For those of you who follow my other story, I apologize. Things happened, and I nearly lost the will to continue and redo my rough drafts. I'm back now, better than ever, but I want to maintain my original purpose for joining this site: to enjoy writing. That doesn't mean I will give up on my other story. I'm still determined to complete the things I publish, but now I'm content with doing it at my own pace.
This story (along with another that I will not post yet because it's still in the reworks, but preview: It's a Marvel cinematic universe ff) has been in my head for a while now ever since I got into the Haikyuu hype. Growing watching and reading a bunch of sports mangas, I was so happy to find one like Haikyuu with a diverse group of complex and intriguing characters.
Despite the genre, this story won't solely revolve around the romantic dynamic. I always wanted to try a slice-of-life type of story with real life issues and drama, which includes romance but also friendship and family themes with it. (to be honest, romance is not my niche though I'm trying to get better at it). Enough of me rambling, you'll figure it out. Hope you guys like it.
-Mana
Prologue: The Encounter
It was time.
BAM
A firm, calloused fist slammed onto the table, rattling the plates of food as well as the peace and quiet of several high school boys. It didn't take a second glance to know who was the source of the commotion.
"Damnit, we need a manager!" Yamamoto Taketora was a hot blooded young man. It went without saying that he was riled up easily, and while some would call it a fiery passion, most of his teammates preferred a more accurate and simpler term: idiotic.
But while on most days in practice many would ignore his loud mouthed idiocy, they were currently in a restaurant. It was unbecoming for Yamamoto to be…Yamamoto in a place like this, albeit the chef was used to the boys by now and simply turned a blind eye to his antics.
"Shut up, Yamamoto." A short, blond haired boy and the libero of Nekoma, Yaku Morisuke was the unofficial keeper of the peace in the group, although, ironically he also had his short-tempered tendencies.
His words were completely ignored by the rebelliously haired ace of Nekoma High School's volleyball team.
"A manager who is beautiful! Cute! Gorgeous! Ostentatious! Resplendent-"
"Does he even know what those words mean?" Yaku wore an exasperated look.
"I doubt he can even spell them." Kuroo Testuro, captain and middle blocker, remarked while nabbing the tail piece of grilled mackerel onto his rice bowl.
"-a manager that will make us the envy of other schools!" The blond mowhawked ace continued, deaf to the verbal jabs in his zealous speech.
"What if the other schools already have a pretty manager?" A gangly, silver haired first year, Haiba Lev innocently asked while munching. He was their newest addition and he showed promise of being a great volleyball player.
"All the more reason we need one for ourselves! Imagine going to camp and being the only school without one?" The stress on Yamamoto's visage seemed rather melodramatic in their opinion. "Worse, what if those damn crows have one?"
"Your priorities for wanting a manager are completely off." Yaku sighed, closing his eyes as though it would help make the embarrassing sight of Yamamoto lessen. "But it would be nice to have someone help the team handle some of the logistical stuff."
"Yaku has a point." A calm voice entered into the discussion; Kai Nobuyuki, Nekoma's Vice captain, a dark skinned third year of perpetual composure.
"Oi, it was MY idea!" Yamamoto whined.
He was predictably ignored by the third years.
"Well ideally, we need a first year or even a second year who hasn't already involved themselves in a club." The captain muttered thoughtfully before turning to the first years.
"Anyone in your classes might be interested?"
Lev shrugged, "Dunno. Most of them are already a part of a club." Most of them were guys anyway.
"And some of them don't really seem like the responsible type." Shibayama Yuki, a first year libero, appeared a bit apologetic. "Like Kuroo-senpai's fangirls."
That only fueled Yamamoto's ire. "Fangirls? Why the hell does he have fangirls? Don't I have fangirls?" He fumed. "What do they see in his bed hair and scheming face?"
"Chicks dig my sexy hair and face." Kuroo smirked deviously before continuing the conversation. "We don't really have the luxury to be picky. If she's a fangirl that does her job, I don't mind. A plus if she's cute."
"Don't be stupid." A monotonously soft spoken voice intervened Kuroo's train of thought. While most teammates would balk at the gall of an underclassman speaking to an upperclassman in such a manner, Kozume Kenma had the exception as Kuroo's childhood friend.
A curtain of dyed blond hair obscured the setter's face as he leaned down to focus on his handheld gaming console. "A fangirl sounds annoying. I don't want to deal with another one of your admirers." He scowled at the thought. There were girls in his year who would try vying for his attention in order to weed out information on Kuro. It was annoying and daunting.
"Well then." Kuroo shrugged. "Know anyone in second year?"
Unknown to the team, Kenma's mind was already in work. It was like starting an RPG where you would have to select your character's profile and consider the best way to build them depending on the strategy and story path you chose. In this case, the team would need a cleric or a support mage who had the abilities and resources to be the backbone of the team. Someone well organized, diligent, practical, and unflappable. Intelligence and observation skills would be a bonus, not to mention some maturity that would balance out the childish tendencies of some of their teammates (Lev. Sou, and Yamamoto especially). He mentally sifted through the abysmally small network of students he knew of, from bare acquaintances to classmates and even friends.
Kenma's social pool was small, but miraculously, his thoughts fell onto one person.
