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The court is filled with the usual muted echo of balls slamming across the floor, paired with the lighter emulation of the sound from the contact across the players' arms. There is the short, high whine of shoes squeaking against the floor and voices calling and encouraging one another with ease as the Karasuno volleyball team practices. Yachi swings her feet at her space on the bench, having already helped organize materials for the usual practice. She readies herself to settle comfortably beside the sidelines and watch the team before realizing a certain lacking presence was disrupting her supposed-to-be-usual afternoon.
Ah! Yachi's sneakers make a sharp slap across the floor as she sits herself upright as a thought bolts through her mind. Where's Kiyoko-san?
She glances about the gym quickly, eyes darting to the area’s upper level as well as the court's storage room, the doors left ajar to reveal an area still absent of the manager. Kiyoko didn’t seem to be present. Yachi huffs a breath, knocking her knuckles against her temple in her exasperation
with herself at noticing so late, and rocks forward to stand on her feet. She turns to Daichi, mouth open to ask for permission to leave, but finds his hand half raised and with a similar expression to her own. He finishes his arm’s movement of waving her to the doorway, granting unspoken agreement to her leave, and turns back to the practice with an amused smile at how they both had the same query about Kiyoko absence in their mind. Yachi dips her head to him in a quick bow and promptly trots out the door, wiggling her fingers in a small wave behind her at the light farewells thrown after her.
Her feet falter after she makes it across the small, roofed crossing area as she suddenly wonders where exactly would Kiyoko be at this time, if not overlooking the volleyball court? Yachi enters the main school building, taking a chance and peeping a glance over a wall to the left hall wing and doesn’t need to look farther as she sees Kiyoko's form. Her back is facing Yachi and she is shifting her weight from foot to foot idly, seeming to be entranced in something going on in the classroom of the entrance she’s hovering beside.
“Kiyoko-san!” Yachi calls happily, almost stumbling over herself as she untangles herself from leaning against the wall. Her shoes skips lightly across the floor as she comes to Kiyoko, who had whipped around, her dark hair arcing across her shoulders and settling with the smallest bounce against her back. Yachi starts on a question, lips pursed to speak, but halts upon finding Kiyoko’s face painted in quiet alarm. The taller girl cocks her head back as if to check the classroom entrance before refocusing on Yachi. She presses an urgent finger to her lips, almost hiding her small smile at Yachi’s bemused demeanor. But the two hear footsteps and nearing conversation coming from inside the classroom and Kiyoko’s expression is suddenly business again. The doorknob behind Kiyoko makes a small metallic sound, as if someone had begun to turn it, and the dark haired girl quickly takes Yachi’s hand and gently tugs her forward, steadying the blonde’s stuttering feet at the sudden movement. She fluidly yanks a nearby door open and pulls them both through the entrance, squeezing in with Yachi and hastily shutting it behind her, wincing at the noticeable noise the wood had made upon closing.
And there Yachi finds herself face to face in a tightly packed closet with her slight (maybe, sort of, kind of, mostly) crush who's focusing on commotion outside with rapt attention. Kiyoko's posture is stretched as if straining to hear the ongoing conversation of the people who had just left the classroom. Yachi mimics the dark haired girl, tuning her listening carefully, and blinks suddenly at the voices she hears.
Takeda-sensei? She thinks, before Kiyoko's gaze snaps to her, meeting her curious eyes, and Yachi realizes she's said her though aloud. It clicks in Yachi's head that Kiyoko had been eavesdropping on the conversation of the teacher. Yachi's absolutely certain it was for no ill means, but her curiosity rises and questions surface of what for, exactly? Was Karasuno able to arrange a practice match with another school? Was there some sort of competition coming up? Was Takeda-sensei going to get married, maybe, and pass down some sort of volleyball luck because of –?
Yachi's train of thought is cut short as Kiyoko breathes a little, "Shh!" through amused, upturned lips and the blonde haired girl is suddenly hit with oh, gosh, Kiyoko looks really, really, even-more pretty up this close. Her glasses are slightly skewed at her sudden means of situating the two in the cramped closet, and she's gazing down on Yachi with eyes positively lit up with a playful thrill. The dim, barely-there light filtering out from under the door catch at Kiyoko’s dark locks and emphasize the natural gloss. Flyaway strands of dark hair have arranged themselves haphazardly across her face, and near her endearing dab of a beauty mark, Kiyoko’s bottom lip is slightly between her teeth as if she's trying to bite back a reckless grin.
