A/N [12/08/2018] : Welcome to the first chapter of Notice Me, Daichi, the parallel-sequel series to Heartbreaker? Pfffsh...! If you're a new reader, I'd strongly suggest you read the latter first, because things should make more sense here if you've read H?P... Anyway, new readers or old, I really hope you enjoy this short series. As always, drop me a comment, a PM, or come an natter with me on my Tumblr. I'm yuilhan-writes-things, and while I don't always check it frequently, I'll certainly try and respond as soon as possible!

There isn't a set update schedule for this story, unlike H?P... which I wrote and updated for daily. I'll try and aim for that again for these five chapters, but it could be every other day I'm updating NM,D.

Notice Me, Daichi

Notice Me, Daichi

Kōshi Sugawara was wondering once more how exactly he'd fallen into this situation.

Sat inside Kiyoko Shimizu's bedroom – a place he'd never though he'd see before in his life, and a sanctum that Nishinoya and Tanaka would kill for just to set foot in momentarily – chewing on snacks and drinking chilled grape juice from glasses that had an entirely different function… It was mind-boggling.

Somewhere around the time of Daichi waxing on about the potential horrors Yachi could have been facing when alone with Kiyoko (which, considering the magic teenage girls worked on themselves every day said horrors were probably akin to voodoo and could have been assured by blood sacrifices) and Shimizu approaching him after practice to assist her in teaching Yachi something 'important', Kōshi had fallen down a rabbit hole. A very, very, Kiyoko-orientated rabbit hole. He was sure of it.

Since when did Kiyoko 'Angelic Ice Queen' Shimizu keep cuddly toys by her bed?

Distinctly feminine touches in the room did not a torture chamber make; the floral bedspread didn't scream 'There's a bed of nails hidden under the duvet', and though Kōshi could confirm to Daichi that if Kiyoko owned any chains and whips they were well-hidden, he kept eyeing what he thought was a pair of eyelash curlers speculatively.

Daichi would be disappointed, he supposed. The Captain had been banking on Kōshi using this meeting to gather intel on Kiyoko's (as she'd stressed to both himself and Hitoka to call her by her first name) nefarious plans.

In truth, it was nothing as sinister as Daichi had been imagining – which Kōshi had been certain of before he'd been pulled inside a teenage girl's room. Though Kiyoko's plans were still rather outlandish.

Seduction of all things? And Shimizu had willingly put herself through those lessons too?

The Karasuno team were no strangers to tradition. They'd kept the banner hung at big games to rally support – while it had seen better days (most likely needing repairs seeing as Karasuno hadn't exactly dominated the high school volleyball scene in an age) – and made it a thing to recreate the Nativity each year while they had Asahi with them.

Perhaps, that tradition should carry over into college, though Kōshi wasn't sure how the logistics would work if they all scattered to different universities and if Asahi would be charged for public indecency, strung up to a lamppost or something rather than a volleyball net.

That their managers-in-training – regardless of gender – had to undergo the same rite of passage… it was… Kōshi couldn't find the words, truthfully. The one year where the Karasuno Boys Volleyball Club had a male manager must have been interesting. It's possibly the reason why future managers for boys and girls' clubs were encouraged to be of the opposite sex, but Kōshi was sure that the same traditions Kiyoko had undergone were not encouraged for the girl's teams. Only the innate lesson to protect yourselves from pervs who just want to see girls getting sweaty playing sports.

Weirdos the lot of them, though Kōshi could acknowledge it worked both ways.

While the meaner part of him (the perks of being a Gemini) thought realistically that this tradition was incredibly versatile and handy for an array of situations outside of volleyball (Kami knew Hitoka could use a few confidence boosters, and there was nothing bolder than flirtation when you were fifteen) the emotional part of Kōshi's temperament that dealt with icky feelings and hormones stressed to him that Kiyoko's lessons weren't right.

Hitoka Yachi, underneath all of the trembling and leftover baby fat, had a spine deep down inside. It was amazing to see it – and her – bare metaphorical teeth and step up to the plate, but at the same time Kōshi wanted to just, not.

He could see where Daichi was coming from now; Hitoka being pushed into the roll of 'Kiyoko' was a mental image Kōshi would rather not have in his head. He just couldn't picture it – didn't want to.

So, when Kiyoko assured a quivering Hitoka that she would have to find her own method of charming these so-called 'targets', Kōshi was almost relieved.

Almost.

Then he'd seen the three polaroid pictures Kiyoko had laid out, and instantly paled. Much like Hitoka had.

Daichi had been right. Kiyoko Shimizu was insane, and Kōshi was going to do his best to keep Hitoka out of trouble without compromising Kiyoko's stupid traditions if it killed him.

"You really had to do all of that?" Kōshi asks Kiyoko. They both took the Modern Literature elective this year, and somehow, their desks are beside one another. It makes it easier for them to talk about the club in between lesson change overs and breaks, seeing as this elective is presented as a double session on their timetables.

Kiyoko dips her head, unsure about striking up that delicate turn of conversation while surrounded by their classmates and the expectation that their teacher could walk in at any moment. "I did."

"Seriously? I can't imagine you as anything other than fresh-faced and ice cold from the moment your mum pushed you out," Kōshi muttered.

"My mother had to have a rather risky C-section," Kiyoko sniffed. "And I'll have you know that flawless skin is something to strive for, fresh-faced or acne prone."

Kōshi wanted to utter an apology, having not known that about Kiyoko, but it died in his throat the moment their Sensei walked into the classroom. There are a lot of things the team do not know about Kiyoko Shimizu – that she was a C-section baby was one, but there are many more titbits of knowledge they are yet to learn other than that she's diligent and devoted to being the club's manager.

