💫流れ💫

  A loud, clear declaration like Honoka's should be met with equally loud, clear cheers, but instead she is met with Nico blabbering away about how she pulled the short stick on purpose, and Umi shaking like a leaf in a corner.

  "You girls are all useless," cries Nico, "that's why you need my special Nico-nii protection! I'm doing this for you, and I ain't scared at all!"

  Rin pokes at her legs. "Really? Your legs are like jelly, nya."

  "This is the end," comes Umi's dramatic exclamation, and she falls into Maki's arms "There is no way I can make it out alive...goodbye, my friends."

  "Umi, you’re exaggerating."

  None of them are let off the hook, unfortunately, and are forced into the haunted house. The door closes with a 'creak', and an ominous howl welcomes them in. They are both holding on to each other.

  "W-w-why are there even haunted houses in November?" Umi whimpers. "This is a terrible idea, why on earth did I agree to send anyone in here?"

  "You were the one who suggested having the next song have the theme of fear and love!"

  "I did not!"

  Nico sighs. "Well, there's nothing we can do," she says, taking a few steps forward into the dark, dark room ahead, "just hold on to me and-kya!"

  Amidst the darkness, a figure with the most grotesque of masks leaps out, attempting to scare the living lights out of the two girls. Nico and Umi clutch each other, shrieking at the top of their lungs until the figure retreats.

  "Oh my God," says Nico, "that's only the first one?"

   Umi turns around. "The doors are shut...we have to move forward."

  “I don’t want to!”

  “We have no choice...”

  They do, hand in hand. As they advance through the pitch black hell, they are constantly bombarded by cackling puppets and besieged by sinister animatronics. Umi's hand never leaves Nico's.

  Half-way through the trail, Umi squeezes it. "Um, Nico, thank you very much."

  "Huh?" A zombie hurtles past them, and Nico startles. "For what?"

  "You've been putting up a brave front for me, so I thought I'd thank you. I know we both are terrified, and I cannot express in words how upset I am with Honoka for putting me through this, but having you here with me makes it better."

  Nico snorts, sidestepping a pile of convincingly red blood. "What do you think you'll get from buttering me up?"

  "Nothing!" Umi squeezes Nico's hand again, fiercer this time. "You've just been taking the lead the whole time here and - gash! - well, it's not expected of you to do so. You're very dependable, and I don't think we give you enough credit, so thank you, truly."

  "What's this, huh?" A smirk stretches itself on Nico's lips. "You can be cute too, Umi! It's nothing to be thanked for, Nico has to look after her little unit member after all!"

  "What do you mean I can be cute too?"

  Nico sticks out her tongue, though she doubts Umi can see her taunt through the darkness. "Nothing, nothing! C'mon, let's get through this faster!"

  "A-alright, wait up."

  As they run along the house of horrors, hands never leaving each other, she can feel her heart composing a unique melody of exhilaration, adrenaline and companionship. The hand she holds is warm, and she wonders if Umi can hear it too.

  "Kya!"

 Dia scans the answer, and clasps her hands together. "Exactly! I'm surprised how fast you understood this concept, Hanamaru-san; it took me ages to. What a clever girl!"

 "Nah, it's just that Maru has Dia-chan to teach her. Thank you, zura!"

 She smiles to herself, placing the worksheet down to continue on to the next question. When Ruby was stuck in the topic of polynomials, Hanamaru jumped on the chance and persuaded her to ask her sister to teach the both of them. It'll be much more productive, Hanamaru had declared, and Ruby doubtfully followed through. After an hour of work, however, Ruby got tired of Dia's Spartan teaching methods and snuck off.

 In truth, Hanamaru had expected just that. She isn't the most manipulative or crafty of girls, but there is just a certain glamour of Dia's that has her heart fluttering and hoping for more. Dia is smart, gorgeous and has a fiery personality to the boot; perfection itself. As she spends more time with Dia, her respect and admiration for her best friend's attractive older sister has manifested into a full-blown crush.

 "Hanamaru-chan, onee-chan, you're still going at it?" The door opens, and Ruby wobbles into Dia's room with a tray of refreshments. "How long has it been already?"

 Hanamaru reaches over for a cookie as Dia retorts, "Long enough for us to go over two more topics. You're missing out a lot, Ruby!"

 "Ah, I'm sorry..."

 “It doesn't matter that much. I'll go through these with you later once Hanamaru-san has gone home!"

 "E-eh?"

 Dia and Ruby's back and forth banter is background noise for Hanamaru; her gaze drifts over to the walls of Dia's room. Photo frames of the years of her life decorate them - Polaroid shots of an infant Ruby, picture frames of a graduating Dia and photo after photo of the young third years. They smile and laugh and wink, happy and in love in each shot.

 But there happens to be an unusually blank area on the crammed wall, where leftover bluetack still remains, a hint of something more. In the middle there lies supposedly the limelight of the room and Dia's collection: a goddess by the name of Matsuura Kanan.

 The girl wears the most ornate of flower crowns, and seems to be absolutely delighted about it. Her hands reach up to graze the blossoming petals, and her lips quirk into a smile so radiant it touches her eyes, lighting up with a glossy sheen.

 Dia follows Hanamaru's gaze. "Hanamaru-san! That's...that's just a picture of Kanan-san. I have many more of Mari-san and myself, please d-"

 "It's alright, Dia-chan," Hanamaru cuts her off simply. Her fingers fly up and smooth the picture. "She is very pretty; you don't have lie to me, zura."

