Chapter 18: The View From The Bottom
Bumping into the girl was the last thing Kiyoshi expected at school despite evading her being impossible; their prime objective was the same. He also didn't expect she was actively seeking him, dutifully willing to relay a message. But it was more unexpected her body language had lost most of the visible tension and displeasure towards Kiyoshi himself.
Nevertheless, her tone kept its usual formality and seriousness but now it carried purpose. Like the rare instances Mom asked a banal favor, depended on him for what she was humanly incapable of. Small tasks honestly, she could have done them if she had the time.
The girl had something important to inform him. As Kiyoshi listened however, he had to snap his focus from the uncommon emphasis she placed in some words and shifts in her grave tone. He wasn't an aural person as far as he knew but his ears were drawn to the vocal stimuli nevertheless.
As the girl made eye contact, pausing like an earnest politician giving a persuasive speech and asking rhetoric questions, Kiyoshi felt small and helpless like a dull child. She inevitably reminded him too much of his heavy-handed mother and the he uncanny resemblance triggered his flight response. But of course, fear had seized his feet and clamped his throat shut, bearing the entirety of the girl's words. After Sumire finished, Kiyoshi realized staying was necessary. For his own sake.
⚽️🌸⚽️
Kumoto-senpai called me to the student council room to reveal the true role we have in this issue. A story nobody but him--perhaps Kensou-senpai to a lesser extent-- knew and has lived. There is. . . a bigger fight happening behind the scenes. To be honest it is hard to admit it. A warrior will have one story to tell and the emperor another but it is the latter that is passed down in history.
That is this kind of battle. Do you understand?
Alright. . .
. . .
. . .
. . .
We underestimated the president. Kumoto-senpai is much more prepared. He knew--he expected for that--Kageyama. . .-san to make his move. This is not. . . we are not the first ones; since the Tatsumakis moved onto high school there have been three other attempts, other spies before us.
Did you know the absent sibling is no more? And that the twins confided the student council president to guard the manuals because they suspected their creation was related to his death? Adults easily succumb to bribes, but a child does not see the same value in money.
Kumoto-san is the younger brother of one of the previous council presidents who had to deal with that--Kageyama-san's spies. Kumoto-san himself decided to protect those manuals with his life.
In a way. . . he is our enemy. However, if we are being honest, it is us who are against the one protecting a ten-year-old promise--we are working for that man after all. Kumoto-senpai will not support us, and he will not give the manual to any one of our acquaintances either.
. . . Why won't he hand me the manual either? Because there is a possibility I will hand it to that man. Even when I told him my goal is to help the soccer team, it doesn't absolve the fact I am a spy. He doesn't care what we are placing at stake for our personal objectives.
. . . Yes, perhaps he was kind to you. He seemed like a reasonable man with a sense of justice.
I don't believe you should trust him, Ryuugamine-senpai. He is against us and he has marked us as obstacles. Kumoto-senpai wants to defeat us. That's why Kensou-senpai is involved to this extent. That's why you were under his power and that's why the president was overlooking all of Kensou-senpai's dubious actions.
Player two? Video games? Erm, perhaps. This war is not between us; it is between Kumoto-san and that man. A siege for Tornado Legend of sorts. We are. . . warriors.
He tried to convince me to resign as that man's spy. I had to decline. I don't believe he won't attempt against you. I am telling you this to warn you. If he obtained control of someone as dangerous and vile and Kensou-senpai, I do not know what he is capable of doing to us.
⚽️🐰⚽️
After they awkwardly parted ways, Kiyoshi's first reaction to the girl's warning was to deny the president's attitude. After all, he was good to Kiyoshi: he was concerned about Kiyoshi's comfort, disclosed information that could have overturned Kensou's abuse, and when that failed, he punished the guy himself. But as Kiyoshi walked out of the building, a corner of his mind had accepted the truth. It was silly to resist because he had no logical reason to do so.
A forced sense of responsibility and obligation had nudged him to tell the girl about Hideyoshi's suicide, his mind filling with the dead boy as its new default. Kiyoshi felt an affinity towards him and spent the previous night imagining his thoughts, his pain, and his downward spiral of despair that pushed him to take his own life. He barely slept.
"Senpai!" Kiyoshi flinched at the booming voice and followed its origin, face flushing at the sight of the boy who was staring earnestly at him with glowing eyes. His heart thumped loudly, and he pulled his string bag at the intensity of a warmth spreading on his chest like splashed water.
"Great, you haven't left yet." the boy said as he approached, body immediately relaxing. Kiyoshi's grip tightened, and he noticed he was pushing down a smile. He relaxed his lips slightly. Gouenji-kun's smile brightened his surroundings, a small and warm campfire.
"Um, yeah. . . I'm here," the words came out tender, unlike him. He couldn't look at the boy in the eye, this time out of embarrassment. His smile was probably stupid, but he couldn't hold it back.
The boy suddenly tensed and became antsy. Infecting Kiyoshi, he fidgeted, mind racing with exciting hunches about Gouenji-kun's current presence, smile growing at the exciting romantic implications in the boy's hesitation. A date? Was Gouenji-kun going to confess? He mentally slapped himself with a heartfelt internal chuckle and an effortless denial. He held back a sharp squeal as he squeezed his eyes shut.
"Senpai, um. . . do you like soccer?" Gouenji-kun asked. It seemed it wasn't his primary question, but wanted to ease Kiyoshi into it.
"Uhn," Kiyoshi nodded, lips trembling out of thrill.
The boy's gaze flickered. He placed a fist on his mouth before lowering it to speak softly. "Are you serious about it?"
Kiyoshi's lips stilled, and he gave a firm nod.
"Erm. . ." The boy's features tensed, a frown creasing his thin brows. He raised his eyes and stared at Kiyoshi with wavering but decidedly marron orbs. "Would you consider joining the soccer club?"
Kiyoshi blinked over and over, ragging thoughts and a mixed bundle of feelings coming to an abrupt stop. "Sorry what?" abruptly escaped his lips.
The boy's shoulders dropped as if Kiyoshi's reaction was a rejection. "I know it's almost impossible. But I don't think we can beat Teikoku with the current team! The Mukata triplets are impossible to work with. Our defense is fine with more work but if they don't play with the team we don't have enough firepower!"
Kiyoshi was amazed a first-year was aware of the faults in his own team. The Mukata triplets were no better as part of the team than part of the class; they might think they don't need anyone else if they have each other. Kiyoshi thought the same with Keima as his only friend.
"You said you were serious about it. And I was told you weren't in any team," Gouenji-kun said carefully.
"Who told you?" Kiyoshi asked, the most logical step in the conversation.
"The student council president." He glanced at Kiyoshi, "I thought you would be there."
Kiyoshi didn't reply immediately, an alarm drowning his thoughts. Bad, this was bad. Weren't the girl's words getting to him? Was he imagining the connection like all of his fantasies?
"Can you think about it?" Gouenji-kun asked slowly as if forcing out the words. "I haven't told the Coach so. . ."
"Uhn, yeah." Kiyoshi nodded absentmindedly, feeling his stomach open to a pit. "I'll think about it."
The way back home was a blur. All he could remember was the cold dread and light nausea. The possibility of the president being somehow related to Gouenji-kun's sudden invitation seemed so farfetched his mind had gone absolutely blank. Being called to the student council room the following day only worsened Kiyoshi's nausea.
The president's previous professional smile seemed to hide a deep abyss of untold schemes. When Kiyoshi carefully closed the door, he had the feeling he was cutting off his only means to prevent his own death. Of his sanity or purity, he wasn't sure yet.
The View From The Bottom | End