Realistic or Modern Pass, Set, Spike! [REVAMP] Character Sheets

[SharkBark]

Requirements -

Does not have to be in this specific order.

Faceclaim(no real faces, use art and give credit to the artists):
Character Name:
Age:
Year: (freshman through senior):
Personality:
Background:
Likes and Dislikes (optional)
Positive Traits: (optional)
Negative Traits: (optional)
Position:
What school they attend:
Height:
Weight:
Specialty (what attribute they're best at, spiking, blocking, etc):

 

[SharkBark]

Artwork is Imma from "Princess Wars" (idek what this is), written by Luo Jie, Hu Jing, and Fire Culture

Name: Akito Suzuki

Age: 15

Year: Sophomore

Personality: Akito is typically a calm, well-mannered, and extremely determined young man. He isn't prone to being angered easily, nor does he try to start trouble with others. But Akito can be a bit stubborn at times, specifically when it comes to doing something that directly affects his objectives, like being told to do chores when he just wants to stay outside and spike his ball for hours.
In-game, Akito is even more driven than usual but keeps his levelheadedness. He forgives his teammates for any mistakes that they make, as well as trying his best to keep the morale high, no matter how badly they're losing.

Brief Background: Akito was born and raised right here in Lakeside, Japan, where he first developed his love for volleyball. When he was younger, Lakeside's volleyball team was still up and running, and they were certainly at their peak. His older brother Taketa was an opposite-hitter for the team at the time and took Akito to all of his games. Because of this, the boy developed a strong love for the sport. Akito dreamed of playing just as Taketa did!

And he vowed to join a team when he got older.


But, as the years went by, he watched Lakeside's volleyball team's rapid descent into total destruction. And by the time he was 8, there was almost no sign of the sport in Lakeside anymore. No one talked about it, no one played it, and only a few people still owned a volleyball. That dream that Akito had, that vow that he had made—all of it seemed to be completely out of reach now. just a stream of wasted potential.

Until he got into high school.
(cut to present)

*****

Likes: Volleyball - Watching Sports - Video Games - Cooking - The moon

Dislikes: Arguments - Loud noises - Small Dogs - Procrastinating- Snoring

Positive Trait (s): Akito is a rational person. He's always prepared to talk things out and negotiate with others before something bad can happen. He is also very responsible, often taking care of things the moment they need to be done.

Negative Trait (s): Unfortunately, sometimes Akito doesn't have a very good understanding of the situations of others and will often project his own personal standards onto the people around him ("if I can do it, you can too," etc.), causing him to occasionally seem callous and uncaring towards others and often causing problems in his interpersonal life. At times, Akito ends up accidentally forcing his own motivations onto others and whatnot since he sees everyone as just like him rather than as different people with their own needs, abilities, and intentions.

Position: Outside Hitter

School: Lakeside

Height: 6'0

Weight: 144 lbs.

Specialty: Akito's best volleyball skill is spiking. Having learned from his brother, who is now a professional college player, he learned about different angles and various hitting tactics, which he still applies to this day. Akito isn't as good as his brother yet. But, in due time and with training, he feels that he's on the road to becoming an elite hitter. He works hard and puts in extra hours to perfect his technique. His dedication is paying off as he is slowly but surely improving. He is determined to reach the level of his brother and eventually become a professional himself.

Least developed skill: Akito's underdeveloped skills are diving and flashy digs. The reason he isn't as adept at them is because he underestimated their importance when he initially began training. He never took as much time to train on those parts of defense, which he regrets to this day. Akito practices them more and more, but it just hasn't clicked for him yet. For now, his only defense capabilities are passing and blocking.​

 

[SharkBark]

Artwork by @18ICHi_YA on Twitter

Name: Shinohara "Shino" Toshio

Age: 17

Year: Junior

Personality: In terms of personality, "undisturbed" and "lazy" would be words to describe Shino. He's also very passive, often choosing to relax, take things slowly, and go at his own pace. Because of these factors, Shino's generally carefree and without any worries, which gives him time to do things that you wouldn't see too many people his age do. He'll babysit for no charge, play volleyball, help the elderly—all of it. After an incident years ago, it sort of became part of Shino's nature to take care of others while still watching out for himself, of course. He applies these same things to his teammates, always having their backs and helping them in times of need.

Brief Background: Shino was born into a loving family in the prefecture of Saga, Japan. The boy lived without any responsibilities or goals besides being a dinosaur until he was about 12 years old, but at that point things began to change.

Shino started working for his family's sports equipment company and at some point found himself competing in large volleyball tournaments to promote their products. Through this, he began to find out that he was actually a decent player, and his father had told him that he had the potential to become even better. Afterwards, Shino began to play volleyball more. And his old man was the person who vastly helped him with his training and was a key factor in shaping him into an amazing player.

Shino was amazed at what a caring man his father was. He strived to be just like him someday. And now, in the present, he has fulfilled that wish by playing for Fuhai and helping others in any way possible.
But, regardless of how good things are, he is currently looking for his true calling. He believes there is another way for him to continue to help people as much as possible. Luckily, he has great parents to support him.

Likes: Taking care of children - Dyeing his hair - French fries

Dislikes: Loud Noises - Strong scents (heavy perfume or cologne) - Complaining

Positive Trait (s):Shino is a considerate and compassionate person who enjoys contributing to the community. He spends his free time volunteering at local soup kitchens, working as a tutor, and providing his volleyball team with necessary equipment.

Negative Trait (s): Shino is very emotionally unaware, and doesn't pick up on subtle implications, and needs to be told everything directly. He often takes things too literally and has difficulty understanding sarcasm or jokes. Shino often frustrates her friends and family with her lack of understanding of social cues.

Position: Middle Blocker

School: Fuhai

Height: 6'1 and a half

Weight: 156

Specialty: Shino's most refined skill is his blocking ability. The main reason he was chosen as middle blocker over Connor, who's considerably taller, is because on his understanding of angles and timing. Shino is capable of closing gaps that his teammate's block may have, creating a wall that forces a hitter to either try to spike through the blocks or feint, and timing when he jumps to properly close off a hitters options.

Least developed skill: Shino is decent to exceptional in every aspect of volleyball except for setting. When it comes to sets, he finds himself always messing up finger placement or accidentally making the ball slip through his hands. Other times, he fails to get enough force behind the ball or applies too much, leading to lost points. So, whenever the team's setter ends up getting the first touch, Shino won't cover for them. He'll step back and let another person set it.​

 

[AlphaBlueWolf]

Name: Mikaela "Mika" Makarov
Age: 15
Year: Sophomore
Personality: Mika is a headstrong individual, independent and fiery. These traits can lead her to get into many fights, whether that be with her snappy tongue or quick fists. She's prone to quick irritation regarding people and the things she cannot do, often having to be reminded to take a step back. Behind this persona is a girl with quick wit and amazing reflexes. Compassionate about the things she likes; she'll keep pushing herself to get better and better even when she gets frustrated over her failure. Mika can be described as a tomboy, loving sports and being quite active, as well as not as squeamish as other girls.

Brief Background: Mikaela is a born and raised Russian, originally from the city of Saratov but moved to the capitol later in her life, when things picked up for her. As a major producer of aircraft for the Soviet Union, Saratov had many plants that ended up closing down and crushing job opportunities for many families in the area. One such family had been Mika's, who struggled in the low job market, her parents eventually finding a dangerous factory job. While her parents were at work late, her older brother Aleksandr kept her occupied by teaching her the ways of Volleyball. They passed it to each other, honing their skills to perfection. While Aleksandr was tall, easily able to spike the ball, Mika had learned to jump incredibly high to intercept those spikes and begun to rival his ability. They challenged each other, Mika's impressive jumping ability helping Aleks to become a better player all around. One winter in Saratov, they had been playing a modest game of volleyball, both siblings displaying their unique abilities. Aleksandr switched around the court in different positions, showing versatility and immense skill. A member of the Olympic team approached him afterwards, scouting him for Russia's team. An amazing opportunity which he immediately said yes to. They went back home to prepare, when disaster struck their home. A factory accident took place, leaving their parents dead, and the siblings nowhere else to go but to take up the opportunity given to them.

They moved to Moscow, one year before the summer Olympics took place and Aleksandr would officially make his way onto the court. During that time things changed for Mika. She barely saw her brother anymore, left alone to practice her sets and run to the other side of the court to try to receive them. She went to a new school with new people, who didn't even bother with her. She felt like she didn't even exist during that time, until she came back to school after the summer Olympics.

Her brother had been amazing on the court, quickly securing himself as the ace of Russia's Olympic team. Many tuned into the rising star's matches as he became extremely popular. He was the youngest on the team, the least experienced on a court such as big and prestigious as the Olympics, but yet outshined his fellow teammates, all while being good natured about it. He had a charismatic attitude and a handsome face and was regarded as Russia's best player. T.V stations clambered for an interview with him, and one of his most famous interviews was where he introduced them to his humble beginnings and even got some shots in with Mika, who had agreed to the publicity purely because she wanted to play another match with her brother. However, upon watching the interview, Mika realized that the station only commented on her when it had something to do with Aleks. Most of the footage used of the little scrimmage had been Aleks, and she was really only included in the main interview when it had been sections where Aleks had insisted upon Mika being there while he talked about their childhood in Saratov, even telling her before the interview she could interject if she had something to say. And every time she had spoken had been cut out besides for the times where it made Aleks look good. She quickly realized that despite being impressive in the game in her own right, she'd always be overshadowed by being Aleksandr Makarov's little sister. He'd always be the interesting one as the star Olympic athlete. She left the ball on the court that day.

Mikaela thought it would merely be sticking to Aleks' shadow, however, when she got back to school everyone was buzzing about her. The little sister of the star Olympic volleyball player, everyone wanted to be her friend, to exert their influence over her so that they too could meet Aleks. Though, Mika wasn't born yesterday, and new it wasn't her they wanted. They were just using her, and when she angrily refused to become friends with a pack of devilish girls, they took out their aggression on her. They made her life miserable for the entire year, name calling and isolation, and it was made clear that even if she attempted to join her school's volleyball team, which she didn't, she wouldn't be welcomed. In otherwards, 8th grade was hell on ice, and Aleks didn't make it any better with his insistence on teaching her Japanese. He didn't even tell her why, just that she had to learn and get tutored so she could understand it.

Next thing Mika knows, they're moving to Japan so Aleks could train for the upcoming summer Olympics, supposedly being held in Tokyo, Japan that year. He said it would help him to know the country they'd be playing in, supposedly a training strategy of some sort, though Mika didn't understand the logic behind such a silly leap and didn't even try to. They moved to the Saga prefecture after all, and not the capitol of Tokyo where the games would be held. What good would small little Saga be? Even though it did remind her somewhat of Saratov, a warm Saratov at least. Worst of all, Aleks didn't even ask if she'd be ok with the move, seemingly favoring his career over her. She felt betrayed, and dreaded the school year, for she believed it would be a repeat of Russia especially with it basically becoming a repeat of freshman year being a transfer student coming to a new school. She decided to keep a distance from her fellow classmates, even with the rumors already circulating the school. To not even touch Lakeside's reforming volleyball team. She always wondered why Aleks didn't enroll her in a more athletic school since Lakeside seemed like a complete disaster in that department. She'd soon come to understand his little push for her to start back on the court.

Likes: The cold- Ice Skating- Volleyball- Aleksandr (No matter how annoying he may be)- Baseball Cap Aleks gave her

Dislikes: The heat- Seasickness- Speaking Japanese

Positive Trait: Mika is fiercely protective of her friends and will fight tooth and nail for them, often pushing into conflicts even if it isn't about her to defend her friends. If your someone she cares about, despite her snappy attitude, you'll definitely know it through her actions.

Negative Trait: Due to being the subject of bullying and attention due to Aleks' rise to stardom, Mika can be quite untrusting towards others, especially if they have a background in volleyball and or have heard of Aleks. She often questions if the relationships and friendships she makes are real or some form of manipulation in order to meet Aleks, which stunts the growth of these relationships.

Position: Middle blocker
What school they attend: Lakeside
Height: 5'3
Weight: 108
Specialty: When most people hear Mika is a middle blocker at the height of 5'3 they usually laugh right in her face. She's not tall enough to even touch the top of the net. But what sets her apart from other middle blockers, and shoves people's comments right back in their face, is her insane jumping ability. Lightweight Mikaela goes flying right in the air, her hands easily over the net to perform spikes and quicks. She can jump in her spot so that her arms reach up for blocks, and she can do a run and jump from halfway across the court to get a spike that was set up for her. Her legs were built strong from handling Aleks' hard hits back in the day and stuck into the ground to help stabilize her as she received them. She learned to jump to new records each time to contend with her brother's tall height. Overall, her jumping ability is no joke, and you'll be sorry if you underestimate the middle blocker for her height.

Least Developed Skill: The one thing Mika hates about volleyball is serving, and specifically, her lack of being able to get out of the rotation. She didn't even know there was a serving rotation until she saw Aleks training with his team for the first time. Why does she wish to get out of it so much? Because her jumping ability may be incredible, but her serving not so much. There's the undisputable fact of her being shorter, and thus it takes an extra mile for her to get the ball over the net from a lower stance. To do that, she needs to put a lot of force in it to make sure it sails all the way, but she ends up overshooting by a long shot, hitting the wall instead of the ground. She's used to handling harder hitting attacks from her time playing with Aleks, so whenever she needs to go softer on her hits, or even find a balance between hard and soft, she can't help but going a little too rough. There's only one type of serve that she's actually good at. One out of all the different kinds of serving. The jump serve. It's no wonder that she would take something she's good at and use it to make what she hates just a little bit better. With her impressive jumping ability, she'll be seen using the jump serve over any other serve. It's an impressive feat, as long as she doesn't put too much force into it where she's giving the spectators whiplash trying to follow it.​

 

[AlphaBlueWolf]

Name: Tokito "Toki" Furukawa
Age: 15
Year: Freshman (Repeating the year)
Personality: Tokito was always a caring and kind boy, though rather silent and content most of his life. Considered very soft and innocent, most thinking he would not even hurt a fly. Part of these traits are just his nature, while the other part can be attributed to his social anxiety.

After the accident, he has become even more silent, though stressed with his inability to remember. He is more prone to lashing out because of these difficulties but has still kept his kind nature. However, he can break through his shell and really shine as a bright and kind boy with his interests.

Brief Background: Tokito's early years can explain some of the attributes he exhibits. From a young age Tokito had to hear the arguments his parents would have. The small fights that turned explosive, the beginnings of divorce. It got to the point where he would put on noise cancelling headphones and would draw while his parents fought, always alone. It wasn't their fault they were no longer happy; he had told himself. He would just sit and wait like a good kid unless they needed him, and it became like that wherever he went.

Eventually, he was told about the divorce. Told that his parents couldn't keep their marriage going. His father left the house, and he never saw him again. Afterwards it was just him and his mother, who was at work most of the time, so it was more like a stranger lived in the house with him rather than his own mother. A new guy started coming to the house too, a strange man who acted to take the place of his father. He hated him, acted out against him, and refused to treat him like a member of the family. His mother's boyfriend had no place in his father's chair, or drinking out of his father's mug, or anything regarding his father. He got snappy with his mother and avoided people even more. Tokito, always alone.

One day he had stayed behind at school in the gym, preparing himself for a dinner with his mother and her boyfriend. He'd found a volleyball, kicking it around with impressive force and even more impressive control. A classmate came in, watching him for a few moments, before instructing him that that's not how you played volleyball. His name was Kaito Fujihara, an eighth grader on his middle school's volleyball team. What initially felt like annoying scrutiny became helpful guidance. Kaito took the ball and practiced with him. Taught him sets and passes, spikes not coming as easily as the other two in that first practice session. He taught him to use that same level of impressive force and control, however with his hands rather than his feet. Kaito told him he had skill in the game, and also asked him if he'd like to continue practicing with him. Toki said yes, grateful to have someone to interact with. Someone who acknowledged his skills and worked with him, just like he'd wished of his parents. He was unusually upbeat that dinner, his attitude towards his mother's boyfriend more of the polite, respectful kid he was inside.

Over the next few weeks, Kaito and Toki trained and trained and trained. They became good friends, Toki looking up to Kaito quite a lot. Tokito went to all of Kaito's games and discussed plays with him in length. When it came to the end of the year, knowing the two would no longer be in the same school, Kaito made Tokito promise to keep in touch, as well as join the middle school's volleyball team next year. And Tokito kept that promise in seventh grade, trying out for the team. Kaito asked his old buddies still at the school to give the kid a chance, despite him being a recluse not one person knew nor knew of his skill, and they saw how good he was at setting. His silent control over the ball, like a siren song, the torrent tune whistling into eardrums as the ball flew past heads and slammed into the opposing court. The eloquent spin of the ball as he set it drew people in and electrified them when it whizzed right past their head. It was determined that he would be the team's setter and helped win his middle school many victories. The nature of his siren song sets earned him the nickname, The Silent Victory Song.

Tokito played an impressive two years on his middle school's court, before finishing out at the tournament and having to move onto high school. During the middle schoolers' tournament, there were scouters from high schools who recruited kids for their high school's team. Being a sports heavy area in the school district, they wanted to get their hands on the young stars that would benefit their team. And Tokito had made quite the impression on one of the best teams in the district. Fuhai.

Should he choose to enter Fuhai, he'd be met with a guaranteed spot on their team and sweet victory with Fuhai's volleyball winning streak. His usual position of setter, as he'd been scouted for his amazing setting ability. Kaito advised him on all the different schools, their abilities, and stated that Fuhai was prestigious for their volleyball prowess. A winning streak and amazingly skilled teammates would await him. Fuhai seemed like everyone's dream, hard to get into the team, and not even his mentor Kaito had been offered a position at the school. The fact that Tokito was being scouted now was a big opportunity for the kid, and he gladly accepted it, joining Fuhai and their team in his freshman year.

The team was scary and big, and more impressive than him, he was sure. Especially the biggest guy on their court, Conner Muller, who made him look like a small fry in comparison. He didn't think he'd stick out much, but he ended up scoring many points for them, including several no touch aces. He scored the most aces out of anyone in the whole tournament, easily considered the best setter there. He was determined to play even better next year, being congratulated by Kaito on his team's win, who had gone to another high school and participated on a different team, and by his parents. His mother and her boyfriend now fiancé, who he'd been getting along better and better with ever since volleyball stepped into his life. It had been his stepfather who had first come to his games, and finally got his mother to go, and their bond had blossomed since then. His relationship with his mother seemed to greatly improve as well. Everything seemed to be going great for Tokito, driving out to go celebrate over dinner with his mother and soon to be stepfather.

It was pitch black and foggy, and another driver was coming head on, their brights distracting his mother. They swerved to get out of the way, hitting the car and flipping on its side. Tokito's body went weightless as the metal creaked and screamed, and eventually his head pitched to the side and hit the window right as it shattered on the road. Glass stuck into the left side of his face, sustaining major damage, as well as damage in his left leg from the impact. He went unconscious and entered a coma that lasted for the rest of the school year. Meanwhile, his mother and her fiancé had taken major injuries and had passed away, leaving him with no immediate guardians.

He'd woken up a few months later, confused on what exactly was going on. He couldn't remember who he was, or anything about him. He was lucky he'd been so easily identified, or else he would've likely stayed a John Doe. Through tests he was diagnosed with advanced retrograde amnesia, an inability to recall past events from before the accident, and to a dangerous degree. He felt miserable with the constant prodding of if he could remember this or that and started lashing out at doctors and nurses. That all changed with the appearance of an older boy and a ball. Instantly, he felt a strong yearning for him as soon as he stepped into the doorway, and the ball he brought along with him. On it read, "The Silent Victory Song will be heard once more." Kaito was a trigger for Tokito, but a good one. The boy felt an immense calm around him, his episodes of anger becoming less and less the longer Kaito was kept around him. And when he was discharged from the hospital, he found a place in the Fujihara household. They couldn't locate a family member to take Tokito in, not even his father, so Kaito's family had welcomed him with open arms.

When the year started up again at Fuhai, he returned to the court as a freshman yet again, missing too much of the year to continue onto sophomore year. His place on the team had been debated on. Would he be too weak and fragile to play again? The question that burned in the doctors' minds, only out of concern for their patient. Meanwhile, many of his team must've thought about whether or not he was still good, with Fuhai's competitive streak. However, through playing a practice match, he proved his skills were innate. He was every bit the setter he was before, and after the practice match, he could even recall a game Fuhai played in the past that had ended in the same way. The doctors determined that volleyball was a trigger to help him remember, a way to fight his amnesia, and allowed him to play. It was also good for his mental health. Everyone had seen his bright smile during that practice match, knowing even though he'd lost his memories volleyball was still a great joy in his life.

However, as the team practiced for the tournament that year, Tokito began having slipups. His left eye had been damaged, becoming slightly blurred at the edge of his vision, meaning he could barely see the ball hitting the far left of him. His left ankle had been damaged as well, so even if he could see the ball, he had problems making left turns. These new factors were weaknesses and could easily be targeted if other teams found out. He felt guilty, certain members of his team not helping, the boy beginning to grow stressed and anxious once more. Discussion had come up over whether he'd be pulled from the team, when something new entered his life. He'd gotten an emotional support dog to help with his recovery. A golden retriever named Haru, who helped balance him when he was stressed. The dog had been allowed at school, drawing more attention to Tokito, and eventually being seen as the volleyball team's mascot. With the introduction of Haru, his performance has greatly increased and has become on par with his teammates, ready for the next tournament.

Lately, Tokito has shown more glimmers of his past self, volleyball playing a major role in his recovery.

Likes: Volleyball- Animals- Cheesecake- Haru- Kaito

Dislikes: Amnesia- Loud people and noises- Fighting- Yelling

Positive trait: When Tokito isn't frustrated, he is usually one of the kindest people you can find at Fuhai. Whether it be calling a good game to losing opponents whole heartedly or going out of his way to help someone in need. Even just the action of letting someone immerse themselves in the calm that comes from stroking Haru's fur, he is willing to pay the actions of kindness that has been brought to him forward.

Negative Trait: Tokito is prone to quick frustration and lashing out, usually about struggles with his memory. Though he also has trouble with frustration when it concerns volleyball, and things he cannot do with the sport that he could in the past. He'll usually need a second to take a breather with Haru on his lap after such bouts of frustration and anger, to make sure his levels of stress stay under control.

Position: Setter
What school they attend: Fuhai
Height: 5'5
Weight: 109
Specialty: As a setter, Tokito is used to getting the ball high up in the air for his team's benefit. So, it's no shock that serving is his forte in competitions. His first year as Fuhai's setter, Tokito was responsible for the most no touch aces in the entire tournament. When it comes to serving, and specifically aces, he's your guy. With his level of force control, he can easily judge how much power he needs to put behind a hit to get the ball to go a certain distance, one of the reasons while he's both good at serving, and one of the best setters in the tournament. You can always depend on him on that front. It also helps ease his mind that there's almost no way for him to mess up with serving after coming back to play for Fuhai. It's mostly standing still, besides for the couple leg movements you have to do depending on which serve your performing. There's almost no way his bad leg could make him mess up, and no way for a certain member of the team to berate him because he's messing up their perfect performance. Overall, Toki finds the serving rotation less of a drag and more of an enjoyment.

Least Developed Skill: As a support-oriented player, Tokito is not known for aggressive hits. His style of play is specific to supporting his fellow teammates, and he rarely goes out of that comfort zone. He can jump to get a spike, obvious by when he makes serves using a jump, however his spiking skills leave much to be desired. His spikes are awkward and clunky, and he spends too much time calculating the force before it comes out too slow, and, unlike his serves, easily savable by the other team. If he saves a ball, his goal is never to get it back over the net with his hit alone but set it up for another player to do so, like Shino or Muller. Maybe some may say that's just him being a good team player, letting the others get those glories, however he does it because he is genuinely uncomfortable with that style of play. Personality often reflects playstyle, he heard once. And if someone like Connor, who was so aggressive and held a massive wall against everyone around him besides Oliver, could make hard spikes and block the ball from their side, his quieter personality reflected in his silent, but supportive playstyle. That's why they called him the Silent Victory Song, after all, cheering on the other players from his silent spot.​

 

[salem.]

• guyfailure
• boyloser
• EXTRA
• Extra 2

• 
  
  
  
  "I was so angry about how life kept moving on,"
  
  (Art by 1o8K_ on Twitter and Instagram.)
  
  Character Name: Connor Müller.
  
  Nicknames(s): Connie.
  
  Gender: Non-Binary. [He/They]
  
  Sexuality: Queer.
  
  Age: 17.
  
  Year: Junior.
  
  Personality:
  "I'm sure even the planets get bored of turning slowly all day."
  
  
  They're a captain, that's for sure.
  
  Connor is extremely dedicated. Determined, if you will. A firstborn winner. It's hard for them to give up, and it's hard for them to let the other team win. Like if that would ever happen. Müller's smart, analyzing, and strategic. He knows his team inside out, and it's the same for the opposing team. Connor has his... Ways of getting his mind-blowing wins. He's firm, strong-willed, and a presence to not be messed with. And while they aren't the biggest motivator, they're a great leader either way.
  
  
  Or, well, that's what he wants you to believe.
  
  
  Yes, Connor is all of that. Dedicated, insanely smart, strong-willed. But he's extremely irritable and sour, Müller always lets his feelings manage him, both in and out of game. Not to mention, most of the 'accidents' involving Connor are always tied to his bursts of rage. Well, ’bursts’ is putting it lightly. Connor can explode sometimes. While he doesn’t get physical in public as much as other people would like you to believe, he won’t hesitate if his line‘s crossed.
  
  It’s almost unnatural how easily Connor gets infuriated. He has something more than anger issues. It’s something deeper, and possibly darker. No one knows what’s resting in him outside of seemingly unjustified vexation and grudges. But... Do you really want to know?
  
  
  Connor’s an all-in-one. He’s a go-getter and a devoted captain. But he’s the troubled kid with bloody, bandaged knuckles nearly everyone’s afraid of.
  
  
  But… It would be harsh to just see them like that. Just like an impulsive, rabid animal.
  
  
  It's needlessly cliche, but Connor has a soft side. He isn't a complete monster. Either be it some certain people, things, or his unstoppable love for cats, there are things that Connor completely melts over. But it’s going to be a long time until anyone outside of someone gets close enough to Müller to know him beyond surface level.
  
  Maybe it’s because the walls he has put up are needlessly tough to get past, or maybe he just doesn’t like you.
  
  Who knows, either way, you probably don’t want to try to be their friend.
  
  "Brief" Background:
  
  TRIGGER WARNINGS: Mentions of abuse, substance abuse, self-harm , violence, descriptions of abuse scars, and general depressing themes.
  
  

  Spoiler: introduction😨

  ”You never loved me, did you?”
  
  Connor’s voice rang across the room, steps far from his father who slept on his words of resentment. Both literally and figuratively. Müller’s eyes were kept on the sleeping man, stalking him like a hawk for any sort of movement. Any sort of response. Did he even care? Did he know?
  
  Looking at his father, so far yet so close, was weird. Being around him felt painful. It clawed and ripped away bits of his back, a burning reminder. It was so, so hard to think straight. He could feel his heart hurting, and yet he was terrified. He wanted to cower and hide.
  
  He knew that whatever harm he would wish on his father, whatever needlessly violent fit of rage he’d love to lash out on his physical, was in all ways possible. Connor could freely beat his father just like he did him. Nothing was stopping him, really. Everything he’d once felt, experienced, and cried for, was all in front of him.
  
  But, yet again…
  
  ”I’m scared I’ll end up like you.”
  
  His brows would furrow as his gaze tightened, lips quivering. He held back tears of anger.
  
  “You’re fucking disgusting.”
  
  “I hope you know how much I hate you. I hope you rot.”
  *************
  Connor never lived an easy life. He never knew true calm.
  
  Far from it, really.
  
  There wasn’t any sort of downtime in his life. There wasn’t a certain time of the day when his security wasn’t threatened, or when he wasn’t threatening others. It’s a vicious cycle. He’s tired, sick, and miserable. But he can’t stop. He wasn’t taught. He inherited all of this. All of this revolting, socially suicidal behavior. His need to maim and hurt, his shattered brain.
  
  Everything anyone had ever done to him.
  
  It means everything.
  
  Every single moment of Connor’s life feels like constant, chaotic scribbles and noises. Everything is too loud. So, so loud. He’s scared. He’s always been. Müller is horrified of everyone, everything, and himself.
  
  Isn’t it hilarious? The tough, impulsive, semi-delinquent student always being afraid.
  
  He isn’t smart, he isn’t strong, and he isn’t a leader.
  
  
  Connor is abhorrent. Detestable.

  
  

  Spoiler: early lif (slowed) (reverb)⛓️❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹🥀🥀🥀💔💔💔🖤🖤🖤

  Connor can’t remember anything that happened before they moved to Japan. Yet it hurts them. It’ll always hurt them.
  
  He sees his childhood as a non-chronological, blurry mess. His mind has selectively messed up and made the events stuck within his head unrecognizable, but permanent. He’s constantly trying to suppress and forget, but it keeps coming back. It keeps haunting him.
  
  Born into a wealthy, rich family, Connor didn’t struggle when it came to liberties and finances. In consequence, that only fed further into his current ego.
  
  While he wasn't spoiled, he was certainly allowed more privileges than most. Gifted a little bit more things, more rewards than he even deserved, and nearly everything he asked for. Outside of that, there wasn’t anything notable that happened in his earlier years, except the way his vision of love was distorted.
  
  Every moment he wasn’t spending on school, he spent confused and fearful. Cowering in every corner he could at hearing his mother's and father's shouts. That’s the way that love was shown to him. Painful. It looked so painful to be loved. So destroying to be with anyone. While they definitely treated him better than they treated each other, he was still so, so confused. It was such an irrational type of confusion.
  
  The one that made him go years later after everything had happened;
  
  ******
  
  ”Would anything change?”
  
  
  Connor looked at his friend. He was… Stunned, to say the least. Müller couldn’t get a read of his face. Correspondingly, his friend was shocked, sad, and unbelievably worried. Who wouldn’t be? After hearing everything that Connor had told him?
  
  
  ”If…” He paused. Hesitated. His throat tightened. “If I wasn’t so scared?…”
  
  
  The bandages that decked his knuckles and palm tightly hugged his hand as he gripped his clothes tighter. He looked around the room, averting any sort of eye contact. Trying to both focus on his words and distract himself, from the reality of his miserable existence.
  
  “If I thought- If I-“ Don’t cry. “Would- Would-…”
  
  "I-I- The-“ Connor couldn’t hold it in. He lowered his head, shameful as held-up tears ran down his eyes and into his legs and bedsheets. His friend could only watch in worry, his arm would tremble as he reached his hand to touch Connor’s, trying to comfort him. He didn’t know how to.
  
  “I duhng- nnghh- I don't know w-w-why I'm crying." Connor’s voice shook, and it was terrible -
  His friend had never heard him waver.
  
  
  "Woah, hey…“
  
  ”It's... It’s fine. It’s okay, nothing‘s wrong with that...”
  
  
  But there is.
  
  Connor’s brows furrowed, and he closed his eyes. His breath was disoriented and all over the place. It shook and hesitated. The warmth of his friend’s hand didn’t seem to help, either. But he did take it, grasping it violently. It hurt. Everything hurt. His head, his throat, and his friend’s hand, probably.
  
  
  "I'm not w-weak," He gasped wetly. "I've h-h-had, had worse."
  
  
  "I know. I know that, alright? Crying doesn’t… It…It doesn’t make you weak."
  
  
  His breaths were tumultuous, his mouth agape. Tears kept streaming down his face.
  
  
  Begrudgingly, Connor had begun to scream.
  
  
  His shouts and wails were painful. he struggled against himself as his screams elevated in volume and strength. Shit, what was his friend supposed to do?… He knows how to deal with crying and breakdowns, but he didn’t know about this. This sort of emotion. The way you could hear his throat rasping and failing from the way he shouted onto nothing. Onto his friend.
  
  
  "D…” Inevitably, his friend was happy that Connor was letting everything out. It was always healthy. But the grip on his hand began to ache, and those screams really made him worry.
  
  
  ”Don't worry about it. Just take your- Just take your time…”
  
  
  Trying to speak to Connor while he cried so violently was like trying to see through a thick, blinding fog. He seemed to listen, attempting to stop his breath from quaking and crashing so much. For a moment, he looked into his friend’s eyes. That contact was special. Despite his vision being blurry and tearful, and despite him still screaming a little, he could still see his friend, and he was still there for him.
  
  Müller’s eyes were stained red and, obviously, full of tears. So many.
  
  The simple fact that Connor tried, or wanted, to look at him, to make contact in a situation where it’s so difficult to do so, made him smile just a little.
  
  
  “No one's judging you."

  
  

  Spoiler: early lif but..... two..

  A rocky life at home secured Connor a rocky life at school. Lucky him.
  
  Be it breaking, dying, friendships, or being an old-school bully, trouble always followed Müller into his academics. One thing that never seemed to stir in his life was his grades. You'd expect the run-of-the-mill, impulsive kid to have awful results in the school part of school. Connor doesn't remember it, but he was top of his class back then. He still is here, but not as often as he was in his old school.
  
  
  He doesn't miss those times, to be honest.
  
  
  All that trouble in school didn't come without consequence, constant notes about his 'unruly conduct' and 'violent actions'. Those stupid notes and calls only made everything worse. The pressure in his house was livelier than ever. Now, all of the shouts were directed at him. He was the problem, wasn't he? Was everything his fault?... That's what he understood. He was the reason being loved seemed, no, felt so painful. So tearing.
  
  Müller can't remember anything his parents said. Except for the words of his mother. Naturally, her words were the ones that hurt, and confused, him the most. Confused in the way of 'This isn't right'. Weren't mothers supposed to be soft, caring and supporting? That's what everyone told him. Why did he have to be the one with the shitty life? Did he do something wrong? Would anything change if he did something different? What could he even change?
  
  
  If he was a different person, would it still be his fault?...

  
  

  Spoiler: headcanon: connor listens to sports by beach bunny sometimes

  Connor never thought he'd find himself in this situation. It was the first time he had to sleep in his friend's house. It wasn't even embarassing. At that point he felt humiliated. His brows curved, standing a few steps in front of his friend. Müller's lips quivered. Who was speaking first?
  
