#eloise writes

But he had to protect the princess. They all had to.

His grip on his staff tightened and he drew his hood down over his eyes, staring into the darkness of the woven cloth. Runes were sewn on the lining of the fabric, runes that whispered to him, murdered to him, compelling him to use them, to speak them aloud. He felt the reassuring weight of the amulets on his chest and breathed out. He had faith in his own abilities. The other were relying on him. He had to turn this battle around.

Bracing himself, Akira stepped out of the safety of the castle and into the battlefield.

Almost immediately, a well-built fighter with scars criss-crossing his face rushed at the tiny conjurer, as if noticing that he was about to be used as a trump card. His eyes were hard and his arms were bare, packing enough muscle to crush Akira’s skull. His war cry chilled Akira to the bone.

Akira raised his staff and shouted out the ancient summoning spell, feeling the words spill off his tongue eagerly.  The stone at the top of his staff flashed blindingly and the fighter momentarily paused in his charging to cover his eyes. It wasn’t much, but it was just enough time for Akira to summon a wall to rocket towards the sky, cutting off the fighter’s path.

However, he was clever. The fighter immediately changed course and ran around the wall, only for him to be knocked back by a second wall erecting.

“I can keep this up all day!” Akira shouted, rather recklessly. His heart was pounding with the heat of battle.

“I’m sure you can,” A voice said from behind him, making him jump, “you’ve well and truly cut Chisato off from taking you out. However, you forgot the most important thing.”

Akira swung around, loosening his grip on his staff for a fraction of a second, a fraction of a second too long. The staff was yanked out of hands and the cool blade of a knife was pressed to his throat.

“Now, promise me you won’t make any more trouble, okay?” The thief purred, his angelic looking face alight with satisfaction. He wasn’t wearing any protective gear at all, just a headscarf and a utility belt with many pouches and knives hanging from it. His socks were held up by a pair of what looked like garters and his arms were clad in long gloves that ended in a contraption that attached knives to the back of his hands like claws. One of those claws were currently being pressed to Akira’s jugular vein.

Akira closed his eyes.

Suddenly, heard his name being called above the din of the battle. Wait, not above the din… Literally from above the battle.

“Akira!” It was Yui’s voice, screaming with all its worth, “Akira! DUCK!”

Akira opened his eyes to see twenty meters worth of scales and leathery wings swooping directly for him in a blur of red hot heat and ear shattering noise. Acting on instinct, he pushed away the arm of the distracted thief and dropped to the ground.

The dragon swooped down and sent the thief flying, crashing into the side of the palace wall, Akira’s staff still in hand. Akira himself was grabbed by the scruff of his neck and hoisted upwards, up up up to the sky.

“Akira, grab on!”

Akira grasped onto the closest thing he could find and buried his face into it, almost sobbing with relief. He was so sure he was about to die, that the princess would be killed, that they would lose the battle and their kingdom and it would all be his fault.

“Hey, don’t wipe your snot on me.”

Akira looked up, and finally noticed that he was currently clinging onto Yui himself, his arms wrapped around his middle and his face buried in the back of tunic and protective clothing. He tried to unwind his arms but Yui held onto both his wrists and kept them in place.

“Don’t. If you let go of me, you’ll fall.”

Akira looked down.

They were, in fact, riding on the back of a monstrous dragon. They were flying high above the battle itself, rocking dangerously on their perch on the dragon’s neck as the great wings flapped with all their might in order to keep the riders airborne.

That’s right, Akira thought wildly, fingers digging into Yui even tighter than before, Yui’s a dragon knight. He rides dragons into battle.

“I-I lost my staff,” He yelled over the roaring winds, hiding his face in shame. At first, he wasn’t sure if Yui had heard or not.

“I know,” Yui yelled back after a pause. “That’s why we need to get it back!” He tugged on the dragon’s reins and brought it swooping down again, almost loosing Akira in the process because he wasn’t holding on quite tight enough. “Mao!”

The knight looked up from where he had just run an enemy through with his sword and raised his visor. “I’m a bit busy here!”

“The wizard’s had his staff taken from him! We need you to go get it back!”

