Piercing The Clouds Part 1
Like every other morning, Kiyoshi waked groggily. The world looked hazy and lackluster and his temple throbbed with a dull pain. Right, he had cried himself to sleep. The thought of being used still weighted on his heart. Even if he had gotten used to the monotony as far as giving up in almost every aspect of his life, a diminute fraction wished for some extraordinary event to turn it around, and the Coach had done a splendid job with that.
"Kidokawa Seishuu. . ." He said slowly. The reality hadn't sunk.
Kiyoshi got out of bed after a psychological battle, sniffed, and cleaned his cheeks stained with tears. He pet the white bunny plushie. "I don't want to be used," he said in a quiet voice that got lost in the stillness of his room. He had been played, completely and cleanly. His love for soccer was used against him, and an all too familiar feeling made him break into tears.
People were filthy.
He returned to his room after breakfast and, still in his pajamas, threw himself back to the bed. He could sleep for a couple of hours and do some homework, then leave towards the library to check if Summer, Fireworks, and My Corpse had been returned. But he wasn't in a hurry. His body was heavy, the little strength he mustered was to turn himself around.
Staring at the ceiling, he replayed his conversation with the Coach. The Football Frontier was in a couple of weeks. Sending a spy meant the info he wanted from Kidokawa Seishuu was important. Teikoku had been champion for forty years so maybe something in Kidokawa's team threatens that record. But he couldn't be sure.
Before the worries of yesterday crashed on him, he shot up from the bed at a loud noise, eyes landing on the vibrating cell phone on his desk. His mother was downstairs so she couldn't be the one on the other side of the line. But wrong numbers were common from time to time.
He placed the phone carefully in his ear, hugging the plushie for reassurance. "H-Hello," his voice slipped out with unjustified suspicion.
"Hey, Kiyoshi, it's Keima. We are meeting with the usual group near the station in a couple of hours. Do you want to come?"
His body tensed, a sense of nostalgia washing over him. It was Keima. His smile faded when he remembered last year's event. But he didn't find a legitimate reason to refuse apart from a guilty conscience and postponed his plans for the afternoon.
". . .S-Sure."
"Great! See you there!" The line cut and the silence set awkwardly. Kiyoshi was conflicted with his decision. Keima, Kirishima Keima. He had pushed him aside because it was the right thing to do. His sadness had caused him to break up with his girlfriend, and he couldn't afford someone he cared about to keep suffering because of him. If Keima was by his side, he would only keep hurting him. But he was happy Keima reached out after so long.
Kiyoshi hugged his knees with heavy shoulders and sighed. He really wanted to see him.
He went to the bathroom and washed his face thoroughly. His eyes were a little red in the corners and his face was pale but otherwise, he looked fine enough. If only he could smile like he used to.
He left the house half an hour later in his usual attire. A pair of jeans and sneakers, and a sweater on top. He decided against the cap and made his way to the station.
Arriving at their meeting place with a million worries and a heavy stomach, his eyes darted around the shop until they set on a young group.
"Kiyoshi!" His friend called out. The corners of his lips curled up. He greeted the group shyly and sat beside his friend. His hands were clammy and his face was hot. He had to calm himself down before he said something stupid.
After the table filled, the conversation got livelier. Kiyoshi cracked a small smile every now and then, sometimes adding a comment to the topic. When the conversation shifted to the most recent news in the soccer world, in particular, last year's Football Frontier, that Kiyoshi felt at home.
Like him, his teammates had their eyes on Kidou Yuuto, current captain and playmaker of Teikoku--although it may be an exaggeration. They were commenting on the first year's plays and tactics while Kiyoshi listened with excitement, remembering the times he observed the midfielder kicking the ball expertly as if he could see every movement without looking. Anyway, Kidou and Teikoku Gakuen were a favorite. Naturally, his teammates asked if he knew him. Kiyoshi tried to explain Kidou-san's style without looking like a creep. From there, the mood rose.
However, even if Keima was at his side, he couldn't work up the courage or find the right moment to talk to him. Kiyoshi blocked the boy's face with his hair, jumping at every of his sudden movements.
