Kakei on football, self-denial, and Mizumachi. Spoilers for most everything involving the Poseidon boys, along with a liberal sprinkling of heavy-handed metaphors.
Lessons In Drowning
When he was eight years old, Kakei Shun almost drowned. He will never forget what it felt like: the irresistible drag of the water, how easily it tugged him down, tumbled him end over end so he couldn't tell which way was up, how his lungs burned and his only thought was I'm never going to breathe again. He still remembers the utter helplessness of it, how the more he struggled the worse it got, and that's the thing about drowning, the thing he learned in those few, endless moments: there's no way to fight it. He doesn't think it's something he could ever forget.
---
America is too big. Not just the country: everything here seems to be on a larger scale than it is in Japan. Cars, food - even people; Kakei is tall for his age, but Americans are louder and pushier and seem to take up twice as much space through sheer force of personality. Everything is overwhelming, a language he doesn't speak as well as he'd like, a new school and new people and a new city to adjust to. And here his long reach isn't enough to make him a good football player; he's being left behind by his team mates, and the coach is always yelling - or worse, saying he can do better - and it makes Kakei angry because he can't, he's doing the best he can and it's not good enough.
He feels like he's struggling to keep his head above water, tight panicked sensation in his chest, and sometimes it's hard to breathe for minutes at a time, long stretches where he's sure he's drowning on dry land. It's all too much.
So he screws up, as big and as badly as he can. He's not going to succeed here, so he might as well fail as spectacularly as possible; he quits the team, cuts classes, starts hanging out with the high school slackers who like his quiet arrogance and his competence in a fight. Smoking, drinking, staying out all night and there is concern from all corners, meetings with the principal and his host family, and Kakei reckons it's just a matter of time until they decide to wash their hands of him and send him back home. And if he's sent away, even in disgrace, it's not like he gave up, not like he asked to leave. As far as he's concerned, it can't happen soon enough.
It's late one night when he first hears the rumour, sitting on the hood of someone's car with a bottle in his hand, frustration and resentment twisting in his gut. The guys he hangs out with know when he's in one of those moods, know to leave him alone unless they want a fist in the face, and Kakei always seems to be spoiling for a fight these days. Some girl who didn't know any better tried to talk to him earlier, but Kakei snapped at her until she went away and no one's gone near him since. (There are always girls hanging around, wearing too much make-up and not enough clothes; they think Kakei's interesting because he's foreign, different, it's cool, and when the guys ask why he doesn't take advantage of that, Kakei can only shrug.) He's not even listening to the conversation behind him until someone says:
"Hey, Shun, you used to play football, didn't you?"
"Yeah," he answers, "What about it?"
And they tell him about the star player from Notre Dame, the mysterious faceless genius said to be a Japanese exchange student. They were wondering if Kakei might have any idea who he is. Kakei doesn't, and he doesn't care, he doubts it's even true anyway. No Japanese player could compete here in America, never mind be the team's ace. Definitely not.
Definitely, except curiosity gets the better of Kakei and he finds himself at a game, not quite believing he actually came here, waste of time, he tells himself, there's no way. And then he sees Eyeshield, and everything changes, like a light switch flipping on. Afterwards, all he can think is I want to do that and somehow he knows - he knows - that he can. He knows he can make it in this country, and he knows he'll have to, if he wants to face that guy on the field.
He rejoins the football club the next day.
---
The lifeguard who pulled him out of the water that day had sun-browned skin and bleached blond hair, and when Shun opened his eyes he grinned whitely down and said: "Hey, good to see you". Shun tried to smile back, but lost it to a coughing fit that ended with him retching, sea water spewing out of his mouth and nose, and the lifeguard rubbed his back reassuringly and then rode with Shun and his distraught mother in the ambulance, grinning at Shun whenever he caught his eye. And Shun was probably too young for a real crush, but at the time he thought that the lifeguard was the most amazing person in the world. In a way, he probably always will.
---
He comes back to Japan full of passion and determination, because he might not have had the chance to go up against Eyeshield in America, but he has the feeling that if he's good enough, the promise Eyeshield made him will be kept. It's easy for him to take control of Kyoshin's team, because the older guys, sure, they enjoy the game but they don't have the hunger that Kakei has, that he needs in his team. He tells them he intends to reach the top, tells everyone he can, but nobody seems to really understand what he means, not until one day in the hallway when a lanky blond guy latches onto his words and demands to know his goals. National success, Kakei tells him, and sees the guy's face light up. That's how he meets Mizumachi Kengo, and from the very first day they practice together something clicks in Kakei's head, like he was meant to be on a team with this guy, and it's amazing. They're amazing.
He's always worried about it, though, because Mizumachi expects just as much as Kakei does, and expects Kakei to be the one to lead them. Kakei lured him from the swim team with promises of being the best, promises he's not entirely certain he can deliver on, and if the football team disappoints like the swim team did, who's to say Mizumachi won't move on again? He doesn't know if the team can be good enough, if he can be good enough. They're struggling, floundering, and Kakei feels that tight drowning feeling again, that fear of failure, of sinking, and he knows that if he does he won't be able to hold onto Mizumachi. Mizu will always float, and Kakei can't lose him, because they're perfect together.
