#there is no situation in a high school gymnasium that calls for that severe of a crash out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ariadnelives · 3 years ago

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Chapter 4 — She Keeps Doing This

Missed a chapter? Catch up here!

“Is this fun for you, Nicks?” Ariadne called into the school through a loudspeaker. “We know you're not gonna hurt those kids, so just give it up, I got other shit to do today!”

The police on the ground had, by this point, resigned themselves to Ariadne's presence. They knew full well that the call they'd gotten about an armed robbery at the Buchanan Corporation was probably related to Ariadne being here today, but there was very little they could actually do about it. The hostage-taker had done this three times already recently, to say nothing of the sporadic hostage situations she'd staged over the last two years, and had made it very clear that she would only negotiate with the pirate Ariadne.

They had no means to contact Ariadne, of course, but she always seemed to show up anyway. It was almost, some of the rank-and-file officers thought, like the hostage situations had been specifically planned to fall directly in Ariadne's path.

“What's it gonna take, darlin'?” Ariadne called through the loudspeaker. “Are you just bored or is there actually something I can do to make you cut this shit out?”

Nicks' distorted voice rang back through the school's intercom system. “I just want to talk.”

Ariadne sighed. “I'm listening.”

“No. I want to talk, face to face, me and you,” Nicks said. “No weapons. No cops. No henchmen crawling through the air ducts to sneak the hostages out. I don't want your muscle taking shots at me from a rooftop. You come in for a short conversation, and I let the rest of the hostages go.”

Ariadne signaled to her forces to stand down. “I'm coming in.”

The police perked up at this.

Ariadne handed her sidearm to Spacebreather, deposited all her knives and gear, and made for the door. A police sniper on a nearby rooftop began to line up a shot, but as long as the children were still trapped inside, he couldn't afford to take Ariadne out.

Ariadne passed through the doors and immediately saw a hand-painted sign that said “THIS WAY.” She followed the arrow and immediately saw another, then another, and continued to follow them until she'd reached the school's gymnasium.

Outside, moments later, the school's doors opened and several dozen children and their teachers filed out with their hands in the air.

The police took a quick headcount to confirm that all staff and students were accounted for, then immediately took position to storm the building. Frankly, they didn't care whether the hostage-taker shot Ariadne dead, or vice-versa.

However, they quickly found themselves faced with Ariadne's masked and heavily-armed lieutenants, who warned them that if they attempted to apprehend Ariadne, they would have an all-out war on their hands.

Given the bare-bones police presence at the school (the bulk of the force had been diverted to Buchanan Tower to deal with an armed robbery) and how visibly heavily-armed the pirates' shuttle was, none of the police officers wanted to take that chance.

***

“Well, I'm here,” Ariadne said. “What's this really about, Nicks?”

Nicks stood in the same black catsuit and gold cowl she'd been wearing the last three times Ari had seen her. The cowl covered her full face and had the effect of making her look like she had the head of a golden snake. Ariadne thought it looked rather hokey, but given her own penchant for the theatrical, she hardly had the high ground on this.

“No tricks?” Nicks said softly.

“Oh, like you're one to talk,” Ari replied. “I'm unarmed. You gonna get spooked and teleport away again?”

Nicks laughed. “You know, I thought about it. I do love to be on your mind.”

“You're more just annoying the hell out of me,” Ariadne said, “I don't think about you, sugar.”

Nicks tightened. “Well, that's the problem,” she replied. “That's why I have to keep doing this. How would I see you otherwise?”

“You wouldn't,” Ariadne said without missing a beat, “that's kind of the ideal situation for me.”

“But you're just so much fun,” Nicks explained, “and I know you'll always show up. You don't want to take the chance with these kids' lives.”

Ariadne tried to take a step closer to her without scaring her off. “I heard what happened with your family,” she explained. “I know what you're capable of.”

Nicks laughed abruptly, just a bit too loud, and unsettled Ariadne. “I thought you'd approve,” she said. “Isn't that the sort of thing you do? Seizing the hoarded wealth of the corrupt upper class?”

Ari was taken aback by this. Did she really think that's what she was doing? That money was hers anyway, and by killing her family so she wouldn't have to share it, it was now more hoarded than ever.

“I don't kill them to get it,” Ari explained calmly, and took another step towards her, “I'm not an amateur.”

Even through that gilded snake mask, Ari could tell that Nicks was grinning. “No, of course not,” she said softly. “You're the best there is. That's why I have to keep bringing you back.”

“You know, if you really want face time with me,” Ariadne said hopefully, “you don't need to do all this. Why don't you come back to my ship with me and we can talk?”

Nicks tightened again and stepped back. “And do what, help you rob the rich and give to the needy?” She asked incredulously. “I get more out of every fight against you than I would in a lifetime with you.”

Ariadne grew more frustrated. “You can't know that,” she said, “if you're so obsessed with us— with me— we don't have to be enemies.” Ariadne took another step towards her.

“Ugh,” Nicks said, “how boring. Of course we do. Besides… I know what you do with people like me.”

“What, rich white sociopaths who get their jollies from decapitation?” Ariadne laughed. “Seriously, you don't have to be like that! Just come back to the ship with me and—”

“Exactly,” Nicks said, “people who fall short of your holier-than-thou morals. Imagine what you could do on my level.”

“Imagine what you could do on mine!” Ariadne spat back. “What is your endgame here, hon? I mean, are you just gonna keep spinning your wheels, taking hostages to make me save them forever? You trying to teleport out of here so the cops storm in and take me down? We both know I'll be long gone before they get to me. So what? Why is this what you insist on being?”

Nicks rushed up until she was close enough that Ariadne could see her wild eyes through the holes in her cowl.

“Oh, I'm going to be so much more,” Nicks hissed at her. “You and I are going to make each other so much better. I'm going to show you what your operation could be like if you had my ambition.”

“You don't have any ambition,” Ariadne insisted. “You're just doing this because you're bored! Don't you want to be part of something bigger?”

“I will be,” Nicks said. “I only called you here to give you a heads up, make it a fair fight. See, you're going to have some competition starting now. Enjoy your victory today because as soon as my First Mate and I are together, our crew will be unstoppable.”

Ariadne laughed. “Okay then. You do that. I don't want to meet the person who'd be first mate on your crew.”

“Oh, you've met,” Nicks said knowingly. “But for now, I think she'd prefer to remain… Nameless.”

Ariadne saw a flash of red and before she could stop herself, she had lunged at Nicks and managed to get a solid grip on her arm, which she swiftly dislocated from its socket.

Nicks screamed and clutched her arm. She hadn't expected Ariadne to physically attack her, and as she'd spent the greater part of the past month dodging Spacebreather's bullets, she assumed any physical assault would be easy to evade.

“You don't know that name,” Ariadne said. “You're lucky I didn't break your goddamn neck for saying that name to me.”

“Oh…” Nicks said, clutching her shoulder, “so you do remember her. Do you remember what you did to her?”

“A lot less than Spacebreather's gonna do to you when I get you back to the ship,” Ariadne said, grabbing her other arm and wrenching it behind her back.

She tried to hold both of Nicks' wrists while tapping the teleport beacon on her own, but Nicks took advantage of this moment of divided attention and flung her head back into Ariadne's, disorienting her and causing her to lose her grip slightly.

In the brief moment this bought her, she broke free of Ariadne's clutches, tapped a button on her own belt, and disappeared in a flash of blue light.

“God FUCKING damn it!” Ariadne screamed, and let out a string of subsequent profanity which would have made her old mentor proud, while making even the most seasoned sailors blush.

Ariadne slumped back onto one of the nearby bleachers and hung her head between her knees. She was incredibly embarrassed about having lost her temper, and wanted to take just a moment to compose herself before returning to the ship, where she'd have to explain her failure to the whole crew.

“She's gonna do it again,” she said to herself, “and it's my fault.”

“It's not your fault,” a soft, shaky voice said from behind her, causing her to startle. “It's mine.”

Ari looked up to see the source of the voice, and sighed deeply. “Of course you made your way in here.”

“Spacebreather didn't want you in here alone and unarmed,” Ghostrunner said. “I'm sorry. I was supposed to take her down if she tried anything. I just… I froze when she—”

Ariadne chuckled. “Don't sweat it, kid,” she said. “You couldn't have been prepared for me to try something.”

“Y-you don't really think that she's…” Ghostrunner stumbled a bit on her words. “I mean, it's a common figure of speech, right?”

Ariadne's stone face gave her all the answer she needed, but it was, unfortunately, the last answer she could've wanted.

“Sweetheart, she's locked up and she can't get out. Nicks can't possibly get to her,” Ariadne said firmly. “I promised you she'd never hurt you again, and I'll put her in the ground myself before I break that promise.”

“I trust you,” Ghostrunner replied.

Ariadne sighed again. “And I'm sorry. For avoiding you these past few days. It's not anything you could've known about. Just my personal hangups. I'd appreciate it if we didn't dwell on it.”

Ghostrunner said nothing.

“You want a ride out of here?” Ari asked. “I'll teleport us back, I just… I need a minute.”

“You got it, boss,” Ghostrunner replied. She was a lot more careful with her words this time. “Thank you for understanding.”

“Same to you,” Ari told her. “You're… you're a good kid. Thanks for… having my back.”

They sat in silence for a few seconds, and then Ghostrunner found the courage to speak. “I'm not trying to dwell on it,” she said, “but I think I owe it to you to explain myself. Explain why I said… what I said.”

“You don't owe me anything, hon,” Ariadne said flatly, and Ghostrunner looked hurt. Ariadne sighed. She dreaded the idea of staying on this topic, but begrudgingly relented. “You don't usually talk this much,” she chuckled, “I'd hate to stop you now!”

A few minutes later, they teleported back to the shuttle, and explained what happened with Nicks to the crew on the way back. Without a word, Ariadne and Ghostrunner knew that they should keep Nicks' mention of the Nameless need-to-know. As far as the crew outside of their own inner circle were concerned, the whole story was that Ariadne had engaged Nicks physically, but that Nicks had escaped before she or Ghostrunner was able to stop her.

***

“What aren't you telling us?” Sweettalk asked Ghostrunner later, when they'd gotten back to the privacy of her and Sasha's quarters. “What did Nicks really say that shook you and the captain so bad?”

Ghostrunner sighed and pulled off the hood that made it clear she'd been crying. “Nicks mentioned the Nameless,” she said, her voice still shaking. “Somehow, she's working with Libby.”

Sasha and Sweettalk felt ice run through their veins. From the looks on their faces, Ghostrunner knew that she and Ariadne couldn't have been blamed for their reactions in the moment.

“You know the law,” Sasha said. “Stay close to us. If any of us sees her, we'll…” the end of the sentence stuck in her throat.

“I'll kill her on sight,” Sweettalk said. “Anyone on the crew will, but they won't enjoy it as much as I will.”

Ghostrunner began to cry again. “Thank you, I'm…” she took a few breaths to compose herself. “God, I'm sorry to make you guys always… deal with my shit.”

“Let,” Sasha corrected. “You let us help you.”

Ghostrunner smiled, and then heaved a sigh. “I kinda freaked out the captain back on Earth. You know, when I called her mom by accident.”

Sweettalk bit her tongue. Sometimes the best thing to say is nothing.

“I think I straightened it out with her, though,” Ghostrunner said. “I told her about… what happened to my birth parents. I can tell she's not comfortable with me viewing her as a mother, but… she said she's going to help me.”

“Help you?” Sasha asked.

“Look for Nahomie,” Ghostrunner replied, “I have a sister out there somewhere, and Ariadne's going to help me find her.”

Sweettalk grinned, and Sasha crossed herself. They both embraced Ghostrunner. “You've got us too,” Sasha said. “If you're ready to look for her, we're ready to help.”

“I'll even get Jane and Can-Do in on the fun,” Sweettalk chimed in cheerfully, “I'm totally their boss, I can make them do just about anything you might need.”

As she had on so many nights since everything that had gone down with Libby, Ghostrunner stayed in Sasha and Sweettalk's quarters that night. Unfortunately, as it had not been on so many nights in the past year, it would not be a restful night's sleep.

#core story

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softomi · 4 years ago

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butterflies

prompt: I read in a book once that blue butterflies symbolize many things but I think my favorite was that they are wish-granters. So if you see a blue butterfly, make a wish.

pairing: atsumu x reader

word count: 3.3k

general taglist: @graykageyama

Between the twins, Osamu was always your favorite and it was clear that Osamu preferred you over his brother. Atsumu was the bane of your existence ever since they moved across the street from you. Seven years old, the parents happily introducing themselves, the children staring at each other awkwardly. One held a volleyball, the other staring at you. They were supposed to be your new friends, though all of you were seven, technically you were older. You were a grade above them having just made the cutoff to enter school early, that didn’t stop Atsumu from addressing you as though you were younger than him.

“Ow.” You fell onto your butt, Atsumu had harshly pushed you, “Tsumu.” You began to whimper, tears forming in the corner of your eyes.

He didn’t mean to push you so hard, he just didn’t like that your cooties were going to stain him. There’s a pretty blue butterfly pin in your pigtail braid and when he reaches out, your cries lessen. Your eyes widening, perhaps he was going to help you up. His fingers tug on one of your braids, a little too harshly that the butterfly pin falls out. You begin to wail more at how hurtful he was being.

“Tsumu!” Osamu rips Atsumu’s hand away, shoving the boy to stand between you and his brother. Osamu has dirt on his face from playing far away, he had left momentarily to dig through the ground but as soon as he heard your cries, he came running, “Don’t be mean!”

Atsumu doesn’t know what he did wrong, was it so bad that he was interested in your braids, “She’s the one being a cry baby.” He sticks his tongue out, scowling at you for ruining his fun.

The twins parents have emerged from the home, their mother helping you up and dusting off the dirt from your dress. Osamu lunges at Atsumu, they’re pulling each other’s hair, Atsumu is shoving his brother’s face with his palm, Osamu’s knee is pressing against his brother’s chest. Their father lifts Osamu off Atsumu, scolding the boys loudly for starting a fight.

“Apologize!” Atsumu’s head is forced in a bow by his father.

Atsumu’s fingers are clenched in a fist, “I’m sorry.” He’s gritting through his teeth. He has a scar on his cheek from his brother and he watches with a heavy glare at the way Osamu has his hand in yours, leading you into the home with their mom.

Atsumu plays by himself outside, his father watching him throw around the volleyball for an hour. He catches the ball and holds it still when he hears the door of the home opening. For a second he turns thinking Osamu has decided to come out and play but he scowls when you’re walking to him with your pretty blue polka dot dress.

“I brought you a cookie.” You have a plate in your hands, chocolate chip cookies looking freshly made. He reaches but his hand knocks the plate out of your hands, the cookies sadly falling onto the floor.

“Miya Atsumu!” His father’s stern voice sends a chill down his spine. Before he knows it, he’s being dragged into the home by the back of his shirt.

Atsumu thinks, it’s your fault he’s always getting in trouble.

After Osamu walks you home, Atsumu is allowed to come out of his room. He’s back outside and when he walks through the grass, something shiny attracts his attention. His fingers reach out, gripping the butterfly pin he remembers in your hair. He stuffs the pin in his pocket, running to throw around the volleyball with his brother.

As time went on, Atsumu, Osamu, and you fell into a respective trio dynamic. You were close-knit with Osamu, sharing similar interests in movies, games, and books. With Atsumu, you bickered and spat with him over every little thing; he stopped pulling your hair but that only egged him to think of other modes of torture. Osamu was always there to beat his brother up for you, someone’s got to knock him down a peg and that’s exactly what Osamu did.

By the time the twins entered junior high, Atsumu was beginning to notice he was the third wheel and the only way you’d ever look his way was when he tormented you. He’d spill his drinks on you, eat your food, purposely poke your sides to make you jump, scare you from around the corner, and even just plainly verbally hurt you.

“Did you gain weight?” Atsumu poked your stomach. You slap his hand away, trying to ignore him until Osamu arrived. You should have known better than to walk with Atsumu. He slings an arm around your shoulders, “Did you look in the mirror today when you got ready?”

His cackle is blow to your heart, you jab an elbow into his side, your palm wiping away a stray tear.

“Are you crying?” As much as Atsumu doesn’t want to laugh, because he doesn’t, he feels guilty, horrible even, but his automatic reaction is to chuckle, “Hey, I’m“ His apology is cut off when a fist forces him to step back.

Osamu blows on his fist, he looks at his brother with a grin, “Call it twin telepathy, I just knew you were being mean.”

Not much changed in high school, him a mere second year and you a third year. The only change he can think of is the fact that now you had a whole team to back you up. Kita was rather sharp in detecting Atsumu being a little prick to you, Suna took pride in tripping the blonde if he as much tried to approach you, the other’s seem to take more of an approach of just being near you. After all, you being their volleyball club manager was more important than Atsumu.

“Hey.” Atsumu’s voice stops you dead in your tracks before you can even step foot into the gymnasium to start setting up, “What’s with that on your face?”

Your hand instinctively flies to your cheeks, “What?”

His hand wildly gestures to his own face, “You trying to impress someone? Make-up won’t do you any good.”

You didn’t think anyone would notice the thin layer of foundation you put on or the minimal line of eyeliner; even your eyeshadow was so sheer, you wondered how he even saw it. You give him a cold shoulder, “Go fall off a cliff Atsumu.”

He follows you into the gym, setting his bag down onto one of the benches. He makes his way behind you, his finger dipped into your skirt, pulling at the waistband, “Oi, you have a rip in your skirt.”

“What are you doing?!” Osamu drops his bag at the entrance of the gym, he’s running, tackling his brother to the ground.

“Get the fuck off me!” Atsumu is shoving his brother.

Osamu is digging his brother’s face into the floor, “You’re being a perv!”

“Fuck you!” Atsumu is on top of his brother now.

You could clear up the situation if they weren’t so engrossed in murdering each other. They continue to roll on the floor, taking turns shoving the other’s face into the ground. You use their distracted minds to pull your skirt around. He was telling the truth, it was barely noticeable but there was a tiny rip on the waistband, probably where he had been pulling.

Atsumu is biting the insides of his mouth, he had been scolded by Kita when Osamu explained what had happened, and even when you explained he had no ill intentions; Kita still lectured him on how it isn’t appropriate to touch a girl without her permission. Now he’s running laps around the gym with the rest of the team while you fiddle with the fabric of your skirt.

“Here.” You look up at him, Atsumu had disappeared for ten minutes and when he returned, he towered over you, in his hand a small sewing kit, “If you keep playing with it, you’ll end up ripping the entire skirt. No one wants to see that.”

Even when he’s being nice, he has to throw in a blow to your self-esteem.

“Thanks.” You say bitterly, “But I don’t know how to sew.” Your finger scratches against your head, “I know, I’m stupid.”

You’re not. Atsumu wants to say.

You shift uncomfortably when he suddenly takes a knee. He pulls the thread from the kit, looping it through the needle to make a small knot.

“Can I?” He’s asking permission to touch you and you merely nod.

Compared to his usual self, Atsumu’s touch is soft. You stare at how concentrated he is, stitching the ripped fabric so that it looks almost brand new. Though your uniform skirt was black, the thread he chose was vibrant red. He leans his head near your hip, he uses his teeth to sever the rest of the thread. His breath hot, you could barely feel it through the fabric of your shirt. Your cheeks tint with a blush when he briefly catches your gaze, he looks away quickly.

“What are you doing now?!” Osamu has returned from his long bathroom break; his hand pulls his brother back by the neck of his shirt.

“Samu!” You wave your hands around, “It’s alright, he was just helping me.” You point to the red thread of your skirt.

Atsumu has his hands up in mercy, Osamu eyes him, “I’m onto you.”

“What? Why?!”

Osamu throws a volleyball at his brother’s head, “Because! You’re an asshole!”

“We’re twins, so by default, you’re an asshole too.”

Atsumu starts to run, Osamu tackles him pretty quickly.

There’re girls piled at the door of Atsumu’s classroom, one by one they come in as though they’re presenting their sacrifices to the king himself. He has chocolates stacked to the ceiling, the teachers are already spreading news that they can’t yell at him since they are gifts and if he was forced to throw any away, the female student body would wreak havoc.

The second-year girls slink back when they spot you, a third year that has all the second-year boys turning heads. Some are boldly stopping you to present their own chocolates which you take sweetly. They sigh happily when you walk away.

“Please accept my confession!”

You enter as the class falls dead silent, you’ve come to the second year classroom to give your gifts to the volleyball boys but you’ve stumbled into what seems to be a public love confession to Atsumu. He leans back in his seat, balancing on the back two legs of the chair as he looks up to the girl. She’s shaking from anxiety with her chocolates out for him, the students begin to whisper the longer he takes to answer. You pity her because Atsumu is a complicated person, you just never know what he’s thinking or what he’ll do next.

“Sorry sweetheart, can’t accept any more chocolates. Teacher says I have too much.” Atsumu settles himself onto the four legs of his chair, “You can try Osamu.”

Some of the students let out audible gasps at his comment. You watch her lower her head, brushing past your shoulder in a dejected fashion. The class goes back to bustling rather quickly. Suna sits straight up when he spots you at the door, he taps on Osamu’s desk, the male turning away from the window. Atsumu turns to look over his shoulder, his lips in a thin line when you walk towards the three.

“Happy Valentine’s day.” You have three bags in your hand, you settle one on Osamu’s desk, one falls into the hands of Suna and the last lingers between your fingers. Atsumu stares at it, he notices you have scribbled his name on the side.

The longer you stand without giving it to him, the more he gets irritated. His leg bounces rapidly, he notices the ugly boxes of chocolates squished between your arm and side; pathetic boxes given by pathetic guys. He could do better.

“I just came to drop these off.” Your voice is starting to fade as you notice the last bag still in your hand. You flip the bag around, Osamu and Suna stare at it, a weak glance to their setter, “I’ll see you guys later.”

Osamu got cookies and a gift card to the café he’s been dying to try out. Suna got cookies and a cute little fox plush. Atsumu got nothing but a blow to his pride. He’s sitting arms crossed, knee bouncing against his desk as he refuses to look at Osamu and Suna. Atsumu wonders what you had put in the bag for him.

He had thought long and hard about his gift, Atsumu wasn’t planning on getting you anything for Valentine’s day but the team insisted that it would be a good day to show their appreciation for their manager. When Atsumu asked Osamu what he had gotten for you, Osamu showed him the mug he bought that had a bunny on it. Apparently, the bunny changes color depending on the temperature of the drink. When Osamu asked what Atsumu had gotten, the male simply shrugged his shoulders but the butterfly pin in his pocket pokes at his skin.

The group chat with the team has signified that he’s the last one who hadn’t given his gift yet. He can’t seem to find the time to pull you aside and he can’t find the courage to waltz into your classroom looking for you.

Meet me after classes, near the garden shed.

You reread the text just to make sure that it was correct. A part of you thought maybe his text was a joke meant to leave you hanging outside in the cold but as you near, you can clearly see his tall figure. His back is to you, he’s kicking the snow on the ground, it’s freezing and you’re jogging slightly to reach him.

“Hey.”

He whips around at your voice. His nose is red, trying to hide himself in his scarf. His eyes fall to your hands, you still have the bag but you’re making sure that the side that has his name doesn’t show. His hands are dug into his pockets, he’s twirling the butterfly pin.

“Atsumu?” Your voice shakes him, your eyes wide and just waiting for him to say something, anything.

Snow begins to fall, you look up, your hand lifted to catch the snowflakes that melts immediately in your palm.

“I.” Atsumu can’t find his next words because as you look at him, his heart is pounding in his chest. His eyes are falling and he catches the faint red thread on your skirt; he was sure you had thrown the skirt out, he recalls you telling Osamu that you had ordered a new skirt, “I’m sorry.”

“Hm?” You lean in, “What?”

Atsumu’s clenching the butterfly pin. He’s remembering every moment he’s ever had with you, all the hair pulling, all the nasty words, all the dirty tricks, “I said I’m sorry.” His lips are chapped, cheeks turning red from the cold, or maybe from the way he feels his heartrate accelerating, “Okay?”

You’re confused, “Did something happen? Did you get into a fight with Osamu again?”

Osamu, Osamu, Osamu. Is that all the two of you will ever talk about? Is that the only topic of common ground that you had with him? Osamu this, Osamu that.

“No.” He presses his thumb on the hairpin, “Whatever.” He sighs, his hands are removed from his pockets, in his palm you stare at the pin, “Happy Valentine’s day loser.”

