Forward - Chapter 1

Aiden Robertson

Aiden grumbles and groans as he is forced into this realm through the incessant screaming of his mobile phone. The vibrations of it on the table assaulted his ears, and in defiance to the mobile tyrant he refused to open his eyes. Reaching out he searches for the damned contraption with all the grace of a blind drunk praying mantis. The thought of opening his eyes arrived in his mind. He is too stubborn to give in now and promptly shoved the thought back into the chest deep within his mind that was filled with the memories of all the times he wished he had asked out the girl he liked. Reaching, and reaching, getting closer, his instincts were hardly ever wrong. By this point he was more awake than he was asleep, though he does not care, it was the mere principle of the matter at this point. His current battle is with the accursed extension of himself that he relies on so much to stare at in the hopes of getting a message from she whom he likes to daydream about.

THUD.

His instincts are good, his awareness on the other hand is a completely different issue as he groans and moans. It was as if this action would drive away the fact that he had failed to both turn the alarm off and to stay in bed as he had planned on.

He hears a knock on his door. He looks up at the ceiling. He knew full well who it was without turning to see the person opening the door slightly and peering in, ‘If you don’t turn off that alarm I’m selling your phone.’

Aiden finally opened his eyes. ‘Sorry.’

The being that impersonated his mother was more corpse than human, eyes glazed, and barely held in place within her hollow sockets. Each word is slurred as her brain tries to comprehend why the body was outside of the comfort of the bed so early. Once the message was communicated to the best of her early morning, pre-coffee ability she closed the door and walked away. Though calling it walking is quite generous, as it was similar to dragging her feet. It was as if her goal was to sand the floor using the grip of her slippers.

He stood up with the effort it took Atlas to hold the world on his shoulders, and walked over to the table. He swiped the phone, and it stopped screaming. The soft ring in his ear was so pleasurable he was close to falling asleep where he stood. It was six in the morning, the warmth of his bed abandoned after it had been shell shocked by the battle that is sleep. He wondered how he managed to be under the blankets despite the layers having been reversed in order. A mystery, as it usually is the case when trying to make sense of the acts that come about in one's dream state. The alarm is turned off.

A yawn broke free, and it is a wonder that his jaws did not dislocate as the very room itself threatened to be sucked into his gaping maw. This is followed by the body forcing itself to stretch, muscles that he never knew he possessed coming to life as a sense of pleasure expands within him. A pleasant glow that is interrupted by the chill of the morning.

Now that he is up, he moved with the efficiency of a machine that has been well oiled and well programmed.

He drank a glass of water.

Brushed his teeth.

Got changed.

Put on his shoes.

Set his timer.

Wore his earphones.

And stepped out of the door.

Taking in a deep breath he started jogging, each step a dull ache as he got used to the motions. The more breaths he took in and the longer he maintained his pace the more his muscles sang. It was mechanical, the body wanted to go faster and faster, the only thing that was stopping him from going any faster was his mind making the logical argument that it is best to pace himself rather than lasting a minute or two at best. Advice he always wished he listened to in other aspects of his living experience.

Max Aarons

Perspiration gathered and dripped from the tip of Max’s nose to the floor. He is breathing heavy, his lungs screaming at him for exerting himself to such a degree. He ignored their protest, as usual. He refused to bend down and hold onto his knees when he was exhausted. He has been trained to not show any sign of weakness to his opponents. He focused his breathing, taking in and letting out deep breaths. His pump was beating with such force that it threatened to beat right out of his chest and smack him for the exertion. His vision was spotty and he had the vague feeling that he was going to pass out. He willed it away as is usually the case during his morning workouts. At least he thought he willed it away, when it was his body finally recovering.

There are two cones on the floor. One was next to his feet and the other was fourteen metres away. Letting out one final breath he looked at his phone, it was six thirty in the morning, and the timer had one minute and fifteen seconds on it.

