Disclaimer: I don't own Aokana
Prologue
The sky is lighter than usual today. Fluffy clouds paint the atmosphere above, perfectly shaped, sized and scattered. The sunshine is bright, but not enough to blind my eyes. And the pure blue outline that surrounds all of these things looks like a painting, as if an artist had brushed it using the strokes of a brush.
Above me is the sky, and below me is the water. I stare down at it, taking in its calm appearance and gazing at my rippling reflection from above. It's awfully blue. I know in my mind that if I truly decide to dive inside, I would be faced with an immeasurably deep pool. But from the surface it looks harmless. Shallow. I wonder whether that's because it truly does look that way or because of my own mind is playing tricks on me.
Just above the water are people. They come in all different shapes and sizes and colors. Blue, red, green, white. Big and small.
But right now I can only truly focus on what's directly in front of me. An opponent standing far away- and yet I'm perfectly aware that if I wanted to, I could fly over to them in mere seconds. They're adorned with orange colors and their shoes are already lit up with an ethereal glow.
I bend my knees into a crouching position. Tilt my head upwards for what lies ahead. My eyes narrow down, focusing onto my opponent's eyes. Behind every physical game is a deeply mental game, and I've come to know that better than just about anyone.
Mirthful brown eyes stare back at me. They're relaxed. In fact, they probably think I'm taking this game too seriously. I probably look that way to most of the audience members too. But that doesn't matter. The only eyes I care about in that wide audience are the eyes of a few select people anyway.
I stare back, unflinching. I'm jealous- no that's not the best way to describe it. A better way to put it would be that I'm subtly in admiration. I hope that one day I can look upon my own opponents with a relaxed expression. But right now, every game, every liftoff is a trial I need to overcome.
A trial I'm going to overcome.
My hesitation isn't nearly as strong anymore, and I'm honestly glad. But I'm still afraid- afraid enough that sometimes I still feel ashamed of my fear during some of my evenings. Still, I know what lies ahead of the trial I have to face right now and will have to face again and again in the future- and I now know that it's worth everything.
The countdown begins. "THREE!" the announcer exclaims.
A familiar mist begins to cloud my vision. A sweeping coldness pulsates throughout my veins, freezing me in place. A word rolls into the tip of my tongue.
"TWO!"
My mind traps me inside a cage. My rationality is swept aside by a tidal wave of red hot flames, threatening to destroy everything I've worked for. The colors in the sky, the water, the crowd- they all disappear into a faded monochrome. But I've known this feeling for long enough to know how to fight it.
I lock eyes with a figure in the crowd. I look at the sky and the sun and the cloud and the sea. And I remember their colors. Remember the vibrant shades of everything and anything that make them so beautiful. Remember the wind sweeping through my hair, and the horizon of the great blue sky growing ever closer.
My eyes harshly shut themselves closed before they open again. I'm ready.
"ONE!"
The flames, the void that threatens to devour me is still there. But so is everything else. The blue of the sea and sky, the coolness of the wind, and the smiles of the people I've come to love. And suddenly, the flames start to envelop everything once again, but nothing burns down.
Because sometimes, a counterproductive approach is needed. I can't fight my feelings anymore- not when I've promised to stop running away. A year ago, the flames would have enveloped everything and a pain in my chest and head would have struck me down. But they can't hurt me anymore.
With a familiar sweep, the colors come back. My limbs free themselves. The coldness in my mind and body disappears.
And while the flames are still undeniably there, they're no longer wild and destructive. In fact, they envelop the landscape of my mind with a soft embrace, merging together with the colors and smiles. And once again, I somehow manage to utter the single word I've both wanted and dreaded for so long.
"Fly."
The whistle blows.
"GO!"
I shoot off like a bullet towards the sky, and suddenly even the memories of the flames no longer bother me. My mind is completely blank, and all that remains is the sky, the wind, and me. I smile with glee, the previous stoic expression long gone as I speed towards the buoy, hand outstretched.
When I touch it, I perform a maneuver, a touch of fear pushing itself into my mind. I embrace it and carry it with me as I shoot forwards, the emotion being turned into my personal fuel. I'm still afraid, but now I'm in the air, and nothing can stop me. I love flying, and if fear is part of flying then I love it too.
The sky, the smiles and the flames of fear- I carry them all with me, and they can only make me stronger.
Suddenly, as I move towards the next buoy, my opponent is in front of me. My eyes lock with theirs, and a spark of electricity seems to jolt my mind. I narrow my eyes as my opponent speeds towards me before grinning widely. If they want a dogfight, I'll give it to them.
I wait for the perfect moment. Threads of opportunity flash before my eyes, playing out possible scenarios and strategies I could adopt going forward into the match. Eventually, one that shines brighter than the others leaps out to me and I swerve sideways, just as my opponent reaches out to me.
