Chapter Text
Part 1: The Rise of Takomura
From June to July to August, Nakamura grew three inches. Not that Hirose was measuring. Though, the girls certainly did. It was all they could talk about for weeks once they noticed.
Unfortunately, Hirose did not grow alongside his best friend. He played along nicely when they wanted to use him as a measuring stick.
“Nakamura is practically a whole head taller than Hirose now!” laughed Okuda.
“So cool!” gushed Kawamura.
Nakamura, easy to blush, waved them off. “Ha, I wouldn’t notice that sort of thing…”
It wasn’t as if Hirose was oblivious to the sudden distance. He had to make adjustments. Like walking on the curb so he can look his friend in the eye, or speeding up to match Nakamura’s long stride. Nakamura, ever kind and self-adjusting, would apologize and slow his pace.
Hirose wanted to keep up. Badly.
So he ate his vegetables and drank his weight in protein, and even signed up for track club with the hope that perhaps maybe, if he played his cards right, he’d also be a head taller in time for Christmas. Or at least quicker on his feet.
By September, Hirose hadn’t grown an inch but could at least run a decent 1500m. Running wasn’t all that bad. He liked not thinking of anything else but moving his legs for six minutes and ten seconds.
Plus, when the weather was nice, Nakamura brought his books to the bleachers.
(When Hirose asked once why he didn’t study in the library, where the chairs are comfortable and the A/C is cool, Nakamura said he was vitamin deficient.)
On one such day, Hirose noticed his friend right when he was finishing his final lap. He was just about to say hello, maybe offer an orange from the track club’s snack cooler, when a soccer ball bonked him in the head.
“I said pass it to the middle, not drop kick it!” hollered the captain.
“How am I supposed to know what a drop kick is?! This is my first day!” said a red-faced first-year standing in the penalty box.
The captain cradled his head in his hand, aging ten years in just as many seconds. “We’re helpless…”
Takeuchi offered a cold bottle of water. “Are you okay, Hirose? Maybe we should find a new time to practice. At least until the soccer club finds a goalie that knows how to kick!” The last sentence was shouted loud enough that the soccer club surely heard.
“Oi!” hollered the captain right back. “I don’t remember the track club winning at the last meet! Or ever!”
He wasn’t wrong; they hadn’t placed all year. The truth was Hoshimi High School was cursed. Or a student must have angered a god. Whatever it was, not a single sports club had won a game yet this year. Basketball, field hockey, swimming, soccer. They were dead last in every single one.
The track club was no exception.
The last meet was a complete disaster. Their hurdlers tripped over every hurdle. Each relay baton dropped straight through their hands. Hirose, who hadn’t grown since first year, had to step in to do the long jump when their usual jumper contracted performance anxiety related nausea. He threw up all over their club advisor, who promptly quit teaching altogether.
After that, the track club lost their few remaining members. In fact, the club’s only members were Takeuchi and Hirose himself. Hirose nearly quit, too, but Takeuchi, desperate to impress Hamaoka at the only sport he was good at, had cried for him to please stay.
Takeuchi waved the captain off. “If that kid’s your only goalie, you’re just as doomed as us!”
“It’s the curse!” cried the captain. “Our usual goalie dropped a knife on his foot making breakfast.”
“Sorry!” called said goalie from the bleachers across the field.
Where Nakamura was packing up his things.
Hirose forgot all about the soccer club’s woes and the bump on his head. “Hm. Well, I should go. Good luck, soccer club!”
Since the school year started, Nakamura and Hirose made it a habit to stop at the cafe between their houses at least once a week. To study, insisted Nakamura. To watch Nakamura study, agreed Hirose.
“What are you always studying for, anyway?” grumbled Hirose. He usually ate his weight in ice cream while Nakamura buried his nose in a book. Lately he was always so secretive about what he was reading.
“Uh…n-nothing,” Nakamura stuttered, then slammed his notebook closed. “So how do you like running?”
Hirose tried not to be disappointed in the question being dodged. “It’s not too bad. I like the 1500m. Just enough running to clear my mind, but not entirely tiresome, you know?”