  
  "Want to talk about what happened?"
  
  
  As his friend asked, Connor could only think of one thing.
  
  
  Why.
  
  
  No, not why, how do you expect him to want to talk?
  
  
  Müller was as run-down, tired-looking as ever. His posture lurched over his friend's, a disgusting, twisted curve. The way his eyes shined, holding back more tears than he should. The dark bags under them were more present than usual. While his hair was a common mess, this time he didn’t even try. His knuckles were red, purple, and swollen. At this time he didn’t have the ’comfort’ of bandages.
  
  
  Something happened. Why would he want to stay here for the night if ‘everything was ok’?
  
  
  "No."
  
  
  He was firm and quick. By that tone, you’d think he knows what he’s doing, that he’s got it just a little bit together. That this was only going to be a one-time thing. That he was sure he wouldn’t come back to stay for a night.
  
  
  He doesn’t.
  
  
  Everything fell apart that night in his house. If you could even call it a house at that point. It is Müller's own personal hell. He escaped that estate tonight. His parents would just barely be figuring out that he ran away. Connor’s legs trembled. He was so weak. Scared. He still felt some sort of ‘adrenaline’. But no matter how hard he calls it that, it wasn’t any adrenaline rush, he was horrified for his life.
  
  
  “Oh. Uhm...”
  
  
  “Is...”
  
  
  “Is someone hurting you?”
  
  
  He urged, concern in his voice.
  
  
  Connor’s body froze completely. What. What. He was numb with fear. How. Why. Was his friend going to ask further? Seeing how tense Connor’s getting, probably. He doesn’t want to answer. He can't. He can't. He can't. He can't.
  
  He looked deadpan at his friend. Please, don’t do anything. Müller can’t even speak. He can’t move. Please give up on me. I shouldn’t matter to you. I know I’m stupid. Please.
  
  
  “...” His friend’s silence struck him harder than it should. Just leave. Please, just leave.
  
  Then, it flashed before his eyes. He could remember everything once...
  
  
  Once his friend had hugged him.
  
  
  The horrid smell, the way the glass shards sounded on the floor. Connor’s own pained, strangled shout. How he grasped for his life on his mother's clothes. The desperate way he wanted to fight back, how he cried. The new scar that ran across his chest. The same scar that through thick cloth and cold skin was touched. It was still open. It still stung and ached below his warm embrace. It wasn’t warm. He didn’t feel the hug. He could only feel the way fabric stuck to the bleeding wound. How it coursed through his chest.
  
  
  “Don’t hurt me!” He cried.
  
  
  Instinctively, after that, Connor pushed Oliver away and began hyperventilating.
  
  
  Oliver glanced at Connor, stepping back. His eyes were full of worry and fear. He looked near ready to run away from him. But he wasn’t. He promised. He will stay here. Even if he didn’t know what to do.
  
  
  Connor was having another breakdown. His throat struggled for desperate breaths as he continued to hyperventilate, eyes alert, looking around everywhere. He was in danger again. His body told him so. He began taking steps back. Until his back hit the wall, that’s where he began to shout. A mix of screams of fear and pain, and pathetic, slobbering pleads against... Nothing.
  
  Oliver didn’t know what to do. He’d never seen Connor react so violently before. His jerks, sobs, breaths, and screams... Cypress couldn’t help him. Inevitably, he was scared of Connor. He shouldn’t intervene. But he should leave him alone. Not again.
  
  But he couldn’t stay. Connor was hysterical, he couldn’t help him if he tried. He was beyond repair.
  
  Reluctantly, Oliver exited the room. Leaving Connor to himself. Sharing one last glance before closing the door on him for the night.
  
  
  Connor didn’t sleep.
  
  
  He had spent the rest of the night crying.

  
  

  Spoiler: headcanon: connor probably hates the 14 of february

  Connor still feels the rage from his early teenage years.
  
  His fits of genuine anger were just passed as hormone snaps. He was just some teenage boy, it'll probably pass. Right?
  
  This stage in his miserable life marked his biggest trigger, the new scars that run across his abdomen and wrists, the day he moved to Japan, and the years he'd spent practicing for some stupid volleyball team.
  
  
  Oh yeah, forgot he plays volleyball?
  
  
  When he was a pre-teen, this single sport was one of the few reasons he kept trying. Well, that might be overdoing it, but Connor really loved volleyball. And it wasn’t for any specific reason. He was just... Great at it. No one inspired him to, there wasn’t any event that awoke this passion, and no one important in his life played it. He just... Looked at it, said “I’ll bite.” and gradually got to where he is.
  
  It’s... Pathetic. Pathetic compared to everything else he’s fought for and loved. Sure, the piling years of practice got him to where he is now, but aside from that, volleyball was just a side gig in his pre-teens, I guess. It’s such an underwhelming conclusion to his burning passion. But sometimes things are simple. Well... You can’t describe his teenage years as simple, to be honest.
  
  
  It’s better to talk about his one-sided interest than everything else that happened.
  
  
  When he was around 14, Connor hit his mental ATL. Everything that happened before culminated, and eventually exploded. The memories still run through his abdomen. He still carries the sole reason he moved to Japan on his mental and physical.
  
  
  It’s the most vivid memory he has. Compared to the gargled mess that his mind became. It’s still drowned, painful, and incomprehensible at some point. But that’s the farthest his memory had reached when it came to remembering traumatic events.
  
  He doesn’t want to describe what happened. He can’t. All that he knows was that he shouldn’t have intervened in whatever fight his parents had. That’s as far as his mind lets him go.
  
  
  His self-inflicted consequence, on the other hand, he can't drown out.
  
  
  It's one of the reasons he wears bandages around his hands and wrists. Behind the fabric, it rests. It continues to ache and burn. No matter how much he hides from it. He’s guilty. He doesn’t know whether it’s regret or the feeling that he should've done worse to himself, but it follows him.
  
  
  Either way, he knows he deserves it. And that he can’t go back. Despite how much he wishes, cries, and hurts for it.
  
  
  He feels even terrible for what happened next.

  
  

  Spoiler: headcannon: connor loves nirvana and his fav song is heart-shaped box

  Eventually, the violence between his parents became enough. Surprisingly, they had a limit. And everything was blamed on Connor, as if he didn’t have any breaking point himself.
  
  
  The fights had led to an inevitable divorce.
  
  
  Everything got even more dreadful once it started. Funny thing, that stupid divorce was meant to be the solution. Whatever was supposed to be resolved smoothly only made it worse. He didn’t know what went on, and to an extent, he didn’t care. It stayed the same, it was still hell on earth, it was still painful and confusing.
  
  Their days were spent cowering in corners and rooms. They‘d tell you they were protecting themselves, but Müller was completely hiding for their life. They cared. So much. They simply continued to try to drown themselves in lies and delusion, simply anything that would make them forget what was happening. Convincing themselves that they didn’t care, that even if all of this was deserved, they “didn’t mind”. For what they knew, Connor wouldn’t be in any higher risk, until…

  
  

  Spoiler: hc: connor probs has more internet friends than real friends tbh, and they’re probs all furries and he’s probs a furry too

  Connor had no idea what it was.
  
  
  
  But he knew what it meant. He was mindless about how, when, where, or why it happened, but he knew very well what was going to happen to him. Despite everything that he had done, said, and influenced him;
  
  
  
  His father had won custody over him. And he didn’t have a say in it.
  
  
  
  For a long while, he was kept on the quiet about what that would mean for him. Outside of his father… Owning him? That was the word. He probably wouldn’t even care for him. Just keep him around. Leaving him unable to escape. As far as he knew, or could understand, neither of his parents even cared for him outside of whatever was required. They fed him, gave him a roof to live under, and occasionally tried to make him happy. But at this point, anything they could buy wasn’t going to cut it.
  
  They couldn’t be satisfied by anything material anymore. Their only sources of happiness at the time were volleyball, the few time they got alone, and… Their best friend, Oliver.
  
  It feels off not having him mentioned earlier. He and Connor have been friends since… Forever. Since he could remember things less clearly. Since everything had started.
  
  He was his comfort zone, practically. Any other friendship he desperately tried to construct would fail under his own “mishaps.” Even then it was hard for Connor to treat people nicely. He’d inevitably inherit everything he’d seen from his parents. Thinking it was right.
  
  Because… Because inadvertently, that’s what he was taught. That “Mom and Dad” would always love each other. His mind, at the time, would translate that as everything that their parents did to each other, did to him, it was because they loved him. How that was love. How shouting, emotional baggage, and lifelong scars were love. How anger was love.
  
  
  
  Oliver didn’t change his mind completely, but it eased him more into actual relationships.
  
  
  
  He taught him that, basically, love didn’t have to hurt. It didn’t have to maim and rip at his senses, his skin. It didn’t have to confuse and
  
  When you say it out loud, it sounds childish, but how couldn’t it be? They were kids, after all. Connor didn’t know any better. And Oliver, against what seemed to be millions and millions of stop sings, tried to make Connor feel better. He didn't want to change him. To an extent, even as a kid, he knew he couldn't.
  
  
  Connor's...
  
  
  Beyond repair.
  
  
  You can't fix him. You haven't been able to find anyone that can fix him. You don't know, or haven't met anyone that makes him feel better. That makes him feel safe. And… You’re at fault. You know you are, you’ve always been. But you can’t change either. You don’t know why.
  
  But you can make it worse.
  
  You’ve always made it worse. He despises you. You know it. You know why. You can’t redeem yourself. You don’t want to. It’s all your fault and you’re only making everything worse. You’ve heard him. Every day he cries for help and you’ve done nothing. To a point, you don’t care.
  
  
  
  You’ve never cared.
  
  
  
  
  You never loved him, have you?

  
  

  Spoiler: wait no now that i think abt it thats kinda cursed but it does fit a little

  He didn’t know what was worse — That the news were delivered to him by his mother or the news themselves. His father didn’t even have the respect to tell it to his face. But that… Was probably for the better, if he’s being honest. “The news” left his mind completely…
  
  
  Shattered.
  
  
  *********
  
  “Your father, he’s…” His mother’s lips parted. Looking down. This was the most worried he’s ever seen her be for… Anything.
  
  
  “He’s moving to Japan.” Connor’s eyes widened. What? “And he’s taking you with him.”
  
  
  His ears started ringing.
  
  
  Absolutely blocking and drowning out anything and everything his mother said after, he was left to simply deal with this. Why was he even moving to Japan? He didn’t catch it. He doesn’t want to know. Who is he? What? How can this— Out of nowhere? His breathing began to quicken.
  
  He stared onto his mother’s eyes. A common gleam in them; Rage. Connor’s breaths unsteadied, he glared deadpan. He thought it was pathetic how his mother attempted to avoid eye contact with him. Why was she so ashamed? Was she even ashamed? Did she even feel anything at all? She should be ashamed. Of what she did to him. But Müller knows she’ll never be, and it’s not worth thinking over. She wasn’t worth a second of his time anymore. He wanted her to look at him, even if it was this last time.
  
  Even if she’ll never see him again, he wanted to know that she knew how enraged he was with her. Even without any words. The way his eyes stared seemingly blankly into her, the way he stood, a strange hunch. The way his hands shook, begging for him to hit something, anything. Anyone.
  
  
  Even if he wished, he couldn’t bring himself to hurt his mother.
  
  
  He was still terrified. Under the tense, overwhelming emotions he was feeling, was an animalistic feel to run away. His legs would shake. No. Why was he scared? He shouldn’t– He can’t be scared. He needs to fight back. But how? Could he even win? What was he even supposed to do? He didn’t feel fulfilled. His whole life he spent static and shaking. Letting everything happen to him everytime. He was sick and tired of being afraid of everything.
  
  Connor heard his heart beat under his chest. Everything was telling him to go. Go and maim, tear, hurt. But he’s afraid. Not of what his mother might do to him if he snapped. But of becoming like her. He doesn’t want to be everything his parents ever were. But he’s so close to reaching that.
  
  His intense glare broke. His head shouted. He began taking steps back. He shook his head, he looked to his sides, alert. He was in danger again, wasn’t he? Everything was taking some turn. He knew why he was afraid— And what he’s afraid of —But the fact that it was so intense is what bothered him.
  
  
  
  One day. One day he won’t be so afraid.
  
  
  
  That’s what he keeps repeating to himself. Until he finds safety. Until he… Finishes with everything. Until he’s done. He doesn’t care- One day he won’t be so terrified. That’s something he can count on. Knowing that nothing ever lasts. Not even this. Not even him. But this wasn’t a time where he could feel relief. He was still moving with his father to… God, it was so stupid. Why all the way to Japan?
  
  
  He didn’t know. And he’ll never ask. He doesn’t want to know anything about his father anymore. At least he still has…-
  
  
  
  Wait.
  
  
  
  What about Oliver?

  
  

  Spoiler: no but like his fursona would be some cool ass cat though

  Oliver looked at him, out of sorts. Only one word could leave his lips.
  
  
  “What.”
  
  
  He didn’t even word it as a question. Cypress was absolutely shocked. “Wuh- Why?... Why would?...” He struggled for words. He sounded in pain, but he was more worried for Connor than himself. How couldn’t he be worried for him? This was... Such a big deal. You can’t even say this is just some ‘big deal’.
  
  
  Müller’s life could be in danger.
  
  
  “Your...” Everything was still being processed in his head.
  
  
  “Your father is moving to- moving to Japan?”
  
  
  Reluctantly, Connor nodded.
  
  
  “And he’s taking you alone with him?”
  
  
  Taking a sharp inhale, he nodded again. It was such a slow, excruciating nod. Oliver’s brows would curve exaggeratedly, his eyes trembled. Why?! Why?! Why does he— How? How can his father take him like that? Was that even legal? What happened? Was...
  
  
  Was Connor never seeing him again?...
  
  
  “My father, he...” Müller pressed his thumb, fiddling with his fingers, anxious. “After...” He couldn’t bring himself to talk. He shook his head, disappointed in himself. Oliver wasn’t forcing him to talk, and physical contact was probably a no-go this time. He didn’t want to trigger Connor like he did back then.
  
  
  “He... Won.” Oliver already knew what he was talking about.
  
  
  “He got what he wanted.”

  
  

  Spoiler: but also he would love having some sailor-moon cutesy ass fursona tbh

  He felt like he couldn’t go on without Oliver. He was his only friend, damn it. Well… His only true friend. Everyone else he met at the time was uninterested, afraid, or Connor just screwed the relationship up. Like he always does. He always has to ruin something. And this felt like one of his biggest mistakes. Loosing Cypress.
  
  Even if it wasn’t his fault, Connor always felt guilty about the years he spent without his best friend. It was more of a ‘in consequence’. In consequence of feeling that his parent’s divorce, and eventual custody battle was his fault, him moving to Japan and leaving Oliver should be too… Right?… I mean, everything was to blame on him after all, why skip out on this?
  
  Why skip out on days, weeks, months, years of constant disassociation and hiding? Why skip out on time wasted crying, lamenting, hurting yourself, and hurting others?
  
  It didn’t make his life better, it obviously didn’t. There wasn’t any sort of spark for inspiration, like those you see on the movies. “I lost my best friend, but I still have ___! I will do my best for them!”
  
  No. That didn’t come for Connor.
  
  Every day he spent in misery and fear once he lost Oliver. There wasn’t any hopeful spark, no resurgence. He didn’t try harder. The only thing he was trying hard against was the urge to make everything end. It bit off and clawed at his senses, stuck in the back of his mind. A reminder. One he hated. But it was inevitable not to think about it. Not to have it linger and simmer on your head.
  
  He felt like he couldn’t follow that sit-still psychology that nothing lasts. “Even this will pass”. Connor was starting to give up. Slowly rotting in his room like he always does. Like he always will do. Like he’s destined to do.
  
  
  
  Connor was destined to suffer.

  
  

  Spoiler: headcanon: he listens to cavetown 24/7, fav song: sweet tooth

  Living with his father was worse than he could imagine. Worse than any outlandish nightmare he could’ve had. His father was worse alone than anything he had seen from him before. Sometimes he wished his mother had won custody. But the consequences of that would make him vomit. Everything did. Connor was sick to his stomach. There wasn’t a day he didn’t spend nauseous and sick. It was so tiring. So, so tiring.
  
  He knew he couldn’t change anything, that’s what made it so exhausting. A disgusting cycle he’s both forced and destined to repeat. A cycle of fear, anger, and dread. That specific word. Dread. It weighed and broke him. Slowly. Slowly but surely. He rotted away like he was supposed to. There wasn’t anything else for him.
  
  Nothing else. Connor was left empty. Despite him still practicing, volleyball couldn’t even bring a second of happiness to him anymore. He didn’t get better every day. It was an unstopping, blind slope. He stood between being amazing, and going back to where he started. Every day he walked on a mental tightrope. Everything seemed to irritate him more than ever.
  
  Every time he failed at anything, every second he had to spend with his father. Being around people. Everything. The simple act of talking would start picking away at his temper. Bringing him closer and closer to…
  
  
  
  Exploding.
  
  
  
  To becoming everything he swore against.
  
  Few have been the instances where Connor physically hurt someone. After all these years, he still has some sense of self control. He still knows it‘s wrong. But how he desires to harm. It was a feeling he never found satisfied.
  
  Well… Yet.
  
  He has yet to hurt someone. He knows he will. And he anticipates the day his hunger will be over in dread. He doesn’t want that opportunity to come across him, because he knows he’ll take it in a snap. To an extent, Müller knows what he’s capable of. He knows his strength.
  
  And what worries him, is that…
  
  
  
  He doesn’t know if it’s him that’s going to get hurt.
  
  
  He doesn’t know for how long he can hold himself back.
  
  
  
  And time’s running out.

  
  

  Spoiler: ?

  What is he doing here.

  
  

  Spoiler: ??

  Connor stared.
  
  
  His eyes agape.
  
  
  
  He could’ve sworn…
  
  
  
  That’s Oliver. That’s him.
  
  
  
  What is he doing here. What is he doing here. How is he here. When.
  
  
  
  
  He began to take small steps towards Cypress, hands sweating. There he was. His best friend. His safe space. Right exactly in the same place as him. Same school. Same everything. After two years. An eternity. Connor felt… Happy?… Something beneath troubled him about Oliver’s presence. It overshadowed any joy he could’ve felt by seeing him again.
  
  How. How was this possible? There wasn’t any logical explanation for this. This is wrong. This is definitely wrong.
  
  
  
  Eventually, his steps reached Oliver. He looked down at him.
  
  
  
  Cypress gave that same, childish smile he’d always wear whenever he sees Müller.
  
  
  
  
  “Connor! It’s you!”
  
  
  
  Was it?
  
  
  
  “I can’t believe it! Haha, I almost- I almost didn’t recognize you!” Oliver began to feel the weight of Connor’s silence. It crushed him.
  
  “Uhm-” The stutter unconsciously left his lips. “How have you- How have you been?” His speech became nervous. He was still ecstatic to see him again, but the stare he was giving him… It felt like he was analyzing him. Trying to detect something.
  
  Oliver flinched as Connor audibly exhaled. Müller’s gaze softened. His brows would curve slightly.
  
  
  
  
  “Good. It’s been good.“
  
  
  
  
  Connor was always good at lying. Oliver’s smile softly widened.
  
  
  
  Oliver looked into Müller’s eyes. They were still tired, sad, and… Angry. They always were. But today, just today, they had a certain gleam in them. Cypress likes to think that small shine in them was happiness.
  
  
  
  
  “Want to hang out later?”

  
  

  Spoiler: two pretty best friends

  Seeing Oliver again sparked hope, and safety, back into Connor’s brain. While it didn’t completely shift his perspective, it made everything better. Cypress was more than happy to listen and help him. He was glad to help him through his days, reintroduce volleyball into his schedule, and just… Brung out the little good that was left in him.
  
  Connor still needs more help- Professional help, -but Oliver had caught him just in time.
  
  
  But Connor was still confused.
  
  
  How did he get here? And in the same school as him? That was… Something that Connor couldn’t bring himself to ask. But he’s sure that it’s nothing. I mean, if his father was as outlandish to move to Japan, what’s stopping Cypress’ parents from moving to?
  
  He tries not to think about that. He’s just… Happy that he’s back with Oliver. And back to some safety. Back to playing volleyball. Back to… Where he started.
  
  
  
  He tries to ignore his father throughout his day. It was hard. The house wasn’t big and he was always in the living room. But whenever he could, he kept his distance. There were still… Days. Days that he’s trying to blur out. Days where he couldn’t hold on anymore. He’s still dreadful, tired, and miserable. But Cypress helped him distract his mind from that. He made everything worthwhile. He still had something to look forward to. Especially now, seeing as a new opportunity has opened up for him.
  
  
  
  Fuhai’s volleyball team.
  
  
  
  It took pushing through mountains of doubt (and motivation from Cypress) to take on the role of captain for Fuhai’s new team. But Connor had been playing for them for a while now. And out of… Everyone else in the team, he was the best. Plus, Müller hadn’t left the team. So there’s that. It could be another reason to get up everyday.
  
  And he definitely needed something more to look forward to. He’ll never get used to living with his father, and it’ll be a big while before he warms up to Japan and the Fuhai school itself, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try to get back up.
  
  
  
  
  Well…
  
  
  
  You can only try so much before giving up.

  
  
  

  Spoiler: men be like: “we’re just good friends !!”😴🥱🥱😬😬😬🤨🤨🤨🤨🧐

  (TRIGGER WARNING: murder mentions, description, and just general psychopathic behaviour :3)
  (TLDR: connor does a bunch of mental gymnastics, the episode.)
  (This is set before Connor moves to Japan (when he was like ~12-13) and contains heavy spoilers for Oliver’s backstory, take this as a little extra thing to his backstory. spin-off typa shit.)
  
  
  —
  
  
  Connor didn’t know what struck him.
  
  One moment, he’s knocking on his best friend’s door, eager and full of excitement to show him his new book and watch him play at his recital, the next, he’s in the backyard, crying his eyes out, and stringing something to a tree.
  
  Now, they were walking across the town, on their way to his house, and Connor was doing his best to play it cool, play it cool like Oliver beside him did.
  
  Müller had no idea how his friend did it, really. He himself was struggling to keep a cool head, to not drop to his knees and scream on the spot, scream out his terror, his grief and those other conflicting emotions he couldn’t quite name, all at once.
  
  And it wasn’t even his brother they had just hung.
  
  It was Oliver’s. It was Ed, their beloved Edward, Edward who was always there if you needed him, Edward who always had hugs to spare, Edward who warded off all their evil spirits like a lily of the valley.
  
  
  
  But there his bigger brother was, walking besides the raven-haired boy, sometimes stealing glances at him but other than that, completely unfazed.
  
  Connor assumed it was shock, or disbelief, or some form of coping mechanism, but he wasn’t really sure. For the first time in forever, Müller couldn’t read his best friend’s face, and it scared him, because he could only imagine the pain he must be feeling right now.
  
  Hell, even Connor, who was definitely not as close to Edward as Oliver, felt as if sadness and guilt could just drown him out on the spot.
  
  
  Guilt.
  
  
  That’s right, Oliver had to be feeling plenty of that too, didn’t he?
  
  Connor walked right in on it, walked in on the broken body, on Oliver yelling at Edward, on Oliver looking at his younger brother’s corpse in what he could only assume was sock, all right in front of him.
  
  He couldn’t get that image out of his head, his hair splayed out on the cold, wooden floor, his neck bent at an angle that Connor would think impossible had he not seen it, and blood slowly but surely spreading from some wound he couldn’t identify, staining his perfect, white shirt in dark crimson.
  
  Looking up at Oliver, his face had been unreadable then too, at least for the most part, because the one thing Connor could filter out of his pretty pale blue eyes was panic.
  
  Pure, unfiltered panic, panic that this was it, that this was going to be the end of his life, his friendships and everything worth living for.
  
  And so, Connor, messed up as he thought it was, helped him cover it up, helped relieve him of his panic if nothing else, ensure that the boy he cared so much about at least had some kind of future, that he wouldn’t be locked away for the rest of his days because he accidentally shoved his brother down the stairs.
  
  
  
  Accidentally.
  
  Connor didn’t see what exactly his friend had done, but he assumed it was an accident, some kind of terrible fluke, that he had tried to get past him and his bad knee gave in, sending him flying, because honestly, Connor couldn’t imagine what else it could have been.
  
  Unless, of course, it wasn’t Oliver who did it. It was something else, something next to him, something beside him, something behind him.
  
  
  God, Connor just couldn’t get that eye out of his head.
  
  
  In any case, Connor knew that Oliver didn’t want Edward to fall, because why would he, and so Müller acted according to Cypress’ request and saved him, no matter the implications.
  
  But those implications were catching up to him, and Connor felt nauseous as he remembered how he strung his pale neck to the tree and let go, watching his body close the noose and hearing his bones crack one last time as what remained of his neck snapped, never to be intact again.
  
  
  
  …He was snapped out of thought when Oliver tugged on his hand.
  
  Oh right, they were at his house already. That was… quicker than expected. He must’ve been really deep in thought, letting his autopilot take the wheel as he walked across the town.
  
  Connor took a deep breath and cleared his throat, trying his best to put on a normal voice for his mother.
  
  “Hi…” he said to himself in the most cheery tone he could muster up. Not very convincing.
  
  
  “Let me do it.”
  
  
  There it was again. Oliver sounded so… Indifferent about all this? He was more talkative than ever, but at the same time, Connor found himself having a hard time understanding his friend. He tried his best to shake it off.
  
  
  He’ll tell me how he feels when he’s ready. This must be so shocking to him.
  
  
  Connor nodded at his friend absent-mindedly before opening the door and being greeted by the smell of iron and emptiness. It looked like there was no one home. Again.
  
  Honestly, he was expecting to at least his mother to be present today, something to distract him from what he had just done, but yet again, there wasn’t anyone to comfort him, to tell him that “Everything is going to be ok.”… No one but Oliver. Oliver, his best friend. His only friend. The one he saved. Connor wasn’t going to let them take Oliver away for what he knew was a mistake. He wasn’t going to let Oliver go.
  
  
  Connor quickly made his way through the room, Oliver following him closely.
  
  
  Thank God for whatever the hell is happening with Oliver.
  
  Shutting the door to his own room behind him, Connor took a deep breath. What the hell were they even gonna talk about after something like that?
  
  Before Connor could lock the door and turn around, Oliver had already sat himself on his bed, uninvited but welcome nevertheless. Connor sat down to the left of his friend.
  
  Sitting there, next to the silent boy, he felt scared again, waiting for his friend to break down in front of him, to finally take off his facade, to scream at him for hanging his sister before leaving him all to himself, or to do literally anything other than deadpanning like this was just any other day.
  
  Connor just wanted him to speak, to say what he was thinking, to tell Müller he hated him, to confirm that Connor had messed up and to finally leave him like he deserved, because what kind of best friend would willingly hang your brother?
  
  As he realized and came to terms with the scope of the situation to the best of his ability, Connor was certain that this was it, that this was the moment where it all would fall apart, right here, right now, he’d lose first Oliver, then everyone else when they’d learn what he had done to their beloved Edward.
  
  They all would detest him, leave him to be, and once his family learned too, he’d be all by himself again, left alone just like he was six years ago.
  
  
  
  Connor was ripped out of his spiraling thoughts when he heard an unexpected noise beside him.
  
  
  
  Oliver’s snicker was subtle at first.
  
  
  But as it grew in volume and prominence, Connor’s seemingly outlandish suspicion was confirmed — His friend was indeed laughing, laughing like he had just scored a good grade, heard a great joke or was reminded of some other funny situation.
  
  It was so out of place, so inappropriate, and so wrong, and Connor, having no idea where his friend was coming from, just stared at him, trying to figure out his expression.
  
  
  Oliver‘s eyes were lit up, almost sparkling with light, his lips were formed to a wide smile, and there were no tears in his eyes.
  
  
  This was no desperate laugh, Oliver wasn’t trying to hide his pain, he looked genuinely happy, and he genuinely smiled.
  
  
  Connor barely saw Oliver smile today.
  
  How is this the time for that?
  
  
  But, messed up as it may be, seeing his best friend laugh so genuinely, so worriless and so joyfully, Connor couldn’t help but smile too.
  
  
  And he hated it, he hated it so much, but before long, they were both sitting on the bed, laughing like they hadn’t just covered up a horrific accident that would most certainly change the trajectory of both their lives for the worse.
  
  
  As their laughter faded, Connor looked at his best friend again, his glance even more questioning this time.
  
  
  “Oliver? What was that about?”
  
  
  Oliver just smiled at him sheepishly, doing a subtle shrug with his shoulders.
  
  
  “We’re getting away with it, Connor.” he said, or chirped, rather.
  
  
  Really? That’s why you laughed?
  
  
  His heart was racing now as he finally realized just how little this whole situation phased his friend.
  
  “But… Edward is dead, Oliver. How can you just laugh at that?”
  
  
  “You laughed, too.”
  
  
  For Christ's sake, Oliver.
  
  Connor averted his gaze, flushing a little. Just why exactly had he joined the laughter? Was there some bit of him that enjoyed this whole ordeal?
  
  No, it couldn’t be, Edward was their friend and Edward was dead, there’s no way in hell any of this could be even remotely close to enjoyable for either of them!
  
  
  But then why did he laugh?
  
  
  “Edward pushed me too far, Connor. He hurt me. So I hurt him back.”
  
  
  
  Surprised, Connor gazed into his best friend’s pretty blue eyes, trying to read them. Did he really mean that?
  
  Oliver was looking at him expectantly now, as if he was waiting for an answer, for some kind of confirmation that Müller understood him.
  
  
  But Connor didn’t understand him.
  
  
  For the first time in forever, Connor felt completely lost trying to relate to his friend. Of course he knew that all the piano practice stressed his friend, but the extent of it, he never found out.
  
  
  Did Edward really push him that far? Did he really hurt him that badly?
  
  
  Connor looked deeper into his friend’s eyes, and could find no glance, no little detail that told him that Oliver was being ingenuine, that he was lying to cope with what had just happened.
  
  
  So Oliver really pushed him.
  
  
  
  And he wanted to push him.
  
  
  
  And he feels no regret?
  
  
  That can’t be right.
  
  
  
  
  “What… What did Edward do to you, Oliver?”
  
  “He blamed me for his mistakes. He used me to make himself feel better.”
  
  
  
  Oh.
  
  So Oliver felt treated unfairly by him? Abused, even?
  
  
  Maybe he really did want to push him, hell, to kill him then.
  
  
  On some level, Connor understood him, no matter how extreme Oliver was being.
  
  He hated the idea of being used as an emotional punching bag, to be blamed for misdoings that weren’t even yours, and if Edward really did that to Oliver, then maybe he really did deserve being pushed?
  
  That was a leap to say the least, but Connor had to try his very best to understand Oliver, because if he didn’t, then it would all be for naught, if he couldn’t understand him, then he hanged his best friend’s brother for no good reason at all.
  
  
  
  “...He really hurt you then?”
  
  Oliver nodded.
  
  “...For how long?”
  
  
  “Years.”
  
  
  Was that right? Could that be right?
  
  Edward had always seemed so good, so compassionate and caring to everyone around him, but maybe he was different at home?
  
  Could that really be the answer? Was Oliver keeping that from him for all these years just like Connor kept his thoughts regarding his family from him?
  
  Did Edward listen to Oliver talk about all those plants and bugs, not out of love, but to keep his scapegoat?
  
  That would at the very least explain why Oliver was so talkative and generous with his smiles all of the sudden.
  
  If what he said was true, then maybe Edward’s abuse of him had been the reason for his shyness.
  
  It was the only way Connor could justify such a phenomenon at least.
  
  
  
  Of course Connor knew how insane these thoughts sounded, but shouldn’t he trust his best friend? Oliver had always been true to him, so why would he start lying now?
  
  Connor just had to believe him, believe that behind the curtains, Edward was not a good person, and that what they had just done to him was completely justified, because if it wasn’t then that’d make them monsters, truly terrifying and despicable monsters, and they couldn’t be monsters, especially not Oliver.
  
  
  
  
  And so, Connor chose to believe Oliver, to take him by his word, simply for the fact that it was the only explanation he could possibly cope with.
  
  
  
  
  They weren’t monsters. Oliver wasn’t a monster.
  
  
  
  Edward deserved to go. So Oliver could be safe. So they could be together.
  
  
  
  
  Forever.

  
  Likes and Dislikes:
  
  LIKES:
  ✓-CATS. ✓-Chocolate anything. ✓- Poptarts. ✓-Psychological Horror Movies & Games. ✓-Space.
  ✓-Watermelon. ✓-Slow Rock. ✓-Cold drinks. ✓-Algebra. ✓-Tea. ✓-Volleyball, obviously.
  
  DISLIKES:
  ⓧ-Strawberry flavored anything. ⓧ-Geography. ⓧ-Pop music. ⓧ-Parties. ⓧ-Dogs. ⓧ-Haircuts.
  ⓧ-Slasher films. ⓧ-Hot climates. ⓧ- The Elderly. ⓧ-Small children.
  
  Positive traits: Connor is extremely persistent. Usually. No wonder he’s been on volleyball for so long, even if his reputation hits the slums from time to time, and even if it makes him extremely infuriated on occasions, he still plays. And he still loves it. Or, well, he still loves winning.
  
  They won’t budge easily. For whatever it be, Connor will put up a fight. Either for their team or for themselves, Müller isn’t going down without some struggle. At least, not again. Connor never seems to let their guard down, in most senses, they’ve become unmovable by the events that still haunt them.
  
  Negative traits: The biggest of their flaws is their irritability. If Connor isn’t bored, they’re angry, sad, or a mix of both. Or, you know, they’re happy. But that’s once in a blue moon. Their cranky attitude tends to frustrate others as well, bringing everyone down with them at times.
  
  He’s unable to cool off. There are times when Connor barely rests. Either for volleyball practice or just general sleep and self-care. That, of course, causes some worse temper (as if it wasn’t bad already) and a bit more haziness. Explains the usual dark bags under his eyes.
  
  He’s inevitably impatient. If things, especially games, don’t go or end fast, it’s very probable that he’ll get frustrated about it. His team should be winning faster, damn it!
  
  Position: Captain, Opposite Hitter.
  
  What school they attend: Fuhai.
  
