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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 4 months

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Someone Worth Loving | Yandere!Imayoshi Shouichi

for anon who asked "in which a popular s/o was the crush of imayoshi in first year until there year, but s/o didn't want to be tie down so they just play around, and yan! imayoshi was a delusional to think that he's special. i think imayoshi will be very oc, so feel free to change something hehe. i love your writing style and works" this was fun to write, challenging but also a good chance to have a think about yandere!imayoshi further and outside my usual box for him. he's not particularly delusional here - i just can't see someone as socially aware and intelligent as ima being a delusional yandere. but i figured the combination of a) him not being a control freak and being pretty laidback; having that darker side, but also not wanting people to perceive him as evil unlike hanamiya + b) probable abandonment/grief issues after losing his mum + c) liking prim and proper girls = a more intriguing and unique yandere than i usually give him credit for. so thanks for the ask anon, and without further ado... content warning for slight explicit-ness. this is a yandere fic - it's not romance, and it's written accordingly.

It was love at first sight for Imayoshi.

On that fatal first day, you skipped through the doors of the Touou classroom that you would share with Imayoshi for the next three years, holding hands with a ‘friend’ you had befriended just minutes prior (whom, Imayoshi already understood, would be forgotten about as soon as someone more suitable appeared to take her place), asking her where they should sit.

The other girl pointed to two empty desks near the front. That was when you let go of her hand.

“I just have to sit by the windows,” you said, not at all apologetically, as if it was a given, not even sparing a second glance at the girl beside you - her eyes a little wide, almost a touch teary as she realised that she was already being demoted to rank of Friendless First Year.

There was only one seat left near the windows. They’d have to split up. And the remaining chair was by fellow first year Imayoshi, who was pulling a pen out his backpack, pondering whether to ignore you or put on a show of bored confidence and do introductions.

As he pondered, you sat down beside him. Your knee briefly pressed against his. Then panicked, pulled away. You looked around the classroom as if you were ignoring your seatmate by accident, just curious about all the new faces. You had felt the sparks too.

It took only this long - just those few seconds - for Imayoshi to stumble across realisations that would affect the rest of his life.

(1) For all that confidence you showed off - confidence that, as you grew older, would become glam and men double your age wrapping their arms around your shoulders - you were an insecure coward like the crowds of girls who looked up to you from the distance.

(2) Imayoshi was feeling something. At the time, he called it curiosity; it would take later introspections for it to be correctly labelled as love.

Not that there was much reason to love you, at the beginning anyway. Though the two of you talked often, quick conversations in at least a couple classes a day, they were nothing but the usual seatmate discussions. You, an idiot, had cottoned onto the fact that Imayoshi was breezing through every class. You put on your usual batting-eyelashes persona, cutesy obsequiousness (“I’m so sorry to bother you again, but for number 13...”) punctuated with meaningless sweet-nothings (“Honestly, Shouichi, you’re the best. I love you.”), and who was he to deny your requests for help?

Of course, with anyone else, Imayoshi would have gotten fed up by now - the occasional question was fine, but in almost every lesson? - yet it was cute how you thought you could rely on him. Like you seriously believed that him talking you through integrating exponentials meant you could trust him.

When he’d walk into the classroom at break, while you were sat gossiping with all your girlfriends (an ever-expanding plague of copycats, B-rate versions of you), they’d all stop talking but you.

You’d say, “don’t worry about him - that’s my bestie, Shouichi. He’s literally saving my grade right now.”

And then everyone would go back to gossiping, and you’d flash him a quick smile, and Imayoshi would never comment on how he technically hadn’t given you permission to use his first name, or on how it was so fucking stupid of you to dismiss him as the nerd who let you copy his answers sometimes. Like he didn’t have ears; like he was just one of your pawns; like he didn’t own you.

Okay, that was an exaggeration. Maybe. But Imayoshi did in fact have ears, and he was a being with agency who overheard plenty of gossip and rumours, gossip that could destroy your sweet little reputation - not to mention your relationship with your parents - if he so chose. The fact that he didn’t was chivalry in action. Anyone else would have faced his bored wrath - he’d already manipulated a few rumours such that you had discarded one of your close friends on account of them.

Yet, for the time being, he was content letting you bathe in the sunlight.

After all, he couldn’t have his future wife kicked out of school for being a pathetic, needy slut who couldn’t let a party finish without having at least slammed her lips on at least one total stranger.

If you got expelled, you wouldn’t be in the yearbook. And then what would the two of you reminisce over, twenty years from now, cuddling on the sofa?

So he tried to be content with observing you, playing his part as the polite nerd, and it worked for over a year. There were highs (you cheering him on during the final basketball match in your first year); there were lows (you had brought some brainless baseball jock to the match). But Imayoshi endured. Imayoshi took his time. Imayoshi let you gush over how happy you were to be sitting next to him again in your second year - “you’re my guardian angel, Shou-chan”. Imayoshi turned a blind eye to the partying and the boys, who lingered by the classroom door hoping to catch sight of you, and the never-ending stream of friends, and the way you’d smile at him like you adored him, only to switch it off as soon as the class was over. As soon as you had no more use for him.

Imayoshi, mature for his age, understood that he couldn’t make you who he wanted you to be overnight. Unfortunately, it seemed that girls like you just had to go through this phase.

It was in the third year that things went downhill.

When it rains, it pours. On the first day of term, you hadn’t greeted him when you entered the classroom, too busy texting frantically on your phone, a new fluffy pink keychain dangling from it that didn’t match any of your girl friends’ and so had to be a gift from a stranger.

Imayoshi had greeted you, of course.

But when you had looked up briefly to smile and say hi back, he had been demoted: "Shouichi" instead of "Shou-chan".

You were working harder than before too. Suddenly, the two of you were working in silence side by side, your hair falling over your face, hiding it from Imayoshi. You never once tucked it behind your ear to ask Imayoshi for the answers to the next section. You just sat and wrote away, like you fancied yourself the best in the class now. Clearly, you’d been studying over the holiday. Fine. Good even - Imayoshi couldn’t marry a complete fool, even an obedient housewife needed some brains. But to reject him because of it? Discard him like all the other toys you got bored of using?

He felt his anger swell and spin in a strength of feeling he had not known since his mother died. Murder occurred to him; abduction no longer seemed unreasonable. He tucked away duct tape and rope and sleeping pills in a shelf his sister could not reach, locked it for good measure, and spent his nights tossing and turning and questioning his own identity.

He heard rumours you were in trouble. Kicked out the house, financial issues, an abortion: almost everything got mentioned. Someone had a friend whose mum was a cop, and apparently you’d been visiting the police station following a domestic violence case, a prostitution case, or maybe just a mugging. The specifics were unclear and frequently changed, but Imayoshi took sight of the bruises on your neck and arms, just visible under layers of concealer, and on he went pondering.

