Writing? In 2020? In this economy? I guess so. Enjoy!
Muggy air, the smell of grass trimmed to regulation length, the grinding of packed dirt under his metal cleats, the booming echo of the announcers voice ricocheting around the stadium, and the rush of hot breath through his lips as he exhaled and took to the mound.
The light burrowed its way to the back of his skull, tickling the undulations of his already furiously irritable brain. His mind felt like it was finishing a swim out of the depths of unconsciousness, almost having completely buoyed itself back into the light waves of the waking realm. It was the natural way to wake up, the only civilized way as far as he was concerned. Any attempt other than this kind of gentle easement into the new expanse was one that would cause every single cell in his body to curl up and hiss at like an angry cat; and right now, this sensation, like a troop of dwarves were burrowing their way through his head with pickaxes, whistling inane Disney tunes as they went was definitely a method that his body abhorred.
Every part of his face twitched involuntarily like he was staring down…down the floodlights of the Akita Stadium.
Number 49, Relief Pitcher Neji Hyuga, a very promising new prospect. Here he comes now from the bullpen, we look forward to seeing how he'll fare tonight.
The light was only just barreling down his sockets to smack the very insides of his brain around, and cognizant memories were already jogging along at a leisurely pace, giving him formal notice that yes he was awake...oh, and everything hurt. He handled this announcement with all the deft action a man two seconds out of sleep and two seconds away from returning to that sweet blissful state of mind where he didn't have to deal with this crap. He mustered his willpower, commanded the muscles to spring into action and with all the gusto of a freshly buried corpse rolled his dogged and stiff form onto his side in order to dodge the incessant yellow interruptions…Ok, now everything just seemed to hurt a good deal more.
Meiji University, sidelined during his senior year but he's finally making his showing in the big leagues…Good form here, and now the windup!...
He hocked the comforter, a warm hand stitched quilt, black and blue ringlet designs looping endlessly across its surface up into the fold between his neck and shoulder and tried nestling his head in that to shield him from the sunlight. His head was still heavy, like every last organ associated with his senses were wading through a pool of chocolate pudding while trying to do their jobs.
Yeah this could work. Awake he may have been, but in this position it wouldn't take that much effort, not much at all and he could get a good additional hour or two in. The pudding sensation slowly began to seep back into his brain and for a second he could feel the unconscious waters again…
CRACK! Oh and it looks like Yotsuya saw that one coming! It's a long fly ball to right field!
No dice. The memory was like an uncomfortable shot of adrenaline, charging his brain and kicking his heart so that it skipped a beat. It called attention to the stiffness in his lower back where it felt like someone had a clamp on those muscles. All across his thighs there was a distinct sore, burning sensation. And of course…
Bases loaded, down by 3 and this is looking like a complete disaster for the Red Cranes.
Neji Hyuga returned to his default position, rolling stiffly over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling fan, watching it go round and round. The room was balmy, almost relaxingly warm. The golden light, doubtless colored the same as the tassels of the corn crop which were grown as far as the eye could follow the horizon in this part of the world, continued burgling its way into his room. Those infernal beams of sunlight that had all but punched him awake just lay there. Lazily filtering through the slats of the window shades like they were mocking him.
The rhythmic sound of the mahogany clock ticking the seconds away drew his attention to the far wall. 7:30 A.M. Another early morning, like so many others brought on by the memory of what he could only call the worst late game fumble in the history of Northern Japan Baseball…ok so maybe that's only what the news outlets would call it…over and over again, on every station, in every paper and on every news site for weeks on end.
There it is! A direct hit! Going! Going! GONE!
He was awake, not much he could do about that now. Slowly, his arms splayed out behind him, gaze never shifting from the perpetually spinning fan blades. They gave off an electrical hum as they swiveled endlessly around the ceiling, always just off time with the ticking seconds of the clock. Outside he could hear the faint tinkling of wind chimes joined somewhat infrequently by the scratching of branches against the houses old beige siding. All the while the songs of…what were those, wood thrushes out? Whatever they were, they trilled their tiny hearts out like divas from the every swaying maple branch just outside the house as the wind chimes answered them in kind.
Moooooo
Oh yeah, and those were most certainly cows below his second floor window doing…whatever it was that cows did in his hosts yard. He wished he could've mustered the interest to sit up and take stock of what appeared to be the collective middle finger from all of creation towards his efforts to sleep. If he could even muster the energy to be surprised he would have considered it a win, and yet this seemed positively tame, completely in line with his expectations for his new home. He just hoped that these weren't the same cows from last night…actually, best not to ruminate on that right now.
Memories, mementos of the past niggled at the back of his mind, reminding that he wasn't in Japan anymore. He lay there, soaking in the atmosphere of his new rural abode. Sofia, Iowa, the middle of corn country, a town of a little more than one thousand people where cows apparently had the run of the streets. What a turn of events this was.
One Month Earlier
Akita was a largely rural prefecture in the north of Japan, renowned for it's serene scenic spots, humble cities and rice farms with dashes of medieval history sprinkled throughout the region. A lonely samurai walking through the downtown streets, sandals on feet, sword in hand; a lonely castle perched on the edge of a red and green forest now transformed into a hot springs resort by the same family that had owned it for generations, a historical society located in the bowels of a mall, it's main office located just across the hall from the arcade with the massive Virtua Fighter arcade machines.
For a young man with a veritable artillery piece for an arm, grilled in the gyms, styled in the techniques of the southern leagues and looking to make his name this was not his first choice of city (if one could ever use that term after wandering bustling Tokyo for as long as he had). Yet, after the multiple phone calls his uncle made on his behalf and the no small 8 hour train ride north to Akita City that he'd accompanied him on Neji knew better than to voice his dissatisfaction to the man who has conjured this sudden opportunity for him seemingly out of thin air.
The conductor himself had walked to their seats to give them a formal greeting just before the vehicle left the station, something to do with his uncle's business activities. Neji remained silent through the encounter, simply maintaining his posture and politely bowing when introduced. He could certainly have postulated about the reasons for the special treatment, but then quite frankly he didn't really care.
The conductor left their room and in the distance Neji spied him tap an elderly looking woman, hair an esteemed white on the shoulder and whisper in her ear. The woman's face quickly lit up as she rolled her food trolley past them and gestured wordlessly towards the pickings available to the travelers. Neji motioned a stiff arm towards the sports drinks and dropped a bill to her hand without a second glance. The woman bowed her head in appreciation and gave him a sideways look between him and the cart as if to ask 'anything else?'
Neji nodded to his uncle, a return gesture that clearly indicated he was done but that his Uncle was definitely interested in sampling the options available to him.
He popped the top to his Pocari with nary a facial emotion as he watched his uncle sink his disapproving eyes into him while the elder woman tried to ply him with boxes of gummies and chocolate candy bars.
They remained characteristically stoic throughout the encounter, without a single word exchanged between them. It was an attitude and air that Neji hardly minded cultivating, especially with his uncle. Life was loud enough as it was and his Uncle was hardly the most stimulating individual to make small talk with. Still, it was nice to break the ice every once in awhile, if just for a moment.
