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Chapter Text

The cold air of Yosen's gym hit Ren like a slap as she stepped inside. 

Clean, polished floors. The faint smell of sweat. The echo of basketballs hitting hardwood from the team finishing their warm-ups.

      Her joggers swished softly with each step as she walked along the polished floor, the cuffs brushing the tops of her sneakers. Her long, dark teal hair was pulled into a loose braid down her back, a few wisps escaping to frame her face.

      She stood quietly off to the side, her new Yosen purple waist pack secured slung across one hip, stocked with all the essentials: compression wraps, tape, bandages, small cold packs. Her fingers toyed with a hair tie in her pocket out of habit.

      The doors behind her creaked open.

      "You're early," said Coach Akari. Her voice was calm but carried an edge that brokered no nonsense.

      Ren straightened. "Old habit I guess."

      "Good," the coach said with a rare smile. Her sharp eyes looked back to court. "They're nearly done messing around. I'll introduce you."

      Coach stepped forward, blew her whistle, and within seconds, the towering players gathered around.

     "Alright. Listen up," Akari barked. "Our team is known for its defensive power, that's a fact. However it's obvious from last season, especially in our game against Seirin, that this strategy takes its toll on your growing bodies."

     "So, to combat this problem and give us the best chance at winning the Winter Cup this year, "Akari gestured towards Ren, "I've enlisted a vital asset."

     "This is Minazuki Ren. She's your new team medic. She's also going to be acting manager for the season as she is an upper classman."

     "Hello, some of you I know from class, but nice to meet the rest of you. I look forward to helping this team." Ren announced, keeping her nerves in check and her voice steady.

     Ren stood awkwardly beside Coach Akari, hands resting on the strap of her pack, watching the tall group of boys shift and murmur. Some of them were seated, some leaning lazily against the wall, others stretching absently as if waiting for practice to officially start. None looked particularly enthusiastic—except for the one with striking black hair and a calm, polite smile who stepped forward first.

     "Nice to meet you," he said, offering a slight bow. "I'm Himuro Tatsuya. We're glad to have you with us."

     Ren blinked. Okay. Polite. Normal. Great start.

     "Ah, yeah—thanks," she replied, trying to match the bow. "It's nice to meet you."

     "Don't mind the rest," Himuro added under his breath, smile unwavering. "We're a little... tall, but we warm up."

     From behind him, a loud crack echoed as a tall, broad player cracked his neck with a bored look. "Hmph. A manager?" the boy asked. "We already got water bottles. Why we need her?"

     "That's Kenji," Coach sighed. "Ignore him. He once dislocated his shoulder and still tried to finish the game with his other arm. Ren's going to stop idiots like him from dying."

     A few chuckles rumbled around the gym.

     One of the other players—a stocky second-year with buzzed hair—raised a hand. "Wait, she's a medic-medic? Like with tape and the weird machines?"

     "I'm a sports medicine major," Ren said quickly, "I have kinesiology training and rehab experience. My dad is also a sports medicine doctor for professional athletes, so I've learned a lot from him too. I specialize in tall players' joint support."

     A pause. A longer pause. Then—

     "Oh, sick," said someone in the back. "My knees sound like rice crispies. Can you fix that?"

     "No," she smiled jokingly. "But I can make sure you don't fall apart mid-dribble."

     Another round of laughter. But it was the looming silence that drew her eyes away from the banter. Ren felt it first—a heavy presence. A sort of gravity. Then the rustle of snack wrappers.

     And then... him.

     One of the boys stood half a head taller than anyone else, his violet eyes half-lidded as he chomped lazily on a bag of chips. His purple hair was down, brushing his jaw. He looked like he'd rather be in bed—or anywhere else, really.

     He stared at her. Chewed. Blinked slowly.

     Ren stared back.

     "She is in charge of your bodies. That means if she says rest, you rest. If she says wrap it, you don't argue. Understand?" Coach Araki barked in her authoritative tone.

     Most nodded. One didn't. Some drooled.

     "She's so small." The purple-haired giant said flatly. "How is she supposed to be in charge of our bodies if she can't even reach us."

     "Murasakibara," the coach warned. "Be nice."

     He didn't answer. Instead, his lavender eyes flicked over to Ren. Or more like, down to her.

     "You're small," he said flatly.

     Ren blinked. "And you're tall."

     A beat of silence. Then—surprisingly—he gave a lazy grin.

     "Guess we're both observant, huh?"

     "I said be nice, you buffoon!" Coach exhaled sharply and groaned, snatching Murasakibara's bag of chips out of his hands and crumpling them up before throwing it in the nearby trash can. "And I told you to stop eating junk food during practice!"

     "Sheesh, calm down lady."

     "I told you to call me coach."

     "Yeah, yeah."

     "Alright," Araki said. "Ren, this is the team. You'll get to know them. For now, set up by the benches. You'll run post-practice recovery today."

     Murasakibara turned and walked past her, brushing her shoulder with his as he passed. Ren nearly flinched at how tall he really was up close.

     She turned to Coach Akari. "So... that's Murasakibara Atsushi?"

     The coach nodded, clearly unbothered. "Mm. You'll get used to him. Eventually."

     Coach clapped her hands. "Alright, warm-ups start in five. Ren, you're free to observe or assist. Your kit's in the office."

     Ren nodded, her heart thudding a bit faster than before.

     New team.
     New role.
     New start.

     And one giant center with purple hair who smelled like sugar and seemed to be deeply problematic.

                                                                                       ******

     "We've got drills today, but we're gonna start with a scrimmage warm up game since Ren will be observing everyone." Akari announced.

     The tall lineup of players began moving toward the center of the court, chatting among themselves—Himuro's calm voice standing out among the deeper tones of the others. There were scattered chuckles and a few smitten shrieks of eagerness between them. Ren smiled politely but knew she had her work cut out for her.

     Lingering near the bench, Ren pulled out her slim clipboard and a pen from her side pack. Coach Akari placed a hand on her shoulder. "Don't be afraid to get close. You'll need to understand their physical habits—weak ankles, tight backs, the works."

     Ren nodded, brushing a loose strand of teal hair behind her ear. "Of course."

     Once practice started, the noise rose. Shoes screeched against the polished court, balls thudded against the hardwood, and sharp exhalations cut through the warm air with each pass and pivot.

     Ren stood off to the side at first, eyes sharp and clinical, tracking each movement like a seasoned analyst.

      Murasakibara towered above the others, which was an insane sight since Yosen's other players were also abnormally tall. He moved with an almost lazy rhythm, but she noticed the slight tilt in his landing on his right leg—likely compensating for a tight hamstring or past strain. She jotted it down.

     Himuro's form was nearly perfect, but there was tension in his left shoulder. Nothing too serious but she made another note. Ren didn't notice anything too concerning from Wei Liu, but he was almost the same height as Atsushi so she jotted a reminder to make consistent checks on their knees.

     Fifteen minutes into the scrimmage, Coach barked an order. "Break! Ren, go ahead."

     She stepped forward, feeling every eye on her, especially one pair that was unmistakably violet. Her sneakers tapped lightly on the court as she approached the players now gathered in a loose semicircle, sweat glistening on their necks and brows.

     "Okay," she said, voice clear but not loud. "Let's make this quick. I'm just getting baseline notes today. Murasakibara, can I see you first?"

     He blinked at her, towering frame hunched slightly as if mildly inconvenienced. "Huh? Why? Do I have to?"

     "Dude, why are you questioning it?!" One of the first years, Yuki Kanzaki, shouted. "Ren-chi, I'll volunteer to be touched by your hands first!"

     "You're one pervy first year huh." Wei mumbled, pounding Yuki on his head.

     "Kanzaki, you didn't even play in the scrimmage." Ren said, moving on as the first year hunched over sinking his head in defeat.

     Returning her focus onto the purple-hair titan, Ren sighed, "And because Atsushi, you land unevenly after coming back from a jump. Your knee on the right side's compensating."

     He stared down at it like it had betrayed him.

     "... Oh." He shrugged. "Okay."

     "It might be something that's worsened from the Winter Cup games and with you being one of our Ace's, I just want to do a further evaluation to make sure everything's okay." Ren explained, gesturing to him to follow her towards the bench.

     "Alright whatever, just try not to get too handsy."

     Ren's eyes went wide as her cheeks grew bright red. "Uh–no, absolutely no–I would–I would never!"

     Murasakibara looked at Ren under hooded eyes with a blank expression, but she could see the slightest tug at the corner of his lips.

     Ren flicked her eyes away from him and pouted her lips in a frown. She could still feel the heat on her cheeks and ears as she grumbled, "... Bastard."

Chapter Text

The scrimmage started back up behind Ren as she led Murasakibara away from the court and had him sit down on the bench. He reached for a bag of chips in his gym bag, but Ren swatted his hand away and gave him a towel instead.

Atsushi grimaced and draped the sweat towel over his head, leaning his back against the wall. He was still a massive force on the bench—they were practically eye level with him sitting and her standing, it was unbelievable.

Ren crouched in front of him, suddenly hyper aware of the feeling of Atsushi's eyes on her and the fact that she would be touching him. It's her job, she's done it countless times—massaging athletes, taping joints, examining and evaluating player's bodies. It felt different now, more delicate, almost... intimate.

Okay, she needed to stop. She was definitely overthinking this.

Ren placed her hands on Murasakibara's lower leg, gently straightening it and stretching it out so she had full access to evaluate. She pushed the slick fabric of his gym shorts to just above his knee and put her full concentration into calming her heart rate and pretending to not notice the twitch of his leg in response to her touch.

Taking a deep breath to steady her focus, Ren began to softly but expertly move her fingers, pressing along the tendons and muscles of Atsushi's knee.

"Is there any pain or soreness here?" Ren asked, intentionally keeping her gaze on her working hands.

A pause.

"... A little I guess." Murasakibara answered. She could still feel his eyes on her.

"You don't stretch properly, do you?"

"Too boring."

She exhaled softly, amused despite herself. "You're going to tear something one day, you know."

Atsushi waved her off and leaned his head back against the wall. Ren could feel him watching her work, his gaze lowering to the methodical way she wrapped a tension band around his knee and guided him through a simple resistance test.

"It's inflamed. Probably strain from overuse. Have you been putting ice on it?"

He shrugged.

She sighed and pulled out an ice pack near the water coolers next to them.

"That's a no," she said, pressing the ice gently against the joint. "You can't keep ignoring this stuff. You're too tall to pretend gravity isn't your enemy."

He made a sound between a grunt and a laugh. "You're small."

"And yet here I am, scolding you like a baby with my medical expertise."

"More like a squirrel with a fanny pack." He snorted. "... There any snacks in there?"

"...Yeah," Ren smirked. "But none for you though."

Atsushi scoffed, blowing a piece of his violet hair out of his face. Ren continued to switch out from icing his knee to gentle massages on the most noticeable swollen areas.

Her heart continued to pound in her ears and only grew louder when a silence settled between the two. It wasn't awkward, but it was heavy with a sort of tension. At least for Ren it was, she doubted Atsushi was even paying attention.

"You played before," he said, suddenly.

Ren froze for half a second, her heart skipping a beat. "I did."

"You were good?"

She glanced up at him, the first time she had since she started working on his knee. Instantly Ren was caught in that oddly piercing stare, feeling almost entranced by his violet eyes. "I guess I was decent."

Himuro must have overheard their conversation and spoke up from nearby. "She was more than decent. Coach Akari wouldn't have brought her here otherwise."

Ren didn't answer. Instead, she gave Murasakibara a firm pat on the knee. "You're cleared for now, but I want you to ice this after practice. No excuses."

He nodded slowly. "You talk like Coach."

Ren smiled faintly. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Atsushi's blank expression remained while he stared at her, slowly rising from his spot on the bench. His violet eyes weren't easy to read, but she could see the flicker of curiosity there. And maybe something softer.

"Oh and Atsushi?" Ren gave a threatening smile, "I'll know if you don't. So listen or I'll bury you in never ending PT."

Murasakibara grumbled in reluctant understanding and stretched, shaking out the leg that Ren was just handling. And just like that, he walked away, leaving her kneeling on the gym floor with a racing heart and her eyes staring after him, stunned and reeling.

*******

The rest of the practice passed in a blur of motion, observation, and quiet field notes. Ren barely stopped moving—adjusting stances, rewrapping fingers, reminding one of the first-years to hydrate more often. By the end, her bag was half-empty, wrappers of cooling patches and used compression wraps tossed neatly in a side bin.

After the last whistle blew, the players filtered toward the locker rooms and Coach Akari stepped over to Ren with arms crossed.

"Well?"

"They're solid. But almost all of them are neglecting recovery. I'll need to bring more supplies next time—and probably set up a post-practice stretch routine. I'd maybe even start individual PT sessions for some of them."

Coach grinned. "That's why I wanted you."

Ren's eyes flicked toward the hallway Murasakibara had vanished down. "Thanks for trusting me."

"You've got a sharp eye and a sharper mind. Let them warm up to you. They'll realize soon enough—you're here to keep them standing."

Chapter Text

A full week had passed since Ren Minazuki stepped into Yōsen's gym as the newly appointed medic-manager.

Despite the initial stiffness and awkwardness of being the outsider, she was slowly learning the rhythm of the team, the hum of energy that came with tall bodies and heavier steps, the way practice balls echoed louder in a gym that felt built for titans.

     The team had gotten used to her calm, matter-of-fact presence on the sidelines, especially during practices where she moved with silent efficiency, weaving between giants with quick hands and steady instructions. Her methods were sharp but gentle, her voice always even when someone protested a cold compress or winced from a calf cramp.

     Coach Araki—sharp-eyed, effortlessly commanding—had immediately put her to work, and Ren rose to the occasion. She organized medical supplies, observed each player's form, and adapted quickly to the needs of the team. Her reputation as someone who had once played elite-level basketball still floated in whispers, but most didn't pry.

     Until today.

    The gym was louder than usual. The players were warming up for a full scrimmage, and Coach Araki had asked Ren to monitor them closely for signs of overexertion or strain.

     Since she expected to be busy, she had decided to put her long teal hair in a ponytail and wear a hat to help keep the stray strands out of her face. A clipboard was tucked under her arm, her med pack snug at her side, cargo joggers rustling as she jogged to keep up with the action.

     "Yo, Minazuki-san," called out a voice—cheerful, almost too familiar.

     She turned to find Yuki Kanazaki, a wiry first-year guard with dyed ash-blond hair and perpetually untied laces. He jogged beside her, grinning.

     "You got any tape? Or a bandage? My heart hurts from how cute you looked scolding Kenji-senpai yesterday."

     Ren blinked, smiling deadpan. "Do you need actual tape, or should I just tape your mouth?"

     "Ouch," Yuki winced dramatically. "So mean. I'm gonna cry into my jersey."

     A loud scoff echoed behind her. Kenji Tagumara, a broad-shouldered third-year with a permanent scowl and deep voice, shoved Yuki lightly aside.

     "Quit bothering her. Don't you have laps to run for being late again?"

     Yuki groaned but shuffled away, mumbling something about being tragically misunderstood.

     Ren made a quick round across the court, stopping by Liu Wei, who was silently stretching near the wall.

     "Your shoulder okay today?" she asked.

     He nodded once. "Looser than yesterday."

     "You've been doing the mobility warm-ups I showed you?"

     Wei gave a small sound of affirmation, gaze flicking briefly to hers. "They help. Thank you."

     "Good. Keep at it."

     As she moved toward the benches, her eyes found Himuro Tatsuya, tying his laces with calm precision. He looked up at her with a small smile.

     "You've adjusted well," he said.

     "Still figuring out who's who," she admitted.

     "I think you've got the chaos sorted," he chuckled, glancing toward Yuki. "And the stubborn ones." His eyes flicked toward Kenji, then toward the far end of the gym, where Murasakibara Atsushi was doing lazy squats while chewing on a snack.

     "Speaking of..." Ren muttered.

     "It's amazing," Himuro enthused. "He really does listen to you more than anyone else here."

     Ren felt her cheeks begin to warm, "I guess so."

     Looking at Atsushi made her remember something that Coach and Ren had discussed and she needed to share it with him.

     "Do you need anything from me Himuro? I have to go tell Atsushi about his PT starting today." Ren asked, before just taking off and leaving the kind dark-hair boy in the dust unintentionally.

     Tatsuya's eyes flicked to her and then back to Murasakibara, who had given up on the squats all together. Ren slowly blinked while Himuro apologetically smiled, both unsurprised.

     Himuro looked back to Ren, a flash of something she couldn't read bearing onto her through his gaze. "Nope, thank you though. You go right on ahead with him."

     The playful tone in his soft voice made her hesitate, raising her eyebrows in confusion at the sharp eyed player. His expression remained unchanged as he flicked his hands in a shooing motion towards her.

     Ren squinted her eyes at him but chose to let it go and began making her stride towards Atsushi.

     "Did coach tell you about your PT sessions starting today after practice?" She asked, watching him with crossed arms as he began lazily attempting to do the stretches she had shown to him.

     "Yeah yeah. She told me."

     "Good."

     Ren didn't have anything else she needed to say to him, but she found herself getting lost in the sight of him.

His long muscular arms and the veins that were protruding from his stretches. The beads of sweat along his brow, some cascading elegantly down his cheek and dripping off his sharp jawline. Not to mention his towering height that made Ren feel as if she was being engulfed by his shadow. It made her feel so tiny and filled her head with images and thoughts of how it might feel to be held in his large, strong arms, picked up off the ground with such ease. And his massive hands—

     "Uh hello? Minazuki?" Atsushi's voice snapped her out of her spiraling daydreams.

     Oh my god, she was losing it.

     Ren's face was burning hot, no doubt in her mind that it was noticeably bright red. She refocused her wide eyes on Murasakibara and hadn't realized he had walked closer to her. It made her whole body jolt and tense as she tipped her head back to fully match his gaze. Surely he could hear the drumming of her heart, it felt like it was going to explode.

     His tired eyes looked down at her, piercing right through her whole being. It made her even more flustered, like he could read everything running through her mind.

     She tried to speak, come up with anything to say to him as the continuing silence was making her emotions more obvious by the second. The last thing she wanted from this giant purple ass was him realizing that she was fawning over him and his stupid pretty face.

     Ren opened her mouth to speak but was caught off guard by Atsushi placing a hand on the top of her head.

     "Ren?" His tone seemed serious suddenly, and it made her speechless again as she froze completely at the feeling of him touching her. It felt like his hand almost covered the entirety of her skull.

     She peered back up into his intense lilac stare , absolutely stunned. "... Yes?"

     She could feel her legs start to quiver from the nerves and her ears were absolutely on fire. The anticipation of what he was about to say was driving her emotions into a hurricane within her stomach.

     "Do you have any of your protein snacks?"

     Ren blinked.

     She was left dumbfounded by her own thoughts betraying her, thinking this idiot was about to make some sort of love confession.

     "No!" She gave a light punch to his stomach to let out her frustration, plus all the other swirling emotions that were causing her to become undone.

     Atsushi yelped out and bent over clutching his stomach. He groaned in confusion, "Hey, what the hell was that for?"

     "For being a snack obsessed man-child." Ren pouted, crossing her arms and walking back to her spot courtside.

     She could feel Murasakibara's eyes still on her back, watching her cross the gym. She didn't dare let up her annoyed body language, since it was actually a cover for her awkward embarrassment. She needed to regain some sort of dignity after that.

     Upon returning to her place, she couldn't shake the tingles coursing throughout her so she decided she needed a quick break. An array of emotions were still settling within her and for some reason, amongst the diverse combo of feelings—-disappointment was the biggest.

                                                                                       ******

     The gym had quieted to a dull hum—the clatter of basketballs now replaced with the soft squeak of shoes and the faint tap of a lone ball hitting the rim and bouncing off. The lights overhead were dimmer now, most of the team gone for dinner or the showers. Only a few lingered.

     Ren sat at the bench near the first-aid kit, reorganizing supplies into labeled pouches: wraps, sprays, braces, pain balm. Her hands moved with practiced ease, but her mind had been somewhere else ever since her embarrassing moment with Atsushi.

     "Oi, Minazuki."

     The sudden voice pulled her from her thoughts. She looked up to see Kenji Tagumara, towel draped over his shoulders, arms crossed, expression unreadable. A few feet behind him, Yuki Kanazaki hovered like a curious cat, nibbling on a Pocky stick and pretending not to be listening.

     Ren blinked. "What's up?"

     Kenji tilted his head slightly. "You've been here a week. Helping out. Never complain. Pretty damn good with taking care of us. And Murasakibara actually listens to you, which is a miracle. But..."

     He trailed off.

     "But?" she asked, heart crawling up her throat.

     Kenji scratched the back of his neck. "No one's really asked. But you used to play, didn't you?"

     The gym felt still in a different way now.

     Yuki dropped the Pocky stick from his mouth. "Wait, seriously? You were a player?"

     Ren's smile was slow to form—faint, uncertain. "Yeah. I played."

     "Where?" Yuki sat beside her now, legs crisscrossed on the bench, eyes wide with interest. "What position? You tall enough to be a point guard?"

     Ren chuckled softly. "Tokyo. Wing. Shooting guard. I was quick. Smart. Not too bad with pressure."

     Kenji sat across from her on a bench, arms propped on his knees, gaze steady. "Why'd you stop?"

     The question struck like a stone skimming across still water.

     Ren looked down at the wrap she was holding. Her fingers tightened around it. "My knee blew out in the middle of a game my second year. Ligaments tore in two places. My coach had to carry me off the court."

     No one spoke.

     "I had surgery. Rehab. Tried to come back too soon and... made it worse." She gave a faint shrug. "That was it. I couldn't pivot without pain. My parents pulled me from the sport. Said it was time to move on. I understood but was so angry at them, the world. So I moved to here and live by myself now."

     Kenji's expression shifted—less stern, more thoughtful. "Damn."

     "Sorry," Yuki said, much quieter this time. "That sucks. I mean, you clearly still love the game."

     "I do," she admitted. "That's why I'm here. I couldn't stay away from it, even if I can't play."

     A quiet passed between them—acknowledging, respectful.

     Kenji stood. "Guess that's why you're so good at what you do now."

     Yuki smirked. "You were cool already, but now you're tragic and cool."

     Ren laughed, shaking her head. "Thanks, I guess?"

     Just then, footsteps echoed in from the hallway.

     Atsushi Murasakibara.

     He paused in the doorway, eyes flicking from Kenji to Yuki to Ren. "What're you doing?"

     "Nothing," Yuki grinned. "Just finding out our precious therapist used to be a baller."

     Murasakibara looked at Ren, his gaze unreadable for a second longer than usual. Then he walked over, placed a hand on her head, and ruffled her hair without a word.

     Ren looked up at him, startled and cheeks heating. "What was that for?"

     "You're still a player," he mumbled. "Just... different now."

     Then he turned and walked away.

Chapter Text

The gym was nearly silent by the time Ren finished cleaning up the last of the gear. The boys had filtered out gradually—some with grumbled goodbyes, others with a quick wave or nod. Coach Araki had already retreated to her office, leaving Ren in the pale hush of the evening gym lights, the scent of sweat and polished floors still hanging in the air.

She bent to zip up the med kit, double-checking the compression wraps and the small container of ice packs tucked beside them. Her knees popped quietly as she straightened. The ache in her joints was familiar, almost grounding, like a hum in her bones that never quite left.

Ren slung the kit over her shoulder and turned to leave—only to find a tall shadow blocking her path.

She startled, blinking up into a pair of sleepy violet eyes.

"Whoa—Murasakibara?"

He stood just a few feet from her, his massive frame half-leaning against the wall, long arms crossed lazily over his chest. He was still in his practice gear, his black shirt sticking slightly to his collarbone.

"I waited," he said simply.

Ren frowned. "For what?"

"You. I'm supposed to start PT today. You said so, remember?"

She stared at him, stunned. "Oh right. I just didn't think you'd actually... stay."

He shrugged, uncrossing his arms with the slow, heavy motion of someone who moved with practiced strength. "Coach said I have to. If I don't, she'll bench me again."

Ren nodded in understanding, making a mental note to thank Coach Akari tomorrow.

"Plus she said she'd throw all my snacks in my hidden stash in the trash if I didn't show up." Atsushi mumbled, letting out an unbothered yawn.

Ren sighed softly and gestured to the hallway leading to the locker rooms. "Alright then. Come with me."

Wordlessly, he followed her down the corridor toward the school's athletic rehab room, dragging his feet like a kid being sent to detention. Or more like a giant toddler who just woke up from his nap.

The therapy room smelled faintly of antiseptic and eucalyptus balm. Soft overhead lighting buzzed gently, casting warm shadows over the padded bench in the middle. Ren already had everything laid out: brace straps, resistance bands, and a roll of athletic tape.

She gestured to the bench. "Lie back. I'm going to check the rotation and flexion of your knee."

He gave a dramatic groan but did as he was told, letting his long legs dangle off the edge. As she knelt beside him, Ren rolled up the loose fabric of his shorts to properly expose the joint.

Taking a deep breath to steady her heart, she reminded herself to stay focused on her job and to not get flustered by the feel of his skin under her touch. Her fingers attempted to brush his skin with professional detachment, but the moment her hand wrapped around his knee, his entire leg tensed. Ren inhaled sharply as a shiver went throughout her whole body.

"Try to relax," she said gently, mostly to herself if she was being honest. "I know it hurts, but you've got to let me move it."

She felt his gaze on her, like he was studying her facial features or trying to read her the way she tries to do with him. His eyes trailed down and followed her hands at work. "You're pretty good at all this huh."

"Wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

Ren needed to start pushing his body a bit towards its limit to really help soothe the joint. She needed to move her hand a bit higher on his thigh to do the next stretch, but she was sweating just thinking about it.

"Um, are you alright with me... doing this stretch for you?" Ren shakily asked, gesturing to her hand placement.

Atsushi flicked his eyes up to meet hers and all Ren could do in the moment was pray he didn't notice her undoing.

"Yeah whatever, I don't care," He simply answered, leaning his head back on the padded table. "You can be handsy."

Ren's eyes flew wide open, snapping instantly to Murasakibara's resting and unbothered face. She swore her heart was practically pounding out of her chest. "Eh—Excuse me?!"

Atsushi's closed eyes just barely peeked open, a lazy smirk tugging at the side of his lips as he drew out a long, "Kiddinng."

Ren let out a disgruntled exhale, refocusing on the exercise despite being besides herself. She replaced her hands on his thigh and just below his joint and began rotating his knee in slow, controlled arcs. She could feel the tension in his muscles and the way he slightly clenched his jaw in an attempt to hide it.

The silence between them stretched long—but not uncomfortable. Just... focused.

"I didn't think someone small like you would last here," he mumbled.

"I didn't think someone tall like you would have joints this fragile."

That earned her a soft huff. Not quite a laugh, but close. It made a small smile form on her lips.

"Does it still hurt here?" she asked, pressing gently on the inner joint.

His lips pressed into a flat line. "...Yeah."

Ren nodded and adjusted her grip, guiding his leg through another stretch, this time slower. Her face was close to his now, their eyes nearly level. She hoped she appeared to be all professionalism on the surface, but inside, the way he looked at her—curious, unreadable—unnerved her more than any injury could. It was frustrating, she couldn't understand why his presence, his gaze, was affecting her this much. She needed conversation to distract her.

"You always this quiet?" she asked, reaching for the cold gel pack.

"I don't talk to people I don't like."

Her brows rose. "But you're talking to me now?"

His gaze didn't waver. "...Maybe."

She blinked, caught off guard by the honesty. What did that mean exactly? Was she reading too much into it? Probably.

Neither of them broke their stare, violet eyes colliding full force into hers like a bullet train. The air was thick with something unsaid between them. It made her suddenly hyper aware that it was just the two of them in the room... with her hands... touching him.

In flustered desperation, she broke the moment, applying the gel with a firm touch. "Well you're lucky. You just need rest and compression, but you need to take this seriously, Atsushi. You want to keep playing, right?"

He was quiet for a long second. Then:

"Yeah... I guess I do."

Something in his voice made her glance up at him, taking in all of him. He wasn't just saying it—he actually meant it. For someone who often acted like basketball was just a way to kill time, that admission surprised her. It sent a warm feeling through her, like the fire inside of her recognized the familiarity of passion for the sport.

"Good," she said softly with a smile. "Then let me help you."

Murasakibara looked at her, this time without his usual lazy disinterest. His lashes were heavy, but his eyes sharp. Curious. Gentle.

"I think... I like your voice," he murmured.

Ren blinked, her eyes wide and cheeks instantly hot. "Excuse me?"

"It's not annoying. That's rare."

She stared at him, speechless. Then slowly, despite herself, a smile tugged at her lips.

"...Thanks. I think."

Chapter Text

The Yosen gym echoed with the familiar rhythmic thump of basketballs against the wood floor but today it was ten times louder than usual.

Today's practice wasn't just a scrimmage — it was a test.

A mid-season measure of progress against one of the most strategic and dominant teams in the league: Rakuzan High.

Coach Araki had called it a "controlled exhibition," but everyone knew what it really was — a chance to see where they stood after the Winter Cup and what needed refining before the next season began.

Ren was seated on the gym bench, fingers absently tightening the straps on her medical pack. The faint hum of sneakers squeaking against the polished floors echoed through the gym as the team ran warmups behind her.

