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“What’s wrong mija ? I thought agedashi tofu was your favorite?” Oikawa frowned as he watched the little girl across the dinner table poke at her dinner with a fierce scowl. Marisol Oikawa had her father’s temperament when she was displeased, and she had worn that scowl since he’d picked her up from school a couple hours earlier, giving him the silent treatment ever since.
The lack of chatter wasn’t something he was unused to. She was often taciturn with him, given that she was still slow to forgive him for moving her from Japan to Argentina at the start of her first year of schooling. He’d timed his retirement from the professional volleyball circuits to be able to properly care for her in the country he’d made his home. They’d made progress in the weeks since his mother had returned home to Japan, and Mari was even fairly lively when he’d dropped her off that morning, excited because she had gym and she loved learning new sports.
But sometime in the hours she was in the care of her teachers, something had offended her to the point she refused to speak to him. He didn't think it was an issue with another student; someone would have told him if that were the case, but no one had said anything about her sudden cold shoulder either. When he'd asked how her day was, she frowned deeper and refused to look him in the eye. He hoped making her favorite meal, even though it wasn't a special occasion, would be enough to coax her into opening up, but she proved just as stubborn as he had been on his worst days at her age.
He offered a silent, apologetic thanks to his mother, and wondered how she’d done it. Not once, but twice. His sister had been even more of a terror than he’d been though, so by the time he came around, his parents had already been through the ringer. None of his tantrums could faze them.
Well, maybe that was the key. They’d had each other for support.
Marisol pushed her empty plate to the middle of the table, breaking him out of his reverie. “All done?” he teased. She glared at him. Then she excused herself and disappeared down the hall to her bedroom. Despite her continued silence, it would seem she had, at least, enjoyed the meal. He supposed it was a good sign that her anger at him did not affect her appetite. Oikawa resigned himself to finishing his plate in solitude.
He idly scrolled through parental help and advice articles on his phone, wondering if the answers to his problems could be found so simply from a cursory google search of “how do i get my 5 year old daughter to talk to me about school?” There were plenty of blogs and columns about preparing to send your child off to school for the first time and about getting older children to open up about their school experiences, but very little crossover between the two. He’d already tried some open questions to encourage her to tell him what happened before dinner, but she remained firmly clammed up.
If he had someone else try to talk to her though…
He switched over to his contacts, and after doing some quick mental math on the time difference, called the first number on his speed dial.
He picked up after the first ring. “I know you didn’t suddenly forget the time difference between us so you better have a good reason for calling me at 7am on a Tuesday, Shittykawa.”
“Eh? You mean you didn’t request a wake up call from your very handsome best friend and favorite setter and best partner who loves you very much?” He knew Hajime would be up already, going over training regimens and dietary intake charts to maximize the benefit to his players while he sipped at his coffee. Oikawa’s antics rewarded him with bright laughter, tinny from the oceans between them, and suddenly he missed Hajime a lot more than he cared to admit.
“Pretty sure I didn’t. How do I unsubscribe?”
“You can’t. The contract is for life. You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid.”
Hajime sighed at the other end of the line. Oikawa could almost see his fond eye roll. “Cut the crap, Tooru. You ok? You sound a little manic. Is Mari-chan...?”
“Mari is fine,” he assured, swallowing his frustration. “Perfectly healthy, smart as a whip, cute as a button. The perfect daughter.” The silence from the other end loomed over him. Hajime was giving him that Look, the one that said he wasn’t taking any of his shit and he had better hurry up and tell the truth before Hajime headbutted him. Oikawa knew Hajime couldn’t physically assault him through the phone, but he winced anyway and peered down the hall towards the bedrooms. He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. “I don’t know, Hajime. I think something happened at school today, but I can’t get her to tell me.”
“What makes you think that?” He sounded distant for a moment, like he was on speaker.
“Well, she seemed ok this morning. She’s still shy around me sometimes, but she seemed normal otherwise. But when I picked her up this afternoon it was like we were back to the day mom left and she didn’t want anything to do with me.” That first week without his mother there as a buffer had been a nightmare, but they’d gotten through it. “I even made her favorite, thinking it was just a bad day, but she barely looked at me all through dinner.”