It felt good, especially after being cooped up for so long. His arm twitched at the thought, a gentle reminder of the injury he'd sustained in his right shoulder that had kept him off the field right through scouting season and graduation. Now, after all this time waiting and lounging around through the endless tests and exercises in rehab it finally felt like his life was moving forward again.
The train thundered down the tracks as the minutes ticked away. The world outside the windows soon became flashes of fields and forests, one after another all blending together. Soon enough Neji eased back into that patient, calm, conservative demeanor, his default frame of mind he'd held for so many years. Fun was fun, business was its own ball game entirely. He held the same demeanor throughout the rest of the train ride, on the taxi trip to their host's manor, up until the very point where he set himself down on the flooring. Then and only very briefly, did he allow the mask to fade for just long enough to indulge his curiosity.
Even with his eyes set on the far doors, and his own figure composed in a cross legged position on the floor Neji was still easily able to take in the "décor" of the Yakushi meeting room. Traditional, sullen, somber…perhaps banal if he was to continue with the adjectives. It was the very model of traditional Japanese style and function. Well decorated and laced Tatami mats, sliding shoji doors all painted to depict, in bloody detail the highlights of the Sengoku period, roofs and beams of Japanese pine, all very grandiose and ornate. The entire set up was impressive and undoubtedly expensive, but beyond that, well it was certainly smaller than the ones that had been installed back at the family compound.
This was the Yakushi manor, home to his new potential patron, a mob boss or quite possibly, since he was dealing with his uncles contacts here, both. The Yakushi's were a family ingratiated in the upper echelons of the cities movers and shakers thanks to years of contributions to the field of medical equipment. The same medical equipment, Neji had been informed that had assisted him all those months while he was shacked up in the hospital.
He stretched his shoulders slightly, flexing the eager muscles that had seen so much use during his long stint at Meiji University and their renowned baseball program. His body tingled at the sensation and his right hand shut subconsciously, grasping at an imaginary ball that wasn't there. It seemed his shoulders weren't the only things ready to get back into the game.
"Gentlemen, so glad you could join us today." A voice dallied through the air, genial and almost melodic in tone.
Kabuto Yakushi strolled into the room, hair tied up behind his head, doctors coat slung over his shoulder and blasé humor on his face; the very essence of slimy business casual incarnated into human form.
Instinctually, without a prompt or nod Neji rose to his feet, his uncle by his side. He let his senior extend his hands in greeting first, posture bowed slightly forward as a sign of respect before he followed suit, extending his own greeting the split second Kabuto's hand disconnected.
As soon as his eyes plumbed the mans gaze, making contact at the same moment that their hands collided for a firm handshake Neji spied the look in them, one so similar to the look of his uncle and his multiple extralegal companions. Not that this was much of a surprise, Kabuto just checked so many boxes on his mental checklist of people who looked like they spent their nights cavorting with the local robber barons.
His brain made one connection after another, almost compiling a profile of the man. The Yakushi family: great reach with the local council. Their competitors? All seemed to go under with extreme prejudice. Connections? Well his uncle was here, that one should speak for itself. Yakuza? Definitely. Enforcers? Most probably. If Neji had to guess he would've said that on this mans back was tattooed the crimson mark of the Hannya mask.
A little disconcerting perhaps, but not at all surprising. Inked across his own Uncle's back was the orange Yakuza Koi Fish, making it's way up against the rapid rushing waters of the waterfall. It provided the mark of ambition, a reminder to the others in his Uncle's company that his entire career had been one of struggle...and it provided Hanabi with the perfect fish faced look to make whenever her father turned his back, lips curled up and eyes bugged out.
Such acquaintances weren't something he was going to loose any sleep over. Not that it was any of his business anyways. Side branches of the family were concerned not so much with the family business, but "extracurricular" activities.
"So this is your nephew then? How's the shoulder?" Kabuto asked getting straight to business, hand only just now unclasping itself from his and slapping the wounded article like a hunter gauging his prey's reaction.
He replied with something confident, self assured, a bit wry with just a smattering of bravado. It came to him instinctually. He'd been grilled by the family from an early age on how men in these particular worlds, caught up in the deluge of fast paced Japanese business were always looking for the same things, how they were flattered by the same compliments and enjoyed finding the same traits in all their hires. As such the same greetings and replies, learned by rote straight from the mouth of his uncle could be memorized and recited at most any of his required social functions to great effect.
This was just the latest in a long line of such recitations. He rattled off a list of pleasantries as Kabuto continued his fake amiable laughter. All the time his Uncle stood silently behind him, looking on with approval. It was never personal, as everyone in the Hyuga clan knew, it was always about the business. Be direct in your dealings, don't suffer dawdlers, keep the spice flowing…
"Well we are right in the middle of the season, but since I happen to hold the purse strings for this little franchise I'm sure I can convince some folks to give you a shot." That was that. Just like so many times before. "I've only got one question for you. When can you start?"
And that was how, on July 29th, in the Red Cranes stadium in Akita, Japan at the top of the 8th, in front of a capacity crowd that Neji Hyuga ended up walking out onto the field, sporting the number 49 stitched across his white home team jersey.
As he left the bullpen he felt the veritable storm of applause hit him. Passion for the sport, from the professional leagues all the way down to the high school teams was tightly ingrained into most of the country. Hours after signing the paperwork he'd seen the pages begin to fly on the forums, picking over his record from as far back as they existed, analyzing his fit in Akita, looking at what he could bring to the pitching rotation. Everyone seemed to be pouring over it, professionals, old veterans, armchair coaches, internet trolls. Anyone who could man they keys seemed to have an opinion.
Now, stepping out onto the turf as the crowd continued to roar, he saw these keyboard warriors in their natural habitat. From the dedicated fans of his college team Meiji University who now chanted their motto from the front row to the back, to the locals waving signs, pennants, shirts flags and banners bigger than they were it was almost like watching applause become physical form. A mass of humanity in the home town red jerseys with just enough Meiji azure blue streaks to mix it up.
At that instant he began the process of drowning out the clash of the crowds. He jammed his fist into the palm of his pitchers mitt repeatedly. Once, twice, three times. Focusing on the padding sound it made when it hit the leather center. Thump, thump, thump. He closed his eyes as he continued his walk, focusing only on that sound, playing it over and over. Gradually, the crowd descended from a roar, to a boom, to white noise, to a distant chattering the background. Just another routine and necessary exercise to remove the distractions.
This was it, only one chance to make a first impression.
And now, from Meiji University, second relief pitcher Neji Hyuga!
The clock had read 8:45 pm when he'd left the dugout. By this time the light rain from that morning had given way to partially cloudy skies and some humid weather that was just beginning to abate while the sun finished slipping out of the sky. The stadium lights were now glowering down on him, like another 3 pairs of eyes watching and waiting for his debut pitch in the big leagues.
The Chiba Albatross 1, Akita Red Cranes 5, top of the 8th, one out, one man on first.
He dusted his shoes against the official mound, looking to maintain a degree of poise as his stomach did swam dives into a pit of his own uneasiness. It's the same as high school, same as uni, just a bigger stage and bigger batters, he told himself over and over again; same crap, different stadium. From the bench the coach, old Mr. Mifune gave him the nod, the go ahead to start. He nodded, raising his glove and catching the hard toss from the umpire.