Nakamura laughed. “I heard your time has gotten a lot better, too!” He blushed, then looked away. “I mean, I - uh - Takeuchi mentioned it.”
“A little bit. I’m not all that competitive. I just thought it would be a good way to pass the time, you know? Hey, you should join, too!” Practice would definitely be a lot more exciting if Nakamura was around.
“Me? No, no. I’m not good at that sort of thing.”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself! You could always learn.”
“Ha, maybe.”
Hirose hated that look on Nakamura’s face. Uncomfortable, crumpled, cringing away from reality. So he dropped it. As much as he would enjoy the opportunity to be the one cheering on his friend, he’d never force the issue.
And as it turned out, he didn’t have to. The next day, gym class was held out on the field.
“It has come to my attention that the soccer club is even worse than the track club!”
“Hey!” said Takeuchi.
“Endo is here to find new members.” Coach Niou gestured to the soccer captain. The entire class groaned. “Stop crying and get in line! Except for you, Nakamura.”
Hirose could hear Nakamura gulp. “Uhm. Why?”
Coach threw a pair of gloves at him. “You’re the tallest.”
There was that look again. Nakamura nodded, then walked to the goal line like a man on death row.
“Hirose, you’re first!”
And so, with their entire class watching, Hirose placed the ball on the penalty spot and prepared to take his shot.
No! cried a voice from the very depth of Hirose’s inner thoughts. Nakamura is a gentle soul! You can’t embarrass your friend by scoring on him right away!
“Do your best, Hirose,” said Nakamura gravely.
Hirose tried to kick the ball right down the middle, he really did. Only, he wasn’t good. The ball veered toward the bottom left corner. An accidental good shot.
Just when he was about to holler an earnest apology, Nakamura did something miraculous. He threw his body across the goal line, and with a thwack, the ball came right back to the top of the penalty box.
It was very quiet for a moment. Then, after recovering from their shock, the class burst into cheers.
“You did it, Nakamura!”
“He saved it!”
“I can’t believe it!”
Hirose rushed forward, offering a hand. “That was amazing!”
Nakamura let himself be helped up. For a guy who just made a heroic save, he didn’t look all that happy. “Just luck, that’s all.”
Just like Nakamura to be so oblivious, Hirose thought warmly.
Only, it wasn’t just luck. When the next shot soared just under the crossbar, Nakamura swatted it away. Takeuchi wailed as he ran to retrieve it.
“Sorry!” cried Nakamura.
“What kind of person apologizes for that!” cried Takeuchi.
He saved the next shot, and the next, and the next. With each shot, Coach and Endo watched with more intensity, awed by the display of talent before them. Endo even had a tear in his eye.
“The way he throws himself at the ball…so ugly, but so effective!” said Endo.
“Did you know he was this good?” Coach asked Hirose.
Hirose just laughed. “No, but Nakamura is full of surprises, isn’t he?”
“My turn,” said Endo. The class watched with bated breath. Surely he’d drive it to the back of the net.
“You got this, Nakamura!” cried Hirose.
Endo nodded once, and Coach blew the whistle. He planted his foot, pulled his other back, and whacked the ball right in the upper corner. Only a skilled goalie could make the block. With an open palm and a wail, Nakamura slapped the ball away.
The clipboard slipped from Coach’s grip and onto the grass. “He can’t be stopped…” he whispered to himself.
Nakamura was so swarmed with attention after his performance that, from the outside, Hirose could only see the top of his head. The crowd only relaxed after Coach blew his whistle the third time.
Endo was brought to his knees. “Please, Nakamura,” he begged. “Please be our goalie…”
“Oh, um,” Nakamura said. “No, thank you!”
And then, he turned on his heel, and headed inside to change.
“How can he be so casual!” wept Endo.
“Control yourself, you’re a third-year,” Coach chastised.
With class dismissed, Hirose caught up to ask Nakamura, “How did you do that?”
Nakamura turned so red that Hirose was sure it had to hurt. “The thought of the ball going in was so embarrassing, my body just moved on its own.”
