Work Text:
University is a scam.
If Sakusa Kiyoomi ever put his Japanese linguistics degree to use and write a proper thesis, he would do a whole research on the nugatory of the high-level education institution and its blasphemy of a system. He would end his conclusion with a warning for everyone to stay the fuck away from it while they still have the chance.
No matter what any lackluster adult says, university is a scam that will leech money and time off its victim. Getting a degree in this economy is practically begging for a lifetime of endless debt and yearning for death.
There are plenty of reasons why Kiyoomi would rather go to jail for committing arson on his university than going through it but the cherry on top is that his university had the brilliant idea to charge all students of full payment for the upcoming semester before classes start instead of the usual at the end of the semester in order for them to be considered an active student.
Hence, Kiyoomi spent his whole break working his ass off to be able to afford the fee and barely got any rest or sleep.
The product of his unusual and unhealthy schedule causes him to start daydreaming in class when he should be focusing on his lectures. Fortunately for him, the class he’d chosen to doze off in is a mandatory introduction to communication in English language level 1, which is just another fancy way of saying “Here, go learn elementary school level of English. If you fail this, you’re a failure. ”
(Because, of course, the fault of a student’s failure is solely on the student themself and not the substandard education system.)
Kiyoomi is a diligent student though. His English-speaking ability is excellent and he can at least get a B without any studying. But that’s a concern for future Kiyoomi. For now, he picks the class as the best time to indulge in a three-hour uninterrupted daydreaming session.
Three hours is a really long time, especially for someone whose attention span is dreadful. So, Kiyoomi would always find his attention wavering by the first half an hour mark.
Again, if the people behind the education system would actually take the time to understand that a human’s attention span differs per person, maybe Kiyoomi wouldn’t think university is such a scam. It’s the bare minimum. ( That’s not true. Regardless, Kiyoomi would alway think university is a scam. He will die on this hill.)
Anyway, Kiyoomi isn’t actually much of a creative guy but he does consume a lot of anime, the occasional novels that trended on tiktok and JPOP also has a vice grip on him. He dared to say these three are the best combination in the world. (He will not think about how much of a nerd that’ll make him sound.)
Hence, his daydreaming often consists of putting a few of his favorite idols in the world of some random media hyperfixation of his. You know, like a loser.
Arguably, anything is better than listening to the monotonous droning of his lecturer who tends to read off the slides as if her students don’t have eyes that can read them. University is a SCAM.
Sanemi Sensei seems to think her class is as interesting as the world ending but Kiyoomi is much more interested in the storyline he’s got dancing around in his head.
Does he know what’s actually going on in the world he built? No, but Michieda Shunsuke is about to profess his love for Meguro Ren in the middle of an intense sword fight that’s actually sword fighting and not in the gay way of sexual intercourse.
“--An example of this is the nickname ‘Dick’ which is typically derived from the name Richard.”
“I love– Dick .” The Meguro Ren in his head echoes.
Kiyoomi flinches from the laughter that erupted around him and the bizarre dialogue that slipped in his musing.
He blinks rapidly, returning his attention from cloud nine. Kiyoomi doesn’t understand what’s going on but Sanemi Sensei seems unfazed by the immature guffaws of her students. He hears his seatmates murmuring about the example she’d given and finally understands the interruption.
From the looks on Sanemi Sensei’s face, she hadn’t meant it to be funny.
Kiyoomi sighs quietly, annoyed that his daydreaming session got interrupted. His ears picked up a matching sound from behind him and he couldn’t stop himself from looking through the corner of his eyes.
A blond student slouching over his table in a row behind him on the right aisle has an amused smile on his pretty face. His dark eyebrows furrowed deep, bringing attention to his gleaming honey brown eyes– Miya Atsumu, Kiyoomi recalls his name.
He’s surprised that the popular athlete didn’t laugh like the rest of their classmates. Miya Atsumu is always at the center of a crime scene, the one people would follow like a trend because of his sheer brilliance and influence.
Their eyes meet and Kiyoomi flinches, gaze snapping back upfront before the guy could call him out for staring. Now that he’s aware of the guy, Kiyoomi can feel him drilling holes in the back of his head.
