#miyuki kazuya imagine

[nume-x]

[celandinee]

.0* ..

…ABDITORY

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ n. a place into which you can disappear.

—

word count - 900

featured - miyuki

warnings - none

note - the effort really just disappeared by the end😭 anyways miyuki is a fav so i just had to write about him

—

Lunch was chaos. The headache-inducing chatter of your classmates was enough to make you avoid the cafeteria all together; finding comfort in the abode you called the school roof.

Overlooking the entirety of the school grounds and watching those that strolled by was a pastime of yours. You would lean against the brick railing that prohibited you from tumbling over, eyes following each person who walked the pathways.

You found comfort in the simplicity. The way every student that walked by acted without inhibition, acting their natural selves.

One person chased a fallen leaf that was caught in the wind; another holding hands with her boyfriend, idly chatting with a grin plastered on her face. It was them in their own world, and you were the omniscient viewer.

It was nice to think solitude was your friend at times like this; that this rooftop was your domain alone to people-watch and eat your lunch in peace. You humored the idea— until the sound of a door swinging open totally stomped it out.

Now Miyuki Kazuya��s pastime was terrorizing you. His intrusion during lunch was one of the many ways he went about it, interrupting the silence you enjoyed with that cocky laugh and a snarky comment.

“What a surprise seeing you here,” Miyuki hummed while he took the place by your side. A lopsided smirk curled on his lips.

The boy had his white sleeves rolled to his elbows as he mimicked you, leaning against the railing casually. One of his hands tugged at the maroon tie around his neck and loosened the material until he felt like he could breath again.

The tilt of tone that hung in his words forced you to look him in the eye— his deep, amber gaze making you feel small as you retorted.

“Very funny, Miyuki. As if you don’t come up here and bother me every day,” your brows furrowed and lips pursed.

What was once your secret haven was now forsaken to the wrath of the second-year.

You couldn’t even remember when he first started sneaking out onto the rooftop; you simply remembered having the place to yourself one day, then Miyuki being there the next. You remembered there being silence once, then nonstop talking in your ear next.

“Do you really have nothing better to do?” you grumbled.

Miyuki stared past his glasses and down at you. The black rimmed specs always failed to hide the way his gaze shone with a gleam you couldn’t quite place, the dancing of gold and brown flecks in his pupils.

He leaned his side closer towards your own, tipping his chin down to be at your eye level, “Not really.”

You found it impossible to look away from him, to break the eye contact. Why were you frozen? You looked like a fool staring at him with wide eyes and parted lips, air resisting to enter your lungs.

Your hands balled into fists, still resting atop the cement, scraping slightly as you turned towards the inconvenience.

“You surely have something to do. Why don’t you eat with your teammates? Aren’t you in the same class as Kuramochi?”

Miyuki remained silent for a moment, merely staring down at you with a relaxed air to him— a more genuine smile growing on his face. Before he spoke, he turned away from you and bent down, hands digging through the backpack that he had tossed at his feet earlier.

Returning back to his normal stance, he revealed what was hidden away in his bag. Two strawberry milk cartons.

Miyuki placed one of them on the railing in front of you, and the other in front of him. The act was so simple, yet so sincere.

“Kuramochi is too loud, my team is too loud,” he answered in a subdued tone. His hands fiddled with the top of the carton, bending the thick layer.

His mood hadn’t totally changed, per se, it seemed to have shifted. The cheeky grin and confident aura moved to a tender smile and comfortable sense.

Only now did you observe the specimen in front of you. The sun caught on his glasses—the gentle breeze played with his thick, ruffled hair. Tanned skin from baseball tried to hide the mild blush that dusted his cheeks.

You snapped out of your musing to grab the milk he gave you. “So you assumed I like strawberry?” you playfully nudged his shoulder with your own.

Maybe you shouldn’t be too hard on Miyuki. Yes, his presence often made you bite your tongue, but he also made little efforts that had you second-guessing your opinion on him.

“I saw you drinking this the other day,” he opened his own drink, tearing the miniature straw’s packaging.

Miyuki Kazuya, the ever observant, calculated catcher he was, of course saw you drinking this.

Perhaps lunches wouldn’t be that terrible with the second-year at your side. Sharing your rooftop wouldn’t be too difficult.

You rolled your eyes as you felt your face heat up, opening the milk as well.

“You’re such a stalker.”

A smooth laugh escaped his lips. His shoulders shook with amusement and leaned down to prod your own as you had done before.

“Maybe.”

—

[jsdhwdmax56]

Lol, Miyuki looking more demonic in Okumura's imagination 😂

[dark-night-hero]

「Talk with Fake Slacker」

↳ ‘In which twin vlogers found themselves featuring a different content featuring the different lives, backgrounds, beginning and maybe even the end of different couples within their new video cencept.’ (intro;ml)

Flashing in the screen was two person who seems to be in the middle of bickering but is currently muted, both male and female looking particularly similar not to be mistaken as a twin, for they are twin. As the camera zooms in, noise was starting to be heard as they seemed to have come by a conclusion and is not looking at the camera with mischievous smiles on their lips. "Sure you guys haven't forgotten about me no? I'm 'Fake'" said the raven haired female twin with violet iris as the camera zoomed at her figure. She was wearing a sleeveless turtleneck, a cargo pants and a combat boots all in black with silver chain accessories all over her neck and wrist. Dark lipstick with her eyeliner and mascara seems to be complimenting her pale skin.

Just then a hand covered her face causing the camera to move into the hand owner direction. "With your face hogging the screen, I doubt they have forgotten your annoying face." A slap on the arm could be heard as well as a slight twitch on his left eye never the less the male twin, the one with the same raven hair but has white strikes on his hair as well as an undercut. He was wearing a polo underneath his plain black sweater with then again plain black pants and heeled boots. He was wearing his usually dog tag, a silver ring on his left middle finger, a silver watch on his wrist as he has his sweater sleeves up into his elbow, he was also wearing his piercings today. "Anyways, I'm 'Slacker' welcome back to our channel" Then the screen went black.

/s: they spend almost two (2) hours in the dressing room getting ready T^T lmao/

Then the two then again appeared on the screen but this time, the twins were separated. 'Fake' was the first one to be shown inside a white cozy type studio, she was seating in of one the two comfortably looking tub seats. Behind them was a cozy indoor fireplace, paintings hanging in the wall giving a soft vibe in the room as well as the noticeable book shelf full of books as well as the pot of plant in the background. In front of the seats were a simple glass coffee table which rigt above it has a steaming hot chocolate in a mug. 'Fake' just sat there silently before the video slowly fades away.

Appearing not to long after that was 'Slacker' was shown to be inside a room much darker in comparison to the previous set up. Given it's dark blue wallpaper, it was giving a different vibe from the first room where 'Fake' was shown to be in. Yet the set up seemed to be similar but instead of paintings and fireplace, an electric guitar could be found in the background. As well as some sports trophies on display as well as a what it seems was a tennis racket on the background. It was also the same tun seat but it was now color blue with the same glass coffee table which has a lukewarm tea sitting on it. Once again, the video faded for a moment.

[Featuring, 'Fake' 'Slacker'. The chaotic duo who often wander into different universe and timeline and likes to make a vlog about finally decided to settle down and?!]

A video appeared on the screen, capturing the left side of the face and figure of 'Slacker' leaning forward, his elbow resting on the arm of the chair he was sitting on, legs spread as he seemed to be staring at the camera ahead, there he was leaning on the palm of his hand before he starts to speak. "To be honest, I found travelling troublesome. It's tiring you know, hoping into different universe from another, mind and body having to adjust on different hours, norms, culture. If I knew this was Leanne's way of travelling I would have never agreed. Still, I must admit. As much as I hate travelling, I love learning about new things." Then the video cuts off.

The camera show the right side figure and face of 'Fake'. Thanks to her hair being held up on a high ponytail, her face could clearly be seen as she too lean forward, eyes shining brightly at the camera ahead, fully unaware of the camera angled on her side. "To be honest, when Leanne offered for us to travel for free by the way, my first thought was awesome! Second was to drag 'Slacker' with me whether he likes it or not, thankfully, he did not seemed to mind at first. Anyways, our point is. At some time, people all over different universe seemed to find our vlog and" there was a /????/ within the subtitles. "Anyways, we suddenly thought that what if instead of just having a travel vlog. Why not make a podcast? Interview? Talks with people, beings all over the universe that we have visited before?"

Once again the screen shows 'Slacker' looking more comfortable as ever. "So we reach out to Leanne, was also our manager by the way. *sensored*. And boom, agreed. Leanne has all sort of connection all over different universe which is honestly... suspicious." He frowns, hand reaching out to rub his chin as he starts blankly at nothing.