For a week after that class, the soccer club took turns trying to convince Nakamura to save them from themselves. The first-year forced to play goalie in the meantime was near tears as he begged for reprieve.
Hirose watched Nakamura duck away each time. “Sorry, it’s just not my thing!”
One day, Hirose overheard Coach giving one last plea. He’d stopped Nakamura by the school gate, two tickets in hand.
“Maxell Aqua Park Shinagawa?!” Nakamura said with stars in his eyes.
“I hate to be put in this position, but the soccer club is truly desperate. We…” Coach sighed, growing embarrassed. “We lost fourteen to zero yesterday. You’re our last hope.”
Hirose could see the indecision on his friend’s face, and so he had to step in. He just had to. “Go for it, Nakamura! You have to!”
Nakamura was startled. “H-Hirose!”
“You looked really cool out there. It would be a shame if you quit now.” Hirose really meant every word.
Nakamura was the kind of person who gave his all in the most invisible ways. Hirose thought that was entirely unfair, a mistake needing major correction. It was time for Nakamura to be a hero, and Hirose was going to do everything he could to support him.
And it wouldn’t hurt that Nakamura would look good in a soccer uniform. Good, as in, brave and heroic.
He tried his best to convey these feelings through a smile and a thumbs up.
Nakamura nodded, then turned to Coach. “I’ll do it!”
Hirose always had a knack for gathering troops when he needed to. So, before the next soccer game, he slipped the time and date into every conversation.
Before class…
“Kawamura, are the girls coming?”
“Of course, we all want to see Nakamura play!”
…during lunch…
“Meet me at the bleachers at six-thirty, Oomori. And bring your loudspeaker so we can cheer them on!”
…and after school.
“You’re coming to the game Saturday right, Takeuchi?”
“I said yes the last two times you asked, didn’t I?”
Hirose was glad to use his popularity for good. The more support Nakamura had behind him, the better. And the rest of the soccer club, too.
Due to his efforts, there was a sizeable crowd at Hoshimi High School’s field on Saturday night. More than the soccer team had gotten for years. Green and white flooded the bleachers.
Oomori brought his loudspeaker, but refused to be the one to use it. Hirose gladly took it.
“Do your best, Hoshimi!” his voice boomed over the crowd.
The girls joined in, chanting, “Ho-shi-mi! Ho-shi-mi!” Then the rest of the crowd. For just that moment, there was no curse.
The team took the field, though none looked ready to play. Only Endo could rally the troops to do more than drag their feet. Nakamura most of all. That’s not right, Hirose thought.
Through the loudspeaker, he shouted, “Let’s go, number one!”
Nakamura picked his chin up. For a moment, his confidence seemed as though it might peek out. Then, he saw the crowd, and turned even paler. He ducked his head once more and followed Coach to warm-up.
“He doesn’t look so good,” said Takeuchi.
“That’s just Nakamura,” said Hirose. “He’ll get better!”
Hirose was very sure of himself until twenty-five minutes into the game. As much as no one wanted to hear it, the announcer told them: “Goal, Minamino High School! Three-zero.”
Nakamura kicked the ball back to center. He’d gone red. His white gloved hands curled into tight fists.
A chill emanated from the Hoshimi bleachers.
“It was a fluke,” sighed Oomori.
“Why’s he so stiff?” complained Takeuchi.
Hirose couldn’t just watch this. He stood and used the loudspeaker again to shout, “Oi! Goalie!”
Eh? Nakamura said with the quirk of his head.
“No more goals, okay?! Be like an octopus!” Hirose waved his arms around, doing his best imitation of the animal. The girls laughed. Nakamura turned red.
“You got this, Takomura!” Hirose added.
Nakamura turned even redder.
The game started again. Much to their relief, Endo’s rage at his teammates fueled him to take the ball all the way without passing. He made a shot just under the goalie’s hand.
“Useless!” he accused his team, even as they celebrated.
The Hoshimi stands regained life. They weren’t entirely hopeless.
Then, five minutes before halftime, Minamino was fouled in the penalty box. The stadium was completely silent as the kicker set up his shot.
