I'm Heading Overseas (5)
"Really?"
"Yeah."
"How could you make a decision like that without even discussing it with me…."
Mai suddenly burst into tears, leaving me momentarily flustered—no, more baffled than anything. We hadn't exactly promised each other a future or anything….
"When… when are you coming back?"
"I'm not."
"You piece of shit. You're such a fucking trash."
Mai, who had been bandaging my wound, ran out of the nurse's office in tears. Were we really that serious? …Honestly, it was a bit ridiculous.
Is it because she's Japanese? She's being way too dramatic.
We'd just gone on a few dates as kids, and she was crying like this? Not even the end of the world. I sifted through Luka's memories while staring at the empty spot she'd left, but no matter how I looked at it, we weren't close enough for this level of hysterics.
Whatever, she's just a kid. I should cut her some slack.
After ditching my family and friends to accept this life, some girlfriend I barely felt anything for was no big deal. Besides, there were more pressing matters.
Like not being able to go to soccer practice anymore? Japanese schools graduate mid-to-late March. And they had this absurd system where after a short winter break, kids went back to school from January to March. Right now, it was December, just before break. With school in session, finding a place to train was tricky.
I'd checked my condition working out alone, but before heading to England, I needed a spot to kick the ball around. Getting kicked off the team was a minor fuck-up.
Should I act like Haruto and just practice under a bridge or something? Tsk. This is why you gotta keep your temper in check….
But people don't change easily without dying. I'd lived like this so far, and holding back anger in that situation wasn't easy.
Anyway, it wasn't a huge setback. Even if I couldn't play team games, getting used to the ball solo was more important now that my body had changed.
Break's not far off anyway, so maybe it's fine?
I finished bandaging the spot Mai had started and left the nurse's office. No one approached me on the way to class. Luka didn't have close friends to begin with. He'd slept through classes with his head down for three years of school.
Lots of girls came to cheer at games, but real human connections? Barely any.
"Gasp, it's Luka."
"He's bleeding…."
"Did he get in a fight?"
The classroom buzzed as soon as I entered. Honestly, I preferred this distance. No point wasting emotions on kids I'd forget soon, who only existed in memories.
"Tachibana-kun."
A bespectacled girl called out as I was about to crash on my desk. The class president. Her name escaped me.
At least remember your classmates' names, dude. Or… nah, I don't remember regular kids' names either.
"Teacher wants to see you."
"Teacher?"
"Yeah. Said to go to the career counseling office."
"What's it about?"
"Dunno. That's all I got."
She looked uncomfortable with my question, but I had a pretty good idea. Even for a coach, throwing an ashtray at a student was a massive screw-up. They probably wanted to quash it before it blew up.
Sure enough, my hunch was right. The coach looked pissed, the principal embarrassed.
Principal too? Must've been a big deal. Maybe he was thrilled about the three straight tournament wins?
"Haha, Tachibana-kun. Heard there was an unfortunate incident this morning?"
"Ahem."
"Tachibana-kun, you know this won't end well if it escalates. Your father wouldn't want that either. Coach, apologize properly."
Desperate, pitiful smile from the old man who looked in his 60s. It softened my urge to sue a bit. Roots from the land of courtesy and all—I'm a sucker for elders.
"…Sorry about this morning."
The coach even apologized. I'd been rude too, so maybe I'd let it slide.
"That's not how you apologize, is it? Throw an ashtray at someone's head and 'sorry' is it?"
Unless it was genuine, of course.
"Ahem, ahem."
The principal shot him a look to bow properly.
"…I'm truly sorry. No excuse, even if you're a student."
Following the cue, the coach stood, bent nearly 90 degrees in a dogeza, and used polite speech. For something society barely tolerates anymore, this was top-tier remorse in the circumstances.
No fetish for watching a sweaty middle-aged dude kneel and sob grabbing my pants, so I'd forgive him here.
"What if it scars?"
"I'll cover the hospital bills…."
Lips bitten, face twisted in humiliation, he offered to pay medical costs. Pathetic sight from a grown man—I'd pass.
Dad probably wouldn't want the scandal either.
"Forget it. It's not like we're broke. Let's just get along from now on."
I patted his shoulder and headed out.
Oh, manners.
"I'll be going then?"
"Tachibana-kun, the school is fully at fault."
"Shit happens."
After the principal's apology too, I left. Then a roar from behind.
"Uwaaaaaah!"
Couldn't hold it even with the principal there. A pro bowing and speaking politely to a brat? He'd be pissed.
With his scream as BGM, I made it to class. First desk nap since school days, lulled by that scene. Until someone woke me.
"Hey, hey. Wake up."
"Ugh… what?"
"You forgot your bento."
It was my sister Luna, holding the lunchbox.
