#ish... i thnk thats the strongest one nsdhflsdkf

[leofemt]

life isn't always a fairytale, is it

Mizuki, the enigma, and his accidental conquests.

kasamizu, mizukimi, indoumizu, all one-sided/up for interpretation.

on ao3.

NOTE: hi i'm writer's block and welcome to jackass

act i: kasahara

"Mizuki Hisahito."

Nakazawa blinks.

"Sorry," he says, "are you here to apply for a managerial position?"

Mizuki stands staunchly, somehow seeming unshakeable despite his small frame- well, small compared to the other first year Inohara, the new goalie trainee, and other students who come to Nakazawa's workroom about Seiseki's soccer team.

"No." He says, something in his tone of voice making Nakazawa turn his chair completely to face the boy. "I'm here to ask about tryouts."

Nakazawa considers him.

"Have you played soccer before?" He asks- by his stance and how much of Mizuki's frame he can see, probably not, but you can never be sure.

Mizuki shakes his head.

"Never." He says, face unnervingly unreadable for a high school boy.

"So you would be starting in high school." Nakazawa sighs, leaning forward and propping his elbows on his knees. "Listen, Mizuki-kun-"

"Nakazawa-sensei." Mizuki says. "I'm going to work as hard as it takes."

Nakazawa stares.

"Plenty of kids say that, Mizuki-kun..." He trails off. "Not to doubt your dedication, but-"

Mizuki's expression doesn't change. That look in his eyes makes Nakazawa furrow his brows slightly, makes him sit up straight.

"Alright." He sighs. "Tryouts are in a week, on the pitch after school... I'll be expecting you there, Mizuki-kun."

"Thank you." Mizuki says formally, bowing a full bow, which makes Nakazawa frown in something like befuddlement, before taking his leave.

~~~~~~

"Minaki," Nakazawa leans over his desk at lunch, "you teach Year 1's Class C, right?"

The other teacher looks up.

"Yes, why?" She looks at him.

Nakazawa scratches his head.

"There's a kid..." He starts, "Mizuki Hisahito."

Minaki blinks.

"Mizuki..." She trails off. "Ah, Mizuki-kun... His grandfather passed away shortly before this year."

Nakazawa frowns.

"Really..." He mumbles.

~~~~~~

Mizuki does show up at tryouts.

"Mizuki Hisahito!" He announces when Nakazawa calls for lineup. "No prior experience."

There's snickering. No one shows up to Seiseki High's soccer team tryouts without experience- there are kids in the ranks who come to Seiseki soley for the soccer team, to have a shot at making the big leagues.

The kid next to him opens his mouth.

"Kasahara Junpei!" He almost shouts from nervousness. "I-I played forward for my junior high."

The captain makes a noise and marks it down- from his place next to him, Nakazawa can see the barely-legible scribbles on the spreadsheet of the names of first-years.

"Alright!" The captain says. "If that's everyone, your first task of tryouts is to run!"

There's murmuring.

"'Scuse me," one first-year calls out bravely, "Captain, are we gonna get to do more than run?"

"Of course," the captain replies, crossing his arms, fixing the students with a glare befitting of a third-year with sharp, dark eyes, "but running is the fundamental of soccer! If you can't run, you can't play soccer!"

~~~~~~

Mizuki makes it through 20 paces of the field before he collapses in abject exhaustion.

"Mizuki-kun," someone says, "right?"

Mizuki looks up.

There's a hand outstretched.

The boy leaning over him smiles- albeit a slightly nervous smile, but it's a friendly respite from the glares and suspicious looks from the rest of the trainees.

"I'm Kasahara Junpei." He says. "The look on your face is a little scary, Mizuki-kun..."

Mizuki blinks, clearing the frustration from his brow. He accepts Kasahara's hand and pulls himself up.

"Mizuki Hisahito." He says formally, before pausing. "Ah- you already knew that."

Kasahara can't help but laugh a little. Mizuki stares at him.

"Sorry..." Kasahara chuckles. His hand is still gripping Mizuki's, and he gives it a shake before letting go. "Nice to meet you."

"Same here." Mizuki replies.

"Kasahara! Mizuki!" The coach bellows from the sidelines. "Get running!"

They do.

~~~~~~

"Mizuki-kun?"

Mizuki looks up.

"Kasahara-kun." He says, moderately surprised.

