Archive of Our Own ^beta

Time is fickle. It moves forward, and yet the way one experiences it varies. Some will say it goes by too quickly, and others say it crawls by too slow.

As the day progresses, a clock turns its hands on its face with every passing second. We watch time go by through calendars, by the changing seasons, by birthdays and holidays. 

To say Kita was fascinated by time wouldn’t be entirely correct. Rather, he found solace in the idea that things come and go — that time forever moves forward and brings new circumstances to live through. 

That isn’t to say that Kita never experienced the little stuff in life; he built birdhouses with his siblings, weeded the garden, fed the horses they had in the stables, and avoided gifts left by the Faeries. He’d look for Phoenixes and unicorns in the woods outside his home and Thunderbirds in the sky when storms formed.

He lived among many magical creatures, big and small, on the one acre of land that his home was located. It was the way of his world. But as there are beautiful things around, there is room for caution and wariness.

His grandmother warned him always to leave any out-of-place trinkets where they were found; the Fae were rightfully proud creatures, and Kita wouldn’t want to be in debt or anger them. 

“Your grandfather once took a seashell from this garden. He came in to show me, and it was the most wonderful shade of purple I’d ever seen.” Kita’s grandmother was kneeling in the small vegetable garden, tugging out the recently grown weeds.

Kita tilted his head, pausing his weeding to listen to her, “Do you still have it?”

She shook her head, smiling as she clapped her hands together to get the dirt off. “No, I don’t. It was from the Fae, and eventually, they saw his acceptance of their gift as a debt to pay off; many things went missing in our home. So I buried it back where it was first found. Once you take something from them, you may as well owe them something even more precious than any old seashell.”

Kita plucked out a small weed, “They sound scary.”

“Oh no,” She laughed softly. “They aren’t scary. But you must respect them. Never thank them, and be careful. Like any creature in our world, they have customs and rules. It’s best to leave them be.”

And leave them be he did. One of many lessons he’d learn in life.

Kita, now age ten, is hitting a growth spurt. He was always known for being a short kid, and he relishes the bit of new height he has been given. Days are still simple, but Kita likes them like that. He, unlike his siblings, loves the simplicity and magic of his home near the woods. They both had left the little house for their aunt’s, which was in the city, and Kita stayed back. How could he leave behind the place he loves so dearly?

It feels emptier without them there, of course, but Kita always writes to his siblings when things get lonely. Time spent there is quieter now that the two are gone.

But there has been a recent disturbance to that. 

His grandmother hands him a basket of homemade bread and a bowl of tangerines from the market, which Kita takes right away. It’s definitely on the heavier side, but he’s capable of holding it up without too much of a hassle.

It’s earlier in the morning, just after breakfast was made and cleaned up.

“What’s this for?” He questions, following her waddling steps through the small kitchen with an unwavering gaze.

“For the family that just moved in, not too far down the road. Didn’t I tell you about that yesterday?”

“No,” Kita shakes his head. “But I don’t mind.” That earns him a firm pat on the cheek.

“We’ll clean the house after our visit.” And that’s all Kita needs to hear.

The walk down the dirt road is a slow, albeit tranquil, one. The birds sing, and the bugs hum in the tall grass, a typical thing to experience in the country. Kita sees the house as they draw closer, and before he knows it, he is being encouraged to knock on the door.

It opens with a creak, and a woman blinks down at them. Upon first glance, Kita notices her ginger hair is long and twisted into two twin braids with sun-bleached strands scattered throughout.

“Oh! Ya both must be the ones who live not too far from us.” Kita enjoys the sound of her voice; it’s heavy with the accent of those who reside in their part of town but warm despite the harsh pronunciations it holds.

Kita nods, holding up the basket he is carrying, “These are from us.” 

His grandmother pats his back. “Welcome to our little side of the town; it’s been ages since we’ve had any newcomers. I’m Kita Yumie, and this is my grandson, Kita Shinsuke.”

“Well, c’mon in! Bring that sweet lil’ basket of yers inside, will ya?” She grins and opens the door more to let the pair of them in. Kita looks around the entryway in curiosity. Already, it has taken on a homey appearance despite its unfinished state. There are boxes not too far away from where he stood. As he slips off his shoes and hands off the basket, he spots some other pairs that are similar in size to his own. Are there children here?

