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Concerning the SuĆ-Arc in the manga (not a theory, just something I would enjoy reading): I can kind of imagine them getting to meet SuĆ rather quickly. SuĆ will be taken aback by them showing up, but he'll talk to them, and calm them down, explain himself until they are content to leave. I want Rakta or Bacchus to mention something about why he lied to them once Sakura & co. are gone and maybe SuĆ says something along the lines of not wanting to burden them with the truth.
And we as readers get left with the feeling that we lost SuĆ to a burden no 15year old should have to carry, but not even our protagonists know about that, because SuĆ lied to them, peppering in just enough truth for them to believe him.
But on their way out of the city / on the way home, they see something or realise something that makes them understand Bankoku-gai /SuĆ is in danger, maybe they puzzle it together with the story SuĆ told them, and they rush back to warn him.
SuĆ, Rakta and Bacchus probably are annoyed at first, that they're back, but quickly realise that the warning they bring came just in time, and our Furin students end up at the front line of whatever conflict's coming for SuĆ.
Pairing: SuĆ Hayato / Sun Fei x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used)
Era: SuĆâs Arc (manga Spoiler for up to ch. 222)
Genre: hurt/comfort, secret relationship
Word Count: 2 496
Warnings: no use of (y/n), sad Suo, spoiler up to ch. 222, mentions of the economic problems bankoku-gaiâs facing, mentions of the fight with Nirei, mentions of injury
Summary: After a fight with you and breaking all ties with Furin, Sun Fei returns to Bankogu-gai and faces the consequences
A/N: Wrote this a while ago, have to publish this before the arc progresses too muchâŠ
The sound of Sun Feiâs steps was so heavy and slow in the dark, wooden stairwell, that not even Ratka or Bacchus would have recognized them. It felt like a weight was pressing down on his shoulders, the room he had always looked forward to for a few precious hours of undisturbed rest now seeming like a curse that had been manufactured specifically for his suffering. Had been manufactured by himself. He was to blame for that fight. He was to blame for all the pain his friends were suffering now. Worse: he was to blame for the pain you had suffered, the pain that had driven you out of his room that last time you had spoken, the pain that would keep you away and his blankets cold tonight.
Sun Fei took the first, hesitant step, the weight of his leg pulling his foot down against the wooden floorboard without any of the light-footedness and elegance he usually possessed. How could he be elegant anymore? It had been two weeks since he had left Makochi for good, since he had abandoned Furin and broken off any connection, they could ever have wanted with him. That fight with Nirei could have been avoided, hadnât it been for you, and the words you had hurled at Sun Fei. He still remembered the tremor in your voice, telling him he didnât have to leave Furin, that he deserved to be with his friends.
âI donât want you to stretch yourself thin, I really donât, but you deserve to have friends, you deserve their love and their care and being at home with them. Please donât leave them!â
But all your pleading had only done one thing: make him suspicious. Why did you, the one person who always stood by his side, try to send him away? You were the one person no one else saw but him, the person who welcomed him home whenever he returned to his room, who kept his bed warm to the degree that it smelled more of you than of him, who wrapped him in your arms and peppered kisses over his face until he was a giggling mess with his fingers wrapped into your nightgown and his cheeks blazing with heat. You were the one who had learned all the names of his friends in Furin, who asked how they were doing as if they were your own friends, who got up at ungodly hours to sneak out of his room so nobody would learn of the place Sun Fei had carved out in his heart for you. Really, often it had felt like his heart was completely hollowed out and only filled with the love he held for you. You kept him safe. You kept him sane. And he had ruined it.
Sun Fei leant against the balustrade, staring up at the single remaining flight of stairs that lead straight to that cursed room of his. He remembered the night you had pleaded with him, your hands wrapped in the collar of his shirt, your wide eyes staring at him, begging him to understand. Two weeks later he knew that all you had wanted to do was to save him the pain of bidding goodbye to his friends in Furin, but at that moment, he hadnât understood anything at all.
Why wouldnât you want him to leave Furin?
You would get to sleep in more, curled into his side, he could train you personally, just the two of you, no more secret late-night training on your own while he was away from Bankoku-gai. Youâd get sleep, proper sleep, save in his arms, and most of all youâd get to spend more time with him, something you hadnât had since he had started middle-school.
Instead of being happy, you had tried convincing him to stay at Furin, to finish school, as if he cared about the life he could build with a high school diploma if he couldnât have you by his side every step of the way. And then he realized, or at least thought he did, what was going on. Of course, he thought, how stupid had he been! He had left you alone, often weeks at a time, fending for yourself while he made friends and when he came home, he told you magical stories of the world beyond the confines of this river island. When had your love turned into disdain? Had you even found someone else to love, someone who could be present for you, someone you might not dare to meet with Sun Fei around?
It had seemed like the answer was crystal clear, but the moment the accusation left his lips, your hands had fallen away from him, as if you had been burnt. The way you had glared at him had burnt itself into his memory, the disappointment and hurt, the rage.
âIf this is what you think, then I have no reason to stay,â you had whispered into the sudden silence before you had turned and left.
That night you hadnât shared his bed, hadnât slept by his side with your fingers twisted into his nightshirt, and the next morning you hadnât waited by the door to bid him goodbye. Sun Fei had meant to leave early, as always, but he had instead spent half the day trying to find you in the mazes of the city, had checked your room, the dojo, the kitchens, and every single one of your favorite spots â multiple times â but you had hidden from him and that meant not even he, a captain of the red chanpuru could find you now. When he had left for Makochi, it had been to tell Nirei to not continue looking for him, but instead that impossible, brave idiot had insisted on a fight and even gotten in a hit good enough to leave Sun Fei bruised for two weeks before he was able to return to Bankoku-gai. If he had turned up here with a black eye, there was no doubt heâd have caused a war that Furin had no way of winning. Therefore, he had stayed away, and since it wasnât unusual for him not to return for two or three weeks at a time, nobody had questioned it.
But what was it that he had returned to? People fighting in the streets, children going hungry or stealing food for their famished families- and the emptiness you had left behind. He had been back only for a few hours, but you were gone, nowhere to be found, not seen by anyone. He doubted you had left the city, but he also knew that you were able to avoid him perfectly even without leaving. You were skilled and clever enough, and Sun Fei often doubted he would be able to find you in these moments, even if his â or your â life depended on it.
He finally reached the final step, and not for the first time that night he wondered if he couldnât just sleep in another room. But how was he supposed to justify this? Nobody knew of your role in his life, the result of years of carefully sneaking around and weighing every word, every movement, every glance and breath. He couldnât just go to Rakta or Bacchus and ask to sleep in their room because the lack of your presence in his own was suffocating.
It took him a whole minute standing in front of his door, before he finally slipped in. It was dark, not the kind of darkness that settled shortly after nightfall, but the kind way past midnight that swallowed sounds and reached out its cold hands to suck all the happiness right out of you and installed fear and doubt. At the one end of his room stood a shelf, filled with books and documents that spread also to the antique desk in front of the window. Its lacquered red wood with the silver-colored inlays gleamed in the dark and provided a constant reminder of his position. Lastly, pushed into a corner as if to avoid being seen, stood his bed. The shadows were quiet and cold that night, the wood under his feet freezing his toes. Winter was beginning to creep in, and without you by his side, Sun Fei wondered how ever he was supposed to not freeze. His fingers and toes already felt numb in the dark.
He had made it almost all the way to his bed, when suddenly, he froze. It was the kind of sensation where you canât place what triggered it, just your subconscious picking up a noise or a flinch or⊠a smell. There was a smell hanging in the air, one he hadnât expected to ever smell again, but one that had brought him comfort so, so many nights. Blind in the darkness, Sun Fei stepped closer to the bed and carefully patted along the mattress until his hand hit the blanket and underneath, undoubtedly, a warm body curled in to protect itself against the chill of the autumn night.
The hope he had denied himself a moment ago came crashing over him with the force of a tsunami wave. His breath came uneven as his hands hastily tried finding the edge of the blanket, shaking like leaves in a storm.
âYouâre back?â
Your voice made Sun Fei freeze for a moment, and all he wanted to do was throw himself on top of you, wrap you in his arms and never let you go. But he couldnât, mostly because he was scared, heâd hurt you, so he just nodded in the dark.
âIâm back,â he confirmed, voice as shaky as his hands and wet with tears that were yet to fall.
âYou took your time.â There was no reproach in your sleepy voice, only amusement as you lifted the blanket to make space for him.
Sun Fei didnât hesitate for a second and quickly crawled in next to you, wrapping himself around you. The sleepy warmth of your familiar body bled into him like warm honey and desperately he clung to you, pulled your body closer against him and nuzzled his face into the soft fabric of your pajamas. All thoughts had been replaced by the realization that he hadnât lost you. You had returned to him, even after he had insulted your loyalty and love. You had returned and now you held him, a soft chuckle on your lips at the way he was nuzzling into your shoulder.
âSomeoneâs needy,â you mused, and ran a hand through his soft hair, twirling the strands around your finger and letting them unwrap. âHow was Makochi?â
At that, Sun Fei froze. Had you assumed he had really abandoned his duty in Bankoku-gai, just to be with his friends? It was what you had wanted him to do, but in the end, he still was an officer, and with station came duties, as little as he might enjoy them.
âI left,â he admitted, no matter how worried he was about your reaction. But he couldnât lie to you, never had been able. With everyone else he was able to lie, to omit enough of the truth, to fabricate a version of reality that appealed to them or at least kept hidden what Suo wanted to keep hidden. But you stripped him bare. One glance, one touch, and the truth, no matter how painful or embarrassing it was, came breaking free in waves that threatened to pull him under hadnât it always been for you offering him your hand to pull him up. At what point would you refuse your understanding and let him drown?
You just hummed at Sun Feiâs confession and pulled away enough to look at his face.
âThought so,â you mumbled, but the light that always gleamed in your eyes was gone. âThey didnât let you go without a fight, hm? Sakura?â
Your thumb ghosted over his cheek, right where the bruise had bloomed not too long ago. Sun Fei had assumed it had been long enough for nobody to notice, but he should have known you would see it immediately. You knew him better than anyone else.
âNirei,â he admitted to your question, and suddenly the light was back in your eyes, a small chuckle falling of your lips. The sound felt like water wetting the lips of someone dying of thirst. It bled into Sun Feiâs ears and straight into his heart, finally warming him up a little from the inside so he didnât feel quite as empty anymore.
âNirei, hm? Seems you taught him well!â
Sun Fei groaned and buried his face back against your shoulder. âA little too well.â
You just chuckled at that again and raked your fingernails over his skull.
âIf it had been up to me, I wouldnât have minded if he had landed a blow for me as well. You deserve it,â you whispered sweetly, as if you werenât telling your lover he deserved having gotten punched for being a bloody idiot.
Sun Fei just nodded, and then, without any permission of his brain, he confessed: âI miss them. I miss them so much.â
You were the last person he should say this to, after all, you had told him from the beginning on, not to leave Furin. But instead of saying âtold you soâ or âthen you should have stayedâ, you just tightened your hold on him.
âI know,â you whispered, pressing your nose into his hair and placing a soft kiss against the shell of his ear. âYou did what you thought was right.â
Warm tears began soaking the fabric of your clothes, as Sun Fei shook with choked sobs. You had tried to save him from this pain, but there were some things that were simply outside of your control. And his. He had done what he thought was right, and you respected that. Berating him for his choice would help with nothing. All you could do was to continue to support the boy you loved.
âIâm sure they miss you, too,â you whispered, and kissed his hair again.
âThey donât,â Suo hickuped, âI made sure of that.â
His hopeless words threatened to break your heart, but you refused to let him look down upon himself in this manner.
âDonât underestimate them, theyâre stubborn. And they love you,â you assured him.
âNot anymore.â
You didnât answer to that, didnât know what to say. But you were certain he was wrong. So, you didnât say anything else, just held him until he had calmed down, until his fingers that had twisted into your shirt had lost their strength, until his body had relaxed and his ever-present composure had given way to desperately needed sleep.
Through the window, the moon illuminated the room, and you were certain that two hours away in Makochi, Sakura, Nirei and all of Furin were far from giving up on the composed and teasingly affectionate boy they knew as SuĆ Hayato.
I think these dudes' optimism is so cute. Like, okay Background Characters #1-6, I'm sure you're all gonna get a hit in on Suo and make an impact on his life â€
I understand where OP's sentiment is coming from, but if I'm being honest, it seems like an awfully western perspective. I can only speak from personal experience, but at my Japanese dance club, we were 120 people. Of course our captain and vice-captains weren't friends with everyone. But each one of us would have stood up for them anyway, would have followed them. If we had been told one of them had pulled the things SuĆ did, all 119 of us that were left, would have grabbed our stuff and headed out to get our vice-captain to explain. Because that's our vice-captain.
It's a whole different understanding of unity than in the West, and that's exactly what makes these stories so powerful
honestly if suo does come back to furin his actions beforehand have cost him a lot of trust from bofurin in general.
not in a "you betrayed us and hurt one of our members" kinda way, but in a "we literally cannot trust you to take care of yourself" and either way suo will hate it but it's a natural consequence of his sacrificial lamb plan.
People will hand him sweet bean buns, tayaki, donuts or some fried chicken - not just in class, but also random students in the hallway he never talked to before - and wait until he has taken at least one bite. His attempt at a comforting smile only earns him calculating glances. Umemiya has to make an announcement for people to calm down with their attempts at feeding SuĆ after he came to class one morning already carrying an arm full of snacks. Bofurin doesn't give up easily. They make a schedule who gets to feed SuĆ when.
At the tiniest hint of being sick, a sneeze, blood shot eyes, dark circles under his eyes, dry lips, he suddenly ends up with a bag full of meds and healthy snacks and vitamins and is being escorted home by three classmates who make sure he gets home safe, drinks some water and gets tucked into bed. As he's laying on his back, staring up at the ceiling, the door falling shut behind the last person, he's wondering how he even got here. He isn't sick! He just sneezed!
If he ever seems tired, or zoned out, you can bet there is a jacket bunched up on his table as a pillow and another thrown over his shoulders as a blanket faster than he can say "Furin". Suddenly the whole class is only talking in whispers, going as far as trying to cover the noise of the bell from the speakers so he can nap. If he seems to need more than a nap on his desk, a bunch of people will bring him to the school nurse and ask if he can sleep there. He never gets told no. Over time he has gotten very good at hiding yawns and even better at not spacing out. Unfortunately Sakura has gotten scarily good at reading him, so he ends up for an additional nap in the nurse's office at least once a month.
Over time, news spread abou the weight he had carried for so long. And as seriously as Bofurin takes protecting the town, the town takes protecting Bofurin. He gets offered free food every few meters and never makes it home with less food than he left the house with. Sometimes he comes home and a little thing he had kept putting off repairing is fixed. At first just things outside. The cracked paint on the door, the leaky air con unit. But then also things indoors. The dripping faucet, the rattling airvent in the bathroom. He suspects his friends ranted to the townspeople, who took matters into their own hands.
Every once in a while people offer him hugs. Out of nowhere. With Tsubakino he should have seen the offer coming really. With Nirei too. After all that Momijikawa had done for Sakura, he suspects he could have anticipated that one better. When Sakura asks him if he needs a hug, SuĆ seriously starts wondering if he actually looks that awful (he doesn't. People just care for him, and make 110% sure he knows)
Working on two video-assignments for university at once (I'm not even in film school or anything) sucks, because it doesn't leave time to write a birthday drabble for my husband Sugawara
(or the Suo one I've been putting of for a week)
BUT! If the cool video project works out, I'll post here about it bc it has the potential to be so fucking cool, as long as i don't fuck it up
Pairing: Sugawara KĆshi x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used)
Era: post!timeskip
Genre: Fluff / hurt-comfort
Word Count: 7 021
Warnings: no use of (y/n), mentions of food, mentions of sex (nothing explicit)
Summary: After a week of avoiding you, Suga bumps into you at the townâs festival
Haiykuu!! Masterlist | Blog Masterlist
Part One
You donât talk to Sugawara on Monday. You also donât talk to him on Tuesday. Not, because you are avoiding him, no. As a matter of fact, youâre trying everything you can to âaccidentallyâ bump into him. But he isnât in the teacher lounge during his typical hours, and he isnât even staying late in his classroom, where you were used to seeing him whenever you passed by his room to fetch another cup of hot tea before returning to your desk and work on more material for the upcomming classes.
On Wednesday during lunch break, you place the borrowed clothes on the desk in his classroom, attaching a small note, again thanking him for his help and wishing him good luck with the training match his student team is playing that afternoon. On Thursday, you have playground watch together, but instead of waltzing up to you, as he usually does, to ask about how youâve been and what youâve been up to, he seems busy explaining something to a few third graders. It looks like theyâre members of the volleyball team, and heâs trying to show them some technique. It would be cute if he wouldnât use it as an excuse to avoid you, you think.
On Friday, you wake up with a hole in your stomach that is bigger and deeper and more dangerous than it was over the past days. As you roll to your side to turn off the alarm clock, you canât help but think that itâs been a whole week, since the incident where Sugawara had invited you for dinner at his place, and you cannot stop thinking about how different your life might already be, if for just once in your life, you hadnât tried being considerate of someone else, if you had just allowed yourself to give into the temptation and accept Sugawaraâs offer to sleep over. And itâs not like heâs the only thing on your mind, that makes the morning, the whole day really, but especially the morning, unbearably heavy. There is still the review of your teaching demonstration, and you were told youâd receive it today.
The thought alone makes you so sick, that you can barely stomach any breakfast, so you roll the left-over rice into an onigiri and wrap a sheet of nori seaweed around it before packing it into a bento box and into your bag as lunch. The only thing making the morning a little better is the good weather. After the rain of the last week, the sun had finally decided to break free from behind heavy clouds, and you decide on taking the bike instead of the car. A voice, deep down in your head, asks if you might not want to take the car, in case last weekâs events repeat themselves, but you doubt Sugawara would get into your car this week, even if you were to find him walking home again.
