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Kentarou is a force—intimidating and devastating, even when weakened down to the coals. He’s the rock that Shigeru hadn’t expected to need; the iron beams that lay flat below a house, a gravity that keeps things stuck—reliable and never unsure.
But here, in morning light and silk sheets, he’s made of stained glass—sacred and otherworldly under Shigeru’s hands.
Contrary to most people’s knee-jerk descriptors of Kentarou, Shigeru would list very pretty as number four. Especially now, living in restful sleep with his nose tucked into his pillow and his arms curled to his chest. He’s sleeping shirtless like he always does, and the sheets are slipping off his bare shoulders and Shigeru has never seen a man, sleeping for godsakes, and thought, reverential . It may help that Kentarou is roped with years of hard-earned muscle, which Shigeru surely reaps the benefits of.
It’s five minutes before their alarm goes off; Shigeru knows this because his circadian rhythm had caught onto their routine after the first year of living it. He doesn’t mind, not when he gets to hear Kentarou’s light breathing and see him in a peace that’s hard to replicate in full consciousness, lying in Shigeru’s bed—what’s an extra five minutes compared to this?
Shigeru capitalizes on it and scoots into Kentarou’s space to slowly pull the limp arms from his chest and insert himself. Kentarou, groggy, responds like a dream (probably thinks he’s in one, too) when he opens his arms and hugs Shigeru close to him, leaving a lazy kiss on the mess of what Shigeru’s hair definitely is.
Shigeru basks in it, wrapping an arm around Kentarou’s waist and closing his eyes to the familiar smell of him —fresh linen and soft skin on his nose. It’s a still moment, like a windless day when the trees only shake to breathe, so unmoving that it may not even be real. Shigeru quite likes moments like this.
All good things do end, Shigeru is reminded when he’s comfortable and more in love than he’s ever been, and their alarm blares over somewhere on Kentarou’s nightstand and shakes the walls along with it.
Shigeru sighs before Kentarou rolls over, one arm still fastened around Shigeru’s shoulder and blindly taps at the bedside table until the static returns to his ears. Kentarou, ever the cuddler, turns back over to squeeze him tighter and runs a soothing hand down his back, rubbing in circles.
“Good morning,” Shigeru sighs into it, pressing his face into Kentarou’s chest and leaving small kisses along his collarbone.
Kentarou grunts in return, his hand still pressing, Shigeru’s skin erupting in goosebumps.
“We gotta get up,” Shigeru notes because if he stays in this bed for a minute longer, he might not leave at all.
Kentarou pulls back and blinks through sleepy eyes to look at Shigeru, who probably looks equally heavy-eyed, then leaves a soft kiss on his nose.
“I know,” Kentarou murmurs, but he still sounds halfway from reality. “Big day today.”
“Very big day.” Shigeru returns the kiss but instead presses it to Kentarou’s lips, closed-mouthed and sweet.
They roll out of bed after that, albeit languidly, and Shigeru throws the covers onto the mattress without giving it a second look. Kentarou disappears into the kitchen, likely to put on coffee, and Shigeru is already halfway dressed in running shorts and a dry-fit shirt when Kentarou returns, still only in boxers.
“You running with me today?” Kentarou asks with a raised eyebrow as he changes out of his underwear.
“Is that okay?” Shigeru asks as he pulls on long, thick socks, hanging half off the bed to do it.
“Of course,” Kentarou smiles. “It’ll probably be good luck.”
Shigeru rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
Kentarou runs every morning, even on the weekends, because he’s just like that . Shigeru is an adult, twenty-five, and is aware he no longer has the metabolism he had back in university, so he attempts to keep up with himself. Not like that , though.
In a compromise, Shigeru tries to accompany Kentarou on these runs at least twice weekly. Especially today, because there’s no way Shigeru would miss out on it today.
The sky is clear and beautiful when they step outside the small door of their condominium. The sun is creeping into the sky at only six in the morning. A light breeze licks at the skin of Shigeru’s knees.
Kentarou doesn’t wear headphones when he runs, something about his equilibrium or whatever, but Shigeru definitely does—doesn’t think he’d get very far without them.
