G r a s s S t a i n s

P r o l o g u e

*

Nils was down.

And he wasn’t getting up.

Hawk had left his position and was already sprinting towards him before the ref called for a timeout. He was already holding his fellow country-man’s hand, his voice dripping with concern when he addressed Nils by his first name, as the others and I jogged over his path, crossing the field to form a loose ring around our teammate. Some members of the opposing team were lured over as well, but more by curiosity then concern. The rest of us just stood there in a shocked stupor, the ball forgotten in the field and the spectators hushed and urgent for news on the fallen player until the referee and our team’s coaches and trainers arrived.

They quickly called for the medics.

No one had really seen what happened. The game’s fast though Hawk got a glimpse: his eyes, like always, never leaving the play. Though on this occasion they had, remaining fixed on Nils as he lost possession of the ball. On Nils when the opposing player, some guy named O’Hara, kicked out in hopes of sidetracking the ball away from his guiding feet, but impacted the back of Nils’ leg instead. The end result: the other team gaining possession and Nils was reduced to a crumpled heap on the ground, his leg bent in an abnormal angle below his knee, and a glimpse of white bone protruding from it.

Hawk didn’t seem to mind that he was being soaked by his best friend’s blood.

The amazing this was Nils remained silent. He wasn't unconscious but was clenching his teeth and dealing with it all. Biting the bullet. His hand grasping Hawk's so tightly in return that his knuckles were turning white, and neither of the two Swedes broke eye-contact, though Nils' were wide with fear if anything. Fear as he watched his whole soccer career flash before him.

Finally our two team trainers pried Hawk off him. He fought back, spitting out a few things in Swedish until he submitted to the fact there was nothing he could do. That Nils was in the hands of the medics as they checked him over, braced his leg, and brought over a stretcher. The rest of us were silent, afraid mostly as out best right wing player disappeared down the field and exited through a corridor. Akiyama appeared abnormally pale next to me. For him he had lost his linemate, but Hawk was still the only one with tears in his eyes, which soon turned and glared past all of us and to the other side of the field.

I should have known right then who he was targeting, though even the rest of my teammates took a moment to register what was going on when Hawk took off, sprinting across the field, blind to all else but the player with O’Hara on the back of his jersey. The man who had hurt Nils. I should have grabbed hold of him, patter his shoulder, hugged him, something. Anything. But Hawk had been beyond any comfort we might have given to him. He had just lost something that was far too important to him.

There was a quick uproar from the spectators’ anticipation of the fight and O’Hara was only able to look up as a well aimed fist connected with his face. His nose was instantly broken, blood spattering against the two of them, and Hawk got a few more hits in until both teams pounced their respected players, separating them. There was already a dark welt forming under Hawk’s eye from where he took a hit from O’Hara, who was still cursing and leaning against his teammates for support. Hawk was still in a rage though and struggled against Brown and Kopeck’s strong grasps.

“YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE!” he screamed, hot tears flowing down his face, unnoticed. “THIS IS FUCKING SOCCER! NOT MOTHER-FUCKING MURDER!”

He wasn’t one to talk. O’Hara’s face looked like raw meat.

Hawk continued shouting and cursing as we dragged him into the locker room, the ref having called for a very long break and gave both teams penalties. Hawk soon fell into Swedish again and was probably saying far much worse things then he had in English. Dumped onto the locker room bench and scolded by the head coach, we all left him alone, letting everyone have their space. In a moment or two, he broke down and wept, not realizing he had begun to cry much earlier then that.

Now let’s rewind this and start from the beginning.

*

To Be Continued…

*

A/N: And it begins… Chapter update progress and information can be found on my livejournal: h t t p : / / w w w . l i v e j o u r n a l . c o m / ~ r y u u m i k a r a s u, and always feel free to e-mail me about anything: R y u u m i K a r a s u I S p e a k F o r T h e T r e e s . c o m! … And reviews are 100% welcome and adored.

Until the next chapter! ~Ryuumi Karasu