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Love comes easy to someone like Sakusa Kiyoomi.
Surprising, of course, when everyone expects him to be nothing more than a robot. While Sakusa is many things (unreadable, complicated, double jointed, Japan's top ace, fond of napkins with little flower patterns more than others) he is definitely not a robot. Like a temperamental tree he sinks his roots deep only into those who interest him. Love at the first sight of a mutual understanding, fast and hurried and destined to wilt and rot into the forest’s soil. Yet still he climbs back up and does it again every time, foolish bravery paving the way for a boy who finishes everything he starts, love being the game he aims to execute to completion.
Love however, does not come easy to Ushijima Wakatoshi.
Ushijima is a rock, a mountain made of granite, steel, bone, and muscle. He was never the kind of person to understand most emotional concepts, though he tries to learn the patterns well enough. Still it feels difficult, trying to connect with a collection of people who expect things from him that he is unsure even exist in the cold recesses of his chest cavity.
It comes as a surprise to no one that when he first received Sakusa’s emotions he misconstrued them near instantly. The flowery imagery of Sakusa’s confession of a speech flew right above his head, roots failing to find purchase in soil not made for human contact. Still Sakusa did it again, and again, and again. Creating small fractures which turned to cracks which formed openings in the walls of Ushijima’s understanding.
Until finally, he did get through.
“I do not know if I can return your feelings,” Ushijima had responded with, “romance… is not a concept I am well acquainted with. However I am willing to try, if that is what you wish-”
”Wakatoshi-kun,” Sakusa had said, voice serious and laced with things Ushijima could never begin to dream of understanding, “if you’re saying you want to date me out of pity or obligation then know that nothing would make me hate you more.”
“I never said that.”
“What’re you saying then?”
“I am saying that I cannot be sure that I will feel the same way you do about me. However… I would like to try. If you would let me.”
It was an honest statement, with nothing but hope and curiosity behind it. Ushijima wanted someone to let him dig deep in his heart for the humanity he’s been told he never had, to find the precious stones of love within the catacombs of his being.
Sakusa‘s eyes crinkled with a smile, and he let him.
They didn’t date right away, the distance between them- both emotional and physical- made it difficult. Still their shared volleyball skills, as well as a healthy dose of luck, gave them plenty of opportunities to make something happen between them. Slowly but surely the roots Sakusa had laid down began to push their way through, down to where the soil was rich and full, to where the streams ended in oasis’ and the nutrition was plentiful. Years pass and his hands finally find a way to intertwine with the lush landscape of Ushijima’s being; strong and certain but still vulnerable and human.
Sakusa hadn’t found a home, but he’d built it from the ground up, with foundations rooted in a mutual understanding of the world. Now they sit together, two forces of nature, opposing but still meant for one another, like the sea and the sky, or the winds to a burning forest fire. An ace to an ace, hand in hand.
Still, those who are truly strong embrace the changes brought by reality, whether or not it is with open arms. To Sakusa and Ushijima, that change comes in the form of a man, or maybe a woman, or maybe a force of nature.
It starts with a team outing.
The MSBY Black Jackals all pile out of their bus after a well earned victory in their bracket, earning them a spot in the next championship. Birds ruffle their chest feathers, veterans pat their less experienced counterparts' backs, and cheers of all forms resound outside the local izakaya; pride dripping from every one of their actions.
Ushijima, having already acquainted himself with the Jackals’ friends and family, of whom some were already familiar to him, stands near the entrance and watches the monster’s parade.
Next to him Hoshiumi and his partner- the catlike ex-setter Hoshiumi seemed to fit into every other conversation- are chattering about some electronic game or another. The two notice a flash of orange in the crowd of Jackals and begin to run (and shuffle, in Kozume’s case) towards Hinata Shouyou- Hoshiumi’s other partner, who happens to fill in the gaps of the rest of his conversations. Kageyama walks towards Miya Atsumu and envelopes them in a tight hug before turning to tease his best friend. The two shortest spikers, never to be outdone, commence a match to see who can break Kozume’s back with a hug first.
Ushijima removes his gaze from the small group. For as entertaining as the debacle is, his attention is grabbed by the last person to leave the bus-turned-zoo.
Sakusa walks out, sanitizing his hands once, then twice, before catching Ushijima’s eye. They walk towards each other and Ushijima doesn’t need to see his lips through his mask to know that he is smiling. Small talk doesn’t come naturally to either of them, so Ushijima does what he does best and acts. He leans down, touching Sakusa’s forehead with his own, and Sakusa brushes a hand against Ushijima’s.