They run the same path, a five-kilometer loop in the narrow streets of Aoba-ku, Sendai, their home for the last three years. It’s everything in a life that Shigeru has wanted, albeit not exactly where he pictured he would end up, in the same cubbyhole of town he grew up in.
Though nostalgia, for Shigeru, is a well-worn fleece. He can almost see it now, running along the beaten sidewalks, the same one he and his brothers used to clamor down on bikes in the thick of boyhood. Right past Michi’s hair salon, where his mother worked when his father lost his job in the early 00s, and down the road from the small dry cleaner where Shigeru would get his tuxedos pressed in middle school. Reliving the past in a different present is a dark bruise Shigeru loves to press his thumb into.
The movement feels great; Shigeru’s lungs take in air like they’re new to breathing, his head blissfully clear. Kentarou leads up ahead, only a few meters, rigid and perfect in posture. Shigeru can tell he’s taking it easy, maybe because he’s being careful or maybe because he hates leaving Shigeru behind. Call it a crack in masculinity, but it was a bitter pill at first when Kentarou had mastered a sub 20 5k and Shigeru, who at one point had been Kentarou’s equal on the court, was just trying to adjust back into a life where homework didn’t exist.
Up against Kentarou, who had jumped into the V.League as soon as he graduated high school, there wasn’t much Shigeru could reasonably compete with–and he found, honestly, that he hadn’t even wanted to. And when they discovered love like a well-hidden gift between them, Shigeru realized he didn’t much mind being a second best, not to Kentarou.
They round the street and into the small, residential roads that line houses and condominiums, cars sporadically parked in driveways or making their way down the streets.
When they reach their front door, Shigeru’s chest is aching, and he’s wiping sweat from his forehead before it falls into his eyes. Kentarou, extremely unbothered, looks about as worn as a two-week-old pair of shoes, sporting a nice sheen on his skin that gives him a pretty glow.
“Good job, babe, twenty-seven minutes,” Kentarou breathes out while checking his watch, a small smile on his face before he reaches out a hand for Shigeru to high-five. Kentarou unlocks the front door and bulldozes into the air-conditioned apartment.
They toe off their shoes in the genken together, and Shigeru is still breathing heavily, but he feels good. The sun has touched his skin, and he’s bouncing when he walks like his body still thinks he should be moving 2kph faster.
“Do you want first shower?” Shigeru asks when they’re back in their bedroom and peeling off sticky clothes.
Kentarou stays silent for a minute before turning to Shigeru, shirtless and beautiful, to say, “Do you know what might be extra good luck?”
The preceding half hour is full of a lot of laughing, endorphin-filled kissing, slick touches that skate across arms, shoulders, legs–and a distressingly wet bathroom floor that only Shigeru seems to think is a falling hazard.
Once towels are placed on the bathroom floor to fix their mess and the cold air has had time to kiss the steamed bathroom mirrors, Shigeru throws on his school’s polo and fusses with his collar in their bedroom mirror.
By the time Shigeru looks decent, small bowls are already set on their kitchen table–miso soup with bright spring onion, pickled cabbage, and daikon, all set alongside two bowls of white rice. There’s crackling from the stove, where Kentarou stands shirtless with loose basketball shorts sagging on his hips.
“Need help?” Shigeru asks as he sidles up to Kentarou, looking down at the eggs he’s poking around with a wooden spoon beside fish fillets grilling on the rack.
Kentarou doesn’t look up at him, “Can you grab me two plates for the omelet?” He asks softly.
Shigeru reaches over to the cabinet and pulls out two large plates with lattice detail on the edges, plates they had scooped up at a cheap market three years ago. Though they had lost some to some disaster accidents, all involving slippery fingers, a whole three of them remained handsome and unharmed.
Shigeru sets the plates beside Kentarou and watches him load a fluffy, folded omelet onto one plate before pouring more mixture into the pan and flipping over the fish.
“Looks good, baby,” Shigeru hums and sets his chin atop Kentarou’s shoulder. He can feel how it moves as he prods at the food and makes a pleased noise.
“Coffee is ready for you, by the way,” Kentarou notes, leaving a chaste kiss on Shigeru's forehead without taking his eyes off the stove.
