ahwww yeeeah new kase fic time yall! and it's gonna be a multi-chap one to boot! it's only about half planned atm, buuut we're looking at at least 10-15 chaps so far, possibly more depending on how it goes, look forwards to some truly horrendous update schedules folks
this is gonna be a slightly different take on kase (mostly bc depression and also just bc she's so much older in this and her life has gone quite differently without yamada there) but dw, we'll be seeing some of her old self coming back eventually!
(also i've had to make up names for characters like kase and yama's parents and mikawa's first name, if we ever get canon reveals then i'll go back and switch them out!)
really hope you enjoy, my lovelies!
"On your marks!"
The silence before the storm was always the hardest part.
Once the shot rang out, once the explosion of cheers and jeers, screams and muttered prayers started, it was easy, she could let her body do the rest – that was what it was trained for after all, what it was good at – but as she and her competitors settled into their starting blocks and a smothering hush fell across the stadium…
"Set!"
It was unbearable; her body might be so deeply entrenched in the art of sprinting that she could probably run in her sleep, but her mind still wasn't used to this atmosphere, even after all these years.
With nothing else to fill her mind, all the expectations – of her coaches, the crowd, her loved ones and herself – would slowly seep through the cracks in the dark places of her mind, a leak that would grow and grow and grow, until she was swimming in a thick sludge of all her own doubts and fears, kicking and clawing to keep her head above the surface, enough that she'd be able to hear the shot when it went off, the thick tension of an entire stadium's worth of anticipation threatening to force her body out of its ready position, the urge to lift her eyes from the ground beneath her, maybe catch a glimpse of the ref, see if the other sprinters were just as jittery as she was, how much longer could thi-
Her body reacted more on instinct than actual intent, leaping from the blocks even before she'd registered the noise. Thunder still rang through the large, echoing space, but she could barely hear it over the monstrous roar of spectators, or the harsh thud of her feet as they stabbed down into the track, material made harder with the sheer force of her strides, she could feel her legs wobbling slightly and grit her teeth as she tried to properly adjust.
Each breath was long and heavy, her lungs screaming white-hot fire at her, the edges of her vision began blurring away as she focused on the path ahead.
The end was so close, just a few more meters, one leg in front of the other, long, steady inhale every two steps, slow, controlled exhale for the next two, keep her core tight, elbows bent, head locked in position.
It was all second nature to her now, her body knew the movements, the precise angles that she'd been performing her entire life.
By now, she was blind to all but the bright, white line ahead, jolting forwards every time she pushed away from the ground, until finally, finally, it was gone, disappeared somewhere behind her and she could let herself slow and clutch at her chest as the world returned around her in a great crash of noise and colour and shape.
Her ears rang as she focused on her coach rushing towards her, a water-bottle in one hand and a towel in the other, she didn't even let him speak before grabbing at the bottle and downing half of it in one go – ignoring his 'tsk' and disapproving glare.
Taking a moment to savour the cold liquid soothing her flaming throat, she flashed a glance to the scoreboard.
Fifth place, 12.93 seconds, reaction time 0.302 seconds.
Sighing, she returned her attention to her drink – though she switched to taking small, slow sips rather than gulping it down. It was a bad time, but she'd known that even before she'd checked, even without seeing Ito-sensei's expression; she'd not given the race her all, probably not even her half if she was being really honest with herself.
Her legs hadn't been steady and her mind was too distracted to push herself to her limits, she'd run like she did during training… mindless, routine, empty.
Fingers snapped in front of her face, jolting her back to the present, to her coach looking torn between throwing one of his usual hissy-fits, or straight up turning around and walking away.
Taking a deep breath, he pulled a hand roughly down his face. "Just… cool down," he eventually muttered, throwing the towel over one of her shoulders, "go shake hands, smile for the camera, get some sleep. I want you at training six sharp in the morning."
She'd barely coughed out an acknowledgement before he spun on his heel and started towards one of the officials, no doubt paying his respects and congratulating her on a well-organised race. Taking one last sip, Tomoka broke into an easy jog, throwing a short congratulation to the victor as she passed by.
There was once a time when she would take any defeat as an opportunity to work harder, improve her technique, just run faster, until she was completely untouchable. But right now, she only wanted to go home and sleep.
Flopping back heavily, Tomoka let herself sink into her hard mattress, finally free from the stares and chatter of press and public and the loud drunkards on the train home.
Even though it'd been several hours now, she still wasn't feeling much of anything regarding her failure at the national track competition today. She was still waiting for it to hit her, all the disappointment and frustration to barrel into her psyche so hard she fell off the bed, but even as she waited in tense silence, nothing happened.
She opened eyes grungy with dust and sleep and stared blearily at the plain ceiling above her.
