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On the day when Momoi Satsuki discovers she has been in love for approximately eighty nine percent of her sixteen-year-long life, she nearly questions her credibility as an analyst. However, it’s not even five minutes later that she regains the confidence in her skills, because they are geared to reading other people rather than herself, and to be quite honest, there isn’t that much to read in Dai-chan’s head in the first place, let alone anything that could have clued her in.
The discovery is intriguing on an intellectual level most of all. Momoi finds it most fascinating that apparently, humans are capable of holding this particular emotion, one that is associated with mystery and charm of the unknown, for someone they know like the back of their hand. She has always believed that she would be attracted to someone dreamy and defying rationalization, a magical prince who maintained his mysterious allure even in the face of her X-ray vision. Which is why, her memory supplies, back in middle school her imagination so readily latched onto Kuroko-kun, whose state of mind remained pretty impenetrable to her most of the time.
There is nothing mysterious about Dai-chan. He is a slacker, a lout, and a genius basketball player. He sleeps over ten hours a day, only passes his school tests on the coattails of Momoi’s notes, and has an average resting heart rate of 45 beats per minute. He has never prepared food once in his lifetime, claims to love his extensive collection of gravures but actually can’t remember which ones he has read before, and lets himself be bullied into shopping trips every other Sunday, even if he complains like an old man all the while. What is mysterious is that in the light of her newfound revelation, all of this information, previously neatly categorized as ‘assorted data’ or ‘childhood memories’, gets re-classified as ‘object of immediate romantic interest’ and snugly occupies a sizeable chunk of her brain.
She thinks it is not surprising that quite a lot of data undergoes this reassessment – after all, she has seen Dai-chan practically every day for most of her life, starting from that memorable incident when he put a bug in her hair on his first day at kindergarten. Neither is the fact that all of it starts holding her interest with a thrill reserved for most fascinating discoveries. She might still think that emotions go against all scientific laws, because there is literally no good reason for her to start feeling proud at knowing what ice-cream taste has been Dai-chan’s favourite since he was six (watermelon) or exactly how he falls asleep most of the time (with his arm against his eyes), and yet here she is, doing just that, and it feels like the most natural thing in the world.
What surprises her is that despite all of that, nothing changes at all, because Dai-chan is an idiot. He goes around just as clueless as before, sleeping through his classes, wiping the floor with everyone during practice, bullying Sakurai-kun into bringing him lunches, and grumbling at Momoi for nagging him, which is what he has always done at Touou. And at the end of the day, she is okay with that, because realistically speaking, the notion of dating Dai-chan would boil down to her nagging him to do all the boyfriend stuff, and she seriously has her hands full enough as it is.
Watching Dai-chan outrun all the opponents and send the ball flying into the hoop with a grin that makes him look like the most carefree person on earth, she affectionately thinks that it would have made so much more sense if it was literally any other guy she knows. Off the top of her head, Imayoshi-san is intelligent and intriguing, Sakurai-kun is kind and sort of cute, Midorin is stately, and falling for Ki-chan doesn’t even need any excuses whatsoever.
But then again, she knows that when Dai-chan plays like this on the court, he is the world’s most carefree and happy person, and this knowledge makes her heart light and warm.
That’s why she is content to do what she has always done. She smiles, tucks her clipbook closer to her chest, and watches over Dai-chan.
When the rest of the world starts showing signs of being less oblivious than one clueless basketball player and herself, Momoi questions her analytical skills for the second time.
It goes like this.
On Monday, Wakamtsu finds her in the library, where she’s doing her Chemistry homework during the break between classes.
“Oh, hello! So Imayoshi-san was right again, you are here, huh. Momoi-san, have you seen Aomine? Can’t find that bastard anywhere.”
“If he is not on the rooftop, then he is probably either on the bench by the school entrance, sleeping on the mats in the gym, or hanging out by the lockers,” she says without a pause. She looks at her watch and adds, “If that doesn’t help, you can wait until the lunch break, and then find Sakurai-kun. Aomine-kun will show up looking for food himself.”
“Thank you!!” Wakamatsu yells in relief, and then quickly claps his hand over his mouth with such a comically horrified expression that Momoi smiles to herself. Whoever thinks that boys grow up when they grow big hasn’t been looking well enough.
