Akira Sato

The particular teammate in front of him tended to keep to himself most of the time as far as Adam could tell. They didn’t interact much and more often than not, Adam didn’t even notice him, not that it wasn’t hard to go unnoticed by Adam. He was self absorbed, more concerned with what was right in front of him than anything else and Akira had never made much of a point to toss himself in Adam’s line of sight. That was before of course. Adam outwardly hoped Akira didn’t plan on making a habit of his. 

“You’re a team.” He corrected. “I’m just here till someone else decides I’m not anymore.” It was vague and he didn’t plan on explaining. At this point, things could go any which way. While Texas was Adam Sr.s main concern, he would settle with Adam being anything but a fox. There was also Wymack who could let Adam go whenever he wanted. Either way, Adam didn’t imagine staying was a strong possibility. 

“Are you def?” He was getting fed up with the conversation, with the requests to explain himself. “I said no.’

“That’s such bullshit.” Akira said, pushing himself back into a standing position, arms crossed across his chest. What kind of person plays a team sport with that kind of attitude? The Foxes weren’t your traditional sort of team but even then, Akira was pretty sure Adam was the only one who played like that. He furrowed his brow and shook his head. “That’s not how a team works. Or, at least, works well. If you don’t play like you belong...which, you do, by the way. You’re only going to drag us down. And we don’t need that shit right now.”

“Wymack wouldn’t have let you join the Foxes if he didn’t think you were going to be a long term investment.” Wymack wasn’t like that. The Foxes might be fucked up, but they weren’t a revolving door of fucked up. It insulted Akira a little bit that Adam seemed to look at it that way. “Put some damn clothes on and lets go. No way am I going to let you not come. We won. Let’s celebrate like you actually cared. Fake it till you make it, right?” He opted to ignore his deaf comment, fully aware his insistence would be more than enough answer for Adam. Fleetingly he hoped Adam wouldn’t up and deck him for it.

McKenna didn’t want to do something boring for Halloween, like a cat or a cookie or any of those costumes that just required a tee-shirt and a headband. She had developed some talent with makeup over the past few years and wanted to explore that this time around. She instantly got the idea after seeing It last weekend, in between screaming and being in awe at the kids’ talent. Female Pennywise. Before the game, she made sure to make a Target run, collecting the makeup she’d need that she didn’t already have, as well as a red wig and a dress and accessories that she could turn into a clown outfit. It took two hours to do the makeup, but she had to admit the end result was impressive. She went for a mix of creepy and cute, choosing the dress over the full clown costume. She used a picture of Bill Skarsgard as a reference and managed to make the makeup nearly identical. 

She didn’t think about comfort, until she was in the thick of the party–her makeup itchy on her face and melting a bit from the heat of the crowded room. The wig also made her scalp practically scream for relief. Otherwise, it was the most fun she had at a part so far, being surrounded by the Foxes and Vixens and seeing everyone’s costumes. She got a lot of compliments on hers, herself. As she made her way to the kitchen for a drink, she saw Akira and waved, his request caused her to let out a laugh before she could help herself. “Sure, as long as you hold this for me for a second,” She snorted as she took his wrist in her hands and tied her red balloon she was carrying around it. 

She grabbed him a coke and opened it for him, passing it back to him without untying the balloon from his wrist. “Now, you’ll float too,” She grinned before pausing to take in his outfit, not really getting what he was dressed as. “Are you Akira but more sore than usual?”

“Damn, girl. You went all out. And, for a creepy ass clown you’re looking pretty hot.” He smiled at her and held out the can to her. “As for me...no. I am not a more sore Akira. I’m Justin Kimura. I stole some of my stuff from set for nostalgia purposes...turned out to be a great last minute Halloween costume.” He laughed and lifted his balloon up  so it bobbed around above his head. “Does me having this make me special? Maybe I can use it to help me hold up my can as the night goes on. Because something tells me I’m going to need all the help I can get in a few hours.” He’d popped a few Advil before heading out but he doubted they’d make much difference.

Akira took another second to admire McKenna’s costume, curious as to how long she’d been planning it, if she’d planned it at all. His sister Naomi would have loved it. “Hey. Wanna take a picture with me? My sister would love your costume. And I promise not to post it to social media unless you want me to.” He dug his non-ballooned hand into his pants pocket to pull out his phone, smiling cheekily at McKenna. His agent would love a photo like that on the internet but he didn’t want McKenna to feel uncomfortable, although if anyone could tell it was her under all that make-up he’d be surprised.

“Have I told you yet how much of a hero you are? I blew my arms out practicing and now everything hurts. But whatever you do with that information don’t you dare tell Abby. She’ll probably rip me a new one and I am not about that life.” He smiled at her. “Enjoying the party? Find any cats?”

