winnie ☆

Disclaimer: This is going to have mentions of past abuse and supposedly illegal behaviour, but considering it’s Gangsta we’re talking about, I don’t think anyone should be surprised by darker themes addresses.

Birthdays…Have always been tedious. A drag. More work than they are worth…So, I wonder…Why do I actually bother doing a party at my home?

I mean, it’s true, I get it, I’m 21, I’m of age…Legally an adult, legally allowed to drink, legally everything whatever…The same as it has been for the past 3 years…

And MAYBE it’s fun to sometimes gather around with your friends and do the same things everyone always does at parties, loud music, alcohol, cigarettes and gossips…

But there is always that annoying anxiety feeling surging through my veins whenever I have to be around more than 3 of my friends, considering this is a party organised by me, and everything has to be done perfectly, everyone must feel good, and at home, not to be left out…

I can already envision myself being the only outcast, anyway, but that’s besides the point.

It’s already evening, the alcohol is sitting on the table, the pizza boxes are stacked up in a mountain on the floor, plastic cups everywhere, ash trays placed strategically, dim lights, coloured light projectors to make the room look like a disco…

And then there’s me. Sitting anxiously on the couch in the living room, dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a long plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up, along with some silver rings and a necklace. Casual, comfy, yet pretty elegant in its simplicity.

My friends arrived soon, very loudly congratulating me on aging one more year, fantastic…But they had a mischievous smirk on their faces…

And they brought in a tall, blond man who looked very macho, and I could only blink in confusion as everyone walked inside.

Not all of the people reading your x reader fics have white skin

Just a gentle reminder before you write characteristics that assume whiteness and exclude your black/indigenous/poc supporters-specifically in 'x reader' works.

I love and appreciate writers, but this is a recurring avoidable issue (going on for decades now).

“Your face flushed” "your dusky pink nipples" "your face turned just as red as his" "he could see the blush on your face" “your cheeks furiously blushed” “your ears burn bright red” “The look in your reddened face” “your knuckles white with effort” “bruised purple against your light skin”

Describing the physical feeling instead of the visual change helps include your readers while also elevating your writing IMO.

Anyone can say "Your cheeks turned red with embarrassment" or "Your face flushed" but wouldn't you rather say "A burning heat rushed across your face, from your neck to the tip of your nose, prickling right underneath the surface. You look anywhere but him, hoping your newfound interest in the buildings ceiling tiles will ease the fire tightening beneath your skin" And instead of the other character pointing out that the readers face is red, they can point out the obvious flustered facial expression/body language.

If you want your reader insert to have white/fairskin, then just label them white!reader or put the mention in the warnings/summary.

↪I have reached out to writers I favored/supported before and sometimes I have been met with severe hostility and defensiveness. I often wonder if people are doing this purposefully or for some reason think only white people read their fanfics (?)-if that's the case then be upfront and label your reader inserts as white!reader or something PLEASE. It’s gotten to the point where I feel like black women and other POC aren’t wanted or considered in these fandoms because it comes off like that in your writing. If you need a different motivation, just know you're missing out on more interactions, reblogs, and a bigger reader base. I don’t know why white is the default for so many writers in unspecified x reader/reader insert fics-the people on your blog following, reading, and supporting you aren’t all white and fair-skinned.

I am not talking about OC fics or fics where race/skintone is x specified in summary or warnings. This is specifically about unspecified "x reader" where whiteness is assumed as the default

summary : After moving to Japan over a year ago, [Name] faces the challenges of xenophobia, cultural barriers, and fitting into a society that sees her as an outsider. As she struggles with isolation, an unexpected encounter with Hanamichi Sakuragi, the school's notorious red-haired delinquent, throws her life into even more chaos. Between harsh whispers in the hallways and the surprising friendships she forms, [Name] is about to discover that fitting in means more than just blending into the background.

notes : hey...🧍🏿‍♀️how you doing LMAOOO MY BAD Y’ALL I WAS UNMOTIVATED SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE READING 🎀 ! lowkey wanna make a hanamichi x reader but aargh idkk, karin is the bully’s name btw in case you forgot

wc : around 3k

MASTERLIST

III. THE DUAL

— Her gaze fell on Hanamichi, sharp and desperate, the kind of look that screamed, Why must you always make things harder? Her lips parted slightly as if words might follow, but none came, only a long, exasperated sigh that said it all. There was no need for explanation—the message was clear in the weight of her stare, a silent plea for him to stop whatever ridiculous scheme he was plotting before it spiraled completely out of control.

You pressed your palm to your forehead, inhaling sharply.

“Really? Didn’t I just say not to do anything stupid?” Your voice carried a tone of sheer exasperation, as though this situation had drained the last bit of patience she had left.

You glanced at Haruko, who was frozen in the doorway, her hands clutched tightly in front of her. The disbelief on Haruko's face was palpable, her wide eyes reflecting the shock of witnessing such a chaotic scene. Slowly, her expression shifted less startled and more... disappointed.

“You weren’t like this in my mind, Sakuragi-kun…” Haruko’s voice trailed off, her words soft yet firm, as though realizing that the image she'd built of him was crumbling.

You sighed heavily, already bracing yourself for the mess that would undoubtedly follow. You gave Hanamichi a sideways glance, your expression torn between irritation and resignation. "Great. Just great. Now she thinks you’re a lunatic," you muttered under your breath, crossing your arms as you waited for him to save what little he could of the moment.

Haruko who was standing frozen for a moment, her wide eyes locked on the crimson streak trickling down Rukawa’s forehead. Her heart pounded, not from admiration this time, but from a surge of worry she couldn't suppress. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she bit her lip.

"Sakuragi-kun..Everybody said that Sakuragi-kun was very bad and scary but I thought you weren’t that kind of person and wouldn’t do that sort of thing.."

You stand awkwardly near Hanamichi's gang, the air thick with a mix of tension and something else—an odd kind of awkwardness that’s hard to place. Your eyes drift to Rukawa, who remains utterly unfazed, the blood trickling from his forehead seemingly irrelevant to him. His expression is cool, detached, as though none of this concerns him. In contrast, Hanamichi is stiff beside you, his face flushed—not with anger, but with the unmistakable embarrassment of being in Haruko’s presence.

Caught in the awkward stillness, unsure whether to speak or stay silent. The tension feels like a rubber band stretched to its limit, but it’s not just about the fight anymore—it’s the quiet clash of emotions, embarrassment, and indifference that keeps everyone rooted in place.

“I misjudged you Sakuragi-kun !!” The young girl exclaimed before darting off in the opposite direction of Rukawa, leaving Sakuragi behind, wailing with exaggerated, almost comical tears streaming down his face.

You stared at the scene, completely lost. Everyone around you spoke so fast that the words blended together into an overwhelming blur. You furrowed your brow, glancing between the group and the direction the girl had run, trying to make sense of the chaos.

“Y-you guys speak too fast,” you muttered, sweat-dropping as you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. “I don’t fully understand what’s going on now...”

Sakuragi’s gang barely seemed to notice your confusion, too busy trying to calm their bawling leader, while Haruko was already a speck in the distance. You sighed, feeling more out of place than ever, the cultural gap yawning wide in moments like these. 

