Thanks for being so patient with me. Actually, I'm not quite sure
if you *were* patient or not, seeing as I don't even know who you
are.
Nevertheless, here be Chapter Quintus, and it's twice as long as the average chapter (as in 4 Microsoft Word pages instead of 2. Of course, I have non-existent margins...) to make up for certain, fobbing stupid wilderness retreats. I crashed into a friggin' tree. On snowshoes. Do you know how *slow* snowshoes are?!
On the bright side, I got my Something Corporate 'Leaving by the Window' CD at last. Interestingly enough, it was released two or so years ago. -.-
CHAPTER FIVE - - - - - - - - - -
The fine light drizzle had dissolved into mist, and it was through this film that Mr. Yagami all but dragged Kai with his right arm in his excitement. The garnet-eyed teenager had had barely enough time to substitute his usual attire for his baggy shorts and t- shirt before being bodily yanked out of the change-room and pulled outside of the school.
The muggy air dampened the brunette's voice and the sound didn't travel very far at all, but it was enough for Kai to be subjected to a fanatic recital of every soccer player expected to show at the tryouts.
At every mention of a new name, the junior's heart leaped a few notches higher. More people meant a lower chance of making the team, which meant a lower chance of being forced to attend games, practices and generally be tortured by people he really didn't want to associate with in the first place.
"...Bryan Kuznetsov's got a terrific kick, we're thinking of putting him in defence with Sergei, they're the big passers on the team, but they're leaving next year and we need subs, maybe Robert or Steve, but Steve's the goalie so he can't really do that now can he, and there's Johnny McGreggor, he's pretty good, but not a real passing kind of guy and we need him for left wing, Lai and Rei are the two regular midfielders and they work great as a team but their shooting needs work ..."
Kai made sure not to nod occasionally this time, wary of accidentally agreeing to something equally pointless and worthless as soccer tryouts.
Needless to say, the conversation was rather one-sided, and terminated abruptly upon the two figures' arrival upon the soccer field. Kai gave said soggy stretch of ground a once-over before attempting a sudden sidle to the left and back so as to leave as inconspicuously as possible.
Mr. Yagami, however, would have none of that. "C'mon Kai, the tryouts are this way!"
Digging his heels subtly into the ground proved futile Kai quickly discovered, his efforts to leave subdued by the pure energy his homeroom teacher exuded when near the black-and-white spheres various soccer team hopefuls were bouncing about on their knees. Subjecting himself to his fate and promising to steal some of Mr. Yagami's hair to create a voodoo doll later, Kai allowed himself to be hauled across the sodden earth towards the benches at the right of the field.
There, a few teenagers a couple years or so older than the slate- haired boy himself were gathered, taking notes and attendance on several clipboards that rested on the makeshift table that rested lopsidedly on the waterlogged grass.
The head coach, still clutching Kai's arm, called out to one of the taller forms.
"Hey! Tala! Got a new one for ya!"
- - - - - - - - - -
"Pathetic, really," mused Bryan, watching a few sophomores goofing off by the goal posts. One of them, a kid he identified as Takao Kinomiya, ran smack into one of the metal poles, only to be helped to his feet by a laughing blonde.
Tala glanced up from where he had just recorded 'Rei Kon' on his sign-up sheet under the caption 'Returning Players' . "We do need new members, Falcon," he replied testily, using the nickname he had given the older teen, after his fierce, aggressive playing style. "And if this is who comes out, this is who we have to choose from."
Bryan shrugged off the stern rebuke; he was used to them by now. Re-affixing his gaze on the soccer field, he suddenly whistled. Grumbling under his breath, the redhead beside him regarded Bryan again. "What is it now?" he demanded, the stress of putting together a competent team leaking into his voice.
"Oh, nothing. Just another guy coming to try out. Actually, he doesn't look too happy about it. Coach Yagami's practically dragging him."
Tala snorted, and his eyes moved back to the slightly damp paper on his weathered clipboard. "Is that all?"
"Hey, that's that new guy! The one who beat up Ushio!"
This snapped Tala's head back up. "Ushio? The bastard who's been bullying new students since eighth grade?"
Ivan shrugged at Mao the cheerleader's comment. "Do we know any other bastards? Wait, don't answer that," he added, seeing Sergei's mouth open.
