7. surely they remember (their passions)

They begin to rethink their actions.

Is what they're doing really the greatest way to rebel? No one can say for sure. But sometimes, people don't need a speech or a dramatic turnaround to change their heart.

People turn differently-- from actions, from experiences, from instinct, from tears.

Raimon find their own ways, slowly.

-

-

-

Raimon wins the match with a 4 - 1, a clear dismissal of the predetermined score order.

Sangoku didn't have much to do, because Eito's forwards don't even make it to the goal. It's probably for the best, because Sangoku and the senior defenders still looked like they were having a crisis.

It was funny to see the coach on the other end absolutely lose his shit, but there was nothing they could do against the cheering crowd, the excited announcer, and all the TV coverage. Their hands were tied by their own farce.

Ms Otonashi's face was pale, but somehow, she didn't look all that troubled.

In fact, she pulls her glasses down to her eyes, and her feet shuffle almost restlessly. Like she wanted to go back into an old habit, snatch Akane's camera, and make one hell of a news scoop out of this amazing situation.

At some point, Aoi starts cheering loudly with Midori, and Akane's smile grows.

Shinsuke switches in for Kirino halfway through the second half, but the defense doesn't falter at all. Kirino makes his way to the bench-- and Coach Kudou fixes him a serious, stoical gaze.

(Kirino's forgotten how it felt to look this man in the eye.)

(It's been so long. So, so long since he was their coach. It's almost jarring to have him by their side again, giving instructions as he should.)

(Needless to say, he still has no idea how to interpret those meaningful gazes.)

Coach Kudou's face is expressionless as ever-- but he sets a hand on Kirino's, and tells him to sit down and rest his legs. Don't forget the cooling down exercises, because Kirino isn't playing again today and better treasure his stamina time.

Kirino has no idea what Coach Kudou is thinking, but well-- he was being nice, if nothing else. Hopefully it's of approval, or at least he wants to believe.

Who ever knows what Coach Kudou is thinking, anyways? Definitely not Kirino.

-

"Don't get the wrong idea! I didn't do it for you!"

Is the first thing Kurama yells upon reaching the bench after the end of the match.

They're all doing their cooldown exercises, and Tenma's been sparkling in very blatant exhilaration for the past twenty minutes. It's honestly getting annoying. (Note to self, get sunglasses.)

Hamano snickers. "What a tsundere."

"Shut up, Hamano!"

"I'm gonna go home and sleep, and when I wake up, this will be a dream," Hayami mutters lowly, "yeah. That's it. That's what this is. Maybe if I close my eyes here I'll wake up and I'll be on my bed and this will all just be one crazy nightmare and--"

Hamano leaps onto Hayami's back, earning a terrified shriek.

"Haha! Guess that proves this isn't a dream huh?"

"Hamanoooooooo!" came the despaired wail.

"Hah. Get it, because, Hama- 'No'?" Hamano snarks at the rest of the team, all who roll their eyes at him. He turns away, proud of himself.

(Akane laughs, so he counts that as a win.)

Shindou stands up quickly-- and leaves the pitch before anyone else.

"Wait, Shindou-kun!" Ms Otonashi calls after him-- because how could the captain leave before hearing the coach's debriefing? That wasn't like him at all-- but Shindou simply continued walking.

"I'll go after him," Kirino says, standing up. He apologizes to the coach, and with everyone's following eyes-- he leaves the field after the captain.

The silence that ensues is stilted, almost like their actions were finally sinking in.

And it really didn't feel good at all. They won, but they felt nothing but an impending sense of something going terribly, terribly wrong-- and that just sucked.

Shinsuke and Tenma bows toward them. "Thank you for the good game!"

But even Hamano couldn't return their smiles here.

"Are we sure what we're doing is right?" Sangoku speaks up. "I mean, we've already done it-- but..."

"We know," Minamisawa interrupts him. He picks up his water bottle. "Our club is pretty much done for now. So I guess if we wanna bail, now's about the right time."

And that made sense.

With this clear sign of rebellion, Fifth Sector will either replace the team or the coach at this point, probably both-- and with that, everyone in the current team will no longer have a space in the soccer world.

So this was, realistically speaking, the last match they'll ever have.

(Or so they believed, but they didn't have a reason to think otherwise, so it's honestly quite hard to blame them.)

Ichino picks up his phone from Aoi's care, and sends a discreet email to Aoyama.

"We won," it simply read.

A second later, Aoyama responds. 

"Guess it's really happening, huh."

Ichino purses his lips, unsure what to think of it. 

