Hey guys!

Thank you so much for checking out this story. So, the idea came to me a couple of nights ago and I hope you enjoy the beginning.

Feel free to critize, as long as you are kind! I am here to write and improve after all.

See you next time,

Aravae

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, places or story of Haikyuu, except my own. I don't want to earn money with this story and so on and so on. You know the drill.

The high school was a rough place to be in. Anybody who'd been there and survived knew that.

Like a wild jungle in the middle of nowhere, predators prowled around and prey covered in fear every time they sensed danger.

Some took the form of beautiful, but gossipy girls; others were strong and independent, young men. Sport addicts, fashionistas, future scientists, artist and musicians. Nerds, teacher's pets and weirdos.

No matter what they looked like or who they were, you could never be certain if you had a prowling cat in front of you or a fawn that just tried to survive.

All bets were off in this environment.

Although, there was one thing they all obeyed to: just as in the wild, there were rules to follow; fundamental guidelines that formed this small and delimited society and defined behaviour, order of standing and form of address.

For outsiders, it was baffling, but as soon as the first-years stepped into the building for the first time, they signed an invisible contract. It took them only a few weeks to learn these new rules and behave accordingly and as a sworn brotherhood would do, they kept to themselves.

One of those rules was as followed:

Don't get in the way of Ichigo Takahashi if she's mad. Don't ask her anything, don't talk to her, don't even look her way. If she comes in your direction, turn around and run.

Simply put: don't get in-between her and the cause of her fury.

It was an easy rule to follow as she seldom went totally ballistic. Today though, was one of these days.

Dripping wet and with an expression that screamed murder, she walked through the corridors of Nekoma High and cursed the gods for her rotten luck. As she had no one in particular she could pass the blame to, there was nothing left but to glare at anyone who dared to look in her direction.

Not only had she been late to school that day, but she missed morning training as well and received quite the lecture from her coach. In front of her team.

No.

Right after lunch she accidentally stepped into the only corridor in school that had to be cleaned thoroughly with water after the stink bomb attack three days ago. She was drenched within seconds and – of course – had no dry set of clothes in her locker. Just great.

Kenma had a lot of questions to answer later as he didn't stop her from going down that corridor. He simply walked off playing games on his phone and was missing ever since. He probably sat on the roof right at this moment and played his stupid games. What a friend he was.

But that still wasn't enough.

Just a few minutes ago, her captain summoned her to a meeting. Yaku had had the decency to inform her about it, but couldn't stop the laughter from spilling out of his mouth. He was the next one to die.

Meetings were nothing out of the ordinary - not for her captain at least. He wanted to know how every member of his team was doing on almost a daily basis – but he summoned her. Mind you: summoned! Not asked.

Was she some slave he could toss around however he pleased?

Definitely not!

Ichigo pursed her lips and sent a first-year running with her glare. It just had to be break and the corridors were full with students who jumped to the side as soon as they saw her.

She couldn't stop the curious stares and whispers though. Rumours were nasty things to handle and she literally saw them flying around in the air. Not long and the whole school knew that she ran around in wet clothes promising murder to anyone who stepped out of line.

It suited this horrible day.

Her brown hair still stuck to her forehead and her clothes were hanging from her form. They were starting to dry, but coldness crept into her body and she shivered. Two lessons and training were on her plan for the day still and she didn't have time to go home and change.

Ichigo huffed and massaged her temples. A headache was starting to grow, but who could blame her poor body? He told her to just go home and lay in bed until the day was over.

Maybe she should listen to it.

The tall, young woman rounded the next corner and her destination was in sight: a small room that was usually used by groups during projects. They held their strategy and team meetings there as they learned that during training, no one was concentrated enough. They all wanted to train this technique or that sequence again until it worked – with the exception of Kenma who couldn't stop paying attention.

Ichigo wondered who would be there today. Yaku hadn't made the impression that he was invited. Maybe, the coach wanted to speak to her about a sequence or the upcoming interhigh tournament.

