“Hey.” Squeaking in surprise, Hitoka nearly jumped out of her skin, whirling around to find a towering, built, brick house of a man with a partially shaved and almost entirely bleached head, looming over her. “I — I — I —” she stammered, back pressed against Tsukishima’s door. Oh gods, this was how she died, this was the end, it had been a good run, it had been — Fingers snapped in front of her face. “Hey. You okay?” Hitoka blinked owlishly. No, not particularly, but she was more shocked out of her doom spiral by the logical inconsistency of a would-be murderer asking if she was alright. “I — uh. I don’t know?” she managed after clearing her throat and taking a deep breath — just like her therapist, Yamaguchi, and Hinata had taught her, (Tsukishima as well, on occasion, could be known to reluctantly remind her). The man snorted under his breath and took a step back, his thick arms folding over his broad chest as he looked down at her, a small quirk at the corner of his mouth the only hint of a smile. “You must be Yachi.”
not wip wednesday but have a lil #kyouyachi from my wip because i havent shared stuff in ages <3 #kyoutani #yachi
