A/N [18/08/2018] : Whooo! One more chapter to go!
GUest - Sometimes I wish my writing got a lot more attention than it does (is that narcissistic of me?). But on the flip side, I'd be really out of my comfort zone if any of my fics 'took off' so to speak. I'm really just thankful for anyone reading these... d( ^ _ ^ ;;)
Notice Me, Daichi
Slap That (Get On the Court)
To say Kōshi Sugawara had a chance of romancing his best friend was a gross understatement at this point.
Daichi was proving to be more difficult than the hardest route one could take in an Otome game. Not only did Daichi just not seem to pick up on Suga's odd behaviours or his withdrawal from physical contact (lest Karasuno's Vice Captain not be able to restrain himself), but all it took was one false move for Kōshi's path to not go any farther.
It was GAME OVER, for sure. Kōshi couldn't see any other outcome. He'd been swallowing back down his rising feelings for well over a month and a half at this point, so surely the rest of Kōshi Sugawara's life would be a cake walk?
While Kōshi would have probably nominated Hinata or Kageyama for the title of 'Problem Child' – with Noya coming in as a notable nomination rather than being the winner this year – the crown had to have now passed to Hitoka Yachi. If Kōshi's hair wasn't already silver, it would have likely turned grey from stress already; how the girl – or rather her targets – managed to give him conniptions was beyond him.
Kōshi wasn't even supposed to be involved with Kiyoko's stupid tradition in the first place. In fact, why wasn't the hair on his head white as a sheet by now?
He knew that Hitoka didn't intend to go looking for trouble unless she knew what she was getting into (joining Karasuno as a manager had been one of those impulsive moments, but Hinata had been an enabler.) However, trouble certainly knew how to seek Hitoka out. (Why did it seek her out? Kōshi lamented.)
He also knew that while she'd been flustered over texting Oikawa all day, in no way shape or form – subliminal or direct – had Hitoka invited Oikawa down to torment them all. He just sort of… turned up, like an alley cat, and hadn't left.
Like with any socialised stray animal one showed a scrap of attention to, they just kept coming back again and again. Or they brought a friend – multiple friends, sometimes – with them the next time. Kōshi had spent a week playing alongside Owls and Cats, but nothing they could throw at him had prepared him for Tōru Oikawa's stubbornness.
Kōshi still had a distaste for Nekoma's Captain, but there was a threat closer to home than Tetsuro Kuroo. It was painfully obvious that Yui Michimiya was on the prowl, and while Kōshi was always pleasant to the girl – and in the past he'd even hustled other teammates away to give her and Daichi some alone time (an act Kōshi now regretted deeply) – that didn't mean he was going to roll over and let her rain all over his indecisive parade.
Iwaizumi turning up to wrangle away his Captain and later ending up deeply involved in the madness had been a turn up for the books, seeing as the bloke had been quite closed off during Karasuno's practice match against Aobajōsai. Kōshi had hoped they'd disappear before things escalated and Daichi popped a blood vessel or something, but alas, forty minutes later the majority of Karasuno's team were the wonky third wheel on the Japan's most strained second date.
But hey, Kōshi had found some interesting ramen to drown his sorrows with at least. Daichi wasn't going to be speaking with him for a while – most likely believing Kōshi (and Kiyoko, he mustn't forget her) had something to do with Aobajōsai's Power Couple defiling Hitoka – and then Michimiya would win and Kōshi would live out his life alone.
If only Daichi knew. For a start, Kōshi was more involved that the aforementioned believed, and Kōshi had the sinking suspicious Michimiya was planning her own full-frontal assault. There was nothing Kōshi could do about the latter without him revealing his own hand, and he sulked for the duration of his walk home. And the ramen-boiling process. And eating said ramen.
Salty ramen for an even saltier Kōshi seemed like a good move at that moment.
Things were going to get awkward, fast, and Kōshi was going to have to go it alone. The niggling, negative feeling he'd felt during the training camp barbeque had returned tenfold. It twisted and stabbed at his guts, sent icy shivers down his back. Not even the soupy broth the ramen noodles swam in could warm Kōshi up inside. He spent the night tossing and turning in bed and hated himself for it the next day because there was a morning practice session to attend.
How did you make it up with someone you hadn't truly fallen out with? Daichi's dispute wasn't with Kōshi, yet the latter felt guilty over his involvement in Hitoka's 'confidence lessons' anyway. Though at this point Kōshi might well give up on his feelings altogether.
Speaking with Kiyoko had relieved a lot of his worries, honestly. He hadn't expected it to, and the added pressure of trying not to show Kiyoko up in front of her neighbours had been allowed Kōshi to calm himself and think through his own problems without added drama.
Knowing a little bit more about who exactly Kiyoko Shimizu was had been insightful too, even though the pair of them had had a little dispute over her phone once Hitoka had called. There were of course, little differences in each of their circumstances. Kōshi was trying his best not to be in love with his best friend (and failing.) Kiyoko had been hurt before, and her heart still stung. Hitoka was walking down a path closely monitored by Kiyoko, the elder of Karasuno's managers trying to make sure that what happened to her did not repeat itself.
Kōshi didn't feel 'at peace' with his feelings, or at the point – both around the tie of Karasuno's peak performance or in his own emotional stability – where he could outright confess. He did feel like he could cope from day to day, watching and growing alongside the one he cherished. For now, that was enough, because it was all Kōshi felt capable of doing. Cowardly, he knew, but he really didn't want to risk what he had now.