“Fatherhood not what you expected?” Hajime teased, voice muffled as he got dressed for work.
“I don’t know how to fix this,” he whined. “She might talk to you though. She definitely likes you more than me,” he added under his breath.
A text notification echoed through the speaker and Hajime cursed. “Already?”
“Do you have to go?” Oikawa deflated a little. He wasn’t ashamed to admit he needed Hajime right now.
“No, I’ve got time,” he said. “I’ll talk to her, but on one condition.” Oikawa wasn’t sure he liked the shift in his tone. “I know you’ve been stressing since auntie came back so I may have...sent you something to cheer you up. A surprise. You can’t get mad at me for it.” Oikawa was less sure he liked that tone.
“What did you-?”
“You’ll find out in a bit. Let me talk to my niece.”
Oikawa frowned, but he really wanted to cheer his daughter up so he let it go for the moment.
He paused in the door of her room, leaning against the frame as he took a moment to watch her rifling through the toy box in the corner. Several of her dolls were already strewn about the floor behind her, in various states of undress as she looked for new clothes to put them in. It did not slip his notice that the removed fabrics were the sports style outfits. Maybe something had happened in gym class?
He rapped his knuckles lightly against the wood. “ Mija , someone wants to say hi.” Marisol whipped her head around, dusty brown curls bouncing over her shoulders. Her eyebrows were drawn together and her lips pursed in a pout and yup she is definitely my kid , Oikawa thought as he extended the phone towards her. She narrowed her eyes at it, like she suspected a trick. “Don’t you want to talk to Iwa-jichan? I think he would very much like to start his day talking to you.”
“Tío Iwa-jichan!” Her eyes lit up at the sound of her favorite uncle’s nickname and she scrambled to her feet to take the phone from her father. “Iwa-ji! Hola! Miss you!” He could hear Hajime’s fond chuckle from the speaker as he told her he missed her too. She immediately put the call on video chat so she could show him her latest drawings. Oikawa caught sight of Hajime’s grin on the screen. His best friend subtly jerked his head to one side and Oikawa rolled his eyes behind his daughter’s head, sticking his tongue out over her shoulder as he left her chattering to her uncle in a haphazard blend of Japanese and Spanish. He trusted Hajime to coax the story out of her so he could form a battle plan.
He picked up their dinner mess, sliding their dishes into the sink to soak for a minute while he wiped down the stove and table. Mari’s voice drifted down the hall, light and giggling, as he scrubbed the dishes in the soapy water. His heart lifted on the sound even as his shoulders sagged. He was glad she was feeling better, but he wanted to be able to make her laugh like that again. He hoped Hajime was able to learn what had upset her.
He put the last of the plates on the drying rack and slung the dish towel over his shoulder. He was about to head back up to Marisol’s room to rescue Hajime so he wouldn’t be late for work when a knock came at his door. He turned his wrist to check his watch; he wasn’t expecting anyone, and it was later than any of his neighbors would typically drop by. Not that something as trivial as the hour could keep some of the more persistent older women from stopping off with a covered dish of their own leftovers or dessert for him and Marisol. They doted as much as his own mother, and he wondered how much of their frequent visits were due to her influence. She had certainly made a handful of friends among the aunties and abuelas in the building. He wouldn’t put it past her to have exchanged contact information with any of them to keep an eye on him.
And he wouldn’t really mind if that was all it was. He’d lived in Argentina for over a decade; he was more than accustomed to the hospitality. He was sure he could rely on them as much as he had relied on his own mother that first month after he had brought Marisol here. He was grateful for their offers of assistance, he really was.
He just wished they wouldn’t try to set him up with their daughters or granddaughters at every turn. (Though, his favorite firecracker auntie offered to introduce him to her grandson. He almost took her up on that just to get the others off his back.) He was sure they were all as lovely as their matriarchs, and he was as polite as he could be when he declined the women’s offers to introduce him, but it was becoming overwhelming.
As nice as it would be to have someone to lean on at the end of the day, he didn’t have time to focus on a relationship outside of the strained one he had with his daughter.
