14. 運命

Fate

The final bell had scarcely stopped echoing through the halls, yet they were already teeming with students eager to depart the campus of Shinra Private Academy. Anna cared little. She knew her freedom wouldn't be starting for another couple of hours at least. Yet there was an undeniable lightness to her movements as she made her way to the principal's office at the heart of the classroom complex, cutting against the flood of humanity that was making its way out. As she got deeper down the hall, the torrent ebbed. Anna was able to pick out Akira's bespectacled face as he unhurriedly loped down the hallway towards her.

"My, my, Anna, you look remarkably high-spirited for someone with detention standing between her and the weekend," he said by way of greeting.

At that moment Anna realized she had, in fact, been poorly suppressing a smile. She did her best to look stoic as she shrugged. "Strings attached or no, the weekend is the weekend."

Akira was astute enough not to be swayed so easily. He knew Anna was hiding something. "Is that so?" he probed gently. "Or is there something else you're looking forward to as you serve out your sentence?"

Anna smirked by way of reply. "Watch this one, he's sharp," she deadpanned. "And it's frankly annoying as hell. You should mind your own business," she chided, but without venom.

Akira squirmed one of his shoulders free from his backpack strap and unzipped it. "I do confess to being a bit nosy. But it jumped out at me. You never smile unprovoked if you can help it." Akira froze with his trademark notebook halfway deposited into his backpack. "Er," he said, blushing, "I didn't mean to suggest that I think that's a problem -"

"Relax," Anna said over Akira's rambling. "I guess I'm just resigned to my fate, Akira. I can be very Zen about things outside of my control."

And with an uncharacteristic wink and chuckle, she was gone, leaving Akira staring after her and remarking upon how weird she had just acted.

There was nothing weird, however, about the way the principal once again assigned her to detention duty in chemistry lab B as usual. Anna had a definite bounce to her stride as she bounded up the stairs to that familiar classroom around the corner.

"Ah, Kyoyama," Nakajima-sensei said as she appeared in the chemistry lab before her. "You and Kuroda have been working so well together these past few days. It's really remarkable. Who would have thought that your punch would lead to such a beautiful partnership?"

Anna wasn't sure what to say to that. She was undoubtedly right, though. Somehow, the two of them had tamed the beastly mess of the lab into something resembling order. Anna took a moment to admire their handiwork. She had never stopped to think about how well they had synergized, but now that she reflected upon it, she realized they had been quite a team. There wasn't much left out of place.

As if reading her thoughts, Nakajima-sensei went on, "Look at the job the two of you have done! I thought this was going to take weeks to straighten out. You know, I've already lobbied for the principal to cut your detention short. He said he'd consider it."

Anna didn't quite know what to say to this. On the one hand, detention was a drag, plain and simple. But on the other hand, Akira hadn't been wrong. There was, as he had suspected, something - or rather someone - there that she had been looking forward to seeing again.

Nakajima-sensei misread the look on Anna's face. She waved her hand towards Anna dismissively. "No, no, don't thank me, Kyoyama. I've always said that hard work deserves to be recognized. And just between you and me," she continued, more softly now, "I don't think you were treated fairly at all. You were only given one day off to process everything that had happened to you. And then to have someone hit on you …" Her already low voice trailed off. "I'm sorry to ramble, Kyoyama. You're free to go. And like I already told Kuroda, enjoy your weekend."

At the mention of Makoto's name, Anna gave a start. "Sensei," she asked, "speaking of Kuroda, where is he?"

"No clue. Wait, why? Do you … Oh, I see what's going on here," Nakajima-sensei said as the corners of her mouth crept to a sly smile. "He mentioned that the detention was getting him in trouble with his coach. Seems he's not too keen on having one of his starting wide receivers miss practice for passing love notes in class. But hey, you didn't hear it from me." She winked.

Anna was grateful enough for the tip to refrain from uttering her annoyance at Nakajima-sensei. But inwardly she wondered, Am I really this transparent? If I am, why the hell did Yoh have so much trouble seeing that I loved him?

Thoughts of Yoh weighed heavily on her mind as Anna descended the stairs and made her way through the now-empty halls. I wonder what he's up to right now. That guy hated school so much, I can't help but seriously think that this was all just a ploy to have an excuse to drop out.

But should I be doing this in the first place? she wondered. Makoto and I have become unlikely friends. Detention brought us together, and now our detention has been canceled. Is that a sign - or even fate? Maybe the Great Spirit is trying to tell me I'm headed down the wrong path.

