Home - A Kenma Kozume x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1

You never had a particular interest in sports. Ever. To you, they were only sweaty men and woman trying to hurt themselves for no reason. The only things you were ever really interested in was relaxing and art.

When you transferred to Nekoma High you knew beforehand that their clubs wouldn't suit your style--Their art club wasn't even really a club just a space for kids to finish up school work at the end of the day. You originally transferred to Nekoma because it was closer to home than your old school, you weren’t happy about leaving your friends behind but at the same time you felt a sense of relief. You knew change was good, especially after some of the stuff that went down at your original school. All in all, you didn't have too many good memories there.

Although a fresh start seemed nice you still needed a club to maintain your advanced academic status though which was troublesome. It was too much to think about when you filled out the paperwork but the ever so vigalient staff are starting to pester you about it a few days in so you had to get thinking. All the clubs available were things you had absolutely no interest in and they all had to do with staying up late at night or staying late after school for no real reason. You preferred to spend your extra time at home relaxing and taking a breather after a long day of social interactions and learning. Your ideal day would have you sneak in a nap or maybe drink some tea while you drew a bit in your room.

By your third day you were used to being bumped and knocked in the wave of people on their way home after school. You learned that to avoid the crowd you could slip into a small hallway between classrooms and wait out the rush by saying there listening to music or playing a cat-collector app on your phone. Today, when you finally broke away from the sea of people and slid against your shaded wall you let out a sigh of exhaustion. It was never this crowded at your old school. You pulled out your phone and almost opened your app when you noticed a flyer on the opposite wall.

"A flyer…?” That wasn’t there yesterday. You reached over and peeled it off the wall, looking at it closely. “Manager wanted for the Nekoma Boy’s Volleyball Team, no experience required. After school/weekend practices and competitions.” You read it out loud, brushing your thumb against your lower lip in thought. Hastily scribbled with black marker after the words ‘Manager wanted’ was ‘preferably female’. Volleyball, huh? You sighed, not sure why you’re even bothering looking at it and went to toss it away when you noticed something else at the bottom. You held it up so you could see it in the light “Counts as club activity”. You pondered for a bit. It required after school hours and away competitions but at your other school the Volleyball Club usually did their own thing, neglecting their coach and manager and doing whatever they pleased.

After a few minutes you folded the paper and shoved it in your messenger bag, making your way back into the now almost empty hall toward the gym. Although it sounded familiar, you honestly couldn't say if you knew if Nekoma was a power school for volleyball. Before you even got close to the gym you could hear the squeaking of shoes on the polished floor, the smacking of hands on the balls and the balls on the walls but most distinctly were voices shouting command after command. When you got closer you could make out figures and the volleyballs themselves flying around in the air. Peeking your head through the doors you could see a good chunk of players bouncing balls against the walls and catching them, only to rinse and repeat. In the corner of the room you could see an older man watching each of the boys practice as he stood with his arms folded. You stepped inside, clutching your messenger bag strap close to your chest and making your way toward the older man whom you assumed to be the coach. When you got close enough you cleared your throat softly and tapped the man on his shoulder.

"Pardon...?” you tried to keep your voice low so you wouldn’t disturb the concentration most the players had. The man stopped what he was doing and looked at you, stepping back almost like you were a ghost. Once he regained his composure he stood up straight like nothing happened.