Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Stepping out from the small little black cab that somehow got me here all in one piece. Those country roads be worse than the camping trips my family used to go on look like child's play, honestly, I am surprised anyone can get here from the city. But with that all out of the way I can now finally say, I’VE MADE IT! I want to scream it for the whole world to hear, Japan ever since you gave me anime I've always wanted to come and live here. Now that I am finally breathing in the fresh country air, standing on Japanese soil; the tingles between my legs grow warm.  

Standing now outside the gates as many high school students walk by from all different walks of life, the tall lanky nerds and their black framed glasses to the suspicious goth kids and oh my God, them. Athletes, with their dreamy god-like bodies racking up more kills with their hidden muscles under their shirts to their veins popping and waiting for a firm squeeze. Oh my God, I think I just wet myself and not the pissing kind. A few now watch me as I walk by, and that’s right boys you better keep your eyes on this ass because you have no idea what’s coming to hit you like a truck.  

Shiratorizawa academy has always been of interest of mine, not just because I'm a legacy here but far more than that, just look at those killer thighs, damn I would like to know what these boys be eating to get them to look like that. There's only one sport that can generate that much muscle in all areas of the body, Volleyball, not just my own sport but my family’s as well. We live and breathe the sport as if it’s become our second nature and now, I get to train in one of the top five countries in the world to producing the top players. That's why I'm here, I want to know, need to know what Shiratorizawa is hiding up their sleeves in becoming the best.  

Sadly, for now I’ll just have to suck it up and follow my moving-in instructions emailed to me from reception, at least I won’t be far from my prey- the boys I mean. I only hope for tomorrow to come sooner, new people to meet and dreams to crush, it’s just how I like my eggs in the morning. Despite each time almost having a human combusting rat race with myself with each hot dick swaying goodness walk by my nose still runs red. Shoving two tissue buds up my nostrils hoping to God that they can plug this dam for now, I finally reach main reception.  

The lady before me sits stationed behind her large white desk with half of her desktop computer covering her features only the greying atop her crown can be seen. Grunting once I remove the tissues the clacking of the keyboard stops, she turns, and her eyes grow wide. I did do a lot of reading before coming to Japan, and foreigners in a rural area of Sendai are scarce, it’s like finding a needle in a haystack. Just before her mouth moves to utter; probably trying her luck with English, I place down my moving-in slips unfolded from my pocket.  

“L/n Y/n, third year, we’ve been emailing each other about my moving-in process for today?” thankfully my Japanese comes out as naturally as it comes, what can you do when your mother is in fact Japanese herself.  

The woman buffers in her seat for a good thirty seconds before taking my slip and scanning the paper herself, her clear rimmed glasses clinks as she places them atop her head, the small silvery chain looping behind her ears. Standing up now the poor woman barely reaches my shoulder and that is with a few inches added to her heels. It’s sweet how most women here are averaged out for 5’5 ft but I know better than to judge a book by its cover.  

She leads me down from the visitor entrance to the side buildings where I’m assuming are the student residential blocks from the brochure. Still clean and proper as marketed by the picture, walking past level 1 and 2 before finally making it to 3. it’s smart to separate each level by year and gender, from what I remember the boys block is just west of here not that I'm going to store that information other than for ‘research’. Stopping just outside the tall white metallic door of 3B1, my door and as we wait for the student inside to open, my new roommate. The faint noise of someone saying ‘coming’ before the door clinks and juts to unlocking, and folding open to a girl, a short girl in fact.  

Almost like a chibi character that’s come to life before my eyes, her big puffy cheeks fit nicely behind her squared glasses and cute little dark fringe, standing from here I doubt she even passes my shoulder. A whole head shorter than me, she smiles furthering my point on her being the cutest thing I've ever seen. She moves to the side allowing me to bring up most of my luggage into the walkway. Not too bad for two girls to be living in, a small kitchenette area on my left and in front of me is a huge black screen TV as well as a sofa and a pink fluffy beanbag chair. Closest to the kitchen is the shared bathroom and opposite my door is hers, chibi leads up to a white door on the right, my door, and opens it. Walking inside finding my single bed pushed up against the far wall and my desk close to the window overlooking the sport fields.   

 “L/n-san, this is your new room, and this is your roommate, Tekashi Himari, if you need any help, you can always ask Tekashi-san or any one of the girls here, I and the other wardens that are also here for you. Lights out at 10pm, 11pm for weekends and be mindful of your neighbours.” Nodding and as she makes leave.  

Turning around finding Himari there, I’ve never gotten used to people calling me by my last name it all sounds too formal and wrong plus it sounds like my dad. Shaking off that feeling, I watch her do a small welcoming bow, I also remember to do the same. Ah, customs and traditions must be upheld at all costs, I need to remember that America has ruined me for it.  

“L/n Y/n, but please just call me Y/n... oh and I came here from America but I’m actually from England.” I could cringe from the awkward silence as the girl continues to stare at me.  

Jesus, I know I'm attractive but please stop, maybe this is how people feel when I stare at them only to learn I was staring off into space and now feel like the fool. Maybe so but still, thankfully she removes her iron gaze from me for another day and smiles, she graciously helps me with unpacking and that’s where we get chatting. Telling me all the wonderful ins and outs of the school not that I know already but it doesn’t hurt to have insider knowledge, this speeds up the process tenth fold and by that point she asks if I want a look around.  

How can I say no to her?  

“Y/n-chan, we should get going, Shiratorizawa is a big school and dinner time starts at 6pm.” She stutters out my name, she obviously isn’t used to referring to someone as their first name.   

I swear Japanese culture is weird, then again, I have been living in western countries all my life. Cultural changes have been happening since I was born, my mother dearest being a traditional Japanese woman wanted all her children to learn and speak her native tongue, to my dad wanting us to be adventurers and live life to the fullest. Change is hard to get used to but for me it’s as easy as the pressing wind, I've always had to do it why stop now. I go to grab my sweater and make my way out of the dorm with Himari in front, because obviously I don’t know when or how to say no.   

We walk around the huge campus and by God do I emphasize the word huge, scratch that I am very thankful Himari is taking me around the school. I’m already picturing myself getting lost here a hundred times over, I shall start praying to the Gods as of now. We already circled half of the school, the only places that are left are the gyms and some more on the third-year blocks. Himari already reassured me that most third-year classes stay in that block which relieves some of my anxiety of minimising my chances of me finding Narnia.   

“Is there anything for me to be worried about tomorrow?” I turn to my short chibi friend, she looks up and pauses before her entire face lights up.  

Light bulb moment for someone over here.  

“Oh yes there is actually, it’s probably for the best to stay away from the boys’ volleyball club or their fangirls will murder you.”   

I make a face, does that even happen nowadays, or am I living in my own story here where there are cliché groups of girls that fawn over the most God-like boys in school. I can’t help but to burst out into a fit of laughter this only freaks the hell out of Himari. Oh, the faces that she makes only increase her cuteness tenth fold. I then feel a nudge to my side as I soon look up to see an old white-haired man that leans with a hunch and appears to be the same height as Himari over here walking towards us. He’s wearing the schools owned tracksuit of white and burgundy and if I can see that right that says Coach for the boys' volleyball club.   

“Takeshi-san, so this is where you have been hiding all this time, I was growing impatient waiting outside the boy’s gym.” His stern cold voice frightens little Himari here and that’s when I decide he’s on my shit-list.   

While I stand here just used to it, dad would talk like that sometimes back at home, well in America but here a teacher talking to a student that way, that’s not on. I think that’s when he notices me, that’s right he cranes his head as far as he can reach to see me and my smugness, if he notices he doesn’t say. The old geezer actually smiles my way, ew, gross; I hate old people. His wrinkles crease up around his mouth and eyes in doing so, if I could vomit I would.  

“L/n-san I presume?” I should roll my eyes, but I think I'm more shocked that he knows who I am more.  

A bit confused I nod anyway, oh what the hell he’s probably seen my file anyway. I watch as he takes a few steps closer into my vicinity my body grows itchy to step back but I hold firm anyway. He grunts as if he looks me up and down like some prized mare, but I know those eyes all too well, it’s the eyes of someone seeing potential. I've been staring into those eyes my whole life because stop now and add a weird old Japanese man into the mix.  

“My name is Coach Washijo, and I coach the boys' volleyball team.” Oh shit, he’s- “I’m a friend of your fathers and I believe I've also trained your three brothers into the players they are today as well.” Well fuck.  

He just has to be  that  old guy that trained those bastards, don’t get me wrong I can’t wait to see his training in action but from the horror stories that I’ve heard already I just can’t seem to wait. The trauma inflicted onto these boys is the icing on the cake to polishing their talents and hard work to the limits.  

“I was going to wait for you to come over to meet me at the gym but now that I've got you here, there’s an open vacancy for manager in the club it’s yours if you want it.” his harsh voice never seems to fade away even after having my greetings with him, I turn to Himari, and she gives me the look.  

The look all women know, a non-verbal communication that we’ve learnt to adapt to situations like these and hers scream ‘danger’. But I have the heart to tell her otherwise because that’s the one thing I came here for, to this school. I just want to know if this school is keeping up with the times and what better position than that is to be the manager, in the thick of the training and overseeing it with my trained eyes. Far better than the narrow-sighted ones of the coach here that’s never seen plays like I have.  

“So, when do I start?”

Chapter Text

The school uniform could be better or maybe that’s just me not having worn one since I was twelve, bloody hell I feel like I'm being suffocated, and I've already checked if the size was right three times already?! These pleated skirts are doing my head in just how short they are, and at this point you’ll be able to see my ass cheeks not that I’m mad though the boys can look all they want just can’t touch. But I don’t particularly want to be prancing around like some slut on my very first day then again, I might as well ruffle some feathers while I’m at it.  

Currently making my way to class after Himari had helped me to the third-year block not even a day after having a tour with her and I still need help, yikes. Her class is just one after mine thankfully but that also means being thrown into the deep end like some penguin jumping off the iceberg for the first time. That's fun. Luckily, I'm only in class 3 so if I need help, she’s always a call away but from our chats I'm getting the feeling she’s very much introverted.  

Stepping into class and immediately the entire room quietens, damn I never knew I had that effect on people, all eyes home in on me. Rather than cower away from them like a scared little lamb would and I'm guessing bitchy Janet would love to see. I stride towards the back near the window like the damn main character that I am and wait, questions are for later but now I like to see how people will react to me.  

I am a force to be reckoned with after all.  

Soon the good old teacher rocks up to class and I just know everyone is waiting for my audition to class like some helpless little sod. He calls me up and as I walk past a few eyes catching, tasty men catch my attention, a really hot one and a sleepy one; oh my God they’re only a few rows away from me. Tall, muscular and from this distance I can safely assume huge, big in my eyes and nothing else can be small about him. Short olive hair, neutral if not passive aggressive resting bitch face, this hot guy sits straighter than any pin boy in here with his crisp ironed-out uniform. I need a man that knows his way around an ironing board or me on that board for that matter. The other guy lounges as if he’s never heard of a sleep cycle before, faded sides and spiky brown hair screams fuckboy energy and maybe when I feel fruity, I'll let him ride this stallion.  

“Hello, my name is L/n Y/n, but please feel free to call me by my first name. I’ve recently moved here from America and would really appreciate it if you would treat me well.” many of the students blink profusely at my welcoming statement, I'm beginning to think many people in rural Japan have never heard of being bilingual before.  

Bowing I return to my seat and this time it’s not just eyes of curiosity streaming my way oh no, I feel their gazes, heated and seething to rule above me. Oh boy are they about to have the time of their lives meeting me and once the bell rings and first period begins the pigeons flock over for self-study. Some vultures and whilst others – extremely sexy boys - stick close to the bubble I know they’re leaning in closely.   

Everyone likes a bit of gossip.  

“So, what’s America like?” The first question out of many asking me whether I know Lady Gaga or surprisingly enough am her. Others asked if my skin colour is real some even thinking it was funny to rub my hand to see if it would ‘come off’.  

During the whole curious-fest I know the cats are leaning in close to the edge waiting for their time to pounce, and oh wow does she have some melons on her. I can’t really talk when I look at my own chest but that’s a different story entirely. Chuggers over here with her bouncing breasts and extremely short if not cloth like handkerchief of a skirt graze my desk, I'm guessing that’s a lovely view of her white lacey thong down there for everyone to see.  

“Am I right in guessing you’re related to that famous professional volleyball player?” Whipping back her horrendous corn like hair that looks more parched than her layered cherry lips.  

Everyone quietens for the big girl is talking, which is cute.  

Side eyeing my audience trying to be real conspicuous while they’re slipping off their seats to hear my response including some other students chewing at their nails to find out if a real-life celebrity is studying amongst them. I chuckle to myself.  

“It depends, which one?” Leaning my face onto my palm I watch with amusement as the entire bubble erupts into gasps and gossips about my family.  

Here we go again, I guess.  

Chuggers takes the seat in front of me with well by the force of the hierarchy revealing itself to me in the classroom, everyone else filters around her and her posse. Time to act nice it seems and after a while I guess she throws her gig out the window and the true bitch comes to the surface when I stop playing ball. Soon everybody else gets the picture that I'm not some new kid waiting to lick the boots of sheep when I can be the fucking dragon roasting them alive.  

Turning my attention back and flipping that fucking switch to thousand I turn and find the delicious treats called ‘Japanese high school boys 'sitting patiently and scribbling away at their textbooks. I think they’re ignoring me since they got what they needed to in the first place but that doesn’t stop me, no it only fuels my efforts even more.  

 “Oi, sleepyhead you wanna spend 7 minutes in heaven with me?” To that he looks my way blushing like a tomato with his jaw slacked to the floor, I urge my finger at hottie, and he stiffens.  

Perfect best to kill two birds with one stone.   

Many of the students at this point halt in their movements whilst they find my escapades endearing and amusing to witness. That's right ladies watch and learn as the master works her stuff.   

“What about you hot stuff? Do you wanna join in, I can make it work with two?” looking them both up and down, tugging my bottom lip between my teeth letting it slip.  

Winking at them and spreading my legs into a cross as my pleated skirt shifts to rise allowing for more thigh highs to fill the space of my seat. I watch as they both audibly gulp and try, big word there, as they try to tear their eyes away from the feast but sadly, they succeed. Valiant effort on my part I do say so myself.  

Even they can’t hide their embarrassment as I chew my cheek watching them both blow up in pink, the pause in the room is stifling and just as I'm about to add the green giant says otherwise.  

“No.” Well that was short and snappy, I can admire him for that forward reply and maybe pique my interest in him further.  

Still, the sleepy one has yet to reply and with much luck I won’t be going back to my dorm empty handed, the bell rings and I get up from my desk and tap his.  

“I’ll be waiting sleepyhead.” Giving him a wink, in which leaves the poor boy in a melting wreck of deep shades of red.  

Second period    

English class, oh this should be a joy. Walking in only to find my luck in some more astoundingly beautiful boys than before, even in managing on snagging a seat next to one of them. Allowing their eyes to rake all over the new girl as I do to them in return, it’s only fair. Licking my lips at the gorgeous bean sitting next to me, a white fox with frosted black tips, a slender muscular build and those fingers. Long and slender just the right size for precarious shenanigans and setting if I’ve still got a good eye for spotting them in a crowd. The one behind me is a pretty little red head and he’s not little by any means necessary but a sort of twisted beauty smiling back at me.  

Damn I am in the mood of getting my guts rearranged by the joker impersonator over here if he calls for slashing, of course.  

“Hello there, little cutie, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before.” He waves at me with the curling of his fingers.   

Restraining the urge to nibble at those delectable treats, I want to suck them and have them have their way with me elsewhere all over my body if I had my way. Biting my lip as fully I engross myself into these boys that I find myself surrounded in, what can I say I’m just some lucky bitch. Perching my head on the back of my hand and resting most of my weight upon the back of the chair, twirling my hair in the other hand.  

“No, I don’t think that we’ve had the pleasure, I’m new here and my name is Y/n, please treat me well.” Purring out as I lean over to shake his hands them being just as I imagined, perfect in dishing me out.  

Wondering what they could do to me, both twinning up with their positions front and back and chasing their ends with me, it gets me scrunching my thighs together as pleasure hits me hard. The red head grins from ear to ear and if I didn’t find that smile extremely attractive, I would be running away screaming like the madman I am.  

“The names Tendo Satori but please-”  

“Feel free to ignore that guy. My name is Semi Eita and I guess we’ll be seatmates from now on.” the seductive white fox interrupts whatever Tendo had going on for him and honestly steals the show for me.  

Bowing softly at the two of them I retrieve Semi’s hand in my own and I'm not left disappointed, these are definitely the hands of an athlete. Long rough callouses that shape most of his finger pads press circles atop my smooth hands. These two definitely know how play around with a ball or two, that being their own or a volleyball.  

“Alrighty cutie, let me guess you two play volleyball?” The boys' cheeks flourish in pink as they vigorously nod.  

I think this is becoming my new past time, how many times can I make these boys blush. I think I'm setting myself up for a clean victory and maybe even a snack if they take the bait and let me feast. Tendo looks at me with one of those grins that screams ‘this girl is interesting’ and all I can do is wink and wave at the boy. I'm not going to say that I'm not like the other girls because please who is normal but I just know what I want and when I want it, so please call me a bitch but at least I'm no sheep that goes barrrr.  

Before we can continue our little chat the teacher strolls in and class begins, I get asked about a question and no shocker to anyone in the room that I manage to pronounce it right. Honestly, I think it’s just the teacher wanting an example of what an actual English-speaking person sounds like rather than me answering a question.  

Third period  

Funny enough it turns out me and Tendo here have the next class together so of course I follow him like a tick to a blood bag. Not only is he a joker look alike but has the sense of humour of a dark knight, and I'm not surprised when he tattles about his team. No one gets him yet I can see that he’s moved past caring what people think and only lives for himself, I can see him being a good friend and that’s on me playing my cards wrong.  

There's no way in hell I'm letting this slenderman creep away from me into the friendzone without pinching that ass a few times. Me and him try to enjoy history class but there's only so much that I can take about the Onion war or maybe it’s the Onin war, whatever lunch is so close around the corner that my mind travels elsewhere. I know exactly what I'm having for lunch, eyes flicking up and down at the string bean himself right now, his back hunched over his desk and damn those arms are long than my thighs.   

I think I have a blocker on my hands.  

Lunch    

Thankfully my list of gratitude's grows longer as Tendo shows me the way to the cafeteria after having messaged Himari to save me a spot, and I think this is where I realise his true beauty. This fucker is as tall as a giant, taller than me and taller than any guy I've ever met, I can easily imagine he has no trouble touching the ceiling with his whole palm if I asked him to. Tall and lanky, great for the blocker position in volleyball with those slenderman limbs and by God those thighs. Hidden away in his slacks I can only picture the way they contort to each thud of his step, rippling with muscled tension.  

Quickly ripping my gaze up and away when I faintly overhear the light chatter of snickering children by the end corridor, of course Barbera and the gang thinks something is funny. I mean come on I know I'm a walking and talking clown but you don’t have to hide your laughter not that pig snort could be hidden anyway.  

Finally making our way into the canteen and I think I have some sort of short-term memory loss because I blink profusely at the sheer size of this place. Just how many students can fit in here? It feels bigger than the O2 stadium. You can tell when a school is definitely rolling in the dollar-dollar bills. We take our places in the queue, this is where my eyes linger around quickly finding the crowd that gets my pussy throbbing.   

I'm a hoe, I know.  

The green giant from before and including fuckboy o’clock sits with Semi and the rest I'm assuming is the volleyball team, now this is interesting. You know what they say, smile and wave boys, smile and wave. I must have been doing it aggressively to the point where Tendo looks over his eyes creasing into a furrow.  

“Who are you wavi- oh you know Wakatoshi-kun and the others?” surprised to finally get a name for the big boy over there.  

Licking my lips when my work pays off with a slight blush cascading down upon his face as well as the rest of the team when a I throw in a cheeky wink in there for a simple pat on the back. Wakatoshi, I think that’s him, the one with olive hair turns over and connects the dots like a good boy with that per-usual deep frown coating his lips. I gotta say there are some tasty ass boys in this school, unlike America where I'm almost guaranteed some typical white boy shit.  

Taking my chances, I turn to Tendo finding his close proximity just right, leaning in I watch as his entire face flickers in fifty shades of pink as my tongue flicks his nose. Startled he rises back to his full length if not even higher like an elongated spring whilst pinching his blazer cuff and wipes my precious site. Spoil sport, but cute.  

“Oh boy do I know them; I know the big one and the one that’s practically inhaling his noodles from self-study class.” Tendo struggles to comprehend what just happened including the new found information, I'm beginning to like this new startled look of his.  

But I do like painting it of shades red and pink in many different hues.  

“Why did, did you do that?” Stuttering on his words, trying so desperately to make out a full sentence, I just walk past him patting his arm.  

He blooms further into his blush.  

He pauses before adding, “You’re very interesting.”  

Grabbing the black tray and bringing up my desired food of ramen and some apple slices, I bid goodbye to my travel partner for now to find my lovely roommate. Himari stops and waves me over to the far side of the hall where I see that she’s not alone an even cuter chibi character taken straight out of a comic sits adjacent to her. Taking the seat opposite them quickly finding them both to be very quiet and introverted and even if my heart pounds as my tray hits the table.  

“Oh hello, my name is L/n Y/n but please feel free to call me Y/n I just find it weird otherwise but I don’t mind either.” Yikes. I need to work on my people skills a bit more.  

Cringing with a smile I covertly – try – look over my new found friend, that’s because she is now mine forever and I'll never let her go. I notice her cute round features topped off with her circular glasses whilst her tray is pushed to the side barely touched and piles of books takes its place. Ah, bookworm.   

Bowing my head her way trying not to come off any more than friendly, soon enough she tells me her name is Hashirama Yui and that she’s part of the chemistry club which does explain the books. Somehow or another I manage to get her to give me her number after many back-and-forth's of getting her to open up some more. She and Himari were just chatting about my new position as part of the volleyball club.  

“Now how did you even get it? Most girls, if not all in this school would kills and - I don’t literally - or not for that position.” Yui leans forwards whispering that part about them beings serious or not, I can’t withhold the smirk any longer.  

Despite the poor girl being unable to hold one hundred percent eye contact with me or that most of her words came out jumbled or spat out too fast, I just can’t help but like this girl anymore. I just shrug, leaning back into my seat already done with lunch whilst half my gaze lingers on the backs of the volleyball lot. I'm sure they can feel it and know who’s looking.  

“With my charm and good lucks, of course. Plus, there was no way in hell that I was going to pass the chance at seeing the godly bodies of those guys be passed up like a cocktail.” Wiggling my eyebrows at that they both fluster red.  

Pointing at the table to even prove my point further, both Himari and Yui turn around facing the boys noticing that they’ve all stopped to watch the show. Tendo waves and so do I, even giving him a wink or two. Wakatoshi? Goes back to his food unfazed and not even batting an eye at me, I guess that one will need some greasing up before coming to like me. We all swivel back around, laughing at their explosive blush covering each of their cheeks.  

“This is so exciting; it’s already making me so wet inside.” they both splutter out their drinks and whatever the two of them were munching on and spew the contents all onto me.  

They begin grovelling and profusely apologizing; hm chicken noodles. Getting up I tell them that it’s fine but that they should start getting used to that sort of behaviour because that’s just me in a nutshell, I'm a right old nutter and a half. Going to my dorm, changing into a spare shirt as I text them not to wait up for me.  

Fourth period  

I barely make it by the skin of my teeth in time for maths, taking up the last remaining chair sad to find it up in the front. But those feelings are short lived when I find out my seatmate is none other than hot stuff from self-study class. To be honest who even cares about my maths when I have the rippling body of a god besides me taking all my undivided attention away from it. God damn his eyes are indeed olive just like his hair, I can imagine now my fingernails raking through the coarse – fine – silky hair? I don’t know and I don’t care I just want to touch it.  

“I guess we can have that seven minute in heaven now after school, huh?”  popping one of my all-time greatest smoulders and wink at the boy only for the bullets to bounce off his iron walls.  

I don’t know maybe he’s a tough nut to crack but lucky for him I have a nutcracker on my hands and I love to squeeze them. Maths grows mundane and boring as maths can get and I'm not going to lie I picked up about three percent of what the teacher just said. That's British and American school system for you, it’s shit. Writing down most of the lecture in my book with the writing worse than most doctor notes with only the formulas written by the hands of a God.  

But like I said most of my attention is elsewhere, that being right next to me and I'm not even upset by it. Upset that he won’t look at me but damn sure am I happy to look at him. Thick arms bulge the tight blazer, as if the fabric was sculpted around his form, the button over his chest struggles to keep the sinking ship afloat. Please trap me against a wall now, with your lower half pressed firmly and deeply into my groin and grind there. Yes please, I would like that to go.  

He's tanned and not just the - I stepped outside for thirty minutes tanned – but he’s got that natural dark skin that’s already got that golden haze to it. Or maybe that’s just his sweat either way I want to lick it and have his taste savouring upon my lips. Not only that but his chest is broad as well as his shoulders, I'm not forgetting the pin straight posture from before. Nibbling nearly all the way through my pencil, and I think some dribble smears my work a few times as I get lost in his trance.  

Not that he needs to spell one out, the poor sucker pretends as if my existence is better off as air, at least he’ll be breathing me in so that’s a win on my behalf. Sadly, the class comes to an end and just before he gets up to leave my sights for the day, I slip in my number on a scrap piece of paper doubting much will come from my many efforts of today. It's okay, he’s a slow burner and I'm not here for a short time but for a long time.  

Last period  

Sadly, the last class have no golden gems in them both male and female leave me dryer than the Sahara Desert. At least I manage to pay attention, even chatting with some people. Look at me making friends. Now I'm springing my way towards the only gym that will be my home for the next year.  

Chapter Text

Bouncing into the boy's gymnasium is an over glorification of how I ripped the metallic doors off their hinges in my adrenaline rush to see them. To Inhale their manly reek of sweat and volleyball aerosols, I know I’m a freak by nature, it’s just how momma made me.

All commotion in the gym comes to a halt in an epic slow-motion drill as all the little lads' swivel on their heels and bask in all my glory. Well, they’re not little by any means, my eyes tear their clothes to shreds as they rake up from their Asics trainers to their purple shorts that cuddle tightly around each thigh all the way up to their sweat induced black tops. Oh, yes, I can already feel the tingles swell at my pussy and my legs begin to tremble.

Some balls are dropped, literally and figuratively when their hawk like eyes home in on me walking up to coach, a tired smile of a man wrinkles his wrinkles around his upper lip. The crowd goes wild, drop-dead silence cries out in the back when their jaws drop down to hell. Standing a foot away I find all eyes are on me even the green giant, Wakatoshi-kun? Is that his last name? Either way heart eyes pop out of my eye sockets once I see the number 1 bib on his chest, oh my I always knew I was a cliché bitch but please really, the goddamn captain!

I may as well star in my very own high school romcom at this point. The impossible life of Y/n.

Bowing to all of them, coach Washijo beckons everyone over to listen up, from my position every new and recognised face turns to look at me. Oh, there are some lookers and baby-faced boys here, looking too tasty to even take a nibble out of them.

“This here is your new manager,” Coach turns to me, his short stature against all these big guys as well as the teaching advisor makes it difficult in holding in a giggle or two. “L/n Y/n, you may recognise that name from the L/n family players, former alumni of this school and now international S league players.”

I watch as if not all the players eyes change from ‘who’s this pretty little thing?’ to ‘goddamn a new monster to deal with.’. Maybe that or the look of someone finding out there is bigger, much scarier monsters outside these hills, the world is a big scary place after all. But I do like that new fire in their eyes the minute coach sells me to the highest bidder not like these boys are on the same level to even try but I do appreciate the enthusiasm.

“She will not only be your manager, but she will be scrutinising all your plays, forms and skills for you lot to be the best. Understood.” The last part never came out as a question but a demand.

Which makes me wonder, how have these boys not gone crazy yet from all his yapping? Either way they all without a beat come out with a ‘Hai!’. Soldiers to a beckoning hand.

One by one they all begin to introduce themselves, each one of them bowing at a near missing nighty degree angle, one’s black round bangs circumference around his face. Hanging like a curtain or a bowl cut, yep that’s his name now.

“Ohayo! My, my name is, is Gogogogoshiki Tsutomu, first year and I play wing spiker and I'm going to be the next great ace of this team.” without a beat his cherry cheeks fluster the moment he looks back up, and I think I hear his back click with the velocity of him springing back into a needle.

Cute.

Smiling at the next one which immediately diminishes it into a deep passive frown when his passive aggressive smug little face connects with mine, I have the sudden urge to kick him in the balls. Grab those shitty bangs and spit in his face, I hold this urge with a clench of my fist, gritting my teeth.

“Shirabu Kenjiro, second year and setter.” Oh, we’re going to have a problem.

Mumbling his name out as if he’s spitting it in my face; I'm quite lucky to even hear it to be honest. Craning my neck up just like I did with Tendo finding the next boy in line catching inches as if it’s like playing rock-paper-scissors and he’s constantly winning. Tall and a little mopey this one shivers under my gaze as if despite his height he can sense the inferiority complex burdening his shoulders the longer he gazes upon me. I learn his name is Kawanishi Taichi, a second year that plays middle blocker.

Turning my attention onto the next guy finding him very pleasant to look at, the very definition of tall dark and handsome and his build. Fuck me now daddy. There's no exaggeration with this one, his vibe is telling me he’s well-rounded player that plays well with others, lean mean and definitely can rearrange my guts if he asked disrespectfully, of course.

“Ohira Reon, third year and a wing spiker.” I definitely didn’t catch any of that when I got punched in the gut by his deep smooth voice.

Licking my lips, I turn to the next in the long line of tasters however finding most of them to be those I already had the pleasure of meeting. Despite being damn fine with the whole do-over thing the jam-packed schedule does not have room for anymore chitchat that’s any more than necessary.

Tendo is a middle blocker; Semi is a setter or former now only demoted to a pinch server. The captain, hot stuff over here is also the ace which is quite unusual for the captain but to each of their own, I guess. At least I finally get his name now, Ushijima Wakatoshi, and fuckboy from earlier is Yamagata Hayato, the libero, tall for one.

Pivoting on my heel the others gasp from behind me at the blasphemous act of me changing out of my tracksuit only stopping when a hand clasp firmly on my shoulder. Gazing down at the callouses of the naturally tanned fingers cupping over my skin, I can’t help the smirk peeking out towards his frisky behaviour. Fully looking around finding nearly every kind of red face to ever exist peering around some hiding behind their fingers.

Oh my God, am I actually dealing with dorks?

“There are changing rooms over there, it’s deeply inappropriate to be changing here.” My brow rises, oh look whose sexualising me now.

He points towards a separate building to which I'm assuming is both the male and female changing rooms for the volleyball club. Peering back towards him now never did the thought cross my mind because back home people aren’t so prudish. You're going down in the world captain.

“Don’t worry babes I've got shorts on underneath but if you really want to see me naked you got to do it first, that’s just how the dice rolls.” Winking at his unchanging passive resting bitch face the others literally bleed out.

Puckering my lips finally revealing my spandex for the crowd to see however finding each one of them less attractive because of it, I saunter over towards the ball crate and push it to my side. Hand on hip, head held high looking everyone square in the eyes where a small flicker of termination rests there.

“Now then you sexy beasts line up and get ready for some receives,” Pausing as I grab a red volleyball and bring it up to point at them. “If any of you fail to receive them then I get your phone numbers. Ready?”

Wide eyed like a deer in head lights their smug little faces barely light up with much intimidation as they line up one by one starting of course with hot stuff, Ushijima.

They must think so little of me and overestimate their capabilities when facing a little old fresh face girl. Did my family name mean nothing to them, I’ve been playing with my brothers since I came out of my momma's vagina. But still, this isn’t new, many players, boys mostly, oversee that part and only see what’s staring right in front of them. A young woman that apparently knows next to nothing about volleyball and the difference between a male spike to a female. Oh, how I love bursting their little bubble and showering them in lava for thinking such things.

Taking a few breaths in and out before taking a few steps back and watching as the ball tosses up high into the air, my body moves on muscle memory. I’ve done this serve a thousand times over and can never get over the sheer power it feeds me especially when I’m crushing opponents. The small run up that I’m allowed to make as the ball comes back into focus, my vertical jump springs me high. My arm rounds in a circular motion flicking my wrist and slamming the ball directly off my palm and catapulting straight into Ushijima’s left shoulder. I watch it ricochet from punching straight into his body and bounce off outside of the court, he slams backwards onto the ground beneath him right on his ass.

I can’t help the smug grin I pull as I soak up everyone’s shocked faces in the gym.

“Time to pay up hot stuff.” My handsprings out gesturing for him to pay his dues there, the rest of them however all shuffle looking wearier eyed than before.

Time to rattle some bitches.

Let’s just say by the end of practice I gather everyone’s phone numbers satisfying my hunger for the day. Not even one of them could receive my service aces and watching as those smug little faces fade into dust might be the highlight of my day thus far. Whilst all the boys run away to change, I turn to coach where already his grim face twists in a hopeful gleam, great he wants praise for that shit storm.

“What do you think?” I would laugh right about now but I withhold it giving my silence an answer enough.

That should have been rhetorical, there was nothing to think but ‘is this really what Japan’s got to offer? Or was dad just up-selling a crap school.’ Either way there is much to be done with the boys if they even want to win nationals, because as far as I know they’ve not even gotten close to that point just yet. Not in the years the ‘Great Ushijima Wakatoshi’ has been around in.

“Wherever you plucked these boys from might need a refund, some of their receiving forms are atrocious, relying mostly on instincts and never enough of intuition when deciding how to handle the serve at the given moment in time.” His arms fold, huffing. “Not enough split-second decision making going on either allowing them to make better plays. I see where your ideal ‘polishing on their strengths’ tactic is lacking, you can’t ignore the possibility of whether they could be better by applying stronger strategies to their weaknesses.” Watching as the longer I talk the more annoyed and borderline angry he gets with me, a tug on my upper lip must be restrained because of it.

At least I’m getting somewhere.

“However, it’s too early to say whether it’s working or not, I’ll have to see them play to better understand them and their dynamics. Then I’ll make my judgements.” My gaze lands on the far door where it swings open, Ushijima appears with Shirabu by his side, oh some late-night practice to sour his thoughts in.

What a goody two shoes.

“Besides I look forward to breaking their spirits and making their faces red.” Coach grunts besides me, I don’t miss for a second the glare Shirabu sends my way.

Oh, we’re definitely having a chat tomorrow.

“I wouldn’t expect anything else; you are your fathers' daughter.” He pulls out a large grey folder handing it to me. “These are the boy's medical history and statical analysis since they’ve been here. Practice starts at six.” his curt answer gives me enough information about me pissing off his pride to the seventh dimension, nodding along I partially read over the contents of the file.

This will be an interesting read, at least a small insight into how these boys got here and what weakness they have. I've learnt to better understand myself from working through my failures by never giving up, not heavily relying on others but at the same time not ostracising myself from the group. I found my weakness to become one of my greatest strengths and these boys will soon learn that either the easy way or the hard way.

Heading back to the dorm surprised to find the lounge area currently occupied by Himari and Yui both of whom too spaced out on the fluffy bean bag and the sofa to realise an intruder. More so the roommate, I nod once Yui feels my presence before heading into my room and stripping, it’s been one hell of a long day and I need to shower, relax then look at the file.

So, that’s what I do. I'm not about to sit back and enjoy the rest of the evening sitting in my own filth, sweat and grime from doing twenty something service aces like I'm guzzling water. Even the greats get tired after something like that. Walking out of the shower not really thinking much of it I head into the small kitchenette that only houses a microwave and a coffee maker. I’m not much of a bitter coffee drinker but after the day I’ve had I need to wake up for the long night I’m about to go into.

“Oh, Y/n-chan you’re baaaaahhhhh!” Himari flings her notebook high into the air whilst she drops to her knees as if they buckled beneath her weight.

Turning around I can’t help the onslaught of laughter bawling out of my mouth as she continues to rise in a beat red colouring of her cheeks, hiding behind her hands. She trembles mumbling to herself about some nonsense that I can’t on good conscience deter from. Have I just killed her with my naked body, I think so too, however the next person that I wholly didn’t realise that was within the room was Yui-chan.

“Is Himari okay?” Blinking several times at the unfazed girl returning to her – higher level physic textbook – this goddamn girl is on a whole other level than the rest of us idiots.

