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Takahiro can't deny he had hoped to play against Samejima Fubuki in the Koshien. He had hoped that neither would be eliminated beforehand, this time.
But of course it meant that only one of them could go further in the tournament, and it's not Takahiro. The joy of competing against such a great player - it was real, his balls describing unbelievable moves, their rapt faces each wearing half of the same smile. But now it wears a bitter crown.
Aramaki is exhausted, too much even for more comfort from and for his comrades. He's sitting on a bench, his head tilted back, looking at the sky. It feels a little bit like the end of the world.
He doesn't see the girl approach, but when she arrives in his field of vision, a huge smile on her face, he can see that she's more beautiful than the sky. She has long black hair, and a gracefulness that seems to inhabit the smallest of her moves.
"Aramaki Takahiro!" she says, her dulcet voice clear, though her eyes are lowered demurely. "I'm one of your fans, and I'd like to take a photograph with you."
"I lost," he answers. He doesn't know how a fan managed to get here. She's good at climbing, social skills, or she just has connections. He thinks about asking for her name. He would have if he had won. "You'd rather ask Samejima for a photograph."
There are other players in the team, and they're even good, but they don't have Samejima's talent. Also he's got a beautiful face and a very wide smile, a girl should be able to see it.
"That's why I'm here," she says.
"Are you trying to comfort me?"
"I was thinking that you would no longer be in the tournament, so it was my last chance. But yes, I would like to comfort you. You played an excellent game. Or does that make it worse? Is it unfair?"
She feels both very self-assured and trembling, like she's a goddess who doesn't belong to this world and knows it. Aramaki thinks about asking her for a kiss on the cheek, for comfort, and feels immediately disgusted at himself.
"No, it doesn't make it worse," he says. "But you're a fan. You would say that anyway."
"That might be true. But I really think you were even better than usual. You know what? Come with me, let's ask Samejima."
"What?"
"You mentioned him immediately, you must trust his opinion. And this way, I can also get a photo with him."
Takahiro shouldn't follow her. He should keep the memory of her like a dream. Does he want to see her talk with Samejima, be as charming to him as she was to Takahiro?
But also, it's tempting to actually talk to Samejima. He didn't dare before. Because he lost. Maybe it was stupid? There are no ties in baseball, and maybe the winner and the loser shouldn't stay forever separated by fate. He wonders if he would have dared, if he had won. Probably not; he wouldn't have wanted to humiliate him.
"I'll show you the way," he says.
He talks fast, looking sideways at her. She's even more graceful than when she was standing. She's a fairy fallen from the sky, to get him to talk to Samejima.
"It's the first time that I've come to see a real game," she says. "My family doesn't approve of it, they're very serious people. But you were playing against each other, so I insisted very much. I'm not sure it can happen again."
So she had already liked Samejima? Takahiro can't really resent her for having taste. Maybe he even takes her proclamations about him playing well a bit more seriously. Also, she still sounds like a fairy visiting the human world.
"I'm sure you were convincing," he says.
"Convincing enough to take a photo with you?"
He laughs. It's the first time he's laughed since he lost - he's so dramatic, it hasn't been an hour. Still, it feels important.
"Why not?"
She takes from her bag an old camera, not a telephone. He's almost surprised. He hasn't seen one like that for a while. She still plans to take the photograph with one hand, barely aiming, though. They have to get close for this. The day is hot, and he still feels like he can feel the warmth of her skin, even without touching.
And already they're on the other side of the field. Takahiro didn't feel embarrassed until now, but he suddenly wonders what he should say. Would it be easier if he was alone?
"Aramaki!" Samejima shouts. "I'm so glad you came! I've been wanting to meet you. Oh, is this your girlfriend?"
Aramaki feels himself becoming bright red. If she wasn't so pretty, it would be easier to tell the truth, that he just met her, but he wants to bathe in this illusion for a few more seconds.
"I'm not!" the girl says. "I'm a fan of him - and of you! My name is Mitsuru, I'm glad to meet you. Don’t introduce yourself, I know your name. That's what fans do."
For Takahiro, she was a celestial creature. For Samejima, she suddenly has a name, like a human person. Takahiro is a bit jealous, but just a bit. He's a dreamer. He feels like he has gotten the best part of her.
