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soranihimawari · 3 years

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You’re Love is Laced Evergreen

A rare find of mine from last year; time to post a Suna centric story I guess…?

Fluff: rival(?)friends -> lovers

Word count: 8.4k

High school is as hectic as it is, so when Jiro, YN moves from the city and signs up as a “libero for hire” for the Inarizaki Girls team her second year, she comes face to face with a few challenges.

Part 1 of the MissAdventures of Jiro, YN series:

part 2 tbd: spring inter high, the results and beyond

There is something to be said about being lumped by association with your ex-volleyball team : on the one hand, you were the shareholder and ‘handler’ of the brain cell. On the other, you were the envy of all the ‘pigs in the playpen.’ That last part was the one which didn’t sit right with you. You knew moving to the countryside would be a bit strange, yet it certainly did have it’s charms. You were no older than sixteen, a year older than your second-year compatriots, but that’s just because your birth was on the later half of the school year when the board decided to hold back until a certain date for enrollment. People speculated you either failed a grade or you moved around because of your parent’s line of work. Being a mechanic in a world built for smart cars is not an easy job to find nor is it easy to maintain especially when your parent finds you with a blowtorch making art deemed to fuel the nightmares of little kids everywhere. Then again, you did make some gorgeous dolls out of barbed wire, fishing line, and paperclips, but this is a story for a different time.

Currently, you sit in college-prep calculus, discussing the limits and how trigonometry can and will be used to (or applied) to solve for the solution. Your teachers along with the vice principal opt to do a study on you just to assist in placing you in the proper classes for the upcoming year, especially since the curriculum you were used to from the metro area had already covered certain topics in year one. You sat with a few members of the second year staff as they handed you worksheets they used for their classes overall; considering you had a high mark in a good portion of them (except foreign language), the advanced placement courses along with college prep were more than happy to take you in. Regardless, the thing you needed to remember was high school was a time to reinvent yourself. And by the grace of the gods, you did. This is the story of how the change came to be and the aftermath of what occurred. We start on Club Recruitment Day right before fall break in your second year. You were used to seeing the crowds of people in the student body at the beginning of the year asking for new students to sign up for their extra curricular activities, just not have another one in the middle of the school year. You were a bit surprised that a powerhouse school like Inarizaki had enough time set aside to do so is all. Then, as the sports clubs tables you pass by, the movement to add a second clubs day was probably started by one of these teams because their third years regardless of stepping down or not, would need to eventually be replaced by their kouhai, and their kouhai’s kouhai. You typically kept to yourself, liking to observe the natures of the crowds, and in your head, you narrate your journey like you’re a nature documentarian. The journalism club conducts fake interviews for the passerby, the glee club sings the alma mater, and the gaming club sits playing their games. You pass the tables and benches for badminton, track and field, until you pause at the girl’s roster for the volleyball club. There were a little over half of the sheet missing and you see they were a bit younger than their male counterparts. The two co-captains were busy settling a dispute over a homework question, far too annoyed one was marked correct and the other claims the ace on the girls team was simply wrong. No one notices you put your name underneath one of the open lines at the bottom, putting in parentheses “libero for hire.” You were a little shorter than the giants of the boys teams, but compared to the girls, you for lack of reference with your measurements are anywhere between Kita’s height (you learned his name because you were on notebook duty for your homeroom teacher and he was called into the lounge to schedule a makeup exam due to an away game) when the boy remembers to stand up straight and right below the shoulder of the Miya Twins.

You always wanted to play again, but taken into consideration you were coached side by side with the boys of the neighborhood, neither management (or captains) were ready to see you set a ball a lot faster than they thought necessary since in the last rally your side of the “chance ball” was touched first by the active setter in the first place. The event described happened two hours after lunch when all sports teams were asked to queue up to their respective domains. You excused yourself from the history lesson saying the announcement was for all team sports clubs: “Volleyball,” you raised your hand to ask to gather your stuff and head to the mixed meeting point for your athletic club. It’s in this gym, though, you’d have to share with the boys. The girls team asked to negotiate the terms with the boys’ in order to see who uses the refurbished gym and who would use gym four since the others were long torn down in favor of more classrooms at the time.

“Oi! You there,” the blonde undercut one points to you.

You point to yourself with a confused stare. Maybe messing around would be fun, you figure. Perhaps pretend you don’t know the rules or how to do a jump serve…?

“Yeah, I’m pointin’ at ya,” he continues. His brother with the same face snickers thinking you might be a little slow in social cues or you weren’t all the way awake yet. However, the two must have had twin telepathy because they might have thought you were a manager applicant, not a player applicant.

“It’s rude to point,” you mutter, picking up the ball nearly three feet to his left. A spare which went out of bounds. A wicked thought entered your mind, but alas, the captains of both teams decided to hold a free practice and reserve the proper match to redetermine which team gets to use which gyms at the end of the first official practice. With the announcement made, thanks to the coaches breaking the news, you stood next to the girl’s team, making connections and talking about life in the city. Volleyball was a sport you thought wanted to try since your dad thought you could use more friends, not that you weren’t fond of anyone:

“I’m a sort of prickly person,” you make an interesting hand sign with your wrists. The girls around you laugh, but they here the pops of your wrists as you continue to stretch them out.

“Alright,” the captain of the girl’s team, you find her name to be Kya, says.

“Let’s start with some spike drills and see if,” she squinted looking at the sign up sheet. “Jiro-chan can receive them?”

You stand up with an arm raised. You braid your bangs back tying the rest into a ponytail. The boys from earlier were about to realize their mistake. Kita calls their curious attention away for a moment. Depending on how this goes, the blonde owes you an apology, while his brother may have liked to see you win the libero spot fair and square.

The first few attempts were successful digs and dive receives flew over the net just fine. That was until you made a run and jump in the air to deter a stray ball which was still too high at the time back down to the opposite side. Your landing was sort of graceful and using your hand to balance yourself, like those superhero movies you went to see (with a cousin or two), you laughed. At that point in time, two brothers are joined by a friend who had his phone out to record your smile: then again, perhaps if your ears were a bit sharper, you would have heard the three of them whisper yell that you were amazing (in varying degrees of course).

You tilt your head to the side, wondering if the captain has any questions.

“Libero for hire huh?” she chuckles.

“Well senpai,” you shrug. “Thought you could use a laugh?”

She pats your shoulder reminding you to not sell yourself short.

“You’re in year two, hun?”

“Mm, college prep, if it helps.”

“Beauty and brauns?”

“Hah, I guess?”

You two laugh a little more. The other teammates around you go back to the drills thus giving the starting libero a few in as well. An hour later, with the boys’ being as obnoxiously loud because of their dynamic, the coaches and captains drew practice to a close. A few of the third years, including the ace, were talking to the potential lineups for the practice matches in the next couple of days. You though, were a bit of a wild card since you opened up more about why you chose the club, where you were hiding, ie. why’d you transfer, etc. you didn’t necessarily get chosen on the three on three matches because of the uneven number of players until Kita speaks up.

“You’re missing one or two members to make your last three…”

He glances over his shoulder while watching Aran break up another petty fight and Suna trying to record this for blackmail; giving your captain a ‘please my kids are a bit dumb, but they’re nice & I need a break,’ stare, she nods.

“Atsumu,” the squabble ends when Kita calls for his setter.

“Shit.”

“Rintaro,” your captain also calls and now you’re seeing why your two senpais were chosen as captains. They brought about attention and nuanced balance to the teams. There is a strict diligence on Kira’s part and on your side, you believe that ‘captain Senpai’ as you saved her on your phone for now, is in the camp of muscle memory with playing your heart out.

“This is Jiro,” your captain pays your shoulder when the two boys almost eclipsed your height.

“Jiro, this our setter, Miya Atsumu, this year and middle blocker,” Kita-san says. “Suna Rintaro. They’re your teammates for the three on three.”

