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Miwa Kageyama wasn’t sure how well she was doing at playing the role of overbearing family until 5 seconds ago when Oikawa Tooru started choking in front of her.
“How’s the milk bread?” She asks evenly. Her baby brother and his new boyfriend are seated across from the low table they’re situated at, a few metres across from the TV playing reruns of the most recent game. Tobio’s form jumps gracefully at the same time the real version of him scowls at the dessert he just dropped, haphazardly wiping crumbs off the table.
“It’s fine,” Tobio grunts. He picks at the mess, stark against mahogany, and Miwa knows that unless it gets cleaned up it’ll bother him for the rest of the day. She gently takes a paper towel and dusts it off.
Oikawa Tooru, on the other hand, is not looking fine. His lips are strained into an awkward smile, and he struggles to meet her gaze. She stares at him. He runs a hand through carefully cared for brown locks, and he laughs, tone high.
“It’s delicious, Kageyama-san,” he agrees. His voice doesn’t break off, and Miwa raises a plucked eyebrow, impressed. Not many people could react so smoothly to a meal that was essentially seven-eighths salt and one part bread.
“Tobio-chan, you like the milk bread?” Oikawa questions and Tobio turns to him.
“I said it’s fine.”
The brunette’s eyes narrow, and she taps her fingers impatiently against her elbow. Any second now.
“Do you mind if I try some?” Oikawa asks sweetly, and Tobio grunts again in affirmation.
Miwa watches as he pops a tiny portion of the bread into his mouth, gingerly, as if expecting it to blow up in his face, and then observes as his eyes widen.
“Oh, it’s really good!” He exclaims first and then tilts his head over so slightly in her direction in realization.
“You just ate your own,” Tobio grumbles.
“I’m glad you liked it,” Miwa says genially to Oikawa.
“I did.”
“That’s great.”
“Yes,” Oikawa says with a smile that could cut glass, “Thank you for your hospitality.”
Not too bad, she admits to herself. But she just saw the first crack, and she can be patient. She’ll wait to see it again.
“Nee-san,” Tobio says, interrupting her gla--staring contest with his boyfriend, “I’m thirsty.”
“Go make yourself some tea,” she deadpans to him, “the kettle is in the kitchen.” And then she pauses and panics to herself. She used to be able to tease Tobio about these kinds of things, but that was so long ago. Her baby brother struggles to understand tone, and she worries if she should add something so he doesn’t take it the wrong way.
She wonders if there’s a manual somewhere that Kazuyo-san forgot to get from the market one day, with a title along the lines of How to Properly Interact with your Sibling (Fool Proof).
“Okay,” he nods to her, and Miwa sends him a small smile that she hopes is encouraging. He turns to the man beside him.
“Oikawa, do you want some too?”
“Yes, please! But make sure to add-”
“Three spoons of sugar, yeah I know.”
“Don’t interrupt me, Tobio-chan! I was talking.”
“But I already know what you want.”
“That’s not the point!” Oikawa complains, and then stiffens when he notices that Miwa’s been watching them the whole time, “but thank you for your consideration Tobio-chan. It’s appreciated.”
Tobio frowns, no doubt in confusion, but he stands up and begins setting up the tea anyways.
Miwa’s apartment is small, so the kitchen isn’t far from the dining area. The apartment is just big enough for herself, and occasionally, the odd houseplant that never seems to survive past a few months. It’s a few steps from the sparse living room, decorated with a few paintings from her college friends, to the kitchen that’s suitably kept for a stress baker. Light filters in through the tiny window, creating small patterns on the hardwood flooring. The overwhelming scent of hairspray is impossible to ignore.
Tobio looks unfamiliar in her apartment, and warning bells ring off in Miwa’s head. The way he’s messing with her kettle isn’t the way she does it, as he sets out the cups after bringing out the cream. His footsteps are too loud to be comfortable.