“Ah, I have two sons if ya’d like to meet them, they should be—” The woman motions towards the back area of the house, or at least, that’s what he’s guessing is the back. “Somewhere over there. Also, let me let ya in on a lil’ something.” She leans down with a mischievous smile, her hand covering the side of her mouth, “They’re both stinkers, don’t let ‘em get to ya.”

Kita nodded once again, appreciating the heads-up. “Okay. Um,” He paused. Was he told her name? He doesn’t think so.

The woman laughs. “Just call me Mama Miya, yeah?” She ruffles his hair, and he’s sent off with a nod from his grandmother. He walks forward, reaching up to rearrange the messy hair.

Kita isn’t a nervous kid at all — he finds no reason to be in the first place, but there is a degree of uncertainty one feels when meeting somebody new, especially if there’s a possibility that they are the same age.

But his grandmother counted on him to be well-behaved and that he’d be. He badly itched to be back in their vegetable garden, or even the forest to feed wet oats to the birds at the creek. 

“Who’re you?” A face pops into Kita’s vision: a boy who looks a little younger than he is. But then another boy with the same features appears as well, leaving him confused. He looks back and forth between the two of them, searching for any little difference he could find, so he’s sure he doesn’t mix them both up in the future.

“Ya can’t just jump at him, Atsumu.” The one on the left sounds irritated. The one on the right huffs, rolling his eyes.

“I was just askin’ his name, stupid.” They glared at each other right in front of Kita. Was this a sibling thing? A twin thing?

“You’re twins.” Kita blinks one more time. “I’m Kita Shinsuke.” He bends his head down as a hello, seeing the two look at him curiously when he raises it back up.

“Well, Kita-kun. I’m Atsumu, an’ this annoyin’ lug here is Osamu. He’s my brother.” Atsumu jabs his thumb at himself, and then Osamu. 

“Yer the annoyin’ one here, just to get the story straight,” Osamu (he assumes) said. And as soon as Atsumu opens his mouth again, the two are tugging at each other’s shirts, grumbling child profanity. They are definitely something, he thinks.

“It’s nice to meet ya both,” he tries.

They pause right in the middle of their fight, staring at him with wide eyes. They even look embarrassed, which Kita thinks is a little funny.

“We’ve got chickens,” Atsumu offers, letting go of his brother. Osamu does the same, straightening out the wrinkles with a scowl. “If ya want to see ‘em.”

Kita nods right away. “I’d like that.”

Kita is up earlier than usual on a chillier day, a sign that the fall season is just around the corner. While tended to for the most part now that the harvest season is over, the garden still has some stragglers on the stems and in the ground.

Making calls on how much longer to let the vegetables sit was a risky one around this time of year, as many animals and creatures sought whatever food they could find. That included the Kita household. 

Shinsuke had formed agreements with the surrounding birds; it wasn't easy, as crows don’t really give up so easily. But after coaxing them with oats and other treats, they eventually left their gardens alone. Occasionally, they brought back different knick-knacks. Crows were just as bright as any living thing, Kita had learned. Sure, he’s found many scavenging in their garbage, too, but when you’re hungry, that probably didn’t sound too bad to a crow. 

But he’s left confused at the lack of them. Kita frowns up at the trees as he’s unhooking the latch to the gate.

And then there’s incoherent yelling starting to get closer, startling him. “What is that?” He doesn’t recognize it as any wildlife, so Kita shuts the gate again and starts to walk towards the sound cautiously.

He spots something getting closer in his view, shielding his eyes and squinting into the distance. “Is that—?”

He couldn’t say that he expected one of the Miya twins to be the cause of all the ruckus. The boy is barreling down the outside of the woods carrying a stick. Chasing something, or maybe catching? It’s hard to tell with all of that movement.

Another thing he isn’t expecting to see is a fox bolting into his yard, and as soon as the kid catches sight of Kita, he is waving at him frantically. “Don’t just STAND there — help me catch the stupid thing!”

 Kita can only chase after the boy, scrambling on his feet. “Wait a second, what did the fox do?” He calls out. What was he going to do to that fox?

“The wretched thing tried to get at one of our chickens! My favorite one, too!”

“Which one are you?”

“ATSUMU!” 

