(A/N): Hi everyone, I'm back with another Ushijima fic! This time, it showcases childhood friend Iwaizumi who is just a gem through and through. I had some other ideas with other Haikyuu characters but when this one came to me, I just started writing right away. It's inspired by specific lines in Grey's Anatomy and The Wind Rises (cannot reveal which or it will be spoilers hehe).
This one has no supernatural aspect to it and it's supposed to be an angsty slice of life story :) The overarching theme includes having a passion/dream for something and it's something I really admire in a partner so I wanted to have a go in writing about it. The original premise is actually from post-time skip but I thought it'd be more meaningful to show the early high school days. Enjoy!
P.S. I am feeling wild & posting this w/o my sister editing so I hope it's not awful
WARNING: reader has a name & so this is not a traditional reader fic
Chapter 1 – the way your eyes sparkleYou've known Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime your whole life, but you never had a chance to see them play volleyball until your first year of high school. They try numerous times to explain the game to you, but none of it ever really stays in your head.
You never really understood sports. It seems exhausting and you don't like the black and white concept of winning and losing. Shouldn't everyone be rewarded for trying their best?
Oikawa drills it in you that winning is everything. It shows that your hard work is truly enough. It's evidence that the blood, sweat and tears are worth it. Iwaizumi isn't as headstrong about winning like Oikawa, but his passion for the sport drives him to seek victory. It's gratifying.
Even if you don't really understand the concept of winning, passion is something you could understand.
Art is your passion. You've been drawing since you could pick up a pencil and your thoughts are always overflowing with artistic ideas. Your imaginative mind is always coupled with your whirlwind of emotions. This causes your ideas to constantly be jumbled up with your feelings and the only way you know how to express them is through a stroke of a brush.
You always want to share what you're feeling. You always want to connect with others. What better way is it than through your art? You wouldn't consider yourself an extrovert, but you find that you can live off others' energy. You love it when others connect with your work because it means that they connect with you. In some way, they relate to your sporadic emotions and it makes you happy to know you're not alone.
It's your dream to share your passion, your thoughts, your feelings through your art. You want to inspire others with your work, and you want to touch as many lives as you can.
You could never fully grasp the concept of pursuing athletics, but you can understand passion. You admire how hard Oikawa and Iwaizumi work to achieve their dreams. You feel especially lucky to be able to see that passion on full display right now on the court.
You watch Oikawa score another what others call, a service ace. You watch Iwaizumi nail a spike. They are your seniors at Seijoh and you couldn't have been more proud.
Why didn't you come watch them earlier? Volleyball brings out a light in them that you've never seen before. You never saw that sparkle in their eyes when you watched sci-fi movies in Oikawa's bedroom or ran around catching beetles as kids.
People are the most beautiful when they are passionate about something. They hold the spotlight in your eyes when they have a dream. Life is boring without ambitions.
You watch your childhood friends celebrate as they seal a spot in the prefectural finals. Today you understand a bit more about the foreign concept of winning. Seeing their faces light up reminds you that it's their dream to succeed in volleyball.
You run down the viewing galleries and excitedly pace around the gym entrance to congratulate them. It's your first time watching your best friends play and you're lucky enough to see them play in a finals match as well.
You perk up when you see other Seijoh seniors pass you in their white and teal jerseys. It isn't until you catch sight of the familiar perfectly kept wind-swept hair ahead of a head of dark spiky hair that you bound your way to the two tall figures. You leap into their bodies, grasping the back of their sweaty jerseys and look up at them with your brightest smile.
"You two are amazing!" you exclaim. "Congrats! You're going to the finals! Isn't that really good?"
Oikawa smugly scoffs, peeling your thin arm off of him. He puts on his tough, cool guy mask that makes other girls swoon, but instead, makes you cringe. "Youko, it's like you didn't even believe in us or something. We were obviously going to make the finals."
Your jaw drops and you retract your arms back, fists clenched by your sides. "Of course I believed in you. I've also never seen you play so you could've been all talk like usual, Tooru," you sneer.
Iwaizumi chuckles and gently rests his large hand on the crown of your head. He gives you a small smile as he ruffles your hair gently. He only started to do this once he grew taller than you. It started as a joke before, but the act has become more and more comforting. "Thanks, Youko," he grins.
You turn to look up into his gentle gray eyes and return the grin. "You're welcome, Hajime," you say sweetly. You turn and stick your tongue out at Oikawa, "I take back my congratulations for you, Tooru."
Oikawa readjusts the bag on his shoulder and scrunches his nose, as if you were an unwelcoming scent. "Yeah, whatever. When we beat Ushiwaka, you can congratulate me then," he huffs. He takes off in a cold manner, but all the years spent together tell you that he doesn't actually intend to leave you and Iwaizumi behind in that hallway. His steps are slower and shorter than his usual gait.
