Chapter Text
It takes Iwaizumi a while to calm down.
“And they told you ‘thank you’?” Akaashi’s arms cross with worry.
Iwaizumi’s too busy breathing into a paper bag to respond. He powers through a coughing fit and manages, “They – they were those kids from the – the picture.”
Kuroo snaps to attention, making a mess of Akaashi’s crate of notes in the van. Kuroo thrusts the photograph in Iwaizumi’s face. “These two? These exact two? Tanaka and Nishinoya?”
“Yes.”
“Those poor kids,” Bokuto says, drooping. “I mean, I know they scared the hell out of Iwaizumi-san, but what if they've been trapped in that pond this whole time?”
Kenma steeples his fingers. “What was keeping them in the pond? Why couldn’t they let go and find closure?”
Bokuto says, “I dunno, they were just kids so maybe they were playin’ in the pond.”
“Or,” Akaashi says. “They were looking for something.” He studies another picture before turning it around to show the group – it’s the one of Rintarou. “What if one of the boys saw Rintarou’s necklace in the pond and they tried to find it before drowning?”
“Holy shit,” Kuroo says. “That’s dark even for you, Akaashi.”
Akaashi continues, “So, there’s a good chance the spirits here are bound to the mortal world by objects. Once we find all the objects, they should all go peacefully – ideally.”
Iwaizumi says, “But what if they don’t want to leave?”
“I imagine that will only come up when we find Oikawa’s item,” Kuroo says. He puts a hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “And you gotta let him do whatever will bring him peace, Iwaizumi.”
“I know that.” He firms up. “I’d never want him to do anything but what’s best for him.”
“Good. Ready to go back in the house?”
The home in its entirety is colder upon reentrance. The shadows seem darker and fluid. The group decides to head upstairs and look through the bedrooms. Iwaizumi pauses at the hallway where no plants can live, and he draws close to the window. He stares out into the night, eyes vacant on the evergreen world beyond the backyard.
“You all right, man?”
Iwaizumi turns to Bokuto and his blazing headlamp with a half-smile. “Yeah, it’s just a little weird being in the house like this. You know, at night.”
“That’s kind of the point,” Bokuto chuckles. “But you’re doin’ a good thing here – for Oikawa and yourself. I always walk away from these investigations feeling so much happier with the world.”
“Why?”
“Imagine you’ve spent years wandering all alone until someone comes along and notices you. We get to tell these ghosts – these people – that their existence is not worthless, they’re freaking awesome, all that good stuff. And we give them the closure they need to go on to the next happy place, wherever that may be.”
Iwaizumi’s brows raise. “That’s really beautiful, Bokuto-san. I hope it’s real.”
“Me too. Not to touch a raw nerve, but Oikawa died in autumn?”
“Yeah,” Iwaizumi says.
Bokuto gives a sad nod. “You could be an honorary member of the Autumn Club.”
“The… what? I thought this business was called Chance Encounters.”
“That name took years to come up with,” Bokuto says, laughing at the memory. “The Autumn Club was something we made up as a friend group. Something tragic happened in all our lives during autumn, but it’s still our favorite season – so colorful and cool, I can’t get enough of it.” He grins fondly. “Akaashi would tell you that it means to find balance in uneven times.”
“That’s a great way of looking at things,” Iwaizumi says.
“Oi!” Kuroo calls from a bedroom.
Bokuto hurries to see what’s going on while Iwaizumi gives Tooru’s bedroom door one last look.
“I found a diary,” Kuroo says. “And it’s spicy.”
Bokuto claps his hands with a whoop as Akaashi huffs a long-suffering breath.
“Apparently, Osamu had it bad for that caretaker, Rintarou.” Kuroo skims through the pages. “He’s the one that gave Rintarou the necklace.”
Iwaizumi frowns. “So, how do we give it back?”
“Place it on the floor, do a ritual?” Bokuto puts his hands on his hips. “I am not gonna be the one lighting the candles this time.”
“Nobody on this team would let you light a single candle ever again,” Akaashi promises.
Iwaizumi grins. “What happened?”
Kuroo looks up from the diary. “He tried to light three candles at once and burnt his hand so bad that he couldn’t use it for days. And when Bokuto complains, he complains.” Kuroo flips through the pages. “I don’t think a ritual will be necessary this time. If the other ghosts are anything like Tanaka and Nishinoya, all we need to do is set the necklace somewhere specific.”
