Chapter Text
— Monday —
“Kou-chan, could I please ask you to drop by the pool services before you come meet us and request two lounge chairs? Tetsu-chan hogged the last one available and Iwa-chan broke another,” Oikawa’s voice comes from the speaker of Bokuto’s phone from where he had thrown it onto the bed in favour of looking for his swim shorts.
“Pool services?” Bokuto replies from the other side of the room while he digs through his overstuffed duffle bag. “Sure! Where’s that?”
“Oh, it’s easy,” Oikawa assures him, before rattling off a series of directions, of which Bokuto can recall exactly two by the time he’s finished. “If you get lost just ask any of the staff, they’ll point you in the right direction!”
“Right, yeah. I’ll be over soon, then!”
“Very grateful for your sacrifice, Kou-chan!”
Sacrifice , Bokuto imagines, because it’s so hot outside it’s almost hard to breathe and because the only thing he’s been thinking about ever since he stepped off the train about an hour ago has been the sweet respite of submerging his entire body in a cold body of water.
The call drops and Bokuto whoops with joy as he finally sees the yellow of his swim shorts peek through from the bottom of his bag. He throws them on, slings a towel over his shoulder, then books it out of the house.
Once he’s outside, it doesn’t take him very long to realize he’d greatly underestimated the vastness of the resort they’re staying at. He’d come at Oikawa’s invitation, whose aunt’s house they’re all staying at, but volleyball practice had held him back in Tokyo until lunch time so he’d taken the four hour long train ride by himself, as Kuroo and Kenma had made the trip earlier that morning. They’d all come to pick him up at the station, but he’d been quick to usher them along to the pool while he went up to the apartment to drop off his luggage and change into his swimwear. That did mean, however, that now he must fend for himself in this jungle of tall palm trees, winding paths, and buildings that all look the same as the ones before.
There are signs pointing to several pools—Southern pool, Northeastern pool, Western pool, how many are there, really?—but none that direct him towards the actual pool services. He remembers Oikawa’s first direction and circles around to the back of their building, then takes a flight of stairs as he recalls there being stairs somewhere in the middle of his explanation. He follows along the path from there, surrounded by lush grass and other thriving greenery, taking a 50/50 chance whenever his route bifurcates, hoping the odds are on his side.
It’s by sheer luck that he finds his way into a water playground area for kids, which, according to Oikawa’s explanation, is apparently positioned just in front of the pool services. He walks the remaining distance, squealing kids and busy families stealing his attention for a moment, then huffs in relief as he spots a warehouse-looking unit with Pool Services written above the double doors.
There’s a man standing in front of it, jotting down something on a clipboard. Judging by the black polo with the embroidered resort logo and the matching shorts, Bokuto figures he must be part of the staff, so he walks up to him.
“Excuse me, are you a staff here? Pool services?” Bokuto asks.
The man does a double take at him, apparently so absorbed in his task he’d been caught off guard by being suddenly approached. But he’s not the only one taken by surprise here. Bokuto is entirely unprepared for the face that greets him when the man looks up. Deep green eyes, overgrown dark curls and sharp features, he blows right through Bokuto’s 1-10 scale. If he had to give this man a number, he’d be a solid 23. Maybe 25, if you count the unimpressed pout. Perhaps a 30, if you count the eyebrows too but—but there’s no time for such irrelevant deliberations because the man is talking to him and if Bokuto doesn’t listen he will most likely make a fool of himself.
“Yes, I am. How may I help you?” He replies, politely, clicking his pen and tucking it on the chest pocket of his polo.
In a fleeting struggle to hide the sudden chaos in his head from showing on his face, Bokuto’s nervous system briefly stops all brain to mouth communication, and what comes out of him is not what he wants to say at all, but is instead the last thing his eyes have settled on.
“Pen,” he blurts out.
“Pardon me?” The man tilts his head to the side.
And as his cognition returns to him as fast as it left, making him realize his blunder, Bokuto tries to play it off. “Uhm. A pen. I was wondering if you had one I could borrow?” Good enough, he thinks. All good. Crisis averted.
“Oh, certainly,” the man says, despite having looked surprised at the request for a second. He looks around him and pats the back pocket of his shorts, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he had just tucked a pen into his chest pocket. Bokuto is about to point that out to him when he speaks up again. “If you’ll give me a minute,” then he bows lightly and excuses himself to enter the warehouse behind him, in search of a pen Bokuto doesn’t need.
Bokuto takes the time to physically slap his own forehead as soon as he’s out of sight, focusing back on the reason why he came here in the first place. Lounge chairs. Two of them. Task focus.
The man returns just a few seconds later holding a sleek mechanical pencil, which he hands over to Bokuto. “I do apologize, but I’m afraid I do not have a pen on me at the moment. Will a pencil do instead?”
You have a pen right there , Bokuto thinks, stealing a glance at the offending object peeking from the top of the pocket. Maybe that’s the only pen he has and he needs it to keep doing his job. Maybe that’s his personal pen and he doesn’t want to hand it over. Maybe—maybe it doesn’t matter and he should stop his thoughts from derailing any further and give an answer instead.
