Part One
Chapter Six
Being ordinary is harder than ordinary people make it seem. Not only are ordinary people oblivious to people's real feelings, they have to rely on their ordinary strength to do things. This wouldn't be bad for me—all I ever wanted was to be ordinary—except for one thing: how ordinary is my new ordinary?
Physical Fitness Test
The problem with the Physical Fitness Test was that Kusuo was legitimately curious about what he could do. He was also really worried about it. Obviously, his test results wouldn't be as off-mark as they always were when he had to worry about regulating his powers, but what was he supposed to do when he no longer needed to regulate his powers? Should he go all-out, or was that still too much? It was no longer imperative that he not draw attention now that he had nothing to hide, but he still liked his privacy and suddenly becoming as good as (or worse, better than) Hairo would draw enough attention that he would spend the rest of his high school tenure without a moment's peace.
Not happening. Not a chance.
Which is why Kusuo dropped the training bug in Hairo's ear the weekend before the school-wide test and didn't protest (too much) when Kuboyasu, Kaidoh, and Nendou tagged along. If anything, that was better as it gave Kusuo a decent range with which to measure himself. Sort of. Nendou, Kuboyasu, and Hairo were all fairly O.P. when it came to physical prowess while Kaidoh…
Yeah. Let's not reflect on the 'sealed talents' of the 'Jet-Black Wings.'
Currently, Kuboyasu and Hairo were marking out a ball-throw pit with Kaidoh tasked with chalking side-step boxes onto the cracked concrete of the abandoned warehouse parking lot they were using as their training ground, courtesy of the Jet-Black Wings. Nendou, as expected, was useless. The moment Hairo produced the rubber balls being used for the ball throw, Nendou appropriated them and shoved them up his shirt just as he'd done during every Physical Fitness Test for the last six years. This had the negative effect of bringing Nendou's mom to Kusuo's mind just as it had for five of those six years. Kusuo momentarily reminisced on that first year of second year when he hadn't yet met the Nendou matriarch and so had no point of reference for a female Nendou.
Simpler times...
Surprisingly, Kusuo didn't miss his solitude as much as he thought he would. On the few days he found himself alone, the silence trailing behind him was unnerving, and he had to resist the urge to look over his shoulder to see if anyone was there while knowing they weren't. At least if Nendou and Kaidoh were arguing three steps behind him, he didn't have to wonder if someone was or wasn't there.
"All right," Kuboyasu said, snapping his measuring tape closed with a dark smirk. "We're all done over here."
Fix your face, you Yankee.
"Yoshaaa!" Hairo threw both fists in the air, his pupils on fire. "Let's get this party started!"
Why are you getting so into it?
"We should let Shun go first to establish a baseline," Kuboyasu said, whipping out a notebook and pencil from nowhere. "Then Nendou can go. Ideally, Saiki, your numbers should fall comfortably in the middle."
"Don't settle for comfortable! We're here to challenge you, to find your limits and break through them! Never give up! Never surrender!"
Yare, yare.
After a few more minutes of unnecessary chaos, Kaidoh managed to get Nendou's right boob in both hands—that sounds way, way worse than I meant it too—and took his place at the head of the ball throw pit.
"Hah! Just watch and learn; this test will be nothing to the Jet-Black Wings." Kaidoh held the ball up with his right hand with his left splayed across the half of his face that wasn't shielded by his ice-blue hair and, as usual, a phantom burst of epic theme music seemed to follow him.
How old are you?
Kaidoh chuckled and wound up, glancing at Kusuo with his single, visible eye. "Best step back, Saiki, or the wind strength alone will blow you away."
Seriously?
"Hwoo!" Kaidoh chucked the ball in a way that arched upward more than it flew forward. Kusuo, Nendou, Kuboyasu, and Hairo all followed its movement as it went up and up and up before coming back down with a gentle poof. Kuboyasu drew out his measuring tape.
"7.1 meters."