Mao glanced up at Akira sitting behind Yui, his knuckles almost white from holding on so tightly. He gave a curt nod and leaped on his horse before taking off into the thick of the battle.

“Will he be okay?” Akira asked, worried.

Yui nodded grimly. “Of course he will.”

With that, he spurred the dragon into the air again.

From above, Akira could view the battle in its full and horrifying glory. Their heavy infantry, Jun and Mikiyo were at the front, pushing the enemy back with all their might while Komugi and Moe, were running the enemy through with their lances. Makoto, the general, was positioned behind them, yelling out orders in his booming voice and cutting down those stragglers who managed to make it through. At the front of the enemy was a scary looking hero, a man dressed in ragged robes and armour and a band strapped around his mess of blonde hair. He wasn’t talking very much, but he was certainly a commanding figure.

Akira spotted his own friends Yuu and Megu fighting alongside each other, Yuu on the ground and Megu in the air on his own dragon. Yuu had evidently lost his horse but he was putting up an excellent fight. His sword was almost a blur as he thrust and cut and dodged his opponents. Megu swooped in and around him, picking off the infantry and destroying their weapons with bursts of dragon fire.

Akira opened his mouth to yell encouragement to his friends, but his cheer turned into a scream. Someone was climbing up from the underbelly of the dragon!

Yui immediately leapt to his feet, thrusting the reins at Akira and drawing his black bladed sword. His eyes widened as he saw the attacker, not just with surprise, but with fear.

“Assassin.” He whispered.

Akira’s heart stopped. Assassins were the most feared creatures of the magic isles, known for great speed and agility, not to mention skill. Never had they expected the enemy to bring assassins into battle. And never had Akira expected to be facing one on a moving dragon.

The assassin narrowed their eyes, the only part of their face that could be seen from under their headscarf and cloth wrapped around their lower face. Their long, dark red hair whipped behind them in the wind as they crouched low on the dragon’s hide, knife in hand.

“Hold on Akira!” Yui yelled, already in a defensive position, standing as best he could on the neck of the dragon. Akira gripped the reins and searched the ground desperately for any sight of Mao. If only he had his staff…

The assassin moved almost too fast for Yui to react. They lunged forward, slashing their knife towards Yui’s feet, but Yui parried the blow with his sword, maintaining his balance. He thrust, trying to knock the assassin over the side, but the assassin merely let themselves slip sideways off the neck and hang upside down by their hands and feet. Yui made to slash their hands but they moved too quickly, shimmying backwards down to the dragon’s belly.

“They’re going to cut the reins!” Yui yelled desperately.  “Akira, can’t you do anything!? If we lose control of this dragon, were all dead!”

Akira thought fast. “Yui, can you lower me down so I’m level with the dragon’s belly?”

“What!?”

“Just do it.” Akira gritted his teeth and clasped his amulet hard for good luck. Yui nodded and grabbed his feet, letting Akira slide on his belly so his head was hanging down over the dragon’s side. “Okay, let me down slowly!”

The assassin came into view, clinging onto the leather straps around the dragon’s underbelly and sawing through one with one of their many knives. Akira closed his eyes, regulating his breathing and concealing his presence as best he could while he was hanging upside down over the side of a flying dragon about a meter away from a deadly assassin.

Concentrating hard, he recalled the correct spell and let the ancient words slip over his tongue, tracing the runes in the air. “Ten, ren, hatsu.”

He opened his eyes and held out his hands, which were brimming with all the energy he had just taken from the wind that was rushing past them as they were flying, and aimed at the assassin.

“Release.”

Incredible gusts of wind shot out of Akira’s palms with all the force for a hurricane. The assassin was hit directly and lost their grip on the straps, making eye contact with Akira for one second before plummeting to the ground.

Yui hauled Akira up again. He was panting hard, his energy drained. Using magic without his staff really took a toll on his body. But the battle was still going, and he still needed to be fighting. Yui needed him.

Everyone needed him.