Seeing her face reminded me of bawling in her arms. I turned away slightly. Unlike memory-dependent folks, Luna felt awkward since her recall hit later. Luka didn't like her much. Typical siblings.
Normally, he'd curse her out to leave, but I had zero urge.
"Heard you broke up with Mai-chan?"
"Mai-chan? Oh, her? Yeah, we did."
"Why? You bragged about her so much."
"…Wanna eat here?"
"After something this juicy, I'll hear you out."
Luna sat in front of me. Luka's instincts screamed get lost, but it didn't stick.
Dude, be nice to family. Luka was a weirdo, even by my standards.
"Eh, nothing much."
"So, what happened?"
Classmates' stares bored into us during lunch. Felt it since Luna entered—her killer figure straining her uniform, beauty beyond her years. Mixed heritage didn't lie.
…Yeah, memories of mocking her popularity and no boyfriend.
But that wasn't me, so whatever.
Our audience looked like paparazzi. Me, Luna, top-caste Mai—prime gossip fuel.
And I loved the spotlight.
"Told her I'm going overseas, so we can't date anymore."
"…That's it?"
Luna paused mid-chopsticks, eyeing me.
"What else you need?"
"…Fair point, but. You dated a year? Feels too cold…."
"Hard to meet soon anyway. Better than dragging it out, right?"
"Yeah, maybe."
She poked at her food silently, then spoke.
"Oh, soccer team?"
"Soccer team?"
"Kids said you got kicked off? Skipping morning practice."
"I quit. Not kicked."
"Why?"
"Said I'm going overseas, they threatened some bullshit."
Had I mentioned overseas? Maybe not, but minor detail. Classmates murmuring? That attention high was worth more.
"What'll you tell Dad?"
"No tournaments left. He won't care much."
"Yeah, your call. Leaving the box? I brought it, you take it back."
"Sure."
"…You're really okay with that?"
She eyed me like he's actually leaving it? What the hell did Luka do to make his only sister this suspicious?
"Yeah, bye. Brush your teeth."
"I will, jerk!"
She yelled and left. Classroom hushed briefly.
Then a few bold ones approached. Overseas transfer shock, naturally.
"Tachibana, you really broke up with Mai?"
…That direction?
"Problem?"
"N-no…."
At least one with sense.
"Hey, Tachibana. Overseas for real?"
"Yup. You'll see me on TV soon. Autograph?"
"Huh? Autograph? Uh…."
"No biggie. Back turned. Hurry."
"O-okay."
A vaguely familiar kid turned. I uncapped a stray pen on the desk.
Ah, that familiar feel. Scribbled on his uniform back.
"W-wait!"
Oh right—his voice jogged it. That was Kim Taehyun's signature.
I scratched it out, whipped up a new one. No practice, but I'm pro. Drew it flawlessly on his back.
'L' base piercing the 'uka'—pretty slick for a one-second idea.
Not bad. Genius, as always.
"T-Tachibana…?"
He teared up, thrilled. Future superstar's first sig—worth hundreds of thousands of yen in 20 years. Treasure.
Anyone'd react like that. Money aside, my sig's priceless. Plus, last from soccer genius Kim Taehyun. Historic.
"T-Tachibana, that's a permanent marker…."
"I know."
Even book-hater me knew that.
"W-why use that…."
"So it doesn't fade. Keep it safe."
"A-ah…."
Tears streaming from joy. But hogging the bliss? Unfair.
"Anyone else want one?"
"N-no? I'm good."
Wanted it but refusing. Good hearts.
With fans like this, I'd gift cleats too.
"Come on."
"S-sorry, Tachibana!"
True to humble Japan, they scattered. Pro in Japan, I knew to approach first.
"Harder later. Sure?"
Faces/names mismatched now; gone to England, forgotten in months.
But leaving a feel-good story? Nice.
I stood. Japanese shorties looked up—head shorter at my 182cm.
"Really no?"
"…Yeah, we're fine."
Tsk.
Rejecting sigs reminded me of late-career fans—bittersweet.
"I'll take one! Here!"
Semester bonds? They offered backs anyway.
"Got your faces memorized, punks."
Signed six more. Last kid held a notebook.
"C-can I get it here?"
"Paper? Coating hassle. On clothes. Turn. Hurry. Front?"
"No, back…."
Final sig with flair. Eight total. Proud.
First fans in this world. Pathetic number, but start's now.
For them, I'd become a soccer legend.
"Keep safe. It'll be valuable."
"…."
Left teary, speechless fans. Grabbed bento box, bag—soccer ball underfoot like an extension.
Afternoon workout time?
Class? Not aiming for professor. Skipping fine.
More desk naps? Bad posture.
Kim Taehyun, Luka, eight new fans—10 dreams on my back. Skipping class? No issue.
"Nice weather. …Nah, kinda cold."
December chill, but first fan day greeted with sunny rays.