#❪ 𝗵𝗮𝗶𝗸𝘆𝘂𝘂!! ❫ * ♡ . eita semi. ◞

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“ i've been thinking. ” it's a quiet declaration, surrounded by the sound of sneakers on the gym floor &. volleyballs being hit across nets. it's subdued today, if only a little bit; the coach would never let them rest for long, after all. but eita spins a ball in his hands &. feels lighter than he has in ages, gaze on the high windows looking outwards. “ i might pick up an instrument, once this is over. ” ♡ * for @soverina's peach.

[decaysate]

he’s exhausted,    in a good way──    he’s forgotten how fun it is,    to play on the court.    eita’s forearms sting,    his knees ache with failed dives, he’s short of breath,    but he’s──    smiling,    regardless,    head tilted towards the gymnasium lights with his eyes closed.    “    how do you do that for the entire match?    ”    there’s awe    &    disbelief in his words,    laughter just barely wheezing out afterwards.    it’s so    /    diving after balls    &    getting back up afterwards,    /    letting loose a serve    &    have it be received back with startling accuracy,    /    it’s all so fun,    fun,    fun!    /    when did volleyball stop being fun,    being exciting?    “    i don’t think i can stand after that.    you’ve gotta help me up.    ”    ♡  *    @pridewon​,    for agnès.

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from @pontevoix​​’s shirabu,    to eita.    (    11  /  11  /  2022:    happy birthday eita!    )    “    are your joints aching yet?    ”    shirabu questions as though it were a second thought.    he rolls his shoulders back to stretch    &.    almost smirks.    please translate:    how’s it feel to age another year?    do you feel old yet?

eita laughs──    half disbelief,    half real amusement──    as he eats another stick of pocky,    this time from the matcha box.    (    this joke never seems to get old,    it thinks dryly,    if getting pocky as a gift at age twenty four is still hilarious to people like tendou.    )    there’s a snap as he bites down,    brow quirked upwards with a sly sort of smile.    “    haven’t you heard,    shirabu?    i’ve already got arthritis.    my fingers make a popping noise every time i warm up to perform.    ”    it lets out a heavy-hearted sigh,    hunching forward in an imitation of an old man.    “    i’m so old,    yet here you are,    disrespecting the elderly    ...    this is the worst birthday ever.    ”    thank you for coming,    shirabu.    i hope you enjoy yourself today.

[decaysate]

semi’s idolish7 au is that he’s zool’s secret, yet-to-debut 5th member, and he bonds with haruka about being replaced for someone “better.” he’s probably in his 20s at this point, aligns with his post timeskip look. and also

stream ache by zool

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his hand falls away from ushijima’s shoulder to fiddle with the tape on the other,    not as much subconscious but    /    more like admittance,    more like he’s been caught.    a wry smile confirms the thought,    already heading over to the empty benches.    “    i doubt it,    ”    eita says,    breathing out slowly with the weight of his words.    i doubt that i’ll be subbed in.    “    but i’ll take your advice,    captain.    ”    it turns to finish the sentence off with a mocking salute,    &.    this time,    its breath escapes him with a laugh,    if nothing but to ignore the ugly feeling curdling in its chest.

(    ushijima says to take a break like it’s    /    easy,    like eita hasn’t been pulling teeth with each step,    like    /    he has any room to fall behind.    short nails tug    &.    itch to rip his taping,    uncomfortable with the sweat beneath,    to step back onto the court    /    pulling teeth with each jump,    each swing of its arms    /    what else does it have to offer,    anyways?    eita is not a cannon,    nor is he a guess monster,    &.    now,    it is no longer a starting setter.

what else is left for him to do?    )

“    are you done for the day,    or will you stay a little longer?    ”    his fingers flex through stretches,    motions he’s learned years ago;    he feels the ache of his bones    &.    they twitch a little at the pain.    maybe he has been at it for too long,    eita thinks,    as he methodically unwraps the tape to let the skin breathe.    “    i’ll probably practice setting after a break.    i can’t afford to get rusty,    after all.    ”

when it finishes discarding the tape,    it holds out a bottle for ushijima;    his brow is furrowed in hesitation,    conflict easy to read on his face before he speaks again.    “    if you stay,    i wouldn’t mind setting for you for a bit.    ”    ♡  *    @pridewon​​,    con’t.

[decaysate]

“    it must have sucked,    ”    eita says,    voice muffled    &.    face in his arms.    something like anguish laces his words,    vulnerable in a way he hasn’t been in years.    “    getting benched because of someone like kageyama tobio.    i mean,    that’s not a fair fight at all.    ”    at least koushi didn’t run with his tail between his legs.    or wings tucked against his body?    something like that,    it supposes,    head lifting as it reaches for a piece of meat from the grill.    “    he’s such a monster.    how is anyone supposed to keep up with him?    i’m so lucky shirabu was more mellow compared to him──    i would have just given up.    ”    ♡  *    @ruinedheart​​,    for koushi.

