tokyo story 1
Shiozawa Tetsuro, 21
The Law undergrad at Todai . He is your typical overachiever, confident and brilliant.
Terakawa Kei, 19
The poor girl working at the bakery, she used to have everything, until the bursting of the bubble economy turned her family from rich to poor. Being optimistic by nature, she has taken it in her stride and tries her best to help her family.
Komatsu Rena, 24
Hailing from a rich background, she is currently working at an advertising firm. The office politics and pressure from work have made her jaded about the “adult” world. On the other hand, her family is asking her to work at the family firm, which she has resisted, wanting to “succeed relying on her own efforts.” Her relationship with Tetsuro comes under strain due to their age gap.
Takahara Kenichi, 21
The slacker who comes from a rich family. He appears outgoing, but is inwardly insecure, feeling that if not for his money, he would be lonely. Although he pretends not to care, he is also aware of his own ineptness, especially in comparison with his successful older siblings. He likes Miyu.
Fujita Toshiaki, 20
The ex-footballer who spent the last two years in Australia, in a bid to erase the past.
Yokoi Miyu, 20
The brooding artist who seeks solace in painting. She has a love-hate relationship with Toshiaki, liking him, yet hating him.
Takeda Kazumi, 19
The restaurateur’s daughter who wants to be a rock star, she is set to inherit her father’s small eatery in Sendai. But she is not interested in it, only in music. She feels trapped by her circumstance, a struggle against tradition.
***
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to land at Narita Airport.” The announcement was being made. “Please turn off all electronic devices…”
Fujita Toshiaki slid off the headphones and pulled up the window shutter. The sunlight streamed in. He was home at last. Coming home to bury his grandfather.
And maybe, the past.
---
“I didn’t know you could cook so well!” Takahara gushed.
Kazumi gave him a troubled look.
“Try it for yourself.” He held out a slice of tamago.
“No thanks.” She waved it away, as though disgusted by it.
“You are weird.”
“You are worse,” she retorted. “Who calls someone up and says he is hungry, can he have some food?”
“I forgot to bring money out with me. And I was near your place, but I forgot the directions. This place is so confusing.”
She sighed. “Hurry up, I have to go back. Or my dad will ask questions.”
“Ok ok. Why do I have to eat by the roadside anyway?” They were at a junction. “Why can’t I go to your eatery?”
“It isn’t mine.” She snapped. “I don’t want my dad to ask questions.”
“Me too, actually.” He said amid another mouthful of rice. “I don’t know what to say when he asks me how am I doing.”
“I guess I will just become a N.E.E.T. I really don’t know what I am going to do with my life.” He said after a few more mouthfuls.
“I know what I want. I don’t want to spend my life slicing fish, chopping vegetables, scooping rice. I want to be like Nana. That’s my dream. Why won’t he let me pursue my dream and not his?” Kazumi’s frustration grew.
Takahara looked at her, his mouth stuffed with rice. He quickly swallowed some of it. “Can’t you do both?”
“Are you crazy? How can you run an eatery and do music at the same time?” she looked at him incredulously.
“You can do your music during off-peak hours. Hey, you can even make it the feature of your eatery. Live band performances.” He was excited at the prospect.
“It’s not my eatery. Anyway, you think the workers at this lousy port here listen to my kind of music?”
“That’s true.”
“I need to go to Tokyo. Ah, forget it, you worry about yourself. I will think about my problem.”
Kazumi was just this rebel, trying to break out.
“I am back.” She leaned her bicycle on the wall and slid the door open.
“Where did you go?” her father asked, without looking up from his newspaper.
Just as well, Kazumi did not want him to see the basket she had put the food for Takahara in earlier. “My friend was lost in the area.” He was lost in life, to be exact.
“Guy or girl?”
“Girl.” She went up to their living area. The first floor was the eatery, the second their rooms. It was cramped, but she had lived in this house since she was born. So had her grandfather, her father used to tell her with pride. There was so much family history to this house.
She shut herself in her room and took out her guitar and started playing her favourite song Glamorous Sky, singing along.
---
“Miss, are you looking for any book in particular?”
“Eh?” Rena was startled. She turned around and saw a young man standing behind her, smiling. He was quite good-looking. Confident. There was this cleverness in his eyes.
