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Kiyoko Shimizu is a woman.
This is a fact.
She is a long,elegant woman,tall and beautiful,and strong as anyone on the court. She speaks little,but the few words she does say are thoughtful remarks,charming,or perfectly poisonous.
Every inch of her is a mark of maturity,and yet,
She is such a clumsy lover.
Tripping over every kiss,stumbling from every brush of skin. Every stolen glance leaving her aching to the bone with affection,unbearably warm from want.
And when her lover is a blonde haired girl full of restless energy and trembling doubt,that strange unfamiliar clumsiness intensifies.
***
There are very few times,when Yachi is calm. Those are soft and rare moments.
Shimizu remembers visiting her apartment for the first time,recalls how anxious Hitoka was,cheeks bright red and eyes to the ground,as she led her into her room. They sat on the bed,and Kiyoko stared in awe at the place around her. Walls and walls were plastered in brightly coloured stickers,neatly written notes in bright mosaics,soft charcoal pencil drawings.
Those drawings were mesmerising.
She recognised a few faces in the midst of them,Hinata's flaming orange hair in vibrant water colour, Kageyama's icy blue gaze quickly scrawled in felt pen,the gentle lines of Suga's smile in ink.
"Yeah,I,uh,draw people a lot." She confessed,wringing her hands, "They're not very good,I'm self taught,you know,because mum always says I should concentrate on design not -"
"They're beautiful." She breathed,smiling.
"I can draw you too!" Yachi offered sheepishly,blushing bright red at the sudden compliment, "if you'd like."
"I'd love that,Yachi."
She selected a pencil from a yellow container on her desk,pulled her sketchbook from a pile of papers,spread it wide across her lap,and began to sketch.
At first,all Kiyoko can make out are lines,rough and sharp. And then she sees the curve of her neck,and the gentle line of her lips,and the sharp stare of her eyes,and the little mole on her cheek.
Yachi's fluttering fingers dance across the paper,her eyes focused and clear,calm as water as she carves the soft lines of Shimizu's face with pencil. She steals quick glances at Kiyoko, inspecting the shapes of her. It is then,with Yachi's golden eyes tenderly tracing her face,that Kiyoko knows this a real artist.
"Would you like some music on?" Asked Hitoka,her voice steady and devoid of the usual fluster.
"No,this is fine."
***
Kiyoko knows this now about Yachi,she is a doubtful and anxious person,always trembling about the slimmest odds of misfortune. She is nervous in her team,in her school,in her family,in her own body. Only here,with a pencil grasped in her hand and paper laid out like a canvas before her,she is calm and collected. For Yachi knows art like the back of her hand,how it feels,how it looks,and she is at ease.
These days,when Hitoka is red and trembling with worry,Shimizu will bring out a sheet of paper,or a post it note,or the back of a grocery receipt, and place it before her with a pen. And she'll say,
"Draw me."
Hitoka knows those two words well now.
She'll smile shakily,and take the pen in hand.
And draw her favourite muse,one more time.