So, it was Atsumu. Kita should’ve known by the way he had clambered over and caused all that commotion. “Well, Atsumu. Leave the fox be!” Kita grabs onto the back of Atsumu’s shirt and tugs hard. And, of course, an action so forceful knocks him off his feet, and the two of them fall forward into the dirt.

With a small groan of pain, Kita watches as the red-furred animal scrambles away from them; it’s quick and disappears right into the trees. He’s glad it was able to get away, even if it had caused him some trouble.

“Ow…” Kita then remembers that Atsumu is right next to him; the boy cradles his leg to his body, brushing off the dirt that clung to his skin. He doesn’t look entirely happy at the situation, and that is confirmed with the two brown eyes glare that back at him. “I could’ve gotten that fox! Why’d ya hafta scare it?” 

Kita shuffles into a sitting position, dusting off his own dirt. “I couldn’t just let ya hurt it. Ya had a stick,” Kita motions at the now-broken stick on the ground. “Even if it were after yer chickens, just scaring it off would’ve been enough.”

But now Kita is done with this. He stopped Atsumu, and now he can go back and finish picking through what was leftover in the gardens. He bows his head slightly and waves to the younger boy. “Goodbye, Atsumu. Say hi to your brother fer me.” He turns on his heel to walk back.

Not even a minute later, he hears footsteps dragging on the ground behind him. 

And Kita has an idea. He looks over his shoulder and smiles. “Want to come help me gather vegetables? I could use a hand.”

Atsumu doesn’t need to be asked twice. He nods quickly, and off they go leaving the fox behind and forgotten.

He isn’t entirely sure why he invites Atsumu into the garden with him. Still, it proves to be a good decision on his part because as soon as Kita hands the basket he uses for the vegetables, Atsumu is focused on not dropping it.

The sun is starting to rise now as it’s no longer early morning at this point. Kita tugs off smaller-sized tomatoes from their stems, passing them one by one to Atsumu, who takes them and carefully places them into the basket. 

“Are your chickens okay?” Kita asks suddenly, leaving Atsumu stunned for a second. He hopes they are; it was always a sad thing to lose livestock. That meant a loss in food and sales.

“Er, yeah. I think so? I left Samu with ‘em while I chased after the fox.” He scratches the back of his head, his smile lopsided. “I should probably check in on them after we finish here, huh?”

Kita nods, moving on to the next section. “I think that’s a good idea.” Oh, a big one that he missed. He tugs at it and gives it to Atsumu. “Do yer chickens like tomatoes?” 

“I think most chickens do, but yeah. How come?” 

“I was thinkin’ I could bring some over for ’em, a little something to make up for the fox?” Kita honestly just wants to meet them; he hasn’t ever owned chickens since his grandmother saw no need to when they could buy eggs from other people at the market.

Atsumu smiles. “Yeah!” He looks away. “Er, yeah. I think that’d be okay. We haven’t given them any scraps today— I don’t think.”

“Perfect.” 

And they stay quiet after that: he ends up finishing his gathering for the rest of the day, while Atsumu is content with just being there to help out. Kita finds good company in him. He supposes that maybe it isn’t awful to have somebody else there as he works.

He motions to his house, getting the rambunctious boy to follow. “We can just set that onto the counter — Oba-san will put it away once she’s ready.”  Atsumu gives a thumbs-up in response.

Once they’re inside, Kita and Atsumu are greeted with the smell of bread baking in the oven. He inhales the homely scent and feels himself grow content. “We got the rest of the tomatoes and daikon.” He calls out.

“We?” His grandmother is putting away dishes, which she pauses from to look his way. She smiles at the sight of Atsumu and beckons them to come over. “Ah, Atsumu-kun! What a pleasant surprise. Thank you for helping Shin-chan out; he never lets me help him out once he’s out there.” She gives Kita the stink-eye, and Atsumu tries not to laugh.

“You already do so much, ya know—” Kita mumbles. He is only looking out for her, really. She really does a lot; the least Kita can do is help out as much as he can. “And I’m old enough to take care of some things now.”

“Ah, yes, yes. Atsumu-kun, would you come over more and help? It’d make me feel a bit better about it.” She rests her hand on her cheek, sighing.

“Of course! I can help out; I don’t mind. But I need to take care of our animals first; ya know how my ‘ma will get if I don’t finish my chores.” 

