It's been little more than a week and a half since I first picked up my sketchbook and a mechanical pencil and began to write. It's been little more than a week since I bit my fingernails, anxiously awaiting my first review, eager and yet fearful to know of what others thought of my work.

I've plotted, and planned, discarded ideas that I knew would never work and filed away those that I thought just might.

And I don't disillusion myself by telling my reflection in the mirror that I would have been able to do it without the support of my readers. So thanks, y'all, you mean a helluva lot to me. Every one of you. I salute you, summa cum laude.

By the way, what's a 'beta'?

CHAPTER SEVEN - - - - - - - - - - -

60.

59.

58.

The thinnest hand of the wall clock moved ponderously, slowly, as if relishing the attention it drew away from Ms. Azuki's fascinating lecture on chemical compounds. The males in the classroom were particularly eager to leave the painfully white science lab; some were all but hunched over in a runner's crouch.

It was, after all, last period on a Friday afternoon.

And if the promise of two days' freedom wasn't incentive enough to make a sprint for the door, the second and final soccer tryout certainly was. Bakuten High was ablaze with rumours of Kai Hiwatari, his supposed soccer skills and his confirmed good looks.

It was only through arriving at classes a few seconds before the bell, sitting at random and unpredictable locations on the school grounds at lunch and leaving immediately after dismissal that Kai was able to keep his treacherous fingers from wrapping around somebody's throat.

Not to say that the slate-haired youth had forgotten about the pending tryouts, seeing as he had no wish to draw anymore unwanted attention.

Oh, no.

In fact, Kai Hiwatari had already concocted a simple and very effective plan to get out of going to the field today after school. It had taken him all of three seconds, and where other, less competent shirkers would have devised an intricate plan that involved the flooding of the change rooms, Kai's was much more basic: in precisely 20 seconds, when he rose from his desk to leave chemistry class, he would trip and twist his ankle.

It was quick. It was comparatively painless. It was foolproof.

8.

7.

6.

Most everyone in the room leaned forward in their seats, expectantly, anxiously watching the clock.

3.

2.

1.

RING.

There was a shrill explosion of noise and Ms. Azuki's explanation of valence electrons was drowned out by the scream of the dismissal bell. Said teacher tried in vain to re-gather her students' attention so as to assign the homework, but her voice was lost to the clattering of chairs being pushed out and the thumping of sneakers moving towards the door.

'And now...' thought Kai, a slight smirk curling his lips, 'it's showtime.'

He stood and stepped forward. The chair a few metres ahead of him had been pushed back roughly, and one of the metal legs protruded into the aisle. Perfect.

Kai positioned himself so that his own right leg would hook around the chair's. Then he slid his left foot forward. Gravity did the rest.

But it would appear that gravity was being a bitch today, because there was a sudden jolt, and the bluenette stopped falling.

'...What the— Oh. Look. Somebody's grabbed me. Bloody meddlers...'

"Hey, you okay, man?"

'Why can't life ever be unfair in my favour?'

- - - - - - - - - - -

The boys' change room was ominously empty. The only sounds were the rustling of clothing as those who were about to be judged adjusted their gym uniforms with shaky hands and the occasional, short chatter, of the sort meant to buoy confidence. Hushed whispers would break out now and then, only to die into uncomfortable silence shortly thereafter.

Kai found it all laughable.

He was seated in the far corner as usual, tucked into the shadowy, forgotten little nook that's in every room. He had already changed into his shorts and t-shirt and was now surveying the scene with calm apathy. Kai himself didn't know why he was here, though it probably had something to do with his pride and stubbornness. But the others?

Why did they put themselves through this? Really, it was all stress and worry. Nerves mounted into a strange sort of anxiety that ate away at self-esteem and filled the mind with doubt and uncertainty. The looming trial pushed all coherent thought from the brain, submerging it in a sort of nervous haze, until all you could think about was what could go wrong.

All that would come of thoughts like that, Kai felt, was failure. His own hesitation was packed away into a little black box and stored at the back of his head. Not because, he assured himself, he actually wanted to make the team, and certainly not because the captain was admittedly very, very good-looking ('Okay, where the hell did that come from?!'). It was his pride. Right. He could deal with that. Anyway.

