𝟸 & 𝟺

-twenty-six-

"As a former member of the Japan National Team, I would like to introduce the MDV teams to new coach, Kody Hamada..."

As a former member...

...Japan National Team....

...introduce the MDV teams

...to new coach...

...Kody Hamada.

Was this reality? Was this some form of a undeniable curse? A short form of a never ending nightmare?

You looked to your hands, that shook with the thoughts of the past rushing back. You could feel how your body stood unstably on the edge of your feet, about to stagger and run out. You could've felt the cold sweat run down the side of your face, down your temples and through your shirt.

You looked to Daichi, who had no better condition. His arms were still to his sides, stuttered against his body. His eyes were darted, alert. Like he had been on a withdrawal, and saw his addiction for the first time. He was anxious, scared and angry. All at once. It was such a rarity you don't know such a deadly combination existed.

You looked over, slowly regarded the stature and existence of Kody Hamada. Coach Hamada. He didn't deserve such a title for someone who stripped athletes away of their pride and joy. He should be a killer, but he has no blood on his hands to be convicted.

That's how he got away with so much more.

You looked over him once more, seeing how such a figure hadn't changed at all. His hair still was brushed over, jet black and almost glazed with softness. The bottom half had still been buzzed right off, styled in the undercut fashion.

If you were so inclined, you would compare it to Terushima's hairstyle. Although those two didn't fit on any level together.

Suga would've disagreed, had he known what he did to kids at Izumitate.

He was just as clueless as Ukai, who stood to the side as the quietest moments passed, people only gawked and overlooked him as he kept making his small steps into his entrance.

What a fucking show boat...

You looked to his tattoo sleeve, that had not been added to since, which was a real shocker. His arm was still covered with the winding dragon, bursted and surrounded with huey flames and iridescent shards from broken glass. The black smoke still tried to encase it all together.

It was as if he tried to resemble a member of some mafia gang, but didn't want to have the literal association. Perhaps a Yakuza wannabe?

Nah, he wouldn't survive on the same block as them. At least you thought that every time you looked to the winding dragon, breathing flames from his forearm down to his upper wrist.

Something that was undeniably noticeable, and that hand the changed for a mile, was how his build, stature and all was ruthlessly arrogant. How he stood, chest opened and extended, with the lousiest and most putrid grin stuck to his face. He had the audacity to fold his arms, flexed his forearm muscles and tried to extend his toned biceps as to somehow intimidate or improve his look

He looked like a lost man in a gym, trying to figure out a simple workout plan. He just thought flexing would get him out of it.

Such a douche...fucking douche...

He looked to you and Daichi, with more than enough enthusiasm. It was almost alarming how much enthusiasm such a demonic person could create for such a reunion.

He smiled, and gave a smirky kind of look, "if it isn't my Star Izumitate Players...!" It almost sounded as if he hesitated on the last part of the greeting.