Heroes Without Capes

Unapologetic

Kimishita hurried blindly down the street, not even bothering to look where he was going. His head was reeling. The anger in his blood was still boiling hot, bubbling and steaming and refusing to cool down. Anger at Kiichi for not understanding, for underestimating him like this. Yes, he knew he was putting a lot of pressure on himself. Yes, he was pushing himself to his limits. So what? Like he hadn't done that before! Couldn't his idiot vice-captain just trust him for once and let him do as he saw fit? He wasn't so weak he'd collapse just from a few days of intense training! He was fine, damn it!

Through his fuming anger, a voice whispered in his head, soft and clear and infuriatingly calm. Maybe you should have explained yourself to him. It's not like he can read your mind.

He brushed it off, clicking his tongue. Explained himself... What was there to explain? He already had explained everything to him! Kiichi was a natural. If he wanted to play on the same level as him, he had to practice a thousand times more, had to make up for their natural difference in talent with hard work and determination. A privileged bastard who'd always been praised as a genius should shut his mouth. It wasn't like he knew what it was to be struggling to keep up, to be afraid to be left behind by the rapid growth of his own teammates. Spoiled, ignorant, privileged brat. Why should Kimishita have to defend himself to him?

Are you sure he doesn't know what it's like to chase after people? the voice replied, still as soft as ever. He was about to say something when you walked out on him. Shouldn't you have stayed and heard him out?

Kimishita scoffed. What could Kiichi possibly have said in his defense? I've always, always... Always what? Anything that could possibly follow those words had to be utter nonsense.

But he'd looked hurt when Kimishita slammed the door in his face. Upset, betrayed. Had he been about to say something important? Had Kimishita made a mistake by walking out on him like that?

No, don't think of that. Kiichi had just been angry that someone wouldn't listen to him, wouldn't pay attention to him even though he demanded it. He was a man-child with an ego the size of Mount Everest, of course he'd get mad when he was interrupted, not heard out, not listened to.

That was it... right? That had to be it... or else...

Who was he kidding. Of course he had made a mistake. Kiichi hadn't just looked angry, he had looked hurt, almost heartbroken. Kimishita had hurt him. He had lashed out, and he had locked him out, blinded by anger, and he had hurt his roommate, vice-captain and friend.

Kimishita stopped walking. His anger turned away from Kiichi to direct at himself. The look on his friend's face burned itself into his mind, furious, heartbroken and betrayed. What had he done? Why had he hurt him like that? He should have just stayed, stayed and listened, explained himself. He should have told him why he was working so hard. It wasn't that he wanted to push himself to the limit, train until he could barely walk anymore, over and over and over again, give one hundred and ten percent without ever giving himself time to recharge. It was that he couldn't find peace if he didn't. He was restless, nervous, always feeling like he was wasting precious minutes of practice. What if he didn't make it because he hadn't given it his all? Would his chances improve if he spent just a few more minutes a day training, if he tried even harder? He knew these thoughts were irrational, but he couldn't stop them. He couldn't turn them off, and the only way to quiet them was by practicing till his legs gave out.

Would Kiichi have understood if he'd told him that? Would he have known a way to help him?

Now Kimishita wouldn't know. What he'd done was wrong, but like hell he was going to crawl back to Kiichi and apologize. He was sorry for hurting him, but he was never going to regret defending himself. Kiichi had no idea how serious this was to him. His father's fate, his own happiness, his friendship with Kiichi... it was all resting on his shoulders, a load heavier than anything else he'd ever had to bear.