syl

a. about, boundaries & rules

b. table of contents tokyorev - haikyuu - naruto - obey me - knb - gachiakuta (soon!)

c. miscellaneous othr.events - journal entries

GACHIAKUTA RACING AU

deciphered omg or fast and furious whatever racing BUT UGH i js got the idea cos i saw enjin's tattoos !!!!! might have to start writing for them soon

A light orange hue spreads throughout the sky, a reminder, like the previous days and with the next, that the day was near its end. It was still bright out though. There still remained another hour before the sun finally sets.

At the back of the house, the patio, where you sat on your wheelchair, you used this final hour to admire and appreciate your garden filled with marvelous flowers.

Due to the condition of your legs, you were limited to almost everything. Spaces were too tight and sometimes packed in trains, in malls, in schools, even. It was hard to live in the city, which is why you chose to move to the countryside where your mother resided.

The scenery was colourful in your eyes, you had all kinds of flowers in your yard. While they are utterly beautiful, majority of the flowers you have grown have some dark or rather sad meanings.

Although a bit biased, the scenery was breathtaking. The various flowers spread across the garden and you're just there, taking it all with your eyes as you rest right in front of it all. At least you could afford this luxury of leisure. It would've been nice to be able to run around or bask in the middle of it all, feeling the leaves and the dirt beneath your skin but you lost all control and feeling below the waist.

Nothing compared to seeing, though.

"[Name], my teammates are visiting. They're inside, you might enjoy their company." Wakatoshi suggested. He knew your handicap became an obstacle in your social life when you were sent away from the city and back to the provincial life.

You lost meaningful contact with your small circle of friends, and you couldn't socialize here now when the act of leaving outside the door was difficult. Of course, it was depressing.

You hesitated for a bit. Nobody really cared anymore about handicaps or whatever uncommon traits people had, but being treated like a fragile thing was as bad as they can get despite good intentions, and the possibility of that happening when you enter back inside the house is...

At least for once, you wanted someone to look at you and not your handicap.

"Um..."

"Don't worry, they're not the kind of people you think they are. I can at least vouch for them."

You nod.

Even the architecture of the house was an obstacle to you, for now, at least. There were steep drops along the edges of the open patio, well, steep because you're in a wheelchair and sitting. It would've been nothing if you could walk. For now, you had to prop yourself up along the edge and have Wakatoshi lift the wheelchair, before helping you back on it.

"I can wheel myself there."

An awkward chuckle, you didn't want to seem sickly in front of people you'll probably never see again. You could at least make the most out of this first impression, if there even were any to spare for you.

"It's a typical traditional Japanese house. I knew the Ushijima household would be like this but I didn't expect it to seriously be traditional as heck!"

What a loud boy.

"Tendou, keep it down a bit."

"Sorry, my bad, Reon. Hey, Tsutomu!–"

"Tendou-san, you're–"

Whatever volume they'd been conversing at quieted down when the shoji doors slid open. Wakatoshi walked in the room first, followed by you in a wheelchair.

You met eyes with everyone in the room for a second or two. They had their bags strewn in a disorganized manner yet respectful enough for space to exist.

But there's that look. That look you get on the first second someone lays their eyes on you for the first time. It gave rise to a bad feeling in your gut, nearly leaving you spiraling right at that second—

"Oh! You must be Wakatoshi's sibling! I'm Tendou!"

A very bright redhead, literally, introduces himself first. You were unsure of how to act with a lively personality around, and you nod, "[Name]."

He laughs heartily, noting that you and Wakatoshi truly are siblings because that's definitely how your brother first reacted to Tendou when greeted for the first time.

It was nearly time for supper. Wakatoshi and a few other guys who you'd learnt the names—Reon and Tsutomu, had begun helping setting up dinner. Eita and Kenjiro stayed with you around the table, and Taichi was still asleep in the next room to recuperate from the trip here.

Turns out, because of Semi Eita's influence, the volleyball team also had another persona outside the court—they formed a band. A mishmash of talents, if you'd call it talents, but they sounded coherent... sometimes.

Eita sampled a few songs for you to enjoy while Kenjiro sang a few, the rest he left for Eita to sing.