"Leanne was really suspicious. No wonder why people call 'em suspicious. Anyway, it has come to is that Leanne has send tons of letters to different people, well couple." 'Fake' laughs before it was cut off. Once again it was black.

[What should the viewers look forward to?]

"We have three contents." One again it was 'Slacker' this time the camera angle was right in front as he lead comfortably in his seat. "All featuring couples with different background and histories." He explained, looking at the camera.

"The first concept is 'Ex and whys'" In the same angle shows 'Fake' exactly on the same position as she was earlier. "This features ex couple, one talks with me and the other with 'Slacker'." She added, a smirk making it's way on her lips. "We will be tasked to asked them questions individually before probably setting them up for one final talks. I am super excited and terrified of this to be honest." She chuckle before leanig back with a sigh. "I cannot wait for this one. It's either gonna be hateful or teary as fuck. But if there is one thing I'm sure is that, it's gonna be fucking emotionally chaotic."

"The second concept is pretty simple. And I think we call it, 'Love Shot'. I don't know who named this concept but this is definitely not me. Who the hel-" the video was cut off as 'Slacker' was about to stood up. "In this we're going to talk with couples in a relationship, of how much they knew well of each other before just like the other concept, have them joined up for a joined talk. Pretty simple no?" He stated and explained. "Though you could say that this could also be a test for them of how well they actually knew each other." He shrugs. "Who knows, maybe they-" cut.

"The third concept was titled 'The one that got away'." 'Fake explained with a bitter smile on her lips. "I honestly think it ws quite tricky. It is not often that people considered each other as their the one thag got away. It was often, I think was just one way thing and never the same way. Because if it was the same then perhaps it should have worked out?" She question, looking genuinely confused. "I'm not really sure since I don't think I have even been in a similar situation before. That's why I found it interesting on how things would go for this one." She admitted, nodding in approval at the camera before it fades away.

[What are your thoughts about this kind of concept?]

"For someone like me who doesn't find love interesting, I think it scares me in a way that I might find myself wanting to be inlove like they have or find myself terrified of falling in love" It was 'Slacker' who showed up and answered first.

[Why?]

"What do you mean why? Why not?" He deadpan and there was a cut off before he was shown to have just finished laughing. "That aside. Why do you think people refuse to fall in love, the other was around for people wanting to fall in love? Either they've been hurt enough, enough to vow to never love again or the other wah around, maybe they just do not want to give up on love and I am somewhere in between, closely o not caring at all about love. One strong opinion and I could easily be pulled on the other side if you get what I mean." He sigh, hands eventually went to brush off his hands on his face. "Why am I doing this?" He asked directly looking at the camera. "I don't know what I'm doing." He admitted. "But the thing is, I think it would be dramatic as fuck."

[What are your thoughts about this kind of concept?]

This time it was 'Fake' seems to be fighting the urge to sit in the way she wanted but eventually manages to hold back and focus on the question. "I think this is something new." She admitted. "It's exciting and kind of nerve-wracking just thinking about it." She added with a chuckle. "I love travelling, but tallking about someone else experience is something... new." She trail off. "I'll try my best to make our guest comfortable and relax." She wink and thumbs up to the camera. "So look forward to this new content."

[See the masterlist below for more info]

Episode one: 'Ex and whys ft. Richard `Dick` Grayson-Wayne and you'

Episode two: 'Love shot ft. Itoshi Sae and you'

Episode three: 'Ex and whys ft. Michael Kaiser and you'

Episode four: 'Love shot ft. Rowan Theodore and you'

Episode five: 'Ex and whys ft. Gojo Satoru and you'

Episode six: 'The one that got away ft. Oikawa Toru and you'

[To be continued...]

[ⓒdark-night-hero] 2024°

[unbiasedfairysworld]

Imagine a MiSawa fanfic in which Miyuki has to make Sawamura fall in love with baseball again...

[kazuyummy]

Do you think Miyuki likes nicknames. I can see Sanada liking them and giving them

Baseball anon ⚾

YOOOOOO this is honestly a great question, i love it haha

sanada: 100% agree he loves nicknames. he would call you angel, love, dear, kitten, honey, bunny, and ALL the names under the sun and bonus points if they fluster you every once in a while. there are times he does it ironically to try and embarrass you but generally he does so unironically cause he's a huge romantic teddy bear whose chest is perfect to rest on :')

miyuki: i think at first he would give you a teasing nickname, perhaps based off of an embarrassing moment or notable quality of yours (physical like glasses or freckles, or attitude-wise - nerdy, tsundere, etc.), only once in a while using something like princess (and only for the purpose of embarrassing you - flustering you is something he and sanada would have in common). BUT one day he slips up and actually calls you something unexpectedly sweet but simple, like "beautiful" or "darling" and SO genuinely that you're both unsure how to react muahahaha

ily baseball anon and i hope you're having a wonderful day 💕 and if not, wishing things get brighter for you! 💫

[iniarya-lux]

Escrevendo sobre o menino Miyuki bonito-kun 🤓

Na verdade isso é uma fanfic que tenho muito tempo na cabeça e precisava escrever. É isso.

Miyuki Kazuya com S/N artista - Headcanons

O primeiro apoiador para as suas artes.

Quer sempre saber de tudo. Se você precisar conversar sobre suas ideias artísticas, vai te ouvir atentamente e te aconselhar.

Sempre te apoia. Você quer seguir com a carreira em desenho, pintura, design etc? Ótimo escolha. Você não quer? Tem outros planos? Ele ficará intrigado, quer saber dos seus planos, mas te apoiará de qualquer forma.

Se você utiliza um sketchbook para desenhar e o leva para a escola, pode esperar para o encontrar bisbilhotando de ponta a ponta. Ou por cima do seu ombro, enquanto você desenha distraidamente, ou quando você o larga sobre a mesa. "Que belo ângulo você teve de mim para esse desenho." Vai te provocar enquanto aponta para o desenho que você fez dele.

Não se importa em ser seu modelo visual, na verdade vai te provocar sobre isso, mas no fundo ele ama.

Te acompanhará em eventos e festivais artísticos.

Encontros em museus e tirando fotos pela cidade.

[miyoooki]

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: He finds out that you’ve been drawing him way too much

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: Miyuki Kazuya x artist!reader, short fluffy drabble, no y/n, Kazuya is annoying, not proofread

a/n - This one is for you @bunndemia

He wonders what could be so damn important on that iPad of yours that you haven’t so much as talked to him this morning. Every time your eyes would meet, you’d quickly look back down at your device, seemingly avoiding him.

Kazuya huffs out, sucks in his pride, and marches over to the bed where you’ve been sitting for an hour or so.

“What’cha got there?”

You failed to notice how quickly he got close to you, practically talking into your ear. It was too late before you could clutch the screen against your chest. You knew he had seen it all with the growing smirk on his face.

“It’s nothing,” you blatantly lie to his face. It only served to make that shit eating grin wider.

He hums. “Pretty sure I saw something there… maybe even a drawing of me?” Kazuya chuckles a bit. “No, I meant to say drawings of me.”

“You’re imagining things.”

As much as you try to gaslight him. There was no escape knowing that you’d been doodling the same person with the same fluffy shaded hair, same black rimmed glasses, and the same charming pout.

“Show it to me then—what you’ve been so busy with.”

You narrow your eyes at him, sensing your impending doom—that doom being relentless teasing coming from none other than your menace of a boyfriend.

But you clutch the device tighter. “I know you’re gonna make fun of me.”

“I won’t.”

“You will though.”

“When have I lied?”

“Are you saying I don’t know you that well?”

“Are you saying I’m a liar?”

“Fine.”

You let him take it from you, not daring to look at this reaction. But curiosity gets the best of you and you slowly pan your gaze to him.

A small smile graced his features. It wasn’t his usual I’m-gonna-annoy-the-heck-out-of-you smile; it was a genuine one.

“Wow… you are obsessed with me huh?”

That makes your brows furrow. “Oh please.”

“Don’t worry,” he reassures you. “I’m obsessed with you too, aren’t I?”

Kazuya looks up at you momentarily with the kind of smile that makes his eyes disappear and small dips form on his cheeks.

Okay. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad idea to show him your stuff.

…

Until he scrolled the canvas.

“Why are there so many sketches of me shirtless?”

Oh. You’ve drawn him so much this morning you forgot about the short period of time your mind strayed to that place…

…

…

“Um… for science?”

miyoooki 2024 | do not copy, repost, translate

[cheswirls]

cannot find anything for ytas even tho i swore i posted a pv at some point over here so instead of ss part of the opening scene like i want (lime green text my beloved) i'm just gonna copy/paste below bc i am in SUCH a daiya pkmn mood rn and i still like where this was going :)

-

Ever Grande is hot and humid, and much less like he remembers from business visits when he was younger. For starters, everything in the League building is normal sized instead of towering over him, and it sucks all the charm out of this place that remained in his memories. It’s less like a magical wonderland and more of a standard office-building-slash-grand-hotel combo. 

