Chapter Text
You like autumn the most. Sun still warm, your surroundings vibrating with light colors, soft yellowes and oranges and rich red. Leaves slowly falling, scattering on the sidewalks.
You especially love September, a month you were born at, and it's not about you being egoistical, no, but because, it's also the month your other half was born. Other half of your heart, of who you are.
You turn around and smile. There's a man staring at you with fond brown eyes, taking your hand in his; he squeeze at it gently.
(Back to Japan, huh?)
And he can swear your smile is almost as bright as the sun itself.
*
"Bokkun. There's a girl, in the bleachers, staring at ya. Quite intensively, I might add."
He turns to his teammate, teasing smile creeping already on his face. "Oi, TsumTsum, are you jealous or something?"
Dyed blonde flicks at his forehead with his fingers, eyes fixed on his face, not moving an inch. "Bird brain", is all Atsumu says for a second, looking middly torn between being annoyed and fond.
"Just take a look, will ya? I'm actually going to do some warm-up, before coach is gonna have my head."
He wriggle his thick eyebrows, suddenly feeling playful, strangely giddy. Maybe it has something to do with awaiting game, energy and hardly contained excaitment filling him to the brim, or Atsumu looking especially handsome today. To be honest, maybe it's nothing unusual, still-
Doesn't really matter, he goes for a kill. "You sure you don't want my help with stretching though, 'Tsumu-kun~?" He cocks an eyebrow, smirks a little.
He sees a slight tint of red couloring the blonde's cheeks, and nearly starts to clap for himself, before he can, however, there's a resigned voice coming from his left. "Bokuto, stop hitting at Miya."
"I'm not hittin' at 'Tsumu, Meian! I'm just trying to be helpful! You know, a thoughtful companion and all that." There's a teasing quality to his voice, which don't go unnoticted by few of their teammates, gathering around.
Meian only sighs loudly, Thomas is trying very hard to make out a translation for words spoken, dumbfounded expression on his face, Sakusa looks bored out of his mind, rolling his eyes, because he's fed up with their antics already, while Hinata's confused face betrays that he can't quite grab the meaning behind what Bokuto just said. Poor Shouyou's oblivious soul. Their libero tries and fails in containing a loud snicker.
Atsumu, for a chance, looks positivly close to murdering him.
"Bokuto", he starts maliciously. "I will fuck ya up, I swear to god-"
Setter's sentance is cut short, another voice pipping in. A loud one, at that, kinda familiar, having this booming quality, they all know too well. "Maybe try asking him out on a date first, hot-shot!"
They all turn around, ones dumbstruck, ones just curious, really. Soon, their confusion deepens even more, when they all see a figure, only few steps away. A tall girl, lean and confident, hands propped at her hips, with her long silver hair, black streaks here and there, tied up in a high ponytail, sporting a black leggins and white T-shirt, with hints of dark blue and gold, number "4" spread proudly on her front, as if for display.
"You-", Atsumu looks at her, furrownig his brows. That's the girl from earlier, the one, who was the sole reason for this whole conversation taking place.
"Bokuto-san, ummm", Hinata tries to form a proper sentance and fails. "Bokuto-san, isn't it, ah, your jersey?" Almost all eyes are on him, in a blink. "I mean, ah, an old o-one. From Fukurodani." He contiunes on stuttering, Sakusa giving him a pity look.
The girl's golden, big eyes are shining, smirk forming on her full lips, attached to pretty cute and slightly round face.
Before Miya can ask what business she has here, eyes looking sharp, not so gentle words at the tip of the blonde's tongue, given the previous argument to certain blockhead, blood still boiling in veins, warming his cheeks, there's Bokuto asking in a small voice, so unfamilliar and strange.
"Aki?"
Atsumu is shell-shocked. 'Is that stupid, overgrown owl even cappable of speaking with an inside voice?', it's all the Miya twin can think for a moment.
Bokuto still feels somehow awestruck, not really believing his own eyes.
But then, there's this one-thousand kilowatt smile, so bright, which he will always be able to recognize, even if it's been years, because that's a perfect replica of his own. His chest fills with overwhelaming warmth, happy tears brimming at his big round eyes, threatened to spill.
She waves at him, slowly. "Hi, love."
(Atsumu is going to have an aneurysm, because, really, what the fuck?)