“I really need to catch up.”

–

A day had passed, and it didn’t take much to notice the strange shift in the redhead’s demeanor. Sakuragi, usually bursting with his trademark energy and overconfidence, seemed oddly down, his shoulders slumped as if carrying the weight of the world. There was a gloomy air about him that felt completely out of place. But the strangest part was his reaction to basketballs.

Whenever he passed by someone playing, his entire demeanor shifted. His jaw would tighten, and his eyes would narrow with an intensity that felt almost out of character. If the sound of dribbling reached his ears, his mood soured instantly.

And when his gaze fell on the players themselves laughing, shooting, and passing the ball it was as if a switch flipped.

Lost in his cloudy thoughts, Sakuragi’s foggy eyes barely registered the world around him. He didn’t even noticed the basketball hurtling toward him until it was too late. The impact was sharp and unforgiving, square on his face, sending him stumbling back slightly. Blood trickled from his nose, but to everyone’s shock, Sakuragi didn’t explode in his usual fiery rage.

The gang froze, wide-eyed, waiting for the inevitable outburst. But it never came. Instead, Sakuragi simply stood there, eerily calm. His hand reached up to touch his nose briefly, smearing the blood before his gaze dropped to the ball at his feet. Slowly, he crouched, picking it up in silence.

You could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy. The two responsible for the accident stood a few feet away, shaking like leaves in a storm. They knew all too well the redhead’s reputation as a hotheaded delinquent, and his uncharacteristic calm only made their fear worse.

From where you stood, you had seen everything unfold in real-time. Your jaw dropped, your mouth hanging open in disbelief. It wasn’t just the hit or the blood that caught you off guard—it was his reaction. Sakuragi was unpredictable, sure, but this? This was something entirely new, and it left you just as stunned as everyone else around him.

Quickening your pace toward the group, your thoughts raced just as fast. The hold Haruko has on him is insane, you mused, barely able to process the scene before you.

Everything escalated in the blink of an eye. Sakuragi, ball still in hand, suddenly lunged at the two boys responsible. They yelped out hurried apologies, but it didn’t stop him. His gang tried to intervene, only to be met with his infamous headbutts as he powered through anyone in his way. Caught in the whirlwind of chaos, you felt compelled to speak. “Hanamichi, r-remem…” you stuttered, the unfamiliar word catching on your tongue. You paused, frustration bubbling. “Man, how do you even pronounce that…?”

At the sound of your voice, Sakuragi froze mid-motion, turning to look at you. His expression softened just slightly, and, to your surprise, he actually answered. “Remember!” he said, enunciating the word with exaggerated clarity. “R-re... remem-ber?” you said hesitantly, your accent dragging the word into unfamiliar territory.

Sakuragi’s jaw dropped, his expression torn between disbelief and agony. “No! That’s not even close! Are you even trying?!” He threw his arms into the air, groaning dramatically. Your eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation bubbling up in your chest. “I am trying! You’re just not explaining it well!” you shot back, your voice defensive.

Sakuragi spun around, clutching his head like he was on the verge of losing his mind. “How hard can it be?! It’s one word!” Your cheeks burned, more from frustration than embarrassment, as you planted your hands on your hips. “Maybe if you stopped yelling at me, I’d actually get it!”

“Yelling?!” He whirled back to face you, his expression almost comically offended. “This isn’t yelling! I’m motivating you!”

You huffed, your lips tightening into a line as you fought to keep your composure. But your patience snapped when he mimicked you, his exaggerated pronunciation making your blood boil. “Motivating? You’re just being loud!” you snapped before switching to French, the words spilling out in a frustrated flurry. “Franchement, t’es insupportable! Tu crois que c’est comme ça qu’on apprend?!”*

Sakuragi blinked, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you like you’d just grown a second head. “Huh? What—what did you just say?!”

“I said you’re impossible!” you shot back, still in French, crossing your arms as you glared at him. “Et franchement, j’en ai marre de tes crises!”*

His confusion deepened, his brow furrowing as he tried—and failed—to decipher your words. “What’s that supposed to mean?! Are you making fun of me?!”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his bewildered expression. “Peut-être,”* you teased, your tone light but your eyes glinting mischievously.

“That’s it!” Sakuragi threw his hands up in the air, his face turning redder by the second. “You’re doing it on purpose! Stop speaking in... in whatever that is!”

“It’s French, idiot,” you said with a sigh, shaking your head as you rolled your eyes. “And if you don’t like it, maybe try being less i-nsuf— whatever…” You trailed off, still fumbling with the word. The tension thickened in the air as you struggled to pronounce it, and the frustration in your voice only made it worse.

Sakuragi, standing just a few steps away, couldn’t help himself. He let out a loud, mocking laugh, throwing his head back dramatically. “Insufferable?!” he repeated, his voice ringing with disbelief, practically gasping in exaggerated horror. “You can’t even say it right!”

You bit your lip, doing your best to keep your composure, though it was hard to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. You spun around quickly, your back facing him now as you muttered, “It’s not my fault you’re so annoying.” The last word slipped out a little too loudly, but you didn’t care anymore.

But you knew him well enough to understand that he wasn’t about to let it go. “And by the way,” you continued, your voice a little softer now, tinged with a hint of exasperation, “Haruko hates you right now.”

Sakuragi froze mid-laugh, his hand still outstretched in the air, his posture suddenly rigid. His face contorted for a moment, the usual cocky grin vanishing as reality hit him harder than any of your words could. His eyes flickered away from you, and his lips pressed into a thin line, a flicker of something vulnerable—something you hadn’t seen often—crossing his features. It was rare for him to drop the facade.

“You don’t have to remind me...” he muttered, his voice softer now, barely audible. The usual bravado that defined him faltered, leaving behind only the weight of his own frustration.

Your stance softened too, feeling an unexpected pang of sympathy. But you couldn't let him off the hook entirely. “Hey, it’s not like you’re entirely innocent,” you said, teasing lightly, though the tone didn’t come out quite as playful as you’d intended.

Suddenly, the familiar cockiness was back. Sakuragi’s shoulders tensed, his hands balling into fists as his voice cracked in a way you hadn't expected. “And how could I not?!” he added, his tone switching to one of genuine exasperation, his earlier nonchalance giving way to something more raw. “It’s because of basketball that Haruko-chan h-hates me!”

The moment hung in the air, his declaration louder and more serious than his usual bluster. His words, tinged with frustration and self-pity, rang in your ears long after they were spoken. The atmosphere shifted as you stood there, sweat-dropping, your mind spinning in confusion.

You glanced around quickly, seeing the gang recovering from the earlier chaos, clearly used to Sakuragi’s wild antics. But as you observed him, caught somewhere between self-doubt and irritation, it was hard to reconcile the blustering fool with the person standing before you now.

Meanwhile, the absurdity of it all settled into the moment. How could things go from ridiculous to awkward so quickly? The gang wondered, as you were about to apologize a new figure came into view. A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped forward, his presence immediately shifting the atmosphere. He wore a simple T-shirt, tucked neatly into his sport pants, the fabric stretching slightly over his muscular build. His posture was upright, exuding a quiet confidence, while his serious expression and sharp eyes made it clear that he wasn’t someone to be trifled with as he moved closer, the group instinctively quieted, sensing the weight of his authority, even though they had no idea who he was just yet.