He would never get the truth out of you directly, no. These days, whenever he entered the classroom at break, you and your few remaining trusted friends whispered until he left. The trust was gone; and the gossip no longer appropriate for male ears to hear.

A complete stranger would have been treated in the same way. A stranger.

He’d put so much work into you, spent two years as a loyal servant, letting you feel smug and superior, and this was what he fucking got for it?

"Imayoshi was not rash," he told himself.

"Imayoshi wants to be rash," his reflection parroted back to him.

“Imayoshi?” called Susa, nudging him in the middle of a study session, “you okay?”

“Tired,” replied Imayoshi, realising that the page in front of him was still empty.

He smiled an easy smile, and forced the thought of you out of his mind before he snapped his pencil in two.

----

And “he’s tired” was what Susa repeated when Harasawa, fiddling with his hair, asked why Imayoshi acting a bit out of it today.

The coach glanced at Imayoshi with critical eyes, and saw a stranger in him. “Do you want to take a break?”

“I’ll be alright.“ Imayoshi forced the familiar grin across his lips yet again. “Some match play will wake me up.”

The last thing he needed was some time away from basketball. For every minute he wasn’t concentrating on the game, he was thinking of you smiling at male ‘friends’, you cuddling up with police officers, you flirting with strangers on the street, you and that miniskirt you wore everywhere outside of school and the men who would stare and you feeding into their attraction, and they’d put a hand around your waist and let their fingers slip underneath your tights, and they’d murmur “hotel?” to you, and you’d rub up against them and-

Sakurai passed the ball to Imayoshi, and the captain dribbled and felt a moment’s peace. He passed it back to Wakamatsu, standing ready under the hoop-

You’d be pulling off your clothes real slow, really teasing them, and they’d be touching and licking and sucking on that skin that belonged to Imayoshi alone. They’d throw you to the bed; you squeal, maybe whimper at the big bad man standing in front of you. God you’d be noisy, slut that you are - you wouldn’t talk to Imayoshi any more but you wouldn’t shut up for these salarymen (why did Momoi have to mention that word on the street was you were in the JK business now? If hearing of you being with classmates wasn’t torture enough!), even when you were gagging you’d be crying out, tears in your eyes, and maybe they beat you, maybe they ground into you until you couldn’t walk, your underwear ripped, miniskirt stained around your hip, lying hopelessly on a bed in an empty room, your skin littered with both hickeys and bruises.

Maybe you’d pray for a better life. The audacity to pray having spent all these years betraying him.

“Are you sure everything’s alright?” muttered Susa in the changing room, briefly squeezing his friend's shoulder.

Imayoshi looked around feeling like he’d awoken from a nightmare.

Everyone but Imayoshi had long finished changing out of their kit. People were talking, laughing, bouncing a spare basketball against the wall. Aomine, despite being a known virgin, was proudly announcing his list of the easiest lays in the school. Your name came in at number two. And before Imayoshi could ask Aomine how he knew that if all he spent his free time doing was jerking off to magazine pages, Wakamatsu interjected.

Wakamatsu told Aomine not to talk about you like that.

Wakamatsu was blushing.

"You fucking siren," murmured Imayoshi under his breath, thinking of the way you used to bat your eyelashes at him.

Something about the blonde made Imayoshi see mistakes like never before. God himself couldn’t have made it any clearer. Imayoshi had let you run wild for too long, and in your own sickness you had diseased everyone else too. You had brought shame to yourself, and - worse - to the Imayoshi name that you would one day take on as your own.

It was time to remind you to whom you belonged. Maybe, just maybe, it wouldn’t be too late to make you an honourable housewife, an obedient little dog.

“You still there?” said Susa with a little more concern, nudging Imayoshi again.

“Don’t worry,” and this time Imayoshi didn’t need to force that closed-eye, cruel grin. “I’ve got something to sort out, and then I’ll be back to normal.”

He would teach you that he had never been your toy.

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 5 months

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the boys as bodyguards

dedicated to absolutely no one. sure this is an asks blog - does that mean i have to actually answer them? i know i know bad admins bad admins whatcha gonna do whatcha gonna do when they come for you but i had a dream ages ago now that involved bodyguards, tsunamis, and also a shit ton of murder. don't ask. anyway, it got me pondering. and then it took literal months to write this so i figured i'd post what i've got so far, and maybe i'll update with the rest of the boys later, depending on how well this does/how much time i have

hanamiya makoto

hanamiya’s the package deal

he’s the chief advisor; he’s the doctor; he’s the bodyguard; he’s the sniper. just a right hand man in every way possible.

i mean, he’s not literally your right hand man: he’s the leader of a team, and often it’ll be one of his men there next to you at events, but he’s always supervising or coordinating or collecting intel

ie he’s dedicated to his job. he does like engineering spider’s webs after all.

having said that, he’s also an uncontrollable prick

he’s the best at giving you advice, both in terms of navigating high society and in terms of actual business advice, but is he going to give that advice without slipping in a snide comment about how you should really know all this by now? when you tell him to make sure to take a break some time, is he going to stop himself from saying “maybe if you weren’t so incredibly useless on your own, i’d be able to.”

and sure maybe he’s breaking the universal declaration of human rights with what he does to the people who dare to try harm you, but you don’t know about that

need to know basis type beat

you don’t even have access to the full floor plans of your own property, which includes a basement you’ll never know about, let alone step foot in. hanamiya keeps that information very close to his chest.

gotta make sure his employer has plausable deniability

gotta make double sure that you don’t find out about half the things he does - from the ways he sources his information, to his very dodgy organised crime links, to the number of people that have sadly lost their lives in the name of “fuck it, you’re pissing me off” - because he hates when you bang on about bullshit like “laws” and “morals”

after all, if everyone followed your beloved laws and morals, then you’d have no need for his services

as he always tells you, he’s just your pet necessary evil

yamazaki hiroshi

i reckon he only got into the bodyguard business because he spent his childhood wanting to be a samurai but, well you know, that’s not really a job opportunity anymore

what it does mean though is that he’s all about bushido: mastering his work, bravery, honesty, etc - and above all else loyalty to one’s employer

on a random thursday afternoon, he’ll tell you, completely nonchalantly, straight face, “i would die for you if that’s what it takes. on my life, i’ll always keep you safe.”

you’re staring at him like wtf and/or trying to stop yourself blushing, but he thinks that’s a completely normal thing to say cause he’s just following bushido

of course, late one night, he’ll wake up realise how weird that came across and he’ll spend the next week trying not to blush whenever you talk to him

just like the time he spent a week kicking himself after you walked in on him training, shirtless and rather sweaty, and when you told him he should take a break, he said “but i need to train so my body can be at its best for you”

again, at the time that sounded very reasonable, serious, and totally bushido to him. it’s only later that he’s freaking out in his room like why in god’s name did he say that.