Your finger brushes against his skin and you stare with wonder at the butterfly pin you recall bawling to your parents for losing, “Where’d you find this?” You’re smiling, for the first time, you’re giving him a smile.

“It’s not really important where I found it.” It sat on his dresser for years, some days he forgot it was there, other days he stared at it when getting dressed.

You’re giggling with glee, you’re pushing the hairpin to pull back strands of your hair, it’s bright blue jewels contrast against the falling of snow. The pin rests above your ear, Atsumu stares in awe. A snowball smacks against his neck, it jolts Atsumu out of his trance and he’s alarmingly looking around.

“What are you doing?!” Osamu screams from a distance, Suna’s phone out had captured the accurate shot.

“Goddamit Samu!” Atsumu screams, the cold torturing his skin. Atsumu quickly forms a snowball, you scream when another snowball hits Atsumu’s side, it exploded and struck you as collateral.

Atsumu chucks the snowball at his brother, though he tried to run, Osamu was hit straight in the face. You let out a gasp in unison with Atsumu, Osamu is building another snowball and just as he’s about to throw, Atsumu grips you by the arms, putting you in front of him.

“Tsumu! No!” You screech.

His stomach jitters, you called him by his nickname. Osamu chucks the snowball and to protect your face, you turn in Atsumu’s hands, your fingers clinging to his jacket and you’re laughing. God, you’re laughing with him.

The snowball sends you forward, your cheek pressed against his chest, your laughter vibrates onto his skin. He’s burning, he’s hot, he’s sweating. He’s suddenly gulping, thirsty, aching to drink something. Another snowball is thrown, this time it hits him in the shoulder.

“Don’t use y/n as a shield, ya dickhead!” Osamu is approaching, this time he nears with a snowball in his hand.

You’re just realizing now that you’re exposed legs are freezing. You shiver into Atsumu briefly before pulling away from him. You escape from his grasp to skip over to Suna. You’re clinging to Suna’s arm, teeth chattering, and you watch through Suna’s phone as Osamu smacks the snowball into his brother’s face. Of course, this causes Atsumu to tackle Osamu; Suna stops the recording.

“I got like ten million videos of them rolling on the floor.”

Atsumu ruffles his hair, he’s looking in the mirror to make sure all the dirt and snow mixture is out. Osamu approaches next to him, running his hand under the water. They don’t meet gazes but as they stare into their own reflections, it was like they were looking right at each other.

“Don’t do it.” Osamu states. He’s pulled one of the paper towels, wiping his hands as he doesn’t break eye contact with his reflection, “Don’t go acting like you loved her this entire time. You treated her like shit and now suddenly you think you’re in love.”

Atsumu feels guilt build up in the pit of his stomach. Osamu leaves the bathroom, leaving Atsumu to grip onto the sink. The feeling of you pressed against his chest makes blue butterflies swirl in his abdomen. He shoves the feeling down, he tucks it into the back of his heart, he puts you on the back burner.

His cell rings, Suna’s text tells him that everyone has decided to head to the gym first. He takes the time to wipe his hands, throwing the paper towel into the trash, he spots a brown paper bag next to the door of the bathroom. His name is scribbled on the side in your handwriting.

Atsumu got cookies, a volleyball keychain with his name etched into it, and a card. He sits in the bathroom, card in between his fingers, streaks of tears down his cheek while he stuffs the cookies into his mouth.

Thank you for helping me that one day with my skirt. I was going to buy a new one but then cancelled the order since I’ll be graduating any way. I never did get to thank you so I’m doing it now.

The card continues with a different colored pen.

I love the butterfly hairpin, thank you for finding it. I hope that we can become friends.

Atsumu heavily breathes, you were so nice, for someone like him, you were incredibly nice. You were so nice his heart was clenching and somewhere in the world, blue butterflies are flapping their wings.

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #atsumu scenarios #atsumu x reader #atsumu miya #miya atsumu #hq scenarios #hq atsumu

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watevermelon · 5 years ago

Text

Possessive | College!Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

✧ Summary: Libero to the women’s Fukurōdani volleyball club, you moved away from Miyagi and to Tokyo during your first-year. And while you cherished your high school years, you wondered how different it might have been if you stayed with your childhood friends at Shiratorizawa. After a failed confession in junior high, you were more than surprised to re-connect with the strong ace in college. ✧ Warnings: Implicating language and some out-dated head-cannons ✧ Tags: Fukurodani crew! Akaashi being an instigator from Kuroo’s influence probably, subtle Jealous moments, fluff, cleared-up misunderstandings, angst, and mutual pining at one point ((this is a long one)) -> A/N: If you are an oldie fan of HQ you might have seen this on Deviantart (we shared an acc there and now stuff is getting migrated 😛 )) -> Masterlist

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You were on the phone, lazily chatting away with your favorite Salami and catching-up with what you had missed since the last time he called. You went to Shiratorizawa Academy Junior High with the red-haired middle-blocker and many of the other current third-years. During the break of your first-year of high school, your dad got a new job in Tokyo and it was off to Fukurōdani Academy for you.

It was an amazing three-years that you would not change, from Bokuto’s inconsistent confidence – which did extend to girls! – to Akaashi’s eternal suffering. You were amongst the many who cried at graduation. It was not until you heard your own name called and you were approaching the stage to receive your diploma that it finally hit you that this would be your last walk on the field. No more all-nighters with Akaashi or getting in trouble with Bokuto – well, that’s actually entirely possible in the near future. But it was truly an end of an era and you would give anything to be able to watch memories of those three-years.

Bokuto was a proud dad of his team and put on a strong face. But you were soft at heart and immediately felt tears break your stern façade the moment you saw captain Akaashi. And for once, the usually stern setter smiled at you. It was a pure instance that would forever brand your heart.

There were too many ‘what if’s’ concerning your time at Shiratorizawa and if you had stayed there for high school instead. It was better to be focused on reality than what could have happened. You loved your time at Fukurōdani Academy and connected well with the various people you met.

You can, however, admit to mentally wandering off once or twice during class, pondering how your childhood friends were dealing without you. Did they miss you? How is everyone? You would get various glimpses here and there throughout the schoolyear from the various sports channels, seeing the familiar tufts of hair signifying the guess monster and his ace.

They came to you almost twice a year. Shiratorizawa was a powerhouse school, there was no doubt about it. And they never failed to appear at nationals that were held annually in Tokyo. They were a reliable team, much like your own, and you would meet-up for the customary trash-talk between the Miyagi-representatives and yourself from the Tokyo Prefecture. You could look forward to seeing them around those times of the year, it was that simple. They were reigning champions and kept the title strong.

You could still remember first seeing them at the fall national competition. It was your first Interhigh and the women’s team had advanced to the National Playoffs. You were nowhere near the starting lineup, but you still felt the pride of your school swell within you as one of their libero’s.

The men’s and women’s volleyball team were leisurely walking through a hall of the gymnasium, trying to emanate their most serious and daunting look possible. You walked alongside your new outgoing classmates, Kōtarō Bokuto and the male libero Haruki Komi. Both of them were rays of sunshine, but it seemed Komi was better at withholding his enthusiasm.

“Don’t look now, but there’s one of the rising aces everyone has been talking about at your ten o’clock.” Haruki whispered in your ear, lightly nudging your elbow.

You glanced to the side and the bright-red gravity defying hair was enough to signify who was before you. In the loudest inside voice you could muster, you basically yelled, “I figured swans would be more concerned with looking pretty than anything else.”

Immediately, Tendou whipped around to see who the fuck was talking shit.

Haruki was instantly regretting bringing the purple-clad giants to your attention. He grabbed your arm and quickly tugged you to hide behind your senpai’s, who could handle the diffusing the situation. Bokuto was simply smiling away, both curious and excited to see his prospective rivals. The older, calmer members of Fukurōdani Academy were quick and you felt some weight fall on your shoulder – probably your very captain telling you to silently shut the hell up. But when they saw Tendou’s smile and Ushijima’s confused face, they were just as perplexed.

“Missed me boys?” You waved at the crowd of Shiratorizawa jackets, spotting a few familiar faces.

“We have a traitor in our midst!” Tendou yelled back, ruffling you hair and gaining surprised laughter from Bokuto.

During that Interhigh National Tournament, your team was defeated in the quarter finals by an all-girls school called Niiyama High. With a proud mindset, you set your eyes on your next chance in the spring with the third-years leading the charge. Unlike most schools, you were a powerhouse and not a single problem, like college exams or even graduation, was going to stop the third-years from continuing to Spring nationals.

The women’s team were comprised of mostly strong-willed women with fervent determination. You were quick to pick-up your dignity after the lost match and decided on supporting your male counterparts at the tournament. The match between the men’s teams of Shiratorizawa and Fukurōdani Academy were still going on and it was hype as fuck.

Both schools were known powerhouses, coming with complete cheerleaders, an entire cheering section, a band, and a teacher delegated with the pure role of leading the loud shouts. On the court, it was easy to tune out the audience and keep your eyes focused on the enemy in front of you. But as the women’s team scoured for seats, you could not help but be amazed at the sheer amount of people from your school who showed up to cheer. Bokuto was anxiously squeezing his hands at the sidelines, but you knew he was destined for more.

You and Bokuto had an affinity for befriending members of other teams and after the Interhigh tournament came the Kanto training camp – which rightfully handed you another ass. Other powerhouse schools taught you that you truly had much more to learn. Ubugawa, both men and women, were widely-renowned for their power serves. And as a libero, this awarded you constant red arms and a couple overly-excited receives to the head.

But it also brought you the greatest gift of all – or maybe worst, who knows?

This friendly camp introduced the sassy duo of Tetsurō Kuroo and Morisuke Yaku. Yaku was an amazing libero whom you admired from afar, even in your younger years. And this camp gave you a personal connection to the young man. The first few times you tried approaching him, your shyness would often kick in. Three years later and you could get away with lounging your legs across his.

In your second-year, Bokuto was already vice-captain while you only just gained a position on the starting block. It was, you figured, entirely natural since Bokuto was gaining ranks amongst national spikers. And that year, you secretly believed in your heart, was the best year of the three. The weight of the world had yet to be placed on your shoulders and there was no looming thought of graduation on the horizon. And that year ushered the era of Akaashi. You heard his name constantly, from both Bokuto and other male volleyball players, but was never fully familiarized with the boy.

You knew from bits and pieces that he was charming young man that Bokuto held in high-regard. A junior high picture showed a cute boy with dark scruffy hair, around your height. But hot momma, you were not prepared at all. Akaashi was a good amount of centimetres taller and his build accentuated his role as setter. And you were not going to lie, he was attractive.

You spotted him several times at practice, but you were too shy to actually introduce yourself. It took Bokuto literally shoving you at the poor boy for you to finally say hi. Something about Akaashi reminded you of home. His personality reflected several different members of your previous male team and something in particular about him often had you with a reminiscent smile. He was determined like Semi and incredibly proper like Ushijima. You even saw bits of Tendou in his sass and it was within a few days that you decided that this boy was going to be one of your best-friends.

The pretty-setter was in advanced classes and had no problems being included in courses with his older senpai’s. In the study group, Akaashi was the one often leading the charge and you thanked the stars for blessing your life with such an amazing guy.

By the time it was your third-year, Akaashi was already tired of your shit and would steer you away from any team with a semblance of purple in their uniform. Of course, he could never fully keep you from your original idiots and had to withstand it eventually. You progressed onto becoming vice-captain with your exuberant setter at the lead. The men’s vice-captain wondered on several occasions how the two leading counter-parts were so completely opposite to himself. You almost felt bad, but you knew that Akaashi secretly loved the attention he received from the extroverted cast. Between the two captain’s, you found yourself to be a tiny bit tamer and that caused Akaashi to find friendship in you.

It was during your last Spring Tournament that you felt your heart break. You were entirely focused on the winning title, but of course seeing the boys of Shiratorizawa was something you looked forward to. It was an added bonus to achieving a spot on the national scene. Sure, it was amazing for your volleyball team to achieve a title of that high regard. But it was never about the destination, but the journey. And you had multiple memories of fun and laughter when your team hung-out with Shiratorizawa.

But they never showed up.

You rubbed your eyes to reread the brackets, the name ‘Shiratorizawa’ never appearing on the paper. You asked Bokuto if there was a typo, but he was proud to reply that his apprentice finally brought the great Ushijima to his knees. You knew Karasuno joined the Kanto training camp during the summer, but that did not imply anything. Sure, it was to train powerhouse schools, but neither Shinzen nor Ubugawa qualified for nationals this year.

And yet, after watching the last two sets of Karasuno vs. Shiratorizawa, you knew.

It was over.

Your paradise was long gone and you wondered why Tendou never brought-up the subject while he kept in close-contact with you. You kept your friendship with Tendou throughout high-school. He was eager to text and had no reserves about calling you. Ohira and Semi were both polite, but kept a considerable distance since you were only on generally nice terms before. They had no reason to make the effort and reach out to you. Seokawa had his own problems. And you heard from Tendou that the poor vice-captain was on the chopping block from the starting lineup from the hands of a new first-year.

Ushijima… He was continually elusive. Whether in-front of you or miles away, Wakatoshi would speak to you in concise words or none at all. You were okay with that in junior high, but the emptiness of his expressions seemed to echo with every day you were apart. You were close to the ace before you left, one of the few proud females to call him your friend. The two of you had a mutual understanding, able to communicate without words and truly appreciate the other person. He was not another pretty face to you, but a genuine cinnamon roll who needed help in the world. Ushijima was brutally honest and incredibly dense, traits that radiated in the young-male that you understood from his upbringing.

And yet, when you confessed your feelings to him before you left, he simply replied, “Thanks, you’re a good friend. I like you too.”

Out of embarrassment, you did not want to push the subject and just nodded at his words. Despite the limited amount of terms in his vernacular, Ushijima seemed to always make them sting in your heart. Tendou heard the news secondhand from his best-friend and attempted to confront you, but by then you were long gone. It was easier to dodge the questions when the eyes of the guess monster were not narrowing before you.

Most of the graduating volleyball players who continued with the sport advanced to a prominently volleyball-oriented college. So you were stuck with Bokuto, Kuroo, and many others for another four-years, not that you were complaining. This also implied another four-years of being included in party central and that thought alone made you tired. To your astonishment, Tendou had informed you that Ushijima was also going to Tokyo U, along with a few others from the Miyagi prefecture. You were excited at the prospect of being reunited with a few others, but was quickly heart-broken at the news of the Guess Monster quitting volleyball.

You could only imagine a team with both the owl and cat. It must be hella scary for the opponent! Kuroo, you were sure, was one of the best middle-blockers in the Kanto prefecture and having two formidable aces only added to the team’s repertoire. One more year and Akaashi would join them. That would be the power team you would pay to see. But after spotting the gaudy, yet incredible skill of Oikawa Tooru, you stated that the team was overpowered and needed to be fixed because it was simply unfair.

Your training with Yaku did not betray you and you were proud to represent Japan on the professional scene. Seeing your past rivals from Niiyama High only fueled your passion. It proved your ability to stand at the same level next to previously prestigious “queens of the court.” Only one other female enrolled in Tokyo U with you from Fukurōdani Academy and the two of you were roommates. She was your only friendly familiar face on the team and it seemed like the Miyagi prefecture had more strong males in volleyball than females for the school-year.

The sport itself was nothing in comparison to high-school. Even while attending a private academy, your time at Fukurōdani was more laid-back than college. The men’s and women’s volleyball teams were entirely separate entities and they were not as close-knit like in high-school. Bokuto and yourself had a tight friendship and kept your study group from Fukurōdani, with the addition of Kuroo and Oikawa. As the schoolyear progressed, you saw the addition of Yaku and even later Ushijima.

The only times you really hung-out with the boys was concerning class or getting lit. Kuroo was a party-animal and you learned the different player’s names as they flit through party to party. And since Ushijima was the way he was, you almost never saw him. It was ironic. Tendou attended school in Tokyo as well, but at an entirely different college. And yet you talked to him more than Ushijima, who was always only a few minutes walking-distance.

That was until your spring semester, when you had to share a general-education class with the ace. Ushijima did not ignore you, he acknowledged your presence with a friendly head-nod, but never actually engaged in conversation. It had been three full years since you had a meaningful conversation with someone who used to be your best-friend. Akaashi advised you to stop acting like a little bitch and actually talk to him. And you decided on not letting this opportunity slide.

At the start of the next biology class, you took the seat next to Ushijima’s usual spot. You saw the almost unperceivable narrowing of his dark eyes as they gazed over you, but held your ground. There were a few minutes to the start of class, so you initiated conversation.

“So how’s volleyball?” Three years of not talking and that’s your leading question?? You internally screamed, but later thought of it as appropriate. Ball was literally life for Ushijima, so asking a question of ‘how are you’ would undoubtedly include the sport.

“Fine.”

“How are you handling Bokuto?”

“He is loud, but a rational spiker who is good for the team.”

“Yeah, he tends to bring out the best in other people.”

“Ah.”

“One more year and Sakusa is rumored to join the college team. Looks like Tokyo U might have more rivals within the team than on the outside.”

“I will accept anyone’s challenge.”

“… Nice.”

So much for that! You sighed outwardly, labeling your attempt as a defeat and willing to just end the conversation there. He seemed to notice your distress, but made no effort to address it. Instead, you took out your phone and readied to text Tendou depicting your failure.

Right when you were going to click send, Ushijima spoke and took away from your line of thought, “You were the vice-captain of the women’s team at Fukurōdani Academy.” He was stating more than asking and you simply nodded to affirm his statement.

“How did you know?”

“Tendou supplied daily updates on your status.”

“Oh..” You were inwardly blushing. The Guess Monster was such an instigator, even when he was miles away he was trying to set you up with his ace! You found his actions loyal and damn, he was hard-core bro.

“It is rare for a libero to be chosen to lead a team.”

“I didn’t exactly do that… My friend who was the captain was much more inspirational and had no problems rallying the team. I was more of the foundation that would support you from the distance.”

“Many do not realize the importance of a libero.” The statement was completely ambiguous and you were unsure if it was a compliment or something Ushijima was simply stating.

Your conversations continued on like this for the rest of the semester. The two of you were cordial and even shared lunch several times. However, the dark-haired spiker still spoke with concise and blunt words. To any outsider, it appeared that Ushijima was simply entertaining your attempts at friendship. But you knew. Years of patience and experience had already taught you that Ushiwaka already categorized you as a friend. Otherwise, he would make no effort to even listen to you and would directly shut you down.

During the break, many of the students would return home for the extended amount of time. And to celebrate their last night, Kuroo of course arranged a party to include their soon-graduating seniors. It was more laid back and invited both the men’s and women’s volleyball team. And for once, during the entire first year of college, you saw Ushijima at a party.

You were, by no definition, a party-animal like your close friends. Bokuto and Kuroo thrived under social events and you viewed it as simply trivial. You could enjoy the occasional party and drinking with your friends. But you preferred smaller groups of hanging-out with the few people you cherished. Lazily watching a movie or playing video games appealed more to you than the party-scene. There was nothing wrong with it! You just preferred something more low-key.

There were certain members of the men’s volleyball team that seemed to simply baffle you with their personalities. Kuroo was the master of provocation and off the court, he was the sass master of the new volleyball mean girls – mean boys? You simply named them the salt squad, since it was easier. The combination of Kurro, Oikawa, and Bokuto was too much for one friend group and you often avoided their loud boisterous voices during a party.

Kuroo, however, had no problem spotting you in the doorway the moment you entered and just as quickly there was a drink in your hand. You sipped away, tasting the familiar flavor of honey jagermeister. Bokuto was probably the happiest of the bunch, singing offtune into the karaoke machine whilst the music of the party boomed around him. There was no doubt he would be sad at losing his senpai’s, but that gloomy thought lasted for a brief moment until he was reminded that Akaashi would soon be joining the squad. You worried for the poor setter – by the end of your third-year Akaashi looked done and you could only imagine him at the end of another four years.

You off-handedly expressed this thought to Bokuto once, who simply waived it off and implied that at least Akaashi will be reunited with you, instigating something yet again. Kuroo agreed before slapping you on the back, offering encouraging words along the lines of you finally hitting that.

“One more month until you’re reunited with your lover boy!” He enthusiastically yelled with a distant Haruki agreeing. You rolled your eyes and pushed him away jokingly.

The two – with the help of even Kuroo! – had no problems shipping you and Akaashi together throughout high-school, even going as far to lock the two of you in the storage closet. But you knew. Akaashi had his eyes set on someone else, they were just too oblivious to see how enraptured the setter was. If anything, Akaashi was the brother you never had.

The party was loud and you wondered how none of the RA’s attempted to break-up the source of probably many complaints. It occurred to you somewhere along the way that they were probably at the party as well. It was the end of the schoolyear, of course everyone would be more laid back.

Oikawa offered you a hello and took a quick snap with you for social media before continuing to flit through the party. You wandered on your own, spotting other members of your team and waving joyfully at them. A different red solo cup made its way in your hands, bringing the grand total of drinks to four full red-solo cups in five minutes. There was music booming through the rooms and you were not a dancer, so you steered clear of that particular area. Once you reached the living-room, there was a large aura projecting discomfort and looking entirely out of place.

Ushijima was sitting on the couch, looking incredibly bored and sporting his usual stoic-look, sandwiched between fellow non-party animals, one who you recognized as Daichi Sawamura. You knew the other was generally calm, but not at all reserved. You made eye-contact with the ace, ready to make your way over and the other two acknowledging it. Daichi offered his seat to you and you figured this was an incredibly rare opportunity, which you would not be surprised if never happened again.

“You look like a true farmer against us city-folk.”

“That is because I am from a small town.” Ushijima explained.

“I mean, you look out of place. Maybe that wasn’t the best analogy,” You sighed inwardly, “I’m surprised to see you here.”

“It occurred to me that most of the team socializes this way.” Ushijima explained. “This may contribute to future synergy.” You nodded at his line of thinking and sympathized with the ace.

You sat in comfortable silence, occasionally sipping your drink and mid-way realizing you had never experienced this particular burn down your throat before. It was the number one rule at a party to never drink from an open container or simply from something that you were unsure of the contents. You thought back to your first two, given to you by the trustable Kuroo. But the next few drinks drew blanks and it hurt your head to think about it.

Ushijima, spotting your expression, did not hesitate to take the cup out of your hand and set it on the table. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, just wondering what the hell that was.” You held your head and knew there would be an oncoming headache.

You wanted to get fresh-air, getting up without saying goodbye. You pushed through the crowd, faces blurring together and no one really speaking to you directly. The door was not a far distance and you were quick to rush outside. There was a trash-bin by the lightpost and you leaned over it, the feeling of bile crawling up your throat but never fully making it up. An unfamiliar hand was on your back and you turned around to see Ushijima attempting to comfort you.

“This is far from alright.” He noted with hard-eyes, but did not halt the movement on your back.

“I thought I could take it.”

“Where is your dorm?”

“Looking to finally make a move on me, Waka-chan?” Woah, backup! The effects of alcohol seemed to be seeping down in your mind, but there was nothing you could have done to stop the words from leaving your mouth.

Thankfully, the ace ignored your words and put an arm around your waist and threw your own around his shoulder. The poor man carried you back into the building, but to another dorm room. You felt bad for Ushijima, having to drag along a drunkard to probably his own room.

There was no other inhabitant – you figured his roommate was probably at the party – and you took note of the neat room. Ushijima placed you precariously on his bed before going into another area, you presumed the bathroom. The walls were sparsely decorated – you could attribute that to the fact that everyone would be moving out soon for the semester end.

You sat-up, observing the unusually decorated desk of the ace. You knew instantly that it was Ushijima’s since the first frame was of his team back in Shiratorizawa. From his number, it was during a time that Ushijima was captain, but to you that could have literally been any year. It was no secret that Waka was strong and you wondered if he had a leadership role for multiple years. Another frame was depicting prom, you assumed, with various third-years of both the men’s and women’s volleyball team looking snazzy.

The last frame left you breathless.

It was of your junior-high days. Tendou was happily sporting his unforgettable bowl-cut with Reon showcasing his brand new toy in the background. In the foreground, was you and Ushijima side-by-side. You had an arm tucked in his, but the two of you used opposite hands to form a single heart. The only reason he had agreed was at the sly provocation of Tendou and his general naivety.

But why did he keep it?

You were holding the frame by the time Ushijima came out of the bathroom and instantly commented on it, “Look at little Waka-chan! You were so cute. Ha, you’re still cute.” Ushijima lifted an amused brow before attempting to grab it from your hands. He was guiding you to his bed, placing you there to lay down.

