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Tadashi examined the half-crescents on his palms with a detached interest. He was hurt by their loss, of course, but in hindsight it felt almost unreal, especially being trapped on the sidelines the whole game, helpless to assist and feeling more useless with every lost set. Tadashi raised his head and made eye contact with Tsukishima, who was standing at the door to the locker room, bag slung over his shoulder. Tsukishima raised his eyebrows when he saw Tadashi looking at him. Tadashi scrambled to pick his bag up and sling it over his shoulder to join his best friend in leaving the school. They caught up with the rest of the team as they were piling onto the bus. Everyone was quiet, filing into their seats. Tadashi felt a pang of guilt, looking at the exhausted and disappointed faces of his teammates. What right did he have to feel upset or angry at their loss? He didn’t even get to play. Hinata and Kageyama and even Tsukishima worked so much harder than he did. They were useful, they had skills that could help the team win. Tadashi was…pointless in comparison. An afterthought.
Shuffling along behind Tsukishima toward the back of the bus, Tadashi glanced out the window as they settled into their seats. Just behind their own bus, another had pulled up and was admitting Aoba Johsai, white uniforms almost blinding in the sun. Tadashi spotted him almost immediately, the one who had shown up late game and decimated their team with his terrifying serves. He had a slight limp in his right leg, but his smile was gleaming and a little cheeky, directed at his gruff friend with the short spiky hair. The friend was saying something, and his brows were narrowed in disapproval, but– what was his name? Oikawa?– appeared unfazed by the admonishment, responding with a quip that made a muscle in the other one’s jaw twitch. Oikawa tilted his head back to laugh, and despite himself Tadashi’s breath caught. He really was very pretty.
“–guchi? Hey.” Fingers snapped in his face, and Tadashi startled. Tsukishima arched one pale brow.
“Huh? Oh, sorry, Tsukki.” Tadashi grinned and ducked his head on reflex. “I was just zoned out.”
“Hm.” Tsukishima stared at him for a second longer, gold eyes like flat coins behind his glasses. Whatever he saw in Tadashi’s face must have satisfied whatever questions he had, as he handed Tadashi an earbud without further comment and leaned back against the seat, closing his eyes. Tadashi stuck the earbud in his ear and settled in, reaching for his bag to check his phone. It was only when his gaze fell on his hands that he jumped so hard he almost jerked the cord from his ear.
There, on his right pinkie, was a vibrant red string, tied with a small bow. Tadashi reached out on instinct to touch it, and it felt real under his hand, soft like cotton. He knew no one else would be able to see it, but he shot a glance at Tsukishima anyways, and had to smother his relief when his friend’s eyes remained closed. A second later the implications of what he was seeing hit, and Tadashi’s eyes snapped up to the window. The Soul Tie only appeared when one was within twenty feet of their soulmate, and since Tadashi had been in the presence of his teammates plenty of times before, that meant…
The bus started to pull away, and Tadashi held his breath, for a moment hoping that maybe he’d been mistaken, his Soul Tie was just late in manifesting, that his soulmate was on the bus with him, was maybe even Tsukishima like he’d hoped when he was a kid.
No such luck. Tadashi stared at his hand and watched the tie disappear as the bus pulled away from the school. His gaze flickered back up to the window, straining to catch a glimpse as though his soulmate would have a sign plastered on their chest. The bus turned a corner, and Tadashi slumped back in his seat, staring at his blank hand. His brain almost refused to acknowledge what had happened, but there was no way around it.
Tadashi’s soulmate was on Seijoh’s volleyball team.
For a few days, Tadashi agonized over whether or not to tell Tsukishima about his discovery. It wasn’t that he thought his best friend wouldn’t believe him, but he honestly didn’t know how to bring it up. What did you say in a situation like this? “Oh, hey, by the way, the person I’m literally connected to by a unique and unseverable romantic bond is on the team that just crushed us, and also I don’t know which one it is so that’s cool.” On top of that, Tadashi couldn’t help the surprise at learning he had a soulmate at all. Logically, he knew that the likelihood of not having a soulmate was infinitesimal, even in comparison so the rather unlikely chance of finding one’s soulmate while they were still in high school. It didn’t stop the voices in his mind that whispered he was too unlovable, too average and lackluster to merit his Soul Tie developing at all. It was a simultaneous relief and ever greater source of worry. How would his soulmate react? What if he was disappointed in what he saw in Tadashi? All the rumors he’d ever heard about soulmates meeting and breaking up flashed through his mind. Much about Soul Ties was poorly understood, including what and how soulmates were chosen. As such, if a failure occurred– also extremely rare, Tadashi reminded himself– little was known as to why.
