novel: something new or unusual; a relatively long fictitious narrative written in prose

It was a pleasant surprise for Eru when the day ended without significant drama. Back in Teiko, it wouldn't have taken Aomine or Kise more than half a day to get into immense trouble for something they had done purely on impulse; for instance, the time they instigated a food fight in the cafeteria while arguing over the last onigiri. Or the time they threw a full dustbin from the highest floor, on the pretext of demonstrating the laws of physics. On one hand, she couldn't deny that those eventful days had been the source of much banter amongst the first string. On the other, given her current circumstances, any semblance of peace and sanity was welcome.

Seijuro's determined footsteps broke her reverie, pulling her back to reality. The tiny smile playing on his lips upon meeting her gaze was worth everything their friendship had been through, and her thoughtful expression morphed into a delighted grin. Almost instinctively, he reached over to relieve her of the textbooks she was carrying in her arms. He carried them with ease, and Eru tried her hardest to avoid paying too close attention to his lean but undeniably defined muscles. Thankfully, she was spared from the difficulty when Seijuro broke the silence.

"I'll walk you to the clubroom. It's the orientation session today, correct?"

"Yeah," she hesitated, "It's quite nerve-wrecking, honestly."

He tilted his head curiously in her direction, heterochromatic eyes locking onto her brown ones. "You became manager of the basketball team without knowing anything or anyone. Obviously, you're capable of successfully integrating into a different environment."

A part of her knew he was right, and that empirical evidence pointed to a conclusion that suggested she didn't have anything to worry about. But the new always threw her off-guard: new people and places, new dynamics and habits that she would need to grow accustomed to. The disbelief written across Eru's features wasn't lost on Seijuro, and he sighed.

"You've already made your decision," he paused, contemplating his next words. "And you shouldn't have any trouble."

The resulting warmth that spread to her chest had nothing to do with the effectiveness of his words – after all, she reckoned a twelve-year-old could have used more comforting words – and everything to do with how he actually tried to reassure her.

While the prospect of entering a drastically different environment was daunting, she had already chosen to leave it behind in favour of something novel. Still, she thought, maybe it was about time she pursued something she had always enjoyed.

When they arrived at the doors of the clubroom, she noted the hint of worry on Seijuro's face, mixed with a tinge of something else – something bitter, at the notion that they wouldn't be spending quite so much time together anymore. Then it was replaced with a familiar soft expression that would ordinarily have made her smile but had mysteriously lost its effectiveness this time around. It was this – the unnecessary, overwhelming anxiety she felt in stressful situations – that she had always hated about herself. Unfortunately, it had only worsened over the years, and she hadn't quite found a solution to her trembling hands and shallow breaths.

"We're here." His voice was low. When she glanced in his direction, she caught the moment of indecision on his face – as if he'd wanted to say something else, before opting against it. "I'll find you when it's over." Curt as ever, but not without an undertone of care.

Eru focussed on the slight pressure his palm exerted on her lower back and tried to calm the relentless beating of her heart. Then, with a few parting words of encouragement, Seijuro departed, leaving her feeling utterly defenceless.

Eru had arrived at the clubroom early to avoid drawing unnecessary attention to herself. As it turned out, she wasn't the first. When she gingerly pushed the door open, she was surprised to be greeted immediately by laughter and animated conversations.

"Nanase-chan!" Igarashi was grinning, and she was momentarily caught off-guard. Judging from the relaxed way that he was reclined on a couch, it seemed that he had already integrated himself among the club's senior members.

"Um, hello." She inclined her head shyly and was immediately greeted by bright smiles.

A willowy girl with shoulder-length dark hair slipped off her seat and headed towards her. In the split second that Eru managed to temporarily meet her gaze, it was impossible to ignore the calm, intelligent gleam in her eyes that was vaguely reminiscent of Seijuro. However, any uncertainty with regard to her character was instantly dissipated the moment Eru reached out to shake the girl's extended hand.

