#michael spoke in english not japanese almost the whole time which surprised me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lanayrusea · 7 years

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aftg gift exchange!

@callron hi i’m your person! i have no idea if this is what you wanted but it’s what i wrote so i hope you like it!! i tried to focus on neil since you said you love him (i also love him), plus renison. (also: i use v minimal japanese in this but in case anyone comes for me, just kno i’ve been studying it for six years. i still make mistakes all the time though lol)

ok please enjoy!! @aftgexchange

By all accounts, it was not a game meant for winning.

It was not a death match. They were not playing a nemesis, or even a friendly rival. They were not playing anyone they knew. It was a Japanese team from Fukuoka touring the States for practice, or fun, or murder. They were one of the first official college Exy teams on record, and had sent an astonishingly high percentage of their players to the Olympics. Kevin had nearly cried when Jeremy told him they shredded USC.

Simply, they were out of the Foxes’ league.

They would have stood a chance, Neil thought, with Andrew in goal, but Andrew was currently out of commission. No one was quite sure how he’d done it, but the monster had somehow managed to contract pneumonia. He was over the worst of it and had returned from the hospital, but still refused any drugs beyond those that were absolutely necessary. Wymack nearly blew a gasket the last time Andrew opened his mouth to complain about being sick. It hadn’t been pretty.

So Andrew was on house arrest, or Fox Tower arrest. Renee had filled in seamlessly during the local scrimmages scheduled that week, but Neil could tell the team had silently come to terms with the fact that their match against Fukuoka would be, in all likelihood, a wreck.

It was not a game meant for winning.

Even so, Neil began to feel his usual nerves in the hours before the match, though there was nothing at stake other than the Foxes’ largely nonexistent dignity. The game wasn’t even going to be broadcasted. From a spectator’s perspective, Neil figured, if you were going to watch your team get slaughtered, it might as well be by another team you knew. Losing to strangers was just embarrassing. And you couldn’t say, Oh, next time. At this point, the only thing keeping the Foxes in the game at all was their determination, as always, to put up a good fight. Wymack had little to say during their pre-game meeting—mumbled something or other about pyrrhic victory—and set Dan on them instead.

“If we can do anything,” she said, “we can make them remember what it cost.”

Renee nodded and said sensibly, “When you put down a dog, the dog still bites.”

For a moment the Foxes stood frozen, then glanced around at each other, all wearing the same expression: Did she really just say that? Am I nuts?

Allison was the first to recover. “Renee, sweetest, we’ll work on your analogies. Dan, don’t worry. We’ll give ’em hell.”

“Do the Japanese have hell?” asked Nicky.

“I will box your ears,” said Kevin evenly, though the question hadn’t been directed at him.

“Do it after the match, Queen Elizabeth,” said Dan. “Okay. We all know our jobs. Renee: don’t even worry about what happens past half-court. Backliners: work extra hard. Neil: dance. Kevin—” He shot her a vicious look, but she didn’t back down. “Don’t overwork your left hand. It’s not worth it.”

Wymack made a noise of agreement. Kevin bristled but said nothing.

“If you need to get mad, get mad. Fuck it, you should already be mad—this is plain unfair. They’re three times our size. There’s no stakes in terms of our actual season, so if you need to punch someone, just make sure I don’t beat you to it.”

Appreciative laughter.

“I know our hopes aren’t high,” Dan said, “especially after hearing what they did to Kevin’s idol—”

Several people said several different things at once. Dan powered through.

“—but I still think we have a chance offensively. Defense: every pass you guys intercept, every shot you block will be a victory, and it’ll make victory against the blockheads in our league that much easier. Neil, Kevin: I want three goals each from you.”

“And?” Neil said, knowing what had to be coming.

“And,” Dan continued, “I know threats of extra drills and runs don’t scare you, you masochistic bastards, so if you don’t score enough, you’ll take turns in goal during our next scrimmage and let Renee and the monster laugh all they like.”

Neil’s jaw dropped. Nicky hooted. Wymack was grinning.

“That’s how it’s going to be?” said Kevin. He sounded riled, which, Neil realized, was probably exactly what Dan wanted.

She smiled. “That’s how it’s going to be.”

“Goddamn,” muttered Matt.

“Keep it together, Boyd,” said Allison.