Stop it, you need to get used to this , she chides herself. Gone are her lonely days in her bachelor’s suite, organizing as many meetings with as many people as she could to fill the emptiness settling in her bones. Looking forlornly at the dismal view past her balcony and wondering if she could ever be brave enough to make the call home. Tobio had already made the first step, and it’s only fair she returns the favour.
Oikawa is humming pleasantly to himself. Miwa peers at him again.
Miwa had known, of course, that he and Tobio were together. She had been one of the many to kickstart the end to their hopeless pining. She doesn’t think she’ll ever forget that awkward call in the middle of the night, where Tobio kept stammering about “training camps” and “Thanksgiving”, or the one following where she had to spell out what it all meant. But it was another thing altogether to open the door to see her baby brother, all grown up, and holding hands with the little brat she remembers from back in Kitagawa.
“Nee-san, there’s this really good setter,” Tobio tells her, holding her hand to get some ice cream after a long school day. She knows better than to ask him how class went, because the first thing her brother will always share with her will be team practice. Miwa is mentally counting if their parents left them enough change before they left again.
“Yeah, Tobio? What’s so special about him?”
Tobio is frowning. He’s too sullen for his own good, Miwa thinks to herself. A fly buzzes next to her ear. The sun warms her tanning skin.
“I don’t know,” he pouts, “he just is.”
Miwa laughs, “Do you admire him, Tobio?”
“Admire?” Tobio looks up at her. Miwa could tell him anything and he’d believe it. She gently prods him to the centre of the line, and Tobio waits patiently. Good. He’s such a good kid.
“It’s when you look up to someone very much. Kind of like you want to be like them.”
“Admire…”
He stays quiet as he finishes his ice cream (one scoop of vanilla, regular cone). When he’s done, he clumsily tries to wipe off the mess on his mouth. Miwa bends down, tucking in a strand of hair behind her ear and does it for him. He’ll need a bath before he plays with Kazuyo-san again. She’ll have to fit that in between her homework and talking to Mika-chan.
“I want to play with him,” Tobio tells her seriously, “but he doesn’t let me.”
Miwa smoothes out the wrinkle on his forehead and presses a soft kiss to smooth skin. Tobio wrinkles his nose, but he doesn’t back off.
“Whoever says no to playing with my little brother is missing out,” she reassures him. And that’s that.
The vision Miwa has of Oikawa is one where he was a scrawny thing louder than life. Always with that other kid that liked catching beetles, joined at the hip. She never trusted those eyes of his, always a little too knowing, constantly moving and calculating for her to be comfortable. He was chatty in a way no one in her family really was. She didn’t like the way he looked at her brother like he was a bug he wanted to squash under his muddied-running shoes. She didn’t like the way Tobio looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky.
Oikawa now looks decidedly different. Something about him rubs her the wrong way, pressed and clean, just like everything else in that damn village. He’s wearing an ironed half-sleeved dress shirt and black pants. His skin is too perfect, brown hair is too artfully tossed for it to be genuine. Miwa works in an industry that runs off of fake smiles and Oikawa Tooru could give their best a run for their money.
But, she can admit to herself, he does not look at Tobio like a bug anymore. His eyes are decidedly softer.
“Here, Nee-san,” Tobio’s murmur interrupts her musings. She looks up, a little surprised. A cup of Earl Grey sits in front of her. She distantly thanks him, and her normally deft fingers are clumsy as they pick up her drink. It runs smoothly down her throat.
“Only one teaspoon of sugar,” Tobio asks, “right?” He sounds unsure. She nods. Her eyes burn. Her brother looks at her, and she interprets this scowl for the concern she knows it is, “the tea’s hot.”
Oikawa is looking at them, head tilted in thought. He probably doesn’t believe her for a second. Miwa hates it.
“And for you, Oikawa,” Tobio sets down the second cup.
“Thank you Tobio-chan! You’re so thoughtful!” He taps Tobio’s nose, who blinks at him.