“I wish I meant something to you.”

Alright, you were definitely drunk.

His grasp loosened and you could sense distress in the dark-orbs that gazed at you. “You mean a lot to me.”

You sighed and seemed to not notice him tucking you into the bed, “Yeah, yeah. You told me that before. I’m a great friend.”

“You are referring to the time that you stated your feelings for me.” Ushijima clarified and you were only growing more exasperated.

In your alcohol-induced state, you had no filter and lifted your arms in derision. Taking a deep sigh, “Well duh. I confessed and you just waved me off.”

“I want to get to know you again.” Ushijima stated, “Now get some sleep.” You did not have it in you to fight back, but instead snuggled further into the pillows of your previous unrequited love.

The next day, you were sporting a headache that pulsed from the back of your head and hammered its way to the forefront. Ushijima was a gentleman and you had no qualms about waking up in his bed, squeezed between the wall and his large figure. He stirred the moment you moved, but you were too occupied with the throbbing pain to care. It seemed he was prepared for this moment, handing you a banana and a drink that looked too green in your opinion.

Ushijima put a hand in the small of your back, guiding you to sit-up and drink. You leaned into his touch, too mentally exhausted to really question what was happening. His other hand outstretched across your waist and you off-handedly noted that his roommate still had not returned to the dorm. Eye contact with the ace was too intense for the quiet morning, so you leaned further into the steady chest of Ushijima. You could feel the light thump of his heartbeat and closed your eyes against the reliable man.

Three years and it seemed Ushijima still had you in the palm of his hand.

And unfortunately for you, unlike most who get inebriated, you remembered everything from the previous night.

But Ushijima never commented on your leading words, so you decided to not bring them up. There would always be the mental reminder that you slept with the love of your life! And seeing him would just raise a blush. But Ushijima always seemed unconcerned in the matters of love and you let the days pass without bringing up your emotional distress. The last time you confessed did not exactly result in a happy ending, so you were content with saying nothing. You were happy with the simple memories of his strong arms surrounding you and his manly scent. Ushijima did not use scented shampoos or cologne simply because he found no need to, so his particular scent was entirely natural and entirely him.

There was a shift in your friendship, in the small gestures that you were gradually noticing. Ushijima was not a man of words, but of action. After class, he would wait for you to pack your things or even hold your backpack for you. When walking side-by-side, he made sure to keep a closer distance to you than anyone else. These things always garnered a smile.

Finals were quickly approaching and, even though volleyball was your love, you still had to maintain your scholarship. You haunted both the gym and library, your favorite ace trailing behind you at each destination. When majority of the volleyball males failed to show up to another study session, you were left alone with Ushijima. You took this opportunity to throw endless questions at the ace, who was willing to supply answers.

“I don’t remember Shirabu…” You said.

“He did not attend Shiratorizawa in junior high.”

“Oh. But I’m sure he’ll make a good captain.”

“They have enough talent to carry them far.”

“Kind words from the intense ex-captain.” You commented, then continued.

“I heard Daichi Sawamura is from Karasuno.” You simply stated, waiting for him to interject. Ushijima only looked at you expectedly, supplying you with no words. “If you could, would you play Karasuno again?”

“Yes.” He paused, looking down at the textbook then back up at you. “I wanted to crush them.”

“I understand.” You nodded, “Anyone in particular?”

“Hinata Shoyou and Kageyama Tobio.” Ushijima was quick to respond and it was at that moment that he looked true to the scary rumors spread about him.

He was the type of person you could easily irk, but he would not express it unless you pushed him to do so. Waka was naturally patient and would not engage in useless confrontation. Ushijima and Tendou, you remembered, were prime members of the original Shiratorizawa salt squad, but they never actually hated anyone. And yet you could tell here and now that Ushijima’s feelings ran deeper than just animosity.

“The freak quick duo?"

“Only the setter has true talent.” He stated, but you could tell he was holding something back. You reached over and placed a light-hand on his own. Instinctively, Ushijima clenched it, but quickly relaxed under your touch.

“I hate baseless confidence.” Ushijima hesitated again, organizing his thoughts. “Hinata Shoyou was unable to demonstrate below average skill in blocking and receiving. Every time he served it seemed as though it was his first time. And yet…”

You put your book down at his silence, the sentence carrying with no ending. It was baffling to the ace, who was blessed with immense talent and height to carry him to nationals all three years of high-school. And yet his final tournament was stopped short by someone who was a full twenty-five centimeters smaller him. Not only that, but you could only imagine the disappointment after years of absolute victory to a fallen powerhouse.

“It is indescribable with words.” Ushijima settled on saying, “Hinata Shoyou and Kageyama Tobio have incredible synergy that is impossible to duplicate elsewhere.”

You nodded at his explanation before returning back to the study material. It was rare moments like this that showed that Ushijima was willing to open up his world to you. On more than one occasion, it seemed like you were prying. But Waka was quick to end your worrying by supplying questions of his own and even seeking out your friendship. It was slowly becoming like old times, but with the added benefit of a deeper relationship than one in junior high.

The semester break left you alone in Tokyo with your old friends – the Miyagi crew heading home for the extended amount of time. Thankfully, Ushijima fully recognized your growing friendship and made sure to socialize with you on a daily basis, with texts and even long phone calls into the night. It was quieter without Oikawa, but Kuroo and Bokuto were quick to integrate Akaashi into their group. You felt bad for the poor guy, but at least Kenma was attending the college as well. The blonde did not continue playing volleyball, but you could not separate his presence from the sport.

The new semester issued in so many more names that you literally could not keep up with the sheer amount of new volleyball players. You settled on the fact that every pretty person on the team had to be a setter after seeing the full line-up. Oikawa was fairly obvious, but Akaashi and the new addition of Shirabu Kenjiro definitely reinforced this fact. You had a palpable bias for befriending players from the Miyagi prefecture, since that was your previous home, but it was impressive how many of them from that area progressed to the Tokyo University.

You heard a considerable amount about Shirabu from Tendou and you learned quickly that he would add to the salt squad of Oikawa, Kuroo, and Bokuto. Sakusa was incredibly quiet and you wondered why Bokuto painted the poor boy as such an antagonist. Of the top five nationally ranked spikers of your graduating year, three of them were on the same team now. You wondered, several times in fact, how the hell the college was able to procure such a strong team.

Nishinoya was a ball of sunshine and a libero that made you wonder how he slipped under your radar. You got a quick glimpse of his skill when you watched his match against Shiratorizawa, but it was nothing like the upfront experience of his receiving skills. His dexterity was recognized by Yaku and the three of you, along with the other older female libero, formed a training regimen for your benefit.

Since you had priority registration this time, you were able to schedule classes with a friend in each one. Many of the volleyball members took sports medicine as their mandatory science elective and a good amount of you vowed to take it together. It was a class that few others would sign-up for and you were sure that you would all be able to enroll into the same class time. At first, it seemed like a good idea to share a class with many of your close-friends.

But, holy shit, you were wrong.

It was clear that this was not thoroughly considered. Your roommate was so enthusiastic and her attitude was fueled by the mean boy’s trio of Oikawa, Kuroo, and Bokuto. If that was not enough, of course, Akaashi and Ushijima were roped into taking the class.

The elective class, comprised of forty people in total, had a combination of seven crazy volleyball players and it was rare for a class to go by without your group getting yelled at by the professor. Literally, every single one of those boys were the captain of their respective team in high-school. And yet??? How?? You wondered more than once.

It would always start with Oikawa’s never ending anger at Ushijima. From there, Akaashi could either decide to mediate the situation or allow Kuroo to provoke Oikawa more with teasing. If it was the latter, Ushijima seemed immune to their words and that only caused the two to get louder and more irritated. If it was the former, Bokuto would urge Akaashi to allow the two to settle their issues and it easily became an even more exasperating situation.

The worst option, was when the salt squad put aside their issues to provoke the ones around them. In high-school, Kuroo and Bokuto had no problems shipping you with Akaashi and Oikawa caught wind of this news fairly quickly. Your roommate from Fukurodani knew the truth, since you told her your history of Ushijima long before when the two of you were still attending high-school. But that fact did not stop her from joining in teasing you.

It was hella annoying, but your efforts to stop them halted long ago since there seemed to be no end. Both you and Akaashi would usually just ignore their teasing. But since Ushijima was in your class, fully present and listening to this, you stopped their attempts to get you and the setter together.

“But seriously.” Kuroo was urging you yet again during the break, “You guys are so cute.”

“You would have volleyball children!” Oikawa joked.

“Make sure they join the Fukurodani team.” Bokuto added, not looking up from his notebook as he copied down the notes off the board. You would urge on several occasions that this was not the case. Ushijima seemed to believe you words. And yet, every time he was present to hear the teasing his eyes would linger for a second longer or be a little too intense. But it was gone in seconds.

They took it too far one night, claiming to invite everyone out to dinner but only the two of you would be present. Akaashi had no problems with proceeding with dinner and you were fairly hungry. There was originally nothing stopping you from having a good time anyway, if not for the presence of Ushijima Wakatoshi. He just so happened to be present with Tendou at the restaurant, lounging by the window and listening to the boisterous voice of his best-friend.

You wanted to remain unseen, but unfortunately was seated directly next to them.

“(F/N)-chan! Wow are you finally dating?” Tendou asked, skipping all introductions to call you out. “Wait, I’ve seen you a few times on (F/N)’s Instabook. Good for you girl, he’s a good catch too.” Tendou lifted a thumbs-up in your direction and winked at Akaashi.

Akaashi, sick and tired of shit and future shit for the past four years (with an additional imminent three), slapped a palm to his forehead. Tendou gave a nervous laugh when the setter raised his head and settled a hard gaze on the red-head. “We are not dating.”

Akaashi then slowly turned his head to Ushijima and narrowed it with a certain passion that had the ace minimally narrow his brow. However, neither male waivered in their gazes. “I would not be subjected to this if a certain someone,” He took a long pause, “would confess their feelings for (F/N).”

Tendou was only more confused, turning his head to gaze between both boys. “Our friends are trying to get Keiji and I together. So they invited us to dinner and didn’t show up.” You explained.

“Oh.”

Ushijima and Akaashi had yet to relieve themselves of the eye-contact and you wondered why the hell they showcasing here and now their immense male pride. Tendou rolled his eyes and refused to comment on the situation.

Akaashi started, “With all this time (F/N) and I are spending together, we might as well date.”

That elicited a response, however incredibly minimal, from Ushijima. Unfortunately for the previous Shiratorizawa ace, his two best-friends were witnessing his unusual behavior. You and Tendou had spent so much time and were fine-tuned to the quiet man. And the slight narrowing of his gaze did not go unnoticed by either of you. Additionally, Akaashi was incredibly perceptive and observed the movement as well.

Akaashi lifted his chin and continued to push, “Maybe our friends were right. Maybe we should date – it’s not like there’s anything stopping us, right?” Akaashi turned to you and suddenly all three pairs of eyes were concentrating on your response.

Having Ushijima’s tense gaze pointed at you, it was overwhelming. You could see him clench and unclench his fist under the table, a form of stress-relief that you noticed the ace doing more than once in the past.

“What a love triangle we have here.” Tendou commented, smirking away and attempting to disseminate the tense atmosphere.

You opened you mouth to reply, but it was at that moment the waiter approached your table. She asked for your drinks and possible appetizers and by the time she was gone, so was the guess monster and his ace.

“Sorry Tetsurō jr., since when did you provoke other people?” You inquired the setter across the table from you.

“I always have, you’re just too dense to realize.”

“Excuse me?!”

“I spend most of my time with Kuroo-san, Oikawa-san, and Shirabu. Believe me, I’m the good one.”

“You mean Kōtarō is the good one.”

“Yeah right,” Akaashi scoffed and you tilted your head in surprise, “The moment you walk away Bokuto-san has no problems ogling your ass like the rest of them.”

The rest of your night went along smoothly, with of course, more teasing between you and the setter. Your friendship never wavered, even with a good year apart (not really since c’mon you texted all the time and had dinner multiple times together anyway). It was nice to have the entire squad back, but this time including your most beloved member from Shiratorizawa and other crazy Miyagi members. It was like your second-year at Fukurōdani Academy, but better.

Akaashi walked you back to your dorm, since he was a gentleman, not matter how sassy. You waited outside your door and he was quick to say something, “Don’t think I’m going to kiss you. I just said those things to elicit a response from your crush.”

You laughed as you smiled, “Really?”

“You’re cute (F/N), maybe in another life we could be together. Who knows? We could have been married, had cute volleyball babies, and spent our lives basking in one another’s company.” Akaashi tenderly stated, gently pushing a strand of hair behind your ear, before his entire expression dropped, “But for now, you’re not worth getting my ass beat.”

“Wow!”

“Sorry sweetheart, I have my own love to pine unrequitedly for.”

“But she likes you.” Akaashi rolled his eyes and ‘lightly’ pushed you into the door, resulting in you getting thrust fully against the partition.

You landed in a loud thud as you giggled, not at all surprised if your next door neighbors heard it as well. Your door immediately opened to show both your roommate and a furious Ushijima, who quickly guarded you by pushing your body behind him. He looked entirely ready to fight Akaashi and you grabbed the crook of his left elbow before the situation got out of hand.

“Wakatoshi, we were just joking around. Thanks for seeing me home Keiji-kun.” Akaashi had a face you could not describe with words, a mix of two opposites: frightened and belligerent. Like he was prepared for this fight to happen, but already knew that he would lose before going into it.

He waved goodbye and you closed the door lightly, turning towards the two occupants in the room.

Your roommate was the first to talk, “I just realized I forgot something in Bokuto’s room! I should probably go get it before he falls asleep.” And with that lame excuse, she was gone.

“What are you doing here Waka?”

“Do you like Akaashi?”

“Of course, he’s one of my best friends. Akaashi has had my back for the past few years and I honestly can’t imagine high-school without his friendship to anchor me.”

Ushijima nodded and continued, “Would you date Akaashi?”

“Absolutely not.” You replied instantaneously, “I don’t think I could ever be able to view him in that light.”

“Earlier Akaashi referred to the possibility of someone confessing their feelings to you. And that would stop your constant association with him.”

“Yeah…”

“Who was he indicating?” Ushijima seemed genuinely interested and you had no idea how to address the situation.

Akaashi, in his deranged mind, believed that Ushijima returned your feelings and the only barrier to your relationship was your own refusal to confess. But he was wrong, you knew. You knew more than anyone else that Akaashi was wrong in every way. Ushijima’s only love was volleyball. It consumed his heart and mind and there was no room for anyone else, especially not you. And the past few years was enough concrete evidence.

“It doesn’t matter. Akaashi was wrong and just making a false assumption.”

“Then what is stopping you from dating Akaashi?” Ushijima sat on your bed, never breaking eye-contact with you, “You two are intimately acquainted already, single, with similar interests.”

Ushijima never really took an interest in your personal life. He was distant about personal barriers, never even getting close to the line. And yet here he was, freely asking and you were providing answers without hesitation. That was, until that one in particular. You knew the reason already, but to explain that to the object of your affection seemed entirely out of the question. You cherished your friendship with Ushijima and did not want to ruin the dynamic you had just recently rekindled.

“I’ve only had romantic feelings for one person.”

“And that is?”

Taking a deep sigh, you closed your eyes and reopened them to see the expectant eyes of Ushijima Wakatoshi. But they were laced with something else: hope? No, it was pure vulnerability. It was rare to see that on the stern face of your favorite ace, but it was undoubtedly splayed across his visage. You felt the tendrils of hope crawl at the corners of your heart. Even one of the most nationally recognized volleyball players could get anxious, but seeing it was reminder that Ushijima Wakatoshi was human.

A living, breathing, human susceptible to the clutches of emotion and maybe even love.

Grabbing onto your already fading confidence, you dragged out. “You know already. Wakatoshi…” You hesitated for a second, wondering how you should word this, “You’ve had my heart since junior high.” You murmured and quickly looked down at the ground, feeling just as exposed at revealing your darkest secret to your love of nearly eight years.

You returned your eyes back up to the ace, who was gazing fondly back at you. He was off the bed, standing at full height with his mouth open only slightly as if he wanted to say something in reply. He towered over you and you felt the full weight of your confession in the growing silence. Ushijima clenched his jaw and you quickly assumed that your words were a mistake that he did not want to hear - for a second time. Your breath came out ragged and you were sure tears were already formed at the corners of your eyes. You sorely wanted to take it back, to go back just a couples minutes and make up some excuse, but it was far too late.

Eight years was too long to be in love alone.

You clutched at your chest and turned to leave your own dorm, but Ushijima was quicker and grabbed your elbow. He spun you around and you landed softly against his chest, encased in the arms that you yearned to be in since that night you were drunk. He was looking down at you, a rare smile directed towards you alone and that fact single-handedly had your heart soaring. Ushijima nuzzled his nose into your hair and pulled your arms around his body.

“You should have been this clear the first time.” Ushijima spoke, his phrases getting muffled against you and yet you understood every single word. “Since it was been the same for me.”

“What?” You pulled back to look at him, “But you rejected me.”

“No, I did not. If I remember correctly, I told you that I liked you too.” Ushijima corrected, arms resting at your waist to get a good look at you.

“You said I was a good friend! You put me in the friendzone, never to date and just some pal like Tendou.”

“You and Tendou are not the same to me.” Ushijima raised a brow at you, “I do not want to date Tendou. And I certainly do not want to kiss him.” Any argument dissipated in your mouth and you were sure your eyes were wide eggs peering up at Ushijima. One look at his face and you could tell from the amused tilt of his lips that he was teasing you.

You smiled and leaned further into his chest, propping yourself upward on the edges of your toes. He had that small grin reflecting back at you, inclining himself downwards toward your height. Your noses gently bumped one another before he claimed your lips, placing a light peck on the silky skin. It lasted no more than a few seconds before Ushijima leaned back, placing one of his large hands on the back of your head for a more possessive position.

You kissed him eagerly, not showing even the slightest bit of hesitation when he swiped a warm tongue against your lower-lip. In response, you could not stop your growing smile and he was quick to explore your cavern.

Ushijima pulled back after an unmeasurable amount of time, leaving you heavily disheveled and clothes upturned. Never, in your nineteen years of life, would you expect Ushijima to be so passionate in something besides his beloved sport. Placing a curious touch on your lips was enough to signify that they were swollen, you could only imagine how you looked at the moment.

He was leaning his forehead against yours, moving his hands to cover your own and rub tender circles over the skin. “It is around midnight, I do not want to impose over your sleep-schedule.”

“But I don’t want you to leave.” You whispered back, placing a light kiss on the tip of his nose. Seeing the mighty Ushijima with a flushed face ignited a fierce desire in your heart. But when he started biting his lip, you were not sure if you were still breathing.

“Neither do I.” He placed a prolonged peck on your lips, raking a lazy hand through your hair while the other stroked your hip beneath the loose cloth of your shirt.

“We could’ve been doing this the entire time.” You spoke, words coming out in a small whimper under his ministrations.

“Looks like I have to make up for lost time.” Ushijima mumbled near your ear, in his deep husky voice. You nearly mewled purely from his words, but when he lightly sucked at your collarbone, you swear you died right there. The desire you previously felt sparkling beneath the surface was being dragged to the forefront, ready to combust and roaring proudly in your ears. You were surely intoxicated off the glorious specimen that is Ushijima Wakatoshi, the love of your life.

And suddenly he was grasping you chin, nuzzling your noses before lightly brushing your lips against one another. Ushijima paused, barely touching you and yet breathing in the same air, before crushing his lips against yours. He did not hesitate to take your bottom lip into his mouth, sucking away. It was an action so possessive and yet so Ushijima that you moaned into the touch.

“It’s only ever been you.” He murmured against your skin and you were fully unable to respond, head spinning purely off his affection. You never took Ushijima as the type to shower his significant other with fond words, but that was not entirely fair since you never imagined him even dating.

By the time you pulled away, it seemed Ushijima had already placed you to sit on your bed. It was astonishing how much you trusted him, how much he could get away with and you would sincerely follow him. He had a knee of the bed, dominantly hovering over you and invading all personal space.

“Ushijima,” You whispered against his lips, tenderly grabbing his face with both your hands to get a full look at him. He was always handsome, but seeing him with affection pointed only towards you – you were sure that he was your soulmate.

He hummed in question, eyes marginally open and a minute smile gracing his face. You continued, “I love you.”

Ushijima’s smile only grew, “I love you too.”

--------xXxXxXxXxXx------

-> Masterlist -> A/N: Hope you enjoyed the long-ride of this fic! There’s a lot going on and this was made around 2017-ish, so I’m happy that some of it hasn’t been disproven. :))

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bunny-hoodlum · 5 years ago

Text

“Untitled” for NH2020 May “Jealousy”

No one prepares you for the first fall.

Nor the vice around one's heart, the kind that feels like you'll never be the same again if you don't remove it right away.

Naruto was twelve when he became vaguely aware of these concepts, that growing into himself -- whomever that was -- meant dealing with new aches of every severity, shape and sharpness, and removing them like the spiny seeds that clung to his sherbet-orange sweater.

Naruto stumbled out of the bushes, urgency bouncing inside his skull like pachinko balls.

Glancing down at his appearance, he wrapped his hands in his sleeves and swiped at the burrs, only to come away with palmfuls of them.

Throwing his head back, he growled in resignation.

He's been coming here after school for the past two years, ever since they moved from the prefecture north of Hi no Kuni's capital.

This particular sight, though familiar and ordinary, has evolved inside his mind. Once a green ocean to frolic across, the large sports field now resembles an emerald moat around a castle of a high school.

He sprinted across the grass, up the slope and onto the dirt path lining the perimeter. Bypassing the wash sink and the enormous gymnasium, he dashed into the outside corridor between buildings and entered the main school.

From there he made a beeline inside, his black Randoseru bouncing against his back with every step.

Here and there were older kids, boys in their black slacks and buttermilk yellow sweaters, girls in their black skirts, black socks and yellow sweaters. Some wore their red ribbons, others wore their loose or completely undone, or none at all.

Gone were their curious, mirth-filled gazes and amused whispers. Well, for the most part.

"Hey bud, you look like you'd been swimming in sea urchins." said one boy in passing, pointing his finger.

"Yeah, yeah! I know!" Naruto hurried along, his lips fluttering with an exaggerated sigh.

That aside, these teens they paid him no mind, as if he were one of their own.

Because they knew exactly where he was headed.

Naruto reached the Staff Room and pushed the slide door open. Instantly he attracted the eyes of the other teachers, their faces lighting up at his presence.

The first one to greet him was a woman with a brown bob parted from the center, with dark kind eyes and purple eyeshadow.

"Oh, Naruto-chan's here! My day is officially brightened!" said Nohara-sensei, one of the Home-Ecs teachers.

"Hey, what about me?!" interjected an Uchiha her age as he gaped at her in betrayal.

Nohara-sensei's smile remained unchanged.

Adjacent from Uchiha-sensei at the foot of the combined faculty desks, the silver-haired Hatake-sensei greeted him with a two-finger salute, his bored gaze glued to a thin book laid atop his stack of graded assignments.

Amongst these three were four other teachers, one of them being his dad.

"Naruto! You're early today!" His father said matter-of-factly as he spun halfway in his desk chair.

"Yeah! That's because--"

"Excuse me, Namikaze-sensei?" Her voice twinkled like the dreamy dulcet tones of the Kalimba, the air playfully plucked with each clear syllable.

Time slowed down, yet his heartbeat jumped and ran off, like a spooked horse after getting spanked in the buns.

The reason why he's early… The reason is...

His father's attention shifted a foot over his head, a cordial smile taking place. "Oh, Hyuuga-san! Those are the propositions for our Culture Day theme?"

"Yes, Sensei." The owner of that voice crossed the threshold, her gaze falling over him for a moment, and when she smiled at him the world grew quiet beneath the swishing of blood in his ears. And when she beheld him, her eyes curved as though her cheeks were swelled with love, and the only colors that existed were hers.

Hyuuga Hinata circled around the island of desks to hand in the stack of papers, and Naruto watched how his father interacted with one of his beloved students, and how she interacted with him.

Of course his father didn't act the way he does with his wife around his student, but somehow Naruto had to make sure.

And his father was a popular man no matter where he went, no matter where he worked. It never took very long until a new Namikaze-sensei Fanclub established itself, so Naruto had to see if she wasn't one of them.

They spoke and spoke but the topic never strayed and their eyes maintained the same friendly regard.