Dan clapped once, and suddenly everyone was back at attention. “Alright, you heathens! I think it’s time we light this thing. We have nothing to lose, so let’s play like it. Hell—let’s make this the one game Andrew actually wishes he’d played. Renee, have I told you recently I adore you?”

“I adore you too, Dan.”

“Lovely. Coach?”

Wymack stood. “Dan Wilds, you’re a phenomenon. Strikers, that was no joke she just pulled. Three goals apiece. Get out there.”

Neil was going to have to ask Andrew about basic goalkeeping strategy.

The team from Fukuoka emerged onto the court at the same time, carrying their helmets under their arms as though to mirror the Foxes. They were called Hakuchō, the Swans. (“Their mascot is a swan? Isn’t that a little…underwhelming?” “Underwhelming? Have you ever met a swan?” “Have I ever met a swan?” “They’re vicious! They don’t give a shit whether you live or die!” “Are you implying that a swan has tried to kill you?” “Listen, those fuckers come out of nowhere.” “Are we all hearing this? Confirmation of Nicky Hemmick’s near-death-by-swan experience?” “DAN, ALLISON’S BEING MEAN TO ME!”) They looked impeccably prepared; their drills were immaculate. There was a certain quiet about them, too, the kind that came from confidence, not from lack of volume. The thought arose suddenly in Neil’s head: I want us to be that good.

He glanced at Kevin, who was grim with anticipation. Neil knew he felt the same.

Warmups went by fast. Neil listened to the Swans talk to each other, getting a feel for the easy, even sound of the Japanese language when it wasn’t coming out of the mouth of a mob boss. It was a stark contrast to all the languages he knew, which seemed to lean more heavily on consonants. Japanese sounded open-mouthed. He was listening to them rattle off calls and signals when familiar laughter caught his attention.

Neil looked around. Who—?

It was Kevin. He was a few meters from Neil, doing stretches he had made up for his left arm, but he had completely abandoned them and was now leaning on his racquet, stifling laughter. There were also two Swans nearby, looking bewildered. To Neil’s surprise, Kevin caught his breath and spoke to them.

He had completely forgotten Kevin spoke Japanese.

How did I forget something like that?

Neil was about to grab Kevin and get him away from the poor Swans, but unexpectedly, they began to laugh, too. He caught one word that sounded like English: pudding.

From near the goal, Allison said loudly, “I can’t believe it! The queen bitch is making friends!”

From near the Vixens, Aaron said, “Is he dying?”

Katelyn said, giggling, “Aaron.”

A whistle blew, and Kevin and the two Swans left for their respective sides of the court with a last grin. Neil jogged a few paces to catch up with him.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Kevin said, then snickered. “God, I can’t even look at you.”

“Me?” Neil ran a self-conscious hand through his hair. The week before, he had run out of shampoo and, out of desperation, used some from an unlabeled travel bottle, discovering a split-second too late that it was old hair dye. He managed to scrub out most of it before it took, but his roots were still tinged brown. Allison had lent him some of her fancy princess shampoo in the meantime (“vegan, of course”), and now he smelled like mint and coconut. (Somehow, it didn’t exude the same kind of power on him as it did on Allison.) But he had thought the team was over teasing him about that.

“Strikers, get to your positions!”

That was Dan—she had lost the coin toss. They put on their helmets and hustled.

“It’s alright,” Neil heard Matt say. “This is still a game, folks! We can’t get discouraged.”

“Yeah,” said Nicky. “Instead, just think of how shitfaced Kevin’s going to get tonight and how funny it’ll be when he drunk dials Jeremy.”

Even Renee laughed at that one.

The whistle blew.

First half was a fiasco. Dan was ready to kill Aaron, who had maybe never cared less about the score of a game, but she stayed furiously silent during their halftime meeting. Matt was breathing hard; he had been running almost as much as the strikers. Allison had undone the numerous braids Renee used to keep her short hair out of her face and now combed her fingers through the waves of it. Renee did not speak or move the whole time, except to drink. She was conserving her energy.

Neil had scored two goals. Kevin had scored one. They were down three.

“Three,” Wymack said upon their entrance, “is not fucking bad.”

“It’s not good,” Kevin shot back.

“Whose fault is that?” said Allison.

“Everyone’s,” Matt said forcefully, before Kevin and Allison could get to each other’s throats. “That’s why it’s called a team.”