“A mechanical pencil will do just fine, thank you!” Bokuto says, taking it.
The man bows lightly again. “Happy to be of service. Might there be anything else I can do for you?”
“Uh, yes, actually! Apparently we’re short on lounge chairs by the Eastern pool,” Bokuto says, gesturing in the general direction of where he thinks the Eastern pool might be. “I think we’re in need of two more?”
“I see. I shall request two chairs to be brought to you promptly, then. May I have the family name of the residence you’re staying at, please?”
“Oikawa?” Bokuto says, even though he’s not sure if the house is on Oikawa’s aunt’s last name. The man’s eyebrows lift in surprise at his reply but he’s quick to school his expression into polite neutrality once again. Bokuto doesn’t know what could’ve possibly caused such a reaction, but he does know he feels a bit weird asking for things to be brought to him like this. He wishes he could just carry the chairs himself instead.
“Noted. Would that be all?”
“Yes, thank you so much!” Bokuto says with his best smile to make up for the awkward interaction, ready to put it all behind him and finally march towards the pool to meet his friends—but maybe not all of it because that was a damn pretty face he’ll have a hard time forgetting.
The man excuses himself again and that’s Bokuto’s cue to leave as well. He makes his way around the resort a lot more easily this time since he can just follow the signs to his destination. He soon spots Oikawa and Iwaizumi sitting on the same lounge chair by the pool, Kenma hiding from the scorching afternoon sun under a parasol and Kuroo sitting in the sun next to him. They’re all talking animatedly when he walks up to them.
“Oh Kou-chan, you’re here,” Oikawa greets him. “Did you manage to find the pool services?”
“Yeah, ‘twas a piece of cake! He said they should be bringing the chairs here soon,” Bokuto says, looking around to check for any signs of incoming chairs and pretty boys, but there are none to be seen at the moment. But talking about it does remind him of something. “Oh, and I think I need to go return this, eventually,” he says, contemplating the mechanical pencil in his hand he’d entirely forgotten about.
“Where’d you get that from?” Iwaizumi asks.
“Err, the pool services?”
“What’d you even need it for? Impromptu autograph signing?” Kuroo teases.
Bokuto hums, feeling heat rising to his cheeks. “No—nothing really? I just panicked.” He realizes belatedly that he should’ve have left that last part out as he’s met with four pairs of confused stares. He sighs, resigned to whatever consequences his next words might bring him. “The dude from the pool services was cute, that’s all.”
That earns him two combined cackles from Iwaizumi and Kuroo, a snort from Kenma and a surprised grin from Oikawa.
“Did you perhaps meet Sugawara? Or was it Akaashi?” At Bokuto’s blank stare, Oikawa elaborates, “Bright silver hair with a cute birthmark by his eye and a blinding smile? Or awfully polite with dark, messy hair?”
Bokuto’s hand comes up to scratch the back of his head. “Yeah, that’s him—dark hair and so polite it made me feel inadequate.”
Oikawa coos, “That’s adorable, Kou-chan! Akaashi is cool. Pretty, too.”
Bokuto neither confirms nor denies Akaashi’s prettiness, just keeps staring at the pencil, although he’s sweating a lot more profusely than he was just a few minutes ago. The fact that there’s a pool behind him and he still isn’t in it is a crime.
“I’m sure he’ll show up around here eventually, so you can return the pencil then. Don’t worry too much about it for now,” Iwaizumi assures him.
Bokuto nods, eager to put this conversation to an end because his body temperature will just keep rising if he doesn’t put a stop to it soon. He drops the pencil on top of his towel, on a small table next to where Kenma’s sitting. “Whatever! I’m going for a swim!” He announces.
It doesn’t take long for the rest of them to follow him into the pool, all five of them resisting the urge to jump in because it’s not allowed, choosing to enter through the stairs instead, like the group of civil adults they are not.
A pair of older staff members come around a while later to drop off the requested lounge chairs and replace the broken one after Iwaizumi explains the chair had already been broken when he’d gotten to it. It’s only when the sun is lazily setting behind the resort houses and they’ve all gotten out of the pool to dry off that Bokuto sees Akaashi walking by.
It’d be awkward to call him over by his name all of a sudden, but he’s not about to address him as pool services guy either, so he elbows Iwaizumi next to him instead, since he’d gotten the impression both Oikawa and Iwaizumi knew him.
“Hey, I think Akaashi’s over there…”
Said man is a handful of meters away from them, busy organizing chairs and closing unused parasols now that most of the crowd has cleared and the chaos has died down.
“Huh?” Iwaizumi turns, looking in the direction Bokuto nods towards. “Oh, right, that’s him. Oi, Akaashi!” Iwaizumi beckons him over without a moment’s hesitation. Bokuto flinches and takes a half step back, behind Iwaizumi.