Without a word, he reached forward, gripping Hanamichi's collar with surprising strength and pulling him back. 

“Not another fight, please…” you pleaded, your hands pressed together as you stepped forward. Your voice was a mix of frustration and hope, hoping to stop things before they got out of hand again. You looked around at the others, but no one seemed ready to intervene—everyone was too caught up in the tension, and it was clear they all expected things to get worse.

Mito and the others were caught off guard by the new arrival’s towering height and his clear, undeniable strength. You couldn’t help but stare as he scolded his teammates, the sharp knock he gave one of them on the top of their head showing just how much authority he carried. The tension in the air seemed to thicken, but before anyone could fully react, things shifted in a way none of you could have expected.

Out of nowhere, Hanamichi—of all people—stepped right in front of the new captain, his head tilted to the side, brows furrowed like he was trying to figure something out. And then, in true Hanamichi fashion, he slapped the basketball right into the captain’s face, with an unceremonious thwack that echoed across the school courtyard.

The group—you included—froze in a collective panic, watching as the captain stood there, completely unphased.

“Bastard!! WHAT CAPTAIN!? WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL?!” Hanamichi shouted, still oblivious to the gravity of the situation. His voice rang out, causing everyone to flinch as he thrashed in the grip of his friends, who were now trying their best to keep him from causing even more chaos.

“Hanamichi!!” someone yelled in desperation, their voice tinged with panic.

“Stop! The opponent isn’t human!!” Nozomi cried, clearly trying to make Hanamichi realize just how serious this was. The shock and urgency in his tone made it clear: this wasn’t just another schoolyard scuffle.

"I HATE THE BASKETBALL TEAM THE MOST!! WHAT'S SO GREAT ABOUT SUCH A CRAPPY GAME!?" Hanamichi shouted, his frustration reaching its peak. As you observed the scene, you could feel the tension mounting between him and the basketball team. The team captain’s demeanor changed almost instantly, his expression hardening as his anger flared.

“A crappy game?” The captain’s voice dropped, becoming much deeper, colder. His knuckles cracked ominously as he prepared to charge at Hanamichi. “YOU SAID IT WAS A CRAPPY GAME!! YOU FOOL, LET’S GO!” He shouted, his fury matching Hanamichi’s. But his teammates quickly intervened, grabbing him in an attempt to hold him back, knowing full well the potential chaos this confrontation could lead to.

Still, the captain was blinded by rage, just as Hanamichi was, neither of them willing to back down. It was as if the world had narrowed down to just them and their burning resentment.

“They are draining…” you muttered out loud, a sigh escaping you as you took in the scene. The gang, still holding onto Hanamichi to prevent him from charging again, couldn’t help but agree with you, their faces showing clear signs of exhaustion from the escalating situation.

And just then, the captain’s face morphed into something almost frightening. His expression darkened, his eyes narrowing in a way that sent a cold shiver down your spine. The intensity in his glare made it clear that this wasn’t just about a basketball game anymore—it was personal.

—

The idea of the year—a basketball duel. It seemed simple enough, but so far, Hanamichi looked less like the fiery challenger everyone expected and more like a sad puppy. His hands trembled, his wide eyes glistening as if on the verge of overflowing.

As Akagi, the team captain, sternly explained the rules, Hanamichi's composure completely crumbled. A single tear rolled down his cheek, quickly followed by another, until the tears were streaming freely. He didn’t even bother wiping them away, standing there looking utterly defeated before the game had even begun.

You could only sigh, crossing your arms as you shook your head. “Really?” you muttered under your breath.

The sight was equal parts pitiful and ridiculous, and yet, entirely in character for Hanamichi. You sighed again, wondering what on earth was going through his head. Was he really scared, or was this some sort of elaborate act?

Before you could dwell on it too long, his demeanor shifted in the blink of an eye. The tears vanished as if they’d never been there, replaced by a familiar, cocky grin. His chest puffed out, and he crossed his arms with exaggerated confidence.

“HAA DON’T UNDERESTIMATE ME!” he barked, his voice loud enough to echo across the school grounds. “I’ll steal your ball soon!” You blinked, baffled by the sudden change. One second, he was a teary mess, and now he was acting like he’d already won the match. The sheer audacity of it left you speechless, though you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

You stand near the edge of the court, eyes fixed on Hanamichi as he stumbles through the game. It’s not basketball; it’s a circus. But it’s his circus, and he’s putting on a show for everyone, due to the fact that his way of playing was...special.

The crowd watches with varying reactions: cheers, laughter, and, of course, the sharp-edged commentary from Karin and her group just a few feet away.

“Is he even trying?” Karin scoffs, her voice loud enough to carry. “Looks like he’s auditioning for a clown show.” A couple of her friends giggle, nudging each other. You glance at them, irritation bubbling up.

“At least he’s doing something,” you say, your voice steady despite your growing annoyance. “Unlike people who just talk and do nothing.” Karin’s head tilts, a mocking smile curling on her lips. “Oh, sorry, what was that? Can someone translate? I don’t speak... whatever she’s saying.”

Nozomi, Karin’s friend, was standing slightly apart from the group, doesn’t laugh. She crosses her arms and glances away, as if disinterested in the whole scene. Before you can respond, a familiar voice chimes in.

“Want a translation?” Yohei says, sauntering over with Hanamichi’s gang in tow. He throws a lazy grin at Karin’s group. “She said... at... least... he’s... got... guts,” he says, drawing each word out painfully slow, like he’s speaking to a child.

Ōkusu leans in, hands on his hips. “Uuunnlike... youuuuuu,” he adds with exaggerated enunciation. Karin’s friends exchange awkward looks, clearly unsure how to react. Karin glares at Yohei but doesn’t respond.

Noma takes it a step further, mimicking her tone. “What’s that? Didn’t catch it? Should we slow it down more?” You bite back a smile, watching as their mockery turns the tables. Even Nozomi’s lips twitch, though she quickly hides it by looking away.

Karin huffs, rolling her eyes. “Whatever. You’re all idiots,” she snaps before stalking off, her friends scrambling to follow. “Good riddance,” Yohei says, flashing you a grin. “Don’t let them get to you.” 

A small, genuine smile forms on your lips, and you give them a quick, thankful glance.

"Thanks, guys," you say, your voice steadier now. The tension eases, and for the first time in what feels like hours, you feel a spark of warmth in their camaraderie. And they were quick to go back into teasing their red head.

MASTERLIST

–

FRENCH DICTIONARAY

1.“Franchement, t’es insupportable! Tu crois que c’est comme ça qu’on apprend?!”* : to be honest you're annoying ! You think that’s how we learn?!"

2. “Et franchement, j’en ai marre de tes crises": and frankly, I’m sick of your tantrums.

