Chapter Text
Chapter 3
Keiji’s wrist had been itching all day, and frankly, he didn’t have time for it. The damn thing was set to end sometime during his first high school volleyball practice, so anyone on the team was a potential soulmate. It wasn’t an idea he cherished.
He cherished the thought of telling his mother he was destined to be with a teammate even less. She had a long-standing dream that he would meet his soulmate at a law firm, or in a library, or a concert hall, or a theatre, or a-
Not a high school gym.
Keiji sighed and gathered his things at the end of class, trying to push the timer to the back of his mind. He couldn’t afford to be late to the first practice, soulmate or no. Still, he took his time walking over to the gym, and he took his time getting changed. None of the other first years in the locker room made the numbers stop, which meant it had to be either a senpai or a manager.
Keiji glanced at his wrist and grimaced. He could technically stay here for another forty-three seconds, forcing his first meeting to happen somewhere private, but if he did so he would be late for practice, thereby negating the point of showing up in the first place. Keiji sighed heavily and tightened his shoelaces before stepping out into the gym.
Hoot.
That was the noise that ripped out of the wild-haired second-year who all but crashed into Keiji just outside the locker room door. Hoot. Like an excitable owl, which, judging by the boy’s hair, was the effect he was going for. Keiji’s wrist seared white-hot, then settled slightly and he had to stifle the urge to groan.
“Holy crap, it worked!” the boy shouted, staring at his wrist gleefully. He turned to grin up at someone on the balcony. Keiji glanced down at his own wrist to confirm.
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Keiji furrowed his brow, staring at the unmoving two. He had never heard of numbers stopping like that. He glanced back up at the grinning owl boy, then stared down at his wrist some more.
“Hey,” the boy said softly. “It’s okay. Come with me, I’ll explain.” Keiji found himself nodding and then large, rough, surprisingly gentle hands were guiding him out of the gym. The boy led him behind the building to a few battered chairs, clearly pilfered from classrooms over the years. He sat Keiji down in one of them and took his own seat across form him.
“I-” Keiji started, frowning when he realized he didn’t know how that sentence ended.
“It’s alright,” the boy said. “Your timer stopped at two seconds, right?” Surprised, Keiji nodded. The boy gave him a gentle smile.
“How did you know that?” Keiji asked.
“Because mine did the same thing about eight months ago,” he said. “When I met my first soulmate, Kuroo. His had stopped at two seconds when he was five and he met his first soulmate, Kenma. Then I met Kenma and all three of our timers stopped at one second, so we figured we had one more to go. Then just now when I met you, mine moved down to zero.” He shuffled forward, looking at Keiji with earnest golden eyes. “Do you understand?” he asked.
“I… understand,” Keiji said slowly. “I’m just not sure I believe you.” The boy nodded.
“That’s fair,” he said. “Kuroo and Kenma are both here too. Do you think you’d be willing to meet them, to see if your wrist times out?” he suggested. Keiji considered.
On the one hand, this boy had no real reason to lie about this. If it had all been a prank, he wouldn’t have been able to predict Keiji’s time ending where it did. On the other, it would be difficult enough explaining that Owl-Senpai was his soulmate without having to introduce her to two more. If it was even true in the first place.
Deciding it was better to know for sure, Keiji nodded. The boy let out another excited hoot and stood, rushing to the door. He paused and looked back at Keiji with a wide grin.
“Oh, I’m Bokuto, by the way,” he said. “Bokuto Koutarou.”
“Akaashi Keiji,” answered Keiji softly. Bokuto grinned even wider and disappeared inside the gym.
Keiji sat very still and very straight. He kept his shoulders back and his chin high, just like his father had always taught him. the only sign to betray his nervousness was the hand which cupped his left wrist. He waited in silence for less than three minutes before Bokuto came bursting though the door, this time followed by a lanky boy with equally atrocious hair. Keiji’s wrist seared again and both he and the other looked down.
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“Akaashi?” Keiji looked up at the boy who was watching him with a nervous smile. “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou,” he said. Keiji looked down.
“So he wasn’t making it up,” he murmured. Kuroo laughed.
“Yeah, it does seem pretty implausible,” he agreed. “I spent the longest time thinking something was wring with me before I met Kouta.” He rubbed the back of his neck with a grimace. “Kenma did too.”
“You have to know how ridiculous this all sounds,” Keiji said. Kuroo snorted.
“Believe me, I know,” he said. “And I get that it’s a lot to take in at once. We’ve all had a few months to get used to the idea.”
“Speaking of, I thought Bokuto-san said there was another person,” Keiji said. Kuroo grimaced harder.
“Kenma’s… shy,” he said. “Really shy. He’s honestly terrified to meet you.” Keiji blinked. Who would be nervous to meet him? Quiet, polite, unassuming Keiji who never caused waves, never spoke too loud. Of course, Keiji reasoned, with these two as soulmates, anyone would be nervous to meet another.
“I don’t want to press,” Keiji said after some time. Kuroo smiled, looking relieved.
“I promise, he does want to meet you,” he said. “It’s just- it’s my fault, really. When we were kids and our timers stopped early, I didn’t say anything because I thought it meant Kenma didn’t want me as his soulmate. So then he spent the next ten years thinking that he was broken somehow. He’s worried that he’ll ruin any sort of relationship he’ll get into.”
“Bro, he told you all that?” asked Bokuto. Kuroo rolled his eyes.
“Of course he didn’t,” he said. “He’d have to actually talk about his feelings for that to happen. I inferred.” He frowned, looking toward the door. “I should actually go find him. He doesn’t do well alone in crowds-”
“Kuro?” Three sets of eyes turned to where a small figure was huddled just inside the door. Keiji could make out longish black hair and pale skin wrapped in a red jacket, but couldn’t see any more of who he realized was probably Kenma. Keiji stood slowly and moved back against the wall.
“Kenma-san, I promise, you’ll be okay,” Keiji said softly. “I’m going to turn away now, so you decide if you want to come out or not. It’s your choice, okay?” Without waiting for an answer Keiji turned his back to the door.
It seemed to Keiji that they stood like that for days. He kept his eyes fixed in front of him, watching a sparrow flit around at the base of a tree. There was a quiet rustle behind him and still he stared at the sparrow, until suddenly there was a boy in front of him, all slender limbs and big, gold eyes. Keiji’s wrist gave one last pulse of searing heat, then settled entirely.
“Thank you,” he whispered. Kenma’s eyes widened and Keiji found himself knocked to the ground, Kenma in his lap with his face buried in Keiji’s shirt. Kenma’s shoulders began to shake and Keiji wrapped his arms around them, holding him to his chest. With a pang Keiji realized that Kenma was clutching his own wrist tight, holding it between them as he sobbed. “It’s okay,” he whispered, rocking them back and forth gently. “You’re okay. You’re whole now.” Keiji pressed his face into Kenma’s hair and breathed into it gently. Sitting up a little straighter, he coaxed Kenma into releasing his wrist. He took it into his own grip, gently, as though it might break, and held it out for Kenma to see.
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