Almost instinctively, I turn. Just as I had turned a thousand times during training. Spinning to face my opponent once more, I chain my feint into a charge as I shoot forward with a burst of speed, exploiting my window of opportunity. A teal colored triangle of light flashes as I touch my opponent's back, flinging them backwards.
I don't give them any chance to recover. With a single fluid motion, I sweep downwards before kicking off the water, leaving behind a torrent of air as I touch my opponent's back once again. As my hand reaches out, I can see their face from the corner of my eye. They no longer look as mirthful as before, but they're still smiling. They're enjoying the match just as much as I am.
It inspires me.
Suddenly, my opponent disappears from my sight. My eyes widen as a tickling, threatening feeling crawls down my backside. Automatically, my body revolves and I manage to position myself sideways, swerving around just as my opponent spins to the left, the two of us now facing each other in opposite sides. My mouth twitches into a grin. I'm excited.
I kick up first, creating a mini-tornado of water below me. From the corner of my eye I see an orange halo of light, and I know my opponent has done the same. I soar into the air a little bit higher than the buoy to get the speed and height advantage before charging forwards.
Unfortunately, my opponent touches the buoy first. My eyes widen briefly before I begin to chase them again, keeping an eye on the timer. It's been three minutes, so anything could still happen. Swerving to the left, I take a shortcut before barreling into my opponent. Except unlike normal barrels, I touch their leg instead of their entire torso.
Suddenly, they're spinning in mid air, rendered temporarily immobile by the rapid velocity. In the brief moment their back faces me, I swerve into a backwards touch, kicking their back and sending them barreling to the previous buoy. However, as I continue to speed onwards, when I look back I can see my opponent catching up to me. Their shoes are definitely more speeder oriented.
I swing diagonally, making a round loop to intercept them as they crash into my torso, sending me backwards. My mind flashes between two scenarios. One where I use my current momentum to reach the buoy, and another where I engage my opponent in a dogfight.
The answer is clear to me immediately, and it relieves me. It reassures me that I've truly, finally grown out of my self-imposed prison. That I can honestly say that I find flying circus fun.
Grinning, I execute a familiar maneuver. The airkick turn comes to me almost instinctually as I speed directly towards my opponent. They widen their eyes, seemingly having not expected this development, before grinning. Our eyes lock onto one another, and somehow, both of us understand. It's one thing I forgot I loved so much about this sport. In the air, words aren't needed. The only thing we truly need to communicate ourselves, the only language that we have and need, is our actions and decisions. What kind of personality we have, what we desire and aim for, we can paint it all through the language of flight. It's something that makes FC something truly special compared to other air sports.
We crash into each other once more. Our teal and orange contrails convulse into one another as I'm sent flying directly backwards. And through all of this I focus my gaze at the threads of possibility once more, looking for the one that shines above the rest.
I find it and grasp onto it, letting it pull me forwards.
As my opponent charges forward again, I stay still and hover. Reminding myself to thank Shindou later, I flip forwards before touching my opponent's back and immediately changing his velocity from forwards to downwards. Grinning at my success, I charge in the same direction, propelled by the acceleration of gravity as I reach out once more.
Suddenly, my opponent is gone.
My eyes widen as I find myself flung downwards, a triangle of teal colored light dispersing behind me. Still, I can't help but grin. This is only more of a sign that I've truly gotten rusty, but the fact that I can acknowledge that without a familiar mist clouding my vision empowers me even further than any amount of physical skill.
Once more, I shoot to the sky, the teal contrails of my boots an ever familiar friend. The direction and movement even feels familiar as I find myself gazing into the pale blue sky. For just a moment, I can almost see someone else flying ahead of me, yellow wings sprouting from her boots and purple hair fluttering with the fierce winds. Just a year ago, I would have reached out to it desperately, trying to cling onto the last semblances of what had been there before. Now, I'm not sure how I feel about it anymore- or maybe I simply can't put it to words- but a small smile reaches my face, and I feel a warm flame envelop my heart.
The wave of nostalgia passes as fast as it comes, and I'm left alone once more. Still, I smile with resolution as I look at my opponent below me, speeding towards the next buoy. I spare one last look at the sky and the horizon before I kick downwards, gliding towards the path to my victory.
I haven't conquered the sky yet, that much I'm sure of. But I've conquered something much more important. I cherish that thing deep inside my heart as I fly onwards.
My name is Masaya Hinata, and this is my story.
Notes
I probably shouldn't be starting more fics but fuuuuuck I finished Aokana and I couldn't get it out of my head. Updates for this are gonna be the same with all my other fics- irregular. I post when I get inspired, and that's really about it.
If you've somehow found this fic in the tiny fandom section that is Aokana (T_T) and read this chapter, thank you a ton. I would appreciate it even more if you dropped a review!