' ah, damn, I once saw ya on th'cover of Monthly Volleyball. Weren't ya that setter of... ' Atsumu starts snapping his fingers, trying to find the name of the university buried somewhere in the recesses of his (small) brain, to no avail. ' can't remember. say, why didja stop? '
her head dips, as if she could hide from the attention, and the laugh that leaves her is almost skittish. fuyumi shifts from one foot to another, wringing her fingers together nervously . . . of all things she might’ve expected, a question about her own days on the court wasn’t among them ; in hindsight, perhaps, she should’ve guessed at least one of these players would know her . . . but she had thought ( or maybe hoped ) that she’d faded back into obscurity.
it is an undeniable truth that fuyumi had loved - no, still loves - the sport, and it is an undeniable truth that she had a talent for it, too. even now, the surprise on her face softens as memories of the sweat on her brow and shoes squeaking across the court fill her mind. she takes a deep breath, and in it she feels the old ache of her ribs heaving with exertion. the ball in her hands . . . the sting of her palms, her wrists, her forearms . . . the shouts from her teammates as a spike powers through . . . for a moment, her heart is overwhelmed with warmth -
and then just as suddenly her final match comes flooding back to her. her chest tightens, this time with apprehension instead of excitement, that overwhelming hopelessness hanging over her head . . . and fuyumi shrinks back into herself.
‘ a - ah, well . . . ’ her voice dies off, eyes cast down to the side . . . and she shrugs. ‘ i suppose i just got too busy. ’
@bloedend / unprompted !