“You tell her that I’ll send ya back with some milk bread whenever I happen to make it, just so I can borrow ya every now and then.”

“Deal.” Atsumu practically looks like he’s salivating at the idea of it. “But I’ll only tell ma, or ‘Samu’ll try and come over all the time.”

She hums, taking a washcloth to wipe down the rest of the flour that she hadn’t managed to scrape up. “I wouldn’t mind the company. Shin-chan, why don’t you bring some of the tomatoes over to Atsumu-kun’s?” 

She had read his mind. Kita gladly took a few of the red vegetables into his hands. “I was actually about to ask ya if I could.” He looks back at Atsumu expectantly. “C’mon, let’s go.”

The chickens are more than happy to peck at the tomatoes. Atsumu shows him how to keep the treats spread around so there wouldn’t be too much squabbling between the hens and points out the rooster they also had that stood nearby watching the two.

“Make sure ta stay away from that one; he’s protective of his girls.” Atsumu whispers.

Kita tilts his head to the side. “What does he think I’m going to do?”

“I dunno,” He shrugs. “Maybe kill ‘em, or steal ‘em. Roosters are weird.” 

“Tsumu, are you leavin’ the rooster alone?” Kita sees the other twin from the door, offers a small wave, and then Osamu comes over to them.

Atsumu grumbles. “Yeah, o’course.”

Kita may not be able to tell them apart by looks alone yet, but the way they speak and carry themselves is definitely the biggest way to figure out who is who. Osamu is a lot quieter and self-restrained, if you can even call him that. And Atsumu, like he showed this morning by the fox chase, is more impulsive and loud.

And, of course, put them together, and it is chaos.

They’re arguing about the rooster, and Kita couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. Maybe he could get used to having these two around.

By the time Kita is 14, he’s spent more and more of his days outside. He’s tending to their gardens and helping the creatures that happen to venture into them.

He’s met many different beings, from pixies to trickster kitsune. Kita has never realized just the countless things live and walk among the same earth as he does, and he finds it all incredible. 

But he watches from a distance, opting to be safer than sorry. He says hello to the trees in the morning, leaves offerings whenever something bad happens to his home or the surrounding vegetation.

All in all, he lives peacefully alongside them, as his grandmother always tells him to.

“There’s always someone watching you, Kita.” She says softly, stroking the top of his head as they sit in front of the fireplace inside. He notices the flames flicker, hears the wood hiss and shift from the heat.

Through the years, he watches as the twins grow up with him, seen the newer houses built near his, befriended the newcomers whenever there was any. From Suna Rintarou, the quiet and sneaky boy who lived further up and closer to the Miya household, to Aran Ojiro, the first one to move, a foreign boy who had a moral compass that matched Kita’s.

“Minus the coldness.” Atsumu would always say.

And every time he did, he’d receive a whack on the head from his brother.

They like Aran just as much as Kita, judging by the way that they take up nicknames inspired by his name. Their lack of shame is really what put the finishing touch on it.

Kita quite appreciates how things are now. He likes going to school, his classes, and coming back home to find that the house is no longer as empty as it used to be when he was younger. He’d return to his grandmother cleaning the kitchen and see that Osamu was wiping down the counters. Atsumu would be drying the dishes and putting them into the cupboards, with Suna eating their fruit in the corner. And, of course, it wouldn’t be complete if Aran wasn’t bringing in wood to stock the fireplace.

He’d greet them, thank them for helping, and then jump right into scrubbing the floors.

It was after all this was done, that he was excused by his grandmother to go outside and do something other than stay inside for the rest of the day. There was laughter, and smiles, and jokes that would go on and on. Kita and Aran would stop them all from taking things too far, as it had become their place in the group. Eventually, it would get late, and their days would come to a close — until they repeated it the very next day.

Kita is sent out one early morning — his grandmother shooing him out of the house as soon as he walked out of his room, leaving him no time to even respond. He stares over his shoulder, feeling slightly estranged. She’s never told him to leave before, and that fact alone is weird.

“Kita-san!” A familiar, smug voice greets him. Kita turns his head to see that it is indeed Atsumu who is running up to him.

He dips his head in greeting. “Atsumu, you’re here early.”

“That’s because we have something to do — just follow me!” He grins.

