#what was this tournament because there were scouts all around the court

[thankyouforthememoriesworld]

🔎 Just found footage of Geno watching Azzi at 13 years old. Azzi fights for the ball and if you look at the man standing behind the courtside seats in blue...I don't think he stays for long. Just a random surprise lol.

https://youtu.be/TLrTGZ8m7VE?si=axdk0LMedcY_sTZN&t=1447

You have legendary college basketball coaches watching you play at 13🤯 because in front of Grandpa, it looks like Muffet McGraw and she stayed a long time.

[flyingwargle]

the front door opens. shoes are scuffed as they’re kicked off in a heap. “i’m back…” the voice is muffled, drifting off. the lights flood the apartment, but the book over kuroo’s eyes shield him from the onslaught. “bro?”

kuroo pulls the book from his face as bokuto approaches him on the couch, gym bag slung over his shoulder, hair down from his post-workout shower. “everything okay, bro?” he asks.

“just about.” papers are spread across the table like a bad conspiracy theorist, tablet cast aside. kuroo throws the book down beside him with a sigh. “did you see any good eye candy at the gym?”

“you and i both know that we’re whipped for other people that aren’t at this university.”

“you’re right. but?”

bokuto flops down beside him. “but i saw that fourth-year econ guy bench 250, and i thought, if he can bench that much, i should be able to do at least 280 before graduating.”

“good luck. you’ve got two semesters left until then.”

“you gotta come next time to spot me.”

kuroo closes his eyes. “i’ll see. these last few days have been stressful. it’d be nice to have a distraction.”

“it’s open gym tonight.” he can hear the hope in bokuto’s voice.

“maybe. i have some assignments left.”

“come on, bro! some of the guys will be there for a casual game. they miss you.”

of course they do. in fact, a lot of people miss him, like the coaches, his ex-teammates, even some independent sport journalists who latch onto up-and-coming athletes to document their rise to stardom, then brag that they discovered them first. kuroo turned his back on all of that at the start of his final year, to secure employment before graduation, or at least an internship. he still hasn’t had any luck.

perhaps it’s his own fault. instead of joining business clubs and associations, he was on the volleyball team, despite not wanting to go pro. it was mostly because bokuto begged him, and although he spent most of his time as a second-string player, he eventually became a regular. his block won them the last collegiate tournament, the title of best middle blocker, and a dozens of scouts’ attention. many of their business cards were shoved in the bottom of his sock drawer.

he still remembers the conversation he had with a representative from a sports agency, especially their dismissive laugh. you’re better off on the court than on the sidelines, kid.

what if that’s true? he definitely has a future as an athlete. but then he’d recall kenma’s smile and tsukishima’s laughs during the fated battle at the trash heap, and the awe on those kids’ faces at the volleyball gym that he volunteers at. that’s all worth something, isn’t it?

bokuto stands to head into the kitchenette. “you hungry? i’m starved.” university did his boisterous best friend well. he’s a decent cook who can mix a pretty good smoothie, and he’ll soon graduate with an education degree, future already decided with the msby black jackals.

and then there’s kuroo, who quit the team in his final year to job hunt, but to no avail. sure, he isn’t graduating yet, but knowing that every agency and company that he contacted hasn’t replied back doesn’t sit well with him.

his sigh is long and heavy. bokuto, who is peering in the fridge, looks up at him. “you sure you’re okay, bro?”

“bro, tell it to me straight.”

“i’m gay.”

“bro, tell it to me gay. should i have gone pro?”

the fridge closes. plastic bags rustle. water runs over a cutting board. “i’ll tell it to you straight and gay because i’m your best friend. first, straight – nah. i mean, you’re good, like, really good, but i don’t think the professional scene fits you.”

kuroo is silent. that is true. he never envisioned himself shining beneath the stadium lights or featured on billboards and ads. even when he was interviewed after games, it’d always be brief. he didn’t like the attention.

“gay, on the other hand,” bokuto continues, “it’s still no.”

“what?” kuroo twists around to face him. “that’s the same as being straight.”

“that’s because being pro isn’t for you. just like being straight isn’t for you.” they conducted a very scientific experiment to see if kuroo could be bi, but the results came back undeniably gay. “you wanted to do sports promotion, right? so that’s what you’ll do.”

he sinks back onto the couch. “i haven’t gotten any calls,” he mumbles. “like, none at all. i talked with the counselors and a bunch of alumni for advice on my resume and portfolio, but i never got any responses. i’m…scared that i won’t get anywhere with this.”

“you shouldn’t be. you just need that one call.” his friend turns to the cutting board. “there’s still time left, bro. plus, you played volleyball, so that gives you an edge.”

“you don’t have to have played it to know how to promote it, bro.”

“yeah, but you have a player’s perspective! that’s valuable, you know?”

kuroo supposes he’s right, but doesn’t say anything. soon, the apartment smells like yakisoba, which they eat on the couch. “come by tonight,” bokuto says through a mouthful. “play around and forget about job hunting for a while. have some fun.”

“okay. sure. you just want to play with me one last time, don’t you?”

“i didn’t say that! you did!”

he finds his court shoes afterwards and follows bokuto to the gym, where his ex-teammates welcome him with open arms. like bokuto, most plan to go pro, a few with contracts lined up already, some planning to attend tryouts. only a handful don’t plan to take volleyball further.

the semester ends, and the next begins. kuroo continues his job hunt, bokuto with volleyball and training, one whose future is secured, the other feeling himself grow nearer and nearer to the abyss. it’s one weekend when bokuto is away for games and kuroo is wallowing in the darkness of the apartment that his phone rings, and he crawls out from his blanket cocoon on the couch to pick it up. “hello?” he says, fully expecting a spam call.

“hello, is this kuroo tetsurou-san?”

his back straightens, the tone unfamiliar but professional. “yes, who is this?”

“kobayashi enya of red star sports. we recently reviewed your resume and portfolio, and we’re quite impressed with your work. we’re actually looking for a paid intern student at the moment to help us with a project, would you be interested in that?”

“yes,” he blurts out. “i’d love that, but how did you…”

“ah, we were recommended to you by one of my colleagues. we mostly work with collegiate athletes, and my colleague works closely with one such athlete. he spoke very highly of you, actually. he’s an outsider hitter for chuo university, if you know him.”

“i…might. i’m familiar with their athletes.”

“perfect. do you have time to discuss this in more detail?”

kuroo pulls himself out of his cocoon and opens his tablet, chatting for the next half hour about the internship, pay, potential job opportunities. “we’d like to see what you can do first. if we’re interested, we’ll extend a job offer to you, if that’s all right.”

“yes, of course. thank you very much for the opportunity.”

“i look forward to working with you soon, kuroo-san.”

they end the call. kuroo pumps his fist in the air, yells at the top of his lungs. he’s about to call bokuto when he sees an unread text message.

boku-bro koutarou (3:45 pm) told you to wait for that one call!!

he could never wish for a better best friend.

[sinclairss]

[DONALD GLOVER, CISMALE, HE/HIM/HIS] When’s the last time anyone heard anything about [LUCAS SINCLAIR]? Old friends remember them as [LOYAL & ATHLETIC] but also [HEADSTRONG & SENSITIVE], no wonder they’re still known as [THE RANGER] around town. Today, in 2006, they are [35] and some people say they remind them of [COZY SWEATERS, BLACK COFFEE, EARLY MORNING RUNS, RED MARKS ON PAPER, THE SOUND OF A BASKETBALL BOUNCING ON A HARDWOOD FLOOR, SCUFFED BASKETBALL SHOES, HALF DRUNK BEER BOTTLES WITH PEELING LABELS, CAT FUR EVERYWHERE EVEN THOUGH HE’S NOT A CAT PERSON (ALLEGEDLY),]. [dani, 23, she/her/hers, est].

biography.

make new friends. step out of comfort zone and try new things. be yourself. that was lucas sinclair’s to-do list to surviving his freshman year of high school. 1986 had different plans for him. lucas did all of those things. he joined the basketball team over hellfire club, much to mike and dustin’s chagrin. he made a lifelong friend in jay demario. and, ultimately, he ran right back to the party when they needed him. he got his ass kicked by his team captain, watched helplessly as the first girl he loved cared for had her bones broken in half, and lost two of his best friends to the upside down. he failed. and that failure stuck with him for years. he was not going to fail anyone else like he’d failed to protect will and el. he was going to make sure his people were okay. and he was going to finish what he started in high school even if it killed him. so lucas sinclair went from benchwarmer to starting point guard, led the hawkins high tigers to back-to-back state championships, and earned himself a scholarship to notre dame so his parents wouldn’t have to worry about paying for his college just because he wasn’t as smart as erica, all while keeping tabs on dustin and mike and writing a bunch of letters he didn’t have an address to send to max that might still be shoved in the back of his closet.

he was an athlete and he played d&d with the hellfire club on the weekends. he dated a pretty girl who followed him to college. he was going to bring the fighting irish to the tournament, get noticed by scouts, and get a shoe deal. maybe he’d become an agent...or he’d play a few years professionally if he was lucky!

but lucas rode the bench his freshman year of college. he worked out all summer to earn his spot on the court and had a fantastic sophomore season...until a new year’s day tournament led to a torn acl. he had surgery, but the rehab was difficult. he fell into a pretty bad place, mis-using his pain pill prescriptions and eventually getting hooked. he made rash decisions including dropping out of school and heading home. he worked at family video while rehabbing his knee and saving up cash to...do what exactly? run off to california? very funny.

he spent two gap years in hawkins, going through the motions, occasionally hanging out with his old friends and and feeling trapped by the four walls of his childhood bedroom. a combination of reconnecting with mr. clarke while trespassing in the hawkins middle school gym and a good therapist that his mom definitely didn’t force him into seeing made things clearer to him. (marian tried, but it was honestly finding some of the old photos of the four of them in his classroom...and all of their old projects still taped up on the walls in mr. clarke’s classroom that gave him the nudge to return to school.)  he’d probably never play in the nba. not on a bum leg, anyway. and if he couldn’t do that, well, keeping the curiosity door open wasn’t a bad trade off.

he returned to notre dame two years and many lifetimes wiser, got a teaching degree, and walked back on to the basketball team. he helped the irish into the big dance and had a pretty successful athletic career while earning his degree. lucas even married his high school sweetheart while on a spring break trip to las vegas (which his mom is still pissed about, by the way!)

he and tracy probably would have moved to chicago if not for charles’ heart attack. lucas had to go home and, thankfully, his wife seemed content to follow him back to hawkins.

honestly? lucas got married because that’s what he thought he was supposed to be doing at twenty-three. some of his friends were married, most of them had kids, and his mom was dying to join the grandma train. lucas was (and is) still searching for something to fill the massive gap left when will and el died. he’s been trying for years: first with athletics, then his romantic relationships, then  with the pills and the weed and the booze he definitely didn’t get from jonathan or steve, but nothing ever makes him feel whole anymore.

the closest thing that does? seeing the spark a kid’s eyes when they finally figure out a difficult science concept. or the pure joy on every face when the girls’ basketball team he coaches finally wins a game. but as soon as he goes home to an empty apartment? he’s fucking lonely.

and he was lonely even before the divorce. he told tracy as much, and it...didn’t go over well. they fought, which was kind of...exhilarating, actually? they’d had a superficial spark that had burned hot and fast but died quickly and they both had just been going through the motions for years by the time lucas admitted that he just didn’t feel like it was worth it anymore.

his life is fine, if boring. he found some joy in coaching and substitute teaching at hawkins middle. when mr. clarke passed away, he stepped in automatically. if mr. clarke wasn’t there to guide the next generation, lucas sure would.

oh, and he’s also an uncle. which is pretty fun.

[ledenews]

Dreams Coming True at The Highlands Sports Complex

There were 2,000 wrestlers, 125 basketball teams, and two soccer clubs from several states that competed at The Highlands Sports Complex. Last month, right? In March? Wrong. In fact, those statistics were tallied just this past weekend. General Manager Harvey Greenidge reported the Viper Pit Wrestling Nationals, the Slam Jam Basketball Tournament, and the Beadling and Victory soccer clubs all competed inside and outside the $30-million, 200-square-foot facility that opened less than four years ago in the middle of The Highlands. After all, there are six basketball/volleyball courts, full-sized indoor and outdoor turfed fields, four batting cages/pitch tunnels, a play-climb area, an arcade, a café, meeting and event spaces, and a second-floor mezzanine level so parents, coaches, and college scouts can watch from above. The interior of The Highlands Sports Complex can be configured in many ways for different events. This supercenter of sports in Ohio County employs around 100 employees with 10-15 full-time positions, and this past weekend more than 5,000 individuals entered and exited the building. So, OK, just a busy couple of days, right? What about this upcoming weekend? Well, Greenidge predicts much the same foot traffic for the Wheeling Area Chamber Home & Life Expo, the KC Productions Spring Craft Show, and the 2024 OVA Country Roads Volleyball Classic. “For this time of year,” Greenidge said with a smile, “this is normal for us. We typically have two or three tournaments or programs running at a time on Saturdays and Sundays, and we’re hoping for much more this summer. We want to keep raising the bar because we know our team and this facility can handle it. “People from across the country have visited this facility since we opened, and that speaks to the quality of what we have here,” he said. “Plus, we’re surrounded by so many stores and restaurants, so it just makes sense for the folks who come here.” The Highlands Sports Complex is an enormous structure in which fields, courts, and batting cages are located. The Commercial Count Just ask her and Christine Thomas from Quaker Steak & Lube will tell you. “When The (Highlands) Sports Complex is busy, we’re really busy here at Quaker Steak & Lube,” the eatery’s marketing manager said. “It’s really easy to explain. The sports complex is the best thing that could have happened for us after the pandemic, there’s no doubt about that. “We see the teams and the parents from all over the place,” she said. “I didn’t know what to expect when I first heard about it, but what a great thing it is for us here at The Highlands.” There also is a multi-purpose turf field on the exterior of The Highlands Sports Complex. The multi-purpose development site right along Interstate 70 has been growing since Cabela’s Outfitters opened in 2004, and the sports complex added a tourism dimension that packs restaurants and fills hotel rooms 12 months a year.   “It’s a terrific facility for a lot of different reasons, and it’s become a great source of traffic for all of the other businesses at The Highlands,” said Don Nickerson, the president of the Ohio County Commission. “I think it's a huge benefit to the restaurants and the hotels and even to the retail operations up there. I would have never imagined the sports complex could become what it is today, but the people who were commissioners before had that vision and it’s been very successful just like The Highlands has been through the years. “From a personal standpoint, when my daughter is playing basketball or my son is shooting archery, we always visit other businesses at The Highlands before or after their competitions,” he said. “And you always see the kids in their uniforms and with their parents at the businesses and restaurants, so there’s no doubt the sports complex is having a direct impact that’s been very positive.” Supply, Demand, and The Bottom Line “Incredible.” “Awesome.” “Amazing.” The Highlands Sports Complex is pleasing and popular among AAU tournament directors, sports camp directors, exposition organizers, and professional franchises like the Wheeling Miners, and the one comment the facility’s general manager hears most is, “Sure wish we had one of these back home.” “I hear that from our out-of-town people all of the time. Everyone who comes here wants to take it home with them because it’s a very nice facility,” Greenidge said. “But these facilities are regional so the children who live locally really are the lucky ones, and we do have a lot of local student-athletes that come here because of everything you can do on the inside. Birthday parties for local children are very popular at The Highlands Sports Complex. “The Highlands Sports Complex is really a great place for birthday parties, too, because we have a great arcade and the climbing area,” he said. “Kids have a great time here, that’s for sure.” Dollars and sense, Commissioner Nickerson explained, will determine when expansion should take place. “There have been conversations about what could be next at the sports complex and we have had requests for some outdoor baseball fields,” Nickerson explained. “And we’ve heard about ice and about a fitness center, too, and right now it’s a matter of economics because the sports complex still doesn’t pay for itself. The (Ohio) County Commission still subsidizes it. “And we knew that was going to be the case for a while after it opened, and we were told it would be probably a five-year break-even point and it’s close to four years at this point,” the commissioner added. “So, it’s just a matter of the economics when it comes to expansion.” The large arcade at the sports complex adds new games as they become available. Read the full article

[vecnasrevengerp]

welcome home LUCAS SINCLAIR (donald glover fc)

hope you brought your tissues with you! be sure to check in at home or to your hotel and don’t forget to always look over your shoulder. this is hawkins, after all.

[DONALD GLOVER, CISMALE, HE/HIM/HIS] When’s the last time anyone heard anything about [LUCAS SINCLAIR]? Old friends remember them as [LOYAL & ATHLETIC] but also [HEADSTRONG & SENSITIVE], no wonder they’re still known as [THE RANGER] around town. Today, in 2006, they are [35] and some people say they remind them of [COZY SWEATERS, BLACK COFFEE, EARLY MORNING RUNS, RED MARKS ON PAPER, THE SOUND OF A BASKETBALL BOUNCING ON A HARDWOOD FLOOR, SCUFFED BASKETBALL SHOES, HALF DRUNK BEER BOTTLES WITH PEELING LABELS, CAT FUR EVERYWHERE EVEN THOUGH HE’S NOT A CAT PERSON (ALLEGEDLY),]. [dani, 23, she/her/hers, est].

biography

make new friends. step out of comfort zone and try new things. be yourself. that was lucas sinclair’s to-do list to surviving his freshman year of high school. 1986 had different plans for him. lucas did all of those things. he joined the basketball team over hellfire club, much to mike and dustin’s chagrin. he made a lifelong friend in jay demario. and, ultimately, he ran right back to the party when they needed him. he got his ass kicked by his team captain, watched helplessly as the first girl he loved cared for had her bones broken in half, and lost two of his best friends to the upside down.he failed. and that failure stuck with him for years. he was not going to fail anyone else like he’d failed to protect will and el. he was going to make sure his people were okay. and he was going to finish what he started in high school even if it killed him.so lucas sinclair went from benchwarmer to starting point guard, led the hawkins high tigers to back-to-back state championships, and earned himself a scholarship to notre dame so his parents wouldn’t have to worry about paying for his college just because he wasn’t as smart as erica, all while keeping tabs on dustin and mike and writing a bunch of letters he didn’t have an address to send to max that might still be shoved in the back of his closet.

he was an athlete and he played d&d with the hellfire club on the weekends. he dated a pretty girl who followed him to college. he was going to bring the fighting irish to the tournament, get noticed by scouts, and get a shoe deal. maybe he’d become an agent…or he’d play a few years professionally if he was lucky!

but lucas rode the bench his freshman year of college. he worked out all summer to earn his spot on the court and had a fantastic sophomore season…until a new year’s day tournament led to a torn acl. he had surgery, but the rehab was difficult. he fell into a pretty bad place, mis-using his pain pill prescriptions and eventually getting hooked. he made rash decisions including dropping out of school and heading home. he worked at family video while rehabbing his knee and saving up cash to…do what exactly? run off to california? very funny. 

he spent two gap years in hawkins, going through the motions, occasionally hanging out with his old friends and and feeling trapped by the four walls of his childhood bedroom. a combination of reconnecting with mr. clarke while trespassing in the hawkins middle school gym and a good therapist that his mom definitely didn’t force him into seeing made things clearer to him. (marian tried, but it was honestly finding some of the old photos of the four of them in his classroom…and all of their old projects still taped up on the walls in mr. clarke’s classroom that gave him the nudge to return to school.)  he’d probably never play in the nba. not on a bum leg, anyway. and if he couldn’t do that, well, keeping the curiosity door open wasn’t a bad trade off.

he returned to notre dame two years and many lifetimes wiser, got a teaching degree, and walked back on to the basketball team. he helped the irish into the big dance and had a pretty successful athletic career while earning his degree. lucas even married his high school sweetheart while on a spring break trip to las vegas (which his mom is still pissed about, by the way!)

he and tracy probably would have moved to chicago if not for charles’ heart attack. lucas had to go home and, thankfully, his wife seemed content to follow him back to hawkins.

honestly? lucas got married because that’s what he thought he was supposed to be doing at twenty-three. some of his friends were married, most of them had kids, and his mom was dying to join the grandma train. lucas was (and is) still searching for something to fill the massive gap left when will and el died. he’s been trying for years: first with athletics, then his romantic relationships, then  with the pills and the weed and the booze he definitely didn’t get from jonathan or steve, but nothing ever makes him feel whole anymore.

the closest thing that does? seeing the spark a kid’s eyes when they finally figure out a difficult science concept. or the pure joy on every face when the girls’ basketball team he coaches finally wins a game. but as soon as he goes home to an empty apartment? he’s fucking lonely. 

and he was lonely even before the divorce. he told tracy as much, and it…didn’t go over well. they fought, which was kind of…exhilarating, actually? they’d had a superficial spark that had burned hot and fast but died quickly and they both had just been going through the motions for years by the time lucas admitted that he just didn’t feel like it was worth it anymore. 

his life is fine, if boring. he found some joy in coaching and substitute teaching at hawkins middle. when mr. clarke passed away, he stepped in automatically. if mr. clarke wasn’t there to guide the next generation, lucas sure would. 

oh, and he’s also an uncle. which is pretty fun. 

time capsule

in 1983, lucas put the demogorgan figure into the time capsule. at the time, he thought he and his friends would have a good laugh at an inside joke when it was opened.in 1984, he left candy corn from halloween in there. firstly, because candy corn sucks. secondly? halloween was when everything felt like it started for him at the time. 

in 1985, he put his favorite bandana in the time capsule. he was trying out this new thing where he tried to be popular once high school started -and erica said they made him look stupid. (not that he listens to erica…)

lucas was going to put the tickets to the championship game he’d bought his friends into the time capsule in 1986 but ultimately that just seemed so…fucking trivial. he put in a yellowing polaroid instead. the six of them, summer ‘85. it used to live on the mirror above his desk but…well, it hurt too much to look at after that.

stats

Athletics (How Athletic are they?): 3

Burglary (Can they swipe stuff?): 1

Contacts (Do they know people with information?): 2

Deceive (Are they a good liar?): -1

Drive (like, actual driving ability): 3

Empathy (On a scale of 1-10 how much of an empath are they?): 0

Fight (Do they have hands?): 2

Investigate (Can they sleuth?): 1

Lore (Kinda like knowledge): 2

Medicine (First Aid Essentially): 2

Navigation (How good are they with a map/getting around?): 2

Notice (Is your character observant?): 1

Perception (Do they notice things others might not?): 1

Provoke (Are they a shit stirrer?): -1 (although in certain company……)

Rapport (Are they charming? Can they do it on command?): 2

Resourcefulness (MacGyver scale): 2

Stealth (Are they sneaky?): 1

Will (Tenacity): 3

[featherymalignancy]

PART TWO — The Eyes of Texas: A Rowaelin Origin Story 🏐 🍺 ♥️ 

  Long before Cash and Nesta, there was Rowan and Aelin.

Rowan Whitethorn—a Navel academy graduate and recently discharged second lieutenant from the United States Navy—takes a break from studying of the police academy exam in Los Angeles to fly back to his native Hawaii and compete in a twos volleyball tournament with his ex, one of the best sand players on the amateur circuit.

Beyond Remy’s devious machinations to win Rowan back, the biggest impediment to victory is the so-called Ashryver twins, a pair of cousins from Miami with a reputation of their own. Rowan can’t help but admire the gorgeous and sharp-tongued Aelin Galathynius, who’s more than ready to give Remy a run for her money—both on the court and in the race for Rowan’s affection.

This takes place in the same AU-verse as my Nessian story In Vino Veritas, about four years before. 

This a two-shot, you can find  PART I here.

The Eyes of Texas, PART TWO

By midnight, Rowan knew he was in deep shit.

They’d migrated to another bar by that time, Aelin practically in his lap as they traded stories about college and their friends. Rowan found himself caught between despair and delight as he listened to Aelin speak, unsure if he should be reveling in the attention from a woman of her caliber, or fretting that it couldn’t last.

It wasn’t just that Aelin was beautiful, though he was admittedly so mesmerized by those blue eyes and that dazzling smile that he had to actively avoid staring.

She was funny, too.

And not “when a sexy woman makes a joke you feel oddly compelled to laugh” type of funny, either.

She was fucking hilarious.

She’d had him in stitches earlier with a story about getting the business-end of her grandmother’s chancla after she’d gone to Easter mass with blue teeth from her candy basket, and he’d hardly stopped laughing since.

Rowan had always been a somewhat serious person—even more so after Lyria’s death—but Aelin made him feel...younger. Lighter. And he might have felt guilty for that, except he’d had the oddest sensation throughout the evening that Lyria was there, laughing alongside him.

And—as if gorgeous and hysterical weren’t enough—Aelin was also incredibly bright. Despite the rigors of her volleyball schedule, she was a neuroscience and psychology double major, with plans to attend medical school and become a psychiatrist when she graduated.

It was an answer that Rowan hadn’t expected when he’d asked what she was studying, but somehow it suited her. The ambition, the focus—it explained in part why she was such an incredible athlete. Rowan knew better than anyone that it took more that height and muscles to be a success in the sport, and even among the juggernauts who’d completed in the tournament, Aelin had been in a class of her own.

She’d grown oddly bashful when he’d pressed her about her volleyball career, at which point she admitted she’d held off med school applications to accept a place on the AVP tour.

“They’ve offered you a spot?” Rowan’d asked.

Aelin’s cheeks had gone slightly pink.

“They called after the tournament,” she’d said. “A scout was there to watch me play.”

“Aelin, that’s incredible.”

At this Aelin’s smile had relaxed into something sensuous that had made Rowan’s stomach tighten.

“Couldn’t have done it without, guapo. ”

Now as Ro sat twirling the tail of Aelin’s braid around a tattooed finger, he tried to remind himself that he needed to shut all these bright and shiny feelings down. Aelin had been a danger to the comfortable numbness Rowan had been living in since the moment she stepped onto the sand of that volleyball court. Now, having heard her laugh and flirt and speak Spanish, she’d become lethal.

He told himself that if he was smart, he’d kiss her cheek right now and tell her goodnight. It would probably take him several days to extract her from pleasant place she’d settled under his skin, but he could stop the bleeding now. If he was smart, he most definitely would not sleep with her.

But apparently he wasn’t smart, because when she’d slyly tugged him to his feet and coaxed him into one of the private closets marked “For Staff Only”, he didn’t stop her.

He also didn’t stop her when she kissed him, tongue sliding effortlessly into his mouth and she hands tracked under his shirt.

It was a bad idea to want Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius the way Ro did, but he found as her hands continued their exploration that he didn’t care. Even if he could only have her for one night, he would make it enough.

“Your body is insane,” Aelin breathed, tracing the ridges of his abs in a way that made him shudder.

He couldn’t help the self-satisfied smirk which tugged at his mouth as he kissed her again.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

At this Aelin paused to laugh, eyes sparkling with wicked delight.

“Was that a big dick comment?” She said. “I knew you had it in you, Whitethorn.”

Rowan debated going for the obvious joke about having ‘it’ in her soon before quickly deciding against it. He was tipsy; it didn’t mean he had to be a jackass, too.

“Let’s go, you little troublemaker,” Ro said, reaching for the door which led from the closet to the secluded hallway.

Aelin’s answering grin was staggering in its seductive force. She casually leaned against the door, blocking his exit as she pulled him towards her by the beltloops.

“Why, are you afraid of getting caught?”

He grabbed the hand that was attempting to slip into his pants, pinning it over her head and bowing into her so she could feel how hard he already was.

“No. But the kind of sex I want, you can’t give me here.”

This seemed to stun her into aroused silence, and he reveled in the victory of rendering Aelin Galathynius speechless. However, she recovered quickly, leaning in to nip his lip.

“Fair warning: I’m not easily impressed.”

Her wrists still caught in his grip, he bent to whisper in her ear, grinding a little against her as he did so.

“So you say, but I’m going to guess you’ve only ever been with boys, Aelin. You may not realize it, but I don’t think you have any idea how good sex can actually be.”

Her legs went slightly weak at that, and he slid his knee between her thighs to keep her upright.

“And you’re going to show me?” She asked.

All the things he wanted to do to her flashed in his mind, and Rowan had to fend off a groan as he hardened further. Much more of this and they would end up doing it in this closet.

“I am,” he replied simply.

Aelin’s answering laugh was husky.

“How are you the same guy who didn’t have the cojones to ask for my number this afternoon?”

He recognized the gesture for what it was: an attempt to gain back the upper hand in their continued tug-of-war for dominance.

Turned on by her bravura, he let her, adding with a shrug, “I guess I’m more of a ‘lady in the streets’ type.”

Still, unwilling to cede to her completely he shifted his thigh where it was still nestled between her legs. She moaned a little, moving against him almost involuntarily to get the friction she needed.

Despite the desire for privacy enough to make Aelin scream herself hoarse, Ro found the idea of her rubbing one out on him too hot to resist. Rotating his knee, he pushed up until she was practically riding his thigh.

Aelin’s nails dug into his forearm as the seam of her shorts hit the exact right spot. He increased the pressure, and she moaned again, the sound growing more fractured as he snapped open one her overall straps and squeezed her firm breast over the lace. God, her tits were perfect.

“Stop or I’m going to come,” she said, teeth gritted.

Rowan didn’t bother to fend off a self-satisfied smile.

“You’re this easy to set off, Galathynius?” He laughed softly. “God, the things I’m gonna fucking to do to you.”

“I thought you said we weren’t going to bang here.”

“We aren’t,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean you can’t have an orgasm.”

“You seriously want my first one with you to be while I’m fully clothed?”

He glanced up to meet her overcome blue eyes.

“I just want to show you how many different ways I have to make you scream, Aelin.”

Taking a fistful of the denim jumper, he tugged up roughly until the fabric was splitting her. Even though all her clothes he could see what a gorgeous little pussy she had. The realization he’d soon be inside of her made Ro’s cock ache.

“Fuck,” Aelin said, hips canting forward as he used the back-and-forth friction to drag her closer to release. “This is not how I imagined things going when I brought you in here.”

Rowan kissed her neck.

“Better or worse?”

“Better,” she said. “So much better. Mierda .”

Her body tightened then relaxed slightly against him, and were he inside of her, he knew she’d be clenching around him right now.

“You have a gorgeous come face,” he told her honestly.

“I bet you do, too.”

He couldn’t fight a grin.

“Would you like to find out?”

“Yes please. ”

He pressed forward to kiss her again, their tongues tangling as he breathed, “let’s get out of here.”

Needing no further prompting, Aelin reached behind her to twist open the door before slipping out, Rowan behind her.

Taking his hand, she tugged him towards the exit, her phone already out with a map pulled up.

“Where are we headed?” He asked. “I might be able to help.”

Aelin’s answering smile was cryptic.

“It’s not far. The app is saying a 17-minute walk. Hang on.”

With this she dialed  a number before bringing the phone to her ear. Whoever she was calling—one of her cousins, Ro suspected—picked up on the second ring, and she began giving orders in rapid Spanish. After a minute she hung up, flashing Ro a simpering smile as she batted her lashes.

“Shall we?”

Rowan couldn’t fight a laugh.

“Did you just kick your cousins out of the room?”

“Suite,” she said with a growing smirk. “But who’s counting?”

“You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “We could have made it work.”

