Silence and Conviction

The acrid smell of fuel and blood penetrated his nostrils. The sound of screams and wails tore his eardrums.

A turned over van. The ache in his chest.

He had to go. To the place of destiny.

Hibiki Seigou woke up with a scream. Beads of sweat made his clothes stick to his body and his erratic breath made his head ache.

The room was dark, cold moonlight illuminating the chair and medical equipment at his bed side.

"That dream again, huh?"

The Inazuma General Hospital was quiet at the dead of night. From his bed, Hibiki stared out the window, the full moon hanging above the town.

He despised hospitals. It was place filled with the sick and moribund. All he could feel in this sort of place was frustration. Frustration at his own body for being broken, frustration at himself for being unable to control it. But what he despised the most was the shame in showing his discomfort in front of others. The staff was kind to an old man like him. Taking his misplaced anger out on them would be extremely rude.

Why did he hate hospitals this much? The lonely nights, the sterile environment. It made it heart ache. He wanted to tear the bed covers and go somewhere. A corner of his mind egged him to go to that place. But where?

Did he have somewhere he had to be?

A familiar deep voice ran out, making Hibiki jump out of his skin. Grabbing his chest and heaving, he turned to the voice at the door.

Standing there was a long haired man in a white suit. No matter now he changed, Hibiki would never mistake him.

"Kageyama," he heaved as if all air had left his lungs. "How did you get here? Visitor hours are long over. How are you even—"

"Alive?" The man chuckled. "You should know I'm not a man who gives up easily."

Hibiki, knowing the man's stubbornness, dropped the topic. "The kids mourned your death. We all did."

The long haired man pocketed his hands without replying, the corner of his lips lifting mysteriously.

"What did you come here for?" Hibiki huffed. "Fifth Sector has been dealt with. Or is there a new organization that wants to control soccer?"

The man smirked. "I heard about your role in taking down Fifth Sector. Good work."

"Heh, the rebellion needed a public face in case something went wrong. I'm an old man with nothing to lose, leaving the hard work to the new generation. Gouenji was recently appointed as the new President of the Youth Soccer Association. Endou and Kidou are training the new generation at Raimon."

Knowing who was where doing what been the long haired man's job for a long time. He was intimately acquainted with Gouenji Shuuya's latest priority at the Association.

Kuroiwa Ryuusei had arrived to Japan over two months ago under the Raimon Group's protection, courtesy of the Raimon empress.

His capture made him consider his cover was blown after all these years but when the young woman introduced herself and made him an offer, he realized he was being given a second chance.

"Coach Kuroiwa Ryuusei? Or should I call you by your real name, Kageyama Reiji? Tell me, do you want to prove the superiority of Earth's soccer to the whole galaxy?"

Kuroiwa became aware of the passage of time. The little princess had grown into a capable and shrewd woman, promptly earning his respect. Her amber eyes were ambitious and determined. After accepting her offer, he was treated like a guest but always reminded of his place as a pawn in the gameboard. Her gameboard. The empress kept the details of the offer under a thick veil until days before the start of the tournament, sending him off to the Youth Soccer Association at the dead of night.

Seeing the platinum-haired young man behind that desk stirred an emotion he couldn't describe. Of this child who—despite his role in a criminal organization—was given the most influential position in the world of Japanese youth soccer. In the past, he would have seethed with envy but now his heart couldn't muster even a fraction.

Gouenji's troubled emotions, visible in his gaze, subsided when Kuroiwa shared the name of his new master.

The young man laughed dryly, gazing at the papers strewn all over the floor, bags under his tired eyes. "Leave it to Raimon to solve the unsolvable."

After confirming Kuroiwa's words, the young man didn't seem doubt his loyalty to the mission. Perhaps because the fate of the planet was at stake, or because the empress shared the cautionary measures she had already taken. Regardless, they began working together to find players with the potential of standing up against the best in the galaxy.

-

Every so often, Kuroiwa noticed a sliver of resentment in the man's obsidian eyes. As if the young man had forgotten to close the curtains to his soul, allowing his true feelings flash through.

People tolerated Kuroiwa because of his position and expertise but Gouenji's politeness irked him. The young man never failed to upkeep the image of a good host.

Their exchanges reminded him of his past life. Of the fake smiles and pleasantries between wealthy people who only cared about their own selfish desires. He always preferred forging alliances with honest thieves than lying snakes.

In contrast, the empress had been clear of her distaste in his very existence. Kuroiwa was convinced he was chosen because he was the most worthless and foolish soccer coach in the planet but also that his initial impression was correct.

He was tricked and became involved in what was essentially a suicide mission. She knew he would do anything for soccer, including giving up his life.

With stakes this high, if he had been in her place, he would have done the same.

Gouenji observed the door where his secretary had just exited, leaving two steaming cups of tea sitting in front of them respectively. Kuroiwa had posed a question to test him. See how far he was able to put on airs. "I had considered every other Japanese coach. There was no one else more suited for the job."

The older man kept his composure despite his annoyance. He rephrased. "Do you also wish for me to die out there? For hurting your friends?"

