Chapter Text
Country - The place of one's birth
I have a few hazy memories from when I was really, really little, way before volleyball and school, even before I stepped foot out of the general area of my apartment. My first memory, or the earliest one I can come up with, is my mother and I sitting on the couch watching Astro Boy, this ancient anime about a robot and his adventures. I can't remember which episode it was, but Astro Boy was at a circus and there was another robot named Tornado who could fly through something that looked like an electrified Ferris Wheel. Astro Boy had to learn how to do the same thing before a show or something, but he couldn't. I really didn't like that episode. It was so vague and Tornado died. Anyway, for a while I was the only little kid in the building, and nearly every day our neighbours would come over with sweets and food. It was like my kingdom, the inhabitants of the building my subjects. But one day a new family moved in from far away, taking with them a son a year younger than I, who became the new centre of attention. Upset, I went to see who this usurper was. His name was Kenma, and he was disgusting. This greasy-haired, TV-obsessed worm had no right to be here. So I banished him. This building was mine. This city Tokyo, was my world, this country, Japan, my universe. There was nothing beyond that.
I started school in August, like nearly every other student in my country. The next year, my spirits were dampened because Greasy Kenma would be in the same school. The year was halfway over when I actually had to interact with him. It was in gym class, I think, and we were starting the volleyball unit. The teacher thought it would be a good idea to pair the loudest and most popular kid in second grade with the one a grade under who sat on a bench under a tree during recess. We were taught how to bump the ball to our partner and sent off to practice for ten minutes. Greasy Kenma actually wasn't that bad, and playing volleyball with him was kind of fun. By the end of the day I had invited him back into my kingdom, and by the end of the year we were inseparable.
At the beginning of my third year in elementary school, second grade Kenma and I signed up for the volleyball club at our school. We swore that one day we'd be good enough to maybe, just maybe fight in Nationals with people across the country. We were really bad but it was still fun, especially because we got to spend more time around each other. A lot of classmates asked me how I was able to get near Kenma, how I got him to get up from the Loser Bench and actually play. Up until then I hadn't really cared much about Kenma's social life, but this worried me. When I confronted him later he said that as long as he had me, he'd be fine. I think I might've cried.
Of course, the time for high school came around and I had to leave Kenma, to enter the shiny powerschool and meet new teammates, to drown in even more work than I did in Junior High. I missed Kenma during the day, and the time I should've been doing homework was spent sprawled out on his floor, whining about how everyone in the high school team was so much better than me. I complained about how my parents kept on pushing me to get into a higher class, how no one seemed to want to be friends with me, and how there was an annoying short libero who was the polar opposite of me. Kenma told me that he'd like to go to my high school so we could be together, and smash the annoying short kid together. That night, I came to a sudden realisation: I liked Kenma. It was scary, so out-of-the-blue, and I thought to myself, if he finds out about this he'll be too creeped out to be your friend. so I hid and stopped visiting him, played volleyball to take my mind off things, and almost completely forgot about him. Of course, it didn't last long. In my second year, Kenma came back into my life and screwed everything up again. The feeling built to the point where I told myself that by the end of next year, my third and final year, I would tell him. I would tell Kenma that I had fallen for him, then hope for the best. But when third year rolled around I found out that it would be impossible, that even if he returned my feelings we couldn't be together, because this country, my universe, wouldn't allow it.
My parents had always pushed me to do good in school, to the point where I would break down in the middle of an assignment, crawling under my ages-old carpet and inching around the room like a slug, leaving a trail of tears and mucus in my wake. I guess it payed off, as all my top choices were really good colleges in America, top in their country and top in the world. My parents sat me down the other day to talk, saying that they needed me to work extra hard this last year. But it really conflicted with volleyball, so I may or may not have followed their advice. (Hint: the latter). After my third year was over, and after bawling over leaving Kenma and the rest of the team, I decided to take a year off and travel, maybe as around about the colleges or something. I first went to Miyagi to connect with some old friends and rivals, then gradually moved west from there. South Korea was interesting. I went to a BTS concert and came up with a simple description: BTS, or Bad Tickle Soupー beautiful men, music as frail as a card house, A=460H (it's 440, dummies), no knowledge of music theory. Then I went to Beijing, where I made some friends with some people. Quite a few of them actually tried to apply for colleges in America. This was where I learned that Harvard was rejecting Asians, the reason being that there were "too many of them". The person who told me about it was a volleyball player just like me. I kept this in mind as I continued moving west, to Moscow and Stockholm, and Hamburg and Normandy. I even got to go to an Austrian village called Fucking. And then I went to California, California in America, where in a harbor I saw a boat from Japan. I eventually found myself back in my own universe, standing in front of my old kingdom. It was three in the morning and Kenma's light was on. He had once again risen early to play video games. Smiling to myself, I went up.
In the end, I was rejected from Harvard. It was great, I got a letter and everything. Two American colleges, Yale and Stamford, accepted me. I told Kenma about it, and he said that he'd miss me. No one had much to say after that. It took several seconds of thought and consideration before I decided to go to Yale. I left my kingdom again in August, landed in New York at 7:30 AM. The East Coast was so different and much cooler than California, and the way the city moved reminded me so much of Tokyo. Just duller, less colour in the neons and billboards on the ash-grey buildings. I had a strange feeling like I was at home. I reached the Grand Central Station at 8:30 AM, the great, garish thing tinted orange in the sun. The inside was terrifying and so pristine, and the vaulted ceiling was sprinkled with stars. Taking the metro wasn't very different from taking the subway in Tokyo, everyone keeping to their own business or asleep against the window. Only after the train rattled up from underground did I notice the difference. There was a distinct line between the city and the forest, separated by the Hudson River like a greasy man high on chemicals and waste, crawling his way to the sea. We passed by tall buildings, short, buildings, weird buildings, and buildings with cars on the third floor, and as we passed Juilliard I could've sworn I saw my old friend Bokuto through the glass wall. And then suddenly it was noon and II was in Connecticut, off the metro and passing though the wharf on a taxi, to the city. The driver dropped me off at a parking lot next to a brick building with stained glass windows, telling me that Yale was up and left, and to keep following the sidewalk. I watched him drive away and kept staring. I kept staring until 12:40 PM, when buses started to line the street and high-schoolers began to file off. A group jumped off their bus singing Die Flügel Der Freiheit by Linked Horizon. Taking this as a sign I began my walk to Yale, through the sea of students, and left. Unlike Tokyo and New York City, the building were stone and brick and it felt like all of it was closing in on me, watching the intruder from across the ocean. I hated it so much, like losing a match, like losing Kenma. But maybe, just maybe, I'll come to love this place. This country where the people are fat with butter and bacon, and the sky is fat with stars.