°SETTER

Who could have imagined something like this would have happened? It was like- everything was proceeding as usual, the normal and boring everyday life… and as if out of nowhere, things went wrong. And now the world was practically a desolate wasteland. Few places remained where there was plenty of green, life. Even the majority of the population was wiped out, save for a few scattered across the world. Kai and Namazu being just two of them. Having met previously just before the world was essentially destroyed. 

Turning to look at the other upon hearing his name, Kai hummed to himself for a moment. Seeing all the others huddled up int he diner with them… seeing the look of despair, fear, sadness… it was hard to believe that things could ever go back to normal. Pulling a cigarette from his pocket, Kai lit it up.

“Probably not. At least… not in the way normal was before.” He finally answered, keeping his eyes locked on Namazu. “Too much has been lost for it to just go back, you know? But… I do believe that things could get better. Some sort of semblance of what was lost. But it’s up to us and others to make that happen.” It was too easy to fall into hopelessness and despair. But should that happen… things wouldn’t get better. Cause people wouldn’t even see a point in trying.

“i wish it could be so easy.” namazu sighed, air whispering almost silently from his nostrils. by now he’d have expected everybody left to band together and try to restore what had been lost, but it could never be that simple. some people enjoyed this new world: a world free of authority, free of rules, free of a hierarchy. those who were weak before the apocalypse had a chance to, finally, have a sense of strength -- some desired superiority -- in their lives. the teen rose from the ledge of the window, and swiped some dust from his bare elbow with a free hand.

his hands were ever so blistered. not due to heat, nor due to wounds, but due to his tendency to nervously dig his nails against his palms when he was frightened. he had become increasingly better at masking his emotions over the past few months ( but of course, only so much could be done ) and it had resulted in a fine set of little scars marking his palms. namazu was fully aware of the scars: they were a testimony to how afraid he was, and whenever he saw them it only inspired him to be stronger. the male gathered himself, clenching a fist and tightening it firmly in determination.

           Arms loaded with bags of her own, though not quite as many as the other clutched, the girl jumped slightly at the sound of her name ringing clearly through the mall. She quickly recovers, a small smile presented for the approaching figure as her eyes lifted to identify the newcomer– if she recalls correctly, the boy hailed from Nekoma’s volleyball team & played as their pinch server, Namazu, as he introduced himself before.           ❝ I see you have gotten some shopping done, ❞ a curt nod is directed towards the bundles of purchases that swung at his sides ( a part of her wondered what it could possibly be for ), before a startled look crossed her features at his abrupt request, mind only drawing a blank from being put on the spot so quickly. A sheepish smile graced the corners of her mouth as she hefted her own bags further up her arm,            ❝ Ahh well– it would depend on the occasion …❞

“um....” the occasion. as much as he would have liked to call it a mother’s day present, he’d never really called his adoptive parents his ‘mother’ or ‘father’. for a minute he froze up, the grip on his bags stiffening. namazu wasn’t really sure what to label the occasion. no matter how much he was nurtured and valued by the people in his household, it simply didn’t feel all that right to label them as his ‘family’. his lips stiffened and pursed little, as if they couldn’t decide whether to smile it off or not.  

          “…Susumu Youko. Also second-year, class four.” She delivered the answer quietly, having resisted the urge to roll her eyes (however slightly) in response to what she assumed was an attempt at a joke. Of course, it brought to mind the question of what he did – she could only assume that he, too, was a member of a sports club.

          The girl looked down, considering what more to say as a means of telling him about herself. He’d asked, after all, and it wasn’t as though she had any skeletons in her proverbial closet. “I’m the transfer student.” News of a new student had a tendency to travel quickly, at least through the year to which they belonged. It was odd, too, to receive somebody after the school year had officially started - she’d only moved to Tokyo during the tail end of summer break mere weeks ago. She assumed he’d at least have heard mention of her.

          “Wing spiker, too, of the girl’s volleyball club.”

“ah. the new transfer student.” word had circulated around a few of namazu’s classes, and mention of a ‘new student’ had certainly peaked his interest. after all, he had already gotten to know essentially everybody else in the second year ( mostly in case he had to dig up any dirt on them ) but he had yet to find anything out about the new transfer. anticipation of the spring tournament had him attending to other things such as his volleyball practice which, admittedly, he’d skipped more than a few classes to attend.

@tigerlibero || platonic acts of affection || 📷 - take selfies with my muse

“yumi-chan!! nekoma are moving on to the next stage of the interhighs!!”

namazu arched his body down approximately one foot and three inches to be on the same level as yumi, snapping a celebratory picture ( flash on and EVERYTHING… ) before she had any time to resist his gesture. the setter threw up a cheesy, cliche peace sign besides yumi with his free hand and grinned widely in celebration of his team’s victory. 

summer solstice. the perfect day to enjoy the peak of the most beautiful weather which the sun could provide. whilst it could be argued that there were days of the year that were much more eventful, namazu found a strange sense of bliss from simply admiring the weather on a day like this. the warm rays of the sun soaked his skin, and he draped himself lazily across a ( rather dangerously high ) brick wall, forgetting about any of his problems. that was, until he let his instinct get the better of him, where he began to drift into sleep and unconsciously came tumbling off of the brick wall and to the jagged pavement below with a harsh landing.

( ‘damn it ... he’s smart. looks like i’m gonna have to step things up..’ )

his claws tightened around the ball, his expression stiffening: this was his zone, the perfect state of mind for him to conduct a serve. the fiery beat of his blood burned hotter and hotter as he planned his attack, a piercing gaze surveying each corner, each sector, each nook and cranny of the opposite side of the court. namazu wasn’t playing games anymore. he had to put everything into this next serve if nekoma wanted to even the odds once more. the pinch server didn’t even feel nervous with the fate of the game in his hands -- the right hand corner of the court, the serving position, was his home turf. the entire nekoma team knew it, the crowd knew it, and that’s why their roars went silent.

here it goes. the only chance nekoma might get to equalise.

most normal people saw september as the beginning of autumn ( or from a nihilist’s point of view, the beginning of the end ). however, namazu was neither a nihilist or a normal person, and so he saw september as crucial training time, since the interhigh tournament would be coming up soon. day in and day out, namazu had been training his abilities to their fullest potential, spending all of his free time ( and ditching some lessons ) to train in the school’s gym and perfect his sets or serves. class had just ended, and he was itching to discuss the upcoming tournaments with somebody. and who better to discuss them with than the ace of the nekoma girl’s team??

the rain had been cascading against the windows of the shanty diner for nearly seven hours: namazu had been doing nothing but keeping count of that time. seconds, minutes, hours, and he continued to track the time whilst nobody else could. nothing was the same: everybody had an essential role to fulfil now that the world had collapsed on itself: currencies, power grids, communications, and even the morals of the people. they were nowhere to be found. a dog-eat-dog world now, yet the small few survivors in the diner wished only to continue to survive, but try as they might, their days were numbered.

@tigerlibero || five word prompts

namazu’s palms flared as he watched his team’s spike fall short, an expectant sigh having escaped his lips as the volleyball came thundering back down to their side of the court. did he set the ball incorrectly?? the stinging sensation in his palms was not the buzz of pulling off a perfect attack, but a guilt so profound that it actually felt tangible to him. failure was one of his greatest fears, and the setter could not help but be convinced that he was the reason why nekoma’s spike was blocked. with the game over, namazu walked away from the court with his head held low, mumbling as he lonesomely drifted past the manager.