“I did what I said I’d do.”
“I know, I’m complimenting you.”
“Thanks. You too.”
“Tobio-chan, just because Mr. Refreshing told you to return a compliment doesn’t mean you do it all the time.”
“Okay.”
Oikawa huffs out a breath through his nose. Miwa wonders if he knows how terribly fond he sounds.
They settle into silence after that. It never used to bother Miwa, these silences, but she doesn’t know if that’s normal. They watch Tobio’s game, making commentary when appropriate. Tobio is staring transfixed at Oikawa’s reactions. Seven-year-old, starstruck little boy and twenty-one-year-old Olympic gold medalist blend together right in front of her to make Tobio . Miwa feels as though she’s intruding on something more personal (an intruder, in your own home?).
The match finishes soon enough leaving silence in its wake. She wishes Alisa was here, she’s always been better at dispelling that kind of tension. Hard to say no to a smile like that.
“Well, that was a great game, Tobio-chan! I’m sure Kageyama-san would agree,” Oikawa cheers brightly.
“Well done, Tobio,” She agrees with him for the first time, meaning it. Her brother nods at her.
“Thanks.”
The three of them stare at each other.
“So, Kageyama-san,” Oikawa starts, “Do you have any embarrassing pictures of Tobio-chan lying around?”
“Nee-san, wait-”
Miwa laughs. “I should have a few from before.”
She pulls out her phone, smiling softly at her background (Alisa’s hair in her latest photoshoot was absolutely gorgeous, mostly thanks to her), and opening her rather sparse folder for ‘Family’.
It should take them little time to go over them all, there are so few. Tobio waddling after Miwa in court, Tobio trying to set a small, spoiled pumpkin. Oikawa chortles heartily at the grainy one where Tobio sits on Miwa’s bed with various pink ribbons in his hair and sloppy nails.
“He was always my go-to for practice,” Miwa confesses. Tobio’s ears flush bright red.
But, it takes a lot longer than anticipated, as Oikawa goes over each one, pointing out small details she never considered (“Look Tobio-chan, even as a kid you never could look at the camera properly!” “Shut up.”) She watches, a tightness in her chest, equal parts regret and relief. Her brother’s eyes are so bright.
They reach the last photo-a pouting Tobio sowing the fields next to an enthusiastic Kazuyo. They’re both hunched over, at an awkward angle against the sun. She took this one, bored out of her mind in their little farm. Kazuyo-san’s hand rests on Tobio’s shoulder.
Tobio stills when he sees that one, and Miwa reaches out to squeeze his hand lightly. She’s worried he’ll flinch back, but he meets her eyes. Oikawa turns away for a second, claiming he needs to check his phone.
“He looks happy,” she says softly.
Tobio nods, jaw clenched. She is reminded of a cloudy day where he was dressed in all black, bearing the full weight of his grief on his shoulders. Of another day, when Tobio looked decidedly small on their front porch, watching her step away with her luggage. The Kageyama’s have always been good at leaving.
“Can you send this one to me?” Tobio asks her, and Miwa squeezes his hand again.
“Of course.”
“Can we play volleyball now?”
“I’m busy, Tobio, maybe another time.”
“We could run.”
“I just showered, I’m busy.”
“Okay.”
“Do you know, Oikawa, I was the one who showed Tobio how to cut his nails?” She asks the third party in the room, swallowing a lump down her throat.
“Really? Tobio’s hands are always so well-kept. It's because he had Kageyama-san to help him.” Oikawa winks at her. Miwa rolls her eyes.
“Let me see your hands,” she commands to her brother.
He obediently raises them out to her, and she traces over them carefully. Short, well-kept fingernails, not a single bit of skin too dry. There are rough calluses on his hands that speak of his worship to his craft, but she knows he wears them like a badge of honour. She hums approvingly.
“He’s right, your hands look good.”
“I used the moisturizer you gave me.”