Also, again, the weather.

Kazuya tugs on the front of his tee and flaps it to generate some airflow. He thinks not for the first time about removing the compression shirt he has on underneath, but since he knows it’s the only article of clothing he has on wicking his sweat and preventing his shirt from sticking to his skin, he discards the idea once more and absolves himself to grin and bear it.

He’s outside, moving around aimlessly in the courtyard. Seeing as he’d been kicked from the premises, he has little other choice but to wait until he’s called back inside by the man of the hour himself.

He uses the edge of his shirt to clear condensation from his lenses, silently cursing the rising humidity. He’d give anything to be far inland right about now. Kazuya really wasn’t made to endure weather like this, despite having grown up in the region.

He’d left for a reason. (Even if, he knows, the reason had not been related to that.)

Glasses cleaned, Kazuya lets the world slip back into sharp focus. He’s wandered near a small cluster of bright paperflowers, a more common sight on the island than anywhere else in Hoenn. He thinks his mother used to enjoy them, though he couldn’t imagine them surviving out in her hometown, what with all the wind. The hibiscus that grew wild near Ever Grande’s steep cliffs were probably Hoenn’s primary flora, being a staple in most seaside towns while still managing to dot the landscape in the mainland’s interior. 

Shouting draws his attention away from the flowers. Kazuya moves from his easy crouch, hands stuffed lazily in the pockets of his sweatpants. Not much else to do. Might as well investigate.

There are three heavyset men crowding the checkpoint steps that lead to the main doors of the Pokemon League. Trainers, Kazuya hazards a guess, based on their attire and full set of pokeballs brandished at their sides. They take turns shouting at the guard manning the checkpoint, and at this point Kazuya backs off in his approach to circle around the side of the building.

He’s not sure he’ll be recognized in the panic, more likely to be mistaken as another trainer venturing out of Victory Road. So instead, he hikes up the sides until he’s high enough to pass as having come out of the League, then circles back to the front and slowly treks down to the commotion.

“What’s the problem?” he calls down from several steps above. He addresses the guard but garners the attention of all four people present. 

“Miyuki-san!” The guard half-bows in recognition (and probably apology, at not having taken care of this before it garnered notice) and pointedly side-eyes the three trainers when straightening back up. 

Kazuya wonders, then, why he had even been concerned over not getting recognized. Of course that wouldn’t happen. He’s something like a celebrity here in Hoenn, unfortunately.

(He resists a tch on the edge of his lips at being addressed by his surname.)

“These men wanted to enter without all the badges required to challenge the League,” Kazuya is told, and he has to raise his brows at this. “I told them no, of course, but they’re insistent.”

Well. It appears he’s just found the perfect afternoon activity to keep him busy.

His gaze sweeps over the three trainers and he quickly identifies the ringleader. His feet open up until they’re shoulder-length apart, and he sags back into the new position, looking down at them from up high above. “You really think you can challenge Chris without all eight badges?”

His tone is just enough on the edge of mocking and disbelief that it can’t be taken as a genuine question. It does its job, too, riling them all up. They scoff at Kazuya, obviously ruffled, and ignore the guard entirely to focus all their annoyance at him.

“When you’re as good as us, you don’t need proof of a gym circuit challenge! It’s a waste of time when we’re ready for the bigshots as we are now.” The one in the middle speaks, both hands on his hips to show the girth of his arms. The two on either side of him nod in agreement.

“Who even are you, anyway?” one of them calls up to Kazuya. “The gatekeeper?”

“Sure!” He keeps himself playful, posture open. Pitching his voice so his answer implies more let’s go with that instead of you guessed correctly. It makes a vein bulge on the guy’s forehead, and Kazuya works his lips into a wide grin to keep it there. He raises one hand, pokeball held between three fingers, and makes quick work in clicking it to full size. “Come on, then. Let’s see what you got.”

He smirks, letting it stretch all the way to the ends of his cheeks. He hadn’t called out any one of them specifically, but they all brandish pokeballs of their own in quick succession. Perfect. He’ll take them on all at once or knock them down one after the other. A perfect challenge to get his blood pumping, and an even more perfect distraction to the mess that waits just inside the grand building he’s chosen to guard.

He tilts the pokeball backwards and lets it fall open. It releases his Corviknight behind his right shoulder, looming even taller than usual with its position higher up the staircase. “Beat Chris? Hah! I bet you can’t even beat me!”

[koushuwu]

I actually need to know this, but is miyuki the kind of person to climb in someone's window 😭 it's giving mochi instead but I was having an idea

hi darling! well. to me i think it depends a lot. i imagine that a childhood bestfriend version of kazuya would definitely do it very casually. in a romantic setting though, i feel like— hmm. i don’t see him doing it as casually as in a solely platonic setting. but maybe if he’d somehow pissed you off or upset you, and you weren’t picking up your phone or letting him in, i could definitely see it too. i agree that is very much a mochi vibe, but under the right circumstances, i definitely think kazuya could do it too!

also hi, hello, you had an idea? if you would want to share, i would love to hear about it 👁️

[mangoisms]

wolves without teeth ━ miyuki kazuya

━ chapter two: need something that i can confess (’til all my sleeves are stained red) / read chapter one

━ word count: 6.2k

━ warnings: none

━ masterpost

You knew your day wasn’t going to be great. The drone and then the third degree you suffered during lunch proved that. At least things were fine in the city but this — being face to face with the one person who knows you the best, the one person who could probably figure out who you are…

It’s not great.

You jump to your feet. Too quickly, you guess, by the way he tenses and takes several steps back, eyeing you warily. 

You can only imagine what you must look like to him. 

You didn’t take after Spider-Man’s red and blue color scheme, opting for black and white — mostly black. The mask is the same, with the big white eyes, and then a hood over that. Despite working hard to be the ‘friendly neighborhood Spider-Woman,’ you still use your slightly-creepy appearance (at night anyway) and powers to your advantage. Delphi says you look like an eldritch creature sometimes. 

With the low lighting in the neighborhood and the full moon above your heads, you understand his unease.

Still. You would rather die than ever hurt him.

Miyuki Kazuya. Your best friend. You’ve known him for over sixteen years. You’ve been with him through everything. 

Everything.

And the way he looks at you now, not like his best friend, but a stranger, a dangerous stranger… something inside you crumples.

Your chest feels heavy, each breath, each beat of your heart harder than the last. 

Your fingers twitch to unmask, to reveal yourself and say, Don’t look at me like that. You know who I am. You know me. Everything about me. I would never hurt you. Never.

You’ve avoided seeing the others like this. Mostly because you fear they might recognize you, the shape of your body, the way you move. 

You avoid Kazuya for the same reasons. And you knew, if you ever did stumble into him, you two wouldn’t exactly be buddy-buddy. But thinking that and actually being faced with it are two different things. This hostility. This guarded expression, this distrust — it hurts more than you would like to admit. Even if you should know better and should’ve realized it, that the others would regard you with wonder and amazement but not him. Never him.

You know why he doesn’t like her.

Spider-Woman, you mean.

He sees you as trouble. 

Not the good kind, either, not the kind that comes in the form of a hot-headed, passionate Southpaw pitcher with a moving fastball, with a pitching style just waiting to be turned into something great. Not a tricky batter he has to figure out how to strike out, not a pitcher he has to break down. 

You are none of that.

You are the kind of trouble that brings danger, bad luck, and misfortune. You are the kind of trouble that would put his life in danger.

“Well?”

You shake your head quickly.

“No? No to what? No to leaving?”

You open your mouth. The back of your neck explodes into tingles no don’t say anything don’t open your mouth he will know hewillknow —

Stop. Stop. Just stop. 

Your heart pounds too hard in your chest. You feel cast ashore. Struggling to get your head above the water. 

A dog barks somewhere in the distance, a cat yowls, getting into a fight with another, a few houses down, someone’s garage is opening, next door, the son and daughter of the couple there start to argue, in front of you, Kazuya shifts, a hand floating to the pocket of his pants, where his phone is —

No.

Everything comes back into focus. The extra information fades to the back of your mind. Kept in range but not your primary concern in this moment.

Your primary concern in this moment is him. And you know, you should’ve realized it, but you cannot talk. He would know instantly. He would recognize your voice. 

Sixteen years. You’ve been friends for sixteen years. 

If your roles were reversed, if he ended up like you right now, you think you’d recognize his voice. You would recognize it anywhere.

And you know it’s the same for him.

So, you shake your head again, then fold your index, middle, and ring fingers to your palm, leaving your pinky and thumb out. You point at it, then shake your head. Don’t call the cops.