He steeled himself as he made his way to the front door, plastering on his most charming smile even as he noted with some frustration that Marisol’s art supplies were still scattered across the coffee table. He wouldn’t scold her for not putting them away tonight. He didn’t want to further upset her.
He let out a breath as he gripped the handle. Leftovers or dessert?
When he opened the door, there was no kindly neighbor with a covered dish or a baked good on his doorstep. Instead of a stooped grey-haired woman, there was a solid man, a flash of orange, and a beaming smile Oikawa hadn’t seen in person since Paris.
Oikawa blinked. “Shouyou?” He blinked again. The ginger was still there. His eyes were working just fine.
“Long time no see, Grand King,” he saluted with two fingers and a wink.
He knew his mouth was agape but he couldn’t help it. “What are you doing here?” His voice cracked in his shock.
Shouyou chuckled. “Iwaizumi said you could use a break. I’m on a break.” He shrugged as if to say that was all perfectly clear. As if him flying to Argentina on a whim was the logical conclusion to their apparent mutual dilemmas.
Oikawa raised a finger and opened his mouth to retort, to ask for more information, to demand an actual explanation, but a small voice behind him stopped the words in his throat. “Papa?” Shouyou’s eyebrows rose almost comically as he peered around Oikawa into the apartment.
Marisol stood in the living room, one hand clutching her stuffed hedgehog, Zumi, the other still holding his phone with Hajime softly encouraging her that everything was fine.
“Oh,” Shouyou sighed. Then, softer and with a chuckle, “That explains a lot.”
Oikawa remembered himself and stepped inside, making room for Shouyou to follow. “Sorry, I think it goes without saying but I was not expecting company,” he laughed at the absurdity of the situation. He was going to throttle Hajime through the phone. “But please, come in. You must be hungry. We had agedashi tofu for dinner but there are leftovers.”
“Sounds perfect.”
“C’mon mija , let’s go get you ready for bed.” Marisol looked between her father and the stranger skeptically, but let herself be ushered back down the hall to her room. Oikawa took his phone back from her while they put her toys away. “You sent Shouyou to visit?”
Hajime’s delighted laughter filled the room. “It’ll be good for you,” he insisted. “No getting mad at me, remember.”
“I don’t actually remember agreeing to that,” Oikawa huffed. “I’ve got to get Marisol to bed. We are not done with this conversation.”
“Scary.” He could hear the shit-eating grin in Hajime’s voice. “I promise it will be ok. Just trust me, yeah?”
“Say goodnight to Iwa-jichan,” he said to Mari instead. She whispered a sheepish “g’nite ” before Oikawa hung up. She changed into her pajamas with little fuss. He combed her hair while she brushed her teeth. She was remarkably obedient and Oikawa couldn’t help but wonder what Hajime had said to her.
As he tucked her into bed though, he thought maybe it wasn’t anything her uncle had done, but what he was doing. “Papa? Who is that man?” she whispered.
It wasn’t until she spoke that he realized how tense he was, when he saw how his unease was affecting her. He forced his shoulders to relax and he brushed her hair from her face with a smile. “He’s a friend from home. I haven’t seen him in a while, so I was surprised.”
“Is he going to stay here?”
“For tonight at least. We’ll have to see after that.” He had no idea how long Shouyou’s “break” was or what he and Hajime had schemed, but he wasn’t cruel enough to kick an old friend to the curb just because he’d dropped in on short notice.
Mari continued to frown. Oikawa wanted to kiss away the crease between her brows but he recognized her thinking face. “Does this mean we’re not going shopping tomorrow?”
Oikawa chuckled and leaned forward to kiss her forehead. “Of course we’re going,” he said. She was growing out of clothes faster than he could put them on her, and besides he loved taking her out to dress her up. “I promised, didn’t I?” She still looked skeptical. A promise from a father who had been frequently absent for her early years didn’t hold much weight, despite his efforts to hold to every promise he made her since. “Tell you what. If you go to sleep now, after we go shopping, we’ll get gelato for dinner.”
That seemed to do the trick, and she nestled deeper into her blankets, as if that would bring sleep on faster. “Night, Papa.”
“Night, baby girl.” He kissed her one more time for good measure. “Love you.”
She yawned. “Love you too.”
