Haikyuu Oneshots

🥀(AoFuta) Epitaphs 🥀

I originally wrote this on my Alt account to show people I know that I'm not complete garbage at writing 😀
This hasn't been proof read so just ignore the spelling errors 🥲
-Onion

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Kenji Futakuchi stood, with the sunset painted across his face. A kaleidoscope of colors were reflected in the morning mist.

He was a proud man but not so proud to say he could compete with the beautiful scene before him. But alas, all good things must come to an end.

The cloud above him grew heavy with rain and the air surrounding him threatened to choke him.

He turned from the landscape, his eyes watching the moon as it rises. He was uncharacteristically quiet as he turned away from the nature he longed for to head into the quiet city.

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"Futakuchi," Moniwa scolded him gently, calling his name to snap him out of whatever trance he had been in.

Futakuchi waved his arms apologetically before turning back to practice.

Moniwa glanced at Aone, the gentle giant who stood among them before glancing back at Futakuchi.

Aone nodded slightly before approaching Futakuchi. To anyone who didn't know him, Aone appeared as a large, scary man who didn't talk.

While he in fact was one of the kindest people Futakuchi had ever met.

Maybe that's the reason he fell for him.

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Aone gestured to Futakuchi as if to ask if he was okay but Futakuchi just blankly stared at him.

Futakuchi was normally extremely good at reading what Aone was trying to say but with his distracted mind, it was almost impossible.

And so Futakuchi walked away, not knowing what else to do. He could feel Aone wilting behind him as the one person who he felt truly understood him couldn't.

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Once again, Futakuchi stood, basking in the light of the sunsets. Normally he would try to ignore the stone pillars that jutted up every couple feet or so but today he looked down.

He read the epitaph on the grave in front of him. The words were mostly faded but he could make out one line:

"Loving Sister"

He scoffed at the message. To think that when he died, someone would write a message as bland as this on his grave. A message more like "she always did this when her friends were sad" or  "she always smiled like this" would have been more personal.

The message in front of him seemed cold, it lacked any sort of character and probably hardly represented the person who was buried beneath his feet.

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He turned away as the sun began to set, facing the dread of the city again, the cold, gray city that was as bland as the gravestone's message.

Kenji Futakuchi hates bland things.

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