Kaidoh huddled himself against the corner of the abandoned building, obviously dejected. Hairo, being Hairo, couldn't just leave him like that and hurried over, waving his hands placatingly.
"Hey, now, Kaidoh, don't be like that. You threw half-a-meter better than you did last year, and a whole meter more than at the beginning of second year. You've really improved, you know?"
Kaidoh sniffled and looked over his shoulder with teary, miserable eyes. He looked like the chipmunk Aiura said his aura implied. Hairo sweat-dropped and patted the top of Kaidoh's head with a hesitant, "There, there."
"So does that mean it's my turn?" Nendou stepped up, tossing the ball he'd recovered from the pit between both hands. "All right, then."
Nendou drew back, his muscles bulging with a mighty wind up, and threw. The ball rocketed up and forward before hitting the pavement with a hard thump and bouncing away into the scraggly brush lining the parking lot.
"Oops, sorry guys. That's my bad." Nendou raised a hand and jogged toward the edge of the parking lot. "I'll go grab it real quick. Be right back!"
Kuboyasu drew out the measuring tape, his glasses glinting as he diligently marked the scuff left behind by the well-worn ball. "52.6 meters."
Hairo spun around, fist clenched and fire burning in his eyes. "I knew it. Nendou, even after all this time, you're still my number one rival."
Give me a break.
"Here you go, buddy!" Nendou chucked the ball mid-jog, and Kusuo's hands came up on their own to snag it just before it slammed into his chest. His palms stung from the impact, and looking at one, he realized it was red.
Huh. Interesting.
"All right, Saiki." Kuboyasu looked up from where he was marking Nendou's score on the record sheet. Thanks to the late afternoon sun, only one of his lenses was clear while the other reflected white. "Now's the moment of truth."
"You've got this, Saiki!" Hairo gave Kusuo a thumbs up and a wink. "I believe in you!"
Instantly recovered, Kaidoh clapped a palm on Kusuo's shoulder and fisted his left hand with a firm glint in his visible eye. "Don't lose, Saiki! The world is depending on you!"
Yare, yare.
Taking half a step back, Kusuo wound up, raised his leading leg for momentum, and threw with all his might. Kuboyasu's measuring tape was out before the ball had fully landed. He stretched it across the chalked-out pit before scribbling on his sheet with incoherent mumbles. How far was that? Definitely further than Kaidoh, but how close did he get to Nendou? Apparently, Kaidoh and Hairo were even more curious than Kusuo as they'd appeared behind Kuboyasu's shoulders so fast it seemed like they'd teleported.
"Well?" Hairo had one hand on his knee while he wiped sweat from his chin with the back of the other. Why are you sweating so much? You haven't done anything! "What was it?"
"What was it?" Kuboyasu's Yankee expression half-took over his face as he met Hairo's gaze over his shoulder. "It's amazing; that's what!"
Kuboyasu tilted the notebook to give the other boys a glimpse. Both Hairo and Kaidoh's jaws dropped. "48.2 meters?!"
Kusuo's jaw dropped. "Seriously?"
Kuboyasu nodded. "Seriously. And what's more amazing than that?" He pointed at Kusuo with the eraser end of his pencil. "You threw left-handed, Saiki, but aren't you a righty?"
Staring down at his still reddened palms, Kusuo tried to gain control of his whirling thoughts. Sure, 48 meters was nothing compared to what he'd been able to do with his powers, but it was pretty obvious that someone with Kusuo's build shouldn't be able to generate that kind of distance. Especially with his non-dominant hand.
So much for not standing out.
Kusuo clenched his fists with a relieved huff. Good thing they'd decided to practice today. If this was the real deal, he'd never live it down.
"Here, Saiki." The ball appeared at eye-level, balanced atop Hairo's palm as he stared at Kusuo with a surprising level of seriousness. Out of everyone, Kusuo had expected Hairo to be over the moon with joyful enthusiasm over finding yet another rival to challenge him as he continued his rise through the ranks of Japanese athletics. Instead, Hairo looked concerned as he reached out for Kusuo's hand when he didn't move to take the ball. Grasping Kusuo's wrist, Hairo turned his right palm face up before pressing the ball into it.
