Chapter Text
“He’s just so damn insufferable!”
Peace. Peace and quiet to eat his lunch. That is all Shinji wants in life. He wants to enjoy the fact that January is surprisingly starting to bring some warmer weather and that there are still some robins fluttering about in search of some treats. He sighs and sets his bento back down on his lap.
“So you have said, repeatedly,” Shinji counters.
Yahaba glares at him, then down at his untouched bento, “I just wish he would take things more seriously.”
Shinji tilts his head in confusion, “Kyoutani is the most serious guy I’ve met, maybe even a little too serious.”
“No, he’s the most stubborn asshole you’ve met,” Yahaba corrects, and man isn’t that just ironic.
“Is he, though?”
“Shut the fuck up, Watari,” Yahaba snaps, “He’s stubborn, angry, and can’t take criticism to save his life!”
“That sounds awfully familiar,” Shinji retorts, looking at him completely expressionless. Yahaba’s eyes narrow dangerously, “I’m kidding. Please don’t throw me against a wall.”
“That’s not- I don’t just-” Yahaba lets out a frustrated huff, “You’re missing the point!”
“Well, what’s your point?”
“My point is that Kyoutani can’t accept when he’s wrong, so much so that it affects the team!” Yahaba argues, and Shinji supposes he can understand where that’s coming from.
Kyoutani can be an infuriating guy. He doesn’t like to do what he’s told, and any form of criticism seems to be considered a personal attack on his character. He’s short-tempered and easily provoked, and when things get too overwhelming he has a tendency to avoid, but Shinji knows Kyoutani can also be extremely kind and considerate. Although it looks like it physically pains him, Kyoutani is always willing to offer help where needed. He’s helped first years with their spiking practice, he hangs onto every word Iwaizumi says, and even though he would never admit it, Kyoutani tends to look out for Yahaba, too.
He’s noticed the way Kyoutani always seems to carry Yahaba’s favourite brand of mints; he’s caught him slipping extra stationery supplies into Yahaba’s bag a day or two after the latter has complained his favourite pen is running out or that his best notebook is starting to fill up; and he knows for a fact that every time Kyoutani pokes fun at or provokes the other, it comes from well-intentions. Kyoutani sucks at verbal communication, but the way he seems to emphasise the importance of trying to force Yahaba to look after himself better clearly shows he cares.
So yes, Shinji can understand where Yahaba is coming from, but he also knows what the issue is.
“You know what your problem is?” Shinji asks, cutting Yahaba off mid-flow.
Yahaba blinks owlishly at him, “I’m sorry?”
“Your problem is that you both refuse to acknowledge there’s a little more to the growing tension between you both than simple animosity,” Shinji states matter-of-factly. Yahaba looks at him like he’s just sprouted another head.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Yahaba asks, horrified. His eyes are open wide, eyebrows disappearing under his fringe. Shinji feels kind of bad that he is forcing this on Yahaba instead of letting them figure it out for themselves, but he’s just so hungry and lunch ends in 20 minutes.
He isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say now; perhaps honesty is not the best policy. Shinji lets out a quiet sigh, “You clearly have a thing for each other. If you would both just face this unresolved tension head-on-”
“Unresolved tension?!” Shigeru's voice cracks, and he’s looking at Shinji as if he has just spat in his food. His face goes through the first four stages of grief before he whispers furiously, “You think I like him?!"
“Yes,” save no face, be strong Shinji, “and I think he likes you.”
“I’m going to be sick,” Yahaba states, and the worst part is that Shinji knows he’s serious. He reaches over to give Yahaba an encouraging pat on the shoulder.
“I could be wrong,” he’s not. He knows he’s not, “but maybe consider it.”
Yahaba goes silent, staring at his lunch as if it has personally offended him. Shinji waits a moment before concluding that he might have broken Yahaba. He almost feels bad. Almost.
Retracting his hand, he digs into his lunch before Yahaba’s brain can reboot itself.
A month later, Shinji concludes that perhaps he should have kept his mouth firmly shut. Kyoutani and Yahaba still argue because that’s just who they are, but there is something different in Yahaba’s eyes. He hesitates when he reaches out now, fingers twitching like they know they want to touch Kyoutani but forcing themselves not to, resulting in Yahaba forcing his hands into his hair or his pockets.
Shinji thinks Kyoutani has noticed too, simply because he notices everything about Yahaba. He frowns more, as if he’s disappointed that Yahaba’s fingers aren’t gripping into his collar or forcefully lingering on his arm; at a loss when Yahaba simply just huffs and turns on his heels to storm away.