You can do it, Nakamura! Hirose said to himself in the quiet.
Nakamura kept his arms out wide, moving erratically up and down, up and down. The whistle went off, and the kicker surged forward.
The ball sailed to the right corner. Hoshimi held their breath until they heard that satisfying thwack!
Hirose rose to his feet first, then all the others joined. They erupted into cheers. Nakamura was a hero! No one was prouder or louder than Hirose.
“When I say TAAA-KO you say MURA. Taaa-ko!”
“Mura!”
“Taaa-ko!"
“Mura!”
Nakamura waved at them to hush up, but any nerves had been shaken out of him. The rest of the game, he protected the goal from being scored on again. Despite losing three to one, they all treated it as a win.
Hirose waited by the bleachers. He thanked all his friends for coming, as if he was part of the team himself. They agreed to meet for the next one if they were all free.
“Hirose,” greeted Nakamura. “Th-thank you for coming. You didn’t have to.”
“Of course I did!” Hirose punched his shoulder playfully. “I’m the one who told you to join, aren’t I?”
“Still! I-I couldn’t have done it without you. That was a great octopus imitation, by the way.”
Hirose laughed. “I’m glad to have helped. Want to get something to eat? I heard there’s a cafe down the street that does animal themed pancakes!”
“Uh…” Nakamura looked over his shoulder where the team was packing their equipment. “Actually, Endo wanted the team to go out to celebrate.”
“Oh!” Hirose said, a smile frozen on his face. He wasn’t sure why he was so disappointed. Maybe he was jealous because the track club never bonded like that, even when they had members. That must be it. “Then, maybe tomorrow?”
“Yes!” Nakamura agreed. “Same spot?”
Hirose nodded.
“Thanks again, Hirose,” said Nakamura. “You’re a good friend.”
Hirose beamed with joy. There couldn’t be a better compliment than that.
After that, Hirose went to every home game he could, and tried to get taller in the meantime. By the end of September, he swore he gained two or three centimeters at least.
Even though he swore he didn’t care about track, he found a growing urge to be better. With only two athletes with little guidance, their options were limited. They couldn’t do a relay with just two people, and the hurdles were an obvious no-go, so he focused all his energy on trying to place in the 1500m.
He got close, setting a personal record of six minutes three seconds. He was determined to finally get below six minutes the next day, but it was Thursday, so the soccer team had the field. No matter how much he tried to focus, he kept swiveling his gaze to watch them practice.
The defense, mostly first-years, looked more in shape than earlier in the season. Cohesive, able to connect passes. The usually shy Nakamura seemed to have no problem telling them where he needed them to be. Maybe it was because they were younger that Nakamura didn’t seem as intimidated by them.
Nakamura, standing out in his bright yellow kit among the sea of green and white, registered more as a knight to Hirose. Standing guard, stoic, ordering with his whole voice instead of the timid one Hirose had become used to. “Clear it!” hollered Nakamura. “Push up, push up!”
Way to go, Nakamura! Hirose thought. You found your voice.
“What are you doing, Hirose!” hollered Takeuchi from the finish line.
Right, he thought, running! He forgot he was running. He managed to get to the finish line, albeit in poor form.
“Seven twenty-six!” Takeuchi slapped him on the back of the head.
“Eh!” Hirose cried. “You’re taking this too seriously, Takeuchi…”
“Don’t cry to me when you sprain your ankle because your head is in the clouds!”
“And what was your time yesterday?”
“Shut up. And that’s different! You know I can’t resist girls’ field hockey.”
Hirose took a gulp of water, watching the soccer team break into smaller groups to cool down. Coach took Nakamura to a patch of grass near the goal. It must be nice to have such a serious club advisor. That must be why Hirose was so jealous when Nakamura had mentioned their team celebration. He wished their club advisor would believe in them like Coach did.
“Do you think Otogiri-sensei will show up to the meet?” Hirose asked. They had to beg Otogiri-sensei to take the role in the first place. Sometimes Hirose worried he looked a little desperate to his teacher, but it was their only shot at staying a team.