As soon as you arrive on the school grounds, you get told to come to the directorâs office during first break, which definitely doesnât help your nerves at all. Your hands are shaking throughout the whole first period, your breathing shallow your feet quite literally cold. The children, fortunately enough, donât seem to pick up on your nerves, and only do a good job at distracting you, by asking about the river festival that would take place tomorrow afternoon. The river festival was something you had been looking forward to for ages, not only because it was the first performance with your Yosakoi dance team after a long time of having been too busy to train properly. Not the school dance team, but a team of adults, who all came together several times a week to practice Yosakoi and perform it at events like the river festival. Of course, dancing this specific dance in your spare time was a great basis of also helping out at the school club, and many parents of children you were teaching had promised you, they would come to see you dance tomorrow. It felt good to have that sense of community through a hobby you shared with so many different people, but you couldnât help the disappointment that already settled in your stomach when you thought about tomorrow. You had wanted to finally be brave, to finally talk to Sugawara a little bit more, so you had decided weeks ago, that you would invite him to come see you dance at the festival; after you could go look at the stand and eat something and watch the fireworks. But it had never come to that, and even though you had his contact saved in your phone, you had never texted him before. Considering his behaviour over the past days, you doubted it was appropriate to text him now.
First period came and went faster than you could comprehend, and by the time the first break ended, the smile on your face was hard to miss. The directorâs words still echoed in your head as he read out the review from last weekâs teaching demonstration. You had apparently proven cool headed even in overstimulating and challenging situations and were not deterred by unforeseen events. According to the review, you had handled the unfortunate incident of a sick kid throwing up in class better than most well-experienced teachers would.
It was high praise that was bestowed upon you with that review, and it made you feel all the sillier for your breakdown last week, the one Sugawara had so caringly accompanied you through. All the more it stung that he immediately made a beeline when he saw you trying to walk over to him during second break. And finally, you got angry. You had tried to thank him, to apologize for losing your head last week and wanted to share good news with him, but all he did was run away like a timid 12-year-old. Meanwhile, you had received excellent feedback and were looking forward to the festival tomorrow. If he didnât want to know about these things, then he wouldnât get to ruin your joy either.
That decision led you to enjoying the rest of the day even more, out of pure spite. You played ball games with your class during recess, taught the children in the Yosakoi club the next part of the dance they were practicing and convinced them, they could already dance most of it completely on their own, without having to copy off of you. And after you had sent the children home, you went to your own dance practice, laughed with your friends, made plans on which make-up to wear tomorrow and which hair accessories, and finally biked home in the pitch dark of the Miyagi night, picking up a tray of the new chicken dish you had meant to try out on your way past a convenience store.
Saturday morning was a lot better than the previous one. You had allowed yourself to sleep in and prepare an extensive breakfast before showering and packing your bag with the dance costume and all the things you needed for the day. Around noon a group of people from your dance team came to pick you up, all of them already excitedly chattering about the festival and the performance that was due.
What followed the arrival at the community centre was a haze of colours as everyone dressed in their costumes and helped each other apply the makeup. Unlike other teams, there was no colour scheme you stuck to, so while you went with your usual, well tested and proofed combination of colours, others experimented more with glitter and painting flowers, stars and other shapes onto their skin. While a ruckus broke out, when some of the male university students, who were members of your team, also decided they absolutely needed some sparkly hair accessories and heart shaped glitter stones stuck to their cheeks, two of your peers had managed to wrangle you into a chair so they could draw flowers on your cheeks, too. You pretended to protest, but you knew their insistence was a gesture of caring for you, and when they were done, you had to admit they had done a very nice job with the countless little flowers that speckled your cheeks and nose, although you wondered if they might have gone a little over board with the glitter stones they had added underneath your eyes.
The room that had been assigned to your team was pure chaos for almost one and a half hours, people climbing over bags, searching combs or hair needles, a piece of their costume or their wooden clappers for the dance. Someone was playing traditional Japanese music from a speaker, which only added to the noise and excitement that soon seemed to reach critical levels, so it wasnât an overstatement to claim you were relieved when the team captain announced it was time to line up and get ready for the performance.
Like always before a show, your heart was beating in your throat, but the smile that was consistently held in place on your face was genuine. Standing in rows of two, Haruna, the friend at your side, kept happily blabbing about how much she had been looking forward to today. Sure, it was by far not the biggest festival you ever danced on. In fact, it was tiny, just a few hundred people coming from the surrounding villages, mostly to check out food stands and see the fireworks. Nonetheless, it was made special because this was the place where most people knew your faces. These people out there watching knew you, and they cheered along to the music, encouraged you, even when the hot early-summer sun drove beads of sweat onto your forehead.
You were just in the process of thinking that today was the perfect day for that festival, and that it had been a long time since you had actually really looked forward to dancing for an audience, when suddenly Haruna beside you started talking about her boyfriend. Immediately your vision lost its vibrant colours and instead you were reminded of a certain someone with silver hair and deep, brown, soulful eyes. You had wanted Sugawara to be here so badly, had wanted him to see you dance with your team, had wanted him to admire the effort it had taken to get this performance down to this degree of complexity, had wanted him to afterwards hand you a bottle of water, or sports drink, and smile at you and tell you âwell doneâ-
Your spiralling thoughts were interrupted by the command to pile out of the room and in orderly rows you stepped out of the community centre and into the blinding light of the afternoon sun. The act before you â a taiko drum group, was still performing, so your group quietly piled behind the stage and listened. Those who stood in the right angle, stretched their heads to catch a glimpse of the drummers, some of the girls on the team giggling at the shirtless men, and immediately earning a shushed warning from the vice-captain. You also listened, as was the respectful thing to do, but your mind was otherwise occupied by forcing useless daydreams upon you. How would today have gone if you had accepted Sugawaraâs invitation to sleep over last week? If you hadnât been so worried about being a nuisance to him, maybe you could have talked more. Laughed, learnt about each other, and maybe that would have been enough to give you the courage to ask him out on a date. Properly. So, both of you knew and were certain about what was going on. Perhaps you would have gone on a date during the past week. You could have told him about the excellent results of the review. You could have invited him to come see you at the festival, could have asked him to pick you up with his car to drive you here, or offered to pick him upâŠ
The taiko performance ended with a bang and everyone started applauding. You joined the applause, still half-dazed from the thoughts of Sugawara that seemed to have clung themselves to you more than you wanted to allow them. Absentmindedly you felt for the wooden clappers â naruko â and the paper fan at your side.
Everything after was a blur. The motivational speech of your captain, which quickly got you back into the right mindset for the dance, the running on stage, finding your position in the formation, and only the tiny bit of intimidation of standing front row for the first time. The team was introduced by the speakers, who stood to the side, and would speak over the song to tell the story in words, which the performance told in movement. You bowed, cheered on your teammates and got into position, as you always did.
The first notes of the song made you forget all the troubles of the past days. It washed over you like a wave lapping at the beach and dragged you out into the ocean, into a storm of emotion that told the story of two estranged friends who had to find their way back to each other. The movements came naturally, quickly, fluently but powerful. The music filled your ears, your head, your heart and you lost yourself in the push and pull, in the rhythm of wooden clappers and shouts, and when the second part of the song rolled around, calm and almost hesitant in its blooming beauty, you felt like you had finally reached the feeling you had been chasing the whole time.
With the calmness in the middle of the song, you pulled out your paper fan, the clapping sound of its opening timed perfectly with the rest of the group. Where the first part had been dominated by anger and helpless rage, the second part was led by the elegant sadness that accompanied the realisation that a friendship was lost. Your body followed the performance like you had trained, keeping your eyes on the open fan as you raised it above your head. When you threw it shut, again in perfect timing with everyone else, eyes still fixed on it, you lowered the fan down to your chest, and then opened it once more, lifting your eyes finally up into the crowd.
Staring back at you, right past the emotions the dancing had drawn to your face, and straight into your heart, were the familiar eyes of Sugawara. He stood pretty much in the middle of the crowd, people of all ages having come together to watch the dance, some of your students having pressed themselves to sit in front of the first row on the stone tiles that made up the square in front of the community centre.
It wasnât so much Sugawaraâs presence that shocked you, as the lack of a reaction you had to it. You kept your eyes forward, as the choreography demanded, your gaze never leaving his face. Usually his reaction might have made your cheeks heat up and your heart thrum wildly, but you were already sweating from the sun beating down on you and your heart was hammering from the demanding first part of the performance, so even if the way Sugawara was watching you now had any impact on you, you wouldnât have been able to tell.
Instead, you memorised the way his mouth stood slightly open, and his eyes followed you as you lowered yourself to one knee. If you hadnât known better, you would have guessed the expression in his eyes was one of longing. You turned, your back now to the audience, and at your side you could feel your teammates breathing heavily, as all of you were fumbling around with your costumes. But the music went on, and so did the performance, and when you turned back to the audience, the upper layer of your costume falling away to reveal a differently coloured second layer, a bright smile on all of your faces, you didnât have the time to search for Sugawaraâs face again in the crowd.
The last part of the song was the most emotional, fast paced and passionate, the hopeful fluttering in your chest when you realised that some people were meant to stay in your life, no matter the hardships that had once seperated you. Everything came together in this last uproar â the music swelled, the choreography had kept its most impressive techniques for last, the colours of the costumes shone brighter than they had before, the voices of the narrators rose about the noise of the clappers supporting the rhythm, and between all of that you caught Sugawaraâs eyes again. Never as long as before, not in a matter that would have necessarily let him know you had seen him watch you, but enough to assure you that he was not taking his eyes off of you. Not when sweat started running into your eyes, or one of your clappers slipped out of your hands and joined the others that had slowly but surely accumulated on the floor. He didnât take his eyes off of you, not when the music ended, not when everyone bowed to the audience, and not when you hurried off the stage and got lead to a table where volunteers had prepared cups of water and cold tea for the performers.
Almost you expected him to come over, as many friends and family members did after the performance. But instead, he vanished from your sight again, and a moment later a small child hugged you around your middle â one of your students as you quickly realised â and told you how much fun it had been to watch the dance. More children and parents began crowding around, making you step to the side, so your teammates had better access to the much needed hydration, and before you knew it, you were being bombarded with questions from the children. How long had you trained for that performance? Why didnât the school club get to use paper fans? Why were you so sweaty? Did you draw the flowers on your cheeks all by yourself?
It took you almost half an hour, until you had talked to every child to their satisfaction, and the parents that were with them apologised for keeping you so long. You laughed it off and truthfully told them you enjoyed being asked about the dancing, but once things quieted down around you, loneliness began settling in, faster and harder than you had expected. The rest of your team members had already gone back into the community centre, probably even changed and cleaned up a little, the children were back to watching another performance or begging their parents for some food, and Sugawara was nowhere to be seen either.
With a resigned sigh, you grabbed another cup of barley tea, emptied it in one go, and threw the empty cup into the provided trash can before heading towards the building. Like you had predicted, most of your teammates were gone already. Some younger men were huddled in a corner over a mobile game, but they only acknowledged you with short nods before going back to their game.
You grabbed your bag with your regular clothes, gratefully noticing that someone had placed your wooden clapper on top of it, and headed to the bathrooms to change out of your costume. The fabric was lightweight, so most parts had already dried again, but still a shiver ran down your spine when you got exposed to the air. Quickly you wiped yourself down with some wet wipes and pulled on what you had brought as a change of clothes â a shirt with the logo of the dance club, and a wide pair of trousers for the warm evening.
Stepping out of the bathroom stall, you considered wiping of the make up too, but a glance into the mirror told you, it had kept up better than you had expected. Even though sweat had run down your face in streams earlier, there was hardly any smudging, and the colours were just as vibrant as before. You hadnât even lost any of the glitter stones. Smiling to yourself, you shouldered the bag, pulling out your phone to ask where the others were.
You had just stepped out of the bathroom, when you almost bumped into someone in the hallway. The impact was only narrowly avoided, but the other person still stumbled a little. Immediately apologizing, you looked up and found the person wasnât just a random stranger, but in fact the very person who had done their best to avoid you for the past week.
âSugawara-san,â you gasped quietly, quickly taking in his appearance.
He wore jeans, like always, and an oversized T-shirt. He was holding his hands out in front of him, water droplets still gleaming in the low light of the hallway; he seemed to be coming from the bathroom himself. His silver hair was slightly dishevelled, in an unfairly attractive way, and his eyes widened when he recognised you.
âOh, hey,â he stammered out. âNice- nice job on your performance earlier.â He awkwardly gestured over his shoulder.
âOh, uhm, thanks,â you replied and bowed quickly, the same kind of hasty bow you always performed when someone complimented your dancing. âIâm surprised you came to see us.â
As if a switch had been flipped, Sugawaraâs cheeks began glowing red.
âYes, of course, I- itâs the biggest festival we have here soâŠâ
âRight,â you nodded, internally slapping yourself. Of course he hadnât come to see you dance, he was here because it was a festival.
For a moment awkward silence overtook the otherwise empty hallway. It wasnât even late afternoon yet, but the shadows grew long, the twilight making a shiver run down your spine, although it was warm enough to already make sweat beads gather at your forehead again.
âIâm sorry for last week,â Sugawara suddenly blurted out, making your gaze snap back up to him in surprise. âI didnât mean to make you feel uncomfortable with that invitation-â
âYou didnât,â you quickly interrupted him, waving your hands in the air as if to shoosh away that preposterous idea. âYou didnât at all! I just- I left because I didnât want to be any more of a burden on you.â And because you hadnât trusted yourself to not do anything stupid or foolish, like ask him to kiss you when he bid you good night.
âYou- you arenât â were never â a burden,â Sugawara denied, a look of horror spreading over his face. âIt was important to me to be by your side, if you needed someone. And you would have been welcome to stay over, so you didnât have to be alone. I just realised too late it probably came across like I was asking you to have sex with me.â
âDid you?â Your heart skipped at beat at his words. Had you perhaps always had a chance with Sugawara?
âNo!â Or not. âI- I just wanted to help, and Iâm sorry it made things awkward.â
âAnd I didnât want to be a burden on you.â
Sugawara stared at you for a moment.
âSo- youâre not⊠mad at me, or anything?â The way his voice was so hopeful made you want to walk over to him and squish his cheeks between your hands, but you resisted the urge.
âNo, no of course not. I also didnât think youâd try to⊠try to exploit my vulnerability for sex.â Although you werenât sure if it had come to that, who would have felt like they exploited whom.
âThatâs a relief,â Sugawara sighed, a small smile finally spreading across his face.
âOh, there you are!â The moment got interrupted as Haruna, your teammate, pushed open the door to the corridor and stuck her head in. âWeâre about to drive back. You coming?â
Right. You were supposed to drive back with your teammates. You should have known they wouldnât bother to stick around for much longer than grabbing a bite to eat after the performance was done. And they hadnât been held up by a bunch of elementary school students to do so. You cursed Harunaâs timing because she had walked in just as things seemed to clear up with Sugawara finally, but you had to accept your fate.
âIâll be right out,â you told her, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder.
âI can drive you. If you want.â Sugawaraâs voice interrupted your set decision. âI wanted to stay to see the fireworks, if thatâs not too late for youâŠâ He looked between you and Haruna expectantly, who shrugged and gestured to you.
The old worry came to mind. If Sugawara drove you, heâd be forced to make a detour, and that surely would be bothersome to him. Except he had just told you a few minutes ago that you were never a burden on him, and he had offered. So why shouldnât you be allowed to choose what you wanted, not what you thought other people wanted?
âThat would be great, Sugawara-san,â you smiled at him, and he hummed relieved.
âCool, have fun,â Haruna said, and before you could bid her goodbye, she had already disappeared again.
âThank you,â you mumbled, earning a bright smile from him in return.
âSure, youâre welcome. Except-â
Nervously you looked up at him, noticing the serious expression he suddenly wore.
âI think itâs time you started calling me Suga, you know, like everyone else⊠Or KĆshi.â
You couldnât pretend to hide your shock at his words. Of course, you knew everyone called him Suga, other than his students, you knew nobody who actually called him Sugawara-san as you did. And he had offered you to call him Suga many times before. But KĆshi? His given name was intimate, something only people really close to him would call him. So, to offer you thatâŠ
âOkay,â you nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing now. âI think, I can do that, KĆshi.â
His name tasted sweet on your tongue, and his serious expression was immediately replaced by a timid smile and a soft blush over his cheeks. He looked startled, as if he hadnât actually expected you to use his given name.
âPerfect,â he clapped his hands, âthen we got that out of the way.â
You laughed at his antics and shook your head.
âIf I had known it means that much to you, Iâd have started calling you Suga way earlier.â
âNu-uh, no,â Suga waved a scolding finger in the air. âYouâve graduated to given-name-basis, no going back to my family name.â
Laughing, you shook your head again. âAlright, alright, got it,â you grinned, and finally moved away from the spot to which you had been rooted since you had almost stumbled into him.
âGood.â Suga looked satisfied and walked over the remaining distance to the door that had shielded you from the brighter world beyond the corridor. âLetâs get your bag into the car and find something to eat, hm?â
You nodded in approval and aimed to walk past him, but as you did, his hand came to rest on the strap of your bag.
âGive me that,â he demanded, but you hesitated. He had already offered to drive you home, how much more did he want to do for you? Apparently, he hadnât decided how much more, because he gently tucked at the strap. âCome on. Please?â
You finally allowed him to pull the bag off your shoulder and throw it over his own, and Suga looked like you had just given him a special present. Together you walked through the entrance hall of the community centre, the open main doors allowing hot air to stream into the building. Once outside Suga turned not right, towards the plaza where the stage and the food stands were but instead left towards the parking lot.
You followed him, quietly watching him walking next to you as if it were the most normal thing in the world to him. Maybe he didnât feel as nervous in your presence as you felt in his, maybe this wasnât nerve-wrecking for him at all. But you had a feeling he was good at pretending to have the upper hand, which was why he had avoided you during the past days when he wasnât sure where he stood with you. But if there was a chance, he felt just as nervous about you as you did about him- and he had offered to drive you home after watching the fire works together. And he had offered you to call him by his given name. SoâŠ
âNe, KĆshi,â you asked while the two of you strolled over the parking lot.
The air had heated up a lot over the asphalt, and it felt like you had stepped into an oversized air fryer, but the sun began sinking behind the mountains, the shadow already covering a good portion of the town.
Suga hummed in response and glimpsed at you from the corner of his eyes.
âI was really glad to see you at the performance today,â you admitted. That hadnât been what you had wanted to say, but it was the next best thing.
âI was really glad to see you dance again,â he replied. Of course, right, he had seen you dance during other festivals, too. âAnd front row this time. You were fantastic! All bam and swoosh and uhi!â
He tried imitating some of the movements he had observed, your heavy bag flinging around him and his adorable attempts at onomatopoeia making you raise your eyebrows in amusement.
âIf you liked our bam and swoosh and uhi so much, youâre always welcome to join,â you teased, making Suga bark out a laugh.