Her phone buzzed with a soft chime. Without thinking, she tapped it open, expecting maybe a message from her mother or father but instead—one name froze her mid-breath.

Riko Aida.

The message was brief, formal, yet heavy with unspoken weight:

Ren Minazuki-san!
I apologize for this being so out of the blue, but there's an opportunity at Seirin that I think you'll love. I'd love to to meet and talk about it with you whenever you're free :)
— Riko Aida

Ren stared at the screen, thumb hovering in shock. Her chest tightened at the thought of whatever Riko had planned up her sleeve.

It had been awhile since she last saw that name. Years since Riko had been anything more than a memory tied to sweat-drenched gyms, laughter in spring tournaments, and that one shared summer where Ren felt like a true player. The past she buried with effort clawed its way forward.

Why now?

Before she could spiral further, something tapped the top of her head.

She blinked.

Looking up, she found Murasakibara standing beside her, expression flat as ever.

"Don't get squishy before the game," he mumbled, holding the end of a chopstick like a pointer.

She swatted his hand away and sent a glare up towards him, quickly locking her phone and sliding it into her pack, "I'm not squishy."

He lazily tilted his head. Those violet eyes, quick as lightning, flicked down to her chest and back to her eyes in a second. His brow raised in confusion at her statement—Ren could not believe this ass.

"Hey!"

He gave a slow blink and resumed chewing, " — You looked weird."

"You always look weird."

He smirked faintly and plodded back toward the court, leaving her to stew in the storm now brewing behind her ribs. She tightened the straps on her pack again, as if that could brace her from whatever Riko's message really meant. She shook her head and pocketed her phone. Whatever this was, she'd deal with it later. Right now, Yosen needed her.

******

The gym buzzed with tension. Rakuzan had already arrived, calm and calculating in their movements. Akashi's presence alone seemed to pull the air tighter.

Ren stood near the bench, sleeves pushed to her elbows, her hair tied in a long braid, a towel slung around her neck.

Murasakibara seemed just as his usual careless self—until the ball was tipped off. Then, he was all power and movement, a terrifying wall Rakuzan struggled to push past.

Her sharp eyes followed every movement across the court, but her body remained still, collected, almost deceptively relaxed.

Rakuzan moved like a machine.

Akashi orchestrated from the top of the key with unflinching control, eyes always a second ahead. Himuro was guarding Mibuchi — elegant, composed, but pressured by the relentless pace of the game.

Murasakibara was holding the post, an unmovable anchor near the basket, swatting away early drives from Rakuzan's forwards with lethal ease. But it wasn't the blocks that caught Ren's eye.

It was the subtle things.

The slow shift of Murasakibara's weight when anticipating a rebound. The way his fingers twitched slightly when a screen approached, already calculating the adjustment. The delayed half-second where he sometimes didn't move — not out of laziness, but because he knew his opponent's rhythm would stall. It was eerie, almost lazy brilliance.

She found herself watching him longer than she meant to. His height certainly made him a stand out player, but his focused face was what Ren found the most captivating about him in his element.

On the court, Tagumara called for the ball at the wing. He dribbled past Rakuzan's second-string guard and cut inside — too fast. A collision followed. He hit the ground hard, skidding awkwardly on his left wrist.

The whistle blew and the referee called for a time out as Kenji remained down on the ground and wasn't getting up. He was clutching his wrist, face tight. Coach Akari and the rest of the team on the bench shot up in concern.

Ren was already in motion.

She knelt beside Kenji, hands quick but gentle, eyes scanning the bend of his wrist, the flush of the skin, how he cradled it.

"Pain level?" she asked, voice low but steady.

"'It's fine," Kenji muttered, trying to pull away and sitting up. "I just landed weird."

"You favor your left on drives," Ren noted, already beginning to tape his wrist. "You leaned too far inside because your step pattern was off. Overcompensated for the screen. I warned you about that last week."

He grunted.

Ren continued, more pointed now. "It's not fractured. Ligament's intact, but don't force it. You're also tight through your shoulder again. Do the stretch band exercise before second half or Araki's benching you."

"You're not the coach."

"No, but I'm the one who'll drag your broken ass off the court if you don't listen."

Coach Araki, arms crossed a few feet away, smirked quietly and offered no objections. The rest of the team had learned by now — when Ren spoke like that, she wasn't messing around.

Ren helped him stand up as Kenji tested the wrap, shaking his wrist slowly. He grumbled but didn't argue any more.

Kenji reached his arm out, his hand in a fist towards Ren. She answered it with her own fist bump, a small smile forming on both her and the stubborn Yosen player's lips.

"Go get 'em." Ren encouraged.

Across the court, Akashi's crimson eyes flicked toward the Yosen bench where Ren returned to. He murmured something to the Rakuzan player next to him, which Ren came to know as Hayama.

Switching her full focus back on to the court, Ren noted that Rakuzan's tempo had shifted. Akashi was pressing higher, baiting Yosen's zone defense into contraction. Their perimeter sagged.

Ren's eyes narrowed. From the sideline, she paced slightly, chewing the inside of her cheek.

"Mibuchi's hanging back," she noted aloud. "They're setting up to draw the defense tight and then swing it to the edge."

Yuki, bouncing excitedly on the balls of his feet nearby, blinked at her. "Huh?"

"Rakuzan's compressing the floor. They want to collapse the middle so they can punish you on the switch. If you keep letting Akashi draw Tagumara's attention, it's going to open a lane for Mibuchi to cut baseline."

Yuki blinked again. "...That's hot."

Ren raised her scrunched brows. "I'm going to break your kneecaps."

"...Still hot."

"Go sit down."

She turned back toward the bench just as Himuro dove for a loose ball, slamming into one of Rakuzan's taller forwards. A foul was called — tension rose.

Halftime came with Yosen down by 4. The gym buzzed with low grumbles, the slap of water bottles and towels. Ren hadn't sat once.

Coach Araki called the team together for a moment, and then — unexpectedly — turned to her.

"Minazuki. Thoughts?"

Ren looked up, startled. But then her eyes flicked toward the scoreboard, the rotation list, and the bench where Akashi sat unmoving—unbothered.

She stepped forward.

"Rakuzan is baiting your zone defense into compression. You're trying to overprotect the key, but they're using the extra space on the wings to control rhythm and drag you out of rotation. You're giving up the perimeter on purpose, but it's hurting you on recovery."

She turned to Tagumara.

"You're too slow on the slide. Either fix your rhythm or let someone else rotate for you. They're punishing your hesitation."

Tagumara opened his mouth, then closed it.

Ren wasn't done.

"Mibuchi is setting traps on the left edge. He fakes the fade to freeze your second man and then cuts under. You're not switching fast enough. Rakuzan's baseline is too clean."

There was silence.

Himuro raised an eyebrow. Yuki mouthed "whoa" behind his water bottle. Even Coach Araki blinked once before letting out a quiet, amused breath.

"You sure you don't want to coach?"

Ren smirked, walking away. "I like being hands-on."

But Murasakibara was watching her. From where he leaned lazily near the water cooler, protein bar in hand, his eyes followed her with quiet interest. He didn't say anything. Just chewed — slow, thoughtful.

The second half was even more intense.

Akashi adjusted Rakuzan's tempo — deliberate, surgical. Murasakibara became a wall in the paint, denying entry at every turn. At one point, he met their center mid-air and palmed the ball out of his hands like it weighed nothing.

The crowd gasped.

Ren, from the sideline, couldn't help but stay in awe of Atsushi as he played. He was a beast, an impenetrable defensive titan that truly was amazing at the sport. It was no surprise to Ren that he was one of the Generation of Miracles. She could see right through the careless exterior in the way he plays— he truly loves the game.

A small ache hit her heart. Ren couldn't decipher if it was from her matched passion for basketball or from just watching Murasakibara playing the sport they both loved.

The score closed. Yosen surged. But Rakuzan remained controlled — precise — and in the final minute, Akashi found a crack in their defense, slipping a no-look pass that led to the final, clean layup.

Rakuzan had won by two.

Chapter Text

The gym had mostly cleared out, leaving only scattered water bottles and a few echoing voices from the locker rooms.

Ren knelt beside her open med kit, carefully refolding gauze and snapping the lid back onto a half-used bottle of antiseptic. The buzz of voices behind her faded in and out—Yōsen's boys razzing each other, the Rakuzan players keeping more to themselves.

Her eyes drifted to the spot on the bench where she'd sat during the game. The energy was different now—settled. But inside her chest, something still stirred.

Riko's message was still there. Still waiting. She hadn't opened it again since before the game. The words weren't new, but they lived in her ribs now.

I apologize for this being so out of the blue, but there's an opportunity at Seirin that I think you'll love. I'd love to to meet and talk about it with you whenever you're free!

"Still here."

The voice behind her was quiet, composed.

Ren stood up, brushing her palms against her thighs before turning. Akashi stood there alone, his Rakuzan jacket slung neatly over one arm, gaze steady. His red eyes locked on hers, unreadable as always.

"Someone has to clean up after these guys," she said, half a shrug in her voice.

Akashi looked past her, toward the court.

"Not bad," he said. "Yosen gave us more of a challenge than I anticipated."

Ren gave a playful smirk. "You're welcome."

He tilted his head, a small smile forming. "I was referring to you."

"You were a player once."

It wasn't a question.

Ren's body tensed slightly. She hated how he said it—not unkindly, but with the weight of knowing.

"I was," she said evenly.

"You still see the game like one," he said, stepping closer. "Your read on the floor. Your attention to injuries before they happen. You saw Kenji's faults before he even noticed."

Ren looked away. "Old habits."

"Good ones," he replied. "Hyōrin taught you well."

Her eyes flicked back up at him. "You know a lot."

"I make it my business to," Akashi said. "That, and you're not as invisible as you think."

Before she could ask what he meant, Yuki jogged up and threw an arm around her shoulder.

"Minazuki-san come on! Dinner time! Let's go before Murasakibara eats half the restaurant by himself!"

"He already did that last week," Himuro added smoothly, adjusting the strap of his bag.

"Did not," Murasakibara muttered from behind them. "I shared the mochi."

"You bit the mochi in half and gave me the soggy end," Yuki groaned.

Akashi chuckled. "Sounds like a strong team bond."

Ren muttered under her breath, "Strong something, alright."

Behind them, Wei called out to Rakuzan, grinning. "Oi! You guys coming too? We'll share the good spicy pork if you're nice."

Akashi gave her a small nod. "Sounds fun, we'll join."

Ren blinked, surprised. But then Murasakibara's voice rumbled from behind her.

"Let's go already. I'm hungry."

Ren looked up at him. He was stretching one arm over his head, as if the game had been mildly inconvenient.

"You're always hungry," she muttered, but her lips tugged upward.

He blinked slowly. "Yeah."

******

The restaurant was noisy in a way that Ren found oddly soothing. Big tables, mismatched chairs, laughter bouncing off tiled walls, and a battered menu with sticky corners passed from hand to hand. The kind of place athletes could eat like animals and no one would care.

She ended up seated between Murasakibara and Himuro—again. She suspected it was on purpose, but she didn't push the thought.

Across from them sat Akashi and Wei. Yuki had already stolen three gyoza from someone's plate and was pretending he hadn't. Kenji had somehow gotten roped into ordering for the whole group and was barking at Yuki to pay attention.

Ren leaned her cheek against her hand, eyes scanning the table. Everyone was eating, talking over each other, grabbing dishes mid-story. She laughed when Yuki overreacted to spicy sauce, and again when Kenji and Wei argued over whether tofu was "real food."

It wasn't perfect, but it felt... close.

Still, she found herself pushing her noodles around more than she was eating them. Her appetite was tangled with thought—Riko, Seirin, the gym, the familiar burn of muscles in motion. The way she'd watched the game unfold and instinctively tracked every pivot and slip like she still belonged in it.

She didn't notice him watching her until she felt a soft clink near her bowl.

Murasakibara had slid a plate of sweet potato tempura toward her. He didn't say anything—just nudged it, then went back to chewing lazily on his own food like nothing happened.

Ren glanced at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Oh I'm fine."

He blinked. "You're not eating."

"I– Yes I am."

A beat.

"You suck at lying."

"No I don't!" Her cheeks flushed red. "I'm just... thinking."

"You do that a lot."

Ren opened her mouth to respond, but Murasakibara cut in first, voice low and casual.

"You get that face when you think too much."

Her chopsticks paused mid-air. "...What face?"

He shrugged lazily, not looking at her. "Kinda scrunchy. Like you're chewing a lemon... but on the inside."

Ren blinked. She hadn't even considered that he'd noticed those kinds of little things.

She began to hear her heart beat pounding in her ears. It felt like she was suddenly hyper aware of every little thing happening between them.

Atsushi kept chewing, slow as always, like it wasn't anything important. "And you've been staring at your plate for like ten minutes. That's weird. You like this place."

"I—" she started, unsure what she meant to say. She couldn't find any words, she was so flustered.

"I thought maybe the food was bad or something," he added, glancing at her briefly. "But Himuro said it's your favorite."

That made her pause. He... asked Himuro?

He sighed, reaching for the plate between them and nudging it closer to her side without looking. "You get real quiet when you're stuck in your head."

There was no teasing in his tone. Just a slow, thoughtful calm.

"...I dunno what you're thinking about, but you should eat. You look tired."

Ren stared at her plate, heart a little too warm, throat a little too tight. She didn't realize her fingers had gripped the edge of the table until he added, almost offhandedly:

"I'll trade you one of my dumplings for half your rice."

She choked out a laugh. "That's not a fair trade."

"Don't care," he mumbled, reaching his chopsticks over anyway.

Ren smiled, not realizing just how much being around Atsushi and the boys made her forget about her worries.

*****

The night air was cooler than expected, it tugged at the hem of Ren's jacket, brushing past her ears with a soft whisper of wind. Snow had started falling and gentle flurries drifted past the lamplight, collecting on the sidewalk and her hair.

The narrow street ahead of them was mostly quiet, lit only by the dull orange of streetlamps and the occasional glow from convenience store signs. It smelled faintly of sweet soy, like fried food clinging to the air after closing hours.

Atsushi walked beside her with his hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched ever so slightly, like he was folding in on himself from the cold or the silence—or maybe both. Their steps echoed on the pavement in mismatched rhythm: her light footfalls, his long, heavy strides.

He had offered—casually, almost carelessly—to walk her home.

"I'm already heading that way," he'd mumbled, chewing on the last of his mochi and not meeting her eye. "S'closer than the station anyway."

Now, they moved in companionable quiet, though Ren's thoughts were loud. Too loud.

Riko's message pulsed in her mind like a low drumbeat. She wasn't sure if it was hope or guilt weighing heavier in her chest. Probably both.

"You're scrunching your face again," Atsushi said.

Ren blinked and turned to him, startled. "Huh?"

He didn't look at her, eyes instead scanning the vending machine across the street like he might wander off for a snack. "That lemon-face thing. You did it just now."

"I don't—" She started to argue, but stopped. Then frowned. "...Do I really do that?"

A pause. Then a slow, barely-there nod. "Mm."

His answer made her smile, just faintly. "You're pretty perceptive huh? You notice the weird things."

"Not weird if it's always happening." He shrugged. "You were like that all day."

Ren fell silent again. She didn't mean to. It was just... easy to sink back into her head when her heart was buzzing like this. Too many thoughts, too many what-ifs.

"...Were you always this quiet after games?" Atsushi asked suddenly.

Ren blinked again, glancing up at him. "No. Not really."

Another beat passed before he added, slower this time, "I like when you talk."

Her steps slowed.

He rubbed the back of his neck, awkwardly. "Not, like... a lot. Just some."

"...Thanks?" she said, trying not to laugh but failing a little.

"I'm not good at talking," he muttered.

"You're doing fine," she said softly.

Ren looked up at him—really looked—and felt a pang in her chest. He wasn't trying to pry. He wasn't asking about Seirin, or why she'd been so off tonight. But still, he noticed. Still, he walked her home.

Still, he cared. In his own slow, sleepy, awkward way.

"You're not bad at talking, Atsushi," she said. "You just don't like saying things you don't mean."

He blinked. And for a moment, his usual half-lidded eyes opened just a touch wider.

They walked a bit farther in silence.

Then—

"Why'd you blush?"

Her foot nearly caught on the curb. "W-what?"

"You blushed. When I gave you food."

Ren whipped her head toward him. "Why are you noting that?!"

"I always notice when your face gets red. It's funny."

She groaned, pulling her scarf up to her nose. "You're actually the worst."

Murasakibara's gaze slid down to her as they crossed a quieter stretch of road. "You never blush around anyone else."

"That's not—!"

"Just me."

He said it so matter-of-factly it made her stumble. She stopped walking. "You can't just say things like that."

"Why not?"

"Because—!"

She trailed off, chest warm. Confused. Embarrassed. Flattered.

He watched her quietly. His expression wasn't teasing anymore. Just... focused.

"You're fun when you get flustered," he said softly.

Ren didn't reply. She just started walking again — fast. Murasakibara fell into step again easily, long legs catching up.

After awhile of them walking in the quiet, she hesitated, then said gently, "Thanks for walking me home."

He gave a slow nod, the corners of his mouth twitching like he was fighting a yawn. "S'nothing."

They stopped in front of her building. The silence stretched again, but this time it felt less hollow, more like a shared breath rather than empty space. Ren turned to go, one hand on the stair rail.

"Ren."

She turned back and looked up at him — breath visible in the cold, her cheeks flushed, heart pounding.

Atsushi was still watching her, expression unreadable. Then he shifted, slowly pulling a lollipop from his jacket pocket and holding it out toward her.

"...If you can't sleep," he mumbled, "sometimes sweet stuff helps."

Her fingers brushed his as she took it, a soft smile stretching to her blushed cheeks. "Thanks."

"...Goodnight, Atsushi."

He nodded. "Mm. Text me when you're in."

She blinked. "I'm already here."

"... So I don't have to wonder."

Her heart did something inconvenient.

"Fine," she stuttered, stepping backward up the stairs. "But only because you're annoying."

His smirk was lazy. "You say the nicest things, Ren-chin."

"G'night, Ren," he murmured, and the sound of her name in his voice made her knees go weak.

She rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed long after the door shut behind her.

Then she pulled out her phone.

Riko's message still sat there, waiting.

She opened it, her thumb hovering over the screen.

Then typed:

I'd love to talk, let's meet.

Chapter Text

The snow in Akita was melting, but the air still bit against Ren's cheeks when she stepped out of her apartment that morning.

Slush clung stubbornly to the curb edges, glistening under the pale morning sun. Her duffel bag, slung over one shoulder, held only the essentials: a change of clothes, her worn basketball shoes, and—because she'd learned from experience—two thermoses of tea.

Tokyo wasn't next door. The shinkansen would carry her from the quiet gray of Akita to the restless sprawl of the capital in under four hours, but mentally it felt like crossing into a different world.

The train rocked Ren into the kind of wakefulness that didn't need coffee—thin winter sunlight flashing between sound barriers, a ribbon of track unspooling toward Tokyo.

She sat with her cheek to the cold glass and the strap of her duffel looped around her wrist like a tether, counting the seconds between station announcements and the small, stubborn presses of her heart.

Riko's text from last night still sat above the others:

Yay! Come to Seirin tomorrow. Don't argue.

Which, knowing Riko, could mean anything from "I need you to taste test my new curry" to "we're moving a mountain before lunch."

Her phone buzzed again.

Atsushi: what time are you there
Ren: Noon-ish. Why?
Atsushi: just wondering

...

Atsushi: bring back melon bread from the big station. the soft one
Ren: That a bribe to make sure I come back?
Atsushi: no
Atsushi: yes

Ren snorted softly and tucked the phone away, letting the rhythm of wheels on track attempt to settle her nerves. She was excited to reunite with her childhood friend but the anxiety of the impending unknown that Riko was planning was eating at her.

By the time Tokyo flattened the horizon with glass and light, she was more ready than she expected—and not at all ready, somehow, all at the same time.

***

They met at the gate like they always did, as if they'd never paused their orbit. Riko was a slash of color against the gray—scarf crooked, hair bundled, smile edged with mischief.

"You look exactly the same," Riko announced, sliding the strap of a convenience store bag higher on her arm.

"You don't," Ren said, and meant it. Riko looked steadier now. Like winning had poured concrete in the right places.

"Gym?" Riko tipped her head, the bag rustling. "I brought food."

They cut through the courtyard, past a knot of first-years arguing over a forgotten math test, and into the gym doors. The air that met them was a mix of varnish and old victories. The lights hummed. The stage curtains slept like deep red mountains.

"Ten minutes 'til the boys roll in," Riko said, toeing her shoes off and stepping onto the polished floor with reverence. "Figured we could—"

"Illegally picnic," Ren finished, already smiling.

They took their spot on the center of the court in the soft rectangle of sun that slid through the high windows. Riko dumped the convenience store haul between them: onigiri, egg sandwiches, canned coffee, protein bars, and oranges that smelled a bit like childhood.

"Remember when we tried soccer," Riko said, peeling an orange with grim determination.

"You mean when you tripped on the grass and I kicked the air." Ren snagged an egg sandwich. "And the entire team basically told us to quit."

"We were... spirited." Riko smirked. "Basketball saved us."

"Your dad saved us," Ren corrected. "He let us dribble on the pro court when everyone else was cleaning up cones. Mine patched your nose when you tried a crossover and your face met gravity."

"Teamwork," Riko said, soft around the edges.

For a second, the gym wasn't a gym; it was the old arena, the echo of shoes and trainers' whistles, two little girls wearing oversized tees and ambition.

"How's he?" Riko asked. "Your dad."

"Good." Ren rolled the small can of coffee between her palms. "Still calls me to rant about bad taping technique on TV."

"Classic." Riko laughed, then paused. "You?"

"I..." Ren popped the tab, let the metallic bite of coffee fill her mouth. "I'm fine." A beat. "Busy. Yosen's... big. In every way. The boys strain everything. I keep them taped, iced, fed, and occasionally insulted into compliance."

Riko's eyebrows winged up. "Do they listen?"

"Mostly." Ren thought of Himuro's gentle smiles, Wei's dry humor, Kenji's stubbornness, Yuki's endless attempts at hitting on her. She thought of Atsushi's too-long shadow at her side, the way he handed her half his snack without looking, like it was obvious to him that she hadn't eaten in awhile. "Sometimes."

Riko watched her for a second like she was studying film. "We won the Winter Cup," she said, not bragging so much as setting a table. "It felt... like we grew into the thing we said we were."

"I watched," Ren admitted. "I yelled a lot."

"Hyuga cried," Riko added, eyes dancing.

"Of course he did."

Riko peeled another orange and nudged a wedge into Ren's hand. "The first-years are... something. Kagami's a meteor. Kuroko is a ghost the meteor listens to. It's ridiculous. I keep writing practices and then rewriting them because they break my drills."

Ren said nothing, but the little ache that had started on the train threaded itself between her ribs. The good kind of ache—the kind that meant there was still a place inside her that belonged to a court.

"What about Yosen?" Riko asked, voice careful. "How's... he?"

"Murasakibara?" Ren tried not to give away too much with the tilt of her mouth. "... Tall. Hungry. Pretends not to care until he does. He listens if you make it feel like his idea." She hesitated. "He's... softer than he wants to be."

Riko's smile said I know that tone. "You look good here," she said, flicking her gaze around the gym. "Like your lungs remember how to breathe."

Ren looked down at her socks against glossy wood. "Maybe."

The front doors banged. Voices spilled in: laughing, jostling, the metallic stutter of the ball rack. Practice had arrived like a weather front.

Izuki was the first to freeze. His eyes did the math, then doubled. "—uh. That a ghost?"

Koganei actually pointed. "Ren-senpai?!"

Hyuuga nearly walked into a folding chair. "You have got to be— You transferred and didn't say— Okay. Hi. Hello." His mouth found its way into a crooked grin. "You look like trouble."

Ren stood and bowed a little, because some habits survive transfer papers. "Hi."

Mitobe offered a solemn nod that said more than the rest of them combined.

Kagami, in the middle of unzipping his warmups, glanced over with a "Who's—" that cut off when Izuki elbowed him. Kuroko appeared next to Ren with the silent inevitability of sunrise.

"Oh! Hi Kuroko." Ren tried not to sound like his sudden appearance didn't jump scare her.

"Hello," he said, tone mild, eyes kind.

Riko clapped once, slicing the reunion before it turned into a pileup. "Warm-ups, now. You can interrogate my guest during water break."

They dispersed with a chorus of "Yes, coach," but not without a few backward looks that warmed Ren's face more than the space heater ever could. She and Riko retreated to the stage, the wooden lip where so many school festivals and tired afternoons had balanced. From there, the whole court fit like a photograph.

"Nostalgic yet?" Riko asked, folding her legs under her.

Ren let the ball sound sink through her bones. "Yeah."

They watched the lines form, dissolve, reform. Riko's voice carried crisp and confident, correcting footwork, cutting lazy routes before they settled. Midway through layup lines, Kagami landed and winced—the barest hitch. Ren didn't think; she stood.

"May I?" she asked Riko, already stepping down.

Riko's grin was permission enough. "Please."

Ren intercepted Kagami with a palm up. "Hold still."

Kagami blinked like he'd been caught doing something illegal. "Uh—yes, ma'am?"

She crouched, thumb tracing the line of his ankle, the subtle swelling. "It's not bad. Overuse and you didn't stretch properly. Tape for stability." She glanced up at him. "You jump like a god. Land like a toddler. You should fix that."

Kagami's ears went red. "I— Okay."

Izuki hovered, shamelessly watching. "She's back five minutes and already bullying our ace. I missed this."

"Hand me the tape," Ren said, deadpan, and he did. "Thank you."

Her hands moved without asking her permission—wrap, anchor, figure-eight, heel lock—gentle press, firm pull, smoothing the layers until they sat like a promise. Kagami rolled his ankle experimentally and blinked. "Whoa."

"Don't say 'whoa' like I did magic," she said, standing. "Do your stretches at night. Three sets. Don't be dumb, Kaga-dummy."

"Ren-senpai is scolding the meteor," Koganei marveled. "Historic."

"I don't even know you, you can't call me that!" Kagami barked at Ren.

Ren gave him a smirk and crossed her arms. Her face communicated everything she needed to the red haired giant.

Kagami's face wore a pout as it turned red and he lowered his head at Ren, "Uh– I mean– thank you... ma'am."

Riko's whistle split the air. "Back in line!"

Ren returned to the stage with her pulse steadier than it had been in months. The court moved, and she moved with it, even from above—counting steps, predicting passes. It felt like listening to a song she thought she'd forgotten and finding the chorus still stuck in her mouth.

"Thoughts?" Riko asked, eyes on the floor.

"Your second unit's help defense collapses too deep," Ren said without hesitation. "They're giving up the corner because they overcommit to paint. Also Hyuuga's left knee is compensating. He's babying it."

"Hyuga's..." Riko squinted. "Damn it, you're right."

"Swap Izuki to call earlier. Make the first step shallow. And tell Hyuuga to stop pretending he's immortal."

Riko side-eyed her, pride tucked under the dry tone. "Are you free on Tuesdays and Thursdays?"

Ren snorted. "What, for nagging?"

"Medical consultation," Riko said innocently. "And occasional, ah, exhibition."

Ren raised an eyebrow.

"Show them," Riko said, jerking her chin at the lonely hoop near the back.

"Riko," Ren warned, but Riko had already lifted the whistle, two quick blasts pulling eyes upward.

"Alright boys, meet my guest!" Riko called, half-amused. "This is Ren. She was here before half of you knew which end of a court was up. She's got a handle and a shot that made grown men cry. If she says your ankle needs tape, you say 'thank you' and hand her your foot. Now—Ren?" She tilted her head. "Indulge us."

Ren could have refused. Should have, probably. But the space between her ribs had turned bright and reckless.

She dropped from the stage, tying her long teal hair back, palms grazing the ball rack for something that fit right. The ball chose her back—old weight, old spin. She bounced once, twice, shrugged out of her jacket, and moved.

It came back like muscle and light. A drift dribble to the elbow, crossover, two hard steps into a gather that skimmed the paint—she didn't jump high, didn't need to. She kissed the glass and listened for that tender chik of net that says the geometry was true. The second ball rolled into a step-back three at the wing, a shot she'd taught herself to find space where none existed. Swish. A pull-up at the top, rhythm first, legs second. Swish.

"Okay, that's enough," Ren huffed, cheeks warm, blowing hair out of her eyes as the sound in the gym swelled into a low, pleased roar. She shook out her legs, as the muscles burned a bit more than she was used to. "Man, I was not prepared for that. Should've stretched."

"That's not nearly enough," Koganei whispered like a prayer, eyes wide in awe.

Hyuuga shook his head, a crooked smile undoing his tough. "Y'know, I forgot what it felt like to get shown up by someone who isn't Kagami. Thanks for the humility."

Riko's grin was all teeth. "Back to work!"

The drills ramped. Hyuuga took point, barked counts, organized chaos into a neat kind. They ran shells, three-man weave with a trailing shooter, free-throw punishments when anyone flinched. Ren sat again beside Riko, both of them swinging their feet off the stage like they were twelve, except they carried whole teams now in their pockets.

For a while, they didn't talk. They didn't need to. The gym filled itself.