3."Peut-être,”*: maybe

—

summary : After moving to Japan over a year ago, [Name] faces the challenges of xenophobia, cultural barriers, and fitting into a society that sees her as an outsider. As she struggles with isolation, an unexpected encounter with Hanamichi Sakuragi, the school's notorious red-haired delinquent, throws her life into even more chaos. Between harsh whispers in the hallways and the surprising friendships she forms, [Name] is about to discover that fitting in means more than just blending into the background.

notes : hey...🧍🏿‍♀️how you doing LMAOOO MY BAD Y’ALL I WAS UNMOTIVATED SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE READING 🎀 ! lowkey wanna make a hanamichi x reader but aargh idkk, karin is the bully’s name btw in case you forgot

wc : around 3k

MASTERLIST

III. THE DUAL

— Her gaze fell on Hanamichi, sharp and desperate, the kind of look that screamed, Why must you always make things harder? Her lips parted slightly as if words might follow, but none came, only a long, exasperated sigh that said it all. There was no need for explanation—the message was clear in the weight of her stare, a silent plea for him to stop whatever ridiculous scheme he was plotting before it spiraled completely out of control.

You pressed your palm to your forehead, inhaling sharply.

“Really? Didn’t I just say not to do anything stupid?” Your voice carried a tone of sheer exasperation, as though this situation had drained the last bit of patience she had left.

You glanced at Haruko, who was frozen in the doorway, her hands clutched tightly in front of her. The disbelief on Haruko's face was palpable, her wide eyes reflecting the shock of witnessing such a chaotic scene. Slowly, her expression shifted less startled and more... disappointed.

“You weren’t like this in my mind, Sakuragi-kun…” Haruko’s voice trailed off, her words soft yet firm, as though realizing that the image she'd built of him was crumbling.

You sighed heavily, already bracing yourself for the mess that would undoubtedly follow. You gave Hanamichi a sideways glance, your expression torn between irritation and resignation. "Great. Just great. Now she thinks you’re a lunatic," you muttered under your breath, crossing your arms as you waited for him to save what little he could of the moment.

Haruko who was standing frozen for a moment, her wide eyes locked on the crimson streak trickling down Rukawa’s forehead. Her heart pounded, not from admiration this time, but from a surge of worry she couldn't suppress. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she bit her lip.

"Sakuragi-kun..Everybody said that Sakuragi-kun was very bad and scary but I thought you weren’t that kind of person and wouldn’t do that sort of thing.."

You stand awkwardly near Hanamichi's gang, the air thick with a mix of tension and something else—an odd kind of awkwardness that’s hard to place. Your eyes drift to Rukawa, who remains utterly unfazed, the blood trickling from his forehead seemingly irrelevant to him. His expression is cool, detached, as though none of this concerns him. In contrast, Hanamichi is stiff beside you, his face flushed—not with anger, but with the unmistakable embarrassment of being in Haruko’s presence.

Caught in the awkward stillness, unsure whether to speak or stay silent. The tension feels like a rubber band stretched to its limit, but it’s not just about the fight anymore—it’s the quiet clash of emotions, embarrassment, and indifference that keeps everyone rooted in place.

“I misjudged you Sakuragi-kun !!” The young girl exclaimed before darting off in the opposite direction of Rukawa, leaving Sakuragi behind, wailing with exaggerated, almost comical tears streaming down his face.

You stared at the scene, completely lost. Everyone around you spoke so fast that the words blended together into an overwhelming blur. You furrowed your brow, glancing between the group and the direction the girl had run, trying to make sense of the chaos.

“Y-you guys speak too fast,” you muttered, sweat-dropping as you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. “I don’t fully understand what’s going on now...”

Sakuragi’s gang barely seemed to notice your confusion, too busy trying to calm their bawling leader, while Haruko was already a speck in the distance. You sighed, feeling more out of place than ever, the cultural gap yawning wide in moments like these. 

“I really need to catch up.”

–

A day had passed, and it didn’t take much to notice the strange shift in the redhead’s demeanor. Sakuragi, usually bursting with his trademark energy and overconfidence, seemed oddly down, his shoulders slumped as if carrying the weight of the world. There was a gloomy air about him that felt completely out of place. But the strangest part was his reaction to basketballs.

Whenever he passed by someone playing, his entire demeanor shifted. His jaw would tighten, and his eyes would narrow with an intensity that felt almost out of character. If the sound of dribbling reached his ears, his mood soured instantly.

And when his gaze fell on the players themselves laughing, shooting, and passing the ball it was as if a switch flipped.

Lost in his cloudy thoughts, Sakuragi’s foggy eyes barely registered the world around him. He didn’t even noticed the basketball hurtling toward him until it was too late. The impact was sharp and unforgiving, square on his face, sending him stumbling back slightly. Blood trickled from his nose, but to everyone’s shock, Sakuragi didn’t explode in his usual fiery rage.

The gang froze, wide-eyed, waiting for the inevitable outburst. But it never came. Instead, Sakuragi simply stood there, eerily calm. His hand reached up to touch his nose briefly, smearing the blood before his gaze dropped to the ball at his feet. Slowly, he crouched, picking it up in silence.

You could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy. The two responsible for the accident stood a few feet away, shaking like leaves in a storm. They knew all too well the redhead’s reputation as a hotheaded delinquent, and his uncharacteristic calm only made their fear worse.

From where you stood, you had seen everything unfold in real-time. Your jaw dropped, your mouth hanging open in disbelief. It wasn’t just the hit or the blood that caught you off guard—it was his reaction. Sakuragi was unpredictable, sure, but this? This was something entirely new, and it left you just as stunned as everyone else around him.

Quickening your pace toward the group, your thoughts raced just as fast. The hold Haruko has on him is insane, you mused, barely able to process the scene before you.

Everything escalated in the blink of an eye. Sakuragi, ball still in hand, suddenly lunged at the two boys responsible. They yelped out hurried apologies, but it didn’t stop him. His gang tried to intervene, only to be met with his infamous headbutts as he powered through anyone in his way. Caught in the whirlwind of chaos, you felt compelled to speak. “Hanamichi, r-remem…” you stuttered, the unfamiliar word catching on your tongue. You paused, frustration bubbling. “Man, how do you even pronounce that…?”

At the sound of your voice, Sakuragi froze mid-motion, turning to look at you. His expression softened just slightly, and, to your surprise, he actually answered. “Remember!” he said, enunciating the word with exaggerated clarity. “R-re... remem-ber?” you said hesitantly, your accent dragging the word into unfamiliar territory.

Sakuragi’s jaw dropped, his expression torn between disbelief and agony. “No! That’s not even close! Are you even trying?!” He threw his arms into the air, groaning dramatically. Your eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation bubbling up in your chest. “I am trying! You’re just not explaining it well!” you shot back, your voice defensive.

Sakuragi spun around, clutching his head like he was on the verge of losing his mind. “How hard can it be?! It’s one word!” Your cheeks burned, more from frustration than embarrassment, as you planted your hands on your hips. “Maybe if you stopped yelling at me, I’d actually get it!”

“Yelling?!” He whirled back to face you, his expression almost comically offended. “This isn’t yelling! I’m motivating you!”

You huffed, your lips tightening into a line as you fought to keep your composure. But your patience snapped when he mimicked you, his exaggerated pronunciation making your blood boil. “Motivating? You’re just being loud!” you snapped before switching to French, the words spilling out in a frustrated flurry. “Franchement, t’es insupportable! Tu crois que c’est comme ça qu’on apprend?!”*

Sakuragi blinked, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you like you’d just grown a second head. “Huh? What—what did you just say?!”

