Chapter Text
Part 6: Oh! That Explains A Lot...
Nakamura had officially hit a new low. After spending several weeks talking to nobody but Icchan and crying while listening to Aqua Pet, he was out of ways to waste his time at home. Kana threatened to tell their parents about his very private manga collection if he didn't get out of the house. Soon.
“Just go talk to that stupid idiot of yours and stop making it my problem! I can’t video chat with my friends if you’re wailing in the background…” Kana griped.
“I’m not wailing!” protested Nakamura. Even though he was, just a little bit.
For the past four weeks or so, there was only one thing on his mind: I completely blew it.
It was all he could think about. No reprieve.
Every time he was almost over it, he replayed the game, the confession, and then Hirose’s wide-eyed look at the cafe. The poor guy couldn’t even go to his favorite cafe now without Nakamura seeping inky black anxiety all over the place.
He probably sensed it through the window.
He stopped going out after that. School was hard enough, with everyone looking at him like they used to: uncomfortably, or not at all. Knowing the feeling of being well-liked made it hurt even more.
Nakamura got what he wanted, a brief glimpse into a life of admiration, so he shouldn’t feel sorry for himself. Plenty of people fumble confessions and get second chances! Probably not Nakamura, but he could survive. So what if he was planning to spend yet another Friday alone in his room? He liked his room!
“You don’t judge me, do you, Icchan?” he asked as he got dressed for school.
Icchan stared at him with his big, black eyes. ‘This is getting pathetic,' he seemed to say. 'You only play the sad Aqua Pet songs, and watching you read manga is boring. I would actually prefer to be alone for once…’
Even my octopus thinks I’m pathetic, lamented Nakamura.
Thankfully, he was offered a way out of the house with minimal social interaction. Tamura needed help setting up for his film screening.
[ please nakamura, it’s important ] Tamura texted.
[ then why ask so last minute?! ]
[ my other guy cancelled okay! ]
So, with the promise of coffee and cream puffs as payment, Nakamura went straight from school to the university thinking it would get him out of the bubble his life had become. It’s the perfect distraction. Nobody here knows me and even if they did, they’re all here to watch movies! I can completely forget about the shrine and Hirose.
What the films were about, he didn’t know. Couldn’t know, according to Tamura. He did know that it was a trilogy and that it was being billed as an austere romantic tragedy the likes of Dante would weep at. Whatever that meant.
He was given the job of setting up chairs, which at least gave him something else to think about for a change. He hadn’t realized how much he missed being on a team until he didn’t have one anymore. He missed yelling at his defense in a panic, and throwing his body in front of the ball.
He missed being a hero.
Coach had invited him back to the team, but he didn’t trust himself to handle the pressure again. One humiliating break was enough. He couldn’t handle another. Whether it was supernatural or innate, maybe he truly was cursed.
“Cheer up, Nakamura!” Tamura tried his hand at a pep talk. “One day, you’ll be in college and all those young, naive problems will seem so far away.”
Yes, but I don’t want to be far away from Hirose, Nakamura wept inside. On the outside, he unfolded the final chair and placed it neatly in line.
Then, Tamura pretended to fidget with the projector. “Hey, do you know if Aokiyama will be here? I comped her ticket, since she did me that favor with the posters and all.”
“Huh? Oh. I think she said she was.”
“Magnificent!” said Tamura.
Not feeling as warmly toward her, Nakamura grimaced. “Why?”
Tamura clutched his chest. “Have you ever felt a sudden desire to impress someone?”
More than you know, Nakamura thought.
“So much so that you spend an entire year making a movie tailored to their interests.”
“Ah, yes. Say no more.” Please.
“Only for them to be hot and cold…”
“I'm really not good at giving this kind of advice, Tamura!”
An hour later, he was halfway through the first film and had no clue what the plot was. All he knew was they had been in a dark, damp tunnel for twenty minutes and the lighting made it hard to make out what was going on.