"We've come this far, Saiki. It wouldn't be right to stop halfway."
For the first time in his entire life, Kusuo had nothing snarky to tag on. Instead, he clasped the ball with both hands and gave Hairo a nod that his enthusiastic friend returned before stepping back. The air was dense with tension as Kusuo took his mark—his left-foot forward this time—and set himself up for the throw.
Five sets of eyes watched the white sphere streak through the sky, and as before, Kuboyasu was already prepared when it landed. He lay the bright yellow line of his measuring tape against the dingy, cracked concrete right where the ball struck the ground. No one else moved; no one spoke. Not even Nendou.
Kuboyasu looked up; his brow furrowed and lips pursed into a tight, pasty line.
"Well?" Kaidoh asked, inching up beside Kusuo, fidgeting with his red bandages. Kuboyasu sighed.
"54.2 meters."
...
"Offu," the four boys said in unison, prompting a nostalgic flash to that moment after the sports festival in Year2—Year1 when they all got buzz cuts. Kuboyasu nodded. "Yeah."
"This isn't good you guys." Again, Hairo surprised Kusuo by being the voice of reason. He stared down over Kuboyasu's shoulder, looking at the chart, and tapped the back of his thumb against his chin. "I'm all for personal improvement, but these results are way too drastic. Anyone would know something was up if Saiki throws numbers this high."
"I agree, but right now isn't the time to think about that." Kuboyasu stood and clapped a hand on Kusuo's shoulder. "Let's finish the tests; then we'll decide what should be done."
Something warm and tight closed around Kusuo's heart, making it ache in a surprisingly pleasant way. Looking down, Kusuo touched his fingers to his chest, brow furrowed. Since when does pain feel good? Am I becoming a masochist?
"All right," Kuboyasu said, planting himself firmly in front of the side-step box Kaidoh had drawn out. "Let's go, Shun!"
"Oh! Um…yeah…" Kaidoh shot Kusuo a nervous glance before looking away and scratching at his cheek. He seemed embarrassed; borderline humiliated, even. Kusuo's heart ached again, this time in a far less pleasant way that he definitely didn't like. Not a masochist, then.
"Ready, Shun?" Kuboyasu asked, his words slurred by the silver whistle in his mouth. Where the hell did that come from?
Kaidoh got into position and nodded. Kuboyasu blew his whistle at the same moment he clicked the stopwatch he held to life. Kusuo kept count as Kaidoh shuffled from side-to-side and didn't have to guess that everyone else was too. Except probably Nendou, who Kusuo was pretty sure couldn't count that high.
Kuboyasu blew his whistle again to signal time was up and quickly scribbled the number down with the whistle dangling precariously between his lips. "30 sidesteps, Shun. You've improved again."
Once again, Kaidoh looked less than thrilled by his "stellar" performance, but at least he hadn't gone off again to huddle in the corner. Not looking up from the chart, Kuboyasu waved in Nendou's direction.
"You're up, Nendou."
"Yeah, yeah." Nendou set up, waited for Kuboyasu's whistle, and was off in a flash. He moved so fast, he almost had an afterimage. The whistle blew again, and Nendou came to an unnaturally quick stop.
"75. You're slipping up, Nendou," Kuboyasu said, the whistle tweeting softly with every word. "You had 83 last year."
Nendou grunted and kicked at the uneven ground. "Not as good as the gym floor. My shoes kept catching on the pavement. I'll make up for it in the real thing, though. Just wait and see!"
Kuboyasu grunted, either not listening or not caring, and finished taking notes. He glanced at Kusuo over the top of his glasses, his face grim, and nodded toward the box. "Okay, Kusuo; your turn."