He wouldn’t. It was just a bluff. But how can Spider-Woman know that?

“Oh, come on,” he scoffs. “I know you can talk. People have heard you. That’s how you got the media to call you that ridiculous name.”

Now that’s just uncalled for!

Sorry. Focus.

You shrug at him, shaking your head.

He sighs. “Whatever, I guess. I don’t really care. Could you leave?”

You should.

You really should. 

But your feet stay on the ground. You place a hand on your chest, chest heaving breaths for a moment, then using both of your hands to gesture downward, shoulders raising sheepishly. Just a few minutes to rest. Please?

Kazuya narrows his eyes. “You can’t do that on anyone else’s roof?”

A shrug. Then you clasp your hands together in another imploring gesture. 

He watches you for a second, arms still crossed tightly over his chest, every inch of his body language defensive. 

And for a reason you aren’t sure of, even after being friends with him for so long, he says, “Fine.”

But then he turns, heading for the small hatch. The hatch is in his room instead of the hall. You noticed when moving in and the owner didn’t have much to say for explaining why. None of you ever come up here because it’s kind of dangerous — completely flat without anything running along the perimeter. A simple stumble could have you falling over the side. You don’t know why Kazuya is up here but… what you do know is that he is about to leave you here alone and something like disappointment bubbles in your chest.

You aren’t sure what you were expecting. For him to stay up here and make small talk? Ask about your day? You can’t even talk around him.

So, you watch him go, disappearing back into the house. When the hatch is firmly shut and locked, you collapse onto the ground, dropping your head into your hands.

“Stupid,” you whisper to yourself. “So stupid.”

You let yourself wallow in self-pity for a few minutes before getting up. You’ll make a circuit of the neighborhood then come back. As yourself, not Spider-Woman.

Not much goes on here. A few teenagers playing a night game of soccer. They cheer when they see you, yelling out greetings. You make sure to wave back before you go. You have to make a quick escape when you glimpse a police car slowly patrolling the neighborhood.

Did he…?

No. He didn’t. He couldn’t have. He would never.

Others must have seen you and called it in. The older ones, probably, who disapprove of your actions. 

You brush off the thoughts and land in an alley near the house; a couple cats, including the newly-returned Momo, hiss at you. They usually crawl into the house’s tiny backyard through a small hole in the fence and that’s where you and Eijun feed them breakfast and dinner. 

“Aw, you know who I am. Don’t be like that,” you say, kneeling and extending your hand to her. Her emerald green eyes flash in the night. She hisses and swipes a paw at you. 

“Man, I can’t get a break,” you mutter, standing and, after ensuring no one can see you, vaulting over the fence and climbing up to your room where you quickly and quietly change into your normal clothes. You do your best to fix your appearance, then you grab your bag, drop back down, and come around the street. Terribly complicated, you know, but like always, Kazuya throws a wrench in your plans.

When you enter, you expect to find Kazuya in the kitchen or living room, but he isn’t. You frown, kicking off your shoes in the genkan, and slipping further inside. Eijun and Wakana’s bedrooms are down here and he has no business being there. 

You let yourself tune into your senses. Next door is quiet by now. So are most of the houses around. Movement upstairs. He’s here.

Like a thread connecting you two, your senses easily hone in on him, your feet leading you to his bedroom, where you push open the door and pause in the doorway as you see him climbing back down from the hatch.

“Kazuya?”

“Jesus —”

He jumps, nearly missing the last step to the ground. Every muscle in you wants to jump forward to steady him but you withhold it, seeing him regain his balance with a few well-placed expletives under his breath, feet back safely on the wood floors.

“Seriously, you have to stop doing that,” he complains, a petulant expression on his face as he turns to look at you, closing the hatch behind him.

“Sorry,” you say, meaning it. Sometimes you forget how quiet you are these days and scare the shit out of him (and the others) on accident. But to be fair, he does the same to you. 

You glance between him and the hatch, watching him stretch to his toes to lock it. 

“What were you doing up on the roof?” You don’t even have to pretend to be mystified. 

Was he… No, he was probably just checking. Just making sure you’d left eventually. Else a well-placed threat for calling the cops would come again, you’re sure. 

But you still wait with bated breath for his answer. What will he say? Will he tell you the truth? Complain about how ‘Spider-Girl’ took up post on the roof? Probably say something about making her pay rent if she keeps coming?

You get your answer in the next moment.

“Just thought I heard something.”

You laugh. It feels a little breathless. There’s no way. “Like what?”

He shrugs. “Dunno. Maybe the cats got up there. But I didn’t see anything. It’s nothing, I guess.”

You latch onto the opportunity for distraction. “The cats —”

He holds up a hand, stepping around you to go back downstairs. “Relax, I already fed them.”

“Thank you.”

He waves it off. You follow him distractedly.

He lied. Kazuya lied to you. No mention of Spider-Woman. You’d have believed it, too, were it not for the fact that your senses are particularly tuned for that kind of thing and, well, you had quite literally been there.

Why did he lie?

You struggle to decide on whether that’s a good thing or a bad thing. 

Man, who are you kidding? You know the answer to that.

Hope blossoms in your chest. Could you make him like Spider-Woman? Or at the very least tolerant? He lied — to you. His best friend. You wouldn’t have reacted negatively to hearing about it. Not at all. And yet…

You don’t know. But a part of you wants to believe that this could be hope. 

“Are you hungry?” he asks, opening the door to the fridge.

You blink, coming back to yourself. “Am I — oh. You know the answer to that. I’m —”

“Always hungry,” he finishes, chuckling. “Are you sure you’re not pregnant?”

“Kazuya!”

He just laughs. It’s impossible for you not to smile at the sound, warmth unspooling in your chest. That heavy feeling is back again but it’s sweet, full of honey-thick warmth. 

God, you’re so…

He tosses a grin over his shoulder, amber brown eyes twinkling with mirth. Nothing like earlier. He is open to you, warm. This is how it should be.

“I’m not pregnant,” you grumble, though the effect is negated by the way your lips twitch. 

“It’s okay if you are!”

“Shut up! I’m not!” 

This is from a few months ago, when they’d all noticed your increased food intake; all of them were admittedly concerned about it and theorizing on their own as to why. Kuramochi was the one who had to bite the bullet and ask if you were pregnant, since that was the only feasible explanation they could come up with. (Kazuya privately insists he knew better but went along with it, anyway; you think he’s a big fat liar.)

While embarrassing, as you had to stammer through a firm denial that you were not pregnant — you hadn’t been with someone since last year — it was better than them concluding you were Spider-Woman. 

Kazuya shuts the fridge door with his hip, turning, hands settling on your shoulders, squeezing, a mock earnest look on his face.

“We’d help, you know. With the appointments… and then after… it’d really be more economical.”

“Help? God save a child raised by the funky bunch of idiots.”

He throws his head back and laughs. You push his chest gently, face warming at his proximity. He smells like cinnamon. 

Though you’re pushing him away, the urge to grab him and bury your face in his chest is monumental, like a tsunami crashing into you. 

You’re strong enough to lift a car and then some but in moments like these, you feel so weak.

Especially as his hand comes to your cheek, eyes narrowing at something on your face.

“Huh,” he says, reaching up to pull the band-aid on the cut on your temple free. “This looks… a lot better than earlier.”

Shit. You’d forgotten about that.

The skin is no longer red and irritated and the cut itself is scabbed over. That’s the healing factor. Great for when it comes to nastier injuries, that way you’re not hobbling around and making the others suspicious, but for the smaller stuff, the ones they notice… not great. You usually have to do some makeup magic so as to not raise alarm. 

“It feels better,” you quickly say. “Probably because of that ointment you put on it.”

“Huh.”

Your stomach rumbles at that moment, saving you as he snickers.

“Come on,” you needle him, turning him around to face the kitchen, pushing him towards the stove. “I’m hungry.”

“Make your own food!”

“Aw, but it’s never as good as yours!”

“Kiss-ass,” he mutters, turning towards the pantry to grab a bag of rice. “Fine. Go find something for us to watch.”

That’s better. You drop a kiss to his shoulder then turn away quickly. You used to be able to do things like that without a second thought. These days…

You shake your head, stepping into the living room and picking up the remote.

“What are you in the mood for?”

He blows out a breath. “To see some other people make bad decisions.”

Bad decisions, huh?

You watch his back for a moment. He moves fluidly in the kitchen, hands opening cabinets mindlessly, everything second-nature to him by this point. You remember what it used to be like, him bumbling through every move but it was necessary, because his dad wasn’t doing anything to help cook or take care of the house or the bills and you and your parents wouldn’t learn about this for a few months, but when they did, when they did, oh, they were furious. 

