Somewhere beyond the sea

Somewhere waiting for me

My lover stands on golden sands…

There's a lot of congratulatory hugs and slaps on the back during the Christmas Bowl after-party.

"Bro that was fucking sick."

"Shorty got a need for speed. Good job, man."

"Deimon was good, but watch out for our team next year."

Sena ends up feeling just as beat up after the onslaught as he did right after the game. 'Football players really don't know their true strength,' Sena laments after Otowara knocks him over without any ill-intent. It's just past eleven, and the party is picking up in earnest. This also means that the people talking to Sena have all dispersed to enjoy themselves. He heads over to the refreshments table, uncertainty starting to seep in. He'd never really been invited to parties before, and it was now evident that he wasn't good at them.

The yacht Hiruma rented (exhorted? owned? Better to not know in order to maintain plausible deniability should it come to that) has a dance floor under a canopy of string lights on the top deck. The DJ is playing some bass infused pop music that Sena would like better if he could dance to it. Taki is spinning around off-beat, sparkles radiating from him, dead center on the dance floor. Some cheerleaders have made an unapproachable dance circle, where their perfect dancing imitates a summer beach commercial despite it being the middle of winter. A few of the cheerleaders, Yuko and Niko he recognizes, wave him over, but he points to his drink as an excuse. As Sena sips his punch, Akaba pops onto the dance floor as well, moving with such flourish that whatever idea Sena might have had to wiggle along to the beat later that night completely disappears.

The chill air starts to nip at Sena's nose and cheeks a bit more earnestly now that he's away from the crowd of warm bodies. He walks to the stairs, but when Akaba makes significant eye contact for Sena to join him, Sena decides the best route of escape is a sprint in order to avoid sure embarrassment via dance.

…

It's like he steps into a different party altogether. Jumonji is performing a duet with Kotaro; neither of who are trying to sing so much as they are trying to yell over the other person.

"He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast, and he's gotta be fresh from the fight…"

Mamori is in the corner crying with Wakana, Komusubi in between both of them, weeping even harder. Sena makes out the word "creampuff" and decides he has not eaten enough pastries to even understand their anguish.

"Hey, Sena," Sakuraba seems to appear out of nowhere. He's holding a drink, cheeks flushed. Sena suspects someone spiked the punch and sets his own cup down. "You going to sing next?"

"Ah, no, I'm not a singer." Sena and Sakuraba both wince as Kotaro lets out a shriek that is supposed to pass as a vocal run.

"Dude shut the fuck up I'm trying to sing my part!"

"It's called vocalizing. Wanna see me kick this can through that port hole?"

"I'm gonna kick your fucking ass if you don't let me get back on beat."

"Uh," Sakuraba sweatdrops as two Poseidon players try to separate Jumonji and Kotaro. "I could sing with you. My voice is pretty decent now."

"No, really, I don't think I'm suited for that-"

One of the Poseidon players swing Kotaru off the stage, knocking over candles and catching a curtain on fire.

"Oh shit," Sakuraba tries to take out the fire with his coat jacket, but that proves ineffective, and now Sakuraba's coat is on fire. Sena, meanwhile, has located and brought back a fire extinguisher. (Unbeknownst to him, he just beat his 4.2 record by 0.002 seconds. Emergencies are great motivations.)

"I don't know how to use this!" Sena screams.

Sakuraba screams. Kotaro hasn't stopped screaming. Jumonji picks up the mic and continues the power ballad perfectly in time.

"I need a hero! I'm holding out for a hero 'till the end of the night."

Finally, Sena presses down on something right and the next thing he knows, there's foam being sprayed everywhere. Enough of it lands on the fire to put it out. Sakuraba shakes himself dry and starts looking around, presumably for Sena.

"My turn to sing," Suzuna skates up to the mic, dragging a still teary Mamori with her. Amidst the confusion, Sena sneaks into the bottom floor.

…

Cigarette smoke fills the air. There is one light illuminating the entire room from where it hangs over a poker table. Hiruma, Kid, Marco, Agon, Takami, and Rui are all crowded around it. Their eyes all slide to where Sena has the door creaked open.

'Ah,' Sena thinks, realizing his mistake.