"Ah." He confirmed softly, returning to his console. He didn't say anything else, but his teammates were nonetheless startled. The last person they would expect to have someone was Kozume Kenma. The boy wasn't exactly known for being an extrovert. Even Kuroo was surprised. He was Kenma's best friend. The boy didn't really have friends outside of the team and him.
"Eh?!"
"Who?!"
"Since when did you KNOW people? Especially girls?"
"She was my tutor. Homeroom teacher introduced us because my English grades were bad." Bad had been an understatement. He had been failing. But by some miracle, she had boosted his grade to a passable standard freshman year. They never talked much after that, but she had been someone he found pleasant to be around with her calm aura and firm maturity.
"Is she cute?" Lev asked with Yamamoto vigorously nodding to his question.
"Doesn't matter." He deadpanned. "That shouldn't be a priority."
"Damnit, then she's a gorilla!" Yamamoto looked close to tears. He could imagine it now. Karasuno and other rival teams having pretty managers who smiled beatifically while they had a juggernaut girl who carried volleyball carts with her bare hands. It was too painful.
"Why can't we have nice things?"
Yaku the second year's childishness. "Stop talking like the girl already agreed."
"Or just stop talking in general." Kuro growled.
/
When they paid for their meal, Yaku made it his personal duty to apologize to the chef for any disturbance they've caused, but the old man merely waved off his apology. At this rate, it was the norm of the restaurant to have Yamamoto's voice echo throughout the establishment.
The sun was starting to set but with the weather being nice, the Nekoma team debated on a quick volleyball game for fun. Per usual, Kenma looked less than pleased. If it wasn't a mandatory practice, he'd rather just go home and play his video games.
The setter was about to decline and head home when they heard commotion nearby.
"I'm not interested, so please get out of the way. Otherwise, I'll be late for dinner." That voice. It sounded familiar. It was the same voice that spoke English so many times last year.
"Eh, c'mon baby, don't play hard to get. Just a name and number then?" Now that voice not familiar. Amber eyes searched and found the source across the street.
That hair bun… Those strawberry blonde locks struck the setting light in a dusted pink hue. The said owner of the hair wore the Nekoma high school girl's uniform. The simple sailor outfit with the navy cardigan, along with a pair of grey leggings.
What a coincidence. It was her.
Granted it's been months since he saw her during his 1rst year days, but he knew that hair color and leggings anywhere. She always wore leggings or long track pants of some sort, even in the middle of summer, and her hair was always bundled in a bun one way or another to keep it from bothering her.
There was a bag of groceries in her hand, and while they didn't seem all too heavy, her pale knuckles held them in a tightened, tendon bulging grip. The boy in front of her was a stranger. A different school uniform that was disheveled with dyed, red hair and pierced ears. He was holding a cigarette in between his fingers. No doubt some sort of delinquent, wearing a confident and rather perverse smirk. He towered over her dainty stature like a vulture ready to nab a lemming.
Yet, height did not seem to discourage her. She stood tall and firm against the bigger foe, back straight and chin held high.
"Please step aside. And put the cigarette away please."
"Aw, concerned for me already. At least let me buy you dinner first." He took a long drag from his cigarrette, leaving the stick in his mouth as he fished for his phone.
She stepped back. "I asked you twice."
Ah, Kenma knew that tone. He could imagine the expression she was wearing. Those pale blue eyes of her would probably look like ice chips by now, ready to stab icicles into the heart of her enemies or cast some bewitching frost spell. He shuddered at the memory of those eyes perusing through his English evaluations, looking colder with each red mark of error on his paper.
"Just your number and name, baby, I promise I'll show you a good ti-"
The delinquent never finished his sentence.
The entire Nekoma volleyball team gawked as the girl struck a bonafide high kick. Torso twisted, legs stretched into a full 180 split in a startling display of flexibility, her sneakers clad foot smashed the lower part of the delinquent's face, cigarette and all, sending him toppling over several trash bins. His fingers were on his mouth and nose, and from the red Kenma could see, he was bleeding.
"T-the fu-"
"I asked you twice." Her head was still held high. "Don't make me ask a third time." Kenma felt chills at the venom in her calm voice. "If anything, you should be thanking me. Smoking will take away more years of your life than a kick to the face."
"B-bitch!"
"Oya oya." Kenma glanced at Testuro and froze. There was a strange glint in his dark eyes. If that wasn't unnerving, Kuroo began grinning like a Cheshire cat.
"Eh?"
"I think it's time to save the damsel in distress." Without further ado, Testuro Kuroo began crossing the street, leaving his baffled teammates to watch.
Damsel in distress? Distress did not seem to fit the word to describe the picture...
/
/
Earlier that day:
"Lee-san!"
What did he want now? This was the fifth time this month the Student Council's treasurer approached her for a favor. While she wasn't a pushover by any means, she owed the boy's family for looking after her youngest brother during her middle school days. Those had been rough times.
"Yes?" There was little warmth in her tone as she began binding her hair up into its usual bun. Her countenance alone made it hard to approach her cheerfully, to the point where gossip spread that her frosty blue eyes could put out fires. So while Iura Shu, treasurer of the Student council, was accustomed to her ice, he meekly refused to meet her eyes.
