Chapter Text
“Once, I saw a bee drown in honey, and I understood.”
― Nikos Kazantzakis, Report to Greco
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Suna gets his mother’s heart-shaped face. That, and her snub nose. Everything else is his own, not a trace of his father, his mother says vindictively, an almost-frown on her face before she remembers her fear of wrinkles and shakes her head, expression clearing.
She takes his face into her hands and holds him close. “It means we’re meant to be loved, baby,” she whispers to him and kisses him on the forehead, then once on each eyelid. “Isn’t that lucky?”
She smells like cherry lip gloss, and everything he’s ever needed.
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Suna is a lucky boy, lucky because his mother loves him, lucky because he never had to meet his father, lucky because one day someone’s going to re-discover his mother, and she’ll make it big, bring him with her, and then he’ll never have to work a day in his life.
“Lucky because you’ve got such beautiful eyes, ‘Tarou,” she coos. “See?” She traces a long, painted fingernail over his eyelid, gentle, and he looks at himself in the hand-held mirror. Sharp inner corners, a long, slender line, and then an upward tilt at the outward edge. Thin crease across the lid.
He’s seated on her lap in front of the computer monitor on the dining room table, and the screen is opened to a page on eye shapes.
“Phoenix eyes,” his mother reads out loud, “Are a sign of heaven’s favor. Virtue and grace, luck and happiness.” She hums in consideration before clicking off the page.
“And you’ve got double eyelids,” she says, “All natural! Not like me.” The pad of her index finger tugs at her own eyelid, and she makes a silly face, sticking her tongue out. “Mommy had to get hers done.”
Suna giggles.
She holds him tight before she glances at the clock hanging on the wall and stands up, hastily settles him down on the floor. He grabs onto her pant leg when he tilts, unbalanced.
“I have to go for my audition now, baby,” she says, kneeling down so they’re face to face. “Kiss on the cheek for luck?”
He kisses her, and she heads over to tug on her heels, gives him a wave as she hops on one foot. She opens the door and slips out.
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In his third year of middle school, his coach pulls him aside one day after practice, waves him over at the end of a short 3v3 practice game.
“Ooh, Suna’s in trouble,” Suzuki, their setter, teases, and Suna rolls his eyes as the other boy starts to wiggle his eyebrows.
“Everyone, give me five laps! We’ll take a short break afterwards,” their coach orders, and Suna smirks when the others groan. “Suna, follow me. There’s someone that wants to talk to you.”
The squeak of gym shoes against the floor starts as Suna turns away to follow his coach, surreptitiously tugging up his jersey to wipe at the sweat on his face. He can’t remember having done anything wrong, at least not recently, unless maybe this is about his tanking grades, but he’s not too bothered. Anything that gets him out of laps is good in his book.
Outside the heavy double doors of the gym, there’s a bespectacled middle-aged man standing by the water fountain, and he looks up at them as they approach.
“Nakamura-san, thank you for allowing me to watch your team today.”
Suna’s coach dips his head in acknowledgement. “Of course, any time. It's an honor to have you over.”
The other man tilts his head to watch Suna then, and there’s a gleam in his eyes that makes Suna want to straighten up. He slouches a little more.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Rintarou,” he says, and his accent is unfamiliar, round around the vowels. He holds his hand out, and Suna wipes his hand on his shorts before reaching out to meet his grip.
His coach turns towards him, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder.
“Suna, this is Coach Kurosu from Inarizaki High in Hyogo Prefecture.”
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When he comes home, his mother is on the couch, watching reruns of an old drama.
“How was your day, baby?”
“Okay.” He dumps his stuff on the ground and heads into the kitchen to pick up a snack. They keep a jar of jelly sticks on the counter, and he’s only supposed to eat one a day, but his mother never notices. The plastic edges are a little sharp, and they scrape against the corners of his mouth when he sucks, but he doesn’t mind. This one’s strawberry flavored, and he’s not supposed to eat too many of them in a row because they’re also his mother’s favorite, but he thinks he deserves it today.
Suna walks back into the living room and throws himself down on the left side of the couch, the cushion sinking in alarmingly as he sits. One of these days, he’ll sit down too hard and get jabbed by one of the springs, but it hasn’t happened yet, and until it finally breaks, he's not likely to change his habits.
Her forehead is wrinkled as she stares at the screen, and she’s chewing on the nail of her thumb. She points at the TV. “Doesn’t her acting look stilted to you?”
Suna looks. “You could do better,” he says, like a dutiful son.
His mother beams.
Which reminds him, “You’re going to see that director tomorrow, right?”
“Yes.”
“Okay.” His hands are a little sticky from the jelly stick, and he rubs his thumb and forefinger together. On the TV screen, the actress wails as her husband is brought out of a burning house and placed on a stretcher.
“Guess what happened today, Mom?”
“What?” she asks, distracted.