They are even more insufferable than before. Shinji hates himself, just a little, because now instead of them just constantly bickering or flinging each other around, he now also has to deal with them sending each other longing or confused glances. The desperation hanging between them is now disgustingly palpable.
He also kind of hates his Literature teacher for putting all three of them together for a group project. Shinji is a model student. Sure he snickers and passes notes occasionally, but he is polite with a killer smile and a good sense of humour that teachers tend to appreciate, so why did she feel the need to punish him?
They are currently sitting at a table in the library, notes spread out around them while Yahaba silently works out their project outline. He’s fully indulged in the work, completely unwilling to let anyone else help, so Shinji is currently stuck with watching the trainwreck that is a pining Kyoutani Kentarou. His eyes focus on the way Yahaba is chewing on his bottom lip, teeth worrying the skin as he puts the pieces of the metaphorical literature puzzle together. The tips of Kyoutani’s ears are red, which Shinji has come to realise means that he is either embarrassed or distracted. Shinji disturbingly realises Kyoutani must be both right now and fights the urge to groan.
“I’ll be right back,“ Kyoutani murmurs as he stands up abruptly before turning on his heel and leaving. Yahaba watches after him, a pout pulling at his lips.
He waits until the blonde is completely out of view before he whips his head back round to look at Shinji, “I hate you, but you were right.”
Shinji jolts, “Pardon me?”
“You were right,” Yahaba repeats, then makes a very pained expression, “I think I like him.”
Oh, well, that’s good, at least. He has reached acceptance quicker than Shinji thought he would.
“How does that make you feel?” Shinji asks carefully. Yahaba lets out a pained groan and bangs his head off the table, “Jesus, Yahaba, it isn’t that bad.”
“It is,” he whines into his notebook, “it really is, because now all I can focus on is his stupid lips and his stupid smile, and the way his stupid face lights up whenever I give him one of his favourite sweets because I always carry them on me now, for some fucking reason? ”
Shinji snorts, “Why is that a bad thing?”
“I like him so much it hurts, Watari,” Yahaba whispers, then looks up again with the saddest expression Shinji has ever seen him openly wear, “and he’ll never like me back like that.”
“You can’t be serious,” Shinji deadpans. One step forward, three steps back.
“I am serious, deadly serious,” he emphasises, then sits back up properly and looks down at his notebook, “I really don’t think he’ll ever feel the same way.”
“Absolutely not, I’m not doing this,” Shinji declares, because fuck whatever pity party is about to begin, “he likes you so much, it physically hurts me to watch.”
“How can you possibly know-” Yahaba argues. Shinji cuts him off with a troubled groan.
“Because I’m watching him when you aren’t,” Shinji points out, then realises how weird it sounds, “it’s hard to miss the way he stares at you. Not to mention he picks up on all the little things about you.”
“Like what?” Yahaba asks quietly, staring at Shinji intently.
“Well, he helps you carry your books, his ears go red when you laugh at his jokes, he started eating lunch with us, then after realising you were allergic to bell peppers he stopped bringing them?!” Shinji starts, exasperated, “He carries your favourite mints around in case you run out - has done for a while now. He also likes your butt. I catch him staring at it. A lot. It’s gross.”
Yahaba’s face goes bright red as he covers his smile with the palm of his hand, “Oh.”
“Yeah, ‘oh’ ” Shinji grins, then punches Shigeru in the arm, “He’s worse than you, actually.”
“Oh shut up-”
“Woah, why are you bright red, Yahaba?” Kyoutani asks suspiciously, and out of nowhere Shinji might add. He places three brown to-go cups on the table, and the aroma that hits Shinji’s nose makes his mouth water.
“I’m not, mind your business!” Yahaba rushes out so quickly it makes Shinji bite back a laugh, “What’s that?”
“O-kay...” Kyoutani trails off, then his ears turn red again, “Uh, I got us all coffee.”
Yahaba perks up immediately, eyes sparkling, “Wait, from where?”
“There’s a new vending machine near the 2nd-years toilets,” Kyoutani explains as he sits down. He hands Shinji a cup, “I got you hot chocolate since I know you aren’t big on coffee.”
“Oh hell yeah,” Shinji takes the cup with a smile, no wonder Yahaba likes him so much, “Thanks, Man.”
“No bother,” he looks almost reluctant to hand Yahaba his, but does so while avoiding eye contact, “they had a vanilla latte option, and I know that's your favourite, so uh.. here.”
Yahaba looks like he is caught between crying and jumping out of his chair to kiss Kyoutani. Instead, he lets a small smile find its way onto his face as he gently takes the cup, “Thanks, Ken.”