  Appearance/General Style: The first thing people note about Connor is his near-exaggerated height, way above average. Easy for him to gain the upper hand in certain situations. It’s hard not to feel slightly intimidated right next to them. Well, it depends on who you are, really.
  
  Another thing easy to note is the bandages on their arms, reaching from their knuckles to their lower wrist area. Used to cover both fighting wounds and self-inflicted scars.
  
  Their common clothing, outside of their uniform, consists of baggy shirts, pants, and sweaters. He never liked regular-fitting shirts, but it’s hard to find something above his size. Or anything in his size that’s baggy. Sometimes he wishes he wasn’t so tall. Only sometimes.
  
  He tends to dress "emo", but he'll never admit it. Don't... Don't call him emo.
  
  Height: 6'5
  
  Weight: 165 Ibs (Underweight.)
  
  Extra:
  -Favorite food is lasagna. (GARFIELD?!)
  
  -Scared of big houses, mansions.
  
  -Writes and draws in his free time, not good but not bad at it.
  
  -Eats in class a lot, always seems to get away with it.
  
  -Favorite kind of tea is blueberry tea.
  
  -Hates psychics class, loves algebra.
  
  -Loves ranting about his hyperfixations, and tends to make his current obsession his personality.
  
  -Had a journal on his freshman years, really ashamed of it.
  
  -Used to have a pretty cute tooth gap as a kid, got brackets and fixed it.
  
  
  
  “What? It’s not like I’m not getting away with it.”
  ​
• 
  
  ", so many thoughts and emotions have been eating at me lately… but there's something very calming about this moment.”
  ​
  
  (Art by kotorikuns over at tumblr.)
  
  Character Name: Oliver Cypress.
  
  Nickname(s): Levi, Ollie.
  
  Gender: Cisgender Male. [He/Him]
  
  Sexuality: Bicurious.
  
  Age: 17
  
  Year: Junior.
  
  Personality: There’s something sad about Oliver.
  
  Maybe it’s his strange passiveness or the way he always puts others before himself. It’s hard not to feel melancholic next to him. The way he always lets things just... Happen to him. He doesn’t, or can't make an effort to go against the tide, change unhealthy habits, or try to make something different in general. Sometimes, he feels like all days go by the same. Like some sort of tiring loop.
  
  
  Outside of that, you wouldn't be wrong to call Levi a... Nobody. Well, that really depends on who you are.
  
  
  He's the last person you expect to like and play such an active and hands-on game like volleyball. Oliver is heavily serene. While he does get extremely anxious and agitated at times, you mostly just see him as the soft, calm, and caring boy next door.
  
  Cypress is always uplifting, happy, and plain joyful. It'll take a long time until you get to see him sad or angry. Not that he doesn't feel negative emotions, just that... He won't show them in public. He's always ashamed of his feelings, and while not precisely keeping up some sort of persona, he's scared of having other people see him weaker than he already is.
  
  He doesn't like confrontation, prefers to stay alone, and has an amazing heart for people. Even those that are deemed unlovable.
  
  While he isn't exactly vulnerable, people feel like he lends himself out too much. You can only be so kind until people start taking advantage of you. And Cypress' problem is that he can't notice when he's being used. It always takes him a heartbreaking explanation for him to realize that. And still, he doesn't want to let go.
  
  
  He's terrified to be alone.
  
  
  Maybe it's because he's used to having people that like him, or at least act like they do, around him, or because he's scared of people leaving him. And either way, Oliver won't lose a friend, not again. After everything, he's been, and put himself, through it's hard to blame him for being this clingy and sensitive. He'll never talk about it, though. He can't.
  
  
  A white egret orchid. in the language of flowers, it symbolizes the phrase "my thoughts will follow you into your dreams."​
  
  “Brief” Background:
  
  TRIGGER WARNINGS: Murder, the description of violence and blood, general violent themes, child neglect/abuse, psychosis, general depressing themes, (very) unhealthy obsessions, suicide attempts, descriptions of self-harm wounds.
  
  
  Spoiler: Spring.

  “Everything is going to be okay... Everything is going to be okay... Everything is going to be okay... Everything is going to be okay...”
  
  
  
  He cried to himself, in front of the mirror atop the bathroom sink, looking down at his injured, shaking hands. They were covered in blood that wasn’t his. Guilty, guilty, guilty.
  
  His breaths would wetly spasm, his vision blurred by the number of tears running down his face. Cypress’ legs quivered, taking steps backward in a fit of disbelief.
  
  
  He was wavering alone in his bathroom, hyperventilating and sobbing on his sink.
  
  
  His mind can’t recall anything that happened. He can’t remember anything. He doesn’t want to. He could only recall the terrifying breaths of horror, the ashamed, fearful gasps, and the consequences of what he’d done. Of what he’d done. That phrase stung in his head as he’d never felt before. It caused the tears streaming down his face to elevate and worsen, as well as his breathing. Barely thinking about the truth made him sick. It disgusted him.
  
  
  His ears rang, desperate to find anything else that would assure him that nothing was going to happen, that “Everything’s going to be okay.”. For him. For his friend. That it wasn’t his fault. He was innocent, right? It was an accident. Surely. It wasn’t him.
  
  
  His friend saw it too. Something behind him. He didn’t do anything. Something had made him… He couldn’t have done this. He couldn’t have thought about this. This was wrong. Please let him wake up. He didn’t do anything. He didn’t do anything. He didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t do anything. I didn’t-
  
  
  
  Oliver began to vomit onto his bathroom sink.
  
  
  
  Cypress was completely sick to his stomach. It wouldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. Just the thought of what he had done was revolting. The fact that, in a crevice of his mind, he’d fully accept it with open arms. The truth… The fact…
  
  
  The fact that he let something push him to do it. He shouldn’t have let it happen.
  
  
  The fact that his hands, grasping for the corner of the sink, were stained and dripping with someone’s blood.
  
  
  The fact that his knuckles and fingers still ached, yearning for more.
  
  
  But what was more? More suffering? Or more satisfaction? The satisfaction that Oliver had felt. The one that he tried to suppress between disgusting vomits and even worse crying. The way that he laughed and smiled once there was no going back. How he continued.
  
  He vomited. Vomited at the fact that his mind was telling him that deep down, he liked this. He liked the wails and shouts of who he’d hurt. Because they deserved it…
  
  
  
  
  …
  
  
  
  
  
  
  …Right?
  
  
  
  -
  
  
  
  Oliver’s life was fairly simple.
  
  
  For his early years, around 1-3, Cypress was an only child. He would’ve preferred if it stayed that way, but he would be lying if he didn’t enjoy the starting company of his sibling.
  
  
  Everyone knew Oliver as a caring, young boy. His mother always described his eyes as ‘kind’ and ‘thoughtful’ since the day he was born. Nothing could be pointed out as strange in his behavior. Sure, some neighbors thought that it was weird that Oliver’s way more passive and inactive, compared to other kids his age, but nothing seemed too out of the ordinary.
  
  Even in his school, Oliver was always in a comfortable average when it came to grades. They weren’t bad, but they could be higher. But he never remembers his parents telling him to better his grades, he was doing good enough, and that seemed to suffice for everyone.
  
  Everything in Oliver’s childhood could be described as normal. Starting out single child, good grades, cheery attitude, and… Caring parents. For the most part. At first, they did care, or it seemed like they did. Thinking about his family, in general, brings him an intense amount of sorrow and dread, especially when he thinks about…
  
  
  
  His younger brother; Edward Cypress.
  
  
  
  
  This spring would’ve been his 15th birthday.
  
  
  Spoiler: The Backyard.

  Edward was never a bad younger sibling. While, sure, he played his role in often annoying and worrying Oliver, that was to be expected. And over the years, Cypress would learn to love and tolerate his brother. It was hard to get used to not being a single child, but he loved people! Family members, friends in school, and teachers, and he even loved bugs!
  
  His family always thought that was Oliver’s off-trait, the thing that made him seem not-so-normal. The love and affection he had for bugs, and especially plants. While they never thought it was something inherently wrong, it definitely wasn’t normal for a small kid to be so soft and caring for something so hated as a beetle, or a spider.
  
  And most kids his age thought plants were boring! Cypress never knew why. Plants were so, so interesting. Watching them grow every day, planting them, getting to know them, and caring for them better than you did some people… Every plant he has is special to him. Plants and bugs don’t want to hurt him, after all.
  
  
  -
  
  
  
  Oliver sat on his knees right after scooping up whatever Edward was screaming about. His hands bowled to keep the mysterious object- or being -inside them.
  
  He separated his thumbs to take a closer look at what he was dealing with.
  
  
  
  ”You should be more careful, Edward…” Oliver warned his younger brother, a hint of irritation in his tone.
  
  
  
  He gently held the terrifying bug inside his hands, carefully cupping it and closely observing the insect- A spider. A really big one, at that. Oliver almost seemed unfazed to have one on his hands. He liked it. The feeling of having a bug crawl around on your skin, that is. He felt like… He was protecting the small being. Which, technically, he was, because Edward was just going to step on it before he rescued it.
  
  
  
  “Eeeeeewwwww!!” The younger boy wailed, and Oliver turned to look at him.
  
  
  
  “What?” He smiled, a bit confused.
  
  
  ”That’s a spider!” He cried as if it wasn’t obvious.
  
  
  ”Are you scared?” His tone was a mix of genuine question and malice, but his intentions would be known once he moved his hands closer to Edward, who in turn, lunged backward in what could be disgust.
  
  
  Oliver chuckled, “Sorry, sorry.” He couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty for scaring his younger brother.
  
  
  “I just… I think spiders are really misunderstood, you know?” Oliver spoke softly. His brother, curious, got closer.
  
  
  “They might look a little bit scary,” He watched the spider roam his right hand, eventually separating his hands altogether, seeing as the bug began to crawl onto his arm. Edward thought his brother was so brave.
  
  
  “But they never hurt you unless you scare them!” He smiled, trying to make the spider a bit more comfortable.
  
  
  “They’re also one of my biggest helpers when I’m gardening,” He moved his arm around the spider “They eat a lot of the pests that might hurt my plants.”
  
  
  Edward watched closely, maybe too closely, as Oliver moved the spider from one arm to another using his hands.
  
  ”It’s all about the balance of nature!” The blond chirped, happy that his brother bothered to listen to his explanations.
  
  
  “Balance of nature?” Edward asked, innocently.
  
  
  “Yeah! They keep everything in check,” He turned to look at Edward. “So nothing bad happens!” That’s a simple way to put it.
  
  
  His brother seemed to understand, though, evident by his small nod.
  
  
  “And, I know that the spider must’ve looked so scary to you, but I promise that you probably looked a whole lot scarier to the spider!”
  
  
  “Uh- No… No offense, of course, haha…”
  
  
  -
  
  
  Oliver’s relationship with his parents wasn’t the worst. Really caring mother, she always supported or at least tried to support, his passion for bugs and gardening.
  
  
  His father, though, he isn’t sure about.
  
  
  Cold but never cruel, Bryce Oxford was always distant. He barely knew anything about his son, and while he wasn’t necessarily bad every time he did see him, things were complicated in a way. Truth is, Oliver didn’t lament his absence as much as he thought he would, he barely knew anything about the man, so he didn’t feel anything to long for.
  
  Or, well, that’s what he tells himself. That it ‘didn’t affect him’. It did. But every single time he tries to remember what happened, it gets shoved down his mind in an attempt to forget. The fact that everything he can remember about his father is far looks and enraged shouts. From one day…
  
  
  He did something bad, didn’t he?…
  
  
  No, no. Nothing happened. Forget about it. It wasn’t him that did it, anyways…
  
  
  
  …
  
  
  
  Outside of his strangely unaffectionate mother, chirpy younger brother, and distant father, Oliver didn’t have any other friends or people to ‘hang out’ with. Most kids thought he was weird. And… Well, he might be. With his strange preference for bugs over people, and how he cared a lot for plants, there weren’t a lot of kids that wanted to hear him talk about flowers.
  
  
  But… There was always someone who stuck with him.
  
  
  
  More than he should. More than was needed.
  
  
  
  Enough to put both of them in danger.
  
  
  Spoiler: Gladiolus.

  Oliver can still remember the day he first met Connor.
  
  
  He doesn’t know whether that’s a good or bad thing.
  
  
  He’d heard a lot about Müller before meeting him, they attended the same school, after all. Cypress wonders why they didn’t meet earlier than they did, before remembering how.
  
  People always talked about Connor as some sort of animal, something that’s violent and impulsive. Whenever his name popped up in those small conversations, they often talked about how mean he was. A bully, in simple words. But Cypress never felt afraid at hearing that, rather, he was confused. Confused about whether he should listen to his “friends” warnings, or try and… ‘Save’ Connor.
  
  
  He never saved Müller.
  
  
  He merely made both of them worse than they already were. Disgusting, vile ‘people’.
  
  
  He didn’t know what he was expecting of him for first impressions. As a kid, the thing he always noticed about him was the band-aids and bruises that coursed around his arms and legs, and how his knees were always red, scraped and hurt. The first thing he’d said to Connor was:
  
  
  -
  
  
  “Are… You okay?” Oliver’s lips quivered as he held his little lunch bag in his pale, shaky hands, clutching it as if his life depended on it.
  
  The black-haired boy turned to look at him dead silent. That only made Cypress’ anxiety worse.
  
  “I guess.” He shrugged, uncaring.
  
  Oliver exhaled, practically sighing from relief, no matter how simple or meaningless the answer was. He glanced at the bruises and simple, beige bandages decking his legs and arms. Connor noticed his looking, pale blue eyes gazing back at him with newfound attention, similar to him.
  
  ”You fell pretty badly…-“
  
  
  “-I didn’t fall.”
  
  
  Müller’s interrupting, quick replies worried Cypress on some level, especially this one. ‘I didn’t fall’? What did that imply? Oliver felt like Connor wanted to avoid the situation altogether. But the way his tired eyes looked at him made him think otherwise.
  
  
  “Uhm-“ He felt the air thicken and soon turn embarrassing around them. What is he even supposed to say?
  
  
  
  “Want to eat lunch together?”
  
  
  
  ”Sure.”
  
  
  -
  
  Now, all of his afternoons alone would be spent with Müller, talking about his plants, watching movies, having picnics and reading books.
  
  Especially the last one, reading could’ve very well been both of their favorite activity at the time, hours spent in libraries and in Cypress’ room, reading and reading. They mainly read detective stories, tales that detailed bloody mysteries and murders. Oliver was always shunned for showing specific interest in these dark topics, but it never seemed to bother him, because Connor liked it too!
  
  Oliver was surprised at how much he learned about Connor, he’d never expected their friendship to grow into what it is now. There was always something off about Müller, though. Something that Cypress only seemed to note.
  
  The increasing bruises on his arms and legs without reason, while, yes, Connor did get mean sometimes, he never saw him get physical that badly. And he never fell so roughly, as far as he knew. Oliver was left wondering where all those bruises and band-aids came from. He could only think of the worst. Cypress thought that he might be the one getting bullied, but countless checks told him otherwise. He never imagined what the actual truth was.
  
  Connor always talked to him about his family, and how revolting it really was.
  
  Cypress has always been a good listener by nature. Some days Müller would spend their time together talking to him and crying about how much he hated his father and mother. How he wanted to get away from them and run. About how every day there was a new bruise on his arms, his legs. How his closed family's shouts wouldn’t stop any time.
  
  In one way or another, Oliver could relate. Especially when Müller spoke about how his family never seemed to listen or pay attention to him. Cypress always shared how his relationship with his brother and father was, and how his parents wanted them to play instruments. He could recall the moment his father told him to start doing something productive as if caring for plants wasn’t something he should be doing. How his brother was going to play with him.
  
  
  He didn’t see the reason why, but he remembers what Connor had said about it.
  
  
  -
  
  
  “My dad wants me and Ed to play piano…” Cypress said, insecurity in his voice.
  
  He’d look at the juice box in his hands, moving it around, fiddling it nervously. He would hear Connor huff out of his nose, he couldn’t pick up on what that meant.
  
  
  “Why?” Connor simply asked, turning to look at Oliver, who was always nervous.
  
  “I don’t know.” He let out a soft, sheepish smile. “I guess I like the piano. But I don’t know.” Oliver repeated his speech.
  
  
  “I think you’d look good playing it.” Müller let out one of his rare smiles. Oliver appreciated that. He always thought Connor’s small tooth gap looked cute.
  
  
  He didn’t understand what Connor meant by that. ‘I think you’d look good playing it’? That’s a nice, but weird thing to say. Maybe he would look better playing the piano than doing nothing. Did the instrument suit him?
  
  
  “I feel like I’m going to miss time with you.” It felt like a big deal having piano taking up his schedule. Who wouldn’t prefer hanging out with their buddies to playing piano? ”Thank you, though.”
  
  Connor shrugged. ”Yeah.” He turned back to look at Cypress. “When are you going to start playing it?” He sounded almost impatient.
  
  
  “I think this month,” He looked back at Müller. “I’m not sure.”
  
  
  “Can you tell me when?”
  
  
  “Yeah.”
  
  
  
  
  
  He had no idea how much playing the piano would ruin his life.
  
  
  Spoiler: The Piano.

  Oliver wasn’t bad at piano. Not in any sense.
  
  His family would always commend him for his seemingly natural skill. How he seemed to know every note perfectly. Each melody he’d learn would stick to the corner of his mind. And it wasn’t because he was passionate.
  
  Oliver felt forced to master the painful, stressing instrument. Each time he messed up, or pressed the wrong note, a straining sense of loathing weighed his back like a boulder. Days spent sobbing and crying about how much of a failure the supposed “soothing” instrument made him feel. Oliver was never exposed to such frustration until now. Negative feelings weren’t something common in his life, but the moment he entered the world of instruments, recitals, and practices, everything went downhill.
  
  Especially once his younger brother began playing with him.
  
  Oliver felt insulted, disgust would spark inside of him. A sense of anger he’d never felt before, something beyond his comprehension. A sense he would forever run away from until it caught up to him.
  
  
  How dare Evan be better at piano than him?
  
  
  Stupid, stupid, stupid! He felt useless, stupid. Worthless and insignificant. Just because of this one passion he was meant to pursue and enjoy. The ‘passion’ of playing piano vexed him beyond belief. His breakdowns were more frequent, his fingers hesitated more at every note. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t play. Not knowing that there was someone he knew better than him.
  
  It was humiliating.
  
  
  Oliver stopped seeming like the soft, older brother as time went on, each practice and recital he grew resentful of his once-loved younger brother. It troubled the other. He wanted to understand him, he wanted to help him. Little did he know,
  
  
  Something festered inside of him, and he couldn’t stop it. Not for long.
  
  
  -
  
  
  They sat next to each other, the air was embarrassing and dense. He could almost asphyxiate with the anger that engulfed both of them. Something was wrong. He didn’t know.
  
  All this thinking made Edward anxious, his hands got slightly tremulous as he made his best attempt to focus on the significant instrument. They were practicing for one of their recitals. The pressure crushed him, he hated this as much as Oliver did, he was sure. Well…
  
  
  Oliver just happened to hate this more.
  
  
  Violent thoughts ran rampant in Oliver’s head as his brows furrowed, making a face Edward had never seen him make. That only made him more nervous, what was happening? Was he messing up? No, he wasn’t. Oliver wouldn’t hesitate to correct him if that were to happen. Even though the negative feelings currently overwhelmed his positive ones, he was happy that they’ve gotten so far in such a difficult song. Until—
  
  
  He felt his fingers stumble around each other, hitting the wrong note.
  
  
  His once bright eyes were filled with fearful apprehension towards Oliver. It wasn’t a big slip-up anyway, right? He was sure his older brother would understand and not get angry—
  
  
  Oliver let out an angered exhale.
  
  His eyes seemed to shut close,
  
  
  
  “God damn it, Edward!”
  
  
  
  His hands slammed hard against the instrument, causing a noise that made the other jerk backwards. He can’t remember the last time Oliver called him by his full first name, even less yelled at him with such force. He shifted away from his older brother, averting watery eyes.
  
  
  Oliver’s throat tightened as he hesitated with graver words. Deciding to not worsen the situation, he simply mumbled:
  
  
  “…You can do better than that.”
  
  
  Reassuring yet insulting, Oliver sighed. Edward nodded, slightly afraid. He’s never seen his brother act this way before. As they went back to the beginning, the younger of the two could only wonder;
  
  
  
  Why did they have to get into this mess?
  
  
  -
  
  
  Nothing about playing piano was good.
  
  
  He despised it with every fiber of his being. Be it because it was his father out of all people to force him to learn the taxing ‘hobby’, or because he had to share it with his now resented brother. Suddenly, spending time with Edward wasn’t enjoyable anymore. It angered him to even spend a second with him. He didn’t know why, he couldn’t comprehend what was wrong with him, but he didn’t want to ask. He didn’t want to know.
  
  He’d never felt angrier in his life. The piano seemed to be the instant switch for Cypress. Nobody knew about his burdened rage and hatred outside of Edward and… Connor.
  
  
  -
  
  
  
  Oliver slobbered and cried onto his own shaking hands as Müller pat his back, a crumbling attempt to comfort him. Cypress wiped his hands on his cheeks and eyes shamefully, letting out wet gasps of air.
  
  
  ”I don’t know what’s wrong with me—“ He admitted, tears increasing in quantity as his strained throat tried to form words. It hurt. Everything hurt. It was so overwhelming, the fact that he couldn’t stop this from happening, he hated it. He hated that his anger felt like it was his fault. Of course, it was! Oliver always let his emotions get the better of him, it… He was so stupid and hopeless.
  
  
  “I’ve never been- This isn’t-“ His tears interrupted his own talking. “I’m so sorry?– I don’t know? I don’t feel bad I just- I don’t know!” His confessions grew hysterical. “I’m not happy- But- But? But-“ His limps trembled unconsciously, as well as his pale hands.
  
  
  
  “I don’t know anymore! I hate it!”
  
  
  
  He let out one last yell before submitting to his sobs and wails, breaking down and crumbling on the spot. Connor could only worriedly watch, thinking of any way to comfort his best friend. He’s never seen him like this. He tried his hand at speaking to him;
  
  
  ”You’re angry.” His voice was never the most reassuring or comforting, but the softened and honeyed tone that Müller tried to add to it was one that always soothed and calmed Oliver.
  
  
  Connor felt a warm smile form on his face, ”…I get you.”
  
  
  “It’s completely normal. Just… Let it out.” He backtracked on his words. Müller didn’t know how to comfort either. The fact made him a bit embarrassed.
  
  He finally felt like he could talk with Oliver. Most of the topics the blond rambled about were nowhere near Müller’s own interests, but he learned to love and appreciate what Oliver did nonetheless. The topic at hand, though, was something in his complete mastery. Negative feelings, anger, family. Müller perfectly understood. While he was in no way happy that Oliver felt like this, he felt relieved that he could finally port something to their conversations.
  
  
  Oliver, on the other hand, would feel bile rise up his throat.
  
  
  
  Connor had never seen Cypress vomit.
  
  
  His expression turned into one of further confusion and worry, a sour curving of the brows and widening of the eyes- Müller had experienced throwing up from feeling alone, more than he’d like to admit, but those feelings were more deep-rooted and revolting than Oliver. As far as he knew, Cypress was just… Just angry. He himself had never vomited from just anger before. There was something else.
  
  
  
  
  Something deeper, something worse than both of their minds could grasp.
  
  
  A catalyst to their mentals, something criminally disgusting.
  
  
  
  
  He brushed off his paranoid thoughts as he shifted further away from Oliver, letting him vomit in ‘peace’. Whatever peace you could have while having a violent breakdown, that is.
  
  Connor turned his head away in order to not observe Oliver vomiting further, no matter how used he’d gotten to it, it was still a disgusting sight.
  
  Cypress coughed in-between cries, getting as much hurl out of his mouth as he could. The taste was awful, just like the feelings that followed it, that caused it. The sudden-hitting, harsh realization that…
  
  
  ”Connor…“ His shaky voice cried out. Müller turned his head, face elevating in sweat and worry.
  
  
  “The…”
  
  
  
  ”The recital’s in a week.”
  
  
  Spoiler: The Recital.

  Recitals weren’t anything new in Cypress’ life, not since he began piano.
  
  His first month playing would introduce him to the idea of them. In concept, he liked them. It wasn’t a competition, more of a show of talent and dedication.
  
  But as time went on, and as he had to learn more and more difficult songs, the thought of a recital was soul-crushing. Especially the one that… He doesn’t want to remember. But it was… Or well, was going to be the most important recital in his life. He didn’t know why, that’s what he was told. And the fact that he was kept on quiet about why in God’s name was it so important only stressed him out more and more.
  
  At first, he was lucky, in a way. The only people he truly knew that watched the recital were his parents, he’d never seen someone like Connor attend one of his recitals, no matter how much he talked to him about them. He was grateful about that, though. He couldn’t imagine messing up a song in front of Connor!
  
  
  And he couldn’t imagine leading him into the disaster that he caused. All because of a stupid recital.
  
  
  (spoiler for next chapter: oliver goes absolutely sicko mode, i think you already know what’s going to happen, also uhhhhh drink water take a break stretch or sum clear ur head because this is gonna be bazoinga crazy loco and all in character third person oooooo)
  
  
  Spoiler: Hurt Me.

  Another soft miss of the note echoed through the house, making Edward flinch in distress.
  
  The instrument just wouldn’t listen to him, not even on the day he needed it the most.
  
  His parents were in the city, preparing for the evening. Leaving the house entirely to the siblings and authority entirely to Oliver.
  
  And so he had insisted he practiced all day to be at the top of his game, a strategy that, hours later, didn’t seem to bear fruit, the tension only growing as the piano slowly but surely slipped out of Edward’s control.
  
  He heard his brother groan right next to him, too, they just had to play a song together in their most stressful recital. Of course, it was way too early to get started practicing, the grandfather clock in the hall not even reading 4 PM yet, but Oliver argued he wanted both of them to be the best they could be at the instrument.
  
  “I’m just trying to make us perfect. I don’t want dad to be disappointed in us, and I don’t want him to be disappointed in just you, either!” He tried to justify forcing this unhealthy routine on his sibling with his yells. It was always about his stupid father.
  
  As thoughts wandered, he missed another note.
  
  ”For Christ‘s sake, Edward!” He shouted, “You know you’re better than that!“
  
  Oliver took a deep breath, trying to suppress another violent thought bubbling up in him.
  
  He projected every single thing his father had said, each shout and unsavory comment was simply him releasing his rage towards that cruel man into Edward.
  
  The younger of the two was tense and uncomfortable. He wanted to just get up and go. To have a break, from the piano, from his brother. Eventually, through the piano, he’d learn to hate him too. He didn’t want to try to understand or help him anymore. He felt like he didn’t deserve it after the stress he put him through.
  
  Edward was barely ten, and Oliver was barely twelve. This undoubtedly felt wrong.
  
  Inevitably, that little itch in his brain tried to justify Oliver’s words and actions: ‘He’s just as stressed as you are. Don’t take it personally, he doesn’t realize how unfair he’s being, he’s just trying to make dad like you more.’ That odd attempt at comforting himself worked. But his relief only lasted a second, as—
  
  Another mistake.
  
  
  “Focus, Edward! You’re just being unconcentrated!”
  
  Right, focus.
  
  He tried to focus.
  
  ‘The last time he told me to focus, it sounded a lot nicer.’ Edward grew resentful once more.
  
  Another mistake.
  
  “Do you really want to embarrass us all tonight?”
  
  Hold it together, Edward, hold it together.
  
  “Do you want to embarrass dad like that?”
  
  He took a shameful inhale, trying to keep his composure.
  
  ‘He’s just stressed, hold it together, hold it together, you can do this-‘
  
  “Do you want to embarrass me like that?”
  
  “Do you want to embarrass your friends li-“
  
  Edward had enough. He let his rational, and admittedly fearful, side take the backseat as he firmly stood up and out of the duet bench. Oliver would only stare at him, before:
  
  ”Hey. Where do you think you’re going?” He questioned, more demanding than ever.
  
  “I’m taking a break!” Edward could only shout back, feeling his throat tighten with what could only be the instinct to hold back tears. “I’m tired of this, Oliver!”
  
  Regret and guilt were itching ever so subtly at the back of Oliver’s mind, but right now there was anger, so, so much anger, at the instrument, at his brother, at the world. Oliver wanted to yell, scream like a caveman, let out the anger that had built up in him ever since he first missed the Saturday morning cartoon for a stupid piano session and was now finally bursting free, but, overwhelmed by emotion, he couldn’t, simply staring at his brother with a sensation that could only be described as a perfect concoction of anger, guilt, and disbelief, all at once.
  
  Edward heard his brother scuffle out of the stool, just as he began to walk away. He felt like he should run.
  
  “We’re practicing, Edward!” He commanded.
  
  “No! No! No, we aren’t!” Edward fought back, stopping his walking and turning to look at Oliver right at the edge of the start of the house‘s long set of stairs. His feet and legs shook, realizing the position he was in, but unable to move. Frozen from all of his emotions, looking at Oliver just like a rabbit looks at a cat.
  
  
  Oliver’s pale face was already tearful, crying from anger.
  
  
  “What do I tell dad, Edward!? That you had a temper tantrum because you couldn’t get the song right? That’ll be sure to make him proud!”
  
  
  Edward’s shameful silence only fuelled the fire at this point. Oliver wanted him to speak up, for years he’d been at least slightly better at the piano than him, why the fuck was he so scared and ignoble now?
  
  Oliver was shaking with anger now, and as he finally halted his yelling, he assessed his current position, right in front of Edward.
  
  
  He’s standing at the edge.
  
  “O-Oliver? What’s going on? Why are you like this all of the sudden?”
  
  I could just push him.
  
  “I only want to— Oh geez, you’re crying, I-”
  
  He pushed him.
  
  
  When Edward first hurt his knee playing soccer, he was so upset.
  
  Oliver had only rarely seen him cry before, like when he cut herself making papercrafts, but for the first week after his injury, Edward was sad, sadder than he had ever seen him before.
  
  He learned that for Edward, soccer was a way to relieve stress, a hobby where he could afford to be just good, never perfect. He learned that he could play it with his friends for hours, not even once getting frustrated because it was something he hadn’t learned from his parents, a hobby that was truly his own.
  
  With Oliver’s help, Edward would eventually get over the sadness that came with his injury, and if you didn’t know the story, you wouldn’t even notice or question his ever-so-slight limp, even if it was never truly gone.
  
  
  Of course, his bad knee wasn’t really the reason he fell as hard as he did.
  
  
  Oliver had pushed him with full intent, intent to seriously injure or even kill him like he had killed his enjoyment of life for countless afternoons.
  
  His anger and violent thoughts were so concentrated, so potent that not even the voice in the back of his head telling him to stop and think rationally could hinder the motion as two pale, bruised palms grabbed Edward by the shoulders and just threw him away, threw him down the stairs.
  
  As his knees gave out and his body plummeted into the abyss, eyes wide and full of nothing but concern for his older brother, his head first hit the railing, then the hardwood floor.
  
  
  There he stood now, at the top of the staircase, looking at the mangled figure beneath him, surrounded by perfect silence as but a single thought resounded in his head.
  
  Was it really this easy?
  
  He couldn’t feel any regret for what he had done, not at the moment, as a weird sensation took over him.
  
  My instinct was right.
  
  I’m free now, aren’t I?
  
  
  Oliver didn’t feel like he was finished, not as he noticed ever-so-slight movement from his seemingly unconscious brother. It wouldn’t be freedom if he wasn’t here. Completely.
  
  He rushed down the bloody stairs, nothing was telling him to stop.
  
  Edward was concussed, right? He was sure he wouldn’t feel a thing.
  
  Cypress eyeballed his catastrophes. He felt satisfied, but the job wasn’t finished. Not yet.
  
  He avoided the soon-to-be corpse to make his way out of the stairs. A grin of fulfillment arose to his cheeks.
  
  Almost instantly, he kicked Edward in the stomach. Taking out whatever air was left in him, then again, and again, and again. He’d never felt more powerful in his life. This was amazing. No longer did he care about how morally wrong this was, how he was murdering his younger brother. He was free.
  
  Eventually, after a few good rounds of kicking and kicking, he dropped to his knees, panting.
  
  And began to punch Edward in the face.
  
  He was enacting and finally achieving every single ‘intrusive thought’ that plagued his mind. Quenching his thirst by beating his brother dead.
  
  A few good minutes of beating flew by like seconds, his knuckles ached and were painted a saccharine red. His legs were sore from kicking and kicking. He made sure Edward was dead.
  
  
  Then, as he processed the situation, panic.
  
  
  He wasn’t really free now, not at all.
  
  
  He had undoubtedly just killed his younger brother, if anyone saw this, he’d be done for, put away, never to see the light of day again. This was it for him, wasn’t it, the end of the road, his brother would take him down with him and there was none, not a single way he could ever get out of this, right?
  
  Oliver stood up, legs beginning to shake.
  
  But then, looking behind him and past the sorrowful and mangled remnants of what had been his brother mere moments ago, he saw another face, full of shock and concern, looking at the mess Oliver had made with wide, azure eyes as a book slipped out of his hand and fell on the hardwood floor, making a damp noise on impact.
  
  
  
  
  ”O-Oliver?…”
  
  
  Spoiler: Help Me.

  Oliver stared straight back into his best friend’s fearful eyes.
  
  “I… Wh-what happened?”
  
  Cypress’ face lit up ever so subtly as he saw an opportunity.
  
  This is my chance! Connor will understand and help me like he always does, right?
  
  Oliver quickly made his way to Müller, watching in what could be described as amusement as Connor eyed the fractured, beaten body in front of him. Are you proud of me?
  
  The blond grabbed Connor by the shoulders, nearly staining his shirt with Edward’s blood. He looked at Müller’s expression. He was terrified. While not any stranger to violence, this was unlike anything he’d ever seen. Both of them were 12, how else were they supposed to react to death?
  
  
  ”Connor.” Oliver spoke out, firmer than ever.
  
  “Y-Yeah?”
  
  
  “Save me.”
  
  
  His voice had never been so stable, so clear before, and Oliver found himself wondering just how he was able to sound so confident, so convincing, having just murdered his own brother.
  
  Does acting out on these thoughts make me stronger?
  
  “S-save you?… What the f— You mean… Oh.”
  