It’s a compromise, somewhere between Sakusa’s surprising-yet-unsurprising desire for touch and Ushijima’s awkward fumbling movements when it comes to anything but hitting a leather ball, moving across a court, or flying high and steady in the air. Touch doesn’t come easy to Ushijima, but compromise and change are things he’d recently learned to do.
The chatter continues on, and the herd of familiar and unfamiliar people take their seats. It’s a process for Sakusa, as everything tends to be. He’s left to inspect the seats before everyone starts piling in (a compromise again, an unspoken rule between the team). Once he finds a seat he deems good enough he wipes it and the table adjacent down with disinfectant wipes. He takes off his windbreaker and folds it carefully, placing it on the back of the chair, but keeps his second layer on in case of any spillage. His cutlery is arranged, and when he finally deems the seating worthy he looks up at Ushijima, who goes through his own much shorter but still just as thorough ritual.
Seeing Ushijima wipe down the table makes Sakusa’s eyes sparkle every time. Though Ushijima never thinks it any particularly big feat, he knows it means the world to his boyfriend, and that makes his heart beat a certain kind of fond.
Eventually all the seats are filled. Sakusa heads the table, if for no reason but to avoid the greatest number of people. Ushijima sits next to him, and Hoshiumi seated on the seat to his right less as a result of their unlikely friendship and more a result of sheer luck.
Though all the friends and couples (and throuples) have already begun to exist in their own bubbles, separate but overlapping, Ushijima notices a distinct lack of anyone in the seat directly opposite him. It’s the seat next to Miya Atsumu, but not the one occupied by Kageyama, who is seemingly content enough letting his partner preen in their friends’ praises (and even more content when the teasing begins). Sakusa doesn’t mention anything related to the empty seat, simply happy enough to subtly lean against Ushijima’s shoulder. So though Ushijima thinks it strange for the bubbly Miya to leave a space empty during a social get together, he files the thought away.
The outing is more or less regular, a collection of mismatched personalities coming together to form a picture greater than the sum of their parts. Even Ushijima finds himself enjoying it, his teammates and old rivals all coming together to just celebrate rather than mourn a loss. The empty seat across him loses priority to the company around him, but not for long.
It’s while Thomas, Hinata, and Bokuto are having a cultural exchange over some kind of obscure topic or another that the thought of it comes back up.
In the form of a man.
No, a woman.
Or perhaps, a force of nature.
The newcomer is objectively pretty. They hold themself up like they were built to stand tall, like the heavens themselves need to see their beauty at all times. Their eyes are mischievous but gentle, the kind that calms you when you’re on the same side of the net, but terrifies you if you’re unlucky enough to be across it. Something about their hair color suits them maybe fifty times better than Bokuto’s did, though Ushijima gets the feeling Bokuto’s three boyfriends would rampage if he ever made that statement out loud.
Not that he fully understands the sentiment, to him statements tend to have a certain objectivity, and though his heart isn’t beating in his throat, he still acknowledges the person’s looks.
“Atsumu,” the beauty says, and their voice is rough and even.
“Kita-san!”
Miya’s eyes glimmer as they turn around. They get up and offer the beauty a warm hug, exchanging pleasantries and compliments in a single breath.
A few of the other residents of the table give Kita their own greetings, new introductions being kept for when they’d finally taken their seat. Ushijima glances to the side at his boyfriend. Sakusa’s eyes hold less animosity for the newcomer and more curiosity, which to Ushijima says that he may already know the person from past accounts. He wonders what thoughts could be going through his mind at a time like this.
“Sorry I’m late,” Kita says, and the name suits them well, “I had to find a different bus since mine got cancelled without warnin’.”
“I was startin’ to get worried ya know,” Atsumu says with a pout, “you’re never late to anything.”
“I couldn’t help it this time,” Kita responds, a small smile on their face, “I sent you a text to tell ya I’d be late. Did’ya forget to check yer texts again?”
Atsumu checks their phone, and pales, “oh shit-!”
Ushijima doesn’t manage to catch their apology, he’s too busy watching the newcomer settle in.
First they check their seat. Then they wipe it down. Once, then twice. They take off their poncho, folding it perfectly and placing it neatly behind their chair. They smooth their skirt, long and flowing and immaculately clean, before finally taking a seat. They organize their cutlery and a single glance to Ushijima’s left confirms it.
Two mirror images.
One beside him, the other in front of him.
It’s already known that love doesn’t come easy to Ushijima Wakatoshi, to him the newcomer is simply thorough, the way anyone else should be. This of course, doesn’t matter, for Ushijima knows that the same cannot be said about his partner.
