Stage .2 Special Night Training
AN: Second chapter! Thanks for all the people who reviewed! This chapter is MUCH shorter than the first one…okay, maybe not that much. If it took too long then blame my mood; it was a while before I finally had the impulse to make the second chapter AND finish it. Heh.
Oden; a Japanese food consisting of ingredients like daikon radish and boiled eggs. Sold in food carts and local stores, it's a delicious, warming dish that any cold passerby would love. It's especially a booming business in the winter, as old man Oyassan, also a food carter, knows well.
What he didn't know, was that he was just about to make a valuable, new "customer."
---
Oyassan grunted as he carefully placed the washing pan on the ground, careful not to spill a drop. He had just moved his cart to the riverbank again, and was pleased with the flow of customers he had yesterday. No one could really keep on walking overhead when they catch a whiff of his bubbling oden…although they did tend to back away when they saw his usually grumpy face. Not exactly good for business.
There was a rustle of curtains behind him, followed by a polite voice:
"Umm, excuse me."
Oyassan turned around, trying to keep his face…um, happier.
"Yes, sir!" he said. "Welc…"
His voice trailed off at the sight of a short boy holding a plug in his hand, instead of the freezing customer he had expected. He didn't mean to, but his face fell back into its grumpy expression.
Sho smiled brightly, despite Oyassan's glare, and continued with his question.
"May I use your electricity?" he asked, breathing little clouds in the air.
"…"
Oyassan continued to glare at the boy for a few seconds, wondering what the boy really wanted the electricity for, especially since it was night. Finally, he turned away with an annoyed look as he expertly flipped a fish cake.
"All I sell here…," he grunted, putting the lid back on. "…are oden, yakitori, and sake!"
Sho quickly turned towards the exit, looking sheepish.
"R-right. Of course," he said meekly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bother you by asking."
Slightly surprised by the boy's polite attitude, Oyassan let curiosity get the better of him.
"Hey, wait!" Oyassan called after the boy, stopping him right in his tracks.
Sho turned around, and cocked his head inquiringly.
Oyassan lit his pipe, and stuck it his mouth, studying Sho all the while. Deciding he was a good boy, he took the pipe out with a small puff.
"A kid like you, at this time of day…," he said slowly. "…lookin' for some electricity. So, c'mon, what're you up ta?"
The boy fidgeted a little at the question, looking embarrassed.
"Ah, well, you see…"
---
"A TV?!"
Oyassan stared at the little black TV set tied to the cart, smoking his pipe quietly. He had just learned the boy's name along the way, and was already convinced that the boy, Sho, was the weirdest kid he had ever met. To bring a TV all the way here, and to not bring a battery pack…well, at least he had a plug. Plus, it was comical the way he acted: a mixture of discomfiture and respect.
"I get it," Oyassan said. "So whattaya wanna watch it for?"
"I want to train while I watch…," Sho explained, still a little embarrassed. "I totally forgot about electricity…"
Oyassan looked at him curiously.
"Train?" he asked.
Sho took off his duffel bag, and unzipped it.
"With this," he said, holding out the soccer ball from his bag.
"Ah, playing ball," Oyassan said with a huff of smoke.
Playing ball, Sho thought, amused. He had a feeling that the old man didn't know much about soccer, maybe even less than him.
"Wouldn't it be better, y'know, trainin' with yer friends, instead' a doin' it alone?" the old man asked.
Sho flinched inwardly at those words, feeling a small stab of pain as he thought that day that started everything.
Oyassan stared at Sho's face, reading his eyes and understanding his feelings. He held out a hand towards Sho, a hand of hidden sympathy, and grunted, "Gimme here."
Sho looked at the outstretched hand, surprised.
"Huh?" he said.
"Just gimme it," Oyassan repeated. "The plug!"
After a flash of understanding, Sho beamed at the offer and placed the plug in his hand.
"Thanks!" he said. "Oji-san!"
"Don't call me Oji-san," Oyassan grunted. "It's Oyassan!"
"Yes, Oyassan!" Sho grinned, obedient as ever.
---
"Oyassan! We've come to eat your oden!"
A flapping of fabric in the breeze, and two red faces peered inside.
"Welcome!" Oyassan glanced his customers, and plunked down two glasses of sake before them.
Tonight he had one regular customer, a loud, blond middle-aged man with glasses, who bought along a friend, a younger, shy-looking man with cropped black hair. The younger man glanced at him uncomfortably, clearly frightened by his grumpy face.
