Where'd You Get Off?

 

 

Three hours had passed since Hanabusa’s turn in health. Three isotonic drinks in, the girl had perked up and helped collect and clean the volleyballs covering the majority of the court. Tottering around like a child playing with air-filled balloons, her feet accidentally kicking the spheres more often than not as she chased them, she called out. “Is it quicker to get the train or the bus to Okamoto?”

Aran perked up, recalling the address he ordered the cab for yesterday as he wiped sweat from his face. “Why Okamoto? Weren’t you staying at the hotel by Mikage high?”

“That was only until our stuff was brought to the boarding house. It’s just my old man and I and he’s busy in Hiroshima, so I said there wasn’t any point to me getting a bigger place just to myself or wasting money in a hotel where I’d have to buy pre-made meals and still pay for storage only for it to have to be moved again.”

“I still can’t believe you live alone,” Akagi wondered as he saved a ball sent flying by Atsumu screwing around.

“Technically, I live with my old man, but he’s working out of town at the moment.”

Omimi collected the trash left over from the afforded drinks and eyed the girl. “I wouldn’t give that information out so freely if I were you.”

“Too late - it was pretty much her class introduction,” Osamu told the rest of the team and Suna nodded to confirm the story.

“Do you have no sense of danger?” Omimi asked.

“Nah,” glancing up to the tallest, Hanabusa shrugged, “none. In the other places I’ve lived, I never made any friends so I often walked home in the dark by myself; I open the door to salesmen without asking for their I.D and sleep with the windows open when it’s too warm for me.”

Aran frowned and shook his head at the newcomer, “are you asking to be violated?” 

The girl managed to keep her mental remark inside her head before she could sound like some kind of easy mark. “If something’s going to happen, it will. I just hope for the other person’s sake that they can take a beating if they try any BS.”

Already jogging away, Ginjima glanced to their captain, “Kita San, you scouted a crazy person.”

Hearing the remark despite the mousy Wing Spiker trying to escape earshot, Kita wiped his face on his hand towel. “Good - Like anyone sane could deal with you lot.”

---

Showered and changed, the group of boys called out thanks for the shared hard work. Packing the borrowed camera, books and her stationary into her bag, Hanabusa tried not to stare at the damp hair and slick skin over defined arm muscles. She wished she could have had a shower but there was no way she’d be caught dead with a bare face in front of anyone, let alone a bunch of teen boys she was going to be working with. She’d suffer her sweat and the tinge of vomit stuck in the back of her throat until she could do a deep clean in private.

“I’ll wash the clothes you lent me and bring them back on Monday,” Hanabusa told as she hopped off the last step into the darkness where the other boys were waiting for Kita to lock up for the night.

“Don’t worry about it, Hana Chan,” Akagi bounced from one foot to the other beside the girl to keep warm in the brisk evening air but spared a smile regardless of his discomfort. “They don’t belong to anyone any more so you might as well keep them.”

Ushering the last of the team members out of the gym, Kita turned off the lights and locked the double doors.

“Am' starving.”

Atsumu gawked at his twin and hissed, “ya always starving. Anyone'd think we’re not fed at home.”

“Not everyone has eaten two lunches this afternoon, ya asshole.” The grey haired twin snapped at the food-thief. “Why and how did ya even take my stuff: none of it could be eaten without cookin' it, you fuckin’ deviant.”

“I’m hungry too; it was a struggle near the end.” Ginjima swiped over his face with his sleeve, the sweat still pushing out of his pores turning cold in the winter weather, “prepping for tournaments is no joke.”

“I always end up forgetting how hard it is over the off season, but then when it restarts, I get PTSD,” Suna mumbled, his lack of emote really making it seem as though he was being sarcastic towards Ginjima’s complaint. 

Still bouncing, the Libero chimed, “shall we grab something on the way to the station?”

“There’s a new place opened down the road.” Scrolling through his phone, Atsumu held up his screen for the others to see pictures of the aforementioned corner business which sold mostly Western food. 

Blowing into his hands in an attempt to warm his suddenly numbed fingertips, Osamu hummed up to the murky sky threatening snow. “D'ya think it’s cold enough for oden yet?”

Slowing his pace to become shoulder to shoulder with the girl at the back of the group, Kita looked to the new addition. “Is there anything you’d prefer, Hanabusa Chan?”

Knocked from her thoughts, the addressed looked up from where she was going to blink at the Captain. “Oh, don’t change your plans on my account. I have to get back so I can go over the footage and type up what I wrote.”