She sits snug on the pink fluffy bean bag chair pushed up into the cubby corner between the wall and the TV, the image of a hamster pops in. She really gives no fucks about the female naked body but spurts out her chowder whenever I as much mutter out an innuendo.

“Yui, check if Himari is still alive would ya, I’m going to get changed.” Walking past the still embarrassed girl flattened like a bug on the ground, overstepping her completely.

Taking out a spare set of joggers and an oversized tee I make a start with the folder and noting down all the wrongs and weaknesses the boys currently believe that they don’t have.

The next day decides to roll over and submit to the dewing overpass and rolling clouds. I've got to admit the early start really did a rocket kick start to my engines; God I haven’t woken up that early since my school days in England. Dragging my ass out of the comforts of my very warm and very snuggly bed, snagging my notes from my desk already foreseeing their reactions.

They aren’t going to like what I have to say about them.

Strolling into the gym grimacing immediately once I see some open-mouthed yawns and some of the boys sticking their hands down their shorts, lovely I’m sure their penis is loving the fondle. Looking away a little bit disgusted that I just saw that, I swear boys are the same everywhere in any country. Some however AKA green bean on the court have already begun practice, right me and Shirabu need to have a little chat.

Heading over to coach the team automatically rounds up around us, well that speeds up things a little faster. Some of whom – Shirabu – already take quick analysis of the notes hanging loosely in my hand, I'll be sure to start with him first. Others are while too busy heaving for oxygen and pat their foreheads down by the hem of their shirts and I'm definitely not discouraging the welcoming sight of abs dripping in sweat.

I welcome the tingles with open arms as I flip through the pages landing on the grumpy as fuck setter, what a better way to start my day by ruining his and that puts a smile on my face. Looking back up once again pinpointing the moment that he knows I'm about to ruin this very good day for him, I've always been a petty bitch it’s just right that he knows not to mess with me again.

“Shirabu your stats look good having after all pushing a former third year setter from his regular rank within the troop, I say you’re a trooper.” My smile grows wider as I give him a thumbs up and continue.

“But that’s where it dies, you only make plays that suit the current ace making the others having to work harder to pick up your slack. Don't even get me started on your easy to rip temper, just look at you, looking at me like you want to rip my throat out. It’s called criticism, babes.” ending with an offhanded smirk I watch as the rest of the team blows a fuse or two all of which turning to their coach for some support.

Oh no, that poor bastard is on my side, I don’t even have to look at him to know such a thing. I feel the reassuring hand grazing my shoulder the others soon learning to shut their traps up real fast. My gaze moves off from the salty motherfucker crying literal grains to the captain, I would’ve started with him first, but Shirabu pisses me off.

“Captain, right? More like self-centred prick, there’s no ‘I in team’ not only are you the captain but the ace to boot, you have great power and for a being a lefty as well some lucky forthcomings but that too isn’t enough.” His frown deepens and I'm surprised to be a little turned on from the show he’s displaying.

Prance those feathers, boy.

“Carrying the team doesn’t mean to be the only single shooter out here, you have four other players to do that whilst your poor libero here is working overtime not because you’re slacking but because he’s got no balls to receive.” Some of the boy's smirk with me.

Taking a stand towards him I hand over the file in which I take astronomical delight in watching his frown deepen his pores if only the wind was here to make it solidify in place. The boy next to him shivers the moment my curt nod refers to the slip in front of me, ah, Semi-semi.

“I guess it’s a hard pill to swallow knowing you’re never adequate to stay on the team all because you lean more on the showy aspects of gameplay and less on the articulate side of things.” His face hardens presumably with tears brimming at his lids.

Sighing away I look down at his stats again, he may not be the setter the team needs right now but he is still a damn good player, just look at his serve's progression over the last year since being demoted. He's an impressive player, and despite the guilt I look up at him now with a welcoming smile.

“But there’s nothing wrong with being a little cocky now is there?” Handing him his file he flusters slightly at the sudden affection.

The current setter clicks his tongue.

Next his Ohira the tasty son of a bitch from early, skimming over his notes briefly only because I want to look at his divine skin and lick him clean. His thick brows furrow, my eyes trailing all around him wondering what else is thick.

“Ohira, you’re good, great even. Everybody loves an all-rounder when it comes to the court; you need a backbone somewhere but are you just lying to cover up your lazy behaviour. I know big shocker to the most of you but when your little captain here is flying to his own drum not letting anything past him, what are you doing whilst that’s happening. Stargazing?” both Ushijima and Ohira exchange a look to each other whilst the others drop sweat in the background.

The room begins to feel that much hotter as everyone’s fuses begin to blow after the rest of the run down from everyone, not even poor little Goshiki was safe. The boy's despite being irritated soak up the criticism like a sponge to water and turn away from me when suddenly a bright idea dawn upon me.

“Wait!” all movement halts, cranking their head around with full-blown suspicion coating their faces.

“If you don’t improve by the end of the week then you’ll all have to send me a spicy photo of yourself.” My eyebrows wiggle in that lovely suggestive way, some of them choke on nothing. “If you refuse then I can’t guarantee your safety” I crack my knuckles to emphasise the real punishment ahead.

A resounding gulp echoes within the room.

But who knew that the coach would step forward besides me with his own devilish wicked smile as the only sinners in this team filled with angel wannabe’s.

“You heard her, fail to improve and you might as well say goodbye to your position here on Shiratorizawa boy’s volleyball team.” His hard curt tone cuts shivers to the bone for most the little lads here.

Sneering at them this thankfully wakes them up and out of their fantastical daydream and head onto the court finally to begin their practice. All but one remains, head held low whilst his lip quivers between his teeth, Semi stands close as I near the bench to begin my duties. Is he constipated, or maybe he needs to go cry? Whatever it is he’s holding up the line of my day running smoothly.

“What is it? If it’s about the nudes then by all means get it out of the way now so I know who to prioritise within the group.” He flinches, standing a little closer now finally looking me in the eye.

Looking him up and down, no cutie like him should shrivel up into themselves like this. Whatever it is better be worth that lack of pride and confidence.

“No, actually I want your input on how to improve my serves because like you said that’s all what’s going for me at the moment.” His voice cracks and somewhere inside I feel a little sorry for him.

Where’s that fire in his eyes gone from yesterday, it can’t be little old me telling him how it is to bring him down so low. If so then I wonder what else I can do for these boys self-esteem.

“Sure, I’ll help but by no means will it be a walk in the park,” throwing my duffle bag to the bench alongside my notes.

“Because I’ll go Sparta on you.” He shivers but nods nonetheless.

The rest of morning practice after that fixes by smoothly enough to be release from the torturous teachings of that old fool early. Some of the boys walk past me like I’m air whilst only Yamagata, Tendo and Semi thank me for my hard work. I’ve got a long road ahead of me for them to reach so far up their own asses to dig out the stick dislodged up there.

The day goes by like any other whilst I still did manage to get lost in some parts of the day, thankfully not for long as I soon got my sense of direction back. It’s only when the bell rings and clubs begin does the gut twisting feeling settle, something up. Heading down towards the gym I already hear faint chatter close to the doors, at first I think it’s them messing around only when I look through the crack do I see most of the team talking to coach.

About me.

Didn’t know I was a topic to even mention about to the old fool but then again I did piss these boys off by not coddling them like he does.

“Coach please listen to us, L/n-san is vulgar, inappropriate, disrespectful and… some of us feel uncomfortable having her around us.” Oh wow I didn’t know it was hate on Y/n day all because little old me stepped on a few toes.

If they can’t even take my light hearted banter and criticism they’re not worth my time, I’m here as a favour and here they are being ungrateful bastards. Soldiers to a beckoning hand my arse they can hardly walk without needing a crutch, how do they expect to fly if they can’t even run. I don’t care, I have more self-respect than stay somewhere my efforts are going to waste on belligerent children.

Edging the door slightly more open now I make no stand to beg them back, I’m not a pathetic sod needing validation from assholes who can’t even see that I’m trying to help. Walking with my head held high the gym echoes silent with only the thuds of my footfalls approaching the group. Rounding the group with a very much restrained unimpressed glare, whilst others shrivel up and die, Ushijima remains calm and collected as if he didn’t just say all of that.

Blunt and honest even if it mean’s hurting my feelings, now that’s not very attractive. Semi and Tendo shy away from my gaze, betas in the wolf pack are always unable to voice their opinion’s when they’re the weakest links. Push the strongest off the cliff in hopes that they remain, I’m guessing no one wants to throw me a lifeline here and bullshit their way out of this one.

No one offers their own opinion about this.

“Well, what do we have here, oh that’s right some ungrateful shits that can’t agree on their failures so they push out the only help that they’ve got. Ever heard of the saying ‘don’t bite the hand that feeds you.’” A small laugh escapes me and I’m unable to hide the audacity these fuckers have to say all that.

Yes, I’m extreme at times but I get results by being the hardest motherfucker these shits have seen and here they are shitting on me all because they don’t like the way I do things here. Now speaking without restraint I turn from the group to coach Washijo.

“You wanted to know what I think of them, they’re good, a strong team with strong individuals but as a cohesive working machine they falter and they will against progressive, evolving teams. And I’m astounded at their behaviour towards me after only having two practices with them, but the jury have spoken and whilst it was fun I know when I’m not wanted.” Ripping off my jersey jacket and handing it to coach I pivot on my heel instantly.

I gulp and stand high, higher than these fuckers can even imagine to ever think of reaching.

“I’m warning you all, without my help you can only dream about going to nationals.” I m make sure that my uninterested gaze glazes over every one of them.

Ushijima impassively watches, undeterred and a little glad to see me walk, oh he’ll rue the day he though so.

Chapter Text

Groaning once in pain from my organs twisting and somersaulting in anguish from the previous day before, how can they say such hurtful things and expect me to be fine with it. I hope they all rot in hell, while also being naked and whipped by that constant never ending sweltering heat of exhaustion damning them from victorious reprieve.

Cocooning myself in hundreds of blankets is one way to hide away from the world another when my dear beloved Himari found me earlier, who knew such a tiny human had so much rage funnelled up inside of her. I get why people say, ‘midgets are the deadliest creatures to ever lay upon this planet once mad,’ thankfully I’m on the right side of humanity to never have such a mini raging bull see red towards me.

Okay, I get it I’m not the most agreeable person to be around most of the time many of my old friends first found me weird from the get go but that was already from the culture shock. Some even tried to bully me, hah, they couldn’t even handle ‘your mum’ jokes when twelve year old me came along. Savage little year sevens still reign supreme as the most passive aggressive gremlins you’ll ever meet.

Of course, that shit doesn’t fly here but the boys really? You’d think someone from the girls team, if not bitchy Janet trying to up her score with me. But the boys saying all those things as if I’ve stabbed their dog, okay, I am extreme with my behaviour at times but that’s just me being slightly touched starved since forever. What can I do it’s been a good while since I’ve had a boyfriend and anyone for that matter to even hug me, so, of course my perverted behaviour rattles itself out of me from time to time.

We’re all a little bit kinky anyway, no use in hiding it. So, all I can do is suck it up like a big girl and enact my revenge on them.

Waking up late has always been a blessing and a curse, from the day a ball graced my fingertips was the day I said goodbye to oversleeping and the never-ending charm of being a night owl working and living by an early bird standard. That and I’m no longer shackled to the damn fool who thought that his team deserved me, respect works both ways, honey. Once they dig so deep up into their own arses and start acting like real men, then will I ever let the thought grace my mind to even think about getting back together with them.

Yawning and full body stretching, ignoring my horrendous bed head and relishing the sun peeking through the blinds and kissing my skin. Today’s a new day and whilst I have time to look like a goddamn movie star I tilt towards guilt tripping those fuckers and making it hurt where the sun doesn’t shine. If you can’t stand to look at me why bother in trying to console me, you fools I’m better off without the weight of you.

Sliding in just in time for self study, I make it obvious for the crowd to see and to give them – Yamagata and Ushijima – trash no mind, they don’t talk, they don’t act and they most certainly don’t gain any of my precious attention. He doesn’t deserve such a name like hot stuff and hottie, no more will I regard him as such, bitches deserve discipline. Sadly, they don’t even bat an eye at my late arrival nor some students like chuggers and co, whilst a few kinder girls come up to me asking if I’m okay. I guess deciding against wearing makeup today really has worked in my favour, it’s only the beginning.

There’s no time to feel hurt and alone now, that shit is done and whilst it does fester in my heart, I can’t wait for the turn-on of their desperate grovelling states to beg me back. Oh, I just know that my pussy will throb from it the most especially seeing the good old stoic captain feeling up my proposal. I hate how they were so quick to change sides after I’ve done so much for them, piling up a comprehensive file and staying up all night to make sure they all know where to improve upon. Ohira being the silent subtle type to allow this anarchy to go on, I thought he had something, a gift of sorts like me but he’s too stupid for that it appears.

Gnawing the inside of my cheek whilst withstanding the piercing bloody crescent moons in the palm of my hands just remembering their lies gets my blood boiling but I prevail with a shrug relinquishing that rage. As much as I like it, there’s nothing like watching them squeal like little piggies whilst I sit back and relax on my lawn chair with a porn-star martini by my side. I can’t hate them; I don’t hate them not when they’re my biggest entertainment side piece yet.

It’s sad how the prude gathers to spout their inconsequential bullshit whilst looking like some fine ass tasty treats that need nibbling on, but I guess for now I’ll have to drool over them from afar. To think Japan is the one thing stopping them from acting out, hiding their crimes, the assaults and for women to shy away and hide. Be modest, be quiet and be hidden into the background nothing but white noise, women should behave and I’m not sorry for standing against those values because at least I know who I am. Not what this country wants me to be and if that is a sin then so be it, I’m already a wicked sinner.

The day goes by rather quickly, in a flash I find myself sat between my two true friends, people that wholeheartedly welcomed me into their pack and it’s too late for them now, there is end of friendship subscription. I'm an all-inclusive package deal; Himari and Yui fully submerge themselves in the most cringiest bullshit romance film that we could find.

My phone rests in my hand the number of notifications I'm getting might as well rebrand this device as my new vibrator. Tendo doesn’t let up, even after rejecting his watered-down apology from earlier today at lunch, I could sense the strain between us like he had a bad feeling or something. I don’t care, he’s not my problem anymore and I'm not coming back from such a sorry excuse of, ‘the team wasn’t thinking right, please come back.’

Oh, honey, you were thinking right but right out of your mind to think I'm an idiot to walk back into the lion's den, not even the old geezer could waver my restraint, but he did tell something juicy. Despite this movie stabbing my eyeballs with bleach it’s not enough for me to turn back and watch him personally torture the boys for speaking out of turn. I always knew that old fool was a sadistic bastard at heart.

But coach might not even care for my absence, yet I have a strange inkling that whatever the boys are enduring right now might be alleviated if I do decide to show face, obviously that isn’t the case. But it doesn’t hurt letting this circus play on just a little longer now.

A few days have rummaged by like a scream hidden within the wind as the boy's rebellion against me start to show repercussions in their fatiguing bodies. I'm one hundred percent sure that I saw Shirabu rocking some finger tape around those bony digits of his, alongside him was Kawanishi rubbing the back of his neck as if he’s in pain. Sadly, I couldn’t see more due to the ever-changing of classes and the seconds years were gone in the click of my fingers.

I'm not exactly sad or guilty for this new upgrade in regression tactics coach has going on for them to really learn what it means to work hard but I can say I am loving the new and improved exhausted look. Damn, tiredness makes these boys look ten times more rugged than they did after a five-set game and that’s already getting my thighs clenching.

But what I have noticed is that the boys seem a little more flighty and fidgety around me and for good reason, I might trick them into handing over all their goods to me. Tendo is the spokesman for the group always sending out signals during class and even messaging me every hour of everyday to come back but surprisingly now Semi and Yamagata enter the ball game. Dark purplish bags rim their eyes as class proceeds into session but that still doesn’t stop the oh so mighty Ushijima from furiously blinking his sleepiness away.

I don’t care if he saw me, that shit was too adorable to pass up on not getting that on video. However, it was like he suspected me of murder for the entire day as it passed by, the boys really don’t know how to let up with the daggers in their eyes. When it came down to my final class before lunch it’s as if someone has strung me along and I'm only here in my astral form watching my lifeless body complete mundane tasks. I barely even make it to the finish line towards the cafeteria when my assailant decides to pop by for a lovely chinwag.

Seriously, Tendo needs a bell.

Reaching out to grab for my tray when suddenly two large slim hands come up and around my sides and hoist me off the floor, screeching to be put down. All other motor functions fail me as I drop the tray, clattering with an echoing thud and embarrassingly everyone turns to look at the condoling couple. Who in their right mind would do that to me? There's no point in asking if Tendo is even sane enough for that question, I'm going to slap this motherfucker so hard he’ll be saying hi in Madagascar.

Begrudgingly turning around to him he yelps out of fear for my ferocious fury, but I let it simmer back into calm waters, I got to remember I'm regarding him as nothing but wasteful use of oxygen. His eyes grin at me like he’s the Cheshire cat that I've been waiting for, sorry to break your bubble Dumbledore but I'm not about to have this chosen one energy thrown my way.

“Oya ~ little miss manager-chan is so sensitive, it gives me chills.” He adds by clasping his hands around his arms and rubbing them viciously.

His eyebrows wriggle in a suggestive way whilst mine scrunch up and glare at him in annoyance. Truly on the inside I’m squealing despite being in a sore spot with the guys I'll never turn down them voluntarily touching me, all with my hawk eye watch and consent of course.

“Hah! Manager my ass, what do you want now?” Scoffing at him with the highest degree of dirty looks I watch as he shrivels up and dies on the spot.

He definitely wasn’t expecting my dark side to pop out and punch him in the gut for the second time coming. Grabbing my tray from the floor, wiping off any dust that got onto it and presuming my spot back into the line as many students file out into the hall. 

“Down girl, and here I thought you were down bad for all of us.” He whines placing his hand over his heart as if I've wounded him so.

Rolling my eyes trying so desperately to ignore his existence further and wipe that disgusting smirk off my lips as if he’s trying not to make me laugh and give him a well-deserved reaction. Some of the students around us gasp as Tendo drops down to his hands and knees and begs.

“Please come back to us, pretty please with a cherry on top.” He wails loudly and most likely on purpose as some of his crew turn their heads overlooking the disastrous act he’s playing.

While he’s too busy playing the victim down in the dirt this grants me a great photo opportunity for some good old fashioned black mail, oh this will come in handy one day. He flinches when the camera shutter sounds and instantly he flashes his very best smile all in late arrival as I place my phone back into my breast pocket.

“I think I'm good but I'm sure one of your many fangirls will love to be judged and ostracised by you ‘oh so grateful boys’,” Pulling a baby face I watch as he shakes a frown off his face.

“I'd rather surround myself with likeminded sort of people and that will never include you if you think any of this is working.” gesturing to him and to them, I walk up to the canteen stand completely disregarding him any further.

If he wants to play, he’ll have to do better than that.

Tendo pov

Man, L/n-chan is one tough cookie to crack, I even got down onto my hands and knees and she still didn’t react other than take a sneaky photo of me. This sucks, the others don’t know the basics in grovelling to anyone, no one knows. Me and Semi-Semi roll up towards the changing room finding with no surprise that the others shiver with haunting whispers chilling our very souls.

How disgusting.

Since our betrayal, yes, we did do that to her, a very frighteningly one as the very earth beneath our feet the moment L/n-chan left us in that very gym cracked and swallowed us whole. The scalding chains are finally doing us in with the reckoning coach has been bestowing down upon us, is this some kind of sick joke being played upon us now?

Whatever it may be has got us all agitated for today’s practice, not even miracle boy Wakatoshi is looking as thrilled as he normally does, and that’s saying something. He lives and breathes volleyball, I even had to hide his favourite one that he sleeps with?! If by some slim miracle he’s remotely going to bring a girl back to his dorm there’s no way the mood is dying upon seeing that.

And they call me the immature one and I call myself the unknown hero that everybody needed.

It's next to near impossible now to get L/n-chan back on the team and with the looming time limit on all our shoulders we can only pray that tomorrow will come bearing gifts resembling a horny gremlin. Sighing deeply me and Semi-Semi both drop our duffle bags to the wooden benches, the others huff a sigh of uncontrolled irritation.

“Argh this is bullshit.” Shirabu smacks his shirt to the ground, everyone halts frozen in place.

Well, this isn’t good, if even our goody-two shoes of a setter are acting up then we’re truly royally fucked. I don’t miss the smug face Semi-Semi pulls towards the changing balance of power within the room, and they call me dark, that’s a whole other level of fucked up.

Subconsciously turning to our miracle boy of a captain to maybe diffuse the situation but he too is mindlessly stripping his dress shirt for his freshly cleaned black shirt. His back ripples with pure muscles, I guess that’s what he gets even when he trains in his spare time so of course I and everyone else turns to Yamagata. The undisclosed mom of the troop swoops in, Semi-semi and the others mind their own snoopy business.

“Shirabu, it’s going to be okay, we can all work through this tog-”

But poor old grumpy guts don’t even let Yamagata finish but rather grunts loud and harshly before nearly ripping his entire scalp from his skull. I sigh.

“Now what’s got you sighing, it better not be what’s got Shirabu acting up.” Reon-kun slides into his black shirt along with his own biceps filling the sleeve as if it was made for him.

Nearly ripping the hinges off my own locker door finding the contents filled with my favourite worn out Shounen jump; one of my firsts, and none other than my spare indoor asics trainers, I thought I lost those. A pause drawls out between us two and that gap quickly fills in by snappy Shirabu chewing out our scared little ace-to-be.

“It’s just L/n-chan, she shot me down yet again,” groaning this time as the near missing memory barrels itself back into the forefront of my mind.

“And now coach is hounding on us for being swine's arses for pushing her out and for good reason.” Running my fingers through my hair finding it brittle and dry from the slick of hair gel at my ends, great now I need to deep condition this tonight.

Unbuttoning my shirt ignoring the wasabi sauce smear across my bottom slacks and the cuff marks upon my loafers, so much to do and I'll be exhausted and beaten by coach again today. Reon-kun patiently awaits by my side whilst Semi-Semi begins to talk smack to Shirabu fanning the flames further.

“Everyone, this is a pressing time I know, but we need to do something, any ideas on getting her back?” Tearing out my own over thee lack of support from the team.

I guess L/n-san was right about one thing we are just a team out of convenience, its sad to realise that but now I clearly see our faults all from the spotlight she shined upon them. Gah, even thinking about it is giving me a headache, Reon-kin along with everyone else all peer over at the money man, the one person that lives and breathes fire. Yamagata scrunches up, his entire person bends over in deep, deep thought, after trying to console and prevent World War III between Shirabu and Goshiki.

“Well, she did joke about us sending her nudes if we did fail to improve.” He buckles back up faster than a spring, finishing his sales pitch as if it was the greatest idea known to man.

We all blanch at him, no idiot would actually go along with that-

Our eyes connect and the dirtiest grin trickles into creation, Reon-kun quickly connects the dots as does Semi-Semi disgusted by our clear act of immaturity. Okay, scratch that I am the immature one in the group but it doesn’t make me the only one thinking like a child.

“No, no Yamagata-kun, that is where you are wrong. She one hundred percent meant what she said.” Sinisterly grinning I can only wonder what my face looks like.

Hauntingly horrifying and for once I love it.

The others burst out into disgruntled noises whilst me and the other children plot the victims demise, our eyes lingering on a so called wonder boy of a captain. Wakatoshi-kun lingers by the bench tying up his indoor volleyball trainers.

“Well, who’s going to do it then?” Suddenly Goshiki fans the flames to the building embers.

Who knew we had an idea man within the team.

“Are you that stupid or is there any brain cells left in that head of yours.” Shirabu smacks the little ace upside of the head, knock down.

Two to one for Shirabu vs Goshiki even if the first year doesn’t particularly know that he’s in this battle. With the victim chosen and fortunately too disinterested in our lads conversation to say otherwise.

“Wakatoshi-kun,” the ace pauses from his duties, his slow but thoughtful look crosses the room, as he hums in replies.

“You can send her the nude after practice today?” Whilst the question lingers within the room, Reon-kun rubs at the bridge of his nose and shakes his head in disagreement.

Wakatoshi-kun regards us all as mere degenerate ants that are just wasting his mere moments of practice for this, his olive eyes scan over each of us. Is he aware of what we’ve asked or is he just shitting us all with this breaking of prolonged tension. He finally looks at me, pausing to answer, my god is he hesitating?

“Ushijima-san, you know you don’t have to go along with their whims.” Reon-kun tries to interfere in this madness, but there’s no stopping the captain.

He’s a stubborn man.

“Okay.”

The entire room silences into a pin drop, even the boys that weren’t part of the conversation stop in their tracks as the biggest game changed to all our hopes and dreams just agreed to our bullshit idea. No, no, I refrain from insulting one of the most ingenious ideas me and Yamagata have ever had together and to think we’re both failing science.

Getting up, Wakatoshi-kun walks out the door as if whatever just went down right now was not the biggest, the most silliest character development we’ve all seen from him since he started high school. I’m quite enjoying this new talkative and kinda silly Ushijima-kun, and to think it all started with a new slightly pervy manager-chan.

The cogs are now in placed and the wheel can’t be stopped now, the river must run it’s course if we’ve ever living to see tomorrow happen. Slinging my shirt on and running out the door, Reon-kun sighs next to me as the faint disgruntled shouts of our demon coach lecture Goshiki on his poor form.

“I can’t believe that just happened.” He says, I for one can’t but I’m sure as hell enjoying it nevertheless.

I can’t wait for tomorrow to come.

Reader POV

Today my phone sits oddly quiet within my pocket pouch of my oversized hoodie, the girls are out in their own club, to think both of my best friends are nerd that thoroughly enjoy chemistry. To be honest so do I but the last time I was allowed to be around fire was also the same time I had melted my pen and set my lab oat on fire all the whilst burning my hand to the scalding hot ceramic dish.

I was never allowed to practice upon the Bunsen burner after that unsupervised.

However, my phone now lies leaden and weighted without the constant thrumming of it vibrating every minute of every hour from the boys, after Tendo’s disastrous time in recruiting me back onto the team some others including Semi and Yamagata have even tried. Ohira spoke to me for the first time in our shared advanced English lecture for the college prep course, he had the audacity to beg me back in English. I faulted him on trying but surprised by his pronunciation by being top tier good, call me impressed.

At least if I talk smack to anyone in English now I know at least someone will understand and appreciate my many colourful use of vocabulary, I know sure will.

Ushijima of course hasn’t spoken a word to me not that I care or was I patiently waiting for him to come and apologise, I think I would have died on the spot and thanked him for talking to me. Then I remember what he said about me without any restraint and how whipped I am for him already and we haven’t even spoken a word to each other.

Dear, God why did you make this man so fine that just one flicker of his gaze makes me orgasm on the spot? Why be so cruel to me?

Sword art online rages on in the background, Kiritimati fighting the final boss in the epic swing of romance towards Asuna, my favourite endgame couple of the year. Taking my chocolate milkshake and precariously balancing it on my knee whilst at the same time my phone buzzes back to life.

Oh, who is it now?

My eyeballs bulge out of their sockets finding out the notification came from none other than Ushi-gushy himself, oh what does he want? To gloat about how better off he is without me, or better yet to tell me now I’m a waste of space. For fuck sake it won’t be him dripping with sweat and his naked body tapered with those fine rippling muscles perking for my enjoyment only.

Oh, how wrong and right I was.

Spurting/drowning in chocolate milk spilling down my front whilst suffocating my lungs, I gag like a fish out of water, peering down at the photo lighting up my very screen. I stand corrected it’s not just his pecs that stand perked and erected for only my eyes to see but… Eyes trailing down.

Oh. My. God. Please rip me in two and rearrange my organs as you please, stamp on me if you must.

Damn, daddy has a body worthy to be chiselled in marble and decorated in all my lingerie and panties, there’s no way I’m walking clothed around this sexy beast ever again. I can’t see much of his top half but who needs it when such a tanned ripped body glistens in water droplets and that erect monster glaring my way.

I can already feel the warmth spread down and tingling my thighs as I drip in my seat, not just from the chocolate milkshake coating every crevice that it could seep into. It’s decided, I think its time to stop messing with them now.

Chapter Text

Everyone knows that there’s twenty-four hours in a day yet I simply can’t find enough of those ticking seconds to scramble out of bed, wash myself, devour more than I can chew and still find time to look presentable. I might as well become one with the shaggy look at this point. I now stand just outside the two gym doors with anticipation gnawing on my lips, picking at my fingernails whilst the unrelenting trickle of the morning sun scorches my back. I don’t know why I'm so anxious this should be a walk in the park its the boys that should be rueing the day that they ruined mine but looking back on it now maybe I am too much of a culture shock for them. I’m enough to handle as it is, I mean look at them have they really had any other outside interactions other than the filtered crap that the Japanese government considers safe for their younger viewers. Well that’s bullshit since Japan handles their young, influential minds poorly considering their crime rates against women and outspoken people.   

Their actions can’t be blamed but their society can.  

To some certain degree, I admit I can be too much at times, but I simply will rot away and die if I can’t blurt out what I'm thinking. My maturity might have been stunted from having three older brothers and a caregiving sister, I grew up spoiled in my interracial household. My brothers are overbearing morons that’d rather scoff down the last pizza box than call me or Annabelle down and she was the pretty one, the amiable one that crossed bridges between us all. Getting my voice out and screaming to the top of my lungs sometimes was the only way to being heard and I guess that sort of pattern of thinking haunts me to this day. No one likes a loudmouth, an overachiever, someone who can speak their mind in an overly con-formative society.  

Well, I guess people can go fuck themselves sideways because I'm not changing for anyone but for myself.  

Gripping onto the handles a sudden shiver of tantalising richness pushes me forwards swinging the two doors open like the grand entrance that I deserve to have. Coach Washijo stands like an unmoving mountain his slow purposeful glare slides back onto me whilst much could be said about the scaredy cats hanging from the railings, each other and some even ready to throw some hands. Its laughable really but I withhold my sputters of joy for the smirking cat of wonderland I embrace the bio-field of sweaty teenage boys and a senile old man as mine.  

They may be a bunch of bastards, but they are my bastards.  

“I’m back bitches, did ya miss me!” Throwing my arms out wide, chest puffed out and a sardonic grin finally claiming my place back on the team.  

Instantaneously a unanimous sigh parades through the gymnasium, they look back up with as much enthusiasm if they have just won nationals and to my surprise even the great Ushijima seems somewhat pleased of my return. In his own little expressionless way do I see the beginnings of a curling lip, coach on the other hand stalks over. A none too pleased glare spikes holes through my skull, flinching from his beckoning hand only to shiver from his condescending head pat. His wrinkled smile mimics my youthful before a crawling shiver douses down my spine as I only have mere moments to process a launching slender man rugby tackling me into a hug.  

Tendou is ultimately pleased with his arms cradling around my torso that my feet dangle around in the air as we spin countless times enough so that I begin to hallucinate stars. Dropping back down with a thud he and the rest of the sorry lot break their backs in a full body prostration of a nighty-degree bow shouting from the tops of their lungs.  

“We’re very sorry. Please forgive us!”  

I would much rather prefer them kissing the floor, but no one can be a winner these days, choking with laughter as I hulk smack their spines into a bone crushing hug. Ushijima receives special treatment seeing how he was the ringleader of assholes with starting this whole shebang, luckily for me he was the one to finish it. He’s a man of his word, he finishes what he started and it makes a my grateful pussy throb. My arms have been aching for hours since he sent me that full body nude of him and yet having his body flush against mine just gets me going again.  

“Oh, you guys, I already forgave you assholes the moment your sweet captain here sent me an oh so special gift.” Giggling I don’t miss for a beat the sideway glances all stopping on one tall green giant.  

Their faces tell me everything that I need to know, what was going on behind the scenes, how desperate they were and at the very least someone here had the fucking balls to man-the-fuck-up. But I'm not fussed either way, that boy certainly has curves that’s for sure. Swaying upon the unmovable man my hands growing itchy to go lower and grab, but I restrain myself from the temptation. Soon releasing him after getting a full body douse of his cologne or more like his natural vanilla-woody smell that I could bottle up.  

Making a start towards the ball cart the rest of the boys stay behind perplexed behind my reasonings, they’ll know in due time.  

“Now then ladies, line up.” Still standing around Coach as if he has the fucking magical answer about all this yet all he does is take a seat clearly enjoying the show.  

The galloping of their squeaky trainers smearing across the woody planes is astounding when they value their lives just as much to the expend of their Coach taking a seat. I'm more than just a manager, he knows it, the team knows it and if they want nationals then they’re going to have to learn to fucking bend and push out their arses for a beating.  

“Chop, chop.” Clapping my hands, they quickly round up their sorry but very plump arses over here.  

Squeaking to a stop, a ball in hand the rough texture bounces in and out of my palm, walking up from head to toe down the line reading their worried and perplexed faces. They're morons to think I'm easily won over by a bunch of apologies, stalking texts and... and a nude sent by the most unapologetic person that I have ever come across. No, this is payback.  

“I’m going to say this once just for all of you to understand. I’m not happy about the shit-talking nor have I truly forgiven you for it, you all have one of two options: option number one you bend over and get the greatest ass whooping of the century or you receive one of my serves. Choose wisely.”  

That sure puts the boys in a rut, neither wanting a spank mark branding their cheek but their faces implode with cockiness written all over them as if my attitude doesn’t disclose my threat. To them i’m just a second-grade high school girl that just happens to know a few things about volleyball. Fucking imbeciles, boys never change it doesn’t matter what font you put them in they still think that they’re the superior gender in everything. Sports, games, cars, racing, you name it they think that they’re the motherfucking Gods. Well, it’s time for someone to put a leash on them and rein them the fuck in.  

“Ladies?” Tendou scoffs with a shy of a laughter, the others I.e., Ohira and Yamagata smirk looking away like a bunch of Chad wannabes.  

Pausing as their gaze's flicker between me, the ball and then to Tendou.  

“Well as you all would rather gossip like a bunch of bitches in heat than get down and dirty and be a ‘ real man ’ I see you all nothing more than conniving sons with a silver spoon shoved so far down your throats that I can see my own reflection on the other side.” the team stiffens shutting the hell up.  

They need to be spoon fed everything no wonder Coach Washijo finally stepped up and asked for help and rightfully so someone needs putting them in their places. The world doesn’t care for their shit but the moment that they think that they’re better than anyone who is less fortunate than themselves will find out the wrath that I have.  

Making them wait just as they made me, I make a start over towards the benches to shed myself of the managerial tracksuit and into my sports bra and spandex. Still the boys look away whilst some being Ushijima, Yamagata and the fucking stick up his arse Shirabu neither blinks nor bats an eye. Rather the others look away to only peek back in like it’s the very first time they’ve seen the female body. I'm not even naked and yet they’re behaving like I've just cummed all over their faces. Tying my hair up into a high ponytail hoping that the tail won’t flick into my face when I serve.  

Bitch please I’m going to sit on their faces when they start acting like sportsman.  

Ushijima pulls up before me as the others move away into a line off the court hyping their captain up as he barely gathers himself into a receiving position. His upper body is bent over his feet whilst his knees square beneath his shoulders, the orientation of his arms hangs loosely by his side. If this man could mock me this would be the very stance that he’d pull. Their cheering quietens to a low murmur as I pull myself around the net finally doing something about this bitch.   

If I must beat respect into them then so be it.   

Taking a few steps back knowing exactly where I want the ball to go as I glaze over his squatting form oh, he’s going to regret performing like he’s about to square off against a toddler. Swinging my right arm, the ball shoots up before me and I begin my three steps, one to start the momentum, two to push enough power for the third and final step of lifting off the ground. The crowd awes basing on the side-lines, Ushijima’s position tightens after not recognising from the swing of my arm and the position of my palm. It connects and with the flick of my wrist at the very last second the ball propels itself like a cannon ball. Ushijima leans far too forward and pays the price of his negligence as the shuddering ball rolls rebounding up and off his left shoulder landing just behind him.  

He stoically remains standing, that’s something.  

“Nice receive cap, maybe we might be seeing eye to eye. You can begin practice now or join the crowd.” Gesturing to said crowd now gulping and praying for their mothers.  

They're simply dead men walking.  