“Boyd’s right,” said Wymack. “There’s not enough incentive here. I was pessimistic before, and that was a mistake on my part, but I really think we can put a dent in these guys’ ego. There might not be any camera crews or flashing lights, but I’ve seen the reporters. They’re watching you. They’d be stupid not to.”

Aaron muttered something unintelligible. Neil and Dan glared at him.

“Look,” Wymack continued, “they’re everything we knew they’d be. They’re strong, they’re fast, there’s a fucking million of them. Defense, you’re doing great, but I need more from you. Aaron Michael Minyard, do not test me.”

Aaron scowled.

“Renee,” said Wymack, “I know you can give me more. I’ve watched you work for years now, and I can tell when you’re holding back.”

Renee allowed herself a small smile. It occurred to Neil that maybe she had been waiting for this—for the rest of her teammates to wake up.

Wymack looked around at them. “That goes for all of you. Where’s your effort? Neil, I know how fast you are. Kevin—one goal? Really?”

Kevin flushed angrily and opened his mouth.

“No!” Wymack interrupted. “Offense, you are where our win lies. Don’t just stand there looking surly. Show these assholes you’re the team that’s come out on top, time and time again. Knock them over the head with it. So what they’re incredible? They’re not expecting a challenge. And so far, you’re not giving them one.”

Neil knew he was right. Dan looked ashamed.

Wymack sighed. “You’ve played this game before, Foxes. You’ve played this exact game. How many damn times, I’ve lost count. Don’t make me start thinking you’ve gotten soft.” After a moment, he sneered. “How come no one’s thrown a punch yet?”

Allison grinned wolfishly. She was re-braiding Renee’s hair with deft, confident fingers. “Great point, Coach. Hemmick, don’t let them walk on you.”

Nicky looked startled to be addressed. “Hey, I’m a lover.”

Neil suddenly felt more awake. “No, Nicky,” he said, “she’s right. Their number four—”

“Kobayashi,” said Kevin.

They stared at him.

He shrugged. “That’s what it says on her jersey.”

Neil turned back to Nicky. “She’s taking advantage of your delayed left turn. Your weight’s not evenly distributed. I’m not saying fix it right now,” he added quickly, “I’m just saying don’t let her use it.”

“Switch spots with me,” Matt suggested. “You’ll have to pay closer attention to Renee but I’ll bet the advantages compile. We’ll see if we can trip them up.”

Nicky clicked his tongue. “Carpe fucking diem.”

Dan finally spoke. “Maybe we can turn this into a good thing,” she said thoughtfully. “They were wary of us at first, or at least our reputation, but now they think we’re no hot shit. They’re too good to let their guard down completely, but if we come out hard and fast maybe we can rip a hole in it.”

Neil nodded. “They won’t know what hit them. If they’re too shocked to respond for even just a minute, we can own the rest of the game.”

Kevin raised an eyebrow. “Well, we can,” he said pointedly, then glanced from Aaron to Allison and Renee.

Allison stiffened. “Yes, Highness?”

Neil said, “Kevin” at the same time Renee said, “Allie.”

“No fighting,” said Dan. “Defense is pulling their weight, and if they need help, I can always fill in. They’ve certainly blocked more shots on goal than we’ve made at this point.”

Warning whistle. The Foxes started putting their helmets back on.

“Now’s the time,” said Wymack. “They’re not invincible. Win it right now or go home and tell Andrew how lousy you are without him.”

Everyone groaned.

Wymack grinned. “That’s my Foxes.”

By all accounts, it was not a game meant for winning. But when had the Foxes ever listened to anyone else’s account?

It was not an important game. It didn’t determine their spot in a bracket. The only people who watched it live were there in person. Their opponent was an elite team from Japan whose business it was to slaughter anyone they were put up against. The reporters made sure to put all of it in their columns—maybe the USC Trojans had a rough day, or maybe the PSU Foxes got lucky for the thousandth time in a row. But there was nothing in it for them, and they still tried their damnedest.

And the Foxes still won.

That Renee Walker, one of the journalists said to another, shaking her head. I’m stunned.

I know, said the other. And we thought Minyard was scary.

Neil’s head was a blur by the time the buzzer screamed at him to stop running. He felt like he had been playing against USC again—it was ridiculously unfair how good these people were while still being so sportsmanlike. He was mad that he couldn’t be mad at them. They were so courteous. How could someone be courteous while ramming you into the floor with an Exy racquet?

