Anime Oneshots (Mostly Hurt/Comfort)

Haikyuu - AsaNoya - Convulsions And Cuddles.

TW: Epilepsy and a Tonic-Clonic Seizure. I don't have epilepsy or know anyone who has been diagnosed with it so this is entirely a product of research and you can correct me if need be.

Nishinoya Yuu fiddles with the royal blue band between his fingers as his lungs relentlessly ache from leaping all over the place and constantly diving onto the icy, light brown gymnasium floor, the emerald and scarlet sphere soaring before his concentrated, chocolate irises. Currently, the Karasuno Volleyball Team are in the penultimate set of a quintet of incredible, astronomical rounds, lifting up the colourful ball just as it dashes towards the shining floor, trillions of droplets of trickling perspiration cascading down their flushed faces as the thought of grasping onto Nationals crosses their minds again and the mere insinuation of no longer being the wingless crows causing their hearts to fly with determination.

The exhausted yet erratic libero instantly glimpses up from his blue identification bracelet, the fluffy, gently orange clouds floating in the beautifully, softly setting sun while a picturesque pink paints itself into the evening sky. His brain is bursting with the same deep desire to grip to that golden trophy, to defeat Ushijima and to rise above everyone's expectations of what these twelve teenagers can accomplish.

But, these thoughts quickly diminish like lightning slipping into thunder on a stormy night, as the strange sensation of standing in this prepared state of anticipation in the past consumes his consciousness, his stomach starting to rise into his burning chest. Anxiety wraps itself around his throat, violently entwining itself inside his mind at the realisation that it is coming. He had had several more sugary, scrumptious snacks today, he had taken his medication earlier that morning, and all of his exams had subsided a week or two ago, making every single potential slithering snake of stress to shed their skin, his blood flowing through his body without any tint of nervousness until the fuzzy, foreboding feeling in his head pirouettes with static.

This extra evening practice is important, necessary, undoubtedly the difference between flying and falling, between being the winged or the wingless crows. If he is ever going to play in the Spring Tournament, his condition will have to be pushed to the back of his brain so that his burning, brown eyes can fully fixate on that shimmering, sparkling success dancing in front of his face, teasing him as if he is an innocent feline bouncing for a treat, like his epilepsy is dangling the victory directly above him, and snatching it away at the very last moment.

Rage courses through his bones at the notion that this could destroy everything, a tremendous wave of heat ascending his spine as his heart slams and slams against his ribs, pain darting throughout his soul as the nightmare of not qualifying for Nationals because of something completely uncontrollable flashes through his conscience, an impending sense of doom crashing over his lungs, breathing inexplicably becoming impossible.

His rapidly dilating pupils process so many swirling colours, from light to dark brown of the four, blurry gymnasium walls, from the muffled crimson of the volleyball to the fuzzy, scattered mess of orange in the decoy's bouncy, bright locks. Every word the vice captain speaks, and every call his stupid fellow second year screams fades into a jumbled, distorted sound, as his breaths grow shallower than a paddling pool and the world throws him into a deep, dark ocean that he can never surface from permanently. Epilepsy will always find some wicked way to obliterate his dreams, it has done it before and it will ruthlessly do it again. His fingers twitch, the spasmodic motions causing a familiar yet unrecognisable figure to briskly stroll over to the libero, a sweet, cautious, considerate tone entering his eardrums as his vision continues to flail in the blackness of the sea, gasping for breath, begging to stay awake so that the team's opportunities will not fall along with his.

However, before another thought crosses his exploding mind, the water flooding through his head drags him by his frantically flapping feet, the last ever hope of reaching the golden shore of victory getting further and further away as the blackness overtakes his heart, nothingness coming into his eyes...