Atsumu joked and was already moving out of the girl’s line of reach before he’d finished speaking. “Whatta nerd.” 

Scrunching her face at the boy walking backwards in order to taunt her from a distance, Hanabusa rolled her words like a thug from an inner Tokyo district. “This nerd is going to help you improve, you punk.”

“You can’t improve perfection,” the Setter held his nose in the air with closed eyes only to be thwacked on the back of the head by a low branch left unnoticed by his attitude.

Smirking at the poetic justice, the female hummed in agreement. “That is true, but I don’t see anybody perfect.”

“Ya littl-”

Cutting in before the new manager could mangle their control tower, Kita looked to the girl at his left. “You’re not goin' to join us?”

Expression softening for the speaker, Hanabusa tilted her head forward a fraction. “I really appreciate the offer, but I have a lot to do. I only got to town on Tuesday and I have stuff to unpack. The clothes sent have been in storage for ages so they’re smelling musty, I need to shower and at least finish some of this,” she patted the side of her bag against her hip. “Besides, I want to try and get one early night before school life kicks in. On top of all that, I have to go grocery shopping tomorrow.”

“I can’t stop, either. I’m pushing it with the long practice already.” Ginjima’s face turned dark. “It’s our monthly family night.”

“Me, too. I’m on babysitting duty,” Omimi told, his expression faithfully stoic.

Checking his phone for the timetable of the train station just up the slight hill to their left, Kita asked with his eyes down. “Where do you get off?”

“Wherever I can-” Hanabusa sucked both of her lips inside her mouth and clenched her teeth down on them.  Oh, fuck. She really hoped that flew over their heads. “The closes stop to Okamoto.”

Sniggering, Akagi and Osamu pinched their lips at the double entendre that only they seemed to catch.

“I get off the stop before there,” Ginjima told and hitched his bag up his shoulder. “I’ll wait with ya and show ya the way.”

Saying their goodbyes, Ginjima and Hanabusa clomped up the platform steps and sat in the outdoor seats which were surprisingly empty for a Friday night. The air was brisk and it had grown dark over four hours ago. Sat rigid, his back completely straight and at least six inches from the metal colander-like backrest, the Wing Spiker looked around at everything but the girl sat on the seat next to his. The same slate covered spaces divided by steel tracks; the same chewing gum patches near the auto-machines which printed out tickets; the same bird-crap smeared down the sign stating where they were. As long as it wasn’t anywhere near the girl resting her elbows on her knees with her school blouse open regardless of the dire temperatures, he would be fine.

Hanabusa could feel the awkwardness radiate from the mousy-haired flying-monkey. She was way more than acceptable this kind of output from other people than should be normal but instead of ignoring it and playing the game on her phone as would be usual, she sat up a little and spoke. “I heard you have sisters earlier-”

“Yes!”

Blinking at the sharp reply, she couldn’t help but to grin. “Are they older or younger? How many? Do you have a big family?”

“Two older, one younger,” Ginjima spoke firmly, as if replying to a Drill Sergeant in the military but eased up on the volume when he accidentally caught her eye. "Hm, no - just my sisters and Ma. You?"

“Heh~ I bet that’s a rough go of it.” Finishing closing the tabs on her cell, Hanabusa leaned back to look the boy in the eye as they conversed. “It’s just my old man and I but I get annoyed with my own feminine ways; the amount of time it takes to do anything - showering, shaving, drying hair, skin-care, even doing laundry. You have my condolences.” Wafting her hand, she snorted a laugh. “Waiting for the bathroom alone is no joke. I'm glad there's only me and him when it comes to sharing a space.”

Slackening at the words, or maybe perhaps the way she was candid about things most girls his age would keep to themselves, Ginjima kept his eyes on his feet. “They’re all hard-asses who monopolize the apartment but I don’t think I’ve met any other girls like them; they’re always working so hard for our family.” Gaining enough of whatever it was that made him look the stranger in the eye, he clenched his fists and pressed them into his thighs above his knees. “It makes me doubt myself sometimes, ya know, just playing sports when I could help out and get a job.”

“If they’re hard-asses, don’t you think they’d tell you straight if you were burdening them?” Wiping stray hairs back off her face when the wind picked up and ragged past them, she shrugged. “I obviously don’t know them, but if they’re anything like you, I’m sure they’d tell you straight if what you were, or were not, doing was a problem.”

“I haven’t spoken to the guys like this. I-I don’t even know why I’m talking to you about it. You don’t give a shit about my problems.”