She continued to walk as her mind filled with thoughts. On the other hand, having friends does seem appealing, especially since Yoh left. I can kind of see how nice it is just having company. Akira has shown me that. What harm can one more friend do?

Upon seeing how near she now was to the football field, she made up her mind. The chaotic sounds of a scrimmage in progress floated on the wind and drifted to her ears, coaxing her closer. The muffled sounds of whistles and pads hitting pads grew louder as she drew nearer. Soon she was close enough to pick out individual players, but as she was completely unfamiliar with the sport, she still had no idea what was going on - or which helmet was shielding Makoto's head.

It looks like I'm allowed to sit on these bleachers. Anna felt a little thrill as she crossed the threshold to the football field and made her way to the shaded bleachers. As she ascended the aluminum tiers, she passed a smattering of onlookers. Finally, she took a seat on the top row.

She squinted at the field below and started searching in vain for Makoto. Nakajima-sensei said he's a wide receiver. It would help if I knew what that was. A play was unfolding below. The football appeared in the hands of one player in a white jersey, who backpedaled a few steps as two lines of players - some in white jerseys, others in green - shoved each other. Suddenly one of the shoving players got through and started chasing the player with the ball, who scrambled to his right and threw the ball downfield. Anna tracked the ball and saw that it was heading in the general direction of another player, also wearing white. He extended his fingertips and snagged it just before a player in green wrapped his arms around his waist and roughly dragged him to the turf. This prompted a whistle to blow. For his part, the player making the catch seemed unperturbed by having been wrestled to the ground. He was already on his feet accepting congratulations from several other white-clad players.

What a strange, strange game, Anna thought as the players lined up again, this time near the spot where the ball had been caught. I guess the white uniforms are one team and the green ones are the other?

Anna studied the formation and did her best to work out what was about to happen. The quarterback - that's the one who throws the ball, I think - stands a few steps behind the line of players who push against each other. He's got a guy standing next to him, too. I wonder what he does. And there are players at the far ends of the line, too. What do they do? Those guys all look tall and skinny. Maybe they're wide receivers? Are they called that because they "receive" a pass from the quarterback?

As if he could read her thoughts, the quarterback let the ball fly at that instant. Without breaking stride, one of the players in white put his hands up over his shoulder and snatched the ball from the air. The player in green, outfoxed, splayed himself out and tried to snag his foe's ankles, but missed. With the ball securely tucked in the crook of his arm, the receiver continued to run downfield until he was nearly to the goalpost at the edge of the playing surface, which prompted his teammates to erupt into raucous celebration. A whistle rang out from somewhere, but it did nothing to dampen the merriment of the players in white.

Is that Makoto? Anna wondered, staring at the player who had just scored as he and his teammates trotted toward the coach on the sidelines. I mean, I guess he's tall and skinny, but you could say that about all the other wide receivers. She squinted at the boy's figure as he unstrapped and removed his helmet to accept some coaching. It's no use. I'm too far away to tell.

The coach was gesturing animatedly at might-be-Makoto now, who hastened to get his helmet back on and sprinted out toward the players who were assembling on the field. As they had before, the two teams were lined up opposite each other. This time, though, they were near the goalpost, and it didn't look like there were any receivers in the formation. The player in the quarterback spot looked up and saw maybe-Makoto running up to him. He hesitated, then ran toward him, giving him an encouraging tap on the helmet as they passed on his way off the field. Now perhaps-Makoto looked like he was trying to catch the attention of the other players in the formation. He must have told them something, because they reacted as if he had just delivered exciting news.

As the rest of the players settled down, the boy took a spot several yards behind his teammates on the line and eased into a ready athletic stance. Wait, is he a receiver and a quarterback? Anna wondered as she watched. She grew even more confused as she watched the ball appear in the hands of a player who was kneeling halfway between might-be-Makoto and his teammates on the line. He was in motion now, running toward his kneeling teammate. Before she could quite make sense of this, the boy was following through with his extended leg, and the ball took flight. It barely cleared the heads of the players on the line, but soldiered on, and wobbled its way through the goalposts. Oh, was that a kick? Is that why they call it football?

Whether or not he was Makoto, one thing was for sure: the boy was ecstatic. He extended his arms over his head as he ran up toward his teammates. Oddly enough, everyone on the field - even the players in green - looked just as happy as he did. The boy was swept off his feet, supported by several players from either team, and the impromptu mosh pit moved en masse toward the coach and off the field to the locker room.

