Heartbreaker? Pfffsh...

Lays-ese

'Wanted: One Spine', Hitoka narrates to herself in her head while hiding around yet another corner. 'Preferably crafted from Titanium. Or even better, Tungsten.'

Having a spine that came with a self-destruct option would be incredibly useful, seeing as Hitoka landed herself into many situations from which her embarrassment was still rife to this very day. Tungsten, while a strong metal in its own right, could shatter easily.

Perfect, Hitoka nodded to herself.

Why was she being so pathetic, one might ask? It all boiled down to simple aversion and weird boys, with aversion seemingly leading Hitoka into the paths of those she wished to divert around. And well, boys (as Kiyoko had sagely told her) were always weird. Though perhaps the summer sunshine made them even more so?

Heat could do funny things to people. Idiocy in the summertime could therein be some variant of heatstroke-induced delirium. The fact that she'd placed a lot of thinking time aside to that hypothesis stemmed from the fact that hiding around corners, in cupboards, and in bathrooms came with a lot of thinking time. Introspection was both a wonderful and terrible thing. The aforementioned had, however, allowed Hitoka to rethink her choices somewhat – and her plan of action – even if sitting or crouching in impossibly small spaces became tedious at times.

Hitoka was giving up; she had been sure of that for some time, even with the clarification of what she was to do with her targets from Kiyoko. She wasn't ready for this, and well – dare she say it – she could always cut her teeth on Flirt first before she moved onto anyone else. He could at least give her a 'Wowser!' of a first kiss – you could always count on experience in that sense. Bokuto seemed like a really nice person, despite the hooting and the fist pumps and the fact that he could slap a volleyball with enough force to tear away your upper epidermis should it hit you.

To be fair, Hinata and Asahi could dole out the same amount of damage, and Hitoka was only mildly afraid of the latter still. She was growing used to this team's quirks, and well, how could you be afraid of (terrifying, mafia-faced, mature) Asahi when Nishinoya had secretly braided his Ace's hair one morning when he refused to wake?

Hitoka, as the only one of the Karasuno managers to carry cutesy hair ties around with her, had been woken by Nishinoya and the disgruntled sleepy ramblings of those she was rooming with. Before they'd manage to wake her with their noise and by shuffling around the room, Nishinoya had been responsible for an impossibly early wake-up for all the other managers. They were all tired that day. Nishinoya had been disgustingly chipper; Hitoka had to wonder whether the tuft on his hair doubled up a rooster's plumage.

(Asahi hadn't noticed the bright pink bands in his hair until the majority of those present at breakfast had lapsed into indiscreet snickers. It had been cute to see; Hitoka was still shy around him though.)

Still, it didn't feel right to pursue Kotaro Bokuto in such a dishonest manner. It was too personal, and if Hitoka thought about the whole situation pragmatically, her actions undoubtedly could lead to a committed relationship should she play her cards right. While that would be an achievement in itself, a relationship with two remaining targets wasn't the best idea.

Too messy.

Too much pain should she become duplicitous enough to think flirting behind someone's back was doable; and Hitoka didn't have a duplicitous bone in her body.

Plus, while Hitoka couldn't be sure, it sounded very much like Fukurōdani's Vice Captain was giving her a watered-down version of the Shovel Talk™ the other night. Or a warning to stay away from his team.

She wasn't sure, but hell did she want to eat cake.

While around teen athletes, it was always best to refrain from indulging in sweets – though Kiyoko had promised that she and Kōshi would take her to a café over the weekend for their next meeting. It could have been teenage insecurities – or just Yachi's own brand of insecurity – talking, but the managers of the other volleyball clubs were all so pretty and well put-together compared to her. Kiyoko, as per usual, was on another level entirely; but in a way, she didn't count. Hitoka had doubted whether any of them secretly snuck off to scarf some snacks until she became properly acquainted with one Yuki Shirofuku.

At the time, Shirofuku was likely introducing herself again to Hitoka, though the latter couldn't tell from the obscene number of snacks Fukurōdani's manager had crammed into her mouth. The manager and the manager-in-training stared at one another; one chipmunk-cheeked and the other with a face that could rival a stone statue's.

[You're Yachi-Chan, right?] was Hitoka's best attempt at translating the potato chip-muffled mumblings of Fukurōdani's manager. The garbled speech hardly sounded Japanese anymore, and Hitoka speculated whether it was possible for Lays to become a language in itself.

"Mm," Hitoka nodded absently. "Shirofuku-San?"

Shirofuku smiled a very gummy smile. One that contained far too much starch and slobber for Hitoka's liking. She extended out her bag of chips. "Want one?" Shirofuku asked, almost guiltily.

"A-ah no thank-" Hitoka was about to refuse, but her stomach growled. "Yes please."

She took a few from the bag, and Shirofuku settled back into eating once more. Their conversation was heavily punctuated by long chewing periods and the odd obnoxious crunch that set Hitoka's teeth on edge.

"So," Shirofuku cleared her throat. "Why are you hiding?"

"Eh? I wasn't… I wasn't h-hiding? Me? Hide? N-no," Hitoka hastily shook her head. "You've got the wrong person."

"Ehhh? Well I've been here for ages. Long before you came and hid behind the trash can, that's for sure." Shirofuku scratched her chin, "Though I guess if you say it wasn't you, then I must have got the wrong person."

"It was me," Hitoka admitted with a frightened whine and teary eyes. Moving to stand closer to Shirofuku, and, naturally, the vending machine (which Shirofuku would feed more money into minutes into their conversation), Hitoka leant against the metal machine and covered her face with her hands.