"Hey! Tala! Got a new one for ya!"
Strangely familiar ice-blue irises were met with equally recognizable crimson orbs.
- - - - - - - - - -
If the bluenette realized who he was, Tala decided, he was oddly good at hiding his surprise. Or maybe he wasn't surprised at all. Or maybe he was merely pre-occupied with massaging life back into his left arm, where Coach Yagami had seized it.
Which left the redhead free to peruse the body of the slate-haired boy. A dark scarlet t-shirt and black shorts set off the alabaster skin that hid lithe muscles. Silver and sapphire hair had sprung back into the spikes that they had previously abandoned in the rain.
The slightly younger teenager (Tala guessed him to be about sixteen years of age) stood with his arms crossed, and though this shielded what Tala expected to be a well-toned chest, it left his biceps and triceps free for viewing pleasure. Oh, God, what he wouldn't do to hold that slender body against his own...
All right, enough of that. Mentally shaking away the images his strangely perverted mind was conjuring up, Tala turned to the beaming Coach of Bakuten's soccer team; anything to revert the blood flowing to his nether regions. "Name?" he barked.
The addressed trainer frowned slightly, as if confused as to why the captain would not ask the new boy for his own name, but answered, "Kai Hiwatari. I already signed him up, I think he's on page 3."
"Yeah, he's there," supplied Bryan, holding aloft his own clipboard. There, in Mr. Yagami's messy scrawl were the words 'Kai Hiwatari, rm 101, junior' below the headings 'Name', 'Homeroom', and 'Year'.
"Ah," responded Tala intelligently. Inwardly chiding himself for his inability to control his hormones, he finally turned towards this 'Kai'. The guy seemed to be edging slowly, delicately away, apparently trying for a swift escape. However, as soon as the two- toned boy felt the cobalt eyes on him, he stopped, meeting the questioning gaze with a hard glare of his own.
So. The teenager didn't want to be here, but didn't want to make a scene. However, he was already signed up, and Tala was curious as to what the enigmatic lad could do.
"What position do you play?"
No verbal response greeted the redhead's question, and Tala wondered if the bluenette even knew what soccer was. Well, he was no teacher. Let him make a fool out of himself; served him right for not answering his captain.
"Go to the left half with the rest of the newbies."
Fiery crimson eyes narrowed at being addressed as a 'newbie', before their owner stormed off to the side of the field that Tala was pointing at. The captain chuckled inwardly. Didn't like taking orders, eh?
Oh, this would be fun.
- - - - - - - - - -
"Listen up!" snapped a stocky senior, his sharp voice cutting through the chatter the younger, fresher contenders for the oh-so- coveted spots on the soccer team. The soft, lilac hue of his hair was decidedly at odds with his bossy, hardened demeanor.
"I'm Bryan Kuznetsov, but don't even think about talking to me, you'll be too busy with the tryouts as it is. We've only got eight spots left on the team," here, the lavender tinged head jerked towards the right half of the team, where the seven returning players from the previous season were listening to an equally 'cheerful' greeting from Tala, the captain, "so don't get cocky."
The thirty-some 'recruits' glanced nervously at each other, save the slate-haired boy who stood beyond the far reach of the crowd, leaning against the goal post, his arms crossed and head bowed, as if tuning out the rest of the world. Bryan didn't fail to notice this, and called to the teen, whom he recognized from sign-up. "Hey, you! Get over here with the rest of us!"
The kid's head slowly lifted, and Bryan found himself on the receiving end of a withering glare that would have been all the more effective if Bryan wasn't older and hadn't been best friends with Tala, who doled out such glowers every half-hour or so. Wordlessly, the slate-haired one pushed himself off the cool metal and strode forward, stopping at the fringe of the pack.
Those in the crowd that knew of the skirmish in the hallway just twenty or so minutes ago prodded each other excitedly, eager to share their knowledge of the teen who had beaten up Ushio with one blow with those who had yet to hear about the guy with the guts to challenge one of the most feared harassers in the history of Bakuten. Bryan noted this too, and his expression darkened.