“I said you’re impossible!” you shot back, still in French, crossing your arms as you glared at him. “Et franchement, j’en ai marre de tes crises!”*

His confusion deepened, his brow furrowing as he tried—and failed—to decipher your words. “What’s that supposed to mean?! Are you making fun of me?!”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his bewildered expression. “Peut-être,”* you teased, your tone light but your eyes glinting mischievously.

“That’s it!” Sakuragi threw his hands up in the air, his face turning redder by the second. “You’re doing it on purpose! Stop speaking in... in whatever that is!”

“It’s French, idiot,” you said with a sigh, shaking your head as you rolled your eyes. “And if you don’t like it, maybe try being less i-nsuf— whatever…” You trailed off, still fumbling with the word. The tension thickened in the air as you struggled to pronounce it, and the frustration in your voice only made it worse.

Sakuragi, standing just a few steps away, couldn’t help himself. He let out a loud, mocking laugh, throwing his head back dramatically. “Insufferable?!” he repeated, his voice ringing with disbelief, practically gasping in exaggerated horror. “You can’t even say it right!”

You bit your lip, doing your best to keep your composure, though it was hard to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. You spun around quickly, your back facing him now as you muttered, “It’s not my fault you’re so annoying.” The last word slipped out a little too loudly, but you didn’t care anymore.

But you knew him well enough to understand that he wasn’t about to let it go. “And by the way,” you continued, your voice a little softer now, tinged with a hint of exasperation, “Haruko hates you right now.”

Sakuragi froze mid-laugh, his hand still outstretched in the air, his posture suddenly rigid. His face contorted for a moment, the usual cocky grin vanishing as reality hit him harder than any of your words could. His eyes flickered away from you, and his lips pressed into a thin line, a flicker of something vulnerable—something you hadn’t seen often—crossing his features. It was rare for him to drop the facade.

“You don’t have to remind me...” he muttered, his voice softer now, barely audible. The usual bravado that defined him faltered, leaving behind only the weight of his own frustration.

Your stance softened too, feeling an unexpected pang of sympathy. But you couldn't let him off the hook entirely. “Hey, it’s not like you’re entirely innocent,” you said, teasing lightly, though the tone didn’t come out quite as playful as you’d intended.

Suddenly, the familiar cockiness was back. Sakuragi’s shoulders tensed, his hands balling into fists as his voice cracked in a way you hadn't expected. “And how could I not?!” he added, his tone switching to one of genuine exasperation, his earlier nonchalance giving way to something more raw. “It’s because of basketball that Haruko-chan h-hates me!”

The moment hung in the air, his declaration louder and more serious than his usual bluster. His words, tinged with frustration and self-pity, rang in your ears long after they were spoken. The atmosphere shifted as you stood there, sweat-dropping, your mind spinning in confusion.

You glanced around quickly, seeing the gang recovering from the earlier chaos, clearly used to Sakuragi’s wild antics. But as you observed him, caught somewhere between self-doubt and irritation, it was hard to reconcile the blustering fool with the person standing before you now.

Meanwhile, the absurdity of it all settled into the moment. How could things go from ridiculous to awkward so quickly? The gang wondered, as you were about to apologize a new figure came into view. A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped forward, his presence immediately shifting the atmosphere. He wore a simple T-shirt, tucked neatly into his sport pants, the fabric stretching slightly over his muscular build. His posture was upright, exuding a quiet confidence, while his serious expression and sharp eyes made it clear that he wasn’t someone to be trifled with as he moved closer, the group instinctively quieted, sensing the weight of his authority, even though they had no idea who he was just yet.

Without a word, he reached forward, gripping Hanamichi's collar with surprising strength and pulling him back. 

“Not another fight, please…” you pleaded, your hands pressed together as you stepped forward. Your voice was a mix of frustration and hope, hoping to stop things before they got out of hand again. You looked around at the others, but no one seemed ready to intervene—everyone was too caught up in the tension, and it was clear they all expected things to get worse.

Mito and the others were caught off guard by the new arrival’s towering height and his clear, undeniable strength. You couldn’t help but stare as he scolded his teammates, the sharp knock he gave one of them on the top of their head showing just how much authority he carried. The tension in the air seemed to thicken, but before anyone could fully react, things shifted in a way none of you could have expected.

Out of nowhere, Hanamichi—of all people—stepped right in front of the new captain, his head tilted to the side, brows furrowed like he was trying to figure something out. And then, in true Hanamichi fashion, he slapped the basketball right into the captain’s face, with an unceremonious thwack that echoed across the school courtyard.

The group—you included—froze in a collective panic, watching as the captain stood there, completely unphased.

“Bastard!! WHAT CAPTAIN!? WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL?!” Hanamichi shouted, still oblivious to the gravity of the situation. His voice rang out, causing everyone to flinch as he thrashed in the grip of his friends, who were now trying their best to keep him from causing even more chaos.

“Hanamichi!!” someone yelled in desperation, their voice tinged with panic.

“Stop! The opponent isn’t human!!” Nozomi cried, clearly trying to make Hanamichi realize just how serious this was. The shock and urgency in his tone made it clear: this wasn’t just another schoolyard scuffle.

"I HATE THE BASKETBALL TEAM THE MOST!! WHAT'S SO GREAT ABOUT SUCH A CRAPPY GAME!?" Hanamichi shouted, his frustration reaching its peak. As you observed the scene, you could feel the tension mounting between him and the basketball team. The team captain’s demeanor changed almost instantly, his expression hardening as his anger flared.

“A crappy game?” The captain’s voice dropped, becoming much deeper, colder. His knuckles cracked ominously as he prepared to charge at Hanamichi. “YOU SAID IT WAS A CRAPPY GAME!! YOU FOOL, LET’S GO!” He shouted, his fury matching Hanamichi’s. But his teammates quickly intervened, grabbing him in an attempt to hold him back, knowing full well the potential chaos this confrontation could lead to.

Still, the captain was blinded by rage, just as Hanamichi was, neither of them willing to back down. It was as if the world had narrowed down to just them and their burning resentment.

“They are draining…” you muttered out loud, a sigh escaping you as you took in the scene. The gang, still holding onto Hanamichi to prevent him from charging again, couldn’t help but agree with you, their faces showing clear signs of exhaustion from the escalating situation.

And just then, the captain’s face morphed into something almost frightening. His expression darkened, his eyes narrowing in a way that sent a cold shiver down your spine. The intensity in his glare made it clear that this wasn’t just about a basketball game anymore—it was personal.

—

The idea of the year—a basketball duel. It seemed simple enough, but so far, Hanamichi looked less like the fiery challenger everyone expected and more like a sad puppy. His hands trembled, his wide eyes glistening as if on the verge of overflowing.

As Akagi, the team captain, sternly explained the rules, Hanamichi's composure completely crumbled. A single tear rolled down his cheek, quickly followed by another, until the tears were streaming freely. He didn’t even bother wiping them away, standing there looking utterly defeated before the game had even begun.

