- i found you || O N E
synopsis: How can you forget and move on from a past that hunts you down every single day? Y/N L/N's past follows her everywhere she goes in the tormenting faces of her ex-best friends. Bullied, threaten, alienated, and lost Y/N is met with a new obstacle when a determined Tendo Satori moves into her neighboring locker.
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chapter || o n e
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April comes quickly, the cherry blossoms blooming with ease as the temperature sinks into warmth. Even the nighttime lows are manageable this time of year. Y/N sinks deeper into her crimson bed sheets, lifting the thick covers up and over her head as she sighs heavily. Nothing has changed around her, the small and bleak dorm room held all of her belongings; some of which is still tucked away in boxes since moving in in her first year. All things considering, this is home.
Rolling begrudgingly from the sheets, sitting up on the edge of her bed, Y/N runs her hands down her face with a groan, it’s okay, I’m gonna be okay.
The showerhead stuttered alive as the cold water splashed onto her pale skin, a hiss of surprise ringing against the tile from her lips. A shiver runs from her toes, around her spine, settling at the crown of her head as Y/N scrubs at her skin. With each harsh stroke comes the hopeful plea that, somehow, she’ll be able to wash everything about herself away. Body and soul slipping down with the water and soap to twirl around the rusting metal drain of the shower, sinking away from the visible world. Gone would be everything she was and is, gone would be her worries, and gone would be her torment. Never again would she have to face Hitomi and Hisakawa.
Switching the shower off, unable to rid herself of anything but dirt and grime, Y/N stands before the mirror. Her dark black hair clings to her shoulders, swooping down her back and onto the towel. It’s a fresh canvas, her delicate skin, never ready for the plethora of bruises she’s bound to receive – a mix of her clumsiness and her own doing. She notices the dull color of her brown eyes, once having shone with life, and now a reminder of her constant fatigue.
Being a third-year student was supposed to hold a lot of possibilities, especially for those who went to Shiratorizawa Academy. This school was filled with striving scholars and ambitious athletes, all hoping to grow and receive scholarships. If only Y/N could have the same goals and high hopes, her ambitions dwindling little by little every day she spends behind these walls.
She changes into her school uniform; her white top fighting snugly against her slim form while her plaid purple skirt falls just above her knee. As she pulls at her black knee-high socks, she sighs and closes her eyes briefly. One day at a time, nice and slow just like usual, she recites to herself, a silent prayer that this year all can be forgotten. Maybe they’re bored with me now and I can live a quiet existence.
Walking across buildings to the schoolhouse Y/N hikes her black bag higher on her shoulder, clenching her hand tightly as she nears the hallway of lockers. Having lockers was an odd change for her, coming from a junior-high that made you keep your books with you or in the classrooms like most other schools in Japan.
Approaching locker A3002, she bows her head to unlock the metal before company arrives. Halfway through her second year, the two lockers beside Y/N’s grew vacant. Each student that was assigned to them quickly requested new ones by the end of their first week. The excuses were always the same, the blame resting heavily on Y/N’s shoulders. And they weren’t entirely lying.
A curtain of black hair shielding her periphery she unlocks the metal door, a bustle of commotion erupts at the end of the hallway. The hall is already swimming with students collecting their materials from lockers or loitering by friends, that the noise could have gone unnoticed. But Y/N knew who the noise came from, rushing to open the locker to grab everything she needed before they notice her.
His sharp laugh penetrates her ears as they toss a soccer ball between the three of them. Fujimori rips the ball from Yoshida’s dirty hands, shoving at his shoulder before discarding it into his locker and slams the metal shut. The sounds of their laughter bouncing around Y/N’s skull and the second her lock clicks open he homes in on her presence.
Like clockwork, Hisakawa’s long legs are making their way leisurely toward Y/N with a growing smirk on his chapped lips. He whistles long and low as he gets closer, running his fingers through his slicked back hair, “’Morning, Y/N! Are ya ready for class?” His tone is light and friendly, quick hands ripping her bag from her shoulder. “I hope you got everything ya need, how ‘bout we check?”
He holds the bag open as Yoshida sticks his grimy hands in and digs through the organized folders ripping out notebooks and assignments. All her hard work and sleepless nights sprawled at her feet in a crumpled manner as she watches. No one around them is paying attention, their eyes purposely avoiding the situation. All of them know that Hisakawa and his friends wouldn’t stop even if they interject.
Emptying the bag, Yoshida tosses it against the lockers and shrugs, “Looks like it’s all here after all.”
Fujimori playfully bumps his friend’s back, “Butter fingers, you dropped all her stuff!”
“Pick it up,” Hisakawa’s growl was deep and stern, his dark eyes boring into her body as he nods to the heaping pile of paper, “now.”
Across the hall a locker slams, wrenching a breathy gasp from her chest as dread fills her. She could feel the volleyball player’s glare as he leans up against his locker to watch. Y/N snaps her body to the ground, knees bending and arms reaching to quickly collect the papers; muffling the voice in her head that begs her to keep them organized.
Hisakawa bends down to her level, his face close to hers, “Don’t forget where you belong now, Y/N. On your knees and doing what your told.” His whisper is harsh and just for her, his lips curve into a sneer, dark brows relaxing with his judging eyes, “You disgust me.”
He stands, stepping on a piece of the paper she was reaching for, ripping it in half as he stalks away. Yoshida and Fujimori snicker at his heels as they follow him. The halls were starting to empty now, the bell singing throughout the academy. Y/N gathers the rest of her materials, shoving them hastily into her bag before standing. The volleyball player still leans against the row of lockers, his hands shoved lazily into his plaid pants. His spiked hair was such a deep red, that it almost seemed unreal to her.
He didn’t move, his friend waiting beside him on his cell phone as the final warning bell rang throughout the emptying space. With the startling sound, Y/N quickly walks away from the brooding volleyball players rushing toward her classroom. Rounding the corner, she sees Saito-sensei stepping out into the hall to close the door.
a/n: this is a sort of slow start to the story, we see more tendou in chapter three i promise :) anyways, hope you enjoy my story - its been boggling around my brain for 100 yrs.