These thoughts, as well as the burden of how to bring it up with Tsukishima, weighed on Tadashi so heavily that he spent the next day and a half in an unfocused haze, drifting through class without really paying attention and zoning out during practice. He kept rubbing at his right pinkie, only to realize what he was doing and curl his hands into fists at his sides. He nearly took a volleyball to the face, Hinata-style, while in a practice match against the other first years. Tanaka and Noya laughed at him, but Tsukishima shot him a sharp look across the net that had Tadashi hunching his shoulders despite himself. After all the years they’d been friends, Tsukishima always knew him better than anyone.
Fortunately, Tsukishima waited until they were walking home after practice to broach the subject. Usually they walked home in relative silence, Tsukishima either putting on his headphones or letting Tadashi do most of the talking, offering the occasional nod and dry comment. Tonight, he left his headphones around his neck, and Tadashi felt the anxiety roll in his gut. He tried to fill the silence with aimless chatter, but the more he talked the more nervous he became, until he finally stumbled into awkward quiet. The silence hung between them, Tadashi agonizing over whether to break it again and Tsukishima walking with his hands shoved in his pockets, face composed as usual.
Finally, Tsukishima sighed. He slowed his pace until he stopped at a streetlight a few blocks from their respective houses. Tadashi skittered to a halt next to him.
“Yamaguchi.” Tsukishima’s face was devoid of emotion, but his tone was a hint softer than usual. “What’s wrong?”
Tadashi gulped. He offered a weak smile. “I…don’t know what you mean?”
Tsukishima let out a small huff through his nose. He ticked off items on his fingers. “Yesterday you didn’t write a single note down for class. Today I offered you the last of my french fries and you declined. You almost got hit by a volleyball during practice which, while funny, is more of a Hinata move.” Tsukishima crossed his arms. “I’m just saying, you’re acting weird.”
Tadashi sighed. “It’s…there’s something,” he admitted. His fingers twisted in front of him, seeking out the base of his pinkie. Tsukishima’s eyes tracked the movement. They widened almost imperceptibly and snapped back up to meet Tadashi’s gaze. Tadashi gulped.
“…Do you know who?” Tsukishima asked. Tadashi shook his head.
“All I know is it’s–” Tadashi stopped and ran a hand through his hair, still damp from sweat. “He’s on Seijoh’s volleyball team.”
Silence. Tadashi raised his eyes from the ground to find Tsukishima with a hand over his mouth, trying to smother his grin.
“It’s not funny!” Tadashi complained, slapping at Tsukishima’s arm. Tsukishima ducked out of range, shit-eating expression still plastered to his face. Seeing it gave Tadashi a rush of embarrassment and relief in equal parts. Tsukishima was still his friend, he reminded himself. He had never had anything to worry about.
“I can’t believe–“ Tsukishima cut himself off with a small giggle. “Out of all the people in the world, one of them? I hope it’s the onion head.”
“No!”
“Ooh, or maybe the grumpy one, with the spikey hair. He’s just your type.”
“Tsukki,” Tadashi whined. He covered his face, feeling his cheeks heat. “What am I supposed to do?”
Tsukishima got himself under control at last, smothering the last of his humor with his fist to his mouth. They resumed their walk home, Tsukishima doing nothing to hide the amused quirk to his lips. He shrugged. “Find him?”
“How?”
“Just ask. I doubt it would be the first time.”
Tadashi wrinkled his nose. “Maybe, but…it’s embarrassing.”
Tsukishima raised an eyebrow. “Why? Don’t you want to find him?”
“I mean, yeah, but it’s weird to just go up and ask people if they’re my soulmate, don’t you think?”
Tsukishima considered this. “No.”
Tadashi sighed. “Easy for you to say.” It had long been established that Tsukishima believed himself to be one of those rare cases of those who never manifested a Soul Tie. Unlike Tadashi, however, this fact didn’t bother him. In truth, he welcomed it, considering romantic attachments to be a waste of time. Tadashi envied that lack of concern even more now, considering recent developments.