His stomach grumbled, complaining that he is yet to be fed for the day. Unlike the rest of the organs, Max chose to listen to his stomach, and so he picked up the cones, his bag, and started walking back home.

An uneventful walk later he arrived at home minutes before it turned six forty-five. ‘Breakfast is ready,’ a male voice sounded off from the kitchen, as if it were a burglar alarm.

Max replied with a simple, ‘K,’ and walked up to his room.

A quick shower.

Change.

Session of packing his bag.

And stuffing his equipment into a second bag later.

He walks into the kitchen.

A human that Max often calls, ‘Dad,’ is sipping on a cup of coffee, while scrolling through his phone.

'Food is getting very cold.’ He did not look up to see Max. Once you’ve seen someone once, that is all you need really. Max replied in kind as he sat down to see his breakfast in a bowl.

‘This is curry.’

‘Leftovers.’

‘For breakfast?’

‘I remember that you don’t like me heating up your cereal.’

'This is very true.’

‘I heated up curry, it’s meant to be eaten hot.’

‘I am not arguing the idea of curry needing to be hot, I am arguing the merits of having a heavy meal such as curry for breakfast.’

‘I will know that you are well fed.’

For the first time they lock eyes and look at each other. This is all they did. To call this moment comfortable is about as genuine as calling being cut while dicing your vegetables to be a pleasant experience.

‘Fair enough,’ and Max proceeds to polish his bowl. It was spotless in minutes, and this is an ability his father has always wondered about. He proceeded to the sink and started washing up.

Kiera Howard & Kyou Hanata

Kiera lets out a sigh as she tilts her head back on the wooden chair she is occupying. Her raven hair clung to her for dear life before finally giving way. Her skin was pale, as if she had not seen the sun at any point in her life, like porcelain. Kiera was expressionless as she looked up at the ceiling, as if her soul was suspended above her, attempting to escape the clutches of the woman below it, and so she was willing it to return to her body using nothing but the strength of the message projected by her mind. ‘It is way too early.’

In this regard, even her soul agreed.

'You’re the coach, you have to set the example.’ A young man, who completely ignored the plight of Kiera, and the complaints of her soul, sat where the teacher should be, in his school uniform, behind the desk looking over paperwork. His brows furrowed as if he were born with it, while his lips were pressed together as if every cell in his brain was pouring onto the paper in front of him through his nose.

‘You’re the captain, you’re the one that needs to set the example.’

‘I am.’ He changes the topic, ‘How do you use this table?’

‘I don’t you do.’

‘You need to clean this up yourself, instead of waiting for me to do it.’

‘I do clean.’

‘Name the last time.’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘It never is.’

The desk is crammed with papers, books, and folders, copious folders, with a white board off to the left. Light is starting to stream in, making it difficult to see where the natural light ended and the artificial light began. The days began later and ended earlier these days.

‘We need a minimum of eight players.’

‘I know.’

Kyou stood up from the desk and looked at Kiera. She looked like a slob. Her tracksuit jacket was open and was on the verge of slipping off her body. On her right shoulder was a tattoo, barely exposed, a name, maybe names, though in that moment as Kyou looked into her eyes, the same hunger, and determination that is ever present in his eyes are now reflected in her own.

‘Are you really alright with the plan?’

Kyou maintains eye contact, ‘Second thoughts?’

‘No, I’ll happily bench you if it means the team will win,’ the slob made way to someone who resembled someone far more reliable, leaning forward, pulling the jacket up and resting her elbows on her knees, ‘This is your last year, all three of you.’

‘I know, for the sake of the next crop of players, this is what needs to be done.’

‘Don’t regret it.’

Kyou smiles, the sight unnatural on his stern face. What is quite impressive is the fact that despite the smile and the general feeling of contentment that is radiating out of him, he still scowled as if he was looking at his greatest enemy in a showdown. He turns to the door, ‘Never do,’ then walks out of the room.