"Tell him he played well," she says. "He won't believe me. Tell him it's the best he has ever played."
Samejima looks at him, then shows his easy, warm smile.
"You played well," he says. "But you weren't at your best. Otherwise you would have won."
Mitsuru - as it's her name - pouts.
"I absolutely need a photograph with both of you," she says. "to compensate for having to listen to you both being against me."
Why does it seem weirder than taking a photograph just with her? Or even watching her take a photograph with just Samejima? She calls someone to help (she gets what she wants). They're talking about baseball in the meantime. Samejima puts his hand around his shoulder. Mitsuru's hair smells like flowers.
Takahiro feels like he's at the edge of something very happy, but that he can't really get it, and it feels like the end of the world.
"This one must have gifts in it," the baseball club’s advisor teacher comments.
Takahiro does receive fanmail through the school sometimes. He doesn't answer them, he doesn't have the time; they would like better for me to train, he thinks, when he feels guilty about it.
The envelope is very nice quality, and seems to contain some cardboard. It smells like flowers, and Takahiro thinks about Mitsuru even before opening it.
There's the photo of her, and Samejima, and him, inside. But not only this. There's a flyer about a dancing spectacle - and Mitsuru is in almost all the photographs.
On the white square on the back, someone has written a date, and come and see me dancing. And there is one ticket. There's no price on it, it's labelled with "guest", but it looks expensive.
She has such bad handwriting, Takahiro thinks, finding this so cute, and that's when he knows how far gone he is.
I shouldn't, he thinks, if I go I'll fall for you.
Of course he goes anyway.
He has one of the best seats in the room, he can see the scene so well – and also, he's next to Samejima. He’s very happy to see him, before realising they're rivals for Mitsuru’s heart. Of course they have to be.
But he's happy to see him.
Since last time, Samejima’s team lost too, before arriving in the finals. If there was ever a wall stopping them from talking as equals, as friends, it's gone now.
“I’m glad I was able to play you at least,” he says, after quite formal and embarrassed greetings, and it unlocks something. This directness echoes in Takahiro's heart.
“I wish we could have played in the same team, though,” he asks.
Samejima looks at him with curious eyes. “Are you inviting me for some training for fun, or suggesting we should become professionals? I might be up for both.”
“I wasn't thinking that far,” Takahiro says, feeling his cheeks heating. “It was more about a wish or a dream.” And now, he's thinking about her. “Maybe we shouldn't talk about baseball here?”
“She could have given us separate places,” Samejima answers. “I think she's okay with it. It seems the kind of thing she would do.”
He’s probably right.
Or course they stop chatting as soon as the dance starts. It's only polite. But once Mitsuru starts dancing the crane wife, Takahiro isn't sure he would have been able to talk anyway.
She's not a fairy, probably, but she's beautiful enough to play one, and she looks like she can fly. Or even better, give all the people watching her the feeling they're flying. She's a crane wife and she's in love.
Takahiro isn't sure he ever cared about dance until today. He might not care for any other dance after this one, ruined forever and happy to be.
Mitsuru comes to them after the spectacle, invites them to stay for tea. Takahiro is overjoyed, but Samejima frowns.
“What game are you playing, lady? Why both of us?”
She turns towards him, a smile on her lips. “Who knows? Maybe it's easier to pretend I gave invites to and took the tea with just friends when there are both of you and my parents won't complain. Or maybe when I watched your games I just badly wanted you to be friends.”
“I’d say you know,” Samejima answers.
“I can be complicated,” Mitsuru jokes.
“Well, as long as you're not organising a private tournament in your head to see which one of us gets to date you, it's alright to me. Are you that complicated?”
“If someone is setting that up it's only you.”
If she was, Takahiro thinks, if they were, Samejima would be winning by now. Mitsuru clearly loves the debate, and she laughs, showing her very white teeth. She's no longer a fairy right now, no longer hiding her smile behind her wings.
And then they're having tea, and they're talking about the story, about the crane wife's despair. If Mitsuru knew despair, she says, she would dance so much better. She's a bit curious. But she's also selfish and she doesn't want to.
Takahiro can't say if Mitsuru and Samejima are as bewitched by the conversation as he is. They're all having fun, and when he remembers that it could be seen as a competition he’s probably losing, but it never lasts.