Then, when water-runs thinned the noise, Riko spoke without looking at her. "You know I didn't drag you across prefectures for egg sandwiches."

Ren hummed. "Figured."

Riko rolled the empty can of coffee between her palms. "Seirin's board came to me after Winter Cup. They... want to expand. Parents have been asking. Little sisters wearing Hyuuga's number. You know the vibe."

Ren's breath caught a fraction. Riko's voice was steady, but the edges gleamed.

"They want me to start a girls' team," Riko said. "And... I want you to be the captain."

Ren didn't realize she'd gripped the edge of the stage until the wood creaked. The court didn't stop; it kept being a court. But something in the frequency of the room shifted, like an instrument tuned a hair tighter.

"Riko," she said, barely there.

"Not tomorrow," Riko added quickly. "Not before you think about it. But I want you in at the ground floor. I want you to help me build it right. The way we used to draw plays in the margins of math homework. You—" She paused, finding the word. "You're the kind of player people shape themselves around."

The gym buzzed, barely contained. Ren's pulse did a strange, hungry thing.

Riko tipped her head, just enough so only Ren could catch it. "So," she murmured. "What do you say?"

Ren swallowed, the word not ready yet, her chest too full of sneakers and laughter and the clean line of the three she'd sunk without thinking. She looked down at the floor she'd memorized, at the faces turned up toward her—boys she knew and boys she didn't, a court that still knew her feet.

She didn't answer.

Ren sat there on the gym's stage, Riko's words ringing in her ears. A girls' team at Seirin. Playing again. It was everything she'd thought she'd buried, everything she'd convinced herself she could live without.

Her fingers curled against the worn wood as she glanced toward the court, watching Kagami explode off the ground for a dunk and hearing Hyuuga's sharp voice call out the next drill. The energy in the gym was infectious, familiar. Her chest felt tight with something like longing.

But then, unbidden, her mind drifted north—snow-dusted courts, the echo of the ball against Yosen's walls, and a tall, lazy figure leaning against the post with a half-smile only she ever seemed to earn. Atsushi. Her team. Her place.

Two worlds were tugging at her—one rooted in the ice and quiet of Yosen, the other alive with the heat and promise of Seirin.

She didn't understand why the choice felt so heavy, or why her thoughts kept circling back to Atsushi and the way he'd look at her like she was the only thing worth paying attention to.

For the first time in a while, Ren wasn't sure which place her heart would choose... or why a choice so seemingly obvious, was so painfully difficult.

Chapter Text

The boys' practice had ended, their laughter and the sound of sneakers fading into the locker rooms.

The gym smelled faintly of pine wood and resin, the air still holding the echoes of whistles and shouts.

Ren stayed seated on the edge of the stage beside Riko, her legs dangling, water bottle rolling lightly between her palms.

Her mind was still reeling from what Riko had just dropped on her.

A girls' basketball team. At Seirin. Riko wanted her to lead it.

Ren was still trying to catch up when she caught the faintest smirk tugging at her friend's lips.

"What?" she asked warily.

Riko leaned back on her palms, the picture of smug patience. "Well... do you want to meet them?"

Ren blinked. "Them?"

"The girls," Riko said, all too casually.

Ren sat up straighter. "Wait—you have players already?"

Riko's smirk turned into a grin. "Not a full roster, but... three who've shown interest. Asking questions. Watching the boys. They've been talking about the possibility of a girls' team, so I told them they could come watch practice sometimes. Maybe help out while everything gets figured out."

Ren stared at her. "You planned for them to be here today, didn't you?"

"Of course," Riko said with zero shame. "You think I'd waste a perfect chance to let them meet you?"

Ren groaned, scrubbing her hands over her face. "Of course you did."

Right on cue, the gym doors creaked open, and three girls stepped inside.

The gym doors creaked open, and three girls stepped inside, voices low as they scanned the court.

The tallest of the trio moved with quiet confidence. Her long black ponytail swayed behind her, and she had the calm, steady grey eyes of someone who didn't need to fill silence to be heard.

The second was her opposite—shorter, pink hair tied up in two messy buns, and wide green eyes. Her energy poured out from her as she bounced on her toes, her gaze darting from the court lines to the scoreboard to the rack of balls in the corner.

The third hung back half a step, adjusting her silver white hair, attempting to push her bangs out of her eyes by tucking some hair behind her ear. One of her eyes remained hidden by her hair still but Ren could still see her kind blue eyes. She reminded her of Himuro a bit. Calm, collected, but icy determination burning like blue hot fire.

"Girls, this is Ren Minazuki," Riko announced brightly. "A close friend, and one of the best players I've ever had the privilege of working with."

Ren nearly choked. "You're overselling me."

Riko ignored her "Ren, these are Maki, Izumi, and Noriko. They're interested in making history with Seirin's first girls' basketball team."

The tall one stepped forward first, grey eyes sharp. "Maki Shimizu," she said, offering a small nod. "Forward. I've played since middle school."

Ren returned the nod. "Your footwork looked solid coming in. You play volleyball too?"

Maki blinked. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"Posture," Ren said with a small smile. "And your stride. You've got a volleyball approach when you move."

Maki grinned faintly, and Ren felt a flicker of connection.

The shorter girl bounced forward next, her green eyes sparkling with excitement. "Izumi Natori! Shooting guard. I like fast breaks, corner threes, and annoying anyone who thinks they can guard me."

Ren laughed. "Sounds like you're allergic to slowing down."

Izumi smirked. "Life's too short for half-speed."

Ren already liked her.

The last girl hesitated until Riko tilted her head toward her.

"Uh—Noriko Fujimoto," she said softly, hiding slightly behind her silver hair. "I've... never actually played on a real team. But I watch games all the time. And I've been taking notes on Seirin's drills. I really want to learn."

She flipped her notebook open, showing Ren messy diagrams of half-court sets.

Ren's brows rose. "These are... actually pretty good. You've got an eye for spacing."

Noriko flushed, ducking her head.

They lingered by the court for a while, the three firing off questions—what position Ren played, how Yosen's practices compared to Seirin's, and if Ren was really going to be their captain.

Ren answered them honestly, but with every answer, the weight in her chest grew.

These weren't just curious onlookers. They were ready. They were picturing themselves in uniforms, on this court, with her at the helm.

By the time the conversation wound down, she wasn't sure if she was more flattered... or scared of how badly she wanted to say yes.

*******

Ren leaned her head against the train window, the cool glass pressing against her temple as Tokyo blurred into streaks of silver and orange in the fading daylight.

The rhythmic clatter of the tracks should've been soothing, but her thoughts refused to settle.

Her mind kept replaying the past few hours in loops—the steady confidence in Maki's voice, Izumi's irrepressible energy, Noriko's shy but meticulous aura.

They weren't just ideas on paper anymore. They were real people with real potential, staring at her like she already was their captain.

Her chest tightened.

She wanted it. She wanted the challenge, the thrill, the responsibility. But the moment she imagined telling Coach Araki... telling Atsushi... her stomach twisted.

Her reflection in the window shifted with each passing tunnel, her own eyes shadowed and tired.

Why was she so torn?

Honestly, deep down ---she already knew.

She pictured Yosen's gym, the echo of sneakers on polished wood, the deep rumble of Atsushi's voice calling her name in that half-lazy, half-serious way.

She pictured the team's ridiculous banter, the way they had made space for her without question. They weren't just teammates anymore—they were hers.

And Atsushi...

Her fingers curled into her scarf.

She didn't know when he'd gone from an intimidating wall of a player to someone who could tilt her whole day with a single offhand comment. She didn't know when she'd started noticing the quiet ways he watched out for her.

The train rocked slightly, jostling her from her thoughts. The weight in her chest didn't lift. If anything, it grew heavier the closer she got to home.

When the station's platform came into view, she still had no answers—just the unsettling realization that no matter what she chose, something in her life would change.

******

By the time Ren's train rattled into Akita, the winter sky had already sunk into an indigo gloom.

Her breath fogged in front of her as she stepped out into the crisp air, scarf pulled tight against the bite of the wind.

She told herself she should head straight to Yosen. Practice would be starting soon.

The gym lights would already be warming the court, sneakers squeaking against polished wood, voices echoing in the cavernous space.

But the thought of walking through those doors tonight made her chest feel too heavy.

She didn't want to see Kenji or hear Yuki's shameless flirting. She didn't want to see Himuro's knowing eyes or Coach Araki's sharp, assessing gaze.

And most of all... she didn't want to see Atsushi— even though she kind of did.

With the day's thoughts still swirling in her head like a storm she couldn't quiet, he was both the person she wanted to avoid and the only one she wanted to word vomit everything to.

She was tired and overwhelmed with everything she had just learned and all the sudden choices she needed to weigh.

So instead of turning left toward the gym, she took a right and headed home.

By the time Ren reached her building, her limbs felt heavier than they should.

Every step up the narrow flight of stairs was a small battle, the straps of her bag digging into her sore shoulders.

She unlocked her door and was greeted by the same still quiet, the only noise being the faint hum of the heater and the distant rush of the wind outside.

She dropped her bag just by the door and shuffled toward the couch, her scarf still looped around her neck.

Her whole body felt... sluggish.

Maybe it was just the mental drain of the day—Riko's news still echoing in her mind—but there was also a faint ache in her temples, and her throat felt scratchy, the way it did before a cold settled in.

Outside, fat snowflakes drifted past her window, slow and steady at first, but growing denser with each passing minute. The wind had picked up, rattling the panes every so often. It wasn't unusual for Akita this time of year, but something about the way the snow was already sticking to the glass made her think of the kind of storm that didn't let up for days.

She didn't bother turning on the TV. The low hum of the heater and the muffled hush of falling snow were all the sound she needed.

She curled onto the couch without even changing out of her clothes, tugging the throw blanket over herself.

Her mind kept trying to spin through the day—Riko's bright, determined eyes, the eager voices of the girls, the thought of Yosen, the thought of him—but her body had already made the decision for her.

Somewhere between one breath and the next, the warmth of the blanket and the soft white noise outside pulled her under.

The last thing she registered was the faint creak of wind against her window and the snow's slow, steady fall lulling her to sleep.

******

A muffled thud pulled her from the fog of sleep.

At first, she thought it was just the wind knocking something loose outside, but then it came again—more deliberate.

Knocking.

Ren blinked herself awake, disoriented by the dim light filtering through the curtains. The snow had thickened while she slept, turning the world beyond her window into a hazy blur of white.

Her phone, lying face down on the coffee table, buzzed with a faint vibration.

She dragged herself upright, rubbing her eyes, and padded toward the door, blanket still draped over her shoulders, scarf still tangled around her neck.

When she opened it, the blast of cold air hit her first—then the tall figure standing there, dusted with snow.

"... Atsushi?" Her voice was hoarse, surprise and confusion tangled together.

He stood in the hallway, hair mussed from the wind, the faintest crease between his brows.

"You didn't come to practice," he said, voice slow, almost lazy, but with an edge of something else beneath it. " And you weren't answering your phone."

Ren glanced toward the table where her phone lay. The vibrations must've been from all the missed calls.

"I... fell asleep," she admitted, pulling the blanket tighter, suddenly aware of the mess she must look like. "You walked here? In this?"

He shrugged, as if trekking through a snowstorm to check on her was nothing. "Yeah. I was just checking on you."

Her chest tightened—part guilt, part something softer she didn't want to name. "You didn't have to—"

"Mm. I wanted to." He stepped forward just enough that the snow clinging to him melted onto her entryway floor.

His gaze swept over her, lingering for a second on the way she was still wrapped in the blanket, like he was quietly cataloging all the things she wasn't saying.

"You look tired," he murmured.

Ren tried for a small smile. "I'll be fine."

Instead of answering, he stepped inside and nudged the door shut behind him, bringing the sharp scent of snow and the quiet weight of his presence with him.

"Mm. I'll stay for a bit," he said simply, like it was already decided. "It's cold out."

Ren blinked at him, her heart thudding  a little too fast. "You—"

A gust of wind rattled the window, making the lights flicker. Outside, the snow was still falling—heavier now.

She wasn't sure which made her more nervous: the winter storm, or the fact that Atsushi Murasakibara was in her apartment. And they were alone.

Chapter Text

The wind rattled the windows as Atsushi stepped further inside, stomping the snow from his boots.

Ren was still wrapped in her winter clothes, her hair a tangled mess from accidentally falling asleep on her couch.

She barely moved since answering the door—still standing there in the entryway, cheeks pink and a faint glaze in her eyes.

"You look... kinda gross," he muttered, eyes sliding over her scarf still hanging crooked around her neck, the sweater she hadn't changed out of, and the weary shadows under her eyes.

Ren blinked, her cheeks flushing hot. "Excuse me?!"

"Mm." He shrugged, like he was just announcing the weather. "Gross. Tired. Sick or something."

"You didn't change when you got home?" Atsushi frowned, tugging off his gloves.

"I... sat down for a bit," she admitted, voice scratchy. She sniffled softly, trying to play it off.

He arched a brow. "You fell asleep in those clothes, didn't you?"

"Uh... maybe."

Ren tried to turn away before he could read her face too much, but Atsushi just shook his head and wandered toward the kitchen, setting a convenience store bag on the counter. "You're going to make yourself sick if you aren't already."

"I'm fine," she said quickly, following him. It came out more defensive than she intended, but she felt oddly embarrassed having him notice.

She tugged the scarf loose in protest. "I just—fell asleep, that's all. Normal people do that after traveling all day."

Ren still couldn't quite believe he was standing in her tiny apartment. He looked impossibly tall against her low ceilings, shoulders hunched in his hoodie like a cat tolerating a bath.

Atsushi hummed, lavender hair still dusted faintly with snowflakes, and continued to rummage through her kitchen without permission like he'd been there dozens of times.

Ren was attempting to tame some of her messy hair when Atsushi closed the drawer he was searching and flicked his lazy gaze back onto her, pointing at her couch.

"Sit," he said, a bottled tea in his hand and a heat pack he found in her kitchen. "You're moving slow."

Ren widened her eyes at him but turned towards the living room and dropped onto the couch without arguing.

She only noticed how cold she was when the heater's fan brushed her ankles, sending a chill throughout her. She grabbed the throw blanket she left sprawled on her couch and wrapped herself in its warmth.

Outside, wind pressed against the building, a low, steady hum; snow hissed across the balcony glass in sharp, icy grains. The world beyond her window was already losing its edges, houses and streetlights softened into smudges.

Atsushi handed her the heat pack and the warm bottle. "Drink."

"You're bossy," she said, but took the drink, holding the bottle with both hands, grateful for the heat.

He slouched onto the other end of the couch, legs long enough that his socked foot bumped the coffee table.

For a minute they said nothing, just listened to the winter storm rearrange the night.

The longer the silence continued, the more hyper aware Ren became of the space between them and how packed it was with a certain kind of tension that made her ears hot.

Her gaze lingered over Atsushi, taking in his large frame sprawled lazily on her couch. She felt even smaller sitting this close to him, despite his shoulders being hunched over from leaning his head on his palm.

His violet eyes seemed to glisten from the bright reflection of the moonlight and snow outside, it illuminated her dim lit living room through the balcony doors.

Ren found herself encapsulated by him, suddenly realizing Atsushi's thigh was so close to the blanket she was using. Her face felt even warmer.

Is he cold? Should she share her blanket with him? Is she being rude?

She needed to calm down.

Ren shook her head to rid her brain of her ridiculous thoughts and crossed her arms, needing a distraction.

"You know... you could've said, 'Hi, Ren,' or 'You look tired, are you okay' or literally anything else besides gross."

A lazy grin curved across his mouth. "But 'gross' made you puff up like a balloon. Way funnier."

Ren sputtered, caught between indignation and reluctant laughter. "You're impossible."

She turned away, tugging at her sleeves, embarrassed by how stiff and rumpled she felt.

Her nose tickled again, and she quickly rubbed at it before he could notice. He didn't say anything, but his grin lingered, like he'd already won.

Ren pressed her palms against her knees, trying to will the heaviness out of her chest. She hadn't meant to fall asleep, hadn't even changed clothes after getting home.

Her body felt like lead, every bone aching from the trip back from Tokyo, from the hours she'd spent spinning Riko's words around in her head until they hurt.

She risked another glance at Atsushi.

He was watching the window again, one hand absently tearing apart a loose thread on her blanket. His presence was strangely grounding — steady in a way the rattling glass and flickering ceiling light weren't.

She should say something.

Explain and let out everything that was a swirling hurricane of thoughts and emotions in her head. He deserved that much after trudging through this weather just to simply check on her.

But the words caught in her throat.

"You're staring," he said without looking at her, face still towards the snow piled balcony.

Ren jumped, heat rushing to her face. "I— I wasn't!"

"Yeah, you were." His lips tugged upward in the faintest smirk, and she wanted to shove him off the couch.

Instead she folded her arms tight. "I... went to Seirin today," she blurted, surprising even herself.

That got his attention.

His head turned, pale purple eyes blinking at her through strands of lavender hair. "...Huh? Why."

For a moment she hesitated, hands fiddling with her blanket, weighing the words in her chest.

It wasn't something she'd meant to tell him yet—it was too new, too uncertain. She wasn't even sure how she felt about it herself.

But Atsushi was here, sprawled across her couch like a storm blown in with the snow, waiting in that patient, infuriatingly quiet way of his.

Ren swallowed. Her nails dug crescents into her sleeves. "Riko... she asked me to come. She asked me to... consider something. Something big."

Atsushi blinked again, slow. "The girl coach?"

Ren nodded, the knot in her chest tightening.

His head tilted lazily over the back of the couch, violet eyes catching the dim light. "Something big? Like what?"

"She wants to start a... a girls' team. At Seirin. And wants me to be captain."

The words hung heavy between them.

Saying them out loud made it real — more real than when Riko had leaned forward with that knowing spark in her eye, more real than when Ren had met the girls themselves.

She felt exposed, fragile, waiting for him to laugh or dismiss it.

But for once, Atsushi didn't immediately reply.

He blinked at her, slow and deliberate, like he was letting the words settle.

The storm rattled faintly at the windows, the hush of snow filling the silence between them.

Atsushi only leaned back again, gaze flicking lazily back to the storm outside. "...Huh."

"That's it?" Ren demanded before she could stop herself.

"What." He scratched absently at his cheek. "It's new, right? Just an idea."

"Yes, but—" Her voice cracked, too sharp, too desperate. "It's real. It could actually happen. And if it does, I..." She trailed off, unable to finish.

Her chest felt tight. The warmth of the room seemed to fall away, replaced by the wild whistle of wind clawing against the walls.

Finally, he stretched, folding his arms behind his head. "So that's why you look... all twisty in the face."

Ren gaped at him. "Twisty?"

"Yeah. Like you're pulling two directions at once." He yawned, but there was something sharper in his gaze now, even if his voice stayed languid.

Atsushi stretched, unconcerned, as if they weren't teetering on the edge of something huge. His shoulders brushed the back of the couch, his legs nearly crowding the table again.

"You're thinking too hard," he muttered.

Ren opened her mouth to argue, but the dim lights flickered violently overhead. The storm bellowed, a gust so strong it rattled the windowpane in its frame.

Both of them looked up at the same time, the tension snapping into silence.

Ren's throat tightened. "It's getting worse out there."

"Yeah," Atsushi agreed, entirely unbothered.

"You should—" she hesitated, clutching the edge of the couch cushion — "you should probably head home before it gets worse. You don't want to get stuck here."

His eyes slid to her, half-lidded, bored. "Don't care."

Her heart gave a wild, confusing lurch.

"Y-you don't care if you get snowed in?" she tried weakly.

"Nope. Don't wanna walk through it again. I'll stay."

Just like that. Simple. Certain.

Ren's fingers dug harder into the cushion, pulse thrumming in her ears. She should argue — tell him it was ridiculous, tell him he couldn't just decide things like that — but the words died in her mouth.

The storm groaned against the building again, and before she could think of a reply, the lights sputtered once more, twice.

Then went out.

They were left in the dark gray of the storm-filtered evening, the hum of the heater cutting off being the only sound left as the muffled howl of wind outside continued.

She heard Atsushi's voice next to her in the darkness—calm, amused. "Well... guess I'm not going anywhere now."

Chapter Text

The room fell into silence as the lights cut out, plunging them into darkness. For a heartbeat, Ren sat frozen beside Atsushi on the couch, heart thundering in her ears.

Beside her, Atsushi shifted lazily, completely unfazed. "Mm. Guess that's that." His voice was calm, low, filling the sudden hush like it belonged there.

Ren blinked, her eyes straining to adjust. The storm outside pressed against the walls, snow pelting the windows in a steady rhythm. The room felt instantly colder, as though the dark itself had teeth.

"Looks like the power's out," Ren murmured. She rubbed her arms for warmth, sniffled once, and sighed.

Atsushi shifted lazily on the couch, but his voice carried a surprising thread of focus. "Do you have candles or a flashlight or something?"

Ren nodded, though she felt a little unsteady as she stood. "Mm, yeah. In the kitchen drawer... maybe."

Her knees wobbled as the exhaustion in her body made itself known again. She rubbed at her temple, trying to think through the fog in her head. "I-I can look for them."

"Sit," Atsushi said simply, already pushing himself up to his full towering height. "I'll look."

But Ren shook her head, stubborn as ever. "I know where everything is. You'll just—" She sniffled, the sound humiliating in the still room. "—make a mess."

Even so, she swayed on her feet when she started towards the kitchen. Atsushi was there instantly, a warm, steadying hand brushing her arm. His touch lingered a little too long, like he wasn't sure if she'd tip over again.

"I'm fine," she muttered, but her voice cracked.

They shuffled together through the dark, bumping shoulders in the narrow hallway. Atsushi moved like he had all the time in the world, while Ren fumbled with the drawers, pulling them open one by one.

The air was cool, faintly smelling of wood and wax as she finally produced a mismatched collection: a small box of candles, half-burned from some long-ago use, and a dusty flashlight that flickered weakly to life.

"Better than nothing I guess," Atsushi said, taking the flashlight from her hand and testing it.

Ren attempted to light the first candle with shaking hands, her fingertips numb, shielding the flame with her palm. A sudden cough from her scratchy throat made the match flicker and spud out.

Atsushi's eyes slid to her. He squinted, gaze lingering a little too long.

"You're still in the same clothes you wore outside."

Ren froze, caught, then laughed weakly in an attempt to hide her embarrassment. "So what? It's warm."

"It's not," he countered. "You look... gross."

Her mouth fell open in offense. "Stop saying I look gross!"

"Sorry, you do though. Sniffling. Pale. Bundled up like some... abandoned snowman." He said it flatly, no malice, just fact.

"You'll just get sicker if you don't change," he said flatly, like it was obvious.

"I'm fine," she started again, but another sniffle betrayed her

Atsushi arched a brow. "Gross and stubborn," he muttered. "Change. I'll light the candles."

She would have smacked him if she had the strength. Instead, she sniffed again, which only proved his point. Her shoulders slumped.

"...Fine. I'll change."

She trudged toward her room, each step feeling heavier than the last. Atsushi didn't move, only leaned back lazily against the kitchen counter with that expression that said I told you so without needing words.

********

Inside her room, Ren shut the door behind her and leaned against it, already out of breath. Her scarf slid off her shoulders, landing limply on the floor.

She reached for the hem of her sweater, tugging it upward—only for the sleeves to catch awkwardly on her wrists. She fought with it, arms raised, head half-covered, fabric pressing against her nose.

Her balance wavered. She stumbled, almost falling down, sweater still trapping her halfway. She struggled again, arms flailing like a bird caught in netting.

Ren tried. She really did.

But her body felt heavier with each movement, her arms sluggish and clumsy. She tugged at her sweater, caught in its too-tight sleeves, stumbling back against the bed until she fell with a muffled groan.

Ren let out a deep breath, a pit of nausea started to stir in her stomach due to her body being so weak. The little exertion it took to remove her heavy clothes was enough to take her out.

Fabric smothered her face. She flailed uselessly. The room spun slightly.

This was so frustrating.

The door creaked. "Ren-chin?" Atsushi's voice. Too close.

She heard the door crack open slightly, light spilling in from the candle Atsushi carried. Ren shot upright, sweater still tangled over her head. Her blood turned to fire.

"Sheesh, why are you taking forever?" he asked, already stepping inside.

Her heart shot into her throat as she yelped. "D-don't come in!!"

Too late. The knob continued to turn anyway, and the door swung open. In came Atsushi, a candle in hand, the dim light illuminating her hopeless tangle.

He set the candle on her dresser and raised a brow. He stopped. Stared. And then—one corner of his mouth lifted.

"...Pathetic," he muttered softly, amusement curling his voice.

Ren wanted to disappear, her face burned hotter than her fever. "Don't just stand there! A little help please—b-but close your eyes!"

Atsushi stepped further into her room, tilting his head. He blink down at her, unbothered.

"... Why?"

"Because I'm not letting you see me half-naked, that's why!!"

His mouth twitched, fighting a smirk, but he sighed and shut his eyes with deliberate slowness. "Happy?"

"Not even a little," she grumbled. Her face was on fire. "Just—help already. And— eyes closed, I mean it!"

Atsushi reached forward, fumbling blindly for the hem of her sweater. Ren squirmed, her heart bursting at how close he was.

He tugged her sweater upwards, helping her wriggle weakly out of her tangled mess. She flinched at every accidental brush of his hands along her sides. The sudden warmth against her cold skin sent bolts of electricity throughout her entire body.

Maybe it wasn't just the contrasting temperature making her body... naturally react, but the fact that Atsushi was... touching her. Even if just accidentally, it was too much for her to bare, too— intimate.

"Stop squirming," he ordered.

"You're making me!" she snapped back.

"You're the one stuck, not me."

Her elbow knocked against his chest, his hand brushed her hair, and her voice cracked in embarrassment. "This is so humiliating..."

"More humiliating to die in there," he deadpanned.

Despite her shouts, his large hands finally tugged the sweater free, pulling it over her head in one swift motion. Ren popped out, hair wild and face scarlet. She snatched the sweater from Atsushi's hands, clutching it protectively against her chest that was only covered by a sports bra.

Ren huffed, cheeks burning. "You sure took your sweet time..." She glared at him, " And I told you not to peek!"

"My eyes were closed," he replied evenly, though his smirk said otherwise. "...Mostly."

She chose to ignore his comment.

"Fine. Now just—get me my pajamas." She pointed weakly toward the dresser. "Second drawer down."

Atsushi ambled over, tugged open a drawer—then froze.

Ren's heart stopped.

In his hand dangled not pajamas, but a lacy scrap of fabric that should have stayed hidden forever.

A beat of silence.

"...Cute," he said finally, holding it up between two fingers.

Ren launched upright, nearly toppling off the bed. "N-NOT THAT ONE!!"

His smirk widened as he turned it slightly in the candlelight. "Could've fooled me. Thought this was the comfy stuff."

"Put it back!!" she shrieked, face flaming red.

He set it down with unhurried calm, still smirking, and opened the correct drawer this time. From it, he pulled out a soft sweatshirt and pajama bottoms, tossing them onto her lap.

"Here," he said simply. "Try not to take an hour this time."

Ren yanked them with trembling hands, too flustered to argue further. She groaned, burying her face in the sweatshirt before pulling it on. She wasn't sure if the heat in her cheeks was from her fever or him.

Definitely both.

Chapter Text

Ren reemerged from her room in the sweatshirt and flannel pants Atsushi had tossed at her, sleeves swallowing her cold hands.

The apartment was a pocket of amber light: three candles on the coffee table, one on the kitchen counter, their flames bowing whenever the wind pressed hard at the windows. 

Outside, the storm had turned the world into a white hiss. Inside, it smelled faintly of wax, winter air, and the last traces of Atsushi's snow-damp hoodie.

He'd claimed the couch like a cat—sprawled long, one knee propped, blanket draped carelessly over his legs.

His gaze lifted when she padded in. For half a heartbeat Ren thought he'd mention the pajama fiasco, but he only blinked, slow, and said, "Better."

She tucked her chin. "Don't start."

"Wasn't," he said, already scooting his blanket aside in a silent invitation. "Sit. You're still shivery."

"I'm fine," she murmured, but her voice rasped and the word fogged the air in the shallow cold.

She sat anyway, leaving space between them; he erased it by tugging the edge of his blanket over her lap, knuckles brushing her knee. A small, electric warmth climbed through her at the accidental touch.

The heater was dead, and with every minute she felt the room cooling in thin degrees—the kind you'd miss if not for the goose bumps at your wrists. 

Atsushi noticed those, apparently. He reached, snagged the throw she'd left on the armrest and wrapped it over her shoulders with a clumsy sort of care.

"There," he said. "Less sicky."

She shot him a look that was more fond than annoyed.

A small curl of a smile tugged at his mouth. The wind rattled the pane again; the candles guttered and recovered.

To fill the quiet, Ren cleared her throat. "We could... I don't know. Play something? Until the power comes back."

Atsushi tipped his head, considering. "Let's play questions."

Ren was shocked. "Wow, thought you hate games."

"I hate being bored more." He yawned. "You start."

Ren tucked her feet under her and tried to ignore how heavy her head felt. "Alright... favorite dessert?"

"Pocky."

"That's not a dessert."

"For me it is." He flicked his eyes to her. "My turn. Have you ever skipped practice?"

