Let me live nine lives with you - Himekawa Aoi x Reader
“Any new players?” You ask Kumiko, offering her a chocolate behind your own back.
She laughs, popping it into her mouth with her back turned to the team. Everyone knows you’re not supposed to eat in the Gym, but you know that a few well-placed sweets will give you all the information you need for the school newsletter.
“Two,” she says, turning back. “Himekawa Aoi and Oshiro Takayuki, both first years, of course.”
“Ah?” You look over. “Who is who?”
“Himekawa is the cute one standing next to the captain. And you can’t miss Takayuki, he’s got the big nose of a foreigner.”
You frown at her comment but file it for later before following her pointed chin.
She’s not wrong. Himekawa is cute. His light brown hair has a reddish tint that makes it look like copper under the bright Gym lights and the soft, almost not there curls frame his large brown eyes as he looks around - until his gaze meets yours and his cheeks turn bright pink.
“Oh,” Kumiko whistles, “so he does notice girls.”
“Why?” You ask, leaning into the wall next to her.
“He did not blush when he talked to me earlier.”
Another comment you file for later. Is she jealous for a reason or just because she likes the attention?
“Hmm,” you say slowly. “I probably look younger than I am. You know how first-years are. Everything older than them is scary.”
Kumiko snorts but looks you over before nodding. “That must be it. Anyways, Himekawa played well in Middle School too, they’re talking about making him a Pinch Server for the Nationals.”
You nod. “How are the nerves of the team?”
Kumiko pulls up her shoulders. “Better,” she defends her boys. “This time we’ll make it all the way to the top.”
“I’m sure of it.” You push yourself up again, nod in the direction of the Coach. “I’ll excuse myself then. You want to read the piece before it gets published as usual?”
“Course. Oh, and before I forget… if you know any first years you could see as a manager, send them over. I need some help over here.”
“Will do,” you tell her, tapping her shoulder lightly as a goodbye. You’re already thinking of someone balancing her out, maybe Azumi from Year 1, Class 3? She’s headstrong and half-Korean too.
-
“Excuse me-” You turn around. The voice is warm, even as anxiety coats the words.
Himekawa’s standing at the door, hands folded in front of his stomach, his eyes flitting through the room.
“I’m looking for…” He hesitates again before he calls out your name.
The rest of the Newspaper Club looks away again, no longer interested.
You get up.
“That’s me.” You could easily invite him in and talk to him here, sitting comfortably at your desk.
But there’s a haunted look in his eyes - and a growing want to savor the conversation. He really is cute.
“Kumiko told me to, eh, give this to you.” He pulls a folded-up paper out of his pocket and hands it over, his hands clammy and cold against yours as you touch.
Interesting. Kumiko wouldn’t have sent him if she was still mad at his apparent disinterest in her.
“Really? Did you do something nice today?”
“Eh?”
“That was a joke,” you smile, trying to lighten the mood. For all the thinking you do, you’ve yet to learn how to translate it into normal behavior. Well, most of the time anyway. “How’s training going?”
“Good,” he nods a few times as if to psych him up. “Can I ask… are you a-a third year?”
“No, I’m a second year.”
“Really?” He squeaks.
“Yes. I know I look younger than that, but we can’t all be as tall as you,” you smile when he blushes, an unfamiliar warmth bubbling in your stomach. Oh.
He’s quiet so you unfold the paper, look at all the stats Kumiko has written down for you. There’s a lot of information there and even more to unpack.
“Are you going to write about us?” Himekawa asks and you nod.
“Yes. But this is mostly for studying.”
“Studying?”
“Did you know that there’s something called Sport psychology? It uses psychological knowledge and skills to address optimal performance and well-being of athletes.”
“You do that?”
“I try,” you admit. “I wanna learn it someday. Either that or journalism.”
“Wow.”
His adoration disconcerts you, but it’s come and gone in a moment.
“I should get back,” he realizes, stepping away. “It was nice-” He hesitates. “Meeting you.”
“Same here.”
-
You watch his game against Karasuno.
The first, failed serve, his nerves bubbling before he makes it. How the team motivates him to try again.
And when he tries again, oh, how does he play. The ball flies high up in the air, straining to reach the sky.
It’s beautiful enough that you wish you had a camera to film it, something to keep this moment in only to savor it later, again and again.
Another service ace, and then, slowly, the tipping of the scale. Someone from the other team can get the ball up. “Their ace,” someone next to you mumbles and you can see it, in the squaredness of his shoulders and the determination on his face.
Himekawa manages to dig the ball coming at him and Teradomari makes another point.
Karasuno calls for a regroup and Tsubakihara celebrates quietly as they wait.
