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“You think you’re so funny,” Kiyoomi practically spit out, nearly throwing Miya Atsumu into a wall of the empty locker room. “You think you’re just hilarious.”
Grinning, Atsumu squinted his eyes, a complementary sneer painted across his own face like he wasn’t the one with his shirt in Kiyoomi’s white-knuckled fist. “I’m a natural comedian, what can I say? Ya haven’t even seen me pull out my best jokes yet.”