-

hello! this is part of my partial works series in which i publish my drafts from years ago as is. these are drafts written when i was much younger and i just wanted to honor these by posting them, despite not having finished or not being able to finish these stories. nonetheless, thank you for reading. this series is open for continuation if there are any interested, just ask for permission. ❤️

au where you're married to neji and he dies a few years after the war, takes place during the boruto timeline —

Neji and Shikamaru, the Hokage's right hand men, always there for Naruto in and out of the office. Now, you took Neji's place as an honorary.

With time, you learned to love working at the Hokage's office, doing mundane works, advising Naruto, sometimes handling heavier duties as well. There came many conflicts but you loved the simplicity of the work's principle. Maybe you'd adapted this from Shikamaru, as you work side by side with him under the Hokage.

With that, you can't help but address them in the same manner you always did when you were younger. There was never a sense of formality with you towards your generation of shinobi or even towards all of your sensei, there was still a hint of childlike playfulness that stuck and never ceased.

It's what the people around you love about you, the total opposite of your partner for life, Neji. Well, he definitely isn't alive anymore for you to call it "for life" but it still stands because you are. You're way too young to be widowed but life has its reasons, and you know it yourself you wouldn't let anyone else take Neji's place in your heart. It was never possible anyway.

You rarely returned home during the night, it was far too painful. Many years have passed since then, your niece and nephew have grown big, but you're still behind. Still stuck at the exit door to leave behind the past and move forward from the grief, you just couldn't bring yourself to do it.

As time passed since then, everyone's visits to Neji have gradually become weekly, to monthly, and now yearly. While you, you visit him as much as you can in a week. Even if the strong feelings and commitment you held have faded as the time passed, there were still some lingering and still strong enough to keep you from really moving forward.

Strong enough to keep grieving and visiting, still in denial about the fact and hoping you'd one day see him sitting by the tombstone and laugh at you, wondering where you've been heading off to almost everyday every week, visiting a tombstone neither of you knew whose because he was just right here.

However, you're not delusional enough to seriously believe in that, there are just tinges of hope.

Due to how late you'd stay at the Hokage's office, Naruto had built you a spacious room on the floor below. It was where you stayed, cooped yourself up, and buried in paperwork and other matters concerning the Hokage and everything else in the village that you had to handle in the background.

Neji and you built yourselves a home but that's why it hurts, because you two built that home but there was no Neji to come home to. After all these years, there still lingered a staggering pain in your chest when you enter the house.

Neji never once let you forget about him. There was always a whiff of him somewhere in the place that you catch and it's always at times you've been let in on some peace from the grief. You'd sometimes hear his voice in your head, a vivid perception of his voice but it's not present in the house. There was nothing scary about it, rather, you found it oddly comforting but waves of melancholy would wash over you in just a matter of minutes.

I miss him. I miss him so, so bad.

-

Some may not return the sentiment but stories have always been the center of my universe. It's the reason I live because who am I when the pen drops and I stop typing? Who am I outside of the life I built for myself, enclosed in books, in words carefully structured to form the world I've always longed for?

What a weird thing it is to grow up. Despite how much I went through, I find myself reminiscing about the trivial and mundane days that I found little joys in. I wish I could go back. I'd do it all over again. I'd do anything to write for the first time, to publish on Wattpad for the first time, to read fanfiction for the first time, to pick up and read again the first book that got me into reading and writing... everything used to be so simple and childlike.

Now, responsibilities weigh heavier. I thought I had much to do back then, I didn't think it'd become more serious now that I've surpassed the ages I've lied about being on the internet. I thought these years were so magical because I always saw them to be, but I was just a child.

I want to stay innocent forever. Not knowing a single thing, not burdened by anything, just carefree, brave and eager to step foot on the real world. I wish I hadn't been so eager to, because now I miss it all so much. I wish I could just go back.

I miss watching anime like time didn't exist, experiencing online classes and having peaceful and quiet days. When I used to have 101% motivation, not thinking about college too much yet because it was only still a dream, still too far off to do anything substantial about. That time I wrote stories like it was my 9-5, like I was getting paid with how frequently and timely I used to write. I researched and brainstormed as though stopping now would make them all disappear if I did even for a second.

