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Monday, March 4.
Koushi heard Asahi click his tongue and mumble something as he checked the time.
“I’ll be late again.”
The third-years were the only ones still in the gym; the sun had set over an hour ago.
“Go home, Asahi.” Koushi sounded both chiding and gracious at the same time, but the smile on his face was all the latter. “We’ll clean up.” Koushi turned around to Daichi, who nodded in response.
“You sure?”
Koushi knew he would have to walk home on his own if he let him go now, but he understood the rush: Lately now, every family dinner had held a little more importance in a way—there weren’t going to be many quite like this once Asahi left for university in Tokyo. Koushi knew best that nothing was going to be quite the same in two months’ time.
“Yes, go!” He shooed him out of the gym, laughing softly.
Asahi nodded and smiled at him to say thank you, and half-walked, half-jogged outside. Koushi stood grinning, waving goodbye, watching him leave.
“You should still tell him.”
Koushi’s head whipped to Daichi standing next to him, putting his hand on his shoulder now.
Daichi knew—had known for about a year—because, well, Koushi had confided in him, finally, though probably he knew even before then; his gift, curse, duty maybe, to know as their captain and their friend both.
“Huh?” Koushi was playing dumb, and he was sure Daichi was aware, but he also didn’t know what else he could say to him that he hadn’t said—to both Daichi and himself—a hundred times before. Like so many things he did lately, it was an attempt to win some time.
But Daichi’s tilted head didn’t humor him.
“Like, listen, I know…”
“Yeah, no, I don’t know,” Koushi shook his head, eyes darting back to the gym door, long after Asahi had walked out of view, and sticking. “I don’t want to lose him. I can’t—” This was exactly the type of thing he’d gone over so often.
But Daichi wasn’t going to let him finish this time. He had watched his friend quietly tear himself apart over this too many times, always going back and forth trying to cover all the horrible possible outcomes; he was sure it must tire him.
“OK but you know that’s bullshit,” he cut him off, “Right, Suga?”
Coming from anyone else, this might have sounded a little too harsh; but because it was Daichi, it just felt like a matter of fact. It sobered Koushi a little, and he tore his eyes from the door finally.
“No matter what his reply will actually be, you think he would stop being your friend?”
He didn’t actually need to wait for an answer—Koushi knew Asahi better than anyone else, he reckoned, so he would know this, too.
And he did know, really, if he thought about it, he knew.
The two of them went to pick up the rest of the balls strewn around the gym and for a while, Koushi didn’t say anything else on the subject. In silence they locked the door to the equipment room and turned off the lights in the gym.
They were just rounding the corner of the school courtyard when Koushi finally spoke again.
“I just don’t know—how,” he blurted out, almost making Daichi jump. “Or when anymore.”
The sudden break in their silence might have caught him off-guard for a second, but when Koushi looked over, he was comforted to find his friend was taking a moment to genuinely think of what to say—to think of a solution. This had always been his thing, treating his friend’s problems as his own, and not letting up before they’ve found an answer together.
“Just ask him if he wants to come over for dinner,” he said finally. “Tomorrow after practice.”
Koushi was about to protest—something about how easy he made it sound startled him, and wasn’t tomorrow a bit of a rush?—when he realized what Daichi would’ve responded with anyway. If he felt like he was running out of time, how could tomorrow be too soon? And anyway, considered within the scope of the last three years, “too soon” was starting to sound a bit like a bad joke.
So, to his friend’s mild surprise, he just nodded. “All right.”
Daichi smiled softly at him and pat him on the shoulder, as if they were on the court celebrating a point scored.
Tuesday, March 5.
Really, when he thought about it, there had been more than a few moments in which Koushi had wanted to tell Asahi, had almost come close to telling him. More than enough walks home from practice, Sundays spent in Asahi’s backyard or in his own room, even late-night bus rides to Tokyo when everyone but them was asleep, and he probably could have gotten away with it without anyone else hearing.
But in all those moments there had been something, too, that had made him reconsider, made him stop halfway, turn back, and reschedule his confession for later. Ultimately, what there was to tell always seemed a little too scary in the moment, no matter how sure he had been of it just seconds before, or how heavy it would weigh on him if he continued to carry it around in silence.
And weigh it did: For the better part of the last three years, it had only been growing in his chest, and recently, he had started to feel it almost suffocating him in these moments, when his previous worries started to mix with the panic of running out of time. Because now, in the final stretch of their third high school year, Koushi was growing surer by the day that if he didn’t tell him soon, he might not ever get another chance.
But Daichi was right, Daichi was right, Koushi kept telling himself. He kept hoping he would eventually drown out his doubts that way. After all, he knew how silly it was to worry this much—it was exactly the kind of thing he would tell his younger teammates not to get hung up on—so why did he?
Koushi shook his head violently in an attempt to force it blank; he made the conscious effort to not think about any of this as he made his way over to Asahi’s locker. At the end of the day, they had done this countless times before—letting Asahi see how nervous it made him today would only make matters worse for himself.
