Chapter Text
The Gauntlet was often a once in a lifetime event for athletes in Atlantis. It happened once every fifteen years, precisely on schedule, and some trained for years for the chance to compete. To compete in the Gauntlet, you had to come prepared with a team of five. Each member would be vetted based on their physical ability to compete and, whether the board admitted it or not, their charisma. Competitors who did well in the Gauntlet often became public figures bound to be famous for the rest of their lives in Atlantis. Three months before the event, teams were assessed, and two months before, eight teams were announced as the competing teams.
This year somehow, Akaashi Keiji is on one of the teams.
In a way, it comes as no surprise to him. He was athletic in his days as a teenager, and so were most of his friends. His neighbor, Osamu, has a twin brother with a penitent for mischief (well, they were both his neighbors, he supposed,), so they made the long trek to surface quite often while they were still in Academy. Atsumu had always, always wanted to compete in the Gauntlet. Keiji remembers how he got after the last one, when they were just seven years old. Osamu and Atsumu’s mother took all of their friends to see the games, and Atsumu never looked back. He’s been planning, scheming his Gauntlet team for over a decade. Keiji should have known he would be on it.
Atsumu catches him one day when he’s on his way back from the market. ‘Tis the season for Red Snapper in Atlantis, so he wants to christen his home with some, but Atsumu has other plans. He runs up to him with a stuffed leather journal that Keiji easily recognizes as his Gauntlet journal.
“Keiji. Ya know what ‘m here to ask ya, don’t ya?” Atsumu starts batting his eyes as soon as he starts talking. Keiji does, in fact, know what he’s going to ask, but he’s never taken the time to seriously ponder an answer. Funny, how avoidance works.
“I do,” Keiji says with a huff. “I’m really not sure I’m the person for the job, Tsumu.”
“But I am.” Just like that, his book is open. Atsumu has a profile on him spread across two lined pages, written entirely in his chicken-scratch handwriting. Keiji is accustomed to it from the Academy, so he can get the gist. “Yer foresight ability would be killer in the Gauntlet. I’m surprised ya aren’t snapped up already.”
Foresight was an ability that Keiji inherited from his grandmother. Aside from her, he didn’t know anyone else who had the same gift. In moments of stress, or high-stakes, he could see what would happen next, just a few moments before it would actually happen. As a kid he always wished he had something flashier, or at least something practical for an Atlantean, but as he grew older, he learned to appreciate it. He saved a stranger’s life just a few years ago when he saw him get struck by an oncoming speeder and managed to yank him out of the way. He was handsome, too. Keiji wanted to ask him out afterward, because he was just that handsome, but a date that directly follows a near death experience didn’t seem like the right move., and the man was lost forever to the medics
But anyway--
Keiji does see how his foresight would be helpful. The Gauntlet had to be as high-stress as stress could get, so his ability would likely manifest often throughout. He’ll continue to entertain Atsumu’s idea.
“Who else is on your team?”
“Samu, Sunarin, and Omi-kun.”
Sakusa Kiyoomi? Now that was a pull that no one saw coming. Atsumu had been head over heels infatuated with Sakusa Kiyoomi for years, but was always too afraid to say anything. It always made Keiji sort of sad for him. Beyond that, he had incredible abilities of flexibility, and was able to contort and stretch in ways Keiji couldn’t process.
“How the hell did you get Sakusa Kiyoomi on your Gauntlet team?”
“I slept with ‘im.”
Keiji nearly chokes on his own spit. Atsumu stands there, just blinking, like he hasn’t just dropped the most jarring statement of the year. He lets some silence pass while he figures out how to change the subject.
“They’ve all already agreed to be on the team.”
“Mhm, just need you, Keiji.”
He gives himself ten seconds to process. Ten seconds to decide whether he wants to attempt fame, or to stay on track with his nice little life, go home, and cook this Snapper.
“You know what? I’m in.”
Just like that, Keiji has changed his life. He didn’t know it, yet. Then, he had really just agreed to go try out with a gazillion other teams.