“It’s no problem,” Kyoutani mutters, but Shinji can tell he’s biting back a smile. It’s cute, and when Yahaba looks over at him with that same pained, pleading look, Shinji simply gives him a knowing smile and raises his eyebrows as if to say, ‘I told you so’.
Shinji watches from the sidelines as the volume around him steadily grows higher, partially amused but mostly just bored with the same routine every day. He’s known Yahaba for years now and has even come to appreciate all his quirks and qualities - even if they do drive him off the wall occasionally. So Shinji knows that his best friend is a creature of habit, perfectionism and routines wrapped up in a polite, considerate, easily provoked teenage boy.
Still, this is starting to get ridiculous. Everybody else has already left, smart enough to want to avoid penalty laps courtesy of a pissed Mizoguchi. Shinji knows he should just leave them to it, but his need for entertainment wins over his need for self-preservation.
He watches, transfixed, as Yahaba grabs Kyoutani by the collar of his gym shirt - oh, here it comes - snarling as he flings the latter against a locker. Shinji wonders how many dents they’ve put into the cheap metal containers in the last six months alone - he also can’t help but notice it always seems to be Kindaichi’s locker. He needs to hold in a snort.
“You’re such an asshole, Kyoutani!” Yahaba seethes, and Shinji watches in fascination as Kyoutani blinks back at him, utterly focused on just Shigeru’s face. Seriously, why is Shinji even here?
“Yeah? Well, you’re just a pompous know-it-all who thinks he is better than everyone else,” Kyoutani baits, “news flash, Yahaba, nobody actually cares about your stupid opinions.”
Oh, dear. Shinji grimaces as he watches Yahaba’s cheeks go pink, a clear sign that Kyoutani has pushed the right button. Which, obviously, Kyoutani immediately picks up on.
“Oh, but that’s your issue, isn't it?” Kyoutani taunts, “You’re so scared of what everybody else thinks that you have ended up a carbon copy of what everyone else expects you to be.”
Yahaba pulls him back then shoves him violently back against the wall, “Shut the fuck up!”
“Why should I?” He challenges, “You know I’m right, you’re smart. You have good ideas, and you shouldn’t be forcing yourself to hide them so others will like you when you’re fine just the way you are!”
Shinji feels himself get whiplash with how quickly Yahaba’s face seems to shift from furious to astonished, his face heating up against his will. His grip on Kyoutani’s shirt seems to slacken a little, eyes wide. Shinji thinks Yahaba looks like he is going through a large-scale inner battle, lips parting in surprise. Shinji catches the moment Kyoutanis’ eyes follow the movement, and so does Yahaba by the way he lets out a loud, pained groan that startles Kyoutani and Shinji.
He turns to Shinji, his features back to absolutely furious. “This is all your fault,” he demands, before he turns back to Kyoutani with a slightly softer look, voice pleading and quiet as he says, “Please, don’t hate me for doing this.”
Kyoutani looks offended at the mere suggestion, “For doing what-”
Shinjis’ eyebrows fly upwards, mouth slack as he watches Yahaba yank Kyoutani forward by the collar and kiss him, eyes scrunched shut tightly. Kyoutani immediately melts into the kiss, hands coming up to cup Yahaba’s face as he eagerly kisses back.
Relief and pride wash over Shinji - maybe he can have a peaceful senior year now that he isn’t going to be watching this trainwreck. A part of him thinks Yahaba definitely owes him big time; he can repay Shinji by letting him be the best man at their wedding; or with the new Assassin's Creed game. Either works for him.
Relief quickly forms into disgust the longer the kiss goes on. Shinji glances at the clock on the wall in panic, “Uh, guys?”
They make no indication that they can hear him, and Shinji wishes he was more surprised, but he just isn’t. He wavers on whether or not he should just go, but he really doesn’t want to do penalties alone. His decision is made for him, though when someone, he isn’t sure who, lets out a small gasp.
Nope, absolutely not. He books it for the door, resolving that doing penalties alone can not be any worse than third-wheeling to whatever is about to transpire. Once the door slams behind him, he starts running towards the gym as fast as his legs will let him. He skids around corners at a dangerous speed, and by the time he bangs open the gym door, his lungs are burning, and he’s officially 7 minutes late.
“Watari!” Mizoguchi barks from his spot on the bench, Shinji gives him his best award-winning smile.
“I apologise for my tardiness, Coach!” He rushes out. He thinks he can hear Hanamaki cackling from somewhere close by.
“Save it! Ten laps around the gym!”