Her guilty silence answered. His mouth quirked. "Thought so."

"Don't keep score," she warned.

"Already won."

She tried to pout and failed; her lips twitched. "What's something you want to do after basketball?"

"Sleep," he said immediately, then, after a beat, "And eat."

"That's what you want to do during basketball."

"Consistency's important." He studied her face. "Your turn's boring. You look red."

"That's not a question," she said, pulling the blanket higher. The flush wasn't... all fever.

Atsushi exhaled like this was hard labor. "Fine. Do you always look this red when someone asks you something?"

"N-no!" She cleared her throat.

"Mm. So just me then."

Ren made a quiet noise into her collar. The storm hummed, a low metal moan along the balcony frame. The candles' light trembled, painting his profile in warm planes and shadow.

She regrouped. "What's your... earliest basketball memory?"

He stared at the ceiling. "Being tall. People handing me the ball because of it. It was heavy, but it felt... easy." His voice had a deeper, softer edge she wasn't used to. "I liked that."

Ren smiled into the blanket. "That wasn't boring."

"Mm." He swiveled his gaze back, and mischief returned. "Do you drool when you sleep?"

Her head snapped up. "What kind of—no!"

"So you do," he said, satisfied.

"I don't."

"Okay." He didn't sound convinced at all. "Do you sing in the shower?"

"Atsushi!"

"That's not a no either."

"Stop! I don't need your mind picturing me in the shower!"

Atsushi smirked mischievously again, "Too late."

She made an outraged noise and then ruined it with a little cough she tried to bury in her sleeve. The sound scraped.

Atsushi's attention sharpened in a way most people would miss; he reached, caught the water bottle on the table, and nudged it into her hands without looking like he was doing anything special.

"Drink," he said.

She did. The cool slip of water soothed the ache in her throat. "Thanks."

He slouched deeper. "Okay. Have you ever thought about kissing anyone on the team?"

Heat detonated in her chest. "W-what—absolutely not—that's—that's—"

"So yes," he said, completely calm.

"It's not— I—" Words collided and fell apart. She hid behind the blanket, mortified. "You can't just ask things like that!"

"That's the game," he said, unhelpful. "Your turn."

Ren inhaled, tried to aim for even. "Do you... ever get lonely?"

He went still, just for a blink. Then: "No. I get sleepy." A lazier boy would have left it there; he didn't. "Sometimes lonely," he added, like admitting hunger. "But it's quiet. I don't mind quiet."

Ren studied the candlelight pooling in his eyes and felt something unclench in her. "I don't mind quiet either," she said softly.

For a while they listened to it—the shared, candle-warm quiet, padded with blanket rustles and the storm's padded roar. The room lost another thin slice of heat.

Ren shivered before she could hide it; Atsushi sighed, slid an arm behind her and tugged her closer until their shoulders touched, then their sides, the contact simple and sure. Her body yielded without asking her permission. His hoodie was warm. So was he.

"Better," he said.

"... Yes," she whispered, surprised by how true it was.

He glanced down at her—hair falling forward, eyes shiny from fever, trying very hard to pretend she wasn't melting—and the mischief returned like a slow tide. "If you had to pick between me and Himuro for a date," he said blandly, "who would you choose?"

Her brain stalled. "That's not—why— I—"

"So me," he concluded, pleased.

Ren buried her face in the blanket. "You're impossible."

He looked smug for exactly one second, then noticed the tremor in her hands as she tucked the edge higher. The smugness faded.

Without commentary, he adjusted the blankets, tucking the corner at her hip the way she would for an injured player, then reached up and touched the back of his fingers to her forehead.

She froze. His skin was cool. The contact lasted only a breath.

"Warm," he said quietly. Not a tease.

"I'm fine," she lied, voice small.

"Liar." His hand slipped away, but not far; he brushed a stray strand of hair that had clung to her cheek. It snagged on his knuckle; he eased it back behind her ear, fingertips barely grazing skin. "Keep playing?"

Ren nodded.

"Okay. Do you want me to sleep on the floor or here?"

Ren's pulse tripped. "T-that's not—"

"It's a question." He was mercilessly patient.

She stared at the blanket. "Here," she whispered, before she could lose her courage to the cold.

"Okay." No teasing, no triumph. Just acceptance, simple as gravity.

********

Ren's laughter had softened into a faint hum as their little game of questions stretched on. The storm still pressed against the windows, the only light the warm flicker of the candles Atsushi had scattered on the table.

At first, her answers came quick—snappy when his teasing continued to get too close. But little by little, her responses slowed. She paused longer, sometimes blinking like she'd forgotten the question, other times rubbing at her eyes and stifling a yawn.

"You're blinking slow," Atsushi murmured, leaning his head back against the couch. "Like... really slow. You'll fall asleep before I even get my turn."

Ren shot him a weak glare, trying to fight off the tug at her eyelids. "I'm fine. I'm—" she yawned, muffling it with her sleeve, "—answering. See?"

"Barely," he said flatly, though the corner of his mouth tugged upward.

She tried to think of another question, something silly to throw him off, but the thought slipped right out of her head halfway through. That flustered her more than anything. "Ugh, never mind. Your turn."

Atsushi tilted his head, watching her through heavy-lidded eyes. "Do you always push yourself until you look like that?"

Ren blinked at him. "Like what?"

"Like you're gonna fold over any second." He said it casually, but his tone was quieter, almost like he didn't mean for it to come out.

Her cheeks warmed, and she fumbled for a reply, but the weight in her body was harder to ignore now. She unconsciously shifted closer into him, pulling her blanket tighter.

A silence stretched, comfortable and heavy. Her breathing slowed without her realizing, and when she spoke again, her voice was a little softer. "...You don't have to stay, you know. The storm will probably calm down by morning. You'll be fine if you leave now."

"I don't care," Atsushi said simply.

Ren's chest squeezed at that. Her head grew heavy in that way sickness demands, thoughts going soft at the edges. She breathed in the cotton of his hoodie, the clean hint of snow still clinging to him, and asked, fuzzily, "Would you... will you stay if I ask you to?"

"I already said I'm not leaving," he murmured. "Jeez, you never listen."

She smiled, small and helpless. Something tight inside her, wound up since Tokyo, slackened a fraction. Sleep tugged hard and his steady tone tore down her guard, pulling hard enough that the words slipped out before she could stop them. "...I just don't like being alone."

Her voice was drowsy, almost slurred with sleep, but the honesty in it startled her even as her eyes fluttered shut.

Atsushi shifted beside her, slow and careful. He didn't tease. Instead, she felt the gentlest brush of his hand against her face, fingertips just barely grazing her cheekbone. His hand lingered for a moment, warm against her skin, before falling away.

"Then you won't be," he said.

That was the last thing she heard clearly. Ren's grip on his hoodie loosened as sleep took her; her head slid from his shoulder to his chest, settling over the steady thud of his heart.

He adjusted the blanket one more time, tucking it around her like a promise, and pulled her small body closer into him.

Ren's breathing evened out against his chest, her lashes brushing her flushed cheeks as she finally gave in to sleep. For a long moment, Atsushi just stared down at her, his usual half-lidded eyes a little more awake.

Her hair had fallen forward again, and without thinking, he reached out to brush a strand back behind her ear, his fingertips grazing the warmth of her skin.

"...you're so stubborn, Ren-chin," he muttered softly, though his voice was quieter than usual—almost careful. His gaze lingered on her face, watching the faint crease of worry still clinging to her expression even in rest.

After a pause, he added under his breath, "... just rest, I got you."

He shifted just enough to tug the blanket higher around her shoulders. Then he let his head rest back against the couch, his large frame keeping her tucked securely against him as the storm rattled outside.

Chapter Text

Some time after the candles burned lower and the wind found a deeper pitch along the balcony rail, Ren stirred.

Her dreams had been all blankets and warm cotton and a heartbeat, and when she blinked gummy eyes open, she realized why: her pillow was Atsushi.

Not his chest anymore—his lap.

Her cheek was pressed to the soft give of his sweatpants, one hand curled in the hem of his hoodie like a child guarding a blanket. The couch groaned when she shifted.

Atsushi's hand—heavy, warm—rested, almost absentminded, along her upper arm as if keeping her from sliding. He wasn't fully awake; the slack of his mouth and the slow, even drag of his breathing said as much.

But when she breathed a little wrong, he cracked an eye.

"You moved," he murmured, voice rough with sleep.

Ren's reply was only a thick, sleepy grunt of a noise.

The room swayed gently in that feverish way; the storm's low hiss filled the spaces where thoughts should be.

She closed her eyes, swallowed, and let her forehead settle back against him. The blanket had slipped. He tugged it higher without being asked.

"Warm?" he asked, already drifting.

"Mhm." It came out a small sound, more breath than word.

"Good." His hand patted once, clumsy and careful, then stilled again.

She dozed like that in stops and starts—half-waking when a gust rattled the glass, slipping under again when the weight of his palm reminded her not to float away.

Eventually, pins-and-needles crept up Atsushi's thigh; his leg twitched in protest under her head. He sucked in a breath, blinked, and this time didn't fall back under.

The candles were stubbier, their light lower and more honeyed. The apartment's edges had gone cool—not sharp yet, but noticeable.

He looked down at Ren. Fever flushed the bridge of her nose; damp wisps of hair stuck to her temple. Her brow had lost the crease it wore awake and with her face softened in sleep; she looked so—he didn't have a better word—small.

"Couch is a pain," he muttered to himself.

Moving was careful work.

He slid his hand from her arm to the back of her head, cupping so her weight wouldn't jerk. With the other, he eased her cheek off his thigh. She made a faint sound, not quite a protest. "Shh," he said, quiet as the candle flames.

Sliding his right hand beneath the bend of her knees, testing the weight there first, then easing his left arm along her back until his palm found the steady curve between her shoulder blades. His thumb spread instinctively to cradle the base of her skull so it wouldn't tip.

"Okay," he breathed, more to his muscles than to her. The couch dipped as he shifted his center, then he drew her toward him in one slow, sure arc—scooping up her body, it folded against his chest as if it knew the shape already.

Her messy teal hair brushed his chin. Half-asleep, she fumbled for him and tried to catch the fabric at his collar, fingers weak but insistent.

He stood, and the air bit his ankles where his sweats had ridden up. Ren's weight settled against his chest like a heated pack—surprisingly light, except where every muscle in his forearms had to work not to jostle her.

"Atsu...shi?" she slurred, sleep blurring his name into something softer, her eyes slitting blue in the candleglow.

"Mm. Go back to sleep." He kept his voice low, even. "Your couch sucks."

A ghost of a laugh caught in her throat. Her fingers found his hoodie without looking and hooked there. He carried her down the short hall towards her bedroom, the storm punctuating each step with a soft rasp along the window.

Her room still smelled faintly of the earlier candle and the sweater they'd fought with earlier.

He bent and set her down in careful pieces, not a drop—shoulders first to the pillow, then knees to mattress, then his palm at her nape to guide the last of her weight.

Atsushi tugged the top blanket over her small frame, tucking one corner under her hip and another beneath her shoulder. She sank with eased comfort, only the faintest shiver telling him he hadn't overdone it.

He straightened, rolling his sore shoulder, and turned to go.

"Don't," she said, barely above a breath.

He paused. Looked over his shoulder. The candlelight made a thin halo on the dresser and left most of her face in shadow, but he could see the glassy fever sheen to her eyes and the way her mouth had to work a little to form the next word.

"... Please."

Atsushi froze mid-step.

For a beat, nothing moved except the flame and the small, quick jump in his own chest he wasn't prepared for. Heat crept up the edges of his ears—annoying, obvious.

He tried to cover and made a face like this was about comfort, not anything else. "I'll stay," he muttered, holding up the extra pillow he took from Ren's bed. "On the floor."

Ren's brow knit, slow and puzzled, as if the word didn't make sense in her fog. She lifted a hand from under the blanket and patted the empty space beside her—sloppy, trusting. "No. Here."

He stopped breathing for exactly one second, face burning hot. "What."

"With me," she mumbled, already drooping again. "It's warmer. 'M cold."

"The bed's small," he said, attempting to grasp at logic. His heart did that annoying fast thud he only ever felt while playing. "You won't have space. You'll... complain. I take blankets."

"Don't care." Her fingers found his sleeve and tugged—a weak little hook. "It...'s you," she added, like that settled it.

The tug on his heart landed harder than it should have. He stared at her hand on his hoodie, felt the rush of heat climb another notch, and scowled at the air to scare it away. "Tch. You're so stubborn, Ren-chin."

She smiled—sleepy, unguarded. "Mm."

He lost. "Fine. But if you elbow me, I'm leaving," he lied.

Ren's answering smile was loose and sleepy and not even a little embarrassed. "'Kay."

He dropped the pillow, disappeared long enough to rattle around her kitchen, then came back with a steaming mug and the last clean hand towel he could find.

"What—?" she started.

"Hot water," he said. "Don't cough yourself inside-out." He set it down and wrung the towel in his fist, then laid it across her forehead like he'd seen trainers do a hundred times. It was a sloppy rectangle, crooked over her brows. He fixed it without comment.

Ren watched him through half-lidded eyes, something warm unfolding under the fever warmth. "You're... good at this," she mumbled.

"I'm good at sleeping," he corrected, kicking off his socks. "This is just to make that easier for me."

He slid under the blanket. The bed wasn't small, but it wasn't made for him either; his shoulders took up wrong angles. He solved it by turning on his side and letting Ren's back fill the curve of him.

The heat of her was immediate, the tremor of her chills small and insistent. It sent a heat wave of his own throughout his entire body, settling in the pit of his core.

Thankfully Ren facing the other way and being half sickly asleep, prevented her from seeing his natural reaction to the closeness of her body against his.

Without thinking, he fit his palm on the blanket over her hip, then smoothed it to her stomach so the edge wouldn't gape and less warmth could escape.

"You're freezing, Ren-chin," he said into her hair. He let out a breath to settle his heart beat before saying:

"Don't be dumb. Come here, use me."

She made a sound that might have been agreement, might have been relief. Her body let go by degrees—shoulders unhooking from her ears, jaw unclenching, breath evening.

He reached past her to nudge the mug into her hands. "Sip."

She obeyed, eyes closed, the steam fogging her lashes. When she gave it back, her fingers brushed his; his pulse jumped again in a way he hated noticing.

"Floor, huh?" she mumbled, dazed amusement warming the edges of the word.

"I was being polite," he said, which made no sense even to him.

She rolled, slow as a sleep-heavy tide, until her forehead found the soft spot under his collarbone. The damp towel slid askew from her brow; he put it back.

She tucked herself tighter into the hollow of him like it had been made for this. Made for her— like she was the final piece to his puzzle.

He could feel her smile against his hoodie.

"You still here?" she whispered into his hoodie.

"Obviously."

Silence padded in. The storm hummed along the glass; a candle sighed out in the other room and left its companion to shoulder the work.

Ren's blinking grew long and lazy, her answers slower, her body heavier in his arms. Every time she shivered, his hand moved—blanket, shoulder, hair—without bothering to tell his brain first.

When she spoke, the words were slurred with sleep and honest in a way that only happened when sickness pressed your walls thin. "Good. 'Cause... 's warmer with you."

His hand stalled where it had been drawing absent lines over her shoulder. The heat at his ears sparked again; his heart tripped in a way he had never experienced before.

He swallowed, tried for flat, landed a shade softer. "Yeah? ...Don't get used to it."

"Too late," she slurred, pleased.

He could have told her she was stubborn again. He didn't. Instead he let his thumb find a loose strand of her hair and brushed it back behind her ear, careful as though noise could break the moment. The gesture was getting too easy.

She breathed out a tiny, relieved sound at that, and whatever was left of her awake slipped away. Her grip on his hoodie loosened; her breaths soft with rest.

He told himself the bed really was better than the couch, that he'd said yes because it was practical, because she'd asked, because she was sick and annoying and would just tug at his sleeve all night if he tried to leave.

Atsushi stayed awake longer than he meant to.

He stared at the ceiling, then at the curve of her cheek in the candleglow. He listened to the winter storm rasp along the glass and to the steady proof, pressed to his ribs, that she was there. He looked down, at the crease finally smoothed from Ren's brow and the line of her mouth gone soft with sleep.

His heart did something he didn't have a good word for.

Practical things ran through his head—storm, power, practice tomorrow, the way the bed was objectively better than her couch—and none of them explained why his chest felt too full and too tight at the same time.

"You're so stubborn, Ren-chin," he whispered, the words almost lost in the wind. Something truer slipped in behind them before he could stop it. "...You have no idea what you're doing to me."

He pulled the blanket up one last inch and settled, big frame curved around her smaller one, an anchor against the cold.

Outside, snow kept trying to bury the city. Inside, two breaths found the same rhythm, and the night—at last—let them rest.

Chapter Text

Ren stirred slowly and blinked herself awake slowly, the remnants of fever fogging her head. Her head throbbed faintly, her throat scratchy, and her limbs heavy with leftover fever.

The warmth pressing in on all sides of her made it difficult to tell where the blankets ended and began. Her cheek was pressed against something solid. Warm. Steady.

For a blissful few seconds, she thought she was just tangled in all the cozy sheets of fabric—until the warmth beneath her shifted.

Her breath hitched.

The arm draped across her waist wasn't a blanket. The steady rise and fall under her cheek wasn't a pillow.

Memory slammed into her in pieces—the storm cutting the power, Atsushi helping her stumble through changing, how she had gotten cold, how he'd tugged her close, the soft weight of his hand brushing her hair behind her ear.

And her own voice, drowsy and fragile, asking him not to leave her alone.

Her face went hot. Oh my god. I said that? He heard me say that?

Ren stiffened, realizing just how tightly they'd curled against each other. One of his long arms draped loosely around her waist, heavy like an anchor. Their legs had shifted in the night, tangled beneath the blankets.

Ren's face burned hot enough that it almost masked the chill of her fever. I... I fell asleep like this?!

She froze, then carefully, very carefully, tried to slip out from under his arm. But even asleep, Atsushi's hold instinctively tightened, pulling her closer against his chest like she was just another oversized pillow he refused to give up.

Ren bit her lip, heat and mortification bubbling in her chest. His breath brushed the crown of her head, his heartbeat steady under her ear. She didn't dare move again.

Ren buried her face against his shirt for a moment, embarrassed despite Atsushi being asleep still.

It wasn't until he stirred, a long sigh leaving him, that she risked shifting. She sat up slowly, head spinning, and realized with relief that the power was back—her heater hummed softly, and pale daylight filtered weakly through her curtains.

Outside, snow still piled along the streets, glittering white beneath the morning sun.

On the nightstand, her phone buzzed weakly with notifications. She checked it, blinking at the group chat messages from Yosen.

Practice canceled. Too much snow on the roads. Stay safe.

She sighed in relief and set the phone aside. Her stomach grumbled faintly.

"Mmnn..." came a lazy voice, "...You're noisy in the morning."

Ren whipped around.

Atsushi had cracked one eye open, his hair sticking up in every direction, looking somehow both groggy—and hot.

His eyes were half-opened, still heavy with sleep. The deep scratch of the sound of his low tired voice and throaty moans and groans.

Without a word, he stretched, arms reaching above his head. His shirt lifted with the movement, revealing a sliver of toned stomach, pale skin cut with lean lines of muscle. It was an effortless movement from him, but the sight of the waistband of his boxers peeking out from his sweatpants was... rapturous.

Ren's entire brain short-circuited.

She whipped her gaze away so fast she almost gave herself whiplash. The involuntary throb that pulsed within her body felt so overwhelming, she couldn't take it.

Nope. Nope. Absolutely not. Why does he even look like that? He eats candy for breakfast!

Ren gawked at him, her face burning so red it could've melted the snow outside. "Y-you—don't—! Just—!"

He blinked at her blearily, like he had no idea why she looked like she was about to combust, then muttered, "Still look gross, Ren-chin. Nose is all red."

"I—what—" Her cheeks went crimson again. "You—"

Ren glared weakly, but her voice lacked bite. "Don't call people gross first thing in the morning!"

He ignored that, rubbing his eyes. "Got a message. Practice's canceled."

"...I saw." She tucked her knees up, trying to focus on anything but the fact she'd woken up in his large arms. And that she'd slept that close to him all night.

"Good. Means I don't gotta walk through snow for nothing." He flopped back on the bed for another moment before lazily adding, "...You got food?"

*********

Despite still feeling run-down, Ren insisted on making something. It was the least she could do after all he did to help her last night.

She shuffled into the kitchen, bundled in a blanket draped over her shoulders, while Atsushi lumbered in behind her. His hair was still a mess and his voice was still laced with a low rasp. The sound and sight of him was physically undoing her, so she was trying her best to keep him out of her eyesight.

"I'll do it," he said, reaching for the eggs she had pulled from her fridge.

"You'll eat them raw before they touch a pan," she shot back, trying to sound stern but breaking into a laugh when he cracked an egg too hard and half the shell fell in the bowl.

"Oops," he muttered, fishing it out with chopsticks. "Still edible."

Together, they pieced together something simple—miso soup, rice, a clumsy omelet. Atsushi sat at the table chewing happily while Ren coughed lightly into her sleeve, still flushed from fever... and him.

He slurped loudly, then glanced at her. "So. You gonna do the Seirin thing?"

Ren froze mid-bite. She set her chopsticks down, staring into her bowl. "You're bringing that up?"

"Mm." He leaned forward lazily on his elbows. "You looked happy talking about it. Sparkly."

Ren's throat tightened. "...Sparkly?"

"Yeah. Like... brighter. You don't look like that when you're taping someone's shoulder or scolding the team." He shrugged like it was obvious.

Her heart thumped hard in her chest.

"I... don't know yet," she admitted softly. "I feel... guilty. Thinking about Seirin when I'm supposed to be committed here. With Yosen. With you guys."

Atsushi was quiet for a beat, chewing thoughtfully. Then, in his plain, blunt way:
"You'd be dumb not to do what makes you happy. Even if it's not with... us."

Ren's breath caught.

He didn't look at her as he said it, just kept eating, but the weight of his words landed deep.

They finished breakfast quietly. It was nice, comfortable. Ren felt the warmth of the food and the heater battling the last of her chills.

Her phone buzzed again—this time, not from Yosen, but from Riko:

Let's meet again soon! I'll show you more about what we're planning. :)

Ren set it face-down, torn all over again.

She glanced at Atsushi, still sitting there with his messy hair and sleepy eyes. His face was so pretty, she couldn't help but be mesmerized by him.

Thankfully, he was too preoccupied in eating and hadn't noticed Ren taking in every small detail of him, solidifying it into her memory. The gratitude she felt towards him and everything he had done for her was indescribable.

Ren glanced back at her phone and wondered how she could possibly make a choice when her heart already felt pulled in two directions— especially towards him.

Chapter Text

A week had slipped by since the storm. The snow outside was no longer piled against doorframes, just gray slush clinging stubbornly to the streets, melting under the late-winter sun.

Life in Akita was stirring again—the buses ran on time, Yosen's practices were back in full swing, and Ren found herself caught in a strange rhythm of routine.

She was better now, not fully recovered but not sick the way she'd been, just that faint heaviness lingering in her chest. What she couldn't shake was the new pulse in her days—something subtle but constant.

Atsushi.

Since the storm, things felt...different.

He still teased her, still dragged his feet at practice, still ate twice as much as anyone else. But he also showed up randomly at her door with snacks, walked her home when the snow was too thick, and sat beside her during breaks like it was the most natural thing in the world.

Ren didn't know what to call it, but she couldn't ignore it either.

Her phone buzzed. Riko's name lit the screen.

The text read:

We're arranging a scrimmage with a provisional girls' lineup! Don't worry, it's low stakes. Just to see how we move together. Want to come play??

Ren's throat went dry. Her fingers hovered over the screen.

She hadn't touched a ball in months—not seriously. Her knee still ached on bad days, still reminded her what she'd lost.

But the idea of lacing up again, of hearing sneakers squeak against wood and feeling that rush—her heart thumped so hard she had to sit down.

She didn't reply. Not yet.

********

It had been a few days since Riko's text about the scrimmage.

Ren still hadn't answered.

Her heart had leapt at the idea—her fingers itched to hold a ball again—but the old voice in her head reminded her of every brace, every physical therapy session, every moment where her body had betrayed her.

In the end, she had called her dad. She hadn't planned to; she'd just been pacing her apartment, staring at Riko's message, when she found herself scrolling to his number. He had a way of always saying the right thing when she needed it.

He had listened quietly, letting her spill her tangled thoughts of excitement and hesitation, the way only he ever did.

Then, in his steady way, he said, "If you're even considering it, Ren, don't guess. Get checked. Talk to someone who knows your history. Don't carry this decision alone."

And of course he had a name ready—the same sports medic he'd worked with for years, the same one who had treated Ren when she was still chasing down every rebound like it was her last. Hatsuki Ota.

So, a couple of days later, she found herself walking into that familiar clinic, her stomach twisted, caught between nostalgia and nerves.

The office didn't feel like a stranger's clinic.

The faint scent of tape, ointment, and sweat clung to the air, the shelves lined with braces, foam rollers, and half-empty bottles of electrolyte tablets. This was a place she'd been countless times before—back when basketball was the only thing that mattered.

"Ren-chan," the Hatsuki greeted warmly as he walked in. He was in his late forties now, his hair more silver than she remembered, but his smile was the same.

He had been her dad's colleague and friend for years—part of the network of specialists who'd patched up athletes before they were sent back onto the  He was practically her uncle. "It's been a while kid."

"Yeah," she said quietly, shrugging out of her jacket. She suddenly felt small again, like the teenager who used to sit on this very table while her dad hovered at her side.

He gestured for her to sit. "Your dad said you've been thinking about playing again?"

Ren winced. Of course her dad had mentioned it—of course he had.

She settled onto the table, her knee bouncing nervously. "Something like that I guess."

Hatsuki's hands were gentle but precise as he began his examination— she was familiar with his clinical expertise, pressing along the line of her joint, testing flexion, guiding her through stretches.

It wasn't uncomfortable—at least, not physically. The discomfort was in his silence, the weight of his incoming assessment as he evaluated her.

"You've put in the work," he said at last. "I can feel it in your tendons and mobility. Strength's returned. Stability's better than I expected."

Ren's chest fluttered. "...So I can play?"

Hatsuki paused. His gaze softened, the kind of look only someone who had known her since childhood could give. "You can. But... should you? That's harder."

Her throat tightened.

He leaned against the counter, arms crossed. "I've seen your father tape athletes minutes before sending them back into games they shouldn't have played despite his warnings. I've seen knees like yours hold for years, and others collapse after one bad fall. You're not fragile, Ren—but you're not invincible, either."

Her hands curled in her lap. "So what does that mean?"

"It means it's your choice," he said simply. "If you want to play, I'll help you. I'll design a program, I'll monitor you, I'll keep you upright as long as I can. But if you don't want to risk it...no one would blame you for protecting your future."

The words dug deep. Because they weren't clinical—they were personal.

He knew how much she had loved the game, how much she'd lost when she couldn't play. He'd seen the fire in her as a kid, and the way it dimmed after the injury.

Ren blinked hard, her vision swimming. She had come hoping for certainty, some sort of clarity to make it all suddenly easy. But instead, she was left with the one thing she still wasn't ready for: a choice.

Another choice.

Sighing as she stood to leave, Hatsuki's voice followed her. "Ren. Whatever you decide, it doesn't define you. Don't forget that... and don't bear it all alone."

Her chest squeezed. She nodded, unable to find words— Hatsuki really did know her like she was his actual family. She was grateful for his help and support.

Out in the cold air again, the ache in her knee was nothing compared to the ache in her chest. Ren found herself almost wishing that he would have just told her no.

That way, the choice wouldn't have to be hers.

*********

Ren sat cross-legged on the floor at her coffee table, papers and her notebook spread out in messy piles. Her pencil tapped restlessly against the page, her handwriting growing uneven the longer she stared at the same sentence.

On the couch behind her, Atsushi slouched sideways with his legs dangling off the edge, absentmindedly munching on a pack of snacks.

He had walked her home after practice, following her all the way through the door of her apartment. She didn't even bother questioning him at this point, she had grown used to his consistent presence.

Atsushi wasn't saying anything—just watching her, like he often did when she was wound up. The feeling of his lingering gaze upon her still made heat pool within her.

Ren let out a sharp sigh and dragged her hands through her hair, tugging it back in frustration. A few strands fell loose, slipping forward again, brushing against her cheek.

That was when she felt it—long fingers brushing the back of her head, gently tugging her hair back out of her face.

She froze. "Atsushi?"

"Mm." He didn't sound the least bit fazed. His hand lingered, combing through her hair like it was the most natural thing in the world. "You look stressed. And your hair keeps getting in your face."

Ren's cheeks heated, and she tried to duck away, but his hand followed, lazily gathering another strand, smoothing it between his fingers. Her heartbeat spiked at the casual intimacy of it, but she said nothing, too startled to stop him.

"You think too much," he murmured, half-teasing but softer than usual. His fingers wove another section of her hair, slowly, like he wasn't even aware of how careful he was being.

Ren swallowed. "...I can't help it. There's just... so much to figure out."

The words tumbled out before she could stop herself.