On the day of their tryout, they arrive at an assigned time, and are brought into a closed room for screening. It was common knowledge that teams weren’t shown to each other during the tryout period, to discourage infighting and pre-planning. Atlantis was all about peace. Some fighting for entertainment was fine, but no one wanted to encourage fighting outside of the arena. They have to fill out paperwork to start, mostly logistical stuff that Atsumu dictates to Sakusa to write in his disgustingly perfect handwriting. They also indicate their preferences for a team color assignment if they’re to be chosen-- they rank black first, white second, and yellow third.
After that, they have physical examinations. A cleric inspects their general health, gives them eye exams, basic stuff. They’re each asked to run down the length of the room, grab a token from a chest of items, and bring it back. They’re all also asked to lift a fifty pound weight, which proves to be harder for Keiji than it does for the rest of the team.
Each of them is taken from there to an office for individual interviews. Akaashi has never needed to be particularly charming. He grew up to be particularly pretty, and he knows this. He skates by on it more often than not.
“Akaashi Keiji,” the interviewer begins, “Twenty two years old, six feet tall, an honors graduate of the Academy.” She’s reading off of his section of their paperwork, which he had expected. “And your ability is… foresight? Can you give me a quick run down of that?”
“Sure,” he’s done that countless times. “Before something important or stressful happens, my brain tells me, so I can react ahead of time. For example, I could see a glass falling and catch it before it smashes.”
“Ah,” she pauses, tapping her pen on the application page a few times before looking up at him. “You’re Akaashi Ayumu’s grandson?”
“Yes, ma’am.” he says with a smile. His grandmother is a social butterfly, and a sweetheart. They were nothing like each other, but they were identical in lots of ways, too. One thing they didn’t share was her uncanny ability to know everybody in this damn city. The interviewer scribbles something down.
Then he sees it, in traces of neon color, as he usually does; a luminescence seen only to him. Her fist plummeting toward him. His heart rate spikes, and he ducks in his chair. He sits up when he hears the punch whir through the air and miss.
“So it’s true,” she concedes.
What, did she think he fucking made it up?
When he looks over at her again, she has a smile on her face, so perhaps she was humoring herself.
“Tell me why you’d like to compete in the Gauntlet, Akaashi.”
His mind drifts back to their few weeks of practice leading up to this moment. Atsumu had a board set up, an entire wall of his bedroom dedicated to training, every single day planned for them, so they would be able to ace this screening. He remembers the way Sakusa looks at him with incredible attentiveness when they meet, how he easily soaks up every word Atsumu speaks. He remembers each meal Osamu has prepared for them to encourage their journey, and every snide comment made by Suna. They did have the perfect team chemistry. It was exactly what the commission team would want for the Gauntlet.
“This isn’t just a team, these are my friends,” Keiji says. He’s rehearsed this answer, but it won’t come out exactly right. “The Gauntlet has been a lifelong endeavor. If I get the opportunity to experience glory in any way in my lifetime, I want it to be this way, with them. Success alone doesn’t feel the same”
She writes again. He wishes he knew how he was doing, but she’s back to her poker face.
“That’s all we need from you, Akaashi. You can send in Mr. Suna Rintaro next.”
That was it? But that was so… short?
He’d walked out of that interview sure that somehow, he had blown it for the whole team. He tried to tell them over and over again that he got a weird vibe from their interview, but none of them agreed, not even Osamu.
And then today, team announcements. Your status comes in the mail, to the house of a designated coordinator for the team. The letter went to the Miya household by default.
The team, and Osamu and Atsumu’s mother gather around the table to open the letter. There’s an unspoken agreement that Atsumu gets to open it, no one needed to discuss that. After a long moment of silence, he slices the envelope open with a letter opened, unfolds the paper, and begins to read.
“It has all ‘f our names at the top first.”
“And then what?” Suna interjects. Atsumu clears his throat.
“Congratulations. The Gauntlet Committee is happy ta offer yer team of five a spot as one of our eight competing teams at the upcoming Gauntlet. This acceptance can only apply ta yer full team as shown at yer tryout, and does not allow fer substitutions without a hearin’ with the Gauntlet Committee.” He pauses, and sucks in a deep breath. “Ta accept your positions as Team Black in the Gauntlet, please thumbprint in the circle below.” Atsumu sets the paper down, and glances over the rest of the group. No one says anything else at all, they just exchange looks in silence. Eventually, Atsumu’s head turns over his shoulder to look at his mother.
