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They arrive at the crossroads where Jouji usually parts from the main road, but for some reason he stops.
He can see Sasanami and Kisoji slow to a halt in the corner of his eye, maybe to say farewells? Or can they see that same something looming over the street outwards from the heart of the city, the same thing Jouji is staring at with unfocused eyes?
He knows the way by routine. Just a few turns, then a straight street. One key for the fence and another for the door, and always check the alarms too, in case Miss Kitahara isn’t working right then. Homework, studying, dinner, at their assigned times. Get gently scolded by Miss Kitahara for ditching the inside shoes that echo in the big and empty rooms. Endure the video call that could as well be a recorded video sent to him.
The cold and dull spot in his chest is gone.
That same spot is filled with the hype of figuring out the club together, a newly lit passion for soccer, a hope he thought he’d never have again.
Now there are heated emotions and he realizes how much he hates that place. Not Miss Kitahara, no, he understands it’s her job to take care of him and the building. But the lonely rooms and empty evenings and unfair expectations.
Only now he again remembers how much it’s choking him .
“Sakurazaki?”
The call snaps him back to focus. Kisoji and Sasanami are looking at him.
Kisoji seems like he’s going to say something, but Sasanami beats him to it. “Do you guys want to come over for a bit?”
It comes out of the blue, and after a beat, Kisoji beams. “Sure thing, it can be like an afterparty for the club formation!” Jouji would’ve probably found Kisoji’s exaggerated motions amusing if he didn’t manage to catch Sasanami’s eyes on him. Was he watching his reaction?
Even in such a short time they had known each other, Sasanami’s hard outer shell had started to crack and show something else underneath. Jouji couldn’t see what it was yet, but he can see a peek in moments like this.
He needs to put that thought back for later though so he nods his agreement and as Sasanami leads the way, Jouji’s feet have no effort following.
—
Sasanami’s apartment is in a typical-looking building. The three of them fill up the whole entryway.
“I’m home”, Sasanami calls, “is it okay if some classmates visit?”
The familiar face appears from another room. They met only momentarily at the hospital, but the resemblance to Sasanami is still striking.
“Welcome back, and of course, come in, everyone!” She seems a little surprised at first, but her smile is genuine. Jouji gets the feeling Sasanami hasn't brought many friends home lately.
Kisoji thanks her and Jouji just nods, and when they step in, the woman takes another look at him. “Oh, you’re Unmei’s friend from the other day! Thank you for looking after my son.” She bows a little, and Jouji stiffens.
Friend? Is that by Sasanami’s words? It’s no surprise the shorter boy’s expression betrays nothing, and Jouji just mutters a meek “sure, it’s no problem” with a plan to glare the snickering Kisoji to death when they’re alone.
Sasanami himself seems to have decided to ignore the situation. “My room’s the last one to the left. Mom, can I take the pillows from the living room?” He disappears behind the corner to the right, his mom giving the visitors a quick “make yourselves at home” before going after him. Jouji stands still with Kisoji for a moment, listening to the conversation.
“Of course, are they enough?"
“Yeah, I just need two.”
“I just got back myself so I haven’t started dinner yet, I might have to change plans to make enough for everyone…”
“It’s alright, this was last-minute too…”
“Should I make tea?”
Kisoji suddenly perks up. “Well, we basically got permission to check out Sasanami’s room before he’s back, so let’s get on it!”
Jouji doesn’t have time to say anything before Kisoji is already halfway down the hallway - which isn’t long away though, since it takes about four strides for Jouji to cross it to the doorway Kisoji left open after him.
Sasanami’s room is western-style and quite small, but tidy and organized. Kisoji is standing in the open space in the middle, turning around on his heels and examining it. “Huh, surprisingly bare. I got the feeling he’d have at least some soccer memorabilia, given his passion for the club.”
Jouji just hums in response, not eager to bring out questions by disagreeing.
There’s barely anything decorative on the surfaces, mostly stationary and schoolwork, and the walls are bare sans one poster of a world map above the bed.
The room feels somehow very familiar to Jouji.
They look through the shelves containing an unsurprisingly large amount of books, mostly nonfiction and study books with a few comics in one end. There’s a long row of notebooks and loose papers on one shelf, the backs of the thicker books labeled with strings of words that make no sense to them, and Jouji can almost feel Kisoji’s need to peek through them.