But his frown worsens nodding to my comment as he heads over heads to the benches dodging his wryly crew to chug down the remainder of his water bottle. How I wish to be that bottle right about now, what a selfish little slut it is. Heading to get the next ball the team pushes and pushes until they birth Tendou out with a disgruntled manic cry begging for mercy knowing that he annoyed me the worst this past week. Learning from his captains mistakes he goes low probably too low for one of my receives but seeing how the guy is over six foot tall and hunches over as he walks he might have to compensate. Seeing my serve and knowing how his captain handled it Tendou amps himself by outlying his arms and bracing for the grunt of my attack. Just as I think that I’ve got him his arms slide beneath the ball and rebounds crookedly, it's as if he based his entire movements on guessing my movements alone.   

It’s a terrifying feat to achieve.  

“You’ve redeemed yourself Tendou , just no more obsessive texts, eh.” Smiling quickly at him before switching back into the sadistic bitch that I’ve become for now.  

It wasn’t long before everyone had red raw arms or faces turning black and blue as they tried to control the ball’s momentum and fail at sending it back with their arms or their faces. Whilst others saunter off with their egos bruised others fuck reflecting on their poor forms and continue like unmoving mountains to back to their techniques. Which I can only say is debatable seeing how well Goshiki keeps smacking his face into the ball whenever he spikes one of Shirabu’s sets or if I squint it might be on purpose seeing how the ball is low and the flow is awkward.  

Semi-semi lingers by the court lines fidgeting with a ball in his hands and well looking rather anxious with the stress expelling from him is more than palatable that I could vomit from watching him pace any longer.  

“Hey, Semi are you okay?” He flinches dropping the ball rather looking like a freaked out lamb, we both watch it rolls away towards me.   

“Uh, eh, yeah, heh, why?” He chokes sideways glancing away from me.  

Raising a suspicious brow to his already increasing suspicious behaviour I draw closer to him only for his twitching to increase the closer my eyes rake over his form.  

“I don’t know you just seem a bit... off. What’s up? Do you need help with your serves?” He flinches again but this time finally giving in and answering me with a curt nod.  

This is the part where I would slap his ass for overthinking things and worrying about something just as small as perfecting a serve yet I find myself hesitating. I don’t want to be that girl that drives a rift within the team and not learn to change my most problematic behaviours. I won’t change myself so drastically that I become a different person entirely but enough so that Semi here can relieve some of his stresses without flinching at all my physical contact with him.  

Watching from the side-lines as he prepares himself for a serve; his back foot lands facing his forward position whilst his leg bends awkwardly. I want to shake my head and correct it, but I remain silent as I continue to observe the disaster before me throw the ball up only for the ball to skim his fingers and land just before him. From what I know so far both on and off the court, Semi, is a flashy personality, he likes music, odd styles and yet his serves aren’t oozing with his spark. Stepping forth before he can make more of an embarrassment of himself my waving palm at his stricken form tell me more than I need to know.  

He needs some serious help.  

“Alright, I see your problem.” Snatching the ball between his palms the bubbled surface finds home upon my skin.   

“Not going to lie but you are pretty shit. You're lacking that... umph. No worries, I think jump serves would definitely work well for your... flashy style. Seeing how you’re flashy as fuck.” Wincing from my own words trying not to butcher this man's fragile ego more than I can, I hand the ball back to him.  

I repeat the same iconic serve that I had given them just half an hour ago but as I hand the ball back to him, I can already see how this is going to go from his pinched brows and stiff fingers puncturing the ball’s surface. It takes around the fourth time for me to get in there and do something about it, gesturing him with my eyes and asking with my hands. First, I manipulate his back as his posture is far too backwards to help start his running up towards the jump serve. I'm sort of surprised that he hasn’t asked Ushijima for any tips or Goshiki for that matter but I’m guessing it has something to do with his delicate pride.  

He yearns to be seen within a storm full of stars.  

My palms correct him by pushing him slightly forward while his head glares deeply into the domed metal ceiling exactly where the blue and yellow ball will be but upon handling him his body tenses. Is he shitting himself? Or… my gaze trails down to the dent in between his legs, the growing creases in his shorts grow taut in fear of ripping from how fiercely they grip his thighs.   

They aren’t as girthy as Ushijima’s.  

“Oi, virgin stop stiffening up like you’ve got a boner, I'm trying to fix your shitty posture.” He squawks an embarrassed cry quickly detangling himself from me as if I’ve just branded him with a hot rod.  

Others glance over to see if the boner is real and from the looks of things it sure lives up to its name however the nebby-noses resume practice with their interest lost Semi recomposes himself. Or tries to recover from his little freak out moment. Alas, he nods returning to his prior position continuing to flinch with each pass of my hands over his body as if they’ve become his worst nightmare. I doubt that he’s absorbing anything that I'm trying to show him by manhandling him into a proper form since he’s too concerned about blowing a load in his boxers.  

Removing my hands, the red-hot rods turn to ice as he flinches again as his chattering lips open for a plea, but I wave him off to shut the fuck up and to stop him from wasting my time any further.  

“You need to sort yourself out, I'm not going to help until I get some actual vocalisation from you other than your whimpering, I'm not a bloody mind reader how am I supposed to help if you don’t tell me anything. Secondly, and this isn’t as important as the first, but a tiny bit will go a long way with figuring yourself out... by getting laid.” His cheeks dust over quickly in either embarrassment or acknowledgement of his messy identity, you can’t tell.  

“As your manager I'm not just going to be helping out with keeping schedules, cleaning up and washing bibs, I'm also going to be helping with your form, your timing and your strategies.” giving him a levelled look to say ‘ calm the fuck down, I'm not trying to fuck you, I'm just trying to do my job ’ but I beg to differ if that got translated well.  

He curtly nods more so to himself than to me as he tries shaking off whatever's playing him whilst giving me a sympathetic smile that I have no idea the meaning behind. Whilst Semi is spiralling out of control I pivot to see what the others are up to; heading over to the bench to see if the water bottles need refilling.  

That's when I see it from my new procured advantage point. Tendou, Goshiki, Ohira are blocking Ushijima from yet another powerful spike alongside Shirabu and Yamagata’s offensive but somethings off. Ushijima’s form looks different, his swing is less powerful, his brows are bunched up twinging together, and his flexed jaw tells me that he’s done something that he shouldn’t have. A heavy-set frown displaces my natural smile as I further watch the utter garbage of a spike just make it past the three-man block.   

Fuck me he’s still as powerful to break through a three-man block with an injury. Fuck, I think I'm wet from my spiralling thoughts eating away at the possibilities a man of his calibre could do to me. Leaning onto the bench as I fear I might topple over from my locked thighs pressing heavily together as the insidious lust grapples at my hearth. Rather I could eat a man that unwavering to his duty as I imagine him between my thighs eating me with such vigour and unwavering fervour like he does to volleyball.  

Quickly shooting the coach a side glance as he too watches Ushijima grow weaker by each spike he makes; I should do something before the coach intervenes and slaps him.  

Clapping the resounding room stills and all eyes land onto me even the fuming coach seethes within his anger towards his captain’s mistake in not properly caring for himself.  

“Time out, Ushijima come here.” Demanding his attention is the only way to get to the bottom of his pain.  

Biting my lip fiercely as I almost add ‘ good boy ’ at the end of that sentence as I watch him head over, my bad habits are becoming harder to control yet I doubt Ushijima would care. He already ignores me as it is, I’m more surprised that he’s coming over like a good little boy. Yikes, if he ever heard me call him ‘ little ’ I just hope that when that day comes it's on a bed with my legs spread open and his ferocious glare pointing between them.   

And I'm wet again.  

Ushijima falters as he shrugs his left shoulder into a rounded motion as if it’s not the head of the shoulder but the pectoralis major muscle causing him the primary discomfort. My eyes narrow scrutinising his enlarging form as he closes the distance between us; the others gather around the corners panting. Raising a sceptical brow at his always passive glare branded onto his chiselled features, if only he could crack an emotion other than ‘ caveman ’ he’d look breath-taking.  

“You aren’t hiding anything from me, now, are you?” Standing closer just a fine hairs width between your chests.  

“Because if you are I won’t hesitate to release to the world what you sent to me last night.” Uttering between his hard gaze and my own as I step out of the enclosed space.  

Of course, I’m calling at my own bluff as I wouldn’t dream of releasing that dirty little picture out for the world to see. This time I am truly kidding when I mean by ‘ little ’ as there was nothing little about him. Taking out the med kit from the bench that I had already trifled through to find the ice pack and some ointment as well gauze just in case the idiot has done something serious to his shoulder, his spiking arm.  

I wave to the bench, and he reluctantly sits joining me by my right side.  

“Now where does it hurt?” His twitchy gaze rolls back to the ever-empty court as it continues to seem that his need to play is as ever present as the need to ignore me.  

It's not like I'm trying to help nor actually get him back onto the court but hey-ho you can sit hit simmering with a swollen shoulder for all I care where it's clear to me that powering through the pain must be his motto. Heaven forbids, he tells me that he’s hurting or gives anything away other than his typical frowny expression. When he doesn’t respond and blatantly ignore me yet again, I do the only other thing possible; I jump him as I won’t be taking liability when he becomes pissy with me aiding him.  

Luckily for me he takes silence like a virtue.  

Gently palpating around the sore swollen area feeling around the hard clavicle ridges above his pectorals, my flicking gaze lands to his face for any clear signs of pain. I don’t know what I was expecting to be honest at least something along the lines of a hiss of his breath or the unsteady rise and falls of his chest... but nothing. It’s as though the pain of a swollen shoulder is below him and his mighty bigot ways to succumb to acts of whimpering in defeat. Of course, the great Ushijima Wakatoshi doesn’t moan, or whimper let alone hiss through his teeth.  

I can’t help the smile crossing my lips as I can think of numerous ways to get him to his knees moaning... in pleasure. But I keep my gob shut lest we have another redo of a week ago befalling down onto my very feet. My fingers reach around the area where the swelling is just beginning this is where my touch is crucial to find the true source of the problem, but I have an inkling where he got it from. I might have been a little too harsh in performing my jump serves for them to receive when I had made it clear beforehand that my serves are not to be messed with especially when I’m pissed.  

His knees knock and that’s when I notice his dug in nails brandishing his tanned skin with crescent moons, the veins upon his hands are raised like a rash. So, he is human after all and just like the devil he hisses when I lightly massage into a sore spot of his pectoralis muscle and grunts when I begin to motion his left arm in a circular motion. Every time the arm is taut and pulled high above his head he hisses and when the arm is swung down, he grunts as his left side grows tense.  

The area wouldn’t have become so inflamed if he wasn’t a moron for using it to spike with but then again, this idiot would rather walk on glass than admit weakness. It’s a sign of zero self-awareness of one’s ability during injury and when to call it quits, it’s becoming apparent to me that Ushijima is lacking more in the common-sense department as well. He's becoming very annoying to deal with and handle, but I can’t stay mad at that face, well really his body.  

I guess I'll just have to suck up to his personality like I do mine half the time I'm around any of these boys.  

“You’re such a fucking idiot, if I didn’t see this you could have said goodbye to your volleyball career as you could have given yourself long term damage.” Clicking my tongue somewhat disappointed in him and somewhat exaggerating the part where it could end his career.  

I must take the extremes in scenarios where numpties like him can get it through their thick heads that asking for help isn’t the end of the world. Grabbing onto his left forearm again while taking out the ice pack and towel to wrap it up so it’s easier to handle for the both of us, doing this makes the gap between us lessen even more. The faint smell of his vanilla body wash mingles in with the sandalwood musk of the court that lingers in with his natural body odour to which doesn’t smell half as bad as I was expecting. My nostrils flare and I inhale as much of him as I can possibly take in for one breath, I'm a whore for a beautifully smelling man.  

I don’t discourage the behaviour even when his eyes drill holes into my side profile the longer I press the towel bag of ice into his shoulder. Noticing the tension lessens between us especially his fingers digging like vices of iron into his knees as they slacken, and a heavy sigh draws out.  

“I’m sorry.” Looking up into those olive eyes that shadow beneath his bangs, I can’t help but return a smile.  

I really didn’t expect him to apologise it’s also very uncharacteristic of him.  

Sitting here with him now somewhat holding him hostage that I have nothing more to say to him and yet I know the moment I take this ice off him he’ll run back to the court. Well, he’ll walk but I know he’s running inside because I'm the evil stepmother hindering his growth from achieving new heights, that’s surely how he sees me. If not, I'm most definitely not held in high regards in his book but at least he will always be my number one.  

After what feels like an eternity of silence, the gentle giant continues where he left off.  

“Thank you, L/n-san. I know sometimes I can be course with how I speak, and my actions can often appear that I'm not interested.” He speaks eloquently addressing further himself. “But I am grateful to your assistance.” My smile fades as my eyes bulge and lips open several times trying to comprehend this development.  

WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING?! Is this the same Ushijima that blatantly called me a nuisance and I was unwanted help to this team, that Ushijima just apologised and complimented me in the same sentence. I, I think I'm having an aneurysm, this can’t be real, yet he looks at me as if I'm the fool. I look around to see if anyone else has overheard that but no one looks frazzled or if the world has just ended rather I'm the only one who heard it, just me.  

What's more damning is my heart, he doesn’t lie nor coat his words in sugar like everyone else, he truly means that, where praise is due he gives it. It's not an aneurysm it’s a heart attack with how fiercely my heart is beating and numbing all sound into white noise around me as I just stare at the beauty of this man.  

Fuck me Ushijima Wakatoshi, I'm going to be the mother of our children, the beauty to his beast.  

All I can offer in return is a shrug and a passive acknowledgement to his own compliment that the heat in my cheeks surely speaks louder than my rude response or lack of thereof. As my arm grows tired, I change positions to straddle the bench now my front faces his left side and I notice that the others return to practice finishing up the other half of morning practise. His eyes gleam in anticipation and I can hear his steadying breath pick up a pace as his eyes dart to the ball, the net and his teammates.   

Oh, how left out he must feel.  

Tough luck baby cakes you’re stuck with me for another fifteen minutes.  

“So, sexy.” Grinning from ear to ear unable to help myself by whispering it aloud.   

Ushijima just arches a brow whilst his menacing frowny face neutralises into something else that I can’t put a finger on as his eagerness to return to the court tenth folds over. Sparkles dancing before his eyes as I remove the ice pack testing the shoulder before applying some adverse pressure to the affected area. He shifts in his position, but I doubt from the uncomfortable pressure as his thighs widen and his hips wiggle. A bucking horse in a pen drugged up on adrenaline as all he sees is the net line and the ball but here, I am cooling down his predator intensity.  

“Hey, you better take it easy on yourself this shoulder isn’t completely healed, after this head straight to the nurse and get it wrapped unless you want me to do it. But if you break something so God help me, I'll beat the shit out of you where the sun doesn’t shine.” Placing the pack down behind him his teetering gaze shifts from myself to the court and then to his shoulder with a slow curt nod.  

Oh, fuck I hope he’s not slow.  

I watch as Ushijima flexes his left shoulder before shaking it off as if he hasn’t just bruised a muscle especially one so important for spiking, I'll admit it’s somewhat my fault for the ball rebounding onto him. But I'm serious about my threat and I know he knows that too or I think he does, God these boys might be volleyball obsessed but I think some are lacking a brain between their eyes. But just as Ushijima joins them practise ends and I can finally see him eat something at least coach Washijo isn’t a complete sadist in denying his team a little reprieve from his sadistic torture.  

Rummaging through my bag to find my snacks I notice a hand waving me over by the very end of the gym closest to the back door lie most of the team sitting around in a circle. Are these boys twelve? Are we going to play, ‘ duck, duck, goose ’? Heading over I notice most of them now slurp smoothie or yogurt packs whilst Ushijima munches on an apple.  

I don’t know what’s sexier Ushijima eating an apple or the man sitting with one knee up and the other knotted underneath with his left elbow balancing atop. At least he’s keeping it elevated but he’s still yet to have it wrapped, quickly narrowing my gaze at him before taking the spot Tendou has so kindly offered me. I regret smiling at him in return as his eyes only grow wide when that sinister grin returns.  

“Damn, Y/n-chan you can actually behave like a girl.” Tendou coughs between breaths as he and many others choke on their food.  

Ushijima looks almost uninterested and Shirabu disregards the conversation with an eye roll the others including Semi fail at hiding their grins. Rolling my own eyes and sucking upon my teeth I gaze back at the sneaky fucker.   

“Can’t you see, or do you need to go to Specsavers to get them checked out?” Grabbing a hold of my own breast unafraid of others to stare directly at them. “I not only have tits but more balls than you.”   

Before any of them could retort however I take his long slender hand and place it atop my breast as he shivers from the realisation, the entire circle goes quiet. A pin could be dropped, and it would echo. I watch as Tendou turns fifty shades darker in deep gushing red flustering up to his ears and down to the bottom of his neck as his nose bleeds. Pushing him off I lean in and punch in the ribs where I'm sure most of the air vacates his lungs.  

“It’s on sight if any of you joke about that again.” l laugh threateningly.  

The only one that doesn’t still in fear is the motherfucker that continues to munch on his apple cork our gaze's lock. A question hanging in the air before he returns to eating the entirety of the cork, the stork and the pip. He's utterly insane.  

“Now then shouldn’t we be getting back to practice, Semi have you got that boner under control.” Clapping my hands, I don’t miss for a beat as he looks away embarrassed, well isn’t karma a bitch for laughing at me.  

The others joke and nudge him like all high school Chads do thinking that they’re the shit, teasing their friends and being bros again. I'm so glad that I'm not in America anymore. Making my way to the benches putting my rubbish in my bag and chugging some water before I head right back out there into the wilds. I was right about one thing; Semi’s eighth grade boner was under control as he allowed me to manhandle him into a proper form for his jump serve and this time it worked. There are a few tweaks needed but he’s getting there.  

For the rest of the day, I finish helping Semi out with his serves, show Shirabu some techniques to maintaining a poker face during the heat of the moment but I doubt he’s taking anything on board. Continuing note-taking, washing bibs, cleaning balls not the kind that I would like to nibble on and finally coach let’s us free for the day. The old fool was more than pleased with today’s practise that he let me in on about tomorrow; I make sure that Ushijima went back to the changing rooms so that he didn’t cause further damage to his injury.   

Sunday arrives with clear skies and humidity high as fuck as I feel trickles of sweat making themselves home between my shoulder blades and my ass crack. Fuck my life. The team whilst reluctantly leaves the gym behind for their one-mile marathon run that coach has allowed me to host since he’s spending the early morning with his wife. Which I'm surprised that anyone would condemn themselves into marrying that sadist then again he may be one of those kinds that hate everyone except one person, their person.   

Isn't that the dream.  

Pulling up to the front balancing the bike between my legs with one foot on the ground, I instantly notice a layered bump across Ushijima’s chest and shoulder.  

“How’s the shoulder?” Jutting my head in the direction his gaze remains on me.  

“Better, thank you again for yesterday.” He deadpans but this time Ohira and Yamagata overhear making this short little chat ever the more exciting as they both exchange a look.  

That’s right bitches, Ushijima Wakatoshi has just complimented me twice. Fuck, I can now die happy. My smile however fades upon noticing Tendou and Goshiki battling it out with their invisible light sabres in the back.  

“Don’t think I've forgotten about yesterday.” Tendou flinches his neck creaking on its hinges as he turns to acknowledge my existence.  

Getting geared up I turn to the rest of them seemingly raring to go not Ushijima of course the bastard is taking this run in his stride, I'm not even going to be surprised to find him back here first. So, I might as well add a little bit of spice to this run.  

“If you all manage to complete the marathon under one hour then I'll buy you all ice creams.” this perks up their attention until Goshiki whines pointing at my bike.  

“That’s no fare.” Shirabu nods not that anyone is looking at him right now as majority of the attention resides with me but I see and he turns pink with shock.  

“Life’s a bitch isn’t it.” Sarcastically pouting as I resemble his whiney face.   

Looking over my shoulder as the hair upon my nape rises and shrills of adrenaline whoosh past me, it feels like standing between stampeding bulls and a waving red flag. I might have my panties in a twist from the thought of finally being railed into oblivion.  

“Alright, you ready get steady…. bananas!” I can’t help bursting through the seams with laughter as they all jolt to a stop and glaring at me as if I'm the wicked witch of the west.   

“GO!” And then they were off, I keep back behind the unsurprising stragglers of Tendou and Shirabu as I just see the fringe of a bowl cut out dot panting behind Ushijima.   

These two however don’t seem to fare well doing long distant running.  

Soon leaving the snails behind knowing that they’re going to take the whole damn day to return and as I head back to school finding most of the team members collapsed outside the gymnasium gasping for air. Looking to the ground I find Ushijima perfectly alright and chugs his drink with a slither of sweat dripping down his temple, is he Robocop? How is he even human.   

Clapping my hands, they all fall silent.  

“Alright tell me what you want.” They’re all so shattered that inaudible murmurs and broken speech is spoken back.  

I turn to Ushijima begging him with my eyes to come along and without much kneeling on the ground he caves. He seems severely unfazed by the marathon, and it makes me wonder just how much of a gym guy he is. He must run every day and at least for a couple of miles at that. I just look at him in awe as we pass the stranglers of the team who are wheezing by the gates.   

Stopping I turn to arch a disappointed brow to them both not that Shirabu has the energy to fight one back.   

“And what time do you call this? I know what I’ll be writing about in my notes, your shite stamina needs improvements.” Smacking both Shirabu and Tendou’s heads as me and Ushijima both continue.  

I don’t miss for a second how they look at us leering over their shoulders shooting daggers into my skull, it’s not like I'm going to corrupt the poor soul... that badly. We finally make it to Seven-Eleven and we - I – very much bask in the cold air conditioning.   

Standing before the ice cream aisle I watch as Ushijima picks out a vanilla ice cream and I can’t help the chuckle that escapes me, his olive gaze flits over his shoulder as he looks at me strangely.  

“It’s just funny how a guy like you immediately chooses vanilla ice cream. It makes me wonder if you’re a vanilla type of guy.” I shrug with a wink but of course he doesn’t get it.  

My sweet innocent giant sternly holds up the ice cream between us cocking his head as he turns the cone around between his large fingers. I didn’t know I could hold a secret vendetta against an ice cream cone until now, how I wish to be that cone.  

“How can I be vanilla when I’m human.” I want to facepalm myself.  

“Oh, my god Ushijima don’t you ever want to live a little and maybe choose this.” swapping out his basic bitch ice cream for a strawberry cheesecake flavoured one; putting three in the basket one for him the rest for myself.  

They're my favourite.  

He looks at me then to the ice cream then to me before shrugging off whatever he’s feeling to merely northing. We choose randomly for the others from our lucky dip of the straw on what we assume everyone will like it’s up to them to divvy out the winnings.   

We spend the next three seconds in comfortable silence before halting from a strangled holler just a few feet away from the store, two extremely good-looking boys square off between Ushijima as some untouched rivalry seemingly becomes apparent rather one-sidedly. I notice one leans more on the shorter side however his very muscular build and natural glare tells me all I need to know about the second, much prettier one. He's tall with wind swept wavy hair curtaining above his brows his smile is welcoming but his vibe says otherwise completely dislodging his kind intentions.   

Whatever it is I don’t like it as the player vibe trumps his friendly personality. I wouldn’t know if they come from Shiratorizawa or elsewhere since I've barely been here a month.  

“USHIWAKA!” They both loudly exclaim, their faces growing tense.  

Muscles grow taut and fists bundle up at their sides, Ushijima fully turns to them now curtly nodding to them as if he’s well accustomed to this sort of outlandish behaviour. However, I spot his own jaw bunched and grounded, he must really hate that name seeing how it funnily incorporates his first and last name. Damn why didn’t I think of something like that.   

Immediately I become invisible between the three of them.  

“Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime,” Ushijima pauses.   

“We’ll be seeing you at the inter-high prelims. There’s still time to change to Shiratorizawa until then unless you still want to draw out the inevitable conclusion.” I don’t need to ask what that means when the answers display so cleanly on the strangers harden faces.  

The much prettier one groans threading his fingers through his hair whining on about asking him the same exact thing each time they meet. But Ushijima continues.  

“You’ll learn that only the strong and the ones that show their greater strengths will be moving onto nationals.” Unexpectedly he looks down to me hidden away behind his tall figure to the two of them to spot me.  

“Huh, what was that? It’ll be Aoba Johsai that will be going to nationals you robotic volleyball idiot.” The prettier one spits; a frown permeates my smile.  

Pulling out from the shadows I use the weight of the carrier bag as a hinge to balance out most of my weight when I roundhouse kick the motherfucker in his sorry arse watching with great delight as he falls to the ground.   

“Hah, what was that pretty boy, you got to make your way to the top before you start challenging my team.” I snarl, spitting out the backhanded compliment as I take Ushijima’s hand in mine.  

“Let’s go Ushijima, our ice creams are going to melt if we waste any more time on these losers.” Before pretty boy could even retort back to me, both me and Ushijima are half way down the street.  

Ushijima doesn’t share with me about his bouts with those complete idiots, so I don’t say anything related to my sudden act of violence, I don’t bring up anything about our strange meet up with bob the builder and playboy mansion to him or the rest of the team. It's a secret just for us.  

Chapter Text

A week has passed and I'm still here, that is a cause for some celebrations don’t you think? It was a rocky path getting to this point, but the boys didn’t exactly make it easy for me, casting me out to the coach, getting me to leave, becoming one of the clingiest shits that I've ever had to deal with.  

But I took it all in my stride even if that meant adding salt to the wound that is my life and accepting the fact that the boys might be assholes but so am I. I've not been the greatest person to them, quite frankly I should be sent off to the loony bin for how I've acted, I know I'm weird but not that weird. Maybe it’s the move, leaving everything that I've ever known back home – or well I used to live - and trying to settle into a place where it’s not welcoming my crazy.  

I say that I shouldn’t stoop to their level but where else is there to go when I'm already at rock bottom and hell is far beyond my saviour but the only way back up is to suck it up for both parties. Japan has made me coo-coo-crazy, and I need to stop before I start inflicting anymore unnecessary pain. But that doesn’t mean some of the boys can’t learn to respect me like I'm actual player and not a dummy mouthing off at them.  

I suspect that none of them got told that having a god complex isn’t an attractive trait. Lucky for them I'm here and they will have to kill me to stop being a Debby-downer.  

With that being said, Ushijima proved to be the biggest asshole of them all after not only orchestrating a gangbang and ostracising me from the group he then does the one thing to promise my return. Who the fuck sends a hot, sweaty, fucking sexy spank bank worthy nude photo without any context other than ‘ practice is at six ’. Like whom the fuck does he think he is pinning me down to the bone and fucking me sideways in my dreams. He's getting me all hot and bothered and it’s barely been twenty-four hours since he left me on read.  

He's such an asshole because of it and I’m so delusional that the moment I heard the signal I came running back into their open arms like a crazy ex-girlfriend deluding herself that he won’t cheat again. But they won’t. Call me big-headed or whatever I know the boys more than likely fear me than wanting to step on my toes again.  

My bite is bigger than my bark.   

Of course, it wasn’t just the dirty little nude that he sent me that got me kicking out of bed faster than a rooster can cluck in the waking hours of the morning. The team is a dumpster filled with wank stains and little shits that can’t stay away after being told no multiple times, their actions and behaviour might be more problematic than my own. But after all their grovelling and manipulative gifts they sure do know how to wear down an opponent's resolve even if my declining presence might have only been a small vacation and less of a walking out.  

I'm not a quitter just merely a procrastinator.  

This generation however is fucked with a bunch of monsters that I salute to the next one, Gods speed to the coaches and mentors you’re going to be needing it.  

Coach from back home has already tried to contact and re-schedule me in about the girls practice routines and to at least stay in somewhat good enough form before returning for the upcoming season. I can’t be falling behind when I'm one of their only opposite hitters, but alas like everything else in this world everybody is replaceable, and I think Chantelle has that covered… for now.  

She's ambitious but I'm the one they will be needing for the championship.  

Finally closing and locking my phone after spending hours, and I mean hours drooling over my new home and lock Screen of Ushijima’s tasty pectorals and toned to high heaven abdomen. No one would know however as I long since invested into a privacy screen but as I slip my phone into my bra, I don’t notice the slightly bent appearance of my shoe locker door.  

Kicking off my trainers and absentmindedly sticking my hand inside only for my fingertips to be touching the cool metal of the bottom of my locker. Instantly looking up I see the empty four corners and the sparse space that would have been housing my indoor slippers. I’m not a complete twat to forget my slippers and nor did I take them back to the dorm with me since the only other pair of shoes that I have on me are my gym trainers and the ones that I’m wearing.   

Missing morning tutor as I scour around the school trying to locate the bastards but to no avail, they nowhere that I could have possibly left them. Then as I pass over the vending machines and trash cans do I see those oh-so familiar white plimsolls. Shifting over to them and plucking them from the pile of muck and – purposely placed – peels, dirt and grime that smothers the white into an ashen greyish brown.   

Just great.  

I sorely remember placing them back into my locker yesterday after class as I kicked on my outdoor trainers, looking indiscriminately at them and the kneaded in grime with fingerprint smudges. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know that this is an aggravated planned attack. It takes me far too long -an hour – at best to get them cleaned after thoroughly putting in some elbow grease and finally waiting for them to fully dry in the dryer.  

I don’t understand why anyone would want to do this to me?  

I can think of several reasons.  

But I haven’t wronged anyone thus far? Have I ?  

Probably.  

The day flies by faster than I would have liked yet nothing else happens after that yet the sinking suspicion that tomorrow is going to be worse leaves me hoarding my indoor shoes in my gym bag.   

Practice is the same, it’s normal. I remind coach that Tendou and Shirabu need extra stamina training since they were the last to finish yesterday’s marathon. He didn’t look all too pleased with the information nor did the boys as he continuously drilled them to perfection – if that’s even possible. Poor Tendou and shit-eating Shirabu got the worst of it, I might have to get them something for dobbing them out to the coach but that doesn’t mean I can’t snicker in the corner as I watch their suffering continue. Making sure to at least allocate some time away to do some managerial duties such as surveying Semi-semi on his improved jump serves.  

His shoulders seem far slacker than before with as much fluidity as a spring chicken, he’s no seal in water nor as slick as his competitors but he’s stopped acting like he’s carrying a boner around all the damn time. His spikes are more powerful but he’s severely lacking that flashy push if he doesn’t have that then what does he have to offer to the team.  

Just like that practice ended in a flash as the grumpy git besides me had previously spoken to me about the boy’s needing to ‘ focus ’ for their inter-high preliminaries that are coming up soon.  

Now standing around him, we all - they - await the news.  

“As you all know, the inter-high preliminaries are arriving soon, I don’t want to see any of you slacking especially now when we’re all a month away. Practice will be running later into the night; I shouldn’t need to mother you all lest you want to be cut from the starting line-up.” Grimacing as I watch a wad of spit spray across the boys' faces.  

Ducking out of the way as he turns to me his grimace sour as ever before motioning for the captain to say a few kind words. Ushijima like any would expect carries out the shit pep-talk as Washijo stumbles back onto the bleachers. Everyone turns to him now, whilst the pressure would have eaten away at others especially some surrounding me, Ushijima garners that stoic grace like no other. Simply because he’s never lively liked the rest nor prods others for gossip or slaps each other’s asses with their gym towels in the locker room.  

Ushijima nods and steps forwards his eyes a heavy weight to behold as he scans the vicinity.  

“Let’s just do what we’ve always done and win.” Clapping sarcastically slow hoping to weasel a reaction out of the statue yet the boys act as if it’s another Monday evening and their benign stoic captain acts like he’s given this speech on the daily.  

Either way it lands me snuggling back into bed unaware of what tomorrow will bring.  

Tomorrow arrives with a slap in the face and my gnawing suspicions tearing up my gut as they celebrate in knowing that whilst my indoor slippers are dry, my locker is not. Sloppily filled trash, pieces of rotten leaves and banana peels are a few of the delicious ingredients fermenting inside my empty shoe locker. A few students ogle as I pick out the disgusting gunk with a glove that I thankfully packed not in hopes of one day using them and wipe the surfaces clean before class starting.  

Am I being bullied? I’m starting to question that a lot these days.  

At least from what I’ve learnt and experienced its best to leave the situation and act like the coldest bitch that they’ve ever encountered, but I won’t forget that I’ve still got to act whilst the iron is still hot. Acting unfazed is my specialty but it doesn’t matter what I end up doing it’s going to rile them up either way so I might as well become their worst nightmare if they want to mess with the devil.  

Grinning far too wickedly that I unknowingly startle a few victims along the way to class, a flock of whispering students circle around my desk and as I head closer, I see the lovely white lily. Someone’s anonymously gifted me a flower? That is so sweet and one of the cutest things someone can ever do, but why is everyone looking at it as if they’ve just seen a ghost let alone be honoured to receive such a wonder.  

This is so thoughtful, yet their vibe is ruining mine, I guess I’ll just have to wait before Ushijima and Yamagata gets here, at least they’ll appreciate my gift. Sweeping down my skirt as I wait for the boys to arrive, and they do in time, but their reactions are something I didn’t quite expect. Even Ushijima’s slight raised brows and widened eyes sparked a crazed nerve within me, just what the hell does that even mean?  

“Guys look someone gifted me a flower, isn’t it sweet.” Cooing over to them only noticing Yamagata’s strange grunt and diverting gaze whilst Ushijima’s boldly holds mine.  

Silence draws in slower than I would like but it eventually decides to check in its stay allowing me enough time to scan over towards the sliding doors to find chuggers and her cohort snickering obscenely away in the corner. They should just fester there since they’re already destroying the mood. My gaze is that of a dissatisfied mother all too aware of her daughters' misgivings, it flicks from her troop to her before disregarding their existence entirely. I can’t be bothered to be dealing with their silly antics today since I have bigger fish to fry, such as why are the boys acting so strangely?  

But I have no time to ask as the homeroom teacher finally makes his appearance, self-study leaves me with more questions than answers as I continue to feel the pelting of the boys' eyes scorching eyeholes in the back of my head.   

I want to ask what all the staring is about, but the chance never presents itself once self-study ends and English begins. I leave the flower in the back of the classroom since I hope no one will touch it as I move to the next class, both Yamagata and Ushijima watch me carefully as I do so.  

It's becoming tedious with not knowing what they’re thinking.  

Tendou and Semi-semi make the ever boring watered down English lesson fun with their constant bickering and snide remarks that the teacher ends up wanting to separate the three of us midway through the session. However, I think through the sheer grace of my grades he doesn’t bother any more than giving us a few stern looks to dismiss our torture onto our fellow peers.  

But I can’t stop overhearing the faint chatter of some of the insecure girls in the back making some harsh remarks about me. I should have just dealt with them there, yet I didn’t. My face just scrunches up in annoyance and I go back to distracting the others.  

I can feel it now as clear as day, the tensions are high especially in gym class where the coach thought it best to play football or God forbid soccer – which is an abomination to British history and culture. Where some of the girls on my team would pass me the ball and freeze me out altogether. Am I not existing enough for you Karen?!   

How mature of them.  

The overarching echos of shouts and calls to pass the ball or watch where it's going to hit mostly blankets the dreaded name calling that’s been targeted towards me.   

“Y/n.”  

Turning around as I swear that I overheard my name, but I didn’t get to see the warning smug face nor the gaping mouths as I'm struck in the face.  

The smacking sound echoing in the gymnasium.  

Unfortunately, the boys don’t hear it since they’re outside doing track and field games. I'm left alone with a bunch of snakes.  

I don’t remember much until I'm blinking blearily up into the shafters of the ceiling wondering when the last time someone got up there for a good scrub. Its then the chorus of laughter's barrel through the ringing in my ears and the uncontrolled tears break free as the ache in my nose is the first thing I feel, I can't remember the last time I felt such a sting. Once in middle school I received a volleyball with my face during practice, and I had a black eye for days including a swollen face for about a week but this, this feels intentional.  

From the way the ball broke into a fierce spin and the force propelling it forwards I certainly rule out any accidents that the preparator claims it to be. Slowly getting up with nothing but an annoyed grumble with the aided help of the few girls that don’t revel in my downfall. Funnily enough something must have kickstarted in the teacher as she forces me to go to the nurse’s office.   

I've had enough of this shit; this is the final straw.   

The roundtrip to the nurse's office, a full explanation to why my nose is furiously bleeding and heading back to the locker room leaves me starkly abandoned by everyone. All that’s left is my uniform and upon further inspection I can safely assume that its well and truly shredded and sopping wet, and my bag is nowhere to be found.  

