Hikaru sat with Finnian on the bus again, but neither of them spoke a word to the other.
It was a strange silence, not quite hostile anymore, just…awkward. Or so it felt to Finnian; for all he knew, Hikaru might simply be doing what he always did, staring out the window and minding his business. His presence didn't feel as irritating anymore. He was just there, for better or worse, ignoring Finnian for the entire ride, and Finnian was content not messing with that silence.
Maybe, some part of him whispered, if he hadn't been so hell-bent on antagonizing him, the silence between them would be companionable now. Maybe they could've been friends, comfortably sitting together on the ride to a competition.
Where had that thought come from?
Finnian didn't know, and he didn't want to know. Was it because he knew Hikaru better now, enough to feel bad about messing with him the way he had before? Still not enough to like him in any way, he told himself—but enough to know there had always been a possibility. Enough to know that maybe, somewhere deep down, there still was.
This time the trip through the Otherworld took longer. Finnian gazed outside until he got bored of the endless gray, star-sprinkled plains and jagged spikes that changed shape even as he looked at them. Once or twice he thought he saw something moving outside the bus window, running along perhaps, but the moment he tried to focus on it, it was always gone.
"I don't think I need to tell you not to stress," Coach Greene told the team when they arrived at the venue. "This isn't your first rodeo, so just fly the way you always do. No matter where we end up placed at the end of today, getting here has already been an achievement." She smiled. "Hold your heads high."
"Beautiful words," Finnian remarked, inhaling the cold, clear wind, the feeling of anticipation buzzing brightly in the air. "But I, for one, will still be aiming for the top."
"Me too."
He spun. The one who had spoken was none other than Hikaru.
"If we win, we can keep flying at nationals," he explained in a calm, steady voice. "So let's keep flying."
Finnian gaped at him, then caught himself and settled for raising his eyebrows. "Agreeing with me, Hiyama? What is this, opposite day?"
Hikaru ignored him. "Everyone," he said, "let's do our best."
"Well said, Hikaru!"
Pumping her fist, Bianca beamed at him in such obvious pride that Finnian couldn't bear to look at it. "We've got the best team we've ever had," she declared. "Team, we can do this! Let's fly to win!"
Cheers from the others. Helio motioned for the others to line up behind him, and in their usual display of brilliant white, the flying team from St. Lucia strode proudly into the stadium.
A pleasant chill ran down Finnian's spine. How he had missed this—the colors, the banners, the hundreds and hundreds of people crowding the ranks, friends and classmates and families and cheerleaders, the rush and the chatter of voices. The sun was dazzlingly bright in the sky, the air fresh and clear, and all around him the colors of a hundred different teams mingled into a single dizzying kaleidoscope.
"Hey, Finnian!"
People he hadn't seen in months called him over, and he ran up to them, talking about anything and everything all at once. Then someone else spotted him, and yet more people, and before he knew it he was swept up in a carousel of faces and voices and words, smiles and hugs and greetings from old friends and rivals. Everyone had a story to tell, about their teams and their coaches and new equipment and the competitions they'd been to recently, and within seconds he had almost forgotten that life had ever been any different.
But even in the middle of all the talk and laughter, he found his gaze drifting back to Hikaru. Hikaru, who didn't know anyone here—who was just standing there, not bothering to talk to anyone or make any friends, just playing something on his phone. Finnian looked at him and couldn't decide if he looked at ease or just lonely.
Why don't you bring him in?
He silenced the thought. Hikaru hated the sound of people's voices. All these strangers talking would only overwhelm him, and—wait a second, since when did he give a damn about that guy's comfort? What had happened to him being a rival, the enemy that had stolen his spotlight?
He knew that, and yet his eyes kept wandering, searching for his silent form in the ever-moving crowd. Like an anchor, he thought idly. The one calm element in a hectic image, grounding the picture through the mere act of being there.
But as his eyes roamed around, he realized something else.
Up on the stands, between all the colorful people and banners, there were a few figures who stood out from the crowd. Tall and silent, dressed in hooded white cloaks reminiscent of the Grim Reaper, with long, trailing sleeves they were hiding their hands behind.
He knew these cloaks.
"Hang on," he said, stepping away from the group and glaring. "Do you see that?"
His friends stared at him in confusion. "See what?"
"The White Cloak." He narrowed his eyes, glaring. "What are they doing here?"
"Who knows," Stella replied with a shrug. "Maybe one of them has a kid competing here."
"Maybe," he muttered. "But why come here in full cult gear? Are you telling me that's not a little suspicious?"
The others looked doubtful, but that didn't deter him. These people weren't just here to watch. They had come to send a message.
And after everything that had gone down in the past few days and weeks, Finnian simply didn't believe in coincidences anymore.
"It's because of the Dark Mage kids last time, isn't it?" he muttered. "Of course it is. This is a warning to people like them."
But for now the cloaked figures didn't do anything, they just stood there, so it wasn't like there was much he could do about their presence.
~ ~ ~
The race was going well.
They were flying in their usual formation. Helio had built them a formidable lead, and Sol's follow-up left nothing to be desired. And now Hikaru was up next. There was no doubt in anyone's mind that they were going to win this.
"Don't disappoint us, Hiyama," Finnian muttered when Hikaru pulled up to the starting line. "Your big words better not have been all lip service."