If this Kai kid chose to interrupt or defy one of his orders, he had a large number of supporters more than willing to back him up. And with his face-paint (that was obviously waterproof, as it was still intact), he certainly looked the type to rebel.
But, to his astonishment, the garnet-eyed junior's lips twisted into a thin scowl, as if displeased by the attention. Disgust and annoyance flashed across the elegant, almost regal features so swiftly that all but Bryan missed the disgruntled emotions.
Interesting.
Filing that thought away for later examination, the pale-eyed twelfth-grader began to direct a simple passing drill. Four pylons were set up as the four vertices of a square, with four more at the center of the edges of said polygon. Four lines of eight boys were placed at each of the latter orange cones.
Four soccer balls were distributed, and the goal, as Bryan explained, was to pass the ball through the square to the line directly across from the one in which you were standing in. Once you passed, you had to run across in the same direction that your pass had gone, and join up at the end of the opposite queue. The trick was to avoid the players that were trying to do the same.
All in all, Bryan decided seven minutes in, that they weren't as utterly hapless as he had first thought. Not to say that he hadn't already cut quite a few names off the roster.
A sudden tap on the back caused the teenager to whirl around in surprise. Standing there, icy blue eyes glinting mischievously, was none other than Tala. "Hello. How's it going?"
Glancing at the right half of the soccer field, Bryan noticed that the veterans were engaging in some sort of suicide drill. That gave him an idea...
"Not too bad, Wolf. They're not as useless after all. We might actually have a chance at winning a game this year."
"Your faith in your captain is enough to bring tears to my eyes. Now, do you want to run or are you willing to stick around for a little longer with these guys?"
"Is that a well-disguised threat should I choose to leave you with these idiots?"
Tala chuckled, flicking blood-red bangs out of his eyes. "It's not well-disguised if you can pick up on it."
"Right. Anyway, I was thinking of sending the newbs off on a couple suicide runs. You know, see where they're at..."
"See where they're at, my ass. You just want to torture them, you sadistic brute."
"Yes. Yes, I do. Gonna watch?"
"Hell yes."
- - - - - - - - - -
Suicides are as tiring, painful and stressing as they sound. Basically, a row of markers is arranged in horizontal lines parallel to one edge of the field. Players are made to run from the starting line to the first marker, bend down to touch it, spring back up and sprint back to the starting line. From there, they are to run to the second marker, bend down to touch that, and then sprint back to the starting line. The same is done for the third marker, the fourth marker, etcetera, etcetera, until the poor athlete collapses.
The 'newbies' were, in short, not happy little campers when they heard of their next drill. Some were already exhausted from their first ordeal, and a loud groan arose from the lips of most everyone assembled. The returning players had been assured of a spot on the team, and had left a few minutes ago, to return on Friday, three days from now, when a few of the auditioners had been cut, with the exception, of course, of Tala, Bryan, Sergei and Ivan.
The latter two were seated in the bleachers, waiting and watching as the former went about all the tasks required of the captain and his deputy captain.
The remaining players were quickly split into a number of heats of five, so as not to crowd the field with too many runners. The first race began with the sharp 'tweet' of the plastic whistle clenched in Coach Yagami's mouth.
On the return from the fourth marker (out of six), Kai observed that some of the sprinters were already tiring. The rest were struggling valiantly to finish, but by the end of the fifth run, all five had fallen in relief upon the ground. A slate brow rose. Well, at least they had tried... though it would have been all the more impressive if they had actually completed the exercise.
Kai, being in the sixth and last heat, watched the other races as impassively as Tala and Bryan themselves. His fellow athletes jogged, loped and scuttled their hearts out, but in the end, hardly any were able to finish the drill. Crimson irises narrowed. The two captains seemed to be dismayed as well, eying the sprinters in a frustrated but not altogether disappointed manner. They had obviously not been expecting anybody to conclude their little training session of doom.
In an instant, and quite irrationally, as Kai had originally had no wish to make the soccer team, the slate-haired boy vowed to show his elders that he was no weakling, and that he could take anything they threw at him.
Finally, the sixth round was called to the starting line. If Kai had looked up, he would have noticed the cerulean eyes watching his every move.
"TWEET!"
The shrill screech sounded and the torment began.