Kent really shouldn’t have had any beef with Akira; they had a lot of opportunities where they could possibly share the court, or at least be paired up for practice drills, so out of all people he probably should have kept his cool around, it would have been wise to have made it the guy he would have to hone his skills with. But that wasn’t how Kent’s temper worked. He thought he would have had at least a few more moments of alone time to avoid his teammates before someone ultimately found him and dragged him off either to bed or to some party (because dagers were a thing now, meaning there was a reason to party no matter what time it was), and that was his first line of defense: avoiding. Just like he could do on the court, where he could easily shoulder past bodies, light on his feet as he zipped towards the goal. When that didn’t work, he fought, like he did now with Akira, and like he did in the game when the backliners decided to drop their sticks.

“Jeez, no nickname sits well with you, huh? Still doesn’t mean you’re not here for a reason,” Kent replied with an eye roll as he gestured to the space they stood in. His eyes tried not to look in the other striker’s direction, but they couldn’t help but glance to challenge the other Fox at his next words, which made Kent scoff. “Obviously you care if you want to know, but trust me, a dead bug up my ass is the least of my problems. Not when Wymack’s up there, too. I can’t exactly let shit go if he’s gonna keep bringing it up.” But, then again, Kent had a hard time letting things go. He could avoid them as long as he wanted to, sure, but in the end, it would all creep up on him and eventually consume him, like the guilt that had been plaguing him for so long.

“I don’t like nicknames.” Akira explained, not looking up at Kent, afraid if he did he’d say something he’d regret. “We’re given a name for a reason. And my parents did not name me superstar.” The last word dripped with sarcasm and he scoffed silently. He hated that word more than he probably should, but if you were to ask him it was all for a good reason. “I already told you. I came down here to do my homework. A change of scenery always gives me that extra burst of drive. And since half the teams in this place are gone today and I don’t have to listen to some stupid TV show.” He wasn’t sure why he felt the need to explain himself to Kent. He could have ignored him entirely and not felt bad about it at all. The common room was open to everyone and Kent was being an asshole for literally no reason. 

Akira finally looked up, dropping his pen onto his notebook with a clack. “You do realize Wymack is the coach right? It’s his job to be up our asses about shit we’ve fucked up on. Wouldn’t make him a very good coach if he didn’t. Besides. It’s not like he doesn’t have a reason to be up there in the first place. And of course I care. I’m your friend.” Friend was a loose term but teammate sounded a little contrived to Akira. He resisted the urge to go back to working on his notes, unwilling to back down in the argument. Pissy was okay, understandable even, but he wasn’t going to let Kent walk all over him or Wymack. “You can accept the criticisms and move on with your life or you can sit down here and stew and be a douche canoe to everyone who wants to use the damn common room. Up to you.”

He’d spent the night sprawled out and half dressed, on the team couch. Too tired and worn out to pick up the balls off the court, let alone himself. It wasn’t until a...disgruntled Wymack woke him up the next morning that Akira felt the least bit okay with pulling his sorry butt off the couch. And he ached. He’d catch hell from Wymack and Abby once they found the state he’d left himself and the court in. For now? All he wanted to do was sleep. Ignoring his care altogether he walked back to Fox tower where he promptly slept the rest of the day. 

He’d had little no intentions of going to the Vixen’s party that evening. Not in the mood to deal with the roller coaster that was a party. He didn’t even have a costume. He’d meant to pick one up but it had never happened. Too busy with school and exy for it to rank too highly on Akira’s priority list. But bored out of his mind as he was Akira was finding less and less reasons to lie there and not go. And the threat of pissing off Vivian loomed over him too. If rumors were to be believed crossing her was not advised. Pulling himself out of bed and throwing open his closet Akira considered his options and finally settled on going as himself...sort of.

He arrived at the Vixen den fashionably late and walked in like he lived there. He smiled at the first person he saw and nodded. “If you’re a good friend you should hand me Coke and not laugh at me when I ask you to open it for me.” He was pretty sure he could hold onto the can for a long period of time by his hip, but he wasn’t so sure about getting his fingers to move nimbly enough to pop the tab. “What do you say? You down?”

He remembers walking into the Foxhole Court, wide-eyed at its size, how pristine it all was, from the floors to the rows and rows of seats to the gleaming white-and-orange paint. Now, having lost count of the number of stadiums he’s been in, from the teams of their district while he was a Fox to the too-few professional courts he’d seen as a Cyclone, it’s become normal, something he hardly even notices. He still loves it, still feels like he never wants to leave it, but it’d different. Before, he’d felt a little bit like he felt when he was younger, walking into nice foster homes, knowing that it wasn’t for him, and then eventually he’d be made to leave. Now, it feels like none of those homes ever had—it feels like home. 