A lump rose in Oikawa’s throat but he swallowed it down. He wasn’t about to cry in front of his daughter just because she told him she loved him. He certainly was not about to face his old rival with tears in his eyes.
He hovered in the hallway, bracing himself for the inevitable questions awaiting him in the kitchen. It wasn’t like he had anything to hide, he had no regrets about the choices that led him to raising his daughter alone in his new country, but he couldn’t help feeling the slightest bit guilty about the sparse communication he’d had with Shouyou the last few years. He wondered what sort of expression he would find on the other man’s face. Confusion? Disgust? Disappointment?
He didn’t believe Shouyou would be disgusted in him, not before he heard the whole story anyway, but he didn’t know if he could handle seeing disappointment on that always-smiling face.
When he finally urged himself forward and returned to the kitchen, he knew his fears were unfounded. Shouyou was sitting at the table, idly scrolling or texting on his phone, looking for all the world like he was at home. He looked up when Oikawa entered and smiled, wide and beaming.
For a moment, Oikawa was taken back to a simpler time, a similar scene in a Brazilian apartment after a spontaneous reunion that had changed both their lives. Not drastically, by any means, but they had found something they needed in each other that week that neither had really been aware they were missing. For a few years after that, they’d found their way back to one another often. They were practically neighbors, after all.
“So. Papa , huh?”
He’d stopped seeking Shouyou out after Sofia told him she was pregnant, though. “I guess I owe you an explanation, huh.” Oikawa felt his lips twitch up in pride. He really loved his daughter.
Shouyou’s smile softened, became teasing and understanding all at once. “I’ll admit I’m curious, but you don’t owe me anything Tooru.”
Oikawa hummed noncommittally as he pulled the leftovers out of the fridge. “Well I did offer you food after you came all this way, so at least let me reheat this for you.” He hoped his face hadn’t flushed. He was used to being called by his given name after so long in a country that used them freely, but it still did funny things to his heart when anyone from home used it.
Especially the man currently sitting at his kitchen table.
Thankfully, Shouyou didn’t argue. Oikawa knew he usually carried plenty of snacks when he traveled, but he still had an athlete’s appetite and must be hungry after his flight. He racked his brain to remember where Shouyou had been last, to determine where he’d flown in from, but with Marisol’s drop in mood he hadn’t been paying as much attention to social media as he usually did.
Despite Shouyou’s insistence he didn’t need an explanation, Oikawa told him the story anyway. How it had happened during the Tokyo Olympics after the volleyball medals had been determined. How it had been in celebration of Argentina’s bronze medal that he’d hooked up with a tennis player from his new home country. How a broken condom, an ineffective morning after pill, and a faulty IUD had led to him becoming a father far earlier in his life than he’d ever expected. How between their PR teams, they managed to keep the entire scandal under wraps, and the public was never the wiser.
“That little girl was going to be born one way or another,” he sighed, fondly. A statistical unlikelihood in the shape of a beautiful baby girl with tan skin and big chocolate eyes so like his own he wondered how he had never considered the possibility before. When Sofia said she had no desire to keep her, Oikawa had called his mother. “I know it was probably selfish of me,” he told Shouyou, “but I didn’t want Marisol to be in the public eye from the moment of her birth. And her mother didn’t want anyone to know either, so we worked out that mom and Nee-san would take care of her until I retired. I went back to Japan as often as I could, but it really wasn’t enough.”
“I thought it was weird that you retired so early,” Shouyou admitted around his last mouthful of tofu, pushing the plate towards the middle of the table. “Didn’t think you ever would, honestly.”
“You and Iwa-chan, both,” Oikawa laughed, thinking about the declaration Hajime had made after their final high school volleyball loss. He leaned his chin in his palm as he pondered on all his achievements and medals since then. Once upon a time he thought he wouldn’t give those up for anything. “Me too, I guess. I never imagined my priorities could change. I’ll admit it hasn’t been easy, but since when does anything worth having in this life come easy or without sacrifice?”
“Is that why he thinks you need a break?” Shouyou folded his arms on the table and leaned over them, open and curious, and not deterred in the least regarding the secret Oikawa had kept from him all these years.
“Probably,” he snorted. “He still tries to mother me even from an entire ocean away. As if I can’t take care of myself.”