Kai was the first off the start, and soon left the rest of the pack in his dust. Well, actually, in his dirt clods, as the ground was too wet to be kicked up into billowing clouds of soil. He reached the first marker easily, crouching slightly to swipe at the sodden earth with the tips of his fingers, only to pivot deftly and race back, passing his fellow runners on his return to the starting line.
The process was completed five more times, and by the time the junior had finished the race course, a stunned silence had overcome the crowd, broken only by the panting returns of his fellow sixth heat runners, who had stopped after their fourth marker.
Breathing lightly, Kai stretched himself up so as to relieve his the slight cramps in his calves and hamstrings. Glancing at the captains so as to gauge their reaction, he was not completely surprised to see that they were hunched over their clipboards, taking notes. Feh. Screw them. It was 5:34 pm, his Grandfather was probably suffering an aneurysm, he had homework to ignore, and a shower to take.
Silently, the slate-hair shifted down, almost of its own accord, to shield the crimson eyes, and the pale teenager walked off into the darkening night.
- - - - - - - - - -
Later that night, poring over the words he had written on his clipboard, Tala reached out to grab a red pen and slowly unscrewed it, sapphire eyes never leaving the dog-eared pages. Carefully, deliberately, large red 'x's began to adorn various names on the sheet. He would, the captain decided, cut seventeen of the new players. Then, he would have fifteen to choose his final eight from.
Finally, after numerous pauses and even more rethinks, he had whittled down the list of thirty-two to twenty-seven. That was still way too many.
Rubbing sleep from his eyes Tala attacked the paper once more. The next swipes of red ink were swift and decisive, and, at last, there were a mere twenty-one left. One name in particular stood out on the page. Kai Hiwatari.
Unbidden, a mental image of the lean boy's form sprang to mind. An image of those long legs stretching out to gain new ground, of ruby eyes narrowed in concentration, of elegant fingers stretching forward to brush against hard earth. Of the hostile glare, of the silent confidence, almost arrogance.
Of beauty.
But this time, unlike last, Tala didn't push away these thoughts. Instead, he sat back in his desk chair and contemplated them leisurely.
The slate-banged boy had gained new respect in his eyes after the suicide runs. There was something in those fiery irises that drew Tala to him, that surprised, shocked, awed and left him speechless.
There was something deep inside Kai, something burning, untouchable and untamable. Something that drew Tala in like a flame does a moth.
And he was determined to find out.
- - - - - - - - - -
The front door of the stately old Victorian house slammed shut, and Kai Hiwatari entered the home of his grandfather, prepared for the worst. He wasn't used to having somebody around to worry about him, and though he wasn't sure if Voltaire was like that, sixteen years of hardship and tribulation had taught him to never assume*.
Circling 'round the ground floor, Kai realized that nobody was home. Entering the dining room for the second time, the teenager noticed the sheaf of paper on the wooden table.
'Kai,' it read in a graceful, curving script,
'I have business to attend to with a colleague of mine, Boris Balkov. There is food in the refrigerator, you are permitted to eat what is there. I will arrive home at midnight, and I expect to see you in bed.
Your Grandfather.'
Well, that solved that problem. Not feeling particularly hungry, Kai left the note where he'd found it and headed upstairs to the small, white-walled room he had claimed as his a week or so ago. Stripping down so as to take a shower, Kai wondered then quickly dismissed the idea of telling his grandfather about soccer.
'Say no more than necessary' had always been his motto.
Actually, 'Never trust anybody' was his motto.
- - - - - - - - - -
To be Continued
Out of curiosity, does anybody want me to make this more of a Drama, Action/Adventure type thing involving Voltaire's 'business' and Boris? I wasn't planning to, but the words in the note just kind of popped out at me, and my brain kind of went, 'Ya know? You suck at writing romance. Why not stick to what you know: psychotic, half-formed plots involving Voltaire and his cronies?'
And I kind of went, 'I resent that. And how exactly am I capable of speaking to my own brain?'
And then my brain went, 'I dunno. It's your alternate reality.'
And then my readers just kinda went, 'Shut up already.'
And then I went, 'HAHA!!! NO MORE WILDERNESS ADVENTURES!!!'
And then the world imploded and its remnants were taken over by mutant gorillas from Mars.