He cleared his throat, grin on, hand out to clap his friend on the back. As Asahi turned to greet him, he grinned right back, and Koushi had already forgotten what he had ever been worried about.
“Hey,” he sang, hand still resting on Asahi’s back a moment longer. “You wanna come over for dinner tonight?”
Asahi took a fraction of a second to make his decision, then smiled and nodded. “Sure!”
He closed his locker door as Koushi smirked at him and gestured for him to accompany him to class.
“My mom’s making tonkotsu ramen.”
“Ooh!” Asahi’s eyes widened and Koushi swore he could see them sparkle for a moment. He did his best to not look too pleased with himself—Asahi didn’t need to know he had specifically requested his friend’s favorite dish for tonight.
The two said goodbye in front of Asahi’s classroom, and Koushi made for his own down the hall. His steps turned into hurried strides as he rushed to report to Daichi, like some giddy grade schooler with a crush.
Practice went by like a dream that day, quickly and elusively somehow, until it was over and the boys had changed and Koushi and Asahi were on their way to the Sugawaras’ house.
Under the orange-yellow light from the streetlamps, their conversation kept mainly to school, and a little to what would come after. Koushi kept his ears open for an opportunity, of course, a moment; but none presented itself. And for the moment he was content to just listen to his friend talk about admission fees, and train travel times, and the price of Tokyo’s student housing. Kept him, at least for the moment, from having to talk about, well—the innermost contents of his heart.
And so the evening made its way into night.
Koushi was sure Daichi had had the right idea suggesting an occasion as simple as dinner on a Tuesday; at the end of the day, a confession would only have to be a big deal if he made it one—something he had often tried to remind himself of.
But he hadn’t considered the reality of it. Or, he had tried to, but he couldn’t have accurately anticipated all of it. He’d had no way of foreseeing that even in so much time between them, there might never be a moment right enough for Koushi to feel like he could tell him. He couldn’t have known—he must have forgotten all those other times before—just how quiet Asahi’s silences could be, when his warm eyes stayed focused on Koushi’s face for a moment too long again and made him grow too afraid again, afraid he might not ever get to see those eyes again if he messed this up.
Then, before he knew it, they were sitting at the dinner table with his family. Koushi’s parents asked his friend about the university he was leaving for, and Asahi told them all about it. He looked a bit flustered as they commended him on his grand plans, but Koushi could see something else—like a mixture of pride and excitement—in his eyes, too.
Koushi knew that Asahi had every right to be excited, and he was just as proud of him, if not more so. And he hoped that was all that visible in his own eyes: all the excitement and all the pride, and no trace of the pang in his heart that came with all of this, too.
Asahi thanked Koushi’s mother for dinner and said his goodbyes to the family, big smile on his face, cheeks warmed slightly pink from the soup and the atmosphere.
But Koushi didn’t want to say goodbye yet—there were other things he had to say still. He knew he would see his friend in school again the next morning, but he also knew this might be his last real chance.
“Mind if I walk with you?” he asked as Asahi stepped out of the door.
There was the slightest bit of confusion in his friend’s face at first, but he shrugged his shoulders and nodded anyway.
“It’s a little cold though,” he added, meaning You can’t go in your sweater, gesturing to Koushi’s warmer coat on the wardrobe almost commandingly. It was a habit the two of them shared, always looking for the other like this—sometimes to a point where their friends would tease them for mothering each other.
“Yeah, yeah,” Koushi shook his head chuckling, put on his coat, and closed the door behind himself.
It wasn’t a long walk to Asahi’s house—on any other day a fact Koushi had been thankful for. They had been able to walk to and from school together all the time, and either could be at the other’s house in ten minutes or less, whenever they wanted to.
But for that night only, he wished the walk was just a little longer.
He was always wishing for more time these days; he didn’t want to think about what it would be like to not have Asahi so close anymore.
“Hey, Asahi?” he said to him suddenly, before he could think to stop himself. His voice came out a little too loud in the night, and sounded just taut enough to put a concerned furrow in his friend’s brow.
“Yeah?”
And there it was again: the trace of worry Koushi thought he could hear in his tone made him nervous again—he felt like retreating, like changing the subject before it had ever even been brought up.
He cleared his throat and did his best to sound collected this time around.
“You really are excited for university, aren’t you?” He rammed his elbow into Asahi’s side and smirked at him.
If Asahi’s face looked concerned before, all concern was quickly replaced with a genuine, broad smile.
“I am, yeah.” He sounded so grown up when he said that, Koushi thought. He smiled back at him and nodded softly.
“Aren’t you?” Asahi asked him in return, head tilted to the side.
Koushi blinked at him. “Oh, yeah, no, I am!”
And it wasn’t a lie, though he feared he sounded a bit like he was still trying to convince himself.
“But I think I’m gonna miss high school, too,” he continued, eyes focused firmly on the street ahead, to avoid the risk of them giving him away. “You know how sometimes—you can tell you’re going to miss something? Before it’s gone?”