“Good, let me know if you need more. I get a discount.”
“Okay.”
She smirks at him, “maybe I’ll get you to do my nails for me. You still remember how to apply the nail polish?”
Kageyama’s brows furrow. “Why do I have to do it?”
Because I want an excuse to talk to you .
“C’mon, Tobio-chan,” Oikawa drawls, “Your hair’s so boring! Maybe if you’re nice enough to your sister she’ll actually make you somewhat fashionable.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means , that I’m surprised you’ve kept your hair like that for so long when your sister’s a hairstylist,” the other man explains, his voice accusatory.
“You have no idea,” Miwa groans, “I have to agree with him Tobio, you didn’t think you’d change it in years? I’ll do it for free.”
“It doesn’t bother my playing,” Tobio defends. Oikawa and Miwa share a look He’s hopeless, isn’t he? They’re both grinning. Miwa realizes, too late, that she’s fallen right into Oikawa’s trap. She attempts to slide back into her sterner persona.
“At any rate, Tobio, you should visit more,” she scolds lightly. That was something people said to their younger siblings, right?
“I will,” Tobio agrees, letting go of their joined hands. His gaze is serious, gun-metal blue a reflection of her own.
“I’ll bring Oikawa more too,” he adds, after a moment.
“Ah, Oikawa-kun,” she repeats.
“Don’t you want to see him more?”
She knows that if she turns even the slightest, she’ll see a heavy brown gaze watching their exchange in thinly veiled interest.
“Of course,” she agrees, “I’d love to see Oikawa-kun more.”
“I’d love to see you more too, Kageyama-san."
“You’re being weird,” Tobio grumbles softly to her.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she whispers back. Oikawa’s eyebrows are raised in curiosity, but he makes no move to ask what they’re talking about. She shuffles a little further away, creating a bit of distance between both of them.
I think this is a good time for ‘that’.
“Tobio, I got you a gift,” she declares.
His head shoots up in surprise, “A gift? What for?”
“For your match. You did well.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I know, I wanted to.”
“Don’t forget to say thank you, Tobio-chan!” An annoying voice pipes in.
“I was going to! Thank you, Nee-san.”
“Don’t thank me just yet,” she warns. “You’re going to have to go and pick it up.”
At this, both boys in the room look at her blankly. She smiles weakly.
“I...forgot to pick it up from the post office.”
“So now I have to get my own gift?” Kageyama snorts. Miwa slaps his shoulder lightly.
“Don’t be such a baby, you’re an Olympic athlete! The walk isn’t that bad.”
Tobio looks like he’s about to protest, but the words die on his lips when he sees her pointed glare.
“You’re not making any sense today, Nee-san,” he complains, but he stands up again. He tugs lightly on Oikawa’s sleeve, who makes a move to get up in turn.
“Not so fast! What kind of host would we be if Oikawa-kun had to do your chores for you?”
“I want him to come with me,” Tobio purses his lips.
I didn’t expect him to disagree.
She’s scrambling for some sort of counter-attack when the person she least expects to agree with her helps out.
“I know you can’t bear to be away from me for too long, but Kageyama-san and I can make fun of your baby pictures together! Don’t worry about me,” Oikawa reassures her brother. He gently removes Tobio’s hands from himself.
“Are you sure?”
“I’ll be fine,” Oikawa confirms.
“Fine,” Tobio acquiesces, “I’ll be quick.” He nods over in her direction, and she waves. The door closes with a giddy click .
And then there were two.
“Listen, Oikawa Tooru,” she starts. Her voice is dangerously soft, and she folds her hands together calmly in front of her. “A hair straightener can reach temperatures of 450 degrees celsius.”
Oikawa gulps, “is that so?”
“It is. I have several lying around in this apartment.” The grandfather clock in her room ticks. “I’m very good at my trade.”
“I’m sure you are,” Oikawa stammers,
“Do we have an understanding?”
