1.
It is a slow, steady rain.
As malignant clouds slip away, the low rumbling of thunder sounds; the springtime storm is moving slowly, but there is a small break in the clouds where the sun seeps through in small, thin streaks of light.
Matsuda Hiyori cups her hands against the glass and peers out through the rain-streaked window, her breath crystallizing on the cool surface. In front of her is a sleepy town, tucked in gray shadows; the school itself is set up on the highest hill, overlooking windy streets, old homes, and family-run stores. Her eyes skirt downwards, towards the school's front gates, then further down to the doors, where students are ducking underneath their umbrellas.
She is in search of something — or, rather, someone. As the final chime of Karasuno's school bell sounds, the halls swell with students. She hears boys complain about bicycling home in the rain, girls talking about afternoon plans now cancelled. Outside, wispy gray clouds hang low around the nearby mountains, the foliage glistening in the watery sunshine.
Still, Hiyori does not see him. If she strains herself, she can see the school's gymnasium on the far side of the main building, its doors opened wide with nets drawn over the entrance. She peers over there, and beside the set of doors, a shelving unit with a few pairs of shoes neatly tucked inside is just in her view.
There.
Hiyori withdraws from the window, turning away from the framed, sleepy clouds and makes her way down the halls. As she passes through the throng of students, she reaches into her bag and withdraws her purse, remembering that there is a vending machine just around the corner of the gymnasium. She catches a pair of coins in her hand before she places her purse back inside the bag.
By the time she climbs down two flights of stairs, makes her way through the southern hall and reaches the outdoor walkway, the crowd has thinned. She can hear soft chatter as she crosses over the threshold and into a loggia, which leads to the gymnasium.
Outside, the air is still damp, the rain pooling in the lower pits of the ground and cement. As she ascends the worn, shallow steps, Hiyori stumbles and drops her coin.
A young man dressed in Karasuno's gym uniform, who walks up behind her, leaps to retrieve the coin and assist her. However, they both reach towards it with such quickness that their foreheads strike as they both bend down.
A white flash shoots across her eyes, and Hiyori blinks fast to regain her bearings. She does not know what has hit her so hard until she looks up at his face, dizzied; the sun behind him dazzles her eyes, and he is so handsome with his brown eyes, high arching cheekbones, and the curve of his unshaven jaw. She can hear the panic in his voice as they recover from the collision.
"I'm sorry! Are you okay?" He presses one hand against his brow while the other extends toward her, holding her coin.
Quickly, she stands upright again, rubbing the sore spot in the center of her brow. The strike was jarring, but she is not hurt. What pains her the most is the embarrassment—heat blasts underneath her cheeks, and she bites down hard on her lower lip.
"I'm the one who should apologize. I was too clumsy," she says, her voice one octave higher than normal. "Thank you. That was kind of you."
They bow automatically, showing their respect, and their skulls collide again; this time harder, so much that Hiyori gasps. The young man recovers sooner than she does, and is quick to bow again—this time, at a safe distance.
"I'm sorry!"
"Asahi-san, what are you doing outside?" She knows the sound of this voice: Hiyori looks over her shoulder at Ennoshita Chikara, a boy her age with dark hair, large brown eyes, and a face too round to be classically comely. He is in the loggia behind them, dressed in the same black uniform as Asahi. When Chikara looks up and sees Hiyori standing at the entrance too, he blinks and furrows his brows. "Matsuda-san?"
"Ennoshita-san, I was looking for you," she says, with such marvelous composure that she surprises herself. Hiyori leans over to retrieve an object from her bag and steps away from Asahi, extending her hand towards Chikara. "Here. You left this in the classroom."
Chikara is surprised, but takes the notebook. "Sorry about that. Thank you for bringing it here."
Hiyori waves her hand, dismissing the formality. "It's no trouble," she says, tucking a strand white-gold hair tucked behind one ear. "Then, if you'll excuse me."
She bids the two farewell with a bow, her face flushed and turned towards the smooth stone on the ground.
.
Hiyori slips into the courtyard, which is empty of all but the fallen leaves. Away from the gymnasium, it is cool and quiet; the breeze is delightful, the air fresh with the smell of rain. Once she reaches the vending machine, Hiyori leans against its side and puts a hand to her heart, as if to keep it leaping out of her chest.
Her mind replays the incident again and again, and each time she sighs in exasperation. She wants to push it out of her thoughts, to forget that it ever happened, but the more she wills it away, the more the thoughts come back. She sinks down, embarrassed, and covers her face with her hands.
She does not know what she wants to do. She thinks that perhaps a drink will help, something to distract her from thinking about it, but it takes her a few minutes more for her to convince herself to stand up again and move to the front of the vending machine.
Once there, she catches a glimpse of herself in the glass. She looks miserable: her bangs are slightly messy, her eyes are wide, lips parted, and she quickly turns away when she sees the vibrant red color on her cheeks. She reaches forward to put the coins into the slot, to pick something cold, something to ease the heat that is burning underneath her skin.
However, as she extends her hand to insert her coins, she opens her palm and sees that she is one coin too short.
.
"Asahi-san, did you hit your head on something?" The question echoes in the gym; Chikara is standing at the entrance, changing his shoes as Asahi sits against the pole of the net. He is turned mostly away from the door, and Chikara thinks that he is sulking. "Your forehead is red."
"A-ah, well... I suppose I did," Asahi stammers, looking down and fidgeting with the coin in his palm. When he looks at it, a dark shroud passes over his features, and he sinks his face into his arms.
In all of the excitement, Asahi never actually gave the coin back to her. This is the worst possible scenario: what will she think once she realizes it is gone? Will this start a new rumor? Already people think that he repeated his third year multiple times and distributes illegal drugs, but now a thief?
Asahi curls his hand into a fist and presses the coin hard into his flesh. If he can return it to her, then surely he can avoid such a huge misunderstanding.
"It's, um," Asahi begins, peeking up at Chikara, "Matsuda, is it?"
Chikara pauses and frowns curiously at Asahi. "Yeah. Matsuda Hiyori-san."
"She's in your class?" Asahi asks. First and second years are always afraid of him; will she be scared, too? He thinks that perhaps it will be best to have Chikara handle such a thing, since he is bound to see her again anyway—and also not likely to scare her off.
With that resolution, Asahi squares his shoulders a bit more, straightening his neck again, and opens his palm. "Could you return this to her for me?"
Chikara eyes the coin warily, understanding Asahi's intentions. To hide. To run. "Don't you think you should be the one to do it?" he counters, wearing a knowing smile that makes Asahi ill at ease.
"Oh. Well... Yeah, I guess so." Asahi drops his gaze, his voice suddenly very, very small.
There is no avoiding it: he will need to return it to her. Defeated, Asahi slouches his shoulders and looks down at the coin in his hand.
The next day, then. He will return it to her in the morning.