Side Story 4: NFL and Cricket

(Six years ago)

Akane was not the type to take a day off. Her version of rest usually involved reading court decisions like they were bedtime stories or reorganizing spreadsheets for fun. But there were exceptions. And one of them was football. Real football. The kind with helmets and tackles and a deeply unhealthy emotional attachment to the 49ers.

So there she was, blazer swapped for a Niners windbreaker, sipping espresso from a thermos and sitting in the lower bowl of Levi’s Stadium, her eyes already tracking player formations during warmups. It was her first live game in years. She hadn’t even told Aoi. She wanted this for herself.

The seat beside her was empty.

That didn’t last long.

The commotion started two rows down near the aisle. A woman in white hoodie, pinkish hair tied in a messy knot, thick British accent talking at about seventy miles per hour was arguing with a security guard. No, not arguing. Spiraling. There was gesturing. There was swearing. There was something about "this isn't even my seat, bruv, I just followed the lady with the nachos!"

Akane would’ve ignored it. Would’ve. But the woman wasn’t drunk. Just very, very flustered. She looked like someone who hadn’t slept properly in a week, the kind of person whose energy came from anxiety and vending machine coffee. The security guard, unfortunately, was starting to call for backup.

Akane stood.

"Excuse me," she said, stepping down calmly, flashing her Stanford Law alumni card like it was a badge. "Is there a reason you're detaining her without verifying her intent or confirming her identity?"

The guard blinked. "Ma'am, she was in a restricted seating area."

"So was half the stadium five minutes ago when people were trading tickets in the corridor. I assume you're not arresting all of them?"

Clem—though Akane didn’t know her name yet—stared at her like she’d grown a second head.

"I'm not with her," Clem added unhelpfully, eyes wide. "But like, I could be. Dunno. Depends if she's single."

Akane sighed.

Fifteen minutes later, the security guard relented. Turned out Clem had accidentally been given the wrong digital pass after helping someone carry boxes into the venue. She worked part-time delivering promotional materials. Her real seat was right next to Akane's. Of course it was.

"I'm Clem," she said, plopping down into the plastic chair like it's her only comfort. "Clementine if you're my mum. And you are… scary? But like, hot-scary."

"Akane," she said shortly. Then, after a pause, "Just a fan of football. Not your mum."

Clem grinned. "Shame. My mum’s not nearly as fit."

Akane took a long sip from her thermos and focused on the field. The teams had taken formation. She wanted to tune Clem out. She really did.

"Wait, which one are we rooting for?"

Akane arched a brow. "You're at Levi's Stadium."

"So, not the ones in green?"

"Not the ones in green."

"Got it. Go red guys! Smash their ankles or something!"

Akane almost choked on her espresso.

Clem had never been to a football game. She didn’t even know what a first down was. But she had enthusiasm, and a complete disregard for volume control.

"Oi, that dude just tackled him! That’s gotta be illegal!"

"It's literally the point."

"But he grabbed him by the torso!"

"That’s… still the point."

Clem narrowed her eyes at the field. "Yanks are wild."

Akane tried very hard not to laugh. Her lips twitched. Just a little.

"You don’t like sports, do you?"

"I like cricket."

"So why are you here?"

Clem shrugged. "One of my jobs needed someone to help with game-day handouts. They gave me a free seat after I accidentally knocked over a pallet of foam fingers. Which I then had to restack. In the rain. So, figured I earned it."

Akane turned to look at her properly for the first time. "No, I mean—why are you in the States at all? Immigration, student visa, what’s the story?"

Clem blinked. “Straight to the hard questions.”

“You almost got arrested, I helped you. I think I’m allowed to ask one.”

Clem smirked, but her voice softened. “Work visa. Came over two years ago for a short-term admin contract. Stayed because—well, turns out rent, overtime, and quiet grocery store aisles were enough to keep me around. Not exactly glamorous.”

"And your family?"

"Still back in East London. Mum keeps asking when I’m coming home, but I think she just wants help cleaning the loft."

Akane nodded slowly. "So you stayed. Alone."

“Bit grim when you say it like that,” Clem said, nudging her with an elbow. “But yeah. It’s alright, though. Found a routine. Found… foam fingers."

Akane hummed. “Most people come here chasing something.”

“Yeah? And you? What are you chasing?”

Akane stared at the field. “Moments like this.”

Clem tilted her head. “Touchdowns and thermoses?”

“Peace and noise. At the same time.”

Clem blinked again. “Bloody hell.”

Akane sipped her espresso.

After the game, they walked out together. The crowd buzzed around them, jerseys and face paint and cheap beer everywhere.

"I owe you a drink or something," Clem said. "For, y'know, saving me from football jail."

"You owe me better metaphors."

"I can do that. Next time I'll come prepared."

"Next time?"

Clem grinned. It was crooked. Bold. "Unless you're scared."

Akane raised a brow. "Of what?"

"Me."

"You're five-foot-six."

"Oi! Rude."

Akane didn’t smile. But she didn’t not smile, either.

The next time they met, it was for coffee.

Then a movie. Then a rain-soaked walk after Akane forgot her umbrella. Then three weeks of texting at 1AM.

The bond deepened with time. Dinners, work breaks, early-morning calls. Clem once stayed up all night helping Akane prep for a huge merger case by reading background articles aloud with commentary like a sports announcer. Akane retaliated by showing up at Clem’s weekend shift with overpriced lattes and a bag of scones.

Once, during a quiet evening in Akane's apartment, the two of them sar on the floor, backs against the couch, half a pizza between them when Clem uttered:

“I’ve got to figure out my visa soon. Might head back to London for a bit. Just to sort things out, yeah? Mum’s already nagging.”

She said it with a shrug, like it was nothing.

Akane nodded and said nothing. Then she passed her the last slice.

The rest, as they say, was unnecessary roughness.

Akane never told anyone about Clem. Not Aoi. Not her friends or family. Not even in passing.

It wasn’t about secrecy.
It was about keeping something that is hers.

Just this once.

The Niners windbreaker still lives in Akane’s closet. Clem calls it “peak American cosplay” every time she visits.






Heya! So this one’s a little different.

This side story is a very late Pride Month special (fashionably late, okay??), but more than that, it’s about something I’ve been sitting on for a while~ the moment Akane met the love of her life.

Yeah. That Akane.

It’s quiet. It’s messy. It’s hers.
She never talks about it. But I think it deserves a page of its own.

Thanks for reading. 💛

~Edeshei 🧃🫶🏻