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Sometimes, Kuroo thinks it’s fortunate of him to have the joy of watching things from afar, watching how things and people can unfold and unravel, when given enough space and time to do so, undisturbed.
Case in point — one Kozume Kenma.
Of all the words to describe Kenma, Kuroo supposes ‘fascinating’ wouldn’t be the first one that comes to mind, but hidden under the indifferent exterior, Kuroo wonders if many people stick around long enough to catch glimpses of the feral glint in his eyes when a right chord is struck.
“You know,” Kuroo, aged 12, begins as he lies on Kenma’s bed, watching the creaking ceiling fan slice through the cacophony of cricket chirps mixed with chiptune soundtracks, “I never really understand why you like these games. You just run around the same few places, collect resources to craft items, fight people, then collect more resources to craft more items, then fight more people. Doesn’t it get boring?”
“It’s fun.”
“Doesn’t it feel like a chore?”
“No.” The triumphant music that indicated a cleared quest rings in the room. “It feels like a victory. I like winning.”
“Huh,” Kuroo muses, turning around to look at Kenma’s screen. “Do you like this because you like winning then? What if there’s a really hard level, and no matter what you do you just can’t win? What then?”
Kenma turns around to look at Kuroo, eyes narrowed. He thumbs the pause button without even having to look at the console, then asks, “what are you trying to do?”
“What, I can’t be a good friend and be interested in things they care about now?” he chuckles, then watches the shoulders of his friend sag, tension releasing.
“There’s a multiplayer mode for this game, want a go? Demonstrating is easier than describing how this can be fun anyway,” Kenma suggests, but he’s already reaching out for the shelves where the spare consoles are kept.
Kuroo slides down from the bed into the vacant spot next to Kenma. “Hit me.”
It doesn’t take long for them to ease into a rhythm, silence between the two sinking in the room once more, interrupted by the occasional toad croak mixed in the pitter-patter of a summer drizzle. As they bask in the victory of triumphing against enemies, Kuroo steals the occasional glance in Kenma’s direction, only to see the uncharacteristic gleam in his eyes. Lips slightly upturned, the look of determination is mingled with smugness in his irises.
Unable to help being captivated by the rare display of emotion, Kuroo laughs softly, in spite of himself.
“What,” Kenma mutters, a mask of indifference covering his features once more, but it’s already too late, Kuroo’s already had the privilege of revelling in this wonder they know as Kozume Kenma.
“Nothing,” he beams. “It’s just really fascinating to watch you being so entranced by stuff, I guess? You always look so bored at everything.”
“That’s not true, I enjoy many things.”
“I know.” Watching the golden banner of victory flashing brightly on the screen, Kuroo reaches over to give Kenma a light punch on the shoulder. “I know.”
The first thing that Lev notices about Kenma’s humble abode is simply how cosy it is.
When they step into the house, the faint smell of something fresh from the oven reaches them. Kenma leads them upstairs to his room, glowing with a sense of warmth despite the drawn curtains. Lev reaches out and parts them, taking in the view and fresh air.
“Your house is really homely!” he chirps, before getting cut off by Yaku.
“That’s not an actual word, Lev.”
“It is, actually,” Kuroo slips between the two before pushing them apart, then singsongs, “but why are we arguing about this when we could be raiding Kenma’s stash of games?”
The last rays of the setting sun were already filtering into the room by the time all of them had settled down, enough for them to find themselves a spot in Kenma’s tiny room, dyeing everything in splashes of auburn and gold. Ignoring the weary look in Kenma’s eyes, Lev pokes at Kenma's wide array of devices that have been scattered around, while Yaku and Shibayama flip through Kenma’s game library.
“Why are you guys going through everything ,” Kenma asks in a strangled voice. “I thought you all had already settled on Smash Bros.”
“It’s interesting to look at everything you have! I don’t think I’ve met anyone who’s as into games as you are,” Shibayama smiles.
“Yeah, all this while only this asshole here got access to all your games,” Yaku gestures at Kuroo, who gives him a light shove. “We’re savouring the moment.”
Lev watches Kenma’s features crunch together, a mixture of disgust and contempt written all over his face. “You’re a bunch of leeches.”
“That we are, but I thought we established that many years ago,” Kuroo lets out a hearty laugh.
“Don’t rope us into your evildoings,” Yaku snaps, flinging a nearby console at Kuroo, who deftly catches it in one hand before taking a sip from the Pocari Sweat can from the other. “We’re here to relax after practice together, and just bond with our juniors,” he continues, now turning to look at Kenma with an exaggerated smile, “isn’t that right?” Kenma cringes in response.
Yaku reclaims the console from Kuroo and sets it down with the rest of the equipment. Idly, he shuffles Kenma's Nintendo 3Ds from one hand to the other. “Do you think what we’re doing is enough for the nationals? The first years were pretty much all jittery today, made a lot of mistakes throughout practice.”
“The only first year is Shibayama, if he’s jittery it must be because his senior isn’t doing well enough to help his juniors huh?” Kuroo jabs.
Yaku fumes as Shibayama turns red. “Hey, you’re one to talk, huh? Captain? ”
Distracted by the squabbling, Lev easily swipes the console from Yaku’s hands and edges away, almost knocking into Shibayama. Yaku starts giving chase around the room, yelling at a cackling Lev. Not looking where he’s going, he steps onto Kenma's bed, drawing a hiss from the other end of the room.
