(discontinued :(.... Strawberry Hair - Dekubaku Fanfic - BNHA

Firefly, Firefly, Where Are You? (Haru)

The scene cuts open to a blonde boy sitting in an alleyway, with a sketchbook in hand and a pencil in the other. He's trying to capture the perfect scenario that single-handedly frames the feeling of city life, or in other words, he's trying to draw something for his friends who lives far away from him. 
By illustrating city life, it would give them a slice of his daily routine and the blonde boy just really had nothing else to do. 
He started to sketch a one-minute croquis as a reference but erased that suddenly with a scraped and stabbed eraser on the end of the pencil. 

"Hmmm," he muttered. "What can I do? What can I do?." 

Haru was always a difficult city to draw for him. Everything was a buzz and he just couldn't make a sketch when everything was moving! And all the time, everything was moving. 

He supposed he could always hop on some planes and meet his friends in person, but could he swing it? Financial-wise? 

He sighed and shut his sketchbook like a heavy book he's been reading for a long time, he tucked his pencils away neatly in a metal pencil case. He liked that pencil case very much, it was gifted to him last year by his friend. Plus, it was very cute. 

He packed everything into a trusty black backpack and stood up. He sighed, dissatisfied, and walked out to the street to make his steady way to the park. 

12:18 AM; Sunday; 2307 

The park was always a scenic place to rest. It had its standard dirt pathway, metal rails that guarded the lake against children, and a playground with an even more standard broken swing. The sun shone dimly through the grey clouds in the sky so Tsukishima Kei felt like it was the perfect weather to draw some things. 
He remembered competing against UA's volleyball team when he was 14. 
UA had lost against Shiketsu so that always brought a stifle of a laugh out of him.

Oh well, that was eight years ago. 

He sat on a wooden bench and opened the sketchbook. 

He started to sketch his daydreams. He usually drew surrealism, semi-realism, realism, and when he wanted to; he drew simple, bouncy cartoons. It wasn't something you'd expect him to do if you met him six years ago, you'd normally expect him to become a professional volleyball player, or join Tobio's and Shouyo's hero agency, but he couldn't (and for the hero agency thing he wouldn't) do any of that. Both his arms were worn out from intense sports-playing, and doctors and nurses basically forced him to stop playing volleyball. 

"It's a genetic condition that weakens the muscles, it probably runs in the family and skips a few generations, your brother seems to be lucky to have missed it. I suggest you only occasionally practice volleyball." 
"So, only one time a day? Or-" 
"NO! Zero times a day!" the doctor had exclaimed unhappily. Dr. Blue-bell was somewhat friends with the volleyball team since he was always put in charge of them when they got injuries. He was exasperated with Kei's often requests of "but I can play again tomorrow?" and he always responded with, "Mr. Tsukishima, you can play a few times every few months. Not EVERY DAY THOUGH, REMEMBER THAT!"  

Though he missed volleyball, he didn't particularly want to destroy his arms. 

He sketched a little volleyball in the corner to pay tribute to his athletic days of calloused palms. Then quite unexpectedly, the sound of raindrops pitter-pattered its way into the ground. Kei hurriedly shut his sketchbook and clicked his pencils away in the metal case, because, like any artist who used drawing as a coping mechanism, he had a fear of his artwork becoming ruined by any fluids.