Shouyou’s lips quirked as he smothered a laugh. They’d had that conversation many times over the years. “I’m sure he doesn’t think you can’t handle it,” he said instead. “Everyone can use a helping hand from time to time.”
“I’m sure you didn’t sign up for a vacation of babysitting when Iwa-chan said you should come visit me,” Oikawa countered with a frown. “As much as I would love to take you out on the town like old times, I can’t. Marisol has school. I’ve got clinics during the day. I really don’t know what he was thinking,” he sighed, running a hand through his hair.
Shouyou waved his in the space between them and shook his head, soft smile unwavering in the light of all the revelations of the past half hour. “It’s fine.”
“He really didn’t even warn you?”
“He said you could use a ‘low-key’ break from your stressful retirement.” His expression turned thoughtful. “Was particularly insistent on the low-key part. That we maybe just stay in and be domestic in our old age.” He flashed a cheeky smirk.
Oikawa barked a laugh before clamping a hand over his mouth and leaning back in his chair to listen for movement down the hall. When he determined he hadn’t inadvertently woken Mari up, he turned back to the enigmatic ginger in his kitchen. “And you were just cool with that?”
Shouyou shrugged. “Wouldn’t have been the first time.”
Again Oikawa was transported back in time to a different apartment, in Argentina that week, after he had pulled something in his shoulder and was banished from the court for a few days of rest. It happened to coincide with a holiday anyway, so he turned it into an extended break. Shouyou had already been scheduled to visit so he came a few days early. They whiled away those days between his apartment and the city, cooking meals together or ordering takeout and sharing the various foods between them, sleeping in till noon and watching terrible movies all day or reading in silence, wandering the shops and playing at tourist. He remembered thinking how domestic it had all felt, a glimpse into a life that didn’t quite fit his dreams of playing volleyball forever, a life he hadn’t known he could want.
He wasn’t sure if he wanted to thank Hajime for remembering that particular confession or murder him for telling the other man, however indirectly.
Aloud, he said, “I can’t ask that of you.”
Amber eyes scrutinized him, pinning him in place as Shouyou thought hard about his next words. “If you really don’t want me here, I’ll go.” Oikawa opened his mouth to protest, to assure him that wasn’t it and he really was grateful to see him, but Shouyou halted him with a raised palm. “I know that’s not what you meant, but I understand the position we’ve put you in and I don’t want to impose on you. But I mean it when I say I really don’t mind it. You, having other responsibilities, I mean.” He leaned his chin into his open palm, regarding Oikawa with a look the older man couldn’t quite place. Something tender and warm. “I’ve wanted to see you, and if it’s all the same to you, I’d like to help out.”
Oikawa was far too old for butterflies to be fluttering in his stomach. I’ve wanted to see you. He told himself it was just relief at the offer of help and not the gentle declaration that had him out of sorts. He wouldn’t entertain the thought of more. Shouyou wasn’t something he could keep. He was a ray of sun in a familiar room, briefly pouring into cupped hands, bright and intangible and ephemeral as the world continued to spin, leaving dancing dust motes and a memory of warmth in its wake as it passed. He had always been meant to fly, and Oikawa would not dream of clipping his wings even in his own foolish fantasies.
“How long are you in town for?” Oikawa asked. He would be grateful for whatever small time they had together, just like always.
“I don’t have to be back until the end of the month,” he said. Almost two whole weeks. Plenty of time and yet not enough time at all.
They spent the rest of the evening catching up. Oikawa asked about his recent tournaments. Shouyou asked how retirement was treating him. They talked about friends, old and new, and Oikawa spent no small amount of time gushing about his daughter. Before either of them realized, the clock was striking midnight and they found themselves in a small standoff.
“I would be a terrible host if I made my guest sleep on the couch. Just take my bed.”
“Tooru neither of us are sleeping on the couch,” Shouyou chuckled quietly. “I spied that hammock on the balcony and as guest I am calling dibs.” There was no talking Shouyou out of something once he’d made his mind up, so Oikawa was forced to concede.
As he stared at his ceiling some time later, rolling the night’s events over in his restless mind, he wondered why they didn’t just share the bed. It wouldn’t have been the first time.
