shoyosluver

[shoyosluver]

"you shouldnt wear that,"

you were taken aback by the unexpected comment from the man you hardly knew, your mouth agape as words failed to come forth. "i-im sorry..?" you asked, your voice tinged with hesitation and confusion. the man has a bored look on his face, but his words is totally striking your pride. "you're miya's girlfriend arent you? but people cant seem to differentiate between you and a slut because of that dress you're wearing," you were really surprised by his rudeness, and the word 'slut' hurts you like shit. no one has ever called you that, and why is this random stranger degrading you like you're some low women?

"what the hell did you just say to my girl?" atsumu's voice was cold and harsh, his angry tone evident. "who the fuck are you to tell my girl what to wear?" he asked, his fists clenched and jaw tightening. before you could speak, atsumu punched the guy. a commotion ensued, and you both left the party as the situation worsened. its safe to say atsumu made some new enemies that night, and now he's enduring a lecture from you while you apply ice to his bruised jaw.

you know atsumu is not a weak man; he will throw punches if needed for you. he doesn't mind being your knight in shining armor, because it's you.

"dont mind his words, you can wear whatever the fuck you want because i can and will fight if anyone opposes," a smile formed on your lips as you heard atsumu's words.

[shoyosluver]

-ˋˏ✄┈ 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 : 010

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ THIS SIDE OF YOU ❜┊

— akaashi x f!oc!reader

◦ ‘ just be by your side

and give you more than words ’

🔊 :: track nine, more than words

note: i realised that links for the song will take you to spotify and only play a small part of it, for the full version, you can search it up to listen on spotify or other music platforms to enhance the reading experience!

CW ; written in third person, includes text portions, fluff & comfort in this one, mentions of anxiety, switches to Akaashi's pov under the third cut

WC ; 7.4k

icymi!! find the reprise masterlist here

Having a crush was the biggest motivator in Aritsu’s life.

It was an awakening. A jolt of strength, a buzz of energy that brought a skip to her step and the constant hum of a jovial tune lingering on her lips. Today, she had woken up with a resolution that would have never crossed her mind if not for the compulsive urge in satiating her greedy heart.

For Shinsei and Shiori on the other hand, it was life’s greatest mystery. A science fiction movie coming to life, in which their lazy daughter who would set up fifteen alarms and snooze them all swapped bodies with her polar opposite.

"Morning," Aritsu greeted her mother, pushing past the curtains that hung in place of a door to the kitchen. She shuffled over to the assortment of doughnuts on the dining table, missing the surprised jerk of Shiori's body whipping around to face her.

"Morning, Aritsu." there was a startled pause to her mother's words. Setting down the pitcher of yuja tea in her hands, Shiori brought the tray of filled glasses to where Aritsu stood overlooking the selection of doughnuts.

Her nearing presence went unacknowledged. As Shiori distributed the glasses of yuja tea onto the rotating tray of the dining table, she curiously studied her daughter, silently deducing her bizarre appearance in the wee hours of the morning.

Arms lounged lazily over the back of a chair, Aritsu raised a finger and hovered it over each imaginary space over the doughnuts. "glazed, sugar, black forest..." came the low murmur. The prodding of her tongue at the corner of her lips was indicative of the debate of choice that went on in her head, but none of it clued Shiori into figuring out her daughter's intentions.

"You're up early." Shiori finally pointed out.

That prompted Aritsu to throw her mother a sidelong glance, before dipping her head with an enigmatic smile, resuming her pursue of her ideal doughnut. "I thought it was finally my time to embark on nurturing a healthy lifestyle." she vaguely stated.

Shiori cocked her head to one side. Although her answer was clear, she didn't believe her daughter's sudden change of heart. In her experience in raising this girl, she knew better than to assume that such a simple answer could be the case.

"What is your primary motivation behind this decision?" she tried again in an attempt to pry deeper.

"Don't you want me to start being healthier?" Aritsu refuted slyly, slipping under her examination. Her wandering finger stopped at the sugar raised doughnut, hand reaching out to pluck it from the plate and dishing it into a paper bag.

Without waiting for Shiori's reply, she downed her entire glass of yuja tea in one gulp and passed it into Shiori's hands.

"I'll get going now. Bye!" tossing a grin over her shoulder, Aritsu departed out of the kitchen in a hurry.

Shiori looked down at the empty cup in her hands, then at the curtains by the doorway flapping idly in Aritsu's wake. A ceding sigh drifted to her lips, turning to the sink.

Appearance was not the only thing Aritsu shared with her father - but the trait of their underlying expertise in evading tricky questions as well.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Aritsu arrived at the train station as planned. The huge clock suspended from the high panelled ceiling read seven in the morning, which meant she was in time to catch the early train free from the usual frustration of having to squeeze with a hustling crowd.

The train doors slid open soundlessly, the queue for the train she was part of shifting upwards. Cool air blasted from the ventilation fans attached to the top of the cabin, relieving the thin layer of sweat formed on the back of Aritsu's neck, a result of her haste to get here.

Anticipation caused her searching gaze to gloss through the various faces present. Not the lady leaning against a glass divider with her hair cropped at her shoulders, clad in casual streetwear. Not the businessman snoring in his seat, head drooped. Despite how he shook along with the rattling of the train, his tight hold on the briefcase perched in his lap was indomitable.

Indomitable, too, was Aritsu's attention when the sparkle of a familiar metal badge caught her eye. In a heartbeat, the rest of the faces on the train were scrubbed away. Shadows and morning light danced across the ravenette's face, arms wrapped around his black bag to press it to his chest. Where the metal badge was pinned to, gleaming in reflection of the passing light penetrating the windows of the train - but never demanding her to look as much as his face did.

Akaashi sat in a seat a few spaces away from where she stood surveying the cabin. He had his head angled slightly to the left, attentively listening to the boy seated next to him. Bokuto, Aritsu corrected, recognising him as the second year who had declared her identity to the entire convenience store.

This time, their friend group had grown with a few more additions. Three unfamiliar faces stood around those seated. Two of them had spiky hair, though one looked more menacing than the other in terms of not just height - but the appalling lack of eyebrows. Taller than the two of them however, was a guy with a crew cut.

Beside Bokuto was Konoha, the dirty blonde haired guy with narrowed eyes. Occasionally, he added to what Bokuto said, sometimes bickering in their contradictions. To his side, a tousled dark haired boy listened in to their conversation, chiming in to make his own comments.

Aritsu was struck with the baffled observation that most of them shared the sharply arched eyebrows Bokuto had. Like a family of owls. Did they bring out the entire volleyball team? Intimidated by the huge group, she withdrew behind a glass divider sheepishly, reorganising her plans to meet up with Akaashi in the train.

She had barely taken a step back when the second year found her staring from a distance, golden eyes widening.

"Tomo-chi!"

Her heart plummeted to the bottom of her stomach.

Heads spun her way immediately at the effect of Bokuto's booming exclamation. The entire group sized her up in curious examination, taking in Aritsu blinking dumbly back at them, legs frozen one before the another in her futile attempt to blend into the background.

Bokuto had shot up his hand in the air, flapping it enthusiastically in a friendly wave. Blissfully oblivious to the girl's inner panic in being called out, he worsened it by gesticulating at her to come over, with such an innocent cheerfulness she knew only a hideous, unloving monster dared to refuse.

Once Akaashi's gaze flickered to hers, she forced the tension in her bunched up limbs to dissipate. Schooling her face into a polite smile, she retracted her leg back to rest beside the other and headed towards the group slowly.

A pep talk commenced in her head with each step she took in their direction, interjecting her rambling panic with an illusion of calm. Glimpsing Bokuto's smile brightening at her arrival, the last of her doubts melted away to gratitude. At least there was a source of comfort, even if they didn't know each other for long - but Bokuto's carefree personality put her at ease.

She stopped in front of them with the idea of staying outside the circle. However, the guy with the crew cut had other plans, stepping aside for her to squeeze herself into the circle. The group rearranged their positions, expanding to accommodate her presence. Expectant gazes were still pinned on her, though not in a way meant to be pressuring, felt so.

With the limelight shining down on her, Aritsu decided upon taking the initiative to say something.

"Good morning..." her greetings came to a temporary halt, unsure of how to address them.

fellas? gentlemen? good looking men-

"Erm, what the sigma?" Aritsu mumbled instinctively in response to the confounding terms gathered in her head.

-oh hell, she had let that last critiquing thought slip.

Her facial muscles tightened, bordering between a smile and a grimace. An embarrassing silence that followed doused her in an overpowering wave of shame, urging forward an onset of intrusive thoughts amplifying her desire to throw herself out the train window and sacrifice herself on the tracks.

"What the sig...?"

"You're the girl from the convenience store!" Konoha jumped in quickly, cutting off Bokuto's inquisition and her piling peril. "Akaashi's classmate and desk partner, Aritsu Tomoha, correct?"

Aritsu's shoulders slumped in consolation to Konoha's rescue. Now she was indebted to his sweet soul. Shooting him a grateful smile, she responded with a firm nod.

For once, the attention spurred from the mention of her last name was her salvation. In the face of this dire situation, it was a game changer that erased the memory of the earlier incident hanging shamefully in the atmosphere.

The curly dark haired boy sitting next to Konoha regarded her in renewed interest. "You're the daughter of Shinsei Tomoha?" he asked, speaking out on behalf of the collective surprise worn on the faces of the rest new to this piece of news.

A spark of annoyance flared to life in Aritsu's heart, though quickly extinguished with an agreeing bob of her head. "Yeah. It's not obvious because I got a dye job sometime during junior high." she inputted.

Hearing his name flow naturally after hers in every single conversation like a granted fact perturbed her, though. As inseparable as Sherlock Holmes and John Watson, correlations interlinked with one another. Years of being asked the same question over and over again could make her recite them involuntarily, like second nature. At times when she was bored, she would direct the questions herself and switch up her responses for laughs.

None of them would ever be said in actual conversations, but the activity helped in poking fun at the mundane repetition.

"No wonder you looked so different!" Bokuto piped up, tilting his head to look her up and down as if he were seeing her for the first time. An approving smile wandered across his lips once he had completed his tiny analysis of her hair colour, flashing her a thumbs up. "It's a good choice. I love the blonde streaks in the brown, it reminds me of pork belly strips!"

"That's an interesting comparison..." Aritsu mused in bemusement, drawing connections between the two things she would have never considered to be paired together. On the other hand, the rest of the group exchanged rueful smiles, acquainted with the unique wirings of Bokuto's brain.

Konoha looked to Bokuto with a teasing lift of his eyebrows, nudging him in a playful fashion. "You can't just say that about someone's hair, Bokuto. It's like comparing your hair to a broomstick."

"A broomstick?" Bokuto echoed in horror. "I'll have you know that is an insult to the effort I put into my hair every morning..."

Both of them lapsed into the casual rhythm of their lighthearted debates entertained by their friends throughout the train ride to their stop. Aritsu engaged in occasional conversation with the rest of the group when prompted, walking out of the station with them into the school compound. Picking up on bits of information gained from their mannerisms, she felt more comfortable around the group in contrast to her initial unfamiliarity.

Still, she couldn't help but have her gaze land on Akaashi every now and then. He had been awfully quiet during the train ride, partaking little in the discussions held in the friend group, his only contributions coming to light when Bokuto prompted him to speak.

Which was not so much of a strange occurrence given Akaashi's nature in keeping to himself. Perhaps she was overanalysing his reserved silence, hypersensitive to every action he took.

Nudging her outdoor shoes off, Aritsu crouched down to swap her outdoor shoes with her indoor ones. A low creaking sounded above her head, a shadow falling over her hunched frame. Lifting her head, she peered at Akaashi behind the metal grilles of his opened shoe locker.

With a single tug and hook of his fingers to the lip of his shoe, Akaashi replaced his shoes with one swift move. Aritsu snapped straight beside Akaashi once her protective cover was stolen, briefly shut back into its place.

Zero signs received except for the sheet of stoic calm that never seemed to leave Akaashi's face.

Was it her imagination then to notice the excessive amount of times he fiddled with his fingers? Or when he stared blankly at them, lost in thought?

"I'm thirsty!" Bokuto's lament made Aritsu look to him instead. A pout formed on the second year's lips, throwing up his arms in agitation. "Let's get a drink from the vending machine!"

"Eh, I'll pass." the shortest out of them all with the reddish brown hair objected, throwing his bag over his shoulder. "I don't want to be late for class."

A few guys around him resounded their concerns. Following the reddish brown haired guy's lead, they left for class after saying their goodbyes. It was down to an intimidatingly tall guy with pushed back spiky hair, the guy with buck teeth and Konoha.

Bokuto deflated at the dwindling group of people, but perked up shortly after, seeing that he still had an audience. "You coming, Akaashi?" he asked, looking to the ravenette who adjusted the fitting of his shoe to his feet with a tap.

"I'll pass." Akaashi replied with a sudden glance at Aritsu that caused her to stiffen up, caught off guard. He turned back in time, the tension gathered in her shoulders sneaking past his notice. "I have a group project to present with Ritsu san later, so I want to make sure I'm prepared."

"Ah? Is that so?" the older male gasped, parting out of Akaashi's way to let him pass. "The two of you best get going then! All the best!" he encouraged, slapping Akaashi once on the back and offering Aritsu a reassuring grin. "Don't be nervous, Tomo chi." he says, reading the surprise that envelops her features at the recollection of their presentation.

Aritsu dismisses the concern with a shake of her head. "I'm not nervous, I've got this."

With a beam, Bokuto pats her shoulder and urges her forward. Hurrying after Akaashi who had started on his route upstairs, she takes two steps at a time and emerges on the second floor, falling in step beside him. He slows once she has caught up, allowing her to catch her breath.

A series of flashcards are held in his hand - the ones she notices he had been flipping through in the train earlier, which he pocketed during the walk to school. Akaashi reads them over and over again, committing them to memory through low murmurs.

His thorough preparedness makes her a little guilty. After a couple times of going through her script last night, Aritsu had confidently called it a day and collapsed onto her bed. Witnessing Akaashi's relentless memorisation put her meek efforts to shame.

Snuffing out the distracting guilt in her chest, Aritsu crossed her fingers and hoped upon her charisma to not fail her. "Are you ready, Akaashi?" she asked as he turned a flashcard over to reveal a paragraph of text written on its backside.

Akaashi's eyes appraised hers for a minute of silence. Then his gaze jumped back to his flashcards. Skimming the contents of the first opened card carelessly, he flipped a second one over, leaping over the last line of text. "Yes."

That pause lasted far too long to render his statement of steadfast confidence. Akaashi's finger shifted to the corner of his cards and flicked it up and down, the crinkling sounds of paper perpetuating the air. Again, he begun to recite the facts, though this time they flowed anxiously, with a desperate edge that begged the words to be carved into his brain.

Her observations in the train lined up to the present moment. The longer Aritsu assessed his actions, whatever conclusion she had come to terms with in her head grew clearer.

Akaashi was nervous. And no, it wasn't the usual kind of nervousness that everyone faced before giving a presentation. It was a nervousness that stretched beyond that, festering on the composure fighting hard to stay. The dilemma was evident in his jittery gaze, looking anywhere but her.

With each step they took closer to their classroom, closer to first period, closer to the prospect of being the first to present - it worsened subtly. Starting with the trembling of his fingers, the lowering of his head to steady his shallow breaths, at odds with the panic inching into his furrowed eyebrows.

They could not enter a classroom like this, much less manage a presentation. The expectant stares, incessant chatter, pressure inflicted by their classmates would only agitate the grappling anxiety.

Holy shit. She had to think of something, and fast. An old trick surfaced to thought amidst the pool of solutions congregating in her brain - beckoning forward to her. In a dire need to take charge of the spiralling situation, Aritsu snatched ahold of it.

Grabbing Akaashi’s wrist, she pulled him aside. He let out a short sound of surprise as she placed herself in front of him, barring their route to the classroom.

“Trust me.” she dropped her hand from his to whip out her phone from her pocket, then tilted her head upwards to search for his approval. “Can you play along?”

Confusion filled his eyes at her request, then melded into gradual understanding. Still attempting to curb the complicated emotions squeezing at his throat, Akaashi responded with a faint nod.

Returning to her phone screen, Aritsu cleared her throat and dialed their science teacher's number.

Pressing the phone to her ear, she surveyed their surroundings. Since it was nearing first period, few students lurked in the hallways to act as eyewitnesses of her scheming. A female student was frantically trying to reach a family member to fill the absence of her homework in a lonely corner outside her classroom, and a male classmate disappeared into the toilets. Neither of them bothered to spare them a glance.

Beside her, Akaashi stayed quiet, shoulders lightly heaving to regulate his breathing.

A click ended the drawn out beeping of the dial tone. “Hello?”

Her hand rose to cup her mouth over the receiver, leaning in to speak into it. “This is Aritsu. Good morning, ms…”

“Ms Tsumugi.” the voice returned with a sigh, with the tone of someone who was used to her forgetful tendencies. Aritsu held back a nervous giggle. For the love of god, she could not remember names, especially those of her teachers.

“Ms Tsumugi.” she parroted, taking advantage of the clarification to buy some time to prepare for her act. Fluttering her eyes shut, Aritsu stepped into the shoes of her role, channeling her acting skills into play.

With Akaashi’s curiosity lingering on her, she mustered her effort into displaying a convincing performance. Moving her hand over her lower abdomen and angling her head downwards, her back slid down the wall until she was sitting on her heels.

Sucking in a stream of air through clenched teeth, she feigned pain by expelling it in a hiss. “I’m really sorry to disturb you, but…I’m afraid I won’t be able to make it for the presentation…I’m having a severe case of period cramps.” she breathed.

Distant voices in the background replaced the beat of silence. A squeak of a chair intercepts with Ms Tsumugi’s reply, but the hints of her skepticism fails to escape Aritsu’s notice along with it.

“You won’t be able to make it? Did you tell Akaashi? This is a graded project in which the two of you share a part in, Aritsu.” she questions.

Aritsu’s teeth nibble at her lower lip, creating a muffled cry. “I told him. We’re in the same room right now. Would it be possible if…you could postpone our presentation to the last pair?”

Ms Tsumugi hesitates at the request. “Take a visit to the nurse’s office and get a heat pack.” she says finally. “Be back in at least an hour for your presentation.”

Someone laughs in the background close to the phone. A laugh Aritsu was close to releasing, but pinches her lips sealed in time.

“Thank you, Ms Tsumugi.” she hastily replies.

Without waiting for an answer on the other end, Aritsu hangs up and shoves her phone into her skirt pocket. As the weight tumbles into the depths of the tweed fabric, their next destination sets into mind.

Standing here in the hallway is better than being trapped in the confines of the noisy classroom, but not enough to prove as an effective alleviating agent. With students occasionally streaming in and out of classes for toilet breaks, they could easily come under scrutiny.

Only one location would meet the checklist for an ideal environment to unwind. Somewhere away from the glare of the fluorescent lights over their heads, away from brewing discussions, away from prying eyes.

"I got us permission," she tells him, spinning on her heel in the opposite direction of the classrooms. "Let's go somewhere else. Follow me."

Aritsu starts ahead, speeding up when she hears another set of footsteps echoing after hers. Turning right in between an interval in the corridor, she walks straight to the end and past a row of classrooms meant for club meetings, heading right into a stairwell and down a flight of stairs.

She stops by a window. Pushing it open, a gust of wind smacks her in the face. It runs her hair across her face, the cheeky breeze trying to sneak the strands past her lips. A smile weaves across her cheeks at its chaotic playfulness, yet relishing in its salvation from the dreary quality of the morning.

His presence joins hers next to the window. Aritsu leans into the embrace of the wind, closing her eyes to enjoy its fingers brushing comfortingly across her skin. Once it cools, the strands of hair flattening on her head, she opens her eyes to regard the sight framing the neighbourhood.

Streets snake across the city, mapping out a labyrinthine of nodes and junctions. Thin alleyways branch out to expanded roads, facilitating the segregation between living spaces and commuting highways. Apartments and buildings pepper the gaps, packed closely together like a clustered bundle of dollhouses. Tokyo is a choked up mess, a metropolis struggling to breathe with all of the activity - but squinting past it lies a familiar community that she grew up with in the fast paced city, a gallery of pastime tales.

"I like coming here when I need to catch a break." Aritsu folds her arms on the metal sill, pointing at various spots she picks out amongst the stretch of pointed peaks or slanted roofs.

A hyaku-en store squeezed between a laundromat and a KFC where Kyou and her frequently purchased their sweets from. "That's where I used to buy at least a kaboyakisan taro daily after school. It's a pressed fish snack ranging from cod to eel." she recalled the chewy texture of the snack torn with her teeth, savoury tastes coating her mouth. "The eel one was like sheer heaven on your tongue. If you get the opportunity, you should try it."

She shifted her gaze ahead, over the royal blue awning adorning the entrance to the brightly lit red and white KFC store sign. Banners with the founder's face plastered across it quavered in the air, positioned around tables set up outside the outlet.

"And this stupid KFC outlet," she remarked with a tsk. "If you head there after school for a bite, it's like suffering through another shibuya scramble crossing. Just to enjoy a piece of fried chicken, you'll have to queue for hours. I'd rather starve than wait that long."

Waving away the unpleasant memory, she dropped her gaze down the street. Her heart clenched spotting the fenced brick red walls surrounding the cream white three storey building, finger hovering in the air above the compound.

"And that's my junior high school." she introduced flatly.

"Mizuhara junior high?"

At the name of the school, Aritsu withdrew her raised hand to rest against her cheek, slumping against the sill. "Yeah. I was miserable in that school. Majority of my classmates were a bunch of slackers who viewed studying to be useless, so most of them goofed off half the time during lessons."

Akaashi offered her a sympathetic look. "That's unfortunate." he remarked quietly.

Aritsu nodded. Veritably, she was grateful for being able to get into Fukurōdani Academy albeit partly due to her father's alumni status. Determined to not end up in the same troubling predicament like her junior high days, she had clocked long hours holed up in the study, cramming revision materials into her brain. Kyou's participation was mandatory as well, for moral support and her best friend's own good.

Akaashi shifted on his feet next to her, tearing her gaze away from the world outside the window to him. Glimpsing him picking at the skin under his nails, Aritsu was reminded of the reason why she had taken him here.

Her hand flew to the tiny bump in her pocket. Slipping a hand inside, she drew it out and nudged his arm.

When he raised his head, she unwrapped her fingers around it. The words 'royce chocolate' were printed in fine cursive on the smooth peach packaging. From it, a rich and sweet scent permeated the air.

"Can I?" she reached out to take his hand. Devoid of objection, Akaashi allowed her to. Her fingers curled gingerly around his wrist, bringing his hand face up. The touch felt hesitant, a gentle warmth on his skin.

Once Aritsu placed the rectangular package onto his palm, she swallowed nervously and retracted her hand back to her side. Akaashi inspected it, picking at the opening to peer inside. Within the box lay a checkered bar of chocolate that tumbled out when he shook it.