"You got the grumpy face…," the bland man joked loudly. "Like always! That evil face usually scares first timers." The young man smiled sheepishly at this. "They take off fast."
"Lemme alone!" Oyassan grunted as he piled oden on a plate.
The man chuckled and took a sip of his sake, urging his friend to do the same. Suddenly, he stopped midway, swallowing as he listened for something.
"Hmm?" he murmured, hearing a muffled pounding over and over again.
It can't be the sake; I barely started drinking! He thought, looking around.
The man jumped when he saw a boy kicking a soccer ball at the wall to his left, with a small TV playing a bright light on his small back. Following his stare, Oyassan commented as he put their plates on the table, "So that's called soccer, eh?"
The blond man laughed as he said another obscene joke, and continued drinking his sake. His friend, however, was more interested in the cord snaking out from under the cart, and followed its path with his eyes.
"An extension cord?" he muttered through a mouthful of oden, seeing the portable outlet.
Sho crouched in front of the TV, fast forwarding to his favorite moves with the remote.
"Oh!" he cried out at one point. "Ah, the feint!"
He watched in admiration as Ronaldo ran away with the ball on the screen.
"Ronaldo's incredible," he said to himself. "He passed through the first at Flamingo (a famous, professional soccer team in Brazil) when he was about my age."
Here, Sho began to drift off, his mind drifting with images of famous soccer players: Ronaldo, Brazilian representative; Del Piero, Italian representative; Battistuta, Argentine representative…
"World…World Cup, huh," he murmured to himself.
…Raul, Spanish representative; Joel Kaeff, French representative; Savichevich, Yugoslavian representative…
"That's not far out of reach anymore, is it?"
…Kanu, Nigerian representative; Zidane, French representative; and Shiarrah, English representative…
"The field where the World's top class players play…and the winner's stage – the Japanese team's going to stand there! If one really wants to seize it, it's reachable! The dream can come true."
Then suddenly, he saw himself in the future…a famous soccer player, staring at the crowd as he runs by…at the height of 190 centimeters. Could he ever reach that dream? The height, maybe not, but to run in to field like that…
Sho snapped back into the cold night, his face red with self-embarrassment.
"Now's not the time to gaze absentmindedly," he scolded himself, sticking his face closer to the screen. "Gotta practice! Gotta!"
It was almost fifteen minutes later when Sho stood up, confident that he knew how to do Ronaldo's feint. Instructions rolled across his mind as he moved, looking almost graceful as he drew up one leg, and swung it around the ball.
Ronaldo's turn is like…drawing an opponent to one side, and as he gets closer…use the back of the leg axle…
Balance on one leg, other leg extended.
…and make the pass to the other foot. Now, quickly to the back…
Extended leg swing in, balanced leg tense…THAK! The leg rammed into the ball, but the balanced leg was still there, causing both feet to tangle beneath the ball like a knot, sending Sho face forward onto the grass. His feet kicked at the air for a moment, releasing the ball, but also releasing the torrent of laughter from the Oyassan's customers.
"HAHAHA!"
"HAHAHAHAHA!"
Oyassan cracked a small smile, amused. "Heh!" he chuckled.
Sho dusted himself off, and looked in their direction, grinning sheepishly. Oyassan quickly looked away, trying to seem concerned instead.
"Good luck, kid!" the obnoxious customer howled as Sho walked away. "The World Cup is almost there!"
Sho, however, silently agreed with him.
Yeah, there's a world of difference between watching it and actually doing it, he thought, trying to search for the soccer ball in the dark. It's hard to copy the top class player's tricks. A small frown fell on his face. I'm so small, I'm disadvantaged if I compete head-on. I've got to learn other forms of feint. I've got to use speed and technique to get past those opponents!
Oyassan stared after the boy thoughtfully, as if he could the boy's mind.
Sho found the ball, and started to work on other moves, though he failed as miserably on them as he did on Ronaldo's feint.
Zico-feint. He hunched up his shoulders, and tapped the ball directly between his feet, making him look quite silly. Stop the ball in-between me and an opponent for a second…then the draw the ball like this…
He stopped before he could trip again, however, and tried heel-lifting.
Heel-lifting is really difficult, he decided a moment later, when the ball did nothing but bounce against the side of his feet.
Meanwhile, the blond man was laughing loudly, while his friend stifled it all behind his hand.
