Hereafter | Haikyuu!! Oneshots | Hiatus!

I: The Strong

I remember the first time I met him.

I'd forgotten something, a cardigan, perhaps, in the gym and was running to go and get it after school let out. When going into the room to get my item of clothing, I'd neglected the fact that the boy's volleyball team would be practicing there and stumbled across. The interaction didn't play out too smoothly, as everyone's eyes were on me the moment I walked in, but it was at that moment that I got my first glimpse at the topic that would never cease to fascinate me. 

The next day in the newspaper club, I was assigned to do a report on how the Shiratorizawa team performed in the Spring Tournament for volleyball. Knowing that they had been the students I bumped into the day before, I was initially completely against it. How odd would it be to interview the very people you embarrassed yourself in front of? 

When I was told I would be taking the bus with them to the tournament, I almost opted out. But after a lot of consideration and possibly a few bribes of small candies, I agreed to the task that nobody else wanted to do because our school's volleyball team was "too intimidating." No matter how uncomfortable I was, I had to do the report, lest I wanted to face the wrath of the club's President. 

As I boarded the bus and took a seat amongst the crowd of athletes, I silently hoped that everything would go smoothly, and it wouldn't end in absolute disaster. Shiratorizawa was a very proud school that boasted its volleyball team amongst many other achievements -- I couldn't half-ass a report. But hell, I didn't even know what to write about. I had no background in volleyball, was barely acquainted with most of the players, and hadn't even the slightest clue as to who I should interview.

In the midst of my thoughts, I didn't notice that a figure had taken a seat next to me. Only when they tapped my shoulder, then did I realize that I was sat next to Shiratorizawa's ace:

Ushijima Wakatoshi.

With wide eyes, I just stared at him, unsure of what to say or how to introduce myself. He was tall, dark, and handsome -- everything everyone whispered about when roaming through the halls. Averting my eyes as he shifted in his seat, my face bloomed into vermilion and the tips of my ears were flushed pink.

I would be lying if I said I didn't find him attractive. 

But I sighed at the thought and fiddled with my fingers, knowing that even if we were to get close, our relationship dynamic would always be the interviewer and the interviewed because of this chance first meeting. I sighed again and started to space out until I heard Ushijima's voice ring out from behind me.

"You're interviewing us for the newspaper, right?" Startled, I blinked out of the trance I was in and immediately gave him a smile, nodding as I did so. He hummed and considered the idea for a moment, as if he was desperately trying to remember something. After a few moments, he seemed to brighten up and come to the thought he'd been brewing in his head.

"It's (Y/N) (L/N), right?" Caught off-guard, I raised my eyebrows in disbelief and laughed a little, finding it amusing that such a famous figure at my school knew of me.

"Wait, you know who I am?" 

"I read a couple of your articles before. I enjoyed the one about how reforms in our school could impact the faculty and students positively. It's good to see that someone still cares about the conditions we learn in." Finding his response oddly touching, I felt my cheeks get warmer and my heart start to beat faster. Just by this one answer, Wakatoshi had managed to create an comfortable atmosphere. Intentional or not, I appreciated the gesture and went on to ask a few questions, trying to get to know him better.

His replies were blunt and straightforward. And although sometimes they lacked the right amount of emotion, I still found them exceptionally endearing. I'd learned he was a second year, just as I was, and that his favorite food was Hayashi Rice, though I never remembered asking that question. The other information was elementary, in the sense that everybody already knew it, so I didn't bother writing it down. 

It wasn't until I asked the last question did he give me something unexpected, something worth mentioning.

"How well do you think your team is going to fare during the match?" 

The brown-eyed male didn't hesitate before stating his answer, as if his response was already predetermined. 

"We're going to win."

He looked at me with such calmness and such certainty that was so striking, so elusive. My eyes widened and my mouth shut. I was simply so nonplussed at such pride coming out of him. He was bold and blunt, all characteristics of someone who was at the top, but somewhere in my subconscious I think I hoped that the moment was fleeting, that I would never be able to see that expression again. 

Had I been turned off by this character?

Or was it because I didn't believe in his truth?

This idea was such an out-of-the-blue notion that I thought nothing of it at the moment. Awkwardly thanking him for the interview, I turned my face back towards the window so I could finally break away from his gaze.

I imagined that he did the same. 

__

The games that proceeded were undoubtedly life-changing. 

I watched from the bench as Shiratorizawa crushed every single one of their opponents with absolutely zero room for error. As they worked and weaved their way to the final round, I stared at them, awestruck at the magnitude of raw power they exuded. But although each individual player was polished enough to hold their own, their attention seemed to be fixated on Ushijima -- as was mine. 

Through countless points and landslide matches, I watched as Shiratorizawa conquered. Their determined faces were burned into my memory and the guttural screams of hope that they all shouted silently forever echoed in my ears. 

But above all else, I remembered the spike that had shattered me, that shattered the arena and left the floor covered in smoke and broken dreams.

It was Shiratorizawa against Date Tech. 

They were in the second match, and the purple-clad figures were already dominating the scoreboard with 17-12, and had won the first game easily. I was furiously taking notes in my journal, trying to capture the indescribable feelings and slap them onto paper so I could try to recreate the very helpless but oh-so propitious emotion. There was nothing that needed for them to be desperate about their pursuit of victory. There was no need for them to apply all their might in order to obtain the win.

When Ushijima jumped, my head lifted and I never blinked. His arm drew back and his feet lifted off of the ground, thighs clenching and muscles tense. 

Did I know what was about to come?

No.

I dropped my pencil and just watched. 

That resounding boom. His figure, seemingly floating in the air as he delivered the spike effortlessly. He was still in the air as the ball bounced off of the ground, completely missing the opponent's arms. The way he arched his back and prepared his core for the powerful shot made the shivers of anticipation shoot through my body. 

It was almost as if I could feel the his prowess. I could feel the power that surged through him in the form of adrenaline in my bloodstream. Oh, such a splendid feeling. Though as brief as it was, I relished every moment of it with sparkling eyes. A mix of longing and fondness brewed inside my soul, tainting my thoughts with an odd reminiscence. 

It was in this period that I came to a realization. 

We were from two different worlds, him and I. 

He was so powerful, enchanting -- I couldn't peel my eyes away from the sight that was him.

He was perfect. He was the ideal spiker. The devil amongst a team laden with imperfection.

That night I wrote the entire report about the landslide victory that Shiratorizawa had obtained. 

And that night my article was chosen to be featured in Sendai's Volleyball Magazine, which would later go on to star as the centerpiece for their 46th edition.