𝐂𝐇. 𝟔

⋅. ˚₊ ‧ 𐙚 ‧ ₊ ˚ ⋅

Y/N's POV

It's been two days since Oikawa asked me out.

Two days since I laughed in his face.

Two days since he dramatically clutched his chest and told me I "stabbed his heart with a rejection blade."

I thought maybe—maybe—he'd chill out for a second.

But no.

Today, he decided to open his mouth again.

⸻

During Practice

I'm sitting on the bench scribbling notes when Oikawa jogs by, shirt damp from practice, smirking like he's already planned his next bad decision.

"You know," he says, bouncing a volleyball between his hands, "every time I serve, I imagine impressing you."

I don't even look up. "That explains why your last three serves went out."

He clutches his chest. Again. "Your words are like knives, manager-chan."

I finally look at him.

"Why are you like this?"

"Charming? Handsome? Relentless in love?"

"NO. Annoying. You're SO. ANNOYING."

The entire team goes silent.

Hanamaki wheezes. Matsukawa's on the floor.

Coach Sadayuki just mutters, "Oh boy. It's happening."

Oikawa gasps like I slapped him. "You wound me—again!"

I glare.

He winks.

That's it.

It's war.

⸻

That Night

It begins with a small bottle of glitter.

I know where Oikawa keeps his gym stuff. I've seen him toss his shampoo in his cubby like a walking narcissist with great hair.

So I show up early the next day and switch the shampoo in his bag with a lookalike bottle—except this one's filled with pure, glittery destruction.

Gold. Sparkly. Clings to your soul.

I wait.

⸻

Post-Practice

It takes 20 minutes.

I'm packing up my bag when I hear it.

From the locker room:

"WHAT THE—?!"

"BRO."

"ARE YOU—IS THAT GLITTER???"

Oikawa bursts out of the locker room like a disco ball on legs. His hair is shining. His neck. His arms. His EYEBROWS.

"Y/N," he says, eyes wide, sparkling like a Twilight vampire. "What. Did. You. Do."

I blink innocently. "You look magical."

"I look like I got into a fist fight with a unicorn!"

"You're welcome."

Matsukawa bursts out laughing. "YOU'RE GLOWING."

"YOU LOOK EXPENSIVE," Hanamaki howls.

Iwaizumi walks by, sees Oikawa sparkling like a Christmas ornament, sighs, and says, "Yeah. You deserved that."

⸻

The Next Day – Revenge Hits

I walk into the gym like a queen.

Clipboard ready. Whistle in hand.

I blow the whistle to get the team's attention—except it doesn't whistle.

It squeaks.

Like a duck.

Everyone freezes.

Then:

"QUACK."

My eye twitches.

I blow it again.

"QUACK."

Oikawa's dying across the court. Face red. Hand over his mouth.

"You didn't."

He's cackling now. "Oh, I did. Replaced your whistle with a duck squeaker. You should've seen Coach's face when I tested it last night."

I toss the whistle at him. "You're dead."

He catches it. "Still cute though?"

"I'm going to replace your water bottle with pickle juice."

"I'm into brine."

"I'm going to replace your uniform shorts with a mini skirt."

"...I'll slay in it."

"YOU'RE IMPOSSIBLE."

"IMPOSSIBLY IN LOVE WITH YOU."

⸻

Prank Log Begins

By lunch, the team has started a Prank War Log.

Current score:    •    Y/N: 1 (Glitter Shampoo)    •    Oikawa: 1 (Duck Whistle)

But it doesn't stop.

⸻

Later That Week

    •    Oikawa puts mirror decals inside Y/N's locker. She opens it and sees a hundred tiny reflections of her annoyed face.

    •    Y/N fills his volleyball bag with marshmallows.

    •    Oikawa replaces her clipboard papers with Oikawa x Y/N fanfiction he wrote himself.

    •    Y/N responds by actually editing it in red pen and correcting all his grammar.

    •    Oikawa hangs it up in the locker room like art.

⸻

The Juice Trap

One afternoon, Oikawa offers her a juice box before practice. She eyes it suspiciously.

"You first," she says.

"I would never hurt you."

"Drink. It. First."

He sips.

"...Is this pickle juice?"

"Yes," he gags.

She smirks. "I win."

⸻

Coach finally snaps.

"ONE MORE PRANK AND I'M MAKING YOU RUN LAPS UNTIL YOU THROW UP."

The team collectively shuts up.

Oikawa turns to me slowly.Mouth twitching.

"I'll behave," he says.

I nod. "Me too."

We shake hands.

He squeezes a tiny whoopee cushion in his palm as we do.

⸻

Oikawa's POV

I've never met someone like her.

She's smart. Sharp. Mean in a way that makes my chest hurt and my brain race. I think she's trying to kill me. I also think I'd die happy.

Everything she does makes me want to chase her harder.

Every prank she pulls makes me fall deeper.

I used to flirt because it was fun.

Now I flirt because I can't not.

Iwaizumi told me I was delusional.That I barely knew her.

But he's wrong.

I know her favorite pen color (black, fine point).

I know her handwriting gets messier when she's focused.

I know her left eye twitches when I've pushed her too far.

I know she loves spicy food, hates when her socks slip inside her shoes, and secretly loves the chaos.

She won't admit it yet. But I know.

This war?

Oh, it's only just begun.

And I plan on winning her.

One glitter bomb at a time.