Chapter Text
Keiji took a step back, legs shaking at the sight of velvety petals that were now strewn across the cubicle floor of the public restroom. Outside, he heard the faint whistle of the referee, followed by the familiar cheers of his beloved team.
The set was over, and victory tipped to Fukurodani’s favor.
Sighing, the now-exhausted boy flushed the toilet, taking a few sheets of toilet paper from the dispenser and gingerly disposing of the unappealing mix of saliva, blood, and petals he had regurgitated just now.
Lilies , he thought to himself.
The symbol of rebirth.
He had run into the restroom stall just a few seconds after the opposing team, Nekoma, had called time out. The score was 23-19 with Fukurodani in the lead, and he was trapped in a motivational group hug initiated by none other than their captain.
When everyone dispersed, Koutarou kept Keiji in a hug for just a second longer, a subtle, unnoticable gesture they were mutually oblivious to.
The younger boy had to bolt, feeling the sickness in his stomach.
“It’s a rare disease from your father’s side of the family,” his mother once told him. “It’s incurable by medicine, but you heal after your unrequited love is returned to you.”
She giggled fondly at Keiji’s dad. “I remember how he threw up tulips before asking me out on our first date.”
What a strange phenomenon this truly was, yet Keiji opted to pay no mind to it. The team was too busy training and preparing for nationals, he didn’t have time to sit around and wallow in pain from throwing up flowers, wondering who his mysterious, unrequited love could be. It wasn’t like he was someone who caught feelings, either. Volleyball and school were far more important than any romantic interest his inherited disease wanted him to pursue.
Perhaps volleyball was his unrequited love?
He splashed some water on his face and walked back into the illuminated atmosphere of the Tokyo Sports Stadium. His teammates were cooling down in the sidelines, grinning from ear to ear at their winning performance.
“Hey, hey, Akaashi! It’s about time you came back!” a boisterous, spiky-haired boy called out from behind Keiji, and if he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought the police were coming after him.
“Hi Bokuto-san,” he responded calmly, taking a seat within his teammates’ cool down circle and mirroring their stretched position. “I’m sorry for missing the last few points, but it appears there was nothing to worry about.”
Koutarou pouted at him. “Y’know, the first-years don’t exactly set the same way you do. No offense though!” he called out to the young boys quietly sitting across the room. They smiled in embarassed approval.
“I won’t always be the one setting to you,” Keiji let an amused smile grace his lips. “After you graduate, plenty of talented setters will have to babysit you in my stead.”
Something about what he said caused a pang to shoot through his chest, but he expertly hid it behind a chuckle.
Probably just some leftover pain from earlier.
“Pah, all this graduation talk again! I’m only halfway through my third year, I still have the Spring High Tournament to spend with the rest of you!” Koutarou cheered, his laughter echoing through the stadium.
“Oi captain! Enough with the shouting and go cool down! We don’t want to hear you cry over cramps again,” Konoha called from beside Keiji.
The dark-haired setter laughed alongside his teammates as Koutarou animatedly ran to the middle of the circle to show off ‘ how the best aces cool down their muscles’ .
The rest of the year and Spring High Tournament, huh?
All his thoughts of what went down in the restroom were quickly forgotten, replaced by careful calculations of how they could grab their next big win.
The bus ride back to Fukurodani was pleasantly silent, save for Koutarou talking (screaming, rather, but Keiji was used to it) his ear off about how he scored the team’s winning point against Nekoma.
“You should’ve been there, Akaashiiiii~! Komi was all POW and then Sarukui went WOOSH and then I delivered the final KABOOM!” the ace demonstrated the act with his arms, passion evident in his words. Keiji listened to him, paying attention to his senior’s shifting expressions and furrowed eyebrows.
His first mistake was looking into Koutarou’s amber eyes, which appeared golden to him as the five o’ clock sun reflected perfectly upon it.
He felt his chest tighten and his stomach turn.
Oh no, anytime but now.
“Akaashi?” Koutarou stopped mid-story to shoot a concerned look at his kouhai. “Are you feeling sick?”
The younger boy nodded, causing the golden-eyed ace to swiftly reach into his gym bag and hand him a plastic bag. The team was always ready for Keiji’s random bouts of sickness, albeit clueless to the underlying cause of his constant puking.
Five minutes later, he had filled the bag halfway with stomach juices and flower petals.
Sunflowers. A symbol of loyalty and admiration.
Tying up the bag by its handles, he dashed out of the bus and disposed of it as soon as they pulled over at a gas station for a pee break.
The rest of the ride back was left incident-free, to Akaashi’s gratitude. It was at this point that he humored his thoughts and considered that he might be in a one-sided relationship with his favorite sport.
A celebratory sleepover at Sarukui’s house allowed him the opportunity to blurt out his thoughts.
“How do I make volleyball love me back?”
The team stared at him with confused expressions, eventually turning into smirks and laughter filled with ridicule.
“You miss the last two points of a national-level game and now you get all sappy on us, Akaashi?” Konoha snorted, reaching over to give his kouhai a teasing pat on the head.
Keiji stifled a small laugh, fidgeting with the drawstrings of his hoodie. He wasn’t sure how to provide them the entire context of the situation.
“Hey, don’t add insult to his injury, Konoha!” Koutarou guffawed, driving his palm into Keiji’s back a little harder than expected.
The younger boy’s eyes widened in shock, bursting into a coughing fit.
Petals flew out of his mouth as he cleared his throat, a small layer of tears brimming his eyes as he realized what was happening.
Sunflowers, again.
Silence fell upon the room. Keiji’s mouth gaped open, ready to verbalize any form of explanation, but nothing came.
“Akaashi,” Bokuto started ever so gently, breaking the ice. “Did you just cough out FLOWERS???”
Commotion quickly replaced the deafening silence from earlier, with Sarukui freaking out as he made a run for the landline to call 119, Komi running to the kitchen to get water and coming back balancing three jugs, almost tripping over Bokuto who was sobbing on the floor, apologizing profusely for breaking Keiji, and Konoha forcing the poor raven-haired boy down on a futon to give him CPR, which he had absolutely no idea how to do.
“Everybody, please, I can explain,” Akaashi croaked, attempting to wrestle out of his senior’s grip.
“Everybody, please calm down. I can explain.” he raised his voice ever so slightly, in a tone he only used during critical times on the court when the whole team was overcome with grief or nerves.
That seemed to grab their attention. All eyes were now on Keiji, mouths agape, and the setter couldn’t help but laugh at the picture of his teammates excessively worrying over his well-being, limbs stretched in midair and puddles of water scattered across the floor.
It was times like this where he was reminded of just how lucky he actually is to be a part of this family.
Once everything and everyone settled down, Keiji began the not-so-long story of his inherited disease, its causes, symptoms, and complications. His concerned teammates took in every word, nodding in encouragement and urging him to keep going whenever he hesitated.
“So,” Sarukui looked at him quizzically. “You think your long lost unrequited love is a sport?”
Keiji nodded slowly. “I know it sounds ridiculous, but it’s the only feasible explanation given that I’ve never liked anyone in my entire life.”
He paused.
“Now I guess I have to figure out how to make volleyball love me back.”