Finnian caught his breath.
The blur of the world moved back into focus, tilting back into reality as the speed and adrenaline faded. On instinct he looked at his time, and he hadn't been slow. He had been fast, almost as fast as his speed record, and he had still lost.
How?
Finnian didn't look at his teammates. He definitely didn't look at all the others who had arrived for the tryouts. He could feel their eyes on them, so he stood tall and proud, stubbornly pushing up his chin even though he wanted nothing more than to scream in shock and frustration.
By tomorrow, the whole school would be talking about this. Finnian Day, the ace of the team, the rising star, the genius, had lost. He had lost to some exchange student who was only here for tryouts.
Clenching his jaw, he glared at Hikaru, both hoping and dreading to catch his dark eyes. Last time around it had been easy to cry cheating and fluke. But after losing to him a second time, what could he say? What taunts did he have?
"Well," Ms. Greene said after a long, awestruck silence, "I guess that's a guaranteed spot on the team, then."
Hikaru's team exchanged fist bumps and high fives. Helio and Lucian crowded around him to hug him, but he looked so uncomfortable that Bianca stepped in and stopped them. Then Finnian's teammates gathered around him too, all of them trying to talk to him at the same time.
Some friends you are, Finnian wanted to say. Were you always planning to ditch me the second someone better came along?
But he couldn't say that, he couldn't accuse them of that, because then people would call him a sore loser and mock him for being upset. He couldn't humiliate himself like that. Not in front of all these spectators, not when he still had a reputation.
His teammates kept talking. Hikaru looked increasingly strained, then increasingly miserable. He looked ready to bolt and run at any second, even though anyone else would be overjoyed by all this attention.
Fine, Finnian thought. If this guy couldn't even appreciate what he had, then he might as well ruin it for him.
"What's the long face for, Hiyama?" he asked, pushing aside his teammates, not even deigning to call Hikaru by his given name. "Not getting enough attention yet? Do you want us to grovel at your feet and sing your praises in the streets?"
The others fell silent, and just for the briefest moment, Hikaru's tense shoulders relaxed. Then he turned and met his gaze, his smooth face a perfect emotionless mask.
"I'm sorry," he said in a coolly polite tone. "Did you say something?"
Don't let it get to you, Finnian told himself over and over, biting down on his anger and swallowing it. Don't let him win here. Don't let it get to you.
"Should I talk slower next time?" he retorted, his voice a venomous caricature of an overly friendly host. "Or does the grand champion ignore the people who lost to him unless they're his adoring fans?"
Bianca gave him a dark look, but he ignored it. Sol looked like they didn't know if they should be worried or amused; Helio was watching the scene with crossed arms, ready to step in at any moment. Finnian ignored them all. His gaze was still focused on Hikaru and Hikaru alone.
But the exchange student remained cold, insultingly, infuriatingly unfazed. "Are you jealous?" he asked.
Finnian wanted to kill him, wanted to strangle him until that blank, uncaring mask cracked under the sheer terror of his fury. He wanted to see him angry, wanted to see him snap, threaten him, hell, even a snide remark would have been enough. Anything but this—this seething feeling of one-sided anger the other refused to so much as acknowledge.
But he gritted his teeth. He clamped down on his fury and swallowed it for the sake of his pride and his dignity, contorting his face into a painful sneer. "Oh, please," he said. "Look at me, and then look at you. What do you want me to be jealous of, huh? Your bland, basic equipment? Or maybe your bland, basic, boring personality?"
"Finnian!" Bianca hissed, scandalized, but neither Finnian nor Hikaru paid her any heed. Helio and Coach Greene took a step closer, preparing for the fight to escalate.
"Jealous?" Finnian went on, digging deeper, hitting lower just because he could, because he didn't know what else to do or say. "Don't make me laugh. Why should I be jealous of the guy no one would care about if he wasn't this fast?"
Just for a moment, a split second, something flickered across Hikaru's face—a hint of an emotion, too quick for Finnian to catch and comprehend. Then his face was blanker than ever, his dark, quiet eyes turning cold as stone.
"Shut up," he said flatly.
"Come on, Hiyama. Is that all the comebacks you have? Shut up?"
"Shut up," Hikaru said again, his tone unchanged. "You're loud."
With that he turned and walked away, rejoining the other tryout candidates. The team's eyes only followed him for a moment before turning, furious, on Finnian instead.
"That," Helio said quietly, "was very bad sportsmanship, Finnian."
Finnian scoffed. "What do you want? First he shows up late to the tryouts, and then he ignores it when people try to compliment his flying. Is that sportsmanship?"
"He was late because he got held up," Bianca chided him, "and he ignored our compliments because he was uncomfortable! Not everyone soaks up praise like you do!"
"He's clearly not taking this seriously! He thinks he's better than us!"
"Finnian," Bianca said gently, her eyes disappointed, making him wince. Disappointing Bianca always seemed to feel like disappointing your mother. "You are jealous."
"But he's—"
"Why are you so territorial? He's faster than you, big deal." She sighed. "Why don't you give him a chance before jumping to conclusions?"