Chiba Yuu adjusted the binder over his ribcage and sighed deeply. He loved the purpose and principle of the thing but to be honest, he could really do without the vague crushing feeling at the end of the day. Practice only made it worse, after all. Yuu had mixed feelings about tackling practice: he relished in knocking over big guys like Makoto and Jun, but he was slightly worried that someone would get suspicious of what he was wearing under his shirt. He didn't mind being thrown to the ground though, not at all. He would always leap back up again, feeling that familiar sense of defiance and motivation to get better, faster, stronger.

"Oh my god Yuu, stay still for a moment will you?"

Megu, Yuu's current tackling partner, rested their hands on their knees and panted through their words. "I can't tackle you if you keep dodging like that!"

Yuu grinned. "I thought that was the point?"

Megu rolled their eyes.

"Besides," Yuu said, in-between sidesteps, "I thought the former track team member would be able to at least catch up with me."

"I can catch up! Just give me a moment!"

Yuu stuck out his tongue and leapt once again away from Megu's half-hearted attempt at a tackle. Teasing his friend was fun, but Yuu knew that Megu could give a lot more, could be a lot faster, could knock Yuu over in a killer tackle...

Megu collasped on the ground.

... Or maybe not.

"We've been practicing for two hours Yuu, I can't do this..." Megu groaned, dramatically grasping at the grass. Now it was Yuu's turn to roll his eyes.

"You idiot, come on," Yuu muttered, slipping his hands under Megu's shoulders and hoisted him up, taking a great deal of strength on Yuu's part. His tiny body can only do so much. "Up you get..."

Megu was the only person Yuu would ever press against his body like this, mainly because Megu was the only person in Meisetsu who knew that Yuu was a transboy. This was because Yuu had blurted it out when Megu told him their preferred pronouns on the train once when Yuu had accidentally misgendered them. Misgendering a genderfluid person was easy to do, but that didn't make it any more excusable.

Megu groaned in protest and let themselves go limp in Yuu's arms, almost making him drop them to the ground again. "I don't want to mooove..."

"Hey, rookies!" Makoto yelled in his loud, special captain voice from where he was driving Hiromi into the ground, "Quit dicking around and get on to practice! Megu, where are Yuu's grass stains?"

"Non-existent, captain," Yuu yelled back cheerfully, pulling a squirming Megu to a standing position.

"Well then, get onto it!"

Akira looked up from where he was being tackled by Yui to give Yuu and Megu thumbs up and a beaming smile. "Fight-o!" he mouthed at them.

Megu waved back before turning to Yuu. "I'm gonna grind your nose so hard into the ground you won't be able to smell for a week, so get ready."

Yuu grinned. "Bring it."

 After practice, Yuu was just pulling his school cardigan out of his locker when something fluttered out of the mess and onto the even messier floor of the clubroom. He picked it up, curious.

It was a note, written in clumsy, capital lettering. On it read: Come to the rugby clubroom at 9 pm. It's time for initiation.

Yuu stared at it for a moment before shrugging and placing it in his pocket.

He didn't think any more about it until he got on the train with Akira and Megu, who had apparently got weird notes as well.

"Maybe the seniors are playing a joke on us?" Megu wondered, slouching on the seat as the scenery sped past them. Megu always sat like when they were a boy.

Akira shook his head. "No, they wouldn't do that! They're too nice."

"Sure."

The three of them sat in silence for a while, each pondering the meaning of the notes they were all delivered.

"Are you guys going to go though?" Megu asked timidly.

Yuu smiled. "'course!"

"Just don't be surprised if you get egg on your face though," Megu said, "Literally."

"The seniors wouldn't do that," Akira repeated, slightly less confidently this time.

"If they did, I'll throw it right back at them." Yuu declared, punching the air. He hit a scary looking middle schooler and had to apologise before he was thrown down to the other end of the train.

Akira and Megu both watched this exchange before chorusing, "No you won't."

Yuu puffed his cheeks out in frustration.

"Anyway," Megu said, "If we are all going we should meet up before going into the school. Just in case, you know."

Yuu and Akira both nodded in agreement. Walking to the school in the dark with friends sounded like an adventure, after all.