Her gaze heated, burning hot enough that Ro felt his cock stirring again. He watched as her fingers nimbly went to one of the long braids hanging over her shoulder, deftly undoing the plait.

“We don’t need an audience for all the filthy things I want you to do to me.”

He groaned.

“You’re killing me.”

She smiled, working the other braid free and giving her curtain of blonde hair a shake. Christ, he wanted to run his hands though it, then bunch in it his hands while he fucked that pretty little mouth.

She smirked as if she knew what he was thinking, even biting her lip a little in suggestion.

“Something wrong?” She said.

He only laughed.

“Completely the opposite.”

She smiled, tugging him down the street for ten blocks or so before making a left and heading towards a glittering glass building.

The Ritz Carlton.

Rowan let out a low whistle as they entered the marble lobby.

“You keeping secrets, Galathynius?”

She bit her lip.

“My dad is...not poor.”

“Define ‘not poor’.”

“He owns twenty-three luxury hotels in Miami?”

Rowan’s throat felt a bit scratchy.

“You’re a millionaire.”

Her grin was sheepish and slightly guilty.

“Kinda?”

He must have looked confused.

“I mean, yeah, with a b.”

Holy shit, her family were billionaires.

She studied him for a moment when he stopped walking, trying to take it all in. He wasn’t usually one to be embarrassed about money or his upbringing, but she was stupid rich. He suddenly felt out of his depth.

“This is why I didn’t tell you,” she said quietly. “It makes people see me differently.”

At this he glanced up, reading the sadness and loneliness in her eyes.

“It doesn’t change anything,” he found himself saying.

Dating a girl that rich, especially as a cop in Vice Squad—that could be complicated. But that’s not what this was; after tonight, Ro would likely never see her again. Besides, she’d made an effort not to make it a big deal, and hadn’t thrown money around to impress him even when she easily could have. If she could set it aside for the evening, so could he.

Also, he really wanted to fuck her. She was a girl begging for pleasure, and he wanted to be able to show her things she hadn’t experienced even in her wildest fantasies.

Aelin seemed to read the acceptance in his eyes because she tugged him towards the elevator, punching 36 before pushing him against the wall to kiss him.  Sliding his hands down her thighs, he hoisted her easily into his arm, crushing her against him.

When the door opened he didn’t bother putting her down, simply breathed against her mouth, “where?”

She gestured to the left and he headed towards the single door at the end of the hall. Producing a key from her back pocket, she slid to her feet before unlocking the door and ushering him inside.

Ro told himself not to gawk as they stepped farther into the palatial space, but it was impossible.

The lavishly-appointed suite was furnished with a living room, full kitchen, bedroom, and formal dining area, floor-to-ceiling window along the far wall looking out onto the Pacific Ocean.

There was a bottle of expensive Cuban rum and several glasses sitting on the marble island, half-smoked Monte Cristo cigars resting in a nearby tray. The Ashryvvers, it seemed, were no strangers to the finer things in life.

“Do you want a drink?” Aelin asked, trailing a hand down his back and observing him as he took in their surroundings.

He turned to her to say yes, but when he caught sight of the heat in her gaze he changed him mind.

“Later,” he said, walking her backwards into the wall closest to the bedroom.

“Thank god,” she said as he threaded a hand through hers to pull her arm above her head. “I don’t think I could bear to wait.”

Rowan chuckled, teeth grazing her ear as he said, “Does that mean you’re going to be a good girl and do as I say?”

Her blue eyes snapped to him, blazing with defiance.

“What makes you think I’m that type of girl?”

“In your everyday life, you like to be in control?”

“Yes.”

Rowan nodded.

“That’s why.”

“I don’t follow.”

“You’re used to responsibility and keeping all the plates spinning, but I bet deep down, you fantasize about being able to let go; you just don’t know how.”

She scoffed, through the sound turned to a breathy exhale as he kissed her neck.

“And what makes you think that I’ll be able to let go with you, a total stranger?”

He pulled back, kissing her softly on the lips.

“Because I am going to make you feel so good and so safe, you won’t have a choice. Do you trust me, Aelin?”

“I have no real reason to,” she hedged. “We just met.”

“But...” he said onto the sensitive skin of her throat.

She paused, muscles in her neck gorgeously taut as he tugged her earlobe with his teeth.

“Díos ayúdame,” she choked out. “Yes, I do.”

“Good girl,” he praised. “Let’s get you naked.”

Throwing the overall strap he’d previously unbuckled over her shoulder, he unsnapped the other. He knelt as he coaxed the whole garment down her hips, pausing to lave her tattoo.  He resisted the urge to venture between her legs, enjoying the way she bucked her hips towards the heat of his mouth as it pressed against her low belly.

“Patience,” he said, nipping the sensitive skin.

She settled slightly at that, and Ro ran his hands up her torso with with deliberate slowness, palms skating effortlessly under her lacy bralette and tugging it off in a single, fluid gesture.

He glanced down at her and groaned.

“Fucking Christ.”

Her breasts were flawlessly round and dark enough to suggest she spend a decent amount of time tanning topless, her tight nipples framed by matching diamond studs. He ran a finger over the jewelry, laughing at her shudder of pleasure.

“Are you crazy, Galathynius? You’re a D1 athlete!”

She chuckled.

“I tape them up to play. Why, you don’t like?”

He glanced up to meet her gaze.

“I didn’t say that.”

The truth was they suited her: elegant femininity edged in wildness.

“You approve then.”

He reached down to tease her, brushing a knuckle against her left nipple until it pebbled.

“They’re gorgeous.”

Aelin preened a bit at that.

“Tits this nice deserved a little something extra,” she said with a smirk.

Rowan was inclined to agree.

“These real diamonds, princess?”

“They were a gift from Aedion.”

At this Rowan stiffened, unable to smother the discomfort the idea inspired. Aelin only laughed, catching his face in her hands and kissing him lightly on the lips.

“I’m playing with you, tonto. Obviously he and Galen don’t know about these or they’d hit the roof. Besides,” she said, pert nose wrinkling slightly. “We don’t share things like that with each other. We’re close but...not that close.”

Rowan couldn’t hold back a relieved laugh, which only made Aelin’s grin widen.

“You should have seen the look on your face, though.”

“You’re trouble,” he told her.

“You love it,” she shot back, leaning in so her breasts brushed his chest.

Yeah he fucking did.

Crushing her into another kiss, her massaged her breasts, palms scraping her nipples. When they’d grown hard from his machinations he bent to taste them, loving the feel of her fingers as they wound into his hair and tugged.

“Take off your clothes already,” she said, breathless. “I want to know if your dick is as big as it feels.”

He grabbed her wrist and guided it between his legs.

“See for yourself.”

Deft as a snake, she had a hand down the front of boxer briefs, stroking him twice with a firm grip.

He planted a hand on the wall beside her head, breathing through his nose as he bowed into her wicked touch.

“What are you thinking about?” She asked as she unbuckled his belt and pushed his chinos off his carved waist until they hung low on his hips.

“You.”

“What about me?”

He bent to kiss her deeply again. God, he wasn’t sure he’d ever been this turned on.

“About what you’d look like on your knees with my cock in your mouth.”

She gave a sensuous chuckle.

“Dream on, querido. ”

He only grinned in response.

“No one likes a liar, Galathynius.”

“What reason would I have to ever suck you off?”

“The same reason you’d let me tie you up: you want to know what it’s like to let someone else be in control.”

“I never said I wanted to be tied up,” she said, voice turning to a groan as he pushed her underwear aside to dip two fingers inside of her.

“You didn’t have to,” he said, holding up his fingers so they glistened in the moonlight pouring in from the open balcony doors. “You’re soaked.”

She didn’t respond, merely leaned forward to licked the offending digits clean in a way that told him that not only did she want to suck his dick, she was going to be excellent at it.

He hardened at the thought, even as he forced a calming breath. If this was his only chance with her, he intended to savor every second.

He wanted tears— actual tears—of pleasure from her. He wanted to hear her beg. And not just some breathy “ please, more ” bullshit, either. He wanted to her to plead—for him, for release, for anything and everything he was willing to give her.

He wanted all of it and more, but to have it, he needed to be patient with her. It meant going slow, and sending her off the edge several times before he ever slipped inside of her.

Gently collaring her throat, he pressed a soft kiss to her lips before easing her off the wall and into the waiting bedroom.

“You are so beautiful,” he told her.

She smirked, eyes flashing.

“Bet you say that to all the girls you fuck.”

“I’ve never fucked a woman as beautiful as you.”

It was out before he could stop it, and he had to fend off the the twinge of guilt it produced. Still, he couldn’t regret saying it, because it was true; Aelin was the most beautiful woman he’d ever met.

Aelin, seeming abashed by this declaration, responding by coaxing Rowan’s buttoned shirt open and over his shoulders. Chest to bare chest, her next kiss was soft and drugging.

“You’re...not ugly, either,” she said at last.

“Not ugly?” He repeated with a laugh.

“You’re...” she trailed off as he kissed her neck.

“I’m...?”

“Gorgeous,” she said finally. “But I think you already knew that.”

“Maybe, but it hits different from you.”

Aelin seemed pleased by that, and she rewarded him by dipping her hand into his unbuckled pants again and fisting him.

“I was also right; you’re enormous.”

Grabbing her wrist, he pinned it to the wall and put his hand between her legs instead.

“And I bet you’re tight,” he said, drawing lazy circles with his thumb that had her back arching.

“Are we going to fit?” She teased, but he could hear the concern underneath that she couldn’t quite hide.

The idea that some douchebag had pushed into her before she was totally ready—it made Rowan’s skin prickle in irritation.

He caught her jaw.

“After I’m done playing with you, Aelin, you’re going to be so wet that you’ll feel like my cock was made to fit inside you.”

She moaned.

“If you’re half as good as sex as you are dirty talk, I think this might be the best night of my life.”

Rowan was counting on it. What he hadn’t counted on was the fact it was shaping up to be one of the best nights of his as well. And not just because of the sex, though Rowan couldn’t deal with that right now.

“I bet you taste good too,” he said, grinding against her and living for her answering moan. “Don’t you?”

“I’ve never had any complaints,” she said, and he tried to ignore the twinge of jealousy at the thought of another guy’s mouth on her.

Her pussy was his, at least for tonight. He intended to make sure she never forgot how it felt to have him between her thighs.

Kneeling at her feet, he peeled her thong down her lean legs. He let his eyes drag up slowly, taking his time admiring the muscles in her quads before his gaze settled between her legs.

She was already wet, her thighs glistening with arousal. He imagined what they would look like dripping with his come instead. The idea had masculine satisfaction thrumming through him, even knowing it was a fantasy he couldn’t indulge. He wouldn’t put her in a vulnerable position by not wearing a condom.  Pressing a mockingly chaste kiss on her low belly, he rose to his feet.

“Get on the bed,” he said, guiding her hips towards the waiting mattress.

“Get naked first,” she countered, tracing the band of his Adonis belt before tugging him towards her by the waistband of his Calvin Klein boxer briefs.

He didn’t stop her as she skated her hands down the back to squeeze his ass before pushing them off his hips.

His dick was already rock hard, and it pressed between them. She leaned up to kiss him again before sinking down to sit on the bed. The movement bought her eye-level with his erection, and gripping him in a fist, she put her mouth on him.

He swore as she laved his length, cock twitching as she traced a ridge of vein with her  tongue. Threading a gentle hand into her hair, he took a step back, coaxing her off the bed and onto her knees. When she looked up at him, blue eyes overcome with want, he had to fight the urge to come right then.

Despite her earlier declarations, Aelin sucked him off like both of their lives depended on it, and Rowan could only hang on and enjoy the ride as her tongue worked miracles on his shaft and her hands found every pleasure point he craved.

He swore again as she massaged his stones before kneading the sensitive swath of skin behind them. As her touch grew more deliberate, he debated telling her she could push inside him before deciding it wasn’t exactly fodder for a one-night stand.

However, when her fingers trailed back to brush the tight ring of muscle, he couldn’t fight a groan.

“Yes?” She asked, keeping her touch light.

“Go ahead,” he said, breathless.

He didn’t think he’d never been so close to losing it as he was the moment she used her own wetness to coat her fingers before carefully teasing two inside of him.

His tattooed hand tightened in her hair, but he forced himself to otherwise remain still, to let her set the pace.

“Fuck, Aelin.”

Crooking her fingers to hit that perfect internal spot, she put her mouth on him again. Between her fingers and her tongue, he only lasted ten more strokes before he came hard .

Holy shit.

Rowan was no stranger to anything they’d just done, but he was fairly sure that was the best blowjob he’d ever had.

“As good as your imagined?” Aelin said with a smirk.

“Better,” Rowan said. “Way better. My turn.”

Picking her up, he tossed her on the bed before grabbing her ankle and dragging her towards him so her legs hung off the edge.

Wasting no time, he broke her legs apart and put his mouth right where he knew she needed him, sucking hard. However, he didn’t stay there for long, ignoring her attempts to manuever his mouth into position as he teased her.

“Rowan,” she choked. “You’re killing me.”

In answer he swirled his tongue around her bundle of nerves before alighting elsewhere.

“Rowan,” Aelin said.

He sucked on her this time, loving how she rocked her hips up to fuck his face. Still, he didn’t linger long enough for her release to find her.

“I’m going to kill—“

He glanced up at her, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to the crease of her hip as she watched him.

“Beg me, Aelin,” he told her. “Beg me and I’ll give you an orgasm to make you cry.”

He laced her once, and she bucked.

“I don’t beg,” she said, even as he felt her contract once against his tongue.

The idea was turning her on.

“You haven’t begged before,” he corrected. “It doesn’t mean you won’t for me.”

At this he slid a finger inside of her, finding the right spot and applying pressure.

“Oh god,” she breathed. “More.”

Rowan pulled the finger out in response.

Aelin paused, heaving slightly as she considered before breathing, “Please, Ro.”

“Please what?”

“Please, give me what I want. I’m...begging you.”

Rowan slid two fingers inside of her, grinning.

“Really, this is your begging? Pathetic.”

“Harder.”

“Harder?”

He increased his speed, knowing she was right on the edge of where she needed to be. Still, he didn’t cross that line.

“Fuck,” Aelin said, voice almost a whine. “Rowan, I’m right there—just make me come.”

“If I do, will you beg me for my cock next?”

“I will give you anything you want,” she said. “Just...” she exhaled again. “Please.”

He bowed his head between her legs again, pumping his fingers as he tongued the spot he knew would set her off.

Driven the brink by all his edging, her climax seemed to shudder through her, muscles in her stomach flexing as she contracted against his mouth. He was careful to keep his touch feather-light as the orgasm crested and ebbed, knowing her body was too sensitive to be properly played with yet.

“Oh god,” she breathed, body still trembling slightly. “I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm that strong before. What did you do to me, Whitethorn?”

He crawled up to meet her, hands sinking into the mattress on either side of her head before he kissed her.

“Showed you what you’ve been missing, apparently.”

She arched her hips up to meet his, the contact making him harden again.

“Aelin,” he breathed, using both palms to scrape her sweaty hair from her face.

“Kiss me,” she said softly, gaze so sincere he had to close his eyes to avoid being overcome.

He did as she asked, keeping his touch gentle in an effort to to convey what he couldn’t bear to voice out loud: that this was more than just meaningless sex.

“I want you inside of me,” she said.

He rotated his hips against hers, cock brushing against her in a way that made her cry out softly.

“I need to grab a condom,” he said into her ear. “Don’t move.”

“And what if I do?”

He bent to kiss her deeply.

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” she breathed.

Rowan smiled, rising from the bed to grab a condom from his wallet before crossing to the window. He deftly unknotted the silk tie which had been used to hold back the curtains and holding it up for her to see.

Aelin expelled a noise of pleasure so finely edged it was almost a whine. Slowly, deliberately, she raised her arms above her head in invitation, eyes hooded as she watched him approach.

Sliding over her, he slipped the length of silk around her wrists before synching it to the  headboard.

Aelin tugged I’m experimentation.

“Too tight?”

“No,” she said.

Rowan gently collared her throat as he bent to kiss her.

“Good girl.”

Rowan drew a finger down Aelin’s torso, circling her tight nipples before tracing her navel and venturing between her legs.

“I’m going to have to make this count,” he said, sliding two fingers into her again even as he held up the condom. “I only have one of these.”

“I have some in my suitcase,” she said. “Lucky for you, I think they’re magnums. Dream big, and all that.”

He grinned, making her laugh.

“Never hurts to be prepared,” she said.

“No it most certainly doesn’t,” he agreed, putting his mouth on her again.

She bucked off the bed and he used his hands to keep her hips pinned as she twisted against her restraints.

“If only I had a spreader bar,” he told her. “I would really have you at my mercy.”

“I’m at your mercy now,” she said. “Take me.”

That, Rowan could not resist.

Quickening the pace of his fingers, he concentrated on her clit until she shattered again. Only when she’d settled back on to the bed, legs quaking slightly, did he tear open the wrapper of the condom, sheathing himself with a practiced hand.

“You’re probably going to be extra tight from the orgasms,” he told her. “So I’m going to go slow at first.”

She nodded, and he kissed her again before grabbing his shaft and sliding a few inches into her.

“Tight” had perhaps been an understatement. The pressure of her was mind-numbing, spine-tingling bliss. Still, he forced himself to pause and take in her expression.

Her brows were synched, breath ragged. He bent to kiss the tightened corners of her eyes before brushing his lips to hers.

“Talk to me, gorgeous,” he breathed. “How are you doing?”

“You’re—big,” she said, voice still tense. “I’m just trying to adjust.”

“Relax,” he coached, petting a hand down the tense muscles in her stomach. “Breathe, Aelin.”

At this she let out a shuddering exhale, even mewing a little as he reached down to play with her.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” he said, working her with the pad of his thumb. “Let me in.”

With that the some of the tenseness in her body loosened, and she moaned. He pushed in farther, kissing her deeply until she was forced to take another calming exhale.

When he shifted her hips and pulled her the rest of the way onto his shaft, she melted. He couldn’t hold back his groan of pleasure as he sank in effortlessly to the hilt, his stones brushing her soft ass.

“Fuck,” she said. “Why does that feel so good?”

He rose onto his knees, tilting her hips up on the process. She groaned.

“Because I bet no one’s hit this spot with you before,” he said.

Rearing back slightly, he thrust into her with delicious intent.

She bit her lip.

“Yours is deep,” he said.

Her answering laugh was husky.

“Are you trying to suggest you’re the biggest dick I’ve ever had?”

He smirked, unable to deny the smug masculine satisfaction that slithered through him at the thought.

“You said it, not me.”

He pulled back and thrust into her a second time. At this she squirmed a little, eyes firmly shut again.

“Yes, Aelin?” He said, repeating the gesture a third time.

She wiggled, trying to get more friction.

“Yes,” she said. “Oh god, yes.”

With that he increased his pace, loving the obscene sound their bodies made as they came together. Christ, had it ever felt this good?

He rode her hard but tried to maintain a pace that wouldn’t cause her an unpleasant amount of friction. From her moans, he was doing a better than alright job.

Rowan drank her in as she writhed beneath him, her body covered in a glistening sheen of sweat, her small breasts bouncing with the force of his thrusts.

When he reached a hand between her legs to play with her again, she swore, tightening around him.

“I’m so close.”

“Say my name," he said, left hand wrapping around the headboard for better leverage as he drove into her with increased force. “I want to hear you say my name when you come, Aelin.”

She surged forward, tongue tangled with his in a desperate kiss.

"Ro," she breathed. “Rowan.”

Rowan had to fend off a strangled moan at the reverence in her voice.

When he'd made the demand, he'd imagined her screaming it the way other women had, like it was a triumph that needed to be heralded. But hearing it whispered, as if it were a secret meant only for him, had been so much more powerful.

He instantly knew why: because this was so much more than mindless sex.

He felt the exact moment she came apart around him, loving the pressure as she squeezed him in a vice. Deftly he untied her bound hands, allowing her to wrap her arms around his neck as he kissed her.

He couldn’t hold back the pleasured groan which escaped as he found his own climax, hips nestled to hers as he drove in deep a final time.

God, what he wouldn’t give to come inside this girl for real. It was a selfish thought, but one Ro couldn’t immediately shake. He didn’t often think about babies of his own, but something about Aelin Galathynius made him want to have a million.

He shook his head slightly, desperate to rid himself of the notion of having children with a woman he’d just met. He kissed her instead, using the feeling of her lips against him to ground him more fully into reality.

When he felt he’d mastered himself, he pulled back to meet Aelin’s eye, mildly horrified to find that hers were glassy. Despite his earlier declaration about wanting to have her in tears, actually seeing them in her eyes had his heart dropping out of his chest.

“Oh god, you’re crying,” he blurted, quickly pulling out of her and touching her cheek. “Aelin, why are you crying?”

At this she snorted, the sound halfway between a laugh and a sob.

“Because that so intense I almost don’t know what to do with myself,” she admitted. “And when I get overwhelmed I always end up crying.”

He frowned, brushing her petal-soft cheek again.

“Good overwhelmed or bad?”

“Good,” she said. “Definitely good. That was just so—“ she blew out a shaky inhale, another tear slipping from the corner of her eye. “I came so hard I think my brain just stalled for a second.”

He couldn’t help but grin, even as he gently brushed the moisture from her cheek.

“I don’t think I’ve ever broken someone’s brain before,” he said. “Should I take that as a compliment?”

She laughed, the sound easier this time.

“Don’t be annoying,” she said. “You know how good you are.”

“What can I say? You inspire greatness in me, Galathynius.”

He bent to gently kiss her, his finger drawing a an ever-tightening circle around one erect nipple. Her back arched slightly at his featherlight touch, goosebumps breaking out across her small breasts.

“You are so gorgeously responsive,” he told her, bending to tug the opposite nipple with his teeth. “It’s like your whole body is a hot spot. It makes it impossible to stop touching you. I could seriously play with you all night.”

“It’s not usually like this,” Aelin admitted after a beat, threading her hand into his hair. When she spoke again, her tone was softer, more candid. “Most the time I’m too in my head, and it makes it hard to get turned on enough to let go.”

“What made tonight different?” Rowan asked, brushing the hair out her face.

He was fairly sure he already knew, but he needed to hear her say it, to take ownership of the feeling.

“I feel safe with you,” she said. “I don’t know why—you’re basically still a stranger—but I do.”

Rowan smiled, kissing her more deeply this time.

“I told you that you’d let go for me,” he breathed against her lips. “How did it feel, gorgeous?”

“Incredible,” she said, shifting her hips in search of friction as he settled more fully on top of her again. “I didn’t want it to end.”

Deftly, Rowan peeled off the condom and threw it into the trash.

“Who said it had to?” He asked grabbing her hips and rotating so he was on his back, Aelin nestled in his lap. “That was just round one.”

In response, She reached for his shaft to begin getting him hard, but he caught her wrist instead.

“It’s a marathon, Galathynius, not sprint,” he said, flipping her hand in his so he could kiss her palm. “And your body’s not ready for me to be inside you again yet.”

Aelin seemed a bit flustered at that, which left Rowan feeling torn. On the one hand, he hating thinking he’d embarrassed her or made her uncomfortable. On the other, the idea that he has the ability to make swaggering, sensuous Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius bashful filled him with deep-seated satisfaction.

Seeming to read the intention in his gaze, she bent to kiss him, whispering, “you don’t have to.”

He pushed her back gently so he could look into her face.

“Don’t have to what?”

“Go down on me again. I know most guys don’t like to do it again once they’ve—“

“That’s amateur hour,” Rowan said, tone sharper than he’d meant it to be. “Whichever pin-headed prick told you that is a loser.”

She laughed, relaxing a little. At seeing this, Rowan settled more fully on his back, hands braced on her hips.

“Come here,” he said, voice rough with desire.

He was rewarded with a pretty blush.

“I’ve never...done it like that,” she admitted.

He smirked.

“Then I’m about to give you an important lesson in pleasure. Come here.”

Rising onto her knees, Aelin rose over Rowan until she was mere inches from his face.

“I feel like I’m going to suffocate you!” She said with a sheepish laugh.

“Then I’ll die the luckiest man on earth,” he said, gripping her ass. “Hold onto the headboard.”

She did, and he lifted his head just enough that the tip of his tongue brushed the most sensitive part of her.

Her whole body tightened in pleasure.

“Do that again,” she said, sounding more her confident self now.

“No,” he told her. “This position is about you being in control.  I don’t give you pleasure; you take it.”

When she still didn’t move, he added, “this should be no problem for an imperious little thing like you.”

He knew goading her would do the trick, and after a moment she relaxed her hips, body sinking down to meet his waiting mouth. He couldn’t stifle a groan as she rocked her hips against him in experimentation. Seeing Aelin in is position, vulnerable but in control, was hotter than her could have possibly imagined.

Rowan flicked his tongue against her and she swore.

“That feels good,” she breathed, rocking forward against his mouth again. “Really good.”

His hands on the back of her thighs, he urged her hips forward, grazing her with his teeth before sucking hard.

This proved to be her unleashing.

Using the headboard for leverage, she began swishing her lips in a rhythmic motion, panting softly through her teeth as she worked herself up to climax.

He kneaded the soft flesh of her backside while she rocked against him, trying not to imagine what it would be like to slide his cock into her tight little ass. He had no idea if she was into that sort of thing nor any desire to pressure her into finding out, but the way she rocked back into his hands—as if urging them to explore—was enough to make him curious.

Hands on her waist, he tilted her pelvis towards him slightly, waiting to see how she’d react. In response she scooted higher on his body, her knees practically touching to the headboard. In this new position, there was no part of her he couldn’t access, and when she leaned forward, the invitation was clear.

Using his hands to open her legs more fully for him, he brushed his mouth against an intimate spot that—judging by her deep moan—no one had even touched before. When he repeated the gesture and she didn’t tense or pull away, he split legs even wider and circled the tight ring of muscle at the back with his tongue.

“Fuck,” she said, voice devolving into a string of slurred Spanish. “Rowan.”

Rowan worked her in broader strokes, his free hand coming up to play with her clit. When he slipped a finger inside of her he could tell she was getting close. Not wanting to claim the victory of her orgasm with only his fingers, he pulled her hips down so his tongue could replace his hand.

Far bolder now that she’d been when they’d started, Aelin followed his lead. Her fingers twined in his hair as she rocked against him hard, and Rowan was happy enough to sit back and watch as she took her pleasure like he’d instructed.

Between the rimjob and the edging, Aelin’s orgasm—when it hit—seemed to last a blissful eternity. She was trembling slightly as she collapsed beside him, eyes still closed.

“That was the hottest thing I think I’ve ever seen,” he said.

He gently cupped between her legs, careful not to apply too much pressure when she was still so sensitive.

“You’re telling me that?” she said with a laugh. “I’ve done it that to other people, obviously, but I’ve never let anyone—“ she broke off with another laugh. “Apparently I’ve been missing out.”

Rowan smirked, if only to hide the twinging realization that after tonight, it would someone else making her feel good, not him.

“I hope I didn’t set an impossible standard,” he said dryly.

“Maybe not yet,” she said, eyes blazing with want. “But you’re well in your way, and the night is still young.”

She let her azure gaze snake down his body with exaggerated slowness. By the time it reached his cock, he was granite-hard.

“Where are the rest of the condoms?” he asked.

If he wasn’t inside of her in the next minute, he might actually lose his mind.

“Bathroom,” she said, rising to her feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Rowan didn’t have time for that. He rose from the bed to follow her into the lavish en-suite. Normally he might of gawked a little at the opulence—the marble countertops, the sunken tub—but his entire focus was on Aelin. The best he could do was shift the lens to the things in her periphery. Everything else was a blur.

She was just straightening—foil packet in hand—as he entered, and he didn’t even give her a chance speak before her grabbed her around the waist, spinning her so his chest was pressed into her back.

Taking the condom, he ripped open the package and slid it on with one hand while his other moved between her legs to ensure she was ready for him.

“How do you feel?” He asked. “Do you need me to—“

“Whitethorn, if I was any wetter I’d be Nile. Get inside me already.”

It was all the permission Rowan needed. Hand on her back, he coaxed her to bend, using his legs to push hers wider as he did. She yelped softly as her bare breasts made contact with the cold marble, and he ran a hand over the curve of her hip to settle her before sliding to the hilt in single stroke.

It felt better, even, than it had the first time. She clenched around the intrusion of him even as she moaned, and he only managed to wait a beat before grabbing her hips and setting a blistering pace.

He glanced in the mirror and their gazes caught in the reflection, her desire molten.

Wanting more, he coaxed her up until her torso lifted from the counter.

Yes, he thought with greedy satisfaction. This.

This was what he wanted. Her firm tits bouncing with each hard thrust, her hips rocking back and forth, and her eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

Gently collaring her throat with his hand, he whispered in her ear.

“Touch yourself for me.”

She did, canting her hips forward for increased friction as she moaned.

As she increased the speed with her hand, Rowan increased his, fucking her hard through her orgasm as she tightened around him.

She collapsed against the counter as he pulled her hips flush to his for one final thrust before coming undone.

She wobbled when he stepped back to pull off the condom, and he deftly caught her around the waist before she melted to the floor like a newborn fawn.

“Easy,” he said, coaxing her into his arms.

She laid her head on his shoulder.

“I think your dick has mystical powers,” she said. “Because that was insane.”

Rowan chuckled, carrying her to the bed and laying her down.

“There’s a Harry Potter joke in there somewhere,” he said, brushing some hair off her sweaty cheek as her eyelids drooped. “I’m just too lazy to find it.”

“Harry Potter references,” she said, already half-asleep. “Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?”

She was out before he could even respond, but he did anyway, lips to her temple as he whispered, “I wish I could.”

XX

Ro woke up at sunrise the next morning, Aelin still fast asleep beside him. Not quite in his arms, but still close enough that he could feel her warmth. Christ, she smelled incredible. Like lemon and coconut.

He propped his head on a chin, admiring the way the dawn light set her skin and hair to glowing. She looked like a fallen star.

Rowan’s heart ached a bit as he studied her, trying to memorize every detail, knowing that their time together was quickly running out. Originally, he’d only planned to stay the night, promising himself that as soon as the dark was gone, he would be, too.

In the light of day, he knew it wasn’t going to be that easy. Perhaps it was only asking for more trouble, but Rowan wanted to stay at least for the morning.

He could bring her coffee from that shop Cash loved; if Ro remembered correctly, it wasn’t far from here. He could go get it while she was still sleeping, and make her breakfast when she woke up.

He wouldn’t stay all day, he promised himself, just long enough that she knew she wasn’t some meaningless screw he’d fucked and then chucked. Surely she deserved that much, at least.

Unable to resist, he ran a hand down the silky mane of her hair, slightly tangled from their numerous romps the night before, before rising from the bed as quietly and creeping towards the bedroom door. He found his boxers briefs and shorts easily enough. He just needed to find his—

“Leaving so soon?”

He turned to find Aelin sitting up in the bed, that signature smirk painted on her pouty mouth. She hadn’t bothered to pull up the sheet to cover herself, and her breasts were fully visible, the studs in them winking in the crepuscular light pouring in from the window.

“Only to get some coffee,” he said, loving the way the tension which had limned her muscles disappeared. She’d been displeased with the idea of him leaving, even if she hadn’t wanted to show it.

