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Washijo likes to think of himself as a good coach. Sure, he yells at his students more often than not and rarely gives any praise in return, but that’s what tough love was all about. In the end, as much as his years of experience would argue that the journey was more important than the results, the latter still mattered. And he did produce results. In fact, he produced more results as a coach than he ever did as a player, single-handedly building his reputation from scratch.
But just as he was starting to think that his gift for coaching could be good karma, he met the new Shiratorizawa team.
In the case of Kawanishi and Goshiki:
It was no secret that Washijo favoured stature over all else when recruiting new first years. Thus, the minute he set eyes on Goshiki, he knew he had to scout him. The first year came in young, blur, and as fresh-faced as the others. However, he somehow managed to barge his way into the starting line up (though, he hadn’t broken that news to the team). For that, Washijo respected him. Goshiki, while not yet worthy of the ace title, was still the most hardworking of the bunch. He’d never admit it, but the old man saw a glimmer of his younger self in that first year; a boy striving to be the ace and settling for nothing less.
Except, unlike him, Goshiki had real potential to reach his dream.
Kawanishi was a different case; he, on the other hand, was naturally gifted from the start. Moreover, he was a fast learner and also secured his spot on the starting line up by his second year - a feat not many could achieve. While he wasn’t scouted by Washijo himself, the ginger still played a pivotal role in the team’s defence. For that, the coach held him in high regard.
So when Washijo walked in on the two making out, needless to say, he freaked.
It all started when he decided to come early for training. He followed his usual routine: park his car, walk to the gymnasium, mentally review his training program for the day, etc. etc. Usually, he trusted his students to warm up on their own but recently, a foreign curiosity began to ebb at his conscience. After all, spring high was coming up and he needed to know if they were taking their warm ups seriously; it would be a problem to have any one of them injured before the competition.
By the time he’d reached the gym, the lights were still off. He sparred a glance at his watch. Thirty minutes before the start of training. That's fine, he convinced himself. There would be no problem as long as they started promptly. Without further ado, he then proceeded to stride into the gym and that’s when he saw it.
Goshiki was pressed up against the wall, his hands running through Kawanishi’s locks. The elder was in no way gentle, smashing their lips together and eliciting desperate moans from the first year. Through the gloom, he could barely make out the silhouette of Kawanishi’s hand reaching lower and lower and… no… no way…
Washijo’s mind reeled, unable to decide whether to scream or scram. So naturally, he did both, sprinting out of the gym as fast as his old legs could carry him with an incomprehensable holler.
He never came early for training again.
In the case of Semi and Shirabu:
Washijo never anticipated that two people in the team could cause so many problems. And it wasn’t even the couple he’d witnessed the other day; it was the setters. At first, he was pleased with their rivalry and hoped it’d cause both of them to spur each other on. After all, healthy competition was always welcome.
Until they started bickering every single training.
It wasn’t even the loud kind of bickering. It was the painfully silent, glaring daggers and throwing sarcastic comments at each other kind of bickering. And though Washijo was never one to meddle in his student’s affairs, the second it affected their in-game performance, he knew he had to do something about it. He had a talk with his trusted captain who agreed to force them to do clean up duty until they could find a way to stop fighting.
It worked, they did stop fighting.
They started fucking instead.
It was after he dismissed them from training. Washijo had driven all the way home, only to realize that he left his house keys back at the gymnasium. He cursed under his breath, speeding back to the school in hopes that the setters hadn’t locked up. As he did his half-jog half walk to the gym, he overheard voices. Good, they’re still there, he thought, instant relief flooding through him.
“I told you I was sorry.”
“Sure.”
“Why do you have to be such a brat?”
“What do you expect me to say? ‘Oh, I accept your apology with gratitude, Semi-senpai.’? Well, there you have it.”
“That’s not what I’m talking about!”
“Oh? So what are you talking about? Please, use your words. I can’t read minds.”
“That! Why do you talk to me like that? Why can’t you just treat me like every other senior?”
“Maybe because I don’t want to.”
Then, there was silence. Washijo took it as a good sign, slowing his pace to a stroll and taking his time to walk the rest of the way.
He soon realized it was not a good sign. In fact, it was far from a good sign.
