The day of the Oujou-Deimon practice match came crisp and cool. Kid found a poncho for Tetsuma and draped it over him, feeling a bit like he was decorating a Christmas tree as he reached up, all the way up, to do so.
"If Oujou were playing any other team, we'd go watch," he pointed out, not that Tetsuma was arguing with him at all, any more than a Christmas tree would. "They say Shin is back, and we were straight-out told to beat Oujou, so it only makes sense to scout." Kid considered the way he had the poncho arranged, one edge over the other, then changed his mind and reversed them. "Ah, I don't see how this will end well."
Instead of responding, Tetsuma merely rested his hand on the front of the poncho, pinning it exactly in place as Kid had folded it.
"Yeah," Kid sighed, "I suppose it's good enough."
By the time they rounded up the rest of the team and made it to the stadium, the match was minutes from starting, but the seats were barely half full. Considering Oujou was on the decline, though, and Deimon hadn't made much of a name for itself with its ragtag team, it was hardly a bad turnout, especially for a last-minute practice match with no real stakes. If Oujou's new coach was good at anything, it was monetizing his assets.
Kid had been somewhat reluctant to shell out said money to reserve a section of seats for the Seibu players, not so much because it wasn't his money, but because he'd surely be held accountable for it in front of Hiruma. But Hiruma had been the one to start it up with the football in the first place. He'd list it as "training" on the financial report, and see if Hiruma noticed or cared. Maybe "research".
As they approached their section, he noticed that one of the seats at the front was already taken, by a slight young man in a parka, slouched way down into the seat, legs propped up on the railing in front of him.
Kid checked his tickets, then the seat again. Yep, seat number 117, the ticket with his own name on it, not anyone else on the team. No such thing as a coincidence, especially when the interloper was sporting a cowboy hat very much like his own.
"Excuse me," Kid tried to keep the touch of irony out of his voice. "Seems you're in my seat."
"I couldn't let you keep ignoring my calls." The young man looked up, and then gave his hat a gratuitous tip. "Am I wearing this right?"
Calls? Kid wondered. Then the hat came off, and he realized, "You're Kaitani Riku."
"I'm your new running back," Riku corrected, with an impish smile. "If you'll have me."
Kid blew out a long breath, already feeling a deep foreboding about this whole affair. "Why don't you all sit," he told the rest of the team, "Riku and I will... go talk this over." He turned to find somewhere more private, but although Riku put his feet down and sat up, he didn't stand.
"Seibu is the best team in the area," he said, with an expression so suddenly earnest it made Kid wonder if the hat was really meant to mock him after all. "And you're the best quarterback there is, everyone knows it."
"Whoa, let's not get carried away here..."
"They told me my skills could take me anywhere, so I did my research. I want to play on your team," Riku insisted. "Did you watch my demo video yet?"
Instead of answering, Kid turned toward the railing and leaned heavily against it. It felt like ice even through his coat, and the sensation grounded him. Below, he could see the Deimon players running around in their uniforms, either warming up, or running in terror from their captain, or both. By his count, they didn't even have a full roster down there, much less alternates for their bench, and had pulled in a couple subs from the general pool. On impulse, he asked, "How would you feel about playing for Deimon?"
If Hiruma hadn't had the idea yet to raid Seibu for more players, Kid didn't see what there was to stop him. Yes, he'd watched Riku's demo. A talent like that, there was no reason Hiruma wouldn't snatch him right up, before they could even have a uniform made. As far as he knew, Deimon was short a runner, and Riku would more than fit the bill.
"Deimon?" Riku leaned forward to look over the railing with him, and seemed to lock in on the same figure. "Under Hiruma? No way, Mamori would kill me! Look, I decided on your team. Now can I sign on with you, or do I have to serenade you at your window?"
"Match is starting," replied Kid, busying himself with turning on his video camera, double-checking the battery. "Let's talk after. Nothing good ever comes of rushing into things."
