Free Talk- I have decided to change my penname. From now on I am a mighty dinosaur! I am so happy that I have finally written the first chapter of a story about another one of my very favorite Eyeshield 21 pairings. In my head, it fits into the same timeline as "Bittersweet Symphony" and "The Greatest Christmas Gift," but it's not directly connected. Since it's about music, all the chapter titles are going to be songs (this one is by Pat Benatar) and there will be a lot of other rock and roll references just for fun. I hope you enjoy it. Please tell me what you think.

Koutarou Star
By Angelsaurus

Chapter 1: Anxiety

"My ID number is ninety-nine! Same as my number on the Spiders! That's got to be a sign! Don't you think it's a sign? Julie?"

"I think it's just a coincidence," Julie said cautiously. She watched his lower lip puff out in a small pout at her lack of support and she sighed. "You studied hard, Koutarou. And you did great on all your practice exams. That's what gets you into college, not magic numbers."

But despite what she'd just said, her sweaty hands unclenched and pressed palm-to-palm as she silently prayed. God, Buddha, Grandma in heaven, please let him pass this test. He worked so hard.

Koutarou seemed significantly less anxious. In fact, he was downright brimming with confidence. "Well I still think it's a sign," he insisted. "So can you see the results yet? Do you see ninety-nine on there?"

"My vision is no better than yours," she said. "We're just going to have to wait until the crowd thins out a little and we can get closer. Just remember, if you don't…" Her words of caution were cut off mid-sentence when an elbow crashed into her back so hard that it knocked the sunglasses off her head.

"Hey watch it, buddy!" Koutarou barked. His arm hooked protectively around her back. "Alright Julie, we're not just gonna stand around while you get manhandled. I'll get us to the front of the pack the smart way."

"No, I'm fine. Really I…" Her protests were drowned out by the grunts and growls of the people he squeezed and shoved past as he pulled her through the throng. Apparently 'manhandling' was okay as long as he was the one doling it out. To his credit, though, he did manage to deliver her through the crowd without being bumped even once.

"Alright, I can see the exam results," he said eagerly. "Let's both look for my number."

Julie's stomach twisted like a dishtowel being wrung out. The situation was unfolding in an eerily similar fashion to the last four university entrance results. Each time, Koutarou had been absolutely certain that he'd passed, claiming he made smart work of that school's easy test. And bafflingly, each failure to matriculate made him even more convinced of his prospects for the next school.

But there were no more prospects after this. He had only taken the entrance exams for five universities and he'd already failed four.

She crossed four pairs of fingers.

"Ah, there!" He exclaimed. "Ninety-seven, ninety-eight… one hundred…" His voice stopped and his arm on Julie's back went floppy and fell off.

She opened her mouth to speak, but only soundless air came out.

Koutarou's dark grey eyes blinked at the digital screen displaying all the numbers that weren't his. "I failed…" he uttered in a numb monotone. "I didn't get into college."

After a few swallows to wet her throat, Julie finally was able to speak. "You'll study even harder and take the tests again next year. All you need is a few more months to prepare." Her words of solace probably would have been more convincing if she actually believed in them.

Sawai Julie knew damn well that her friend's test-taking troubles had nothing to do with a lack of studying. That boy studied his butt off for these exams. And he really was smart, not like his favorite word for describing his own perceived coolness, but intelligent.

No, it wasn't about studying or intelligence. It was all about nerves, the handicap he wasn't even vaguely aware of. But he didn't need her to lecture him about it right now. Right now he needed a distraction.

She pulled out her cell phone and speed-dialed a number. "Hey, it's me. Can you meet us somewhere? As long as it's some place fun. It… it's kind of an emergency. Really? A new karaoke bar just a block away from Bando? That sounds good. Yeah. Okay, see you there."

Closing the phone, she turned optimistic eyes to Koutarou. He was still staring, still silent. A quiet Koutarou was not a good sign. "Come on," she gently urged, fingers clutching the sleeve of his jacket. "Let's go to the karaoke bar and just have fun. Then tomorrow we can make a plan for how you're going to pass those exams next spring."

His eyes looked down at her and blinked in astonishment. "Wait… You mean me and you at a karaoke bar together? Just the two of us? Like… a date?"

There was a shimmer of hope on his face that she hated having to extinguish, especially when just moments ago he'd looked so desolate. "Like as friends, silly," she sighed. "Besides, it won't be just the two of us. Didn't you hear me on the phone? I asked Akaba to join us."

