Chapter Text
No one is born with it. Yet at some point, at some time in their lives, a countdown timer will appear on the non-dominant wrist of every person on earth. Sometimes it will appear in the formative years, as an infant develops into a person all of their own with thoughts and fears and loves and hates and dreams. Oftentimes, the ever-shifting digits will not appear until their teenage years, as emotions shift, driven by hormones and a world they’re just about starting to understand. For some unlucky few, their timer won’t appear until well into adulthood, counting down to an inevitability that cannot be avoided.
It’s known to have triggered more than a few divorces.
It isn’t truly known why the difference in timer appearance varies so widely, though the generally accepted theory is that as a person grows, they shift into a different person, their experiences and the influence of those around them causing an evolution in their personality until they change from someone who isn’t compatible, to someone who is. Every seven years is the general consensus - which might be why those with seven years or more on their timer had such a high vanishing rate.
Because if you fell out of alignment with the person on the other end of that timer, it would simply disappear.
Kuroo Tetsurō’s timer appeared on his left wrist when he was twelve years old. His new junior high school was too large and too loud and he was quiet enough that no one seemed to pay him any mind as he pushed through crowds of older students handing out fliers for clubs he had no interest in, their unfamiliar eyes passing over the too-small too-quiet dark haired child with the messy hair.
“Hey, kid.” A hand on his shoulder, and Tetsurō found himself staring up into kind brown eyes and a smiling face. The guy must have been nearing six feet tall, and Tetsurō almost staggered back, his own tiny frame dwarfed by the older boy. “You ever played volleyball before?”
He hadn’t, of course. He’d played football back in elementary school, and he was pretty fast on the track when he really tried, but Tetsurō was pretty small for his age and as thin as a rake. That alone ruled out most contact sports, and the thought of trying something like basketball or volleyball was almost laughable.
But, this third year - was he a third year? He was certainly tall enough - had spotted Tetsurō when none of the other sports clubs had spared the tiny twelve year old a second glance. He was trapped under that soft gaze, and before he truly realised what he was doing, Tetsurō was shaking his head and muttering a soft ‘no’ that earned him a blinding smile and set his heart thudding frantically inside his chest as he was steered gently over to a table and prompted to fill in a form.
“Just give it a try.” The third year murmured, as the girl manning the table offered an equally kind smile and pressed a pen into his small hand. “If you don’t like it, you don’t have to stick around.”
So he did. The same day, in fact, as Tetsurō found himself chattering away to the third year who had found him - Ryō - and the second year girl at the volleyball club table - Aki. A few others came by, either to sign up or to see how recruitment was going, but Tetsurō paid them little mind. He should, perhaps, have been spending his time with his own classmates, but he didn’t know any of them yet, and Ryō’s smile was infectious.
It was nice. Pleasant in a way that Tetsurō hadn’t really experienced outside of his friendship with Kenma. Ryō and Aki didn’t seem to mind that he was quiet, a bit too shy and lacking in some of the societal norms expected from a child of his age. It didn’t seem to matter for once, and before he knew it lunch time had arrived and Tetsurō was being steered towards one of the looming buildings as the club recruitment started to die down as people wandered off to find food.
The gymnasium, he realised belatedly, as he slipped his outside shoes off along with the others. Tetsurō didn’t have his own gym shoes with him, but after a moment Aki pressed a pair into his hands with a grin - and when, exactly, had she vanished? - and he quickly shoved his feet into the white shoes. They were a little too big, but not uncomfortable, and when he finished tying the laces he looked up to see Ryō beckoning him over to the side.
“Since you’ve never played before, let’s see how you do with a bit of help.” Ryō grinned down at him, pulling his long hair back into a ponytail. In the middle of what he realised was slowly turning into a volleyball court, some of the second years who had joined their little group a while back had started setting up the net, and Tetsurō stared wide-eyed as a yellow and blue ball was pressed into his too-small hands.
Ryō - the team captain, Tetsurō eventually found out - was endlessly patient with him. Other club members filtered in periodically, and after a while Aki - as the club manager - had to run back to the table. They needed to try and find a few more members before the day was done, yet still Ryō stuck by his side. After a while, more first years appeared, just as timid as Tetsurō had been and not all that much bigger. They practiced, they learned , and by the time they were done Tetsurō was grinning from ear to ear.
“Hey, Kuroo.” Satō, another first year, called out to him and Tetsurō whipped his head around to look, dark hair flopping into his eyes. “Catch!” He barely had time to put his hands up before the volleyball impacted with his palms and he grabbed at it, almost dropping the thing. “Nice!” Satō grinned at him and Tetsurō laughed at his ridiculousness.
Friends. He had friends!
Later, he would blame his distraction on the elated feeling in his chest, the way his head spun with happy emotions that he hadn’t really known he had longed for. Friends! He didn’t spot the flickering numbers immediately, not until he raised his arms with every intention of dropping the volleyball back in with the others as they cleared away their mess. They were stark against his skin, shimmering and gold as they counted down from a number too large for him to really comprehend.
The ball hit the parquet floor, bounced twice, then rolled towards the corner. Tetsurō stared.
His wrist. Numbers. Numbers! He had his numbers! How was he supposed to react to this? Tetsurō was certain he was meant to be happy, but all that lingered was an odd feeling of confusion as the gold digits counted down.
“Dude!” Satō was at his side, peering down at his wrist. The gym seemed to have gone very quiet for the moment, and it was with a growing sense of mortification that Tetsurō realised all eyes were on him. “Man, your number is way smaller than mine.” Satō pulled his sweatband off his wrist, revealing deep green numbers that were barely legible with how small they were.
“Yeah.” Tetsurō replied, too quiet, hands shaking as he tried to wrap his head around too much all at once.