The man turns around upon hearing his name, and his expression softens almost imperceptibly when he spots Iwaizumi. Then he begins walking over and Bokuto immediately turns on his heel, half because he needs to go fetch the mechanical pencil, half because Akaashi hasn’t gotten any less attractive since the last time he saw him less than an hour ago.
“Iwaizumi-san, Oikawa-san,” he greets when he’s standing in front of them. “Long time no see.”
“Has it really been a year since the last time we met here? Time sure flies past, Akaashi,” Oikawa says, leaning on Iwaizumi’s shoulder.
Akaashi replies with a nod, “So it seems.”
“Have you been well? How’s your grandmother?” Iwaizumi asks.
Bokuto wonders if they’ve known each other for long, as they seem to be well acquainted.
“I’m doing okay. My grandmother had a small health setback earlier this year, but now she’s doing almost better than she was before.”
There’s a smile in Iwaizumi’s voice when he speaks, “I’m glad to hear that.”
They exchange a few more words, briefly catching up on a year’s worth of life. Bokuto lingers awkwardly behind Iwaizumi and Oikawa, peeking around their shoulders, wondering if he should speak up or just wait to be introduced. But Akaashi soon settles that indecision when his eyes fall on Bokuto, a spark of recognition crossing over his face, which in turn compels Bokuto to walk a little closer and speak up at last.
“Uh, hi!” He says.
“Hello,” Akaashi says simply, but it’s not like Bokuto had given him a lot to work with in the first place.
“Oh, how rude of us!” Oikawa pipes up, yanking Bokuto closer to them by the arm. “We’re staying with some friends this week! That’s Kuroo Tetsurou and Kozume Kenma,” he introduces the pair, gesturing at them.
Kenma nods in acknowledgement and Kuroo throws a hey~ from where he’s reclining on the lounge chair, then shoots Bokuto an eyebrow wiggle. Bokuto makes the wise decision to ignore him.
Oikawa continues with a squeeze to Bokuto’s bicep, “And this friendly owl here is Bokuto Koutarou, but I believe you’ve met each other already.”
“I do believe so too,” Akaashi comments, looking Bokuto up and down. “Nice to meet you all.”
“Come meet us at the beach one of these days, Akaashi. We’ll be around until the end of the week,” Iwaizumi offers.
“I’d like that. Let’s keep in touch? I must return to work now.”
“Certainly, we’ll see you around!” Oikawa says as Akaashi makes to leave.
“Oh, wait!” Bokuto lurches forward, having almost forgotten about the damned pencil again. “You can have your pencil back. Thank you!”
Akaashi halts his movements and takes the mechanical pencil, apparently having forgotten all about it as well.
“Thank you, Bokuto-san. I hope it was useful.”
“Very!” Bokuto assures him with ill-placed confidence. Akaashi excuses himself after that and then he’s gone.
“ Very! ” Bokuto hears Kuroo repeating his words from behind him, mocking his confident tone and mimicking his power stance, hands on his hips with his chest puffed out. Iwaizumi and Oikawa are chuckling in the background. “You’re fucking hopeless, Bo.”
“Shut the fuck up,” Bokuto responds, and shoves his damp towel against Kuroo’s face.
— Tuesday —
The next day finds Bokuto swimming laps around the pool well before nine in the morning, both because his internal clock can be his worst enemy sometimes, and because his room had felt too hot even after he’d turned on the air-conditioning, the sun beating down relentlessly against his window. So instead of idling around the house waiting for everyone else to wake up, he’d decided to put on his swim shorts and head to the pool before it got too crowded.
It had been empty when he got there, and he happily swam away any remnants of sleep and lethargy still weighing him down. Now, having lost count of how many laps he’d swam back and forth, he stops at the edge to catch his breath, shaking his hair free of excess water, then looking around to check if he’s still as alone as he was at first.
There are still no signs of any families and their numerous children, but Bokuto does see two members of the staff moving with purpose around the pool, surveying the area and fixing a few chairs, most likely making sure everything is perfect before the morning crowd arrives.
Then Bokuto recognizes one of them, and his eyes light up.
“Hey, Akaashi!” He calls out. The man in question turns around, his expression focused much like it had been yesterday, until he sees Bokuto in the pool.
“Bokuto-san,” he says as a way of greeting, walking closer to where Bokuto is hanging from the pool’s edge. “Good morning.”
“Hard at work first thing in the morning, I see?”
“So it is. And you’re up awfully early for someone who’s on vacation.”
Bokuto droops a little at that. “I forgot to close the blinds last night and my room was super hot when I woke up. Plus, I’m used to having practice quite early, so sometimes I can’t help but wake up before everyone else.”
“Practice?” Akaashi asks, looking intrigued.
“Yes! I play volleyball! Professionally!”
“Oh!” The exclamation falls out of Akaashi’s mouth, almost like it wasn’t meant to. “Are you perhaps Oikawa’s teammate, then?”
“Nope! We’re on rival teams. But we’ve been good pals since senior high! Why, Akaashi, do you keep up with volleyball at all?”
