CHAPTER NINE:

Force


His shooting is as sharp as ever, and it seems as if there's nothing amiss, but Ooshiba knows it's far from the truth. Tomorrow is the deadline, and Kimishita still stubbornly refuses to live with him; even more so now than before. The coach finally cracked and informed the entire team of their vice-captain's immediate plight.

Of course Kimishita is furious – who wouldn't be when their explicit instruction is defied so deliberately? But then again, Ooshiba thinks that it's the right thing to do. His vice-captain needs all the help he can get; that much he agrees with Mizuki. He and his previous captain had a private talk before the latter went back to his J-League team's dormitory, reminding him to be sensitive enough to Kimishita's feelings.

Feelings huh. He thinks bemusedly. What feelings? It's not like they're best friends or something. There's no point in pussyfooting around someone who knows he's in dire straits and yet won't budge when presented with the most practical solution to his problem on the face of the earth. I don't fucking care about the idiot's feelings about his housing woes – he just needs to live somewhere until he can stand on his own two feet. He grits his teeth in annoyance, snorting as he approaches Kimishita's end of the field.

Nobody offered their place to their vice-captain since they're all living with their parents, except for Tsukamoto who was obviously sweating from nervousness while saying his place may be okay if his mother says it is. Kimishita, predictably, shoots it down harshly, reminding the boy of his primary duty to his parent. Ooshiba thinks it's possible for him to stay there, but somehow, he's relieved that the other turned it down instantly. With Kimishita's temperament, he won't be able to live in a place where he needs to watch his mouth all the time anyway. Only father could love. He snickers inwardly, but instantly sobers up when he remembers his private conversation with Mizuki about the death of Kimishita's father. It's a good thing coach just mentioned the housing thing and nobody asked a lot of questions. One less drama for this guy.

He can see their regular goalkeeper, Nakajin, trembling with something akin to fear (but not quite) as he waits for another kick. He has a feeling that it's not from morbid fascination at all, considering Kimishita's penchant for making unorthodox shots that come from the most unexpected of directions. It's a skill Ooshiba knows he can't copy, and he resents the other for it somewhat. It would be a wonderful addition to his arsenal, but he knows it's impossible without exhaustive practice sessions late into the night. Daily. For ten fucking years straight. I'm not an idiot. I know my limits. He muses. Maybe in ten years, but not now.

Heaving a great breath, he stops and waits until the balls are lined up straight; before Kimishita's shot disappears into the goal. Ten balls and Seiseki's vice-captain manages to get four no-touches and one touch in. Nakajin fights hard and saves four cleanly, with one near-miss, something Ooshiba respects knowing how diverse the shots are. He spots the tremor of exhaustion shaking the younger man's frame upon sight of Kimishita taking out more balls from the bin. But since he's a magnanimous captain, he decides to take pity on him. "Nakajin, take a water break!" He calls out, hooking a thumb toward the bleachers.

He sees Kimishita stiffen for a moment before resuming, lining the balls straight, this time nearer the goalkeeper-less goal. "Oi, doofus." Ooshiba calls him casually, brows rising slightly when instead of turning to him the other prepares to make the first shot. "Hey, idiot." He tries again, but the swish of the net is his only answer. He clicks his tongue as he watches shot after successful shot, until he decides enough is enough and runs to the goalpost, facing the other's quiet wrath with his hands spread wide as if to block the next shot. He sees his vice-captain's eyes narrow, twin balls of fire seemingly spitting silent but deadly expletives. If looks could kill.

A ball whizzes by the side of his face, the rush of wind ruffling his auburn hair as he stands his ground firmly, an immovable wall, waiting for the other to deal his best shot. A part of him wonders why they aren't touching his body when he's right there; an obstacle, right smack in the middle, to be overcome. Kimishita knows Ooshiba has no capacity to block his shots, and yet.

And yet.

Their gazes meet as the last projectile goes soaring through the air, sliding sideways as if to hit the left post. On cue, his body involuntarily shifts leftward and his arm reaches for it. The ball hits his wrist, dead center on his pulse, and ricochets back to the other end of the field, away from where both of them stood shell-shocked into complete breathless silence. Neither of them moves, gazes still interlocking, as they process what had just transpired.

And yet.

"I win." He finally declares, straightening from his awkward position after a long heavily-charged moment. "I finally caught you." A slow grin creeps into his face, eyes sparkling with ill-concealed pride. A look of confusion flashes through Kimishita's eyes before recognition dawns and his jaws drop from shock.