And yet, wordlessly, in the back of his mind he wondered.

If he stared hard enough, would she look his way again?

She excused herself with a small bow and with delicate precision, she strode towards the door, their business completed.

But as she left the Staff Room, she did not look at him again.

Naruto squeezed the straps of his Randoseru, the aches growing stronger around his chest.

"Naruto," His father called out to him. "I'm afraid I'm still going to be here awhile longer. What did you need?"

Naruto flattened his lips together then transformed his chagrin into a cheery beam.

"I just wanted to see you, Dad."

His father furrowed his brows and hummed questioningly, inciting Naruto to conjure a new excuse.

"Also... there's a new figurine I want." He rubbed the back of his head for extra credulity.

"A figurine? You haven't played Gashapon since you were ten." Even so, his father began to dig around for spare coins in his pants pocket. "What changed?"

Naruto wove around to approach his father. Minato furtively surveyed his son's appearance, the frown pretty much saying 'I've told before to stop going through the bushes', but it was faster for him, the walk to the front entrance taking him an extra ten minutes if he did.

Presenting his empty palm, Naruto accepted the coins and idly counted them to give himself more time.

It looked like just enough for a can of 200% Sweet Café Au Lait, rather than a vacuous plastic figurine.

His father was still waiting for an answer.

"Uhh," Naruto pocketed the coins into his back pants pocket. "I just found one that I really, really want, that's all."

Rin watched Naruto exit the Staff Room, her smile broader than before.

"Naruto-chan is getting cuter everyday." She mused.

"Hm? What is that supposed to mean?" said Obito, a trace of a whine still in his voice.

"Did you see his face when Hyuuga-san arrived?"

Minato lifted his head up from his paperwork, trepidation and intrigue washing over him like a chilly waterfall.

"I know exactly the meaning of that face," Rin continued, her gaze sliding over to Obito whose ears reddened knowingly. And Minato was beginning to connect the dots, though he didn't want to. "Naruto-chan is lovestruck."

_____________________________________

Later that night over dinner, Minato was quiet. Which wasn't particularly unusual when his beloved wife and son always had so much to say.

He loved their vivaciousness, how they seemed to boil over with attitude and excitement at even the smallest source of happiness, never dimming, never tiring. He loved listening to their stories.

"-- And the ball bounced off the goal and smacked Sasuke in the back of the head, and he face-planted the grass!"

"So that's what happened!" Kushina was in tears. "Mikoto called me asking if anything happened at school today."

"What did he say?"

"He told his mother he lost in a fight against three older kids!" Kushina clasped a hand over her mouth, he features scrunching up as though her laughter could escape from her eyes, and Naruto broke down into laughter with her.

Minato's gentle smile pulled up higher, and yet that familiar warmth in his face and thumping in his chest suddenly came with pangs.

But now Minato was looking at his son as though he were shining at a brightness never witnessed before.

Like a TZO hybrid star.

This love that he felt for Kushina hasn't changed since their middle school days.

And with great melancholy Minato imagined that these same feelings were growing inside his son.

_____________________________________

This was one of their rituals.

Minato washing the dishes while he handed them off to Kushina to dry.

It was an easy way to speak amongst themselves like two lovers.

"Is everything alright?" Kushina said as she wiped down a plate and added it to the drying rack beside her.

"Naruto likes someone."

"Huh?! No way! How could he not tell me?!"

"Shh!" Minato threw a glance out the kitchen entryway which lead into the living room. Naruto's blond head could be seen beyond the couch where he sat by the low table, transfixed by the prank show on tv. "He didn't tell me at all. Rin figured it out."

Kushina's shock quickly curled into a sly grin. "Did she now? Well, I wonder who it could be."

Minato grimaced. "She figured that out, too."

"What?! How?!"

Indeed, how? Rin had no business in any other school but theirs. Had Naruto being crushing on a fellow classmate instead, Rin's obtaining of knowledge would certainly be more interesting than the knowledge itself.

Minato propped his elbows against the sink and slumped forward, his hair nearly grazing the froth of dish suds.

Minato couldn't bring himself to say.

It wasn't so much respect of his son's privacy than it was his inability to accept the situation.

"He's growing up too fast."

A beat of silence hung between them before Kushina responded with loving circular strokes along his back.

Minato was the last person you would ever hear gripe nor whine, so this was rather serious.

Kushina then grasped her husband's shoulders and pressed herself against his back and held him.

He slowly angled his head towards her, temple kissing temple and they breathed in their mutual resignation that, yes, Naruto would soon no longer be a child.

No more childish fixations and hobbies, no more innocent observations that made him laugh, no more boundless curiosity where he had all the answers not the internet, no more theatrical 'labor strikes' in demand of an increase of allowance or a trip to the waterpark because Sasuke made it sound like a paradise.

None of that.

He could begin working as early as fifteen if he so desired.

He would afford his own fun, possibly sneak around when his sense of curiosity matured.

Rather than the reward of sharing and impressing his dear old dad, he'll be seduced by the appeal of secrecy and keep things to himself.

He won't desire his father's opinion on anything. At that age, teens believe they know what's best, so they trust themselves above everyone else.

Independence like that is inevitable.

And whoever in the future accepts his feelings, they'll have every part of his son that he’s lost, and Minato isn't ready for any of that.

Kushina chuckled lightly before giving him another supportive squeeze.

"Looks like someone's jealous."

#nh2020 #naruhina2020 #I've decided nothing is official until it's posted on AO3 #Here have more unedited stories from me lol #This is literally all that I've come up with and I am open to building upon it in the future #genre: modern au #age difference #genre: fluff #genre: romance #precocious crush #family feels #minakushi #naruhina #naruhina fic

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polaristranslations · 3 years ago

Text

The Seventh Box

■ ■

Now then.

The story changed a little bit—when it came to Hakobune Middle School's 66th Generation Student Council led by Kumagawa Misogi (although saying it was "led" by Kumagawa Misogi might sound ironic to those who knew him), when I discovered that I had a predecessor that had been in the position of Treasurer before me, the story changed.

Like a bolt from the blue, perhaps.

At the very least, it was the first I'd heard of it—I'd expected as much from President Kumagawa, but not even my brother had said a word of it. Or rather, it felt like the two of them had hidden that fact from me intentionally. No, no, they weren't just trying to hide it—it seemed that they were just trying to get me to think that I would be the first Treasurer in the Executive Committee.

If that was true, you could say those two weren't a bolt from the blue, but a revolt from the blue[?]—in fact, when I heard about it from Akune Kouki, from General Affairs Manager Akune, I wasn't exactly feeling tranquil inside my heart.

It was unpleasant enough having something be hidden from me, but the feeling of having been deceived was rather strong, too—in hindsight, there wasn't really anything wrong with Kumagawa Misogi's words and actions, his behavior, to the point that I could have simply ignored it. But at the time, I didn't understand President Kumagawa at all, you see.

Well.

It's hard to say that I understand anything about Kumagawa Misogi even now, though... But that's not important right now.

At the very least, I could surmise that President Kumagawa didn't have a particularly deep reason in hiding my predecessor from me—but when it came to my brother, there was surely some sort of deep reason to his concealment.

Apparently, my brother had a lot on his mind.

That was true even now, and I really wanted him to live his life a little more refreshingly—and that goes even for the Flask Plan. If he had come to consult me on the matter at a much earlier stage, then maybe—well, I can't help but think that way, but even if he had consulted me, I likely wouldn't have been able to do anything as a middle school third-year.

Hm.

It's not good that I end up grumbling whenever I talk about my brother.

Not to mention it strays from our original goal—because, Torai Kudaki, what you want to hear is about Kumagawa Misogi's middle school days. Well, for the serious type of person that you are, a guy like him may seem like an alien to you, and perhaps even cool in a way... It's not like I don't understand how you feel.

Although, well, I would deny it.

Right, if I heard that from someone, I would definitely deny it.

Even the me from the past would deny it.

However, it was an unshakeable truth that I entered the Student Council because I had an interest in Kumagawa Misogi—and it was true that, after learning the truth that I had a predecessor, I felt a small sense of betrayal.

Something like betrayal.

Against Kumagawa Misogi, it was a pretty empty way of criticizing him—I guess I should say that, in my first year of middle school, I was still young. It's what they call "youthful indiscretion"—but anyway.

After hearing that from General Affairs Manager Akune, I could say it was the natural flow of things to go and visit my predecessor who went by the name of Chinu Namaji.

■ ■

It probably wasn't even that much of a secret.

With the way General Affairs Manager Akune so nonchalantly mentioned it—as if it was more surprising to not know about it—it surely wasn't some sort of taboo or dark history within the Student Council Executive Committee.

Unlike Hakoniwa Academy, Hakobune Middle School wasn't the kind of school with skeletons in the closet.

It didn't have any secrets.

It was something that the people who knew, knew—or rather, students simply didn't know because they didn't care.

About the Treasurer who had taken up post for but an instant, Chinu Namaji.

Later on, I'd confirmed that not even Zenkichi had known about it—well, regardless of whether we cared or not, it was only natural that new students like us wouldn't know about something like that.

Anyway, I received the profile of that Chinu Namaji from General Affairs Manager Akune.

I had every intention of getting a grasp of every student in Hakoniwa Academy when I became President, but that wasn't something I could do as a new student in Hakobune Middle School—thus, I had no prior knowledge about the student named Chinu Namaji.

Apparently, she was a second year.

In other words, the same year as General Affairs Manager Akune.

Though they weren't in the same class—

That day, after school, I went to Chinu Namaji's class to visit her.

She wasn't there.

I thought that she must have gone home already, but when I asked another student that was still there, it seemed she'd gone to club activities.

Hearing that, I figured that Chinu Namaji must have resigned from her position as Treasurer in the Student Council because she wanted to concentrate on—to devote herself to—her club. With that exceedingly ordinary thought in mind, I headed for where the club activities were taking place, as the other student had told me.

That thought was off the mark.

It was too carefree for something this late in the game—the words "exceedingly ordinary" were not something that could possibly exist in front of Kumagawa Misogi.

The club that Chinu Namaji was a part of was the basketball team.

The girls' basketball team.

I was on the taller end for a middle school first year, so I recalled being scouted for the girls' basketball team in the beginning of the school year—this might end up being a weird way to put it, but I wasn't exactly suited for clubs, so I declined.

Anyway, I'd come to the gymnasium.

Of course, I had no intention of getting in the way of Chinu Namaji's club activities, so I'd planned on watching from afar until their practice was over—but once I arrived at the gymnasium, my plans changed.

The gymnasium was being shared by the ballet club and the basketball team—the boys' ballet club, the girls' ballet club, and the boys' basketball team—but it was different for the girls' basketball team.

It was different, in a way.

Well, you could say the team was playing basketball—but in fact, there was just a single girl using one half of the court, dribbling from the half-line to below the basket and then shooting with both hands.

Her movements were sharp.

But to my knowledge, basketball should have been a team game—well, I suppose that's not something I should say, considering I'd tried to handle the Student Council all on my own.

In fact, there had been a time where I'd attempted a five-on-one basketball game myself, but in this case, there wasn't even an opposing team facing that single girl—it was entirely a one-woman show.

Could that girl be Chinu Namaji?

If I were to believe the words of the student that had told me to come here, then that could only be it—but if that was it, then waiting until practice was over seemed like a bad idea.

Had the other members coincidentally just taken a day off today?

But a coincidence like that was hard for me to believe.

Having said that, as mentioned before, just the other day I'd been scouted for the girls' basketball team—at that time, I had definitely been surrounded by several team members.

It was hard to believe that there was now only a single member of the girls' basketball team—it was hard to believe, and yet it seemed that there was some sort of abnormal situation going on here.

So, I called out to the girl in the middle of practice.

"Excuse me. Are you Chinu-senpai?"

"That's right," she said.

It seemed she'd already noticed my gaze—for that was how she responded.

Even as she responded, her hands didn't stop handling the ball.

At that point, instead of going below the basket, she shot the ball from outside the three-point line—it would have been pretty impressive had she made it into the basket just then, but unfortunately, the ball bounced off the rim and rolled across the court to my feet.

It would also have been pretty impressive if she'd shot the ball with the intention of making it roll over to my feet, but that seemed pretty unlikely. Maybe there was a possibility, but it was more reasonable to just normally think that she'd missed her shot.

"And you are, um..."

As she raised her arms, she—Chinu-senpai—spoke.

"Right, right. That girl that not even that Servant of Destruction-kun could destroy—right? Your name was, let's see, Kurokami Medaka-chan."

It seemed she'd heard of me, too—well, it was less that I was famous and more that Akune Kouki's level of recognition was something to consider.

Speaking of which, even in Hakoniwa Academy, Akune Kouki's level of recognition was fairly high—it seems that, no matter where he goes or what he does, flowers will bloom for him. Well, it was mainly his ill repute that reverberated during his middle school days, so I suppose his turnabout in high school is something to praise.

"Although, even if you weren't destroyed, I heard you'd gotten pretty beaten up. Are you all right now?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Well, there's no need to thank me."

Chinu-senpai smiled wryly.

Well, it was true that it was a bit unusual to say thank you to her here—the term "social etiquette" had a strong nuance of formality, but this could be a good example of how it could become comical when applied thoroughly.

"I was able to take off all the bandages and gauze. I recover pretty quickly, you see,"

I said.

"Is that so... Well, I guess it was Servant of Destruction-kun that ended up destroyed, huh."

As she spoke, Chinu-senpai kept her arms in the air.

What was she doing, I wondered. Should I raise my arms back at her—was this some sort of greeting for sports-minded people? But then I noticed the ball at my feet.

Basically, her raised arms meant that I should return the ball to her.

Just barely managing to realize it before almost embarrassing myself, I picked up the ball with my right hand.

Hm?

Yes, my right hand.

I've never really thought about what my dominant hand was, but it's easier to live in society these days if you mainly use your right hand—ah, is that not what you meant? Huh? Then what did you mean?

Girls usually can't hold basketballs in one hand?

But it's hard to dunk the ball if you can't hold it in one hand, right? I would think it's harder to do it with both hands—anyway, Torai Kudaki, what about you?

It's impossible just from the size of your hands?

It's not like my hands are particularly on the larger side—well, whatever.

In any case, I picked up the ball with my right hand and passed it back to Chinu-senpai with one bounce. The reason I did a bounce pass was because I wasn't sure how strong I should return the ball otherwise.

In the past, when I was in fourth grade or so, I tried doing a chest pass to Zenkichi and ended up blowing him away—Zenkichi likes to say I'm lacking in common sense, but I do learn from my experiences.

"Huhu,"

said Chinu-senpai, neatly receiving my pass and entering into a dribble—I thought she'd try shooting again from there, but instead she passed the ball back to me. With a chest pass, at that.

It seemed like that was the flow of things.

Was she telling me to try shooting the ball?

Since my senior had just missed at shooting the ball, I wondered if I, her junior, should now be the one to take a shot here—but I'm only able to think about that now after time had passed. But back then, without really thinking about it, without really trying to read the atmosphere, I simply threw the ball at the basket.

And, without even touching the rim, the ball went in.

I was standing quite a bit behind the three-point line, but that wouldn't really increase my score.

"Haha. You're pretty good. Have you played before? Perhaps in elementary school?"

Chinu-senpai came at me with that question, so I said,

"I've played most sports before,"

in response.

"But I've never specialized in anything—and I wasn't particularly good at team sports, either."

"I see—so you're a genius, just as the rumors say."

"There is no such thing as a genius in this world."

"It sounds like you've never looked in a mirror."

Saying that, Chinu-senpai went to get the ball—and, from below the basket, she tried shooting again. This time, it hit the backboard and neatly fell into the basket.

"Apparently, in the past, they used to use literal baskets. That's how basketball got its name—but, if you think about it, it's kind of strange. Now—or rather, fairly early on—they changed all the baskets to all be the same uniform hoops, but only the name 'basketball' remains. Even though the baskets can no longer be found in the game, people continue to call it 'basketball' without questioning it. It's weird."

"...Well, I suppose so."

That didn't mean that we should start calling it netball, after all this time.

It's pretty hard to change a word that's been established, and if you consider that the name points to the game's origin, it wasn't necessarily being misused, either. So I didn't think it was particularly that strange.

"However," she said.

Chinu-senpai said.

It seemed that her way of picking a fight with the name of basketball was simply a preface, an introduction.

"Though I do feel that the name has deviated a bit—do you know about this? Kurokami-chan. In fact, basketball is a game that was thought up by a single person."

"Is that so?"

I hadn't known that.

Look, I'm not someone that knows everything and anything.

Or rather, I'd been under the impression that most sports came into existence naturally, forming itself over time.

"Yes, it's true—of course, various rules were tacked on afterwards, but basketball is fundamentally a game that was made up by a single gym teacher. Isn't that incredible? That this game, which now boasts a huge number of players and hundreds of millions of dollars in the American pro leagues, originated from a single person—that's the kind of genius I'm talking about."

Chinu-senpai made repeated shots towards the basket.

She was clearly proficient at shooting from that distance, because, at the very least, her free throws never missed.

"Just a single person that made something that spanned eras, that created eras. That's my definition of genius."

"...I see."

I nodded.

"I understand, that's one way of looking at things. It's true that the thoughts and actions of a single person can have a great impact on the world."

Although opinions would probably be divided on whether that itself could be considered genius. However, for example, if you took a superstar NBA player that everyone knew about—basically, someone universally acknowledged as a genius—even so, if the game itself were to not exist, if the game itself were to not be thought of, then that player would not have the capability to be recognized as a genius.

In that case, perhaps I didn't object to the idea that the person who thought of basketball, which led to the birth of many genius players, could himself be called a genius—of course, I was pretty rejecting of the expression of "genius" in the first place, so I couldn't exactly explain it well.

"Yeah. In the end, eras are influenced by individual geniuses."

"...No, I'm not so sure about that. I would say that it's an exception for basketball, and that for most things, for most eras, they were influenced by the actions of a large number of people—don't you think?"

"To think you'd say something like that, Kurokami-chan."

There, she passed the ball to me once again—I caught it with my left hand.

Hm? Yes, with one hand.

"Aren't you one of those individual geniuses that can change eras, that can create eras?—in fact, you were already able to change the era of this Hakobune Middle School. By destroying Servant of Destruction-kun—by destroying Akune Kouki."

"It wasn't my intention to do something so outrageous, though."

But it seemed there were people that referred to Akune Kouki with the over-familiar name of "Servant of Destruction-kun"—even if she had been a part of the same organization as him, I couldn't help but feel slightly uncomfortable at that intimate, or perhaps casual, way of referring to him.

"Hm. Whether or not that was something outrageous will be decided by history from now on—although, for me, it's already been decided. But even so, the thing about you being a genius is beyond help. From a third-party perspective, it's clearly 'true', but you really hate being called it, being described in such a way—both you and Kumagawa-senpai."

"!"

At President Kumagawa's name coming up—I tensed up.

Right.

I hadn't come here to unravel the history of basketball together with Chinu-senpai.

"Kumagawa-senpai also really hates being treated like a genius—it's true that he's not the kind of person that's particularly smart or excels at anything, but if you ask me, there's no one better fit to become a hero that can stir up the current era."

"A—a hero?"

It was a word that fit Kumagawa Misogi even less than the word "genius".

Still carrying the ball, I lowered my hand.

"Chinu-senpai,"

I said.

"I heard that you worked as the Treasurer under Kumagawa Misogi—but why did you quit? And, what happened to the other basketball team members?"

Basketball was thought up by a single person, but was now a game enjoyed by a great number of people—or so it should have been, but if the basketball team was made up of Chinu-senpai alone, then that ran counter to her earlier words.

"It's kind of hard to answer when you just ask why—and it's also hard to answer when you ask what happened. Because—"

Chinu-senpai spoke.

She spoke languidly.

"People are born without meaning, live without relations, and die without worth. That's why."

Those were.

Words that I had heard somewhere before.

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lnarizakis · 5 years ago

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my name is... (part 6) | a. keiji

masterlist

part 6 | akaashi keiji x f! reader

… One day, just two weeks before Spring Interhigh Nationals, the switching stopped.

All of the memories of (Y/N): her beautiful face, her messy room, her wonderful friendships with Nishinoya and Hinata, and everything about her faded away from Keiji’s mind. All of the memories of Keiji: his piercing gaze, his eyes (oh, his eyes), the beautiful bond he had with his volleyball team, and all that (Y/N) knew of him vanished from her memories. The remnants of what they had remembered lingered as a tiny shadow that persisted to stay.

Eventually, in a week, they forgot everything about each other. All that had remained was that once, in some crazy fever dream they had, it seemed they had switched bodies. They did not question the reality of the situation because there was nothing to question; they had forgotten all they had wanted to question.

A few days before Spring Interhigh Nationals they moved on with their own ways. (Y/N) unconditionally supported the Karasuno High Volleyball Club in their endeavors and their crazy-good first years, and Keiji practiced non-stop with the ace, trying to perfect their plays and to memorize all of Bokuto’s weaknesses that would prove useful during games.

—

Picture this: it was two days before Nationals, and (Y/N) was sitting in her room all alone, deciphering the strange picture of a boy her age she had drawn some time back. She was scavenging the deepest parts of her memories, only to come up with nothing except for the embarrassing memory several months ago where before a volleyball game she came to watch, she tapped the shoulder of a boy, only to come face-to-face with a sleepy-eyed boy with his radish-haired friend some steps in front of him. The two taunted that she went to the same school as “the King,” and that they would remain the victors of their game (Their school lost, by the way. It’s rumored that they’ve never gone to Nationals before, despite being super good.).

(Y/N) lied back down on her bed, flustered. She stared up at the ceiling, and grew extremely bored of the long days of winter break. The boredom ceased, as her phone rang. It was Nishinoya Yuu.

“Oh! (Y/N)! You picked up!”

His excited voice rang through her ears like a happy child’s song.

“Of course I did, Yuu. Why’d you call?”

Silence. Then, a long inhale.

“(Y/N)! Nationals are in a few days! I’m really excited and I want you to come! You always attend all of our games and it always makes me excited to see you in the stands cheering me and my team on! Will I see you there? At Nationals, I mean.”

She laughed. Oh, this boy. (Y/N) looked at the luggage she had prepared a couple days in advance.

“I’ve already packed my bags. You better win all the games, Yuu. I don’t want to see you guys come all the way out in Tokyo just for you to lose your first game.”

This time, Yuu laughed, then exclaimed, “(Y/N), you always tell the best jokes! You know we’re gonna win all the games. Don’t doubt it!”

She smiled. She was very excited, and something deep within her seemed to be expecting something. She was waiting for something. (Y/N) was waiting to see… something. She didn’t know what.

(Y/N) decided to keep the conversation flowing by asking Yuu, “So what other schools are we gonna see there? Who’s gonna get obliterated by the hands of Karasuno’s volleyball club?”

Yuu laughed heartily. He thought for a moment, then replied, “Let’s see, we got Nekoma… and Inarizaki… and Itachiyama… and Kamomedai… and Fukurodani…”

He trailed on. Their phone call lasted some couple of hours, and ended with an abrupt bark from Tanaka-san on the other end, telling Yuu to go practice volleyball with him outside. And so they hung up.

(Y/N) looked up at the ceiling once more. She was excited. Very excited. She couldn’t wait… to see Karasuno win. Yes, that was definitely what she was extremely excited for, and that was totally what was getting her heart racing.

—

The Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium was bustling with life. It was loud in every corner of every room, and excitement was buzzing like electricity throughout the air. Shirts were sold, pictures were taken, music was played. The exclaims of “Oh, I’m so nervous!” and “Ah, I can’t wait!” were heard throughout the crowds. The opening ceremony was about to begin.

(Y/N), decked out in whatever she could find that could show at least some support of Karasuno’s volleyball club, weaved through the crowd to find her friends before she seated herself high up to watch the ceremony. She wanted to wish Yuu and Hinata good luck.

Soon enough, she found them, with their black and orange uniforms, some of them teeming with excitement and others trembling in anxiety. (Y/N) ran over to them, calling out their names.

“Yuu! Hinata-kun!”

The two boys turned around, and their faces lit up in excitement. The girl began talking with Yuu first, handing him a good luck charm, and relieving him of his hidden nervousness. He was more overly confident, but he was very excited to see her. She then gravitated towards Hinata, who was currently in a very expressive conversation with two other players from a different school. One of them chuckled as he relished in the praise brought to him by Hinata, whom that guy called his “disciple.”