Anna stared across the field to the locker room door as the last of the players made their way inside. She was still processing what she had just seen. For once, I wish Manta were here, she mused. I'm sure he'd be able to explain this crazy game to me. Or at least his book could clear a few things up.

Thinking of Manta naturally called to mind his best friend. Yoh…

I do wonder how Manta's doing without his best friend. I'm surprised he hasn't come over to the Inn looking for him yet. Usually he bangs on the front door all out of breath from running as fast as his stubby little legs can take him. I don't know why he always rushes over. I always tell him that he has to wait for Yoh to finish his training. Maybe he likes hanging out there better than doing his homework alone at home. Maybe he just likes being close to people he considers friends. Or maybe even the mere thought of getting to see Yoh brings him great joy.

I can relate, Anna admitted to herself. It's true what they say. You don't know what you've got 'til it's gone ...

The sight of movement at the locker room door broke Anna's train of thought. She watched as a boy weighed down with a large athletic duffel bag shuffled his way through the gap in the fence and onto the field. Anna felt a mote of fear crawl up her spine as she realized two things: this boy looked an awful lot like Makoto; and he was getting close enough to Anna for them to perhaps recognize each other.

Anna told herself to take deep breaths as the boy suddenly stopped on the 10-yard line. He shrugged the duffel bag off his shoulder and kneeled on the turf to unzip it. His hands reached into the bag and started deftly withdrawing footballs from it. He scattered at least half a dozen of them on the grass around him. Then he pulled out a device that looked a bit like a tripod with one elongated arm.

Anna found herself avoiding eye contact with the boy as he continued his ritual on the field. She was annoyed with herself. Even if that's Makoto, he's just a friend. Why are you getting so nervous?

The boy had set up the tripod-like apparatus neatly in the middle of the 10-yard line, where its long arm was propping up a football by its nose. The boy was standing a few steps behind it and to the left, wiggling his arms and jogging in place in an attempt to get loose. Then he put his head down and started approaching the ball. Three quick steps later, his foot contacted the ball, and his right leg followed through in a tight arc.

The long arm of the tripod, no longer supported by the nose of the football, gracefully descended to the turf. It, unfortunately, had spent nearly as much time airborne as the football had. The boy watched, forehead slumped into one of his palms, as the ball failed to take flight and skidded on the grass with little jittery hops.

Anna's reaction to this performance vacillated somewhere between pity and mirth. She gave a small hiccup as she suppressed a laugh.

But the boy's disappointment was only momentary. Soon, he was setting up another ball and taking his backward steps to get himself in position. This time, the ball did manage to get up in the air, but at far too shallow an angle. It flew forward on its low trajectory, passed under the crossbar of the goalpost, and smacked into the chain-link fence behind the field.

The boy shook his head and bent down to prop up another ball beneath his tripod. On his next attempt, he kicked the football equivalent of a pop fly. It soared into the air and had enough hangtime for the boy to look up at it and put his hands on his hips. He could have jogged under it and gotten in position to catch it with time to spare. But he remained on the spot and watched as it finally fell back to earth, a few feet in front of the goalposts.

"I don't know anything about football, but it's supposed to go through the goalposts, right?"

Startled, the boy whipped around to face the person who had just spoken. As he did, his foot brushed against one of the balls on the grass, and as he tried to regain his balance, his other foot got snagged under the tripod. He pitched forward and put his hands out to break his fall, but there were footballs scattered all over his landing spot. One of them was waiting to impact him square in his chest as he landed.

Anna sidled up to the boy without urgency. The impact with the ground - and with the ball - had knocked the wind out of him. He had rolled over and now was lying prostrate on the grass, panting for air, arms and legs splayed out ungracefully. His eyes were half-closed and his gaze looked unfocused and distant.

"You all right?" Anna asked, hoping her voice didn't betray her concern. She closed the remaining distance between herself and the boy and leaned over his reclined form.

Recognition registered in the boy's eyes as Anna crossed into his field of vision. He half-grimaced, half-smiled as his eyes opened slightly wider and locked onto Anna. "Sure, I'm fine," he said, his voice a bit raspy and labored. "You just take my breath away, Anna."

She felt her color rising inside her, which triggered her self-annoyance once more. "Oh, shut up, Makoto," she said, but found she couldn't withhold extending a hand to him.

