Work Text:
Tsukishima wasn’t looking for anything in Tokyo.
If anything, Tsukishima was kind of dreading the summer training camp. Five days straight of non-stop practicing, mock games, running drills, and - perhaps worst of all - team bonding. If Daichi hadn’t very strongly implied that Tsukishima wouldn’t be part of the starting lineup anymore if he skipped the training camp, he would definitely be at home right now.
He can’t help but think about his brother on the bus ride there, as he often can’t seem to stop himself from doing these days.
He wonders if Akiteru attended this same training camp, or something similar to it, back when he played. If he had trained hard and practiced his heart out, just to end up watching ashamed from the sidelines as other players who were just more naturally gifted than he was enjoyed the sport he loved without him.
Akiteru was Tsukishima’s hero once.
Tsukishima doesn’t have heroes anymore.
~*~
It only takes one day for Tsukishima to regret coming here.
He knew he should have just gone to bed last night. Nekoma’s captain was nothing if not a notorious provocateur, and Tsukishima fell foolishly into his trap. Who did he think he was, anyways? Fukurodani’s ace is one of the top five spikers in the country. He’s older and stronger and more skilled and experienced than Tsukishima, plus he has Akaashi setting for him. It was childish to get disappointed each time Bokuto spiked a ball through his block. Naturally, Tsukishima’s blocks stood no chance against him.
The only times they were successful in shutting him down completely was when Kuroo blocked with him, telling him exactly what to do and orchestrating the entire thing. Tsukishima was nothing more than an extra body for them, a pawn on the chess board of a game played by Titans.
That’s why he tells himself he won’t be going back to the third gymnasium tonight, or any night ever again.
To be fair, this is the conclusion he had come to long before Kuroo Tetsurou asked to join him for breakfast.
“What?” Tsukishima says, perhaps a little too bluntly, staring up at Nekoma’s captain. Kuroo doesn’t look all that put off by his rudeness, and if anything his stupid smirk only gets bigger. Some of Tsukishima’s teammates are staring at his end of the table none too discretely now.
“I said,” Kuroo repeats slowly, like he’s talking to an infant, “Do you mind if I sit here?”
Tsukishima shrugs, even though he would really rather get swallowed whole by the ground.
“It’s not like there’s assigned seats or anything. You can sit wherever you want.”
It’s hardly an enthusiastic agreement, but Kuroo looks pleased nonetheless as he slides in across from Tsukishima, lazily tossing his tray onto the table and sitting with one foot propped up on the seat next to him.
The silence that follows is a little more than terribly awkward. Even Yamaguchi is no help, pulled into some inane conversation with Hinata on his other side, and leaving Tsukishima marooned with Nekoma’s captain at the end of the table.
Finally, the older boy speaks.
“So,” he says, swallowing a mouthful of his breakfast. “I wanted to apologize.”
Tsukishima bristles, reminders of the last words they exchanged last night flooding back to him.
Careful, or that little shrimp is gonna hog all the glory. You guys play the same position, don’t you?
“I appreciate the gesture, but there’s really no need,” Tsukishima says coolly. Kuroo frowns.
“Aw, c’mon kid, don’t be like that! I felt really bad about what I said after you left last night, you know? I wasn’t trying to actually upset you or anything, I was just trying to, I dunno, push a few buttons.” Kuroo grins devilishly at him.
“As I said before,” Tsukishima says briskly, “There’s no need to apologize, because you didn’t upset me. That would require me caring what you think about me.”
“That would require you caring about anything at all,” Kuroo points out, wincing as soon as the words leave his mouth. “Ah, crap. I’m sorry. Again.”
Tsukishima might have been more angry if the other boy didn’t look so genuinely apologetic about it.
“If I accept your apology, will you leave me alone to eat my breakfast in peace?”
“See, I’d love to,” Kuroo starts in a way that tells Tsukishima he isn’t going anywhere any time soon. “But it’s not just my apology. Bo asked me to tell you he’s sorry, too.”
“Bokuto-san?” Tsukishima narrows his eyes in confusion. He doesn’t remember Bokuto pissing him off in any stand-out way, aside from his general obnoxious personality. “What for?”
“He felt pretty bad about that comment he made about your arms. You know, when he called them, uh, twigs.” Kuroo hides a poorly muffled snort of laughter into his fruit cup. Tsukishima gives him an unimpressed look.
“Nice.”