“Yes,” Oikawa nods rapidly. His knuckles are gripping the table, pale as a ghost.
“Good!” She relaxes, and drinks another sip of her tea, “I’m glad we understand each other so well.”
“You,” Oikawa notes, pointing directly at her, “are a very scary person.”
Miwa can’t really disagree.
“I think we started off on the wrong foot,” Oikawa says placatingly. Miwa narrows her eyes.
“I’m not one of your fangirls, You can’t fool me,” she replies curtly.
“I knew I’d get the shovel talk eventually, I just didn’t know you’d be so sneaky about it,” Oikawa snipes. His expression sobers, and then his back straightens.
There it is.
This is Oikawa Tooru without the mask and the false cheer. This is the man her brother’s been interested in for more than half of his entire life. Miwa’s fingers tighten around her cup instinctively.
“I may have not given the best impression,” he starts. “But your brother is very important to me. I hope you can see that.”
“You’ve hurt him before,” she fires back. Oikawa flinches. “How do I know you won’t do it again?”
“I have,” he admits sadly. To her annoyance, his response seems genuine. “I can’t promise I won’t do it again.”
“But I swear, I will do everything in my power to make your brother happy.”
Despite being so different, his gaze is just as unflinching as her brothers.
Don’t you see the problem here? You already do.
They stare at each other for a moment longer. Miwa wonders about trust, and what it would mean if she gave it to the person in front of her. She thinks about trust, and wonders about the vulnerability in admitting you’ve made a mistake. She slumps.
“If you hurt him…”
“If I hurt him, I’ll gladly take whatever punishment you deem fit, Kageyama-san.”
She sighs. Of course, Tobio had to fall in love with someone just as prideful and stubborn as himself. Honestly, she’d be surprised if that wasn’t the case.
“You know, I always thought he’d date a volleyball player,” she mentions.
Oikawa’s hands hover over his knee, “I used to be one.”
“But you aren’t anymore,” she points out.
He nods. “I don’t play professionally, but I still play.”
“That must mean the world to Tobio, you have no idea.”
Oikawa tilts his head. Miwa struggles to find her words. How could one begin to explain Tobio’s relationship to volleyball? Could someone else accurately describe another’s faith? She doesn’t think it’s possible.
She changes the subject, “you talk so freely to him.”
“Does it bother you?”
“No, I’ve got to say I’m a little jealous,” she says wistfully, “I hear more about Tobio from his teammates than I do from the boy himself.”
Distance will do that to you. Not physically, no, but when she chose to remove herself from volleyball she had essentially removed herself from Tobio. They were one and the same.
“I can’t even imagine that,” Oikawa muses, “I’m so close with my older sister.”
“We’ve never been chatty.”
“No, I don’t imagine you were,” Oikawa agrees. He pulls out his phone and taps away at it for a few minutes. Miwa stares into her empty cup.
Her phone buzzes steadily, and she raises a questioning glance up at him.
“I shared photos of Tobio-chan with you. There’s 506 of them.”
Miwa blinks, touched. “Thank you.” And then backtracks.
“You just...you just have a folder with that many pictures ready to share?”
“He’s my boyfriend!” Oikawa squawks, “Maybe Tobio-chan has that many photos of me!”
“I highly doubt that’s the case.”
Oikawa puts his hands on his head, “it’s not. He has more screenshots of volleyball magazines.”
“Make sure it’s his favourite issue,-”
“ Volleyball Monthly , instead of Volleyball Weekly ,” they complete together.
“Because Volleyball Monthly features more information about the routines of players.” Oikawa reiterates, as though he’s heard it a thousand times already. There’s a stupid grin on his face.
:”You really love him, huh?”
Oikawa snaps out of his reverie and nods slowly, “I do.”
“...Call me Miwa.”
“A-are you sure?”
“I don’t like repeating myself. Miwa-nee-san works too.”
