On the way to the faculty office, Ai tries to brighten the somber mood by telling him the most terrifying knock-knock jokes in her signature deadpan tone. She has only half of his attention, because he has used the other half worrying about what Takeuchi might want to have a 'talk' with him. He is still convinced it's his grades, and he lets Ai know this is so.

"I've recovered from last year, right, Ai-tan?" he asks, absentmindedly wringing his hands. "Heck, I'm even in the same college prep class as you, doesn't that mean something? I've upped my grades, didn't I?"

Ai bites her lip, clasping her hands behind her back. "I don't know, Ryou, I mean…the only subject you've passed the past two terms was English. And it was just barely…"

"Really? Have I done that badly? Where did I mess up?"

"I'm kidding!"

Ryouta issues a dramatic sigh. "I have to thank you, Ai-tan, for being ever so willing to carry half of the burden I lug around. And I've got the universe to thank, too, for bestowing upon me such a loyal, supportive, and helpful friend."

"I'm glad you love the universe's gift for you." Ai gives him a mischievous grin. It's rare, and, for a second, it takes him aback. Does he have to be a bundle of nerves just to see her smile like that?

"I don't know what to expect," Ryouta says as they arrive at the fourth floor. "Is he going to kick me off the team? I don't recall having done anything wrong…"

Ai rolls her eyes at him. "You're Kise Ryouta. You're a disaster unto anyone but yourself—and yet, your team has kept you around. I don't see why that's going to stop anytime soon. Just relax, dumbo."

From dumbass to dumbo. What an improvement.

They're nearing the faculty office. Ryouta mutters, "I still think it's the grades."

Ai tells one parting joke, this time it isn't a knock knock. "Okay, this is the best one I googled, so shut your whining. What does the pianist say to a tightrope walker?"

Ryouta doesn't reply, so she pinches his arm. "What?"

"You better C sharp or you'll B flat."

"Oh, god." He drags a hand over his face. "You are the worst, Ai-tan."

She rocks on her heels, looking smug and invincible. "Do you want to me to wait for you here or…?"

"I'll swing by the music room to come get you, okay?"

"Great." Ai nods. Just when he is about to enter, Ryouta feels a tug at his sleeve. He turns to Ai one last time, and she says, "It won't be your grades."

Thankfully, the door has been left open, so he is saved from the embarrassment of having to knock. He maneuvers his way through the maze of desks, piles of notebooks, and potted plants, all the while his heart racing. It's not the grades, he repeats in his mind. It's not the grades. It's not the grades.

"Ah, Kise! Come here!" Takeuchi-sensei, whose camp is located by the window, beckons him over. Standing by the table he is sitting at is the basketball team's captain, Hayakawa Mitsuhiro. "Hayakawa has just told me of a new play he'd like for the team to try next week."

"Oh, new play?" Ryouta breathes out a sigh of relief. "Sure, that's what I'm here for, right? I'm all ears."

Hayakawa crosses his arms over his chest, proud. "It's ca(ll)ed the Pineapp(l)e P(l)ay."

"Pineapple Play?" Ryouta echoes, slowly nodding. "That's…cool, senpai."

"Wait 'ti(l) you see it fo(r) you(r)self, Kise!" He thrusts a dog-eared sheet of paper in to him. Ryouta's eyes skillfully peruse sets of formations. Hayakawa is a good leader and has a strong game sense, but Ryouta has never seen him devising impressive strategies such as these (though he can't see any nod to a pineapple in the play itself).

"These are amazing, senpai! I didn't know you were amazing at tactics!" He returns the paper to Hayakawa, stroking his chin. "They require a lot of footwork, though, and individual skill sets we currently don't have. How are we going to achieve this?"

It's not that the basketball team has met a power decline post Ryouta's first year—in fact, he's seen improvements in the matches they've played in—it's that Ryouta's losing teammates he can trust. And with Hayakawa graduating, who will steer the team in the right direction?

"You're not asking the right question, Kise," Takeuchi-sensei says, smiling knowingly. His finger taps on the paper Hayakawa has placed on the table. "How are you going to achieve this?"

Ryouta cocks his head to the side. "What do you mean, sensei?"

Hayakawa and Takeuchi-sensei exchange a glance.

"Did you not have a sing(l)e idea why you were ca(l)(l)ed in?" Hayakawa asks. "Didn't Kasamatsu tell you it would go down like this?"

"Hayakawa and I have agreed, Kise," Takeuchi-sensei continues, lacing his hands together under his chin, "that you are the ideal captain for next year's team."

All the color on Ryouta's face drains, and he stumbles on his words. "W-What? But I can't be the captain!"