Kuroo grins lopsidedly at him. “I came over here as a peace offering, but I’m pretty sure I’m just pissing you off more, huh?”
“I was never pissed off in the first place, Kuroo-san. Please don’t worry yourself about it any more.”
“That’s the thing,” Kuroo explains, waving his chopsticks in the air like he’s conducting a grand symphony. “I don’t think I’ll be able to stop worrying about it until I figure it out. So really, you would be doing both of us a favor by just letting me see what makes you tick.”
The next bite of Tsukishima’s runny eggs goes down hard.
“Nothing,” he says quietly. “There’s nothing at all.”
Kuroo’s eyes widen, like he’s surprised by the admission, and Tsukishima suddenly finds the little stain on the table in front of him incredibly fascinating. Picks at it with his fingernail instead of letting Kuroo see the raw honesty written all over his face.
He's not sure if he meant to say that out loud or not.
“We’ll see about that.”
Tsukishima looks up again and finds Nekoma’s captain smiling at him like he’s in on all the secrets of the universe.
“What?”
“The fact of the matter is that you’re not Shorty, and Shorty isn’t you. The biggest difference, the way I see it, is that one of you is trying to work hard to make the most out of what you’ve got, and the other…” Kuroo trails off, shrugging.
It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out who’s who in Kuroo’s scenario.
“I could train every hour of every day and still never be as fast or agile as Hinata. It’s not something learned, it’s just a natural advantage he has.”
“And he could train every hour of every day and still never be able to see the game the way you do. If you put in even half as much effort as some of the other guys on your team, you could - ”
“It would be wasted.” Tsukishima tastes something bitter in the back of his throat. “Wasted effort, just for us to get our asses handed to us by Aoba Johsai again, or another team just like them the next time. The story always ends the same, no matter how hard you may try. ”
Kuroo blinks at him a few times, mouth slack.
“I think that’s the most words I’ve ever heard you say at once.”
Tsukishima blinks back.
“Why are you keeping count?”
When Kuroo laughs, every head in the room turns to him like sunflowers towards the sunlight. It’s not really for any reason as poetic as that, it’s mostly because he sounds like a braying hyena choking on a gazelle bone, but it’s still a force of nature to be reckoned with.
Every person in the room is looking at Kuroo, but Kuroo is just looking at Tsukishima.
“Ah, so you do have a setting other than ‘Melodramatic Teen Angst’.”
“Shut up,” Tsukishima grumbles. He doesn’t quite smile, but it’s a close call.
“You know,” Kuroo says thoughtfully after a few minutes. “It’s okay to try hard at something and not be the best. You can just care about it for the sake of caring. People aren’t meant to just feel things halfway.”
Tsukishima doesn’t have a good response to that. He pushes his food around his tray as Kuroo finishes his own hearty meal in silence. Though, the quiet is admittedly less awkward than before.
“You coming to practice with us again tonight?” Kuroo asks after swallowing the last morsel from his tray with a satisfied exhale.
“Unlikely,” Tsukishima responds instinctively.
“We’ll see about that,” Kuroo repeats. He stands to go, but before he leaves, he pulls a protein bar out of his pocket and tosses at Tsukishima, who barely catches it. “Here, Stretch. Anybody ever tell ya that you need to eat more?”
~*~
Every muscle in Tsukishima’s body aches and screams at him as he drops to the ground, leaning back on the wall behind him and downing his water bottle like a man lost in the desert. His arms tremble from the exertion that just lifting the bottle to his mouth puts on his muscles. It feels like they’re on fire.
The physical repercussions of being in the firing line of Bokuto Koutarou’s monster spikes two days in a row.
His own fault, really, for returning to the third gymnasium.
He blames Kuroo entirely for getting into his head at breakfast. For putting ideas and words in his head that for some reason made him say ‘yes’ when he was invited to practice with them again.
Speaking of Nekoma’s resident brain-washer, Tsukishima does get the slightest bit of satisfaction from watching him cleaning up the gym by himself tonight. His punishment for losing a hand-stand contest against Bokuto.
“Hey, hey, Glasses!” Bokuto plops down next to him and greets him with all the exuberance of a golden retriever, with all the familiarity of lifelong friends rather than two people who just started speaking to each other two days prior. Wordlessly, Akaashi sits in front of them with much more grace than his teammate had. “You better not miss dinner tonight! You look like you could use some serious refueling.”
“Why is everyone so obsessed with my diet lately?” Tsukishima grumbles under his breath.