Asahi kept his eyes on his friend, trying his best to read his face though it was turned away from him.
“Mmh, yeah,” he nodded solemnly. “I’m going to miss you, too, Koushi.”
Now he did turn to look at him again—for a moment, and not quite intentionally, he stopped in his tracks and just looked at him. He found that somehow Asahi’s features looked even softer in the moonlight, and it made his heart ache. Could this be--?
If it was, Koushi didn’t quite know how to go on from there. And he didn’t get any more time to figure it out.
“And school,” Asahi went on, scratching the back of his neck, “And the other guys.”
Koushi didn’t know what to say. And just like that, he resorted back to default settings: “Well, I doubt it’ll be the last you see of us,” he replied, teasing smirk on his lips. He hoped he would buy it.
Asahi smiled, the skin around his eyes crinkling. “Right!” He rubbed his hands together to try and fend off the cold. Koushi would warm them for him, if only he asked.
“But anyway, I think leaving all this might be good, too,” Asahi went on. “Start new things, you know?” Koushi was still looking at his hands.
“Oh, yeah. Sure!” He was smiling at him, but he would have been lying if he’d tried to tell anyone—including himself—that the last of what Asahi had said hadn’t hurt him. He really wished it hadn’t; it felt terribly selfish to feel like this when his friend was so excited—and he was excited for him! He did his best to show it, too.
They turned a corner and Koushi could already see Asahi’s house down the street. Whichever way he tried to turn it, he couldn’t find a way to tell him now.
When they reached the house, they said goodbye at the door, they made plans to meet in the cafeteria the next day. Asahi went inside and Koushi waved as he watched him close the door from inside. He was glad their front yard wasn’t well lit—he wouldn’t have known how to explain the tears in his eyes.
Saturday, March 30.
Their last weeks of school went by so quickly, and all Koushi could do was watch them pass right before his eyes. Somehow, he made it through commencement without any tears—to his own surprise. Maybe because, to him at least, everything was still feeling very surreal.
But the team’s last practice together was a different beast. It wasn’t supposed to feel so official—Daichi had already passed on the role of captain to Ennoshita weeks ago, and they had all known the day would come, ultimately. So, everyone did their best to ignore the apparent, put all their energy and attention into the game they were playing. They stayed till long after sunset; and when the time eventually came to pack up and clear out the gym, Koushi was far from being the only one tearing up: Daichi, Asahi, some of the first years, too—they could all feel it. The end of something like this was always going to hang heavy in the air.
Koushi hugged his kouhai, patted backs and ruffled hair, scrambled to find a pack of tissues in his bag to give to Yamaguchi. As he went to hand it to him, he could see that Tsukishima had one hand on the small of his boyfriend’s back—such a tiny gesture, but one that screamed of affection, of comfort. The two of them both nodded to thank him, and he gave them a smile that swam somewhere between sympathy and, in spite of himself—jealousy.
But that part of it was childish, Koushi was well aware of that. He did what he could to hide it; teeth clenched hard, he turned the smile into the best approximation of his he could muster of his usual grin. It was what he knew his teammates would want to see from him that night.
The hardest part of it all, however, had, as expected, been saying goodbye to Asahi. Koushi had walked over to his house early in the morning to be able to see him off before he left for Tokyo.
It would be a six-hour drive, he had told him the night before, and it would be a busy day once he got there, so best to leave early. So Koushi was there before the sun had even risen, standing in front of his house, freezing in the harsh morning air, trying to keep it together at all costs.
In a way, Asahi made it quite easy for him: He could see the excitement plainly on his friend’s face, could feel it in the air even, like electricity coming off of his body as he scurried around, packing the last of his things into his father’s car. And, in spite of everything, it was hard not to get caught up in his buzz of anticipation; it was a little hard to reconcile with the weight of it, but in his own chest, Koushi could feel his own heart beating just as excitedly—ever the walking contradiction.
Before long—it could have been five minutes or sixty, and it would have been too little time either way—Asahi was all ready to go. He slammed the trunk door shut and leaned back against the car. When he looked over to Koushi, he could see he had been watching him, a gentle smile on his face. He couldn’t quite read it—it was that way sometimes with him.
"What?” Asahi asked, his voice laced with bemusement.
Koushi looked lost in thought for a second more, but then he shook his head and laughed.
“My boy’s all grown up!” he teased, clutching his chest for dramatic effect. In the moment he wasn’t sure if making light of the situation was really the smartest move, but it was the only one he could come up with, so it would have to do.
Asahi opened his mouth to protest, but gave it up just as quickly—just rolled his eyes and snorted.
There was a moment of silence between them, and then another—the only faint sounds coming from the first morning birds starting their songs and from Asahi’s father looking around the house for his car keys. Neither of them knew what else to say.
Maybe there was nothing else to say, Koushi thought. Maybe he just had to accept that.