The blonde is more vocal about whining why him and not “stupid ‘Samu,” while the one with hazel eyes glances down skeptically.

“S-Senpai, I don’t think—” you were interrupted.

“You will treat her like any other teammate, got that? She’s going to be our new libero when we graduate,” a third voice is heard behind you. You feel a warm hand on your shoulder and see a flash of auburn hair. You’re team’s sitting libero has a wicked grin on her face.

“Jiro’s just as good as you two, give her a chance. Besides, I think Kita might bench you both if you over work yourself again…” she squeezes your shoulder saying something or other about showing you where the lockers are for club teams later.

Your captain chuckles saying, “Asami’s always been like that. Friendly sisterly aura and all.”

She leaves, followed by Kita, talking about heading to the café to work on some homework when they’re changed. Now you’re having to face a monster and a human equivalent of an apathetic cat.

“Tsk, this is so dumb,” Atsumu pouts. “Why did we have to be your teammates? It’s not like we have an incomplete roster again this season.”

Suna glances between him and you. Your expression is a rather dark one, so you snatch the closet object near you, and from where you stand, you do a jump serve, making the ball contact the rude boy’s shoulder. Thus making him stumble back. He might as well thought he was fighting Osamu because good god the way Suna started laughing made him more agitated than usual. That and Miya Atsumu might have found you sort of hot after the genuine display of your skills. The serve was a bonus.

“She’s a fun one,” Suna says when his friend rubis his shoulder.

“That’s why asshole,” you shake your head, turning to walk back to where you kept your belongings. This caused the last few first years scoff and chuckle. Perhaps wise Kita was right in letting you team up with Suna and Miya Atsumu because you could politeky(?) put them in their place. You put the cockiness in check rather quickly and they thought you were a god. Ok, well not god, let’s not get ahead of ourselves.

“I may be a libero, but you should really look into my record for most consecutive knockouts too.”

You do a little jab or two mentioning volleyball wasn’t the only sport you excelled at. You leave with your bag slung over your shoulder, mentioning it was nice to meet Suna, who returned the salutation, and not a word of good-bye to Atsumu. Just a roll of your eye and contemptuous tight lipped forced expression.

“Suna, I think I’m in love,” he says.

“You should probably ice that,” the middle blocker says. “And I don’t think she likes you…”

“Suna, ah took a jump serve to the shoulder here and if that in mah Miya ‘physical touch is my religion’ mind doesn’t means ‘vying for mah attention’ then she’s either smitten or oh my god, she likes Samu?!”

“You’re alone on that front, Atsumu. Later,” Suna picks up his gear and leaves too.

One shower and clothed twenty minutes later, you hear someone rummaging the medical staff’s bags. The big mouth setter from earlier is half dressed, glistening from his own cool down shower. The welt subsiding from the volleyball you hit him with, just the seams remain.

“Damn! Where did they go? Coach said they were here last time… ow!” An ice pack slid from the top of the freezer where he was currently looking and it dinked him on the crown of his silly two toned head.

You shake your head trying to not make a sound, but since this was your fault one-hundred percent, you knock on the door frame as a courtesy.

“Wanted to see me struggle a bit more for yer cold heart?”

He sits down, hissing in relief when the packet contacts his skin.

“Keep talking like that and I might just leave ya on ya own to tape yourself up,” you stick your tongue out in a vengeful manner. You grab some kinesthetic tape and tape the small blue pouch on him. The closeness is a neutral zone until you stand back up saying you’re not apologizing for what you did since his comment warranted it.

“Oh, and for the record,” you pause on your way out the door. “I like my boys quiet, about this tall, with green hazel eyes.”

If your description was the truth then Miya Atsumu was right about one thing: you certainly got his attention. Just not in the way he was expecting.

“Why are you telling me all this?” He is as baffled as you are red in the face at the moment, then you warrant a sweet, but sinister laugh.

“Because no one would believe you,” you say as you toss your bag over your shoulder again, leaving the setter stunned.

W-was I just out-smarted by ‘er? Was all Miya Atsumu could think of the next coming days.

On the other side of the schoolyard though, several days later, you are seen leaving the science wing with your chemistry notes from a makeup quiz in hand. You’re not noticing who is behind you nor do you care. That is until you find yourself being pushed into the janitor’s closet nearest the emergency stairs. The light is turned off, but it dangles dangerously atop your flyaways. Whomever has their hand on your shoulder is breathing really ragged, but not like they just ran a marathon, no. It’s more of a nervous inhale and exhale, causing you to keep your eyes slightly shut, trying to listen for more clues, yet alas, even you need to open your eyes so they can adjust properly.

“It’s jus’ me,” the disembodied voice is familiar with you. Too familiar you think, considering the tonality is a dead giveaway. You know this person in passing, hell you even played volleyball with him a few days ago when you led your team to the tie breaking match; well you along with the other two partners you had were really all around players. Did it help you actively read their next moves without saying anything much? Sure. One-hundred percent, but alas, you were knocked out, placing third. However you were glad the team you lost against consisted of the co-captains and one apprehensive first year who was the best at what they did.

“Suna?” You whisper gasp at him, smacking his arm. He grunts, confirming it’s him and not some prank the twins put him up to.

“What do you want?” You ask after he explains he was hiding from a few of his own fans.

“I need you to go out on a date with me…”

“Bull shit.”

“Ugh, please?”

“Suna.”

He rolls his eyes and scoffs, cursing under his breath.

“Jiro.”

“Why d’ya need me to go out with you? I thought ya didn’ care about that sort of stuff…”

You are not to be confessed to in a closet, it would be the first and only time you’d be confessed to in one. Not the most romantic, but considering how busy you both were with your teams preparing for the first match of the season, it makes sense to strike while there is still some “free” time.

“Despite what you think, it matters to me if it concerns you,” Suna’s disposition suddenly changes the moment he realizes he says that part aloud.

Your hand that still rested on his arm is pulled gently down to your side; you figure it was his own as a sign of good faith.

“Ok, now I know Miya can’t keep a secret,” you grumble, twisting the doorknob. The light is bright enough to warrant a hiss from both of you. You turn around to see Suna’s silhouette be marked by a shy blush; he scratches the side of his cheek, a pout on his lips. You shrug turning at least three-quarters of the way then, holding your notes in your spare hand, you release the doorknob with the other, extending it out to him.

“But if your offer still stands, meet me at Brewster’s on third and Orange Blossom,” you timidly say. Suna scoffs, rolls his shoulders, causing his bangs to not be parted in their signature middle part. He may not have held your hand then, but rather, he opted for slinging an arm around your shoulders while walking you back to your homeroom, taking a shortcut. There are whispers amongst the student body though, and it wasn’t long before a surprised, “aww,” was sung in the halls. You reached your classroom with bright cheeks, however you noticed something you didn’t before and it was a wonder on how you missed it: Suna Rintaro has light freckles across the bridge of his nose and two spare ones under both of his eyes. Adorable, you muse in your mind. You’re the only one who’s seen them before because they fade away (or are less prominent) when his cheeks go back to their original color.

“Jiro-chan,” his voice is low when he speaks your name in an arduous tone. There’s a ghost of an impish grin on his lips, the same pair which leave an imprint on your brow before he turns on his heels, whistling a tune while your soul ascends to the stratosphere.

One month goes by and the season is going strong. How strong? Your team advances as many times as the boys wins correlate with the overall performance of the girls’ team. The matches are usually timed and scheduled hours apart on the same day, so thankfully there is enough time for either side to watch and cheer the others on. The boys’ secured their ticket to nationals as the representative for the Hyogo region beating the second place school; the guys line up as per the formalities while your team is on the fifth set. Word reaches the boys gym in court A that the team you face are decently stacked, and you were making it rather difficult for the other team to break through. Your teammates were struggling to take the set back since the rallies had been dragging since the last time out was used overall.