 Dia's lips part, then they clamp down, wobbling. She pushes her hair back, and her voice is a tad hardier than usual. "Well, let's continue."

  It's impossible. Ruby peeks out through her fingers, and her flushed reflection blinks back at her.

  "You've got to do it, Ruby," she tries to tell herself as sternly as possible, "this has gone on long enough! Even if you can't confess, you've got to...got to...at least ask her on a date!"

  The thought of just she and Yoshiko all alone on a date, sharing a drink together and holding hands seizes her, and Ruby is an even bigger spluttering mess. She waves her hands about to calm herself down, then takes a deep breath.

  She's going to do it.

  The bathroom door swings shut behind her, and Ruby takes little wobbly steps to her classroom. Her hands quiver limply, and her voice comes out as a whisper as she peers into the class, "Y-Yoshiko-chan?"

  "Yoshiko-chan's not here, zura," Hanamaru replies, and Ruby nearly falls to the ground. She got all worked up for nothing!

  "I see. Has she gone home already?"

  Hanamaru smiles and flips the page of the book in her hands. "I wonder..."

  Disappointment sticks to the pit of her stomach, and Ruby trudges over to her desk. At this rate, her feelings will never reach Yoshiko. She might as well give up...

  "Eh?"

  There's a note on her desk that had not been there earlier. Ruby leans over to take a closer look, and reads the hasty scribbling, "Ruby, meet me on the roof when you read this... Eh? What?"

  "Wow, who wrote that? What could they possibly want?" comments Hanamaru, and she hides the large smile that plays on her lips behind her book.

  The fingers gripping the note stiffen. "It's probably Yoshiko-chan! I'll go find her!"

  Ruby breaks into a dash out of class, the note clutched to her chest as if her feelings are tangible and she doesn't want to lose them; not one bit. Her feet patter against the ground and pound against the stairs. As she nears the top, her breath catches in her throat and Ruby skids to a halt.

  'What should I do?' she wonders to herself, panic starting to set in. 'Should I be casual? Should I confess to her once she finishes with whatever she wants from me? Oh no no, that's too forward!'

  Her fingers twirl about her pigtails, and she wipes at her nose. There, all set! Now she just needs to dig up the dredges of courage residing in the nooks and crannies of her body and push open the door to confront Yoshiko...

  The door creaks open, and Ruby winces. From the corner of her eye she catches sight of Yoshiko's back, the dark cloak flapping around in the summer breeze. Yoshiko turns, an assorted bouquet of white flowers greeting Ruby.

  "W-what's th-"

  "My beloved little demon, Ruby," says Yoshiko, striding over to Ruby. "These-" she holds out the bouquet, eyes sliding away "-are for you."

  Ruby receives it, face scarlet. "Thank you very much."

  "Y'know, Ruby," Yoshiko continues. Her empty hands fumble with each other, and Ruby wonders if of all people, Yoshiko is nervous. "Ruby, you're very cute, and nice to me. I was wondering if maybe you'd like to go out for tea or something, together."

  This unexpected request takes Ruby aback, and she soaks up the moment in silence. Yoshiko, however, takes Ruby's muted surprise as rejection, and her hands fall to her sides. "I-it's okay if you're not interested. A cute girl like Ruby wouldn't want to be seen dead with me..."

  "That's not right!" Fear, courage, they no longer matter; Ruby just wants to reassure Yoshiko. "Ruby likes Yoshiko-chan lots and lots, and really wants to go out with Yoshiko-chan. I just didn't know... how to tell you..."

  Yoshiko too needs to process this, and then the widest smile breaks open on her face. "Ah, really? Yohane likes Ruby a lot too..."

  They both gaze at each other and giggle nervously. Ruby sticks her face in the overflowing bouquet and takes in a deep breath. "These are lovely!"

  "Is that so? I don't have flower sense, but I thought white flowers suit you, that's why." 

 Having been scorned and forcibly thrown out from the place she once called home, it is only Yohane would be doomed to lead a lonely life. Heck, she's never had a best friend, her other half, someone to rely on!

 And now she's fifteen! A first year! In high school! To think that she has no close friends, is this going to continue until she lies on her deathbed? To live a miserable and unmemorable life without friends? Yohane won't accept it!

 Yet it seems as if she is to accept such a fate. Yohane reeks of loneliness. Thanks to her disappearance in the early days of her first year, most of the girls in her class have already settled in their respective cliques, and there's no place for her.

 Ruby and Hanamaru were nice enough to include her with them, but Yohane can't deny how much of an outsider she is to this closely-knit friendship. Even as she chatters away with them, she can feel her body set apart and an emptiness and longing within her heart.

 Aqours is also where Yohane feels out of place. The third years are 'three peas in a pod' while Riko the city girl has long assimilated into her spot with the bubbly childhood friends Chika and You. And then there's the inseparable Ruby and Hanamaru.

 There's nowhere for Yohane.

 "Hey, let's all go out for ice cream!" Chika says after practice. The Aqours members chime in agreement, but Yohane presses her lips into a tight grimace.

 "Sorry guys, there's a lot of homework today, so I'll have to miss it," she tells them, her shoes scuffing the dirt. "Please don't hold back."

 As she leaves the group, Hanamaru comments, visibly confused, "We didn't have homework today, zura."

Alone, alone; again she is alone. The vast ocean before her reaches out languidly, and retracts with a sigh. "You have no one," it seems to mock her.

