Aomine Daiki's Infatuation. - Aomine X Reader.

Japan

The distant hum of the bus's engine fades into a still wind. My footsteps are the only sound infiltrating the silence, as the street lights highlight the path before me. The sun is setting behind the horizon, and the sky reflects a kaleidoscope of colours on my skin. I focus on my surroundings – the buildings on both sides of the road and the shadows cast by them – even though they're too far away for me to make out any details.

My body feels heavy from the long journey, like an empty sack of bones filled with sand. Before the bus ride, I'd sit in those dingy seats on what felt like an endless flight. I walk slowly, one foot in front of the other. Eventually, I reach the blue door of a village home, 134 etched into a plaque of rich brown wood on the right-hand side of the entrance. "Give me a moment!" a warm and character-rich elder's voice bellows from the opposite side. The door's hinges swing ajar. Slowly, a frail woman steps aside for me to enter. Her face is framed by silver hair, pulled back in a tight bun at her nape. She wears her usual white kimono with dark pants and shoes. A small panda doll rests in her hands. Her cheeks are sunken, yet she smiles warmly at me. "Welcome home, [y/n]", she says in perfect English, "please, come in, come in!".

I bow down in front of her, this little powerhouse of 86 years, to pay my respects before kicking off my shoes.

The nostalgic scent of cedarwood and cinnamon stormed the doorway as a delighted sigh emitted from the back of my nose, inhaling the warmth in the atmosphere. It smelled so good that I didn't even notice Emi's absence until she spoke again: "You must be so exhausted, how was the journey here?".

I sigh; if fatigue had a voice, that's what it would be – a long, strung-out sigh. "Super exhausted! But the scenery and cultural shift have been exciting!". Grandma Emi chuckles in response.

"Are you excited for your first day at Tōō tomorrow?" Her long, inquisitive questions sounded no different from the last time we spoke, although it was so long ago. She knew how much I wanted to play sports and how much I despised the isolation that came with parents having to make ends meet, working long hours, and asking the occasional "Are you still meeting A grades?" whenever I did get the opportunity to see them.

"I think it will be difficult to adjust, but you know, I've always been more sporty than academic."

"Without a doubt, [y/n]; I still remember your kindergarten sports events like they were yesterday – you had never looked so happy." She points an aged finger towards a photo frame, displaying a young me with a medal in hand.

"Hopefully, I'll be holding another one of those sometime soon." I playfully retort. 

"Belief is the first step to success," she states with a genuine smile. "Let me show you your room. I've had it redecorated, ready for your return."

"Oh, you really didn't need to go to all this trouble!" I exclaimed, a mix of appreciation and guilt colouring my voice.

Grandma Emi's eyes twinkle with a hint of playful admonishment. "Nonsense, dear. You must have a comfortable space to call your own while you're here." Her worn hands, a testament to years of love and labour, grasp the door handle. With a gentle push, she unveils a room that takes my breath away.

The room in front of me is a marvel of Scandinavian comfort and Japanese minimalism united beautifully. The warm oak cladding that adorns the walls makes my eyes grow in awe. With the backdrop of two large glass patio doors, sheer drapes sail gently in the breeze, their gossamer patterns dancing like mystical spirits.

Grandma offers a small, graceful bow. "Please make yourself at home. I'll be near if you need anything." Her voice softens with tenderness. "It's wonderful to see you, [y/n]. You should get some rest now."

I reciprocate her bow, my heart full of thankfulness and love. As she shuffles out, her familiar shadow following behind her, I collapse into the warm embrace of clean cotton sheets, my drained body finally finding relief in this serene state of tranquillity.