Meaning that her theory was correct.
"I'm really sorry, but this month is kinda crazy with the sports festival coming up."
Ah, the sports festival. Her most disliked day of the school year. Last year, she managed to weasel out of participating due to her younger brother catching the flu and needing care, but this year she doubted they would take similar excuses.
"-and I'm so swamped with assignments. Could you help me organize the finances?" He clasped his hands together in a praying posture. It did not soften the stoicism etched on her face.
She fought the urge to sigh. Reaching into her desk, she pulled out a leather-bound planner and pen. There was a sale on eggs and tomatoes today in the grocery store after school. If she stayed for an extra hour at school, the probability of them being sold out would be high. Luckily the store clerks would most likely save her a batch on the sales because they knew and liked her enough.
Ideally, I'll be done with this in an hour's time. Get to the grocery store by 5pm and be at home in time to make dinner at 6:30. Tedious but doable.
"Very well." She confirmed, ignoring the brightening expression on the boy's face.
"Really?! Thanks! After the sports festival, I'll take you out to dinner sometime!" There was an underlying tinge of hope in his voice. Classmates who noticed this only shook their head or rolled their eyes. Everyone knew of the boy's infatuation with their year's valedictorian.
"There is no need, Iura-san." She rejected his offer bluntly enough to extinguish the joy on his face. "Now, if you'll excuse me." She left the crestfallen boy at a brisk pace, there were things that needed to be done and punctuality was key if she wanted to do things on schedule.
"It's Shu..." Iura Shu weakly muttered, hanging his head low while watching the girl depart.
"Don't take it to heart, Shu." A classmate consoled. "Lee-san isn't known as an 'yuki-onna*' for nothing."
"Ironic, considering her name." Another joked before returning to their studies.
/
/
She was running late. Small feet hurried through the street, carefully minding pedestrians as she weaved her way through. Organizing the financial chart had taken longer than anticipated. She underestimated Iura Shu's tendency to be disorganized when preoccupied and had to take an extra step to recalculate the added funds from a fundraiser he missed before distributing them to the proper areas. Honestly, how that boy maintains his position in the student council was harder to understand than Keynesian philosophy. It wasn't because he was brilliant at his job. She would know… student council president had come to her personally several times to request she join them as "co-treasurer", but after being denied thrice, the third time with a little more than minor annoyance, he learned to stop asking. She hated repeating herself, and there was little doubt in her mind that "co-treasurer" would soon turn into "treasurer" if she did.
At the rate this was going, she would have to take a shortcut. Speeding up her jog, she took a quick turn into an alley, startling a few unsuspecting stray cats that yowled in fright.
"Ah, sorry!" She exclaimed, promising them treats the next time she came by. Coiling the muscles of her right leg, she took a leap and kicked off the pipe ledge on the building wall, gaining an extra boost to leap herself over the chain link fence. She felt a tug on her right leg as the metal snagged her gray leggings. Berating herself inwardly for not wearing sweatpants, she landing on the other side and examined her leg. There was a tear where the wire caught stretch material, revealing a hard, plastic surface where the calf skin would be.
At times like these, it was fortunate she had a prosthetic leg. If it were her other leg, there would have been a nasty cut needing antibiotics and stitches later on...
There was a time when the loss of her limb nearly broke her. She had hated everything about her prosthetic leg and her handicapped condition to the point of depression and rage. So many dreams and hopes lost with her leg. The mere mention of being an 'amputee' once made her sick to the core. Even now she was still reluctant to expose herself as one, but at least she could think optimistically to a degree about it.
Now it was just a part of her.
Shouyou would be proud I took his words to heart.
She still remembered that sunny boy's words that day in the hospital. He probably forgot, considering how he was, not knowing the impact he made by giving her the willpower not to give up after the accident.
She wondered what he was doing now. The boy was probably entering freshman year. Perhaps he was joining the volleyball team he avidly loved back then.
Her idle thoughts stopped when she spotted the grocery store. Sure enough, the clerks had saved her a batch on the sales, to which she profusely bowed and thanked them for. It took her less than 15 minutes to finish her shopping, which added an extra 5 minutes in her time to get home. Perfect. She wasn't going to be late.
At least, she wasn't until there was an obstacle in her way-an obstacle in the form of a nauseating cigarette smell and stupid face.
She fought the urge to grimace at the boy in her path.
"Hey babe, that bag looks a bit heavy. Need some help?"
"No, thank you." She deadpanned, aiming to curve around him. To her souring mood, he stood in her way again, wafting more of the nauseating cigarette smell in her face.
"You're from Nekoma right? Your school uniform looks familiar. I've met a few girls from Nekoma, but none of them looked like you."
"I don't care." She was going to give the boy ten minutes before kicking him in the groin.
Unlike others, he didn't flinch at her dark tone. What a fool. If her little brother faced the brunt of her current tone, he'd be cowering because he knew what followed after.
"Kitten has some bite, eh? I like that. You don't look like you're from around here like the other Japanese girls. Gotta foreign mom or dad?"
Nevermind, make it five minutes.
"I'm not interested, so please get out of the way. Otherwise, I'll be late for dinner." Did she need to spell it out for the idiot?