"It's black cacao," she explained as he turned it over in his hands. “I kept one with me specially for today, just in case I wasn’t feeling like myself before the presentation. It helps with the anxiety.”

He plucks it from his palm and lifts it to his lips. Then, he puts it whole into his mouth, cheeks moving subtly as he swirls it around.

An ache in her legs from standing too long guides her to sit at the steps. Settling on the cold stone steps, she pats the ground beside her to motion him over. He props his long legs up to his chest, locking his arms over his knees.

“Thank you, Ritsu san.” he speaks after the chocolate in his mouth seems to have cleared.

Comfort unravels in her chest seeing the colour return to his cheeks, what once were shockingly pale. The conflict in his eyes disintegrates into clarity and he blinks, prompting Aritsu to jerk out of her careful examination of his mental state.

“It’s no problem-”

“I’m sorry.” Akaashi blurts out, the guilt leaking into his voice sharply abscinds the latter half of her reassurance.

His arms tighten around his legs folded to his chest. “I caused us trouble.” Annoyance crinkles his brows. “I wasn’t supposed to stress myself out like that, it must have made you uncomfortable, I…” he falters, pressing his lips together hesitantly.

He looks away from her to trace a circle on his knee, taking a while to collect his emotions. Forcing out a soft huff of air, Akaashi continues, a pause in each of his words. “I’m not good at talking in front of a crowd. I panic, and then I blank out and forget my lines. Especially when it’s a major assignment.”

There’s a dip in his voice, thinning into a low murmur. “I practiced, but it looks like it’s not enough. I’m sorry, Ritsu san.”

Each tender apology carves hollows in her heart and robs her of breath. His last words ring with a chord of anguish, a dull final note of a piano to the last verse of a parting song. It makes her heart sink, leaden chains fastening around it and squeezing.

Guilt is the least of the looks she wants painted over his face, but it's everywhere. Leaking into his voice, spilling into his features, working its way into every movement he makes. Crafting apologies over an emotion he can't control.

And she hates it. The longer she looks into it, the more unbearable it becomes. So she speaks, an absolution with words where the need to cup his face in her palms is suppressed.

"In junior high, I was suspended because I got into a fight with someone." she confesses.

Akaashi's fingers halt in drawing his fifth circle, head jerking upwards to stare at her.

Satisfaction ripples through her at how she succeeded in snagging his attention. Her head spins a little, as if in disbelief at the confession she had just uttered. Yet, she presses on, fearing that a moment of hesitation will cause the effects of her words to revert.

"A guy in my class made an insulting joke towards my female classmate, objectifying her body." a scowl tugs at her lips, the infuriating image of his face floating into her head. Not long after, It soon dissipates into an expression of fear as the scene fast forwards.

"So I punched him. A couple times." the admission relaxes her, in contrary to the way Akaashi's eyes widen. His hand has shifted into his lap, and he's now sitting cross legged on the steps.

Aritsu smiles, pleased he has stopped fidgeting about. She tilts her head to face his, a shiver running through her at how he's hanging rapt onto her every word.

"A teacher broke us apart before things got serious. He subjected me to a session of detention, informed my parents about the fight, and got me suspended for a week."

Moving to look down at her clenched hand, she wraps a hand over it, massaging her knuckles. A ghostly throb flutters in them, gained from the impact of whipping the guy's head to the side in a hard punch.

An impact she will never forget. Not because of regret, but of pride.

"I never apologised because he didn't." letting go of her fist, her hands sink into her lap. "I don't believe in apologising to people who don't know how to control what they say and don't feel sorry about it."

Fixing Akaashi with a solemn stare, Aritsu retrieves the next few words from the heart. "Likewise. Don't apologise for something you have no control over. Do you understand?"

He returns her stare with one of his own. For a brief second, doubts flash in her at his silence. Wondering if she came across as too harsh, her mouth flaps open to correct herself - but it clamps shut immediately.

"I understand." Akaashi responds.

Her heart rate climbs, just like the corners of his lips inching upwards. This time, it rises above its usual pit stop, going beyond to stretch into a full smile.

Akaashi is smiling. Not at anyone nor anything else. He's smiling at her, breathtakingly rare and beautiful like a diamond twinkling in the rough. Mercilessly setting her aflame, the softness of his eyes crumbling all coherent thought to ashes.

A powerful draught sweeps into the stairwell, slamming the windows shut.

Both heads whip towards the abrupt noise, clattering of metal sills crashing against one another ringing in the air. Two stray leaves cascade to the ground, released from the cacophony of the wind they were imprisoned by. Individually, they are uneven and incomplete. When she pieces them together mentally, fusing their jagged edges, they fit like two halves meant to find each other.

What if the same logic applied to their group project as well, uniting their individual portions into one?

A fresh plan springs upon her. Taking root, it flourishes steadily, allowing Aritsu to see the alternate possibility they can take. Excitedly, she taps Akaashi's arm.

"I've got an idea," she bursts out when he faces her. "But we'll need to reconsider the flow of our presentation."

The vague proposition piques his interest. Akaashi considers it, watching an elusive smile unfold on Aritsu's face, hooked by the allure of the mystery plan she's insinuating.

He gives her a small nod. "Tell me what you have in mind."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

As much as Akaashi desires it to not be, their escape from the inevitable lasts not for long.

Aritsu is hunched over Ms Tsumugi's laptop screen by the teacher's table, dealing instructions on how to find their document, to which she obliges with a click of her mouse. Akaashi is left to stand awkwardly by a visualiser screen pulled over the chalkboard, hands clasped behind his back.

He stares at the billboard pinned on the wall in the back of their classroom, various notices scattered across the green plane. Birthdays of their classmates, club affiliations, cleanup duty assignments, the like. Keeping himself busy counting them, definitely not thinking about the number of people in this room, how many have their eyes on him now, whether his name appears in any of their passing conversations.

Nor is he thinking about the sweat slowly collecting in the grooves of his clenched palms, an evident sign of the fear gnawing at his nerves. It does not affect him, he thinks as he swipes a wet palm across his dark grey pants. Praying that action alone doesn't leave a stain on the fabric.

His pulse jumps in his throat- no, no, absolutely not. Swallowing thickly, he pleads for consolations to flood his mind. Skipping over every living being, his focus flits, fervently counting the objects in the classroom.

Three huge windows scaling the walls. Forty chairs paired with forty tables. Each table is accompanied with four legs, so there are one hundred and sixty legs in total.

One hundred and sixty, like the seconds he has spent in sufferance under the limelight.

Which translates to two minutes and forty seconds. Since he last entered the classroom at Aritsu's lead, watching her march into the shared space with a confidence he wished he harboured. The thought dishevels him now, and he shrugs it off, resilient in maintaining his composure.

Or at least, his will is resilient. Not so much on the mental aspect that he cannot bend to his whim.

Very quickly he is running out of things to count. Minutes morph into hours, hours extends into days. Until time feels like an incomprehensible social construct. Intangible.

Very much like the churning, visceral panic assembling at the back of his mind.

A hand lands on his shoulder, prickling the bubble entrapping him and bursting it with a pop. While he was persisting in keeping it together, their slides are projected onto the screen. Ms Tsumugi has stepped up front, clapping her hands to direct the attention of the students. Aritsu has returned to his side.

"We're starting." she says, cautiously searching his face for confirmation to begin. "Ready?"

Akaashi wishes he is. He has to be. If he keeps delaying the opportunity to face it, he fears what remaining courage he has will be consumed and rendered irredeemable.

Before the last dregs of his bravado runs out, he forces out a curt nod.

Aritsu's gaze lingers. Then she removes her hand from his shoulder and moves to the right side of the visualiser screen, mouthing, "Remember, we've got this. you've got this."

Turning away from him, she faces the front. Resolve tightens in the purse of her lips, then it loosens, pitching upwards into an inviting smile. Akaashi watches, in an instant, as the girl before him transforms into someone born to be on the stage, who lives and breathes relishing in the spotlight.

"Good morning, everyone. I'm Aritsu, and together with my partner, Akaashi," she nods at him. "We'll be sharing about the science behind lactose intolerance, a condition that affects millions worldwide, and perhaps some of you in this room today."

Within just a few words, a rippling quiet spreads across the classroom. What was left of the hubbub Ms Tsumugi failed to tame dies down, the ticking of the clock the only unstoppable thing undeterred by the enrapturing quality of Aritsu's presence.

Caving in to the aching temptation to gauge the sudden silence, Akaashi surveys the faces of his classmates.

Not one, two, or maybe even five attentive gazes, but thirty eight- thirty eight, making up the whole class excluding them both. Even the most talkative of their classmates, sitting up a little straighter in their chairs. A contagious glint of curiosity gleams in their eyes. With cheeks propped up by their palms, some lean forward subconsciously, bodies irresistible towards the pull of Aritsu's charisma.

And Akaashi can feel it, too. He feels it when she speaks, the moment she takes her place at a distance from him. They are metres apart, but it's almost as if she's on another star in the universe - the sun - with the planets revolving around her, incapable of repelling the gravity that sucks them in.

She awes him. Just like their first meeting in the sandbox, blurting out passionate absurdities so earnest it makes his head whirl.

"Akaashi." her whisper jerks him out of his musings. Following her subtle glance, he notices her shake a clenched fist behind her back.

A snippet of their conversation in the stairwell floats up to mind.

"I'll give a simple introduction in the early half. Then I'll prepare you and inform you where your part begins by shaking a clenched fist behind my back."

He spurs to action immediately. Placing a milk carton on their presentation table, he unrolls a diagram that Aritsu had printed out.

This is where his participation becomes pertinent. Where he begins to speak and address the class. Akaashi fumbles clumsily with undoing the roll of paper, the thudding of his heart in his chest quickening into a deafening pace.

It feels like it's about to ricochet out. Growing louder and louder, unfocusing his actions of tapering the diagram onto the front of his uniform. Akaashi wonders if he looks like a fool, the tape obstinate in not cooperating with his fingers.

Already he feels a few curious glances dart his way. The object of their attention is shifting, like spectators in an art museum moving onward to the next piece worthy of their silent appreciation.

But if he were an art piece, it would be the one hanging in an inconspicuous corner. Not the sole painting that dominates a gallery wall, its vibrant colours screaming for admiration from the masses. One that preferably nobody notices, hidden in the shadows.

"Now that we have covered how the functions of the digestive system works in a person without lactose intolerance, let's compare it with someone diagnosed with lactose intolerance. My partner, Akaashi, is plastering the digestive diagram of someone with lactose intolerance. I will use this marker to direct the flow of milk when ingested into the system..."

Despite faintly registering Aritsu standing beside him, her presence seems to flicker, like a waning lightbulb in his mind.

Shaking, like his fingers. He can't tape the diagram to himself in time for the next portion. Panic clouds his mind, a returning assailant hell bent on his approaching demise.

Focus, his dying mental clarity grips his shoulders and rattles him. Focus. Aritsu needs your participation, you can do this, don't give in...

Warmth bleeds into the coldness hugging his sides. Aritsu's fingers tears the tape from his hands and presses the diagram to his chest. Then they are closing around his hands again, pressing a milk carton into them.

"Breathe." a soft parting whisper, and she's facing the front again, expertly switching her demeanour.

In the moment of being caught up in the tornado of his own worries, he's forgotten the most important thing: breathe. Air crashes into his lungs, relieving the command. Gradually, the fogginess of his mind clears. The activity in the class resumes, time flowing back into consciousness.

"Let's say Akaashi has lactose intolerance. When he drinks products containing lactose, for example, milk..."

The next phases of the presentation fall into place. Picking up the milk carton, Akaashi pries the tab open and looks to Aritsu.

His head is still spinning a little, but the way she holds his gaze anchors him to the present moment. Cocking his head back, he lifts the milk carton to his lips and downs a gulp of milk.

As it trickles down his throat, Aritsu presses the felt tip of a marker to the diagram on his front. Not ready yet to face those staring at him, he watches her draw a red line down from the cavities of the mouth to the oesophagus.

"After Akaashi ingests milk, it will flow from the mouth to the oesophagus, the stomach, then to the small intestine, where most of the processes of breaking down lactose takes place with the enzyme, lactase." she explains.

The red line halts at the early passage of the small intestine. "However, at this point, people with lactose intolerance lack a sufficient quantity of lactase to break down lactose." her head shoots up, locking her gaze with his. "Could you explain what this phenomenon does to our digestive system, Akaashi?"

That does it. If everybody wasn't looking at him earlier - they are now. The baton has been passed into his hands. He keeps a tentative grip on it, though it threatens to slip out any moment.

It's strange, but the thirty eight pairs of eyes don't pierce as sharply as he thought they would. Far from an uncomfortable inspection trying to nitpick at the slight waver in his voice or the hesitation in his words.

All of them pale to the amber hues resting on his. Wide and reassuring, an embrace rid of words. Reaching out to brush away the hesitation cloaking him, steadily unveiling it from shielding the words clogged in his throat.

"If it's too much to maintain eye contact with everyone, then it's alright. You can just look at me."

Akaashi's voice makes its way back to him. "the lactose accumulates in the small intestine, disrupting water absorption." the words came easier, a script scrawling in place of the blank in his head. "this causes water retention. the unabsorbed water and undigested lactose pass into the large intestine, where bacteria metabolises the lactose and generates a gas that fills the large intestine - the source for abdominal pain and flatulence."

"The water retention in the large intestine would cause the faces to become watery, hence causing people with lactose intolerance experience diarrhoea after consuming goods with lactose." he finishes.

He is far from done, but stealing a glance at his classmates - how none of them fidget uncomfortably in their seats, as if wanting to get this over with - it is as though he has accomplished whatever needs to be done.

His gaze flits back to the girl before him. Who is still staring at him, though this time a little differently. A farrago of admiration and pride dance about in her irises, convening to create a familiar veneration.

Aritsu looks at him like she does to his sandcastles eleven years ago. The same girl knelt before his masterpiece, taking it in like they are worthy of being the finest creation equivalent to a standing in the seven wonders of the world.

It makes his skin tingle, makes ambivalence swell in his chest. Akaashi is unsure of whether or not he deserves to be stared at with such an emotion, in the face of someone to whom he owes the utmost gratitude.

Relief washes over him when Aritsu finally pries her stare from his, blinking as if she's being caught red handed.

Saving him from the inkling of an emotion too profound for him to understand.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚

✧. ┊    SIDE NOTES

; glossary time. yuja tea - traditional korean honey citron tea, hyaku en - one hundred yen store, dollar store in japan, kobayakisan taro - pressed fish snack

; mini feature of fukurodani squad. i cackled writing some of the descriptions bc they felt so vile but I'm tired of describing hair over and OVER again. i wish furudate included more scenes of fukurodani squad so it would be easier to write them

; btw the guy aritsu punched was her crush. aritsu has a track record of falling in love with assholes after her first love. she mopes about it to kyou who just says "told ya that guy was a dick". aritsu never listens to kyou because she assumes kyou just hates on whoever she likes with the exception of akaashi. (which she is not wrong)

; shinsei and shiori were surprisingly calm knowing that she had beat someone up. shinsei’s comments were: “HELL YEAH THAT’S MY GIRL!!” and shiori’s comments were: “while i understand your intentions, in the future, don't resort to violence." "yeah su, don't resort to violence. resort to MORE violence-" "shin', no."

; aritsu is horrible at trying to detect sacarsm, so kyou likes to clown her on that bc she thinks its ridiculously hilarious

[shoyosluver]

"WE ARE THE BLOOD IN OUR...WAS IT VEINS OR ARTERIES AGAIN?" / T. KUROO

#3. COFFEE AT TIFFANY'S | M.LIST | PREV. | NEXT. |

warning(s): biology, mention of vomit, caffeine addiction and awful, awful life habits, don't do anything the tutor does in this i beg you please

wc: ~2.1k

"Long black for you, and hot chocolate for the mister, right?"

The barista winks as he slides two mugs across the counter, two drinks of differing degrees of brown swirling and frothing at the surface. Kuroo watches as you hold the coffee to your lips, taking a swig without so much as blowing at the steam that emanates from the mug. His fingers tug at the handle of his mug, other hand holding his head as he turns to stare at his more childish choice of hot chocolate. When he hears the knock of ceramic on wood, and your lips smacking together once, then twice, Kuroo finally lifts his own mug to his mouth, hissing at the thick liquid that burns along his tongue and throat, and he wonders how you could stomach something as bitter as black coffee, when the bitterness is a second displeasure to the taste buds after the scalding heat.

"So, y/n, you into anything in particular?"

"If you wanna ask about volleyball for the third time, the answer is still no." Kuroo's pathetic attempt at engaging in conversation backfires once again, and he curls his fingers into the handle of his mug tighter. He needs an opening to figure out your weakness, so he can pry it open until you let your grip on academic excellence loose.

"No, just anything in particular."

A droning hum sounds from your pursed lips as your wrist rotates above a spoon that stirs at coffee aimlessly. Anything in particular... you're not too sure of what intrigues you either. Coffee? You've always wanted to learn how to make drip coffee, but never had the time to watch liquid fall into a flask for hours on end. Maybe music? The guitar from last Christmas is collecting dust in the corner of your room, untouched for the past year and only ever plucked at to study the way its strings oscillate in standing waves. Your wrist stops moving when you come to realise a grave problem- you don't really have the energy to be into anything at all nowadays.

"I used to be, not so much now. Volleyball wouldn't be a bad idea, though."

Kuroo's head snaps towards you, his beloved sport finally piquing some semblance of interest from your unfeeling facade as you take another gulp of your black coffee. The thought of exploiting your interests flees his brain as it is replaced with a set of new questions. Should he bring up the pep talk now to veer the conversation? No, it's too risky, you'd kick him out of your sessions for someone who's serious about biology, and then he'll never get the badass speech he's been putting himself through torture for. Is it still worth humiliating himself in your sessions? He thinks so. If you manage to make it through biology with flying colours, then so can he. So, Kuroo settles for the next best thing.

"Well, it's actually really fun if you gi-"

"Need the bathroom, gotta piss. I'll be back."

You scuttle out of your seat, hopping off the stool and leaving Kuroo in the dust. He sighs, taking a sip at his chocolate, which has finally cooled enough to uncover the silky sweetness that lies beneath its scalding touch.

You go for a piss a total of six more times in the hour following your return from the first bathroom break. Kuroo finishes his chocolate in the silence of your presence, and the silence of your absence.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

Kuroo watches you from the two-seater table as you return from the bathroom, and hover over the counter across the cafe to grab at two drinks. Your usual seats are occupied by a bickering couple, whose hands are linked by the pinkies beneath the cool concrete counter as they point and snicker at each other. He can see the corners of your eyes crinkle at every word the barista says, and when your hands place the two drinks down to chat for a little longer, he wants to curse at you for wearing his patience thin. What’s so funny? You barely know the guy anyways, so how is normal talk coming to you so easily? Kuroo wonders if by the time he’s utterly destroyed you in chemistry, you would see him enough as an equal to consider bringing up something even a little interesting to talk about.

“Here’s your chocolate..!” Your voice ticks upwards towards the end of your sentence, as you offer a thick mug of hot chocolate to Kuroo.

“Do you know the guy?”

You shrug, gently placing down a steaming latte onto the table. Kuroo takes a peek at the milky brown that foams at the surface, and offers you a packet of sugar from a wooden box on the side. To his surprise, you pluck it from his fingers with a quick “thank you,” and empty it into the mug, stirring the sucrose into your coffee and tapping your teaspoon against the rim with a tink.

"Nah, he just recognised me from this morning, so we had a chat. Nothing major." Your eyes crinkle as you grin into the latte, taking a sip and swallowing it with an ah! Awfully cheery for a person who specialises in cutting Kuroo down like an axe to a tree.

"This morning?"

"Yeah, I grabbed another this morning too."

And out comes the truth.

"You are addicted."

"No, I'm not. I can do just fine without it."

Kuroo scoffs, obnoxiously sucking air in as he sips at his chocolate and eyes you from the horizon of his mug. You roll your eyes, and do the same with your coffee. The couple from the cement counter finally leaves, this time their arms are linked as they mock each other's voices.

"Two coffees in a day sounds like an addiction to me."

"Well, it keeps me awake."

"Only because the caffeine replaces adenosine and blocks reception temporarily. Your own words from today."

You smile at the shameless regurgitation of short term memory Kuroo spews, waving your spoon in circles like some wand.

"See, the coffees are worth it. You're starting to get the hang of this topic."

Kuroo makes a sound, one that curves like a question mark. Something pulls at his chest, and he knows something has gone wrong as he watches you point at him with the spoon, wiggling your eyebrows. He doesn't understand a word of what he has just said, and only knows the pronunciation from hearing you say it over and over again twenty minutes prior. Something about hormones, and glands, and a bunch of other stuff that he swears he'll fully understand. Someday.

"What?" That comes out more like a judgemental drone than he intended it to.

"The notes, they're good right? Said you were bad at hormones and all the other day, and I didn't have notes that were easy enough to understand, so I remade them last night."

You take another swig at your latte, and Kuroo can do nothing but stare, silence taking over the noise of his bickering. He only said hormones to joke about his recent acne outbreak.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

"No chocolate today?" The usual barista offhandedly comments at the new order that graces the counter.

"Nope, just the matcha, and the latte, thanks."

"I assume the matcha is yours?"

Kuroo shakes his head, nudging it in your direction. The barista peeks over his shoulder to see your hunched figure, a mess of hair lying motionless on the concrete surface. Kuroo's condition isn't much better, dark bags lining the underside of his eyes as he slides the drinks towards his seat, waving the barista off and sitting beside you.

"Rough night?"

"Understatement."

"Understood."

The brown liquid swirls alluringly in Kuroo's mug as he rips open two packets of sugar, and empties their contents into his latte. If he's understood his studying from last night correctly, small doses of caffeine should, by all means, compensatorily increase adenosine content within the body, which stimulates circulating chemoreceptors. He can only hope that it all works the same on a coffee virgin. The first sip is odd, the combination of tooth-achingly sweet sugar and scalding, putrid coffee is certainly eye opening, but not half-bad. The second sip nullifies all effects of sugar, and all Kuroo is left with is the acidic aftertaste of espresso. Never again after today.

He turns to ask you how you could possibly stomach any more caffeine that what is in his watered down, sweetened latte, only to see your empty drink. Bubbles of green settle at the bottom, the ceramic of the mug still steaming as you wipe your mouth lazily on a napkin, before setting your head back down on the counter. From the chapter he studied last night, Kuroo also knows that the theanine in matcha enhances dopamine and glycine release, which should counteract the spike in energy levels that caffeine brings about, and promote relaxation. He isn't sure that it was what you wanted, but he thinks you knew it was what you needed.

"Why the change of heart? Coffee just not doing it anymore?"

You mumble into your arms at his question, legs still wobbly and numb from the usual walk to the cafe as they hang from your stool.