He didn't want to. He didn't want to give Hikaru a chance, he didn't want to like him, didn't want to face the possibility that he was a nice person who was taking the sport seriously and not looking down on the team. Because if he was…he would be too good. And Finnian would be left behind with no advantages and nothing he could use against him.
Patience, Finnian.
That was what his father always told him when he got angry. Be patient. Bide your time. It doesn't do to blow up when you don't get what you want at once, all it does is ruin your chances of getting there later on.
He gritted his teeth.
"If you insist, vice-captain," he said with an exaggerated roll of his eyes. "Your wish is my command."
She exchanged a glance with Helio, clearly still unsure what to think of his tone.
"But," Finnian added, "I'll only play nice if he does."
Before anyone could say anything, he turned and strode off.
~ ~ ~
Hikaru left the tryouts outwardly calm and internally shaking.
Why should I be jealous of the guy no one would care about if he wasn't this fast? He knew, of course, but he hated to hear it. He didn't want to hear it, not from someone like the ace of this team, Finnian Day, who could have anything he wished for with a snap of his fingers. Finnian, who could be an arrogant, insufferable person and still have lots of friends because he wasn't like Hikaru, he was normal, and he could easily fit in with the other normal people.
Why don't you try to play with the other kids? You're always alone.
Hikaru's weird. We don't wanna play with him.
Why are you always so quiet? You should socialize, you know.
What do I do with this child?
It wasn't that he didn't want to fit in or have friends. It was just—people were so loud, and confusing, and they rarely seemed to say what they meant. And Hikaru was too straightforward, too literal, too bad at figuring out all the hints and clues and subtleties that seemed to come easily to everyone else.
He was better at it all now, through years and years of painstaking study. He had learned to maintain eye contact. He had learned to understand when people said one thing or meant another—mostly. He had learned to bite his tongue instead of rambling on and on about the things that fascinated him, not realizing that he was boring everyone else with them. But it was still the difference between a native speaker and someone who had only ever learned the language from books and classes.
Finnian was right, Hikaru thought, as much as that thought angered him. If not for his exceptional flying skills, even his parents would think he was no good.
A chirping meow snapped him out of his thoughts, and Hikaru paused. A tabby cat was standing only a few meters away, its bushy tail held aloft in greeting, gold eyes looking straight up at him.
Hikaru should be surprised, but he really wasn't. The school grounds were heavily warded, but anyone had yet to invent a warding spell capable of keeping out cats. They were creatures of the barrier, and the very magic that held back others was their natural habitat.
"Hello," Hikaru said softly, crouching down and instinctively slipping into his mother tongue. "What's your name?"
The cat padded soundlessly closer, letting out another meow. He had only half expected to understand it, but in the end he wasn't too surprised when he did.
"Finally, a human I can communicate with," the cat said with a dry undertone to its voice. "You have no idea how tiring it is, hearing nothing but kissy noises and 'pspsps' all day long."
Hikaru couldn't help it; he cracked a small smile. "People are tiring, aren't they?"
"A little, yes, but quite endearing in their stupidity. And at least they feed me." The cat looked at him expectantly. "You don't have any food for me, do you?"
At home Hikaru had always carried cat treats around in his pockets for when he spoke to the neighborhood cats. Here, however, he patted his pockets in vain. "Sorry," he said. "I didn't expect to meet a cat here."
"That's on you, human. You should always expect to meet a cat anywhere." Sitting down, the cat scratched its ear, then began to clean its fur. "But since I've missed speaking to humans, I'll let it slide this once."
"Sorry," Hikaru said again. "Thank you."
The cat's whiskers twitched in what might have been amusement. "So where do you come from, little speaker?" it asked. "They don't seem to have any humans with your skill around here."
There hadn't really been anyone back in Tokyo either—at least, anyone Hikaru knew—but he didn't say that. "I'm from Japan," he said.
"Hm. Not a bad country. Very fond of cats." The cat paused its grooming routine. "By the way, can you speak to other animals too?"
Hikaru gave a nod. "I can speak to foxes, dogs, birds…"
"Birds? Excellent." The cat got back up. "Tell the sparrows in the yard they don't have to be scared of me, I'm not going to eat them. Not enough meat on their bones."
Experience told Hikaru that cats were excellent and shameless liars, so he probably shouldn't believe that and neither should the birds. But to avoid drawing the cat's anger, he inclined his head in agreement anyway. "Okay," he said. "I will do that."
The cat suffered him to pet it for a moment in return, then trotted off in search of a sunny spot to nap in. Hikaru felt a little lighter already. Humans didn't tend to like him much, true, but on the bright side, at least he was better with animals than anyone else.
If everyone who knew about his ability hadn't chalked it up to being one of his many oddities, Hikaru might have known why it was so rare, or at least why no one in his circles ever seemed to have it. He might even have known what it was called—but as things were, he didn't know, and unless it became a problem, he didn't particularly care.
After all, why should such a simple ability ever become a problem?
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