 Walking to the school in the dark with friends didn't turn out to be quite the adventure Yuu had hoped it would be. For one thing, it was cold. For another thing, all three of them were so wound up that they would flinch and clutch at each other's arms at every sound made by a stray cat or a plastic bag hitting a window.

"This is freaky," Megu whispered into Yuu's ear, clutching his upper arm so tightly Yuu thought it might lose circulation and drop off. How would he play rugby with one arm? He would have to learn to be a kicking expert like Akira, and Yuu was no good at kicking.

Yuu's other problem was that he had to take his binder off before setting out, as it wasn't healthy to wear it for more than eight hours. His chest was flat enough and it was dark enough not to really be an issue, but still. It was the principle of the thing.

"I think I can see a light in the rugby clubroom," Akira whispered as they reached the school. He was shivering in the chilly night air, but he seemed to be the one most at ease. He had the most trust in their upperclassmen, after all. His sheltered upbringing had given him the misconception that he would be safe with friends, no matter what. "Should we go?"

Yuu threw back his shoulders and detached Megu from his arm. "We came all this way, we might as well head inside," he said in the manliest, bravest voice he could muster. "They better have food."

The trio made their way through the unlocked fence and over to the tiny clubroom, huddled together for warmth and reassurance. From inside the clubroom, they could hear voices raised in laughter, cheerily ringing out across the empty field.

Once they reached the clubroom, they looked at each other, a silent debate on who would knock on the door.

It was Yuu of course, who reached out and banged on the doorframe, hurting his fist. Go hard or go home.

The door opened.

“First years, you came!”

A couple pairs of hands reached out and grasped their shoulders, pulling Yuu, Megumi and Akira into the warmth of the tiny space.

Everyone was gathered in a sort of circle around the floor, with spots evidently left for the first years. Hiromi and Mikiyo, the two who had pulled them inside, steered them to their individual places and clapped their hands, smiling.

“Welcome,” a voice boomed out, obviously belonging to Makoto (because who else would bother making their voice that loud and unnaturally deep), “to the secret, underground, night face of meisetsu rugby club!”

“That name is far too long, Mako-chan,” Hiromi complained, rolling his eyes.

“You come up with a name then!”

“Anyway,” a voice said, which turned out to belong to Yui, “I hope Makoto’s stupid note didn’t freak you out-“

“It wasn’t dumb, it had character!”

“-let’s get to the point,” Yui cleared his throat. “A few years ago, the members of the rugby club realised something.”

“Something odd.” Madoka chimed in.

“Something funny.” Hirmoi added.

“Ooh!” Yuu perked up, eyes alight. “Is the clubroom haunted?”

“Yes, but that’s not it,” Moe said, waving a hand dismissively. At the sight of the first year’s faces, he cracked a smile. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding.”

“What the club members noticed,” Makoto said, pausing for dramatic effect, “was that everyone in the club was queer.”

“And not the haunted kind of queer,” Kaoru said, for classification’s sake.

“The LGBTQIA kind of queer!” Makoto threw his hands up. “We are effectively a rugby-slash-gsa-club! And what’s more…”

“It’s been the same with everyone since!” Miyoko beamed. “Everyone who joins the club identifies as something other than cishet!”

“It’s like we’re moths to a lightbulb. God knows why we all decided to play rugby,” Mao said, folding his arms.

Hiromi raised a finger. “Queers of a feather flock together!”

“Damn right!”

Yuu sat there in the mist of this exchange, his head spinning. Was this actually happening? Or was it all a trick pulled to make fun of him. He couldn’t let his guard down yet. Yuu gathered his hands in his lap and started twisting his fingers, not saying a word. Hiromi obviously noticed how out of character this was for him, and quieted down.

“Sorry, this is probably a bit of a shock,” Hiromi said kindly. “But here, I’ll go first. I’m Hiromi, scrum half, femme non-binary. I use they/their pronouns!”

Yuu gaped.

“I’m Makoto, stand-off!” Makoto spoke up next, his hands on his hips and his chest puffed out proudly. “I’m pansexual!”

Akira, Megu and Yuu all stared at each other in confusion. Is this a joke? Megu mouthed. Yuu shrugged. Akira undecidedly shook his head.

