayama.
You don't need Hayama-kun if you just go back to Seirin, Riko tried to tell herself. Seirin needed her. She forced herself to think about their painful loss to Kirisaki Dai Ichi.
The choice was so simple. It was so obvious. But something was stopping her from going back to the bliss she coveted so much. Something in the form of an orange-haired brat.
The Rakuzan team had come back triumphant from their win in the semi-finals. Their place in the finals had always been secure, Riko knew. Each player had stepped off the bus with pride etched in their features. Then came the regulars.
Akashi. Cool and calm, absolute certainty of victory on his handsome features. Mibuchi. He had offered her a cheerful smile the moment he saw her, and a thumbs up. Nebuya. He bumped her fist a little too hard. But the pain was worth it for the grin that split his face. Mayuzumi. A smirk, then a light brush of her fringe with his fingers. And, Hayama. He took one look at her, then winced.
"Congratulations, Hayama-kun," Riko had ventured, her fingers twitching as they clasped in front of her. Hayama nodded once, then he slouched away from her. She wasn't sure if he heard her say, "Good luck for the finals." The back of his head was not as expressive as the front.
If they'd been friends like normal, he probably would have grinned even wider than Nebuya. He probably would have jabbed both thumbs at himself, saying it was all thanks to him Rakuzan's victory was assured, even in the finals. He would have bounded at Riko like an overexcited puppy, and hugged her till her feet left the ground.
She decided to tell him about the possibility of her transferring.
That last part — he definitely would have done that.
____
"Hayama — wait up."
Hayama stopped where he was walking back towards his dorms, and turned to face Mayuzumi. This was the last voice in the world he wanted to hear. It always made him want to punch something. Preferrably the face from where the voice came from. He grunted in greeting.
Mayuzumi didn't look any happier. "What was with your performance during the Yosen match?"
"Huh? What're you talking about?"
Mayuzumi released an impatient sound. "You know what I'm talking about."
"No, I don't. Come on, I scored all the baskets in the final quarter. I single-handedly secured our victory against Yosen. Which is more than what you can say," Hayama muttered under his breath.
"I couldn't have scored because you weren't passing the ball to me. I was open so many times, but still you chose to dribble past the opponents. At one point there were three defenders marking you."
"So? I still got past them."
"That was idiotic."
Hayama took a step towards Mayuzumi. "What'd you say?"
"You heard me. It was an idiotic move. You should've passed the ball to an open teammate. Everyone could see you were much more tired than all of us combined. What would have happened if we had gone into extra time? You would've been too tired to play. Then we would have lost a lot of our firepower. You would have 'single-handedly secured' our loss." Mayuzumi spoke the two words in a sneer.
Hayama took another step forward and his hand grasped Mayuzumi's collar. "I'll pass the ball to you only when you deserve to get the ball." His voice was tight.
"How typical, and entirely expected of you." Mayuzumi scoffed. "Just like an immature child, you're blaming others for your own stupid decisions."
"You—"
"Kotarou." Akashi's single word caused him to release Mayuzumi. "I need to speak with you," Akashi continued, his face hard.
Mayuzumi glared at Hayama for a moment. Then, with narrowed eyes he glanced sideways at Akashi, and turned to leave. Akashi waited until Mayuzumi was no longer there.
"Chihiro is right," he then began. "Your behaviour during the Yosen match was unacceptably reckless. I understand if you have dedication and focus to win. Every player at Rakuzan needs this determination. It's why you are in the team to begin with. But when it causes you to ignore logic, it becomes mere idiocy. Kotarou."
Hayama looked up from the floor.
"If you continue with this idiocy, you may be expelled. I don't need such players on my team. Is that clear?"
"Yes, Akashi."
"I expect you to pass to anyone who is open, including Chihiro. I expect you to reserve your energy and not spend it all. I expect you to act with your head, not with your emotion. Is that clear?"
Hayama nodded. "Yes."
"Good."
Hayama nodded at Akashi again as farewell, then continued his way to the dorms. As he walked, slow as a ball which had lost its bounce, he didn't realise that his captain had missed out asking him one question on purpose. A specific question on his emotional stability. And he didn't realise that the inklings of self-doubt, of all things, was starting to trickle through Akashi.
When Hayama finally reached the door to his room, he saw an unexpected guest next to it. Riko, sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest.
The moment she saw Hayama, she smiled. "Hi Hayama-kun."
____
Riko couldn't help a smile. The smile had come naturally. Hayama had looked utterly dejected. She remembered many times Hayama's own grin had inspired many of her own. She wanted to do the same, for him.
His eyes widened at the sight of her. "Riko?! What— " He fumbled for a bit and the keys in his hand fell to the ground. Both of them kneeled down to reach for it.
Stooping down, Riko looked up once Hayama was at her eye level. "Can we talk?" she said.
His face was only a few inches away, so she could see every change in his expression. "Uh...sure." He glanced around him awkwardly, then gestured at the floor. "Have a seat," he said.
Riko stared at him.
He sighed. "My room's really messy. There are no empty chairs in there even if I let you in."
"Oh." Riko sat on the floor again, and Hayama moved in next to her. She felt his knee brushing against her thigh. Then it remained there, touching her. The memory of him cheering her up under the tree came back to her, that time her lowest point in Rakuzan when she had missed Seirin deeply. He had lifted the pain so easily.
Taking a breath, she said, "Hayama-kun, how were the matches?"
A shrug. "Fine." He paused to scratch his head. "I shot the most baskets."
"Of course! I wouldn't expect anything less."
Silence.
Hayama's knee fidgeted against her thigh. He cleared his throat, and ran his fingers through his hair. "So anyway, I'm sure you can get the details from Mayuzumi later, I kinda need to go—"
"I spoke to my father the other day," Riko said in a rush. Anything so that they could keep talking. "We had a really good discussion about...everything that's happened. And then he told me something. Something big." If they couldn't hang out like they used to, she would throw down the gauntlet. She would ask him if she should transfer back to Seirin. Perhaps this big risk could repair their friendship. His reaction to her father's offer was the decisive factor.
A no to the transfer would mean he just needed time. She would give it to him. She needed time herself, to accept their differences. And then they could begin a new relationship.
A yes, however — it would mean he had given up. It would mean their relationship before could not have withstood such profound divisiveness. "Irreconcilable differences", was the Hollywood term for it.
Riko drew another breath, then she took the plunge. "Hayama-kun, he told me I could transfer back to Seirin if I wanted to. What do you think?"