Hey Stranger from the metro

Perhaps it was the fact that there was nowhere else to stand, or that his two constant companions were bickering so loudly, that people were starting to give them glares, that he decided to stand next to her.

Kai decided that it was the latter.

Honestly, she seemed perfectly normal; the type of person one expects to see on a metro and forget within minutes; just another high school student on the 6:30 metro to Shibuya .

He barely spared her a glance before turning to his phone screen in the hopes that people would not associate him with the now-shouting pair, who were teammates from his soccer club.

“Are they friends of yours?”

He glanced up to see her looking at him, a plain black notebook and pencil in her hands. She raised an eyebrow.

“No.”

“So you do know them.”

It was a statement, not a question.That was when he decided that he disliked the girl. So he ignored her.

The girl in question reciprocated.

***

He saw the same thing everyday; sometimes the head of dark wavy locks streaked with teal and royal blue was bent over the notebook, moving the pencil furiously; sometimes, she simply read a book while holding the handholds; other days, the caramel-skinned girl listened to music through her headphones while swaying to the movement of the metro, gazing at the scenery that flashed by.

Sometimes she attempted to start a conversation. She succeeded if she was trying to initiate a battle of insults.

“Where are your friends?”

“They’re not my friends.”

“I suppose so, since you were attempting to look like you don’t know them,” she mused, her hand under her chin.

“ ‘least I know people, unlike ya Bookworm.”

She smirked. “Thanks, Strawberry-head.”

He sighed and plugged his earphones into his phone.

    ***

There was no doubt that Kai loved soccer. For as long as he could remember, he had looked up to soccer stars as his role models; kicked around a soccer ball with the other kids on his street, and chased seniors from high school football teams, begging them to coach him.

So why was he feeling that way he was now? What was this hollow dull ache in his chest when he played with his team?

“Maybe you should spend more time with the team, my prodigy,” Coach Akio said. “You might be feeling lonely.”

He held himself back from retorting. Spend more time with Otomo and Haru who were all chummy with him to gain the attention of the popular girls from school? With Kenji who was always looking for ways to trip and embarrass him? No, he would rather eat six helpings of his grandmother’s overly salty and soggy brussel sprouts with fish flakes and seaweed rice than do that.

“Get back to practising my boy, we have a match coming up. If we win this, we go to Nationals, so cheer up, yeah?”

He did try. He really did. It just didn’t work. He looked at his mentor of ten years with new eyes. Was he a person with dreams to the elderly coach, or merely a pawn on his path for fame?

He suddenly felt like he was a traveller walking through the ruins of a village with only the moon and stars as his companions.

*** 

He panted as he looked at the countdown. 5 minutes and 32 seconds.

Two more goals. That’s all he needed to get to Nationals. Pass and play. Pass and play. Coach Akio’s only advice. 

He could get past the midfielders with a nutmeg or two and maybe a chop dribble. . .

“PASS KAI!” Coach’s voice screamed from the sidelines. His skin pricked from the glares of his teammates. 

He passed the ball.

***

54 seconds.

He was so close. Just a few more feet and he could score. . .

A defender blocked his path. Kai nutmegged him within a second, running behind the hulky guy to retrieve the ball. 

“HARU’S OPEN, PASS!”

36 seconds.

Kai could shoot, he had high chances. Haru was open and nearer to the goal.

“PASS MY BOY! DON’T HOG THE BALL!”

He sent a long shot to Haru, who ran the last couple feet and shot, sending the ball straight into the net.

His heart hammered against his chest; the players breathed heavily. It was all drowned out by the cheering and screaming of the crowd.

His teammates ran and placed Haru on their shoulders, shouting along.

He didn’t care. 

No, he couldn’t care. 

The now familiar sensation flooded his chest once again as his senses dulled until it was just him, the moon and the stars in the meadow of wildflowers and regret.

***

The trashcan hit the wall, empty snack wrappers, potato peels and mould-covered bread spilling out over the concrete ground.

Kai ignored the throbbing in his foot and the nasty glare of the tabby cat perched on a windowsill.

