Chapter Text
If you approached anyone who had just come away from their first meeting with Bokuto and Akaashi and asked, which of them is the Sentinel, and which of them is the Guide, most people would tell you, Bokuto is the Sentinel and Akaashi is the Guide.
If they played, or were familiar with the world of volleyball, they would tell you that while it was not rare for a Sentinel not to be playing setter, it was unconventional for a Guide to be playing that position when there are Sentinels on the team.
But they would tell you that Akaashi's instincts for setting were second to no Sentinel, and above all, his ability to control his Sentinel and draw out the loud owl's full talents on the court proved to be invaluable to the Fukuroodani team.
They were all wrong, because they had never seen Akaashi play without Bokuto.
Well, they were not wrong about Akaashi being different, or about his skill as a setter, but anyone who thinks Akaashi was the one drawing out the best from Bokuto knew nothing.
It was the opposite, and it was becoming clearer and clearer with every second that this match was going on.
With Bokuto subbed out and sent to the infirmary having landed on his foot wrong after a spike, Fukuroodani was spiraling quite quickly into a desperate situation. Akaashi tuned up his hearing and sight to better judge how to compensate for their missing ace, and his touch to increase the accuracy of his tosses.
Higher, faster, over the opponent's blocks, where they'd never expect, listen, Keiji, how do they move, who do they think you're sending it to, how are they reacting…
Every breath of his teammates was a clue to how ready his weapons were, and every screech of shoes on the court told him where his enemies were. All he had to do was process that information, to strategize, and adapt to the absence of his most formidable, most familiar, and most reliable weapon.
A million sensations stemmed into a billion thoughts, and his head began struggling to catch up to all of them. Time slowed to a halt. The ball remained in the air. What is happening? Why is no one moving? Where are the blocks? Where's my spiker?
Where is Bokuto-san?
“KEIJIIIIIII! I'M HERE!”
As if a key has been slotted into place in Akaashi's brain, the gears in his mind that have grinded to a halt began turning again, and the ball started to drop into his hands. He could see now, with clarity. Yes, it was time to send the ball to the other side of the court.
Needless to say, Akaashi joined Bokuto on the bench right after that point. A Sentinel was required to sit out of a game for at least half an hour after coming out of a zone. In fact, their coach blamed himself for not subbing Akaashi out the moment Bokuto had been sent off. It was a foolish decision, made from a mix of desperation and confidence that the setter would perform just fine.
But he could hardly be blamed, either, for none of the Fukuroodani members nor their teachers have ever seen Akaashi on the court without Bokuto being in the same hall at once. They could never have known just how deep their bond went, nor just how dependent the setter was on his Guide.
Now that the two of them were standing in the reserves area, huddled together, it was clear. At one glance, Bokuto was wrapped all around Akaashi, as if personally blocking the world from reaching his Sentinel with his larger body. Akaashi seemed to be making full use of his own smaller stature to slot himself as far within his Guide's embrace, anchoring all his senses on the presence of his Guide.
On a closer look, however, one would be able to tell that Bokuto's weight was actually being supported by Akaashi. His crutch laid near the coach bench, out of the way. The other reserved members of the team formed a protective circle around the pair, as if to shield them from prying eyes.
Whether that had helped or not was a secret to everyone but the Sentinel, but he returned to the court in better shape than before, and helped Fukuroodani steal back the final set.
Whenever anyone found out that Bokuto was the Guide in their bond, their first thought would undeniably be, but how?
Bokuto was uncharacteristically loud for a Guide. Anyone could tell that from seconds of meeting him, with or without Akaashi present. No matter where they were, he was always vying for his Sentinel’s attention, calling out his name more often than necessary.
“Keiji, did you see my super straight spike!?” or “Keiji… I failed my math mid-terms… Comfort meeee…” or “I need new volleyball shoes, Keiji, come with me to the mall on saturday!!”
And he was not the only one who sought Akaashi’s attention, even if he was the only one who got it in the end. Akaashi’s natural beauty and cool attitude made him the object of many Guides’ desires, and the bravest of them, as well as the most ill-informed of them, would approach him asking for him to consider them as his Guide.
“I’m sorry, but I’m already bonded with a Guide,” was always how he would reply.
Unwilling to give up without a fight, they would press on. Who is it?
“My captain.”
Those who did not know whom he referred to would give up, believing they had no chance. Those who did, however, suddenly felt like they had a chance. If they could not get Akaashi to break the bond on his own, they could attack from the other side.
Thus, Bokuto often found himself called out to the back of the school. Well, sometimes Guides would call him out after watching his matches and mistaking him for a Sentinel. Once in a while, however, he would get Guides calling him out to try to intimidate him into breaking his bond with Akaashi.
The conversation typically went like this:
“I hear you're the Guide bonded to Akaashi-san?” Depending on the speaker, the suffix behind Akaashi's name varied.
Bokuto, cheerful as ever, would perk up at the mention of his Sentinel. “Yep! Do you know Akaashi? He's an amazing Sentinel and a great setter! He always sets to me when I want it!”
“If he's such a great Sentinel, don't you think he deserves a Guide who suits him?”
