Chapter 11: Rallying Cry
Akira had hoped that having such an open conversation would leave her feeling lighter on the way back to Yongen, but instead she finds herself unable to keep still on the subway. Her feet tap incessantly against the floor of the train, and her hands twitch and twist unbidden.
Thoughts of Mom swirl in her head like bees swarming around a hive. She closes her eyes and wills herself to calm down, taking deep breaths in through nose and out through her mouth. The stop at Yongen-Jaya comes too quickly, and she all but bolts away from the station.
She barely manages to slow down as she opens the door to Leblanc, and even so, the bell chimes at a much higher pitch than usual.
Sojiro raises a single eyebrow at her, casually lowering a cigarette from his lips. "You in a hurry? Took your sweet time getting back."
Akira scowls, and releases the folds of her skirt clutched tight in her hands. She could practically feel the creases forming from where she'd been mangling them. "Sorry, I was walking my friend home again. You know how it is."
That seems to satisfy Sojiro, who lets up the third degree. It boggles the mind how just straightening up his posture and looking back around the cafe makes his presence softer. His eyes cut like knives when she first walked in, but that edge was gone, now. "Head on upstairs if you're not doing anything."
Akira ducks her head and moves to her room to get changed. She decides quickly that she hates her skirt. Too much movement, too much swishing and flowing and, if her hands were going to act up on their own she needed to not give them something to potentially ruin.
A quick change into a button up blouse and trousers and she's ready to head back downstairs. Wordlessly, she passes Sojiro and ties on an apron, retying her hair into a bun rather than the loose ponytail she'd kept it in after the Palace.
Sojiro gives her an approving nod. "If you're going to help out, then let's see what you learned watching me yesterday. Pick a blend, it's time to brew your first cup of coffee."
Akira follows the motions, her hands picking a bean type as she looks to the siphon, calculating the grind and length of time brewing. She keeps moving from one step to the next, her thoughts mercifully quiet as she lets her body do the work for her, until she has a steaming, beautiful cup of coffee in front of her. She takes it between her fingers and has a delicate sip, the flavor tingling on her tongue in shades of fruit and chocolate.
She sets it down with a sigh of satisfaction, and Sojiro nods, saying, "Here, let me try it."
He sits down across from her at the bar and takes her cup. After a contemplative sip, he hums, "Not bad. Guatemalan SHB. These beans are grown at over four thousand feet above sea level, you know."
"Guess I picked a good bean, then." Akira rests her chin in her hands on the counter.
Sojiro huffs and pushes the mug back to her. "You're in too much of a rush though; try to slow down and appreciate the process of brewing. It'll make the coffee taste better."
Akira's mouth twitches, but she smiles and takes the cup once more. "I'll keep that in mind."
The neighborhood kids in Nakai really got into baseball.
That spoiled rotten rich kid Setou got his parents to buy him a whole set, glove and ball and bat and all that.
All the boys were playing out on a makeshift diamond, haphazardly knocking the ball around forward and backward, with all the tenacity and ability of little grade schoolers.
"I wanna play."
"Tsk! Girls can't play baseball, Aki-chan."
"No way! Girls can do anything guys can do."
"Nuh uh! Girls bake sweets and watch Buchimaru! You're just a tomboy!"
"You just don't wanna lose to a girl."
"Are you stupid!?"
Setou was the ruler of the playground, and he was pretty darn stubborn about keeping girls out.
Not that that ever stopped her.
"I betcha a hundred yen I can hit a homerun."
"No way! Your money's mine!"
Stupid. She didn't even have a hundred yen!
Akira twisted the bat in her hands, finding the perfect place for them, perfectly even with the leather wraps. She gave it a few practice swings, her arms feeling out the angle and weight. The catcher stepped back for her, wearing the catcher's mitt awkwardly while Setou handled the ball and matching glove with age-appropriate grace. The other boys stood all around the field, unprepared for if the ball came their way.
Akira followed every twitch with her eyes as Setou threw his first pitch. It sailed past her, the bat not so much as trembling.
"Hah! I'm gonna strike you out, Aki-chan." Setou grinned cockily as he caught the awkward throw back to him.
"No way! I'm gonna knock it outta the park." Akira took the bat in one hand and pointed it out over Setou's head, just like she saw in the movies.
Setou bristled, scuffing the toe of his shoe into the so-called pitcher's mound as he prepared his second pitch.
Akira saw every angle and speed as Setou wound up and threw.