 Yohane gathers a fistful of pebbles, and hurls one at the ocean. It skips, once, twice, thrice before sinking into the pits of the ocean.

 "Amazing!"

 Yohane whips around, surprised to find Riko next to her, clapping in wonder at the 'feat'. "How did you do that?" asks Riko with a demure little smile.

 "T-that's easy!" Yohane replies unsurely. "Besides, what are you doing here, Lily?"

 Riko's cheeks grow pink from the nickname, and she crouches down, eye-level with Yohane. "That's what I was supposed to ask. What's wrong, Yoshiko-chan?"

 Yohane isn't one to spill her life story at the drop of a hat, but there is something comforting about Riko's presence, something that makes the corner of her eyes tingle and lips part to tell a tale.

 "Yohane feels...I feel very alone. Like I don't belong anywhere. As if I am to be swallowed up by my solitude."

 There is a heavy pause, and those words sour at the roof of her mouth.

 "Well, not that Lily understands!" Yohane quickly cuts in. "After all, Lily is super cute and popular!"

 "I do."

 Riko's gaze is ahead, focused on the impending waves, but Yohane can feel it, can feel her, and her heart calms. "Isn't it strange, Yoshiko-chan? To be so ordinary that you can fit in everywhere, but nothing feels right? Sometimes even when you're surrounded by friends, you feel so alone...”

"Y-yeah."

 "I feel that very often," says Riko, tucking strands of hair behind her ear. "It appears we're not too different after all, Yoshiko-chan."

 Yoshiko looks away; Riko's smile is too bright. "It's Yohane."

 "Well, Yohane, why don't we hold hands...until we're both not lonely anymore?"  She reaches out.

 And Yohane takes the hand.

Now, ten years later, Nico feels just as small as she was at seventeen, heart thundering in her chest and hands trembling in anticipation, of the storm before her.

The stage thunders with soulful music, the voice wielding mystical power striking the chords of Nico's heart - the voice of MAKI.

"Next!" commands security, and slowly, Nico can see.

She sees the tufts of warm hair, piled on top of each other as messy and familiar as always. She sees piercing eyes, winking in a smile and flashing with gratitude. She sees lips - plush, pink, pretty - quirk into a polite smile she never saw before.

Closer, closer; Nico's only meters away. Once upon a time, this distance was nothing; not when their fingers are laced, and Maki's so close Nico can smell her shampoo. But now-

"Next!"

The last person before Nico makes way, and the road ahead is clear. In all her glory is Nishikino Maki, perched on her seat and twirling a Sharpie in her hand. "Hello," she chirps, beckoning Nico forth.

Nico almost has to pinch herself. 'Don't be ridiculous,' she tells herself, 'this is MAKI, the most up and coming idol. She's not the Maki you know."

"I-I'm your biggest fan," says Nico and slides the CD over for MAKI to sign.

MAKI receives the CD and directs a smile right at Nico. "Thank you for your support!"

Nico wonders how many times MAKI has repeated those robotic, too-good-to-be-true lines, scribbling her signature away on her latest album.

"Your name?"

"H-huh?" MAKI taps the album with her marker. "Y'know, your name? For me to sign?"

"Oh!" Nico goes in embarrassment, but her cheeks are hot, hot, hot, and the crazed heart in her chest is leaping about like a frog. 'This is your chance,' it chatters against her ribcage, 'tell her! Tell her you're Yazawa Nico, the girl who's had feelings for you ten years ago, and ten years later! Tell her!'

Her lips part, and she can feel the immensity of the world's weight on her shoulders. "Y-Y-Yazawa."

That's all that leaves her mouth. When she realizes it, the pause has already been too long for anything to be done; MAKI passes the album back to her with no sign of recognition. "Thank you for coming, Yazawa-san!"

"No, thank you, MAKI."

It hurts. Her fist is a tight ball of emotions, and it takes all Nico has to restrain herself from screaming at MAKI, 'That's not what you called me! I'm not Yazawa-san!'

But she bites her tongue and slinks away without a second look. 'It figures,' she tells herself, struggling to justify the tears pricking the corners of her eyes. 'After all, it's been ten years. Maki's now the hottest idol in the industry. How could she - why would she - remember someone as insignificant as me?'

Nico takes a deep gulp of air, and walks out of the arena. Chin up, Yazawa Nico. You're strong. You're brave. It just wasn't meant to be.

She's so lost, so wounded that her head is in the clouds, and Nico doesn't see Maki slam the table as she jumps to her feet, nor hear her cry out.

  When it comes to birthdays, it's always Kotori who initiates them, plans them and then bakes a big, big celebratory cake. Hanayo can almost taste the delicious butter mochi cake Kotori had prepared specially for her, and her mouth waters at the thought.

  It greatly surprises everyone to know that Honoka and Umi have never initiated, planned or baked a cake for Kotori on her birthday.

  "Never really thought about it," confesses Honoka, laughing. "Umi-chan and I always just bought premade cake and surprise! Happy birthday, Kotori-chan!"

  Umi nods, cheeks red with shame. "Yes, we never thought twice about how much effort she spent into making each and every of our birthdays special."

  "I-I'll do it!"

  That's when Hanayo shoots up from her seat, and blurts it out. "I-I mean..." She immediately sits back down and fiddles with the hem of her skirt. "Kotori-chan is always very kind to us, and I think I'd like to repay her kindness...by baking a cake for her."

  "That's very sweet of you, Hanayo-chan," Nozomi approves. "Let's all make it the best birthday for Kotori-chan!"