-

They make their way back to the team bus, and make their way back to the school.

Shindou hasn't said a thing. He goes up the bus before everyone, sits in his corner-- and remains silent. Kirino sits beside him, trying to talk to him-- but no one in the bus really cared for conversation at the time.

Even Tenma and Shinsuke were silent, asleep and exhausted for the day.

Seriously, they were such children.

Kurama and Minamisawa faced different directions, never once saying a thing about what they did on the field.

If (when) things go wrong, they no longer have a reason to claim they weren't involved. They quite literally enabled it personally, so if anything, they were second in line for responsibility. And they were very well aware of that.

Tsurugi is nowhere to be seen. He's probably making a report to Fifth Sector, and has already informed the coach he'll make his own way to wherever he needs to go.

ICHINO:

Are you sure?

Kirino looks at the message-- and his face pulls tight. There was no elaboration, just a vague question-- and in this situation, they obviously knew what it meant.

To all of them, this was their lowest point. They were seconds away from being disbanded as a club, and there was nothing they could blame except their own stubborn insanity.

Kirino was the only one that could look at this differently-- he could see this as the very climatic moment before Coach Endou comes in so their efforts finally make clear waves.

And there was nothing Kirino could use to convince them except pure blind faith.

KIRINO:

Yes, I am.

Ichino doesn't reply after that-- but Kirino closes his eyes-- and he breathes. Because they'll see. They'll see soon, and they'll know his faith was put in the right place.

(Time travel tends to put people in some awkward situations, doesn't it?)

Kirino pulls out a little cubed device from his hair tie. It had been tied just right, so the device was hidden in the center of the bundle of hair, not quite visible unless the locks shuffled just right.

He hides it within his hands, shutting it off quickly-- and tucking it safely in his bag.

Gathering evidence of on-court discord was unexpectedly fun.

-

"Kirino-senpai!" Tenma calls out to the boy as the all part ways at the school gate.

The first-year is followed by Shinsuke and Aoi, both who look just as resolved as they did in the morning.

Kirino, though, was a little crushed. 

Shindou had ignored him, choosing to blatantly bypass the boy and rush home with a hurried step. A clear indication that he needed some time alone, and Kirino wasn't allowed in his bubble. It hurt a little, but it'll pass.

"Tenma," Kirino turns to him. "Good work out there today. Your dribbling is pretty good."

Tenma blushes at that, "ah but--! I mean, thank you! But uh, I still can't catch up to Kurama-senpai and Minamisawa-senpai, so... no no, I wasn't gonna say that!" He shakes his head furiously. 

Shinsuke pouts, "that's nice, you get a compliment from Kirino-senpai..."

"That's not the point!" Tenma whines. "I just wanna say--" he breathes in, and then bows down low. "Thank you very much, Kirino-senpai!"

His loud volume catches the attention of Sangoku and Amagi, who had yet to leave. 

Kirino blinks.

"You stayed on our side even when everyone else was against you," Tenma says. "I'm really grateful for that. It's the only reason we won this match today-- so thank you."

Shinsuke quickly bows too. "We couldn't have done it without you, Kirino-senpai!" he declares. "I thought you were really, really cool!"

"I thought so too!" Aoi echoes, bowing as well.

Kirino flusters. "Please don't do that, that's embarrassing!" he tries to get them out of the bowing chain. Sangoku and Kurumada and watching with resigned smiles. "I just did what I wanted to do... but now, I think the rest of the team are having doubts. So I'm not sure if it'll be alright from now on..."

"It'll work out somehow!" Tenma declares.

Kirino blinks at that. Tenma had said it immediately, confidently-- even Kirino couldn't do that. But Tenma stares back up at him, eyes open and full of unflinching boldness.

There's no possible way Tenma could know something like this for sure-- and yet, he believed in it more than Kirino himself did.

"Soccer is alive!" Tenma says, "so now that we've started to fight back-- I just know that it'll work out somehow as long as we go on! I'm sure soccer was really happy with what we did today, so we can't give up now."

Kirino paused. Everyone stares at Tenma, stoic faces and slightly dropped jaws.

Then they burst into laughter.

Tenma's face heated up. "Why are you laughing?!" he belatedly realizes he's referred to soccer as a person again, blubbering his next line, "I mean I'm just-- metaphorically-- it's true, okay?! I mean-- you guys know what I mean, stop laughing!"

Kirino doesn't expect to be cheered up by his own junior after such a miserable match-- but really, all Tenma's done for all his life is cheer people up.