Kasahara smiles sheepishly and scratches the back of his head.

"Do you mind if I eat with you?" He asks, gesturing to the empty seat on the other side of Mizuki. Blinking in slight surprise, Mizuki shakes his head.

"How are you feeling after tryouts yesterday?" Kasahara sits and unwraps his lunch- something packed from home, it looks like- and glances up at him. "Since you haven't played sports before..."

Mizuki frowns.

"I'm going to play." He says staunchly. Kasahara's eyes widen and he waves his hands.

"Ah, I'm sure you will!" He exclaims before settling again, smiling that sheepish smile. "Mizuki-kun... you have that kind of personality, you know."

Mizuki cocks his head.

"Personality?" He says.

Kasahara nods, picking up a piece of egg with his chopsticks.

"Personality." He repeats. "I haven't known you for long, Mizuki-kun, but I feel like you can do anything that you try..."

Mizuki shakes his head.

"Kasahara." He says- Kasahara pauses for a minute at the dropped honorific, but doesn't say anything. "What does the voice inside of you say?"

Kasahara blinks.

"Voice?" He asks. "Inside of me?"

Mizuki nods sagely and takes a bite of his bun.

"The voice." He confirms.

Kasahara shakes his head.

"A voice inside me, huh..." He wonders, chopsticks pausing. "To get into a good university?"

Mizuki purses his lips.

"The voice inside of me..." He says. That feeling starts to spark within him again, the burning in his gut. "It tells me to break something."

Kasahara stares at him.

"Break... something?" He exclaims. "Physically? Mizuki-"

Mizuki shakes his head again.

"Not physically." He continues. "It tells me to work harder... to try more, to run faster, to kick harder..."

He trails off again. Kasahara looks at him for another moment, then bursts out laughing.

Mizuki watches him, befuddled.

"What?" He asks.

Kasahara's chuckles die down, and he wraps a supporting arm around his stomach before looking Mizuki in the eye again.

"That's your personality, Mizuki." He smiles, and it's somehow self-depricating, makes Mizuki want to pull Kasahara along with him. "You're the type of person to never give up, I guess. An idealist."

Mizuki blinks.

"An idealist?"

~~~~~~

Mizuki starts running laps around the outer fence later that day.

~~~~~~

Two weeks later.

"Mizuki!" A voice calls from the school gates.

Mizuki, panting from running, feet sore and legs aching, lets himself slow down. It's someone in a bright yellow raincoat, an umbrella over their head, holding something in their arms. It's raining, and the water has fully soaked into his hair and his clothes, chilling him.

"Kasahara." He calls back, drawing to a stop, walking towards his friend. "It's Saturday- what are you doing here?"

Kasahara laughs out loud. He's smiled much more often in the two weeks they've been training together.

"Like you can talk." He replies, holding out one of the cans in his hands as Mizuki draws near, rain squelching in his sneakers. His socks are soaked to the bone. The rain pitters and patters insistently along every exposed surface, and the air smells like wet concrete.

"I'm training." Mizuki says bluntly, but takes the can- hot tea- nonetheless. "Training is good-"

Kasahara shakes his head.

"Not too much of it," he sighs, "especially if you haven't been training before... try and take other peoples' concern into account, geez."

"Sorry." Mizuki combs a hand through his short, wet hair, making it spike up from his scalp. They move to the protection of a large tree by the gates. The only noise is the rain falling on the environment around them.