Yet, you can’t help but feel that the tides have turned already. That Himekawa’s moment has come and gone.
Sadly, your predictions come true. He serves, though his shoulders are tense again, or at least it seems that way to you. This time, the serve flies toward Karasuno’s libero who has no problem receiving it. Karasuno turns defense into offense, attacking vigorously.
Himekawa stands frozen in place as the ball slams down right next to him.
You watch him leave the court, all the while feeling a strange pull, a need to get up and down there, though to do what, you don’t know.
It’s only when you do reach the team after their loss that you realize what you’d felt the need to do.
Your hand finds Himekawa’s shoulder on its own, squeezes the firm muscle through the jersey just like your heart squeezes when he looks at you through teary eyes.
“That was an impressive game,” you say, feeling wholly unequipped for this.
Echigo clears his throat and you take a step back, pulling your hand away despite wanting to do anything but that.
Kumiko’s eyebrows are raised and even Azumi, still new to this thing, seems to know something you don’t.
They let you sit next to him on the way back, your side burning where your thighs meet, your arms touching, his shoulder digging into yours.
You wrack your brain trying to think of something to say, but it doesn’t matter in the end when he falls asleep with his head against the window, his pinky finger resting on your knee where it slipped off his.
-
The new school year brings change. The third years are gone.
No longer do you have to fear Kumiko’s scorn if you come to watch the Volleyball team practice. Himekawa has been promoted to a starting player for now and he sends you the sweetest smile every time you come to visit - always under the crumbling disguise of needing information for another article.
He is so cute, and you fear he has started to notice.
…
“Hey,” he finds you in the library, of all places. Your safe heaven, your secret hiding place. Well, not so secret anymore.
“Hey.”
“Mind if I sit with you?”
“Be my guest.”
You work quietly alongside each other, taking turns glancing at each other.
His Adam's apple bobs every time you look up and you can feel his gaze on your face, your hands, the curve of your nose whenever you look away.
“Do you…” He starts but cuts himself off, shakes his head.
You desperately want to know what he wanted to ask. But he doesn’t bring it up again, packing his stuff only a few minutes later. “Gotta go to practice.”
“Okay. Good luck.”
…
“Please be my boyfriend.”
The girl is in his year, from the Newspaper Club no less. You know her, though not intimately, but watching her confess to Himekawa feels like a knife to the back.
Himekawa’s eyes flicker over the crowd that has grown around him, all of them waiting for his answer. You slip away before he can catch you looking, though you’re not fast enough to miss his answer.
“Thank you, but I’d rather not.”
…
“Hey.” You find him at the bus stop, glaring up at the clouds.
“H-Hey.”
“Forgot your umbrella?”
“Yeah.”
You don’t offer your own, close it instead and slip under the awning with him. The bench is damp, the moisture soaking into your skirt as you sit. His big brown eyes are on you as you roll the words over your tongue like marbles, unsure of what to say.
“I’m leaving at the end of the year.”
“Y-you mean you’re graduating.”
“Yes,” you nod, not quite looking at him but not quite letting him out of your sight either.
“I’ve already got accepted to all Colleges I applied to.”
“Congratulations.”
“Thank you.” You roll your wet umbrella between your hands, weigh the impact of your words and the impact of your silence, should you keep them to yourself.
“I’m not going to confess to you,” you admit finally, watching him jerk back from the corner of your eye. “Because I don’t believe in long-distance relationships. And what kind of relationship would that be, you trying to graduate and me trying to find my footing in College.”
A wry smile places itself on his lips. “You assume I’d accept your confession?”
“Wouldn’t you?” You turn to him. He’s quiet for a moment, not quite looking at you either when he admits to the truth himself.
“I would.”
You sit there for a while, taking in the rain around you, the silence, the heaviness of it all.
Your pinky moves first, bringing with it the memory of that one drive home after Nationals, his pinky resting on your knee. When it reaches out, flexing slightly, it meets his, doing the same.
Your eyes flicker up to his, his cautious, anxious smile as your pinky’s link, holding on tightly.
And even though you know it can only bring heartbreak, you lean in any way, meeting him halfway.
-
Himekawa makes Captain of the Volleyball team by the time you graduate.
He presses the second button of his uniform into your palm as you cross paths outside of school, despite him being a year early. His graduation is only next year.
“Will you come to watch our games?” He asks.
“As many as I can,” you promise, the memory of his lips against yours still fresh in your mind, despite half a year passing since then.
And maybe you would have kissed him again, gone against that promise you gave yourself, and confessed to him despite it all, if not for all the people around you, all the murmuring, and all the stares.