Finally, they found their objective. “Look, we found it!” said the protagonist. A girl whose main character trait was pining after her teacher or her boss, Nakamura couldn’t tell.
He was close to questioning if the protagonist and male lead were siblings or not when Aokiyama slid into the seat next to his. “Psst! I need to talk to you!”
“I wish to know if Tomiko-sensei loves me,” the protagonist wrote her lament on a piece of black paper. “And if not, I wish to die!”
“Don't make that sort of wish, sister!” said the male lead. “You'll bring ruin to us all! And we’re already peasants…”
Nakamura hissed. “Not right now, it just got interesting.”
Aokiyama shot back, “Yes, right now!”
A masked man burst from the well. “Raaaghhhh! I am Amanojaku, the wishing demon! I will make your wishes come true! ALL OF THEM!”
The brother and sister screamed.
Wait, Nakamura thought. That sounds familiar.
Amanojaku. The wishing demon. At a wishing shrine.
He looked closer at the set of the shrine.
Nakamura went pale, but with a different kind of fear than suggested by the demon on screen. A fear born from an abrupt change in perspective.
He recognized that shrine. He recognized that black parchment, those white pencils. And the map they used looked just like the one that Aokiyama…
He turned slowly, catching Aokiyama's eye. He glared so hard he thought his eyes might pop out.
“Ha ha, see…th-that’s what I was trying to tell you,” she laughed nervously. “Guess I accidentally found Tamura’s props, not a real shrine or anything. We’ll find this all really funny one day.”
He ran from the room before he could find out if Tomiko loved the protagonist or not. He didn't care anymore. There was only one thought running through his mind.
I am the biggest idiot in the world.
He sank against the wall. How had this become such a mess? All he wanted to do was hang out with Icchan, read manga, and impress his crush. What made him deserve this sort of humiliation?
“Nakamura, I'm so sorry!” begged Aokiyama, following him into the hall. “I just found out, too, to be fair!”
“I must be an idiot,” said Nakamura, cold and quiet.
“No, Tamura’s the idiot, not consulting me on his horror movie project—”
“You think I really care about your will-they-won't-they right now?!”
Aokiyama gulped. “Ha, so, you aren't going to tell on me, right? I really need to keep my job…”
“Keep your stupid job, I don't care. Nothing matters anymore. If I thought Hirose would hate me before…” Nakamura curled into a small ball. “It's over.”
“What is?”
“My entire life!” Nakamura wailed. “My dream came true, and I crushed it. Now I'm living a nightmare.”
“I don’t know, Nakamura, you could always just talk to him.”
“And say what?! I completely rejected you because I only thought you liked me when other people did first?!” Nakamura cringed. “All because I believed in a stupid movie set shrine. I really am an idiot. If I tell him what I wished for, I’ll look like such a loser!”
Still curled into himself, he felt more than saw Aokiyama’s scrutiny. “And you don’t already...?”
He unfolded himself. “Got any other tricks up your sleeve, Aokiyama? Any clues on, I don’t know, time travel?”
“That’s more of a science club thing—you know, nevermind. You should probably know, he came around asking about you after school. Talked me into giving him that stupid map. Obviously if I’d known it was fake…”
Nakamura suddenly didn't care about that. He shot up, like a groundhog searching for the first sign of spring. “He asked about me?”
“Yes!” she said, annoyed.
Hirose was still trying to reach me, after all I did? Nakamura thought in wonder. Then maybe it isn’t too late to make things right.
He drew too much attention; the audience for the film festival spilled into the hall. Tamura looked furious.
“Sorry to interrupt your film, Tamura.” He bowed. “I have to go!”
He went to the high school first. It was on the way, and the soccer field mocked him until he relented.
School clubs were just letting out of their practices, so he wove through the crowd until he got to the gym office.
“Coach Niou!” Nakamura panted. “Let me back on the team!” He bowed emphatically. “Please! I know I made a huge mess of things but I realize now that-that-that I was being an idiot. I’m sorry. I want to play again!”
He was stunned by the force of his own words, as was Coach. And the boy sitting at the desk across from him.