"Kasahara," Mizuki breaks the near-silence, "do you think we'll make it to Nationals?"

~~~~~~

Second year.

"I'm never going to become a regular."

Mizuki turns around.

Kasahara is the only other one in the dark, empty locker room. He slams his hand against the metal door- it rattles with the force of the blow- and hunches over further, as though experiencing some gut-wrenching pain.

"Kasahara-" Mizuki starts, taking a step towards the other boy.

"I'm never going to become a regular." Kasahara gasps, a repetition, and he almost falls to his knees- Mizuki rushes forward to try and support him, but he's not fast enough. Kasahara crumples to the floor, kneeling and hunched, and all Mizuki can do is crouch beside him and place a wary hand on his best friend's shoulder.

"Kasahara..." He says, watching how the other boy's shoulders begin to shake, and feels something inhuman rise in him, because his instinct right now is silent- he doesn't know what to do. "Kasahara, I-"

"It's alright." Kasahara pants, back heaving, and Mizuki sees something bright catch the light streaming from the half-open door on its way falling from Kasahara's downturned face to splatter invisibly on the dark floor. "I can see the facts, Mizuki."

Mizuki stills.

He's right, after all. Kasahara isn't a remarkable player, especially for a forward- not compared to the current captain, and to the talented monster first year Ooshiba, who had scored three goals over his upperclassman with more experience and technique in today's practice match alone, and to Mizuki himself, an established regular as of this year and the one whose name is being drafted for next year's captain.

Kasahara won't ever become a regular.

Words seem to refuse to come from Mizuki's mouth.

When Kasahara turns, still hiding his face, and his forehead comes into contact wtih Mizuki's lowered shoulder, it seems natural for Mizuki to tighten his grip on his shoulder, to keep him there- Kasahara finally breaks, that tempered, hesitant demeanor falling away, and sobs painfully into Mizuki's shirt.

He wants to play.

He wants to become a regular.

He wants to play.

He wants, wants, wants- wants attention on him, wants to be in the spotlight, just for a moment- wants all this practice to mean something, to himself and to his teammates and to Seiseki as a whole...

Mizuki can't do anything but smooth his hand over the back of Kasahara's neck and listen, both of them sitting in the dark, their voices and their touch the only things connecting them.

~~~~~~

The beginning of third year.

"Mizuki." Kasahara puts a hand on his arm after practice one day. "Can I talk to you for a minute?"

He pulls Mizuki out of the locker room, to the side of the building.

"Kasahara." Mizuki says, watching his face. "What's wrong? We have plenty of good first-years this year..."

Kasahara looks him in the eyes.

"I'm leaving." He says. "Mizuki, I'm leaving Seiseki."

Mizuki feels his heart stop.

"Leaving." He repeats instead of saying the thousands of things he wants to say. "Kasahara, you-"

Kasahara smiles. This doesn't seem an appropriate time for smiling, Mizuki thinks, because he's just been told his best friend of two years is leaving, but Kasahara always smiles at the wrong times- when he's self-deprecating, when he's unhappy, when he's upset, and it makes Mizuki want to communicate his feelings, except he can't. No words are enough to communicate how he feels for Kasahara.

"It's my grandmother." Kasahara confesses, that unbearably sad smile still on his face. "She's not getting better- actually, she's gotten worse-"

Mizuki swallows.

"Kasahara." He croaks, and this has never happened- it's never felt like he has things that he wants to say so bad, things that want so terribly to be free that they claw at his throat in an attempt to find their form as the perfect words and sprout from his mouth, but there's something holding them back- it's Kasahara, of course it's Kasahara, who says things that other people understand.

Kasahara looks away.

"When?" Mizuki manages to get out.

"Two months." Kasahara says, shoulders hunched. "Right after the game with Saku."

Two months.

Two months.

Two months.

It sounds like a death sentence.

~~~~~~

He can't tell Kasahara to stay.

He can't stop feeling like he wants Kasahara to stay.

Pointless.

~~~~~~

"Mizuki." Nakazawa calls out to him from his workdesk. "Come here for a second- I have the list of starters for the game with Saku."

He does.

Kasahara's not on it.

~~~~~~

They're going to win, he says.

He's going to win for Kasahara, he thinks.

~~~~~~

They don't win.

act ii: kimishita

"Mizuki!" The captain calls. "Come here for a second."

Mizuki complies, leaving his conversation with Kasahara behind. Kimishita tracks him out of the corner of his eye.

"Oi." Ooshiba comes up behind him, shoves him out of the way. "Move."

Kimishita ignores him in favor of keeping his attention on the conversation between Mizuki and the captain- Ooshiba stares at him for a minute before scoffing and turning away. Kimishita doesn't hear.

"That guy..." He mutters. Mizuki- the second year- an enigma for sure, enough so that Kimishita is incredible intrigued and wary at the same time. "How can someone so dumb be the team's ace already?"

"Talking to yourself already, Kimishita the Idiot?" Ooshiba sneers at him again, only to be rebuffed when Kimishita doesn't reply, just shoves the rest of his non-practice stuff into the locker and turns around to prop his cleat up on a bench, pulling on the laces.

"Mizuki..." He can hear snippets of their conversation. "Forwards... starting..."