“Leave your heart on the court,” your mother tells you. You were just a kid no older than four, playing bump and pass with her. Her hair was cropped short, explaining how she played with her sisters and one older brother before they went their separate ways. However the fun times weren’t going to last as long as either of you had wanted. Your father whom you now lived with still mourned the death of a wife who was taken away from an illness much to soon before your sixth birthday. You had enough memories to last a lifetime, however your father recovers a little at a time, but even a sport or any extracurricular activities weren’t going to replace the lessons the woman taught you.

Here you were, reminding the team to do the same. You were in the middle, a few minutes later, your captain stood vanguard and the ace was rotated into the opposite hitter position, the other girls in front were excellent read blockers. The crowd’s cheers blends into the ambiance and double overtime never looked so delicious, but your captain snaps you into focus when you see the ball slow down in your mind’s eye and you slide to the right to receive the first touch of the rally.

The boys team with their plaque held by the coach and their medals either around their neck or their pockets are watching their female counterparts perform their personal best. Sure, both teams are the first ones to out your relationship with the aloof middle blocker, but after a few minutes of answering their questions, you realize this was just all part of life. Currently, said boy was witnessing what made you and the rest of your team great.

“And just like that, with Jiro covering for Suzu, she sets the ball for the ace and their vanguard!”

Thwack! The play is seamless, and it’s a gorgeous cross shot.

“Hot damn,” Miya Atsumu says. His amber eyes light up because he knows that’s the same play he’s seen you do. Things between you and him sort of died down when you started being a bit more sarcastic and witty around him.

“You just need to sort of out-fox him,” your senpais advise you one afternoon during lunch break. “Miya Atsumu is a cocky individual, but if he likes ya he won’t call ya a pig like he does to those girls.”

“Is he that heartless?” You wonder when you pick up a sausage weenie from your bento.

“Nah, it’s just he has his fans and apparently they are proudly insulted,” your captain said with a thoughtful look.

You laugh mentioning the girls in the Miya fan base were watching too many harem animes and were sadists from the start.

“Well, if anyone is a masochist, it’s him. His brother on the other hand,” the ace says with a dreamy sigh. “Is an angel in the kitchen and his greatest strength on the court.”

“Osamu? Really?” You ask in disbelief. “Who would have thunk it?”

“Why are we talking about the Miya boys when you’re dating the most elusive member of the team?” Your captain teases you, with a grin.

“Suna isn’t elusive,” you defend, a small smile tugging on your lopsided lips since you ate a bit of your lemon tart. “He’s a bit reserved, sure, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t pay attention…”

Watching each other play is one of the team’s favorite past-times, like right now. The announcers are talking as fast as they can, and it’s a real nail biter when now the score was deuce. You are rotated out of libero and your coach nods to you. It’s rare for a libero to serve, but you also double as a middle blocker who is ambidextrous and it takes one serve to advance. You don’t call for a time out, no, but when the huddle is about to break, you place your left fist in the middle. Your strongest five knuckle bump your left hand because for the life of them they’ve only seen you serve with your right. While you were strengthening your dominant side, your left was gaining it’s muscle memory back: you were taught over the years of toiling and improving with the sport that perhaps your strongest side isn’t necessarily the right, like you were taught. It was your left and you were about to out maneuver a team who’s been to nationals multiple times…

“A fairly newcomer to Inarizaki High is the incomparable Jiro who is now rotated into the serving position. If she makes a service ace, then Inarizaki will be at match point.”

You close your eyes to silence the world around you to become hyper focused on finding a place to aim for. The timer goes off along with the referee whistle. You take the ball in your hands, and roll your shoulders back, a few cracks are heard as you smile. Suna is the only one that has seen it before and he knows whatever you’re about to pull off is either really stupid or really outrageous.

You toss the ball high in the air in your right, the crowd is a blur behind you and for a split second in the air, your eyes and left hand connect with the ball.

“A float serve?!” Your team notices something though when the opposite team scrambles to return it, but alas the ball rolls away from the middle space between their middle wall blockers’ feet. You land back on the court with a triumphant grin. Your team praises you and some even go as far to say that their senpai/kouhai had been holding back. You promise them you wouldn’t hold back anymore if it means the difference between going to nationals or not. They laugh, shaking their heads. Here is the thing about heroes of certain games: it is an honor to be considered one, yet it’s an even warmer welcome when it’s from someone the opposite team least expects. You are back to your original position on the side of the line waiting for your cue to serve again.

“Suna,” Aran is a row behind the second years. “I-is Jiro left-handed?”

Suna snaps out of his rivière with the rest of the cheer squad when he confirms you aren’t.

“She is just as scary as either of ‘em,” Gintama jokes.

The announcers choose to focus on the speed of your serves this time giving out a fun fact about your average points per serve: “Jiro is a fairly new comer to this side of the region. Once considered one of the top seven liberos over all in the prefecture, she is also one of the more deadly servers in the game this season with an average speed of 88km/hr per serve. She is a wild card and an all round strategist. Some say if you blink, you’d miss the blur of the ball, but will hear it bounce.”

Crack!

The ball smashes against the back line, narrowly missing the opposite team’s vanguard and your hand is still a bit stinging with the burn of the ball in your palm. You are confident in knowing your point made it count and the uproar is intense. You fall to your knees when your team jumps and tackles you to the ground. For the third years this was their last chance to make to nationals and thanks to your help along with the rest of their team, you were a part of making it happen.

“Ack! Guys, guys! You’re smothering me!” You laugh in between the raining of praises. The girls you’re closest to on and off the court pull you up from the court, helping your tired muscles walk stiffly to the center for line-up.

“They say we’re the monsters,” Miya Atsumu says, biting back a laugh when the rest of the team come down to find Suna making a beeline straight to you. The girls on your team greet the guys and congratulate them as well when a few show them their achievements, but all that ceases when they glance at the way Suna has chosen to congratulate you.

“I owe you two rounds of KBBQ,” he says warmly, kissing your cheek. “You did good.”

“Thanks,” the act alone is enough to make you turn a bit more flustered. His nose tickles your cheek, before he lets his lips linger again against your temple.

“You should change,” he says noticing your captain and co-captain were almost done with a few short statements given to the student presses with media passes along with a few photographers. You talk with a few first years who still sing your praises wishing they’d be strong enough soon to join you guys on the court soon.

“No worries ladies,” your voice is jovial and nurturing. “We’ll improve together, yeah? For now, we should head to the showers and celebrate with the guys.”

Fourth minutes later, you are changed back into your street clothes. The little make up you brought with you (eyeliner, soft powder, and a cherry lipstain) were worn with a simple outfit. You always wore leggings and your team jackets on game days, but since the weather was seemingly cooler tonight than most, you brought a turtleneck dry-fit undershirt with you. There was an embroidered hand-fan pattern on the collar.

The chaperones were taking roll by the time the busses were scheduled to come pick up the teams. Since the games both teams set out to play today were won, the coaches opted as a reward before they gave their post game talks to make the ride back a co-ed one. Suna didn’t care which one he rode in as long you were next to him. Once everyone is present and accounted for, you sit next to Suna, stifling a yawn.

“Hi there,” you have an exhausted smile on your youthful face. Suna raises his hand halfway too.

“Yo.”

You plop down next to him, leaning against him. “I’m just glad that hurdle is past.”

Your eyes start to droop a bit when the bus pulls away from the stadium first.