About Seirin. About her knee. About wanting to play but being terrified of the choice in front of her. She didn't even know why she was telling him, but the rhythmic pull of her hair under his hands made her feel grounded, like each braid tug was unknotting something inside her chest.

Atsushi didn't interrupt. He just kept weaving, silent but present. Patient. Listening.

When she faltered, his thumb brushed lightly across the nape of her neck, steadying her while also sending jolts down her spine.

By the time he tied the braid off with the hairband he'd slipped from her wrist, Ren's shoulders had loosened, her voice quieter.

"There," he said simply, sitting back. "Better."

Ren reached up, touching the braid trailing over her shoulder. Her face was warm, her heart a confused mess of comfort and fluster.

"Thanks..." she murmured, unable to meet his eyes.

He gave a little hum, leaning back against the couch, already reaching for another snack. "Anytime, Ren-chin."

The room felt softer, quieter after that.

She caught herself smiling faintly at her braid, her stress not gone, but dulled by the weight of his steady hands still lingering in her memory.

Chapter Text

The echoes of bouncing balls and sneakers squeaking against polished wood faded one by one until the gym fell into silence.

Yosen's players filed out in pairs and clusters, laughing at each other's jokes, tugging at their warm-up jackets, their voices disappearing into the cold evening air outside.

Ren lingered near the equipment rack, tucking her hands into her sleeves as if she were simply being helpful.

In truth, her eyes had been on the door, waiting for the last of them to leave.

Even Atsushi had already drifted out, scarf slung around his neck as he lazily followed the others. He'd glanced back once, as though expecting her to follow, but she'd waved him off with a breezy excuse about locking up.

Though he had lingered at the door as if suspicious of her excuse, but she was determined.

Ren's pulse quickened—not from the drills she had run earlier with Yosen's team, but from the thrill of being alone.

Her fingers brushed over the basketballs in the rack before she pulled one free. The rubber texture pressed against her palms like an old memory—comforting, but heavy with expectation.

She rolled it against her palm, heart thrumming. It felt heavier than she remembered, yet achingly familiar.

Now, the gym belonged to her.

She started slow.

One bounce, then another, each echo cracking in the still air. Her legs remembered more than her mind did—crossovers, pivots, the way her body wanted to glide into motion.

She took a shot from the free throw line. It clanged against the rim, rolled off. She winced, chased it down, tried again.

Her second shot swished through, and something inside her sparked.

She dribbled faster, drove toward the basket, released. Another miss. Another try.

Her breathing grew ragged, but she pushed harder, as though she could make up for lost years in a single night.

Each shot, each pivot—like chasing ghosts of who she used to be.

Her lungs tightened, but it wasn't exhaustion. It was exhilaration. For a flicker of a moment, it felt like she hadn't lost anything at all.

Sweat pricked her brow. She faked a cut, launched into a layup and then—

Sudden pain stabbed through her knee.

The twinge hit sharp as a needle. Ren stumbled, her balance gave way.

She regained her footing with a sharp grunt. The ache radiated, hot and pulsing. She hissed and bit her lip, forcing the sting back down, both palms gripping her knee.

"...Ren-chin."

Her head jerked up, snapping toward the voice.

Atsushi's voice carried through the emptiness, low and flat, but the worry laced underneath made her heart clench.

He stood near the doors, scarf half-off his shoulder. His violet eyes narrowed in that sleepy-yet-serious way that made her stomach twist.

"I knew it," he said flatly. "You stayed behind."

"I was just—" She tried to straighten, but the tremor in her knee betrayed her.

"Dummy," he muttered, already striding across the court. His long legs ate up the distance in seconds.

She flinched when his hand steadied her elbow. His other hand pressed gently over her knee. His touch warm through the fabric of her leggings, careful despite his size.

Her face burned instantly. "Atsushi, you don't have to—"

"You can't even stand right," he cut in, tone sharp. But his touch was careful, almost reverent. "Don't lie."

Ren swallowed, pulse racing faster than her stumble warranted.

The gym was quiet enough that she could hear the hum of the lights, the sound of her own breath, and his hand shifting against her knee.

Too close. Too real.

"I just... wanted to see if I still could," she whispered, words trembling into the air.

He tested her knee gently, as if searching for weakness.

For a moment, Atsushi didn't reply. He shifted, crouched lower, studying her knee still. Finally, with a quiet sigh, he leaned back.

"If you can't play again... then I'll carry you. If you can... I'll cheer for you."

Her breath caught, face flaming. The words landed simple and heavy, as if he didn't realize what they meant.

Ren blinked at him, startled. "You—what?"

He shrugged, standing and holding out his hand for her to take. "Doesn't matter what happens. I'll still be there either way."

The words, said so simply, made something crack open in her chest.

She hesitated, staring at his large hand in awe of the small intimate gesture. Then slipped her hand into his, letting him pull her up.

His grip was solid and grounding, helping her upright with nonchalant ease. The warmth lingered long after.

***********

After grabbing some snacks from the school's vending machine, they sank onto the polished floor together, sitting in the middle of the court.

Ren rubbed at her knee, embarrassment gnawing at her. It still throbbed, but Atsushi's presence beside her grounded her more than she wanted to admit.

Atsushi leaned his head back, eyes half-closed, looking like he could fall asleep right there.

Ren slumped back against the gym floor, groaning. "Well, that was pathetic of me. I probably looked like an old granny or something trying to play again."

Atsushi, sprawled out beside her, blinked lazily.

"Nah. More like a baby deer. All wobbly and about to fall over."

Ren shot him a look.

"Excuse me? At least I was moving. You'd just stand in one spot and wait for the ball to come to you."

Before he could reply, she deepened her voice into a slow, drowsy drawl, perfectly imitating his tone and mockingly muttered, "Mmm... running's too much of a pain. Just gimme snacks and I'll do things when I feel like it."

There was a beat of silence. Then a quiet huff escaped him — low, genuine. His shoulders shifted as he chuckled under his breath, trying not to smile too wide but failing.

"Tch... that's not how I sound."

Ren deviously grinned, "Oh, that's exactly how you sound."

He gave her a sideways glance, and she caught it — that rare spark of amusement in his eyes. And when he actually chuckled—deep, low, rumbling in his chest—Ren froze.

It wasn't fair.

His laugh wasn't supposed to make her chest feel this warm, or her face this hot.

She ducked her head, pressing her palms over her cheeks. "Don't do that."

"Do what?" His voice was lazy but curious.

"Laugh like that," she muttered, barely above a whisper.

"Hm." He shifted, the corner of his mouth twitching upward into a cocky smirk. "Then maybe I'll do it more."

Her heart nearly gave out at the sound of his words. The building heat in her abdomen became unbearable at the sight of him and his cocky grin.

His taunting gaze felt like it was piercing right through her— she wanted to get lost in the violet hue.

But feeling her blush only increase in redness, she squeezed her eyes shut and looked quickly away before Atsushi noticed and teased her.

Suddenly she was very aware of how close they were, sitting side by side on the floor of an empty gym, his low chuckle still echoing in her ears. And for some reason, her heart wouldn't settle down.

The two of them sat there longer than either admitted they wanted, trading jabs and quiet words until the cold outside started seeping through the gym's walls.

When he finally offered to walk her home, she didn't argue.

Outside, the snow crunched beneath their shoes, the world quiet except for their breaths misting in the frosty air.

Ren glanced back at the dark gym once, torn between fear of breaking and the flickering thrill of possibility.

But with Atsushi's tall frame beside her, the weight didn't feel quite so crushing.

Chapter Text

The snow still clung stubbornly to the edges of sidewalks, but it was thinning, breaking apart under the gentle warmth of the late-afternoon sun.

Spring was trying to breathe its way into Yosen's town—slowly, cautiously—but Ren could feel it. The air wasn't as sharp in her lungs. There were little trickles of water where ice had melted, and the days stretched just a touch longer.

Still, her chest was tight with unease.

Her knee throbbed faintly, enough to remind her of the words Hatsuki had left her with:

You'll have to balance carefully, Ren. But it's your choice to make, don't bear it all alone.

His voice had lived in her head since the appointment.

Every step toward the gym felt heavier. Every time she thought of Seirin's scrimmage, her heart stumbled over excitement and fear.

Ren pulled her bag higher on her shoulder as she neared the gym, thoughts weighing her down heavier than the equipment inside.

She was so lost in thought that she nearly yelped when her hood was yanked from behind by a large hand.

"Eh—Atsushi?!"

Murasakibara loomed there, expression as flat as ever, his purple hair messier than usual.

"You're not going to practice today, Ren-chin."

Ren frowned immediately. "What are you talking about? Of course I am."

"Nope." His hand tugged her hood again, already steering her away from the gym doors like she weighed nothing. "You're coming with me."

"What—no!" She stumbled after him, caught in his long stride. "I—you can't just—Atsushi! I can't skip practice!"

"You can. You are." His tone was maddeningly calm. "Let's go."

Ren staggered after him, torn between shoving his hand off and being dragged like a stubborn child. "You— you can't just decide that for me!"

"Too late. Already did."

Ren's mouth opened and closed. She wanted to argue, to scold, to demand he stop pulling her like some giant kidnapper, but his grip was unshakable.

She glanced back at the gym doors getting farther away and groaned. "You're impossible!"

"Yup," he replied without a shred of shame.

******

Now away from Yosen's gym, Atsushi steered them into town.

By the time Ren had caught her breath, a steaming cup of hot cocoa was pressed into her hands from the convenience store.

She blinked down at it, flustered.

"I didn't ask for this," she muttered, but her fingers curled around the warmth anyway, unwilling to admit it felt good against her chilled fingers.

"You needed it." Atsushi sipped his own drink with a lazy slurp. "And you needed to chill out."

Ren bristled, cheeks warming. "I wasn't stressed!"

"You were." His gaze slid to her, half-lidded but knowing. "You always are."

He took another snip, voice muffled by the cup, "Too much work is bad for you anyway. You don't always have to be such a good girl."

Ren's eyes went wide, her face burning like fire at his comment. She snapped her gaze away from him, burying her crimson cheeks into her hoodie.

Her mouth snapped shut, whimpering in embarrassment.

She guessed she was in denial, and she couldn't help but feel disappointed in herself that it took Atsushi calling it out for her to admit it.

She wanted to argue, but the truth sat too heavily in her chest.

So instead, she sipped her cocoa and mumbled, "You're ridiculous."

Atsushi just hummed, eyes focused on his cocoa.

She glared at him, but the corner of his mouth twitched into a faint smirk like he knew he'd won.

Ren finally sighed, letting the tension bleed out of her shoulders.

*******

Later, they wandered through a small park, snow still clinging to the grass in patches. The bare trees creaked in the breeze, their branches rattling like brittle bones.

The cocoa was gone, the cups crumpled and tossed in a nearby bin.

Ren sat on the bench, hugging her knees lightly against her chest, the cool air brushing against her cheeks.

Atsushi was sprawled beside her, his long legs stretched out, one arm hanging lazily over the back of the bench. His posture screamed disinterest, but his eyes kept flicking her way, catching every twitch of her expression.

Ren fiddled with her sleeves. "You know, I don't get why you went through all that trouble dragging me here."

Atsushi shrugged. "You're stressing too much, Ren-chin. You needed a break."

Her cheeks warmed. "I wasn't stressing that much."

"You were," he countered simply, eyes narrowing like he was reading her mind. "Your face gets all red when you're overthinking."

Ren whipped her head toward him. "It does not!"

"It does," he repeated, and to her horror, his lips twitched—just barely—but it was there, a smirk.

She turned away, ears burning. "...Maybe it does."

A pause. 

Then Atsushi leaned forward slightly, his hair brushing his cheek as he tilted his head.

"You're red right now."

Ren's eyes widened.

"I—!" She pressed her hands to her face. "That's not fair! I'm just... cold!"

"It's not that cold anymore." His voice was flat, but the faint amusement in his tone made her pulse stutter.

Ren groaned, hiding behind her hands. "...I don't even know why I get like this."

"Like what?" His question came quietly and nonchalant, but it landed heavy between them.

Ren peeked at him through her fingers.

His violet eyes were fixed on her, steady, unblinking. The weight of his attention made her throat dry.

"...All... flustered. Weird... I don't know. Whenever I'm around you, it's like my brain doesn't work right... or something." She immediately winced. "Wait—I didn't mean—ugh, just forget I said that."

She squeezed her eyes shut, shoving her face back into her hands.

If people could die from embarrassment, she'd be keeled over this park bench right now. Especially when she heard no type of response from Atsushi.

There was just silence. The kind that prickled against her skin, heavy with her regret.

When she finally dared to look, Atsushi wasn't laughing at her. He wasn't even smirking.

He was leaning closer, so close she could see the faintest shadow of his lashes and feel the slow rhythm of his breathing.

"...It's because you like me," he said softly, blunt as ever like it was an evident fact.

Ren's heart stopped. She could have even sworn she stopped breathing.

Her whole face went scarlet. "I—wha—! Atsushi!"

He didn't lean back.

If anything, he tilted forward more, so close their foreheads nearly touched.

"You blush. You stare. You fumble your words all the time." His lips curved, lazy but sharp. "It's kinda obvious Ren-chin."

Her pulse thundered in her ears.

She wanted to deny it, to shove him away, to say he was wrong—but the words caught, tangled, useless.

All she could do was sit there, trembling, as the space between them shrank to a breath.

For one charged moment, it felt like the world had gone still. No wind. No creaking branches.

Just them.

Then Atsushi blinked slowly, his expression unreadable, and leaned back against the bench like nothing had happened. "...See? Red again."

Ren nearly exploded.

"You—! You can't just—ugh!" She buried her face in her knees, her whole body on fire as she heard low chuckles of amusement coming from him.

She couldn't physically stand how effortless it was for Atsushi to read her like a god damn book. But deep down, her chest ached with something else.

Because in that heartbeat where he'd leaned in, so close she could smell the cocoa on his breath. She knew if he had kept going—she wouldn't have stopped him.

********

By the time they were heading home and wandering back towards the school, practice had just ended.

The sound of voices spilled onto the chilly street—Himuro, Kenji, Liu, and the rest of the Yosen team.

"Oi, Atsushi!" Himuro called, raising a suspicious eyebrow at the sight of them. "Where have you been Minazuki?"

Ren froze. "Oh no—"

"She was with me," Atsushi answered simply, stuffing his hands in his pockets.

Ren flailed. "D-don't say it like that! They'll get the wrong idea!"

Too late. Himuro's smirk was already sharp. "Oh? With you, huh?"

Ren's entire face went red. She started waving her hands frantically. "N-no! It's not like that!"

Kenji laughed. "Sounds exactly like that."

Even Liu cracked a smile.

Ren covered her face, wishing the ground would swallow her whole.

Atsushi just shrugged, unbothered, yawning like they were all boring him to death.

"Don't tease her too much," Himuro said smoothly, though his grin suggested otherwise. "She'll have plenty to worry about soon with Seirin's scrimmage."

Ren peeked out between her fingers, heart racing. "How'd you know about that?"

"Taiga told me about Seirin assembling a girl's team and that you came to discuss it with their coach." Himuro smiled.

She felt a pang of guilt through her chest.

It wasn't a secret she was intentionally trying to keep, telling the boys just made it seem more real—something she'd actually have to act on.

She opened her mouth to respond but Himuro beat her to it.

"Don't worry Ren," He gave a gentle pat on the top of her head. "We're all here supporting you. And we'll be at the scrimmage too, cheering you on."

She was awestruck at Himuro's kindness, but more so felt a wave of reassurance wash over her.

There were no great enough words to express the gratitude she felt towards this team. Towards Himuro. Towards Atsushi.

So she smiled with the most sincerity she could show and nodded her head in understanding.

And instead of embarrassment tightening her chest or guilt bashing through her head, she realized something.

For the first time all week, the substantial weight of her anxiety felt lighter.

And she was happy.

Chapter Text

March had crept in quietly, softening the edges of winter.

The snow hadn't vanished completely, but it clung only in thin patches along the streets, melting into puddles that glistened under the pale sunlight.

Ren could hear birds again when she left the apartment in the mornings, and the air no longer bit at her lungs when she jogged toward the gym. It smelled faintly of wet earth, like the city itself was trying to shake off winter.

A whole month had slipped by since the winter storm—the storm that left her sick, tangled up in blankets beside Atsushi.

She couldn't think about that night too long without her stomach flipping.

But time hadn't stopped for her.

Every day, she'd been training. Little by little, she tested her body: stretching, running drills, shooting until her arms ached. It all was a blur of sweat, aches, and cautious victories.

Atsushi had been there through all of it, sometimes with Himuro or a couple other Yōsen guys trailing behind.

They hadn't gone easy on her, and she hadn't asked them to. But they were patient when she needed and firm when she needed, they were even protective towards her when she tried to push too hard.

The first few weeks, every step had been hesitant, her knee flaring at the wrong moments, her confidence cracking. But piece by piece, she stitched herself back together.

Her knee was still a stubborn thing, but her balance was better, her strength steadier.

And she had improved. She could feel it—not just physically but mentally as well.

The joint wasn't perfect—she still felt it catch sometimes, still feared the sharp stab that might mean the end—but she had learned how to move with it, how to play with awareness rather than fear.

The scrimmage was in just a few days now.

Ren's nerves were constantly always tangled but more so with something close to joy. The thought of playing again—even just in a scrimmage—lit a fire under her ribs.

Still, the shadow of her injuries, and the weight of the doctor's warnings, never fully left her.

Riko had sent another text this morning, buzzing with excitement about the game.

She and some of the second and third years from Seirin had been sending several messages throughout Ren's month of training about it.

Meaningless to say that it was definitely solidified into her reality now—no more denial, no more running from it.

Today, during a break of a longer practice, she sat slumped against the gym wall with Atsushi and Himuro.

Sweat still clung to her skin, her ponytail messy, but the smile tugging at her mouth was real.

"Scrimmage is soon, isn't it?" Himuro asked, his tone casual but warm.

Ren nodded, fiddling with the hem of her shirt. "Couple days. Riko says they've found more girls who want to try out, now that spring's here and the school year's shifting. Feels... real, finally."

Atsushi, chewing on a protein bar, hummed low in his throat. "Mm, 's gonna be so annoying with everyone cheering so loud."

Ren blinked at him. "Cheer? You guys?"

"Of course," Himuro said easily, already smiling. "What kind of teammates would we be if we didn't show up for you?"

Her heart stuttered.

For weeks, she'd been grinding alone, or with them at her side. But the thought of them choosing to show up, not because they had to, but because they wanted to—it made her chest ache in the best way.

"You better not lose," Atsushi added, but his eyes softened as he looked at her.

A small smile tugged at her lips–--her heart warmed at the thought of just how well she had come to understand him.

To most, his comment was just a nonchalant joke, but she knew the hidden sentiment. 

His words and jokes felt intimate nowadays, like they had their own coded communication just between the two of them.

His comment felt like he was telling her:

You'll be great.

*********

The sound of basketballs echoed off the high walls as Ren finished her last set of drills.

Sweat dampened her shirt, clinging to her back, but there was satisfaction in the burn of her muscles.

Himuro gave her an approving nod, while Atsushi—slouched against the wall, chewing idly on a piece of candy—muttered a lazy, "Better than last time."

Ren rolled her eyes but hid a blushing smile. Coming from him, it was praise.

They collapsed onto the floor after practice, the sound of sneakers squeaking replaced by the rhythm of their breathing.

Himuro stretched out his legs, tilting his head toward her with a sly smile.

"So," he said casually, "this scrimmage. If Seirin scoops you up, does that mean you're leaving us behind?"

Ren blinked, caught off guard. "What? No, it's not like that—"

But Himuro's grin widened, teasing. "I'm just saying. You'd better not forget about us when you're running with your shiny new team."

The others chuckled, but Ren felt her stomach twist.

She forced a smile, brushing it off, though Atsushi's eyes lingered on her a second longer than the rest.

"Let's get some food," Kenji spoke up, standing from his spot on the wood floors, "I'm starving."

"That's the best idea you've ever had Ken-chin." Atsushi grumbled, pushing his large hands off his knees to stand up.

"That's because your ears only work when food is mentioned," Kenji barked, turning his back away from the group, "Tch, arrogant bastard."

*********

The streets were buzzing with early spring energy, students spilling out of cram schools, couples laughing under lampposts. Ren walked between Himuro and Atsushi, listening to their easy banter.

They settled at a casual place near campus, noisy with students.

At the restaurant, they packed into a booth. The boys brought up conversation about the scrimmage again, about who'd be there, about how they'd all show up to cheer for her, and what would happen in the aftermath of it all.

Ren hesitated after the scrimmage was mentioned. "I mean if it goes well... Riko might offer me a spot. On Seirin's new girls team... as... captain."

There was a pause before Yuki dropped his chopsticks with an exaggerated clatter.

"Wait, WHAT?!" His voice pitched higher, earning a few heads turning from the next table.

Ren blinked. "What do you mean what?"

"You're telling me you might just... leave us? Like poof, gone?" Yuki leaned across the table, clutching his chest like he'd been stabbed. "After everything? After we've been suffering through Atsushi's bottomless appetite together?"

Himuro chuckled softly, Kenji rolled his eyes, but Yuki wasn't done.

He looked around at the others like he needed backup. "Does nobody else realize this means the end of an era? The death of our precious Ren at Yōsen?"

"Drama queen," Atsushi muttered under his breath, chewing lazily.

Ren flushed. "I never said I was leaving yet. It's just a scrimmage. An opportunity. I don't even know if I'll—"

Yuki cut her off with a groan, throwing his head back. "But you could! Which means I need to start emotionally preparing myself to walk into the gym and not see you there. You think my heart can handle that?"

Ren tried not to laugh, but the way he looked so utterly betrayed made her bite down on her lip. "You're being ridiculous."

"I'm being realistic!" Yuki shot back, before softening just a touch. "...I mean, yeah, it's amazing for you. You deserve it. But... don't think we're not gonna miss you like hell if you go."

The table grew quiet for a second, and Ren felt the weight of his words settle heavy in her chest.

It only made the war fighting itself in her heart wage on even more.

She had so many mixed feelings towards the scrimmage, Seirin, Yosen... and Atsushi. And honestly all the boys on the team. 

They really had become a family, something she didn't realize she needed after feeling so broken from her injury.

She had pushed her own parents away, moved, and isolated after it all. Disconnection and denial felt better than reality and... hurt.

Now, the thought of moving again and leaving this new found family at Yosen hurt.

The boys had resumed their jokes and conversations and Ren laughed along, her chest warm, but underneath it all her nerves buzzed like static.

At some point, she excused herself—phone in hand—as if to take a call outside. She needed a moment to herself, to relieve her aching heart and clear her mind.

The cool air hit her flushed cheeks as she stepped onto the street.

She wasn't gone long before voices broke into her solitude.

"Hey," one of the boys lounging near a storefront called out. "Haven't seen you around before. You from here?"

Ren stiffened. There were two of them, older looking students with cocky grins and even cockier dispositions.

She tried to wave them off with a polite shake of her head. "No sorry, I'm busy and gotta head back."

But they didn't budge, stepping closer, curiosity turning sharper. "Aw, don't be like that. We're just trying to talk. You got such a pretty face and that body—"

"Sorry not interested, my friends are waiting." Ren cut in, her voice firmer now.

Her pulse quickened, anxiety crawling under her skin.

She tried making it seem like she wasn't currently alone and made a point to vocalize that people would notice her absence.

Unfortunately things like this weren't exactly uncommon, and killing them with kindness didn't work either.

She needed to regroup with the boys before these idiots tried to do something that would get her in trouble or hurt.

And then—like a shadow sliding over the street—Atsushi appeared, his large frame looming behind her.

He was so tall, he seemed to blot out the lamplight behind him.

His usual half-lidded gaze was sharper now, fixed on the boys with a look of flat, unimpressed disinterest that somehow felt more dangerous than anger.

He didn't speak. He didn't need to.

The guys faltered, shifting uncomfortably under his stare. One muttered something about "not worth it" before they both shuffled off, disappearing down the street.

Ren exhaled, only now realizing she'd been holding her breath when her chest loosened.

She turned, wide-eyed. "Atsushi—what—how—"

"You were gone too long," he said simply, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Thought maybe you collapsed or something."

She flushed, embarrassment and gratitude colliding. "I—I didn't collapse. I was just—"

He shrugged, already turning back toward the restaurant. "Didn't look like you wanted to talk to them."

Ren followed, her heart still hammering for reasons she didn't want to think about, "I–"

"Didn't like them talking to you either."

Ren's eyes widened, ears hot and face now crimson. Her eyes fixed on the back of Atsushi's head as they walked back into the restaurant.

She flicked her gaze to Atsushi's large hand, hanging loosely at his side. It was balled into a tight fist, knuckles blanched.

Her fingers twitched in response, fighting the unconscious urge to reach for his hand and let him lead her back.

Ren shook her head and clasped her own hands together tightly, as if she needed to physically restrain herself from acting on her impulses.

"Thank you... Atsushi."

He didn't say anything, but Ren watched as his clenched hand loosened, and his shoulders relaxed.

Ren smiled at the sight, feeling her own body's tension dissipating and realizing what she was feeling right now in this moment:

Safe.

When they rejoined the others, Himuro raised a brow, catching the tint of red on her face. He smirked knowingly but said nothing.

Chapter Text

Ren smoothed her palms over the front of her hoodie, trying for the fifth time to convince herself she didn't look as nervous as she felt.

The morning light spilling through her window was soft, tinged with that faint warmth that hinted spring was finally taking hold.

Outside, the snow had mostly melted into slush, and the faint chatter of birds returned as though the world had decided to wake up all at once.

Her own stomach, however, was a knot of unease.

Today was the scrimmage.

Today she would step onto a court again in a real, organized game for the first time since her injury.

No doctor hovering, no careful excuses — this was it.

She paced her tiny apartment, backpack already packed, sneakers tied, water bottle on the counter.

She should have been ready, but every step felt heavier, her pulse thudding louder in her ears.

The sudden knock at her door startled her so badly she nearly tripped.

"Seriously?" she muttered, hurrying to the door and yanking it open.

And there he was.

Atsushi, towering in her doorway, hands shoved into his pockets, expression as lazy and unconcerned as always.

Those violet eyes peering down at her... his gaze was practically kindle to the growing fire in her lower stomach.

Ren blinked, an instant blush on her face. "Uh... what are you doing here?"

He tilted his head, purple hair falling into his face. "Picking you up."

That fire roared. She frowned. "What?"

"Today's the scrimmage? You're going to Tokyo?" He scratched his head, "Thought you'd want company. It's boring on the train alone."

Ren's mouth opened, then closed.

She stared at him, completely wrong-footed by how casual he sounded when her heart was about ready to crawl up her throat. "You—you don't even like traveling."

Atsushi shrugged, already stepping inside as if she'd invited him. "So? Doesn't matter. It's important to you."

The words caught her off guard.

Heat rushed to her face, not from nerves about the scrimmage, but from the unexpected softness in his tone.

'It's important to you.'

He didn't say things like that often — didn't need to. But when he did, it lodged deep in her chest.

Atsushi spent most of his mental and physical effort on making it known to others how unimportant everything was to him.

Him saying this so matter-of-factly was threatening the fire in her core to utterly implode.

She tried to play it off—easing her shaky breath, leaning against the doorframe. "You make it sound like I'd fall apart if you weren't there."

"You might," he said bluntly, amethyst eyes cutting to hers.

Her breath hitched. She failed.

And there for a moment, the teasing air slipped away, and was replaced by something heavier, full of tension, and more intimate.

Atsushi stepped closer, close enough that she could see the tiny flecks of light in his eyes, could feel the warmth of his body despite the chill air that followed him inside.

Close enough that she swore she could feel the static electricity bouncing between the little space between them. It made her skin go ablaze, her body practically begging her to just close the gap.

But she couldn't and wouldn't.

Ren was frozen in place despite every other part of her feeling like Atsushi had just personally set her on fire.

His eyes stayed on her, serious and unwavering. The unrelenting eye contact made her want to squeeze her eyes shut and turn away, but she found herself physically unable to.

Lost, entranced, or maybe even stunned were just some of the words that came to mind as she continued to stare back into his violet gaze.

"You're nervous, aren't you?" he asked, voice low, interrupting the loud silence between them.

Ren swallowed hard, her bravado act quickly dissolving.

"Right–right now..?" She managed to sputter out.

Atsushi maintained his eye contact with her, letting out a low and amused mumble, "I meant about your scrimmage, not me... I already know I make you nervous, Ren."

The fire that had been growing in her core burst out into an explosion as her eyes widened at him.

His deep tone was so... seductive as he knowingly teased her. The closeness of his face to hers, and god the sound of her name spilling from his lips the way it did.

This time, she couldn't handle it.

She squeezed her eyes shut, her hands reaching up to cover her crimson face. Taking a few shaky breaths, she finally found the courage to regain her dignity and flicked her eyes back to his.

"Maybe... a little I guess," she admitted. "It's just... everything. What if my knee doesn't hold up? What if I embarrass myself in front of everyone? What if—"

"Stop," Atsushi cut her off. "You'll be fine. You're just overthinking again Ren-chin."

The certainty in his voice was so unshakable it silenced her spiraling thoughts.

She looked up at him, wide-eyed, and that's when she realized just how close he really had gotten. 