Shigeru waits a second longer before removing himself from Kentarou, fingers trailing tenderly down his arm.
He pours hot coffee into a mug, one that is white, and reads ‘#1 Captain” in bold, black lettering. It had been a Secret Santa gift in his third year from Kunimi of all people. Shigeru hadn’t kept many things from high school, but relics are relics.
Kentarou is already sipping out of his own mug as he plates the fish and slides another omelet onto the new plate. They both sit down at the table wordlessly. There’s nothing new about the spread in front of them, a nearly identical breakfast to yesterday’s and every day the week before, but it’s still so terribly special to Shigeru who has never gotten used to taking good things for granted.
They give thanks, mostly to one another, before picking up chopsticks and spoons and digging in. The first bites always elicit a pleased hum from Shigeru, slightly on the giddy side, and he does it because he enjoys celebrating tiny wonders but mostly because he knows how much Kentarou enjoys it.
“Good?” Kentarou asks as he shovels eggs into his mouth.
“Very,” Shigeru smiles, blowing on hot soup. “How are you feeling about today? Nervous?”
Kentarou takes a second to respond, chewing thoughtfully with his eyes downcast onto the spread before him.
“No,” Kentarou responds firmly. “Not nervous. I’m excited, though.”
A smile blooms on Shigeru’s face. “That’s good. I’ll be rushing in at the last minute from after-school club, but I’ll be there on time,” he reminds Kentarou for maybe the fifteenth time that week.
“Don’t stress,” Kentarou chides like he has the last dozen times. “And don’t rush either. You get there when you get there. We’ll go the full five sets, anyway.”
Kentarou is oozing a sure sort of confidence, staring lasers into the fishbones on his plate like he’s strategizing a play. It sends an anxious chill down Shigeru’s spine and a desperate kind of worry at the bottom of his gut.
It’s finally the day they’ve been waiting for all these years–and it all comes down to an evening match on a random Friday.
“I’ll be there on time,” Shigeru ignores, and it breaks Kentarou out of his thousand-mile stare, making him chuckle and giving Shigeru the fondest look one can muster before the sun is hung above the trees. Shigeru finds Kentarou’s bouncing knee and squeezes it, facial expression hardening.“I’m so proud of you.”
Kentarou smiles, staring down at his plate once again. “Tell me that after we win, okay?”
“I’ll tell you a lot of things after you win,” Shigeru smiles. Kentarou reaches over to tug gently on Shigeru’s ear, making him crack into giggles.
Kentarou cups Shigeru’s cheek before squeezing the soft skin and retreating to his chopsticks. “Do you want me to walk you to work?”
Shigeru pretends to think about it. “I think I will survive the grueling ten-minute walk without you, just this time.”
Kentarou snorts and nods his head while cracking the knuckles of his free hand, an unconscious gesture for when he’s got too much energy and nothing to do with it. “I’ll clean up.”
“You sure?”
“Mhm,” Kentarou’s eyes shift quickly to the oven clock and back to Shigeru. For a second, the gravity of today threatens to pour out of Shigeru in an anxious monologue of well-wishes, knowing once he leaves to begin his day, there’s no real way to freeze or rewind time. What will be, will be, and he’s got no say in it. Shigeru almost wants to break into hysterical laughter from the absurdity of it–worrying as if he’s the professional volleyball player at the table and then feeling frustrated at how he might feel more at ease if it was Shigeru’s future on the line instead.
But then, Kentarou gives him a quiet smile paired with unbelievably kind eyes, like he’s sharing a secret, and a silly feeling springs in Shigeru’s chest.
It’s been a long journey here, to the breakfast table with two coffee cups in between them. It had been hours of hard work, sweat, and often blood for Kentarou to get to where he is today–where he will be this evening. Big day.
The endearment hangs on his ribs like an ornament; he looks like a Christmas tree under the weight of it. All wrapped in tinsel and laced with long ribbon—Kentarou’s doing, stringing him up half a year too early, and Shigeru has half a mind to kiss the feeling out of him.
So he leans over the no man's land, right over the ceramic mugs, and pulls at the back of Kentarou’s neck so he can lay a kiss on his lips. Kentarou moves with it, a little surprised, but he falls into Shigeru, slow and soft.