"Why not?" Takeuchi-sensei asks. "You're a valuable player, and you've proven your worth, and I've watched your growth as both a player and as a person since you were a first year. You've formed a bond with your teammates the past two years and learned to honor teamwork above else. I don't think there's a fault in my decision."

"I'm the ace!" Ryouta reasons. "Aces can't be captains—that's the rule, right?"

Hayakawa smacks him upside the head. "You'(r)e sti(l)(l) hung up on that? To think I (r)ecommended you to the coach! You'(r)e disg(r)acing me, Kise! G(r)ow up and be happy about it!"

Throughout his fiery spiel, Hayakawa's lisp has strained through, making his words barely comprehensible. But being teammates with him for so long, Ryouta has become adept at understanding his language. Rubbing the back of his head, he stares at him. "You…recommended me?"

"We(l)(l) of cou(r)se I did!" Hayakawa haughtily says. "You're the only one pe(r)fect to take the job afte(r) me!"

"He's right, Kise," Takeuchi-sensei says. "Currently, you're the most familiar with the team dynamic and have the most potential."

"Currently?"

"And whether you want it or not," he continues, "you will be the new captain starting the spring term. I have high hopes for you to reach the bar your predecessors set for you."

Everything around Ryouta seems to be happening in a fast pace, and despite everything he is doing to keep up, Hayakawa and Takeuchi-sensei are still one page ahead of him. His mind barely registers each word that comes out of their lips—but one dread remains. Meekly, he says, "I can't be captain. I'm the ace. I'm not made to be like Kasamatsu-senpai or Hayakawa-senpai. There has to be someone else."

"The coach didn't ask for you(r) opinion, Kise!" Hayakawa scolds.

"My word is final," Takeuchi-sensei says, after clearing his throat. "When you walk out this room, I don't want you to think about wanting the position, or even resigning from the team. What I want you to do is think about how you're going to nail down Hayakawa's new play with your team."

For the first time in his life, Ryouta has never felt so unsure as in that moment.

Being a captain has never been Ryouta's goal. In fact, not once in the years he has been playing basketball, has he ever thought of making it a goal. He knows himself too well, and he knows that he will screw it up.

He thinks it's a talent—being the biggest person in a group, having a rational mind, commanding with a deep voice. Aren't talents supposed to be innate? He doesn't have an ounce of that, and it's too late to start pretending he does. You could ask him to do anything—from tightroping, spiking a volleyball, to playing the violin—and the odds of Ryouta not being able to do it would be slim. But leadership? No, it was another thing entirely. He wasn't designed to lead—he was designed to shine in the spotlight, unhindered with responsibilities.

It's not that he is spineless—far from it, actually. It's just that no fiber in his body has held even an inkling of desire to be the next captain. He's confident that the coach and Hayakawa have set him up to fail. And he doesn't want to see that disaster come true.

There has to be an option they're overlooking—his means of escape. They can't just drop the weight on him as easily and suddenly as that. He'd be damned if he left the team, so he'd rather die trying to find another way.

Music seeps through the cracks of the closed door of the music room. His hand around the doorknob, he closes his eyes and listens to Ai play. He stands there for a few seconds, dumbfounded. The style is silky and calm and earnest, very unlike Ai's usual. Is she playing Chopin?

Gingerly, he lets himself in. In the middle of the bare room is a sleek grand piano, and behind it sits Ai, her eyes shut in concentration. Ryouta studies her face for the rest of the piece. When she plays, he likes to imagine she has been transported somewhere else, and wherever that is, she makes him want to follow her. It must be beautiful there if she looks at peace, serene, almost as if she is sleeping. Her eyebrows are slanted, and her lips are set in a pout, occasionally pulled back by her teeth. She keeps her head low, her chin nearly reaching her chest, and when she finishes, she throws her head back, sighing, finally reappearing after a lifetime in Neverland.

Ai is truly at her loveliest when she loses herself to her own music.

She opens her eyes, and her gaze lands on him. Putting her glasses back on, she says, "That was horrible, wasn't it?"

He gives her a brief applause, striding toward her. "You're being delusional—that was beautiful! You didn't tell me you've started playing Chopin."

She stares at him incredulously. "You knew that was Chopin?"

"Uh, duh." He takes a seat beside her in the tiny piano chair, his shoulder brushing hers. He lies, "We listened to him when you were tutoring me, remember?"

He doesn't tell Ai that he recognizes Chopin from the countless times he has stayed up late to memorize her repertoire, listen to every work of her favorite composers, and watch famous pianists perform their guts out on YouTube. It would be embarrassing if she found out about this—about how much he yearned to be sucked into her world.