"What?" he squawked. "Why'd you hafta invite that guitar-obsessed jerk? I don't want him to share in my humiliation."

Julie rolled her neck, exasperated. "You still can't acknowledge that you and Akaba are friends?"

"I can," he said with a childish pout. "I just don't see why he always has to tag along any time we do anything." His eyes looked away from her and a vague hint of pink tinged his cheeks. "Why can't it ever be just the two of us?"

"What are you talking about?" she asked, ignoring that her heart was pumping a few extra beats per minute. "It's just the two of us right now, isn't it?"

Koutarou frowned. "Checking test results doesn't count."

"Oh don't pout like that," she said through smiling lips. "I think Akaba is a good influence on you. He's calm and cool and he balances your personality well. And he's very kind. Don't forget that he's the one who recommended you for the all-star Japanese team."

"Cool? Kind? If you think Akaba is so great then maybe you should just go out with him." His voice was thick with sarcasm and Julie didn't feel like reinforcing it, so she started to walk away. "Wait!" he called after her. "You do know I was kidding, right? Don't go out with Akaba!"

She didn't slow down simply because she knew his long legs would catch up with her quickly enough. "You're so strange," she chuckled when he reached her side and adjusted his pace to match hers.

That he could still complain about Akaba gave her hope that he would be back to normal in no time.

…

"Blue Monday?" Even without looking at his face, Julie could tell that Koutarou's nose was scrunched up as he nasally read the name of the bar.

"It's got a 1980s theme," she said, her own voice laced with excitement. Even if her tastes strayed more towards the 70s, this place was still a potential goldmine for fashion inspiration. "Let's just go inside. I'm sure he's already waiting."

"That doesn't make it seem more appealing," Koutarou grumbled, shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

Julie had to tug him by the elbow to get him through the door. She knew this outing would do him good, even if he didn't realize it yet himself.

The scene inside was like one of her most deliciously campy dreams come to life. Brilliant beams of multi-colored light danced across the floor and up the walls, illuminating vintage posters of Madonna and Duran Duran.

Best of all, though, was vast panoply of retro fashions on both employees and patrons: legwarmers, stonewashed jeans, rubber jewelry, and band t-shirts from every decade that indicated that the bar's music selection was not limited to the 1980s.

This was a prospective fashion designer's heaven. But she couldn't forget why she was here.

"Look at this place! It's amazing! Don't you think, Koutarou?" She looked up at him and was pleased to see his eyes were as wide as hers. It was the perfect setting for distraction.

" Smart light display. You'd think we woulda heard about a place like this opening so close to…" His wonderment was abruptly extinguished by the appearance of a familiar mop of red hair.

"Hey Julie, Koutarou," Akaba greeted. Paired with a faded Judas Priest t-shirt, he wore a characteristically cool smile and Koutarou chaffed visibly under its glow.

"Where's your stupid guitar?" he sneered.

"Left it at home," Akaba casually replied. "And your comb?"

With an aggressive snort, Koutarou whipped a collapsible comb from the back pocket of his jeans and preened furiously. All Julie could do was rake her fingers down her face at the pathetic display. She knew that all boys were a little bit strange, but the two she had become attached to were downright ridiculous.

"We're here to relax and have fun," she reminded. "Not to fight. Let's get ourselves a room and order some drinks."

Akaba shook his head. "I put our names on the list for a room, but they said the wait could be as long as an hour. This place just opened last week so it's really busy."

Koutarou reacted immediately. "Didja hear that, Julie? Too crowded, I guess we'll have to go someplace else." His hand reached for hers and grasped it tightly.

"Well the good news is that I got us on the list about thirty minutes ago," Akaba informed with just a trace of smugness on his curled lips. "So the wait won't be too long. In the meantime, I managed to find an empty booth in the main room where we can sit. Shall I show you the way?" Although he was talking to both of them, his smile was aimed at Julie.

"Sounds good," she chirped, but as she started to follow Akaba she found herself towing an anchor. "Okay Koutarou, you either have to let go of my hand or stop dragging your feet."

He chose the latter, moving his legs and leaving his hand where it was. And for some reason, that made her happy. It must be the fact that he wasn't fighting too hard against her attempts to cheer him up. It had nothing to do with how warm his fingers felt coiled around hers.

The booth was in the very back of a huge auditorium, the furthest possible seats from the stage. Akaba smiled apologetically at Julie. "Sorry about the poor location. It was the only spot available."

