Chapter Text
Fraying Edges
Akaashi walked down the quiet halls of the Royal Academy, his mind heavy with thoughts. The decorations were nearly complete, and the anticipation for the ball hung in the air. But something wasn’t right. As he passed by the grand ballroom, he caught sight of Yachi, standing alone by one of the tables. Her hands moved methodically as she adjusted a floral arrangement, but there was a stiffness to her movements, a tension that set off alarm bells in his mind.
Yachi had always been a bit shy, but there was something different about her now. She seemed... angry. Her normally soft eyes were hard, her lips pressed into a thin line. Akaashi watched as she placed a vase on the table with more force than necessary, the sound of it hitting the wood louder than it should have been.
Akaashi approached her, his steps cautious. "Yachi-san, everything okay?"
She didn’t look up. "Fine," she replied curtly, her voice clipped. There was no warmth in her tone, no trace of the gentle girl he was used to seeing.
"You seem... stressed," Akaashi continued, trying to keep his voice calm and non-threatening. "If you need to talk—"
"I said I’m fine," Yachi snapped, finally looking up at him. Her eyes flashed with irritation, and Akaashi took an involuntary step back. He hadn’t expected such a sharp response from her.
"I didn’t mean to pry," Akaashi said softly, but the damage was done. Yachi’s hands trembled as she turned away from him, busying herself with the flowers again.
As Akaashi watched her, he noticed the way her shoulders were tense, the way her fingers clenched around the stems of the flowers. He could feel the anger radiating off her in waves, though he couldn’t understand where it was coming from.
Yachi’s thoughts swirled in a storm of frustration and resentment as she forced herself to focus on the task in front of her. The flowers—delicate, beautiful things—seemed to mock her with their perfection. Everything about this ball was supposed to be perfect, and here she was, feeling like a cracked vase, just waiting to shatter.
She thought about Yamaguchi and how he barely seemed to notice her anymore. All his attention was on Tsukishima. The way they laughed together, the way they understood each other—it made her blood boil. What did Tsukishima have that she didn’t? Why wasn’t she good enough?
Her mother’s voice echoed in her head, sharp and critical. "You must be perfect, Hitoka. Nothing less is acceptable." But perfection was impossible. No matter how hard she tried, it was never enough. She wasn’t enough.
The anger inside her grew, simmering beneath the surface, waiting for an outlet. She wanted to scream, to throw something, to make everyone see how much she was hurting. But she couldn’t. She had to keep it together, had to keep pretending.
Akaashi couldn’t shake the feeling that something was seriously wrong. After the brief exchange with Yachi, he decided to follow her, keeping a distance. He found her again later, in one of the Academy’s quiet gardens, pacing back and forth with her hands clenched into fists.
He approached cautiously, trying to gauge her mood. "Yachi-san... I really think you should talk to someone."
She whirled around, her eyes blazing with anger. "What is your problem, Akaashi? Why do you keep bothering me?" Her voice was louder than usual, the words coming out in a rush of pent-up frustration.
Akaashi raised his hands in a placating gesture. "I’m just worried about you. You don’t seem like yourself."
"Maybe this is who I really am!" Yachi’s voice cracked as she shouted, the anger breaking through her usual calm demeanor. "Maybe I’m just tired of everyone expecting me to be perfect all the time! Tired of being ignored and pushed aside!"
Akaashi was stunned into silence. He’d never seen her like this—so raw, so full of anger. He wanted to say something, anything to help, but no words came.
Yachi’s breathing was heavy, her face flushed with emotion. She stared at Akaashi, as if daring him to say something else, to give her a reason to unleash the storm brewing inside her. But he just stood there, silent and still.
Finally, Yachi turned away, her shoulders shaking. "Just leave me alone," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "I can handle this."
Akaashi watched her walk away, feeling more helpless than ever. He knew this wasn’t over, knew that something was going to break. And when it did, it would be catastrophic.
As Akaashi made his way back to the dormitories, his mind raced with thoughts of Yachi. He couldn’t shake the feeling of impending doom. The ball was supposed to be a night of celebration, but now it felt like a countdown to disaster.
He paused in front of a small mirror in the hallway, catching a glimpse of his own reflection. For a moment, he thought he saw cracks running through the glass, distorting his image. He blinked, and the cracks were gone, but the unsettling feeling remained.
The chapter ends with Akaashi’s unease settling deep in his bones. The ball was just days away, but he knew that the real storm was already brewing, waiting to unleash itself on that fateful night.
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