Chapter 25: The Tangled Thread of Fate
Kiyoshi's body went cold when he saw Kensou waiting outside the classroom after classes were over, recalling what he had neglected to do the day before.
The President wasn't in a better mood than the escort. Kiyoshi lowered his head and apologized, mustering his most honest tone. What else could he say after all? His words were waved off as if his actions were a minor problem. Of course they weren't.
"Have you decided?" the third year inquired. "Will you leave your commander?"
Kiyoshi looked down and grasped his arms. "No, I won't," he answered.
"Was your life at Teikoku more fulfilling than this one?"
He bit his lip. "No, but I don't have the confidence I can change here."
"You believe you can change there?" Kiyoshi shook his head. He heard a sigh. "It wasn't enough?"
"No, it was enough!" Kiyoshi gulped. "It's my fault. That's all. I-I don't think I'm capable of changing." He curled into himself. "So I have no reason to be here. It'll just be the same--maybe worse."
The President didn't reply.
"I'm sorry."
"The student council has no reason to shelter you anymore. After you cross that door, you aren't allowed to come back unless you are summoned." The president placed his arms on the table. "Do you believe you can get your hands on the last manual after this?"
"I guess I'll have to see my options," Kiyoshi said, unsure. He walked out of the room quietly, hearing Kensou expose the truth before closing the door shut.
"I told you. He's a wimp. He doesn't have the guts to do anything for himself."
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The light from the laptop's screen flickered in the darkness. Kiyoshi laid on his bed, watching the Kanto preliminary finals. Teikoku was skilled and overwhelming, their passes sharper than Mikage's but their teamwork was less solid. Teikoku had a few first-years apart from Kidou-san--Sakuma Jirou, a forward and the goalkeeper Genda Koujirou to name a few.
They are hot, Kiyoshi thought. His eyeballs throbbed from the piercing light but he didn't twitch.
Nagging the corner of his mind like a piece of food on his teeth, he knew something was missing. It made him restless and miserable.
His skin shuddered pleasantly. Kiyoshi looked down, finding his hand between his shorts. Crap. Should I do it? He looked at the screen and winced. Visuals, fantasies. He might never meet the first team personally, and if he was being honest he had thought worse for the past year.
The solitude and quietness of his room reassured him no one would judge him and he asserted his loneliness was the cause. Kiyoshi closed his eyes and made himself feel a little better.
Mother came home around nine p.m. They sat on the table after he microwaved the dishes. "I'm going back to Teikoku. After the exchange is over," Kiyoshi said, peeking at his mother's figure.
"I see," she replied between mouthfuls. Surprisingly, her apathy reassured him. Seems she didn't have any expectations so he didn't feel any pressure by rejecting the deal. Saying this was easier than he thought. Nothing changing felt safe.
After washing the dishes, Kiyoshi returned to his room, took his laptop to the desk and sat on the chair. His eyes fell on a folded piece of paper bound with a pink clip. "What's this?" He removed the clip. "Oh, the bentou." Reading the ingredients and imagining the lunch box made his stomach grumble. Dining late hadn't stirred his appetite, not the first time to be honest.
Kiyoshi rose the paper against the ceiling light. "Maybe I should do it. Yeah, I should! Kidou-san just won the qualifying match!" He ran downstairs and compared the list with ingredients in the pantry. He had to buy them back of course.
Should I send Kidou-san a message at this hour? It's pretty late. I should ask when he's free instead. And so he did before making an overnight trip to the convenience store. By then a reply had come, Kidou-san was willing to meet tomorrow after practice. Kiyoshi pumped his fist high.
"Maybe I will have a boyfriend before summer." He giggled to himself. It was okay to dream.
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Kiyoshi patted himself on the back for having the courage to waltz back to Teikoku with a present for his crush. His head ached a bit for lack of sleep, but he was sure the bentou was delicious. He grinned slightly. 'The way to a man's heart is the stomach alright.'
Kidou-san appeared half an hour after practice ended; Kiyoshi had visited the spot where he used to watch them, wearing his Teikoku uniform to blend in as the younger boy said. It seemed like an eternity since he saw Kidou-san in his Teikoku uniform and red cape. Kiyoshi wheezed internally. He's so hot.