The boys could hear shouts of “I’ll be right there!” coming from inside the house, and even without words they had the same thought right away: they both went to close the gap between them at the same time, arms opening, and then closing tightly around each other as if in practiced synchronicity.
Koushi took the chance to bury his head into his friend’s shoulder, and tried his hardest to memorize every bit of how it felt to be wrapped in his arms. He knew it was a touch melodramatic to think, but he just didn’t want to be able to forget. He just wanted to hold on.
When he finally did try to pull himself away from the hug, Koushi was stopped—for just a second—by Asahi’s arms still clasped around him, squeezing him tightly one more time before letting him go. He smiled warmly at him as they broke away from each other, and Koushi wondered how long it would be before he would see that smile again after today. Something about that last second had made his heart beat even louder than before, but he didn’t quite dare to make assumptions about it. There was something else, too, a sort of glitter in his friend’s eyes, he noticed. Though it might just have been the light of the sunrise being reflected in them. Or maybe—
Asahi’s father came out of the house finally, got into the car and started it.
Now all that was left was for the boys to say goodbye one more time; Asahi vowed to text him once he got there, Koushi nodded and grinned, and stood waving as he watched the car drive down the street, all the way until they drove around a corner and out of his sight.
And just like that…
For a moment or maybe longer, Koushi just stood there in the street. Alone now.
He could feel like sun shining on him, but he didn’t really register its warmth. When his feet did eventually move, it didn’t even seem like he was the one in control of them. His head felt a little cloudy, he noticed—from a lack of sleep maybe, or an excess of emotion. Maybe it was a mechanism of self-preservation.
It was late in the evening when Koushi got Asahi’s text; he had gotten there fine, the day had been stressful but he’d managed to get everything done, and now he was bone-tired. He couldn’t help but feel a bit relieved Asahi delivered on his promise of sending him that message, even though he’d never actually doubted that he would. After all, they both knew that moving wouldn’t mean they would suddenly be strangers. It couldn’t.
Still—the distance between them now was hard to ignore, and impossible to deny. Laying in his bed with his phone on his chest, Koushi wondered if it was selfish to hope he could hold on to his friend, even across that distance. He wondered if the distance could possibly dilute the regrets he had—or if it would only make them weigh heavier. He feared the latter was much more likely. He was no stranger to missed chances; but this one felt a little more final than most.
Monday, April 8.
5:22 pm.
hey what’s up!! how was your first day??
6:18 pm.
Hii
Great, class was really exciting (≧◡≦) Urs?
6:20 pm.
tohoku doesn’t start till next week haha
6:20 pm.
Ohh right
6:21 pm.
soo, feel like a real tokyo man yet? ^^
6:21 pm.
Hahah not really
Guess what
I got lost on campus actually…
6:22 pm.
you did?? haha
6:23 pm.
Don’t laugh! But yeah
But this place is really big and confusing… in my defense
6:23 pm.
oh yeah sure it is
loser :)
6:23 pm.
(*μ_μ)
Wednesday, April 17.
...
8:49 pm.
Just got back from practice actually
Hey Tohoku has a team too right?
8:50 pm.
they do yes :)
8:50 pm.
And did you join?
8:51 pm.
yeah
i wasn’t sure at first
but the team is really nice
8:52 pm.
Ah niice (o˘◡˘o)
I’m glad
8:54 pm.
yeah
hey imagine if we ever got to play each other!! ^^
8:54 pm.
Ohh
Idk I wouldn’t want to play against you Koushi
8:55 pm.
?
8:56 pm.
I wouldn’t be able to win
9:01 pm.
psshh
nonsense asahi
Friday, April 24.
4:43 pm.
the team says hi!!
10:22 pm.
Ahh how is everyone?
10:27 pm.
they’re doing great!
they won haha
10:28 pm.
I wish I could’ve come and watched the game too..
Sorry I didn’t
10:29 pm.
don’t worry about it
maybe you can come next time
:)
Tuesday, June 11.
Tohoku University’s volleyball team met for practice Tuesdays and Fridays. It was their women’s team that generally had more success in the tournaments, Koushi had been told, but the men’s team seemed no less strong to him. He could sense from the first time he saw them that they must work well together on the court; a hunch proven right when he first got to play with them.
Because they were in dire need of a new setter—their regular one had gone abroad for the semester, they told him, and no one else had been quite able, or willing, to fill the spot—the team welcomed Koushi with open arms. It warmed him to feel so… needed, although he still felt a little strange to be playing on a new team so soon after leaving Karasuno.
And it didn’t take him long to understand what they had meant about the setter’s position being a tough role to fill. They had a somewhat peculiar way of playing, Koushi found; not chaotic, really, not uncoordinated—but difficult. Difficult to read as an outsider or an opponent; and near impossible to navigate as a teammate, if one hadn’t yet spent a lot of time on their court. Koushi knew it wasn’t arrogance that made them play like this—it was familiarity that let them. He knew because he recognized it.