Akaashi looks off to the side, his face framed by the gentle, early morning sunlight, and Bokuto thinks he still looks unfairly good even when he’s staring up at Akaashi from what is basically ground level.
“I haven’t kept up with it in years, at least since I stopped playing regularly after graduating from senior high,” Akaashi says.
Now that is something Bokuto hadn’t seen coming and he feels like a rug has just been pulled from underneath him. He rises up on his arms, lifting his torso out of the water, incapable of controlling his surprise.
“What!” He blurts out. “You played volleyball?! Why’d you stop?”
“I still play it occasionally with friends, I just didn’t pursue it professionally.”
An imperative question, “What position did you play back then?”
A crucial reply, “I was a setter.”
Setter.
Setter.
There’s liquid fire running in Bokuto’s veins.
He jumps out of the water altogether with an elated hoot, walking closer to Akaashi, who takes a small step back and holds up two hands defensively as if to placate the very wet, very excited, very 1.90-meters-tall man currently closing in on him.
“You gotta play with us! Toss to me! I’m an outside hitter!”
“Bokuto-san, please. What could a professional volleyball player ever hope to gain by playing with me?” Akaashi furrows his eyebrows, looking genuinely lost as to why Bokuto would ever want to play with him.
“Gain? It’s just fun, Akaashi, that’s all.” Bokuto says with a tilt of his head. “Please play with me!”
“I—I don’t know. I haven’t played in a few months—”
Bokuto slaps a hand over his heart, smile wide, “That’s okay! Good or bad, I’ll hit any and all tosses you throw in my direction, promise!”
Akaashi considers him for a second. Bokuto doesn’t know what wins him over in the end, but he knows he has won even before Akaashi opens his mouth.
“Okay, Bokuto-san. I can play with you.”
Bokuto throws his hands in the hair in celebration, “Awesome! I gotta ask the guys when they’d want to play but I’ll let you know for sure!”
“Okay, I’ll be waiting,” Akaashi says, just before the other staff member that is still loitering around the area calls him over. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go now. See you around, Bokuto-san.”
“See ya, Akaashi!”
Watching him leave, Bokuto is beyond thrilled that Akaashi had not only agreed to play volleyball with him, but had also seemed so willing to engage in conversation with Bokuto. He picks up his towel and dries off, then marches his way back to the apartment to share the incredibly good news.
“Hey hey hey!” He shouts, blasting the front door open. He’d gotten a text from Kuroo before he left the pool, asking him where he was, so he knows at least one person is awake, though he soon hears Oikawa groaning from the kitchen.
“Kou-chan, it’s not even 10 in the morning, would you please tone it down?” He says.
Kuroo peeks his head around the corner, “Kenma is still asleep, dumbass.”
“Oh shit, sorry,” Bokuto says, his voice decreasing to an acceptable volume. He throws his towel on the sofa and follows Kuroo to the kitchen where Iwaizumi is brewing coffee and Oikawa is leaning against the counter next to him.
“Where the hell were you? And what got you so excited at the very early hour of 9:37 in the morning?” Kuroo asks, looking up at the clock above the oven.
“I was with Akaashi!” At the three pairs of raised eyebrows being thrown in his direction, he explains, “Well, actually I was at the pool, and he just happened to be there. Didja know he used to play volleyball?”
“Oh?” Kuroo crosses his arms and leans against the door frame, a tell-tale sign that his interest has been piqued.
“I told you he’d lose his mind,” Iwaizumi says to Oikawa with an amused shake of his head.
Bokuto points accusingly at both of them. “You two knew! And you didn’t tell me! Betrayal!”
“We figured you’d probably blow a fuse if you knew. We weren’t entirely wrong, apparently,” Oikawa says.
“I am perfectly calm right now, I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He’s met with three different snorts at that. “Whatever, okay! Anyway! He said he’d play with us! Do you wanna book the court for later today? Maybe he’ll be able to join us after his shift ends.”
“Of course you would talk him into playing volleyball with us. Always so eager,” Oikawa mutters, burying his face in Iwaizumi’s shoulder.
“I like that idea, fine by me!” Iwaizumi says, and despite his grumbling, Oikawa expresses his agreement in the form of a thumbs up.
“Sounds good to me too,” Kuroo agrees.
Bokuto lets out a hoot of joy at the same time Kenma walks into the kitchen, looking like he’s just rolled out of bed.
“Kenma!” Bokuto greets. “We’re playing volleyball today, do you—”
He’s interrupted by Kenma’s deadpan, “Koutarou, your voice is a solid top five in the things I do not want to hear first thing in the morning.” Bokuto had most likely woken him up.
“Hah, if it was mine, however,” Kuroo starts, but Kenma isn’t having it either.
“No, yours would be in the top three, for sure.”
That gets the rest of them laughing, Kuroo included.
Bokuto leaves them to their morning routines and walks to the living room, where he sees his damp towel still on the sofa. He picks it up and takes it out to dry in the veranda, on the back of a chair, stealing a glance at the view of the pool that has now started to fill up with people.