âIâm afraid I have two left feet when it comes to dancing. Iâm more the volleyball-kind of bam and swoosh and uhi type of guy,â embarrassed he rubbed his neck. âBut Iâll come and see your next performance too, if you like. I donât think Iâll ever get tired of watching you dance.â
His words were supported by a gentle shove, his arm bumping against yours for a moment, his bare skin leaving a burning trace against yours, while your breath hitched from his words.
âIâll count on it,â you chuckled, your eyes flickering down to his hand that was casually swinging between the two of you. Where did that temptation come from to just take it, wrap your fingers around his? You could almost feel how warm his palm would be against yours, dry, and a little rough from always cleaning the blackboard with chalky water, but gentle and careful.
âHey, I was thinking-â you continued before the saner part of your brain could stop you. âWould you like to go out some time? I mean, properly. For dinner maybe.â
Suga stopped in his steps, and for a moment you thought you had ruined everything, that he would tell you he could drive you home but that was it, that you had completely misread the whole thing and were an idiot to believe someone like him could ever be interested in you.
Then you realised you were standing in front of his car.
Suga pulled out his car keys and unlocked the door, before he turned to look at you, his expression completely neutral.
âHow do you mean,â he asked in a voice that was entirely too calm for your liking. If he had any interest in you, heâd be excited, wouldnât be? Instead, he opened the car trunk, not taking his eyes off you. âLike a date?â
Nope, this was too much. You felt dizzy, which was idiotic, since the actual rejection was still outstanding. In an attempt to make the world stop spinning quite as quickly, you leant against his car, crossing your arms over your chest protectively, while Suga carefully placed your bag into the car.
âYeah, why not? I mean-â
His eyes widened slightly, and his neutral expression melted into nothingness as a relieved smile overtook his features.
âOh, thank god,â he sighed, leaning his head back and taking a deep breath, before propping himself up against the side of the car with one hand. âI thought we were setting ourselves up for another misunderstanding.â
He laughed lightly, shaking his head, and you couldnât help but admire the way his silver strands danced in the sun. He was close enough for you to see the skin around his eyes crinkle, the little mole under his left eye and the freckles that spread over the back of his nose. It took you a moment to realise just how close he suddenly was, but in all honesty, it was impossible to tell which one of you had lent in first, him or you. Maybe you had just moved simultaneously.
It seemed like Suga noticed the lack of distance between your faces at the same moment, because his eyes widened a fraction, but his easy smile never faltered as he let his gaze skip to your lips and back.
âIt itâs a date youâre talking about, then Iâm all for it,â he whispered into the narrow space between you, his breath hotly fanning over your skin.
You just stared at him, unable to answer. Something about the way he suddenly seemed so confident had completely fried any reply you might have mustered, and all you could think about was how he was close enough for you to pick up on the scent of his shower gel, one you recognised after having used it yourself last week.
It was impossible to tell for how long Suga and you stood next to his car, both of you leaning against it, with less than an inch separating you in the scorching heat of the summer evening. It might have been seconds or hours, you werenât sure, not when your whole field of vision was taken up by the beautiful man in front of you, who looked at you as if he had just found the most precious treasure.
In the end it was Suga who caved first, exhaling a shaky breath before closing the miniscule distance between you and locking his lips against yours. He was warm, warmer than the air around you, his hand big and steady as he placed it against your waist and guided you to lean your back against his car. You followed his lead, senses overwhelmed by him, the scent of his shampoo, the taste of bottled green tea from his lips that so softly moved against yours, as if you were too delicate to even touch properly. The way he held you now left no thought in your brain, only comfortable static that hummed appreciatively at the way Suga leant his weight more against you, unbearably warm but oh so comfortingly present. Your arm snuck around his waist, carefully running up his back, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt ripple underneath your fingertips, and like a reflex he arched his back closer to you, deepening the kiss beyond the tame locking of lips he had restrained himself to before. The way he moved now, gentle lips demanding more from you, was but a glimpse of the desire that slumbered beneath a façade of control, you realised, as he brought his other hand up to the side of your face, using it to tilt your head in a manner that would allow him better access to your lips.
Just as you meant to wrap your arm around his neck, in a meagre attempt to hide the lack of strength in your legs, Suga suddenly pulled away. Not far, just far enough to separate his lips from yours. Gasping, you tried chasing after him, but with his hand still at the side of your face, he held you in place. His eyes skipped to your cheeks; his breath came in fast pants that could not be explained by the heat alone. You were definitely not the only one out of their depth. Or at least so you thought.
âNo,â he breathed out, making you freeze. âThis isnât right.â
The world stopped. Hadnât he just been the one pulling you closer, kissing you harder? He ran his thumb along the side of your face, his eyes following the motion.
âIâm gonna smear your flower make-up.â
You blinked.
âReally,â you asked incredulously. âThatâs what youâre worried about now?â
Suga giggled gleefully as you relaxed into his hold and brushed his nose against your hair.
âYou look cute with that make-up,â he whispered against your ear, driving more heat into your cheeks than before as the words so effortlessly rolled off his tongue. âBesides, let me take you out properly first, hm?â
âSugawara KĆshi!â You pulled away far enough to be able to look at his blushed face. âAre you being a tease?â
âYou had to learn about it earlier or later,â he chuckled, carefully letting go of you and taking a step back. âIâll make it up to you.â
You felt the air rush back to where he had held you before, leaving you with a shiver in the hot summer evening. The shadows of the mountains had crept far enough across the parking lot to block out the sun already, but the air was still warm and humid.
You watched as Suga bounded on his heels once, twice, and bit his lower lip while looking you over before he finally spoke up again.
âHow about, for our first date, we go back to the festival,â Suga suggested, standing a little straighter, as if posture alone could get his still erratically beating heart under control. âAnd weâll share some fried noodles, and shaved ice, and some taiyaki before we search a good spot to watch the fireworks from. Foodâs on me, obviously.â
For a moment there was nothing you could do but stare at KĆshi. The way the wind tucked at his silver hair, his brown eyes glimmered hopefully, his otherwise pristine white shirt a little crumpled where he had used his body to keep you pressed against his car to kiss you. Rolling your eyes at him playfully, you pushed away from the car.
âWhat if I also want Takoyaki,â you asked teasingly, making KĆshi sigh in mock-surrender.
âThen Iâll be broke by the end of the night, but at least youâll be happy,â he joked and joined you as you stepped around the car. He slammed the trunk shut and locked the car before turning to you.
âBasically, what I mean is: itâs up to you. I think, festivals are perfect for dates, and even if you donât want this to be an official date yet, Iâd love to treat you. Youâve had an exhausting day.â
KĆshi smiled at you softly, and you hesitantly nibbled at your lower lip, which didnât really help get a clear head because you could swear you could still taste his kiss.
âDoesnât it at all bother you, that Iâm not wearing anything nice,â you asked, helplessly tucking at the oversized team shirt you had slipped on. âI havenât even showered after our performanceâŠâ
KĆshiâs eyes wandered down from your shoulders, taking in the way the fabric blew around your hips in the evening breeze, the way your trousers fell in soft folds down to your ankles, the shoes you had slipped on in the expectation to be wearing them not much longer than it took you to walk to the parking lot and get driven home.
âYou look perfect,â he replied, his voice leaving no room for your insecurity, admiration laced deeply into his tone. âIâd rather have you look authentically yourself than whatever polished version you would present the world if you tried to convince me that youâre cute. Because I already know that. To me youâre the most perfect, when your passions are worn on your sleeve.â
You wanted to tease him for the cheesy comment he had delivered, but the honesty in his voice made the words stuck in your throat. You thought back to all the times he had caught you in the wrong moment, when your hands were still dripping with chalky water from cleaning the blackboard, when your hair was dishevelled after you had played catch with the children during break, when at the end of the day your blouse was crumpled and your cardigan askew, or early in the morning, where the hot cup of tea you had wrapped your hands around was the only thing that seemed to keep you tethered in the world of the waking.
âWell,â you swallowed thickly, not sure what else to do with the words KĆshi had just offered you. âIf thatâs the case, letâs go on that date!â
KĆshi nodded and held his hand out for you to take. Wide eyed you looked between him and his stretched-out hand. It wasnât unusual anymore for couples to hold hands in the street, but it was still very much understood as a declaration of belonging with each other. He might as well have gotten on the roof of the community centre and shouted for everyone to hear, that you were going out now. It also showed that he was serious about you, that it wasnât just something he wanted to try out and would drop as soon as it stopped being new and exciting.
So, after a momentâs hesitation, you quickly placed your hand in his. Immediately his warm fingers closed around yours, his hand bigger and rougher, but gentle, even gentler than you had imagined him to be. Beaming down on you with a bright smile that you could have sworn had the power to put the sun to shame, he started walking side by side with you back to the festival, and if anyone would have asked him, he confidently would have told them that this was already the best festival and the best first date (hopefully also the last first date) he had ever been on.
Pairing: Sugawara KĆshi x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used)
Era: post!timeskip
Genre: Fluff / hurt-comfort
Word Count: 7 021
Warnings: no use of (y/n), mentions of food, mentions of sex (nothing explicit)
Summary: After a week of avoiding you, Suga bumps into you at the townâs festival
Haiykuu!! Masterlist | Blog Masterlist
Part One
You donât talk to Sugawara on Monday. You also donât talk to him on Tuesday. Not, because you are avoiding him, no. As a matter of fact, youâre trying everything you can to âaccidentallyâ bump into him. But he isnât in the teacher lounge during his typical hours, and he isnât even staying late in his classroom, where you were used to seeing him whenever you passed by his room to fetch another cup of hot tea before returning to your desk and work on more material for the upcomming classes.
On Wednesday during lunch break, you place the borrowed clothes on the desk in his classroom, attaching a small note, again thanking him for his help and wishing him good luck with the training match his student team is playing that afternoon. On Thursday, you have playground watch together, but instead of waltzing up to you, as he usually does, to ask about how youâve been and what youâve been up to, he seems busy explaining something to a few third graders. It looks like theyâre members of the volleyball team, and heâs trying to show them some technique. It would be cute if he wouldnât use it as an excuse to avoid you, you think.
On Friday, you wake up with a hole in your stomach that is bigger and deeper and more dangerous than it was over the past days. As you roll to your side to turn off the alarm clock, you canât help but think that itâs been a whole week, since the incident where Sugawara had invited you for dinner at his place, and you cannot stop thinking about how different your life might already be, if for just once in your life, you hadnât tried being considerate of someone else, if you had just allowed yourself to give into the temptation and accept Sugawaraâs offer to sleep over. And itâs not like heâs the only thing on your mind, that makes the morning, the whole day really, but especially the morning, unbearably heavy. There is still the review of your teaching demonstration, and you were told youâd receive it today.
The thought alone makes you so sick, that you can barely stomach any breakfast, so you roll the left-over rice into an onigiri and wrap a sheet of nori seaweed around it before packing it into a bento box and into your bag as lunch. The only thing making the morning a little better is the good weather. After the rain of the last week, the sun had finally decided to break free from behind heavy clouds, and you decide on taking the bike instead of the car. A voice, deep down in your head, asks if you might not want to take the car, in case last weekâs events repeat themselves, but you doubt Sugawara would get into your car this week, even if you were to find him walking home again.
As soon as you arrive on the school grounds, you get told to come to the directorâs office during first break, which definitely doesnât help your nerves at all. Your hands are shaking throughout the whole first period, your breathing shallow your feet quite literally cold. The children, fortunately enough, donât seem to pick up on your nerves, and only do a good job at distracting you, by asking about the river festival that would take place tomorrow afternoon. The river festival was something you had been looking forward to for ages, not only because it was the first performance with your Yosakoi dance team after a long time of having been too busy to train properly. Not the school dance team, but a team of adults, who all came together several times a week to practice Yosakoi and perform it at events like the river festival. Of course, dancing this specific dance in your spare time was a great basis of also helping out at the school club, and many parents of children you were teaching had promised you, they would come to see you dance tomorrow. It felt good to have that sense of community through a hobby you shared with so many different people, but you couldnât help the disappointment that already settled in your stomach when you thought about tomorrow. You had wanted to finally be brave, to finally talk to Sugawara a little bit more, so you had decided weeks ago, that you would invite him to come see you dance at the festival; after you could go look at the stand and eat something and watch the fireworks. But it had never come to that, and even though you had his contact saved in your phone, you had never texted him before. Considering his behaviour over the past days, you doubted it was appropriate to text him now.
First period came and went faster than you could comprehend, and by the time the first break ended, the smile on your face was hard to miss. The directorâs words still echoed in your head as he read out the review from last weekâs teaching demonstration. You had apparently proven cool headed even in overstimulating and challenging situations and were not deterred by unforeseen events. According to the review, you had handled the unfortunate incident of a sick kid throwing up in class better than most well-experienced teachers would.
It was high praise that was bestowed upon you with that review, and it made you feel all the sillier for your breakdown last week, the one Sugawara had so caringly accompanied you through. All the more it stung that he immediately made a beeline when he saw you trying to walk over to him during second break. And finally, you got angry. You had tried to thank him, to apologize for losing your head last week and wanted to share good news with him, but all he did was run away like a timid 12-year-old. Meanwhile, you had received excellent feedback and were looking forward to the festival tomorrow. If he didnât want to know about these things, then he wouldnât get to ruin your joy either.
That decision led you to enjoying the rest of the day even more, out of pure spite. You played ball games with your class during recess, taught the children in the Yosakoi club the next part of the dance they were practicing and convinced them, they could already dance most of it completely on their own, without having to copy off of you. And after you had sent the children home, you went to your own dance practice, laughed with your friends, made plans on which make-up to wear tomorrow and which hair accessories, and finally biked home in the pitch dark of the Miyagi night, picking up a tray of the new chicken dish you had meant to try out on your way past a convenience store.
Saturday morning was a lot better than the previous one. You had allowed yourself to sleep in and prepare an extensive breakfast before showering and packing your bag with the dance costume and all the things you needed for the day. Around noon a group of people from your dance team came to pick you up, all of them already excitedly chattering about the festival and the performance that was due.
What followed the arrival at the community centre was a haze of colours as everyone dressed in their costumes and helped each other apply the makeup. Unlike other teams, there was no colour scheme you stuck to, so while you went with your usual, well tested and proofed combination of colours, others experimented more with glitter and painting flowers, stars and other shapes onto their skin. While a ruckus broke out, when some of the male university students, who were members of your team, also decided they absolutely needed some sparkly hair accessories and heart shaped glitter stones stuck to their cheeks, two of your peers had managed to wrangle you into a chair so they could draw flowers on your cheeks, too. You pretended to protest, but you knew their insistence was a gesture of caring for you, and when they were done, you had to admit they had done a very nice job with the countless little flowers that speckled your cheeks and nose, although you wondered if they might have gone a little over board with the glitter stones they had added underneath your eyes.
The room that had been assigned to your team was pure chaos for almost one and a half hours, people climbing over bags, searching combs or hair needles, a piece of their costume or their wooden clappers for the dance. Someone was playing traditional Japanese music from a speaker, which only added to the noise and excitement that soon seemed to reach critical levels, so it wasnât an overstatement to claim you were relieved when the team captain announced it was time to line up and get ready for the performance.
Like always before a show, your heart was beating in your throat, but the smile that was consistently held in place on your face was genuine. Standing in rows of two, Haruna, the friend at your side, kept happily blabbing about how much she had been looking forward to today. Sure, it was by far not the biggest festival you ever danced on. In fact, it was tiny, just a few hundred people coming from the surrounding villages, mostly to check out food stands and see the fireworks. Nonetheless, it was made special because this was the place where most people knew your faces. These people out there watching knew you, and they cheered along to the music, encouraged you, even when the hot early-summer sun drove beads of sweat onto your forehead.
You were just in the process of thinking that today was the perfect day for that festival, and that it had been a long time since you had actually really looked forward to dancing for an audience, when suddenly Haruna beside you started talking about her boyfriend. Immediately your vision lost its vibrant colours and instead you were reminded of a certain someone with silver hair and deep, brown, soulful eyes. You had wanted Sugawara to be here so badly, had wanted him to see you dance with your team, had wanted him to admire the effort it had taken to get this performance down to this degree of complexity, had wanted him to afterwards hand you a bottle of water, or sports drink, and smile at you and tell you âwell doneâ-
Your spiralling thoughts were interrupted by the command to pile out of the room and in orderly rows you stepped out of the community centre and into the blinding light of the afternoon sun. The act before you â a taiko drum group, was still performing, so your group quietly piled behind the stage and listened. Those who stood in the right angle, stretched their heads to catch a glimpse of the drummers, some of the girls on the team giggling at the shirtless men, and immediately earning a shushed warning from the vice-captain. You also listened, as was the respectful thing to do, but your mind was otherwise occupied by forcing useless daydreams upon you. How would today have gone if you had accepted Sugawaraâs invitation to sleep over last week? If you hadnât been so worried about being a nuisance to him, maybe you could have talked more. Laughed, learnt about each other, and maybe that would have been enough to give you the courage to ask him out on a date. Properly. So, both of you knew and were certain about what was going on. Perhaps you would have gone on a date during the past week. You could have told him about the excellent results of the review. You could have invited him to come see you at the festival, could have asked him to pick you up with his car to drive you here, or offered to pick him upâŠ
The taiko performance ended with a bang and everyone started applauding. You joined the applause, still half-dazed from the thoughts of Sugawara that seemed to have clung themselves to you more than you wanted to allow them. Absentmindedly you felt for the wooden clappers â naruko â and the paper fan at your side.
Everything after was a blur. The motivational speech of your captain, which quickly got you back into the right mindset for the dance, the running on stage, finding your position in the formation, and only the tiny bit of intimidation of standing front row for the first time. The team was introduced by the speakers, who stood to the side, and would speak over the song to tell the story in words, which the performance told in movement. You bowed, cheered on your teammates and got into position, as you always did.
The first notes of the song made you forget all the troubles of the past days. It washed over you like a wave lapping at the beach and dragged you out into the ocean, into a storm of emotion that told the story of two estranged friends who had to find their way back to each other. The movements came naturally, quickly, fluently but powerful. The music filled your ears, your head, your heart and you lost yourself in the push and pull, in the rhythm of wooden clappers and shouts, and when the second part of the song rolled around, calm and almost hesitant in its blooming beauty, you felt like you had finally reached the feeling you had been chasing the whole time.