From his glove he plucked out the red and white ball, turning it over in his hand for what felt like an eternity. A pile of dreams packaged into five ounces of yarn, cork and leather, his pile of dreams to be precise. He looked back down his firing range towards the Red Cranes catcher who gave him a singular knowing nod.
From behind the mask Neji detected the same disquiet that he'd sensed in the locker rooms upon arrival. The fresh faced untested rookie showing up to a guaranteed spot by the owners mandate, now wasn't that an interesting story? It was an understandable sentiment seeing as how they probably didn't know him from Adam…He drowned the thoughts from his head. The mound was the single last place for doubts. He'd done this his whole life, he knew how the game was played and if he played it well those doubts would all be forgotten by the end of the 9th.
He fist clenched around the ball even harder as the next Chiba played walked from the box and in front of home plate.
And now, batting 3rd in the lineup, for the China Albatross', Kisame Hoshigake!
His stomach did another backflip and the sounds of the crowds cut through his concentration. The visitors from the Pacific League absolutely exploded at the name of the All-Star. The Meiji University alumns may have had to drag their old pennants from college out, but the Kisame fan club had dragged their banners all the way north. Veritable flags with the players name on it were being waved all across the back row as the fans broke into a sea shanty about their hero.
Even from the mound, such a distance away Kisame appeared to be an enormous monster of a man, his face little more than a stolid sneer as he stood pigeon toed outside home plate, bat hanging behind him, making it dance over his right shoulder as if it was a toothpick in his giant paws. His beady shark like eyes seemed to zero in on the ball in Neji's hand, tracking it even as it popped up and down in the pitchers hand.
3rd was not an ideal point in time to start pitching to the batting lineup. Conventionally, the first and second players at bat were designated with the task of getting on base. These two created the set up for the third batter, usually the most consistent and powerful hitter on the entire roster. If the first and second players managed to get on base then it became the job of players three through five in the roster to bring them home with powerful long drives; and Kisame in particular seemed to be a power hitter amongst power hitters.
From the plate his opponent seemed to be gritting his teeth, still staring him down. Neji, used to quick analysis allowed his gaze to rest there for just a moment. He sized his opponents up all the time, calculating the best way to get the ball past them. Here though, his eyes rested on Kisame's jaw movement for a hair's breadth of a second, on the sharp points of his teeth, and murderous look in his eyes. Though it was almost imperceptible to anyone else Kisame, the consummate veteran picked up on it all. The glance, the slight turtling in posture, the change in grip on the ball, Kisame saw it and smiled like there was blood in the water.
The catcher signaled him, Neji nodded and edged the ball up his palm and across the length of his fingers. Closing his eyes he took a deep breath. There was a snap of his neck back towards first base as he checked the runner dancing like a kindergarten girl playing hopscotch just as far off the bag as he could get away with. Neji held his gaze just long enough to make the runner think twice before he wound himself up.
It was a throw like he'd made literally thousands of times before, one he'd been perfecting since he was old enough to throw properly. Curl the leg inward, pull it towards your person, lead the ball up past your face and over your head, concealed the entire time by the glove, protect it on your person until the last minute, fasten your hand around the ball and then…all at once the stance unfurled the foot found its way down like it was made of lead, his arm cranked back and then yanked forward, letting the tips of his fingers slip off the ball and snapping his wrist sending the objected tumbling end over end, rocketing towards the batters box like gunshot.
The ball pierced the air and the next instant there was a satisfying, slightly muffled thwack. The sound of the ball hitting the catcher's mitt sent resounding cheers through the stands and a wave of relief through his own body. One down, he knew his own pitches well enough to know the trajectory of that one was clean.
"Strike!" The Umpire called, confirming what he already knew. The crowd cheered along with the call. His first strike in the major leagues, a good omen.
From his position behind home plate the catcher nodded to him and threw the ball back. Neji returned the look and snapped it out of the air before catching another look on Kisame's nearly piscine visage. Not even a swing from the big blue ocean man then? Why…
The cheers from the Chiba crowd in the stands, and their sudden chanting soon provided him with the answer.
A sly, curl lipped snarl appeared on Kisames face. Neji narrowed his eyes at the look. It was one thing not to swing at a first pitch to size the pitcher up. It was quite another as to do it as a concession. The snarl curled upwards into a cocky looking smile. The lack of a swing had been his welcome present to the majors, and an acknowledgement that he wouldn't be getting another freebie like that ever again.
As Neji processed the look, his own gaze turning cold the catcher signaled him from behind the plate. Fastball, was the suggestion, low and inside, a sound enough tactic. So he wouldn't swing at the first one? Fine, he'd make him regret the gift.
The check on first, the windup, stance, power, focus, all his senses operating at peak capacity…he spied Kisame's look again, and for a hairs breadth of a second…no, no time to think. The ball spiraled out of his hands with instinctual practiced grace, spiraling fast and low precisely past the mid section of his thighs.
This time Kisame swung. In the good tenth of a second it took for the white blur to fire across home plate Neji could feel his heart skip a beat as the thick wooden bat whooshed dead on against the face of the ball only to catch the air. The swing was off, Kisame had missed…but only by the barest of margins.
"Strike," the second call from the umpire.
Neji felt his face grow hot as he realized how quickly his heart was beating, suddenly he felt like a greenhorn again, pitching in his first middle school game. There was adrenaline coursing through his system, and something else. As he turned the ball over and over in his hands he became aware of just how shaky they felt. He smacked the ball into his glove and ran his clammy palm down the side of his white uniform. That last pitch had been far too close to call. Fastball low and away...of course, following off the first fastball a computer, heck a monkey could've seen that one coming. So how did one follow that up…
The catcher caught his attention with a hand sign and Neji, desperate not to make even the slightest bit of eye contact with the slugger at home plate gratefully looked down at him for guidance. Once again, fastball, low and away. Neji paused, his brow furrowed and slowly he shook his head. His fastball wasn't going to cut it here, he wasn't…it wasn't sharp enough to get by someone of this caliber.
Sensing his hesitation the catcher reformed the signal a second time, an indication that this was the only course of action he thought could work.
Neji took his cap and ran his hand along the brim, a signal of his own. He could see the reluctance in the catcher's eyes. The man had been behind the plate the entire game and had already seen Kisame at bat twice. Statistically speaking he knew what was going to work and what wasn't. All the same the man sat back behind home plate and set up his glove, resigned expression on his face.
Neji took a deep breath as he lifted his glove up in front of his face to hide his expression. For so many years he'd dreamed of this moment, a major debut, this was his path to become somebody in Japan. Finally, leaving the…No, no why was he on about this now? Did he need another reason to be nervous? His breathing was already erratic, his hands even worse, and his heart was rattling around in his rib cage much harder than he'd care to admit. No, there could be no second thoughts. He absolutely could not fail here.