"Hey! Neophytes! Get your asses out here! It's time." Bryan's voice, cool and commanding, cut through the quiet prattle easily, its authoritative sound echoing off the linoleum tiled floor and walls. Awkward quiet reigned for a few seconds as the new players second- guessed and hesitated. Then, one by one, they gathered their legs beneath them and walked, shaking slightly, to the door, presumably on their way to the field.

Kai was the last to leave.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Takao's heart was beating. He could hear, no, he could feel every throb in his ears, in his throat, in his very being. All around him, his fellow soccer team hopefuls moved nervously, shifting from one cleated foot to the other, anxiety clear from the light in their eyes to the way they curled and uncurled their fingers. Adrenalin raced through his system, the need to run rocketing back and forth in his mind.

The field felt springy. Not wet, but a sort of pliable squishiness that caused the mud and grass to squelch beneath their feet as they walked towards the centre of the field. It was amazing what you notice whilst trying to concentrate on something else.

The novices were led by Bryan, who left them to join with the eight other returning players, who watched impassively as their possible teammates halted before them.

The bleachers, once full of raucous cheers, had fallen silent. All eyes were fixed upon the tall form of Tala Ivanov.

His voice sounded clearly across the soccer pitch.

"Welcome, newbies, to day two of the tryouts. You've made it this far, but in the end, only eight of you will be joining the Bakuten team.

"Defensive players go to the Home bench. Offensive players go to the Away bench. If you aren't sure where you belong, leave. You have no place here.

This is no girl scouts camp. The tryouts begin now."

A motionless quiet descended upon the assembled, players and spectators alike. Then a rush of movement swept all into its embrace, and those that had once stood motionless were now like so many bees: rushing, racing, eager to show their worth.

Takao sprinted, not walked, not ran, but sprinted, towards the Away bench. His heart was still pounding, and his feet moved in tandem to the thuds. His companions did the same, separating into the two directions, parting ways on their route to acceptance and victory.

He mouthed a silent prayer to whatever deity was listening. 'Please, please, don't let me make a fool of myself.'

- - - - - - - - - - -

It reminded him of an army drill. Well, not quite. For one thing, the 'recruits' were hardly disciplined, speaking and whispering amongst themselves nervously. And for another, there were no guns and weapons involved. Only speed, stamina, and a little round ball.

Kai had been momentarily flustered when the neophytes had divided into two paths, one headed for the Home bench and the other for the Away. But the moment had passed, and he now found himself standing with the other forwards and attacking midfielders. Johnny McGreggor, Rei Kon and Lai Chen stood at the fore of the group. Kai recognized the latter two from class, and the former from that interesting little meeting in the halls on Tuesday.

The redhead seemed to be very much in contempt of the new players, eying them coldly from his perch atop the bench. Scorn emanated off his body in almost-visible waves of disdain. Kai inwardly chuckled. What a pompous brat. Surprisingly, it was he who addressed the eight players first.

"We'll start with shooting. Steve," here, the speaking youth waved a casual hand in the direction of a large, heavy-set senior moving towards the goal, "will be the keeper. Get into two equal lines."

There was a shuffling, as nobody wanted to move first and thus draw the attention of the veterans to themselves.

'Really commands obedience, doesn't he,' Kai's inner voice muttered snidely.

Finally, a figure that Kai identified as that Takao kid stepped forward and walked towards the goal crease. Following his lead, the remaining seven players arranged themselves at the twenty-yard box as well. "Finally," Kai heard one of the Chinese trainers (Lai, was it?) mutter.

Standing as he was at the back of the right line, Kai was able to keep a close eye on his 'opponents', not to mention the spectators. He noted with an imperceptible shudder that half of the latter was watching him hungrily, and the former kept shooting curious and interested (in more ways than one) looks.

Whoopee.

- - - - - - - - - - - [*]

Shooting drills are insanely easy to comprehend. Doing it properly, however, requires a significantly higher level of skill and intelligence.

Let's start with the goalie. Steve, the great, hulking guy who currently stands at the centre of the goal, legs spread and arms outstretched, has a very basic job: stop the little spinning sphere from hitting the back of the net. This, however, is a problem when the player controlling said sphere is charging straight at you, dead- set on hammering the ball in your general direction.