Since when am I "Kusuo" to you? Still, Kusuo didn't correct him as he stepped into the box and settled into position. He waited, his muscles tense and tight like over-coiled springs until: tweet!
Kusuo slid side to side to side to side, not letting himself pause to think lest he run the risk of over analyzing and skew the results. It seemed at once seconds and hours before the whistle sounded again, and Kusuo stumbled slightly over his shoes before bouncing to a stop. Nendou was right; ruined asphalt was not a good surface for this kind of test.
Kuboyasu hummed and nodded as he recorded Kusuo's number; a number Kusuo suddenly realized he didn't know as he hadn't been counting. Idiot.
"I got 73," Hairo said, looking around. "Guys?"
"73," Kuboyasu and Kaidoh confirmed before Kuboyasu continued, "But he was half-way to 74."
Kuboyasu tapped his pencil against the top of the clipboard, his expression speculative. "Considering Nendou's numbers, we can reasonably assume that Kusuo would be in the lower 80s, at least, if we had a proper floor, which again puts him well above average."
Kaidoh unexpectedly perked up at that, his garnet eyes sparking as he pointed to himself. "Does that mean I'll do better than 30 next week?"
Kuboyasu offered the excitable boy an indulgent grin. "Anything is possible."
The testing continued for another two hours with Kusuo meeting or exceeding Nendou's numbers in every event. Anxiety curled in Kusuo's stomach as he finished his standing long-jump with an extraordinary length of 3.13 meters. This was not right in any way, shape, or form.
With his powers sealed as they were, Kusuo should be, at best, completely average when it came to his physical prowess. Honestly, Kusuo had gone into this expecting to be closer to Kaidoh's level then Nendou's. He hadn't even really anticipated matching Hairo's numbers, crazy training zealot that he was. And yet, based on the results so far, Kusuo could still probably medal in any event he chose to compete in, though some may be silver instead of gold.
"Hey, Kusuo." Kuboyasu's violet eyes cut to Kusuo's over the top of his raised clipboard. "Are you sure your powers are really gone?"
If God loves me at all, they are.
Oh wait, He doesn't.
Fists clenched, Kusuo looked away and glared at a nearby volleyball, daring it to explode. Unable to vocalize something so terrible, he shrugged.
"Damn." A crack chased Kuboyasu's curse, and Kusuo glanced over to see he'd snapped the eraser tip off his pencil. The former(-ish) delinquent didn't seem to notice. Instead, he was looking from Hairo to Kaidoh and even Nendou as if searching for answers. "What do you guys think? If we keep practicing, it could push Kusuo to get his powers back. It might be best to quit while we're ahead."
"It could," Hairo said. "But I don't think so. Sure, Saiki is pushing the athletic boundaries, but he's still firmly on the normal side. And while it's possible that his powers could return in time, if they do, then training now would be the best option. If he learns to control his powers as they get stronger—if they get stronger—then he'll be in a much better position if they ever get back to where they were."
"You say that like I didn't train with them growing up," Kusuo said. "I'm not irresponsible. Why do you think I wore those limiters and glasses for so long?"
"Whoa, whoa!" Hairo waved his hands placatingly. "That's not what I'm saying at all. I mean, you told us you've had these powers since you were born right? You started talking when you were fourteen days old, man. That level of comprehension is off the charts. Not to mention levitating at one month and teleporting for the first time at one year; you never had a chance to ease into your powers because they were always just there. Sure, they got stronger every year, but they were clearly pretty strong to begin with."
Hairo scratched at the back of his head for a moment before continuing. "It's like if a kid learned to ride a bike by riding on a motorcycle, then strapped rockets to that motorcycle only a few years later."
What a stupid analogy. Kusuo's lips twitched toward a smile, but he managed to tamp it down. Kaidoh nodded dramatically, a sudden wind rustling his altered gym-clothes and tugging back the red ribbon he'd tied around his forehead at some point for some reason.
"Hairo's right, Saiki. And of course, there's that to consider as well."