Hours passed, and his former teammates left one by one.
"I'll be going too," Itsuki, one of Keima's friends, said.
"Me too." Keima stood up simultaneously. "What will you do, Kiyoshi?"
"Ah-um. . . I'll go." He didn't want to be left alone when the place was getting busier. Keima nodded and the three left the building.
He parted with the boy, then looked at Keima from the corner of his eye. Their houses were about in the same direction. He couldn't ignore him or run away.
"Let's go." Keima smiled and started walking. Kiyoshi followed silently, unsure if he should say something, apologize, or panic. He was tempted to speak, but he was tongue-tied.
"It was fun," Keima said casually after they crossed the road. "I didn't know you knew so much about Kidou Yuuto."
"Y-Yeah." Well, shit, it was obvious he was nervous. Kiyoshi wanted to facepalm. Taking a deep breath, he focused on his breathing and exhaled. "I saw him practice."
The other part of him that longed for company was calm. Kiyoshi was also happy, more than he had been the past year. He cared for everyone in the team, and they had cared for him when he needed others the most despite the jerk he was. But more than them, it was Keima that he missed the most, the one that pulled him around and took initiative for the fun things they did together. Perhaps being with someone that makes you happy is worth the pain the sides cause to each other. A year ago, he had betrayed his own words and it was worth it. But he changed his mind when he accepted coming here.
"A real friendship is one that allows people to hurt each other."
"Ah, I remember that!"
Kiyoshi jumped, his cheeks taking a red tint. He didn't intend to say that aloud. "I was remembering what I said back then," he said, looking away.
"I don't think you are wrong," Keima said softly. "People hurt each without meaning to."
Kiyoshi met his eyes. Those jade green eyes that gently gazed back warmed his insides. Keima didn't blame him, neither was he angry. He never blamed him. This wasn't a surprise, but because of that, Kiyoshi felt he had to be blamed and be angry at. So if Keima didn't do it, he did. He hated himself more than anyone else, so it was easy.
Kiyoshi looked down. ". . . I'm sorry," he whispered. "I shouldn't have pushed you away."
He found Keima smiling when he lifted his head. "I should apologize too. I wasn't the best friend."
Kiyoshi shook his head. "You couldn't help it. I was being an idiot."
". . . I want to ask you to forgive me." Keima lowered his head, hinting he was apologizing because of him. "I understand if you don't."
The words took him by surprise. It seemed there was another meaning behind them. Sure, their relationship had their downs, but Keima's voice sounded more apologetic than it should.
His friend dug his hands into his pockets, and his masculine features scrunched. "I depended too much on you. When you weren't with me I was weak. I realized how much you meant in my life after I lost you." His voice hardened. "I don't want to see you as Kin anymore. You are my best friend, Ryuugamine Kiyoshi. I won't treat you like a kid anymore."
His mind went black, surprised at his friend's change in attitude and solemn tone. Kiyoshi wasn't sure if he was apologizing for seeing him as Kin's replacement--the weak one Keima would always protect--but if he hadn't been fine, they wouldn't be friends in the first place. However, as the weak one, he had noticed too, yesterday's events invading his mind. Without Keima he was even weaker, easy to control when threatened. His friend had changed and Kiyoshi felt he was being left behind. "Thanks," he said sadly, accepting the apology.
Keima shot a smile of relief, his shoulders shifting to a confident posture. "So. . . how's Teikoku? Did you make it?"
Kiyoshi heard his teeth grit, the wounds he tried to forget starting to ache. ". . . No." And now he was ordered to spy on another team if he wants a chance to play for Teikoku. He brought his eyes back when he felt a warm hand on his shoulder.
"Are you going to try again?" Keima asked with concern.
". . . Yeah." His voice sounded lower than usual. No matter how much Kiyoshi shook his head, the cloud over him didn't seem to dissipate. Moreover, he was angry at himself and Keima who salted the scar. There was a sour taste in his mouth. He couldn't keep either promise to himself.