Work Text:
You’re used to being first. You’re used to running ahead. You’re used to teammates tapping you on the back, thanking you, congratulating you. Praising you.
You’re a god in their eyes. Nothing can go wrong, you’re on top of the world and your future is the brightest. The brightest.
This isn’t even the most important day of your life. You’re not turning pro today, you’re just taking the next logical step. You’re confident. You can do it. It’s not even a question.
When you meet the first wall, you’re unprepared. You feel stupid for even thinking you belong in this team of monsters. The world out there is harsh, the reality crushing, the screams and shouts and coaching deafening.
You know about the odds of turning pro but you thought you’d be one of them. If someone could do it, it was you.
(Don’t they all say it?) Kaneda, you’re the best. (Why did they lie?) Kaneda, you’re the best.
You see him get up and run ahead of you. You see others join but you can’t bring yourself to run. Your feet are heavy. Your heart has dropped to your brand new boots, bought for the occasion, bought because you thought you’d be taken in.
You want to go home. (You can’t go home.)
So you scream, you scream, and you scream. Because you’re failing. (You can’t fail.)
The hardest sight isn’t their backs. It’s not their silhouettes fading as they get closer to the goal and you are stuck in place.
It’s that damned salty drop falling on trampled grass.