[decaysate]

washed up pianist semi ( nods to myself )

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in the final set semi has one last chance to walk onto the court with the team, one last chance to play side by side with them officially, and when he finally gets to set, when he finally sets to ushijima... hinata blocks it. and its over. he gets subbed out, and he looks so fucking frustrated, because all he’s thinking about is “what if i set it higher? further from the net? what if i had been a little faster, so that they couldn’t have caught it?” when kageyama makes shirabu receive the ball in the eighth ep, too, he’s so frantic, he’s yelling, he doesn’t want this to end. and then it ends like that. and what am i supposed to do. farewell my paradise indeed.

edit: semi’s face when he realizes hinata isn’t running up like he’s seeing everything in slow motion. like he realizes what’s gonna happen. vs his face at the end of the match, after washijo says they’re doing 100 serves, just the sadness and the relief and the frustration. fuck fuck my life.

[decaysate]

me and sparky were talking about semi and suga and volleyball last night so here’s the outcome of that

do you think semi like. just looks at himself and then he looks at shiratorizawa and he thinks, they're all such fucking monsters, but never with ill intent, just realizing that he's different from them and that he doesn't belong there, and the thought grows from washijo benching him before getting progressively bigger. he's so human compared to ushijima's strength or goshiki's stamina or tendou's blocking and it hurts

for semi its just like... the realization that volleyball isn't meant for him, especially since i think that shiratorizawa ended up stifling his talent and killed his love for the sport

he like. expected to go pro? or at the very least make it far enough, because he came to stz because of volleyball. but washijo replacing him just because he had too much individuality, and breaking his hands just to prove that he is good enough for an old man with a personal vendetta, just like... it destroyed his love for volleyball i think. he'll never truly forget how to play and he will keep an ear out for the stz members that go pro but i doubt that he'd ever pick up a volleyball as a serious sport again after high school

he might play for fun? for like... old times sake? but i think its more likely 2 happen w ppl who like. dont remind him of washijo or stz. no hate to his team or anything but he just feels like he can’t play on the same par as them, as much as he wants to/misses playing with them. it’s not like... an inferiority complex, because semi knows he is (or was) a good player, he was a good setter, but he’s stuck wondering if washijo really was right. wondering if he wasn’t what his teammates needed to excel. and when some of them go pro, it sorta confirms that feeling.

[decaysate]

i’ve realized i’ve only offhandedly mentioned this to maybe sparky before, but semi’s hands aren’t necessarily scarred, but incredibly rough & calloused. he’s constantly taping them up ( per my pinned img!  ) even outside of practice, & mostly they just get sprained/jammed. worst case scenario is dislocating a finger, which has probably happened like. maybe in his 2nd year? 

he stopped truly taking care of his hands once he got replaced ( per that one comic ) & with him constantly improving his serves on top of making sure his skills as a setter don’t rust ... they’re not in the best of shape

tldr;

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“    if i had five yen for every time somebody told me i could be sugawara koushi’s brother,    i would have enough to buy a bar of ice cream after practice.    ”

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[  ♡  ៸៸  ❏  ]  ────  瀬見 英太.    and now,    having put my greed and ego six feet under    ...    i burned my individuality and feelings to the ground.    ❪    a semi playlist.    art credit @dio_carpe.    ❫​​​​

[decaysate]

from @soverina​’s peach,    to eita.    (    ♡,    accepting.    )    “    i was just worried about you.   ”

what’s another five minutes?    what’s another hour?    serve after serve after serve,    until the cart runs out of volleyballs    &.    he’s forced to collect them all before repeating the process again.    eita wipes the sweat from his face with the back of his hand,    palms angry    &.    aching    &.    burning    &.   yet he still can’t help but do more.    what’s another serve,    in the end?    /    what will it get him,    besides disappointment    &.    frustration?    /    what does it matter?

‘    i’ll be fine,    ’  eita keeps promising,    wants to keep promising,    but he feels disgustingly human.    limited    &.    anguished    &.    hands that keep making mistakes──    human,    disgustingly so.    too human compared to the rest of them,    fucking volleyball monsters,    he thinks without a hint of resentment.    like glimpsing at a,    a    /    future he could never have    /    that was ripped from him,    in the shape of washijou’s cold hands    /    eita is so tired.    he is human.    he is human.    he is only human.

“    ...    sorry,    ”    he fumbles out,    fingers rubbing at his eyes with a weariness that upsets him,    with a deep rooted ache in each joint that he is growing too used to.    “    i got──    i lost track of time.    that’s all.    ”    why is he so tired?    an inch given    &.    suddenly he feels like he’s sinking──    he is,    to a floor strewn with volleyballs.    elbows on his knees to his chest    &.    head tipped back to the harsh gymnasium lights    &.    god,    he is exhausted.    “    i didn’t mean to worry you,    ”    he tacks on quietly,    pathetically,   eyes flitting from peach to the ceiling to the floor    &.    back again.    shameful    &.    not    &.    seething more than anything.    he feels human.    

(   he feels like that’s a crime.    )

“    i just can’t    ...    fall behind.    ”