Is it a lost passion or just covered in dust, waiting to be swept and acknowledged again?

I don't understand myself. I love karate so much, but I don't want to go back. At every call from my instructor to go back and train, I end up with an excuse not to go—I'm too busy, I have exams coming up, I have schoolwork to tend to.

Or maybe it's shame.

I'm ashamed of myself. I built myself in this club and this community, half of my personality is thanks to karate. Majority of my development is thanks to karate. My values and discipline is a reflection of karate.

At some point in time, I started losing myself then I became ashamed of myself and my losses to even go back and train. It was a fight of honoring where I stood and what karate, my belt, and my wins meant to me, and how I appeared to my peers. It no longer became a place of training to become better, but training to keep up appearances and my pride intact.

I no longer became an active member. I was like a gust of wind, coming back strong for a while only to disappear later. I became discouraged when I was shown an ounce of disrespect. Maybe they didn't mean to outright disrespect me, just a little banter, but I couldn't take it given my state of mind during that time. It made me overthink, was I not worthy of respect, given my belt? Or was I not respected because of how I received my belt?

Even my days of training became unsure yet I still steadily moved up ranks like the rest. I, of course, demonstrated my skills, especially kata. I do well in kata. That's how I got a purple belt. We were tasked to perform a lower belt's kata blindfolded and my form was apparently good and I had good direction until I turned back and slowly started going diagonal. It was still good, as told by my instructors and seniors.

Fast forward months later, more juniors came to join the club and I seldom saw them and yet when I did, I couldn't even receive a bow. I was the one to bow with full respect, yet I would only receive an "ossu" or a glance. Not even a turn around to bow, and just because they'd already turned their backs, they'd forever turn them on me too. I guess that's what discouraged me.

Or maybe it's because what once became mine to hold were held by someone else. She's far better, she deserves it. She trains constantly, her determination and passion unwavering and she's moving up and up. She became the one to lead the oath last NOrSAA, and my pride took a blow. I remember I once looked up at a senior, who is now an international player, he was the one to lead those every start of the tournament and I strived to become the next athlete in his place, but I longer have that. I can't catch up anymore because the realities of life are catching up to me.

I once held that dream, a dream that's now somebody else's reality. I'll forever be stuck here, dreaming, while she lives out my dream—my dream becoming her reality. I'm becoming redundant. I admit, I'm jealous. I'm so jealous, but I can't bring myself to bear ill feelings because I know where I lack, and I know my own shortcomings. I should've trained consistently, I shouldn't have been with the people who messed up my life because if things had gone a different direction, maybe I wouldn't be saying any of these things.

I don't feel worthy of holding onto this passion—this passion I failed to nurture. A wall of shame now builds itself, partitioning myself and my love for this art, but what tools do I have to break through it? Does it stand firm between us or am I turning my eye from what I actually have to break through it and hold it—this passion—once more?

But I'm not ready to face what's beyond this wall. I know what awaits me, but I also don't. There's too much uncertainty but this uncertainty comes from my own insecurities on what people perceive me to be. 'A fallen talent,' I bet. There's someone better out there, they don't need me. I'm no longer the one they look at. Best in kata? That's no longer something I hold, because when they hear that, someone else reaches their thoughts and that's not me. I feel so much shame, wearing a high rank belt yet I don't show up when I'm supposed to. I wear a high rank belt when someone else deserves an acceleration. I wear a high rank belt yet I don't prove myself worthy, I've fallen from my podium and I don't deserve to wear this with pride.

'I deserve this,' I remind myself, 'It was approved by the sensei,' I reason with myself yet even with that proof, I can't accept it in my heart. I don't deserve it. Before rank acceleration, I always strive to become someone worthy of the next belt whether that's mastering my form or building my character, that's why I could always wear my belt with pride, even at orange. But purple? I'm ashamed. I've lagged behind. I shouldn't compare my progress beside others' but I can't help it, I'm not deserving of it.

Ever since I started karate, I always hung up my medals on the wall by my bed. They look down at me from my right side to remind me of what I work hard for and what I love so much, my whole being is encompassed by it. Yet one night, I took them down. I hid them away in my drawer and they never saw light again. I brought them back up but it no longer feels the same.