“Mm, me too,” he says, watching you fall asleep is one thing Suna does not take for granted. His right hand steadies your head as the asphalt becomes uneven in certain parts of the road while his left is carefully wrapped around your waist. Suna has a younger sister, he explained to you back during your first date at the cafe, so when you had your first game on the weekend after his, he asked if he could catch a ride with the team back to campus (the other members of the team were still taking a few make up quizzes). And thus a tradition that is solely unique for you both is started. Roles reverse unless both of you have games lined up for the same day. Suna makes a silent sign when a first year girl and a manger from the boys’ team sit in front, taking out their phone to snap an adorable photo. Eventually, Suna too falls asleep not too long after, enjoying the peacefulness of your company. His cheek is smooshed against the top of your head and by the time you’re both woken up, you’re told the post game talk for your team is pushed back for morning practice: “enjoy the night off. We’re sure your family and friends will want to celebrate with you too.”

“Hai~!” There is a small chorus of your lot. The boys team however, are set to recite the game and look for improvements. You and Suna didn’t really have a chance to say bye, but the rest of the guys waved your team off saying something about a karaoke night on the next off day. It doesn’t come before the arts and cultural festival, but that’s another adventure waiting to happen.

Though some girls groan a bit about morning practice especially after a game day, you cover another yawn, stretching your arms above your head, choosing to text Suna you were going home for the day. ‘Ramen can wait, but for now, sleep is a priority,’ you hit send before you leave school grounds with a few members of the team. Sure the warmth of the autumn night slowly slips away and the first chill in the air is refreshing when you arrive home. You place your stuff down by the foyer next to the coat closet and saunter off to your room.

“Tonkatsu ramen sounded really good too,” you grumble into a pillow as you nose dive into your bed. You’re nap certainly wasn’t enough for now you fall back to sleep, your exhaustion catching up to you.

Meanwhile, on campus, the boys are cleaning up the gym after the last chat with coach and the managers. There were a few stray balls here and there after a friendly match was started by the Miya twins. Suna and Gintama were roped into this while Kita and Aran remind them to end the game quickly so they can all go home.

“Some of us have dates y’know,” Gintama teases. Suna rolls his eyes, before shrugging in agreement.

“The only one who has one since the season began was SunaRin anyways,” Miya Osamu retorts. He sounded a bit jealous, but his best friend outside of his twin has been a bit more trying (in a good way). Suna doesn’t let their banter set up any doubts or false pretenses because he knows as reserved as he is, you’d read him like a book.

A few seconds later, though, Atsumu opens his mouth to say something utterly ridiculous like, “well if jiro didn’t say anything to me after she helped me ice my bruised shoulder that first day of practice, you wouldn’t have known she liked ya.”

“She what?” Osamu raises his voice, surprised you were sort of nice to his brother.

Come to think of it, you’re nice to everyone except for Atsumu. It’s more like you put up with an annoying brother or cousin, yet you two wait a few years before you see eye to eye again. (A bad fight with Suna and one drunk night in college on your part meant you needed time away from him, so you call the next best person in a fifteen mile radius in Osaka. The shortened taught strings between you and your boyfriend were starting to fray and you basically had to be reminded by Atsumu that evening love isn’t always easy. When you’re calmed enough, he lends you a pillow, a blanket and an old set of pajamas; he calls Suna who kept blowing up your phone more desperate ‘I’m sorry’s and ‘pick up, babe’ and ‘just tell me you’re safe’)

“Jiro apologized for hitting me square in the shoulder with one of those spikes,” Atsumu scratches his chin. “What’s with the look Suna?”

“You were being a dick,” Suna sighs. He shakes his head, folding the net with Gintama before walking away to put it in the storage room.

“‘Tsumu, tell me the truth,” Osamu rolls the ball cart toward his brother. “D’ya like Jiro? Or d’ya like her more now that ya can’t have her?”

For once, the setter is quiet. He doesn’t know how to proceed once he’s been caught having feelings for someone else’s girlfriend, let alone that person being someone in his own team. This is going to get messy.

“Answer him,” Suna is back and he’s livid. A more demure anger written on his face causes his fellow teammates to glance around the gym. It’s only the four of them and even Gintama isn’t sure who would win if a brawl were to break out, so he says something to cut the tension: “Suna, go home first. I’ll take care of the rest here. You two can fight later, ok?”

Suna scoffs, shaking his head muttering “unbelievable.” He heads to the locker room to pick up his school bag and his athletic bag. His phone buzzes with texts from the twins, one from Osamu saying he really didn’t think his brother developed a crush on Jiro; the others were from Atsumu who apologizes profusely because ‘she likes you so i had to swallow my pride, y’know.’ Suna, for all that is holy, wanders around the neighborhood but he doesn’t necessarily go home. You’re guardian let him inside the house, saying a brief congrats while mentioning you were in your room.

“She’s still sleeping off the grind,” they say with a laugh. “Congrats you two.”

Suna nods, going up the half flight of stairs of the duplex turning to the room with the door ajar. You mumble in your sleep, an annoying habit for some, an endearing one for him. He nudges you when he places his things down by your desk, his breath is warm against your cheek, he teasingly pokes it and watches your face twist in confusion.

“Mm? Suna?” your eyes open and your voice is still laced with sleep.

“Scoot over,” he whispers. You do as he says propping yourself up, making room for him. When Suna’s comfortable enough, he pulls you back to sleep on his chest. His hand runs through your hair when he hums a lullaby; his right drapes around your shoulder when your breathing begins to even out again.

“Sounds nice,” you say, kissing his jaw. Or at least what you could reach from this angle. One thing for sure is there are a lot of moments where you two give into sleep, but it’s the everything before and after are your guiltiest pleasures. Like twenty minutes later, when you wake up and it’s nearly nine in the evening and Suna is pressed against your back saying something or other about not moving too much.

“Run, babe, it’s nine at night,” you smirk when he buries his head between your shoulder blades, causing you bust out laughing. You tried to be quiet, you really did, but Suna kept provoking more tickling advances and you somehow managed to wriggle free. Suna and you are now propped up against a wall of pillows between as ammo in case this turns into a pillow fight. Stifling a giggle, you beckon your boyfriend come toward you, and he does. The mattress bounces when he moves closer to you and just holds you in a tight embrace.

“S-suna?” you knew he could be possessive, but this was different. “Hey, what’s wrong pretty fox?”

You cup his face, his eyes close a bit. You don’t ask him again, rather you briefly study his face in your palms, counting the sunspot freckles along his cheeks mentally, while stroking his skin with the pads of your thumb. Without warning or malice in your veins, you tilt his face slightly higher at an angle you don’t mind reaching. Your lips graze over his teasingly slow and Suna’s immediate reaction startles you when he holds your wrists steady.

“Mmf?” You don’t have time to react when you feel his insecurities melt away the nanosecond his lips are on yours. You’re too stunned to speak coherently when he breaks away from your lips. His eyes shine differently and you see your reflection in the silver parts of his hazel eyes, they change color around you: gorgeous marbles of the entirety of a forest’s foggy dawn.

“I think I’m in love with you,” Suna is petrified of himself when he notices you stiffened. You could handle a few things really well, like getting another eighty nine on the cheek quiz, and the feel of a play going right. This though, you weren’t prepared for and you come to your senses rather lagged out of time.

“Good,” was the first word you managed to push out of mouth and with you leaning toward him, Suna’s hands drop away from your wrists to pull you closer to him. Your hands too moves away from his face to loop around his shoulder, playing with the nape of his neck. He chuckles when you tug his hair a little more to the right. You’re still new to love as is he, but the longer you two stay like this, exchanging kisses and small confessions, the longer you realize you’re just as lucky as the next person.

First loves are rare to come by, according to your literature teachers. It’s even rarer to find someone who matches your tenacity in a more subdued way. You’re cradled against Suna’s chest now, drawing haphazardly shaped stars and his hands you with your hair. He wonders if he can ask his sister to show him how to plait her hair so he can braid yours.

“Did you mean it?” You demurely ask.

“Mmhm,” pressing a kiss on your forehead. “Every word.”

“Thought I was dreaming,” you smirk when he pinches your cheek.

“If I knew you could kiss like that I should have confessed ages ago.”