There were times that it had been him with a bucket of balls after practice—not that it had ever made much of a difference, all the extra practices in the world hadn’t been enough for the Foxes to make it to Championships when Brandon was on the team. He understands the appeal. But he does mean what he said: the Foxes’ practices are tough enough, probably even tougher than he remembers them being since they have a new sense of purpose and possibility, and he can’t help but worry about them tiring themselves out, running themselves into the ground—there’s still a whole lot of season left. And, since they’re still on track to make it there, Championships after that.

But for all the time he still spends at the court, he spends very little of it on the court proper. During practices, he’s on the outside of the Plexiglass once the doors close for scrimmages and drills; after it, he spends most of his time in the office next to Wymack that he and Sebastian share. Even now, he pauses in the doorframe of the court doors, like he’s wary of going any further. “You’ve had a good season so far,” he says—because it’s true, Akira’s scored a point in each of the Foxes’ three games this season; and because he remembers their conversation after the Terrapins game, and so he’s not sure if Akira knows that. “So I won’t say whatever you’ve been doing isn’t working for you. Just remember that it’s important to give your body time to recover, too.”

Akira nodded, a tired smile on his face. “I know. It’s been a pretty bomb season for us, all things considered. But I know I can be doing better.” He clacks his stick on the ground and his smile brightens a little. “I haven't mastered the lower left yet and I’m getting ready to break out the heavy racket it. I want it all to go down without a hitch.” His smile warms and he nods in Brandon’s direction. “I know. If it makes you feel better I’ll start picking up and heading out...after I take a shower. Pretty sure campus would riot if I walked across campus smelling like I do.” He lifted his racket and expertly scooped up a nearby ball, dropping it with a satisfying smack into the nearly empty bucket. “I know when my arms are about to give though...I also know I’d catch holy hell from Abby if I threw them out too. No thank you.”

He scooped up another ball and dropped it in the bucket before laying both his racket and his helmet on the court floor. “Help a guy out?” He asked before turning around and scooping up balls. He could only grab a few at a time and by the time he’d managed to grab a few he could feel how tired his arms were. He hadn’t pushed them too far, thank God, but he’d gotten pretty close. He gave it a break after a minute, straightening up to look at Brandon again.

“What are you doing here so late after practice yourself? Wymack already making you pick out who you want to recruit next season? Hoping on the train early.” He laughed again. “Or were you going to break out the bucket of balls and shoot some goals yourself?” He knew Brandon had been an amazing Exy player, one of the jewels in the Fox’s line ups. He knew it had ended badly for him. Ended before it had begun. But just because he’d been taken out for the count didn’t mean he’d have to be taken off of the court altogether. 

She’s more than happy to make herself feel more at home, taking a seat on the couch and leaving her things were they were. “Mmhm, y’know, I get that, I wouldn’t have come back to college at all if not for Exy—doubt I’d have been allowed to, really. And if I’d just been offered a place to take classes then I would’ve been bored out of my fucking mind.” And it’s mostly true, she has – primarily – come back for exy, with everything else being a pleasantly craved side-effect. 

“Not the resident star boy. Got it.” She finalises, if only to give him a bit of piece of mind on the matter. Usually she wouldn’t bother with something she saw as being so trivial, but just this once, showing that recognition felt important. Even if it wasn’t a true reflection of her opinion, she had to let it come across as though she understood where he was coming from if she ever wanted to get close enough to him to use any essence of his fame for her own, personal gain. “Bit of both if I’m honest- I wanted to play, but I also wanted a chance to rebuild myself, y’know? Turn the leaf so far over that people start to wonder if all the old news about me was all bullshit.”

She sits on the couch and Akira accepts the fact she’s probably here to stay. Something tells him that no matter how hard he tried to tell her to leave she wouldn’t. And it wasn’t like she was bad company so he didn’t mind. Too much anyways. “Honestly, I’m the same. I probably would have skipped the college thing if it weren’t for Exy. Just an ends to a means, this college thing.” He smiled at her. “I want to go pro.” That much had to be obvious but it felt good to say it out loud at least once in a while. “Why wouldn’t you have been allowed to go to school? Not get your GED or something?” His parents wouldn’t have let him do a movie without his college degree.

He was glad she got it, even though it meant hearing himself called star boy again. Her changing the subject couldn’t have happened soon enough either. “Well. You’ve chosen the right team to do it with. Second chance Foxes and all that.” He laughed but it wasn’t a very light and happy one. The Foxes were more than a halfway home. They were an exy team too. And while there was no denying that foxes came to Palmetto to turn new leaves and rebuild themselves, Akira didn’t want the focus to be on just that. “You must be a pretty damn good exy player to land here though. Who did you play for before coming here?”