Bokuto says, “We’ve been all over the house and the front garden. I’m not sure where else we could go.”
Kuroo’s walkie talkie beeps. “Kuroo?”
Kuroo takes it from his belt holster and pushes the speak button. “Yes, kitten?”
“I did some more research on the Miya twins. Turns out Osamu was crafty – I think he painted that picture of Rintarou himself. If we’re going along with the theory that he also made the necklace, I think there’s a good chance that Osamu’s sculpture work is still in the back garden.”
Iwaizumi perks up. “He’s right! There’s some statues back there. Tooru and I were always creeped out by them.”
Kuroo fist pumps the air. “Give Kenzo a kiss for me, Kenma. This feels like our lucky night.”
The back garden is a world of its own with tropical planets as well as winter blooms. A past owner might have been an accomplished traveler; perhaps they died on one of their journeys. The aromas of flowers saturate the night with a sense of adventure.
Iwaizumi leads the group by the overgrown fountain to the statuary. Moss clings against the stonework – the sun was not kind to the statues, nor were the elements – but they are clear depictions of two men, and one of them is Rintarou.
Bokuto squints in the face of the unnamed statue. “Guess this is Osamu?” He pauses at Osamu’s outstretched hand, then glances at Rintarou’s statue. “They’re both reaching out.”
Akaashi observes the two of them. “Are they really reaching out…?”
“Or are we supposed to give them something,” Kuroo finishes.
Iwaizumi unravels the necklace in his hand. Shakily, he places it in the outstretched palm of Rintarou’s statue.
They wait, nerves strung taut, as nothing happens.
Kuroo situates the beads a different way with the same result each time. Iwaizumi says, “The necklace was a gift, right?”
Akaashi hikes a brow. “Yeah?”
“Then shouldn’t we give it to Osamu first?”
Bokuto launches himself at him. “Genius Iwaizumi~! You’re a natural!”
“Thanks,” Iwaizumi wheezes. Turns out Bokuto gives crushing hugs.
Iwaizumi folds the necklace into Osamu’s palm. Tension sharpens the air at a flicker of noise, then the statue pulls its hand into a fist. The necklace’s chain snaps in two and beads go bouncing to the ground. Osamu opens his palm, and one beads remains.
Breathless, Kuroo whispers, “Give that one to Rintarou, Iwaizumi.”
Faint with disbelief, Iwaizumi pinches the bead between two fingers and notices an inscription.
To Rintarou, forever.
Sympathy floods him. He knows the yearning with which these two loved one another, and if placing the bead in Rintarou’s hand will help them, he will gladly do it.
Iwaizumi drops the bead into Rintarou’s hand, and it closes into a pleased fist.
A rumble climbs from the ground to shake each statue. Bokuto puts a protective arm out in front of Akaashi as the statues rain stone-dust; it spills from their faces to their torsos and legs until two piles of ash are all that’s left.
Stunned, muscle-memory kicks in and Iwaizumi crouches down to brush through the piles. Inside of Osamu’s pile he finds a small box.
“What’s that?” Akaashi says, crouching as well.
Iwaizumi wipes the dust from it and observes an ornate lock on the front. He feels around the back of the box and notices a dial; when he turns it, nothing happens.
“I think it’s supposed to be a music box,” Iwaizumi says. “But it’s not working.”
“Fuck me to tears,” Kuroo startles. “You mean a music box like the one Sakusa was trying to make?”
Iwaizumi reels as he stares down at it. He flips the box over to observe an inscription.
Iwaizumi says, “Miya Atsumu made this music box.”
“Huh?” Bokuto scratches his head. “But Sakusa was the one who wanted to make it.”
“But,” Akaashi says. “Miya Atsumu was saying ‘Omi’ on his death bed. What if he had visions of Sakusa before he got sick?”
Iwaizumi’s mouth parts as he understands. “And what if Miya Atsumu was making the music box for Sakusa’s ghost.” He opens the back to view the mechanical piece which would play the music. “I don’t know how to fix it to play Moonlight Sonata.”
“Let’s ask Kenma,” Kuroo suggests; he says it as though he’s uttered the words a thousand times. “He might know what to do.”