His eyes smiled, he raised his eyebrow slightly and turned his head slightly, bringing her back to his question.
“Oh…I am looking for Sophie’s World.”
“Jostein Gaarder?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“Hmmmm…” he squatted down beside her, scanned the shelves and pulled out a book. “Here. You like philosophy?”
“Yeah.”
“Not many people come here to look for philosophy books on New Year’s Eve. They are all outside, waiting for the fireworks.”
“Maybe I am different.” She scrutinized him closely. He wasn’t wearing the staff uniform. “You aren’t working here, are you?”
“Nope.” He smiled again.
“Oh…” she was puzzled.
“I am Shiozawa Tetsuro.” He held out his hand. She took it. “Komatsu Rena.”
“Pleased to meet you.” He stood up.
“You like philosophy too?”
“Very. I learn about it in my spare time. I study law, actually,” he said.
“Oh…where?”
“Todai.”
“Wow.” She was impressed. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so surprised. He did have this aura of brilliance about him.
He shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
“I am working at an advertising firm. In my free time, I like to think about stuff and write. There’s a lot to think about in philosophy.”
“I like to think too.” he smiled. “Maybe we should meet up and share our thoughts.”
“Uh huh.”
“Give me your phone.”
She passed it to him, puzzled. He pressed on the buttons and handed it back to her. “That’s my number.”
That was how they met. On New Year’s Eve. They had been together for two years now. Even though Shiozawa was younger, they never had problems with the fact that he was still studying while she was already working. Of course there were snide remarks and all. But he was happy, she was happy. Until Hirayama Jun came along, that is.
“But do you really think he can give you happiness? The kind of happiness you want. He still has a year to go. You are already working. You are as good as supporting him. He will always lag behind you. He’s younger. You are like an older sister to him. Can you sulk to him? Can he lend you his shoulder? Ask yourself frankly. He’s just a poor student.”
Hirayama’s words echoed in her mind. There was a ring of truth to it. She closed her eyes, tried to block out his words. They kept coming back. Was she truly happy?
---
He got the ball just inside the opposition half. “It’s time to win the game,” he thought. He started pushing the ball to the right, accelerating. His marker couldn’t keep up with him. He moved to cut inside to a shooting position. In full stride, he was elegant, graceful, and unstoppable. “That was it,” he braced himself to shoot, to score. There was this tension in the stadium.
Suddenly, he felt himself flying into the sky. And landed sharply.
Fujita snapped up from bed, perspiring. He realized it was all a dream. He turned over and looked at the time on his phone. It was two in the morning. Panting, he closed his eyes, trying to block out the images. But they kept coming.
It was horrible. The center back ran straight to him and slid in, crashing into him. It was a horrendous tackle. In the end, they lost the game 1-0. But he lost everything.
He remembered lying on the field, knee jutted out 90 degrees, in pain. The pain, it could not be described. They brought him to the hospital immediately. But the game went on. Eventually, they conceded two goals and lost the final 2-0. The final of the All-Japan High School Championships. His dream. Gone.
All eyes were on him then. Stunned. Horrified. Under their scrutiny, he felt weak. Useless. It was an alien feeling; he had always felt on top of the situation. Suddenly, the pain wasn’t merely physical.
He was told that his tibia and fibula were broken. He needed surgery and later, rehabilitation. From Japan’s brightest young player, he became, in that moment of madness, nothing.
His coach Nishizawa Hiroshi came to see him. By then, he had already read in the news that Tohoku High School had lost to Kunimi High School.
“I am very sorry to see you like this,” Nishizawa had said.
His words were like stabs in Fujita’s heart. He could not accept weakness. He could not accept defeat. That was him.
“I will never play football again.” It wasn’t because of his condition. People could think that way for all he cared. He would never admit that he was afraid. He was afraid this would happen again.
Before Nishizawa left, he had told Fujita, “I know you mean what you say. When you say you are going to win, you will win. But I still hope to see you on the field again.”
Soon after, Fujita left for Australia. To leave the past behind.
He got up, opened a drawer and took out a letter. Dear Toshi, please do not ever give up on football. To have you returning to the field, that is my last wish. Please fulfill it for me. Your grandfather.