“‘M goin’ to the Gauntlet, Ma.” He hugs her so tightly that Keiji expects she can’t breathe.
“Always knew ya would,” she said.
Only now do they begin to chatter. More hugs are exchanged, though Atsumu is the only real hugger here. Keiji receives one from him, some point in the circle he’s making.
“We got in ‘cause of you, Keiji,” he says.
“Bull-shit,” Keiji replies, “You’ve been putting this together your whole life, we did it together. And we’ll win together, too.”
Atsumu only hugs him tighter, pressing a big kiss on his cheek. The gesture is cute, and sort of child-like, Keiji doesn’t mind it.
Eventually, when the initial celebration dies down, they gather around the paper and press their thumbs into the circle. Once all five of them have done it the section begins to glow, in true Atlantean fashion. More words appear on the paper below it. This time, Osamu reads.
“Thank you fer yer prompt acceptance of yer role. Uniforms will be delivered to this address in two weeks time, one day prior ta yer Gauntlet orientation. Gauntlet orientation will be held in the arena ‘nd all members must be present. Any member's absence(s) without explanation will result in the disqualification of yer Team.”
Akaashi Keiji is on Team Black for the Gauntlet. The team is going out to celebrate, but everyone returns home first to tell their families. Keiji’s parents have been away for quite some time now. He didn’t need them or anything, he was old enough to take care of himself, but it would have been nice to tell them this. His parents are researchers, and they were always out of the city for months at a time. It was this way since Keiji’s childhood, since his birth, really, which is why he was so close with his grandmother. In Atlantis, it was typical for families to live all together for much longer than they do on the surface. Keiji only figured that out a few years ago.
His grandmother, however, is home.
“Baba?” Keiji tucks into his home quietly. His grandmother is in the kitchen, but she turns to him when he steps inside.
“Keiji, how did it go?” She sets down a wooden spoon, coming closer to him.
“We’re in,” Keiji says. “We’re all gonna be in the Gauntlet.”
His grandmother hurries over to hug him. It’s amusing how tiny she is. He remembers how big all adults seemed when he was young, but he got taller, and she definitely shrunk a little bit. He wraps his arms around her, and lays his forehead down on her shoulder. Despite their training thus far, this is the first time it feels real . He, Akaashi Keiji, is going to compete in the Gauntlet. Akaashi Keiji who used to write stories about how rocks came to be broken. Akaashi Keiji who would eat lunch with his professors instead of going outside. Akaashi Keiji who downright refused to wake up before noon on his days off. It felt weird, but it felt good. Really good, like he was doing something good for his friends, and for himself. This would be the adventure of a lifetime.
“I’m so proud of you, Keiji.” She finds his hand with her own and squeezes. “I’m sure your parents will be very proud as well.”
“I’m not sure they’ll be back in time. . .”
“When they find out you’re competing, they will be,” she insists. “We’ll send for them tonight. They have two months to get back.” His grandmother is on her way to the communicator immediately, preparing herself to crouch down and turn it on.
“Here, Baba, I’ve got it--” Akaashi jogs over and steps in front of her, crouching down to switch the system on. It hums to life, the opening display showing their most commonly used contacts, his parents, the Miya house, and his grandmother’s favorite eatery among them. He taps his father’s face, knowing that he’s more likely to answer, and steps back, waiting for him to do so.
It rings for a while, but his father does pick up. The image shows his father in a full-body cold water suit, his mother distantly in the background, rifling with something Keiji can’t discern. She’s suited up, too, so it’s clear that they’re in open water.
“Keiji?” his father sounds confused, and he clearly wasn’t expecting him to call today. Keiji has a few questions of his own, though.
“Where are you guys?”
“Near the South Pole,” he says hurriedly, “We’re tracking the source of an anomaly. Science stuff, Keiji.”