They must mistake me for a fool if I'm going to let them get away with this-  

A blinking glittery thing catches the corner of my eye, there fallen under the benches before the lockers is a bright sparkly phone. Reaching out for it feels like scraping my hand against fake rocks as some of the gemstone's peels onto my hand. Flipping it over I instantly recognise the pink fluffy keychain belonging to one of the groupies that follow chuggers around everywhere. I'm more than certain that she’s also the very person who kicked that fucking football in my face, flipping it open I can’t say if she was dumb enough not to have a password or I'm a genius for finding it.  

I might just go on that murdering spree after all in the name of retribution.  

Heading straight to the dorms to first change into my spare uniform before sending out a text to Yui-chan to come; this isn’t some petty revenge anymore I'm going nuclear. Heading down to main reception with my shredded uniform in tow where I had originally come here as the new transfer student suddenly entering her third year to now as someone enraged and in need of help.  

A few moments later I find Yui patiently at the door with a takeaway bag in hand, Himari stands next to her with an unreadable expression. But I guess once I get closer and my face is revealed to be far more butchered than I had started the day with does shock roll in. Yui blinkers like a deer in headlights almost dropping her precious hot food whilst Himari runs up to me standing on her tippy toes to reach out. She at first doesn’t want to touch my face maybe too afraid that I will shatter in the first instance of contact, yet she throws such mix messages away when I'm engulfed in her chipmunk sized grasp.  

“Oh, I didn’t know you cared so much.” Maybe joking about this wasn’t the best moves as Himari just hits me and Yui continues to frown.  

“Uh, rude.” Yui clicks her tongue.  

“Of course, we care and what the heck happened to your face?” Himari declares as she makes room for me to open the door.  

Waving her off me as I don’t want to waste the little lunch break that we have left with being pestered by a thousand questions.  

Entering inside I don’t see the weirdly shaped parcel dropped by the entrance as I instantly make a beeline for my room. The others follow behind, Himari goes to my bed and Yui sits at my desk before I hand her the phone. She turns it over scrutinising the pink sparkly gemstones with an innate disgust painting across her face.  

“This isn’t mine.” an instant wicked smirk appears once she flips it open.  

“Its owner forgot it after they kicked a football into my face and then proceeded to mess with my stuff.” Referring to my face.  

The desk creaks under my weight as I continue to feel the ache spasming all over my T-zone which surprisingly enough doesn’t kill as much as my eyes where a nasty purple semi-circle is beginning to bruise underneath my right eye. Crossing my arms as I feel the weight of their stares butcher over my scorned body already wanting to hide my weaker inner self from them.  

“A ball was kicked into my face in gym class today, majority of the girls are saying shit behind my back, my uniform was shredded and wet then in tutor I found a white lily on my desk but I'm guessing that’s a bad sign.” The girl’s gasp gets louder by each added tragedy that’s happened to me today.  

My life is a joke at this point.  

“But then I found this bad boy, it must have fallen through the gaps when they were getting changed, oh the fools, they don’t know what’s about to hit them.” A sinister laugh escapes me.  

Yui doesn’t need to be told twice as she too smiles sardonically with that evil glint in her eyes as she commandeers my laptop and begins connecting the flip phone to it. I’m not surprised or somewhat concerned with how Yui conducts herself in her spare time when she not only downloads all the data from the device but also finds a nifty little app that at first appears looks like a calculator but is in fact a secret messaging platform.  

“I don’t know if they thought that no one would lose their phone and get it hacked but they’re using their real names. With this we know who they are, what grade they’re in and indite them for all they’re worth.” She finishes by saving the files in a USB stick that she just randomly carries with her.  

“So, what are we going to do?” Himari pipes up in the back.  

Oh, I love her for thinking that this is now a ‘ we ’ problem. A happy smile coating my lips as I think up the perfect plan.  

“Oh, you know do some light hunting and then set all their asses on fire.” Grinning evilly while watching Yui set a ping off to all our phones.  

She isn’t just brilliant but an absolute genius as the flip phone is mirrored onto my phone as well as Himari’s in a one-way connection meaning that we’ll be able to weasel them out of their hidey-hole.   

“Well, I hope that you fuck with them as much as possible.” Both me and Himari are left star struck, my bitch just swore.  

Where is my sweet little innocent Yui gone? Because I just might be digging this new version a little too hard right now.  

“We ride at dawn.”  

Returning to maths before the bells strikes surprises many of my peers out of their seats when I walk in like nothing ever happened minus the evident bruise now purpling in my T-zone and under my right eye. Ushijima seems far from cheery and somehow taking up the feral look as he surveys the damages done to me.  

We don’t talk much and I suffer alone in my piling equations. I'll have to ask him later in practice why was so moody this morning but the only bit of concern that I get for my wounds is silence.  

Class ends but as I’m packing up, I witness the deep disgust forming on chuggers and her posse as they clicked their tongues before walking away. Tarts.  

History class is just tipping on with wanting to commit murder with how bored out of my mind I am with Tendou acting as an accomplice. He too like Ushijima has worry in his eyes while he characteristically wears his wide smile as he laughs through all my shit attempts to be uplifting. The teacher tried to tell us off but that just made things worse, out of all the boy’s me and Tendou have the same dark humour, so we get on like a house on fire. It’s even greater when he’s attractive, while we joke many inappropriate fantasies linger on my mind and I can’t help but grin lustfully at him.  

I don’t even try hide it.   

My first ping of the day comes right after class as if all the crazies decided that maintaining their good girl images are far more important than chatting in their occultist group chat. Even their group chat name is fucking ironic, ‘ Mean Girls ’ with a pink heart, I even checked their admin notes and it’s just fucking quotes from the stupid-ass movie.  

Being original is obviously not their forte.  

Currently they’re just making up shit that I so happened to do during the day like hitting on Ushijima and sinking my claws into Tendou. But the most recent comments seem to be how they’re now orchestrating a meet up and how they’re going to fuck me up. It's a fucking joke even most of their words aren’t spelled correctly and I'm a halfy.  

This is the perfect plan however beating them at their own game when I can just use this against them, the faster this is over the better my life can continue to prosper without their wank stain of an existence dampening it.  

Tendou POV  

Y/n-chan didn’t join us for lunch and whilst that’s a blessing in disguise both Hayato and Wakatoshi-kun had something to say about the little incident this morning. Well, mostly Hayato-kun since Wakatoshi only grunted in confirmation to what my suspicions had been gnawing on since she arrived.  

I wouldn’t say that outside of volleyball we’re all that popular but nothing beats being the star and captain of Shiratorizawa like Ushijima Wakatoshi, he’s always managed to get girls even without trying. That's always without trying unlike what the girls believe Wakatoshi is quite frankly incapable of speaking to girls and flirting with them.  

I doubt that he even has the inhibitions to do so.  

Volleyball is his rock and his world, and nothing gets in between it not even school dramas and definitely not girls. So, of course, he would be oblivious to what’s happening to Y/n-chan or what appears to be true on the surface as I suspect a miniature war is brewing within him. But the girls seem to have this thing – clique – about Wakatoshi being there’s and no one else’s all at the same time.  

Everyone knows about it, yet it’s become a taboo thing unless you want to be ostracised by the entire female student body, it’s happened before and many of the guys fear the girls at the top of the food chain. But not Y/n she was a bulldozer to all their schemes, and I love it, the chaos that she’s unintentionally creating just for being herself.  

So, as her friend and teammate I can’t stand it anymore, I won’t let my friend suffer under these bitches, for too long have they reigned with an iron fist over the student body. It's time for their destruction.  

Thankfully, as we stretch by the corner me, Hayato, Semi-semi ,Wakatoshi – not out of own volition – and Reon have a small window to talk whilst Y/n-chan fills up the water bottles.  

The silence is broken with me.  

“Let's face it the girls have got out of hand and Y/n-chan is suffering. Have you seen her face?” Adding as I bend into a lunge.  

Wakatoshi-kun stretches out his arm crossing over his chest as if he’s on autopilot but his expression is fowl sending shivers up my spine. He's always been the silent, unfazed, oblivious type with one resting face that could beat a statue in a staring competition, but I've never seen him make that expression before.  

I would tease him for only now showing his true colours, but I doubt he even recognises that he’s pulling such a face. Still, it can’t hurt to try.  

“Eh - Wakatoshi-kun showing emotions - it’s as if you like her – does it perhaps hurt you to see her like this?” Cooing I wriggle my eyebrows in a suggestive manner, but his expression drops, and he looks down at his shoes.  

See, I was right about him being unaware of his behaviour. He always is.   

“No. I’m the captain of this team and she’s a part of it. Just concerned over a member of my team.” He states bluntly with no emotion laced into his voice.  

“You concerned over-”  

“What are we going to do?” but the bouncy little libero jumps in throwing out my surprise with more questions than answers.  

Hayato-kun leans against the wall his knees bent out before him as he sits on nothing, but pure painstaking muscle and we all look at him for stage two. Maybe something will pop into our heads and save us from pondering on how to stop an army of chicks from killing Y/n-chan.  

“BOO!”  

I swear all our hearts jumps out of our chests, clinging to Semi-semi like a frightened child and the culprit bursts out into a fit of laughter as if our fear is amusing to her. Until all too quickly the burst of joy silences out into dust and she deadpans at us all almost a gender bent image of Wakatoshi-kun.  

Are these two clones of each other?  

“Don’t worry I've got it covered. All you must do is just wait for me after my last class tomorrow.” She adds giving us all a cutesy smile before turning to devilish grin that screams ‘I’m going to enjoy killing you’.  

It takes longer for me to register the underlining meaning; it seems like our pervy manager is brighter than the stars that illuminate the night sky. For one thing that I do understand quickly is that Y/n-chan is a girl you do not want to mess with but where’s all the fun in that.   

This girl is crazy and I’m here for it.  

Reader POV  

Tick-tock.  

Tick tock.  

Tick. Tock.  

Time is moving too slow; I've been waiting all day for this fucking gang up meeting but it’s only now lunch time and I'm too buzzed to eat anything. I want it now. Cradling my face into my hands I could simply cry with how shit this is and how slow everything around me seems to be going.  

Is the universe mocking me?  

Have I done something to upset you?  

Must you go so slowly.  

That you rather have me sitting here sandwiched between Tendou and Ushijima because it’s fun? Because it sure is but that doesn’t stop the death stares and the blood thirst from growing rather it encourages it. I'm hungry and my food is far from appetising, yet I eat nonetheless, and I don’t won’t the mob of my friends chasing me down with hot buns and onigiri.  

Yui and Himari seem to be hitting it off with the others, I was at first apprehensive about the two worlds colliding, but it seems I was worried for nothing. Yui seems to be getting along with the grumpiest git alive and Himari is sparking conversations out of Ohira as if her life depended on it.  

Tendou is more than enjoying sitting next to me and watching as the table becomes alive with our laughter and their god-awful banter. Honestly boys have the weirdest shit to talk about that no country nor language could ever get between.  

“What’s got ya sighing so badly? Is it because you’re sexually frustrated or-” Tendou doesn’t finish his sentence as Yamagata smacks upside the head.  

Tendou smacks him back if not tenth fold.  

“What? Yes, and kinda, I just want this day to end already so I can just do this thing.” Answering like no one is listening that I just turn to Ushijima who continues to eat his curry without worry.  

At least some of us have their appetites.  

“Isn’t that meet up today? What you’re going to do?” Ohira sincerely asks while looking up as he blows on his spoon filled with his Miso soup.  

“Yesssssss……” Groaning I hit my head on the table if it means I go back to staring at Ushijima whilst he eats, aw look his cheeks are full, he looks so adorable that it reminds me of a chipmunk when their pouches are full.  

His eyes slip away briefly from his Hayashi rice and our eyes connect, it’s not as magical as they describe it in books and movies, but it sure does make me feel like the only girl in his world.   

“I’ll probably fuck them up, ya know the basics.” The table goes quieter than when a tumbleweed flows by in the wind in one of those old western movies.  

Tendou only then erupts into a fit of laughter, he must think I'm insane, I might think I'm insane, but he soon stops, and we deadpan at each other.  

Are we being serious right now? I don’t know.  

Finally, the bell rings and my waiting continue even as the class begins to fill and of course the last bitch to come in is chuggers and the gang. I never really like people who insta-like me, but I also equally don’t like the people who are quick to judge me due to my last name. Just because I happened to be born in a famous volleyball family with Annabelle making a name for herself in the sports-fashion industry.  

I shouldn’t have but I did get used to people flocking to me when I was growing up because of it, they would swarm and be quick to change their opinions about me the minute I did something to break their expectations. Their fantasy version of myself who was also this mega lucky girl who also had the skills to go into professional volleyball if I wanted to so that for sure makes me a benevolent creature or does that make me a bitch like everyone else?  

I stopped caring after an incident in the beginning of high school right after moving to the US for a change of scenery when I smacked a bully with the metal lunch tray during break. I nearly got kicked out and off the team if it wasn’t for my parents urging for the school to better discipline the actual cause of the problem and not the victim who did something about it. After that people stopped flocking and I started living my life free of their concerns until again, I'm right back where I started.  

This time however I have skills that I didn’t have before one of them being able to read people, it comes with being watched all the time, the public, my friends, the people that flocked to me but gossiped about me behind my back. Human behaviour has one of the easiest tells amongst the animal kingdom that is if you know what you’re looking for.  

Chuggers and co seem delighted even if they wear malice like when men wear Lynx aftershave. It's cheap and unoriginal.  

Class ends and I make a final goodbye to the few boys that in before slowing down my movements and making sure that the clean-up crew fucks off before I might tear out my hair. It's a now or never opportunity and I'm more than sure that the guys must reel back Yui and Himari from going apeshit if this doesn’t go right.  

I've always been a fighter, growing up with four brothers and a sister makes you a survivalist. So, I guess I got double lucky for being prepped for verbal and physical fights and if anything goes south, I have plan B to save me and fuck with them.  

The school is already working against them as we speak. They haven’t spoken yet, but they will in due course.  

The door clacks a closed as if we’ve now entered the third act and all the drama that’s been building up over the past two is now coming to its climax. It's a damn shame that the tension feels more like a mediocre low-budget drama than the Hollywood specials exclusive to cinemas, but they get a gold star for trying.  

They walk over to me each one smirking, some grimacing to the point that they could audition for ‘ Babe ’ the pig. I stifle a laugh and right then one of them slaps me across the face, it’s a piss poor slap but the underlining meaning is there I just don’t give a shit. Licking my lips, I smile even brighter, and their joy is stifled with disgust.  

Forming a tight circle around me the girls remain at an arms distance away in case I might bite back I suspect; chuggers cross her arms under her buoying balloons, but I think she adds some chicken fillets to make them appear bursting from the seams. Her eyes flick me up and down before rolling them, corn colour hair looks as dry as ever, there’s bleach blonde and then there’s straw.  

“Stay away from Ushijima-san, or we’ll fuck you up, better yet quit the team right now.” She spits her venom at me.  

Is this meant to sound threatening?  

My brothers drip more fear into their smack than whatever drivel she’s reciting from. I am unmoving and become one with a statue as I stare blankly into her dried-up soul. She clucks like a chicken thinking she’s a rooster when in reality she’s dinner. Good, she’s getting agitated that her plan isn’t working, her words mean nothing to me.  

“Oi, you whore you think you’re all high and mighty getting into their good books, I bet all they think of when they look at you is when is the next bang.” Turning to a bob cut girl with half shaved eyebrows.  

Is she trying to imitate that cyberpunk style in ‘ Ghost in the shell ’ because she looks more doll like than ‘ I’m going to end your life ’ like.  

I perk up at this.  

“Oh, you really think so, I have been trying my hardest to seduce them you see so that just means that it’s working.” Smiling overjoyed, they look mortified at the unexpected statement from me.   

“Oh, I can’t wait now just to see Wakatoshi, just to want him to slap my arse like he’s hitting a spike~ Oh yes daddy.” Moaning out as I fake an orgasm.  

The girls shift uncomfortable on their heels, looking to each other for comfort from this crazy bitch.  

“How dare you call him by his first name.” Chuggers goes into slap me, my focuses divert downwards to where they jiggle and bounce with each movement, I mean it’s totally worth the slap.  

I would in any other scenario dodge the impending attack but what beats having one slap on record when you can dob in the queen bitch for slapping me defenceless. My left cheek stings, and I let the instinctive waterworks to stream down my face. It’s hard to stop them but with a big breath in only a few seems to satisfy her childish slap, I've been hit in the face with a fucking volleyball by one of brothers, this shit means nothing.  

She smiles smugly to herself and the others, it must look so easy to them, I don’t even try to stifle the next laugh that spurts out of me. She looks like she thinks she just won the game, oh no honey the game has just begun.  

“Now do as we say or get ready for a world of pain, I can destroy your social life just like that.” Snapping her fingers, the other girls move back to circling me.  

I can’t hold it in anymore, this shit is hysterical, I bring my hand to her shoulder, and she flinches under my touch. I pull her into my embrace, she’s feverish and stinks of lavender. She struggles but when you grow up with four brothers and each one is both deadly competitive on the court and has no remorse you learn to have an iron grip on the ball.  

“Oh, honey you have no idea what a world of pain even feels like but don’t worry I can help you with that.” Whispering into her ear, my breath caressing the side of her face.  

Pulling back, she stumbles only to hushed by my finger and the shivers that current through her to me is electrifying.  

“Shush now, if you really wanted play so badly you should’ve just asked.” I step up to her now, invading her space as she did with me.  

“You think you’ve won when in reality you lost the moment you stole my slippers,” pausing to look over towards the cloudy window that look out into the hallway.   

“Let me explain this for you as it must be hard to have such a tiny brain to overcompensate for your melons. Me and Wakatoshi are meant to be, fuck that sexy beast of a man sent me something juicy just to get me on the team his desperation to have me is such a turn on that whenever I’m around him I just want to pounce him. But I respect the captain too much to insult him like that when we aren’t even dating…yet.” Tilting my head, licking the curve of her ear, she shivers delightfully as I continue.   

“Fuck with me or my friends again I’ll hunt you down and do more than just ‘ talk ’ to you, I’ll hunt down your friends and your family, because honey the one with the real power to make your social life non-existent is me. After all I am the daughter of a famous volleyball player as well as the little sister to four brothers and an incredibly famous sister that can end your prospects like that.” Snapping my finger on the other side of her head, chuggers flinches.  

“So, come at me with all you’ve got I’ll be waiting to happily destroy you.” Whispering quietly so only she can hear; her friends seem eager to retort.  

Her eyes are owlish, like a deer in headlights.  

Before I let this go on any further, I give out the signal for the others to come out, the girls stand there frozen when they see the very angry volleyball team’s third years block the entrance, Ohira hands me my phone.  

Good it’s saved.  

“This ladies, is evidence.” all the colour drains from their faces, chugger’s keeps her back facing us.  

“You’d days are numbered.” I watch with delight amusement as one of the girls buckles beneath the weight of herself falling to her knees.  

I crouch before her and give her the gift of my fearsome headbutts to her swollen little face and as this is all off the record now, I turn, pulling back my body into a slight turn and punch chuggers square in the tit and elbowing dolly in the stomach. I would’ve done more if the team wasn’t here and if I didn’t have a plan in action to deal with these fuckers.  

Soon leaving them in their misery I re-joined back up with the team on our way to practice as they all congratulate me on how I handled it, coach is going to be more than pissed that we’re late but it’s worth it. Some of the guys are a tad bit angry and let it show during practice after the scolding. Ushijima nearly gives some of the poor first years sprained hands as they tried to block him.  

The following day the girls surprisingly didn’t show up because in fact I was that salty bitch that went to the head with my report file and told on them like the little snitch I am. He was horrified and compensated me with a new uniform and expelling the perpetrators immediately. News spread like wildfire throughout school and that’s where the fangirls learnt to never mess with me again.  

If they do, they should start writing their wills as no one wants to play fire with the devil incarnate herself.  

Chapter Text

It’s been a couple of days since the end of the smear campaign that many of the fan-clubs were funding to raze down my honourable name. However, they had no idea of my wrath or what that exactly entails for their future prospects. The clubs might have been dissolved and the girls that ganged up on me that day might have been expelled and accessories suspended, but my reach doesn’t end there. Oh no, it ends by blacklisting their names across Japan, sullying their chances for admissions into prestigious universities as well as contacting their future career prospects.

This school might be for the gifted, however, it takes someone of superior intellect and strategic awareness to blue ball their launching career before take-off. I might have started this school year with only respect and friendliness in mind. But if it takes fear and perpetual terror about one's launching career being blacklisted from their foolish mistake, then so be it, fucking weep, and break into a sweat when you hear my name.

I am not going to be someone’s bitch.

Currently, the coaches are debating amongst themselves about cancelling an upcoming match due to the opposing team having been struck by the flu. The team itself is from Sendai University. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the root cause of this debacle. College kids and drinking results in freshers flu, and with the new school year still in effect makes for a resulting predicament for us. On such short notice, no nearby school that could surely challenge the boys can come forward, with many of the major city schools favouring their tight-knit community.

It’s such a shame when we were making so much progress so far and I, for one, was very much looking forward to ogling at the college boys and their polished muscular anatomy. Farewell, sculptured gods and miserably say hello to awkward, hormonal teenage boys and their punctured acne scars, croaky voices, and their newly appointed discovery: body spray.

Watching the boys continue their drills, I don’t notice Coach Washijo turning around and hobbling over until it’s too late, his grandpa smell menacingly wafts up my nostrils. It takes everything in me to hold back my vomit and stop from stumbling back into my precious vacuumed-sealed bubble.

“Me and Coach Saito, will be focusing on trying to find a replacement school for this weekend, however, make sure to keep the boys on track. I don’t want them slacking off just because they have no opponent to face this week. Understood?” He demands, his antique perfume clinging to my every orifice.

Meekly humming a response, afraid that if I opened my mouth, I would have ended up tasting whatever Coach Washijo decided to drench himself in today, probably the tears of his previous students. With that being said, a dreadful thought pinches at the back of my mind, but I can’t seem to fathom what it is and especially not now during the worst rush of the day.

Lunchtime.

I don’t know why I ever held these boys in high regard or fathomed behind that thought process in the beginning. When I’ve got ten-plus junior athletes that have stomachs the size of black holes and engines of 1973 Chevrolet Camaro that sometimes get stuck cranking into gear. Not to mention that ever since the incident with the fan clubs, the girls and I have all collectively agreed to fuck what other people think and join the boys in their daily waterhole feast.

They’re like animals clambering for seconds, there’s Tendou shamelessly flirting with the lunch ladies who by good reason ignore his sorry attempts and usher him away. Shirabu reprimanding him for trying in the first place and holding up the line at the till, and it doesn’t help when Semi enters the playing field, badgering both Shirabu and Tendou to get a move on. All the while, Ushijima is already peacefully sitting at the end of the table waiting for his team to arrive, so he can finally enjoy his standard Hayashi rice.

He eats that every day without missing a beat, and he’s somehow always at the table before anyone else. I have to give him some credit, he’s like Houdini, disappearing and reappearing where you least expect him to be. It’s kind of attractive, however, it’s infuriatingly annoying when I’m trying to talk to him about practice or anything other than practice. Ushijima runs off a pre-scheduled routine that he follows to a tee, and removing him from that course results in disastrous consequences.

I would know since all week I’ve been trying to close the distance between us since I boldly claimed that I fantasise about him harshly fucking me against a wall and claiming me as his, which is fortunately true. To say that I’m a bit fucked is an understatement, but what else is new, Tendou revealed to me before that he likes reading, so I tried that avenue. It was like talking to a brick wall that uttered dry replies, but just like what Tendou said, it takes a little more nudging, coaxing with volleyball and patience to have him open-up to me.

Some people take time, and Ushijima takes a century to murmur about his interest in subjects other than volleyball.

And I will wait until I bleed this bloody rock dry.

Sitting beside him, a hint of fresh bergamot and citrus power through the smell of curry, and it takes everything in me from inhaling deeply and savouring every last inch of his body. Alas, the moment is ruined by Tendou slithering between the bench seat and table and manspreading his limbs out and pushing me into Ushijima’s scrumptious bubble. It feels amazing, and Ushijima doesn’t seem to mind or notice as he’s consumed in his meal. Shirabu sits opposite to him, sneakily taking glances at him over his tray as Ohira rounds up beside him as Himari and Yui quickly squeeze in, taking the last seat at the table. On my left, however, Goshiki takes the corner seat closest to Ushijima which irks Shirabu who expresses his displeasure through badgering the poor first year. Semi rolls his eyes and inadvertently pulls himself into the fray, as Shirabu doesn’t take kindly towards his indifference.

Then the nagging thought from earlier presses towards the forefront of my mind again, however, the payoff is not as satisfying as I’d thought. Somehow, there seems to be something else that needs urgently attending to.

“Everyone make sure to eat your greens, which includes you, Tendou and Goshiki.” The arguing halts for the briefest moments, allowing for calm to flood back in.

Oh, how fruitless of a dream that is.

“Yes, mummy!” Tendou exclaims, swinging back and bringing the chaos right back with him.

Again, I have no idea why I thought these guys were ever mature in the first place.

Slowly rubbing at my temple, my tired eyes flag upwards connecting to every male within the vicinity as a collective gulp audibly echoes throughout the room and, of course, one idiot decided to swallow a whole piece. Goshiki chokes, his cheeks flaring red and the veins in his neck feverishly rising to a stand. Sighing, I get up and walk over towards him, whacking him on the back as he coughs and coughs, displacing the morsel of food and irrevocably shattering any remaining relationship between, he and Shirabu. As the piece projectiles out from his gob and lands mere centimetres away from his tray.

“Do I have to tell you to eat your food slowly, or can you do that by yourself?” Goshiki flinches, his face blanching as Shirabu looks moments away from killing him.

Returning to my seat and my daily ritual of staring blissfully at the man of the hour, Ushijima Wakatoshi, as I condemn myself to the fiery pits of hell for my unsavoury thoughts that riddle my soul. Butterflies flutter at my insides and churn everything into a mess, especially when I turn back to the task of eating just so I can prolong my staring activity. However, there’s a clatter of utensils and bug-eyed stares across the three tables as everything stops to stare at me with a look of horror.

Slowly glancing to my left as the thought dawns on me what had just happened; I moaned… out loud. Instantly, heat flushes to my cheeks, especially when I notice the smallest glimmer of a smile etching its way onto Ushijima’s perfect face.

The final bell rings, and I’m extra speedy with placing my tray onto the counter and getting the hell out of there, only to run into another kind of torture. Coach Washijo bleating down the phone at the poor sod who had the mistake of flicking his switch before he nearly rips out the last threads of his thinning hair and abruptly hangs up.

His eyes go wide upon noticing me.

“Something… wrong?” Slowly treading closer as the sensitive topic could well and truly blow up in my face.

He points his head up high, and his frown lines deepen, is this a good sign or am I about to be his next unsuspecting victim.

“It seems there are no schools available on such short notice.” He sighs miserably, admitting the truth.

Well, shit.

“If those damned morons didn’t get sick, we wouldn’t be in this mess, are they not athletes.” He seethes, his spit straining to spray onto my face as his fists clench tightly at his sides.

If there’s no team available in the area, then what can the boys do then, more training drills. Even I know that at a certain point practice needs to end in a match, not just continuous streams of never-ending drills that wear down the body but also the mind. Matches stimulate every player to have an awareness of not just their teammates, but of the unknown opposition that neither have grown accustomed to.

Come on, think there must be a team out there that is available, wait, there is. That nagging thought from earlier finally reveals itself to me like sunshine on a rainy day.

“I know a team that’s free this Saturday.” The words tumble out faster than my brain can catch up.

Coach Washijo looks like he’s debating between congratulating me for the discovery and saving the day, and somewhat furious that I’m telling him now after having him stress all day about it. His thick bushy eyebrow arches suspiciously.

“As long as there is a team that we can practice with, I don’t give a damn where or who they are, just make it happen.” Well, I’m sure he’ll change his tune once he finds out who the boys will be facing, and I simply can’t wait.

The big day rolls around faster than I can count to ten. I am shitting bricks, big, rectangular blocks that are just as dry and painful to push out as the anchor of responsibility that falls onto my shoulders. They’re late and I’m so fucking dead. I’ve managed to convince the coaches that extra warm-ups are something all the boys will be needing upon revealing who this secret team is. Coach Washijo is more than welcome to allow the boys the extra time, only if I come up on my end.

Just my luck, they have to be late.

Fortunately, lady luck is on my side today, the two large steel doors finally open, blinding everyone behind me. Blindly, I barrel into the arms of my father.

“Dad!” I shout, my cheeks straining wide to accommodate my enormous grin.

His large, trunk-like arms scoop around my body and nearly squeezes all my essential organs out of me.

Placing me back on the ground with all my organs stored safely within my fleshy suit. Looking him up and down, I take in and appreciate my sister, Annabelle's new design. It’s an all-black uniform with a crazy detail of bright purple and highlight of white around the torso; it looks incredible.

“Oi, dipshit, where’s my hug?” James exclaims, moping behind dad.

My brother chucks his duffel bag to the floor and grins when he opens his arms and I follow, but I stop once I notice the straw on top of his head. His lovely dark hair has been replaced by Cornish yellow hair that’s been arranged to resemble Troy Bolton.

“What the fuck have you done with your hair? Trying to look like Zac Efron, I hate to break it to you, but you look like you fiddle with pigs.” I add boisterously laughing my head off as well as several others rounding behind him.

James remains in place, flabbergasted at my words. I still have it, I see. His number thirteen jersey stretches across his chest as it seems he’s lost some of his winter fat. His momentary loss of words doesn’t last long, as he lunges, grabbing me around the waist and slinging me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Upside down, I notice the team utterly stunned into position, unable to fathom the sight before them. The coaches warmly welcome dad and his team onto the court; James turns around to direct the manager and coaches towards dad and Coach Washijo.

“Hey, shitface, put her down, or I’ll hit you.” Andrew tells James after hitting him back of the head.

James stutters, his grip loosening, and I almost expected to face plant to the floor if it wasn’t for Leo grappling my armpits and slithering me away from James’s stinky back.

“What’s the point in asking when you’ve already done it.” James scowls, rubbing his head.

Thankfully, Leo is much nicer than James and places me down out of his reach, allowing me ample time to see the changes in their behaviour and physical appearances. They all certainly have lost the weight they gained from wintering with granny over Christmas. My second older brother, Andrew, throws me his duffel bag which I promptly dodge and raise my eyebrow at him, he shrugs and opens his arms for a hug.

Walking towards him, I quickly pivot and hug Leo instead.

“Oh, I see how it is.” He mutters under his breath, pretending to walk off.

“Oi, dickhead, if I knew you were going to act like a snowflake, I wouldn’t have invited you to play.” Pushing away from Leo, as I relish in luring Andrew away from his antics.

Always the drama queen.

He turns, fighting back a smile as he once again offers himself up, only to be crushed into a group hug. Squeals of laughter and popping bones crash into one another as we all nearly tumble to the ground like a pack of feral dogs.

Finally, we disperse coming up for air as dad calls me over towards the coaches, I try to hide my grimace, but I suspect my failure from dad’s pointed look. He steps away from the coaches and hands me his duffel bag, which he opens to reveal a spectacular surprise.

“Martin injured is ACL, so, you’ll be subbing in his place.” He hands me a Phantom’s uniform, number seven, my lucky and favourite number.

The other coaches look on curiously, then it hits me that I’ve been speaking in English the moment they all arrived. If it wasn’t for dad’s strict English only policy when it’s just him, I wouldn’t have slipped so easily back into my native tongue.

Glancing over my shoulder, my team still ground themselves in place, Goshiki bouncing on his heels as it seems he recognises the uniform. On the other hand, Ushijima and Shirabu observe us all like two analytics facing against a problem and watch me extra closely as I turn away from dad and towards the changing rooms.

It’s a rare sight, indeed, seeing how I’ve never used them until now.

Returning a few moments later, I notice Coach Washijo nodding towards me as I take my position besides my brothers and other teammates. Coach Washijo spares no second thought and turns back to inspire the perplexed boys.

“So, which one is it that’s your favourite? Fanny drip.” James asks, lumping all of his weight onto my shoulders.

Before I open my mouth to reply, Leo interrupts.

“I bet it’s their number five, Y/n has always had a thing for weirdos.” Jabbing him in his side, I watch without remorse as he doubles down, coughing.

 “Tendou will be shutting your ass down before you can cry for a win. Dickhead.” Smacking him over the head before your dad could reprimand the both of you.

“So, it’s definitely not him then, I wonder whether it’s between their number eight or fourteen.” Scoffing at Andrew’s claims, dad pats both of their shoulders in defeat.

I forget that my brothers are morons.

“Nope, it’s definitely their captain, what’s his name?” Dad pops into our conversation, and I sometimes worry how well he can read me.

Either way, I nod in agreement, no point in lying when he can see right through me.

“Dad wins and his name is… Ushi- Wakatoshi Ushijima.” Stuttering all over myself as I remember that Japanese names are pronounced differently than western names.

Unfortunately, that garners the poor captain’s attention, whipping his head around as if he’s a radar picking up a unique frequency just for him. My brothers snicker in the background as Ushijima and I break away from our staring contest when Leo chimes in.

“Awe man, I so thought it would be the other guy, isn’t this Wakatoshi guy a part of the national league or something.” I hide my shudder at the use of his first name.

I’ve only been here for a couple of weeks, and I’ve already become indoctrinated towards their customs, fuck me sideways. Winking and waving at the team as the other coaches stop in front of us.

“Aye! Y/n, you’re joining us.” Sam, Andrew’s best friend and libero, swings his arm around my shoulders, wrangling me into a side-hug.

He’s not much taller than me and so, the awkward embrace leaves us both tilting to one side. Martin’s role is typically an opposite hitter, but from my understanding I’m better utilised as an outside hitter, especially when I’ll be directly facing Ushijima.

“Is there anything you want to share about the team?” Dad leans the group to talk business.

Chewing my lip, I momentarily debate on snitching and decide that obliteration tastes sweeter in the face of arrogant fools. Looking over at the coach trying to hype up the already spooked team, I’m unable to blame them when they are about to play up against a national Ivy League team.

“Well, they rely heavily on their number one to carry the team, and don’t be fooled they might be an offensive team, but their strategies are lacking. Their only great defence is their number five, he’s a guess blocker, and he’s exceptionally good at it.” I take great pleasure in shredding Shiratorizawa’s chances into smithereens.

My brother's face lights up like a Christmas tree.

“Wow fuck face, you just totally snitched on your team there, how does it feel?” James asks, patting my back.

Facing the team with a glorious smile of victory presented on my face.

“Fucking marvellous, let’s go and destroy their spirits, shall we.” They all cheer in response, and so we line up while my dad shakes hands with Ushijima.

We all get into position.

“Y/n-chan since-uh-when did you play?” Tendou sasses at me like he’s become part of a chick-flick.

“Since I fucking ripped into your asses on my first day. It also helps that I’m on the American Woman’s team for under twenty-ones, as well as being scouted for the Japanese national youth team as we speak.” The team looks utterly dumbfounded at my response, which isn’t worrying at all.

Nodding at Ushijima as his towering presence off the court is as enormously sexy on the court. Biting my lip until I feel blood as James smacks me up the head with a shit eating grin. Turning to face him, I notice that dad has taken the server's position.

“Awe diddums, you boys are fucked.” Andrew coos behind me, knowing that most of them have no idea what he’s saying.

Ohira and Shirabu are the sole survivors and don’t take kindly to the smack talk.

This set’s rotation has me on the left as the outside hitter, which thankfully has me up against Ushijima. Leo on the right and James front and centre as the setter. Andrew behind as my additional wingspiker, and Sam behind James and dad as defence specialist and server. Standing with them feels surreal, especially when I’m up against my now Japanese high school team.

They know I can fight, but don’t know how well I can hold one.

“Oi, fanny drip, you better put your hands behind your head, dad’s new serve is destructive as shit.” Andrew warns behind me, I interlock my hands.

The whistle blows and all I hear is the ripping of air and the smacking of rubber on wood as the ball skims the ground and bounces on the edge of the white line across from me. The sight ahead is so fucking delicious, I graciously lap up their destroyed ego and savour their failure, for this fight will be short-lived.

“Woah, dad, what the fuck was that.” I turn around only to pivot back, finding him still warming up.

Whoopsies.

“Better up your game, boys, your little manager spilled the beans on you.” James adds in his rusty Japanese.

Turning to face my team after smacking him again only to find betrayal smacking me back in the face. The litter regret I do feel comes from not sewing his lips shut when I had the chance.