"Can't do any more of it, might blow my guts up."

"See, told you it was an addiction."

Your arm comes up to smack at his shoulder, before dropping back onto the counter lifelessly.

"You try getting three hours of sleep only because you can't stop throwing up."

The matcha does absolutely nothing to get your mind moving again, and you want to punch yourself for it. You cringe at the mistakes you made during the tutoring session beneath your arms; confusing adrenaline with adenosine an embarrassing number of times, losing track of hormonal glands on diagrams that looked more like drawings of a child in your hazy vision, even forgetting what chemoreceptors were. Having to remake notes, study for two upcoming chemistry and biology exams, and somehow be energised enough to teach the next day, you'd be lying if you said this tutoring gig wasn't taking a hefty toll on you.

"That doesn't sound good, y/n."

"It's not, I know. Therefore, matcha."

If the cafe has some sort of furnace, or fireplace, or maybe even a trapdoor, Kuroo would like to jump in right now. This was supposed to be easy, get the pep talk, and go on his merry way.

So what in the world has he roped you, and himself into?

He watches you stir in your cold slumber, the cold counter serving as a pillow. There is no more edge, nothing to shield you from the world. Your words are soft, tired, yet they shoot into Kuroo's chest like bullets of guilt, and he rethinks every decision he's made leading up to this moment.

"You need to rest."

"Then you won't get your notes."

I don't need the stupid notes, but you need the rest. How could I feel satisfied beating you, if I'm only beating you when you're half dead?

Kuroo bites his tongue, and swallows his unspoken words. He takes another sip from his latte.

▬▬▬▬▬▬▬

"We're not going to coffee."

"Fuck you mean?"

Kuroo pulls his bag from beneath his chair, unzipping it to throw a thermos flask, and a package of baking paper in front of you. You pout at the thermos, the familiar scent of coffee nowhere to be found even as you pick it up and sniff the edges of the lid.

"Eat and drink up."

"I want my coffee, though."

Another thermos comes out of Kuroo's bag, yet the scent of caffeine is still glaringly absent. He sighs, twisting open the cap and taking in a mouthful of iced tea and honey. You unwrap the baking paper to reveal a sandwich. Ham and egg, nothing special, tempting nonetheless.

"Yeah no. No coffee. Can't have you half dead and vomiting everywhere."

"When will I get the coffee back then, Kuroo?"

He shrugs, clicking his tongue as he takes another drink out of his thermos. You stuff half the sandwich into your mouth in one go, pillowy bread and creamy egg salad filling your taste buds as you hum in satisfaction. If this is the kind of food Kuroo's cooking up, maybe giving up coffee for a while is worth it after all.

"Dunno, probably when we graduate or something. Not my problem anymore once you get rid of me."

author's note:

finally got this chapter finished and i kinda love how it turned out!! esp the last two parts but that's just me ANYWAYS sorry for supes inconsistent updates i've been drowning in sm work and stuff irl and it's really killing me lowkey but writing genuinely makes me feel so much better that i just knew i had to finish this chapter off so i hope you guys like this as much as i do<3

tags: @staraxiaa @chuuya-brainrot @akaakeis @hiraethwa @kuroppiii @iiwaijime @she-lovesmyheartshapedsunglasses @cupidsblonde @catsoupki @bailey-reeds @wyrcan @fiannee @shoyosluver @haikyuusunsalad

[shoyosluver]

BOKUTO IS A CLEAN PERSON!!! HE WOULD TAKE SHOWERS!!! HE WOULD TAKE CARE OF HIMSELF AND WORRY ABOUT HIS HYGIENE!!!

[shoyosluver]

where you don't see me ★ one.

notes

- neither of them ever talk about that summer, but when it's mentioned they bring it up longingly (fond smile, bashful look)

- rintaro has tried prying it out of both of them and neither break

- kenma always streams her matches (varsity, national, and international)

- osamu always texts yn after a game (win or loss)

[shoyosluver]

osamu didn’t really have a favorite color.

it wasn’t until he saw you after school one chilly autumn day, your face lighting up with the question, “is that jacket new, ‘samu?”

he nodded—he didn’t think too much of it when he got it for his birthday, so he surely didn’t expect anyone else to notice. “a gift from ma.”

“i like it, it’s my favorite color,” you took in his full appearance, your eyes looking him up and down, “it suits ya.” a cackle escaped you at osamu’s flustered face, only growing louder with him grumbling, “shaddup.” osamu’s biggest tell was always his accent thickening, and you knew it.

as winter came, osamu found himself wearing that same jacket to and from school every day, ignoring atsumu’s relentless “whadda simp” comments, as a part of him hoped you’d one day be chilly enough to need his coat.

and when that day came, with his jacket hugging your figure as you nuzzled in his leftover body heat, osamu found it hard to breathe.

in that moment, he realized he’d found his new favorite color—yours.

a/n: sorry osamu if reader’s favorite color is pink😔 bro’s looking like pepto-bismol.

like my work? check out my masterlist!

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please do not copy, alter, or repost my work. ©bokutoko 2024.

[shoyosluver]

-ˋˏ✄┈ 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 : 009

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ WHEN PUSH COMES TO SHOVE ❜┊

— akaashi x f!oc!reader

◦ ‘ it’s getting clearer little by little

there’s only one such heart in the world ’

🔊 :: track eight, polaroid love

note: i realised that links for the song will take you to spotify and only play a small part of it, for the full version, you can search it up to listen on spotify or other music platforms to enhance the reading experience!

CW ; written in third person, texting portions included, aritsu goes through a major crisis here with her feelings

WC ; 5.9k

icymi!! find the reprise masterlist here

At first, Aritsu had been doubtful whether she had gotten the right place. Climbing up four flights of stairs to get to the fourth floor of the Akamon building had been an unexpected workout that puzzled her, especially with the preconceived idea that the cafe was located street-level, by the Osu shopping district.

This misconception of the cafe location had her pacing back and forth down the street outside the Akamon building, trying to find the cute handmade welcome sign to the cafe as shown in the guide. Eventually it was dispelled when she pulled out her maps app and navigated herself into the building, pink cheeked and huffing under her breath at the extra fuss caused by her oversight.

In spite of her exasperation over her inattentiveness to detail, her sullen grumblings came to a halt once she pushed open the half glassed mahogany door.

The plethora of lush greenery caught her eye first, hanging ivies dangling from a maze of sculpted branches creeping across the ceiling. Amongst the makeshift forest, stuffed plushies of iconic ghibli characters peeked out behind a cage of artificial vines. She spotted the cat bus from totoro nestled atop a low hanging branch, its cheshire grin and yellow eyes with thin black pupils watching her make an entry into the cafe.

A line of shelves rested against the wall, hosting a variety of picture frames, each a gateway into the mystical world of studio ghibli. Where the picture frames were absent, Japanese volumes stood with another family of plushies estranged from the ones living in the forested ceiling. Aritsu found herself getting lost in the vibrant colours presented in the paintings within the picture frames, stopping a while to admire each one she walked past.

Aritsu bowed her head in polite greeting to the staff members who welcomed her with warm smiles. One of them stepped out from behind the counter after confirming her reservation. Following the staff member to her seat, she took in her surroundings, soaking in the cosy ambience of the cafe.

Few groups of people huddled around birch wood tables, chatting in hushed voices. Aritsu observed that the cafe was rather empty at this time of the day, though perhaps it was because she had made a reservation during the non peak hours. Passing a group of longtime friends catching up with one another, the smell of their delectable orders made her appetite surge. Instinctively she swallowed, glimpsing the crisp golden brown of their toasts and sunny side ups sprawled across, oozing a stream of yolk.

Fighting back the wave of hunger rising in her, she concentrated on running through the objectives she hoped to accomplish at the end of today's date with Oikawa.

One, she is to try her best to be as friendly as possible towards him. While this might have been a date forced upon her by Shinsei, Aritsu believed in keeping an open mind - who knows if Oikawa had the potential of being someone she could click with? Their first meeting did not spark any attraction, but perhaps the second would prove otherwise.

Maybe she would fall for him. Give Shinsei what he wanted, rid herself of the hassle of having to tell him that her heart was somewhere else - oh, by that she meant her desire to stay alone for now.

Certainly not her kindling attraction to her desk partner.

Which brought her to the second objective, the most troubling of all.

Two, she is to forget about Akaashi Keiji. For the entirety of their date, and even better, forever. Ban herself from drawing any connection to him. Erase his name from lurking around in her daydreams. Quell the frantic beating of her heart when his face surfaced in mind, shaking away the distracting thoughts that threatened the boundaries she set for their strict friendship.

Aritsu adjusted the collar of her long silk sleeves, needing something to do with her hands at her quavering resilience to keep to her second objective. Needing a desperate distraction, she focused back to her surroundings, noticing that the staff member in front of her had stepped aside to reveal her seat - and the boy across from it.

"Hey there, Tomo chan." Oikawa lifted his hand, greeting her with an easygoing smile and a casual wave. He had donned a pressed white collared shirt with a beige vest thrown over it, paired with dark brown long trousers and old school vans.

Strangely, Aritsu's gut sense had pegged him as someone who lacked a sense of fashion. Though she wasn't one to talk with how she had struggled to come up with a presentable outfit, having to resort to scrolling through her Pinterest board for ideas.

That was what her brain decided to go with instead of greeting him normally.

"I didn't know you had a sense of fashion," she stated bluntly.

A stunned pause lapsed between the two of them, before it was fractured by soft chuckles.

"Really now, Tomo chan? No hello or hi?" Oikawa questioned, leaning forward slightly in his seat to cup his cheek in amusement.

It was a tease aimed to fluster her for her direct assault, but Aritsu was not deterred. She simply begin to justify her opinions, tugging out a chair and sitting down while doing so, "When I first saw you, I didn't think you would have an acute fashion sense because of what you wore to the dinner party."

"If you had one," she said, shooting him a pointed gaze. "you would have thought about changing out of your volleyball jersey into something more sophisticated."

Her justifications were met with raised eyebrows. Clearly this had not been what he had been expecting, but Oikawa shrugged off his bewilderment, putting on a tailored smile. However, she could tell he was offended at the faint twitching of his smile that he kept together.

Though it was just a hunch, to Aritsu, Oikawa seemed like the type of person to put on his best self into charming others on the first date. Behind his facade, she felt, lay an entirely different person from what he displayed. Just for the sake of maintaining a good first impression, he would be chivalrous and relenting.

And as she had guessed, instead of letting his displeasure show, Oikawa clapped his hands together and dismissed her remark amicably.

"You must be hungry!" he said, handing her a copy of the menu. "Let us not starve ourselves. Come, order what you would like."

Aritsu opened her mouth to point out the fact that he was dodging her accusation - but closed it, realising that she was here not to pick him apart but to be his date. Begrudgingly, she accepted the copy of the menu and examined it.

"I'll have the omelette rice." Aritsu decided, placing the menu down after debating her options swiftly in her head. Compared to the drinks section, the meal choices on the menu were limited, hence it did not take her long to pick a dish she preferred. The same could not be said for the drinks which she left to agonise about later on.

"Ah?" she looked up from studying the drinks section on the menu to meet Oikawa's bemused gaze. "What a coincidence. That's what I wanted to order as well."

The appeal of her order faded at his words, prompting a change of mind. "That so? then I'll have a fire demon bacon and egg set instead."

She stole the slip of paper by his side of the table to write their orders on, clicking her pen to start jotting them down. Before the nub of her pen could graze the paper, Oikawa's hand shot into view, pulling it back such that it touched the table instead.

Aritsu blinked at the mark she made on the smooth birch wood. Regret hit her at tainting its purity. Instantly, she tried to rub it away with her thumb.

"Why not take the omelette rice?" Oikawa's inquiry prodded into her valiant efforts. She frowned, seeing that she had only made it worse by smudging the ink and leaving a dark stain on the light wood. Giving up on trying to fix her mistake, she turned her attention to his query.

Oikawa stared back at her with mild curiosity, a hand pressed onto the slip of paper. Judging by the subtle purse of his lips, Aritsu realised she had mistakenly struck a nerve by her change of heart. Quickly, she reasoned with him to clear the misunderstanding.

"Because I don't want to eat duplicates with someone." Aritsu explained, attempting to take back the slip of paper. Coaxing it out of his fingers, she slipped it back into her hold. "If we order two different dishes, we'll have a chance to sample each other's orders. It's the best of both worlds."

Realisation settles into his features at her elaboration, softening the stiff purse of his lips. "I see. Then, it's no problem," he waves off his initial concerns, leaning back into his chair and letting her write their orders down.

He does not make a move to say anything in succession afterwards, though his watchful gaze trained on hers as she checks the boxes on the slip of paper clues at a bubbling question to come forth. It weighs tentatively on her, as if in silent assessment.

Tired of the drawn out staring, Aritsu completes the orders and delivers it to the service lady promptly, turning to him as the waitress departs through a pair of sliding shoji doors. Oikawa smiles when she hums, nipping at the opportunity to speak.

"Seeing that you've invited me to a ghibli cafe, I assume you must have an interest in the works produced by studio ghibli?"

Obviously. She withheld the urge to call him out on his stupid question. It faintly annoyed her because it reminded her of a certain someone - Shinsei's - redundant questions that he posed without much thought, lacking the conscience to think before he speaks. Or more like he did not bother to offer his regards to a topic that failed to interest him.

Oikawa resembled her old man in that way. If she squinted, their charming smiles mirrored one another's. The sloping curve of the smile lines that appeared at the pull of their lips, a roguish smile sprinkled with deceitful charm. Even down to the way he clasped his hands in his lap, folding on leg atop the other.

She blinked, discarding the image of Shinsei in front of her with scorn. Particularly now at a time where she had to try liking Oikawa, thinking about her father would only spoil the positive feelings she had painstakingly instilled in herself for the date.

Redirecting her focus to a packet of konpeito placed in a tiny wicker basket, she tore it open as she answered. "Yeah. I grew up with them."

"You did? May I ask what's your favourite ghibli movie then, Tomo chan?"

Aritsu falters, cringing at the nickname he's given her. Out of all the nicknames she has been given against her will in life, this one skyrockets all the way to the podium to sit on the third ranking. Below the infamous 'Su' and 'Aritsu'. The latter was not a nickname, but she loathed categorising it under her formal name.

An evil idea unfurls in her mind. Biting back a chuckle at the thought, she lets her sardonic side win, doing away with the dreaded nickname being tagged of higher importance than sticking to establishing a good first impression.

Digging out a konpeito from within the packet, she pops it into her mouth. "How about you state yours first, Oi oi san?"

The nickname freezes his smile. A sheet of iciness falls over his face, turning the edges of her lips into a satisfied smirk at how the cheery mask of his cracks with a twitch of his eyebrows. But he's quick to recover, smoothing over his temporary loss of composure.

"Oi oi san?" he echoes after her, shifting forward in his seat. "How adorable. I didn't know we had progressed so rapidly to a stage of giving one another affectionate pet names, Tomo chan."

He returns the challenge back in her face like a deserving smack. She gives the konpeito swirling in her mouth an agitated suck, the sugary sweetness that blooms on her tongue a stark contrast to the usurping competitiveness at his refusal to surrender.

Under the threat of those provocations, their conversation spirals into a passive aggressive banter of covert conflict. A dangerous waltz in a ballroom littered with glass shards, tension simmering in the exchange, anticipating either competitor to lose their footing.

"I'm afraid you're delusional if you can't tell the difference between a taunt and affection, Oi oi san." she simpers, crunching the remnants of the konpeito between her teeth, splintering it into tiny chunks.

"You may set your concern aside, Tomo chan. While I'm deeply touched you do care for my state of mind, I'm more concerned with you - I think you should embrace affection freely given to you." he took a konpeito from her packet, snatching it before objections flitted to her lips.

His sneaky actions that bypassed her notice furrows her eyebrows. Aritsu sets a protective hand against the packet, darting her gaze to the other that continues to sit in the wicker basket. “I think you’re mistaken. It’s not that I choose to reject your affection, Oi oi san, but rather - ”

You're not the one who owns my heart.

Two steaming plates of food clatter onto the table, disrupting their conversation before Aritsu comes close to saying the most stupid thing to ever admit to someone she's supposed to try dating.

Her chest constricts, feeling the blood rush to her ears at the knowledge that kicks in at the near confession. It sticks to her tongue, on the verge of toppling out along with her heart at the fact that she was about to say his name.

Akaashi's name.

The konpeito in her mouth melts into a puddle of sticky sweetness, enveloping her tastebuds thickly until she can taste nothing but the delirious rush of sugar racing to her brain.

Oikawa reacts first, being the one to thank the waitress for the food with a genial smile. He's also the one to rearrange the order of the food, switching the plate of omelette rice shaped like mei's hat in my neighbour totoro with the fire demon bacon and egg set.

Smoke hisses into her face. A glistening fat strip of juicy bacon sprawls across a cobalt pan of fried rice and a sunny side up. The light simmering coming from the bacon snaps her out of a daze, coaxing the frantic thudding of her heart to slow.

"...my favourite ghibli movie is only yesterday." she says.

An astonished eyebrow climbs up Oikawa's forehead, but Aritsu presses on, paying no mind to the abrupt jump in topic. Objective two flashes before her eyes, a warning of what she almost breached.

"It's a heartfelt story crafted from the nostalgia of our childhood that explores the inner turmoils of growing up. In the movie, they leap between two timelines: our main character's past memories of being a young girl and the present, where she is an adult with a job." she picks up the knife and cuts across the yolk, watching it part and rain down upon the mountain of fried rice.

Using her spoon, she shovels up a combination of rice infused with yolk into her mouth. Across from her, Oikawa follows suit to start his meal. She's relieved he lets her off the hook for not finishing her sentence earlier, picking up on her wish to swap topics.

The relief is short lived. Aritsu grimaces in horror witnessing him ruthlessly tear mei's hat apart without hesitation. To this, Oikawa brushes her grimace off with a lighthearted chuckle, which feels cruel especially after his heartless deconstruction of the chef's hard work into preparing the presentation of his meal.

"So it's a parallel between her childhood and life as an adult then?" Oikawa asks in between bites.

"Yes. It's lovely, the way they compare the differences in the challenges she faces in her childhood to her present concerns. It makes us notice how small the problems are beside our current ones, when we used to think of them as the biggest hurdles in life." reflecting on the elements of the movie, a tender fondness fills her at the reminiscence. "One of my favourite scenes was when she remembered her first crush vividly. It's true that our first crushes stick to us even after decades."

Just like how she can recall her first meeting with Akaashi in a sandbox, having it play frame by frame in full detail- not again!

An imaginary buzzer blares at her for crossing into the tapered off zone. Aritsu stabs her fork into the sunny side up, jolting both Oikawa and herself at the shrill piercing clang that resounds from the metal prongs scraping against the pan.

Immediately, she retracts the fork and hurriedly brushes a strand of hair behind her ear, acting as if her outburst was intentional. Much to her dismay, his puzzled look flitting from the pan to her face tells her that she was not as skilled in covering up for her slip up.

Occupied with wrestling the box of emotions bursting at the seams, her mind interlocked in a battle with her heart, she turns to her second choice: her mouth.

It is no saving grace, but Aritsu's grasping at straws now.

"Another one of my favourites is the wind rises. I resonate with how the main character's obsession with planes, his creations and work, eventually detached him into a state of isolation from the things he loved."

She hates the whisper of a faint wobble in her voice. Her eyes remain peeled to the action of stripping a troublesome piece of bacon, fearing that the wild panic in her eyes would give her away at a single glance. A line of fat clings stubbornly to the bacon after multiple drags of the knife across it, like her thoughts, unwilling to separate themselves from him.

Aritsu keeps talking. She won't stop her mouth from moving, afraid to pause for even a beat. Her motions at tugging the knife back and forth against the line of fat quickens with a frenzied fervour.

Letting her mouth lead for a while is safe. But set it free for a prolonged period of time - chaos ensues. The power of the word forget weakens, the seal of objective two coming apart, her suppressed feelings gushing free and leaking into her speech.

"The main character's my comfort character. Kind of like my childhood crush. Even though he got swept up by his ambitions, I admire him for his passions and hardworking spirit."

"It reminds me of - " Don't do it. A slow horror seeps into her as her mind clears, no longer engaging in a tug of war with her heart. Because it lost.

And soon her mouth will too.

"-someone I like." she spills out.

Oikawa's eyes widen at the confession, his mouth hanging open to the delayed receive of an omelette that dangles off the prongs of his fork. Dread slams onto her, a crashing weight sending her reeling back in shock.

Her tongue feels tied now when she needs it, as if punishing itself for uttering the very words she wanted to bury. "I mean, someone I used to like. I don't like him now. First love doesn't last, anyway, so definitely not. We're just friends."

The repetitive denial carves a grave beneath her feet. It's not convincing at all - not with the subtle stutter of her words. Aritsu laughs shakily, though judging by the unconvinced expression on Oikawa's face, there is no point to acting it away.

As she had thought, a teasing smile appears to placate the surprise on his face. "You're lying."

Objections tumble out at default. "I'm not."

She knows it is useless to deny it. Yet it serves to be the only comeback, in spite of its weak effect that does nothing to knock off the knowing smirk on his face.

Biding his time, Oikawa takes a bite off his fork and swallows before speaking. Her heart twists nervously under his scrutinisation, as if he can sniff out her unspoken thoughts, look beyond the firm set of her face to pick apart her lies.

"I think this is it. It's time for me to come clean," he speaks suddenly, setting down his fork. His peculiar remark sets her at unease, which swiftly shifts into stupefaction at the casual bombshell he drops next. "I have a girlfriend."

Erm...what the heck?

The expression worn on Aritsu's must be akin to one of stumped shock, because Oikawa basks in it as a form of amusement. Casually, he carried on, not minding if she needed more time to process.

"Before you overwhelm me with questions, I only came because I could not oppose Shinsei's proposal. I planned to break it to you after our first meeting in private, but I was profoundly surprised to find out you felt disinterested. So I thought, hey, maybe I could get to know you and be friends instead." he dabbled on, gaze sharpening when it met hers. "And I had a feeling that there was a reason - a special person - that would excuse your disinterest as well."

At the break in his words, the brief pause allows the revelation of his intentions to sink in. Aritsu blinks. Once, twice, thrice - then she finally chimes in.

"So you're not interested." she repeats. He nods.

The joy that surges in her brings upon a reassuring gasp. Aritsu's shoulders sag, slumping into her chair. She murmurs words of gratefulness, a gladdened smile smoothing her gobsmacked expression.

"I know you like someone, but can you act a little disappointed at least? Your obvious delight wounds my pride." Oikawa pouts, cheeks puffing up as he stuffs a bite of omelette rice into his mouth.

Aritsu grins in reply, not at all guilty for showcasing her delight so openly. It's freeing to drop the act of pretending she's interested in him, like someone had attached a pair of wings to her back to let her soar through the skies.