It also seems like fate is smiling down on him today as he sees Akaashi crossing the lawn with a bunch of pool gear in his arms.
“Hey, Akaashi!” He calls out, leaning over the railing. Their apartment is on the second floor and Akaashi is relatively close by, so Bokuto doesn’t have to yell too loud, but Akaashi’s shoulders still fly up to his ears all the same and a few passersby look up at him as well. Being quiet has never been Bokuto’s forte. He waves his arms to make it easier for Akaashi to spot him, and when he does, he hurries closer to the veranda.
“Bokuto-san, as a member of the resort staff, I must ask you to not cause such a ruckus,” he says, just loud enough for Bokuto to hear him from above.
“Oh, sorry, sorry! I just saw you walking by and wanted to tell you we’re thinking of booking the volleyball court this afternoon, at around five. Can you make it?”
Akaashi purses his lips in thought. Then, “I believe so, yes.”
Bokuto hoots happily. “Awesome, Akaashi! We’re gonna have so much fun!”
Akaashi tilts his head to the side, like he’s still not sure about the whole thing. “If you say so. I’ll see you later then, Bokuto-san.”
“Later, Akaashi!” Bokuto waves him goodbye as he hurries back to whatever task Bokuto had pulled him away from. It’s clear in the way he speaks and in the fact that Bokuto can’t lie to save his life, but he really is pretty excited to play with someone entirely new.
“Aw, wouldn’t you make for a cute little Juliet,” Kuroo speaks up from behind him with a cheshire cat grin, leaning against the window frame, startling Bokuto out of his thoughts. “A sweet Rapunzel, if you’d prefer.”
Bokuto shoves him lightly as he walks past him on his way inside. “Seriously, don’t you have better things to do than following me around all day making mildly disconcerting comments?”
“I do, but Kenma is showering right now.”
“Tetsu-chan!” Oikawa yells from the kitchen, accompanied by a cackle from Iwaizumi. “Don’t be nasty!”
—
They go for a hike along the coast that day, the trails pleasantly devoid of people but the humid heat making their clothes stick to their bodies not quite so. By the time they make it back, mid-afternoon, they’re dying for a dip in the ocean and that’s where they stay almost until the clock strikes five. By the time they leave the beach and start the ten minute walk back to the resort, Bokuto is visibly buzzing with enthusiasm.
Akaashi is already waiting for them at the main gates, out of his staff uniform, wearing what looks like swim shorts and a faded black band shirt. He explains he needs to enter as their guest because he’s not allowed to abuse his staff privileges to enter the resort outside of his shift hours, and so they enter all together and head to the outdoor volleyball court, thankfully hidden in the shade of the nearest building at that time of the day.
They warm up and split into two teams of three: Bokuto, Akaashi and Kuroo versus Oikawa, Iwaizumi and Kenma. Oikawa lets Kenma take the role of setter for their team, claiming to be looking forward to hitting better spikes than Iwaizumi, which earns him a kick in the rear from said man.
“I’m serious when I say I’m shamefully out of practice,” Akaashi says distractedly, spinning the volleyball on his hands.
“That’s okay, Akaashi! I intend to make good on my promise from earlier this morning! We got this,” Bokuto reassures him with a smile.
Akaashi nods, “I’ll do my best.”
“D’ya wanna try before we start?”
“That might be good, yes.”
“Oi, Kuroo, make yourself useful.” Bokuto beckons him over from where he’s doing a short warm-up routine and Akaashi hands him the ball. “Throw the ball for Akaashi, will ya?”
“Aye,” Kuroo agrees.
He throws the ball in the air and Akaashi positions himself to receive it, then tosses it to where Bokuto will spike. Bokuto jumps and his hand easily hits the ball with a satisfying smack, slamming it onto the floor on the other side of the court.
“Akaashi! This your out of practice ? That was insanely good!” Bokuto turns to Akaashi as soon as he lands, incredulous.
“I really don’t—” Akaashi starts, but as soon as he opens his mouth, Bokuto senses he’s about to downgrade his skills. He’s not having it.
“Hah!” He cries out, shoving his pointer finger in Akaashi’s face. “None of that! If a national-level player tells you your tosses are great, you have no choice but to believe it!” Then he shoves his thumb against his chest, pointing to himself, “And I’m telling you right now, Akaashi, your toss was great! Do it again!”
Akaashi looks a little taken aback by the sudden outburst, remaining speechless for a few seconds, but it seems to be enough to get him to switch gears. “Thank you, Bokuto-san. One more time, please.”
Bokuto beams, satisfied, and hits the next toss into a particularly sharp line shot, even harder than before. It’s Akaashi who reacts first this time around.
“Your form is unbelievable. Such incredible power,” Akaashi murmurs, staring at the place where the ball had loudly hit the floor. Despite his aloof expression, there’s a light tint of pink on his cheeks and a eerie glint in his eyes. Bokuto can only hope to be the cause of it. “I’ve never had anyone hit my tosses like that,” he comments to no one in particular but Bokuto hears him loud and clear. The words are enough to send his adrenaline levels through the roof.