"It's fine," she said, sitting down on the red leather upholstery. One hand patted the empty space to her right. " Have a seat, Koutarou. After all, we're here to support you."

The way he fell to the bench, as if all his bones had momentarily vanished, indicated that her statement may have sounded a bit too much like pity. "I wish I was old enough to order alcohol," he groaned.

"You don't need that," said Akaba, who now occupied the space to Julie's left. "You just need to readjust your tempo, try approaching your study methods in three-four time."

"Music has got nothing to do with it!" Koutarou snarled.

Akaba didn't blink or flinch, cool as ever. "How about going to cram school?" he asked. "Or hiring a home tutor?"

The corners of Koutarou's lips pulled down into a dramatic scowl. "You're the expert, huh, Mr. Got-into-every-school-he-applied-to-and-gets-to-play-college-football-but-still-is-always-strumming-his-stupid-guitar-Akaba?"

"Is that my new nickname?" Akaba asked with a cocked eyebrow. "I wasn't trying to lecture you. It was just a suggestion. I don't know the reason why you didn't pass your tests."

"Well I don't know either," Koutarou huffed. "I'm smart. I studied hard. Tell him how hard I studied, Julie!"

Her thighs shifted uneasily on the red leather. The whole purpose of this activity was to get his mind off entrance exams. "You did," she said. "You studied very hard. But do you really want to dwell on it? You'll have lots of time to prepare for next year, so you shouldn't worry about it right now."

She watched as Koutarou's knitted eyebrows smoothed out and his shoulders slumped.

"I just don't get it," he sighed. "I don't get how I could have failed every single test I took. They weren't even top-tier schools. It's just so… so…" Frustration was raising the pitch and volume of his voice. The fingers of both his hands forked through and yanked his spiky black tresses. "What did I do wrong?"

The answer to his query was an itch in Julie's throat, too low to be relieved by coughing. She didn't want to go into an explanation of what he did wrong without preparation. But seeing him on the verge of tearing out such a fine head of hair left her no other choice.

"Koutarou," she said as delicately as possible. She even reached over and touched his arm very lightly, ensuring that she had his full attention.

"Yeah?" he said softly, almost smiling as his eyes met hers.

"I think I might have an idea why you didn't pass your entrance exams." She chose her words carefully. "You are intelligent. There's no doubt about that. But for some reason, you kind of lose your cool when performing under pressure. Except when in involves kicks, of course."

Clearly puzzled, he wrinkled his nose. "What do you mean lose my cool?"

Julie squirmed in her seat again, eyes darting over to Akaba in a bid for help. But of course he wouldn't know what she was trying to say. He hadn't been Koutarou's friend nearly as long as she had and hadn't seen the full breadth of his behavior off of the football field.

"Well, it's what a lot of people call 'performance anxiety,'" she explained. "Whenever you have to do something that you know really matters, your brain gets totally derailed as soon as you make one mistake and you start acting erratically. Do you remember our third grade play?"

He thought about it for a moment and a proud smile leapt onto his face. "Peter Pan, right? I was the lead and you were Tinkerbell. Very smart casting! I owned that role."

"Are you kidding?" she asked, mouth stretched open in an incredulous grimace. "You forgot one of your lines and with everyone watching you and waiting you kind of…" The memory made her wince. "You freaked out and started kicking over all the scenery."

Koutarou looked at her as if she were a crazy woman. "That never happened," he asserted.

"Yes, it did," she said adamantly. "You destroyed Neverland! You kicked Wendy in the face! See, this is the other thing. You don't even notice that you are freaking out. In your mind, everything went smoothly, when really it was a disaster. Who knows what went on when you were taking that test?"

His lips tightened and his eyebrows twitched slightly as he silently processed what she had just said. It was hard to tell if it was sinking in or if he was still in denial. That brain of his certainly worked in mysterious ways.

"I still don't get it," he finally said, giving Julie the tiring impression that she'd have to explain it all again. "How can I have such dramatic overreactions to performance anxiety and not even realize it?"

"The human brain is a very complex organ," Akaba answered quite intellectually, giving his chin a thoughtful scratch to complete the image. "It's possible that yours isn't fully conscious when you have an episode, like people who sleepwalk. Or maybe it just represses the memory of the behavior as soon as it's finished."

"Well gee, 'professor,'" Koutarou snorted. "If you know so much about my brain, how about telling me how to fix it?"