(That's why he's such great Captain material, after all.)

"I'm sure everyone will come around," Kirino says, sounding sure of himself this time. "It'll work out somehow... right?"

It'll work out somehow. It's Tenma's slogan, and that blatant positivity has saved them time and time again. All of Raimon had an innate love hate relationship with it three years down the road, Kirino included.

It'll work out somehow. Kirino's no stranger to fate's discrepancies.

-

Midori, Kurumada, as well as Hayami and Hamano, were helping Ms Otonashi clear out the van. There weren't a lot of things, so everyone else went on ahead.

Coach Kudou was almost immediately called to the Board Chairman's office. He was quite literally walking right into his dismissal notice, and they all knew it. 

"I still can't believe we did that, though," Hamano says with a sigh. "You think Fifth Sector will seriously disallow us from participating in Holy Road or something?"

"Definitely," Kurumada sighs. "I still think you guys were being rash about it."

"Huh? They can do that?" Midori gawks, nearly dropping the ice box in her arms. "Like, just not allow us?"

"Of course they can," Ms Otonashi sighs. They're the higher ups, after all-- they can claim misbehavior, or volley up the rules so the third years can't play-- there will be noise, sure. But the noise will also eventually die down. "That's why we've always just kept quiet and obeyed." 

She speaks softly, but the smile on her face never falters.

And that doesn't miss anyone's notice.

"Otonashi-sensei, are you actually encouraging this?" Hayami finally speaks up, sounding more hurried than he wanted to. It's obvious to everyone that his hands are shaking, and he hasn't quite calmed from the anxiety of the field.

Kurumada is the same. "Wha-- Otonashi-sensei," he accuses, incredulous.

Hamano keeps a close eye on Hayami-- he steps just a little closer, the action so subtle the latter barely notices the action.

Midori set down the ice box beside the lockers. She would usually be vocal about 'screw Fifth Sector obviously', but even she knew the tension in the team now-- and it's not a lighthearted matter.

Ms Otonashi's gaze softens for a moment. "I don't believe going about it recklessly is the right way to do it," she admits. "But what we did today... it reminded me of my days as the manager of this club."

Their heads lift. Not all of them were aware that Ms Otonashi was an alumnus.

She smiles. "It's a nice feeling, isn't it?" She asks them. "Kicking the ball freely, playing against something you don't agree with, even if it's the world you're facing." They'd faced terrorists that destroyed buildings with a kick of a ball, and they came out victorious. "It might seem vain and impossible now-- but if we'd given up at that time, we would have lost our soccer much earlier than now. My feelings haven't changed... I've just forgotten them for a bit."

The four students look at her, taking in the way she was speaking. It was honest, open, and full of emotion. Just like Tenma and Shinsuke-- those were raw feelings of pure-hearted love for soccer.

When was the last time they were able to speak about soccer like that?

(Kurumada clenches his fist. He wanted to be able to speak like that too-- he's already in his third year, dammit. And he hasn't been proud to play soccer for a long time. It was a terrible feeling, and he hates it.)

"That love for soccer is something all of us have. I'm sure today's plays made you remember just a little of it yourselves," Ms Otonashi says, setting a hand at her heart.

Hamano doesn't suppress his smile. "Of course we do!" He beams.

"I... think so too," Kurumada says, to their surprise. "I don't want to stop now-- I haven't been fine with this system, ever. But it's not that easy to just-- just do that, go against them."

"Then, fight! What are all of you, wimps?!" Midori snaps.

Kurumada spins at her, equally heated. If she wanted an argument, Kurmada had enough anger to give her one. "That's easier said! We've been laying down low because not everyone's in agreement when it comes to this, and it's impossible to do alone--"

Her answer is instantaneous. "Why are we leaving Kirino alone now, then?"

And Kurumada freezes, going shock still.

Because she's right. They didn't want to do this from the start-- because it was idealistic, and not many had the bravery to rally up enough confidence for that plan. Even Shindou couldn't take charge of that effort.

And yet-- now that Kirino's doing the tough part for them, none of them want to move.

But even then, not everyone agreed.

Hayami shrinks further into himself, "I mean... yes, but..." he purses his lips. "It's... irrational. Really, very, just-- irrational. All of you. I thought at least you would understand me when I say this makes no sense, Otonashi-sensei."

"Look here you--" Midori tries to say something, but Kurumada stops her. Midori groans, but Kurumada is grateful she doesn't chase for it.

If it's Hayami, the boy that's usually too anxious to speak against the crowd-- they should tread carefully. Not to walk on eggshells, but because it means Hayami has a point he really wants to make, and interrupting is enough to invalidate him.