The smile falls off Shinji’s face - crabbit old fart. He heaves a large sigh, then starts off with a gentle jog.
Serves him right, really. He knew he should have just left them to it, but it was worth it to feel the satisfaction of his meddling having the desired effect. He’s glad his friends have figured it out, though; Shinji isn’t sure how much longer he could have dealt with their unnecessary pining. Yahaba works hard and always seems to think he doesn’t deserve anything good that comes his way, and he can tell his friend will be reluctant to accept the fact Kyoutani actually likes him back. Shinji isn’t sure what makes him so confident, but he has faith that Kyoutani will be as persistent and reassuring as he usually is, in his own weird way. A small smile finds its way onto his face at the thought.
“Looking a little too happy there, Watari,” Matsukawa observes as he falls into a light jog beside him. When Shinji looks up at him, he’s wearing a lazy smirk, “I think I’ll need to tell the coach you need more laps.”
“Please, don’t.” Shinji pleads, a little winded already from 2 laps.
“I’m only joking,” Matsukawa lets out a quiet laugh. Shinji wonders how his upperclassman looks so put together, “where are Yahaba and Kyoutani?”
Shinji stumbles over his feet but manages to catch himself. It has only just occurred to him that he isn’t sure if Yahaba is comfortable sharing their newest development, “Uhhh, still in the locker room, I’m assuming.”
“It’s not like Yahaba to be late,” Hanamaki adds, suddenly at his other side. Shinji stubbornly keeps his eyes ahead, focusing on the fact he is approaching lap four rather than looking at the seniors.
“Indeed it isn’t,” Matsukawa agrees, then hums in consideration, “I wonder what’s keeping them behind so late. Must be important if Yahaba is still distracted.”
Shinji holds in a snort. That sure is one way to put it. His resolve stays strong, though.
“Well, Mad dog does seem to capture Yahaba-chan’s attention rather frequently,” Oikawa’s voice chirps in behind them, and when Oikawa floats around and starts jogging back words with a wicked grin, Shinji begins to feel like he might be getting ambushed.
“Don’t know what you mean,” Shinji wheezes out. Only five more laps to go.
When Oikawa’s eyes narrow dangerously, Shinji feels like he might have said the wrong thing. He hears laughter from either side of him and desperately wants to know what is so funny. He really doesn’t fancy becoming Oikawa’s next target.
“Then again, Kyoutani does his fair share of admiring too,” Hanamaki pitches in helpfully, “doesn’t explain why they argue so much though.”
“What?! Yes, it does,” Matsukawa cuts in. He sounds absolutely scandalised. He nudges Shinji, “It’s all that unresolved tension, sure it is, Watari?”
Shinji desperately wants this to be over, but they aren’t wrong either, so it feels like dangerous ground to tread on, “Probably.”
“Watacchi.” Oikawa enunciates, and reluctantly Shinji meets his eyes, “Where are Yahaba and Kyoutani?”
Shinji keeps his face as expressionless as possible, “They got caught up in the locker room.”
“Doing what?” Oikawa pushes, eyebrow raising expectantly.
Shinji is caught between a rock and a hard place here. On the one hand, if he lies, then the third years are going to see right through him because they all seem to have some other-worldly fucking gift for reading minds. On the other hand, if he tells the truth without knowing if Yahaba is ready to officially come out, it could permanently damage his relationship with his best friend and Kyoutani by proxy. Well, actually, the answer seems glaringly obvious now.
Shinji simply shrugs. If he doesn’t talk, it doesn’t count as lying. Oikawa gives him a blank stare for a few moments, and the way they all seem to be content to jog beside him in silence makes him feel terribly uneasy. Oikawa gasps suddenly, startling Shinji.
“They’re fighting, aren’t they?!” Oikawa accuses. He is so, so close. Shinji closes his eyes for the briefest moment before looking ahead with the blankest face he can.
“Who’s fighting?” Iwaizumi counters, settling into a slow jog beside Oikawa.
“Seriously, what is going on here?” Shinji asks, incredulous and a little breathless. He looks between his upperclassmen in disbelief, “Why are you all doing penalty runs instead of practicing?”
“Yahaba and Mad Dog!” Oikawa exclaims, ignoring Shinji’s question. Shinji has to resist the urge to put his head in his hands.
“What, like physically?” Iwaizumi double-checks, slowing down a little, “If that’s the case, we need to stop them.”
Iwaizumi turns towards the coaches, and the thought of Mizoguchi walking in on his best friends… resolving their issues results in him panicking, if only a little.