“I don’t remember planning anything?”

Atsumu waves his hand dismissively. “Kita-san, just trust me on this one. We need to stay busy today.” And that’s when Kita realizes why he was kicked out so quickly and why Atsumu is leading him down the dirt road he knows so well.

It is Kita’s birthday today; they must be planning something. He smiles to himself. They are kind to want to surprise him this year, although they hadn’t done the best at hiding that so far. He wonders why they all chose Atsumu to be in charge of distracting him because Kita had already gotten tipped off by the first little conversation he had with him. Atsumu isn’t all that good at holding up a lie.

“Kita-san, are ya okay?” Atsumu glances over at him curiously.

He nods, offering a small smile. “Mm.” He’d let them have their fun.

Following Atsumu and his idea of what is a distraction ends up not being so bad; the boys visit the corner store. It’s owned by an older relative of one of the kids in their area, Ginjima’s uncle. He gives them both a piece of taffy before they see their way out. Kita makes sure to say thank you, as well as remind Atsumu to do the same.

“Ya always need to say thank ya to adults, Atsumu.” He says gently.

Atsumu bites the inside of his cheek. “I don’t forget on purpose.”

“I know. Yer a very grateful person; just try to remember that giving thanks is how ya can voice yer appreciation fer what they’ve done for ya. They’ve lived longer.”

“Ya sure are an old soul, Kita-san.” Atsumu hums. Kita takes no offense to it because it is definitely true. There is no shame in it.

“What’s next, Atsumu?” He looks up at the sky, gauging it for any signs of clouds, or possible weather changes. All he sees is a clear blue sky. A beautiful sight to see, even if it isn’t uncommon.

Atsumu rests his fists on his hips. “I thought ya’d never ask. We’re headin’ over to the wishin’ well next.”

Kita hasn’t visited it in years; the wishing well was something that kids would flock to with dreams and coins, whispering their desires to so that perhaps it would take notice and grant them. 

“Any reason we’re going there in particular?” He asks lightly. The way Atsumu looks at him makes him feel comfortable, maybe even playful.

Atsumu scratches the back of his head. “Er, no big reason. I just thought it’d be cool to go wish for luck? A good day, even.” 

And Kita laughs, a real one. He doesn’t really know why, but it feels good to laugh like this. He wipes his eye with his finger, catching his breath. Completely unaware of the starry-eyed gaze Atsumu has.

“Why would we need to do that? It’s already been great.” He pats Atsumu on the shoulder, his face resting into a pleasant expression. “Lead the way, then. Let's wish for a good day.”

“Yeah, of course, Kita-san!” Atsumu rushes ahead suddenly, and Kita chuckles to himself. He is an amusing guy and, as it shows now, inherently sensitive. Not in a bad way, but in the way that makes someone want to go wish for a good day, just to make another happy.

And Kita is happy. Even if it is a distraction, he would still be happy if it wasn’t. There’s something so easy about being with the blonde, and while not peaceful, it is fulfilling anyway.

They step up to the old, moss-covered well, their hands grasping on the edge of the wet stones as they peek over the edge. Atsumu hands him a coin, and Kita takes it. He turns it around in his hand, watching the sun’s light shine on the silver. What does he wish for? Kita has all he needs. He has a family, a very kind, somewhat strange group of friends, and a good life. He’s content with it all. But, maybe there’s one thing.

I wish we could always be like this — all of us together and happy.

And then, he flips it into the depths. No sound came after it, but Kita wasn’t expecting to hear anything. 

Atsumu tilts his head, peering up at Kita. “What’d ya wish for?” 

Kita looks right back at him, serious. “If I told you, it wouldn't come true.”

“Ah! ’m sorry, I forgot about that part!” He tugs at his hair with his hands, grumbling.

A smile tugs at his lips. “It’s perfectly alright, Atsumu.”

Atsumu finally looks up and then gasps. He then coughs in a poor attempt to cover it up. “I think it’s time we head back, right? I can walk ya home, and then, uh, I’ll be on my way. C’mon!” 

Definitely not the best person to keep it a secret, he muses.

Kita catches up with him, and they walk side by side back home. He ignores the feeling of their hands brushing against each other every so often, staring straight ahead. He feels his heart quicken against his will, but before he can even do anything about it, he’s back home; his friends greet him at the door with birthday wishes and lead him inside to see the whole house, decorated from wall to wall.