Tsukishima shrugged. “I just don’t think it needs to be a big deal. Following social custom is stupid. Who knows when we’ll see them again? You don’t have a lot of time left if he’s a third year.”
Tadashi felt his skin prickle at the thought. He hadn’t even considered it. His hands came up again to worry at his finger.
They reached the path leading up to Tsukishima’s house, and he paused at the gate. “Coming?”
Tadashi gave it some thought before giving an apologetic shake of the head. “Not tonight, I need to catch up on that work I didn’t do in class.” He grinned, somewhat sheepish. Tsukishima snorted and rolled his eyes.
“Good idea.”
Tadashi turned to go, but Tsukishima’s voice stopped him. “Yamaguchi?”
“Hm?”
“…Don’t worry about it.”
Tadashi turned back, but Tsukishima was already disappearing inside his front door. Tadashi huffed a laugh and turned down the street for home. His anxiety about the soulmate issue hadn’t abated, but he felt comforted, somehow, in the face of Tsukishima’s characteristic apathy. His cool logic helped, too. Tadashi sighed as he reached the front door to his house and dug around in his pocket for the key. All he could do, he supposed, was wait for another opportunity to arise and go from there.
Unfortunately, while Tadashi’s second opportunity did arise, it came along with a defeat so crushing as to cast a pall over himself and the entire team. Tadashi kept replaying the moment in his head, tormenting himself. Stepping up to the line, the ball clutched in sweaty fingers. Seeing the whole court laid out before him, the intensity of the players’ gazes across the net, locked on to his every move. In the moment Tadashi couldn’t help but spare a thought for his soulmate, who was likely watching him, evaluating, judging his every move. In this moment, he probably hated him.
It couldn’t be more than how much Tadashi hated himself, though, watching the ball bounce off the court on their side of the net. His hands dropped to his sides, and he had to swallow hard to keep the lump in his throat from choking him. The rest of the game was a blur of emotion, tension curling behind his shoulders like a spring, watching Karasuno throw themselves into the game with enough fervor that he could feel their energy from the sidelines. This made the loss all the more devastating.
Tadashi found himself alone in the locker room again, packing his bag up. He felt lightheaded and weak, both from the adrenaline letdown and the near-suffocating sense of disappointment in himself. He’d been part of the reason they’d lost. His failure, his lack of skill had set the whole team back. If he’d been smarter like Tsukishima, or faster like Hinata, or even more focused under pressure the way Kageyama was, he could’ve scored the point for them and changed the whole game. But instead he’d fucked up, as usual, and now they were going home with nothing to show for all the growth they’d done.
Tadashi had sent Tsukishima along ahead this time, so he was alone when he heard the voices outside the locker room. He had just taken a few steps toward the door when the Soul Tie on his hand flared to life, the red a strong enough contrast to his tanned freckled skin that it drew his eye.
Tadashi’s breath caught in his throat. He stood, frozen, torn between what to do. Tsukishima’s words echoed in his head. On one hand, he could throw the typical social customs to the wind and publicly declare he was looking for his soulmate, though it was frowned upon to flaunt claims like that openly. The Soul Tie was considered an extremely private and personal affair, discussed only with those closest in a person’s life. It was essentially the same as walking around and having a detailed conversation about his sex life with strangers. Tadashi couldn’t quite get past that, even if it would make his life easier. The anxiety of being wrong about the identity of his soulmate, or worse, that they would reject him, weighed too heavily on his mind. He couldn’t handle two failures like that in the same day.
Tadashi took a few steps back, until the Tie faded and he was safe from discovery. If he couldn’t approach it head on, he supposed, he could at least try and get some information. The voices were still outside the door, though somewhat indistinct. The thought of being found made his heart thump in his chest, but there was only one exit out of the locker room, and whoever was out there would see him if he tried to leave.
“–you’re pushing yourself too hard again, I’m telling you–“
A laugh. “Iwa-chan, you’re such a worrywart! Your face will freeze if you frown so much, you know.” This voice was less gruff than the first, with a playful lilt that the owner of the first voice was familiar with, judging by the resigned sigh that followed these words.
“Whatever, just ice your knee, Shittykawa. And don't try and play in your binder, idiot!” A small pause. “Do you think we got lucky today?”
The second voice scoffed. “No. We earned it, like we always do.” Tadashi blinked, hearing the lightness of the tone underlined with an edge. “…but they got closer this time,” the second person admitted, sounding reluctant to say it.