Her next smile was far easier.

“I have coffee here,” she said.

“Not like this you don’t,” he said with a grin. “There is no coffee on earth better than the beans for the Kona Mountains.”

Her expression grew feline.

“You dare say such things to a Cuban?” She said. “If Galen were here, he’d have you tarred and feathered.”

Rowan recalled the coffee he’d had on a trip to Havana during the short period travel when from the US to Cuba had been permitted. She wasn’t wrong; it had been fucking delicious. Still, he wasn’t going to give up that easy.

“That’s more like espresso; not the same as having a full mug with you while you watch the sun rise.”

“The sun’s already risen,” Aelin said with a smile. “And coffee should be strong and decadent, and that’s what a cortadito is. You can keep your vat of hot bean water; a little is all you need. Just enough to whet the appetite.”

Rowan couldn’t help but grin.

“Awfully set in your ways for a person who’s so young.”

“I’m only five years younger than you,” Aelin pointed out. “And I didn’t hear any complaints from you last night.”

“That’s because I have none,” Rowan admitted. “You’re—“

He broke off, not wanting to embarass himself with verbose declarations now that they were both stone sober.

“I’m—“ Aelin prompted, standing from the bed. She was still naked as they day she was born, and it was an effort not to admire her.

“You know what you are,” Rowan said.

“I do,” Aelin agreed, slinking forward and draping her arms over Rowan’s shoulders. “But it hits different coming from you.”

It was the same thing he’d told her the night before, and he decided to indulge her the way she had him.

“You’re perfect,” he said, his hand slipping around her bare waist to tug her into him.

He kissed her softly, and he could feel her answering smile against his lips.

“Yes, I am,” she said, and he couldn’t help it.

He laughed, lifting her off her feet and heading towards the bed with her still in his arms. When he was close enough he tossed her onto the wrinkled nest of sheets and pillows before crawling over her.

“What am I going to do with you, Galathynius?”

She laughed as he playfully nuzzled her neck.

“Feed me? I’m starving after your thorough ravishing last night.”

“I think I can do that,” he said, bending to kiss her.

Still, he couldn’t bring himself to get up right away. Instead he rolled onto his side so he was facing her, trying not to preen as she traced a whorl of his tattoo.

“We never talked about these last night,” she said, her featherlight touch making goosebumps appear on his skin.   “They’re...Hawaiian?”

“Māori,” Rowan said. “I grew up on Maui, but my family is originally from farming town near Auckland.”

Aelin’s eyes glittered with interest.

“Have you even been there?”

“To New Zealand?” Rowan shrugged. “We used to go every few years while my grandparents were still alive. At the time it seemed boring. Now I’m glad we got the opportunity.”

Aelin nodded, still tracing his tattoos. She’d moved from his shoulder to his chest, fingers trailing closer and closer to his heart. To—

“And this one?” Aelin said. “It doesn’t look Māori.”

Rowan’s throat ached a bit as she ran the tips of her fingers over the letters at the very center of the massive design, directly above his heart.

Λυρία

“It’s Greek,” he explained.

She glanced up at him, gaze full of emotion as she said quietly, “It looks like a name.”

He nodded, throat growing tight.

“Lyria.”

Aelin didn’t push for clarification, but after a beat Rowan found himself speaking anyway.

“She’s my—she was my—“

When he broke off, Aelin only nodded.

“What happened?”

“Non-Hodgkins lymphoma. It was stage four by the time they caught it. She was gone within six months of her diagnosis.”

Aelin reached up to gently cup Rowan’s cheek.

“I’m so sorry, Rowan.”

He’d had people apologize to him a thousand times for Lyria’s untimely death, but something in Aelin’s tone was different. It was sympathetic but also...understanding, somehow.

“Have you ever lost someone you thought would be in your life forever?”

Aelin considered this before flipping her wrist and extending  it. There, inked in neat script, were three small letters Rowan hadn’t noticed before.

S-a-m

“We were high school sweethearts and went to UT together,” she explained. “My sophomore year we lived in an apartment together in West Campus, but we’d started to talk about moving after there had been a series of unsolved rapes in the neighborhood. We were on the first floor and Sam was worried about me being there when he was on the road for baseball season. The night I finally agreed we could start looking for another place, there was a break-in.”

She paused, brows furrowed as she continued to study the tattoo.

“The guy had a gun, and told Sam that if he cooperated it would be over quickly and neither of us would get hurt. But Sam refused, and he fought the guy off while I called the cops. He got shot while they were struggling with the gun, and by the time the paramedics got there it was too late.”

“Aelin, I...” Rowan paused, not wanting to saying the wrong thing. “That must have been awful. I’m so sorry.”

Aelin nodded, rubbing the tattoo with her thumb.

“Me too,” she said. “I miss him a lot.”

That, Rowan certainly understood. There wasn’t a day that went by that Rowan didn’t miss Lyria.

“Did they ever catch the perp?”

“Yeah, the guy’s gloves came off in the struggle and he ended up leaving prints. Cairn Macgory. Turned out he was a law student, top honors, no criminal record. The only reason they had his fingerprints was because of his application to take the bar. He was going to be a family law attorney. He already had a job lined up after school.”

“I hope he rots in hell,” Rowan said honestly, hating the haunted look that had crept into Aelin’s eyes.

“He’s honestly just lucky the cops got to him first,” she said. “My dad was ready to have him black-bagged back to Cuba and cut into little pieces.”

“I’m sort of sorry he didn’t,” Rowan admitted, and this—unexpectedly—made Aelin laugh.

“Aren’t you a cop? I thought you’d be all gung-ho for law and order.”

“Even cops can want revenge.”

Some of Aelin’s mirth faded at this, and she looked up to study him. It was an odd feeling to be so exposed, but Rowan found he didn’t mind it coming from Aelin. After a moment she relented, leaning over to rest her head on his shoulder.

“Sorry, that was sort of heavy for a one-night stand.”

Rowan strung an arm around her sturdy shoulders as he ignored the twinge in his gut.

A one-night stand.

He’d never stayed the morning with his previous one-night stands, and he’d certainly never told any of them about Lyria, so how could that be what this was?

Before he could damn the consequences and ask Aelin about it, she slipped from his embrace, grinning at him over a shoulder.

“Can I make you a cortadito, or have I scared you off?”

He grabbed her hand to pull her back.

“I’ll have coffee,” he told her rising onto his knees and she sank back onto the bed half-way. “And after that I’ll take you to breakfast.”

“You’re friends won’t be missing you?

Rowan traced her hipbones with this thumbs, everything he’d done to her the previous evening flooding back.

“They’re adults,” he said breezily, leaning forward to kiss the soft skin between her breasts. “They’ll be fine.”

Aelin drove a hand into his hair, her grip light and playful.

“You phones been blowing up for 20 minutes,” she pointed out.

“That’s just Cash being nosy.”

“He’s not dating anyone?”

“Not that I know of,” Rowan admitted setting back onto the bed and tugging her casually into his lap. “But Cash has always been full of secrets; it’s part of his charm.”

“What about the other two?” She asked. “The gorgeous one and the grouch.”

“Fenrys is more a serial dater,” Rowan said. “Mostly because his taste in men is garbage. He always falls for the haole fuckboys  then cries when they turn out to be assholes.”

“Haole?” Aelin said.

“Non-Polynesians, technically,” Rowan explained. “But most of the time Hawaiians just use it to mean—“

“Gringos,” Aelin said, grinning. “They do love to make trouble, don’t they?”

Rowan had to laugh at this.

“Fen would certainly say so.”

Aelin nodded, laughing as well.

“So that just leaves—”

“Lorcan,” Rowan said. “His bark is worse than his bite.”

“Aedion said he played him in Volleyfest last year in Miami. Why didn’t y’all compete in the men’s division together?”

Rowan rubbed the back of his neck.

“It’s...complicated.”

“I assume this has to do with your ex?”

“She invited me to play in with her. Lor wasn’t even supposed to be here this weekend. He decided to surprise me last minute.”

“So there is a gooey center underneath the scowl!” Aelin said.

“To be honest, I think Lor is probably the most sensitive and caring of all four of us. He just—isn’t good at emoting. He’s also a fastidious believer in ‘boys night’, though I think that’s just because he’s not good at chatting women up.”

“Bet he wasn’t too thrilled with me last night then, huh?”

“He’ll get over it. And he still pulls like crazy, even with his terrible flirting. Usually women take one look at him and decide they don’t even care if he can talk at all.”

Aelin laughed.

“I figured as much,” she said, rising from the bed again. “I have a lot of follow-up questions, but I need a shower before we go. Care to join me?”

She was already halfway to the open bathroom door when Rowan found his feet again, and wasting no time, he quickly swept her up in his arms and carried her the rest of the way.

After they spent forty-fives minutes fooling around in the shower and another hour having sex against nearly every available surface in the suite, breakfast—inevitably—turned to lunch.

After lunch, they’d joined a pick-up “king of the beach” doubles tournament some of the previous day’s competitors had set up. They’d made such a good team that it was nearly evening by the time they lost a match and were finally bumped off the champion court.

Starving from the exertion, they’d gone back to the suite to shower before leaving again to go to dinner. Dinner had turned into cocktails on the beach, which had turned into beers  drinks at Bar 35 then tequila shots at Smith & Kings. The evening that followed was a blur of pleasure, as was the following morning, which they spend in bed together, naked and sweaty.

At every turn Rowan told himself he needed to leave, need to start distancing himself from Aelin so he could start trying to forget her. However, he’d known from the start that it had been a fools errand.

There was no forgetting a girl like Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius. Her vivacity, her humor, her raw sexual charisma—Rowan had never met anyone like her, and he doubted he ever would again.

So how the fuck was he supposed to just let her go? It was a thought that plagued him all the way to the airport on the afternoon Aelin was due to fly back to the mainland. He’d agreed to accompany her for a last drink before her flight departed, wanting to wring every last second he could out of the weekend.

It was—he knew—only delaying the inevitable by continually putting off their goodbyes, but Ro couldn’t help it. Aelin was like the sun—vibrant and essential—and Rowan had found himself in her orbit.

Harsh realities aside, it was a painfully lovely place to be.

Ro definitely felt a shift in the vibe as he paid their tab and they headed towards the security gate. Things had gone from easy and playful to quiet and subdued, Aelin’s usual flair dimming as she continually adjusted the bag on her shoulder.

Rowan searched and searched for the words he would say to her when they were finally forced to part. They’d never even exchanged numbers; perhaps he could ask for hers and offer to call her if he was ever in Austin?

It seems so stilted and formal after everything they’d shared this weekend. He’d been inside of her, for Christ’s sake. In fact, they’d had so much sex that they’d had to buy more condoms. And she’d fallen asleep in his arms last night, and stayed there until they’d woken up this morning. That was worth more than some vague promise to “look her up” if he even came to Texas.

Still, Ro was burning daylight and he knew it. The security gate was visible now, and though they’d both seemed to slow their pace in an effort to delay the inevitable, it was approaching just the same. Finally they reached the short queue where agents were checking boarding passes and travelers were taking off their shoes and belts.

Aelin was busy on her phone as they slowed to a stop, almost as if she were avoiding looking at him.

“My cousins are already at the gate,” she said by way of explanation. “They said boarding is starting in twenty minutes.”

Rowan glanced at the security line then his watch.

“You’ve got time; things seem to be moving pretty fast.”

Aelin looked over at the line as well. Finally she dragged her azure eyes back to him, the sheer force of her gaze enough to stun him stupid. She paused, as if waiting for him to speak. He had nothing, though.

“Well,” she said finally, a small, tense smile playing around her lips.  “I would offer to shake your hand and say ‘it was nice to meet you’, but given the fact we’ve seen each other naked, I think I’ll spare us both the indignity.”

Rowan forced a laugh, even as a pit began forming in his stomach. Shit, should he give her a hug, offer to give her—

“Goodbye, Rowan,” she said, leaning up to brush a kiss just to the right of his mouth. “It’s been—“ she clearly her throat, glancing away for a second. “I had an amazing weekend.”

“Congratulations again,” he found himself saying. “For making the AVP tour. You deserve it.”

Jesus Fucking Christ, was that really the best he could do? Maybe Fen was right, and he was destined to die alone.

Aelin’s grin didn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Like I said, I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Happy to help,” he forced out. “Have a safe flight, Aelin.”

She smiled, the solemnity in her eyes now limning her face as well.

“I put my number in your phone,” she said, beginning to walk backwards towards the TSA podium. “Call me if you’re ever in Austin.”

With that she turned, and Rowan’s heart was suddenly in his throat, beating two hundred times a minute.

His mind whirred with all the reasons he had to simply let her leave—she still in college, they lived thousands of miles apart, he was a cop in Vice Squad and she was a fucking billionaire—a perceived conflict of interest even if it wasn’t a real one. There was no way it could ever work. It was hopeless, fraught with problems, doomed to fail—

He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears as he continued to spiral, thoughts growing so jumbled that he could hardly make sense of them anymore. Then a single, cogent thread emerged through the cacaphony and chaos, spooling him back to sanity.

A voice.

“Anóitos,” it teased, the tone soft and airy. “What are you doing? Don’t just stand there!”

Fuck , he missed that voice.

It had been three years since he’d lost Lyria. Three years since he’d heard her laugh, or sing, or speak Greek.

Three long, terrible years since he’d heard her speak at all.

But even after all this time, her voice was crystal clear in his head. He often felt it was her absence—more than her memory—that he’d been left with when she’d died. In that moment, though, it almost felt as if Lyria were standing beside him.

“Go, Ro. I’ll be here.”

Rowan felt a warmth tingle through him, and as he blinked back to reality, Lyria’s voice seemed to fade. But where he’d been buzzing with doubt a moment before, Rowan felt himself suddenly brimming with clarity.

If there was anything he’d learned from Lyria’s sickness, it was that life was simply too short to waste.

Lyria had died with her would-be engagement ring still in tucked away in Ro’s dresser drawer. He hated himself for the cowardice, but when she got sick he couldn’t bring herself to ask her to marry him. He’d wanted to believe that if he put off giving her the ring it might somehow serve as a talisman to keep her from leaving him. It hadn’t though, and instead she’d died never getting to be his wife.

It was a mistake he couldn’t afford to make a second time. It was improbable that he and Aelin would get married, but he felt he owed them both the opportunity to find out.

His mind was made up; fuck, he was really doing this.

“Aelin!”

She turned, watching with bemusement as he jogged toward her.

“What—“ she began, but he cut her off.

“I don’t want this to be over,” he blurted.

Aelin sagged a bit, a genuine smile splitting her face.

“Oh thank God,” she said.

Setting down her bag, she started towards him and they met halfway. Rowan cradled her face in his hands and he bent to kiss her. She fisted the fabric of his T-shirt at the hips as the kiss intensified.

“So what does this mean?” Aelin said, slightly breathless as she pulled away. “I’ve never done this before.”

Rare for her to admit she wasn’t perfect at something.

“We’ll have to figure it out as we go,” Rowan said. “My detective’s exam is in two weeks, and then I get a week off. I can come to Austin then?”

She nodded.

“Are we...” Aelin paused, biting her lip. “I mean, do you want to be...”

“Be what?”

“Exclusive?”

“Yes!”

It was out before he could stop it, so he quickly amended, “but only if you—“

“Yes,” she said, smile easier now. “I want that.”

“And are we...using labels?”

She smirked.

“Three days in and you’re already trying to wife me up?”

Now it was Rowan’s turn to flush.

“Okay, no labels—“

“I didn’t say that,” Aelin said quickly. “I just don’t want to jinx a good thing by moving too fast. What if you get back to LA and realize you accidentally got a girlfriend you don’t want? You did drink a lot of tequila this weekend.”

“Never,” he said gently, taking her cheeks in his hands. “Doubt that I want you, Aelin Ashryvver-Galathynius. And I’m fine to wait, if that’s what you want.”

“But...”

He felt his lips tugging again.

“But it’s doesn’t feel soon, not to me.”

“So....labels?” she said.

“Labels,” he agreed.

She grinned, kissing him again.

“In that case, your girlfriend has to go or she’s going to miss her flight and turn into your live-in girlfriend.”

“Honestly, your boyfriend wouldn’t mind.”

Aelin scrunched her nose, even as she laughed a bit.

“We agree the third person thing is creepy, right?”

“Yes, thank you God,” Rowan said, laughing with her.

“Dame un beso,” Aelin said, grabbing the collar of his shirt in an effort to tug his lips closer to hers. “Or I really am going to miss this flight.”

Knowing his time was short, Rowan made the kiss count, teasing Aelin with his lips and tongue until she was slightly breathless.

“See you in three weeks,” he said, pulling away.

He set the bag Aelin had abandoned on her shoulder and kissed her quickly again.

“And text me when you get on the plane so I know you’ve made it.”

She grinned, kissing him a final time before jogging off towards security once again.

“Oh and just fair warning,” she said, spinning on a heel to grin at him as she joined the short line. “My cousins are not going to like this. Might want to sleep with one eye open for a while.”

“You tell me this now?”

“Te veo pronto, querido,” she said in response, kissing her hand in farewell before showing the TSA agent her boarding pass and disappearing into the concourse.

He waited several minutes before pulling out his phone to text her. As he did, his phone chirped to signal an incoming text.

Did I mention I also stole your number and put it in my phone? 😈 💋

Troublemaker, he wrote back. Did you make it?

Yes. Wish you were here to join the Mile High Club with me.

Before Rowan could even formulate a response to that, his phone chimed again, this time from a number he didn’t know.

This is Aedion Ashryvver, it said. Treat her right or I’ll break both your kneecaps.

His phone went off a third time, the new text also from an unknown number.

Not just your kneecaps, either.

Galen Ashryvver, if Ro had to guess.

Ignoring Aelin’s cousins, he replied to her instead, saying simply, Seems like good news travels fast

The grey ellipsis pulsed for a moment as Aelin typed.

Aedion said it was their price for letting us stay in the suite alone all weekend. Taking off now. Talk to you soon ✌️ ✈️

Then it was worth it, Rowan sent back. Have a safe flight. Call me when you get stateside.

Aelin sent back a heart, and Rowan had to fight down an annoyingly girlish fluttering in his stomach as he dialed a new number and put the phone to his ear.

It only rang twice before the line clicked.

“He lives!” Cash said in greeting. “Welcome back from the island  of puss—“

“Very funny,” Rowan interjected. “Where are you?”

“Hideaway. Where are you, honeymoon chapel in Vegas?”

Rowan rolled his eyes.

“Ha-ha.”

Cash scoffed.

“Ha-ha, that’s all I get? You’ve been gone for two days, brother! I want details.”

“I’ll tell you everything when I get there.”

“Just give me a quick teaser: do you have a girlfriend now?”

Rowan growled, making Cash laugh.

“I told you!” He said to someone on his end, presumably Lor or Fen.

“You’re seriously dating her?” Lor demanded a second later. “Like full-blown ‘exclusively-fucking, using-labels’ dating her?”

“Full-blown.”

“I KNEW IT!” Cash called, just as Lor growled, “fuck me, man.”

“You owe me a drink,” Lorcan told Rowan. “I just lost 200 bucks because of you.”

“I’ll buy you a shot of house tequila,” Rowan said, unable to keep in a smile. “Final offer.”

“Hurry up,” was Lorcan’s only response. “Before Kahukore explodes from the anticipation.”

“Getting my popcorn as we speak!” Cash called from the background, and with that Rowan hung up.

A short Uber ride later, Rowan strolled into the Hideaway Inn, his friends wolf-whistling as he approached.

Cash was on his feet first, grabbing Rowan by the shoulders an inspecting him head-to-toe.

“What are you doing?” Rowan said, playfully pushing out of Cash’s grip.

“Just taking you in,” Cash said with a disarming smile. “It feels like it’s been an age since we last saw you!”

Rowan rolled his eyes, and Fen added, “Pretty dark circles you’ve got there, lover boy. Galathynius keep you up all night?”

“I am not answering that,” Rowan said. “Or any questions about what she’s like in bed.”

“Why?” Cash cooed. “Because she’s your girlfriend?”

“You’re both clowns,” Rowan said.

“You’re the one dating a teenager,” Lor said. “So who’s the clown now?”

“She’s 21,” Rowan said. “And green isn’t a good color on your, Salvaterre, so just relax.”

Lorcan smirked.

“Jealous? Of you dating a Amazonian she-devil? I don’t think so.”

“That is exactly what a jealous person would say,” Fen pointed out. “Chin up, Lor, your time will come.”

Lorcan only snarled in response.

“What do we think Salvaterre’s  eventual lady love going to be like?” Cash chimed in. “Betting line’s officially open, gents.”

“Tiny,” Rowan and Fen both said at the same time.

“Fifty bucks says he ends up marrying a girl under 5’4,” Fen added.

“Grow up,” Lor said with an eye roll, though Ro had known him long enough to tell he wasn’t actually bothered by the conversation.

“Make me,” Fen said.

Lor jerked his head the pool table in the back corner.

“I beat you, you owe me fifty bucks and you shut your cakehole.”

“And if I win?” Fen said.

“You won’t, so it doesn’t matter. Let’s do this.”

Lor shot Rowan a quick, conspiratorial nod, and Ro realized Lor had done it on purpose, to give Rowan and Cash a chance to talk.

It was one of the things that Ro loved about Lorcan Salvaterre. He was perceptive in seeing what people needed, and not jealous or petty. Somehow, he’d seemed to sense Rowan’s need to talk to Cash alone, even if Ro himself hadn’t realized it until just now.

He gave Lor a grateful smile, and Lor turned to clap Fen on the back, leading him towards the billiards table in the back.

“So,” Cash said, flagging the bartender down and ordered two beers and two shots of whiskey. “Tell me everything.”

He clicked his glass to Rowan’s in salute and they both tipped the shots back. Rowan winced a bit at the taste before running a hand through his hair, trying to collect his thoughts.

He ran Cash quickly through the weekend’s events, skipping over the more X-rated content and ending with his and Aelin’s agreement at the airport.

“Damn,” Cash said when Rowan had finished. “Are you sure this girl isn’t a witch? Because she has you under a spell.”

Rowan laughed.

“She’s—” he began, breaking off with a sheepish laugh. “I really like her, man.”

“You’re smitten,” Cash said with a grin. “Look at you!”

Rowan opened his mouth to deny it before shrugging.

“Being with her feels different somehow. It isn’t just that she’s gorgeous or funny or smart, even though she’s all of those things. It’s more than that.”

Cash considered this, but he didn’t tease the way Ro feared he might. Instead he simply asked, “what of you mean?”

Rowan blew out a breath.

“There’s just something about her that’s almost... familiar . Like I’ve been looking for her my whole life, even without knowing it. I know that sounds crazy, but...”

Rowan shrugged again, tracing the rim of his glass.

“She’s just special.”

Cash’s smiled, a softer thing than his fiendish grin from before.

“I’ve never seen you like this, brother.” He paused, his expression growing more reverent as he added in a softer voice, “Not in a long time, at least.”

They were quiet a moment as they both silently recalled the memories that hung unspoken between them. Cash had been the first important person in his life that Rowan had introduced Lyria to, and over the years, Cash was the one who’d come to know Lyria the best; he’d been her friend in his own right.

He couldn’t see it at the time, but when Ro finally emerged from his own grief over Lyria’s death, it was realize that Cash had been grieving as well; he’d simply put his aside to focus on helping Rowan heal instead. 

It was hard to describe what that sacrifice had meant to Ro; the nice thing about a friendship as deep as theirs was that Rowan didn’t have to explain his gratitude for Cash to understand it. It was implicit in every conversation they ever had about Lyria, even this one.

“You want to know the weirdest part?” Rowan said finally. “When I was watching Aelin walk away, it felt like, I don’t know, like Lyria was there with me. Like she was telling me ‘go get her’.”

Cash smiled, his expression one of admiration tinged in sadness.

“She wanted you to be happy, Ro.”

Rowan nodded, throat tight as he looked into his glass.

“I still miss her, every day. Part of me worries that if things with Aelin ever got serious, I might start missing her less.”

Cash’s answering shrug was sympathetic.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t want to forget her,” Rowan said, marveling that he could admit that fear out loud.

“You won’t,” Cash assured him. “Ever. But you’re allowed to move on, brother; that’s what she wanted for you.”

There was something in his tone, an assurity and a promise, that had Rowan’s mouth going dry. He glanced up to meet Cash’s gaze.

“She told you that?”

Cash nodded once.

“The last time I saw her. She made me promise to look out for you, and to make sure you ended up with the right girl. And honestly?” He said, a smile beginning to grow on his face. “I think you might have just met her. I can’t let you mess that up by overthinking things, for Lyria’s sake as much for your and Aelin’s.”

Rowan felt his lips tugging up.

“You’re going to like her,” he said, and Cash grinned.

“Latin girl who can kick your ass in sports? I love her already.”

Rowan laughed.

“I’m going to Austin after my exam, but she’s planning on coming to LA sometime after that. If you’re free, you could fly out, I have airline miles—“

“I’d love to,” Cash interjected, clapping Ro in the back. “But I’m going to be out of commission for the next few months. I promise I’ll meet her properly soon, though. She seems cool as hell.”

Not to be put off by the diversion regarding Aelin, Rowan frowned, narrowing his eyes as he scrutinized his friend’s expression. Cash’s answering smile was cryptic and slightly wild. It was then Ro remembered what Cash had told him when he’d first gotten into town days ago.

“Fuck,” he said, running a hand through his silver hair. “I feel like such a dick, you said you had news. I totally forgot, I’m sorry.”

Cash laughed, the sound easy and unburdened.

“You just met the women you’re probably going to marry. I’ll give you a pass.”

Rowan thought to object to the notion he was going to marry Aelin after only three days together, but something told him not to.

“Well tell me now,” Rowan said instead.

His friend’s cryptic smile returned, mischief sparkling in his hazel eyes.

“The only thing worse than having too many secrets,” Cash always said. “Is having none at all.”

Ro had a feeling Cash was about to drop a big one on him right now.

“I’m moving to London.”

“Wait?” Rowan demanded. “Seriously?”

Cash grinned.

“Seriously.”

“Just for a change of pace?”

“Partly,” Cash said with a shrug. “But mostly to be a Master Sommelier.”

Now that, Rowan had not expected. He struggled to pick his jaw off the floor enough to speak.

“Like a wine expert?” He said, stunned. “I thought you didn’t like wine! You always ripped on your uncle for opening Merchant of Vino!”

Cash laughed.

“That’s because it’s a stupid name and Dev’s a hapless businessman.“

Rowan still couldn’t fully master his shock, though it was quickly being subsumed by an overwhelming pride.

“This is amazing, man,” he said, clasping Cash’s shoulder. “When did you decide to do this?”

Cash’s smile had grown slightly sheepish.

“When I first sat for the Level One Sommelier exam three years ago?”

“Three years?” Rowan repeated. “You’ve been sitting on this for three fucking years? Why didn’t you say anything? Every time I asked about your job you brushed me off!”

Cash rubbed the back of his neck.

“I didn’t want to tell you in case it—didn’t pan out.”

“Seems like it’s panning out just fine!” Rowan said with a laugh.

“It’s going alright,” Cash agreed with a laugh. “Considering I passed the theory portion of the Master Sommelier exam. I just have to complete the tasting and I’ll be one of 229 Masters Somms in the world.”

“Jesus Christ,” Rowan blurted. “That’s incredible. How does London fit into all this?”

“If I said the name Sadeghi, would that mean anything to you?”

“Persian billionaires or something?”

Cash nodded.

“The old man is from originally from Tehran, but the family has been in England for ages; they’re real estate royalty in the UK. Sadeghi put his son in charge opening a new hotel and restaurant in London, and I’m going to be the wine manager. Make the lists, relationship build with vineyards, that kind of thing. They’ve already hired a Michelin Star chef from Marrakech, so it’s...a pretty big deal. It’s also a good way to for me to grow my network while I study for the exam. I don’t want to be stuck in the restaurant business forever.”

“Cash,” Rowan said, grinning. “That’s amazing.”

Cash smiled.

“Maybe you and Aelin can come visit once I get settled,” Cash said in deflection, clearly at his limit for discussing himself. “You know, Aelin your girlfriend.”

Rowan had to laugh.

He had a girlfriend.

And—Jesus Christ—Cash was moving to England. It was almost too much good news for a single day.

“I’m happy for you,” he told his friend, giving his shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “And you deserve this. You’re going to crush it”

“I hope so,” Cash said. “The pass rate for the tasting portion of the exam is 32%.”

“You’re the smartest person I know,” Rowan said. “So that number means nothing.”

Cash grinned.

“You flirting with me, Whitethorn?”

“If you’re going to be friends with billionaires, you need to learn how to start taking compliments,” Rowan said with a chuckle.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Cash said, and Rowan could see the unsaid words shining in his friend’s hazel eyes. “Another drink?”

Cash turned to slip off the stool he’d been perched on, by Rowan caught his arm.

“Cash.”

Cash turned back, expression somewhat bemused. Rowan felt a lump beginning to form in his throat, but he pushed on regardless.

“It’ll be you, you know that right?”

“Be me?” Cash repeated, confused.

“When I get married—whoever I get married to—you’ll be my best man. I couldn’t have it any other way.”

Cash smiled, eyes sparkling. He considered this for a moment before pulling Rowan into a hug, one which Rowan gratefully accepted.

“Love you, brother.”

There were very few people Rowan considered worthy of this type of familial affection, but Cash was certainly one of them.

“I’m not drunk enough for this kind of thing,” Cash said, pulling away. “I’m going to get us another drink.”

Rowan’s phone buzzed with an incoming call just as Cash was sauntering away. He was surprised to find it was Aelin, and concern sluiced through him as he answered the call.

Before he could ask if she was okay, Aelin said, “Stupid flight attendant has been holding out on me. She waited until just now to tell me I could make calls on WiFi.”

Rowan felt amusement tugging at his lips.

“Should I be concerned that you’re calling from altitude? Nothing’s wrong, is there?”

Rowan could practically hear Aelin’s grin through the phone.

“No,” she said breezily “But I realized I never told you about the Cinnabon I had on my way to the gate. I figured I should call and tell you now lest I forget.”

“Oh yeah?” Rowan said.

He couldn’t help it; he was all-out smiling now.

“It was life-changing,” Aelin said.

Rowan glanced up to find Cash joining Fen and Lor at the pool table with a conspiratorial wink. When he mouthed ‘sorry’ and made to rise, Cash waved him off with a smile.

“In that case,” Rowan said, settling back on his stool. “Tell me everything.”