Love hits Sakusa Kiyoomi like the north wind, it hits him and knocks him back in a second. Heartbeat quickening, face darkening, gasping and begging to feel the air filling his veins. Love hits Sakusa like the smell of air freshener on a spring day, love hits Sakusa like a jump serve to the face, love hits Sakusa like the realization that you get to have yet another volleyball match in your last year of highschool.
Ushijima feels a hand gripping his, and he doesn’t need to look at Sakusa to know what face he’s making. Awe, respect, curiosity, wide eyed wonder, want.
A world of emotion still hidden behind a face mask.
The force of nature smiles at Ushijima and extends their right perfectly manicured hand, rough, calloused and covered in cuts. Ushijima extends his own right, rough and calloused just the same, but with nails bitten down, and bruises instead of cuts. Their grip is steady as they introduce themself, and when Kita turns to Sakusa, Ushijima is shocked to see him extend his hand first.
Something was changing before Ushijima’s eyes. He knows, of course, that those who are truly strong embrace the changes brought by reality, whether or not it is with open arms.
He’s just not entirely sure if he’s ready to do so yet.
The evening passes by with stolen glances and good food, chattering and laughter only punctuated with the occasional challenge or shocked silence at some story or another. Kita still sits across from Ushijima, and Sakusa still sits beside him, though there’s something new about the way they speak to one another. By the look on Atsumu’s face, they’d noticed it too.
When Kita moves to leave, Ushijima decides to make the first move himself. He walks towards Kita as they leave in the direction of Atsumu’s car, and Sakusa walks just a step behind him, as though he were being pulled along by the sleeve (but only as though, for Ushijima isn’t much for contact and Sakusa cannot bare the thought of what might be on Ushijima’s hands getting onto his sleeve.)
It’s a near wordless exchange, phones in hand, timings assessed, goodbyes given. Sakusa watches it happen in awe, surprised that his own Wakatoshi would take the leap for something like this. Little does know, that when a tree digs its roots in as deeply as Sakusa had, that the mountains begin to move to better accommodate for it, to give it the best chances of survival. It’s a give and take, an agreement and a dance, a game that only aims to allow Sakusa be happy and stay happy.
Thankfully for Ushijima, Kita seems to be as open to the idea as his lover is, and slowly but surely the world welcomes the newcomer into its folds.
It takes time, as all else does.
Kita Shinsuke tends to the earth and its lovers like it’s breathing. Systematic, refreshing, simple.
They watch the endless fields and countless ponds, see every root and every cliff, learn to terraform barren ground to beautiful lush landscapes. Pelting cool rain upon stones, warm sunlight upon leaves. Eventually the mountains learn to curl down to meet them, and the trees part to keep them.
Sakusa unravels like vines in Kita’s arms, each languid kiss to his neck draws his branches closer, roots digging deeper until Ushijima has to give. Kita knew from the start that he was uncertain, that unlike forests and shrubbery and all that is living the earth itself does not mold itself to the whims of humanity. Still Kita is as patient as a force of nature. Not once do they dream that someone like them could change the composition of a man like Ushijima, but they hope and pray in their own way.
Love is, to Kita Shinsuke, a habit more than anything.
It’s in the letter they send, the good luck charms, the visits. They’re consistent as clockwork, and like the changing of the seasons, Ushijima eventually learns to let them change him too.
So here they stand, nature at its finest, sprawled over one another like the roll of hills and rice fields, the shade of a cherry tree and the smell of onigiri, the simple joys of genuine smiles from three people who find it hardest to smile. Here they’re free. Here they’re safe. Here they are loved.
“Im lucky to have met you two,” Kita sighs, legs locked around the bark of Sakusa’s thighs, hands deep in the prairies of Ushijima’s hair.
The two of them share a look, and it’s a unanimous understanding. They lean forward, envelope their lover in their very being. The two of them breathe in their earthy scent, feel the calluses on their fingertips, taste the countryside on their lips, and hear the unwavering beat of their heart.
Love is a complicated subject, more unexplainable than any natural form, built on a solid yet ever changing foundation of luck, understanding and patience.
Love is something Sakusa thought he understood.
Love is something Ushijima thought he couldn’t understand.
Love is something Kita had never thought of understanding.
Yet right here, right now, love is the endless universe, this moment forever paused in time, an infinite and ever stretching land built out of three forces of nature; three regular people; three lovers.
Love is… love is… love is…
Ushijima presses his lips to his two lovers’, and his train of thought subsides.