Behind him was another boy who seemed to be more reserved, but called out to Hinata, telling him that it was okay to tell “Bokuto-san” if he’s wrong. That reserved, quiet boy seemed familiar, but she swears she has never seen him before in her life. The two made eye contact, but they immediately looked away, knowing that it was a little awkward for the both of them, as they had never met before.

Her heart started racing.

An announcement suddenly rang out from the lobby they were currently in, saying that the opening ceremony would start in five minutes and that each team should line up by jersey number order, with the captain leading the line. This caused a greater commotion, and some people to get lost in the crowd. (Y/N) was one of these people, as she tried to make her way back to Karasuno’s cheering section. She once again weaved through the crowd, apologizing to people she accidentally bumped into, and would make awkward eye contact with others.

The quiet, reserved boy with curly black hair and blue eyes also got lost in the crowd. He tried to make his way to his team, but the crowd interfered with his intention. He and the girl made awkward eye contact once again, hoping they would not bump into each other as they passed by in the large crowd.

Something sparked within his heart, as he turned around swiftly and tapped her shoulder.

“Excuse me…”

She turned around. It seemed like time stopped for the two of them as they stared into each other’s eyes and the crowd continued to pass by them.

He asked her, “Have we met before?”

She smiled.

“I thought so too.”

They walked closer to each other so they would not get lost in the sea of people around them. They faced each other, with a growing smile on both of their faces.

Shyly, as he played with his fingers, he asked, “Well, then, what’s your name?”

“My name is…”

—

thank you for reading! i am so happy with all of the positive feedback this fic received. thank you guys for everything! I hope you enjoy this last part! if u guys have questions abt the fic/plot, please let me know so i can answer them!

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! x reader #akaashi keiji #akaashi keiji x reader #haikyuuwritersnet #cadekagi

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jitterbugperson · 4 years ago

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Talentswap Au Pologue: Part 3

This isn’t getting much attention, but I’m still working on it! I really hope more people see this soon, I’m working hard on it and it’s a real passion of mine. Also sorry for any spelling/grammar mistakes, I didn’t read this over before posting this, I wanted to get it out quickly.

Kaede looks at the list in her hands, and goes through it quickly, not dwelling too long on anyone in particular. Each person got pointed to as she went through the list, allowing Kaito a few seconds to try and memorize and match names to appearances.

Kirumi Tojo, Ultimate Martial Artist- Light green long hair tied up with a ribbon, wearing a short button up and tie with a few colored bandaids on her arms.

Himiko Yumeno, Ultimate Pop Sensation- Short bob of red hair, wearing a frilly light red and pink dress with several bracelets on her arms and pins in her hair. The one currently putting the colored band-aids on Kirumi’s arms.

Angie Yonaga, Ultimate Clairvoyant - White hair cut straight and short, wearing a purple cloak, several piercings, scattered tattoos on her exposed skin of her arms, legs, and stomach. Currently talking to Rantaro.

Rantaro Amami, Ultimate Gambler- Short green hair, wearing a vest and bowtie, sleeve of tattoos. Currently listening to Angie ramble.

Gonta Gokuhara, Ultimate Moral Compass- Long green hair in a loose ponytail, very muscular, wearing a school uniform. Trying to get Ryoma to stop smoking

Ryoma Hoshi, Ultimate Biker Gang Leader- Very short, wearing a beanie and leather jacket, carries a pack of cigarettes. Currently smoking and being worried over by Gonta.

Tsumugi Shirogane, Ultimate Swimming Pro- Long blue hair in a high ponytail, wearing a baggy jacket and athletic shorts. Currently talking to Tenko.

Tenko Chabashira, Ultimate Softball Player- Dark green hair in a braid, wearing a star covered ballcap and a jean jacket with pins on it over a t-shirt and pants with holes in them. Currently talking to Tsumugi.

Kiibo Iidabashi, Ultimate Programmer- White hair, wearing a green and grey hoodie and headphones. Currently standing away from the others with his headphones on.

Korekiyo Shinguji, Ultimate Writing Prodigy- Long straight blue hair, round glasses, a small black mask over his mouth, wearing a sweater and jeans. Currently standing next to Kiibo, also away from the main group.

After going through the names, Kaede looks at him with a small smile.

“Got it alright?” She asks, still holding the list. Despite not fully memorizing the people, names, and talents in such a small window of time, he nods.

“Yup.” He’s lying, but she doesn’t seem to catch on, simply folding the paper and putting it back into her pocket.

Kaito lets his eyes wander, gazing over the grouped up people. For the situation they were all in, they seemed surprisingly put together. At least no one was freaking out, so that’s a good sign. They were all ultimates though, so that is to be expected.

He cleared his throat, turning to Kaede.

“So, what now? None of us know how we got here, the windows are closed off, I’m assuming there’s no exit. And there’s no teachers, from what I’ve seen.” He questioned, almost into thin air as Kaede had no answers for him.

Thankfully, there was someone who could answer his question for him. As soon as he asked the question, an annoyingly high pitched voice called out.

“Ahem! Ahem! Mic check, one two! This is a test of the school broadcast system!

It rang out throughout the room, followed by a loud chime.

Ding dong, bing bong

Everyone turned their heads to the noise, and saw a monitor at the front of the room spark to life. Through static, a small, bear shaped silhouette could be seen.

“Am I on? Can everyone hear me? Okay, well then, to all incoming students, I would like to begin the entrance ceremony! We’ll be starting at about… right now! Please make your way to the gym at your earliest convenience. That’s all! I’ll be waiting~”

After the sing-songy voice cut off, everyone stood silent for a few moments.

What the hell?

“What the hell?!” Someone shouted out, speaking what everyone was thinking. Kaito turned to the voice, seeing Miu still staring at the monitor, her face one of confused shock. At her comment, everyone else looked around nervously, unsure what to do,

“Hey now, let’s just stay calm. This is probably just to get us excited for the entrance ceremony, that’s all.” The green haired guy in the vest and bowtie stepped forward, a calm smile on his face. Rantaro, Kaito reminded himself.

“A-Are you sure? This all seems too strange to be normal for a school, but I don’t know.” The kid with the headphones replied nervously, his headphones now dangling at the sides of his neck.

“I’m sure we’ll be okay Kiibo, I mean, we’re all okay now, right?” Himiko smiles at the taller student, who looked away, avoiding eye contact, and instead stared at the ground.

“Yeah, alright.” Kiibo nods, and Himiko grabs his hand in a comforting gesture.

As soon as she does that, there’s a scoff from the front of the entrance hall. Facing the noise, Kaito notices it’s the purple haired kid from earlier, looking at the scene with a small sneer.

Without saying a word, he turns around and walks out of the room, heading down the hall and towards the gymnasium, leaving everyone else behind.

Tenko and Tsumugi exchanged looks.

“What’s his deal?” The girl haired girl commented, snarky and obviously not a fan of his attitude.

“I’m not sure, but he does seem to have the right idea. If the entrance ceremony is starting, wouldn’t it be a good idea to head to the gym?” Tsumugi adds, talking to no one in particular. The others look around, before unanimously deciding that heading to the gym would be the best idea at the moment.

The group of 15 split into smaller groups as they walked down the halls, similar to the groups in the entrance hall. Maki and Shuichi, Tsumugi and Korekiyo, Gonta and Kirumi, Angie, Ryoma, and Rantaro, Tenko, Himiko, and Kiibo, and Kaito, Miu, and Kaede. Together they headed to the gym, the purple haired kid already there waiting for them.

Next to Kaito, he heard Kaede speak up to both him and Miu.

“Don’t you think it’s odd we didn’t see any other students on our way here?”

Now that he thought about it, yeah that did seem pretty weird. Judging by the look on Miu’s face, she thought so too.

“Hey, you’re right. Where the hell is everyone?” Miu shouts out, a little louder than necessary.

The response she got was similar to Kaito’s in the Entrance Hall, replied to by the same high pitched voice.

“Hey there, howdy, hello! Is everyone here?”

Without waiting for anyone to answer, they continued.

“Good! Then, let’s get things rolling!”

As soon as those words were spoken, a small, animatronic teddy bear popped out from behind the podium on the stage, its body split into a half of black and a half of white. No one dared to move or speak for a few seconds, trying to take it in.

“Is that… a stuffed bear?” Korekiyo asked out loud, voice quiet and full of disbelief.

“I am not a stuffed bear!” The bear cried out, angry at that notion.

“I am Monokuma! This school’s headmaster.”

Just when I thought this day couldn’t get any weirder.

The bear stepped down from the podium and walked closer to the students, and the knot of anxiety that’d slowly been accumulating in Kaito’s stomach turned to outright dread as he realized how absolutely screwed they were. This was definitely not a normal school, much too weird for Hope’s Peak, and certainly not a school that made the tiniest bit of sense.

“Nice to meet you all!”

After Monokuma finished his introduction, everyone stood still and quiet, just staring at the bear.

“Um, is anyone else seeing and hearing the same thing? I’m not hallucinating this?” Tsumugi asked, looking at the other for confirmation.

“I am not a stuffed bear!! How many times do I have to tell you!” He yelled out angrily, jumping out at her and causing her to flinch back.

“Eeeeek! Get away from me!!” She yelled, putting her hands in front of her face. Quickly, Tenko, who’d been standing next to Tsumugi, jumped in front of her, hands out wide.

“Back up little dude.” The green-haired girl hissed out, glaring at the bear.

“Stop it, both of you!! It’s not like it can do anything to you, even if it can… walk and talk, for some reason.” Kaede tried to reason, not wanting people to get worked up for no reason.

“No no, little miss jumpy over here has the right idea. I could kill you if I wanted!” The bear chuckled, causing a few people to exchange looks.

“Well, anyway, do you happen to know why we’re here, mister...Monokuma?” Gonta speaks up, ignoring the potential death threat in favor of getting some answers.

“Ah, yes! Of course, that is why I brought you all here!” Monokuma exclaims, and a few students relaxed a bit at the notion that their questions would soon be addressed.

Kaito wasn’t one of those. He wasn’t sure why, but he just felt…off. Something wasn't right here, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Monokuma cleared his throat(?).

“Now, continuing with the entrance ceremony! First, we should address what your school life will be like here! Yes, this should be the first thing to talk about since you’ll be living the rest of your lives out here.”

He said it so calmly, yet Kaito felt his heart stop. Looking around at everyone else, they seem to have heard it too, all wearing similar expressions

“Yes yes, you students are the hope of this world! You will all spend the rest of your life designated only to the grounds of this school, protected from the outside world!”

“H-Huh? That’s not… you’re not serious are you?” Kaito spoke, now hoping that this was all an extremely elaborate prank like he’d thought in the beginning.

“I am one hundred percent serious, my little luckster! But do not worry, we have quite the budget, so your life here will be quite comfortable! You will be more than accommodated for here at the academy.”

“Wait, so we’re stuck here? With no way out?!” Tenko shouts, her eyes wide with fear.

“Yup! You’re all completely cut off from the outside world! You can call for help all you want, but you’re stuck within these walls for the rest of your life!”

The room was silent, everyone quietly panicking at the news that they’re stuck in here forever. What about their f”milies? Their friends on the outside? Their lives on the outside?

“Aww, why do you all look so glum! You all came here of your own free will, didn’t you?”

Well, he isn’t entirely wrong.

“I guess you’ll all be happy to hear, there is something I forgot to mention. There is one way out, and only one.”

Everyone perked their heads up at that, some skeptic, others willing to listen.

“I’ve created a special rule, allowing those who wish to leave the ability to do so! With some conditions of course.”

“Spit it out already, we’re tired of waiting.” Ryoma grumbled, looking heavily annoyed at all this stalling and back and forths.

“Hold your horses, I’m getting to that!” The bear shouted, angry.

“Now then, what I was trying to say is that this school has what is called a Graduation Clause. The lifestyle you all will have here is one of order, but should someone interrupt said order, they and they alone would be allowed to leave.”

Kaito quirked an eyebrow.

“Interrupt the order? What does that mean?”

“Ah, curious one, aren’t you. What I mean by that is, in order to leave, someone needs to commit a crime most unspeakable, one that would truly disrupt the natural order. Murder, to be more specific.”

At that, everyone’s face paled a good few shades.

“Asphyxiation, blood loss, snapping of the neck, cutting off all blood flow to the brain, get creative! It doesn’t matter the process, all that matters is someone’s heart stops beating! That is the only way to escape this school.”

Katio could feel his breath picking up, panic becoming the leading emotion in his head. Kill someone to leave? That’s insane!! He was losing his grip, heart beating out of his chest and his hands gripping the sleeves of the others absurdly tight. A hand dropped to his soldier, surprisingly calm. He looked up and saw the Ultimate Affluent Progeny, lips in a taut line as she stared at the black and white bear.

“What makes you think we’ll just go along with this? Do you forget we’re children? The chances of us getting the nerve to kill someone is absolutely absurd, and this is considering you’re telling the truth. Chances are, this is some trick, a prank of some sort. Why someone would go through this much trouble to prank us, I don’t know, but there is no way you would be allowed to do this, considering some of our home lives.” Kaede spoke with such confidence and authority, the kind Kaito likes to pretend to have but could never amount to. A kind of confidence bread by experience, one she could only get in the kind of life she lives.

The bear quirked his little head.

“You all keep acting like this isn’t real. What is it gonna take to convince you that you’re stuck here forever? Because this isn’t a joke you know.”

As soon as Monokuma finished his sentence, there was a short rustling sound, a blur of motion, and suddenly, Monokuma was being held in the air. Holding him up in a death grip was the short purple haired kid, an ice glare on his face.

“I don’t know what your game is, or what psycho decided it would be a fun idea to mess with us. Whatever your reason, I’m not a fan, so I’m giving you about ten seconds to cut this shit out before I destroy your little toy.”

“A-Ah! This is certainly unexpected!”

“10.”

“Hold on now! You have no idea what I’m capable of little boy-” The grip on the bear’s face tightened.

“9.”

“You don’t want to do this, trust me.”

“8.”

“Alright, if this is what you want!”

“8.” An autonomous voice joined in with the smaller boy’s counting.

“7.”

“Hey, m-maybe you should put it down.” Himiko stepped forward towards the boy and the robot.

“Stay out of this!” The boy snapped, causing Himiko to yank her hand back.

“6.”

“She has a point, I feel like you should let go of the-” Kirumi tried to reason, but was interrupted.

“5.”

There were some metal clanging noises.

“What the hell is that?” Kaito shouted out.

“4.”

“Seriously man, put the damn thing down!” Ryoma shouted, but he was ignored as well.”

“3.”

“2.”

The metal clanging got louder, and Kaito moved before he could think, his panic fueled adrenaline making him do something he normally wouldn’t.

“1.”

As soon as he spoke the last number, Kaito pushed the bear out of his hands, stopping him from destroying it. The boy turned to the much taller one, the icy glare now directed to him.

“What the he-!” He was cut off as metal spikes sprung out of the belly of Monokuma, shooting straight up and out to the spot the kid previously stood, and still would have if he had still been holding the bear. The spikes pierced through the air, ripping through the fabric on the short kid’s shirt sleeve and the side of Kaito’s sweater, cutting through the skin with the tips of the metal. Both let out a surprised cry of pain, and Monokuma dropped on the floor with a small CLANG.

Kaito gripped his side with his opposite hand, a pained grimace on his face as he stared at the bear. He heard a few startled cries from behind him, and soon felt a pair of hands on his shoulders. Turning around, his face met a worried Miu’s, with Kaede soon behind him.

“Holy shit, you alright dude?”

Breathing heavily, Kaito nodded.

“Yeah...yeah I’m okay.”

No one had time to move much before the metal spikes returned to the belly of the robot, sinking back in and being covered up as though they weren’t even there in the first place. Monokuma sprung up with a hearty chuckle.

“Looks like you got saved before I could skewer you! Well, at least now you know that I am serious about this! If that nosy kid hadn’t saved your ass, you’d be good as a shish-kebab!”

He laughed again.

“Now, it’s important to know that violence against the headmaster is strictly against the rules! I’ll let you off with a warning this time, but anyone else who disobeys the rules won’t be let off that easily.”

Everyone was silent, the gravity of the situation finally dawning on those who’d been skeptical before.

“I’m not unfair though! I’ll be giving you all fully digital e-Handbooks so that you know the rules of the school and what not to do! Remember, there are surveillance cameras all over the school, so don’t even think about getting away with anything naughty.”

Dread settled over the entire gym, everyone staring down at the handbooks being held to them as Monokuma went down the line. Once all were handed out, Monokuma straightened out.

“Well then, that’s the end of the entrance ceremony! I hope you all have a wonderfully depressing school life here at the school, and I look forward to what kind of murders you decide to come up with!”

He gave us a small wave, his unnerving half-smile still plastering on his face.

“See ya!”

And like that, he was gone, leaving us all to our own devices.

“Well, shit.”

#talentswap au #trigger happy havoc #drv3 #danganropa #danganronpa au #talentswap

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ruminativerabbi · 4 years ago

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Chanukah 5781

Among President Lincoln’s most famous addresses is surely the one he gave in 1858 as part of his campaign to be elected to the Senate by the people of Illinois and in which he referred to the nation as a “house divided against itself” with respect to the slavery issue that at the time was, indeed, tearing the fabric of American nationhood asunder. Lincoln lost that election (Stephen A. Douglas was elected instead to a second term), but that image of the American republic as a house falling in on itself that cannot endure unless all of its walls and its foundation are somehow brought into alignment has become an enduring image, one cited over the years in countless contexts to describe situations as no less untenable than a house attempting somehow sturdily to exist while its walls go to war with each other.

Lincoln didn’t invent the image. It appears twice in the New Testament, once (in the Gospel of Mark) just as Lincoln used it and once (in the Gospel of Matthew) as a “kingdom divided against itself.” Augustine, bishop of Hippo, whose Confessions was once one of my favorite books, wrote about his conversion experience in similar terms, describing the state of his inner self in the years leading up to his embrace of Christianity as the psychic equivalent of a “house divided against itself.” Whether Lincoln read the Confessions, I don’t know. (For more on Lincoln’s reading habits, click here.) But I can’t imagine he didn’t know Thomas Paine’s 1776 pamphlet Common Sense, truly one of the most important documents in all American history, in which the author uses that exact phrase witheringly to describe the English Constitution the Colonials were about to reject as the law of their land.

Whether or not there were Jewish roots to the expression used by the authors of the Gospels mentioned above, I don’t know. (I haven’t found any exact parallels.) But the concept itself—that there is a line beyond which dissent (including the kind that engenders fiery, passionate debate) becomes not a healthy sign of intellectual vibrancy but a harbinger of impending disaster—that surely was widely understood in Jewish antiquity. Indeed, the Chanukah story—or at least its backstory—is specifically about that notion. Yes, the famous tale about the miracle jug of oil has surely won in the court of public opinion. I’ve written about that story in several places (click here for one example), but the more sober historical sources written in ancient times by contemporaries or near-contemporaries tell a different story. And, indeed, it is precisely the story of a house divided against itself.

For most moderns, the period in question—the centuries between the death of Alexander in 323 BCE and the rise of the Roman Empire towards the end of the first century BCE—is one of relative obscurity. (For a dismal account of the degree to which American high school students are shielded from learning anything of substance about ancient history, click here.) And that reality pertains for most Jewish moderns as well, even despite the fact that those centuries were precisely the ones that witnessed the transformation of old Israelite religion into the earliest versions of what we today would call Judaism.

There’s a natural tendency to imagine that kind of transformation as a kind of slow, ongoing metamorphosis that leads from Point A to Point B. But the reality was far more complicated. And the single part of that reality that was the most fraught with spiritual tension, internecine strife, and the real potential for internal schism was the great task laid at the feet of the Jewish people by Hellenism, the version of Greek culture that became—in the very centuries under consideration—a kind of world culture that no sophisticated individual would turn away from merely because he or she wasn’t personally of Greek origin. This was the culture that brought the masterpieces of Greek theater, the classics of Greek philosophy, the masterworks of Homer and Hesiod, and the whole concept of athletics to the world. Opting out was not an option—not for anyone who wished to be thought of as a citizen of the modern world. (The ancients thought of themselves as modern people, of course—just as do we. And that thought will sound just as amusing to people living 2500 years in the future as it does to us with respect to people living 2500 years ago!)

And thus was the stage set for the internal schism that was the “real” background to the Chanukah story.

The Hellenists—eager to be modern, to embrace world culture, to eschew provincialism, and to take their place among the educated classes of their day—wished to embrace all of it. If the Greeks were repulsed by the idea of circumcision, then they were against it too. If the Greeks believed that Homer, Plato, and Euripides existed at the absolute apex of culture, then they wanted to spend their days immersed in the sagas, dialogues, and dramas associated with those individuals, and with dozens of other classic authors as well. If the absolute monotheism of traditional Jewish belief was deemed incompatible with the more sophisticated theological stance espoused by the greatest Greek philosophers, including Socrates himself, then they wished to see the masters of the Temple in Jerusalem reform the worship service there to reflect that stance. In other words, they wanted so desperately to be modern that they lost confidence in the value of their own traditions.

Their opponents, the traditionalists, were no less committed to the all-or-nothing approach: just as the reformers wanted all of it, they themselves wanted none of it. They were repulsed by the theater and by the gymnasium. They refused even to consider the possibility that Sophocles and Aeschylus might well have had something valuable and profound to say about the human condition. The dismissed the Homeric epics as mere storytelling hardly worth the time to consider at all, let alone to study seriously and thoughtfully. And they were certainly not interested in altering the procedures in place for centuries in the Temple to suit a new set of standards imported from Greece. Or anywhere.

The ancient history books, the First and Second Books of the Maccabees primarily but others as well, tell this story in detail. The internal debate among Jewish people had reached the boiling point. And by the time King Antiochus IV finally decided to intervene, the schism had become not merely passionate but violent. The nation was wholly divided against itself. And, as Lincoln would have commented, the nation, now fully divided against itself, was not going to stand for long. Or at all!

After Alexander the Great died, his generals divided up his kingdom. One general, Seleucus, became master of most of the Middle East. Ptolemy became master of Egypt. Israel passed back and forth many times between the Seleucid and Ptolemaic empires, ending up finally as part of the former. And that is why King Antiochus, the Seleucid emperor, was involved in the first place. How, when, and why he intervened is a story unto itself. But that he sought to restore order to a province in his empire that had reached the boiling point is the underlying fact worth considering. Nor is it that difficult to imagine why he would have favored the reformers over the traditionalists: he too was a committed Hellenist who saw one side as aligned with his own beliefs and one side espousing views inimical to them. That he was unexpectedly defeated by a ragtag group of guerilla warriors under the leadership of the Maccabee brothers was, depending on who was telling the story, a miracle or a calamity. That we remember it as the former is an excellent example of how the victors win the right to tell the tale: the losers would have told it entirely differently…but those who survived were eventually swallowed up into a people eager to remember the story positively and in as satisfying a way possible. That’s what losers lose most of all, I suppose: the right to frame the narrative.

I love Chanukah. Even as a child, I liked it—primarily the gelt and the latkes, but also the whole nightly ceremony of lighting the menorah that belonged to my father’s parents before it belonged to my parents and which is at this very moment sitting on our dining room table on Reed Drive. As I’ve grown more sophisticated in my understanding of ancient Jewish history, however, the message underlying all that fun has become more serious in my mind, more monitory, more cautionary. The Jewish people was ultimately weakened, not strengthened by the Maccabees’ victory—which led first, and within a few decades, to the Maccabees’ descendants illegitimately proclaiming themselves kings of Israel, and eventually to the Roman invasion that ended Jewish autonomy in the Land of Israel for millennia. Had the Jews of the time been able to compromise, they would perhaps have created a stronger, more inclusive kind of Judaism open to new ideas…and who knows where that would or could have led? We remember the Maccabees’ victory enthusiastically by framing the story as an “us against them” story featuring a harsh king and his innocent victims. But that’s only one way to tell the story. I understand perfectly well why we’ve always favored the story line that features brave Jewish warriors resisting the domination of a foreign tyrant. But I also see an alternate plot line hiding just behind the preferred narrative, one that features a house collapsing in on itself that needed outside intervention precisely because warring groups within the Jewish people couldn’t engage in meaningful dialogue and learn from each other. That doesn’t ruin Chanukah for me. Just the opposite, actually: it turns the holiday into a thought-provoking opportunity to consider the nature of Judaism in the context of history—and that is something I don’t ever pass up. Who would?