THE END

If you liked this story and want more Rowaelin, check out my Nessian fic In Vino Veritas, set in the same modern au-verse about four years later. If you want a sneak peak at how Lorcan’s romance check out the teaser for F*cking Lawyers, set within the In Vino timeline. ♥️ 

TAGLIST:  @tswaney17 @katexrenee @mightymorphingayagenda @nalgenewhore @superspiritfestival @mis-lil-red @pilesofriles @whitewashedasiangiril @http-itsrebecca @starkovsnesta @thebitchupstairs @sometimesimthatbitch @islareads @faerie-queen-fireheart @queen-of-glass @sleeping-and-books @enpointe10 @justgiu12 @thesurielships @keshavomit @stardelia @awesomelena555 @alyx801 @carbconnoisseur @ladywitchling @thewayshedreamed @annedub @cityofchelsea16 @spyofthenightcourt @empress-ofbloodshed @morrigays @theminorfallandthemajorlift @belamoonbeam @moonstoneriver77 @wesupremeginger @scrawlandspirits @garnet-29 @b00kworm @cursebreaker29 @jesstargaryenqueen @feyrethedarklady @officialasianbitch @cridhe-teine @sassyhobbits @musicmaam @januarystears @tottenhamboys20 @shyvioletcat @ifinallygavein @maybekindasortaace

[sunassweetie]

Already Gone.

Pairing: Suna x Osamu (Osasuna)

Word Count: 5.4k 

Genre: Pain haha :):

Disclaimer: Underage Smoking don't @ me 

Warning: I wrote this after I read the galaxy is endless. But also like major trigger warnings for a lot of various things, just know I didn't hold back. 

When Osamu was younger, he absolutely, and indefinitely, hated the idea of holding onto nothing. The idea that a person alone could hold themselves upright, and power through life on their own. Maybe it was because he had been surrounded by the welcoming arms of his family his entire life, hell the man shared a womb with his twin. There was never a time where Osamu had felt alone, and he couldn’t understand the want to ignore those who held their hands out to help. He couldn’t fathom not having a support system, or someone to help him get back up when he fell off the tracks. 

There was always someone there. Until of course there wasn’t, and only then did Osamu realize what he had meant when he said, “The world is unforgiving, you’ll always be alone even when you’re surrounded by millions of people.” 

-:-

Osamu met Suna in his first year at Inarizaki, shuffling into the lowest class, his twin in tow next to him as they moved down the corridor. He could hear people whisper, even through the speakers of his earbuds, unsure of whether or not he liked the attention him and Atsumu had been receiving the moment they stepped foot onto the school grounds. 

Are those the miya twins? 

They’re so attractive! 

I want to ask Osamu out! 

Do you think they are going to try out for the volleyball team? 

Duh, just look at them. 

Osamu could already feel an immense amount of pressure settling upon shoulders as he slipped into his designated classroom, leaving Atsumu’s side as different classes separated them. Idly walking down the aisles until his name tag placed on the corner of the desk seat number popped into his vision, cueing him to take a seat. 

It's uncomfortable, he thinks, I didn’t miss this. His notebook, that he didn’t really plan on using, took up space at his desk along with the small pouch that only contained two pens, a pencil, and extra lead. Leaning back in his chair, his hand fishes down into his pocket to pull out his phone, turning up the volume, as he checks the time. 

He has five minutes till class starts, not that he cared in the slightest. The only thing currently on Osamus mind besides his first high school volleyball practice (after guaranteeing a spot on the team months prior during his middle school scouting days) he was mostly worried about what seasonings he could add to his next onigiri batch. 

There's a loud thump next to him, his head craning to see the commotion. He’s only met with a lanky boy, shoulders broader than those Dorito chips he once saw his old school mate aran eating, and eyes slanted in a bored glare. His earbuds dangle from the neck hole of his shirt, but his large hands quickly come to pull the buds into his ears, leaning forward on the desk  and putting his arms out in front of him to use as a pillow against the hard wood of the tables. Osamu couldn’t describe the way the boy rendered him speechless, eyes staring into the boy wondrously.  

“Do you need something,” The boy says to him, pulling him from his daze, blinking twice as both boys stare at each other. 

“Sorry,” Osamu fumbles, turning forwards in his chair. 

-:-

“So these are the new first years?” The coach says next to a second year whos hair falls in front of their faces, amber eyes weaving in between each of the younger boys lined against the court. 

“There's one missing.” His voice is automatic, cool even to hear. 

 Osamu isn’t paying attention to the talk, his mind blankly staring at the nets, wondering what type of position would he be most effective in. Perhaps Atsumu would play as setter, and he could work alongside his brother, the only harmony that was ever brought into their never ending sibling rivalry. 

“Your late first year,” The coach booms as someone stumbles into the gym. This catches Osamus thoughts, his eyes following the commotion as someone goes to stand next to Atsumu. 

“Sorry, a teacher held me back.” 

“On the first day?”

“I fell asleep during announcements.” 

He falls silent as the coach goes on, explaining how the team would work and what was going to be on the agenda for the upcoming scrimmage game they were suppose to be playing against another school. But Osamu finds it hard to concentrate, looking between the tall brunette and the court. 

-:- 

He couldn’t pinpoint the moment he knew, it wasn’t something he had ever realized before in his life, until the confusion of his emotions finally made him realize it. Over the year, he hadn’t just grown close to Suna as you would expect of friends. No, it was much more to Osamu then he would ever admit to Suna. 

The way his heart would beat out of his chest, or the slight sheen of sweat that would slip across his hands when he spoke to the other boy. Sometimes he hated the way he felt, wishing he could return to simpler times, when all he had to worry about was volleyball, and the next snide remark he’d throw Atsumu’s way. 

He wondered endlessly if Suna ever picked up on those miniscule hints he’d leave. Like when the team would go out for ramen after a tournament went right, and he’d always take the seat next to Suna. The same applies when traveling distances, it was an unspoken agreement that Suna and Osamu would always be paired together in the bus seats. Those little gestures when Osamu would pick a pack of Chuupets to hand to Suna at the most random times, “Saw ‘em when I was grabbing some stuff for the onigiris ‘m makin’.” Possibly when Suna forgot his team jacket on cold days, Osamu would give him his extra that made home in his locker specifically for this occasion to pop up. 

-:-

The first time that Osamu ever inhaled the hazy smoke into his lungs, he was sitting next to Suna. The dark sky towering over them, the pressure of nationals coming to cause a permanent crease in their brows. 

“Wanna hit,” He asks Osamu, as they swing back and forth in slow, repetitive motions on the empty playgrounds swings. 

“I’ve never smoked before,” Osamu admitted, somewhat shyly, embarrassed at his lack of experience in front of someone who he knew had been smoking for a while now. 

“It's up to you, no pressure,” Suna would say, taking another hit, the rolled joint limply dangling from his lips, smoke emitting from his mouth with each inhale and exhale. Osamu wants to, he wants to know the high that Suna had adored so much, the pleasure that Suna would succumb to with each passing moment.

“Teach me,” He was scared he sounded desperate, or enthusiastic. He tried his best to act as if it didn’t bother him, attempting to keep a cool façade in front of Suna. Suna looks at him with a smirk, eyes slanted and red as he hands the drug to Osamu. When Suna slips him the joint, their fingers brush by slowly, lingering momentarily. It takes a few tries for Osamu to stop coughing when he takes a hit, Suna laughing each time until he gets it. 

Osamu gets it now, the feeling Suna chases each time he comes to smoke under the stars, “Does it always feel this good?” 

“Most of the time, sometimes you might have a bad trip,” He says. 

Osamu looks at Suna, wondering when they hand ended up lying in the grass together, at the most a foot apart as they gazed up at the burning balls of fire littering the sky. He always has his earbuds in, and Osamu wonders what is always playing through them, what music accompanies the man in front of him. 

“What are ya listen’ to,” Osamu asks then. Suna looks at him, and without a word, is taking the other earbud and handing it to Osamu.

Cigarettes after Sex. 

He had been listening to Cigarettes after Sex. 

-:-  

At the beginning of their third year, Osamu caught Suna in the halls, long after the bells had dismissed everyone to return home, leaving the building empty of all noise, minus the creaks the old building would create every once in a while. 

He had been kept back by his teacher, insisting to go through his bag as he, as the teacher explained, “Reeked of weed.” However Osamu mentally praised himself for leaving his stuff at home and blaming the smell on a convenience store he had been in, addressing the owner who had been smoking that morning. Of course this was a lie, but the teacher was stupid enough to believe the pitiful lie, sending Osamu on his way out. 

He was propped against the wall, head tilted upright as he crossed his arms over his body. He looked peaceful there, with his earbuds more than likely playing some form of arctic monkeys or pearl jam. Maybe he was listening to the 1975 this time, or U2, it could have been any of them. The sunlight bounced against his complexion, soaking him in a warm bath of melanin. His hair had been slightly tousled, more than likely the job of himself constantly running his hands through his hair. 

“What are ya still doing’ here,” Osamu asked him when he had finally approached him after ogling at him for a moment down the hall. 

“I heard you got called back, figured I wait around to go to practice with you.” Suna says as if it were nothing at all. Osamu would never admit it, but it meant more to him then words would even be able to begin to describe. 

“Ya coulda gon’ to practice,” Osamu mumbles, walking in sync with Suna now. 

“Got me out of warm up laps anyways.” His words are mysterious, not that getting out of warm up laps wasn’t a common occurrence for Suna, but to wait for Osamu, it just wasn’t typical of Suna. 

It surprised Osamu even more, when the next week after finishing a test late he found Suna waiting for him in the corridor, and every time after that. 

 -:-

“Do you ever think about what's going to happen when we graduate?” Suna asks quietly next to Osamu. They had been sitting at the skate park together, smoking accumulating between the two of them, as they talk quietly though they are the only ones here under the dim lights scattered around. 

“We graduate in a week and you want to start pondering what's going to happen in life?” Osamu laughs, taking another hit, lying against the cold cement. Suna doesn't say anything, staring directly in front of him. Osamu wonders what's going on inside of his head right now, though he doesn’t feel like he has the right to know. 

“Yeah,” He hums, “ I guess you're right.” 

But his words have something hidden behind them, something that Osamu can’t describe, but it twinges a wave of fear through him. The words felt cold, distant. He wants to ask, he wants to ask so badly if he’s okay, if there's something he can do if he is not. But he bites his lip and he doesn’t ask. 

He knows Suna too well at this point from the countless nights spent smoking together, the morning practices and pairings in class. He’s been to his hand more time then you’d even be able to count. He knows every little thing, like when he starts complaining more than he normally does, it's because he’s running on an empty stomach. And if his hands start shaking, it's never because he’s cold or because he’s angry, it's because he hasn’t gotten his daily dose of caffeine, and when he goes silent, it's never because he's sad, it's simply because he has nothing left to say. He hates when people talk too much, and it irritates him when people start singing for no apparent reason other than to just sing. He loves chuupet, and volleyball, and alternative music, and smoking. And he doesn’t care about much of anything else. 

But right now, as his eyes hold back the emotions he’s suppressing within himself, Osamu can see right through it, he can see the pain lingering in his grey-yellow eyes. He knows Suna will lie to him, because Suna’s thoughts were Suna’s thoughts alone. 

-:-

Osamu hated the way that the feeling never changed. It never let up, it never ceased. It only grew until the roots had entangled so deeply he could feel it crawling into his lungs branching out in a painstakingly slow ache. Suffocating him like he was ten feet under, buried beneath the surface of platonic smiles and thoughtless gestures. 

Some days he wished he would just say it. Three words, thats all it would take to assimilate this stupid feeling he couldn’t control. Three, simple, little words that hefted the weight of the world. 

In ways, it made him angry. Why couldn’t he just say it, why couldn’t he just tell the boy how he had truly felt. It was a simple feeling, and when the rejection came it would bide Osamu the time to figure himself out, to learn how to breathe again. But maybe that was it, maybe the reason he feared telling him the hardened truth of his feelings is because he knew deep down the rejection would kill him. It would make him lose any ounce of control he had built up, it would make him see red. He had already been hanging by the shreds of thread, if he exploited himself in this way there was no going back, there was going to be no more midnight smoke sessions, no more trips to the convenience store after practice, no more movie nights, no more him. 

Osamu felt constricted by the material wrapped around his body, was it hot in here? It was just him, the pouring rain against the window fogging it with each burst of coldness proving it to just be him. With a sigh, he slips the material off of his body, and throws it to the other side of the room. He’ll pick it up later, he tells himself when it hits the wall with a thud and silently falls to the ground below. 

He knows he won’t though. The pile of laundry that had been piling for the last month tells him exactly that. 

-:-

It's sticky in here, Osamu thinks. 

Its stick, and its muddy, and its hollow. It's packed to the brim with people, it's loud and annoying and they won’t shut up over the obnoxious thumping of whatever trash was blaring through the speakers set up through the house. And it's lonely. He knows Kita and Aran are over in the corner, arguing over who is going to be the designated driver, and he sees Atsumu’s talking to some boy with a mask over his face, thought Osamu notes how the boy looks out of place and uncomfortable (he feels the way this boy looks, but he wouldn’t ever voice that outloud) and he sees Suna. 

He’s sprawled against the leather couch, there's two girls, one on each arm, stuck to him like pesky little leeches, taking hits from his joint with those agonizing high pitched laughs. They were fake, he could see it from a mile a way, and he was sure Suna could see the same, but Suna wasn’t going to complain, not when later he’d mingle his way upstairs with one, if not both of them. 

It hurt Osamu to even think about it, and now the kitchen counter seemed to be pressing into his back more evidently, more uncomfortable then it had been before. He moves quietly outside, ditching the red solo cup that had been placed in his left hand, somewhere now scattered with the array of cups lining the counter. 

His hands pressed into the rail against the outside patio overlooking the backyard. Not as many people were here this time, only the couple in the corner who resembled suction cups and the scattered druggies doing harsher things than Osamu would ever even think about trying. Osamu couldn’t explain what was happening to him right now. 

Why did that suffocating feeling seem deeper, rougher now. Why did it feel like everything was breaking down. He didn’t understand why water had been leaking from his eyes, or why his breathing had picked up in pace, or why the red bleeding feeling felt like it was going to overcome his entire being. He just wanted out, but he couldn’t move. Paralyzed into holding onto that rail, knuckles burning white as he leaned over the edge slightly, rocking back and forth on his heel. 

He just wanted it to stop. He just wanted to breathe again. 

“Osamu,” He can hear the voice, but he can't make it out. It's more like white noise, like that shitty music in the background, or those girls laughing in Suna’s lap just moments ago. 

“Osamu,” He hears it again, it's louder this time, but the panic begins to trickle deeper inside of him, the rocking becoming more violent. Shaking his body in waves of unstoppable tremors, more tears relentlessly streaming down his face. 

“Osamu, hey, listen to me,” There are more words this time. He can feel someone's hand on his shoulder, he could hear the fear in their voice, as he slips further and further down this rabbit hold he can't climb out of. The world shifts for a moment however, and he feels his body slipping, he can’t tell if he’s being moved, but he feels the tugging at his wrist. The voice is yelling again, the music is louder, and Osamu can’t remember how, but somehow, someway, when he snaps from his daze, from that suffocating world of constant agony, he’s in a dimly lit room. 

Suna’s in front of him, his eyes are wide, and he has each hand on Osamu’s shaking shoulders. Atsumu is behind him, nervously biting his lip with his arms crossed against his chest in a worried manner. Kita is at the door with a glass of water, and other members of the team are hanging on at the door frame. All eyes were on him, and it made him feel even more constricted than before. 

“Make them go away,” He whispers, pulling his legs to his body, only now realizing the fetal position he had taken accustomed to on the floor. 

“Everyone out,” Suna says while standing up, pushing even his twin out the door, grumbles and groans following suit, a ‘hes my brother i should make sure he’s okay’ and a ‘he doesn’t need you to see him like this right now, it will only make him feel worse now get out’ before the room goes silent with only the bass from below shaking the floors and Suna’s shuffling from the door back over to him. 

“Are you okay,” He quietly asks, unsure of how he can help Osamu right now. 

Osamu doesn’t know how to respond, so instead he stays silent, he stays so quiet for so long he hopes that Suna will eventually get bored and take his leave. But Suna never does, he never moves from the squatted position in front of Osamu, he never takes his hand away from Osamus shoulder, he never stops the little circles he rubbing into the top of Osamu’s shoulder. 

It only hurts Osamu more, because it only makes him realize how much more in love with Suna he truly is. 

-:- 

“We did it.” Suna mumbles, kicking his feet against the wood chips surrounding the child's swing set him and Osamu had been sitting at. The sun had long since fallen, and the breeze picked up in their black graduation robes, the suits underneath the flimsy fabric enough to keep them warm. It had only been a few hours since they had been taking a plethora of pictures with family, walking across that damned stage and shaking hands with a principle they had only met enough to count on one hand alone. 

“I guess we did,” Osamu mumbles. He thinks back to only a week ago, back at the skatepark, the smoke, the atmosphere, the words that had left sunas lips that night. “Do you ever think about what's going to happen when we graduate?” 

Its only now Osamu truly understands what Suna was getting at. With one foot out the door they had their entire lives ahead of them now, bracing for impact for the true glories and misfortunes life had to offer them.

“I’m not gonna pursue Volleyball in college,” Osamu blurts, speaking softly as he watches the star twinkle in the sky. He had been thinking long and hard about this decision, fearing what the consequences may be of quitting a sport, he not only loved, but was good at. He can feel Suna’s head turn toward him. 

“Really?” 

Osamu stays quiet for a moment, “I love volleyball, don’t get me wrong, but I don’t think I like it as much as ‘tsumu does, and it just doesn’t feel like my calling.” 

“What feels like your calling then?” Suna is quiet. 

“Not sure yet, but I do love food. Maybe I’ll travel, learn different food cuisines, or I’ll start my own shop, who knows where life will take me.” 

Suna goes quiet, his eyes trained down into his laps as each finger picks at the other, his chunky silver rings twirling and twisting with each fumble, “What if life won’t take you anywhere.” 

It was Osamu’s turn to snap his head in the direction of the brunette, curiosity laced in his emotions. Suna won’t look up at him, instead focusing still on his rings, playing with them gently, in particular the snake slithering up his middle finger, whose emerald eyes glare up at him.

“What do ya mean by that.” 

“What if...what if life doesn’t have anything planned for you, what if you're just there to take up space.” 

“Everyone is here fer a reason Suna. Everyone has a purpose, a cause, an effect. One day, yer gonna find yer life heading in directions ya love, and directions ya hate. But there’s always gonna to be a path waiting for ya, there’s always gonna to be somebody there too, to keep ya standing, to keep ya breathing,” Osamu was sure these were the wisest words to ever push past his lips. 

Sunas eyes bore into his now, they’re still on the swings, not even the gusts of wind can move them at this moment. Suna breathes out for a moment before taking off his snake ring, and gently opens up Osamu’s fingers before placing it in his hand. 

“The world is unforgiving, you’ll always be alone even when you’re surrounded by millions of people.” 

-:- 

It was exactly 2:46 am when Osamu had been disrupted from his sleep, pulled out of bed by the crying sounds of his phone, blaring out that ringtone he wished he could just smash at the wall. 

It was exactly 2:46 am when he heard Suna’s shaky heavy breath on the other line. 

It was exactly 2:47 am when he was running out the door, his shoes half on, his keys in one hand, his brother yelling from down the hall. 

It was 2:59 am by the time he had reached Suna’s front door, smashing through it at the speed of light. 

It was 3:00 Am by the time Osamu found him, mopped up by his own saliva, foam trickling from his mouth, his body convulsing in panic rages surrounded by pools of blood seeping from his wrists and pills sprawled across the floor. 

-:- 

Osamu hated hospitals. He hated the smell of antiseptics that flowed down each hall, and the way people walked in almost pure silence. He hated the way he would see people crumble on their knees the moment the doctor came out with that look on his face. He hated that hospitals go be the center of positivity and the bane of someone's worst nightmare at the same time. 

“How did we not know he wer’ gonna do something’ like this,” He hears from next to him, and with the lull of his head and the most deadpan expression Osamu mutters, “Shut up ‘tsumu.” 

And the silence overtakes them, and the entire waiting room is filled with people. So many people Osamu knew from school, and others from when he’d go over to Suna’s house after school. The hardest, perhaps in Osamus opinion, was Suna’s little sister. Her hair was in two separate braids, flicked up in different directions as her eyes were puffed out in an angry red color, glossed over by the tears that had long ago stopped falling. She hadn’t released her bottom lip from the grip her teeth had on it, her hands moving in her lap, similar to the way Suna’s had once fumbled. 

It chokes Osamu, suffocating him, but this time it's not because of the emotions he felt towards Suna. This time it was at the numbness that began to over encumber him leaving him void of any expression. 

-:- 

He couldn’t leave the chair at Suna’s beside when no one else was in the room, he always held his hand too then, even if the wires got in the way of him holding his brittle cold hands. The snake wrapped around his index finger now, curled up against the pale flesh Suna had silently offered to him. 

He was afraid he wasn’t going to wake up. Osamu knew this situation too well, he knew he would drown in this. It was his fault, wasn’t it. He should have picked up on the cues that night, he should have picked up on the cues the week before, or the months before that. He should have known when it started, instead, he was selfish. Instead he only focused on himself, on the feelings he tried to hide from the male next to him. If only he admitted his feelings, if only he had seen the bigger picture, maybe he would have seen Suna. 

Osamu hadn’t cried yet, though he had probably been the closest to Suna, he hadn’t let a tear slip yet, afraid that if he were too, then he would never stop. He brings Suna’s limp hand to his lips, leaving his lips to gently lay a kiss at the spot where Suna’s thumb and index finger were conjoined. 

“Come back to me Suna, I have something to tell you.” 

-:- 

He never missed a day, every single morning he embedded it into his routine to check in on Suna during the following months. He was always still breathing, but never awake. His heart always pumping, but his brain shut off. 

He just wanted Suna to wake up, to hold his hand instead of the other way around, he wanted Suna to know the truth, he wanted to hold him, and this time he would never let him slip. It was a promise Osamu always wanted to make to him. 

“I’ll be back later tonight, you’re mom asked me to drop some things off at your house for her, don’t wait up,” he tries to joke, but it doesn’t ease the feeling inside of him. He looks at the motionless body, his eyes were trained on his lips. Osamu had always wondered what they felt like, but he was sure between the stone cold air of the hospital and the lack of vanilla Chapstick Osamu always saw peeking out of Suna’s bag, that right now his lips would feel bitterly chapped.

It doesn’t stop him from leaning in, to place his own against Suna, just slightly away from his lip however, and onto the silky smooth skin that lie at Suna’s cheek. 

He’d kiss him for real when he woke up. 

-:-

“The key is under the mat, Osamu thank you so much for doing this, I just...I can’t go into his room right now, I haven’t been able to for months,” Suna’s mothers voice was strained, cutting in and out from the sobs she was trying her best to hold back. 

“It’s okay Mrs. Rintarou, I’m glad to help.” 

And the line goes dead as Osamu hangs up with a simple click to the red button as his hand slips under the welcome mat to find the spare key awaiting him. He pushes the key in and the stagnant air hits him like a brick as he steps through the doorway, discarding his shoes at the front entryway. He looks down the hall, his memories flashing back to that moment, as if it were all in slow motion, like it had been happening all over again. 

Osamu shakes his head as he slowly steps down the hall, making a left before the sealed off bathroom, and walking into the room he hoped he’d never have to step into again. If he thought the front door had been a pile of bricks, then his room had to be the cement burning him into the earth. 

“Dude shut up, it was one time.” Suna laughs, throwing pieces of the popcorn from the round bowl in his arms at Osamu. 

“Oh yeah, just once,” He mimics in a sarcastic tone, throwing the popcorn back at Suna. Suna rolls his eyes and goes back to scrolling aimlessly at his phone. Osamu was lying stomach down on the floor, and angled that if Suna looked over, he would absolutely see the younger miya twin staring up at him, but how could he not when the sun was glowing so effortlessly against the boys skin. 

He could trace every curve along Suna’s defined face in this lighting, burning this image of him into the back of his skull. 

Osamu blinks, reality setting in around him that he now stood in the room alone, the basket of clothes Suna had arrived at the hospital now lying in the plastic bag, taking up needless space inside of his hospital room.  He just needed to set it in the corner and leave, that was his only job, nothing more, nothing less. 

But Osamu’s eyes flicker too far to the right, and an envelope neatly placed in the center of Suna’s desk fills his vision. He knows what it is, that's obvious enough from the placement of the paper. When his legs wander to the table, he wishes he had just turned on his heel and left right then. But when his vision is evoked with the letting of Suna’s familiar scribble and his name adoring the empty space of the white canvas, Osamu loses his control to stay strong, and the first tear falls. The second when his hands unseal the back of the envelope, the third when he pulls the letter from the pouch, and the fourth when he reads 

Dear Osamu.

Its not your fault. 

And I love you too, even though I should have said it allowed. 

I love you so dearly.

I’ve lost my fight, but please don’t lose yours. 

Suna. 

He didn’t know when the showers from his eyes began as he collapsed down to the floor, holding the letter closely to his chest as he screams out. For the first time in months, he screams out the pain blocking him, the pain consuming him. 

He doesn’t even have the time to process this information, because that ringtone flares up again, just like it had done that night. 

“H-hello?” Osamu says as he picks up, unsure of the caller id, he couldn't care to look at this point. 

“He woke up Sumu. He’s awake.” 

And just like his legs carried him out of the house that night, he’s sprint full force to his car and sliding into the driver's seat, turning the key into the ignition and speeding down the road recklessly past the stop sign. 

He should have stopped. 

-:- 

“Where’s Osamu,” Suna croaks out, it's the first thing he’s said, the vision of Osamu bleakly pulling into his memory. 

“He’s on his way, he’ll be here any minute,” Suna’s mother says, with joyous tears in her eyes. 

-:- 

“Where’s Osamu.” 

“There was an accident.” 

-:- 

Suna was wrapped in the navy blue sweater Osamu had given to him, tightly secure in the knitted fabric as his white collar shirt peeked out from the bottom of it, contrasting against his dark jeans. His long legs were wrapped up to his chest, his head softly laying in between his knees. 

“It would have been easier if I couldn’t remember you,” he whispers, “You were like a drug you know. You were heaven to have, a high I’ll never get back now that you're gone.” 

He stares at the stone in the grass carefully watching the flowers he had set up hours ago sway with the wind, “We’d probably be smoking right now, except we’d be closer. Sometimes I imagine the way it would feel to have you laid across my lap.” 

Suna can feel the tears now, “I wish I never woke up, I wish I had gone that night, you’d still be here, and it should have gone the way it was supposed to.” 

He can almost hear his words in the back of his mind. Everyone has a purpose, a cause, an effect. He sniffles slightly as he brushes his finger past his nose with his sweater hanging past his fingers, “You would have told me otherwise...wouldn’t you Osamu.” 

[seiin-translations]

2.43 S1 Chapter 3.4 - The Dog’s View and the Giraffe’s View

4. CHILD OF VOLLEYBALL

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In the week before the ballgame tournament, practice for the tournament took priority over after school club activities. On Monday after school, it was the first day of team practice for Team F.

“I’m not the manager for the boys’ volleyball team. I’m just here to help out.”

“It’s totally fine! We have twenty-four people and only one manager currently. How many does boys’ volleyball have? Huh, eight? So little. One per twenty-four people and one per eight, don’t you think that’s a weird ratio? We’re going to need three managers, you know? That’s why, please be our manager.”

“Look…you haven’t listened what I said at all, have you. I don’t know how you think that logic is going to convince me.”

When he went to the gym, he immediately came across a scene of a row of four muscular boys were sitting on their heels and making supplications to one girl. The girl they were supplicating to was the second-year Suemori, who came as a helper from the girls’ volleyball team.

For today’s practice, it was arranged that the two teams would each use one half of the court. The teams were Oda’s Team F and Team B, which had the corps from the aforementioned rugby team. The rugby team was the third great power among the boys’ sports clubs in the school after the soccer and baseball teams, but because rugby wasn’t included in the events of the school’s ballgame tournament, they appeared to have discovered their raison d’etre in the ballgame tournament by dispatching members to each event and having them run wild. As if to tout their club, all four of them were wearing those characteristic horizontally-striped shirts, and the pattern made their upper bodies look even squarer and burlier. I’m pretty sure the temperature in the gym went up one or two degrees because of those four… Though it was already the season of high humidity, it really was sweltering in there.

“This isn’t the time for scouting. Scram.”

Oda raised his voice and cut in front of Suemori.

“Suemori is our important charge from girls’ volleyball. If anything happens to her while she’s with us, I’ll get throttled by them. If you wanna poach her, talk it over with the girls’ volleyball captain.”

“Aaah? What’s your problem?”

One person among the four talked back in a boorish voice. His height approached Aoki’s when he stood, and unlike Aoki, he had a width and thickness, so his weight was completely different. He felt a feeling of oppression like he was being crushed just from standing in front of him.

This man was a second-year from the rugby club, Okuma.

“This ain’t the place for a first-year runt to show up. Get outta here.”

The moment he said that, his temple started convulsing, but it would never end if he flared up at every single thing.

“I’m the captain for boys’ volleyball, Oda from 3-F. I’m in charge today.”

“Heh? A third-year? You serious?”

Okuma’s eyes widened, and he confirmed with Suemori over Oda’s head instead of with Oda himself. Standing in a position to protect Suemori, she was taller than him. Oda’s existence was no obstacle for Okuma.

When they were convinced that he was really an upperclassman, Okuma and the other three changed their attitude more or less, and they followed his orders without disturbing the progress. First, the two teams took the time for a joint orientation. There were three to five students from each grade per team. There would be no more than twenty-five people in two teams. Three times the usual number of eyes during regular club practice watched him and listened to him seriously. He was a little nervous and cleared his throat several times.

He didn’t see Haijima there. He wondered if the positions were assigned just for the sake of adjusting the numbers. If that was the case, then excepting Suemori who was a girl, Oda was the only one who had volleyball experience between these two teams.

In the volleyball division of the ballgame tournament, all six teams would be divided into two groups of three teams, and after a round-robin competition within the group, the first-place team in each group would play the deciding round. The group league had a total of six games, and adding the deciding round, that would make a total of seven games. The regular rule was to get twenty-five points first, but they eased that so that it was now a three-set match where the team that got fifteen points first won. Although, if they were to pull off seven games without a hitch, it was going to be a dizzying day for them on the management side.

“I’m sure we’ve all did it before in gym, so you’re alright with the basics, right? The rotations might feel complicated, but well, don’t take fouls down to the smallest detail, just three people in the front row and three in the back, and make sure to serve in the right order. Once you got it, you’ll be divided into teams to practice. I’m in Team F, and Suemori’s in B, so take a look. If there’s anything, call us immediately.”

“Hey, Captain!” Okuma raised his hand when he was about to tell them to split up.

“I’m not your captain, but…what?”

“It’s boring to practice separately. B and F should play a game. I think that’ll help us learn the flow of the game better.”

“A sudden game?”

Is he the type who loves playing games but hates practice? Oda didn’t like people who neglected basic practice. He frowned and said, “You can play games on the day of the tournament. Why do I have to teach your team our plays?”

“You don’t mind showing just a little, do you? Don’t tell me you’re gonna lose to a bunch of rookies like us? You can jump about two meters, right Captain? If you can’t do that much, then we’d be able to knock you down without jumping.”

I thought he’d become obedient, but he was thinking about things like that…I’m not going to be taken in by such a cheap provocation. I should just ignore it and move to practice as planned. He was thinking that, but he couldn’t help but feel a boiling feeling at the pit of his stomach. No, Aoki’s not here today, so I have to be the one to keep calm.

“Senpai, let’s do it. Why don’t we just do one set?”