“Yeah, Kageyama and that orange-haired kid were monsters together.”
The second person hummed in agreement. “Little bastard, he’s changed.” This said with a hint of grudging respect, but mostly disdain. “All those first years have potential. Did you see the pinch server, the cute one with the freckles?”
“What?” A snort. “Yeah, but what about him? You could tell it was his first time pinch serving like that.”
“Mmhm,” the second person agreed, drawing out the syllables in consideration. “But jump float serves, when they’re perfected, are awful to combat. I hate them.”
“You only hate them because you can’t do them.”
“Shut up, and they’re difficult to strategize against.”
“All right, all right, what’s your point?”
“I’m just saying you shouldn’t discount someone just because they don’t have natural talent, Iwaizumi.”
“Well, Oikawa, I’m not. I’m just saying the scrawny pinch server trying to perfect a serve even you can’t do right is low on the list of concerns– ow!”
“I think I remember a certain freckled scrawny kid who couldn’t serve very well either, I wonder who that could be?”
Iwaizumi grumbled an indistinct reply, and Oikawa laughed. “That’s what I thought.”
“Yeah, whatever. C’mon, let’s go, Yahaba wants to know where we are.”
“Did you tell him we were making out under the bleachers?”
“Shut up, you’re an idiot.”
Their voices started to fade, and Tadashi let out the breath he’d been holding in a whoosh. He scrambled to put his bag back on his shoulder and exit the locker room as quickly as he could. He didn’t think to glance around before stepping out into the hallway, and as such only made it a few steps before he heard, “Iwa-chan, I forgot something– hm?”
Tadashi jumped and whirled around. Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime– captain and vice captain of Aoba Johsai, respectively– stood behind him. Even worse, they were standing roughly ten feet away. Tadashi hid his right hand behind his back.
“What’re you doing here?” Iwaizumi said, both brows raised. He didn’t sound particularly hostile, but Tadashi squeaked all the same.
“I– um, well– I’ve gotta–” Tadashi babbled, unable to form a sentence. He skittered backwards and turned to flee without another word. His hand came up to steady the strap on his shoulder, and behind him he heard an intake of breath.
“Hey, wait!” Tadashi did not heed these words, nearly sprinting out of the building and making a beeline for the bus, where Coach Ukai was standing, arms folded and with an unhappy frown. Unbeknownst to him, Oikawa Tooru stood in an empty hallway, arm outstretched, staring at the spot on his hand where moments before, an innocuous red string had been tied around his finger.
It was down to two. But, of course it had to be the two Tadashi could never have imagined being paired up with him. Iwaizumi Hajime was attractive in a muscled, masculine way that definitely appealed to Tadashi’s sensibilities. He’d found himself distracted more than once when he would connect with a spike, arm muscles flexing when he would slam the ball past their blockers. Not his most loyal moment to his team, for sure.
Oikawa Tooru was another story entirely. He was completely out of Tadashi’s league, for starters. Absolutely gorgeous, an actual idol for many teenaged girls, he put a lot of time and effort into his appearance and it showed. His skill on the volleyball court was no accident, especially not after the way he’d overheard Oikawa talking about his team in the locker room. He remembered a lot of things from that time, particularly the extreme embarrassment and panic he felt while fleeing the scene. Afterward he cursed himself for being so stupid and hasty, but there was nothing for it now. Tadashi kept thinking back to the parts where they’d talked about him, as well, and the confident way Oikawa had spoken about Tadashi’s potential. Nobody had said that about him before, with such simple faith. It twisted something inside him to think about. The way he’d said it, too– you shouldn’t discount someone just because they don’t have natural talent– made Tadashi think that maybe Oikawa wasn’t just being kind.
He’d eventually told Tsukishima about the incident, to his great chagrin. As such, he’d endured Tsukishima’s helpless giggling for a few minutes until he got annoyed and pushed his best friend off the bed they were sharing.
“You’re not being very helpful,” he had informed the curled up lump on the floor. Tsukishima wiped the tears from his eyes and mastered himself with great effort.
“Well,” he said, still gasping, “You’ve only got one opportunity left. If we make it through the Spring Tournament preliminaries, then we have to play them again. Win or lose, that’s your last chance. Unless you happened to grab a phone number while you were sprinting away at top speed.”
