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To manage the eccentric team of a powerhouse school, one needed a few strong virtues. Clarity. Confidence. Discipline. Patience. God, so much patience.
Today, you had none of those things.
“Matsukawa. Hanamaki. Oikawa.” Their names dropped from your lips like death sentences. “What is this.”
“Well…” Oikawa began, grinning cheekily like the idiot he truly is. “Seijoh doesn’t have an official cheer team. And the principal asked each sports team to prepare something for the school assembly this afternoon. So~”
“So you thought…” You rubbed your temples. “That you would become the cheer team?”
“Bingo,” Mattsun grinned.
“That’s our Manager-chan. Always so quick,” Makki added.
“Do not even test me right now.” You stepped back and blinked hard to make sure you weren’t seeing things. Alas, your vision was fine.
Standing (rather proudly) in front of you were three of the most well-respected players of the Seijoh volleyball club sporting nothing but bright blue skater skirts, white and blue crop tops with the Aoba Johsai emblem blazed across it, pom poms, and, for some reason, glittery bows.
“How did you even…”
“Oikawa knows a girl at the t-shirt customization place,” Makki supplied. You nodded numbly.
“Which is to say he knows- ”
“No, I got it, thank you.” You glanced around exasperatedly.
“Where is Coach Irihata? No, nevermind, he’d just laugh. Where is Coach Mizoguchi?” Then, you paused. “Where is...Iwaizumi?”
The three exchanged amused looks. You turned around the empty gym.
“And the rest of the team…?”
Rapid shuffling approached the gym doors.
“Are you fucking kidding me-”
“ Move already, I refuse -”
“Calm down, it’s not even that-”
The doors slammed open. Immediately, the team rushed in and bolted for the bleachers, reaching for bags and jackets. You stared at the flood of short skirts and blushy faces. You felt your own cheeks heat up.
I mean, of course, you’d been here for all their conditioning and workouts. You knew that these boys were in top physical shape. But you hadn’t exactly seen that, and the crop tops and skirts were not doing anything to hide anything. You turned your head back to the gym doors to avoid any dangerous roving eyes.
Then, like the angel of death, Iwaizumi Hajime made his entrance.
“OI, SHITTYKAWA!” Makki and Mattsun dipped at the first syllable, slipping backwards into the mass of embarrassed students. Surprisingly, Oikawa kept his cool.
“Now now, Iwa-chan, let’s not do anything too hasty,” he chastised, putting his hands up. “This was a group vote within the third years after all.”
Though Iwaizumi’s face was contorted in anger, his arms were wrapped awkwardly around his midriff and his voice pitched a little too high for true anger. His face was flushed probably more from mortification than genuine rage. You blinked after him.
The shirt clung ridiculously well to his defined chest. A second wave of heat flushed up to your cheeks. You let out a silent thank you prayer for whichever third year decided to opt for the sleeveless option because, even though you promised yourself that you wouldn’t get romantically involved with any of the boys, that didn’t mean that you couldn’t admire how glorious Iwaizumi’s arms were.
No. No. Do not let yourself go any further down that line of thought, look away now. But really, you should’ve remembered that the entire gym was filled with identically dressed boys, because turning around only put you face to chest with the other two bastard third years. You dropped your head to avoid revealing your hot face.
Mistake #2.
Damn. Abs. As if reading your thoughts, Mattsun flashed you a wicked grin that you wished you could slap off.
“You know what? You’re actually right for once.” Your attention snapped back to Iwa as his voice moved into your direction. “Mattsun. Makki. Come here.”
The two were evidently more prepared, though, because they quickly shielded themselves behind the nearest kouhais (and you, but you were used to that).
“Aw come on, Hajime. It’s not that bad. Look how cute Kindaichi looks!” Mattsun patted said kouhai’s shoulders and Kindaichi flushed with a strange sense of pride. A silly grin took over his face, even as he tugged down on his top.
“And have you ever seen Kunimi-kun look so pretty?” Makki pinched Kunimi’s cheek affectionately. The usually impassive wing spiker was redder than you’d ever seen him before, hands tightly gripping the edges of his skirt as he tried to keep it from inching any higher.
“Hanamaki-san, please don’t…” he mumbled.
“Using the first years against me, huh? Real low, guys.” Somewhere in the background, you could hear Oikawa begin laughing.
You decided to step away from the volatile situation. Still feeling very hot, you retreated into a corner of the gym and slumped onto a bench. This was really happening. You were surrounded by volleyball boys wearing much too short, much too tight cheer uniforms, about to head to a school-wide assembly, the coaches weren’t here, and you couldn’t do anything about it.
“(Y/n), don’t worry so much. If we get in trouble for this, Oikawa-san will take the fall,” a gentle voice joked. You glanced up to see Yahaba and Watari flashing comforting smiles. A weak one found its way to your own.
“You’re handling this surprisingly well, guys,” you noted. “Aren’t you embarrassed?”
“Speak for yourself,” Yahaba smirked. “This skirt makes my thighs look great.”
“This isn’t the first time I’ve worn a skirt,” Watari shrugged.
You did your best not to try and verify that statement. However, instinct was faster, and your eyes flicked down.
Damn. He’s right .
Yahaba laughed at your sputtered apologies, waving you off. You dropped your face into your hands while Watari rubbed your back in a failed, but appreciated, attempt to calm you down.
“I bet the other managers don’t have to deal with shit like this,” you moaned, thinking back to the training camp where you met Yukie and Kaori, the managers for Fukurodani. While their ace was...eccentric, the rest of their team seemed to have a good handle on things. Then there was Shimizu-san from the interhighs. Even though Karasuno was chaotic, it at least looked like each chaos causer had an assigned babysitter. Plus she had another manager to help.
“Hey, where’s Kyoutani?” You heard Yahaba ask. You didn’t dare lift your face up, wanting to relish in the ignorance a bit longer.
“He hasn’t stopped staring at himself in the mirror…” Watari sighed.
Oh right. The mirror. The one they’d installed so they could ‘check on their form’ while training.
You managed a peek through your fingers to see Kyoutani straight faced, staring at himself a couple feet from you.
“Kentarou?” You asked slowly.
He stared harder. Then, he turned to you with a decided look on his face.
“I feel very free in this.”
“Eh?”
In response, he wiggled his legs, showing off his range of motion. Then, at your confused face, he nodded solemnly.
This team just gets weirder and weirder...
“What’s wrong, Iwa-chan? Can’t handle a little femininity?” Oikawa’s voice drifted into the edges of your attention.
“I can still beat your ass in a skirt, Idiotkawa, you’re about to catch these pom poms.”
“No need to resort to violence, we’re supposed to be a cheer squad, not a hit sq- augh! Iwa-chan! That hurt!”
You sighed.
This was going to be a very long assembly.