Chapter Text
At age fifteen, Yachi Hitoka is unsure about many things.
Being a jumpy and jittery person by nature, she tends to overthink everything; as in literally everything.
She has trouble making up her mind about whether two starry pins clipping her bangs out of her face is too much or just right enough, and has much less of an idea about what she wants to do in the future.
Every day it feels as if she risks premature cardiac arrest.
Point being, and here she has to interrupt her overactive imagination once again, Yachi Hitoka has this thing about being unable to make just about any decision.
From what she'll wear, to what she'll eat, to which novel she wants to read next, Hitoka is indecisive - it's probably her main personality trait.
One of the few things she is sure, 100% positive about, is that she does not want to be involved in a school club. While encouraged, after-school clubs are not mandatory at Karasuno High School like they were in most schools.
She would be lying if she said that hadn't influenced her choice for High School at least a little.
Hitoka had long decided she wanted no part in the budding friendships over ice creams or the heartfelt encouragements from upperclassmen that came with club activities.
None of it.
So pray tell, Hitoka wants to slap herself silly or go hide in a hole and never come back to the surface, why in the world am I heading for volleyball practice?!
She's stupid, that's why, so undeniably stupid! Curse her weakness for pretty people, curse Shimizu-senpai and her ridiculously good looks, curse her weak will, and curse this world's twisted sense of humor-
"I'm so glad you accepted," the older girl smiles, and Hitoka thinks she might cry.
"Since the school year started three months ago, most people have already found an after-school activity," she doesn't dare look once more at the beautiful upperclassman, staring down at her feet instead as she follows Shimizu down the halls, "Those who haven't get intimidated by the guys' rowdiness, but I swear they're all very welcoming and kind."
(sweaty palms messing up her hair, the regular shenanigans-)
She knows that fierce protective streak, that steely look in Kiyoko's eyes that screams of my team, my boys.
Her frantic thoughts come to a sudden halt, and for a second, it's like the world itself pauses.
Oh, a voice in her mind echoes, oh, that's familiar.
Stupidly, she wants to admit that she gets it; the rowdiness, the hopelessness that comes with being on the bench, all of it.
The petite girl's expression sharpens suddenly, inexplicably, "I may not look like it, Shimizu-senpai," she says carefully, "But I know just how hard taking care of a team of teenage boys is. It's not an easy task even if they are as kind as you say they are."
I know you don't have it easy, Hitoka almost blurts, and something in her aches at the influx of unwanted memories that hits her like a slap to the face.
Because she remembers the term manager being written in her file, others somehow reading accessory. Because dedication is only sometimes appreciated and teenage boys are a hassle - whatever the school, whatever the sport.
Brains and beauty make for a deadly combination, and Shimizu Kyoko is more observant than Hitoka gave her credit for at first glance, "So you have prior experience?"
"Uh, well no...not as a volleyball team manager, no," Yachi feels like a cornered animal that has just fallen into a trap.
Bugger.
The beautiful third-year looks profoundly amused at her kouhai's nervous stammering, and the mole on the left side of her chin curves along the edges of her smile, "What sport then?"
"Basketball," Yachi's face pinches, and Kyoko drops the subject just as they reach the team's gymnasium.
From the look of it, practice had already started a while ago ; volleyballs were everywhere on the ground, some of the boys practicing their spikes and received while others cheered loudly, "Nice one Noya!"
("Dammit Tetsu!" a voice higher pitched than the first cuts through the constant rhythm of running shoes, of basketballs slamming on the polished floor)
"Eh? You found another person!?" the loud exclamation earns her the boys’ undivided attention, numerous pairs of eyes landing on her.
The sudden attention makes Hitoka squeal against her better judgment, even when she tries to steady on, to let nothing show.
Yeah, she's never been any good at that.
"E-eep!" her face pales when those in the gym all stalk closer, eyes proding at her.
No, she tells herself not for the first time today, no way! I'll refuse Shimizu-senpai's offer after today's practice. It's only polite...
"She's here on a trial basis to be manager," Kyoko says when most of the boys are close enough to hear her, her chick-like charge shaking due to her fraying nerves.
The older girl's lips twitch when Yachi tries to hide behind her to escape the eager, curious gaze of the volleyball team. The blonde seems to be hyperventilating, fingers unconsciously gripping Shimizu's uniform shirt, how many of them are there?!
"I-I'm Yachi Hitoka!" a part of her soul shrivels and dies when she realizes just how terribly loud she's being and she bows lowly to hide the blush that colors her cheeks.