The team had assured him they would be patient with him, but they didn’t need to be for long. He understood it as a challenge, and he welcomed it. By the end of the first practice game, he’d had most of their little tricks and idiosyncrasies figured out. And he played well with them. The tug at his heart strings when he thought of his old team was undeniable, but so was the sheer joy of being on the court again, of actually being utilized for a change.
After almost two months on the team, the other players had fully taken him in as one of their own, so to speak. Whenever it came to practice games, their captain and co-captain would act out this little fight over which side got Koushi as their setter. He did his best to not let it go to his head; he suspected the whole show was not least intended for himself, too, to make him feel welcomed.
“Great job, Suga-san!” the team captain called out after their last game of the evening. He ran over to him and put his arm around his shoulder. Koushi nodded and smiled, and praised his teammate’s attacks that had gotten them the win.
His arm still draped around him, he turned his head to face Koushi with a broad grin. “Suga-san, I hope you’re free next Saturday.”
Koushi only blinked at him; he didn’t know what to reply. He tried to interpret his tone but he wasn’t sure how to—it made him grow nervous for a second. Was he—?
The captain must have seen the confusion on his face, because he suddenly laughed and scrambled to explain: “We have this thing, see, the boys, we go to Tokyo once a semester for a practice match!”
Koushi’s eyes inadvertently widened at the mention of Tokyo.
“It’s cause it’s an old school friend of mine plays there. It’s like a little tradition…”
“What school?” Koushi didn’t mean for the question to come out as quite so eager.
“Bunka. The fashion school, you heard of it?” he smiled at him, head cocked, “And I know, I know, you wouldn’t really think so, right, but they’re not half bad actually! Now, I don’t know about their lineup this semester but…”
Koushi hardly caught the rest of what he said—he was too busy trying to stop his brain from tripping over its own thoughts. Surprise, excitement, some lingering, vague anxiety: all went through his head at the same time.
He didn’t even know yet if Asahi was even going to be playing—or if he was going to be there at all. He tried, and failed, to not get ahead of himself at the thought of seeing his friend again so soon. Before, he hadn’t dared to even think about how long it would be before they would see each other; he had hoped that would make it easier to get over it. But now—so soon!
“So?” The captain’s voice yanked him back to earth suddenly. “Are you coming?”
Koushi nodded slowly. It felt like he was watching himself answer, like he was running on autopilot.
“I am,” he said. For better or worse.
Saturday, June 22.
The day of the match, they all took the train to Tokyo together. There was excited chatter all the way there, and Koushi gladly chimed in: It felt like ages since the last time he had played in a game, and trips to the capital never seemed to cease to thrill him for some reason. And then, of course, there was also the possible prospect—the hope? fear?—of seeing his friend there.
Just the night before, Koushi had tried, in vain, to come up with some kind of plan or mental strategy: something fail-safe to avoid disappointment in case he doesn’t show up, and avoid potential detriment to their friendship in case he does. The end result he arrived at had been that the surest approach was to try and block out the problem altogether. It felt more like capitulation than anything, really, but it couldn’t be helped. It wouldn’t have to change anything, this match, if he didn’t want it to. If he didn’t make it change anything.
As they reached Shinjuku station and made their way to the gym, Koushi could feel his heart starting to pound harder. He told himself it was his anticipation for the match building up in him. It had to be; anything else would contradict his strategy.
The area around Bunka’s campus was bustling, even on a Saturday. Sendai could feel busy, too, of course, but still—it never felt like this to Koushi. He imagined Asahi as one of the thousands of people walking around the city, and for a second, his body felt like he was falling off skyscrapers. Before he could stop himself, he was wondering how long it might take until the city would lay claim to his friend completely, until he would find those new things he said he wanted to start, and leave the rest behind for good.
Thankfully, his teammates’ calls were there to tear him away from his thoughts before he could get any further.
“This is it,” they were saying, and sure enough: They were standing right in front of the college gym. Almost automatically, Koushi’s head spun around looking for the opposing team. But the captain cut his search short.
“The others are probably inside already,” he said to the whole team, though Koushi wondered if he hadn’t noticed he was obviously on the lookout for someone.
The captain checked his phone. “In fact,” he gestured for them to follow him, “we’re kinda late so we should probably hurry inside, too.”
He held the door open for everyone as they trotted into the building.
“My friend’s a bit of a stiff with this stuff, you know,” he whispered to Koushi as he walked through the door.
“He might kill me,” he said, a look of pretend-panic on his face, and Koushi laughed.
The team changed quickly and hurried onto the court to meet their opponents.
“You’re late, asshole!”
Koushi saw their captain first, scowling darkly at his friend, but then lighting up a second later as he goes in to hug him.
Tohoku’s captain did his best to deliver an earnest apology without breaking into laughter, while the rest of both teams came together to greet each other. Most of them seemed to know each other, Koushi noticed as he watched them.
Maybe there’s no new players on their team, then.
Asahi, at any rate, was nowhere to be seen, he had to note.