The smell of something warm and sweet awoke him early the next morning before his alarm went off, although the vision it conjured in his mind’s eye paled in comparison to the sight he encountered when he actually made his way into his kitchen. Shouyou stood at the stove in baggy shorts and a wide-sleeved tank top, his vibrant hair sticking up all on one side from where he’d slept on it. His foot tapped a bouncy rhythm as he serenaded his tiny supervisor with an unfamiliar Brazilian pop song and flipped a small cake in the pan to wide-eyed applause.
Oikawa leaned one shoulder against the opening and fought against the lump that rose in his throat as he watched his daughter bubbling with laughter as Shouyou made faces at her. She was perched on the counter cradling a bowl of fresh berries, a few of which she dropped into the batter as he poured a fresh cake in the pan. She giggled as he wiped a dollop of pancake mix on her nose and her face was so radiant in Shouyou’s presence that Oikawa dared to wish the man would never leave.
“What’s this?” Oikawa cooed, interrupting the saccharine scene. “My guest is cooking breakfast?”
The pair at the stove flinched and, in the case of the accused, turned a guilty grin towards him. Mari seemed torn between guilt and defiance, her brows pinched and her nose scrunched up like she was preparing for a scolding, but Shouyou distracted her with a put-upon sigh. “Looks like we’ve been found out Mari-chan.”
Oikawa watched with fascination as her face softened, a flower opening towards the sun, and she nodded. Shouyou had that effect on people. “Sho-tío said pancakes taste better when they’re shaped like animals. We wanted to surprise you.”
He stifled a chuckle at her mingling of Spanish titles as Japanese honorifics. “Well this is a nice surprise,” he admitted, joining them and kissing her forehead. “Smells delicious.” He almost turned to plant a kiss on Shouyou’s cheek too, but caught himself just in time. He hoped Shouyou hadn’t noticed. The twitch of the other man’s lips gave him away though.
Oikawa did not think he could survive two weeks of this.
After breakfast, he helped Marisol get dressed for school while Shouyou insisted he would pack her lunch. Oikawa brushed her hair into a high ponytail and listened intently as she told him all about the things they had just talked about over their cookie cutter pancakes. Did he know that Sho-tío lived in Brazil even though he grew up in Japan? He was just like Papa! His pancakes were better than Papa’s though, but that was probably because Papa didn’t know to make them into animals and could they have them again tomorrow?
Shouyou joined them as they walked to school, letting Mari tell him all about her favorite class (art) and her best friend (Elena) and the dog she loves that she sees at the park all the time (Paco) and can they go tonight Papa? Wait no tonight we have to go shopping, Papa promised. And then when they get home she’ll show Sho-tío her room and all her toys and her drawings.
They waved her goodbye at the school drop off, her dark curls bouncing behind her as she ran to meet her classmates. She was quickly surrounded by half a dozen other five- and six-year olds clamoring for her attention and whisking her off into the building with teasing laughter.
“She sure takes after her Papa,” Shouyou mused as they made their way to the training center where Oikawa spent his days teaching and training the younger generation of players.
“She’s only that talkative with other people,” Oikawa sighed. “When it’s just us, well,” he shrugged. “Some days are better than others. Yesterday you caught us on a bad day.” He still needed to call Hajime back and find out what he’d learned, but as he fell into a modified routine with Shouyou at his side, it slipped his mind.
As promised, after school, Oikawa took Marisol shopping for new clothes. She took charge of Shouyou, tugging him along through the shops, giggling when he oohed and aahed at the different outfits she tried on. Oikawa put her in at least a dozen blouses of every color of the rainbow, with cute little leggings or shorts or skirts to match. He found an adorable yellow sundress speckled with a pattern of red flowers that she was skeptical of until Shouyou laid the applause on thick as she modeled the outfit for them.
By the end of the mini fashion show, she seemed a lot happier than she’d been only 24 hours prior. She even pressed her cheek into his leg, wrapping her arms around it as he paid for her new wardrobe. “Can we get gelato now, Papa? I’m hungry.”
“I did say we could do that, didn’t I?” He rewarded her patience for the shopping with the sweet treat for dinner.
