☁︎ ┆ ❝ The future belongs to those who believe in the beauty of their dreams. ❞
As of August 2022, this book is currently undergoing major editing and revisions. It will be updated periodically when I finish editing chapters.
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———— C H E E R C A P T A I N kenma kozume
w a r n i n g s : none c a t e g o r y : slow burn fluff ————
The bright lights. The piercing squeaks of slick shoes against the freshly waxed and polished court. The excited fans who stomp their feet and chant even louder. The pep band's arsenal of jazz arrangements fight for dominance, infusing the atmosphere with restless energy. The thick, medicinal scent of muscle balm lingered, familiar and almost comforting beneath the chaos. It could mean only one thing: game day. And everything is neatly tied together by a glittering white and red bow with poms to match.
"Kenma!" Kuroo's voice cuts through the noise, frantic and commanding.
Kenma's head snaps up, blinking away the distraction which continues to cloud his mind. He looks to the team and follows everyone's gaze upwards— back to the present, but not fast enough. Significantly slowed, but the impact of receiving the ball to his head knocks him off his feet, sending him sprawling across the polished, sweaty floor with an echoing thud. Another point lost, another avoidable mistake.
The referee's whistle blew, signaling the end of the rally. A collective sigh of disappointment falls upon Nekoma as they half heartedly utter fighting words with what is left of their depleted spirit. It's already the third quarter with a deficit of eight points. A comeback seemed almost impossible with their setter exhausted and unfocused.
As Kuroo offered Kenma a hand and lifted him to his feet, Kenma's gaze slipped again—inevitably—toward what truly stole his attention: the sidelines, where red and white shined brighter than any jersey on the court. Dressed in polished white shoes, a pleated skirt which flutters with every little movement or kick, and a smile painted a brilliant cherry red, you rustle your poms as you engage the crowd in a fan-favorite cheer once again.
The game may not be looking in Nekoma's favor, but that didn't stop you from smiling and cheering your heart out on the sidelines; energy of that magnitude is infectious. You remain unrivaled in your passion and spirit—a force of encouragement, a living reminder to keep fighting. Kenma couldn't help but be enraptured by your charm: the Captain of the Cheerleading Club.
He swallows thickly, his gaze wavering between the court and the sidelines. As much as he dreams of walking up to you, striking up a small conversation, it seems destined to remain just that—a dream. A day the two of you would cross paths spontaneously didn't seem likely so he usually left his curious infatuation repressed to the depths of his mind. Unless, of course, the situation is urgent, demanding his full concentration—like now.
"Ow. What the hell?" Kenma snaps, flinching as he reaches for the new sore spot on the back of his head.
"Focus," Kuroo snaps back, lowering his hand having given Kenma a piece of his mind—literally. "You're distracted and it's not helping the team."