"Hey twerp, you wanna join the game?" Hiruma asks, a smirk barely hidden. The tone of voice makes Sena think that he wouldn't so much be playing for the jackpot, but somehow be the jackpot.

"I have diarrhea," Sena says, bowing, and then bolts out of the room. He'll have time to be mortified by his outburst later. Preferably in the safety of his home. (He would be happy to know that he beat his 4.2 record by 0.003 seconds this time.)

…

He ends up in a sort of patio area of the deck. The food tent separates the raucous dance floor from the area he's found. He's got a headache forming already, probably from the smoke and the tilting of the boat. He lets his arms hang over the railing's edge.

Someone calls his name. He recognizes Shin's voice.

"Are you feeling ill?"

Sena leans his head against the cool metal. "Maybe a little. It's been… a long day, and I think it finally caught up to me."

"You should drink more." Shin holds out a cup.

"I don't think I could drink any more sugar right now."

"It's water."

Sena takes a sip. Already feeling his nausea start to abide, he takes another. "Thank you."

"You're welcome."

Shin leans against the railing next to Sena. Sena is familiar enough with Shin to know he doesn't have to say anything, and that he can let the silence be. He's reminded of the one night at the barbecue buffet, how they talked while their teams ate dinner. The atmosphere now is similar – not oppressive, but still intense. Meaningful.

"I've been told your birthday was recently. I have something for you," Shin says.

"Uh," Sena says. His mouth is working like a fish's. He doesn't know Shin's birthday. "Um, I mean yes it was. How…"

Shin holds out a small square of folded tissue paper. Sena reaches out and opens it. Two small, metallic things drop into his hand. They're cold against his skin, and at first he thinks they might be rings.

"Oh?" Sena says. A Devilbat pin and a Knight pin. "Oh," he says again, more thoughtfully. Their details are fine and exquisite. How expensive was it to get something like this custom made? "Thank you, but there's no way I can—I mean I can't possibly…" Sena's struck again by the gift – despite being two different styles, they look like a pair, balanced and matched.

"They are cufflinks. My father owns a company that specializes in small metal work and made them at my mother's suggestion. It is just something to commemorate this year. I admit they're not very practical."

'Just something…' Sena doesn't think he'd ever call a gift like this "just something."

"Thank you very much, Shin-san," Sena says, voice tight. The Deimon cufflink pulls slightly red in the dim light while the Ojou ones shines closer to a blue.

Shin nods, looking almost expectant. The dancefloor is getting louder. The bass thrums through Sena's body, through his fingertips and makes his heart beat harder. That's what he chooses to think anyway.

Sena's tux has plastic cufflinks that he had to have his mom help put on. The new ones are much heavier, sturdy. This gift feels more like a parting gift than anything. He wonders if Shin knows… Sena stores the cufflinks in his jacket's inside pocket for safe keeping.

Still, his mind is distracted, and isolated on the boat, he feels his courage swell and break the silence.

"Shin-san… if you couldn't play next year, what would you do?"

"I would continue to train my body for my own benefit." Shin pauses, thinks. Sena can almost pinpoint the moment Shin realizes the gravity of the question. "I think I would try to get an extension for playing. I have more room to grow. It would be… unsatisfactory to be cut off at this point."

"Mm," Sena shivers in the cold breeze. "I keep thinking about our second years. How the team will be in the future, without them."

"You're worried that you won't live up to the expectations you've created."

"I just don't see how… Hiruma is our leader, he just knows what plays to make and when and…"

"You played without him in your Hakushu game."

Sena covers his face in embarrassment. That game was one thing that kept him up night.

"You shouldn't think poorly of how you played. You didn't have experience in that position. I would have acted the same if I were in that situation."

"Somehow I feel like you can at least throw, Shin-san."

"Possibly," Shin says, voice lilting enough to make Sena know he's joking. And, huh. That's new. Sena glances over at Shin, to find his face graced with the barest of smiles. Sena smiles shyly back.

"Ojou is a really great school," Sena starts slowly. "Do you… always see yourself playing for them? If… if someone—if there was a really good opportunity… a once in a lifetime opportunity… and I'm just rambling now, I guess… but, ah…"

"There are scouts at all big games," Shin says. Both of them are looking out at the sea. Both of them are gripping the rail with white-knuckled hands. Finally: "It depends on the opportunity."

