Karasuno's Mangers: Little Ukai and The Runaway

54: From Nutritionist to Assistant Coach

Kunimi was concerned by the erratic pulsing of his heart against his chest. He wondered if he should tell his Coach he was going to die. He considered calling the hospital for an ambulance. The rational voice in his head told him to take a deep breath and seek medical attention because there was no possible way that this feeling was normal.

The feeling of exhaustion, as though an unknown weight was crushing his soul.

He was irritated and annoyed but above all else, he was out of control and he wanted more.

He wanted to be left on read after a heated argument, forcing his fingers to double text and triple text and hell, spam fifty messages in a row if it meant her brows would furrow over her dark eyes.

He wanted to match her wit with verbal clash because he was certain that sarcasm was made only to be drawn from her pouting lips. Then when she bared her teeth and used words as a weapon he was electrified with a want for more.

More anger.

More ferocity.

More wit.

More passion.

More foolishness.

Emiko was leaning against the vending machine and holding a bag of chips. Her brows were pulled as dark eyes glanced over the ingredients list on the back. She must have sensed him walking towards her because she glanced up. Her lips pulled into a lopsided grin. 

"You losers are going to lose!" she stuck out her tongue.

Kunimi wanted her in his arms.

An attack like that would have her struggling to poke his eyes out and she'd no doubt kick at his shins. His eyes widened though because there was that possibility that she would freeze in his embrace like how she froze that night at the Seijoh Alumni Dance. 

Seconds would pass, her face would burn to the touch and she'd melt in his arms. She'd stutter incoherently and then once she had noticed his smirk, she'd no doubt narrow her eyes and go on the offensive.

Kunimi dug his hands into the pockets of his jacket and held her stare. "It's Seijoh versus Karasuno in the finals."

"Hell yeah it is! With Mad Dog on your team I knew you guys would make it. No offence but he's basically carrying your team dude."

His mouth was dry. His limbs were heavy. The rational voice in his head was urging him to turn around and walk away. He had a game to get to, he had a team no doubt searching for him.

He shook his head and took another step closer.

"I was going to wait until after the game to tell you this, but I remembered that we're both the prideful and immature type. Spite is a game we don't want to finish."

"Speak for yourself," she scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I am a good person."

"Whether we win or lose today, I won't change my mind. Whether your team wins or loses, I don't want you to change your answer either."

"Dude, are you okay?" she frowned, eyeing him up and down. "You're not sick, are you? It'd suck if Seijoh lost because you weren't playing at your best, even if Mad Dog is carrying your team."

"I'm fine," he frowned, "I think. I've spent this past month thinking and talking to people. I wanted to know what they think and what they would do. They mostly said I'm too young to be sure and that I should focus on other things. Heck, I even called Oikawa."

"Uh-huh." Emiko felt her phone buzz repeatedly against her pocket. She reached and discreetly checked her messages, half-listening to Kunimi's words. She nodded her head, flickering her gaze up and when she saw that he had his eyes closed, she looked back to her phone.