The Guide would then take Bokuto's silence as a cue that their words are hitting the right soft spots. Apparently, the volleyball team captain was also insecure about his place beside Akaashi. This would work in their favor. This is all for Akaashi's good, they remind themselves, purposely ignoring the waves of what they assume is sadness rolling off their fellow Guide.
“Bokuto-san, right? I mean no offense, but I don't think you're a very good Guide, and I think deep down, you agree with me. You must know very well that you're louder than a Guide should be, and your appearance is too stimulating for a Sentinel's senses.
With every accusation, Bokuto's mood drops, and his fidgeting becomes more and more evident.
“Playing volleyball means you will be sweating more than a normal Guide, which makes your scent come out more, and the calluses I'm sure form on your hands will also aggravate your Sentinel's sense of touch.
“How could you ever hope to anchor Akaashi-san's senses, let alone bring him out of a zone?” The Guide would wrap up their argument by driving the final nail in the coffin.
Then, they would lean back, as if leaving Bokuto to come to his own conclusion regarding what he should do. Ideally, he would be as smart as people say he is, and volunteer to leave Akaashi. Otherwise…
“Akaashi loves me for who I am. He loves my loudness, he loves my spikes, he loves playing volleyball with me. He’s said so many times.”
“Are you sure? Because it sounds to me like he’s trying to convince himself that he’s made the right choice, binding himself to you. After all, you and I both know that only Guides can break a bond.”
Bokuto would shake his head vigorously. “Why would I be the wrong choice? I’m one of Japan’s top five aces! And we bonded almost immediately after we met, almost right after he awakened - it’s proof of how compatible we are!”
“That just means he was desperate then. He was a lost Sentinel, latching onto the first Guide in sight and settling for them. And that just so happened to be you.”
“But he loves me! He always tells me that, after-”
“After Guides like you try to intimidate him into leaving me.”
A third voice interrupts the Guides. Bokuto would look up - when did he start looking down at his feet? - but the familiar voice already sang in his ears, cluing him in on the new arrival. The other Guide would also look towards the source of the voice, then sputter out, “You called him here!? How dare you!?”
“No, how dare you insult my Guide?” Akaashi would walk over to Bokuto, slotting himself between his Guide and the stranger while simultaneously pressing his back against Bokuto’s chest, hoping his own touch would sooth the Guide. He was not trying to anchor Bokuto’s senses like a Guide would do for a zoning Sentinel, but rather to reassure Bokuto that he was now there, and there was nothing to fear anymore. Akaashi was here, and he was on Bokuto’s side. Now, and forever.
“Akaashi…”
“It’s alright, Bokuto-san, I got this.” He would then train his gaze on the Guide in front of him. His tone was gentle - Akaashi was considered gentle for a Sentinel, and he had already reined in his anger from half a minute ago. Nevertheless, his words left no room for argument.
“Let me make this clear, even though neither of us owe you any explanation or justification, that I am happily bonded with Bokuto-san, as Sentinel and Guide. Even if I hadn’t met him when I did, I would never have settled for another Guide.”
Akaashi always considered it his good fortune that he had only awoken as a Sentinel in high school, and even then, in the vicinity of Bokuto. It happened during the first volleyball team practice in his first year. He had just walked into the gymnasium, after feeling slightly queasy the whole day during classes. On hindsight, those were presages of his awakening, as his senses slowly sharpened throughout the day without his knowledge or consent.
The moment he set foot in the gym, however, the sights - every little stubborn sweat stain on the floor, every tassel of the slightly faded maroon curtain hanging from the ceiling on stage - the sounds - of his soon-to-be teammates chatting amongst themselves, of their heartbeats quickening in excitement at the entrance of a new potential teammate (him) - the smells (remnants of the soapy water used to mop the floor just one, no, two days ago), the feel of his two-year-old volleyball shoes through his socks, all these sensations invaded his senses at once.
And then he was down.
He had no recollection of what happened up to the point he returned to the world, but from Bokuto’s recount (backed by the eyewitness accounts of countless other members), several Guides had tried to pull him out of his very first zone, but Bokuto had stayed back, shushing the Sentinels present.
According to these accounts, none of the Guides had succeeded, but one of them had noticed his hand weakly grabbing at thin air, and when he looked in the direction it pointed at, his gaze arrived at Bokuto’s still body. Bokuto had a hand over his mouth, likely to silence himself - he knew that he was a loud person, everyone seemed to keep reminding him. It would be bad if they lost a potential new member because of him.
But the Guide gestured for the spiker to come over. The closer Bokuto got, the quicker Akaashi’s hand seemed to claw, and once the Guide was in range, the hand latched onto his wrist, jerking him forward and downwards with strength that is surprising for a Sentinel in zone.
The other Guides backed away slowly, herding the Sentinels out of the hall with hand signs rather than speech. Thinking back on it now, thought, they realized that they could have all run off squawking like seagulls and it wouldn’t have made a difference. Akaashi’s senses have all but zoned in on Bokuto’s presence, now that the Guide was lying on top of him (a fortune position resulting from a haphazard jerk) and literally shielding him from the world.