"That?" Kuboyasu, Hairo, and Nendou said together. Kusuo swallowed a sigh. I don't even want to know.
"Obviously, the failure of your seal is part of Dark Reunion's plot to purge the world! If your powers return, then Dark Reunion will be able to steal them from you and turn them into a weapon against all that is good and just! Maintaining the seal on your powers is as vital as ensuring the beast in my right arm is never released, lest mankind suffer the consequences!"
Yare, yare. Kusuo passed a hand over his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose. I knew I didn't want to know.
More than that, though, the throbbing in Kusuo's chest was back in the worst way. The ache swelled within him, pressing tightly against his heart and lungs then up through his throat where it settled in a lump.
They all seemed pretty upset by the idea of his powers returning. No doubt his abilities unnerved them even more than they'd let on. Not that Kusuo had a right to complain; they still treated him the way they always had and that's more than he had any right to expect. Besides, his powers were intimidating, obtrusive, and dangerous; he couldn't blame them for being scared at the thought of them coming back.
"Hey, you okay, buddy?" Nendou's face appeared inches from Kusuo's own. He was so close, their noses almost brushed. "You look really pale all of a sudden."
"It's nothing." Kusuo jerked backward, but his mouth seemed to have a mind of its own as it continued, "You all seem pretty bothered by this."
Nendou, Kuboyasu, Hairo, and Kaidoh all shared the same surprised look between themselves before turning back to Kusuo.
"Of course, we're bothered, Saiki." Hairo folded his arms and tilted his head to the left. "You don't want your powers back, right? You want to be ordinary. What kind of friends would we be if we didn't want that for you?"
Offu.
Unable to calm his sudden blush, Kusuo turned away scowling and rubbed his right cheek with the tip of his finger. "We still have the flexibility test."
"Aye, sir!" His friends shouted back.
Yare, yare. Kusuo sighed but couldn't help his quirk-lipped smile. That's the wrong anime.
It only took another fifteen minutes to finish the last of the tests, but that's because Kaidoh relished in his opportunity to gloat over his (admittedly impressive) flexibility scores. Even Kusuo didn't quite manage to reach the toe-touch length Kaidoh did, which only served to sharpen the Jet Black Wing's nose even further, but whatever. Kusuo's lips tilted up as he watched Kaidoh laugh uproariously, his hands on his hips and his nose in the air.
Everyone deserves at least a small victory now and then.
"Okay, you guys." Hairo clapped his hands to regain order. "We've got what we needed, now we need to figure out what to do with it. Saiki?" He looked over, his rust-colored eyes glinting like smoldering coals. Clearly, he was trying to suppress his excitement over discovering a new rival; Kusuo appreciated his restraint. "You're the boss here; what do your ideal numbers look like?"
The question hit Kusuo like his own psychic powered fist to the head. What an unexpectedly loaded question.
Two weeks ago—hell, two minutes ago—he would have said exactly what he always did: he wanted to be ordinary. He didn't want to draw attention or make people look at him twice or start talking to him for no reason. But right now, surrounded by people who knew everything about him and only cared one way or the other because they cared about him, made the world suddenly look very different.
Looking at their earnest faces, Kusuo knew without a doubt that they would do whatever it took to help him hide, but that knowledge only reminded him of all the strain and self-doubt he'd forced Mom to live with for the first seventeen (and then some because time-loop) years of his life. And if he'd finally been able to realize that wasn't fair to her, the woman who birthed him and loved him unconditionally, then it triply wasn't fair to his friends.
Gritting his teeth and clenching his fists, Kusuo found the guts to answer. "I don't want to stand out."
"All right then," Kuboyasu said at once, bringing his eraserless pencil down to the chart. "We'll have to practice regulating your strength when you throw so you know how to put in a good show without giving away—"
"No."
"Eh?" His friends said together before Kuboyasu shoved his glasses up his nose with his middle finger. Another hold-over from his Yankee days?