Makoto accepted with a firm, callused grip and, with the help of a surprisingly strong tug from Anna, got back on his feet. "Thanks. Heh," he said, a tad rosy-cheeked, "were you watching me this whole time? Those were some embarrassing kicks."

Anna merely shrugged. "I doubt I could do better. Besides, you made one at the end of the game earlier." As soon as those words had escaped her, she reflexively slapped a hand over her mouth.

"You were watching the scrimmage, too?" Makoto asked, bashfully scratching the back of his neck. His hair was matted from the helmet he had been wearing.

"Yeah," Anna admitted, looking down and gliding the toe of her shoe over a few blades of grass. "I saw you catch that pass, too." Her voice seemed somewhat smaller than usual, as if her throat were impeding it.

"Yup, that was me," Makoto acknowledged, not quite knowing what to say. He had removed his pads and was now wearing a well-used practice jersey that was at least a size too big, but Makoto still towered over Anna. The awkwardness of the situation made him suddenly conscious of their size difference. He started slouching subconsciously. "So, um, I'm guessing you were waiting for me to get done with practice to come talk to me?"

"As if! Don't flatter yourself," Anna snapped, with vitriol that shocked Makoto into standing up straight again. "I just …" Anna trailed off as she realized that he was right. She wasn't about to admit that, though. "You weren't at detention today, and we have unfinished business. That's all."

Makoto grinned at Anna, his eyes closed with smugness. "In other words, you were waiting for me to finish practice so you could come talk to me. Like I said."

Anna's hands balled up tightly. "Ugh! Whatever. Look, I could be halfway home by now, but instead, I'm here. You know why?" She gave Makoto a cold, hard frown as her question sank in.

He realized it hadn't been rhetorical after a few seconds' pause. "Uh, because I'm sexy and you know it?" he ventured slyly.

With great effort, Anna restrained herself from laying her now very clenched hands on Makoto. "No," she hissed. "I'm here because what you said to me in detention resonated with me. I don't want to wear this mask anymore. And I'm guessing you want girls to like you for who you are, not who you're pretending to be."

For once, a serious look was on Makoto's face. "Oh."

"Problem is," Anna went on as if Makoto hadn't interjected, "I've been thinking a lot about it. And I'm conflicted." She started pacing to either side of Makoto, who remained silent yet attentive. "I want to stay loyal to Yoh. I want him back, and I want to treat him better if he'll let me.

"But," she said, stopping in her tracks directly before Makoto, "I'm not that naive. You're not hoping for just a platonic friendship. And I'm strong-willed, but even I'm not sure that I can resist temptation forever." She directed her gaze straight into Makoto's eyes. "But if I don't do anything, history will repeat itself. I'll be the same cold and distant Anna. And Yoh will leave again. For good.

"Will Yoh understand that I need your insight and company? I don't know. Can I manage to change on my own? I don't know."

Makoto looked down at Anna, who was now on her hands and knees. At first, he thought the gravity of the moment had overwhelmed her, but then he realized she was retrieving his tripod and one of the footballs.

"So," she said, propping up a ball under the tripod's arm, "I'll let fate decide."

Anna stood back up and looked into Makoto's eyes once more. "Do you want to hang out with me?"

Makoto was surprised to find his throat was suddenly dry. He swallowed and tried to look as resolute as Anna did. "Of course," he said.

Anna gestured with her foot toward the ball she had just teed up. "Earn it."

Makoto's reaction caught Anna completely off guard. He laughed sharply. "I perform best under pressure, Anna. You have no idea what you just got yourself into."

Anna was about to say something dismissive, but something in Makoto's demeanor made the words stick in her throat. With a confident gleam in his eye, Makoto lined up to take his kick. Anna watched as his left foot took a small jab step forward. Then he took a much larger step with his right. His left foot took another big step and came to rest just beside the ball as his right leg swung forward …

A resounding thunk rang out as the ball took flight. It soared through the air, end over end, and didn't stop until it had cleared the chain-link fence behind the field.

Wow, Anna thought as she continued to stare at the point high above the crossbar where the ball had split the uprights. He absolutely crushed it.

Makoto turned around. Looking utterly unfazed, he favored Anna with a wink. "Fate," he said to her stunned face, "seems to want us to spend more time together."

Anna snapped out of her shock and smirked. "Who am I to argue with fate?"

To be continued in chapter 15