Right when he was working hard to restrain himself, he was unexpectedly spurred on. He turned around in surprise and Suemori was standing firm with an expression that was even more indignant than Oda’s.

“Suemori-san, you sure are brave. I want you to be our manager more and more.”

Suemori gave a sharp glare at a grinning Okuma before whispering into Oda’s ear. “Oda-senpai, aren’t you angry? I can’t stand it. Making fun of volleyball…Let’s break his nose.”

“No, even if you say that…”

“If you don’t have confidence in yourself, then I’ll join.”

Suemori started taking off her jersey on the spot, so he immediately stopped her with “Wait. It’s better for me to play than you.”

His voice was a grade lower, becoming insecure. Suemori’s face immediately reddened and she looked down, saying “No…sorry.” I might have said it too harshly. But, more than being made fun of by an amateur like Okuma, my pride was hurt by the fact that I was even looked down on by someone from girls’ volleyball.

He did have confidence. He wasn’t about to be beaten by an amateur who was just huge. He honestly even agreed with the idea of knocking him down a peg. However, it would be a problem if a girl was put in and got injured. Although Okuma was an amateur at volleyball, he was an athlete who did ball sports, and there was an insurmountable wall between men and women in the power of the ball.

But, it was true that there wasn’t even anyone who could set by themselves. If there was just one more person with experience in Team F…

…We do.

The figure entered the corner of his field of vision as though it was timed. They were standing at the entrance to the gym with a suspicious face, perhaps feeling that there was something off—Haijima.

“Suemori…can you go get Kanno?”

“Huh?”

A dispirited Suemori raised her head and blinked.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

The reason he called Kanno was trivial, he just wanted him to be the referee. Suemori was in charge of displaying the points. It would only be one set where the first to get fifteen points won. If he considered this a sideshow, then this would be a good amount of time to devote to it.

He looked at Haijima, who was doing some light stretching in front of the net. Anyways, it was a piece of good luck that he was able to pull him up to the court before he could say anything…he might have to thank Okuma for that.

There were many people present in their gym jerseys, but Haijima’s equipment gave him a different vibe from the amateurs. He wore long underpants that reached his ankles beneath black shorts, short socks, and volleyball shoes that looked worn in. That Mizuno was the same model as Kuroba’s. And the taping that was tightly wrapped around the fingers of both his hands gave off an aura of something different.

When he thought that he had a different impression of his face than when he saw him in the school building, it was due to the presence of his glasses.

I see, so he switches to contacts when he’s playing.

When he was in his school uniform and wearing his glasses, he had the impression of a moody, literary-type of boy, but now suddenly he seemed like an athlete. There were also sports glasses, but sports glasses for volleyball inevitably took the shape of goggles due to the nature of the sport, and perhaps because it narrowed the field of vision and honestly didn’t look good, but Oda had never seen a high schooler use them.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t had much good will towards Haijima after the April incident. It wasn’t that he hated him, but he was completely in the category of people he didn’t like dealing with. It was creepy that he couldn’t read what he was thinking about at all, even now. A simply neutral expression with no enthusiasm or nervousness. I wonder what kind of play would actually be created by standing on the same court as this guy. Oda was the one who was made considerably more nervous.

However, on the other hand, he also felt excitement. ——He was looking forward to it.

“Then, the person doing the serve receive should try to return it to Haijima as much as possible. That’s our setter, Haijima.”

The other four people on the court are have some experience from gym class. He decided to try using them all first while alternating them.

“Haijima, are you fine with being the setter? Are you up for it? You haven’t done it for a while.”

Haijima, who was relaxing his shoulders, gave him a sideways glance and looked offended.

“What’s your highest jump reach height?”

He was suddenly asked a straight-to-the-point question. Without asking about the circumstances that led to this match, without saying a word of greeting like “Sorry I’m late” or “I’ll be in your care,” that was the first thing out of his mouth after he came here.

“For spikes, these days it’s 315.”

“You can jump for someone of your height.”

Haijima said and narrowed his eyes. It was a completely disparaging tone, but wait, was I praised just now? I feel like asking someone to interpret for me.

The height he could reach after doing a run-up and jumping was the highest point for a spike jump. In Oda’s case, his finger height (the height he could reach with his hand while standing) was 215 centimeters, so his spike jump was up to one meter. The two meters Okuma instigated with was of course an impossible figure—the height for a male high school volleyball player would be from around 70 to 90 centimeters. He thought that one meter was a figure to be considerably proud of.

From the start, Team B had three rugby team members in the three front row positions. He wasn’t sure if they were thinking up their own strategy where they were going to knock down the first of their attacks with a block and kill their momentum.

Kanno, who found himself in the role of chief referee, blew the whistle, and the game started with Team B’s serve. Since the server was an amateur, it was a simple underhand serve. However, because their receivers were also amateurs, it was difficult for them to cleanly return it to the setter, and the ball was greatly repelled.

Oda was about to jump out to cover for them, but…

…What!?

Haijima was already underneath the ball. So fast!? He didn’t just move fast. His reading of the ball’s course was fast as well. While in an overhand stance, his eyes swiftly scanned the entire court and he signalled Oda with his eyes for a moment. Oda, who had unintentionally stopped in his tracks, quickly rushed to the front of the net. A set was released from Haijima’s fingers with much faster timing that he expected. He was sure he didn’t make such a fast set when he saw him at the prefecturals. It was a confident set from a distance where normally a safe four set would be the only way to go.

So fast—no, rather than fast, what’s with that trajectory!?

He managed to reach up in the midair and hit it with his hand. He didn’t exactly hit the ball squarely, but the three blockers that marked Oda didn’t keep up with him at all.

The ball fell to Team B’s court over the head of the blocker who only jumped halfway. Oda himself felt like he was bewitched, and he landed with the pit of his stomach feeling somewhat weightless.

The view was wonderful. He could see the opposing court, which was usually always blocked by a wall, well. It wasn’t every day he got the chance to spike over the head of a tall blocker, so he had completely forgotten—was going over a block this exhilarating? He felt ticklish on the inside. He felt good…

With a backwards glance at the astonished opposing team, Oda ran up to Haijima.

“Oi, what’s with that set?”

Even so, it was a complaint that came out of his mouth first. He had just barely kept up, but it wouldn’t be strange if he had struck and missed.

“I can’t hit anything if you just set it without warning.”

“That one just now was lower than 315. As expected, I’m rusty from not playing for a while. My perception is dull.”

Haijima said, tilting his head to the side as though he wasn’t satisfied. He was going to make me hit it at three-one-five because I said that was the highest point I could jump? Is he a demon?

“It’s the same with the height, but it’s more a problem of timing. There’s no way I can hit the ball at that tempo if I don’t have anything to match.”

The basic set was called an open set, and the attacker must time the ball as it rose high and fell in a parabolic path and hit it. A spike that is hit at the slowest timing was called a third tempo.

Even so, Haijima’s set was a set that made the attacker hit the ball at the peak of the parabola. As a result, the trajectory towards the hitting point was short, in other words, “fast.” From the point of view of an attacker, it looked like it was flying “directly” at them. The attacker was pulling off the transcendental thing of smashing in the top of the set at the moment they swung at the highest point, but there were many demands on the attacker’s part as well. What kind of nerve did this guy have to set something like that to someone he’s matching with for the first time?

Haijima looked away from Oda, who was snapping at him, and looked as though he had lost interest in something.

“Kuroba can hit it.”

I see, I couldn’t see that high-speed setting at the middle school prefecturals because Kuroba wasn’t there?—His competitiveness was slowly rearing its head. Do you expect me to keep quiet when I’m told that me, a third-year, can’t hit what a first-year can? I know he can evade high blocks at that speed. If he could make that hitting position and speed into a thing…

“…It’s fine. Don’t change what you’re doing. I’ll match you with all I got next time.”

Haijima blinked, and then let out a short breath and squinted his eyes. …He laughed? Maybe?

“Senpai, it’s your team’s serve. You’ll be taking a delay penalty.”

Kanno called out to him in a mild voice. The rotation turned once, and then it was Haijima’s serve.

“You don’t need to match me. I’ll be the one matching you. You seem like you still have a lot more in you, so could you please give a little more? You can go up to about 320, right?”

Calmly leaving that extremely brazen and shameless statement, Haijima turned on his heel and walked to the service zone.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

His initial goal of breaking Okuma’s competitive spirit was blown out of his mind. He wanted to get Haijima to acknowledge him. That was all he could think about starting from midway through the match. He was so absorbed in it that he even forgot that this was practice for the ballgame tournament and was very ashamed to find out later that Kanno and Suemori were supporting the first-timers from off the court. It was a bad habit of his to lose sight of his surroundings when he got passionate. He had his hands full with what was before his eyes.

“Haijima, next time you get a chance, send it to the center.”

In the final stage of the set, the back row demanded a back row attack from Haijima. He was thinking of that high-speed center back Kuroba tried to show on his first day joining the club. If Kuroba could do it, then he wanted to do it himself as well.

“Oi, ref! Ain’t that what they call a delay? They’re just whispering to each other over there. That’s a foul, a foul!”

Okuma raised his voice from the other side of the net. He seemed to be pretty irritated with getting fouls many times when blocking. It was Haijima who incorporated the ingenious technique of playing right at the edge of the net to tempt his opponent into reaching over the net or touching it. He truly was a frightening first-year.

The B-team’s court got the serve, and Okuma jumped to spike it with a beast-like roar. However, Haijima moved in front of it with nimble steps and blocked it. Oi oi…Oda grumbled in his mind. Is he fully ready to end the game with block points? I just said that I wanted to do a back-row attack. Read the room.

Okuma was taller, but Haijima stopped the course with the precise way he moved his arms. It was a form he wanted to use as a model for first-years who were bad at blocking.

Oh…I’m looking at someone who has received the favor of volleyball up close right now… He was given every sense from the god of volleyball…

Thump. A different sound from the sound of a ball being hit was heard. From Oda’s position, it was a blind spot, so he couldn’t immediately grasp what had happened.

Rather than landing on the floor, Haijima dropped. Kanno immediately blew the foul whistle.

“Haijima!”

He rushed over to him in fright. Haijima was pressing his hand near his right eye, squatting and gritting his teeth. Was it his eye? His forehead? Kanno and Suemori also ran over, and the court was in disorder for a short while.

“Hey, what the hell were you doing? This isn’t rugby!”

He barked across the net, blood rushing to his head. Okuma made excuses with a slightly frightened look on his face.

“It, it wasn’t on purpose, captain. I only hit him by accident.”

“Don’t lie to me. If anything happens to our members, I’ll make you…”

“Senpai. I think he’s probably telling the truth. It wasn’t intentional. Please calm down. I was watching.”

He was clenching his fists and half-rising to his feet, but Kanno held down his shoulders. Admonished calmly by his kouhai, he reluctantly got back down while clenching his teeth.

“I’m fine…My contact just slipped.”

Haijima slowly got up. His voice was somewhat hoarse, but his articulation was clear. Oda was relieved that it didn’t seem serious.

“I’m removing myself from the game. Ow…”

After Haijima staggered out of the gym while pressing his hand against his right eye, the atmosphere immediately became like the closing of a performance. The decision was that Team B committed a foul, and Team F won 15-10, but they didn’t really care about winning or losing anymore.

The turmoil from the trouble caused everyone to lose concentration, so they decided to call off the rest of practice today. Oda’s concentration was more scattered than anyone else’s. He was in a position where he had to have more composure, but the role of captain was something that he was unequal to from the start. I don’t have the qualities to lead a team, I’m just selfish, I just…wanted to be a hitter. I just like getting to a place as high as possible above people and making them surrender.

The pleasure of being in a duo with Haijima still lingered. It was a feeling like a slight numbness that spread from the core of his body to his right fingertips.

I want him—A small but concentrated amount of fuel was thrown down onto his feelings of tiredness after losing in the prefectural tournament.

Practice was cut early and they dispersed, with Okuma and the rest of the rugby corps also leaving. When he was looking at the court thinking that it suddenly cooled down when those guys were gone, he saw Haijima standing before the net, staring fixedly up at it for some reason.

“Are you feeling okay? If you still feel like something’s off, go get it checked out. If you don’t know the hospitals around here, I’ll go with you.”

“I’m pretty familiar with it.”

“You don’t see rough play like that in volleyball a lot, do you?”

“No, I mean outside.”

“…?” Oh, he means outside the court? Hey, you need complete your sentences over here to have the conversation connect well.

In his case, no matter how you think about, the way he speaks is causing trouble. It’s no wonder Aoki went off at me about inviting him—he got him to lay a hand, I mean, foot on him.

“This is 2.43, eh.”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah it is, how did you notice? I told them to put it up at 2.4 since we’re not doing club practice today… I guess we’d been playing at 2.43 all day.”

At the ballgame tournament, the boys would be playing with the net at 2.40 meters. The same height as the official matches within the prefecture. When it came to tournaments that were above prefecture-level like regional and national tournaments, they were treated the same as general boy’s volleyball at 2.43 meters.

“Do you usually practice at 2.43?”

“Yeah, it’ll be at this height for Spring Inter-High, anyways.”

Haijima gave him a sideways glance, looking slightly shocked.

Following Inter-High in the summer and Nationals in the fall, the tournament that filled in the last piece of the three major national volleyball competitions was “Spring Inter-High Volleyball”. This tournament, which was held in a particularly spectacular manner among the three major competitions, was a grand stage that could be compared to Koshien for high schoolers who played volleyball (as for Oda, he didn’t want to use this metaphor. Even if you didn’t use baseball as a reference, Spring Inter-High was still Spring Inter-High). It used to be held in March but has now been moved to January, so third-years could participate as well, making it the last tournament that all three school years to face together.

Even at Spring Inter-High, the net was 2.40 meters at the prefectural qualifiers, but 2.43 meters at the main national competition in Tokyo.

“Is it funny? A tiny team like us talking about Spring Inter-High. That might be so, but I don’t think I said anything embarrassing.”

Even if people would think he was conceited, Oda was serious. If Haijima joined their current members, it wouldn’t be a pipe dream in the least. It was a realistic goal.

Haijima’s eyes returned to the net again.

“…I think that kind of thing is okay.”

He muttered. He stretched one hand and touched the top tape of the net. 2.43 meters was, if one were to give an easy-to-understand example, about the height of the ceiling in a house. For the 163 centimeters Oda, it wasn’t a place he could reach just by stretching himself. He envied his ease with which he could put his fingers on it and, it might sound strange, to fix his eyes upon it.

“Is this…the height for Spring Inter-High?”

Oh, he smiled… His face was purely radiant, a complete change from the previous arrogance and impudence, and he was shocked to see that he could make an expression like that. It was by no means a frank and open smile. Like a strong light covered by a thin curtain and gently diffusing through it…it overlapped with Kuroba’s face when he looked up at the same thing with sparkling eyes on the first day of practice in April, even though the vectors were completely different.

His feeling that Haijima would be hard to deal with had, before he knew it, faded through the match.

“Hey, you know, I had a great time playing with you today. You had a little fun too, didn’t you?”

“Oda-san has good reflexes.”

Unused to hearing himself be called “Oda-san,” he felt itchy. What’s more, he was using standard Japanese, so it was like he was being addressed from the TV. But, it’s nice, being called that by him.

“What you don’t have in height, you make up for with being athletic. You have power too. Stretching your body in midair, I like that.”

Even though he lambasted him two months ago, he easily reversed that and acknowledged him. Is he arrogant or honest…what a weird guy.

Just as I thought, rather than trying to do something with words, it might be better to invite him to the court first. What the hell, I feel kinda happy when I’m acknowledged by him… Pride filled his chest. He was able to believe that he hadn’t been continuing to do something meaningless.

“Will you join us, Haijima? It’ll be boring if you wanna do it by yourself. You chose volleyball for the ballgame tournament too, right?” There was no doubt that he continued to practice even though he wasn’t a part of the club. There was no way a guy who had a gap period since last summer could move like that.

He expected him to nod, but Haijima dropped his gaze to the court at his feet with a sullen look on his face. His childish action of poking at the ground with the toe of his shoe made Oda feel impatient and irritated. There was also envy. Why the hell is a guy who, unlike me, can just go on with volleyball without thinking about anything, hesitating here?

“I’m sure you’ll change your mind, Oda-san. I’m not very well liked. As long as I’m a setter…”

——“Why are you clinging to that position?”

It suddenly occurred to Oda that those words that were spat at him before might not have been contempt towards him.

Is it possible that it’s something Haijima himself has been thinking about…? Even the personification of volleyball sense who seems like he was chosen by the god of volleyball thinks that way?

“Hmm? Why are you guys hiding?”

Suemori’s voice echoed in the quiet gym.

Suemori and Kanno, who had spread out a piece of construction paper in a corner of the gym and working hard on creating a records chart, looked up and turned their heads to the doorway. The two heads that were peeking in from the shadow of the iron door shook with a start.

“Did you guys come to help clean up? If that’s the case, hurry up.”

Suemori briskly stood up, and Kanno followed quietly. Though the two timidly showed themselves, they stopped at the door like they had trouble getting in. It was Kuroba and Nagato. The air Haijima wore around him instantly stiffened. Were they all from the same middle school volleyball team?

“Senpai, is it true that Haijima is joining the club?”

It was Nagato who asked that. His face was unwelcoming without even having to say it aloud. He pulled on Kuroba’s elbow as if to tell him to say something as well, but he looked away with an ambiguous look on his face.

“I’d like to have him join. I’m in the middle of persuading him, though. If there’s something bothering you, speak up.”

Oda didn’t really hide his ill humor, and he raised his voice to highlight his captain’s dignity. One of Oda’s biggest aggravations was the behaviour of trying to get rid of people in a roundabout way.

“I’m not joining, so don’t worry.”

However, Haijima himself interjected from the side. His tone, which had begun to soften, had returned to being curt again. “I don’t think I’m obligated to join in the cleanup,” he rudely excused himself and turned towards the metal door without bowing. It was towards the other metal door, clearly avoiding Kuroba and Nagato. Oda wanted to tear off his head, as just when he thought he closed the distance a little, he was back to square one.

“I understand Nagato’s point of view. What about you, Kuroba?”

“Huh?”

Kuroba jumped and took on a posture of caution.

“I…I…”

He awkwardly peeking sideways at Haijima, and then cast his eyes down, looking a little bit like he was about to cry. Even though he was so big, he sometimes made expressions like those of an elementary school student, much less a middle school student. Haijima, who had stopped for a moment, started walking again. It was at a quicker pace than before.

After that gangly body disappeared behind the metal doors, Nagato opened his mouth as though he couldn’t bear to wait for that.

“Oda-senpai doesn’t know anything. If Haijima joins, then Yuni really won’t participate in any official games. In a way, we lost that other time because of Haijima…”

“Ryo, stop it. I told you that has nothing to do with it.”

With his face bright red, Kuroba stopped Nagato. However, his voice was weak and it didn’t sound like he was seriously denying it.

Making his voice stern, Oda asked them a question.

“What do you mean?”

Previous || Index || Next

[pixelfun20]

Flower Fields: Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Notes: Again, all credit to @give-grian-rights (hope you don’t mind the tag!) for the concept! Thank you so much! Also almost forgot to post this on Tumblr rip.

No fighting wars, no ringing chimes

We're just feeling fine

Tubbo started out by building his starter base.

It was a concept he’d learned about while living with Xisuma, and it was quite a good one, too. After all, megabases worthy of Hermitcraft’s admittedly lofty standards often took months to build, and he’d need somewhere to live in the meantime. In Season 6, he’d neglected that fact, and had suffered his fair share of mob deaths before he put up four walls and a ceiling to protect himself, back when he’d left to live on his own. And that was with a small, quickly-thrown together base, not the project he was currently planning.

Still, even setting up the basics of his starter base took a few nearly sleepless days. Finally, the framework for the build, a treehouse spanning more than a few trees at the edge of the forest, was up, and Tubbo was finally able to place a bed down in safety and sleep for a solid fourteen hours straight.

Xisuma dropped by, quite literally, a day or so later.

Tubbo had been sitting in his quickly-expanding living room, sorting through the loot he’d gotten from yesterday’s day-long mining session when he swooped down through the half-finished roof. While he was still wearing his bee-themed armor, now there were two glider-like wings, shimmering purple, strapped to his back.

“Heya, X,” Tubbo greeted the admin with a wave, closing one of his chests. “You got elytra already?”

“Tango and I defeated the Ender Dragon yesterday,” Xisuma replied, touching down softly. Tubbo made an ‘ah’ sound, recalling the achievement he’d seen out of the corner of his eye the other day. Right; he’d forgotten about that. Trust X to be as efficient as possible and defeat one of the toughest monsters in the world just for the ease of travel.

“I’ll have to go endbusting soon, then,” he said, more to himself than X. Before the elder man could protest (ah, he was getting good at noticing when he was going to), he added: “Stress and xB have already asked me to go with them, so don’t worry , alright?”

“Good,” Xisuma sighed. “It’s never a good idea to go out on your own, especially since this’ll be your first time seriously exploring the End.”

Tubbo rolled his eyes good naturedly. To be fair, he hadn’t gone out to the End before it had been conquered before. He’d had a fair few trips last Season, mostly with X, but it was generally for the XP farm once it’d been set up. He’d never left the main island before. Now that he had considerably more freedom at the beginning of the Season, he was excited to go exploring.

“Anything bring you over?” He asked, changing the subject.

Xisuma nodded. “Yeah. A bunch of the others are getting together for some sort of wrestling tournament this weekend.”

“And I’ve been invited?!” He grinned, clapping his hands together.

“As the referee.”

“Ah,” he pouted. “Darn.”

“Don’t worry,” Xisuma chuckled, setting down a shulker box. “It can be a lot funner to watch sometimes; I’m just going to be part of the audience, too. I think Doc wanted you because he thinks he can bribe you.”

“He can not !”

Xisuma raised an eyebrow. “Area 77.”

“Oh, that’s not fair. I am completely unbiased!”

“And that was why you became their lawyer and not for all the cool experiments they had. I don’t think Cleo has forgiven you for defeating her in court.”

“No one can defeat Big Law,” Tubbo sniffed, faux-offended, and Xisuma laughed. “Well, I’ll show him!” He declared, crossing his arms. “I’ll just have to make sure he loses, then!” Xisuma blinked, and he laughed. “Kidding! Kidding!” Mostly .

“So you’re going?”

“Sure! It’s nice to see the Hermits all in one place, anyways. What’s in the shulker?”

Xisuma tilted his head teasingly. “What do you think? Someone had to get the supplies for our honey farm.”

Tubbo gaped. “You’re ready to build farms already?! Man, and I thought I was ahead of the game with just having my base halfway done.”

The armored man shrugged, looking about the partially completed build. “Well, you’ve certainly put more effort into this than me. Truly, your building skills are already improving. I love how you’re styling the roof with peaks like you are; it looks like it took a while.”

“My last house had a roof like that, too,” Tubbo reminded him, glancing up as well. It had become a tradition, of sorts, to build curved, peaked roofs onto his builds. Last season it had been one of the few things he’d built slowly to make look as good as possible. In all honesty, it was his own way of honoring the person who’d made it possible for him to come here, to have a life worth living once again. Rushing through the technique just felt disrespectful.

“Yes, but you’ve definitely gotten better.” Xisuma bent down over the shulker box, checking its contents. “Do you have any good ideas for where to make the bee farm? I’ll admit, I’ve been a bit too busy to scout out a good area.”

“Really? Then where’d you get these guys?”

“Tree farming in the desert.”

Tubbo snorted into his hand, and he could practically feel Xisuma’s embarrassment. “Well, you did say you hadn’t scouted out a good spot.”

“Indeed I did.”

“I can take a look around here and see what I can find. Meadows are supposed to be excellent places for farming bees, right?”

“Indeed it is,” Xisuma agreed. “Do you have plans for your megabase, yet?”

Tubbo nodded, grinning. “And trust me, it’s going to be awesome .”

............

Two days later, a chicken appeared in his base. Tubbo found it laying an egg in what was starting to become the base’s storage area, with one of his shirts nearly ripped to shreds in what appeared to be a makeshift nest.

There was a nametag wrapped around its leg. After some chicken wrangling and a few feathers to the face, he got a good look at it and realized there wasn’t a name written there, but a set of coordinates.

A set of coordinates rather far away, but who was he to turn down such an intriguing mystery?

With the chicken now renamed Wilbur and placed in a pen (he’d needed a chicken farm anyways), Tubbo set out that morning with a few supplies to find the spot he was looking for. After crossing a fair bit of forest and ocean, by the next day he’d found himself cutting his way through the underbrush of an overgrown jungle and wondering why in the world Stress had wanted to wait a week before going to get their elytra.

He pushed a few low-hanging vines out of the way, checking his communicator for the upteenth time. He was getting closer, now. This better be worth going out a few hundred chunks in the middle of nowhere—hey, wait a minute!

There was smoke in the distance. He could just make it out through the leaves, and now that he concentrated, he could smell it, too. Tubbo rushed forwards, pushing through the brush to see several man-made wooden pillars sticking out. As he pressed forwards, he made out a semi-stone floor, several chests, and a small fire in the middle, explaining the smoke.

“What is this?” He asked himself, looking around the place. The coordinates were right, and yet no one was here. Just this outpost in the middle of the jungle.

Tubbo walked around. There were some papers pinned to the wall, and a few dispensers lying around. Idly he pressed the buttons on them, already starting to form a plan to enact revenge on whoever made him travel over a day to get this place.

He pressed the button on the dispenser in the middle of the build and nearly got an arrow to the face.

Tubbo yelped, his reflexes, honed from a half year of training, the only thing saving him from a sudden death. A bell rang behind him, but it took him a few more moments to calm his racing heart.

“Not funny! You nearly took my head off!” He shouted to the jungle. Still, he didn’t leave, instead turning to the bell the arrow had his, examining it. Huh.

There were some cookies in one of the chests, probably left behind by whoever had actually built the place. He nibbled on it, only half hungry, as he tried to examine the place better.

“HERMIT CHALLENGES!”

Tubbo shrieked , dropping the remains of his cookie as the voice rang through the forest air. He looked around, trying to find the source, but found that he couldn’t.

“INITIATION!”

A diamond-clad figure dropped out of the vines above, landing with a firm thud on one of the ground dispensers. He nearly lost his balance before righting himself with a huff.

“Mumbo!” Tubbo exclaimed, a little annoyed but mostly impressed.

“INITIATION!” He shouted at the top of his lungs. “HERMIT CHALLENGES! YOU ARE BEING INDUCTED.”

“How long have you been up there?! It took me over a day to get here.”

“No matter, Mr. Tubbo! Congratulations! You’re in!”

“...Thanks?”

“Of course, my friend! You have been inducted into Hermit Challenges! Of course, you could have eaten the entire cookie—” he glanced down at the crumbs at Tubbo’s feet. “But besides that you have acted perfectly.”

“Wait, what is Hermit Challenges?” Tubbo asked, blinking. What? This version of Mumbo was almost nothing like the Mumbo he’d seen at Spawn a mere week and a half ago. Who used chickens to deliver messages? Or perch in a tree for supposed hours on end?

Okay, he had to admit, that last one was pretty funny.

“Oh, it’s a game I’ve made up,” Mumbo continued. “Iskall and I have already had a go at it, and I figured I’d invite you next.”

“...Alright, then. How do I play?”

“It’s simple! Write down three challenges and put them in the dispenser. Then we’ll pick one at random from each other.”

Mumbo reached into one of the chests on the ground, taking out a sheath of paper and passing three to him with a pen. Tubbo looked at him, and Mumbo grinned.

“Go on! I’m sure you’ll have something fun in that head of yours.”

Ah, he was right. Tubbo gave in with a smile, leaning back and thinking briefly about what he wanted to challenge Mumbo. A few ideas came to mind, and he quickly scribbled them down, pushing them into one of the two dispensers on the side of the small build, Mumbo doing the same.

“Alright, then!” Mumbo announced with a smile. “You go first.”

Tubbo stepped towards Mumbo’s dispenser and clicked the button, causing a slip of paper to slide out. He unrolled it, then read it out loud.

“‘Steal everyone’s front doors for the rest of the season.’ What? The whole season?!”

Mumbo laughed. “Oh, that one! Man, you got the hardest one from me!”

“Well, I’m sure it’s nothing compared to what you’ll get from me.”

“We’ll see,” Mumbo said with a chuckle.  He moved across the platform, and pressed the button the dispenser Tubbo had put his challenges in. The dispenser whirred, and then another slip of paper popped out. Mambo picked it up and read off of it, face contorting as he did so. “...‘Act like you don’t believe in the moon for the next two weeks, and claim the sky is a hologram put up by the SCA (Secret Chickens Agency) to keep us from seeing the real overlords- the sky chickens.’ What?”

Tubbo snickered at that, covering his mouth with one hand. Oh, he was proud of that one.

“No, seriously, this is awfully specific.”

“What? It’s funny!”

“Funny for you!” But Mumbo was smiling, and Tubbo grinned back at him.

“I’m going to be having a fun few weeks,” he giggled.

“So am I,” Mumbo agreed with a raised eyebrow, tucking the slip of paper away. He clapped Tubbo’s shoulder. “I suppose I’ll have to make up a good story to go with this prompt.”

“And I have some doors to steal!” Tubbo laughed.

“Whoever gets the first complaint in chat wins?”

“You’re on!”

[seokiloquy]

Paradise - Tendou Satori

AU: Regular/University 

Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.2k+

            The wind blew quickly through the trees outside the Sendai City Gymnasium. Boys of various statures stood in groups around the area wearing distinct uniforms that separated them from the rest. Amongst the mayhem of excited volleyball players, a girl stood gripping a binder to her chest. As she typed quickly into her phone the girl’s nose scrunched before looking around the main lobby of the building. Walking up to the fold-out desk by the entrance, she approached the two girls handing out pamphlets.

           “Have either of you seen a group of adults, wearing the same jacket as I am?” She asked, pinching her white jersey.

           The girls pause for a moment, their brows pushing together before handing her one of the pamphlets from the table. On the inside was a map of the building as well as a list of teams that would be participating. One of the girls stood up from her seat and leaned over the table.

           “Ya, I think I remember them talking about going in the middle of the stands to see everything,” she said pointing to the East side of the building.

           The girl nodded and gave the two a nod of thanks as she tucked the map into her binder. Huffing, she walked past the bustling players in the direction of her group.

           “Coach! You said to meet you in the park!” a yell rang above the voices in the stadium grabbing the attention of players and viewers alike.

           “Ah, (L/N). Sorry about that. The wind started to pick up and we decided to head inside. At least you found us. Do you have the info?” the man said. He wore a matching white jacket with the word ‘coach’ trailing down the side of his arm in red letters.

            “I do. A thank you would be nice, I’m the one that called all the schools to get their student information. That’s your job, Ito!”

           Ito chuckles but says nothing more as he leads (L/N) to their seats. With the binder tucked under her arm, she slips her hands into her pockets and takes a seat next to the other coaches and administrators to watch the players warm-up. As the whistles blew for their minute warning before the started, the head of the program spoke up.