With the calmness in the middle of the song, you pulled out your paper fan, the clapping sound of its opening timed perfectly with the rest of the group. Where the first part had been dominated by anger and helpless rage, the second part was led by the elegant sadness that accompanied the realisation that a friendship was lost. Your body followed the performance like you had trained, keeping your eyes on the open fan as you raised it above your head. When you threw it shut, again in perfect timing with everyone else, eyes still fixed on it, you lowered the fan down to your chest, and then opened it once more, lifting your eyes finally up into the crowd.
Staring back at you, right past the emotions the dancing had drawn to your face, and straight into your heart, were the familiar eyes of Sugawara. He stood pretty much in the middle of the crowd, people of all ages having come together to watch the dance, some of your students having pressed themselves to sit in front of the first row on the stone tiles that made up the square in front of the community centre.
It wasnât so much Sugawaraâs presence that shocked you, as the lack of a reaction you had to it. You kept your eyes forward, as the choreography demanded, your gaze never leaving his face. Usually his reaction might have made your cheeks heat up and your heart thrum wildly, but you were already sweating from the sun beating down on you and your heart was hammering from the demanding first part of the performance, so even if the way Sugawara was watching you now had any impact on you, you wouldnât have been able to tell.
Instead, you memorised the way his mouth stood slightly open, and his eyes followed you as you lowered yourself to one knee. If you hadnât known better, you would have guessed the expression in his eyes was one of longing. You turned, your back now to the audience, and at your side you could feel your teammates breathing heavily, as all of you were fumbling around with your costumes. But the music went on, and so did the performance, and when you turned back to the audience, the upper layer of your costume falling away to reveal a differently coloured second layer, a bright smile on all of your faces, you didnât have the time to search for Sugawaraâs face again in the crowd.
The last part of the song was the most emotional, fast paced and passionate, the hopeful fluttering in your chest when you realised that some people were meant to stay in your life, no matter the hardships that had once seperated you. Everything came together in this last uproar â the music swelled, the choreography had kept its most impressive techniques for last, the colours of the costumes shone brighter than they had before, the voices of the narrators rose about the noise of the clappers supporting the rhythm, and between all of that you caught Sugawaraâs eyes again. Never as long as before, not in a matter that would have necessarily let him know you had seen him watch you, but enough to assure you that he was not taking his eyes off of you. Not when sweat started running into your eyes, or one of your clappers slipped out of your hands and joined the others that had slowly but surely accumulated on the floor. He didnât take his eyes off of you, not when the music ended, not when everyone bowed to the audience, and not when you hurried off the stage and got lead to a table where volunteers had prepared cups of water and cold tea for the performers.
Almost you expected him to come over, as many friends and family members did after the performance. But instead, he vanished from your sight again, and a moment later a small child hugged you around your middle â one of your students as you quickly realised â and told you how much fun it had been to watch the dance. More children and parents began crowding around, making you step to the side, so your teammates had better access to the much needed hydration, and before you knew it, you were being bombarded with questions from the children. How long had you trained for that performance? Why didnât the school club get to use paper fans? Why were you so sweaty? Did you draw the flowers on your cheeks all by yourself?
It took you almost half an hour, until you had talked to every child to their satisfaction, and the parents that were with them apologised for keeping you so long. You laughed it off and truthfully told them you enjoyed being asked about the dancing, but once things quieted down around you, loneliness began settling in, faster and harder than you had expected. The rest of your team members had already gone back into the community centre, probably even changed and cleaned up a little, the children were back to watching another performance or begging their parents for some food, and Sugawara was nowhere to be seen either.
With a resigned sigh, you grabbed another cup of barley tea, emptied it in one go, and threw the empty cup into the provided trash can before heading towards the building. Like you had predicted, most of your teammates were gone already. Some younger men were huddled in a corner over a mobile game, but they only acknowledged you with short nods before going back to their game.
You grabbed your bag with your regular clothes, gratefully noticing that someone had placed your wooden clapper on top of it, and headed to the bathrooms to change out of your costume. The fabric was lightweight, so most parts had already dried again, but still a shiver ran down your spine when you got exposed to the air. Quickly you wiped yourself down with some wet wipes and pulled on what you had brought as a change of clothes â a shirt with the logo of the dance club, and a wide pair of trousers for the warm evening.
Stepping out of the bathroom stall, you considered wiping of the make up too, but a glance into the mirror told you, it had kept up better than you had expected. Even though sweat had run down your face in streams earlier, there was hardly any smudging, and the colours were just as vibrant as before. You hadnât even lost any of the glitter stones. Smiling to yourself, you shouldered the bag, pulling out your phone to ask where the others were.
You had just stepped out of the bathroom, when you almost bumped into someone in the hallway. The impact was only narrowly avoided, but the other person still stumbled a little. Immediately apologizing, you looked up and found the person wasnât just a random stranger, but in fact the very person who had done their best to avoid you for the past week.
âSugawara-san,â you gasped quietly, quickly taking in his appearance.
He wore jeans, like always, and an oversized T-shirt. He was holding his hands out in front of him, water droplets still gleaming in the low light of the hallway; he seemed to be coming from the bathroom himself. His silver hair was slightly dishevelled, in an unfairly attractive way, and his eyes widened when he recognised you.
âOh, hey,â he stammered out. âNice- nice job on your performance earlier.â He awkwardly gestured over his shoulder.
âOh, uhm, thanks,â you replied and bowed quickly, the same kind of hasty bow you always performed when someone complimented your dancing. âIâm surprised you came to see us.â
As if a switch had been flipped, Sugawaraâs cheeks began glowing red.
âYes, of course, I- itâs the biggest festival we have here soâŠâ
âRight,â you nodded, internally slapping yourself. Of course he hadnât come to see you dance, he was here because it was a festival.
For a moment awkward silence overtook the otherwise empty hallway. It wasnât even late afternoon yet, but the shadows grew long, the twilight making a shiver run down your spine, although it was warm enough to already make sweat beads gather at your forehead again.
âIâm sorry for last week,â Sugawara suddenly blurted out, making your gaze snap back up to him in surprise. âI didnât mean to make you feel uncomfortable with that invitation-â
âYou didnât,â you quickly interrupted him, waving your hands in the air as if to shoosh away that preposterous idea. âYou didnât at all! I just- I left because I didnât want to be any more of a burden on you.â And because you hadnât trusted yourself to not do anything stupid or foolish, like ask him to kiss you when he bid you good night.
âYou- you arenât â were never â a burden,â Sugawara denied, a look of horror spreading over his face. âIt was important to me to be by your side, if you needed someone. And you would have been welcome to stay over, so you didnât have to be alone. I just realised too late it probably came across like I was asking you to have sex with me.â
âDid you?â Your heart skipped at beat at his words. Had you perhaps always had a chance with Sugawara?
âNo!â Or not. âI- I just wanted to help, and Iâm sorry it made things awkward.â
âAnd I didnât want to be a burden on you.â
Sugawara stared at you for a moment.
âSo- youâre not⊠mad at me, or anything?â The way his voice was so hopeful made you want to walk over to him and squish his cheeks between your hands, but you resisted the urge.
âNo, no of course not. I also didnât think youâd try to⊠try to exploit my vulnerability for sex.â Although you werenât sure if it had come to that, who would have felt like they exploited whom.
âThatâs a relief,â Sugawara sighed, a small smile finally spreading across his face.
âOh, there you are!â The moment got interrupted as Haruna, your teammate, pushed open the door to the corridor and stuck her head in. âWeâre about to drive back. You coming?â
Right. You were supposed to drive back with your teammates. You should have known they wouldnât bother to stick around for much longer than grabbing a bite to eat after the performance was done. And they hadnât been held up by a bunch of elementary school students to do so. You cursed Harunaâs timing because she had walked in just as things seemed to clear up with Sugawara finally, but you had to accept your fate.
âIâll be right out,â you told her, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder.
âI can drive you. If you want.â Sugawaraâs voice interrupted your set decision. âI wanted to stay to see the fireworks, if thatâs not too late for youâŠâ He looked between you and Haruna expectantly, who shrugged and gestured to you.
The old worry came to mind. If Sugawara drove you, heâd be forced to make a detour, and that surely would be bothersome to him. Except he had just told you a few minutes ago that you were never a burden on him, and he had offered. So why shouldnât you be allowed to choose what you wanted, not what you thought other people wanted?
âThat would be great, Sugawara-san,â you smiled at him, and he hummed relieved.
âCool, have fun,â Haruna said, and before you could bid her goodbye, she had already disappeared again.
âThank you,â you mumbled, earning a bright smile from him in return.
âSure, youâre welcome. Except-â
Nervously you looked up at him, noticing the serious expression he suddenly wore.
âI think itâs time you started calling me Suga, you know, like everyone else⊠Or KĆshi.â
You couldnât pretend to hide your shock at his words. Of course, you knew everyone called him Suga, other than his students, you knew nobody who actually called him Sugawara-san as you did. And he had offered you to call him Suga many times before. But KĆshi? His given name was intimate, something only people really close to him would call him. So, to offer you thatâŠ
âOkay,â you nodded, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing now. âI think, I can do that, KĆshi.â
His name tasted sweet on your tongue, and his serious expression was immediately replaced by a timid smile and a soft blush over his cheeks. He looked startled, as if he hadnât actually expected you to use his given name.
âPerfect,â he clapped his hands, âthen we got that out of the way.â
You laughed at his antics and shook your head.
âIf I had known it means that much to you, Iâd have started calling you Suga way earlier.â
âNu-uh, no,â Suga waved a scolding finger in the air. âYouâve graduated to given-name-basis, no going back to my family name.â
Laughing, you shook your head again. âAlright, alright, got it,â you grinned, and finally moved away from the spot to which you had been rooted since you had almost stumbled into him.
âGood.â Suga looked satisfied and walked over the remaining distance to the door that had shielded you from the brighter world beyond the corridor. âLetâs get your bag into the car and find something to eat, hm?â
You nodded in approval and aimed to walk past him, but as you did, his hand came to rest on the strap of your bag.
âGive me that,â he demanded, but you hesitated. He had already offered to drive you home, how much more did he want to do for you? Apparently, he hadnât decided how much more, because he gently tucked at the strap. âCome on. Please?â
You finally allowed him to pull the bag off your shoulder and throw it over his own, and Suga looked like you had just given him a special present. Together you walked through the entrance hall of the community centre, the open main doors allowing hot air to stream into the building. Once outside Suga turned not right, towards the plaza where the stage and the food stands were but instead left towards the parking lot.
You followed him, quietly watching him walking next to you as if it were the most normal thing in the world to him. Maybe he didnât feel as nervous in your presence as you felt in his, maybe this wasnât nerve-wrecking for him at all. But you had a feeling he was good at pretending to have the upper hand, which was why he had avoided you during the past days when he wasnât sure where he stood with you. But if there was a chance, he felt just as nervous about you as you did about him- and he had offered to drive you home after watching the fire works together. And he had offered you to call him by his given name. SoâŠ
âNe, KĆshi,â you asked while the two of you strolled over the parking lot.
The air had heated up a lot over the asphalt, and it felt like you had stepped into an oversized air fryer, but the sun began sinking behind the mountains, the shadow already covering a good portion of the town.
Suga hummed in response and glimpsed at you from the corner of his eyes.
âI was really glad to see you at the performance today,â you admitted. That hadnât been what you had wanted to say, but it was the next best thing.
âI was really glad to see you dance again,â he replied. Of course, right, he had seen you dance during other festivals, too. âAnd front row this time. You were fantastic! All bam and swoosh and uhi!â
He tried imitating some of the movements he had observed, your heavy bag flinging around him and his adorable attempts at onomatopoeia making you raise your eyebrows in amusement.
âIf you liked our bam and swoosh and uhi so much, youâre always welcome to join,â you teased, making Suga bark out a laugh.
âIâm afraid I have two left feet when it comes to dancing. Iâm more the volleyball-kind of bam and swoosh and uhi type of guy,â embarrassed he rubbed his neck. âBut Iâll come and see your next performance too, if you like. I donât think Iâll ever get tired of watching you dance.â
His words were supported by a gentle shove, his arm bumping against yours for a moment, his bare skin leaving a burning trace against yours, while your breath hitched from his words.
âIâll count on it,â you chuckled, your eyes flickering down to his hand that was casually swinging between the two of you. Where did that temptation come from to just take it, wrap your fingers around his? You could almost feel how warm his palm would be against yours, dry, and a little rough from always cleaning the blackboard with chalky water, but gentle and careful.
âHey, I was thinking-â you continued before the saner part of your brain could stop you. âWould you like to go out some time? I mean, properly. For dinner maybe.â
Suga stopped in his steps, and for a moment you thought you had ruined everything, that he would tell you he could drive you home but that was it, that you had completely misread the whole thing and were an idiot to believe someone like him could ever be interested in you.
Then you realised you were standing in front of his car.
Suga pulled out his car keys and unlocked the door, before he turned to look at you, his expression completely neutral.
âHow do you mean,â he asked in a voice that was entirely too calm for your liking. If he had any interest in you, heâd be excited, wouldnât be? Instead, he opened the car trunk, not taking his eyes off you. âLike a date?â
Nope, this was too much. You felt dizzy, which was idiotic, since the actual rejection was still outstanding. In an attempt to make the world stop spinning quite as quickly, you leant against his car, crossing your arms over your chest protectively, while Suga carefully placed your bag into the car.
âYeah, why not? I mean-â
His eyes widened slightly, and his neutral expression melted into nothingness as a relieved smile overtook his features.
âOh, thank god,â he sighed, leaning his head back and taking a deep breath, before propping himself up against the side of the car with one hand. âI thought we were setting ourselves up for another misunderstanding.â
He laughed lightly, shaking his head, and you couldnât help but admire the way his silver strands danced in the sun. He was close enough for you to see the skin around his eyes crinkle, the little mole under his left eye and the freckles that spread over the back of his nose. It took you a moment to realise just how close he suddenly was, but in all honesty, it was impossible to tell which one of you had lent in first, him or you. Maybe you had just moved simultaneously.
It seemed like Suga noticed the lack of distance between your faces at the same moment, because his eyes widened a fraction, but his easy smile never faltered as he let his gaze skip to your lips and back.
âIt itâs a date youâre talking about, then Iâm all for it,â he whispered into the narrow space between you, his breath hotly fanning over your skin.
You just stared at him, unable to answer. Something about the way he suddenly seemed so confident had completely fried any reply you might have mustered, and all you could think about was how he was close enough for you to pick up on the scent of his shower gel, one you recognised after having used it yourself last week.
It was impossible to tell for how long Suga and you stood next to his car, both of you leaning against it, with less than an inch separating you in the scorching heat of the summer evening. It might have been seconds or hours, you werenât sure, not when your whole field of vision was taken up by the beautiful man in front of you, who looked at you as if he had just found the most precious treasure.
In the end it was Suga who caved first, exhaling a shaky breath before closing the miniscule distance between you and locking his lips against yours. He was warm, warmer than the air around you, his hand big and steady as he placed it against your waist and guided you to lean your back against his car. You followed his lead, senses overwhelmed by him, the scent of his shampoo, the taste of bottled green tea from his lips that so softly moved against yours, as if you were too delicate to even touch properly. The way he held you now left no thought in your brain, only comfortable static that hummed appreciatively at the way Suga leant his weight more against you, unbearably warm but oh so comfortingly present. Your arm snuck around his waist, carefully running up his back, feeling the soft fabric of his shirt ripple underneath your fingertips, and like a reflex he arched his back closer to you, deepening the kiss beyond the tame locking of lips he had restrained himself to before. The way he moved now, gentle lips demanding more from you, was but a glimpse of the desire that slumbered beneath a façade of control, you realised, as he brought his other hand up to the side of your face, using it to tilt your head in a manner that would allow him better access to your lips.
Just as you meant to wrap your arm around his neck, in a meagre attempt to hide the lack of strength in your legs, Suga suddenly pulled away. Not far, just far enough to separate his lips from yours. Gasping, you tried chasing after him, but with his hand still at the side of your face, he held you in place. His eyes skipped to your cheeks; his breath came in fast pants that could not be explained by the heat alone. You were definitely not the only one out of their depth. Or at least so you thought.
âNo,â he breathed out, making you freeze. âThis isnât right.â
The world stopped. Hadnât he just been the one pulling you closer, kissing you harder? He ran his thumb along the side of your face, his eyes following the motion.
âIâm gonna smear your flower make-up.â
You blinked.
âReally,â you asked incredulously. âThatâs what youâre worried about now?â
Suga giggled gleefully as you relaxed into his hold and brushed his nose against your hair.
âYou look cute with that make-up,â he whispered against your ear, driving more heat into your cheeks than before as the words so effortlessly rolled off his tongue. âBesides, let me take you out properly first, hm?â
âSugawara KĆshi!â You pulled away far enough to be able to look at his blushed face. âAre you being a tease?â
âYou had to learn about it earlier or later,â he chuckled, carefully letting go of you and taking a step back. âIâll make it up to you.â
You felt the air rush back to where he had held you before, leaving you with a shiver in the hot summer evening. The shadows of the mountains had crept far enough across the parking lot to block out the sun already, but the air was still warm and humid.
You watched as Suga bounded on his heels once, twice, and bit his lower lip while looking you over before he finally spoke up again.
âHow about, for our first date, we go back to the festival,â Suga suggested, standing a little straighter, as if posture alone could get his still erratically beating heart under control. âAnd weâll share some fried noodles, and shaved ice, and some taiyaki before we search a good spot to watch the fireworks from. Foodâs on me, obviously.â
For a moment there was nothing you could do but stare at KĆshi. The way the wind tucked at his silver hair, his brown eyes glimmered hopefully, his otherwise pristine white shirt a little crumpled where he had used his body to keep you pressed against his car to kiss you. Rolling your eyes at him playfully, you pushed away from the car.
âWhat if I also want Takoyaki,â you asked teasingly, making KĆshi sigh in mock-surrender.
âThen Iâll be broke by the end of the night, but at least youâll be happy,â he joked and joined you as you stepped around the car. He slammed the trunk shut and locked the car before turning to you.
âBasically, what I mean is: itâs up to you. I think, festivals are perfect for dates, and even if you donât want this to be an official date yet, Iâd love to treat you. Youâve had an exhausting day.â
KĆshi smiled at you softly, and you hesitantly nibbled at your lower lip, which didnât really help get a clear head because you could swear you could still taste his kiss.
