"You may have been the best in junior high, but out here, you are nothing!" Hagiwara-sensei barked at us. "It is up to you to prove me wrong!"
I winced at his harshness and shouted along with the rest of the team, "HAI!"
"We're national champions!"
"HAI!"
"Second place is not a glory!"
"HAI!"
"This year, we keep ourselves at the top!"
"HAI!"
x
I groaned inwardly at the effort my body was making and touched the wall. Matsumi put out her hand but I shook my head, gripping the ledge and springing on my legs to haul myself up from the water.
"Team C, 3:44.59," Kasuga, the captain, reported. A grin spread over her face. "That's a new record for the 4 x 100 medley."
I bit my lip, ignoring the excited yelps from my teammates at the record-breaking relay. My wet feet slapped on the floor as I made my way the bench to settle myself for the next part of training. It was merely practice, but Hagiwara-sensei was very strict about performance. It wouldn't have done me any good to slack off…
"Ide, Kimura, Natsutani!" I heard my name, and my head snapped up.
"You three get ready for a 400m freestyle."
"Hai!" the three of us chorused.
I bent down and picked up my water-bottle, before draping a towel over my head. I closed my eyes and heard the coach call for Mizuhara and Kuroyanagi to standby for some butterfly stroke thingy and dozed off to sleep.
x
"NATSUTANI!"
My eyes clicked open and I shot up to my feet.
"You idiot, I told you to get ready!"
"Sorry, sensei."
"Give me twenty rounds of hops around the pool, NOW." he sternly pointed.
"Hai!"
Kusou, I thought, as I dropped to a squat and put my hands behind my back.
x
I dragged my numb legs across the perimeter of the pool. Everyone had gone home around two hours ago, some of them albeit irate because they had to wait for me to finish up my frog-leaps. I had stayed back to drain the pool before cleaning it because I had been late for practice and had been punished during practice. Any member of the swim team who had disappointed their teammates was expected to perform this duty alone – it was an unwritten rule that probably came into existence upon my entry into the school three months ago.
I chewed the insides of my cheeks in irritation as I shoved my goggles into my duffel bag.
Was this really what I wanted?
x
In junior high, swimming wasn't just a sport - it was fun. I enjoyed being the star of the team, making new records, getting along with my teammates even if I outshone them by leaps and bounds. We had meals together after practice, and would often go on jogs together. But over here in Shohoku High, things were so different.
I walked out of the indoor pool, making a left to the main gates. I could hear the faint cries of the American football players in the distance, and the cheers of the baseball team of the neighboring junior high.
I could only sigh. It was IH season everywhere, and the school was literally raging with team spirit. Sports clubs were staying back for extra practices, some even three hours past their usual adjournment time.
I used to really indulge in the pleasure of a sport. I was able to understand the adrenaline charge of the activity, I was able to cheer my teammates on when they lagged behind an opponent. I was able to focus on my lane and my lane only, remembering that I fought not for myself but for the team.
Now, I was a much better swimmer in terms of skill, but I could not focus. My mind swam around with me as I was swimming. My body didn't listen to me anymore and was more inclined to compete with a fury of its own.
I could not bear to let myself swim for my teammates because I felt that they were too caught up in the need to win. Everything was about statistics, timing, form and discipline. This lack of unity didn't jeopardize the medley events, however – I was definitely the fastest. I knew it and they knew it – the freestyle was the crucial, ending stroke in a medley, the determinant of success. To them, I was a one-dimensional player who didn't care about anyone else, who didn't care about anything but winning.
In actual fact, I hated being that way.
I used to like to blame it on the coach, Hagiwara-sensei. He was domineering, autocratic and never hesitant to issue punishment. A stickler for discipline, he was the one who scouted me while I was still finishing up my third year in junior high.
My coach in junior high urged me to take up on his offer. Shohoku was the current champion and had held on the lead for four years. It was a lucrative option to be in their swim team, since the chances of entering the national team would be very high.
So I accepted.
And subsequently lost all my vigor, love and joy that I had found in swimming.
x
I felt my cheeks getting moist as I walked towards the gym. It was vital that I passed it to get out of the school. I glanced at my watch, which read 8:17 PM.
It was then I heard some shouting from the gym. Stepping to the double doors that led to the galleries, I took a breath before giving them a hesitant push with one hand, and swiping at my eyes with the other.
x
"ONE MORE POINT!" shouted a Very Big Guy, who was very tan and looked about two meters tall.
"OH!" shouted the players, and a guy wearing a white vest with a black tee inside dribbled the ball down the court at lightning speed.
"You stupid, show-off FOXY FACE!" I heard a redhead scream at the guy from the sidelines. The boy wasn't even participating in what I deemed to be a practice game, since there were only three members on each team. He was, actually, doing some basic dribbling.
"Be quiet!" a girl with a baseball cap on her head hit the boy with red hair on the head with a large fan, which was made of hard paper, at the very least. (It did cause quite a spectacular bump on the victim's head.)
"Concentrate on practice," the girl with the fan ordered, loud enough for me to hear up in the gallery. The red head stuck out his tongue at her, which made me laugh. He looked extremely comical.
