Chapter Text
When the first years of the Aoba Johsai Boys’ Volleyball Team entered the gym for practice, they saw their captain sprawled out in the middle of one of the courts with that month's edition of Monthly Volleyball covering his face and occasionally letting out a frustrated sigh. The non-sulking third years noticed the rookies’ confusion.
“Don’t worry about that,” said Hanamaki. “This happens every month he doesn’t get asked for an interview.”
“Which is all of them,” added Matsukawa. “Iwaizumi usually deals with it but he had to run back to the clubroom. Just warm up around him.”
“Oh–okay…?” Kindaichi said, doing an exceptionally poor job of not worrying about it.
“Mon dieu, again?” huffed the team manager as she re-entered the gym from the store room, pushing a cart of volleyballs. “Captain, if you don’t get up this instant, I’m going to run you over.”
Oikawa whipped the magazine off his face and glared dramatically. “I’m mourning, okay? Mourning my popularity! Besides, you're supposed to leave the cart on the edge of the court. This is your second year as manager, Kuro-chan, you should know this–Ow! My leg!”
Claudine, having completed her promised detour into the court, pushed the cart to its proper position before spinning around and placing both hands on her hips. “You’re gonna be such a menace if you ever do get an interview with Monthly Volleyball. You already let every bit of attention you get go to your head. If you get a feature in that magazine, you’ll be waving it all over the school.” She started walking back to the storeroom, shaking her hands out on either side of herself to imitate Oikawa’s pregame gesture. “‘Regardez, regardez !’” she recited with a fake cheerfulness. “‘Savez-vous qu'ils ont interviewé pour l'article vedette ce mois-ci ? Bien sûr ! C'est moi ! La star de la grande école Aoba Johsai ! Voici la preuve que je suis un meilleur capitaine que cela UshiWaka !’”
“I don’t sound like that! I don’t even speak French!” Oikawa called after her as he finally hopped to his feet to warm up with his teammates.
“Oui! That’s why I speak French to mock you!”
“Why are you so mean to me?” he pouted.
“She actually sounds just like you, Shittykawa,” said Iwaizumi, who was entering the gym in time to set his bags down and join team warm ups just after Oikawa. “Keep up the good work, Claudine! Couldn’t do it without you!” he shouted
“I know!” Claudine called from the store room.
Oikawa huffed. “Iwa-chan, you and Kuro-chan get along too well.”
“Shut up,” Iwaizumi responded. “What was she after you about, anyway? You weren’t sulking about that damn magazine, again, were you?”
“Iwa-chan, you know I couldn’t care less about who is and isn’t interviewed in Monthly Volleyball … despite the fact that they keep asking Ushi-fucking-Waka who can’t say something interesting to save his life when there are more impressive and skilled and beautiful players in our prefecture that are far more worth the effort of printing stories about. But I won’t name names.”
“... yeah, I’m still gonna kick your ass.”
“Please don’t–OW!”