“Ryo was just saying he was ready to come back, so unfortunately, there won't be a starting position available for you,” Coach said.
Nakamura nodded, heart sinking. He turned to leave. “Of course. I'll-I'll just go…”
“But!” Coach stopped him. “We could use a backup, in case Ryo drops a knife on his foot again.”
Ryo shrugged, not promising that he wouldn’t.
“Y-yes! Of course! Thank you, Coach!” Nakamura glowed, a smile spreading across his face. He nodded over and over. “I'll prove that I'm good enough this time.”
Coach held up a hand to cease his rambling. “No need, Nakamura. I already know you are.”
Nakamura grinned.
He thanked Coach twelve more times, then headed out again in a hurry. There was one more person who deserved an apology.
If it's true that he has the map, then I know exactly where Hirose is!
Hirose was done with petty, childish games. He was done with clues, and running away, and dodging questions. He stared at that stupid old cheap placard and thought: do I love an idiot?
His poor Nakamura, spiraling into oblivion with no one to help but a fellow insane person. He recalled the strange series of events that led to this point, with Nakamura withdrawing behind what Hirose thought was popularity. Now he could see it clearly.
How could he not tell me?! We could’ve totally figured this out, Hirose thought. But that’s not his way, is it? He works from his own set of logic. Would he really have believed me if I told him how I felt instead of just kissing him? Or would he have done the same thing, curse or not: come up with an excuse for why it was impossible.
He heard the footsteps first. Looked over his shoulder.
Nakamura stood on one side of the bridge. Breath puffed out of him in quick beats, cheeks flushed. His coat was open and exposed him to the winter chill.
Hirose stood opposite, frozen.
Nakamura's lip trembled. Then, he bowed. “The shrine wasn't real! My wish didn’t do anything. The curse was never real.” He folded into a miserable squat. “I'm so sorry. I am the most gullible idiot around. Please forgive me!”
Hirose couldn't help it. He laughed. “I can't believe you thought it was real!”
“Don't laugh, I'm being serious!”
“Well, stop apologizing.” Hirose took a step forward. “What did you wish for, Nakamura?”
Nakamura looked up. “Hah?”
“Your wish. I want to know what it was. I think it's only fair, since you rejected my confession and all…cursed the school…” Hirose teased.
“Okay, okay!” Nakamura turned bright red. “I-I…I wished to be strong and impressive. So you'd see me as a hero. Th-that's why when you kissed me, I thought that I had somehow willed it into existence.”
Hirose tapped his chin. “That does make a lot of sense. In Nakamura-logic, I mean.”
“N-Nakamura-logic?”
“Yeah!” Hirose didn't explain further; to explain would be to mess with nature, he thought. "I just wish you had told me what was going on."
"I didn't think you'd believe me."
"You're right," Hirose admitted. "But I would've helped you anyway."
Nakamura looked at him in wonder. "Really?"
“Yes! To be honest, I think you’re sort of a strange person, Nakamura. You get yourself into the weirdest situations.”
“H-hey!” Nakamura stuttered.
“But that’s what I like about you most. Not your soccer skills or your good looks; those are just a bonus. I'd follow you into a dirty tunnel system any day if it meant hanging out with you!" Hirose grinned, a challenge glinting in his eyes. "I just wish you'd stop trying to impress me, unless you're ready to follow through.”
Nakamura was speechless. And you say you're not good with words, Hirose. How can I follow that up?
Hirose stared up at him, waiting. Nakamura only had one chance to redeem himself; he couldn't waste time on cowardice any longer. He knew that nothing more he could say would convey his feelings. So he closed his eyes, and followed through.
He captured Hirose in a kiss.
Ah, they both thought at the same time. Blissful thoughtlessness.
Nakamura’s hands found Hirose’s, a blush of warmth as the wind bit their cheeks. They lost time in their kiss. Could it have been ten seconds? Minutes?
I wouldn’t mind doing this a lot longer, thought Hirose.