You could only sigh, crossing your arms as you shook your head. “Really?” you muttered under your breath.

The sight was equal parts pitiful and ridiculous, and yet, entirely in character for Hanamichi. You sighed again, wondering what on earth was going through his head. Was he really scared, or was this some sort of elaborate act?

Before you could dwell on it too long, his demeanor shifted in the blink of an eye. The tears vanished as if they’d never been there, replaced by a familiar, cocky grin. His chest puffed out, and he crossed his arms with exaggerated confidence.

“HAA DON’T UNDERESTIMATE ME!” he barked, his voice loud enough to echo across the school grounds. “I’ll steal your ball soon!” You blinked, baffled by the sudden change. One second, he was a teary mess, and now he was acting like he’d already won the match. The sheer audacity of it left you speechless, though you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

You stand near the edge of the court, eyes fixed on Hanamichi as he stumbles through the game. It’s not basketball; it’s a circus. But it’s his circus, and he’s putting on a show for everyone, due to the fact that his way of playing was...special.

The crowd watches with varying reactions: cheers, laughter, and, of course, the sharp-edged commentary from Karin and her group just a few feet away.

“Is he even trying?” Karin scoffs, her voice loud enough to carry. “Looks like he’s auditioning for a clown show.” A couple of her friends giggle, nudging each other. You glance at them, irritation bubbling up.

“At least he’s doing something,” you say, your voice steady despite your growing annoyance. “Unlike people who just talk and do nothing.” Karin’s head tilts, a mocking smile curling on her lips. “Oh, sorry, what was that? Can someone translate? I don’t speak... whatever she’s saying.”

Nozomi, Karin’s friend, was standing slightly apart from the group, doesn’t laugh. She crosses her arms and glances away, as if disinterested in the whole scene. Before you can respond, a familiar voice chimes in.

“Want a translation?” Yohei says, sauntering over with Hanamichi’s gang in tow. He throws a lazy grin at Karin’s group. “She said... at... least... he’s... got... guts,” he says, drawing each word out painfully slow, like he’s speaking to a child.

Ōkusu leans in, hands on his hips. “Uuunnlike... youuuuuu,” he adds with exaggerated enunciation. Karin’s friends exchange awkward looks, clearly unsure how to react. Karin glares at Yohei but doesn’t respond.

Noma takes it a step further, mimicking her tone. “What’s that? Didn’t catch it? Should we slow it down more?” You bite back a smile, watching as their mockery turns the tables. Even Nozomi’s lips twitch, though she quickly hides it by looking away.

Karin huffs, rolling her eyes. “Whatever. You’re all idiots,” she snaps before stalking off, her friends scrambling to follow. “Good riddance,” Yohei says, flashing you a grin. “Don’t let them get to you.” 

A small, genuine smile forms on your lips, and you give them a quick, thankful glance.

"Thanks, guys," you say, your voice steadier now. The tension eases, and for the first time in what feels like hours, you feel a spark of warmth in their camaraderie. And they were quick to go back into teasing their red head.

MASTERLIST

–

FRENCH DICTIONARAY

1.“Franchement, t’es insupportable! Tu crois que c’est comme ça qu’on apprend?!”* : to be honest you're annoying ! You think that’s how we learn?!"

2. “Et franchement, j’en ai marre de tes crises": and frankly, I’m sick of your tantrums.

3."Peut-être,”*: maybe

—

summary : After moving to Japan over a year ago, [Name] faces the challenges of xenophobia, cultural barriers, and fitting into a society that sees her as an outsider. As she struggles with isolation, an unexpected encounter with Hanamichi Sakuragi, the school's notorious red-haired delinquent, throws her life into even more chaos. Between harsh whispers in the hallways and the surprising friendships she forms, [Name] is about to discover that fitting in means more than just blending into the background.

notes : hey...🧍🏿‍♀️how you doing LMAOOO MY BAD Y’ALL I WAS UNMOTIVATED SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY THE READING 🎀 ! lowkey wanna make a hanamichi x reader but aargh idkk, karin is the bully’s name btw in case you forgot

wc : around 3k

III. THE DUAL

— Her gaze fell on Hanamichi, sharp and desperate, the kind of look that screamed, Why must you always make things harder? Her lips parted slightly as if words might follow, but none came, only a long, exasperated sigh that said it all. There was no need for explanation—the message was clear in the weight of her stare, a silent plea for him to stop whatever ridiculous scheme he was plotting before it spiraled completely out of control.

You pressed your palm to your forehead, inhaling sharply.

“Really? Didn’t I just say not to do anything stupid?” Your voice carried a tone of sheer exasperation, as though this situation had drained the last bit of patience she had left.

You glanced at Haruko, who was frozen in the doorway, her hands clutched tightly in front of her. The disbelief on Haruko's face was palpable, her wide eyes reflecting the shock of witnessing such a chaotic scene. Slowly, her expression shifted less startled and more... disappointed.

“You weren’t like this in my mind, Sakuragi-kun…” Haruko’s voice trailed off, her words soft yet firm, as though realizing that the image she'd built of him was crumbling.

You sighed heavily, already bracing yourself for the mess that would undoubtedly follow. You gave Hanamichi a sideways glance, your expression torn between irritation and resignation. "Great. Just great. Now she thinks you’re a lunatic," you muttered under your breath, crossing your arms as you waited for him to save what little he could of the moment.

Haruko who was standing frozen for a moment, her wide eyes locked on the crimson streak trickling down Rukawa’s forehead. Her heart pounded, not from admiration this time, but from a surge of worry she couldn't suppress. Her fists clenched tightly at her sides, her nails digging into her palms as she bit her lip.

"Sakuragi-kun..Everybody said that Sakuragi-kun was very bad and scary but I thought you weren’t that kind of person and wouldn’t do that sort of thing.."

You stand awkwardly near Hanamichi's gang, the air thick with a mix of tension and something else—an odd kind of awkwardness that’s hard to place. Your eyes drift to Rukawa, who remains utterly unfazed, the blood trickling from his forehead seemingly irrelevant to him. His expression is cool, detached, as though none of this concerns him. In contrast, Hanamichi is stiff beside you, his face flushed—not with anger, but with the unmistakable embarrassment of being in Haruko’s presence.

Caught in the awkward stillness, unsure whether to speak or stay silent. The tension feels like a rubber band stretched to its limit, but it’s not just about the fight anymore—it’s the quiet clash of emotions, embarrassment, and indifference that keeps everyone rooted in place.

“I misjudged you Sakuragi-kun !!” The young girl exclaimed before darting off in the opposite direction of Rukawa, leaving Sakuragi behind, wailing with exaggerated, almost comical tears streaming down his face.

You stared at the scene, completely lost. Everyone around you spoke so fast that the words blended together into an overwhelming blur. You furrowed your brow, glancing between the group and the direction the girl had run, trying to make sense of the chaos.

“Y-you guys speak too fast,” you muttered, sweat-dropping as you rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly. “I don’t fully understand what’s going on now...”

Sakuragi’s gang barely seemed to notice your confusion, too busy trying to calm their bawling leader, while Haruko was already a speck in the distance. You sighed, feeling more out of place than ever, the cultural gap yawning wide in moments like these. 