* 'Cuz it makes an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me'!
Nevertheless, here be Chapter Quintus, and it's twice as long as the average chapter (as in 4 Microsoft Word pages instead of 2. Of course, I have non-existent margins...) to make up for certain, fobbing stupid wilderness retreats. I crashed into a friggin' tree. On snowshoes. Do you know how *slow* snowshoes are?!
On the bright side, I got my Something Corporate 'Leaving by the Window' CD at last. Interestingly enough, it was released two or so years ago. -.-
CHAPTER FIVE - - - - - - - - - -
The fine light drizzle had dissolved into mist, and it was through this film that Mr. Yagami all but dragged Kai with his right arm in his excitement. The garnet-eyed teenager had had barely enough time to substitute his usual attire for his baggy shorts and t- shirt before being bodily yanked out of the change-room and pulled outside of the school.
The muggy air dampened the brunette's voice and the sound didn't travel very far at all, but it was enough for Kai to be subjected to a fanatic recital of every soccer player expected to show at the tryouts.
At every mention of a new name, the junior's heart leaped a few notches higher. More people meant a lower chance of making the team, which meant a lower chance of being forced to attend games, practices and generally be tortured by people he really didn't want to associate with in the first place.
"...Bryan Kuznetsov's got a terrific kick, we're thinking of putting him in defence with Sergei, they're the big passers on the team, but they're leaving next year and we need subs, maybe Robert or Steve, but Steve's the goalie so he can't really do that now can he, and there's Johnny McGreggor, he's pretty good, but not a real passing kind of guy and we need him for left wing, Lai and Rei are the two regular midfielders and they work great as a team but their shooting needs work ..."
Kai made sure not to nod occasionally this time, wary of accidentally agreeing to something equally pointless and worthless as soccer tryouts.
Needless to say, the conversation was rather one-sided, and terminated abruptly upon the two figures' arrival upon the soccer field. Kai gave said soggy stretch of ground a once-over before attempting a sudden sidle to the left and back so as to leave as inconspicuously as possible.
Mr. Yagami, however, would have none of that. "C'mon Kai, the tryouts are this way!"
Digging his heels subtly into the ground proved futile Kai quickly discovered, his efforts to leave subdued by the pure energy his homeroom teacher exuded when near the black-and-white spheres various soccer team hopefuls were bouncing about on their knees. Subjecting himself to his fate and promising to steal some of Mr. Yagami's hair to create a voodoo doll later, Kai allowed himself to be hauled across the sodden earth towards the benches at the right of the field.
There, a few teenagers a couple years or so older than the slate- haired boy himself were gathered, taking notes and attendance on several clipboards that rested on the makeshift table that rested lopsidedly on the waterlogged grass.
The head coach, still clutching Kai's arm, called out to one of the taller forms.
"Hey! Tala! Got a new one for ya!"
- - - - - - - - - -
"Pathetic, really," mused Bryan, watching a few sophomores goofing off by the goal posts. One of them, a kid he identified as Takao Kinomiya, ran smack into one of the metal poles, only to be helped to his feet by a laughing blonde.
Tala glanced up from where he had just recorded 'Rei Kon' on his sign-up sheet under the caption 'Returning Players' . "We do need new members, Falcon," he replied testily, using the nickname he had given the older teen, after his fierce, aggressive playing style. "And if this is who comes out, this is who we have to choose from."
Bryan shrugged off the stern rebuke; he was used to them by now. Re-affixing his gaze on the soccer field, he suddenly whistled. Grumbling under his breath, the redhead beside him regarded Bryan again. "What is it now?" he demanded, the stress of putting together a competent team leaking into his voice.
"Oh, nothing. Just another guy coming to try out. Actually, he doesn't look too happy about it. Coach Yagami's practically dragging him."
Tala snorted, and his eyes moved back to the slightly damp paper on his weathered clipboard. "Is that all?"
"Hey, that's that new guy! The one who beat up Ushio!"
This snapped Tala's head back up. "Ushio? The bastard who's been bullying new students since eighth grade?"
Ivan shrugged at Mao the cheerleader's comment. "Do we know any other bastards? Wait, don't answer that," he added, seeing Sergei's mouth open.