“I’m afraid if you don’t start bulking up soon, I’m going to snap your arms in half, Specs!” Bokuto laughs.
Tsukishima narrows his eyes slightly at the older boy. “Why do you always call me that?”
“Call you what?” Bokuto asks innocently.
“Everything except for my actual name. Wait a minute,” Tsukishima says, realization dawning as Bokuto suddenly finds the label on his water bottle extremely fascinating. “Do you even know my real name?” He accuses.
The way his face goes redder than Tsukishima has ever seen it is answer enough.
“What? That’s - That’s ridiculous!” Bokuto waves his arms emphatically in the air. Luckily, Akaashi reaches over without even looking and takes the water bottle out of his hand before he can spill it all over the gym floor. “Of course I do! I know exactly what it is!”
“Really?” Tsukishima arches an eyebrow.
“Yes!”
“Okay, then. What is it?”
“I - I know it!” Bokuto turns and tugs on his setter’s jacket sleeve like a child begging for attention. “Akaashi! Tell him what it is!”
“After you, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi gestures politely, like he’s showing his elder respect, but there’s a mirthful curl to his grin. Bokuto sputters, and while he’s distracted and flustered, Akaashi meets Tsukishima’s eye and winks, like they’re in on some kind of secret together. It’s weird. And nice.
“It’s nothing personal, okay?” Bokuto finally whines, slumping in defeat. “I just didn’t know if you were gonna come back and practice with us again, so I didn’t wanna get too attached.”
Tsukishima’s jaw falls slack. “Attached? What, like I’m a - a puppy at a shelter and you’re a little kid whose parents haven’t said you can bring me home, so you don’t want to give me a name yet?”
“Exactly!” Bokuto nods emphatically, blissfully oblivious to Tsukishima’s offense. “But now that I know you’re staying with us, I can start using your name for real! So what is it?”
It’s a very simple question. One that Tsukishima knows the answer to with certainty, but for some reason, he finds himself unable to speak.
No, not just ‘some reason’.
I know you’re staying with us.
What an entirely presumptuous thing to say, putting words into Tsukishima’s mouth like that. Two days - was that all it took for people like Bokuto? Forty-eight hours, and they were already invested. Tsukishima came back once, just one time, and Bokuto was already acting like he was one of them. Like he was part of their - their - whatever you call it.
Why would they even want someone like Tsukishima to ‘stay’ with them? It’s not like he contributes a lot. Not to volleyball, or even to the conversations they have during water breaks.
And yet, here was Bokuto Koutarou, Fukurodani’s ace and one of the top five spikers in the country, smiling like he couldn’t imagine anything better than Tsukishima sticking around.
He must be sitting there stunned for longer than he realizes, because eventually Akaashi answers in his place.
“It’s Tsukishima, Bokuto-san.”
“That’s right!” Bokuto snaps his fingers together in an ‘a-ha!’ motion. “I knew that already! I knew it, didn’t I, Akaashi?”
“You probably just forgot,” Akaashi allows with an indulgent smile. Tsukishima snorts a laugh and tries to smother it with his hand. Akaashi truly has the patience of a saint.
“Hmmmmm,” Bokuto hums very seriously, eyeing Tsukishima and tapping his chin. “It’s a little too long though, isn’t it? Tsu-ki-shi-ma.” He sounds out every syllable slowly and precisely.
“It’s my name,” Tsukishima deadpans.
“Don’t you have a nickname or something? What do your friends call you?”
“Tsukishima.”
“No, I mean your real friends,” Bokuto emphasizes.
And then, because Tsukishima’s life is nothing but a cosmic joke these days, right at that moment, a mop of brown hair pokes its head through the gymnasium three doorway, followed by a very familiar freckled face.
“There you are!” Yamaguchi exclaims when his curious gaze lands on Tsukishima sitting on the ground in a circle with two of Fukurodani’s best players. His eyes go round in obvious shock. “Daichi-san and Suga-san sent me to look for you since no one knew where you were and dinner is almost over. I didn’t realize you were getting in some extra practice. Sorry, Tsukki!”
Bokuto’s eyes light up like he’s got a thousand-watt bulbs behind them.
“TSUKKI!” He stands and shouts so loudly, there’s a good chance Tsukishima’s parents back home in Sendai could hear him. Tsukishima can feel an embarrassed flush creeping up the back of his neck and very pointedly ignores a certain Cheshire-cat smile coming from over by the storage closet.