“Oh, don’t look like that, if you little bitch can’t handle this, do you really deserve to go to nationals.” I add salt to their festering wounds, wanting a fight with lots of blood and carnage.

“Need ice for that burn.” Leo hisses on my right.

“Oh, you’re on, Y/n-chan, we’re going to destroy you.” Tendou talks smack back to me, and my brothers erupt into a fit of laughter.

“Really now, that is, if you can dig up my dad’s super serves.” Sticking my tongue out and returning to my position.

Dad scores another four points before slowing down and allowing for one to stray away from the course. I’m not surprised that Ushijima barely registers the change and only revs into action when Ohira digs the ball up towards Shirabu who sets it for him. I’m not going to catch him if I jump alongside him, but if I wait for him until his feet leave the ground, I’ll be able to match him with a delayed block and I do. Sam is ready for a cross shot, while Andrew settles behind me if my wrist rolls against the spike. Ushijima goes for the cross and Sam receives it cleanly without issue, even with that south paw spin.

Being ten years my senior, I guess experience beats natural-born talent, even if you’re a left-handed Japanese wingspiker.

The boys openly gape at someone digging up their captain’s spikes so quickly in the game. Sam sends the ball to James, and I’m already in the air when the ball comes into view. Of course, Tendou and Kawanishi try to block my path, leaving me no room for a straight and only a narrow line for a cross shot. I already feel my abdominal muscles scream from disuse as I flex and power my right arm downwards like a cannon, water falling between bodies.

The sound it makes is glorious.

The score resumes into our favour, five-nil.

Dad is on his sixth serve and to let the game progress, he hits the ball lighter than usual, still aiming for Ushijima who again side-steps the ball, allowing for Ohira to dig up his lousy technique. The receive is low and shaky, but it's still going up nonetheless, being a close call for Shirabu who unsurprisingly chooses his safety net.

Ushijima’s form is the epitome of perfection and his hang time is just insane as if he’s on pause. I wait like before and the moment that he spikes my right hand connects to the ball, but in my error of awe the ball rims over my fingers and smashes outside our court lines.

My mistake. I admit I was maybe a tad bit late in blocking, and karma kicks harder than the obvious revenge seething on the other side of the court. My stinging fingers thankfully appear to be in working order.

“Fuck, shit, you fucking bastard.” Swearing under my breath, shaking my hands free of the painful tingles.

Looking up, Ushijima looks incredibly pleased with himself as his near-miss score brings his team into the playing field. Fuck you and your perfect form. I try to pointedly glare at him, but my brothers' snickering has me faltering.

“That’s what you get for admiring your opponent.” James adds getting ready for the opponent's serve.

“Well, I couldn’t help that he has the perfect form and the best hang time that I’ve ever seen.” Pouting, I wait for the boys to rotate, Ushijima ending up on my right in the middle position.

Goshiki is up for a serve.

The serve ends up going low which I presume must be the result of the foreboding pressure ahead, either way I go low. The ball just makes it over the net, striking and tripping over the white trim before dropping, luckily my foresight saves the day. The ball goes to Leo, whose jumping for a spike, rebounding it off the blockers hand, sending it back to Sam. He gives it to James, who tosses to me, but I’m off slightly or rather that toss was far too low for my liking, and my left hand is closest to the ball than my right. Kawanishi is there acting as a commit block but the space behind him is open, smiling I bring my left up for a feint, but Yamagata dives for a flying receive. Fuck, the ball goes up again and there is a very high probability that it would go to the ace, but then again, he could be a decoy.

Which is never, but never say never.

The front line of Ushijima’s team houses Kawanishi, himself and Shirabu while Yamagata hides behind Ushijima and Goshiki meekly exists behind Shirabu leaving Ohira behind Kawanishi and the substitute middle blocker Tendou, standing out ready to switch at any moment.

I watched closely for Ohira’s next move, he forwards onto Ushijima as he gets ready for a spike, but then Goshiki runs up and jumps for a pipe shot. I dive for the latter, moving away as Shirabu tries and fails to fake me out, he really needs to school his face if he wants that to work. He sends it backwards, and I do what I must to receive it well as a chance ball. James sets but me and Leo both jump vying for the ball's attention, Kawanishi continues to commit block whilst Shirabu chooses Leo for safety, and no one expects the pipe from my dad.

The score now settles at six-one, to my team.

They’re fighting better than expected.

Finally, on the third rotation, my turn to serve arises and as much as I love spiking, serving the ball is where it gets my blood pumping. Crushing my opponent's hopes and dreams into oblivion is my bread and butter. Bouncing the ball a few times as I get a feel for the way of the land. This isn’t like practice, and being a little rusty on my gameplay has me second guessing my abilities.

In front, the court is open and Ushijima’s team steps backwards, reeling from their traumatic past and for once acknowledging my strength on the court. I proudly take their fear into consideration as I wind up my arm then flick my wrist, giving the ball that extra push. The ball shoots into the far inner corner, jumping for joy, as one percent of me expected the ball to spin out of bounds.

The boys stay seated as I take my second serve, now they’re in for a treat.

“Give them your famous drop-dead serves, sweetie.” Dad suggests, offering me a supportive smile.

I do my normal rounds of getting ready for my normal to-go jump serve that they’ve already experienced before. I throw the ball up, take a breath and jump with my arm straightening as my hand connects to the ball. A jump float, not my speciality per se but just as lethal, nonetheless. The ball makes it over the net and begins to dive downwards, three players dive to save the day but at the last moment, the ball lifts and smashes into the unprotected corner, hitting the line.

My grin is evil and sweet when they clamber amongst themselves looking up at me.

“That wasn’t very nice, how nasty. You can do more than one serve? You’re so scary, Y/n-chan.” Tendou whines lifting himself off the floor, I shrug in dismissal.

Ushijima doesn’t look at all happy with his team’s fuck-up and my unexpected move. Fine, if you want to play with me, you should’ve just asked.

I go back to doing my supersonic serve again. This time breathing in and only exhaling out once I make contact with the ball, it goes directly towards the captain and smacking onto his left shoulder sending him into a tumble. The ball ricochets off the floor before the libero could even react.

“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK! Dipshit, why the hell did you do the avalanche.” Andrew tries to smack the back of my head, but with him now in front of me makes his advances easy to avoid.

Dad silences the both of us with a grim look.

The other team watches on, uncaring of our antics, but seemingly remains starstruck at my sudden ferocity. Even the coaches slowly pick up their jaws and screw them back into place as they finally regard me as a worthy player and even valuable manager.

The ball is thrown back to me as I think about my next moves. When I do eventually serve, I decide it’s high time I use my trump card and use my left hand. I’m naturally a right-handed person, but for many years growing up and watching my family train their weaknesses out of their systems, it soon became a habit to work on my left-side just as much as my right. Funnily enough, I am more powerful on my left for my spiking than my right, so once the ball connects, it barely grazes the ace's face and lands behind him.

I watch the shudder run its course as his head whips around, finding the culprit rolling away.

The team begin to catch on that I am fucking with him. I’m about to return to my serve until Coach Washijo calls for a time-out, the first one of this set. This is going better than expected, and I know it is disrespectful, but I can’t help but skip towards the benches and wipe the mist of sweat off my face.

“What the hell, Y/n? You only use the avalanche when it’s at match point or when we absolutely need it.” James scolds me whilst the others busy themselves with hydration.

Andrew seconds him on that front.

“Oh, I just wanted to fuck with the captain, his receives are fucking shit, and he’s probably the only one that can stay standing from my serves.” I put my bottle down and sling the towel over my neck.

Covertly glancing over to Coach Washijo giving the team his oh-so-inspiring pep talk. His voice is low from this distance, but his vigorous lip movements tell me everything that I can’t hear.

Those poor boys.

“They’re going to try shutting me down with more commit blocks and try to decrease my opportunity in mid-air combat. They’re also going to keep an eye out for any other opportunities.” I say while reading his lips, turning around to my team that are amazed at my lip-reading abilities.

I’m nosy by nature.

“Oh, I nearly forgot, but are you and Darren still a thing?” James slides in besides me, chiming in with the most horrendous news to date.

I got to give it to him, his timing couldn’t have come at a shittier time than now. What the actual fuck, Darren’s still chatting shit about us, it’s been months man give the fuck-up already. It’s fucking pathetic.

Shaking my head, James is unaware of the utter carnage wreaking havoc in my mind. He takes out his phone and shows me his latest post. Darren has posted an old photo of me and him from last year, but he’s edited the timestamp to a couple of weeks ago, with the caption saying, ‘missing my bae’.

I nearly smash James’s phone against the wall and break the screen under my foot.

“WHAT THE FUCK!” The fury in my words barely scratch the surface.

My trembling hands shake in tempered anger as I try to school myself and remember that I’m in public with my family and school team nearby. My breathing becomes laboured as my beating heart doubles in acceleration to contend with my rampant emotions.

Curious eyes bore into me and despite knowing their innocence, my glare towards them is venomous in spooking them off my case. The team flinches, diverting their gazes elsewhere, but of course, Ushijima stays steadfast in his captain's responsibilities and concern. Tendou is the only one that finds amusement in my seething state of unrest, and it wouldn’t be right if I didn’t discipline him appropriately for it.

The impromptu timeout rattles by, as does my state of mind to stay courteous. Between my palms, the volleyball easily glides through my circular-swirling hands, I bounce the ball twice before inhaling the plastic smell and aligning myself back into the game. The whistle blows and I jump, serving the ball high, where my left palm smacks cleanly and efficiently into the descending ball. Ushijima prepares himself, foolishly mistaking the ball's destination, the team follow suit, unknowingly leaving Tendou unprotected. The ball careens into his chest, striking him with so much force that he doubles over, knocking down to the lacquered floor.

The whistle blows again, pausing the game as Coach Saito rushes towards Tendou, medical kit in hand. He wheezes, raising his head undeterred as he continues to softly rub his chest. This is what happens when you’re not expecting a receive and mindlessly following your captain’s response, this is not at all related to his mockery from earlier.

“Sorry, I used too much strength.” My innocent smile is as fishy as the sushi I had for lunch.

Shirabu glares knowingly between the debacle, whilst Ushijima’s stone face tracks my every movement. Despite appearing fine, Tendou coughs and grunts to his feet, Coach Saito immediately subs him out for Kawanishi.

“Was that because of Darren?” James asks his ludicrous question, on my left.

Leo sighs further down the court.

“I thought I told you not to tell her.” His crestfallen face hangs low, shaking his head.

“Someone needs to have a backbone in this family.” James says, squaring his shoulders and puffing out his chest.

“I can’t believe we’re related.” Andrew mutters, in front of me.

I karate chop into James’s side.

“Do that again, and I’ll chop off your balls.” Using the scissoring gesture with my fingers to further prove my point.

He yelps.

On the other side of the court, Ushijima’s energy spikes as his glare pointedly strikes a fire in my furnace, oh boy, here we go. In one round, my serves are stopped by Ushijima taking the brunt of it and barrelling the ball through my brother's arms. However, the first set lands in our favour but in the nick of our skin loses the second set, meaning now we’ve rolled onto the third and final set of the day.

Exhaustion never tastes sweet, but this match has surely shown our highs and lows in a span of an hour. I haven’t spiked as much as I wanted to, which leaves my hands feeling itchy and unsatisfied. This current rotation has me back to being outside hitter, James as setter but dad playing as opposite hitter. Andrew sticks to his position behind me, Leo behind James and Sam behind dad, our right side being heavily secured and in lock down, which leaves the centre and the left side to the offensive players.

The long rally has yet to decide the winner of today’s match, with just two more points to go.

The ball comes over as a chance ball, I give James the look, and he knows that I want it, he tosses it to me, but it’s low, and it’s nothing that I haven’t been dealt with before. Normally, I wouldn’t go for it with the ball being so close to the net, but the risk is too great, and I go for it anyway. Jumping high Kawanishi follows blocking a cross shot which I was infuriatingly thinking of accomplishing, no fret, I still have another weapon left in my arsenal. Changing positions in mid-air is not as easy as theory makes it out to be, but I manage. Making direct eye contact with Ushijima straight ahead of me, his eyes widen as I do the cleanness cut shot that I can muster. The ball travels between Kawanishi and the net to smack on the ground on their side of the court.

“Better?” James gauges my reaction, fishing for compliments, but I shut him down faster than Lightning McQueen.

“Fuck no, that was the shittiest toss I’ve ever been dealt. Too low and close to the net, and you’re the professional here. Do better.” James’s head looks as if he’s about to explode as his superior complex gets fucked.

“Why you little-”

Dad places both of his hands onto our shoulders, causing us to yelp, slowly turning to him.

“Kill each other later. James you’re now the libero, Sam you’re a wing spiker, and you are now the setter.” Dad perfectly announces in Japanese, earning the interest of everyone in the room.

A collective groan breaks out between me and my brothers. Changing positions is a nightmare, especially when I’ve been handed the short end of the stick. Well, Sam is surely better and more good-looking than my brother, so having him at my side is always a win. Leo and Andrew watched on behind us, snickering under their breaths, afraid dad with switch them around as well.

“You, play setter?” Shirabu accuses, disgusted, he looks me up and down.

Too exhausted to talk smack, I barely register him at all with a returning nod. 

Being the setter isn’t the worse role on the court, but it’s certainly not my favourite to play. James mopes in the back row libero position as an idea forms nastily inside my mind as we both make eye contact, similarly thinking on the same frequency. The others ignore our childishness, already knowing that we’re up to no good, as the mastermind of the show stays oddly quiet in front of James.

“Right, let’s get this show on the road, shall we.” Rolling my neck, sighing.

Ushijima looks clueless to our antics, good.

Andrew gives us a normal jump serve, nothing fancy to displace what me and James have brewing. Yamagata easily digs the ball up sending to their ace, who looks to be losing speed, stamina, and strength, but he still manages to break through dad and Sam's double block. Andrew dives, receiving the ball with a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. James springs into the air, making sure he jumps before the line, changing his swing into a high set, finally a good one. He always holds out to the last minute. Leaping into the air, I feel the stretch of my muscles aching throughout my body as I give everything I have into my left palm. The blockers barely missed the ball by a fraction of a millisecond, securing us the final point and winning the game.

We all collapse when the whistle blows.

My family has long since left, leaving me still in my kit as I help clean up with the others. This is where the questions begin to roll in. Tendou and Goshiki ask the obvious and, being too tired to bat them away, I answer.

“No, I got bored one day and decided to play volleyball for the fun of it. I don’t know why I’m a national league player nor being scouted for the ‘All Japan national youth team’ for the under twenty-ones, but hay-ho.” Shrugging so nonchalantly, I miss the way they all look at me.

Perplexed and smiling like fools.

I stare at them, and they stare at me, and no one says anything. They don’t think I’m being serious, do they.

“Yes, I’m a player.” I sweat a drop, concerned about their idiocy.

“But you’re not a part of the girls' volleyball club.” Ushijima states, harbouring some pent-up negativity towards me.

“I am, but just not here. I play for a team in America. Which, now that I think about it, the season will be starting soon.” Rubbing my shoulder as an ache begins to paralyse through me.

“Don’t they mind that you’re not in the country?” Semi mentions the very perplexing question drawing on everybody’s mind.

“Not really, as long as I continue with practice and communicate with my coaches now and then. I can still place for the official line-up and seeing how I technically don’t have to go to school I should in theory have the time to catch up.”  I say whilst placing the clean volleyball into the basket.

“Then why are you here?” Ushijima asks, surprising everyone with how engaged he is with the conversation.

“Legacy, I suppose. My family played for this school, and I didn’t want to miss out. Also, the technicality of being too young for university, so it was either wait for a year in practice or attend high school.” I decided to withhold my other depraved response about high school boys being yummier over here than back in America.

Winking, a short pause ensues before another barrage of questions follows.

“Why did you shout during the first timeout?” Goshiki beams.

Before you can answer him, another one chimes in from all of them.

“What were you all speaking about before the game?” My hesitation has them ecstatically, hanging on to my every breath.

Sighing, I drop, crossing my legs, and everyone else forms a makeshift circle around me. They take one of the clean balls and begin peppering them back and forth with one another.

“James revealed to me that Darren, my ex-boyfriend, has been using my family name to gloat for attention.” The boys' gasps echo in the semi-empty gym.

I’m unable not to watch Ushijima’s facial expressions, which are between micro and non-existent.

“A couple of months ago he cheated on me with some chick at school, I ended things the moment I found out. Ever since then he’s tried everything to get me back, he’s always had a wandering eye which I should’ve nipped in the bud sooner rather than later.” Sighing again as the unwanted memories flood in.

“I don’t even know why I dated him, he’s fucking rubbish.” The ball passes to me and without changing where I’m looking, I pass the ball to Tendou.

“I’m sorry that I lashed out, Satori.” Smiling kindly at him, fully aware of the wave that I just made.

Tendou blooms pink, bleeding out one of his nostrils.

“That’s fine, Y/n-chan.” He stutters, looking away.

Stifling my laughter behind my hand.

“Sorry, I couldn’t help it. But do call me by my first name, it’s really charring to hear you all refer to me as my family name.” When they still didn’t budge, I add.

“For cultural reasons.” This seems to settle nicely with their morals.

Semi being the first one to perk up out of embarrassment.

“Okay… Y/n-san.” He hesitates, turning pink.

Clicking my tongue, this is the best it’s ever going to get, I suppose.

“Oh yeah, about the other thing, they just asked me about who’s my favourite player.” Springing up as the ball lands back into my hands and placing it under my armpit.

“Wait, who’s your favourite player?” Tendou turns, everyone waiting on my obvious reply.

I don’t answer, but I do wink and blow a kiss towards Ushijima who appears to be worlds away.

Chapter Text

My body hurts.

I played for two hours yesterday, and this is the result I’m left in. If this isn’t a reality check, then I don’t know what is. I’ve been slacking. With some great effort, I manage to roll myself out of bed and get myself ready for the day, with my brothers' arrival, I suspect mum wants me home before lunchtime. Today, would have been slotted in for practice. However, after the state that yesterday’s practice left everyone in, Coach Washijo took in our best interests to take the day off.

Which is unexpectedly kind of him, but I suspect that tomorrow’s drills will be hell.

Making my way over to the car park which thankfully now houses my car, which arrived alongside my dad. Unfortunately, with the state of affairs in my parents' marriage, dad has taken a swift exit to Sendai, where the rest of the Phantoms are holding up. I can’t say I blame him after living with mum for a year prior to our move to Japan. She is a tough woman to be around but also lonely, and I imagine being home is just what she needs right now.

Lost in thought, I don’t notice the four familiar faces rounding the corner until I’m face planting right into their sculptured, and scrumptious bodies. Tendou, Semi, Ohira and Ushijima are all kitted out in casual wear and appear to be heading out as well. Staring openly at them surprised mostly that Ushijima even owns casual clothes and not straight up athletic wear, but it sure as hell looks good on him.

On all of them.

Looking them up and down to savour this moment for the rest of the ages. I already have a glimmer of what’s underneath, as this could almost be comparable to men in suits. A fresh look certainly widens the horizon.

“Looking good, boys.” Nodding at all of them, unable to help myself.

They all stiffly exchange looks amongst themselves.

“Heading out, Y/n-chan?” Tendou breaks the ice first, his eyes slithering down to the keys dangling from my hooked finger.

They jingle when I first them, the soothing contours from the key and keyrings firmly slot into my palm.

“Yep, going home for the day.” Smiling, I walk alongside them as we all head outside towards the car park.

“What are you guys up to?” I ask, curiously.

“Shopping.” Tendou answers enthusiastically.

Semi rolls his eyes, whilst Ohira stays stone faced alongside Ushijima.

“Anything in particular?” My question immediately gets an instance response.

“The new shōnen jump came out and as you know I’ve been trying to get this one into one of the stories.” Tendou lumps his thumb over to Ushijima who recoils backwards.

His expression unreadable despite his eyes boring deeply into my soul.

“Really? It’s out.” Exclaiming loudly that, the others jolt away.

“You read it?” Tendou gapes, anxiously waiting for my reply.

“Yeah.” I add dumbly with a little sass.

“I knew you were my saving grace.” He weeps at my feet; he clutches my hands together whilst his hunching form towers over me.

The others seemingly speed walk away from us two fangirls.

That is until Semi whistles once we all come to stop around my car, a fiat 500, she’s a small beauty and nothing like my brother's monster trucks back home. Not a literal monster truck, but cars over there are huge and well, I’m a European at heart.

“Nice wheels.” Ohira comments, offering me a half smile.

“Thank you.” Pivoting on my heels to face them head on.

“She arrived yesterday. Hopefully, I don’t die getting to my mum’s.” I joke lightly.

“If you drive safely and know the highway code, you will not perish on these roads.” Ushijima factually states, his stare hard and brows furrowed.

Semi, Ohira and I regard him suspiciously, not in the way to think he has ulterior motives but notifying his odd behaviour for another day.

“Yep, that’s the plan.” My hesitancy doesn’t waver away his strange behaviour.

But then again, Ushijima is a concussion away from normalcy.

“Well, I guess I’ll see you all tomorrow. Have fun.” Waving them off until their retreating forms disappear around the gate.

The drive isn’t that long from school and being a Sunday, it helps that the traffic is non-existent. Driving up along a friendly suburban neighbourhood before pulling into a slender building that has the feelings of both nostalgia and modern architecture. I knock on the door only to be grabbed and brought into the house by three overgrown children that squeeze and lift me off my feet. My brothers bring me into the lounge, where my mum is in the open-plan kitchen making lunch. My stomach automatically growls from missing her home cooking.

“Y/n, you’re here, we missed you so much.” James adds in Japanese.

Unlike dad, mum has the Japanese only rule in her house. It’s one of many reasons behind their separation. Pushing myself off him and grimacing at their overly affectionate, uncharacteristic behaviour.

“I saw you yesterday.” I retort, heading towards the kitchen.

“But that’s different.” They all whine, sitting at the counter of the island in the kitchen.

Rounding up behind my mum, hugging her from behind. She relaxes under me, smiling warmly as I look down at her, it’s only been a couple of weeks, and she seems to have shrunk even more. Looking over her, she’s making onigiri with tuna and others chicken and vegetables. I can’t help but smile at the wonderful sight. I take my seat at the counter when she brings the food out, we all wolf down most of the food in minutes, athletes what can I say, we’re animals at heart. Luckily, mum has got used to our gluttony behaviour and loads out the second batch.

She takes a seat and begins to ask about school.

“It’s going good, I dealt with a bullying situation in which I got the girls involved expelled, and then I joined the boys’ volleyball club as the manager.” She looks at me, nodding and smiles that I’m not hurt or whatever.

“Any boy that I should know about?” she asks unexpectedly causing me to stop and cough.

Everyone stops as well, waiting for my answer, but I hesitate, leaving an opening for James to take.

“Yeah, there is one, but I think that she just realised today how she really feels about him.” Is this bitch a mind reader or what, I glance at him, to which the bitch gives me a thumbs up.

I look sheepishly at mum, who is now giving me a wry smile.

“Must be a special boy then, what’s his name? Is he in your club?” Here we go people, the motherly interrogation has begun and just like before they all butt in before me.

“Oh, you’ll like him mum, he’s in the boys’ volleyball team, and he’s the captain.” Leo goes in for another tuna onigiri.

“His name is Ushijima Wakatoshi.” Andrew says while stuffing his mouth full of rice.

I just side glance them all, pouting that I didn’t even get my chance to talk. Mum just nods at all of us, she then turns to me, finally and frankly.

“Do you think that he’ll treat you better than Darren did?” I nod at her while gradually disappearing under the table.

“I hate you three.” I mumble, James just looks at me before nudging me off my seat.

I end up face planting the floor.

Lunch was spent with me trying to kill him while my other two brothers sits and taped the whole thing. Mum also enjoying herself.

Now outside where a mini court has been set up for me and my brothers to play a small game of peppering the ball to one another, and bantering.

“Isn’t the inter-high prelims coming up?” Andrew asks while bumping the ball to me.

I bump it to James who wasn’t expecting it, and so, it smacks him in the face.

“Yup, it’s next week, actually. You should come and support us.” I answer, hoping that some familial support will be thrown my way.

James finally gets up before he is hit yet again by Leo, taking advantage of the opportunity presented to him.

“Only if you make it to the final round, then we’ll show up.” Andrew smugly answers, his ego steepening to no end.

Pouting at his statement and my brother's little faith in my team only further boosts my confidence in them all. They’re all making steady progress and with preliminaries around the corner, I can say with the up-most confidence that we’ve got this shit in the bag.

“Then I guess I’ll be seeing you.” He laughs away at my possible foolish and blinded confidence.

Bumping the ball to him, I watch in delight as he powerfully spikes the ball into James’s face. We all burst out into a fit of laughter as James now star fishes on the ground, defeated.

“I hate you.” He angrily mumbles, turning away from us all.

Chapter Text

The bustling crowds of chattering students, volleyball players and the public cast in waves of floating packs flutter around the hallway. Teams that I have never seen or heard about banter with one another and support overly anxious first years debuting in their matches. All around me tall, lanky, and broad-shouldered boys swaddle the corners, sheepishly hide behind plants and seek comfort in the restrooms yet not one of them resembles Ushijima.

I should’ve known he would do this; he is known for his Houdini acts at school but to do it today of all days really does test my patience with him. Heading into the lobby I come across two familiar faces and a large cumbersome dick for brains, Oikawa and Iwaizumi as well as Ushijima. His back turned to me; I slow my advances when I notice the sneer dripping from the two boys faces as they seem to be having an unpleasant showdown with the oblivious captain. If he is aware of their unsatisfactory behaviour, he makes no comment about it as his nonchalant words begin to become clearer the closer I get, inching forwards.

“Only one team can go to nationals.” Ushijima answers plainly with minimal condescension but from the appearance of the boys faces I suspect they’re interpretation is much darker.

Stepping out of the dark, shadowy hallway as I come into the fresh light of the lobby just catching the start of Oikawa’s upheaval against Ushijima.

“The confidence on you-” Iwaizumi nudges Oikawa silent as I come into the fold.

Oikawa’s entire demeanour changes in a blink of eye that is of course until he recognises my jersey and well me. His smile drops and one could say that this personality shift reveals his true nature.

“Why hello boys, it’s great to see that you’ve all managed to make it.” I say glancing between the two, my eyes catching sternly onto Ushijima.

His gaze stays transfixed ahead of him.

“I remember you, are you his girlfriend I can’t imagine anyone wanting to voluntarily suffer in his presence.” Oikawa adds rather nastily.

Gaping internally as I try to remain level-headed and not puncture too many manners and culture shocks with my next statement.

“He’s rather enjoyable to be around, whereas much could be said about you, a slithering two-faced snake.” Quirking my eyebrows upwards as I gesture for Ushijima to step away with me.

Iwaizumi does little to conceal his appreciative smirk whereas Oikawa gapes, stuttering backwards.

“What? Cat got your tongue.” Slowly making a show of him as I drag my gaze up and down his admirable physique.

“I’m disappointed I thought that there was more to the great king. Turns out you’re just a story you tell yourself to help you sleep better at night, the reality is that you’re nothing if not your track record would be more inspiring to the masses.” My words are acid and I pour them well over his festering wounds.

Burn bitch, burn.

His eyes turn glassy, but the fists at his sides turn white.

Oh, is he going to pop, this should be interesting.

“Let’s go, the team is waiting.” I say drawing back the venom for another day.

I’m sure the opportunity will present itself again in the future.

Oikawa and Iwaizumi are left stunned as I turn and manoeuvre Ushijima back down the hallway I came. He’s reluctant at first but finally acknowledges my existence and turns.

“We’ll be going to nationals this year.” Oikawa shouts desperately behind us.

I give him nothing, not an ounce of my reaction nor Ushijima’s. Further down the hallway Ushijima starts.

“One day your insincere words will bite back.” His deep voice does little to hide his provocation.

Rounding the corner towards the gym where the team awaits our arrival. I begin my onslaught.

“And your oblivious frankness is what, kindness?” Stopping outside the closed doors, the sound of the bustling crowds within squeeze between the gaps.

He turns to face me, his gaze stony and unreadable like always.

“Why must my reaction be tapered but yours left free?” I question aloud.

Anger bubbles but not as vibrantly as the stirring pot readying to pour forth out of Ushijima’s lips, that is, if he can make any sense of them. His face scrunches into folds that make him appear older and angrier, whilst the pouty frown forever makes him resemble a petulant child.

“That is not the same.” He finally adds, pivoting and opening the door before I could reply.

What a prick.

Of course, it is the same and his perspective is highly skewered by whoever pampered his childhood and failed to teach him the importance of wording and tones. I was mean, but I had to be when I sensed the snaky vibes in Oikawa appear just as viciously as they do me. Whereas recently, my crude words have taken a back burner in the last couple of days, which doesn’t overshadow the fact that me and him aren’t so different.

He also can be crude, frank and rather mean with more than just words but his lack of reaction and insincere behaviour. He might not put on a show like Oikawa, but he doesn’t even try to sugar coat his interactions at all, leaving many people with a bitter aftertaste. At the end of the day, we are complex humans and two very different people who are starting to be at odds with one another. I blame proximity of my own making, and he probably has no concern over the matter, he is obedient to himself and to others, but his own sincerity is lacking alongside his empathy.

My initial feelings were misplaced, and I shouldn’t have got ahead of myself so eagerly.

The game finishes in our favour, the team mopping the floor with our opponent. Right now, we are the team to beat, and I notice that whilst we’re making good time, I decide to be my own hypocrite and take a gander around the gymnasium. The coach knows, of course, unlike a certain someone that doesn’t bother to alert his best friend about his antics.

Trying to decipher the chaos wreaking havoc in my mind, I find myself in a separate gym, where another match is currently in session. Following up the stairwell, I find myself in the bleachers overlooking the rowdy game between green and black. The crowd to my right is an anthem of students riding on the high of the game and rapping the same several words over and over again.

“LET’S GO! DATEKO! GO, GO DATEKO! HERE WE GO!” They clang their plastic speakers together, creating a further disturbance to the game below.

The black team resemble oppressive crows, scavenging at any chance that they can get, flocking together and sprinting ahead when a crack forms in the iron wall. Whilst I have heard of them, the team below snatches my interest even more. Dateko does everything in their power to snuff out the orange light that’s currently darting across the court like a fish dodging hungry mouths.

It's impressive. The speed, stamina, and strength to keep going the way he does and still he has more to give. If he stood still long enough, I would be able to read his number, but he never does only until he takes his position back on the net, do I notice two things about him: (A) he’s very short and (B) that he’s also a middle blocker. Whilst typically those two things aren’t synonymous with the other, I can’t help but think how well this oddity works. Especially against teams that have no idea how to challenge such a player. He puts twice the amount of effort into just trying to reach over the net, and here he is blinking into the air with the speed and accuracy of a seasoned player.

This ability can’t be taught, this is him. True raw potential blinking, darting and jumping before my very eyes. Fucking hell, he’s a monster. Laughter bubbles out of me as I lean over the barrier, absorbing as much as I possibly can until I see a move that can’t be humanly possible. He’s in the air before the ball leaves the setters fingers, he’s swinging mindlessly as the wall closes in on the horizon, and yet he punches through with his eyes closed.

Bystanders all around me go crazy.

“What the fuck.” My words are breathless as I watch him do it again.

The coaches behind me read up on their pamphlets, revealing this mystery team’s name as Karasuno; their nameless number ten wipes the sweat off his brow and cheers amongst his peers as they realise, they have won the match. It’s certainly a team that I will continue to look out for in the foreseeable future.

As I’m turning out of the gym, I feel my jersey pocket vibrate, it’s Ushijima and coach. The text from Ushijima is alerting me that the bus is leaving soon, and that Coach Washijo will leave without me if I don’t arrive in the next ten minutes. Coach Washijo has tried calling me in the last three minutes ten times. To say that I ran like Usain Bolt to get to the bus would be correct. Breathless, sweaty and achy, I board the bus just in, making sure to apologise to the coaches along the way as I find my seat down the corridor.

Everyone asks me about my whereabouts except Ushijima who like always doesn’t acknowledge me.

“I’ve just witnessed a monster in the making.” I confess slouching in my chair.

Slowly nodding off, I don’t forget to send a quick thank you to Ushijima for the heads-up. I try not to forget about his comment from before so easily, as this kindness is placed in the same instance as an authoritative figure being responsible for his employees' wellbeing. But the sentiment does help warm me to sleep.

The next day we continue to smash it out of the park in our last three games. Now we watch the last match of the day which decides who our opponent will be for tomorrow. It’s Karasuno and my cheer instantly picks up, the others notice but refuse to comment as the crowd goes shit crazy for the approaching team.

The obnoxious cheer immediately puts me back into a slump.

“Who’s playing?” I ask, barely hearing myself speak over the racket.

I try to distance myself from the noise by heading over towards the railing instead, the noise doesn’t lessen.

“Aoba johsai versus Karasuno. Some washed out team has made it this far into the season.” Umeda snickers amongst the first years.

Rolling my eyes at their immaturity, I glance down and almost fall head first into the court. Of course, Aoba johsai’s captain has to be none other than Oikawa, it would make sense for his incessant one-sided rivalry with Ushijima clearer. Whilst this bothersome new piece of information doesn’t appear to bode well for Karasuno it sure as shit tears me apart.

I want to see him crumble, but first I need to see how he plays.

“No matter we’ll be facing Aoba johsai tomorrow, we always do.” Soekawa admits, resigning into his seat beside Ushijima who looks profoundly bored.

Turning back to my view of the court I watch with great interest as number ten takes his position up front whilst Oikawa and Iwaizumi stand adjacently opposite him.

“And we always win.” Tendou cheers higher up in the bleachers.

With that titbit in mind, I unlike many others watch this match with bated breath whilst they too mistake the short player as a fool. It feels almost like I’m in on a joke, one that I can’t wait to blow up in Oikawa’s and eventually Ushijima’s arrogant face.

The game begins with Karasuno’s number eleven serving and Aoba Johsai’s number thirteen who easily receives the ball. Oikawa and his number two run on the offensive and I wouldn’t put it past him to make the first spike of the set, his pride wouldn’t allow it otherwise. Following my expectations Oikawa makes a direct beeline for Karasuno’s number ten by a brazen setter dump skirting over his head.

Now that is bold and fierce; my team remain seated.

Karasuno’s setter is quick to make a comeback with a freak quick attack that is easily dug up by their number three. I was wrong, Oikawa knows exactly who he’s dealing with, no matter I’m sure Karasuno have more up their sleeve. Oikawa jumps for another setter dump, but even I know that it’s a fake out as he brings his second hand up, switching tactics mid-air and sets to Iwaizumi instead. It is only when Karasuno’s setter matches Oikawa in his sneakiness does the game begin to unfold into a savage party.

Unfortunately, the first set Aoba johsai wins but Karasuno claws back the second set and now in the third and final set the two teams are at match point. My team has long since dispersed into their downtime, whereas I remain rooted on my toes.

With everyone running ragged this late in the game Oikawa only has one of two options, call upon Iwaizumi, his handy second or number thirteen, the slacker. My vote is for the latter, he hasn’t been performing as much as the others as I suspect he has half a tank left in reserve. The set goes to him, Karasuno are lead on and tricked by Iwaizumi’s valiant effort leaves a large opening for their slacker to score.

Aoba johsai ranks up another point leaving the score at 32:31.

But as great as Karasuno is, Aoba johsai have years of experience and a hunger far greater than the light that shines amongst them. The short ginger runs up mindlessly spiking unaware of Oikawa’s schemes and his prepared blockers shutting him down as he lands too late to realise his mistake.

A sword that dulls too quickly is of no use to a team of wingless crows squawking for flight. Tendou and the others were right, we will be seeing Aoba johsai tomorrow, it’s a shame that it won’t be the underdogs, but I suspect they will return with vengeance in the Spring high tournament.

“I’ll be waiting, shorty.” I say sombrely, under my breath.

Turning to find Shirabu waiting at the end of the bleachers, flashcards in hand. Colour me surprised, as I suspected everyone had left in drips and drabs over the course of the first set, bored by what they were watching. He notices my arrival and retracts his revision back into his bag.

“Who won?” He asks baselessly, assuming that the victor was not already guaranteed from the beginning.

Despite being a second year, he seems to hold some leniency with the outcome of matches. He’s not his peers who assume that tomorrow will be the same as always. Staying stagnant in the face of adversity is disadvantageous to refining skills and creating new ones along the way.