“I really need to catch up.”

–

A day had passed, and it didn’t take much to notice the strange shift in the redhead’s demeanor. Sakuragi, usually bursting with his trademark energy and overconfidence, seemed oddly down, his shoulders slumped as if carrying the weight of the world. There was a gloomy air about him that felt completely out of place. But the strangest part was his reaction to basketballs.

Whenever he passed by someone playing, his entire demeanor shifted. His jaw would tighten, and his eyes would narrow with an intensity that felt almost out of character. If the sound of dribbling reached his ears, his mood soured instantly.

And when his gaze fell on the players themselves laughing, shooting, and passing the ball it was as if a switch flipped.

Lost in his cloudy thoughts, Sakuragi’s foggy eyes barely registered the world around him. He didn’t even noticed the basketball hurtling toward him until it was too late. The impact was sharp and unforgiving, square on his face, sending him stumbling back slightly. Blood trickled from his nose, but to everyone’s shock, Sakuragi didn’t explode in his usual fiery rage.

The gang froze, wide-eyed, waiting for the inevitable outburst. But it never came. Instead, Sakuragi simply stood there, eerily calm. His hand reached up to touch his nose briefly, smearing the blood before his gaze dropped to the ball at his feet. Slowly, he crouched, picking it up in silence.

You could feel the tension in the air, thick and heavy. The two responsible for the accident stood a few feet away, shaking like leaves in a storm. They knew all too well the redhead’s reputation as a hotheaded delinquent, and his uncharacteristic calm only made their fear worse.

From where you stood, you had seen everything unfold in real-time. Your jaw dropped, your mouth hanging open in disbelief. It wasn’t just the hit or the blood that caught you off guard—it was his reaction. Sakuragi was unpredictable, sure, but this? This was something entirely new, and it left you just as stunned as everyone else around him.

Quickening your pace toward the group, your thoughts raced just as fast. The hold Haruko has on him is insane, you mused, barely able to process the scene before you.

Everything escalated in the blink of an eye. Sakuragi, ball still in hand, suddenly lunged at the two boys responsible. They yelped out hurried apologies, but it didn’t stop him. His gang tried to intervene, only to be met with his infamous headbutts as he powered through anyone in his way. Caught in the whirlwind of chaos, you felt compelled to speak. “Hanamichi, r-remem…” you stuttered, the unfamiliar word catching on your tongue. You paused, frustration bubbling. “Man, how do you even pronounce that…?”

At the sound of your voice, Sakuragi froze mid-motion, turning to look at you. His expression softened just slightly, and, to your surprise, he actually answered. “Remember!” he said, enunciating the word with exaggerated clarity. “R-re... remem-ber?” you said hesitantly, your accent dragging the word into unfamiliar territory.

Sakuragi’s jaw dropped, his expression torn between disbelief and agony. “No! That’s not even close! Are you even trying?!” He threw his arms into the air, groaning dramatically. Your eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation bubbling up in your chest. “I am trying! You’re just not explaining it well!” you shot back, your voice defensive.

Sakuragi spun around, clutching his head like he was on the verge of losing his mind. “How hard can it be?! It’s one word!” Your cheeks burned, more from frustration than embarrassment, as you planted your hands on your hips. “Maybe if you stopped yelling at me, I’d actually get it!”

“Yelling?!” He whirled back to face you, his expression almost comically offended. “This isn’t yelling! I’m motivating you!”

You huffed, your lips tightening into a line as you fought to keep your composure. But your patience snapped when he mimicked you, his exaggerated pronunciation making your blood boil. “Motivating? You’re just being loud!” you snapped before switching to French, the words spilling out in a frustrated flurry. “Franchement, t’es insupportable! Tu crois que c’est comme ça qu’on apprend?!”*

Sakuragi blinked, his mouth slightly agape as he stared at you like you’d just grown a second head. “Huh? What—what did you just say?!”

“I said you’re impossible!” you shot back, still in French, crossing your arms as you glared at him. “Et franchement, j’en ai marre de tes crises!”*

His confusion deepened, his brow furrowing as he tried—and failed—to decipher your words. “What’s that supposed to mean?! Are you making fun of me?!”

You couldn’t help but smirk at his bewildered expression. “Peut-être,”* you teased, your tone light but your eyes glinting mischievously.

“That’s it!” Sakuragi threw his hands up in the air, his face turning redder by the second. “You’re doing it on purpose! Stop speaking in... in whatever that is!”

“It’s French, idiot,” you said with a sigh, shaking your head as you rolled your eyes. “And if you don’t like it, maybe try being less i-nsuf— whatever…” You trailed off, still fumbling with the word. The tension thickened in the air as you struggled to pronounce it, and the frustration in your voice only made it worse.

Sakuragi, standing just a few steps away, couldn’t help himself. He let out a loud, mocking laugh, throwing his head back dramatically. “Insufferable?!” he repeated, his voice ringing with disbelief, practically gasping in exaggerated horror. “You can’t even say it right!”

You bit your lip, doing your best to keep your composure, though it was hard to ignore the heat creeping up your neck. You spun around quickly, your back facing him now as you muttered, “It’s not my fault you’re so annoying.” The last word slipped out a little too loudly, but you didn’t care anymore.

But you knew him well enough to understand that he wasn’t about to let it go. “And by the way,” you continued, your voice a little softer now, tinged with a hint of exasperation, “Haruko hates you right now.”

Sakuragi froze mid-laugh, his hand still outstretched in the air, his posture suddenly rigid. His face contorted for a moment, the usual cocky grin vanishing as reality hit him harder than any of your words could. His eyes flickered away from you, and his lips pressed into a thin line, a flicker of something vulnerable—something you hadn’t seen often—crossing his features. It was rare for him to drop the facade.

“You don’t have to remind me...” he muttered, his voice softer now, barely audible. The usual bravado that defined him faltered, leaving behind only the weight of his own frustration.

Your stance softened too, feeling an unexpected pang of sympathy. But you couldn't let him off the hook entirely. “Hey, it’s not like you’re entirely innocent,” you said, teasing lightly, though the tone didn’t come out quite as playful as you’d intended.

Suddenly, the familiar cockiness was back. Sakuragi’s shoulders tensed, his hands balling into fists as his voice cracked in a way you hadn't expected. “And how could I not?!” he added, his tone switching to one of genuine exasperation, his earlier nonchalance giving way to something more raw. “It’s because of basketball that Haruko-chan h-hates me!”

The moment hung in the air, his declaration louder and more serious than his usual bluster. His words, tinged with frustration and self-pity, rang in your ears long after they were spoken. The atmosphere shifted as you stood there, sweat-dropping, your mind spinning in confusion.

You glanced around quickly, seeing the gang recovering from the earlier chaos, clearly used to Sakuragi’s wild antics. But as you observed him, caught somewhere between self-doubt and irritation, it was hard to reconcile the blustering fool with the person standing before you now.