"Why should I? This is a piece of good news." she remarks playfully, smile growing at the scoff he makes at her tease.

But it quickly vanishes when he counters her, easily gaining back his edge. "Now, Tomo chan, don't think I've forgotten about your little crush." He waves the fork at her, snickering at her shoulders tensing up.

"I already told you, it's an old crush." Aritsu flies to her own defence at the speed of light. "Now quit bothering me-"

Oikawa cuts her off expertly with a raise of his fork in mid air. "Is he attractive?"

The random question forced into her unraveling oppositions jams her speech to a halt. An unopened pandora box clicks open in her mind, one she's hesitant to touch at all, flooding her head with a shameless collection of Akaashi Keijis.

One by one, they jostle for her attention. Each one makes her feel more lightheaded than the last, swept away in a dizzying gallery of him, wheedling out the feelings she's kept locked away in her heart.

His wondrous smile, standing before his sandcastle masterpiece. The sweet, slow arch of his lips, filled with the admiration that radiated off it - ensorcelling her in its spell.

His secure and comforting embrace that silenced the racket of noises in her mind. In the hustle of the train, he remained still, anchoring her to his side like a guardian angel keeping her from teetering into the choking feeling of being oppressed by foul memories.

His low voice whispering encouragingly by her ear, patiently guiding her through the complicating web of equations. Shivers rippled against her skin, humming at how close he was standing.

His lowered head next to hers, peering over her screen at a game of papa's cheeseria. The tranquil peacefulness that veiled the two of them in their own small world. She had watched him shamelessly, knowing he wouldn't look up from her screen to know. To feel her eyes resting on the comical seriousness of his face, to see the soft smile subconsciously pitching her lips upwards.

A sea of golden set slowly over the skies. A breathless exhale escaped Aritsu's lips as it touched the blinds next to them, gradually spilling through the small slits and filling the expanse of the cafe, soaking the both of them in its romantic warmth - the familiarity of it transporting her back into yesterday.

Akaashi standing before her in the convenience store, head bowed to look down at his phone. The gentle golden rays had bathed him in an unearthly glow, wrapping him in its magnificence. Shadows casted over his long lashes, tinting his cheeks awash with a rosy glow, skin so soft under the caress of the setting sun.

Her gaze had brushed over each feature on his face with delicacy, lingering on the softness of his lips. She felt sinful for just looking at him, even more so for the forbidden thoughts that gathered in her head.

She would stand there forever if she could, until timelines blended into the next, until her feet gave in. He makes her forget, hours spent together shortening into mere seconds.

Aritsu pinches her lips together. Bit by bit, her hesitance chips away, peeling back to reveal the daunting truth.

The curtain falls to the relentless flapping of a bird beating in the cage of her heart. It stands at the end of a darkened hallway. Metallic iron gleams under the spotlight.

There's nowhere else to look. Everything around her is shrouded in pitch blackness. The caged bird is singing to her, lulling her in with its melodious song. She's drawn to it, the musical notes gripping at her hand and tugging her over with a stumble in her step.

Up close, the dove is divine, its pristine white feathers rid of impurity. Snapping its beak shut at her arrival, it pecks at the steadfast iron bars keeping it captive. The action seems adorable, the slight cock of its head when it meets Aritsu's eyes. Lowering her head, she glimpses the key to its cage laid before her.

She presses a hand to the key. It sears, flaring red hot at her touch. With a wince, Aritsu jerks her hand back immediately. Her head pounds at the reminder of getting too close, how she will be burned.

"He's like the night sky." Aritsu replies softly, poking her fork on her cold slice of bacon. "And I'm just one of the twinkling stars that hangs in it."

A thoughtful hum drifts to her from Oikawa's side. Then it's followed by the shuffling of his chair leg against the floor, the rustle of his sleeve when he leans forward.

A snap rings in Aritsu's ears when his fingers make contact against her forehead.

"What the-!" a yell expels from her lips, head jutting up as her hands rush to clasp her forehead.

Oikawa smiles proudly, drawing his hand back to his side with a flick. It stirs her ire at his nonchalance after delivering her such a rude interruption. The stinging pain thrums through her skull, the leftover impact pinching her skin like a tight slap.

"Don't get me wrong, Tomo chan. I'm not asking for you to confess," he says before she fires curses at him. "I'm asking you to come to terms with your feelings."

Aritsu's hard stare softens as he falls back in his chair. Gradually, she retracts her hands from the fading pain in her forehead. Oikawa scrapes up the remnants of his omelette rice.

Finished with his meal, he swipes a napkin across his lips and looks back at her contemplative expression. "So, tell me. Do you like him?"

Her heart squeezes with the bittersweet realisation formed from Oikawa's words.

Denying it forever will only hurt her more, developing into a potent lovesickness. She doesn't have to let him know how much she likes him, but she can allow herself to feel.

He can see her as just a friend, but she can see him as more than that in secret.

The cage holding the dove expands. A wry smile wanders upon Aritsu's face when it spreads its wings, making a single swooping round before coming to a stop to prod at the unfamiliar addition of space.

For now, the yearning trapped in its red irises will have to stay content with the current predicament.

An answer floats to her easily, an inarguable truth she has never been able to deny completely. "I like him."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

After a hearty meal and a couple of drinks, Oikawa offers to walk Aritsu to the nearby station for her to catch the train back to Tokyo. Fortunately for them, the peak hour has briefly passed. Crowds on the streets have thinned, allowing them to stroll without having to succumb to the flow of human traffic.

Aritsu casts a departing glance towards the Akamon building, reluctant to leave the modest but ornate cafe. Enjoying the specially themed dishes amongst their elaborate decorations had been an enchanting experience, sweeping her off into the fantastical world depicted in the ghibli universe. A blast to the past of her childhood movies that held a special place in her heart.

"Tomo chan," a tap on her shoulder spins her around to face Oikawa, holding out a disposable mask he purchased from his short convenience store trip.

Aritsu regards the mask with a curious frown. "What's this for?" she asks, seeing that he has strapped one onto his ears.

He pushes it into her hands when she doesn't take it. "You see, being a well known setter, I'm quite popular." he explains his mysterious intentions as she gives the mask a once-over, checking for defects. A habit cultivated by her punctilious mother. "And as all popular people do, I have a fan club. In order to protect your identity and mine to avoid people from seeing us and spreading rumours, put this on."

This news doesn't strike her as shocking, being someone who falls victim to the attention of the public as well. However, due to her effort in changing her appearance, she doesn't have to resort to such troublesome tactics. Wearing a mask made Aritsu feel like she was being choked and limited to breathing in a certain quantity of air.

Although for Oikawa's sake, she obliged, slipping it on. Satisfied, he turned to lead the way to the train station. They walked alongside each other, Aritsu tugging on her mask occasionally to breathe.

"This is a pain," she murmurs, earning a tiny chuckle from his side. Every time she pulls the mask down, the urge to resist pulling it back up weakens significantly. She's tempted to give in and let it be - screw the rumours - but that would defeat the purpose of wearing the mask in the first place.

With a reluctant sigh, she pulls it back to rest on the bridge of her nose. Instantly, a stiff stuffiness clogs her breathing.

"I don't understand how you can get used to the suffocation. Don't you have a girlfriend? how does she live?" Aritsu brings up. If wearing a mask once proves to be this bothersome for her, Oikawa's girlfriend must have had it ten times worse. Shuddering at the thought, she sends her silent admirations to the poor girl for having to put up with both masks and Oikawa Tooru himself.

"How does she live? happily, of course. She's my girlfriend." he replies, throwing her a sideways grin.

Never mind. Aritsu rolls her eyes, deciding to stray off the topic and save herself from an incoming essay about Oikawa's girlfriend. Reaching into her tote bag, she pulls out her phone just as her screen turns on with a message coming in.

A scowl paints her face at Shinsei's profile picture popping up in the notification bubble. Without needing to click into the chat, she can already foretell what he wants to ask her. About how the date went, for starters. Then a request to grab a fresh stash of umeboshi candies from the convenience store.

Aritsu shoves her phone back into her tote bag, making a mental note to swing by the convenience store later. Laziness sure can inspire people to go to great lengths, the reason behind Shinsei's continued trust even after her splurge on the last grocery run.

That leaves only the first problem to resolve: how to tell him about her cafe date with Oikawa - which deviated greatly from expectation.

"Hey," she calls out to him. In the corner of her eye, Oikawa shifts slightly to look at her with a small hum.

"What are you going to tell Shinsei now that we have clarified we're not actually interested in one another?"

There's a brief pause in his steps as he considers her question. "I guess you can tell him it didn't work out. If you dated me, you'd never be able to leave me." he suggests, a teasing dip in his voice.

His bold statement elicits a snort from Aritsu. "Yeah, right. That's what he doesn't want, orchestrating the whole date." she comments sarcastically, side stepping a curb jutting out from the corner of the elevated pavement.

The signpost of the train station looms above their heads. Below their feet, the ground dips, their path descending into a flight of stairs.

"I'll just tell him we didn't click well." Aritsu says, hugging her tote bag to her chest when they start down the stairs. She skips the last step, landing on the floor with a bounce. Beside her, Oikawa huffs, disappointed at how she passed over his suggestion.

Their journey together concludes at the gantry. Tugging Oikawa aside, she finds a corner to dig through her tote bag for her ticket.

"Thanks for today," Oikawa mentions as she withdraws the ticket from her bag, catching onto the edge. "I enjoyed the free entertainment and the food. Hopefully, next time I'll manage to meet the mysterious boy of your dreams." he adds playfully.

At his hopeful implication of their future meetings, Aritsu arches a brow. "Who said they'll be a next time?" she slings the strap of the tote bag back onto her shoulder, letting a smile unfold spotting the gobsmacked expression on Oikawa's face.

To be honest, their 'date' ended with a satisfying finish. Giving Oikawa a second chance - though not in the way that Aritsu had originally planned - was not so much of a bad decision. Unexpectedly, he provided clarity to her unorganised feelings aside from the dramatics or cracking bad jokes.

"I'm joking," she states, putting a stop to the protests bubbling to his lips. "Maybe they'll be a next time, where we hang out as friends."

A devious glint flashes in his eyes. "We could go on a double date."

No way he thought she would be foolish enough to snare herself in his scheming traps, with her imagination outpacing his thought process in the unspoken.

"Absolutely not." Aritsu retorts, inserting her ticket into the machine and speed walking through the gantry, letting him air the rest of his ludricious ideas to a cloud of dust.

She does, however, return his wave from across the platform before turning their backs on one another to head their separate ways. Oikawa, back to his temporary residence in a hotel room since he was too late to catch the last train from Nagoya to Miyagi.

And Aritsu, back to Tokyo where a packet of Umeboshi candies, a nosy father, and a call from her crush about their presentation on Monday awaits.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚

✧. ┊    SIDE NOTES

; mini glossary here. umeboshi - preserved plums, konpeito - a type of sugar candy in japan

; i migghhtt have gotten a little too metaphorical with the symbolisations in this chapter and got carried away...please let me know y'all understand what they represent though. i'm actually lowkey proud of them it was like a eureka! moment

; adding this randomly here but initially i wanted to convert the second part of this chapter into text form. however my brain went 'nah this ain't feel right' so i wrote it all out instead (for better or for worse i hope it's the latter)

; oikawa canonly does not have style you CANNOT convince me he does. NOT WITH THE HORRIFYING PLAID OUTFIT THAT BOMBS ME IN MY NIGHTMARES. as a tiny joke i actually wanted to write him showing up to the date in it lol but that's too brutal it pains me

; aritsu's dump about akaashi nearly brought me to tears sorry i'm so hopelessly in love with this man (he's a bunch of pixels)

[shoyosluver]

cantaloupe island

masterlist

chapter 4- tea for two

atsumu leans against the front entrance to the diner. it’s dark out, and the neon lights illuminate against his face. the blue glow casts a light over his blonde hair. he checks the time on his phone, 7:59. he can see through the window of the diner that it’s packed full. with one minute to spare, you show up. as you step closer to him the blue light envelopes you along with him. ”hey.” you say as he pushes away from the wall.

“hi. so, i assume you dragged me here for jazz?” he asks. you laugh.

“you assumed right. i’m surprised you even showed up if you knew, since you hate jazz so much.”

he doesn’t answer, but blushes slightly. the light masks it though. atsumu pulls open the door, stepping aside as you walk in front of him.

“i’ve got us a table saved. my friend works here.” you say, pushing through the crowd. as you walk, you grab hold of atsumus arm, dragging him to a small table right in front of a small makeshift stage. a small jazz group is onstage. atsumu recognizes akaashi, he stands in the back, tuning a double bass. he looks up from his instrument as you wave at him, smiling.

the two of you sit down at your seats, they are pushed closer together than a usual restaurant set up, making sure that all seats can see the group. everyone shoved into the restaurant seems to know each other, and atsumu can’t help but feel a bit left out. the feeling doesn’t last for long, because you are quickly wrapping up the conversation with whoever you were talking to and turning to him.

“i’ve made it my goal to convince you to like jazz.” you say, staring intensely into his eyes. he feels like he’s being looked through.

“jeez, are you obsessed with me or something?” the joke delivery comes out a bit awkward. you don’t laugh, but he appreciates the slight smile that cracks through your serious appearance.

“i’m obsessed with making you appreciate the greatest form of music. you just need to agree to be open to it.” ”it sounds like i’m agreeing to sell the rights to my life.”

you don’t react, you simply look at him more pointedly.

“alright, i’ll trust you.”

at his words you smile wide, laugh, and turn to the stage. as the music starts, you whisper quietly to atsumu. ”this is one of akaashis other groups, they don’t play together often, but when they do it’s basically angelic.” as you watch the band play, atsumu watches you.

he appreciates the way you barely blink, eyes flittering around to each different musician in the group. the smile on your face and the light in your eyes. the way you love jazz makes him want to love it even more, but then he hears the music. he could appreciate the music at onigiri miya, when you were on piano.

“you are a lot better than this piano player.” he whispers in your ear.

you laugh quietly and swat his leg under the table.

“so rude.” you whisper back. ”you’re the one laughing. you know it’s true.”

you roll your eyes at him, and turn your focus back to the music.

as the band finishes up, you stand and cheer, clapping your hands together quickly. atsumu follows suit, clapping along with you, your hips bumping into each other.

as you leave the diner, you turn to him. ”so….? have you changed your mind?”

he has been convinced. the music was good. it was great the first time you played it too. jazz is beautiful, and so are you. is it really that wrong if he continues to pretend to hate it to spend more time with you? no. just a few more times spent together, and then he can admit he likes it.

“nah, still not my favorite.” he says, not looking directly at you.

you groan.

“ugh. fine. come by my apartment tomorrow, you can sit in on some of my lessons.” you say, typing the address into your messages.

“i’m totally determined to change your mind. see ya tomorrow miya.” you say with a smile, as you part ways.

a/n: hi friends, i'm back!!! sorry school been kicking my BUTT!!! but i'm back!

taglist: @hyenagoated @yuminako @giocriedpower @lilchubbyyy @sagejin

@oshygoshy @sereniteav @jojo23allegra @atsumuenthusiast @mikauraurr

@garfieldissocool @savemebrazilhinata @osakis-gf @acowboykisser @zumicho

@nbcvs @mylahrins @19calicos @wyrcan @chloiyoomi

@causenessus @diorzs @loverlunaire @s1ckntw1st3d @reignsaway

@nobodybutnnoorr @girlkissersco

[shoyosluver]

where you don't see me : miya osamu

you've known osamu for a long time and neither of you can stand to be where you can't be seen by the other.

status: coming soon

tags/warnings: tennisplayer!reader x musician!osamu, friends (🤨) to lovers, pre summer olympics in japan (please just pretend the timeline works i literally cannot think about the times and dates, it is in fact too much work), two stupid yearners, two idiots, probably inaccurate depictions of tennis, kys/kms jokes, self deprecation, poor coping mechanisms, miscommunication trope, ok more like little to no communication trope, warnings will be at the top of each part :).

introductions real ball enjoyers / dynamically dysfunctional

prologue

[shoyosluver]

letter to theo by vincent van gogh

[shoyosluver]

PROJECT PARTER HCS (he wants you so bad) haikyuu

ft: aran, kita, atsumu, osamu, suna

ATSUMU:

HES TRYING!!! but is it successful? (no)

literally cannot shut up the entire time you two meet up but it's ok because he's funny

"hey you wanna see pictures of my teammates" "yeah sure" he pulls out a blurry .5 of suna's nostrils

offers you protein bars and osamus leftovers as snacks

compliments you on literally everything

you wrote two words? he starts cheering and clapping his hands like you're shakespeare presenting a new play

loves pretending to be your strict teacher whenever commenting on your work

makes up for his lack of preparation by making you laugh and flustered

"i think you can add a little more to this part" "you look so sexy calling me dumb"

if you two meet up at a cafe he ALWAYS!!! pays for you

started off as a mistake because he asked you for your order in front of the barista

but he thought for a moment and decided you're worth an extra $5 out of his wallet

always loses his pencils but has dozens of erasers?????

SWEARS by wooden pencils. he sees a mechanical pencil and jumps 5 feet into the air and starts screaming

last few days of the project he looks constipated every time you two are together

"do you need a diaper" "I WANT YOU"

you accept his confession because you unfortunately like him back and because you want a good grade

also because you don't want him pooping his pants

ARAN:

the sweetest!!

always asks how you're doing before pulling out his notes

digital note taker 100%

loves loves loves writing with erasable pen and only uses pencils for exams

is a "let's work on everything together" kinds guy

he says it's to make sure there aren't any disagreements in content and aesthetic (he just wants to talk to you)

if you guys aren't at your house, always offers to walk you back!!!

great academically but if you're making a poster or slideshow do NOT let him decorate it... pls watch out

"does this look good!" "i'm gonna hold your hand when i tell you this..." "omg you want to hold my hand 😍"

starts giggling to himself in his head whenever you guys accidentally touch

you catch him staring at you one day and you don't know what to say so you just stare back

he thinks its so romantic

you're just confused but go along with it

after presentations you think you guys are gonna go back to being friendly classmates but he finds you after class and asks you out :)

KITA:

ACADEMIC WEAPON TEACHERS FAV EVERYONE LOVES HIM

"do you want to read my notes?" he pulls out 5 notebooks with everything color coordinated, sticky tabs, perfect handwriting, and factually correct

he can sit and work for 5 hours straight and still somehow have perfect posture

first time you asked him for help on something you were about to piss yourself because you thought he would call you stupid and send you to hell

he gave you a small smile and started walking you through it with an unmatched level of patience

that was the moment you folded and had to physically restrain yourself from grabbing his cheeks and kissing his face

always offers you tea when you come over and brings out a small tray of snacks

"are you comfortable? do you need any help?"

is suuuuper meticulous but kind with his 739273 different corrections

he swears by the sandwich method of compliment-critique-compliment

"your analysis is amazing in this section but i think you can expand a little bit after because..."

you're the one who confessed first because you thought you would explode from cuteness aggression if you didn't

and also because you thought even if he did reject you, he'd do it in the most painless way

was super happy and bursted into a bright red face but shy smile!!

still told you to go back to the assignment though...

SUNA:

menace i hate him (no i don't)

literally doesn't understand anything that's going on and probably doesn't process what you're saying at first

realizes you're serious about this assignment and forces himself to lock in

asks a BUNCH of questions and jots them down on a google doc

loves to make random conversation when you two are working

actually insane gossiper

nosiest birch you know

allergic to minding his own business that mf has shit on everyone

are you slightly scared of what he has on you? yes. do you still want to hear everything he knows? yes

"i'm taking this info from page 175 of the textbook" "got it, but did you hear that kato is trying to get with his exs best friend??"

leaves notes on your project that are both unserious and encouraging

"omg u are literally einstein"

folds origami when bored

will give you paper cranes, frogs, foxes, and cats whenever you see each other

you discovered that there's small doodles in the posts it's he uses to make them

one day there's your name and his surrounded by hearts like the corny mf he is

confronted him and it and he was just like "oh you found that? well, do you want to go out with me?"

he was NOT SLICK with the way he skipped home and whistled to himself that day after you said yes

OSAMU:

HES TRYING HIS BEST!!! (pt. 2)

can only meet up after school because of volleyball so he offers to cook for you before starting to work

takes notes in class but doesn't understand half the stuff he jots down

writes actual bullshit but half a page in decides to abandon his pride and ask you for help

leans in a little too close whenever listening to what you're saying

tries to make sure your knees are touching and that it's all an accident when your fingers brush (he prepared each scenario in his head before sleeping the night before)

down bad LOSER

spends his time doing his portion of the project while sneaking glances at you

doesn't know how to decorate presentations for the life of him so he is on doodle duty

gives surprisingly good suggestions and takes your corrections to heart

one of the best project partners because of how willing he is to learn and contribute!!! (also because he wants to impress you)

talks shit about his brother to you

atsumu has walked in while osamu was telling you an embarrassing story

they start fighting

osamu gets super embarrassed when you laugh at him

then gets overly confident when you tell him you were rooting for him

will not stop dumb smiling whenever he sees you after that

asks you out after the project is turned in with his hands in his pockets with how they're shaking so much

[shoyosluver]

room for you -- oikawa t.

synopsis :: you and tooru oikawa have a history. you're known each other for over a decade. as he outgrew sendai, you got left behind while he took leaps and bounds forward, moving to argentina. when you're already a university student, the two of you end up getting back in touch. 

wc :: 1936.ᐟ

gn!reader x oikawa tooru (2nd person)

notes//cw :: named after and inspired by 'room for you' by grentperez + lyn lapid,, im so projecting onto the reader like they are literally me,, fic follows you from elementary -> junior high -> high school -> university (just in little snippets, nothing too long!!),, the school system in this is some kind of japanese school system mixed with the american school system,, kinda hurt/comfort(?) im not even sure if this qualifies actually,, fluffy end <3

a playground. it's filled to the brim with little kids, hanging from the monkey bars and sliding headfirst down the slide. yet here you are, sitting on the sidelines, cross-legged on the sidewalk as you twirl a piece of sidewalk chalk in your little hands. you're alone- till you're not. the sound of quick, loud steps, followed by a final huff, draws you out of your distracted state. the smallest gust of wind blows your hair away from your face as someone drops to the ground to sit next to you.

"heya, i'm tooru. why're you all alone? whatcha doing?" his eyes dart all over your face excitedly. it doesn't seem like he minds the fact that you didn't answer his questions. he finally glances down at the sidewalk below him and is absolutely fascinated with your chalk drawings. he looks at both you and your drawings with childlike wonder. you can't help but wonder why he came up to you, but you're glad that he did.

that was 14 years ago.

a full cafeteria sits in front of you, tables shoved full with kids. it's loud and overstimulating to be there, especially when you have nowhere to be sitting. junior high students rowdily chatter as they mow through their lunches and head outside to play. it's almost as if you're watching a movie play out in front of you as people keep moving about the cafeteria- until you hear a voice call out for you, pulling you out of your daze.