Suna has a wolfish grin causing you to laugh into his shirt, but when your laughter fades, he pushes you back for a moment. He likes this feeling, he loves it enough to commit everything to memory; he doesn’t want anything to sour something this precious whether it be himself or another person.

“Something wrong?” you ask worries lilt in your voice.

“‘Samu told me something earlier,” Suna sighs.

“…?”

Suna tells you the truth about the conversation after the free practice he participated in. You let out a low whistle.

“Woah,” your eyebrows went up, then softened. So that’s why you’re here as affectionate as you are, you think. Suna’s forehead bumps into your shoulder and he withdraws a little more the moment you begin to continue comforting him like a child who lost their toy in the park.

“But I can’t get you back if he—”

“Suna Rintaro,” you warn. “Did you forget who your girlfriend is?”

His eyes lock on to yours, a smile is hidden there, so you’ll draw it out if he doubts you.

“No, not really,” he scoffs, hugging you tighter.

“Then forget what Tsumu said, ok? Come on, time to head downstairs and see what’s for dinner…”

You stand first, leaning down though to pull him up to his feet.

“Oh yeah, one more thing,” you say. “J’adore mon chérie d’amour.”

French. You spoke French, your mother’s tongue, and it was used seldomly except in the house and outside in the Parisian bistro where your guardian worked. Suna just thought it was an elective for the foreign language credit, but boy is he glad he’s wrong. Judging by the way you turn around and walk out of your room, you must’ve said something along the lines of his confession and he is absolutely through the moon.

Suna grins, but his ears are just as red as the apple on the table. You explain on the way down the stairs your granny moved back home when your mother was already grown, so the bilingual news in your house was something you always grew up in. You just don’t advertise it as much since you rather save it for simpler times or when you feel you need to reinsure a certain someone of where you lie in the loyalty aspect. Sure enough, once you rinse and cut up some fruit (not the wax one in the coffee table), making him chuckle. He remembers the first time he came over and you had to throw away the extra fruit from the decoration bowl in front of the entertainment center. You just chose to mention it was an accident to your guardian when they came home the following day from working an overnight shift. Regardless, you two are now sitting side by side, the fruit on a plate in the middle where you two sat, though Suna had to leave relatively soon.

“Your phone keeps going off,” you say, serving him some water. It’s almost ten-fifteen at night and you gently remind him the trains are going to stop running soon to his side of the city even though school was already out for the weekend.

He nods, thinking a few things aloud when he chooses to ignore his friend’s missed calls amongst the notifications. That is, until his own mother calls him to ask him where he was. Suna isn’t afraid of answering nor is he afraid of telling her the truth, but according to him, “Mom’s always busy with my kid sister anyways, so a text is fine.”

“Just call her back, Rin. She must be worried,” you say, giving him a gentle smile. “Her son won a game with his team heading to nationals next month, so I’m sure she’d like to celebrate with you…”

“…It’s not that,” Suna replies. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. “I haven’t told her we were official yet.”

“We’ve been dating for a month??” You raise your eyebrows a bit miffed by this confession, but you stifle a laugh because you know how passive he could be. After all, you think to yourself, all the important people would know knew by now.

“Three weeks and two days, if you’re precise.”

You blink back at him startled he knew the exact time frame.

“Swear on your life that was creepy, admirable and adorable, but creepy SunaRin.”

He runs a hand through his hair, winking at you. “You made me want to keep count, ok? Excuse me while I tell my mother where I’m at.”

You pray it’s not a FaceTime call he uses, but alas you were denied your wish. The familiar chime wafts through the air and you hear the two of them go at it, a bit sarcastic to start, then Suna flips the phone to reveal you to his family.

“This is Jiro, yn mom…My girlfriend,” he says the last part a bit shyly and his mother looks just like her son. A bit of gray strands frame her face, but she parts her hair on the right side of the screen, so when you wave and say hello, she processes what her son just said a lot faster.

“She’s pretty Suna. Yn-dear you should come over for tea one weekend, yeah? Suna Rintaro, you shouldn’t have to hide such a pretty face from us…”

They continue to talk, a witty banter is exchanged before goodbyes are said and promises of you visiting are made. Along the way in the conversation, you come to the realization perhaps Suna did not want to go home. He wants to stay, especially if he is to face the aftermath of both of the Mya twins back on school grounds. You were about suggest he makes up with them, but considering one of them revealed his love for you, you digress.

“You brought clothes to sleep in hon?” You ask while running the water over the dishes used.

“Mm, I think so,” Suna replies. “I’ll head up first, yeah?”

You hear him stand, walking towards you in the kitchen, resting his chin atop your head while pulling you into a loose embrace from behind. You make a remark or two when he doesn’t listen right away, so you scold him with the best stare you could and he shivers his shoulders, whispering, “a yes ma’am,” before pinching your side.

Twenty minutes later, you dry your hands before coming up the stairs and heading back into your room. The door is left ajar and you find Suna with the guest set of towels around his shoulders while he wears a clean pair of one of his gym sweatpants and long sleeve shirts. His hair is still damp and it’s parted in a way you haven’t seen before and the domestic life wasn’t really either of your style, but the thoughts you two had were the same: we could get used to this.

“Dry my hair for me?”

You nod, motioning for him to sit on the edge of your bed while you climb back on the mattress to get ready to do so. He finds it soothing when you do this until finally, you feel him bop his head more forward, so you catch him and pull him back into the covers.

“Rin, baby,” you whisper quiet as to not wake him from his in between. He grunts, grumbling about getting too close to sleep. You laugh, leaving a kiss on his forehead from where you were, mentioning he was on top of the blanket proper. The fact you said that aloud and seemed to be pouting was the deciding factor for your boyfriend to turn over a new leaf: Suna is taller than you, so when you sit back on your bum, he pins you down by your shoulders, thus silencing you with a quirked brow.

“Ya got my attention already sweetness,” he growls against your hot skin. Your arms instinctively move to wrap around him to push him more into you, asking him between flirtatious kisses if this was part of his plan all along.

“As long as I don’t get to talk to stupid ‘Tsumu,” he tuts, pressing a last kiss to your lips. He rolls over, leaving enough space for you to kick the covers to the side before you pull them back and over you both. Suna brings you closest to him, his other arm falls to keep you steady via latching on to your hips. His nose tickles your cheek teasingly slow, his lips make quick work of bruising the space between your ear and part of your exposed nape. Your grip on his shirt tightens and loosens as needed when he does this, a short mewl of his full name escapes your lips and the ministrations continue until he feels you fall asleep again, he follows shortly thereafter satisfied with how this went.

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vilaspatelvlogs · 4 years

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UP Board Result 2020: CM Yogi Adityanath ने 10वीं और 12वीं के छात्रों को दी नतीजों के लिए शुभकामना

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UP Board Results 2020: इस बार भी अच्छा रहेगा यूपी बोर्ड 10वीं और 12वीं का रिजल्ट, यहां देखें पिछले 7 वर्षों का परिणाम

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seiin-translations · 4 years

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2.43 S1 Chapter 3.2 - The Dog’s View and the Giraffe’s View

2. TROUBLESOME ROOKIE

Translation Notes

1. Koutairen is short for the All Japan High School Athletic Federation (Zenkoku Koutou Gakkou Taiiku Renmei)

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It was last July when Oda saw that setter. It was the semi-finals of the middle school prefectural tournament. He didn’t go on the first day when the first and second rounds were taking place, but his friend from his middle school volleyball team told him that there was an interesting team, which piqued his interest so he went on the second day.

The school was Monshiro Middle School, an inexperienced school that hadn’t even appeared in the tournament until that previous year. Honestly speaking, at first he even felt anger towards that informant, wondering what was so interesting about that team. Of the four remaining schools, their attack and defense were inferior, and it was a wonder that they had made it this far. Incidentally, Kuroba Yuni wasn’t at the semi-finals. If he had been, they would have left a lasting impression.