“Now you’re just showing off,” Kuroo throws at him, then turns to Akaashi. “Akaashi, if you keep openly praising him like that he might just go and win the next Olympics. Tread carefully.”
Bokuto is about to tell Kuroo to shut up when Akaashi turns to him instead. “I really do think my tosses could improve, though. I’ll do better next time, Bokuto-san.”
“So diligent, Akaashi!” Bokuto claps once, eager to get started, “Alright, let’s do this!”
The game starts and Akaashi stays true to his word, his tosses improving with each point they score, tweaking them slightly each time to better match up with Bokuto’s movements and timing, even going as far as experimenting with different tempos. Bokuto is ecstatic with Akaashi’s dutiful commitment to his tosses that makes them work quite harmoniously for two people who had never played together before. That alone speaks volumes of Akaashi’s potential as a setter.
They end it at four sets, only because it’s still too damn hot outside at such a late hour, even in the shade. Akaashi collapses on the floor, breathing heavily, hair and clothes clinging to his lithe frame, drenched in sweat. The light pink he’d had on his cheeks has now spread to his ears and down his neck. Kenma is in much the same state as him, collapsed on the floor. He doesn’t play much volleyball these days either. Iwaizumi’s shirt had vanished two sets ago and Kuroo has walked off the court to dump a whole bottle of water over himself. Only Bokuto and Oikawa look somewhat put together, which is to be expected of two pro volleyball players.
Bokuto comes to crouch next to Akaashi. “Hey hey, that was so much fun! You had fun, right right?” He asks, still buzzing with excitement from the game.
Akaashi looks up at him, blinking lazily, “Yes, Bokuto-san. That was a lot of fun.”
Bokuto shoots him a blinding grin. “Your tosses really are incredible, Akaashi! I’m sure you would’ve given Oikawa a run for his money back in senior high.”
“Kou-chan! Leave my name out of it,” Oikawa yaps from the other side of the court, throwing an empty water bottle in his direction but missing entirely.
Bokuto continues, unbothered, “Speaking of senior high, if you’re from Tokyo then we must have played volleyball at around the same time—you’re not much younger than me, right? What team did you play for? We might have been in the same tournaments, too! Maybe even played against each other?!” He rattles off the questions in a crescendo, finishing the last one off with a gasp, incredulous at the possibility that their paths might have crossed before—even more so at the thought that he could’ve played against someone like Akaashi and not noticed.
Akaashi takes a deep breath before rising to his feet. “Ah, I didn’t attend high school in Japan at all,” Akaashi clarifies. He goes to fetch a towel to dry himself off and Bokuto follows. That answer does certainly come as a surprise.
“How come?”
“My father is a diplomat. He lived in South Korea for a handful of years when I was younger, and I decided to move in with him and do high school there. So that’s where I played volleyball.”
“Woah, three years in Korea at such a young age! That’s so cool, Akaashi!”
Akaashi huffs a laugh, unsure of what to say to that. “I guess. What high school did you attend?”
“Fukurodani Academy!”
“Oh?” Akaashi looks up at that, surprised. “I got a scholarship for that school right after I decided to move abroad,” he comments, and Bokuto screeches.
“What!! You’re telling me we could’ve played in the same team!” He falls to his knees and then lets himself collapse to the floor entirely with total abandonment, looking up at Akaashi. “You could’ve been my setter? You can’t be serious.”
“I’m afraid I’m totally serious,” Akaashi says, confused—and mildly amused—at Bokuto’s sudden dramatics. Bokuto looks up to the sky, contemplating what his time in Fukurodani might’ve been like with Akaashi as his teammate. Akaashi doesn’t let him dwell on it for long, though, lightly kicking his foot to bring him out of his sullen reverie and peeking his head into Bokuto’s field of vision, “Hey, I’m here now, am I not?”
Bokuto processes the information. He does has a point. He springs to his feet again, all thoughts of could have beens gone as soon as they came. “That’s right! And you were great, thanks for playing with us! Let’s do it again!”
“Thank you for having me,” Akaashi replies.
Bokuto feels the burn of at least two pairs of eyes watching their exchange from afar, but he’ll deal with that later. Their attention soon shifts to Iwaizumi anyway, who suggests they all go for a swim in the pool.
Kenma lifts his head in interest. “I’ll go with you, Hajime,” he says, raising an arm so Iwaizumi can pull him to his feet.
“Yo, whoever does the coolest jump from the highest diving platform over there gets to shower first when we get home and gets first choice on the grilled meat we’re having for dinner,” Kuroo pipes up, pointing in the direction of the three diving platforms stationed at a sectioned-off corner of the pool.
“Hah, challenge accepted!” Oikawa and Iwaizumi say in scary unison, and that’s enough to have all of them rushing to the pool, swimming towards the platforms.
Once they get closer, however, Bokuto hesitates for a moment when he realizes just how tall they really are. “Uhm, I’ve never jumped from one of these before,” he comments under his breath, but Akaashi, who is just behind him, hears him.