When Shigeru pulls back, Kentarou is shiny-lipped and eyeing Shigeru curiously. His leg has stopped bouncing, and his hands lay atop his pants, fingers unmoving. After Shigeru takes him in, he stands up to drop his plates near the sink.
Shigeru packs his flimsy backpack, which always feels a little silly among the ten-year-olds with matching apparel, but it holds the lunches that Kentarou makes for him and the stack of graded papers just fine. When he has the straps over his shoulders and his shoes on in the hallway, he calls out to Kentarou.
Kentarou walks straight up to Shigeru and places his hands on either of his biceps before leaning in to kiss him firmly. What is usually a quick peck and short hug turns into something much more intimate, and the house, at this point, is full of something so embarrassingly adoring that no one is allowed to come over for at least 24 hours until it airs out.
Shigeru pulls back first because he’s the only one who ever does and gives Kentarou a megawatt smile.
“You’re gonna be great today,” Shigeru says quietly enough, just for them.
Kentarou beams in return. “Have a good day, okay? I’ll see you later. Text me when you can.”
Shigeru nods, a foot out the door before his brain stops him from stepping further.
“Oh wait!” He calls too loudly, with Kentarou still right behind him, and runs back into the house, into the bedroom, shoes still on his feet, and a string of muffled complaints coming from Kentarou as he does so. He shuffles through his dresser drawers before stuffing the forgotten items into his backpack and rushing back toward the door.
Kentarou gives him a disapproving look when Shigeru returns, one that Shigeru kisses off of him, two pecks on the lips and cheek, respectively.
“See you later!” Shigeru calls out as he walks backward from the front door, waving with a toothy smile and watching Kentarou’s face soften and wave back in return.
Shigeru could do the walk to school with his eyes closed, with all the years his soles have touched the same sidewalk.
Sometimes it feels like he’s back where he started, like all the progress and living a bustling four years in Tokyo made no difference now that he’s back in his small hometown. Other times, though, more often, he’s grateful to feel familiar.
When Shigeru had returned from Tokyo, age twenty-one and exhausted, he had been laboring in the job search for any open physical therapist positions in Sendai. It had come up short, and with all the new post-grad change he was already suffering from, he needed quick work and he needed it walking distance from his parent’s house. It wouldn’t halt the job search; just give him money in the interim.
He’s still in the so-called interim at twenty-five, where he started as a physical education teacher assistant at Sendai Shiritsu Kunimi Elementary. He now helps lead the physical education department on the agreement that he can teach the after-school volleyball club, his pride and joy.
And, well, then Kentarou became a permanent fixture in his life, mandated to live in the prefecture for work, and he stopped seeing his joy at Shiristu as something to climb the ladder away from and, instead, a fire to feed.
The day is a blur–too much red ink and file cabinets needed to be reorganized a week ago. They’ve been preparing for football season, setting up all the matches across other elementary schools in the ward. Volleyball ended last week–Shigeru is still mourning the loss–and they closed out an awesome season. No one technically wins or loses because the players are more or less under age nine, but his youth group definitely won.
Once they’re into the second half of the day, Shigeru starts to get antsy. He thinks of Kentarou and barely anything else. His phone lights up on his desk. Shigeru unlocks it promptly.
Kentarou [13:12]
Did you eat?
Shigeru nearly bangs his head against the table, asking himself how Kentarou could think of anyone else but himself and the game. Then again, this is Kentarou, who lives to keep Shigeru in a constant state of awe of his boyfriend. He replies.
Me [13:16]
Yes, so good, thank you. Did you? How are you feeling?
Kentarou [13:25]
Nice. Lean meats and soba. I’m good don’t worry. Love you
Shigeru sets down his phone again with no choice but to take a deep breath and believe him.
The rest of the day draws on, but once late afternoon rolls around and Shigeru knows that Kentarou just got to the center to warm up for gameplay, he feels a little like lunch is doing the salsa in his stomach.
It’s after school, and the youth team is doing drills and laughing through frog jumps. Shigeru doesn’t even have it in him to snuff out the roddiness. Truthfully, he’s on the brink of his own delirious laughter.