He was watching in a cold mood, but when the setter hit a jump serve, he suddenly leaned forward. Even the one element of left-handedness was a valuable quality for a volleyball player. But even if you took that away, his form was excellent. He didn’t seem muscular, but the way his body axis was used from the rotation of his shoulders to his swing was beautiful, and he was able to use his trunk to swing his arm, so the ball given intense power. Is he really in middle school!?

It wasn’t just the serve. There were many cases where the receive was not returned to a good position and the setter had to move to set the ball, but even when he broke his stance and ran beneath the ball at the very last second, in the next moment, he set the ball precisely to where the attacker was. His ball handling, step work, how he used his pivot leg—all of the skills for setting stood out. Generally speaking, he could only be described as the embodiment of sense.

Apparently, he hurt a finger on his left hand, his dominant hand, in the middle of the first set, but astonishingly after that, he started to use just his right hand to do jump sets. He didn’t seem desperate and his accuracy was no less accurate than a two-handed set.

“He’s…ambidextrous!?”

Unthinkingly slapping his knee and standing up, he then sat back down, feeling shamed from the surrounding gazes.

But no matter how super middle school level he was, he was still a middle schooler in terms of strength. He could perceive that fatigue was accumulating within him. It was a team where the other members weren’t as blessed, and as a result, Monshiro left the court with a huge straight loss.

Haijima Kimichika. That was a name he had never heard of within the prefecture.

Aoki had later pulled out the information that he was the regular setter as a second-year in a tournament in Tokyo the year before, and he had even been selected as an outstanding player. When he heard that, he was astonished and couldn’t quite understand it.

To think that a guy like that would come to a no-name public school like us—he had been casually looking at the class lists for the new students when he came across that name, and it was such an abrupt shock that he did a double-take. However, he didn’t think it was a common enough name where there would be someone else who shared it. While inconveniencing the new students, as he thrust his face at the bulletin board and stared at it hard enough for a hole to open up, he couldn’t stop himself from laughing out loud. He had always wished he had a good setter on his team. In his last year, what he had been waiting for had come flying in——.

He’s not playing volleyball now…?

***

“The only thing I can think of is that there was an injury…”

“The first-years said it wasn’t an injury. And apparently the dislocation of his finger wasn’t serious either.”

“Was there any other reason?”

“There are plenty of reasons for quitting.”

Dissatisfied with Aoki’s philosophical way of speaking, Oda sullenly closed his mouth. The shoulders of Aoki, walking next to him, rose lightly.

The next day after practice, Oda and Aoki used the fifteen minute break between second and third periods to visit Haijima’s class. When the two stood at the door of Class 1-F, which was at the end of the row of first-year classes, the girl near the door jumped and let out a small cry. She probably saw Aoki.

“Is Haijima here?”

The first-year girl said “Y-yes!”, turned around, and ran up to a seat by the window.

A male student, hanging his behind shallowly off the seat of his chair and leaning far back on the back of his chair with his eyes closed—a haughty posture for a freshman on his fourth day of school—turned his head towards the girl in annoyance. The girl pointed over to them and said something, and he took off his silver-colored headphones and turned his head over to them with a suspicious look on his face.

“He seems hard to handle.”

Aoki, who didn’t go to the middle school prefecturals, voiced his thoughts.

Leaving his headphones on his desk, Haijima stood from his seat.

He’s so thin…it doesn’t feel like he’s still training, Oda observed, which was his usual habit. But, the overall balance of his body was good. Had he grown taller since he saw him at the prefecturals? He was a head taller than the average first-year boy in the classroom, but his head was small, and his thin-framed glasses fit easily. Normally you’d want him as an attacker, but with him as a setter, the entire team’s offensive ability will skyrocket… He was already thinking about teambuilding and laughed bitterly in his mind at his own hastiness.

“What is it?”

Haijima said, looking at Aoki’s face without hesitation. He had heard about it, but his intonation had no local accent. He didn’t want have any preconceived notions, but he couldn’t help but feel that he would be difficult to approach.

“Ah, the main is over here.”

Aoki said, indicating diagonally downward lightly, and for the first time, Haijima’s gaze was directed at Oda. As if to say, I didn’t notice you because the lower frame of my glasses created a blind spot. One would think that you would be a little thankful if your seniors took the trouble to visit you, but his attitude was quite flat. Not frank, but simply flat.

Puffing up his chest a little bit, Oda faced Haijima.

“I’m Oda, a third-year, and this is Aoki. We’re the captain and vice captain for boys’ volleyball. By the way, he’s a center, and I’m a outside hitter.”

“I can tell that when I look at him,” Haijima said, indicating Aoki with his eyes, returned his gaze to Oda and mouthed “outside hitter?” He couldn’t say that he had a good impression of him from a while ago, but…no, he wouldn’t assume who people were based on impressions.

“Are you inviting me to join?”

“Ah? Yeah, this would be settled a lot more quickly if you tell us. Why didn’t you hand in a provisional admission form? I heard you weren’t injured.”

“Inter-High group prelims, you lost 1-2 in the first round of the finals tournament. Autumn Tournament, you got through the first round with 2-0, but lost the second round 0-2. Spring Inter-High prelims, you lost 0-2 in the first round. No participation in the rookie tournament.”

He spoke like he was reading aloud the English translation he had just worked out beforehand. He was openmouthed for an instant, but then it hit him. They were the achievements of the Seiin High School boys’ volleyball team at regular games for the last year. He had all that in his head?

“I just saw what Koutairen published.” (1)

With an indifferent sigh, and no hesitation or guilt whatsoever, Haijima continued to say this.

“There’s no point for me to be on a team like that if I’m the only good player.”

He didn’t take in the meaning right away. It pierced beyond Oda’s scope of understanding. There were inevitably players who became arrogant because they had ability and strength, and he had seen several of them on and off the team. But, this sort of arrogance is different, the way it pierces through is too diagonally upwards, not straight up——

What’s with this guy?

With a nearly nonexistent bow of his head, Haijima tried to turn back. “Wait!” He reflexively took his arm. “We’re still not done talking yet, freshman.” His body moved before the anger welled up within him belatedly, and he used intimidation in his voice. Haijima only took his arm back in annoyance, not even flinching at all. The first-years in the classroom made a stir for an instant, then closed their mouths and froze.

“Shin. Leave him alone. Let’s go.”

He was about to raise his fist unthinkingly when Aoki stopped him.

“That guy really is hard to deal with.”

Oda gritted his teeth as Aoki’s long arms kept him away from the doorway. A feeling like sadness came over him after the anger, and he felt hot behind his eyes. Why do only those who are blessed talk like this…

Haijima narrowed his eyes quizzically.

“Why are you clinging to that position?”

He made that sharp parting remark, which he couldn’t believe he heard, and turned his back on them.

From next to Oda, who stiffened with no response, a leg suddenly stretched out. The sole of Aoki’s indoor shoes kicked Haijima’s bottom as he was about to sit down in his seat. …Huh? Oda, who was dumbfounded by Aoki’s unexpected action, watched as Haijima pitched forward spectacularly and crashed into the row of desks that lined the classroom.