Meanwhile, the absurdity of it all settled into the moment. How could things go from ridiculous to awkward so quickly? The gang wondered, as you were about to apologize a new figure came into view. A tall, broad-shouldered man stepped forward, his presence immediately shifting the atmosphere. He wore a simple T-shirt, tucked neatly into his sport pants, the fabric stretching slightly over his muscular build. His posture was upright, exuding a quiet confidence, while his serious expression and sharp eyes made it clear that he wasn’t someone to be trifled with as he moved closer, the group instinctively quieted, sensing the weight of his authority, even though they had no idea who he was just yet.

Without a word, he reached forward, gripping Hanamichi's collar with surprising strength and pulling him back. 

“Not another fight, please…” you pleaded, your hands pressed together as you stepped forward. Your voice was a mix of frustration and hope, hoping to stop things before they got out of hand again. You looked around at the others, but no one seemed ready to intervene—everyone was too caught up in the tension, and it was clear they all expected things to get worse.

Mito and the others were caught off guard by the new arrival’s towering height and his clear, undeniable strength. You couldn’t help but stare as he scolded his teammates, the sharp knock he gave one of them on the top of their head showing just how much authority he carried. The tension in the air seemed to thicken, but before anyone could fully react, things shifted in a way none of you could have expected.

Out of nowhere, Hanamichi—of all people—stepped right in front of the new captain, his head tilted to the side, brows furrowed like he was trying to figure something out. And then, in true Hanamichi fashion, he slapped the basketball right into the captain’s face, with an unceremonious thwack that echoed across the school courtyard.

The group—you included—froze in a collective panic, watching as the captain stood there, completely unphased.

“Bastard!! WHAT CAPTAIN!? WHAT’S THE BIG DEAL?!” Hanamichi shouted, still oblivious to the gravity of the situation. His voice rang out, causing everyone to flinch as he thrashed in the grip of his friends, who were now trying their best to keep him from causing even more chaos.

“Hanamichi!!” someone yelled in desperation, their voice tinged with panic.

“Stop! The opponent isn’t human!!” Nozomi cried, clearly trying to make Hanamichi realize just how serious this was. The shock and urgency in his tone made it clear: this wasn’t just another schoolyard scuffle.

"I HATE THE BASKETBALL TEAM THE MOST!! WHAT'S SO GREAT ABOUT SUCH A CRAPPY GAME!?" Hanamichi shouted, his frustration reaching its peak. As you observed the scene, you could feel the tension mounting between him and the basketball team. The team captain’s demeanor changed almost instantly, his expression hardening as his anger flared.

“A crappy game?” The captain’s voice dropped, becoming much deeper, colder. His knuckles cracked ominously as he prepared to charge at Hanamichi. “YOU SAID IT WAS A CRAPPY GAME!! YOU FOOL, LET’S GO!” He shouted, his fury matching Hanamichi’s. But his teammates quickly intervened, grabbing him in an attempt to hold him back, knowing full well the potential chaos this confrontation could lead to.

Still, the captain was blinded by rage, just as Hanamichi was, neither of them willing to back down. It was as if the world had narrowed down to just them and their burning resentment.

“They are draining…” you muttered out loud, a sigh escaping you as you took in the scene. The gang, still holding onto Hanamichi to prevent him from charging again, couldn’t help but agree with you, their faces showing clear signs of exhaustion from the escalating situation.

And just then, the captain’s face morphed into something almost frightening. His expression darkened, his eyes narrowing in a way that sent a cold shiver down your spine. The intensity in his glare made it clear that this wasn’t just about a basketball game anymore—it was personal.

—

The idea of the year—a basketball duel. It seemed simple enough, but so far, Hanamichi looked less like the fiery challenger everyone expected and more like a sad puppy. His hands trembled, his wide eyes glistening as if on the verge of overflowing.

As Akagi, the team captain, sternly explained the rules, Hanamichi's composure completely crumbled. A single tear rolled down his cheek, quickly followed by another, until the tears were streaming freely. He didn’t even bother wiping them away, standing there looking utterly defeated before the game had even begun.

You could only sigh, crossing your arms as you shook your head. “Really?” you muttered under your breath.

The sight was equal parts pitiful and ridiculous, and yet, entirely in character for Hanamichi. You sighed again, wondering what on earth was going through his head. Was he really scared, or was this some sort of elaborate act?

Before you could dwell on it too long, his demeanor shifted in the blink of an eye. The tears vanished as if they’d never been there, replaced by a familiar, cocky grin. His chest puffed out, and he crossed his arms with exaggerated confidence.

“HAA DON’T UNDERESTIMATE ME!” he barked, his voice loud enough to echo across the school grounds. “I’ll steal your ball soon!” You blinked, baffled by the sudden change. One second, he was a teary mess, and now he was acting like he’d already won the match. The sheer audacity of it left you speechless, though you couldn’t help but chuckle. 

You stand near the edge of the court, eyes fixed on Hanamichi as he stumbles through the game. It’s not basketball; it’s a circus. But it’s his circus, and he’s putting on a show for everyone, due to the fact that his way of playing was...special.

The crowd watches with varying reactions: cheers, laughter, and, of course, the sharp-edged commentary from Karin and her group just a few feet away.

“Is he even trying?” Karin scoffs, her voice loud enough to carry. “Looks like he’s auditioning for a clown show.” A couple of her friends giggle, nudging each other. You glance at them, irritation bubbling up.

“At least he’s doing something,” you say, your voice steady despite your growing annoyance. “Unlike people who just talk and do nothing.” Karin’s head tilts, a mocking smile curling on her lips. “Oh, sorry, what was that? Can someone translate? I don’t speak... whatever she’s saying.”

Nozomi, Karin’s friend, was standing slightly apart from the group, doesn’t laugh. She crosses her arms and glances away, as if disinterested in the whole scene. Before you can respond, a familiar voice chimes in.

“Want a translation?” Yohei says, sauntering over with Hanamichi’s gang in tow. He throws a lazy grin at Karin’s group. “She said... at... least... he’s... got... guts,” he says, drawing each word out painfully slow, like he’s speaking to a child.

Ōkusu leans in, hands on his hips. “Uuunnlike... youuuuuu,” he adds with exaggerated enunciation. Karin’s friends exchange awkward looks, clearly unsure how to react. Karin glares at Yohei but doesn’t respond.

Noma takes it a step further, mimicking her tone. “What’s that? Didn’t catch it? Should we slow it down more?” You bite back a smile, watching as their mockery turns the tables. Even Nozomi’s lips twitch, though she quickly hides it by looking away.

Karin huffs, rolling her eyes. “Whatever. You’re all idiots,” she snaps before stalking off, her friends scrambling to follow. “Good riddance,” Yohei says, flashing you a grin. “Don’t let them get to you.” 

A small, genuine smile forms on your lips, and you give them a quick, thankful glance.

"Thanks, guys," you say, your voice steadier now. The tension eases, and for the first time in what feels like hours, you feel a spark of warmth in their camaraderie. And they were quick to go back into teasing their red head.

FRENCH DICTIONARAY

1.“Franchement, t’es insupportable! Tu crois que c’est comme ça qu’on apprend?!”* : to be honest you're annoying ! You think that’s how we learn?!"

2. “Et franchement, j’en ai marre de tes crises": and frankly, I’m sick of your tantrums.

3."Peut-être,”*: maybe

—