Tadashi dropped a pillow on Tsukishima’s face and pressed down very deliberately with the flat of his hand.
“I hope you suffocate,” he told the squirming pillow.
Still, he knew Tsukishima was right. He was running out of chances to do this his way, and if Karasuno couldn’t make it through the Spring High preliminaries then he’d already lost his chance to start with. Tadashi lay awake that night after Tsukishima had fallen asleep, staring at the ceiling. He’d already become stronger since that very first practice match, but the sting of his recent failure in the Interhigh was too fresh in his mind. Tadashi breathed out. Closed his eyes, opened them again.
You shouldn’t discount someone just because they don’t have natural talent–
Well, fine. Then Tadashi wouldn’t discount himself either. He would have to work twice as hard as Kageyama or Hinata, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t succeed as well. He could get better. He would get better. He’d help Karasuno revive their legacy and come out on top if it killed him.
So, Tadashi worked. He threw himself into practice with vigor, served at walls and across the empty gym and pestered Shimada until the man would wince visibly when he saw Tadashi’s determined expression marching toward him. He watched videos online, he tried to force Tsukishima to practice with him (with mixed results), he worked himself to exhaustion and kept going.
Finally, the Spring High preliminaries arrived. Karasuno breezed through their first two matches. Tadashi did not participate in either, but he cheered his teammates on with all the enthusiasm he could muster. In fact, as Karasuno crushed and tore their way through the preliminaries, Tadashi started to wonder if they would ever need him at all. They’d all grown as a team, and Tadashi could see how well they functioned as a unit without him. He felt the pricklings of doubt curl around his heart again.
Then, on the second day of the matches, Karasuno won against Wakutani High. They were allowed a break before their second match of the day. They sat quietly, drinking water and recuperating from the intensity of the last match. There was a tension in the room that no one broke. They all knew what this meant.
Tadashi felt a thrill from the tip of his head to his toes. At last. Instead of the anxiety and fear he’d come to expect, Tadashi felt a rush of adrenaline. He wanted to face off against Aoba Johsai again. He wanted to see their faces, hold the ball in his hands, prove both to them and to himself that he wasn’t that useless first year who got benched after he flubbed a serve when the rest of them were out on the court, blazing like bonfires. A small part of him wondered what Oikawa would think.
The match was the most intense yet. Nekoma might be their true rivals, but Aoba Johsai stood for something different. This was the barrier they kept crashing up against as they tried to climb ever higher. These were the roots that tied them to the ground when they spread their wings. Winning against them was not only necessary, it was vital, on some level. Tadashi could see it in the set of Kageyama’s shoulders, in the vibrating tension of Hinata’s small frame, of the wickedly sharp delight in Noya’s eyes when he received a serve with a sharp slap off his forearms. Their vigor in turn spurred him, his need to be on the court, to help, to do something for a change and do it right.
Finally, finally, Coach Ukai acknowledged the burning energy on the sidelines of the court. Tadashi stepped out into the court for the first time, taking a breath. The terror almost froze him, but somehow he kept moving. The eyes of Aoba Johsai were on him, just like that first time, hungry and intent. Things would be different this time. Tadashi was different this time. He could do this, he had to.
Tadashi raised his head and met the gaze of Oikawa Tooru across the net. Oikawa was watching as closely as the others, but there was something…different in his gaze. It wasn’t the greedy stare of a rival player awaiting a serve. Oikawa looked interested, intrigued. He saw something worth watching.
Tadashi closed his eyes and breathed in through his nose. He exhaled slowly and opened them again, staring down at the ball in his hands. The whistle blew. Tadashi moved.
After the events of the day, Tadashi’s head was whirling. He could hardly believe they’d done it, they’d actually done it. After months of training, failure, training some more, throwing themselves like idiots at a seemingly impossible task, they’d actually…succeeded. Sure, the threat of Shiratorizawa hung over them like a mountain, ready to crush all they’d gained, but for the moment Tadashi felt lighter than air. He grinned and accepted hearty slaps on the back from Tanaka and Noya, the affectionate hair ruffling from Daichi and Suga, the enthusiastic, wide-eyed congratulations from Hinata– “Do you think you could teach me that too sometime?” “Shut up, idiot, you can barely hit a ball with your eyes open.” “I didn’t ask you, Kageyama!”– and the quiet, proud smile Coach Ukai gave him. Tadashi had never felt this warm.