“A coach from a high school came over and talked to me today. He wants me to join their volleyball team.”
His mother turns to look at him, then, her eyes sharp and focused all of a sudden, and wordlessly, he reaches into the pocket of his jacket to hand over Coach Kurosu’s business card.
“You mean a scout?”
“Yeah.” He folds the straw of the jelly stick in half, and then in half again. “He’s been watching my games, and he thinks I’d be a good fit for their team.” He bites his cheek to keep from smiling too broadly at the memory.
“He thinks my spikes are really unique,” he brags, pride coloring his tone.
There’s a tiny furrow between his mother’s eyebrows as she reads over the business card, and when Suna reaches over for the remote to turn off the TV, she doesn’t even flinch.
“Inarizaki, Mom. They’re, like, one of the best.” He owns a tape of the games that were played at Nationals last year, and the cheer team of Inarizaki had been unforgettable. That, and the shiny trophy their captain had held up, grinning at the camera, as the audience applauded.
Not first place, not yet. But they could be.
“I don’t know, honey. This says Amagasaki, in Hyogo Prefecture.” She looks up at him with large brown eyes. “That’s really far.”
“We could stay with Grandma, you know she won’t mind.” Last time they had visited, his grandmother had pulled him aside, told him that if he wanted to stay with her, for real, for however long he wanted, if he ever needed to, ever wanted to, he could. He didn’t think she’d been joking.
The plastic crumples in his fist. “And they still came over even though it’s far because they think I’m that good. That means something, doesn’t it?”
Not to mention, with the state his grades are in, he doesn’t think his high school prospects look too bright if he were to attempt the traditional method through studying for exams. Better schools had better volleyball teams. Water is wet. He’s a good player. The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. His grades are still shit.
“Of course it does, baby, and I’m so proud of you, but what about me? I can’t just move somewhere like that, you know job prospects wouldn’t be as good there for me.” She takes back the remote from his loose grip to turn the TV back on.
"What if I went by myself?" he asks, but the hurt look on her face has him backtracking. "Or not, I guess." It's not like he would've done it anyway, even if he could've, wouldn't have left his mother all alone here in Nagoya. Probably. Nonetheless, he frowns. "So that's it? End of story?" Just like that, huh?
His mother doesn't look him in the eye.
Maybe it’s you that’s the problem. Suna thinks suddenly, unbidden, the thought sharp and so bitter it leaves him a little breathless. Nagoya’s a major city, and yet you can’t find a company that wants you here either.
Because this is something he’s realized long ago, realized when he saw his mother come back audition after audition, mouth tight and make up smudged. Realizes every time he finds a letter from their landlord asking for their rent, overdue.
Talent is something someone is born with. You can practice day in and day out, work harder than anyone else, work as hard as his mother does, but star quality is something you’re born with, and those that have it will always have it, while those that do not, never, ever will.
He stands up, and he’s pleased when his inner turmoil doesn’t show in a tremble when he says, “I’m going to my room,” inflectionless.
“Rintarou,” his mother calls out to him, pleading. “Don’t be mad at me.”
In his room, he waits for her to follow him, for her to apologize so he can forgive her like he always does, so they can restart their cycle, safe and familiar, but she never does.
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A week later, she’s singing a different tune.
Earlier, he’d debated staying back at the gym to practice more, dissatisfied with his performance today, but the expectant look that had been plaguing Coach Nakamura’s face all week had left him feeling sick to his stomach, and so he leaves immediately after, avoiding the other’s increasingly questioning gaze.
Now, he sets his backpack down on the ground as his mother beckons to him excitedly.
“Come here, ‘Tarou. Help me choose a restaurant for dinner.”
“I don’t care,” he says, stalling at the door. “Just pick whatever. And I’m not hungry anyway, so you can just go by yourself.”
“Baby,” she says, pouting. “Are you still upset about that school? You know I only want what’s best for us.”
Suna crosses his arms over his chest, defensive. “Well, I wish you would take my future seriously.”
“Honey, you’re still young.” I’m not, he hears her voice whine, because it's her favorite thing to complain about, no matter the fact that people always mistake her for his sister whenever they go out, and he almost rolls his eyes. “You have so much time ahead of you, you need to understand that one setback will not hurt your future.” His mother stares at him with one eyebrow lifted before she sighs.
She takes off her reading glasses and pinches the bridge of her nose, letting out a long breath.
“Come on, Rintarou, I’ve changed my mind, okay?” Suna startles, blinking at her. “Now, will you come over and help me pick a damn restaurant?”
Wary, he does as she says and pulls out the other chair at the dining table, next to his mother.
“What’s the special occasion?” he asks, but what he really wants to do is shake his mother by the shoulders and demand for her to be straight with him for once in her life.
Satisfied, a smile curling at her lips, his mother pulls him close and places a kiss at his temple.