"HAHAHAHAHA! I can't help it. It's great – kid!"
"Hee, hee, we shouldn't laugh at him…"
Oyassan glance at them irritably, their laughter starting to get on his nerves. He sighed, and watched Sho practice, faintly amazed at his spirit.
---
"Good food," the shy man praised, and hiccupped slightly as he stepped past the curtains.
"Thanks," Oyassan muttered.
"It may be spring, but it's cold!" the other man commented loudly, before receiving his change and leaving the stall too.
"Welcome…"
Oyassan grunted, collecting the dishes before dumping them in the wash bin from earlier on. The water had gone colder, but his wrinkled hands were use to the treatment. He looked up, and stared at Sho, alone, and still practicing.
It's been five hours, he thought. When is he going to stop?
Sho breathed heavily, his huff audible in the quiet night silence. He stopped, and bent over in exhaustion, sweat creating rivers down his face. He took the moment to reflect on his training.
When I think too much, my moves become forced. It won't do as a feint…I'm clumsy…I've got to practice until I can move without thinking.
He straightened up, and wiped the sweat on his chin.
But, there's no use in trying blindly. I've got to imagine an opponent trying to steal my ball. I've got to make this as real as I can.
Sho turned on the TV, squatting in front of the screen. He stared intensely at the screen, and didn't notice the familiar figure jogging overhead. Tatsuya stopped for a moment, and looked down, watching.
Sho's been here all along, he thought. I-I thought he disappeared…I wanted to have a return-match, but…
Sho fiddled with the buttons, pressing rewind repeatedly.
What's his next plan?
---
"Oyassan…Thank you very much."
Oyassan picked up the trash can and looked up, seeing a dirty and sweaty Sho walking towards him, digging for something in his pocket as he talked.
"Oh…" said Oyassan.
"And, er…" Sho took his hand out of his pocket and offered him 1000 yen. (Not very good with Japanese Money, so is this correct?) "Here's…"
Oyassan looked away, and said sharply, "Yer just a kid. Ferget it."
Sho nodded apologetically, troubled that he could repay the man for using his electricity.
"Sorry."
"Humph!!"
"Let me help," Sho said, and took off the curtain bar off the stall.
"No need!" Oyassan said.
"But…"
"I said, no need!" he snapped, a little more harshly.
Sho rested the bar awkwardly against his shoulder, rubbing his head as he offered a sheepish grin.
"No…," he mumbled. "It's just that…if I come again…tomorrow and maybe the day after…and again, and…"
"…"
He trailed off, embarrassed. Oyassan sighed inwardly; there was no other way on how he looked at it.
---
The sky bled a tine of reddish orange mixed with light blue and thinly stretched clouds. People wandered the streets, arriving home from work. Down at the riverbank, once again, there was the rhythmic sound of ball against wall; SMAKK, BAM, SMAAK!
Sho aimed a vicious kick at the ball, creating another imprint along with the other dozen.
SMAKK!
The ball spiraled sharply to the left, bouncing once and far. Oyassan, watching the whole time, stopped and picked up the ball and held it out boy.
"Thank…you…very…much…," he huffed between breaths, smiling through the sweat.
Oyassan watched him take the ball, and decided to take the chance to ask him.
"Why are you alone…working so hard…?" he asked.
Sho stared for a second, surprised. Finally, he smiled sadly, remembering the incident days ago.
"I…I'm such a lousy player…," he said. "…I've got to work more than twice as hard as everyone else."
"…"
Oyassan looked away and at the wall, admiring the marks.
"So, this here's the opponent you're fighting against?" he said. There was a slight pause. "Pretty big."
Sho stared at him, his expression of surprise, and awe. Suddenly, Oyassan turned away, and walked towards the stall.
"I'm closing my shop," he called over his shoulder. "Gimme your hand."
"Yes!" Sho replied, running after him.
And there, unnoticed, Tatsuya stood watch, like he always did. A bit stalker-like to some, he was really being a sort of guardian angel…well, either that or he was just curious and bored.
For the next several days, Sho practiced nearby Oyassan's shop, and sometimes even sat with the customers. It seemed like a funny blur with all the actions people did when they saw him. Some were typical.
"Is that your grandson? So cute!" a red-face old lady had cooed when she saw Sho, earning some wide-eyed glances from Sho and Oyassan.
Some were pretty helpful.