but hey that’s bodyguard!yamazaki for you. a little weird, a little socially inept, but loyal to a fault

haizaki shougo

can you imagine the number of jobs that this man has lost for sleeping on the job?

he’s only got his current gig looking after you because his prices are cheaper and you were getting desperate to find someone in your budget

he’s a ...uhh… unique bodyguard? in the sense that he’ll get you out of harms way eventually, but "eventually" is the key word there

haizaki actively ignores intel that a certain location might be dangerous, because he really just wants to get into fights. sure you might get in the way occasionally, maybe even get some nasty bruises, but hey you get what you pay for.

you want a good bodyguard, save up some money, idiot.

literally the only reason he got into being a bodyguard is so he can beat people up legally (and because he got dishourably discharged from the military); he doesn’t care that much about the whole ‘protecting’ side of things

he’s also the type to ditch you the minute a better paying job comes up (possibly combat work as a mercenary). however he’s not as cold-hearted as he may seem, and he’ll happily spend a day of leave breaking into your penthouse

so that when you return in the evening, he’s there sat on an armchair, grinning smugly, “man your security’s turned to shit since i left.”

shortly followed by, “miss me?”

jason silver

jason’s the quintessential bodyguard, cause, after all, having a very muscular 6’11 man follow you everywhere you go isn’t exactly subtle

but he’s recognisable for other reasons as well.

like the fact that he’ll accompany you to formal balls, and he’ll be the only man there with an undone tie - it’s such a massive argument trying to get him to wear an appropriate suit instead of his usual hoodies and sweatpants, that can anyone blame you for not having the energy to insist he stops undoing his tie as well?

he’s also not exactly one for professionality. like you’ll be minding your business, trying to network, and suddenly you’ll hear a wolf whistle by your ear and a “wouldn’t mind me a bit of that”

“jason, that’s the ambassador to norway. we’re having her over for dinner next week, so, with all due respect, shut the fuck up. and whisper next time, for heaven’s sake! what if someone had heard you?”

“shit, is it a crime to like some nice tits in this economy?”

and when you glare at him, genuinely furious, he grins, puts his hands up, and says, “sorry, sorry. forgot you don’t like me having eyes for anyone else, boss.”

but don’t get me wrong, jason’s not all evil contra to fujimaki’s propaganda

he is an incredibly good bodyguard - those animal instincts really help him out when it comes to getting you out of a sniper’s line of sight, or saving you from a bullet, or just assessing a room for potential entry points. and he packs a mean punch if anyone tries to try something on you, a solid ko.

no one’s getting past him essentially

the only problem is that it’s incredibly difficult to thank jason for saving your life, cause the last thing he needs is an ego boost or feeling like you owe him.

“seriously jason. i don’t know how i can ever repay you.”

“usually the payslip’s enough,” he smirks, “but you know that little lady ambassador-“

unsuprisingly, he’s not invited to the dinner.

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 5 months

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yes.

no but i wish. absolutely drowning in work, both work work and hobby pet projects that are being suffocated by the former. like it's gotten to the point where i've been trying to write a hc post in my spare time and i manage - get this - one bullet point a week. i was planning on doing some halloween posts on here, then ran out of time, and now i don't think i've got enough time to do something for christmas either, and don't get me started on missing seto and haizaki's bdays for the first time in years. hopefully i'll get some time in christmas to write something but if i don't: happy belated halloween, early seasons greetings, and happy new year if i'm not back by then.

#but i'll return one day #probably #hopefully #chat asks

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 9 months

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Could you please do some head canons for pro player! Nash X single mom! Reader (Nash is in his early 30s and reader is slightly younger and has s toddler)?

pro!nash has been used to having 100% of his s/o’s attention in previous relations - relationships where the girl drops everything when he calls - so dating a single mum is a bit of a culture shock to say the least

but he’s not a particularly jealous sort, especially not when the ‘opponent’ is a 2 year old, and he likes dating someone who has their own life and responsibilities and isn’t always clinging to him

the only problem is that it’s hard finding time to meet up

he’s either practicing or travelling to matches, and you’ve not got much time spare between your work and your kid

during match season in particular, a lot of the relationship is just texts and late night facetimes, sending you flowers and chocolates, and getting you tickets to local matches so the two of you can spend some time together at last

he’s a big fan of surprise visits as well

mostly at your doorstep, but, one time, he decides he’s going to ramp up the surprise element x10, and picks your kid up from nursery

between your kid’s face lighting up when they see nash, and nash turning his charms on the nursery staff, it’s no wonder that they let him take the kid

but, naturally, you freak out when you arrive at the nursery and find out that a man who claimed to know you has already picked the child up

you don’t talk to nash for a day, and nash says he’ll pay for the best nursery around, because the current one’s security clearly sucks

in general, nash does a lot of paying for the kid

he may not like children much, but this one’s ‘his’ and it’s not like he’s got anything better to pay for

so nice clothes, top schools, daytrips: that’s nash’s card footing the bill

(sidenote: nash is 100% the kind of person to have experienced how damaging it is for children to attend highly competitive schools, and yet he’ll still pay for the kid to do the same)

and, of course, he can’t send the kid nice presents without buying you something nice to wear or read too

anyway, back to the child

nash may not be the kind of person who warms to children - he doesn’t find anything particularly interesting about their babble, and he doesn’t care about first steps - but he’s still good with them

and he’s particularly good with yours

naturally, the kid has a phase of wanting to be like his dad when he’s older, so poor nash patientially puts up with hours of teaching this kid how to play basketball

thanks to the belial eye, and societal restrictions on using streetball moves on literal 2 year olds, this basketball training is ridiculously boring for nash

but he still puts up with it :’)

in contrast, the kid worships the ground nash walks on and tells everyone his dad’s a magician because he can make the ball disappear when dribbling

it’s a trick that never fails to amuse the kid, even when he’s in the middle of a tantrum

yeah nash tries to be a good dad, especially during the off-season, to make up for the amount of time he spends away

anyway, final note

nash makes sure to keep the relationship very private

after all, he’s got a brand and “nash gold jr, the suave player who can be a right dick on the court” is not synonymous with “dating a single mum”

it’s not that he’s ashamed of you

he just doesn’t want you or the kid getting harassed by the media, or being tainted by association

and he likes having your home as a safe space where he’s free from being nash gold jr, pro basketballer

where he can just be nash, lover and dad

#nash gold jr #kiridai #knb #kirisaki daichi scenarios #kirisaki daichi #kuroko no basket #the basketball which kuroko plays #headcanons #imagines #hcs #x reader #x you #reader insert #aged up au #pro nash #jabberwock #single mom #single mum headcanons #relationship headcanons

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 10 months

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Bro I really wanted to see Hanamiya in Extra game, I hate how they didn't show him :(

think of it as a blessing - they would have done him as dirty as they did imayoshi. extra game was really just extra anti bad boy propaganda

#fujimaki has his merits #but he writes “friendship saves the day” shounen #he does not appreciate the highs and lows of bad boy basketball #he would have given hanamiya an ugly haircut #and made him lose again >:(

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 10 months

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Hello hello

I hope you're having a nice day ❤️

Can I please ask for some relationship hcs with furu, under what circumstances you think he would fall for someone, what the further relationship would look like etc. I'm in a fluffy mood so please, include some cute content (I mean, as cute as it can get with him, it can have unsettling undertones haha).