  Connor, of course, understood what his best friend meant, and averted his eyes from Oliver’s pale blue pupils as if in thought.
  
  Connor is smart. Connor will know what to do.
  
  He didn’t even once stop to consider whether his friend would even want to cover this up, but as Müller snapped out of thought and made eye contact with Cypress again, the blond knew that his best friend was on his side without even questioning or thinking about what had just happened.
  
  “I.. have an idea. B… But it’s… messed up..?” His voice was laced with fear and uncertainty. Oliver was surprised that there weren’t any tears flowing down his pretty cheeks like him, but he seemed like he wanted to help his best friend out.
  
  “What do we do, Connor?”
  
  Oliver found himself almost sounding excited at the prospect of covering this whole situation up.
  
  What kind of monster are you? He wondered, but as quickly as that thought emerged, he shoved it down again. Edward got what was coming to him, and now Oliver was going to escape the consequences of his fall because he didn’t deserve the repercussions. Edward is to blame for this.
  
  
  “Help me carry him, Oliver… to the backyard.”
  
  
  Cypress nodded, interested to see where this would go. Connor was smart, and they had read so many detective stories before that surely he picked up something that would get him off scot-free. Oliver grabbed his brother by his limp legs, only to realize one of them had snapped, contorting in an impossible angle. Müller looked away from the sight but Oliver just kept staring, fascinated by the harm he had caused.
  
  As Oliver lifted his legs, Müller could see his head hang down - Neck likely snapped, too - and they slowly made their way to the living room, trying not to accidentally let go of the corpse. They were leaving a trail of blood - a bone must’ve pierced his skin somewhere, not to mention the beating Oliver had placed on him, but it didn’t reach the carpet, so Oliver just assumed they could clean it up later.
  
  He let go of one leg to open the sliding door leading to the family’s backyard, and a cold gust of wind hit him in the face. Chilly.
  
  Luckily, the yard was surrounded by a dense forest, so there was no risk of them being seen, not unless some kid was playing in the forest as would happen sometimes. That didn’t seem to be the case today though, as the weather didn’t warrant the whole town being outdoors like it would be in the summer.
  
  They set the mess of red and white down.
  
  He was right at the foot of Oliver's favorite tree.
  
  Oliver didn’t know exactly why he always preferred this tree, he just found a special liking in its branch structure, the way its leaves swayed in the wind, the way the sunlight would shine through its crown, fragmenting into a million different rays before it hit the ground, making for a great place to just lie down and enjoy the nature around you without a worry in the world.
  
  Now, it was Edward's corpse taking up that spot.
  
  
  
  “So...” Connor spoke up, voice still choking on insecurity, “If we tie him to a branch... we can make it look like he did it.. to himself.”
  
  Oliver nodded. Fucking genius.
  
  Over the next 10 minutes, Connor stepped onto a nearby toy box and tied a noose out of a jump rope that was lying nearby - A skill he had learned from Oliver years prior as he taught him how to hang flower pots -, and, with their combined strength, they managed to heave the mess of clothes, flesh and crimson liquid that used to be Edward up and into the loop, watching as it tightened around his neck in a motion that would’ve suffocated him had he not already been dead.
  
  Stepping back, Oliver thought they did a pretty good job. Connor looked more terrified than anything, but Cypress was sure he’d understand him once he explained the situation to him, explained why Edward had to go.
  
  But there was still an itch, something in the back of his mind telling him that this was all wrong, and as he looked at the pale green leaves swaying in the wind above the corpse, carried by a moderately strong gust of wind, guilt slowly started poisoning Oliver's perfectly content mind.
  
  How will you ever live this down, Oliver?
  
  But before it had a chance to spread and bear fruit, he felt a hand holding his.
  
  
  “Everything is going to be okay now. T...they won’t take you away for this.”
  
  
  The guilt slipped back into a tiny pocket of his mind as he found himself comforted by his best friend’s words, and, for the first time since they hung the body, Oliver looked his best friend in the face.
  
  He looked… tired, and distressed, and uncertainty was still glazing his eyes, but his lips were formed into a small, forced smile as if he was trying to comfort his best friend.
  
  And Cypress squeezed his hand, for he felt perfectly content with what had just gone down, and he was thankful that Connor got him out of it.
  
  
  “Let’s.. clean up now.”
  
  
  Before they stepped back into the residence, Connor stole a last look at their work, and Oliver noticed his eyes widening in shock as he just stared, staring at the sight behind them.
  
  Following his gaze, he was met with an open eye.
  
  Oliver didn’t find it particularly shocking, though, the sight merely fascinated him as he kept contact with the pale blue eye staring right through him. The dead eye had an otherworldly feel to it, and the way it looked straight at him but nowhere at all at the same time captivated Cypress as he just kept staring.
  
  “Don’t look, Oliver.”
  
  He felt Connor pull his hand, and before Oliver could escape his trance, he was back inside and the door was shut.
  
  
  
  The next half hour, Oliver and Connor scrubbed the blood off the living room and hallway floors, leaving the wood flooring clean off of the saccharine substance and having every object with blood thrown away.
  
  Connor finished it off by throwing in some book that had gotten a stain of blood on it, a pensive look on his face.
  
  Right. Müller brought that, didn’t he?
  
  His friend locked the chest and pocketed the key, muttering something along the lines of “I’ll be right back.” before hastily leaving Oliver standing in the dark, moody closet.
  
  
  
  Standing there, alone, something slowly started clawing at his mind again, making him nauseous and prompting him to sit down on the cold, dusty floor as a sharp pain made its way through his head like a knife.
  
  You just killed your own brother.
  
  Your own, loving brother, who was just trying to make your parents proud.
  
  What kind of brother are you?
  
  He took a deep breath. It didn’t work.
  
  How can you live with yourself?
  
  Can you even live with yourself?
  
  Can Connor live with what just happened?
  
  Oliver closed his eyes shut and, almost instantly, drifted off into a crevice in his mind, a crimson-red space. Indistinguishable shapes were scrolling in the distance, and hands, blood-stained, tainted, mangled hands obscured his vision, slowly moving as if floating in empty space.
  
  How could you do that?
  
  The voice was stronger now, closer to Oliver, like it was whispering in his ear as Cypress just kneed there, trying to take in what was happening. He could hear a screeching noise piercing his ears and head as his fear grew more and more.
  
  How can you just pretend that everything’s going to be okay just because you let your friend cover for you?
  
  He looked around the place, fixating on a floating mirror.
  
  You’re a monster, an irredeemable, ruthless monster.
  
  In the mirror, he saw a version of himself with black eyes, red pupils, and skin rotting off his face more and more the longer he looked at it, endless amounts of blood dripping from his hands.
  
  Look at you.
  
  Is this who you wanted to be?
  
  As he stared intently into the monster’s eyes, the mirror shattered, revealing a throne of red hands behind it, an obscure sight, yet Oliver felt strangely drawn to it. He made a step towards it, resisting the force that was keeping his body down as he tried to find his earlier confidence again.
  
  I wanted to kill him, and it worked, I’m free now.
  
  Oliver noticed bruises on the throne. Those were his hands, the very hands that played the piano and pushed his brother.
  
  How free can you really be with such a burden on your shoulders?
  
  Cypress shook his head, taking another step toward the obscure object in front of him. He wasn’t going to let fear and weakness take a hold of him.
  
  Edward wasn’t being fair, he pushed me too far and I’m glad he’s gone.
  
  Another step. He was almost there.
  
  But do you really think that?
  
  Yes, I do.
  
  Oliver finally reached the throne, and as he sat down on its oddly warm surface, he was transported back to reality, to a cold, damp closet, and to his best friend shaking his shoulders. As Cypress’ sight found focus once more, he found himself staring at a broken lightbulb hanging in the top corner of the room as if in trance.
  
  “Oliver? You were breathing too much, I-I…”
  
  He looked his best friend in the eyes, and as he lost himself inside their blue, his mind was at ease once more, the horrible noise and the voice in his head vanishing again as he felt his best friend comforting him.
  
  Connor looked used and tired, but he was still here, here to save Oliver no matter what, because he knew him as no one else did.
  
  So what if I’m a monster? Connor understands me, and he always will.
  
  
  “We should go. It’ll make more sense if you’re not home when he’s.. when he’s found.”
  
  
  
  Oliver nodded his head in agreement, and, holding each other’s hands in a comforting manner, the pair left the scene, unaware that just a single blood-stained sheet of music had slipped under the door to the piano room, carried by the wind, now resting under Edward’s piano stool, ready to be discovered by some unsuspecting bypasser.
  
  
  Spoiler: Kiss Me.

  Nobody knew what happened between them, and no one had to.
  
  This was their childhood secret to keep, their book of memories locked in a box.
  
  Connor didn't know the beast he'd fed, and it was better if it stays that way. Forever. He didn't need to have his regret extend further than just having hung Edward to help Oliver. He didn't need to know that nothing was an accident. Cypress was going to keep him in the quiet about everything, in his untrustworthy eyes, he was protecting Müller from the dreadful truth that was his actions.
  
  He finally felt fulfilled, and worthy. Connor understood him. He accepted him for the murder he'd committed. And fully help him with it. With barely any hesitation.
  
  Just so they wouldn't take him away,
  
  
  Just so they'll never be apart.
  
  
  Never! Never! An unbreakable pact forged by blood and suffering, by the lost life of someone who, truly, didn't deserve it. This was special. Special to Oliver, and it should be to Connor. If something, if someone, else were to get in the way of either of their lives, he knew that Müller would have his back, and he had his. Whatever they did, be it disgusting or not, they would get off scot-free. Because they had each other!
  
  Because in Oliver's eyes,
  
  
  This was an act of love.
  
  
  Why else would they have spent so many years together? Why else would Connor help him cover Edward's murder up? It had to be something else. If they were 'friends' Oliver would've been somewhere worse, somewhere without the warmth and safety of someone as strong and dependent as Connor.
  
  As time went on, Müller seemed to forget their little act together. All of the pain they had caused 'for the name of love'. It didn't matter. Because he'd still cherish that memory no matter what. As long as he himself still had something to cling to, he didn't care.
  
  Oliver would unconsciously stick onto and feed off of Müller like a pathetic and disgusting parasite. One that only sook reassurance for its actions.
  
  He couldn’t spend any time without Müller. He was the man that helped him break free, completely without consequence, why should they be apart? Connor cared so much for him like no one ever did. He’d listen to him, unlike everyone. He trusted and accepted him for the disgusting beast that he is. He loved him.
  
  
  
  Cypress was a killer by nature, and a gardener by nurture.
  
  
  
  Gardening is the act of keeping things alive, allowing them to blossom through weeks and months of care, helping them live so you may bask in their beauty.
  
  Oliver had never allowed a flower to wilt, for over the years, he had actually found some comfort in the plants he‘d find and grow, in the white tulips, the cacti, the gladioli.
  
  Because even when he drove everyone away, his plants would still stay for him, dependent on him and him alone to live and prosper.
  
  It felt nice to have something, someone that needed your attention and your care unconditionally, and would only die if you decided to abandon it.
  
  And so, though gardening the flowers resemblant of better days hurt him deeply at times, Cypress never did abandon his plants.
  
  They still lived, because of him.
  
  Oliver gave and prolonged so many lives in the form of gardening, rarely letting one go.
  
  
  Edward was a mere pest, an unneeded insect picking away at a beautiful flower. Something that nobody truly cares about. A meaningless two-spotted spider mite that only harmed them.
  
  
  He needed to die, and his blood would water Oliver and Connor, keep them alive, allow them to blossom.
  
  
  Alone. Together. If anyone were to interrupt their path, they would go too. Only being more supplement to the venomous and growing plant that was both of them.
  
  
  Oliver hoped there was a way they could continue their murder spree, stick together, and let the glue that would never allow them to separate be the blood of any other pest that harmed them. Müller never seemed to regret it that much, and Cypress was sure as content with the death of his younger brother.
  
  If he believed that if he gave Connor a reason, he will kill for him. Or at least, help him cover up any of his own murders.
  
  
  But everything seemed so hazy, so incomprehensible and impossible once their act of love was seen through further.
  
  
  
  —
  
  
  
  Oliver was an opossum playing dead, doing his part as the sad, bigger brother. Disgust boiled inside of him, he was tired of acting like he was sad about his younger brother’s death. He didn’t know for how long he could keep this act up. Especially if it meant days like this, pretending he was alone and miserable, laying on his bed as if he was lamenting the loss he’d cause. But, obviously, there was nothing to be sad about for him.
  
  A faint ring in the back of his mind accompanied that thought, but Oliver successfully ignored it. No regrets.
  
  
  
  A second, more aggressive series of knocks snapped him out of thought, this time followed by the aggressive voice of his father.
  
  
  “Oliver!? I know you’re awake, we need to talk.”
  
  
  His mother’s was quick to follow, and though Cypress couldn’t quite make her words out, it sounded like she was trying to calm her husband down.
  
  
  Oliver sighed. Whatever could he be mad for this time?
  
  
  As the door slowly opened, creaking in the process, surprisingly, it was his mom coming in first, a plate in her hand and her husband close behind her.
  
  “H-hey, Levi!” her voice was wavering, looking at her only son, and, as of recent, only child.
  
  “I-I made you pasta, your favorite!” That sure is pasta. She put it down beside his bed, fork, and knife included.
  
  
  “...I hope you’re feeling better.”
  
  
  Then, his dad burst in, and, to Cypress’ horror, a bloodied sheet of music in his other.
  
  Cypress gulped, looking into his father’s furious eyes.
  
  “Don’t you fucking ‘Levi’ him, Susan! I know he did something!”
  
  
  Oh, he was mad alright. Even his wife looked a little scared, tears already welling up in her ocean-blue eyes. The tall man presented Oliver with the sheet of paper like some kind of ticket, waving it in front of his eyes.
  
  
  “You know anything about this, boy? ‘Cause I found it laying on the floor.”
  
  His mind was spiraling, panicking, and he honestly wanted to faint a second time, but he needed to defend himself, and get him and Connor out of this.
  
  
  How could we miss a sheet? How did the sheet even get blood on it? When? Where?
  
  
  “And you know what else, Oliver? I looked at your brother’s autopsy reports, and there were bruises, open wounds all over him, so can you please just open your damn mouth and tell us what the fuck you did?” The man looked like he would’ve beaten Cypress up on the spot if his wife wasn’t positioned between the two.
  
  
  Oliver wanted to answer, come up with some witty excuse to get him out of the situation, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t the smart one, Connor was.
  
  
  His own brain couldn’t form a single thought, his heart was racing, a lump blocking his throat, he was panicking, panicking because Connor’s plan, their perfect lie that stripped them of all accountability was falling apart, ripping at the seams.
  
  
  Did you really think you were going to get away with this? You’re going to be faced with the consequences of your actions no matter what.
  
  
  Cypress clenched his eyes shut, shoving the voice back down.
  
  He couldn’t afford emotion, scratch that, he couldn’t afford truth right now, already struggling hard trying to deal with his fear.
  
  
  If they find out what exactly happened, Connor and I are done for.
  
  
  Not receiving a response, his father groaned loudly in frustration. Oliver couldn’t read his mother’s face, but she was wiping tears off her cheek as her son didn’t respond, didn’t defend himself.
  
  Taking his son’s silence as confirmation, the man clutched his head, growing redder by the second as if he was about to burst.
  
  
  And burst he did.
  
  
  “I knew it! You little shit, you were always jealous of him! So you took him from us, right before he was gonna outperform you, because you just can’t handle your inferiority!”
  
  The man was yelling through tears now, finally breaking. His youngest son, his dear Edward was gone, dead, and his son was more than likely to blame.
  
  “I…” His voice got stuck in his throat as his anger welled down.
  
  “You’re not my son any longer. You never were. You’re sick. Edward was… he was an angel, and you’ve been nothing but trouble since the day you were born.” He sniffled, turning toward the door.
  
  “Y-you’ve ruined your own family. Are you proud of that, demon?”
  
  He twisted the knob, and Sunny felt like a knife was being twisted in his gut simultaneously, knowing he couldn’t get out of this, not anymore. He had missed his chance.
  
  “Come on, Susan. Leave that freak to himself”, he said, walking out into the hall.
  
  But his wife didn’t follow him, not before trying to talk to her son.
  
  She clutched his shoulders, looking him desperately in the eyes, which were actively avoiding her glance.
  
  ”Levi, dear, please… tell me you didn’t do anything, tell me this is all a big misunderstanding…”
  
  She paused, her eyes widening as if she just remembered something, and a single, large tear escaped her eyes, hitting Oliver’s bedsheets.
  
  Cypress couldn’t answer, staring right through his mother as he slipped into a small, white crevice in his mind, unable to take the situation around him any longer.
  
  His mother sobbed, unable to get through to her son, unable to get a sensible explanation out of him that could maybe mend her tattered family after all.
  
  “Oliver…” she cried, voice getting caught up in her throat.
  
  “...I don’t know what you did, Oliver…” Cypress didn’t listen, actively trying to ignore the words being said to him, shoving them deep down as soon as they entered his mind as he just sat there, staring past her face as white crept into his vision again, slowly obscuring the edges of the scene around him.
  
  
  “...but Edward was my youngest son, and now you’re my only child.”
  
  
  Ignore it. Ignore it. Ignore it.
  
  His ears were ringing as bile rose up his throat. Oliver felt nauseous, the weight of the situation he had tried to repress finally hitting, piercing, and shattering him, clawing its way through his heart.
  
  
  “I… can’t lose you as well.”
  
  
  He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. He wanted to cry, but he couldn’t. He stared intently into the white space before him, trying to somehow ease his mind, but he couldn’t, he was lost, unable to take it, unable to process what was going through his head.
  
  
  
  The noise of a door being closed snapped him out of his trance.
  
  He was feeling ill, the world around him spinning as he tried to find his focus again.
  
  
  —
  
  
  It was ironic how the both of them remained without consequence, despite all signs pointing to at least Oliver being faulty, and even if he was caught, even if he was taken away, he’ll never tell on Connor. He’ll never let anyone give him the punishment he deserved for helping him. Because Connor was gullible and vulnerable towards his lies. Because he believed that everything was right, that Oliver just slipped up and killed his brother.
  
  He didn’t need anyone or anything else other than Connor. As long as he was with the only one who truly adored him enough to disguise his catastrophes he was going to be ok. As long as there was a way he could get that rush of adrenaline and satisfaction and have Müller cover it up he was going to be ok.
  
  
  Because he loved him.
  
  WORK IN PROGRESS
  
  Likes and Dislikes: ✓-Pasta. — ✓-Bugs. — ✓-Playing Piano. — ✓-Candy Worms. — ✓-The smell of tobacco.
  ✓-Honey. — ✓-Poptarts. — ✓-Medieval Stories. — ✓-Rainy Days. — ✓-Atmospheric Music. — ✓-Coffee.
  ✓-Sweet Foods. — ✓-Chinese New Years. — ✓-Alligators, reptiles in general. — ✓-Dinosaurs. — ✓-…Volleyball.
  
  …
  
  ⓧ-History — ⓧ-Excessive Jewelry. — ⓧ-The smell of Fertilizer. — ⓧ-Chemical Smells. — ⓧ-Soda.
  ⓧ-Tangled headphone wires. — ⓧ-Jelly. — ⓧ-Religion. — ⓧ-Crowds. — ⓧ-Electronic Music.
  ⓧ-Thin halls. — ⓧ-Spiky Branches. — ⓧ-People with pollen allergies. — ⓧ-School trips.
  
  
  Positive Traits: Cypress is an amazing friend, first off. He always knows what to say, listens, and tries to be there 24/7. He gives great advice, and won’t hesitate to take care of you. Although some might say that he’s opening himself too much, Oliver just likes having people around at all times. Especially if it’s his buddies!
  
  It’s really hard for Levi to see the negatives in things, he always sees the glass half full. He tries to see the benefit in bad situations and outcomes. Everything happens for a reason, right? There’s no problem that doesn’t have a solution! One day, everything’s going to be ok. It’s going to get better.
  
  He’s amazing at planning, there hasn’t been a game where Oliver hasn’t contributed more than most in how they should play. He‘s the brain of the team, a little bit. Everyone is very smart on their own.
  
  Negative Traits: He tends to make false promises. Not that he’s a kind of pathological liar, but he always found it hard to keep up with the expectations he makes of himself. For some reason, he always feels extreme pressure when it comes to promises. Well, you can’t blame him on that either. But then… Why does he keep making them?
  
  Oliver gets easily influenced by other people, while he isn’t one to follow the herd, he adapts some habits, views, and mannerisms from the people he hangs out with, which isn’t uncommon, but he has a lot of bias when it comes to his friends.
  
  Cypress gets tired easily. Tired of practicing, playing, and people. And while he does push himself at times to be better, he always feels awful emotionally afterward. He doesn’t know why, it just hits him. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t play good because he leaves or gives up once he gets tired, just that he doesn’t stay for practice as long as others. That makes him feel a little bad too.
  
  
  Texts really… Really weird. Dork. Dork-ish weird. Nerd. He’s a nerd. A little nerd boy.
  
  
  Position: Libero.
  
  What school they attend: Fuhai.
  
  Appearance/General Style: Outside of his pretty, blonde hair, you’re most likely to notice the fact that Oliver always smells like flowers or just earth in general. He always has that natural smell to him. It's pretty enjoyable, better than smelling like nothing.
  
  His hands are always decked with band-aids. Gardening isn’t harmless. Sometimes, he goes out with his gardening gloves without noticing. You can’t blame him, the time he isn’t spending practicing or in school, he spends taking care of his plants. And occasionally other people.
  
  He tends to wear a lot of sweaters, mainly green ones. It doesn’t matter what time of the year is it, but you’re bound to see him dressed for winter. He usually sports long-sleeve shirts, or either has one below the shirt he’s wearing. Makes you wonder what he’s covering up.
  
  Occasionally, he places little flowers on his hair.
  
  While he regularly doesn’t wear flower crowns out in public, some people have seen him with one.
  
  Height: 5’7.
  
  Weight: 129lbs.
  
  Extra: -Favorite food is apple pie. — -Scared of space and how meaningless he actually is.
  -Gardens and bakes in his free time, really good at it. — -Sleeps in class often. Never gets away with it.
  -Makes killer blueberry tea. — -Burning hatred for dance class, loves P.E. — -Loves listening about people's interests. — -Has a pet beetle! Her name is Godzilla. — -Has freckles around his cheeks and in some places of his body, mainly his thighs and shoulders.
  
  
  -Room doubles as a small garden. Outside of that, he actually has a garden in his backyard.
  
  
  -When he was a sophomore, there was a rumor going around of him growing weed in said backyard garden. He doesn’t grow weed in said backyard garden. Please stop saying he does.
  
  
  
  “That doesn’t mean you should do it, dummy! I’m worried about you!”
  
• 
  
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  bugsd0ntbxgme

  party help

  dude……. you were right. everyone at the party is making out. help.
  
  
  
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  Re: party help

  Dude!!! I told you!! (● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾ You never take my advice… ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡ Why’d you even go?, you don’t like parties!
  (-᷅_-᷄๑)
  
  ~Levi
  
  
  
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  Re: Re: party help

  remember that super cool guy from history period or whatever
  
  yeah i thought they were going to be here but NOOOOO
  
  i have no one to really talk to + everyones still making out + the music is trash + THEYRE OUT OF HAWAIIAN PUNCH
  
  
  
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  Re: Re: Re: party help

  …No way you’re trying to make friends… WITHOUT ME!(´༎ຶོρ༎ຶོ`) The betrayal is real.
  
  Just kidding! (^з^)-☆
  
  I’m sorry but…. I have no idea how to help you on this one!!!(*⁰▿⁰*) My doors are always open, though!!! You can always come over when the making out is too much! ( T_T)＼(^-^ )
  
  
  I have chocolate fudge poptarts….. ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡
  
  ~Levi
  
  
  
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  Re: Re: Re: Re: party help

  uh…… yes please?!
  
  take me to your holy land of chocolate fudge poptarts levi…… i need some fresh chocolatey air after this…
  
  just dont put on your weird series this time, im still shaken up about that guy that turns into a chainsaw. where did you even find that one????
  
  
  
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  Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: party help

  You’re safe from makeouts in my poptart haven!~ (=´∀｀)人(´∀｀=) My room is a 100% makeout-free area!
  ♪( ´θ｀)
  
  What do you mean you didn’t like that one?! (´；ω；`) I put it on because I thought you’d like it……… Break my heart, much???。・゜・(ノД`)・゜・。
  
  I mean, we could always practice volleyball!!!(≧∇≦) We have a game tomorrow, right?(p_-)
  
  ~Levi
  
  
  
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  Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: party help

  its kinda cool but it got so weird after the second episode yeah
  
  uhhhh sure volleyballs fine
  im just kinda tired right now ngl
  
  got tf out of that party for some fresh air
  think you can pick me up?
  
  
  
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  Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: party help

  Let’s just watch movies then! No pressure!~ (о´∀`о) If you’re up for staying late today, that is. It’s long movie Saturday!!!!! ･:*+.\(( °ω° ))/.:+
  
  You know I have no mercy on Long Movie Saturday. ψ(｀∇´)ψ Whoever falls asleep first loses!
  
  I’ll see what I can do to pick you up! I think my mom likes you enough to drive all the way to the party to SAVE YOUUUU!!!＼＼\\٩( 'ω' )و //／／
  
  And, we might be able to stop at your favorite hamburger place! (*≧∀≦*) Are you hungry? (p_-) They better not have served anything in that party…
  
  ~Levi
  
  
  
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  Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: party help

  oh damn it i forgot it was long movie saturday….
  
  yeah hamburgers are good
  they did have stuff in here but i didnt want to risk dying of food poisoning
  
  honestly today i just need to hang at your place
  better than my stupid house and this stupid party
  
  thanks
  
  
  
  
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  Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: party hel…. (Click to see full title)

  Oh… Better safe than sorry with the food!(ㆀ˘･з･˘) Wouldn’t like you getting food poisoned. Especially if you’re staying at my place! You know... The puke….. ε=ε=ε=ε=ε=ε=┌(;￣◇￣)┘Bleugh!
  
  Awww man. Hope things get better for you!!! I wish I knew how to help you more…( T_T)＼(^-^ ) I’m always here if you need a listener. You can count on me!~ (=^ェ^=)
  
  Alright, I’ll get onto my mission to rescue you!!! Worry not, Connor! Help is on it’s way!!!!!!
  ＼＼\٩(๑`^´๑)۶//／／
  
  ~Levi
  
  
  
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  Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: party h…..(Click to see full title)

  yeah thanks
  
  
  
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  Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: party .….(Click to see full title)

  youre such a dork btw
  
  
  
• 
  Connor stood with Oliver in his small garden. He always wondered how Cypress managed to take care of so many plants, and all at the same time. He couldn’t take care of one if he tried. Not sure how you expect him to do so if he can’t even care properly for himself…
  
  He gave passing glances to Cypress. It’s weird. Why are they standing there, just like that? They weren’t doing anything, just looking at all of the flowers that Oliver loves to grow. Müller found it hard to appreciate scenery like this, but he tried his best. Oliver’s garden was full of tulips, lilies, roses, and cactuses. But one flower always caught his attention.
  
  The plant itself was long, with a lot of pretty flowers on it. That’s how Connor’s brain would describe it. He wasn’t good with creativity, at least, not today. Something that always stood out about this plant was its colors. Oliver had planted a lot of them, and all of them seemed drastically different from one another, color-wise. One was a bright red, others a soft pink, some a warm orange. He wondered if the colors depended on something. The time they were planted? The climate? The place? If only he was more plant-wise to know about this…
  
  
  
  
  Oliver broke his silence, “You know, you’ve always reminded me of Gladioli.”
  
  
  
  
  ”Of… what?…”
  
  
  
  
  Oliver chuckled, “Gladiolus? The plant?” He asked. Connor shook his head, he didn’t know the word. He should probably pay more attention when he talks to him about all of his flowers…
  
  
  Connor snickered in response. “No idea what you’re talking about.”
  
  
  Oliver childishly frowned, softly pointing to the same flowers Connor was thinking about. He was pleasantly surprised. Those were his favorite flowers out of the bunch. Maybe because they were drastically different from all of the other plants, or because they stood tall and pretty. The only thing he knew was that they weren’t as comfortable and safe as tulips, nor hopeful as lilies, neither universally loved as roses.
  
  
  Connor never heard Cypress’ explanation on these, until now.
  
  
  Oliver affectionately smiled, eyes on the planted batch of gladioli. “Alright. So,” He began to explain.
  
  
  “These are a type of plant called gladiolus. Some know them as the ‘sword flower’.”
  
  “As you might guess, they represent strength of character. Someone honest, with- with strong moral values... Someone who stands by their convictions...”
  
  
  Connor began to wonder how they reminded Cypress of him. Is… Is that really how he saw him? Müller was flattered, yet curious.
  
  
  
  
  ”I guess, in a way, they remind me of you. You’re always true to yourself.”
  
  
  
  
  Connor simply looked at the flowers, a bit in disbelief. Connor wasn’t true to himself. He wasn’t someone strong or with moral values. He barely stood by his convictions. But…
  
  
  
  If Cypress saw him like that, then he’ll believe it.
  
  
  
  He’ll believe everything, just this afternoon. He’ll believe that he’s strong, moral, and honest. Because Oliver believes in him when no one else seems to. His words made his chest burn in the best way possible. It’s a feeling he didn’t know, and couldn’t explain. Connor looked back at Oliver,
  
  
  
  ”Thanks.”
  
  
  
  Connor was at fault for not being able to express much. Even less if it’s positive. Oliver has grown to learn that, thankfully. And he knew that Müller felt more than a simple, monotone ‘Thanks.’ Cypress was always grateful, or at least happy, whenever Connor mustered the strength to give any affection back. Both of them have been through… Their difficulties. And things have gotten complicated here and there. But they stuck together. And Oliver always saw Connor as strong for that.
  
  
  
  
  ”Hey,” Oliver cooed, “Have you ever thought about growing a plant?”
  
  
  Connor smiled again, shaking his head. “No… Not really.”
  
  
  
  
  “I’m not that responsible.” His tone was a mix of sarcasm and blunt seriousness, Oliver lightly laughed. Müller wasn’t that funny either…
  
  
  
  ”I think you could care for a cactus.”
  
  
  
  “…Why a cactus?” Connor turned to look at Oliver, who looked at him back… He always thought Cypress’ eyes were so, so pretty. Gosh, even his eyes looked soft. Oliver always felt safe. To him, at least. Everything about him was warm and unbelievably caring. From his voice to the way he looked. He could only think of one word to describe him; Beautiful.
  
  
  “Here, I was going to show you something!” Oliver excitedly smiled as he began moving back inside his home.
  
  
  Home… Such a simple word. But Connor never felt like his house was a home. Home was such an affectionate word, one that spelled a sense of comfort and safety. A place where he wasn’t angry, or in danger.
  
  
  Connor always felt at home whenever he was around Oliver. Nothing could hurt him there.
  
  
  Slowly, he began walking into Oliver’s home, it was so nice and small. He preferred it, compared to his father’s needlessly big house. Everything felt close when he was with Cypress. He liked that, in a way. It didn’t feel cold or distant, everyone was together. He’d call it humble, but Müller always found that word a little bit mean. Probably has something to do with what he was taught… He’d rather not think about that right now.
  
  
  Eventually, he made his way to Cypress’ room, he watched from a distance as he reached for something on his bookshelf. Connor’s eyes softly widened as he saw him take out a small cactus in a pot. Oliver smiled, gently holding the plant in his shaky, injured hands.
  
  
  ”Cacti are very sturdy and resilient- and resilient plants by nature...” Oliver mumbled, seemingly to no one.
  
  
  He lost his composure for a second once he saw Connor step into the room, face heating a little bit up from embarrassment alone.
  
  
  “They don’t need much care… And some can survive in seemingly impossible conditions!”
  
  
  ”I guess what I’m saying… Is that even you could care for a cactus! You do have… You do have a lot in common with them!”
  
  
  
  
  ”Huh.” Connor mumbled, absolutely melting under that small, uncaring noise. Wow, you’re so good at showing your emotions, Connor. Cypress could definitely read your tone on that one.
  
  
  
  “If you don’t want it it’s- it’s- it’s fine!—” He chuckled nervously, a little bit shakier than before.
  
  
  
  “Hey, I do want it. I’m just-” Connor stumped on his words, smiling in the process. “-Thank you.” Feelings were another sort of complicated for him. Well… Not ‘sort of’. Very complicated.
  
  Most of the time, he couldn’t understand them at all. Specifically this one. The one that Oliver made him feel. Something he was sure he’d never felt before, but it felt better than any other thing he feels on the regular.
  
  
  Softly, Connor extended and reached his arm to softly cup Oliver’s soft, shaking hands with his bandaged, rough ones. Holding the cactus with him. Cypress was becoming a goopy, nervous mess. Eyes darting all over the place, he looked at the wall, the floor, their hands, the cactus, and, eventually, Connor’s pretty, sleepy eyes.
  
  
  If he could, Oliver would eternally look into them.
  
  
  Cypress would melt at meeting the pale blue gems that were Connor’s half-lidded eyes. His face heated up further, white skin easily revealing the soft red that rushed to his face once Connor wouldn’t take his hands off of his. The contact didn’t cause him any discomfort, not at all, but it flustered him to have such close contact. Especially with Müller.
  
  
  Connor was too caught up in the feeling of Cypress’ hands to realize that he was supposed to take the cactus, not lovingly cup his hands and stare into his eyes.
  
  
  “Yeah!- Yeah- You can take… You can take it!” Oliver sounded both impatient and flustered.
  
  
  ”Right.” Connor nodded with a subtle smile. Carefully moving his hands to grab the small, maroon pot the cactus was planted in. He looked at the cactus. It was nearly tiny, very prickly, with tons of small, dangerous needles. Connor supposed it wasn’t fully grown yet.
  
  
  “Are we… Giving it a name?” Connor chuckled at his own words, what a stupid thing to say. But Oliver and Connor always named things. From the rocks in his collection to certain flowers, to Cypress’ pet beetle, Godzilla. But obviously, you’re going to name your pet beetle…
  
  
  
  ”Oh! Uhm….” Oliver thought this over. “How about… Rick?”
  