His parents are academics, but differently than he is. They find bursts of magic, break them down, and explain them, while Keiji leans more into language, literature, and meaning. They often boil down what they do to ‘science stuff’ to him and his grandmother, which has always bothered him, but he doesn’t have the energy to express that, nor has he ever.
“Your son has news,” she chimes in just on cue, as if to remind her son that she, too, is in frame.
“Of course, mama,” his father turns to flag his mother down. It takes a few seconds, but she drifts over through the water, close enough to hear them.
“Hi, Keiji! Ayumu!” she waves, and they both wave back. Then, his grandmother nudges him.
“Go on,” she says.
Akaashi Keiji has never been one to beat around the bush. He’s blunt,sometimes to a fault, and he doesn’t feel the need to try and suppress that considering that the news he plans to deliver is good.
“I’m competing in the Gauntlet.” The more times he says it, the more true it becomes. He’s one of forty.
“What?” His mother is coming closer, while both of his parents’ faces show plain disbelief. They both look at them, heads cocked, like he’s grown a second head.
“Atsumu, Osamu, two of their friends, and myself were accepted as a team for the Gauntlet.”
“ The Gauntlet? Like the one that happens once every fifteen years?”
“The one and only.” The smallest smirk begins to form on his lips. He’s even bested his parents.
His parents look at each other, then back at him through the comm.
“That’s amazing, Keiji,” his mother is the first to speak again. “We just had no idea you were trying out.”
“We’ll try to make it back,” his dad adds, “It’s a long way, but we’ll try.” His mother supports this statement with some rather vigorous nodding.
“Okay well… I’ll see you, then.” He isn’t sure what else to say. It was always awkward when all four of them talked in the same room, it was weirdly tense.
“Yes, we will,” his father says. “Congratulations, Keiji.”
“Love you,” Keiji adds for good measure.
“We love you, too.” his parents speak simultaneously. The communicator’s image goes dead after that, redirecting him and his grandmother back to the homescreen. He crouches down to turn the device back off. Anyone else he wants to tell he would tell in person, but he knows that word would get around soon, anyway. Accepted teams become public information when the team thumbprints their letter, he thinks, so he expects to be hearing from former professors and classmates alike within the next few days.
It was a curious thought. Keii knows that his life will inevitably change, starting today. In some ways it already has; but much more was to come. He can only imagine the scenarios, work his brain through possible interactions, experiences, and conversations to try and envision his near future. And yet, he can’t truly know, not yet. He would have to find out what the universe has in store for him on his own, and he thinks that’s beautiful.
Keiji makes a conscious choice to not seek any more change. He goes along with their team training schedule, but beyond that, he does nothing new. He doesn’t even seek out the names of the other players, determined to let himself be surprised when the time for orientation comes.
He receives plenty of congratulations, though. When he’s out and about and he sees someone he knows, they come over to tell him how cool he is, and how excited they are. Most of it seems surface-level, a necessary formality, or something self-serving, but there are one or two encounters he’s excited about. The first is his favorite teacher from childhood, Miss Hito. He kept in regular contact with his favored professors from his teenage and young adult years, but his childhood teachers felt lost to time, in a way. Miss Hito was always kind to him. She nurtured his love for writing, and for that, alone, he owes her everything. She looks older than he remembers when he runs into her on his way to Sakusa’s, but her voice is unmistakable. When she hugs him, it feels like that of a mother. When she recalls her shock in hearing his name among the participants, he believes every word. The second encounter he truly enjoys is Komori Motoya. Komori is Sakusa’s cousin. Keiji has known him for years casually, though they never talked when they were in school, they were friendly toward each other. When they bump into each other, Komori greets him like an old friend, congratulating him earnestly and sharing his excitement to see him share a team with his cousin.
Overall, Keiji feels like he’s on a good track. He doesn’t love every part of training, but he likes how it makes him feel. Not the soreness, but the strength that seems to come afterwards. He becomes accustomed to pushing his own limits in a way he never wanted to previously. When he wakes up in the morning, he finds himself looking at himself in the mirror in disbelief. He is doing this. And everyone is cheering him on.