He had placed his large hand on the wall beside her, his face hovering just inches from hers, his gaze unwavering.

If she moved just an inch, their noses would touch. It was like he was silently just... begging for the accidental brush of skin.

The air was so thick with the unspoken intimate tension—it was like their bodies were having their own private conversations, purposely excluding their minds and logic.

Neither of them moved or spoke.

Both encapsulated in each other's eyes and the closeness of it all—like they both knew what was unsaid on both ends.

Atsushi was the first to break the heated silence.

"I don't..." His voice dropped further, almost... vulnerable. "I don't want you to leave Yosen."

The confession hit her like a thunderclap and a hurricane all at once.

Ren felt every muscle freeze, her heart racing wildly and uncontrollably, her lips parting without a single word being able to escape.

He wasn't smirking, wasn't teasing — he was serious. Raw.

Her entire body was wreathed in flames, no doubt her face noticeably red in deep flush.

Before she could stop herself she whispered, it almost coming out as a quiet whimper,

"Atsushi..."

His piercing gaze finally broke their persisting stare and flicked down, just once, to her lips.

Time seemed to unbearingly stretch, every small detail magnified.

The faint flush across his cheeks, the brush of his hair against her forehead as it swayed forward, the way his breath mingled with hers in the scant space between them.

Seeing him like... this before her— sent a wave of confidence throughout her.

In one smooth gesture of her hand, she brushed the falling hair around his face and grasped onto the wrist of the arm that he had pressed against the doorframe.

The falter in his steady breath at her touch was the confirmation she needed— to know he too was feeling everything she was in this moment.

His reaction gave her another boost of confidence.

With his wrist still in her small grasp, she brought his large hand to cup the side of her face. Her ears warmed at his touch, shocked at her own bold action.

Instinctively, his long fingers weaved themselves through her hair and his thumb... just barely brushed over her bottom lip.

She was coming utterly undone at his intimate and gentle touches. Her knees were wobbling, threatening to give out from beneath herself. She was going to collapse at this point.

Almost as if Atsushi were reading her mind, his other arm moved, securing it around her waist.

Their height difference was ever apparent now, as his grasp on her was almost holding her up, putting her onto the balls of her feet.

Here, in his embrace, she was utterly at his mercy.

The arm around her waist slightly caused her hoodie to rise, and his fingers absentmindedly brushed the sides of her exposed skin at her waist.

She felt like she was melting into his touch, her grip on his wrist tightening at all the helpless sensations she was feeling. She hadn't meant to, but again, it caused Atsushi to let out a shaky breath, his grip around her waist tightening.

At this moment she had no logic, no control, no thoughts, and found herself leaning into his warm body, her own pleading for more of him.

Ren's eyes flicked towards his lips, his thumb still barely swiping over her own. If she tilted her chin just slightly, they'd—

A sharp knock at the door her back was against completely shattered the moment.

Ren practically jumped out of her skin, stumbling to the side as Atsushi straightened with infuriating calm, like he hadn't just been holding her, touching her, and had almost kissed her.

She scrambled to the doorknob, still completely flustered, and pulled it open — only to find Himuro standing there with several of their teammates crowding the hall.

"Good morning," Himuro said smoothly, then glanced past her shoulder. His smile tugged wider. "Oh? Atsushi's already here?"

Behind him, Yuki gasped dramatically. "What?! Wait, wait, wait! Don't tell me you two are—"

"NO," Ren blurted, far too fast, face flaming as she waved her arms. "Absolutely not, nothing like that, don't even—!"

Damn, she really was a bad liar.

Atsushi, naturally, didn't deny anything.

He leaned lazily against her couch, expression utterly blank, like the interruption hadn't fazed him at all.

"We're going together," he said simply.

The boys exchanged looks that made Ren want to crawl under the floorboards.

Yuki cupped his hands around his mouth. "Oooooooh, together, huh?"

Ren groaned, dragging a hand down her red face. "Kill me now."

But they didn't give her a reprieve.

Soon, her tiny apartment was filled with voices, the whole team bustling in with easy camaraderie as though this was their plan all along — to make sure Ren didn't face today alone.

Her heart was still pounding from that almost-moment with Atsushi, her mind still caught on the words he'd said and the feeling of his touches.

But as she looked around at Himuro's encouraging smile, Yuki's over-the-top dramatics, and Atsushi's calm, steady presence at her side, something in her chest eased.

She wasn't alone.

Not today.

And as the group headed out together, Ren clutching her bag a little tighter, she found herself daring to believe that maybe she was ready.

hope y'all ate that up bc I certainly did while writing it lol <33

Chapter Text

The train doors hissed open with a rush of cool air, and Ren stepped out onto the platform, her bag slung over her shoulder, the Yosen boys right behind her.

Tokyo felt different than she remembered—maybe because this time, she wasn’t just a visitor. 

She was here to play.

Her heart had been drumming in her chest the entire train ride, and the second her phone buzzed, she knew it was Riko.

Riko:  Minazuki!! Today’s the day! Just wanted to let you know there’s been a slight change of plans. Word got around and they’re anticipating a lot more people coming to watch, so we moved the scrimmage to the municipal gym off-campus! Meet us there, I can send you the address! I hope you’re feeling pumped and ready to go!! :)

Ren blinked down at the screen. A lot more people?

“Hey,” Yuki leaned over her shoulder to read the text on her phone screen. 

“A lot more people?” He gasped dramatically, pressing a hand to his chest. “Ren-chan, are you… famous!?”

“Shut up.” Her cheeks warmed, but her stomach flipped all the same.

“That must mean you already have fans,” Himuro teased, nudging her. “Guess we’ll have to start charging autographs.”

“Of course!” Yuki exclaimed, throwing his arms wide. “We can’t let our Ren-chan debut at Seirin without her fan club managers!”

“Tch, fan club’s loud.” Atsushi mumbled, walking past their stalled group.

Ahead of them, hands stuffed in his pockets, he muttered, “… Don’t get nervous, Ren-chin.”

She wasn’t sure if it was meant as encouragement, but her chest tightened all the same.

The rest of the boys caught up to Atsushi’s effortless long strides, caught up in the excitement of it all. They all talked over each other—laughing, smiling, teasing, and Ren felt the tension in her shoulders slightly release at the sight.

A small smile tugged at her lips, and despite wanting to throw up from the nerves of this historical day—she felt enormous gratitude for the support these idiots gave her.

*********

The municipal gym loomed larger the closer they got, the sound of voices echoing even before they stepped inside. 

By the time they arrived, the sidewalks outside were buzzing.

Students in Seirin colors, clusters of curious locals, even a few familiar faces from other schools—they were all filtering into the gym. 

Ren’s grip on her bag strap tightened, nerves prickling under her skin.

Inside, the court gleamed under the lights. 

Bleachers were already half full, with banners draped along the sides. And in the stands, there were even a couple faces she recognized from the Generation of Miracles. 

Her throat went dry. So many people…

“Guess this is it,” Himuro said lightly, adjusting his scarf as he stopped just short of the entrance. “We’ll grab seats up in the middle section. Best view of the court.”

Yuki leaned forward dramatically, pressing his palms together. “Ren-chan, good luck! Don’t forget us little people when you’re famous!”

Ren rolled her eyes, but the warmth in her chest betrayed her. “You’re impossible.”

Himuro smiled, softer. “We’ll be cheering for you the whole way. Just play your game.”

Her eyes flicked to Atsushi, who shoved his hands even deeper into his pockets. 

For a long moment he only stared at her, violet gaze threatening to make her nerves spike even more.

Then he muttered, “…Don’t mess up, Ren-chin.”

Ren blinked, and a laugh bubbled out before she could stop it. “That’s your version of encouragement?”

A faint shrug. “...You’ll be fine.”

And somehow, that meant more than all the words in the world.

“Minazuki!” Riko’s voice rang out, clipboard in hand as she appeared by the door. “Perfect timing, come on, you're with me now. The rest of the girls are already in the locker room!”

“Right, I’m coming!” She answered, trying to hide her anxiety by matching Riko’s energy.

Ren shot one last glance over her shoulder. 

Himuro gave her a thumbs-up, Yuki waved like a maniac, and then they followed in step with the rest of the boys that were heading towards the bleachers. 

And Atsushi… just watched, steady and unreadable. 

He remained an unmovable mountain amongst the constant flow of people around him who were finding their way. 

Suddenly it felt like it was just the two of them there, frozen in time, locked onto each other. The air between them was thick with something unsaid, but it felt like their eyes were communicating perfectly.

There was no teasing, no carefree tone in his voice as he spoke with meaningful intent, eyes not leaving hers, “Good luck Ren… be safe for me.”

Her eyes widened, her breath hitching.

She was so completely wrong. That meant more than all the words in the world.

They both just stayed there in that moment, Ren tried to say something but her mouth just moved with no words coming.

A hand grasping onto hers and pulling her in the direction away from Atsushi snapped her back into reality. Riko had a firm hold on her hand and was leading her towards the locker room.

Ren took one last glance back at Atsushi, trying not to trip over her own feet as she was being pulled. 

She could’ve sworn his lips had curved into the slightest smile and his cheeks held the faintest blush before turning towards the bleachers, his back towards her.

Her pulse quickened as she turned to follow Riko’s lead towards where the rest of the girls awaited in the locker rooms.

Only one thing now replaying in her mind:

Be safe… for me.

***********

The sharp squeak of sneakers and low chatter greeted Ren as she followed Riko inside the locker room. 

The girls buzzed with anticipation, a cluster of players stretching near the benches.

“Ren!” 

A familiar voice shot across the space, and then there was Izumi bounding over like a firecracker, her messy pink twin buns bouncing. “You made it!” 

Ren forgot the three girls she had previously already met would be here at the scrimmage. She felt a slight wave of relief at the thought.

“We were wondering if we’d get stuck starting without our ace!”

Ren flushed. “I’m not the ace.”

“You will be,” Izumi shot back with zero hesitation.

Izumi looked Ren up and down with a grin. “Oh my god, you actually look nervous. This is great—I was worried you’d come in all calm and cool and make the rest of us look bad.”

Ren let out a short laugh, shoulders loosening. “Trust me, I’m definitely not calm.”

Maki wasn’t far behind, steady as ever, dark ponytail swaying. Her grey eyes softened at the sight of Ren. 

“We’ve been waiting for this. Finally feels real.” She gave Ren’s shoulder a firm squeeze, the unspoken weight of you’ve got this settling in.

Noriko trailed behind them, notebook clutched to her chest. 

She hesitated before meeting Ren’s gaze, but when she did, her shy smile bloomed. 

“I—I watched some tapes on the girls I knew would be here last night. I… made some notes for us.” She held out a folded page with diagrams scrawled in sharp pencil, lines and arrows crowding the paper.

Ren blinked, touched. “Oh wow! You never stop, do you?”

Noriko ducked her silver head, murmuring, “I just… want us to be ready.”

Before Ren could respond, a voice she didn’t recognize piped up. “So this is the Ren Minazuki.”

She turned to see two unfamiliar faces approaching. 

The first was a tall, wiry girl with sharp amber eyes and a blonde braid slung over one shoulder. 

“Kanae Ishida,” she said briskly, offering a quick nod. “Point guard. Fast with the ball, faster without it.”

The second lingered half a step behind her—shorter, with curly brown hair pulled into a high puff, and an easy grin that spread across her face. 

“Sakura Miyamoto,” she said warmly. “Power forward. I’m here to rebound all your misses, so you’d better thank me later.”

Izumi immediately gasped. “Excuse me, what misses? Have you seen my shot?”

“You miss when you shoot too much,” Sakura teased, sticking her tongue out.

“Girls, girls,” Riko cut in, clapping her hands with a grin. 

“Plenty of time for trash talk once you’re in uniform. Right now, we’re making sure you all know each other’s faces. We’ve got a gym full of spectators waiting to see if Seirin’s first girls’ team is the real deal. So…” She gestured to Ren, eyes twinkling. “You’re looking at your captain. Don’t let her down.”

The group turned toward Ren expectantly. 

For a heartbeat, her chest tightened under the weight of it all—their trust, the buzz of the crowd outside, the sight of a dozen girls who were no longer just “interested” but committed.

Ren drew in a slow breath. 

“We’ve all got different strengths, different experiences. That’s fine. Today isn’t about being perfect. It’s about showing them we belong here.” She looked around the circle, letting her eyes meet each pair in turn. “So let’s play like it.”

Izumi whooped. “Hell yeah! Freaking girl power yo!”

Maki gave another firm nod. “I’m in.”

Even Noriko’s quiet “Me too” carried a steel edge that made Ren smile.

The bond was fragile, new—but in that moment, standing among them, it felt like the beginning of something real.

Riko clapped her hands, holding up a bundle of fresh jerseys—half white, half black, all stamped with Seirin across the front. 

“Alright, girls. Pick your sides. One team in white, one in black. Today isn’t about winning, it’s about testing chemistry, seeing who clicks where. But…” Her grin sharpened. “Don’t think that means I won’t be watching every detail.”

The air shifted—suddenly heavier, sharper. This wasn’t just a game. 

This was the start.

Chapter Text

Ren tugged her jersey on. The black material hugged close, the red lettering bold.

She tied her hair into a high ponytail, slipped her knee brace snug into place, then caught her reflection in the mirror.

The girl staring back wasn’t just Ren Minazuki, the girl who got hurt. She wasn’t just the one who cheered from the sidelines or took care of other players.

She was the player again.

But as soon as that thought bloomed, her stomach flipped. What if I’m not good enough anymore?

Behind her, Maki bumped her shoulder. “Point guard, huh? Don’t freeze up out there. We’re counting on you.”

Ren managed a smile. “Yeah. I won’t.”

************

The girls jogged out onto the court, sneakers squeaking against polished wood as the murmur of the growing crowd echoed around them.

On their way out, the chatter between the girls picked up again. 

Izumi glanced toward the muffled cheers and muttered, “Woah… really does feel like a real game.”

“It is a real game,” Maki said quickly, grinning. “Scrimmage or not.”

Ren’s pulse skipped at that. Like her heart was reminding her of the anxieties she carried, but at the same time, her mind—her mind felt even more determined hearing the girls were taking this just as seriously as she was.

Their voices blended with the noise of the gym, the buzz growing louder with every step.

Ren took in a long breath and adjusted her knee brace one last time, then bounced a ball against the floor, the familiar thrum steadying her pulse.

Feeling the hardwood beneath her sneakers as a player, was a familiarity she hadn’t realized she missed. The energy of it all was consuming and calming all at the same time.

As the girls gathered around on the court, one of them perked up the second her eyes spotted Ren. 

She had short black hair tucked under a headband, sharp grey eyes, and a grin that reminded Ren of someone she couldn’t quite place.

Ren hadn’t seen her in the locker room before, but looking at her eyes felt familiar.

“You must be Ren-senpai!” she said, bouncing forward to offer her hand. “I’m Ayane Izuki. Point guard. Nice to meet you!”

Ren froze halfway through shaking her hand. “Wait… Izuki?”

“Mmhm,” Ayane chirped proudly. “My big brother’s a starter on the Seirin boys’ team. He begged me not to tell anyone, but, well… here we are.”

Ren laughed, instantly picturing Izuki’s face turning pale at the thought of his little sister exposing him. “Yeah I know Izuki! That… explains a lot actually.”

Ayane leaned in, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Don’t worry. I’m way funnier than him.”

From across the court, Izuki himself was helping fill water bottles with Kagami and sneezed violently, glancing around as if he could sense his reputation being slandered.

Ren let out a chuckle and watched Ayane slip easily into the drill line after that, quick-footed and eager, her determination obvious even if her form wasn’t polished yet.

Izumi leaned toward Ren, smirking. “She’s cute. Think she’s got her brother’s court vision? The all famous ‘eagle eye’?”

Ren chuckled. “Let’s just hope she doesn’t inherit his timing.”

Riko clapped her hands sharply, snapping the girls back into focus. “Alright! Start with dynamic stretches—high knees, side shuffles, carioca! Get those muscles warm!”

The group followed her direction and broke into lines. 

Izumi, already brimming with restless energy, darted to the front. “Let’s gooo! No way I’m looking sluggish in front of an audience.”

“An audience of what? Half the school?” Noriko murmured, her voice dry but her blue eyes flicking nervously to the stands. 

She hugged her notebook against her chest until Ren nudged her shoulder.

“Relax. Think of it like practice. Just… with an obnoxious number of witnesses.”

Noriko’s lips twitched into the faintest smile. “That makes it worse.”

Maki was already pacing at the back, calm and steady. 

“Eyes forward. Focus. Pretend it’s noise.” She gave Ren a knowing look, and Ren found herself nodding back—Maki’s composure was almost contagious.

They launched into layup lines next. 

Izumi charged down the right wing with an exaggerated flourish, spinning in a dramatic euro-step before banking it in.

“Too flashy,” Maki called as she rebounded.

“Maybe you're too boring,” Izumi shot back, sticking her tongue out and winking.

Ayane came up next—slightly stiff but fast, determination written all over her face. She missed her first shot, grimaced, then hustled back in line.

“Good hustle,” Ren called. “Just keep your eyes on the glass next time.”

Ayane lit up, nodding furiously. “Yes, Ren-senpai!”

That earned her a round of teasing from the others.

“Careful, Aya,” Izumi sing-songed. “Sounding like a captain’s pet already.”

Ayane puffed her cheeks. “Better than being a ball hog!”

The banter had the group of girls laughing, the tension of the impending scrimmage bleeding into something lighter.

When it came to Ren’s turn, the ball rolled across her palms like it remembered her. She dribbled left, hesitated at the free-throw line, then exploded forward into a clean layup. 

The swoosh of the net sent a ripple down her spine. 

The court was hers again, and it felt good.

From the sideline, Riko cupped her chin in her hand, muttering observations. “Form’s sharp. Knee looks stable. Confidence still a little shaky, though.”

Ren caught her eye and Riko gave her a small, encouraging nod.

They shifted into shooting drills next—elbow jumpers, corner threes, catch-and-shoots. 

Izumi sank two in a row and crowed, “See? Automatic!” 

Noriko surprised everyone by nailing a smooth mid-range shot, her hidden eye peeking out from behind her silver hair as though she couldn’t quite believe she’d done it.

Ren slapped her palm, giving her a high five in approval. “Told you you’ve got it.”

Noriko flushed but smiled faintly, a rare burst of pride crossing her face.

All the while, Ren could feel eyes on her. 

She didn’t have to look to know who the pressing gaze belonged to.

Atsushi was watching—his gaze was weighty, steady, and for some reason, it sent a nervous thrill rushing under her skin.

*************

Ren landed from her layup, the ball swishing cleanly through the net. 

For a moment, it felt effortless, euphoric almost — the rhythm, the weight of the ball, the echo of sneakers. 

But when she hit the ground, a faint twinge shot through her right knee, sharp and quick as static. She winced, the smile slipping before she caught it. 

Great. Not now.

Jogging to the sideline, she tried to shake it off, bending her knee and rolling her ankle to loosen the muscles. The faint burn lingered. 

With a soft sigh, she sat on the bench, grabbing the roll of athletic tape from her bag.

She’d done this for teammates and the Yosen boys a hundred times — quick, clean, even wraps that stabilized and supported. 

But doing it on herself? Completely different story. 

The angle was wrong; her fingers kept fumbling as the tape clung to her skin too early or bunched unevenly.

“Stupid thing,” she muttered, trying again and failing just as miserably.

“Need help?”

Ren looked up, startled. 

Kagami crouched beside her, his thick brows raised, one hand resting on his knee. Sweat darkened his hairline from helping the girls warm up earlier, but his exterior was cool, giving a slight grin towards Ren.

“Oh—uh, I’m good, just—” She tugged at the tape and it peeled halfway off. “Actually, maybe not.”

Kagami chuckled and reached for the roll. “Here. Consider this returning the favor from when you set me straight that one day at Seirin.”

He worked carefully, wrapping her knee with surprising precision. His hands were steady, gentle, the kind of care that came from experience. 

“How’s that feel?”

Ren bent her leg experimentally. The pressure was firm but comfortable. 

She beamed a smile in gratitude. “...Perfect. Thanks, Kagami.”

He shrugged, standing up. “No big deal. Go kill it out there.”

Before she could answer, a sound rose from the stands — a cluster of cheers, whistles, and teasing shouts. The crowd was getting antsy as the tip off was minutes away now.

She followed Kagami’s gaze instinctively and spotted the Yosen boys sitting near the middle rows. 

Himuro waved as he noticed Ren looking at their group; Yuki had his hands shaped into a megaphone, shouting something she couldn’t hear.

And there — in the middle of them — was Atsushi.

He wasn’t cheering. Just sitting, one arm draped lazily over the back of his chair, eyes fixed on her with that unreadable, heavy stare. 

However this was different. 

Colder, sharper, rather than his typical way of seemingly looking right through her and knowing exactly how she was feeling.

Even from across the gym, she could feel it. The intensity of… disdain? Anger?

She was used to Atsushi’s nonchalant and carefree attitude, but this… this was something she had not seen from him.

Her pulse tripped over itself. 

Why does he look like that?

She tried to look away, but her cheeks betrayed her, burning hot as she turned back to Kagami.

He followed her line of sight, smirk tugging at his lips. “Your friends are loud.”

“Yeah,” she said weakly, shoving the tape back in her bag. “Loud’s one word for it.”

The sharp peep of a whistle sliced through the gym. The ref called for both teams to line up.

Riko clapped her hands. “Alright, ladies! Bring it in!”

The girls hustled over. 

Ren stood, her knee feeling stronger, steadier. Kagami stepped back, giving her a reassuring thumbs-up. She returned it with a small grin.

“Good luck,” he said. “We’ll be cheering.”

Riko gathered them all in a tight circle, a messy huddle of nerves and adrenaline.

“You’ve all worked hard to get here,” she said, voice steady but proud. “This scrimmage isn’t about who wins — it’s about showing everyone that you belong on this court. That us girls belong on this court too. Play smart, play for each other, and trust your instincts.”

Noriko adjusted her bangs and took a deep breath. “No pressure.”

“Just the right amount,” Ren said, smiling.

They broke the huddle with a cheer, the sound echoing up to the rafters. The crowd got even louder in response.

As they all walked to center court, Ren mentally noted the lineup. 

She was tasked with being the starting point guard for her team, the anchor, playmaker. Ren assumed it was Riko’s way of preparing her for the captain role she wanted Ren to fulfil.

Maki being solid as ever, was their team's forward, Izumi personally asked to play shooting guard, Ayane was small forward, and Noriko was their team's center— tall, reserved, but fierce when it counted.

Ren looked over her fellow eager teammates, such strong women, all ready to shine on the court. A rush of pride, confidence, and determination ran through her all at once.

Across from them, the opposing team lined up in Seirin’s white uniforms, confident and composed. A sharp contrast to the black uniforms Ren’s team donned.

Sakura and Kanae--the girls she interacted with in the locker room, were on the white team. Formidable opponents, just as fierce and determined as the rest of them.

The ref’s whistle echoed again, signaling tip-off was seconds away.

Ren bounced on her toes, feeling the adrenaline tighten in her chest. 

The gym noise blurred — cheers, sneakers, the hum of excitement. She could just barely hear Yuki’s dramatic shouts over the rest of the crowd.

And for a brief second, she glanced back at the stands again.

She needed just one more glance, one more boost of reassurance from the only person she seeked it from.

Her eyes found him easily.

Atsushi hadn’t looked away, violet eyes still locked onto her.

A slight nod of his head made her stomach do back flips.

Okay… okay. Don’t think. Just play.

The whistle shrieked and then the ref tossed the ball high.

Everything felt like it was happening in slow motion.

The ball spinning high in the air, her knees bending in readiness, the crowds chants. Every single person in the gym had their eyes glued to the ball.

And then—

Noriko leapt for it.

And the game began.

Chapter Text

Atsushi POV

The gym buzzed with noise—cheers, sneakers squeaking, whistles echoing off the walls.

Atsushi hated all of it.

Too loud. Too bright. Too many people moving around like ants.

And yet… he didn’t look away from the court.

Ren was out there. Her black Seirin uniform fitting too perfectly, the sight of her in a jersey and basketball shorts doing unlawful things to his mind and body.

He burned the image of her like this into his memory, in her element—her happy place. 

But honestly, he’d rather see her in his jersey, with his number on her back, her small frame drowning in the large size of it. 

He watched her, her ponytail swinging, eyes determined. She moved like she’d been waiting her whole life to be back here—sharp cuts, clean shots, the kind of focus that made the rest of the world disappear.

She looked calm, but he could tell—he could feel the nerves humming through her. He’d spent too long around her not to.

He slouched lower in his seat, chin resting in one hand, eyes fixed on the court below.

“Man, she looks good out there,” Yuki said from beside him, leaning forward with a grin. “You think she’s nervous?”

Atsushi didn’t answer. His jaw tightened.

Himuro shot him a knowing side glance. “You could at least pretend you’re not glaring holes in the court.”

“I’m not glaring,” he muttered.

“Right,” Himuro hummed. “Your eyes just happen to be stabbing everything in her general direction.”

Atsushi sank lower in his seat. “Tch… Shut up.”

He told himself he wasn’t watching her that closely, but he couldn’t help it. 

His gaze stayed locked on her.

Every layup, every drive—he tracked them all, subconsciously mirroring her rhythm with the slow tap of his fingers on his thigh. 

He marked even the smallest things, like the way the stray hairs from her ponytail brushed her neck. The faint wrinkle between her brows when she missed a shot and reset her stance.

And the spark in her blue eyes, shining brighter with every shot, every dribble of the ball.

When she smiled after a perfect shot, his chest tightened.

She was glowing, lighting up the whole gym with her happiness. 

It was a sight that filled him with both joy and sadness—a bittersweet feeling that felt… selfish. He wanted it all for himself, wanted her all to himself.

Then—

Ren landed from a layup, flinching just enough for his pulse to spike  

She quickly brushed it off, of course, pretending it didn’t hurt. He could tell.

She went to the bench, grabbing something from her bag. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, jaw tight.

She was pushing it.

He watched as she pulled out her athletic tape from her bag, taking off her knee brace to apply the extra support she realized she needed.

He let out a small exhale in relief. She was being safe.

Good girl.

Ren struggled as she attempted to try and tape her knee. Her fingers fumbled, the tape wrinkling.

His hand twitched. Watching her fumble with the tape made him itch to move, to walk down there and just do it for her.

Then—

Kagami knelt in front of her.

Atsushi froze, teeth clenching.

That tall idiot’s big hands moved with easy confidence, steadying her leg, wrapping the tape snugly. 

Ren laughed at something he said—soft, real, her head tilted just slightly down at him.

Something unpleasant clawed up Atsushi’s chest.

Himuro noticed, of course. He always did.

“Relax,” he said mildly, voice half amusement, half warning.

Atsushi didn’t answer. His teeth had already pressed together.

He tried not to glare, but it was useless.

Kagami’s laugh was too loud. Ren’s smile lingered too long. And that little twist in his stomach wouldn’t go away.

She looked good when she smiled. Too good.

He hated that Kagami got to see it that close.

He shifted in his seat, slouching deeper, long legs sprawled out. “She just lets anyone touch her knee now?” he mumbled, not realizing he’d said it out loud.

Himuro smirked. “You sound jealous.”

“I’m not.”

Himuro made a quiet sound that might’ve been a laugh. “Ah. There it is.”

Atsushi’s eyes narrowed at him, fire raging. “There what is?”

“The look,” Himuro said lightly. “You get that look when someone tries to steal your food. Except right now… it’s not food.”

“...Shut. Up.”

He flicked his stare back to the court, away from Himuro. Because… he guessed that, he was jealous. He just didn’t like how that word felt.

When Ren stood, testing her knee, his chest loosened a little. She was okay.

The rest of the Seirin guys were filtering around, tossing balls, filling water bottles, but Atsushi only saw her—knee taped, brace secure, smile faint, face turned slightly toward the stands as if she knew he was watching.

Then she looked toward the stands.

Their eyes met.

Just for a second.

But that second did something to him—something that made his pulse trip, his throat go dry.

Her lips parted slightly. Her cheeks flushed. And she quickly turned away, switching her focus on the ref.

Atsushi hated how good that made him feel.

It sent volts of electricity throughout him; the fact that he was the only one that could make her react like that, with just a look. 

Atsushi didn’t blink. He didn’t even breathe until she was gone from his line of sight again.

He sank back in his seat, one hand dragging through his hair. “Tch… she’s such a dummy,” he muttered, voice too soft for anyone but Himuro to hear. 

But the corner of his mouth tugged, just barely.

The crowd erupted around him, Yuki and Himuro joining in on the cheers.

Himuro glanced at him, amused. “What was that?”

“Nothing.”

Atsushi watched as Ren joined her team at center court, standing tall, focused, ready. She beamed a smile towards her teammates.

His chest ached with something that definitely wasn’t irritation.

And when the whistle blew and the game started, he was still smiling

Chapter Text

The whistle cut through the gym like a spark snapping against air.

Ren’s pulse matched it beat for beat.

The ball tipped up, arcing toward the ceiling lights, and in that instant—she was back.

Back where everything made sense. Back where she belonged.

Her sneakers squeaked against the court as she took her position, watching Noriko come down from claiming the ball and pass to Izumi. 