  
  
  ”Rick? Alright…” Connor nodded again. “Wait- Like… Like prick? You know, because, yeah?” Connor tried to explain some sort of joke to Cypress, who quietly laughed.
  
  
  
  ”I get it, I get it.” Oliver smiled, Connor was a bit dumb sometimes.
  
  
  
  For a moment, they simply stood in front of each other, appreciating the small plant. Cypress looked at Connor’s hands. They’ve gone through… A lot. No wonder they’re always bruised, bloodied, and bandaged. Oliver can’t remember how Müller’s hands looked without those bandages, or the dark red and purple that stained his rough knuckles. But seeing such a tool for violence softly and carefully hold a frail object like a potted plant? Oliver found it poetic.
  
  
  Like… Like if Connor was some sort of criminal with a heart of gold. Technically… He was. While Cypress wasn’t sure of what happened, he had an idea of what kind of brawls he got in. While it wasn’t anything that… Illegal, it wasn’t right. But he doesn’t want to un-justify or downplay Connor’s anger and his piling issues, even if multiple fights and injuries came as a consequence of that.
  
  
  There are still things that Connor doesn’t know about Oliver. And some things are better kept a secret.
  
  
  Oliver flinched as Connor murmured, “Have we finished that movie yet?”
  
  
  Thank God he was changing the topic, Oliver didn’t know for how long he could hold his eyes on Connor (and Rick) before getting too awkward. He sighed in relief before shaking his head no.
  
  
  “I don’t think we have, haha.” He didn’t know what movie Connor was talking about.
  
  
  
  “Want to finish it today?”
  
  
  
  “Yeah. We don’t have anything else to- anything else to do.” Oliver smiled.
  
  
  Carefully, Connor handed Rick back to Oliver, leaving him a bit confused, before;
  
  
  “Uh- I’m gonna go for some snacks. We still have leftover tea, right?”
  
  
  “I think it’s in the fridge, yeah.” He chuckled.
  
  
  
  Oliver half-wondered and half-knew why things got so awkward after their little moment. Neither of them knew how to think about that. But who would? The not-so-subtle hand holding, the lingering sights, the way the air felt around them. It wasn’t something that lingered in the back of their minds, either. It tickled his skin, like the friction of contact.
  
  But... That’s probably just because he isn’t used to physical touch. That’s probably it. Yeah...
  
  Cypress placed Rick on top of his drawer before reaching for the remote control to turn on the TV and look for the movie Connor kind of talked about. They watch a lot of movies. Don’t blame him for not being able to find what he mentioned! He should probably wait for Müller to come back so he can help him find that movie...
  
  
  About Müller;
  
  
  His outside was monotone and cliff-faced, but on the inside, he was absolutely and inevitably melting. He felt it more than he thought it, really. Most occasions of affection he receives get brushed off in his head as something he could completely dismiss and forget. And the fact that he was feeling so... Positive from this did NOT sit right with his mind. He was currently shunning himself and holding back obnoxious fan-girly squeals at the same time. While he poured himself some straight-from-the-fridge, cold tea.
  
  
  Stop thinking about... Anything and get to the snacks and drinks! Oliver’s waiting for you, and it’ll be even more awkward to leave him hanging for so long. He’s probably thinking about how weird that was! And he probably hates you now. Definitely. Totally. You screwed this up again, Connor!
  
  
  He groaned at his own thoughts as he finished putting the tea back in the fridge. He should probably get something more than two cups of tea.
  
  
  Connor, The Honey Bear Grahams. Oh my God, how could he be so stupid to forget about those cookies? Oliver always had the best snacks... No wonder he always hanged at his place, haha.
  
  He grabbed 2, no, 4, nah, 6 little bags of bear-shaped cookies. 3 for him, and 3 for Oliver. Or less if he felt like it. Those darned bears were his. He was territorial over them.
  
  
  He took the glasses and bear cookies in bulk and began to carefully walk back to Cypress’ room, trying not to spill or throw anything. He could’ve, I don’t know, bring the tea first and then get the cookies. Whatever, don’t overthink about that right now, you can’t go back and just... Leave the cookies.
  
  
  “Oh.” Oliver simply mumbled, chuckling.
  
  
  “What? Did you want more Grahams?” Connor snickered before setting down the glasses and bags on the drawer, next to Rick.
  
  
  
  Cypress let out a small “Pfft-” before turning back around to face the TV as Connor hopped into the bed, handing Oliver his glass of tea, taking a sip of his own meanwhile.
  
  
  “Uh- what movie were we watching last time?” He asked, holding the glass.
  
  
  “Uhmmm...” Connor thought about it. (He wasn’t thinking about it.)
  
  
  “You forgot, didn’t you?”
  
  
  “...Maybe I forgot.”
  
  
  Oliver chuckled at the ‘maybe’. “Let's just watch something new.” He scanned past some streaming services.
  
  
  “Horror movie?”
  
  
  
  “Horror movie.”
  
  
  
  
  
  
  (Both of them were scared shitless. There are honey Grahams on the floor and Oliver almost cried.)
  

 

[AlphaBlueWolf]

Name: Sora "Aguila" Ushida
Age: 14
Year: Freshman
Gender: Male
Personality: Sora is a bit of a punk, rowdy and loud mouthed, saying the things that are on his mind without hesitation. But beneath that is a caring young man, willing to help out those he cares for. He is determined to become great at the things he likes, often beating himself up when he has trouble with those interests. People will usually hear him blabbering off about those interests, as he is prone to hyper fixating on given topics for a period of time. Despite Sora being used to being on his own, he craves interactions with other people, and can come off like an annoying brat to those around him who even give him a little bit of a connection. He's also a thrill-seeker, pulling stunts for the adrenaline of it. But if you stick around through all the things that most find annoying, you'll find a caring boy, a little rough around the edges, but with humor and charm and dedication to him. A genuinely good kid wishing for approval and validation.

Background: Sora's birth was nothing but a mistake. Two fools, his parents were. Kids who had no idea what they were doing, messing around when his father was still in a rebellious teenage stage. A teen pregnancy was complicated enough, without Sora's father being the heir to a sports conglomerate. He had picked a nobody girl from a struggling family and had gifted her with Sora. Something that normally would be a gift, instead became a curse for his father's family.

Many factors of the situation complicated things. Such as Sora being of mixed race, of Hispanic/Japanese nationality, and he looked it too. The family couldn't just take him away and claim that he had been the product of the joining of an arranged marriage between another influential family. His heritage sullied the Ushida lineage, something that would stick out like a sore thumb and cause problems for them.

Then there were the mental conditions that hindered him. An early diagnosis of ADHD to add to the list of ways his father's side hated him. The family always had a cord to him. Kept their eyes out for Sora, knowing everything that was going on with him. They had to watch that no one found out he would become the heir to the company. They found out about his diagnosis easily, looking down on the way he fidgeted, and his impulsivity, and the fact that his grades would never meet their insane standards. His ADHD condemned him in their eyes, without them even getting to know him, a stain on him as well as them. The person he was didn't even matter to them, and he supposed it didn't matter to him as well considering he never found out just who his father was. Or that he was the CEO of the sports conglomerate, Ushida Faculties. He didn't know of Osuke Ushida, or that he was a street kid born from wealth.

While he didn't know his father, he always had his mother. They became close, even with the harshness of poverty. She instilled in him key values. Never start a fight but be ready to finish it. Don't steal from those who need it. Values of the street. In the end, she was never upset when he got into fights, or found some rich jerk to steal from to get their rent money. Maybe because she had the same rebellious spirit when she was younger, and a rebel's spirit had brought Sora into this world. Besides, he was a good kid at heart, even if he threw rocks at cop cars to press his luck for the thrill of it, or tried to get involved in whatever local gang was fighting.

In the end, troubled kids, especially hyperactive ones, just needed that one activity to keep them away from street violence. For Sora, that became sports. One day, he found himself getting kicked a ball by kids on a local court they were using for soccer. He started playing with them, and found he actually loved the sport. Most of all, he made friends with those kids. They had situations like him and could actually relate to him. And the movement soccer provided actually helped to calm down his ADHD. It helped to make his symptoms more manageable, the ones that he wasn't getting treated for because of their low-income situation, and the fact that it was so hard to seek ADHD medication that could regulate his symptoms. In the end, soccer, and sports in general, became his own form of medicine. Something he had found himself, which just made it that much more special for him. However, all his soccer time was soon caught up by some hoity toity team his mother had enrolled him in. Provided for by Ushida Faculties, the team was rigid and cold. It became less fun. It drained the sport of all the energy it once held. And no other sport caught his attention, as none nearly had as much running around as soccer did, in his opinion. So, he fell out of soccer, and back into his old ways. Roaming the streets, getting caught up into trouble, and his test grades were less than desired. Which is why Lakeside was far from good for him, what with their strict streak for academics, with no sports whatsoever. Yet, that's the school he got stuck with.

It was around the time that Sora entered into Lakeside High that he found out about some new revelations. At that time, Sora would come home from wandering the streets to stacks of envelopes sitting in his mailbox. He'd taken to helping sort them out for his mother when he could, to provide one less stress for her. Despite being a little annoyance for his peers around him, he did actually try to help his mother whenever he could, often picking up skills around the house while she was at work. Cooking, cleaning, even manually washing their clothes. He was a hard worker, despite everyone thinking of him as a slacker, and even somewhat enjoyed it with all the movement. It became his routine, sort out things around the house, maybe get homework done if he could sit still and understand it for once, and then go to roam the streets. He didn't think of himself as responsible, no one did, but in the end, he became the responsible sort. He'd come home and contribute, doing chores, and eventually he came to sort the stacks of bills that appeared in their mailbox. It was usually just bills and junk mail, but one day there was an unusual envelope that caught his attention. It was thick with cash, a note addressed to his mother from one Osuke Ushida. It was more cash than Sora had seen his mother bring home, especially in actual yen. It was no check, as such a thing could be tracked and measured, but cold cash. And what was more, the note may have been addressed to his mother, but it seemed to concern him. A month later, he found the same payment in the mail, and a month after that too. He didn't quite understand it, but it seemed like an agreement between this Osuke Ushida and his mother, regarding him. He researched about him, finding out that he was the CEO of Ushida Faculties, but by the time he tried to look deeper into it, the summer was over, and he was starting his first year at Lakeside. And Lakeside provided him with plenty of distractions that his quest for knowledge on the relationship between Osuke and his mother was left abandoned for now.

Sora became what you'd call a social outcast within Lakeside's walls, ever since he started the school. He was at the bottom of the academic's ladder, struggling with overactive ADHD symptoms while getting no help from his peers around him. Everyone else saw him as a slacker, and a delinquent, leading him to become isolated by his peers. The numerous fist fights he got into because he could back up his words with punches, when the other preps couldn't, didn't help much to better his social standing either. He became the ghost of Lakeside's past, in many ways, scaring off people into thinking he was the sporty type of delinquent that existed back then, before the school was rounded out. People like him were just why they disbanded the team, they thought about him. In the end, he felt utterly alone, the same as with the new soccer team. Nothing sparked his interest, and thus he failed in school with no one to support him.

Until he met Akito Suzuki. He had been practicing in the gym with a volleyball, testing out some equipment Kazuki brought in. The boy had sent it over the net, and in a quick reflex Sora dived like an eagle baring down on prey and saved the ball, sending it right back over the net. Akito introduced the idea of a libero to him after such a play, a player who made quick moves on the court just like the move he'd pulled. So, volleyball wasn't just standing still in a fixed spot after all. Ever since then, Sora hasn't been able to get the idea of a libero out of his mind. Fixating on it, he's come to watch countless plays by libero's, learning skills in volleyball that he had not known previously, practicing with it every single day since then. And even though being a Libero sometimes meant sitting out, something he was not very good at, he still enjoyed watching the fast movements and quick reflexes and wanted to become specialized in that part himself. Most of all, Akito became an inspiration to him. He used his words to get his points across, instead of enforcement from his fists, and his determination and aspiration for the sport was infectious. He wanted to be like him, and train to play to the best of his ability. Though he had little chance to actually play the game, he still practiced every day, and when he saw the poster for Lakeside's new team, he was ecstatic. He never thought Lakeside would offer any sports, but here they were. He promised himself that the day of the try-outs, he'd run straight to the gym to snag the spot of the team's Libero, not even realizing the potential that it wouldn't really be a try-out. The academics of the school were not likely to be so interested in it, unlike Sora who could not wait to begin the season.

Likes: Stray cats- Soccer- Volleyball- Tamagotchi

Dislikes: Snobs- ADHD - Studying- School- Tests

Positive Trait: Growing up on the streets, Sora has a lot of street smarts in him. He knows how to deal with potentially dangerous situations like a champ, and despite getting angry, he knows when running is the best option. Most of all, these skills help in volleyball, regarding tricks and plays. He has fancy footwork and when engaged on volleyball he can keep aware of his surroundings. He may not be able to focus on most things, but with the fixation part of ADHD, he shows immense focus on the game and other players, able to read their plays. He can look around at all the players and tell the exact moment the opposite team has come up with a trick, because of having an immense level of street smarts. If they make it look like their serving to another spot on the court, but really, it's the exact opposite, he'll already be dashing to the correct spot before anyone knows what happened. Because of his background, he can read through most tricks and deceptions, and not just on the court. He's not the stupid kid others take him for.

Negative Trait: Sora can be a bit of a show-off, always having something to prove to others for the way they treated him, especially at school. This can lead him to push others down to make himself look cooler. He doesn't do it with a malicious intent however and doesn't understand that what he's doing hurts others. Part of that problem comes from his ADHD affecting his grasp of social cues, not understanding the subtle implications of others being upset over it until they shout it in his face. This especially comes into play on the court, with Sora pushing past others to get to the ball, and even making plays that he's not allowed to as a Libero. He doesn't want to show others they are right about him being weak, so he tries to grasp the ball whenever he can even if it means hurting the chances of those around him.

Extra: Sora's ADHD often affects how he plays. Sure, his ADHD can hinder him, but in certain ways, it also makes him a better player with his different way of thinking and processing. One of the biggest differences between him and other volleyball players is despite being in a zone before he's needed, he's still always moving. His fidgeting ends up focusing on the thing he's hyper fixating on, which in a game would be the ball and its movement. His feet move towards the direction of the ball as it moves between court to court, and when he's needed to save the ball, he's already in the right position he needs to dash towards it. He basically attunes himself to the ball, making him able toEven though this causes his feet to get really sore after a match, it's worth it. And with his status as a Libero, he'll have plenty of time to let his feet rest on the bench.

- Sora definitely wears Heelys even after they were cool. By the time his mother had saved up enough money to gift him a pair, they were already out of style. However, Sora appreciates everything his mother gets him and continues to wear them. Besides, he thinks they're cool and that's all that matters.

- Sora uses fidget toys. Really any kind of fidget toy he'll use as he's on the more hyperactive spectrum. He even brings a yoyo with him that he'll mess around with on free periods, though he has less obvious fidget toys that can be used in class. A fidget spinner under his desk, a small foldable cube, even a few links of a bike chain. It seems rude while he uses these when having a conversation, but they actually help him focus more because his hands are busy doing things, so his mind is more focused.

Position: Libero
What school they attend: Lakeside
Height: 5'2
Weight: 104

Specialty: Sora has an insane amount of speed and endurance, even for a libero. If all the teams liberos in the tournament did a race around a track, he would undoubtedly be first, and would never slow down to catch his breath throughout the entire thing. There are two main factors to this skill. The first is the training he went through. Volleyball is Sora's second sport. His first was soccer, a sport built on speed and endurance. He worked on pushing his legs to run faster and faster and use every last wisp of air to keep his body going. Eventually, he built the skill to be strong, known as the faster among his friends when he was still playing. He was even the fastest among the league team he was put on, to the other kids' annoyance. The other factor is his ADHD. He was built for movement, so of course he was going to excel in that aspect of volleyball. Being able to fly forward at incredible speeds to save the ball through bumps, digs, and dives is what makes him an incredible libero.

Least Developed Skill: What aspect of a libero does he fall? The support part.​

 

[AlphaBlueWolf]

Name: Kazuki "Zuki" Ishioka
Age: 18
Year: Senior
Personality: Kazuki is a level-headed guy, keeping his cool in harsh situations and typically taking a logical approach to things. Though he can come off blunt regarding sides in an issue, he'll always be there to hear a problem out and put genuine thought into it. He is a genuinely charismatic guy, a kind tone usually to his voice. He softens his logic to come off as compassionate care and adjusts himself to the needs of others. People at school view him as a perfect model, kind and charming due to his intelligence and charisma. He may take rules a little too seriously, trying to bend others to conform to them with some exceptions, and these actions have led some to know him as ice cold. One of the fastest ways to earn his respect is through determination and sheer will power to perform a specific task, the reason why he holds the underclassman Akito Suzuki in such high regards.

Kazuki appears extremely confident with not a care for what people say about him, and that is somewhat true. He is confident and very sure of himself, however like everyone he has some insecurities down inside that most people don't know about. However, he uses his confidence and charisma to pull off manipulative tactics, mostly none the wiser about his schemes. To some he is kind and compassionate, to others an uptight prick. And to those who can see through his manipulation, a conniving, Ice-Cold Prince. All of these are true to some extent, as well as some nerdy tendencies hidden deep within. Kazuki is a very layered person, upholding these layers from conflict in the past. He is still struggling with self-acceptance, and the gratifying response to what the school thinks is the real Kazuki.

Brief Background: Kazuki is regarded as a handsome guy and incredibly well respected at Lakeside. However, in previous schools it wasn't always the case. Kazuki grew up at the Ishioka Dojo, a dojo specializing in the training of Kendo. He learned from a young age to have a love for the art and trained basically since birth to learn the skill and control of the art, leaning into his calm demeanor whilst handling situations. It disciplined him, and kept him fairly active and fit, despite him not looking like someone who kept active in building his body. At school he looked like some nerd and got bullied severely for it. He looked thin, without much substance to him, with a thick rim of glasses and an appreciation for the sciences. Specifically, astronomy. The other kids bullied and belittled him for talking about stars and planets instead of bouncing around a ball. He'd come home with broken glasses every so often, to the point where he started to change himself to fit the mold of the sports heavy school, and the first step was getting rid of the glasses.

He started participating in sports during his free period rather than gushing over astronomy. However, he kept his distance from the other kids and never made true connections with anyone. During this period, he felt disconnected from himself, not truly happy. He wasn't doing something he enjoyed, falling into an unhappy rhythm, but he couldn't fight against the move of the crowd. It stayed that way up until middle school. And when he reached the point of high school, he automatically knew he wanted to go to Lakeside. The focus in the school was academics, not sports. It was perfect for him, however he never learned how to make connections early on, so while he thrived in the academic sense, he couldn't make tangible connections with fellow classmates. He became student council president, the reason he became notorious in their school and not just a guy in the background. He made incredible advances to better Lakeside, becoming one of the main reasons the school was set straight from its delinquent behavior and low-test grades. Council presidents of the past paved the way, and Kazuki came to enforce that rule with an iron and cold fist. Yet, because of his connection issues, he became known as the Ice-Cold Prince among fellow students. He knew how to rule as a dictator but could never figure out how to be real with his classmates.

The Ice-Cold Prince's charismatic but conniving ways go back to middle school. Finally coming to the decision that sports just weren't for him, he fell out of that crowd around middle school, doing his own thing while continuing to get bullied. The damage had already been done quite extensively, leading to bruises that struggled to heal, an inability to make connections with classmates and Kazuki's distaste for his glasses and general appearance. He started wearing contacts instead and focusing on his height and weight gain, becoming tall to tower over people with a looming presence. Part of that came from the fact that he was always conscious of his appearance to an unhealthy degree. He often hated what he looked like, becoming sensitive to other's opinions. An unhealthy obsession with his body, but one that set him on the right paths of staying active and healthy. However, Kazuki soon found a way to move past his body issues, and the other students that caused them.

He was given cleaning duty in the gym one day, after the sports team had cleared out. He found one of the star athletes and main bullies with performance enhancing drugs, illegal and something that would lead to trouble for the boy if the faculty found out. He took pictures, wrestled with turning the guy in, but instead confronted him about it. What was originally meant to be a lecture about how those things would destroy his body and hurt his performance in school, became the bully kowtowing to Kazuki, begging for him not to show anyone the pictures. He looked so vulnerable in that state, and Kazuki couldn't reject the notion that he loved the experience, even with the shock that came first. He blurted out something about the kid always being mean to him, which he replied that he would back off of Kazuki as long as he didn't spread those pictures around. It was the first time when he had power over other kids, besides when he led sessions at the dojo. How could he refuse that power? The kid had set himself up for blackmail too, Kazuki replying that he wouldn't post around the pictures so long as he stopped the bullying. No one bothered him after that, so Kazuki learned about the benefits blackmail could provide him. The nerd had power, and he found himself trying to dig up dirt on everyone so he could use it against them if he needed to. That's how he came to get into his conniving ways of manipulation.

As Kazuki grew up, there became layers to him. Layers that people only uncover should they grow close to him. Some are defensive, others are just how he is. They lead to his mystery and charm, and soon the layers became Kazuki. Somewhere along the way, he lost himself, and it took till senior year of high school to find himself once more.

He came to find himself in one Akito Suzuki. Originally, he found the freshman quite annoying. He couldn't work as student council president without being hounded by the boy. Everything came to revolve around that one annoying freshman. To him, Akito was just another sports nut, like the bullies from his childhood. He gave him no mercy, no leeway and no leverage with him. He let the adults deal with the fourteen-year-old, sticking to his council duties. The two barely interacted, and Kazuki preferred it that way.

Until the next year, when Akito became a sophomore. The kid dared to go to the Ice-Cold Prince, bothering him once more, instead of the school's faculty. However, even though he found the kid annoying, Kazuki was the first one to give him a voice. He didn't laugh in Akito's face and tell him to get lost. He simply locked his eyes onto him, a freezing cold chill, and asked him why he wanted to bring back the team. And Akito's response shocked him, shooting right into Kazuki's core. The boy didn't have anywhere else he could go to enjoy the sport and have a good time playing it. Nowhere else would support him in his interests, and certainly not Lakeside. But he kept trying and trying, hoping that his voice would be loud enough to reach someone who would let him play. His determination was apparent, something the prince couldn't say the same for of himself. Kazuki no longer saw an annoying nuisance of a boy, but his younger self, desperately searching for anyone to share his passions with, and ultimately finding no one. And that experience had shaped him into his cold self. But Akito had not yet been tainted, showing purity. Better morality than Kazuki sure had. Akito wasn't some dumb jock who bullied around the nerd. He just wanted an avenue where he could do the thing he enjoyed, much like what a younger Kazuki had sought after. And his determination for the sport just hit Kazuki. He loved Astronomy, and the sciences, and yet he had not had enough determination or willpower to see it through. To push through the people who bullied him, and just enjoy what he loved. That was enough for Kazuki, and his brain worked on plays to make it a reality for Akito. No one had helped him, and he was damn sure he wouldn't let the same fate befall the shining star that was Akito.

He agreed to help the kid, and ever so slightly weaseled in the idea of the team. He inserted the idea into the faculties minds that they would no longer have to deal with Akito's pestering should they just give into him. If Akito failed, he'd stop trying, and if he succeeded, then it would be a success for Lakeside as well, proof of the school's reform. They trusted his judgement, knowing he could read people quite well as an amazing president. They were getting tired themselves, and let him have the team, however with no support. It angered the Ice-Cold Prince; however, he kept his mouth shut and provided his own help to Akito. He started amassing some equipment himself, and even helped hang up posters here and there. He took care of the background stuff, the financial aspect of the team, while Akito remained the face of the operation. All the while, he became the voice for Akito's team in meetings and debates. He made no effort to declare himself Akito's ally, remaining a neutral lie, however acted as a mediator between the school and Akito. At a certain point, Akito had brought up the idea of Kazuki becoming the team's coach, who already acted like one with the management of the team. What may have been a joke, or a serious invitation, soon became reality. The posters they had put up looking for coaches had not worked, considering no pay would be offered. Administration had never bothered to hire a real coach, or give them any sort of funds, most of all the costs coming from both Akito and Kazuki's pockets. They argued that if they saw success within the team, they'd make it a more permanent installation within the school, and give them actual funding and coaches, but it also meant they were without the advantages other teams had. They didn't have a real coach, but Kazuki agreed and became a sort of student coach, while also managing the student council and the team's image within the council. All the while, no one was the wiser of the new development of him becoming the team's coach. He made sure Akito knew it to be a secret, and that the teen would advise the rest of the team that it was to be a secret. With the social standing of the team at this point, it would be a risk to make his involvement known. He could reap the rewards of reveal when the team was successful, however he refused to reveal himself as coach now. It would ruin his image and cast doubt upon him, both socially and academically. For now, he stayed hidden, a point of conflict for the team that remained unsolved.

However, if he was going to be the coach, he needed to step back into the world of sports. So, he gave it his all to learn the sport, going above and beyond for a subject he didn't entirely like. It was Akito's determination and need to play the sport. That's what had started it for him, kept his motivation going into late training and practice. And if he was being honest, those qualities in the teen were what got him into some form of enjoyment when he got plays right or made impressive moves. Kazuki was by no means an expert, and there were plenty of things he didn't understand about volleyball, but he gave it his all. A room in the dojo that they didn't need had become dedicated to his practice in volleyball. He'd set up a net in there, buying a rack of volleyballs that he could continuously use to work on his skills. He practiced every day since it'd been declared he'd become their coach, taking an immense amount of duty and responsibility in his newfound job. He wanted to fully support Akito, the spitting image of his younger self, so he put hard work into learning.

Akito and him sort of became partners. Akito had all the volleyball know-how, while Kazuki was the charismatic voice of the team, handling the background affairs. One such affair was the idea of an assistant coach, discussing it in length with Akito. Of course, it seemed even less likely to get an actually trained assistant coach when they couldn't even find an actual coach, however they decided to tailor their posters towards finding one. If they couldn't, Kazuki would just have to work ten times harder to pick up the slack with his limited volleyball knowledge, but if they did end up finding one, it would just help to be an extra cushion of support. The wait was long as they started getting the gym ready for the team, but eventually there came a young adult wheeling into the gym, a poster in hand. Her request to become the assistant coach of Lakeside's new team was pleasant if not jarring for the fact that she sat in a wheelchair. Originally, the under-confident, wheelchair bound Kisa Satou didn't seem like much to him, but he soon found out about the same untapped determination and potential she held for the sport. How Kisa had no means of playing on a real court, no one to believe she could do it after her injury, but how she had such a drive and a passion for it. She was like him and Akito in that way, and in a similar way to how he guided Akito, he found himself taking Kisa under his wing as well. The dynamic at first was strange, considering he was guiding an adult he was supposed to be polite and respectful to as per cultural norms, however they soon fell into an apprentice/mentor relationship, Kazuki as the mentor guiding a diffident Kisa through the challenges of leadership. The young woman provided key information to Kazuki, guiding him in her own way as well. Though she wasn't officially trained to become a coach, she had played the sport in her high school years before her injury, and knew a thing or two about how to play. She could help out Kazuki whenever he needed assurance on rules and plays. All she needed was guidance and self-confidence, something Kazuki could eventually build up in her. With his usual kind tone, and awareness of psychology and manipulation, Kazuki has excelled in guiding both Akito and Kisa, and eventually newcomers as well, solving conflicts and figuring out strategies with the people he'd soon come to integrate himself with. He'd slowly peel away those layers with the very thing that got him to build them in the first place. But for now, he was the Ice-Cold Prince, a conniving, manipulative bastard who used his kind tongue and charisma to charm the student body into blindly following his ways.

Likes: Kendo- Astronomy- Teaching- Little kids

Dislikes: Slackers- Bullies- Delinquents

Positive Trait: Kazuki does nothing halfway. If he's going to do something, he's going to make the time for it. Be that training the little kids at the dojo in the art of Kendo, or even his role as coach for Lakeside's team, he's committing to it all the way. After all, determination and consistency are two of his biggest morals.

Negative Trait: Kazuki is well versed in the ways of manipulation. His cunning and charismatic wit leads him to be able to pull off manipulation tactics well. He may be less physically threatening than the players of the volleyball tournament, but he can still pack a punch in other ways. Whether it be personal manipulation, black mail, or public humiliation, he can do it all and use it to his advantage. He'll usually use these things before any sort of physical tactics, though he can still back up his words with a punch, or rather a Kendo stick being his preferred method of combat. Since he uses these tactics, its often hard to tell the real Kazuki beneath it all, the nerdy little boy that he still is inside and never got to be. Once someone is aware of the manipulation, should Kazuki be using it on them, it becomes hard to trust his words. Sometimes, Kazuki himself can't even trust the things he says.

Position: Student Coach
What school they attend: Lakeside
Height: 6'1
Weight: 148​

 

[Minma]

Name: Minma Netto

Age: 17

Height: 5'11

Weight: 142

Year: Junior

Personality: Minma is a cool headed, alpha type of guy. He doesn't hold back when critiquing his teammates. He is charismatic and tends to give compliments. He is passionate and really does enjoy the game, and his position and volleyball. He has a strong willpower and a mind of a hard worker.

Brief Background: Minma played basketball from 6th grade to the 8th grade before joining the high school volleyball team his freshman year. He first started off as a libero in his freshman year. He was electrified to start playing volleyball. Basketball got boring for Minma, he was, simply put, just too good at it. Every year he started and every year he played they won the championship. Same in elementary school when he played soccer and baseball. Minma had always been ahead of his class in sports, making him a genius.

It wasn't until he became Lakeside's Libero's he would realize what it truly meant to go through the emotional drain of losing games. Winning came natural to the genius, it was like breathing, and Lakeside took that away. Volleyball took that away. All his life sports were boring to Minma but now he was challenged and deep down it pushed him. Minma's positive, bossy, attitude never changed. Even when he was carrying his teams to victory and setting his team up for losses on lakeside.

Lakeside became MInma's home, and volleyball became Minma's passion. The gym carries thousands of stories of games, practices, fights, tears, laughs, and more. Minma was there for the past two years and lived through so many of them. That, the fact that it was challenging, and his stubborn need for victory didn't let Minma give up on himself or his team. However his attitude by itself couldn't hold the team together.

Being the analyst and keen person Minma was he could see it coming before it happened. The dismemberment of Lakeside's volleyball team, but it was more than that for MInma. It was the loss of friends, a passion, and something he loved. After he finished off his sophomore year known as the ''okay, but not good enough setter to even think about going big time'' setter, MInma feel into a slight depression, however his mentality and strong willpower allowed him to pull himself out of it. That summer after the worst record of games Minma ever recorded in his life, he trained the hardest he ever did in his life that summer. It wasn't even for Lakeside, it was for himself, he had no knowledge of Lakeside's volleyball team opening back up again.

Countless nights and days, some cold some hot. Others had plentiful stars in the sky, some were short of a good performance and others were hard. By the end of the summer he was a new force. Way more skilled than 3 and a half months ago. He was quicker, smarter, and more comfortable with the ball and different plays. Even his aura was different. He was ready to take on the world.

Interest: Track, basketball, and drawing.

POSITION: setter​

 

[KaiMedia]

Haruto Takahashi ​

Age: 14
Gender: Male
Height: 5'10"
Weight: 130lb
Year: Freshman
Position: Opposite

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Interests: Other than Volleyball Haruto likes to do Gymnastics, He also enjoys science, and Music​

Personality: Haruto is known to be a pretty reserved guy. Hes never been shy by any means and in fact quite enjoys being arounf people, He simply doesn't show a lot of emotion in things. Only giving small half smiles or frowns depending on the situation, usually however you will just find him witha a rather straight face. In a similar vein Haruto tends to be one of the quietest in a group only really speaking when nessisarry and when simple gestures wont quite do the trick... That is except for when he is around just one or two close friends and nobody else is really around. In these situations he has been known to become very chatty.

However on the court he is like a different human being very vocal when he needs to be and putting his emotions on full display. He takes the sport very seriously and it shows by how he acts even though he has been known to be a little full of himself sometimes thinking he is far better than he his and seeming a bit arrogant. That's of course not to say he isn't a talented player just not always as talented as he thinks.

Brief history:​

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Haruto was born in Japan to Haru and Hina Takahashi two world class Olympic athletes. This quickly set in stone his destiny to follow in their footsteps and become an athlete, And how could he not? Surely he would bring shame to the family if he didn't right? At four Haruto and his family moved to Russia, His father was given an opertunity to play on the olympic team fo rsubstantionally more money and it was an oportunity they couldn't pass up. At six Haruto began showing interest in gymnastics so his parents quickly got him the best coaches money could buy and to their credit it paid off. Haruto quickly soared beyond the normal levels of a beginner. But it wouldn't last as his interest and Passion switched shortly after turning seven. He still loved doing gymnastics and had no real desire to stop but became clear to him that he wanted to play volleyball just like his father. He would constantly be hitting a ball around the house, the park, or really anywhere he could get away with it. His mother would often joke that his ball must be glued to his hip as it went everywhere he did. He had even started begging his dad to take him to practice where he would carefully study everything the players would do trying to perfect his own technique. It didn't take long for Haru to notice his son's fascination with the sport and just like that Haruto went from gymnastics to volleyball 2 hours a day five sometimes six days a week.

Haru never wanted to force volleyball on his son but if Haruto wanted to play he was going to make sure the boy trained hard and did everything he could to be the best. Unbeknownst to Him however this extreme training regiment quickly began stressing Haruto out sure he was interested in playing but to a seven year old this was insane but Haruto just sucked it up and pushed through guessing this is just what happens when both of your parents are Olympic athletes and he doesn't really have a choice. Needless to say Haruto began putting pressure on himself to be the best to not disgrace his family. In reality his parents couldn't care less if the boy never played the sport at all. In fact at times his father would push him extra hard truing to get him to quite, He knew all too well being an athlete can be great but it can also take a major toll on you and Haru wasn't sure he wanted that life for his son. Of course though Haruto didn't see things this way, in Haruto's mind the only way he could honor his parents and avoid being a disgrace was to be an athlete and the best possible one he could be. So he kept pushing himself harder and harder. Streessing both his body and his mind out in the prossess.

Eventually though Haruto got used to the training even coming to find a love for it. It got to a point where he almost relied on his training and would feel off if something caused him to miss a session, This would always put him in a bad mood for the day. Haruto loved volleyball and he loved training he felt more alive on a court than he did anywhere else this led to him becoming quite good at the sport and finding his place on the team tho he had trained pretty much everywhere throughout his life it was no question that he liked playing opposite it was his sweat spot and his home.