  "Yeah!"

  Hanayo winds back up in her kitchen, staring dumbly at the recipe. Japanese cheesecake is without a doubt Kotori's favourite dessert, and more often than not she is seen snacking away on her homemade cheesecake. Hanayo feels a little nervous; out of the remaining eight μ's girls, she's definitely one of the better cooks, but she's definitely not as good as Kotori!

  "I don't know what to do!" she wails to Rin over the phone. "What if the cake is horrible? I'll ruin her birthday!"

  Rin giggles. "Don't be silly, Kayo-chin. Kotori-chan will love you all the same, good cake or bad cake!"

  With only thoughts of Kotori's unconditional love in her mind, Hanayo bakes. The aroma of oven-baked treats wafts throughout her apartment twenty-four seven, and the moment she arrives home she would make a beeline to her kitchen, hoping to test out the new cheesecake recipes she found online or make use of tips she has learnt.

  "It looks pretty good already," comments Maki as she samples Hanayo's cheesecake. "And tastes good too!"

  "It's not good enough! The roof is still cracked! The flavour is not rich enough! The texture is not fluffy enough! What am I going to do, her birthday is tomorrow?"

  Resources are finite and time is a-ticking; before Hanayo knows it, she has baked her last cheesecake with a top smooth as velvet.

  As she pauses outside the clubroom, heart pounding with trepidation, she can hear party horns being blown, and laughter flitting through the walls.

  She wants Kotori to like it.

  The door opens, and the girls turn to welcome her. She takes her first step in, legs wobbling like jelly. The fragrance seizes control of the room, and everyone's attention is on the cake box in Hanayo's trembling hands, especially Kotori, who looked so happy she could die.

  One step, two step, three step...

  It's going well; she's about to place the cake box safely on the table, when her legs give way and she shrieks, sliding to the floor.

  The cake box flies out of her hands, and a string of gasps run through the girls as it reaches its peak, and crashes down with a 'splat!'.

  Silence follows, and Hanayo bursts into tears.

  "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

  The girls rush over to comfort her, but the tears sting her eyes and she can't breathe.

  No one notices that Kotori is nowhere near Hanayo until she approaches her, a hand cupping her damp cheek. "Hanayo-chan, don't cry..."

  "B-b-but why?" Hanayo can barely face Kotori. "I ruined your birthday! I worked so hard on your cake - for nothing!"

  "That's not true!" Kotori exclaims, and when Hanayo glances at Kotori again, her cheeks are full with...is that cake? "The cheesecake might be smushed, but that's okay! What counts the most is the lots and lots of feelings Hanayo-chan has crammed into this cake!"

  Hanayo blinks, surprise drying her tears as Kotori takes another bite of the chunk in her hand.

  "It's delicious."

"H-huh?" Nico jolts when the body leaves her shoulder, and her vision is replaced with disappointed eyes and a frown bordered a pout. "Of course I have been! Y'know, acids and alkalis give salt and carbon dioxide and...uh..."

Eli moves away from Nico, and her hand finds her temple. "Oh Nico," Eli says, "we went through the chapter on acids and bases ages ago! Besides, acids and alkalis produce salt and water, not carbon dioxide!"

Eli's voice churns guilt in Nico's stomach, and she turns away sharply to hide her hot cheeks.

"It's not like I can help it!" Nico protests. "Nico's not meant to be a student, but a super idol! Why should I have to learn about salts and moles and exploding metals? I don't get it, and I don't have any motivation to get it!"

Nico folds her arms, challenging Eli. Eli simply purses her lips, almost as if she is deep in thought.

"I want to help you," Eli tells Nico, the tinge of desperation in her voice tightening Nico's stomach walls. "Our final exams are coming, yet you are still tirelessly practicing for μ's next live, without telling either Nozomi or I about your difficulties in understanding the syllabus, especially chemistry. I'm worried; I care about you, Nico."

Eli's voice is soft, yet it is so large, so loud that it consumes Nico. She opens her mouth to make an apologetic, perhaps as snide as always too, remark, when Eli's eyes glaze over with devilish mirth, and she sashays closer to Nico.

"Huh, what are-"

Then Eli drops forward, and presses her lips against Nico's forehead. A squeak starts in Nico's throat, and the surprise squeezes her eyes shut.

After some time, the sensation left her, and Nico peeks out from her lidded eyes.

"Are you motivated now?"

"Maybe." Nico kicks against the table, fidgeting incessantly. "I mean, you identify an iodine ion with silver chloride solution, right? And then you get a yellow precipitate."

  Nico is, unsurprisingly enough, the one who grimaces. She goes 'Hup!', heaving Rin to the air momentarily before she is set back into Nico's arms in hopefully a more comfortable position.

  Rin cries out again, "That hurt even more, Nico-chan you meanie!"

    "Hey now," Nico warns as Rin beats her back feebly, "who's the one doing you a great favour and lugging your heavy butt all the way to the nurse's office, huh? If you want it to hurt less, maybe stop wiggling around so damn much, you rascal!"

  Complying to Nico's orders for once, Rin settled down, sniffling. As Nico takes step after step down the seemingly endless staircase, Rin sticks out her injured leg between Nico's flank and arm. It quivers slightly, more and more blood welling up on the fresh wound. But it does hurt less now, and this is apparent from Rin's sheepish grin.   "You're pretty good at this kind of stuff, aren't you-nya?" Rin says in an attempt to keep the conversation going.