“Aoba johsai.” My solemnly state for once perks his interest.

“They were the clear winner from the start.” He adds, feigning his interest.

He stayed because he was curious, underdogs are so easy to root for, even if that means staying behind in the guise of studying for the upcoming exams.

“I think we’ll be seeing more of Karasuno in the future.” I say, hopeful.

For they have come so far and for the future remains uncertain in these shifting tides, I do hope for the day when Shiratorizawa faces off against them. Hopefully in my time.

Making our way to the bus, me and Shirabu part ways in the corridor as I open my tablet to one of my pre-downloaded Aoba johsai matches. Coach Washijo thought it best I catch up on the schools that show the most promise in the prefecture, as well as schools that we’ll encounter at Nationals.

“Eh, oh please, not you too.” Tendou’s muffled whining shakes my chair.

Pulling my earbud out, I find the bugger grimacing over my shoulder.

“What?”

“Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love.” He drawls the word too far until it breaks away into nonsense.

It takes me a hot minute to understand what he’s on about.

“Hardly,” I scoff away the prying eyes.

“He’s a wolf in sheep’s clothing and,” Turning to face everyone, my eyes catching Ushijima’s.

“Ugly. I’m watching his games to get a better sense of his game play and to find any weaknesses that we could exploit.” My truth sparks an explosive response.

The boys gape, shaking in their seats as they jump forwards to inspect me like I’ve grown a second head.

“The Oikawa Toru is ugly?” Tendou dramatically pleads with the sky.

“I’ve never heard any girl call him that.” Yamagata laughs boisterously, cuffing Ohira’s arm.

“We’re not all the same, I have standards.” My answers taste bitter in response, thinking back to my previous mistake.

Ushijima is nothing more than a fleeting attraction, and he solidifies that with his next unexpected words.

“Oikawa should’ve joined Shiratorizawa, that way his talents wouldn’t have been wasted. He could’ve drawn out the best in us.” Ushijima stabs into the conversation.

My brows scrunch at his cutting meaning striking deep into the heart of the team, Semi and Shirabu blink away the shards in their eyes.

“Oikawa made his bed at Aoba johsai, it is up to us to show him that he is wrong, and his pride is his greatest downfall.” I say carefully, glaring between the seats as I meet Ushijima’s cold and blank stare.

He turns away, done with this conversation, ending it in its entirety.

The finals are today, and I guess there’s no point in trying to track Ushijima down when his rival is standing right before him. Sitting with the coaches, Coach Washijo tenses his shoulders as his deep-set frown remains unmoving. The team will pull through, as much as Ushijima seems keen on dismantling it from the inside.

All I can do is take note of any weaknesses that are shown both in my team and Oikawa’s and have faith that they can do this without scrapping each other’s faces off first. The captains go up for a handshake; sitting closest to the referees, I accidentally overhear their exchange. 

“This is going to be the day that I humiliate you once and for all, are you ready, big guy?” Oikawa hides his sneer into a sickening smile as the cameras are one click away from revealing his true identity.

Ushijima looks unfazed by the comment.

“I’d rather you drop the nicknames, Oikawa.” He coldly replies, walking past me.

His thighs ripple from the active motion and a tingle is set off in me as I try to drag my gaze away from his yummy thighs and upwards, landing onto his sculptured forearms. A distraction, he is a distraction and a fleeting moment once he opens his mouth. His cool gaze slides over to us or rather Coach Washijo who nods approvingly at him, possibly for keeping a level-head.

The match begins with Ushijima’s opening serve and wow, he certainly has improved; the opposing team struggles and fails to receive. Oikawa pulls out every trick under his sleeve, desperation clinging to wild eyes that tick with schemes that are rather futile in our well-oiled machine. They’re unable to keep up with the boys' onslaught of attacks and defences, with Ushijima’s power alone carrying the majority of points scored.

I see why the team uses him like this, but narrowly relying on one player alone isn’t sustainable, especially when he graduates this year. Goshiki is a fine contender for the ace role, but he lacks Ushijima’s power but makes up for it with enthusiasm and grit, something Ushijima placidly acknowledges.

Oikawa struggles in his defeat, and I almost feel sorry for him as he takes his position beside his teammates, gutted that his desperation wasn’t enough. He is a remarkable player, but his emotions blind him from his true potential.

At the end of the day, Coach Washijo leads everyone astray from heading directly to Shiratorizawa and towards a small restaurant in celebration of our victory. He might be an old fart that expects nothing less of his boys, but this is good for them, a simple affirmation that their hard work is paying off.

Currently, I’m sandwiched between Ushijima and Ohira whom neither allow me the space to move. Ushijima doesn’t particularly hate my presence, or he’d certainly make his reservations known, but the peculiar seating order does get me thinking about him again. I am trying not to, but feeling his body heat encroach onto me like clingy fingers inching to sink their claws into me. He also smells divine, freshly washed, the smell of citrus and clean clothes tickles my nose and holds me in a chokehold.

I am doomed.

In front of me Tendou is also sandwiched between Semi and Yamagata, on the adjoining tables Kawanishi, Umeda, Shirabu and Yunohama sit to my right. Behind Tendou the rest of the first years cluster together in the corner whilst the coaches take the head of the table on my left closest to Ushijima.

Sizzling grilled meat cooks in the centre of each table, inspiring many hungry mouths and waiting chopsticks to dig in. Unbothered about ruining coach’s pockets, I like the rest of them, dig in to my heart’s content. Stuffing my face full of greasy, delicious meat, I make the mistake of forgetting who sits in front of me.

Tendou flashes his camera as the shutters click alerting me of his demise, glaring at him across the table I choke back the rest of my food.

“Awe, Y/n-chan, do they not feed you enough. Here, have this freshly grilled pork.” Tendou coos softly, he tries shoving a couple of pieces of tasty meat into my mouth.

I open it of course and let him feed me, his returning blush is what satisfies me.

“Of course, meat is meat, and you got to love it when someone feeds you.” Humming delightfully as more pieces drop into my waiting gob.

“Pig.” Shirabu mutters from down the table.

“Oink, oink.” I snort, wrinkling my nose up towards Shirabu’s unreceptive stare.

I only stop once I feel the vibrations of my phone, resigning into the back of my seat I pull it out to find messages from the girls back in the states and a reminder for my upcoming season. The dates are close, but I think I can make it work seeing how my studies this year is null and void by my diploma in America.

“Coach Washijo,” I call.

Everyone stops and stares at me and him, who grunts over his ramen before acknowledging my call-out.

“Before I forget, my season in America is coming up. It’ll be after nationals, but you might need to find a temporary replacement for me during those weeks that I’m gone.” I add expecting a scream but all he does is nod and return to his meal.

Wow, okay, that was easier than I expected.

“As long as you give yourself enough time to prepare and also be there for the team then I don’t mind you skipping after nationals. But I expect a trophy, or you’ll be running laps for the rest of your days.” He grunts placing the bowl down as well as his chopsticks.

Ushijima pauses and glances to me.

“You’re leaving?” His brows are notched together as a slither of genuine concern and curiosity flutter in his words.

Before I can speak however, they all chime in adding their own thoughts and opinions.

“Y/n-chan, you’re leaving us too soon. Don’t go, please stay.” Tendou makes it sound like I’m dying.

“You’ll be greatly missed.” Ohira adds, furthering Tendou’s dramatic point.

“Don’t go forgetting about us.” Semi says, hiding behind his glass of water.

“Don’t leave me with these idiots, please.” Kawanishi and Shirabu say at once.

“Enough.” I shout over them.

They all stop and turn to look my way.

“My volleyball team back in America has their season right after the Japanese nationals end, I won’t be gone forever I’ll just be gone for the rest of the month.” I look at all of them before continuing.

“Besides, I expect all of you to have grown and improved the moment that I get back. Anyway, you’ll have me before then.” I turn to the five third years and remind them of something especially important.

“Though, don’t you guys have exams coming up,” The table shudders while the rest of the team choke.

“You guys have been studying, right?” The silence is damning as coach steps up and orders his team to attention.

“If one of you fails even one subject, no one will be going to nationals. Don’t disappoint me, boys.” The table shivers.

I fear for my team that we might not actually make it to nationals.

Chapter Text

The blasphemous ever-mentioned exams drew near, and with it the toll on the seniors grew large and fierce. The first and second years have it easier than what I initially imagined yet the extremity of revision seems excessive. In the practical sense, Coach Washijo lessened the later hours, and practice fell shorter than usual. It seems that in end of all things academics takes precedence over polished careers laboured through tenacity and hard work.

Due to the aforementioned exams blinking closer by the day, my family home transformed into a place of respite from the chores of school life and clubs. Still, we could have gone without the ear-splitting headaches and early signs of carpal tunnel wreaking havoc onto our tired souls.

We rest in my room and congregate around a small wooden circular table with all of our notes covering any remnants of brown lacquer with rushed jumbled letters and ink stains and crumpled edges. The task at hand has been a challenge, but I’m not so soon to judge when I account the distant relationship between Japanese and English. How a ten-foot pole wouldn’t even attribute the radius of which the two languages reside on polar opposite ends of the other.

The challenge is, however, resides in teaching in English about English literacy and language to a bunch of only-Japanese speaking third year students that have volleyball brain rot. Well, realistically, Ohira has more understanding than anyone else does as he is like me; hafu and has been taught since birth the special bump that being bilingual offers. He and I are cut from the same cloth, and such have the privilege of studying for an additional exam, a speaking exam, unlike the other four.

But that doesn’t remove the ever-present fact that we all have to suffer the English-speaking test of converting Japanese into English, vice versa. It seems that the boys are struggling with understanding, connecting and converting the words they hear and articulate them into a sentence. You would think they have some thought of free-thinking, however, even that appears like a daunting task thrown over their heads.

Try as I might, they are just not improving.

“Am I going insane, or are half of your notes in gibberish?” Semi pushes through the tsunami of paper and taps onto a specific page of my notebook.

Ohira and I pause, Ushijima seeming unfazed and, well, Tendou and Yamagata could at least appear a little interested in the efforts I’m willingly dishing out. Turning away from them and wincing at the blinding lined paper as I recognise the fault in his question. It is not I who answers, but my companion and lifeline in this mess of idiocy and knuckleheaded athletes.

“That would be English, Eita-san.” Ohira lamely answers, his reading glasses idly sit on the hook of his nose.

Semi retreats into his corner, he averts his eyes when I look upon him.

“Eh, so that’s what the squiggly lines are.” Tendou unceremoniously announces from across the table.

A groaning sigh tumbles forth.

I actually, can’t do this anymore.

“Fuck my life.” Wincing after realising my mistake.

Even my brain is on fire that my words easily slip past the blockade and find purchase in the world. Despite all that Ushijima’s presence is an anchor that I can’t ignore, his side beside mine offers little warmth but protection and I feel enclosed because of it.

The flutters that I do feel are treacherous and shallow but the pieces of him slither underfoot and remind me of his kindness, however, blunt they are.

Stealing a glance of him, I find his posture pin-straight and his face stony as he peers over his notes with the same diligence he would have practising his spikes. Covering my slip-up, I glance to the others where Tendou and Yamagata stick their pencils between their noses and lips looking like geese with moustaches. Whilst Semi pours himself over his notes, quite literally his head hangs over his study book where his hair waterfalls around his face hiding the indescribable pain of being stupid.

I would be lying if I said that his expression was of confusion and not of misunderstanding and air between his eyes. English just isn’t his forte and I can proudly say that half of the students here just aren’t equipped with the natural ease, Ohira and I abide by. Ushijima offers no complaints and thus far has seemed to have got into a flow.

“I don’t understand.” A soft mumble stirs me out of my thoughts.

Looking to my left I find Ushijima slouching, in front of him his notepad lying unused and blank whilst his pen idly rests in his hand. There are no notes on the page nor any indication of a simple guess, but where there should be words are pen marks and doodles clipping the edges. Within his textbooks, there are outlines and highlighted circles that must be referencing something to whatever he has been doing for the last two hours.

Three hours ago, we were studying mathematics, and he seemed quite engaged with that. In class, he barely bats an eye at my existence and gets on with his work. Why did I think he would excel just as well in English as he does in maths?

I remember hearing a rumour that his dad lives in America, but I’m not sure. As fond of him as I am, we’re just not close enough to that extent that I can ask personal questions about him and his family. Sure, he’s blunt and probably wouldn’t care, but the culture here is a pressure I don’t want to be messing around with again.

“With what? Is it the understanding and converting or the mock questions?” I ask, scooting over a tad more.

He doesn’t return my look but moves his thick corded finger and taps onto the page in front of him.

“Everything.” Ushijima’s voice is deep and baritone even as he whispers.

He faces me and for a moment we’re a breath apart from touching, nose to nose. I can smell the cedar of his aftershave; the faint linger of mint on his breath and-

Tendou whistles and the moment is ruined.

As it should be. We both pull away startled. The hairs on my arms rise and I try not to shiver as I readjust myself and turn to glare squarely at the crazy redhead.

“Need a room?” Tendou suggests, smiling across from me.

My brows furrow and before I could counter Yamagata swoops in with a secondary blow.

“She’s blushing.” The others stop what they’re doing to look.

Beneath the table, my fists wring tightly against my lap, yet my slutty heart defiantly pounds against my breast. If I am blushing it is not because of embarrassment nor affection but rage. Checked as it is, throwing a fit now would just fuel their engines to start picking on me for the rest of the year.

Stifling the fire is easy but clearing the smoke is a different beast entirely.

“I am not.” I say, my voice heavy and strained.

The tension in the room doubles.

Silence tumble weeds in.

Ohira and Semi communicate in blinks and weary looks to each other as Yamagata rears back, but Tendou remains steadfast for the open challenge. A burn caresses the side of my cheek, but I do not look as I close my textbook and scoff.

“Let’s do a change of pace.” My look sears an obedience in the three of them.

Looking around my room, most of my stuff still remains in boxes since I don’t live here most days, and mum has yet to unpack the garage. What I’m looking for is somewhere – wait I remember now – clicking my pen I begin to write.

“Since you all seem to be struggling and well, to really gauge all of your levels of ability, I’ll need you all to read this line out in English.” Ripping out my page I show them all the one-lined script they need to rehearse.

The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog.

“Tendou, you start.” He pulls back and points at himself as if he’s innocent in all of this.

He smiles, challenging me. Furthermore, he’s the type to laugh in the face of authority, and poke fun at the jokers in class for trying to clown him. Sure, it hurts to be on the receiving end of a joke and to never be someone’s first choice.

Whatever I do or say to him now whilst I’m like this is futile. I could never try to one up him, but I can show him that I’m a force to be reckoned with. If he wants to play then so be it, speak with all your might, but at the end of the day it’s the hard work that he didn’t put in that will pay the price on exam day.

“The fat broom fox jumps oven a lay dog.” He says rather confidently, never removing his eyes from mine.

Cringing in pain, I glance over to Ohira who seems just adversely affected. The boys wince, and Yamagata shivers when my gaze lands onto him.

“Me? I just thought-”

“You thought what? Slacking off and joking around will get you grasping at a C, be for real.” I scoff.

Again, the burning in the side of my head brands me for my attention, but I don’t give in to temptation. Looking ahead, I bore my eyes into Yamagata who grunts, squints at the words and begins to sike himself up.

“A vast broon fox chumps uver a lacy dog.” I try to make it a show to remain stony faced and unfazed as Tendou continues to lick up my every expression.

He sure can be an asshole sometimes.

And around we went, eventually we make it back full circle, and our differences are stark with Ohira and I, having our work cut out for ourselves.

“Well, that was painful.” Some of the boys smile amongst themselves, realising that they’re not in this alone.

“I thought it was just you and Ohira-san that needed to do the speaking exam?” Semi asks, unscrewing his water bottle.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Looking down at my messy notes and then glancing at Ushijima’s empty page.

He obviously doesn’t want anyone to know that he’s struggling and outing him now would be cruel. His enunciation was decent which would align with the rumour and seeing that he comes from wealth wouldn’t hurt his second language skills, but I just can’t understand why that doesn’t compute to his studies. I guess he struggles with putting his thoughts down onto paper, but then why hasn’t he tried mind-mapping or jotting down areas he needs to work on.

Biting my lips, I turn it over in my head on what it could be. The best way to learn is in small increments and keeping him interested. The test won’t be going over volleyball rules and techniques, but if I can get him to start linking words and converting them, as well as understanding context and reading between the lines. Maybe then I could get him to learn and practice it to memory.

Taking out my flashcards, I begin to jot down volleyball references with additional texts about what we have been covering in class. Fortunately, we all cover the same text and will have the same test, as our levels just differ on our ability. Each card has a question and helpful tips, as well as useful acronyms that have a volleyball vibe to them.

In the end this may not be helpful, but as the manager of this team I can’t stand by and let the captain of the team suffer in silence.

Eventually, after another hour of silent scribbling my wrist begins to ache, and my bladder has reached its limits.

“Time.” I call, climbing up fast and out of my room before any questions could be raised.

Immediately, I am stopped on my way to the bathroom.

“Having fun?” James utters in English, breaking mums most sacramental rule.

“Go away, or I’ll piss on you.” My bladder presses dangerously against my pelvic floor as the urge to go becomes intense.

I’m not going to make it.

Side stepping my idiotic brother, I race down the hallway to the bathroom.

However, when I return, I am blessed to find James making friends with my teammates, that is if he was scooping my eyes out and feeding them to me. Standing at the foot of my door, James has his back to me, but like some sort of sibling sixth sense, he instantly stops revealing state secrets and turns to face me with a look of innocence.

“Cowbag, how was your shit?” James loudly exclaims.

Semi, Yamagata and Tendou spit out laughing.

“It was great. I feel much better now that Jack has a friend.” I say smugly.

James scowls before his face morphs before my very eyes into that of horror and disgust then into a smile, scoffing incredulously at my remark. For a moment there he actually thought I was serious, what a moron.

The other's blank faces and wondering looks garner neither of our attention as we continue to stare each other down. Neither of us break, we aren’t chicken shit, and we’re two stubborn fuckers that don’t compute easy as part of our hardwiring.

Eventually, he gives in, claiming that something got into his eye before turning away to glare at his phone.

“What?” I ask, looking around the room at all the shocked faces.

Turning to my brother for any clues or merely asking the perpetrator on why my teammates now look at me like I have a second head when I’m stopped by a more pressing matter.

“James, what the fuck is that?”

He tries shutting his phone off and hiding away the evidence but looming over his shoulder and having a clear view of his phone screen wasn’t in the cards for him successfully getting away with this.

“James.” I say again, looking at him incredulously.

This time, when he turns to face me, his guilt is clearly etched onto his face.

“You saw?”

“Darren posting shit again? Yeah.” I answer, offering my hand out.

He sighs, but ultimately relinquishes his phone over to me.

Messages. A lot of them spamming my brother’s direct messages on different social media platforms. Ranging from asking about my well-being to general day-to-day talk, but what is clear is that Darren still thinks we’re together. He’s more than just brain-dead in thinking our chat wasn’t just a break-up, but a chance for him to play the innocent card.

Infidelity is something I don’t take kindly.

He has some nerve acting like this.

“I don’t respond.” James offers as if the block button doesn’t exist.

It’s sad, dangerous and stalkerish. Sooner or later, he’ll be here standing outside your door, waiting at the school gates or worse, follow me for the rest of my life. Fuck, as if my life couldn’t get any more stressful.

“Why are you even still friends with him?” I ask.

“I’m not, see.” James barks, retrieving his phone and showing me that he’s right.

Darren isn’t his friend.

“Well-”

“That bastard is up to no good again?” Tendou cuts in stopping my thoughts completely.

“What?”

“Darren, that bastard, your ex-boyfriend, is interfering with your life again.” Tendou states, clearly and matter-of-factly.

The fool always has the king's back.

It seems my judgements were too quickly placed.

“Tell us what you need, and we’ll do it.” Ohira adds, turning around to face me.

Astonished and lost for words, all I can do is gape at the strength of unity and how far they’ll go to die for me if needed. The fact alone that this is coming from Tendou of all people, after what he showed me earlier, I would have never expected him to be in my corner now.

Below me, my brother chuckles.

“It seems to me that you don’t need my help.” James declares, standing up.

Blocking his way with my arm as an idea comes to pass.

“I think I know what to do.” I say, and then I turn my gaze onto the very one that has been burning into the side of my head for the last hour.

Tendou POV

I can’t believe my eyes for what I’m seeing.

Ushijima wilfully being instructed to play the part of Y/n’s new boyfriend just to dissuade Darren from turning into a stalker. This might produce the opposite effect; however, I can’t find the care to tell either of them, as the entertainment is too good to let it go to waste.

“FYI, we’re not actually doing this for real.” Y/n states uncharacteristically.

Out of everyone here I expected her the most to take this opportunity and run with it like a child on Christmas day yet here she is restraining herself. How interesting.

It seems I’m not the only one that thinks so.

“What?” Y/n asks.

James stutters backwards and analyses her from a distance, whatever he sees startles him to the core.

“Did grandma finally shove that stick up your ass?” He says.

The inhale that everyone takes stops him short.

Y/n nervously smiles, thinking that her default expression is enough to mask her emotions and intentions to everybody else. She’s hiding something.

Her feelings for Ushijima have been made more than public by now, and have been spoken into existence by her own very lips.

“I think that is wise.” Ushijima states, garnering everyone’s attention.

Y/n wavers, and she slowly swallows back a reply, looking away.

Oh, that’s how it is.

“S-see and no, James, I haven’t even seen grandma yet.” Y/n grunts, recovering quickly as she scoffs off her brother’s response.

He gasps, offended.

The others, and I, share a look amongst ourselves as we watch them sort themselves out. A photoshoot of sorts, made to look like the photo is being taken from an odd angle that is out of sight and slightly blurry. The aim is to make Darren believe Y/n has moved on by James taking a sneaky photo of his sister studying alone with her boyfriend. 

With us out of the way and crouched around her bed, we watch them awkwardly position themselves beside one another and angle their faces that make it look like from James’s position by the door that they’re kissing. Seeing Ushijima be this close and intimate with another person somehow feels strange and personal, but like the others, I’m unable to look away.

“Hey, shitface get in a little bit closer, I can still see your face.” James orders from the doorway.

Y/n inches in closer, her upper body leaning over more so to one side as she shakily steadies herself by placing her hands on his shoulders and ruffling up his collar to sell the image. Ushijima’s eyes widen for the briefest of moments before they relax, and his eyes never leave hers. His breathing looks normal, and his movements haven’t changed whilst hers become more uncertain and awkward as each click of the shutter goes.

“Y/n, for god’s sake, just kiss him.” James begins to whine, irritation quirking up a storm over his head.

“Alright! For fuck’s sake-” Y/n barks back quickly until she looses her balance and topples them both over.

Reader POV

His lips are mere centimetres away. Kissable in fact. No, they’re not, but they could be. I could lean in more, the others wouldn’t know if we weren’t acting, they’d suspect we were kissing already. It’s just me and him right now, and for the moment all our troubles are meaningless.

His throat bobs and I notice the intensity of his pulse beneath my fingers, as does mine with the way his hand knots at the base of my neck. My hair waterfalls around us, shaping just our faces into a tunnel, the shutter clicks multiple times, and I remember what we’re doing and why. I must make this look believable, and so I angle my face and lean in closer, almost touching.

Our breaths are hot.

His eyelashes tickle my cheek and when my lips part they gently graze his.

It’s a near thing.

His hand on my side is prominent but not pushing.

“Ushijima-san, are you okay?” Semi asks from somewhere in the room.

The moment does not spoil.

Ushijima gulps thickly, his lips smacking softly before he turns slightly, our noses touching. I stop functioning and for the smallest, tiniest slither of hope and impending doom his embrace tightens and then breaks. Pushing and shifting away, I catch the memo and pull myself off him and breach the tension in the room with a gasp of air.

“I’m fine.” He says.

It is really a loaded reply that has a hundred different meanings attached to it.

“That was great.” James interrupts, winking and offering me a thumbs up before leaving as quickly as he came.

The boy's flushed faces and star struck gazes sends a flurry of flutters into my stomach and catching in my throat as the real problem begins to take root. We were so close and without my hesitancy, which is so unlike me, I would have done it. I would have forgone my previous warnings and kissed him. And I think I would have enjoyed it.

My phone pings, a message from Chey.

Chapter Text

By some bloody miracle we all managed to pass our exams, I honestly expected at least one of them to fail, statistically speaking one in thirty should, but I guess not my boys. With that all said and done, nationals began to look clearer without that brain fog and sleepless nights weighing us all down.

However, the early wake-up call right after exam season feels too much like a bollocking when I have thirty players to headcount, secure the volleyball equipment, luggage and begin going over strategies at four o’clock in the morning. Someone really needs to fucking shoot me for mistaking that I could do all that and end up being the last bastard on the coach before take-off.

An incoming headache will surely be arriving soon.

Heading onto the coach, everyone is tired and drooping back to sleep in their respective places yet every seat I walk past is full or is being made into a makeshift bed. The only other free seat that I do find is next to somebody I really shouldn’t be sat next to. Ushijima clocks me just as quickly as I do him, and he picks up his duffle bag and places it into the overhead compartment. The way he moves, stretches and acts so fluidly and gentlemanly sends flutters straight to my fanny, and fuck, why does he have to do this to me.

I was just fine hating him.

Crushing on him hard and hating myself for it yet here he is acting like this, like someone who isn’t a brick wall and is emotionally empathetic to my well-being and needs. Fuck. I really need to be run over before I make an even bigger mistake.

“Can I?” I ask, feeling like an apologetic knob head after remembering all the silly shit I’ve done and said to him.

He gives me a look and reaches for my things, and I give them to him because I’m a whore for the right angles he’s portraying, and damn that ass requires spiking.

Ushijima steps back in, offering for me to take the window seat, I fix a smile and take him up on that offer. Kicking myself, as now I am trapped between the window and this magnificent beast that’s suddenly acting like he cares about me. I am the manager and he the captain, it’s just sportsman behaviour and nothing else, but the more I keep telling myself that the more I begin to not believe in it.

“I heard you did well in your English test, I mean of course you did, but I know how much you struggled with it and well, what I’m trying to say is well done.” I say, managing to suppress the tremors from poking to the surface.

I doubt he noticed.

His wide-set shoulders graze against me as he shifts into a more comfortable position and in doing so, he knocks his knees into mine and maintains the contact. Except I, in my brightest mindset, pull away. Fearful in what this could mean. His heat recedes, and I’m left with the coldness of my disparity as closure.

“I admit it was difficult, but I persevered.” He nods and then glances at me with those piercing eyes again.

What is happening. Has he turned to witchcraft because how can he switch up his behaviour so quickly, it’s unlike him to be so endearing… to me. Of all the people he chooses, I’d likely thought it’d be Tendou, but me, now that is out of the question and for one, I’m not his taste. I think.

I want to look away, but I can’t, and so I’m trapped in limbo, unable to do anything other than agree with him and sigh in relief when he finally looks to someone else. He’s put a spell on me, I can feel it. The pounding in my chest and the jitteriness in my bones is unnerving. When I’m supposed to be a prodigy, a national league player who stems from one of the greatest volleyball families in this generation, but I’m also just a girl, a girl with wayward dreams.

A girl who has always liked things she shouldn’t have and knows what’s better for herself, yet her nature is to fuck around and find out. This is just the consequences of my own actions, and now I’ve got to lie in the bed I’ve made and dream away this sinful nightmare.

Fortunately, sleep takes me like it does everyone on this sordid journey and in the very early hours of the day the clear roads and smooth travel aid in my peaceful rest. A couple of hours go by, and eventually an inconsiderate jolt wakes me up, but something feels different. My side is warm against a firm but soft arm rest, my fluttering eyes blink away sleep as I find myself sandwiched between Ushijima’s chin and shoulder. My hands are like grappling hooks around his meaty arm where his hand has slithered over to my side and onto my thigh.

No wonder I felt warm, having him feel me up would do that.

Carefully, I angle myself out of the sticky situation and stifle my laughter as Ushijima’s head bobs and swings aimlessly over his chest. Rather than taking this moment to calm myself and reset my life’s choices, I take the time to study his profile. His bone structure is strong that’s matched with full cheeks and smooth, creaseless skin. From his full, stoic eyebrows down to his long straight nose and full lips makes my heart pound for the worse and my chances dwindle.

The statue of David has nothing on him, when he is just simply that beautiful.

“It’s rude to stare.” His deep, gruff voice sends shivers down into my nether regions.

Startled, I retract myself into the corner of the window like a gecko on the wall, trying to mind her own business amongst these wide-eyed humans.

“Do you shave?” I ask with the utmost confidence.

Ushijima blinks and turns to face me with his characteristic frown shadowing his face.

“I mean, you have a bit of stubble, here.” I say, tapping my jaw.

His lips purse and his brows notch together even tighter.

“I don’t shave.” He says vehemently.

“Huh, are you sure?” I ask, nodding slowly to his declaration.

Ushijima’s frown deepens before he crowds the space between and leans in. His highly expressive face breathes upon mine and shows off the most impeccable clear skin I’ve ever seen. No dimpling, scars or pigmentation to be found for a pubescent teenage boy.

He’s certainly proving that he isn’t one.

Following his actions, I also lean in, tracking his defined jaw for any signs of stubble, but I find none.

“That’s strange,” I mutter, unknowingly closing the gap between us.

“I thought I saw some.” I say, looking up to find awe in his olive eyes.

Ushijima leans in, his hand a heavy presence on my thigh as he slowly tracks my confusion down to my lips, and everything else dies in the background. His hot breath smothers my senses and charges my nerves to infinity. He draws his left hand over, smoothing away my frizzy hair behind my ear, and gently cups the side of my face.

My heart furiously pounds and bleats in my mind.

He strokes his thumb along my bottom lip and then begins to lean in closing his eyes and-

“Come on, let’s go!” Tendou calls down the corridor and immediately the tension dies, pulling Ushijima out of his trance.

I, on the other hand, am left star struck at this sudden revelation.

What the fuck was that.

Ushijima pulls away, clenches his fists and roughly removes himself and his gear away from me as fast as he can all the while looking rather pissed off at me for some reason. As if that was of my instigation and not his.

Alone, I begin to laugh softly which quickly devolves into mania, sat in the corner of the coach as everyone faintly chatters outside.

Eventually, I bite some courage and descend into the fanfare. 

In the time it has taken us to get here, the dark sky faded away, and the sunrise took its place. Standing outside a rather shabby looking hotel that could do with a lick of everything, Coach Washijo gestures for us all to huddle around him.

“I don’t need to remind you that we’re representing the school wherever we go. You’re not children, and you’ll respect the other guests like you do me. When we’re here we rest, I don’t want to hear anything about extra practice or skipping meals, looking after yourselves is the key most important thing an athlete could do.” He began.

“I have been alerted that some rival schools will also be staying here. I don’t want to see nor hear anything about fighting or so God help me I’ll wring your neck in to next Sunday. Leave them be and I’ll let you be. And for the love of God, don’t go wandering and getting lost.” Coach Washijo rubs his eyes over the bridge of his nose as he pointedly looks at Tendou and Goshiki.

Both of which avert their eyes and begin innocently whistling.

My eyes trek across and up Ushijima’s frame, slowly he returns my gaze. An unknowing settles between us as I can’t quite pinpoint his reasoning behind his earlier actions.

“We’re here to check in and go, L/n-san will distribute your breakfast bars on the coach. From here on out don’t go making a mockery of the Shiratorizawa name!” He calls, as if drawing up on his mount and punching his sword into the sky.

The team cheers and quickly filter into a file behind him as we all check in to our respective rooms. Unlike the boys, I’ll be staying a floor above, as I imagine that coach doesn’t want the boys fraternizing with me and them getting distracted. The holiday mind-set might be kicking in even if they’re here to work.

The Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium is as magnificent as my family described it. All three of my brothers have passed through these gates and played on the main court, my father played here professionally a couple of times. Being signed to a Japanese team is what led him to eventually finding love and starting a family. However, when his contract ended and another pulled him, my mother and baby Leo all the way to the UK where we stayed for the next several years.

I digress, this place has seeded all my brothers and many young professionals before me, and now I must wait on the sidelines and watch my team play, something I’ll be doing in one month’s time. I don’t even want to think about it, I mean, I should, but I can’t. Spiralling now will get me nowhere, especially when I should be focusing on the team’s needs now and not me.

Now in training room three, I keep a keen eye on everyone’s mental state as the first match of the day picks up around ten, and it’s seven now, the opening ceremony, and then it’s game time. For now, the boys are jittery, which is expected and more than pumped to let off a bit of steam before the real matches begin. A lot of the big-name powerhouses are here and with the top five aces all in attendance I can’t wait for the absolute pandemonium to break out.

Satisfied that no one is going to get stage fright, I sneak away and watch as the other teams filter through the corridor, eagerly waiting for the opening ceremony to be over and for the games to begin. My attention gets snagged on a lively character with a vigorous personality as he barks and jumps and laps up the packed stadium like a dog on a walk. Walking by unnoticed, I read the gold lettering on the back of their white jerseys as ‘Fukurodani’.

Now that rings a bell.

If Shiratorizawa didn’t take me, I would have gone there, fortunately, as a legacy I didn’t see the point of noting down any more schools, but my previous one in America said that I must follow the guidelines. Nepotism, reputation, and tradition is the very reason why Shiratorizawa accepted me and all my other siblings before me.

“A tenacious team grounded on strong bonds, a wild and eager ace and hard work. Fukurodani Academy have proven to themselves and to us that they have every right to be here and are the runners-up to win.” Coach Washijo announces over my shoulder.

Shuddering from his sudden appearance behind me, I drop my notebook and poke the interest of the golden retriever. His wide set almost owlish eyes slide past me as a smaller but lean lad snaps his attention back and the team moves past without another glance.

Staring into the far wall as if those sharp golden eyes haven’t just been seared into my retinas and now quake a deep yearning in my heart.

I feel Coach Washijo’s eyes narrow over my complacency and fancying myself another crush, but my admiration is sorely misplaced.

“Well then, I can’t wait for the day we wipe the floor with them.” I say, picking up my notebook and heading back into the gym.

Eventually, the first matches of the day soon come by as Shiratorizawa faces off against, Tsubakihara Academy, an average school with above average players. I watch the team move in sync with each other and pick at their flaws within mine and the opponent's team. Watching from the sidelines is as useless as it gets but being able to do this much alleviate some helplessness nestled between my breasts.

Coach Washijo sits stoically and unmoving beside me and Coach Saito as the match progresses into our favour.

Unsurprisingly, we won the match with flying colours and unceremoniously put the Tsubakihara name to shame as the team slap each other on the back and took their places like seasoned machines. By a grace of fortune, coach gave the team a much-needed break before they’re sent back to the hotel for more groundwork and strategy meetings. As the only supervising body, coach gave me the responsibility of looking after a team of thirty and a pat on the back for good luck.

Spiralling inside with a twitchy eye and sweat trickling down my back, I can say that I am with a one-hundred percent certainty successfully failing on keeping track of at least one of the players, let alone thirty. Knowing that Goshiki would take this opportunity to get closer to Ushijima I didn’t bother with him, that could be said about Ohira, Yamagata, and Semi herding the first years around like the shepherds they are. Ushijima is a big boy and Tendou follows to annoy him but fails every time, Kawanishi and Shirabu are friends and wouldn’t leave a man behind, which left me with Soekawa. The undervalued vice-captain, who has decided to take a rule out of Ushijima’s book and go wandering.

This team makes me want to pull my hair out and sew my eyes closed with it. 

Heading past the food stalls, I overhear the familiar banter of one annoying redhead talking at a brick wall. They’re not my first choice, but with my limited options, I dive in any way and frisk them for answers.

“Tendou.” I say, poking him in the side.

He screams and jumps away.

Ushijima pauses his silent interrogation with the stall seller and glances down. Avoiding his watchful eyes, I take some much-needed respite in Tendou’s obvious discomfort and let the overwhelming smell of cooked food soothe the ache in my stomach.

“M-manager-chan!” Tendou says, recovering from his part as the damsel in distress.

Only for a short moment I grace Ushijima the presence of my gaze and what a mistake that was, his heated look dips to my mouth again, and I’m forced to look away. I’m not seeing things, and his behaviour goes far beyond that is appropriate of a captain to his manager.

He wants to kiss me.

The realisation hits hard and nearly knocks me over as another thought rips the sentimentality out of it, he vehemently dislikes me and would only be doing it to satiate his curiosity. He knows me just as much as I know what’s hidden behind his briefs. A stunt for a stunt.

