Perfectionist ✺ Sakusa Kiyoomi

1

A wide smile immediately crept onto Chiharu's face.

"Question of the day," Chiharu announced, as if it'd been a daily thing they'd been keeping up for a while and not just something he came up with on the spot. "Would you punch a teammate for a thousand yen?"

"What—? That's so—" Random. That was so random, was what Kiryu was trying to say. He was unfortunately cut off by his own exasperated facepalm. Konishi Chiharu was stubborn as a mule. He wouldn't let Kiryu leave unless his burning question was answered. Bothering Kiryu was Chiharu's profession, afterall. His skill at the task was unparalleled.

Thus, Kiryu very genuinely thought about the question for a moment.

As the captain of the team and the person they relied on, he should say no, right? Punching a teammate would be unethical. And also he could ruin relationships. But one thousand yen did sound nice... Would he literally screw up the dynamic of the team if he answered 'yes' to this hypothetical scenario?

His eyes scanned the volleyball players scattered around the Clubroom. Some were awaiting his answer while trying to hide their obvious amusement, others were extremely concentrated on jumping up and trying to hang onto the ceiling fan for reasons unbeknownst to Kiryu. Then, there was Konishi, smugly leaning against his locker.

"Can I choose who I punch?" Kiryu asked, as shook his head and fought to contain his smile at how ridiculous the whole ordeal was.

"Yes. So, what's your decision?"

Kiryu paused. "Can I phone a friend first?" He looked to Usuri, who returned a thumbs-up in his direction. To any outsider, the gesture looked like loving encouragement. But Kiryu knew deep down that it meant "you're on your own, buddy."

"Nope." Chiharu barked a laugh with dimples in his cheek.

"Interesting." Kiryu crossed his arms, his protein drink long forgotten. "It's settled then. I'd punch you in the face for a thousand yen."

"He'd probably do it for free, Haru-san." Usuri chirped in, pulling his practice jersey over his head. "He'd punch you in the face for honor alone."

"Pfft— 'for honor'..." Chiharu bursted into a fit of laughter, before an extremly exaggerated gasp took over his expression. "Hey, wait! No one said it had to be in the face!"

In one of the rare instances Kiryu didn't overthink, he blurted, "No, but it would shut you up for a while."

And the Clubroom erupted. Literal steam was coming from the strings of 'ohhhhhhh's and 'he got you good!'s.

Chiharu dramatically slid down the metal lockers and melted onto the ground. "Captain! You would throw your favorite Libero under the bus like this?"

"It's not 'would'; He already did." Unnan shrugged. "The bus has run you over and is at the next station already."

Unretained laughter rang throughout the whole Clubroom. Chiharu pretended to be heartbroken for approximately .3 seconds before his facade fell apart. Still on the ground, he reached out a bruised forearm and gripped onto the edge of a locker as his other hand clutched his stomach as he laughed.

Kiryu had a small chuckle; his eyes paused on Chiharu's knobbly limbs. Ugly bruises were scattered along his forearm, some old and others as fresh as yesterday. Identical bruises bloomed throughout the higher parts of his legs, as if they were a sick accentuation for his hard-earned muscle.

The lockeroom began to clear out. Chatter amongst the teammates became complaints against the cold as soon as someone pushed the Clubroom door open. Chiharu, realizing he'd been too busy horsing around to prepare for practice, began to collect his equipment. With a slight tremble, he reached for the top locker with his sore arms.