"hey!! over here!" tooru calls out, waving you over to his lunch table. he has a wide grin on his face as he beckons you over. when you get over to the table, he casually slings an arm over your shoulder and pulls you to sit down at the table with him and his friends. maybe junior high wasn't going to be so bad, after all. now you had a friend group, no?

"you fit right in!" tooru comments, nudging you as he laughs. truth be told, it's relieving to hear him say that. you could get used to this.

that was 7 years ago.

aoba johsai's gym. tooru's first high school volleyball match is going on right in front of you. it's amazing, the way that his serves spin across the net with such force. he plays with such agility and honed skill, and it leaves you in awe. the game wraps up quickly- practically in the blink of an eye. when he runs off of the court, you're the first person he comes up to. he jogs to you happily, beaming with excitement.

"how'd i do? did you see all my serves??" he asks, looking at you expectantly. he's very proud of how the game went.

"you did great!" you reply back, just as excited as he is. 

after the gym is cleaned up, you accompany the team to a nearby restaurant for a celebratory dinner. it's a walk, with the silence being filled by tooru and hajime's endless banter. this is comfortable. everything feels right, in this moment. as you walk in silence, listening in on hajime and oikawa's latest disagreement, you can't help but reflect on what you saw at the game. tooru was already playing so well. was it wrong to feel like you were getting left behind? to fear that he would leave you behind sooner or later? 

that was 5 years ago.

seijoh's auditorium. it's now filled with rows of students, ranging from 1st to 3rd years. it's your- it's all of the 3rd years' ending credits. it's all happening too fast. as you hear your name called out, it echos and rings through the auditorium. you automatically fall out of the line of students, and you receive your diploma, bowing to the principal and thanking him. then, you quickly head back to your spot in line. this was really it. it was weird, but it didn't make you feel any certain way. that was, until you heard the principal call out another name.

"oikawa tooru." you pause. all of a sudden, your heart ached. it was truly sinking in, how momentous of an occasion this was, whether it was for better or for worse. as tooru made his way to the front of the auditorium, you found your eyes gravitated to him as he walked. he glanced towards you and flashed a brief smile. he walked up to the principal, receiving his diploma with a bow and a "thank you." this was actually happening. it wasn't something incomprehensible that you would always be working towards. you had truly completed high school, and that was it. you could feel your heart twisting in your chest as he walked back to his spot in line, waving his diploma at you for a moment and grinning. you muster a smile back to him. 

you get a bad feeling about this. what if this is it? what if you never see each other again after this? of course, tooru isn't some mindreader, though. he has no idea you're feeling that way- he's completely clueless. you're probably just getting into your head about it, though. of course you guys would see one another, again. after all, the two of you had plans to go to the same university, anyway.

that was 3 years ago.

a phone is being held in front of your face. argentina national team, it says on the screen. is this some kind of joke? what about all the plans you had made with him? he's definitely joking... but his face betrays that idea. he looks dead serious about this, but at the sane time, he looks so excited. that means you have to be happy for them, no matter how much you feel like going home to process the grief you're now going through.

"oh, wow..." you manage to choke out. "argentina." where even is that? it's sure as hell not close. 

"yeah!" he says excitedly. "isn't that cool?" it's like he's forgotten about all the plans the two of you had made. how disappointing.

you nod slightly, mustering up a happy reply. it sounds forced. "yeah, it's super cool! when are you leaving, then?"

"umm... in a week! and we can stay in touch for sure! i'll message you as soon as i land, and then we can call at night!" he says, shutting off his phone and pocketing it as he looks at you, his ever-excited face still apparent. you need to match his energy- you wouldn't want to ruin the excitement of this moment for him, of course.

"totally!" you reply, smiling back at him. you're excited for him, but admittedly, you felt a little worried over being left behind. what would happen from here?

that was 1 year ago.

after tooru left for argentina, he stayed true to his promise. he texted you once he landed, and he called you every night- for a while at least. then the calls started coming less...

and less...

and less...

and less...

till they altogether stopped.

it only took 2 months for the calls to stop coming. not to mention, when you'd try to call, he'd answer, but he would only say he's busy and would talk to you later. you would be lying if you said you didn't get what could have caused it, though. for one thing, he's now committed to a national level volleyball team. the two of you are also 12 hours apart, time wise. it really does make sense why the calls stopped, but you just can't wrap your head around it. the two of you have been friends since 1st grade, so how could your relationship be falling apart so easily?

you missed him- you missed talking to him, too.

that was 10 months ago.

now, you sit in your university dorm, watching the computer screen in front of you as it plays a live volleyball game: argentina vs. japan. there were a couple familiar faces- amongst them, of course, being tooru. it felt weird, seeing him like this. it was like you had never known each other, seeing the game from here.

you wonder how he is. he was so enamored with the idea of being a part of a national team. he truly put in an effort to become as good as he is now. you miss him.  you resent him for leaving you behind. hopefully, he's okay, though. you still care about him.

the volleyball game comes to a close after long struggle, with japan coming out on top. hours pass as you sit in your dorm room, wasting time with multiple activities. the day feels so slow.

bzzt—

your phone rings, but quickly stops. you pick up your phone and check where the call was from. it was from tooru, and it was followed by a text that read, "oops sorry." you text back a "you're fine dw" and then put down your phone with a sigh, only for your phone to buzz again. tooru texts you again, asking how you are. 

soon enough, a conversation starts as the two of you continue to text back and forth. tooru calls you, explaining, "i figured if we were gonna continue talking... we should just call, right?" he pauses for a moment. "ah- and i'm sorry.. for not talking to you for a while. i don't have any excuse... i just stopped."

your heart twists in your chest. "...it's fine, don't worry. i get it. you're busy." you reply, picking at the sides of your phone case. it hurt to know he didn't even have a reason to stop talking to you,

"no... seriously. i'm sorry." tooru continues, "it won't happen again. i've missed you a lot."

"i missed you too," you reply simply. "i just wish you were still here, y'know? ...i saw your game against japan. you guys did really good. your serves have improved since high school, tooru," you add, feeling slightly better.

"yeah, i've been missing sendai, seriously." he sighs. "and why the hell did you not tell me they tore down the old house?" he groans. "our precious meet up spot..."

you laugh softly. "i figured it would only make you upset. but hey, we can make a new meet up spot. that old house was so school days," you reply, a joking lilt in your voice.

"yeah, you're right," he replies, laughing. "sorry, i won't have time to meet up this time, though. i'll make time next time i'm here visiting, promise."

you smile slightly, still picking at the sides of your phone case. "alright, that sounds good."

"and... hey," he says, his voice softer.

"hm?" 

"you know i'll always make time for you, right? there's always room for you," he says, your name following. it rolls off his tongue effortlessly. you've always adored the way he says your name. it felt comforting.

his words make you freeze up for a moment as you process what he just told you. "...thanks, tooru. i hope you know i will too. there's always room for you," you echo, a smile gracing your features as you realize- maybe your relationship didn't fall apart at all. after all, the relationships that have stood the test of time are usually the strongest, no? distance is just another obstacle for the two of you to overcome together.

while you two may not be fortunate enough to live near one another, neither of you will let physical distance be the reason your relationship fails. the two of you will always have room for each other inside of your hearts.

notes ::

₊ ⊹ guys im gonna be honest w u i heavily fw this fic

₊ ⊹ i hope u guys feel the same way <3

₊ ⊹ I WAS SO CLOSE TO 2K WORDS ON THIS DAMN IT

₊ ⊹ i feel like i get all my fic plot ideas from music i listen to... pls forgive me for that i can't help it 

₊ ⊹ idk what this fic genre would be classified as? but i really enjoyed writing it

₊ ⊹ i was on a plane when i wrote this i was SO locked in

₊ ⊹ i also wrote some of this in a car and i got so sick... that was not demure!!!

₊ ⊹ oh and not proofread are we surprised! let me know if u find any glaring grammar or spelling mistakes PLEASE

₊ ⊹ i'm so tired it's like 3 something itm in my timezone... if u see formatting issues thats why probably??? idk my vision is blurry rn

₊ ⊹ any other works can be found on my masterlist!

🏷️ (sorry for the random tags.. i just really really like this one </3) :: @bokukos ,, @iiwaijime ,, @hatsukeii ,, @causenessus ,, @kuroppiii <3

[shoyosluver]

MY WIFE !! — A. MIYA

SAKUSA VER. || USHIJIMA VER.

IWAIZUMI VER. || AKAASHI VER.

cw; fem reader, swearing, cute cute fluff, pet names ewww, not proofread

wc; 476

in which he calls you his wife.

you're still half asleep when atsumu climbs into bed, kicking the blanket away to nestle into your side. shit. you'd been planning to watch his latest interview live, but apparently you'd failed to stay awake until then. he slides one hand under your loose shirt — his shirt, come to think of it — to hold your waist, and the other comes up to cradle your face. "missed ya, sweets."

"hey," you murmur, letting him angle your head and sponge kisses all over your face. your phone buzzes, but you ignore it in favour of your boyfriend and his addictive attention.

he kisses you again, this time with a smile. "hey, angel."

"sorry, didn't get to watch the interview." one of your hands tangles into his hair as he presses his lips to yours, brief and gentle, before pulling back.

"good, don't then."

you open your eyes. "baby, what?"

"nothing, nothing. just... don't."

your phone vibrates again insistently, and then it clicks. "'tsumu, what'd you do?"

you're reaching over to your phone before he can stop you, unlocking it only to be greeted by at least four hundred notifications from friends, family, and even some people you don't know.

Y/N, YOU'RE MARRIED? [your best friend]

WHYD TSUMU CALL YOU HIS WIFE ON LIVE TV [osamu]

DID I MISS A WEDDING I DIDN'T RIGHT [hinata]

you turn to him. "and what do you have to say about all this?"

despite your calm demeanour, your heart is trying to claw its way out of your chest, and your plans are sweating more than they ever have before. you look down at atsumu, who now has his arms around your middle and his head on your chest. he pouts at you, best puppy eyes equipped. "lemme explain! it was a mistake, cus i was so excited to propose t'ya that i forgot we weren't married! so—"

a strangled little gasp escapes from your throat. the two of you have talked about this before, but you didn't expect that he'd even think of asking this fast. yes, yes, yes, your heart sings. that's when you notice the scandalised expression on atsumu's face as he bolts upright.

"shit, you weren't supposed to hear that," he says. "i'm sorry, i really—"

you cut him off with a kiss, noticing the way he relaxes visibly as it progresses, and when you finally pull away, he blinks at you with a dopey grin — all of the tension from before has disappeared.

"atsumu."

"yeah?"

"i don't care how or when you propose to me, i'll always say yes."

"shit, babe," he sniffles. "don't say that!"

"i'm not joking," you tell him gently. it's a hint, a yes if he wants to take it. "really."

"then will you?"

"will i what?"

"you know."

"oh my god, ask me properly the second time, at least!"

so he does.

a multi part fic series!! taglist is open. updates will be slow!! uhhh comment who u wanna see in the series and i might juuuust yk!! i hate atsumu he plagues my brain ew

tags!! @smiithys

[shoyosluver]

-ˋˏ✄┈ 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 : 008

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ CONVENIENCE STORE,

INCONVENIENT ENCOUNTER ❜ ┊

— akaashi x f!oc!reader

◦ ‘ it seems that if i reach out my hand

i can reach you

but you’re still about a meter further ahead ’

🔊 :: track eight, sympathy

note: i realised that links for the song will take you to spotify and only play a small part of it, for the full version, you can search it up to listen on spotify or other music platforms to enhance the reading experience!

CW ; written in third person, a small text portion, tiny flashback into Aritsu's childhood, misunderstandings, a little angsty, shinsei tomoha is bad at communicating, swearing, little bit of hurt/comfort, friendzone

WC ; 6.9k

icymi!! find the reprise masterlist here

Numbness spread itself into every living cell in Aritsu’s body, reigning control over each part like a whirlpool that had opened up in the ocean and sucked everything into its swirling vortex of doom.

It numbed the burning ache that was supposed to be present in her legs. She could barely even feel the slightest of the wind pushing against her body as she tore through the neighbourhood, faintly register her shoulders heaving up and down wildly, lungs crying out for air.

It numbed the sensation of tears prickling at her eyes, distorting her vision and warping the countless buildings she sprinted blindly past.

It numbed her ire and spatial awareness, too. The slapping of her sports bag against her thigh should annoy her - if it were the normal circumstances and she was in the right frame of mind.

Aritsu had no idea how many people she had pushed past in her haste to get home. However, she lacked time and room in her head to ponder how many grumbles or gasps sounded after her, or the trailing of annoyed glares following her retreating figure down the street.

All of it caved to the ravenous rage that boiled within her, gradually crawling its way to the tip of her tongue. Coating it with a curt and explosive bitterness, terror struck her heart at opening her mouth to speak. For the words that she would sheathe were not for the weak hearted.

One thing the numbness failed to dominate was the unbridled, intense emotions that roared louder with each shortening distance she covered to get home.

Narumi's scathing remarks poked her like a stick at her side insistently. It should not have affected Aritsu as much, given that such harsh verbal remarks were not new to her, but combined with the element of having ruined someone else's life made it hurt on a remarkable degree.

Especially when that someone didn't deserve it.

The fact that Aritsu was unaware of such made her want to rot in hell for her ignorance.

If there was anything Aritsu hated the most, it was being left in the dark about an important matter that played a part in her life. Despite this, Shinsei had decided that an issue as pressing as this was not worth telling her. Better yet, after his controversial win where he sold out his friend, he ruminated not in guilt but revelled in pride.

And because she was still a naive girl who thought her father to be an amazing role model, eleven year old Aritsu did not doubt his conniving win and celebrated along with him.

She was waiting for him before their doorstep, perched on the steps leading to their open doorway with her knees hugged to her chest.

Two butterflies danced before her, engaging in a waltz around daises that sprouted amongst the lush green grass where her feet were dipped in. Occasionally, they would rest the beating of their wings upon a toe before flitting back into the air.

This happening silently passed right over Aritsu's consciousness. She did not feel the ticklish brush of their wings flapping against her skin when they landed on her toes, nor the abandonment of their touch when they flew away.

Nothing could break the girl's concentration from watching the people that passed their gate. Every now and then she would perk up over a set of footsteps coming their way, then deflate back into her arms when they did not stop by the gate.

Over the past hour, that had been what she was doing. Over and over again, a tedious charade that the eager hope in Aritsu refused to give up upon.

She was beginning to lose count of time the longer the wait stretched on, really. Sometime in between, her mother, Shiori, had popped out for a while to hand her a cup of freshly blended watermelon juice - her favourite - and stood by her side in silence until she finished the glass.

"You can wait inside, Aritsu." Shiori said as she took over Aritsu's glass when she was done, taking note of the way her daughter's gaze remained fixated to the sight beyond their gates.

She should. Her mother's suggestion was the most logical. There was no reason for one to lounge outside for someone who was not going to come back until the next hour or so, in the scorching hot sun of a weekend. But Aritsu shook her head in response, turning down Shiori's kind reminder. While she couldn't deny that waiting in the comfort of her own home was attractive, the anticipation that nibbled into her patience was overpowering - so much that she could forsake everything else.

That was probably half an hour ago. Shiori had lingered quietly by Aritsu's side for a few minutes before finally retreating into the house, leaving Aritsu to nurse her unbearable exhilaration alone.

Her heart sank with each growing second she waited, not catching sight of the person she wanted to see. A man, but no tousled auburn middle part. Cream white button up, but so were the top few. No black king kong duffel bag resting lazily on one shoulder, a laid-back charm to his strides.

A tut came to her lips. Drooping over herself like a wilted flower, Aritsu's chin sank lower into her arms. Maybe this was all for naught - she should learn to quell her excitement and learn not to get carried away, like Shiori always reminded her of.

Sighing, Aritsu pouted. She couldn't help it. After all, her eccentricity had came from no one other than her-

A jangle of keys at the front gate rattled her out of her thoughts. Looking up, Aritsu's face brightened spotting the crocheted hibiscus keychain dangling from the keyring. The meticulousness presented in the masterfully sewn petals were the familiar work of her mother's that she would recognise anywhere - which could indicate the arrival of a sole presence.

"Shinsei!" Aritsu cried out jovially, leaping up to her feet.

At the sight of his daughter dashing towards him, stretching out her arms for an embrace, a delighted smile split across Shinsei's face. Obliging to the elation dancing within her amber eyes at his arrival, he dipped down to one knee and opened up his arms in time to let her stumble into them.

Aritsu wrapped her arms tightly around him, squeezing the life out of her father. A gentle warmth bloomed in her chest hearing his breathy chuckles, feeling his hand come down upon her hair and ruffle it.

"Ah, Su. Did you wait out here all morning for me?" A doting cheekiness sparkled within his eyes as Aritsu nodded enthusiastically. "Aw. I'm sorry for making you suffer an unwanted suntan. Come on, let's go in. I wouldn't want to ruin your precious complexion any longer."

Aritsu let his big fingers wrap around hers and lead her into the cooling shade of the house. She entered first, followed by Shinsei, who as always, kicked his shoes off recklessly by the door.

"Leave it, Su." Shinsei told her when she bent down to correct their alignment, shaking her hand in his. "I'll do it later. For now, I have something more important to do. I've got to kiss my wife who I haven't seen in god knows how long. Let's go."

Rising to her feet, she trailed after her father whom happily marched through the hallways, seeming to have a sixth sense for knowing where Shiori would be. They found her in the kitchen, onyx black hair pulled back into a loose bun secured with a claw clip, an arm resting on her hip, attentively cutting a blood orange.

Aritsu pulled her hand away from her father before he released it, knowing all too well what he was about to do next. "My love, what are you cutting with such perfect concentration?" Shinsei asked, sliding an arm around Shiori's waist and pecking her cheek.

"See for yourself." she answered plainly, immune to his displays of affection.

"Ah, 'Iori. Do you have to be so cold? I just got back, you know." Shinsei sighed, pulling her closer and nuzzling his face into her hair. He pulled away a second later, eyes widening in horror. "Did you change your shampoo?"

Shiori feigned ignorance towards her husband's alarm. "That's what you get for asking a stupid question."

"What?" Shinsei exclaimed, hands flying up to cup Shiori's cheek, prying her gaze away from the blood oranges to land on his. "I loved the previous one! It was bubblegum scented!"

"Let me go, Shin', or you'll make me cut myself slicing those oranges."

Aritsu had walked over to the kitchen counter during their tiny bickering, which was much one sided. Stealing a sliced blood orange off the chopping board, she popped it into her mouth and hummed in contentment at the sweet tangy taste that enveloped her tongue. Her actions were not so stealthy, though, earning a glance from Shiori.

Setting down the knife, Shiori gently detached her husband's hands to her face by distracting him with a kiss to his nose. Expertly, she nudged him towards Aritsu. Shiori had noticed the way Aritsu had not left their side, seeming to be expectantly waiting for some news that she wanted Shinsei to deliver.

Savouring the opportunity, Aritsu blurted out the burning question she had been holding back since Shinsei's arrival. "How was your match?"

It took her father a few seconds to snap out of his dreamy trance. "Oh, yeah." he shrugged. "It was tough match since we had some complications we had to deal with along the way, but we managed to overcome them and achieve our well deserved victory."

The televised announcement blared in her memory, a news report she didn't quite understand but saw her father in it along with other members of his team. Faces she recognised because he would invite them over to dinner once in a while. Cocking her head, she wondered if they had any relation to the complications he had brought up.

"Is it about your teammates?"

Shinsei went quiet for a moment, eyebrows shooting up in faint surprise. Bending down on his knees, he lowered himself to his daughter's height and rested a hand on her shoulder, eyes softening despite the wry smile hanging on his lips.

"Yes. But it's nothing much your father can't handle." The look on his face melted away easily into a confident grin. "Hey, want to hear about some super awesome moves I pulled during the match?"

That did the trick. In an instant, the news article fell out of Aritsu's head, replaced by the joys of learning about Shinsei's matches she never got to watch personally because they were held overseas. Excitedly, she begged him to tell eagerly, clinging on to his every word when he did so enthusiastically.

So easily she had forgotten, just like the misaligned shoes Shinsei left by their doorstep until the next morning.

It was her turn to hurl her shoes by the doorstep marching into the house, too overwhelmed to care any less about organisation. Slamming every door she passed open, an agitated impatience gutted her at the missing figure she was searching fervently for like how she had been waiting for him at the doorstep five years ago - though this time the reasons and situations were drastically different.

Gritting her teeth, she kicked open the door to the study room which she knew he would be residing within. A frustrated yell expelled from her lips as the door caved to her simmering violence, "Shinsei!"

His head whipped to her side with a jolt, scooping up the ball he had been bouncing against the wall in his palms. Bewilderment was etched into his face, looking to the door that had been flung open, before panning back to Aritsu standing at his doorway.

Ragged pants shook her shoulders from the adrenaline driven run she had made the way home. Aritsu pounded a weak fist against the door frame, hunching to her knees to catch her breath, feeling the adrenaline rush seep out with each heavy exhale.

Yet some of it staggered in her veins, imbued into the spidery network, keeping her lips moving.

"You bastard," A shuddering inhale. "You lied to me."

Slowly, she lifted her head to stare at him under her lashes. Shinsei Tomoha remained lounged in his swivelling armchair, meeting her hate-filled gaze with unblinking icy blue eyes.

It iced over her fury to note the subtle crease in his brows. Good. She wanted him to be concerned about what he had done. Have his brain to race in a panic, to think through the thousand possibilities and use it to reflect on his disdainful, devil may care attitude for once.

She wanted her words to hurt, to eradicate the carefree smile he had on his face when telling her about the match five years ago. Not giving a shit about whether or not he had torn an entire family's life to pieces.

The twitch of satisfaction was gone in a snap when the concern weaved in his brows was replaced by a beguiling smile. That infuriating smile that made her blood boil, clenched her hands to the doorframe as he twirled that stupid mikasa ball on one finger. "Now now, Su, let's not hurl the foul language around and first start with a hello, perhaps-"

Aritsu bristled at his disarming voice, speaking to her as though he were consoling a petulant child. This fucker, he was socially blind. It astounded her at how he failed to read her correctly in every solemn moment they shared, driving her insane with his nonchalance. As if everything could be solved if you just flashed somebody a smile and a joke, huh? You just couldn't care any less about how the people around you felt, huh? Nothing mattered if you could sweep your daughter's feelings and disregard them like dust under the carpet for your own self entitlement-

"Shut the hell up and listen to me!"

The words at Shinsei's lips died instantaneously, fading along his smile. Losing the momentum on the tip of his finger, the ball dropped to the floor and rolled to a stop by Aritsu's feet.