Fujita read the words again and again. The strokes were forceful, yet weak; controlled, yet shaky. His grandfather had written it himself on his deathbed. Hands shaking, tears welling, he returned the letter to its place.
He lay down again. He had returned to conquer the past. He had been back for a month now. But he was nowhere near victory. On nights like these, he was reminded of his weakness.
---
“Welcome!” Kazumi called out, then gasped.
In stepped a familiar figure. It was 2004 all over again. Her heart beat faster.
“Kazumi, why are you standing there?” her father was annoyed and hurried over. “I am sorry, this useless daughter of mine is always daydreaming.”
Kazumi was already back in 2004.
“Hurry, Kazumi, the game has already started. Oh, that idiot Uchiyama, why must he be so longwinded? The festival would be a success…” Mai was saying, dragging Kazumi along to the sports complex.
“I don’t understand why you are so crazy over football. 22 men running after the ball. STUPID.” Kazumi was pissed that she was spending her afternoon watching football instead of jamming.
“There are seats there. Let’s go!” Mai ignored her. They sat down. “We are the one in blue, by the way.” Mai told Kazumi.
At that moment, a ball was sent into the opponents’ half, somewhere in front of the two center-backs. The Number 10 made a surging run. Without breaking a stride, he raised his left leg, somewhat parallel to the field, caught the ball on the outstep and brought it down. He skipped right in between the two dumbfounded defenders and calmly chipped the ball over the onrushing keeper.
“GOAL!” the home supporters went wild. It was a fantastic goal.
“SUPER!” Mai was jumping up and down, shaking Kazumi.
“Wow.” Kazumi whispered, her breath held. It wasn’t the goal which impressed her. But what happened after that. The Number 10, after lifting the ball into the net, without breaking a single stride, moved to his right, closer to the stands, the side where the opponents’ supporters were seated, and placed a finger to his lips. He was staring straight into them. It was arrogance. Sheer arrogance. But it was strangely alluring.
“Wow.” Kazumi muttered again.
It was like the sports complex had been split into two worlds: one of euphoria, one of silence.
“Who’s that guy?” Kazumi asked the hyperactive Mai.
“You don’t know?” Mai asked incredulously. “FUJITA TOSHIAKI. The best player in the school. The coolest guy too.”
“You forgot: the best player at his age,” the guy beside her added in. “He’s my classmate. Superb goal, wasn’t it?”
“Your classmate?” Mai was already in her own world.
Kazumi replayed that gesture over and over again. That aura of confidence, invincibility. Toshiaki Fujita. He was a senior; that explained why Mai never got to go near him. The senior girls were always forming a shield around him, blocking off the juniors.
“We can go out one day, the three of us with Toshi,” the guy was saying.
“Can we? Can we?” Mai was practically tearing his sleeve off.
He nodded and promised to ask Fujita. “My name’s Takahara Kenichi, by the way. Class 3-4.”
“Yoshida Mai and Takeda Kazumi. 2-2”
The promised date never came though. But Kazumi went to watch the rest of Tohoku’s games, with Mai and Kenichi.
There was one game when the Tohoku coach kept shouting to Fujita to defend. Although Tohoku had a one goal advantage, the opposition was gaining momentum. Fujita paid no heed to the given instructions. In the end, with twenty minutes remaining, he was brought off.
He raised his arms. The look of disbelief on his face changed into a scowl. He slowly made his way out and did not even bother to acknowledge his replacement. His coach was telling him, “You have to come back more. You are a midfielder. Even a striker has to defend, let alone a midfielder.”
Fujita had not even looked at him.
He was dropped for the next game. He was sitting on the bench throughout the game, legs crossed, looking at the field, somewhat nonchalantly. Then, Tohoku went one goal down in the 30th minute. With less than half an hour to go, the coach was pacing nervously. Tohoku needed to win to go to the nationals. The students around Kazumi started chanting “Fujita, Fujita”.
Then, the coach called him over. He got out of his tracksuit and warmed up a little, before standing, hands on hip, next to the coach, who gave him a few instructions.
“But Toshi already knows what to do. He has been analyzing the game all this while,” Takahara said.
Fujita went into the game and made an impact immediately, threading a through pass for his striker to score the equalizer.