“No!” Shinji shouts before he can stop himself, and when all the third-years stare at him like he’s lost his mind, he shrinks in on himself a little, “It’s not… bad? I think they just need to… get it out of their system.”
Not technically a lie; they are certainly doing just that - just not in the way he is implying. He needs to stop talking. His lungs are screaming at him to collapse into a heap on the floor. Shinji prays to every god he can think of to make these last two laps hurry up and end.
“We really need to work on getting them to form a bond before we graduate,” Oikawa says to the group, still running backwards. Shinji is both fascinated and horrified; it must be witchcraft or something. Oikawa pouts slightly, “How can we expect them to successfully lead a team when they can’t get on for more than 15 minutes in the same space without arguing?”
“They just need time. They don’t have the same advantage we did,” Iwaizumi rationalises, briefly placing a comforting hand on Oikawa’s shoulder. Oikawa gives him a small smile in return, then Iwaizumi turns his attention back to Shinji, “You’re ten laps are done, by the way.”
“Oh, thank god,” Shinji wheezes out, coming to an immediate halt. He leans over, hands on his knees as he gasps for air. His lungs are burning, and his legs feel like jelly - he needs a nap asap.
“We need to figure out a game plan,” Oikawa continues, sounding completely unwinded. This is unfair; Shinji feels like he is moments away from passing out. The least the third years could do is not sound like they do this on a daily basis. The audacity.
“Maybe they just need to try and understand each other a bit better,” Matsukawa supplies thoughtfully.
Now there’s a thought that Shinji doesn’t feel like exploring right now. Kyoutani and Yahaba are probably well on their way to understanding each other a little better as they speak. The thought makes him snort as he stands back up straight, and without thinking, he says, “I think they understand each other just fine. ”
“What is that supposed to mean?” Oikawa asks, peering at him suspiciously. All the third years are staring at him now, much to Shinji’s dismay, clearly intrigued and waiting for an answer that Shinji doesn’t know how to deliver.
“Uh…” he starts, eyes flickering around, “they do understand each other, they just don’t realise how much?” he tries.
Again, he isn’t technically lying. Kyoutani and Yahaba do understand each other in such a deep, strange way that even they don’t really realise the extent of it. They are drawn to each other, eyes scanning every room for the same face every time. It’s disgusting; Shinji wants what they have.
Oikawa isn’t satisfied, but Iwaizumi seems to understand what Shinji is getting at and gives a little nod, “Yeah, I can see that.”
“Naaah,” Hanamaki quips, his grin wicked, “they just need to admit they want to-”
“Makki!” Iwaizumi warns, his tone so low and dangerous that it makes Shinji grimace.
“Calm down,” Hanamaki mollifies with an eye roll, “I was only gonna say that they just need to admit they want to shove their tongues down each other's throats.”
Shinji chokes on a laugh, hand flying up to contain his giggles.
Iwaizumi scowls at his friend, “See, that is exactly what I didn’t want you to say.”
“I mean, he has a point,” Matsukawa starts, and the lazy smirk lighting up his features is all Shinji needs to brace himself for impact, “Isn’t that what you and Oikawa needed, too? Must be a new tradition!”
Oikawa looks ready to commit murder, and Iwaizumi’s face goes a shade of red so bright that Shinji vaguely worries his head might be about to pop. Hanamaki and Matsuhana are cackling beside him, as if they are the funniest people in the world; Shinji thinks they probably believe they are, as well. The commotion draws the attention of the rest of the team until one-by-one, they all begin to gather around until they have formed some kind of warped circle.
“What’s so funny?” Shido asks, eyeing his friends suspiciously, “Why does Oikawa look like he’s about to kill Hanamaki and Matsukawa?”
“Unresolved tension” is all Hanamaki gets out, but it’s enough for the rest of the third years to understand the butt of the joke.
“As much as I love to mock how oblivious Oikawa and Iwaizumi both were,” Yuda starts, eyes twinkling with amusement, “Why are we dredging that back up?”
“We think Kyoutani and Yahaba might have the same issue,” Iwaizumi begrudgingly admits, and someone lets out a strained squawk.
“I knew it!” Naoko yells, exasperated, “They have been so insufferable in Maths class recently!”
Koshiro snorts, “Try every fucking class. It’s disgustingly sweet.”
Shinji lets out a pained laugh. He didn’t even think about how the other second-years probably felt. He is just so used to seeing it all first-hand and suffering silently. He considers proposing a second-years support club.
“Well, now that we’ve established the obvious,” Sawauchi deadpans, “how do we resolve it?”
“A betting pool.” Hanamaki and Matsukawa say in unison, and Shinji is starting to think they had this planned all along.