“I mean, don’t flatter yourself that much, my circle is pretty small.” It’s said in teasing, but it’s kind of astounding to him that he’s sitting at this table at an insane hour of the morning with someone he would feel comfortable calling his friend, not just one of his players. He’s never been good at fostering these kinds of relationships, he’s always had a built in best friend in the form of a twin sister, and then it was easy to say his teammates at USC were his friends–they were the people he saw every day and the people he trusted with the game that he loved. After that–it was just easier to learn to be by himself, focus on coaching. He’s kind of glad that’s changing, he’s kind of glad there’s some truth to the statement that he would put Akira up there. “And I did meet Jeremy Knox, so you’d have to come behind him.” 

“It used to really bother me, that there were long stretches of games where no one could find it in them to be happy about wins.” He shrugs his shoulders and smiles warmly, puts a hand on his own leg to stop it from moving. He’s a mixture of anxious energy and complete exhaustion, the only thing he’s been able to bring himself to do to expel it in some way is move in place like this. “But it’s just so much harder for us, we have to work three times as hard to be taken seriously and it feels like–we’re admitting everyone was right, when it doesn’t go according to plan.” 

“Hey, we played pretty damn well. I coached the hell out of you guys.” He laughs and shakes his head when Akira mentions that the team got cocky. “Your head was exactly where it should have been.” 

“Psht. Still flattered.” AKira said, flapping his hand dismissively in Sebastian’s directions. Didn’t matter how little he thought his circle was Akira would still be pleased as punch to know he was part of it. Akira’s always been glad that Sebastian was a coach for the Foxes rather than a Fox himself. He always felt a little more relaxed around him. A little less like he had something to prove about himself. He hadn’t realized he’d stopped wondering if Sebastian’s friendship was just a ploy for a long time. But when he did it felt...great. He made a fake sound of disgust and dramatically draped his hand over his heart. “I rank below Jeremy Knox? I’m wounded.”

“It should still bother you.” AKira said simply. It bothered him that even a win couldn’t drag the Foxes out of their shells. It bothered him that he too fell victim to that sometimes. That wasn’t how a team was supposed to react. Hell, when his high school team won they went out to Taco Bell after the game. He’d known the Foxes weren’t a normal team, but it was still hard to get used to. “You know what I think?” Akira didn’t wait for Sebastian to respond. “I think it’s bullshit that we have to work harder. We’re a damn good Exy team and fuck the people that doubt us just because we had to deviate from plan.” He nodded to add emphasis and smiled a little. “The best revenge is the kind where we win for being awesome and they lose for being assholes.”

He laughed.  “We got cocky. No denying that.” He shrugged. “It helps keep us working hard after games like this. I’ll bet our next practice will be twice as hard because of it.” That was, admittedly, the only upside to a strange downside the Foxes had. Bad night after a game? Better day of practice. It worked. “And you did coach the hell out of us. I mean...did you see that shot Arlo took? Hot damn. That skill only comes from a great coach you know.”

joel: i've been called worse, your insults don't effect me

joel: fine, you're in. better keep up.

Akira: Sorry, dad. I'll try better next time.

Despite Lydia’s reluctance to socialize with most of the Foxes, there were a few she felt, if not completely comfortable, then at least safe around. It was a short list. Marley was on it, obviously. Brayden had somehow made it there too, despite their historically awkward conversations—although she’d never admit it to him, and she doubted he’d be pleased to hear it. Then, of course, there were the Foxes she still couldn’t bear to be alone with, because of whatever reminders or anxieties they brought with them. Notably, that list included Kent, and any of the Foxes who felt too unpredictable or violent to Lydia. Akira fell somewhere in the middle—an unknown entity, for the most part, despite the fact that he was arguably the most famous face on the team. Lydia didn’t put stock in rumors though, and that included the Hollywood kind. 

“If it makes you feel any better, I, uh…I was going to sneak out,” Lydia admitted. “Just for a few minutes.” Akira’s question took her by surprise, in part because of the way he’d addressed her—Ms. Delaney, rather than just Lydia. She was fairly certain she hadn’t been called that since high school, and back then it had been with disappointment, not as a show of politeness. At least…she assumed that was why he’d done it. She cleared her throat, deciding that it was better than the shit she got called at the bar. Lydia liked being a bartender, but every night had at least one (or two, or three, or more) sleazy customers, and sometimes she got tired of enduring their clumsy catcalls for the sake of some much needed tips. “Oh, I’m good,” Lydia said. “I didn’t have the chicken, so. All good over here.” There was a beat, and Lydia cleared her throat awkwardly. 