To their surprise, their quiet, gentle senpai was next. “I’m Kaoru. Flanker. Demisexual. Transgirl. She/her pronouns, please.”

“Madoka, flanker.” Their bald slacker spoke up, raising a peace sign. “Aro ace.”

And so it continued, all the way around the circle of their teammates. Yui was gay, Mao was a bi transboy, Chisato was grey-ace. Mikiyo was genderqueer, Jun was gay, Moe was pan and Komugi, to Yuu’s interest, was agender. Ayumu, of course, wasn’t present.

“He has no interest in unofficial club meetings,” Makoto complained to the room at large, “It’s like he doesn’t want to hang with us or something!”

Chisato patted him on the back.

“So first years, it’s time to spill,” Yui said, smiling. “Introduce yourselves.”

Yuu took a deep breath, puffing out his cheeks and standing on his tip toes before bellowing with all his might: “I’m Chiba Yuu! I play center and I’m an asexual transboy!”

He stood there for a moment with his eyes closed, letting his coming out statement ring in everyone’s ears. For a moment there was silence. Then the clapping began.

“Hell yeah, my little ace buddy!”

“Do you use he/his pronouns?”

“Welcome to the family, Yuu!”

Yuu beamed, rocking back and forth on the tips of his toes, his hands shoved in his pockets. These guys were his teammates, his fellow rugby players, and here they are not only accepting him but telling him that they are just like him. Damn, that was a great feeling.

Megu was next. They looked nervous, but managed to tell everyone that they were genderfluid, and liked they/their pronouns. Mikiyo almost suffocated them in a hug.

Akira was next, but he was looking slightly out of place. Yuu placed a reassuring hand on his arm.

“It’s okay,” he said, smiling.

“I know. It’s just…” Akira gazed around, “I’ve never heard of half of your identities, let alone mine. You don’t get to learn about these things when you live on an island with only old people, you see…”

The team looked at each other, before grabbing Akira and hugging him tightly. Yuu squeezed his friend around the middle, letting the others pat him on the back and reassure him vocally. “It’s okay, we’ll teach you! You’re not alone anymore, Akira. You’ll never be alone.”

“And that goes to all of you!” Yui cried, grabbing Yuu and Megu and pushing them into the middle of the group hug. “We’re a family now, and we’re not going to let you forget it!”

“Damn right!”

Yuu laughed, suddenly feeling at ease, letting go of his worries about his absent binder, his small frame, his stress about not arousing suspicion in the team. Now, he had never felt more at home. Turns out it only takes fifteen people to be a team, a club, a clique, a family. And every person belonged in their own, special way.

“You’re too loud,” Makoto groaned, sitting upright and clutching at his face. As it turns out, it was his nose that was leaking blood at an alarming rate and hurting like a bitch. Fuck, did it hurt. Owwww fuck fuck fuckity shit on a stick, was it broken? Was his nose going to be crooked and ugly for the rest of his life?

“Makoto, the coach wants you to sub out!”

“I can still keep playing,” Makoto said, his head still reeling from the shock. “The bleeding’s stopping now, see?”

Makoto’s teammate shook his head and grabbed Makoto’s arm, almost forcibly dragging him over to the sidelines where his coach and manager were waiting with icepacks and first aid kits. His friend, Nakamura, was on the bench as well. His grin was extraordinarily wide. A real shit eating grin.

“That was the worst header I have ever seen,” he said, punching Makoto’s arm as he held an icepack to his nose. “What were you even trying to do, kiss the ball?”

“I guess I kinda leapt into it, huh?” Makoto laughed shakily.

Nakamura leant forward, his chin in his hands. “Man, you look like shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Your face is covered in blood.”

“Oh, really!?” Makoto perked up. “Do I look like someone in a movie?”

“Yeah, a horror movie!”

They both laughed, rather painfully in Makoto’s case, trying to forget the fact that without Makoto on the field, there wasn’t much chance of their team making that last crucial goal. Makoto was their key striker, after all. There wasn’t much the offence could do without him.