"If the new opportunity… if that's what would challenge you…"

"Then your teammates can't begrudge you for taking it."

"For wanting to grow…"

"There are also other opportunities to play together. University. Beyond that, possibly."

If Sena wanted Shin's blessing, this would be it. There's a beat. The muted songs and sounds of the party fill in the background noise and make the pause softer. Sena's mind drifts to the cufflinks burning a hole in his pocket.

"Ne, Shin-san...?"

"Yes?"

But Sena chickens out. "I'm just surprised you're still here. Ah—that came out rude. I don't want you to leave. I mean! You have a very strict training schedule. I would think… you know, you'd dip out or use this time to train. Maybe side planks on the railing."

"My father specifically asked me not to ruin my clothing," Shin motions to his suit. A deep navy blue, neatly tailored and well fitted. It emphasizes Shin's broad shoulders and trim waist. Sena wishes he could look half as good as Shin does. "I can indulge in one day off. I will just make it up tomorrow."

Sena fidgets under Shin's gaze.

"You don't have to speak so cryptically."

"Ah what makes you think - ? I mean - !" Sena gulps before recovering. He'd spoken in depth with his parents, and they had been supportive and excited in equal measures. They just wanted him to leave without regrets. "Well… I got an offer to play at an American high school. Notre Dame, ironically enough. I've been thinking about accepting it but…"

"But you haven't told your team yet."

"I feel like I'm abandoning them, or like… like I'm running away from my responsibilities."

"Hm… You would be the best candidate for Deimon's captain next year, but your other teammates would step up to the role as well."

Sena blushes. "Right, it's not like I'd be the only one who could…" Who could lead Deimon to repeat the championship next year. 'Monta, Komusubi, Kuroki… everyone is ready to fight next year… but if I leave…'

"Shin-san, do you think Deimon could win next year if I… If I leave?"

"Strategically speaking, you are Deimon's greatest offensive asset after Hiruma. There's no mistaking what you bring to the team. Deimon could do it. They have developed players now, but it'd be difficult."

"I don't want to let them down. I don't want to leave them as a team that had a miraculous year and then disappears after that."

"Give your team more credit. You can't win with just one strong player or even a handful of strong players."

"I've been thinking that while trying to decide what to tell them."

"So you have made up your mind, then?"

"I…" Sena looks out to the dark sea, the waves lapping against the yacht's edge. "I've never had this kind of opportunity before. I think Monta would kill me if I didn't take it."

"This may not amount to much," Shin clears his throat. He looks… nervous, looking at the ground, and Sena doesn't know what to make of that. "But I think you should go. I'd like to play against you next year, but that is a selfish thought of mine."

"I'll keep in touch with you," Sena blurts out. "I mean, I'll probably be emailing with Monta and Riku and other people but I can definitely, um, send letters since you're not so good with, um, y'know. And we'll definitely see each other again!" Sena scratches his cheek to hide his burning face.

"I would appreciate that," Shin says, letting out a low laugh.

Sena doesn't remember ever hearing Shin laugh before now; he pats his hot cheeks lightly to distract himself.

There's a strong breeze that pushes the clouds away from the moon. Its light shines down on the both of them, and Sena can make out something glinting from Shin's shirt sleeves now that the light is brighter. One sleeve shines more red, the other shines more blue. The DJ is playing a quieter song now, probably for couples, though Sena seriously doubts that there are any tonight.

"Are you feeling better now?"

"Yeah, actually." Sena shivers. "Cold."

Shin is looking at him again.

'Ah, might as well.' Figuring that their time is limited, Sena asks if Shin would help him put on the cufflinks, and Shin obliges readily. Shin is basically holding Sena's hand while he does it. His fingers are large but deft. It's the closest they've ever been off the field. There's a brief moment of understanding between them as Shin finishes and takes a step back; under the moonlight, a soft song playing beyond them, the boat gently swaying. ('The closest I'll get to slow dancing,' Sena thinks.)

They stay in their secluded section of the boat, enjoying the rest of evening in companionable quiet. What else is there to say?

…

Sena wakes up the next morning groggy but warm enough. Wrapped around him is a wrinkled, navy blue jacket.