apotelesma - o. tooru

sept.

It's midnight.

Most people have gone to bed by now, but Mitsuha can hear the sound of a match on Hajime's computer in her room. Yuki went home a while ago, after her mother had driven around to pick her up. Mitsuha's own mother was asleep in the guest room, since she was leaving early in the morning.

Mitsuha's seated near the bedroom window, her acceptance letter before her. Her legs are pulled close to her chest, arms wrapped around them as she huddles near the heater. There's still currents of excitement coursing through her body at the whole business. This is probably one of the few best things she's had these past few weeks.

There'd been a lot of crying after she announced it. Mitsuha has cried a lot this week, but today definitely took the cake. She was still half-sobbing when Yuki's mother had come up to their front door, and only managed to get a rein on herself when her mother chided her for sniffling like a five year old.

It's then that her mind reverts back to Oikawa's letter.

Is today a special day? Mitsuha thinks to herself, as she slowly lets go of her legs and gets to her feet, careful to not hit her head on the window ledge when she stands up. She heads to her dresser, where the letter is placed, near a framed photo of her and the volleyball third years, when they started their third and final year.

She sits down on the stool there, taking the letter in her hands. Her fingers go over the indented stars as she traces out their outline, her heart beating rapidly. With a heavy intake of air, she slides a fingernail underneath the flap, cutting across the glue.

Mitsuha pulls out the letter in trepidation, turning on the dresser's light as she does so. It probably has something heart-breaking on it, she muses. Otherwise he wouldn't have stopped her from opening it that day.

Happy White Day, Mittsun!  is emblazoned across the top of the letter in teal ink. There are cartoon shooting stars drawn around, and she can't help but wonder if Oikawa had asked his nephew Takeru for help with it.

Ah, Iwa-chan told me to put off writing this letter until later. But I guess that with what limited time we have anyway, I decided to do it. I thought it would be unfair to you and to our friendship if I left this until the last minute.

Your words that night really hit home for me, Mittsun. I considered it, playing in a foreign league. I guess losing in the Spring Inter-High made me feel like I wasn't cut out for anything professional in volleyball. But I really wanted to keep playing, despite how I felt inside.

Do you remember how Iwa-chan and I used to go watch the Tachibana Red Falcons when we were younger? They were my favorite team growing up-they still are, who am I kidding-but I really felt connected to one of the players there. The setter, Jose Blanco.

Ah, Mittsun, you should have been there for that match. It was something I'll never forget. But I'll leave my fanboying for later and get straight to the point. I told Coach Irihata about my plans to play in a foreign league, and he told me he had a friend who knew Jose. In the time we didn't talk as much as we used to, I was meeting with Jose Blanco and telling him about my aspirations. He suggested playing in the Argentinian league, something I hadn't considered before. He also said he'll help with arrangements and finding me a sponsor and stuff like that. So I told my mom and she's on board with it. I'm going to Argentina in the fall, a couple of months after we graduate. Jose said he'd help me improve my technique over the summer and give me general education classes before I leave, so I won't be left behind.

"You're cut out for the world stage," is what she had told him that night. It seems so long ago, now when she thinks about it.