Hakuchou's POV
The day had started out mockingly innocent.
A familiar, homely melody of violin wafted from the front seats, which I recognized easily as Sakurai Akane's newest single "For My Blackbird". My mother hummed along peacefully. I, having been exposed to Sakurai's music since I was out of the womb due to my mother's obsession with said artist and other contemporary violinists, subconsciously hummed along as I looked out the tinted back window of our glossy white Honda. Watercolor orange blended with with soft sheer magenta to create a lightbox that projected birds and trees as shadow puppets I could admire from the safety of our secluded car interior.
"Stop kicking my chair, Hakuchou," my father's gruff voice broke the harmony that my mother and I had created with the radio. Caught in the act, I realized that not just had I been humming, I had also been subconsciously keeping count with the song. It just so happens that in this case, I had accidentally been swinging my legs back and forth, my usual way of coping with anticipation.
"Sorry Tou-san," I said cheerfully, immediately switching the beat into an internal metronome, my legs dropping immediately into passivity. There was no way I wanted to ruin my father's special day; life as an office worker was the epitome of mundanity in Fukuoka city life. I turned my face back to the window just in time to see the sun dip below Mount Fuji, obscuring the world in a cloak of black velvet except for the blinding white streetlights and monotone car lights.
Yesterday at breakfast, my father had announced over our bland bowls of white rice and natto that, he, out of all the two hundred employees at the company office he worked for, had somehow managed to win a raffle of three tickets to the final match of the Football Frontier, which would take place in Tokyo. This was a strange but funny miracle considering the fact that he hadn't even bothered to enter the raffle due to his usual, almost comical bad luck, and that our family had never considered we'd ever be watching this match live as none of us had been following the matches of the Football Frontier.
The Suishous weren't a soccer family, or a hardcore fan of any competitive sports for that matter, but nevertheless my father was still delighted that he would be able to attend this event. Soccer always had a contagious presence in Japan, after all, being a timeless sport that had its roots deep in our country's history. Not to mention, those of his coworkers who were too poor to afford tickets would probably ask him details for the next three days, and who doesn't like attention? As for me, there's no reason why I should refuse a prestigious offer if it was free, even if I'd probably have no idea what was going on and accidentally cheer when the wrong team scored. Not like we were siding with any team, really, but my dad was preparing to cheer for Teikoku because they had apparently dominated the football world for decades, not that I would know of course. Heck, I don't even know which team was Teikoku, nor what the name of the other school was for that matter.
Tucking away a loose strand of my long silver hair, I peered down at my ticket. Now that my view had been rendered to a bore, I observed the small cardstock note with my crystal blue eyes in detail for the first time. At the left was a boring, solid colored block that contained date, time, location, and our seats with the logo of the Football Frontier watermarked in pale blue gray, while on the right was another rectangle, this one having a soccer ball pattern and a faint, pre-cut, dotted line. The large rectangle in the middle was left to advertise the teams who would be competing today, as well as the sponsor nobody cared about in a tiny box at the corner.
Printed in vivid full color were four boys, two on each side of the ticket, partitioned by a dramatic bolt of white lightning down the middle. Most notable was probably the fit, tanned, blonde boy who was depicted in an aerial shoot surrounded by obviously photoshopped flames. Below and slightly obscured by the flames was a porcelain-pale male, significantly scrawnier than the first boy, with shoulder length black hair and a murderous ruby glare. On the other side, a feral brunette was seen punching the ground to create another digital effect, this one however a fortress of pure gold light, and above him was a smirking boy from the torso up, enlarged to be the biggest out of all four with crossed arms, strange goggles, and a flowing red cape that looked more like a costume than fitness attire.
Even if I probably wouldn't understand anything about what was going on in the game, at least there would be hot guys to cheer for. Hot semi-celebrity guys my age. Even if those goggles were a little too bizarre to be a fashion do. Even if the blonde guy's eyebrows were obviously distasteful. Even if the brunette's Cheeto-orange tattoos were super tacky. Even if the pale guy totally failed in pulling off the vampire style and rather looked much like a sickly anorexia patient instead.
I took a picture of it and texted it to my best friend Misako, whom I knew would appreciate the eye candy even though she already had a steady boyfriend. She replied almost immediately with three consecutive heart eyes emojis, and then a selfie with said boyfriend that showed they were going to watch the match together on television at his house, even though I knew that she, just like me, barely cared for soccer.
I felt a tinge of jealousy, not because she was with him (I fully respected the girl code, and frankly her boyfriend wasn't my type anyway), but because she was with someone. I've been forever alone since Kuroda Yarimichi dumped me two months into the school year saying that he had fallen for another first year, however not without implying that he had dumped me because he found me too brash contrary to the girl he had originally thought I was. It had turned into a full blown fight at the back of the school, the both of us screaming at each other, most of it me accusing him of dating me only for my looks and him refuting my claims by saying this was exactly the reason why he couldn't stand being with me anymore. Apparently, according to Misako who gotten inside details from one of her boyfriend's friends, Kuroda had spread some nasty stories to the soccer team afterward and was the reason why no one would ask me out ever since the breakup.
I swallowed the sourness. I was over Kuroda, that manwhore. I was better off without him anyway.
A sudden stop jerked my body forward and destroyed my daydreaming of a whimsical little fairy tale that had been cut off as I gazed into deep onyx eyes while Kuroda glared at us bitterly, nearly throwing my forehead into the back of my father's seat. The ticket fluttered out of my hand and landed on the backseat floor. Frowning, I bent over and reached down to pick it up, but another sudden rush launched my head into my father's chairback.
"Ouch!"
I tasted blood in my mouth. Wrinkling my nose, I took a gulp of water from my water bottle to wash away the blood and pain on my tongue. It would probably be sore for days.
"Sorry Hakuchou, seems like there's a bit of traffic problems." I caught my father's worried glance in the rearview mirror and shook my head, mustering a smile. He smiled back, but his eyebrows were still furrowed in perplexity as his pupils dashed across the road.
Another bump spilled the water from open bottle all over the backseat and made me choke on the water in my mouth. Coughing, I squinted my eyes at the darkness outside, trying to decipher what traffic problems were causing me such discomfort.
"I wonder what happened?" my mother phrased what was on all three of our minds out loud, not directed to anyone in particular.
"Probably just a traffic jam. There's so much people it's to be expected," my father answered, his face still scrunched up in anxiety.
Sakurai had become a nuisance to my ears now, amounting to no more than white noise as it became a measure stimulating anxiety, compared to the earlier upbeat tune. My mother's usually serene face, also reflected in the rearview mirror, matched the mood, though I couldn't tell whether it was because she had become inebriated by the apprehensive music or had it been caused by the traffic situation.
Now our car came to an abrupt stop. Both my parents went still like mannequins that held shifting facial displays of concern, confusion, then finally, surprise.
Something about their expression, especially the tinge of fear in the last, immediately sent a shiver of unease down my spine. "Kaa-san, Tou-san-" I was cut off as I leaned forward to see what was going on when I saw a blinding flash of light.
I only remembered the frenzied honking of cars and the fear rushing to my head, then being hit by such a big impact that it knocked both the air and consciousness out of me, all while Sakurai's wailing crescendo reached its ear-piercing peak.
As my body and soul fell as one, my last glimpse of consciousness was that of being held in a sea of blood as the black haired boy on the ticket seemed to stare back in an unreadable expression that could almost be mistaken for remorse.