“What do you want?” He asks, the vendor clicks his pen and turns to face me.

“Takoyaki and a Hatakosen strawberry Ramune.” I say, swallowing hard and returning his gaze with a knowing one.

I’m a greedy bitch and whatever he’s willing to give, I’ll take it in kind to my claws. The deplorability of it all should rub me up the wrong way, but now that I know what his game plan is, and now I can say with the upmost certainty that my fragile feelings are safe.

Tendou gawks between us, and honestly, I don’t have enough fucks to care.

“If you’re offering, I’ll have mitarashi dango.” Tendou gleefully adds.

Ushijima says nothing and turns back to the vendor, who scribbles down a receipt and hands it to him before ushering us to the side for the next customer.

The warmth to my left side and peculiar knowing of being in somebody’s shadow nags me to look up. Ushijima’s strong side profile is slowly becoming my wet dream as I loudly sigh and catch his attention. His eyes are a window to the hot, simmering mess eating away at his self-control, as even now he grinds his jaw and can’t help himself but stare.

Our order is called and as I go by to collect mine, I face up to him and wink, but my smile quickly falls off my face and my interest in him fades.

My standards should be higher than him.

Leaving them both behind as I sit to watch the Fukurodani match unfold with an unknown team. I watch the same tall, lively player bounce around the court scoring straights and cross-shots like a child high on sugar. I laugh and almost choke on my food when Ohira hands me a plastic cup of water and rubs my back. On my way here, I ran into him as he was heading towards Ushijima’s location where I managed to relocate him beside me, unfortunately Ushijima found us and sits on the other side of Ohira.

Not far enough yet a niggle still jerks half of my precious attention away from the rather attractive number four and towards his adorable frowning face. At least the peace between us has yet to be broken, and Ohira unwittingly aids in stirring the pot as he also offers me his handkerchief.

The match ends in Fukurodani’s favour, which is something I highly anticipated happening. I was fair in my assessment that they’re good, but their flaws in their ace has costed them points that would have shaved time off their matches. His hysterical behaviour and mood swings gets the better of him and forces the hand of everyone else to pander to his needs and make up for lost time between the divided setter and the team.

They are the team to beat but so is Inarizaki High, the reigning kings of nationals with Itachiyama Institute, stealing the spotlight from them now and then. The next couple of days are going to be very interesting indeed.

Chapter Text

Walking down the corridor, heaving and quite easily breaking a sweat when the sharp plastic corners from the box of water bottles begin to bruise my fingers and elbows. The near empty weight made the distance easier to travel to, but the travel back is what concerns me. Nearing the water fountain, I set aside the box and begin unscrewing all the lids when I feel a tap on my shoulder.

“Excuse me, but can we fill our water bottles up first since you happen to have a lot there.” I feel my face twist before my reaction could be heard.

Turning around and glaring into the innocent owlish eyes of one Fukurodani player; the very same I had been ogling at a few hours earlier, he flushes and looks away. But his friend on the other hand, the one who tapped my shoulder and spoke up, looks like trouble waiting to happen.

“What.” My rough voice startles Mr. Handsome back a step.

Swallowing thickly, I put my hands on my hips and shift my weight to one leg.

“We just have two.” Trouble shakes his red and black water bottle in front of my face.

His condescending tone instantly rubs me the wrong way.

“No.” I say harshly, grimacing at his arrogance and self-entitlement.

The tall and lanky one sighs and runs a hand through his messy lop-sided dark hair, which instantly perks back into unkemptness.

“Come on, we don’t have to behave like children.” He sighs, muttering like a disgruntled senior figure would to a much younger peer.

My eye twitches at the insinuation.

“Children?” I laugh, loudly and hard.

Sucking my teeth, I take a step forward and nod towards him.

“A child would offer help rather than barging in front, can’t you see I have thirty bottles to fill, and I would be done a lot faster if I had help than waiting for you two to fill up your bottles and then slowly trudging back to my team.” I say, grounding out my words as if glass was cutting into my cheek.

They share a look amongst themselves and shrug.

“I see that we got off on the wrong foot. I’m Kuroo, captain of the Nekoma high boys' volleyball team.” Kuroo bows, nudging his companion with his elbow.

“I’m Bokuto Kotaro, and the captain and ace of Fukurodani Academy, and one of the top five aces in the country.” He adds boisterously, puffing out his chest and smiling so utterly adorably.

Catching my breath, I watch Kuroo move around me and towards the sink of the water fountain. He crouches and takes one of the boys’ bottles and begins filling it up. When he’s done, he turns around and takes a gulp, utterly flabbergasted at his actions I’m about to reprimand him for contaminating a player's bottle and health when I notice what he’s done.

The bottle in his hand is his, and the one he took sits idly on top of the water fountain.

Boys will be assholes anywhere I go.

“Seeing as you were here first, and you’re right about it going faster if we help. That is, if you still want us?” He adds, cheekily winking.

Smiling a little too hard, I walk up to him and across just enough to graze my breast against his arm as I retrieve the misplaced bottle, Kuroo freezes and bleats red.

“Oh, how helpful of you. You can start with this one.” I say, shoving the bottle into his chest.

What would have been a ten-minute gruelling job turns into a harmonious brand of unhinged brotherly romance and idiotic statements that would have anyone questioning the concussion rates in athletes. The sub-consequence and correlation of the two equates eerily similar to the idiocy bumbling out of the buffoon clenching a tight fist around the faucet as water continues to spray everywhere.

Fortunately, for me, all the bottles have been filled, and my time spent here has come to an end, but I just can’t bring myself to leave them in this sudden water fight between the water fountain and Bokuto.

“You can’t stay like that forever.” I say as Bokuto stays resolutely still holding onto the faucet.

He’s drenched from head to toe. His once flamboyant monochromatic hairstyle now rests flatly against his forehead like a sodden, unwrung mop. His once baggy navy shirt now clings to his muscular chest, a sudden but wanted surprise.

“I have an idea, remove your hands.” Kuroo offers, pushing the box of water bottles away from the fountain with his foot.

“Are you insane?” Bokuto cries out.

The outburst earns him a mouthful of water and a soaking front that begins to seep into his shorts.

“Just listen to me, it’ll work.” Kuroo’s calm voice instils a level of trust in Bokuto as he takes a deep breath and lets go.

As the water continues to spray erratically now, some spray landing as far as my face and drenching the better part of Kuroo’s bedhead. He quickly leans down beside the fountain and turns what looks like a knob, and then the water stops.

He must have known that the emergency stop valve was there when he first picked up the water bottle, but why would he let his friend get absolutely drenched-

“What? What the…” Bokuto stutters backwards, confusion leaking out over his dripping wet face.

The moment it clicks for Bokuto is the very same moment their friendship ends.

“You left me standing there getting wet when you knew how to stop it all along?” He snaps.

Bokuto looks away and sighs, fisting his shirt away from his body, which amazingly shows off the contours of his back muscles. The eye-catching view instantly gets blocked by Kuroo who immediately consoles him and tries to minimise any lasting damages to their friendship.

Which seems to be none when Bokuto perks up from whatever bullshit Kuroo fed him and returns with a happy smile, and any signs of betrayal has simply withered away.

“Ready?” I ask.

Kuroo picks up the box of water bottles whilst Bokuto continues to flap his shirt open and closed and each time that he does I catch a slither of a bulky toned abdomen. The moistened sight sends shivers between my thighs, and my subtle gaze stays catching as Kuroo saddles my right-hand side, sandwiching me to the wall.

Eventually, we arrive at the elevator.

“You never said what team you’re from?” Kuroo says, disrupting the peaceful silence.

A sly smile breaks its way onto my face as the scuffed but slightly mirrored doors open.

“I didn’t.” I say, pressing the button for the floor below us.

Kuroo sighs with his whole body as he and Bokuto settle on my left, the doors ahead closed.

“Keeping it close to your chest, eh. Afraid of the powerhouse name? Don’t be, we’re all a bunch of lads just trying to have fun.” Kuroo says, sucking his teeth and hollowing out his cheek as he tries to suppress a smile.

It’s a nice smile despite the sleazy undertones.

The elevator begins to slowly descend.

“I’m not afraid, I just like being mysterious, that’s all.”

Above the red digital number flicker to the lower floor and once the doors open the musty air of unfiltered damp and patchy lighting welcomes me back. I wasn’t gone long enough, yet the smell has tripled, and the shadowy corridor couldn’t be loud enough with its ominous presence.

An audible gulp echoes out from the elevator and into the corridor, me and Kuroo pan over to Bokuto. The shivering buffoon peaks over Kuroo’s shoulder and backs into the elevator door.

“I-I forgot to bring my trunks.” Bokuto stutters, the colour draining from his face.

“What?” He barks, a flush of pink returning to his cheeks.

“Boo!”

Bokuto screams and knocks the back of his head against the doors in his attempt to escape.

Kuroo turns to me with his shit eating grin and shakes his head as if he disapproves of my antics.

Despite all that, we make haste down the dark and gloomy corridor and find Bokuto’s courage along the way as I remember what he said when he freaked himself out earlier.

“What’s this about needing trunks?” My question snaps Kuroo out of his trance.

“There’s an indoor pool that me and some guys are going to use it later.” Kuroo adds, leaning down into my space.

His arms radiate with heat, and I can’t help but lean into it.

There’s an offer in those words, an unspoken invitation sparks behind his eyes, and the way he crowds my space suggests that his interest goes beyond just common courtesy.

Eventually, we make it to my destination.

“Well, this is me.” I say, dragging my feet just before coach’s doorstep.

Kuroo smiles, a little too long, and endearingly.

“So should I expect to see you tonight?” he asks, breaking the ice.

Before I can answer, however, the door to the coaches room opens revealing Ushijima in his purple and black athletic wear and honestly, I have never been so turned on in my life. I take the moment to pray to the volleyball Gods that they replace his black bottoms with grey ones.

At least then I would be working with something but having seen what’s beneath those briefs I can’t say I’m horribly disappointed, it’s the opposite in fact. His solicited naked front is still saved in my locked file on my phone, as well as never forgetting his hunky chest for my background.

“Ushijima-san?” Kuroo questions, obviously taken aback by his sudden, unexpected appearance.

 He proceeds to look to me for assistance. They both do.

“HEY, HEY, HEY. YOU’RE THE MANAGER FOR SHIRATORIZAWA?” Bokuto loudly exclaims, bursting everyone’s ear drums.

At least the dancing monkey isn’t just a one-man show, as Bokuto’s few braincells connect the now obvious dots laid out before him.

“L/n-san?” Ushijima enquires, his frown beginning to upset me.

Turning to face Kuroo and giving my back to Ushijima I decide to play devil's advocate and put it out there that I’m no wet wipe hanging onto every morsel of attention that he gives me. I have standards and as low as they are I deserve the respect of a man that knows what he wants and not from a fumbling boy conflicted with what he wants.

You can’t eat the cake and have the cake.

His previous actions have shown me that much, I might be a whore for his brief gentle and passionate side, but I have the brains to tell myself no.

“I think, I might take you up on that offer.” I say, fluttering my eyelashes and smiling coyly.

Before turning around, past Ushijima and into the fray of thirty thirsty volleyball players.

By day two of Nationals, the level that everyone are playing at turned up a notch. Today teams are tested to their limits as many are sent home or pass the test of endurance of national level teams, the cream of the crop, and mend the cracks that have begun to fissure.

With our first match over, the team and I, sit and wait patiently up in the stands for our next opponent to be done with their current match, in a few hours that will be us. Beside me, Ushijima and Coach Washijo watches the match intensely whilst I take notes, hoping that my contribution amounts to anything. All I have done so far is take notes and offer little to no help other than the duties expected of me. I have been where they have, any match of any calibre is daunting and watching your next opponent bombard and decimate their current opponent is like dousing oneself in gasoline and waiting for the spark to catch.

The whistle blows and our opponent wins with two straight sets.

Murmurs pick up around me, some boys talk amongst themselves, and still Coach Washijo chooses now to do nothing. Does he have that much pride in his team that they’re not going to fall under the pressure? Am I just reading too much into it?

Everyone begins to get up, and I can’t just let them go and fester with these thoughts, I have them as much as they do. Pride or not, we’re not all an unfeeling machine, like Ushijima. I get up and put a hand to stop coach from moving away, his brows notch, and he rolls his eyes when he realises what I’m about to do.

“I might just be talking out of my arse here and forgive me if I’m wrong but don’t doubt yourself.” The team halts and watches me make a fool out of myself.

“There is a reason why you’re all here, we’re the best in Miyagi. You work hard every day. I watch you all push yourselves to the limits to be here, to fight and win. There is no such thing as perfection in sports. The perfect form, the perfect spike and the perfect aim. Being perfect leaves no room to grow, especially when you have an entire career to flesh out, but what I can say is you’ve polished everything you have left to give.” My voice grows hoarse, and I will back tears.

Turning to face the arena, the court is being emptied and refilled with new participants, yet we stay. 

“As of right now you are the most polished perfect versions of yourself, but tomorrow you will be better. We’ve watched them fight, but we fight harder, we’ve watched them struggle, and we can use that. They might not know us, or they do, they might have watched through all our game plays and knick-picked every minute flaw you have, but so have we.” I say, faltering on my next words.

Looking back to the team, I have every last ounce of their confidence in me as I do theirs, and Ushijima’s olive eyes have never been so supportive and piquant. The intensity nearly derails my thinking as the subtlest nod pushes me to finish what I started.

“Don’t doubt what you already know about yourselves. You are the best. You have amazing teamwork, technique, and understanding that far outshines any tricks they’ll come up with to knock you down. Furthermore, you have the strength of each other, your captain, and ace to back you up and the searing wrath of your coach to haunt your mistakes.” A few of the guys try to dampen their laughs as I continue.

“And I… I will sell all of your dirty pictures on the black market.” I choke out, breaking an octave as I grunt away my tears.

“Ooof, so close yet so far.” Tendou hisses, standing up and taking the water bottle bag with him.

Coach Washijo grunts, smiles and walks out hunched over with his hands locked behind his back, the team soon follow him out, leaving me alone with Ushijima. I haven’t been alone with him like this since I went to track him down at Sendai City Gym.

The odd comforting feeling settles over me as I notice him an arms-length away, turned facing me with an expecting expression. I have no idea what he wants from me other than a taste for my lips, he’s curious like that, but my heart can’t take it. This hot and cold behaviour from him is destroying me.

“You have changed since you’ve first arrived.” Ushijima comments the obvious.

I laugh to stop myself from rolling my eyes.

“Really? Thanks, I guess.” I say, picking up my notebook.

“I could say the same about you, but I don’t know if that’s a good thing.” I add, averting my eyes elsewhere.

My words are harsh, but so were his.

“You are still vulgar, inappropriate, and disrespectful.” He states unceremoniously.

Keeping step with me, Ushijima maintains a healthy distance, but still he’s closer than he would have been at the start of the semester. I am both right and wrong about my assessment, yet the conclusion remains the same, he is only acting on the behalf of his curiosity.

I am ashamed for how that makes me feel.

“But you’ve gained my trust, and I will consider your words carefully before this evening’s match.” He says kindly, turning his intense gaze to me.

Especially when he says stuff like that.

The hour arrives, and the team enters the court with an aura of intimidation, but so does our opponent. They knew we were watching them during half-time in their previous match, but we are also a powerhouse school, and we have a legacy to uphold. Ushijima is a major cog in the machine and up until recently Shiratorizawa have consecutively been in nationals. From what I heard they were close last year however, hindered by the previous captain’s pride and egotism to win.

In the very first set everyone could tell that this fight would be a long one as our opponent have proven themselves before that they can do this five times over. The challenge of endurance and technique has begun, and the fact of the matter is, despite everything I said, the team doesn’t bode well with underdog teams. Aoba Johsai is a long-standing rival and not exactly what comes to mind when I watch the tenacity of both teams unfold. The ginger shrimp, however, does.

The guys look in the zone, especially Ushijima, his gaze never straying from the ball, and with the aura of dominance around him, I can see why ten out of sixteen of our points are because of him. A honed killer with his only task to play like his life depended on it, which also makes me understand why he’s being scouted by All-Japan when he has that devastating southpaw spin and canon power backing him up.

I know how to pick them. I wither, hiding behind my notebook just enough that my eyes clip over the edge, unable to tear myself away from it.

Being the first to hit sixteen points we’re allowed to have a very small timeout, I somehow become reactivated by my need to do more. I give out towels, bottles and mentally note down everyone’s health and clock for any sign of strain. Everyone is in good shape, excellent shape. Ushijima wipes the sweat bunching over his brow and takes a couple of swigs of water before turning to find me there ready to receive my load.

His breathing is heavy but not quick nor shallow, and the heat radiating off his body feels as though I’m next to a furnace.

“You’re doing great out there.” I say to him mostly, but with everyone near I turn around and give them my best smile.

“Go and beat the living shit out of them.” The guys cheer and Ushijima gives me a stern nod before turning back to the court.

Retreating to my seat, I notice the slight change in all of them, as if they own the court and their opponents are just visitors passing by. Fortunately, the team smashed them out of the park, securing our stay for another day and moving onto the third day of nationals.

Tendou’s one-off out of character moment of carrying my belongings continues as I follow behind the crew with Ushijima in tow when I spot of mop of black curly hair pass by in a streak of green and yellow. That couldn’t be…

“Kiyoomi!” My shout echoes down the corridor and many bystanders stop to gawk at this interesting and unexpected event.

The team halts as does the green and yellow group that was up until now marching passed resolutely silent and detached from reality. Forcibly plugged back in, each member swivels until the pack leader drops his hunched shoulders and turns sneering.

His untrusting eyes and deep-set frown reminds me of a certain someone standing off to my left as I get a good look at the one wearing a blue surgical mask. His furrowing brows lessen, and murmurs begin to grow louder when he marches forwards and takes me into his arms.

I hear gasps happen all around me as my own escape me against my will as his lean, towering frame cocoons me. The embrace is a short squeeze away from breaking my ribs and puncturing something important when he finally releases me.

“When did you get back?” His deep baritone voice triggers the water works between my legs.

Shifting my weight onto one leg and smoothing down my non-wrinkled jersey as a means to steady my pattering heart at the overwhelming joy of being reunited with Sakusa Kiyoomi. The coincidence and happenstance of walking down the same corridor at the same time must be one in a million yet here he is.

Sakusa removes his mask as smiles the same boyish grin he did a couple of years ago; the smile reminds me of the summer rays and sour sweets as he shared his pickled plums with me. The change in his appearance and voice is startling and uncanny but suits him all the same.

“Just a couple of months ago now.” I laugh, breathless.

Now uncovered, his face expresses exactly what he’s thinking, and I can see that his next question will be why didn’t I call.

“Y/n-chan…” He starts, but the next few words seem to fail him.

My name on his lips sounds just as, if not more, breathless as my own trembling voice. There is so much left unsaid and so few time to utter them as I am left speechless at the sudden reunion and almost divine providence.

“Y/n.” Ushijima’s deep and authoritative voice instantly commands my attention.

Spell broken, I gape at him, shocked that he said my name. My first name, a very rare occurrence that makes me believe it to be the first time he’s ever said it. A few of the boys heard him, and they too follow my footsteps and look at him as if he’s grown a second head.

Ushijima glares past me until those icy eyes glance at me, and I shiver beneath it. He looks like bundled up wire trying to pull itself free, but only knots itself further into a jumbled, unpickable mess.

This can’t be happening now, Coach Washijo looks as if he’s about to pop a vessel if we wait around any longer; the coach is waiting on his dime.

“I can’t speak right now, but I promise to make some time for you tomorrow, we have a lot of catching up to do.” I say, reaching out but thinking better of it.

Sakusa nods.

I turn away and march ahead of everyone, wordlessly leading them to the coach and eventually to the hotel. Of course, there was discourse amongst the boys, yapping on with their own set of theories and gossip about my relation to Sakusa and how that affects the dynamic of a certain captain and I.

I just can’t comprehend any of it.

The reunion and Ushijima.

He said my name, something that shouldn’t invoke such a reaction but coming from him feels astronomical and like a real breakthrough between us. I just don’t feel as satisfied as I thought I would.

I remove myself from dinner early and take myself down to the bath house located near the indoor swimming pool. Not only that, but I was never able to go yesterday due to being held ransom by the team to configure a new strategy against the more adaptable powerhouse schools. It seemed to work today, but I can’t say much about tomorrow considering the morning match against Nekoma and if we’re lucky Itachiyama. Being in the same bracket as them is both a blessing and a curse, knowing their track record. Despite that, I do believe that my boys are in for a real fighting chance against them all, it’s the real test against my unorthodox teaching method. Their improvements are attested to that fact but my own still seems to be under scrutiny as I head back bumping into Kuroo and Bokuto, immediately they go beet red.

I look myself over, but I find nothing out of the ordinary, maybe my robe sits too high on my thigh or the barest show of skin dipping into my chest incites a perverse reaction. Looking down, however, I find none but their white knuckling grip on their towels and wash bags.

I sigh, my luck has run to nothing.

“Hey, my eyes are up here.” I say sternly, flicking my two fingers towards my eyes.

Commanded to attention, the two stand-up straight and look ahead, almost through me. The sight alone makes me cackle.

“Have neither of you seen a naked woman before?” I say, toying with the hem on my thigh.

Bokuto’s eyes tear by the fraction of movement, and soon he’s lapping up the display with the eagerness of a prancing peacock. Kuroo however, interjects.

“I, for one, have been privileged enough to have had a girlfriend whilst this one,” He points with his thumb towards Bokuto. “Still flushes whenever we bring the porn mags out.” Kuroo cackles darkly at his friend's misery.

Bokuto’s brows notch as he comprehends his words and, not too late, he reacts by jerking away from the friendly fire and whips around towards him.

“Let’s not forget why your so-called girlfriend broke up with you.” He barks back immediately, silencing Kuroo’s laughter.

His once friendly smile turns into a frown as he argues back another low blow, each one increasingly becoming fouler and more personal. Amidst their bickering, I manage to slip away far enough to be out of their immediate kill zone, but close enough to run into a separate problem: Tendou and Ushijima.

Oh, for fuck’s sake, give me a break.

“Oh, what’s this colluding with the enemy?” Tendou asks, disrupting Kuroo’s and Bokuto’s argument about who has the biggest dick, making them notice my short leaps to distance myself.

Tendou POV

I had noticed like the other times before that Y/n was acting different with the team, coach and especially the wonder boy, Ushijima. He, too, has been different. Changed like a boy discovering the pleasures of rubbing one out, or shall I say he’s growing up. Despite the gnawing need to sink my teeth in and suck the pulp dry I decided against my better nature and observe from a far.

It's a canon event and I can’t have outside intervention interfering.

Whilst Y/n had taken herself away from dinner early I had the privilege of watching the robot puddle into faraway longing gazes and sombre feelings that left me wanting to tear my hair out. He’s close to the edge now and whilst his steps are uncertain, there is a level of trust in knowing that his heart won’t fail him.

But I fear that he is a long way off from figuring out the difference between the literal and figurative sense of the heart. Ushijima is a man of few and very select words, but I will not give up on this tumultuous love story just yet. I will see it through to the end like any die-hard fan; once you’re hooked, you’re in it for the long haul.

With that being said, I need to know what is going on inside his head, and what better excuse than some brotherly bonding in the bath house. That is, until we both clock a certain manager in a skimpy white bath robe. The length can lead any imaginative boy to unravel that knot like a hot steamy prize in any spank bank waiting and ready to be claimed.

Worse yet it seems she’s not alone.

Ushijima’s mood instantly drops, and I fear a chill might be spreading.

Her surprise drains the colour from her skin as she slowly works the courage to look between us and then back towards Nekoma’s captain and Fukurodani’s ace, who also so happens to be a captain. She really does have a fetish for captains or men in leading roles. A kink really but one that shows her up for what she truly is: a role model, a queen, and a whore for being told off, held down and… loved.

Women have needs and I can’t actually fault her for being so honest about hers.

“Oh, what’s this colluding with the enemy?” I ask, obnoxiously loud.

What can I say I’m a man for theatrics.

“Ushiwaka and the guess monster!” Bokuto loudly exclaims, the walls shuddering from the booming of his voice.

Ushijima’s frown sours and I fear a brawl might actually happen.

Y/n quickly watches for any foul turns, but none come and as sandwiched as I can imagine she must be feeling right now, I can’t quite stop myself from stirring the pot. This is exactly what Ushijima requires, and what they say about some rivalry and unexpected challenges is that jealousy makes for the perfect fuel to get this train moving.

Ushijima moves forwards and offers her his towel.

Her lips part to protest until he starts speaking.

“Your choice of clothing is inappropriate, as you know this is a public area with a mixed gender bath house.” Ushijima’s eyes dart up from her exposed cleavage to the guys behind her.

They flinch beneath his icy glare.

Ushijima might be correct in stating the obvious, but he so happens to have forgotten that the hotel offers scheduled single-gender bath house timings to their guests as well as offering free public access. Y/n’s brows furrow as she shakes her head and steps away from his offering hand, I can’t help a hissing breath release when I peek towards Ushijima.

“You’re not so modest yourself, then.” She scoffs, clicking her tongue.

Looking him up and down with an unsavoury sneer colouring her features, and she chooses then to flaunt her womanly charms to the obstinate prude brimming with unchecked and unrecognised desire for her for all the world to see.

“Really.” Her voice pitches as she drawls the last syllable.

“Does this not get your dick hard, wet and ready for me?” She beckons forward, flapping her robe open over her chest.

More cleavage is revealed and a heavier gulp rings in my ears.

“Am I not the object of your desires, do you not wish to taste these lips and tread south for a headier thirst?” the obscenities fly senselessly out of her mouth.

Y/n prowls until the tip of her nail draws up from his shirt to his jugular.

“Why hold back at all when I already know you just want to fuck me and leave? Ushijima Wakatoshi.” She says the heart in her voice wavering.

“You’re a bastard whose just as deplorable as the rest of us low lives. Stop acting like a snob that cares because we all know you don’t.” She mutters under her breath.

Y/n scoffs, shortly glancing over her shoulder to the stunned and silent duo and offers them a sombre smile.

“So, long boys. I hope you don’t get your knickers in a twist when we beat the living shit out of all of you tomorrow.” She says, padding away.

Throughout all of that, Ushijima remains stone-cold and staring at a fixed point as his jaw works and his white knuckled fists droop to his sides.

“I just remembered that Kenma hasn’t eaten.” Kuroo states, turning on his heel and marching away as fast as possible.

Bokuto the awkward monkey stands before us unsure on what to do before he shrugs and heads into the bath house anyway, as if nothing had happened.

“Tendou, did I overstep my bounds?” Ushijima asks, and I can’t help but sweat under his blind ignorance.

My dear miracle boy will need an eternity to figure out his mistakes before his heart ever makes its way onto the top of his priorities, and long before then Y/n’s interest would have disintegrated.

Reader POV

The stars float in the rippled water as the night lights illuminate the pool with an ethereal glow. Utterly vulnerable and open for anyone to sneak in unnoticed, whilst I continue to float beneath the skylight and soak in the vastness framed above. Here, I am just a weightless being moving aimlessly amongst the still water, alone.

My thoughts are quiet as they drift away as I do.

Fabric flaps and then the still air becomes crisp and scratchy against my skin as I become aware that I’m no longer alone. For a moment there is nothing and without moving I do not watch who enters the pool, but I keep a keen ear out for the splash of water that eventually comes.

I don’t make any movement to drift away from the centre as the newcomer runs laps up and down the very far edge, I don’t stand and wade towards my allocated corner and remain parallel to the other. No. I stay boneless and adrift in the centre of the pool as my new unidentified companion swims like a fish in their slither.

But oh no, of course that was too much of an ask as the splashing stop the wading ripples towards me begin to increase. At a time like this, when night has long since seeped in and most of the hotel’s patrons have taken themselves to bed. I begin to wonder just who is swimming towards me.

I’m certain that none of the boys packed trunks let alone figured that the hotel has an indoor pool, the bath house is enough as is. The other patrons dart in the rooms on sight of seeing the rumbustious volleyball lot and many a time the hotel walls have felt deserted and as dreary as the outside looked.

A thriving pressure settled over my chest as I don’t want to get murdered, but I also don’t want to play chicken either. The closer the ripples become the heavier the laboured breathing signals to me that my companion is male, another drop in the ocean as the anchors begin setting in.

Okay, I get it, I’m the chicken, and he’s the fox, and I’m not going down without getting the fuck out of dodge first.

Turning quickly around, I unceremoniously belly flop into the water and begin swimming away, but not in the hurried sense of being chased but as if I was going that way anyway. Still, it seems my assailant chases after me, his speed only increasing because I am a shit long distance swimmer. Then in the thick of my beating heart, souring thoughts on what’s going to happen to me next, I hear nothing.

No splashing.

No laboured breathing.

Just the calming swish of rippling water.

I don’t stop.

The calm before the storm is never a sign to stop and ride out the worst of it when that has yet to come.

The blue and white tiled wall grazes against my fingers and whilst I should stop myself from colliding into the wall, I keep going. Panic setting in.

But when I get to the edge and still heard nothing, I like the blonde twit in any horror movie turns around to face her end, but nothing appears out of the ordinary. The water ripples but acts as still as a lake, only reacting to movement within. My eyes look down and the dark mass erupts in front of me, caging, towering mass of muscular tanned skin and broad shoulders that could block any light out of the day.

At the head of my panic, burst with white-hot fury as I slap the water and him for making me think that I was in danger. For pissing me off earlier and having me now face my thoughts about the matter head on.

“Y/n.” Ushijima breathes, his rosy cheeks colouring his otherwise impassive face.

“Ushijima.” I spit between gritted teeth.

“Wakatoshi.” He adds, confidently wading closer, his eyes never straying from mine.

Jutting backwards, my spine hitting the almost sharp edge of the wall as his radiating heat licks onto my exposed abdomen. I didn’t pack a swimming costume, but I always bring a spare set of underwear for any occasion and unfortunately, I chose a white set whilst all my black ones were in the wash. Exhausted and standing in the water meant that the crisp, cool air is reacting to my flushing skin. My nipples for one have never felt perkier and harder in their life, and my wandering eye catches the quiver in his throat.

“What?” I ask, trying to disrupt this prolonged silence.

We are not mind readers, and yet we expect the other to be one.

“Wakatoshi.” He says again, crowding me this time.

Both of his forearms straddle either side of my body, his flush deepening as the exhaustion hits him. I smirk, relishing in the fact that whilst he’s a beast on the court, here he’s just like any other sod shaking like a wet dog.

“Ushiji-”

“Wa-ka-to-shi.” He enunciates slowly, his eyes never leaving mine.

Furrowing my brows and pursing my lips, trying to understand where all this is coming from. His behaviour has been strange as he juggles between what he wants to do and what he does to convey what the fuck he’s feeling.

When a single inane moment lapses over and reminds me the differences between us, and what counts as normal to me is not to him.

“You’re jealous.” The resounding clip of my voice electrocutes him.

He flinches and then he becomes unmoving.

“You’re jealous, jealous that I call another man by his first name.” My laughter is unhinged as I angle my face towards him and sneer.

“The green-eyed monster isn’t a pretty look, especially on you, you who has been playing hot and cold with me for the last two days. You who continues to put me down only to bring me up again to do it all over again.” I say, shoving him back.

The water between us simmers, or maybe that’s just from the intensity of touching him. I continue to shove him away, and he continues to stay standing against my whims, taking it all unapologetically.

“You think you deserve it. To me, it means nothing, but to you, I know it means everything.” I say, knowing that it will hurt him.

Ushijima does not look upset; on the contrary he looks pissed off as he eyes me.

“Tell me why, why should I indulge you, of all people?” My own emotions getting the better of me when I purposefully sink my nails into him.

Without any practice to keep them short, I’ve been filing them into pointed claws as another means to terrorise.

Ushijima clamps his hand over mine and forces my hand on his chest and me with him. His face turns and his hot breath dances across my cheek. I shudder both ways as I remember the feeling of his hands snaked around my waist and cupping the back of my head.

I part my lips to question him again, when he reaches down and answers them with his tongue in my mouth. Large, wet and filling his tongue swallows my surprise as he takes to the advantage and deepens the kiss if I can even call it one. His mouth is huge and his unmoving firm lips gape over mine as if he’s trying to suck out my soul and not passionately kiss me like it’ll be the last time.

This is what I’ve been yearning for, a mouth-to-mouth procedure that tastes like a dry hump and woeful inexperience pushed over the edge.

Ushijima’s strong grip pulls me in and with all his focus attended elsewhere his towering frame and muscular arms around me, on top of me and caging me in begins to force down a weight that I cannot fight. Shit. He’s going to fucking drown me before he can suffocate me.

So, I do the only logical thing there is when one finds themselves lodged in a bind, I bite his fucking tongue off or try to at least. The immediate effect causes him to pull away and gargle out a sound a kin to a zombie grunting for food. I don’t give him time to think, he didn’t for me.

Ripping my hand from his, I buck as much unrepented rage and frustration his way when I swing an all-mighty slap across his cheek, the sound ringing in my ears and tingling my palm.

“You fucking prick.” I spit out.

Turning around, I climb out of the pool as furiously as I can.

Chapter Text

It’s the third day of nationals and I couldn’t be more fucked to care as my conflicted feelings consume me. Disappointed, ashamed, disgusted are some words I would describe myself; the rest are left spitting at Ushijima and his pubescent urges to drag me down with him.

I thought I was better than him, but I’m just as deprived, touch-starved and desperate for connection that I let him violate the lasting remains of my dignity. All I wanted to do was twist in my bedsheets and wait for them to suffocate me, but my duties burden me just as much as my regretful actions from yesterday loom over my shoulder.

He played me for a fool yet again.

My appreciation for his small acts of kindness sours at his lacklustre attempts to converse with me. I’m sure that my glares and grimaces don’t go unnoticed by the team, yet my motivations are abysmal, and their lack of response allows me some reprieve. I don’t even know how I’d respond if even Shirabu asked how I am. Right now, my eyes feel glassy, wet and threatening to spill. Fortunately, everyone’s attention is rapt by Coach Washijo and his damning uplifting speech before the game.

Nekoma vs Shiratorizawa.

The boys look pumped, some jittery from nerves or excitement I can’t quite tell, and I don’t really much care as I sag to the bench, ignoring the captains handshake. My gaze drifts between the court and the bleachers; the early morning matches are always as desolate as cities are at dawn and for a brief moment my untethered state of mind floats towards the exit and basks in the concrete jungle blocks.

The whistle screeches, and suddenly I’m drawn back in.

My movements are mechanical as I track their movements and note down points scored, and points missed but really, I watch the fluidity pouring out of Nekoma’s teamwork with child-like wonder. Captivated, I easily forgo my managerial duties and watch the astonishing achievement of Kuroo’s blocking skills against Ushijima’s spikes.

They’re brilliant and the blatant shock colouring Ushijima’s face is enough to rattle the team and satisfy the bitchy pettiness in me. Karma and her wondrous ways of biting back. Thankfully, my lack of remorse goes unnoticed by the coaches as they’re too busy grunting and easing forwards and clenching their fists in front of their faces as the team’s movements begin to pick-up speed.

The pacing is horrible, and their control is like sand slipping between their fingers, as the effect of Ushijima’s spike being blocked so seamlessly by Kuroo sets off a chain reaction that quickly dissolves Shirabu’s resolve. His one too many mistakes costs him a switch with Semi and a break that weighs him down into a pit of despair.

This is not good.

And with the out-of-practice setter, Semi very closely loses the first set from unpolished precision and heavy and high sets.

Coach Washijo gathers the team up for a short pep talk which I can imagine is going swimmingly with his spitting and threats of abandonment if they lose this now. Their faces grim and wounded, I just have enough time to hand out their bottles and get them a little juiced up before the second set. Coach mutters and hisses under his breath as Shirabu returns to court with a chip on his shoulder and the weight of the world on his back.

I worry my lip, watching them fumble around trying to crack through Nekoma’s seamless teamwork. Despite my research and uplifting efforts, I couldn’t find anything to break to the team about their current opponents faults. Sure, they’ll have screw-ups that’ll cost them points during a match, but pre-match flaws seem to have been stomped out of existence. Nekoma has no first years in rotation, the current team is a batch of second and third years with strong and deep ties.

Fuck!

“Coach, we need to have a time-out.” I whisper in his direction.

Over the thrall and cheer of the crowd, I’m surprised he hears me with his withering look of displeasure.