"Hey! Tala! Got a new one for ya!"
Strangely familiar ice-blue irises were met with equally recognizable crimson orbs.
- - - - - - - - - -
If the bluenette realized who he was, Tala decided, he was oddly good at hiding his surprise. Or maybe he wasn't surprised at all. Or maybe he was merely pre-occupied with massaging life back into his left arm, where Coach Yagami had seized it.
Which left the redhead free to peruse the body of the slate-haired boy. A dark scarlet t-shirt and black shorts set off the alabaster skin that hid lithe muscles. Silver and sapphire hair had sprung back into the spikes that they had previously abandoned in the rain.
The slightly younger teenager (Tala guessed him to be about sixteen years of age) stood with his arms crossed, and though this shielded what Tala expected to be a well-toned chest, it left his biceps and triceps free for viewing pleasure. Oh, God, what he wouldn't do to hold that slender body against his own...
All right, enough of that. Mentally shaking away the images his strangely perverted mind was conjuring up, Tala turned to the beaming Coach of Bakuten's soccer team; anything to revert the blood flowing to his nether regions. "Name?" he barked.
The addressed trainer frowned slightly, as if confused as to why the captain would not ask the new boy for his own name, but answered, "Kai Hiwatari. I already signed him up, I think he's on page 3."
"Yeah, he's there," supplied Bryan, holding aloft his own clipboard. There, in Mr. Yagami's messy scrawl were the words 'Kai Hiwatari, rm 101, junior' below the headings 'Name', 'Homeroom', and 'Year'.
"Ah," responded Tala intelligently. Inwardly chiding himself for his inability to control his hormones, he finally turned towards this 'Kai'. The guy seemed to be edging slowly, delicately away, apparently trying for a swift escape. However, as soon as the two- toned boy felt the cobalt eyes on him, he stopped, meeting the questioning gaze with a hard glare of his own.
So. The teenager didn't want to be here, but didn't want to make a scene. However, he was already signed up, and Tala was curious as to what the enigmatic lad could do.
"What position do you play?"
No verbal response greeted the redhead's question, and Tala wondered if the bluenette even knew what soccer was. Well, he was no teacher. Let him make a fool out of himself; served him right for not answering his captain.
"Go to the left half with the rest of the newbies."
Fiery crimson eyes narrowed at being addressed as a 'newbie', before their owner stormed off to the side of the field that Tala was pointing at. The captain chuckled inwardly. Didn't like taking orders, eh?
Oh, this would be fun.
- - - - - - - - - -
"Listen up!" snapped a stocky senior, his sharp voice cutting through the chatter the younger, fresher contenders for the oh-so- coveted spots on the soccer team. The soft, lilac hue of his hair was decidedly at odds with his bossy, hardened demeanor.
"I'm Bryan Kuznetsov, but don't even think about talking to me, you'll be too busy with the tryouts as it is. We've only got eight spots left on the team," here, the lavender tinged head jerked towards the right half of the team, where the seven returning players from the previous season were listening to an equally 'cheerful' greeting from Tala, the captain, "so don't get cocky."
The thirty-some 'recruits' glanced nervously at each other, save the slate-haired boy who stood beyond the far reach of the crowd, leaning against the goal post, his arms crossed and head bowed, as if tuning out the rest of the world. Bryan didn't fail to notice this, and called to the teen, whom he recognized from sign-up. "Hey, you! Get over here with the rest of us!"
The kid's head slowly lifted, and Bryan found himself on the receiving end of a withering glare that would have been all the more effective if Bryan wasn't older and hadn't been best friends with Tala, who doled out such glowers every half-hour or so. Wordlessly, the slate-haired one pushed himself off the cool metal and strode forward, stopping at the fringe of the pack.
Those in the crowd that knew of the skirmish in the hallway just twenty or so minutes ago prodded each other excitedly, eager to share their knowledge of the teen who had beaten up Ushio with one blow with those who had yet to hear about the guy with the guts to challenge one of the most feared harassers in the history of Bakuten. Bryan noted this too, and his expression darkened.
If this Kai kid chose to interrupt or defy one of his orders, he had a large number of supporters more than willing to back him up. And with his face-paint (that was obviously waterproof, as it was still intact), he certainly looked the type to rebel.