Your mom had you take him out of the house, so she and your dad could talk to Miyuki Kazushi — well, talk is generous. Whatever they said that day dissolved any remaining relations between your parents but he picked up his slack. Most of it. 

Kazuya still took the reins on the food. He refused to let it go. You think it was his way of coping with his mom’s death and his dad’s distance.

Now, it’s one of the main ways he takes care of the ones he loves.

You would know.

You don’t come back to the house the next day.

It’s too soon. And who knows if he is even out there?

All of this is just… wishful thinking and though you hope, you know you cannot let yourself get carried away with trying to win his approval. It might only hurt you more in the long run. 

Not to mention, this is a line you logically know you should not cross. 

You won’t.

“You better not write that in any language other than Japanese!”

“Leave me alone! I get to write my wish in any language I please!”

An arm slides around your shoulders. Kazuya pulls you into his side and he uses his other hand to try and steal the pen from you.

You grin, wiggling out of his grasp. 

“Seriously,” he whines. “First, you pick out white and you won’t tell me why. Now, you want to write your wish in a language I don’t understand.” His fingers find a ticklish spot at your ribs, above the obi tied into a bow on the right side of your waist. 

You giggle, jerking away from him. “Stop that! It’s nothing, Kazuya. I mean, it’s just… you know. We’re graduating soon.”

He rolls his eyes. “Next year.”

“This is still our last year.”

“Well, still. It’s not like we have anything to worry about.” He pulls you into his side again and the two of you step away from the vendor handing out the tanzaku in the usual five colors — purple, red, blue, yellow, and white. 

Bodies shuffle up and down the street. Hiratsuka is bustling with activity tonight, the start of the weekend for Tanabata. Located a prefecture over in Kanagawa, the five of you had jumped on the Shinkansen earlier, taking the hour and a half ride from Toshima to Hiratsuka Station, where the festival is centered around the shopping street on the north side of the station.

It’s… a lot on your senses. But there is no trouble here. Focusing on Kazuya helps.

Warm lights illuminate the street, the sun already below the horizon, most of the sky midnight blue with sparse smudges of deep purple and red. 

Above your head, decorations flutter in the breeze, glowing lanterns and fukinagashi, streamers representing threads for those wanting to be better weavers, gossamer amikazari symbolizing wishes by fishermen for full nets, hanging kinchaku bags for prosperity, and orizuru for longevity. 

You still have distant memories of your first Tanabata, when you were six. His mom was sick by that point and his dad was worried sick. In the hopes of distracting him, your parents brought the two of you to the festival, along with your siblings. 

You remember taking turns being carried on your dad’s shoulders, the tepid heat of the July evening, colorful decorations fully engaging your attention as they fluttered above your heads and even tickled your face a few times, when you came up on lower-hanging ones. 

Stage productions of the tale of Orihime and Hikoboshi regaling you while you feasted on yakitori, chicken skewers with soy sauce and karashi, and takoyaki, batter fried balls with pieces of octopus, tenkasu, pickled ginger, and onion, slathered with mayonnaise. For dessert, mitarashi dango, dumplings made from rice flour, grilled, then coated with a sweet soy glaze, and imagawayaki, a stuffed pancake-like sweet filled with custard. 

You wrote your wishes together that year. A wish shared — for Miyuki Mayumi to get better, to beat the pancreatic cancer killing her.

In the end, it would not come true.

But Tanabata remains one of your favorite holidays. Kazuya never accompanied you and your family again after that, but after high school, he started to come around again.

This year is more special, though. The five of you have made it a tradition to visit the festival when it came around, most often in Tokyo; but you and Kazuya will be leaving after graduation next year, to… well, you don’t know yet. The NPB is going to try their best to lure him to stay here a couple years and the MLB is gearing to snatch him up as soon as the draft opens. 

But regardless of where he’ll end up, you’ll be with him. You two are a package deal. If you stay here, you’ll help the team as an interpreter for the international players. If you cross the pacific, you’ll be his interpreter. 

(That’s another story for another time, but it wasn’t a conclusion you two had to come easily or quickly at all.)

So, you’re here in Hiratsuka, Kanagawa, at the Shonan Hiratsuka Tanabata Festival, one of the largest in the country. Most years, you guys didn’t dress up, but this year, at your behest, all of you did. 

You adjust your hold on the tanzaku and the pen. Your nails, freshly painted midnight blue, glint under the lights; your toes match since you’d be in sandals. The color coincidentally goes with the dark blue yukata Kazuya wears, the color flattering his light brown skin. The obi around his hips — that you’d tied for him — is white. Your yukata is pale blue, with patterns of lilies, the obi dark blue. Your makeup and hair are done, the most done up you’ve been in a while with school and your nightly escapades. 

Haruichi, Furuya, and several other old classmates had come out here, too, but you’ve all split up by this point. You’ll meet again for the fireworks. 

Kazuya nudges you over to a bamboo tree with some space left for your tanzaku. 

“Let me go first,” you say, reluctantly stepping out of his embrace and motioning for him to turn around so you could use him to write out your wish.

“It better be in Japanese,” he threatens, turning obligingly. “Like I said, it’s bad enough you’re going with white instead of yellow.”

“And what about you, huh? You never pick yellow. It’s always white! Why can’t I do white this year and why do you get to do yellow?”

“I have my reasons!”

“Well, so do I,” you laugh, clicking the pen and splaying out the white strip against his back. Despite his blustering about your color choice, he bends forward a little, helping you write easier.

Just like the idea of hanging up tanzaku on bamboo trees is supposed to help wishes come true, the color of the tanzaku has certain meanings as well. You’ve always used yellow, the color of friendship and also helpful for wishes about relationships. Now, this year, after everything, you’ve picked out white, a color for determination and responsibility. 

Kazuya used to pick that one, too. For baseball, obviously. Now, he’s picked yellow. You don’t know why but you can guess even he is feeling it, the impending separation from your friend group. Kuramochi is staying here to go to grad school for social work and Wakana and Eijun have one more year to go as well. It’s just the two of you that might be leaving. 

You know why you picked white. You need the hope, a wish for determination and responsibility to keep you on track, to keep others safe, but more importantly…

Keep my friends and family safe. 

You don’t know what you’d do if anything happened to them because of Spider-Woman.

You really don’t.

You tap his shoulder and he straightens, turning around to take the pen from you. You turn around to return the favor and also hang it up on the tree, finding a branch level with your chest and tying the tanzaku there. You feel the pressure of Kazuya holding down the strip against your shoulder, the pen moving quickly, then nothing.

You turn.

“No looking!”

“Aw, why not?”

He shoves your face away when you try to see what he’s written. You giggle, batting away his hand. 

He glares at you but it holds little heat. “Don’t ask me that, you menace — you wrote yours in German!” He stabs the pen in the direction of yours, swaying in the breeze, blue ink glistening in the aforementioned language.

You laugh at that for a while. 

You’re still giggling when he finishes tying his and quickly turns you away from the tree before you can get a glimpse of it. 

“You learn a couple languages and you get unbearable,” he says, mock disappointed, shaking his head.

“It’s good practice!”

“As if you need practice.”

“Is that a compliment?”

“Well, I have to make sure I don’t run you off before I get to the US.”

“Run me off? Miyuki Kazuya, don’t insult me!” You point at him threateningly. “You’re stuck with me until we die, you hear me, mister? And then after, too!”

He grins, throwing an arm around your shoulder as you start walking again. “So, my luck holds. I’m happy to hear it.”

“Yeah, I bet you are.” You bump your hip against his. “You owe me dango for that comment.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, alright. Let’s find some.”

You come up on a stall near one of the stage productions. While Kazuya gets in line for it, you find yourself drifting toward the assembled crowd of people, mostly kids. 

You watch, a small smile tugging at your lips as the actors tell the folktale of Orihime, a gifted weaver, and Hikoboshi, a hard-working cow herder.

The story goes that after Orihime and Hikoboshi were wed, they were so in love, they began to neglect their duties. In doing so, they incurred the wrath of Orihime’s father, Tentei, the emperor of heaven. To punish them, they were exiled to separate ends of the Milky Way. They can only meet on the seventh day of the seventh month of the year, provided they are diligent in their obligations throughout the rest of the year. It’s based off real constellations, with Orihime being Vega and Hikoboshi being Altair. It’s one of your favorite tales. 

Kazuya appears at your side at one point, scaring you slightly when you realize he’s next to you.

He snickers. “Here.” He passes you a skewer with dango, golden brown and glistening. 

“Thank you,” you say, pulling off the first dumpling into your mouth. You nod towards the set-up, the narrator now connecting the story to the celebration of Tanabata. “You remember this?”

“The usual tragic love story. Sure.”

“It’s romantic.”

