Another Story, Another Life Time
Because every beginning has its end and every end has its beginning…
The quiet stillness of the darkened club room was pierced by the light from the golden afternoon slipping through the opening door. A young man stood at the doorway, his sturdy frame tinted orange in the fading dusk, studying the silent space. Eyes roamed over everything, adjusting to the dark, before a confident step placed him inside.
Remnants of yesterday's party still lingered, pieces of confetti and streamers littered the floor while the banner celebrating the occasion waved in greeting. The trash was overflowing with plates and cups in an attempt to keep the place in some semblance of order as a crush cans haphazardly were kept in a corner. A small chuckle escaped his lips as he walked slowly forward, his hand reaching for the table still holding half empty plates and discarded napkins.
His hand slowly trailed the edges of the turn table, caressing it with a sort of fondness. The war table had served its duel purpose increasing the club's funds and to help formulate battle plans. Lazily he slid his finger down the side line passing the tenth mark, fortieth mark, and stopping at the fiftieth field mark on the miniature football field. Quickly he sought out the miniature figurines, locating them lined accordingly on the right wall for the world to see.
Smiling slightly as he eyed each small creation he appraised the detail of each figurine. The character modeling club had managed to catch the unique character and personality of each player on the team exactly. So many of them lined the shelf compared to when they first appeared and only four bared any resemblance to the actual players. Carefully and gingerly he reached for a few before pulling his hand back from them.
Below the tiny replicas slightly to the left, a glass frame encasing a worn red jersey adorned the space. The number one in white boldly stood against the brilliant red as scribbled words ran across the fabric each baring a name and words of pride. Nonchalantly he read each one from "Awesome MAX!" to "Congratulations everyone!" to "Deimon Devil Bats, the New Kings of Football! Ya-Ha!" Each caused his smile to grow larger and larger until a grin stretched across his face.
Once down with the jersey his eyes moved to the television beside it. The trouble they had gone through to get it out of the classroom and ended up with it being tossed out the window from the fourth floor. There had been a lot of running and screaming that day as well as a large amount of bullet shells and cursing. But they had managed to get the small set into the clubroom in one piece. Callused fingers gently rubbed the side of machine before roaming across the top removing what little dust it had.
Standing straight the young man took another glance at the club room eyeing the expanded parts with a bit of pride. So many memories were placed into each part of the room, each corner held a small piece of what used to be and stood testament of what it had all become. From three to many, from a dream to a reality, the Deimon Devil Bats had emerged victorious and forever immortalized… and it had all started with an eye shield.
Along side the jersey and television stood a large case silently proud. Inside a trophy glistened, gleaming in the darkness alongside a helmet with a green eye shield. It was a battle weary object, carrying the scars of many strong battles and victories. It spoke of the tears and sweat that they had to endure to earn the title of the best, of the lives it had changed and encouraged. It was a well worn object and admired by many.
Touching the glass reverently, he gaze past the helmet to a medium size frame behind it. Encased behind the smooth glass was a victory picture of all of them, each with a smile full of excitement, pride, and weariness after the long, hard battle. Medals hung around their necks as they crowded around the trophy, many in their trade mark poses. A moment eternally frozen, capturing the memory and emotions for all time, never fading or dwindling as the years pass by.
He glanced at the rest of the memorabilia neatly arranged within the case, a newspaper clipping heralding their victory, the winning play cards encased and arranged in order. The game ball signed by the members of the opposing team and their own. So many other things lined the case, tastefully and tactfully showing the love and joy of the game. Closing his eyes, he let the nostalgia sweep him away reliving each moment one by one.
The sound of a hand softly knocking on the doorway brought him out of his reverie and back to the present. Though the small, slim figure standing in the frame was shadowed in the darkness of the fading sun, he could still see her soft smile. Tender eyes kindly shone in understanding before the pink lips parted to speak.
"Hey, its time to go," shifting to one side she gave a comforting smile. "Everyone is waiting." She added softly, it wasn't to cause him to rush or to keep him from saying his goodbyes, but he allowed it be so. Nodding once he placed his hands in his pockets walking carefully towards the feminine figure only pulling out his hands when reaching her.
"Let's go." Placing his hand on the small of her back he gently pushed her forward following quietly behind. Using his other hand he slide the door shut, listening for the latch to fall in place before letting the handle go.
It was the last time he would ever see that club room, and though the building may wear, the player's names forgotten, and the love of the game fade, he knew for sure as time itself, that the Deimon Devil Bats would be forever remembered as a team of dreams.
---- The End ----
AN: Not meant to be something extravagant, just a sentimental thought that passed through my mind. I also didn't intend it to be anyone specific ((though I pictured Sena quite a few times)) as it could be anyone one of the players at any time. Anyway, let me know what you think. :)