[on hold]
"Jesus, you are such a dumbass. Like, how do you just wake up one day and choose to take a walk, on rooftops."
"Verbally abuse me after you help me get down. Please."
Practically an orphan and deserving of sleep, she makes it through highs...
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can't we just hit skip? she fixes a mop
"Where's Wally? There he is!"
Ukai promptly chokes on whatever he was drinking. You stare as he spits out his drink like a garden sprinkler on a hot summer day. After a bout of silence between the two of you in the middle of the hallway, you finally spoke up, suppressing the urge to double in laughter.
"...my bad."
He only stares back with eyes devoid of any emotion.
"Don't, for the love of God, do that ever again."
"Right," you nod, "gotchu."
He brushes off imaginary dust off his red tracksuit, both of you ending up ignoring the droplets of coffee on the floor.
"So what do you want?"
There were two things you had to tell him, one was notes of the team you and Kiyoko worked on, containing abilities and skills, topped off with team formations and techniques. The other was about your daily consumption of meat buns.
So, of course, like the absolute mvp you are, you decided to inquire about the most important thing first.
"Where are my snacks, coach-bro?"
Truly, you are an intellectual being. Someone cuts off Ukai before he can even answer you, so you pout, because come on he's about to tell you where the meat buns had gone off to.
"Coach."
It was Sugawara, near the vending machine, popping out of thin air before you can even shout surprise. You pout further when Ukai chose to give his attention to Suga, flat out ignoring you.
An image of a paper bag with lines for arms and legs dancing flashes in your mind, under the cartoonily drawn sky and sun in a texture like crayons; it's straight out of a kindergartner's art project.
"Yes?"
It's waving it's arms at you, jumping up and down. A bee flies into frame.
"The third-years don't have a next year."
The illusion shatters immediately. Sending you back to reality, in the lit hallway of the inn, the gentle whirring of the vending machine, the cold tiled floors, and Suga is a third-year.
You shuffled closer to stand next to the coach. Suga doesn't really say anything to acknowledge your presence at the moment, but he briefly glances towards you before turning back to Ukai, who looked to be, in your words, disturbed and abused.
"I want to win as many matches as I can. I need a ticket to go forward." Suga's shoulder squares, "but I know Kageyama is more suitable."
The club can have as many members it can get, a hundred or even a measly twelve, but it doesn't change the fact that at the end of the day, there will only be six on the court to play.
