Akashi is absolute. In more ways than one. She comes from an extremely successful and wealthy family, she is ranked number one of the first year high school students, she is both Student Council President and captain of the boys' first-string basketball team at Rakuzan, and she happens to be dating the ever desirable ex-captain of her middle school basketball team, Nijimura Shuuzou.

Next to her, Nijimura can't help but feel incredibly inferior sometimes, despite all her efforts to reassure him so. She also happens to possess infinite confidence, or so he believes.

Nijimura slouches over his desk, resting his chin in his hand as he stares blankly at the board where his history teacher is outlining some war or the other. The room is too warm, the teacher's voice too monotonous, and the sky too blue for him to focus. Besides, if the information is really that important, he can always ask Akashi to teach it to him later. Along with every other subject he is struggling with.

It isn't that he is necessarily a bad student; it is simply that school isn't his forte. If anything, spending a year in LA only made him despise school even more, as it took away from time spent with his father. Actually, the only reason he took up Akashi's offer to return to Japan, to Rakuzan, on a full scholarship, is that his father's health had stabilized and his family is aware he isn't happy in America. Unfortunately, despite all of his financial support, he is still required to keep his grades up.

At the sound of the bell, the teacher's voice abruptly stops midsentence, his students scrabbling to gather up their school supplies and leave for lunch. Nijimura stands as well, packing his possessions, debating whether or not to fight the lunch time rush or simply go hungry. However, his internal debate is cut short when he notices a few of his classmates (he wouldn't yet call them anything more than acquaintances) freeze in place. Following their gaze, he can't help but smirk, if a bit confused, at the figure standing in the doorway, hip jutted out to one side and fist on said hip, other hand holding a pristinely wrapped lunch bento out in front of her. Akashi Seijuuro.

"Let's go Shuuzou, you're too slow." When her voice cuts through the brief silence, a few of the boys seem to deflate, even fewer daring to send half-hearted glares towards Nijimura's direction. His smirk only widens as he slings his bag over his shoulder, walking over to Akashi and gratefully taking the lunch from her. She looks up at him, blinking once and gracing him with a small smile before spinning around on heel to leave. As they exit his class, he turns his head to press a kiss to the side of her head, eyes flickering back to catch the looks of evident jealousy on his classmates. It's not his fault he can't make friends with many of them, not when so many hold Akashi on such a high pedestal. He is honestly grateful she doesn't come to find him at his class very often lest he turn all of her fans against him.

To his delight, she allows him to keep a hand at the small of her back as they walk outside for lunch, casually exchanging small talk of their morning classes. Normally, she rejects his efforts of romantic actions in public, claiming it makes her seem less threatening. And in response to her protests, he always claims a kiss from her before obeying the Empress's orders. It isn't that she is always cold to him. No, she is plenty affectionate to him when it is only the two of them. It is just that her father, and therefore her, expect a perfect image of her. Emotionally cool and calculating, and an immaculate image of elegance.

As they eat, his gaze stays on her. While his blazer has been carelessly slung over the back of the bench they sit on, hers remains on her person, every button done, the knot of her tie snug against her neck, her socks pulled to just below her knee, though her skirt is rolled perhaps just a bit too high.

Akashi sets her meal down for a moment, her chopsticks clicking on the side of the container, tilting her head slightly as she meets his gaze, "Is something wrong, Shuuzou?"

He flinches minutely when she looks to him, appearing confused though a bit flushed under his scrutiny, picking his words carefully. "I don't know…something doesn't seem right," he sets his own lunch down to lean towards her so his face is only inches from hers, "perhaps the real question is if something is bothering you?"

She glanced down for a split second then back up, her face a serene mask, "Of course not. You're imagining things," she dismisses. Nijimura sighs, picking up his bento to finish his lunch, dropping the subject for the moment, though her denial only solidifies his suspicions.

When the bell to signify the end of lunch chimes, they stand in unison. "I'll pick you up at your class," he half-orders, after all, no one truly orders Akashi Seijuuro around, and she nods, doing the undignified to stand on her tip toes and pull him down for a kiss before walking briskly away.

He stares blankly at her retreating back, pressing his hand to his mouth and smiling despite himself.

Nijimura's classmates manage to convince their teacher to release them early, and he sends a silent thanks to them all as he walks to Akashi's class, leaning against the wall just to the side of the door. When the final bell rings, the door slams open as the students of class 1-A flood out, a few sparing him a curious glance before hurrying on their way, especially when Akashi stops in front of him, pulling him away by the hand.

"You're awfully affectionate today," he drawls as they exit the building where all classes are held, after she's slipped her hand into his, lacing their fingers together.

"Shut up," she answers simply and falls silent. He doesn't pursue another vocal answer, simply watching her out of the corner of his eye as they walk down the pathway towards the gym for basketball practice.

Her erratically affectionate behavior persists through the week. However, while Nijimura does tend to be hot-headed, he also possesses exceptional observational abilities.

He notes her watching, after a while. He catchers her brief yet enraptured stares when they pass other couples. He observes that the couples that catch Akashi's attention most are those of dainty and delicate girls, where the girls' boyfriends effortlessly swing them up in a hug upon greeting, with loud peals of laughter emanating from them.

The next time he catchers her gaze focused elsewhere, even as they walk with his arm looped around her waist and his hand tucked into her coat pocket, he loses his patience. He suddenly turns, pulling his arm free and wrapping it around her shoulders, the other catching her under her knees so he's carrying her princess-style.

Akashing responds with a very un-Akashi like squeak of surprise, her heterochromatic eyes widening when she meets his gaze.

"Stop it," he mumbles into her hair, just next to her ear, "You're just as—no, you're a hundred times prettier than those girls—and you play basketball."

"That's only half the problem, Shuuzou…" She turns her head so her face is angled towards where the unknown couple was, "I'm not delicate or cute at all, and it would be undignified for me to act as so even if I could."

Nijimura can only stare down at her in disbelief. If Akashi's self-confidence has been diminished, where is his? At negative ten thousand percent? She turns back to him, a small yet apologetic smile on her face, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't trouble you so with such trivial matters—ah!"

Akashi flinches when his head collides with hers, a frown marring his face, "For such a smart person, you can be really stupid sometimes, Akashi," he presses forward when she looks ready to argue, "No one is perfect, not even you, though you're pretty damn close, and your father can't expect anymore. And besides. I'm not scrawny either, so we're perfectly proportional. I'm carrying you without any problem, aren't I?"

Her mouth forms a small "o" as if she just realizes this, and leans forward, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him. Nijimura can feel her smiling into the kiss and he returns the favor before setting her back down on the ground. He can't believe the solution to what seemed like such a confusing dilemma is so simple, a few rather crudely spoken works.

As they continue towards practice, Akashi chattering on about some new training regimen she devised instead of paying attention in her Japanese Literature class, he can't help but realize again that no matter how perfect he considers her, she isn't absolute, not anymore; not like the Akashi Seijuuro he heard about in her third year in Teikou. The girl who walks next to him, her hand grasping his tightly, may be about as perfect as a human being can get, but when she stumbles, he wants to be the one to catch her despite his own feeling of inferiority.