They make it work, though, pull the team together and drag them upwards, and with his self-appointed apprentices and Mizumachi at his side, Kakei actually starts to think they could make it to the Christmas Bowl. They could make it all the way.
One day after training they're sprawled on the locker room bench after everyone else has gone; they're both too exhausted to move and Mizumachi's not even dressed yet, sitting there in his underwear with his knee nudged comfortably against Kakei's. (The guy has no sense of personal boundaries to go along with his complete lack of public decency, and really, Kakei tells himself, the occasional glance is impossible to avoid. It's no big deal. Just like it's no big deal that Kakei's leg is tingling where it touches Mizu's, all the sensation in his body shoved into those few square inches of skin; no big deal, and definitely not something he wants to think about right now.)
"Hey Kakei?"
"Yeah?"
"We're really going to do it, huh?"
Kakei is so tired he can hardly turn his head, but when he meets Mizumachi's eager grin he can't help but smile in return. Mizu's enthusiasm is infectious, and suddenly Kakei feels he could run a hundred laps, no problem, could swim an ocean if he had to.
"Yeah," he says, "I think we are." And right now, with Mizumachi beside him, he really, honestly believes it.
---
Since that day, Kakei has never really trusted the water. He swims well - his parents made sure he had lessons - but he doesn't much enjoy it. He can never quite forget how quickly water can turn treacherous, how powerless and weak it made him feel. Kakei prides himself on his self-control, on steering his own path and commanding his own fate, and that day serves as a reminder of how little control he has, in the face of the vast and unpredictable. In the end, that's always been his only real fear.
---
After the Deimon match, it feels to Kakei like a door closing. He knows it's irrational, that he's got next year and Mizumachi still on the team, that they can try again, but part of him can't help feeling like it's all over. He's not sure what gives him away, but Mizu must see something of it in his face, because the next day he turns up on Kakei's doorstep at a ridiculously early hour, grabs him by the arm and proclaims: "Come on, we're going swimming!"
Kakei goes along with it, partly because he can't seem to help himself going along with Mizu's crazy suggestions, and partly because he's still most of the way asleep and too muzzy to protest. They take a bus to the middle of nowhere and then walk for far too long to reach their destination: a small rocky cove with dark water lapping against dark boulders, flashes of bright blue where the sunlight strikes the waves. Mizumachi wastes no time stripping off and diving in, despite the morning chill and the fact that the water must be freezing, bobs to the surface with his hair plastered to his neck and huffs sea spray like a whale.
"Wooh!" he shouts, "That's good!" and then ducks down again. Kakei smiles at his antics; he's more an otter than a whale, rolling and splashing, floating on his back, then doing a length of the cove with long, confident strokes.
"You coming in or what?" he demands when he makes his way back to where Kakei's perched on a flat boulder, enjoying the warmth of the sun and watching Mizumachi.
"I'm not much for swimming," Kakei tells him, and Mizu hauls himself out of the water, collapses on the rock beside him.
"Did I ever tell you how I joined the swim team?" he asks suddenly, and Kakei can't help smiling. He didn't, but Kakei knows of course - everyone knows about that.
"The thing is - the thing it took me a while to realise - is that you can't fight the water. It's bigger than you - way too big to fight. But if you just let yourself go, just relax and trust it, the water's gonna lift you up. It's pretty amazing really."
And that's Mizumachi all over: diving in with no idea of what awaits, but willing to believe that it'll all turn out okay. He loves deep water, high places, all the things that make Kakei nervous, and yet he trusts Kakei to lead the team, to make the biggest leaps and lead them to the most dizzying heights, believes him when he says they'll reach the top, and if it hasn't happened this year it'll happen next. It is, Kakei has to agree, pretty amazing.
"Come on, then," he says, stripping off his t-shirt (and he's glad he wore shorts today). He stands, kicks his shoes off and jumps, and hears Mizu whooping enthusiastically just before he hits the water. It's cold, and deep, and for a brief instant he feels the old panic, irrational certainty that he'll never see the surface again. Then he opens his eyes and Mizumachi is suspended in the water a few feet away, grinning and waving in slow motion, hair floating around him like octopus tentacles. Kakei relaxes and feels the water buoy him up, breaks the surface and treads water, and then Mizumachi pops up beside him, pushing wet hair out of his eyes, and Kakei feels something in his chest contract painfully, wonderfully at the sight of him.
"Next year we'll do it," Mizu tells him, far too close and more serious than Kakei has ever heard him. He nods.
"Next year," he says breathlessly, and then Mizumachi kisses him, salty and wet, and it's the last thing Kakei expected, the last thing he dared hope for. He's overwhelmed and drowning inside his own head: what if this isn't for real, what if Mizu's just fooling around, what if he screws this all up, what if, what if, what if?
Mizumachi lets him go and grins again, big and bright as always but there's a question in his eyes, a flinching look, and for the first time it occurs to Kakei that maybe Mizumachi isn't so sure of everything either, that maybe he isn't the only one who sometimes feels he's swimming against the current. And if Mizumachi can trust him, then the least Kakei can do is the same. So he smiles, and pulls Mizu closer in the water, and lets his fears go.
And floats.