Forty Winks | K. Shirabu

┗ 𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘙𝘛𝘌𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘏 𝘞𝘐𝘕𝘒

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𝘛𝘏𝘐𝘙𝘛𝘌𝘌𝘕𝘛𝘏 𝘞𝘐𝘕𝘒:
— you prove me wrong too often.

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It was a mutual decision to settle in a diner near the school for their lunch break, opting to arrive quickly at the academic institution if the coaches call for them sooner. Scarcely, it was — since their schedules don't change unless there was something important to be announced or discussed.

The male in front of her dressed in his spare clothes as soon as they arrived at their own training gym. She was guilty enough to arrive late, hence not bothering to change into her own to consume more time. As compensation, she removed the zip-up jacket instead to cool off. The air was warm, not particularly too hot nor cold, but she found it a necessity to remove the clothing to contently ensconce herself on the seat. Removing the article of clothing, she laid it on top of her bag beside her—leaving her with the white tee she wore underneath.

Her arms were able to breathe as she sunk deeper in her seat in solace. It was a minute gesture, but she found him relaxing as well. He just came back from a match after all, too. She'll be more ashamed of taking his time to rest within the walls of his room if he did not just say those insulting words a while ago.

That reminded her of the need to push him. Perhaps she'll move the deadline tomorrow.

"You have anything to add?"

"I'll have the salad at the side."

He nodded, relaying the message as he summarized their orders. The waiter noted and disappeared from their sight to do his job. The place wasn't that large— it could only accommodate around 15 people at most. The interior didn't have any outstanding feature that differs them from other ordinary diners; what she liked about this place at least, was the smell. She couldn't quite put a finger on it, but the air perfume or whatever refresher they had instilled within the diner was so soothing.

The thought of eating tonkatsu within the next few minutes was mouthwatering, the accompaniment of soft music and the pleasant scent left her ecstatic.

"I can't believe I just discovered this place now?" It wasn't supposed to come out as a question. Yui placed her arms on the table, leaning closer to the platform as she simply looked around.

"What's so good about this?"

She glared at him. She was sure that the question didn't mean any harm - especially with the nonchalant look on his face, yet her instincts told her to retort defensively.

"You just can't appreciate the little things, Kenjirou." She stuck her tongue out, eyes silently judging his tastes before taking the stand for the menu and playing with it between her fingers.

"Your preferences are just outright strange."

"I beg to differ. My likes are normal, thank you."

He rolled his eyes at the comment before facing her completely. The female instantly noticed and returned the gaze; holding both the weight of the ocean and the serenity of the breeze within her blue irises as she maintained the contact longer than he expected her to. It wasn't filled with the innocence one ought to see in a teenager's soul. There was calmness in the waves dancing softly along the course, running from its destiny of being washed back upon the shore. There was calmness in the gentle rocking of the boat — the paddle turning direction to wherever she desired to go to. There was calmness in the horizon of oblivion as she looked towards the unknown with certainty that there was something worth past the borders of her mind.

There was calmness in her eyes, he perceived, for she had seen how horrid things can be.

He looked away.

"Are you still not feeling well?"

Yui buried her face in her arms, finding it odd that there was no sleeve that greeted her. It reminded her of that night and the fact that she hadn't returned the hoodie. She'll be damned if she did not remember before he did. As soon as she gets home, if she feels quite industrious and grateful, then maybe she'll wash it sooner.

"I can't help it." She whispered, all signs of harm leaving her words at the mention of what she was talking about earlier. "Believe me when I say that he looked scarier up close than their new recruit!"

He was aware that she merely stated that to not make the situation awkward with just her rants. If anything, he was sure that she was scared of his skills rather than his physical features. To think that what once she marveled at became the source of her dread too, he forced the question at the back of his mind— what exactly even happened?

She raised her head, turning to give him a brief glance, "The rate at which he was improving was the scariest. I don't think I'm imagining things. But, it really looked like he was trying new things out in a game that could cause their defeat in the tournament. If this goes on, I don't even want to think about it. And... well, I don't like the way he looks at people."

Shirabu raised a brow at the last statement, yet he chose to not question it. Instead, he scoffed, "Don't you believe in your own team?"

"I do— very much, moron. Shiratorizawa is the best."

"Then you're just thinking too highly of him. You're the one who said that he won't be able to carry the rest of the team by himself too."

"That's exactly the point— there's no guarantee that the rest of them will remain the way they are. When you see your tonkatsu coming your friend's way, you can't help but be jealous right?"

A deadpanned look was set her way; the analogy rolling off her tongue didn't sound, in any way, appealing to the topic. Who the hell would connect tonkatsu to volleyball?

"Not really."

She sighed, "You get my point. I've— I've never really acknowledged the Karasuno team's skills, aside from his. But after that time-out, when winning was within their reach..."

She was ashamed to admit that she wanted to see things from another perspective, just because of one look that she received from him. The idea haunted her and she didn't like the result if it continued to prosper out of her control.

"The more you tell me, the more I'm beginning to get convinced that it's not really about their skills nor the matter of winning or losing."

She squinted her eyes, what was he talking about?

"Yui, you just don't like getting proved wrong."

She bit the inside of her cheeks— what she was adamantly being so troubled about, he said with so much simplicity as though the answer was literally within plain sight.

Yui pressed palms over the surface in distress, "T— That's not true! Don't make it sound obvious at least!"

"Keep telling yourself that. If you were honestly worried, you would've talked to Washijo-sensei by now. This was the first time your assumptions about the result of a match went amiss. You were just terrified that someone proved you wrong, so you forced yourself to look at things differently. That foreign feeling kept you on the edge this whole time."

The female sunk in her seat, face buried within her arms. He couldn't see what expression she wore or what her eyes held, all he could was dark blue hair locks complementing the color of her shirt and the small earring she wore peeking through it.

There was a groan out of what he conceived as an absolute exaggeration as he heard her mutter along the lines of, "I hate you, Kenjirou."

Never in this lifetime will she tell him, that she loathed the fact that sometimes— he knew her better than she knew herself.