Careful not to seem too preoccupied, he now made his way over to the huddle of people gathered on the court, too, to introduce himself. Also, to try and distract himself from the heavy feeling of disappointment nestling in his chest.
Not that it made any sense to be so upset about it—he’d never had any reason to be sure he’d be here in the first place. But try as he did to focus on the game ahead instead, he couldn’t quite stop his thoughts from circling back to Asahi every time.
Around him, both teams were getting ready to line up. He could see there was irritated chatter among their opponents, though he couldn’t make out what it was about. He turned around to not seem too nosy, and noticed the sound of hurried steps from outside, sports shoes squeaking on the hallway floor. He was the first to see him stumble into the gym.
It was Asahi, a little flushed, his hair a little messed up from running, flashing a conciliatory smile at his teammates. He hurried over to them, muttering apologies, almost tripping over his own feet halfway there, when he noticed Koushi standing on the court.
He stopped and stood right in front of him, eyes widened, visibly—and understandably—surprised. Koushi felt a surge of joy still ebbing in his body, but he suddenly felt bad about not telling Asahi he would be playing that day. He’d known he was on Tohoku’s team, yes, and presumably he’d known they would be their opponents. But he hadn’t said a word about this match—neither of them had.
Koushi didn’t know what to do but wave clumsily at his friend, “Hi, Asahi!”
A broad smile spread across Asahi’s surprised face, and Koushi could put some of his worries to rest. “Koushi! You’re—“
Bunka’s captain shouting his name from across the gym cut him off brutally. Koushi looked back and forth between his friend and his captain, and his own team, then gestured for Asahi to join the others, so no one would get into any trouble. Asahi hesitated for a second before running over to join his teammates. He darted Koushi an affected glance that looked like he was trying to tell him something, and Koushi understood; they could talk later.
Much of the game that followed felt like a dream to Koushi, in more than one way. Although he felt a little beside himself somehow, he played better, surer, than ever before with them. He showed his team they could trust him, and they did, and he showed them over and over again. He felt like he was floating on the court, but in the best possible way.
The match seemed to go on forever this way, and yet by the end, it felt like no time had passed at all.
After the third set, Tohoku finished the game as winners. Koushi grinned proudly at his teammates as they all huddled together, cheering and yowling and high-fiving.
In the midst of it all, Koushi risked a glance over at the other side of the net, looking for his friend. When he met Asahi’s gaze, it wasn’t disappointment that he found on his face; it was an exhausted smile, filled with nothing but warmth and pride. Koushi felt like he might explode.
The teams lined up at the net and thanked each other for the game, before they broke the line of politeness again to discuss dinner plans and what to do after. When they went to get changed, Koushi was the first hurrying out.
He met Asahi again in the gymnasium foyer, leaning against a wall and already waiting for him. Koushi grinned and waved at him as he jogged over. They hugged and greeted each other properly this time, Asahi congratulated him and Koushi brushed it off. Then walked out of the gym building together.
Koushi wasn’t sure what to say to him; he wanted to apologize to him, for not mentioning the match before, but he didn’t know if he wanted to be apologized to. Maybe it was best to not say anything.
“Do you have somewhere to be?” Asahi asked, tearing through his reflections. He turned to look at him, eyes big, and shook his head.
“Not really.”
“Do you want to walk for a bit?”
Koushi nodded and smiled softly.
They walked around the campus for a while, mostly in silence. When they did talk, it was about banalities—how long it took Koushi and his team to get to the city, which faculty was in which of the buildings they passed, why Asahi had been so late to the match. The sun was beginning to set, and the city air finally started to cool down slightly. Koushi let Asahi lead the way as he looked around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings; he couldn’t help but wonder if to Asahi they seemed familiar already.
“Um, Asahi, where are we going, by the way?” he joked, poking his elbow into his friend’s side.
Asahi smiled in return. “I have somewhere I want to show you.”
Koushi raised his eyebrows. He tried to not show it to clearly, but something about that declaration excited him.
“You know, I haven’t really navigated the city yet…” There was a touch of embarrassment in Asahi’s voice now, Koushi thought. He felt compelled to make a teasing remark about his friend getting lost on his first day, and they both laughed about it.
“But yeah, I mean, it’s understandable,” he added, gesturing vaguely to the city around them and smiling empathically, to try and remedy any harshness Asahi might have heard in his comment.
Asahi only shrugged his shoulders, and pointed to someplace ahead and to the left of them as they walked on.
“But anyway, over there—”
What they had wandered into was a small park just off the college campus, rich and green and refreshingly different from so much of the rest of the city. Koushi noticed that, somehow, it felt a lot quieter here than it had just two streets further down.
“This is the place,” Asahi almost whispered as they turned a corner.
And there it was. The thought that had gotten Koushi so eager to see this “somewhere” of his, the feeling that had driven Asahi to want to share it with him in the first place, the reality of the place in front of them—they all coincided the moment Koushi saw it; maybe they were all one and the same thing, in a way.