           “Johzenji doesn’t have any third years, but keep an eye on their players for next year. Do you all have their papers?” Kawasaki asked as he spun a pen between his fingers. After receiving confirmation he went on, “Okay, one person per team for today. (L/N), you go with Ito. We will all watch the last game together and discuss it later when we go to eat.”

           “Eh? Wakatoshi, do you recognize those jackets? I haven’t seen them before.”

           Wakatoshi looked to where his teammate was pointing. A group that dispersed themselves along the edge of the stands were wearing white and red jackets that he wasn’t familiar with.

           “I’m not sure, Tendou. Go ask the coach.”

           Pouting, the third year swung his legs in the direction of his coaches, humming a dejected tune as he went. They sat on their designated bench talking to each other slowly as they watched their opposing team warm up. Washijo’s stare deepened the lines on his face and as he shifted his gaze towards the spiked redhead the teen shivered. Instead of speaking to the old man directly, Tendou turned on his heel to look at the team’s assistant coach.

           “Hey, Saito,” he started, swinging his arm to point at one of the people in the jackets. “Who are those guys? I’ve never seen them before.”

           Saito adjusted his glasses before staring up into the stands.

           “Ah,” he paused, “I believe they are the ones from the volleyball program at Miyagi University. They’re scouting.”

           “Scouting?” Tendou blinked.

           Washijo tightened his arms across his chest with a huff, “Those idiots don’t know what to look for, they search for outliers.”

           Saito let out a weak laugh wincing internally. I went to Miyagi U.

           “Washijo, you do know Miyagi U is home to one of the top teams in Japan. It wouldn’t be wise to put incorrect information in the minds of your subordinates.”

           Tendou slouched, waiting for the younger coach to continue.

           “Tendou, they’re looking for talented players to give scholarships to. If someone gets one they either get to pay less for university or get to go for free so long as they abide by the rules of the scholarship.”

           Tendou didn’t say anything at first but gave a small grin with a huff as he bowed to his coaches, “Let’s be sure to with this round then, hmm?”

           “So, (L/N), what did you think of the players today?” Kawasaki asked before taking a bite from the meat that was laid out in front of him.

           The group ate in a small restaurant with people talking loudly over their meals about whatever was going on in their lives. Separated from the crowd -as per the admin’s request- they all sat lazily around a table with their shoes off and jackets draped across their shoulders. The thin paper wall didn’t do all that much in terms of blocking the sound from coming into their little alcove but muffled it enough to decrease the likelihood of distractions.

           Unzipping the top of the collar of her jacket, the girl smiled. “Everyone was amazing, so I’m really happy I got to come and watch. I wrote down some of the players that I thought stood out.”

           Reaching for her binder, the (H/C) pulled out a small notebook. She flipped the pages before handing it over to the volleyball admin. As he turned through the pages, Kawasaki took note that the student in front of him had taken during the girl’s tournament as well. Looking at the list of players of the boys she had seemingly kept her eye on, one seemed to stand out.

           “Tendou Satori from Shiratorizawa? What made him pique your interest?”

            The girl rubbed her thigh, letting her tumb dig into the muscles that froze in position. Taking a bite from the food on her plate, she used the opportunity to think of a justified answer.

           “Satori is sharp, he may not be a prodigy but he’s honed his reaction time to the point of a sword. Outstanding middle blockers are hard to find because they blend in so much. They aren’t flashy like most of the people you scout. But when you find a passionate blocker or any player for the matter, even if you’re just observing from the sidelines their energy becomes contagious.”

          “Satori? Are you familiar with him?” Ito asked as he set his chopsticks down.

           The girl gives her coaches an awkward smile, “Ah, not really. We were acquainted with each other in elementary school. He’s hard to forget, but I doubt he remembers me.”

            “Ah, Tendou!” Saito yelled out to the third year as he ran around with his teammates in the large gym of Shiratorizawa, “There’s a letter here for you!”

           Tendou stumbled as he tried to stop his momentum looking over with a tilted head. His coach wore a large smile as he waved a thin folder in the air. The sight only confused him more. He took hold of the white binder and read the words that were written in bold red print along the front of the cover. His confusion isn’t eliminated when he opens the mail up though. He looked up at Saito.

           “I didn’t even apply. I never planned..”

           Saito’s smile dropped when he saw the look of distress that tore on the typically happy boy’s face, “Satori, I know your plans for when school is finished. But I think that this would be a great opportunity for you. You’ve always called it your ‘paradise’”

            “Tendoou,” Ushijima had walked up behind the middle blocker with his hands flat at his sides, “why don’t you call them?”

           Tendou hummed before asking Saito if he could take a moment and collect his thoughts. It was just over a month ago after they lost their match against Karasuno. He remembers laying down on the glossy wood floor of the large gym, twisting his hips and pushing his crossing knee into the floor along with the rest of the team for their cool down.

           “I’m going to quit volleyball after high school,” he said to Ushijima, “I’ll be watching you on TV and brag that we were best buds.”

           He bit his lip as he looked at the binder in his hands, reading through the various sheets that had been presented to him.

Dear Mister Satori Tendou,

           Congratulations! On behalf of Miyagi University, I am pleased to offer you admission to the Volleyball (Athletic) - Competitive Sports and Health program.

           He looked at the page on the inside cover.

Dear Mister Satori Tendou,

           In recognition of your outstanding academic and athletic achievements, you have been selected and offered a Full-Ride Scholarship award to Miyagi University.

           Tendou looked at the personalized contact information at the bottom of the papers and picked up his phone.

           The volleyball division at Miyagi U was situated in one building. It had excessively large gym floors, that in all likelihood could hold four courts each when there were only two on either side. Between the gym space for the two teams was a raised flat platform for viewing practices at a higher angle that was supported by a mostly glass room that was used as an office for the coaches so they could still see the players while doing work. On either side of the partial wall, the two teams were stretching after a long day of practice when the phone in the office rang.

           “(Y/N),” called Ito as he stood with the other coaches on the platform, “Could you get that?”

           (Y/N) sent a thumbs up in the coaches’ direction, knowing that they were discussing the applicants they received for the program. Picking up the phone, the player continued with stretches as she talked.

           “Miyagi U Volleyball Office, how can I help you?”

           “Uh, hi. I received a scholarship from your program when I didn’t even apply? I just wanted to ask some questions about it?”

           “Ah, of course, could I get your name?” (Y/N) asked as she reached for a pen and paper.

           “Tendou Satori.”

           “Ah! Satori. From Shiratorizawa Academy,” she smiled as she quickly noted things down.

           “Do you know me?”

           “Well, somewhat I guess. I’m (L/N), 1st year at Miyagi U. We met in elementary school, and I was the one that put your name forward for a possible scholarship. So, Congratulations.”

           At his end of the line, Tendou began picking around stray pebbles as he combed through his memory for the name (L/N). He couldn’t remember much about elementary school except the times he played volleyball but Tendou wasn’t able to think of a reason to not believe the girl on the phone.

           “Sorry, I don’t remember much about elementary school. But could you explain this scholarship thing to me?” He asked.

           She noticed that his voice had a way of picking up and dropping as if his vocal cords were a roller coaster.

           (Y/N) smiled into the phone trying not to laugh at the thought, “Don’t worry about it. Anyways, scholarships from my program go out to about six people every year, they are either partial or full-ride scholarships depending on the group. Students don’t apply for these scholarships because they are scouting scholarships. They are chosen by the coaches after watching games and deciding who they want on their teams, so no application is required.”

           “And you put my name forward?” Tendou paused, “Why?”

           There was a bit of silence on your end as you thought of an answer. Tendou waited patiently hoping that your response could brush away the stress that had been building on his shoulders.

           “Well, I only gave a recommendation. Our school looks for special talents, and it was my coaches that chose you. But, as I watched from the stands, I could see just how happy you were to be playing and the passion you put into it. Like you were in your little world. I want to keep watching you play.”

           When Tendou’s parents found out about the scholarship they were, to his surprise, ecstatic. Although his family wasn’t low on money, Tendou had planned to start working after high school and not spend money on university. His parents were initially against the idea.

           “What are you waiting for? Accept it!” His mother yelled at him.

           So, come April, a week into spring break, Tendou was standing at the main entrance of Miyagi U’s campus with a feeling of nostalgia as he remembered his first day at Shiratorizawa. With a suitcase at his side and a bag on his back, he takes his first step onto the school delicately placed bricks.

           “Hey! Satori! Glad you could make it!”

           Pausing mid-step, he turns his head to the call of his name with his brows pushed upward, “(Y/N)?”

           “Okay, Line up!”

           Midway through April came the new year and with it came new teammates. Tendou wasn’t used to being separated from Ushijima, who was currently attending a school in Tokyo. But despite his immediate qualms about attending university, all his teammates shared a similar goal, making it easier to get along with them. Though a few did occasionally send him teasing glares as retaliation for beating them in previous years.

           As he stood in line with the rest of his teammates and listened to his coach -Honda- explain the warm-ups that would be led by their captain, Tendou looked through the glass walls of the office to where the girl’s team stood. (L/N), who was now a second year, smiled up to her coach as she went through the same spiel that Honda was doing for their first years. Trying to keep his head tilted towards his coach, Tendou let his naturally wide eyes wander in the direction of the female wing spiker.

           “Tendou, pay attention,” His teammate whispered as he dug his elbow into the red-heads side, grabbing his full attention. “We’re warming up now.”

           Tendou nodded quickly before looking back through the glass walls. The girls had already started.

           Only a few lights were left on in the gym. Focusing solely on the boy’s side where Tendou was hard at work. Despite being a middle blocker -and a good one at that- all players need to be well rounded enough to stay on for a full rotation. As Tendou was on his own, he worked on his serves continuously until he had to collect them all again.

           “Looks like everybody left for the party. Mind if I join in?”

           Coming out of the office, likely walking through from the girl’s side, (L/N) stands on the edge of the court with her bag lazily hanging off the tips of her fingers. Letting the bag drop, she lifts her hand, asking for a ball. Catching the ball as it flew in her direction, she ducks under the white line of the net.

           “Scared, Satori?” She smiled.

            From where he stood in the center of the court, he could see the change in his perspective in his mind. After regular midnight practices in an empty gym with no one but themselves to keep each other company, a once acquaintance turned stranger had transformed into his greatest ally. Looking at her now, the regular gym lights seemed to act like a spotlight giving him tunnel vision. Tendou gave her a curled grin.

           “I understand you (Y/N). I have no reason to be scared.”

           Practicing spikes and blocks gradually turned into a poor attempt at a 1v1 game that ended with them dropping to the floor in front of the net (She had won 17-15). Panting heavily with their limbs spread wide the two of them looked up at the lights that seemed to become brighter as time went on.

           “It's 11:48 pm. Jeez Satori, you truly are a monster.” (L/N) laughed.

           “I used to hate that nickname,” He said joining the girl in her fit, “But now I think it makes me even more intimidating.”

           That didn’t help to quell their laughter.

           “Intimidating? Satori you are the most childlike person I know, like a cute kitten knocking things over.” She panted.

            “Cute eh?”

           “Shut up.” She laughed again.

           “(Y/N), what did you think of me in elementary school?”

           The girl sat up, crossing her legs with a groan and turning to face the thin boy who still laid flat on the wood floor.

           “I didn’t know you well, no one did. But, I always thought that your talent and drive to play volleyball was admirable, something to see, you know? Either way, I don’t think either of us would be here now if you had never picked up a ball.”

            “MI-YAGI DAIGAKU!”

            The first official game of the year in Miyagi U’s official stadium had members from every sports team come out to support the boy’s team. Rivalling schools screamed at the top of their lungs, trying to drown out the other team’s support with their yells. The girl’s team sat in the front row of the seats, leading chants as they pointed fingers across the court to their enemy. (Y/N), although she chanting along and partaking in school spirit, kept her eyes on the game, focusing on a particular middle blocker who was easily staring down his opponents.

           The game was at match point with Miyagi U in the lead, but the points kept climbing and with it the chant of players’ names grew louder. Every play was a chance to win. The ball soared over the net into arms the opponent’s libero, sending it directly to the setter with perfect accuracy. On the other side of the net, the players in Miyagi’s white jersey shuffled to their defensive position. Tendou, along with the front line Setter and Wing Spiker, set up a triple block to go against their Ace’s accurate spikes. Tendou watched the setter carefully along with the other wing spikers. Seeing his eyes dash across the net, Tendou followed, taking his two teammates with him. Coming off the Setter’s hands the ball followed the same path as Tendou towards the Ace’s oncoming spike. Mid-air, the spiker looked over the net for an opening only to make eye contact with an ecstatic looking Tendou. The ball hit the court.

           As everyone cheered (Y/N) took her vice grip off of the railing before running down to the entrance of the gym. Tendou was celebrating with his teammates, who weren’t afraid to smack his back or ruffle his hair within the chaos. (Y/N) easily caught his attention though -along with everyone else’s- as she screamed out his name while barreling toward him. Tendou, surprised, opened out his arms to catch the hyper girl before she fell.

           (Y/N) threw a toothy grin up at the younger boy as he easily carried her around, “You’re a monster, you know that?”

           Tendou only held her tighter.

I like to think that (Within the AU) players that come from schools with a particular talent, Date Tech and Ubugawa for example, are the ones that typically get scouted to Miyagi U. But prodigies like Nishinoya, or quirky players like Tendou and Hinata do as well. - Bacon

Posted: 02/07/2020

[redshirtgal]

At the beginning of “Catspaw” Lt. Jackson opens communications with Uhura and says “One to beam up, Enterprise!” Shortly after Captain Kirk and Dr. McCoy reach the transporter room, Jackson begins to materialize and then falls flat to the floor without moving a muscle. It almost hurts to watch, but it is just one of the perfectly executed stunts performed by Jay Jones. Jones recalls that at the time, he had never watched the show. So when he received his copy of the script, he was puzzled by the phrase “beam up.” It took until the next day for him to find out after he had flagged down a young boy on a bicycle and asked. By the way, look at Shatner’s quick reaction as Jones tumbles past his feet. Some fancy footwork there, Captain!

But this was not the only place you saw him during this episode. During the scene just after Korob dies trying to help Kirk and Spock escape, the two are attacked by Sulu, Scotty, and Bones himself - all under the control of Sylvia, of course. In the photo above, that is not Dr. McCoy you see attempting to swing a morning-star. That is his stunt double, Jay Jones. Jay claimed that Gene Roddenberry took a liking to him and sent the word down that he should be given all the work he wanted.

Jay played a number of other crewmen in the series, and several times his stuntman experience came in handy. In the redshirt bloodbath episode known as “The Apple,” he appeared as Ensign Mallory. The hapless young man was not there when Spock first found out the rocks were explosive. While scouting, he manages to find another one the hard way and is killed. This was one of the two episodes where Jones suffered serious injuries. In this case, he had even lobbied director Joe Pevney to do the stunt, saying he did not want to do it “the Mickey Mouse way.” Pevney refused the request at first because of the danger and then relented. According to Jay, there was a jumper trampoline buried under the ground that he was supposed to hit and then the explosive would go off. However, the special effects person timed it just a split second too late. In his own words, “The force hit me in the stomach, burned my side, blew the skin off my rib cage and impacted all this dirt into my sinuses. I couldn’t open my eyes or breathe.” Still, he told an interviewer that it could have been a lot worse even though he did wind up in an emergency room. (The explosion also caused short term hearing loss in both Shatner and Nimoy as well as permanent tinnitus). Most of his roles did not involve much dialogue, but he had his largest number of lines in this episode. 

Actually, his worst injuries on the set occurred on another episode, ”Who Mourns for Adonais?” This time he was doubling for James Doohan as Scotty. The first injury occurred when Apollo slaps Scotty and Jay had to do a backflip over the stone table shown in the above photo.  The first time, he hit the corner, so the table was chained down for the next attempt.  This time, he caught the table’s edge in the kidneys. Already sore from that injury, he had to do another stunt where he was strapped into a wire vest, raised up six feet in the air and then propelled backward.  In the stunt industry, it’s known as a neckbreaker.  However, the wire pulley yanked him four or five yards farther than planned and he went through the wall, striking his head on the concrete floor.  He was taken to the hospital with a concussion. And actually Jay did have a stroke of good fortune - he narrowly missed another prop which could have caused an even more serious injury (according to The Star Trek Compendium). Again, he brushed off the injury as not all that bad.

 Despite these injuries Jay Jones continued as Scotty’s stunt double for two years. Above you see him encountering a railing on the bridge in “The Changeling.” (Scotty certainly got smacked around a lot, didn’t he?) And he would often double for other guest stars. More on that later. In the book Science Fiction Television Series, Jay claimed that he was the unofficial stunt coordinator for The Original Series. He would come up with new stunts and work with the directors and cameramen on how best to implement them in certain episodes. Jay complimented Star Trek on calling back the same stunt people to work again because they all were familiar with the production staff and had built a rapport with them and each other. He said in some TV series, the director sometimes asked the impossible and could have possibly gotten someone killed. On the Star Trek set, he knew the directors cared about the stunt workers.

And he continued as an extra in episodes during that time, including one as the gangster Mirt in “A Piece of the Action” and several as an engineer. You would think he’d want to stay as far away from a redshirt as he could after his injuries.

Jay got to appear as a Klingon three times during his time on Star Trek. His first appearance was as Tige Andrew’s stunt double in the role of Kras in “Friday’s Child.” (left) And he doubled for Ned Romero as Krell in “A Private Little War.” (top right). He donned the Klingon costume one last time as one of Kang’s crewmen in “Day of the Dove.”

And what does Pavel Chekov have to do with this story? Jay Jones says that there was a push to add some more recurring characters at the time he made his first appearance on “Catspaw.” In fact, they asked him if he would try out some accents in a few test shots. However, he had recently tried a French accent in a stage production and botched it terribly, so he refused. Only later did he realize he would have been trying out for the role that eventually became that of Chekov. Oh, well.... at least he didn’t have to wear that terrible wig until his own hair grew in.

Jimmy (”Jay”) D. Jones came to Hollywood after being in the rodeo circuit. His first work as a stuntman on television was in The Man From U.N.C.L.E. where he was often Robert Vaughn’s stunt double. He also had an acting part in one episode - that of  Professor Walter Powers in the episode “Yo-ho-ho and a Bottle of Rum.” This was the job he left when he joined Star Trek. (credit to Brad Fillipone for finding the above photos for me)

Jay came from good stuntman stock. His dad was Carl Pitti, a very well known stuntman/actor in the industry who had worked on such shows as The High Chaparral. He was Henry Darrow’s double in his role of Manolito for an episode.

Interesting side note: Carl Pitti was a fan of The Original Series and watched it religiously. But he was aghast when he watched his son get thrown in the air by the mistimed explosion in “The Apple.” Jay said it literally made his dad sick to his stomach.

Jay often appeared in the same series as his father, starting with The Man from U.N.C.L.E. After Star Trek ended, he was also stuntman for The High Chaparral and appeared in the episode “Alliance” as Lt. Cooper. (Photo above)

Jay appeared on other Westerns as well. In fact, he doubled for Slim Pickens in a brutal bullwhipping scene in the 1967 movie Rough Night in Jericho. He used the same bullwhipping skills against Dan Blocker (Hoss) in a 1971 episode of Bonanza titled “Kingdom of Fear.”

One of his last acting jobs was in Kung Fu, playing a demon Caine encounters in the spiritual world during the episode “One Step to Darkness.” If you want to watch that segment of the show, here is a link. https://youtu.be/EDmvigzLJHw

In 1977, Jones left stunt work and acting for the racquetball courts. He began playing the amateur circuit in the 1972-73 area. Despite getting off to a rough start, in 1975 he won the national amateur division at Las Vegas. From there, he began competing in the pros and over the years had a decent showing. Keep in mind he was in his thirties when he started and most of the pros were a lot younger. He did win the 1981 U.S. National Singles Championship for his age group of 35+. Jay was interviewed in 1977 by the Tucson Daily Citizen after he had advanced to the semifinals of of the Tucson Pro-Am Racquetball Tournament. He admitted to using a mini-receiver which emitted a steady hum that helped him concentrate. But it also allowed him to hear advice from a friend who was women’s pro player as well. The interviewer went on to mention that Jay Jones was also a hypnotist and psychologist. Now how amazing is that?

Above photo - Hall of Famer Ed Remen and Jay Jones at the men’s semi-finals. Unknown what year, but from the website where it appeared, most likely around 1981. Jay is on the right.

Over the years, Jay Jones seems to be quite active, appearing at conventions for The High Chaparral (above he appears on an interview panel for the 50th anniversary) And I am not positive about this, but he may be the reporter whose byline is Jay Jones in at least two articles for the Los Angeles Times. In a 2013 article, he reports on a charity racquetball event. And in a story dated this past May, the same person reports on a rodeo event. What other person do we know who has experience in both activities?

Jay Jones!

[ledenews]

Dreams Coming True at The Highlands Sports Complex

There were 2,000 wrestlers, 125 basketball teams, and two soccer clubs from several states that competed at The Highlands Sports Complex. Last month, right? In March? Wrong. In fact, those statistics were tallied just this past weekend. General Manager Harvey Greenidge reported the Viper Pit Wrestling Nationals, the Slam Jam Basketball Tournament, and the Beadling and Victory soccer clubs all competed inside and outside the $30-million, 200-square-foot facility that opened less than four years ago in the middle of The Highlands. After all, there are six basketball/volleyball courts, full-sized indoor and outdoor turfed fields, four batting cages/pitch tunnels, a play-climb area, an arcade, a café, meeting and event spaces, and a second-floor mezzanine level so parents, coaches, and college scouts can watch from above. The interior of The Highlands Sports Complex can be configured in many ways for different events. This supercenter of sports in Ohio County employs around 100 employees with 10-15 full-time positions, and this past weekend more than 5,000 individuals entered and exited the building. So, OK, just a busy couple of days, right? What about this upcoming weekend? Well, Greenidge predicts much the same foot traffic for the Wheeling Area Chamber Home & Life Expo, the KC Productions Spring Craft Show, and the 2024 OVA Country Roads Volleyball Classic. “For this time of year,” Greenidge said with a smile, “this is normal for us. We typically have two or three tournaments or programs running at a time on Saturdays and Sundays, and we’re hoping for much more this summer. We want to keep raising the bar because we know our team and this facility can handle it. “People from across the country have visited this facility since we opened, and that speaks to the quality of what we have here,” he said. “Plus, we’re surrounded by so many stores and restaurants, so it just makes sense for the folks who come here.” The Highlands Sports Complex is an enormous structure in which fields, courts, and batting cages are located. The Commercial Count Just ask her and Christine Thomas from Quaker Steak & Lube will tell you. “When The (Highlands) Sports Complex is busy, we’re really busy here at Quaker Steak & Lube,” the eatery’s marketing manager said. “It’s really easy to explain. The sports complex is the best thing that could have happened for us after the pandemic, there’s no doubt about that. “We see the teams and the parents from all over the place,” she said. “I didn’t know what to expect when I first heard about it, but what a great thing it is for us here at The Highlands.” There also is a multi-purpose turf field on the exterior of The Highlands Sports Complex. The multi-purpose development site right along Interstate 70 has been growing since Cabela’s Outfitters opened in 2004, and the sports complex added a tourism dimension that packs restaurants and fills hotel rooms 12 months a year.   “It’s a terrific facility for a lot of different reasons, and it’s become a great source of traffic for all of the other businesses at The Highlands,” said Don Nickerson, the president of the Ohio County Commission. “I think it's a huge benefit to the restaurants and the hotels and even to the retail operations up there. I would have never imagined the sports complex could become what it is today, but the people who were commissioners before had that vision and it’s been very successful just like The Highlands has been through the years. “From a personal standpoint, when my daughter is playing basketball or my son is shooting archery, we always visit other businesses at The Highlands before or after their competitions,” he said. “And you always see the kids in their uniforms and with their parents at the businesses and restaurants, so there’s no doubt the sports complex is having a direct impact that’s been very positive.” Supply, Demand, and The Bottom Line “Incredible.” “Awesome.” “Amazing.” The Highlands Sports Complex is pleasing and popular among AAU tournament directors, sports camp directors, exposition organizers, and professional franchises like the Wheeling Miners, and the one comment the facility’s general manager hears most is, “Sure wish we had one of these back home.” “I hear that from our out-of-town people all of the time. Everyone who comes here wants to take it home with them because it’s a very nice facility,” Greenidge said. “But these facilities are regional so the children who live locally really are the lucky ones, and we do have a lot of local student-athletes that come here because of everything you can do on the inside. Birthday parties for local children are very popular at The Highlands Sports Complex. “The Highlands Sports Complex is really a great place for birthday parties, too, because we have a great arcade and the climbing area,” he said. “Kids have a great time here, that’s for sure.” Dollars and sense, Commissioner Nickerson explained, will determine when expansion should take place. “There have been conversations about what could be next at the sports complex and we have had requests for some outdoor baseball fields,” Nickerson explained. “And we’ve heard about ice and about a fitness center, too, and right now it’s a matter of economics because the sports complex still doesn’t pay for itself. The (Ohio) County Commission still subsidizes it. “And we knew that was going to be the case for a while after it opened, and we were told it would be probably a five-year break-even point and it’s close to four years at this point,” the commissioner added. “So, it’s just a matter of the economics when it comes to expansion.” The large arcade at the sports complex adds new games as they become available. Read the full article

[trufflerabbit13]

A Dove’s Ripped Wings: Chapter 6 | Ex

prologue / 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 /

Word count: 6.8 K

🏐🏐THIRD PERSON P.O.V.🏐🏐

The Ibato family were all frozen at the dinner table, staring at their youngest member as she brought her chopsticks to her mouth. She was the only one who moved, continuing her meal as if she hadn't dropped the bomb on them.

"C-Chi-chan, c-c-can you repeat that? I think I'm g-getting old and my hearing i-isn't as good as it u-used to be," Minako stuttered, her eyes shaking as she stared at her only daughter with a weak smile.

Chiaki blinked, looking up at her mother who sat across from her in confusion, her head tilted to the side.

"I joined the volleyball team."

Chiaki flinched as a loud clang rang out, her eyes shooting to Taiga who dropped his bowl he had in his hand, the rice spilling all over his front. Kouga, who sat next to their mother, choked on his miso soup, a wet gurgle leaving his mouth as he smacked his chest with his fist.

Minako's lips trembled before she burst into tears.

Chiaki sat in her chair, frozen in place as she watched the chaos that happened in front of her. Taiga was frozen stiff like a statue although steaming rice was covering him, Taiga wheezing as he tried to dislodge the tofu stuck in his pipe, and Minako sobbing while she fumbled with her phone.

Chiaki didn't realize Minako was calling someone until the familiar ring entered her ears, and she heard it get picked up with a "hello," a voice she immediately recognized as her father.

Hiroto's eyes widened, startled as his wife's sobbing face came into the sight as soon as he picked up the FaceTime call.

"H-Honey? What happened, are you okay?" The man questioned quickly in concern, his eyebrows knitting together. He only gets a blubbering response that makes his worry spike for his wife.

Minato, who sat across from him at the dinner table, looked up from his food, eyebrows raised up in interest, sending his father a questioning look.

"H-Hiroto....! Chi-chan....! C-Chi-chan!" Minako cried out Chiaki's nickname, making the two men in Tokyo share eye contact in concern, thinking something had happened to their youngest family member that was in Miyagi, hours away.

"Honey, calm down. Did something happen to Chiaki?" Hiroto asked gently, inwardly panicking, seeing how his wife was a mess on the screen, nose red as tears ran down her face.

"C-CHI-CHAN SAID SHE JOINED THE VOLLEYBALL TEAM!!!"

Hiroto and Minato froze, the later dropping his chopsticks, it rolling on the floor. Hiroto himself almost dropped his phone in his soup, fumbling with it in panic.

"W-What....?" Minato questioned with his tone a few octaves lower than usual. He's immediately up on his feet, rounding around the dinner table so he can peer into the phone in his shaking father's hand.

Chiaki has her eyes closed, the female pinching the bridge of her nose tiredly as the chaos continues at her house. Kouga was recovering from his near-death experience, the male wheezing as he wiped at his mouth that dripped with miso soup. She helped Taiga clean up, trying to place the rice grains that stuck onto him back into the bowl to get thrown out. Minako was still crying, looking like a mess.

Hiroto and Minato, who were in their house in Tokyo, tried to grasp the situation back at their other home in Miyagi, their mouths opening and closing. Their mind tried to process what they heard from Minako.

Both males blinked as the phone was taken away from the crying woman, the face of Chiaki replacing her.

"Hi dad, Minato-nii-san," Chiaki greets, smiling wearily, turning away from her family that was in the same room as her.

"Chi-chan, is what mom said true?" Minato quickly questioned before properly greeting her. Chiaki's eldest brother peered into the phone, stealing it away from his father. Seeing this, Chiaki blinked before nodding. She then flinched as she heard a loud wail from her phone, watching as Minato looked equally as startled as she felt.

"M-My baby girl taking part in something to do with volleyball a-again? I-I'm so t-touched!" Hiroto cried out, his loud wails echoing. Minato grimaced at the noise, his nose scrunching up briefly. His eyes widened as he watched as Hiroto began to stumble around.

"D-Dad?! What are you doing?!" The dark-haired male questioned, standing up to stop his father, who began to stuff a backpack.

With tears and snot running down his face, Hiroto responded, "h-how can I stay here when my princess decides something i-important like that! I need to go home and celebrate! We need to celebrate Minato!"

Minato felt a headache threatening to attack his head. With one hand, he gripped his father, stopping the large man. However, Minato can't help but grit his teeth, straining his muscles to stop Hiroto, who was built like bricks. "Dad, you can't! You have a meeting tomorrow morning and an important practice match with your team in the afternoon. And don't bother lying about it, I talked to Hirugami-kun today, so I know!"

Chiaki watched this with a cold look. Her gaze shifted to her family who was in the same room as her. Not much has changed; the three still trying to recover from their shock. Her eyes then moved back to the phone screen, her brother struggling to hold down their father, trying to stop him from taking the bullet train back to Miyagi.

"Dad, I'll be mad if you come back. You know I don't like it when you're irresponsible," Chiaki spoke. She was able to see that her words made Hiroto freeze, the man visibly shrinking back in sadness. Chiaki was almost sure that if her father had dog ears, they would have been flat against his head, his tail tucked between his legs.

"Chi-chan...." Hiroto pitifully called out his daughter's name, looking heartbroken. But Chiaki paid no mind to him, her attention on her eldest brother, who seemed to look relieved.

Minato sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose for a brief second. However, he recovers quickly, a small gentle smile on his face as he looks into his younger sister's face through the screen of the phone.

"Chi-chan, I don't know what happened back in Miyagi, but I'm very proud of you. When you have time, can you call me and tell me the whole story? I would love to hear it," Minato's brown eyes that are droopy like her own are warm.

Chiaki returns the smile, her own eyes narrowing in fondness, "for sure, Minato-nii-san. I trust that you have everything under control over there?"

Hearing this, Minato's face scrunches up briefly before nodding. Chiaki holds back a laugh, her eyes shifting to the dinner table of her home. It seemed like the twins and mother had calmed down enough to clean up the mess they made.

"Alright, I'll talk to you soon, Chi-chan. I miss you and love you," Minato sweetly says, the corner of his eyes crinkling, just like the way Hiroto's does when he smiles.