"Eh, c'mon baby, don't play hard to get. Just a name and number then?" He lit a cigarette, grinning all the while he did so. The boy looked to be a third year, perhaps a year or two older than her. How disgusting. He shouldn't be smoking at that age.
Speaking of her little brother, if Hibiki were here, he would have pummeled the boy with kicks by now.
"Please step aside. And put the cigarrette away please."
He had two minutes. Two minutes before she would make her move.
"Aw, concerned for me already. At least let me buy you dinner first." He took a long drag from his cigarette and fished for his phone.
Some of the cigarette smoke blew into her face, nearly forcing her to cough as she inhaled the ashy scent.
That just about did it. Forget aiming for his groin. She was going to make sure that cigarette was going out.
"I asked you twice."
Uncle always said to ask twice before you stop being nice.
Another perk about having a prosthetic foot was that the likeliness of an ankle injury due to an improper kick was highly unlikely because there was no ankle. And having metal, carbon fiber, and plastic reinforce the kick made it hurt.
"Just your number and name, baby." He grinned lecherously, eyes roaming her body, focusing on her chest. "I promise I'll show you a good ti-"
Years of rhythmic gymnastics and martial arts classes showed their benefits when she sprung her leg for a high kick. Her foot met its mark with frightening precision, extinguishing the cigarette. It threw him off balance and sent him careening straight into the trash bins, knocking them apart like a bowling ball against pins.
"T-the fu-"
"I asked you twice." If glares could kill, hers would. "Don't make me ask a third time." She huffed. "If anything, you should be thanking me. Smoking will take away more years of your life than a kick to the face."
The fallen young man fought the coldness clutching his gut. Those baby blue eyes seemed to glow with a hollow wrath as the fringe of her side bangs shadowed them, adding to the frightening effect.
"B-bitch!" He didn't want to admit defeat just yet. No way was he going to now, with his pride on the line. Girl be damned, he wasn't going to let her get away unscathed. Standing up taller than ever, the young man loomed over her, hoping to make her grovel once she clearly noticed the difference in power.
"You're going to regret that."
"I could say the same for you when you get lung cancer in a decade." She snapped back, refusing to be daunted. Meanwhile, her mind raced in the process. If he was going to come at her, it would be with his fist. Most people always thought of their fists first, and considering the way he clenched his into a tightened ball, it was very likely going to be a right hook.
Running was not an option. She was weighed down with her groceries and the thought of abandoned the groceries was out the window. They had been on sale, no way was she letting that go to waste.
And screaming for help… The mere thought of that soured her dignity. This was her situation that she needed to deal with herself. She got herself into this mess, she would get herself out. Even if she was bruised doing so. That was how life worked. She couldn't expect people to come to her aid.
So that was why he was so unexpected.
A deep voice coated in mischief cut through the tension.
"Babe, there you are." A hand made its way around her waist, pulling her to the warm side of someone's torso.
If her head snapped up any faster, she would have suffered a neck injury. Sharp, felid dark eyes met her questioning gaze with fake familiarity. Concern lacing his voice, he only held her closer, not minding her flabbergasted face.
"I told you to call me when you're close. There's some weird perverts nearby." His smiling expression then stretched further into what she could only describe as a predatory grin.
"Speaking of weird perverts, who the fuck are you? Trying to flirt with my girlfriend?"
Girlfriend. What? Who the heck was this guy? Her mind seemed to work slowly as though it were jammed by thick syrup. Eyes slow to absorb the sight of the newest arrival, she stood in his arms, frozen and silent. He towered over her, like most men did, donned in the Nekoma uniform. Black hair in dissaray as though he woke up and did nothing to fix it. He had a face and disposition reminding her of a scruffy, feral alley cat.
"Who the fu-gah." There was a messy smudge of blood caking the lower half of his face. His swelling upper lip made it painful to speak further.
"Cat got your tongue?" His grin faded into a vicious sneer. "Scram if you know what's good for you."
"Listen you sonova-"
"Oi..." As if his sneer wasn't enough, another towering boy came into view, scowling as he loomed behind the delinquent. "Is this fucker bothering you, Kuroo?" He snarled.
The delinquent's anger morphed into terror. Soon, there was a gathering of male students from Nekoma high school coming into view. They were drawing closer like a pride of prowling lions ready to pounce on an lone hyena.
She almost felt sorry for the young man.
"I'll be nice and give you a second chance to scram." The mocking grin returned on the messy haired leader of the group. This time there was little hesitation. Nursing his bruised nose and mouth, the delinquent fumbled on his feet before scampering off with his imaginary tail tucked between his legs.
She fought the urge to sigh. Problem one was solved but now she had problem two. How was she going to escape the clutches of this crowd? Running was not an option, not without causing commotion. So she opted for the diplomatic approach.
"That was unnecessary, but thank you." She held back a flinch when eyes fell to her. It was like being stared at by the stray cats in the garbage dump, only these were human sized cats. "I-I need to get going now." She squirmed her way out of the tall tousle haired stranger, who relented his grip without hesitation. His Cheshire grin had faded into a simple expression of curiosity, now that she had his full attention.