“I found it sometime last month,” Asahi mumbled, turning around to his friend to try and gauge his reaction.
“I don’t know,” he went on hesitantly, “it kinda reminds me of—”
Koushi nodded. “It feels like home,” he cut him off. “A little bit.”
A bright smile spread across Asahi’s face, filled with the joy of being understood, being known. “That’s what I thought, too.”
Koushi took another look around; though he couldn’t put his finger on why, this little nook of the park—with its soft grass, closed off from the rest by tall trees, and laid out around a single, sturdy willow tree in the middle—did undeniably remind him of their hometown. He felt some inexplicable closeness to the place, and he could see right away why Asahi liked to come here—even more than the rest of the park had, this place felt calming, and comforting. It reminded him of Asahi, too, that way.
Because it felt wrong to just walk on, and because their feet had grown a bit tired, the two of them settled down in the grass under the tree. Asahi sat with his back to the bark, Koushi lying down on the ground next to him. Consciously or not, he made sure to leave a generous amount of space between himself and his friend’s legs.
“How are the other guys? Have you been seeing them?”
Koushi couldn’t resist making a cheap joke about how no, he wasn’t seeing any of their old teammates; Asahi rolled his eyes but laughed anyways; then Koushi told him what there was to tell: about how Karasuno was doing well even without them—maybe a little too well, how Daichi really seemed to be enjoying himself in the academy, how Hinata and Kageyama had come to visit him on campus last month.
Asahi listened intently—so much of this he never would have gotten just via text.
“What about you?” Koushi asked him afterwards, though he regretted it as soon as he did.
“What about me?”
“Have you been seeing anyone? Here in Tokyo.” He did his best to sound casual about it, although in reality the thought of it pierced quite deep into his chest.
Asahi blinked at him. Where was this coming from?
“I—uh, no?”
“Ah,” Koushi nodded and shrugged, trying his best to be unreadable.
“It’s barely been three months, Koushi.” He almost looked like he was frowning.
“Well, it’s been three months,” Koushi retorted quietly. Now he really did regret asking. Maybe these months without Asahi had only felt this long to him, he realized.
For what felt like several minutes neither of them said anything more, until finally Asahi cleared his throat to speak again.
“Koushi?” he asked, bracing his hands against the grass.
Koushi turned his head to look up at him.
“Why didn’t you tell me about today? That you were playing?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, really, but there was a wrinkle between his eyebrows that made Koushi feel guilty anyway. “You knew the match was going to be against us, right?”
Koushi propped himself up on his elbows and squinted at his friend. “I did know, yeah.”
There was a moment of silence as he tried to come up with more of an answer.
“But you didn’t say anything, either.”
It was deflection, he knew, and maybe it wasn’t entirely fair, but: Koushi had felt something else stirring him, too, besides his own regrets—something bristling against this implication that he had been the only one who could have said something. After all, they’d both known, hadn’t they?
“Hmm.” Asahi scratched his head, then flashed a smile that was half understanding, and half his own embarrassment. “You’re right.”
Koushi wanted to hate that smile—he wanted to be able to be mad at him, maybe that would make it all easier. But he couldn’t deny he was grateful to see it; it made him smile, too, like muscle memory.
“Still—I wish I’d known,” he mumbled softly. “From you, I mean.”
Koushi cocked his head a little, sitting up now, ending up a little closer to him than before.
“So I could’ve been better prepared.”
Something in his tone made Koushi laugh a little now. Asahi hadn’t quite outgrown his sulking habit yet, it seemed, and it made him feel like they were right back in high school.
“Oh, you mean so you could have beat me!” he joked, hitting his friend’s thigh, and not gingerly at that. “Are you so surprised I won against you?”
He was trying to tease a certain reaction out of him, play up these roles he imagined them in, the invincible ace and the underestimated setter, get him flustered over his supposed ego.
But between the two of them, Koushi had been the only one surprised.
“I’m not actually.” Asahi closed his eyes for a moment as he took in the evening breeze blowing through the trees around them. There seemed to be so much less of this in the city, he had noticed. “I already knew I couldn’t win against you.”
When he turned his face toward Koushi again, Asahi didn’t look flustered—he only looked calm, and kind, if a bit earnest.
Hard to tell—for Koushi and for Asahi himself—why exactly he felt the way he did. Was it because he knew better than anyone just how strong his friend could really be on the court—too strong for him to beat? Or was it something else, too, was it the dull, unshakable fear of seeing those closest to you defeated?
Was it the feeling that no matter the outcome of the match, he would lose either way?
Koushi could have thought about all of it until he strained himself, but in that moment, he didn’t want to spend any more time thinking—it would only lead to more hurt, he suspected. What he wanted was to sit there and hope that time would stop, so it could be like this, all the time, and he wouldn’t have to go back to anywhere where Asahi wasn’t sitting next to him, so close next to him he could almost feel him, with nothing but them and the cooling air and the gentle silence between them.