“Don't do that, god,” Kenma groans. Swinging on Kuroo, he mutters, “This was a horrible idea, and it’s all your fault.”
The rest of the day follows suit in about as much chaos as you’d expect from a group of teenage boys. They jump from one game to another, taking turns with the switch.
When he finds the chance, Lev scoots over to Kenma and whispers, “are you okay with all of us barging into your house and taking over your games like this?” Together, they sit at the edge of the room, watching Yaku and Kuroo fight, with a starry-eyed Shibayama cheering on their every move. “I know you said you didn’t mind us coming over if we really wanted, but you don’t seem like you’re having any fun.”
Kenma seems to mull it over before finally answering. “I don’t really mind, I guess,” he shrugs. “We’ve been practicing a lot this week to prepare for the upcoming nationals, but I think everyone is still very strung up about it all, don’t you think? It’s also Yaku and Kuroo’s last big game with us before they graduate. I think that's upping the stakes here and seeing everyone worried kind of gives me a headache. If we really wanna win this all, everyone has to be in their best condition. Besides,” gesturing to the three others who were roaring at the screen — Kuroo from laughter, Yaku and Shibayama from fury — a small sly grin creeps up his face, “-I didn’t really show you guys all the stuff I had. These here are just the ones where I haven’t really broken in yet, so there aren’t highscores or specifics I need to protect.”
And there it is again, the odd sense of warmth that Lev felt in the Kenma household, flooding through him. “Aww, you actually care about us all!” he cheers.
Kenma rolls his eyes, but Lev doesn’t miss the satisfied smirk that vanishes just as fast as it appears. “I just wanna see everyone happy,” then adds after a pause, “And also win. I wanna win more games with everyone. It’s not really that noble.”
“Thank you,” Lev beams. “I think you’re a warmer person than you let on, y’know? I think if you tried to be more cheerful and friendly, it’d really boost the team’s spirit!”
The light drains from Kenma’s face. “That’s too much effort, please don’t count on it.”
By then, the sun had long since dipped under the horizon, but here, huddled with the rest of his teammates in their room as they laugh and fight over some pixels on a screen, Lev wouldn’t have it any other way.
Of his years in the Nekoma volleyball club, after Yaku, Shibayama really didn’t expect Kenma to be the senior he missed the most.
After Kuroo and Co. graduated, Fukunaga and Yamamoto were the ones selected as the captain and vice-captain, but in Shibayama’s eyes, something about the way Kenma carried himself displayed a sense of authority that made the rest of the team hold him in the same regard they held the other captains. Though, he never did manage to figure what it was , exactly.
It began when Shibayama reached out to Kenma to ask for extra practice.
After practice, he catches Kenma frowning at the screen of his 3Ds, tapping away. Steeling his nerves, Shibayama steps forward towards Kenma and takes a deep breath. “I want to be more of an asset to the team,” he says, then dips into a bow. “Please teach me how to make good tosses for everyone!”
Pausing the game on the screen, Kenma blinks at him twice, studying him closely before sighing. “Can I not?”
It takes everything in Shibayama to not wither on the spot, but he forces himself to remain steady. He came for one thing today, and he’d be damned if he didn’t at least fight for it before walking away defeated. “You don’t have to, of course, but you’re the most experienced setter on the team, so I’d rather have you teach me than asking for the first year setter. Being able to do a libero toss would really help raise the team’s stats a lot and make it more well rounded.” Staring at Kenma’s unconvinced expression, Shibayama’s words begin to stumble over themselves. “Pretty please?” he pleads, giving Kenma what he hopes is his best puppy eyes.
Years later, Shibayama finds himself chattering away to Kenma about stories of the V League, who sits across the table and hums in mild amusement. After all the extra training Kenma grudgingly tolerated throughout the year, he’s managed to find where he stands with Kenma, as much of an enigma he may seem to the rest of the team.
“I never asked, but what went on in your mind all those years ago when I asked if you’d be willing to help me work on tosses?”
Kenma sets his tea down with a snort. “I was initially going to reject you, but when you assaulted me-”
“I did not assault you!” Shibayama argues. “I requested your help, and very politely at that!”
“Yeah right,” Kenma scoffs. “As I was saying, your team lost the internal practice match that specific day, and I remember you being more upset than anyone else on the team.” Brows pinched together, Kenma continues. “There was something fiery in you that burned for victory. I felt like if I’d rejected you then, I’d be taking that away from you,” he shrugs, reaching out to pour himself another cup of tea. “If winning is what you’re looking for, I can respect that. I think.”
Watching Kenma, his face slightly fogged by the vapour that rises from the steaming cup, gears click in Shibayama’s head.
“You really like winning don’t you, Kenma?”
“Who doesn’t?”
“But victory is the only thing that you think makes the effort worth it. If things give you the taste of winning, you’ll enjoy the challenge, even if it’s something you don’t usually wanna do.”
The corner of Kenma’s lips pull upward in a smile. “Maybe. I like to think that things you give come back to you, like habits, like grinding for events in games, like extra practice.”
And oh , Shibayama thinks. A hunger for victory . He can respect that, he thinks.