She nearly grew giddy with hope when there was not a move to stop her, but the hope was quickly crushed when the boy with the blond mohawk and snarling tone from earlier stepped forward.
"Eh, I know you. You're Lee Haruka, you're in my grade. Second year right?"
"Uh..."
"Since when did you get chummy with anyone outside of volleyball?" The tousle haired one, Kuro or something along the lines of that name, cast his curious gaze to his friend.
"She's our grade's genius."
"Er. Yes." How people out of her grade and class knew her identity was beyond her. Yes, she was considered the valedictorian, but it was not a title she took massive pride in. She was just a bit of a perfectionist.…Or a person with OCD, Hibiki would mockingly proclaim.
Speaking of her brothers, by now they would be home and hungry. She needed to go home and prepare something.
"I really need to-"
"Haruka-san."
She felt her temper spike and turned to give the latest intruder a piece of her irk, only for her aggravation to be replaced by surprise at the familiar face.
"Kozume…Kenma?" Ah, it was Kenma. His face had stayed the same in its perpetual, cat-like expression of calm, although the blond dye accenting his hair was new. It resembled something akin to pudding or chocolate flan.
"Ah. Long time no see." Indeed. It's been months since they've last met. She had been his tutor long enough to be on friendly terms, but conflicting schedules soon ended their meetings.
"This is your volleyball team then?" He had mentioned he was on a team before, but she was surprised he remained. Last year, he always complained about the physical strain volleyball forced him into, especially since he didn't favor the would've assumed he would quit by now.
"Ah."
"And I'm Kuroo Testuro. Volleyball captain." The tousle haired teen slid his introduction, pasting his face with what was supposed to be a charming grin. The setter almost rolled his eyes at his friend's attempt to flirt. He needed to stop the playboy attitude with this girl. While most females under Kuroo's flirtatious attention would swoon or blush, this was Lee Haruka. Seeing her expression, Kenma could only deduce that she hadn't warmed- 'or defrosted' her initial manners since last year. The girl wasn't called yuki-onna for nothing.
As he suspected, the girl did not fall for Kuroo's charm. It was likely she did not notice it. She looked rather preoccupied.
"Er…Pleasure." She greeted briskly, returning her attention to Kenma. "My apologies, Kenma. I'd like to catch up with you sometime and check on your grades-" Kenma almost cringed at the mention of his academics. The girl still had her sensei-mode tendencies even now. "-but…"
"You probably have somewhere to be, and these guys are in your way." He finished for her while casting his teammates a light glare, urging them to clear a path for her. Most were regarding her in silence, no doubt still stunned that the dainty, well mannered girl was the same one that performed a violent but no less impressive high kick.
She would've hugged the boy if her arms weren't full and if she were the hugging type. Kozume Kenma's keenness to detail was something she always highly regarded. He also had a golden heart once people got past his apathetic and lax exterior.
"Thank you, Kenma." She gave him a light, hurried bow before departing at a jogging pace.
The team watched the girl jog until she rounded the corner and disappeared from sight. Then proceeded to pin their setter with a torrent of questions.
"Oi, Kenma! Since when were you on first name basis with Lee Haruka?" Yamamoto all but roared, pointing an accusatory finger at the setter.
"Since she was his tutor." Kuroo finished, grinning his scheming grin once more. "Oi, you never said your English tutor 1rst year was her."
"You never asked, and I didn't want to tell." He hadn't wanted to risk scaring Haruka off with Kuroo's predatory tendencies when it came to people, especially girls, he was interested in. He would have been forced to find another tutor for his English.
Yaku blinked several times, absorbing the information. "Wait, if she was that tutor. Does that mean you were thinking about her as our potential manager?"
Kenma was interrupted before he could even speak. "Oooooooh! I approve, Kenma-senpai! She looks like she fits the mold perfectly." Lev raised his fist, grinning with excitement.
"But she doesn't seem like the type who would say yes easily." Kai commented thoughtfully.
Kenma wanted to disagree. While Haruka was not involved in any clubs, she wasn't the type of girl who rejected people who needed her easily.
Yamamoto suddenly grasped his shoulders, silencing the setter."Yooooosh, Kenma!" He all but roared. "Make it your MISSION! GET LEE HARUKA TO SAY YES TO BECOMING MANAGER HARUKA!"
"Shut up Yamamoto. You make it sound like you want her to marry the team." Yaku grimaced, before contiuing. "It can't hurt to ask though." A chorus of responses followed:
"Yeah, Kenma-Senpa, ask!"
"Be a man! Go up to her and slam your hand on her desk while leaning-"
"She'll be with a bunch of handsome men. What girl doesn't want that?"
"Beg her. Grovel if you have to."
"Maybe we can bribe her."
"Can everyone just shut up?" Kenma all but hissed, bristling in his annoyance. Seriously, this team had some weird mental problems. When the ruckus of demands and questions went quiet at the brunt of his anger, he sighed. "I'll ask. But don't get your hopes up."
His calm tone belied the anxiety broiling in his gut. Of all his teammates, he was the least bit qualified to be some recruiter. He was painfully awkward and shy.
Hopefully, Lee Haruka would take pity on their situation. The girl, contrary to belief, had a soft heart for people who needed her.