Please save me from the torment of not being able to accept any other way of writing him than yours.

Thank you in advance 🦭

i reckon the best route for him to meet someone, fall for them and vice verse, and have a good relationship would be if he met them outside of school/uni

someone who knows him only as “man who tuts as he walks past the florist because he doesn’t think they’re looking after their gardenia optimally” or “quiet, but always very polite, customer at the library who only ever checks out cookbooks on baking and the most gruesome thrillers and neo noir”

you consider him quirky but kind

and the more you get to know him, the more that becomes quirky, kind, and surprisingly funny on the rare occasions he makes a joke, always deadpan. and then quirky, kind, funny, and even more surprisingly thoughtful and considerate when he catches you on a bad day.

basically, furu’s one of the good ones.

i feel like the relationship would stay platonic for a long while

furu doesn’t have much interest in pushing it into becoming romantic - as much as he does like you, he’d much rather continue having someone to talk to, especially when that someone’s you, than risk it all by taking the relationship in a different direction

you’d have to be the one to make the first move

even when you do, a lot stays the same

you’re still two pals sat at a cafe discussing the state of affairs, what books you’ve been reading recently, what recipes furu recommends for an amateur baker, coming up with plans for how the two of you are going to kidnap the florist and hold them ransom as revenge for the gardenias they keep killing

furu’s not a pda type, nor is he touchy-feely. even something like holding hands won’t be common in the relationship, especially not when in public.

the big tell that you’re his no1 is how much more talkative he is with you, and how much more aware he is of your emotions, compared to those of others

i’ve probably brought this up on other furu hc posts, but furu’s love language is 100% gifts/acts of service

bringing you your own flowers (in a pot, with strict instructions on their care), baking you bread and sweets (and then going on a tangent about how bad the processed stuff people buy in stores is for the body), and so on

he might sound like a real pain at times, but he means well

he’s basically like gokushufudou’s main character: 50% organised crime, 50% threatening people’s lives and polishing knives, and 100% about taking care of his s/o

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 11 months

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Manager beating Hanamiya at chess: how would the boys react? Lmao I love this man but someone needs to humble his ass

he’d totally spin it like he let you win on purpose

when the game first starts, he’s all jokes and smiles. when he starts realising what a good position you’ve got your pieces in, his face goes a bit tense, his back’s a little stiffer

he’s still grinning and chatting - cause he can’t look like he’s having to seriously concentrate - but it’s just not sincere anymore

when it’s finally checkmate, he leans back and says, “what a surprise. you’re just so skilled”

with just a light dosing of sarcasm, really trying to make you doubt whether you won through skill or because he let you win

whereas, inside, he’s running through the game again trying to figure out where he could have possibly gone wrong to have let this happen

because it has to be because he made a mistake, and not because you saw a bigger game than him, right?

it takes several more matches (with hanamiya becoming increasing less chatty/self-confident, and much more focused, probably reading up on different gambits and openings in the evening) before hanamiya starts to admit you’re a better a player than him and starts asking for advice

though, of course, he’s not going phrase it like that

it’s more of a “how much chess have you been playing, you nerd?” or “weird move. what was the point of that?”

you know, normal compliments

#hanamiya makoto #kiridai #kirisaki daichi #kirisaki daiichi #kirisaki daichi scenarios #x reader #reader insert #chess #knb #kuroko no basket #kuroko no basuke #the basketball which kuroko plays #hcs #headcanons #imagines #scenarios

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 11 months

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Hello I'm not sure if your ask box is open, but if so can I please request headcannons for Nash gold with a little brother reader. That's the opposite of him personality wise so he's quiet, artsy, a history buff. Overall a bit of a nerd hahaha.

oh this is the set-up for the most classic older brother trope

you know, the 10/10 “i can bully you but no one else can” one

like, don’t get me wrong, nash can appreciate someone who’s doing well at school, as he’s a hard-worker too, but is he going to introduce his nerd young brother to the team? no fucking way

or as he’d put it, in his kind and caring older brother way, “fuck off. I don’t want your loser rubbing off on me.”

he does appreciate that sport is his thing and only his thing in the family, and that he can practise at his various sports without an annoying little brother getting in the way

but he also can’t relate much to his sibling, so they’re not as closer as brothers can be

that’s not to say he doesn’t try, on occasion

he once asked if he’d design him a tattoo (didn’t follow through on it, but still), or he’ll sometimes his brother what book he’s reading (typical responses, after being given an answer, is “sounds lame” or “sick. you enjoy that then” depending on whether the book is about a war or not)

and sometimes, the two will watch a history movie together, but it has to be on war and/or proper hand-to-hand combat, stuff with a lot of violence to keep nash engaged

(n.b. how sick would nash look in a gladiator costume? gladiator!nash au when)

of course, the majority of the time nash wants very little to do with his younger brother

he rarely replies to texts or texts his younger brother, unless it’s related to nash hearing that someone’s been bothering him

nash will very happily beat up anyone who bothers his young brother, only to then scold said young brother on how, if he has any self-respect, he ought to learn to fight already

and, to emphasise, nash is a big fan of wrestling/playing roughly with his younger brother, despite having done this since the two of them were kids

younger brother definitely has nash-caused scars from childhood

pity their poor mother who had to watch nash interacting with his younger brother like a hawk, because, from the minute his brother was born, nash wanted to express his love for him

and by ‘love’, i mean physical ‘affection’ that would be ‘mistaken’ for violence in any other circumstance

by, hey, when he’s not trying to lovingly injure his little brother, nash is not bad at looking after him

and he does like him

he’s just a big believer that a little bit of bullying goes a long way in making someone a more acceptable (in nash’s eyes) member of society

besides, with nash around, his brother will never have worry about not having someone on his side when push comes to shove

nash is a dickhead of a brother but he’s also very loyal

#nash gold jr #reader insert #kirisaki daichi scenarios #jabberwock #knb #kuroko no basket #the basketball which kuroko plays #imagines #scenarios #hcs #headcanons #siblings #younger brother reader #male!reader

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 1 year

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chat asks part something

mental illness. either that or it's some kind of hannah montana alter ego thing and you were the real furuhashi all along.

in the grand scheme of things, i’m a comparatively new fan - i only started watching it in 2016. i have kurofes and the characters bible, and a couple of volumes, but that’s it. i’ve never really been into merch beyond buying manga. i don't have any interest in cosplaying or figurines so it would feel wasteful to buy other merch.

part 4 here: https://www.tumblr.com/kirisaki-daichi-scenarios/702711393774927872/aftermath-of-manager-betraying-the-boys-p4. she most definitely got hot.

not unless it’s to do with kiridai/haizaki/imayoshi/jabberwock, like comparing him to one of the boys or doing a ___ x reader x aomine.

