Anisle
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- Haikyuu!! (14)
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“So, uh… Atsumu and Sakusa invited me up ta Hokkaido fer the long weekend next month. Hot springs and whatnot. They said I should bring someone. Asked if I’d invite ya.”
Keiji blinked, letting that sink in. “They invited you to a couples trip,” he said slowly, “and your solution was to bring me?”
Osamu chuckled, voice slipping lower, smoother. “It’ll be fun. Atsumu’s payin’ anyway.”
“Ah. The magic phrase.” Keiji pretended to think it over. “Free food, free lodging, the faint possibility of witnessing your brother behave like a human being. I suppose that’s worth the psychological damage.”
“Ya mean yer in?” Osamu sounded far too pleased.
“I suppose I am,” Keiji said, careful not to sound like he was smiling, though he very much was. “If only to prevent you from being emotionally scarred by your brother’s romantic getaway.”
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Akaashi Keiji’s Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day at Training Camp by Anisle
Fandoms: Haikyuu!!
25 Dec 2025
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Akaashi froze, chopsticks hovering midair. His heartbeat stumbled. Oh no.
The realization didn’t creep in. It slammed. No dramatic music. No epiphany. Just one clean, catastrophic truth dropping into his brain like a brick: I am in love with him. He glanced sideways. Bokuto was laughing again, bright and unbothered. His energy filled the air like sunlight: loud, impossible to ignore, a little too much, but warm in ways Akaashi could never admit.
Akaashi cleared his throat, focusing on his miso soup with the intensity of a monk contemplating enlightenment. It’s fine, he told himself. You’ll move past it. You’ll compartmentalize, repress, and die peacefully at age 87 having never mentioned it to anyone.
But then Bokuto nudged his elbow. “Akaashi, you didn’t laugh at my joke. You okay?”
Akaashi turned, and the sight of Bokuto smiling, made his stomach swoop traitorously. He forced his expression neutral, voice steady. “I was… conserving my energy for practice.”
Bokuto blinked, then laughed, easy and bright again. “You’re so serious all the time!”
Akaashi smiled back, betraying nothing. Inside, he was unraveling at a molecular level.
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Keiji had made peace with many things in his life. Deadlines that multiplied like hydrangeas in June. Bokuto’s sudden, unshakable whims. The fact that Tokyo summers were engineered by the gods to remind mortals that air-conditioning was not a right but a privilege.
What he had not made peace with was sitting next to Miya Osamu on a packed train for three hours.
It wasn’t even his choice. He hadn’t been given the dignity of choosing. Atsumu, naturally, had smirked, shoved Osamu sideways with the casual cruelty of a twin who’d had a lifetime to perfect it, and said, “Ya sit with Akaashi. He won’t bite.”
Which was technically true, but at this rate, Keiji was starting to reconsider.
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The night had folded in on itself. Heavy, airless, and unkind. Keiji sat slumped over his desk, his pen hovering above a half-finished paragraph, the smell of rain pressing against the window.
He didn’t know that tomorrow would vanish for seven years.
When Keiji wakes again, he’s twenty-seven, not twenty; the rain has stopped, and the world has moved on without him. Memories fracture, time blurs, and the faces beside his hospital bed—some known, some painfully unknown—begin to piece together a life he once lived and a love he almost lost.
A story about forgetting, and the quiet, stubborn ways we find our way home again.
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“Where do you want me?” Akaashi asked.
The question was so straightforward, so practical, that it took Osamu a full beat to answer. His brain supplied several places that had nothing to do with onigiri, and he nearly choked on air.
“Counter,” he said at last, forcing his voice flat. “It’s delicate. Needs someone who won’t panic when there’s a line out the door. Think you can handle that?”
“Yes.” No hesitation.
Of course not. Akaashi Keiji wasn’t built to hesitate.