terminal curiosity

thunder in a bottle (part5)

The new year sneaks up on Kiyoomi.

One moment the V-league season has only just begun, the next it's the holiday break and he's eating New Year's Day lunch at a long, mahogany table. He sits across from six familiar faces, some even more impassive than his own. Forks and knives clink against plates as they eat a French dish that Kiyoomi doesn't particularly care for in relative silence.

"Kiyoomi-kun, I hear that you graduated from university this year," Yua, his older brother Kinsuke's wife, says as they make it to the second course. "What did you end up getting your degree in?"

"International Business," Kiyoomi answers.

The choice in degree was made on the basis that his father would approve, but also allowed Kiyoomi to take some language classes, which seemed like it could be helpful towards his actual imminent career goals. Honestly, Kiyoomi hadn't really wanted to go to university at all. He even had some scouts reach out in his final year of high school.

Unfortunately, his father had made it very clear, in one of his rare direct communications, that failing to acquire an approved university degree would result in being cut off.

It wasn't his first choice but it was fine, in all honesty. Kiyoomi attended a school with one of the top volleyball clubs in the country. He received multiple MVP awards. It wasn't terrible for his development and it wasn't like he hated school. It hadn't been the hill to die on, though it left some of his high school teammates confused at the time. He hadn't really wanted to explain why he was applying to colleges while the rest of the most elite players in the country were signing on to V-league teams. Only Komori knew the real reason, and that volleyball was still his priority.

"Do you have any job prospects yet?"

Kiyoomi snaps out of his reverie and looks up to see his father, Sakusa Kenchiro, staring down at a bowl of french onion soup. Even though he doesn't bother looking up, Kiyoomi knows they have the same eyes, though more and more grey in his hair each year is making them look more different with each passing year. Kiyoomi's hand tightens imperceptibly around his spoon.

"I already have a job, Otou-sama," Kiyoomi says with as little emotion as he can.

"I meant a position with potential for growth," Kenchiro quickly corrects.

It's not even aggressive, or pointed. Somehow that makes it worse. His father fully believes that stupid, young Kiyoomi simply doesn't understand what he meant.

"Division 1 teams are a full-time commitment," Kiyoomi explains. "In addition, my agent says I'm getting international attention and am likely to receive more lucrative contract offers from clubs overseas soon, which I can take or leverage here when my entry contract expires after next season."

Kiyoomi doesn't even mention that his agent has also brought up the fact that he's almost certainly getting an invite to the Team Japan camp taking place during the upcoming summer, with decent prospects of making the actual Olympic roster.

"It seems like a poor plan to choose a job in which you will have to retire in your thirties at the latest. Then what will you do? Who will hire a man with no experience then?" Kenchiro says.

He said that last year, too. Kiyoomi wonders if he remembers. He is turning sixty-eight this year. Maybe his memory is starting to go.

No, he's always been this way. The fact is that Kiyoomi was born late and unexpectedly; he was never part of his father's plan. As long as he doesn't cause active problems, Sakusa Kenchiro only cares what Kiyoomi does for the 72 hours he visits over New Years.

"I'll figure it out, Otou-sama. I work hard now at volleyball and I'll work hard at my next job when I retire," Kiyoomi lies.

He has no idea what he's going to do after volleyball, but he's not an idiot. He's been putting a decent amount of his allowance into private investments since he turned eighteen. He doesn't have much interest in matching the lifestyle of his parents, so it's not like he needs a massive salary for the rest of his life. If his career goes well and he plays long enough, he actually shouldn't have to work much at all after he retires. Maybe he'll work as a scout or coach, or look at other front-office positions. He has no interest in climbing the corporate ladder or purchasing tables that cost more than cars and will only be used twice a year.