#chat asks

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 1 year

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haizaki shougo is in the sticks

for @paintoreos who requested “could you write some fluff for Hanamiya/Haizaki of them being kissed by their s/o for the first time?? 🙏❤️” and @dust-of-fandoms who requested “I have been in a Haizaki mood for a couple of days now, would he be too annoying to write fluff for? I feel like the fluffy part of a relationship with him comes after he gets over himself and starts treating his partner better.” hope this works for you both!

engawas are like japanese architecture’s equivalent of a porch. haizaki’s aged up to 20 in this so i’m not promoting minors drinking. i'm not advising that adults drink either. haizaki is permanently bad role model.

Sat alone on the engawa, Haizaki takes another swig of beer and stares out across the sticky summer dusk, dimming fields stuffed with rice flowers and mosquitos. Excluding the crickets, he hears nothing but his own breath and the sloshing of the sip of beer in the can.

When she said her family was from the sticks, she really meant it.

It’s no place for a city boy like Haizaki. He misses the sound of anything and everything, police sirens to the neighbours’ arguments. Even thinking about the sound of the nursery kids screaming down the road is making him feel homesick. The sound of people and the sound of conflict: he’s only just realised that it’s been with him since he was born.

At last, he hears footsteps behind him and the thump of a girl coming to sit down beside him.

“You took your time,” Haizaki remarks, moving over for her.

She hands him another beer and opens her own. “Don’t tell me you were scared without me?”

“Scared? Of what - the crickets?”

“Bears. Ghosts. Serial killers.”

“Very funny.”

“I’m not kidding,” and she points towards a couple dwellings in the distance, her nightgown sleeve slipping down towards her elbow. “When my parents were born, the guy who lived over there would have been on his third murder. It took another two deaths before the police found him, and they still haven’t found all the bodies. They say the lead investigator only figured it out when he realised how well the guy’s crops were growing. And, you know what the creepy part is? He’s been in prison for decades now but the crops still grow better than everyone else’s.”

“Yeah, well I’m not scared of him. Hell, if he ever got out and tried something, I’d-“

In the darkness, a meow. Haizaki squeaks with surprise and she bursts into giggles as the culprit, her mother’s aged tabby, trots over towards them.

“Says he’s not scared of a serial killer but can’t even face a cat without bursting into tears.”

“Oi, he just caught me by surprise,” he replies gruffly, looking away. “I’d take him in a fight too. Dumb fucking cat.”

She’s still giggling, “what are going you going to do, Mr Big Bad Haizaki? Challenge him to a duel, 1v1 him, organise a boxing match with a cat?”

“You don’t get it. He disrespected me. Disrespected me,” he repeats, stressing each syllable, focused on trying to keep his tone sounding serious, to keep her laughing as long as possible. “As a man, I can’t let this slide.”

The cat is now swatting at mosquitos, rolled over onto his back.

“He doesn’t think you’re a worthy enough opponent. You’ll have to fight the mosquitos before you have the right to challenge him.” She takes a sip of beer and glances at the tens of mosquito bites littering Haizaki’s arms and legs. “And I don’t think you’ll win against them anytime soon.”

“Man, was this why you invited me here? Just to mock me?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“And here I thought it was because a cute chick liked me.” Haizaki reaches out to the cat and lets him swipe at the man’s hands “You hear that? I��ve become a laughing stock.”

“No, you weren’t wrong about the cute chick liking you,” she says, and turns her head, and her lips make gentle contact with Haizaki’s cheek.

No one says anything. Haizaki’s heart is going a mile a minute, even though logically he knows it’s just a kiss, really just a peck on the cheek, something that a guy who’s been in as many half-hearted hookups as he has should have long been desensitised to. Yet the intimacy of it panics him, has him blushing like a kid, has him thinking twenty years ahead to days of sitting on this engawa together, maybe with more cats, maybe even with kids, and holding her hand, and watching the sunset, and realising that the feeling of her presence, and shoulder brushing his, will always be far more comforting than any city sounds.

He’s thinking, what the fuck is wrong with you Haizaki Shougo?

And he’s mumbling, because love is still too big and intimidating a concept to profess,

“Do that again.”

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 1 year

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Happy you're back!

happy to be back :D planning lots of mildly nonsensical headcanon posts until i have time to get some proper writing done

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 1 year

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Kiridai if Kiridai were involved in agriculture

Britain edition because I know little to nothing about Japanese agriculture

Hanamiya Makoto

Large animal and equine vet

The type of vet who sells various prescription drugs under the counter (or, to be specific, from the boot of his car): everyone knows and no one calls him out on it, because cheaper drugs are cheaper drugs

There’s a rumour that he used to be a specialist small animal cardiologist abroad, best in the country, and only moved because he may or may not have made an ethically dubious decision that may or may not have resulted in his breaking criminal law

But he also has a great eye for spotting lameness that another vet would miss, and in general his diagnoses are never wrong, so livestock owners flock to him because one consultation almost always gets the job done, and equine owners flock to him because he always finds a problem to explain their paranoia

Yamazaki Hiroshi

Has a flock of sheep in the Uplands

I.e. he spends lambing season in sideways rain and gales, getting soaked to the skin and swearing that he’ll give up on sheep, and yet he never does and never will

Breeds for meat, but dreams of a world where he could breed primarily for wool and earn a living from it

Has a couple wethers living in his house full time - all were orphaned at birth and thus hand-reared by him, making him too attached to them to send them to slaughter

Also has a slightly deranged collie that still hasn’t quite figured out why it has to leave said wethers alone but herd all the other sheep

Names as many of his sheep as his memory can manage, even though he knows it just makes the goodbyes harder

Furuhashi Kojiro

Flower farmer - has some bee hives on the side, and grows seasonal vegetables, but his primary focus/income is cut flowers

Has a good 400 varieties of flowers (everything from Achillea to Weigela) growing on his land for commercial use, most of which he will cut and organise for wedding and hotel arrangements and bouquets

Also grows his own rose breeds (one purple to red climbing rose; one mostly white with hints of purple Damask rose) but he rarely, if ever, sells any of the progeny. They’re practically his children, after all - you don’t sell your children

Some of them will see the inside of rose shows, and the climbing rose has been planted at a rose garden, but otherwise they spend his days in his garden

Meanwhile, the other flowers and the foliage both get sold throughout the year, as does the honey and the vegetables (at the local village market), and, though he doesn’t love cutting them, he doesn’t miss them like he would the roses

Doesn’t use any insecticide or herbicide and very much judges flower farmers that do

If he’s not silently tending to his plants for hours on end, then he’s grumbling about the loss of insects, and if he’s not grumbling about the loss of insects, he’s frowning reading the latest reports on climate change

His plans for the future involve an exceptionally sharp pair of scissors and a Bonsai tree

Seto Kentato

Large animal vet

Tried small animal for a while, and then equine, but neither worked because he found the owners talked too much or ‘loved their animals too much’ (aka made them obese). Hence moving onto, and sticking with, large animal.