"The fuck was that. It… it doesn't count! It's a one-time thing!" Seiseki's vice-captain stammers to cover his astonishment. Ooshiba chuckles as he saunters casually toward him, noticing the small step backward as he approaches. "I can't believe you still –"

"Still remember?" He stops before him, towering almost ominously but with a mischievous smile on his face. "Of course I do. How could I forget?" During their middle school, when Kimishita's team lost to his in a friendly football match, Ooshiba gloated knowing he scored a goal right under the other's nose. The furious firebrand marched over to him, kicking him in the shin and toppling him over as ugly tears streamed down his eyes and snot from his nose. Kimishita screamed bloody murder then, growling at Ooshiba that he will never be able to steal a ball or stop him when he's in possession ever again. "It has been one of my goals for a long while now."

The expression on Kimishita's face is unreadable, and for once in his life (who is he kidding, it's all the time) Ooshiba wishes that he can decipher each and every passing emotion on his face. He fancies the wide eyes signifying astonishment, the drain of colour from his usually rose-touched cheeks is shock, and the gaping lips –

They look soft. Comes the brief observation. Too bad it's so filthy. Unlike my mine. Mine are perfectly golden. Still, he has to stamp the urge to touch them just to see if they are as soft as they look. Before, he usually dismissed them as dry, but today is different for some reason. Today, he is looking at them properly and noticing they're more different than he initially perceived. His fingers twitch restlessly, and in an instinct for self-preservation, he ends up covering this unforeseen fascination with a brighter, more arrogant grin. He makes a show of tossing his head high enough that his nose is upturned, as if looking down on his vice-captain.

The effect is instantaneous; in the blink of an eye, his head is whipped sideways by a kick to the head. Eyes sharpening as he fights the stinging pain, he swung and feels his fist connect with Kimishita's cheek with a satisfying thwack.

Their regularly-scheduled brawl has started.

xoxoxo

By the time the rest of the team manages to pull them apart, they are both sporting scattered bruises and split lips. They are made to sit on separate benches in the locker room, far from each other's reach. As usual, they received a droning lecture from coach Nakazawa, and as usual, it was in one ear and out the other. It's easier that way… and less stressful.

As if he needs more stress bothering him. Kimishita is enough. Any more and his head will implode. With quick jerky movements, Ooshiba takes out his headphones before stuffing his practice uniform in his bag and zipping it soundly close. He needs to fill his head with things other than his vice-captain's misplaced stubbornness, and music is the best filler available. He needs to listen to something other than his inner voices that seem to be extremely active when dealing with unnecessary trouble.

He puts them on, gets up, and settles in a corner, closing his eyes as he lets the stream of sound filter into his ears while leaning heavily against the wall. He takes a bit of solace from the cold stone sticking to his back, and does his best to relax. Soon, the excited voices around him start to fade one by one until it becomes dead silent shortly. He presumes that he's finally alone with only his thoughts for company, an extremely welcome notion.

Truth be told, he's not someone who likes taking on responsibility. In fact, being a captain of such an unruly bunch of idiots has been a taxing affair, and he still has the rest of the year to be their leader. I'm great. I'm sure it will become easier over time. He muses. In the next couple of weeks, I bet they'd be worshipping the ground I walk on, on a regular basis. All except Kimishita… definitely. He knows the other has no inclination whatsoever to do such thing especially with the entire burden he's carrying. The only chance the other would switch his stand would be when he becomes his hero.

Idly, Ooshiba wonders what Kimishita would be like when he's more agreeable. Would he be the praising type or the reluctant blushing guy often depicted in manga? Would his tone soften or would it be more excitable in conversations? Would he stop picking fights with him and do whatever he wants him to without question? There are endless possibilities and Ooshiba can't help but imagine each and every one of them. He knows for sure that there is another side to Kimishita he rarely sees. It's the one never directed at him, but at some point evident in the presence of Mizuki and even the insolent brat Kazama. He stretches his legs with a sigh. Hurry up and become the best, Ooshiba Kiichi, so you'll know. He reminds himself. Become his hero so he wouldn't find fault with you ever again. It's not as if he's doing everything because of Kimishita. He just wants his vice-captain to be proud of what he has achieved over the years. He was the one who told Ooshiba long ago that he has limitless potential in football, and he doesn't want such expectations to dwindle in any way. It may be that Kimishita's part of it, but certainly not completely. He gathers, if the guy thinks it, then everyone must be doing the same.