“It’s my feminine wiles; I come across as demure when I keep my gob shut,” she grinned, her plump cheeks pushing her eyes shut from the toothy smile. “And please don’t get ahead of yourself. Very few people can completely turn off their emotions when switching from one aspect of their life to another. I may not know you, or any of the others personally yet, but I do hope I can help, if even a little bit - in the club, or otherwise.”

“Why though?” Ginjima had now fully turned around to inspect his company. “You were pretty much coerced into joining as the manager and have dealt with the Miya’s fuckery all day.”

“If called up on this at a later date I’ll deny it to the high heavens, but really, having someone make me feel like I’m needed and wanted, if even out of mere desperation, has began to change part of my perspective.”

“No offence, Hanabusa San, but even as wacky as you are, I find it hard to imagine anybody not wanting you.” Realizing the implication of his wording, Ginjima flung his hands around between them. “I-I just mean, you seem honest and considerate, and you take jokes well. You even spent your free time helping Riseki’s classmate in the library, didn’t you?” Continuing to shake his hands, as if to waft away any misunderstanding, the Wing Spiker averted his gaze. "You don't seem like a bad person to be around."

“I wouldn’t consider it free time but yes, I did help her - although it was more of an exchange, rather than a favour.”

Ginjima's face screwed up and he unwound the knots at his temples. “He’s had a crush on her since his induction; she seems like a lovely girl but honestly, I'm sick of hearing 'im pine over her.”

Almost shooting through the overhanging roof of the outdoor seating, Hanabusa beamed. “Kyahahaha~”

Startled enough to recoil, Ginjima warily inspected the female beside him as if she’d lost her mind. “Why are ya laughing like a villain?”

“She told me she likes him but she’s sure he has no romantic interest in her.”

“’Girl’s crazy if she thinks that; he doesn’t shut up about her.”

Dark glint in her eyes and verging on a slasher-smile, Hanabusa cooed. “Shall we be social heroes and get them together, together?”

Ginjima couldn't quite read the warped expression of his company. If he was honest with himself, he didn't think he wanted to know, either. “Like, together in an intense way, or work together as a team?”

“Both.”

Head down again, Ginjima stared at his fingers interlocked between his knees. “Ya know, when you came to the gym last night, I thought ya were runnin' a con and had used our Captain’s good nature to infiltrate our club with unsavoury motives.”

“And now?”

“Oh, now? I’m sure you have ulterior motives but I don’t think they’re entirely bad, or untoward us so maybe, it could be kinda fun.” Peering up, his face constricted when he realised he’d have to look her in the eye. Pinching his lips, he flicked his travel pass aimlessly. “Ya’know, having someone knew around...it might not be so bad.”

Huffing at the behaviour which was more like a teen girl than her own teen-girl-self, Hanabusa huffed a chuckle with the roll of her eyes. “You guys are all as wacky as you ‘think’ I am.”

“Unlikely.” He shook his head adamantly at the remark and stood up when the chime of the upcoming train caught his ears. “This is us.”

The pair entered the second cart becoming full from the last three stops, but at least there was enough space for the pair to sit next to each other. Getting settled on the bench, their bodies touching, Hanabusa put her baggage underneath her seat while the boy sat on the very ledge with his eyes on the digital display monitor just to the right of the automatic doors. Hanabusa continued to yank at the bags to make sure there was plenty of space for people to get by but Ginjima still seemed awkward. “Why are you sitting so far away; do I smell? It’s Friday after 7pm. Won’t it get packed soon? i stink, right - I'm so sorry-”

“Y-you’re touching me.”

“I can’t do much about that - I struggle with my weigh-”

“-No! That’s not what I meant. I-I-you’re warm.”

“Yeah, I run hot all year ‘round.”

“No…Your ch-chest…it was touching my arm.”

“Oh, is that it?” She laughed and tried to inch into the corner by the metal pole by the door in order to turn and face Ginjima. “You live with four other girls though. Don’t you ever share a sofa? ‘You telling me not one of your female family leans on you?”

“Yeah, they do. They practically use me as a couch cushion, but they’re my relatives - you aren’t. You’re a girl my age with b-bo-boo-”

“C’mon, you can say it,” she held her smirk as she pushed him to say the word.

Steam flying off his head, the Wing Spiker tried to say the formal term but all that came out was a high-pitched expelled of air. “Boobs.”

“’Your mother and sisters don’t have titties?”

"Please don't call them that..." Shielding his face, the boy spoke into the hands holding his head. “Actually, they’re all as flat as ironing boards.”