A drop of water fell on his nose. Then another, and another. 

He pressed his forehead against the cool wall of the house as he let the drizzle soak through his clothes.

Why did he feel these pangs, this boiling in his blood?

***

“You look terrible.” 

He stared daggers at the girl who had not bothered to look up from her notebook.

“But then again, you always do Strawberry-head.”

He grit his teeth.

“ ‘least my hair doesn’t look like a hippie’s.”

She snickered. How did nothing affect her? It infuriated him more.

“Seriously though, why do you look so terrible?”

“ Seriously, why d'ya care?”

“Cause, you’re Strawberry-head, not tuffet-head.”

He finally understood how being ‘dumbstruck’ felt. He couldn’t deal with it. He turned his back on her.

“Hey!” 

He heard her get up and stand behind him.

Poke.

“Seriously, what’s up?” She punctuated every word with a poke to his back.

Poke.

“Hey, you aliv-”

“Can ya just shut up?” he snapped. “I just had a horribly confusin’ and terrible day, and yar just making it worse.”

She simply stood.

“I had such a brilliant opportunity to score, but I couldn't 'cause everyone says that I should pass. It’s always ‘Kai pass, Kai stop hogging,’ and I freakin’ hate it. I wanna score, I don’ need those shitty idiots, but it's the only way to get to Nationals.” His tongue was moving without his consent.

“I help ‘em win, but all I get are these weird feelings that I don’ even understand. This hollowness, these pangs, ‘hell are they?”

The rain splattered against the windows, their symphony uninterrupted.

“Be selfish.”

“Huh?” he said, turning.

“Be selfish,” she repeated, unblinkingly. “Be selfish to get rid of those feelings. If you want to score, score. You want to play solo, play solo. Forget those idiots. You don’t have to care about them, only yourself. You want to play Nationals, you see them there in your head? With you on the pitch?”

“No.”

“Play for yourself, not them. Satisfy that pride and ego of yours. It’s your life, many people share the same dream but you gotta fight and reach there alone ‘cause there’s only one place.”

They stared at each other. The speakers said something, but he paid no mind to it.

The girl slung her bag over her shoulder, her notebook and umbrella in hand, and headed towards the doors.

She paused at the threshold. “I know I’m a stranger, an annoying one, so you don’t have to listen to me. Do what you want to do.”

She left, the doors sliding shut behind her, leaving the boy with the rain, the moon, the stars, and a firefly in a jar in a winding path through the mountains.

***

Kai feinted to the left before nutmegging, leaving the opponent in the dust, as he ran towards the goal. This was it. He would make his country proud; proud to have him on the National team.

The cheers increased tenfold as he shot, seconds before the countdown ended. He jumped in victory, flooded by his teammates until his eyes landed on a familiar sight.

***

“Hey stranger from the metro.”

The girl’s lips quirked at his greeting. Her hair was now shoulder-length and glasses perched on her nose. She wore the uniform of Tokyogeidai.

“Hey Strawberry-head.”

“Thanks.” The unspoken words hung in the air, but she understood. He knew she did.

“You're welcome, I suppose.”

He grinned. She returned it.

“You look a bit better.”

He raised an eyebrow.

“But still terrible.”

He snorted. “Yeah, yeah.”

She smiled. “Been a few years, hasn’t it?”

He nodded. “A lot has changed.”

“Yeah, you’ve lost the accent and grown a decent bit.”

“ ‘least I’m taller than you, bookworm.”

“Oi,” she whacked the back of his head. “So you listened, huh?”

“Yup. It worked didn’t it?”

“When am I ever wrong?” She flipped her hair back, striking a comical pose. 

They laughed.

“Guess I better say bye, I have classes tomorrow,” she said, lifting her hand in a small wave before turning to the mob.

“HEY! WHAT’ YOUR NAME?” He shouted.

“DOES IT MATTER?” she answered, vanishing amongst the crowd of shoppers, business people and teenagers. 

And he was left with the sun, the birds and the endless sea that gently danced along the shore of white sand.

“Goodbye, stranger from the metro.”