“Absolutely not,” Iwaizumi protests with a frown, “we can’t bet on the love lives of our underclassmen.”
“Well, hold on a minute,” Oikawa intervenes, his hand held up, “how much are we talking? What kind of betting pool?”
“We overheard the coaches talking about a solo training camp for us all before graduation,” Matsukawa explains, “we could bet on how they’ll get together and when, with a time limit for the end of camp?”
“You’ve put far too much thought into this,” Iwaizumi berates, then smiles cheekily, “but I’m in.”
“So am I,” Oikawa rushes to agree, “easy money for sure.”
There’s a flurry of agreeance as everybody decides they want in. Shinji agrees, too, considering it’ll be more suspicious if he doesn’t. Besides, it could be fun making Kyoutani and Yahaba suffer just that little bit extra.
“Okay, brilliant!” Matsukawa grins, “Rules are as follows: We can all work together to encourage the future couple, we aren’t allowed to sabotage anyone else’s attempts of match-making, and nobody is allowed to change or retract their bet after we all agree, got it?”
“Yes, sir!” several people mock at once. Shinji thinks it might be all the third years.
“How are we supposed to keep track?” Kindaichi asks, genuinely concerned, “Are we making our bets right now? When do we have to hand in the money?”
“Calm down, kid,” Hanamaki walks over and slings an arm around his shoulders, “we’ll work out the finer details after practice. I’d scatter, though, because Mizoguchi looks like a man out for blood.”
Shinji whips his head around, and sure enough, the coach is storming over to the group with a face full of thunder. He tries to run. Where? He doesn't know, but Matsukawa catches him with a smooth arm around his shoulders. Shinji watches, helpless, as everybody scatters until it is just him, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki left when Mizoguchi is towering over them.
“Hello, coach,” Matsukawa starts with an easy smile.
“Don’t give me that!” Mizoguchi barks, “Why the hell are you all standing around?!”
“Our little Watari here was just complaining he didn’t feel he got a good warm-up out of his penalty laps,” Hanamaki explains sincerely. Shinji looks at him, utterly baffled and betrayed, before turning back to the coach.
“I didn’t say that,” Shinji rushes out. He isn’t sure what is happening right now, but he has an awful feeling that it probably isn’t good.
“He did,” Matsukawa agrees genuinely, “as his senpai, we took it upon ourselves to explain the importance of not pushing your limits!”
Mizoguchi gives Shinji a hard stare, one that looks right into Shinji’s soul and taps into his biggest fear. Right now, Shinji thinks his only fear is having to go another round of penalty laps.
“They have a point; rest is important,” Mizoguchi says plainly. Shinji sags in relief, but then a wicked gleam shines over the coaches’ eyes, “You’ll just have to do a thorough cool down at the end. Fifteen penalty laps before you leave.”
“What?!” Shinji yelps, “No, I promise I don’t-”
“I think he’d appreciate twenty,” Matsukawa chips in. He certainly would not ?!
“No, seriously-” Shinji tries to protest.
“Twenty it is.” Mizoguchi finalises, then glares at the two third-years, “Now, get back to work before you’re joining him.”
With that, the coach turns on his heel and stalks away. Shinji stares after him in disbelief, then turns a hefty glare towards his upperclassmen, “What the hell was that for?”
“Call it calculated interference,” Hanamaki says cryptically.
“Calculated- what the hell does that mean?!”
“A noble sacrifice for a worthy cause,” Matsukawa explains solemnly, as if it makes anything better, “We need Kyoutani and Yahaba to leave without you after practice. There’s no way they’ll wait for you to do twenty laps.”
“I hate you both,” Shinji declares exasperated, “why couldn’t I have just told them to leave without me?”
“We all know they wouldn’t have,” Hanamaki waves off, then gives Shinji a grin, “come practice your receives with us to make up for it.”
“I’m going to make sure every ball bounces back and hits you square in the face,” Shinji mutters, but he follows them anyway.
Yahaba and Kyoutani don’t turn up until twenty past, but when they do they look absolutely dishevelled. Yahaba’s hair is roughed up more than usual, and Kyoutani’s gym uniform is askew; to anyone else, it looks like they might have had a scuffle. As expected, Mizoguchi shouts at them until his face looks like it might burst before he sends them to do penalties together. Shinji catches them both sharing a quiet moment, bumping shoulders as they laugh and run. It’s gentle, sparked with a new energy, and suddenly Shinji is glad he did his laps alone. It’s nice, knowing that his friends have finally stopped dancing around each other.
Yahaba comes up to Shinji after their penalty laps are finished, pulling him to the side with an apology to Matsukawa and Hanamaki.