The two quarterbacks were gathering for the coin toss, and Kid focused the lens on their faces. It wasn't part of the game, but it also wasn't as though he were limited by film, not in this digital age. Even from here, it was obvious Hiruma was in top form, taunting Takami about something or the other, with a fiendish grin visible for miles. Takami, to his credit, took it in stride.
Kid had been on the receiving end of Hiruma's mind games before, but he watched with special interest today. It always paid to understand his opponents, but when it came to the man who now owned him, quite literally, in the eyes of the law, it was no longer a matter of football, but survival. The sooner he got that through his head, the safer he, his team, and all his people would be.
The game started with a bang. True to the rumors, Shin was back in jersey #40, and Oujou's defense looked all the more solid for it. From the start, he seemed to be heavily marking a #21 on the Deimon team. Twice, #21 ran. Twice, Shin flew towards him, bearing down on the smaller player as if drawn by a magnet. And twice, before he could be speared or tackled, #21 stopped and revealed empty hands.
Hiruma had picked up a receiver somewhere, #80, and both of those plays ended up passes to him. The first time, the receiver managed to shake Oujou's cornerback, Iguchi in jersey #25, and get to the right place at the right time. The second time, Iguchi blocked him. On the third play, Hiruma was sacked before #80 could get into position. And when he got up for the next play, Hiruma unbelievably passed yet again to the same receiver, even though he was neck and neck with Iguchi. On the camera screen, Kid watched as #25 got a finger on the ball, only to have #80 grab it from him bodily. As they reassembled, Iguchi looked visibly shaken, while Deimon's #80 seemed to be drinking up the cheers from the crowd like a thirsty plant.
"Hiruma's going to have trouble if he always makes the same play," Kid said idly, mostly just to see Tetsuma's reaction. There wasn't much of one, just the slightest degree of a forward lean, that showed Kid what he already knew: Tetsuma wanted to see that catch again. Smiling to himself, Kid rested the camera in his lap while the teams huddled up, so he could make doubly sure he had steady hands to record the next one.
As if in answer to Tetsuma's unspoken wish, Hiruma yelled from within the huddle, "You're up again, fucking monkey!" loud enough that even Kid could hear it, so the Oujou team certainly did. "That fucking kappa is good as dead."
If it were Kid, he would have ignored Hiruma's words and put more defense on #80 this time, but the Oujou coach seemed convinced it was a bluff to be called. Who would make the same play four times in a row? Again, only #25 marked #80, and again, the long pass. Iguchi was faster than #80, Kid could see that, and got to the ball first... reached... fumbled for the first time Kid could remember... and Deimon's receiver lunged forward to snatch it right out of his hands.
As the ref lifted his arms for the touchdown, and #80 imitated him, ball still clutched in hand, #25 left the field to receive a royal chewing out from the coach. It was the fastest touchdown against Oujou in recent memory, and Kid could hear mutters around him about "the fallen kingdom", but in his mind, it was still too early to tell.
Hiruma went for the kick, but missed by a long shot. Kid could've sworn Deimon had a kicker at some point, with a real powerful leg to him, but there was no sign of him today.
While the teams switched sides, he spotted Oujou's #25 taking off his helmet, then his jersey, then his shoulder pads. As he began to unlace his pants, Kid swung his camera wildly away, disgusted. Once #25 was down to nothing but his jockstrap and cleats, the autumn air freezing the sweat on his bare skin, he began to jog around the outer loop of the stadium, all but naked, in full view of the audience, breath coming out in visible puffs in the cold.
Kid had seen punishments like this before, of course, but he'd never given much thought to them, except to think how wasteful and ineffective it all seemed, and how he would never do it to his own team, slaves though they were. Now a slave himself, it gave him special pause: not just the pointless humiliation of it, but how resigned the cornerback was to this treatment, like it was almost a given outcome for his actions.
"No wonder Oujou is going down the drain," said Riku beside him, sourly.
"Looking down on others never ends well," Kid said, with particular feeling, as he carefully moved his camera to keep #25 off-screen. "You never know when you'll end up in their shoes."