"Whoa," a tall, dark-haired boy tilts his head respectfully in her direction as another with cream-colored hair grins boyishly at his manager.
He seems like the kind of person who can put anyone at ease, which would perhaps be Hitoka's case, were she not so deep within enemy territory, "That's amazing Kyoko! I knew you could find someone."
Hitoka furiously tugs at the hem of her school uniform skirt nervously, wide eyes moving from one boy to the other quickly. When Kiyoko shuffles a bit to the left, so does she - the older girl sending her an unimpressed look behind her shoulder but ultimately sighs amusedly.
All of this goes unnoticed by the boys who have now shifted to circle the two girls. "Eh, so you're a first-year?"
Stars above, this boy is huge - was Hitoka any less of a mess, she might have seen how the corners of his eyes crinkle in a way that only genuine expressions of joy will curve features, how undoubtedly gentle he is, "I-I'm in class 1-5, sir!"
"Asahi back up," someone warns, and too lost in her panic, she does not notice where the order comes from, "You're scaring her."
Two figures creep behind the one with the soft smile and greyish hair, their eyes focused solely on her in a way that has her spine straightening.
"Don't stare at her like that!" her savior slams his palms into the faces of the two who are gawking at her and Yachi squeaks when the boy who stands between the two boys and herself like a shield, further scolds them, "It's rude."
"Sorry, Suga!" the smaller boy of the two does not look sorry at all, and 'Suga' picks up on it with the loud sigh of someone who has to deal with this nonsense daily.
May his kind soul rest in peace.
"Thank goodness," speaks the giant from earlier, the one with the hair tied into a low bun - Asahi if she’s not mistaking. Hiroka swallows with difficulty, repeating in her head that he has not given her any reason to be afraid. If you forget the fact that he could snap her like a twig if he wanted, "Now we'll have a manager for next year."
Hitoka's eyes widen some more, taking up what seems to be half of her face - her expression of pure panic and bewilderment earns her a few worried glances. Her thoughts are barely coherent, even to herself, and for a good second, she forgets how to breathe.
"She hasn't joined yet, it's a trial basis," Shimizu cuts in, taking a step back to drop a comforting hand over the blonde's shaking arm, "She just came by to introduce herself."
Intent on never showing her face to school ever again, Yachi hastily bows once again, "It's a pleasure to meet you!" Before she can make her escape, however, a dozen members surround her and bow back.
The action is meant to be respectful and polite and kind; Hitoka promptly nopes out of this situation.
"Don't crowd her so soon, she's not used to you guys," Kiyoko scolds and earns herself lost, dumbfounded stares. The manager sighs, an apology on her lips as she turns towards the obviously overwhelmed younger girl.
However, the space that the blonde was occupying seconds earlier is now empty.
Deep blue eyes framed by long eyelashes raise a bit further down the entrance of the gymnasium to find the girl she was searching for, partly hidden by the door, "S-sorry for the intrusion!" the door slowly slides closed.
With her heart jumping up to her throat, the first-year takes the chance that Shimizu-senpai is not following and runs.
So maybe she is just as cowardly as they ever thought she was, but there is no way she can deal with any of this.
("You're nothing but a coward," he sneers when she flinches, she lets herself slide down the wall she is leaning on when he walks out, boneless)
Yachi wallows in what can only be defined as self-pity and perhaps a hint of remorse directed towards Shimizu-senpai.
("Useless Yacchin," it's not the insult itself that kills her inside, it's the cold, lazy apathy in his eyes)
An ungraceful squawk leaves the girl's lips when she rams into something much bigger than herself, "Shit! I'm sorry!" eyes the color of burnt sugar widen at the vulgar exclamation as she falls to the ground.
Yachi is helped up to her feet by an older man, the dyed hair and piercing irregular for the rural area they're in catch her attention. "-everything alright?" words fail her in front of the terrifying man and so she nods before once again running in direction of the hall leading out of the sport's wing.
Coach Keishin Ukai blinks as the strange girl leaves a trail of smoke in her wake.
Once she has regained a normal breathing pace, Hitoka begins to think more clearly and comes to two conclusions, the only ones that make sense to her ;
One, she is cursed so that her every encounter with athletes ends up in total and undeniable disaster.
Second, Kiyoko Shimizu has fans - those are never good, those always end up with stolen shoes and possibly very bloody deaths.
A shiver crawls up Yachi's spine as she leaves to walk back home, mind whirling.
At least it's not basketball, it is a pitiful and weak reassurance and she knows it.