Over the summer it was announced that Haruto and his family would be moving "home" to Japan. Not that Haruto considered Japan home he could hardly remember the place. If it wasn't for his parents refusing to speak anything but Japanese at home he probably wouldn't even remember the language. No as far as he was concerned he was Russian and not at all pleased with the announcment of the move. He infact distanced himself a bit from his parents giving them the cold shoulder for most of the summer and began refusing to speak japanese at home instead usually just yelling responces in Russian. But alas it did nothing to change the outcome, Despite his best efforts near the end of summer off they went to Japan.

Haruto may not be the happiest about the move but he will be damned if he lets it ruin his life. He canb still be pissed at his parents while continuing to live his life. That of course includes getting on a vollyball team.

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Likes
Volleyball
Gymnastics
Classical Music
Being around friends
working out/ training
eating clean/ Vegitarian diet​

Dislikes
it being quiet around him
Electronic music styles
Unfamiliar locations
Sitting still
Meat/seafood​

Fun Fact
Haruto doesn't like being left alone with his own thoughts in silence as the quiet he feels brings out the worst parts of his mind. As such he almost always has an earbud in at least one ear with something playing, whether that is some clasical music or a podcast something is always shooting through those things.

---

Positive Trait:​

Haruto is a very compasionate person. While he might not say a lot he will always gladly listen intently and offer a shoulder to cry on to anyone in need. Sometimes even to people he doesn't like very much. He deeply believes everyones feelings matter and their struggles deserve to be taken seriously.

Negative Trait​

Haruto does not take well to failing. Whether that be loosing a game, getting a bad grade, or just letting someone down. In the Face of failure Haruto becomes almost unaprochably angry but only with himself never taking it out on or blaming others. When he does get like this you will usually find him unhealthily deep diving into whatever it is he failed at. If he lost a game he will train for hours refusing to take a break sometimes until his body litterally fails. Bad grade? He will stay up for days studying. Its worth knowing its not impossible to pull him out of this if you know him well enough all it really takes is getting hime to realize the negative effect he is having on himself. The problem being most people are just to scared to approach him. When the normaly quiet resevered kid is visibly angry people tend to stay away.

 

[AlphaBlueWolf]

Name: Kisa Satou
Age: 27
Personality: Kisa is a kindhearted and passionate young woman. When she was younger, she showed to be an energetic kid with confidence and impeccable morals. She showed a great talent in leadership, but she was also a great team player.

After her injury, Kisa became withdrawn from those around her. She became depressed and shut out the people closest to her out of her own sadness, regret, and suffering. She felt too guilty to face anyone and took the easy route of cutting ties. She turned from a bright young girl with endless amounts of confidence, to a shell of her former self. She became quiet, reserved, and lost her confidence in herself. But she never lost her kindness. She's been lost, but slowly she's been finding her way and getting her confidence back.

Brief Background:
"March comes in like a lion..."

Kisa didn't remember Saga life. Coming back to a rural prefecture felt odd to her, after living in Tokyo for so long. Her parents claimed that she was born here, but she felt like an outsider. Strange people, and a strange life she didn't know anything about.

Her parents had picked up and moved to Tokyo when she was only a small child. She didn't remember much about Saga, about running around as a small child with a playmate. She was too young at that time to have retained any of those memories. All she knew were of things others told her. That she had been energetic. That while others her age were playing with blocks and stuffed animals and dolls, she was in the backyard fascinated by worms and frogs around the creek deeper out from the house. Or about the older gentleman who smiled at her from the garden, who answered her questions about animals and plants from the forest, always a curious child. The man that was apparently her grandfather, that she hadn't seen for years.

Now, at age twelve, she could see him from the front yard, wrinkles of earned kindness and cracked hands from hard work tending his garden. The man who had become estranged to her ever since the move to Tokyo for business. Kisa had been taken away from the life suited for her, and from the man who had been her best friend since she was a baby. Now, it felt strange to be in his presence. His teachings were no longer kind to her, more strange. She couldn't relate to gardens and creeks, when all she remembered was skyscrapers galore, wide streets tallied with never-ending white lines, and the bustling noise even after night. She went to bed to cars and barking dogs and late-night workers. Now, all she could hear in Saga were the crickets chirping loudly and the peaceful silence she had once known as her home, now turned stranger to her ears.

But she'd been told the rural reaches of Saga had always been good to her. She'd seen old pictures and home videos of her zipping around through Saga's streets, gardening with her grandfather in that same backyard, and splashing around in the creek. Back then she had been full of life but moving to the big city had deflated her spirit and retreated her outgoing nature into shyness. That's why she was back after years. The big city hadn't been good for her health. The air had been stuffy, full of smog that clogged up her airways and gave her asthma attacks so bad she had to keep an inhaler with her at all times. Her orange hair framed unusually freckled cheeks, bright with stress fueled blush. But out in the openness of Saga, the peace and beauty and crisp air, those problems didn't follow her. So, she was sent back to the prefecture to live with her grandfather, her parents staying in Tokyo for work.

The house she stayed at was attached to a shop. The Tora Cafe. It was in part the inspiration for her name, Kisa, meaning cat. Tora meant tiger, and she'd grown to love tigers. The Tora Cafe was a nice, cozy place to sit down and eat, which grew many of their own ingredients in the garden out back of the shop. And it had become famous for its conservation work. It was all about mixing a cozy cafe atmosphere with education about the wilderness and endangered wildlife. They mostly focused on big cats, tigers being a big part of their atmosphere and merchandising, but also lions and leopards. And other animals as well, not just cat related. They even had their own mascot, March, a brown and white Maine Coon cat with a permanently closed left eye, a pink scar marching down her eye. An extremely friendly cat, despite being a rescue abandoned in the warmer climate of Japan by visiting tourists, coming from an abusive household. Declawed and abandoned to fend for herself, Kisa's grandfather had taken in the friendly cat. Now plump, fluffy, and well cared for, she liked to greet the guests like a regular hostess, and no one complained about her visits, turning the conservation cafe into somewhat of a cat cafe. A cat cafe with a fluffy population of one. And March provided the added benefit of spreading awareness about declawing cats, turning the conversation work to include awareness about pet practices.

The cat took a great shine to Kisa, following around the orange haired girl as she helped out as a waitress. She provided some comfort as Kisa made her adjustments into Saga life, what with the cat constantly wanting to snuggle up to her. And the cafe was a great way for her to open to her grandfather, sharing interests in tigers and wildlife. When Kisa went out on walks, she'd take her camera with her to get beautiful nature shots, and her grandfather often incorporated those shots into the cafe. Soon, she grew back into the kid she was years prior, before the move. She found an appreciation for Saga. The nature shots she could capture with her camera were beautiful here in rural Saga, shots she'd never be able to get in the city atmosphere of Tokyo. She got into baking, learning responsibility as she helped her grandfather run the shop. Eventually, her ears learned the tunes of nature, much different and subtle compared to Tokyo's buzzing streetlamps and blazing cars. A summer spent settling in ended in the start of the new school year, entering Saga's school system in 7th grade.

At that time, she fell back into that same oddness of not knowing what to do or how to start making friends. She was an outsider to all the different friend groups at her middle school. No one knew her, and everyone had forgotten about Kisa from when she lived here as a child. She had no friends, and she was usually left to wander the halls alone. Her grandfather thought it would be a good idea to sign up for the school's newspaper and photography club, because of her interests in photos. Her first assignment was to document a volleyball game that their school was playing. The movements were fluid and amazing. Each team made powerful strikes, but her school's team came out on top with an amazing final volley.

After the game, when all the spectators had filed out of the gym, she sat on the bleachers, sifting through the photos on her camera to grab the best ones. She'd been looking at an action shot of a tall middle blocker, his arms outstretched to create a wall the ball bounced off of. She held up her camera high when she noticed the very same middle blocker was standing in front of her. They looked at each other awkwardly at first, Kisa trying to place his face. He seemed familiar, and as she tried to search the far reaches of her memory for answers, the boy floundered for a starter.

"A-Are you Kisa Satou?" Was the best thing he seemed to come up with.

"Um, yeah. Are you here for the interview?" She asked, assuming the other club members had sent him her way.

"N-No, actually. My name's Theodore Barnes. Do you remember me? We used to play together when we were kids."

And there it was. That's why she knew his face, and his size too. Her grandfather had a picture of them together as kids. Though their faces were plump with baby fat and much more immature, she could picture the frame in her mind and see how Theodore related to the boy who used to be her playmate as kids. He was only a year older than her, in 8th grade now, but back then he'd already been the tallest kid on the playground. But he was perpetually shy. In fact, even if Kisa was the smaller one, she was the one with more energy and way more talkative and outgoing than Theodore. She would be the one to threaten anyone on the playground if they talked bad about Theodore, and she did most of the talking too. When they were young, she'd spit out nature facts her grandfather had taught her to impress him, and push Theodore towards activities with action and groupwork. But even so, Theodore seemed to thrive in silent activities. He was always the better artist, and they even still had some of his artwork up in the garden, her grandfather telling her about one day they'd been helping put up little plates to specify what plant was in what garden bed. They helped him decorate the signs, and Theodore had put up some cool art relating to each plant. They preferred different mediums, Kisa taking to photography, while Theodore continued to grow as an artist.

The rest of the day served to catch each of them up on their whereabouts and how they'd been doing, and eventually the two became friends once more. Theodore even taught her some volleyball techniques, mostly so Kisa could look smarter in her writing. The sport served to help them bond once more, and Kisa found the activity enjoyable. It felt like she'd gone right back to her roots of hollering and hooting over running around rough housing, the exception being she was considerably toned down from when she was a kid. Most of all, it felt like it had cemented her place within Saga. She'd found a home for herself in the volleyball team to the point where everyone on the team knew her, and not just as the photography girl too. They knew her name, knew her personality and story, and they even invited her out. Even when her link to them, Theodore, left for high school, the group still welcomed her with open arms. And by the time she came to join Theodore at Lakeside High, she was ready to join in on the action-packed fun the volleyball court could bring.

Things were complicated during Kisa's freshman year. Theodore had joined Lakeside's volleyball team, continuing to grow well past her, and he'd urged her to join the team as well. She wanted to join, just to even play volleyball, but unfortunately at that point the school no longer had a girls volleyball team. Disbanded because of the school's growing worry over their sports branch, they'd put all their backing behind the boys' team which had shown a much better past year. They'd been beginning to pull out other teams as well, yet no one foresaw what would eventually happen. Yet, there was only a boys' team, which would not allow her inclusion, even if she begged them to allow her to play. But Kisa didn't throw in the towel just yet. Like a certain future upstart, Kisa argued with Lakeside staff, advocating for herself and any others who wished to play sports but did not have a team to join. Eventually, they grew tired of her asking and allowed her to join the male team, creating a slightly mixed sex team, but only because the team needed a libero to join the upcoming tournament. But Kisa wouldn't get to shine all too much. She was the newest player to both the sport and the team, and though Theodore helped her out tremendously when she needed it, his drawings and animations becoming amazing encouragement for her, she didn't shine much as a Libero in the tournament, even missing several saves a more experienced libero would've caught in half a second.

Kisa beat herself up over the matter. Every day until the final match of the Saga Grand Slam, the usual matchup of Lakeside vs Fuhai, Kisa trained and trained. She put up a net in her grandfather's garden and isolated herself until she was faster than lightning. Quicker reflexes, quicker reaction time, and better hits. She coated herself in dirt and mud practicing dives and worked on the basics. She would set a ball, and then run over on the opposite side of the net to receive it on her own, berating herself when she couldn't make the incredibly short window. After days' worth of practice, she was sweaty, tired, and low on morale. Her forearms were big swells of red, and each new hit hurt more than the last to perform. Her legs wobbly and weak, she fell onto the grass, watching the ball bounce off against March, scaring the poor cat out of her wits, break a potted plant on the sill, and then careen right into a garden bed, plowing and uprooting immature sprouts. Her chest heaved as her grandfather walked out, holding a tray of lemonade and shortbreads.

"My, my. Look what you've been up to." March swerved to hide behind the old man, eyeing the ball as if it might sprout legs and claws and attack her. When he moved to place the tray on the garden table, she pattered after him quickly, her tail still lashing with puffed up fur.

"Grandpa, I'm sor-" She said after realizing the damage she'd created.

"Oh, now don't you worry about it," He said, swiping a wrinkled hand in dismissal, "That bed was due for replanting anyways. Come, sit."

He patted the chair opposite of him, then sat with a grumbling sigh, his old bones finally getting some respite. Even if he tired, Kisa didn't see him wasting away on the sofa with a remote in his hand. He was always up and about, even when Kisa offered to take some of the chores off his shoulders so he could get some much-needed rest. In that same way, they were both too stubborn for their own good.

But Kisa didn't refuse, getting up off the ground, her knee-high socks, sweat streaked shirt, and shorts soaked with the green of grass stains. She sat in the white seat, and then slumped from exhaustion, her chest beating furiously. Sweat beaded down her head, her orange hair sticking to it, and shooting up messily. She blew a breath out, trying to blow her hair out of her face as her grandfather poured two glasses from the pitcher of lemonade, and gave her a small plate of shortbreads.

"If you continue to kill yourself working at this, and believe you me I have no way of convincing you otherwise, you'll need to keep your energy up."

"I need to get better." Kisa stressed, feeling as though she needed to explain herself and justify her actions, "If I don't get better..."

She paused for a second, then concluded. "Lakeside will lose its streak."

But her grandfather simply sipped his lemonade, shook his head, and put the glass back down. "Kisa, it's about your team, not your streak."

Once again, her grandfather had been able to read her like a book. She didn't know why she wouldn't admit it to him. Maybe because she'd experienced Fuhai's mean spirited streak, their way of mocking the friendship driven, fun loving Lakeside, who simply played because they enjoyed the sport. They'd been looked down upon, and at some point, Kisa had been lost in that rhythm, believing her true intentions to be a show of weakness.

"I know you. You don't want to let your team down."

Kisa shook her head. "They're all so good at what they do. I don't want to be their weak link. If I lose this tournament for us, they'll all be disappointed. I can't do that to them. They helped me get here, get on the team. If I fail them..."

"Failing won't matter to them. Will it really be a fail if you all have fun? Will it really be a fail if you've put this much effort into it?" Her grandfather gestured around them. To Kisa's dirtied clothes of sweat and grass stains, to the broken pottery, the wrecked garden bed, and the makeshift court she'd put up in the garden. "They'll care more about everything that you've strived to accomplish, the work and dedication you've shown, rather than the outcome of one game."

Kisa sat back, letting the guidance set in. A cooling breeze came in, blowing her hair and letting the wind chimes sing their soft tune. A peace settled over her, an acceptance of her past failures and future missteps, and an acknowledgement of everything she'd tried to achieve. She knew Theodore would not fault her. Nor would their opposite hitter, Taketa Suzuki, fault her should the outcome of the final match not be in their favor. The entire team would celebrate that they made it to the finals, rather than any failure that came up. Because to them, nothing was a failure so long as you had fun.

"Thanks, Grandpa." Kisa said. She swung down her lemonade and shoveled her plate of shortbread cookies into her mouth. Feeling rejuvenated, she got up from her chair, and went to pick up the volleyball. She placed it within her nondominant hand, curling up the fingers in her dominant hand inwards. Taking a step forward, she put enough force into hitting the ball with her dominant hand to set it over the net. Then, like a hitter up to bat, she raced forward as the ball released into the sky. Sprinting over to the opposite court, leaping like a tiger and striking like lightning, she hit the ball back up to the sky before it could touch the ground with her forearms. She stared as the ball struck true, striking the side of the net she'd started on and rolling back an inch. Her still shock turned to an eruption of elated joy. She'd done it! She'd succeeded in passing the small window of time, setting the ball and then hopping over to the other side of the net to receive it. She didn't know if such a thing was easy for other players to do, but she didn't care about the other players now. She cared about her own achievements, what she'd been able to accomplish.

Kisa looked down to her legs, seeing March rubbing up against her them, purring to the victory, like a stadium full of cheering spectators. When she looked back to her grandfather, he was staring on with a look of pride. Not because she had managed what she'd achieved, but because she'd done it by taking a step back from the situation. And because when he stared at her with his expression of pride, Kisa mirrored the same. She was proud of her achievement, rather than dwelling on her shortcomings. And that was the greatest gift the old man could ever hope for his granddaughter.

A few days later, and Kisa would be taking that mentality to the final match of the Saga Grand Slam. The faceoff between the two powerhouses, Lakeside and Fuhai. As per usual, it was a close match. It was always a show between them, but this year no one had gotten any advances. They stayed neck and neck down to the last volley, each team winning two sets and neck and neck on points in their last. 14 to 14, Lakeside to Fuhai. Everyone was sweaty and heaving, but they thrived under the stress and challenge of competition. The Fuhai side was mean and scary, but Lakeside wasn't letting up. Theodore had made the decision to sub Kisa in for himself last minute. On the court, their roles seemed to be reversed. Theodore was entirely confident on the play, while Kisa kept her doubts and reservations. But he assured her it would work, and they swapped camera for court, as Kisa was still in the photography club, getting action shots while she warmed the bench as a libero. That also meant nearly no one knew of her. Barely any photos of her playing reached any schools, let alone her own. Trading the tall, impenetrable wall that was Theodore, for this smaller, orange haired, freckled girl. The geeky girl who usually warmed the bench with a camera. Easy, they thought.

Taketa won them a point, saving a ball she tried for and fumbled. He gave her a pat on the shoulder and a nod. Her fists clenched at her side, her body on fire as she could feel what seemed like hundreds of eyes burning into her. The flames of Fuhai licked at her, threatening to burn her to nothing but ash. She could feel their greedy little eyes on her, begging her to mess up again for her team. She could see their lip movements, guessing what they were saying. That it would be an easy victory. That Theodore and the rest were fools to take her into the team. She bent herself down, watching the ball like a hawk. Lakeside started the rally, 15 to 14, setting it over the net. It went back and forth, muscles tensing and releasing to grab the ball and hit it over the net. This next point could mean victory for Lakeside, or more of that same awful stalemate between the two warring schools. The rally seemed to go on forever, endless hits back and forth, and Kisa didn't see a time she was needed. Until one of Fuhai's best players sent an unhittable shot. It flashed as fast as lightning, but Kisa's legs set in motion. It would be impossible, it was on the other side of the court, and no one was in line to be able to hit it back over. But she'd rehearsed with split second windows. Her sneakers squeaked on the court as she lunged forward. Her stomach struck the ground hard, but it didn't matter as she felt that familiar force to her forearms, and the redness got a tiny bit redder. Her face moved up in time to see it hurl over the net and whizz right past Fuhai's team captain, the one who had issued the impossible volley. It struck in, and the whistle blew, declaring a 16 to 14 victory for Lakeside. Taketa helped pull her up, giving a good slap to her back as the team crowded her, screaming the freshman libero's name.

Their captain came back and handed Kisa her camera. A blurry action shot loomed on the display, the whizz of flying short orange hair and familiar freckles. A blurry still of her dive, the winning shot of the game, the ball just starting to fly from her reddened forearms. "Sorry, it was the best I could do."

"No, it's perfect." Kisa responded. She'd keep that photo forever, a way to remember the match and the start of her name in the volleyball world.

It was a name that angered Fuhai, the freshman libero, new to the sport, but able to parry a hit that should've struck the court. And her sophomore year, in 2012, she was even better. She'd found her confidence in freshman year and took it into sophomore year, becoming a key defensive asset for her team, and an even better leader on the court. When she switched in for Theodore, their middle blocker, the team wasn't losing a leader, they were simply swapping out for another one. She was more verbal than Theodore, directing play while being there to hit anything that the others couldn't get. Theodore came up with their tactics and Kisa made sure the team saw them through. While not on the court, she was watching and learning, and using her camera to snap pictures when she could.

In another words, she'd quickly showed in the early games of her sophomore year tournament that the other teams shouldn't get cocky if they had the lead, because Theodore could call her in and flip the game right on its head. He always knew the right moment to summon her too, wherein she would strike like lightning and rip the other team apart with her defensive capabilities, saving balls and providing that extra layer of protection for the team. Because of her style of play, she quickly earned the nickname of Raiju on the court, the Thunder Tiger. She wouldn't have the benefit of staying a faceless wonder for long, as she began to become as known as the other members of her team, especially known to Fuhai's captain.

The name Kisa Satou had a legacy to it, yes, but one filled with eventual scorn. Her name is considered a stain on Lakeside's reputation within the volleyball world. It all started with her. The first hint at Lakeside's public demise, beginning with Kisa's own demise. The poor girl's condition became a way to justify the accusations of how truly awful a school Lakeside was. Kisa got pulled into the limelight she never wanted, when she really should've been resting after that fateful day.

It was the day of an early tournament match for Lakeside. Looking back on it, the whole day had been quite the blur, except for strange, vivid details. She remembered passing a group of kids from Fuhai’s team, laughing and giggling to each other, as she entered the locker room. She remembered the floor of the locker room being slippery after fixing on her sneakers. She remembered seeing a bucket and mop, thinking the room had been swiped recently. Details like these that really had no significance, not when you compared them to the day’s events. What seemed to be a small, insignificant way to rig Kisa's performance, became much bigger than anyone could've ever imagined.

The game had gone on as per usual. Her and the rest of the team savored in the fun of playing in the tournament. As always, they simply enjoyed being there, a part of the action and buzzing fun of volleyball. But for others it was a way to satiate a hungry competitive appetite. The only thing unusual about the early game in the tournament was Kisa's performance. She didn't carry the usual grace and purpose she did in previous games. It was almost like Kisa regressed in skill. She slid all over the court. A couple of times she lost Lakeside a point because she'd slid past the ball when she knew she'd perfectly timed her dive. Another time, the slip actually helped fix her posture on a return she should've missed; however, it was one positive on top of a ton of negatives that piled up. Theodore made the decision to take her out of the court, thinking she needed to take a minute to cool down on the bench before she could go back on.

They made some headway in the game with Theodore back as their unstoppable middle blocker, but they just couldn't catch up when it came to points. The other team was getting close to fifteen, and they already had their two-point difference on Lakeside. They needed the extra security that Kisa could provide. They already had too many subs to allow their DS to play, and Kisa had the better leadership skills anyways. Theodore ended up picking their libero over their defensive specialist because of that. Kisa could help bring up the passing and communication, and she was extremely skilled at digging and diving for fast paced balls meant to normally hit the court. She was their best pick right now, even with her shoddy performance when she'd been called in for the beginning of the match. But ultimately, that decision would come to be regretted.

Kisa had been ready to intercept another impossible volley sent her way. She was slightly bent, her arms moving to lock in for a bump, one that would either be a great set up for a spike, or a hit that would receive the ball and send it back over. She called it out audibly, the words coming naturally as she called the ball as her own. She rushed forward to get it perfectly lined up, but as the ball came down, so did she. Her feet slid once more, until they were in the air and a second later, her body lying cold on the ground, the ball dribbling beside her before shriveling to a halt, as if it realized something was horribly wrong. The others were in shock, just as she was, before her team came running over to her. She could hear Theodore's shrill voice pierce her ears, the not usually audible player calling out for help now that his childhood best friend was lying on the floor in a daze, half conscious but not receptive. It was an out of body experience for her. She could hear what was happening around almost as if she were watching it. Her eyes lulled, her sight blackened into fuzzy shadow, and sounds pitched towards her ears with an added buzz. She could hear gasps and concerned whispering, and Taketa raising his voice for paramedics, amplifying Theodore's request. Her teammates shook her, trying to get a response, but her mind was in just as much shock. Pain raced up her back too fierce for her mind to focus on speech or thought. It could only focus on the intenseness of pain shooting up and down her back, and the dull feeling in her legs. Not dull, just no feeling at all.

"I can't move."

That was the only thing she'd managed to murmur out before she was taken away on a stretcher, the game ceasing play and postponed for a later date, all progress irradicated. In some twisted, ironic way, Kisa did save Lakeside from a losing game, just not in the way the others expected.

The following few days were a mess. She'd spent time in the hospital so doctors could observe her. X-rays and exercises later, they'd figured out that she'd hit the top of her spine hard on her slip and fall, which had prohibited everything below from working properly. In other words, they diagnosed her with paraplegia. A complete loss of feeling and functionality in her legs. They started her on physical therapy early, and medications on top of that. They said because they'd started treating it early, that there was a higher success rate that feeling would come back into her legs. That she'd be able to stretch distances as fast as she once did, traveling the court for passes and digs and dives. But all that served to do was give her false hope, while she knew what the doctors whispered about. She made no progress in physical therapy, and they'd set her up in a wheelchair. She didn't show much hope, not like the team did.

When the doctors gave the ok for Kisa to be visited by others outside of her family, thinking her health ok for the visits and her mental state needing a pick me up, her teammates came flocking to visit her. With them came get well gifts and words of encouragement, but nothing seemed to really help her. Her teammates noticed she was more reserved than usual, quieter than the Kisa who got pumped up for matches and shouted to direct her teammates while on the court. The only thing that seemed to cheer her up even a little was news about new games and Lakeside crushing the early games. Though her pleasure came with a bittersweet note, knowing she would never be able to play on the court again. With everything going on, it seemed like she'd lost all hope for a recovery.

While her team had stopped by to give her support, her parents had rushed from Tokyo to visit her as well, even though she hadn't lived with them for a few years now, and they only visited rural Saga occasionally to check up on her. They had the balls to go yelling at her sweet grandfather for the injury, saying he should've never let her play in the first place. She could hear their yelling match from out in the hall when they'd come to visit, Kisa's only comfort being plugging her ears and taking up fistfuls of March's fur in her hospital bed. She could hear them still, talking about taking Kisa back to Tokyo for better treatment than a rural hospital could provide. They certainly didn't want her to live with her grandfather after all of this. Kisa disagreed with them on every notion and excuse they made up to take her back to Tokyo with them. Her grandfather tried to oppose them, saying everything Kisa loved was here. Her school, her friends, her life. It was all here in Saga. But at the end of the day, her grandfather was not Kisa's parents, nor was he her legal guardian. Her parents got the final decision, and they seemed dead set on moving her back to the skyscrapers and roaring streets of Tokyo. She could still remember the buzzing, loud night, and for once the thought of it made her crawl out of her skin.

After weeks of physical therapy, Kisa started declining. Nothing was set in stone yet, so her parents kept her at her current hospital for treatment, but nothing was helping her. Eventually, even her old team visiting became another reminder of her loss. Even with their sweet visits, Theodore's gifts of art hanging up on her room's wall and their kind words to push her on, she just couldn't take it. Eventually, she started pushing them away. She became cold and distant, and told them to leave her alone. She regretted taking it out on them the very moment she did, the team being her dear friends, but her frustration and sadness was welling up inside of her with no escape. It clawed and ripped at her heart, making her do unbearable things until she was alone in her fight. She didn't know if her friends stopped coming around because they now hated her, or because they respected her wishes. Either way, the new emotion of guilt wormed its way into her heart, coming with it the bottomless well of regret.

Kisa had gone back to live at the Tora Cafe after they determined she was well enough to go home, although home really didn't feel the same. The walls looked bleak even though they were colorful. She felt trapped, caged, and claustrophobic. She spent most of her time out in the garden because of how much she came to hate enclosed spaces, the rooms and walls making her feel even more trapped than she already felt. She could no longer help at the cafe. Rather, she didn't feel she could. Her wheelchair would get in the way in the kitchen, and she knew the customers would stare at her like an interesting new specimen. The only thing that stayed the same was her camera. She could still capture beautiful pictures even with her injury, and she started drifting from her old passions into photography.

The Cafe lost their hostess for a while after Kisa came home. March could just sense something off with her, and the wheelchair didn't seem to scare the cat. Maye she was more attuned to Kisa's injuries because she had some of her own. A scarred eye and an occasional limp in her leg made her sympathetic to Kisa's own injuries, and March often spent her time cuddling up to Kisa in her lap rather than greeting the customers eager to give her pets and treats. Having the cat around her gave Kisa a sense of comfort surrounding her injury. She provided a means of support for Kisa when she was at one of her lowest points. The cat helped her escape the worries of her new troubles, her paralyzed legs and the threat of a move, and helped her relax in a time of high stress.

Everything came to be decided for her, her word meaning nothing even when she tried to speak up. She hated the arrangement they'd come up with, but it was better than an immediate move. She'd continue the year in Saga, and stay for another two, to finish out her high school education at Lakeside, where all her distant friends were. Her parents would've much rathered a private school in Tokyo, but they "sacrificed" that dream for Kisa's wellbeing. Meanwhile, they'd come for more frequent check-ups, while giving her grandfather the cold shoulder on their visits. The word volleyball wasn't supposed to ever be uttered in their presence, and they'd insisted upon Kisa getting rid of her old sports equipment. Of course, they'd made a big show of doing so, but her grandfather secretly saved the stuff, understanding Kisa would still want her old jersey and volleyballs. After all, even if volleyball had caused the injury, Kisa still showed a great deal of interest in the sport. She continued to watch the Olympic volleyball tournaments, and even begged her grandfather to wheel her into the gym whenever Lakeside had a game. She tried to avoid her old team as much as possible, feeling incredibly guilty about everything. She didn't know if any of them had seen her off to the side, sitting in a wheelchair and watching with that same bit of excitement she'd always had for the game. Besides, she had photography club. She couldn't not go to the games to take pictures whenever they assigned the task to her. If they read the school's newspaper, and saw her name credited to the pictures, they'd definitely know she'd come around to watch and cheer for them. And with her taking up an interest in writing and journalism, typing up the sports column, her name was more at the forefront than ever on the school's newspaper. Some people sneered at her for it, thought it ironic that the kid who got an injury playing volleyball and left Lakeside's team without a libero would handle the coverage of the volleyball tournament, but for once Kisa's spirits were high enough not to let those words bother her. The doctors had started her on a journal for writing her thoughts, where she could stitch in a picture she took and write about her day or put together poems. It ended up giving her something to do that kept her busy and not thinking about her injury. Most of all, it gave her some confidence back. Writing, along with taking pictures, was something she could still do even with her injury. She didn't know how her old teammates would receive it, but she hoped they didn't completely hate her after everything that happened. Her yelling at them, plus leaving the team vulnerable without a proper libero. She felt insanely guilty for any drop in performance they showed in the columns, that she had to report on and show the entire school how Lakeside's volleyball team, and all their sports teams, were becoming weaker and weaker.

Lakeside's position in the tournament was rough. Kisa's injury and defection from the team left Lakeside scrambling to find another libero or risk disqualification. The person they did find to act as their libero for the rest of the tournament wasn't as experienced as Kisa and had not yet built-up talent. The team's biggest rival took great advantage of the switch in libero's, providing a disadvantage to Lakeside in every game. They hadn't built up teamwork with the new libero, and the system they'd used before with Kisa taking charge while on the court soon started to crumble, failing them in later games. Every time Kisa went to a game to see her former team beat down, soaking wet in sweat and stress, she felt endless amounts of guilt. But she smiled upon their performance, their wide smiles and shining eyes. Even if they were to lose, Lakeside soaked it all up, loving the game for what it was. It made Kisa realize once more why she'd loved the team, the people in it, and everything about volleyball.

Even though her love for volleyball remained bittersweet. Even though she pushed herself down, telling herself she no longer had a place on the court. They would never let a wheelchair bound kid play on a court with other able-bodied kids. How would that even work? There were no regulations for it. Kisa knew they made wheelchairs intended for sports, but that was with other wheelchair users, not with people who could still stand on both legs. What if the other kids got hurt because of her wheelchair? The school used all those reasons to deny Kisa back onto the court, back when her team had gone to the school's administration to beg them to allow Kisa to play once more. They told her they wouldn't stop fighting until the school allowed it, but the team was already on thin ice as it was, and Kisa had been at an emotional low. That was one of things she'd yelled at them about, to stop trying, because Kisa herself believed all of those things they said. People with disabilities had no place on an able-bodied court, after all. That's what she'd come to believe. She had no right to be back on the court, but she still came to every game to soak up the movements of the players and immerse herself in the world she thought she could no longer be in. And eventually, her despair over Lakeside's situation, and her guilt over leaving her team had culminated into one final game. The usual, Lakeside versus their old enemy Fuhai. Except it wasn't the usual.

"Saga Grand Slam: Lakeside Gives up its Long-Held Crown to Fuhai"

Kisa typed out the header bitterly. The light of her computer burned her eyes as she stared at the header with disdain. March laid sprawled out behind her computer, her tail flicking to and fro with her back up against the computer. She knew better than to sit on the keyboard when Kisa was preparing for a long night to prepare the column for the next issue of the school's paper, so she settled for the warm back of the computer, sweeping her fluffy tail across Kisa's hands that hovered over the keyboard without direction. Her body would've tensed up, except only her upper body's muscles could. Her head turned to the display on her camera showing the final shot of the game. Both teams in action, but Lakeside couldn't save the ball, and it was the final point Fuhai needed to win. It was a great picture, a crystal-clear show of Lakeside's defeat. She'd watched Lakeside's team, her team, fall right in front of her. She kept thinking that, if she were there to help, things would've been different. The thought wasn't born out of an overconfidence in her ability, it was about letting herself lay in the deep well of guilt she continued to hold onto. Lakeside had lost its winning streak to its greatest rival, something that had cost the team its life in the coming year.

Kisa jumped in her wheelchair as soon as she heard the announcement. Lakeside's volleyball team would be disbanded, as well as all its other sports programs. The money used to power those would go to academic study. The newspaper would get better equipment, better cameras, more lenses. They'd no longer be forced to continue to use old equipment because there'd be more room in the budget for it. But how could she be happy about that? The volleyball team, some of the most important people to her, had to deal with losing their outlet for an activity they truly enjoyed. Other teams would have to experience the same. Kisa couldn't be happy about Lakeside High losing all sports, because it was also a loss for her. Even if she couldn't play, it still made her happy to see her old team at it, playing with all their hearts. 2012 was the last tournament Lakeside would play in, and 2013 was the death of volleyball, and all other sports in the school. Kisa would have to part with volleyball yet again.