"Excellent, Miyagi!" the guy wearing spectacles exclaimed, complimenting a fast break that the shortest guy on the court made. The latter gave him a thumbs up. I noticed that the guy with spectacles wasn't wearing a yellow vest and the other guy was – which meant the specky guy complimented someone who wasn't on his team.
What a great club, I marveled, finally placing my bag on the floor to enjoy the game better.
"Pass!" boomed the giant, and the boy with the black tee and white vest didn't pay attention. Charging up to meet two players from the opposing team, the pale-faced, dark haired form suddenly did a fake – I knew it was a fake because there's nothing else to describe that action.
He then continued running down towards his own basket and completed the point with what I recollected from the depths of my memory as a lay-up.
I guess every team has a Natsutani Yuuko, I thought to myself sardonically.
I heard the redhead berate the boy's actions (before earning himself another smack on the head) and the giant barking something about playing in a team to the members.
Sighing I thought to myself how similar that pale boy and I was, and yet so different. Any one could see that he really didn't feel like giving up, he really was focusing, he really was into the game.
I couldn't find fault with his passion, that was for sure.
Then, I saw him steal the ball away from a guy from the other team. He streaked down the court again and was guarded by the speedy short guy. I saw him perform the same fake, and thought that his team would fail to score. It was obvious, there were people waiting for him to charge down to the basket.
"STUPID FOX RUKAWA, PASS THE BALL!" yelled the redhead rudely from his practice space. I predicted the slap of paper to cranium, and my prophecy came to life almost instantaneously.
It surprised me – the object of insult actually complied with the Victim of the Paper Fan. He passed to the guy with specs, whom the short guy that was in defense didn't expect the pass to go to.
The specky guy immediately let the ball sail from his hands.
It sunk comfortably into the basket.
"Nice shoot, Kogure!"
"Thanks!"
x
I've had only minimal experience with basketball. In junior high I played a little bit of it during physical education lessons, but that was it. I was slaughtered by the taller, larger-limbed girls in my class who played for the school team. But I did know how to gauge a good team when I saw one, and Shohoku's was going to make a mark somewhere in the realm of basketball.
As I walked home I pondered about the game I had witnessed. There were two obviously under-equipped members, in terms of skills, on the short guy's team. But he supported them by patting their backs and scoring whenever he could. He was never absent when they needed to pass to him.
The specky guy, the giant and the boy with the white vest were a weird team, but effective on the court. The encourager was the specky guy, and he always had a nice word for anyone who deserved a compliment. The giant was the one who smoothened out the edges and the boy with the white vest was the one who had the most edges to be smoothened out, but he was also the greatest scorer.
It made me shiver with excitement to see how the whole team would perform, all together. You didn't even know what the red-haired guy had to offer, for now.
Somehow, I was inspired.
x
"Whoa," Kasuga halted upon entering the pool.
"Double whoa," I heard Ide murmur, as she put down her bag.
"What's there to whoa about- Whoa," this time it was Kuroyanagi, as they all spotted me warming up. I nodded in acknowledgement of their arrival.
"What are you doing here?" Mizuhara gasped as she caught sight of me. I gave a soft laugh as if to tell her I was, in fact, also a part of the team.
"Yeah, it's a miracle you're early," Kimura giggled as she got her goggles and swimming cap out. More and more teammates were trickling in, and almost all of them offered me a surprised glance.
"And warming up, at that!" Matsumi appeared from the changing room and walked up to me, patting me on the back. She gave me a big grin, and I smiled back.
"So," she cocked an eyebrow, "why the sudden change in attitude? Normally you look like you will freeze the whole pool over once you dive in."
I shrugged, thinking about the previous night, when I had flipped around in bed thinking about bad my teammates really were. I didn't even know their names, I had realized. Just their surnames, but that was really unusual for girls, I had to admit. So, I concluded, they weren't that bad after all. I just didn't know them – because I had never given myself a chance to.
Hagiwara-sensei chose that moment to boom into the place and shout, "Warm up, practice starts in five!" I noticed him scanning the benches and something about his expression changed when he saw me there, early.
Matsumi nudged me and whispered, "Hagiwara-sensei always gives five minutes allowance at the beginning, bet you didn't know that because you're always late."
I raised my eyebrows. "So…?"
"I think he's trying to give you a buffer," Matsumi winked. "He didn't want the rest of us to think you're the bad kid, so he always starts five minutes past three. This way you won't look that late," she laughed.
My heart was gnawed at, a tiny sense of guilt building up in me. I had thought the worst of Hagiwara-sensei, and here I was listening to Matsumi talking about him being nice.
"All right, let's get going!" Matsumi stood up. I looked at her, considering something.
Finally I asked, "Hey, Matsumi, what's your given name?"
She shot me a surprised look.
I hastily said, "I don't exactly know all of your names…"
A wide grin broke out on her face. "My given name is Matsumi. I asked everybody to call me that because it sounds more personable. Besides, it does sound like a surname, don't you think?"
"Oh," I nodded. "So… what's your surname?"
She giggled. "It's Kogure. But I'd rather you call me Matsumi, like everyone else does."
I gave her a small smile, and followed her down to the pool, where practice was starting. Somehow I thought I had heard the name 'Kogure' before, but I couldn't recall when.
Never mind, I thought to myself. It isn't important, I grinned inwardly as I looked around at my teammates and my coach.
This is more important than anything else.