"You know, I used to play soccer," a cheerful man had said, joining Sho in his little game.
And some…were less pleasant.
"Say, turn on the TV," a slightly drunk man hiccupped, pointing at Sho. "I want to see the baseball game."
"Oh, please," Oyassan had groaned exasperatedly, pulling the man back into his seat.
All in all, Sho's presence made nights a little more fun, even making the rude customers a little tolerable. The effect seemed to show on Oyassan's face, making it less wrinkled and grouchy.
"Oyassan, you're looking pretty happy lately," his current customer remarked.
Oyassan glanced at the middle-aged man, and turned away growling.
"No way," he said. "There's nothing different."
The man smiled good-naturedly through his glasses.
"That so?" he said. He raised his glass, and glanced to side where Sho could be seen, training as always. "That soccer kid's still working hard. What's it been…a week now?"
Oyassan nodded in reply, and started turning fresh oden.
Sho closed his eyes, imagining, and trying to force the images into reality. He opened his eyes, and saw what only he could see: two tall opponents, spread out on the field, and their blurred faces fixed on him.
He charged at them, his face intense. The first opponent raised a leg to steal the ball, but Sho pushed it behind him, hiding it. He dashed away, but the remaining opponent blocked his way, stance wide in defense. Sho raised his right foot…but then his left connected with the ball, sending it around the defense. He ran past the opponent, and broke into a grin.
Good! He thought. I'm doing it five out of 10 times!
A bright beam of light burst in his face, causing him to cover his eyes.
"!"
"You!" called a deep, commanding voice.
Sho cracked open his eyes, and squinted at the police officer pointing the flashlight at him.
"What're you doing here at this time of night?" he growled. "Besides…" He saw the TV, and moved the light towards it. "That TV! Where'd you get it?"
"It's mine…," Sho replied. "From home," he quickly added.
The officer glanced at him in disbelief.
"And you bought it here?" he said. "Sounds pretty suspicious to me." He took a step closer to Sho, his face wary. "And there have been reports thefts lately…by minors. Eh?"
"Hey!" Sho protested, backing away. "I didn't do it."
The officer gripped his wrist firmly, and said, "I'll listen to your excuses at the police station."
"Ah!" Sho cried.
"Will you wait a second!" a harsh voice snapped, and a wrinkled hand grabbed the officer's hand with a KRUNCH. Oyassan glared up at the man, and said calmly, "There's nothin' suspicious about this kid. He's my grandson!"
Sho looked at Oyassan in surprise. Oyassan…, he thought.
The officer looked at Oyassan, slightly frightened by the old man's face.
"You're the man who sells the food…" he said.
"He waits fer me to finish up…," he growled, ignoring the comment. "…by practicin' his soccer!" He trusted his face closer, somehow becoming scarier. "So don't mix him up with those idiot thieves."
"Oohhh," the officer said nervously, pulling away. "I didn't know he was your grandson…please forgive me." He backed away towards his bicycle, looking embarrassed. "…Anyhow, keep an eye out for the robbers. Later then." He tipped his hat awkwardly, and pedaled away.
Oyassan spat comically in the retreating officer's direction, sounding irritated.
"Right off he starts suspectin' you," he muttered. "That's rude. Geez!"
Sho stared at the man, and felt a weird happiness of being understood and of having someone's trust."
"Oyassan…"
Oyassan looked up.
"Thank you…," Sho murmured. "…for believing me…"
"Hey, I can tell just by looking what kind' a kid you are!" He shrugged. "First off, not even an idiot would bring here somethin' he stole every day."
Sho grinned. "That's true…"
Oyassan gestured for him to follow, walking towards the stall.
"C'mon," he said, moving the flap aside. "You gotta be hungry after practicin' so much. It's my treat. Come on…"
He turned around and froze.
"!"
Two teenagers stood still in shock, paused in mid-actions: the nearest one, wearing a beanie, quickly chomped the oden that was in his hand. The friend, wearing a helmet, held a wad of money tightly in his hand.
"HEY! YOU!!," Oyassan roared. "My money…"
The helmet one ran, yelling over his shoulder at the remaining boy.
"No good, man. Let's split!"
Oyassan dashed around the cart and leaped on top of the beanie boy, sending him face first to the ground with a heavy THUNK.
"Idiot!" the other cursed, hopping on his motorcycle.
The fallen one growled and gathered up small, sharp rocks in his hand.