With one last check over his shoulder to first to keep the runner's river dancing feet from skipping he began the windup. Only, this time as his ball catapulted back it slid down the length of his fingers, lower, lower, lower until it had almost slipped from the digits entirely. When the arm fired forward the ball was released not from the tips of his fingers with the frightening speed and power of a fastball, but rather with a slower controlled focus.
No pitcher in any half decent league could survive with just one good kind of pitch. He knew it, Kisame knew it, his catcher knew it and this crowd certainly knew it. Throw a fastball long enough and soon any batter will be starting connecting. Rather pitching in the long haul becomes an art of fake outs, of mixing different pitches together to keep the batter guessing. Solid mechanical pitches can make one think that this is the style they're going to be facing. If they start snapping at these obvious balls a pitcher can gradually bait and lead them after deliberately bad pitches. The mind games begin here. Trying to predict what the pitcher will throw versus what pitcher thinks the batter will swing at.
A classic mind game? Following the fastball, when the batter is primed, his senses alert and ready to smash, with a wooden bat an object moving at a hundred miles an hour, a pitcher can often score a strike by throwing a changeup. The pitch looks like a fastball, it moves like one and it's thrown like one, the only difference being that it is far, far slower. Done correctly this can cause a batter who isn't ready for it to swing like he's trying to hit a fastball, in fact swinging far to early and missing the pitch completely.
…Of course, if the batter is expecting this, well broadly speaking you can smack the hide off of a slower moving ball a lot easier than a fast moving one.
CRACK
The sound of timber battering the leather bullet could be heard clear around the capacity crowd, and they responded in kind. In an instant the plodding pace of the game became electric, Kisame dropped his bat, the catcher peeled of his mask, Neji spun to watch the ball sail far down overhead to right field. Fans stood to their feet and began clambering as the ball went further, and further and further and exploded into screams as it disappeared into the stands.
Kisame and the other Chiba player rounded the bases to the sound of the uproar, ecstatic to suddenly be back in the game.
On the mound Neji hung his head, now little more than a cocktail of emotions broiling inside a white uniform as he played the pitch back inside his head. He'd been ready for it, Kisame had read him like a book and he'd been ready for it. What was worse is that the whole thing had most likely played out exactly like his opponent planned. Don't swing at the first one on purpose, swing at the second to make him nervous, then when he's on edge and you're inside his head he'll reach into his bag of tricks, and in this case of course the dumb as rocks rookie had pulled out the oldest trick in the book.
There's was nothing for it, nothing left to do, but stand there, cap brim tilted down, ignoring the roar of the Chiba visitors, and prepare for the next in the lineup. The look from his catcher was exasperated, but business like. No amount of disappointed looks were going to bring that ball back from the stands. Without so much as a glance he snapped the second hide thrown to him by the umpire and tossed it out to Neji holding two fingers up in the air. Two more runs, that's all he could afford to let out, after that it was all in Chiba's favor.
Neji took a deep breath as the 4th took up his position in front of home plate. For a second the southern chants, their rhythmic rhymes and drums growing louder pierced his silenced veil, just for a second, for the first time since high school the noise touched a nerve in his brain. He couldn't remember what pitch he threw in that moment. In retrospect, after Kisame's home run the entire game became a blur.
Thwack!
Only one thing stood out from the rest of the night. Hit after hit…
Thwack!
After hit. A hit follow by a double and a long hard drive out left to bring two more home.
Japanese crowds cheered when they liked something and were silent when they disapproved. By the time 8th in the lineup knocked one straight down the pipe between first and second one could've heard a pin drop amongst the Akita fans in the nosebleed seats, in fine contrast to the now fiery China crowd. That was the fans punishment inflicted on those who let them down. No boos, no groans, no chants, just silent seething disappointment.
As the hush fell over his crowd his mask began to crack, and with each hit his throws became sloppier and more unfocused. An unbeatable high school record, tutelage at one of Japan's best universities, a legacy inherited from his father, none of it could help him now.
Final score, 19-5, Mercy Rule invoked for the first time in Akita's history, game called in the 8th inning.
He sat in the locker room on those hard wooden benches long after closing, long after the crowds had drained from the stadium and even after the players had filed out. His head fell back against the wall, eyes on the ceiling, their expression vacant. His head felt cold on the concrete, made all the worse by his still damp hair. He'd practically bunkered himself in the shower, letting a torrent of hot water steam over him, like he was trying to iron the night's events from his skull.
That had been a disaster, a complete and unmitigated disaster. The longer he thought about it the worse it became in his head, and yet as bad as that was he was still pretty sure it must've looked worse to everyone else. So much for beginners luck. No sane team would touch him with a ten foot pole now. He probably had his release email sitting in his inbox right now.
He pawed clumsily across the bench beside him until his hand clasped around his phone. The screen came to life in his messages, displaying the last thing he'd had opened, an old college photo of him and the best slugger of his year who'd be almost unrecognizable without his green track suit if it weren't for his soup bowl haircut. The message "welcome to the majors, see you soon." typed beneath the photo and dated at about four hours ago.
He exited the messages app and checked his inbox once more…nothing. No messages, no calls, no texts. The click of the power button seemed to be the loudest noise in the entire stadium. The light from the screen vanished, the blackness closed in around him and once again he began to feel very much alone. Just him, the darkened locker room and the steady drip, drip, dripping from the shower faucets next door.
A steady set of footsteps dropped into the room. If he could've been bothered to look up at that moment he would've been greeted by the mustachioed face of the Cranes head coach, quite possibly the last man Neji would've wanted to lock eyes with at the moment. He instead kept his gaze locked on the ceiling, ruminating on nothing and everything.
"Neji," the man spoke.
"How'd Mr. Yakushi take it?" he spoke up, preferring to skip straight to the point.
"Better than I would've expected. Just laughed and said that these things happen. Your nerves just got the better of you, could've happened to anyone, and we all understand that…" he trailed off, the tone of an old man who had seen everything still readily detectible in his gravely timbre. The coach let the words hang in the air just long enough to let Neji know that a 'but' was coming. The inevitable addendum, the final blow to any chance he had of having a career until all of this all settled down. This had been a trial run thanks to the good graces of the Red Cranes owner, and the Red Cranes certainly didn't want him back. No one would want him after what happened tonight. Not even the farm leagues would be caught dead signing him after blowing the game the way he had. Run after run after run, the record would be on the sports news tonight and the video was doubtless making its way around the net even as he spoke. He would be lucky to get a job tutoring pitchers in the Netherlands now. End of the line.
"I understand," Neji returned, summing up his deductions with two words. He stood to his feet for the first time in what felt like hours, calves bitterly fighting the new change and wrist shooting pain up his arm. His wet hair stuck to the back of his neck as he bowed as deeply and far forward as his exhausted form would allow. "Thank you for this opportunity Mr. Mifune."
"Take care of yourself kid," and just like that he was gone, closing the door on his professional career.
Neji let himself drop back down onto the bench and put his head into his hands. He moved the tips of his fingers over his closed eyelids trying to forget about everything...the soreness in his wrists and back, the aching in his legs, that sea sickness like sensation in his gut…yeah everything. His hands clasped around his phone once again. He was going to make himself ill if he let this drag on.