The effort they make just for him makes Kita feel grateful. He has such amazing people around him, and he doesn’t know what he’d do without them. He looks back at Atsumu, who’s looking right back with some sort of emotion he can’t recognize. Kita doesn’t have time to decipher it before he’s pulled towards the living room and plopped right next to the fireplace.

The others all sit in the empty places near to him, and his friends’ noises never cease, not even for a moment. There’s small talk between Akagi and Omimi, Ginjima and Atsumu going at it, and Osamu and Suna pay them no mind as they play a game of sticks quietly.

But of course, leave it to Aran to be the one to come back last, bringing up the end of the group with a medium-sized box in his arms. He gives Kita a nod, holding the box out for him to take. 

“What’s this about?” He raises his eyebrows, tilting the box around in his hands. The wrapping is excellent, and it looks like Suna did it. He is exceptionally good at that — a random and rather weird talent of his that Kita found out about a handful of years ago at Christmas.

“We thought it was a good year to get ya a little something.” Osamu pipes up, his game with Suna over now.

“It was all my idea,” Atsumu declares, and everybody protests.

“Yer a darn liar.” Osamu is careful to avoid swearing, as Kita’s grandmother is making her way to sit on the couch. 

“Well, whether it was yer idea or everyone else’s, I wouldn’t enjoy it any more or less.”

“Shin-chan, go ahead and open it.” His grandmother urges.

He begins to tear the paper off a strip at a time until all he has to do is pry open the folds of the box. But Kita is confused as soon as he pulls out a bag of feed. He holds it up, frowning at the others. “What do I need this for?” 

Atsumu looks like he’s having breathing problems; he’s glancing back and forth between his grandmother and Osamu until the latter groans. “Go show ‘im or whatever. But we’re comin’ with.”

“C’mon, this way Kita-san!” Atsumu is up in no time, reaching out to tug Kita up and through his own house. They’re followed into his bathroom, and he finally understands what the first gift was about.

“A chick?” He walks closer, bending down to look at the tub it’s in. There’s a small food and water dish; they look like they’re specifically made for birds this size, along with softwood shavings all around it.

The little bird is just getting its actual feathers, replacing the soft down all chicks first have. While it had been partially asleep prior to all the boys barging into the room at once, it was now active and teetering over to the dishes with loud chirps.

“I remember ya like to visit our hens every once in a while, when ya need a break from all the magical and interesting creatures around here,” Atsumu scratches the back of his head.

“One of ‘em had chicks, and we thought it’d be a good idea to give one to ya,” Osamu finishes. “Since ya like ‘em that much. She was a lot smaller than the rest, too, so that’s another reason why we chose her.”

“I organized the purchase of the things you’d need for it, Aran helped find everything.” Omimi gives him a thumbs-up, which Kita returns. He can always count on the dark-haired boy to be responsible like that.

“Thank you, guys. I love her.” He peers back inside the tub, watching as the chick was once again falling asleep.

And he really is thankful. If he can say he expected the surprise party, he can’t say he expected this gift. And what a gift it was.

“How’s it feel to be seventeen, Kita-san?” Atsumu whispers.

Kita is silent for a moment, looking around him at all the sleeping bodies spread out on the ground fondly. Time is going by faster now, it seems like. “Bittersweet,” He murmurs. 

After he was given his gift and was informed as much as possible about chick care, everyone settled back into the main rooms for dinner and red bean-filled mochi for dessert. Not soon after, everyone huddled on the living room floors for bed.

Apparently, they all had planned for an overnight stay as soon as it was suggested that Kita should have a ‘surprise birthday party.’ It is tight and small for all the teenagers there, but it is still comfortable.

Atsumu sighs, his head turning back so he’s staring at the ceiling. “I understand.”

He doesn’t know who falls asleep first, but as he grows drowsy, he hopes he is the last one to see the other before everything goes quiet.

“Thanks for helping me out, Kita. I appreciate this,” Aran is leaning over a box, catching his breath. 

He hums in acknowledgment. “It’s no issue. I know you’d do the same if it was me instead.” 