For the next two years, Kisa's school experience had been balanced on academics and non-sport based extracurriculars. She was a smart girl and the environment nourished her, even with the stares she got as the only wheelchair user in the school. Time passed, time spent mostly trying to avoid her old friends at all costs, even if she wanted to apologize to them, and soon enough it was graduation. Most highschoolers love graduation day, love getting out of school, but Kisa found it dreadful. After all, it marked the end of her time in Saga. After graduation, it was packing up her room and saying goodbye to everything she loved. She felt trapped, unable to make her own decisions, and forced to move away from the prefecture she'd grown to love. Her parents said it was the right thing to do. They made her believe moving to Tokyo, again, would do her good. So, she went along with the decision, even if she was leaving behind the place she loved. But after graduation, before her move, her grandfather had given her a graduation gift. A sports wheelchair, one she could use for volleyball. He reminded her that playing volleyball hadn't ended with her injury, something she needed to hear. She wasn't sure about using it just yet, but she was glad she had it, and immensely thankful for the gift. She gave her grandfather a hug, March one last scratch behind the ears, and left with her parents for Tokyo.

Kisa went to college in Tokyo, majoring in journalism, but her direction in life still hadn't felt right. She'd often turn from her computer, writing an assignment for college, to look at the sports wheelchair her grandfather had gifted her. She wondered if she was making the right decision. Her college essay had taken a dive into impaired sports, and the inclusion of impaired people in the Olympics. She'd come to enjoy learning about the Paralympics, Olympic games for impaired people. Her grandfather had been right, her injury really hadn't stopped her volleyball career. Maybe it limited her to a certain degree, but things didn't have to completely end.

Kisa continued on with journalism, even if she realized she could still play sports. There were too many factors that limited her at the moment, and it felt too late to change her career now. Especially to something she wasn't even sure would be stable. Freshly out of college, Kisa found a job at a news agency, typing up articles to post on their website. She frequently strove to get sports assignments. She'd do anything. Basketball, football, hockey. She'd cover any sport, but bonus points if it was volleyball related news. Sadly, the job was insanely competitive, and half the time she was writing about stuff she didn't even agree with, nor liked. She felt trapped and confined, wheeling around in the same circle day in and day out. Since her injury, she just didn't have the same confidence she used to to fight for the stories she wanted. A few years at the job and she just couldn't do it anymore. Eventually, she decided to take her life into her own hands. She called her grandfather, wishing for a change in scenery. She wanted to go home.

When she arrived back in Saga, she was greeted with the same scene as when she was twelve, except she was now an adult in a wheelchair. She could see her grandfather, even older now, tending to the garden she remembered so fondly. She missed the sweet air and the soft breeze, and the buzz of nothing but nature. March gave a sweet meow and bounded forward, grabbing her grandfather's attention. She jumped up into her lap and purred like a radiator. Her grandfather smiled, coming to greet her. They hadn't seen each other in a while, talking regularly on the phone with only a few sparse visits. But she wasn't coming back to the same carefree environment, as her grandfather had troubles of his own.

The Tora Cafe was straddled for cash, and her grandfather hadn't even told her. Her parents, with all their money from their good paying jobs, certainly weren't going to help out her grandfather on that front, even if their cushy city jobs gave them well than enough money to help support him for a little while. No, they were still bitter about Kisa's injury, believing her grandfather to be the root cause of it. And if Kisa were being really honest, she was bitter too. About her parents uprooting her life in Saga and totting her back to Tokyo where she was basically getting taken care of by a nanny as a young adult. She could provide for herself even if she was now wheelchair bound. She'd learned solutions to live life with her disability, even if some things seemed unconventional to able bodied people. She knew then that if her parents weren't going to help her grandfather, then she had to step up, or rather wheel up, and help the man who had been supporting her for years. So, she quit her job in Tokyo to come back to Saga, picking up odd jobs while helping out at the cafe.

Being back here now, working as a waitress and moving back into her old room felt like she was traveling back in time. Her grandfather hadn't changed anything about her room, so it was like a time machine taking her back to her high school years. But if she were to support her grandfather, she needed to be less helpless than she was in high school. She needed to get a job, a good paying one that could keep the cafe afloat. Severely burnt out on writing and journalism, she started freelancing her photography services, but even that wasn't pulling in enough money. She needed a permanent job, and some retail job at a convenience store wasn't gonna cut it. Kisa once again turned to the sports wheelchair she'd never used, a reminder that sports could still be a part of her life. She decided then how she would get back into sports. She'd find a position as an assistant coach and teach kids with the same passion she held for volleyball. Theodore always used to say how good she was at guiding the other members of their team to execute a play he'd created. Now she'd just be doing that as the mentor to highschoolers. She was so excited about the plan, not letting her disability stop her, that she forgot about how others would perceive her. A wheelchair bound assistant coach. Now that was something you don't see every day.

Kisa went to Meiwa first, but Meiwa would've cut her if she had been a player, doubtful that she could provide any kind of strategic help to the team. It had been a while, after all, since she'd been involved with volleyball. Too rusty for the coach's like. In a similar way, how could Taku accept her? The coach slamming the door on the way out in outrage of the very idea of her becoming his assistant coach. Tenshi was a complete no-go. Kisa couldn't lead workouts or help them train physically. And besides, Tenshi already had two coaches, making Kisa's presence as an assistant coach unnecessary. And finally, Fuhai. Openly mocking her, sneering in her face and laughing about the idea of having a wheelchair-bound assistant coach. The most she'd be able to do was serve tea, they mocked, unwilling to believe in her despite her disability. And with the final denial, all hope seemed lost to her.

Kisa thought she'd just have to make do with whatever odd jobs she could find, until she saw a flyer. She couldn't believe her eyes. Lakeside was looking for an assistant coach for their volleyball team, the school that had practically banned athletics all together. When she read the flyer further, some more things were made clear for her. Lakeside had just started their team this year, which meant the volleyball team was probably the only sport they had to date. It was a mixed-sex team, needing players and an assistant coach. And probably the reason why they hadn't found anybody yet, there was absolutely no pay involved. It would be more like volunteer work than a job, because the school wished to see results first after the disaster that became Lakeside's sports program in the past. But that didn't matter to her, someone who simply loved the sport, and wanted to see kids at Lakeside have a proper sports outlet. Even if it meant journeying to the site of her injury, she took the flyer and went to meet the coach, and the boy who started it all.

Immediately, upon wheeling into the gym, Kisa was hit with a fresh wave of nostalgia, and a twist in her gut. The gym had definitely taken a beating since she had gone here, but the two had started work to getting it up and running again. It was dusty and the equipment taken out was either deflated or chewed up by moths. She could see a volleyball net sprawled out on the floor, tangled up and with a hole in it. One of the boys, a tall guy, but still not Theodore tall, with black hair sat with new net, trying to stitch up the hole so they wouldn't need to buy a new one with their own money. As far as Kisa knew, the school hadn't given them a budget at all. And this was definitely not how the old team left their equipment.

The other boy, slightly smaller than the first one she'd seen, came out holding volleyballs filled with so much helium they looked like they were about to pop like balloons. He carried a couple more that looked to be deflated, one even carrying a large hole in it that looked like it had been caused by tiny claws and teeth. But the thing that shocked her wasn't the volleyballs he carried with him. It was his brown skin and white hair, so familiar to her it was like she was seeing a ghost. Her mouth dropped to the floor. She just couldn't believe it.

"Alright, I blew up the volleyballs I could salvage." He told the other boy, "Though, I think the school has a rat infestation, and I think those rats really liked this deflated volleyball as their home. They left a bit of a mess we should clean up in the storage room as-"

He cut himself as one of the volleyballs escaped from his grasp, bouncing all the way over to stop at the footrest to Kisa's wheelchair. "Taketa?" She asked as the boy turned to reveal his face. He wasn't Taketa, he was much too young, and his face carried a different look, but she could also see so much resemblance between this kid and the opposite hitter she'd known before.

"Uh, that's my older brother." At this point, the other boy turned his ice blue eyes on Kisa, following the events as the boy who looked like Taketa strode over, "I'm-"

"Akito." Kisa said as the realization hit her. Akito was Taketa's younger brother who would come to every single game to cheer his big brother on. He was such a cute kid, and strayed to the team's bench rather than where he was supposed to be on the bleachers so that he could watch the action and see his brother. But the team didn't mind him sitting on the bench with them as an honorary member of the team. In fact, they quite often teased Taketa about his little fan. And as a libero, Kisa often spent the most time on the bench, meaning she got the pleasure of interacting with Akito the most. They'd talk and Kisa would explain rules and anything Akito didn't already understand about the sport. And she even let him mess around with her camera, taking shots of his older brother as he performed. She always wondered if her absence on the bench had been explained to him, because her last game had basically been the last time they'd seen each other.

"Kisa?" Akito said, as the same sort of realization hit him. She nodded, and soon enough they got to chatting like old friends. She asked about Taketa, and about Akito's role in renewing the team. They talked and caught up on how each of them was doing. Eventually, the other boy came up, completely confused and mystified by the conversation. Akito introduced him as Kazuki Ishioka, the team's coach, which then led to explaining that the school hadn't given them so much as one yen for a budget, so Kazuki was another student serving as their coach for now. A good segway for Kisa to reveal her true purpose for coming here, signing up as Lakeside's assistant coach. She explained about her paraplegia and that she had a sports wheelchair she could use for drills and whatnot. Even if the other boy was a little skeptical, Akito practically insisted upon the matter. No interview, no persecution. Akito actually wanted her as the team's assistant coach. It warmed her heart and reminded her of the little boy who used to sit with her on the bench and share his own budding passion for the sport.

With Akito there, and Kazuki taking up a position as her mentor in a weird but warm way, Kisa started slowly gaining back her confidence in her ability, a thing she'd lacked for years since her injury. A convenience store job and freelance camera work could cut it for now. Even if she wasn't getting paid, Kisa felt a joy she hadn't managed to find in years. And if she could really do it. If she could work hard to guide Lakeside to victory in the upcoming annual Saga Grand Slam, then she would gain an official position and salary. For now, she was back at her old stomping grounds, facing down every challenge that had come to greet her during her time at Lakeside. She was making up for her mistakes and growing a fire in her belly. She'd show others that her disability didn't define her, and that she did have a place on this court.

Likes: Cats- The Outdoors- Photography-Scenery-Tigers-Baking

Dislikes: Ignorance-Disability Coddling-Enclosed Spaces

Positive Trait- Kisa often finds creative solutions for problems that no one would ever think about. Born from her having to adjust from her disability, she is an endlessly creative person when it comes to problem solving. One time she created a surfboard with wheels that she could roll around on so she could still garden even with her paralysis.

Negative Trait- Kisa has little confidence in her abilities, which leads to her doubting herself extensively. She assumes she will fail at something, so she often doesn't even try. She needs someone to push her to try things and find her confidence.

Position: Assistant Coach
What school they attend: Lakeside
Height: 5'6 (When she's standing. She'll normally be in her wheelchair which will shave off about a quarter of her usual height)
Weight: 128 Ibs​

 

[SharkBark]

The Coaches of Pass, Set, and Spike!​

• Meiwa
• Taku

• 
  
  Eto

  Misaki

  "No matter what kind of life you have, you'll always make mistakes; I've done it millions of times. It's part of life, something everyone has experienced. But once I make a mistake, I know I have two options. One, I can let it get to me and berate myself, which will eventually haunt me my entire life. Many people pick this option in a heartbeat, and so have I in the past. I regret those decisions to this day. But then there's option two. I acknowledge that I've messed up and think, "What can I do better next time?" Then, I take the initiative and train myself so it never happens again. So when I scold you for an error or you trip up in front of these people, I want you to always choose option two. Don't even think about it. Pick yourself up and improve from that blunder." - Eto Misaki to Meiwa's 2013-14 team.

  01

  basic information

  name

  Eto Misaki

  nickname

  The Saga Prefecture Cutter (by players and students)

  gender

  Female

  age

  32

  date of birth

  April 8th, 1991

  position

  Head Coach

  years working

  12 (2011 - present)

  02

  appearance

  height

  5'5

  hair

  Eto's hair is a jet-black shade and is long enough to brush against her upper back when let down.

  eyes

  Eto's beautiful purple eyes are a result of her colored contacts, which she wears to avoid having to put on glasses. She got them colored because they thinks they look cool.

  
  "No matter what kind of life you have, you'll always make mistakes; I've done it millions of times. It's part of life, something everyone has experienced. But once I make a mistake, I know I have two options. One, I can let it get to me and berate myself, which will eventually haunt me my entire life. Many people pick this option in a heartbeat, and so have I in the past. I regret those decisions to this day. But then there's option two. I acknowledge that I've messed up and think, "What can I do better next time?" Then, I take the initiative and train myself so it never happens again. So when I scold you for an error or you trip up in front of these people, I want you to always choose option two. Don't even think about it. Pick yourself up and improve from that blunder." - Eto

  03

  personality

  Eto is sharp and strict, often throwing around commands and criticism. She's also an extreme perfectionist; Eto constantly tries to make sure that something is flawless, especially the skill of her team and their strategizing. And when things aren't going well, she cuts players. Because of this, Eto was deemed "The Saga Prefecture Cutter." Over the 12 years that Eto has been head coach, she's cut over 35 players from her roster. There have been many complaints to Meiwa's administration and school board about her, but they've never taken action. Why? Because of her capabilities.
  
  Eto is an expert strategist and has gotten the school to the finals three times due to her talent. Even though Meiwa lost to Fuhai each time, they still put up a fantastic fight to get there. She would create a counter, whether for teams or specific players, and completely ruin the opposing team's plan, destroying their coordination. Eto is also adept at developing tactics to score points and keep the ball up. Like an eagle, she notices and pays attention to everything. Single. Detail. Where the players are lined up, how fast a player's approach is, where their shoulder is facing, where to put a defensive player, what kind of attack to do, a player's demeanor, where to place the block—everything. Rarely do any secret strategies get past her, as she knows almost every single one possible. So, despite her constant cutting and harsh decisions, Eto has kept her spot as Meiwa's coach.
  
  The one thing that she struggles to defend against is unpredictability. Sudden changes in movement or rarely performed attacks catch her off guard, almost always leading to Meiwa losing a rally. The rest of the big five, Taku, Fuhai, Tenshi, and the once-powerful Lakeside, all have this advantage over her. Taku's plays outsmart her, Tenshi's players hit the ball in unimaginable ways, Fuhai is superior in all categories, and the former Lakeside player's heart, drive, and versatility exceed her expectations every single time. So it's no surprise that Meiwa has lost to these teams before.
  
  
  Outside of the sport, Eto is much more tolerable. After winning a game, she takes her team out for something to eat, occasionally spoiling them and complimenting their performance. After losses, she sits them down, points out their mistakes, and tells them what to improve on. In her day-to-day life, Eto works as an accountant as a side hustle. Her keen cognitive skills and processing abilities are useful in crunching numbers and providing financial assessments. Here, Eto isn't as harsh. And this is the real world, so there isn't any cutting of players whenever they begin to perform poorly. Unless she becomes the leader of the company, then she'll be firing people left and right.

  04

  backstory

  
  Growing up, Eto was always the last one standing in many situations. In spelling bees, staring contests, tag, but especially in volleyball, she'd always find herself victorious and alone. The people around her were together, but defeated. Some would call this skill or superiority for Eto. But in her eyes, this was a blessing and a curse.
  
  Eto was born and raised in Saitama, Japan. Her father, Koji, was a tour guide who showed tourists around the prefecture and let Eto tag along most of the time. Her mother, Rin, was a well-known sports coach. In her coaching career, Eto's mother did everything to bring the best out of her teams. The basketball players hooped for hours a day, practicing various drills; the soccer teams dribbled and kicked like their lives depended on it; and the volleyball team dove, spiked, set, and received until their arms felt like they would fall off.
  
  And by the time Eto was 9, her mother wanted her to play for one of her teams someday. But because of how harsh the training was, the girl was scared and refused to join them. Eto's mother was disappointed by her lack of enthusiasm, but refused to quit. She kept yelling at her daughter to join the team and eventually, Eto's fear became too overwhelming and she joined the volleyball team. From then on, she trained with her mother and the team, learning the fundamentals of the game.
  
  And just as she suspected, this experience was hellish. Eto found herself transitioning from sleeping in until late in the afternoon and playing on her Nintendo to getting up at the crack of dawn and jogging for miles at a time. And even after she finished them and was drenched in sweat, her breathing rapid, her mother would only give them five minutes before the team had to start drills. Practicing diving everywhere, attacking from all sorts of spots on the court, receiving balls until they crashed to the ground. It was a complete shift from Eto's lazy day-to-day life, and she hated every minute of it.
  
  One day, Eto missed a game because of an illness, and the team did absolutely horrible. They lost both sets and were dominated by the opposing team. This had never happened while Eto was in the game, which had Rin come to the assumption that Eto was the only competent player on the team, when in reality, the team they faced was just superior. Out of irritation, Eto's mother cut every other player besides her off the team, leaving her alone. Her teammates were baffled by such a reckless decision, but Rin showed no signs of changing her mind.
  
  In that moment, Eto felt out of place. She was embarrassed and ashamed of her mother's actions. She wanted to sink into the ground and disappear, but instead Eto put on a brave face, even though she felt like all eyes were on her, judging her. Her team complained and asked why Eto was cut as well. Her mother answered, "because she's the only good player on this team." Eto smiled, but inside she felt like she was going to cry. She was proud of her mother's words, but she also felt embarrassed and ashamed of the attention. She wanted to run away, but she forced herself to stay.
  
  This brought forth jealousy from her peers. Even at school they'd tell her, "the only reason you're still on the team is because you're the coach's daughter." And the girls who once were her friends became her enemies.
  
  Because Eto was the only player on the team for a while, she was pushed to her limits. She felt like she was running on fumes at the end of practice. Her mother would not let up, demanding that she give her all in each drill and not take any shortcuts. Despite her exhaustion, she was still expected to maintain her focus and intensity throughout practice. And because of this extra pressure on her, Eto quickly surpassed her new teammates, becoming the most valuable player on the team.
  
  Her mother was proud of her success and praised her daughter, but she never acknowledged how the girl felt about all of this. Though she enjoyed the game, Eto resented her mother for forcing her through all of this. None of this was her choice. Instead of feeling like an exceptional player, Eto felt like a product of her mother's projected desires, and so, things became tense between them outside of the game. Dinner was either Eto speaking only to her father or not speaking at all; Eto turned down every invitation to spend time together her mother offered, and she even went as far as to avoid eye contact with her. She ignored her mother, just as she had entirely ignored her daughter's feelings. Eto had been so frustrated with her mother's expectations that she avoided maintaining any kind of meaningful relationship with her.
  
  And over the years, Eto's skills increased. She won many MVP and Setter of the Year awards, all due to her mother's training. And because of this, her relationship with her continued to deteriorate. Rin realized years ago that her daughter hated her, but now she felt it too much. She did all sorts of things to try to get even the slightest bit of Eto's attention. Gift giving, compliments, putting her in situations where it was just the two of them. But nothing worked, which brewed up anger in Rin, which she ended up taking out on Koji. Eventually, Koji grew tired of Rin's constant berating and harsh demeanor so much, that he decided to divorce her. After winning custody of Eto in a court case, he relocated her to Saga Prefecture with him until he could secure her legal custody.
  
  Despite the change, Eto was happy with it. There was no question that she cared for her mother, but she was mostly concerned about her own well-being. She was glad about the change because it meant she could finally live the life she wanted. She felt relieved that she no longer had to worry about her mother's feelings and could focus solely on her own. She was ready to move forward and embrace the unknown.
  
  Even after many years had passed, Eto still played volleyball and won more awards, since she still enjoyed it as a sport. However, she also decided on going to college and obtaining a master's degree in accounting. But even though she made an adequate income and did something other than her mother forced her to do, she felt incomplete without volleyball. She hated this feeling. Eto didn't want to follow her mother's steps. However, she felt so compelled to due to all of the training and time she spent in the sport.
  
  But at some point, she realized that her mother didn't dictate her life, and she could play volleyball without her influence. Why did this have to be about her? If Eto truly wanted to have some control over her own life, then she'd have to start with defeating the strong influence her mother's ways had left on her after all of these years. She had to go out and make her own decisions, to be her own person. She had to take a stand and stand up for herself. With a newfound determination, she took control of her own life.
  
  And when she was 20, Eto decided to get into coaching and began scouting for a team to work on. That's when she found a post online for Meiwa that read, "Meiwa High School is looking for a volleyball coach! Must have at least 5 years of experience and be 20 years or older." And that very day, she walked into the school and handled the interview well. Eto spoke with confidence, gave detailed descriptions of her life and volleyball experience, and showed off her many awards that she had earned over the years. It was as if her diligent work and dedication was finally paying off - like a seed that had been planted long ago was finally blooming into a beautiful flower.
  
  Eto thought she was certain to get the job right there, but then they asked her to demonstrate her volleyball skills. She smiled smugly at this and did exactly what she did best. She played flawlessly. The recruiters were impressed with her skills and discussed them among themselves. After a short discussion, they offered her the job, and she happily accepted. She was now the newest member of the sports staff.
  
  In just her first few years of coaching, Meiwa's team became widely known and gained much attention, soon being deemed a powerhouse school. It was like Meiwa had gone from a small candle to a bright beacon of light in the sky, illuminating the entire school's name and accomplishments. And during her career, Eto saw it all. The strengths of all powerhouses, their raw power and skill. The rise and fall of Lakeside, their amazing streak and players, and events that followed. Lakeside had always been one of the rivals of Meiwa, and Eto had deep respect for their players and their coach. She had even faced them several times on the court, and each time it was a difficult game. Despite the rivalry, Eto still admired Lakeside, and she was inspired by their accomplishments. But after they fell apart, Meiwa shot up in popularity and fame.
  
  Now, Eto still coaches Meiwa after 12 years in the game. The team performed horribly last season, being eliminated in the first round. Eto was determined to turn the team around and make them successful, so she decided to start fresh and cut the entire roster. She was hoping that the new players she brought in would be more committed to the team and better able to execute her strategy. Eto now seeks an improved, refined team full of players with great potential. She's looking for athletes with the same drive, passion, and determination she once had when she was playing. She believes that if she can find these individuals, then her team will be able to perform better than it ever has before. With her as their coach, she knows they can reach their full potential.
  

  05

  Misc

  Likes:
  Animals
  Volleyball
  Boba
  Tea
  Coffee
  Writing
  Sunsets
  Fast learners
  Success
  Teaching
  Colored Contacts
  Reading
  
  Dislikes:
  Losing
  A bad volleyball team
  Slow learners
  Cutting players
  Assemblies
  Wasps
  Being lied to
  Harsh due dates
  Unpredictability

  06

  Traits

  Traits

  
  Positive Trait - Eto is great at reading others, usually knowing how people are feeling and why. Her players have firsthand experience with this. Sometime's their bummed out about a game or how they played, and Eto would walk up to them and try to provide them comfort. Whether this be by listening to them vent about their issue or pointing out what they did right.
  
  Negative Trait - Because of her strict ways and constant criticism, Eto can be draining to be around. For some people, it's like everything they do it wrong to her. And because of this, she's ended up unintentionally pushing people away from her, whether it's her players or people from outside relationships.

  07

  extras

  1.

  Eto coaches Meiwa.

  
  

  2.

  Eto played setter while in high school, and no surprise, she was very talented. Her keen instincts and reflexes allowed her to make the perfect choices and adjust to any pass. Eto's mother wanted her to go to professional leagues, but Eto decided on using her IQ to train volleyball instead.

  3.

  Eto weighs 124 lbs.

  4.

  The artist for this beautiful face claim is unknown, but all credit goes to them.

  code by @Nano
• 
  
  Retsuko

  Mamoru

  "I want to let you all know now that even though the assignments and studying I'll be making you do may be stressful at times, which is an understatement, I'm doing this for you all. I know that your brain feels like it's about to explode at the end of each practice with all of the information I'm cramming into your head, but trust me, it'll be worth it in the future. This will mold you into the most intelligent volleyball team in the entire league. You'll be able to read the movements and patterns of your opposing teams and anticipate nearly every decision they'll make. And you'll rarely ever be caught off guard by an attack or switch-up since you'll know almost every trick in the book. This will give you an immense edge when it comes to outplaying your opponents, and you'll be able to outclass them every time. It'll be like you have a sixth sense on the court. It'll be like chess, where you can read your opponents' moves and think several steps ahead. You'll be able to follow their every move and counter it before they even act, allowing you to control the flow of the game. You'll be ready for anything they throw at us, and you'll be able to take advantage of their weaknesses and make the most of your own strengths. This is the future of volleyball—a game of strategy and anticipation. With practice and dedication, you'll be unstoppable on the court." - Retsuko Mamoru, the coach of Taku's volleyball team, to his team during his first season as the school's coach.

  01

  basic information

  name

  Retsuko Mamoru

  nickname

  The Lighthouse

  gender

  Male

  age

  29

  date of birth

  December 11th, 1993

  position

  Head Coach

  years working

  11 (2010 - present)

  02

  appearance

  height

  6'1

  hair

  Retsuko's hair is light black and neatly maintained. He keeps it short, just touching his eyebrow, to prevent it from obscuring his vision. Retsuko has kept his hair short and styled to the side since he was a child. This is likely because he finds it easier to maintain and it allows him to keep his vision unobstructed. It has become a signature part of his look and identity, with him rarely changing its style.

  eyes

  Retsuko's eyes are a deep, warm brown and they sparkle with life and intelligence. His glasses add a touch of sophistication to his overall look, and they also help him to see more clearly.

  
  "I want to let you all know now that even though the assignments and studying I'll making you do may be stressful at time, which is an understatement, I'm doing this for you all. I know that your brain feels like it's about to explode at the end of each practice with all of the information I'm cramming into your head, but trust me, it'll be worth it in the future. This will mold you into the most intelligent volleyball team in the entire league. You'll be able to read the movements and patterns of your opposing teams and anticipate nearly every decision they'll make. And you'll rarely ever be caught off guard by an attack or switch-up, since you'll know almost every trick in the book. This will give you an immense edge when it comes to outplaying your opponents, and you'll be able to outclass them every time. It'll be like you have a sixth sense on the court. It'll be like chess, where you can read your opponents' moves and think several steps ahead. You'll be able to follow their every move and counter it before they even act, allowing you to control the flow of the game. You'll be ready for anything they throw at us, and you'll be able to take advantage of their weaknesses and make the most of your own strengths. This is the future of volleyball - a game of strategy and anticipation. With practice and dedication, you'll be unstoppable on the court." - Retsuko Mamoru, the coach of Taku's volleyball team, to his team during his first season as the school's coach.

  03

  personality

  
  Quick-witted and intuitive are the perfect words to describe Retsuko. He can come up with clever solutions to difficult problems in no time. His sharp mind and keen eye for detail make him an invaluable asset in any work environment, and he is always quick to see beyond the surface and find the root of any issue. Despite being doubted before, Retsuko has now established a remarkable reputation for himself as a coach, despite being the kid among the others.
  
  
  
  Retsuko is persistent, never giving up unless absolutely necessary. He is a natural leader, inspiring others to work hard and reach their goals. He has earned the respect of his peers and is seen as a role model for aspiring coaches. He has become a prime example of what hard work and dedication can accomplish. Retsuko is like a lighthouse on a stormy night—always there to guide others and show them the way to success. He is a beacon of hope for others, showing them that anything is possible with the right amount of determination and effort, which is why he is known as the "Lighthouse."
  
  
  
  On the other hand, Retsuko can be very easy to anger, often snapping at students due to their ignorance. His anger can be a double-edged sword; while it can motivate those around him, it can also be seen as a detriment, as his outbursts can cause people to become scared or intimidated. Because of this, there have been instances of a drop in players due to their quitting or avoiding joining Taku entirely. The school board has talked to him about this many times, so to counteract it, Retsuko has implemented anger management techniques to ensure that his sharp tongue does not negatively impact players and allows them to enjoy their experience. His favorite technique is taking long walks to cool off.
  
  
  

  04

  backstory

  
  During his first season, Retsuko was only 19 years old, making him the youngest head coach in the history of the Grand Slam Tournament at the time. Due to this, he was underestimated by everyone, including his own players, which Restuko could understand. After all, he was only a year older than the seniors, heavily lacked years of experience, and barely played the actual sport himself. Some of the players were even his former classmates, and they had never seen him participate in PE volleyball, which quickly spread around. But despite constantly being disdained and overlooked, Retsuko was unfazed. He had a quiet confidence in himself and his ability to lead the team to success. He was determined to prove everyone wrong. Therefore, he wasn't offended.
  
  But how did he know how to play volleyball, or even coach it? Well, outside of school, Retsuko practiced the sport vigorously with his girlfriend at the time, Mei. He found joy and purpose in volleyball, as it was his way of expressing himself, and she desired to become a professional player someday and play for a college team. It gave him the opportunity to release any stress and worries he had, and it also enabled him to bond with his girlfriend. Retsuko was determined to make the most of every practice session and his time with Mei. For example, they would practice every day after school, and during the summer holidays, they often traveled to nearby beaches to practice their serves and volleys. And all of that training paid off, because soon, Retsuko was training his first ever team.
  
  And that very season, he proved his worth when Taku placed 4th at the end of it. It was a record-breaking moment, as Retsuko was the youngest coach to place in the top five in the tournament's history. In just his first season, he broke two league records. Needless to say, people were both impressed and outraged. Retsuko was celebrated by his students, who shared his joy and enthusiasm. However, some of the older and more experienced coaches criticized his methods and accused him of taking shortcuts. Nevertheless, Retsuko's abilities were recognized, and his success continued for years to come.
  
  Rather than focusing too much on physique and power, he emphasizes game knowledge and technique, since he believes knowing the game ensures effective performance. Retsuko always tells his students that volleyball is like a game of chess, where each move has to be calculated carefully. He emphasizes the importance of making the right decisions on the court and understanding the strategies of the game. As a result, his team has been quite successful.
  
  To cut to the present, Retsuko is still the head coach of Taku's volleyball team. He received many offers to coach other schools throughout his career but denied them all. No one knows why, but no one was willing to ask either. And this year, with a $70,000 cash prize on the line, he's even more motivated to coach his team to victory.
  

  05

  likes and dislikes

  Likes:
  Reading comics
  Volleyball
  Stars
  Beaches
  Studying
  Watching documentaries
  Sand between his toes
  Cleaning
  Playing chess
  
  Dislikes:
  Being stared at
  The cold
  Winter
  Losing his glasses
  Bright lights
  

  06

  traits

  
  Positive Trait - Retsuko is very meticulous and likes to keep things neat and orderly. He always ensures his desk is clean and arranged to his liking, keeps all his documents neatly organized, and has a system for tracking his tasks and deadlines. Retsuko is also very punctual and always arrives to work on time.
  
  Negative Trait - As stated before, Retsuko is prone to angry outbursts towards others, mainly due to their ignorance. This can be caused by things such as getting an easy question wrong, saying something that makes no sense, or failing to use common knowledge. Such behavior manifests itself in his overreacting to even the slightest mistake, making her come off as unreasonable to those around her. Despite his reactions, Retsuko is not a bad person and can be understanding of others' mistakes if they are willing to learn. Thus, his outbursts are usually just his way of expressing his frustration and trying to get others to think more critically.

  07

  extras

  1.

  Retsuko coaches Taku High School.

  
  

  2.

  Retsuko has never officially played for a volleyball team, but if he did, he'd like to play as a middle blocker.

  3.

  Retsuko weighs 152 lbs.

  4.

  The face claim for Retsuko is Takeuchi from A Silent Voice.

  code by @Nano

 

[ScatheAriiasqDrayceon]

Character Name:
Arii Auth Kaedos

Age:
16

Year:
Complicated. Officially, Arii is a junior, however, due to amassing a staggering amount of concurrent credit, they are graduating a year early.

Personality (and some background):
The first, and easiest thing to notice about Arii is the fact that they keep to themself. Not so much on purpose as it is that their attention is often caught on other things, whether that be the birds outside a window, the positioning of someone else's posture, or a ball in play. If they don't have anything to say, they won't try and make something up, favoring listening and observing to participating. That's actually how they learned volleyball, originally, one of their friends having joined the team in their last year of highschool and Arii staying to watch out of an attempt of being something in the ballpark of polite.

Another thing to know is that Arii actually doesn't like sports all too much—they've never thought such a thing all too important, and is far too concerned with self-preservation to fling themself onto a hardwood floor to chase after the foggy idea of a "point". They don't do things in half-measures, though. Once they decided to participate in the volleyball club (See; background for how That Whole Situation happened), they were all-in. Between studying the rulebook in its entirety, watching past recordings of events, and overall learning as much as they could about the sport, they made it their personal mission to do as they did with everything else in their life; mould themself into the perfect student.

Now, despite their (sudden) near-obsession with volleyball, Arii is very new at the sport. The bulk of their... well... self as a person has been formed by school moreso than (as they call sports) "hobbies." They are one of the straight-A students in the school. The one no one ever asks about how hard a test was because the answer is always the same "it was a test." That is not to say, though, that they are a rulemonger. In fact, possibly one of the students busiest in the school's "cheating market" is, in fact, Arii, who is just fine simply giving other students their homework answers given they're different enough to not get either of them caught. At the core of this seeming oxymoron is Arii's focus on self-preservation.

Background (and some more personality):
Having transferred into Meiwa from an entirely online school in their sophomore year, Arii isn't well versed in the complexities of social interaction. They have something of a history of being taken advantage of, and are known as somewhat gullible in the classes they frequent. Often, the phrasing of a question is what gets them, and in the early days of their transfer, Arii was known to pick apart teachers' lectures—whether they be English, history, or science—in some form of arguing semantics. With their reputation riding on these days (unbeknownst to them), Arii began their year known as being possibly one of the most annoying entities to be stuck working on a project with. They're a perfectionist—something of a control freak as well—and though they are generally fairly skilled at whatever academics take over their life, they became known as somewhat of a pain to talk to because what they did to teachers they would also do for students. When asked about it, the only thing they provided as explanation was a simple "I want to understand what you're asking."

So, their first week didn't go too well. That's fine. Their second was much the same. Come the third week, the unending stream of questions simply... stopped. They managed to answer and ask questions like just about everyone else to teachers and the few people who could stand to be in a group with them. All was well. For all of two days. as it turned out, Arii could—and would—subject every new person that managed their way to the same grueling trials that had appeared at the very beginning of their assimilation into the school. So yeah, they never really lost the trailing idea that they were a pain to work with.