They were all loitering around the entrance, waiting for the bus to arrive. Coach Ukai had told them there’d been a small delay with the bus arrival thanks to a flat tire, so they had some free time before they needed to leave. Tadashi was playing around on his DS, checking in on his Pokemon, when Tsukishima nudged his shoulder with his arm. Tadashi glanced up in question and Tsukishima jerked his head to the left. Tadashi followed his gaze and his stomach did a triple backflip.
Around the corner, just out of sight so as not to be too noticeable, was Oikawa Tooru. He looked uncharacteristically nervous, hands twisting together in front of him. When he saw Tadashi had seen him, he put a finger to his lips and beckoned him over, glancing at the rest of Karasuno to make sure he hadn’t been spotted.
Tadashi’s mouth was dry. He looked over at Tsukishima and found him staring back, head tilted to the side as he watched Tadashi’s reaction.
“It’s now or never,” Tsukishima murmured, low enough so that only Tadashi could hear. “I’ll cover for you.”
Tadashi bit his lip and hesitated for only a second more before shutting his DS and placing it next to Tsukishima. He stood, stuffing his hands into his pockets, and walked with as casual a stride as he could muster over to the corner, where Oikawa had disappeared from view. A few of Karasuno’s members tracked his movement, but behind him Tadashi could hear the clear monotone of Tsukishima insulting Hinata, igniting a fiery response that was more worth paying attention to.
He slipped around the corner without incident and came face to face with Oikawa. Oikawa opened his mouth to say something, hesitated, and snapped it shut with a click.
“C’mon,” he said. “I don’t want Tobio-chan to see that I was here.”
Tadashi nodded and followed along without complaint. The silence was somewhere between awkward and tense, a layer of expectation over the both of them that neither wished to acknowledge just yet. Tadashi knew why he was here, maybe had always known, but he didn’t check his hand yet to confirm. It didn’t feel real, walking along next to Oikawa Tooru, of all people, waiting to see if his life was about to change forever.
They stopped after Oikawa turned another corner. The sounds of Karasuno’s squawking were muffled now, so they wouldn’t be overheard. The lights were dim in this part of the corridor, the only light source from a small glass courtyard to their left, where the sun streamed over a small plastic pond with river rocks in the bottom. Oikawa didn’t seem to know how to start. He shifted from one foot to another, staring at Tadashi. The look on his face was a mix of amusement and a spark of joy, a warmth in his gaze that made Tadashi’s cheeks flush.
“So.” Oikawa broke the silence. “You ran away from me when we met.”
“I–“ Tadashi’s voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I hadn’t wanted either of you to see me.”
“Did you hear what we were saying outside the door?” Oikawa didn’t sound angry, only curious. Tadashi nodded after a moment.
“Did you know which one of us it was?”
“I…no, I didn’t,” Tadashi admitted. “I knew it was someone on Seijoh’s team after the practice match in the summer, but it took until now to really...” He trailed off.
“The practice…” Oikawa laughed. “God, I’m sorry, then. I only knew from the last match in the Interhighs. You’ve been dealing with it a lot longer, huh?”
“Dealing with what?”
“I–“ Oikawa narrowed his eyes at him. “You’re joking, right? You know what–“
“I do,” Tadashi said in a rush. “I just– I need to hear you say it.”
Comprehension flitted over Oikawa’s features. He smiled, not the showy, dazzling grin for his fans, but something smaller, softer. He raised his left hand, moving slowly, as if he would startle Tadashi with a sudden movement. Affixed to his left pinkie was a tiny red string, tied in a bow. Tadashi’s breath caught when he saw it.
“Yamaguchi Tadashi,” Oikawa said, reaching out to brush the hair back from his face, “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Oikawa Tooru, and I’m your soulmate.”
Tadashi clapped a hand over his mouth. Oikawa laughed a little, eyes wet, when he saw the string tied around Tadashi’s own finger, the one only a person’s soulmate could see. He turned his hand, palm up, toward Tadashi. Tadashi took a shaky breath and placed his hand into it, and Oikawa gave it a small squeeze.
“I think we have a lot to talk about,” he said with a grin. “But first, I have an important question, the most important question I’ve ever asked anybody.”
“O-oh yeah?” Tadashi gulped. “What is it?”
“Can you teach me the jump float serve?”
Tadashi burst into laughter.