In the end, they have to go their separate ways, and after all these pleasant moments Takahiro manages to remember, among all others, Samejima's offer.
“Wait,” he says, “I can't promise you a team or a game and I certainly can't become a pro right now, but would you like to throw a few balls next weekend?”
And because he would hate it if they had a date and he was left out, and because he wants to see her forever, he turns to Mitsuru and offers “You can come too, if you want to watch,” even if he's afraid she will laugh and say it's not worth her time. Even Samejima, despite his smile, could say no, could have other obligations even if he wanted to come.
But no such misfortune happens. They find a date, and if Mitsuru will have to anger her parents again, she says nothing about it, and Takahiro will not feel like the world is ending for a long time.
If I see him strike one more of my balls again, Takahiro thinks, I might fall in love with him.
This should seem a sacrilegious thought while Mitsuru is here, so joyful and beautiful and having all the fun in the world.
Takahiro's parents brought ice cream for everyone. Takahiro, seeing how kind they are to his guests, feels a joy he can't understand.
Takahiro wonders if you can be in love with two different people. And whether it's easier or harder when they're dating each other. They're not, but he sometimes thinks they should.
“Aren't you bored?” Fubuki asks Mitsuru.
“Oh no, I love watching you,” she says.
“I’m glad your parents let you come,” Takahiro says.
“They didn't! I just told you I could make it, but I'm meant to be at the hairdresser's right now. I’m not reasonable at all.”
“But you already have perfect hair!” Takahiro says.
She laughs, looks him in the eye. “Maybe it’ll be less perfect next week. Make it worth my while!”
Her smile is very wide and Takahiro's heart is beating very fast. He gets close to her, slowly, looking for any sign of discontent on her face. Then he kisses her head. On her perfect hair, smelling like flowers.
Takahiro should be the happiest person in the world; also he should probably think about kissing her lips. But he can’t help turning towards Fubuki, worried, almost guilty.
“You were playing a game,” he tells Mitsuru, coldly.
“It was more important to me, but you could say this. I shouldn’t disparage games in front of you,” she answers. “Freedom is its own kind of game, but it’s not a competitive one. Not to me, anyway.”
It takes a few seconds for Takahiro to understand this, and just one to feel like he should feel bad about it, but right now he only wonders if Fubuki will be mad about this, or if they can all be very happy.
“It's still a game you're winning,” Fubuki answers, but he's smiling.
He walks to her and kisses her hand. Takahiro is kissing her hair again.
Mitsuru caresses Fubuki’s cheek and lays a chaste kiss on his lips. Then she does the same to Takahiro. The air is heavy with love and hope and the tension of the unexpected.
Takahiro doesn't think he could have done this otherwise.
This is putting his hand on Fubuki's shoulder, and kissing his cheek, and hoping.
Fubuki kisses back, and for a short moment the future stops mattering as the present is perfect.
Takahiro feels the world become fuzzy around him, and then a sharp pain in his hand - so he went from dream to reality, and not the reverse.
“Are you there? Can you answer?” Oh yes, it's Gengorou. Part of Takahiro’s place in this new beautiful and terrible, devastated world. Reality insists on being remembered, tearing up veils in his mind, and it's so tiring…
He wants his dream back.
“You need to always be cautious handling the spiders! Even the small ones!”
"He’ll live.” Takahiro recognises Ban's voice. “He probably had nice dreams, and he barely got himself chewed. Your spiders’ venom seems to have mutated again. I wonder if you could breed them into making good anaesthetics.”
This time, Takahiro fully understands what happened, and how serious the consequences of his lack of attention could have been.
No, there's still a thing he doesn't understand: why them? Why Fubuki and Mitsuru? He didn't even know he remembered their faces. He hopes his hallucination did them justice.
His heart says it did (the ice cream flavour was surprisingly right).
He didn't wish for this at the time, but he would have if his heart had been strong enough for hope and mature enough for unbounded love.
He could have had an ideal dream with Ayu and Gengorou, who he has now. If it's about still desiring a past you never had, it could have been about Hana. But of course the answer is simpler.
No matter the purpose and friendship and love he found here, in his most beautiful dreams, the world doesn't end.