Takeuchi shrugged. “I hope so.”
“Hmm. Do you think we should try to get more members?”
“No, not really. Then we’d have a lot more pressure. Like you said, I probably take this too seriously as is.” Takeuchi clapped him on the back. “Come on. Wanna jog one more lap to cool down?”
Hirose agreed.
He pulled off his shirt, then used it to wipe away sweat before it could sting his eyes. He was about to toss it toward the bleachers, then, his feet moved for him.
“Hirose?” Takeuchi called, waiting for Hirose to join him in the outer lanes.
Hirose didn’t mean to ignore him. He just needed, or at least wanted, to say hi to his friend. That or his brain might have turned off. “Looking good, Nakamura!”
Nakamura looked up from where he was reaching for his toes. “Uh, h-hey!”
Hirose tossed the shirt on the ground outside the back post. “Do you mind if I leave my shirt here?”
“S-s-sure.”
“Thanks!”
“Hirose!” Coach stopped him. “Where is your club advisor?”
“Uh, he left early!” said Hirose.
Coach looked at him intently, searching. “Hm. Alright.”
Hirose matched pace with Takeuchi before he could be interrogated any further.
“What was that about?” Takeuchi asked.
“Oh, I think he knows Otogiri-sensei hasn’t been showing up, and—”
“Who cares about that! What did you say to Nakamura?”
“Huh? Nakamura?”
“Look at him!”
Nakamura sat on the ground, legs sprawled in an abandoned stretch. His face was buried in his hands. Coach poked his shoulder, his head. Tried to pry his hands away. But he couldn’t be moved.
And really, Hirose couldn’t recall. He just went to say hi to his friend, that’s all.
When they met for lunch that weekend, Nakamura seemed nervous. He brought along a stack of books. Biology. Math. Literature. But he didn’t open a single one, and he hardly spoke.
The quiet was just fine for Hirose. His mind was elsewhere. The weather had started cooling as October approached. Hirose wouldn’t say he noticed what clothes Nakamura wore, but he didn’t remember his friend filling out a turtleneck so nicely. If he kept getting stronger like that, he’d have no problem getting a date for Christmas.
Eh? Hirose said to himself. Why am I thinking about Nakamura’s Christmas date?
“Uh, Hirose?”
Hirose snapped back to reality. “Hm?”
“I need to tell you something.” Nakamura glanced nervously at the books in his lap.
Hirose got the feeling this was very serious, so he leaned in. “Tell me!”
Nakamura took a deep breath, then put the biology book on the table. “You asked me a while ago what I was studying. And I couldn’t answer.”
Hirose nodded.
“But I can now.”
Hirose nodded faster.
“It’s because I…” Nakamura paused, clearly struggling to speak. “I…!”
Hirose was on the edge of his seat. “You..?!”
Nakamura suddenly stopped. He slapped a hand over his mouth, then ducked. “Oh no, don’t let her sit here.”
“Huh?” Hirose looked around frantically. “Who?”
“Aokiyama.”
A girl with blue hair bounded toward them. She slid into the booth next to Nakamura, barely giving Hirose a second glance. “Ha! I knew my tracker worked! All it took was a strand of your hair and a little luck. Nothing the occult club couldn’t manage in a day.”
“You're not even a student anymore, you shouldn't be hanging around the occult club!" hissed Nakamura. "And can’t you see I’m busy?”
“Hi!” greeted Hirose.
“I need to borrow your friend,” said Aokiyama, who didn’t wait for an answer before dragging Nakamura outside.
Hirose couldn’t hear them, but it looked like a spirited discussion. As they talked, Hirose saw the biology book still waiting on the table. Nakamura was going to say something, before. What was it? Was it really just about schoolwork?
Curious, Hirose opened the cover. The contents did not match the sleeve. In gothic font, written across the page: Curses & How to Break Them.
Hirose stared in shock. Was this what Nakamura was doing all along? Trying to break the curse? But then, why wouldn’t he tell Hirose sooner? He could have helped.