Oikawa beams. “Well, in that case, Miwa-nee-san, it’s a pleasure to meet you,” he holds out his hand. Miwa shakes it--he has a firm grip. An athlete’s grip.
“And for what it’s worth, I think Tobio really values your opinion. You just have to be honest with him.”
The screaming thing in front of her is squishy. And wrinkly. And its skin is really soft. Miwa peers over the crib curiously. She wants to watch the new princess movie on the community centre TV, but Kazuyo-san said she should say hi.
When Miwa holds her hand out, the baby quiets. His eyes are blue, just like hers, and they are so serious. He curls his whole hand around her pinky finger, and Miwa is awed. If she poked at him too hard, he would break. But, she thinks, even if he broke, he probably wouldn’t cry.
She will protect him. She has only known Tobio for a few moments, but when she reaches out to hold him for the first time, she knows that she will never love anyone more than the one in her arms right now; a love so deep it rattles her bones.
“Baby brother,” she breathes out. She utters it out loud in the quiet of her living room like a promise. The room listens.
“It’s nice to meet you as well, Tooru-kun,” and her smile is decidedly less sharp.
“What are you guys talking about?” Tobio questions.He’s holding a rectangular parcel in his hand. Miwa and Oikawa are huddled together, oohing and aahing at the new photos Oikawa’s shared with her.
“Look, Tobio totally made the kids cry,” Oikawa shows her. Miwa laughs lightly.
Everything okay? Alisa texts her.
Just fine. She shoots back in between conversations.
“Nothing, nothing. Don’t worry about it!” Oikawa hides his phone behind him, and Tobio and Miwa both share identical glares at the obvious lie.
“Okay, Okay, that was a bad lie. I get it,” he raises his hands up. “What have you got there, Tobio-chan?”
“I don’t know.” Tobio carefully unwraps the parcel, setting aside the wrapping beside him and sitting down beside Oikawa, their legs brushing against each other.
Miwa waits with bated breath.
“This is...Kazuyo-san’s?” Tobio wonders, an unreadable emotion in his voice.
“It’s his old volleyball journal. Mom found it with the other stuff he left us, and she was going to throw it out. I thought you might want it.” She taps her fingers against her arm.
Tobio looks at her, blinking furiously. Miwa reaches forward and squeezes his shoulder. “It’s yours.”
“You don’t want it?”
“I read through it already.”
Tobio nods again. Tooru rubs a soothing circle on his leg and he leans in closer to the touch.
“Thank you, Miwa-nee-san,” Oikawa thanks her quietly.
Tobio looks between them, “Miwa-nee-san?”
“We bonded, Tobio-chan, bonded!” Oikawa exclaims eagerly. Miwa rolls her eyes.
“I don’t hate him anymore.”
“You hated him?” Tobio’s eyes widened, panicked.
“No, no,” she attempts to reassure him, “I was just being dramatic.”
Tobio looks unconvinced, but he doesn’t press it.
The rest of the evening runs relatively smoothly, and Miwa is sad when they say their goodbyes. Tobio promised to visit her next week, so at least she can look forward to that.
Oikawa waves at her, and promises to wait outside because “he had to make a call to a friend that he made it out alive”. Miwa takes the excuse for what it is.
She and Tobio look at each other. Even now, she’s not really sure what the best course of action should be, so she settles for an awkward half-hug.
“Nee-san,” Tobio prompts, and she hums to him. “Do you like Oikawa?”
She pauses. “He makes you happy, right?”
Tobio nods immediately.
“Then he’s fine. You talk more with him. I like that,” she tells him frankly.
Tobio smiles at her, “that’s good.”
She shoves a piece of paper into his shirt pocket, “Here, this is the recipe for the milk bread I made for today. I think your Oikawa might appreciate it.”
Tobio’s eyes shine. She sees her own reflection through them.
The Kageyamas are good at leaving, but they have never been the type to back away from a challenge.
“Just make sure you don’t tell him it’s from me, or he’ll get the wrong idea.”