Well… that was it, her last chance at joining Japan's national team and she'd completely flunked it; seventh in the 400m, eighth in the 800m and now fifth in the 100m, no matter how you looked at it, it was a complete failure on all fronts.
Not that she really had any right to be disappointed about it – surely leading the Japanese team to gold in international competitions in her twenties would be enough for any reasonable person, what right did she have to be so greedy, wanting that glory all to herself, when there were other, younger, better qualified athletes out there who'd never even represented their country once.
It didn't matter now though, she'd already lost.
A small part of her was glad, an even smaller part of her was upset, but mostly she just felt dull, emotionless acceptance of a long-expected surprise finally shuffling past, making even less impact than anticipated.
She wondered what it said about her, that she was more concerned with the annoying blankness of her ceiling – so clean and smooth and boring, nothing to distract her at all – than she was at the latest slump in her career. At this point, it was just another stumble to add to her quickly-growing collection.
Still, the blanket of apathy that had settled lovingly over her body was warm and comfy, even if it did drain her energy and leave her wondering what the point of anything was anymore.
It would be a good idea for her to eat, she knew that, she could hear Ito-sensei's reedy voice nagging at the back of her mind, but that would require getting up, when all she wanted to do was lie here doing and thinking nothing, and it would mean trying to scrounge up something edible in a kitchen that hadn't been restocked for… how long was it now, two weeks? Three?
And, even on the off-chance she actually had something to eat buried in the cupboards, the way her stomach had curled into a tight ball in the centre of her chest suggested that anything she might swallow wouldn't get very far.
So instead she'd just lie here, in her uncomfortable jeans and jacket – still damp from the light rainfall outside – counting the excuses like a child might count sheep.
Being completely unconscious sounded so very appealing right now.
Tomoka growled at the cheerful jingle punching its way through the delicate fog of sleep she'd finally managed to encase herself in, stomping around her head, kicking away the delicate tendrils wrapped around her, screaming its joyful tune despite her hand slapping blindly at her alarm-clock.
It was only when one of her wild swipes knocked her phone off the table, that she realised the true source of the awful noise.
By the time she'd half crawled out of her bed to grab it back – quickly returning to the warm blankets and burrowing deep into them – the ringing had stopped, replaced with a blinking light helpfully notifying her that she had a missed call. She didn't need to check who it was from, this was the fourth time it had happened now, no doubt her coach would be utterly livid by now, probably red-faced and starting to throw equipment around the field she was supposed to have been training in for the last three hours.
She honestly hadn't intended to skip out on it, at no point had she made the conscious decision to not leave when she was supposed to, she just hadn't made the conscious decision to get out of bed and get ready either.
So now there were two options available to her; turn her phone off, bury her face back into her pillow and hope that maybe she'd be able to get at least an hour of uninterrupted sleep – something that had eluded her all night, even before her phone started jolting her awake – or face the music and call Ito-sensei back, put up with the rant that was sure to come and maybe even try getting up and finding something to eat if she was feeling adventurous.
Ten minutes later, she finally decided it would be less painful to just get it over and done with, rather than let her coach stew in his frustration any longer. Sighing deeply, she tapped the button to call him back, the urge to just hang up growing with every dreadful pause between rings.
She was starting to think he wasn't actually going to answer her call – some kind of karmic payback, he was fond of that sort of thing – when it finally cut to a fuzzy silence, distant calls and thudding of feet against a hard rubber track the only thing to let her know she'd gotten through.
Ah, the silent treatment then, well shit, he must be really pissed.
"Ito-sensei, hey!" She plastered a wide grin onto her face, he wouldn't be able to see it, but maybe it'd make her voice sound lighter. "Look I'm really sorry about bailing on you like this, I should've called you to let you know earlier."
There was a slight shuffling sound, probably from a hand being wiped across a forehead, before he spoke, "I wish you'd come in today, this isn't a conversation one should have over the phone-"
"I think I'm just feeling a bit put-out by the championship results, y'know? Might've been out in the rain too long last night too, feeling a bit headachy-"
"Kase-"
"-I promise I'll be back tomorrow though, just need a day to get my head straight, catch up on some housekeeping, go grocery shopping, I'm running low, and you can't train on an empty stomach, right sensei? I bet a good meal tonight will have me ready to-"
"You're being dropped by Kaizen."
She blinked hard at her duvet, as though it might have answers for her, but it remained resolutely inanimate. "Oh."
A harsh huff of air crackled against her ear. "I've been warning you for months that they were losing interest, no one wants to sponsor a burnt-out star, you had to impress at the championships, that was your last shot with them," Ito said, somehow managing to walk the fine line between sympathetic and smug.
Tomoka had known this was coming, as she'd known many things were coming. She still didn't know how to feel though, there was no fury, no sadness, just the bored thought of course they did, why wouldn't they, they should've done it months ago, hell, they really shouldn't've signed you in the first place, you were always going to let them down.