"It doesn't matter to you, does it? Nothing in this world does except yourself. It's all you, your world, seated in your throne with your head held high above a pile of bloody corpses. Be it friends nor those who were close to you, they make for perfect qualifications to hang on your walls." she spat out.

Catching onto the venomous anger rumbling in her voice, Shinsei's face twisted into blank shock. It was disconcerting how much the sight pleased her and spited her both at the same time. She was in too deep to stop - too overcome to pause amidst her angry ramblings. Like a bullet already fired into the air, she had spilled her searing displeasure onto him, scorching him with her blunt words.

"Just like how Watanabe Kaito was a mere decoration on your ascent to fame."

His eyes visibly widened at the mention of his ex-teammate, flinching slightly. "Su," he warned, voice low. "You do not understand."

"No, I understand, father." Aritsu crossed the room, closing the distance between them in brief strides. "There's no way I am unable to understand when I've been living with you in the sixteen years of my life, when I am your flesh and blood."

The admission of their similarities stung her. Her declarations faltered for a moment, but she dismissed the ache with a firm shake of her head.

Ignoring the stab of her words cutting into her throat, she pressed on with a cold laugh. "They say it all the time. We Tomohas, we're the same. We're egoistic. In the eyes of the crowd, we're supernovas that blind the eyes of those that stare - but we will disintegrate the ones around us and tear them down. It doesn't matter who I am, as long as I am one. I am forever tied to you, to live out your fate."

Her cold laughter splinters, voice crackling. Aritsu falls to the floor with a drop of her shoulders. A desperate pointlessness begins to dawn upon her, engulfing the turbulent emotions and crushing their spiky edges into a bumpy plane of brittle glass.

The hardness of the floor that hits her knees evokes a sense of clarity that clears the noise in her head. The dull truth that there is no point to spewing all these sets in, leaving her numb. Making all those comments will not take away the fact that remains of everything she had vented.

She could run her mouth on Shinsei, despise him for everything he had shoved to her stead, but she would ultimately bear the brunt of his ugly truths.

A hand touches her shoulder. Looking up, she meets the solemn purse of Shinsei's lips, finding him crouching before her. His face betrays no signs of soft weakness, unchanging except for the unreadable and calculating stare he pierces her with. His comfort cannot quite be called comfort - devoid of warmth and harsh words that he forces down her throat mercilessly, a matter of fact.

"That's just how it is to stand at the top. Many will try and tear you down, hate you for who you are, mock and ridicule till you're at wits' end. It all comes down to how much you let it affect you." he brushed back her hair, pushing the strands out of her eyes. "And as a Tomoha, don't let it get to you. Let them yap - tabloids, haters, the like - but they'll never be able to push you down where you stand, towering over them. Don't give them a chance to."

Aritsu bows her head, letting Shinsei pat her head in quiet. Finally, he stands.

"We're out of milk." he says, picking up his volleyball beside her kneeling figure. Tucking the ball under his arm, he ruffles her hair a last time before vacating the room with a parting suggestion.

"Take a breather by going out and getting some back."

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

Sending Aritsu out to the convenience store to get milk for the family was the second worst decision one could have ever made. The first being, of course, herself for agreeing to attend to Shinsei's request.

Perhaps she should have turned back when she first sensed that this trip was going to end in crippling disastrous financial decisions. Laziness had pushed her to continue on her way to the convenience store, still dressed in the attire she wore to volleyball practice, far too unbothered to change out of it despite how messy she appeared.

Now standing in front of the shelves flaunting all sorts of snacks - ranging from sweets, chocolates to freezers storing tubs of ice cream - her confidence that this was going to be a fuss free errand was wavering.

However, it was too late for regrets. Aritsu was too easily tempted by the appealing flavours promised on chip packagings, the realisation that she had not eaten anything since lunchtime kicking into her system. Volleyball practice had hollowed out her stomach, leaving a huge gaping hole in need of filling up.

Very quickly, what turned into an errand to grab milk for the family transformed into a shopping spree. The passing thought that she didn't have any money did cross her mind but failed to serve as a convincing argument to stop. Her hands simply moved faster than her brain could ponder her choices rationally, building her own snack haul as she checked out brand after brand, placing them into her own basket on impulse.

After rifling through the entire snack aisle, she decided that enough was enough. Her shopping basket was piling up, a mini empire in itself. With a huff, Aritsu peeled her eyes away from any lulling distractions and forced herself on the way to the payment counter.

Although her will proved to be short lived. Eventually, Aritsu's steps slowed to a halt, an internal debate chaining her to the ground in front of the ice cream aisle. Awkwardly, she froze in front of the row of freezers, staring wistfully at the tubs of ice cream illuminated by fluorescent lights lining the sides of the glass doors.

"Chocolate chip and cookie dough..." she muttered, plastering her hand onto the cool glass pane. Travelling lower, a yellow tag beckoned her attention. Printed across it was the price - or would have been the price, if not for the red strikethrough cutting across the bold black numerals. Highlighted in red, a discounted price jumped out to grab her eye above the original amount.

Aritsu lifted a hand to the handle located at the side of the freezer. Just as her fingers circled around the handle, a dull pang thudded in her head. Her voice of sensibility crept into the corner of her mind, urging her to pull back.

Shit, she couldn't keep getting tempted like this. Continuing to indulge mindlessly like this would only drive her to bankruptcy in the future when she had to take care of herself. Still, her reluctant hand remained glued to the handle. Akin to a magnetic pull, it denied her the self control to fight the insatiable desire she felt for a tub of ice cream.

Stressing over little things like this was not like her. In fact, it was only annoying her more than she had been when she left the house. This trip to the convenience store was for her to take a breather, not fuss over trivial matters such as these. She was here to put her mind off things, off the agitation that lurked in her heart at her father's vague response.

Aritsu wasn't the smartest at her academics, but when it came to observing a situation or people, she would consider herself to be rather skilled at that. It didn't take even a fool to notice Shinsei had dodged justifying why he had ruined the Watanabe family with his traitorous actions.

Her confrontation with her father was essentially useless. With how calmly he had handled the situation, despite managing to get a little shaken up, Shinsei most likely thought her outburst to be a teenage girl's temper tantrum.

Such a thought left a bitter taste of disappointment to well up in her mouth. She had not resolved anything at all, creating a gnawing dissatisfaction to build up in her mind. It was like solving a case and knowing who the culprit was, but you couldn't pinpoint the exact evidence to convict them as the main perpetrator of the crime.

Clicking her tongue, Aritsu tightened her grip on the handle and shoved the freezer door open.

Just for today. She convinced her guilty conscience as she swiped the tub of chocolate chip and cookie dough ice cream off the shelf and into her basket. Behind her, the door to the convenience store chimed.

Aritsu arranged the items in her basket, frowning upon the chaotic disorganisation. The conversation belonging to the group of friends that had just walked in drifted to her ears as she packed the aloe vera yoghurt drinks next to the fruit cakes.

"Ahh man, I'm starved!" a loud and sonorous voice boomed. "I put my all into practicing for cross court shots today during practice. I think I'm beginning to master it!"

The familiar phrase piqued Aritsu's interest. Hovering her hand over a bunch of red salmon and salt onigiris, she turned her body slightly to peer curiously at the group of friends.

A shelf of toiletries obstructed her view, a toilet brush blocking most of their faces. There were four of them, she could tell from their footsteps when they had walked in. Shifting slightly to the left to look through a gap between two toilet brushes, she glimpsed a flash of striped blue ties and grey jackets.

Her eyes widened in recognition. That uniform...they were from her school. As her gaze moved upwards, she studied the two faces she could see within the frame of the two toilet brushes.

It was easy to pick out which one had spoken earlier. Based off his enthusiastic mannerisms to which he engaged in the discussion they were having while checking out the magazine shelf by the entrance, it was the tall guy with the spiky salt and pepper hair. His appearance puzzled and fascinated her at the same time in a peculiar fashion. He bore strangely arched eyebrows that gave off an impression of his self assuredness, along with a pair of golden eyes.

Those eyes captivated Aritsu, trapping her into staring at them for a long minute. They held an uncanny resemblance to an owl's eyes, pupils dilated in wonder and seeming to glimmer with passion.

Next to him stood a girl that seemed to shrink next to his towering stature in comparison. Their obvious height difference made it difficult for Aritsu to spot her next to him, having to look twice to realise she was there as well. An insatiable hunger shone in her downturned brown eyes as she looked about the store, seeming to search for something in particular. With a perk of her head, she detached herself from the conversation silently, having found whatever she had in mind.

Aritsu watched the reddish brown haired girl make her way to the hot food section, before remembering her basket of items she had yet to pay for.

Turning the corner of the toiletries shelf, she backed out of the ice cream aisle with her head kept down. Setting down the last of the snacks to be organised - a packet of white peaches - she failed to avoid the obstacle in her way and bumped into someone.

Aritsu stumbled back apologetically, cheeks flushing at how she wasn't paying attention to her surroundings. Fortunately, the contents in the shopping basket did not spill out to the floor, since it was a light collision of her forehead to their back. Her head snapped up at once, apologies rushing to her lips.

Though as soon as the words had been spoken, they were briefly stolen away when the person whirled around to face her.

"My ba- Akaashi Keiji?!" she exclaimed, his full name tumbling out of her mouth at the shock that hit her. At the sight of his face she could recognise anywhere given how frequently it appeared in her daydreams, she was rendered to blinking dumbly and staring at him for a full minute, only jolting out of it when he spoke.

"Ritsu san." Akaashi looked just as surprised as she was, though his was more subtle than her outright gawping at him.

A surge of troubling considerations flooded her head the longer they stared at each other without saying anything. Suddenly, Aritsu grew painfully conscious of the greasiness of her hair, clumped together with dried sweat. Embarrassment seeped into her thinking about her rumpled dry fit shirt she was wearing right now, wondering if it stunk of an unpleasant body odour from training.

Right before her worries could escalate any further, a dirty blonde haired boy walked up to her. "Hey, did you drop this?" he looked up from the identity card in his hand to scrutinise her with his narrowed black eyes.

Her identity card! Something had flown out of her pocket during the collision after all. "Oh yeah, thanks, it's mine..."

Immediately, she took the card from his hand and pocketed it hurriedly. To her relief, the photo of her on the identity card was decent, even though the process to get the photo taken had been gruelling. Remind her to never let Shinsei take her photos again. It was torturous having him pester her to take countless shots because she looked like she was forced to take the picture at gunpoint. Which was not inaccurate either, since she did not take her picture out of her own will.

"Hold on a second!!"

Aritsu lifted her head just as the boy with the salt and pepper hair clamped his hands around her shoulders. A tingle of astonishment itched in her brain at his touch, bright golden eyes boring into hers.

Disbelief flashed upon Akaashi's face at this abrupt turn of events. "Bokuto san, wait..." he reached out to pull the other male back. His efforts were in vain, paling to Bokuto's intrigue, fixated on examining Aritsu's face intently.

"You're Shinsei Tomoha's daughter!" he said finally. The concept of personal space seemed extinct to him, too carried away by the joys of his own discovery. Oblivious, he leaned in closer to her, the tight grip of his fingers on Aritsu's shoulders restricting her from scooting back. "Aritsu Tomoha, is it? I heard you take after him in his amazing skill!"

"Ah? Yeah..." Aritsu responded without much thought, overwhelmed by his energetic fervour. "and you are?"

The male's lips pulled into a cheerful beam. For a moment, it felt like Aritsu had seen the sun rise from behind a sea of gloomy clouds, parting the shadows of the sky with its dazzling glory. "I'm Bokuto Koutaro, a second year spiker and ace of the Fukurodani boys volleyball team! Nice to meet you!"

After his introduction, he blinked, registering the hand placed on his arm by Akaashi. Curiosity filled his face as he let go of Aritsu's shoulders to address the query he had in mind.

"Hey Akaashi, You know her?" he brought up, drawing out Akaashi's name like a question. A string of interrogations flowed from the first, not giving the other male time to react. "How do you know one another? Are the both of you from the same class? Is she your girlfriend?"

As Bokuto dropped the last question, Aritsu choked on swallowing her own spit and begun to cough profusely. A wave of heat washed over her at the impossible preposition and she dared not look at Akaashi to check out what his expression was. She could feel him shoot a concerned glance her way, waving her hand in the air to dismiss his consideration.

On the contrary, Akaashi didn't react much to the comment. Retreating his hand from Bokuto's arm, he answered his raving enquiries in a calm manner. "Ritsu san is my desk partner, Bokuto san. We're from the same class. And no, she's just a friend."

Aritsu's coughs dissolved into a pacified silence.

"Oh, I thought-"

"Argh, come on you idiot." the dirty blonde haired boy grabbed Bokuto's arm with an exasperated scoff. "They're just friends. Let's go and join Yukie at the hot food section and get some oden. See you later, Akaashi."

With that, he dragged Bokuto away from standing in between Akaashi and Aritsu. "Eh, Konoha? What about Akaashi and..." "Don't you know how to read the room..." their bickering voices faded as the two of them disappeared among the shelves.

Well, this is awkward.

Clearing his throat, Akaashi shot Aritsu an apologetic glance, taking the initiative to break the ice. "Sorry about that. He can be a little overexcited at times."

Aritsu found herself nodding along to the statement, tightening her hold on her shopping basket that was beginning to make her arms feel sore clinging on to it. "I can see that..."

Her struggle to hold the shopping basket didn't escape Akaashi's attentive notice. "Do you need help?" he offered, gesturing to it.

"It's fine. The counter's just here." Aritsu reassured him, moving to the side to place the shopping basket on the checkout counter. In today's digitalised society, the convenience store no longer needed an attendant by the counter, manpower replaced by the advancement of technology.

Taking up the scanner, she scanned each item in the basket. Akaashi lingered by her side wordlessly, watching her drain the basket from its horde of snacks. With each item she added to the cart, the price rose - so did her doubts in being able to afford paying for the snack haul. Her pocket felt light, a stark contrast to the weight piling up on the counter. She hoped that it wasn't just a few measly yen notes she shoved in there rushing to get out of the house.

With her heart in her mouth, Aritsu darted a nervous glance to the total price tallied on the screen, dropping her gaze slowly down the long list to the final calculation stated at the end. If she had estimated correctly, the total amount should not exceed 2000 yen at most…

…3346 yen.

Holding back an internal groan at her severe miscalculation, Aritsu stuck her hand into her pocket. Doom bellowed in her head when she took up a handful of notes so thin and little they couldn’t even form a stack. Surely they were going to be enough, right? Only four 1000 yen notes were needed to make the cut. Powered on by delusion, she fished them out onto the counter.

What greeted her was a pitiful sight that sent her toppling back to reality, landing face first to the cold fact of her financial situation.

A 1000 yen note.

To dream of it being a stack of notes was incredulous. Aritsu gaped, dumbstruck at the single yen note - heck, it couldn’t even count as a few notes at all. No wonder her pocket felt as light as a feather, because she had been carrying nearly nothing with her at all.

Maybe it was really time to pay the psych ward a visit with how her delusions were reaching a new high, like Kyou had suggested.

Aritsu begin to pack the contents back into the shopping basket. Each item she placed back torched her fingertips with shame. She was halfway sorting through the pile when Akaashi's hand stopped her from reaching for a fruit cake.

Objections surfaced to her lips as she glimpsed him pulling out his wallet. "Wait, Akaashi, you don't have to..."

She held up both her hands in refusal when he pulled out two 1000 yen notes and some coins, stepping away from him. When it grew evident that her verbal protests were falling on deaf ears, she stuck both her hands into her pockets, defiantly rejecting the cash he held out for her to take.

"I told you, there's no need." she insisted, meeting his questioning gaze. "It's not important. I don't need to buy all of these today, I could come back tomorrow..."

Her words trailed off, mouth falling into a flabbergasted gasp when Akaashi merely sighed and stepped up to the counter himself. "Akaashi! I already said..."

Aritsu watched helplessly as he ignored her, scanning all her items by himself. Deciding to give up since at this point it felt like she was a toddler throwing a useless tantrum, she fell silent. Instead, she moved forward to hand him the goods that remained in the basket to scan.

It dawns on her while helping him unload the snacks in the basket that the slowly growing heap of snacks on the counter made her out to be a glutton. Scanning the contents in the basket now, she was baffled at the amount of duplicates she picked out - especially in the overabundance of Calbee chip packets. They made up a huge majority of the haul, like she had gotten a little too overexcited and robbed the convenience store clean of their entire stock.

As if following the same line of thought, Akaashi voiced this out beside her. "What are you buying so many snacks for, Ritsu san?" he inquired, voice free of judgement.

"A party at a friend's." Aritsu answered immediately, shooting out a lie she had come up with on the spot. Fearing to divulge more details that might lead to her lie falling apart, she diverted the subject smoothly. "How was your volleyball practice, Akaashi?"

"It went alright." Aritsu hands him an aloe vera yoghurt drink, to which he flips to the side of the squeeze pouch where the barcode sticker is stuck. "How did you know I was from the volleyball club?" he implored casually, dropping the drink into a plastic big containing the scanned food products.

Taken aback by the direct callout, the nervous panic that spikes through her causes her to lose her grip on a red salmon salt onigiri. She rushes to pick it up again, pushing it into his outstretched hand. Fortunately, his attention is on the screen detailed with the prices, missing out on her slip-up earlier.

"It was, well," Aritsu runs her tongue over her lips, strategising a quick comeback. Recounting Bokuto's words from when he first entered the convenience store, she decides on telling him a partial lie. "I heard Bokuto say he had mastered doing cross court shots when he came in, so I assumed that since you came as a group, all of you must have been dismissed from volleyball practice."

Akaashi hums in acknowledgement, scanning the last item in the basket she passes to him. "Ah, how perceptive of you." he remarks.

Somehow, that feels like a tease towards her lie. No, she's overthinking it. Aritsu swallows and wards away the thought, schooling her face into an assured smile as if that's what she was meant to say the whole time.

"By the way," Akaashi speaks up before Aritsu resorts to her old tactics to direct the flow of the conversation. He pauses to flatten her crinkled yen note against his palm. Intrigue sparks in her as she watches him insert the notes and coins into the machine, noting how his yen notes are frighteningly clean as if they have been ironed.

He spins around to face her once he's finished with the transaction, continuing with his sentence, "We'll be doing our presentation on lactose intolerance next week Monday."

"That's fast." Aritsu wonders aloud, taking over the plastic bag of her snacks he hands to her.

"Time flies, but I think we're ready to present. I've gone over both our scripts and our content. However, I think it's best if we rehearse one more time on Sunday." Akaashi says, following Aritsu to the exit of the convenience store. "When are you free to call on the weekend?"

The sliding doors open with a chime when Aritsu steps up to the exit. She pauses when he does next to a shelf of magazines closest to the exit, mentally running through her available timings.

"Anytime on Sunday." she decided.

"Would 1pm be okay? After lunchtime." Akaashi suggests. Witnessing Aritsu's nod, he bows his head to key the details of their discussion into his phone.

Aritsu waits for him to be done. The sliding door has already slid closed again, unable to compete with her patience.

She should leave. They're done with their discussion and there's no reason for her to lurk around. But Aritsu can't move a muscle from where she stands. Instead, she lets her eyes wander across his face, throwing caution to the wind that steals the cries of her brain chiding her that it's a horrible idea.

Outside the convenience store, clouds thin into strips. A dash of orange and pink sweeps across the skies, bathing the city below in an ethereal amber glow. It penetrates the cold glare of the fluorescent lights above their heads, reaching into the convenience store. The gentle rays dusts a rosy glow against Akaashi's skin, caressing the smooth plane of his cheeks, kissing his long lashes.

He's beautiful, and Aritsu cannot tear her eyes away as loud as the rational part of her may beg.

"She's just a friend."

Aritsu rips her gaze away to the sun settling into its nest, a lump forming in her throat when Akaashi looks up. Her heart pounds loudly and uncomfortably in her chest, an anthem that makes her tighten her hold onto the straps of the plastic bag.

It's time to go.

"Thanks, Akaashi. I'll see you on Sunday." Aritsu turns to him, schooling her face into a grateful smile.

With that, she starts toward the sliding doors. She makes it out onto the pavement when Akaashi responds in kind, calling after her.

"Get home safe, Ritsu san."

Home?

The word stops her in her tracks. Breath catching in her throat, Aritsu whips around to glance into the convenience store, but there's an empty spot where Akaashi is supposed to stand next to the shelf of magazines.

The sliding doors seals away her window looking into the convenience store, ushering her to embark on the way home.

Shrugging off the peculiarity encoded in Akaashi's farewell, she manages to arrive home before the sun fully sets over the horizon. Aritsu ghosts past Shinsei who calls something out to her, making a beeline for the kitchen to hide her snack haul.

Heaving the plastic bag onto the kitchen table, she pours out the contents. A sea of colour fill the white marble, receding as she packs them all into a box marked with her name to put away in the snack drawer.

Popping open the fridge door, she stores the aloe vera yoghurt packets into the drink compartment where they would be kept cold. Surprisingly, there's a lot more room left to fill - two large gaping spaces glaring back at her. It doesn't take her long to figure out why when she notices the lonely carton of orange juice isolated in the corner, left to enjoy the abundance of space.

She forgot to buy the milk.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚

✧. ┊    SIDE NOTES

; shiori brought home the milk instead from the grocer's. shinsei demanded payment from aritsu by stealing half the tub of her cookie dough chocolate chip ice cream, to which she had no choice but to reluctantly oblige

; first bokuto and (part of) the fukurodani gang feature! they'll be more in the future, but for now this is their first meeting with aritsu besides akaashi

; aritsu's favourite go to snacks to get from the convenience store are white peaches, calbee crisps, onigiris and fruit cakes for a quick bite. japan's convenience stores are such a dream guys ughhh i got so hungry searching up what they sell

[shoyosluver]

Hi! I loved your rating pet name thread thing. Could you please do the same for kuroo Tetsurō.

Take care and have a good day/night~

KUROO TETSUROU ✰ RATING THE PET NAMES YOU CALL HIM: A THREAD

NOTE. Have a good day/night too, nonnie! ‘n thank youu!

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

[shoyosluver]

imagining bokuto running straight to you after winning a volleyball game at the olympics...

when japan wins gold, it's a blur. the players are ecstatic and clapping each other on the back. the coaches are proud and crying tears of happiness. the audience is thrilled and cheering in celebration, you included. and bokuto?

he's sprinting straight for the stands with a bouquet of flowers clutched in his hand. the speed at which he moves belies the fact that he just played five long sets. bokuto's feet—and heart—are so light he thinks he could fly.

the moment he approaches you, bokuto's eyes visibly shine with overflowing joy. before you know it, he's leaning over the railing and kissing you like it's the last day on earth.

you hear the rapid clicks of camera shutters as the paparazzi snap photos of the couple hopelessly in love, but you couldn't care less. the two of you are lost in each other, oblivious to your surroundings.

when you part, the sight that meets your eyes renders you breathless and not just from the kiss. bokuto is gazing at you in pure adoration as he gives you the bouquet filled with your favorite flowers, a tradition he follows after every match regardless of whether his team wins or loses. still, it never fails to evoke a fluttery sensation in your chest.