  "Of course! I'll have you know I'm the worlds best idol, Nico-nii! Everything is a but a feat!" exclaims Nico, then her voice chills into sardonic laughter. "More so that I have not one, not two, but three! Three rambunctious little siblings who've had their fair share of falls, and guess who has to dry their tears and mop them up?"

  "Eh, so Nico-chan is the domestic type? You'll make a good wife then-nya."    Nico splutters. "Wife? That's thinking too far ahead, Rin!"

  "Y'know," Rin rambles on nonetheless, her gleaming eyes thoughtful, "Nico-chan can be really cheesy and lame at times-" in retaliation, Nico tightens her grip on Rin's legs, and Rin squeaks from the pain "-and mean too-nya! But Nico-chan actually has a big, big, big heart and is quite mature. And I loooove Nico-chan!"

  "Huh?"

  "Don't you love Rin too? That's why you offered to help piggyback me when I fell down, and that's why you're panting from Umi-chan's grueling training earlier and now from carrying heavy old me."

  "I-It can't be helped," says Nico, her cheeks hot. "Eli and Nozomi are busy with student council work, and as the oldest, I can't let the rest of the clumsy lot carry you to the nurse's office!"

  Rin just nuzzles into Nico's neck, her loose hair tickling the back of it. "Thank you, Nico-chan. You're the best-nya."

  If it wasn't for the fact that it was near her house, pretty affordable and had a pleasant ambience to the boot, Nico would never frequent this coffee shop. Ever.

  "It's the blasted barista," Nico had explained one day, her teeth grinding against each other with thinly concealed fury. She took a sip from her plastic cup, glugging the black coffee she needed to damn near survive the day with. Next to her, Honoka followed suit, and damn near exploded in delight. "You have no idea how much I hate her!"

  Honoka tipped her head in confusion. "What makes her so terrible, Nico-chan?"

  "This!" exclaimed Nico, thrusting her cup into Honoka's field of view. In plain sight was a name scrawled in a black Sharpie in a haphazard manner, a name that was definitely not N-I-C-O. Nico crushed the empty cup, seething. "The audacity of the barista! I made it a point to tell her my name was NICO, YAZAWA NICO, the first few times! But she's either stone deaf or enjoys being a complete asshole, because not only does she remember me as some other name, she's influenced everyone else in the coffee shop to know me as such! Just you wait-" at this juncture, Nico balled up her fist and grinned at it in a sick mix of rage and rapture "-because I've had enough of this! The next time I see her smug little face, I'm going to settle this - once and for all!"

  "Good luck, Nico-chan," was all Honoka had said, rather wisely, and it is only when Nico enters the coffee shop and makes eye contact with her that she realised how badly she needs it.

  "Wah! Welcome back, Miko-chan!" The barista's eyes positively lit up the moment the bells chimed and Nico walked in as surreptitiously as possible. "You're earlier today aren't you, Miko-chan? You must have been dying to see me."

  Nico scoffs. As if.

  She storms forward, eyes dark with heavy clouds that threatened to erupt anytime; all the barista sees is sunny blue skies.

  "The usual?"

  "Let me cut to the chase-" Nico's eyes flickers over to the barista's name tag "-Tojo-san. I've had e-"

  The barista beamed. "Nozomi is fine."

  "Tojo-san, I-"

  "I insist, <i>Nozomi</i>!"

  "Fine!" snarls Nico. "Let me cut to the chase, <i>Nozomi</i>! I've been visiting this coffee shop for say, five to six months, now? And since day one, you have been calling me Miko-chan, Miko-chan, Miko-chan! My name is not Miko! It's Nico! Yazawa Nico!

  "How many times do I have to tell you, huh? I bet even if I drill it into your thick skull I'll still be the grumpy but pretty Miko-chan! And I'll always be the grumpy but pretty Miko-chan, even to your coworkers!"

  As Nico rants, Nozomi's eyebrows quirk up, and her lips form a cheeky 'o'. Nico couldn't give a damn about how cute she looks.

  "But not anymore, Nozomi, not anymore! Today is the day I finally settle the score. If you don't write N-I-C-O on my cup, I will...I will..."

  Long out of breath and her train of thoughts crashing into a blank wall, Nico fumbles for the words, basking in the attention of the patrons, and Nozomi.

  Then the attention is stolen by Nozomi's giggles, a string of bells, that chime through the coffee shop, good-naturedly, apologetically.

  Nozomi clasps her hands together, and her eyes fix on Nico. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't know! People do say I'm a little oblivious sometimes..."   From the snort of the other barista beside Nozomi, Nico thinks otherwise.

  "But you know what? Now I'll remember your name forever, okay Nicocchi?"

  Nico scrunches her face together, right foot gyrating against the ground. "N-Nicocchi?"

  "Yeah," says Nozomi, not really paying much attention as she goes on about making Nico's coffee, "well, I did think Miko-chan is a prettier name, but I do think Nicocchi suits you."

  "Why, because I'm not pretty?"

  "Nah, because Nicocchi's really cute! Just like her name."

    If it wasn't for the fact that it was near her house, pretty affordable and had a pleasant ambience to the boot, Nico would never frequent this coffee shop. Ever.

  Ryota isn't the best at arithmetic, but he's 98.75% (down to the second decimal place) positive that sometime somehow he had ingested a tub full of creepy crawlies.

  They now reside within the crook of his stomach, lazily flapping their papery wings. A few of them buzz, hushed, bouncing around within the empty darkness of his body and moistness of aqueous gastric acid.