(!!!!!!!) thought Nakamura.
When they pulled apart, it was as though nothing had changed at all. The sunset still rippled off the creek below, the Lawsons still buzzed blue and white across the street. Nakamura still looked flushed.
Hirose laughed at his worried expression. “Walk me home?”
Nakamura agreed. “But first, just one thing.” He surged forward and wrapped his arms tightly around Hirose. “I'm so happy,” he said, muffled into Hirose's shoulder.
The embrace was a little too tight and Hirose was starting to wheeze by the end, but he let Nakamura do it for as long as he wanted.
The sun sank lower, and a chill with some bite swept over the creek.
“We should go,” said Nakamura.
“Lead the way,” said Hirose.
Hand in hand, they crossed back to the sidewalk, falling into step with the rest of the neighborhood.
“Hey.” Hirose peered up at Nakamura. “Got any Christmas plans?”
“No, I don't.”
“Wanna go to the Aqua Park? I recently came into some tickets…”
THREE MONTHS LATER
“Final call for the boys’ 1500m.”
Otogiri-sensei pulled Hirose aside. “I know you can do this. You did it in practice. Plus, you've got a pretty big audience.”
They both looked up. It was true; while track meets were often long and laborious and thus attracted minimal school support, there was a sizable crowd of green and white in the bleachers. He was glad their final meet of the school year could be on home turf.
But one person was missing.
Where's Nakamura? I hope he makes it.
Halfway through the second lap, Hirose spotted him. He was outside the bleachers in his sweatpants and hoodie, looking like he'd run the whole way. Behind him, the rest of the soccer team was making their way off the bus from their game at a much slower pace.
Nakamura gasped for air, then hollered, “GO FOR IT, USAHIRO!”
Hirose grinned. He surged forward. The last lap nearly didn't register. He hit the finish line, then looked at the clock.
Five minutes, fifty seconds.
Fourth place.
He couldn’t care less about the three runners ahead of him, or the fact that he missed the podium by less than a second. Five minutes, fifty seconds. Fourth place!
It was the best he'd ever done.
He collapsed into the grass as his teammates surrounded him. “Way to go, Hirose!”
But as soon as he caught his breath, there was only one person he wanted to see. Breaking through the crowd, Nakamura reached out to help him up.
“A new personal record! That was amazing, Hirose,” said Nakamura.
“It was easy, once I saw you were watching.” Hirose leaned up to kiss him.
“Stop showing off…” complained Oomori.
“You two make me feel lonely,” Mukai agreed.
“Not me!” said Takeuchi. “I’m taking Hamaoka to—”
“Shut up, Takeuchi!” they all chided.
Hirose wasn’t bothered by anyone looking. He was bolder about these things; it was funny to watch Nakamura get flustered by the blatant display of affection.
“How was the soccer game?” Hirose said.
Nakamura shrugged. “We won. Not like I played or anything, but the team did really well.”
“I bet just having you on the sidelines brings up everyone's morale, though!” Hirose jumped on his back, letting Nakamura carry him out of the stadium. The best part of the height difference between them was he took advantage of it now.
“Gross, you're all sweaty!”
“So are you.” He ruffled Nakamura's hair. “Take me to get some barbecue?”
“I'm supposed to go with the soccer team.”
“Hmm, I bet I can convince Coach to let the track club join…”
They both looked toward the bus. Otogiri-sensei leaned against the side, watching Coach check his clipboard one last time. His sunglasses couldn’t hide his good-natured nagging. “Can we go eat now…”
“Looks like he already invited himself,” said Nakamura. “Think Coach knows?”
Coach finished up his checklist, slung his duffel bag over one shoulder, then took Otogiri-sensei’s satchel, too. Otogiri-sensei insisted that he could carry his own bag, but Coach had none of it. “It’s the least I can do, sensei.”
Coach hadn’t meant it to sound anything but professional, surely, but he still left Otogiri-sensei flustered by the bus as he walked away.
Nakamura and Hirose shared a look, then laughed.
- FIN -