Chapter Text
If Iwaizumi had to assign a taste to defeat, it would be rotten eggs. Vile, bitter, and stagnant. Their changing room at the Sendai City Gymnasium reeked of its pungent flavor.
He had known that Karasuno wouldn’t be easily defeated a second time, and they had proven him correct in the most heart-breaking manner possible — by destroying Oikawa’s last chance to take down Ushijima Wakatoshi. He knew he would probably be spending his next couple of evenings sleeping on Oikawa’s floor, mopping melted ice cream off of his friend’s reddened, snotty face.
If that wasn’t enough, there was one matter that nagged in the back of his mind, and he wass pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to sleep until it was handled. Iwaizumi could easily go the rest of his life without speaking to a member of the Karasuno Volleyball Club, even if they were fantastic to watch as a spectator. However, one conversation needed to occur between their sparring clubs, even in the wake of this stinging, stinking defeat at their hands.
Iwaizumi did not excuse himself from the changing room before he walked out, still wearing his sweat-drenched uniform.
It wasn’t difficult to find Karasuno’s changing room; the sounds of their obnoxious skinhead wing spiker and deceptively loud libero echoed out of the room and spilled through the surrounding hallways. Small Fry chimed in with his idiotic senpai, and Iwaizumi was pretty sure he could hear Sawamura bellowing for them all to shut up.
On any other day, the sound would have drawn a smile out of the Seijou ace. But not that day.
Taking a deep breath, Iwaizumi leaned against the wall outside the room and waited.
After about five minutes, someone emerged. Kageyama started and dropped his shoulder bag when he saw his former teammate and senpai.
Ten seconds of uncomfortably intense staring later, Kageyama asked, “Iwaizumi-san! Is there something you needed?”
Nodding, Iwaizumi said, “I was hoping I could have a word with your manager.”
The mention of the team manager brought a mixture of confusion and apprehension to Kageyama’s already sour expression. “Not so loud,” Kageyama said with an air of conspiracy that Iwaizumi was not sure he understood. “Nishinoya-senpai and Tanaka-san don’t let anyone talk to Shimizu-senpai.”
Figures, Iwaizumi thought, that the two loud clowns on the Karasuno team would also double as guard dogs for the admittedly beautiful manager. Shaking his head, he said, “That’s not why I’m here. Something happened before the match, and I owe both of your managers an apology.”
Kageyama’s eyes widened. “Ossu.” Without another word, he slipped back into the changing room and emerged with the third year manager, Shimizu, in tow. “Shimizu-senpai, this is Iwaizumi-san.”
Shimizu regarded Iwaizumi with an almost uncomfortable level of intensity, which belied her calm and pretty face. Wanting to break the scrutiny, or at least his awareness of it, he bowed. “Kageyama, could you give us a minute?”
Iwaizumi expected Kageyama to object, but the younger boy was surprisingly willing to leave his manager alone with an opponent. However, he was not in a position to complain, as he didn't want any more of an audience than necessary for this regrettable piece of business.
“Shimizu-san, I would like to apologize for what happened before the match, during warm-ups.”
Straightening, Iwaizumi saw her regarding him, but with a different expression. Her soft features were almost leaden, and her eyes narrowed. “No,” she said. He was surprised that her wispy, almost mousy voice was edged in steel.
He felt himself scowl. “May I ask why you won’t accept my apology, Shimizu-san?”
“I won’t accept it because it is neither my place to accept, nor is it your apology to give.”
And now, Iwaizumi was utterly confused. “My badly aimed spike nearly injured your manager kouhai. You obviously saw it, since you blocked the hit.”
“Yes, I saw it.” Is that a snarl? “As I said, it is not your apology Yachi-kun deserves.”
Iwaizumi struggled to figure out exactly how he was misinterpreting this situation. “Is it because she wasn’t looking?” he mused aloud. “That still doesn’t excuse my piss-poor aim.”