The door opened and he quickly shut the book again. Aokiyama marched Nakamura back to the table where he collected his things.
“I-I’m sorry, Hirose, I have to go. See you at the game Saturday, right?” Nakamura pleaded more than asked.
Hirose nodded. There was no point in needling Nakamura any further with Aokiyama hovering. “I’ll be there after the track meet!”
“Good luck, Hirose,” Nakamura said.
“You too. Maybe we can break this curse.”
Nakamura’s grip on his backpack tightened just a little, tension building in his shoulders, but Aokiyama yanked him out of the cafe before he could say anything else.
Hirose and Nakamura were both too busy with their respective clubs to discuss what happened. In fact, Hirose only saw Nakamura in passing at school. Even during lunch it seemed they could never find each other. He figured he'd have to wait until after the game to ask Nakamura what was going on.
Curse or no curse, all he could focus on was his nerves. He’d never been nervous about track once in the three months he’d been doing it. But that Saturday, standing on the curb outside the stadium with Takeuchi, he found his stomach turning.
Every other school had at least ten or twenty students in their track club. Hirose and Takeuchi watched them march by with their coaches. Unable to proceed without their club advisor, they searched the parking lot for Otogiri-sensei.
“He’s not gonna come!” Takeuchi complained.
“He will!” asserted Hirose.
Events went by without a sign of their teacher. Their hope slowly dwindled. Then came the waft of tobacco, and: “I’m here, calm down.”
“Hirose’s event is in five minutes!” cried Takeuchi.
“Better get going then, right?”
The two sprinted to the track just as the first heat lined up for the 1500m.
Takeuchi slapped Hirose on the back twice. “You got this!”
Hirose took his place, and heard his name called from the bleachers. Nakamura waved at him with a kind smile. The rest of the soccer club was with him. Even Coach gave an encouraging thumbs up.
Hirose grinned and waved back.
“Go for it, Hirose!” they hollered. “Make us proud!”
Hirose nodded, promising to do his best. He got into position. Cleared his mind. The buzzer went off, and so did he.
He had never been so blissfully thoughtless. He stayed in the middle of the pack the first lap, then the second.
In the burn of his legs, the speed of the wind on his face, he knew he was doing the best he could. The curse couldn’t stop him!
Halfway through the final lap, he began to slip. It was as if his legs had become lead. No matter how hard he pushed, his best wasn’t enough. His opponents got further and further ahead.
Six minutes, two seconds. Last place.
He cursed himself for not pushing harder in practice, for being so casual about it all. It was one thing when no one ever came to watch them, but this time he felt like he let down the entire school.
Otogiri-sensei waited with a water bottle, ignorant to his despair. “Hey, good job kid! Better than last time…right?”
Through the sting of sweat, or tears, Hirose laughed. “Right!”
Otogiri-sensei watched him for a beat, then sighed. “Takeuchi’s event is up in about twenty minutes. Want to watch with your friends?”
The soccer team. Right. They all waited in the stands. He should go thank them for coming. All Hirose could think about was how embarrassed he was. “Sure.”
They approached the bleachers, and before anyone could utter another word, Coach immediately snapped: “You could show up and encourage them at practice, you know.”
Otogiri-sensei laughed him off. “You take this all too seriously, Niou.”
“Maybe if you were more present, your kids would try harder.”
Ah, Hirose thought through his already weak smile. That hurt, even if he didn’t want to admit it. “It’s alright, Coach. We don’t care that much about track anyway!”
He felt all eyes on him, and he wasn’t sure if they were buying his act. It wasn’t an act, he told himself, he really didn’t care about track. It was just a way to get stronger. Faster.
“I have to go to the bathroom, but thank you all for coming!” Hirose bowed. “I’m sorry I didn’t do better.”
And, though he wouldn’t phrase it as running away, that was what he did. He took his sweet time washing up, splashing away the sweat. When he returned, the team was gone. All that was left was Otogiri-sensei, who lounged on the bleachers looking bored.
“Too bad they left before Takeuchi’s event,” said Hirose.
