... except you're his daughter.
... and a rich girl ..! oh, the horrors!
CHARACTERS : Kidou Yuuto, Sakuma Jirou, Genda Koujirou, & Fudou Akio
— rambles from latte imagining a reader w/ a "typical" rich girl attitude
— can be read as platonic, but was written with romantic in mind.
— 957 words. 1 swear word. (fudou's part)
---
it starts off already unfair because you exist. not in a normal way, but in a “why is she here and why is she like this” way. rich, flamboyant, kageyama’s daughter of all things, walking into teikoku like the universe personally decided to prank them. you don’t walk, you glide. you don’t carry your own stuff. you delegate. somehow every bag you own defies physics. sakuma once tried to lift one and genuinely thought you were smuggling bricks or a small car inside. you just blinked at him and said it was “essentials”. no elaboration.
kidou clocks you as a problem immediately. not a loud problem, not even a malicious one, just a constant variable he cannot account for. you interrupt strategy meetings with casual comments that accidentally improve the formation. you’ll be lounging on a bench, legs crossed, outfit blindingly impractical, and then you say something like “their left wing hesitates when pressured twice” and kidou has to stop and stare at you like he just watched a magic trick. it makes him deeply uncomfortable how competent you are beneath the glitter. he hates that he trusts you. he hates more that he wants your approval.
Sometimes though, when in a strategizing meeting you interrupt with nonsense like, “Sorry, I forgot I exist and needed attention.”
Does he sigh? Yes.
Does he melt? Also yes.
┆ ⤿ 💌 ⌗
genda is not complicated. he likes order, strength, and people who don’t confuse him.
You confuse him.
深ly.
genda is doomed in a more physical way. you treat him like a pack mule with rights. “koujirou, sweetheart, hold this,” and suddenly his arms are full of bags that weigh more than teikoku’s entire training equipment. he never complains. he just adjusts his grip and follows you like this is his life now. you scold him when he pushes himself too hard. you fix his posture. you tape his hands before matches without asking. he doesn’t know how to handle the way you care so casually, like it’s the most natural thing in the world to worry about him. he’d walk through fire if you asked. you’d probably ask him to grab you a drink instead.
“Koujirou, sweetie, flex for me, I need to confirm my research.”
“What research?”
“If I ever get stranded in the wild, I need to know which of you can carry me and my cat.”
Genda: [buffering noises]
┆ ⤿ 💌 ⌗
sakuma already has attachment issues, you know this.
then you show up with your lethal pretty privilege and shiny accessories and command the room like a some manwha villainess CEO.
like a dog that chose the worst possible owner, he imprints on you instantly. (according to fudou)
he tries to act unbothered, but his ears metaphorically perk up every time you say his name. he gets bullied by fudou for it too, because fudou can smell desperation from 5 km away.
sakuma is the easiest victim and you know it. you tease him gently, constantly, relentlessly. you call him pet names just to watch him spiral. you lean too close when you talk. you praise him in ways that make his ears burn. he tries to stay loyal, dignified, composed but you ruin him by existing near him. he notices the way you stay late organizing equipment. the way you remember everyone’s preferences. the way you never mock their effort, only their attitudes. he realizes you aren’t pretending to care. it makes him soft. it makes him stupid.
You tease him the harshest because he’s the easiest to get riled up.
“Sakuma, baby, fetch—”
“WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?”
“Kidding. I just dropped my lip gloss.”
And he still picks it up.
And wipes it.
And hands it back.
And then walks away in emotional crisis.
┆ ⤿ 💌 ⌗
fudou, though. fudou is warfare. he clocks your attitude instantly and decides this is a game. except you’re better at it. you flirt like you’re bored. you tease like you’re sharpening knives. now he’s the one being mentally folded like origami. you call him out on his bullshit in front of everyone and then smile like you just paid him a compliment. he tries to get under your skin and fails spectacularly because you simply do not care. you tell him to hydrate. you tell him to stop picking fights for attention. you tell him his ego is loud but his footwork could be cleaner. he hates that you’re right. he hates that you see through him. he hates that he listens.
One time you said, “Akki, be a darling and pass me my bag.”
He picked it up.
Immediately dropped it.
Looked at his hands like they’d been cursed.
“WHY DO YOU OWN A BAG HEAVIER THAN MY TRAUMA?!”
You just shrugged.
“My cat wanted it.”
“THE CAT DOESN’T TALK—”
“He practically barked it at me.”
“Cats.. Don't bark??”
and the cat. god, the cat. the designer-wearing menace. you speak about it like it’s a divine being. you justify every absurd purchase with “he wanted it.” when questioned, you insist the cat communicated this desire very clearly. barked it at you, actually. sakuma looks confused. kidou looks tired. genda accepts it as truth. fudou loses his mind every single time.
what really messes them up is that you’re not fake. you’re annoying, yes. you’re indulgent, yes. you tease them like it’s oxygen. but you’re also the one who stays after practice, who notices injuries before they’re mentioned, who argues with kageyama himself when he pushes them too far. you don’t raise your voice. you don’t throw tantrums. you just stand there, perfectly dressed, perfectly calm, and refuse to budge. it terrifies and amuses them.
who knew teikoku academy have their very own natsumi-san?