“Is it?” he asks, just to annoy you, you’re sure. You still offer him the dango, anyway.

“Yes, it is.”

“To you, maybe,” he chuckles, leaning forward to take the second piece of dango into his mouth. “I just think it’s proof that love makes you stupid.”

You pull the skewer back sharply, narrowing your eyes at him. “Love… is the most important thing in the world, Miyuki Kazuya.”

He looks down at you, lips quirked; the warm lights of the street turn his eyes chocolate brown, so easy to get lost into. 

“Is it?”

You tilt your head. “You love me, don’t you?”

Feelings like those always come heavy. Especially when it comes to him. Not easily spoken, not easily found, it always threatens to suffocate you when it does come up. Like now. 

He’s close enough for you to smell cinnamon, overlayed by the smell of sweet fried foods. Everything else fuzzes out. Your senses stop whispering about the others around you, the police stationed throughout the street, the potential dangers of those closest to you. 

Everything is always so much easier with him. A balm to the rest of the world. The only time you get to breathe, when things go quiet, and it’s just you, a girl in love with her best friend, crushed by the knowledge that he loves you, too. Just… in a different way.

The quirk of Kazuya’s lips eases into something softer, something more tender. A small thing, but no less brilliant, no less breathtaking, his eyes crinkling with it, looking down at you with a familiar affection that punches the air out of you like it usually does when he looks so openly at you.

“That is true,” he says softly.

Honey-thick warmth wells up in your chest, clogging your lungs and the arteries of your heart. Moments like these you can hardly believe you get the privilege of seeing that openness. But you also know it’s sixteen years of work, of friendship, of time spent together and of fights resolved. 

You’re so lucky to be here. So lucky. 

The thought overwhelms you, especially as you say, “And I love you.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just looks at you. 

You look away first. “That’s not stupid, is it?”

His hand finds yours, catcher’s callouses ticklish against the softer skin of your palms; he squeezes gently. “No. It’s not.”

You look back at the set-up. “Love does make people do foolish things. But it’s love. That distinction matters more than anything else. Maybe it doesn’t work out but the love was there, wasn’t it? It still is.”

You wonder, who are you talking about? Orihime and Hikoboshi or yourselves? You aren’t so different from them. The thing is, their love was returned. They loved too much. And you… well. The ending of that story hasn’t been written yet, has it?

Not yet.

After you finish your dango, the two of you head for the meet-up point with the others, at a small park on the other side of the street, where you’ll wait and watch the fireworks. 

You and Kazuya are the first to arrive and he excuses himself to the restroom for the moment, leaving you to lean against a large tree, branches decorated with tanzaku. A warm breeze flutters through your hair. 

You people-watch for a little bit, smiling softly as you watch excited kids drag tired-looking parents around to find good spots for the fireworks, teenagers chattering together happily, moving in groups of three or more, and older couples, alone, traversing calmly, just happy to be here with each other. 

But though your attention is on them, you still feel the slightest prickle at the back of your neck. Not a tingling sensation that tells you danger imminent, no, it’s not danger, per se, but rather —

“BOO!”

You smile. “Hey, Sachiko. What’d you guys get up to?”

Kuramochi’s familiar laugh fills the air. “I told you! She’s impossible to scare these days!”

Umemoto Sachiko, one of the old managers for Seido in your year, scowls, glaring a little at you. “What’s your secret?! That was a great scare!”

“Eh, it was okay,” Kuramochi says.

“You don’t get to talk because even you said you can’t scare her these days.”

You laugh. “There’s no secret. I’d say Mochi’s just ruined it for himself and others by scaring me too often. I’m vigilant these days.”

Heh. Vigilant.

Sachiko swats at his shoulder, grumbling. “Great job, Kuramochi. Great job.”

It’s him, Sachiko, Natsukawa Yui, the other old manager in your year, Wakana, Shirasu, and Nori. 

Sachiko and Yui only really came for you. Whenever you spared the time to visit the club, they — and your old senpai, Fujiwara, and your old kouhai, Haruno — often hung out with you. Said it was nice to talk to someone from the ‘outside.’ Sachiko is a diehard baseball fan, sure, but even they felt the lag sometimes. Being a manager was often a thankless job — at least in high school and college. That’s why you stayed away.

Well, that, and you weren’t that interested in it, anyway.

Kazuya had made the mistake of assuming you’d take up the position when you two started Seido. It had been one of your nastier arguments, mostly because you didn’t want to be a manager. You wanted to join the cheerleading team. And when he learned that, he said — That’s basically the same thing, isn’t it? 

As a matter of fact, no, it was not — the cheerleading team did cheer for the baseball games but they did for the soccer games, and they had their own meets, too.

To which he said — There’s actual competitions for cheerleading?

You didn’t talk to him for a month after that.

You’ve always supported him in his baseball endeavors. Even when he was being a weirdo about it, like when he came sprinting to you after a game against Chris-senpai’s old junior high league, raving about how he was going to go to Seido and challenge him since he was the only catcher Kazuya ever lost against. Of course, that didn’t pan out but still. You’ve always been there for him. 

But… you didn’t want to be a manager, someone relegated to the sidelines of his story. You wanted to have your own thing, too. Sure, maybe you could’ve shined enough as a manager but… on the cheerleading team, it was entirely separate. The Seido cheer club was one of the best in the Kanto region. They consistently won meets and competitions — more than Inashiro, who were really only a baseball powerhouse. You’d liked cheerleading since you were a kid. Even with all the stereotypes around it, mostly because you knew they were just that — stereotypes. Falsities. Everyone in the cheer club at Seido was kind to you and the same could be said about Waseda’s cheer club. 

Sure, in high school, you encountered a couple girls who were particularly nasty, believing this to be some kind of trashy American movie where they could be the main characters, but for the most part, it was fun. 

Kazuya understood eventually and apologized to you. Really apologized. You suspect even to this day, he feels guilty about undermining you like that. 

You still miss it now, six months after quitting. But it was too dangerous at the time. You didn’t know your own strength. If you’d kept going, you’re sure you would’ve hurt someone. Or worse. 

“So, how are things in school?” Yui asks, a warm smile on her lips. 

“Miyuki is as annoying as ever, I assume?” Sachiko tacks on. Yui makes a noise of agreement. 

You grin. “As ever. Things are good. Little weird but good.”

“Is it true you quit the cheerleading team?” Sachiko asks next, head tilting. 

You grimace. “Ah, yeah…”

“I get it,” Yui says. “I’m glad baseball activities are over by now, since it’s the last month before the term ends.”

Sachiko nods firmly. “More time to focus on your grades! Gotta make sure those Americans have no choice but to employ you!”

You laugh, relaxing, pleased they understand — that they are supportive. You understand the others’ concern but… you’d prefer this. You can’t go back on your decision so, all that there is left to do is look forward. 

“Ah, that’s exciting,” Yui sighs, a little wistful. “I’d love to go overseas.”

“Once I start making money, I’ll fly you guys out.”

They beam. 

You ask about them, how their studies are going. Yui goes to Meiji and Sachiko goes to the University of Tokyo. The former is studying chemistry to go into pharmaceuticals and the latter is doing sports medicine, intent on continuing to work with baseball but in a much more important (and recognized) position. They’ll be graduating next year in March, too, just like you, Kazuya, and Kuramochi.

“ARE WE LATE?!” Eijun’s boisterous voice interrupts your conversation. 

“We’re not late, idiot!” comes Kanemaru’s familiar bark; all of you turn, seeing him, Eijun, Haruichi, and Furuya join your group. “If we were late — we’d know.”

“Well, how do you know that?!”

“We’d be hearing the fireworks already, Sawamura,” he says, exasperated. “They haven’t gone off. So, no, we’re not late.”

“Excellent!” He turns and beams at all of you. “Hello, senpai! It’s great to see all of you!”

“You saw us earlier,” Nori points out, amusement tinging his voice.

Eijun pouts. “Well, I started missing everyone when we got split up!”

Kuramochi gets him into a headlock. “Stop being sappy!”

“Just like high school, huh?” Warm breath tickles your ear.

You squeak, jumping.

Kazuya laughs.

“Oi!” Sachiko complains. “Why does he scare you?”

A heavy arm slings over your shoulders. Kazuya smirks at her. “It’s just different between us. You wouldn’t understand.”

Kuramochi releases Eijun, who stumbles away, Haruichi steadying him with a small smile on his lips.

He looks at Shirasu and Nori, huffing. “See what I have to deal with?”

Kazuya laughs again — even when they (and most of the others) agree. 

The first pop of fireworks scares them. Everyone had lost track of time. But soon enough, you’re all turning your eyes skyward, chatter falling quiet as fireworks pop in the sky. Blue, green, red, an assortment of colors illuminating the streets and faces of those watching.