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#2.43: Seiin Koukou Danshi Volley-bu #2.43 translation #2.43: seiin high school boys volleyball club #2.43 book 1

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rudrjobdesk · 2 years

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यूपी बोर्ड के 10वीं और 12वीं के नतीजों की तारीख का ऐलान जल्द, ये है चेक करने का तरीका

Image Source : PTI/FILE UP Board Result 2022 UP Board Result 2022: यूपी बोर्ड के 10वीं और 12वीं के नतीजों का इंतजार जल्द ही खत्म होने वाला है। मीडिया रिपोर्ट्स के मुताबिक, नतीजों का ऐलान 15 जून तक कर दिया जाएगा। कहा ये भी जा रहा है कि 10वीं और 12वीं के नतीजे एक ही दिन जारी किए जा सकते हैं। हालांकि अभी तक उत्तर प्रदेश माध्यमिक शिक्षा परिषद (UPMSP) नतीजे जारी करने के लिए कोई आधिकारिक ऐलान नहीं…

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#Results Hindi News #up 10th result #up 12th result #UP Board 10th Result #UP Board 12th Result #up board result #UP Board Result 2022 #up board result date #up high school result #up inter result 2022 #uttar pradesh board result #यूपी बोर्ड #यूपी बोर्ड न्यूज #यूपी बोर्ड रिजल्ट

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myresultplus · 4 years

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UP Board Result 2020: Copy Checking Process Likely to Resume Soon

The Uttar Pradesh Board of Secondary Education is likely to resume the evaluation process for Class X and XII answer sheets from April 25, 2020. Earlier the evaluation process for UP Board 2020 Answer Sheets was commenced on March 16. The 10 per cent assessment was completed but in the wake of the COVID-19 outbreak, the government postponed the evaluation process. As per the media reports, Deputy CM Dr Dinesh Sharma had done a video conferencing with the officials. During the conference, Deputy CM said that the investigation of UP board answer sheets should be started from 25 April. The evaluation process will be held at the centres where 10% of the evaluation process have been completed. More than four lakh copies have come from other districts to the centre. The evaluation process has been fixed at four centres. Along with this, the examiners have to maintain social distancing while examining copies. Also, they have to sanitize their hands from time to time. The availability of sanitizer should be instructed at every centre. In this regard, the Deputy CM gave instructions in the video conferencing. The UP Board Class 10, 12 Board Examinations 2020 was commenced from February 18, 2020. As per the earlier examination schedule, the UP Board Class 10th Exam 2020 was to be conducted for 12 days while the UP Board Class 12th Exam was scheduled for 15 days. Students can check the fastest result from our website 'My Result Plus' as soon as the result will be declared. These steps will help the student to check the UP Board 10th, 12th Result 2020 online without any trouble. How to check UP Board 10th, 12th Result 2020 online? - Click on the option below UP Board Result 2020 - A new page will open - Fill in the required details - Download the UP Board Result 2020. To Read This News in Hindi: Click Here Evaluation Centres: Centres have been set up in the district for evaluation of board examination copies. It provides for the evaluation of intermediate copies in high school and MG Inter College, MP Inter College and Jubilee Inter College at St Andrews Inter College and MSI Inter College. Duty of 3,196 teachers has been imposed at these centres for evaluation of copies. On the first day only 1868 teachers arrived, 1328 teachers were absent.

#up board #up board result #up board result 2020

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ultimateketomealplan · 2 years

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12 Prisoners Lodged in Agra's Central Jail Passed UPMSP Inter, High School Exams

12 Prisoners Lodged in Agra’s Central Jail Passed UPMSP Inter, High School Exams

Twelve prisoners lodged at central jail here passed the annual class 10th and 12th UP board examination, a police official said on Sunday. Senior Superintendent VK Singh told PTI, “In class 10th three prisoners have grabbed first division rank, whereas six prisoners have got second division rank. Besides, in class 12th all the three prisoners have got second division.” The results for Class 10th…

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designdekko · 2 years

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Creating beautiful spaces around the globe: A women’s leadership story

I-Jin’s love for nurturing talent and a strong understanding of building practices has allowed her to become a mentor to WATG’s up-and-coming designers. She is passionate about leading talented teams that challenge expectations and deliver work that inspires clients and users alike. She feels that the best designs are realised when the developer, operator, architect and consultants are fully aligned with a shared vision. Excerpts from her interview with Design Dekko.

Also Read | Kareena Kapoor Khan’s new home in Bandra with European styled decor & wooden detailing

What drew you to a career in design?

The home that I lived in as a child inspired me to enter a career in design – my architect father designed a home that I realised from early on was rather beautiful and different from the homes that my friends lived in. Our tropical home was inspired by Frank Lloyd Wright and Japanese architecture so it literally “flowed” into the garden and spaces “overlapped”, being flexibly altered by moving screens and partitions.

Also Read | Montreal, Canada : New outdoor furniture section on degaspe.ca

Were there any challenges you experienced while applying for a job or if there was an opportunity for a promotion?

I’m glad to say that I was given the space to advance in my career without having to actively seek it or face obstacles to promotion due to my gender. Also other life experiences helped to build resilience and groom me as a leader. For example, I used to teach, which helped me overcome a fear of speaking to large groups. I was a captain in a national sporting team and held a board member role in a women’s advocacy group that faced a lot of challenges. I simply followed my passion to do whatever job I had at hand and to do it to my best ability. Each job experience served as a solid foundation for my next career move.

Also Read | Different ways to style a dresser or chest of drawers

Ten years of being a practising architect helped me be an educator for the next decade. Both made me a strong candidate to be hired at WATG when they were building the Singapore office, and where connections with the schools of architecture served us well. I feel very lucky to have experienced the cultures of the East and West having been born in Singapore and studied in the UK. Now I can apply those studies in my practice working for the past 11 years for a global firm founded in the United States. Through this job, I have been able to work on hospitality projects across the globe and in many amazing destinations.

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What does being a woman in the design industry mean to you?

It means a lot to me to be holding the Managing Director position in a significant inter-disciplinary office of WATG. I am grateful for the support received all round. At the outset, being a woman in a traditionally male-dominated field made me question the “rules” and assumptions about the design theory and practice ever since I was a student. In fact, “Gender and Space” was the subject of my dissertation and it has fueled a questioning attitude about the norms that we take for granted as a historical result of male perspectives. I believe that an outside-in perspective spurs creativity.

Also Read | Interior stylist Bhawana Bhatnagar on smart lockers at residential spaces

As a young graduate, I contributed articles in design publications interviewing female architects who conveyed their approaches which I felt reflected a “feminine” sensibility – these included architects who adopted a sensory-based approach; design of spaces built around a rich narrative; a craft-based approach, and a client-oriented “listening” one. Being a woman is an opportunity to stand out and contribute a fresh perspective.

What is your leadership style?

I’m high on communication and getting the buy-in. Collaboration is key and I enjoy identifying the right talent and interesting combinations of team members where the whole is definitely more than the sum of the parts.

How do you bring other women on your team ‘up’ and help push forward their careers?

I find that many women work incredibly hard, can be rather self-critical and don’t always recognise how good they are. I try to express how amazing they are and I try to encourage ambition where it is lacking. I am glad to say that women should not feel out of place because of their gender. In fact, there is an increasing number of leading female role models and acceptance in the design world which is great!

Also Read | Prestigious International Honors for Innovative, Inclusive Upper Los Angeles River Plan

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mythicallore · 6 years

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The Green River Killer - A History

Gary Leon Ridgway was born on February 18, 1949, in Salt Lake City, Utah, the second of Mary and Thomas Ridgway's three sons. His home life was somewhat troubled; relatives have described his mother as domineering and have said that young Ridgway witnessed more than one violent argument between his parents. His father was a bus driver who would often complain about the presence of sex workers.

Ridgway had a bed wetting problem until he was 13, and his mother would wash his genitals after every episode. He would later tell defense psychologists that, as an adolescent, he had conflicting feelings of anger and sexual attraction toward his mother, and fantasized about killing her.

Ridgway was dyslexic, and was held back a year in high school. When he was sixteen, he stabbed a 6 year old boy, who survived the attack. Ridgway had led the boy into the woods and then stabbed him through the ribs into his liver.

Ridgway graduated from Tyee High School in 1969 and married his 19 year old high school girlfriend, Claudia Kraig. He joined the US Navy and was sent to Vietnam, where he served on board a supply ship and saw combat. During his time in the military, Ridgway began to have frequent sexual inter course with numerous sex workers and contracted gonorrhea; although angered by this, he continued his practice without protection. While Ridgway was abroad, Kraig had an extramarital affair. The marriage ended within a year.