Akira smiled at her and laughed a little, the tension in his shoulders relaxing a fraction. Perhaps she wouldn’t go running to Wymack, especially if she was so forthcoming with her own desire to escape. Not even the Fox’s management was immune to the need to escape. “Well. If you don’t tell on me I won’t tell on you...and I’ll even let you slip out the back door without looking. That way I can pass a lie detector test.” It was a weak joke but part of Akira felt like they both needed a little humor at this point. Even if it was on the same level as a joke his dad would say. “But I doubt Wymack will care too much if you do sneak off for a little bit. It’s not like he’s got anything holding you here. Unless you’re going to announce you’re suddenly an Exy player signing with the Foxes.” Wouldn’t be the first strange thing that had happened to the Foxes.

“Okay.” He took a deep breath and decided he owed her at least a little bit of honesty back. “I lied.” Akira admitted, looking away from Lydia and worrying his lower lip between his teeth. “I’m not suffering from the chicken or anything at all. I was in the bathroom...but mostly because I was hiding too.” He shot her a sheepish smile and shrugged, hoping she wouldn’t change her mind and decide to snitch on him. It was her right, but that didn’t mean he wanted it to happen. “You won’t go telling on me will you?”

“Whether they watch out or not, we’ll still beat them,” Grant echoed, buoyed as always by a good practice. He would always say the same things, regardless of his mood, but it was easy to feel confident right now, when they were still in some of their gear, when they’d won their last game. As much as Grant loved his own individual drills and workouts, there were few things that could beat actually playing with the team, even in a practice. The games were his best source of adrenaline and accomplishment, but the practices brought about that same glow, especially when they went well. It reminded him why he was here, why he played a sport like Exy, why he loved being a Fox.

Although he wanted to chase that positivity and focus on their next game, Grant couldn’t help but think of their match against the Terrapins when he was alongside Akira right now. He cleared his throat, not entirely sure how to bring it up, and decided to just throw himself into it. Grant wanted to be more this year—he wanted to be someone the team could count on off the court, not just on it, and that meant something akin to checking in on them. Or doing his best to do so, at least. Outside of Casey and Zia, most didn’t open up to Grant, and while he had no issues giving the team rides home after a party or offering up advice on the court, that strict line between him and the rest was normally the way he liked it. But…maybe it was time to shake up that status quo.

“You’re right though, the Terrapins should’ve gotten carded for that shit,” he said, nodding. “And, look,” he stopped, considering for a moment. “Those comments they made were completely out of line too. You might have been doing some rehearsed stunts back on your show, but you’re a real Exy player out on that court, no matter what they say. Anyone can see the difference between the way you moved on On the Line and the way you move out there during a game.”

“I like your enthusiasm.” Akira said, his voice light. “Of course we’re going to win I was just...being...diplomatic. The less teams we have that hate our guts the happier our banquets will be.” He smirked and shook his head, unceremoniously dropping his pads into a pile on the floor. He’d come pick them up later, for now, they needed to air out in the worst possible way. He wasn’t expecting Grant to bring up the Terrapins again, especially after Akira had all but buzzed past that part of the conversation. “I know that. That’s probably the part that makes me so mad about the damn situation.” He lied, hoping Grant would just drop it. He didn’t want to talk about that game. Didn’t want to talk about why it had ended on such a sour note rather than the high note it should have been. He didn’t want to talk about how it had set him to wondering all night long. He knew better, he really did, but that didn’t stop him. Akira had pulled to a stop next to him although he really didn’t want to. Walking away from Grant would probably only end badly and Akira liked him. 

He opened his mouth to tell Grant he knew they’d been out of line, that he hadn’t taken any of it to heart, even though it would be pretty obvious he was lying if Grant had heard about how he’d acted after the game, but he was immediately caught off guard by Grant’s subtle admission to watching On the Line. Akira knew  there was no avoiding it, although he’d been fervently hoping that the Foxes were all just like Cam and totally unplugged from popular TV trends. He smiled awkwardly, and tangled his fingers together behind his back. He hadn’t been put into a situation like this before and found it was one of the few options he had no idea how to tackle. Did he bring it up? Did he ignore it? He could walk away. He could tell Grant to fuck off.

He opted for a joke. 

“Please, God. Tell me you didn’t just watch On the Line to see how I played Exy.” His smile was awkward, but friendly. “I worked my ass off for that highlight reel you know.”

That was fair, Claudia supposed. She didn’t grow up in the same kind of limelight that Akira had. People knew her name but she wasn’t subject to deal with them. “I don’t usually notice,” she said, shaking her head, “Because I’m always gone by then too. Stay around long enough for it to count and Wymack not to ream me out for skipping before I find the closest exit.” She glanced down at her dress. “This isn’t me. Dresses and all that shit. If I had it my way, I’d rip this at the knee and start a free for all scrimmage in here.” 