Not that there wasn't enough to talk about, but the time was pretty unusual and she thought that the important topics had been covered the day before. Kenma was their main setter and she the substitute, no questions asked.

Ichigo halted in front of the door and breathed in deeply. There was no sense in being frustrated or furious right now but she couldn't stop the feelings from bubbling up inside her. It simply wasn't her day and she had the feeling it wouldn't go up from here on out.

Whoever was behind that door, he was in for a ride. Tetsurō especially as she had asked him to be more polite all throughout her first year in high school. He had yet to learn.

Without further ado, she grabbed the handle and stepped into the dimly lit room. The blinders were closed and there was no one else inside.

Except one.

It was the first clue that something wasn't right and that her day was going down the drain. Other participants should have been there by now. And no trainers? That was a first.

Instead, a hand grabbed her arm and yanked her to the side, right against the wall. The door closed behind her with a loud noise and shut out the racket from the corridors.

"Wha-?"

Ichigo winced and all fury drained from her when she looked into the face of her captain.

"Took you long enough." Kuroo Tetsurō was an intimidating person if he wanted to be. He was a little bit over a head taller than her and had her caged between the wall and his body without effort.

"Now", he said, "Let's have a little chat."

He wore the expression of a cat that got the cream and Ichigo swallowed hard. He couldn't know, could he? She had been careful. Never speak too much to others, keep your head down, act normal and copy from good examples if necessary. She had lived with these rules all her life and it had worked each and every time. Over and over again, she fooled the people around her until she even fooled herself.

You see, she might be a girl, but the school records stated that Ichigo Takahashi was a boy. A thin boy with nothing that turned heads, but still a boy.

Ichigos stomach dropped and she fought for control over her own body.

'Calm down', she thought, 'He doesn't know and only pokes around a bit. If you don't give him an inch, he will never know."

The world thought that Ichigo Takahashi was a boy. She acted like one, she dressed like one and she played sports like one.

In the end, she wasn't though. There was so much more to her act than she let on and the consequences if someone found out, were unimaginable.

So, Ichigo steeled her expression and willed the blush down that threatened to show.

Tetsurō was good-looking and a flirt and he was well aware of his impression on women. She had seen his act over and over again and by now was able to turn around with an eye-roll and act unimpressed.

So why weren't her defences working now?

In a critical moment like this, she had to summon all the strength and willpower she got and now had to deal with something trivial like a blush too. How embarrassing! Good for her that her father couldn't see her now.

"I don't like liars", Tetsurō growled, "So why don't you tell me who you really are. Or what?"

He leaned closer and Ichigo pressed her body as much as possible into the wall, wishing that it would swallow her whole and be done with it.

"I have no idea what you are talking about, captain", she stated flatly. In her head, she patted herself on the back for acting so nonchalantly. Just as she needed.

Tetsurō huffed and a cat-like grin spread across his face.

Ichigo should have listened to her body and went home the moment the opportunity presented itself. She wasn't equipped to win a staring contest with her fearsome captain – her clothes were still dripping after all and the headache became even worse – and she certainly didn't take into account that he was a cat through and through: cunning and resourceful.

So when his hand landed on her waist and slowly moved higher, she couldn't contain a squeak that she – to her dying breath – denied doing to anyone who asked. No one had come this close to her before and being the innocent idiot that she was, she didn't expect someone to be.

It was enough the break her concentration.

The blush now spread across her face uncontrollably and one look into his face was enough to know that he was onto her.

"Interesting."

A lump formed in her throat. She had to weasel her way out of this as fast as possible!

"I knew there were some rumours. Who would have thought?"

Ichigo slapped his hand away and straightened. He wanted to play? Good. She was no mouse that squeaked and ran for cover.

She got herself into this mess and she would get herself out again. As she always did.

One question though remained under all this fight and strength:

How did she get into this mess in the first place?