When the kids hit the floor for cool-down stretches, Shigeru really starts to buzz, checking the clock every couple of minutes like he’s afraid an hour will steal right from under his nose. He wraps up the day quickly, gives every kid a high-five on the way out, and well wishes for a safe walk home. Usually, Shigeru would wait outside the gym with his arms crossed, watching them round the farther corner off campus before packing his things and heading home. Today is not one of those days.
Shigeru is headed for the train 30 minutes from gametime, speed-walking to the platform with sweat already beginning to prickle at his hairline. He shoots off a quick text to Kentarou, knowing that there’s a slim chance he’ll actually get the chance to read it.
Me [16:26]
On my way now. I’m so proud of you I love you I love you you’re gonna be great
When Shigeru sits on the train, he starts to time his route. He should get there seven minutes before the game actually starts. Perfectly on time. It’ll be fine, it’s fine.
It’s only the finals for the Division II Volleyball Tournament.
It’s only the Sendai Frogs versus the Tamaden Elephants and the only Division II finals the Frogs have seen in Kentarou’s four seasons with them.
Low pressure, really.
Shigeru rushes off the train when it gets off at the center stop. He’s still hauling around a backpack like a university student, and his left sock has started to slide down his calf. He can barely be bothered by it.
It’s a quick walk to the center only because Shigeru basically runs it, and he’s got his paper ticket in hand before he’s even at the entryway. It’s a VIP section ticket, one of four, and Shigeru has been to almost every single one of Kentarou’s games in their last three years of dating, but he’s never been given a VIP section ticket. He’s never been to one of Kentarou’s games where they actually had them.
When Shigeru walks into the stadium, the hallways are nearly empty, save for a few stragglers and mothers with their children buying snack foods from the carts. The game will start any minute, and Shigeru’s heart is in his shoes, but it's also in his ears, his fingertips, and teetering on the tip of his tongue, ready to tumble out onto the linoleum with lunch.
He rushes to his section and knows exactly where he needs to be without checking the actual number on his ticket–thankful for the three faces already sitting in a clump.
Shigeru hasn’t seen Iwaizumi in four years, and it would have been longer if Iwaizumi hadn’t moved to Tokyo during Shigeru’s last semester at university. He’s been working as a physical trainer with the Japan National Team ever since, and he looks so different and even more a stranger than the boy he knew in high school. Kentarou had done a bad job hiding his delight when he discovered that Iwaizumi would make a trip down for this game. Iwaizumi had called him and told Kentarou, ‘This is big for you, Kyoutani-chan. I’d never miss it.’ Kentarou wouldn’t shut up about it for a week.
He saw Matsukawa and Hanamaki two weeks ago, only because they invite Shigeru and Kentarou on an unreasonable amount of double-date excursions. Hanamaki had told Shigeru when they first started hanging out in adulthood, ‘You’re not so bad now that you’ve experienced the world, Yahaba-kun,’ in that unserious way of his that is both an insult and a compliment. Shigeru still can’t parse out which it actually is.
They’re big smiles when they notice Shigeru. Matsukawa is already waving Shigeru over, and Shigeru makes his way through the rows of legs who have probably been sitting here for the last half hour. Shigeru feels slightly like a poser if the to-be husband of Sendai’s ace could actually be one. He nearly leans over to tell the older couple he’s scooting past that it’s a little unreasonable to have a championship game an hour after the workday ends, am I right?
“You made it!” Hanamaki beams when Shigeru reaches them and stands up to clap him on the shoulder before pulling him into a hug. “Was scared you’d get caught up.”
“Of course I did,” Shigeru huffs and takes his first deep breath since the mini marathon he performed to get over here in time. “I’d never miss this.”
“We know that,” Matsukawa smiles and cuffs him on his other shoulder, reaching over Hanamaki.
Shigeru flashes him a shy smile before turning to Iwaizumi and letting it materialize into something stupidly excited. “Iwaizumi-san, it’s so good to see you. Has Kentarou seen you yet?”
Iwaizumi gives him a warm grin before pulling Shigeru into a firm hug and slapping him on the back.