/
/
Their home was a part of the more well off districts of Tokyo in a suburban neighborhood in Hiroo. The location had been an ideal place for them to settle after her father received his latest contract with a software engineering firm and game developing company. With all three of his children attending different schools, this neighborhood had been the most conveniently located. It was a pleasant place, if not a bit too spacious for her liking for a home in the city. They were a family of four with one member who slept in more hotels than in his own bedroom. Yet, they had a two story house with enough external space for a balcony, porch, and backyard. It was a pretty, if not a picture perfect house. But it was also a house that one person could become lonely in if left alone long enough.
Stepping into the iron gates, she took time to greet their dog: Sirius, a Korean Jindo dog. He had been a gift from a family friend in the rural south of Korea who's family specialized in breeding the dogs. Black nosed and white furred from the tip of his ears to the end of his tail, he was a proud and-no pun intended-serious canine who stayed true to his breed's nature as a dignified guard dog.
He sniffed her outstretched and and huffed before leaning for his customary ear-scratch causing Haruka's lips stretched into a small smile.
"Smelling the stray cats, Siri? Sorry about that. But those babies don't have anyone to look after them like you look after me. They need a good head rub too."
Intelligent amber eyes regarded her calmly before squinting in pleasure as his owner proceeded to give him a good chin-rub. She gave the dog a solid minute of her attention before heading into the house.
"Tadaima~, sorry I'm late." Haruka nearly wanted to lean against the door in her exhaustion. Her left knee joint ached from the extended strain on the prosthetic. It wasn't the sports model and thus wasn't made for the jogging, jumping, (and high kick), she did today.
Per usual, her three brothers came to greet her.
Hibiki, the second eldest child of the Lee household, stood about a good half head over her at the age of 15-and the boy was still in his growth spurt. It wasn't fair, but that was genetics. He appeared to have inherited his parent's heights. His hair was like hers but a bit darker in its strawberry blond shade, leaning towards a more fiery tone while hers was a lighter, rose gold hue. After his recent desire to go for a 'chic hipster' style-she wasn't really up to date with whatever the younger kids called it nowadays- Hibiki had grown his hair into a top knot while shaving the sides. His eyes were like their fathers; sharp, bespectacled, and light in its amber color. And while he mirrored her tendency to don a stoic visage, he tended to be more emotionally sensitive than his sister. Such was the nature of someone who's main passion and aspiration was in music.
Hiro, Hibiki's twin and technically the second youngest by 10 minutes, was identical in appearance to his genetic counterpart in every way but was of a softer nature with shorter hair. While Hibiki could be short tempered and snappy, Hiro was a more collected individual of gentle disposition. Hibiki was an argumentative person while Hiro was a natural diplomat who could befriend an angry bull if one gave him the chance. He often let Hibiki be the stylist for both of them, not minding sharing the same fashion with his twin. But appearance aside, while Hibiki was the musician, Hiro was the visual and culinary artist. Photos and drawings were plastered all over his wall, his work desk was cluttered with camera and computer equipment, and the kitchen was often filled with an assortment of expensive equipment he used to make his foods. One day it was a searing hot curry, another day it would be some weird french dish none of them could pronounce until a few tries.
And then there was their youngest. Hikaru was like his namesake, a bright light. With chestnut hair sticking out in waves, his eyes were as blue as a robin's egg, and they were always bright with joy and innocence. At seven, he was a happy child who was rather sharp for his age and much smarter than many adults would give him credit for. But he wasn't one to boast or try his best to stand out, unlike Hibiki. No, he was quite simple in that aspect and content to stay giggly and happy much to the delight of his siblings and had his fair share of mishaps because of his hyper attitude.
"Welcome home!"Hiro smiled from his spot on the couch, remote in hand, Hikaru leapt forth and embraced her tightly, and Hibiki was content to lean against the wall with his arms crossed.
"You're late." He commented.
"You're early." She replied back. Hibiki usually had rehearsals that would last until 7.
"Sensei sent me home after I showed him I could play the dumb piece better than anyone else."
"You mean he sent you home for being an arrogant prick." She teased blandly while ruffling Hikaru's hair.
Hibiki rolled his eyes while Hiro switched channels, asking. "What's for dinner?"
"I was going to make omurice curry, but now I think I'll make shitake mushroom pasta." She smiled sweetly.
Hibiki scowled. "You wouldn't dare." He hated shitake mushrooms, and his sister knew it.
"I'm okay with anything!" Hiro replied.
Hikaru nodded vigorously." Nee-chan always makes the best food! No offense Hiro-nii!" Hiro still pouted. Meanwhile, HIkaru hopped up and down. "Nee-chan, today I saw the beach volleyball tournament happening in the US, and the people were super tall and they jumped so HIGH on the sand which is weird cuz doesn't sand provide less footing for a good jump for a spike? and then I saw a sports documentary on resistance training and thought maybe the sand jumping makes a person jump higher on firm ground. Neh, can we go to the beach sometime? Maybe if I start now, I'll become an ace the first year I join volleyball and then I-"
"Hai, Hai, Hikaru." Haruka smirked, pushing her brother's cherubim cheeks together. "I'll consider it, but don't forget the most important step. You have to eat well to gain muscles and grow, but you won't be able to do that if your nee-chan can't start cooking."
