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IN ALL HIS YEARS OF BEING ALIVE, Tsukishima has always found idiots to be irritating. It’s a small wonder to him that he turns his nose at the likes of Hinata and Nishinoya immediately upon their first meeting. He’d learned early on that this archetype of people leaned on the boisterous and nonsensical side of exasperating characters.
It grates on him, this bumbling, buffoonish tomfoolery—and he wants absolutely nothing to do with their species.
So why, exactly, does he suddenly find himself drawn to this air-headed and gullible Nekoma student who’s not even technically part of their team and thus has nothing to do with the training camp, yet is here anyway?
The case study writes itself: Tsukishima Kei, known cynic and hater with zero tolerance for bullshit, presents an unexpected behavioral deviation when he becomes notably captivated by a female subject whose personality is marked by exuberance and a lack of maturity despite being in the year level above him.
The first fated meeting occurs in the most exasperating circumstance possible, too, which only furthers the impossible nature of his attraction. Picture this: Tsukishima—who makes it his sole mission to reject any and all attempts by certain third-year captains to coax him into getting some after-hours individual practice—wishes nothing more than to retire to his futon and sleep the fatigue away until another day of this training camp hell has come and gone, yet as luck would have it, he is suddenly hit in the face so hard by said female subject who, for the record, turns out to be surprisingly strong, that his nose ends up bleeding from the force.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. Truth be told, Tsukishima generally considers himself to be above the vulgar goings-on of cursing, for there are far more creative ways for one to express their agitation and indeed his vocabulary is quite extensive that he is able to do such a thing with ease, but if he could point out any situation that calls for such strong terminologies, it is definitely this one.
“Oh mah—I’m so sorry!” comes a loud, eardrum-shattering squeal from the perpetrator herself. There’s the sound of footsteps rushing toward him, and the next thing he knows, Matsumiya Natsuko is pushing his hands away from his own nose and lifting his chin so she can get a good look at his face. “You’re bleeding!”
“I think you can figure that out without touching my face, thanks,” he snaps, pulling away. Without bothering to wait for her response, he goes on his way to the nurse’s office. This late in the night, he’s not sure if it’s even open, but he supposes it’s worth checking out. Besides, as far as he’s aware, schools are required to have their medical staff working overtime for training camps such as this—especially when it involves sports.
Thankfully, the school nurse is, in fact, inside, and she tends to his bleeding nose while scolding him for not being careful enough. Tsukishima can’t be bothered to correct her and say that it isn’t his fault, so instead he tunes out her nagging and instead turns his thoughts back to that girl, Matsumiya.
She’s definitely something, alright. Tsukishima had actually noticed her even before the incident occurred because she was, just like Hinata and Nishinoya, and everyone else in the world whose personalities revolve around bumbling, buffoonish tomfoolery, incredibly loud and impossible to ignore.
From the start, his impression of her had not been very flattering—now, in the aftermath of that incident, it’s only plummeted down to worse levels.
And yet, despite himself and his distaste for such a troublesome species, he strangely begins to catch himself noticing her presence first in every room that he walks into—and, he belatedly realizes, it’s not because she’s so loud or so eye-catching.
Ah, well. He can’t exactly explain it either, which thus becomes the crux of his case study.
The second time they interact is far more pleasing than the previous scenarios. In fact, it is the very situation that makes Tsukishima consider rethinking his once-permanent stance on Matsumiya and perhaps the rest of her kind. See, for all intents and purposes, Tsukishima Kei has always held the notion that the less-utilized your brain cells are, the worse your music taste becomes. After all, there are multiple studies throughout the years that show the interconnection between music and cognitive function—and he’s heard the things simpletons like Hinata enjoying listening to, and he does not care for such nonsense.
So, it comes as yet another surprise to him when it turns out that Matsumiya’s greatest pride and badge of honor is her admittedly impeccable taste in music, if Tsukishima allows himself to be completely honest.
It’s the morning after the incident, and Tsukishima has at last managed to snag some alone time in the dining hall. He’s sitting by the window, when the worst thing to ever happen to all of humanity happens to him—the audio jack of his wired headphones suddenly ceased its operations and decided to forgo the one purpose it’s designed to do, which is to fucking function.
That’s twice he’s cursed in his head during this camp—it must be something in the Tokyo air. Oh, how he longed to return home and have this fixed. He’s already dreading the boring, music-less drive back home.
“Woah, this song’s amazin’,” Matsumiya suddenly pipes up. Tsukishima had been too preoccupied with his headphone jack to notice her passing by. Now, she slides onto the seat next to him. “Who’s it by?”
He has no intention of answering, yet his mouth moves before his mind can send it warning signals. “A band called Oisicle Melonpan,” he finds himself saying.
The sparkle in her eyes that follows is an entity of its own merit, and the first of many that preludes what would soon become an hour-long conversation of their favorite bands.
“Well now, I gotta say—you got yourself a fine taste in music there, Tsukki-kun!” she says excitedly, and though Yamaguchi’s supposed to be the only person he could remotely tolerate being called that nickname by, now he finds that he doesn’t really mind. Perhaps her appreciation of one of his favorite bands has softened his impression of her.
“I didn’t think you’d be the type to enjoy this kind of music, Matsumiya-san,” he says—and the politeness of his tone is a stark contrast to the way he had snapped at her yesterday, but this disposition does not have to seem its intended effect, for Matsumiya makes a face, cheeks flushed.
“Now, hold on—don’t you go callin’ me that,” she says with a fervent shake of her head. “Please, just call me Natsuko!”
“I’d really rather not…” he starts to say, but apparently, Matsumiya is not interested in any of it.
“I insist!” she exclaims. “Listen here—I didn’t rightly get to apologize proper for hittin’ you with that ball last night, so let me do it now. I’m real sorry, alright? I sure hope you’re feelin’ better too, though from the looks of ya, you’re doin’ just fine and don’t seem to have any other hurt on ya. Anyhow, what’s your favorite track from this band? You ever heard of Indigo la End?”
Needless to say, Tsukishima got whiplash from that alone, but really—it feels nice being able to talk to someone about music like this, even if she’s too hyper for his low-energy self. Indeed, Matsumiya Natsuko is a strange character. It is not because of her bumbling, buffoonish tomfoolery—no, Tsukishima thinks there is enough of that in Japan alone to go around the world twice. Rather, Matsumiya is odd because of her effects on Tsukishima himself.
Perhaps this should have been his tell-tale sign that Matsumiya would soon change his life for the better. Already, even now, she’s begun to leave her footprints in the sands of his life.
Don’t get him wrong—Tsukishima Kei still hates idiots. That much he’s certain, and it isn’t something he plans on changing anytime soon. The world is full of them, after all—loud and careless and entirely too much. But in the days to come, Tsukishima would find that being with her brings not the familiar sense of irritation he’s used to, but something more closely associated with fondness.
Maybe Matsumiya would always be part of the archetype Tsukishima normally regards with disdain—but somehow, she’s become the one exception he doesn’t mind keeping.