It is strange to see all of Aran’s belongings in boxes stacked up high in every room they went through. What always felt like such a cozy space now looks empty and bare. The family photos his parents had up in the hall are stashed away, along with the countless books that once lined the shelves in the living room.

Aran chuckles. “Yeah, I suppose I would, huh?” 

Kita had been the first one out of all their friends to find out that Aran was moving, but only because he had intentionally come to his house to talk about it. He was glad that Aran could trust him with something like that, and he listened quietly as he threw table scraps onto the ground for his chicken, Shi-chan, now older and fully grown.

But when Aran told everyone else, the reactions were very different. Kita had been silent and extended a few words of comfort and reassurance, but Atsumu, Suna, and Ginjima had been quite the opposite. They weren’t the happiest to hear about this news.

“Is Atsumu still mad at ya?” Kita is walking side by side with Aran, transporting their boxes to the moving van.

Aran purses his lips. “I don’t know. Maybe? He stopped dropping off the eggs, Osamu has been coming instead,”

Kita shoves the box onto the platform, turning his head to face Aran. “Really? It’s been almost a week now.” Atsumu held grudges, but when it was the last stretch of his time here, Kita thought he’d put aside the pettiness to spend the rest of it with Aran. They were really good friends, after all.

Aran sighs. “I kind of gave up. I’ll let him come to me when he’s ready, even if that’s at the last minute.”

“I could talk to him fer ya.” He offers.

Aran looks like he’s considering it. “He does listen to you...maybe, if it’s not too much of a hassle.”

Kita pats his shoulder. “It’ll work itself out, even if I happen to not do much help at all.”

The Miya’s home is quiet. Kita finds it odd; normally, their mother is in the kitchen cooking with Osamu, while Atsumu chatters up a storm as he watches. But if there is one thing he knows about this family, it’s that the house is never empty. Somebody is always home.

“Atsumu? Are you here?” Kita slips off his shoes. If it isn’t Atsumu, it would be Osamu. 

There is a crash, and Kita flinches. Definitely Atsumu. 

He makes his way through the house with little to no trouble; he knows the layout well, considering he’s been here countless times since he was a kid. He knocks on Atsumu’s door.

“Go away.” Atsumu’s voice is muffled. “Please,” He adds quickly.

Kita huffs a quiet laugh at that. “It’s just me. Can I come in?” There’s a delay in response, but it doesn’t take long for Atsumu to turn the doorknob and open it. 

Atsumu looks like a mess, his hair is smooshed and sticking up from weird angles, and his clothes are wrinkly. Kita shakes his head as he walks in.

“Kita-san, what’re ya doin’ here?” Atsumu rubs a hand over the side of his face.

“I came to talk to ya about something.”

“I feel like I’m in trouble with ya,” He laughs nervously.

“Yer not,” He assures him. He’s offered a seat on the desk chair while Atsumu sits down on his bed. He’s avoiding Kita’s eyes, holding his hands together on his lap. “But I feel like ya might have something to say.”

Atsumu bites the inside of his cheek. “And if I say I don’t?”

“I’d know yer lying.” 

Kita knows what Atsumu is feeling. He is upset, probably feeling abandoned. Aran, a constant in their lives, is moving, and it is because his family is just packing up and leaving them all. There wasn’t a reason given, but they all knew it would happen. Aran’s family wasn’t meant to always stay in the country.

Kita knew all of that; he knew that there weren’t any hard feelings; it wasn’t to purposely leave them all. It just happened in life. He could accept that. But could Atsumu?

Atsumu tightens his grip on his hands. “Why does he gotta leave?”

Kita leans back into the chair, thinking. “Maybe it’ll be better fer him.”

“Without us?” 

“Ya say that like we’re never gonna see him again.” Kita chuckles.

“We might as well not be,” He grumbles. “Movin’ to the city. That’s hours away.”

“It’s gonna happen to most of us, y’know. It’s just a part of life sometimes.” Kita points out.

Atsumu finally looks at him, but the expression isn’t pleasant. He seems irritated. “I don’t think ya get it, Kita-san. Yer always so willin’ to accept everythin’ all the time. Are ya ever...are ya ever sad?”

Kita hasn’t a clue as to what to say to this. What is there to say? Of course, he’s sad. He doesn’t want Aran to go, but what is the point in making the hurt worse by wallowing in it? 