Somehow, that reputation didn't destroy the effect of their—frankly impressive—testing scores. They weren't top of their class by any means, but they were certainly in the top percentile, keeping a high-A consistently throughout their first year. It was around the end of their first semester that they roped themself into helping students with their tests, homework, and other such academic endeavors. Some say they fell into it. Others believe it's intentional. Rumors run amok, creating a mess of information that Arii would be perfectly happy to dispel if anyone ever bothered to ask them a question. No one ever really does, but that's something of their own fault, too, between their busybody... ness and their general dislike of crowds of people. Still, if asked, Arii's response would be something to the effect of "favors are a powerful currency, and I have things to sell. Why not?"

Their joining the academic integrity black market was 100% intentional.

So, anyway, around rolls the summer of sophomore year, and, lo and behold on their path, Arii would end up graduating early if they kept on their path. Well, that's cool, and all, but they seemed to lack any sort of extracurricular. By the time they realized how ugly that would look on a college application, and how utterly bungled they were, the Meiwa volleyball team had some... absences. Now, something to note is that in this point in time, Arii had not a visible muscle on them. Poor eating habits and a sedentary lifestyle had them lacking in the weight department, and as such, they had to put in some amount of work to get themself into something of "fighting" shape. Because of aforementioned poor eating habits, that didn't actually work too well, though they built up an interesting amount of stamina. Not impressive by any mark of the word, but enough.

Along comes try-outs, and wouldn't 'ya know, there they are, waiting at the doors of the gym.

And they are just now realizing how in over their head they are.

Likes/dislikes:
Arii is something of an everyman. Which is, to say, they do a little bit of everything, and as such have very strong opinions on what they like and dislike. Granted, most of those things are food, and most of that food falls solidly into the dislike category, as getting Arii to eat something more than fish and rice is like pulling teeth, but they have fondness for certain things. Birds are one of them. Arii is completely obsessed with birds, and despite baby songbirds' objective hideousness, if faced with one, their first thought would be to call it cute.

A surprising thing to find about one of the many subjects of their hatred is that sports in general falls solidly into the dislike category despite their being on the Meiwa volleyball team. Sometimes, they call it a means to an end, others they call it a fight and less of a sport. Still, neither of those explanations properly encapsulate what goes through Arii's mind while playing volleyball—the concept of which lays near something like disgust in their mental categorization. To some extent, calling it a "fight" gets close. It is adrenaline. It is a competition. It is a hunt. In practicing for their position on the team, Arii played with their father and a few people local to their home. What became of it was something of an odd mentality borne of their competitive nature, and their ability to run off the first thought that comes to their mind without pause.

Though telepaths are currently naught but fantasy, should one exist and stand within proximity of an Arii participating in volleyball, they would hear nothing but an endless loop of "It's trying to escape" over and over again, perhaps accompanied by ideas of their younger self's habit of locking older kids in the school library and turning all of the lights off. They never were caught for that at their old school.

Traits:
Arii has a particular affection for quiet an observation. If left alone in a room, it is entirely possible to find them in that same spot hour later, listening to the hum of electricity or the clicking of something in the vents. Often, they'll know what's being served for lunch without having checked the schedule just because the courtyard smelled funny and the wind was blowing from the direction of the cafeteria. They notice little things.

What they seemingly cannot notice, however, is obvious things. While they could tell where the players on their team are from the feel of the air and the sound of their shoes on the floor, they cannot, for the life of them, keep track of points. At all. It's almost a complex to the extent that they space out and forget what the purpose of keeping the ball in play is. Once they've set on a goal, that is the only thing in their mind. Often, Arii misses things that should have been obvious, like the blockers setting up for a wall, or the movement of a setter's eyes showing where they're going to send the ball. They joke that's why they didn't make the cut for spiker, though they don't seem all that upset about it.

Still, they try their best to make up for their shortcomings, watching other players' hands when they can and doing their damndest to keep the ball in play. If there is anything Arii brings to the table, it is their pattern recognition.

Position:
Libero

What school they attend:
Meiwa

Height:
5'9"

Weight:
115-120 lbs depending on the day

Specialty:
Arii is best at one thing and one thing only; chasing that damn ball. To a certain extent, they just about always know logically where it is, though how is up for debate among their new teammates (they keep saying it makes a sound or it has a feel to it, but they can't seem to properly express what goes through that peanut brain when they weave around people to get to it). Tangential to this, other players can somewhat track the ball by the movement of Arii's head, because for some reason they cannot think in a 3D space without twitching like a confused bird. Whether or not the players know what certain movements mean is up to them, because Arii doesn't even realize they do it.

On the other side of things, Arii cannot jump worth a damn. They're tall enough to possibly be a good blocker, but that meant nothing because, and I repeat, they cannot jump more than six inches off the ground. They just don't have the muscle mass for it.

Three rumors:
One is true; one is false; and one is half of each
1: They quit going to their old school because they thought the math course was bad
2: They based their strategies off of the Taku team's history
3: They have a little blue notebook with the names of everyone who owes them favors

Extras:
-Arii is used to playing on a sand court, and therefore sometimes overcompensates on instinct, leading to a habit of damaging their ankle.
-Their glasses have two very different prescription lenses, but because of this they can play fine without having to wear corrective lenses.

Story bits/writing experiments (dubiously canon):
​

Spoiler

"Wide stance check the blockers before you spike."

Sand slipped like ice under their shoes, shifting their body in ways they didn't tell it to and unbalancing them even though they weren't really moving. Heat beat down on their neck, though their foresight in acquiring long-sleeved everything shielded most of their arms from its ire. They were probably already developing sunburn. Idly, they wondered if Jet remembered to bring aloe gel back when he went shopping last.

A whistle blew distantly, people shifting at Arii's side and them shifting in a similar manner, though more to shed their presence than any mind for the game they were supposed to be paying attention to. They didn't even realize they were so consumed in their own brain until something bright flared in their vision.

Arii came back to themself just in time for a blazingly white ball to hit them directly in the face.

---

"Just watch the ball. Nothing can surprise you if you know where it is."

They thought playing in the dark was better, the cold night prickling at their skin and keeping them attentive as the neighborhood gang set up their positions around the net—well, less net and more tarp, but Arii didn't really understand why volleyball was played with a net in the first place, so the distinction didn't matter all too much to them. What did matter was that someone had painted stripes on the ball, making it glow in the dim light of the moon.

The group had decided a while ago to play at night. Daytime crowded the court with players better than Arii, and they found themself locking up when eyes grazed them, the feel of the gazes like ants under their skin. A couple of the younger members had complained that the players were going to run into each other. Arii didn't see how—the heat from their teammates' skin was pricking at them, and the shuffling of their feet was more than enough warning to stay away.

Their eyes found the ball, lingering on it as it bobbed up and down with the server's preparation. A quick whistle signaled the start of the game, drawing attention to the ball in something like finality as it rose.

They knew the moment the ball was hit, the unique sound of a muffled sort of hollow thing rattling in their ears as the ball soared. Jenni called for Arii to set it up, and though their face twinged like it did every serve, they found themself under the ball, posture dug into the sand to keep them rooted as they completely changed the stupid glowing thing's momentum with a quick shove.

They were informed later that they'd gotten it a little too high, which they'd figured when after a couple of seconds of watching it go up, it bounced itself off of a tree branch and the whole lot of them had to go chasing after it.

---

"A little lower. You're putting too much weight on your back."

It was instinct more than thought that had them skipping back before Nathan barreled into them. Their light steps carried them away; back from the net as he reached to set up the ball—well, he tried. They guessed. They didn't know Nathan to be all too well at setting, but it still sent some surprise up their spine to find the ball soaring in the opposite direction of where he intended it to, the thing shooting over his head like a missed joke and directly toward Arii, who, by the way, was finding volleyball more and more of an infuriating experience.

Still, they dropped to rest their weight against the joints in their hips, hands folded together. A brace and a slight dip with the motion of the ball, and the thing was back in the air, though slightly off from where they intended to send it. It ended off out of bounds, but they thought it was a good enough receive.

Later, the ball hit them in the face when they jumped too late to wall it off.

---

"As long as the ball's in play, we can't lose."

They wished they'd decided to practice for the swim team, even though they knew they wouldn't be caught dead without a shirt that covered their arms. Their arms which were slowly becoming littered with blueish bruising. Something between a growl and a groan built in their chest, and they didn't have to look to hear the server hitting the ball with just enough of a sharp noise they thought it was going to float. Volleyballs don't make sharp noises unless air's trapped, and to spin the thing you had to hit it at an angle. It was a float. Floats stalled quickly.

A click in the back of their throat, and they were moving up with sharp, jittering movements, dodging between their teammates and keeping their weight even between their legs to keep them upright. A flick of their gaze caught the gaudy, multicolored thing meandering its merry way through the dim evening sky.

Arii passed the attack line.

Nathan was setting. He stalled just as they passed. Jenni couldn't spike the ball if they set it. Nathan could set it. Where was Nathan? Just in front of the attack line. Middle facing left. The ball's proximity made their skin prickle, and a sharp turn of their head was what saved them from eating synthetic leather. They'd kicked the thin before they'd even realized it had passed their arm, sending it flying somewhere left of where they intended it to be.

It hit Jenni in the back of the head.

Well, at least it wasn't them, this time.

---

"It's not a game. It's a fight. The ball is your opponent."

Arii settled into defense decently well, though Vi made them work on their setting skills just in case. They still set from behind the attack line, some part of it just to spite him. They thought he found it funny, though. They thought it was fun—

The whistle caught their ear, and a fullbody jitter ran down their spine, their eyes snapping toward the free zone automatically. Ball located, Arii shifted to crouch, a hand brushing the sand.

Fight.

Anticipation pooled in their lungs as Jenni took a step back, lining up her shot. Jenni wasn't good at getting the ball to spin. It'd head off to the left or stop short. If one of her teammates ended up setting it, they'd be well and truly bungled. Nieve was mean with her spikes.

Fight!

The ball went up once. Arii tensed, even though it landed back down. Adrenaline dripped through a crack in the seal, poisoning their blood with a hot rush that had them baring their teeth in more a snarl than a smile.

Fight—

The sharp sound that the ball connected with had Arii moving before they'd even registered it was a float. They were up at the front just as the thing clipped the net and rolled over, their knuckles just barely smacking it to raise it back into a more playable area, even though they very nearly got run over by Nathan and his lack of any sense of personal space. They saved themself by rolling into the free zone, scrambling to get back upright with the sound of skin hitting fake leather.

Fight!

Venom split their grin as they scurried their way to the back line again, head jerking subtly this way and that as the ball volleyed over the net back and forth in a brief stalemate broken just as they slipped back to where they should be. Nathan took a receive like only Nathan could, and Arii bounced the thing back toward the front so he could properly set it for their outside hitter.

This. This was fun.

​

​

 

[monxmiracle]

Faceclaim: Kanae Ryo Pink Heart Jam by Shikke
Character Name: Ebina Kenzo
Meanings: Ebina - Distinguished Shrimp, Kenzo - Wise Three
Nicknames; Ken, Kenzie, Zozo, Z
Age: 16
Year: Junior
Position: Setter (Starting)
School: Taku
Height: 5'7" (170.18 cm )
Weight: 128 lbs ( 58 kgs)
Specialty: Ball Control
Personality: At first glance Kenzo appears to be someone who is not fit for the sport of volleyball. He seems to be quite unassuming and sickly hardly the
most athletic player on Taku's volleyball team. Kenzo is often a quiet prescense hardly speaking much even off the court. Some would say he's quite rude
and self invested but truth is people make him terribly anxious. Beneath a seemingly dazed and uninterested gaze lies a certain intelligence. Among the team at
Taku many would call him the brains of the operation. Kenzo is a strategist through and through a flexible player he has a knack for being at least three steps ahead of
his opponents.
Likes: video games, music , sweets
Dislikes: Hot weather, crowds, losing , horoscopes
Positive Traits: Dependable, Intelligent, Resourceful
Negative Traits: Private, Anxious, Stubborn, Cold
Background: As a child Kenzo was frail at least compared to his peers as such he was often kept indoors and sheltered from his peers. It was a lonely childhood
and Kenzo found solace in the internet and gaming culture. It was one of the ways he would make his friends. Worried that he wasn't forming any meaningful social
bonds his parents enrolled him in youth volleyball camp. Surprisingly volleyball became something that Kenzo quickly excelled at. It wasn't until his second year in
middle school that Kenzo was a starter on his school volleyball team. Until than he had a low tolerance and only played half games as he would often throw up shortly after.
By the time high school rolled around Kenzo still was interested in playing volleyball and had heard of the reverence of Taku's all boys volleyball team and decided to apply
to their school. Due to his intelligence and good game sense Kenzo soon became the starting setter for the team.
Trivia:

• Besides being the setter on Taku's volleyball team Kenzo is also a streamer and gamer on twitch and youtube.​
• Despite having played volleyball since he was around five years old Kenzo has stated he neither loves or hates volleyball​
• The idea of horoscopes, luck, and fate seem stupid to him he's a believer in the idea of dedication more than anything.​
• Due to being sheltered as a child Kenzo has troubles with social anxiety.​
• Has a pet calico cat​

Character Inspirations: Kozume Kenma ( Haikyuu ) , Makato Hanamiya (KNB)

 

[monxmiracle]

Faceclaim: Fugushiro Megumi from Jujutsu Kaisen
Character Name: Bushida Ryosuke
Meanings: Bushida - Warrior, Samurai - Ryosuke - clear & helpful assist
Nicknames: Ryo, Bushi-Bushi
Age: 18
Year: Senior
Position: Right Wing Spiker, Captain , The Ace
What school they attend: Meiwa
Height: 6'4" ( 193 cm)
Weight: 178lbs (81kgs)
Specialty: As the ace of the team Ryosuke prides himself as being an all around player. However if he had pick a speciality he
would say spiking. By scoring points he paves their way to victory.
Weakness: Digging & recieving due to the stress on his knees he can no longer bend as he used to, thus making recieves and digging
onto the court quite difficult for him.
Likes: cooking, volleyball, basketball, english
Dislikes: dogs, cold weather, liars
Positive Traits: caring, resilient, easy going
Negative Traits: naive, stubborn , matryr
Personality: Although he appears to be a deliquent with his dyed spiky blue hair and tall stature in truth it seems that Ryosuke is a gentle giant. A big heart he cares about his teammates much like he would his own family. Ryosuke extends his hand to anyone who may need it even if they themselves believe they are undeserving. Some would describe him as having a childlike innocence, though despite that he also feels akin to a doting father at times. Overall, he is the heart and soul of Meiwa the one who keeps the team's morality going.
Background: The star player of his middle school volleyball team Ryosuke was known for his resilient nature and hopeful spirit. Even in the toughest of games he always found a way to make it through. As he approached high school it was clear that he was someone who was well sought after. Though after some thought he had decided with Meiwa as that was the school that was closest to him. Upon attending Meiwa Ryosuke had his heart set on joining their renowned volleyball team. For a while it seemed he was living up to his reputation of being the best of the best. That was until a play off round towards the end of his freshman year which resulted in a severe knee injury that left him benched throughout his sophmore year. During that time he spent some time in California hoping to rehabiliate and get back on the court. Despite doctors warnings Ryosuke stubbornly returned to the court in his junior year in order to aid the team. Though his efforts were futile as Meiwa found themselves losing in the first round. Following that coach Eto had cut every player on the team including himself. While he is unsure whether he will get back into coach Eto's good graces he seems determined to play again if she will allow it. For his last year at Meiwa he wants to prove that he was the player that everyone assumed he was in middle school.

Trivia:

• Ryosuke used to live in America until he was around 10 years old as such he is fluent in both English and Japanese
• Besides Volleyball as a child Ryosuke used to play street basketball
• Ryosuke lives with his grandmother after the divorce of his parents when he was in middle school

Inspirations: Asahi Azumane ( Haikyuu) , Kiyoshi Teppei (KNB) , Kagami Taiga ( KNB)

 

[Irradiant]

Heya! PMed SharkBark about my interest in the RP; finally got around to finishing these bad boys today. Tenshi High, go, go, go.

Will their wings be clipped by the other teams in this year's Saga Prefecture Grand Slam too? Highly likely.

Spoiler: Zhang Haoyu - Pass, Set, Spike

Zhang Haoyu | 18, Male, Chinese-Japanese| 5'8, 146 lbs | Tenshi, Senior, (Starting) Libero​

---

​

Appearance​

​

Height: 5'8 (173 cm)​

Weight: 146 lbs (66 kg)​

Build: On the slim side, but toned due to the physical conditioning that his volleyball coaches regularly put him through​

Skin Color: Pale, fair-skinned​

​

Face:​

​

+ His features are rather youthful, owing to the little pouches of fat on his cheeks that people like to pinch​

+ His overall face shape is oval, tapering off the lower on his face one goes​

+ He has black hair, with bangs that swoop just a little below his eyes; most strands are pushed to the side and some are tucked behind his ears​

+ His eye color is brown​

​

Miscellaneous:​

​

+ Likes to dress comfortably (he likes wearing hoodies and articles of clothing that have pockets where he can shove his hands into)​

+ Though he often wears his hair down, during volleyball games, he styles it upwards with gel so that it doesn't get in his eyes and affect his playing​

​

Personality​

​

Haoyu is an introvert through and through, but that doesn't necessarily make him a shy person. He definitely used to be, and from time to time, he still finds himself in situations where he socially closes up. But, through growing older and accumulating more life experiences, he's learned to better navigate the social spheres. A core aspect of Haoyu's personality is his love of technology, leading him to partake in activities that typically leave him indoors and within the confines of his home. In a closet in his room, he has an elaborate set-up of various devices that are neatly organized on a rack. Haoyu's face lights up whenever anyone asks him what the equipment is for. Setting everything up has been a labor of love of his for years, and thus, it's something he can talk about for hours. Generally speaking, whenever Haoyu is passionate about something, it would be wise to brace yourself for an earful of unsolicited information. That said, some of his friends find this quality about him to be endearing. "Wow, Haoyu's actually speaking more than a couple of sentences... Who knew he had it in him?" He still remembers those words from one of his teammates.​

​

Despite his meek demeanor, which some might mistake for weakness, Haoyu is not someone who'll let others step all over him — far from it, actually. Haoyu doesn't mind confrontation, and he certainly doesn't mind throwing himself into the thick of things if he sees he can do something. It's worth noting that Haoyu likes to keep it diplomatic at all times, even in the middle of a heated exchange. The moment someone starts raising their voice, all reason goes out the window, and a discussion initially meant to hash out a problem now devolves into a pointless shouting match. When you lose sight of what the problem was in the first place, it becomes nigh impossible to reach an understanding. Haoyu is fully aware of that, which is why he keeps a cool head. It's also why his teammates at Tenshi look to him as the mediator when disagreements happen between anyone.​

​

Biography​

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Despite what his name would tell you, Haoyu is half-Chinese and half-Japanese. He was born to a Chinese father, who immigrated to Japan, and a purely Japanese mother. As a child, he was a mama's boy. Haoyu's father, being a Cisco engineer, frequently worked overseas and was absent for most of his childhood. Though, when Haoyu's father was around, he would teach him English, a language he was fluent in due to his work, and a language that Haoyu would eventually become fluent in. Kids tend to learn languages rather quickly, and the same could be said for Haoyu. As a means of further bonding with his father, Haoyu also took an interest in technology, an interest that was superficial at first but soon grew into a genuine passion. This interest took the form of building computers and messing with their components, all of which he had done under the careful watch of his father.​

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"Don't bend that."​

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"Don't fry that."​

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"If it doesn't 'click,' don't try to take it out."​

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He would often hear those words from his father, which instilled in him a meticulousness when it comes to handling any piece of tech. This would also manifest itself in the way Haoyu plays volleyball.​

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Speaking of volleyball, Haoyu's interest in the sport would only bloom during his middle school years. Haoyu, for the lack of a better word, was a social dunce. His introverted nature and generally shy demeanor prevented him from making any meaningful connections in elementary school. Fed up with his current self, Haoyu resolved to change that coming into middle school. His solution? To join his school's volleyball team. He'd been reading plenty of sports-related manga at the time, so the idea of joining a sports team naturally popped into his head. Funnily enough, he went along with it. He tried out, and after much anticipation, made it in! Though, as a helper, and not as a player. Even so, he practiced alongside members of the team who actually played in matches. Out of all aspects of volleyball, he realized he had a knack for receiving the ball. In the latter half of that season, at his request, he was promoted as the substitute libero; the coach recognized his hard work. One time, he was able to play a complete game after the starting libero suffered from an injury. Eventually, the starting libero passed on the mantle to Haoyu. For the remainder of middle school, Haoyu filled the role of starting libero.​

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Through middle school, Haoyu continued to pursue fluency in the English language, opting to take all of the English language classes that were offered. While taking one of these classes, Haoyu was involved in a language exchange program with a school in the United States. His language partner was a boy his age by the name of Andre Walker. Determined to break out of his shyness, Haoyu took every opportunity at interacting with Andre. Fortunately for him, Andre seemed receptive to his advances, and even returned the favor, asking him a deluge of questions in return. Of the many things the 2 of them talked about, Haoyu honed in on Andre's fixation on sports. This was his chance! Then and there, Haoyu raised the topic of volleyball. As if to throw him a bone, when Andre brought up the fact that his school had a volleyball team, Haoyu became all the more persistent. "You should try out," he remembered saying in a text to Andre. Surprisingly, he did try out; unsurprisingly, he also made the team. Success! He was sure that a person as tall as Andre would make a good volleyball player. Never in his wildest dream did he think Andre would then become a volleyball fanatic. But, he did, almost to a fault. He would often call Haoyu for advice on improving his playing, sometimes forgetting the time difference between the two of them. For the late-night calls, Haoyu would answer some of them out of consideration, but on the inside, he was tired, exhausted, and generally just wanted to go to sleep. In addition to volleyball, Haoyu also talked at length about all things related to Japan with Andre, ranging from the mundane like anime and the various shrines in Japan to the strange such as the contents of some Japanese vending machines.​

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One day, Andre expressed his desire to visit Japan, and perhaps even live there for a couple of years, but from the sound of it, he wasn't very hopeful. That was when it dawned on Haoyu that Tenshi High School, the high school he currently attended, had a foreign exchange program. After getting more information about it from a counselor, Haoyu informed Andre of the opportunity. Needless to say, Andre was equal parts ecstatic and nervous, as the application process involved an interview that was all in Japanese. That was a natural reaction. Andre was still iffy when it came to conversing in Japanese, after all. So, in order to prepare Andre for the interview, Haoyu would only communicate with him in Japanese for the months leading up to it. Andre absolutely hated it in the beginning, as Haoyu did not pull any punches. However, the entire ordeal did help Andre to increase his vocabulary and improve his grammar; more importantly, it helped him to ace the interview.​

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Since then, for the past 2 years, Andre and Haoyu have been playing as teammates in Tenshi High School's volleyball team.​

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Specialty / Strengths & Weaknesses​

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Given his position as the libero, Haoyu is a defensive specialist. His job on the court may not be as flashy as others, but it is vital in prolonging a game and increasing the odds of victory. Haoyu has a solid grasp on how to receive the ball; more importantly, he can receive the ball in a way that directs it to the setter, who can then smoothly transition into an attack. Overhand passes, underhand passes, and even diving passes — Haoyu can perform most (if not all) defensive maneuvers in volleyball at a high level. What sets Haoyu apart from other liberos of his caliber is his ability to not only smother the ball's momentum with his receives, but to also manipulate it to an extent. Once Haoyu has a good read on the ball's rotation, he can quickly brush against it to somehow adjust its trajectory. Its destination? Wherever he feels an ideal counter could be launched. It almost always gets there, too. In Haoyu's time as Tenshi's libero, he's turned many powerful spikes and serves into fodder for his teammates. After failing to receive most balls that were sent flying his way during his first year of playing volleyball, a fire was lit in him. From then on, Haoyu began to relentlessly study the techniques of historic players in volleyball — liberos or otherwise. How did they deal with a ball that had lots of spin? How were they orienting their arms to receive it? How did they plant their feet? Those were questions that Haoyu sought answered. Through replaying videos — rewinding constantly to the relevant parts — and putting what he saw into practice, Haoyu eventually picked up tricks that elevated his own playing. Since it is a common ammunition in the arsenal of top players, Haoyu has also learned to reliably receive float serves. He's not as good at receiving them compared to ones with a lot of spin, but he still can do it, and with great results.​

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As for Haoyu's weaknesses, it's everything outside of receiving. He can't spike, or serve, or block, nor can he set, at least not at acceptable levels. The "spiking" and "serving" parts are negligible weaknesses, as he isn't allowed to spike or serve to begin with as a libero. So is the "blocking" part, as liberos aren't allowed to block as well. The "setting" part, however, is a different story. Liberos can, per the rules, set from the back row. Unfortunately, Haoyu's setting ability is undeveloped. Unlike his receives, which he's honed to a knife's edge, he hasn't devoted the time necessary to become truly competent at setting. He can certainly get the ball to the spiker, but he isn't able to draw out the spiker's full potential with his sets. The spiker frequently has to adjust to his sets, instead of the other way around. As Haoyu views his receives as the most important part of his playing, he gives his full attention to it, and little to anything else. He fears he might end up spreading himself thin and neglecting his receiving skills if he decides to take time to master setting.​

Spoiler: Andre Walker - Pass, Set, Spike

Andre Walker | 18, Male, African American | 6'5, 197 lbs | Tenshi, Senior, (Starting) Outside Hitter​

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Appearance​

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Height: 6'5 (196cm)​

Weight: 197 lbs (89 kg)​

Build: Muscular; both his upper and lower body are equally well-developed​

Skin Color: Brown, tanned-skinned​

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Face:​

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+ He has a square face shape​

+ His hair is long and textured, and he keeps the back part in a ponytail; at the front, he has a fade​

+ In general, his facial features are sharp — he has a narrow and pointed nose, a defined jawline, and high cheekbones, to name a few​

+ He has some peach fuzz on his chin that he hasn't bothered to shave off​

+ Very thick eyebrows lay above his eyes, which are green bordering on brown​

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Miscellaneous:​

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+ Andre prefers to wear loose-fitting clothing, as it can get really hot and clammy during the summer months in Japan​

+ Since he tends to sweat a lot, in most casual settings, you'll see him in a tank top that exposes his arms and a pair of shorts that screams "comfy"​

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Personality​

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If there was a word that perfectly encapsulated Andre, it would be "outgoing." He loves moving and going from place to place, and he hates being cooped up in any one place for too long. Finding it easy to strike up conversations, like most textbook extroverts, Andre derives a lot of energy from his interactions with others. In fact, he thrives immensely when he has someone to hang out and shoot the breeze with. Unfortunately, this also means that he can get a bit down in the dumps if he's deprived of his social connections for extended periods of time. Through an intuition that he's developed over time, Andre seems to know all the right words to say in order to keep a person talking or get them to open up. In addition to being a good talker, he also fancies himself a good listener, which is why — among the members of Tenshi High's volleyball team — he's the one his teammates go to when they need a sympathetic ear.​

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While people in general find Andre to be fun to be around, there are times when his less-than-positive traits, particularly his competitiveness, make him the antithesis of that. He aims to be the best at anything he does, and if he views someone as superior to him at a particular skill, he gets jealous and then frustrated at himself, resulting in unfriendly outbursts. He's gotten many scoldings about this from his teammates, and they've definitely butted heads with him more than a couple of times because of it.​

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"You're being an asshole, Andre. Stop that."​

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"We're teammates first, and rivals second, Andre. Get that through that thick skull of yours."​

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Those were words that Haoyu — his team's libero — spoke to him during one of their fights. It took a while, and lots of not-so-pleasant words were exchanged in the process, but Haoyu and the rest of Andre's teammates were eventually able to make him see the light. Once Andre got his head on straight, the guilt crept up on him. Realizing the weight of his actions, he apologized profusely. In time, his teammates welcomed him back with open arms.​

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Through that entire ordeal, Andre learned to stop comparing himself to others. Volleyball was a team sport, after all; if there was something he was bad at, his teammates would surely be there to cover for him. He needed to be reminded of that.​

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Biography​

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Andre was born to a sports-loving family in the suburbs of Washington D.C. Both his mother and his father were prolific athletes from high school all the way through college, with his mother running track and his father playing (American) football. Naturally, their love for sports and other physical activities rubbed off on Andre, and at a very tender age, he started to participate in similar sports as his parents. In elementary school, he ran track, and in the year before he matriculated into middle school, he played football. Neither sport really excited him, however, and he eventually quit both.​

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It was only during middle school, in 7th grade, that he would find the sport that would consume most of his waking hours: volleyball. Initially, Andre knew next to nothing about volleyball, and it wasn't even on the radar of sports he liked. This perspective eventually changed, of course, and Andre would come to learn about volleyball from an unexpected source. As he had to take mandatory language classes in his school, on a whim, Andre chose to take an Introduction to Japanese class. The class had an interesting but effective approach to language learning, one that involved immersion. The teacher, through collaborating with a school in Japan, had set up a chatroom where students from both ends of the world could interact; the students learning Japanese (that would be Andre and his classmates) would respond in Japanese, while the students learning English (that would be the students from the Japanese school) would respond in English. Andre was assigned to a boy named "Zhang Haoyu," and despite his limited knowledge of Asian culture, he knew that the name "Zhang Haoyu" was demonstrably not Japanese. As an icebreaker, Andre — in terribly broken, and maybe Google-translated, Japanese — asked Haoyu if he was part Chinese. Seeing where the question was coming from, Haoyu would reply that, yes, he was part Chinese. He explained that his mother was Japanese, while his father was Chinese; he would also clarify that he was born in and grew up all his life in Japan, which meant he couldn't speak any Chinese. Surprisingly, Haoyu responded in perfect (but not native-sounding) English, which Andre took note of. So, Andre asked: "where did you learn English?" During his interactions with Haoyu, he learned about many things: Haoyu's background, how his father works overseas sometimes, and how he plays volleyball for his school. Andre's ears perked up at the mention of volleyball; his inner sportsman was coming out.​

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"Is volleyball fun?"​

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"Yes. It is a collaborative sport. Everyone works together. Do you also play volleyball, Andre?"​

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"No, but I did track and field, and football. The American kind."​

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"That sounds fun. I do not think we have American football in Japan."​

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"You're not missing out on much."​

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Andre's conversations with Haoyu usually flowed like that. It certainly helped that his partner knew English. This meant his poor Japanese didn't get in the way of their talks, and that he would be able to explain himself in English if he couldn't find the right words in Japanese.​

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After doing some research, Andre saw that his school had a male volleyball team. Upon telling Haoyu about it, Haoyu prompted him to try out, which he did. The coach welcomed him to the team on the spot. Initially, Andre was befuddled by the coach's decision, but Haoyu explained that his height would make him a great asset. To Andre, volleyball had a steep learning curve. The ball was hard to control, and whenever he would try to spike it, his timing was always off. It was frustrating, to say the least. Most frustrating was when he was just learning to receive a ball. Even if he had 10 hands, he would still be unable to count all the times a ball had hit him in the face. Still, he was determined to get better. A show of pure dedication, he spent the summer months and the off-seasons practicing volleyball. He would also video-chat with Haoyu as he practiced in order to get pointers from him. Volleyball was practically his life at that point in time (and to be honest, it still is).​

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Andre maintained frequent contact with Haoyu even outside of his Japanese class. He got Haoyu's phone number, which Haoyu willingly gave out, so that the two of them could have a direct line to each other. Through Haoyu, Andre grew a fascination with Japanese culture. Haoyu often sent him pictures of his volleyball games, and they were always packed with people. "Volleyball is like a national sport in Japan," Haoyu said in a text once. Seeing the crowds in Haoyu's photos, Andre believed it. Among other things, Haoyu also introduced him to anime, recommending an anime called "Hunter x Hunter" to him. At first, Andre didn't really like the medium. But once he learned to appreciate it on its own and not compare it to Western cartoons, he was instantly made a fan. Before Andre realized it, he found himself yearning to go to Japan. It was unlikely, considering he was broke and his family would probably be against it, but a man can dream, right?​

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Then, lifesaver Haoyu came at him with the news: "My high school has a foreign exchange program; you should apply."​

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That was how it all started: his adventures in Japan. Now, Andre plays for — and has been, for the past 2 years, playing for — Tenshi High School as their starting outside hitter.​

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Specialty / Strengths & Weaknesses​

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Andre is a formidable outside hitter, known in the Saga prefecture for his block-penetrating spikes and explosive jump serves. In some instances, his sheer height and vertical reach allow him to completely bypass the blocks themselves. As a player, Andre is as straightforward as it gets. His general approach to hitting revolves entirely around power and maximizing it. That's not to say that there's no finesse to the way he chooses to do things, however. For one, his step-in approach and subsequent jump are all optimized to the highest degree, allowing him to achieve unbelievable heights. He's also learned to spike in different ways, and in particular, his unexpected cut shots have earned him lots of points. That said, Andre prefers things straight and to the point, which is why his best spikes are his straight shots. Compared to his cut shots, Andre's straight shots don't compromise power for control. If a sufficient block isn't up to counter it, chances are his straight shot is making it through.​

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Andre isn't particularly weak in any area of volleyball. His receives, while not anything remarkable, are good enough to get the ball up most of the time. Overall, he's mediocre defensively, but he leaves more complicated receives to the libero or a better defensive player anyways, so it's not a major issue. As far as blocking goes, he's good at it, though that's in large part due to his 6'5 stature. An essential skill he's learned over time is synchronizing with his fellow blockers to form blocks. Being a spiker himself, he can also tell with good accuracy what shot a spiker is about to make, and where. His serves are nothing to scoff at, either. At the behest of his coaches, he's learned how to do jump serves. His preferred jump serves are ones with topspin, and the power he puts behind them makes the ball curve downwards so sharply that it's difficult to completely react to it. Contrasting all his strong points are his so-called "sets," which are certainly... something. Something bad, that is. Terrible, even. So terrible, in fact, that his team specifically makes sure that he never has to set unless he's the last man able to do it. His method of setting is to simply "push" the ball. Oftentimes, he ends up decking the spiker in the face instead.​