The day before orientation, the team’s uniforms arrive in a sleek black box on the Miya family doorstep. The team gathers in their home as usual, and promptly tears the box apart. Even Keiji has trouble containing his own excitement, and he unravels his uniform as soon as Atsumu tosses it to him. He yanks off the ribbon that holds the uniform into it’s folded shape and holds it up by it’s shoulder seams. The front has the Gauntlet’s logo for this season, neat and shiny over the right breast. The back has his last name in white letters ‘A K A A S H I’ with the numbers ‘02’ below.
“Why am I two?” Keiji means to think it, but he says it aloud.
“Captain gets number one, everyone else goes in order alphabetically,” Sakusa says. “Akaashi, Miya, Sakusa, Suna.”
“Hah, ‘m number one, Samu.”
Osamu groans at him, and rightfully so. Ordinarily, they would go out to celebrate, but showing up to orientation tired or hungover sounded like a bad idea. Instead, they celebrate at home. Atsumu and Osamu’s mother is cooking up a nice, greasy dinner for them, and Keiji’s grandmother brings over a pot of tea that she insists she’s imbued with good fortune. She’s always leaned into the magical side of things, and with all of his trust in her, Keiji always did his best to take her blessings to heart. They share a meal, and laugh the night away until their early bedtimes.
The next morning, Keiji gets into uniform, and meets the team outside of Sakusa’s house. They meet at Sakusa’s because it’s closest to the light rail loop, which they’re all going to take together to the stadium. The team decided that it would be best to arrive together instead of meeting at the stadium, to project confidence and organization. The light rail comes often, it’s on an ongoing loop of the inner and outer rings of the city 24-hours a day. It usually slows just enough for people to hop on, but you can request a full stop, if needed.
They don’t stop the rail, though. Team Black hops onto the platform one by one, and it’s easier than Akaashi remembers. Their jerseys attract lots of attention, every single set of eyes on their platform stares at them, some couples and groups begin to lean into each other for conversation. They all take to it differently. Atsumu likes it very visibly, smiling at people who look over at him, sometimes waving. Suna likes it, too, but he’s a little bit more smug. Osamu seems to be flustered by the attention, while Sakusa seems annoyed, though he can’t stop looking at Atsumu, either. Keiji doesn’t necessarily mind it. He’s never felt the need to be flashy, but the thought of people all in anticipation of him, or in awe of him, feels good.
The stadium is bigger than Keiji remembers when they arrive. It towers up, taller than any other structure in the city, and it’s wide and round. There are workers currently painting the entrance-side of it into a large mural which will be done by the day of. It’s gorgeous and colorful already, though only certain parts of it are colored in. Keiji is sure that it will be even nicer once it’s done.
Together, the team heads into the stadium. He feels small as he passes through the doorway, like an ant in the surface’s Colosseum. They’re ushered by staff toward a small section of stadium seating; it appears they’re gathering the competitors in that spot for an opening meeting. Keiji can see what teams are there, even from far away, there are dots of green, blue, and red, other colors scattered amongst the seats. As they get closer he can make out more specifics, like facial features and hairstyles, just not names. He sees a few faces that are vaguely familiar, people that he went to Academy with, but they were in different years, others he recognized from simply living in the same city his whole life, even though it is a big one. The hair of his old classmate Kenma Kozume is easy to pick out from the crowd once they get close enough, shrouded in a white uniform. Keiji tries to recall his ability from his memory, but he just can’t think of it. He’s huddled into a group with a whole bunch of very tall guys, some of them are definitely Sakusa-sized.
Keiji waves at him as they approach, and he gives a very curt wave back. He can’t tell whether or not Kozume recognizes him from it, because he’s always been very reserved. Nonetheless, the wave causes some of his team members to look over their shoulders at his own team approaching.
Keiji stops for a moment, a completely involuntary pause in pace as he gets a good look at the other members of Team White. One member in particular.
He’s unmistakable. With spiked black and silver hair and bright, golden eyes that pierce him like an arrow. Keiji doesn’t know his name, but it’s him. It’s the man whose life he saved two years ago.