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“Welcome to Aoba Johsai’s Fight Club!” the host, Oikawa Tooru, yells through the microphone.
The crowd yells back, just as eager, several raising their fists too.
Iwaizumi Hajime, the other host, snatches the microphone, biceps flexing under the spotlight. “Rules: Number 1, there is no fight club.” He stares levelly at the crowd and several newcomers snicker, but most of the audience is just as solemn. “Number 2, there are no rules.” This receives a louder shout from the crowd and Iwaizumi smirks. “Welcome to the Fight Club.”
***
Kyoutani Kentarou winces and wipes the blood from his split lip. His fingers come away smeared with red and he grimaces, clenching his fist.
His jaw aches from where he got hit at and he cracks it to loosen up. He rotates his shoulders and readjusts his stance into one more suited for speed.
The crowd grab at Kyoutani, touching his back with dirty hands and pushing him forward. Kyoutani pays no attention to them, his real opponent is the cocky bastard that’s standing in front of him.
Yahaba Shigeru waits for him across the space the crowd has left for them to fight in, wearing that smug grin that Kyoutani wants to beat off his face. His fists are also clenched, knuckles wrapped in bandages and stance strong. His eyes are amused.
Adrenaline thrum in his muscles and Kyoutani takes in a shuddering breath. His eyes flash with the intent of victory and he charges, fist swinging with every ounce of his strength.
***
People surge around him, almost stepping on his fingers as he struggles to get up in the least painful way. They clamour with the hosts to be the one to face Yahaba next, compelled by their urge to defeat the champion of tonight’s fight.
When he does gets his fingers stepped on, Kyoutani swears loudly and snatch them back to his chest. He stumbles and half-pushes people out of the way. When he finally reaches the locker room, he immediately goes to the last locker on the bottom and unlocks the lock as quickly as he can.
He automatically reaches for his bag and curses when he knocks something over. He prays that it isn’t what he thinks it is and bloody fingers close around something cold.
“Damn it,” he swears.
There’s a glass vase in his fist, complete with a single blood red rose and a little water at the bottom. Kyoutani’s stomach drops, not just because of the flower. A glance at his belongings in the locker confirms his suspicions and he swears for what’s probably the fiftieth time this night.
As much as Kyoutani wants to throw the vase and flower across the room to see it smash into the concrete wall, his shoulder is protesting so he sets it gingerly on the bench and grabs his bag.
Most of the water from the vase has emptied itself on Kyoutani’s clothes and Kyoutani grimaces when he pulls out his only shirt. It’s soggy from flower water but it’s better than his current bloody one.
After a reasonable amount of curse words and a considerable amount of awkward movements, the bloody shirt is taken off and Kyoutani can finally start to put on the cleaner one.
After another 10 minutes of struggling, Kyoutani is in his new (wet) shirt and ready to contribute to the locker room’s already beaten and dented lockers.
But the door swings open and Kyoutani spins around, murder in his eyes and ready to fight because well… it is a fight club. Even if the only official fights are in the main hall, fistfights in the locker room are common. (Hence the dented lockers.)
Only except it’s Yahaba and whatever beating Kyoutani has planned is thrown out the window because he has a special kind of arrangement for Yahaba.
“You! It’s your fault!” Kyoutani said accusingly.
Yahaba has the nerve to look like he has no idea what Kyoutani is talking about. Until…
“Oh!” Yahaba suddenly exclaims. “Oh…”
“Yes!” Kyoutani growls and he crosses his arms, ready for whatever apologizing Yahaba is going to give.
“I’m sorry for whatever bruises you might have gotten, but it was you who challenged me in the first place.” Yahaba shrugs and strides towards his locker, fiddling with the lock.
That was not what Kyoutani was expecting.
“Wha- no!” Kyoutani sputters. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
Yahaba looks confused and that’s what tips Kyoutani over the edge. He swings a fist at Yahaba and there’s no way Yahaba didn’t anticipate that because he then ducks and then comes up to use Kyoutani’s own force to pin him against the lockers with his forearm.
It’s a fine example of how Yahaba beat him in the earlier fight and Kyoutani swings another fist but Yahaba’s quick to pin that hand too.
“What are you so worked up about?” Yahaba asks, breath a little too close for Kyoutani’s liking.
“The flower!”
Yahaba raises an eyebrow. “What flower?”
Kyoutani jerks with his head to the best of his ability.
Yahaba finally sees the mentioned flower and just like all the other times, he blushes.
“Oh yeah… will you go out with me?”
Kyoutani almost says no again. Almost.