âDoesnât it at all bother you, that Iâm not wearing anything nice,â you asked, helplessly tucking at the oversized team shirt you had slipped on. âI havenât even showered after our performanceâŠâ
KĆshiâs eyes wandered down from your shoulders, taking in the way the fabric blew around your hips in the evening breeze, the way your trousers fell in soft folds down to your ankles, the shoes you had slipped on in the expectation to be wearing them not much longer than it took you to walk to the parking lot and get driven home.
âYou look perfect,â he replied, his voice leaving no room for your insecurity, admiration laced deeply into his tone. âIâd rather have you look authentically yourself than whatever polished version you would present the world if you tried to convince me that youâre cute. Because I already know that. To me youâre the most perfect, when your passions are worn on your sleeve.â
You wanted to tease him for the cheesy comment he had delivered, but the honesty in his voice made the words stuck in your throat. You thought back to all the times he had caught you in the wrong moment, when your hands were still dripping with chalky water from cleaning the blackboard, when your hair was dishevelled after you had played catch with the children during break, when at the end of the day your blouse was crumpled and your cardigan askew, or early in the morning, where the hot cup of tea you had wrapped your hands around was the only thing that seemed to keep you tethered in the world of the waking.
âWell,â you swallowed thickly, not sure what else to do with the words KĆshi had just offered you. âIf thatâs the case, letâs go on that date!â
KĆshi nodded and held his hand out for you to take. Wide eyed you looked between him and his stretched-out hand. It wasnât unusual anymore for couples to hold hands in the street, but it was still very much understood as a declaration of belonging with each other. He might as well have gotten on the roof of the community centre and shouted for everyone to hear, that you were going out now. It also showed that he was serious about you, that it wasnât just something he wanted to try out and would drop as soon as it stopped being new and exciting.
So, after a momentâs hesitation, you quickly placed your hand in his. Immediately his warm fingers closed around yours, his hand bigger and rougher, but gentle, even gentler than you had imagined him to be. Beaming down on you with a bright smile that you could have sworn had the power to put the sun to shame, he started walking side by side with you back to the festival, and if anyone would have asked him, he confidently would have told them that this was already the best festival and the best first date (hopefully also the last first date) he had ever been on.
I know lots of people think Sugishita is going to scream at Sakura or trying to fight him. And I really want this to be the expectation the other boys have as well. But what I'd love to see (not saying it's going to happen, only that it'd be sweet) is Sugishita crouching down next to Sakura hidden under his blanket and telling him, he understands. Maybe we get some more Sugishita backstory. Maybe he's just there. And eventually he suggests to Sakura, that they can go and try to find SuĆ together. Because I can't look at these panels and think he's not thinking off a plan.
Either way, it's going to be interesting to see how Sugishita handles Sakura's pain (if he actually ends up going), and I think no matter what happens, it'll let us learn a lot more about Sugishita
Before I go to write any longer analysis posts, there's a few things I need you to know about the new chapter. Pls excuse me as I go on a bit of a rant from a professional standpoint
*clears throat* English and Translation Studies major in uni here, hi
THIS IS BAD TRANSLATION. THERE IS IN FACT NO TRANSLATION HAPPENING HERE. Translating is the act of transmitting a message from one language into another. Interpreting is transmitting the message in spoken language while translating usually refers to written texts. In layman's terms, both are included under the umbrella of translation so that's what I'm using here. But what Suo is doing is simply policing people in multiple languages. He's not transmitting any messages between any languages even tho he clearly knows multiple
The core ethics of a professional translator/interpreter are also to maintain neutrality and transparency. We are not allowed to change the message we're transmitting in any way, we're not allowed to insert our own opinions into the message, and we're not allowed to pick and choose which parts of the message get transmitted. A translator isn't supposed to draw attention to themselves, our role is to be invisible. We're simply there to transmit messages between people who lack a common language, and who we are outside the job and the role of a translator - our identity and problems - is left behind at the door. These are things we're taught on day 1 of Translation Studies. So if Suo and his brothers are supposed to act as translators/interpreters/multicultural community negotiators, this is UNETHICAL PRACTICES
Secondly, I need you to know the term "linguistic imperialism" that popped up very early in my studies (and might be something of a special interest for me). In our modern world, English is the global lingua franca and Anglo-American culture has spread all over the world via Hollywood movies, music, memes and other media. In our modern world, knowing English gives you a privilege over people who do not know English, and an advantage in education, the job market, etc. and just gaining worldly knowledge in general. So if English is not your native language, you're more or less forced to learn English in order to get ahead in life
It appears to me that in Bankoku-gai, knowing English is not the privilege, multilingualism is. The more languages you know, the more privilege you have in a multicultural environment. And that gives the multilingual people a position of power over the people who only know one or two languages. Which is why we get Bacchus complaining here about being "only bilingual". And then Rakta makes fun of him for it
And anyway, this was just the first one of MANY fishy things I spotted in the chapter
I'm no translations major, but a Japan studies major, and I'd like to add onto this.
First of all, I think it's interesting how different people perceived this first scene, because to me it didn't look like he was translating. SuĆ's no neutral party, wasn't even before interfering here. He's a captain, a leader, someone who has to structure the people around him. I feel like the translations in the speech bubbles are only there for the sake of the audience, so they can understand what's going on (although I don't know how correct the English/Japanese translation of the other languages are). Those are not something SuĆ says out loud. SuĆ goal never was to translate. He's just talking.
The second grid of panels is interesting, too, from a language perspective. Most people in Japan don't know any foreign languages. Maybe a tiny bit of English. If you know one foreign language (like English, as Bacchus does), most Japanese people will think you're really good at languages. I speak four, and most of my Japanese friends lost their minds. Of course, next to SuĆ, who speaks (at least) five languages, Bacchus (and I too) feels under-skilled, but outside of Bankokugai, people would appreciate Bacchus for being bilingual. (Also, in the original, SuĆ's way of talking about Bacchus being bilingual also sounds kind of teasing to me)
What I find way more problematic than SuĆ not translating but ordinarily communicating, is the fact that most citizens of Bankokugai don't seem to know Japanese, which - as shown - allows tensions to rise by being unable to communicate (which ties this back into the overall theme of communication we have so prominently featured in Wind Breaker) while also restricting them to Bankokugai. They couldn't move to anywhere else in Japan, because you need to know Japanese to properly live there.
A Thought Too Soft (1/2) - Sugawara KĆshi x Reader
Pairing: Sugawara KĆshi x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used)
Era: post!timeskip
Genre: angst (Part One) / fluff (Part Two)
Word Count: 7 559
Warnings: no use of (y/n), mentions of throwing up, food consumption (also meat), Suga and reader are coworkers, reader is training to become a teacher and coaching the school yosakoi dance group, mention of sex (nothing explicit, you know me),
Summary: You picked up your colleague Suga at the side of the street, but it seemed like you needed him more than the other way around.
A/N: Very self-indulgent. Part Two is shameless advertisement for my favourite dance in the world (which you most likely have never heard of)
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Rain is thrumming down on Sugaâs umbrella, an even rhythm of heavy drops, beating steadily against the plastic that is shielding him from the cool early-summer rain. Or at least shielding his upper half. The lower is drenched already, but not even the uncomfortable feeling of the heavy fabric sticking to his chilled skin is able to dampen his mood. Not when all that is replaying in his mind are pictures of you from the day.
As he braves on, through the night, along the side of the mountain street, he thinks back to all the little glances he got of you that day, how you came into the teachersâ room this morning with a tray full of cookies and how you made sure everyone got one, even going as far as bringing the tray over to where Suga was stressing out about the volleyball practice that afternoon. He remembered the way you had explained to him that you had a tendency to bake when you were nervous, and with one of your teaching demonstrations coming up â an important step of becoming a proper teacher â you had spent the night baking, since sleep had refused itself to you. Suga had wished he could reach out and take your hand, assure you that you would ace your class, that there was nothing to worry about, but considering he was your senior, even if just by two years, and that you were in a professional setting with numerous other teachers around, he had been able to do little more than wish you good luck.
A particularly strong gush of wind tore at his umbrella, and Suga quickly tiled it, so the plastic wouldnât get ripped out of his hands, in return being rewarded with a fair amount of rain hitting him straight into the face. He shushed the cold away with other moments of having seen your face during the day. When he had waited in front of his own classroom and he had seen you compliment a little girl for the picture, she had drawn for you before coming into school that morning. Or the precious few minutes during the first break, where he had watched you over the rim of his teacup, as you had helped a kid tie their shoe lace. Then of course there was the big break, where you had playground watch alongside him, the way you kept tucking at your hair nervously trying to push the thought of the upcoming teaching demonstration out of your mind, having forever burnt itself into his mind.
He had ended up not seeing you for the rest of the day, until the evening, where he had come out of the gym after volleyball practice with the elementary school club, and you had seemed to bid good bye to some students and their parents, after what he assumed to have been dance club practice. He had noticed you wore different trousers and shoes that were neither sport shoes nor your usual style, but he hadnât thought much of it, far more concentrating on the way you repeated the dance clubs motto back at the enthusiastic child and bowed politely to the mother, who complemented your patience with the children. After that, he had been forced to tear himself away from the sight, and instead had turned back towards his classroom, where he had left todays tests on his desk. He usually preferred working at the school, but for once he decided to take the work home.
And that was how he found himself walking the mountain street in pouring rain, a little melancholic that he had no excuse to see you over the weekend. No volleyball tournament which you usually attended for moral support of the students, no dance festival where he could claim to turn up just for the childrenâs sake, no school festival either, not even a parent-teacher-evening or any other activities. Not this weekend at least. But he was already looking forward to next weekend, to the townâs annual river festival. Certainly, heâd find a suitable moment to bump into you there.
Suga sighed and brushed some of his grey hair out his forehead. He remembered what all his friends had told him: if he never made a move on you, heâd never know if he might have a chance. But how was he supposed to do that? You were coworkers! And even though it was as good as decided that you would start working officially at this school once you had passed all exams, heâd still be above you in hierarchy. It would be wrong to try anything, because he didnât want you to agree to anything just because you felt like you had to, because he outranked you!
Absentmindedly he stepped over a frog that was hopping right between his feet, surprised when suddenly the headlights of a car caught him from behind. Making sure to walk as far on the left side of the pavement as possible, he stopped walking, more a signal to the driver that he was being careful than anything else, when the car began slowing down. Blinking against the headlights, Suga wondered who would slow down their car in the pouring rain next to a stranger, just before he recognised the familiar shape and colour of your car. Irritated he blinked as you came to a stop beside him and scrolled down the window. Suga could have sworn you had left the school before him, and usually you came by bike, too, not the car. Still, he stepped closer.
âNeed a ride?â
You were leaning over to the window, trying to get a look at his face in the dark.
âReally?â Suga could hide neither the excitement nor the surprise at the offer. âI donât want to cause you any inconvenience.â
Still, he stepped closer and leant down to the window, angling his umbrella so it wouldnât rain into your car.
âYour houseâs on the way,â you shrugged, your voice unusually flat and devoid of any of your usual enthusiasm or kindness. Just a simple statement.
Now that he was closer, Suga could spot the dark circles under your eyes and- had you cried? Your eyes looked unusually puffy and red. His heart did a painful tuck in his chest at the realisation that you werenât doing too well but still had extended the offer of driving him home, so he quickly nodded.
âThat would be amazing,â he agreed, and hastily pulled open the passenger door, making sure to shake out his umbrella and slipped into your car.
âYou can put your bag in the backâ, you offered while you scrolled the window back up, keeping the rain out.
Warm air conditioning air blew against Sugaâs skin, as he twisted to position his messenger bag and his umbrella behind his seat on the floor. He couldnât help the way his heart was beating so fast; it was the first time he was in your car, and it felt like he had just been invited to invade a part of your privacy without having been given instructions on how to handle this honour. The air in the car smelled like car seats and plastic, no air freshener, no perfume, nothing. Completely neutral, although your car was old, inherited from your granddad after he had given up on driving due to age, at least that was what you had told Suga. He had always imagined you might use some kind of air refresher, like all his friends did. Not the flowery kind, necessarily, more something along the lines of âfresh linenâ or âocean breezeâ, or whatever they were called.
When he twisted back around to the front, he found you were watching him patiently. You really did look tired. And wet. Why were you wet? Hadnât you been driving in the car? But your hair was almost dripping, and your shirt clung to your skin, soaked with water. In the dark it was hard to tell, but Suga assumed, your pants werenât off much better â he glanced down, noticing you still wore the pants he had seen you in after practice, not the ones you had worn this morning.
âSeatbelt,â you instructed, raising your eyebrows a little, as if you were disappointed, he had spaced out.
âOh, right, sorry,â Suga chuckled apologetically, and quickly clipped the buckle shut.
Without another word you set your blinker to signal you were about to pull back into the street fully, as if there was any other car on this lonely mountain road. Suga watched you accelerate to speed again, not as fast as was allowed, instead a secure speed considering the weather, before you suddenly spoke up.
âYou can put on music, if you like,â you offered, nodding towards the old fashioned radio, which seemed to have been equipped to catch Bluetooth signals.
âOh, okay,â Suga nodded, and pulled out his mobile, fiddling around with the radio and finally setting up a connection. It felt like he was under an enormous amount of pressure as he scrolled through his playlists, as if his entire future and whether he might have a chance with you or not depended on what kind of music he chose now. After a few seconds of hesitation, he settled on a pre-curated playlist of anime-movie soundtracks. You didnât seem to have any special kind of reaction to the music, that suddenly began bleeding from the speaker, adding to the sound of the motor and the drumming rain.
After a few moments of silence, only interrupted by the familiar voice of Radwimpsâs lead singer, Suga carefully spoke up.
âHow was the rest of your day?â
Your eyes stayed fixed on the road as you answered.
âGood,â but it didnât escape Sugaâs notice, that your fingers tightened around the steering wheel. âYou?â
Suga considered you for a moment longer. It was obvious that the rest of your day had not been good, but also that you didnât want to talk about it. And he wouldnât force you to. So, what could he do instead?
âAhhh, you know my class,â he sighed, making a big gesture out of relaxing deeper into the seat, so you could even see it from the corner of your eyes. âThe little rascals started throwing dust at each other after lunch break and I had to get them changed into their sports uniforms before sending them off to their respective clubs.â He chuckled at the memory of a group of five boys returning to the classroom, their black hair dusted over beige from the dirt in the playground. âAnd practice was good, as always. We have a practice match next Wednesday, so everyone is putting in extra effort already.â
You hummed, the only sign that you listened, and slowed down at an intersection. In the rain and dark, the view was bad, but the night beyond the car windows stayed undisturbed, no other car heading your way. Slowly, you turned right, continuing the way towards the village where Suga was living. He would have preferred a place closer to the school, but rent was cheaper out here, and as long as he was still in the early stages of his career, he preferred saving money over a shorter commute.
âHow did you end up on that street there anyway,â you suddenly asked, making Suga perk up. You glanced over to him quickly, before focusing back on the road, but it was enough to make the tips of his ears burn.
âOh, Yamame-san took me along in the morning. But his daughterâs school called him away right after lunch â apparently, she got sick â so I had to walk back.â
Again, you hummed, not continuing the conversation in any meaningful way, and Sugaâs eyes searched the dark outside the car. Oh, you were already at the bridge, he realised. Even though you had driven slowly, the time had passed far too quickly for his liking, even when there was a lot of awkward silence spreading out.
âHave you had dinner yet,â Suga suddenly asked when his stomach started aching in the familiar way that signalled him that his last meal had been far too long ago.
âNo,â you answered in one syllable, âyou?â
âMe neitherâŠâ Suga trailed off.
Would you think it was inappropriate if he asked you to stay at his place for dinner? He had some eggs in the fridge, and some chicken thighs. Maybe he could make Omelette rice for you, or Oyakodon, or fried chicken? Was that too straight forward to offer? He had to decide quickly, you would reach his village in a few minutes.
âWhat are you gonna have for dinner,â he asked instead.
Beside him, you shrugged. âIâm not sure really. I was thinking Iâd eat out today, to celebrate but-â You interrupted yourself, swallowed, and rearranged your thoughts before continuing. âI think I might drop by 7-Eleven. I think they have a new chicken dish that I meant to try out. Maybe they have some left.â
Suga couldnât help the frown that pulled at his brows. Why wouldnât you go out to celebrate? He assumed the teaching demonstration had been the occasion for the celebration, but why wouldnât you allow yourself that joy? Sure, you had been nervous beforehand, but considering how far along you were in your journey to becoming a teacher, it was more formality at this point than anything. There was no way you had screwed it up badly enough to deny yourself the joy of eating out! But he settled for keeping quiet about it, mulling over the rest of your response in his head. It didnât sit right with him, the image of you grabbing a pre-packaged box of some cold chicken and rice from the open fridge and having it heated up by the convenience store staff, or even taking it home to heat it up there and eat all by yourself, maybe in front of the TV. Sure, it was a nice treat, to do that when you werenât in the mood to cook. But considering your overall behaviour, Suga doubted youâd be able to enjoy it.
âHey,â he started, hoping his voice sounded like he had just thought of the idea, not like he had tried to banish it from his mind for the past minutes. âWhy donât you let me cook for you? I always make too much to eat alone anyway. I can make Omelette rice, or fried chicken if you like?â
He cringed at the eagerness in his voice and hoped the light that reached the inside of the car was low enough to hide his burning red ears. Next to him, your fingers tightened around the steering wheel again, before they relaxed a little.
âAre you sure,â you asked carefully, hitting the brakes as you slowed down at the entrance to the village. He had asked just in time.
âAbsolutely! Itâs the least I can do, after you let me drip all over your car seat!â Suga almost couldnât believe his luck, that you hadnât turned him down immediately.
âI- Iâd love that,â you hesitantly agreed, shooting him another glance. âSorry, I forgot which wayâŠâ
âOh, the second street on the left,â Suga quickly helped you out, pointing ahead of the car, âright before the Lawson there.â
You followed his instruction and turned into a smaller street, slowing down further. The dark and the rain made it difficult to see where the street ended and the channels that ran beside it began. Meanwhile Suga was silently panicking about what state he had left his apartment in. Yesterday he had vacuumed, so perhaps a few pieces of furniture were still out of place, but at least that meant that it was clean and there was no dirty laundry laying around anywhere.
âOh, the next right, and then youâre already in my street,â Suga quickly tore out of his thoughts, and pointed ahead again.
A few moments later you had recognised his building and pulled into one of the parking spots in front of it.