"for you! i love you!"

his words are always so enthusiastic and straightforward and contain every ounce of devotion he has for you. you can't help but feel the tears threatening to spill, realizing just how far he's come over the years.

"i love you too."

and he's beaming at you with all the light in the world. bokuto is undoubtedly the star of the show, but to him, you're the only star he sees.

a/n: for @bokutoko hope u enjoy this 🫶🏽

for more works, check out my masterlist

© tetskuro 2024. please do not repost or modify my work.

[shoyosluver]

-ˋˏ✄┈ 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘴𝘦 : 007

- ͙۪۪̥˚┊❛ THE CURSE OF THE GREATEST ❜ ┊

akaashi x f!oc!reader

◦ ‘ do I need to lie to

make my way in life?

are you satisfied

with an easy ride?

once you cross the line

will you be satisfied? '

🔊 :: track seven, are you satisfied

CW; written in third person, this is angsty be warned, mentions of bullying, minor swearing, there may be some inaccurate depictions of how volleyball practices go!! (please correct me if there are any misconceptions)

WC; 9.2k

icymi!! find the reprise masterlist here

Stepping into the gymnasium was like plunging into icy cold waters after not going for a swim in the longest time, with the chilly breeze whipping around your ankles, nudging you forward and towards the edge of the diving board.

You don’t want to swim, but the wind threatens to push you under. You don’t want to take a step forward, but the annoyed stares boring into your back and the snaking long queue don’t leave much room for choice.

So you step forward and jump. Even as your heart ricochets wildly in your chest as if you’re on the brink of death and it’s desperately trying to resuscitate. Even as you’re washed with a heavy sense of dread that fills you from your head to the tips of your toes after the leap of faith.

That’s what it feels like for Aritsu to enter the gymnasium again.

Memories rush to her as she soaks in the activity on the court. The squeaking of volleyball sneakers on the gymnasium floor, commands and yells as girls dive down to receive or leap up to spike, the thump of the ball when it hits the ground.

All of it takes her back. Aritsu’s sucked back in time about her matches and volleyball practices during junior high.

Kyou yelling at Aritsu as she tumbles backwards and lifts the ball off the ground, saving it from a touchdown, “Smack it, Ritsu!”

She bites down the ache, trained to shut out the burning pain in her legs. In a heartbeat, she launches herself off the floor just as her setter falls into position, hands poised to send the ball her way.

The view from the top, where she soars over the creeping wall that jumps in a second too late to stop her momentum. Refining her focus, she narrows in on a weak corner of the court and watches as anguish floods the faces of her opponents, heads turning helplessly in the trajectory of the ball.

And a whistle fires - signalling the end of the game.

Then the cameras go off, the whole stadium erupting into applause.

“She’s a miracle, Aritsu Tomoha! Such an exquisite, perfect form, the mirror image of Shinsei Tomoha’s beautiful spikes! Nothing less I’d expect…”

A pair of hands cup over her ears, muffling out the rest of the announcer’s words. Kyou drags her out of the hall, pushing past any incoming reporter and dismissing them in a single glare that could kill.

Only when the lights from the cameras fade, the noise of incessant questions stuffed into her ears drowned out by the cry of cicadas, does Aritsu slowly unwind.

“You did well.” Kyou crosses her arms across her chest, attentive gaze slithering from hers to the gaps of sunlight filtered through the tree tops in the garden. “Other than the few slip ups you did on court, like getting baited to spike into being blocked. You've got to pay attention to the balls I receive for you to spike, not the cameras."

Her hands come upon Aritsu's shoulders, fixing her solemn gaze on Aritsu's. "It's just you, me, our teammates, and the ball on the court. There's no need to pay attention to anything else, because we're playing together and this is not a talent show of an individual, got it?"

That lifts a tremendous weight off Aritsu’s chest. Kyou, forever supportive in her own quiet ways. The reason why her volleyball experiences in junior high were pleasant and tolerable. Though she was not in good terms with everybody on the team, as long as Kyou was present, things were easier to get by.

Now in her absence, wounds open up. Bad blood leaks. Aritsu fears she’s not stable on her own, a cloudy mist shrouding the light shed onto volleyball, what she tried her hardest to maintain for years so she wouldn’t crash and burn.

A holler blots out the rest of her thoughts. “The two of you over there!”

Following the source of the voice, Aritsu glances their coach walking over, pulling the cap of his ballpoint pen off with his teeth when he comes to a stop before them.

Leta falls first into an apologetic bow, hair nearly sweeping against the floor. “I’m Valeta Langley, class six, year one! I’m very sorry we’re late, I encountered a delay in not being able to find my volleyball shoes!”

The specificity in her statement catches Aritsu off guard, rendering her speechless for a few seconds. She breaks out of her daze when the coach’s gaze shifts to her, bowing her head politely. “And I’m-”

“-Aritsu Tomoha?” the coach beats her to the punch. His pen moves across the page, marking them for attendance. Without waiting for her confirmation, he ticks the check box next to her name in full confidence of who she is.

His head rises when he’s done, nodding at them once. “Go get changed, and warm up with the others. We’ll be starting with drills in ten minutes.”

Having dropped the command, he paces back to surveying the court, leaving Leta and Aritsu to respond accordingly.

Aritsu swallows down the introduction she has planned on giving - right before he interjected. A part of her seethes quietly at how he had not even allowed her a chance to speak, while the other sighs with relief at the denied opportunity to state her full name.

Those mixed feelings turn into fleeting considerations when they enter the locker rooms. Leta’s anxiousness flows out of her mouth like a gushing stream, occupying Aritsu’s mind, leaving no room for to ponder on the earlier matter.

“I don’t want to drag the quality of our matches down. I’m afraid I’m not up to standard. I heard the Fukurodani girl’s volleyball team has quite a few remarkable players, and they’re all quite seasoned, which I don’t want to ruin…” Leta fusses, face paling as more worries plague her the longer she fixates on them. Aritsu notes the slip of her fingers on her buttons, scrambling just like her clumsy rambling.

The nerves are getting to Leta, who has begin to show her potential in being a chronic overthinker. Aritsu decides she has to step in, not wanting to see the girl belittle herself when their practice has barely begun.

Lacing up her volleyball shoes, Aritsu double knots it before pushing herself off the bench. “It’s too early to say that.” She delivers a pat to Leta’s shoulder in consolation. “Who’s to say you’re not up to standard, Leta? They chose you after seeing how you performed in tryouts. If you didn’t meet their expectations, you wouldn’t have made it here.”

That makes Leta wordless - before her entire face reddens.

“You think so?” Leta asks giddily. She’s stopped fiddling with that difficult button, waiting eagerly for a reply.

It’s very obvious what the answer would be. Her question leaves Aritsu wondering if she had chose the right option, uncomfortable to deal with handing out compliments more than once, especially when asked.

For the sake of Leta however, who strikes Aritsu as a different case, she compiles with the determination to instil some confidence in her.

She throws her a reassuring smile, flashing her a thumbs up. “Of course. You’d take my word for it, right?”

Hope glimmers in Leta's eyes. Then she purses her lips, letting out a determined huff. Aritsu feels her warmth press against the back of her palms when Leta closes her hands around hers. The unexpected touch makes Aritsu recoil in shock, but Leta squeezes her hand tightly, restricting her from pulling away.

"Yes!" Leta declares. Aritsu stills in place, hands going slack in Leta's grip when she catches a glimpse of her cheerful smile. "You're right. I shouldn't worry too much. I have you by my side, after all. There's nothing more reassuring than that!"

Slowly, she drops Aritsu's hands, returning them to her sides. "Let's work hard together, Ritsu!"

The enthusiasm strung along in her declarations befuddles Aritsu. Even though she wanted Leta to feel better about herself, her quick recovery from a few simple words of comfort is astounding. She doubts they were that encouraging, but they seem to have rekindled Leta's flame and allowed it to come roaring back to life, a miraculous rejuvenation of her spirit.

She decides that the girl is very easy to please. In some ways, this could be perceived as negative, but Aritsu envies her ability to feel content with the bare minimum. There's purity in her declaration laced with trust. Something she gave to Aritsu by clasping her hand in hers, connecting them together through the touch like they are close friends.

A small smile creeps onto Aritsu's cheeks at the simple mindedness of Leta. There's no telling how long this will last, unpredictable as the weather. Whether they will still be companions at the end of their practice session is a question that remains unanswered, yet for now, Aritsu is grateful for Leta's clarifications of them being friends, ambiguous as the term may be.

She gestures to Leta's half unbuttoned shirt. "We'll miss out on half of the action if you refuse to get changed," she teases.

"Ah, I shouldn't keep you waiting!" Leta gasps, undoing the rest of her buttons with a deft hand. She slips off their uniform and whips out a dry fit shirt and sport shorts from her bag, "How disrespectful of me, especially when I've already made us late by not being able to find my shoes and having you wait for me. I'll hurry up and not stall time any longer so we can catch up to the others!"

Hastily, she tugs it over her head and pulls her hair into a ponytail. Aritsu lets herself be dragged out of the locker rooms with a chuckle as Leta grabs her hand, making a dash to regroup with the rest of their soon to be team members at the court.

The court is spilt into two. Leta starts toward the left half, where the other first years accepted into the team are helping one another stretch by the sidelines. The coach stands with them, arms crossed and adding comments on how they can stretch further, ignoring the groans that echo after his instructions.

Aritsu proceeds to follow suit in the direction Leta’s headed, trying to school her face into nonchalance instead of the scowl threatening to surface at the pain of having to stretch. Being flexible was her Achilles heel, making her cower in sheer agony at how it ran searing pains through her muscles and the shame of never being able to touch her toes.

She barely takes the first step into the court when a ball whizzes straight toward her. A faint yell cries out to her right, accompanied by a series of rushed footsteps, “Watch out!”

Whipping her head to face the interruption, her volleyball instincts set in. Aritsu spins on her heel, shifting away from the path of the ball. Her knees lock into a bend, hand outstretched to receive. Her eyes zero in on the ball. Altering the angle she holds her arms out, the movement of the ball plays in her head like a glimpse into the predicted future, all the way from when it hits her arms to when it bounces off into the air - a perfect receive.

Blinking back in real time, a hiss escapes her lips at the impact of the ball when it hits. It bounces off her arms with a hard thud, sailing back into the air. Her gaze trails after it, tracking where it goes - right into the second year’s hands who was chasing after the ball.

The quiet silence that falls over the court wrenches Aritsu out of her sharp focus and back to the present. Every movement in the court seems to pause, as if trapped in frozen time. From the far left, she could see the coach’s head perk up in the corner of her eye. Before her, the second year blinks dumbly, tilting her head to look down at the ball and then back at her in disbelief.

Then a pair of hands begin to clap. It’s a solitary sound created by one. It doesn’t spread to the others, only echoes, the sound drawing closer and closer.

With it, the collective silence lifts. Behind the second year who retrieved the ball, a tall female emerges. Crossing past the second year, she bides her time to stride over to Aritsu.

The more distance the female closes between them, the more the fact of how tall she is registers in Aritsu’s brain. She may be able to estimate the path of the ball after picturing a receive in her brain, but not somebody’s height, especially with the deception of distance. Her claps draw to a stop when her strides do before Aritsu, she towers effortlessly over the first year, casting a shadow over her frame that seems to shrink in comparison.

She regards Aritsu with a lifted chin, pausing for a beat to draw her hand to her hip. The glare in her marigold eyes seems imposing at first, complemented with the shape of her eyes eerily similar to a cat’s.

For a moment, Aritsu feels as if she’s being seized up by her intimidating glare like a wounded prey in the run from a bloodthirsty prowler. But that quickly changes when mild interest smooths across her judgemental stare.

A languid smile stretches lazily across her lips. Tilting her head, she lets slip an ambiguous hum that’s about as mysterious as the midnight purple of her butterfly waves.

An aching familiarity strikes Aritsu spotting the colour of her shoulder length hair, though the thought passes through her mind like silk before she could get a grip on it.

“Not bad.” the female remarks. Her smile curves at the corners akin to a jester’s.

Aritsu’s heart lurches at the sight of it. She recognises this smile. She’s seen it somewhere, this strange smile that’s off putting yet piquing the intrigue of one at the same time.

Or was she overthinking it and making up false assumptions on her own?

The female continues to speak as Aritsu lets her thoughts run. “That was a perfect set I placed in the hands of my second year spiker, Matsuoka.”

Aritsu pinpoints the mystery identity of the random name drop on the spot when the female rests her hand atop the second year who retrieved the ball’s shoulder. The second year shakes out of the trance with the tap on the shoulder that stirs life into her.

“That’s me.” the second year introduces with a little bow. “Matsuoka Haya. Nice to meet you.”

Aritsu can only offer a polite nod to Matsuoka as the female with the cat like eyes sweeps in directly after the exchange. “True to Matsuoka’s first name, Haya, her spikes are a fast and steady attack. If it touched the floor, Matsuoka would have scored a perfect hand driven spike.”

“But, that is,” Not once has the female’s attentive gaze left Aritsu’s, and it’s more intense now with the next statement that follows. “Until you made a perfect receive with that ball. The excellent control you have exhibited and your lightning fast reflexes to react to the speed at which the ball was heading towards you is commendable.”

A perfect set.

Now she knows. The keywords have highlighted a discovery that sends a chill dancing down Aritsu’s spine at who she’s currently engaged in a conversation with, though it’s fairly one sided currently.

Narumi Kamiya, Fukurodani’s famed setter for their female volleyball team, who was featured in the Japanese youth sports magazine as one of the most talented setters in the country known for her flexible style and amazing adaptability.

It was rumoured that every spiker she had worked with. No matter how tough due to contrasting play styles, she never failed to find even ground with her spiker at an unbelievable speed.

Narumi stops short, cutting Aritsu a glance that gives off the feelings of both interest and of a schemer’s. “What’s your name, first year?”

The reply comes with a delay, a work of Aritsu’s brain trying to snap out of processing Narumi’s identity and the reality of how she had just been complimented. Wow, she had really walked in to volleyball tryouts blind.

“Aritsu Tomoha.” She answers after a slight shake of her head to get rid of her regrets at not having done her research.

Though there’s only more to come when Narumi’s smile falls. The air around them goes still, frosted by the iciness taking over Narumi’s friendly demeanour. A cold wave of dread thrums through Aritsu’s nerves as the corners of Narumi’s lips dip into a flat line, eyes narrowing into deadly slits.

“So you’re the Aritsu Tomoha?” Narumi hisses the name through her teeth, voice dripping with an unbridled irritation Aritsu can’t pinpoint the cause of. Next to her, Haya stiffens, eyes going wide.

Aritsu’s unsure of what she’s startled about - the fact that she is Aritsu Tomoha - or Narumi’s sudden hostility. Both are unthinkable, though something tells her it was bound to happen. If not now, it would be soon.

Uneasiness ripples through her. This isn’t new, the grim voice in her head reminds her. She’s been through this before. She’s not supposed to be shocked. It is not the first time someone has deemed her presence on the court unwelcome. Be it envy, pure dislike, the gaping distance in skill or her background, all of it sets her apart from the others. Akin to a foreign entity, held in either awe or spite that drives away a possible connection.

How foolish for her to think that she had a chance at avoiding that here. Every volleyball court she steps into, every team she joins, the curse of being the greatest follows like a shadow.

Aritsu realises she has yet to respond to Narumi’s question. However, her tongue is tied, and the question itself feels rhetorical. What is more telling is the glare that bores into her face, an indication that Narumi may rip her to pieces with her tongue if she speaks.

Biting down on her tongue, Aritsu makes the wise choice to keep silent. But she does not lift her gaze away from Narumi’s piercing stare, unwilling to let go of the pride that lingers in her heart.

Her subtle defiance creates a tic by Narumi’s eyebrows. Lips pulling back into a scowl, she leans closer, looming threateningly over Aritsu.

A fire flickers in Narumi’s eyes, one that burns to devour mercilessly, charring everything in its path. An intense wildfire of unexplainable hatred directed towards Aritsu. Fisting her hands by her sides, Aritsu remains unmoving and firm, ignoring the way her skin crawls with the malice radiating off Narumi.

She knows picking this fight is stupid. Something in her head tells her that she should divert her gaze and give in. The air around her prickles with a foreboding dread, an ominous sign that she shouldn’t engage.

But she also knows from the mere seconds that they spent interacting that nothing she does is going to salvage nor tame the incoming storm.

“Coach.” Narumi doesn’t spare him a glance even as she speaks. “Could Aritsu join the second and third years in our practice match?”

That was not what Aritsu was expecting her to say. She blinks, breaking the unspoken staring contest they were having, letting alarm flicker across her face.

Witnessing her loss in composure, a smirk tugs at the edges of Narumi’s mouth, as if she’s won the invisible battle. There’s no chance for Aritsu to take back her moment of weakness. Taking advantage of the opportunity presented by Aritsu’s stunned silence, Narumi barrels on with her outrageous request while Aritsu can hardly protest.

Aritsu turns her head when Narumi does, swinging to face the coach. Stopping before the two of them, he assesses the situation with a single glance.

Hesitation furrows his eyebrows together. “Are you sure, Kamiya? She hasn’t warmed up and gotten assessed during drills yet with the other first years.”

Agreement rises to Aritsu’s lips, but it’s quickly shoved away as Narumi scoffs.

“She doesn’t need to do those drills, coach. This is Tomoha you’re speaking to. There’s nothing to assess.” The utter of her last name on Narumi’s lips feels wrong, and she says it with barely contained ill intent like a curse. Aritsu flinches when Narumi presses a hand to her back, pushing her toward Haya. “As for warm ups, Matsuoka will guide her through stretching.”

As Aritsu stumbles to Haya’s side, she steadies herself in time before she slams into the confused second year. Raising her head, she looks past Haya’s apologetic gaze to Leta’s worried ones watching her in the distance.

Over the course of the past few events, she had let slip the fact that Leta was on the same court as she is. Even from afar, she could almost hear Leta’s anxious mumbles, picturing the way her baby blue orbs would be ringed with concern. Giving her a slight shake of the head, Aritsu willed Leta’s troubling thoughts to go away and leave the girl at peace, not wanting to bother her with worrying about matters she should settle with her own hands.

A low hum from the coach draws Aritsu’s attention away from Leta and back to the present conversation.

“Alright, do as you wish, Kamiya.” He approves with a nod of the head. Aritsu’s mouth falls open with disbelief at how readily he had changed his mind, wondering what happened to the reservations that had held him back earlier. Were Narumi’s words that convincing? Or had she missed an important event throughout the conversation because she had looked away for a few seconds?

Doubt ebbs into her. She reaches out to call after the coach when he turns his back to them, walking back to the group of first years awaiting his commands, where she was supposed to go - until a hand clamps down on her shoulder.

“Come on, Tomoha. We have a match to play. Matsuoka!” Narumi calls for the second year with a snap of her fingers as she steers Aritsu off into the opposite direction. Shoving Aritsu toward Haya, she pats the second year’s shoulder and leaves her with nothing other than, “Make sure she’s stretched properly. In five minutes, join us in the match.”

Then Narumi is sauntering off back in the court, clapping her hands to rally the team together and resuming their play. Their heated exchange earlier seems to cease to exist in the back of her mind when she switches gears, entering the role of an attentive setter that pays attention only to the scenes on the court.

The effortless way in which Narumi drops the unsolicited display of hostility to Aritsu like it was nothing infuriates her, somehow plucking at the ends of her nerves and threatening to fray them.

Haya finds them a lone corner at the edge of the court by the sidelines. Flopping down, Aritsu takes Haya’s hands when she stretches them out and splits her legs as far as she can stretch. Gritting her teeth, she tunes out the foreboding drumming of her heart, opting to not think about the suspicious intent behind Narumi’s strange request.

Her head seems to think otherwise. It keeps wandering back to the taunting gaze Narumi throws over her shoulder at Aritsu when she crosses back the court. The indignant flash of marigold in her eyes, plotting something behind her fierce glare.

It bothers her, gnawing at her patience. Unthinkable how somebody would decide to hate her at first glance without barely getting to know her. Or was it the rumours that influenced her perception of Aritsu?

“Switch.” Haya’s commands saves Aritsu from her trailing thoughts, at least for a while. Pushing herself down to the floor, she complies.

Focusing on the dig of Haya’s knee into her back, Aritsu bends over with a small grunt. They remain in this position for a few seconds without speaking to one another, before Aritsu concedes, unable to take any more of the silence.

“Who is Narumi to you?” she brings up, deciding that it’s better to drive the topic to that instead of placing her focus on the pain of being forced to the floor.

Surprise paints Haya’s voice when she answers after a brief pause. “Kamiya,” she corrects Aritsu’s informalities. “She is our vice captain of the Fukurodani female volleyball team.”

The revelation bludgeons the rest of Aritsu’s irrelevant thoughts, shutting out all else like a circuit out of power. Tension bunches up in her limbs, which are beginning to burn, like her mind. She recalls that now, having read it in the youth sports magazine, taken from an interview they conducted with Narumi.

But there’s a sinking feeling that she’s missing a part of the puzzle. There was something else she knew Narumi for, other than her keen prowess in being a talented setter.

A key to understanding the intense spite that crumpled Narumi’s face at hearing her name.

“So Narumi’s the vice captain. Who’s the captain?” Aritsu asks, grimacing when Haya eases her further down, showing her no mercy.

“Kamiya is our vice captain.” The second year doesn’t relent on trying to teach Aritsu manners and formalities, just like the force she presses onto Aritsu’s back. She swears she’s about to break into two if she has to go any further down. “Our captain is-”

Her sentence is interrupted by none other than the vice captain herself. “Matsuoka! Tomoha! Join us on the court now.” Narumi calls out, waving them over. A ball rests comfortably in her hands, finding a home in the curve of her palm.

Haya lets off Aritsu’s back immediately, leaving her to sink to the floor with a loud exhale of relief, the burning pain in her muscles subsiding. Holding out a hand, she beckons Aritsu to her feet with a firm nod.

After a moment's hesitation, Aritsu takes Haya's hand and gets up from the floor. Haya drops her hand gently once she's done and breaks into a jog, prompting Aritsu to follow along to her example. They approach the rest of the second years and third years that have temporarily taken a break to wait for their arrival. Aritsu's steps slow when Haya brings her before Narumi, who diverts her gaze to theirs after taking a long gulp of water from her bottle.

Narumi acknowledges Haya first, the dismissive way her gaze brushed past Aritsu as if she were a mere speck of dust hovering in the air next to Haya tells her that it's intentional. Excluded from the conversation, Aritsu pieces bits of information through her own inference, concluding that Haya will join the other team when she walks over to join the group of girls heading back into the court on the other side of the net.