“You guys have ice cream for dinner?” Shouyou exclaimed dramatically. “Well now I’m never going home!” He winked at Oikawa over Mari’s shrieking giggles. The older man felt that stirring in the pit of his stomach again, the one that made him feel like a giddy teenager all over again at the idea of his feelings still being returned.
How many years had they been dancing around each other, comets burning across the sky, tails spiraling together, never colliding but always in step? Sure, Oikawa had stepped down, had been pulled into the orbit of a new star, while Shouyou continued to blaze a path ahead, but that didn’t mean that path would never bring him back.
Over the next few days, Shouyou slotted into their life seamlessly, as if he had simply been away on a long trip and was finally home. He rose before either of the home’s long-term residents, and by the time Oikawa and Mari rolled out of bed, there would be a delicious spread on the table. They did not have pancakes every day, but there was always fresh fruit and some manner of protein. Wednesdays were Oikawa’s grocery day, since he only had one clinic in the morning, and Shouyou offered to go with him. On Thursday he stayed at home, promising he would just be relaxing, while Oikawa was at CeNARD. But when Oikawa brought Mari home, they’d found all their laundry had been done and dinner was simmering on the stove. Oikawa couldn’t bring himself to scold Shouyou for his generosity, and allowed himself to indulge in the domesticity of it all instead, ignoring Hajime’s voice in the back of his head murmuring “told you so.”
Meals were livelier, Marisol engaging more about her school life and telling them all about the things they learned in math and science, regaling them with tales of playground antics and what she was looking forward to that day. The more excited she was about something, or the more tired she grew towards the end of the day, the more she blended Japanese and Spanish. By Friday night she was asking for Sho-tío to help Papa tuck her in, and also could they go to the park tomorrow?
Saturdays were for sleeping in, and Oikawa banned Shouyou from the kitchen. He had cooked breakfast all week, and while Oikawa was grateful, he didn’t actually want the other man cooking for them his entire stay. Marisol had requested pancakes again though, so when he got up a little after 8, he pulled the cookie cutters back out to make them in animal shapes. Despite being banned from the kitchen, Shouyou did not actually stay out. He sat on the counter, just like Marisol had earlier in the week, and critiqued Oikawa’s methods the entire time. He tossed a blueberry into his mouth with a sly grin when Oikawa swatted him for a particularly unnecessary jibe, kicking his heels against the cabinets.
“Which one of us has a kid here and which is the kid?” Oikawa rolled his eyes with far too much fondness to sting.
“Hey, I have a kid sister. I have years of experience with this sort of thing.”
Oikawa snorted. “Nacchan is an Olympic athlete in her own right, she is not a kid anymore.”
“She’ll always be a kid to me,” Shouyou shrugged.
“How tall is she again?” This time Shouyou reached out to smack him.
Marisol ambled into the kitchen then, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and muttering a greeting in Japanese. Shouyou jumped down from the counter and scooped her up into his arms, greeting her back in Portugeuse. Her nose scrunched as she registered the words that were vaguely familiar but not quite right to her ear. He tapped her nose with his finger, making her giggle, then pointed towards the stove and informed her, in Spanish this time, that he was teaching Papa how to make proper animal pancakes.
Oikawa couldn’t even be mad at the blatant disrespect because the sight of Shouyou holding his daughter on his hip, her blanket still wrapped around her waist and Zumi in the hand that wasn’t clutching Shouyou’s neck, filled him with so much warmth he wasn’t sure what he was feeling, but it was far removed from anger or disappointment.
After breakfast, which Mari gave two thumbs up, they headed to the park. She was excited to wear her new sundress, and accessorized with her favorite pink cross-body bag that matched her favorite pink sandals. She asked Oikawa for a few biscuits in case they saw Paco. Shouyou also had a bag, and when Oikawa raised an eyebrow in question the other man returned a scheming grin.
The park was a ten minute walk from the apartment, and it was late enough in the morning that the early joggers had gone but the lunchtime picnic crowd hadn’t quite filled in the empty spaces. There were plenty of folks out, walking their dogs and playing sports in the open areas, and Mari took off when she spotted Luz and Paco, tugging her little bag to her stomach in her haste to pull out the treats for the spunky spaniel.