It was still pouring as you turned off the motor, and Suga quickly fished his bag and umbrella from the backseat and jumped out of the car, racing over to your side, so he had the umbrella ready for you. You smiled at him gratefully as he opened it over your head, and only when you had locked the car, did he realise how close you had to walk next to him in order to stay dry. It made his heart jump and dance inside his chest, and he wished he had further to walk then the two meters from the car and then up the stairs.
Hurriedly he unlocked the front door and turned on the light, before he ushered you inside. You mumbled the traditional greeting as you stepped over the threshold and toed off your shoes in the genkan.
âGive me your jacket,â he offered, holding out his right hand, the left already holding onto a coat hanger for your cardigan.
While you peeled of the still wet fabric, he had time to get a closer look at you. Just as he had suspected before, you were completely wet by the rain, your eyes red-rimmed and puffy and in the bright light of the hallway you looked even more tired than he had guessed.
âYouâre completely wet,â he muttered, concern thick in his voice, as you handed him your cardigan.
âSorry,â you apologized quietly, but he shook his head.
âNo, no, thatâs not- thatâs not- I just⊠do you want something dry to change into? I have some shorts and a shirt that will definitely fit you!â
âI donât want to cause you any trouble-â
âYou wouldnât! Wait here!â
Quickly Suga hung up your cardigan and patted down the short hallway into the bedroom, his socked feet slapping heavily on the wooden floor. In his wardrobe he quickly found what he had been looking for: A freshly washed pair of comfortable shorts that he usually wore to the gym, and a t-shirt Daichi had made him buy when they had gone to cheer on Karasuno as they had made it into the Volleyball Nationals for the second time in three years. On his way back out of the room he also grabbed two towels and hurried back into the hallway, where you still stood rooted in spot, right where he had left you. Something about the way you stood there, wet and tired and wringing your hands like a little child, made him want to pull you into a hug until you were happy again. But it wouldnât have been right, not while you were tired and vulnerable like that. Instead, Suga held out the folded clothes and towels to you.
âThe bathroomâs right there,â he nodded to the door, âyou can change in there. You can even take a shower, if you want to. To warm up.â
He smiled at you reassuringly, the way he did when he tried to calm down a scared child, and you just nodded quickly and headed for the door he had pointed out.
âOh, hey,â he called, just as you were about to close the door behind you. âWhat do you want to eat? Omelette rice? Fried chicken? Oyakodon?â
You hesitated in the door, turning to look over your shoulder. He could tell how you were thinking and coming to a conclusion but then seemed to reconsider.
âWhat do you want to eat,â you asked instead of giving him a straight answer, which made him internally bang his head against a wall. Why would he ask if he would have wanted to choose?
He took a moment to think about it. Before, you had mentioned wanting to get a chicken dish from the convenience store, and if he remembered correctly, you had once mentioned that you were a bit picky about the consistency of eggs. All in all, that left him with only one good guess.
âI think I want fried chicken,â he decided, and judging by your expression, he had guessed correctly. âSounds good?â
You nodded, finally a small smile tucking at your lips and disappeared into the bathroom.
Suga was left standing in the hallway, wondering if he was dreaming. And worrying whether he had cleaned out the sink after shaving this morning.
After a few seconds he heard you rummaging in the bathroom, though, which at least told him he hadnât daydreamt about having brough you back to his apartment, and as quickly as his confused body would allow, he stumbled back into his bedroom to exchange his damp jeans for some dry ones.
After he had changed, he headed into the small living area. Like he had remembered, the furniture was a little displaced, but other than that, everything was in order. His mother would be proud. The first thing he did was to wash two cups of rice and start the rice cooker. Then he adjusted the floor chairs around the low-set table in the living room and checked his shelves for any pictures or trinkets you didnât necessarily need to see. Noya had been over a few weeks ago, and that clown had the habit of hiding souvenirs in peopleâs apartments, instead of giving them to them directly. Another reason why Suga preferred the Japanese tradition of edible souvenirs. He often didnât notice Noyaâs little jokes until months later, when his brother or parents came to visit and pointed out the middle-finger in the colours of France or the Sphinx with a comically large moustache.
After clearing the shelves, he went to work at cutting some cabbage, and preparing the chicken, while in the bathroom the water was running. Apparently, you had taken him up on the offer of a shower.
He was halfway through breading the chicken pieces, when the door to the bathroom opened and a few moments later you stepped into the kitchen. Your hair, while still damp, seemed to have been sorted out according to your preference, and â
Suga was glad he was standing right by the counter, because when his eyes landed on you in his clothes, he definitely needed something to hold on to, or his knees might have given out. He had been so focused on getting you dry and more comfortable, that long the way he had completely forgotten that you would be wearing his clothes, his shirts would be the one hanging from your shoulders, his laundry detergent would be the one you would smell.
The look on your face though quickly ended what otherwise might have turned into him full on gushing about how cute you looked. Tears were swimming in your eyes, and your fingers were helplessly curling around the hem of your shirt â his shirt⊠the shirt you were wearing.
âHey, hey,â Suga cooed, immediately dropping the chopsticks with which he had handled the chicken, and stepped over to your side. âHey there, whatâs wrong?â
Helplessly he reached out but hesitated to place his hand on your shoulder. Maybe you didnât like being touched. Or at least not by him? When you tilted your head downwards, likely in an attempt to hide your quivering lip from his sight and looked up at him through tear-wet lashes, his body made the decision for him. Carefully he placed a warm hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently.
âCome on, sit down,â he encouraged, and guided you over to the corner that functioned as his living room in the small multi-functional area. With steady hands he led you to one of his two bean bags and pushed you to sit down. Once your back hit the fabric, you dropped as if all energy had left you, and you curled in on yourself. Concerned, Suga dropped into a crouch before you, his hand now settling on your knee, barely noticing the way your soft skin shifted under his palm. But you didnât draw back, just sobbed helplessly and blinked at him from below tears.
âI screwed up my teaching demonstration today,â you whimpered, and the sound alone threatened to drive tears into Sugaâs eyes.
Quickly he shook his head, reaching out for your elbow, trying to somehow comfort you, trying to show you that things certainly werenât as bad as you thought they were right now.
âNo, no, come on,â he shook his head again, trying to catch your eyes as you tried burying your face against the green fabric of the bean bag. âThese teaching demonstrations in your last year- theyâre a mere formality, they donât matter.â
âI know they usually donât, but- but they do, when theyâre bad. And today was bad bad.â
Suga froze. He knew you to be a kind and enthusiastic soul, your passion for the lively dance you taught in the afternoons having bled into your whole personality, or maybe the other way around. And no matter how easily you got engaged and enthusiastic about things, you still were rational and knew how to properly evaluate things, which was why the children loved you: You were cheerful enough to be approachable and relatable, but distant and rational enough to earn their respect and make them feel safe and protected. So, when you said things were badâŠ
âIâm sure it wasnât as bad as you think it was,â Suga tried to comfort you, running his hands in tiny stroked up and down your arms. âThings like that always seem worse right after. Especially at night, especially when its dark and raining and cold.â
âYou donât understand,â you denied. âYou werenât there. It was bad, Sugawara-san. It was bad.â
Suga wanted to scold you for the honorific you had used. Countless times he had told you to just call him Suga, like all his friends, or at least Sugawara, without the -san, like the other teachers. But somehow it seemed impossible for you to take that one step closer to him. Maybe he should just give up all hope of ever getting you to see him as anything other than a colleague. And that was what he had to be right now. A colleague, a senpai, someone who understood, and listened, and comforted. Yes, that he could be.
âWhat was so bad about it? I know you were well prepared-â Suga thought back to the weeks where you had still been brooding over your desk when he was already leaving the school, and he was always staying late as well, which meant you were staying even later. âYou are a good teacher, the kids love you, you have a great sense of what they need, Iâd go as far as to say youâre like made for this job. What could possibly have been so bad that youâre so worried now?â
You took a shaky breath and lifted your head to look at him, your eyes red from crying, your lip swollen from where you had bit down on it to stop the quivering.
âIt was pure chaos,â you confessed.
Attentively Suga tilted his head at you. âSecond graders are always chaos,â he tried neutralizing your statement.
âNot like that, not like- it started fine. And I mean, I did have a plan, too. I also had a backup plan, and a backup for the backup. I even had a backup for the backup of the backup! Things were fine, and then suddenly little Kawami raised her hand and said she didnât feel so good, so I walked over and-â you sighed and rubbed your eyes. Clearly it was helping you to talk about what had happened. âAnd she threw up all over my trousers.â
Suga couldnât help the grimace that tucked at his face. Throwing up wasnât unusual, not in elementary school, as he had learnt quickly in his firsts months. Most of the times it wasnât even because the children were sick, sometimes they had just eaten too much, or too fast, or they had run to much, or spun in circles too much, or had done one too many handstands during their breaks. And yes, he too had been at the receiving end of getting thrown up upon a few times, and he doubted it wouldnât happen again, but at least it had never happened during a teaching demonstration.
You barely seemed to pick up on Sugaâs sympathy, because you already kept talking. Clearly getting covered in a pupilâs puke was not the worst part of the story.
âSo, Iâm standing there with my clothes ruined, and little Kawami starts crying because sheâs embarrassed about it, and then the whole class started panicking because she had thrown up and-â You inhaled deeply and shook your head. âI did my best to calm them down and asked two of her friends to get her to the nurseâs office so she can get checked up on and call her parents.â
Suga nodded to himself. It was school policy that if there was a sick child, there were always two kids who had to go with them to the nurse.
âThen I called the janitor, but until he got there, I tasked the kids to get me cleaning supplies and tried to make the best of the situation by explaining to them that these things can happen easily but itâs no problem as long as you clean up properly, and I showed them how. Of course that was a whole ordeal, and they were standing a safe distance away, so they wouldnât have to smell it and wouldnât get sick or something. And when the janitor came, I took the class outside and told Nakahiro-san that I was going to ask Hina to take the class in while I change-â
Suga kept nodding and humming in approval, but his heart sank as you mentioned Nakahiro. He knew you had followed procedure, made sure the kids were looked after and taken care of every moment, but he had his fair share of experience with Nakahiro himself. She was one of the worst examiners he had ever had. Luckily, she didnât give out grades, only told you if you had passed or not, and that not directly after the class, but only about a week later. He remembered her sharp black eyes making a shiver run down his spine every time she had stepped into his classroom. He had almost forgotten about her already, having banished these scaring memories from his mind, until you mentioned her name. It was really unfortunate that this ordeal had happened today, during the teaching demonstration, but he was sure you would have laughed it off, hadnât it been for Nakahiro.
âAnd when the class was over,â you sighed; your tears had almost dried by now, but the memory made fresh ones glisten in your eyes, âwhen the class was over, Nakahiro-san came up to me and told me that I looked very stressed- she really said: âYou look rather worn out today, donât you. Perhaps it is time to reconsider your choice of occupation, before itâs too late. You still have many opportunities in life.â She really said that!â
Suga could feel the blood draining from his face and hands and pooling into a deep and dark lump of hatred in his chest. How did you have to feel about that, the moment you had been told these words? Even he felt his knees go week at your retelling, could feel the panic that closed its cold hand around his heart. Unable to take the news, Suga scrambled to his feet and began pacing.
âWhat was that woman thinking,â he fumed, not proud of the way his voice rose in anger. âYou were helping a sick child, keeping the class under control, doing damage control! What does she expect you to do? Snap your fingers and everything is clean and sanitized and whatever? Iâm sure the last time she worked with children, was when they were still writing in ancient Chinese!â
Suga threw his hands up in exasperation before propping them into his sides and turned to look at you. You still sat in the bean bag, knees pulled up to your chest, but the way you watched him now was a mix of amusement and gratefulness.
âDid you answer anything,â he asked, secretly torn between hoping you had tried to stand up for yourself and hoping you had been an obedient little student as the system expected you to be.
âI told her I was sorry she perceived me this way, but that working with children and teaching them has always been my dream and I will make it true one way or another, no matter how many children throw up on me.â
Suga stared at you for a moment, then chuckled. âGood for you,â he agreed. âThat was the right response.â He really didnât know if it was, but at least you didnât have to blame yourself for not speaking your mind.
The conversation was interrupted by the beeping of the rice cooker, signalling it was finished cooking and was switching to keeping the rice warm.
âOh, the food,â Suga remembered, looking over to the counter where the chicken was still only half breaded.
âDo you want me to help,â you offered at once, and when Suga nodded, you followed him across the room into the small kitchen.
Working together was a lot quicker than alone. You finished breading the meat, while Suga heated up oil and began frying the pieces of chicken. It didnât take long, and a few minutes later, you settled down around his floor-height table, each a plate of rice, cabbage-salad and fried chicken in front of you.
As you were eating the conversation died down considerably, but Suga couldnât help glancing over at you. The number of times you had eaten together, really eaten, not just stood on the playground while nibbling on an onigiri, could be counted on ten fingers. It had usually been times after school festivals in summer or at the end of a semester that the teachers went out for dinner together, but even during those times, he had never sat anywhere close to you.
Now you were sitting right opposite him, his t-shirt hanging down from your shoulders, while you scooped rice into your mouth. Tear streaks were drying along your cheeks, and the crying had definitely not helped with your red eyes, but no matter how pitiful you looked, Suga couldnât get over how adorable you were, sitting here in his living room, eating the food you had made together.
He wished there were more he could do for you, than just get mad at a person who wasnât even present. If he were your boyfriend, he could hug you, pet your hair, brush your tears away and wrap you in a warm blanket. But he wasnât which meant the time here, in this little island of light in the dark, rainy night that lingered beyond these walls, was limited, and short. He wished he might drag this whole thing out, could make time stop, could ask you to sleep over. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought that you would have to go back out there into the cold and drive all the way home by yourself. And then youâd sit at home, alone, on your own little island of light, and youâd possibly go over tests, or watch some show or movie on tv, or worst of all, would beat yourself up over today, without anyone there to hold you and tell you things would be fine. No, the thought was torturous. He couldnât allow that.
âIs something wrong?â
Your innocent question pulled Suga out of the maelstrom that were his thoughts.
âItâs just- you look tense,â you added, sending him a timid half-smile.
âOh, no, Iâm- Iâm okay,â he quickly replied, âJust thinking. Do you have anyone to keep you company tonight? It feels like one of those nights, where one wouldnât want to be alone.â
You looked at him for a moment, and he wished he could read your thoughts.
âIâll be fine,â you assured him, but your voice sounded thinner than he liked. âIâll go home, take a proper shower and then go to sleep. I have dance practice with my team tomorrow morning.â
Suga nodded, but before he could stop himself, he kept talking anyway. âIf you like you can stay over. You donât have to be alone tonight, you know?â
The moment he had made the offer, he knew he had made a mistake. For a moment you looked at him with wide eyes, and then a mask slipped on. Suga knew that mask very well. He had one too, as did basically everyone he knew, except maybe for Hinata and Kageyama. It was the same mask you put on in front of teachers and bosses, in front of customers during your parttime-job, or old ladies at the bus stop.
Your mask came in company of a soft smile and a gentle head-tilt.
âThank you for the offer,â you replied politely, âbut I have to get up early tomorrow. I wouldnât want to disturb you.â
Suga wanted to tell you that it was fine, that he wouldnât mind, but he also knew the practice with your dance team was a weak excuse. Training never started before 10am, which would leave plenty of time to get up, have breakfast, drive home to get your training clothes and get refreshed and then go to practice. But it was an excuse, the polite way of saying: I donât want to. He didnât know why. Shouldnât you know better than to assume you were a burden on him? It would be his greatest honour to make sure you were taken good care of! Heâd let you sleep in his bed and arrange a futon for himself in the living room, and tomorrow morning heâd make breakfast with omelette and rice and miso soup and fried fish and a cup of freshly brewed green tea. But no, he wouldnât, because you had turned down his offer in a manner that would make him seem rude if he tried pressing the matter. Why had you turned him down? What did you think would happen if-
Oh.
Oh no.
Were you assuming he had meant the invitation as a roundabout way of asking to sleep with you? How could he have been so stupid! Of course that was what you had to assume he wanted. You didnât know he cared for you. And most other men he his age probably wouldnât have offered you such an invitation without thinking about taking you to bed in a more heated way than what he had had in mind.
He could feel his ears starting to burn again from, from the embarrassment of having been turned down, the shame of what you probably thought about him now, but also from knowing that even if this was what you really thought about him, you wouldnât be too far off. He had thought about you that way, but he would never use a time of hurt and vulnerability as you were experiencing right now to get there. What he wanted was connection and that didnât necessarily have to be physical. But it was too late now. He was pretty sure, he had ruined any chance of meaningful connection with you, by asking this stupid, stupid question.
âOh, okay,â Suga nodded, and swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldnât bare meeting your eyes. âI understand that.â
As if that had been your cue, you scooted away from the table and picked up your plate.
âItâs getting late,â you stated, even though Suga was sure it was barely past 8pm. âLet me help you clean up.â
Before he could protest, you had already picked up his plate as well and carried them to the kitchen sink.
âItâs no problem, really, please,â Suga scrambled after you, catching your hand just as you were about to turn on the water. âIâll just throw this in the dishwasher later.â Oh wow, he felt so grown up saying that. His dishwasher. Internally he rolled his eyes.
âYou already did so much for me,â you disagreed, and the way you said it made a shiver run down Sugaâs spine. It was like you didnât want to owe him any favours, as if you were scared, heâd ask something in return that you didnât want to give. He felt sick at the idea. So, he said the only thing that was right in this situation. âThis situationâ of course meaning that you had made it obvious he didnât have a chance at winning your trust, or dare he even think it, your feelings, your love. Instead, the situation was once again reduced to a mere formality: A senpai and a kohai.
âOf course, I looked after you,â he replied, praying his voice was steadier than his hands, than his wobbly knees. âIâm your senpai, of course I made sure youâre alright. You owe me nothing.â
Only at that did your hand let go of the lever of the tab, and Suga couldnât help the way his shoulders sacked. So, this was it, the end of his street of hope, hm? He had told Daichi from the beginning on, that it was a dead end, but Daichi was the one who insisted he should at least try. Well, here he was now. Tried and failed.
âThank you,â you mumbled, but your eyes not meeting his. âFor everything.â
âDonât mention it,â Suga replied almost automatically.
âIâll go now.â
He just nodded.