Kimishita finds himself unfocused.

~~~~~~

"Oi." Someone- someone unfriendly-sounding- says from behind. "Mizuki-senpai."

Mizuki turns around.

It's Kimishita- the new first-year midfielder, bone-chillingly precise and terrifyingly intelligent, but takes himself too seriously- and Mizuki faces him completely.

"Kimishita?" He replies. "What is it?"

"Am I the starting midfielder for the next match?" He asks bluntly, pointedly, and Mizuki cocks his head.

"Starting?" He repeats. "I don't know."

Kimishita growls.

"I saw you talking to the captain earlier." He mutters. "Senpai."

Mizuki shrugs.

"Captain doesn't tell me anything." He says, turning back to the field. "I don't need to know anything."

Kimishita crosses his arms.

"Don't need to know anything?" He scoffs. "Senpai."

Mizuki shakes his head.

~~~~~~

Recieving Kimishita's passes really is like magic, Mizuki thinks as the ball rolls right between his feet for the umpteenth time, just in time for him to shoot, score, hear the stands roar in front of him- the thrill of a point is quickly encompassed by the hunger for more, as it always is, and he shouts before turning back to the goal. Another, another, another.

~~~~~~

Later that year.

"I'm sorry we lost." Mizuki approaches Kimishita on the abandoned soccer pitch. They're not going to nationals this year, it would seem, and Mizuki knows that the captain is in his dorm in a state in which he does not want to be seen.

Kimishita shakes his head.

"We're going next year." He says firmly, and even though it's been less than a year, the mature tone of his voice makes Mizuki only more determined to see the team through. The feeling of failure floods him again, of Kimishita sending him a perfect pass, as always, and being blocked at the last second, at hearing the silence of his teammates as the cheers from the other team's side of the stands roar around them- it's his fault, isn't it, that someone has prevailed over them. Mizuki feels his resolve.

"Yeah." He replies, affirmative. "We're going next year."

~~~~~~

Next year.

"You're not satisfied with Kimishita's passes, are you."

Mizuki doesn't move- it's Taira, after all, and any movement can be a dead giveaway, but he cocks his head.

"Not really." He says.

~~~~~~

"I heard you!" Kimishita shouts. "I heard you say you weren't satisfied with my passes!"

The whole team stares. Kimishita's voice has taken on an edge of desperation.

"Tell me what you want!" He almost begs. A feeling starts to creep in Mizuki's gut. "Am I not accurate enough? Tell me what's wrong with my passes-"

"I have no idea." Mizuki interrupts.

Kimishita stares at him.

"Is it that strange to never be satisfied?" He continues, remembering what he had told Kasahara in their first year. "I have this voice in my head... that tells me I can do more, run faster, shoot harder-"

Kimishita exhales in disbelief.

~~~~~~

Mizuki finds Kimishita after practice a few days later.

"Kimishita." He begins awkwardly. Seiseki's front gates are abandoned except for both of them- he knows Kimishita is almost always one of the last to leave practice.

Kimishita glances sideways.

"Captain." He says. "What is it?"

"I-" Mizuki pauses. "Did I hurt your feelings?"

Kimishita looks at him, properly this time.

"Eh?" He exclaims, a flush rising to his cheeks. "How did you get that idea?"

Mizuki frowns.

"When I said to Taira that I was not satisfied with your passes." He replies, confused. "You-"

Kimishita's face burns red- why, Mizuki's not really sure, because it had been a simple misunderstanding, hadn't it?

"Nevermind that!" He insists. "Drop it, you idiot."

Mizuki starts to say something, but thinks better of it.

"Alright." He replies instead.

act iii: indou

Mizuki meets Indou Kaoru in his first year.

"Mizuki." Kasahara whispers- they're at the annual district-wide training camp, after their second match. "We have to go, another team is going to need this locker room-"

"My shirt is stuck." Mizuki says, deadpan, tugging helplessly at where his jersey is caught in the edge of a locker. "Kasahara-"

Kasahara sighs and pinches at the edge of where it's caught, but it's too late- while they're fussing over it, the locker room door bursts open.

"I'm telling you, Shuuji." An annoyed voice. "Mango-strawberry is the best flavor combination!"

"You're such an idiot, Kaoru." A petulant voice. "Strawberry tastes terrible."

"Well, I knew you had bad taste." A sniff. "Someone who actually likes grape-flavor..."

The two round the corner into the main locker room and lock eyes with Kasahara and Mizuki, who are crouched over a locker in which the hem of Mizuki's jersey is very, very stuck.