Her hands twisted as her arms wound up.
She closed her eyes.
CRACK!
"No way…" she heard the catcher gasp in awe.
Her eyes opened and she smiled.
The ball was long gone.
Akira wakes up groggy in the way you only feel after a truly restful sleep. She'll take dreams of childhood memories over dreams of Igor any day.
Sluggishly, she goes about getting in uniform once again. Looking at yesterday's skirt leaves her chewing on a nail. She really had wrinkled the thing to hell from all the anxious energy bouncing around.
She never liked skirts anyways.
Shujin isn't much different on the second—or third—day of school. Students around her are mostly complaining about the volleyball rally, and she still catches snippets of rumors about 'that transfer girl' again. Nothing noteworthy, but it sets a scowl on her face regardless.
And the first thing that happens in homeroom is Kawakami telling everyone to go to the gym after changing into their gym clothes.
At least it'll get her out of her skirt.
The rally is exactly what Akira expected it to be: an ego-stroking blowout where Kamoshida plus teachers crushed team after team of students. It's not even explicitly against the volleyball team members, every student is fair game, with teams picked at random from among the student body.
Akira sits with Ann on the fold-out chairs set up near the bleachers. A bunch of loud, cheering kids stand in a line next to them, fanning themselves over Kamoshida's displays of athleticism.
"How does no one notice the slime practically dripping off of him?" Akira muses quietly. She turns to Ann, who's said nothing for at least ten minutes.
Ann is staring at the wall to their left. "He's not even pretending to care. Same old Ryuji…"
Akira follows her gaze to where Sakamoto-kun is slumped against the wall, shooting daggers at Kamoshida like his eyes could kill the man on the spot. Well, at least that's one other person who sees what she sees.
She turns back to the game just in time to see Kamoshida jump up for a serious spike. The smack of flesh against leather echoes through the gymnasium, just as the ball smashes square into someone's face.
"Mishima!" Ann jumps out of her seat and rushes over to him before anyone else can react. Akira follows after her, catching up in time for her to hold his head up off the gym floor.
"Get him to the infirmary, alright?" Akira and Ann exchange nods before lifting him up and standing him up over Ann's shoulders.
Akira sends them off before turning a glare towards Kamoshida. "You're an Olympic volleyball player. Was that supposed to be an accident?"
Nobody answers as Kamoshida shakes his head. "Nice hustle on getting help for him, girls. Let's get the game back on, shall we?" At his word, the quiet disperses, some students and teachers wondering after Mishima, without bothering to offer to take Ann's place. Most of the crowd turns their focus back to the game, however.
"Kurusu-san," Kamoshida flashes her a grin she recognizes as predatory, "you can take Mishima's place."
Akira clicks her tongue, but steps into the spot Mishima had previously occupied. She squares one foot behind her and unlocks her knees, ready to jump into place as needed. This whole rally might be a sham, but her pride demands she put in due effort.
Not that effort can prepare her for the killshot Kamoshida immediately fires at her. Too slow to dodge, she brings her arms up just in time to catch the ball as it slams into her gut, knocking the air out of her lungs so hard that spit flies out onto the court. It takes everything in her to stay on her feet, curled down around her stomach as she clutches the ball.
"Nice reflexes, Kurusu!" Kamoshida grins, as if her face isn't beet-red. The crowd titters wordlessly, probably sneering at her for all sorts of reasons. "Toss the ball back, a catch means it's my serve."
Akira straightens herself out and grins. "No, please," she tosses the ball up, "allow ME!" She kicks her foot up over her head and smashes it down onto the ball, sending it sailing over the net, narrowly missing Kamoshida's head by centimeters. It bounces off the corner of the court and continues towards the back.
Akira tosses her ponytail over her shoulder. "Would you look at that? Guess it's my point."
Kamoshida looks back at the ball and then to her, with a cheeky half-grin. "Kicking the ball is an illegal maneuver, you know."
Akira blinks and purses her lips. "Guess that means I'm disqualified then." She shrugs her shoulders with a sigh. "Oh well!" She smirks and waves her fingers. "Byeeee!"
She's already turned and walked off the court when he calls after her, "The game isn't over yet!"
Akira throws a look over her shoulder. "No, I think I'm done here. Don't wanna spoil everyone's fun. See ya!"
She doesn't look back, but she can feel everyone's stares as she goes.
A/N: I hope you all like this chapter, because I certainly do. The dream segment might be one of my favorite things I've written in a while.
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