"Can we get beef stew with the omurice?" Hiro asked. Haruka wrinkled her nose. Beef stew always smelled so pungent.
She relented when Hikaru gave her a pleading look.
"Only if you cut the onions."
Thus the Lee siblings began their usual routine. Hikaru would try his best to cook with Haruka and Hiro, though he was never allowed near the stove or knives for obvious reasons. While they cooked, Hibiki would play his music before eventually setting the tables. It was the unspoken rule of the house to disallow Hibiki entrance to the kitchen. When it came to cooking, Hiro took the talents, leaving his twin as a walking kitchen disaster.
She was stirring the contents of beef roux while Hikaru watched in a rare lapse of silence. Hiro was cracking eggs and mixing heavy cream in a bowl to the side.
After those blue eyes blinked thrice, she turned to him, knowing the telltale signs of him wanting to say or confess something.
"Something on your mind, Hikaru?" It wasn't about his recent grades. Haruka had checked. Her brother, as usual, did well in school although his grammar work wasn't as good as it could be. He never did more than what was necessary for tasks that held little interest to him.
"Erm…Well… Last week, I talked with Neko ji-san..." He began to sway back and forth on the balls of his feet.
Really, her youngest brother was too cute sometimes.
"Is this about that elementary volleyball club? You want to attend it as an after school program right?" She had seen the posters at the recreational center. Hikaru had his eyes glued to the poster board before she picked him up from his swimming lessons.
"Eh." He blinked in surprise before sighing. "Well yeah, but Nee-san no fair. No telepathy!"
The on running joke between her brothers was that she was a psychic who could read their minds and thus figure out their words or worse, secrets, before they could speak them. She nearly rolled her eyes. It wasn't her fault that they were so blatantly predictable.
"You want to go to that after school program instead of attending swimming? It's a two hour club that goes from Mondays through Thursdays, are you sure?" Not to mention the price. Considering it wasn't the run of the mill neighborhood club, it was understandably a bit costly.
"Yes please! I promise I'll still do good in school." He clasped his hands together.
"Do well, you mean." She corrected lightly. "And getting there?"
"I know the routes. It's only thirty minutes by train and bus. Souta is going too so I'll walk with him!" Souta was their neighbor by a few blocks, and Hibiki's close friend.
"I can pick him up." Hiro added. "The studio I work part time in happens to be five minutes away from the gym the club practices in."
"You really thought this through, hm." She muttered thoughtfully. It wasn't surprising. The boy was a volleyball fanatic. It was odd. None of their family members had a particular love for the sport. Her father preferred to watch E-sport gaming competitions while Hibiki had no interest in sports whatsoever, preferring concerts to games. Hiro was more focused on indie films and cinematography. The twins simply rationalized that it was heaven balancing the world. She was the brainiac, Hibiki was the musician, Hiro was the visual and culinary artist, and with Hikaru they had the aspiring athlete. It was a full package.
"We'll have to speak to your swim teacher. He wanted to put you on the team next month." She sauteed the rice and diced vegetables as she spoke. "What did Nekomata-san say?" She wasn't particularly close with the elderly volleyball coach. Once or twice she said hello when Hikaru introduced her. He seemed to be a pleasant old man with keen eyes.
"Jii-san says it'll be hard work, but if I have the guts and heart, I should do it! I think I have all the organs it takes!"
Hibiki chortled at this, earning a sharp, silencing glare from his sister. Haruka returned her attention to their youngest.
"Alright. I'll let dad know and figure things out by this weekend. But you have to tell your swim coach."
God knows she wanted to avoid speaking with the 20 year old swim teacher when she could.
"Fishy, guppy-faced bastard." Hibiki muttered darkly under his breath. It didn't take a genius to figure out the speedo wearing idiot had a crush on her. If Haruka knew, she didn't show it. He doubted she knew.
"Maybe I can tell him?" Hiro suggested.
"Hikaru is old enough to tell him himself." Haruka refuted calmly, placing the steaming fried rice in their designated molds before preparing the egg and heavy cream mix made by Hikaru with Hiro's help. There were a few eggshell remnants from when he was clumsy with the eggs, but she said nothing, sifting them from the mix as she reapplied oil to the pan and turned the heat low.
"… Onee-chan, you'll be okay right?"
"Eh?" She glanced at Hikaru. He stared at her intently again, worry evident in his eyes. "Why wouldn't I be?"
"Well…cuz. I won't be home to greet you anymore."
Ah, really her brothers were so sentimental, it was almost too sweet. She chuckled. "On the contrary, I think I'm okay with the peace and quiet. Besides, Siri greets me home."
Hikaru seemed mollified by this while Hibiki rolled his eyes. "He means, maybe you can finally get a life outside of family, nee-san."
"I have a life, mind you, brat." She raised a fine brow at her brother's cheek. Daring him to contradict her.
"Uhuh." Hibiki was unconvinced. "Inside the house, but at school? You never bring friends home-that weird game geek from 1rst year doesn't count, you were teaching him. You're not involved in any clubs or anything. You watch movies BY YOURSELF on NETFLIX or read or do housework on weekends or walk Sirius. Get more involved in school."