Even with yet another hit to her career, her life's passion, the news made her feel no different than if her coach had just informed her that national envelope sales were down.
"Well I guess that makes sense," she said, probably sounding far too happy, but she had far more practise faking joy than sorrow, "still, doesn't mean I can't keep running, right? Do I get to keep my old Kaizen gear or do I have to give it back? I mean it's all pretty worn now, dunno what they'd do with it, but I've got enough saved to replace the important stuff if I have to, or I could try finding a new sponsor, I'd probably need your help with that though, you know how I am with-"
Ito's long sigh easily cut off her rambling. "That won't be happening."
Her entire body twitched at the insinuation, she didn't want to believe that he meant what she thought he did.
"…Sensei?"
"Kase-san, I don't want to give up on you, you've got more raw talent and skill than anyone else I've ever trained and I know you're capable of great things – I saw it at Asiad and the IAAF championships – but it's becoming clear that you can't give this your all anymore," he said, voice heavy with long, halting pauses.
She was shaking her head slowly, but with how dry her mouth had suddenly gone, she couldn't say anything to interrupt him.
"I can't keep you as my main focus anymore, not when there are younger, more driven athletes who could also become greats if given the right training, it's not fair to leave them alone and it's not fair to expect more from you than you're willing to give."
Finally managing to force a choked sound from her throat, Tomoka launched into a stuttering outburst, "No, please! Look, I know I've not been at the top of my game for a long time now, but it's just a minor slump, I got complacent after the IAAF, but I can get better, I just, I just need to work harder, please give me another chance, if I don't have track…" then I don't have anything.
There was a dreadfully long pause on the other end of the line – she could hear what sounded like Inoue's laughter in the distance, she was probably joking with the new kid who'd joined their training sessions – each second filling her with both hope and dread at the same time.
"I'm sorry, but even if you turned everything around right now, you're getting older, you won't have many years more left in you anyway; I'd rather spend those years on someone who hasn't already peaked."
He was right, of course. Even if she'd never really let it trouble her, she'd noticed how much quicker she ran out of breath, how her joints would crack and groan much louder than they ever had in her twenties and she always got a few surprised looks when she turned up at a competition, even though she wasn't really that old, the stigma was strong in athletic circles.
She couldn't help but laugh at that, wincing at how bitter it sounded. "So, that's it?"
"I'm not going to stop you from coming to our training sessions if that's what you really want, or competing in your own time, but you'll not be getting personalised training anymore."
So, the option to just continue on like nothing had changed was still there, but it would be nothing more than a hollow performance. Still it wasn't like there was anything else she could do; her entire life had been completely focused on the track, she had no other skills, no friends outside of those she trained and competed with, she didn't even have any hobbies that weren't running. The idea of stepping out of the comfortable, familiar, but collapsing home she'd built for herself, into a great, wide, unknowable void was even more terrifying than staying put, even knowing that she might be crushed by rubble any moment.
Ito made a thoughtful humming sound. "How about you take some time off – not a retirement, but an extended vacation."
"And do what?" she asked, not quite sure she liked the idea.
He huffed, from the 'swishing' she could hear he was probably waving a hand around frustratedly. "See old friends, visit family, catch up on tv or a novel, just relax and don't think about running or competitions for a few months. Maybe you'll remember why you loved it in the first place, maybe you'll decide that you want to retire and move on to something else, either way, it'll do you good to get some distance from it all for a while."
Picking at an annoying bit of fluff on her pillow, she pulled her knees up to her chest under the sheets. "Do I have a choice?"
"It's just a suggestion," Ito said, voice just a few degrees away from true irritation, "you have to start making these decisions for yourself though – I won't be babying you any longer."
She stayed quiet for a long moment to let that sink in.
Another distant shout crackled over the line, Ito's responding one was muffled – probably by his hand over his mobile. "Look," he said, voice once again low and close, "I've got to get back to the others, please at least think about it, for me, if not for yourself."
The 'Ok' had barely left her lips before he hung up, leaving Tomoka with ringing silence and such a complete sense of loss, that she wondered if she'd ever find herself again.
It had taken three hours and a screaming bladder to finally get her out of bed, but once she'd started moving she found that keeping that momentum was a hell of a lot easier than getting it in the first place. After using the bathroom and cleaning herself up a little – and finally changing out of last night's clothes – she'd even managed to walk down to the nearest corner store and pick up a few quick ready-meals.
She hadn't gotten around to actually cooking one yet, but baby steps.
Unfortunately, all her half-hearted attempts at distraction hadn't managed to stop her mind from cycling through the same seven thoughts that she'd been trying to ignore ever since her conversation with her coach – no, she probably shouldn't call him that anymore, should she? – with Ito-san this morning.
I'll never be able to run again.
What am I supposed to do now?