"Uh." Kasahara breaks the awkward silence. "Sorry, we were about to leave-"

The taller one- his shirt is electric pink and his hair is the wildest Mizuki has ever seen, and something about the boy puts him on edge instantly- waves a hand.

"The team won't be in for a few more minutes." He says dismissively, and bowl-cut-boy next to him nods.

"Ah." Kasahara replies awkwardly. "Okay... Mizuki, let's-"

The taller one takes a step forwards.

"Mi-zu-ki?" He enunciates, suddenly seeming much more interested, and there's a serious glint in his eyes that's simultaneously unnerving and fascinating. "Mizuki Hisahito, Seiseki first year?"

Mizuki frowns.

"Do I know you?" He asks shortly.

Fuzz-head shakes his head and chuckles.

"Not yet." He says, drawing even closer, until it's to the point where Kasahara feels uncomfortable. Mizuki doesn't back away from his stare.

Tall boy extends a hand.

"Indou Kaoru." He says, a grin creeping up his face. "Saku High first year."

Mizuki takes the hand and shakes shortly, dropping it as soon as possible.

"Seiseki's freak, huh." Indou tilts his head, considering, eyes never leaving Mizuki's face, a disturbing change from when he and his baby-faced friend had come into the locker room, arguing over the merits of different flavorings.

"Sorry?" Kasahara interrupts for the first time, a frown creasing his brow. "What did you-"

"That's not the right word..." Indou glances down, as though considering something, before looking back up. "Monster. I've heard rumors about you, the first-year monster."

"We'll be out of your way." Mizuki replies, glancing back down to where his shirt is still caught in the metal- one final pull by Kasahara dislodges it, and he brushes down his jersey with the same hands that he's just shaken Indou's with.

"I feel like we're going to be interesting, Mizuki." Mizuki's eyes narrow at the dropped honorific, but he doesn't say a word, and lets Kasahara pull him out of the locker room by the wrist.

~~~~~~

Later that year, Mizuki learns that the boy is Indou Kaoru, midfielder prodigy of Saku High, and that he and Narukami Shuuji are a midfielder-forward duo of superhuman proportions. Rumors circulate about them- those two are going far, those two are childhood friends, those two are only first years and they can do this much already- it stokes the fire in Mizuki's gut, and he runs twice as many laps as usual.

~~~~~~

Second year.

He's improved.

His first thought upon seeing Indou again.

He barely remembers their first encounter, and Seiseki hasn't had a match with Saku since then, but he has the sense that the other boy and his partner have undergone extreme, ferocious improvement. It makes him both wary and excited, and pushes him to train just a little harder- not exactly a rival, but someone he watches out of the corner of his eye.

"Oi!" A voice. "Mizuki!"

Mizuki turns around.

A familiarly hot pink shirt.

"Mizuki!" Indou jogs up to him, a grin on his face. Mizuki keeps his mouth tight, his eyes staunch. "Don't tell me you forgot about me already!"

"Indou." He says by way of greeting.

Indou smiles at him.

"We're finally facing each other, huh." His teeth glint, and Mizuki is reminded vaguely of a wolf. "I've been waiting for this, you know. Seiseki's monster."

Mizuki frowns.

"Were you the one who started that?" He asks, referring to that absurd nickname- the monster of Seiseki.

Indou shakes his head. His ridiculous hair falls with the movement.

"That sprung up on its own." He shrugs. "I just happen to have a good eye for potential."

Mizuki narrows his eyes.

"Alright." He says. "If you'll excuse me."

It's not a question. Mizuki turns away, heading towards his teammates on the other side of the pitch, and ignore's Indou's voice calling out after him.

~~~~~~

End of third year.

"Mizuki."

It's Indou. Mizuki knows without looking up, but he does anyways.

"Indou." He replies.

Indou frowns at him.

"We've been rivals all these years," he says, "and you can't even call me by my first name? Hisahito."

"I would rather not." Mizuki turns away. "If there's nothing more-"

Indou grabs him by the arm.

Mizuki pauses.

"I'll-" Indou pauses, a crack finally showing in that unnervingly cheerful demeanor, an uncertain twitch flickering across his face. "I'll see you on the pro pitch."

Mizuki shrugs his hand off.

"Perhaps." He replies, and strides away, not looking back.