“It’s been too long. You look good, Yahaba-kun.” Iwaizumi pulls away and gives Shigeru a once-over. “So does Kyoutani-kun. I saw him for a quick second before they started warm-ups. He’s bulked up,” Iwaizumi winks kindly.
Shigeru’s cheeks warm before he looks to the court to see both teams preparing formation on their respective sides. He spots Kentarou in seconds, taking deep breaths and shaking out his hands.
“I’m so nervous,” Shigeru says aloud for the first time, without thinking and not necessarily for anyone to hear, but Iwaizumi slaps his back again.
“No need, they’ve been great this season. Odds are in Sendai’s favor.” Iwaizumi says with his full chest, like he’s seen the future and knows how this ends. Shigeru just wants to fucking believe him and maybe close his eyes for the entire game.
They take their seats as the commentators boom through the loudspeakers, filling each corner of the stadium. Shigeru quickly unzips his backpack and rustles through it before the whistle blows.
Shigeru pulls out his jersey and quickly throws it over his head, the collar of his polo peaking out at the top. He probably looks ridiculous, but he hardly cares about that now.
Sendai Frogs with the Number 13 on the front. He’s matching Kentarou from the stands.
The game starts with Sendai serving, and from the minute it begins, a nervous energy settles on the room like a heavy blanket. It’s a bigger crowd than Shigeru has ever seen at a Frogs’ game, all painted green and yellow. It’s like Sendai and their fans have been waiting for this exact moment forever and fighting to get back in the race.
This season had been a battle, and in all senses of the phrase, Sendai had been the underdogs of the Division II league for the last three years. They had been knocked out in every semi-final since Kentarou had been recruited onto the team.
Kentarou would sometimes come home and stay completely silent until bedtime, and only then would he whisper to Shigeru under the safety of their duvet and let the festering insecurities and regrets crawl into the tiny space between them. The number of times he’d doubt his choice to leave his old Tokai team, even though, at the time, they were still averaging worse than the Frogs. Or that he should have taken the Elephants’ offer he received the year prior, a decision he tied himself into knots over for days and ultimately passed up. He believed in the Frogs; he believed in himself enough to see it through.
This season, they scouted some good, fresh players. Ones that thought more like Kyoutani, married to the game as he is, and they had seen steady progress these past couple of months. Shigeru wants to say he’s not surprised to see them finally in the finals, but he’s been naive one too many times to find that statement true.
Shigeru is surprised, and so was Kentarou when they won their semi-final match, along with the rest of the division. So were the V1 teams and their recruiters, who are undoubtedly watching this game under a microscope, looking for their next season picks.
Shigeru knows Kentarou is not only being watched by Aoba Johsai alum today. He’s been with the Frogs way longer than any sensible player would.
The very real truth is that he’s grown out of V2, and he’s ready for so much more.
Sendai blows through the first set like water slipping through cupped hands, quick and slippery. The team is focused and seemingly relaxed, most of all Kentarou, who looks like he’s doing a constant string of mental math equations and getting every answer right.
Things get rocky in the second set, and Shigeru stands up for the first time, hand gripping the railing until his knuckles turn white. Tamaden has an incredible libero, and it took him an entire set to show his true colors. The Frogs lose the set but recover in the third thanks to Tsukishima Kei, who somehow got taller and scarier after puberty and started blocking like he was only teasing in the first two. Frogs take the third set; Shigeru and the rest of their side of the stands take their first deep breath.
It’s whiplash in the fourth set; the Elephants take the set win like a child who can’t stand to share, with nasty cross-shots and setter dumps that no one could have anticipated. Shigeru realizes that his pointer finger is bleeding from a hangnail he’s messing with and balls his fists instead, licking his lips.
It’s the fifth set, just like Kentarou had predicted, and he looks a little tired when he kneels to drink water near the bench, but still, he’s positively on fire.
He’s got flames licking the floor through the rubber of his shoes, and his fingers are probably leaving singes on the colored leather of the ball if anyone bothered to stop and inspect it. He’s taking labored breaths that Shigeru can only imagine taste like a metallic burn. He’s a smoke signal; Shigeru and half the stadium can’t take their eyes off him because Kyoutani Kentarou, the ace of the Sendai Frogs for too many seasons, is a man on fire, sparking under the pressure like steel against flint.