How do I live without track? I can't live off savings forever and I can't get another job, I don't have any skills.
I wish I had someone to talk to about this.
Why do I feel so numb and apathetic, maybe I never actually cared that much to start with.
What's even the point of existing without track, not like I have anything else to offer to the world, I could die right now and nothing would change.
Seriously, what the fuck do I do now?
Over and over and over again, nagging away at the back of her head as she prodded absently at the plastic film covering a box of fried rice, never quite finding the will to just walk the four feet to the microwave and heat it up.
Groaning, she glanced at the blinking numbers hovering next to the vague shadow of the appliance – and when had it gotten so dark, she hadn't even noticed the dimming light outside.
17:43, not quite dinner time yet, so she could reasonably push back eating for another few hours, just so long as she carefully ignored the heavy weight of her stomach insistently reminding her that the last thing she'd eaten was half a portion of takeaway chicken katsu on the way home last night.
What am I supposed to do now?
Tomoka half wanted to pull her hair out, but that would require more effort than she could really give right now. Why couldn't she just… do nothing? Not have to worry about working, or taking care of herself, or living, it'd be nice if she could just exist in a small, comfortable bubble where she never had to think about anything and could just sleep all day, maybe play games on her phone when she was feeling up to it.
Her head dropped heavily onto her crossed arms. God, she was pathetic, less than ten hours after being told she had been – for all intents and purposes – fired, and she was already thinking like a sullen teenager who was only just learning she didn't know how to be an adult.
Though now that she thought about it that wasn't too far from the truth; her quarter-life crisis was just a little later onset than most.
Did that mean she wouldn't be getting her mid-life crisis until she was in her sixties?
Rubbing her face vigorously into her arms, she finally pushed herself back up and grabbed her mobile, hands working more on memory than thought as they flicked and tapped.
If she was going to act like a teenager, then she might as well go all the way with it.
Only three rings and a warm, deeply familiar voice chirped out a greeting; for the first time in what had to be weeks, she actually felt something – a tangled mess of warmth and a tightness in her chest that made it hard to reply.
"Ka-san, it's me."
Her mother immediately started making a barely-intelligible rush of noise, but she just about managed to pick out, "Hold on a moment, let me call your tou-san in," before she was cut off by excited yelling and the shuffling of feet and fabric.
She had to smile a little at their excitement, but she also couldn't help the twinge of guilt poking at her spine. It had been a while since she last called…
A faint 'click' as the phone was switched to speaker and suddenly she could hear the subtle shifts and distant noises in the background, even as her parents started talking again.
"Tomoka," her dad's voice was a little hoarse, but still kind and loving – she wished she could actually see him though, receive one of his trademark bone-crushing hugs that always lifted her off her feet, then she'd do the same to her mother, who'd complain about being surrounded by giants but would hold her back just as tight – "it's good to hear from you."
She couldn't detect any resentment in his tone, but she couldn't quite shake the nagging feeling either. "Hey tou-san, hey ka-san, sorry it's been so long, the last few months have been really busy, what with the national championship and everything-"
"Oh yes! We watched the whole thing-" Tomoka winced slightly at that "-you did so well, even if you didn't place in the top three this time, we know you did your best and are both so proud of you!"
"Actually, that's kinda what I wanted to talk about," she said, hesitant and having to distract herself by fiddling with the still uncooked packet of rice on the table before her. She took a long, shaky breath. "Me and Ito-sensei were talking about it and we… we think it would be best for me to take some time off."
For a few seconds there was nothing, but her mother quickly started babbling faster than she could run.
"Time off? Oh, Tomoka what's wrong, are you sick? You should've told us sooner, is it something long-term? Have you gone to see a doctor yet? You know I heard that there was a nasty bug going around near Tokyo, are you resting and drinking enough? Why didn't Ito-san stop you from running if you were unwell, I should call him up an-"
"No! No, it's nothing like that, don't worry so much, I'm fine, I promise!" Perhaps if she laughed hard enough, she might convince herself of that. "I'm just… I've lost my drive I guess, I can't seem to put my all into track right now, coach says I need a vacation to recharge and stuff, you know?"
Her mother's sigh helped her to relax a little, but her dad's unconvinced hum quickly had her shoulders tensing again. "Are you sure that's what you want?" he asked.
Was she sure? No, absolutely not, she wasn't sure about anything anymore, except that she was lost and confused and terrified. Maybe Ito-sensei was right, she'd spent so long focused on one thing, that any other life experiences had completely passed her by, a break from athletics might be what she needed to regain some direction.
Or maybe she was a hopeless cause, who'd already given all she had to offer to the world, who'd one day disappear without so much as a whisper.
All she knew right now, was that she really wanted a hug from her parents.
"I… Yeah, I'm sure," she said, wishing she were able to stop her voice from cracking so badly. "Can- can I come home for a while?"