“I’ve never jumped from this one either. Should we give it a try anyway?”
Bokuto agrees, not even entertaining the thought of sitting it out, and they both climb out of the pool, watching from below as Kuroo runs up on the platform and does a cannonball, the crash echoing around the area and the water splashing—admittedly—quite high.
“That’s what you call a cool jump? That’s risible. Watch and learn, Tetsu-chan!” Oikawa calls from the top of the platform where Iwaizumi stands next to him.
They back away from the edge and run up into a combined jump, each of them jumping to opposite sides of the platform with their arms spread out like two fallen angels. It looks like they’re going to belly flop until the very last second, when they tuck and land safely in a curled up position.
“Woah, that was so cool!” Bokuto whoops, making his way to the stairs. Akaashi follows him while Kenma chooses to stay seated at the edge of the pool instead. “Is there a time when you’re never not in synch?”
“Not really, no,” Oikawa states happily, swimming away towards the edge of the pool. Iwaizumi looks quite pleased with himself too.
Bokuto makes it to the top of the tallest platform and goes to look over the edge, only to unconsciously hold on to the railing with a surprised squawk. “Woo, this is even higher than it looks from below!”
Kuroo guffaws.
“This fool can reach over three meters in the air and now he’s scared of a five meter jump.” Iwaizumi laughs. “Oi, Bokuto, did you suddenly remember you’re scared of heights?”
“Shut up! It just looks lower from afar, that’s all.”
But what if I bellyflop? , he thinks as he says that, and startles when Akaashi speaks up next to him, having almost forgotten he was up there with him too.
“Bokuto-san, if you’ve never jumped from this high before then I’d say to just do a straight jump. It can be dangerous if you land wrong from this height.”
“But what if I, like, accidentally bend over and land face first!”
Akaashi walks over to the edge of the platform and looks down, analyzing the height of the drop. Then he shamelessly looks Bokuto up and down, like he’s analyzing him instead. Bokuto feels blood rush to his ears.
“I’m sure your core strength will keep you in check. Just keep yourself as straight as possible and bring your arms close to your body before you land,” he says, positioning himself for his own jump. “Other than that, just let go. You’ll be okay.”
Then, without another word, Akaashi swiftly turns his back to the pool, bends his knees and launches himself into an unfairly graceful backflip, landing perfectly, feet-first. Bokuto’s heart lurches up into his throat upon seeing him jumping so suddenly, a mix of wonder and absolute terror written on his face.
“Akaashi!” He yells, still clinging to the platform railing, when Akaashi resurfaces to the others’ cheers from the sidelines. “You lied to me! You told me you’d never done this before!”
“I said I had never jumped from this platform in particular before,” Akaashi explains, and upon recalling Akaashi’s exact words, Bokuto can’t argue against that. However, he thinks the wording might’ve been intentionally misleading, as Akaashi submerges half of his face in the water and looks up at him with mischief in his eyes. Bokuto can’t tell for sure, but he might be grinning.
He huffs in frustration at having been so mercilessly played by Akaashi and walks closer to the edge again, feeling pathetic up there, all alone. He steels himself for a few seconds, pointedly ignoring Kuroo who’s yelling at him to do a flip.
“Bokuto-san, I’ll toss to you however much you’d like tomorrow,” Akaashi offers, and that certainly grabs Bokuto’s attention.
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” Kenma warns Akaashi.
“Hah, now you’ve done it, Akaashi. He’s gonna jump and you’re gonna be stuck in eternal spiking practice hell,” Kuroo laughs.
Bokuto closes his eyes for a second and when he opens them again, he jumps.
It really isn’t that hard. There’s an uncomfortable feeling in his stomach but it’s gone as soon as he lands in the water. He resurfaces with a victorious hoot.
“Congratulations Bo, you’ve just earned yourself the award for lamest jump,” Kuroo taunts him.
Bokuto swims up to the edge of the pool and hauls himself up .“Shut the hell up. It’s not like a cannonball is the coolest thing in the universe either!”
“Certainly cooler than whatever that was. Now, I’d say Akaashi’s delivery was pretty on point but he’s out of the run because he’s not part of the household, so I will kindly relinquish victory to you two synchronized fuckers,” Kuroo says, turning to Iwaizumi and Oikawa.
Oikawa snickers and throws a peace sign, which Iwaizumi promptly slaps away.
Winners and losers decided, they walk back to their things and dry off, lost in casual conversation. The sun has set but the night is still warm and the pool lights cast everything around them in a pretty, shimmering blue light. And as the conversation veers into Tokyo-related affairs, curiosity suddenly strikes Bokuto.
“Say, Akaashi, do you work here all summer? All year? Is this what you do?”
“No, this isn’t my actual job. I’m finishing up university back in Tokyo and only work here for about a handful of weeks during the summer. I’ve been doing it for a few years now.”
