Chapter 22: The Red Oni Who Cried (Part 1)
Kiyoshi adjusted his cap as the sun rays pressed against the hot ground. At least there weren't that many people in the line. He sighed and tilted his body to the side, turning to glance the people around him. It wasn't too bad, being around people that is. So long as they don't spoke to him or touch him, he might survive this.
The line moved. About ten minutes later, Kiyoshi was in front of the plain entrance. For all the information he learned about Mikage while waiting, the surrounding area sure looked average. But the state of the art buildings were just after it.
"Excuse me, boy," a man addressed as he was about to step in. Kiyoshi frowned at two men dressed as police--no, security. Their thick vests and dark clothing made him suspicious, so he merely stepped aside as instructed in silence, aware of the stares the call drew.
"Please remove your cap and open your bag." Kiyoshi looked at the line, at the staff accepting the tickets and tearing one-third to return it with a rehearsed smile. He was the only one outside. The kid's comment followed by his mother's hush hurt more than it should have. He turned back at the agitated officers who were only a few centimeters taller.
"Do I look that suspicious?" The words left Kiyoshi before he noticed. One of them visibly flinched and looked away. One mutter from the audience gave Kiyoshi a hint. He tried squeezing out an innocent tone, pushing down the rising bitterness. "Is it because of the accident?"
"Yes, it's for security reasons," one of them finally replied. Kiyoshi lifted a hand to the silver stud. He had to admit there were times where he looked in the mirror and spooked himself with his silhouette. He could pass a punk, an unruly citizen. And the cap he depended on to be outside didn't help the slightest. He pouted. And he was wearing a presentable outfit because Keima's team would see him.
"Is that Teikoku's cap?" The man on the right asked, the other peering into Kiyoshi's olive sling bag.
Kiyoshi nodded. "I'm a student there." He tilted his head. ". . . Do you need my student ID?" An icky taste bled on his tongue when he said that and he regretted asking. Yet, the man that was speaking to him elbowed his partner and pointed at the cap in his hand.
"We-we are very sorry!" The left man stuttered, almost shoving the bag back that silently offended Kiyoshi. "We didn't mean retaining a talented student from Teikoku! Please enjoy the match!"
Kiyoshi raised his eyebrow and pursed his lips. "Yeah, I don't think the Commander would be pleased to hear this," he slowly taunted. He watched as the grown men's faces lost color and implored him to stay silent. Kiyoshi panicked and stammered a reply before helplessly rushing away.
Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea! His face flushed hotly. Don't use power you don't have. Guilt pierced his sensitive heart, recalling the desperate faces of the two security men. They were only doing their job, idiot! Kiyoshi gripped his button shirt and leaned against the closest wall, taking deep breaths as tears stung behind his eyes.
Mikage was pristine and well-maintained. The fresh lush grass hugged the stone walks that connected each building. Kiyoshi was at the corner of the soccer pitch. He looked up. So this building must be where the bleachers are and one of the participating teams. Incidentally, Keima didn't tell me which one his team was, did he? Kiyoshi sighed and shrugged. "What the hell."
Entering the nearby building, Kiyoshi's nerves relaxed, the smell of oil wafting into his nose. He let out a delighted sound, closing his mouth and swallowing. "Damnit, it smells great." His stomach grumbled. There were people in line, but they seemed to be moving at a decent pace. Each whiff nudged his primal instincts. Maybe the negative experience had emptied his stomach.
Kiyoshi sighed as he threw the napkins where a croquette and a grilled squid on a stick were wrapped. "Five hundred yen I didn't pay Shino-san," he mourned. "I'm sorry." The speakers suddenly sizzled to life and told the attendees the match will start in fifteen minutes, causing a frenzy of shouts around the stand section.
"Oh yeah, a seat!" Kiyoshi made a beeline towards the polished stairs, joining the few individuals who broke off from mass on the food stands. He promptly stopped as he entered into the light, huge satellite things hovering over them. Suddenly, he didn't fascinate the idea of studying here very much.
A feminine voice called him by his first name. It was Keima's mom, gently waving from the stands; his dad beside her and nodding at him.
"Good morning," Kiyoshi bowed politely at the couple.
"Keima told us you were coming. We saved you a seat." Kiyoshi accepted gracefully with his best smile.
Soon after they took their places, Keima's mom leaned forward. "Keima is on this side. If you--"
Kiyoshi sprang up eagerly, flinging his bag on the chair. "I'm sorry. I'm going to see him!" His heart thumped as he ran down the stairs, a smile tugging at his lips. Was he thrilled because it was Keima? Or because it was a match? His body felt light and full of energy as if he was back to those joyful days.
"Keima!" Kiyoshi called, crouching and poking his head out of the railing. His friend noticed instantly and broke into a smile when their eyes met. Kiyoshi threw a V sign and grinned broadly.
"Kiyoshi-senpai!" One of the kids waved at him. Kiyoshi recognized him as one of his underclassmen and waved back with a gentler smile. "Please root for us!" the younger boy yelled as he jumped and threw his arms around. Kiyoshi smiled again, a pleasant feeling inflating his chest before he met with another gaze.
"Yo, princess," the boy mouthed, thrusting his chin curtly. Kiyoshi cringed and returned the nod, quickly searching for Keima again. That was an interaction he could have lived without. Their former captain had enough reasons to scorn him.
The coach gathered the team for a pep talk. It aroused Kiyoshi's fighting spirit and was about to reply as if he were part of the team. Sports were great, Kiyoshi thought, it inspired this sense of union towards the same objective. It was a home, a welcoming group.
I want to go back.
Keima's jade green eyes met Kiyoshi's brown ones, perhaps for the last time until the end of the match. He was directly downwards, so Kiyoshi couldn't distinguish his face because of the sunlight. "This is like one of those fateful matches, huh?" His friend started, scratching the back of his neck. "I feel like I should say something cool but my mind is blank." He chuckled.
Kiyoshi smiled, a new kind, propping his chin on his palm and staring down at his beloved; whatever way he was loved. "Kei, go win," he simply said. Nothing more had to be exchanged. He noticed Keima's infectious grin and his features softened. "Love you lots."
While Keima's back shrunk with the growing distance, Kiyoshi sighed wistfully and sank his face on his arms. "I can't stop loving him." He ruffled the back of his hair. "Red and blue fit together. The red oni longs for its friend." He covered his face with his hands, love overflowing in the form of tears stinging the corners of his eyes. Kiyoshi chocked. "And I don't dislike that."
The Red Oni Who Cried (Part 1) | End