You turn to look up at Iwaizumi, lips twisting teasingly. "Ushiwaka this, Ushiwaka that. It's like he has a crush on the guy or something."
Iwaizumi laughs, patting your shoulder before taking off to follow his grumpy teammate. "Well, now you'll finally get a chance to see who Shittykawa's crush is."
"Ooo, he must have better hair than Tooru if he's caught Tooru's attention," you tease.
"Shut up you two!"
As much as you truly believed in your best friends, you also know that they're up against a strong opponent. Oikawa never stops talking about how annoying this "Ushiwaka" guy is and how he's too confident for his own good. He tells you how Shiratorizowa's so called prodigy is overhyped and he really isn't that good. People just give him too much credit for that swing of his.
Unlike Oikawa, Iwaizumi tells you that "Ushiwaka"' is actually an astonishing player and that his real name is Ushijima Wakatoshi. He tells you that once you see him, he'll really live up to the hype. Oikawa's just jealous because everything seems to work out perfectly for Ushijima in his volleyball career, unlike Oikawa. He'd never admit it to the two of you, but he's been struggling to overcome the obstacle of challenging someone who is born naturally talented.
You also sat through all the long discussions Oikawa and Iwaizumi had about their games, especially after a match with Shiratorizowa. They'd talk about specific plays, how they could've been executed better and how Ushijima just got lucky with his hits. They talked at length regarding how to stop him and how they wouldn't lose in straight sets again, whatever that meant.
You bite your nails as you watch the boy- no, man named Ushijima take another point from Seijoh. Like Iwaizumi told you, his swing is powerful and the sound the ball makes when it hits the gym floor makes the hair on your nape stand up. Even though he's only in his second year, he's definitely the star of his team.
It makes you anxious to see how rattled it makes your friends and you pray the cannon of Shiratorizowa won't be enough to take down Seijoh. It's only the start of the game but Seijoh is already in a deep 6-point deficit.
The first set ends rather quickly and your eyes dart to Seijoh's huddle. You notice Oikawa's head dipping a bit lower than usual and Iwaizumi's hand fisting the back of Oikawa's jersey. You glance over at the other bench and find Ushijima's hard, focused face difficult to ignore.
Even though all of Oikawa's complaints have the underlying message that it's unfair that Ushijima is born talented, you can see that volleyball also drives him. The way he plants before a jump, the way he lunges for a pass, the way his eyes sparkles when he scored. You know that Ushijima is also passionate about volleyball like your friends, if not more.
Ushijima single-handedly crushes your friends dreams and you should be sad, but a part of you celebrates with the man you've never met. The hints of contentment are so subtle, you're sure anyone else would've missed it if they weren't watching carefully. You watch the way Ushijima's teammates pat his back, telling him he had a stellar game. You watch the way the edges of his lips curve into a small smile when he thinks no one is paying attention.
He doesn't mean to crush dreams, he's just pursuing his own.
Oikawa and Iwaizumi don't seem as down as you expect them to be when they walk you home. For some reason, they seem even more fired up. They seem determined to work even harder for a chance at nationals in their next three attempts. Your conversation is rather light-hearted, and they analyze the game as per usual.
When Oikawa comments about how Ushijima got rather "lucky" with one particular hit, you can't help but chime in. "That Ushijima guy is actually kind of cool, isn't he?" you comment nonchalantly.
Oikawa sighs and shakes his head at you. "No, Youko. Also, you can't say those things around us. We don't like him."
You shrug.
It's almost a year later until Oikawa and Iwaizumi get a chance to see your eyes sparkle. You're offered an exclusive offer to be showcased in an art exhibition along with other established and upcoming artists. Even your athlete friends understand that having a showcase at your age is rare in the field, even if it's just for one piece.
For the longest time, you painted and repainted, throwing away countless canvases because you didn't know what debut piece you wanted to showcase. Even though you aren't completely happy with the one you settle with, it does represent a big part of you.
You want it to depict your biggest fear, a girl who's afraid to be abandoned in this vast world. You named your piece "Alone" to demonstrate what becomes of someone when they don't have anyone. Without intimate connections, we are but a shell of a human.
"This is amazing, Youko."
You grin. "You really think so?"
"Yeah, I feel like I can see a bit of myself in this piece," Iwaizumi muses. "I really like how you've shown how small someone can feel when they're truly alone. The way you painted the girl desperately clinging onto her withering heart, being hung by a single thread… It really hits home."
Your eyes glitter as you look up at Iwaizumi, whose eyes are fixed and calculating as they trace your dried strokes. Having someone understand your art means the world to you.
"This just looks straight up depressing, Youko," Oikawa jeers, his face twisting into a frown. His fingers are lightly gripping his chin which gave you false hope that he'd say something marginally intelligent. He yelps when Iwaizumi punches his arm, hard.