Then, he surged forward and launched an unstoppable shot into the top left corner to send the Tohoku supporters into ecstasy. He ran to their side of the stand, raised his arms, urging them to cheer. His gaze was penetrating. Steely. Kazumi felt as though he was staring at her, as though their gazes were meeting. Then he turned and went back, clenched his fists and shouted, “Come on!”
Amazingly, they got another goal in injury time. 3-1, Tohoku was in the nationals.
His arrogance was repulsive, yet captivating.
“KAZUMI!” her father’s bark brought her back to 2006.
“Huh?”
“Bring some green tea over.” He had already seated Fujita. Kazumi hurried to carry out her task.
The door slid open. In came Takahara Kenichi.
“You actually found the place?” he was apparently surprised to find Fujita here.
“It wasn’t that difficult, although I hadn’t been here for two years, and I haven’t been to this part of the city before,” Fujita shrugged.
Kazumi was observing the proceeding from behind the counter. She brought two cups of green tea to their table. Her father indicated to her to take their orders while he returned to the kitchen.
“Hello, Kazumi,” Takahara grinned.
“Why are you smiling like this?” Kazumi didn’t know if she was bewildered or annoyed.
“Nothing. This is Fujita Toshiaki. This is Takeda Kazumi. Toshi here is a brilliant footballer-”
“Was.” Fujita interrupted. “I have nothing to do with football now.”
Kazumi knew very well what happened that day in the National Stadium in Tokyo. She was watching the game on TV. She remembered cringing at the tackle. Her heart was in pain when she saw his pained expression.
“Oh well. Anyway, he’s back in Japan for a while. Since I am also in Sendai currently, I brought him here to catch up. Kazumi’s from Tohoku High too.”
Fujita looked at Kazumi. It was the second time their gazes met. But it was different. Outside, he was still Fujita Toshiaki. Inside, you could sense that it was different. Shattered. Soulless. The arrogance was gone; the aura of invincibility was gone. Fujita was vulnerable.
It was late afternoon, hence there weren’t many customers around. Thus, Kazumi could chat with them. Fujita had returned to Sendai for his grandfather’s funeral. He would be staying for a while, perhaps even going to Tokyo. After that, he would be returning to Melbourne, where he had been living for the past two years to continue his studies.
Somehow, she wasn’t disappointed that Fujita wasn’t the all-conquering Fujita of old. She knew he was wounded; she wanted to heal his wound.
---
“I am sorry I am late,” Kei sat down beside Shiozawa.
“It’s ok, I just reached here too.”
“And you finished a coffee already?” Kei smiled.
Shiozawa laughed. Kei was too sharp.
“Hmmmmm.”
“What?” Shiozawa asked.
“You don’t look like someone who’s out of love.” Kei said.
“How am I supposed to look then?”
“Depressed? Forlorn?”
“I am. Deep in my heart.” He pointed to his heart. “It’s just so hard to show my sadness around you.”
“Why is that so?”
“Because you are always so optimistic. It just rubs off other people.”
She smiled.
“That’s why you are so nice to talk to. Soothing. Like the sea.”
“But the sea can get turbulent too.”
“Not this sea.”
“You never know…”
“Excuse me, but may I bring you something to drink, Miss?” the waiter interrupted them.
“Oh, can I have a coffee?”
“I’ll have another one too.”
“Sure.” The waiter left them alone.
“So, what illness are you suffering from?” Kei asked in an authoritative manner.
“Huh?”
“I am the doctor, you are the patient. I am here to help you.”
He laughed, then became serious. “Part of me can’t seem to let her go.”
The waiter returned with their coffees. She stirred quietly, peering into the coffee. As though the answer was inside.
“Why don’t you try looking at things from the 20th floor instead of the 2nd floor?” she said after a while. “The view’s different. Maybe it can be refreshing too.”
He looked at her. She looked up to meet his gaze. “You should give yourself another chance. Get to know more people. Maybe she isn’t the one for you, maybe she is. Look from a different perspective. Maybe you will know then. You can take it as a learning experience too.”
He took a sip. “That’s why I say you are like the sea.”
“Huh?”
“You don’t really give solutions. What you said, I figured out myself too. Just that perhaps I hadn’t put them into practice. But I feel much better hearing from you. Soothing.”
She laughed. “Well, at least you feel better.”