“Do you reckon we’re going to lose here, Nakamura?” Makoto said gloomily, touching his nose and wincing in pain.

Nakamura shrugged. “How ‘bout taking your mind off it? If we lose here it’s not your fault.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Makoto said, gesturing to his nose and pulling a face. Pain shot through him like a hot knife again and he winced.

Nakamura scanned the watching crowd absently, apparently lost in thought.

Finally, he spoke again. “Hey, I have an idea.”

Makoto perked up.

“I’ll give you a thousand yen if you ask out that chick over there while you have your broken nose.”

Makoto squinted. “Which one?”

“The one with her back to us. In the large cardigan with the shoulder length hair. She’s cute, right?”

Makoto nodded. Her frame was pretty small and slight, but she was talking animatedly to her friend in a way that could definitely be considered cute.

“And I can’t wipe the blood off my face or anything?”

Nakamura shook his head. “Come on man, if this works you’ll get a thousand yen and a girlfriend! Win win!”

Makoto wasn’t the kind of boy who thought things through properly. A girlfriend? Money? The broken nose he was sporting could become a trophy in its own right! Just as well he had attempted to head that ball. That ball was his new best friend.

Makoto puffed out his chest. “Okay, I’ll do it! Just watch me!”

He bumped fists with Nakamura and slid off the bench, depositing his icepack on the ground and shoving his hands in his pockets. He had only just started at high school, so getting a girlfriend would definitely get him status. He was confident the entire walk over to where the girl was sitting with her friends, but when she turned around he was speechless.

For one thing, he was pretty sure the chick wasn’t actually a girl. Actually it was a bit hard to tell what gender they were, but Makoto found to his surprise that he didn’t care. The real reason why he was rendered basically mute was because this person was the cutest individual he had ever seen. Their soft hair fell messily over their forehead and neck and their face was the very picture of mischievous charm. Their cardigan was a few sizes too big on their frame but they hadn’t bothered to roll up the sleeves. Instead they brought both sleeve covered hands to rest their chin on and smiled at Makoto so sweetly he thought he might implode. They’re like a fairy, Makoto thought distractedly. Or a pixie. Yeah, definitely a pixie.

However, their smile changed into a shocked kind of laughter when they saw the amount of blood that covered Makoto’s face.

“Uh, hi!” They said, watching his face with eyebrows raised. “Um, who are you?”

“Go out with me!” Makoto blurted out, even dropping down onto one knee as if he was proposing. What the fuck, Makoto? Stand up, you big lummox, you are the embarrassment of the century. “Please?” he added as an afterthought.

Behind Makoto’s pixie, their uber-buff friend started laughing uncontrollable. Pixie slapped him on the leg, but they were obviously on the verge of laughing themselves. They certainly looked shocked.

“You’re really cute and pretty and it would be great if you went out with me? I promise I’m not always covered in blood I’m actually quite good looking underneath-“

Pixie kid interrupted Makoto before he did any more damage. “Are you feeling okay? Did you hit your head too hard when you tried to head that ball?”

Makoto’s shoulders drooped. “Oh… You saw that, huh?”

“I sure did~ It was pretty funny. We had a great view.”

“Ah…”

Pixie kid was about to say something else, but their buff friend leant over and tapped their shoulder, whispering something in their ear. Pixie’s eyes lit up in a way which made Makoto’s heart contract, and they whispered back to mr muscles enthusiastically. Makoto stood there for a while, fidgeting and really wishing that he had wiped the blood off his face. Thank god pixie didn’t scream or anything. He wouldn’t be able to live that down.

“Chi-chan and I have a proposal for you,” Pixie kid declared finally, bringing Makoto out of his brooding.

“Oh yeah?” Makoto said, noticing the crafty expression on the kid’s face with dread.

Pixie smiled, and it was as if the sun had come out and flowers started blooming and puppies and kittens were playing gullibly around their head. “I will consider your offer, but only if you join the rugby club.”

Makoto’s mind went blank. “Eh?”

“We practice tomorrow morning,” Pixie said, throwing Makoto a wink, yes, a real wink. “I hope to see you then!”