"I like to be normal." Hayami says, hands reaching up to his head, lightly clawing at his hair. "Like-- it's not that I don't understand wanting to play real soccer. But it's just a sport-- it's not worth actually risking our reputation for this. I don't want to get in trouble."

And that honestly isn't too hard to understand, either.

"Hayami," Hamano speaks up, his tone a hitch lower than his usual easygoing flow-- but Hayami keeps his eyes away from him, not intending to listen.

He knows-- Hayami's regretting his words already.

He's always been like that-- keeping things to himself-- and when they inevitably explode, he hates every second of it. If there was a hole, he would hide in it. And if there was a route, he would sprint and no one could catch him.

It's always up to Hamano to drag him back and into everything-- because Hamano and Hayami have always been each other's madness and reason respectively.

They got along despite being opposite ends of a spectrum, but there was always a time they didn't click no matter what. That was just the nature of their relationship. Disagreements go on, and until one of them caves, there wasn't going to be understanding.

This was one of those times.

"Well, that's fine too," Ms Otonashi's response surprises them all. "Everyone's scared of something-- we'd all be lying if we said we're confident our efforts won't backfire on us. And this willy-nilly attitude is honestly fine for us."

Hayami looks up, stunned. His jaw drops slightly, not quite believing what he was hearing here.

Hamano looks up, eyes wide as well-- Ms Otonashi smiles at them.

"I don't think I've ever told you guys when Ramon Eleven took a road trip and defeated aliens all around Japan," she chuckles. Smiling like she's planned something mischievous, "how about sensei here take all three of you out on a dinner date to Rairaiken? It'll be my treat, of course."

A pause.

Then, "eh?"

Midori beams, "seriously? Count me in!"

"Wait," Kurumada says, more interested in the, "uh, aliens, as in-- the legendary Raimon Eleven's Aliea Academy situation, right?" than Fifth Sector right now. "I've heard a ton about it on the news, but they never really release a lot of actual details..."

"Yeah, they needed to protect the player's privacy or something..." Hayami mutters, hesitant but not unwilling to contribute information, "...because you guys were still junior high school students or something..."

"Did you guys seriously take down terrorists when you were our age?" Hamano asks, and Ms Otonashi nods without hesitation. "That's so cool."

"Wait, I don't see how this has to do with--"

"I'm not expecting to change all your minds with just a story, of course," Ms Otonashi says. "Just humour an old lady like me, won'tcha?"

And well, who were they to pass up on free food?

"And Ms Otonashi, you are still very young."

"It's a figure of speech, please."

-

"I'm back!"

"Sorry to intrude..."

"Ah, welcome back," Kazunari greets the three as they come in. 

He's always home on weekends, going grocery shopping and doing the house chores and all that-- man, what is he, a housewife? For real-- so greeting rowdy children was just something he was accustomed to.

He almost immediately scowls at the sight of them. "Shunsuke is in your room, but please take a shower first, both of you. Hey. Are you listening? HEY."

Kirino and Ichino come home, and almost with the energy of a fierce momma bear, Kazu chucks them right into the bath. No dirty children covered in grass, mud, and sweat are allowed in the house, thank you very much.

Aoyama watches from the room, snickering.

"I'll have my laptop set up," Aoyama tells them, "so hurry up, both of you."

"Right, right--" Kirino says, carting some towels and change of clothes from the other room. "Ah-- Kazu! Another friend is coming by in a bit, so please let her in."

"Sure," Kazu says, "I'm guessing you're all staying for dinner?" he freezes, belatedly realizing something. "Wait, did you say 'her'? You're bringing a girl home?"

"Don't freak out, Kazu-san. We're all gay here."

"That is not true, Nanasuke, and I know that."

"Not the point!" Kirino snaps. Then "her name is Akane, and she's the manager of the soccer club. Please don't be scared of her, alright?" Kirino says before shutting the bathroom door.

Kazu stares for a long moment.

Then, "...isn't it supposed to be the other way around?"

-

Kirino Ranmaru has a lot of sweaters.

Most of them are hand-me-downs from Kazu, because that guy is way too damn talented, and has attended way too many conferences that give complementary T-shirts and hoodies. And he's still in high school! Almost a graduate, but still.

It makes things worse that the guy is pursuing a fashion major, and Ranmaru was just the perfect dress-up doll to exploit.

Kirino steps back into his room, a tray of tea in his hands. He closes the door, and his jaw just drops. 

