Work Text:
Lady Kii
Famous are the waves
That break on Takashi beach
In noisy arrogance.
If I should go near that shore
I would only wet my sleeves.
…
The first time they meet is plain literature.
It’s evening, just a little after the sun has set, and a pattern of leaves lines the street in nostalgic fashion. “Sakanoshita”, the sign outside the store reads. The chimes hanging on the door jingle, signaling an entrance. Behind the counter, there’s man with a mane of bleached blond hair smoking a cigarette. He seems bored, with his feet propped up and a crumpled newspaper he’s half-reading. Something about him (perhaps it’s the piercings) screams former-delinquent. An intimidating presence, for sure, but Takeda knows not to judge a book by its cover.
“Excuse me.”
“Oh, sorry,” the blond man coughs, putting his paper down. He takes a few seconds to collect himself, stand, and say: “Welcome to Sakanoshita Store. How can I help you?”
Takeda smiles. “Hello, my name is Takeda Ittetsu. I’m a teacher over at Karasuno High School.”
The other man raises an eyebrow, clear confusion written on his face. He was expecting to be asked if they had, like, mirin or something. Not after-school detention. “Um. Okay? How can I help you?”
“I’m sure you know how schools assign members of faculty to advise various extracurricular activities,” Takeda continues. He stuffs his hands into his jacket’s pockets to hide their fidgeting. “Despite having no experience, I’ve been recently assigned to be the advisor of the Men’s Volleyball Club and–”
“Forget it.”
Takeda falters. “Please, just listen.”
The man holds up a hand. “Look, my gramps isn’t doing too well. No matter what he says, he’s in no condition to get back to coaching a team of rowdy youngsters. His heart isn’t what it used to be. He’s strong but it’s still tough for him.” The man sighs, shaking his head. “Anyway, I know that’s probably not the answer you were hoping for, but it is what it is. He can’t coach.”
“I’m sorry about your grandfather,” Takeda intones, apologetically. “That must be hard to deal with.” He takes a deep breath. “Though, actually… I was going to ask something else.”
“Oh.”
“I was wondering… An older co-faculty mentioned you were on the volleyball team when you were in high school…”
“And?”
“Would you be interested in coaching?” Takeda blurts out, quickly, before he can lose the nerve. He bows for good measure.
“Ha!” The man barks out, crossing his arms. He snubs out his cigarette. “You’re joking, right?”
“I’m serious.”
“No way, Sensei.”
Takeda’s eyebrows knit together. “The club’s full of good, hard working kids and…”
“Look,” The man says with a newfound glare. “If you’re not gonna buy something, you’re wasting your time.”
There are a lot of metaphors for obstinate forces. None of them cross Takeda’s mind. Instead, he walks out of the store, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. This is no time to be dejected, he thinks, making his way to his car. The moon looks down on him as he fumbles with his keys. He’s not going to be turned down that easily, no. He’s determined for sure. This was only the first time he’d drop by. Ukai. Keishin, he thinks, remembering the name his fellow teacher had given him. Takeda would see that man in the gymnasium again, if it’s the last thing he does. It might take him longer than he’d initially planned, but no matter. When a stream meets a boulder, a lesson is learned.
Fujiwara no Tadahira
If the maple leaves
On Ogura mountain
Could only have hearts,
They would longingly await
The emperor’s pilgrimage.
…
Takeda’s never been one to pass up a drinking session. He might not look the part, but he can hold his alcohol down like a whole heavyweight champion. Luckily, it’s Tokyo Training Camp tradition for coaches of the participating teams to have a beer or two at the end of the day. So, like they say: Do what the Romans do.
“Thank you again for inviting us here, Coach Nekomata.”
“Ah, that’s the fifteenth time you’ve said that,” Nekomata laughs, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I keep telling you, it’s my pleasure.”
Indeed, it seemed the other teams were getting a good kick out of Karasuno’s presence, even if it was because they always lost. There was something to look forward to daily, at least, with their fresh faces around. Still, the opportunities for teenage shenanigans were endless, Takeda keeps in mind. Their youthful energies can’t be matched, he thinks. It makes him order another drink.
As they sip their respective cold beverages in silence, Nekomata looks around. He seems to have forgotten something, Takeda notes.
“Ah, that’s right. Where’s Keishin?”
“Oh, he’s still helping out one of our students train. Kageyama, that is. He’s working on a new toss, from what I understand!” Takeda smiles. “Ukai-kun has been so helpful to the kids that you wouldn’t believe he refused to coach at first. I begged him for months and he wouldn’t budge. It’s like second nature to him now, though. To be strategic yet caring of the kids. I wouldn’t expect anything less from Coach Ukai’s grandson, of course. It’s so fitting, too, how responsible he is. I mean, imagine: Reviving his grandfather’s legacy with an underdog team to boot. What a weight on his shoulders! Still, I believe he can pull it off…”
As his voice trails off from the ramble, Takeda’s cellphone vibrates. He picks up his phone on the table and reads the message.
“Oh, a text from Ukai-kun!” Takeda’s face lights up and he takes another swig of beer. “He says he’ll be here shortly.”
Nekomata looks at him. Strangely, at first. Then, slowly, a cat-like smile began to spread throughout his face. It’s the same look he gets when he’s caught on with the developments of the kids. Takeda blinked.
“Sensei,” Nekomata said. “You’re fond of Keishin, aren’t you?”
It takes a second for Takeda to process what the coach had said. Fond? He flushes. Whether because of the drinks or the question, he doesn’t know. He can’t be drunk already, can he?
“O-of course. He’s… irreplaceable,” he stammers, then burps. “…To the team, I mean. Irreplaceable to the team.”
Nekomata laughs out loud, clinking their mugs. “Well. You’re not wrong.”