They got up and left, leaving Makoto to stand alone, slightly shell shocked. Rugby? What was a perfect pixie babe like them playing a sport like rugby? And would they really go out with him if he joined the team? Maybe if he became the ace… If he became the ace of the team there would be no way they would refuse.

“That’s decided then,” Makoto said to himself.

“Hey, how did it go?” Nakamura had wandered over, his hands on his hips and a teasing smirk on his face. “Did she say yes?”

“I’m sorry Nakamura, can you put that thousand yen on hold?” Makoto said distractedly, fiddling with his broken nose, “I might need some time.”

“Huh?”

Makoto turned around to face his friend and smiled a smile of a man with a goal mapped out perfectly in his in mind on an unchangeable path, with a smiling, gorgeous face waiting for him at the finish line. “I’m joining the rugby team.”

 EXTRA

 The expansive  grounds of Hanazono could no longer be seen under the faces of Makoto’s teammates, upraised in pure jubilation. Tears were being shed, sounds were being flung out towards the sky, bodies were slamming onto each other from all sides and the entire team of fifteen players launched themselves into each other’s arms, yelling out “WE WON! WE WON WE WON WE WON!”

“And this year’s champion,” the announcer said over the loudspeakers, drowning out Komugi and Mao’s loud sobbing and Yuu and Madoka’s yells of pure joy, “Is Meisetsu industrial tech high school!”

Makoto fell to his knees, crying silent tears. A hand reached down and grabbed his, pulling him to his feet before crushing him into a massive hug. When they pulled away, Makoto realised that it was none other than Hiromi, the person he had been in love with for the past three years.

With a bellow, Makoto wrapped his arms around Hiromi’s middle and swung him around in circles, laughing and crying and laughing even more. They had won, won together. This was all he had ever wanted.

Well, almost…

“HIROMI!” Makoto yelled, still lifting his teammate in the air, “HIROMI! WILL YOU GO OUT WITH ME?”

Hiromi’s eyes winded, and their grip on Makoto’s neck contracted. They opened their mouth and yelled back even louder than Makoto, “YES! YES I WILL!”

Hiromi grabbed the back of Makoto’s head and kissed him hard, wrapping his legs around Makoto’s waist and clinging onto him tightly. Their teeth clashed and they were smiling too much to make the kiss anywhere near perfect, but neither of them cared. Makoto just held on and kissed Hiromi back with every feeling he had been harbouring since had first met them, all that time ago.

“Tsundere boy, give your senpai a massage…” Makoto, the main holder of these attributes and the team’s captain, flopped into Mao’s lap and accidentally-on-purpose unplugged his headphones, causing Mao’s music to be cut short abruptly.

“I don’t know how,” Mao said, trying to heave Makoto off his aching legs, but without any luck. His captain was like a rock. “Get off me. Ask Hiromi or Chisato.”

Makoto pouted, yes, pouted, and crossed his arms. “Word from the wise kid, never ask Hiromi for a massage. You won’t be able to walk for days.”

“I learnt that the hard way,” a new voice chimed in, and Mao felt a familiar hand resting upon his shoulder. Yui. “He seems so sweet and gentle but it’s just to lure you into a trap.”

“He’s like a siren,” Makoto agreed from his place in Mao’s lap.

“I’m like a what?”

“Oh shit,” Makoto said, and removed himself from the general area faster than Mao would’ve thought possible. Behind Mao, Hiromi started laughing.

“Well, I better go sort out everyone’s sleeping arrangements,” Yui said, sighing, “Seeing as there’s no way our captain is going to remember… Sometimes I feel like I do everything around here.”

That’s because you do, Mao thinks, but doesn’t say it.

He was about to plug his headphone back in but he was stopped by a small hand on his arm and a beaming smile obscuring his vision.

“Mao-senpai, let’s go out and practice!”

Mao stared at Akira in disbelief. “What? We just finished practicing!”

Akira beamed even brighter. “I know! But I want you to teach me your high speed pass, pleeease?”

“I’m too tired. Go away.”