Needless to say, no one threw any punches.

The Foxes got better every passing moment of the second half, but so did Fukuoka. Neil had been right: they returned to the game with just enough force to shake their opponent’s ground without blowing themselves out. And the Swans retaliated. Just as he began to recognize some of their strategy calls, they stopped using them. Kevin wasn’t playing like he was bored anymore. Aaron wasn’t playing with one eye shut.

And Renee. God, had she woken up. She was a queen on her throne and her soldiers let no one usurp her.

The final score was 8-7, and the last goal was Neil’s.

It was like waking up from a dream. He could see his teammates yelling something to him but the stadium was so loud he couldn’t hear them. He leaned on his racquet for a moment, then ran for the congregation at half-court. Kevin came up behind him and smacked him on the shoulder so hard he tripped. Dan’s laughter cut through the commotion.

“Kevin!”

“Sorry!”

Kevin helped him to his feet and ruffled his half-dyed hair. Neil swatted Kevin’s hand away, grinning, and then they were shoving each other around and then they were at half-court, and Matt was practically suffocating him, and he could hear Katelyn calling after Aaron and Wymack saying, “Natalie Renee Walker!” Matt released him to hug Nicky and he was immediately seized by Dan, who said, “Neil, you devil!” and let him go just in time for them to see Allison grab Renee’s face, pull her from the throng of Foxes, and kiss her full on the mouth. Unless he was much mistaken, the cheering intensified.

When Allison pulled away, Renee looked more flustered and more pleased than Neil had ever seen her, but she also looked like she was about to faint. Breathlessly, she said, “Allie, I love you—but I’m never playing like that again.”

Allison laughed and swept Renee off her feet.

Behind them, Nicky was laughing at Kevin’s expression so hard Neil thought he might fall over. Kevin looked dumbfounded.

“You, uh…okay?” Neil asked him.

All Kevin could say was, “Wow.”

“Nicky,” said Matt, “are you breathing?”

Nicky managed, “He had no fucking idea.”

They lined up for handshakes (Allison almost carried Renee through), then began to head back to the locker rooms. Neil was following Matt in to hear Wymack and get changed when someone called his number.

“Ten! Short boy!”

Neil whirled around to see Swan four, one of the starting strikers, jogging over to him. Kobayashi, Kevin had called her. She offered him a quick bow of the head and said, in lightly accented English, “Sorry for laughing at you, Josten. Before the game started.”

“That’s what that was about?” he said. “I don’t mind. I know I look ridiculous.”

“We have a word for that in Japan,” she said. “Purin-atama. It means ‘pudding-head.’ In Japan pudding comes with chocolate on top and vanilla on bottom, like your hair. But usually we do it on purpose. That’s what is funny.”

Neil grinned. It was funny. “Thanks for telling me. I’ve been called worse names.”

“Your team is amazing,” Kobayashi said. “I’m so surprised we lost! And you’re really fast.”

“Kevin is better,” he said, then clarified, “Number two.”

“Oh, he is good. When I sat on the bench I just watched him. His Japanese is pretty good, too. I was surprised he speaks.”

Neil almost said, I was, too, but caught himself. “He doesn’t use it much. I’m not sure he likes it.”

“Really? If he teaches me some drills I can teach him some curse words. He seems interested enough.”

Kobayashi glanced over his head, and Neil followed her gaze. Kevin was indeed watching them, not surreptitiously at all. His frown disappeared when he saw them looking back.

“Come on, kid!” he called, feigning nonchalance.

“Looks like they need me,” Neil said. “Good game, Kobayashi.”

“Otsukaresama,” she said with a smile and a nod. “Maybe I’ll see you soon, Ten. My team says we want to meet that infamous goalkeeper of yours.”

Neil laughed. “Oh, him.”

“Yes, him. They tell us you two are—what’s the polite way to say? ‘Involved’? Where is he, anyway?”

“He’s in bed with a bad cold because he refuses to take his medicine.”

Kobayashi smirked. “He’ll be in bed with more than that when we’re through with him.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Until next time?”

“Count on it.”

She gave him a two-fingered salute and returned to her Swans. And Neil returned to his Foxes.

#the foxhole court #all for the game #aftg #tfc #aftgexchange #callron #my posts

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