Gouenji sent him a calculating glance. "Raimon gave me her word. You won't let those kids come to harm. You love soccer, and have decades of experience." He went back to the papers in front of him, one-sidedly ending the conversation.

-

After the tournament started, time flew by. They couldn't allow themselves a moment of rest, for a single loss meant the end of life on Earth as they knew it.

With Kuroiwa's wit and strategies, Earth Eleven climbed the ranks. The adrenaline from taking part in life-decisive games were like a drug he was growing addicted to. Slowly but surely, his mind was regaining his previous sharpness and wit. His strategies became a compromise of the new generation's sensibilities and his characteristic coaching style, requiring less revisions and long-winded meetings.

Gouenji Shuuya was like mirror of his younger self. Standoffish, stoic, and serious, yet their differences were vast. The young man had power but he acted like it was a burden.

During a lull in a strategy meeting, Kuroiwa shared this last observation after the whiny trainer left the room. While the younger man seemed lost and a little put off, he answered nevertheless. "I'm not interested in power. At least, not until recently. When I realized that I could use it to protect the people I care about, it didn't seem so bad."

"I heard you worked under Senguuji Daigo while in Fifth Sector."

"Yes, and I did terrible things there," he admitted. "When I was offered this job, I thought it was my way to repent for all the wrongdoings. It's impossible for me to play soccer again."

The long haired man laughed. Gouenji was physically fit and held terrific talent. If he wanted to return to play soccer professionally, while he didn't have recent professional experience and finding his criminal record would be extremely easy, his prowess was enough for any coach to look the other way and give him an offer.

They really were the same. Doomed from the start because of their own minds. Kuroiwa wondered what spared Gouenji from meeting the same fate as him. He eventually found that Gouenji's demeanor drastically changed when talking about his friends, his former coach's grandson and his former protégé in particular.

Endou was away in a mission but his former protégé visited the building almost everyday. Kuroiwa made an effort for them to not be in the same room alone. It was the best for both parties.

As if to make his life more difficult, the boy began to take part in their meetings. Gouenji's reasoning was obviously because of the imminent threat but between meetings, Kuroiwa noticed the small moments of closeness between them.

Kuroiwa conscientiously ignored the way they treated one another. The way Gouenji's posture mellows like a cat around their master or the way Kidou uses excessive nagging to sooth his anxiety.

An old familiar feeling overcame the man. It was like being a child once again, seeing his classmates spend time with their families during sports meet and he was all alone.

Gouenji had something he didn't, people who prevented him from fucking himself over to the point of no return.

The long haired man had no one after his parents abandoned him. No one to protect him from people like Garshield who fueled his pain and anger, manipulating him into destroying the first and last place that could have saved his grieving soul. Or so had someone told him, for he never he believed he could be saved. Not back then, and not know.

Yet, as the day of his departure itched closer, Kuroiwa found himself yearning for what the young man had. But there was no one who would extend their hand to him, so Kuroiwa told himself.

-

They had finished their meeting early. Neither had been fully present, the air between them thick as fog. Kidou decided to take care of the finer details on his own and dragged Funagi with him.

Despite the dire circumstances, Kuroiwa hadn't suggested foul play during any of the meetings. He had grown to enjoy the thrill achieving victory under limited moves.

Unable to stand Gouenji's morose state, he moved to the rooftop seeking fresh air. The sky was tinged with reds and pinks, bumpy clouds covering the sky. Where the sun sank, it gave the impression of the end of the world.

Tomorrow by this time, the fate of the Earth would already be decided. A soccer match that would decide whether the sun would sink in the east while people returned to their homes, or a total bloodbath.

The door opened with a metallic creak. To the untrained eye, Gouenji Shuuya seemed impassive. Kuroiwa had learned the younger man's body language. His shoulders seemed a little heavy. When their eyes met, his eyes fleeted around but was too polite to turn around and leave.

Their argument the day before weighted between them. Gouenji gave him a spiel about love and friendship and Kuroiwa thoroughly rejected it.

"There are people out there who care about people who don't deserve it. People like you whose life has bee more about inflicting pain than anything else. There are kind people in this world that know everything you have done and would still give you a chance."

Lies. There was nobody like that left in this world.

A inordinate amount of time passed when Gouenji spoke. "My sister started university today.

She's one of the most important people in my life. Tomorrow's match isn't anything like the others." He clenched the metallic fence that surrounded them. "I have to protect everyone. I'll make Ozrock regret challenging Earth even if it's the last thing I do."

A corroded memory flashed through his eyes. A rooftop, a game with high stakes, a boy with a face scar.

The day before he made the biggest mistake of his life.

Kuroiwa was confident that having faced death once meant his sense of fear had gone up in smokes, but the younger man's mood seemed infectious. His body broke in cold sweat like the day he was stuffed into the police car which Garshield's peons had undoubtedly rigged. Like the day he lied to Endou Daisuke about being unable to take part in a match Raimon was never going to make it to. Like the day his mother went missing, never to be seen again.

His breath got caught in his throat and he coughed violently. He threw a reply, posing like the stubborn confident man he could only pretend to be. "Tomorrow, the whole galaxy will know of Earth's soccer."