There’s a brief second when Kentarou looks up to the stands, searching, before he locks eyes with Shigeru like he’s just found his missing house keys. Shigeru, with his skewed jersey and no air in his lungs, because Kentarou has stolen all of it.
Kentarou gives him a wide smile, and Shigeru is eager to return it, nodding his head with a crooked grin as if Kentarou can hear him– ‘ This is good, you’re doing good. I’ve never been more proud.
When the fifth set officially starts, it’s a nail-biter. The Elephants aren’t privy to losing, and the Frogs are playing like a loss might actually kill them.
Kentarou has never been more of an ace in his life. He’s jumping like they started the game ten minutes ago and slamming the ball down with cannon force. Shigeru is trying not to lean over and swoon against Hanamaki.
Everyone is shouting and cheering, specifically the four of them in a row, hovering over their seats and crossing their fingers and toes. They’re far from the only ones. Shigeru can feel the stands shaking steadily under his feet.
It all moves so fast when the Elephants get a solid three-point lead on the Frogs. Shigeru is standing at full attention now, gripping the center of his shirt and breathing heavily like he’s standing alongside them, setting the ball.
Iwaizumi shouts random phrases of affirmation anytime the Frogs score, and Matsukawa keeps cracking his knuckles, even though they stopped popping an hour ago. Hanamaki is eerily silent, holding his chin and staring lasers at the center of the court. Shigeru is concerned the net might just burn and evaporate under his gaze.
It’s down to the final stretch when Sendai finally earns a two-point lead, 13-11, and Shigeru keeps standing up and sitting down like he’s doing some odd squat exercise.
Kentarou is unmoved, or he seems to be. He’s got this air around him like he knows how this would play out from the start.
Then, three things happen in a handful of seconds that span like hours. Tamaden’s number 7 serves and it’s weaker with nerves, fatigue, or both, and it travels without a real sting of power behind it. The Frogs jump on this crack in the structure like ants to crumbs, and a beautiful volley takes place, back and forth nearly seven times, heads swiveling left and right, lips being bitten, before Kanji Koganegawa sets the ball in a perfect arc to the right side of the court, where Kentarou is already running up like a mindreader, jumping, then soaring, and slams the ball straight past Tamaden’s libero, hitting the floor mere centimeters from the white line.
It’s an eruption, a forest fire, and the seating beneath them sounds like it's going to crumble under the weight of stomping and jumping–screaming so loud it could crack the rafter windows. It just might.
Shigeru is frozen–hand over mouth and tears welling up–when Kentarou gets ambushed by the entire team, disappearing under slaps and shaking hands until players start dissolving onto their knees or the sideline benches, looking close to tears. Kentarou seems to come back to reality, a smile taking up his entire face, and balls his fists to holler among the chaos. He places his laced hands on the top of his head, staring up at the ceiling like he can’t believe he’s actually here and did this.
It’s a shot through the heart when their eyes finally meet, and it takes everything in Shigeru not to jump a couple of meters down from his seat and into the court, probably ass first. Kentaroubeams, verging on hysterical, and maybe it’s the adrenaline–or because Kentarou has never been one to give a fuck–he presses his fingertips to his lips and blows a kiss to Shigeru with a wink, just to top it off.
Then Shigeru is really running; he shoulders past Iwaizumi, who is still clapping and shouting, and sprints down to the first floor to the courtside doors. Shigeru weighs the consequences of running through them screaming like a madman and decides to hold himself back if only to let Kentarou fully bask in this moment.
It doesn’t take long for those very doors to burst open, and all he sees is green and yellow, sweaty and tall men who look like they’ve just won something big. The finals, their right to pride, and the hearts of everyone who watched.
When Shigeru sees Kentarou, it’s a miracle that he doesn’t break Kentarou’s spine in the bone-crushing hug he grabs him into. Kentarou returns it immediately, hands in Shigeru’s hair, on his shoulders, lips on cheeks and necks and lips, and they’re both laughing hysterically, crying, too.
