Kotaro Bokuto is the kind of guy who you expect
to have some kind of confusing backstory looming over him
To explain his inexplicable eclectic existence:
he has the brains of a genius-
even if he wastes that potential building
towers made from decks of cards-
but the soul of a simpleton,
straight-forward and easy to amuse
because there's a lightness illuminating his face
even when he's glum and
especially when he smles,
gifted with the energy of a child,
gleeful and innocent
without the haze of cynicism clouding the vision,
filtering his opinions through
the coffee-stained future
of what's ahead.
Instead, he is just Kotaro Bokuto-
lover of volleyball,
a young man with his head in the clouds
and his feet planted in the moment-
who can't help but notice the chatter
of all the first years in
the training camp with him,
vibrating with the kind of manic happiness
that didn't really do much to conceal
the anxiety-
overwhelming in its intensity
(so much uncertainty oozed, radioactively powerful,
that Bokuto's heart on his sleeves bled)
that somehow stank of body odor and fear of failure
...and yet...
the curiosity of heightened potential filled the air,
a scent unmistakable wafting through the air.
When Karasuno High School made their entrance,
Bokuto couldn't help but stare at the lanky blonde:
it was obvious that he was
an apprehensive brat with an attitude
just by observing his tense body language
and haughty face, contorted into an unreadable look
that tried to hide whatever discomfort he felt deep within;
despite all of that,
Bokuto felt himself intrigued to the blonde,
for there was a magnetic charm about him
that Bokuto couldn't place
but wanted nearby at all times.
The desire to fill whatever possessive need
to claim this person
as his own, as a prodigy unlocking the strength within
as someone to nurture,
to shape and mold and influence,
enticed Bokuto enough to make the plunge
and introduce himself
as the blonde was alone.
"Welcome to the spring training camp,
ya newb~ I'm Fukurodani Academy's own
Captain, Kotaro Bokuto,
and I'm taking you under my wing."
The blonde stammered out his name,
Kei Tsukishima, so thrown off guard
that he didn't even have the time to make
some snarky comment about Bokuto's arm draped around
Kei's bony shoulders,
squeezing hard enough, somehow managing
to convey affection
and to convey a competitive need to improve
and to prove that he could be a good influence.
Right away, Bokuto liked Tsukki:
he was an energetic young man
but in a quiet way,
forgoing flashiness for sarcasm
and a tactician's outlook,
meticulously planning what to say
(like the world would shift
if even the syllables were out of place,
buried beneath the worry that
an axis would shift all of a sudden
if not everyone immediately approved of him
in the way Tsukki approved of) ,
always acting before thinking,
so unlike Bokuto
but with that same energy and that same enigmatic desire for competition
those same desires to push himself to improvement.
At the end of the day,
Bokuto would make it a habit
to lean in close to Tsukki;
they stood close,
where Bokuto could see
a light speckling of freckles,
lips brushing
fingers laced
bodies close
an electric heat blooming
excited to emerge.
Tsukki flustered, (Bokuto grinning)
blushing and stammering,
a flurry of anxious, slurred words
an avoidance of eye-contact.
"I see potential in you," and a kiss
(warm and soft and intense,
with the earnesty of a puppy,
energy unmatched).
With Tsukki's heart racing out
of his chest,
like confetti ready to escape into a birthday party,
Bokuto knew he made the right choice in protege.