Because "what on earth?"

Two boys and a girl are huddled up around the laptop, all wearing one of Kirino's sweaters. Akane has particularly chosen one of the more obnoxiously cute ones, with bright pink accents and bunny ears sewn into the hood.

(Kirino remembers burying that particular jacket in the deepest darkest hollows of his closet. How did they even find it?)

"I swear I tried to stop them," Ichino insists.

Akane beams, "this is cute."

(Well, it suited her so much more than it could've possibly suited Ranmaru, so he reckons she can just keep it even if it's a little big on her.)

"It's not fair that only Ichino gets to borrow your clothes, so we snagged one too," Aoyama says, like that's a fair explanation.

"Me too."

"Ah, that aside--" Ichino says, lifting his phone, "can I stay over? I'm alone today."

"Ooh, me too!" Aoyama lunges over at the idea. 

"A sleepover? I want in," Akane says, excited. 

"No Akane, you do not sleep over in a house full of male creatures," Kirino responds immediately, ignoring Akane's little snort, "but unfortunately, I'm probably going over to Shindou's later. He might implode on himself from his intensive overthinking disorder."

"Awh, too bad."

"Gosh darn it, Shindou's intensive overthinking disorder," Ichino deadpans. 

"You know him," Kirino says, setting down the cups of tea, "I'm quite sure everyone's in similar states, but Shindou's got the tendency to put way too much on his own plate. I'm sure he's blaming himself for what happened today. I can't leave him alone."

Akane smiles at that.

"Then we better hurry up so you can go find our captain and give him a bear hug or a kiss or whatever," Aoyama hums, his hands typing away at the codes in the laptop.

They were building a website, filled with anonymous accounts and information on what they know of the Fifth Sector spread.

Here they would gather pictures, voice recordings, and an extensive account of the feud happening between Raimon on the bench just a few hours ago.

"We're almost done," Aoyama says. "Just need to redo the article a few times so it doesn't sound like I spent the past two hours rushing an essay, and then we can publish the website. I have firewalls, but I think it'll be safer to do that final step in a net cafe."

"Amazing, you got it done in just half a day..." Ichino leans over to get a better look, "the match itself feels like forever ago."

Almost doesn't feel like this morning, does it?

Akane hums, pleased at her rather fine selection of images, "but why are you so good at this, Aoyama-kun?"

Aoyama hums, "my mom's a software engineer. I've learned a bit," he says. "And I got started on the layout before you arrived, so there was only a little bit left to do."

Kirino inspects it. 

It's coming out really well-- their first step out-- making a scandal site. They had backups upon backups, in case it gets taken down quickly.

But there was something missing.

(A greater impact.)

"Can you guys hold off the publishing for now?" he asks. They look at him-- and he elaborates, "I want Coach Kudou's termination to be the key point of our first post."

It'll be the most jarring topic. After all-- Coach Kudou was the one that brought Inazuma Japan to victory. Losing him would certainly hit some very sensitive nerves in the soccer industry.

Akane even mentioned meeting Coach Endou in the stands today. That was a clear sign that that man, if no one else, was going to make a move.

That's why they have to do it now-- because dividing Fifth Sector's attention between the two forces (Raimon's resistance, and this little scandal project) would give both of them more freedom to act.

Aoyama sets his gaze firmly on the boy. "Are you sure they'll really do it?" He only gets a confident look from Kirino in response-- so he nods. "Alright then. We'll wait a little longer. Think we can get any sort of evidence for it?"

There ought to be some termination papers of some sort. Come to think of it, couldn't Coach Kudou have sued for unlawful termination? Or maybe all those moments were considered excessive misconduct?

Ichino sighs, sitting down on the bed. "Suddenly this all feels way too real," he mutters, hugging a pillow. "Hey, are we really really sure about this?"

"If you wanna back out, you still can," Akane says, cheerfully. "This is a lot of fun, so I'm staying!"

"I'm staying too," Aoyama says, "I am absolutely seeing this website come alive. I've already done all the coding, so giving up now would be a waste."

"Man, I wish you had that much determination for the soccer club."

"Oh shush, Ichino! That's low!"

Now all that's left is the page name and their pseud. It would be better to keep information about themselves, including age, number of members, and even gender, hidden-- so an appropriately obscure title would be needed.

"We could go basic and just call ourselves Admin," Aoyama says, "and title the page something generic like Exposing Fifth Sector or something."

"That'll put us right in their target, though..." Ichino says, "what about something like Anonymous Soccer fans?"