Iwaizumi and Akaashi lean against the bumper of Bokuto’s van with hot chocolate as Kenma does the meticulous work of adjusting the music box’s player. At Iwaizumi’s far-off look, Akaashi says, “You freaking out?”
Iwaizumi snorts and zips his jacket up against the midnight chill. “Not as much as I probably should be.” He licks his chapped lip. “Have you seen stuff like this before?”
Akaashi gives him a long stare over his hot chocolate mug. “This business isn’t for everyone,” Akaashi says. “But you’ve handled tonight quite well.”
Iwaizumi shakes his head as he gazes at the house. “I don’t feel him, Akaashi. I thought I would but…” He shakes his head once more. “He’s not there.”
“Maybe he’s at peace, then,” Akaashi suggests with a comforting nudge. “When it comes to ghosts, I’ve always said that death isn’t for everyone – but it is for some people. Maybe your Oikawa is resting.”
“I hope so,” Iwaizumi whispers with glistening eyes against the string lights. “I just want him to be happy.”
“I’m sure he wishes the same for you, Iwaizumi.”
Kuroo calls them over to the tech van and Kenma presents the fixed music box. “I’m not too familiar with Moonlight Sonata,” Kenma says. “But I hope the melody is generally the same.”
“You’re a miracle worker, Kenma,” Bokuto beams.
“I know,” he says before shutting the van doors.
The group marches back into the house and Iwaizumi feels an odd surge in the air – not cold, not hot, but pressure. His ears ring. His palms sweat. A sense of urgency quickens his blood.
Kuroo hands the music box to Iwaizumi, who wonders where to place it. He wanders to the living room and goes to the piano, placing the music box atop it. He turns the rusted dial, and a muffled whirl comes from the device as it begins to spin.
The first note falls and after a pause, the second one chimes. By the third note, the piano plays along by itself.
With a start, Iwaizumi looks up at the others. “This was the only way Atsumu and Kiyoomi could be together,” he realizes with breathlessness. “The piano and the music box.”
Bokuto and Akaashi look understanding while Kuroo discreetly wipes some dust from his eye.
Iwaizumi says, “Atsumu must have fallen in love with Kiyoomi’s ghost –”
“Who said I was a ghost?”
Bokuto hauls Akaashi behind him. Iwaizumi’s blood races. Kuroo shouts and whips his flashlight around.
As real as the group themselves, Sakusa stands in the foyer – not translucent and not floating, unlike his companion. Atsumu hides his face in Kiyoomi’s throat, cradled against him. He is the color of moonlit-silver.
Kiyoomi smirks. “Iwaizumi,” he says. “I’ve watched you for a long time – Oikawa as well. I watched the two of you grow up.”
Ice claws his spine. “Where is he?”
“I imagine you’ve already gathered that he’s not here,” Kiyoomi says. “And he’s not like Atsumu, either. I’ve kept him waiting for you.”
Iwaizumi’s voice rises. “Where is he?”
Kiyoomi lifts his chin. “If you want him back,” he says. “You’ll have to prove yourself.”
“Iwaizumi,” Kuroo hisses. “He’s a demon.”
Desperation harshens Iwaizumi’s words. “What do you want then? My life? My soul? Take them!” A tear flashes down his cheek. “All I want is him.”
“I know.” He raises his hand and curls it in the position to snap his fingers. “So go get him.”
Kiyoomi snaps his fingers and the house explodes into flames.
Iwaizumi’s gaze darts around in panic to see no one around him before the ceiling falls in. He lunges out of the way and scrambles to the floor. The crash of support beams shakes the world and he realizes he’s completely alone – both the group as well as Kiyoomi and Atsumu are gone.
A shout from the second story has life itself stilling.
“Tooru,” Iwaizumi breathes. “Tooru!”
He stumbles to the stairs, shucking off his jacket when it catches fire. He crawls beneath a wave of smoke in the hallway to the last bedroom on the right. He kicks the door in. “Tooru!”
Through the glittering embers and black haze, Tooru looks up from his crouch on the floor. He locks gaze with Iwaizumi and it’s like lightening to the heart.
“Iwa-chan,” Tooru whispers. Iwaizumi could hear him from a thousand miles away.