Shimizu shook her head in one definitive motion. “Perhaps you should ask your other setter why she wasn’t looking in the first place. Then you will understand.”
Without another word, Shimizu turned and headed back into the Karasuno changing room, a mask of calm draping over her previously agitated face with an almost enviable ease.
Snorting, Iwaizumi turned back to his own locker room to do as Shimizu had directed — have a conversation with Yahaba.
The team was largely as he had left them — lingering in a sweat-soaked stupor. Yahaba lounged dejectedly between Kyoutani and Kindaichi, his head hanging between his knees. Iwaizumi nearly felt bad for disturbing his period of grief, but something about the way Shimizu had become icy made him feel like the matter needed to be handled right away.
“Yahaba,” Iwaizumi barked, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. “Outside. Now.”
The entire room stared as Yahaba followed Iwaizumi out into the hallway, sharing the second year setter’s lack of understanding.
Once they were in the hallway and a good distance away from the Seijou changing room, Iwaizumi crossed his arms, jaw set, and said, “I spoke with Shimizu-san, Karasuno’s manager.”
Part of Iwaizumi hoped that nothing would come of this conversation, but when he saw Yahaba blanch, he had a feeling that it was a fruitless wish. “Talk. Now.”
“I’m sorry, Iwaizumi-senpai!” Yahaba nearly shouted, his eyes squeezed closed as if he bracing for a blow. “I didn’t mean for it to happen.”
With a sigh, Iwaizumi urged, “Didn’t mean for what to happen?”
Head hanging low, Yahaba stammered out an explanation of having thrown a ball just to get Karasuno’s junior manager to chase it, which had caused the distraction Shimizu-san had mentioned.
Iwaizumi had played team volleyball for more than half of his life. Outside of Oikawa, he had never had the urge to strike one of his kouhai as he did at this moment.
“I should wring your neck, Yahaba. That was low,” he ground out, now glad to see the younger boy shrink and flinch even lower. That sort of behavior was something he would expect from Oikawa or even Kyoutani, but never directed towards the slight, doe-eyed girl that he doubted had ever even attended an official match.
He could see Yahaba practically melting into the floor. With a grunt, he hissed, “Get up. You’re coming with me.”
Not waiting for Yahaba to follow of his own accord, Iwaizumi grabbed the setter’s arm and guided him towards the hallway where Karasuno’s dressing room was located, with a little more force than is necessary. Once they arrived, he said flatly, “Stay here.”
His frustration with the situation almost made Iwaizumi forget about how little he wanted to confront anyone on the Karasuno team as he knocked on the door. He was relieved when Shimizu answered the door. “Have a minute?” he asked as he sent a pointed glance towards his now trembling kouhai.
When Shimizu saw Yahaba, Iwaizumi noticed her mouth flattening into that icy, stoic expression as she disappeared back into the dressing room. She was only gone for a few seconds before she re-emerged with a short blonde girl in tow — Yachi, Shimizu had called her. Yachi’s eyes widened when she saw Iwaizumi, and they turned into saucers when they slid behind him and noticed Yahaba.
He immediately felt bad when the girl audibly yelped and stepped behind Shimizu.
Taking a deep breath, Iwaizumi waited for Shimizu to step aside before bowing to Yachi. “Yachi-kun, please accept my apology for the actions of my kouhai. He behaved dishonorably, and it will not happen again.” He stepped back and yanked Yahaba beside him. He felt a rush of gratitude for Yahaba when he noticed the younger boy was already bowing to Yachi.
Iwaizumi moved to the side and found himself standing shoulder to shoulder with Shimizu as he watched this startled girl blink in bewilderment at Yahaba, a hardened athlete who towered over her by at least thirty centimeters.
When Yahaba sank to his knees and began sobbing at Yachi’s feet, Iwaizumi couldn’t think of anything to do but tilt his head and stare.
“I’m so sorry!” he cried. “I just wanted you to look at me because you’re cute, and then you nearly got hurt! I’m embarrassed that I didn’t come find you on my own, that Iwaizumi-senpai had to make me do this, but I’m a shame to my school and to my upperclassmen.”