The municipal gym wasn’t Seirin’s usual home court—it was bigger, newer, and packed full of people. Parents, students, reporters, even a few coaches from other schools. 

The buzz was electric. It was exhilarating. And terrifying.

“Ren—ball!” Izumi’s voice snapped her back. The pass zipped through the air, clean into Ren’s hands.

Her body moved on instinct. The familiar weight settled like it had never left. 

A month of drills, early mornings, late nights, and endless physical therapy on her knee had led her here. Her friends as well, being along every step of the way, supporting her.

Every beat of her heart matched the rhythm of the bounce—steady, sure, right.

Step, pivot, pass. The rhythm of motion sang through her. 

It had been a long time since she’d played on a team, but her body remembered—the weight shifts, the footwork, the timing. 

It was like… breathing again.

Riko’s voice cut through the noise from the sidelines, directing plays. “Minazuki, up top! Let’s go!”

Ren nodded, weaving through defenders, calling out rotations, her breath clouding faintly in the cool gym air. 

Her body felt good. Not perfect—but good enough. Good enough to belong.

Ren caught the inbound, calling out, “Shift left—screen, now!”

Izumi darted across the key, her messy twin buns bouncing as she cut through the defense. Maki slipped in behind her, setting a solid screen. 

Ren took the gap, driving hard up the middle. Two defenders converged—perfect. She snapped the ball to Noriko, who was wide open beyond the arc.

“Shoot it!” Ren shouted.

Noriko hesitated—just a second too long—but then squared her shoulders and released. The ball swished.

The crowd erupted.

Ren clapped, grin breaking wide. “That’s what I’m talking about!”

Izumi jogged past, giving Noriko a high-five. “See? You got this!”

The momentum shifted. 

The girls started to sync like they’d been doing this for months—calling out switches, trading glances, and moving with growing trust.

Riko’s voice cut through the gym, excited and sharp. “Good spacing! Keep your tempo! White team, kick it up!”

Ren pushed the pace on the next possession, threading through defenders, passing behind her back to Maki who banked it clean off the glass. 

They were up by four now, the energy infectious.

From the stands, murmurs spread. “These girls are good.” “That point guard—she’s fast.” “Isn’t that Yosen’s Minazuki?”

Ren heard the whispers and tried not to think about them, focusing on the bounce of the ball in her hands, the sound of her teammates’ sneakers. 

This is what I’ve missed, she thought. This is what it feels like to breathe again.

***************

Atsushi lounged in the stands, one long arm draped over the back of the seat beside him. He looked lazy enough that no one would guess how closely he was watching.

Ren moved like she belonged on that court. 

The way her hair bounced, the quick cuts of her feet, the sharp flick of her wrist with every pass—it was annoyingly captivating.

She looked happy.

He’d seen her tired, quiet, shy, sharp-tongued, and even sick—but this? The glow in her expression when she nailed a perfect assist or called out a play? 

That was new. It tugged something in him he couldn’t name.

Himuro leaned in with a faint grin. “She’s really in her element, huh?”

Atsushi only hummed, pretending to be bored. “...Yeah.”

But he wasn’t. Not even close.

His gaze drifted every time she smiled at a teammate, or when the short pink-haired girl clapped her on the back after a clean layup. 

Every little interaction made something tighten in his chest.

He didn’t like that feeling.

When Ren laughed—actually laughed—after missing a shot, brushing off the mistake with an easy grin, he found himself biting the inside of his cheek.

It wasn’t fair. He was used to her smiling at him.

His foot tapped against the floor, restless. 

Himuro said something else—something about how it was good to see Ren looking confident again—but Atsushi barely heard it.

All he could focus on was the flush in her cheeks, the curve of her mouth, and the way she looked like she belonged out there with everyone else.

Like… she didn’t need him at all.

He hated that thought more than he should’ve.

*******************

Ren darted around a screen from Maki, caught the ball again, and went straight for the shot. 

It felt good—the drive, the release, the arc. 

The ball hit the rim once—then bounced out.

Aya was quick to get the rebound, and quickly zipped the ball back to Ren.

High on the rush, she went for another fast break, and went up for a layup—fluid, perfect form—and when she came down, her knee gave a sharp twinge.

It wasn’t a pop or a snap—just a fast flicker of pain. Still, it was enough to send a shock through her. 

She landed and stumbled, catching herself with a palm against the floor. 

Her breath caught, and she clutched her thigh instinctively before forcing herself upright.

Izumi gasped. 

Riko’s whistle shrieked from the sidelines. “Ren! You okay?!”

“I’m fine!” she shot back, waving her hand even though her pulse was skipping. She bent her knee once—ache, but bearable. 

Her pride burned hotter than the sting.

The crowd murmured, tension rippling through the noise. 

“Ren, you good?” Maki asked.

Ren forced a grin toward her teammates, rubbing her shaky knee. “Yeah I’m fine. Sorry, just testing gravity I guess.”

Izumi laughed, bumping her shoulder. “Don’t scare us like that!”

But as she straightened, the smile wavered. 

She couldn’t stand how broken she felt, especially with everything riding on this scrimmage. 

But she was determined, and she would not break today.

*****************

Atsushi leaned forward, elbows braced on his knees, eyes fixed on her. 

The usual lazy half-lidded stare was gone; in its place was something sharp. Focused.

Himuro watched him out of the corner of his eye. “You’ve barely blinked since it started.”

Atsushi didn’t answer. 

His gaze tracked Ren’s every movement—the swing of her ponytail, the way her shoulders squared before a drive, how her knee brace flexed as she pushed off.

“She’s too tense,” he muttered quietly. “She overthinks when she’s nervous.”

Himuro smiled faintly. “And yet, you look more nervous than she does.”

Atsushi slumped back in his seat, arm draped over the back, but didn’t take his eyes off her. “...Tch. I’m just making sure she doesn’t fall apart.”

Himuro didn’t respond, but Atsushi could feel his gaze still lingering over him. It was annoying how well Himuro could see through him.

Then came the moment that froze his breath—Ren going up for a layup, the soft twist of her form in the air, and then—a stumble.

The sound of shoes squeaking and the echo of the whistle faded into the background.

All Atsushi could hear was the dull thud of his own heartbeat.

Ren had gone down hard—too hard.

She’d tried to push herself up right away, brushing it off with a small, strained smile that fooled no one who was actually looking. 

Himuro muttered something beside him, maybe a curse, maybe her name, but Atsushi didn’t register it. 

His body had already leaned forward before his mind caught up, one hand gripping the railing in front of him so tightly that his knuckles went white.

The rest of the gym blurred. Atsushi’s entire body had gone still.

His heart dropped, the lazy posture gone in an instant. 

His eyes were locked on her—on the way she rubbed her knee, the faint grimace she tried to hide. 

Himuro switched his stare to Atsushi’s hand tightening on the railing in front of them.

“Easy,” Himuro murmured. “She’s standing.”

Atsushi’s jaw flexed, eyes narrowing. “...She shouldn’t have tried to drive like that.”

Ren was insisting she was fine—Atsushi could see it in the stubborn set of her jaw, the fake steadiness of her smile—but he knew better. 

He’d seen that same look before: the one she wore when she swore she wasn’t hurting.

Yuki, two seats down, leaned forward. “Dude, you look like you’re gonna storm the court.”

“I might,” Atsushi muttered darkly. “If she tries that again.”

His chest ached, hand still firmly grasping the railing.

Himuro said his name once, quietly. “Atsushi—she’ll be fine.”

He didn’t respond. He couldn’t. 

His jaw was locked tight, his gaze fixed on Ren like she’d vanish if he blinked. 

She was rubbing her knee, and even though her expression barely changed, the way her shoulders tensed gave her away.

She wasn’t fine.

Every instinct in him screamed to move—to vault the railing, to go down there and pull her off the court himself—but he stayed seated, only because the other players on the court reminded him it wasn’t his place. 

Not right now. Not yet.

Then Ren looked up.

Her eyes scanned the crowd, the glint in them telling him her pride had been shaken a bit. 

And for the briefest second, they landed on him. Just one heartbeat—just one shared glance—but it hit him like a punch to the chest.

She smiled. Small. Brave. Infuriating.

He exhaled shakily through his nose, shoulders sagging as if that tiny, stubborn smile had stolen all the fight out of him.

Back on the court, Riko gave the signal to the ref. 

Ren took a tentative step forward, then another. Her movement smoothed out, the limp barely noticeable.

Her confidence seemed to be regained as it shined through the smile she gave her teammates. He couldn’t fight the warmth that pooled in his gut at that sight.

Atsushi slouched back in his seat, his eyes still following Ren. 

He couldn’t help the faint smirk tugging at his lips. 

He tilted his head slightly, watching the way she pointed to her teammates, her eyes bright with focus and adrenaline, like her knee falter never even happened.

The lazy, half-bored center of Yosen was gone. In his place was something far more dangerous.

He leaned back, eyes hooded but burning.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured, low—so low only he could hear it.

The words felt heavy, like a secret he wasn’t ready to share yet. 

Himuro noticed the change in his posture—the subtle pride, the quiet possessiveness—but wisely said nothing.

As the scrimmaged continued, Atsushi watched every play she made, every pivot, every time her knee twisted a little too sharply. 

The crowd roared and the whistle blew, his teammates obnoxiously cheering beside him.

Pride and adornment washed over him in waves as he watched Ren, but there was one thing he couldn’t shake that was still making his pulse hammer.

All he could think about was wanting Ren to be happy and to have fun, but the instinctual desire to keep her safe and protect her from herself wouldn’t leave his mind. 

And he knew only one thing.

If she pushed herself too far again, and she got hurt… 

He’d be down there in a heartbeat, throwing her over his shoulder and off the court—rules, crowd, and reputation be damned.

Chapter Text

The sound of squeaking shoes and the sharp rhythm of the ball hitting the court filled the gym.

Ren’s pulse pounded in time with every pass. 

The scoreboard flickered—two minutes left, her team down by three. 

Sweat trailed down her temple, her breathing uneven but focused.

“Ren, left!” Maki’s voice cut through the noise.

Ren pivoted, catching the pass with one hand. Izumi darted ahead like lightning, signaling Ren to pass for the corner shot.

The defense from the white team closed in, but Ren’s instincts kicked in. She feinted right, spun through the gap, and dished the ball to Izumi just as the pink haired girl launched a perfect arc from the corner.

The swish of the net seemed to echo across the court.

Cheers erupted from both benches as well as the full stands. 

Izumi whooped mid-backpedal, and Ren couldn’t help but grin, bumping her fist with hers as they retreated to the other side of the court to get ready for defense.

“Nice pass, ace!” Izumi beamed.

Ren huffed out a breath between smiles. “Right back atchya, nice shot dude!”

The opposing team pushed hard on their offense, but Maki and Noriko worked the backcourt like they’d been teammates for years—Maki’s reach, Noriko’s speed, and Ren’s voice steering them from the middle. 

They didn’t have perfect rhythm yet, but for the first time, it felt like a team. They felt like a team.

Ren only let herself day dream for a second, but in that moment, she felt like she could picture the future. Her team and the late night practices, the tournaments, training, their bond growing into a real family.

The crowd’s energy buzzed through her like it was alive.

She could hear Riko shouting something analytical from the sidelines. She could hear the Seirin boys yelling encouragement—Kagami’s voice loudest of all—and somewhere above that, a low, familiar rumble. 

Atsushi’s voice. It wasn’t loud, but she heard it anyway, threading through the noise, grounding her.

That sound was all she needed to pour the rest of her heart into this last moment, a moment she honestly never wanted to end.

One minute left. Tie game.

Ren’s knee protested as she cut toward the lane, but she ignored it—her mind burning with pristine clarity. 

Izumi darted around a screen and passed back to her. The defense closed in, and Ren drove straight through. 

A blur of motion. The slow of time. Every sense was heightened as Ren went for the shot.

The weight of the balls of her feet, pressing hard into the polished wood as she jumped. The rough texture of the ball leaving her finger tips with perfect form. The sweat beads that dripped down the sides of her temples and the fly away hairs that had escaped from her ponytail.

Ren could feel the air shift around her as she came back down from her jump. Thick with burning anticipation as everything around her seemed to go in slow motion.

And then—

The ball kissed the backboard and slipped perfectly through the net with a satisfying swish.

Her lungs burned.

Her heart soared.

The final buzzer sounded just moments later—her team ahead by two.

For a beat, everything was silent. The crowd, Riko, Seirin boys, Ren, and the other girls on the court. 

No one made a squeak or a peep. The only sound being the hard breaths coming from the exhausted players as Ren just stared dazed at the scoreboard.

And then—

The gym exploded into a burst of cheers, yells, and chants. It was so loud, it made Ren’s ears pulse and sting a bit.

But it didn’t matter.

The only thing that did was the fact that her team had just won—she had made it through.

She did not break. 

The hope she had been shoving down was now springing forward, consuming her entire being. Because that hope no longer was false—it was real. 

And her thoughts of playing again on a real team were no longer just daydreams—they were an actual reality.

The loud cheers continued to boom and bounce off the walls, reeling Ren back into the present.

Her teammates surrounded her, laughing, arms around shoulders and backs, sweaty and breathless and glowing with the same wild relief that coursed through her veins. 

Riko and the Seirin boy’s voices carried from the sideline, proud and triumphant. 

Even the boys from Yosen were on their feet. Ren’s chest heaved, eyes darting instinctively toward the stands—and she froze.

Atsushi… was on his feet too.

For a second, Ren couldn’t hear anything over the pounding of her heartbeat.

He was there and was actually standing, his long frame cutting through the crowd.

His expression wasn’t unreadable this time—his usual boredom replaced by something different.

His large hands came together, slow but real, a quiet pride shining through the stoicism. 

His gaze caught hers, and for a heartbeat, she couldn’t breathe. 

He was smiling—not wide, not showy—but smiling. For her. 

For her and no one else.

Ren did that. She was the cause of his genuine smile. She was the reason he was beaming with pride.

Something in her chest utterly melted, glowing hot and sweet all at once. It made her legs feel even more like jelly, adding on to the soreness and exhaustion her muscles already ached with.

She couldn’t help it. She grinned back, bright and wide and stupid and entirely too much like the little girl she used to be.

“Ren!” Izumi barreled into her, catching her off guard and hugging Ren from the side. Maki followed with a shining grin, slapping her shoulder. “We did it!”

She laughed, dizzy with adrenaline still coursing through her body. “We really did.”

Then, as Seirin’s boys jogged onto the court to congratulate them, Ren saw Kagami striding toward her with that same fiery grin. 

“That was insane, Minazuki!” he said, bumping her fist before pulling her up onto his shoulder, high above the swarm of people cheering on the court. “One hell of an ace!”

Izuki had lifted Aya onto his shoulders as well, despite her obvious protest, and Hyuga followed suit by lifting Izumi. Everyone was celebrating—even the girls team who lost—for this group of girls had just made history.

And it was surreal, the fact that the likelihood of Seirin creating a girl’s basketball team was almost guaranteed now.

Amongst the overjoyed crowd on the court parading the girls around like queens, Ren realized how high she was sitting on Kagami’s shoulder with his arm secured around her thigh.

For a second, she thought about what it might feel like to have Atsushi celebrate her in this way. To have his large hands keeping her steady on his shoulder, how much higher in the air she would be than she was right now with Kagami, to have her… ass so close to his—

Ren threw away that thought faster than any play she made today. She could already feel her ears heating with embarrassment like everyone around her could read her mind or something.

With Atsushi somehow always finding his way to her thoughts, it made her look back towards the stands, eager to see his proud expression again.

And just like that—she saw it. A shift in Atsushi’s face.

The smile he had worn had flickered out. 

His eyes had darkened. His jaw set. 

His applause had stopped, muscular arms crossed tight over his chest.

Atsushi had gone from proud… to something darker. 

His eyes flicked toward Kagami underneath her, his jaw tightening a bit more just slightly. It was subtle—almost invisible—but Ren caught it instantly. 

Her pulse stuttered. Stomach dropped.

The grin that had been plastered on her face slowly dropped, eyes locked onto him, searching every inch for clues as to why his demeanor had changed so abruptly.

Riko’s voice rang out, calling everyone into a group huddle, and Ren forced herself to look away, to focus, but the image stuck—that fleeting moment where Atsushi’s expression had changed.

The team celebration blurred after that—photos, Riko’s pep talk, the buzz of reporters asking about the potential for a Seirin girls’ team. 

Everything around her felt hazy, pulled at the edges by something she didn’t want to name.

Chapter Text

Despite the sun settling into the horizon, bringing out the scattered stars and dark sky—Ren and her band of misfits were lively as ever.

Seirin’s boys, Yosen’s, a handful of the Generation of Miracles, and all the girls who’d played alongside her—all crammed into one noisy place. 

Riko had declared it a “joint victory dinner,” and somehow no one had said no—plus more kept inviting themselves to the function.

The restaurant buzzed with laughter and clinking plates. It was one of those lively family-style places near the Tokyo station—wide tables pushed together, pitchers of soda and tea scattered between steaming dishes of fried rice, karaage, and noodles. 

The energy from the scrimmage still hung thick in the air, electric and golden.

Ren sat near the middle of the long table, cheeks still flushed from the afterglow of victory. 

Her hair was tied back messily now, stray strands sticking out the low bun, the Seirin jersey swapped for a hoodie that smelled faintly of sweat and detergent. 

Around her, the chatter was a beautiful, chaotic mix of voices—Kagami and Aomine arguing across the space, Riko already planning the roster of the girls team, Izuki and his sister were bickering over their puns, and Kise causing chaos per usual.

Observing the mix of people and athletes, Ren realized that she had never come face to face with any of the Generation of Miracles until now besides Atsushi and Akashi. And it was slightly intimidating.

They all carried themselves with this intensity, a kind of confidence and presence that shifted the atmosphere when they entered a space. 

And unfortunately, each one of them were devastatingly beautiful—and hot. It was kind of infuriating how pretty these boys were, as well as being basketball prodigies.

Pushing away that irritating thought, Ren returned her focus into being present and onto the group of people she came here with.

Kagami and Kuroko sat across from her, now arguing over which was more important, assists or shots. Kise was next to them, golden hair shining, and grinning ear to ear as he snapped photos. 

“Ahhh, everyone looks so radiant after a win! C’mon, Ren-chi, smile for me—”

Ren nearly choked on her drink as the flash from his phone caught her like a deer in headlights. “Kise—I look awful, delete that—!”

Too late. The sound of his phone saving the picture was followed by his dramatic sigh of awe. “You’re so photogenic when you’re mad Ren-chi.”

“Delete it,” she deadpanned, reaching across the table, but Kise only laughed harder, leaning out of reach and raising his phone high above his head.

Aomine, done fighting with Taiga and half-slouched beside Kise, smirked into his drink. “Relax, hotshot. You should be used to fanboys by now.”

Ren glared at him, though her lips twitched and her cheeks heated slightly. “You all act like you don’t have enough ego for ten teams.”

Laughter rippled around the table. Even Himuro beside her chuckled, his calm voice breaking through the noise. “They’re just jealous, Minazuki. Not everyone gets a fanclub and a win on the same day.”

That drew a fresh round of teasing and counterarguments.

“Speak for yourself,” Kise rebuttaled, running a hand dramatically through his hair, “I for one have a massive fanclub and am loved by many.”

Aomine unbothered, took the opportunity of Kise fawning over himself and grabbed the meat off his plate, “Your fanclub consists of you and your mommy Kise.”

“You know that’s not true Aomine-chi! So mean!”

“Whatever, pretty boy.”

Izumi, seated on Ren’s other side, clinked her glass against hers, ignoring the boys. “Our ace killed it out there.”

“Seriously,” Noriko added shyly, smiling. “You really held the team together, Minazuki.”

Ren smiled faintly, flicking her eyes down to her plate, embarrassed by the praise. “It was all of us, as a team. We worked together and we did it.”

The whole table felt warm. Lively. Safe. Like she really did belong here, and for once Ren let herself relax into that feeling and let go of all the months of tension that had been building for this very day.

But something in the atmosphere next to her was… quieter. A sharp contrast to the boisterous and bright environment that the rest of the group was emitting at the table.

Atsushi.

He sat at the far end of the table—large frame leaned back, chopsticks in hand, lazily poking at his food, staring at his drink with the bored detachment of a cat watching raindrops.

Which was a blatantly obvious tell that something was wrong. 

His violet hair was messy, strands framing his face, almost like a shield to keep others from really seeing him. To anyone else, he probably looked relaxed, maybe tired. Bored, even. 

But Ren could tell. She could see through the wall he had built.

He barely looked at her since the game. When she thanked him for coming, he just hummed. For whatever reason, he had shut her out completely.

Now, his eyes were no longer drifting around the room or lazily zoning out and stagnant—they were on her. Watching. Sharp.

And every time someone leaned too close to talk to her—especially Kagami, Aomine, or Kise—that lazy gaze darkened just a shade.

When Izuki cracked a pun that made half the table groan, Ren laughed softly, only to feel the weight of that stare again, burning holes into the side of her head. 

Her smile faltered, brows scrunching in confused frustration when she looked back to the brooding giant.

What is his problem? What did she do?

She tried to focus on the conversation and the people around her, but the awareness of him pulled at her like gravity.

Even when Himuro leaned over to pass her a plate and asked her how her knee was feeling, she caught it—that subtle tightening of Atsushi’s jaw. The small crease between his brows that no one else would’ve noticed. 

By the time dessert was ordered, the chatter had split into smaller clusters. Some were swapping highlights from the scrimmage; others were already making plans for the train ride home and getting ready to leave. 

Ren found herself talking with Riko and the girls about potential tryouts when she heard and felt the faint scrape of a chair.

Atsushi stood, stretching lazily. 

“...I’m gonna wait outside,” he mumbled, not looking at anyone in particular.

Ren blinked, eyes looking to his plate of untouched food and back to him as he walked out the door, ducking a bit under the frame. “Uh—”

“Let him be,” Himuro said quietly. “You know how he is.”

But Ren didn’t know, actually. Not when it came to this. She didn’t even know what this was, or why he was being so… unlike his normal nonchalant self.

What was mostly concerning, was the fact that she had seen the pride, the smile, and the joy from him in that short moment after her team won the scrimmage—and how quick it was erased.

What happened?

Ren tried to listen to Himuro, she really did. 

But her body moved on its own as she excused herself from the table and her feet followed Atsushi’s path outside the restaurant.

Chapter Text

Outside, the air was cooler—the night brushing soft against Ren’s skin. Tokyo lights glowed from across the street illuminating the area in soft hues of gold.

She found Atsushi leaning against the railing beside the restaurant, hands shoved deep into his pockets, gaze unfocused but tight.

She approached slowly. “You okay?”

“...Fine,” he muttered.

She frowned. “You sure? You’ve barely said two words since the game ended.”

He didn’t look at her. “Just tired.”

Ren crossed her arms, staring at him. “Right. Tired.”

Silence stretched, filled only by the faint hum of traffic. He still wouldn’t meet her eyes.

Ren sighed, stepping closer. “You were… proud of me earlier,” she said softly. “I saw it.”

That got him to blink, glance her way—almost startled.

“You were smiling,” she continued. “And then suddenly you looked like someone kicked your puppy or something. What happened?”

His gaze flicked away again, the muscles flexing in his jaw as it tightened. “...Nothing.”

She tilted her head. “You’re a bad liar, Murasakibara.”

He finally exhaled—slow, sharp, irritated. “You don’t get it.”

“Then make me get it!” Her voice rose a little. “You’ve been quiet all night. You look mad at me. If I did something, just tell me. Talk to me!”

Atsushi blinked, almost looking shocked by her frustration. He glanced back down, still avoiding her eye contact and didn’t say anything.

She crossed her arms. “Come on, what’s your deal?”

Atsushi sighed, looking away. “I don’t have one.”

“Bullshit,” she snapped. “You just said—”

“Ren-chin—”

“Don’t Ren-chin me right now!” she said, stepping closer in front of him so he had nowhere else to look but her. 

Her pulse was racing, but she didn’t care. “Something’s wrong you just—shut off. Why?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, gaze sliding away. “...I’m fine, okay?”

“Atsushi.” Her tone softened, but her eyes didn’t waver. “If you were fine, you wouldn’t look at me like that.”

That made him freeze—just for a second.

“Like what?”

“Like I did something wrong,” she said. “Like I don’t even know what I did, and you’re punishing me for it.”

The words hit something deep, because his jaw flexed again. “I’m not—”

“Yes, you are!” she cut in, voice rising. “You’ve been acting weird all night! I was so excited to talk to you about the game, to tell you how it felt to play again, how the team actually worked, but you just—shut me out!” Her hands balled into fists. “You were the only person I wanted to talk to about it, Atsushi. And you wouldn’t even look at me.”

That seemed to strike him harder than she expected. 

His gaze dropped, voice low. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true.”

He exhaled, sharp and frustrated. 

“Because it makes me feel—” 

He stopped.

Ren’s heartbeat stuttered. “Makes you feel what?”

His head lifted—eyes half-lidded, but his voice cracked slightly when he said, “...Like an idiot.”

“Why?”

“Because you don’t get it!” His voice finally rose, breaking through that lazy calm he always hid behind. “You stand out without even trying. Everyone looks at you, and I can’t—” He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “I can’t stop watching, either.”

Ren stared at him, chest tight. “Are you… jealous?”

He looked away, barely muttering, “Maybe I am.”

That should’ve been the end of it—but something in her snapped too. “Then why are you mad at me for that? You’re the one who decided to act like I don’t exist all night!”

“I wasn’t mad at you,” he said through clenched teeth. “I was mad at them.”

“Them?” she repeated incredulously. “Atsushi, they’re my teammates, my—”

“I don’t care,” he cut in, stepping closer, voice rising. “They don’t get to look at you like that. Every time they talk to you, you light up,” he went on, his height casting her in shadow. “You get all nervous and cute and flustered, and I… hate it.” His hand clenched at his side. “Because… because it’s not me doing that to you.”

“Oh my god,” she groaned, throwing her hands up. “You’re unbelievable! You’re jealous over nothing! They’re my friends!”

“I know that!”

“Then why are you acting like a jerk!?”

“Because I—!” he started, then faltered, chest heaving. His voice dropped low, rough. “Because I don’t want you to leave me.”

That stopped her cold.

He went on, quieter now, as if he’d been holding it in too long. “You keep talking about Seirin. About their team. About this chance you might take. And I get it—this is your dream. But every time you talk about it, I just… I feel like you’re already gone.”

Her throat tightened. “Atsushi…”

“And I don’t know how to say it without sounding stupid,” he muttered, gaze flicking away. “So yeah, I get mad. I act like an ass. Because I don’t want to think about you not being around anymore.”

She stared at him, heart aching—torn between anger and something else entirely. “You’re such an idiot,” she whispered. “You think I want to leave you?”

He looked at her, surprised.

“You’re the only one I don’t want to leave,” she said, voice cracking. “And you’re too busy sulking to even realize that!”

The air between them was hot. Sharp. Alive.

Everything that remained unspoken between them had just been laid out in a whirlwind of emotions. 

He took a step forward, eyes dark. “Don’t say things like that, Ren-chin.”

“Why not?” she demanded. “It’s true—”

But before she could finish, his hand caught her wrist, tugging her just enough that she stumbled into him. 

Ren gasped, instantly feeling a fire spread throughout her at his touch. The charged space between them no longer existed—their bodies were pressed against each other, Atsushi’s warmth encapsulating her like a blanket.

His head dipped low, strands of violet tickling her cheek, deep voice brushing against her ear like a caress. 

“Because then I’ll do something I can’t take back.”

Her breath hitched, a shiver running down her spine. “Like… what—?”

He didn’t answer. He just moved. Hard. Certain. 

One large hand slid secure around her waist, the other catching the back of her neck—firm, unyielding. His long fingers weaved through her hair at the base of her neck, thumb pressed on her jaw, using it to help tip her head back.

Ren stopped breathing, unable to speak, think, or even move. She was paralyzed by the intensity of him and her heart beat, almost seemingly synchronizing with him. 

Yet, she found her body again moving on its own, leaning into his touch, into his embrace.

He tilted his head down just slightly—their foreheads brushed, the warmth of his breath fanning across her lips. 

For a heartbeat, neither of them moved. The entire world around them still. 

And nothing mattered but here, the now, this moment.

Then—

His mouth met hers in a rush of heat and frustration, the kiss tasting of everything they hadn’t said and couldn’t stop feeling. It wasn’t gentle or tentative—it was the crash of every argument, every almost-confession, every heartbeat they’d swallowed. The kiss was rough, desperate, messy, a collision more than a touch. 

For a heartbeat, Ren froze, eyes wide, a gasp escaping from her but swallowed by Atsushi’s mouth. 

And then—she utterly melted into him. 

Her fingers gripped his hoodie, pulling him closer as if gravity itself demanded it. For the first time, he wasn’t holding back. And Ren let herself unravel at that fact. 

She felt the tremor in his fingers where they pressed into her side, the shiver that ran through her when she answered him, her own body needing him just as much as he needed her.

The city around them faded. There was only the sound of their breathing, the quick uneven thud of her heart, and them. 

He angled closer, the kiss deepening, growing slower, fiercer. His thumb traced the line of her jaw, grounding her, until she was dizzy from it—dizzy from him. The touch made an involuntary moan slip from her, muffled against Atsushi’s lips.

