Sleep does come, though not the sort Hotaka wants. It’s a sneaky sleep that plays cruel tricks, lulling him to slumber one moment, shaking him awake the next; clawing though his thoughts, preying on his mind.

He does eventually tumble into a deep sleep. But that proves even worse, for there he is ambushed by a nightmare. It’s one he’s had before, one from which he fears he might never wake.

‘Ready?’ Takeshi whispers.

Hotaka swallows hard. He’s staring into the sea thirty metres below, Takeshi at his side, their toes at the edge of the cliff.

‘We agreed,’ Takeshi insists. ‘Today is the day. The big leap.’

‘I know, but…’

‘Forget the buts. Buts get in the way of everything.’

‘It’s okay for you. You’re good at everything – and you’ve done this heaps.’

‘Exactly, heaps. And am I injured? Not a scratch. It’s all a leap of faith. Trust me.’

Hotaka wants to trust Takeshi. But it’s a long way down, and the more he thinks about it, the more paralysed he feels.

‘You’ve done it heaps too.’ Takeshi points to a ledge halfway down the cliff. ‘Only from a little lower, that’s all. No big diff. Same leap, better buzz. And I mean mega better!’

Hotaka tries to steady his nerves. The sea is calm and inviting. He peers into its emerald depths and imagines sinking into its softness. But he cannot budge the wad of fear swelling inside.

‘Come on. You can do it.’

Hotaka wants to believe his friend, but a voice says otherwise. He tries to take a deep breath, but his lungs won’t let him. He tries to clear his head, but his mind won’t be in it. He tries to make himself move, but his legs refuse. Buts! All those freakin’ buts!

‘Sorry, kid,’ Takeshi says eventually. ‘This dude can’t wait any longer.’ He steps backwards in slow, measured paces. ‘The Great Ones are calling,’ he yells, reeling off a list of sea gods and water spirits: ‘Ryo-Wo! Watatsumi! Suijin! Isora! Mizuchi! I come to join you!’

Crouching low and clenching his fists, he springs forward.

‘See you in heaven,’ he shouts as he sprints past Hotaka, a huge grin across his face. ‘Or hell!’ he adds, thrusting himself from the cliff in a beautifully executed arc, plunging seaward like a spear.

Hotaka gasps, enthralled. Golden body glowing in the sunlight, slicing the air, piercing the sea with barely a splash, slipping seal-like into its deepest green. At one with the sea.

A moment later Takeshi surfaces, big wet face popping out of the water and beaming up.

‘Come on, Hotaka,’ he yells. ‘Jump!’

Hotaka’s legs are jelly, his stomach churns, and a wave of dizziness sweeps over him.

‘Don’t be a goose. Jump!’

But he cannot. He simply cannot. He closes his eyes, and that’s when he hears Takeshi scream.

‘Hotaka!’

When he opens his eyes again, the water below is no longer crystal clear but bruised black and blue, swirling with menace.

‘Help me, Hotaka!’

Takeshi’s face is ghostly pale, eyes iced with fear, lips of coldest blue. He reaches from the churning waters, his hand shaking.

Hotaka drops to the ground and hangs over the cliff as far as he can, reaching out to his friend.

‘Take my hand,’ he yells.

Despite the distance, their hands draw closer and closer, eventually touching. Hotaka feels Takeshi’s hand in his, and grasps it tight. But there’s no strength to his friend, no grip. Cold and wet, his fingers slowly slip away. Hotaka stares in horror as Takeshi’s face is swallowed by the swirling menace, followed by his arm. His hand lingers for a moment on the surface before being sucked under.

‘No!’ Hotaka screams, stretching out. But there is nothing he can do.

And then he too is slipping, sliding into the blackness.

‘Hotaka!’

He wakes with a start, sweating, his head full of shouting. He sits up, sucking in a long deep breath, exhaling slowly. Calm. Be calm. A soft hand rests on his forehead for a moment.

‘I’m okay, Okāsan,’ he whispers into the grey light of dawn.

‘You called out. A few times.’

‘It was nothing.’

‘You sounded—’

‘It was nothing. Really.’

‘It was him, wasn’t it?’

Hotaka doesn’t reply.

‘That was so long ago, my son. You must let go.’

She’s right, of course, like the Shaman Lady. ‘I know, Okāsan, I know,’ he replies. ‘I will try.’ He eases back onto his pillow, letting her stroke his brow.

‘I saw the note on your door,’ she says after a while. ‘So it’s a big match today?’

‘Yeah. We need to win to stay in the comp. It won’t be easy. The Samurai are top of the ladder.’

His mother’s face darkens. ‘Aren’t they the ones that—’

‘Yes, but I can handle them.’

‘You didn’t last time. They put you in hospital.’

‘I was a year younger and a lot greener.’

‘They’ll do it again, Hotaka. I know they will.’

‘They’ll try. But I’ll be ready. Football’s a tough game. That’s how it is, Okāsan.’

‘Stop making excuses for them. It’s got nothing to do with that. You know why they do it. They don’t like you.’

‘Come on. Who couldn’t like me? I’m adorable.’

‘You know what I mean. We haven’t suffered enough.’

Of course Hotaka knows. In the first year after the tsunami people pulled together and helped each other. But since then progress has been slow and many have been left behind. Over the last year or so a growing envy has crept into communities all along the Tōhoku coast – envy of those who’ve got ahead, and of those who didn’t lose their houses at all because they’re rich and live higher up, above the tsunami line.

‘Well, it’s true. We haven’t suffered like them. They lost everything.’

‘You don’t have to explain, Hotaka. Why do you think I do what I do? But envy is a cancer that festers into hate, and hate is poisonous. The only way we’ll climb out of the misery and despair this tsunami has created is by doing it together. No community can survive in an atmosphere of envy and hate.’

‘You’re right, Okāsan. But soccer is just a game.’

‘No. For some it’s a chance to get even.’

‘You’re sounding like an awful snob.’

‘I don’t care, Hotaka. You’re all I’ve got. Just be careful. Okay?’

He hears the worry in his mother’s plea, and regrets calling her a snob. He knows she’s anything but. No one works as hard to help the helpless as she does.

‘Don’t worry, Okāsan. I’ll be careful.’

After his mother has gone, Hotaka climbs out of bed and goes to his window, pulling open the curtains. The morning sun is hiding behind a cloud.

‘Watch over me, Takeshi,’ he whispers. ‘Make sure they don’t smash me up too bad, huh? And maybe help with a goal or two?’

The sun slides from behind the cloud and warms his face.