"That's too generic," Kirino tells him. "We do need a bit of publicity too-- something unique would be nice..."

And so the discussions continue.

There was just something so pleasing about this group, talking openly about years of corruption and how to go about opposing it. The effort was big, but the waves they would make were small.

And that was fine.

A butterfly's wings may cause a tornado a few thousand miles away; a little voice in the crowd can someday become the loudest sound in someone's head.

Just patience.

Patience will definitely reward.

-

"Minamisawa."

The purple-haired third-year walks on.

"Hey, Minamisawa!"

Kurama grabs the senior by the shoulder. Minamisawa steps back, but he keeps his gaze forward, stubbornly refusing to look at the shorter forward.

"Stop ignoring me!" he snaps.

"I'm not," Minamisawa says, "I just don't feel like talking."

"That's basically the same thing!" Kurama hisses. He grabs Minamisawa by the collar, dragging him toward him in an attempt to get the boy to face him.

Minamisawa is silent.

Kurama bites his lip. It's not fair for him to get angry at Minamisawa when they're both equally responsible for the shitshow that was today, he knows that. It's not as if his emotions are the only ones in a total mess-- so Kurama yells out in frustration, letting go with an angry shove.

"Fine, if you're gonna be like that," he snaps, marching away to the left. "I'm going home on my own. I hope I don't see you at practice tomorrow."

Petty, but Kurama doesn't care.

Minamisawa looks over, dryly remarking that "your house is in the other direction."

"And why does it matter to you where I go?" Kurama yells, having no intention to walk straight home today. "Good BYE!"

Minamisawa sighs, watching the shorter forward stomp off like a child.

Rolling his eyes, he stuffs his hands in his pockets. He's in no mood to cater to Kurama's tantrums today-- but then again, he really felt like having a temper tantrum himself.

If today's the last day they play soccer, then they might as well celebrate and drown in their misery like the children they are.

So he stuffs his hands in his pockets and catches up to the forward, hooking his shoulder around the boy.

Kurama whines, "get off me!"

Minamisawa does not. 

He's taller, so it's not like Kurama can do much of anything anyways. "Don't wanna," he says, directing his attention to the road. "Wanna drop by the arcade or something?"

"I thought you were ignoring me?!"

"Yeah, got bored of that," Minamisawa says, fiddling with his wallet with his free hand. "How much you got? Let's find out how much we have to splurge."

And that's how they spent the rest of the day, yelling at each other in the arcade, spending all their money and releasing all their pent up frustrations for the day.

Amagi is always the best at the crane games, so after one friendly text as an invitation, he shows up and proceeds to raid everything that was ugly in the machines so they can fill up Minamisawa's house with those monstrosities. 

They were definitely the loudest party in the facility that day.

Sangoku finds them when he passes by on his way home from buying groceries. He was not happy with their irresponsible spending behaviour, and sent them home.

("Okay, dad," says Kurama, earning him a punch to the head.)

-

Kirino makes his way into the Shindou house, greeting his parents and the butler before making his way to the Captain's room.

He opens the door. The group chat was harried with news of Coach Kudou's dismissal. No one was taking it well. Minamisawa was strangely quiet. Hayami and Hamano were silent as well-- but Shindou's silence was the most unnerving.

Which is what brought Kirino here.

Kirino opens the door without so much as a knock.

Rubato (Shindou's obnoxiously large twenty-five pound maine coon) curls around his feet, purring softly in greeting. Kirino crouches down to rub it under the ears. "Hi Rubert," he says, because no one calls this cat by its right name, "where's your little brother?"

He's directed toward the couch-- because Shindou Takuto has a room large enough to fit a few couches, a bookshelf, a work table, a tea table, a cat tower, several cat beds, one hell of a huge human bed, and let's not forget the grand piano. What the heck.

Seriously, Kirino has no idea how my-brother-sews-me-clothes became friends with yes-we-have-expensive-china-that-we-use-every-day.

"Shindou, are you sleeping?" he asks.

Shindou is on his couch, somewhere between sleeping and contemplating. He hums some sort of non-commital of response, not even bothering to look up at Kirino.

Well, it makes sense. He's probably angry.

Kirino sits down on the single seat couch, watching Rubato hop up in all its fluffy glory onto his lap. Upon closer inspection, there was a much smaller, lighter coloured ball of fluff asleep on Shindou's chest.

(Ah, so that's where Poco is.)

They spend a long moment in silence. Not even the butler bothered them. It was almost time for dinner, but no one came to ask if they had an appetite. Kirino runs a hand through Rubato's fur, admiring the sleek silver fur.