“Ah, Kiyoko-san,” Yachi begins in a whisper, dazed, but pauses and shakes her head, ruffling her bangs before she begins again. She’s suddenly struck with the thrill in Kiyoko’s eyes and is unable to stop the breathy, giggling tilt in her hushed voice. “We’ll be staying here for a while, won’t we?”
Her question causes Kiyoko to dip her head down a bit, her eyes darting back to the door. She still has a stifled sort of smile playing at her lips. “I hope you’ll enjoy this choice suite.” Kiyoko replies in a comical, stately tone. She tilts her head back up at Yachi trying to conceal a snort of laughter and shoots the blonde a smile that makes Yachi feel like each particle in the air around them had been called to attention.
There are still talking voices outside the door but Yachi’s can’t be bothered to decipher what they’re saying because the realization she is really, most definitely face to face with Kiyoko crashes like a wreck into her mind again as she can’t help but grin back at the taller girl.
Really, most definitely face to face. Yachi’s thoughts feel like a spinning wheel. Really, really, most absolutely definitely, chest to chest as well.
Oh, jeez.
Yachi unconsciously bunches her hands in the cloth jacket hem near her side. She trains her gaze down - no, wrong down, she switches her eyes to the side and away from their bodies - and stares at the sliver of light below the closed door that’s marred by the shadow of the people outside the closet. Yachi feels a sudden growing nervousness of oh, okay, Kiyoko’s going to feel that she totally doesn’t have a nice body like the taller girl does; Kiyoko could be a swimsuit model with that bust, honestly, and though Yachi’s suddenly self-conscious that Kiyoko might realize she’s kind of not too well endowed, she doesn’t mind the contact, necessarily –
The blonde squeezes her eyes shut, her face flushing, and tries to block the thoughts. Yachi’s ear aches with a ghost pain at how she’d imagine her mother twisting her it at the thoughts if she knew, but her attention’s suddenly elsewhere when she feels Kiyoko thread gentle fingers through her hair, smoothing a stray strand down with a careful hand.
“It’s all right,” the dark haired girl’s voice is soft, misinterpreting Yachi’s sudden anxiety for the notion of being caught by the teachers. “This won’t get us in trouble, don’t worry.”
She flashes Yachi the adventurous smile from before and Yachi feels herself ease up. Right, she remembers. This is Kiyoko-san; the dependent manager and the breath-stealing beauty of a crush, but most importantly, the caring, confident friend. She wouldn’t ever think badly of Yachi, she knows.
Suddenly, Kiyoko’s phone buzzes loudly from her sports jacket pocket, and the two freeze. Kiyoko bites her lip, sucking in a quick breath at the pause of conversation outside the door.
‘“Might need to take that back,” Yachi hears Kiyoko mumble, almost to herself, before she leans closer, her lips close to Yachi’s cheek, as the talking resumes.
“Could you get that? Your hands are closer to it, anyway.”
It’s then that Yachi notices that she’s wearing short sleeves, like she usually does - and the jacket that she’s been gripping the entire time was Kiyoko’s. She bobs her head in a nod, though she feels like she’s radiating a blush even as Kiyoko draws back a bit.
Yachi slips her hand into the dark haired girl’s pocket and pulls out the phone. She presses the ovular button near the bottom to check the screen, letting out a muffled squeak and smacking the back of her head into the wall behind her in surprise at the sharp beam of light the phone had let out at turning on, a stark contrast to the shadowed darkness of inside the closet.
“Are you okay?” Kiyoko’s voice then comes out at just barely below a stage whisper, breathless and barely restrained with laughter. She steadies Yachi’s fumbling, startled grip on the phone with a single hand, the other fanning across the back of Yachi’s head as if to check if she had hurt herself. "That was –” She’s tripping over her words at the hilarity, lips trembling to keep composed. “That was quite a, uh, sound."
"Quite a hollow sound, do you want to say?” Yachi grinds out. Kiyoko withdraws the hand not around Yachi’s wrist and claps it to her mouth to stifle the snicker.