She laughed at the comment. “You think you can hold me back, that’s adorable,” she said teasingly, taking a sip of water as she followed his gaze to the Ravens. “Why would you want to stop me from punching them, though?” It wasn’t really an event with everyone in the district if a fight didn’t start. She smirked. “Glad to know I have your approval. Hey, you can even back me up if I punch one of them for no reason and Wymack yells at me for it. Say they called me Daphne or whatever, it won’t have been the first time I punched someone over it.”

“I have become the master at figuring out when to leave a banquet and not incur the wrath of Wymack. Dominic on the other hand...” He laughed a little at that, shaking his head. “I only stick around for an hour or two, tops, for the social aspect of these things. After that you can find me outside or in my room.” He shrugged, shoving his hands into his pockets a little ways. “I like getting dressed up like this. I’ve got all these fancy suits...I feel a little bad for having bought them and never wearing them again.” He smiled over at her. “I think you look really nice tonight. I’ll admit it’s not something I’m used to seeing you wear...but you look nice. I mean that. But if you managed to start an actual scrimmage right now I’d be so okay with that. Good luck talking Wymack off the edge though. Something tells me...that is not what he thinks a good banquet involves.”

“Hey. I lift! And I’m perfectly capable of holding you back long enough for back up to arrive.” He smirked at her. “Never underestimate your foes, Claudia. We might surprise you.” He waggled his eyebrows at her and grinned a little. He was pretty confident he could hold her but he really didn’t want to test that theory with her. His shins begged him not to. Her shoes looked painful. “The answer to that question is I’m not about to get labeled an accomplice. I’d never be allowed to play again if Wymack thought I didn’t at least try to stop you from making a fool of the Ravens. You know how fragile their egos are.” His smirk grew a little more at the joke. “I’m pretty sure Wymack will still be angry with you even if I tell him that the Ravens called you that name.” He didn’t want to say it, lest he tick her off a little. He doubted it, but at a high stress event like this...Akira didn’t want too try his luck. “He might punish you a little less for it later but still. Not a river I want to cross, eh?”

“We can always try and fix it if we get bored,” McKenna laughed with a shake of her head before pausing at his offer. The way Akira proposed it was so casual that it caught her off guard. Hotel rooms weren’t cheap after all. “Oh, you don’t have to do that. Believe it or not, I actually prefer to have my own room to go home too,” She explained with a quiet laugh. “I spent a lot of time in motels growing up, which I know are pretty garbage compared to the Ritz Carlton, but I got over the whole transient lifestyle pretty quickly.” It would be nice to be pampered, sure, but she wouldn’t take advantage of Akira like that. She considered him her friend. The offer meant a lot though. 

“Good would be an overstatement, but I know it,” McKenna grinned as she took off the ring her grandma gave to her, careful to pocket it, rather than leave it on the table. She grabbed her cards and set them neatly in front of her. “I’m starting to realize that,” She commented, though she was still smiling. It wasn’t like she wanted to party either, and she couldn’t blame the team for not feeling their best after a rough game. “This is fine though. Better than going to bed or going to a crowded party.” Nodding, she flipped her first card face up, revealing a three. “That means you go, right?”

“Seriously?” Akira leveled an exasperated look at McKenna, a cheeky smile on his face. “I think all we’d ever be able to do was make it worse. I know a lot of things but how to fix a commercial grade ice maker is not one of them. I doubt even Google could help us there.” He laughed and flipped his own card, a seven. The game was slow with two people at the beginning. A lot of cards to get through the likelihood something exciting happened right off the bat? Akira doubted it. He laughed again and shook his head. “The offer is there if you ever feel like living the high life for a night.” He’d spent a lot of time in hotels himself, the appeal of them had long ago worn off. A night in a hotel was nothing compared to a night in his dorm room or his own bedroom. “But I do agree with you on the having your own room thing. There is nothing I look forward to more than a night in my own bed. I always sleep better back at home. Even with my sisters tearing the place up.”

“To each their own right? I’m not going to grab them by the scruff of their necks and drag them to a party. Mostly considering I am probably the least exciting Fox to try and start a party.” He chuckled. He was pretty sure he’d be able to get a party going but it sure as hell wouldn’t be a party about the Foxes. And if there was going to be a party tonight it needed to be a party that was about them and their win. Akira telling Twitter where he was hanging out? Would turn into a party about him. “Between you and me...anything is better than a crowded party. You know what I’m like. I make dad jokes about adopting cats.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. That had been a...strange night. “So. If your next card is a three or it matches mine you’ll want to slap the cards before I do. Got it?”