He hit the speed dial number near the top of his contacts list. His agent. He doubted even a man of his talents could scrounge up something professional, but there had to be something out there, anything. With his resume he'd get something, it may not be respectable, it may not be a high paying gig, but he needed something, something that preferably took him very, very far from Akita. Whatever it was he'd take it.
It all flashed before his eyes in mere moments. Not long after his agent had shopped his CV around he'd gotten a call about his new position, his agent reading the instructions about taking the first opportunity that presented itself literally. One call back home to his younger cousin to pack him a bag, one plane ticket purchase and he was on a flight out via Tokyo to Seoul to Vancouver to De Moines.
Three gentle knocks at the bulky wooden door of his new room brought an end to the reminiscing on that living hell. He silver tinted eyes dropped to focus back on what should've been his humdrum new reality. He glanced over at the clock. 9:00 A.M, long, long past when he should've been expected to be out and about, especially considering his new career.
"Mr. Hyuga?" the voice outside his door sounded a little too preppy for nine, but it was sweet and polite all the same.
"One moment please!"
"It's ok, just making sure you were still breathing!"
He reached for his clothes and grit his teeth as it felt like every last bone in his spine was cackling as he tore himself from bed. No time to feel sorry for himself. New job, new responsibilities, time to start the day.
The tufts of the carpet enjoyed the grooves in between his toes as he exited the bathroom and pattered across the second floor of his host's house. He rubbed the last sleep from his eyes and slipped on one of the t-shirts his cousin had thrown into a bag for him. He paused, glancing down and stretching the fabric to get a better look at it, before discovering to his disgruntlement that it was the logo of the Bullet Club staring back at him. Hanabi had given it to him some 6 years ago after winning it in a fan promotion, which of course meant that it was now about a size too small for him. Probably not the best shirt to make a first impression with, he pondered at the edge of the houses flight of stairs. Then again that's what he got for letting Hanabi do his packing for him. Heck, this was what he got for taking the first opportunity that reared its head at him. This was what he got for…
He paused as he let the thought drag on. The memories dogged him from the moment he woke up, and apparently not even a skip across the ocean could rid them from his mind.
Oh well, no reason to torture himself by reliving it again...also no time to relive it again. He just hoped the shirt wasn't seen as unprofessional, or worse, as a political statement. He certainly didn't have the knowledge to explain the intricacies of NJPW.
He descended the steps with a face of perfect normality and walked into the spacious dining room where a long golden head of hair dashed back in forth, phone in one hand, pan in the other. Books and papers could be seen stacked high on the living room table and kitchen island next to lunch pails and freshly laundered sheets. As soon as she set the pan down she instinctively turned on the spotless brown linoleum flooring that was fitted throughout the ground level, and flowed back towards the kitchen cupboards to collect plates with speed that indicated she was on a crusade to single-handedly overturn the Second Law of Thermodynamics.
"Welcome back to the land of living!" she chirped, alerted to his presence by the squeaky bottom stair step. With a one second cheery smile in his direction she pivoted and pulled out a stool to the kitchen counter with a free foot before spinning back to her tasks just as easily. "Sorry, to hear. Take the day off I'll open up the school myself. It's just the teachers meeting today anyways. Yep, take care and tell her I hope she's feeling better soon."
Neji had to admit he was struck by her flurry of activity. She vaguely reminded him of Lee back home; like a hurricane, constantly moving, always doing something, A billowing wave of bundled nerves and determination, preparing for the week ahead, and meanwhile here he was looking like he'd just stepped off the plane last night…and sure that was exactly the case but he certainly wasn't going to use that as an excuse.
"Apologies about the late start," he began, suddenly very self-conscious about his English. It wasn't bad, but he was wary of just how far secondary language classes and what he'd picked up from his box set of Twin Peaks could take him. Yet, if there was anything amiss with his pronunciation the woman didn't seem to pick up on it.
"It's your first day, don't worry about it," she said with a smile and another spin, placing the sunny side eggs, already salted and seasoned onto a platter and setting it down on the red counter place mats with a beaming face.
All the activity, he had to admit was a little much to take in.
"Thank you Ms. Yamanaka," he said quickly, pulling himself up to the table and taking the fork placed beside his plate.
"Hey now, no need to be so formal," she returned with a wave of her hand. "I mean just because I'm your boss, landlord, translator if need be and teaching instructor doesn't mean we need to stand on ceremony here."
Neji got the distinct feeling that he was being messed with.
"Please just call me Ino," she finished, face beaming, hair and features glowing the same color as the sun and harvest outside. "Pleasure to finally make your acquaintance."
Well no way he could keep up with this. She might as well have been chipperness personified while his brain was still back in Japan, being dragged kicking and screaming into the American Central time zone. Once again, it reminded him a little too much of rooming with Lee.
"You as well," he managed to choke out in greeting. It was his best attempt at polite distinguished conversation while the unfamiliar smell of American grease and meat on the blue and white plate before him lit up the chemical receptors in his brain like a pinball machine. Food!
He recognized the eggs, sunny side up with delicate yellow yolk centers being delicately prodded by the corners of the flakey wheat toast, its crumbly surface dusted a perfect light brown. Further down the plate were a collection of healthy looking sausage links pooling in their own juices which ran into piles of potato strips and two buttered biscuits covered with a thick grey gravy that looked like one of the least appetizing things Neji had ever seen in his life, but which was now causing his stomach to practically plead with him to begin ingesting.
His hand seemed to act of it's own will as it tapped the fork against the food before his brain could stop it. Ino just smiled and laughed again, as was seemingly becoming her M.O.
"Well I'm not that much of a cook, but it'll lubricate your chassis that's for sure."
He had absolutely no idea what that meant, and lacked the social cues to decipher to correct answer to it. She seemed overtly cheery, almost comically so, like a figure from a sitcom. Still, smiles and sunny demeanors rarely seemed to be bad signals and he took both as a go ahead, digging into the meal without any further complaint. He felt as though his temperamental stomach might rebel from the rich taste as it went down, it was a far cry from his usual breakfast of choice. Yet, as a guest in her home, now thousands of miles away from his old personal trainer, he discovered that he really didn't care.
"I'll take this as a positive sign," Ino smiled despite the near complete vanishing of manners in Neji's attempts to inhale the meal in front of him. Jetlag did weird things to the mind and body after all. Still, there had to be a rub. "So, now that I've indulged your appetite care to indulge my curiosity as to why Mr. Baseball chose to take a job in humble little Sofia, population 1,017?"
Curses, lured in with food and nailed to the counter just long enough to get the usual interrogation. The trap wasn't enough to incentivize him to stop eating, but he did at least swallow and dab the corners of his mouth with the white kitchen napkin before replying, energy finally returning to his system.
"I suppose I should've expected this," he said, compliance now in his voice as he looked to stall for time. "Especially after the ride in last night."
As if her facial features were tied to a switch Ino's demeanor instantly changed. Her features turned inward, serious and alarmed both at once, head and body suddenly tilted forward, her light Hollywood blue eyes bored into him as if her gaze could snatch information from his soul.