Kiera watches him leave and checks on the time, school is about to start, and with the new year there are more names to remember, more paperwork to fill out, and more, and more, and more, and more. She takes in a deep breath and lets her features soften, a sense of resignation coming over her. Standing up seemed to be an effort in itself. After stretching her body, she walked over to the desk and looked at the paper Kyou was working on and the list of positions that they desperately needed to fill.

Two goalkeepers.

Two defenders minimum.

Three forwards.

And a midfielder.

She let out a sigh, places the paper upon the wreckage that is the surface of her table as she headed to the door, switched off the light, exited the room, locked the door, and headed towards assembly.

Year 1 Start.

There are three new classes of first years, Kiera stood alongside the rest of the teaching staff to the sides of the students that were all standing in attention. She could not help look over the new students to see which of them might be useful to her, a habit she has accumulated as a result of coaching for so long. Her ice blue eyes scanned through the entire hall, wondering how many of them would actually end up wanting to join the team, and more importantly if anyone would be able to handle the try outs that they have lined up.

Aiden stood near the middle of the line that was supposed to be his classroom. Class two of three enrolling this year. Not quite the most academic group, though not quite the least academic. He looked forward and let the words of the principal travel into his left ear, to be promptly let out of the right. It was always the same thing, uphold the rules, make the most of your time, study hard, and get a good job. Routine, and dull. His eyes slowly started to glaze over from his brain experiencing extreme boredom.

Max stood in the row of the first class. He looked out of one of the windows, the sun came and left with the clouds. He was bored, the words failed to reach him, and the only thing that was on his mind was that he would join the football team and prove his doubters wrong. He looked here, there, and any other place that he could. Turning to the teaching staff, he noticed a woman in a tracksuit staring at him, as if she had found her prey. He took in her face so that he knew exactly who to avoid in the future. Then promptly looked away hoping that she would relinquish him from her line of sight.

Kiera noticed this motion and misread it completely. Thinking him to be bashful at the attention of a woman. The teacher next to her leaned in and whispered, ‘Best stop staring at the student, someone might get the wrong idea.’ Realization hits her in the back of the head with a force that could be compared to a baseball bat being smacked against her. For job security, she looked elsewhere.

Kyou stood in class one of the third year students, his final year before university. The past three years had flown by, having achieved nothing under this once great name. A stain in the history of football within this school. Three years that had felt as if it were only a month, two at most. A sense of melancholy erupting before it was efficiently quenched as a fire burned behind his eyes. He would be a failure now, but he would be the one to bring glory back to the school football team.

The speech ended and one by one the classes all filtered out and headed to their respective classrooms, all to be greeted by their teachers, and inducted into the year to come. There was one thing in Aiden’s mind, and that was to finish up everything that was related to his education in this room for today and head out to the try out session as soon as possible. It has been a year since he was last able to play properly and he has been itching for this moment to come. To feel the texture of the floor, the sound of grass scraping against his boot, the smell of it, and the aura of battle that filled the pitch. He had missed it, and his hunger was ready to devour all.

The final bell rang. Aiden moved with an efficiency that can only be compared to robotic. He packed, cleaned, and put away everything with the help of his classmates and ran off down to the pitch. There were others already there. He changed, and returned. Stepping onto the pitch after so long it felt as if the size of it had actually shrunk. He knew it was not the case, it was a matter of his perspective expanding. Over twenty students were present for the try outs.

Kiera walked onto the pitch and blew her whistle. Everyone gathered around, and everyone was surprised to see a woman as their coach. Max himself was dreading the fact that this woman was their coach after having taken note to avoid her. The inevitability of their interaction made him slump slightly, then the sight of a football made him perk up once more. Next to her stood, Kyou, and they looked over all the students. They all looked right back at them. The air felt heavy at that moment. There was a sense of anticipation as the new students waited to hear what was going to be expected of them today, and the year to come. Kiera looked at each one with a hard expression, and smiled, ‘Alright then.’