Kazuya moves behind you, tugging you into his chest, arms locking around your waist while he leans his chin on your head. The night is warm but you feel warmer, Kazuya a long line of heat against your back. Like always, being in such close proximity calms your senses. You relax. His arms tighten, a gentle squeeze, something like There you go.

This is what you’re trying to protect.

Exactly this.

[heroesfan101]

Y’wanna talk about it, lovely? 👀👀👀

Yes please! Don't mind if I do. It's this guy right here. Headcanon/Brainrot incoming!

As hot as he is and as easy as it would be for me to jump his bones, we both like to take our time with things but Kazuya more so. He wants something that's going to really last.

Behind all the snarky jokes and cool guy act, he's actually pretty sensitive but refuses to show it. He's worried about being left or hurt so he wants to make sure it's end game.

I imagine being by his side. Still busy with my job but making time to attend his games (wearing his jersey ofc) and making him honey lemons.

One of the senior members on the team playfully starts it. It probably goes something like this:

"Ah Miyuki, what are we going to do with you? When are you going to lock her down?"

Before he can even play it cool, others are chiming in, noting how I make most games and even took time away and moved in to care from him when he got injured.

Suddenly, everything just kind of clicks in place and for once he gets a little flustered. Luckily, the captain comes to his defense with a reassuring clap on the back.

"Follow your heart, Miyuki."

From there, he starts planning the most amazing proposal that weekend. Books us a nice fancy dinner downtown and before we can head out, he runs back into our apartment to quickly set up for when we get back (even though Sawamura offered his help, Miyuki would rather do it himself 😤).

Dinner goes well and I can tell something is slightly off but I don't think to question it. When we go back home, I smile and go to pour us a glass of wine giving him enough time to light the candles. I come up with the wine, expecting a chill night.

Seeing the candles and rose petals in the shape of a heart, I nearly drop the glasses but luckily he's quick to cover my hands and set them down on the dresser.

I'm damn near crying before he says anything, prompting a light wise crack remark. The proposal is super sweet and Kazuya really spills his heart out and it's pretty emotional for the both of us.

Saying yes was the easiest thing I've ever done in life. We seal it with a kiss, then two, then three before I whisper, "Take me to bed, I'm yours."

The possessiveness of that word, "yours", really did something for him.

"Mine." He replied before carrying me to bed.

When I tell you it was so hot. To be able to take your time with someone and love them in such an intimate way, knowing that they're your forever is just so invigorating. The joys of getting to discover new parts of them, over and over and over again.

Kazuya is still certainly a tease but at least he can take as good as he gives. We go well into the night and a little bit the following morning, absolutely insatiable.

Needless to say when he goes to practice on Monday, congratulations from the team are clearly in order. And he couldn't be any happier.

[celandinee]

… o°

CHRYSALISM

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ n. the amniotic tranquility of being indoors during a thunderstorm

—

word count - 600

featured - kuramochi, miyuki

warnings - none

note - trying smth new with the cheesy words + definitions 🙌

—

At the front of the classroom, your teacher droned on about a new unit of chemistry while sliding a piece of chalk across the blackboard, the grating, piercing sound nearly overpowering his monotone voice.

After glancing up at the clock every 5 minutes, you came to the conclusion that the hour left of class would only pass by slower with each check of the time. You swore this class went by in slow motion.

Sparing a glimpse over at the window next to you, you found the sky to be dark and a grey cast set over the school grounds. The little drizzle outside would soon turn in to heavy rain, apparent in the way the clouds darkened. You hadn’t expected the weather to change so quickly— only this morning had the sun been bright overhead as you made your trek to school. 

You didn’t mind the rain. As long as you had an umbrella for when school was over, you felt that there was not much of an issue.

“Why’d it have to rain today of all days…”

It seemed that your desk mate felt quite the opposite.

Kuramochi Youchi was a character, of sorts. He was a great person to talk to during breaks, his easygoing nature rather contagious. On the contrary, he was the worst lab partner. He hardly ever kept up with the class, instead, taking to copying your notes whenever the teacher wasn’t paying attention. It wasn’t that you minded the copying— it was the fact that you barely knew what was going on in the class yourself.

A smirk formed on your lips as you turned to him, whispering just loud enough for him to hear, “Not much of a rain person?”

“That, and our practice is all outside today. No indoor training. I’m gonna catch a cold, no doubt about that.”

Kuramochi grumbled away, brows furrowed and nose wrinkled while he continued to complain. This happened often, he would forget he was talking to you and begin to simply talk to himself.

It appeared that your whispers weren’t quiet enough because a cheeky voice suddenly started behind the both of you.

“Quit your complaining, Kuramochi. If Coach finds out, he’ll for sure have you run laps out in the rain,” Miyuki snickered from his seat.

You swore, those two always found a way to make baseball the topic of discussion.

When Kuramochi turned to retort, you found yourself zoning out again with the side of your head resting in your folded arms on the desk. You stared out of the window once again, noting that the sky had become gloomier and rain was beginning to fall.

The strumming sound of rain against the roof was rhythmic, calming. You no longer hearkened the words of your teacher, nor the back and forth conversation your friends had beside you. The humming was all that you could hear. Droplets clung to the glass, racing each other down to the bottom of the windowsill and leaving behind a trail that would be covered by a new set of raindrops.

It was a sight that you found yourself lost in. While you learned of trivial things inside, a storm raged outside. While you were warm and dry in here, you could be out there, subject to the downpour of Mother Nature.

Maybe you should be present, paying attention to class. Or maybe, you could indulge yourself— allow yourself to be tugged into the raging transcendence of a tempest.

Spending the rest of the class like this wasn’t too bad. Hopefully Kuramochi or Miyuki wrote down the notes you were missing, but you doubt that.

—

[heaven-s-black-box]

Burn the Land, Boil the Sea- Serenity chpt.3

Return to File

Recovery date: February 24th, 2024

Description: The crew of The Challenger, captained by Miyuki Kazuya, take on a job that requires the cover of another job ferrying people. Ever the genius, Miyuki keeps some key details hidden from his crew, and it bites him in the ass.

Notes: Updates will be irregular because I'm still writing chapters but only as I feel like it. Don't question the timeline here please, it's only sort of coherent.

Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5

Word count: 1 664

Back to directory

Miyuki was expecting Mei to start a fight with Rei eventually. He’d known that man since they were kids, and Mei hadn’t ever dealt with anything subtly. So he wasn’t surprised when Zono woke him up, pounding on his door, just incredibly startled. He was so startled, in fact, that he forgot his legs were wrapped up in his blanket and ate the floor.

Zono stopped momentarily, following the thud of Miyuki hitting the floor, before resuming his rattling after Miyuki groaned in pain.

“Hang on!”

“The Alliance people are fighting and suits is calling for you.”

Miyuki sighed before muttering, “Damn it, Mei,” under his breath.

He can’t imagine he looked very imposing, entering the cargo bay completely disheveled and yawning.

Nabe was standing between Mei and Rei, while Kuramochi was left dual wielding against two of Mei’s men while the third tried to calm them down. He caught sight of the junior trio hiding behind some crates. Honestly he was surprised no one's been punched yet.

“Mei, sit down.”

The man whipped around and glared at Miyuki. His two entourage members currently in a standoff with Kuramochi briefly let their eyes flick over to him, and the third man dropped his guard a bit too much. Mei’s red haired friend took the chance to turn his gun on Miyuki who drew his pistol in retaliation.

“But-”

“And call off your dogs or I’ll send you out into the vacuum.”

Mei’s dark skinned companion snickered and the redhead sneered at the threat, but they both looked past Kuramochi to Mei awaiting orders. Mei frowned, his brows furrowed as he considered his options. He looked between Miyuki and Rei a few times before ultimately sighing and waving dismissively at his men. They slowly lowered their weapons, and the fourth companion audibly breathed a sigh of relief.

The lowering of weapons didn’t mark the end of this altercation though.

“You said that we wouldn’t run into any Alliance,” Mei complained, marching up to Miyuki. Zono stepped between them. “There’s another Alliance member on the ship!”

“There’s actually three Alliance members on the ship, including you, surprise.”

“Miyuki,” Chris warned, pulling everyone’s attention up to the hanging paths where he was sitting with a rifle pointed at Rei.

“Hello again, Chris,” she said, raising her hands in surrender. “How’s your shoulder?”

“It’s been better.”

“Let’s just all put the guns down,” Nabe pushed, still standing between Mei and Rei. “We don’t want anyone to get shot.” He turned towards where the junior trio was hiding and called them out.

“Right,” Miyuki sighed, “where to start?”

“Maybe with the truth?” Kuramochi raised his voice in irritation.

“In my defense, I haven’t intentionally lied to anyone and it’s not like I’ve kept anything important secret.”