But, to his astonishment, the garnet-eyed junior's lips twisted into a thin scowl, as if displeased by the attention. Disgust and annoyance flashed across the elegant, almost regal features so swiftly that all but Bryan missed the disgruntled emotions.
Interesting.
Filing that thought away for later examination, the pale-eyed twelfth-grader began to direct a simple passing drill. Four pylons were set up as the four vertices of a square, with four more at the center of the edges of said polygon. Four lines of eight boys were placed at each of the latter orange cones.
Four soccer balls were distributed, and the goal, as Bryan explained, was to pass the ball through the square to the line directly across from the one in which you were standing in. Once you passed, you had to run across in the same direction that your pass had gone, and join up at the end of the opposite queue. The trick was to avoid the players that were trying to do the same.
All in all, Bryan decided seven minutes in, that they weren't as utterly hapless as he had first thought. Not to say that he hadn't already cut quite a few names off the roster.
A sudden tap on the back caused the teenager to whirl around in surprise. Standing there, icy blue eyes glinting mischievously, was none other than Tala. "Hello. How's it going?"
Glancing at the right half of the soccer field, Bryan noticed that the veterans were engaging in some sort of suicide drill. That gave him an idea...
"Not too bad, Wolf. They're not as useless after all. We might actually have a chance at winning a game this year."
"Your faith in your captain is enough to bring tears to my eyes. Now, do you want to run or are you willing to stick around for a little longer with these guys?"
"Is that a well-disguised threat should I choose to leave you with these idiots?"
Tala chuckled, flicking blood-red bangs out of his eyes. "It's not well-disguised if you can pick up on it."
"Right. Anyway, I was thinking of sending the newbs off on a couple suicide runs. You know, see where they're at..."
"See where they're at, my ass. You just want to torture them, you sadistic brute."
"Yes. Yes, I do. Gonna watch?"
"Hell yes."
- - - - - - - - - -
Suicides are as tiring, painful and stressing as they sound. Basically, a row of markers is arranged in horizontal lines parallel to one edge of the field. Players are made to run from the starting line to the first marker, bend down to touch it, spring back up and sprint back to the starting line. From there, they are to run to the second marker, bend down to touch that, and then sprint back to the starting line. The same is done for the third marker, the fourth marker, etcetera, etcetera, until the poor athlete collapses.
The 'newbies' were, in short, not happy little campers when they heard of their next drill. Some were already exhausted from their first ordeal, and a loud groan arose from the lips of most everyone assembled. The returning players had been assured of a spot on the team, and had left a few minutes ago, to return on Friday, three days from now, when a few of the auditioners had been cut, with the exception, of course, of Tala, Bryan, Sergei and Ivan.
The latter two were seated in the bleachers, waiting and watching as the former went about all the tasks required of the captain and his deputy captain.
The remaining players were quickly split into a number of heats of five, so as not to crowd the field with too many runners. The first race began with the sharp 'tweet' of the plastic whistle clenched in Coach Yagami's mouth.
On the return from the fourth marker (out of six), Kai observed that some of the sprinters were already tiring. The rest were struggling valiantly to finish, but by the end of the fifth run, all five had fallen in relief upon the ground. A slate brow rose. Well, at least they had tried... though it would have been all the more impressive if they had actually completed the exercise.
Kai, being in the sixth and last heat, watched the other races as impassively as Tala and Bryan themselves. His fellow athletes jogged, loped and scuttled their hearts out, but in the end, hardly any were able to finish the drill. Crimson irises narrowed. The two captains seemed to be dismayed as well, eying the sprinters in a frustrated but not altogether disappointed manner. They had obviously not been expecting anybody to conclude their little training session of doom.
In an instant, and quite irrationally, as Kai had originally had no wish to make the soccer team, the slate-haired boy vowed to show his elders that he was no weakling, and that he could take anything they threw at him.
Finally, the sixth round was called to the starting line. If Kai had looked up, he would have noticed the cerulean eyes watching his every move.
"TWEET!"
The shrill screech sounded and the torment began.