Hikaru didn't respond. He didn't even look at him. Finnian had no idea if he had heard him at all.
"…Hiyama?"
No answer. And at that second Sol came back, and Hikaru grabbed the baton and flew.
Finnian held his breath. Even through his jealousy, his hatred and anger, he had to admit that Hikaru was the best flyer he had ever seen. It was like he had been born for the air, like a fish had been created specifically to swim or a bird to fly; his movements were so easy, so perfectly natural that it was impossible to look away. It was almost impossible to follow him with a human eye, but Finnian tried anyway. He always did—first to find out the secret behind Hikaru's speed, and now because he simply couldn't help it.
Which was how he was the first to realize that something was wrong.
Hikaru had cleared almost half the obstacles when his broom suddenly bucked. That was the best way to describe it: like an impatient horse trying to shake off its rider, but Hikaru held firm. And Finnian had almost been ready to write it off as a trick of his eyes when it happened again.
A murmur went through the team, then the crowd. Others had picked up on it too; and Finnian watched, frozen in place, as Hikaru struggled to get his broom under control. In vain. It was bucking and twisting and leaping, and Hikaru Hiyama, who always had perfect control over his broom, could do little more than hang on and hope not to be thrown dozens of feet onto the ground.
Finnian gritted his teeth. "What the hell are you doing, Hiyama?" he yelled across the pitch. "I know you can do better than this, so pull yourself together and fly!"
For a brief moment Hikaru's gaze met his across the pitch. Then his eyes landed on something else Finnian couldn't see from this angle, and the broom was still for a few seconds before darting vertically into the air.
Just for a split second, Finnian dared to hope. But then the broom started zig-zagging, spiraling, bolting wildly from side to side, narrowly avoiding a collision with the obstacles. Each time the near-crash grew narrower and narrower. Hikaru's grip was visibly slipping. It was only a matter of time before he got thrown by his own trusted broom.
He's going to die.
The realization flashed through him, quick and white-hot like lightning. Someone had to do something, anything. It was only a matter of time before he crashed against one of the obstacle poles or plummeted horribly to his death.
He looked around. The adults were clearly trying to rein in the broom with enchantments and telekinesis, but whatever had possessed it was stronger. This would never save him in time. Someone had to go and get him off that thing, now.
If I go out there, we'll be disqualified.
Finnian knew that. But…
Damn the competition. Damn it all to hell.
Mounting his broom, he kicked off, darting onto the race track in spite of the shouts from behind. The wind slapped hard into his face. Ignoring the obstacles, ignoring everything, he sped higher and higher, his eyes hell-bent on Hikaru, searching for a pattern in the movements of his broom. Anything to intercept it and catch him before it was too late.
The broom bucked violently and leaped straight into the air. Hikaru was barely holding on by now. Finnian muttered a curse and followed it skyward. "Hiyama!" he yelled. "Try to get to me!"
The wind bit him in the face, ripping the words straight from his lips. He had no idea if Hikaru could hear him. Damn it, he had to get closer. Hold on, he begged him silently. Just hold on for a little longer.
The broom leaped sideways and spun. Finnian anticipated it, steering into its path; but at the last second it veered aside, leaving him reaching into thin air. It rose up higher, higher, higher still.
And then it plummeted like a rock from the sky.
With a cry Finnian shot his broom forward, up, into Hikaru's way. If this went wrong, Hikaru would crash into him, possibly killing them both. Right now, Finnian didn't give a damn.
"Take my hand!" he called. "Hikaru!"
On his broom, Hikaru turned towards him. Finnian flew closer, letting go of his broom to hold out both hands. Hikaru leaned forward as he fell, letting go of his own broom, and both of them crashed into each other as Finnian yanked him off that treacherous broomstick and onto his own.
Gasping and shaking, they clung to each other, the broom bobbing dangerously up and down under their shared weight while Hikaru's crashed against the ground with a loud but harmless clatter. Finnian tightened his arms around Hikaru's torso. He's here, he reminded himself. He's alive. You did it.
Then, slowly, he steered them both back on the ground. He didn't wait to reach the starting line; he simply set them down on the grass where they untangled themselves from each other and dismounted.
"Are you all right?" he asked.
For a long moment, Hikaru was silent. His face had fallen back into its usual blank mask, his eyes cold as they locked onto something Finnian couldn't see.
"I didn't need your help," he said coolly. "I almost had it."
The words felt like a slap in the face. "Almost had it? Don't make me laugh," Finnian answered, his voice still unsteady. "You almost died."
"That's not your problem." Turning away, Hikaru went to collect his wayward broom and started walking towards the finish line. "Don't touch me."
With that he went on, proud and unflinching, his head held high; but Finnian didn't miss the way he patted himself off where he had touched him, the same way someone might try to get rid of very persistent dirt.
Finnian didn't know why, but at that moment he wished Hikaru would simply have punched him in the face. Somehow that would've hurt less.
"Oh, fine!" he called after him. "Do what you want! Fly around on a broom someone's clearly tampered with and try not to fall to your death! See if I give a damn anymore!"
"Shut up!"
He flinched. Hikaru had spun in his tracks…and he had raised his voice. Hikaru Hiyama never raised his voice, ever.
"Stop complaining!" he snapped. "This"—he gestured to the accursed broom in his hand—"is your fault."
Before Finnian had the chance to ask what he was talking about, Hikaru had already turned and walked away again.
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