When he deepened the kiss, there were no hints of caution anymore. It was just raw, aching, and starved—like all the words they couldn’t say after all this time had finally found a voice.

Ren’s fingers stayed clutched at his hoodie, but it wasn’t enough. She wanted him closer—needed him closer. 

Her body moved again before her mind could think, rising onto the tips of her toes, her arms hooking around his neck. Her hands slid up, tangling into his violet hair, and she felt him shudder beneath her touch.

That was all it took. The last bit of his control snapped. 

He drew her in with both hands now, the one cupping her jaw remained secure as the other that was around her waist moved, sliding behind her neck, both thumbs now brushing her flushed skin. 

The kiss deepened again—messy, hungry, almost disbelieving. The kind of kiss that felt like a confession and an argument all at once. It was all heat and motion and the sound of their lips fighting for dominance, until she could taste the remnants of his frustration turning to something sharper, something that terrified them both. 

Ren was high off of this feeling, off of him and the way he was making her entire being feel like it was meant to be entangled with him for this very moment.

Her legs were shaking now, from both the struggle of staying on her toes to reach him and from the pure and primal need for more of him.

As their kiss only continued to grow in intensity, he shifted as if to lift her, to pull her impossibly closer—and that’s when the sound hit them.

“Hey! There you guys are!”

Ren broke away quicker than any sprint, breathless, wide-eyed. 

Himuro’s voice carried from the corner, and her hands slipped from Atsushi’s hair as if burned.

He froze too, chest still rising fast, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his swollen lips despite his flushed face.

Yuki’s voice called, “Yo, come on guys we’re heading out—oh! Oh.”

Ren and Atsushi remained motionless, still too close.

Yuki blinked, then slowly smirked. “...Did I… interrupt something?”

Atsushi sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. He didn’t even flinch—just straightened slowly, gaze still locked on her like he hadn’t quite returned to himself.

 “... Yeah.” He murmured, voice low, still rough. He stepped back just enough to let Ren breathe, eyes flicking to her lips one last time. 

Ren’s face flamed crimson, even more than it already was. 

“What?! —No!” She blurted, stepping back so fast she nearly tripped on the curb. “You didn’t interrupt anything—!”

“Sure,” Yuki said, smirking wider. “Whatever you say.”

“Oi! You two coming or what?” Himuro’s voice cut through the night, as Yuki jogged back to the group of Yosen boys, snickering.

“We—uh—yes, we’re coming!” She called, voice an octave too high, ears still burning hot, lips raw.

They fell into step again, silent, the world around them suddenly too loud. Their shoulders brushed once, accidentally. Neither of them moved away.

Atsushi just sighed, shoving his hands into his pockets, his voice flat but softer than usual. “...You’re loud when you’re mad, you know that?”

Ren glared, still flushed and flustered. “You’re impossible.”

He looked down at her, a faint smirk gliding across his lips. “You like that about me.”

She had no comeback for that.

Chapter Text

The train hissed to a stop in Akita well past two in the morning. 

The platform was nearly empty, washed in the pale blue light of flickering lamps. A sharp wind blew in from the north, biting and clean—the kind that made the air smell like snow even in spring.

Ren yawned as she stepped off, stretching her sore legs. Her body buzzed from adrenaline and exhaustion, her mind still replaying the scrimmage over and over—the cheers, the rhythm of the game, and the flash of pride on Atsushi’s face.

While her body reminisced the game… her heart and mind were still replaying the moment she and Atsushi shared outside the restaurant.

The feeling of his large hands roaming her body, the desperation from both of them pouring into the heat of their kiss, her lips left raw and swollen, yearning for more of him. 

It was consuming, and she had no defense or logic against day dreaming about it since she was so tired.

The rest of the team shuffled off behind her, laughing sleepily. Kenji was still teasing Yuki about falling asleep halfway through the train ride. Yuki was ignoring him and was half-dazed talking about the girls on Ren’s team that he was now ‘in love’ with to Himuro. Even Atsushi was quiet, his hood up, hands shoved deep in his pockets.

When they reached the exit, everyone began parting ways with lazy waves.

“Night, Ren-chan! You killed it out there today!” Yuki called, his voice echoing down the quiet street.

“Get some rest,” Himuro added with a warm but tired smile.

“Thanks for coming and for the support guys. See you later,” she replied, tucking her hands into her jacket.

She turned to walk home—only to hear footsteps behind her. Slow, steady, unhurried.

Ren looked back. “...Atsushi?”

He blinked, as if caught off guard by her voice. “Hm?”

“What are you doing?”

He shrugged. “Walking.”

“To… my place?”

A faint, almost imperceptible pause. “...Maybe.”

She blinked, torn between a laugh and a sigh. “You’re ridiculous.”

He didn’t answer, but his long strides easily matched hers as they started down the dimly lit street. 

The streets were quiet now, slick with the faint shimmer of mist. The late hour pressed in around them—neon lights reflecting off puddles, the air smelling faintly of rain and exhaust. 

Their breaths clouded faintly in the night air. For a while, neither of them spoke. The city half-asleep around them.

Finally, Ren said softly, “You didn’t have to walk me home, you know.”

“I know. I wanted to.”

The simple honesty in his voice caught her off guard. She looked up at him under her tired lids, at the way his hood shadowed his face, but his eyes glinted faintly under the lamplight.

“...Thank you,” she murmured, heat rising in her cheeks.

He gave a slow nod, like he didn’t trust his voice enough to answer. That or he was just as tired as she was.

As time passed, Ren’s steps had gotten noticeably slower the longer they walked. Her exhaustion was beginning to take a toll and her knee throbbed with every uneven patch of pavement, but she kept her head down, pretending it didn’t.

She didn’t even realize she was limping until Atsushi spoke.

“Your knee,” he said, voice low, not even looking at her. “It’s hurting huh.”

She blinked, startled and caught off guard. “It’s fine, just sore. I was gonna ice it when I got home—”

Before she could finish, she felt the world tilt.

Her breath caught in her throat as he swooped her up— literally—one arm hooking behind her knees, the other hand shoving into his hoodie pocket as if this were the most normal and effortless thing in the world. 

“Atsu—!” Ren gasped, the word catching in her throat. She stammered, eyes wide. “What—what are you—!?”

He didn’t even glance down at her. “You’re slow.”

She gaped, her face turning red instantly . “That’s not— that’s not an excuse to—!”

Her words trailed off as the rhythm of his steps steadied beneath her, grounding her. She was too tired to try and argue with him right now.

The city lights moved past in lazy streaks, and her hands instinctively gripped the fabric at his neck to keep herself steady. She could feel the comforting warmth of his skin through the collar of his hoodie, his scent clean and faintly sweet, like rain and sugar.

“... Put me down,” she muttered weakly, barely even meaning it if she was being honest.

“No.”

Her heartbeat was doing something it really shouldn’t. “You’re impossible.”

“Mm,” he hummed lazily, his warm breath brushing her temple. “You say that a lot.”

She sighed, finally letting herself relax against him. Her arms slipped around his neck more securely, her cheek finding the space between his shoulder and jaw. The solid thrum of his heartbeat filled her ears, sending waves of electricity through her body.

“...Thank you,” she murmured after a while, so soft she wasn’t even sure he’d heard.

He did. 

His gaze flicked toward her, just for a second. “For what?”

“... For noticing,” she said against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut in contentment. “You always do.”

Something flickered in his expression— brief, unreadable —but his arm tightened slightly around her, a subtle pull that made her heart ache in the best way. 

A small smile tugged at the corner of her lips as she nuzzled closer into the crook of his neck.

Neither said anything more. 

By the time they reached her apartment building, she was half-asleep against him, the exhaustion of the day finally dragging her down. 

She had given into him, into the help and support she normally never let herself ask for. It was nice.  

Ren would never outwardly admit it… but she wanted to stay in his arms like this, forever. Where it was warm and safe. 

“Hey,” Atsushi spoke softly, carefully considering her drowsy state. “We’re here, Ren-chin.”

Ren rubbed at her tired and heavy eyes, a yawn escaping from her. 

He shifted her carefully back onto her feet in front of her door, his usual lazy composure back in place. 

The cold air came rushing back to Ren, sharpening her tired senses, the sudden lack of his body heat making her sadder than it should.

“You should rest,” he said quietly.

She nodded, fumbling for her keys. “You should too. It’s… late, I’m sorry.”

He lingered a moment too long, eyes flicking from her face down to her knee brace. “... Wanted to make sure you got home safe.”

Her chest tightened. “You didn’t have to—”

“I know.” His voice was softer than usual. “But I wanted to.”

Time seemed to slow, every small detail magnified between them. The chill in the wind brushing their hair, the flush of both of their cheeks, the heat of their bodies swirling around in the space between them.

He turned to leave, so… slowly, like his feet were glued to the pavement, like—he didn’t want to leave. 

And before she could think twice, before she could even think at all, her fingers caught his sleeve, keeping him in place.

He stopped.

The wind stopped.

The world stopped.

Her pulse hammered in her ears as her hand gripped onto his sleeve—small, trembling, unsure. 

The air between them thickened, so much that a knife could cut the tension.

His gaze flicked down to where her fingers gripped his hoodie, then up to her face.

Ren’s breath caught. She didn’t even know what she was doing—only that the thought of him leaving right now made something twist painfully in her chest.

And then he stepped closer towards her—slow, deliberate, like gravity had decided for him—his hand finding her jaw, warm thumb brushing her cheek, flushed from the night air.

And then—he kissed her, and the world fell away.

It was gentle this time—like Ren was a fragile thing in his hands that he didn’t dare break. His breath was warm as it fanned over her face, his lips soft as they crashed onto hers.

Ren couldn’t help it, but she smiled as he kissed her, their teeth clacking against each other ever so slightly as she did.

And that switched something in Atsushi, something he was holding back.

The kiss turned hungry, desperate—like everything unfinished between them and their last moment had finally broken loose. 

She gasped against his mouth, hands curling into the fabric of his hoodie before sliding up, around his neck, needing him like she needed air to breathe. 

He exhaled sharply when her fingers tangled in his hair and then deepened the kiss, his other hand finding her waist, pulling her flush and secure against him.

Ren rose on her toes, her breath catching as he tilted his head, their mouths fitting perfectly, messily, like they’d been waiting too long for this since they were interrupted last time. 

Her heartbeat roared in her ears, and when he broke the kiss just enough to breathe—she didn’t think, just reacted and anchored him in place, pulling him back down to her, crashing his lips back onto hers.

Atsushi groaned against her lips, his composure shattering at Ren’s boldness. He kissed her even deeper, hands at her waist sliding down and firmly grasping her ass, lifting her with ease. 

Ren gasped again, her core igniting in fire from the action. Atsushi took that opportunity to deepen the kiss again, regaining the control their lips were fighting for. It was messy, but desperate, like neither of them had enough air but didn’t care.

In this new position, Ren tightened her arms around his neck, pulling herself impossibly closer to him. 

No longer struggling to meet his towering height, she entangled her fingers in his violet hair, playing with the strands and occasionally tugging at them.

That earned a reaction she was looking for.

She felt Atsushi’s entire body shudder as she pulled gently at his hair and smirked against his lips. His large hands gripped harder onto her thighs as he groaned, low and guttural.

Ren’s chest was tight with everything she couldn’t say, her core fluttering from every feeling that was so intense, she felt like she might implode. 

She felt dizzy, weightless—almost euphoric off of him, like he was some damn drug she was addicted to.

When they finally broke apart, breaths hot and ragged, their foreheads rested together.

“...You,” he murmured between hard breaths, his voice low and rough, “make it really hard to leave.”

Ren swallowed hard, trying to catch her breath, fingers still curled in his hair. “Then don’t.”

He blinked, eyes wide for a second, cheeks flushed, and then a slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth—small, but real.

He brushed his thumb across her crimson cheek, one large hand still effortlessly supporting her weight. His voice was barely a whisper. “Yeah?”

She nodded, her heart pounding too fast to think straight. “Yeah.”

He exhaled, something unspoken darkening in his expression. Then he leaned in again, slower this time—gentler, but no less certain. 

Ren matched his intensity, slamming her lips back onto his as both of his hands returned to her thighs, securing her frame in his hold. Her legs wrapped around his torso instinctively, needing more of him, needing him closer.

And then in one long stride, Atsushi entered her apartment with Ren secure in his arms, kicking the door shut in one swift motion behind them.

Chapter Text

The door shut with a quiet thud, muffling the hum of the city outside.

Ren’s back met the wall first, her breath hitching as Atsushi’s mouth found hers again. The world narrowed to the weight of him—the soft scrape of his hoodie against her fingertips, the faint taste of sugar and mint on his lips, the heat that made her knees weaken.

It wasn’t frantic this time, but it wasn’t gentle either.

It was real.

Slow and burning and dizzying—like he had all the time in the world to memorize her.

Her hands trembled as they slid up his chest, gripping at the fabric near his collarbone. She could feel his heartbeat through the cotton, steady but hard, and for a moment, she thought she’d melt right into it.

Atsushi drew back just long enough to breathe, his forehead pressed against hers. “You drive me crazy.”

The words were quiet, almost a whisper, but the heat behind them sent a shiver through her.

She wanted to say something— anything —but all that came out was a faint and breathless, “You started it.”

That made him smirk, the corner of his mouth curling as he kissed her again. His large hands gripped her thighs tighter, fingers stretching towards her ass, thumbs brushing slow circles against the thin fabric of her leggings. Every touch was careful—hesitant even—like he was afraid she’d vanish if he pushed too far.

But she didn’t pull away. She leaned in.

Atsushi continued to hold her up, never breaking their kiss, while Ren's hands moved to cup his face, her fingers tracing the sharp lines of his cheekbones and jawline, feeling the soft texture of his skin. Her thumb gently caressed his bottom lip, and she felt him shiver against her at her touch.

She smiled against his lips, and he responded by deepening the kiss, their tongues entangled in a passionate dance.

Ren’s hands slid down his shoulders to the hem of his hoodie, tugging it up slightly, her knuckles brushing against the bare skin of his hips. He groaned softly at the sensation, his grip tightening on her thighs in response. That sound alone sent a wave of satisfaction through her.

“You,” Atsushi murmured against her lips, his voice barely audible, “Are… so…” 

He trailed off, his grip moving from her thighs to her waist, hands sliding under her shirt, his fingers tracing the lines of her spine, sending shivers through her body. The touch was electric, sending a jolt of heat straight to her core.

She involuntarily arched against him, gasping as he shifted her higher against the wall. “Atsushi—” Her voice was a breathless whisper, “Oh my god—”

He groaned, low and desperate, the sound vibrating through her. Then his lips left hers, trailing down her jaw to her neck, teeth grazing skin. 

Ren shuddered, barely able to contain the noises she was making. Her hands gripped his shoulders in an attempt to keep her steady, but he was already there—hands firm back on her hips, mouth hot against her throat.

“You’re…” His voice was rough, like the words were being dragged out of him. 

She arched again, her body aching for him to be closer, fingers twisting in his hoodie. 

“I’m what?” she breathed, hips rolling against his.

He growled, the sound raw and possessive. His hands tightened on her hips, pulling her harder against him until she could feel the outline of him through his joggers. She stopped breathing.

“You’re killing me, Ren,” he muttered against her neck, the words muffled but unmistakable. 

She felt his teeth scrape her skin, his tongue soothing the sting an instant later. His hands were everywhere now—her thighs, her waist, her back—like he couldn’t physically get enough of her. 

Ren couldn’t suppress a whimper as his mouth found the curve of her shoulder, his teeth marking her in a way that sent shivers down her spine. His touch was so deliberate—calculated—like he knew exactly how to unravel her.

And after all the time and months they had spent with each other—he did.

She was breathless, trembling against him, her fingers clutching his hoodie like a lifeline. “Atsushi,” she gasped, her voice barely audible. “I want—”

He drew back just enough to look at her, his violet eyes dark with a hunger that made her ache.

“You want what?” The question was a challenge, his voice rough with restraint.

Her heart hammered against her ribs, every nerve alight. 

“... You,” she whispered, the word a confession meeting his provocation.

Something flashed in his expression, a mix of triumph and raw want. 

Before she could take another breath, his mouth was on hers again—hard, demanding, stealing what little air she had left. His hands slid from her hips to her ass, lifting her effortlessly as he carried her away from the wall.

Ren clung to him, arms around his neck, legs tightening around his waist as he moved. 

She had no idea where he was taking her, and she didn’t care. All that mattered was the heat of him, the solid strength of his body against hers, the way his lips consumed her like he’d been starving for them all his life.

Ren could feel the tension in him building—something possessive and dark that made her heart race faster. 

His grip on her tightened, one arm easily securing her against him, the other hand braced against…

The couch.

In one fluid motion, he sat down, never breaking the kiss, and Ren found herself straddling his lap, his large hands firm on her hips. 

The new position sent a shockwave of heat through her, and she couldn’t stop the small sound that escaped her throat as she felt him right against her core.

Atsushi growled, low and primal, the sound reverberating through her. His teeth caught her lower lip, pulling just enough to sting before his tongue soothed the ache. 

Ren gasped, her hips rolling without her permission, seeking relief from the growing pressure between her legs. She squeezed her eyes shut, embarrassed at the fact that he was definitely feeling the throb of her center against him.

He broke the kiss with a sudden sharp inhale, his forehead resting against hers. His breathing was heavy, matching her own. 

“Ren,” he rasped, his voice a desperate whisper. “Tell me… tell me you’re mine.”

The words hung between them, charged with a vulnerability that made her chest ache. 

She could see it in his eyes—fear, need, and an intensity that took her breath away. This wasn’t just a kiss, an attraction. This was something deeper, something that scared her almost as much as it thrilled her.

And she couldn’t lie, because the truth was—she had been his for a while now.

“I am,” she breathed, the words a promise—an actualization. “I’m yours, Atsushi.”

Something in his expression shifted—a relief so profound it made her heart squeeze. 

His large hands framed her face, thumbs brushing her cheeks as he pulled her back to him. This kiss was different. It was tender, almost reverent, like she was something precious he’d been afraid to lose.

Ren felt a lump form in her throat. 

No one had ever kissed her like this before—like she was the only thing in the world that mattered. In this moment, she realized that she really was something he was afraid to lose, it wasn’t just some idea.

She kissed him back with equal intensity, pouring everything she couldn’t say into the caress of her lips against his.

Atsushi’s hands slid down from her face to her neck, his thumbs delicately tracing the line of her throat before moving lower.

Ren’s breath hitched as he continued to explore, his touch leaving a trail of fire wherever he went. 

His mouth found hers again, hungrier now, needier, like her reciprocation had unleashed something in him. Ren responded in kind, her own need surging to the surface as she kissed him back.

Atsushi’s fingers danced along the hem of her shirt, teasing the sensitive skin just above her leggings waistband. Ren’s heart was pounding now, her body responding to him in ways she couldn’t control. 

She wanted him—needed him—more than she’d ever needed anyone.

She felt him smile against her lips, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “You’re shaking, Ren-chin.”

His voice was husky, thick with desire, and it sent a fresh wave of heat through her. 

Ren couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped her, her hips pressing closer to his of their own accord.

“Mm, you like that?” He continued to tease, his fingers slipping under her shirt, splaying across the bare skin of her back. 

Ren arched into his touch, her body craving more. She needed him closer, needed to feel every inch of him against her.

Atsushi obliged, one hand sliding up her spine to the nape of her neck while the other remained firm on her hip, guiding her movements. “You’re so sensitive,” he murmured, his breath hot against her ear.  

Atsushi trailed kisses down her neck, pausing at the base where her pulse fluttered rapidly.

“Here,” he added, tongue darting out to taste her skin. Ren gasped, fingers clutching at his shoulders.

His mouth continued its exploration, moving back up to her earlobe, teeth nipping gently before soothing the ache with his tongue, “And here.”

“So sweet,” he groaned, the possessive edge to his voice sending another shiver through Ren. “Mm… you’re all mine.”

The words ignited a fire in Ren’s veins. 

She felt bold, empowered by his touch and his words. She pushed herself upright, straddling him fully now, her hands sliding from his shoulders to the bottom of his hoodie.

“I’m yours,” she agreed, voice steady despite the tremor that ran through her. Her fingers caught the fabric, tugging it upwards with deliberate slowness. “But you’re mine too, Atsushi.”

His eyes met hers, violet darkening to near black with desire. 

“Yeah,” he breathed, the single syllable loaded with meaning. With his help, Ren pulled his hoodie off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor. 

She took a moment to appreciate the view—broad shoulders, defined biceps, and a large chest that tapered to lean hips. Her hands smoothed over his skin, utterly reveling in the heat and hardness of his body.

She couldn’t help but think how nice his muscles looked in the dark, under the moonlight shining through her apartment window. 

Atsushi watched her, letting her explore him, a mix of patience and barely restrained need in his gaze. When her fingers intricately traced the cut lines of his lower abs, he caught her wrists, pulling her hands back up.

“Okay, your turn,” he smirked, voice low and roughly feline.

A/N: Hi everyone, I am curious and am wondering what level of smut everyone is good with for this story! Before I continue with the next chapter, I am just looking to hear your guys thoughts and opinions! I respect everyone's feedback so, as I am totally ready to write some real good smut, I will also understand if that doesn't fit the story. Thanks for anyone that comments! :)    (Oh also, this fic is also posted on Wattpad and they just added a new poll feature, so if you dont want to comment, you can use the poll on Wattpad to vote! Tysm!)

Chapter Text

(TW: Mild Smut)

His fingers found the hem of her shirt, hesitating just long enough for her to nod before he lifted it over her head.

The cool air brushed against her exposed skin, sending goosebumps across her flesh.

Atsushi’s gaze roamed over her, a low exhale escaping him. “Beautiful,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

Ren felt a blush warm her cheeks, but she didn’t shy away from his scrutiny. Instead, she arched slightly, letting him look his fill. His large hands followed the path of his eyes, tracing the curves of her body, thumbs brushing over her heated skin. 

She felt entranced by him, by this very moment, as she watched him. So slowly, he took in every inch of her body, like he was committing every detail to memory. 

This was the most focused she had ever seen him, it left her frozen and awestruck. His violet stare harshly concentrating on every goosebump, every curve, every line that made Ren, her.

“So… perfect,” he murmured, voice full of wonder, his eyes locked onto her body.

Ren’s heart swelled at his words, at the reverence in his tone. No one had ever looked at her the way Atsushi was looking at her now, like she was everything he’d ever wanted.

His hands skimmed back down her sides, brushing against her bra, leaving a trail of fire upon her skin as they found the waistband of her leggings. Then his gaze met hers, a question glinting off his eyes, a silent request for permission.

Eyes never leaving each other’s, Ren nodded, lifting her hips to help him slowly slide the leggings down her legs. 

She was left in just her bra and panties now, the cool air washing over her flushed skin. But she wasn’t cold, not with Atsushi’s mesmerized eyes on her and his warm body pressing her close.

His hands returned to her hips, thumbs tracing the edges of her panties. His gaze flicked back down, taking in the entirety of her and her bareness.

“You… ,” he mumbled softly, voice laced with satisfaction, “... might be my favorite snack.” His lips tugged into a feline smirk.

Ren couldn’t help but giggle at that, the sound turning into a soft moan when he pressed his thumbs firmer on her hips. 

She found her hands sliding down his chest, wanting to explore the hard planes of his muscles and his body as well. She wanted to touch him everywhere too, to make him feel as good as he was making her feel. But when she reached across his lower abs, delicately tracing the lines leading under the waistband of his joggers, Atsushi caught her wrists, bringing them to his lips instead.

Ren was left shocked as Atsushi left lingering tiny kisses upon the inside of her wrist.

And then— 

Atsushi pulled back, lifting Ren off of him with surprising ease. She made a sound of protest, reaching for him, but he just smirked and laid her back onto the couch.

He settled between her legs, his broad shoulders blocking out the rest of the world. The weight of him, the heat of his skin against hers—it was everything she’d craved for so long.

Atsushi pressed a soft kiss to her collarbone, then her sternum, working his way down her body with deliberate  and agonizing slowness. His hands framed her waist, thumbs tracing swirls on her skin. Every touch was kindle to the fire that was her body.

When his mouth reached her navel, he swirled the tip of his tongue around it, the sensation making her giggle and gasp at the same time. Atsushi looked up at her, violet eyes glinting with amusement and something hotter, more possessive.

“Ticklish?” he teased, his breath warm against her skin.

Ren nodded, unable to form words past the sensations overwhelming her. Atsushi took his time, exploring every inch of her, learning what made her gasp, what made her arch, what made her whimper.

By the time his mouth reached the edge of her hips, Ren was a trembling mess of need and desire. 

He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her hip bone. Then he moved to the other, giving it the same attention.  

But before he could continue, Ren let out a small yelp.

A sharp pain shot up her leg as she tried to lift her knee, a grimace etched across her face.

Atsushi’s head shot up at her cry of pain, a look of shocked alarm flashing across his features.

“Y’okay?” His voice was low, concern lacing through every syllable.

Ren winced, nodding as she tried to shift her leg into a more comfortable position. “Yeah, I’m fine… just—”

But he was already pulling back, eyes scanning her leg like he could see through it. 

Without another word, he guided her to sit back up on the couch, his hands firm but careful on her. His large hands were gentle as they helped her straighten her injured leg. His touch was careful, almost clinical, a sharp contrast to what his hands were just doing to her.

Ren bit her lip, feeling a bit embarrassed and guilty for ruining the moment and tried to ignore the throbbing in her knee. “I-I’m fine. It’s just my knee.” 

She tried to sit up, but Atsushi gently pushed her back down, his hand firm but gentle on her shoulder.

“Sit,” he instructed, his tone allowing no argument, leaving Ren stunned and wide eyed. 

Ren nodded, still feeling a little daze from their earlier activities.

Atsushi stood up, grabbing his t-shirt they had discarded earlier and slipped it over Ren’s head in one fluid motion. He helped her thread her arms through the sleeves and then pulled the soft fabric down over her chest.

“Don’t move,” he murmured, then disappeared into her kitchen.

She nodded, her cheeks flushing at his commanding tone as she tried to calm her racing heart. 

Ren blinked after him, still trying to remember how to breathe. The warmth of his hands still lingered on her now covered skin. She couldn’t help but watch him, her gaze tracing the lines of his muscled back as he walked towards the kitchen. 

She heard the freezer door open, the clink of ice. When he came back, he had a towel-wrapped ice pack in hand—and a look that made her chest ache.

His face was still a little flushed, a few strands of lavender hair sticking to his forehead. His bare chest rose and fell with each breath, and Ren had to fight the urge to reach out and touch him.

Her gaze drifted lower, taking in the way his joggers hung low on his hips, the sharp cut of his hipbones visible above the waistband. Ren bit her lip, trying to focus on calming her heart rate.

He sat back down on the couch beside her, gently lifting her leg and settling it across his lap.

Ren tried to hide her flustered look, but the pink tinge in her cheeks probably gave it away. Atsushi could always point out her blushes he causes from miles away, it was infuriating.

He pressed the ice pack to her knee, holding it in place with one large hand. With his other hand, he began to carefully massage her calf, working out the tension in her muscles.

“Thanks,” she murmured, feeling a little embarrassed by the whole situation.

“Mm,” he hummed, eyes focused on her leg. “Does this hurt?”

Ren shook her head, trying to reassure him. “It’s okay. Just a little sore.”

Atsushi looked unconvinced, his brow furrowing as he continued his examination. His fingers traced the outline of her knee, feeling for any swelling or tenderness. 

Ren fought the urge to squirm under his touch, acutely aware of her current state of undress. She felt a little exposed, despite Atsushi’s shirt drowning her body. It was hard to meet his gaze, but she forced herself to do it.

“You should’ve said something.”

“Uh, I was… a little distracted,” She admitted, voice small.

Atsushi’s lips twitched—not quite a smile, not quite not. But there was definitely a quick glance of amusement in his expression.

“Terrible excuse, Ren-chin.”

Ren took mock offense to that, sitting up to look at him head on. “Hey, you started it.”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, looking genuinely surprised at her playfully argumentative response. 

“Did I?” His voice returned to that unreadable, nonchalant tone that he was so good at. But his hands remained gentle on her leg, his gaze focused on her knee.

Ren felt her blush deepen, but she refused to back down. 

She folded her arms across her chest, trying to look stern. “Um you definitely did. You were the one who—” She stopped abruptly, realizing where this conversation was headed.

Atsushi looked at her with his unreadable expression, one eyebrow still raised in challenge. “I did… what exactly?”

Ren huffed, looking away from him. She could feel the heat radiating from her cheeks.

“Tch, you know what you did,” she muttered, refusing to meet his gaze.

He chuckled softly, the sound warm and rich. 

Ren glanced at him, surprised by the teasing glint in his eyes. He was grinning now, a lazy smirk playing on his lips.

“Ass,” she muttered, trying not to smile back at him.

His smirk widened. “Hey, that’s not very nice Ren-chin.” 

His hands never stopped their gentle massage, even as he teased her.

“Neither is leaving a girl hanging,” she shot back, trying to sound stern but unable to hide the amusement in her voice.

Atsushi laughed then, a genuine laugh that made his eyes crinkle at the corners. “Fair enough.”