Needless to say, Steve is, and has to be, very solid and dependable: the position of goalie is one of the most nerve-wracking in the game.

Then there are the shooters themselves. As Johnny so kindly explained, they are to stand in two equal lines at the edge of the penalty box furthest from the keeper. One of the lines is at the far left, and the other is at the far right.

Now, Rei and Lai have positioned themselves at the corners of the field, one on each side. They each possess a good number of soccer balls. Their job is to feed the ball to the player whose turn it is to shoot: Rei, who is at the right corner, passes to the left line, and Lai, who is at the left corner, passes to the right line.

Finally, the shooter takes his shot. It's a one-touch, meaning he can't first stop the ball, dribble it up, aim, and then punt the hapless sphere. No, he has to line up his kick at the exact moment his foot meets it.

Which was making for a very interesting drill.

The first few kicks were wildly inaccurate, soaring over the goal, past the goal, at the bleachers, etcetera, etcetera. The players who had booted the ball were made to run after it, then move to the end of the line opposite of the one they were just in.

A cocky, tall magenta-haired senior wearing a baseball cap was second in the left queue, and scored the first direct hit to the goal. Steve caught the ball easily, but that didn't stop the shooter from flashing a dazzling grin and blowing a kiss to the crowd.

Takao Kinomiya, third in the right line (the same one, incidentally, that Kai himself was in), managed to flick the ball upwards into an arc that would have made it past most goalies in the high school league. But Steve was no incompetent amateur, and he leaped up to bat the black-and-white globe away.

The flirtatious blonde that Kai had met in the hallway was the shooter right before Kai, and his shot, though infinitely closer to the mark than some of its predecessors, bounced harmlessly off the top crossbars. Scowling, the boy shot a scathing glare at Johnny, who was now laughing (the two had placed a bet on the outcome of Enrique's first shot) before running off to retrieve his ball.

And then it was Kai's turn.

There was an almost audible intake of breath as the youth stepped forward. Murmurs and mutters leaked out of the stands as several pairs of eyes took in the proud form of Kai Hiwatari. A couple females squealed, some drooled, but most merely sat up in their seats, keen on seeing what made this guy so special. They would soon receive their answer.

Lai considered blasting instead of passing the ball to the garnet- eyed teenager, but decided that that really wouldn't be fair. Besides, if this kid was as great as some said he was, that plan would probably backfire. So the ebony-haired senior drew back his leg and flicked the soccer ball, taking care to add the same amount of power that he had used for the previous shooters, towards Kai Hiwatari.

The hexagon-adorned sphere, however, seemed to have different ideas. It veered awkwardly off the path Lai had turned it onto when it hit an uneven bump in the grass, so instead of a perfect, straight-on ground pass, Kai was left with a randomly bouncing one. Analytical crimson irises absorbed this little flaw, and the dual-haired boy adjusted his footing, so that most of his weight was centred on his right leg.

The ball rolled ever closer.

When it was about a metre away, and still bouncing erratically, Kai's left leg swung backwards. His foot struck the top half of the soccer ball at the height of its arc, and the ball seemed to pause its flight to grasp this new development. Then it flew away, little more than a spinning blur.

Steve's eyes narrowed as they tried to pinpoint the sphere's location. Too late did the goalie realize that the ball was curving, and right after the keeper dove to his left, Kai's shot slammed into the top right of the net.

There was an appreciative silence, as spectators and players alike watched to see what would happen next. Kai still stood with his left foot in front from when he had kicked the ball. Now, he shifted his balance once more, so that he was more stable, and walked towards the goal. He offered a curt nod towards Steve the goalie, before bending down to snatch up the black-and-white sphere. Backing away from the net, Kai tossed the ball to Rei, who caught it slightly clumsily, before turning back and joining the end of the left line.

There were three more shots fired by each new player that day.

Only one person managed to get all of his in.

- - - - - - - - - - -

Aaah... One-on-ones. The ultimate show-off opportunity, if you play your cards right, and are fairly skillful at avoiding, evading, getting past and fooling your opponents.

Like most drills, it is easily understood. The name itself is fairly self-explanatory: one defender and one offender are set up against each other, a ball is dropped, and the two are made to fight for control. The winner is the one who can successfully maneuver the precious sphere away and pass it through the two pylons that make up the target.