As he made to leave, Gouenji looked over his shoulder. "Time is running out," he said with a hardened gaze. "If the world does end tomorrow, I think we should live today without regrets."

-

Hibiki glanced at the man's way. "What did you come here for then?" He had little hopes for a straight answer. Honesty wasn't the man's best attribute.

The man let out a strained chuckle, fixed his glasses, and steeled his voice, "Hibiki, I came here to say farewell."

The former goalkeeper stared dumbfounded. "What are you talking about?" His heart was troubled. He was convinced Kageyama was dead and then the man himself waltzes in and says something outrageous. "Where are you going?" he tried.

"Far, far away," the man responded. "A place with no return."

"I see. . ."

"I will be going to share the wonders of soccer."

These words triggered an alarm in Hibiki's mind. "Have you not learned anything, Kageyama?! Has your hatred for the sport not been satisfied yet?!" His words got caught off as he grabbed his chest, beads of sweat falling down his forehead.

Kageyama stared impassively, speaking after Hibiki collected himself. "The reason why you're in this place?"

Hibiki grinned. "I'm getting surgery tomorrow. This stupid heart of mine cannot hold much longer."

If Hibiki wasn't sure of Kageyama's personality, he would think the man's shuffling was due to awkwardness.

"You always kept your heart open. You got hurt too often. That's why it got tired so fast."

The message flew over Hibiki's head. He grinned with pride. "I have no regrets."

The long haired man's expression became severe. "What are the odds?"

Hibiki let out a snort. "Not high. Spare me the lecture."

"You never know if a miracle could occur."

Hibiki smiled. "Since when were you a believer?"

The long haired man didn't answer, pushing up his glasses. Noticing his hunched shoulders, Hibiki was starting to become convinced that the man was acting more odd than usual.

"The match between Raimon and Teikoku."

"Huh?"

"It was impossible for such a team to win. At best, it was too early."

Hibiki laughed. "Didn't I tell you you never know the results of the match until the very end?"

"Indeed, you did."

He knew he should be suspicious of Kageyama's presence and doubt his motive for coming here. He should show the man nothing but spite, end the conversation, kick him out the room, and go back to sleep.

He knew all too well the effects of hatred. It was an all-consuming force that pittied people against one of another. Hatred was a choice Hibiki actively sought to avoid, but he had never been sure he could take it one step further and choose forgiveness.

Daisuke-san had always been soft towards Kageyama. In his death bed, he asked Hibiki to forgive himself and to help his former teammates find peace. Daisuke-san never blamed Kageyama for conspiring against their safety. Even after Hibiki learned the whole story, he struggled with making peace with it.

When he spoke with Natsumi a few months ago, something changed within him.

It was like witnessing the same tragedy all those years ago. Of the people dear to him being consumed by hatred. The proud young woman's gaze burned intensely as she recounted the tale of her investigation of Kageyama's past. She had the responsibility to protect her people and carry its past. Naturally, she had to be informed of these details no matter how small.

The tragedies that tied the Raimons and the Endous had a single mastermind. Someone Hibiki could give first hand account for.

Ever the workaholic, she took her work home. It seemed her husband was worried about her but she tried to downplay her grief.

"He's not the sharpest tool in the shed but he has his moments that always catch me off guard." She blamed her carelessness for letting her husband learn about her work. She smiled bitterly, auburn eyes quivering from the effort of holding back her tears. "He said, 'we can't change the past. We can only keep moving forward towards the future we build everyday.'"

Hibiki stared at the man on the threshold. This was a chance he thought was taken away from him.

"Kageyama, listen closely." The man in question visibly tensed. His posture barely shifted but it gave Hibiki the impression of a cornered animal. "I cannot forgive for what you did back then. You left your friends and teammates to die while you saved your own skin." He gritted his teeth, chest aching. "I learned about your relationship with Garshield after I thought you had died. Dai... Daisuke-san told me. He never blamed you for it. Until his last moment, he wanted us to forgive you. But— I can't. Our lives changed drastically after that. That's not your fault but— I can't."

Silence stretched. Words kept rolling of Hibiki's tongue like a broken dam, fifty years of thoughts and feelings finally finding an outlet.

"I can't forgive you but I can't hate you either. When I think how you were just a child back then, I... as captain, it was my job to protect everyone. I can't help but think if I had just tried harder—"

"Hibiki, you were also a kid back then."

"I know that! But Daisuke-san asked me personally. We all knew you we were in deep pain but we couldn't do anything for you. So many times I believed that you caused the accident was your revenge on us. For doing nothing."

Kageyama fixed his glasses, silent as a tomb.

Hibiki groaned, the pain his chest increasing. His sight was enveloped in little pulsing dots and he felt lightheaded. He had to call the nurse but that would mean the end of their conversation.

From far away, he heard Kageyama's voice, "Don't force yourself."

No, there was one thing, just one more thing he had to convey. His chest heaved as he pushed out the words. "I'm sure... Daisuke-san... for at least that... would want you to forgive yourself too."

Soon after, he heard loud steps approach the room. The nurse slid the door open as light from the hallway poured in. Hibiki turned to the sound, the man nowhere to be seen.