The Law undergrad at Todai . He is your typical overachiever, confident and brilliant.
Terakawa Kei, 19
The poor girl working at the bakery, she used to have everything, until the bursting of the bubble economy turned her family from rich to poor. Being optimistic by nature, she has taken it in her stride and tries her best to help her family.
Komatsu Rena, 24
Hailing from a rich background, she is currently working at an advertising firm. The office politics and pressure from work have made her jaded about the “adult” world. On the other hand, her family is asking her to work at the family firm, which she has resisted, wanting to “succeed relying on her own efforts.” Her relationship with Tetsuro comes under strain due to their age gap.
Takahara Kenichi, 21
The slacker who comes from a rich family. He appears outgoing, but is inwardly insecure, feeling that if not for his money, he would be lonely. Although he pretends not to care, he is also aware of his own ineptness, especially in comparison with his successful older siblings. He likes Miyu.
Fujita Toshiaki, 20
The ex-footballer who spent the last two years in Australia, in a bid to erase the past.
Yokoi Miyu, 20
The brooding artist who seeks solace in painting. She has a love-hate relationship with Toshiaki, liking him, yet hating him.
Takeda Kazumi, 19
The restaurateur’s daughter who wants to be a rock star, she is set to inherit her father’s small eatery in Sendai. But she is not interested in it, only in music. She feels trapped by her circumstance, a struggle against tradition.
***
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are about to land at Narita Airport.” The announcement was being made. “Please turn off all electronic devices…”
Fujita Toshiaki slid off the headphones and pulled up the window shutter. The sunlight streamed in. He was home at last. Coming home to bury his grandfather.
And maybe, the past.
---
“I didn’t know you could cook so well!” Takahara gushed.
Kazumi gave him a troubled look.
“Try it for yourself.” He held out a slice of tamago.
“No thanks.” She waved it away, as though disgusted by it.
“You are weird.”
“You are worse,” she retorted. “Who calls someone up and says he is hungry, can he have some food?”
“I forgot to bring money out with me. And I was near your place, but I forgot the directions. This place is so confusing.”
She sighed. “Hurry up, I have to go back. Or my dad will ask questions.”
“Ok ok. Why do I have to eat by the roadside anyway?” They were at a junction. “Why can’t I go to your eatery?”
“It isn’t mine.” She snapped. “I don’t want my dad to ask questions.”
“Me too, actually.” He said amid another mouthful of rice. “I don’t know what to say when he asks me how am I doing.”
“I guess I will just become a N.E.E.T. I really don’t know what I am going to do with my life.” He said after a few more mouthfuls.
“I know what I want. I don’t want to spend my life slicing fish, chopping vegetables, scooping rice. I want to be like Nana. That’s my dream. Why won’t he let me pursue my dream and not his?” Kazumi’s frustration grew.
Takahara looked at her, his mouth stuffed with rice. He quickly swallowed some of it. “Can’t you do both?”
“Are you crazy? How can you run an eatery and do music at the same time?” she looked at him incredulously.
“You can do your music during off-peak hours. Hey, you can even make it the feature of your eatery. Live band performances.” He was excited at the prospect.
“It’s not my eatery. Anyway, you think the workers at this lousy port here listen to my kind of music?”
“That’s true.”
“I need to go to Tokyo. Ah, forget it, you worry about yourself. I will think about my problem.”
Kazumi was just this rebel, trying to break out.
“I am back.” She leaned her bicycle on the wall and slid the door open.
“Where did you go?” her father asked, without looking up from his newspaper.
Just as well, Kazumi did not want him to see the basket she had put the food for Takahara in earlier. “My friend was lost in the area.” He was lost in life, to be exact.
“Guy or girl?”
“Girl.” She went up to their living area. The first floor was the eatery, the second their rooms. It was cramped, but she had lived in this house since she was born. So had her grandfather, her father used to tell her with pride. There was so much family history to this house.
She shut herself in her room and took out her guitar and started playing her favourite song Glamorous Sky, singing along.
---
“Miss, are you looking for any book in particular?”
“Eh?” Rena was startled. She turned around and saw a young man standing behind her, smiling. He was quite good-looking. Confident. There was this cleverness in his eyes.
His eyes smiled, he raised his eyebrow slightly and turned his head slightly, bringing her back to his question.