Chiaki whispers her own goodbye before placing the phone on the table. With a sigh, she rolls the sleeve of the sweater she wears, moving to help clean up the mess and see what can be saved from their dinner.

                   🏐🏐TUESDAY AFTER SCHOOL🏐🏐

"I'm glad you were able to get an okay from the school nurse," Daichi comments as he stands next to Chiaki.

Chiaki nods in silent agreement. She was glad too. Yesterday afternoon, she had not gone to the volleyball team's practice after school because she had to speak to the school nurse about joining the volleyball team. Of course, the nurse had put up a fight, seeing as Chiaki was of tremendous help. But eventually, she gave in, although somewhat reluctantly.

Now she stood next to Daichi and Sugawara in front of the bus, making sure everything was set. On her upper arm, she had a red cloth band that signified her as a medic, something she proudly wears.

During the weekend, Takeda had emailed the inter-high representatives. And it was quickly decided that when the tournament comes around, Chiaki will work as one of the many medic volunteers around the stadium. When Karasuno has their own games, she will be on break and be allowed to be on the court with the coaches and manager. And during the other times, she will be working, standing at standby, watching other games just in case there is an injury.

Chiaki didn't mind that. Especially seeing as it gave her volunteer and experience hours she can use for university. Plus, she'll be able to scout other schools.      

Daichi made troubled eye contact with Sugawara, the silver-haired male seeming to be holding in a laugh. The two males looked down at their black club jacket. Attached to it is a hand, Chiaki holding onto the cloth and Daichi holding back the need to comment on it. Sugawara, on the other hand, found the whole thing funny because it seemed like Chiaki was doing it without even realizing it.

Both males recall yesterday afternoon after practice when Kageyama had spoken to them. The first year had warned them about Chiaki's tendency of holding hands and commented that it'll likely be one of them who would be at the receiving end of her affection seeing as they were closest to her. Neither of them minded, but a small part of them felt flustered at the thought.

All the members slowly climbed onto the bus, leaving the three of them being the last ones to be outside. A mischievous gleam flashed in Sugawara's eyes as his hand moved to wrap around Chiaki's, making the girl blink in surprise. She stared at his hand for a moment before her eyes went to her other hand that still gripped onto Daichi's jacket. At that moment, she seemed to realize what she was doing, looking a bit taken aback and a bit bashful.

"Oh... I'm so-"

"It's okay if you want to hold hands, Aki-Chan! Daichi nor I are bothered by it," Sugawara assured with a beam before pulling her along, entering the bus. Daichi followed after them with a small smile, taking a seat near the front, sitting beside Chiaki.

Sugawara had claimed the window seat, seeming to be in a good mood, his hand still holding Chiaki. Little did he know that with his words, he had opened the doors that Chiaki was reluctant to do so herself, and from now on, she wasn't going to hesitate to hold hands with either of them seeing as he had given her the green light.

"Ah, Aki-senpai, here," Kageyama spoke up from the seat beside them, rumbling through his gym bag before pulling out a bottle of ginger ale and a small packet of pills. Sugawara and Daichi eyed the items with an eyebrow raised, while Chiaki looked relieved, taking it with a smile and nod.

"Kageyama, what are those for?" Daichi questioned, watching as Chiaki popped a pill in, swallowing it down with the soda.

Kageyama frowns, making sure to watch Chiaki swallow the pills before speaking. "Aki-senpai gets motion sickness from bus rides. Having those helps a bit, and I remembered last night."

This makes both Sugawara and Daichi look at the female beside them in concern.

"She should be fine now, though. She'll probably feel a bit nauseous, but because she took those, she should be fine. But it really is strange, it's only for buses" the raven-haired setter comments matter of factly, "she's fine on cars and other moving vehicles. But she always feels sick on buses."

"I probably can't stand boats either," Chiaki says before getting comfortable in the seat. She grimaces as the bus begins to move, Chiaki leaning her head against Daichi's shoulder as she closes her eyes. Said male flinches for a brief second before relaxing, Sugawara snickering in response. The silver-haired male had a feeling his friend was going to take a bit to get used to the skin contact with the girl, but he knew Daichi would eventually.

Sugawara sits up a bit as he hears a commotion from the back, Tanaka trying to hype and cheer up Hinata, who was abnormally nervous for today's practice match.

"Oi, Hinata! Have some pocky! That'll lighten you up a bit! Her-what the heck with that face!" Tanaka gasped as he took a good look at the ginger, flinching at the dark circles underneath the first-year's eyes.

Hinata blinks, his eyes almost lifeless. "Ehh? Ah, I kinda didn't sleep last night..." Hinata admits before covering his mouth with his hands, "c-can we open the window...? If we open it, I'll be-" The poor boy isn't able to finish his sentence as he disperses his stomach's content on his victim.

Chiaki kept her eyes closed with her eyebrows furrowed, "Suga-San, please open the window before the smell comes to the front of the bus and makes me even sicker..." She weakly whispered, the silver-haired male immediately doing as she said.

Daichi petted her silver-head in pity, "Aki-chan, take a nap if you can. I'll wake you up when we get there."

In response, the female nods in understanding, burrowing her face into Daichi's upper arm and letting her conscious go.

                    The silver-haired female adjusted the white face mask on her face, turning to Kageyama, who watched her silently.

"How is it?" She questioned, dusting off the black Karasuno tracksuit she wore that matched with Shimizu and the other club members. Kageyama nodded, his arms crossed over his chest.

"I wouldn't recognize you immediately, Aki-senpai. With your new hair color and half your face covered, it's hard to recognize you as long as you don't speak, and people don't get a good look of your eyes," the setter reassured, giving her a thumbs up.

This makes Chiaki sign in relief. Her gaze shifts to where the others were gathered. Hinata was apologizing multiple times to Tanaka, who had got dressed into a extra pair of clean shorts, typing his dirtied pair into a plastic bag to take home and wash.

Kageyama and Chiaki approach the team, they eyeing the silver-haired female in confusion and curiosity in their gaze.

"Why are you wearing a face mask, Aki-san?" Ennoshita questioned, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion, "are you feeling alright?" He question, growing concerned for his fellow second-year's health.

Chiaki opens her mouth to assure that she's fine when most of them look at her in worry. But before she could, she's beat by Kageyama.

"She's hiding her face to go unnoticed by her ex," Kageyama answered as if it was the most obvious thing have a stoic expression.

"WHAT?!" The boys all yell in shock, their mouth hanging open before looking at Chiaki to confirm the setter's words.

Chiaki blinks once, processing what her kouhai said. And when she does, she lightly smacks his head with a frown on her face. "Don't spread lies, Tobi-kun," she scolds, shaking her head in disbelief in slight annoyance.

"S-So, what he said isn't true?" Tanaka questions while sweating, unusually nervous to hear her response.

The silver-haired female sighed, placing a hand on her hip, "me trying to hide isn't a lie. But the person isn't an ex. I haven't even had a boyfriend before."

This makes a look of surprise to spread across Kageyama's face, the male eyeing the girl beside him with a puzzled look. "He's not?"

At the younger boy's words, Chiaki could feel her cheeks had flushed a light pink. However, the facemask she wore hid it, much to her relief. Chiaki shakes her head and takes her place beside Daichi and Sugawara, having ended the conversation with her silence.

The other boys could tell that the conversation had ended as well, Hinata and Tanaka moving to Kageyama.

"Pssst... Is what she said true, Kageyama...? She never has had a boyfriend?" Tanaka questioned, Hinata nodding in curiosity, his eyes shining.

The raven-haired boy frowned, scratching his cheek. "Uh, we all assumed they were dating back in middle school. But they never said anything officially, so I can't say, Tanaka-san," Kageyama admits, thinking back to his time in middle school. "But, they were super close to the point that we thought they were dating. The whole vibe was almost like a married couple..."

This makes Tanaka sweat drop, not being able to imagine that Chiaki, who was beginning to be known as someone unattainable, the Takane no Hana (1) of his grade to be in a relationship. Hinata, on the other hand, looks shocked by the information.

"If what she said is true... I can't believe someone as pretty as Aki-senpai never has had a boyfriend," the ginger comments in awe, "you would think she'll have suitors lining up in front of her house."

At his words, a dark look appears on Kageyama's face. He grips onto Hinata's head, making the said boy squawk in pain and surprise. "Listen here, bōke. Around Aki-senpai, there are four scary guards that wouldn't hesitate to snap your neck if you even glance at her in the wrong way. No one is worthy in their eyes..."

All the boys who heard this gulped, shaking in fear as they wondered and imagined what their setter said. Daichi, who had also heard, only paled, a faraway look appearing in his eyes, a weak laugh leaving his lips as he silently agrees to what Kageyama said.

Eventually, they all make it to the gym, although Chiaki did note that Daichi had disappeared at one point. A few moment later he had come back, dragging Tanaka, who pouted as his captain scolded him with a vein popping on his forehead. Sugawara, who saw her puzzled look, laughed seeming to be used to the specific scene.

"Tanaka probably picked a fight with the opponent team again, and Daichi must have scolded him," the silver-haired male explained, Chiaki nodding in understanding not verbally responding to her senpai. And she wasn't planning on opening her mouth any time soon. The silver-haired female hadn't spoken a single word since she walked into the gym, deciding if she had to, she'd whisper.

She felt on edge, looking around and recognizing quite a few familiar faces. When she walked past them, she kept her head down, letting her bangs cover her eyes and hide her features her mask couldn't.

And thankfully, none of them seemed to notice anything. However, Chiaki nearly flinched when Kunimi stared with his half-lidded eyes, a look of curiosity in them as they trailed after the Karasuno team. Beads of sweat trailed down the back of her neck as his gaze landed on her. Although there was no denying Kunimi had moments where he was lazy, she knew that he was one of the sharpest underclassmen she had back in middle school.

A small sigh of relief left the female's mouth as Kindaichi approached the slightly shorter boy, pulling his attention away from her.

Seeing this, Chiaki turned towards Tsukishima, the said male blinking as the female grabbed his hand.

"Wha-"

"Don't move, I'm taping your fingers for you," the silver-haired female whispered, using the tall blond's body as a shield as she began to tape his finger although he argued that he could do it himself. Chiaki paid no mind to the scowling blond, neatly taping his hand, much to his astonishment.

Tsukishima bent his fingers, scrutinizing his taped finger with narrowed eyes before looking down at the female with a condescending smile, "huh, you're not that bad."

"Two of my older brothers are middle blockers as well, I've taped their fingers all my life," Chiaki quietly explained as she put away her tape. However, she looks up in surprise as she hears a crash. Tsukishima and she both blinked as they realized a stiff Hinata had crashed into the bench, tumbling to the floor in his nervousness.

Chiaki can't help but furrow her eyebrow, growing concerned for the short boy realizing how nervous he looked. It seemed like it was the same for the third-years, all of them watching the orange-haired boy in varied levels of worry.

"Aki-senpai, don't look, but at two o'clock, Iwaizumi-san is looking over here," Kageyama whispers as he walks past her. The female is thankful for the warning, nodding in understanding before maneuvering around the team before using Daichi and Sugawara as a human shield next.

They both send her a questioning look but don't make a scene as they only share a look of confusion with each other before shrugging it off. From the corner of her eyes, Chiaki could see that, like Kageyama said, Iwaizumi was looking at her. Beside him is Kunimi, seeming to say something to his upperclassmen.

Unknown to Chiaki and a waste of her worries, the two males had no clue it was her. Instead, they were speaking about their jealousy of the Karasuno team, their other teammates joining in.

"Karasuno has two managers? How is that fair?" Hanamaki comments, running a hand through his pink hair with a pout.

Iwaizumi lets out a laugh, seeming to look a bit amused as his friend whines, "I don't think the one with silver hair is a manager though. She's wearing a medic band on her arm, she's probably their medic."

"I feel even more jealous now. A personal medic? That's kinda like a nurse, right?" Matsukawa grins, nudging Hanamaki, who also shared a similar look as him.

"Their manager is really pretty, but their medic also has a very good figure although I can't see her face with her mask," Kunimi comments, making the three years look at him a bit taken aback, not expecting him to join in their thirst conversation.

Hanamaki releases a loud laugh as he roughly grabs Kunimi, wrapping him in a headlock the younger boy immediately tries to escape, "looks like Kunimi is also a man! But you ain't wrong about figure, they're big," the male grinned, earning a smack from Iwaizumi who decided that was enough.

Kunimi looks annoyed at the comment, glaring at his senpais, who snickered at his expression.

A whistle was blown, catching everyone's attention as they gathered on the court. Chiaki wished her team a quiet good luck before taking a seat beside Shimizu, a small medical bag at her feet.

"Ah..." Both females chorused, Chiaki closing her eyes as she fights the urge to punch at the bridge of her nose.

As soon as the game started, Hinata messed up with his nerve, going after the ball even after Daichi called it. Shimizu sighed beside her, sharing a brief eye contact with Chiaki, the two females not being able to help it but let out a weak, wry laugh.

The longer the game continues, Chiaki becomes even warier, her eyes darting around the court of her team in concern. She could tell that irritation was building up in a certain freshmen setter, the dark aura seeming to leak out of his body.

Each time the orange-haired first-year messed up, Chiaki couldn't help but shift on the bench, slowly moving to sit on the edge.

"Okay! Lets steadily take back points one at a time!" Daichi encourages, an easy going smile on his face in hopes to calm his teammates. However, that freezes in place as he realizes who was serving next.

Kageyama has a similar expression, sweating as his mouth part in dread. Of all people...

Chiaki holds back the need to speak encouraging words, her eyes darting to the Seijoh team before looking back at Hinata, who held the volleyball looking like a small, terrified chihuahua as he shook in place.

"Kageyama," Tanaka hissed at the male in position beside him, "is Hinata okay, or did he stop breathing?" The male with a shaved head questioned as Hinata took forever to serve the ball.

In response, Kageyama spoke with an urgency in his tone, "even if you ask me, I've got no idea, Tanaka-san!" The setter hissed back. He opened his mouth to speak, but before he could, the ball smacked him straight on the back of his head, making him stumble a few steps forward.

Ah... Chiaki and everyone thinks.

It's silent for a second before it gets broken with hysteric laughters.

Tanaka bursted out laughing first, Tsukishima quickly joining in. "Wahaha! Oi, how's the back of your head doing, Kageyama?" The wing spiker asks, holding his stomach as he cackled.

Beside him, Tsukishima was snickering, his eyes gleaming, not even bothering to hide his amusement and glee, "the back of your head is looking good, King!"

Slowly, Kageyama turns, a look of fury burning in his eyes, looking ready to lunge forward any moment.

Chiaki saw this before anyone else, jumping up to her feet, surprising Shimizu.

"Tobi-kun, freeze!"

Her clear voice rang through the now silent gym, both Tanaka and Tsukishima shutting up after seeing Kageyama's angered face.

Kageyama froze just as she said, blinking while a couple of the players from Seijoh also became still as stone at the familiar voice and command.

It was a familiar code to those who went to Kitagawa Daiichi, something Chiaki had made for Kageyama when he was about to or if he did overstep his boundaries. It was suggested by Chiaki because Kageyama had the tendency of irritating Oikawa without realizing and that caused an unwanted rift in the team.

And while there were only a few people who knew it, they all knew only one person used it.

Iwaizumi stared at the female with silver hair, not being able to look away from her in disbelief. Kunimi and Kindaichi had a similar reaction, staring at Chiaki with their mouth hanging open.

"N-No way," Kindaichi hissed, nudging Kunimi, "is that seriously.....?" He didn't end his question, but Kunimi knew precisely what his friend was asking.

The boy with his hair parted in the middle nodded, his eyes narrowing, trying to get a better look at the female who was standing. "Aki-senpai is the only one who could stop Kageyama like that. And I recognize her voice."

At Chiaki's voice, Kageyama snapped out of his anger, looking at the female before nodding, letting her know he wasn't going to kill Hinata with his emotions out of whack. Seeing this, Chiaki takes a seat back down on the bench.

She looked calm. However, inwardly she was freaking out, especially when she felt a heated gaze being shot her way from the opponent court. She doesn't dare to look over, already knowing who was staring at her. I'm going to die today. I'm going to get murdered... Look at him, Hajime-senpai has gotten buff, he's going to be able to crush my head with his thighs like a watermelon.... Thoughts like these ran through Chiaki's head as she inwardly cried at her fate.

Kageyama released a long breath, Chiaki's voice snapping him out of his anger and replacing it with a sane, calm mind. However that didn't stop him from slowly making his way towards Hinata, who was frozen in fear.

"W-W-Wait! Kageyama! We can talk about this!" Hinata stuttered, taking a staggering step back as the taller male loomed over him.

"Hey, you."

Hinata froze at Kageyama's voice, already being able to see his life flashing before his eyes. "Yes..." He meekly responds, his shoulders sagging.

Kageyama's sharp eyes are shaded by his bangs as he glares down at the shorter boy. "Just what are you scared of that has you so goddamn nervous? Is it because the opponents are big? Because it's your first practice match?"

Hinata can't help but break out into a sweat at the darkness that seeps out of the setter. He flinches as Kageyama's palm smacks into the back of his own head, the loud sound seeming to echo in the silent gym.

"You're saying," Kageyama slowly spoke as he continued to smack his head as Hinata watched, his sharp eyes promising murder, "that they're something even scarier than you driving a serve into the back of my head, huh? So, what is that....?"

Hinata, who's stiff as a board, looking like a baby chick getting glared at by a snake spoke in a dead tone. "Nothing, in particular, comes to mind...."

A haunting laugh leaves Kageyama's mouth, the setter continuing to smack his head to emphasize his point, "then you don't have a reason to be nervous anymore, now do you? Since you've already done the scariest thing, you can think of! So now...."

Hinata flinches, shrinking in as he sees the taller male raise his hand. But his eyes widen as his ears ring at the loud voice that comes out of Kageyama's mouth.

"HURRY UP AND GET BACK TO MOVING THE WAY YOU NORMALLY DO, YOU BŌKEEEE!!!"

Shimizu, who sat next to Chiaki, worriedly placed a hand on the younger female's shoulder, lightly shaking her, "Aki-chan, are you okay?"

A dry laugh left the silver-haired female's mouth, Chiaki looking like her soul had left her. "Shimizu-senpai, don't mind me... I'm just thinking about my death that's going to happen at the end of the game..." She dejectedly spoke, leaning her head against Sugawara's shoulder. The said male patted her head in pity, already noticing how Iwaizumi was still staring at her way.

"My death...." Chiaki trailed off, making both third-years sweatdrop.

                   Both teams gathered together separately, quickly sipping water as they took a moment to discuss and have a break.

"I-Is that really, Aki-senpai?" Kindaichi questioned, his eyes darting to where Karasuno was gathered, his gaze going over to the silver-haired female with the red medical band on her arm.

Kunimi hummed as he used his shirt to wipe at his face, also looking over at the opponent team. "It has to be her. The nickname she used for Kageyama and the command. Aki-senpai is the only one who used it. And the longer I look at her, the way she stands reminds me of her," the first-year wing spiker says.

"It's definitely her," both first-years turn to Iwaizumi in surprise, not expecting the older male to be listening to their conversation. The third-year vice captain has his eyebrows furrowed as he glanced at the Karasuno team. "Chiaki has a habit of crossing her legs when she's standing. And look, she's holding hands with the silver-haired guy and Kageyama."

At his words, both first-years look over once again, realizing the spiky-haired man was right. This makes Kunimi snicker, not being able to help but find amusement in it. "It seems like Aki-senpai hasn't changed that much with her need to hold hands."

This makes Kindaichi blush, a pout on his lips. Kunimi immediately notices this, lightly smacking his friend's back, "stop pouting, it doesn't make you look cute. And it doesn't change the fact that Aki-senpai didn't hold your hand a lot. She must have picked up the vibe that you had a crush on her."

Kindaichi scowled, sending a stink eye at his friend, looking offended at what Kunimi said. "Don't bring it up, you ass. And stop being so smug cause you got to hold hands with her more than me. You can't deny that Kageyama got to hold Aki-senpai's hand more than you."

This makes an irritated look appear on Kunimi's face, the smirk getting wiped off his face. The banter between the two keeps them occupied while the third-years gather around Iwaizumi in interest.

"So, you guys know her," Matsukawa questions, the tall male eyes lighting up in interest. He briefly makes eye contact with his best friend, Hanamaki. The said pink-haired male looked eager to hear some gossip.

Iwaizumi only hums in response, not being able to look away from Chiaki, seeming to drink in her appearance after a year of her being absent from his life. "She looks different..." He whispers to himself, but his words are heard by both Matsukawa and Hanamaki, the boys' interest getting piped.

But seeing that they weren't getting the response and answer they wanted from Iwaizumi, Hanamaki wrapped a hand around Kindaichi's neck, dragging the first year to him. The boy stumbled and looked confused as he got flanked by two of his senpais.

"So, Kindaichi, tell us who that pretty girl is," Hanamaki questioned with a grin. Matsukawa nodded in agreement, not caring as Kindaichi got a bit uncomfortable under their gaze.

Kindaichi sent a look at Kunimi, hoping his friend would swoop in to help him out. But Kunimi pretends to not see, crouching down to re-tie his shoes although he obviously doesn't need to do so.

"Well?" Matsukawa questions expectantly, both he and Hanamaki getting closer to Kindaichi.

The poor boy gulped, "s-she was our senpai in middle school. Uh, she was Iwaizumi-san and Oikawa-san's kouhai. You might know her too, she's Ibato Chiaki-san, the-"

"The Dove of Miyagi," both Hanamaki and Matsukawa chorused a look of surprise on their face, looking back at where Chiaki stood in interest. Silently, the boys looked at the Karasuno team until their coach called them for their attention.

🏐🏐EXTRA🏐🏐

🏐🏐EARLIER AT TOKYO 🏐🏐

The males all panted as they lay on the floor in various states of exhaustion, sweat soaking into their athletic shirts from their sponsors.

"Who angered Coach Ibato?" Hirugami Fukurou, the twenty-three-year-old middle blocker who recently joined the team, questioned, laying on the cold floor like a starfish, his chest rising and falling. He could hear his own heart beating in his chest, his legs and arms feeling like lead.

The only response he gets are groans from his teammates, most of them looking too dead to even form proper words. Fukurou releases a sigh as he forces himself to turn over on his stomach, his muscles that are lacking oxygen screaming in protest at his movement.

After he moves, he falls back limp to the ground, only lifting his head up to look at his Coach, who has his face twisted with his arms crossed over his chest. Any idiot could tell that Ibato Hiroto was in a tremendously lousy mood.

"Alright, which dumbass made him like that?" The captain for the Schweiden Adlers' grunts, seeming to look as dead as the rest of his team, "I'm older than you all, I can't take back to back hard practice from Coach when he goes into ogre mode. Admit it right now, and your punishment won't be as harsh."

No one speaks up, not a single one of them can think of anything that comes to their mind. Realizing this, the captain's gaze moves to Fukurou, who flinches and looks away, refusing to meet eyes with the older man.

"Alright, Fukurou, as the newbie, you're tasked to find out what's causing Coach to be like that. And find what we have to do to make his mood better. Not even Coach Suzaku can stop Coach Ibato when he's like that," the captain pretends to not see the look of horror and disbelief on Fukurou's face.

It takes another second for the middle blocker to realize how serious his captain is. When he looks around for help from his teammates, he only receives a gaze of pity, or they shift their gaze away in guilt. Just as the male wishes his life goodbye, the door to the stadium opens, a head poking in.

Minato blinks as he sees the team all spread out, a look of exhaustion on their faces. His gaze shifts to where his father is, his eyes lighting up in realization, seeming to piece everything together. The man can't help the wry smile as he sends an apologetic look at the players seeing as they took the brunt of his father's anger.

"Minatooooo," Fukurou cries out his friend's name in relief, Minato immediately finding the male on the floor. Minato approaches him with a smile, helping his friend sit up with a chuckle.

"Looks like my dad's giving you guys a hard time," the eldest Ibato son comments, earning a scoff from the players.

"More like trying to kill us with practice," Fukurou grunts, giving the tall man a nod of thanks.

Minato and Fukurou were acquaintances before the latter joined the Schweiden Adlers, the two having met at camp when they were in middle school. They were the same age and had a similar passion, plus they both came from a family with a background of volleyball. When Fukurou joined the team, seeing as Minato's father was the head coach and Minato himself his assistant, the two had rekindled their friendship, often going out to dinner or drinks when they were done with their jobs.

Fukurou gripped Minato's shoulder, a desperate look appearing in his brown eyes, "please tell me what's got Coach Ibato in such a bad mood! He's going to end up killing all of us by the end of the week if he continues to be like that!"

This makes a weak laugh leave Minato's lips, immediately knowing what had made his father like that. With a sigh, Minato began to explain. "This weekend, we got a call from my mother in Miyagi. Anyways, you know about my sister, right? I'm pretty sure you met her the last time she came to visit us."

Fukurou immediately nods, "the Dove. How can I not, she left quite an impression. And she's the same age as my younger brother. So what about her?"

"Well, after her accident, she didn't want anything to do with volleyball. But this weekend, we found out she joined her high school's volleyball team," Minato explains, a small smile on his lips as he thinks about his baby sister.

Fukurou, on the other hand, has a puzzled look on his face, "shouldn't that be good news?"

"It is, that is until he found out she joined the boy's team as the team medic."

"Oh...."

Both males' expression scrunched up, knowing what that meant. They were both older brothers to sisters, they knew how families worked.

A silence fell over them, neither Fukurou nor Minato having the energy to say anything for a moment, a faraway look appearing in their eyes as they imagined their own sister hanging around a group of hormonal boys.

"You have anything in mind that can bring up Coach's mood?" Fukurou finally asks, remembering the reason why he was having this conversation with Minato in the first place.

A thoughtful look appeared on Minato's face before he nodded, pulling his phone out to send a text.

                   Chiaki blinked, pulling her phone out, feeling it buzz in her pocket as she waited outside of the bus, being the first one to arrive. She opens the text from Minato, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

________________________________

Minato-nii-san:

S.O.S. please text 'I love you, Daddy. Miss seeing you, and have a good day at work. Don't be a mean coach, okay?' to Dad, ASAP. If not, our family might get sued for mass murder.  

Received: 3:08 PM

_________________________________

While confused, Chiaki does as she is asked before slipping her phone back into her pocket as Shimizu approaches her with a small smile.

                    Fukurou and Minato silently watched as Hiroto pulled out his phone when it pinged in his pocket. The said man's face that was a stony mask of an ogre seemed to melt in front of their eyes, his cheeks dusting a shade of pink. Fukurou's mouth is hanging to the floor as Hiroto beams, his lousy mood just a moment ago seeming like a joke.

"Alright, men! Good job today! You're dismissed early!" Hiroto hollers with a broad smile on his face, not seeming to notice the look of disbelief that's sent his way by his players. The said man, almost skips out of the gym, leaving all his players in his dust.

Minato flashes his friend a peace sign.

From that moment, between the Schweiden Adlers' players, Ibato Chiaki was known as the team's goddess, the only person who can help them when Hiroto's bad mood went out of hand.

                   🏐🏐TERMS🏐🏐

Takane no Hana 高嶺の花: - Literally translated as, "Flower on a high peak." It means "something out of one's reach." Some things are beautiful to look at, but realistically, there is no way you can get them. The object might be something that you want very much but can't have.

                    A/n

Yayyyy, Minato's look is finally revealed!! Many of you may recognize him but he looks like Yamasaki Sousuke from Free!  He inherited his mother, Minako's, dark brown hair and droopy eyes but Hiroto's eye color! He's actually almost a Carbon copy of Hiroto on the face and body structure except for his eyes and height! He's taller than Hiroto, being the tallest in the Ibato household!

Don't forget to vote and comment to let me know how you think of the story so far! Did you like the extra, haha.

Next update: Chapter 7 | Ahiru-chan will be coming out on October 16th, 2020 so keep your eyes open on it. INteraction with Iwa-chan is going to be here!!

-Ember

posted: October 2, 2020

[przeuszczski]

Look, I like where the HQ manga is going, but............

i think hinata should have gone to buenos aires, see under the cut

A light alarm buzzed in the background.

Shoyo Hinata opened a bleary eye, frowning at the familiar living room around him.  He’d fallen asleep on the couch, his roommate effectively retreating to his own room to sleep.  The sunlight, sneaking up over the horizon as it was, felt as if it were begging him to get up.  

Five more minutes, he thought weakly, pressing his nose back into the cushion.  The night before slowly began to return to him.  He and his roommate had stayed up late last night watching the end of the latest Naruto arc.  For a moment, he was confused.  Usually, the conversation between them would be enough to keep him awake, however, the more he thought about it—

It had been a filler arc.  Again.

No wonder he’d fallen asleep.

The alarm kept buzzing, and he groaned louder.  He’d been getting up at the ass-crack of dawn for the past two years, he could at least take one day off…right?

Almost as a knee-jerk reaction, his mind flew back to his first year of high school.  The inter-high tournament.  Aoba Johsai.  Shiratorizawa.  The spring Nationals…his fucking fever…

In an instant, he was off the couch.  He turned his face back to the emerging sun.  His delivery shift would be starting soon, and he would not be late for it.  

Taking care of yourself starts at square one, he thought the same words he’d spoken to himself every day the past two years.  As if agreeing with himself, he nodded at the rising sun and turned to begin his morning routine.

“Have a good afternoon!” He waved at the old woman, swinging his leg back over his bicycle and pumping the pedals.  He had three more deliveries to make before he could sneak away to the beach.  

And how it called for him.  He could hear it.  Every hour, no matter if he was asleep, awake, or somewhere in the middle.  Even when he stood in the sand, his toes burrowing themselves further down into the warmth, he could hear the ting of a well-inflated volleyball hitting someone’s forearms.  As he pumped forward up the current hill, he couldn’t help but remember the mountain at home.  Rio de Janeiro was so full of hills that he couldn’t avoid them.

Well, at least that part of his training hadn’t changed.  Thankfully.  

He’d been careful about his health ever since the Komedai match.  Even now, he could remember the humiliation of Takeda-sensei’s speech, sitting on the bench—that had felt so cold at the time, he was burning up so badly—, and laying in his curtained-off room until coach Ukai had brought him food.

He grit his teeth like he did every time he thought of that day, and kept pushing himself forward.  Carefully.  Smoothly.  Smartly, this time.  

He crested the hill, and his tightly squared jaw relaxed.  Just like the mountain at home, the top of the hill was the best.  He savored the moment of staring down at the tops of buildings lower on the hill, watching as cars crawled by and swarms of people made their way about their lives.  There was something so comforting about getting lost in this crowd.  It made him remember how effective it was; because one day, just like he would emerge as a finely-honed weapon.  

Just like he would on the volleyball court.

Two-on-two games always ran him ragged.  Jumping, diving, setting, receiving…he’d be a force to be reckoned with at any blink of an eye.  

What was it Oikawa-san had said?  He was annoying?

He grinned to himself.

He’d be the most annoying to the opposing team.  

He knew Oikawa-san had meant it as an insult.  He knew that everyone who called him that meant it as an insult.  It was supposed to bring him down.  Make him slow down.

But Hinata?

Oh, to Hinata, it was a challenge.  