“Um, sorry, I was just- ” he shakes his head with a sheepish laugh. “I was so relieved to hear such clear instructions that I forgot what Imayoshi-san always told us.”
“And what did Imayoshi-san always tell you?” Momoi asks, curious.
“That we shouldn’t bother you over every little stupid thing, because you already do a lion’s share of work by babysitting that idiot,” he says gratefully. “Imayoshi-san said it’s Touou’s luck that even the smartest girl can be sweet on the dumbest dude.”
Momoi feels her mouth open in surprise, but before she can say anything, Wakamatsu’s face takes an exponentially more horrified expression than just a few minutes before, and he retreats from the library with all the dignity of a spooked cat.
Later the same day, when she meets Imayoshi-san in the school corridors, he doesn’t even have the decency to look embarrassed. With dismay, Momoi wonders if he has always looked at her with an expression of respect tinted with amusement and sympathy.
On Wednesday, Dai-chan drags her to some children’s playground with a basketball court near Seirin High, where he tells her he’ll waste his youth trying and failing to teach Kuroko to perfect his new technique. Momoi nods and thinks one doesn’t have to know Dai-chan half as well as she does to see how remarkably insincere his grumbling is.
She doesn’t mind accompanying him in the least, because when does she ever, and because she really likes Kuroko. Not romantically, no; her old crush on him has been sweet, idealistic and, evidently, not real a crush at all, but because he is nice to be around, kind and attentive.
After two hours of practice Kuroko looks so wrung-out that Dai-chan, who hasn’t even broken a sweat, wanders off to get them all drinks. Kuroko doesn’t look unhappy – his sincere love for the game has always allowed him to survive even the most grinding practices, and Momoi admires that – and comes over to her with a smile, wiping the sweat off his face with his wristbands.
“Momoi-san, how is my success rate?” he says, peeking curiously into her clipbook. A hopeless affair – her note-taking might be meticulous, but her hand-writing is messy bordering on cryptic.
“It’s not above 60% yet,” she answers, flipping between the pages. “But seeing how you started off with less than 20%, the dynamics of your improvement is pretty clear.”
He keeps on looking at her expectantly, wide-eyed with what is probably excitement (but could also be impatience or dejection at his progress rate, one could never be too sure with Kuroko), so Momoi feels compelled to continue.
“From what I can see, you are going in the right direction and should hit the 80% mark by the end of the next practice session, but I’m not sure I can give you a more detailed statistic break-down just yet,” she says with an apologetic smile. “I’m not feeling very confident in my analytical skills at the moment to give you an accurate prognosis.”
She says it with a small laugh, but Kuroko just nods solemnly.
“I understand, Momoi-san. Thinking about how to deal with Aomine-kun and your feelings about him does take a lot of effort, I know.”
Momoi blinks at him slowly, not quite comprehending. Did Kuroko mean that worrying about Dai-chan is a full-time job on its own – which is an honest-to-god truth, of course? Was he referring to her recent re-evaluation? Why did he say ‘I know’, what exactly does he know?
Looking at Kuroko’s serious face, Momoi thinks that being inscrutable does not always make people alluring. Sometimes it just means they are plain impossible to understand.
On Friday evening, she goes shoe-shopping with Ki-chan. After one look at her he says, “Oh honey,” hugs her tightly, and buys her the biggest bucket of strawberry ice-cream on the way back.
Momoi is unsure if she should feel sorry for herself or annoyed.
On Sunday, Touou has a practice match against Seirin, which means the boys get to goof off and Momoi gets to poke fun at their coach. Aida Riko is highly competent; an excellent strategist as well as ruthless manager, she could literally beat sense into a rowdy bunch of guys twice her size when necessary. Her iron will and no-nonsense attitude probably made her the toughest member on the Seirin team, and Momoi sincerely respects her for all these qualities. But at the same time, she could never resist taunting Riko, because it is positively adorable how easily Riko lets herself be ruffled whenever she thinks these very same traits implied she lacked feminine charm.
“The boys are sure lively today, they’ve been at it for three hours now,” Momoi says, flexing her arms and stretching her back. “Makes me want to move around for a bit myself, it’s hard to sit still when they’re so enthusiastic.” Right now, for example, Dai-chan and Kagami-kun are practically grappling for the ball under the hoop while their captains are yelling at them in sync.