âCan I give you back your clothes on Monday? Iâll wash them, tooâŠâ
Suga wanted to ask you not to return them. Or at least not to wash them when you did, so that he could live in the illusion that he could cling onto you just a little longer. Of course that wasnât what he answered though.
âItâs fine, Monday, Friday, take your time.â
You thanked him again, and scooted past him, making sure not to brush against him. Suga swore you had to hear the âcrackâ of his heart breaking. Quietly he followed you into the hallway, where you slipped your shoes back on in the genkan. Your wet clothes were folded into a neat pile next to them.
âThank you again for everything, Sugawara-san,â you say and bowed a little, very formally. âIâm really feeling a lot better now.â
Suga doubted that. How could you feel better after your colleague and senpai just said something that made him seem like a perverted little freak who just tried to make you let down your guard around him? Didnât you feel nauseous and sick, too? Didnât you feel awkward about the offer he had made you, one you had no other sane choice than to turn down? Suga wished, you had never slowed down your car to pick him up from the side of the street.
âYouâre very welcome,â he said instead and returned your formal gesture with a small bow of his own. Who was wearing their mask now, hm? Hypocrite.
âSee you on Monday,â you told him and picked up your clothes under one arm, using the other hand to open the door.
âTill Monday,â Suga replied and he couldnât help how dead his voice sounded.
A moment later, the door fell closed behind your back and Suga was left standing in the corridor, all by himself. He kept standing there for a few more minutes, thinking of nothing in particular, only letting the static that had taken over his brain, rattle on.
When he snapped back, he went first into the kitchen to clean up and then to the bathroom. The towels he had given you were folded neatly and laying on top of his washing machine. If the evening had gone any different, they might not have been the last thing he had left that smelled of you. Quickly he threw them into the laundry machine, alongside the T-shirts and a pair of jeans he had meant to wash this morning before leaving the house. Instead, it was only now that he threw in some detergent and quickly turned it on. The timer showed he had a little more than an hour left before the program was finished, so he used the time to call up Daichi and update him on everything that happened.
No matter how many times Daichi assured him, he did nothing wrong, Suga still blamed himself for the way things went, worst of all that you were probably sitting all alone now, feeling awful not only about that teaching demonstration, but also about what a perverted colleague you had. By the time the conversation with Daichi was sizzling out, Suga had already loaded the laundry into the dryer and turned it on. It would drone on for another hour or so, probably finishing a few minutes before the mandated quiet hours of the building. Usually, Suga would avoid getting so close to the time, but tonight he couldnât be bothered. As he lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, he wondered if there was ever a way to reconcile with you, if there was a way, you could ever trust him again. He wasnât sure.
đ„ș unfortunately I'm at this annoying point, where one thing gets better and then in order for something else to get better it has to get worse first. And it's really damn frustrating, to see that valley coming up in the distance. But for now, I'm gonna concentrate on my presentation on Monday and the one on Wednesday (this is the one stressing me out rn).
But at least I had a good morning, going to the local fair / beer festival with my mum! I know, I could have studied in that time, but I deserved a break! And I was looking forward to that the whole year already (it's our annual tradition, doing the rides we like, getting something to eat and drink and going home before all the other people come crowding in).
Thank you for your sweet messages. They're really cheering me up đ I hope you're doing good yourself?
A Thought Too Soft (1/2) - Sugawara KĆshi x Reader
Pairing: Sugawara KĆshi x Reader (can be read as any gender, no pronouns used)
Era: post!timeskip
Genre: angst (Part One) / fluff (Part Two)
Word Count: 7 559
Warnings: no use of (y/n), mentions of throwing up, food consumption (also meat), Suga and reader are coworkers, reader is training to become a teacher and coaching the school yosakoi dance group, mention of sex (nothing explicit, you know me),
Summary: You picked up your colleague Suga at the side of the street, but it seemed like you needed him more than the other way around.
A/N: Very self-indulgent. Part Two is shameless advertisement for my favourite dance in the world (which you most likely have never heard of)
Haiykuu!! Masterlist | Blog Masterlist
Rain is thrumming down on Sugaâs umbrella, an even rhythm of heavy drops, beating steadily against the plastic that is shielding him from the cool early-summer rain. Or at least shielding his upper half. The lower is drenched already, but not even the uncomfortable feeling of the heavy fabric sticking to his chilled skin is able to dampen his mood. Not when all that is replaying in his mind are pictures of you from the day.
As he braves on, through the night, along the side of the mountain street, he thinks back to all the little glances he got of you that day, how you came into the teachersâ room this morning with a tray full of cookies and how you made sure everyone got one, even going as far as bringing the tray over to where Suga was stressing out about the volleyball practice that afternoon. He remembered the way you had explained to him that you had a tendency to bake when you were nervous, and with one of your teaching demonstrations coming up â an important step of becoming a proper teacher â you had spent the night baking, since sleep had refused itself to you. Suga had wished he could reach out and take your hand, assure you that you would ace your class, that there was nothing to worry about, but considering he was your senior, even if just by two years, and that you were in a professional setting with numerous other teachers around, he had been able to do little more than wish you good luck.
A particularly strong gush of wind tore at his umbrella, and Suga quickly tiled it, so the plastic wouldnât get ripped out of his hands, in return being rewarded with a fair amount of rain hitting him straight into the face. He shushed the cold away with other moments of having seen your face during the day. When he had waited in front of his own classroom and he had seen you compliment a little girl for the picture, she had drawn for you before coming into school that morning. Or the precious few minutes during the first break, where he had watched you over the rim of his teacup, as you had helped a kid tie their shoe lace. Then of course there was the big break, where you had playground watch alongside him, the way you kept tucking at your hair nervously trying to push the thought of the upcoming teaching demonstration out of your mind, having forever burnt itself into his mind.
He had ended up not seeing you for the rest of the day, until the evening, where he had come out of the gym after volleyball practice with the elementary school club, and you had seemed to bid good bye to some students and their parents, after what he assumed to have been dance club practice. He had noticed you wore different trousers and shoes that were neither sport shoes nor your usual style, but he hadnât thought much of it, far more concentrating on the way you repeated the dance clubs motto back at the enthusiastic child and bowed politely to the mother, who complemented your patience with the children. After that, he had been forced to tear himself away from the sight, and instead had turned back towards his classroom, where he had left todays tests on his desk. He usually preferred working at the school, but for once he decided to take the work home.
And that was how he found himself walking the mountain street in pouring rain, a little melancholic that he had no excuse to see you over the weekend. No volleyball tournament which you usually attended for moral support of the students, no dance festival where he could claim to turn up just for the childrenâs sake, no school festival either, not even a parent-teacher-evening or any other activities. Not this weekend at least. But he was already looking forward to next weekend, to the townâs annual river festival. Certainly, heâd find a suitable moment to bump into you there.
Suga sighed and brushed some of his grey hair out his forehead. He remembered what all his friends had told him: if he never made a move on you, heâd never know if he might have a chance. But how was he supposed to do that? You were coworkers! And even though it was as good as decided that you would start working officially at this school once you had passed all exams, heâd still be above you in hierarchy. It would be wrong to try anything, because he didnât want you to agree to anything just because you felt like you had to, because he outranked you!
Absentmindedly he stepped over a frog that was hopping right between his feet, surprised when suddenly the headlights of a car caught him from behind. Making sure to walk as far on the left side of the pavement as possible, he stopped walking, more a signal to the driver that he was being careful than anything else, when the car began slowing down. Blinking against the headlights, Suga wondered who would slow down their car in the pouring rain next to a stranger, just before he recognised the familiar shape and colour of your car. Irritated he blinked as you came to a stop beside him and scrolled down the window. Suga could have sworn you had left the school before him, and usually you came by bike, too, not the car. Still, he stepped closer.
âNeed a ride?â
You were leaning over to the window, trying to get a look at his face in the dark.
âReally?â Suga could hide neither the excitement nor the surprise at the offer. âI donât want to cause you any inconvenience.â
Still, he stepped closer and leant down to the window, angling his umbrella so it wouldnât rain into your car.
âYour houseâs on the way,â you shrugged, your voice unusually flat and devoid of any of your usual enthusiasm or kindness. Just a simple statement.
Now that he was closer, Suga could spot the dark circles under your eyes and- had you cried? Your eyes looked unusually puffy and red. His heart did a painful tuck in his chest at the realisation that you werenât doing too well but still had extended the offer of driving him home, so he quickly nodded.
âThat would be amazing,â he agreed, and hastily pulled open the passenger door, making sure to shake out his umbrella and slipped into your car.
âYou can put your bag in the backâ, you offered while you scrolled the window back up, keeping the rain out.
Warm air conditioning air blew against Sugaâs skin, as he twisted to position his messenger bag and his umbrella behind his seat on the floor. He couldnât help the way his heart was beating so fast; it was the first time he was in your car, and it felt like he had just been invited to invade a part of your privacy without having been given instructions on how to handle this honour. The air in the car smelled like car seats and plastic, no air freshener, no perfume, nothing. Completely neutral, although your car was old, inherited from your granddad after he had given up on driving due to age, at least that was what you had told Suga. He had always imagined you might use some kind of air refresher, like all his friends did. Not the flowery kind, necessarily, more something along the lines of âfresh linenâ or âocean breezeâ, or whatever they were called.
When he twisted back around to the front, he found you were watching him patiently. You really did look tired. And wet. Why were you wet? Hadnât you been driving in the car? But your hair was almost dripping, and your shirt clung to your skin, soaked with water. In the dark it was hard to tell, but Suga assumed, your pants werenât off much better â he glanced down, noticing you still wore the pants he had seen you in after practice, not the ones you had worn this morning.
âSeatbelt,â you instructed, raising your eyebrows a little, as if you were disappointed, he had spaced out.
âOh, right, sorry,â Suga chuckled apologetically, and quickly clipped the buckle shut.
Without another word you set your blinker to signal you were about to pull back into the street fully, as if there was any other car on this lonely mountain road. Suga watched you accelerate to speed again, not as fast as was allowed, instead a secure speed considering the weather, before you suddenly spoke up.
âYou can put on music, if you like,â you offered, nodding towards the old fashioned radio, which seemed to have been equipped to catch Bluetooth signals.
âOh, okay,â Suga nodded, and pulled out his mobile, fiddling around with the radio and finally setting up a connection. It felt like he was under an enormous amount of pressure as he scrolled through his playlists, as if his entire future and whether he might have a chance with you or not depended on what kind of music he chose now. After a few seconds of hesitation, he settled on a pre-curated playlist of anime-movie soundtracks. You didnât seem to have any special kind of reaction to the music, that suddenly began bleeding from the speaker, adding to the sound of the motor and the drumming rain.
After a few moments of silence, only interrupted by the familiar voice of Radwimpsâs lead singer, Suga carefully spoke up.
âHow was the rest of your day?â
Your eyes stayed fixed on the road as you answered.
âGood,â but it didnât escape Sugaâs notice, that your fingers tightened around the steering wheel. âYou?â
Suga considered you for a moment longer. It was obvious that the rest of your day had not been good, but also that you didnât want to talk about it. And he wouldnât force you to. So, what could he do instead?
âAhhh, you know my class,â he sighed, making a big gesture out of relaxing deeper into the seat, so you could even see it from the corner of your eyes. âThe little rascals started throwing dust at each other after lunch break and I had to get them changed into their sports uniforms before sending them off to their respective clubs.â He chuckled at the memory of a group of five boys returning to the classroom, their black hair dusted over beige from the dirt in the playground. âAnd practice was good, as always. We have a practice match next Wednesday, so everyone is putting in extra effort already.â
You hummed, the only sign that you listened, and slowed down at an intersection. In the rain and dark, the view was bad, but the night beyond the car windows stayed undisturbed, no other car heading your way. Slowly, you turned right, continuing the way towards the village where Suga was living. He would have preferred a place closer to the school, but rent was cheaper out here, and as long as he was still in the early stages of his career, he preferred saving money over a shorter commute.
âHow did you end up on that street there anyway,â you suddenly asked, making Suga perk up. You glanced over to him quickly, before focusing back on the road, but it was enough to make the tips of his ears burn.
âOh, Yamame-san took me along in the morning. But his daughterâs school called him away right after lunch â apparently, she got sick â so I had to walk back.â
Again, you hummed, not continuing the conversation in any meaningful way, and Sugaâs eyes searched the dark outside the car. Oh, you were already at the bridge, he realised. Even though you had driven slowly, the time had passed far too quickly for his liking, even when there was a lot of awkward silence spreading out.
âHave you had dinner yet,â Suga suddenly asked when his stomach started aching in the familiar way that signalled him that his last meal had been far too long ago.
âNo,â you answered in one syllable, âyou?â
âMe neitherâŠâ Suga trailed off.
Would you think it was inappropriate if he asked you to stay at his place for dinner? He had some eggs in the fridge, and some chicken thighs. Maybe he could make Omelette rice for you, or Oyakodon, or fried chicken? Was that too straight forward to offer? He had to decide quickly, you would reach his village in a few minutes.
âWhat are you gonna have for dinner,â he asked instead.
Beside him, you shrugged. âIâm not sure really. I was thinking Iâd eat out today, to celebrate but-â You interrupted yourself, swallowed, and rearranged your thoughts before continuing. âI think I might drop by 7-Eleven. I think they have a new chicken dish that I meant to try out. Maybe they have some left.â
Suga couldnât help the frown that pulled at his brows. Why wouldnât you go out to celebrate? He assumed the teaching demonstration had been the occasion for the celebration, but why wouldnât you allow yourself that joy? Sure, you had been nervous beforehand, but considering how far along you were in your journey to becoming a teacher, it was more formality at this point than anything. There was no way you had screwed it up badly enough to deny yourself the joy of eating out! But he settled for keeping quiet about it, mulling over the rest of your response in his head. It didnât sit right with him, the image of you grabbing a pre-packaged box of some cold chicken and rice from the open fridge and having it heated up by the convenience store staff, or even taking it home to heat it up there and eat all by yourself, maybe in front of the TV. Sure, it was a nice treat, to do that when you werenât in the mood to cook. But considering your overall behaviour, Suga doubted youâd be able to enjoy it.
âHey,â he started, hoping his voice sounded like he had just thought of the idea, not like he had tried to banish it from his mind for the past minutes. âWhy donât you let me cook for you? I always make too much to eat alone anyway. I can make Omelette rice, or fried chicken if you like?â
He cringed at the eagerness in his voice and hoped the light that reached the inside of the car was low enough to hide his burning red ears. Next to him, your fingers tightened around the steering wheel again, before they relaxed a little.
âAre you sure,â you asked carefully, hitting the brakes as you slowed down at the entrance to the village. He had asked just in time.
âAbsolutely! Itâs the least I can do, after you let me drip all over your car seat!â Suga almost couldnât believe his luck, that you hadnât turned him down immediately.
âI- Iâd love that,â you hesitantly agreed, shooting him another glance. âSorry, I forgot which wayâŠâ
âOh, the second street on the left,â Suga quickly helped you out, pointing ahead of the car, âright before the Lawson there.â
You followed his instruction and turned into a smaller street, slowing down further. The dark and the rain made it difficult to see where the street ended and the channels that ran beside it began. Meanwhile Suga was silently panicking about what state he had left his apartment in. Yesterday he had vacuumed, so perhaps a few pieces of furniture were still out of place, but at least that meant that it was clean and there was no dirty laundry laying around anywhere.
âOh, the next right, and then youâre already in my street,â Suga quickly tore out of his thoughts, and pointed ahead again.
A few moments later you had recognised his building and pulled into one of the parking spots in front of it.
It was still pouring as you turned off the motor, and Suga quickly fished his bag and umbrella from the backseat and jumped out of the car, racing over to your side, so he had the umbrella ready for you. You smiled at him gratefully as he opened it over your head, and only when you had locked the car, did he realise how close you had to walk next to him in order to stay dry. It made his heart jump and dance inside his chest, and he wished he had further to walk then the two meters from the car and then up the stairs.
Hurriedly he unlocked the front door and turned on the light, before he ushered you inside. You mumbled the traditional greeting as you stepped over the threshold and toed off your shoes in the genkan.
âGive me your jacket,â he offered, holding out his right hand, the left already holding onto a coat hanger for your cardigan.
While you peeled of the still wet fabric, he had time to get a closer look at you. Just as he had suspected before, you were completely wet by the rain, your eyes red-rimmed and puffy and in the bright light of the hallway you looked even more tired than he had guessed.
âYouâre completely wet,â he muttered, concern thick in his voice, as you handed him your cardigan.
âSorry,â you apologized quietly, but he shook his head.
âNo, no, thatâs not- thatâs not- I just⊠do you want something dry to change into? I have some shorts and a shirt that will definitely fit you!â
âI donât want to cause you any trouble-â
âYou wouldnât! Wait here!â
Quickly Suga hung up your cardigan and patted down the short hallway into the bedroom, his socked feet slapping heavily on the wooden floor. In his wardrobe he quickly found what he had been looking for: A freshly washed pair of comfortable shorts that he usually wore to the gym, and a t-shirt Daichi had made him buy when they had gone to cheer on Karasuno as they had made it into the Volleyball Nationals for the second time in three years. On his way back out of the room he also grabbed two towels and hurried back into the hallway, where you still stood rooted in spot, right where he had left you. Something about the way you stood there, wet and tired and wringing your hands like a little child, made him want to pull you into a hug until you were happy again. But it wouldnât have been right, not while you were tired and vulnerable like that. Instead, Suga held out the folded clothes and towels to you.
âThe bathroomâs right there,â he nodded to the door, âyou can change in there. You can even take a shower, if you want to. To warm up.â
He smiled at you reassuringly, the way he did when he tried to calm down a scared child, and you just nodded quickly and headed for the door he had pointed out.
âOh, hey,â he called, just as you were about to close the door behind you. âWhat do you want to eat? Omelette rice? Fried chicken? Oyakodon?â
You hesitated in the door, turning to look over your shoulder. He could tell how you were thinking and coming to a conclusion but then seemed to reconsider.
âWhat do you want to eat,â you asked instead of giving him a straight answer, which made him internally bang his head against a wall. Why would he ask if he would have wanted to choose?
He took a moment to think about it. Before, you had mentioned wanting to get a chicken dish from the convenience store, and if he remembered correctly, you had once mentioned that you were a bit picky about the consistency of eggs. All in all, that left him with only one good guess.
âI think I want fried chicken,â he decided, and judging by your expression, he had guessed correctly. âSounds good?â
You nodded, finally a small smile tucking at your lips and disappeared into the bathroom.