“’m gonna miss the bastard,” Atsumu continues. “And if he’s gonna leave, ’m not gonna watch him go.”

“He wants to at least see ya before he leaves tomorrow. It’s gonna be a few months before he can even visit again,” Kita is trying to persuade him now. He told Aran he’d try, and he is keeping to his word.

“Can I have some time alone?” 

What else can he do when Atsumu is stubborn as ever? Kita sighs with a nod. He stands up to leave, his hand on the door frame. He looks over his shoulder one last time.

 “Just think about it, yeah?”

Atsumu may not have responded out loud, but the twitch of his leg is enough for Kita.

They’re all gathered on Aran’s driveway as they say their last goodbyes, minus Atsumu. There are tears, hugs, and memories remembered. Kita scolds Ginjima and Akagi for stalling him, but he’s not too stern on them.

He has to hold back the tears that threaten to fall from his eyes when Aran comes to him and brings him into a tight hug. He hugs the man just as firmly with closed eyes. It’s finally real. Aran is leaving.

“Yer gonna do alright out there.” He mutters.

“You have a lot of faith in me,” Aran’s voice is wobbling.

“I know ya fairly well.” 

They share a smile, and Kita can embrace the sorrow he feels.

“ARAN!” And as soon as Aran is about to close the door to the mover van, Atsumu is running over. Just like he knew he would. And it’s their time now to say their goodbyes.

They all wave to the van as it pulls out of the driveway, some of the boys running after it until it’s gone and out of sight. They yell, cry, and laugh together until all they can do is catch their breaths on the side of the road.

Atsumu is by his side again, panting heavily. He sniffs noisily, an unpleasant sound. “We’re gonna be okay, right?” He meets Kita’s gaze.

“Yeah,” He responds. “We will be.”

Atsumu nudges his hand with his own, and they stare down at them as Kita finally takes his hand and holds it tightly. If there is one thing that would always remain, it would be this.

He learns that Atsumu’s hands are as sturdy as he expected, and the face he saw as they walked back home is soft and warm against the tips of his fingers. He learns of how sweet words can be and just how much love can comfort.

And while they were hurt, they could confide in each other. Osamu would openly express how sappy and gross they were, but Kita couldn’t bring himself to care. He was happy again with life.

But it happens at least once every year. Somebody packs their things and leaves the town they called home, another goodbye, and another van driving away. They always run like that would make it last a little longer. After Aran, it was Omimi. Then followed Akagi, Suna, and Ginjima.

It goes on until it’s just Atsumu and Kita. Osamu was the final one to leave, and Kita watched how it tore Atsumu apart to be left behind by his brother. He’d never seen life without him, and while Kita had never grown up with his siblings the same way, he could understand how it hurt Atsumu.

He offered to leave with Astumu if he wanted to still be with his brother. Kita loves Atsumu; he’d do anything for him—even if that meant giving up the life he’d been accustomed to since he was a child. He would leave everything behind, just for more time.

And yet, Atsumu couldn’t let him.

“Ya won’t be happy,” Atsumu kisses Kita’s hands tenderly, and Kita won’t let him let go of them.

“I’m happy with ya. Ya won’t be happy without him.” Kita presses.

“I’m stayin’ here with ya, whether ya like it or not, Kita. We have all the time in the world to catch up to the asshole.” 

Kita squeezes him. “I’ll never hate it. You know that.”

“Then there ya go. We’ll prove to Osamu that we can be happier here; he’ll be jealous.”

Time goes on, and people leave. Homes are left empty until the next would come in, and Kita loves Atsumu. It speeds up quickly, no longer slow, like it felt when Kita was just a child in a garden.

They grew up, and there was just them leftover.

They would live in Kita’s childhood home with all the memories and creatures Kita had learned about. He would teach him the differences between random objects and gifts from the Fae, how to spot Thunderbirds in the sky as they danced in the rain, how to grow certain plants they could give as gifts to the water creatures who lived in the pond not too far from Atsumu’s old home. They would cry when Kita’s chicken finally passed on.

There was magic all around them, and yet sometimes the simpler things were just as magical. They were hard and beautiful.

It was a melancholic experience, watching your life, friends, and family move on without you. But at least having somebody to share it all with could make it more bearable. They would be okay. It was only a matter of time.