“Oh…I am looking for Sophie’s World.”
“Jostein Gaarder?”
“Yeah, that’s the one.”
“Hmmmm…” he squatted down beside her, scanned the shelves and pulled out a book. “Here. You like philosophy?”
“Yeah.”
“Not many people come here to look for philosophy books on New Year’s Eve. They are all outside, waiting for the fireworks.”
“Maybe I am different.” She scrutinized him closely. He wasn’t wearing the staff uniform. “You aren’t working here, are you?”
“Nope.” He smiled again.
“Oh…” she was puzzled.
“I am Shiozawa Tetsuro.” He held out his hand. She took it. “Komatsu Rena.”
“Pleased to meet you.” He stood up.
“You like philosophy too?”
“Very. I learn about it in my spare time. I study law, actually,” he said.
“Oh…where?”
“Todai.”
“Wow.” She was impressed. Maybe she shouldn’t have been so surprised. He did have this aura of brilliance about him.
He shrugged. “It’s nothing.”
“I am working at an advertising firm. In my free time, I like to think about stuff and write. There’s a lot to think about in philosophy.”
“I like to think too.” he smiled. “Maybe we should meet up and share our thoughts.”
“Uh huh.”
“Give me your phone.”
She passed it to him, puzzled. He pressed on the buttons and handed it back to her. “That’s my number.”
That was how they met. On New Year’s Eve. They had been together for two years now. Even though Shiozawa was younger, they never had problems with the fact that he was still studying while she was already working. Of course there were snide remarks and all. But he was happy, she was happy. Until Hirayama Jun came along, that is.
“But do you really think he can give you happiness? The kind of happiness you want. He still has a year to go. You are already working. You are as good as supporting him. He will always lag behind you. He’s younger. You are like an older sister to him. Can you sulk to him? Can he lend you his shoulder? Ask yourself frankly. He’s just a poor student.”
Hirayama’s words echoed in her mind. There was a ring of truth to it. She closed her eyes, tried to block out his words. They kept coming back. Was she truly happy?
---
He got the ball just inside the opposition half. “It’s time to win the game,” he thought. He started pushing the ball to the right, accelerating. His marker couldn’t keep up with him. He moved to cut inside to a shooting position. In full stride, he was elegant, graceful, and unstoppable. “That was it,” he braced himself to shoot, to score. There was this tension in the stadium.
Suddenly, he felt himself flying into the sky. And landed sharply.
Fujita snapped up from bed, perspiring. He realized it was all a dream. He turned over and looked at the time on his phone. It was two in the morning. Panting, he closed his eyes, trying to block out the images. But they kept coming.
It was horrible. The center back ran straight to him and slid in, crashing into him. It was a horrendous tackle. In the end, they lost the game 1-0. But he lost everything.
He remembered lying on the field, knee jutted out 90 degrees, in pain. The pain, it could not be described. They brought him to the hospital immediately. But the game went on. Eventually, they conceded two goals and lost the final 2-0. The final of the All-Japan High School Championships. His dream. Gone.
All eyes were on him then. Stunned. Horrified. Under their scrutiny, he felt weak. Useless. It was an alien feeling; he had always felt on top of the situation. Suddenly, the pain wasn’t merely physical.
He was told that his tibia and fibula were broken. He needed surgery and later, rehabilitation. From Japan’s brightest young player, he became, in that moment of madness, nothing.
His coach Nishizawa Hiroshi came to see him. By then, he had already read in the news that Tohoku High School had lost to Kunimi High School.
“I am very sorry to see you like this,” Nishizawa had said.
His words were like stabs in Fujita’s heart. He could not accept weakness. He could not accept defeat. That was him.
“I will never play football again.” It wasn’t because of his condition. People could think that way for all he cared. He would never admit that he was afraid. He was afraid this would happen again.
Before Nishizawa left, he had told Fujita, “I know you mean what you say. When you say you are going to win, you will win. But I still hope to see you on the field again.”
Soon after, Fujita left for Australia. To leave the past behind.
He got up, opened a drawer and took out a letter. Dear Toshi, please do not ever give up on football. To have you returning to the field, that is my last wish. Please fulfill it for me. Your grandfather.