"Oh, yeah. You said you liked him." She shrugs. "To this day, I still can't see why. He's so unspectacular he makes babies fall asleep."

"Uh, you do know that it's a scientifically proven fact that classical music is good for babies, right? There are literally a hundred playlists for them on Spotify. But anyway, if you say you don't like him, then what's up with this?"

She closes the lid on the piano. "When you're functioning on zero hours of sleep, you won't believe all the bad decisions your mind forces you into making. Trust me, you don't want to know how I got to Chopin. So how did it go?"

Ryouta debates with himself about telling her. He's not ready to make it a real thing yet. But the words force themselves out of his mouth before he can stop them. "I'm the captain."

"Wow, okay, that's a surprise." She catches the expression on his face, so she adds, "But a pleasant one! I was expecting something along the lines of Takeuchi booting you off the team for your flashiness."

"I do not show off! That much, I guess…" Ryouta rests the side of his head on top of hers. "It won't matter what sensei says, I've made up my mind. I'm not going to accept it. It's a suicide mission."

Ai inches away from him, so he is forced to give up a rather comfortable position. She throws him a puzzled glance.

"You're not smiling," she says, gazing up at him with doe eyes. He stares back. Her remark is hushed, even though they're the only people on the entire floor. She shakes her head, as if ridding her mind of immaterial thoughts. "It's so…never mind. So why don't you take it? I don't think you have much of a choice, and it's useless to act like you do."

He lifts the lid open and presses a high A. "Because I know I'm not made to be the captain? Because I never asked to be one? Because I know I'm doomed to mess things up? There are so many logical reasons I could choose from, but all of them mean the same—I will fail. Badly. It seems my own captain and coach don't know me at all."

"Well aren't you being oddly unconfident today. Is this a side of you I haven't met yet?"

"It's a side even I thought didn't exist." He buries his face in his hands. "You're the smarter one here, Ai-tan, do you have any advice on how to get me out of this situation?"

Ai sighs, crossing her arms across her chest. "Do you want to hear my opinion, Ryou?"

"You're going to say it anyway. I know it."

A pregnant pause ensues briefly, before Ai begins, "You're acting like a kid right now. A very stupid kid. You want everything to go your way. You want to have the final say. You expect Takeuchi and Hayakawa to concede to your wish and compromise for someone else instead, when they know very well that you're best suited for it. And why do you feel as though you're in a chokehold? Because you are Kise Ryouta, and Kise Ryouta is this one-of-a-kind, multi-talented person who never fails. And yet he is afraid of failure. So Kise Ryouta does not want to take this, because he knows that if he will, he's running the risk of failing."

He opens his mouth to defend himself, but she holds up a hand to stop him. "I'm not done yet."

She continues, "Whatever's going on in your head right now, you're going to forget about it when you've become the best captain in the history of Kaijo High, and all your teammates look up to you. You're going to forget about this moment when your head is too high up and you're in love with the feeling of being depended on. I'm sure Kasamatsu-senpai and Hayakawa-senpai were both asking the same questions you have right now. They didn't ask for it and sure as hell didn't believe in themselves at first, but look how they handled it. And if their success is any indication, then you will be just fine."

"Ai-tan…" She has confessed on multiple occasions she isn't good at reading people, but right now he disagrees. Only little of the war inside of him has he projected to her, but Ai has witnessed all of it upon casting a mere look at him. And she's never one to disclose comfort to him when he needs it, but here she is, heaving a deep breath after talking in paragraphs. For a fleeting moment, he forgets about the problem and grins, glad to have met this side of her.

Triumphant, Ai smirks back. "Your goofy face is back on. I think it's safe to say I've done my job well. Now it's time you do yours."

Ryouta reaches for her face, marveling at how small it is compared to his large hand. He pulls off her wireframe glasses, folds them, and hides them away in his breast pocket. Her eyesight isn't that severe, so he knows she won't complain. He'll give them back when they get back to the classroom, but right now, somebody else is sitting beside him.

"You're taking them off again," Ai says, rubbing the translucent spots of skin under her eyes. "Why?"

With her glasses no longer obscuring her ice grey eyes, the cerulean flecks are visible, like chinks in a metal armor. He has always found her eyes to be otherworldly, peculiar. Bewitching. If he stares into them for too long, a buried truth will resurface from within him and present itself to her, glistening in shame and guilt.

"I want you to be honest," he says, not adding, Like how your eyes do to me. "How did you get through to me so easily?"

"Simple." Ai smiles, a gentle one this time. Her fingertips graze his cheek, cold as betrayal. They're gone in a blink. "Here's another thing Kise Ryouta is clueless about—he's so transparent when he's with me."

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