Kai was the first off the start, and soon left the rest of the pack in his dust. Well, actually, in his dirt clods, as the ground was too wet to be kicked up into billowing clouds of soil. He reached the first marker easily, crouching slightly to swipe at the sodden earth with the tips of his fingers, only to pivot deftly and race back, passing his fellow runners on his return to the starting line.
The process was completed five more times, and by the time the junior had finished the race course, a stunned silence had overcome the crowd, broken only by the panting returns of his fellow sixth heat runners, who had stopped after their fourth marker.
Breathing lightly, Kai stretched himself up so as to relieve his the slight cramps in his calves and hamstrings. Glancing at the captains so as to gauge their reaction, he was not completely surprised to see that they were hunched over their clipboards, taking notes. Feh. Screw them. It was 5:34 pm, his Grandfather was probably suffering an aneurysm, he had homework to ignore, and a shower to take.
Silently, the slate-hair shifted down, almost of its own accord, to shield the crimson eyes, and the pale teenager walked off into the darkening night.
- - - - - - - - - -
Later that night, poring over the words he had written on his clipboard, Tala reached out to grab a red pen and slowly unscrewed it, sapphire eyes never leaving the dog-eared pages. Carefully, deliberately, large red 'x's began to adorn various names on the sheet. He would, the captain decided, cut seventeen of the new players. Then, he would have fifteen to choose his final eight from.
Finally, after numerous pauses and even more rethinks, he had whittled down the list of thirty-two to twenty-seven. That was still way too many.
Rubbing sleep from his eyes Tala attacked the paper once more. The next swipes of red ink were swift and decisive, and, at last, there were a mere twenty-one left. One name in particular stood out on the page. Kai Hiwatari.
Unbidden, a mental image of the lean boy's form sprang to mind. An image of those long legs stretching out to gain new ground, of ruby eyes narrowed in concentration, of elegant fingers stretching forward to brush against hard earth. Of the hostile glare, of the silent confidence, almost arrogance.
Of beauty.
But this time, unlike last, Tala didn't push away these thoughts. Instead, he sat back in his desk chair and contemplated them leisurely.
The slate-banged boy had gained new respect in his eyes after the suicide runs. There was something in those fiery irises that drew Tala to him, that surprised, shocked, awed and left him speechless.
There was something deep inside Kai, something burning, untouchable and untamable. Something that drew Tala in like a flame does a moth.
And he was determined to find out.
- - - - - - - - - -
The front door of the stately old Victorian house slammed shut, and Kai Hiwatari entered the home of his grandfather, prepared for the worst. He wasn't used to having somebody around to worry about him, and though he wasn't sure if Voltaire was like that, sixteen years of hardship and tribulation had taught him to never assume*.
Circling 'round the ground floor, Kai realized that nobody was home. Entering the dining room for the second time, the teenager noticed the sheaf of paper on the wooden table.
'Kai,' it read in a graceful, curving script,
'I have business to attend to with a colleague of mine, Boris Balkov. There is food in the refrigerator, you are permitted to eat what is there. I will arrive home at midnight, and I expect to see you in bed.
Your Grandfather.'
Well, that solved that problem. Not feeling particularly hungry, Kai left the note where he'd found it and headed upstairs to the small, white-walled room he had claimed as his a week or so ago. Stripping down so as to take a shower, Kai wondered then quickly dismissed the idea of telling his grandfather about soccer.
'Say no more than necessary' had always been his motto.
Actually, 'Never trust anybody' was his motto.
- - - - - - - - - -
To be Continued
Out of curiosity, does anybody want me to make this more of a Drama, Action/Adventure type thing involving Voltaire's 'business' and Boris? I wasn't planning to, but the words in the note just kind of popped out at me, and my brain kind of went, 'Ya know? You suck at writing romance. Why not stick to what you know: psychotic, half-formed plots involving Voltaire and his cronies?'
And I kind of went, 'I resent that. And how exactly am I capable of speaking to my own brain?'
And then my brain went, 'I dunno. It's your alternate reality.'
And then my readers just kinda went, 'Shut up already.'
And then I went, 'HAHA!!! NO MORE WILDERNESS ADVENTURES!!!'
And then the world imploded and its remnants were taken over by mutant gorillas from Mars.
* 'Cuz it makes an 'ass' out of 'u' and 'me'!