He pretends to not have too much interest in seeing what Sasanami filled his days with after leaving the soccer field for good.
Sasanami comes in moments after, dumping the sitting pillows on the floor and grabbing one for himself from the end of his bed. He also goes by the shelf Kisoji and Jouji were looking at and picks up a couple of notebooks and pens from a drawer.
“So I got a few ideas when you were running the stairs”, he says as he sits down on a pillow on the floor. Kisoji settles down to the left of him, and Jouji sits to face them both in a triangle. “There's another place close to school that could be used for a different type of training…”
They go through Sasanami’s idea and throw their thoughts around it, and the evening passes faster than Jouji remembers it even could.
—
Just as they step onto the sidewalk, Kisoji’s phone chimes. He checks on it but before either of them can say anything, Jouji’s own phone gives a short buzz too.
“Sasanami made a group chat for the soccer club”, Kisoji almost squeals in excitement, but then his face turns perplexed. ”But why didn’t he add you too?” Jouji just frowns in response and checks his own screen. There are two text messages from an unknown number; one is a link with the url for the app store, and the second simply says, “DL LINE”.
“I gotta download the app first”, he mutters and taps the link without even questioning the sender.
Kisoji lets out a soft, dramatic gasp. “ You don’t have LINE ?”
In his mind, Jouji goes on a rant about controlling parents and deleted contacts and a quiet teenage rebellion, screw you I’m not going to message anyone then!! , but outwards he just raises one eyebrow. “He managed to dig up our numbers and that’s your concern?”
Kisoji shrugs like he was just asked what he wants for lunch. “Not the most suspicious thing I can imagine him doing. He’s a weird guy, but in a good way, don’t you think?”
Jouji can only stare back, not able to deny.
Kisoji lives in the opposite direction of where Jouji heads so after exchanging numbers themselves by Kisoji’s suggestion, they separate in their own ways. The shortest route misses the tram lines and the busy evening life of the main street, but Jouji isn’t unhappy about the quiet walk through smaller streets.
This silence is comfortable, and somehow comforting.
Not the hollow silence you’re afraid to break, to only hear your own echo.
All the lights on the small houses and apartment building windows feel lively the same way as the Sasanami household felt. There’s so many small things around, unimportant in that moment but telling their own story at the same time, showing that there’s people around.
Just like how their soccer talk had filled Sasanami’s small bedroom easily and the thinking breaks in between didn’t force Jouji’s mouth to stay shut. How his words were listened to, noted, appreciated even when countered or dissected to take the best ideas for later use. Kisoji’s laughter held not a drop of malice, and even Sasanami had let out a little laugh at Kisoji’s dumbest quip.
If Jouji had wanted to compare, he would have tasted the much lower quality of the tea in the three cups with similar but differing patterns, or how the ingredients of the small dinner weren’t hand-produced or the best of the crop. But he didn’t. Instead he gave a tiny smile back as Mrs. Sasanami placed the tea tray in front of them, asking shortly about their days and sneaking one last happy peek through the door as she left the boys to continue. And he tasted the home-made broth and found joy in the radishes cut in different shapes and learning the green onions were apparently grown by a close-by neighbour, exchanged for some help with an elderly relative.
The meal was fairly small and simple, but the four of them filled the dining table and when there were no words, he could hear the clatter of plates and utensils, someone shifting on their chair, or Kisoji happily tapping his foot against the floor.
He was just a guest, but at the same time, he felt like he was more .
Jouji already misses it, a little.
He can’t help the dark feeling starting to grow again as the houses around him start shifting to tall walls and emptier, more expensive properties, but he clings on to warmth he found that day.
As the familiar gate looms over him, Jouji takes a moment to compose himself and for no reason, unlocks his phone. He hasn’t noticed getting a message, just a moment ago based on the timestamp. It’s from the same unknown number as before, not yet saved in the contacts: Forgot to say it, but thanks for coming by today. See you tomorrow.
Jouji lets out a breath and smiles a little. His reply doesn’t take long to write. Sure. See you.
He hits send, and unlocks the gate.