The farmers he works with know that he doesn’t like to talk too much, and can be brusque, but none of them care because he’s the best large animal vet in the area

Doesn’t particularly like cows but, for reasons unknown, cows really like him (and bulls despise him)

Can be found sleeping at the back of the clinic whenever he’s not on call

Thinking about getting some training and specialising in large zoo animals, for the added challenge - something about rhinos and elephants is calling his name

Hara Kazuya

He was a man child struggling with boredom and too much money for his own good, who therefore decided he’d try his hand at farming

Wasn’t initially sure what to farm - at one point, he was seriously considering snails - until he read that the ostrich industry had collapsed because no one could figure out how to keep them healthy in the UK. And he took that as a challenge.

Hence Hara, the ostrich farmer.

Went through a phase where he had his hair dyed half black and half white, to rep the ostriches

Keeps saying he’ll get a dangerous animal license, so he can get some pet zebras to continue with “the theme”… the mad* lad might just do it

He’s also the kind of owner to ask whether he can give his ostriches weed to help them chill out “because it works for people in the States”… it’s safe to say that his local vets avoid doing his call-outs as much as possible,

The ostriches like him though :)

The business is profitable, the animals are healthy so clearly he’s doing something right

*and by mad, I mean despicable. do not keep wild animals as pets.

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 1 year

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morning folks

apologises for going awol. long story short, jan and feb were rough (i swear, i was probably spending more time with doctors and vets than a med/vetmed student does) and it’s meant i’m behind on everything, and writing/posting just completely disappeared from the schedule.

the plan is to spend march trying to sort my life out again. hopefully come april, i’ll be able to start posting once a fortnight or something.

thanks to the people who are still around + hope everyone’s had a decent start to their year :)

#feel free to send asks in the meantime #if it says that the askbox is closed anywhere #just ignore it

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 1 year

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aftermath of manager betraying the boys p4

part 1 here, 2 here, 3 here

It’s Friday. She’s about to leave home for her afternoon shift at the bookshop, slipping her shoes on just as the door swings open.

“Honey, I’m home!” Her husband of one year tosses his rucksack to the side, and wraps his arms around her waist, “have a nice day at work, yeah?”

Leaning into his embrace, she turns her head to kiss his cheek, “you need to stop acting like you’re in a sitcom.”

Then, quietly, knowing how much he hates the topic, she adds, “how was the physio?”

“Fine.”

One final kiss to her forehead and he walks away with the limp he’s had ever since Yamazaki’s foot made contact with his spine. He can’t play judo anymore. He sees a physio once a week, and yet there’s been barely any progress since the appointments began. He was a man whose motto was “push through the pain”, but you can’t push through chronic pain. A man who lived for judo, and now all he lives for is his pain meds in the morning.

(And she never snitched. Gentleman than he is, he didn’t push her, but he wanted her to. He said that if they told on Hanamiya and his gang, they’d be expelled and she wouldn’t have to worry anymore.

“Look at what happened when you told the headmaster about their behaviour on the court,” he had said.

But she was looking at it. She is still looking at it, remembers it every day, every time she looks at him and his limp. And so, she had sworn to break up with him if he ever dared to snitch.

God she’s vicious. Undeserving. Hanamiya was right.

——

Excluding a group of children who screamed her ears off over a new instalment of some shoujo manga, her shift passes without a hitch. Outside, it’s dark and dreary. Drizzle batters the windows. But the shop itself is cosy, more so when you’re at the counter in a thick jumper. With one hand, she’s updating the shop’s blog on next week’s offers. With the other, she’s bringing her thermos of hot chocolate to her lips. It’s a lovely evening, with no customers to bother her. And, in just one hour, she’ll be on her way home, and Friday’s are movie nights.

“Excuse me, ma’am, could you direct me to the crime section?”

She hadn’t heard anyone enter. She flinches at the sound of a voice.

“Yes, it’s just on-“ she looks up. Pauses.

It’s not fear, it’s not dread that flits across her face: it’s horror.

How ironic. This was all because she snitched on them, but Seto must have told them where she worked.

—

In their first year of high school, she and Seto sat together in almost all their classes. Any group projects, they did together. Lunches, they spent together. His being there was the main reason she’d agreed to being the team’s manager. And, until the very end, when she was walking to the headmaster’s office with that damning USB in her skirt pocket, she’d still been thinking that Seto was a good guy. Yes, he’d ignored the hostility the team spewed - but that made him guilty of apathy, not cruelty, right?

It took hearing him laugh as he watched the others beat her boyfriend up for her to realise that he was just like the rest of them: entertained by violence.

Why she’d thought he’d keep his promise - when she asked him not to tell anyone where she worked - even she didn’t know.

—

“Ma’am, you still there?”

Hanamiya leans over the desk, and grins at her. It’s been six years since they last saw each other. He’s a little taller now, dressed far more formally than he used to be (black suit, sleeves cuffed, and a long black coat like the Grim Reapear), and his tone is formal though relaxed - but that big Hanamiya grin hasn’t changed.

There’s no one else in the shop. Yet, even if there was, this situation would always feel like Her-and-Hanamiya.

“The crime section, yes,” she shoves her hand below the desk so he can’t see them shaking, “take the stairs over there. The crime section will be on the other end of the basement.”

“You know, my eyesight’s not great. How about-“

“Fuck off.”

The grin slips off his lips.

He straightens his back, looks around - looks at each and every CCTV camera on the floor - then turns back to her.

“What would your boss think, if he knew you were a) speaking so rudely to a customer and b) refusing to support a customer with an eye disease. I have glaucoma, don’t you know?”