Tsukishima swivels around to shoot Yamaguchi a withering glare, but the other boy has already scampered off. He has good survival instincts, Tsukishima will give him that.
“Tsukki,” Bokuto repeats, a little more contained. “I like that. It sounds like something a friend would call you.”
“Well then I hope you enjoyed your one free pass to say it.”
“Whatever you say, Tsukki!” Bokuto sing-songs.
“Come on,” Akaashi says, and he moves so quietly that Tsukishima hadn’t even noticed him standing up. “We really should go grab something to eat before the cafeteria closes for the night.” He holds out a hand to help pull Tsukishima to his feet.
Tsukishima looks at it. Then up at Akaashi’s patiently half-smiling face. Then down at his hand again.
He takes it.
“Hey, what about me?” Kuroo complains from across the gym when he notices the other three making to leave.
“Sorry, bro,” Bokuto shrugs helplessly. “You lost the bet, and rules are rules. Right, Akaashi?”
“Those were the agreed upon terms.”
“Aw, come on!” Kuroo whines. His catlike gaze slides over to Tsukishima and his lips curve into a imploring grin. “You’ll stay and help me, won’t you, Tsukki? I know you wouldn’t leave your favorite upperclassman here to starve alone.”
Tsukki. Like something a friend would call you.
“Fine,” Tsukishima relents, and three pairs of eyes go wide with surprise. He ignores the way they all stare at him like he’s a dog that suddenly starting walking on its two hind legs as he starts collecting the stray volleyballs scattered across the gym floor.
It’s only polite to help an older student clean up a mess that he helped make. He was raised to be more respectful than that.
Bokuto groans loudly behind him, and then there are more sneakers squeaking across the gym floor behind Tsukishima.
“Alright, if we finish it up together then we should all be able to make it to the cafeteria in time for dinner. But next time, I won’t be so nice,” he warns, pointing a finger in Kuroo’s innocently smiling face.
They do all manage to clean everything up and make it just before they stop serving dinner. Tsukishima doesn’t even think twice about it when the four of them collapse at a table together, all huddled close enough that their knees knock under the table and their elbows keep bumping as they exhaustedly shovel food into their mouths.
~*~
“Pssst.”
Tsukishima purposely doesn’t turn around.
“Psssst. Tsukki!” The whisper comes a little more loudly this time. “Look over here! It’s us.”
“Did I do something in a past life to deserve this?” Tsukishima stares up at the ceiling and wonders aloud. Against all of his better judgement, he abandons his place in line for the showers, ignoring his teammates’ curious looks, and follows the voice down the hall and around the corner.
He’s entirely unsurprised at who he finds waiting for him.
“Aww, Tsukki!” Bokuto pats Tsukishima so hard on the back, it knocks the air out of his lungs and makes his glasses fall down the bridge of his nose. “You don’t have to do anything special to deserve this, we just like being your friend!”
“I meant something like mass murder,” Tsukishima grumbles under his breath, pushing his glasses back into place.
“Come on, we gotta hurry. Chop chop, Tsukki.” Kuroo places two firm hands on Tsukishima’s shoulders and starts leading him down a back hallway with a set of double doors at the end, Bokuto and Akaashi following closely behind them.
“But it’s after curfew?”
“Yeah, we know that.” Bokuto grins widely at him, eyes glinting with mischief. “That’s why we gotta hurry.”
“I’m not even dressed for practice!” Tsukishima gestures to his sleep shorts and flip-flop clad feet.
“We aren’t going to practice.” Akaashi says simply.
Tsukishima falters in his steps. He had just assumed that they were going to the third gym because that’s where the four of them always went together. He thought maybe they were sneaking out for some late night practice, and wanted Tsukishima to come help block for them. What else would they need him for?
“Then where are we going?”
“What is this, twenty questions?” Kuroo says exasperatedly, squeezing Tsukishima’s shoulders in a gesture that’s a strange mix of chastising and comforting. “Bo and I have been doing this every year since we were first years, and Akaashi came with us last year. We know what we’re doing, okay?”
So this is some kind of ritual for the three of them, something entirely separate from volleyball that they just do…for fun? Not just as fellow players, but as…friends?
And they want him to come with them?
Tsukishima glances over at Akaashi out of the corner of his eye and the older boy gives him a small, encouraging smile.