"Iwa-chan!" he whines. "You didn't have to do that! I didn't say it was bad, it just looks… dark. I just like bright, colourful art okay?"
You snicker as you watch the way Oikawa rubs his arm with a pout. "It's nice, Youko," he mutters, just loud enough for you to hear. You quirk an eyebrow when Oikawa's eyes widen, as if he just spotted a ghost behind you.
"What the hell are you doing here?!" Oikawa almost screams.
"Shhhhh!"
Oikawa looks over his shoulder and makes sure to return the dirty looks the other attendees give him. He then quickly turns to glare at the new visitor.
You blink twice when you identify the so-called ghost Oikawa spotted. You definitely never expected to see the Ushijima Wakatoshi at an art exhibit. It's a rare enough sight to see him in black trousers and a white collared top compared to his usual white and purple uniform. Your eyes can't help but notice the way his pecs bulge in his dress shirt. You shake your head. Now was not the time to be checking him out.
Your eyes drift to his face, eyeing him warily. Even in Ushijima's dressed up look, he still doesn't look like the type to be into expressive art. His brain seems to only be wired around volleyball after all.
Ushijima frowns marginally when he identifies the two males with you. It doesn't look like he was expecting to see them here either.
"I am viewing art. Why else would I be here?"
Oikawa's frown sinks deeper, ensuring intense wrinkles when he grows older. "You like art?" he asks disbelievingly.
"My mother does."
Oikawa sighs exasperatedly and he makes eye contact with Iwaizumi, jerking his head in Ushijima's direction while quirking an eyebrow. You know that look means that he wants Iwaizumi to do something about the "inconvenience" in front of him but you're not sure what Iwaizumi could even do in this situation. It isn't like Ushijima is doing anything to anybody. He's just here to look at art.
Iwaizumi sighs and rolls his eyes, something he does often when spending time with Oikawa. "Why don't you go look at your favourite bright, colourful art, Shittykawa?"
Oikawa's jaw drops as he looks at Iwaizumi in disbelief. "You're telling me to leave? Why don't you tell Ushiwaka here to leave? We were here first!"
"Why do I need to tell Ushijima to leave? He didn't do anything."
"He doesn't have to do anything to need to leave. He just has to."
Iwaizumi sighs. "You're being an idiot. Go leave if he bothers you so much. I'm going to stay here with Youko."
Oikawa throws his arms up in the air and storms off. Iwaizumi scoffs and crosses his arms, the bulge of his muscles doesn't escape you.
You nervously look up at Ushijima who has been watching the whole dramatic scene unravel with a stoic face. Even though it's about him, he doesn't seem bothered at all.
You reach out your hand quickly, regretting the fact that you didn't wipe the sweat off first. "Satomi, Youko. I don't think we've met."
Ushijima stares at your hand curiously, as if you were suddenly offering him suspicious candy. When he grasps your hand, you're overwhelmed by how his large hand engulfs yours. His fingers are rough and calloused against the back of your hand from years of volleyball. You're slightly relieved by the sensation; it'd be weird if a big guy like him had baby soft hands.
"Ushijima, Wakatoshi," he says with a nod. His eyes quickly dart to your piece, eyeing your signature. It's messy but it isn't illegible. "Is this your work?" he asks curiously.
You clear your throat, nervously eyeing your piece. Instead of the comforting warmth you felt when Iwaizumi analyzed your painting, you suddenly feel extremely hot knowing that Ushijima's now looking at it.
"It is," you confirm. You glance up at Iwaizumi, who shrugs casually. You're glad he can be mature around Ushijima, unlike that idiot Oikawa.
"It's nice," he states. His matter of fact tone makes you wonder if he even understands your piece. Somehow, the idea of him not understanding a wink doesn't bother you. It feels rewarding enough that he even gets to see your work.
"Thanks," you say genuinely. "You said your mom likes art? Is she here with you?"
"Yes."
"Oh. I see."
You quickly grab your bottle of water on the small foldable table by your canvas. You always feel the urge to drink water when you're nervous.
"She's one of the sponsors of the exhibition."
You choke, but thankfully keep most of the water within the confines of your mouth. Iwaizumi rubs your back quickly, telling you to cough it out if you need to. What were the odds?
You feel especially lucky when Ushijima's mother appears, lightly resting a hand on Ushijima's arm. You've never seen her before but somehow you know for certain that it's her. Her stiff and demanding air resemble Ushijima's but it's magnified ten more times.
You look up at the pair in horror. It doesn't seem like his mother has noticed your insignificant existent. You're a spluttering mess and you turn to cough into your elbow in hopes of clearing what's left of the unwanted water in your throat.