"I'm the club president, Fukami Kanae. It's a pleasure to meet you, Nanase-chan." Upon seeing Fukami's lips tilt upwards in a cheerful laugh that reached her eyes, Eru swore she could almost feel the warmth the girl exuded.

The other members – there were five excluding Igarashi – jovially echoed her greeting, and she was struck by the immense contrast to the hostile welcome she had received upon joining Teiko's basketball team. After a round of brief introductions, Fukami waved Igarashi and her over to the wide discussion table positioned next to the window, leaving the others to resume their casual conversations.

"As I'm sure you know," Fukami began, after settling into a comfortable swivel chair. "This club encourages you to explore any genre through reading and writing. Club sessions are for us to bounce ideas among everyone, share your writing, and collaborate with each other.

"Unfortunately, we've had a lot fewer sign-ups over the last couple of years, so you're the only two first years we've got…" She continued wistfully. "But we've managed to successfully avoid recruiting absolute imbeciles because of that, so it's not a complete loss."

While Igarashi laughed, Eru forced herself to hide the look of relief that threatened to make its grand appearance across her face. After three years managing the basketball team, she had more than enough of dealing with oversubscribed clubs. This tiny club of just eight members was an ideal place to do something she'd always enjoyed; and maybe, just maybe, it was where she'd find a community, a home. Somewhere she could proudly pursue her interests alongside like-minded people without fear of judgement.

"Anyway, regarding collaboration," Fukami interrupted her train of thoughts, "it's convenient that you two know each other because you're going to be partners!"

"What?" To any bystander, the differences in their reactions would have been comical. Any positive emotion reflected on her face earlier was instantly replaced by an expression that was nothing short of confusion and reluctance, while Igarashi gave her a thumbs up and yet another grin on his perpetually-smiling mouth.

"C'mon Nanase-chan, I'm not that bad." His words were teasing but his eyebrows were slightly furrowed, and Eru instantly regretted her immediate outburst. He was right, but he was so, utterly wrong at the same time. It wasn't that she disliked him – because she really didn't – but the fact that she hadn't quite expected there to be anything close to teamwork in a hobby she considered extremely personal.

Sensing her discomfort, Fukami hastened to salvage the situation. "It's mostly individual. But once every couple of months, partners are meant to work together on a piece, to learn from each other's writing styles; then the rest of the club gives you feedback on your work."

Despite her lingering apprehension, Eru found herself unwittingly returning Fukami's reassuring smile – albeit with an air of uncertainty. "That does sound… interesting," she ventured, and Igarashi chimed in with a noise of agreement.

"Perfect," Fukami said, evidently relieved, "Maybe you two can spend the remaining time getting to know each other a bit more."

Before Eru could even consider protesting, Igarashi angled his upper body towards her. "What do you say, ace? Ready to be the best team?"

"It's not a competition," she said instinctively, "But… I guess I'm ready to have fun." Her response was awkward and stupid, she knew it was. But that somehow didn't stop Igarashi from grinning as if she was simultaneously the most amusing and endearing person he'd ever encountered. The moment the smile flitted across his face, she was reminded of Kise once more: dorky enthusiasm in all its glory. And when she noticed the tiny creases by his eyes that wordlessly proved the sincerity in his efforts, she made the spontaneous decision to be carried away by the figurative storm he – and his name – so perfectly embodied.

When she met his gaze, it felt as though the air had shifted and Igarashi could somehow sense her new resolve. He regarded her in a way that made her feel completely vulnerable – like he was able to see right through the façade she tried so desperately to maintain.

"So Nanase-chan, what genre do you like writing?" His eyes were soft and curious, with a certain innocence in them that she hadn't noticed before. And perhaps it was the fact that he just felt like Kise, or how his eager green eyes never left hers, or simply how some people were inexplicably easier to trust than others; either way, Eru found herself unexpectedly dismissing the gnawing fear that usually held her back from opening up to others.

"Something idyllic, I guess," she began hesitantly, "of scenery and nature, sunrises and sunsets." It was impossible to meet his gaze, especially not when he had gone quiet and was listening with rapt attention. "Something ideal: with romances and happy endings for those who deserve it, and justice served to those who don't."