“I need a favor,” Yahaba says quietly. He seems nervous as he makes sure their senpai aren’t listening in, “is it okay if Kyoutani and I walk home alone? We have a lot to talk about.”
“Of course,” Shinji agrees immediately. He feels like crying. Or punching Matsukawa. “I need to do twenty penalty laps after practice, anyway.”
“What, why?!” Yahaba questions, horrified. It’s exactly how Shinji feels.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” he grumbles before grinning. He gently nudges Yahaba’s arm with his fist, “A lot to talk about, huh?”
“Yeah,” Yahaba gives a shy smile. He looks softer, more open than Shinji is used to seeing him, “it was his idea.”
“Congrats, man, I’m happy for you,” Shinji grins, then leans in close to whisper, “are you guys going to keep it a secret for now?”
“Yeah, we think so,” Yahaba says quietly, “I think we want to test the waters. Besides, Kyoutani is worried the third years will start interfering if we tell them.”
Irony. There is irony everywhere Shinji looks.
“That makes a lot of sense,” Shinji agrees casually, “make sure you keep me updated on everything!”
Yahaba salutes, “You are my number one after all.”
“Now that we have everybody in attendance,” Mizoguchi shouts over the noise, looking at Shinji and Yahaba pointedly, “Coach Irihata and I have an announcement, so gather round.”
Everybody gathers around the benches, Shinji and Yahaba settling at the very back. Kyoutani slides in beside Yahaba and links their pinkies together, causing the latter to flush slightly. Shinji looks ahead with a small, pleased smile.
“Coach Mizoguchi and I have arranged for the team to go on a 5-day solo training camp, a training retreat of sorts,” Irihata announces. “It’ll just be our team, in a rented accommodation with all the necessary facilities for sleeping, showering, and practicing, with some local shops down the street for food and other necessities.”
The team starts chattering excitedly among themselves, and Yahaba turns to Shinji with a giddy smile, “A full week of training, that sounds fun!”
“A full week of Mizoguchi watching our every move,” Shinji counters, his face scrunched up.
He can’t be the only one concerned about sharing accommodation with the coaches, slightly unsettled at the thought of Mizoguchi having an eagle eye set on them at all times. Although the thought of seeing Mizoguchi in pajamas does sound intriguing, Shinji thinks Mizoguchi seems like the kind of guy to rock up to a sleepover in cartoon-animal-covered nightwear. The thought makes him let out a quiet snort.
“We’ll leave Monday morning since it’ll only take about an hour and a half to get to the lodge,” Mizoguchi shouts over the noise, then sends a glare towards Shinji, “8 am sharp, Not a minute later. Understood?”
“Understood!” The team shouts back. Shinji feels personally targeted.
“Ah, so glad you could join us, Watari!”
Shinji pauses at the door, breathing deeply as he glares at Hanamaki with the force of a man willing to kill, “It’s your fault I’m late! If you hadn’t told Mizoguchi to-”
“Ah, enough of that,” Oikawa scolds, “you’re just in time; we’re placing the bets.”
Shinji walks further into the locker room, plopping down onto the bench beside Kindaichi. He watches as Matsukawa settles down on the ground, an A4 notebook perched on one knee while he twirls a pen in his right hand. He’s relaxed as he starts drawing out a table on the page, with three columns and headers in neat block writing.
“Right, so we settled on 5000-Yen per bet,” Matsukawa explains, “You need to say the exact day you think they’ll get together and the circumstances in which it’ll happen.”
“Circumstances?” Iwaizumi cuts in, leaning casually against the lockers.
“Yeah, like, what will trigger the course of events,” Hanamaki explains as he sits down beside Matsukawa, “Are they eating lunch together when Yahaba confesses? Do they kiss mid-argument? Do they confess while locked in a supply closet for an undisclosed amount of time?”
“Please don’t lock my friends in a supply closet,” Shinji interjects, alarmed.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Hanamaki deadpans, then turns back to Iwaizumi, “things like that, though. Circumstances.”
“That makes sense,” Iwaizumi says with a shrug, “any other rules?”
“First rule, nobody is allowed to tell them about the bet,” Matsukawa stresses, looking pointedly at Shinji, “it could influence the results.”
“Don’t look at me,” Shinji holds his hands up in surrender, “I’m great at keeping secrets. It’s Kindaichi you should worry about.”
“Why?!” Kindaichi squawks, offended.
“You crack easily under pressure,” Kunimi explains, Kindaichi deflates with a disappointed frown.