If the scene before him did not come on this particular day, Iwaizumi feared he would have laughed. A sidelong glance at Shimizu told him that she was at ease and, if he wasn’t mistaken, fighting a smile.
The ball, however, was firmly in Yachi’s court, and Iwaizumi watched her expectantly for her reaction. The girl’s face scrunched like she has eaten something bitter before her high-pitched giggle tinkled down the hallways.
Slapping Yahaba on his shaking shoulder, she said, “No harm done!”
Yahaba’s head jerked up in surprise. “Y-you aren’t mad?”
Yachi, whose face was now flaming red, said, “You thought I was cute! No one’s ever said that to me before.”
Iwaizumi couldn’t help but feel stupefied as he watched Yahaba spring to his feet, blushing furiously and waving his arms. “That is unforgivable, Manager-chan!”
And that, Iwaizumi decided, was enough of that. He could almost feel the second-hand sweetness rotting his teeth. “Yachi-kun, do you accept my idiot kouhai’s apology.”
As if she has forgotten he is there, Yachi staggered away from Iwaizumi. “Y-yes, Scary Ace-san. I forgive him.”
Nodding, Iwaizumi grabbed Yahaba’s collar and said, “Good,” before dragging his stuttering underclassmen back to their own dressing room. “Thank you for your generosity, ladies, and your patience.” Jerking into a curt bow and shoving Yahaba by the neck along with him, Iwaizumi dismissed himself and spared only one backwards glance at Shimizu to see that she was, hopefully, satisfied with the resolution of the situation.
He saw her lips quirk into a slight smile, and for a moment, Iwaizumi understood why Kindaichi fell all over himself when anyone mentioned Karasuno’s female manager.
Turning his attention, albeit reluctantly, back to Yahaba, Iwaizumi growled, “I hope you don’t intend to embarrass me like that again. Next time, I’ll just let Shimizu-san punch you like you deserve.”
Yahaba yelped, “Never, Iwaizumi-senpai! Never!”
Iwaizumi thought as much.
Two Days Later
It was around eight at night as Iwaizumi and Oikawa struggled to study for an exam neither of them could concentrate for, the sting of defeat still clouding their brains, when the text alert on the former’s phone chimed.
Glancing at his phone with a raised brow, Iwaizumi wondered who might be messaging him. Roughly ninety-five percent of his text traffic was Oikawa, who was sitting across from him with equal interest.
“Does Iwa-chan finally have a girlfriend?” Oikawa teased.
Flailing out a leg for a solid kick to Oikawa’s hip, Iwaizumi said, “Shut up, Asskawa.”
He picked up the phone and looked at the caller ID. The number was not one he recognized. Sending one last jab of the foot at Oikawa, who was sneaking sideways to steal a peek, he opened the message. His eyes subsequently shot open in surprise.
This is Shimizu Kiyoko, Karasuno’s manager. I hope you don’t mind that I got your number from Kageyama-kun, but I wanted to thank you for the other night. Yacchan is not afraid of stray balls anymore, and she seems taken with your young setter.
Iwaizumi actually grinned at the message, imagining the spritely Yachi mooning over Yahaba. His mouth still tugged firmly upwards, he keyed a quick response.
Any time, Shimizu-san.
Naturally, he should have known better than to let himself show any sign of happiness. While still reading his own text, Oikawa snatched the phone right out of his hands. “Give it back, Trashkawa! That’s none of your business!”
“Oooohhhhhh,” Oikawa crooned as he squinted at the screen. “Who is this Shimizu?”
Fighting and losing against the urge to punch Oikawa, Iwaizumi thrusted the heel of his palm against his friend’s forehead, smoothly catching his phone as it flew out of the backwards-falling Oikawa’s own grasp.
While Oikawa loudly complained and berated him, Iwaizumi saved the number and hoped that maybe he might meet this silent but dignified girl again.