When he looked over at his friend, Koushi felt the same way again as he did that night when he had walked him home, and that morning when he had said goodbye to him. Only this time, he noticed, it hurt him a little less. He wondered why that was.
“Hey, Asahi?” He didn’t know where this voice of his was coming from all of a sudden; it definitely didn’t feel like he was the one controlling it.
Asahi’s head whipped around and their eyes met instantly. To see them up close like this, wide and warm like nothing else he had ever seen, was almost enough to make Koushi’s face flush.
“What if I had something else I never told you about?”
Asahi’s eyes were unwavering.
“Would you want to know?” It couldn’t be wise to be so cryptic, Koushi chided himself. Directness had never been his strength; too afraid to offend, to not have an out in case things got risky. But there wasn’t any going back now, he had to admit to himself. Even if he had it in him to turn back from here, with the way his heart was going haywire in his chest, he was afraid it could be loud enough for Asahi to hear, to give him away without any further words.
Asahi was looking at his friend with a bit of concern in his eyes, but with something else, too—something Koushi couldn’t interpret.
Right there and then, it felt rather stupid to think how much he had torn himself apart before trying to pinpoint the right moment to tell him; there was never going to be one, was the truth of it.
Still—
“Asahi, I’m in love with you.” The words came out quickly and not quite clearly, but the emphasis on them made the ground under them shift all the same. And now that they were out in the world like this, Koushi could do nothing but wait.
He couldn’t see because he had, almost reflexively, closed his eyes tightly as the words had spilled out of his mouth—but if he could, he would have recognized the sentiment in his eyes now; there could have been no mistaking it. His eyes were wide, and full. His left hand moved to reach over to Koushi, but then halted the second he saw him open his eyes again.
Then, finally, he spoke to release him from his waiting.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” His voice sounded heavy.
A funny question, Koushi thought—it had seemed to him that there had been a thousand reasons, but at the same time he couldn’t really say why, at the end of the day.
“I don’t know,” he attempted, “I didn’t know if you’d want to know.”
Koushi thought he could feel himself starting to shake, and he hoped it wasn’t too visible. He didn’t know what kind of a response he’d been expecting—he’d hardly let himself expect anything much, really, hadn’t felt he’d be entitled to it—but he was growing more unsure with every passing second. He turned his eyes to the ground now, looking for something to focus on that wasn’t Asahi’s eyes.
Next to him, Asahi’s face broke into a sort of pained, incredulous smile.
“Koushi, I was waiting for you to tell me.”
Now Koushi was the one left perplexed. For a moment, he wondered if he could have misheard. But no—Asahi had spoken clearly. Koushi’s head whipped back around again in an instant, their faces ending up closer together than before.
“You—Then why—?” His brain was going faster than his mouth, but it didn’t matter anyway—Asahi was faster yet. He closed what little distance was left between the two of them, and kissed him.
Koushi had no time at all to react—and he was grateful for it. It might have been rushed, and maybe a little clumsy, but it didn’t feel like they were clashing; it felt like they were coming to the logical outcome of everything that had been building up between them in the last three years—only neither of them could quite believe it yet.
“But then—why didn’t you tell me?” Koushi was still stumbling over his words a little. “Wait, did you know?”
He didn’t necessarily intend for it to do so, but he could tell the panic in his voice made Asahi feel a bit guilty. Although he had been the one to initiate it, he looked like he was just as surprised by their kiss, eyes flickering from Koushi to the ground to his hands, and back to Koushi.
“I—I don’t know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.” And it was clear he meant it.
Even if he had tried to, Koushi couldn’t have been mad at that. It was something he understood, after all—maybe better than anyone else could. He wasn’t sure how to express this understanding to him with words, but he took Asahi’s hand in his own and hoped, in silence, that he would get it.
He looked into his eyes again to find that, like his own, they were a little misty. They sat like this for a moment, both cracking a smile at the same time, with Koushi’s turning, by habit, into a grin almost bright enough to blind. And although it was blinding, Asahi held on to every second of that grin; he knew he would miss it the second he left again. If only—
“I wanted to ask,” he started abruptly. He could see Koushi’s body straighten, just the tiniest bit.
“Are you leaving tonight? Your team, I mean—are you going back tonight?”
Koushi shook his head softly. “Tomorrow morning.”
Something in Asahi lifted a little.
“Our captain organized a place for us to stay the night, apparently,” he went on, “I’m not sure where but—”
“Would you—You could stay at my place, too,” Asahi cut him off, his words a bit hurried. “If you want to?”
Koushi didn’t have to think long for his answer this time—in no world could he have seen himself just going back to the rest of his teammates now, saying goodbye again so soon. And he knew they were only buying themselves a few hours, really, but still—he never could’ve forgiven himself if he let this night end any sooner than it had to.
He put all of his feeling and all of his conviction into a nod, and Asahi saw it, and he smiled.
Around them, the summer breeze was picking up, and dusk slowly settled in; the air felt like relief. They could both feel it clearly now: The night would be over soon enough—but it wouldn’t be an end.