"Let go!" he yelled, twisting around to throw the handful at Oyassan. "You old geezer!"
"Whoa!!" Oyassan exclaimed as it rained down on him.
Sho started to run after the now escaping motor-cycler, but stopped when he heard the cry.
"Oyassan!" he yelled, turning around.
"I-I'm okay!" The old man struggled with the beanie boy, who was trying to bash him with a dangerous looking rock. "Just get…him!!"
Sho looked back and forth at the retreating thief, and fight, unsure of what to do.
"B—but…," he stammered.
Money's not important!
Sho turned around and ran back, about to help Oyassan. He had taken a few steps when the air whistled and a round streak of black and white shot through the air and collided with the helmet boy's head, knocking the helmet off.
"UNGHHH!"
The motorcycle tipped, and threw the boy off, sending both crashing to the ground noisily. Oyassan gave a vicious punch to the struggling beanie boy underneath, knocking him out cold. Sho looked up, surprised to see the helmet boy sprawled several inches away from his battered motorcycles, it wheels spinning.
The soccer ball from before hitched a ride on a white sneakered foot, leaped up, and landed neatly in an outstretched hand.
"Don't expect me to keep looking after you, Sho…," Tatsuya said coolly, tucking the ball under his arm.
"Tatsuya?!"
---
"Um, sorry about the earlier…"
Sho smiled brightly at the sheepish officer, watching him slam the car door shut, making the two, unconscious thieves disappear.
"Not at all," he said, not really upset anymore.
Oyassan looked straight into Tatsuya's face, and asked bluntly,
"You his friend?"
Tatsuya stared back, looking disinterested.
"Why do you care?" he muttered.
Oyassan, however, smiled softly in reply.
"I don't get why he's training alone. Y'know…" He glanced at Sho, who was still chatting with the officer. "…I think he's a great kid. It would be nice if you took care'a him."
Tatsuya stared off into the distance. Sho came back, scratching his head as he told them that the cop had apologized to him.
Tatsuya glanced at the old man standing next to him.
"Yep."
---
Oyassan flipped the oden idly, listening to his current customer's, two middle-aged gentlemen, conversation about World Cup.
"They shouldn't start off on the defensive just 'cause the opponent's the Argentinean team…," one was saying. "Gotta play aggressive. The Japanese team's battle formation at the World Cup should be 4-4-2, don't you think?"
Oyassan snorted in disagreement.
"On the other hand, it's tougher with just one Boranch," he mumbled. (Boranch is a Middle Fielder who is in charge of defending when the game/play/battle reaches its highest intensity. Player named Motohiro Yamanguchi of Japanese team is known as Boranch.)
The men reared back, staring in shock.
"Wh…what's going on, Oyassan-san?" a man asked, surprised at his knowledge.
"Nothing's going on." Oyassan crossed his arms, and stared at them with an almost haughty look. "Too bad if you didn't know that."
Irony coming from a man who didn't know that a couple of weeks ago.
*~World's Super Stars~*
"The World Cup is a stage where the world's super stars will show their best plays to everyone across the globe. Now, let me introduce the players Sho idolizes.
First of all, Ronaldo. At the age of 17, he made his debut as a Brazilian representative, and he went on to receive glories as the King Scorer at the Dutch League, as well as the Spanish League. Currently, he plays at Italian Serie a Intel. He's a first class player on every front, and it's not an exaggeration to get it back from him.
Next the Italian representative, Del Piero. Although small in size, he as keen, strategic eyes. The left side of the penalty area is especially called "Del Piero Zone" because if he shoots from that spot, he never fails to make a goal.
The Argentine representative, Battistuta, is a genuine striker. His powerful shot using his right foot is worth seeing at least once.
In addition, there are many great players, such as French representatives, Zidane and Joel Kaef, the English representative, Sharrah, the Spanish representative, Raul, and the Nigerian representative, Kanu."
-- Tatsuya Watanabe ("Winning Run")
AN: Some of you probably noticed that some of this stuff wasn't in the book (dialogue, short scenes); that's because sticking to the script is harder than I thought. It makes sense in pictures, but you need more stuff to make sense in words and make a good story. So…extra stuff, I guess, but maybe not the kind you expected. . Monica's fault for the bad soccer scenes.
URGENT: Some idiot stole my Whistle, vol. 1. So two choices: continue writing using translations online even though they're inaccurate, or discontinue until I get that book back!