On the contrary, she's met with a vague instruction. "You're with me. Start off opposite and do your best." Narumi says flatly. Without waiting for Aritsu to register the grouping, she starts toward their side of the court, calling for everybody to get into their positions.

Most of the team members don't so much say anything except spare Aritsu a furtive glance when she enters the court. One of them who's a little taller than Narumi and has her chestnut brown hair up in fat two braids gives her a small wave, dissipating the apprehension she feels from the team, but not the wariness that pulses in her chest of Narumi's secretive scheme for recruiting her into their team.

Speaking of, is their starting server. While Aritsu's observing her team and figuring out everybody's positions, Narumi and a girl with short spiky hair complete their rock-paper-scissors showoff with Narumi as the victor. Low thuds sound from the back of the court when Narumi dribbles the ball a few times. It sets off a chain reaction among the players waiting for the serve to kickstart the game, sharp focus fixed ahead and limbs tensed to move about the court readily.

Shoes squeaking, Narumi casts off into the air. The serve slams right onto the floor despite the opposing team's middle blocker shifting to receive it. Aritsu bristles, blown away by its impact. Beside her, she hears the girl with the two fat braids merely draw a sigh despite the grand display of raw power in Narumi's serve.

Aritsu turns to the front, spotting a similar reaction in a second year across the net from her. Her golden brown eyes narrow, as if vexed by the serve earlier. "So that's how it is this time," she hears the disgruntled murmur slip her lips with a click of her tongue.

There's no time to wonder about the ominous meaning behind the thoughts she's not voicing out. The opposing team has recovered, tossing back the ball to Narumi. This time when Narumi hits another strong serve, they manage to receive it and keep it in play this time. As the ball goes up into the air, the game commences, sending everyone flying to get out of blocking someone's way and aid the flow of the game.

"Left!" Someone yells from across the net. Within seconds, their setter - the black spiky haired girl from earlier - makes a set and the ball's spiked into their court. To Aritsu's right, their libero saves the ball before it hits the floor, sending it back into the air.

"Nice receive!" The braided hair girl, the middle blocker for their team speaks up beside Aritsu. Her teammates are scrambling, already falling into line for a counterattack. Following suit, Aritsu tries to stay relevant to the game and contribute to her team even if she barely knows either of them and how they usually play.

Everything feels as if it's a video fast forwarded twice. The players on the court shift into their positions seamlessly with practiced ease, keeping up with the flow of the game or they will fall behind. One moment the ball's sailing across the net, next it's on their side of the court.

Aritsu cannot zone out, not even for a moment. This is the ferocity of a regular volleyball game. This is what it means to be playing for one of the powerhouses in Tokyo. Watching the scenes play out around her is a grim reminder of how much of a spectator she's been reduced to in this game, and all this is caught in Narumi's occasional stare flitting her way whenever she sets a ball and it doesn't go to her.

Her, the daughter of Shinsei Tomoha, the ace of a professional volleyball team for Japan.

Her, a Tomoha expected to strive in volleyball excellence.

Her cheeks burn with shame at how she's been cast aside in this match despite the qualifications she has built up. For the earlier half of this match, she's been trying to keep up and move in sync to everybody else. Much to her dismay, it's fruitless. The ferocious pace is devouring her whole, forcing her to make sloppy receives. This is nothing compared to a practice match in her junior high - everybody here moves with purpose and takes calculated risks.

Regrettably, she's falling behind, with each passing moment that she doesn't try hard enough to get Narumi to acknowledge her by rewarding her with a set. Even though she's an opposite hitter, she barely got the chance to spike at all. The thought alone is ironic and laughable, digging into her confidence and creating a fissure.

This is Narumi's plan. Every set served elegantly to another spiker on a golden plate she keeps out of Aritsu's reach, chipping away at her determination. As of now, she has the upper hand. The heel of her foot crushes Aritsu's hand clinging onto the ledge, an open taunt glimmering menacingly in her eyes, challenging her to give in to the harsh truth of how she doesn't belong on the team.

But it's not enough to overwhelm the sour taste in Aritsu's mouth, the wild fear that clings to her at the idea of an impending defeat. Turning back now would sever all the sacrifices she's made to stand under the limelight of finally being worthy of the title hanging over her head - the little Tomoha prodigy, a mirror of Shinsei's greatness.

The tide of considerations in her head rears its head upon Narumi's ploy, engulfing it and burying it like a forgotten artefact at the bottom in the sea. It's now or never to start fitting into the court, or be shunned and pointed out as a fraud.

Clenching her jaw, she inhales deeply, devoting her focus to this game. Renewed strength courses through her, sprinkling life to her defeated senses. Quietly, Aritsu observes the court around her, tuning her brain to zone in on solely the events taking place in the game and nothing else.

It's a heated battle for the last winning point. Both teams have their hands planted firmly to the rope, tugging until sores are seared onto the flesh of their palms. An ongoing rally, with both teams fighting tooth and nail to break out of the loop.

Remember what you were taught.

"One, two, now!" Their middle blocker and Aritsu jump up to block a spike. Stretching out her hands as high as she can, she manages to get the timing right and be in sync. The ball skims past her fingers, soaring into the open air behind them.

Remember what you drilled into yourself.

Remember to uphold your title of being the elder Tomoha.

They land swiftly. "One touch!" their middle blocker shouts. Angling her head back, Aritsu turns to watch the movement of the ball, glazing past each teammate and stopping at Narumi.

This is her chance. The two people that Narumi have been setting to are not in a convenient position to score a point, casting the spotlight onto Aritsu. The best opportunity that Narumi cannot deny her of, set out before her, bright as day.

This point is hers to make.

Narumi's tosses will attempt to push her beyond her limits. Pacing the court, being turned down with any chance for her to spike, has allowed Aritsu to hone her perception of the game.

The opening that whispers her name, the catalyst that will send the outcome of the game tumbling to its knees.

"Left!" she bellows.

Confusion crumples the calm concentration on Narumi's face at her proclamation. She searches the rest of the teammates for an excuse, before her reluctant gaze snags onto Aritsu's unrelenting ones.

Every fibre of Aritsu's being screams to be chosen. It's pulsing in her veins, roaring in her ears. Her legs are already bunching into a powerful jump, it feels perfect, it is perfect.

Pursing her lips, Narumi looks back to the ball racing into her open palms. Adjusting her hands, she shifts them into a set directed Aritsu's way.

The ball propels into the air, arching way above their heads. Under the glare of the lights, it seems as if it could graze the ceiling of the gymnasium. It's a high set, higher than average.

Most won't be able to jump that high to meet the ball. It will run past their outstretched hands. The muscles in their limbs won't be able to account for the distance they have to cover, unused to the exertion, causing them to stumble and miss the peak of the ball's climb to the top.

In other words, impossible to achieve from the get go. A cruel toss designed to shatter the rest of Aritsu's spirit.

And it would have, if Aritsu's past experiences with volleyball had carved the notion for her to shine and not to blind.

Blockers surge upwards to stop her across the net, building a mighty wall of their own to shut down her momentum. Beyond their hands, lies a summit that blinks at her, carrying the answer to their victory.

The corners of Aritsu's lips tug upwards into a triumphant grin, knowing the point is already won. Like a pair of wings flaring out and beating behind her, she's above the block, above anybody's reach.

Curving her hand, she blasts the ball through the block, sending it down to the floor in a cross court shot.

The rally falls apart and Aritsu begins to register her surroundings. Someone exhales loudly behind her, expelling the breath they seem to have been holding back for ages. A dozen baffled stares are pinned on Aritsu, each bearing varying emotions teetering between shock and surprise.

Then someone yanks at her collar. A low wince sounds at the back of her throat at the rough tug whisking her off her feet. The collar of her shirt digs into the skin of her neck, inflicting a spiking pain.

"You were not supposed to spike that, you crazed bitch." Narumi hisses, grip creasing her collar, restraining the fabric around her neck tight enough to cut off her circulation.

Frustration rips through Aritsu's nerves at the stinging accusation. Of course, all because her plan to make things harder for Aritsu was foiled, she has to take out her unreasonable dislike against her for doing nothing wrong in particular.

Aritsu's hands cup around Narumi's strangling hold, nails digging into the skin of her wrist to pry her off. "Then what was I supposed to do?" she grits through clenched teeth. "Do nothing through the match and let you ridicule me? I think not."

A shadow falls over Narumi's face. "Give it up, Tomoha." she snarls.

"Narumi, stop!" The girl with braids that waved to Aritsu at the start of the their match steps in, closing their hand around Narumi's wrist, pulling at her death grip around Aritsu's collar.

Springing back with a gasp, Aritsu feels relief flow back into her at the feel of the ground beneath her feet. The girl with braids - based off her first name basis with Narumi, she should be in the same year as the vice captain - separates her from Narumi's constricting hold in a swift move.

"Stay out of this, Chisa." Narumi snaps, attempting to get to Aritsu again - but Chisa pushes in between them, shielding Aritsu with one arm.

Temper flares in Narumi's glare at the protective action. "You can't be serious. Don't defend someone like her."

At the disgruntlement in her voice, Aritsu feels her chest tighten in anger. What does that even mean? Why does Narumi want her to hurt so badly, when it's clear she's done nothing to her? What runs so deeply inside of her heart that fills it in spite to condone her own unreasonable behaviour?

"What the hell do you mean, someone like me?" she blurts out angrily, ignoring Chisa's cautionary gaze that flits over to her. "What gives you the right to control what others want to do? Just because you are the vice captain doesn't mean you can abuse your authority to order other people around and shut them out because you don't like them."

A muscle twitches in Narumi's jaw, provoked by Aritsu's outburst. She starts toward Aritsu, pushing against Chisa's restraining hold. "You don't know what you're talking about-"

"Ever since I got here," Aritsu cuts her off sharply with a jerk of her head, unable to hold back her tongue, the words spilling out like the rush of fury that creeps into her voice before she can restrain them. "You've been unreasonably hostile and dismissive. The match that you made me play in earlier was designed to put me down, and when I proved you wrong, you got upset and decided to take it out on me. I don't understand - what is it that I did to anger you? What have I ever done to you that makes you so determined to bring me down?"

Once the exclamation leaves her lips, it procures a series of murmurs that eventually ripple into an oppressive silence as the words sink in. The unnatural silence prickles at Aritsu's skin uncomfortably, like the uninviting coldness of a harsh wintry night.

Her heart pulses with an uneasiness at how nobody makes a move to speak. In front of her, Chisa shifts slightly, pushing her back a step. The protective action douses her in a stifling dread, more so when Chisa's eyebrows tighten with a suspicious nervousness.

Though nothing is more suspicious than Narumi's refusal to speak immediately. She's frozen to the spot, hands clenched tightly around her sides. Most unnerving of all is the blankness that has befallen her eyes, a void boring into Aritsu's soul.

A pit concealing dark secrets, daring Aritsu to avert her eyes, or spiral into self doubt. Suddenly, Aritsu isn't so sure if she should have said the things she did. A clamminess spreads in her palms, the fury in her giving way to the feeling of inadequacy prodding at her again. As if she's missing something out in this whole situation, as if it's deeper than it seems.

Narumi's eye twitches once in unrestrained anger, lips flattening into a thin line. "What have I ever done to you?"

Aritsu stiffens at a series of dark chuckles coming from Narumi. It sounds wrong, charging the atmosphere around them with a terrifying premonition, spelling out the start of a brewing storm.

"You seriously don't remember, do you?" she spits out, putting an abrupt end to her chuckles. "It's not what you did to me, Tomoha. All this isn't about me and you. I hate you, but not because of anything you've done to me, but because of the blissful oblivion you can live in after ruining someone else's life."

Narrowing her eyes, she takes a step closer to Chisa and Aritsu. Her footstep echoes dully, reverberating off the walls of the gymnasium.

"Narumi." Chisa warns firmly, moving to placate Aritsu behind her back. It goes right over Narumi's head, her wrath creating a tunnel vision that focuses on only Aritsu.

She bends down, level to Aritsu's height. Her voice drops into a chilling whisper. "But I suppose living under the glory of your father's name has always protected you with a sense of entitlement, hasn't it?"

At the mention of Shinsei's name, Aritsu's breath constricts in her throat.

"You Tomohas are barely anything different. You're the stinking image of your father, no matter how hard you try to cover it up. You can't pretend away that you're like him, the way you act, the way you put on such a casual smile to mask the pain and suffering you've caused to others for your own selfish desire."

Aritsu's head begins to spin. Reaching out to clutch at the collar of her shirt, she bites the inside of her cheek to keep herself from spiralling into the confusion, to ground herself.

She's lying. She's nothing like Shinsei Tomoha. She's Aritsu Tomoha, and they are two vastly different individuals despite sharing the same blood. Wrong, she is wrong.

Besides, what does she mean? Selfish desire? Pain and suffering? These terms are foreign concepts to her, things she believes she has never committed to in her life.

A growl rises in the back of her throat despite the cold sheen of sweat coating her skin. "I don't understand what you mean." she starts, loathing how her voice dims unsteadily. "I have never done any of these things before, and I would never attempt them."

Narumi's eyebrows lift. The assuredness in them makes a swell rise in Aritsu's throat. "You don't?" her tone sounds almost accusatory, like it's a crime to not know.

"Oh. Poor thing." Her head cocks to one side, lips curling back into a cruel smirk. "Does your father like to keep you in the dark?"

An invisible weight presses down on Aritsu's chest, passing a foreboding chill to settle into her bones. Her balance stutters for a moment, a lightheadedness infiltrating her mind.

Pleasure fills Narumi's smirk as the fight retreats slowly from Aritsu's features. Raising a finger, she sharpens her words, speeding up the process.

"The summer olympics, year 2004. An infamous case, and withdrawal of Watanabe Kaito, due to the allegations of using drugs." She paused for a moment, glee sparking in her eyes as she watches Aritsu's widen. "He was reported by Shinsei Tomoha, his own teammate."

All of the fleeting thoughts in Aritsu's mind are wiped clean in an instant. Involuntarily, she stumbles back a step, the very words an unforgiving punch that sends her reeling from the shock of the impact.

"What's more, Watanabe Kaito had never shown any signs of aggression or hostility to Shinsei at all. They were perceived to be very good friends. That is, until Shinsei betrayed his trust and pushed him off the ledge, shattering his future of the aspiring volleyball career he had built up." Narumi continues speaking, an edge slipping into her voice. Her gaze hardens. "The volleyball career that his family had relied upon, the inspiration that drove his daughter. Rami Watanabe, my best friend, who following the downfall of her father, had her dreams and ambitions crushed."

She's heard that name before. Now she remembers. It's the name of the girl that Narumi was mentioned with in the magazines, though later removed in the newer copies.

Rami Watanabe, the remarkable spiker driven by an unstoppable force and conviction.

The recognition is painful, a stab to her heart as she pieces together the rest of Narumi's about to tell her. Her hand crumples the collar of her shirt, shaking a little when she figures out the true reason behind Narumi's insurmountable spite.

Rami had her budding talent in volleyball ruined because of her father's complications. On the other hand, Shinsei thrived off the betrayal, rising up to the top. Aritsu had been fed success off her father's spoon, unbeknownst of the suffering that went on during the crafting of it.

"It took ages for Rami to work hard enough to earn back that passion in volleyball again. She was ready to give up hope, if not for my persuasion." Narumi clears her throat, the finality in her voice leaving no room for choice. "I won't let you take that from her again. Admit it, you're not suited for this, prodigy or not. I'll say this once: drop out of the female volleyball team, and everything will be fine."

A sickly feeling envelopes Aritsu from head to toe. She can't do that. She'll be throwing everything away that she's painstakingly worked for. For what purpose, she can't quite define yet, but it would kill her to hand it over to Narumi and comply with her requests. Her conflicting emotions of guilt and regret are at war, messing with her head.

Why does she have to be the one who makes this choice, anyway? Why does she have to pay for her father's actions? Is this what being Shinsei's child indicate?

It's unfair. Aritsu's grip slacken by her collar, falling to her side limply. So does her head, dropping to the ground. Bitterness perpetuates her, planting its seed in her heart.

She didn't choose to be his daughter, fate planned that - so why must she suffer at the hands of her father's consequences?

Narumi's patience thins at Aritsu's lack of response. Her hand flies out to grab her by the collar again, snapping, "Just drop out already-"

"That's enough, Narumi." Chisa intercepts. Her voice is no longer light nor merely firm in warning - it has hardened into something else, a sternness that one must not cross. She forces Narumi's hand down, remaining resolute despite the objection that crosses Narumi's face.

"You've stated your point. I understand your vexation and desire for vengeance on Rami's behalf, but you've gone too far." Chisa's mouth pinches into a disapproving line. "Aritsu is not one to blame for what happened to Rami's family. In fact, Rami approved of her joining the volleyball team, so there is no problem in her presence here."

Narumi's eyes flash in stubborn defiance. "She was making a grave mistake-"

Chisa doesn't allow her to get a word in, shutting her down immediately. "You don't get to decide that, but our captain."

Our captain. The reminder of the authorial figure leads Aritsu back to her unfinished conversation with Haya. Mystery shrouds the identity of their unnamed captain, but Aritsu has heard enough of the conversation to make a wild guess.

A guess that makes her stomach churn and a low pang to thrum through her ears.

"Kamiya, Inuone san." The approaching voice makes all three turn their heads. Haya approaches them, barely making a sound. If not for her calling their names, Aritsu would never have figured she was walking up behind them.

Meeting their quizzical stares, Haya clears her throat and folds her arms behind her back. "Our captain is here."

From behind, Rami steps up to the three of them. The striking familiarity of her face makes Aritsu at a loss for words, dumbstruck eyes peeled on the sharpness of her angular features and the stoic coolness of her blue green eyes.

She's seen the same exact features on the news. Rami is a replica of her father - inheriting the firmness of his thick arched eyebrows, his downward turned mouth, the richness of his ash brown hair that seems deceptively black at first glance.

It's as if she's looking at a female version of Watanabe Kaito standing in front of her. Similarities stand out in everything she does, even in the way she carries herself. Looking at her, Aritsu is reminded of an eagle, born to rule the mountains and flight.

Two different reactions unfold simultaneously on the faces of her seniors. Chisa's face softens into a delighted smile, while Narumi's twist into a gobsmacked frown.

Marching up to Rami, Aritsu barely dodges out of the way in time before Narumi's shoulders push past hers. Rami's eyes shift calmly to meet Narumi's, a stark contrast to the agitated way in which the girl storms toward her.

"I told you not to come because you were sick," Narumi demands, stomps halting as she jabs an accusing finger to Rami's chest. "Did you convince the nurse to let you come? For god's sake, 'Mi!"

Rami doesn't seem in the least bit affected by Narumi's ire, compared to Aritsu who thinks otherwise. She simply pats away her accusatory finger, in a manner that tells Aritsu she's close enough to Narumi to not be bothered by the informal tone.

"I'm fine, 'Rumi." she replies coolly. "I can't let a mere cold stop me from coming to practice."

Ignoring Narumi's grunt of impatience, she surveys the rest, bowing her head in a polite nod to Chisa and the rest of the team members that swarms slowly around them. Finally, her gaze stops at Aritsu, who has not stopped staring at Rami in dumbfounded speechlessness since she had came in.

Her eyebrows lift slightly in an expression that Aritsu can't get a read upon. "Aritsu Tomoha, is it?" she regards with a musing hum.

Rami extends a hand to her. "Pleased to welcome you into our team. I've heard that you're a spectacular player. I hope you'll continue to shine in our team with everybody else, too."

The lack of malicious intent in her voice somehow makes Aritsu feel worse. She regards Rami's extended hand with hesitation, before she raises a hand. A visible tremble shoots through her fingers when she grips onto Rami's palm, giving it a firm shake.

When they let go, Aritsu's hand disappears behind her back. "I'll do my best." she finds herself saying in reply to the captain's expectant look, though she faintly comprehends the fact that her lips are moving to form the words.

This is the girl whose life she had indirectly ruined. Whom her father had tore apart.

Narumi's threatening words echo in her head, parroting into her ears like a brainwashing mantra.

"You're the stinking image of your father, no matter how hard you try to cover it up. You can't pretend away that you're like him, the way you act, the way you put on such a casual smile to mask the pain and suffering you've caused to others for your own selfish desire."

Her hand clenches into a shaking fist behind her back, disgust roiling through her that she ever shook hands with the person whose life she had unraveled in such a casual manner. As if they were close friends, as if there wasn't any bad blood running through them.

As if she deserved to be standing before her, glorifying her volleyball skills that she had nearly stolen away from Rami.

This time, Narumi manages to successfully push past Aritsu. The slam of her shoulder into hers jerks her awake, snapping her head up. Rami is no longer standing in front of her, and the rest of the team has stopped circling them to resume practice.

Only Narumi pauses while walking away from her - stopping for a brief period to mutter the venomous words under her breath, stooping low enough that her lips are right next to her ear, "Rami may have accepted you into the team, but as the setter and the vice captain, I don't."

"And I will keep denying you until you prove to me that you're worthy of being a remarkable spiker, not just any spiker." her eyes darken, angling her head to the side so she's glaring into Aritsu's side. "Consider it your punishment. Work twice harder than the others - just like Rami did, overworking herself to the brink because of your family's sin."

Aritsu flinches when she straightens up and leaves, feeling the brush of her sleeve graze her arm at the movement.

Now she's the only one standing in between the partition of the left and the right side court. On the left, a few shrieks ring out, laughter ringing out when the first years fumble to grasp the new techniques they're taught that have long been engraved into Aritsu. An apologetic cry pierces the air, belonging to Leta who flubs a serve and falls to her knees in apology.

To her right comes cheers and shouts and the slapping of high fives each time a ball lands on either side of the net. There's more organisation in the match now that Rami has joined in, providing clarity among confusion. She leads with direction, grasping the game sense on the court with an astounding understanding cultivated over the lessons pounded into memory.

It's clear where both Rami and Leta belong to their own sides of the court. Aritsu does too, especially with Narumi's warning playing in her mind like a broken recorder.

But standing on the divide amidst the two courts, Aritsu feels that she belongs to none, but the bubble of suppressed emotions spilling over the span of her own hard pressed control.

The most prominent of them being the intense rage that streaks through her, straining against the limits of her self restraint, begging to be released into the wild.

And she decides to allow it triumph over her the second her training draws to an end - all the way home.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚

✧. ┊    SIDE NOTES

; been a bit busy lately trying to rush with my group project assignments and travelling, so i haven't been able to drop this chapter but i'm back so yahooo

; so chapter 7 was just a dump of more aritsu character lore. sorry if it was a little heavy (9.2k words WHAT THE HECK???) i hope it wasn't boring to read i promise akaashi will be mentioned next chapter trust

; introduced three more new characters to the plot - they'll be integral to aritsu in her pain and suffering, as well as growth (insert the cycle of suffering builds character chart here)

; when i wrote rami i was thinking about ushijima and his straight face so just imagine that was the face she was making all the time