Akaba drew in a slow breath through his teeth and ruffled the back of his red head. "Those were just a couple of my theories. I can't make any conclusions without sufficient data. I've never even seen your so-called performance anxiety."

"He doesn't get it when he's playing football," Julie injected. "Only things he subconsciously doesn't feel confident about, college entrance exams, school plays, singing…"

A loud nasal sound came from Koutarou. "I never sing," he said snootily.

There was a single silent second, a moment when Julie's and Akaba's eyes locked and she somehow knew exactly what he was thinking, exactly what he was about to suggest. Hoping that this momentary mind connection went both ways, she tried to beam her thoughts to him.

Don't say it. Don't encourage him. Please, just don't.

But Akaba didn't get the message and turned towards Koutarou. "You could sing now," he told him unworriedly. "We are in a karaoke bar after all. Then I could see for myself just what happens when you get nervous."

"But you don't have to!" Julie added with a pleading edge in her voice. "You've had a rough day, Koutarou. And you don't have to make it worse by embarrassing yourself in front of all these people."

For a moment he just looked stunned. Then he looked angry, brows furrowed and teeth bared. "So you just assume I'll embarrass myself?" he said. "Or are you afraid I'll embarrass you? I'm not even sure I believe what you said about my performance under pressure. After all, I don't remember ever freaking out."

"Well I don't know that you'll act crazy if you try to sing," she responded. "But do you really want to take the risk? There has to be a better way to test this theory." As she spoke, she stared at his face and she noticed something hiding under his veil of anger. Koutarou was hurt by her lack of faith in him. "Go ahead and sing if you want," she sighed, gently smiling. "If you say you'll do fine then I believe you."

All evidence of negative emotion evaporated from his face as soon as she said it. "You really do?"

"Of course," she answered.

"Tell you what," Akaba calmly offered. "I've got my camera with me, so if you'd like I can record your performance, and if you go crazy you can see it for yourself."

"And if I don't, well then it must mean that those un-smart entrance exams were rigged against me," Koutarou declared with a wide grin.

Rather than pointing out the absurdity of her friend's logic, Julie just slapped him (not too hard) on the shoulder. "Knock 'em dead, Koutarou."

With a stalwart expression on his face, he stood, and as he made his move towards the stage, Akaba slipped a 1000-yen note into his hand. "Just to ensure that you'll get to go next," was the explanation. "And remember, it has to be a song you aren't too familiar with."

Julie swallowed anxiously as she watched Koutarou hand the cash to the manager with no subtlety at all. From the looks of it, though, the bribe worked. The manager smiled and winked at him, and then typed something into the computer that controlled the play list.

"Why do you look so worried?" Akaba asked her. "Didn't you say that you believe in him?"

"I do," she insisted, though her fidgeting and reluctance to make eye contact belied her true feelings. "Well, I really, really want to believe in him. He's a good guy, with a good heart…"

"But?" Akaba urged.

"But he's never sung one note in his life," she continued. "He may not remember our third grade play, but I do. I remember how the other kids said mean things behind his back after that, that he was a weirdo and an idiot. This place is packed and I don't want all these people to think those kinds of things about Koutarou when that's not what he's really like."

Akaba flashed an enigmatic smile. "Could it be that you have a soft spot for the young kicking ace?"

Heat flooded her cheeks. "No! He's my friend, just like you are my friend. I've just known him longer than anyone else so I 'get him' better than most people do. He still manages to surprise me sometimes, though."

After the girl on stage belted out the last refrain of Don't Stop Believin' in broken English, a voice from the speakers announced the next song. "And now, singing Heat of the Moment, Sasaki Koutarou!"

Julie held her breath as Koutarou stepped onto the stage and picked up the microphone. He certainly looked the part of a rock star: tight black jeans sheathing those long legs, dark eyes and wild hair, top three buttons of his shirt undone to reveal that Route 66 necklace dangling over bare flesh.

"You're staring," Akaba whispered coyly.

"Am not," she denied. Of course, it didn't matter how good he looked on stage if he couldn't sing, and she feared what he might do if his performance hit a snag.

The music came on and Koutarou took a breath (even though Julie still couldn't). His lips slid apart and sound came out.

"I never meant to be so bad to you
One thing I said that I would never do
One look from you and I would fall from grace
And that would wipe this smile right from my face…"

The voice he produced was unlike anything Julie had ever heard before, rich and smooth, like coffee-flavored ice cream, and as intoxicating as liquor. Her heart galloped as he made love to the microphone. How did she not know about this? How had he never sung before now?