#Chanukah

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zamancollective · 5 years ago

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Sarchal: The Forgotten History of Tehran’s Jewish Ghetto

By Kyle Newman

To reminisce is to remember with pleasure, to recollect past events while indulging in the enjoyment of nostalgic return. It would be too simplistic to say that the Jews of Iran reminisce blissfully about their past in a country with a fraught history of antisemitism, yet too harsh to conclude that the calamities they endured ought to completely overshadow their 2500 years of rich history. Memories of Sarchal, the Jewish ghetto of Tehran, serve as living manifestations of this ambivalent train of thought. A dynamic community that was forced to adapt to the ebb and flow of life under monarchical Shi’a regimes, Sarchal was much more than a physical location that housed Iran’s urban Jews from the dawn of the Safavid dynasty through to the troughs of a new Islamic Republic.

In 1588 CE, the Safavid Shah Abbas I revived the Persian empire after centuries of Mongol and Turkic governance. Fairly benign in policy during the first half of his rule, Shah Abbas I reversed his friendly attitude towards the Jewish population when a convert from the city of Lar impelled a royal edict that would force Jews to wear distinctive badges and headgear. Under this edict, Jews were now formally categorized as najjes (ritually impure) under the empire’s Shi’a theocratic law, and ghettoization would begin with the forced expulsion of Jews from Esfahan who refused to convert to Islam. Those who did convert were forced to practice Judaism secretly until 1661, when an edict would allow them to conditionally return to Judaism through payment of the jizya (a tax levied on religious minorities) and wearing their designated badge.

Conditions worsened for Jews during the Safavid era until one of the last kings of the dynasty, Nadir Shah, came to power in 1736 and abolished Shi’ism as the empire’s official religion. This action enabled Jews in cities like Mashhad, who had previously been subject to forced conversion, to reestablish and regrow their communities. Still, neither prosperity nor persecution were experienced by Jews in a linear fashion: the rise of the Qajar dynasty in 1794 spelled the onset of tightening oppression. The Romanian Jewish traveler and historian J.J. Benjamin wrote about the horrid conditions of Jewish life in Qajar Iran in an account from the mid-19th century:

“They are obliged to live in a separate part of town; for they are considered as unclean creatures… Under the pretext of their being unclean, they are treated with the greatest severity and should they enter a street, inhabited by Mussulmans, they are pelted by the boys and mobs with stones and dirt… For the same reason, they are prohibited to go out when it rains; for it is said the rain would wash dirt off them, which would sully the feet of the Mussulmans.”

Given the Jews’ status as a najjes group, the most straightforward way to limit physical contact between Muslims and Jews was to segregate them geographically. In Iranian cities with high Jewish populations like Esfahan, Kashan, Tehran, and Hamadan, Jews were segregated into designated neighborhoods, sometimes within the main city walls and sometimes outside of them. The internal layout of each mahaleh (ghetto) played an important role in distinguishing Jewish life in Iran from the history of other ethno-religious communities.

One such mahaleh was Sarchal, the Jewish quarter of Tehran. Sarchal was different from other Jewish ghettos in Iran given its location in the nation’s capital city of Tehran, an especially volatile and ever-transforming urban enclave since its founding by Qajar King Agha Mohammad Khan in 1786. Unlike the ghettos of Esfahan and other cities, Sarchal was located within Tehran’s old city walls. It is also unique in its oxymoronic overlap with a network of mosques and its proximity to a center of commerce, Tehran’s grand bazaar. Jews and Muslims in Tehran therefore must have interacted very frequently despite the Qajar regime’s heavy-handed, active efforts to quarantine and suppress Jewish life under their rule.

Sarchal is situated in the southeast corner of old Tehran, contemporarily known as the 12th district. It is directly west of Emamzadeh Yahya, or the birthplace of Imam Yahya, north of Tehran’s grand bazaar, east of Pamenar Bazaar, and south of the Qajar era Masoudieh palace (Map 1). I have also included below a map in Farsi created by Eshaq Shaoul that highlights landmarks, religious structures, and other important sites in the ghetto (Map 2). I have translated his map and included a key identifying the aforementioned sites in English (Map 3).

Map 3 Key:

1. Tamadon School

2. House of Seyed

3. Pamenar Gym (zoorkhaneh)

4. Midwife Zivar’s house

5. Mosque

6. Eshagh Bathhouse

7. Reza Goli Khan Mosque

8. Birthplace of Imam Yahya (Emamzadeh Yahya)

9. Mosque

10. Sepir Hospital

11. Midwife Sabia’s house

12. Mullah Haninah Synagogue

13. Aghajan Bakhshi’s house

14. Chaim Golabgir’s house

15. Ayatollah Behbahani’s house

16. Mosque

17. Ezra Mikhail Synagogue

18. Bookstore

19. Fereshteh Pharmacy

20. Seven Synagogue Alley

21. Eshagh’s second house

22. Sarchal Bathhouse

23. Sarchal Plaza

24. Mosque

25. Morteza Navi Butchershop

26. Hakim Moshiah Bathhouse

27. Hakim Synagogue

28. Torbati Pharmacy

29. Ezra Yaghoub Synagogue

30. Eshagh’s birthhouse

31. Dekhantal house

32. Dardashti’s house

33. Bakery

34. Yogurt Maker

35. Tekiyeh Mosque

36. Zoorkhaneh

Very few of Sarchal’s original structures remain intact today. The “Seven Synagogue Alley,” an alley literally surrounded by seven synagogues behind Sarchal’s main plaza, is now nowhere to be found. All the old Jewish hammams (bathhouses), which were built because Jews and Muslims were not allowed to use the same public baths, are gone, as are the Jewish butcher shops, bakeries, and zoorkhanehah (gymnasiums). The Ezra Yaghoub and Mullah Haninah synagogues are still standing, along with Sapir hospital, Pamenar Mosque (dating to the late Sasanian period), Abol Hassan Mosque, Haj Ali Khan Mosque, and Ayatollah Shah Abadi Mosque.

Street names were also changed following the Islamic Republic regime’s campaign to erase historical and cultural remnants of the Pahlavi era, often replacing them with the names of Shi’a religious and revolutionary martyrs. Cheragh Bargh Street is now Amir Kabir Street, Siroos (Cyrus) Street is now Mostafa Khomeini Street (commemorating Khomeini’s son who died before the 1979 revolution), while Pamenar Bazaar street endured little change and is now Pamenar street (Map 4).

Map 4 Key:

5. Ayatollah Shah Abadi Mosque

8. Birthplace of Imam Yahya (Emamzadeh Yahya)

10. Sepir Hospital

12. Mullah Haninah Synagogue

16. Abol Hassan Mosque

23. Sarchal Plaza

24. Pamenar Mosque

29. Ezra Yaghoub Synagogue

Sarchal originally included every necessity for Iranian Jews to conduct Jewish life in an incredibly small quarter with an area of less than one square mile. On an average day, one could stop by the bakery to pick up bread, visit the yogurt maker or butcher to prepare a meal, exercise at the zoorkhaneh, pray and study at one of nine synagogues, buy medication from either of two local pharmacies, and engage in scholarly life by buying a book from the bookstore. Reminders of a bygone era of Jewish life in the ghetto are echoed in prominent family names like Dardashti, Torbati, Elghanyan, and Hakim that originated in Sarchal, as well as the titles of surviving architectural spaces: “rag seller and tailor” alleyway, “welder’s bazaar,” and “cannonball storage facility.”

Slowly but surely, the massive discrimination of Iranian Jews that kept them ever close to one another in the confines of the mahaleh would reduce to subtlety after Reza Shah Pahlavi came to power in 1925. The official categorization of Jews and other religious minorities as najjes would be abolished, and the political power of the Shi’a clergy greatly weakened, ushering in a new zeitgeist marked by relative religious tolerance, which the Iranian Jewish historian Habib Levy would call “The Golden Age of Iranian Jewry.” Beginning in the 1940s and bleeding into the 1950s, the last remaining Jewish families of the mahalehs of many Iranian cities left their communities of origin for better jobs and assimilation in Northern Tehran. The Jewish communities of Iran-- and with them, Sarchal-- would eventually see their quasi-extinction after the 1979 Revolution, when the vast majority of Jews were compelled or forced to flee their home of 2500 years due to the new wave of institutionalized antisemitism established by the world’s first parliamentary theocracy, The Islamic Republic of Iran.

Whether you read The Proverbs of John Heywood from 1562 or listened to Snoop Dogg’s album “I Wanna Thank Me” from 2019, we are all well aware of the phrase “let bygones be bygones,” but to what degree does this sentiment merit acceptance in the context of Iranian sociopolitical history? As far as Jewish Iranians like me are concerned, forgetting the past can be detrimental to the continuation of our existence. There is a stigma surrounding the word Sarchal; many Persian Jews are reluctant to admit our history of poverty and ghettoization. But anything short of active remembrance would serve as a disrespectful gesture to the rag sellers, fabric dealers, grocers, midwives, homemakers, rabbis, butchers, dairymen, and tailors that made life in ghettoes like Sarchal sustainable and even vibrant, not to mention the Muslim business owners and civilians who continued to associate with Jewish communities despite institutional restrictions that prohibited them from doing so.

Jewish Iranians’ eventual outmigration from the mahalehs was surely a turning point that bolstered their financial success in later years and decades, but our escape from oppression should not negate our responsibility to honor our ancestors who built lives within its confines. In fact, we have much to learn from the Sarchalis who managed to raise families, provide for their community as a whole, and motivate Jewish life in less than one square mile-- with all the odds stacked against them.

References

Bentley, Jerry H, and Herbert F. Ziegler. Traditions & Encounters: A Global Perspective on the Past. New York: McGraw-Hill, 2011. Print.

Fischel, Walter J. “The Jews of Persia, 1795-1940.” Jewish Social Studies, vol. 12, no. 2, 1950, pp. 119–160. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/4464868. Accessed 10 Jan. 2020.

Foltz, Richard (2015). Iran in World History. New York: Oxford University Press.

Levy, Habib (1999). Comprehensive History of the Jews of Iran. Costa Mesa, CA: Mazda Publishers.

Lewis, Bernard. The Jews of Islam: Updated Edition. REV - Revised ed., Princeton University Press, 1984. JSTOR, www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctt6wq0nq. Accessed 10 Jan. 2020.

Sanasarian, Eliz (2000). Religious Minorities in Iran. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Shaoul, Eshagh. “Sarechal.com.... Come Home to the Place You Came From.” Welcome to Sarechal, Eshagh Shaoul, http://sarechal.com/.

Tsadik, Daniel. “JUDEO-PERSIAN COMMUNITIES v. QAJAR PERIOD (1).” Encyclopædia Iranica, XV/1, pp. 108-112 and XV/2, pp. 113-117, available online at http://www.iranicaonline.org/articles/judeo-persian-communities-v-qajar-period. Accessed 10 Jan. 2020.

Vladimir Minorsky. "The Turks, Iran and the Caucasus in the Middle Ages." Variorum Reprints, 1978.

Published on January 10th, 2020.

#nonfiction & opinion #kyle newman

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lets-talk-appella · 6 years ago

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The Trouble with Prom Movies

Bechloe Week 2019: High School

Summary: Beca hates everything about prom. That is, everything except the prom queen.

For @rejection-isnt-failure, who asked for a dialogue prompt like this SEVERAL months ago. Sorry it took me so long, fam.

Word Count: 2.5k

Rating: T

AO3 and FFN

“I really hate you for this.”

“You love me.”

“Um, no. Guess again.”

“Aren’t you having fun?”

“Pouring lemon juice on an open wound would be more fun and less painful,” Beca deadpanned.

Jesse frowned down at her. “Hey, don’t be mean.”

Beca rolled her eyes but tried to contain her bad mood. “Sorry, I know, senior prom, we gotta enjoy.”

Jesse had some ridiculous movie-based fantasy about their senior prom, and how they just had to go together because “Can you even say you were in high school if you didn’t go to senior prom?” Which was completely ridiculous, because of course high school revolved around much more than just a senior prom. But, still, he was her best friend and she knew how much movies (and, therefore, every teen ritual enclosed in such movies) meant to him, so there they were. At prom. Beca’s worst nightmare, basically.

“Exactly,” Jesse said triumphantly, then winced. “Can you stop stepping on my feet?”

Beca muttered an apology under her breath. It wasn’t her fault that heels were both uncomfortable to walk and dance in.

She and Jesse revolved on the spot, dancing with one another awkwardly in the middle of an overcrowded gymnasium. Yep, rather than shelling out for a nice prom venue, their school had enough in the budget to host prom in the gym. Not that Beca really cared where prom was held, but it was stiflingly warm, packed with hundreds of almost-adults dancing badly in their fancy prom clothes. Streamers hung on the walls, and a poorly-done cardboard reproduction of the Eiffel Tower stood in the corner, wrapped in white lights, a constant reminder of the cliché Paris theme. An arch swooped over the main entrance of the gym, next to which stood a somewhat decent photo area with a backdrop of Paris that the art kids had painted.

Overall, Beca had to admit it wasn’t bad, but still. It was prom. And she had to wear a black dress that she kind of hated in order to match Jesse’s black tux.

And she couldn’t stop her eyes from wandering to that familiar red hair, which, even from halfway across the gym, stood out clearly from the crowd. Chloe wore her Prom Queen’s crown as she danced gracefully with her Prom King, Chicago. Because of course the Golden Couple would win Prom King and Queen; she was the cheerleading captain and he was the quarterback.

It was gross and predictable and Beca really wished it didn’t bother her as much as it did.

But she had AP Biology with Chloe and had talked with her a few times, and, well, Beca has eyes. So seeing Chloe with Chicago—instead of, say, with her—bothered her a lot.

“Sorry, Beca,” Jesse muttered, following her line of sight.

Beca sighed. She’d told Jesse all about Chloe (only after he badgered her endlessly for the details). “This blows.”

Jesse nodded understandingly. “As your lesbro, I truly apologize.”

“Yeah, well, since neither of us could go with who we really want…” Beca shrugged.

Jesse’s expression clouded and he looked over Beca’s shoulder, where she knew Aubrey Posen and her date danced.

“You two don’t have a lot in common, you know?” Beca asked, bringing Jesse’s attention back on her. “She’s, like, the entire prom committee.”

Dancing this close to Jesse, she could see the way his eyebrows drew together just slightly. “Oh yeah?” he asked. “Like you and Chloe have anything in common.”

Well, he got her there.

“Whatever,” she grumbled.

“Good comeback,” he smiled, and carefully guided her into a dip just as the slow song ended. Maybe it should have been weird dancing with Jesse to a slow song, but it really wasn’t. They’d known each other since they were kids living next door to each other; they’d been in worse situations.

(Thankfully, Beca had realized she was gay before Jesse had tried to take her on any awkward dates, so they’d avoided that, at least.)

When Jesse pulled her back upright, she dropped her arms from around his shoulders and stepped away. “Okay dude, I’m gonna go get some punch. Hopefully someone bothered to spike it with—”

She cut off abruptly, spotting something that made her stomach clench.

“Uh, Earth to Beca?” Jesse called, waving his hand in front of her face.

She batted his arm down with an impatient sound. “Dude, look.”

“What?” Jesse asked, craning his neck to look around the gym. “Are Amy and Bumper making out again? Because I just ate dinner before this and—”

“No! Gross! I think Chloe and Chicago are fighting,” Beca said, trying to point subtly in their direction. “Be cool.”

“What?” he whipped around and stared, most definitely not subtly.

“Jesse!”

“Oooh, trouble in paradise for the happy couple,” Jesse said as they watched Chloe and Chicago, who were clearly engaged in a heated argument. Chloe stood back from him, leaning forward and pointing a manicured nail at his chest as she ranted, her expression angry. He only glared back at her.

“She looks upset,” Beca said, concerned. She wished she could hear the argument, but they were too far away and the music (who picked Katy Perry?) was too loud.

Jesse shrugged. “Maybe she’s mad because he didn’t get her a corsage to match the dress.”

“Shut up,” Beca hissed, not looking away from Chloe for a second. “Oh shit, look…”

Chloe had whirled on the spot, her light blue dress fluttering and billowing with the motion. She stormed away from Chicago, pushed her way through the throng of students, and made her way under the archway and out of the gym. Chicago only glared after her, then turned to make his way to the punch.

When Beca glanced over, Jesse was already watching her.

It was probably a bad idea. She and Chloe only sort of knew each other, and her crush would be better kept in check instead of fed, but no one else seemed to have noticed the fight, and no one was bothering to check on Chloe, so...

“Should I…?”

“Go!” Jesse urged, waving her away. “Ain’t nothing gonna stop my girl!”

Beca was already moving toward the exit. “Not your girl!” she called over her shoulder, weaving through the crowd.

“Look at my girl!” Jesse shouted as Beca ducked (unnecessarily) under the arch leaving the gym.

Outside the gym, Beca looked around frantically, head swiveling in search of one beautiful redhead with a blue dress. Chloe could have gone anywhere; the library, the bathroom, the auditorium… or simply outside to the front of the school. Beca saw her, illuminated by the exterior building lights, standing on the other side of the glass doors of the main entrance.

Pausing only to grab her leather jacket from coat-check (the sophomore boy running it looked like a little kid and still tried to hit on her), Beca followed Chloe and went outside.

It was chilly for a night in April, especially compared to the heatwave that was the gym. Thankfully, Chloe hadn’t gotten far and was sitting on the main stairs leading up to the building’s entrance, her back to Beca as she looked over the main parking lot.

Abruptly, Beca felt awkward. This wasn’t really her place. She barely knew Chloe. She should probably have just gone back inside, because clearly, Chloe wanted to be left alone.

But...

Beca walked forward, offering Chloe a small smile when she looked over her shoulder at the sound of her approach. “Can I join you?” she asked when she got closer.

Chloe only hesitated for a second before nodding, and Beca took that as a good sign. Being careful of her dress, she perched herself on the step next to Chloe, noticing with some concern that Chloe was shivering; she hadn’t remembered to bring a coat.

“You cold?” Beca asked, then immediately wanted to sink into the steps and disappear. That’s why she was shivering, duh.

“I’m good,” Chloe shrugged, not looking at her.

“Oookayyy,” Beca drew out, feeling more awkward by the second. “So… prom not going well?”

Chloe huffed a little laugh, but Beca knew it wasn’t because what she’d said was funny. “No, not really,” Chloe muttered, drawing her knees up to her chest and staring out over the parking lot. “He’s kind of a dick.”

Beca wanted to roll her eyes but managed to refrain despite the annoyance flaring in her chest. “Then why do you date him?”

Chloe looked over at her, resting her cheek on her knees so that she was folded into a little ball. Beca couldn’t help noticing how beautiful Chloe looked, her hair in an elegant up-do that would have taken Beca hours and no small amount of swearing to achieve.

“I don’t,” Chloe said flatly. “Everyone just thinks we’re together ‘cuz it’s what happens in the movies.”

“Oh.” Beca suddenly felt foolish. And she felt a little happier, because that raised her opinion of Chloe, like, a lot.

And she kind of wanted to smack Jesse upside the head. Stupid movies.

Chloe smiled a little sadly, then shivered again. She rubbed her hands up and down her arms, trying to warm herself up a little, and Beca had to resist the urge to offer to do that for her. That would probably be super weird of her.

So, instead, Beca said, “Here, take my jacket.”

“I told you I’m not cold,” Chloe managed, just in time for another violent shiver to rip through her body.

Beca quirked an eyebrow.

“Fine,” Chloe huffed, reaching for Beca’s leather jacket and draping it over her shoulders. “Thank you,” she said with good grace.

“‘Course,” Beca replied awkwardly, trying to ignore how cold she was now.

Chloe tilted her head, looking at her strangely. “Where’s Jesse? Isn’t he your date?”

“Dude, no way!” Beca burst out. Honestly, she was surprised that Chloe even knew Jesse’s name, much less thought they were together. “He’s just my friend.”

“Oh,” Chloe said, frowning a little.

Beca shifted uncomfortably on the steps, looking away from Chloe and down at her own hands. “Besides, I… I play for the other team, you know?”

She didn’t know what compelled her to come out like this. It was the first time she’d said it to anyone other than her group of friends, and her stomach fluttered with butterflies.

She risked looking back over at Chloe, who looked surprised and had a strange expression on her face.

“Is that a problem?” Beca asked, a little more defensively than she’d intended.

“Not at all,” Chloe breathed, her eyes widening in assurance. “In fact, I—”

“Chloe!”

Beca nearly tumbled down the steps, as startled as she was by Chicago’s harsh voice. As it was, she twisted around to look at him so quickly her neck cracked.

Chloe sighed deeply and rose from the steps, turning slowly to face him. Beca scrambled to her feet as well, struggling a little in her heels.

“What are you doing out here?” Chicago spat, glaring at Chloe. “And what’s that ugly thing you’re wearing?”

“If you mean my jacket—” Beca started angrily, then stopped as soon as Chicago’s dark eyes seared into her. She wasn’t scared of him, exactly, but he was taller than her and a lot bigger. She hesitated.

Just then, one of the main doors burst open again and Jesse came tumbling outside, eyes wild. Relief shone in his face when he saw Beca, only for him to tense when he realized Chicago was between him and her. It made Beca feel better, having him here, but she didn’t want him to get hurt.

“Go away, weirdo. This isn’t any of your business,” Chicago said, glancing back at him before looking at Chloe again. “I asked what you’re doing.”

“I’m getting away from you,” Chloe fired back angrily.

“What?” Chicago’s eyes narrowed.

“You’ve been acting like a pig all night.”

“Oh, ‘cuz… ‘cuz of what I said back there?” Chicago stepped closer, his voice turning soft. His eyes flicked to Beca and away, as if he was hoping she’d go away. “Come on, babe… it’s prom night.”

Chloe stilled dangerously. Beca wasn’t sure she was even breathing.

Chicago shrugged, putting on what he probably thought was a winning smile. “Don’t you wanna… you know… for prom? It’s prom, babe. We gotta. Come back to my house and I can show you—”

Chloe stepped back, her face filled with disgust. “I’ve never wanted anything less in my entire life. Get away from me.”

Chicago’s face contorted into an ugly glare. “You little… you’re gonna regret that.”

He moved toward Chloe, and both Beca and Jesse lunged for him; Chloe got there first. She slapped him across the face so hard that the noise of it echoed around them. Chicago staggered backward, groaning and clutching his cheek.

Beca could only stare at Chloe, beyond impressed.

But Chloe wasn't done. “Stay away from me,” she said, her voice deathly cold. “I mean it.”

With one more glare at her, his cheek flaming red from her slap, Chicago stomped away, headed for the football field to nurse his shattered pride.

“Yeah, go kick a football or something!” Jesse shouted after him. Beca rolled her eyes.

Chloe was still standing ramrod straight, staring in the direction Chicago had disappeared in. Beca tentatively moved closer to her.

“That was pretty badass,” she said, bringing Chloe’s attention to her. “Your hand okay?”

Chloe looked down at her palm as if she’d forgotten what she’d done. “Yeah, it’s fine.”

“Good,” Beca breathed, then shifted her weight. “So, uh, you were saying something. Earlier,” she added when Chloe looked confused.

Chloe’s expression cleared. “Oh, um, right,” she muttered, glancing toward Jesse.

Thankfully, Jesse got the hint; with an extremely not-subtle thumbs up to Beca, he turned and went back inside.

“Sorry about him,” Beca felt the need to apologize. “He’s seen too many movies.”

The ghost of a smile played around Chloe’s lips. “It’s okay. Um, I was gonna say… well, would you wanna, maybe, study together sometime?”

Beca blinked. As far as she knew, Chloe was a straight-A student. “For bio?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“But aren’t you, like, really good at that? Do you need a tutor? Because I’m really not—”

“Beca.”

“—good at biology at all, I’m only taking the AP class because—”

“Beca!” Chloe laughed, putting her hands up. “I’m trying to ask you on a date,” she said softly, shaking her head with what Beca really, really hoped was affection and not pity for her obtuseness.

“Oh!” Beca said. “Oh, you mean, like—with me.”

“Yes, with you. A study… date. Thing. A date,” Chloe finished, her cheeks turning a little pink.

Beca wanted to cheer, or maybe run back into the prom and shout to everyone: “Chloe Beale asked me out! Take that, losers!” But that would be immature and would probably make Chloe change her mind. So she took a deep breath. “I—yeah! Definitely! Let’s do it. That would be cool.”

“Totes. Um, I’ll text you?”

“Sure, let me get my…” Beca trailed off, realizing her phone is in her jacket pocket. The jacket that Chloe still had draped over her.