Don’t read your own press was true for most people somewhat in the public light, but it was probably about twice as true for Foxes. But it’s hard to avoid when it seems like it’s Brandon’s job, and he can’t help the feeling, in the lull between their game against the Tornadoes and their upcoming game against the Jackrabbits, like the sharks are circling. There’s blood in the water: the Foxes beat the Tornadoes, but they stumbled, they showed weakness.

An overtime win is easy to dismiss, easy to argue that the Foxes were outplayed, that they just got a lucky bounce. Who knows, maybe it’s true. If it were, at least luck would have gone in the Foxes’ favor for once.

As a Coach, it’s his job to get the balance right: to keep the Foxes from getting complacent, but not let them get discouraged by their past mistakes. They’re still in the mix for Championships, as the regular season enters its second half, they have to stay focused, they can’t falter now. He doesn’t know if he’s achieving it, doesn’t know if it’s something he can do. All he does know is that he’s spending more time in the court than ever before—and that, from the sound of it, he’s not the only one.

“Practice ended awhile ago,” he calls, having followed some sound into the should-have-been empty court. “If you work yourself too hard, you won’t have anything left for the Jackrabbits.”

It wasn’t uncommon for Akira to stay late after practice. He’d linger in the locker room until everyone had pretty much left and then he’d grab a bucket of balls and head back out there. Drills with the team were great, necessary even, but drills by himself? Akira loved those. Loved smashing the ball against the same small spot on the glass until it was smudged and dirty. If there was something  Akira prided himself on since becoming a Fox it was his accuracy and speed. He worked harder on that those than he did most everything else. Today was no exception. As soon as the last Fox had walked out the door he’d set himself up in front of the goal to try and work out the kinks of his lower left aiming. It was getting better but he still had a habit of swinging wide to the left.

He’d been at it for an hour or so when Brandon’s voice straddled him out of his thoughts. He dropped the ball he’d been holding into the bucket and lowered he racket so the woven basket end rested on the ground. He turned to face Brandon with a sheepish smile and removed his helmet, dangling it on his fingers. “It’s nothing I’m not used to by now.” Akira said, rubbing his hand through his sweat drenched hair. He probably should start wrapping things up, he didn’t want to blow out his arms, but he’d been feeling so good. So like himself again.

“I was just wrapping up anyways. There’s only a handful of balls left in the bucket and usually by the time I gather them all back up I want to go home.”“ He smiled again at Brandon. It was true. He usually did a bucket and then scooped up any near him for a while before calling it quits. It was only after a particular awful game that Akira would fill the bucket back up and go at it again. He did that a lot in the early days of his rebooted love for exy. Drove his coach nuts and the people at the rec center even nuttier. “And don’t worry about the Jackrabbits game. I’ll be at the top of my game when it’s time to go out onto the court. Promise.”

“No problem,” Lilith coos, eyes glancing around as she tries to judge whether or not she’d want a room like this for the next three and a half years or not. It was small, sure, but not nearly as much so as the ones at her last college. These felt more homely and less like a run-down shack, at least. “And it’s okay! Don’t worry about it, I’ll just give Wymack a call later if I can’t figure it out by the end of the night. I can unpack pretty quickly, or just leave it ‘til the morning if I have to.”

She catches his dismissal of the topic, but that doesn’t mean she’s ready to drop it herself. “Okay,” She starts with, as though she’s trying to find her footing with it, “So you’re, like, resident star-boy, aren’t you? Back when you first joined the foxes, I thought you were crazy for it, but look—not two years later, here I am, too. Guess I shouldn’t’ve been so quick to judge.” She’s trying her best to treat the subject sensitively. She knows if she gets it wrong then she’ll either have him label her as someone to outright avoid, or worse yet, completely drop off of his radar altogether.

He’s starting to feel a little more relaxed. So far she’s just been intrusive, not crazy. And while she seems to know who he is she doesn’t appear to be a super fan, a fear Akira hasn’t been able to shake in two years. Probably never will until he graduates. He shuts the door as he shrugs, if she doesn’t want to know he’s not going to force the issue. If she’s as volatile as most of the other Foxes that’d probably only end up in a fight. And it wasn’t a fight Akira was looking to fight. “Whatever you say. I’ve got the place to myself right now but I’m leaving it up to you to explain to my roommates who you are and why you’ve decided to spend your free time in here rather than in your own room unpacking.” 

He stiffens as she keeps talking, trying to look anywhere that isn’t her. Which is hard because she’s the only thing alive in the room “I’m not the resident star boy. I’m a striker.” There’s a note of finality to his tone, he wants her to understand that his past isn’t a topic he likes being brought up. Especially not in the context that she though he was crazy until she had fallen just as far as he had. It didn’t feel like a compliment at all. “It wasn’t crazy. I just wanted to play exy again.” He shrugged but there was no dispelling the tension in his shoulders. “Just like you it seems or are you here for the fame and notoriety being a Fox brings?”