Her voice to, when she spoke sounded like it was coming from a completely different person. The new tone was commanding and chilled cold, a combination that could make anyone suddenly feel very small under her piercing gaze.
"What did she do?" came the voice, punctuating each word for emphasis.
Memories from last night bubbled once again the surface of his consciousness, this time forced into existence by his boss's icy insistence. Flashes, bits and pieces, snippets of conversation, blips on the plane of his mind piecing together the story that was the three hour trip in from the De Moinse International Airport. Something had indeed transpired between him and his driver last night…something…something, oh come on it was on the tip of his mind.
A half dead figure emerging from baggage claim 7, hair a greasy mess, his name emblazoned in lime green onto the back of an Iowa atlas roughly the size of the windshield of the truck his chauffer had stuffed both him and his bags into. A whirl of brown hair, buns, a dash of blue and white, cheese curds? Baseball talk. So much baseball talk. Loud, posturing, analysis based on conjecture, half truth, and almost but not quite lies. Empty, hollow, belligerent grandstanding…pulling through a cornfield at midnight…oh and that's where he'd first seen the cows, now it made sense.
"What," Ino asked, now a whole lot closer to Neji's face then he remembered. "Did she do?"
"Nothing!" he lied through his teeth.
"It's Tenten, she must have done something." The cadence was still slow and steady, with an artic chill to it all.
"She picked me up, and we talked baseball the entire way back. That's all," he returned, arms up, fork still in hand. Neji was surprised at his own level of discretion, especially considering everything he and his driver had been through the night before. Still, he hadn't been in the country more than 24 hours, and he was in the middle of perhaps his 10th or 11th sentence with his new boss, it wasn't exactly his job to go throwing people under the bus.
Ino Yamanaka as an individual seemed difficult to pin down. For all he knew she could be a highly vindictive taskmaster, a boss with a temper and tunnel vision demanding things be done her way or not at all. If this was the new work environment he was to work in so be it, at least it wasn't Akita, but he wasn't going to drag anyone down with him.
"Nothing else happened, she was perfectly civil."
"Perfectly civil," Ino parroted, drawling the words out and putting large air quotes around them. "Uh huh, right."
To his relief Ino just sighed, looking tired more than angry or upset. She leaned herself back up against the refrigerator and crossed her arms in thought.
"That girl is a handful."
"How do you know her?"
"Oh she didn't tell you? She's our wood shop teacher," Ino sighed, dropping the admission with just enough reluctance to make Neji nervous about just what his driver last night had truly been capable of. "You'll get to know her better soon enough."
"Can't wait,"
"If it makes it any better she was the last one of us to get her drivers license, she failed the test twice."
Why would that make him feel any better? If anything it just confirmed the fact that he had indeed been in the truck with a complete psychopath last night.
"Interesting hiring policy," he jibed, hoping that it would be taken as such. "Do you make a habit of letting the foreign teachers board with you and hiring the completely insane?"
Ino's subsequent laugh, told him he'd been right on the money.
"Well first of all real estate if sparse around here, and my family has always been the ones to help with the out-of-towners who need boarding. Used to be a bed and breakfast and all that jazz." She sighed at the memory, goofy smile on her face before she snapped her fingers and pointed an accusatory one at him. "Secondly, you were no administrative breeze to hire either. Finally, yes, Tenten is high strung, but she's more of an involuntary manslaughter than a first degree murder kind of character. She means well, despite everything else."
"You're a tight knit bunch I take it?"
"Since childhood. We have to be by necessity. Around these parts everyone knows everyone else's business and all that malarkey. It's nice though; life's quiet and collected. When I was a girl I used to wander down to the intersection half a mile from here and just stand there, on the blacktop under the sun, nothing but the wind in my hair, whistling in my ears and flaxen fields in all four directions as far as the eye could see." He could see from her eyes that he wasn't the only one getting lost in his own memories. A pleasant silence overtook them, different from the one's he'd grown used to basking in, and though he wouldn't admit it even to himself just being in the presence of someone else and having a chat put him at much greater ease. Ino soon noticed the silence and looked back over at him with her smile turned back on. "A little different from what you're used to in Japan I'm sure, don't worry if you go crazy mid way through the semester I'm sure we can get you to De Moines to blow off some of that steam."
His stoic expression allowed for a raised eyebrow. It seemed to get his message across perfectly fine.
"Doesn't have to be Tenten this time. I'm sure I can coax Kiba or Sakura into taking you there." Ino laughed again, but cut it short, the gears in her head surely calculating the exact form of torture she was going to inflict on the woman when she got her hands on her for just whatever activities had transpired the night before.
Neji barely registered the sudden switch. His head tilted sideways instead at the new names Ino had mentioned, processing their pronunciation.
"Well that can't be a coincidence."
"Hmm?"
"These are all Japanese names, like real Japanese names."
Ino brightened up a bit at the mention of that, as if she already had the story for that one memorized. She cocked her head towards a clear glass case, it's shelves lined with porcelain figures, dolls, antiques and photographs. In each one of the photos stood distinctly foreign looking individuals in old grainy black and white pictures that gradually became clearer and finer as they passed through the ages, the last one wresting on a polite little girl with familiar blonde hair standing on a very familiar looking green porch.
"Way back in the day there were a number of families that landed at Angel Island in California and just kept heading east. Walking until they couldn't walk anymore as my grandmother told it. So by the time of my grandparents we already made up like half the population."
"And everyone else was just cool with that?" Neji asked, eyebrow still hovering with some skepticism.
"Can't say, we've just always been here, and that's about all anyone else around here can tell you. Funny how these things work. We're all the way into the 7th generation in the state now and as far back as I can remember this has been my home, my families home."
There was another mooing by the kitchen window causing Ino's wistful expression to once again switch into annoyance. She flipped towards the window and yanked it open.
"Maybe there was some conflict way back when, during the internment period of the Second Great War. From what I hear though the feds showed up, took a look around and just kept on moving thinking the reports were overblown." She explained briefly with something of a huffy tone that quickly flowed into brash and demanding as her attention shifted. "Go on! Get! This isn't your yard!"
"So that was it, the biggest concentration of Japanese in the state and they did nothing?" Neji asked again, still curious.
"Well I mean they arrested several Uchihas, but that wasn't because of internment, it's more because they're all no good, overly critical HILBILLIES WHO CAN'T KEEP THEIR COWS IN!"
Ino belted the last part of the sentence out across the street at an undistinguished looking black haired man standing next to his houses hot pink mailbox as he guided his bovines back across the lonely blacktop road. He flipped her what Neji could only assume was an obscene hand gesture in this corner of the world and went back to focusing on his cows.
"My best friends husband," Ino explained cheerily, head popping back in and closing the kitchen window with a slam. "Nice guy, as moody as a 12 year old though."
She paused, face all askew as if she'd forgotten something incredibly important. She quickly yanked the window open and yelled back out across the street.
"Saskue!" the brooding dark haired farmer barely acknowledged the caterwauling, choosing instead to block the path of one of his more adventurous calves who seemed to think that going back towards the Yamanaka field was a fun idea. Ino, apparently having enough skill in reading the most minute changes in his body language continued all the same. "Where'd your wife get to?"