“I got it,” Chloe said, pulling her phone out of a dress pocket and wiggling her eyebrows. “My dress has pockets,” she said unnecessarily, handing the phone to Beca.

Beca didn’t know what to say to that, so instead she punched her number into Chloe’s phone and handed it back. “Do you wanna, maybe… go dance inside?” she asked, drawing courage from deep within.

“Definitely,” Chloe smiled, and Beca wanted to pinch herself to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

They walked back into the school, dropping Beca’s jacket at coat-check again before re-entering the sweltering gym. Beca looked around for Jesse, so she could explain why he no longer has a dance partner.

“He’s there,” Chloe said, pointing to a corner, where Jesse and—Beca did a double-take—Aubrey were dancing together slowly.

Beca couldn’t contain the smile that broke over her face, and she led Chloe onto the dance floor.

Hmm. Maybe there’s something to movie-type endings after all.

#bechloe #bechloe fic #my writing #beca mitchell #chloe beale #jesse swanson #chicago is a jerk in this #side jaubrey #prom chaperones? what chaperones #bechloe week 2019

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readerficsbyhyaku · 5 years ago

Text

Present Mic (Yamada Hizashi) x Reader Part 1

author’s note

I wrote this in 2016, so it only takes into account the S1 of BNHA. Also wanted to say that the reader is adult. I think of UA high like higher education, when you’re 18 or older.

At last, after all the tests, you were accepted at U.A High. The practical test had gone pretty well, even without any destructive quirk, and it was a relief when the letter came in to inform you that you passed.

You were in class 1-A, with Aizawa-sensei as the homeroom teacher, also known as Eraserhead ! Around you were a lot of people with useful quirks, even though they had their limits. Uraraka that could cancel gravity, Bakugou that had an explosive power totally in line with his aggressive personality, Iida whose effectiveness and righteousness were mimicked in the engines of his calves.

After the acceptance tests however, you had not scored well on the physical abilities test lead by Aizawa-sensei. Your quirk was everything but physical. It did not rely on you, but on the others. It was not the best start to the year.

Yet, Eraserhead was not your only teacher, and a few months in, you decided to ask for help, to another one of the persons there. Present Mic. He was the energetic hero that presented the situation tests, and also an English teacher. His quirk was the Voice one. He could amplify his voice enough to make people’s ears bleed. Considering your own quirk, you thought it could be a good idea to ask him for help. You had to meet him in one of the numerous gymnasiums after your lessons.

When he arrived, he first asked you what was your quirk. You roughly explained it to him.

“Uh, so, I can basically talk to someone and very strongly suggest that person to do something. It also works on machines and animals, anything that can move and process orders. I’ve been told by people it’s like a voice pops up in their head and tells them to do something and they cannot resist…”

“Oh, so you don’t actually need to talk, it’s more like telepathic, isn’t it ?” Present Mic mused.

“No, I still need to form the words with my mouth, it’s just that the person hears it in their mind. It seems weird like that…” you fumbled with your hands. It was always difficult explaining your quirk.

“Hmmm… I don’t really understand. Try using it on me” he responded.

For a short instant, your mind couldn’t really process that you had to use your quirk on someone that asked for it. Oh well. You asked the teacher to stand about 50 meters from you and then used it.

“Come” you mouthed silently to the address of Present Mic.

Present Mic’s POV

It was like an imperious, sensual, deliciously seductive and charismatic voice had boomed in his head, ordering him to come in your direction. His mind went blank, but not totally. It was more like he was only focused on the voice in his head. He could not make anything of his surroundings, be it image or sound. The only thing that mattered was that voice asking him so urgently to come. It was like he was stuck to the ground yet free of his movements, but his only will at the moment was to satisfy what the voice had commanded.

Along with it, his attention was centered on you, and you only. More precisely, your mouth, forming the words as they then echoed in his mind. It was like he could expect them, and they came out. His stare, behind his glasses, was riveted to your lips.

Your POV

You seemed to find that Present Mic did not obey fast enough, because you reiterated your call, more pressing.

“COME !” you enjoin

His whole body then moves and he starts walking towards you. When he is finished crossing the distance separating you, you deactivate your quirk. Present Mic seems to regain the full control of his senses and thoughtfully scratches his chin.

“So it seems it really is some kind of voice quirk… It does not feel like mind control, because I was still conscious of what I did. It was more like… extreme charisma linked to your voice. That’s interesting.” He mumbled while pacing around.

“So !” he exclaimed “Now let’s try out everything we can with your Alter ! Can your control be broken ? To what extent can you suggest an action that is harmful for the person ? For how long can you suggest something ? Are you readyyyyyyy ?”

You nodded “Yes sir !” and the training began.

Every day after school, you sparred with him. He was the guinea pig for each and every experiment, sometimes pushing it to being ordered to walk straight into a pit for the sake of trying out how much you could do with your power. After each session, either your brain or throat was sore of using your quirk to command him. But it did yield results. You got to know how to use it better, what were your limits, what you could ask to someone. You learned that if what you asked coincided with what a person wished, or intended to do, it had absolutely no effect. You had even extended your imperiousness and time limit with the help of Present Mic. He had sometimes managed to break out of your control, but it was much harder now. Your voice was like honey, golden, sweet, and dripping onto the will of your preys, making it melt and bend to your own wishes.

–Timelapse because WHO CARES about all the stuff that happens in between ?–

One day in class, you had to choose your hero alias, the name that was meant to be known by the general public. You had several ideas, but none seemed “hero” enough. Voice girl ? it was not accurate. Controller ? What were you, an Xbox pad ? It did not work. You could not find a way to fully describe what your Alter felt like, when a sudden thought popped into your mind. What about “Whisperer” ? It seemed calm, not aggressive, yet pictured what everybody thought you were doing, whispering your commands to someone or something ! It was perfect !

When it was your turn, you proudly held the whiteboard with your hero name on it. Aizawa-sensei did not seem thrilled, but Midnight totally approved. It felt warm in your heart, to find something that fitted your identity.

–A few days later–

Your training with Present Mic was coming to an end. During those lessons, you had grown fond of the boisterous and completely hyper man that so willingly accepted to submit to your quirk. You were a little sad that those moments would become a part of your past. Even if it was harsh, you enjoyed being able to progress with him. You had not thought about it so much, but as your heart tightened up when you pushed the gym’s door and saw him, waiting, you knew it was a little more than the affection and trust a student put in his mentor.

“Heyy, so what about we have a last run at this, Whisperer ! Come on ! Whisper all you can, I’m all ears ! “ He loudly exclaimed.

You smirked. Oh right.

“Would you please go to about here” you asked, pointing towards roughly 30 meters from yourself.

“Going for the classics I see !” Present Mic mocked.

He was now facing you, like so many times before, his gaze hidden by those flashy orange glasses, a grin plastered on his face. You took a deep breath, and spoke your command.

“Come”

As soon as the silent words had come out of your mouth, Present Mic began walking towards you. As he grew closer, you bit your lips. Closer, your hands twisted. Closer, your heart was beating faster, in expectation of what you were going to do.

When he stood, tall, in front of you, you did not snap your control. You took a deep breath, shakily straightened your skirt, and asked, staring at him dead in the eye through the tainted glasses.

“Kiss me”

At first he did not budge, but then Present Mic bent towards your face, his right hand taking hold of your chin while the left one rose to his glasses. He lifted them up on his forehead, his gaze meeting yours. His lips were only millimeters away from yours when he said

“Ahh… It’s no good using your power for that”

And his mouth crashed onto yours.

It was your turn to be rooted to the ground, taken by surprise. You tried making sense of what he could have meant by that, taking into account he was under your control, your thoughts rushing… but your mind soon refused to function anymore, your eyes closing on their own. You only savoured the moment, the deliciously hot lips of Present Mic on yours, his left hand now on your waist, bringing you closer to him. Ahh… it was so blissful. The kiss came to an end, and after his mouth had left yours, you were scared to move or open an eye. You would have to face the consequences of your acts. But much to your surprise, he kissed you again, and again. You expected him to stop after one, your control was naught, but he continued. Your lips melted onto his, as he grew more passionate, hungrier, yet even tender with every kiss. Your hands were clutching his shoulders, the only grip on reality you had as you liquefied in his hands, no longer master of your own body.

When you were both out of breath, you broke the embrace and shamefully opened your eyes. Present Mic was there, his cheeks sporting a tinge of pink, and his lips stretched in a smug grin, watching you.

“I told you your power was not effective when you ordered what the subject already intended to do” he expressed while making a victory gesture with his fingers, and then started walking back to the door of the gymnasium, leaving you breathless and dumbfounded.

#yamada hizashi #present mic #x reader #fanfiction #romance #ua high #bnha #boku no hero academia #boku no hero x reader #kissing

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kuroo-tetsurou-is-perfect · 5 years ago

Text

Reliable Rookies

Coming at you straight from Haikyuu!! Light Novel VI, it’s the first story in the book, about the bus ride and nonsense leading up to the Shiratorizawa match. Under the cut ‘cause it is looooong!

Reflected in the window pane was a black and blue bruise. It was an injury that happened during the Wakutani Minami match, but rather than that game, Sawamura was thinking about the matches from here on. A heat still radiated from his cheek, but it wouldn't be an obstacle to today's match. He could still play.

"Hey, quiet down, the bus'll be leaving soon."

Inside the microbus was noisy. The captain, Sawamura, lightly stood up from his seat and looked over his teammates. No one appeared to be in a slump, and no one seemed to be in a different mood than usual. Today too was going to be all right.

Three days had passed since October 25th, and the Miyagi representative for the Japan national high school volleyball championship was to be decided today, the last day of the tournament. They had played their usual against Johzenji, the team that had come to play around, taken on the skillful combination plays of Wakutani Minami in an intense air battle against another "Little Giant", and then in the semifinal they took on their fated rivals Aoba Johsai and seized victory against the veteran team. Each match was a fierce battle, and it could be said that Karasuno won a narrow victory in each. Even though they walked a thin tightrope, they won and continued on to finally reach the finals only to come face to face with the genius Ushijima's school, the invincible reigning champions, Shiratorizawa Academy.

"Combining everyone together, huh?"

"Hey, wait a minute," Hinata's panicky voice rose above the others. "Yachi-san is gone!"

"Eh?"

Indeed, inside the bus there was no Yachi to be found. "She was here just a minute ago......." said the senpai manager, Shimizu, searching around as well. The petite Yachi wasn't in her seat, and they checked again to see if she had somehow crawled into the dead space for luggage under the bus, but she wasn't there either.

"Maybe she went to the bathroom. If we just wait a bit, she'll probably show," said Sawamura. Hinata looked up at him suddenly with a face full of anxiety.

"B- but what if she got attacked by someone on the way back!"

"Huh? Seriously, what kind of school do you think....." Sawamura said, initially dismissing it as needless worrying, but truth be told, with Yachi it seemed that the second you took your eyes off her she managed to get dragged into some kind of dangerous situation, and he had a sudden hunch that something might have actually happened to her.

"Just in case, let's go and check the club room. Hinata, why don't you--"

Right as Sawamura started to talk, Azumane called out, "Ah, Daichi, over there!" He was pointing out the window. Sure enough, the figure of Yachi could be seen outside rushing toward the bus. She had a cardboard box under her arm--probably returning with some item that someone forgot. It seemed the notion that she had been attacked was a false premonition, and there was a brief moment of relief, right before she tripped on something and fell tumbling head over heels to the ground.

"Uwa! Yacchan, are you hurt? Are you okay?" Azumane called, pressed to the window nervously. The box Yachi was holding tumbled to the ground as well, and a black bundle spilled out from it. Before anyone could even wonder what it was, the wind started blowing it away.

"Eh--?", all the worried teammates watching Yachi said without thinking at the same time. Yachi, fallen on the other side of the glass, soundlessly reached her hand out to grasp it, as though in a silent movie.

"Wait, what.....?"

"It's 'Fly'!"

"It's flying away!"

It was in fact, Karasuno's banner, now filling with wind like a billowing sail and taking flight. It blocked the faint light of the morning sky, floating away in the air. Sawamura, who had been staring vacantly after the widening jet-black banner, suddenly came to his senses and cried out.

"Hinata, go!"

"Right!" Hinata responded with vigor, already jumping outside.

Yachi, still fallen prostrate on the parking lot asphalt, called out, "Don't worry about me! Get the banner!" Hinata only glanced at her fleetingly before he kicked off the ground.

"That was a good jump...."

Yachi thought she could hear the sound of Hinata kicking dust into the air, and then suddenly Hinata was flying in the sky.

"From an approaching run--!"

Hinata managed to tightly seize the edge of the fluttering banner, when a gust of strong wind set him and the banner flying even higher. From inside the bus, his closely watching teammates went into disarray trying to run out and save him, but somehow Hinata righted his posture in the air and safely landed on both feet.

"Ahhhh, that scared the crap out of me! For a second it was like, fuwaa! Just, fuwaa!!" Hinata said while laughing. "You okay?" he asked, turning to help Yachi stand up.

"Oh, yeah I'm fine! I'm used to falling down! My knees have gotten pretty tough!"

"Your knees?"

Sugawara and Azumane, watching the affair through the bus window, mutually sighed, "Oh thank god," narrowing their eyes like worried parents. Sawamura, too, felt a moment of relief. Now that the manager was back, and the forgotten banner was with them, they could finally head out.

"What the hell even just happened...."

Yachi returned, bowing and scraping in apology to the other club members, and after she took her seat and they made sure Hinata was unentwined from the banner, Sawamura could finally say, "All right, let's head out!"

******

No one missed the bus, and nothing else was forgotten, so they could depart in relative safety. Despite this, while folding up the banner, Yachi continued to fidget, unable to calm down for some reason. The match was to be held at the Sendai City gymnasium, and the road there was not very long. It wasn't the shortest trip, but they only had to travel within the prefecture, a trip they had made several times in the last few days--today in particular happened to be the finals, and as manager, Yachi had only one item of worry.

"So Hinata, um..."

She bent forward in her gently swaying bus seat, having been waiting for an opportunity to check on the situation in the seat behind her. What she saw confirmed her suspicions, and the color suddenly drained from her face. "H-Hinata, are you really...?!"

Tanaka, sitting a few seats further back, saw Yachi beginning to shake and recognized that there was a situation. "What is it?! What's wrong?!" he demanded, rushing to her side. Then he and Yachi together peered into Hinata's face, and their eyes shot open wide.

"Are you seriously going to hurl? You totally look like you're going to throw up!" Tanaka roared in the middle of the bus.

"Eh.....? Hurl? Me.....? I'm totally....totally fine....." Hinata responded feebly, though his voice was completely hoarse and his eyes were sunken and bloodshot. His face was a deep green and he was shaking in his seat like a chihuahua. All vestiges of the bright and cheery kid who had leapt into the air to rescue Karasuno's banner were gone.

If Yachi's one fear was anything, it was certainly this. Hinata's propensity for motion and car sickness had not been overlooked by the volleyball team's manager at all, and she regarded it as a serious affair. As Tanaka was gripping the violently shivering Hinata by the shoulders and shaking him while asking if he was okay, she spoke up.

"Tanaka-senpai, it's okay! Please go back to your seat! I'll take responsibility here and figure something out!"

"O-oh, you sure? Well, if anything happens, just call me over!"

"Will do!"

Putting the burden on her senpai who was preparing for the upcoming match was unacceptable here. Looking after the club members' health care was a job for the manager. Yachi steeled herself and turned to speak up to Hinata.

"Are you alright?"

"F-fine, fine, totally fine here," Hinata said and showed a smile, though as his neck continued to sway in jerking motions along with the bus, it was clear that he was in fact not fine.

"Vomiting saps your stamina, and things like dehydration can occur..."

At Yachi's words, Yamaguchi, sitting across the aisle from Hinata, turned to look at Hinata's exhausted and slumped form with concern.

"We seriously can't have hurling drain your stamina right before nationals."

"Right, and if you fixate on throwing up, everyone around will be worried, and we can't have that either."

"But right before the first qualifier, he threw up. He's a repeat offender."

Tsukishima then decided to force his way into Yachi and Yamaguchi's melancholy conversation. "Well then hasn't he already been conditioned to do it?" Tsukishima offered a malicious smile as he braced his arm against the window frame and rested his cheek on his hand.

The white-faced Hinata turned to glare at him. "Wh... What the hell are you saying?" he demanded.

"You know, like a Pavlovian sort of thing."

"Pavlo....? What the hell, I've never even heard of that sort of.... ugh-" Hinata cut himself off by putting a hand over his confused mouth.

"Here, drink this!" Yachi stood up and offered him a bottle. "I've heard when you sit further forward, it's harder to get motion sick! Want to trade me seats? It's only one row, but maybe even a little bit further up would be..."

"N- no, I can't. If I move it'll come up...."

Hinata had one hand over his mouth and the other braced on the back of the seat in front of him, twitching as he tried to stay completely still, not even blinking his eyes. It became clear to Yachi that the moment he would burst was drawing ever nearer. Hinata was attracting the eyes of more and more other club members sitting elsewhere in the bus, and the atmosphere of tension was growing ever more oppressive.

If she didn't do anything soon....

Yachi thought about it. Earlier she had said to Tanaka that she would "figure something out." She was a manager, who was supposed to look after the safety and security of her fellow club members; she couldn't just stand by and do nothing in this state of emergency.

In this situation, what would her senpai do....?

She turned to rely on Shimizu who was sitting next to her, and Shimizu, face calm and unchanging, quickly opened the window beside her own seat. "Hitoka-chan," she said, "First we need to get him some fresh air. After that, get a bag ready."

"R-right! .....Window! Kageyama-kun, open the window, the window!"

Kageyama startled at Yachi's loud voice. Up 'til now he had been sleeping soundly in the seat beside Hinata, and only now did he wake up, bonking his head on the window glass.

".....uh, what?" With eyes dull with sleep, Kageyama wiped drool from his face, and the second he looked at Hinata, his eyes popped open from looming sense of danger, and he hurried to open the window.

"Hinata you dumbass! Don't you dare throw up here!"

******

Hinata sipped a small mouthful of sports drink, and dipped his head in an apologetic nod.

"Sorry for freaking everyone out..."

Thanks to the autumn wind coming in from windows all over the bus, along with the cold sports drink he was sipping, the absolute worst situation had been narrowly kept in check. Hinata had held out against his nausea.

"Thank goodness..." Yachi muttered, after finally regaining her sense of calm, but to say that the root problem of the Hinata's problem had been addressed would be wildly inaccurate. This still wasn't over.

Yachi soon began pondering this question with the same difficult look on her face that she had before the incident had begun. For a second time, she made an appearance in the aisle and looked back toward Hinata's still green-tinged face to ask him a question.

"So, um, Hinata, have you ever tried taking anti-nausea medicine before you leave your house in the morning?"

"Anti-nausea medicine..." Hinata pondered this with his arms crossed. Before he could respond, Yamaguchi spoke up.

"Anti-nausea medicine tends to make people tired, so right before a match I'm not sure if it would be a good idea. Besides, I don't think it's motion sickness that is the problem; it's more likely the mental strain."

"Is that so? I guess on the way to Tokyo, he didn't throw up."

Tsukishima, who had been listening to Yamaguchi and Yachi's conversation, looked at Hinata derisively. "Self-centered bastard."

"Wha-.... No way! I'm just delicate, that's all!"

While holding back Hinata, who had stood up with great purpose to respond, Yachi muttered "I guess he's feeling better now," with a mixed expression on her face. Then she brought her hands together with a clap, as though having realized something.

"Oh, I know! If we hypnotize him and tell him while he's suggestible that he feels relaxed...."

"Yachi-san, that's a little scary..." Yamaguchi said timidly, and he started looking up alternative ideas to hypnotism in his smartphone. "Hmm, it looks like there's nothing like a pressure point for easing anxiety, but there is a pressure point to stop nausea..."

Peering into his phone screen across the aisle, Hinata asked nervously, "....Pressure point? Maybe, as long as you don't mess up and push the diarrhea pressure point."

"Wh- what the? Don't push the... What the hell kind of pressure point is that....?" Yamaguchi asked, flustered.

Tsukishima looked down on Yamaguchi and Hinata coldly. "Are both of you incapable of being even a little quieter? This isn't a grade school field trip you know."

"The one who pushed the diarrhea pressure point before was Tsukishima! Back in the gym!" Hinata accused, suddenly becoming serious and standing upright.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." Tsukishima averted his eyes and covered his ears with his headphones. Hinata continued to yell at him, but Tsukishima's headphones effectively blocked him out.

"Hey, Tsukishima! I'm talking to you! Take those things off!"

******

".....And just when I thought they were finally starting to quiet down..." Sawamura, sitting several rows behind the boisterous first years, sighed to himself. How dare he even think such a thing, what with all the problem children that had joined the club this year. Maybe it could even have been helped that the vice principle hated them. Well, no, it's not as though this year's first years were an exception to the usual. The second years were loud, too.

As he pondered this, he looked over to the second years sitting behind him, who were arguing over whether or not Shiratorizawa would have cheerleaders.

Sawamura heaved another sigh. Had we really been like that when we were first years? No, no, that couldn't be possible... probably... he pondered, before happening to realize something. From the fruitless quarrelling going on in the seats in front of him, Kageyama's voice was suspiciously absent.

"Don't tell me Kageyama is getting carsick too...?" His rising anxiety had him peering through the gaps between bus seats, but the Kageyama in question was barely moving, head bonking against the window glass with the swaying movement of the bus, snoring soundly.

"I could have sworn he woke up earlier, but he's already passed out again."

"Those guys, I swear it's like they don't feel any kind of pre-finals nerves at all." Azumane muttered enviously. Karasuno's ace was almost certainly drenched in a cold sweat due to pre-finals nerves. As though to dispel the well-established anxiety of said ace, Sugawara laughed.

"Everyone is acting business-as-usual! We must be in pretty good shape today!"

"I guess if everyone was acting differently than usual, I'd be even more worried..."

"Right? If Hinata were suddenly all quiet and serious and completely the opposite of usual, I'd be freaked out."

At Sugawara's words, the formerly stiff Azumane's expression began to soften up.

"....You're right, like if Tsukishima were suddenly all fired up, I wouldn't even know how to handle that. Or a smiling Kageyama."

"Exactly! And if Yamaguchi suddenly became super macho overnight? I wouldn't even know what to say!"

Azumane nearly choked at that one, and even Sawamura who was beside them listening couldn't hold down a chuckle.

"Suga, why is it that Yamaguchi is the only one who physically changed in all this?"

Recognizing his own name come up in his senpai's conversation, Yamaguchi whipped around in his seat. "Eh? What did you say?!"

"Sorry, Yamaguchi. Don't worry about it," reassured the third years, making them laugh even harder.

People arguing, people laughing, extremely confused people--in the very back of this extremely boisterous microbus was Ennoshita, muttering to himself, "Our senpais are the same as always, too..."

[[Sketch insert: Asahi is imagining the nega version of the first years. Tsukishima has a wild expression on his face and his sleeves rolled up, and is shouting, "Azumane-san, today I'm gonna be even more like gwah!!" Kageyama is standing next to him bearing a sparkly smile and a thumbs-up and is informing Tsukishima that his sleeves are rolled up too far. Hinata is standing in front with a serious expression and his arms crossed, asking the other two to please be quiet as he is trying to concentrate. Far in the background is the figure of a preternaturally buff Yamaguchi, crushing a volleyball in one hand.]]

******

At the same time--- In a narrow entryway of an apartment for one, reaching out to grab some car keys was a man's hand. The man attached to it caught a glimpse of a figure in the mirror and gasped.

"......!"

Under a baseball cap pulled low over its head were a pair of sunglasses and a face mask. This suspicious figure in the mirror was in fact, Akiteru--Tsukishima's older brother.

"What the- I thought a burglar had broken in..... Yeah, the mask is probably a little too much, huh? But then again, without the mask, he'll recognize me for sure..."

His brother's words had been "It's fine if you don't come," but the implicit meaning of course was "Don't dare show your face." However, since he wanted to see his little brother playing in Karasuno's uniform with his own eyes, and seeing as he was unwilling to suppress the desire to go cheer for him, he donned a disguise and headed toward Sendai City gymnasium.

"Uwah, is it that time already?"

Akiteru, somewhat flustered, exited the foyer and descended the stairs outside. He was concealing a nervous expression beneath his sunglasses, and it wasn't just because of the very likely possibility that Tsukishima would recognize him. To take down Shiratorizawa with his own hand and go on to the national stage, the orange court--. It was something that Akiteru, the whole time that he was a reserve for Karasuno volleyball club, held as his own dream as well.