He did his best to hold back a holler as he kicked his feet out from the pedals, and let the bike carry him down the hill.

Thank you for the game!

The phrase, still, after almost two years, almost came out of his mouth as he bid goodbye to the strangers on the beach.  He’d opened his mouth to say it, even, but snapped his jaw shut again.  Instead, he settled for a jovial wave and grin.  His Portuguese wasn’t great, but now that he’d started reading his roommate’s manga and watching anime in the language, he felt like he could understand what everyone around him was saying better.  If he knew the people around him better, he’d try to communicate with them.  His English was a little better, admittedly.  When he found another English speaker, he’d have more success with them.  But the people he’d played with hadn’t spoken a lick of it.  He’d skated by with his broken Portuguese, and returned to his bike to start the long ride home.  He slung his leg over the seat and relaxed back on it, relishing the feeling of tired muscles (that had toned themselves over the past two years—hell, he’d even grown a few centimeters) for a moment, staring out at the ocean.  

Brazil was beautiful.  Japan was, too, but…it was always so warm here.  Hinata could play volleyball outside all year round.  It wasn’t smiled upon, no, but he could.  And a lot of times, he did.  He’d started making the arrangements to return to Japan, and the closer the departure date loomed, the more he realized…he’d really, genuinely miss this place.  This place that had left him so lonely, so homesick, so scared when he’d first arrived, a confused high-school graduate…it had also shown him how connected a city could be.  How welcoming.  How comforting.  

Of course, he’d wasted almost a year feeling scared and homesick.  It wasn’t really until Oikawa-san had shown up out of the blue that he’d realized how—not foolish, per se, but silly, perhaps—he’d been.  

It was amazing how much hearing your native language could do.

He’d just let out a long, contented sigh when his phone rang.  Raising an eyebrow, he placed both feet on the ground again and pulled it out of his pocket.  It buzzed—not angrily, no, but something close—in his hand.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he muttered, finally rotating it around to see who was calling. “Do I need to get more ramen on my way home—?”

He stopped mid-gripe.  His roommate was needy, yes, but he’d been so helpful to Hinata after they’d connected.  Once he’d figured out how to communicate with him, he’d become a close friend, much like Kenma.  

But it wasn’t his roommate’s contact that stared back at him.

He stared at a selfie of himself and Oikawa-san, both sticking their tongues out at the camera in front of his favorite beach court.  Just looking at it, his stomach dropped.  He’d swapped contact information with Oikawa-san before he returned to Argentina, yes, but…

Well, he’d never expected the other man to actually call him.  A group text, a group brag?  Maybe.  Not an actual phone call.

The phone kept ringing, and as he realized that he was about to send the caller to voicemail, he yelped and fumbled the phone again.  When he finally recovered it, he smashed the answer button before he could bring it up to his ear.  As he finally grabbed hold of it and held it to his ear, he let out a hasty greeting.

“Shoyo!” The man greeted him as if nothing had happened.  Hinata, finally feeling like he was a regular human being again, let out a big breath.

“Hello!” He said again, and Oikawa, already starting his next sentence, cut off.  

“Uh, hi.  Again.  Is…this a good time?”

“Ah, yes!  Yeah!  Sorry!  I wasn’t actually expecting a call right now.  I’m about to bike home.”

“Ah,” Oikawa, standing in the dark hours away from the kid he’d called, waved goodbye to his teammates.  He’d catch a bus back to his apartment.  As one of his teammates, his middle blocker, stopped as if to wait for him, he waved him on.  When the guy didn’t move, he held the phone away from his head and hissed a ‘too tired to go out’ at him.  When he finally left, Oikawa turned away from the entryway and leaned against the post by which he was standing.  

“What was it you needed?” Hinata sounded anxious, as if he were going to hang up the phone over a few minutes of awkward silence.  

As if, he thought with a grin. If that were the case, Iwaizumi and I would have broken up years ago.

“How soon can you get to Buenos Aires?” He asked.  This was Shoyo Hinata.  He…wasn’t dumb, no, but he worked better when you were direct with him.  

“Bue—Buenos what?” He stammered. “Buenos Aires?  The city?”

“No, the hotel,” Oikawa rolled his eyes. “Yeah, the city.”

“Uh…why?”

“Your two years are almost up, aren’t they?”

Silence.  

Oh, he remembered that silence.  Loathe as he was to admit it, he’d had that same silence before he’d left Japan.  Every time someone asked what he was doing after high school.  Every time someone would mention the fact that he was leaving soon.

It was the silence of someone who knew they were at a crossroads.  

“Well…yeah,” he finally murmured.  Oikawa smirked to himself.

“The team is having a scouting session in a week,” he continued. “And I think you should be there.”

Hinata blanched.  The Great King?  Asking me…?

“What?  Scouting?  Like…”

“For the team.”

“To work for—?”

“To play for the team.” Oikawa had to physically tighten his grip on his phone to keep from rolling his eyes.  When Hinata didn’t say anything, he suppressed a mounting anxiety tightening in his stomach.  

He wasn’t sure what it was about Shoyo.  Sure, they’d only played together a few times, but…well, he was the kind of player every setter yearned to play with.  The way he jumped at every ball, the way his energy brought up his teammates instead of sinking to their level…

He’d been wrong about Shoyo in high school.  He knew that, now.  Back then, he’d thought the brat was like Ushiwaka and Kageyama; skating by on raw talent and grabbing everyone by the yokes of their shirts and dragging them along.  

But he’d watched their last game with Sawamura, Sugawara, and Azumane.  He’d watched as they’d all but dragged Hinata off the court.  And as the years went on, he’d kept a loose eye on Karasuno.  Of course Shoyo had improved.  And even still, Oikawa had turned a blind eye and chalked it up to talent.  He remembered thinking ‘Oh.  He’s just lucky.  Talented.  He’s never had to work for this.’

And he’d been so, so wrong.

When he’d stumbled upon Shoyo in Rio, something had clicked.  Maybe not right away, but after playing with Hinata in that sand, spending some time with him—well, someone with raw talent would never force themselves through two grueling years of slaving away on a beach, barely skating by on volleyball lessons and tips from a delivery job, and meticulously documenting everything he consumed in a fucking volleyball journal on top of it all.  

As hard as Oikawa had worked in the past five years, he’d had to face the facts.  

Shoyo Hinata wasn’t a genius.

He just worked his way into the facade.  

And that, more than anything else, was something Oikawa excelled at.

“Or are you scared you won’t know how to jump on a real court again?”

He could almost hear the shrimp straighten and his lips purse into the same face he made whenever someone was showing him up.

“Of course I haven’t!” He sputtered. “Are you kidding?  Forget?  Me?”

Oikawa grinned.

“So, what do you say?”

He hated needling away at someone, but he’d be damned if he didn’t at least show Shoyo what he could do.  Sure, he was no Iwaizumi, but he’d do.  

“I have to work…”

“Shoyo.” Oikawa finally sighed. “You wanted a foot in the door, right?”  The kid was so expressive, he could picture his mouth snapping shut. “I’m cracking the door open for you.  Get your ass to Buenos Aires and show everyone what you’ve been doing the past two years.”

A long breath out.  

“Right!”

[hazyheel]

WWE Monday Night Raw 8/19/19 Review

Dolph Ziggler vs. Roman Reigns: Jerry Lawler was on commentary for the night because Corey Graves is on vacation. That’ll make for some interesting commentary. We saw a recap of the various things that have ben happening to Roman Reigns recently, and then Ziggler came out. And I was genuinely surprised, because matches don’t open Raw anymore. Ziggler got on the mic and told Reigns that he was sorry that a bunch of things almost happened to him. He then complained about all of his bad luck lately, like getting beaten up by Goldberg, Shawn Michaels and the Miz. He was talking about how it should be him, and he superkicked Reigns in the middle of his sentence. The bell rang and Roman gave Ziggler a hard right to the face and sent him tumbling out of the ring. Reigns went ot follow up with a flying forearm, but Ziggler pushed him into the barricade and gave him a Zig Zag on the outside. Roman fought back into things, at one point going for a superman punch, which Ziggler countered with a beautiful rollup, followed by a spike DDT. Ziggler actually seemed to have all of Reigns’ moves scouted. He always has some great counters to Reigns’ big moves. At one point, he dodged a spear and Reigns hit the turnbuckle, so Ziggler followed up with a Zig Zag for a near fall. Ziggler then went for Sweet Chin Music, but Reigns caught the kick and spun Ziggler around into a superman punch for a near fall. Reigns then went for a spear, but Ziggler countered into a Famouser. Neither man would stay down, and both guys knew how to counter the signature offense. Ziggler then yelled at Reigns that his time was up, and that he was an idiot for wasting his chance. He then went for a flying splash into the corner, but Reigns intercepted him with a spear for the win.

Grade: B. A really good match to open up the show. They had a fast paced contest that was full of exciting counters. Reigns obviously deserved a win here, because he will probably be in a couple important matches leading up to Clash of Champions, or maybe Hell in a Cell. But it was nice to see a pretty good match opening Raw.

Becky Lynch Backstage: she talked about how Sasha Banks took her ball and went home, and how she came back hotter than ever. She said that Sasha did absolutely nothing to deserve it. Lynch made herself the top dog in the women’s division. She said that Banks is the greatest wrestler in the women’s division to never be great. And she said that whatever her problem is with Lynch, she is more than happy to settle it.

Kings Court with Sasha Banks: before Banks came out, Jerry Lawler put over the King of the Ring tournament a bit. They revealed the bracket, and the first round looks totally stacked. He was giving his predictions, when the lights started to go out, so he left the ring. At the top of the entrance ramp, the Fiend  showed up behind him and gave him the mandible claw and put him on the ground. Vic Joseph took over for Lawler.

Grade: B-. Not a particularly badass attack, but I like that Wyatt is still sidelining legends, and that wasn’t just a one off thing. I don’t know where it is going, but it is certainly interesting.

Also, I was originally going to make a separate post about the King of the Ring tournament, but I will just make my prediction here. I think that Buddy Murphy is going to get the win, because he is a phenomenal talent and he really deserves it. Yes he is wrapped up in a different storyline, but there is no reason not to give it to him, especially if they don’t have a title shot attached to the win. Murphy will make a big splash if he wins the tournament here, so I think it’ll be him.

Baron Corbin & Drew McIntyre vs. Ricochet & The Miz: A battle of the remaining entrants in the King of the Ring tournament. The faces took control early on, working really really well together. But of course, coming back from commercial, Corbin was in control. He switched up the ring gear a bit for this match, wearing a tank top to the ring. It looked good, I like it. The heels beat down the Miz throughout most of the match, until Miz hit McIntyre with a spike DDT, and got the hot tag to Ricochet, who peppered his opponents with a series of strikes and kicks. McIntyre eventually ran in and stopped Ricochet dead in his tracks, beating down both he and the Miz. He went for a Claymore on Ricochet, but Ricochet countered with a hook kick to the face, followed by a Skull Crushing Finale from Miz. Corbin then gave Miz a chokeslam, but Ricochet flipped out of another attempt at it, only for Corbin to hit a Deep Six instead. In the finish, Corbin went to give Ricochet a shoulder check in the corner, but Miz pulled him out of the way, allowing Ricochet to hit Recoil for the win.

Grade: B. A weak B, but still this was a good tag match. It started out slow, but it came into its own as the match developed. It was very New Japan style booking to have this match, but I think it worked out. Miz and Ricochet had some good teamwork, while the heels are just dominant singles stars. Makes me very interesting for their matches next week.

Booker T interview: Booker T talked about The Fiend Bray Wyatt taking out legends lately, saying that someone needs to take him down. Then he talked about his success in King of the Ring 2006. He predicted that Drew McIntyre to win the tournament. These are kinda interesting interviews, I like it.

AJ Styles vs. Braun Strowman for the United States Championship: Luke Gallows and Karl Anderson cornered Styles here. Before the match started, they showed Styles making the challenge for this week. As the match started, Strowman quickly opted to attack the OC on the outside. Strowman was able to take down the OC, and even wiped out Styles when he went for a Phenomenal forearm. As Strowman was about to hit the running powerslam, Gallows ran in for a thrust kick and the disqualification.

The Tag team champions beat down Strowman, but Seth Rollins ran down and made the save. He cleaned house a bit and helped Strowman to his feet.

Backstage, Rollins ran up and talked to Strowman, telling him that if it was up to him, then Strowman would be the next contender for the Universal Championship. However, they still need to do some work on the OC, and Rollins suggested that they challenge for the Raw Tag Team Championships in the main event. Strowman agreed, and Rollins ran off to make that happen.

Grade: B-. Decent match with a nice beating to cap it off. Rollins paid Strowman back for the save last week, and everything wrapped up in a nice little bow. Of course, this story isn’t over. I am into the tag team championship stuff it makes sense. It’ll be an exciting match, although I doubt there will be a title change.

Cesaro vs. Samoa Joe in the first round of the 2019 King of the Ring: Cesaro started with a huge European uppercut right out of the gates, blasting Joe and getting a near fall out of it. Joe got him right back with a stif back elbow right away, and the two were out to the races. They traded hard strikes over and over again, with Joe putting Cesaro clean over the barricade. Then two then proceeded to chop each other until their chests were red, but Joe continued to keep the advantage. Cesaro was eventually able to get control with a series of hard strikes and a vicious kick to the face, but only a near fall. He followed it up with a botched vertical suplex, but he picked it right back up for a nice looking one right afterwards. Cesaro beat on Joe all around the ring, inside and out, and getting several near falls out of it. Joe eventually fought back with a vicious uranagi into the mat at a dangerously high angle. Cesaro then got the big swing, but only got a couple rotations before locking in a sharpshooter, and then a crossface. As he went for a Neutralizer, Joe back body dropped him out of it and then caught him out of a springboard into the Coquina Clutch for the win.

Grade: B+. Wow, what a hard hitting contest. A great way to open up the tournament this year, two hard hitting Ring of Honor veterans tearing it up between the ropes. It seemed like either guy could win, and the heel vs. heel dynamic complemented that, but the crowd was very much pulling for Joe. They were happy when he won, as was I. Match of the night.

Elias Concert: Before the start, we saw Elias in the recording studio, about to record a song, when Drake Maverick ran in for the rollup, and Elias kicked the living crap out of him. When the concert actually started, he kept having issues with his mic, and he announced that this was his fairwell performance. He said that he wasn’t willing to come out live each week and risk his championship. He then started to play, but his guitar was out of tune, and his Mic kept going fuzzy. So he demanded a new guitar, so a crew member got in the ring and kept pulling the new guitar away from him. R-Truth was revealed to be the guy, and Truth tried to roll him up a couple times, and even a scissor kick. Elias kept kicking out, but he couldn’t run away. So, Truth grabbed the guitar, but Elias fled before Truth could hit him with it.

Grade: B-. I’m into this. Elias didn’t just slip away, he actually put up some fight, which was nice to see. And we have a little story developing for him with the championship, so the division is expanding. The 24/7 title is moving up in the world.

Rey Mysterio interview: Mysterio talked about the difficulty he has had recently in his problems with Andrade. He also kinda mentioned his family, and said that things haven’t really been clicking with him lately. He said that he needs to defend his honor from Andrade, but his body hasn’t been able to keep up. He said that his biggest fear is that his injuries are catching up to him. He said that he was going to hang up his mask, and he was about to do it. But Dominic ran up to him and told him not to do it. Dominic said that he wants to team with him, so that he can tell his kids that he teamed with the great Rey Mysterio. So, Mysterio opted not to retire, and he told Dominic that he loves him. Very emotional, although Dominic does not have a lot of charisma. Interesting stuff, I’d like to see how good Dominic is.

The New Day vs. The Revival: This was a match that was supposed to happen last week, but Randy Orton turned it into a six man tag. This time, neither team had a second, it was a straight up tag match. Big E and Scott Dawson started things out with some nice strength based wrestling, and the faces took control for the early portions of the match. However, the Revival were able to beat down Woods for a while before Big E tagged in and threw Dash Wilder around. Big E was about to give Wilder the spear through the ropes, when Randy Orton gave an awesome RKO out of nowhere, if you’ll excuse the pun.

Kofi Kingston then ran down to the ring, taking out the Revival but eating an RKO of his own. Woods then ran in and got some nice hits in, but the Revival lifted him up into an RKO as well, with the heels standing tall again. They even set up Woods to break his knee, which Orton forced Kingston to watch. Wilder crushed his knee, and Woods writhed in pain on the mat.

Grade: B. Another really good beatdown angle. The Revival and Randy Orton are a really good team. Orton is always great as part of a stable, and leading the Revival he seems to be finding himself. This is actually becoming the best angle that Kingston has had during his WWE Championship run. Orton is back to his brutal sadistic self, and it is great. I’m into this feud, which is nice because I want to remember Kingston’s reign.

Sasha Banks Interview: Banks talked about why she did what she did last week. She kinda ignored the questions, only really talking about her hair, until Michael Cole started to address them specifically. When he got a little too forceful, Banks just said “You’re Welcome” and left.

Alexa Bliss & Nikki Cross vs. Fire and Desire: This is a non-title match, but one that I’m still excited to see. The new champions are a pretty new team, so they need some experienced opponents to learn more about teaming together. Mandy Rose and Sonya Deville used their strength advantage early on to keep the advantage, also showing their striking prowess. At one point, Cross was able to distract Rose a bit, which allowed Bliss to take advantage and turn the match in her favor. In the finish, Cross gave Rose a shoulder tackle to take her off the apron, and then intercepted Deville as she attacked Bliss with a swinging neckbreaker for the win.

Grade: C. Decent match, but not nearly enough time to get going. Rose and Deville are a very capable tag team, and I would’ve loved to see them against Banks and Bayley back in the day. Bliss and Cross are coming into their own slowly, and more matches like this, probably longer ones will be needed.

Braun Strowman & Seth Rollins backstage: Rollins was trying to discuss their strategy in the tag team match in the main event. The two clashed over who should lead, and we were left unsure if their future feud over the Universal Championship would affect their match.

Cedric Alexander vs. Sami Zayn in the first round of the 2019 King of the Ring: Zayn started with some striking, doing his bet to ground Alexander and keep him from picking up the pace. He wore down Alexander with a series of holds, but he didn’t target any body part in particular. The second that Alexander picked up the pace, he didn’t stop at all. He hit the Neuralizer and the Lumbar check for the win.

Grade: C+. Way way way too quick. These two can put on an amazing match, but they didn’t because of time. That just sucks. But Alexander was the right choice, and I hope that he makes it to the semifinals.

The Street Profits Backstage: the two were there, comparing their brackets of the King of the Ring. They hyped up the rest of the tournament, and then complained that there wasn’t a tag team king of the ring. Montez Ford said that the only reason there wasn’t one was because they were already kings of the rings. Then they hyped the main event.

The OC Backstage: Gallows and Anderson talked about how they thought that Rollins and Strowman didn’t deserve a title shot, so Styles told them that this is a chance to prove how dominant of a stable they are.

Natalya Backstage: she started to talk about how she felt betrayed by Sasha and how emotional she is, but Sasha Banks ran in and attacked her again. She tried to further injure her arm, and then told her to go to hell and tell Jim Neidhart she said hi. That’s a little far.

Braun Strowman and Seth Rollins vs. The OC for the Raw Tag Team Championships: Styles was out to be in the corner with his teammates. Strowman and Gallows started the match, and Strowman took control for his team. He quickly tagged in Rollins, who immediately lost control due to his injured ribs. Rollins fought his way through all of them, eventually landing on the outside where the numbers game caught up to him. The OC worked over Rollins’ ribs, which was constantly being injured, even as he hit his own offense. They even took out Strowman, as Styles distracted him and allowed Gallows to push him into the post and take him out with a big boot. Rollins then successfully fought in a two on one situation, up until he went for a frog splash and Styles pushed him off the top. At one point, Gallows held Rollins so that Styles could take a pot shot, but Strowman bowled through and destroyed Styles. He got the hot tag and wrecked house, giving Anderson a running powerslam. As he made the pin, Rollins caught Styles with a Curb Stomp, and they won the damn tag belts.

As the night faded out, Rollins and Strowman posed on the entrance ramp, and they both stared at the Universal Championship belt.

Grade: B-. A strong B-, but an overall shocking ending. I didn’t think for a second that Rollins and Strowman would win here. Certainly an interesting booking decision. I look forward to seeing where this goes. Rollins is a double champion once again, and Monday Night Raw got a lot more interesting.

Overall Grade: B-

Pros: ziggler vs. reigns; ricochet & miz vs. mcintyre & corbin; cesaro vs. joe; new day vs. revival;

Cons: Bliss and Cross vs. Fire and Desire

[thisdaynews]

Jadon Sancho: How single-minded schoolboy made his dream a reality

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Jadon Sancho: How single-minded schoolboy made his dream a reality

Jadon Sancho scored his first England goals when he struck twice against Kosovo in September

Jadon Sancho drops his schoolbag and sits down. His white shirt – sleeves rolled up and blazer discarded – hangs from his 14-year-old shoulders. His burgundy-and-gold tie is knotted loosely around his neck. He and his team-mates from Watford’s under-15s have been excused from their classrooms and, one by one, called into one of the school’s small upstairs offices.

Their coach, Louis Lancaster, is there to meet his players and discuss their ambitions. When asked what he wants from football, Sancho’s reply comes without hesitation. “I want to play for England, and I want to play for one of Europe’s top clubs,” he says. “I want my family to be proud of me.”

Aged 19, he has achieved all of those feats and his goal for Borussia Dortmund against Barcelona in the Nou Camp on Wednesday was his latest footballing landmark. Whether he has many more at the club remains to be seen, with reports suggesting he is set to leave in January after a falling-out over “disciplinary issues”.He is, it seems, wanted by many of Europe’s leading clubs.

Being at the centre of such a high-stakes transfer saga is a world away from the environment in which Sancho gained his earliest footballing education. That came in the cages – the all-weather sports courts – near his home in Kennington, south London. He was childhood friends with Arsenal’s Reiss Nelson and Ian Carlo Poveda, who later became a Manchester City team-mate. He was spotted by Watford aged seven and would travel across London three nights a week to train with the Hornets until, at 11, he was old enough to attend the club’s partner school, the Harefield Academy in Uxbridge, west London.

The commute from Kennington to Uxbridge was too long to be feasible daily, and so came the first of many sacrifices the young Sancho would make in pursuit of his dream: he left his family home to move in with an aunt in Northolt, and was ferried the 14-mile journey to school by taxi each day. When boarding facilities were opened at Harefield, Sancho left his family to live on the school grounds.

From Monday to Friday, his routine revolved around football. Morning classes were interrupted for training. He’d return to school in the afternoon and, when the other kids went home, he’d have to make up for the lost lesson time before evening training began. Then it was back to the boarding house, rinse and repeat.

Perry Price was a left-back in Watford’s academy and a schoolmate of Sancho’s. “He’s always mentioned big clubs – Real Madrid, Barcelona,” Price tells BBC Sport. “It was always part of his plans. He sacrificed his youth for football.”

Sancho was not a disruptive student but, during school time, football dominated his focus. “I remember one of his teachers saying: ‘Jadon, can you get off YouTube and carry on with your work,'” recalls Lancaster. “I look over at his computer and he’s got Ronaldinho on the screen. Down goes the browser. She turns around, I look back – Ronaldinho’s back on the screen.”

Lancaster admits there was little internal hype over Sancho at Watford, but when he first saw the winger in action as a 13-year-old, he was in no doubt he’d seen a future star. Leading a summer session that included boys as old as 16, the coach ran the players through a drill in which they could lay the ball off simply to either side to earn one point for their team, or dribble around a defender for three points. Not once did Sancho take the safe option.

“I just remember everything being so smooth and elegant for Jadon,” says Lancaster, who now coaches the Chinese Taipei national team. “He didn’t break sweat. He was effortless. When I drop a shoulder, no-one moves; when he does it, people fall over.

“What I liked about him was his fearlessness. He was always looking to take players on, to try new things and be creative.”

Sancho soon joined Lancaster’s under-15 side. He was playing a year above his age group but was, by some distance, the team’s best player. He lit up one midweek match against Arsenal with a solo goal of jaw-dropping brilliance. On the pristine main pitch at Arsenal’s Hale End academy, Sancho collected the ball near the halfway line and burst between two defenders. The Arsenal youngsters were unable even to keep up with the shadows Sancho cast under the floodlights as he unleashed a 35-yard shot that arrowed into the top corner.

On another occasion, against Colchester, he scored into an empty net after replicating one of Brazil great Pele’s most famous tricks – rounding the goalkeeper without touching the ball, using only body feints and misdirection. And at 14, he began to feature regularly for Watford’s under-18s.

To continue improving, Sancho needed to be challenged, and nobody was more aware of that than the player himself. Lancaster would often set up uneven teams for training games, testing his players in matches of nine against seven or 10 against six. Sancho always wanted to be on the side with fewer players. And when the coach reversed the usual dynamic one time – insisting the winners, rather than the losers, were to do punishment sprints – Sancho was just as determined to be victorious as ever and led his team through the forfeit.

Manchester City had been tracking Sancho’s progress since he was 13. In March 2015, the month Sancho turned 15, City swooped. Under the rules which govern all elite academies in England, the teenager was signed for an initial compensation fee of just £66,000.

Opinion of Sancho, strange as it seems with hindsight, was divided among scouts at this stage. Some felt he lacked the athleticism to make it at the highest level; others likened his dribbling style to England legend Paul Gascoigne. “He was able to beat players with body movements, swerve, momentum and intelligence,” one scout told BBC Sport. “When you can do that, you don’t have to be super-quick. If a bit of pace comes, it’s a bonus.”

Figures close to the deal insist, despite reports to the contrary, City’s interest was not rivalled. For Sancho’s part, he was certain going to City was the right next step in his development. He is described as being “very single-minded” in his ambition to move north, and the switch happened quickly.

“He just left,” Lancaster remembers. “I didn’t even know he’d gone.”

The St Andrews floodlights illuminate the dusk of a mid-spring Monday evening as Sancho lines up to face Birmingham City in his Manchester City debut. He wears black boots – as dictated by club policy for all players below under-18 level – and the same button-collar, purple shirt as his team-mates. Yet, starting as a central striker, he instantly stands out. City demolish their hosts 8-3. Sancho zips into dangerous positions, weaves through crowds of defenders and scores five.

A talent-loaded under-16 side coached by former City striker Gareth Taylor went unbeaten throughout Sancho’s first full season with the club, and he was instrumental in a run to the FA Youth Cup final as an under-18 in 2017. There was a healthy competitive spirit among this gifted crop. In the under-16s, Sancho played predominantly on the left wing, and would never want to be outshone by Luke Bolton on the opposite flank.

During a pre-season session on one of the outdoor pitches at City’s impressive academy facility, Sancho was among 20 players being put through their paces by coach Jason Wilcox. The players – including Brahim Diaz, now at Real Madrid, and Rabbi Matondo, who has since joined Schalke – were completing the bleep test. As the intensity of the 20-metre shuttle runs increased, the group dwindled, dropout by exhausted dropout, until just two remained. Sancho and Phil Foden looked across at each other, still running hard. “Let’s stop together,” they agreed.

Sancho, pictured here in 2016, had the option to continue learning at Manchester City – but he opted for the more immediate prospect of first-team football at Borussia Dortmund

Among such high-quality peers, Sancho’s determination to impress only grew. He was “obsessed with winning player of the tournament everywhere we went”, one member of City’s academy staff recalls. “There were moments in training where he’d do things and you’d wonder how he did it – and he’d be able to reproduce it in games,” says another.

In the summer of 2017, City offered Sancho a first professional contract – worth a reported £30,000 a week – and manager Pep Guardiola was ready to take the young winger on the senior side’s pre-season tour. But Sancho weighed up his chances of breaking into the most expensively assembled squad in world football against a more frictionless route to first-team football on offer at Borussia Dortmund. He rejected City’s offer and moved to Germany in a deal worth in the region of £10m.

At Dortmund, a detailed plan for his integration was drawn up. He would combine training with the first team with additional sessions and matches with the club’s second string – led by Jan Siewert, who went on to manage Huddersfield Town in the Premier league – and the under-19s.

“It was clear when he came that he needed an optimal relationship between load and recovery, because he was not used to men’s football,” Siewert says. “The club had to build him up quite carefully. In 2017 when he came, he had just three games with me. We started him with 55 minutes, then 65 and, at the end, 75. And within the week, he played with the under-19s team.

“The good thing was he came and didn’t think he was anybody superior in my team – he just wanted to train and work hard.”

Jadon Sancho (fourth from left) was part of an England U17 team featuring Manchester City’s Phil Foden (far right) and Manchester United’s Angel Gomes (third from right)

Sancho had been named player of the tournament as England reached the final of the European Under-17 Championship in May 2017. He was directly involved in 10 of England’s 15 goals before defeat by Spain on penalties. When the Under-20 World Cup came around in September, he was desperate to help the Young Lions go one better.

Sancho scored twice against Chile in England’s opener but it was decided he should return to his club after the group stage. While he was disappointed to leave his team-mates – who went on to hammer Spain 5-2 in the final – behind, Sancho understood he had outgrown that level of competition and his development was better served back in Germany.

“Before the game, he sent a video message to his guys, and England won,” Siewert says. “He committed fully to the work. I think at that time he realised it was his career and the way he performed in my team led him to the first team.”

The transfer to Dortmund saw Sancho leave behind his mother and sisters in London, but his father, Sean, moved with him. Sancho’s close relationship with his dad, who used to inspire his young son with videos of John Barnes, is cited as a positive, grounding influence by everyone who has worked with the Dortmund player.

Those who know him best insist Sancho has retained his humility during his rapid rise to stardom. He is still the same harmlessly cheeky, football-loving kid from Kennington. Signed shirts are dispensed on request to old friends, and last summer he visited his old primary school to talk to students, preaching the gospel of hard work and self-belief. When returning from the Nations League finals in Portugal last June, Sancho jumped straight into a taxi and headed to Islington, north London. He was carrying with him a signed Dortmund shirt and was en route to surprise a friend who had supported him during his days in the Watford academy.

Now one of the first names on the Dortmund teamsheet – when he is on time, at least – and an England regular, Sancho’s decision to try his luck in Germany has been vindicated. He has become the youngest player to reach 15 Bundesliga goals, the first player born this millennium to play for England and is one of the most consistent assist providers in Europe.

It is impossible to predict how things would have worked out had he stayed at City, but it is instructive that he has played more than nine times as many minutes in the Bundesliga as Foden has in the Premier League.

When Sancho saw an obstructed pathway, he decided to create his own. And several English youngsters have followed his lead in going abroad in search of opportunity – including childhood friend Nelson, who spent last season on loan at Hoffenheim.

“It doesn’t matter if he’s walking out on Hackney Marshes or Wembley in front of 80,000 people – it’s football, it’s fun,” Lancaster says. “What you’ve seen of him is nothing compared to what’s to come.”

That laid back, confident 14-year-old discussing his football dreams alone with his coach in a small school office could not have imagined he would achieve them all by the age of 19. Sancho’s story is one of opportunities seized, his success is a triumph of will as much as talent.

Sancho has become one of Dortmund’s key players since joining the German club in August 2017

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