Shigeru can’t stop rambling. He’s crying, and for so, so long this moment felt like it would never come, no matter how much energy and hope was poured into its lead-up. He’s so proud and so overwhelmed with love that he should, “probably fucking sit down before I do something very embarrassing like faint or worse , throw up all over your shoes, Kentarou , god–”
Kentarou properly shuts him up and pulls back, not far enough for their chests to separate but just enough that Kentarou can kiss him with all the fire he gave to his game today. Kentarou Kyoutani, the gift that always keeps on giving.
Shigeru is really crying now, clinging to Kentarou and blocking half the doorway, and his teammates would probably be annoyed if they didn’t love Kentarou as much as they do and if Shigeru didn’t take the time to know them all by name. Shigeru feels Kentarou getting some claps on the back from teammates, and that’s when Shigeru finally lets go and grabs onto some sort of inner bearing.
“There’s going to be recruiters waiting for you.” It’s the first coherent thing Shigeru says to him through a blur of tears.
“They can wait,” Kentarou shoots back and holds him tighter.
Shigeru laughs, loud and probably a little insane, and then he looks over to a crowd of men who are obviously here to talk to players, one of whom is already staring down Kentarou.
“You’re ridiculous, and I love you so much.” Shigeru grabs hold of Kentarou’s face and gives him a quick kiss. “Go.”
Kentarou takes a deep breath that does nothing to sober his big smile. He’s about to shoulder past him when Shigeru grabs the bottom of his jersey.
“I’m really proud of you,” Shigeru reminds him.
Kentarou takes a deep breath and nods his head like he’s internalizing the words for the first time before he Kentarou squeezes Shigeru’s hand and walks over to the rest of his team, where they’re talking with men in suits.
Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki meet up with him at some point, recapping the game in excited gestures, but Shigeru is barely present. He’s watching Kentarou have a conversation with a well-dressed man. They’re both smiling.
It feels like a century later when Kentarou returns to them, and Shigeru gives him a moment to catch up with Iwaizumi and thank Matsukawa and Hanamaki for coming. They’re showering him with attention and well-deserved praise, and the weight of pride is even heavier; it’s cutting into his own skin. Shigeru can’t help but smile.
When everyone is filtering out at the center, Iwaizumi offers a round on him, and, well, Shigeru doesn’t work tomorrow, and it’s the off-season for Kentarou starting right now. The man deserves at least a designated 48 hours of celebration.
But before any of that can happen.
“What did they say?” Shigeru grabs Kentarou’s arm before heading to the locker room to collect his things.
Kentarou bites his lip to try and conceal the nervous grin on his face. He takes both of Shigeru’s hands in his.
“I’ll only say yes if you want this,” Kentarou starts.
“Shut the fuck up, what did they say?” Shigeru is bouncing on the balls of his feet and squeezing Kentarou’s hands.
Kentarou takes a deep breath and stares at Shigeru, righting himself.
“I got an offer for VC Kanagawa near Tokyo. V1,” Kentarou states shyly, “But I’ll only say yes if you’re willing to move. It's probably not my only option–”
“Kentarou!” Shigeru grabs onto Kentarou’s face and can barely get the words out quick enough. “Stop it, stop it. Are you fucking crazy? V1. V1, Kentarou! This is what you worked towards for so long; of course, you’re saying yes, for christ’s sake, I can’t believe it!”
Kentarou can barely take the compliment; he’s all red in the face and laughing a little awkwardly before Shigeru wraps him into another hug. “I’m so proud of you. Nearly seven years in the making, and you’re here now. You’re here.”
Kentarou hugs him back tightly, and Shigeru can feel Kentarou’s chest stutter against his own.
“Besides,” Shigeru pulls back to look Kentarou in his glassy eyes, and Shigeru feels love like it’s a physical thing he’s holding. “I’ve quite missed Toyko.”
Kentarou gives a watery laugh before he pulls Shigeru in by the neck and kisses him, and kisses him, and he won’t stop kissing him. Matsukawa is wolf-whistling from a couple of meters away, Hanamaki is yelling for them to get a room, and Shigeru is flipping them off behind his back, laughing into it.
It feels a lot like winning: Kentarou’s lips and his hands and the way they’ve never been anything but happy to walk into the dark together, as long as they’re hand-in-hand.