HOPE DEFERRED
By Lady Addiction

FANDOM: Whistle!

PAIRING: None

RATING: PG

WARNINGS: Angst, spoilers for manga ending (Vol 24), depressing?

DISCLAIMER: Whistle! is a fantastic manga by Daisuke Higuchi. I have absolutely no connection with it. But please don't take, copy, or post this fic anywhere without permission. Thanks.

SUMMARY: Sometimes, even the strongest of hearts falter.

AUTHOR NOTES: Eto, I can barely read the manga so I apologize for any errors. Hope y'all like it. Please let me know what you think.


WWWW

He would never say it out loud but he hated the rehabilitation center.

He hated its white-clothed physiotherapists with their pseudo-cheerful grins. He despised the sinister machines that beeped, blinked, and whirred around him – useless gadgetry. He loathed the whiteness of everything with the pinpoints of obnoxious brightness brought by inspirational posters, fresh flowers, and a variety of exercise devices.

He had never really hated anything quite like this.

"Kazamatsuri-kun, we need to get you started on these stretches," his physiotherapist was telling him. He smiled at Minami-sensei, squeezing his eyes shut so he wouldn't have to look at that face and show how much he wanted to just hobble as fast as he could out of the center and never come back.

He kept the smile on his face even as gentle hands worked with his left leg, the wash of pain tingeing the blackness behind his lids a dark red. Mechanically, he followed each verbal instruction – stretching and relaxing, lifting and lowering, bending and straightening.

But more than the rehabilitation center, he hated himself. He detested how weak-minded he was now, how so lacking in will power and energy. Kazamatsuri Shou was the byword for persistence, for concentration, for confidence that hard work will overcome all odds.

Yet, how could he maintain that drive when it would be all for nothing? The doctors were pretty clear that he would never be able to play soccer again.

Night after night, after that devastating revalation of the surgeon, he had lain in bed telling himself that it wasn't true. That he only needed to work hard, to do his best during the rehabilitation. Then his knee would heal and he would be able to play soccer again.

But three months had already passed and he saw little improvement. Rehabilitation was so painful that sometimes he had to bite his lip to keep from screaming.

Then there were the regular chats with his physiotherapist, who encouraged him to work harder, to keep trying. But every time he mentioned soccer, he couldn't help but notice the dimming in Minami-sensei's eyes, the sudden tightness around his mouth, the things the therapist never says.

"Okay, Kazamatsuri-kun, please come over here and we'll do the usual repetitions."

His friends had believed that he would get better. They had visited him regularly when he was in the hospital before and after surgery, keeping the atmosphere upbeat and lively. He was warmly welcomed during the soccer club meetings and practices.

But time ran on and he began to notice the quiet that so softly descended when he was with them. The eyes that had shone so bright with hope were now darker, tinted with sorrow and pity. Conversations began to revolve around everything, except soccer.

He was beginning to endarken their lives.

Hope had kept him going for so long. Hope had motivated him, warmed him, cheered him.

But there was so little to hope for now in his situation.

"Once more, Kazamatsuri-kun."

Hope was a stupid, stupid liar. Hope was an effervescent dream that dissipated when he needed it most.

Life, Kazamatsuri thought, was trying to tell him something. Maybe it had been trying to say it since he started on this path, but he had been too stubborn to listen.

Maybe he was not too stubborn to listen now.

-FIN-