When you recover, you finally notice how fitting the mother-son pairing looks. Ushijima's mother has her hair up in a tight bun, the lack of baby hairs makes you stare a bit longer than usual. Her forest green pantsuit matches her expensive gold jewelry. Her posture is uncomfortably stiff, and it makes you shiver thinking a powerful woman like her is paying for a measly amateur like you to be showcased here.
"Who is this, Wakatoshi?"
"This is Satomi Youko, the artist of this painting."
You note how he doesn't pay any mind to Iwaizumi. You wonder if he even knows Iwaizumi's name. The thought quickly slips away as you watch Ushijima's mother inspect your canvas.
"And what is the name of your piece, Satomi?"
You gulp. You don't have it in you to tell her that the title is just above the canvas.
"Alone, ma'am."
You internally cringe. Calling her ma'am felt so natural but also so unnecessary. She just gives off an air of importance that makes you feel the need to be respectful.
You hold your breath as her eyes evaluate your work. You feel so naked watching her gaze gloss over your it.
"What do you hope to achieve with your art, Satomi?"
A bead of sweat drips down your temple and you quickly wipe it with the back of your hand. "I want to connect with others through my art. It's my dream to be able to portray my feelings through my work. I want it inspire others everywhere around the world."
You mentally pat yourself on the back for not stuttering. She hums, accepting your response.
"And how much are you selling this piece? I would like to purchase it."
You're still not really sure how everything unraveled, but here you are, awkwardly standing in front of the Ushijima residence with a bottle of wine and a basket of fruits. After meeting Ushijima's mother at your exhibit, she somehow develops a liking towards you and now you're here to meet a friend of hers who will supposedly help kickstart your debut. If they end up liking you, that is.
Instead of "ma'am", she tells you to simply call her Ushijima-san. You still have an itch in your throat to address her as "ma'am" or even "Ushijima-sama" just because you're honestly still intimidated by her authoritative aura.
Ushijima-san doesn't want tonight to seem like a formal dinner, so she tells you that you don't have to dress up particularly nice. Based on how the mother-duo was dressed at your exhibit, you decide to dress nicer than usual just in case. You borrow one of your mom's cocktail dresses hoping it's nice enough but also not too flashy. Your 17-year-old wardrobe did not prepare you for a dinner like this.
She also mentions that because she doesn't want it to be a stressful interview situation for you, she also invited her son home to have dinner. It seems all parents still believe the illusion that having teenagers close in age would mean they'd get along. The night was becoming more and more stressful by the minute.
You sit stiffly next to Ushijima who watches you carefully. Today he's wearing a pair of dark jeans and a navy polo and you practically boggle at him when he's not looking. Are his muscles big or does he just buy a size too small?
When Ushijima-san answers the door and returns with a small older man, you stand up abruptly to greet them.
"Satomi, this is Nagasaki Han. He is the art director for Open Vision, I'm sure you've heard of it. Nagasaki, this is Satomi Youko. She is the young artist whose work I recently purchased at the last exhibit."
You bow deeply at the hips, hands gripping your thighs. An art director? I should've honestly expected no less from Ushijima-san. "It's a pleasure to meet you Nagasaki-san." When you lift your head, you make sure to bow slightly to thank Ushijima-san.
During dinner, you find out that Nagasaki-san is a lot more light-hearted and bubblier in contrast to Ushijima-san. It makes you wonder how they're friends, but you're grateful that they are.
They ask you at length about your goals and dreams as an artist and your mouth gets uncomfortably dry from all the talking. As you expect, Ushijima doesn't get much of a chance to chime into the conversation. You feel kind of bad that he was called back home for this uninteresting dinner about you.
You eat a lot less than usual but you're glad Ushijima-san doesn't say anything about it if she notices. You thank Nagasaki for his time, and he tells you it's always exciting for him to meet aspiring artists with big dreams. He tells you you'll hear from him soon.
Despite Ushijima-san's cold demeanor, she instructs her son to walk you home. You thank her graciously and begin the awkward walk with Japan's so-called volleyball prodigy. It only hits you now that the odds of the two of you meeting through some random encounter with his mom are like one in a million. Maybe you were meant to meet.
"I've seen you play volleyball. You're really good," you nervously laugh. Way to break the ice, Youko, you shudder.
"Yes, I am aware."
Okay. Wasn't expecting that level of confidence. The commanding air in his voice reminds you of his mother, but instead of feeling intimidated, you feel intrigued. It must be nice to be confident in what you do.
"Since you've spent all night listening to me ramble about my goals and dreams, may I ask about yours?"
There's a long pause that you're not prepared for. By the way he works his jaw, you conclude that he just takes a long time to think about his answers. It's as if saying it out loud makes it more final. You kind of like that about him.
When he speaks, you're surprised you're able to see his eyes sparkle. It glimmers like the first time you watched him play volleyball. For a man of little emotion, you can at least see his passion.
"I want to be the ace my team can rely on. I want to be Japan's ace at the Olympics."