Fujita read the words again and again. The strokes were forceful, yet weak; controlled, yet shaky. His grandfather had written it himself on his deathbed. Hands shaking, tears welling, he returned the letter to its place.
He lay down again. He had returned to conquer the past. He had been back for a month now. But he was nowhere near victory. On nights like these, he was reminded of his weakness.
---
“Welcome!” Kazumi called out, then gasped.
In stepped a familiar figure. It was 2004 all over again. Her heart beat faster.
“Kazumi, why are you standing there?” her father was annoyed and hurried over. “I am sorry, this useless daughter of mine is always daydreaming.”
Kazumi was already back in 2004.
“Hurry, Kazumi, the game has already started. Oh, that idiot Uchiyama, why must he be so longwinded? The festival would be a success…” Mai was saying, dragging Kazumi along to the sports complex.
“I don’t understand why you are so crazy over football. 22 men running after the ball. STUPID.” Kazumi was pissed that she was spending her afternoon watching football instead of jamming.
“There are seats there. Let’s go!” Mai ignored her. They sat down. “We are the one in blue, by the way.” Mai told Kazumi.
At that moment, a ball was sent into the opponents’ half, somewhere in front of the two center-backs. The Number 10 made a surging run. Without breaking a stride, he raised his left leg, somewhat parallel to the field, caught the ball on the outstep and brought it down. He skipped right in between the two dumbfounded defenders and calmly chipped the ball over the onrushing keeper.
“GOAL!” the home supporters went wild. It was a fantastic goal.
“SUPER!” Mai was jumping up and down, shaking Kazumi.
“Wow.” Kazumi whispered, her breath held. It wasn’t the goal which impressed her. But what happened after that. The Number 10, after lifting the ball into the net, without breaking a single stride, moved to his right, closer to the stands, the side where the opponents’ supporters were seated, and placed a finger to his lips. He was staring straight into them. It was arrogance. Sheer arrogance. But it was strangely alluring.
“Wow.” Kazumi muttered again.
It was like the sports complex had been split into two worlds: one of euphoria, one of silence.
“Who’s that guy?” Kazumi asked the hyperactive Mai.
“You don’t know?” Mai asked incredulously. “FUJITA TOSHIAKI. The best player in the school. The coolest guy too.”
“You forgot: the best player at his age,” the guy beside her added in. “He’s my classmate. Superb goal, wasn’t it?”
“Your classmate?” Mai was already in her own world.
Kazumi replayed that gesture over and over again. That aura of confidence, invincibility. Toshiaki Fujita. He was a senior; that explained why Mai never got to go near him. The senior girls were always forming a shield around him, blocking off the juniors.
“We can go out one day, the three of us with Toshi,” the guy was saying.
“Can we? Can we?” Mai was practically tearing his sleeve off.
He nodded and promised to ask Fujita. “My name’s Takahara Kenichi, by the way. Class 3-4.”
“Yoshida Mai and Takeda Kazumi. 2-2”
The promised date never came though. But Kazumi went to watch the rest of Tohoku’s games, with Mai and Kenichi.
There was one game when the Tohoku coach kept shouting to Fujita to defend. Although Tohoku had a one goal advantage, the opposition was gaining momentum. Fujita paid no heed to the given instructions. In the end, with twenty minutes remaining, he was brought off.
He raised his arms. The look of disbelief on his face changed into a scowl. He slowly made his way out and did not even bother to acknowledge his replacement. His coach was telling him, “You have to come back more. You are a midfielder. Even a striker has to defend, let alone a midfielder.”
Fujita had not even looked at him.
He was dropped for the next game. He was sitting on the bench throughout the game, legs crossed, looking at the field, somewhat nonchalantly. Then, Tohoku went one goal down in the 30th minute. With less than half an hour to go, the coach was pacing nervously. Tohoku needed to win to go to the nationals. The students around Kazumi started chanting “Fujita, Fujita”.
Then, the coach called him over. He got out of his tracksuit and warmed up a little, before standing, hands on hip, next to the coach, who gave him a few instructions.
“But Toshi already knows what to do. He has been analyzing the game all this while,” Takahara said.
Fujita went into the game and made an impact immediately, threading a through pass for his striker to score the equalizer.