******

Also at the same time---

On the Sendai station's subway north-to-south line platform, two boys stood caught up in an argument.

"Koujii, you're taking us the wrong way!"

"Huh? We're going to the gymnasium, so we want the one that's bound for Tomizawa, right?"

"Exactly, but this one will take us in the opposite direction! We can't be late for Shou-chan's match!"

"Eh-- seriously?!"

On the crowded Saturday platform, a line of people coming and going from the train were glaring at the two, who were completely stopped in the way.

They were Izumi and Sekimukai, both of whom had been Hinata's classmates back in Yukigaoka middle school. In a middle school without a volleyball club, Hinata had never given up on his volleyball dreams and continued to put in great effort practicing on his own. They had watched him strive for three whole years as his friends, and when Hinata finally made his appearance in an official match with some extra effort and helpers, they followed him into battle as his teammates.

After determining which was the train bound for Tomizawa and boarding the correct one, the two exchanged somewhat relieved looks. They were aiming for Sendai City Gymnasium, the last stop on the line which was quickly approaching.

"That Shouyou--he's a first year and already a regular. I can hardly believe it!"

"Yeah, even when he was never in a volleyball club in middle school."

"And if he wins today, he'll go to finals? That's amazing! Speaking of which, how's the basketball club going for you?"

"It's going good! I'm aiming to become a regular next year for sure. What about you, Koujii? How's soccer going?"

".....It's going okay. Today I'm just concentrating on cheering for Shouyou."

While hanging onto the subway grip straps, they shared a bitter smile, then they both ended up pulling out their phones to look at their messages from Hinata. Since Hinata had been busy every day with grueling practice, his stories of it were few and far-between, and short.

"I'm not giving up either," Izumi muttered while staring at his phone. He lifted his head and looked at the subway map.

"Ah, our stop is next!"

"Alright, wait up, Shouyou, we'll be there before you know it!"

"Hmm, it sounds more like you're about to pick a fight with Shou-chan, though."

"Eh? Really?"

Their faces, brimming with nerves and anticipation of their old friends' big moment, were reflected in the glass door.

******

Arriving at Sendai City Gymnasium was one microbus, from which poured forth the Karasuno High School volleyball club. The destination venue of their long journey--for the third tournament day in a row, Sawamura beheld the huge building and felt as though his chest were tightening.

Back in June, during the Interhigh Tournament, they didn't have the opportunity to come on the last day. Before this year, even making it past the first day in Sendai City Gymnasium was an insipid dream, but the moment had come at last--he could finally set foot here on the final day.

Without letting the unbelievable excitement touch his face, Sawamura turned to face his teammates and quietly gave them instructions.

"Let's get the luggage taken down."

"On it!"

The balls, the ball basket, the banner---. Each member of the set of matching jerseys grabbed their respective bag and faced the stadium. Once more and for the final time, Sawamura checked the bus for anything forgotten and then stepped off the bus. While doing so, his ear picked up on the sound of a familiar girl's voice.

"We came to cheer for you!"

He stopped and turned to see the girl's volleyball club's former captain, Michimiya, waving her hand to him. With her were her fellow retired third years. Up until yesterday the girl's volleyball club members had all been in classes and couldn't come see the match, but today, a Saturday, they were able to come see the finals, and they ran up to meet Sawamura.

"What happened to your face?! It's bruised!" Michimiya rushed up to Sawamura, surprised to see the side of his face black and blue.

With the appearance of their female senpais in civilian clothes, the first and second years instantly started muttering amongst themselves. Sugawara, however, instantly read the situation and started ushering them along. "Come on, let's all keep going," he urged, and the group reluctantly kept heading for the gymnasium.

"Umm, what I wanted to say is, well... here!" Michimiya said in a conspicuously loud voice, making Yamaguchi turn around to look in response. He saw the scene unfolding behind him and stiffened.

His senpai from the girl's volleyball club was handing something to his captain, her face bright red....

"It's a charm!" he said out loud unthinkingly.

Hinata, standing beside him, chastised, "You're not supposed to be watching!"

Yamaguchi quickly covered Hinata's mouth with his hand, blushing even more deeply than Michimiya. "I wasn't looking!"

"Why are you lying?!"

With a disparaging glance toward the suddenly high-strung first years, Tsukishima started walking away, pushing the basket full of balls.

"Wait for me, Tsukki!"

Yamaguchi was so flustered running after Tsukishima, he ran into something and stopped in his tracks. "Ouch!" It was Kageyama, standing imposingly.

Kageyama was watching the conversation between the captain and former captain shamelessly, in a brazen display of bad manners.

"........"

Hinata interrupted Kageyama's wordless staring by saying "Come on already!" and pulling him toward the entrance of the gymnasium, all the while chiding him on his manners. "Seriously, you can't just stand and stare at people in that sort of situation!"

"....Hey, what do you think that was?"

"What? You mean the charm?"

"Yeah, on the charm, what is it? Do you think it's to help us win? What's written on it? Do you think it's to help with recovery from exhaustion or something?"

Kageyama was craning his neck like his life depended on what was written on that charm. Hinata was utterly amazed.

"Hey, are you actually an idiot?"

"What did you say?!"

Instantly recognizing the wrinkles forming in the space between Kageyama's eyebrows, Hinata took off as fast as he could.

"Wait up! Hinata you dumbass!"

Anyone who would have been available to stop their boisterous game of high-stakes tag was already gone. Sawamura had parted from Michimiya and the other third years to rejoin with his teammates, when he caught sight of those two running around--Hinata fleeing and Kageyama chasing--and pathetically turned his head to the sky in defeat.

"Are those two seriously fighting again? I'm not saying they have to get along, but at least right before the finals...."

Sugawara approached the utterly amazed Sawamura, snickering mischievously.

"Well, they are arguing because of you, you know"

"Eh? Me?"

Sawamura gave Sugawara a blank stare, not realizing he was being surrounded on either side by Sugawara and Azumane, who both clapped their thick-headed teammate on the back and drug him toward the gymnasium.

"Wha- what is this all about, you guys...."

As they dragged their teammate into the building, all while grinning knowingly, Tanaka appeared at Sawamura's side. "Daichi-san!"

Fearing that something had happened, Sawamura was immediately on guard. Tanaka managed to gasp out an explanation of sorts.

"They came! Middle school, to Hinata and Kageyama's match!"

"....Okay, one more time, in order please."

"Ummm, well it's just that, Hinata's...."

Finally making sense of Tanaka's rushed story, Sawamura interrupted him. "Ah, his teammates from back then," he recalled, now seeing Hinata together with two boys in civilian clothes. He remembered last year, going to watch the middle school preliminaries. While they were middle school students, favorite to win the championship, Kitagawa Daiichi, was known for their stability. And when they went up against a mishmash no-name team from left field, Yukigaoka, their match was---.

"Oi, pick up the pace!"

Kageyama's shout brought Hinata to wave goodbye to his friends and rejoin the group.

Back then, while each one was in completely different situations, the two who had fought so desperately as middle school students, were about to take on the invincible champions, Shiratorizawa, together.

******

Upon entering the gymnasium, the ambient sound changed. This was in large part due to the Shiratorizawa cheering section, occupying a majority of the seats in the spectator stands, the commotion from which could be heard echoing off the ceiling. They had known from the start that they were the away team here, but now that they were face to face with the meaning of that, they could barely think. Now there was nothing for it but to tackle their opponent with all their might. Sawamura took a small moment to breathe, then stepped out on to the court.

Here it was, their first time at center court.

Where at one time his senpai had stood, the setting for the final match.

Finally standing in center court, Sawamura drank in the view--which in this case consisted of Hinata and Yamaguchi clutching their sides due to nerves and seeking the toilet, Kageyama taking a power stance in center court, clearly experiencing deep emotion, and Tsukishima glaring into the spectator stands having found out his brother immediately.

"I can't take them anywhere, these guys...."

Amongst the first years, there was absolutely no one with an iota of calm; contrary to suddenly becoming reliable, it was business as usual. Before his eyes, Hinata fell forward and started rolling on the ground. And even while he was yelling, "Hey, it's all in your head, don't spin your wheels uselessly!", Sawamura got to thinking.

When we were first years, I know we did a lot of fruitless wheel-spinning too, didn't we?----

"We're gonna win them all and go to nationals!"

When Sawamura had been a first year, their captain at the time always said that.

Sawamura decided to go to Karasuno after seeing their match in the national tournament, and of course he joined the volleyball club as well. Just like the people he had seen on the court that day, he thought the day had come that he could start working hard in the hopes of one day wearing that uniform.

That dream was soon dashed.

After the famed commander Ukai had retired, Karasuno was left without an experienced coach, and the only other schools that were willing to set up practice matches with were smaller, weaker schools.

Fallen champions, flightless crows.

The days dragged on with no hope and no reward for their hard work, and as unease began to set in, the words of their captain, who seemed to have no grip on reality, went through one ear and right out the other. It was probably just an objective to hold for form's sake.

When Sawamura joined the club, it was because he hoped to be able to play in "That Karasuno" that he saw on TV. However, reality was a bit different. A completed team, the sort that is already established as victors, isn't the team he wanted. You have to build your own team with your own hands---.

Sawamura remembered all his senpais, advisors, and teachers along the way. Then he looked at his teammates on the court around him, and to the spectator stands where the managers were hanging their banner.

---Fly.

It was the same banner that "That Karasuno" had flown.

Now, before his eyes, were his teammates. This was hardly "That Karasuno". It was "Our Karasuno". We who after three long years of hard work, had finally forged our own team.

"We're gonna win it all and go to nationals!"

He remembered the words he had said yesterday before his fellow club members. Now, with today's Karasuno, there was not one among them who did not take these words to heart. Perhaps this was a luxury, but it was one he would not take for granted.

The new Karasuno might be noisy, incapable of calming down, and often seen as problem children that teachers had to keep their eyes on. However, this was the Karasuno High School volleyball club.

On the court, their ace Azumane was shaking and writing the kanji for "person" on his hand over and over again*, at which Sugawara was laughing away. Two years ago, Sawamura thought fondly, he had joined the volleyball club along with these two--together they had come into a team that had fallen from great heights, they had tasted great hardships until finally they were gathered here on this court.

**Writing the kanji for "person" on your hand three times and eating it is a method used to help calm nerves**

Then he looked to Tanaka, Nishinoya, and the other second years, and to the first years who had grown and changed so much compared to how they were in the spring. You guys too, he thought. From here on, it's your team to build.

At that moment there was a heart-wrenching wail.

"Cheerleaders!"

"I'm so jealous!!!"

Their feelings of grief and loud lamentation were immediately shut down. Just as they were being told to "Shut up!", on the other side of the net, their opponents made their appearance.

It was Shiratorizawa Academy.

The crowd, which was getting tired of waiting, roared so loudly at their team's entrance that the very air shook with it.

"Here they are....."

Karasuno's members watched intently with a confusing mixture of curiosity and fear as Shiratorizawa began their warm-up.

They were all looking for the same thing: Ushijima, Shiratorizawa's ace.

Ushijima jumped at a ball tossed lightly and high in the air, and then hit it.

"....Eh?"

The ball made the floor tremble when it bounced, easily flying over the heads of the spectators and up to the second floor into the stands.

It was a sight they had never seen before, and the spectators for Karasuno stiffened at the formidable display. At the overwhelming power before him, even Sawamura could do nothing but watch its intimidating trajectory.

It only made sense. Their opponent was number one in the prefecture, and this was an attacker that was considered the third best high school ace in all of Japan. In a one-on-one scenario, it's possible that there was no one in Karasuno that could rival him. However, in volleyball, there are six people on either side of the court. With the right team, there was no opponent they couldn't match.

And with this Karasuno---

Shiratorizawa's practice had ended. Sawamura placed the charm that Michimiya had given him on the bench, and lead his teammates onto the court.

The Shiratorizawa spectator stands were packed with students, cheerleaders, and even a brass band--even as their call rang over the stadium, Tanaka raised his voice to be heard over them and said to his kouhai, ".....Hey, you two. Do that thing you did yesterday."

Kageyama and Hinata both instinctively turned and nodded in understanding, and Tanaka laughed fearlessly.

The ball went up in a lazy arch.

Hinata leapt into the air, and Kageyama set the ball directly above the net.

Right below, just near their opponent's attack line--the ball bounced on the court almost directly below the net.

Knowing that something had just happened, the audience fell deathly silent.

In an instant, the spectator stands erupted.

"So fast!"

"Did the setter even touch the ball?!"

It was the quick that they had used by accident in yesterday's match against Aoba Johsai.

Hinata and Kageyama, deadly first year combo, flaunting their new weapon that tore the atmosphere that had been focused entirely on Shiratorizawa to shreds.

The long-reigning champions looked down at their challengers with surprised expressions.

We'll show you how we can change the stadium's atmosphere in an instant, Sawamura thought with a wry smile.

".....They're pretty reliable, our rookies."

Before long, the whistle blew. Karasuno High School versus Shiratorizawa Academy. A ticket to nationals was on the line, and now, the final battle was about to start---.

#haikyuu!!#haikyuu #karasuno #light novel #lightnovel #fan translation

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bellatrixobsessed1 · 5 years ago

Text

Mutilated Mannequin (Part 17)

“I leave you alone with them and this is what you do to them!” Ursa’s voice is shriller than usual. “You couldn’t just leave them be? I almost didn’t recognize him without that scar. Making him get rid of that wasn’t enough for you?” Her voice carries loudly from two floors below.

“I was thinking of his future. I couldn’t send him off to high school with that kind of scarring.” Ozai insists. “They’d rip his self-esteem to shreds. He’s already a softie…”

“Zuko wasn’t enough for you.” Ursa repeats. “You had to do this to our beautiful girl too. She didn’t even have any scars.”

“She had a baby face.”

“She’s fifteen!” Azula doesn’t need to see her mother to know that the woman was throwing her hands up. “Of course she has a child’s face, she is a child.”

“You had a womanly face when we started dating.” Ozai argues.

“We’re not the same person! She’s a late bloomer, you can’t rush these things.”

At this Azula’s face flushes. Zuko slumps down against the wall next to her. “Just like old times, right?” He comments.

“They used to argue about jobs.” Azula shrugs. “Not about us.” She pauses, it is still a bit of a hassle to enunciate things clearly. She can’t wait for some feeling to return to the right side of her face. “Not about how to raise us, anyways.” Custody matters had been a common topic back then. Ultimately they were left with their father as his income is more stable. Ursa had taken a leap of faith in leaving them behind for her career. She said it was her best chance. Ozai refused to make the move with her because his career is where they are now.

She supposes that she still holds a little resentment at how Ursa had chosen her career over them. But she can’t say that her ambition wouldn’t carry her to make the same choice. It doesn’t matter anyhow, she doesn’t have the energy to cling to rivalries. Not when she could use her mother’s special brand of care.

“I guess so.” Zuko replies.

“I have a sturdy job now.” Ursa declares. “More than sturdy, I have nearly as much wealth as you do. If you think that I can’t get custody of my children after this, you’re mistaken.”

“You will not take my children. I raised them, I did the hard work.”

“You raised them and you broke them.”

“They’re fine. I taught them to be resilient.”

Azula finds herself lucky that he did. Part of her is inclined to say that she would have given up at the diagnosis if he hadn’t at least taught her to push through things. Not that she is anywhere near ready to embrace her situation. She has hardly accepted it yet.

The surgery is through with, to her surprise, and with a splinted arm, they had cleared her the very same day that they’d done the procedure. The splint is terribly uncomfortable and she has been fated to wear it for at least three weeks.

She tenderly cradles the splinted arm and listens for the conclusion of the argument below.

“They are staying with me, Ursa.”

“We shall see.”

Zuko seems to smile at this. “We might get to live with mom.”

Azula isn’t so sure that she shares his delight. She is wholly torn. “Maybe.” she mumbles in way of a response.

.oOo.

It seems like it has been ages since she has been in the halls of Agni High. “You can go to class, Zuzu. I can take care of myself.” She rolls her eyes and shoves a few textbooks into her shoulder bag. She picks it up off the floor with her good arm and hoists it on lets it rest on her uninjured shoulder.

“Are you sure that you don’t want help with those?”

“I can handle a few textbooks.” She closes her locker and gives him a shooing gesture.

“I just want to help.”

“And I don’t want people to treat me like I’m helpless just because my arm is in a sling.”

Zuko seems to hesitate. “Just don’t hurt yourself worse.

She rolls her eyes, and yet, she deep down she has to admit to herself that she appreciates the sentiment. She thinks that this might be the closest they have been since they were children. She can’t exactly place when they had grown apart, but she is sure that father had created the rift with his ridiculous expectations. She watches her brother make his way down the hall before slipping into her own classroom.

TyLee greets her with a warm smile. She slips into her desk and arranges her supplies upon it.

“Need a copy of the notes?”

Azula shakes her head. “Zuko’s been getting them for me.” She pulls out the worksheet she had finished the night before. She hands it to Kyoshi who replaces that one with a new assignment and a welcome back.

It is so ordinary.

The day is so mundane it is almost as though nothing has changed at all.

Almost.

TyLee and Mai walk with her as she makes her way to the gym. People murmur to themselves. She might be able to pretend like she isn’t the subject of the murmurs were they not looking at her just a little too long.

Pitying stares that make her both furious and uncomfortable, perhaps furiously uncomfortable.

“Do you want to stop by my house after school?” Azula offers, a small attempt to invest herself in a conversation that didn’t leave her feeling awkward. She almost wants to ask if the state of her face is as bad as their expressions suggest.

“I can stop by if you don’t mind Tom-Tom tagging along.”

“Does five o clock sound good? I’ll have some time after gymnastics.”

“Five sounds perfect and I’m sure mother would love to meet Tom-Tom.” Azula replies.

“You think that she’ll take him off my hands for a bit?”

“Probably.” Azula says. They reach the gymnasium door. “I’ll see you at lunch.” She enters the gym and scopes Kyoshi out. She refuses to sit on the sidelines again. “What are we doing today?”

“You’re sitting out and working on your lit assignment.” Kyoshi shrugs. “The rest of us will be playing soccer after a few warm up laps

"I can still use my legs, Kyoshi. And one arm.” Azula insists. “I can play soccer.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Kyoshi agrees to let her speed walk the track so long as she promises to either walk or stop entirely if she doesn’t feel well. She supposes that she shouldn’t push her luck and makes her way to the track.

She hears someone sprinting up behind her. Before she can turn around, Yue is standing in front of her, leaning in way too close for comfort. “I heard that your face is all messed up.”

“Keep talking and yours won’t be any better.” She replies dryly.

Yue takes a step back. “It isn’t as bad as Jet made it sound.”

“Jet hasn’t even seen my face yet.”

Yue taps her chin. “It’s still pretty awful.” She shrugs. At Azula’s scowl she adds a hasty, “no offense.”

Her frown only deepens as she stalks away from the other girl. It isn’t like she hadn’t been expecting Yue to make things more difficult. No, she had very much anticipated the girl making her feel worse about herself then she did already.

She hears footsteps again. “Go, away.”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No. I thought that you were Yue.”

“She’s over there.” Katara pointed. “Pouting about something.”

Azula rolls her eyes.

“How are you doing?”

“Better, I suppose. I guess that I’m just going to have to get used to everyone looking at me like that.” She takes a deep breath. As things stand, she doesn’t feel as though such a feat is possible. They make her feel like some sort of creature. She casts her eyes to the floor.

“They’ll get used to it and stop staring.”

“There are more people than the ones in this school…” She doesn’t like thinking of being in a crowd, walking amid people who haven’t and won’t ever get the chance to get used to it… “this is going to be peoples’ first impression of me.”

“And you’ll know who’s worth talking to right away.” Katara replies. “If they’re rude then they aren’t worth talking to anyways.”

“I don’t even have a thrilling story to tell. At least Zuzu got to tell everyone that he got his scar saving the neighbor’s kid from a kitchen fire.” Azula slows her speedwalk to a halt. “I get to tell everyone that my plastic surgeon fucked up.”

“You don’t have to tell the truth.”

“Yes, Toph said the same. She suggested that I tell everyone that I was fighting an evil government agent who threw acid in my face. She also mentioned something about being attacked by a mutant.”

“You should hear her ‘how I went blind’ story.” Katara laughed.

“I’m sure that that’s entertaining.” Azula glances around the track. “Where’s the nimrod.”

“He got sent home for a dress code violation. I told him that he needed to stop sagging his pants. They already gave him several warnings.”

“They let him be the class president…” Azula grumbles. Regardless, she decides that it is doing her well to have more mundane conversations again.

.oOo.

Azula stares at her applesauce with annoyance. She still can’t eat solids and she is growing sick of oatmeal, apple sauce, and yogurt. She isn’t even sure that a healthy person can live on such a diet. She casts a longing look at Toph’s egg rolls and dumplings and an even more longing look at TyLee’s arrangement of cupcakes. Those are soft and fluffy, perhaps her doctor will approve of adding them to her meal plan.

Katara sits across from her and offers her a carton of orange juice. “I don’t really like oranges.”

“Neither do I.”

“Okay, one of you is going to have to move!” Yue stands before Mai and TyLee. “I am not sitting next to the clownfish.”

“Clownfish?” Mai questions.

“She’s been calling me that since...nevermind.”

“Since Katty accidentally swam diagonally while doing the backstroke and made our team look like a big joke.” Yue shrugged.

“And I call her, the eel because she’s a snake.”

Yue folds her arms and wedges herself between Azula and TyLee with a ‘hmph.’ “I don’t like our new table mates.”

“You’ll get over it.” Toph shrugs.

“This table is too crowded.” Yue eyes Suki.

“Well it’s about to get more crowded.” Chan declares.

“Move over a little Katara, make some space for Chan’s ego.” Azula remarks.

“Happy Monday to you too, Azula.” Chan greets.

It is nice to get back to the playful jesting. Though she still believes that they are due for a talk. The sooner the better, but she doesn’t want an audience. For the time being they will have to deal with the remaining threads of tension. That subtle spark of awkwardness that settles when he sits down.

Jet follows in suit.

“Good morning, Jet.” TyLee greets.

“It’s the afternoon.” He fixes his gaze on Azula. Judgement rolls off of him in waves.

“You look a lot worse than I thought you would.” He picks up a french fry and, before popping it into his mouth, says, “you weren’t pleasant to look at before. But this is awful.”

“She was kinda pretty before.” Yue interjects.

“She was really pretty, Yue.” Chan adds. Was, was, was. It only makes her feel that much worse for having lost whatever beauty she might have once had.

“Well she sure as hell isn’t now.” Jet replies. “And if she was such a looker before, why didn’t you take her to homecoming?”

Another relentless blow to her ego.

She braces herself for the next, it didn’t come in the way she had prepared for.

“Because she was changing things about her that I liked the way they were and it was frustrating to watch.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me that before I got the first surgery?” She asks. “You know that I first thought of getting them because of you, right?”

This time it is Chan who looked as though he’d taken a physical hit. “Wh-when.”

“Can we talk about this later?” She sends a cutting state towards Jet. “Alone.”

Chan nods but she can tell by the way he pushes absently at his mashed potatoes that the rest of lunch will be heavy.

“You know what?” Azula asks prompting the whole of her posse to look up. “I think that I have a solution to our overcrowded table.”

Chan cringes.

Without a word, she picks up Jet’s lunch tray and moves it to the corner table. She gestures to it. “Go on, Jet.”

Yue holds a hand up to her mouth, “ooo, Jet, you’re in trouble.” She snickers, “even I haven’t gotten evicted from the table!”

Jet scowled. “That’s fine with me, I didn’t want to look at that anyways.” He motions to Azula. “It’s disgusting.”

Azula lets out a breath, a tickling sensation flutters up in her tummy.

“He doesn’t know what he’s talking about, Azula.” Katara mutters. But she thinks that he does. She can’t say that she disagrees with him, she has gone out of her way to cover and avoid mirrors.

She feels TyLee wrap her arms around her and snuggle her cheek against Azula’s.

Azula signed and gives him one final glance. She sees him making his way to Smellerbee’s table. He may be tables away but the damage has been done. Chan has his head propped up by his arm and dismally stares at his still untouched meal. And Azula herself feels numb.

#Avatar #Azula #Katara #Zuko #TyLee #Mai #Toph #Suki #Jet #Yue #Fanfiction

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