  He feels light, fuzzy, and about to throw up. The last time he felt like this, it was when he was inches away from kissing Kuroko, when he gazed into Kuroko's equally dazed eyes and nearly cried, when his heart was pounding like a twenty-pound jackhammer, rattling the bones of his ribcage furiously.

  And then when he kissed him, the dastardly insects, as if sorcery, vanished in an instant, escaping from his tortured body that way air diffused, and water osmosis-ed (if that's even a thing).

  Ryota reaches up to feel his lips, and wonders if he'll be able to kiss Kuroko again. Hopefully not when he's still this jittery.

  "Kise-kun."

  "Ah!" goes Ryota in surprise, but he relaxes at the sight of Kuroko beside him. "Kurokocchi, y-you really need to stop giving people heart attacks!"

  "I'm sorry," Kuroko says, pretending the smile playing on his lips belongs to his usual deadpan, "but Kise-kun should be more observant from now on."

  He takes Ryota's hand, and he's no longer hiding his smile. It blooms the way a flower extends its petals in the morning light; delicate, beautiful, pure. "I mean, now that we're going out."

  A thousand arrows are simultaneously aimed and fired at Ryota's chest, and he is transfixed.

  He can barely believe his ears, and the warmth of Kuroko's blunt confession and radiant smile creeps onto his face.

  "Eh? W-w-we are? I mean, I had a feeling we were but-"

  The insects didn't disappear like the last time; this time, they stayed, and Ryota could distinct what they were.

  Like a gradient of light, their little wings bat, and their bodies glow, filling the pits of Ryota's stomach with emotion, tingling and, of course, light.

  They say when you're nervous you get butterflies in your stomach. Ryota's got fireflies.

  He glows, positively, absolutely, passionately, his stomach churning and his fireflies wandering, his fingers fizzing and his lips spreading.

  Kuroko says, with conviction, "We are."

  "Really? That's fantastic!" cheers Ryota, throwing his hands away from Kuroko's and into the air. Then he lowers them, and peers at Kuroko from under his long lashes. "So I can kiss Kurokocchi whenever I want?"

  Kuroko's eyes slide away. "Not in public, however."

  "Eh? Why?"

As he watches Kamui weep over the corpse of the once Crown Prince of Nohr, Ryoma ponders.

He knows he isn't a particularly good man, nor a bad one, but when Kamui talks about Prince Xander - or at least, the Prince Xander she knew from the days robbed from Hoshido, Kamui paints everything and everyone other than Xander in dull light.

"He's fantastically strong," she chattered away, eyes starry like the night's canopy that hung over them, "I couldn't imagine him losing to anyone, not even you, Ryoma. But in spite of his overwhelming might, he has the most kind of spirit, and gold of heart, and pure of love. I just wish-" and the way it always did when she winded up talking about Xander, with the stars in her eyes fading out and twitching ears drooping "-oh, I just wish he didn't, he could've, he-"

In the abyss between them, Ryoma reached over and pulled her into the tightest hug of his existence, as if he could fill the void the cursed Crown Prince of Nohr had left.

Standing before a Kamui he didn't know could cry so terribly, he realises he couldn't - he never could.

'If,' he thinks to himself, 'if Kamui had sided with Nohr...and if I had been the one to die in her hands...would her tears be burdened with infinite grief? Would her hands be as searching, as gentle as they are?'

He scrutinises her a little longer, watching the shattered tears descend faster than light, blending with the still warm blood that defiled his entity, longing for the pale hands that traced Xander's hair, face, body, lips and shook with unspeakable regret.

His sky is distant.

A far cry from the Nohrian summers which, in all honesty, were barely any different from Nohrian springs, autumns and winters, the only semblance of seasonal warmth being the thin ribbons of light which shone through clumps of brooding clouds more than usual.

An even further cry from the Hoshidan summers, where the sun was so bright and round that Hoshidans both adored and loathed it, where the waters were shimmering with the reflection of light and beckoning with promise of refreshment and satisfaction, where the days are balmy and glorious and happy.

No, the sky he lives under, the one which only his eyes are tainted by, is dark, darker and colder than even Nohrian winters, and ridden with melancholy and destruction. There is not a day when the ‘sun’ produces even a glimmer of light, nor when rain would gently fall and wash away the pain. The ground he treads on is a minefield of thistles, of thorns and brambles and HATRED.

Day after day he walks on, mind jumbled with unspeakably insufferable thoughts, body aching from old wounds never healed, and wondering if there were skies of others equally as melancholic, yet never trying to find out.

He lives under this sky, and will die under this sky.

So when Leo reaches out, trying to enter this lonely, forsaken world, he shuns him. He finds himself running away (running from who?) and making his sky more distant that it already is.

‘Don’t touch me,’ he screams, hurling Leo’s hand away as if it were plague, ‘please don’t touch me, don’t try to…don’t try to-‘

  There’s probably a word for the sound of a volleyball slapping against the sweat-stained arms of a player, and soaring up into the air. And there’s probably a word for how damn good it feels when it lands neatly on the other side of the court, infiltrating the swooping defences of the opposing teammates.

  “Damnnnnnnn!” howls Bokuto in pure agony, falling to his knees. “So close!”

  “You were nowhere near it, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi interjects snidely, but his voice is tinged with amazement of one who had witnessed something spectacular.

  Yet no one was as bubbling with emotion as Shoyo, who continued staring, awestruck, at the small fraction of the court the ball had contacted.