Stop looking at me. He pleads, knowing for sure that the warmth he feels on his ears means that they are as red as tomatoes, even with his curly hair hiding them.
It’s hard to go back to daydreaming when someone is blatantly staring at him so Kiyoomi sits ramrod straight as he pretends to listen to the last half an hour lecture. Nobody would know that Miya Atsumu’s stare makes all his thoughts scramble in Prayers and Panic.
The double P , which is something the Michieda Shunsuke and Meguro Ren in his head should be doing in his head instead of the mess that came from being aware of the most desired guy of their university.
Kiyoomi hears a snort, which isn’t as subtle as Miya Atsumu thinks he’s being, and feels his ears burn hotter.
Kiyoomi is not a bad student.
University is just shit.
It’s not his fault that he didn’t get an A for the first test for the stupid mandatory English-for-dummies class. No, this is not the case of him unable to take accountability for his own grades. The blame is entirely on the stupid class and the fancy new way of assessing students continuously instead of final exams like the past.
Who the fuck decided traditional solution doesn’t work for modern problems anyway? He frowns, staring intently at the numbers on his test. This would put a dent on his overall grade by the end of the semester. Kiyoomi is sulking, he knows but as much as he hates to come off as a nerd, he actually values his academic achievements.
The Michieda Shunsuke and Meguro Ren in his head are whining at him to pick up the storyline he’d made for them over the weeks. Kiyoomi flips them off mentally. It’s all your fault, you horny bastards. He sulks, crossing his arms across his chest.
He hears another snicker, and Kiyoomi is far too grumpy to not ignore it this time. He turns around to shoot Miya Atsumu a glare, and all plans of not interacting with the athlete gets thrown out of the window.
“What’s your problem?” Kiyoomi scowls under his mask.
Atsumu isn’t surprised by his reaction at all, which only aggravates him more.
“Why are ya upset that ya got a B+? Aren’t ya already too smart for this class?”
Kiyoomi furrows his eyebrows, confused now more than pissed. How did he know..?
“I can see yer paper from my chair, y’know.” Atsumu says a-matter-of-factly. “And I heard that yer a consistent dean lister. Gossip vine is helpful.”
What the fuck. Did he read my mind?
Atsumu’s grin widens, if that’s even possible.
“So..?” Kiyoomi retorts warily.
“Teach me!” Atsumu declares. He holds up his own test paper, which bears a C on the top of his name. “If I fail this class, I’ll lose my sports scholarship and I really don’t want that to happen at all.”
Kiyoomi glances at the door, wondering if he could make a run for it.
“Ya can’t leave, Omi-kun. Class ain’t over yet!”
What. the. fuck. Miya Atsumu is either a mind reader or crazy observant. Kiyoomi wants to find out.
“What do I get out of this?” He sighs, his curiosity piqued.
“I’l owe ya, and ya can ask me to do anything.” Atsumu says, without a hint of hesitation.
“How are you sure that I wouldn’t ask you to do something that would bite you?”
Atsumu doesn’t waver, “‘Cause I’ll know.”
Freak. Kiyoomi thinks, and doesn’t miss the way Atsumu’s hands on the table flinching.
“Fine.” He agrees, almost too easily. “We’ll start this weekend.”
“Aight! I’ll text ya later!”
Kiyoomi doesn’t bother asking if Atsumu even has his number. From how popular he is, he wouldn’t be surprised if he could get it from Sanemi Sensei. Speaking of, in the most impeccable timing, their lecturer finally continues their lessons. As usual, Kiyoomi doesn’t focus and his mind starts straying off.
This time, his imagination doesn’t start with Michieda Shunsuke and Meguro Ren engaging in a sword fight (the other sword fight), but MIya Atsumu instead. Kiyoomi scowls, grateful that his mask is hiding his face again. He hears the familiar snicker from behind but pointedly does not turn around.
Great, now he can’t daydream, Uni still fucking sucks and he ended up in MIya Atsumu’s radar.
The semester is really out to get him, huh?