He should have been over it, should have been able to just go back to his room once they arrived back in Palmetto and let it wash away like the ocean waves he grew up around. Instead, Wymack had pulled Kent aside once they got off the bus to discuss his two yellow cards, only bringing forth a resurgence of the anger he’d felt right after the game. Then, he’d had to corral it for press duty, unless he wanted Wymack to bench him the next game or Grant to assign him more laps, but back at Fox Tower, he wasn’t in any situation where he had to stifle his anger. He probably should have around his team, but the striker simply couldn’t smother the flame so easily, and besides, it’s not like he was extremely close to most of the other players.

And Kent and Akira weren’t exactly close, despite how often they had to work together in practice. He didn’t care much if he had some sort of ideal relationship with his teammates, and he definitely didn’t need them to become some sort of “second family” to him. No, Kent Cheong was done with famly, biological or otherwise. It was much better to save himself the disappointment, frustration, and most importantly, the guilt in the long run.

Rolling his eyes at Akira, Kent shifted in his seat, his tense body language already setting the mood. “Doesn’t answer my question, superstar,” he replied monotonously. “What do you care, anyways?”

Akira’s eyes narrowed as he looked a Kent. He’d made it pretty clear from day one of his being here that names like superstar weren’t his thing. And honestly, they were the most un-creative thing. “Don’t call me that.” He looked away, pretty sure if he kept looking at Kent he’d end up saying something stupid. Probably about his lackluster performance at the last game. Kent’s only saving grace was that he was a striker and Akira didn’t want to get paired up with him in the next game only to have him decide he didn’t want to work with him. He pulled out some of his books and roughly flopped a notebook onto his lap. “I don’t have an answer for your question anyways. It’s not like I came down here to talk to you specifically.”

He scoffed and rolled his eyes, finally feeling in control enough to look back at Kent, if only briefly. “I don’t care." He shrugged. “Guess I just wanted to know what bug crawled up your ass and died.” He looked away and forced himself to look at his notes for a second. A part of him wanted to be considerate and caring and another part of himself just wanted to be that asshole. Kent deserved both but Akira couldn't’ decide what he deserved more. He sighed and started to re-write his notes more legibly. “If you’re going to let the game bother you this much after the fact you’re going to drive yourself crazy. Just saying.”

“It was amazing.” McKenna was happy to see Akira. He was definitely one of the nicest Foxes she met so far. He actually took the time to talk to her and go with her to the party after the first game. Laughing, she shook her head, “She wasn’t snoring, but I’m guessing yours was.” McKenna didn’t really stay in her room long enough to find out, only going in to shower and change after the game ended. “I’m just not tired,” She shrugged. “It seems like a waste to spend these away games in the room. After this, we won’t be able to stay in hotels for free anymore.” 

It wasn’t like staying in a hotel was particularly new or exciting for McKenna. The again, when her and her mom hopped from state to state, they either stayed at a friend’s house or in a motel. It was different now though. She wasn’t traveling with her mother anymore, but with a group of college students her own age. It seemed like something she should take advantage of while she had the chance. The whole point of joining the team was for her to branch out more. “I didn’t really have any ideas, I just brought down cards,” She admitted with a blush. “Seems like everyone went to be early though.”

“Mine? Nah. Can’t sleep myself and I was not going to stare at the ceiling any longer.” He smiled at her lifted one shoulder up in a half-hearted shrug. “I’ve been wandering the hotel. There is literally nothing to see here, but the fourth floor ice machine is broken.” Akira chuckled at that and shook his head head, leaning forward to look at the deck of cards on the table. “Hey. If you ever get the urge to spend the night in a hotel you just come to me. I’ll set you up in the Ritz or something. You haven’t lived the hotel life until you’ve spent a night, no holds barred, in a five star hotel.” His smile brightened. He meant what he was saying. He liked being able to spoil his friends at least a little bit. And you really hadn’t lived until you’d spent the night in a real hotel. Wymack didn’t put them up in a dive but it was a far cry from the places he used to stay at.

“You any good at Egyptian Rat Screw? It’s not that great with only two people but I know a lot of rules that can make it interesting. You have to take rings off though. I will not forgive you if you hurt me.” He smirked and pulled the cards into his hands and shuffled them a couple times. “Most of the team seems to have opted for brooding. Their loss.” He shrugged and started dealing out the cards, tossing McKenna’s cards across the table at her. “I’m okay with not having a huge party though. I’m too tired and sore for a full out party anyways.” He tossed the last card and straightened his half of the deck so it fit nicely in his hands. “Ready?”