Heroes Without Capes

Unfair

The world went quiet.

Noises reached Kimishita from a distance, footsteps, voices, the referee's whistle. They all sounded remote, far away, as if they were reaching him from another galaxy or another world. He faintly registered a voice calling his name. Kiichi's voice.

What was happening?

He tried to turn around, turn in the direction Kiichi's voice seemed to come from, but his body wouldn't move. No part of him would obey the desperate commands of his mind. All he could do was lie on the ground and tremble with pain.

Was this it? Was this the end?

He gritted his teeth, biting down on the pain. Not yet. He could still get up. It wasn't that bad... he just had to...

His legs gave way underneath him. Another wave of pain shot up from his ankle, pulsing through his left leg. What was... He hadn't even... why...

"Captain!"

Kimishita looked up. Kiichi was standing in front of him, extending a hand, his face drawn with worry, spite and blinding fear.

Kiichi? Why was he here? Hadn't he been on the other side of the pitch just a second ago?

"Captain!" Kiichi called again, and his voice reached through the quiet, through the pain, through the distance that had wrapped itself all around Kimishita, the void of emotion. Kiichi's voice wasn't remote. It was there, right next to him, frantic and panicked and very much real. "Captain, are you okay?"

Something stirred in his chest. An emotion pierced through the haze, clear and sharp and so violent he forgot about his pain. A rush of stubbornness, burning hot determination. It wasn't over yet. He couldn't stop playing now. Who cared about his ankle. Who cared about pain. The team was counting on him. Kiichi was counting on him. He couldn't quit now!

"I'm... fine," he gritted out, forcing himself upright. His left leg gave way underneath him. He clenched his teeth and reached up to clasp Kiichi's extended hand, letting his vice-captain pull him to his feet. His ankle hurt like crazy. His leg was shaking. Every part of his body wanted to collapse back on the ground and curl up in pain, curl up until the pounding stopped, until his ankle stopped feeling like it was being torn apart with every second.

No. He wasn't giving up. His leg hurt, but he'd keep playing. The match had only just started. He couldn't stop now.

"What are you standing there for?" he yelled at his teammates crowding around him with worried faces. "Quit staring and go back to playing! The match's not over yet!"

They frowned at him for a second, as if they wouldn't quite believe his words, and for a moment Kimishita actually feared that they didn't. But in the end they sighed with relief, some laughing, some smiling, and returned to their positions. Kimishita relaxed a little. They'd bought it. Now his own body just had to buy it too.

He was just about to turn around when he noticed Kiichi still standing next to him, giving him a look he understood without words. You liar.

Kimishita narrowed his eyes, putting a finger to his lips as he gave his vice-captain a warning glare. Don't you dare tell anyone.

Gritting his teeth, he turned, running across the pitch. His foot hurt. It hurt more with every step, his entire leg tearing apart from the inside, radiating red, pulsing pain throughout his body. His vision flickered, blurring at the edges. His head was reeling. The urge to fall down and collapse on the ground became more irresistible with every step.

No. He couldn't give in. This wasn't just a match. This wasn't just the last step before nationals. This was his last chance to stay at Seiseki, his last chance to hold onto the future as he'd imagined it, his last chance to save his father from giving up the home and store that had belonged to his family for three generations. He was stronger than an injury. He had to get to the ball... had to pass, had to score, had to...