“No, the team will endure.” He says with the up-most finality.

But I press on, undeterred.

“Coach, we’re going to lose.” I watch his hands fist on his tracksuit bottoms.

He faces me for the first time during this match and scowls, snarling a reply, but I beat him to it.

“Something needs to change and with the way that things are going we won’t be able to do anything unless we put a stop to it now.” Raising my voice slightly gaining Coach Saito’s attention.

His concerned gaze flickers as he regards our hunched forms as Coach Washijo grounds his jaw and releases a disgruntled breath.

“Do you propose that I let them try something new?” He says as is he’s trying to sound sarcastic.

Honestly, I don’t think he can be with his serious scowl and his exhausting coaching that relies on foundation and building up.

Maybe, that is the thing that we all lack, being creative and finding new ways to out-manoeuvre seamless plays. Turning to face the team now, they’re crumbling under the pressure as Nekoma’s points begin to distance between ours.

“Yes. I think we should try something new.” I say honestly.

Coach thinks on this for a couple of moments before he flickers his gaze towards the court and begins to twitch.

“Mid-game?” Coach Washijo questions.

“Yes.” I answer quickly, not bothering to beat around the bush.

We simply don’t have that luxury.

Coach stares into the court, the boys are panting, scowling and throwing heated emotions before thought as they make more dumb plays than they ever have. He sighs and hangs his head over his lap.

“Fine. But if this goes wrong-”

“I know.” I really don’t.

I suspect I’ll be thrown from the team or reprimanded and abandoned in Tokyo. Whatever the case, the punishment is worth every second of it if we can grasp a smidgen of control back.

Coach Washijo stands and forms a ‘T’ with his hands, and the referee blows the whistle, signalling for a two-minute break to begin. The boys look more than startled to find Coach Washijo sneering into my periphery as they lumber off the court and towards us.

Being on the clock and not wanting to waste time, I get down to it, even if it means looking Ushijima in the eyes and drowning the feeling of punching him as he surveys the situation.

“Right. Shirabu, I want you to calm the fuck down and listen. You’re going to set to Tendou when you have sent four to Ushijima, not three, four.” Shirabu scowls as he begins to interrupt, but time is of the essence, and I have much to discuss.

“Semi, you’re coming in for a pinch serve, make it fucking count. This is only practice, drown out the noise, breathe and let the ball fly.” I do the motions as if I’m in yoga and centring myself amongst the surrounding chaos.

Semi flinches and nods resolutely, the exertion obviously getting to him.

“Ushijima…” A flicker of surprise crosses through his eyes as he looks to me.

There is so much that I want to say to him, but the time isn’t right, and this isn’t the place to have it out. The team needs him as their anchor and driving force, now more than ever.

“I’m sure being blocked isn’t your first rodeo nor your last. Endure and win!” I say lastly as the whistle goes, and the boys are called back onto the court.

I don’t watch Ushijima, I turn to Nekoma’s side, their setter, and captain converse before his eyes land onto me, so, cat-like and cunning no wonder they make it to nationals every year with him as their setter. Well, holding onto the technicality that it’s only been a year since he’s now a second year and Nekoma has always been a powerhouse school for many years.

Despite all that a miracle births on the court as Shirabu heeds my advice and plays as if he’s in top form and had not just been swimming with guilt two minutes ago. He sends the ball to Ushijima like planned, making him a decoy is an obvious move but creating a standard of more than three allows a false sense of security to take over. Tendou is in the back but his long limbs and jumping prowess is no course for concern as his turn is shortly coming up.

After this, if, no, when we get a point Semi will be switched in and his chance to shine will finally come into fruition minus his little screw-up from earlier as a stand-in setter. He can make up for that and more.

I watch with bated breath as three out of the four spikes from Ushijima cross over the net, but only two of those three give us a footing to stand on. We’re still behind, but not by much with the additional points scored and the unanimous calm breathing through all of them. They can do this.

Shirabu flickers a glance to Tendou, the tell is obvious as he readies himself for the play, Tendou moves a step forward, another tell that screams suspicious and Nekoma moves as one. Of course, they would see through it. Tendou spiking isn’t out of the norm but doing a pipe from that distance after having sent four consecutive sets to Ushijima does, in hindsight, appear suspicious.

But a chance is all we need.

Flukes are a way of life and sometimes a miracle occurs when we least expect it. That is whenever this rally will come to an end, after Tendou successfully spikes, Nekoma’s number three intercepts the ball and sends it to the setter. Fortunately, the boys are hardy gits and once they set their minds to something there is little else to deter them.

“This is going on for far too long.” Coach mutters, his expression grim.

I couldn’t agree more, but there is little else we can do as both teams begin to exhaust themselves over a five-minute rally.

But I’m not thinking right now especially when Coach Washijo stands from his seat and bellows, “STOP MUCKING ABOUT AND PUSH THROUGH!”

Of course, a few heads turn our way, but all of our focus follows the ball as in if in slow-motion the ball ricochets from number six at an odd but high angle that their number four instinctively chances at. Muscle memory, the right amount of pressure and distraction is a perfect recipe for misfortune as he forgets to recognise the perfect free man block crusading through his path.

The ball bounces off and down like a firing canon.

The much-needed point starts a chain reaction that courses throughout all our veins as Shiratorizawa climbs back on top earning the second set.

The third set is just as horrendous as the first two as they battle it out in a frenzy and just like the first set Nekoma is the one to hit sixteen points first.

I take a glance at Coach Washijo as he finishes muttering with Coach Saito, and he holds my gaze as the boys flock around us again. I guess my thoughts are needed now more than ever.

“Slow down, this isn’t a race. When you stop thinking you start losing and that’s what they want, they know how to rile you up, don’t let them.” Some guys frown, but I choose to ignore them when I move onto the most crucial part.

“I want you all to keep marching forward, I know you’re all exhausted, but so are they. I want those in front to start doing time differentiation spikes and worry less about blocks and more so on getting the ball to the ground.” I say, praying that they understand my meaning.

By no means am I a religious freak, but I do hope and pray to the volleyball gods from time to time, and I dearly hope that a miracle happens sooner rather than later. This constant stream of blockades and receives are driving us all up the wall. The boys run into their reserves as their perfect forms begin to slip, but they still hold the line and attack as ferociously as before.

Semi switches in and Tendou out. He enters the court again as a pinch server, the crowd is as ever wild and loud as before yet the calm focus surrounding him blankets out the noise as he delivers his end of the deal. A no-touch serve, however, the next one gets dug up by Nekoma’s number six and the ball flies towards the setter and then to their number four. It is high, flashy, and powerful as it rebounds off Ohira’s arm and towards the back, fortunately, Yamagata is there digging up the ball towards Ushijima. Unfortunately, the set is low and shaky, and Ushijima doesn’t spike well under those conditions but chases after it anyway, hungry for victory.

Holding my breath, I watch Ushijima power through the unforgiving set with the ease and calm of a seasoned athlete and not a struggling student crumbling under the pressure. His striking spiking form is insane, hanging in the air as if he’s frozen in time. This is bad, I’m beginning to feel my resolve slipping. Ushijima scores earning the team a much-needed headway between Nekoma, the gap is small but only grows as Ohira jumps up spiking a chance ball that skims over number sixes arm.

In a matter of seconds, the game intensifies.

Shirabu’s calm and collected faux nature holds out as he automatically sets to Ushijima again despite a systematic response of a three-man block. I don’t even know if Ushijima senses the urgency vibrating off coach or the drumming crowd as he surges forwards with a fire in his belly. A dismissive force barrels into the blockade and shatters through.

There’s a beat of silence.

My ears pop and my heart lunges as everyone and myself included jump with joy, screaming at the top of our lungs.

We won.

Punching into the air as the whistle blows and the team bow and shake hands.

I’m buzzing so much that when the team arrive around coach, I jump into the nearest available arms. My surroundings quickly remind me of what I’m doing, and a giant shudder cascades down my spine when I realise just who I’ve pounced. Ushijima. I’m such a fucking idiot. Quickly extricating myself, I pivot and try my best to ignore his heated gaze as I return to coach’s side again.

Nothing happened.

It was just a lapse of judgement. Adrenaline and poor placement.

It’s nothing.

“As expected, you pushed through. As you all know, matches aren’t won on miracles alone, but in this case, you have your manager to thank for her quick thinking.” Coach Washijo turns and smiles at me.

That bit of genuine praise is enough to set me adrift, despite my sea legs and seasickness carrying on from last night's fiasco.

In unison, the boys bow to me, and another wave of unease unsteadies me. Which is bizarre considering my input is exactly why I’m here.

“Oh, right, yes. You did good.” My stilted reply makes me wince even as I pick up the water bottle bag and slink away.

The morning matches carry into midday as the boys ensure they’re not running down too much that the afternoon match will jump-scare them into a panicked state.

But looking after twenty plus boys in a massive stadium will surely send me to an early grave. At least the third years remain together high in the bleachers, chatting and snacking as they watch Fukurodani defeat their opponent. My feud with Ushijima prevents me from further making a fool out of myself by going up there and sitting with them. It shouldn’t be this way, making it a bigger thing than it actually is.

Hanging my head low to my chest, I push back from the railing and careen into a sturdy shoulder. Alert, I turn to face Sakusa and his crew.

“No way! I heard that you were back, but I couldn’t believe it when I overheard the guys say-” Komori pounces my personal space as if he’s diving into a swimming pool.

Thankfully, Sakusa reins him in.

“You will go sit up there so me and Y/n-chan can catch up.” He seethes through his mask, pointedly glaring at every member of his team.

His team wolf whistles and catcalls as they turn to the other side of the bleachers, away from my team.

Alone and very much aware of two scorching eyes. I turn my back to the railing as I face Sakusa.

He removes his mask the second he’s alone.

“I’m sorry about your parents, but I’m happy that you’re here.” I can’t help the snort that comes out of me, even if I tried.

Fuck me, have I missed his frankness.

“Same.” I reply a little too quickly and wince once I digest his words properly.

“I mean, yeah, it sucks. They’re just two very different people that fell in love, and it took them a while to realise that they’re too different from one another. At least I get two of everything from now on.” I shrug, at peace with my family situation.

Looking back on it now, my parents have always been separated, but now they’ve just put a label on it. Growing up, dad wasn’t always present, and mum struggled in her loneliness, children may fill a hole, but it doesn’t fill the hole for romantic love from your other half.

Yeah, I think I’m okay, considering I broke apart the week before I left for Japan. What a time to break the obvious news of divorce to your kid that’s just beginning her career.

“I…” Sakusa starts and stops and then grimaces.

A burst of laughter from me causes him to flush. Which is cute.

“I’m sorry, but you look constipated. It’s okay, besides, I’m more concerned that you never contacted me. What gives?” I shake my head, trying to resist the urge to squeeze his cheek.

“Some pig stole my phone and once I got it back everything was wiped.” He sighs, crossing his arms over the railing.

“Shit. Fucking bastards.” Muttering under my breath, my eyes on the game.

He doesn’t question my vulgarity, unlike others.

“Well, there’s no time like any to fix that.” Unzipping my jersey, I retrieve my phone from the inner pocket and hand it to him.

For a moment, Sakusa stares at the screen until he switches back on and inputs his number. Once back in my hands, I quickly send him a cheeky, innocent message and return it back against my breast.

After that we both sit in the comfortable silence of each other, Sakusa never being a talker, and the light of a room helps ease the tension from my shoulders. The burning on my right side never quenches, and I doubt Sakusa to question Ushijima’s weird behaviour when they’re both equally bad as each other.

But Sakusa does surprise me sometimes, and today seems to be that day.

“He has it bad, huh.” He breaks the ice easily, pointing out the elephant in the room.

I sigh, scrunching up into a bundled, frustrated knot when that shitty kiss flickers in front of my eyes.

Ushijima doesn’t have it bad for me, if anything it’s hormones that he’s never dealt with before.

“I don’t think he has anything.” I grumble out, picking my nails.

Sakusa turns facing the bleachers and hides everything as he nods to my boys, Ushijima’s burning gaze still lingers on my profile a bit harder.

“Everything Ushijima-san does is with intention.” He comments, dragging his gaze back to me to assert his point home.

I want to punch him for being right, but I’m not ready to accept that reality just yet.

It’s easier to blindly believe that he’s horny and selfish when it’s his inexperience that I’m blaming and hating on. Fucking hell.

“He hasn’t put much thought into some of the things he’s done in the past couple of days.” I say more to myself than to Sakusa as he checks his watch and his team to his left.

“He’s off his game, and I’m not talking about volleyball.” Sakusa re-applies his mask back into place as a rush of people filter into the hall.

Unable to say anything to that, I bring him into an awkward side hug. Sakusa stiffens but doesn’t push me away as I crowd his space.

“Thanks for the advice. I’ll see you on the court.” I smile, patting his arm before pulling away towards my team.

Their incredulous looks and connecting eyes to the railing and back to me tells me that my audience wants to publicly review what they’ve just watched. I deflate a few rows down from them and unravel my onigiri as a last-ditch effort to fill my small appetite.

Eventually, the afternoon matches begin.

Itachiyama vs Shiratorizawa.

I watch the entire thing rapt with fascination at Sakusa’s polished skills and flexible wrists proving to be a nasty trump card against our blockers but also with the team. A fire was lit inside Ushijima in the last game, and it seems that same fire caught with the rest of them as they play like gladiators in the colosseum.

Unfortunately, like all the fighters in the colosseum, our fight wasn’t in the cards. Ushijima especially staggered off the court, weary enough to shake hands and maintain composure, but the minute we all headed back to the gym he began to collapse.

“Easy there.” Grunting, I pick up on his left side as he balances his right hand against the wall.

Sweat, heat and exertion bead off him in excess. He heaves as if he’s ran a marathon, and I wouldn’t blame him for it. That last set was intense. A constant, never-ending rally with a barrage of Sakusa’s nasty spinning spikes. Yamagata and Ohira are on similar jelly-legs at Ushijima as they all crawl to the changing room.

Ushijima doesn’t thank me for helping nor say anything as Coach Saito picks up from where I left off as he helps him into the room.

Twiddling my thumbs, I sit with my bags, and the water bottle bag by my feet when I notice two pairs of trainers that I don’t recognise standing a few feet away. Looking up, I’m surprised to find Bokuto and an unfamiliar face smiling and glaring down at me.

Immediately, I’m on the defensive.

“Got a problem?” I muster enough antagonistic energy to ward off evil as the glaring face flushes and looks the other way.

Bokuto breaks out into a boisterous fit of laughter, smacking his friend on the back and bringing the mood up to his level, despite my shitty feeling from the initial loss and my tumultuous heart.

“Akaashi, you’ve gone all red.” Bokuto ruffles the poor boy's hair before settling his palm against the back of his neck. Possessively.

That’s interesting.

Dragging my eyes back to his face, I realise that I have seen him before when I watched them pass me in the hallway back on day one. He’s the second-year setter and tamer of Bokuto’s rumbustious hot and cold nature.

“I’m sorry, when I heard that Bokuto wanted me to meet his girl… friend, I didn’t think.” Akaashi stops.

He looks to Bokuto and then to me. Oh. It’s like that is it.

“Eh, what porkpies have you been telling, Bokuto?” Pointing my finger at him, I relax back onto the bench, my spine stiffening against the cold wall.

Bokuto’s cheeks bloom red.

“Akaashi!” He wails, looking between us both, torn.

“I haven’t I swear, Y/n-chan. The guys just misunderstood.” He quickly adds, a near step away from talking gibberish.

Akaashi’s endearing subtle smile has my heart crinkling with joy and more embarrassed the longer I stare.

“Sure.” I reply belatedly, rolling my eyes.

Bokuto all but withers into a prune and Akaashi and me, burst into a fit of laughter.

Just then, the boy's changing room door opens.

Together the team arrive at my station, somehow, rejuvenated and haggard all the same. Ushijima takes one look at my easy-going posture and gleeful expression, and scowls. Great, back to the cold shoulder, are we?

Alarmed, Akaashi pushes his shoulders back and straightens into Bokuto’s hand.

“Well, it’s been lovely seeing you acting all cute for me.” I blow them both a kiss.

Shooting a look back to the team, my eyes striking Ushijima’s menacing glare. He lances forwards and yanks hard onto my wrist until I fall back against his chest like a damsel in distress.

Nervous laughter flitter out as then he turns and storms out of the gymnasium, taking me with him.

I did shoot myself in the foot with that one, and I’m not completely mad at him for removing me from the situation as he did. Having his hands on me is a brand in and of itself. The queasy, fluttery feeling in my tummy isn’t as unwelcomed as I led myself to believe. Yeah, I’m fucked, but so what, I was fucked from day one.

Chapter Text

Ushijima Pov

It seems even in rest I am not free from these damning thoughts. My thoughts and my actions aren’t connecting as they once were, which before had never been an issue, despite my team’s reservations. I have no string of doubt that this is just a phase passing through me as any other tedious growing pains.

My early teenage years proved difficult at times, when I allowed my overeager companions to cajole me into joining their unsupervised visits, watching vulgar adult movies and passing magazines around like trophies. My interest is always the court, but my curiosity piqued from their hushed conversations and shared funny looks.

It was then that I felt the alien feeling that I have harboured for the team’s manager since I have met her. The feeling didn’t start as immoral and lecherous as it is now. Before, I was curious; dad had told me to meet new people and grow, but her differences were too stark. She is not like me or my peers. Curiosity caught me again as it did when I was a young lad and despite my reservations and moral ties, I allowed myself the indulgence.

I see now that was a mistake.

I should have never got close to her nor sought her out and want. Behaving like a spoiled child, misunderstanding the concept of possession. When my thoughts are entangled with urges that I have no wisdom to take from and a confused moral compass going haywire when I see her surrounded by others.

Who could take her from the team.

My chest has been feeling heavier over the last couple of days, nationals always calls for the epitome of health and a composed mind, yet my recall of certain moments are unclear. The Itachiyama match was unlike any other. They are tough opponents with equally strong players and polished skills built on a rich foundation of nurturing guidance and hunger for more. My own hunger during that match intensified, but not for the reason that I would have expected.

Sakusa Kiyoomi, an exceptional athlete that has respectable manners and a soon-to-be teammate on the under-nineteens representative for Japan for the Youth World Championship. He’s a good friend and someone I value, but the antagonistic fire stoked within me when I saw him embrace her coloured my vision every time I spiked. I saw his face on the ball and hit harder more than necessary, I’m unaware if the others noticed and from the sleepy murmurings around me, I have the temporary peace to sort out my jumbled state of mind.

L/n chose to sit away from me, I wanted her next to me like she was on the way in, the way her body easily slipped under mine and fitted perfectly. Looking down onto my lap, confused and annoyed that my innocent thoughts has left me feeling hotter and harder than I did in the swimming pool.

My nails dig into the edge of the armrests as I ease my lower-half forward and slightly spread my thighs, easing the tension building in my groin. My behaviour is wrong, surrounded by so many and acting on inner feelings around my close friends does dampen the hold my desires have on me. Mother would surely wither and reprimand my behaviour if she was here, but as I look out the window, seeing only myself in the reflection, I take a small amount of satisfaction that I am alone.

It is unbecoming of a gentleman.

I haven’t been feeling much like one lately, as my salacious urges manifest by each coming day.

I hope by tomorrow this fever breaks and I can return to myself again.

Tomorrow morning, I find myself on the court doing overhead single sets and spiking drills into the wall. My precision faltering alongside my frustration that I did not wake miraculously cured, and the thought of being without it similarly leaves me lost and empty, as it does to constantly feel confused.

I shouldn’t be practising today. There is scientific evidence to support rest days in an athlete's regiment, yet volleyball is the only place where I feel at ease. This morning’s run was cut short when I felt the fatigue hit harder and faster than normal, but my mind feels alive, churning on thoughts of L/n.

She hasn’t spoken to me since yesterday, and that was out of duty and consideration. My exhaustion clouded my mind, and I was unable to converse with her, apologise for my misbehaviour. My normalcy has been irregular for some time now that when it inevitably returns, I’ll be at a lost.

“Wakatoshi-kun!” Tendou’s voice disrupts my rhythm, causing the ball to land onto my face.

Heavy metal shrieks open and within moments I’m surrounded by my friends.

“Wakatoshi-kun, are you okay?” Yamagata pushes my bangs out of the way and hisses.

Ohira’s eyes widen and looks towards Semi, a look that I’ve come to understand means concern.

“I’m confused.” I realise he meant my physical health, but my brain-to-mouth filter has never been exemplary. 

Their immediate lack of reaction causes tension to fret in my shoulders. The knot in my chest bottoms out, and I feel the weightless tug of an anchor sinking beneath my feet.

“Eh, Wakatoshi-kun, about what?” Tendou broaches, slinging his arm across my shoulders and leaning into my side.

The physical touch is comfortable and not a distraction from my thoughts.

I have thought about convening with him on this matter. He’s an expert on the matter of the heart from all the manga he’s read. Shirabu was also a prime contender since he’s on a college career course to be a doctor, but I believe my symptoms have surpassed the physical.

I look at them, knowing that there are no judgements amongst us.

“We kissed. Me and L/n-san.” I say, remembering the sweet moment vividly.

A long and unnecessary pause beats out between them.

Then as if they had all just won a match against a strong thrilling opponent, they grapple each other into a dog pile. My shoulders bunch as I’m unsteadily shook from Tendou’s enthusiasm and Yamagata’s disbelief. Ohira parts the two away and stands to my right where his pride buffs out of his chest and softly smiles. The gesture is warm and soothing.

Their sudden change in behaviour is not unusual as the years have grown by, I have become accustomed to their antics and endearments.

“I am happy for you. But you don’t seem to be yourself.” Ohira comments, squeezing my shoulder before casting a look to Tendou and Yamagata.

Semi and Yamagata pointedly stare at Tendou, but he shrugs, and they sigh, their frustrations audible.

“I think I messed up.” I say, the tightness in my chest extinguishing with every word.

“She wasn’t happy with me, nor the kiss.” The moment searing clear in my mind as I performed the intimate gesture.

Her lips were indeed soft, and her body arched against mine was even softer.

“Ah-hah.” Tendou snaps his fingers, jostling into my side again.

The others wearily watch on, intrigued as they are concerned. Tendou can be unpredictable, which serves the team successfully on the court, but not so much off.

“Poor Wakatoshi-kun, is just a late bloomer.” Tendou states, patting my back as my dad has done when I was a child.

“I don’t remember you ever having a girlfriend before.” Semi mutters, rolling his eyes.

“You aren’t so popular yourself.” Ohira quips, smirking.

With each deviating comment, my interest piques with the direction of the conversation as I’m pulled along, uncertain where we’ll land.

“Pfft, I’ll have you know I have fans too.” Semi waves off.

“Look, how well that turned out for Wakatoshi-kun.” Yamagata adds, gesturing towards me.

I stare back at them.

“Guys, let’s not forget why we’re here. Wakatoshi-kun is just a bad kisser, who can blame him.” Tendou says, alleviating the tension.

“L/n-chan.” Semi replies, nodding his head.

The others shake theirs.

“Well, our dear manager has had boyfriends to teach her.” Tendou says, proving his point.

She’s had an ex-boyfriend. I don’t doubt that she’s had multiple, from her beauty to her skills on the court, I admit she is the optimal choice for a life partner.

“I’m not kissing any of you.” Semi states suddenly, guarding his chest.

“Don’t be such a spoil sport.” Tendou pouts, pushing away from me as he stalks towards Semi.

The latter instantly tenses, intrigued, the rest of us watch.

“Tendou-kun, I swear, I’m not joking – ngnhhh.” Semi yelps as Tendou wraps his arm around his waist and yanks him towards him.

The action reminiscent of how I behaved with L/n.

“Semi-semi, if we don’t practice, how will we learn.” Tendou’s voice changes, exaggerating his words and pronunciations.

Semi blanches, incredulous fear striking.

He opens his mouth to respond, but is consumed by Tendou. His mouth slants over his and Semi’s cheek hollow as a flush of surprise widens through his eyes. Tendou manoeuvres Semi’s head by his hand that’s made its way through Semi’s hair.

“Damn.” Yamagata starts, sharing a glance between us.

Their gazes are fixed on the sudden kiss. I wet my lips remembering the feeling of L/n’s soft lips against mine and I wonder whether Tendou’s are the same for Semi. He has always been big about his hygiene and many of the others followed suit as a means to attract girls, I wasn’t interested but kept up my own personal hygiene care.

Tendou’s towering form and long limbs cage Semi in his embrace, and for a time Semi remains motionless, something which reminds me of L/n. She didn’t respond to me, but as I watch Semi become responsive, doubt sets in.

“Wakatoshi-kun.” Ohira calls, tearing my eyes away from the duo.

Ohira stands a breadth away from me, his gaze serious yet soft as his hand slides up cupping my cheek, a shiver runs through me when his other hand plants onto my neck and his lips are on mine. For a brief moment, my mind blanks until I feel the press of firm lips against my equally firm ones.

Ohira moves with a slow, curious grace that I agreeably lacked with L/n. My spiking heart rate and blanking mind is the same, yet the two scenarios couldn’t be further from the truth. I’m a mere passenger as Ohira slants his lips over mine, sucking on my lower lip, the tip of his tongue slathering across it, the feeling is not as unpleasant as I expected.

He pulls away, breathing softly against my nose.

“Now, this is how you kiss with tongue.” He states, manoeuvring his mouth to mine again.

Despite the slight height difference between us, Ohira manages to overwhelm my senses with his curious but confident exploration of my mouth. My tongue is idle and recedes at the intrusion, but freezes when I feel his twirl and suck on mine. The feeling is both exquisite and gross. I feel his saliva seep into my mouth, his hands hooking my face in place, and the tip of his tongue grazing against the roof of my mouth.

I shudder a groan when he sucks there.

“Shit, now that’s hot.” I hear Yamagata say from afar.

My thoughts exactly, as I begin to focus on the feeling of being kissed like this, as if I’m slowly being devoured. No wonder, Semi all but melted into Tendou’s embrace as another shiver starts at the base of my spine and an all-knowing heat expands from my groin.

If this is how I feel from being kissed like that, then it is my mistake for not fulfilling her pleasures. There is no doubt in my mind that my lack of knowledge and experience is the sole reason for L/n’s anger.

Moments later, we break breathless and equally flushed as I find my hand fisting his collar and the other cupping the back of his head.

“Wowie, Wakatoshi-kun, now that’s what I call a kiss.” Tendou chuckles, albeit hoarsely.

My eyes are on the man in front of me.

“You should kiss L/n-san that way.” Ohira grunts, retracting himself from me, his flush fading.

I nod before casting a glance towards Yamagata his eyes flitting around the group. Ohira sighs and yanks him towards him, I hear him yelp as I start towards the gymnasium doors. Satisfied from my intimate education, I make a start on locating my manager.

Reader Pov

I honestly cannot believe that I was expected to show up to class today. After spending three days in Tokyo and only getting back to the dorms later in the evening, I was irrevocably unprepared to wake at the ass-crack of dawn and be mentally well enough to compute anything more than gibberish. Sure, there’s no practice today, even Satan knows there are limits that his boys can’t surpass, yet the school board is a different beast entirely.

Being lectured by the principle after missing morning roll-call and being a no-show for three consecutive periods isn’t exactly how I would have spent my morning. I had a date with my pillow, and now I’ll have to do the rudest thing as push it back until much later in the day, as I’m too busy mucking out the stables.

There’s people for this.

On my nth sigh I realise two things: my inexplicable fear of large animals is still a thing and that the Japanese school system is bloody genius. The two conclusions couldn’t be further apart but arrive at a satisfactory end. I always thought all pretentious rich people were horse people, but when I was nine, I was unceremoniously bucked off the back of a donkey after tugging too harshly at its mane. My limited fascination with them stops at TV and cinema, where their moose-like sizes and murderous nature is hidden behind the lens.

I always thought that school's lack of utilisation of detention was a lack of foresight and rubbish backyard politics to please asshole parents, but here there’s none of that. Detention is seen as another way to give back to the school, especially for students that slack off on their duties or try to earn brownie points with their teachers. No amount of boot licking will get anyone extra-credit when the entire system is built upon trust and respect. In comparison to the states where kids can’t even be trusted to go to the toilet by themselves, but then again, gun violence is at an all-time high.

Tentatively, I slowly weave around the tied-up horse as I wheel out the wheelbarrow and muck bucket. The giant horse barely snickers in my direction, and I can’t help the flinch that rolls through me as if I’ve just stepped into moving traffic. Thank my lucky stars that the animal techs are still around keeping an eye out as I move past the other stables, politely smile and nod towards the other students that had been dealt a similar hand.

At least some appear to be enjoying this.

The summer heat is beginning to roll in fast and as the approaching holiday period causes a ruckus amongst the student body. Gossip about the upcoming summer festival that I’ll sadly miss and holidaying locations for the well-off students that have no financial worries whatsoever.

I would laugh if I wasn’t already being shipped off to another country in a few days in order to catch up with practice and reintegrate with my old teammates. Dad despite his professional career and money that can put movie stars to shame has taught all of us humbleness and frugal behaviours however, I was never without luxury and the privileges that he brought to the family.

Thinking of him now, I won’t be seeing him when I return due to his prior commitments in Brazil to offer the opportunity to kids to train under a professional. Which is one of the reasons I love and hate about him, his passion for the sport reaches so many people yet his commitments to others, my mother, is blind sided and becomes secondary to his priorities.

I try to take as much guidance as I can from him as possible. I want stability when I eventually go professional, but I also understand the compromise needed from my other half. Not only that, but I would never put them in a position of loneliness whilst I sprint towards my dreams, and especially not with kids.

Dumping the contents of the wheelbarrow into the muck heap and heading to the shed, I’m startled at the approach of a certain determined volleyball captain. Unlike me, the boys were given the day off, exempted from classes due to their fatigue as the principle so kindly pointed out to me as if I hadn’t endured the same during the three days away.

I nearly cried and then killed him for the hypocrisy.

Alas, my fatigue prevented me from going forward with my plans, but now I’m awake and fully capable of breaking a leg or two if it means putting any distance between Ushijima and me. Honestly, I don’t understand why he bothers with me any more nor why I bother caring, but my traitorous heart leaps out of my chest and races towards him like a cowering puppy needing her wounds to be licked.

Turning away, I do my best to ignore his large presence cratering in my periphery and follow through towards the shed and bask in the short relief of washing my hands in the cold water.

“Y/n.” his strong baritone voice stokes a raging fire in my belly.

I am a strong woman.

“I have reflected on my past actions and come to a conclusion.” Ushijima begins, and I resolutely ignore him to the best of my ability.

I don’t take bullshit from men.

“Can I kiss you?”

I don’t need their affections too-

“What did you just say?” The speed in which my head snapped to his almost caused me whiplash.

In the span of mere moments, Ushijima has silently weaselled his way to me until his chest is centimetres away from mine. His large presence has become devouring as he casts me in his shadow, and his strong facial features make him appear hauntingly arousing to look at.

“That I’m going to kiss you.” He adds, reaffirming my beliefs on his bastardly behaviour.

He gives me all of three seconds to digest his answer before he’s on me again. The force of the attack backs me up against the shed wall, his obstructive presence caging me beneath.

His hands elicit shivers down my spine as they grasp the base of my neck and thread into my hair.

The position, angle and slant of his lips on mine take me off-key as the surprise of being kissed with intention strings me up in free fall. The firm yet soft pressure of his lips part and suck to my bottom lip. Ushijima slathers his tongue across it, both curiously tasting me and inviting himself inside with the confidence of an experienced kisser.

Where is the boy that puckered his lips to mine and clenched so hard that his constipation almost drowned me.

I feel captivated by his embrace. My heart lurching out of my chest, all thoughts pushed out of my mind as I simply bask in the electrifying wonder of being kissed. Darren might have been my first real relationship, but I’ve kissed a few frogs before and after him since and none come close to being kissed by someone who sees only you in a room full of people.

Eventually, we both part flushed and panting.

I level some restraint to stop myself from pouncing on him like some bloody cat in heat. The soothing calmness that washes over me brings back a bit of my rational thinking but not by much.

“What… what was that for?” I ask, looking up at him to find his stony expression back again.

It’s always hot and cold with him.

His shoulders rise almost bunching until they flat out fall, and his towering frame becomes reminiscent of a drooping flower in the sun.

It almost makes me feel bad for him, but then I remember he’s jumped me twice now, and all those pitiful feelings die a long-suffering death.

“My practice paid off. It felt much better with you once understanding the pleasures of the mouth.” He puts as if explaining his science experiment.

“Wait, you kissed someone else?” My blood boiling, I grimace at the image of some unknown person kissing what’s mine.

Mine? As if.

“Yes.” Ushijima replies honestly, opening his gob again to say more.

Personally, this very moment couldn’t have been more refreshing than realising that you’re unique and special presence in one’s unattached life is neither all encompassing nor special when anyone is replaceable. Shivering with this sudden realisation I stop him with my raised palm and try to gather and form the words that I should have respected in myself a long time ago.

“We need to stop.” The conviction stinging us both where it hurts the most.

His brows furrow as if he doesn’t understand because of course, he doesn’t he’s a naïve fool expecting me to play ball as his sex doll to use and abuse whenever he so pleases.

“You need to stop. I’m not an object you can use however you see fit, and I certainly don’t take kindly to being kissed without my consent.” I start wincing at my own hypocrisy.

“I know I have trodden the line between wanted and unwanted behaviour before but this,” I gesture between us.

“You coming onto me one moment and then being a stranger the next is cruel. You’re messing me up, and I know you’re going through some self-discovery moment right now, but I can’t be that person for you.” My words feel hoarse in my throat as I barely hear them from the pounding in my head.

Ushijima takes this like a champ, silently holding out as he always does give nothing away to those around him. Even me.

“I won’t be a guinea pig for you to grope. I just won’t.” I say gulping down the lump of coal in stuck in my throat.

The dry bitter taste seems to soak up all my tears breathing deeply trying to muster up the courage to walk away, but I know if I do without ending this then that flare of hope will always be there. Dragging me down to these depths that even I know I won’t be able to escape from again.

“I can’t be that person for you.” I repeat, stepping away from him and his unmoving face.

The coldness of it leaching out onto me.

 “I think we both need to step back and take a long look at ourselves and ask, ‘what the fuck am I doing?’” I said feeling my heart crumble in irreparable ways.

“Maybe when we have the answer we can talk.” I nod, frowning and holding back the spill bubbling up my throat.

I feel like a swollen pimple about to burst.

Moving away from him, taking the long road back in hopes that when I return to the dorm I’m somewhat composed to not shatter when Himari asks, ‘how I am?’. I feel the well of tears just imagining it, fuck, this was supposed to be nothing but a tease yet here I am finding myself burned.

It wasn’t that deep; it was never anything special.

My first heartbreak didn’t feel as bad as this but then again, I didn’t become emotionally invested in Mr. Darcy I was just in love with his relationship with Elizabeth. The swoon-worthy nature and passionate taboo of it all really hooked me in as a young girl and taught me that fiction may never be real but will always be there to make you feel like it is. The few crushes between felt like I was spinning a lie and was relieved when it came to an end. Darren’s infidelity was gut-punching when I thought I loved him, I was willing to see past his shitty behaviour and past actions, but I never felt seen by him, just used.

Ushijima should be no different. It’s obvious he never liked me on a deeper level, from day one he was trying to get rid of me. Sure, he saw my athletic ability and value that I brought as a manager to the team, but anyone could see that.

He saw the foulness of my mind and – I can’t say he wasn’t disgusted and made me feel unwelcomed when he was the one to bring me back in a rather unorthodox way. He let me be despite his reservations and cultural differences, he let me push, and I let him push back until I began to fall.

I can’t linger on the past, or I’ll get trapped in the meanings and what ifs. What happened is in the past for a reason, and any mistake I made into thinking that my perverted management would fruit any fortune is something I’ll have to deal with alone.

I have bigger fish to fry.

I’m all caught up in my head that when I eventually arrive to my dormitory door, I don’t notice the white carrier bag hanging off the knob. Taking my keys out I grab for the handle and for just brief, but decades long seconds I felt a wet stickiness congeal all over my palm. Stunned I look down gaping at the all-too familiar white good coating my skin, I retch, dry heaving until I notice the bag.

It's hanging in a way as if it’s filled with water but appears to have something inside it as well.

From my fumbling or sound of retching, the front door swings open and a bundled-up Himari furrows her brows and assesses me. Only when she swings the door open fully does she understand why.

“What the fuck?” She exclaims.