Bokuto was uncharacteristically quiet, his body stiff as it laid on top of the Sentinel. Unexpectedly, however, Akaashi fought through his slowly receding zone to force the next words out with a raspy voice. “Ta...lk… to me…”
So Bokuto talks. He introduces himself, talks about how he loves volleyball, how he wants to be the ace of the team despite his awkward position within the current team - they called him an unknown variable. He wonders aloud what Akaashi’s name was, that it must be a very pretty name to match his very pretty face and hair; he wonders what position Akaashi would play, hopefully setter, and he recalls that they were getting a first year setter, from the application forms they had received during orientation.
Never before had Bokuto ever worked to bring a Sentinel out of a zone. It was not as though it was a rare occurrence - Sentinels came online every other day around their age, and Guides around would all have to aid in bringing them out of their first zone, regardless of whether they were their fated Guide or not. Bokuto had always been instructed to stand on the sidelines, deemed too loud, in every sense of the word, for a Sentinel’s sensitive faculties. It goes without saying, therefore, that Bokuto had no idea what he was doing. He tried to recall what he had learned during their specialized classes, during the week on zoning.
Something about… anchoring… all senses… All the senses? Humans had five senses… Sight, smell, hearing, touch and… taste.
How did one go about anchoring a Sentinel’s sense of taste? He wracks his brain for memories of all the times he had watched the other Guides working on a newly-awoken Sentinel classmate’s first zone.
He does not recall having ever seen anyone slip anything in the zoned Sentinels’ mouths… But there had always been a whole crowd of Guides gathered around, he could never see what was going on clearly.
An idea darted across his mind, and he was so tempted to just shoot it down, but that was the only one he had so far. And if he had to lose his first kiss to someone as pretty as the Sentinel below him now, then, well, he supposed his own future Sentinel would forgive him for it.
Mind made up, Bokuto leaned down and presses his lips against the unnamed Sentinel’s lips. Gently, he guides the other’s lips open, until he can slip his tongue in to find its companion. Akaashi’s tongue was unresponsive, much like the rest of his other muscles, but Bokuto forgave him on the grounds that he was, quite literally, zoned.
Bokuto’s tongue maneuvers around Akaashi’s, licking the top of his mouth, stroking the taste buds on the top side of his tongue, then finding its way below to caress the other side. It was a systematic way of ensuring Akaashi’s sense of taste was focused on him, even if the words “systematic” and “Bokuto” hardly ever go together in one sentence.
All of a sudden, Akaashi’s tongue jerks to life, retreats inwards, then darts forward to tangle with Bokuto’s. A moan escapes the Sentinel’s throat, a sure sign that he was alive and kicking again.
And then his eyes open to reveal blue-green orbs. Bokuto unintentionally pulls away from the kiss to get a better look at them. They stare into each others’ eyes, one still dazed and the other fascinated.
“Uh… I can explain.” It suddenly occurred to Bokuto that he was lying on top of Akaashi, and caught kissing him. Thinking Akaashi might not appreciate that, he hastily flails and tries to climb off, but finds himself unable to.
Akaashi’s arms were wrapped tight around his waist (when had they gotten there?), keeping him in place. And in his raspy voice, the Sentinel speaks.
“Bond with me.”
Akaashi would not go into the story of how they had met and bonded. He would not even explain how his senses were more heightened than the average Sentinel’s, or how an average Guide would never have been able to anchor his senses.
Instead, he would recall one of their previous accusations.
“What you said before, about settling? I did not settle for Bokuto-san, I was blessed that he was there for me when I came online. Therefore I’m sorry, I cannot return your feelings. I kindly ask you to refrain from harassing me or my Guide in the future, or I cannot say for certain what I would do.”
At this, almost all the Guides who had come this far would silently nod and shuffle away in shame. Very rarely did things escalate to the point of violence, or alerting a teacher.
Each and every time after something like this happens, however, Akaashi would turn to face Bokuto, meeting his slightly higher gaze and telling him, “I’m sorry I came late.”
Bokuto would shake his head, spirits lifted since his Sentinel’s arrival. They would walk back to Bokuto’s classroom to collect his bag, then head home or head to practice. In his usual boisterous manner, the third-year Guide would say, “Thanks for coming, Keiji, but I had it all under control! If you came just two minutes later, you would have seen how I invalidated all their arguments! Is that the right way to use the word ‘invalidate’?”
When Akaashi laughed at how adorable his 185cm-tall Guide gets trying to utilize new vocabulary, Bokuto would suddenly turn stop mid-step, pinching Akaashi’s sleeve-end until the Sentinel turned around to face him before saying, with a serious face,
“I’m your Guide - I will never leave you.”
Naturally, Akaashi would surge up into Bokuto’s embrace, and their lips would meet in a kiss as deep as their bond went.
Bokuto was different from the other Guides. Bokuto was loud. But with one shout of Akaashi’s name, he was able to drown out all the rest of the white noise assaulting the Sentinel’s ears. When he came into sight, it was as if all the light rays in the world converged on him, eclipsing everything else in Akaashi’s eyes.
And Akaashi would never ask him to change.