He’s a cunt. He’s a lying fucking cunt. He’s a disgusting piece of shit, whom her mother adored. She insisted that Hanamiya was a good sort, based on how kindly he helped her around the house when the team would stay the night. She with her glaucoma, that she fought with so valiantly until she died of a heart attack. Hanamiya knows she’s dead. The whole team attended the funeral with their beloved manager, letting her cry on their shoulders, holding her hand, offering her tissues. Hara even completed her memorial speech for her when she couldn’t.

And Hanamiya also would tell her boss about her behaviour. He’d tell the tale in such a way there’d be no arguing with him; her boss would fall in love him with, and she’d be unemployed by the end of the day.

For someone who warned her what happens to snitches, with her now husband’s blood across his palms, he sure is comfortable with being a snitch himself.

So she gets up slowly, holding onto her chair as tight as she can, so her fist doesn’t make contact with Hanamiya’s mouth. Steps away from the desk. And, keeping her eyes fixed in front of her, committed to ignoring him, walks towards the stairs with Hanamiya in tow.

“We should hang out sometime,” natters on Hanamiya, “reminisce the good old days. How’s that bloke of yours? Are you still with him after we… redecorated his ugly mug? Not that there was much to like originally. You were just desperate.”

“Don’t talk about him like that,” she snaps. she’s fair game, but her lover is the only good thing in this world, the only sun shining.

Hanamiya continues. “If you were so desperate for some male attention, we could have pimped you out to someone. There was no need to cause such a fuss just to get some judo moron to sleep with you. Does he even sleep with you? Back in the day, it was the male students who got along best with him, wasn’t it? Big fan of the male first years-“

She can’t bite her tongue any longer.

“You’re grown ass adults now,” she spits. “Just because you’re realising you peaked in high school, and the rest of your lives will be spent as angry depressed salarymen in shitty marriages with angry depressed kids, doesn’t meant you need to take it out on me.”

Hanamiya pauses, as if surprised - or mock surprised. As she turns the corner to the crime section, she hears wolf-whistling and applause.

“She’s still got it,” says Hara, referencing the times the team used to perform rap battles while watching each other practise shooting.

She won everytime. She was the “rap battle queen”, and when she got a 3-pointer from the bench, after coming up with a lethal bar about Matsumoto’s hair - or lack of - she was deemed the queen of the team full stop. Those were the good days. Yamazaki, ceasing to clap, has a solemn look in his gaze like he’s thinking the same thing.

The rant has given her some more confidence. Even knowing that the crime section is the only part of the bookstore that has no cameras on it, and that that’s probably why they chose it, she still feels better. They can’t do their worst in a public location. And it’s only forty minutes until she can close up shop, head to the local police station, only a five minute walk away, and tell them that she’s being followed by an obsessive boyfriend and his friends, could she please stay at the station till they walk away. As long as they don’t find out her current address, or anything about her husband, she’ll be alright.

Thirty-nine minutes now.

“It really has been a while.” Before she can think to push him away, Hara wraps his arms around her, his weight pressing her into the corner, and whispers in her ear, “I missed you, you know?”

“Leave her be, Hara,” Yamazaki sighs.

“Jealous much,” replies Hara, but he does let go, adding, “you’ve put on weight. No more basketball to keep you fit, ey? I was the same way for a bit. After you happened.”

38 minutes. Just 16 two minutes left to go.

“You know, you’re the reason Zaki didn’t get to his first choice university. Because you gave him a record.”

“Sucks to be him,” she retorts, just as Yamazaki mumbles, quietly,

“That’s not true. My parents sorted it out.”

“But it could have been true,” interjects Hara, “which is why someone should be showing more remorse.”

Hara hasn’t changed, that much is clear. He argues with the same pointless, childish, circular arguments that he’s had since he was in high school, whose logic never had to make much sense as long as he had it in his mind that he was superior to whoever he was arguing with. Even his hair colour hasn’t changed. And these stupid remarks now aren’t much different to the times he would pull her ear or punch her in the arm. Time has killed much of the malice he used to have towards her, leaving nothing but that same demand for attention. Plus - a confusion as to why he wants that attention, like a bully who targets their crush.

Had she not snitched, would she have ended up like this too - forever trying to return to the days of high school? Or was it because she snitched that the rest of them got stuck in the time loop, clinging onto the life they lived before they realised they weren’t above the law?

There’s no juvenile laws to protect them anymore. Plus she doubts that their parents would be happy to get them out of trouble, now that they’re adults who’ve been given everything they need to have a successful future. They’re not going to hurt her, really hurt her, in a situation where they could face the consequences; they must know she’ll go straight to the police.

They can’t hurt her but they also can’t leave her be.

With this in mind, she starts to speak.

“When I said I did it for your sakes, I meant it. It wasn’t from the moral high ground that you perceived it to be. I genuinely meant it. You’ll never know how many times I thought about throwing away the USB and carrying on as if the team’s - our team’s - behaviour was normal. I barely slept for the nights leading up to that final day, and I barely slept afterwards. To this day, part of me feels guilty. I threw up in the headmaster’s office when I showed him the clips. He thought it was because I was so disgusted - but it wasn’t. It was just, when you watched the videos,” her voice cracks, “you could tell we were all friends. I was watching those videos thinking what a horrible person I was to betray you all like that. I was-“

She takes a shaky breath. Her eyes are burning as she fights the urge to cry.

No one else speaks.

“The worst part of it is, I was never planned on doing it. I started recording during practice, after matches, whatever, because I wanted to make a film of us. I was going to present it to you all at the end of our third year, as a memento of our time together.

But the more time I spent editing, the more I realised what you - we - were really like. We were so cruel. I’d never realised it until I was watching us as pixels on a screen. God, the things we said - honing in on people’s physical weaknesses, with no respect for the actual game, and ignoring the fact people could actually be crippled for life thanks to one stupid basketball match. Jokes about beating people up for fun that became actually beating people up for fun. Comments on how you’d make people pay for going against you, that got increasingly explicit and violent over the course of the year. Or that time a guy yelled at me after a match, and you were with me, Zaki, you overheard. Yes, he shouldn’t have called me a bitch - but you could have killed him if Seto hadn’t showed up to help me pull you off him. What future would you have had then?

The entire fucking team was edging closer to doing something that would be in your records for the rest of your lives. Practice after school was less about basketball and more about honing this pack mentality where all that mattered was violence with no consequences. What I showed the headmaster was the mild stuff. I deleted the really incriminating bits, like Furuhashi holding a knife to someone's throat to school, or Hara waterboarding one of the health committee kids.

We didn’t need any of that. Hanamiya, with your brains, you could have developed any sort of team, you could have learnt any skill you wanted. Why did you have to pick hurting people? Kiridai could have been a really good, genuinely good basketball team. You guys were all so talented!”

Tears fall to the carpet as she stares down at the floor, her fists clenched, her voice growing quiet.

