LET ME DOWN SLOWLY ⸻ sakusa kiyoomi.

𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐞 | making amends

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MAKING AMENDS !!

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JEANS, TURTLENECK UNDER A LONG, light teal sweater and hair somewhat carefully brushed up into a slightly wavy ponytail; I hope that I'm not overdressed - or underdressed for the meet as I scan my student ID on the train station reader, 3036 yen flashing on the green screen. The soles of my cotton-lined, black Fugu ankle boots pad lightly on the brick sidewalk, and the cold wind blows against my frame, prompting me to raise the zip on my black puffer jacket.

(There's no need to talk about why I'm following Korea's black puffer jacket trend for the winter.)

The Tokyo Metropolitan Art Museum is a series of low-lying brown buildings with a tawny sheen, a dark grey bridge of a building connecting the two main buildings together. On the ground level's outdoor area is a large, shiny silver metal sphere with a small oval hole on the top of the metal, reflective surface reflecting the mixed greenery and modern area in a somewhat contorted mirror image.

The museum not being a very popular area for most high school students on a Friday afternoon, and most desk jobs in Japan ended at around seven to nine, the mysophobic, germaphobic or bacillophobic ace of Itachiyama grudgingly sending out a list of places with a very likely chance of it being not too overpopulated having approved of this meeting place.

And hence the rather... outdated meeting place, if it ever was a meeting place for high school students, much less national-level high school athletes, in the first place.

Already standing a meter or two away from the sphere was the tall, broad-shouldered figure of Sakusa Kiyoomi, hands shoved into the pockets of his dark grey cloth coat, a dual-toned scarf of black and grey wrapped thickly around his neck and over his masked chin. Surprisingly, his form isn't in his usual state of boneless when near people slouch - his back's straight, maybe a little hunched over?

My steps slow down as I start to slowly approach the ravenette, coiling my cold fingers together. I can't help but feel a little nervous at facing the Itachiyama ace - today would technically determine the status of the relationship I had with Sakusa, and for some reason... that just made my perfectionist spirit stand out in an ugly shadow.

No matter how much I denied it in my head, to Miho, to my other friends, I wanted to try a hand at becoming friends with Sakusa. Maybe it was because he was Motoya's cousin, and I wanted to get along with my friend's family - or maybe it was an odd sort of fascination, that even though we will never face each other officially in court, I wanted to get to know him better. Analyse him to the finest details.

The pause in my stride was definitely something unnecessary. I had already embarrassed a shitton of myself in front of him, from that Sunday I wanted to (self-yeetus) delete myself from Earth to that idiotic cafeteria confrontation. I would also be somewhat putting my... life? Future? Down the line should I ever grow attached to said boy, thanks to a certain girls' volleyball club of the same school.

(Mostly Kousaka, though. Mostly her.)

I uncoil my fingers, smoothing the nonexistent creases of my jacket with my slightly warmer hands, and I shake my head, puffing out a breath of air before I walk toward Sakusa Kiyoomi. The normal public demeanour I hold is in place as I try to look as unbothered and calm as possible, footfalls light and expression neutral.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

- tokyo metropolitan art museum !