"What are you talking about, Kusuo?"
His fists still clenched, Kusuo looked his friends in the eye so they wouldn't question his resolve. "I don't want to stand out, but I'm not going to hide anymore either."
The other four shared incredulous looks between them before Kaidoh stepped forward. "Are you hearing yourself? You can't both hide and let loose, Saiki. Your numbers are too drastic a change from last year. People will notice that, which means they'll notice you."
Kusuo scowled and looked away, his fists tightening so much his nails cut into his palms. "It's not your responsibility or obligation to lie for me."
Hairo scratched the back of his head, looking lost. "We're your friends, Saiki. That means we've got your back, no matter what."
Exclamations of support chased Hairo's declaration, but Kusuo shook his head before pinning each one of them with a near glare. "You don't get it; I won't make you guys lie for me. No one should ever have to lie for me again."
"Again…?" Kaidoh trailed off before nodding knowingly. "Your parents, right?"
Kusuo offered a half-hearted grunt that passed as agreement.
Kuboyasu sighed. "That doesn't change the fact that these numbers are off the charts, Kusuo. Are you really okay with that?"
Of course, I'm not. But how could he say that? He barely had the right words when he was trying to talk about things he cared about or enjoyed; what words did a person use to defend a decision they made but still hated?
"I might have a solution…"
Four sets of eyes snapped to Kaidoh who held his hand up with a tentative face as if he was answering a question in class of which he was only half certain. He quelled a bit under the powerful stares of his four best friends but rallied admirably by rolling his shoulders and clearing his throat.
"What if we got the test postponed until after summer break?"
Kuboyasu's eyebrows shot up. "What good would that do? He would still have the same numbers he does now."
"Y-yeah, probably." Kaidoh scratched his cheek nervously and looked away. "But if the five of us say we spent the summer training, then it wouldn't be too weird if Kusuo got so much better. Especially if I improve a lot too."
Now Kaidoh's using my given name?
Hairo put a hand to his chin and nodded. "That could work. It would also give Kusuo the chance to figure out his actual limits. It's entirely possible that today was a fluke, after all. If we get in some actual training, his numbers could settle into something more natural on their own."
Am I "Kusuo" to everyone, now? Also, stop trying to steal my vacation again; I had enough quality time with you guys during all six years of second year.
"The problem now is how we get the test postponed." Hairo lowered his hand and looked around. "Any ideas?"
"Hm…" Kuboyasu tapped the broken end of the pencil against his lips, which slowly turned up into a demon smile. "If somethin' were to happen to the school, they'd have to postpone the test, wouldn't they?"
Kusuo held his arms up in an 'X.' Denied. Vandalism is a serious crime.
"What about a petition?" Hairo asked. "We could pass it around all the third-year classrooms."
Kusuo held his arms up in an 'X.' Who would sign it besides us?
Kaidoh laughed once and flicked back his hair. "I suppose there's no choice but for I, the Jet-Black Wings, to—!"
Kusuo held his arms up in an 'X.' No, no, no, no, no.
"Look, I don't really get what you all are saying, but if you want to change something, why don't you just ask Teruhashi-san?"
Kusuo, Kaidoh, Kuboyasu, and Hairo looked over at Nendou with uncomprehending stares. "Huh?"
Nendou shrugged while picking his nose. "Sure, just tell Teruhashi-san you need to get the test put off until after summer, and she can tell the teachers. They'll listen to her, you know. Everyone listens to Teruhashi-san."
"Holy crap!" Kaidoh leaped back, his hands up in a warding position as he stared at Nendou with wide, burgundy eyes. "Nendou said something smart!"
He's done that before, Kusuo grudgingly admitted, if only to himself. For being an idiot, Nendo had a surprising amount of common sense.
"Hey, guys, check it out!" Nendou opened and closed his thumb and pointer finger were a long line of mucus was connected to each pad. "It's all stretchy!"
Never mind; he's an absolute moron.