“Sorry, kid,” said Otogiri-sensei. He handed over a card. “They all had to go get ready for the game, but Nakamura told me to give you this.”
On the front, a generic you got this! in a bold, colorful font. Inside, there were two stickers: a cartoon octopus, and a cartoon rabbit.
Underneath, they were labeled Takomura + Usahiro.
Then, in different ink, as if he had asked someone for a pen and etched it in a hurry, Nakamura had added: Congratulations on the personal record!
Hirose clutched the card, heart full of pride. How could Nakamura be so nice?
“Well, at least we both got last.” Takeuchi slid on the bleachers next to him. He peered over his shoulder. “Hey, no one made me a card.”
“You didn’t break a personal record,” Otogiri-sensei said. “Except for the slowest time.”
“Hey!”
“I’m kidding.”
“It’s not my fault we’re cursed…”
Hirose tuned them out. He couldn’t stop staring at the stickers, and more importantly, the way Nakamura had drawn a little squiggle underneath to emphasize each nickname. Hirose could imagine his deadpan delivery of the nicknames. Serious, but very unserious. They hadn’t been able to hang out much lately and he missed these little quirks of Nakamura’s.
He traced the words personal record with his thumb. Any shame he felt at losing turned to pride.
He thought of the octopus plushie sitting in his room. He meant to save it for Nakamura’s birthday, but something about tonight felt right.
An hour later, Hirose dragged an armful of school pride through the stadium gates. A Hoshimi High School baseball cap, his Takomura sign, the megaphone, the plushie. Takeuchi followed behind, picking up anything that toppled out and placing it back in the pile.
Kawamura made space for all Hirose’s merchandise. “You really went all out today, Hirose!”
“Is it too much?”
“Not at all!” Kawamura smiled. “It’s really nice, actually. So, what cheer should we do first?”
Using the megaphone, Hirose led the fans in their school’s song and a few chants before the teams took the field.
Nakamura looked especially confident tonight. He was so focused as he got into position that he probably couldn’t hear a thing. He rocked back and forth in a squat, then jumped up and down.
Overwhelmed with pride for his friend, Hirose brought the megaphone up to start the Nakamura chant.
He heard a sharp laugh behind him.
“Does that guy know Nakamura or something?” said a third-year to her friend. “He’s always at every game.”
“Oh no, I hope poor Nakamura didn’t pick up a stalker!”
Kawamura heard them, too. She twisted around in a fury, but unfortunately, her attempts at a glare were met with further laughter. She huffed. “They don’t understand.”
Hirose lowered the megaphone. Kawamura was right. They probably just didn’t understand. Either way, his cheer was stolen from him. The game started before he could utter a word.
Five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen and neither team scored or shot. Hirose cheered with the crowd when their team won the ball, but otherwise tried not to stand out.
“Hirose? Are we going to do another cheer?” asked Kawamura. “It might lift everyone’s spirits.”
Behind him, he heard giggling. Hirose didn’t usually mind, but he felt like he was being watched. He didn’t want to do anything that made him seem obsessed.
Kawamura noticed his sudden awkwardness. “I have an idea. Let’s cheer for Nakamura together.”
Hirose nodded. “Alright.”
The next time Nakamura made a block, Kawamura brought the megaphone up for both of them. “When we say TAAA-KO you say MURA! Taaa-ko!”
“Mura!” the students cheered.
“Taaa-ko!”
“Mura!”
Nakamura looked to the stands, and to Hirose’s great delight, he shot them a smile. No more cowering at their attention. He offered two thumbs up. The student section was brought back to life.
And then, half-time. The score was still zero to zero, which made it Hoshimi’s best game of the season so far. Hirose joined the others in grabbing a snack from the concessions.
“Hey, you,” said a voice to his left. Dry. Short dark hair. That same stare. It must be Nakamura’s sister.
Hirose pointed to himself. “Me?”
“Yeah, duh. Come here.” She motioned him forward and he followed. The only spot that she deemed private enough was between the bleachers and the school fence. “What’s the deal, shrimp?”
“Hah? Shrimp?! You’re the one who dragged me back here!”