Rolling her eyes, Hanabusa pointed to the aisle. “What am I going to do with you lot? Shall I sit on the other side or stand up?”

“I have to get off the stop be-” Halting his train of thought, Ginjima glanced around the cart filled with male college students and businessmen. “I’ll get off at your stop and show you the way back to make sure you get there.”

Quirking her brow at the sudden turn, the girl wafted away the silliness of his words. “It’s not a post-apocalyptic world. I am more than capable at getting back by myself.”

Suddenly sat up rigid, Ginjima scouted the surrounding compact space. “No,” he picked out at least three males with lecherous stares directed at their precious manager. "No; nope.” He’d never really thought about it before now because he didn’t travel with his family, but honestly, couldn’t those pricks keep their eyes to themselves? Sure, she had massive…Uh, well, that shouldn’t matter. She was wearing a high school skirt and tie regardless of how anyone tried to worm their way around it. Was this what his sisters and mother had to put up with when using public transport? Fuck, he hated what he was seeing right now - he hated his thoughts just as much for bringing his family into it. This was going to bother him forever now.

Repeatedly tapping the shoulder closest to her, Hanabusa frowned at the sudden burst of outward aggression towards strangers. “Hitoshi San, why are you glowering? You look like you’re on the verge of growling; I’m gonna be asked for a pet-plan by the conductor if you don’t chill.”

“I won’t let you go back home by yourself in good conscience.” Adjusting a little to pay notice to her incessant tapping between where his chest and shoulder met, Ginjima looked to the plump girl who had squished herself into the corner. "And you don't have to be so polite. Just call me Hitoshi like the others."

Resting her palm over his forearm, she shrugged the shoulder plastered to hers. “Only if you stop growling; you don’t have to fight for me.”

The look she gave caused his shoulders to slacken and his hands to unknowingly fall to his lap. “Aren’t you scared by people looking at you like that?”

“People have always looked at me with abhorrence or ridicule, so a little lewd glance doesn’t even register any more.” Pulling her shirt closed to ease the boy beside her, Hanabusa redirected his line of sight by using her finger to turn his chin towards her. “I’ll tell you this: it’s better to be looked at like that than being in the cross-hairs of a petty person who has it in for you.”

“It shouldn’t!”

“No, it shouldn’t, but it is.” Soothing over the growing irritation of the Wing Spiker by patting his wrist, she sniffled her nose clear of the city dust. “Regardless of it, I don’t need you to be my white knight; I don't need anyone to protect me, no matter how good their intentions are...or how bad somebody elses are.” 

 

Forgetting all of his awkwardness when he received that remark, Ginjima scowled, his words falling out of his mouth without a second thought. "Just because you feel like you don't need it, it doesn't mean that you don't actually need it."

 

Tilting her head, Hanabusa quirked her brow, "is that so? Shall I make you my therapist, Hitoshi?"

 

"E-eh? I-I didn't mean anything by it-" The instant stiffening of his form and the stuttering made Hanabusa refrain a grin. "If we're gonna be friends, you're gonna have to get use to my personality and way of speaking: I'm blunt and will make jokes that are generally in bad taste, so stop spluttering, stalling and wondering if I'm about to slap you for your honest answers - I'm not - speak plainly with me. It's awkward for me to use polite speech with people my age."

 

Ginjima had taken on a pallid hue like he'd been on a sea boat for far too long. It was down to his yearmate's attitude. He couldn't quite grasp where to stand regardless of her telling him so - it was almost like she was testing him to over-step and his brain was not up to that kind of mental warfare. This was why he was a Wing Spiker and not a Setter - or in the top of B class. "More than the way you say it - because everything you say is so damn dry or sarcastic - it's the expression you say it with." Ginjima held his hand over his chest with a wince. "It's scary."

 

Proving what he had just said, the ashen girl remained straight-faced while she leant forward and fixed her socks while men twice her age ogled the cleavage which swallowed her collarbone in that position. "I'll have you know I was born with this face. I get told off so much by old people for my scowl - I can't help it; my bad."

 

"It's not a bad face-Ah! No-I-"

 

"I get it, don't stress out." Easing to an upright position, Hanabusa rested her right elbow on her knee in order to put on the act of pretending to be a camera with her hands.

 

Shying away from the camera-hands, Ginjima wafted the girl, "at least, if nothing else, when we get to the competition phase, you can terrify our rivals with your glare."

 

"Heh? I haven't glared at anyone yet."

 

Jolting so hard, the Wing Spiker almot shot to his feet. "...W-what?"