Maybe.

One thing he knows for sure is that being a hero makes him important, and important people are considered stars shining brightly down on unsightly commoners below. The idea of being amazing and acknowledged at one particular sport is, in his mind, the best thing one can get out of life. He understands that he's not the best at academics (but he's not as stupid as Kimishita thinks he is, thank you very much – he can take him on any way and he's not afraid after finally memorizing his tables last year) like his parents or his older sister, but football is something new, refreshing, and vigorous – something that would make him an exceptional individual in his family tree.

A small smile graces his lips at the thought, opening his eyes and focusing on the potted plant resting beside the one of the lockers. Now if only the idiot would cooperate. He notes wryly. Maybe I need to pound some sense into him so he'd give.

Ooshiba stands up and brushes the seat of his shorts.

Gotta hurry, time's a-wasting.

xoxoxo

He's half-expecting Kimishita to be home at this time, but part of him wanted to see him elsewhere. It's probably because home at the moment would be gone by tomorrow, and seeing him there while wandering inside the shop is difficult to swallow after all these years of such familiar motion. Ooshiba holds his breath as he rounds the block hoping that the worst picture in his mind wouldn't be what he'd find. He takes a deep preparatory breath before peeking around the corner, eyes latching onto the dark windows of the Kimishita household.

A sigh of relief escapes his lips, but is soon replaced with choking helplessness when he spies his vice-captain sitting at the bottom step of the stairs leading to the second floor. The stairway is adhered to the side of the house, and Kimishita is leaning on the shingle wall with his arms around his folded knees, forehead resting on them as if asleep. He looks completely miserable, and for the first time in his privileged life, Ooshiba finds it in himself to sympathize with all his heart.

He fidgets, quite unsure on what to do, eyes scanning his surroundings to note whether people notice. Seeing that virtually no one is around, he decides to move closer and wake the other up. He rationalizes his burgeoning feelings as the recognition that he team needs Kimishita for his kicking and passing talents and it just won't do for him to get sick at this point in time. After all, Ooshiba needs him fully-functioning during competitions or his legacy as a captain won't be complete. Yeah right. Delude yourself, why don't you?

"Oi, shithead."

There is no response, not even an inch of movement. Briefly, he wonders if Kimishita is indeed asleep; if he is, such a deep sleep it must be. "Oi." He nudges the other's foot with his, but there is no response either. He inwardly debates whether it would help to just haul the guy up and shake him to submission, but decides against it, opting to climb up the stairs to the Kimishita household and rattle the door open. He wonders if it's locked, but finds it open instead, the door ajar by the time he touches it. Alarmed, he immediately stomps his way down, standing before his vice-captain with resolve.

"Get up." He growls, earning a slight flinch from his uncharacteristically hard tone. So, you really are ignoring me, you fucking idiot. Ooshiba has no time to play games. He has to get Kimishita to accept his graciousness and deal with whatever repercussions would arise in the future. "Get up." He repeats, gritting his teeth as the other continues to remain unresponsive. "Get. Up." He gripes, stooping low to grasp Kimishita by the arm and hauling him to his feet forcibly. He glares at him, eyes peering into his face, expression obscured by disheveled chestnut hair. "Why the hell are you being so difficult?" Ooshiba shakes him in annoyance.

At that, Kimishita looks up, eyes spitting fire. "Oh I'm sorry, your highness. I will be officially homeless by tomorrow. I'm sick and tired of explaining myself in midst of the pity party after everyone got wind of my slew of problems, so excuse me for being difficult!"

Ooshiba purses his lips angrily. "You're troubling everyone."

"Nobody would be troubled if Nakazawa-san didn't say anything." Kimishita glares at him just as angrily.

He grabs his other arm leans forward to meet his flashing gaze head-on. "Not because of that, you fucking idiot." He gives him another short, but forceful shake, careful not to rattle him too much lest he really loses the last vestiges of brain matter he has left. Heaven knows his vice-captain needs more of it right now when he's being an irrational ass. "Everyone wants to help you in some way, but you keep insisting you don't need any!"

"Oh, c'mon, you saw their faces, Kiichi. Don't tell me you think they honestly want to help?" Kimishita snorts. "Besides, I don't need anyone's pity. I can't be indebted to anyone. I can survive alone."