"Oh my god," Akaba uttered in her ear. The way he said it indicated a shock equal to her own, but she didn't dare shift her gaze to confirm it. "There's no way he's never sung before. Nobody could have that kind of natural talent. He's phenomenal."

"Are you recording?" Julie asked without taking her eyes off Koutarou.

"Yeah," he answered. "I'm going to try to get a closer shot though." He stood up and crossed in front of her and she followed.

"I'm coming too." Since the moment the first note was birthed from his lips she had been fighting the urge to move closer, like a moth to a street lamp. Now she abandoned all resistance.

There was surprisingly little standing room close to the stage, as it seemed quite a few other people (mostly young girls) had acted quicker on the same impulse that she had. Even the waitresses, still carrying their trays of drinks, had stopped in their tracks to listen.

They were a captive audience.

"And now you find yourself in 82
The disco hotspots hold no charm for you
You can't concern yourself with bigger things
You catch the pearl and ride the dragon's wings…"

And yet Julie couldn't shake this selfish feeling that he was singing just to her. Maybe every girl in there felt the same way. It was the magic spell that Koutarou's voice cast. Then suddenly his eyes met hers right as he launched into the chorus again and her breath trembled.

"It was the heat of the moment
Telling me what your… smart…"

Just like that, the spell was broken. All it took was for him to say 'smart' when the lyric was 'heart' and he was completely derailed.

He stood paralyzed, mouth gaping like a fish as the music continued to play without his voice. White was visible all around his grey irises.

Just keep singing, Julie silently mouthed. You're okay.

Koutarou nodded and opened his mouth again, but what came out was anything but beautiful singing. "HEY EVERYBODY!" he shouted so loud it filled the auditorium. "CHECK OUT THIS SMART KICK!"

"Oh dear god," muttered Akaba, dropping his forehead into his palm. "At least I'm getting it on my camera so we can show him when he doesn't believe us." As soon as he said it, the karaoke microphone hurtled like a comet into his camera, knocking it to the floor and smashing it to bits. Koutarou's 'smart' kick was a punt.

While Akaba stooped to pick up the wreckage of his digital camera, Julie scrambled through the jeering crowd and onto the stage, desperate to protect her friend's dignity. Getting close to him would be a feat, though, as he was still kicking the air all around him and yelling like a howler monkey.

"Koutarou," she said in a calm voice from a safe distance. "Koutarou, the song is over. It's time for you to get off the stage." Her words did nothing to thwart his flailing, so she reached out and gently touched his arm as she said his name one last time. "Koutarou?"

Like the waking snap of a hypnotist's fingers, Julie's touch brought him back to reality. "Huh? Is the song over already?"

"It's over," she assured him. "Please come outside with me. I need some fresh air." Before he had a chance to agree to it, she grabbed his wrist and led him out of the karaoke bar as fast as she could. The less of the audience's commentary he overheard, the better.

Akaba was already waiting when they reached the sunlight.

"Hey what gives?" Koutarou whined, twisting out of Julie's grip. "Why'd you pull me out of there? I was on fire! And why is he out here?"

"How much of your performance do you actually remember?" Akaba asked.

"All of it," Koutarou answered. He'd just retrieved his trusty comb and was raking it through his hair. "I was totally smart right to the end, and you have the proof stored on your camera."

Akaba held his handful of mechanical junk in front of Koutarou's face. "You kicked the microphone into it."

"No way!" Koutarou stammered. "You mean… I went ballistic?" On his face was a mix of shock and disappointment and embarrassment that was barely concealed.

It made Julie's chest twinge. "If it makes you feel better," she said with a tender smile, "You were incredible up until the part where you freaked out royally."

"Really?" A hopeful grin spread across his face.

She beamed back at him. "Really. You have an amazing voice."

"You definitely have talent," Akaba added. "I can't believe I'm going to say this but… Koutarou, do you think you might be interested in singing with my band?'

"Why would I want to be in a band with you and your stupid guitar?' he snorted. "Definitely not a smart move."

"I think it's a good idea," said Julie. "It would be a shame to waste such a beautiful voice. And besides that, being in a band is sexy."

"I'll do it." His answer punctuated her sentence.

Akaba smiled and nodded coolly. "Excellent. Now we just have to figure out what to do about your performance anxiety."

Koutarou blinked innocently. "What performance anxiety?"

To be continued…