“Second rule,” Hanamaki continues, “You can’t put any ideas in their head like ‘you’d look cute together’ or ‘you guys seem like a cute couple’.”
“Who in their right mind is saying that to Kyoutani, of all people?” Oikawa asks from his spot beside Iwaizumi, Hanamaki and Matsukawa don’t entertain him with a response.
“Third rule, the confession must be obvious,” Matsukawa goes on, “if they aren’t explicitly saying they like each other, they want to be together, or asking each other out, then it doesn’t count.”
“What if they get together when none of us are with them?” Kunimi asks, Matsukawa looks like he’s mulling it over.
“Then we can ask them how and when it happened, and whoever is closest gets the pot,” Matsukawa settles on, “Lastly, you can help encourage their ‘circumstance’ however you like, and you aren’t allowed to sabotage anybody else’s attempt at matchmaking."
“Again, what counts as encouraging?” Iwaizumi interjects again.
“Making them practice together, getting them to sit beside each other during meals,” Matsukawa starts.
“Locking them in a supply closet together,” Hanamaki finishes, and Shinji makes a disbelieving noise, “Kidding - mostly.”
“Okay, now that we’ve got that over with, let's get to the good part,” Oikawa pushes eagerly, then addresses Matsukawa, “I bet they’ll get together on night one, and it’ll be because they wake up cuddling each other.”
“Oh, that's a good one,” Matsukawa encourages as he writes it into his notebook, “Okay, who’s next?”
“Uh, I’ll go next,” Iwaizumi hesitates. He seems conflicted; as if the idea of betting on the love lives of his kouhai is still somehow wrong, “I think they’ll get together on day two, they’ll talk it out.”
“Booooo! Boring!” Hanamaki heckles.
“It’s realistic!” Iwaizumi defends, cheeks tinting slightly. Shinji feels like perhaps this is based on past experiences.
“Yeah, boring!” Hanamaki emphasises. He whacks Matsukawa’s shoulder, “Put me down for day one, locked in a supply closet together until talking turns into kissing.”
“Oh my god,” Shinji groans, flopping his head into his hands. He lets out a quiet laugh before he looks back up at Hanamaki with a wide grin, “Yahaba is going to kick your ass, I hope you know that.”
Hanamaki sniffs, “I’m not scared of him.”
“You should be,” Shinji warns, before he turns to Matsukawa again, “put me down for the last day, they’ll do that stupid wall slam thing mid-argument and kiss, probably.”
He figures it’s a little too specific, especially considering the fact Shinji knows that’s how it actually transpired mere hours ago, but his friends are terribly predictable. Why mess with the inevitable?
“Can’t beat the classics,” Matsukawa concedes, writing it down. He taps the pen against his chin thoughtfully, “I think I’m going to go for day four, it’ll be through some stupid forced team bonding exercise.”
“Team bonding isn’t stupid,” Oikawa mutters bitterly. Iwaizumi nudges him gently and places a gentle kiss on his forehead.
“Gross,” Kunimi states plainly, eyeing the captain and vice in distaste. He turns to Matsukawa with a bored expression, “put me down for day three then, they’ll insult each other or something.”
“Oh come on, you need to be more detailed than that,” Matsukawa chides. Kunimi stares blankly at him and he holds his hands up in surrender, “Fine, ‘insult each other or something ’ it is.”
“How do you expect something that vague to win?” Kindaichi mocks, laughing lightly. He’s smiling brightly at his friend, and Kunimi seems to avoid direct eye contact.
“I doubt you have anything better,” Kunimi mutters.
“I think it’ll be on the way home,” Kindaichi says with a small smile, “I think Kyoutani will do something romantic without meaning to and Yahaba will realise it’s mutual. It seems like their style.”
Everybody goes quiet for a moment, the whole team simply just staring at the first year. He’s right, Shinji knows that for a fact. Kyoutani is definitely a love-through-actions kind of person, doing little things without considering just how much it’ll mean to somebody. Shinji smiles at the nervous-looking first year.
“That’s really sweet actually,” Shinji confirms, “and it’s definitely their style.”
Matsukawa shrugs and writes it down, “Who knew we had such a romantic on the team?”
“Not me,” Oikawa says, eyeing Kindaichi suspiciously. His face scrunches up for a moment, then he says, “we’ll address that one, later.”
Kindaichi gets exactly 5 seconds to feel true fear before the locker room door slams open, a red-faced Mizoguchi glaring at them all. It’s the only warning they all need to start hastily grabbing their stuff before one by one they all disperse out of the locker room.
It’s then that Shinji bitterly realises he’s the only one still left to get changed.