"She's took off for the teachers meeting," Saskue replied as if Ino was an afterthought, his focus almost completely on the cattle. Even as he blocked the path of the young one in front of him he seemed able to maintain the most casual tone imaginable. "Just as you need to Ms. Principle."
"Oh crap," Ino practically flew back, slamming the window behind her as the tornado of activity emerged again, whirling around the room and compiling all her necessary essentials into her bag without another word. She ran down her mental list of items and checked it twice as she started fitting herself with a pair of sneakers. Briefly, as she hocked the back of her left shoe over her ankle she looked back at him and apologized. "Sorry I gotta run! Teachers meeting!"
"I can get my things and be right with you," he said, dropping his fork and heading for the stairs. To his surprise she waved him off, picked up her bag, lunch and clutched the door handle with the gap between her arm.
"No that's ok, it's not essential. You stay here and rest up. We can sort all your stuff out tomorrow coach!"
And with that she was gone and he was left all alone with his breakfast, the antiques, the Midwestern symphony still playing outdoors...
Moooo
And the cows. What a welcome.
"Hail the conquering hero!"
From outside the entrance to Sofia Central, the school colors of green and white marked over every spare inch of space two particular teachers chorused their song as soon as they saw Ino's truck pull up the entrance and drive past their little group.
The teachers, still waiting for the principle, who at the moment had the only keys to let them into the building had congregated under the small mass of crab apple trees that were planted up and down the path near the school entrance to protect them from the rapidly glowering Iowa sun. Naruto and Kiba stood and pumped their arms like they were at an Iowa state game as Ino gave them a look from her truck. The two took it in stride breaking into another chorus while their co-workers, a group made up of mostly twenty something's hardly paid them any mind.
"Hey it's about time chief, whatsa matter did you two get into a discussion about very professional business like behavior?" Kiba called after her, watching the car disappear into the back parking lots.
Ino grumbled to herself, now annoyed at their exuberance as she pulled her car into park, grabbing her bag, clambering out and slamming the door shut behind her as she fished the school door keys out. She muttered to herself under her breath cursing the teachers, school board, 200 yard walk to the doors and any other area she could think to direct her ire towards.
"Soooo," a familiar voice chimed in. From beside her Sakura appeared, box of bakery goods in hand and cheeky grin on her face. "The new guy apparently stole all that cheer and good will you had stored up for this year. Granted that probably couldn't have been very much."
"Hilarious," Ino said rolling her eyes, the smile still crept onto her face though. Sakura was always good at boosting her moods.
"For real, how is he?
"Ok so it's 8:30 right? And I know he got in late, but at this point I'm really wondering if I should just go up…"
And so it went, Ino speed reciting her story, collapsing the entire tale into the amount of time it took to walk the path to the school entrance. Sakura for her part never batted an eye, absorbing the entire thing with a patience and comprehension level that only those who'd worked with Ino for years could. She nodded and laughed at all the appropriate parts, letting her friend tell the story as it came to her until…
"Lubricate your chassis!" Sakura all but shouted, repeating what Ino had told her two second earlier. Ino rolled her eyes, wondering if she should've left that part out from the full explanation of that mornings events. What was she supposed to do though? Not walk her best friend and confidant through their entire conversation. Quickly she tried to explain, but it was far, far too late. Sakura was already on a roll. "Can we NOT hit on the foreign teacher for 5 minutes? Is that too much to ask?"
"That's not how I operate Sakura," Ino began, deciding to attempt and show a little bit more aplomb now that she actually was getting goofy looks from the other teachers. Unfortunately, that seemed to be precisely the wrong line to use with a girl she'd know since kindergarten.
"That's EXACTLY how you operate you conniving little…," Sakura began firing, images of their high school love lives fluttering through her mind, each and every one of them clear as a pool and ready to be used as ammunition. Ino sighed, cutting her off and fully prepared to change gears as she wrenched the right door key around the ring and slid it into the lock.
"I was being hospitable. It's the Midwest. I have to impress him with the food and the manners since the corn and your husbands cows are certainly not going to," Sakura rolled her eyes at this but stayed silent, accepting of that fact that she didn't have much of a comeback to that one. They were out in the middle of nowhere by anyone else's standards. Hearing no response Ino decided to press on, her voice now more than a little smug as she grabbed the doors by the handles. As she did so she looked around at the assembled staff, looking each one in the eye as she did so. "Listen, everything I do, I do for this school and for this town. There will be no amorous fraternization amongst co-workers."
"Lubricate your chassis?" Sakura repeated once again, voice dead and disbelieving like Ino had just told her the moon was made out of cheese, her eyebrow threatening to escape her prodigious forehead if she raised it any higher.
"Mmm, this has sexual imagery," Kiba agreed, suddenly appearing at Ino's side always eager to stir the pot.
"See this is why our visiting teachers never last," Tenten chimed in for the first time, continuing the prod Ino for all she was worth.
"Ok, you know what? You're all morons." Ino returned sourly yanking open the doors and Kiba and Tenten cackled behind her, exchanging high fives.
"Did you entice him with the Yamanaka secret family recipe for biscuits and gravy?" Naruto asked from behind her with an incredibly thick mock southern drawl to his voice.
"Moving on!" Ino commanded, leading the pack towards their lounge, pressing on ahead to relieve herself of the collective spoonful of brains her coworkers possessed. The collective snickering soon died down and the others quickly fell back into conversation with each other about whatever topics they'd been discussing before her arrival.
Ino allowed herself a quick glance over her shoulder at the group and smiled. She'd known every one of these people on a first name basis for as long as she could remember, everything from birthdays to dreams to hobbies. Yeah, eccentric was certainly a word she could use to describe them. They were certainly no less strange and quirky than they'd been back in high school.
Kiba suddenly snapped his fingers.
"Oh yeah, Tenten my cars doing that uhhh, thing again," Kiba said holding up his hands and making it swerve left and right like a salmon moving up river.
"Sounds like your struts again, I'll take a look at it after lunch if you want," the girl offered as she jogged over to her own classroom and tossed a bag of tools inside.
"You're the best."
"Don't I know it!"
"So Kauri, how was Omaha?"
"Oh, pleasant as always, and of course Choji dragged us to sample each of the famous brisket houses."
"What's your book about Shino? Bees?"
"The latest issue. I'm taking my honey into the state fair this year, and it pays dividends to keep abreast of the latest trends."
Yep, business as usual, and she wouldn't change a thing about it. She stopped at the entrance to the teachers lounge, turned once more to survey the crowd and began mentally adding up the figures. One…three…seven…
"Ok! Shut up!..." she commanded with a snap of her fingers. Instantly the chattering seemed to stop as all eyes turned forward, a particular talent of hers. "Who are we missing?"
"Spanish and Science." Sakura said instantly without even having to check.
"Oh doesn't that just figure. Well the old men both know how this works, they won't miss much." Ino grumbled unlocking the door and ushering the others inside with her miffed and annoyed expression the others were quite used to at this point.
"You mean I could've gotten out of this just by being old?" Naruto asked his fellow jokers as he crossed into the room.