Suga was left standing in the hallway, wondering if he was dreaming. And worrying whether he had cleaned out the sink after shaving this morning.
After a few seconds he heard you rummaging in the bathroom, though, which at least told him he hadnât daydreamt about having brough you back to his apartment, and as quickly as his confused body would allow, he stumbled back into his bedroom to exchange his damp jeans for some dry ones.
After he had changed, he headed into the small living area. Like he had remembered, the furniture was a little displaced, but other than that, everything was in order. His mother would be proud. The first thing he did was to wash two cups of rice and start the rice cooker. Then he adjusted the floor chairs around the low-set table in the living room and checked his shelves for any pictures or trinkets you didnât necessarily need to see. Noya had been over a few weeks ago, and that clown had the habit of hiding souvenirs in peopleâs apartments, instead of giving them to them directly. Another reason why Suga preferred the Japanese tradition of edible souvenirs. He often didnât notice Noyaâs little jokes until months later, when his brother or parents came to visit and pointed out the middle-finger in the colours of France or the Sphinx with a comically large moustache.
After clearing the shelves, he went to work at cutting some cabbage, and preparing the chicken, while in the bathroom the water was running. Apparently, you had taken him up on the offer of a shower.
He was halfway through breading the chicken pieces, when the door to the bathroom opened and a few moments later you stepped into the kitchen. Your hair, while still damp, seemed to have been sorted out according to your preference, and â
Suga was glad he was standing right by the counter, because when his eyes landed on you in his clothes, he definitely needed something to hold on to, or his knees might have given out. He had been so focused on getting you dry and more comfortable, that long the way he had completely forgotten that you would be wearing his clothes, his shirts would be the one hanging from your shoulders, his laundry detergent would be the one you would smell.
The look on your face though quickly ended what otherwise might have turned into him full on gushing about how cute you looked. Tears were swimming in your eyes, and your fingers were helplessly curling around the hem of your shirt â his shirt⊠the shirt you were wearing.
âHey, hey,â Suga cooed, immediately dropping the chopsticks with which he had handled the chicken, and stepped over to your side. âHey there, whatâs wrong?â
Helplessly he reached out but hesitated to place his hand on your shoulder. Maybe you didnât like being touched. Or at least not by him? When you tilted your head downwards, likely in an attempt to hide your quivering lip from his sight and looked up at him through tear-wet lashes, his body made the decision for him. Carefully he placed a warm hand on your shoulder and squeezed gently.
âCome on, sit down,â he encouraged, and guided you over to the corner that functioned as his living room in the small multi-functional area. With steady hands he led you to one of his two bean bags and pushed you to sit down. Once your back hit the fabric, you dropped as if all energy had left you, and you curled in on yourself. Concerned, Suga dropped into a crouch before you, his hand now settling on your knee, barely noticing the way your soft skin shifted under his palm. But you didnât draw back, just sobbed helplessly and blinked at him from below tears.
âI screwed up my teaching demonstration today,â you whimpered, and the sound alone threatened to drive tears into Sugaâs eyes.
Quickly he shook his head, reaching out for your elbow, trying to somehow comfort you, trying to show you that things certainly werenât as bad as you thought they were right now.
âNo, no, come on,â he shook his head again, trying to catch your eyes as you tried burying your face against the green fabric of the bean bag. âThese teaching demonstrations in your last year- theyâre a mere formality, they donât matter.â
âI know they usually donât, but- but they do, when theyâre bad. And today was bad bad.â
Suga froze. He knew you to be a kind and enthusiastic soul, your passion for the lively dance you taught in the afternoons having bled into your whole personality, or maybe the other way around. And no matter how easily you got engaged and enthusiastic about things, you still were rational and knew how to properly evaluate things, which was why the children loved you: You were cheerful enough to be approachable and relatable, but distant and rational enough to earn their respect and make them feel safe and protected. So, when you said things were badâŠ
âIâm sure it wasnât as bad as you think it was,â Suga tried to comfort you, running his hands in tiny stroked up and down your arms. âThings like that always seem worse right after. Especially at night, especially when its dark and raining and cold.â
âYou donât understand,â you denied. âYou werenât there. It was bad, Sugawara-san. It was bad.â
Suga wanted to scold you for the honorific you had used. Countless times he had told you to just call him Suga, like all his friends, or at least Sugawara, without the -san, like the other teachers. But somehow it seemed impossible for you to take that one step closer to him. Maybe he should just give up all hope of ever getting you to see him as anything other than a colleague. And that was what he had to be right now. A colleague, a senpai, someone who understood, and listened, and comforted. Yes, that he could be.
âWhat was so bad about it? I know you were well prepared-â Suga thought back to the weeks where you had still been brooding over your desk when he was already leaving the school, and he was always staying late as well, which meant you were staying even later. âYou are a good teacher, the kids love you, you have a great sense of what they need, Iâd go as far as to say youâre like made for this job. What could possibly have been so bad that youâre so worried now?â
You took a shaky breath and lifted your head to look at him, your eyes red from crying, your lip swollen from where you had bit down on it to stop the quivering.
âIt was pure chaos,â you confessed.
Attentively Suga tilted his head at you. âSecond graders are always chaos,â he tried neutralizing your statement.
âNot like that, not like- it started fine. And I mean, I did have a plan, too. I also had a backup plan, and a backup for the backup. I even had a backup for the backup of the backup! Things were fine, and then suddenly little Kawami raised her hand and said she didnât feel so good, so I walked over and-â you sighed and rubbed your eyes. Clearly it was helping you to talk about what had happened. âAnd she threw up all over my trousers.â
Suga couldnât help the grimace that tucked at his face. Throwing up wasnât unusual, not in elementary school, as he had learnt quickly in his firsts months. Most of the times it wasnât even because the children were sick, sometimes they had just eaten too much, or too fast, or they had run to much, or spun in circles too much, or had done one too many handstands during their breaks. And yes, he too had been at the receiving end of getting thrown up upon a few times, and he doubted it wouldnât happen again, but at least it had never happened during a teaching demonstration.
You barely seemed to pick up on Sugaâs sympathy, because you already kept talking. Clearly getting covered in a pupilâs puke was not the worst part of the story.
âSo, Iâm standing there with my clothes ruined, and little Kawami starts crying because sheâs embarrassed about it, and then the whole class started panicking because she had thrown up and-â You inhaled deeply and shook your head. âI did my best to calm them down and asked two of her friends to get her to the nurseâs office so she can get checked up on and call her parents.â
Suga nodded to himself. It was school policy that if there was a sick child, there were always two kids who had to go with them to the nurse.
âThen I called the janitor, but until he got there, I tasked the kids to get me cleaning supplies and tried to make the best of the situation by explaining to them that these things can happen easily but itâs no problem as long as you clean up properly, and I showed them how. Of course that was a whole ordeal, and they were standing a safe distance away, so they wouldnât have to smell it and wouldnât get sick or something. And when the janitor came, I took the class outside and told Nakahiro-san that I was going to ask Hina to take the class in while I change-â
Suga kept nodding and humming in approval, but his heart sank as you mentioned Nakahiro. He knew you had followed procedure, made sure the kids were looked after and taken care of every moment, but he had his fair share of experience with Nakahiro himself. She was one of the worst examiners he had ever had. Luckily, she didnât give out grades, only told you if you had passed or not, and that not directly after the class, but only about a week later. He remembered her sharp black eyes making a shiver run down his spine every time she had stepped into his classroom. He had almost forgotten about her already, having banished these scaring memories from his mind, until you mentioned her name. It was really unfortunate that this ordeal had happened today, during the teaching demonstration, but he was sure you would have laughed it off, hadnât it been for Nakahiro.
âAnd when the class was over,â you sighed; your tears had almost dried by now, but the memory made fresh ones glisten in your eyes, âwhen the class was over, Nakahiro-san came up to me and told me that I looked very stressed- she really said: âYou look rather worn out today, donât you. Perhaps it is time to reconsider your choice of occupation, before itâs too late. You still have many opportunities in life.â She really said that!â
Suga could feel the blood draining from his face and hands and pooling into a deep and dark lump of hatred in his chest. How did you have to feel about that, the moment you had been told these words? Even he felt his knees go week at your retelling, could feel the panic that closed its cold hand around his heart. Unable to take the news, Suga scrambled to his feet and began pacing.
âWhat was that woman thinking,â he fumed, not proud of the way his voice rose in anger. âYou were helping a sick child, keeping the class under control, doing damage control! What does she expect you to do? Snap your fingers and everything is clean and sanitized and whatever? Iâm sure the last time she worked with children, was when they were still writing in ancient Chinese!â
Suga threw his hands up in exasperation before propping them into his sides and turned to look at you. You still sat in the bean bag, knees pulled up to your chest, but the way you watched him now was a mix of amusement and gratefulness.
âDid you answer anything,â he asked, secretly torn between hoping you had tried to stand up for yourself and hoping you had been an obedient little student as the system expected you to be.
âI told her I was sorry she perceived me this way, but that working with children and teaching them has always been my dream and I will make it true one way or another, no matter how many children throw up on me.â
Suga stared at you for a moment, then chuckled. âGood for you,â he agreed. âThat was the right response.â He really didnât know if it was, but at least you didnât have to blame yourself for not speaking your mind.
The conversation was interrupted by the beeping of the rice cooker, signalling it was finished cooking and was switching to keeping the rice warm.
âOh, the food,â Suga remembered, looking over to the counter where the chicken was still only half breaded.
âDo you want me to help,â you offered at once, and when Suga nodded, you followed him across the room into the small kitchen.
Working together was a lot quicker than alone. You finished breading the meat, while Suga heated up oil and began frying the pieces of chicken. It didnât take long, and a few minutes later, you settled down around his floor-height table, each a plate of rice, cabbage-salad and fried chicken in front of you.
As you were eating the conversation died down considerably, but Suga couldnât help glancing over at you. The number of times you had eaten together, really eaten, not just stood on the playground while nibbling on an onigiri, could be counted on ten fingers. It had usually been times after school festivals in summer or at the end of a semester that the teachers went out for dinner together, but even during those times, he had never sat anywhere close to you.
Now you were sitting right opposite him, his t-shirt hanging down from your shoulders, while you scooped rice into your mouth. Tear streaks were drying along your cheeks, and the crying had definitely not helped with your red eyes, but no matter how pitiful you looked, Suga couldnât get over how adorable you were, sitting here in his living room, eating the food you had made together.
He wished there were more he could do for you, than just get mad at a person who wasnât even present. If he were your boyfriend, he could hug you, pet your hair, brush your tears away and wrap you in a warm blanket. But he wasnât which meant the time here, in this little island of light in the dark, rainy night that lingered beyond these walls, was limited, and short. He wished he might drag this whole thing out, could make time stop, could ask you to sleep over. A shiver ran down his spine at the thought that you would have to go back out there into the cold and drive all the way home by yourself. And then youâd sit at home, alone, on your own little island of light, and youâd possibly go over tests, or watch some show or movie on tv, or worst of all, would beat yourself up over today, without anyone there to hold you and tell you things would be fine. No, the thought was torturous. He couldnât allow that.
âIs something wrong?â
Your innocent question pulled Suga out of the maelstrom that were his thoughts.
âItâs just- you look tense,â you added, sending him a timid half-smile.
âOh, no, Iâm- Iâm okay,â he quickly replied, âJust thinking. Do you have anyone to keep you company tonight? It feels like one of those nights, where one wouldnât want to be alone.â
You looked at him for a moment, and he wished he could read your thoughts.
âIâll be fine,â you assured him, but your voice sounded thinner than he liked. âIâll go home, take a proper shower and then go to sleep. I have dance practice with my team tomorrow morning.â
Suga nodded, but before he could stop himself, he kept talking anyway. âIf you like you can stay over. You donât have to be alone tonight, you know?â
The moment he had made the offer, he knew he had made a mistake. For a moment you looked at him with wide eyes, and then a mask slipped on. Suga knew that mask very well. He had one too, as did basically everyone he knew, except maybe for Hinata and Kageyama. It was the same mask you put on in front of teachers and bosses, in front of customers during your parttime-job, or old ladies at the bus stop.
Your mask came in company of a soft smile and a gentle head-tilt.
âThank you for the offer,â you replied politely, âbut I have to get up early tomorrow. I wouldnât want to disturb you.â
Suga wanted to tell you that it was fine, that he wouldnât mind, but he also knew the practice with your dance team was a weak excuse. Training never started before 10am, which would leave plenty of time to get up, have breakfast, drive home to get your training clothes and get refreshed and then go to practice. But it was an excuse, the polite way of saying: I donât want to. He didnât know why. Shouldnât you know better than to assume you were a burden on him? It would be his greatest honour to make sure you were taken good care of! Heâd let you sleep in his bed and arrange a futon for himself in the living room, and tomorrow morning heâd make breakfast with omelette and rice and miso soup and fried fish and a cup of freshly brewed green tea. But no, he wouldnât, because you had turned down his offer in a manner that would make him seem rude if he tried pressing the matter. Why had you turned him down? What did you think would happen if-
Oh.
Oh no.
Were you assuming he had meant the invitation as a roundabout way of asking to sleep with you? How could he have been so stupid! Of course that was what you had to assume he wanted. You didnât know he cared for you. And most other men he his age probably wouldnât have offered you such an invitation without thinking about taking you to bed in a more heated way than what he had had in mind.
He could feel his ears starting to burn again from, from the embarrassment of having been turned down, the shame of what you probably thought about him now, but also from knowing that even if this was what you really thought about him, you wouldnât be too far off. He had thought about you that way, but he would never use a time of hurt and vulnerability as you were experiencing right now to get there. What he wanted was connection and that didnât necessarily have to be physical. But it was too late now. He was pretty sure, he had ruined any chance of meaningful connection with you, by asking this stupid, stupid question.
âOh, okay,â Suga nodded, and swallowed the lump in his throat. He couldnât bare meeting your eyes. âI understand that.â
As if that had been your cue, you scooted away from the table and picked up your plate.
âItâs getting late,â you stated, even though Suga was sure it was barely past 8pm. âLet me help you clean up.â
Before he could protest, you had already picked up his plate as well and carried them to the kitchen sink.
âItâs no problem, really, please,â Suga scrambled after you, catching your hand just as you were about to turn on the water. âIâll just throw this in the dishwasher later.â Oh wow, he felt so grown up saying that. His dishwasher. Internally he rolled his eyes.
âYou already did so much for me,â you disagreed, and the way you said it made a shiver run down Sugaâs spine. It was like you didnât want to owe him any favours, as if you were scared, heâd ask something in return that you didnât want to give. He felt sick at the idea. So, he said the only thing that was right in this situation. âThis situationâ of course meaning that you had made it obvious he didnât have a chance at winning your trust, or dare he even think it, your feelings, your love. Instead, the situation was once again reduced to a mere formality: A senpai and a kohai.
âOf course, I looked after you,â he replied, praying his voice was steadier than his hands, than his wobbly knees. âIâm your senpai, of course I made sure youâre alright. You owe me nothing.â
Only at that did your hand let go of the lever of the tab, and Suga couldnât help the way his shoulders sacked. So, this was it, the end of his street of hope, hm? He had told Daichi from the beginning on, that it was a dead end, but Daichi was the one who insisted he should at least try. Well, here he was now. Tried and failed.
âThank you,â you mumbled, but your eyes not meeting his. âFor everything.â
âDonât mention it,â Suga replied almost automatically.
âIâll go now.â
He just nodded.
âCan I give you back your clothes on Monday? Iâll wash them, tooâŠâ
Suga wanted to ask you not to return them. Or at least not to wash them when you did, so that he could live in the illusion that he could cling onto you just a little longer. Of course that wasnât what he answered though.
âItâs fine, Monday, Friday, take your time.â
You thanked him again, and scooted past him, making sure not to brush against him. Suga swore you had to hear the âcrackâ of his heart breaking. Quietly he followed you into the hallway, where you slipped your shoes back on in the genkan. Your wet clothes were folded into a neat pile next to them.
âThank you again for everything, Sugawara-san,â you say and bowed a little, very formally. âIâm really feeling a lot better now.â
Suga doubted that. How could you feel better after your colleague and senpai just said something that made him seem like a perverted little freak who just tried to make you let down your guard around him? Didnât you feel nauseous and sick, too? Didnât you feel awkward about the offer he had made you, one you had no other sane choice than to turn down? Suga wished, you had never slowed down your car to pick him up from the side of the street.
âYouâre very welcome,â he said instead and returned your formal gesture with a small bow of his own. Who was wearing their mask now, hm? Hypocrite.
âSee you on Monday,â you told him and picked up your clothes under one arm, using the other hand to open the door.
âTill Monday,â Suga replied and he couldnât help how dead his voice sounded.
A moment later, the door fell closed behind your back and Suga was left standing in the corridor, all by himself. He kept standing there for a few more minutes, thinking of nothing in particular, only letting the static that had taken over his brain, rattle on.
When he snapped back, he went first into the kitchen to clean up and then to the bathroom. The towels he had given you were folded neatly and laying on top of his washing machine. If the evening had gone any different, they might not have been the last thing he had left that smelled of you. Quickly he threw them into the laundry machine, alongside the T-shirts and a pair of jeans he had meant to wash this morning before leaving the house. Instead, it was only now that he threw in some detergent and quickly turned it on. The timer showed he had a little more than an hour left before the program was finished, so he used the time to call up Daichi and update him on everything that happened.
No matter how many times Daichi assured him, he did nothing wrong, Suga still blamed himself for the way things went, worst of all that you were probably sitting all alone now, feeling awful not only about that teaching demonstration, but also about what a perverted colleague you had. By the time the conversation with Daichi was sizzling out, Suga had already loaded the laundry into the dryer and turned it on. It would drone on for another hour or so, probably finishing a few minutes before the mandated quiet hours of the building. Usually, Suga would avoid getting so close to the time, but tonight he couldnât be bothered. As he lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling, he wondered if there was ever a way to reconcile with you, if there was a way, you could ever trust him again. He wasnât sure.
And SuĆ agrees and from the outside it looks like he's really trying to beat Sakura, and consciously he is, but the subconscious part of his that found a home in Furin doesn't allow him to really put all his strength in. And Sakura knows when he wins that it was not because of his own strength but because Suo didn't fight with all he had. When he calls SuĆ out for it on the way home, SuĆ tells him to let it go. Sakura won the fight and SuĆ's coming home with him. And when he smiles, Sakura realises, it's not the fake kind, but a real smile.