"Way too deep for me, Nanase-chan," he laughed. "Don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't that." In her peripheral vision, she saw the corners of his mouth tilt upwards ever-so-slightly. "So you like writing stories?"

She shook her head. "Just excerpts. Snippets of my thoughts; tiny bursts of inspiration." Somehow, she could never bring herself to finish any of her works. To her overly-critical, perfectionistic self, they always seemed suboptimal a few months after writing them. That incidentally played an integral role in her reluctance to write with someone else – if she had trouble appreciating her own writing, how could she possibly expect someone else to?

"Same, but because I'm terrible with commitment. Usually lose inspiration halfway through." He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly at his confession.

"What about you?" Eru asked, the slightest smile playing on her lips. "What do you like writing?" His verdant eyes lit up at her question, as though he had been waiting eagerly for an opening but feared to come across as impolite.

"Dialogue. Good, funny dialogue," he said excitedly, and something in his voice made her look up to meet his gaze. "The kind that'll make people smile when they're having a hard time; the kind that people want to share with their friends to brighten their day."

"That's oddly specific," she laughed.

"The literary world lacks humour," he said simply. "Besides, that's why we write, isn't it? To transport us to a different place – a better place." He had hit the nail on the head, because that was exactly why she wrote: to escape to somewhere better, to be someone better.

It felt strange to admit it, but she swore her heart paused for just a second. There was passion in his eyes – she hadn't seen it with such intensity in far too long, and she hadn't realised how much she missed it. Instinctively, she thought of Aomine's brilliant grin when he scored; the satisfied smile that graced Midorima's lips when he improved his range, the determination beneath Murasakibara's façade of indifference, and Kise's ambitious vows to catch up with the rest. She recalled the hours Kuroko channelled into the sport, and the tiny light that danced in Seijuro's eyes when he spoke of basketball.

"Yeah," she said softly. "That's why I write too."

By the time the orientation session ended, Eru felt significantly less daunted by the future in the writing club. Igarashi was a bit much sometimes, but maybe that was exactly what she needed. Alone – and even with Seijuro – she was cautious and wary; the type of person who never quite allowed anyone in. But there was a possibility that Igarashi, with his carefree laughter and inexplicable openness, could change that, if only she gave him the chance to.

So, when they walked towards the doors of the clubroom, Eru made the irreversible decision to let him impact her life. "It was fun today," she began awkwardly, "I don't usually share my writing, but I think I'll enjoy this. Writing with you, I mean."

"Yeah? Well, I'll look forward to this too." He had a grin so wide that it formed little crinkles by his eyes, and it was almost as if he understood her intentions perfectly. When she found herself instinctively returning his smile, it felt as if the heaviness in her heart was slowly being lifted.

Seijuro was waiting just outside the door when they exited, with his blazer draped casually over his left shoulder and a book in his right hand. Eru noticed his slightly disgruntled expression when he saw her engaged in conversation with Igarashi, but it quickly faded when she headed towards him with undisguised enthusiasm.

"Hey," she said softly, her hand brushing lightly across his shoulder in greeting.

"How did you find the orientation session?" He cast her a brief glance as he tucked his novel neatly into his messenger bag.

"It was all right," she shrugged, "Better than expected though. And the other members were really nice!"

"I did tell you it would go smoothly." There was a faint smile on his face, and her heart warmed at the sight of it. "Let's go, Eru. I'll walk you home."

When his gaze settled on her and his right hand shifted to rest on the small of her back, all the while making sure he was in step with her, Eru almost blurted out that she felt as though she was already home. And when he gently slipped her bag off her shoulder and wrapped his scarf around her frame, she just knew that spring had finally come.

A/N: on one hand, this is long overdue; on the other, I feel kind of brilliant for thinking of the chapter title (please commend me). this was kind of a dry chapter, but it's also important because it helps to establish the premise of the story better. don't worry I live for akashi-related fluff so there will be a lot soon!