Just then, Ukai enters the room, wiping sweat off his forehead. He looks around and sees the table where Takeda and Nekomata are sitting. As he walked towards them he smiles and waves at the teacher.
Taira no Kanemori
Though I would hide it,
In my face it still appears–
My fond, secret love.
And now he questions me:
“Is something bothering you?”
…
“This was quite a year.”
They’re alone in the gym. Graduation had just ended, and the rest of the team had gone to send their seniors off. Without all the kids, the place is quiet. No over-eager Shouyo, no rolling thunder Nishinoya, no aggravated Daichi. No, it’s just the two of them: Coach and coach.
“You’re telling me,” Ukai laughs, shaking his head. “Thanks for opening up the gym, by the way. I knew I left my earrings somewhere.”
“It’s no problem.”
The two of them look at the empty court for a moment in a strange sort of silence. It’s an extra emotional day, it’s true, and bound to weigh them down. Sure, it’s an occasion to be celebrated– all the efforts that their students had given (Azumane, Koushi, Sawamura, and Kiyoko) amounting to this day, for one. Yet, every ending is bittersweet. Every ending amounts to one word: Gone.
That’s what Ukai thinks, at least. He sighs. He notes that Takeda’s hands are wedged deep in his jacket’s pockets.
“Hey,” Ukai starts. “What’s wrong?”
“Huh? Oh, nothing,” Takeda smiles a little too wide. His arms jump out and he makes a broad gesture. “I’m doing great. In fact, I’m more than fine. I’m over the moon.”
“You can’t fool me, Sensei.”
“Really, it’s nothing.”
“Come on, tell me. I won’t snitch.”
Takeda hangs his head, a wan smile on his face. It’s obvious that he doesn’t want to say it out loud. “Ah.. I just thought… it’s such a shame… if it were to all end here.”
He looks Ukai dead in the eye, in a way that he wasn’t able to do the first time around. This time he wasn’t asking; wasn’t going to go down on his knees and beg. If Ukai left, that was his choice. He had already extended his time coaching once before. Not only that, but he’s been a constant mentor to the kids outside of school, even if it wasn’t part of the job description. Takeda was persistent, but he knew his limits. It was too much to ask for him to stay.
Ukai swallows, hard. His heart softens in his chest.
“I’ll keep being coach,” he says. “On one condition.”
“Oh, what’s that?”
“Just as long as you’re here, too, Sensei.”
Ariwara no Yukihira
Though we are parted,
If on Mount Inaba's peak
I should hear the sound
Of the pine trees growing there,
I'll come back again to you.
…
The clock strikes six. Takeda paces around the faculty room. The other teachers have gone home but he’s decided to wait. For an hour or so, he keeps like that. Pacing and pacing. Then, the phone rings. He picks it up.
“Well, it’s done,” Ukai says, flatly. His voice is a little muffled. “We buried him.”
“I’m sorry,” Takeda says for what seems the millionth time. Of all times to run out of words, this was the worst.
“Ah, my father wanted me to thank you for organizing that memorial for gramps last week. It was great. Having the club speak was touching.”
“Of course, of course.”
There is silence on the other side of the receiver for an impenetrable amount of time. Takeda bites his lip.
“Sensei–“
“Ukai-kun–“
Ukai gives a shaky laugh. Hearing it breaks Takeda’s heart. “You go first.”
“Listen,” Takeda mumbles. He can’t possibly fathom the pain Ukai is feeling right now. He knows he and his grandfather had always been close, but they had been especially connected recently, for obvious reasons. It must hurt to even think about volleyball at such a time, Takeda thinks. It must be too much. “If you don’t want to come back, I understand.”
There’s an exhale from the other line.
“No, I–” Ukai mutters, struggling to speak. His voice wavers as he goes on. “I want to come back.”
“Don’t force yourself.”
“I’m not.”
It’s nothing but the truth. He doesn’t want to wallow in grief. It’s derailed his life enough already. To be honest, hearing Takeda’s voice is the most stable thing he has had to hold onto in a while. It’s as if he’s been pulled back down to earth. As tears begin streaming down his face, his breathing becomes uneven. He sobs as he clutches the phone. Takeda whispers: “It’ll be alright, Keishin. It’ll be alright.” Ukai wishes he could embrace him, be with him, in this moment.
Right here. Right now.
Fujiwara no Atsutada
I have met my love.
When I compare this present
With feelings of the past,
My passion is now as if
I have never loved before.
…
Moonlight seeps lazily through the blinds and curtains. It’s humid and unforgiving in Takeda’s room. An electric fan buzzes noisily at the corner, turning its head from side to side. While lying in bed, Takeda stares at the ceiling, vision slightly blurred without his glasses. He sees nothing but shadows above him, in his bed made– supposedly– for one.
“Ittetsu?” Ukai murmurs, sleepily. His arm is draped over Takeda’s waist, heavy but not uninviting. He buries his face into the crook of the other, smaller man’s neck. “Ittetsu. Babe. Go to sleep.”
“I can’t.”
“Mm. You can,” Ukai whispers into his skin. He presses a kiss unto Takeda’s jaw. “I’ll show you how.”
Takeda makes a breathy laugh. Their naked bodies hot against each other, squeezed into his bed: It’s like a scene from an adult novel. It can’t be real. As Ukai continues to kiss down his chest, he groans. “Keishin… I…”
“Sh. I know.”
Somehow, it has come to this. A love poem to end all love poems. The man in his arms, who he once begged to be here, now wrapped around his finger. Takeda doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It feels unreal. Or too real. He doesn’t know. As Ukai’s hand drifts to his thighs, Takeda turns his head so that they come face-to-face, foreheads touching, hair tangled together. Ukai strokes his cheek.
“I’ll never leave you.”
“I know.”