Tala, as captain, was obliged to witness all aspects of the tryout. He had been with the defenders for the previous drill, and so was now standing with Johnny, Rei and Lai. Not that it made any difference: defense and offense had been mixed up for the time being.

The redhead had seen Kai's shot, had seen a little of what the slightly younger male could do. Now he wanted to see what else the slate-haired boy had up his sleeves. So did, it seemed, the rest of those present at the tryouts.

The first face-off was between the green-haired Olivier and the navy- haired Takao, defender and offender respectively. Takao won, but he only managed to squeak the pass through the pylons: Olivier had been covering his every move.

The second match was between Kevin [**] and Enrique, again, defender and offender. Enrique, being older and taller, was able to keep the ball away from the pony-tailed boy and make the shot. Kevin, however, put up a good fight, and both were covered in bruises by the end of their lengthy battle.

There were a few more rather uneventful confrontations, and then the crowd looked back up from the metaphorical paperbacks they had metaphorically been reading to watch Kai take his place at the centre of the small field that had been specially arranged for the one-on-one drills. His opponent, a tall, bulky senior that the slate- haired youth had yet to meet personally, grinned, his thin lips twisting into a feral smirk.

"You ready for this?"

"I was born ready." The cool, clichéd response caused Kai to privately cringe. Where was this macho crap coming from? Must be a side effect from hanging around these muscle-headed jocks for forty- five minutes straight.

It began.

Kai allowed his adversary to reach the ball first by half a stride. He wanted the taller teenager to get overconfident. Then, Kai would be free to undermine his defenses. And overconfident the large youth became.

"'Sthat all ya got, kid? C'mon, don't tell me the famous Kai Hiwatari can't even deke properly..."

In an effort to impress the team captain, Kai's opponent tried to pull off a Maradona: a very advanced and extraordinary move that required skill, practice and speed to work. And, admittedly, the guy was fast. But Kai was faster.

With the swiftness of a striking cobra, Kai's foot lashed out and hooked around the ball. Stumbling, but not quite falling, the scarlet-eyed youth's opposition snarled, and turned to face his antagonist, who was currently in possession of the black-and-white orb. What followed could best be described as a haze of pure, unrivalled speed. Kai literally weaved circles around his older opponent. He was dizzying, unmatchable in his effortless grace.

Then, with one well-placed tap, the ball was rolling through the target.

Tala watched through narrowed eyes. Hiwatari was quick. Very, very quick. And, judging from his earlier performance, powerful as well. But he lacked experience and the necessary skills. He hadn't pulled any proper moves yet, and though he really didn't need to, he would if he made the team. And there was no doubt in Tala's mind that when he posted the names for the soccer team come Monday that Kai Hiwatari would be written near the top.

Which meant extra practice for the slate-haired boy. Tala allowed himself a smirk. Extra practice indeed...

- - - - - - - - - - -

To be Continued

Yeah. 'Deep meaning-ness' snuck in when I wasn't looking. See, everybody is making such a big deal of this tryout thing; they're freaking praying about it, it's become an obsession, it's become their life. And then there's Kai, who's seen real war, felt real pressure, and he knows that this, this is nothing.

Or summat. Piff.

Anyway, that was kind of a funny way to end the story. Now, tell me, should I write the weekend? Or ignore it and move on to Monday? Because if I write about Saturday and Sunday, I might actually have to have a plot. *gasp*

[*] I'm a soccer player myself, and I sometimes take for granted my admittedly obsessive memorization of sports terms. So if you have no idea what the hell I'm talking about, search 'soccer field diagram' on Google. Heh.

[**] I'm sorry, but I just can't refer to the little monkey as Kiki without laughing my poor ass off. And since that would seriously screw up my typing, the green-haired imp shall be dubbed Kevin from here on in. Hey, I've already screwed up Tala by not calling him Yuri and Enrique by not calling him Giancarlo (for my reasoning, see above), and accidentally called Kyouju 'Kyoujyu' for the past three or so chapters. But whatcha gonna do?

The way I see it, if I've made a mistake that really pisses you off, tell me in your review. Other than that, it stays. For I am a lazy little buffalo.