She's cold often, though 'reserved' may be a more flattering term for Kiyoko's behaviour. There are aspects of her personality, much like Kōshi's own, that Kiyoko covets and keeps to herself. Kōshi can understand that; he works hard to keep his bitterness at bay. There are times though when a sly smile will break through onto Kiyoko's face, which were generally the cause for Daichi's raised hackles.

Fifty minutes of symbolism, reading aloud, and discussions that leave Kōshi in a flap about his life choices and why he picked Modern Literature of all things, and the pair's hushed conversation continues.

"It's not about the boys so much as the preparation and refining involved before making a conquest," Kiyoko utters lowly. "I learned so much more than just how to flirt; my Senpai taught me about personal hygiene, rational thinking, spiking, picking up basic manipulation, how to control my expressions, simple first aid, reading people, little things like that which add up in the end."

"Wait- 'manipulation'? 'spiking'?"

"Oh dear, Sensei seems to want to start the lesson again," Kiyoko interjected, flipping open the novel their class were reading through page by agonising page this term.

Kōshi had repeated 'Confidence lessons – yes, just that' so many times that afternoon his tongue automatically moved to form the words whenever someone attempted to speak to him.

If anyone – anyone – asked him again about it, or about Hitoka, he was going to scream.

Kōshi loved Daichi, he really really did, but sometimes the teen could irk him with all of his fretting and oblivious nature to more pressing issues when ensnared by something else entirely. Like right now, as Daichi glared holes into the back of Kiyoko's neck.

"Hitoka-Chan is really unsure of herself, and Kiyoko-San is not," Kōshi pointed out. "It makes sense that the two would be there to help one another, right?"

"And they're including you?"

Because you asked me to barge in on their meetings, Kōshi thought snidely.

He forced a smile onto his face, scrubbing at the back of his neck with one hand in manner that could be deemed sheepish. "I guess, since I'm the Vice Captain and look out for the team while you organise everything, Kiyoko-San thought I had a more… feminine touch to me they could use."

That was a crock of lies. Kōshi knew it. He hoped Daichi didn't.

While Kōshi was the more caring of the two of them (seeing as he was better with all the emotional stuff and spirit-raising), that did not mean Daichi had a selfish bone in his body. He just wasn't brilliant at conveying his caring like Kōshi could. Kōshi could work with that – could bolster what Daichi already had to work with.

It was one of the things Kōshi loved about him.

He stilled, jolting as a receive he could have easily picked up bounced past him; the opposite team scoring the a one-point advantage in their little practice game.

"Where's your head, Suga?" Called Coach Ukai, whistle blaring sharply to signal the volleyball being punted back into play.

Suga's 'head', so to speak, and his attention had been solely fixated on how he'd just said – in his mind thank the powers that be – that he loved Daichi Sawamura. Loved parts of him, his personality. Suga mentally shook himself; that was it, he loved Daichi in the sense that friends loved one another – liked! Liked was the better word to use in this situation. He liked Daichi, a lot.

Nothing more.

Right?

That had to be it. Kōshi had just got his vocabulary mixed up in the same way people mixed up Kanji readings. There were too many Kanji for one to be bothered to learn these days just as there were so many feelings one could possibly feel at any given moment – far too complicated to unpack in a split second.

That was what Kōshi was telling himself, anyway.

Distracted, Kōshi's gaze wandered across the gym while he waited for the opposition team in this minigame to return the ball to his side of the court. His eyes skimmed over Kiyoko and Hitoka (jotting down notes) but lingered over Daichi. Kōshi ripped his attention away, leaping in for a receive. He scrambled to his feet, darting down the court while Tanaka and Asahi set themselves up to return the favour for Daichi's little team.

The puckered frown on Daichi's face while Suga set for Asahi was incredibly distracting (he wanted to smooth out the creases and ridges forming on Daichi's face with a gentle swipe of his fingertips,) and Kōshi nearly flubbed his aim at Asahi's awaiting spike.

Kōshi gulped.

The solitary, resounding thud of the volleyball made, as Asahi's spike landed home happened just as Kōshi came to a stuttering realisation of his own. It was as though Asahi's spike was replaying in time with Kōshi's heartbeat.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

You. Love. Him.

There was nothing Kōshi's logical Gemini side could do to save him now. He'd been in deep – swimming in a high tide and just never realised it – but now there was nothing to save him from the feelings he was going to drown in currently flooding through his system.

Kōshi had been struggling without knowing it for all these years, and now he'd simply given in.

Perhaps… perhaps it was time to speak with Kiyoko himself?

One further glance to the elder manager and her protégé had Kōshi flinching back in surprise. She was surveying him, her glasses tinted oddly in the afternoon sunshine. Kōshi wasn't sure he liked how her gaze pierced knowingly through him.

Distracting himself with offering Asahi and Tanaka a few words of encouragement Kōshi put Kiyoko's expression to the back of his mind for now – and his own discovery too. It was as though she knew.

It appeared, unlike Daichi, Kōshi and their teammates, that Kiyoko Shimizu had been learning a lot about herself (and others) for the past two years. To a frightening degree, it would seem, if she could pluck the muted look of realised horror off of Kōshi's face and dissect it in seconds.

She would be the one to talk to, should Kōshi feel the need.

But not yet. No. He was going to go it alone for a bit longer; see where his discovery took him and perhaps invest in some grape juice to drown his own sorrows in.

Kōshi Sugawara was in love with his best friend. A fact that he himself had only just noticed twenty minutes ago. A fact that Daichi Sawamura wasn't going to notice himself for a very, very long time, should Kōshi play his cards right.

Or ever really.

Daichi never finding out would be preferable, yeah.