“I heard someone at this school’s been stalking my brother.”
“What’s with everyone saying it like that…” Hirose shook his head and thoughts. “I’m not a stalker or obsessed or anything! I just really support him. Because we’re friends!”
Her eyes narrowed. “Friends?”
Hirose gulped. “Yes. If…if that’s okay?” Under her withering glare, he was suddenly very unsure.
“Okuto is a sensitive guy, you know,” she said. “You can understand why I might be a little worried about all this sudden attention.”
“I-I know.”
“And if you’re the one that’s brought it on him…”
“Oh, well, I really didn’t—”
“You better be prepared for when it goes south.”
Hirose didn’t know what to say to that. He tried to find the polite way out of this conversation.
“Shh. Don’t talk.” She pressed one finger to his mouth. He froze.
Then, she was gone.
What just happened? Hirose mused.
While Hirose tended to his bruised ego and heart, it seemed Nakamura had completely come into his role. The second half, he dominated. They had never seen such athleticism. Even the opponents watched in awe.
“He’s so focused!” mused Kawamura.
The game ended with no score. A Hoshimi High School victory! Hirose celebrated with the others, but said no when Takeuchi invited him to go out. He wanted to just say hello to Nakamura and get some sleep.
He left his over the top merchandise in the bleachers. All except for the octopus plushie he clutched in his hands, waiting to give it to his friend.
Nakamura met his sister by the sideline first. Hirose stayed back, giving them a polite distance. And himself a safe one.
Not stalking! he told himself. Waiting!
Not eyeing the sweat sticking to Nakamura’s hair, slick when he pushed it out of his eyes. His shoulders, sturdy under the armor of his uniform that stuck to his torso.
An image popped into Hirose’s head: Nakamura flying into battle atop a horse. Instead of a bright yellow goalkeeper jersey, he was donned in iron and brandished a sword. Ready to fly into combat.
‘Fight with me, Hirose!’
“Ehhh!” Hirose smacked his forehead, one-two-three times. Then again for good measure. What was he thinking? That kind of daydream did nothing to disprove those third-years. Or Nakamura’s sister.
He looked up to find the two staring at him. He waved weakly. Much to his humiliation, Nakamura’s sister keeled over in laughter. Nakamura merely hid behind his hands.
It was as if they heard his thoughts directly. What if they had? Was that even possible? Why was his face hot, his eyes itchy?
Calm down, Hirose, he thought. You’re acting like a little kid with a crush…
He froze. Eyed the plushie. It stared right back. Would you give just any friend a plushie? it seemed to ask. Or is he different?
How am I supposed to know! Hirose wanted to respond.
Feeling small and out of place, like an invasive species of shrimp, he promptly turned on his heel and booked it out of the stadium. Nakamura was so worried about being embarrassed in front of his sister, but it was Hirose running in shame.
The octopus plushie lay forgotten on the ground in his wake.
What Hirose didn’t know was that Nakamura hadn't spoken to his sister in the throes of victory, but the valleys of despair.
“No, no, no, no…” he moaned into his hands. “We were supposed to lose! It should be over. She promised!”
She wasn’t listening. “Your stalker is watching, by the way.”
“Kana…” Nakamura whined. He expected to see Aokiyama watching. Ever since she tracked him to the cafe, he'd become more than a little skeptical of her. With great relief, it was Hirose waving from the bleachers. What a great friend! Nakamura admired. Then, he felt ill. If he finds out what I did, he'll never forgive me. All that progress, being best friends, ruined.
At the sight of his sudden panic, Kana burst out laughing. Nakamura hid behind his hands. By the time Kana stopped, Hirose was gone.
"You scared him away." Nakamura accused.
“Whatever. Explain what you meant before, about how you're supposed to lose? Is that some sort of I'm Okuto, woe-is-me thing? Because it's getting a little old.”
She was grinning, like it was all a joke, but there was nothing to laugh about.
Nakamura took her by the shoulders. “You're not getting it! It’s me, Kana. I’m the one who cursed Hoshimi High School.”