Iwaizumi hurries through ribbons of flames to hold Tooru to him. He still smells the same under the ash; clean and warm. Tooru holds him with his fists knotted in Iwaizumi’s shirt, breathing against his throat.
Iwaizumi pulls back with Tooru’s face in his hands. Tears streak the ash on their face, and Iwaizumi kisses him. Tooru sighs against it and rakes through Iwaizumi’s hair, and Tooru is so real with his ricochet pulse and hungry hands.
Iwaizumi could die in the feeling.
Kenma called the fire department as soon as the group appeared outside the house. They shout for Iwaizumi, but the roar of the flames is livid. Like a monster, it eats at the structure, crawling across the walls to lick the floors to ash. To see such an old home collapse into itself – it sends hopelessness through the group.
Kenma gasps. “There they are!”
It's hard to see through the contrast of black night and burning flame, but sure enough, Iwaizumi and another man are breaking through a bedroom on the second floor to leap down into the bushes. Iwaizumi cries out and they rush toward him.
The unknown man tries to pull Iwaizumi from the bushes, but Iwaizumi’s leg is bent askew at the knee. Kuroo and Bokuto grab an arm from either side and help him limp to the tech van. Once he’s settled, the four ghost hunters turn and regard the unknown man.
The oncoming firetruck sirens flash red over his face, which is covered in ash. Even so, he beams. “I’m Oikawa.”
It's impossible to pry Oikawa and Iwaizumi away from one another while Iwaizumi’s leg gets checked in the hospital. It’s a clean break, but he’ll need a cast and crutches. Kuroo, Kenma, Bokuto, and Akaashi park their vans in the lot and come to Iwaizumi’s room whenever he’s not sleeping.
Oikawa never leaves his side.
Iwaizumi lazes their fingers together as he lies in the hospital bed. “So,” he croaks, voice rough from smoke-inhalation. “How are you alive?”
Oikawa takes his time kissing each of Iwaizumi’s fingers before answering. “All those years ago, the fire started originally when Kiyoomi tried his hand at time travel to find – what was his name?”
“Atsumu?”
“Yeah, that one. Kiyoomi went to the wrong year but the right bedroom where Atsumu died.”
Iwaizumi’s eyes sink closed in dread. “Your room.”
“Mmhmm. The fire started in Kiyoomi’s frustration – but it wasn’t my time to die, he said. So, he took me to another realm and kept me there until now.”
Iwaizumi frowns. “What was it like?”
“I don’t remember much, honestly. But I do remember waiting for you.”
Iwaizumi cups his face. “I’m sorry it took me so long.”
Oikawa smiles when Iwaizumi smears the tears off his face.
Iwaizumi says, “I think he burned down the house this time because everyone finally found peace. There was no need for it anymore.”
“Guess so.”
“Knock-knock.” Bokuto peeks around the door. The rest of the group files in – Akaashi sits on Bokuto’s thigh while Kuroo sits on the floor with Kenma’s forearm propped on his shoulder.
Kemna says, “I’ve been doing some research on demonology, and it might not be a good idea for anyone else to find out that Oikawa-san is alive. This realm –” He gestures to the room itself. “Is unstable enough. When you cross our realm with the demonic or the holy, things can fall out of place and have determinantal effects.”
For one, Iwaizumi is surprised because he’s never heard Kenma talk so much. Secondly, he’s quite alright to have Tooru to himself, but – “Not even his parents?”
Kenma makes a face. “I’m not sure if it would be wise.”
“But we could do more research about it on the road,” Bokuto beams.
Iwaizumi now realizes how the group is looking at him. Carefully, he repeats, “’We’?”
Kuroo stretches out his legs. “We’d hate to take you from the wonderful world of roofing, Iwaizumi-san, but you really were a natural with ghost hunting and finding your boyfriend in the lost realm of purgatory, all that. We know you two are a package deal.”
Iwaizumi blinks. “You want us to go on the road with you?”
“Why not?”
Well damn. Really, why not?
Oikawa sighs, “Do we have to live in a van, too?”
“Afraid so,” Kuroo smirks.
Iwaizumi finds himself smiling at Tooru. “I could be happy with you in a van.”
Oikawa pouts before giving it up and lacing their fingers tighter together. “I think I could be happy, too.”