Their short conversation draws quiet as they try to stop the onslaught of sudden laughter. Kiyoko’s grip on the blonde’s wrist tightens with this effort and Yachi quickly swipes across the screen to lower the brightness and set the phone to silent. She slips it quickly back into Kiyoko’s jacket, and glances up, freezing at the mock suggestive gaze Kiyoko was sending her.
“Ah, Hitoka-chan, I take you like the feeling of that pocket?” Yachi chokes over a giggle as Kiyoko continues, voice shifting back to her joking, formal tone. “The taste of one well raised, certainly. The best we have to offer. Though surely, you’re aware of what this means to the progression of our relationship–”
Yachi presses a hand against Kiyoko’s mouth, blocking out the rest and muffle her snickers. Her head ducks and presses against Kiyoko’s shoulder as she shakes with silent laughter.
"Miss!” She says, forehead against Kiyoko. “I'm so deducting that from your tip."
"Was that too forward? We’re here to cater to your liking." Her breath is light on Yachi's ear. "Won't you request something?”
“Do you help fill hollow heads?”
Kiyoko pauses at this. Though her voice switches out of the mock official one and back to her normal tone – soft, and smooth, and elegant-like, and carefully familiar – she continues with their act. “As best as we can and as much as would ever please you.”
They both are silent, their breathing slowing from their previous excitement.
“A diagnostic scan on that last hit, though, says you’ll definitely be getting a lot of service.” Kiyoko adds, lightly, and the two dissolve into another little fit of hysterics.
One of Yachi’s hands rests lightly in Kiyoko’s pocket, and Kiyoko still has gentle fingers on her wrist and an arm draped across her shoulders as their giggles die out and they’re left with the comfortable silence both inside the closet and out in the hall.
Uncertainly, then, as if not wanting to fully break their mellowed atmosphere, they pull apart from each other. Yachi tentatively glances up at Kiyoko’s face and sees she’s flushed from laughing. Her lips are pursed as if to mask a smile and the blonde is filled with a proud, giddy rush upon realizing that yes, Kiyoko felt the same sort of comfortable, affection-driven excitement Yachi felt while being together.
Kiyoko’s returned to her composed self as she carefully opens the door to the closet, glancing about with less caution than Yachi would expect, (love makes one reckless, fearless, a part of Yachi’s mind calls, but Yachi inwardly swats it away) and motions the blonde out with a small smile, her lips quirked at the edges. Yachi thumbs the hem of her shirt in consideration before reaching a hand out and intertwining it with Kiyoko’s. The other girl inconspicuously ducks her head, glancing to the floor in modesty, but she tightens her hold and the two feel light and safe together. The area where their hands meet are warm as they make their way to volleyball practice.
The two stand outside the gym entrance, about to slide the door open, when they hear voices filtering out.
“Where’s Kiyoko-san?”
“And Yacchan! Where’d they leave to?”
“Ah, I believe they might both be busy,” Takeda-sensei – both girls’ eyes widen and they exchange an almost-guilty glance with each other as he trails off, but Yachi sees Kiyoko’s eyes hold more mischief than regret.
(“Our beautiful managers have been whisked off – this is a tragedy, a real emergency!” There’s bickering in exaggerated, maudlin voices to the side as the composed conversation continues.)
“Daichi did tell Yachi to find Kiyoko-san, though.”
(“Ready your ammo!” “Jeez, we just put the balls back, don’t –” “Just watch your senpai; Karasuno never backs down!” “I’m ready!” “Don’t you dare.”)
“And they’re late, huh? That’s unusual.”
Yachi straightens herself with a jolt at the use of ‘unusual’ as Kiyoko catches her gaze again. Yachi’s expression of open shock is comical, and Kiyoko nudges her shoulder as they break into snickers again. They enter the court side-by-side to meet their team’s usual, enthusiastic welcomes.
Usual, Yachi repeats to herself. Her shoulder is pressed against Kiyoko’s and it draws threads of buzzing calmness across the contact. The toes of their shoes are matched evenly next to each other across the shine of the gym floor as they stand and, right now, Yachi feels like it’s the most comfortable word she’d ever come across.