“And I loved every moment I spent with you all. I loved every single one of you. I loved pre-match prep, running around an unknown school to figure out where the toilets were, scouting out opponents in stupid disguises, playing streetball at dawn in an area I would never have felt confident to walk around with you there, or team sleepovers at my house where we’d fall asleep together on the sofa. I still dream of you all now, and I wake up crying, knowing that I was the one who ruined it. I’m sorry.” She looks them each in the eyes as she says this; her voice is loud again, and resolute, “I’m sorry. I was naive, I was self-righteous, and I ruined everything.

I’m really fucking sorry.”

She wipes the tears off her face one final time, and says, “The shop will be closing soon. Hanamiya, I directed you to the crime section as requested. If you want to make any purchases, I’ll be at the counter but please make them in the next twenty minutes. Thank you.”

She walks away.

No one calls her back.

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 1 year

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yo folks,

i'm going to go on a bit of a semi-hiatus. i've got a lot on my plate at the moment which has left me running on empty, and i could do with freeing myself from at least one responsibility.

i'll still be working on fics, and i'll probably post some hc posts for the winter/holiday season. however, until maybe february, i'm not going to be posting regularly. it's not a proper hiatus; it's just me convincing my mind that i can take a little breather, so i can find the time to give the fics the attention they need.

i'm not going to close the askbox, but don't expect asks to be answered anytime soon as i may just end up doing whatever idea strikes my fancy.

but yeah thanks for sticking around :)

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kirisaki-daichi-scenarios · 1 year

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age 15 | haizaki shougo

tw: mentions of violence and one reference to suicidal thoughts

Haizaki, age 10, is a normal boy. A normal - jokes about farting, unable to sit still for long, wrestling with his buddies after school - boy.

Haizaki, age 14, is a teenager. An irritating - piece of shit, hated by everyone - teenager.

And Haizaki, age 13, is lying in hospital, listening to his mother sob.

It was a streetball match that went wrong. Some older guys showed up to the court, demanded to use the space, but a group of cocky 13-year-olds, high on basketball endorphins, don’t back down to deadbeat 20-year-olds. They suggested that there be a match to decide who could use the court. It must have seemed a great idea to youngsters looking to hone their skills: the chance to fight head-to-head with their seniors.

And it would have been a great idea, could have been the making of a camaraderie between older and younger boys, the formation of mentors and brotherhoods - except Haizaki was too good. He was copying the best of the opposition’s moves; he was sticking his tongue out as he scored three-pointers; he was whooping and cheering and making a V for victory sign, indulging in the joy of winning, as any 13-year-old is going to do.

Except 20-year-old sore losers don't take kindly to a 13-year-old’s joy.

They cornered him as he was about to score again, two guys a head taller than him each. His legs were kicked out from underneath him, elbows shoving him down. One minute he was dunking, flying, and, the next, almost 100kg had crashed onto his head.

It is possible - allegedly, maybe, Haizaki’s no snitch - that one of those older boys then grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head into the concrete ground of that sacred free-throw line. It could potentially be the case that he was spat on, that every inch of his body was kicked till it bruised bright blue, and that his teammates did nothing, too afraid to intervene for someone who, though good at basketball, just wasn’t their best mate. Some accounts of the scenario suggest that they only got involved when the older boys told them to get the fuck off their court. Haizaki was barely conscious; two teammates had to drag him off the court.

Even then, he was still trying to grip onto the concrete.

They dumped him on the grass verge by the road running past the court. It took 20 odd minutes until a passerby spotted him and called for an ambulance. So there was 13-year-old Haizaki, lying in hospital, entire head throbbing, and hurt pride burning inside him. There was his mother, crying as the doctor explained how lucky her son was that the damage wasn’t worse, that the outlook was good.

That wasn’t how Haizaki felt.

Haizaki Shougo, 13 years old, just wanted someone to explain to him how basketball, his deity and life’s purpose, had led him to this point. He wanted to know when the migraine and the ringing in his ears and the blurring of his vision would go away. He wanted to cry and scream and he wanted a basketball to keep him company in that sterile grey room, except his mother refused to allow it in case he hurt himself again.

Was that the first time he called his mother a bitch - the first time he threatened to kill himself unless she brought him that basketball right-fucking-now, as she stared at her son in such horror and disappointment, that it made him actually want to jump out that window?

“Head injuries can induce personality changes,” the doctor had told her.

It was one thing knowing it, and another watching your son change.

Eventually, things improved. The headaches became less frequent, his concentration improved (as much as a teen boy’s concentration can), and he could move as fluidly on the court as he did pre-injury. The court, that is, referring to the local park. He couldn’t use the Teiko basketball courts anymore. He wasn’t a member of the team.

They’d replaced him for a blonde-haired cunt called Kise.

It wasn’t unreasonable, in Haizaki’s mind, that he had gotten angry about that, throwing books across the living room until his mother was so sick of him that she just left the house.

She didn’t care. No one did. Everyone was making light of his love for basketball, so Haizaki started doing the same. Less shooting practice, less drills, more staring brainlessly at the TV until the bright light brought the migraines back. It was just a sport after all. What kind of nerd cared about a sport?

Haizaki, age 14, considered himself a grown-up. He knew what grown-ups were - 20-year-olds who curb-stomped on kids with a bit of basketball talent - and he thrived in this new lifestyle. Everyone hated him, especially his new friends, who disliked him more than most (that was why they stuck around him, as though hoping his awful attitude would rub off on them, take them from being insecure losers to men who were hated to the point of being revered).

Haizaki stole from the stash of vodka his brother, in turn, had stolen from the corner shop. When that stash ran out, he became the one stealing from the corner shop. He started spending his evenings cat-calling, making gestures at women his mother’s age who looked at him like he was the scum of the earth. He became that one student that every single teacher hated, the guy who disrupted and ruined every class he was in.

Every time his mother was called into school, she explained that it wasn’t his fault. He’d experienced a traumatic brain injury a year ago. The impulsivity, the brashness, the temper: they were all symptoms of that. He wasn’t solely a teenager who’d had the worst of him brought out by puberty. It was the injury.

The teachers never took her seriously though. How could they? When he looked at his mother in the eyes, he could tell she didn’t believe that bullshit much either. Hell, even he didn’t know what to believe.

What part of him was him, and what part was the head injury?

So, Haizaki, age 15, stepping into high school for the first time, is a bad teenager. A vile, waste of space, despised teenager.

Haizaki, age 15, has become the villain.

disclaimer: it goes without saying that head injuries do not make people evil and are not an excuse for the various misdemeanours that haizaki gets up to. this fic is simple haizaki apologist propaganda, and should be treated accordingly.

if you enjoyed this fic, you may also enjoy:

an asexual haizaki fic

a very lonely haizaki fic

the kirihaizaki!au series

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