"That's the stupidest thing you've ever said, Kimishita." Ooshiba sighs, head drooping tiredly. "It's not that they don't want to help you, they've always been afraid of you since you're the monster lurking in their football dreams. Are you seriously telling me that everyone who protested against my captaincy hates you?"

"Their faces earlier spoke volumes."

"Have you ever thought that they felt helpless? They don't have any idea how to help you, and then you had to shoot their ideas and talk them down. They must be feeling even worse afterward; Coach Nakazawa, Mizuki-san, Nakajin, Kurusu, – even the brat Kazama and weakling Bakamoto!"

Ooshiba watches the play of emotions on Kimishita's face, wondering if perhaps he has finally reached him. The planes flatten into a quietly searching look, and the fire in his eyes subsides into grief… and something else he cannot name. "And you."

"And me."

He feels a sense of déjà vu. He wonders if this is the same as when Kimishita asked before on whether or not it's pity driving him to help. For the most part, he's offended. Am I really that much of a monster in your eyes, idiot? It makes him want to squeeze some sense into the other's fluffy head.

Kimishita closes his eyes with a sigh, sagging until Ooshiba wonders if he would fall bonelessly onto the ground if he lets his arms go. He feels as heavy as the burdens plaguing him. "I don't understand you."

"Hmm? What's there to understand? I mean, I'm perfect, so yeah. Just think of perfection and I'm it. No need to nitpick." Ooshiba frowns, shoulders relaxing without relinquishing his hold. "Besides, it's an opportunity to convert you so you'd finally become one of my minions."

There's a sense of relief when Kimishita chuckles incredulously. "Minion, you say. Eh. You wish." He scoffs. "So that's your version of 'worried' and 'curious', huh."

"Oh, you'll accept it eventually. It's only natural to adore the Great Me. I'm extremely lovable; unlike you." Ooshiba grins slowly, canines standing out in harsh relief like a mischievous little boy. "So it's more like we both need this cohabitation thing. You need shelter and I need to change your fucking stubborn mind about the finer points of my shining personality."

"You sure are spouting a lot of big words today. I hope your brain is not close to atrophying and this is its last hurrah." Kimishita grins back awkwardly, expression still a little bit troubled. "And for your information, I won't be changing my mind anytime soon."

"You will. Trust me." Ooshiba counters confidently. "I also don't know what 'atrophying' means, but I have this feeling you just insulted me. However, I'm gonna let it go if you agree to my request." They stare at each other for a few moments before erupting into amused chortling.

"You're not gonna leave me alone about this, aren't you?"

"Nope." He then takes his hands off Kimishita's arms and slips them into his pockets, a good-natured smile on his face as he regards his shorter companion quite fondly. "Never."

It takes a long moment of silence before Kimishita finally nods, quietly and agreeably (for the first time ever too if he may add). "Fine." He murmurs. "I'll live with you."

The smile on Ooshiba's face widens instantly. "Whoa. I seem to be winning a lot today. That's twice already, Kimishita." Huuuuge achievement! Oye! He wants to hug him and celebrate. My Powers of Persuasion are strong! Hoo-hah!

His vice-captain whacks him on the forehead with the palm of his hand in retaliation before turning around and climbing up the stairs with a scoff. "Whatever, jerk."

The feeling of elation at accomplishing what feels like an insurmountable task overrides Ooshiba's need to snap and sass. His mood lightens as his eyes follow Kimishita's ascent. There is something resembling excitement moving deep within his guts. Now he has someone to talk to before bed. Maybe watch movies with or bicker with to counter the dead silence of his condo unit. His mind wanders, imagining scenarios of pure domesticity and possibly way better food than he is capable of making, now that Kimishita will be his roommate.

"Kiichi."

Hearing the other's quiet voice snaps him out of his reverie and he tilts his head questioningly, making a small noise of acknowledgement. "What?" He notices the awkward fidgeting and his mind floods with a thousand quips, but lets it go. They're having a moment after all.

"Thanks." Kimishita turns to him with a small smile before opening the door and slipping smoothly inside.

To say that Ooshiba's pleased is an understatement; Kimishita rarely thanks him, but when he does, it's always during the darnedest circumstances. With a warm feeling spreading in his gut, he turns and walks away, a slight skip in his step.

You're welcome.


TBC