“We’re ferrying three Alliance members, Miyuki, that’s kind of a big deal.”

He looked around. Rei gave him a small nod, and Mei just rolled his eyes with a shrug. The silent vote was one for honesty, one for whatever he saw fit, and as his eyes met Haruichi’s– or at least where his eyes were hidden– the boy shook his head. Two to two, thanks Mei.

“We don’t ask questions.”

“That’s it,” Zono growled, “this is a muttany now.”

He turned around and grabbed Miyuki by his collar, lifting him so that his feet scraped helplessly at the ground. Someone yelled at him to put the Captain down, Kuramochi wrapped an arm around Nabe’s chest to keep him from stopping him, and guns were raised once more. Miyuki dropped his gun on instinct and grabbed at Zono’s hands, but he didn’t try to pry them off.

“Are you turning us in? Is that what this is?” Zono yelled.

“Of course not.”

“Then what is going on?”

A loud siren sound echoed through the cargo bay.

“Alliance check point,” Chris called before rushing off to the cockpit.

Zono dropped Miyuki with a warning that this would be picked up later, before he backed off so that Kuramochi could join Chris in the cockpit.

“One, two, three,” Miyuki said, pointing at Mei, Rei, and Haruichi, “into the cargo hold.”

He made his way over to a specific floor panel– Mei and Rei following quickly and without question while Haruichi seemed a bit more unsure– and lifted it to reveal a small hold. Rei dropped down first, followed by Mei who grumbled about the dirt, followed by Haruichi who sent a worried look back to his friends.

“Relax, they’ll be fine.”

Once the panel was closed again he approached the bay door just in time to watch The Challenger dock for inspection. He gave the bay a once over before opening the ship's ramp. 

The sudden bright light that washed in from the flood lights made everyone wince and shield their eyes. Nabe made his way over to Sawamura and Furuya and quietly explained what was about to happen, reminding them to say nothing about the people hidden below. They could barely hear him over the loud whirring of the ramp, but they still nodded and got out their identifications. He was a bit surprised by how prepared they seemed.

Below the floor, Haruichi held his breath as the floor rattled and light streamed into the little hold. Rei placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Mei kept to himself, fiddling with his blazer sleeve and watching above them intently.

“Good evening officers, how can we help you?”

“You the captain?”

“Yes sir,” Miyuki met them at the very top of the ramp and gave them a small stack of folded papers. “Should all be in order. We’re just taking these people to Athens.”

The officer looked over the papers, nodding to himself, then waved in some more people.

“Check the passenger’s I.Ds,” there was a loud squeak as Chris and Kuramochi re-entered the cargo bay, “and purpose for their trip.” After addressing his men, he turned back to Miyuki. “Looks to be in order, this is a Fire-fly class transport, is it not?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Show me the cargo hold?”

Beneath the floor, the three hidden passengers held their breaths and stood as still as possible as if it would allow them to disappear. In the bay, the rest of the passengers had similar reactions. Unfortunately, Sawmaura’s fear was less than subtle.

The officer speaking with him and Furuya raised a brow in suspicion.

“Is everything okay?” He asked, looking back to Miyuki and his boss.

“It’s his first time traveling,” Furuya mumbled, clearly half asleep, beating Sawamura to an answer. “He’s worried there might be something illegal down there.”

Nabe had to resist face palming, especially when Sawamura responded.

“You don’t think there’s anything like that down there, oh no, what about Haruichi?!”

Everyone had to resist whipping around and yelling at Sawamura for his outburst. The main officer stopped following Miyuki and re-opened the papers to look them over for this new person. In the hold, Mei nearly had to physically bite his tongue while Haruichi rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Chris and Kuramochi’s expressions visibly soured, and Kuramochi prepared to rush back up to the cockpit to get them out of there.

“I don’t see a Haruichi on the passenger list.”

“No sir, Haruichi is a friend of theirs from back home. Loud mouth over there is just worried about what he’d think if they got held up here if we turned out to be smugglers,” Miyuki laughed.

The officer nodded and continued following Miyuki, who knelt down and opened a large cargo hold with everyone’s luggage.

“Haruichi… Kominato?”

Miyuki, Chris, and Kuramochi stiffened almost imperceptibly.

“No idea.”

“Well, thank you for your cooperation.” The officer returned Miyuki’s papers to him and joined his men back on the ramp. “Good luck with the rest of your journey.”

“Thank you sir.”

Everyone was silent until they’d left alliance airspace, still shaken from their close call.

That silence was only broken by the loud clatter of Mei slamming the small holds door open. He pulled himself up, ignoring his dark haired companion who rushed over to help him, and pointed accusingly at Sawamura.

“Would it kill you to think before you speak?!”

“Mei, settle down.”

“No I will not settle down, he almost got us caught!”

“Narumiya-san,” Haruichi pleaded.

“And you,” Mei turned around and jabbed his finger into Haruichi’s chest, “I knew you looked familiar. You’re that genius medical student with the runaway brother!”

Haruichi’s lips pressed into a thin line as he turned his head away.

“And you,” he pointed at Rei who was being helped out of the hold by, “Itsuki stop helping the enemy! She’s an Alliance officer.”

“Who was just hiding from them, Mei-san, if she wanted she would have turned as all in at that check point.”

Itsuki sighed. Mei opened and closed his mouth a few times, futilely searching for words, before growling and turning to Miyuki.

“Kazuya! Answers, now!”

Miyuki could only sigh in resignation at being caught.

“Alright, I knew.”

The room erupts into angry shouts as even Nabe turns against him with distrust. He isn’t sure why, but it stings a bit. Even though he knows he brought this on himself.

“Why didn’t you tell us? we’re your crew!” Kuramochi yelled.

“Because I didn’t need you all looking over your shoulder every two seconds, I was going to tell you all before we hit the check point I just… fell asleep.”

“Without telling us important, life saving information?!” Zono bellowed.

“Hey, the pain killers that you insist I take are really fucking strong!”

“That’s enough!” Chris cuts in before anyone can respond to Miyuki. “Miyuki,” the disappointment in Chris’ voice made the captain’s stomach roll, “I won’t say you made the wrong choice, but I hope you have a plan to fix it.”

Kuramochi rolled his eyes and started stomping back to the cockpit. “Fuck shore leave,” he says, just before he slips through the door, “find yourself a new pilot.”

[museguided]

@shrapnelsong sent: "Heey, Captain~" Alice tries her best to keep the smile and the singsongy tone out of her voice when she approaches Miyuki, but a hint of her amusement happens to slip through. "Some of the players" Mochi. Of course it was Mochi. "brought an interesting new exercise to my attention that's gotten pretty popular lately." And nevermind the group nearby that's badly pretending like they're not paying attention to their conversation as she hands him her phone, the sound of Mariah Carey's Touch my Body filling the space between them. "How about we try it too?"

Kazuya raised his head from the score book at the sound of her voice. The immediate suspicion in response to her tone should have been his first clue, but he tamped it down. Though she was sneaky on occasion (he still needed to ask her about all those candid photographs she took) as far as he knew, she meant no harm. "Oh?" He cast a cursory glance around the room, confusion seeping in at the strange sense of anticipation in the air. Initially, he thought back to the team building up dirt on the mound to simulate a taller pitcher. If it's anything like that, he didn't see an issue. "Let's see. If it doesn't mess with the coach's routines, we might be able to squeeze some time in to try it out."

He carefully receives her phone, mindful of the touchscreen until the video began to play. Then he wished he held some of his words back as the pop music played and the batter on the screen began shaking his hips. His shoulders shook when the video ended and looped back, a giggle growing into a full-blown laugh. "Really, could you imagine someone like Kuramochi or Zono pulling this off? It'd throw off the other team for sure!"

Then his thumb slipped on the screen, playing the next video on the channel and his humor slowly died down as he watched the outfield of this American team dance again. The umpire and the catcher joined in and somehow he could feel the mortification as if he were on that stage, himself. He quickly found the button to make the screen dark, his voice much more quieter this time around. "Ehe. On second thought, it's best if we don't make a fool of ourselves..."

[hey-cringelord]

making shit up is so fun. like, i could say pro ball player kuramochi youichi has one tattoo, and its a kiss print tat on his hip. drunken stupidity. the people don’t know the kiss print is from miyuki kazuya, another famous pro ball player, nor that miyuki has a matching one

my first thought was one has it on one hip and the other on the opposite, but then remembered people commonly get these on their asscheek. cue the miyuki that lives in my head going “(gojo laugh) now you’re always kissing my ass!” so. well… here we are

(could you imagine a retired coach kataoka hearing about two of his old first-stringers getting kiss print tats from each other? glare so strong kuramiyu could feel it cross-country)