“Alright, fine. But if we get caught - ”
“We won't get caught!” Kuroo cuts him off. “Jeez, Tsukki, don’t you ever do anything without expecting the worst possible outcome?”
“Not really.”
“How about just this once you expect the best possible outcome, okay?”
Kuroo gives him a final pat on the shoulder before letting him go and working with Bokuto on silently easing open the doors while Akaashi keeps watch and Tsukishima stands there like an idiot, still turning Kuroo’s words over in his head.
Expecting the best is dangerous, because if you expect good things, it means you get your hopes up. And if you get your hopes up, you set yourself up for disappointment. Which is precisely why Tsukishima never sets his expectations too high.
But maybe just this once, it couldn’t hurt.
Once Bokuto and Kuroo have the door cracked open just big enough for four teenage boys to slip through and propped it open with a broom from a nearby supply closet, they sneak out into the night. The summer air is sticky and the humidity clings to Tsukishima like a second skin, but he still breaks out in goosebumps all across his skin. Probably more to do with the excitement of breaking the rules, the adrenaline that floods his system, than the temperature.
“We have to go up to the top of the hill for it.” Kuroo points up to the top of Tsukishima’s least favorite hill on the planet.
“No thanks,” Tsukishima crosses his arms and plants his feet. “I’ve gone up this hill enough times to last me a lifetime at this point.”
The group collectively winces, remembering all of the penalties Karasuno has served this week already.
“Fair enough,” Kuroo concedes.
“Don’t worry, I got this!” Bokuto crouches down in front of Tsukishima, turning back to him with a grin so bright in shone in the darkness. “Hop on, Tsukki, I’ll carry you up!”
Tsukishima’s face screws up in mortification and Akaashi coughs delicately to try and cover his snort of laughter.
“Absolutely not in a million years.” Tsukishima shakes his head vehemently.
“Aw, c’mon Princess,” Kuroo nudges him with his elbow, teasing grin on his face. “Just trust us, would ya?”
Tsukishima looks around at each of the three of them, slowly in turn, and finds that despite his best efforts, he really does.
Trust them.
“You better not drop me,” he warns Bokuto threateningly before wrapping his arms around his neck and jumping onto his sturdy back. Bokuto catches him easily with hands hooked around the backs of his knees and when he laughs, Tsukishima can feel the way his entire body shakes with it.
“Aye aye, Captain!” His gaze slides over to Kuroo, grin turning devilish. “Bet I can run to the top of the hill with Tsukki on my back and still be faster than you.”
Kuroo’s eyes sharpen, smile showing all of his teeth.
“You’re on, man.”
Tsukishima considers trying to stop them, but knows it’s a lost cause. He squeezes his eyes shut and crosses his ankles around Bokuto’s waist. There’s nothing he can do now except hold on tight.
Akaashi counts them down and Tsukishima feels a scream trapped in his throat as they take off. He can feel the wind whipping his hair all across his face and the uncomfortable way that Bokuto’s fingers dig into his legs. It’s not a physically pleasant experience by any account, but when Tsukishima does manage to peek his eyes open and sees the world flying by in muted blue hues and hears Bokuto and Kuroo’s wild laughter ringing in his ears, he doesn’t entirely hate it.
Kuroo ends up winning, but it’s a close call.
Their actual destination is a little ways away, they tell Tsukishima, as they head further and further from the school. Bokuto hasn’t stopped carrying Tsukishima yet, and for some reason Tsukishima doesn’t ask him to. He can’t remember the last time someone carried him on their back like this. Probably Akiteru, when he was much younger.
They end up in a small clearing in the middle of a sparse grove of trees where the landscape opens up into a grassy field. Bokuto carefully slides Tsukishima off of his back, and he watches in confusion as the three older boys drop to the ground, laying on their backs in a circle with their heads crowded together in the middle.
“What are you waiting for, a handwritten invitation?” Kuroo pats the spot on the ground next to him. “Get down here, kid.”
Tsukishima can’t think of any good reasons not to, so he crawls into the space between Kuroo and Akaashi and rolls over onto his back. He’s about to ask what they’re doing down here when he looks up and sees them.
Millions and millions of twinkling stars smattered haphazardly as Yamaguchi’s freckles all across the inky black sky.
His breath catches in his throat.
“I didn’t know you could see this many stars in Tokyo with all the air pollution,” Tsukishima says quietly, like he’s afraid to scare this moment away.
“We’re far enough from the city out here that on the really clear nights like this, you can see a few.” Kuroo explains without looking away from the stars.