  His head whipped up, face an almost surreal picture.

  “T-t-that’s awesome, Kuroo-san!” he bleats. “Y-you know, when the ball goes ‘Piah!’ against your skin, and 'Whoosh!’ goes into the air hurtling at the speed of light. And then, and then! The ball shoots down even faster and with a 'Kapiah!’ which is ten times more intense! Even though the 'Piah!’ was intense already! You’re really intense, Kuroo-san! No, you’re really-” Shoyo takes in a deep, deep breath, nostrils flaring in delight “-you’re really amazing!”

  The barrage of words had shocked Kuroo, and momentarily, he is rendered speechless.

  The court is quiet, before Tsukishima interjects, with a snort, “We don’t speak 'Stupid’, Hinata.”

  Shoyo’s face burns, and finds himself stuttering wildly again, trying to explain. But as Bokuto and Lev defend Shoyo, Shoyo keeps his gaze on Kuroo, looking at him as if the stars in his shining brown ears weren’t manifested from the life within him, but as if they were reflected off the wondrous holiness before him.

  The wondrous holiness that is Kuroo.

  Kuroo grins; there is a word for the sound of a volleyball slapping against the sweat-stained arms of a player, and soaring up into the air, and a word for how damn good it feels when it lands neatly on the other side of the court, infiltrating the swooping defences of the opposing teammates.

  Kuroo knows them now.

  If there was one thing Akashi did not expect, it would be this.

  It is already late morning, perhaps pushing into noon, when he receives the text. He opens it, and is mildly surprised not to find another birthday wish, instead a message from Mibuchi.

  ‘Sei-chan,’ it reads, ‘a few of the regulars have gathered in the gym, and we hope for you to join us.’

  His eyes light up at the realisation, and he can’t help but smile to himself. “Oh,” he muses, and then types a quick confirmation to Mibuchi.

  He didn’t expect for his teammates to do anything in particular for his birthday. He truly didn’t. No matter how highly he may rate himself, Akashi isn’t one to explicitly ask for something like that; he is a mixture of a lack of audacity and a strange abundance of self-consciousness.

  As he puts on his coat for a walk to the school compound, he contemplates on his birthday. Should his teammates be doing what they seemed to be doing, then it would be one of the few birthday celebrations he had in his life.

  ‘I believe we stopped commemorating every little thing after she passed away,’ he thinks, and grimaces. The winter breeze ruffles his hair, prompting him to rake a hand through it. ‘And back in middle school, we only had some sort of a party once when we were first years.

  ‘Can it even be considered a party?’ Akashi chuckles a little at the thought. ‘Why, Aomine and Murasakibara were a little too obvious about surprising me, and then Midorima told me about it in the face, so it isn’t much of a surprise. Does that mean this is my first…’

  Akashi stops before his school, and his lips curve into an even brighter smile. ‘Oh, it is. This is my first surprise birthday party.’

  The regulars of Rakuzan perch by the steps leading up to the main entrance. Mibuchi waves at him a little, Hayama and Nebuya both flash him a brilliant grin, and Mayuzumi leans against the railing, disgruntled.

  “Good afternoon, everyone,” Akashi greets them. “Is there a reason for all of you to wait for me?”

  Nebuya roars with laughter. “Come on, Akashi! You know it better than us!”

  “That’s right, that’s right!” Hayama adds on. He leaps down from the top stair, paying no heed to Mibuchi’s warning, and lunges for Akashi, wrapping his arms around him. “Happy birthday, Akashi!”

  It takes a moment for Hayama’s action to sink in for all the parties, and when it does, Hayama releases Akashi at the speed of light.

  “Aka…shi…I didn’t mean to…sor-”

  Akashi makes a sound of amusement. “There’s no need to apologise, Hayama,” he says, reassuring Hayama with a pat on the shoulder. His hand lingers there, and he gazes at Hayama softly. “Thank you.”

  Hayama recovers almost immediately, bouncing all over the place in ecstasy with gibberish no one understood. The others watch, stunned, as Akashi climbs up the stairs as if nothing had happened.

  “Well, are we heading to the gym?”

  “Oh, right away!” Mibuchi says, taking large strides to lead the group. “And while we’re at it - Sei-chan, happy birthday!”

  “Happy birthday, Akashi!”

  There is a long pause before the final member of the five offers with great reluctance, “Happy birthday.”

  “Thank you.” Akashi feels his smile grow wider.

  They reach the gym, and Mibuchi pushes the door open. A sight meant solely for Akashi is revealed to him, and he can’t help but part his lips.

  “Captain Akashi, the Rakuzan basketball club wishes you the happiest of birthdays!” explodes every member of the Rakuzan basketball club. They release the helium balloons they had been gripping onto, sending vivid colour after colour spiraling to the top of the gym.

  Akashi Seijurou has always been known for his eloquent words and unwavering leadership, yet for the first time, he finds himself utterly speechless; somehow, the nervous but hopeful faces of his fellow teammates and the genuine hopes they have resonating in each balloon leave him with a warm feeling in his chest. The only sign of it is the look of affection brightening his gaze, and the lack of words.

  He finally finds his voice, and does his best to convey his feelings to his team, “Thank you…everyone. This is a lovely surprise.”

  Everyone relaxes, the earlier tension fading away to good cheer and celebration.

  Hayama springs into Akashi’s field of view, sporting a giant grin and a question, “Did you see the balloons? Did you like the balloons?”

  “Oh yes.” Akashi nods. “They were very…exquisite?”

