Most Unfortunate - Haikyuu Daichi X Reader 🏐

PART SIXTEEN: My Captain in Shining Armour

Going through life means being hauled through an unforeseen series of events.

Such instances can be manipulated, swayed in a moment of better judgment or, perhaps, intuition. I'm a firm believer that it's possible to tell such hostile forces to shove it up there sideways and flip it Tweety Bird on the way out.

In my case, such forces come in the obscured form of a malicious, self-righteous, entitled Twat. Mimiko Yumi. Better yet, preferred and more accurately, 'Bitchzilla'. And rather than merely seeking to make like Dennis the Menace and cause trouble. It's a full-fledge vendetta. Her talon-like claws gripped tightly to what could surely make it into the Guinness World Records for the worlds largest spoon, stirring the worlds largest shitpot.

Every turn and door opened, regardless of the class or where in the school building. A gut rolling tension crawls through me. With a lack of better judgement, the hallway encounter felt like a victory in my court; serving a hot plate of 'go fuck yourself with a cactus' was revolutionary. Now walking across the polished rubber-lined floors, my spine itches, a chilling sensation settled.

I poked the bear.

Hard.

And as expected. The bitchy bear is prepared to Detroit smash me through seven layers of tradesman's hard labour, leaving nothing but a (Y/N) shaped hole in her wake. Which understandably seems rather dramatic. Yet, thinking back on the numerous hair flicks, stalking around with her obvious nose job turned upward, posse at the hip consisting of Dumb, Dumber and Inbreed. I feel like she and her machinegun laugh falls into her own dramatic category.

Callosal dictator.

~*~

The rhythmic tapping of steel against the hardwood desk is enough to make my eye twitch. The familiar aged man looks down his nose, back straight behind his public-school budget desk and eyes me with a stern glare, lips pursed in a thin line.

There is an unspoken tension in the air as the authority figure glowers down from his fanciful dais. Regardless of the sharpness behind that gaze, hilarity always bubbles up when you lay eyes on the famous jet-black toupee atop his egglike head —successfully fooling nobody. "Do you mean to say, you did not speak to Miss Yumi then?" The scepticism is adamant in the Vice Principals tone.

The chair behind his desk let out a tooth grinding sound. His body leans forward and sets the steel pen down, regimental with the identical stationery beside it. The V.P's hands tightly clasped, knuckles turning white. Jumping to conclusions is always a great way to make an ass of yourself. Maybe he isn't filled with rage? This could be the result of poor blood circulation. After all, he has been hanging around since at least the Bronze Age.

"Sir, Vice Principal. I think there has been a misunderstanding –." I was rudely interrupted as the tear-stained face of Mimiko Yumi blubbers, sobbing profusely, sleeves dabbing her reddened, puffy eyes, to which the man hands her a box of tissues.

I feel my brows pull together, observing the skilful actress as the baldheaded sucker comes to her aid, bowing like a daisy in the breeze. "Calm yourself, Miss Yumi. We will have this straightened out." That is the only thing I am thankful for and wholeheartedly agree with since planting my ass on the chair. Which I think has had the chance to grow to the uncomfortable plastic surface in how long she spouted accusations, pants undoubtfully on fire. Once the room had stilled, he began scribbling hard strokes on a piece of paper. "We welcome you into our school, and your gratitude is shown in physical and verbal violence toward our students. Disgraceful." The fury behind his words caused sweat to break out across my palms as I cringed into the chair. Clammy and numb, I tightly weave my fingers together, nervously placed in my lap.