“So what do you wanna do now, mija ?” Oikawa asked once Luz and Paco bid them farewell.
“I have an idea,” Shouyou piped up before she could answer. He dropped his backpack to the ground, the mischievous cant to his mouth pulling Mari in, wide-eyed in awe. When he unzipped the bag and pulled out a familiar blue and yellow ball, her mouth pinched and her hands balled into fists at her sides. She scowled at him from the side and Oikawa began to understand. Shouyou did not seem to pick up on the tension Marisol was emanating, though. Or he was strategically ignoring it. He tilted his head to the side and regarded her seriously. “Do you not want to play?”
“I hate volleyball,” she shouted at the ground between them.
“Why’s that?”
“Because!” Her eyes flickered up to her father then back down to the ground.
“Hmm. That’s ok I guess,” he said. “But I don’t think you actually hate volleyball. Your Uncle Iwa told me you got to play in gym this week.” Oikawa peeled his eyes off his daughter to gape at Shouyou. Hajime had told him? “Didn’t you have fun?”
She shook her head. “No! I hate volleyball! I hate it!”
“Mari, it’s ok we don’t have to play.” Oikawa crouched next to her and frowned at Shouyou.
“Volleyball is dumb!” she continued to cry. “Papa loves volleyball more than me. I hate it!”
Oikawa pulled his hand off her shoulder, recoiling as if he had been slapped.
“What makes you think that?” Shouyou asked, his voice gentle and soft, encouraging her to work through her feelings.
She turned her glower on him, as if she thought he was stupid. “He still plays volleyball every day!”
“That’s his job though, isn’t it?”
“Well, yeah, but,” she faltered, her anger softening the tiniest bit.
Shouyou smiled. “Has he ever missed picking you up from school?”
“No…”
“Does he play volleyball instead of making you dinner or taking you shopping or reading you a bedtime story?”
Her shoulders loosened as her eyes looked towards Oikawa again. “No.”
“What do you say, Papa? Who do you love more?”
Oikawa opened his arms as Marisol rushed into his chest. “Oh preciosa , there is nothing in this world I love more than you.” He pressed a kiss to her crown and cradled her against his chest with a hand covering her back as she clung to him and sobbed. He caught Shouyou’s smile over her head and thought of how far they’d come since Rio. On that sandy beach under a balmy night sky, Shouyou reminded him that volleyball is a sport where you connect. It was a lesson just as important off the court. He’d spent so long wondering how to get Mari to open up to him, he forgot the fundamentals. He promised himself he would start now.
When she cried herself out, he pulled back and brushed the tears from her cheeks with his thumb. “I am so sorry I ever let you doubt. Volleyball has been my life for so long, I don’t know how to do much else. But I love being your Papa even more than I love playing volleyball. I would never pick up a volleyball again if it came down to it.”
“And that would be a real shame,” Shouyou sighed, injecting some levity. “Your Papa is the coolest and I love hitting his sets.” He dropped his voice low, getting conspiratorial as he leaned in to add, “He’s the Grand King, after all.”
Mari’s eyes widened up at her father in awe. “King?”
“ Grand King,” Shouyou amended. Oikawa rolled his eyes. “What do you think? Wanna see just how cool he is?”
Mari did, and so they showed her. They spent the rest of the morning teaching her the basics. How to toss, how to pass. Oikawa’s fingers tingled with every ball she sent his way, something electric in his veins igniting simply by being able to share his favorite sport with his favorite person.
She clapped in glee when Shouyou leapt for a ball he’d set high, flying to slam it into the grass before following after it with an ecstatic whoop.
Oikawa’s heart danced in his chest.
Favorite people.
He could admit to himself that he cared for Shouyou more than as just a friend, and he was grateful their paths could intertwine again, however briefly. He always seemed to show up when Oikawa needed him most. He didn’t know where their paths would take them in the future, but he hoped they could walk together again.
When their stomachs rumbled that it was time for lunch, they left the park in search of a tasty meal. Marisol shrieked with joy as they swung her between them, and when he caught amber eyes twinkling at him with familiar fondness, he thought maybe this path was one Shouyou wanted too.