“Now, if we can all be adults here and not throw tantrums at our poor mothers, what I was going to say was that I’ve changed my mind.” She smiles at him and pinches his nose, laughing when he swats at her hand.
“I’ve thought it over, and I think Inarizaki is a good choice for you, and yes,” She holds up a finger when he opens his mouth to interrupt. “I’m sorry about the way I was acting before. I was only thinking of myself.”
Suna narrows his eyes at her suspiciously. “Okay…why?”
“You mean you don’t want to go?” she throws back, teasing.
“No!” he flushes. “No, I do.” But this is happening too fast. He just needs to let it settle a little because it doesn’t feel real yet. “Did you call Kurosu-san? To ask him about the arrangement?”
“Not yet, ‘Tarou. But I trust your judgment. You say they’re a good team, right?”
“Don’t you think you should call, though? Ask about the other stuff, like, I don’t know, about the rules or something?” Aren’t you even a little curious about where I’ll be going to school?
“Of course, I will. If you want me to,” she replies, a confused smile on her lips now. “Is this about where you’ll stay? I already called Grandma, ‘Tarou,” his mother says, gentle. “She says she’d love to have you stay with her while you attend high school.”
Something in his expression must be off because she follows up with a question, a little impatiently now, when he doesn't say anything. "Aren't you happy? This is what you want, right? It’s not like there’s anyone here you’ll miss. You’ve said so yourself before."
Suna blinks. "Yeah, I mean, yeah. Yes, thank you, Mom." He offers her a small smile, and when she grins back, he finds that it's genuine.
Which okay, okay, okay.
Okay.
So, here is a fact (not wish): he’s going to be playing volleyball for one of the best teams in the nation. Here is another fact: they’re going to be leaving Aichi in just a few months. Okay.
Then, he registers her words. “You? What do you mean me? What about you?”
“We’ll talk about this during dinner, baby.” She beams at him, excited again, happy flush in her cheeks. “It’s why we’re celebrating. But help me pick a restaurant, yeah? I was thinking Thai, maybe?” She taps a lacquered nail against her chin in thought.
Sure, Thai food, whatever. He nods. He doesn’t think he’d notice if he ate Suzuki’s socks for dinner.
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“Don’t slouch, Rintarou,” his mother snaps, and he knows she’s annoyed with his attitude. “It’s unattractive, and you’re not eighty,” she says, right before rapping her knuckles on the door of his new home.
Now, somewhere near the dusty corners of his new bedroom, Suna finds himself filled to the brim, overflowing a little, with longing for Nagoya.
It floods him with a suddenness that makes him dizzy, and he sits down on the floor, hard enough to make his tailbone hurt, and curls in on himself, feeling as though if he made himself small enough, he could pack himself into his suitcase and end up back east.
There’s no bed yet in his room, just the thin mat he’ll be sleeping on for the first few days, until the furniture place sends over the new bed frame, one his mother had picked out, made of light-colored wood and infused with new-things-smell.
It’s strange because his mother was right - there’s nothing for him to miss, really, from Nagoya.
He was friendly with his teammates and his classmates, but in a detached sort of way, held them at arms-length, the way you do things you know won’t last.
Because even though he hadn’t known he’d be leaving this suddenly, what he did know was that middle school is a stepping-stone for high school, which is a stepping-stone for college, or the professional world, whatever he decides.
His eyes have been set on the horizon from day-one, ready for bigger, better things, things he deserves because he's good.
Maybe he's a little like his mom in that way, biting off more than he can chew. The thought makes the emptiness in his stomach grow.
And yet.
His heart aches and tips, spilling on to the floor.
His hand reaches into the pocket of his light jacket, and he pulls out a packet of gum. One stick left, and he finds himself unwrapping the silver paper to reveal its inside. Suna shoves the last piece into his mouth and crumples its wrapper in his fist.
When the door opened, his grandmother had taken one look at him, before pinching his ear and herding him into the kitchen, berating him for not eating enough and exclaimed how every time he visits, he just gets skinnier and skinnier, and soon he’ll be nothing but skin and bones and useless on the court.
And while his grandmother fussed over him, his mother had stood to the side and acted a stranger in her own childhood home, already hundreds of kilometers away.
Because his mother had gotten an offer about the audition she'd had the very day after he’d showed her Kurosu’s business card. Her audition had been perfect, apparently, exactly what they were looking for, and this time it isn’t just another facial wash commercial, it’s a drama, 'Tarou, can you believe it?
All of a sudden, it's fine if he goes to Hyogo, goes to school a prefecture away, and actually, he should because they've both got great opportunities right there if only they just reach out and take it.
And he replays that day when he saw her sitting at the dining table, restaurant menus spread over the surface, and he thinks her eyes might have been rimmed red, realizes that she’d probably cried before he came home.
So, yes, he’s happy for her. Of course he is, because she’s his mother, and he loves her.
“Baby, I won’t be staying with you at Grandma’s. I’m going to Tokyo.”