“Good luck,” you tell him, reaching out to pat his head instead, his soft curls like velvet underneath your fingertips.
You turn back one last time as you leave, not quite expecting him to do the same.
He waves and you wish you could know the future.
- - -
Aoi naps like a kitten, legs turned in a different direction than the rest of his body, his nose curled up as he dreams.
Your hand finds his hair on its own, dragging your nails over his scalp as he shivers under your touch.
“Love,” you tell him quietly. “Dinner’s ready.”
“I wasn’t sleeping,” he mumbles and you can see the sixteen-year-old boy in the man who’s more than ten years older now, can see some of the innocence he’s never quite lost. “Just resting my eyes.”
“If you say so,” you humor him, listening to the sound of small feet hitting the floor. “Incoming.”
“Uff,” Nana lands heavy on his stomach, greeting him with the loud “Mreeeeooooww” she only uses for him. He pats her head and you can’t help but laugh, your hand in his hair, his hair in her fur.
“What?” He asks, his brown eyes warm as he looks up at you.
“Nothing,” you lean in to kiss him. “I just love you.”
“Oh,” he laughs. “I love you more.”
“Mhm, I love you most.”
“Agree to disagree.”
“Mrreoww,” Nana sides with him, her dark eyes watching you like she knows it all.
Garouden: The Way of the Lone Wolf — A Fighter’s Review
Garouden isn’t your average tournament anime. It’s not Baki, it’s not Kengan Ashura, and it’s definitely not a style-over-substance combat parade. It’s raw, deliberate, emotionally loaded martial arts storytelling built for people who’ve actually fought, or at the very least understand what it means to fight. The first season, released on Netflix, is a flawed but deeply honest exploration of…
So I’ve become obsessed with Himekawa he’s so cuttteeee ❤️❤️❤️❤️ I saw a fanfic between him and the Tsubakihara team and it inspired me to write this. I thought it would be interesting if Motoki tickled Himekawa as punishment for hitting him in the head with his serve.
Warnings: None, tickling
Summery: Motoki wants to punish Himekawa for nailing him in the head during the game
“Man that game freakin sucked” Iwamuro sighed as Tsubakihara team entered their dorm room. “I know right we even lost both sets!” Kaikake added. Himekawa looked down at the floor “m’sorry” me mumbled. “What the heck are you apologizing for Himekawa you were great out there.” One of his teammates said, “uh, minus nailing Motoki in the head …”
Himekawa flinched at those words and his mood worsened. He still felt guilty for flubbing his serve and hitting one of his teammates in the head with it also. “Yea I don’t think I ever got to punish you for that Hime…” Motoki said, wiggling his fingers in his face. “W-what?!” Himekawa yelped when he said that, “I’m so sorry I swear I didn’t mean to do it!” He said, backing away as he desperately tried looking for a way out of the situation. “Uh oh someone’s in for a rough night” Atema said with a laugh. “N-no stay back! Don’t do this! Ple-hehehe nohohohoho!” Motoki had taken the chance to pounce on his underclassman.
Himekawa was known as the most ticklish player on the team and was teased for it constantly. Motoki immediately went for his sides, squeezing with everything he had in him. Himekawa squealed and erupted with hysterical giggles as he tried fighting off the hands. “Mohohotokihihi stahahap” he said through his fit.
“Not after you nailed me in the head Hime!” Motoki said teasingly. “Ihihihi Sahahaid Ihihi whahahas sohohoryyyy!!!” the younger teammate insisted. “You know what’s so cute about you Hime? That you have the cutest ticklish spots.” Motoki said as he went under Himekawas shirt and dug into the soft flesh of his stomach. “AHAHAHA PLEHEHEASE!!!” Himekawas laughter went up several octaves as the ticklish sensations filled his abdomen, his struggles becoming more desperate.
“Try his underarms!” One of their teammates yelled. “NONONONO DOHOHONT- AHAHAHAHAHAHA PLEHEHEHEHEHASE”Himekawa shrieked with ticklish laughter. He tried clamping his arms down but the tickler was much faster and was already in before Himekawa could protect himself. “Wow this really tickles you doesn’t it Aoi~” Motoki said teasingly. Himekawas face was getting red from how hard he was laughing. “LEHEHEHET MEHEHEHE GOHOHOHO IHIHIM SOHOHOHORHEHEHYYY” Himekawa screamed through his hysterics.
It wasn’t until his laughter went silent that Motoki finally gave him a break. “That… was.. so mean…” Himekawa panted with his back to the floor, trying to catch his breath. Motoki laughed “not my fault your so damn ticklish.”