"Why did you do it?"

Kirino lifts his head, not expecting Shindou to talk first.

It's not hard to know immediately what Shindou is referring to. What else could it be, when everyone is miserable about the same thing.

"Because I know it's the right thing to do," he says, knowing this sounds ridiculous, but his answer hasn't changed in three hours and it's not about to change yet.

Shindou clicked his tongue. "Well, it isn't!" he snaps, sitting up.

Poco squeaks, suddenly thrown awake from his spot. He whines at Shindou from his lap for a while before escaping the scene, deciding the cat tower would be a better perch.

"We talked about this. Literally the evening before!" Shindou says, his voice laced with something sort of pure anger. He must have been stewing on these thoughts for much too long, because Kirino could see the burn of tears in his eyes. "We aren't supposed to go against the score order because that's not how it works!"

Kirino tries not to falter, but it's hard. Kirino has seen him get this angry before, but it was never directed at him specifically.

"Shindou--"

"Don't try to use that placating tone on me, Kirino," Shindou reacts immediately. "Tell me honestly-- what's wrong with you? You were never like this."

Kirino's eyes widen.

"It's all gone wrong," he says. "Ever since Matsukaze came into the club-- no. It's before that. Ever since that day you missed practice once," Shindou's eyes were tight with pain.

(The day of the caravan crash and the time travel.)

Kirino doesn't know what to say.

The truth would sound like a dumb excuse. Not specifically the part about time travel-- but the fact that he's doing it simply because of the dumb reason that is 'it worked last time, so it should work this time too'.

In fact, Kirino knew that this time would have plenty of bumps. With an earlier start to the 'lonely revolution', there was a higher chance of actually getting purged out-- if not by legal means, then by violent means.

But that didn't matter to Kirino.

All he wanted was to have them back again-- to hurry, to get back there as soon as he can (though deep down he just knows that isn't possible anymore, at least to some degree) but he doesn't want to acknowledge that so he keeps trying.

He's trying to skim past the event of this present, because it doesn't matter to him as long as they get their happily ever after-- properly this time.

He doesn't need some dramatic pep talk, some incredible revolution, or the greatest fame in the world. He just wants the progress they've made in the soccer world to come back to him, because he misses it so, so much.

Maybe they're right.

Maybe Kirino's really gone insane.

"I had a dream, Shindou," he says. Shindou flinches, as if he wasn't expecting Kirino to answer calmly-- or maybe it's something in his eyes. Kirino doesn't know how his eyes look now-- they're just burning, and holding back the tears make his head hurt.

Kirino feels his lips curl upward, but he doesn't think it's a smile.

"I dreamt that everything was fine. Fifth Sector didn't rule soccer, games were fair, and we were standing together-- just a few steps away from an international stage," he tells him. "All of us, in Raimon, from Sangoku, to Kurama, even Tenma and Shinsuke. All of us, standing together, and we were reaching higher than we could ever imagine now-- and it was because we worked for it. Not because of Fifth Sector."

Shindou's face bloats with confusion.

Kirino leans back, lifting his hand from the cat and turning his gaze to his arm. In a few years, a particular nasty scrape would leave a deep scar right around his elbow. It would affect his stretch once in a while, but with a brace and good warm ups, it almost never gave him a problem.

Now it's gone, but the careful movements in his muscle memory often show up in practice. He disguises it as a clumsy habit, but the fact is that it's there.

It's there, a part of him that still remains despite losing it all to this time travel.

He can't pretend it's not him, in the same way he can't just forget and adapt to this new timeline like the other timeline isn't what he (they) worked his (their) heart and soul off to achieve. It just didn't work out comfortably-- it's a cognitive dissonance, and it frustrates him enough to make him scream.

So he hugs himself, and he chews on his lip.

"I want to get back there," he says, sounding fiercer than he wants to be, speaking more honestly than Shindou could ever understand. "Because I know we were there. It wasn't just a dream, Shindou-- it was possible. It was possible, I swear."

He couldn't find the words.

Kirino has never been the best at constructing convincing sentences-- that was better up Shindou's or Tenma's alley. He turns internally to Jeanne and Brynhildr-- but they were silent as well.

(Why were they silent? Why weren't they helping him?)

(Because deep down, he knows that won't work. Shindou trusts Kirino Ranmaru, but he does not trust Kirino Ranmaru for the pretty words and the confident declarations.)

(Shindou trusts Kirino as the one who's always been one step behind him, running up every hill and gliding down every curve. Kirino was always the one that would smile when he looked back, and shove him forward when he slowed down.)