  “Right, right? I picked them, ya know! Reo-nee was in charge of the decorations, but he let me choose the balloons!”

  “Really, now?” Hayama’s words piqued Akashi’s curiosity, and he goes on to ask, “So what were you in charge of?”

  “Correspondence,” Nebuya answers for Hayama. “He was the one who called everyone to give a hand and stuff. I’m in charge of food!”

  Nebuya swings a hand over at the tables the Rakuzan basketball members had dragged in, and at the food laden on them proudly. Akashi laughs despite himself. The assortment of food ranges from dumplings to cotton candy, and is enough to feed the whole of Kyoto for the next decade.

  Mayuzumi skulks over, muttering scornfully, “I did tell the oaf not to buy cup ramen from the convenience store promotion or not, but he didn’t listen. Where are we supposed to get hot water?”

  Akashi raises his eyebrows when he spies the tower of cup ramen. “It’s the thought that counts, Mayuzumi. We can probably get everyone to bring one home.” He turns to Mayuzumi. “What were you in charge of?”

  Mayuzumi bristles.

  “I oversaw everything as the senior, I guess,” he says. After a second or two, he pulls out something and tosses it to Akashi. “And I got you this. In case you wanted a proper present instead of this mumbo jumbo.”

  Perplexed, Akashi catches and examines the item. As expected, it was a light novel - one Akashi had never read and never planned on reading.

  Akashi looks up at Mayuzumi’s uncaring façade. “Thank you. Is this one of your recommendations?”

  “Hm, I guess,” Mayuzumi says, and drifts away from the birthday boy as the other three regulars rushed over.

  “Akashi! Akashi!”

  “We forgot to mention,” Mibuchi continues, “that Hayama did contact your former teammates in Teiko to celebrate your birthday with us, but I’m afraid they were a little too busy.”

  Akashi doesn’t have time to feel disappointment, as Nebuya lifted a box into the air and shouted, “They baked you a cake though! Isn’t it neat?”

  They open the cake box, and indeed, a cake bearing a birthday wish greets Akashi. Akashi visibly softens as Hayama sticks candles into it, and Mibuchi lights them.

  The gym bursts into an unanimous song - one that fills the boys with merriment despite themselves, and makes the balloons glow with greater vibrancy.

  “Close your eyes and make a wish!” exclaims Hayama as soon as the song fades to silence, and Akashi does.

  He takes a deep breath, and blows out the candles with a single gust. His heart thuds with thousands of emotions, and everyone erupts into applause.

  “What did you wish for, Akashi?” asks Hayama good-naturedly, and Mibuchi sighs.

  “Idiot,” Mayuzumi hisses, walking past Akashi, “doesn’t he know it’s bad luck to know birthday wishes?”

  Nevertheless, Akashi laughs just as good-naturedly, and tells Hayama with a mysterious gleam in his eye, “It’s a secret.”

  Attention is diverted to the cake, as Mibuchi plucks out the candles and cuts out a large slice for Akashi, then an extra-large slice for Nebuya.

  As Nebuya shovels an extra-large forkful into his mouth, Akashi inspects the cakes, and his eyes narrow. “Mibuchi, do you know who baked this?”

  “Hm?” Mibuchi touches his chin in thought, passing the next slice to Hayama. “I wasn’t in charge of correspondence, so…”

  “Hayama?”

  Hayama sticks the fork in his mouth, thinking hard before offering, “It’s the girl, I think? Touou’s manager? Momoi? She did say she was the best cook out of the lot.”

“I’m such a greedy bastard, aren’t I Shin-chan?” Takao finally breaks the silence, voice trembling in between broken sobs and furious swiping at his red eyes. “All I wanted at first was to be acknowledged by you; hell, maybe even respected by you. But now…I just want to be loved by you.”

He stops taking to fumble for a tissue, clammy hands shaking, hiccups lighter than a feather drifting through the air. Upon finding the tissue, he blows his nose noisily, and looks up at Midorima.

Takao’s face is a shadow of what it used to be; where were the stars in his eyes, and his perpetual laughter? Why did they give way to this picture of aching misery, of a runny nose and tears that dribbled off his chin messily.

“Is it…impossible?”

Midorima feels a shiver run up his spine, and he can’t bring himself to scold Takao. Instead, he crouches down and holds him, pressing his damp face into his shoulder blade.

Another onslaught of tears run down Takao’s cheeks, and he closes his sore eyes. The warmth of Midorima, the strong smell of him, the soft hair that tickles him; Takao feels Midorima’s beating heart, and a chuckle escapes him - a hopeful chuckle.

  “Don’t let go, Hajime!”

  Aoyagi makes a small sound, “Junta...”

  Teshima grits his teeth, trails of sweat trekking down his cheeks and steadily dripping from his chin. He summons all the strength in his battered body, and digs his nails deep in the tiny rock.

  “I’ll think of something, I swear!” he shouts, but his mind draws a blank. He’s thrust into a completely unthinkable situation, and is far from able to haul both him and Aoyagi to safety. “I always have, I will this time! I promise! So promise me, Hajime: don’t let go!”

  A fragment of the rock breaks off and tumbles into the gaping abyss, and Teshima screams a curse.

  “Junta...” Aoyagi says again, and he feels Teshima’s grip on his wrist loosen. Teshima is rapidly losing strength, and it’s a matter of time before they both fall to their imminent death.

  Aoyagi looks at his partner for the last time, etching his ashen face into every inch of mind, and closes his eyes.