Akira stared up at him with those damn puppy dog eyes again. “Pleeeeease? It’s not raining and it’s still light! We’re only here because we’re waiting for Jun-senpai and Mikiyo-senpai to finish cooking dinner, so there’s no reason why not!”

Mao sighed. He did have a point, of course. This bedroom they were all hanging out in was too small for all thirteen of them, and he was beginning to feel uneasy and his headphones weren’t all that great for shutting everything out. Besides, it was hot and sweaty and Madoka had just bought out his electric guitar and was arguing about music preferences with Kaoru, Moe and Komugi were practically snuggling and Chisato, Yuu and Megu were having a very vocal game of cards. According to the tiny mountain of chocolate buttons that they were using as cash chips sitting in front of him, Yuu was winning by a mile. Ayumu, of course, was nowhere to be seen.

And it wasn’t as if Mao disliked playing rugby. Hell, he and Yui spent all their free time throwing the ball around back when they were kids. Perhaps it was the nostalgia which prompted Mao to make a decision, or maybe it was his interest in this kid who had caught Yui’s attention. Or maybe he just fancied playing rugby in the dusk and watching the sun go down. Mao was, of course, a hopeless romantic. (Not that he would ever tell anyone).

“Okay, fine,” he agreed, allowing Akira to drag him up by the hand and lead him to the door, chattering excitedly the whole time. “But you have to teach me your kick okay?”

“Okay!”

 …

 The sky really was pretty tonight, Mao thought as he watched the ball soar through the goalposts, lit up in pink and orange and the lightest blue he had seen all day. It was like the ball had painted those colours across the sky. As if Akira had dipped it in different paint pots and kicked it as hard as he could so the paint could streak and splatter everywhere before it faded into stars and darkness.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Akira said, retrieving the ball and smiling at Mao.

“Eh?”

Akira shrugged. “It’s what the old people at my island say! It means, what are you thinking?”

“Oh.” Mao struggled to think of a topic which wouldn’t completely destroy his image. “Um… Sheep?”

Fuck.

Akira smiled anyway (nothing could phase that kid) and said excitedly, “sheep are so cool! I wish I could fall asleep on one, it would be so fluffy…”

Mao let him ramble on, trying his best to hide his mortal embarrassment by closely inspecting the lining on the rugby ball he was holding. Its familiar weight and texture seemed somehow comforting. Mao wasn’t sure how he should feel about that. He wasn’t weird like Akira, after all. The ball wasn’t his friend. He didn’t care about the ball. Fuck the ball.

“I’m sorry, what was that?” Akira said, and Mao suddenly realised he had been chanting “ball ball ball fuck the fucking ball” under his breath. Nice going Mao. Akira had probably never been exposed to a swear word in his entire life. You’ve tainted him. Yui’s going to have your ass.

“Aha, nothing,” he said, cursing his entire existence. Look at Akira’s innocent little face, Mao. Think about what you’ve done.

“Mao! Akira! Dinner!”

Makoto’s voice boomed out over the empty rugby pitch, making both boys jump and Mao almost drop the ball. They looked at each other.

“Let’s race to inn!” Akira suggested, as if he hadn’t already endured about ten hours of intense training. “I bet I can beat you!”

“Not a chance, kid.” Mao said, smiling. “On your marks, get set, go!”

Together they sprinted off, barrelling in the general direction of food, arms pumping and feet pounding on the roughed up grass of the pitch. Mao felt the wind stream past his face and urged his body to move faster, to dodge the defenders as easily as if they were standing still. His hair was being whipped backwards and too late, he remembered that he had left his beloved jar of hair gel at home. When was the last time he had enjoyed running like this?

When was the last time he had enjoyed rugby like this?

He reached the inn first, almost knocking tiny little Megumi over in his mad dash and skidding to a decidedly ungraceful stop. Next to him, Akira almost fell face first onto the ground in front of him in one final burst.

“I win,” Mao said, panting heavily. He rested his hands on his knees and shot a rare grin over to Akira, who returned it, twice as big.

“I’m going to win next time, Mao-senpai!”

Makoto walked over to them both and heaved them upright by their collars, almost choking Mao in the process. What was he, a mother cat? Mao had half a mind to hiss at him.