“I don’t think you can run around like them,” Riko answers, trying not to glare jealously at the general area of Momoi’s chest. “You probably don’t want to get your girly clothes ruined.”
Momoi tilts her head and smiles sweetly. She doesn’t even need to say anything to goad Riko, who goes around picking fights over every little thing herself. Good thing Riko doesn’t realize how cute her boyish nature is, Momoi thinks, this just makes it so much more fun.
“Aw, Riko-san, I’m glad you like my clothes,” Momoi gives her best innocent smile and prepares to enjoy the show. But instead of the flustered stuttering she expects to see, Riko’s face goes an alarming shade of red and she jumps off the bench.
“Stop destroying school property, you idiots!” Riko yells, and Momoi groans as she sees Dai-chan and Kagami-kun both holding the hoop that is conspicuously not attached to the pole any longer.
“Daaaaai-chan! How many times did I tell you not to break the hoops when dunking!” Momoi stomps in frustration – seriously, how many times does that make it for this school year alone? - and turns to Riko. “Riko-san, I’m so sorry, we’ll - ” but Seirin’s coach waves off her apologies.
“I’m pretty sure Bakagami is at fault, too. Let me just get there, I’ll remind him how his ears hurt the last time he pulled off something like that,” Riko says, fuming and clearly ready to act on her words.
“Easy, Riko.”
Momoi looks up at Kiyoshi-san, who has somehow materialized by Riko’s side without anyone noticing, and is now towering above both of them with all of his two meters of good-natured attitude and easy-going smiles.
“But Teppei-”
“I’m sure they didn’t mean to do that, the guys were just too caught up in the game,” he says soothingly, not in the least deterred by Riko’s temper. “Am I right, Momoi-san?” he turns to smile at her, radiating cheerfulness.
“I see your point, Kiyoshi-san,” Momoi answers, fighting off the impulse to just nod, because Kiyoshi Teppei has a way with words that makes agreeing with him seem very easy, regardless of how logical that would be. “But practice match is not the time for such recklessness.”
“Reckless is what all hot-headed high school boys are,” Kiyoshi laughs. “It’s a good thing there are smart girls like you who can find enough love in your hearts to set the boys straight, isn’t it?”
He gives both girls his widest, sincerest smile and leaves. In a rare moment of camaraderie, Momoi and Riko look at each other, an unspoken ‘Where did that come from?’ hanging between them, before shrugging and letting it go. It didn’t seem to be the most logical conclusion, but apparently, that didn’t make it untrue.
At this point, Momoi hears raised voices that threaten to send heads flying into the broken hoop and decides to take a page out of Riko’s book, so she crosses the court to give Dai-chan a piece of her mind. She might not be capable of knocking heads together, but it doesn’t mean she hasn’t got different weapons on her.
“Dai-chan,” Momoi sing-songs with her best smile, and watches with satisfaction as he stops squabbling and steps back a little. Good, she thinks, and moves in a step closer. Even though he is the one who physically looms over her, she is not the one who is ever going to be intimated, so she tilts up her head and says pleasantly, “Dai-chan, you can keep backing off if you want everyone on the team – on both teams, actually – to hear what I’m going to say.”
The wary and somewhat guilty expression makes his face looks so much younger and sweeter, and Momoi tells herself to be firm even if her heart is melting at the sight, so she pulls him even closer to her by the hem of his t-shirt and speaks right into his ear, almost touching his warm neck with her cheek.
“Dai-chan, if you break one more hoop during practice games or real matches, I’m selling all of your gravure collection to cover the expenses.”
“Oi, Satsuki!” he straightens his back, and yes, that is the same look he had as a kid frantically trying to remember what exactly he was being scolded for and how he could weasel out of it. “You wouldn’t!”
“All of it,” Momoi smiles serenely, “including the two stashes you think I don’t know about.”
Clearly, there are some things that are beyond the grasp of analysts, Momoi thinks as she admires the adorably grumpy look on Dai-chan’s face. This week alone she has seen enough to convince her that intellect alone was powerless in the face of some things.
But she is prepared to wait and see. There is a lot that an analyst can do with enough time on their hands, after all.