It’s not at all what Tsukishima expected when he followed the three older boys that night.
It’s a whole lot better.
They lay in silence for a few minutes longer, just taking in the beautiful, endless sight above them. Eventually, Tsukishima hears someone shifting to face him, and sure enough when he turns his head, Kuroo is looking right at him with a thoughtful expression.
“What?” Tsukishima asks, suddenly nervous.
Kuroo takes a moment before he speaks, as if he’s carefully considering his next words.
“I was talking to some of your teammates the other day and they said there was a guy on the team a few years back with the same last name as you. Said he might be…your brother?”
Tsukishima’s heart gives a painful lurch. “He might be.”
“So that’s why you started playing volleyball, right?” Kuroo asks innocently. “You wanted to be like your brother.”
“I guess so.”
That was all Tsukishima ever wanted.
Kuroo smiles like that explains everything about Tsukishima, like he can suddenly see beneath every layer of Tsukishima’s walls. It was really only a matter of time before he found out what made Tsukishima tick, and they both knew it.
However, he doesn’t us the information to poke at the holes in Tsukishima’s armor the way the younger boy expects him to.
“That’s pretty cool of him,” the older boy says quietly. “That he gave this to you, y’know?”
“Yeah,” Tsukishima blinks back up at the sky. His heart doesn’t hurt so much anymore. “I guess so.”
~*~
“Tsukishima Kei, I hereby declare that you have the right to the pursuit of happiness!” Bokuto says grandly on the last day of the training camp in lieu of a simple goodbye like a normal person.
“What kind of nonsense are you going on about now?” Tsukishima rolls his eyes but lets the older boy pull him into a bone-crushing hug, ignoring the snickering coming from his nosey teammates.
“No, no, he’s right!” Kuroo jumps in. “I’ve heard that one before! It was that English guy, right?”
“Oh, uh,” Bokuto releases Tsukishima and scratches the back of his head sheepishly. “I don’t actually remember exactly where I heard it from…”
“John Locke said it,” Akaashi supplies quietly. “He was a British philosopher.”
“Right, that’s it!” Bokuto beams at his setter and Akaashi gives him a small smile before elaborating.
“It basically means that every person has the right to freely pursue what makes them happy, as long as they don’t hurt anyone else.”
“Well there ya go!” Kuroo throws an arm around Tsukishima’s shoulders, cocking his head to peer at him curiously. “Does this make you happy?”
Which part is Kuroo talking about? Playing volleyball, or being with the three of them?
Either way, he supposes the answer is just the same.
“Maybe a little,” he admits softly. He’s surprised when another pair of arms are suddenly wrapping around him.
“Then don’t give up on this,” Akaashi whispers, low enough that only the four of them can hear it. “Your moment will still come, Tsukishima. Please don’t give this up.”
Tsukishima thinks that maybe, just because it was Akaashi who asked him, he won’t. For a little while longer, at least.
When he pulls away and looks Tsukishima in the face again, Akaashi smiles gently.
“Don’t be sad. We’ll all see each other again very soon.”
“We will?” Tsukishima asks. He’s not sure what in his expression gave away the fact that he was sad.
“Course we will!” Bokuto rests an elbow on Akaashi’s shoulder, beaming at Tsukishima.
“At Nationals,” Kuroo finishes. Tsukishima thinks that maybe the look on his face - on all of their faces - is a little bit proud.
Tsukishima is a little bit proud of himself, too.
~*~
He waits until everyone else has fallen asleep on the bus ride home to pull out his phone and punch in a familiar number.
When the ringing stops, a warm voice answers from the other end.
“Kei! Isn’t this a pleasant surprise.”
“Akiteru.” Tsukishima smiles and rests his head against the window. “Sorry to call you so late, I just… I wanted to talk to you about the training camp I was just at.”
“You - You want to talk to me about volleyball?” Akiteru’s words come out a little choked, and even through the phone, Tsukishima knows his older brother is tearing up.
“If you’re not too busy.”
“No! No, I’m not too busy at all. I’d love to hear about it.”
“Okay,” Tsukishima breathes. “It all started in the third gymnasium…”
~*~
Tsukishima doesn’t have heroes anymore.
The very notion of a ‘hero’ is too romanticized, too unrealistic. It’s illogical, unreasonable, to put someone on a pedestal like that, untouchable and incapable of doing any wrong.
What Tsukishima does have is friends.