Then, he surged forward and launched an unstoppable shot into the top left corner to send the Tohoku supporters into ecstasy. He ran to their side of the stand, raised his arms, urging them to cheer. His gaze was penetrating. Steely. Kazumi felt as though he was staring at her, as though their gazes were meeting. Then he turned and went back, clenched his fists and shouted, “Come on!”
Amazingly, they got another goal in injury time. 3-1, Tohoku was in the nationals.
His arrogance was repulsive, yet captivating.
“KAZUMI!” her father’s bark brought her back to 2006.
“Huh?”
“Bring some green tea over.” He had already seated Fujita. Kazumi hurried to carry out her task.
The door slid open. In came Takahara Kenichi.
“You actually found the place?” he was apparently surprised to find Fujita here.
“It wasn’t that difficult, although I hadn’t been here for two years, and I haven’t been to this part of the city before,” Fujita shrugged.
Kazumi was observing the proceeding from behind the counter. She brought two cups of green tea to their table. Her father indicated to her to take their orders while he returned to the kitchen.
“Hello, Kazumi,” Takahara grinned.
“Why are you smiling like this?” Kazumi didn’t know if she was bewildered or annoyed.
“Nothing. This is Fujita Toshiaki. This is Takeda Kazumi. Toshi here is a brilliant footballer-”
“Was.” Fujita interrupted. “I have nothing to do with football now.”
Kazumi knew very well what happened that day in the National Stadium in Tokyo. She was watching the game on TV. She remembered cringing at the tackle. Her heart was in pain when she saw his pained expression.
“Oh well. Anyway, he’s back in Japan for a while. Since I am also in Sendai currently, I brought him here to catch up. Kazumi’s from Tohoku High too.”
Fujita looked at Kazumi. It was the second time their gazes met. But it was different. Outside, he was still Fujita Toshiaki. Inside, you could sense that it was different. Shattered. Soulless. The arrogance was gone; the aura of invincibility was gone. Fujita was vulnerable.
It was late afternoon, hence there weren’t many customers around. Thus, Kazumi could chat with them. Fujita had returned to Sendai for his grandfather’s funeral. He would be staying for a while, perhaps even going to Tokyo. After that, he would be returning to Melbourne, where he had been living for the past two years to continue his studies.
Somehow, she wasn’t disappointed that Fujita wasn’t the all-conquering Fujita of old. She knew he was wounded; she wanted to heal his wound.
---
“I am sorry I am late,” Kei sat down beside Shiozawa.
“It’s ok, I just reached here too.”
“And you finished a coffee already?” Kei smiled.
Shiozawa laughed. Kei was too sharp.
“Hmmmmm.”
“What?” Shiozawa asked.
“You don’t look like someone who’s out of love.” Kei said.
“How am I supposed to look then?”
“Depressed? Forlorn?”
“I am. Deep in my heart.” He pointed to his heart. “It’s just so hard to show my sadness around you.”
“Why is that so?”
“Because you are always so optimistic. It just rubs off other people.”
She smiled.
“That’s why you are so nice to talk to. Soothing. Like the sea.”
“But the sea can get turbulent too.”
“Not this sea.”
“You never know…”
“Excuse me, but may I bring you something to drink, Miss?” the waiter interrupted them.
“Oh, can I have a coffee?”
“I’ll have another one too.”
“Sure.” The waiter left them alone.
“So, what illness are you suffering from?” Kei asked in an authoritative manner.
“Huh?”
“I am the doctor, you are the patient. I am here to help you.”
He laughed, then became serious. “Part of me can’t seem to let her go.”
The waiter returned with their coffees. She stirred quietly, peering into the coffee. As though the answer was inside.
“Why don’t you try looking at things from the 20th floor instead of the 2nd floor?” she said after a while. “The view’s different. Maybe it can be refreshing too.”
He looked at her. She looked up to meet his gaze. “You should give yourself another chance. Get to know more people. Maybe she isn’t the one for you, maybe she is. Look from a different perspective. Maybe you will know then. You can take it as a learning experience too.”
He took a sip. “That’s why I say you are like the sea.”
“Huh?”
“You don’t really give solutions. What you said, I figured out myself too. Just that perhaps I hadn’t put them into practice. But I feel much better hearing from you. Soothing.”
She laughed. “Well, at least you feel better.”
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