Pushing the door to the gym open, the first thing that caught his attention were his two prized setters engaging in… the unspeakable. Not again, he thought. By god, not again. He instantly averted his gaze but the damage was already done. The haunting image had now been burned to the back of his mind as he turned tail and ran.
Damn the house keys, damn it all. He was not going to do the world’s worst walk of shame back to the gym, he’ll just get them tomorrow. Whipping out his phone, he then dialed the one person who might empathize with his tribulations. Ikkei Ukai.
“Ikkei, can I stay at your place tonight?”
“Haah? What happened to your house?”
“I left my keys in the gym.”
“Then go get it, or are you finally too old to walk,” he taunted, and Washijo couldn’t help but chuckle at their old banter.
“There's… I have… There is a problem.”
Ikkei scoffed. “You’ve been having problems since you stopped growing.”
“No no, this is different. I just walked in on my students. I'd rather sleep in the subway than go back.”, he hissed.
“Oh, so the ace finally got with the red-haired guy.”
“No! Wait… what?”
“You should really listen when your students talk, y'know. It’s good for old farts like us to keep up with the gossip when we can’t experience it ourselves. Come over, I’ll tell you what I know.”
In the case of Ushijima and Tendou:
Apparently the members of Karasuno volleyball club speculated that his captain and middle blocker were together. Well, if that were true, he was grateful they kept whatever they did in private… private. Spring high remained his number one priority and he did not need a longer list of students who wouldn't dare look him in the eye. On the bright side, they seemed to have some newfound fear for him. Especially Goshiki. Simply calling his name would get him sprinting over as though his life depended on it.
Since Ushijima came to Shiratorizawa, he’d been nothing less than excellent. Height, stature, attitude, leadership; he had it all. In Washijo's many years of coaching, Ushijima was the first to be crowned ace in his first year.
Tendou, on the other hand, was different. He was unpredictable and wild - but somehow still reliable. While he still didn’t quite have a solid impression of Tendou, he knew that the redhead was one of a kind and no one could quite replicate his guess-block playstyle.
At least he could trust his ace, he thought, the most sensible, mature man on the team.
He soon had to take his words back.
Washijo had just finished a meeting with the teacher-in-charge and was about to head home when an idea struck him. He should conduct a spot check on how well-maintained the equipment was. You’d think that after not one, but two unfortunate incidents, he’d learn to avoid the gym like the plague. But this was important; the sale was ending soon and if a net had to be replaced, he had to know now.
This time, instead of barging through the doors of the gym, he pushed them ajar, peeking in to ensure that it was empty. Sure enough, there was not a soul in sight. He headed over to the supply closet, all sense of caution quelled by the empty gym.
And that’s the story of how walked in on the last and final couple.
Before he could stop himself, he bellowed: “This was not what I meant by getting your head in the game!”
Wasting no time, he turned round and stormed out.
-------
That was pretty much the last straw. He needed to call a meeting. He needed to berate them, maybe even punish them with diving laps around the court. Heck, maybe he should just quit his job; he’d seen too much.
But once the meeting was called at the end of training, Washijo stood face to face with the team and couldn't find it in him to be harsh. An odd, almost fatherly fondness bloomed in his chest. These were his students. Students he’d spent almost every day with for the past few years. Students that had given their all in every training, no matter how daunting it was. And most of all, these were the students that shared his passion for volleyball. Boys will be boys, he told himself before starting his speech.
“I called you all here to address a certain issue.” Sheepish grins and downcast gazes filled his audience. “I understand that spring high is coming and it is a stressful time for everyone.” He paused, an accusatory stare fixed on his features. “But if you feel the need to kiss each other, fondle each other, or do other questionable things to each other, please, for the love of god, KEEP IT OUT OF THE GYMNASIUM.”
Chaos erupted.
Tendou howled with laughter. Kawaishi and Semi at least had the decency to appear embarrassed. Ushijima and Shirabu somehow maintained their straight faces, though not daring to meet his gaze. And Goshiki? The poor boy looked ready to bolt.
Washijo stifled a sigh, deciding once and for all that Reon was now his official favorite.
“Training dismissed.”