Shirofuku was of the opinion that Hitoka must have been having a bad day, because wow, how much of a pushover could one person really be? If she'd threatened the younger girl and forced an answer, then sure, snapping and blurting out a confession could have been justified. But this? This made her feel a little bad.

"Hey, erm, do you want another chip?"

"No but thank you for off-offering."

"So, why are you hiding?" Shirofuku tried again to pry an answer out of the girl. "Is someone giving you hassle? Because I thought Karasuno's other manager would put them in their place before they so much as looked at you."

Shirofuku seemed to have a good handle on Kiyoko's character already, though Hitoka could have been easily fooled that Fukurōdani's manager's motivations and fixations solely revolved around food.

"S-she would usually, but she's been teaching me how to… to sort my own problems better." That sounded entirely too vague, yet not as straightforward as 'I need to snog your team's Captain, but I don't wanna, so I'm hiding!'

Once more, Hitoka had to translate from Lays-ese. She was almost certain that Shirofuku had said [I can respect that] around a gob-full of shrimp flavoured chips.

Shirofuku coughed wetly, folding the empty packet down until it resembled a thin strip rather than a pocket-like rectangle, before she manipulated it into a secure knot. "Still, if something is bothering you that much you should probably talk about it."

Your Captain is bothering me, was what Hitoka wanted to say. "I will," was how she responded.

"Look, I think this whole thing is ridiculous and made up, and really can't you see how uncomfortable Hitoka-Chan is these days?" Kōshi had planted his hands on his hips and had stretched out his posture to appear more imposing. He hoped that his unimpressed glare – the same that had been patented by his own mother and passed down to him for use with the club – would get Kiyoko to reconsider her ridiculous seduction lessons.

Kiyoko mimicked his posture, tilting her head back so that she could easily meet his eyes. Her nose turned upwards snootily; the svelte point of her chin tilted skywards haughtily, and her hair brushed back over her shoulders like the office ladies you saw on TV with their hair scraped behind their heads into a severe bun.

"You have no way of proving me wrong, though I can assure you this is a time-honoured rite of passage for all of the club's managers. Though if you boys had stopped to pay attention all those years ago you might have noticed how I flourished."

"Why would we notice? We've all only just about started noticing things about people around us at this age – "

"This is why what Hitoka is doing is so necessary, it was also why I did it. I wasn't always like this Sugawara-San. But I'd happily go through it all again if I could help in some way."

Kōshi snorted. "How is this helping? How is a training camp that's supposed to be fun for everyone involved – that's turning Hitoka-Chan into even more of a nervous wreck by the day – possibly helping?"

His voice had risen by unbearable levels with his last interrogative (even though this conversation was technically supposed to be hush, hush), and Kiyoko felt no other desire than to walk away from their tête-à-tête. Or to hiss at him like a wet, angry cat. Kōshi really didn't understand, even after all this time; both she and Hitoka had been wrong to try and include him. Kiyoko eyed the notebook cradled underneath her arm.

Perhaps, though there was no weight to the book, if she hit Suga just right on the head then he'd forget the events of the last few weeks and she could help Hitoka unhindered. Kiyoko knew that Kōshi was just worried for the girl – he worried for everyone in his own special (motherly) way – but by hovering and not allowing Hitoka to progress on her own, he would ultimately hinder her. That was partly the reason why Kiyoko had backed off drastically for the last couple of days. She wanted to see what Hitoka could do on her own.

"Have you seen the way he looks at her, Sugawara-San?"

"What happened to calling me Kōshi?"

"Have you, Sugawara-San?" Kiyoko pressed. Kōshi shook his head. "Bokuto-San is doing his best not to show it, but he's distracted. By her. Hitoka-Chan is doing so well, all without our help. I do not wish for either of us to interfere with her progress at the moment, but I still want to give her reassurance… I just, don't know how."

Kōshi, knowing that he was already losing the battle to begin with – and not liking how Kiyoko kept eying her notepad and then shifting her attention to his temples – sighed. "I get it. I do – honest," he added when she looked at him balefully.

"Then help me, please," Kiyoko implored. She wouldn't beg, she wouldn't stoop that low, but Kōshi wouldn't deny her help when she was in need.

"Who was the first person to really reach out to Hitoka-Chan?" Kōshi grinned madly.

Kiyoko nearly grinned right back. "Hinata-Kun."

"Then it's simple; we won't tell him all the details, just tell him Hitoka-Chan is feeling a little down and that she needs cheering up," Kōshi strategized. "It's might not be much to us, but he really connected with her in the first place."

"That might be difficult," Kiyoko murmured distractedly.

"How so?"

Kiyoko gestured to Suga's left, where Shōyō Hinata stood gaping with a volleyball clamped between his ashen hands. "Because he's overheard everything we just said in the last five minutes, Kōshi-San."

"Oh."

Turning on her brightest smile, Kiyoko turned to face the shivering first year. Poor Shōyō didn't know what hit him. Kōshi took the initiative, stepping forward and dragging the ginger-haired teen deeper into their clandestine conversation. Although, it was more like he had to pick Hinata up like he was a decorative plant pot or a garden birdbath; setting him down between Kiyoko and himself where Hinata dithered uncontrollably. Kōshi shook his head; he'd been in this situation before, though it was Hitoka and not Hinata who had been stuck in the middle.

"Say, Hinata, how do you feel about helping us out a little?"