“Oh, I see! Doesn’t it get boring spending your summers here, though?” Bokuto asks, tilting his head. “Do they let you use the pool at least?”
Akaashi’s lips curve into a barely-there smile. “I’m afraid I’m not allowed to use the pool during my shifts, Bokuto-san.”
“What?! That seriously hurts my soul, Akaashi! So you just sit around in this heat the whole day, watching your youth passing you by?”
“I only work part-time so I still have most of the day to myself. I spend my summers here so I can look after my grandmother and keep her company. There’s plenty of things to do too—I go freediving, hiking, I read a lot, catch up on some university work and see old friends,” he says, nodding towards Iwaizumi and Oikawa as if to illustrate. “Overall, I tend to keep busy. I’m never bored around here.”
Bokuto hums, considering all his summers spent in the city up until now under a slightly different light. “Hey, that’s cool! When you put it like that, summers in Tokyo do sound almost boring in comparison.”
“City boy discovers the wonders of the countryside,” Oikawa laughs.
“Oh! But wait!” Bokuto perks up. “You said you freedive? As in, diving without any gear?”
“That is correct, Bokuto-san.”
“Doesn’t that take a lot of control over your mind and body and like, some crazy lung capacity?”
“A little, yes. I’m not the best freediver by any means but it’s something I enjoy doing.”
“That’s even cooler! Teach me, Akaashi!”
“W—what?” Akaashi stammers, taken aback by the sudden request.
Kenma rolls his eyes before he intervenes. “Koutarou, I don’t think you realize how overwhelming you can be at times. Keiji-kun, don’t feel pressured to do everything he asks of you.”
“That’s right! You don’t gotta do anything you don’t wanna do!” Bokuto reiterates, like it’s obvious.
“I see. I’ll think about it, then,” Akaashi considers, and that’s good enough for Bokuto.
Then Oikawa pipes up, “Say, Akaashi, do you want to come over for dinner? Iwa-chan bought way too much meat this morning.”
“There’s no such thing as too much meat,” Iwaizumi mutters as he pulls his shirt on.
“Oh, I wouldn’t want to intrude too much—” Akaashi starts.
“Nonsense,” Oikawa brushes him off. “Just because we’re staying with friends, it doesn’t mean you’re not welcome. Seriously, you should come over.”
Akaashi considers the offer for a while but ends up accepting. Bokuto lights up at the thought of having Akaashi around for a bit longer, thinking he fits right in the middle of their little group.
—
Dinner passes in a flash of animated laughter, lively conversation and delicious food.
Showers taken, bellies full and just the right amount of alcohol in their system, they now chill outside on the veranda. Kenma and Akaashi linger by the dinner table that has also been set outside, nursing their beers, engaged in a very intense conversation, topic unknown to Bokuto. The rest of them have transitioned over to the cushioned armchairs at the opposite side of the long balcony.
At some point, Kenma and Akaashi’s conversation must switch to a different topic, because Bokuto hears his and Oikawa’s names being mentioned. He blocks out Iwaizumi, Oikawa and Kuroo’s chatter in favour of listening in on whatever the other two are talking about, and it doesn’t take him long to realize Kenma is talking about their volleyball teams and respective achievements. Whether that was a result of Akaashi asking or Kenma being in the mood to share, Bokuto doesn’t know, but he’s secretly happy that Akaashi is getting an impromptu crash course of his achievements.
“Kenma is a better friend than all of you combined,” Bokuto shoots at the other three, who halt their conversation and look at him like they have no idea what he’s talking about. To his chagrin, though, Kenma must overhear his words, as the next time he speaks, he does it substantially louder to make sure Bokuto hears him loud and clear.
“Koutarou is very cool on the court. However, I think that’s about the extent of it,” he says.
It’s an aimed knife at Bokuto’s heart. Iwaizumi, Oikawa and Kuroo explode with laughter.
“O-oi, Kenma! I can hear you!” Bokuto complains, loudly. Then he whines, “Why is everyone so set on making me look uncool!”
“You do that to yourself,” Kenma states simply.
Kuroo wipes an imaginary tear out of his eye. “I’ve taught him well,” he says.
Bokuto crosses his arms, puffs out his chest and looks off to the side, “Nonsense, I’m the coolest person in this room.”
“You have some nerve saying that while sitting next to Hajime,” Kenma counters, again. Bokuto had walked right into that one.
Both Oikawa and Kuroo are lost in giggles, and Iwaizumi slings an arm around Bokuto’s shoulders with a smile, jostling Bokuto like he’s telling him to pay them no mind. Bokuto wants to open his mouth to retort, but he knows Kenma is right. It is known that Iwaizumi has always been the coolest.
“You’re cooler than all of us combined on a volleyball court, Bokuto. Don’t worry,” Iwaizumi tells him. That does lift Bokuto’s spirits.
When Bokuto chances a look at Akaashi, he finds him already looking back at him from where he’s quietly watching them bicker back and forth, leaning with his cheek against his hand. His amused smile reaches his sleepy eyes and Bokuto figures that maybe no harm was done.
—