Fired Up - Haikyuu One Shots

The Quiet Kid

The Quiet Kid
Tsukiyama

I've never done trigger warning's before but yo, I don't want people to slap my fruit salad ass and ask what i'm doing with my life if not warning people about my writing uwu

So, TRIGGER WARNINGS:
- Guns
- Bullying
- Swearing

.

.

.

Tsukishima Kei was above everyone else. He knew it, and he thought others should know it too.

But it’s one day he becomes a little more humble, a little more lenient in his ways when somebody saves him in return for being saved themselves.

A freckled boy, hair as green as the weeds that grow outside his house, and a grin which could cause no other outcome but good.

Or at least that’s what he thought.

It’s a sunlit day. The clouds brush the tops of the mountains that stand tall, almost as tall as Tsukishima at a staggering lanky height for his age.

He’s walking along the sidewalk, the sound of his own feet keeping him company when he suddenly hears it.

The crescending yelling. It’s loud, it’s disrupting.

The people who create it need to know just how rowdy they’re being.

Tsukishima pushes on ahead, turns the corner to reveal the conception of noise. But it’s not something he thought it might be.

It’s a boy.

He’s down in the dirt, on his back, and pushing up from the ground on his elbows to face the three kids standing above him.

“You’ve got to bulk up so you can carry out bags!” one boy sneers with a laughing gesture.

Their shadows cast down on his face as tears well up, the freckles scrunch in the creases around his eyes where he flinches as they yell at him.

But suddenly those shadows clear when Tsukishima arrives and all three boy’s heads pivot to look at him. He towers over them, towers over their ill need to feel bigger than others around them by pushing them down - Literally.

He can see the boy cease in his crying.

While the other three look up at him, a little anxious and a lot disgusted, the boy seems to be looking up at him with awe and disbelief.

“What’re you looking at?” a black-haired boy jeers.

“Hey, isn’t a sixth-grader?” the boy next to him says.

He kind of looks like a stringy coconut with all that brown hair that falls around his face.

Tsukishima cocks an eyebrow at them, eyes swimming with judgment and maybe a little lust. Who can blame him? Yknow.

“No, he’s from class three” the black boy rolls his eyes.

“Lame” Tsukishima huffs a laugh.