"What are you, my life coach?" Haruka felt indignant. "I'll have you know, I am very much involved."
"Doing work for that idiot Iura doesn't count." Hibiki countered with a light sneer. "Join a club or something Nee-san. Like…Judo. It's useful-"
"Yes, let's join a club where I and my 1.5 million yen prosthetic leg get tossed about on a mat." She began the precarious task of shifting the egg mix on the pan. Cooked just enough to hold while being pliant and malleable, the perfect omurice egg topping.
Hibiki ignored her sarcastic comment with a huff while Hiro glanced at her worriedly. "Wait, not Judo. Judo would have too many boys." Hiro was less upfront about his protective tendency with Haruka, but he was still a concerned brother.
"A manager! Nee-chan is great at caring for others!" Hikaru suggested brightly, watching with glee as Haruka placed the perfectly ovular egg lump over a plate of fried rice.
"A girl's team!" Hiro fiercely corrected. "Being manager of a boys team is worse than joining. Perverts fantasizing about their cute manager doing domestic deeds." He shuddered with a venomous expression at the thought.
Haruka cast the anxious twin a bland look and in an even blander tone, retorted. "While I appreciate your concern for my chastity, your plates getting cold."
"Hibi-nii! Let's cut the center!" Hikaru loved to watch the egg mound topping the rice spread when the incision was made at its top. A shallow cut down the middle was all it took for the yellow lump to expand open and blanket the rice.
While the brothers enjoyed watching the little culinary trick, Haruka plated the last of the omurice for her portion while Hiro placed the beef stew on the table. She fought the urge to scrunch her nose when the pungent odor of beef stew struck her senses. It was hard to understand why the boys loved it so much. Perhaps it was because it was beef. They poured generous portions of the beef concoction onto their omurice while she remained content to avoid chunks of meat while pouring its gravy-like contents onto her dish.
"Itadakimasuu~"
The clink of silverware was all that could be heard through the Lee household as each individual focused on their plate. It was all Haruka needed to hear to feel content. There was something about watching the people you love the most enjoy the the things you make for them. Afterwards, Hikaru and Hiro would clean the table while Hibiki washed the dishes, giving her time to retire into her room and go through her personal routine. She took off her prosthetic with a wince as the stump below her left knee throbbed. Even with the silicon cushion and wrappings around her limb, prolonging her time with the prosthetic on made her muscles and skin sore and tender.
Her gaze fell onto the ropy white scar marring the stump's of what was left of her left leg. Four years of seeing the same scar and the same lack on her body, one would think she would have grown to adjust and embrace it. Physically, perhaps she did. She lived her day as normally as she could and did things any person with four limbs would do. She ran, she jumped, and she even kicked. But past the surface of physicality, the scar and lack marring her body bothered her more than she would ever admit.
It would serve as a perpetual reminder of what happened.
"I'm sorry."
"Otou-san.. what happened? Outo-san? Papa?"
"Haruka... I'm so sorry."
Haunted, lifeless blue reflected back at her. The color of bruises, the color of bruises, of pain, of sorrow.
"I'm sorry."
"No...I should be sorry."
"I HATE YOU."
Four years… It had been a grueling process of healing but never forgetting.
Blue eyes dulled as a wave of fatigue washed over her. It wasn't a tiredness caused by a day at school. There were types of fatigue, some that would surpass the physical condition and constricted the soul. Her's was a tiredness that wouldn't fade with sleep or with the scar. A melancholic knowledge that she had to accept. A weakness that no matter how much she despised, she would have to live with.
No.…Not a weakness…
"They're battle scars." Orange hair glowing like a halo under the sunlight, the small boy grinned at her. "Bad ass battle scars, Haru-nee! Signs that you're brave and cool! A warrior princess!"
"Battle scars.. right." She sighed, entering into her stretch routine. While she could no longer perform gymnastic maneuvers like she used to, it was a matter of pride in maintaining her flexibility. Regardless of whether her missing limb was a weakness, a reminder, or a brave badge of honor, one thing was certain. Time doesn't always heal everything like the doctors and older people told her they would. If it were true, people wouldn't die from old age. If time truly was a remedy, then they would still have her with them.
Perhaps time just wasn't the true remedy...
"NO FAIR HIRO,I WANTED TO WATCH LALA LAND!" She could hear Hibiki's indignance, it interupted her reverie.
"Go listen to the soundtrack on Youtube. We're watching Kimi no Nawa today." Hiro calmly refuted.
"oooh, the anime had so many pretty colors." She could hear the hop in Hikaru's tone.
"I claim democracy! Put it to a vote. If it ties, we are flipping a coin." Hibiki declared.
Haruka sighed, doing the last of her stretch regime before she hopped to her lone foot. Opening the door, she raised her voice.
"You're outvoted, Hibi."
"TRAITOR! YOU LOVED BRYAN whatshisface."
"Ryan Reynolds, you idiot, and that's RYAN GOSLING." Haruka snapped back.
"THEY'RE LIKE THE SAME."
And so the story begins. Hope you guys stay around to see how it progresses. Please review!
-Mana