the boy in yellow • teruyama

8

tw: explicit language, physical fighting, minimal amounts of blood.

•

the baseball boys descended on the mosh pit like rabid wolves. surprisingly enough though, it was iwaizumi who threw the first punch after someone yanked oikawa out of his protective sight.

the mosh pit erupted into a brawl seconds after that. having now eighty kids, because the baseball boys made up a nice thirty five, this skirmish could only end so well.

takanobu kept yamaguchi and haiba back, deciding not to join the fighting. if anyone dare try to go after one of the peaceful boys, then he'd join. it didn't seem anyone would, as of now, since all the baseball boys were busy with the former mosh pit mess.

yamaguchi was frozen in place, and not just because the party was ruined within seconds. he despised fighting with every inch in his body. it brought him back too much to elementary. now, forgetting his team and friends, his dark eyes were looking around for any possible exit.

haiba dipped.

that's cool.

takanobu looks back at the slightly panicking yamaguchi, frowning. "moniwa just got hit over the head with a chair, i'm going to go beat someone up. stay here, yes?" he says, getting a half of a nod from yamaguchi before running off and into the mosh pit.

well, now he was alone.

yamaguchi's eyes abandoned the search for an exit and strained for anyone who he recognized, karasuno or not, that he could cling to. he really didn't want to be here anymore; where the hell was sawamura when you needed a father?

the boy's eyes kept looking before clicking into focus on a familiar blond. oh thank god, he thinks, walking briskly around the outskirts before latching himself onto the blond's arm—even though the blond was preoccupied with holding back a wild kuroo.

"kuroo, god damn it! calm down- oh hi yama," tsukishima was getting far past annoyed at the nekoma captain, but after seeing the pale yamaguchi, his attention drifted. "still not good with these?" he questions, just to be sure he knew what was wrong. the olive-haired boy nods vigorously.

"let me deal with kuroo, and then we can wait outside. akiteru can pick us up since i haven't seen sawamura."

"o-oh okay," he stammers, cursing himself internally for doing so. now really wasn't the time to be weak; he didn't join volleyball for nothing. baseball and soccer had some scary-looking guys on their teams, and these baseball blokes weren't letting down his assumptions.

tsukishima yanks kuroo's shirt back to grab the squirming teen, the ravenet letting out a huff before totally ditching the idea of a shirt. ripping it off, kuroo runs into the mosh pit with a war cry.

"fu- sorry yams, he's going to kill someone if i don't-" the blond turns around, his hands twitching with anxiety for what the overprotective captain might do if not restrained. yamaguchi nods in understanding, otherwise quiet, as he watched tsukishima chase after kuroo with an exasperated sigh.

yamaguchi looks out in the crowd, still trying to make some sense of it all. someone had ought to have called the police by so, being that there was no doubt going to be some blood flying from bloody noses or even worse wounds.

"not so cocky, are you now, huh?"

his attention, as did many bystanders, drifted to a low, guttural sounding voice. one boy, presumably baseball with what was in his hand, was holding up a struggling boy by the collar of his shirt, a yellow sweatshirt tied around his waist. yamaguchi sucks in a breath of 'oh shit' when recognizing the struggling boy.