A sense of familiarity fell upon everyone as soon as they crossed back into the teachers lounge, a surprisingly spacious area for a school as small as Sofia. Sakura set her package down by the sink and began brewing coffee while Naruto began picking through the doughnuts. Someone opened a window and looked admiringly out at the yellow fields in the distance while Tenten directed her attention to the freshly cut grass surrounding the baseball diamond and nodded satisfactorily while silently trying to divine just how visible the tire tracks she may or may not have made out just beyond right field were.
From the other corner of the room, covered under yesterday's newspaper was the snoring form of the superintendent left in what was probably the same position he'd been in when school let out last spring. The man had probably dropped in last evening while the groundskeepers were getting the school ready but Kiba proceeded to roll up one of his syllabi and poke the mass just to see if it was still alive anyways.
Well, now seemed like as good a time as any. Quickly Ino sprinted to the far corner of the room where a white board stood atop an elevation in the floor making for a barely distinguishable stage. She clapped her hands together and began the greetings until everyone else was paying attention.
"Ok everyone. Welcome back! Fall 2021, you all know how this works, schools are open and we've been re-certified by the state board. Hopefully we'll have no awful surprises or emergencies this time around and we can get by on a perfectly normal semester. I just need you all to get your rooms in order by the end of today and get your lesson plans in by the end of the week. I'll approve them along with the returning superintendent…Mr. Nara."
At this she motioned to the still sleeping figure. All eyes turned to the man who only snored in response as an awkward silence soon filled in the air.
"Get to the baseball!" one of the teachers yelled from her seat.
"Thank you Tenten." Ino drawled. The schools baseball program, doubtless the draw of the school and certainly a point of interest this particular year. "Yes, our baseball program is back in action this year, and we'll be running it like was always have, in conjunction with the northern Iowa high school baseball commission. We'll have the pre-season this fall to get our team assembled and trained before the actual season kicks off come spring."
"Yes!
"We also have a new head of the baseball program this year…"
"Boo!"
"He'll also be taking control of the head of the physical education classes." Ino continued without a breath that would allow for interruptions as she glared in the brown haired girls direction. "I met with him this morning and he seems like a very well mannered young man. He's also traveled a very long way to be here and we can all tell from his resume that he knows what he's doing. So let's all treat him cordially, give him the reigns of the program and give him the respect due to a professional Japanese baseball star….Tenten"
Here she firmly eyed the wood shop teacher, searching the woman's features for any sign of her trademark mischief, her brain still simmering with all the ideas of what she must've gotten up to last night. Tenten, their old high school slugger had been as keen as anyone to lead the program after the old head took a new position at Iowa state.
Her unimpressed look was making Tenten squirm under her gaze, a distinctly cross look appearing on the girls face. A subtle crossing of the arms, raising of one leg over the other, periodic flickering of the eyes to other corners of the room. Her posture was purely defensive and the look written across her face was obvious, guilt.
"Yeah…well…" Tenten tried, attempting to concoct some kind of phrasing to deflect the attention from her.
"I'm the principle and what I say goes." Ino commanded, leaving the stage, her own arms folded across her chest and careful killing gaze leveled at the woodshop teacher.
"No use arguing with the boss," Naruto confirmed, confectioneries in hand. "The king's might is greater than human and his arm is very long."
"It is in vain, sir, to extenuate the matter. The war is actually begun. Our brethren are already in the field! Why stand we here idle?" Kiba had discarded his shoes and stood atop his chair now, throwing his fists about like a firebrand preacher.
"Cause she cuts out paychecks?" Naruto offered after brief consideration.
"This is true." Kiba agreed.
Ino could sense all at once that she'd lost control of the meeting. If Naruto and Kiba were already off creating another one of their comedic skits then the others had assuredly already lost interest. True enough Sakura had struck up a conversation with Karui once again discussing brisket and barbeque in Nebraska, Shino's head remained firmly between the pages of "Beekeepers Monthly," and the snores of Shikamaru from the back were an indicator that the superintendent still actively preferred unconsciousness to talking to any one of them.
The back doors squeaked open revealing Mr. Hatake, showing up late and without explanation as usual. He made his was casually down the isle stopping to tip a brown paper bag of his own maple sugar covered doughnut holes at Kurenai as the two began to chat. Just like that the only one left with her attention was Tenten in the front row still seething about being passed over for promotion.
"Alright screw it," Ino groaned in defeat, foot slamming against the grey carpeted floor with more force than necessary. "Meeting adjourned go get your classrooms in order."
"Freedom!" Came the roar from atop their chairs as Naruto and Kiba broke out into a rousing round of Hail to the Chief.
Ino looked across the scene with her usual irked expression. Eyelids half closed, lips drawn all the way across her face, pursed into a straight line.
"Have I ever told you people that you're the reason I drink?" she asked in a baffled tone.
"Oh every day," Naruto replied, still in mock patriotic pose.
"Nonstop," Kiba nodded with a smile.
"Since 2015," Tenten added nonchalantly.
At this the other teachers began rising to their feet and heading for the door. With a collective laugh between them Naruto and Kiba dropped from their desks and followed them, trading one-liners with each other all the while.
"Except for you," Ino snipped as she saw Tenten head for the door. Her face fell, knowing that she wasn't fully out of the woods yet.
She looked down abashedly at Ino, the girl a good number of inches shorter in height and petite in frame. The dynamic had never been one that Tenten had gotten used to. Back in the day Tenten had a been in the year senior to Ino's and while this division had mattered less and less as the years went on Tenten found that it often set the tone for their business relationship.
The professional side to Ino could disappear at the drop of a hat when she got off work, but it didn't change the fact that Ino had always been the ambitious one, the go-getter. Ino was the kind of person who would look at weight classes for boxing and step into the heavyweight ring anyways; a boss who got things done. Unfortunately, this maxim applied to every single action under her control.
"Ooooh," Naruto chorused, peeking back through the doorway.
"Someone's in…" Kiba tried to follow up.
"Ok, ok, we've all had our daily dose of stupid. Go!" Ino snipped, pointing back out of the lounge to which both promptly complied.
"Hey boss, what's up?" Tenten began, trying to break the uneasy silence between them.
"Well it's about our new hire see?" Ino began, voice a little too cordial and polite for the kind of dressing down Tenten expected to soon receive. She'd have to play dumb if she wanted to get out of this one alive.
"O-oh…really?...I wouldn't know anything…bout that…"
Flawless.
"Tenten, what did you do last night?" Ino cut to the chase, barreling through the wall of diversion, denials and half hearted red hearings she already felt Tenten erecting. Her eyes, bored into her. Very clear and convincing notice that Ino Yamanaka was not prepared to take any of her bull hockey today.
Tenten thought back. What had she done last night? The memories, chip, chip, chipped their way to the surface of her mind, facts pieced themselves together. City limits, her car, corn fields, big city, bigger city, De Moines, a writhing breathing human mass, toll booths, paid parking, 5 dollar street hotdogs, greenbacks being siphoned from her wallet, confusion, airport terminals…one elegant Japanese pro-baseball played walking from the terminal with hair glossier than hers…
"That's…" Tenten took a deep breath. "A long story."