Taking that leap would be irrevocable, he knew. Kiyoko had been very supportive and open, but there was a crippling doubt swirling within Kōshi whispering about how Daichi probably didn't reciprocate what Kōshi felt for him. Still, if Daichi was mad about Hitoka being preyed upon but two third years from a rival team, Kōshi wouldn't be making that jump anytime soon. Being friends with him for now was enough.
Maybe Kōshi could get all sentimental once they'd graduated and offer Daichi the second button from his gakuran jacket? [1] That… well, it wasn't that far away truthfully, but first Karasuno had to work their way to the nationals.
Love could wait. Their chance at glory could not – it was now or never.
Defeating Aobajōsai hadn't been what Kōshi had expected as the outcome of their match. It was terrible of him to think the worst of their team, and Karasuno's first match against the other school shouldn't have set the tone for how this one had turned out – the team hadn't had Nishinoya or Asahi on side back then, and they were still working out the kinks despite Hinata and Kageyama's freakish quick.
Needless to say, scoring those vital few points – of clawing back during the final set and stealing the win right under Aobajōsai's noses – had been the quite literal game changer. Now all Karasuno had to do was beat Shiratorizawa.
Easy right?
If only Daichi would stop staring at Ushiwaka long enough to pay attention to what he should be doing; trying to wrangle their team into working order before their nerves shredded for good.
Things were bound to go wrong from the offset. Kōshi felt jittery, Daichi wouldn't stop staring down the competition, and the former's aim had been completely off. (Slapping his arse though? Really? Kōshi was mortified…)
"We've just got to do what we've got to do, Dai-Chan," Kōshi told his friend and Captain softly, trying to ignore how both of their faces were flaming bright red.
Not four points into the match, Kōshi had lost his soft, hopeful words and had exchanged them for screaming at Daichi to keep calm. Honestly, he could see the Captain's mind working overtime as he plotted to make up the points Karasuno had lost to Shiratorizawa, and it was painful. So Kōshi screamed, and ranted, and raved, and drew the ire of the referee (and the silent horror of his teammates who recoiled from such a display of Kōshi's temper.)
Fortunately, it was effective. Daichi's shoulder's relaxed into a gentle slope; his posture during receives wasn't tightly wound and taut anymore – in favour of a fluid movement only Nishinoya could rival in terms of defence speciality.
That was Kōshi's Daichi out there. Doing his thing, in charge and in control of his emotions. It had been strange seeing him act like a panicked loose cannon – usually such behaviour was left to Hinata. He knew Daichi was still distracted. Ushijima was too, his attention flitting occasionally to the stands.
Kōshi supposed he should be proud of Hitoka's input. She was the one creating the interference after all, and he was sure Kiyoko was positively beaming deep down inside at seeing her student at work. Actually, it was fairly interesting to see it unfurl from Kōshi's perspective, or, it would have been had Kōshi not needed to concentrate on what was happening on the court.
Karasuno were clinging on, barely.
Hitoka, he thought at the end of the second set, mentally clapping his hands together in prayer. Work your magic, please.
By whatever miracle Hitoka had unwittingly cast, great luck, Michimiya's (uurghhh) charm, the power of arse slapping, or Nishinoya not being flustered by the title Daichi had given him – Kōshi wasn't sure what had clinched Karasuno's win – they had done it.
They'd battled Aobajōsai only a day before, they were tired (so tired…) But Karasuno had done it. They were going to the Nationals. It was almost worth the mortification early before the match had even begun. (Kōshi kept replaying what had happened in his mind. The feeling of gym shorts and a set of illegally firm buttocks forever imprinted onto Kōshi's palm.)
Daichi still wasn't satisfied though. Japan and his creepy teammate were still staring at the secondary manager.
"Maybe he was using the stands as a focal point," Kōshi had offered, leading Daichi back to Karasuno's assigned changing room.
"He was definitely looking at Hitoka," Daichi had replied, and something in Kōshi melted at hearing Daichi call the girl by her first name. Would he ever stop calling him 'Suga'? Would Kōshi ever fall from his lips instead?
On the day that the aforementioned happened, Kōshi Sugawara would be in big, biiiiiiig trouble. Trouble with a capital 'T' for sure.
Kōshi exchanged a few more words with Daichi. Felt bitterness on his tongue. Then, he stood stock still with his volleyball shirt partway over the top of his head (looking very much like a Nun trying to escape their garb) as a hand pet once lightly at his rump.
"Thanks Sugamama."
Kōshi's face was bright red. "Anytime, Dadchi," he choked back.
Oh, I'm so done for, Kōshi groaned. No need for a fork, I'm a smouldering mess already.
Daichi's topic of conversation steered back to Hitoka, and Kōshi felt like he could breathe once again. It was disappointed, of course. The pair of them had been having a moment. Would it have been appropriate to jump his Captain while the two of them (and the rest of the team) were getting changed together?
Probably not.
Thank the Guardian Deities that be for Hitoka Yachi, Kiyoko Shimizu, and Daichi Sawamura's bloody 'intervention'. Kōshi was just about reigning his sanity back in once more.
[1] The second button is closest to the heart, and closest to the feelings. They're often given out after graduation ceremonies during confessions, as most likely you've worn/carried that uniform/those feelings for the past three years.