"U-um, congratulations on qualifying for the nationals!" Kiyoshi said with a smile. "As I said on the message, I made a bentou." He raised a small bag with the Tupperware inside. Suddenly it sounds stupid.
Kidou-san accepted the thoughtful gesture and took a seat. Opening it with slight hesitation, his gaping mouth ultimately told Kiyoshi the boy was impressed. "It looks great."
"Th-thank you!" He observed the boy clap his hands together and thank for the food before taking the fated first bite. As if time had stopped, the boy didn't move. Then he chewed slowly, inevitably savoring the taste.
"It's delicious," he said in awe, snatching another piece of deep fried pork cutlet with brown sauce.
Kiyoshi smiled proudly to himself. There was nothing better than seeing his cooking appreciated.
"When did you learn to cook?" Kidou-san asked.
"A few years ago." He brooded for a more accurate answer. "After my parents--se-separated. . . "
"You must have been young."
"I was a third-grader, I think," he muttered.
Kidou-san ate heartily. He thanked Kiyoshi again and promised to give the box back after it was cleaned. "I hope you don't mind if I ask about the mission," he said.
Kiyoshi tensed, the corners of his lips tugging down. "Um. . . why?" To his surprise, Kidou-san shifted a certain way. He was. . . nervous?
"It's not exactly about the mission." The suspense made Kiyoshi's heart beat faster. "Did you know this isn't the first time we meet?"
Kiyoshi blinked. "We. . . met at the beginning of the year. When I applied for the main team."
Kidou-san shook his head. "Before that."
Kiyoshi felt his lower jaw fall. The younger boy turned his way and chuckled at the sight, gracefully hiding it like a kind prince out of a fairytale. And we have a past. Are we destined to be?
"Do you remember a night with warm lights, elaborate suits, and dresses?"
Kiyoshi took a moment to reply, echoing the words. "I think so. . . I think I wore a suit when I was little."
"Your family was invited to a formal party with many businessmen." Yes, Kiyoshi recalled his father worked in that industry, and his mother argued about his work at times. "That day, you caught a girl's eye. Yet it wasn't enough to prevent what happened to your family."
Kiyoshi found the story strange, but the boy quickly waved his words off with his hand and a strained chuckle. "I know this sounds odd. I can't help thinking about you two," he said with a bittersweet smile.
"Us? Which us?" Me and Miyu-chan?
"You and Sumire."
"You are lying." Kiyoshi gasped. "I-I'm sorry! Don't you. . . think you might be wrong?" He and the girl, friends? The idea made him sick. She was so similar to Arisugawa the thought of being nice to her was like betraying his past. "I would just be her pet," he spat.
"You could have ended in my place, yes. Sumire wanted to care for someone." Kidou-san grasped his hands in a serious posture. "I'm sure she still does. That's why she's helping Kidokawa."
To make herself feel better after what she endured? How desperate does someone have to be to pretend kindness and inflate their ego? Kiyoshi narrowed his eyes, a certain someone else intruding in his thoughts.
"I always thought Sumire wasn't suited for this type of work." Kidou-san paused. His face twitched as if holding a grievous emotion back. "Yet I can't stop looking at her back, waiting for her to look over." Kiyoshi noticed the shake of his shoulders, almost unnoticeable on the faint lights. What did all of this mean?
Kiyoshi muttered the boy's name and outstretched his hand, stroking the boy's back.
"As long as she's around, I don't think I can't see anyone else." He turned to Kiyoshi who retracted his palm. He could almost see behind those glasses, doe eyes tempting his composture. He gulped. "Do you understand?" Kiyoshi nodded fervently. "What do you think of her?"
He looked down. "She reminds me of someone I despise." She also had something Kiyoshi wanted and she didn't want to let go. "Sometimes, it feels like girls--or women--take everything I love." When Kidou-san wants to be free from her chains as well, why should I let her keep what should be mine?
The Tangled Thread of Fate | End