(Their trust was not built on how logical or rational their actions were.)

(It was built on honesty, on emotions, and on pure, blind faith.)

He leans forward, feeling Rubato curl up a little closer to his arm. He appreciates the warmth-- but it's not exactly what he wanted now.

"I know it sounds stupid," Kirino says, looking up. He nearly falters when he sees Shindou looking back at him, but he holds strong. "But I woke up that day and... and I realized I don't want to play soccer like this anymore. And if I can't have the soccer I want to play, maybe there's no point in playing soccer. For all of us--"

Halfway through his spiel, Shindou moves.

Shindou moves-- and Kirino feels a hand on his arm before he sees it there.

He's still hugging himself-- and he abruptly realizes he's been doing it a little too tightly. His fingers had dug into his arms, leaving white indents and crescents on the skin that was slowly filling back in with blood.

Kirino stops talking, biting down his bottom lip like a child caught at fault.

And Shindou holds Kirino's arms apart, making sure the boy doesn't do it again. His gaze was firm, but his grip was steady.

The cat picks itself up, leaping away-- and Shindou lets go of Kirino's hands to lean in, burying his face in Kirino's lap, circling his arms around the defender's back.

There's a breath in, and a slow breath out.

"Shindou...?" he asks, but the Captain only hugs firmer in response. Kirino doesn't know what to do-- he just takes this moment to wipe away a stray tear he finds at the edge of his cheek, and thinks of the words he could possibly say now.

"I want it too."

Kirino is stunned to hear it.

"I want that dream, too," Shindou says, barely audible against Kirino's stomach. "I want that with you more than anything in the world."

(I want to play real soccer with you, on a real stage, too.)

"But I can't understand, Kirino," Shindou tells him, "it's wrong. Why did we spend all these years, biting our tongues until it bled? It's because it was impossible, wasn't it? So how is it so easy for you to say it's possible now?"

Kirino finds himself near tears again. He presses the heel of his palm to his eyes.

"I don't know," he admits. "I really don't know, Shindou," he says, because that's the truth. "But I think... I think more so than Fifth Sector itself-- I'm afraid of never playing soccer normally again. If this goes on... I'm scared I'll lose my joy and love for soccer for real this time."

This time, because it came very close last time, and only the care save of Tenma's efforts and the Resistance brought hope back into his world.

"I want to play soccer with you too, Kirino," Shindou tells him, and Kirino feels the dampness of tears at his stomach. "I really do."

He can't sleep soundly these days.

He can't sit still. That's why he's trying so hard to bring the Fifth Sector down personally this time-- because he physically can't stand the existence of the association any longer. He's not patient enough to wait for this arc's conclusion.

(He just wants to see the happy ending of that so distant dream, where they all get selected for Inazuma Japan, and they win on an International Stage.)

"I'm sorry, Shindou," Kirino whispers, leaning down so his forehead lay on Shindou's back. "I know this is just my wishful thinking-- but If this ends up going wrong, I want you to be with me even then."

Kirino has always been the one to pick up Shindou after his failures.

Can Shindou do the same for him?

Shindou unwound his arms from Kirino's back-- and Kirino lifts, startled-- only to find those arms wrapping around his neck instead.

"I'll try," Shindou promises, his voice croaky. A moment later, he admits heatlessly, "you're so selfish sometimes. I don't know where you get this from."

Kirino chortles. "I learned from the best, Shindou."

Shindou buries his face into Kirino's shoulders, and Kirino hugs back, holding back the urge to cry.

"Think we can get the team back together tomorrow?"

Coach Kudou wanted that too. He had left hopefully, not at all bitter-- and patted SIndou on the shoulder, telling him that what the team did wasn't wrong.

(How do you think Kurama and Minamisawa felt when they kicked that ball up the field?)

(I want all of you to remember it, and never forget it.)

"I thought we were hoping for the best here, Kirino," Shindou says, a tired sarcasm passing through his words. "How about we guess how many will stay instead?"

Kirino bursts into laughter.

"Sounds great to me!"

(In the future, Shindou eventually comes clean and admits he passed down the captain band, partly due to the fact that he hated responsibilities with a passion and would rather die than take one up with the crushing pressures ever again.)

(Let's just say Sangoku had to pay Kirino thirty bucks that day.)

Tomorrow will be fine. So for today-- Kirino will stay here, and pretend the world was just as he remembered.

Because if nothing else, Shindou will stay the same.

Even if he's missing a few years of their shared experiences.