When questioned about Ridgway after his arrest, friends and family described him as friendly but strange. His first two marriages resulted in divorce because of infidelities by other partners. His second wife, Marcia Winslow, claimed that he had placed her in a chokehold. He had become religious during his second marriage, proselytizing door to door reading the Bible aloud at work and at home, and insisting the his wife follow the strict teachings of their pastor. Ridgway would also frequently cry after sermons or reading the Bible. Despite his beliefs, Ridgway continued to solicit the services of sex workers and wanted his wife to participate in sex in public and inappropriate places, sometimes even in areas where his victims' bodies were later discovered.

According to women in his life, Ridgway had an insatiable sexual appetite. His three ex-wives and several ex-girlfriends reported that he demanded sex from them several times a day. Often, he would want to have sex in a public area or in the woods. Ridgway himself admitted to having a fixation with sex workers, with whom he had a love-hate relationship. He frequently complained about their presence in his neighborhood, but he also took advantage of their services regularly. It has been speculated that Ridgway was torn between his lusts and his staunch religious beliefs.

Throughout the 1980s and 1990s, Ridgway is believed to have murdered at least 71 women near Seattle and Tacoma, Washington. In court statements, he later reported that he had killed so many that he lost count. A majority of the murders occurred between 1982-1984. The victims were believed to be either prostitutes or runaways picked up along Pacific Highway South, whom he strangled. Most of their bodies were dumped in wooded areas around the Green River, Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, and other "Dump sites" within South King County. There were also two confirmed and another suspected victims found in the Portland Oregon area. The bodies were often left in clusters, sometimes posed, usually nude. He would sometimes return to the victims' bodies and have sexual intercourse with them. Ridgway later explained that he did not find necrophilia more sexual satisfying, but having sex with the deceased reduced his need to obtain a living victim and thus limited his exposure to being caught. Because most of the bodies were not discovered until only the skeletons remained, three victims are still unidentified. Ridgway occasionally contaminated the dump sites with gum, cigarettes, and written materials belonging to others, and he even transported a few victims' remains across state lines into Oregon to confuse the police.

Ridgway began each murder by picking up a woman, usually a prostitute. He sometimes showed the woman a picture of his son, to trick her into trusting him. After raping her, Ridgway strangled her from behind. He initially strangled them manually. However, after many victims inflicted wounds and bruises on his arm while trying to defend themselves. Ridgway began using ligatures. He killed most victims in his home, his truck, or a secluded area. In the early 1980s, the King County Sheriff's Office formed the Green River Task Force to investigate the murders. Task force members included Robert Keppel and Dave Reichert, who periodically interviewed the incarcerated serial killer Ted Bundy in 1984. Bundy offered his opinions on the psychology, motivations, and behavior of a killer; he suggested that the killer was revisiting the dump sites to have sex with his victims, which turned out to be true, and if police found a fresh grave, they should stake it out and wait for him to come back. Also contributing to the investigation was John E Douglas who developed a profile of the suspect.

Ridgway was arrested in 1982 and 2001 on charges related to prostitution. He became a suspect in the Green River killings in 1983. In 1984, Ridgway took and passed a polygraph test, although careful review using quality control protocols later developed by the FBI determined that Ridgway actually failed his polygraph test. On April 7, 1987, a police took hair and saliva samples from Ridgway.

Around 1985, Ridgway began dating Judith Mawson, who became his 3rd wife in 1988. Mawson claimed in a 2010 television interview that when she moved into his house while they were dating, there was no carpet. Detectives later told her he had probably wrapped a body in the carpet. In the same interview, she described how he would leave for work early in the morning some days, ostensibly for the overtime pay. Mawson speculated that he must have committed some of the murders while supposedly working these early shifts. She claimed that she had not suspected Ridgway's crimes before she was contacted by authorities in 1987, and had not even heard of the Green River Killer before that time because she did not watch the news.

Author Pennie Morehead interviewed Ridgway in prison, and he said while he was in the relationship with Mawson, his kill rate went down, and he truly loved her. Indeed, of his 49 known victims, only 3 were killed after he married Mawson. Mawson told a local television reporter, "I feel I have saves lives... by being his wife and making him happy."

The samples collected in 1987 were later subjected to a DNA analysis, providing the evidence for his arrest warrant. On November 30, 2001, Ridgway was at the Kenworth Truck factory, where he worked as a spray painter, when police arrived to arrest him. Ridgway was arrested on suspicion of murdering four women nearly 20 years earlier after first being identified as a potential suspect, when DNA evidence conclusively liked semen left in the victims to the saliva swab taken by the police. The four victims named in the original indictment were Marcia Chapman, Opal Mills, Cynthia Hinds, and Carol Ann Christensen. Three more victims - Wendy Coffield, Debra Bonner, and Debra Estes - were added to the indictment after a forensic scientist identified microscopic spray paint spheres as a specific brand and composition of paint used at the Kenworth factory during the specific time frame when these victims were killed.

Early in August 2003, Seattle television news reported that Ridgway had been moved from a maximum security cell at King County Jail to an Airway Heights Minimum-Medium Security Level Tank. Other news reporters stated that his lawyers, led by Anthony Savage, were closing a plea bargain that would spare him the death penalty in return for his confession to a number of the Green River murders.

On November 5, 2003, Ridgway entered a guilty plea to 48 charges of aggravated first degree murder as part of a plea bargain, agreed to in June, that would spare him execution in exchange for his cooperation in locating the remains of his victims and providing other details. In his statement accompanying his guilty plea, Ridgway explained that he had killed all of his victims inside King County, Washington, and that he had transported and dumped the remains of the two women near Portland to confuse the police.

On December 18, 2003, King County Superior Court Judge Richard Jones sentenced Ridgway to 48 life sentences with no possibility of parole and one life sentence, to be served consecutively. He was also sentenced to an additional 10 years for tampering with evidence for each of the 48 victims, adding 480 years to his 48 life sentenced.

Ridgway confessed to more confirmed murders than any other American serial killer. Over a period of five months of police and prosecutor interviews, he confessed to 48 murders - 42 of which were on the police's list of probable Green River Killer victims. On February 9, 2004, county prosecutors began to release the videotape records of Ridgway's confessions. In one taped interview, he told investigators initially that he was responsible for the death of 65 women, but in another taped interview with Reichert on December 31, 2003, Ridgway claimed to have murdered 71 victims and confessed to having had sex with them before killing them, a detail which he did not reveal until after his sentencing. In his confession, he acknowledged that he targeted prostitutes because they were "easy to pick up" and that he "hated most of them." He confessed that he had sex with his victims' bodies after he murdered them, but claimed he began burying the later victims so that he could resist the urge to commit necrophilia.

Ridgway talked to and tried to make his victims comfortable before he committed the murders. In his own words, "I would talk to her... and get her mind off of the sex, anything she was nervous about. And think, you know, she thinks, 'Oh, this guy cares'... which I didn't. Which I didn't. I just want to, uh, get her in the vehicle and eventually kill her.

Later in a statement, Ridgway said that murdering young women was his "career."

Ridgway was placed in solitary confinement at Washington State Penitentiary in Walla Walla in January 2004. On May 14, 2015, he was transferred to the USP Florence, a high-security federal prison east of Canon City, Colorado. In September 2015, after a public outcry and discussions with Governor Jay Inslee, Corrections Secretary Bernie Warner announced that Ridgway would be transferred back to Washington to be "easily accessible" for open murder investigations. Ridgway was returned to by charter plane to Washington State Penitentiary in Walla Walla from the High Security Federal Prison in Florence Colorado, on October 24, 2015.

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gary_Ridgway

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