Warnings: None Word Count: 712 (if you'd like something a little more shippy, op, i can certainly try for a sequel that has some smooches or something, but i wanted to give this a shot at least ;; sorry if it disappoints!!)
He's seated in the stands at a national sports competition, waiting for his turn; there's not much to do between matches but watch others. Taking in a different sport than his own had seemed appealing, a chance to learn and observe a discipline other than his own.
He's at the volleyball courts, alone. The rest of Rakuzan's starters are out to lunch, he thinks, but Akashi wants a bit of time to himself, time to be centered, breathe, prepare.
He didn't expect to cast such a keen eye on anything here, but Akashi cannot take his gaze away from the young man. Tooru Oikawa, the program reads -- captain of Aoba Jousai. He's impressive, to say the least. Oikawa is solid, almost rigid, in his focus, but moves across the court and falls to his knees with a fluid, almost graceful sort of movement.
His serves are weaponized -- precise, deadly with their intensity, and Akashi finds himself sitting up a little straighter every time Oikawa stands behind the line to demonstrate that particular skill again.
The final point goes to him specifically, a service ace that makes the entire gym shriek, but Akashi is silent, just staring, watching the boy collect himself. They've proceeded onwards in the tournament, but what's on his face for the moment before his teammates descend upon him isn't relief, nor joy: it's resignation, determination.
Akashi has never felt such kinship with a perfect stranger before. He recognizes that look perfectly, though -- knows it's mirrored on his own face at the end of every game. The sort of expression that only says, "onto the next". It is so familiar that Akashi frowns, uncomfortable. What a strange, disconcerting thing it is to see yourself reflected so clearly.
Oikawa's eyes burn the same way Akashi's do -- wild, fierce, with an anger behind them that shows how far they're both willing to go. That fire hasn't disappeared now that the match is over; Akashi feels sickly fascinated.
He watches Oikawa walk off the court, sees him favor one leg over the other just so, notes the brace there, and frowns deeper. Akashi understands that, too -- the damage done to him is not external, but he is without a doubt wounded from how far he's pushed himself.
He leaves, thoughtful, and still unsettled.
The players disperse after their time in the locker room, and Akashi makes no attempt to hide his presence when Oikawa finally exits, thankfully alone.
"That was commendable," Akashi says, well aware of how patronizing it sounds. The defiant clench of Oikawa's jaw, brief but not unnoticed, confirms everything Akashi has speculated.
It disappears, replaced by a wide smile, feigned cheerfulness, but his eyes betray him, still -- slightly narrowed, still burning. "Such high praise, thank you, stranger!"
Akashi doesn't offer his name, there's no need to keep the boy, but he can't deny having felt compelled to speak to him just once personally. It's only a few words, but that's okay -- it satisfies a little curiosity, makes him feel a bit... better, somehow.
They part. Oikawa watches him go, quizzical.
Later, when Rakuzan finally steps onto the court, he spots Oikawa in the stands with, presumably, a friend of his. They're chatting away, or at least they are until tip-off. Akashi refuses to consider that he plays especially rigorously because he has an audience, but regardless of why, his performance is stellar for the day. It is an easy victory.
Oikawa accosts him after the game as well, from behind, with a hand on his shoulder. He leans in, soft, smug, well aware he's poking fun -- "commendable, captain. Good game."
And if Akashi shivers, just slightly, for whatever reason, no one mentions it.
"I hope to see you play again," Akashi admits, to Oikawa, who is already retreating. That gets a laugh; it seems like a real one.
"It's too bad we don't play the same sport, but it might be better that way, huh?"
There's not exactly time to answer, but that's alright. He has a name, now, and a school -- he can keep tabs on his career, out of professional intrigue, of course.
And whether he does or not doesn't really matter -- he'll see Oikawa again, he's certain.
FILL: TEAM AKASHI SEIJUUROU/NIJIMURA SHUUZOU, G
Word Count: 712
(if you'd like something a little more shippy, op, i can certainly try for a sequel that has some smooches or something, but i wanted to give this a shot at least ;; sorry if it disappoints!!)
He's seated in the stands at a national sports competition, waiting for his turn; there's not much to do between matches but watch others. Taking in a different sport than his own had seemed appealing, a chance to learn and observe a discipline other than his own.
He's at the volleyball courts, alone. The rest of Rakuzan's starters are out to lunch, he thinks, but Akashi wants a bit of time to himself, time to be centered, breathe, prepare.
He didn't expect to cast such a keen eye on anything here, but Akashi cannot take his gaze away from the young man. Tooru Oikawa, the program reads -- captain of Aoba Jousai. He's impressive, to say the least. Oikawa is solid, almost rigid, in his focus, but moves across the court and falls to his knees with a fluid, almost graceful sort of movement.
His serves are weaponized -- precise, deadly with their intensity, and Akashi finds himself sitting up a little straighter every time Oikawa stands behind the line to demonstrate that particular skill again.
The final point goes to him specifically, a service ace that makes the entire gym shriek, but Akashi is silent, just staring, watching the boy collect himself. They've proceeded onwards in the tournament, but what's on his face for the moment before his teammates descend upon him isn't relief, nor joy: it's resignation, determination.
Akashi has never felt such kinship with a perfect stranger before. He recognizes that look perfectly, though -- knows it's mirrored on his own face at the end of every game. The sort of expression that only says, "onto the next". It is so familiar that Akashi frowns, uncomfortable. What a strange, disconcerting thing it is to see yourself reflected so clearly.
Oikawa's eyes burn the same way Akashi's do -- wild, fierce, with an anger behind them that shows how far they're both willing to go. That fire hasn't disappeared now that the match is over; Akashi feels sickly fascinated.
He watches Oikawa walk off the court, sees him favor one leg over the other just so, notes the brace there, and frowns deeper. Akashi understands that, too -- the damage done to him is not external, but he is without a doubt wounded from how far he's pushed himself.
He leaves, thoughtful, and still unsettled.
The players disperse after their time in the locker room, and Akashi makes no attempt to hide his presence when Oikawa finally exits, thankfully alone.
"That was commendable," Akashi says, well aware of how patronizing it sounds. The defiant clench of Oikawa's jaw, brief but not unnoticed, confirms everything Akashi has speculated.
It disappears, replaced by a wide smile, feigned cheerfulness, but his eyes betray him, still -- slightly narrowed, still burning. "Such high praise, thank you, stranger!"
Akashi doesn't offer his name, there's no need to keep the boy, but he can't deny having felt compelled to speak to him just once personally. It's only a few words, but that's okay -- it satisfies a little curiosity, makes him feel a bit... better, somehow.
They part. Oikawa watches him go, quizzical.
Later, when Rakuzan finally steps onto the court, he spots Oikawa in the stands with, presumably, a friend of his. They're chatting away, or at least they are until tip-off. Akashi refuses to consider that he plays especially rigorously because he has an audience, but regardless of why, his performance is stellar for the day. It is an easy victory.
Oikawa accosts him after the game as well, from behind, with a hand on his shoulder. He leans in, soft, smug, well aware he's poking fun -- "commendable, captain. Good game."
And if Akashi shivers, just slightly, for whatever reason, no one mentions it.
"I hope to see you play again," Akashi admits, to Oikawa, who is already retreating. That gets a laugh; it seems like a real one.
"It's too bad we don't play the same sport, but it might be better that way, huh?"
There's not exactly time to answer, but that's alright. He has a name, now, and a school -- he can keep tabs on his career, out of professional intrigue, of course.
And whether he does or not doesn't really matter -- he'll see Oikawa again, he's certain.