Chapter Text
The trees danced, enjoying their time in the abundant spring, filling the air with sounds of rustling leaves and branches. Around Akaashi, the cherry blossoms were beginning to show their true colours, replacing the bare brown branches with their delicate pastel pink. It was a perfect spring day in Tokyo, the kind which brings out throngs of people for parkside walks and picnics.
However, being in his last few weeks of middle school, Akaashi was doing neither of those.
Aside from the final exams which were fast approaching, and the applications for high school that had already been sent out, there was an interference of extra curriculars. Being the compulsive person he was, he could have chosen any extra curricular for himself and probably done well at it. However, due to much urging from his mother, he decided to pick a sport, which in hindsight was probably to make Akaashi get his nose out of books once in a while.
Therefore, to please his mother, but mostly to stop her from worrying, Akaashi chose to do volleyball.
Which was precisely the reason why he was spending this glorious spring afternoon hanging between volleyball matches instead of enjoying a good book in silence.
Walking bathed by the golden sunlight, it was warm enough for Akaashi to crave a popsicle as he walked with his friend. Luckily enough, as they drew near the city gymnasium, there was a singular popsicle stand surrounded by throngs of children, many of whom were older than Keiji. A direct consequence of high school matches also being hosted beside theirs. It seemed the vendor had made the correct decision by settling beside the crowded gym as he happily proceeded in making his sales.
Gently weaving his way through the crowd, Akaashi managed to get his hands on two, one of which he handed to his friend. Since there were so many people crowding around, it took the two of them a moment to find their way to the pavement.
Having finished with their last match of middle school, the two of them meandered towards the town gymnasium’s entrance, choosing to stand beside a tree opposing the azure double doors.
As they watched, two high school boys stepped out of the building. They wore their club uniforms, lightweight white jackets with black and gold stripes along the shoulders and a pair of matching pants. Alongside them, the deafening cheers of the crowd escaped through the shrinking sliver before the doors imprisoned them once again. Feeling unsettled without much to do, it felt like the tittering of the crowd was beckoning him to act.
As if reminded by the sight of the two boys, his friend suddenly turned to him, lips blue from the popsicle, “Akaashi, where are you gonna go for high school?”
Glancing at the backs of the high school students, he read the bold letters proclaiming ‘Fukurodani’. It was one of the most famous schools in his prefecture and was known for its fine academics along with their champion club teams.
“I’m thinking Fukurodani, or Suzu-”
“Why not Fukurodani!” he gasped, turning back towards the two boys. Although they had no testament of their ability, Akaashi saw his friend‘s saw eyes gleam, as if ogling something precious.
Of course, they could not be in the volleyball club without having heard of the powerhouse highschools and the best players, so the observation was not surprising. However, Akaashi was yet to encounter a team or a player who left a lasting impression on him, enough to persuade his decision for high school.
“You got a recommendation for them, right?” he shrugged, as if a recommendation would have guaranteed Keiji’s choice.
“Um… well yeah I guess.”
Beside him, his friend abandoned his popsicle for continuing to gawk at the two boys, letting it drip over his fingers.
“Hey, apparently there are high school matches in the gym right now. Wanna check it out?”
Considering he saw the two boys from Fukurodani Academy, Keiji had no doubt they would be playing. Since he had thought of applying there, he could not think of any reason to refuse. It would be interesting to see who all would be there the following year.
Should he choose to go.
“Sure, why not?”
After tossing his popsicle stick into the trash, his friend shoved the glass doors open, engulfing the two of them in the crowd’s cheers. He had played for a decently strong team, there was no doubt about it. However, high school was on a different level entirely. The cheering team of his middle school would not be able to make a dent on this ambience.
After Akaashi reached the railing overlooking the courts, he spared a glance in the direction of the audience. Behind the two of them, the crowd beat their cones against each other to accompany their deafening cheers to lift their team.
Before turning towards the courts, Akaashi studied the pale blue and grey uniforms of the students cheering in the stands. Since there were many schools there, he would not have been able to make out which school they were from. However, he turned back and looked over the railing, seeing the name of the school on their banner.
“One Ball, Heart, and Soul”, with “Fukurodani” lurking in the corner.
What a coincidence.
“Akaashi-kun! Look, they're gonna spike!”
Tearing his gaze away from the audience, Akaashi watched as the ball arced from one side end of the net to the other, approaching a spiker with the number “12” splayed across his muscular back. He wore knee pads which reached to the middle of his thighs, relinquishing the smallest slice of skin when he crouched for his jump. But even through the dark fabric, each cord of muscle working like a well oiled machine.
As Akaashi watched him approach the ball, everything else withered away from his sight. All he could see was the solitary spiker flying beside the net. That body held an intensity that made Akaashi’s hands itch to be there beside him.
Number 12 seemed to have the presence of the sun, shining brighter than any player Akaashi had seen. The light emanating from him reflected off his teammates, the audience, and even his opponents.
The rational part of Akaashi’s mind reminded him that time had not really halted. However, Number 12 seemed to hover in the air as if those rules did not apply to him.
As the referee’s whistle cut through the air like a knife, Akaashi shook the mirage out of his mind, taken aback by the loud cheers of the crowd behind him.
Number 12’s roar rang through the arena, his voice surprisingly deep even for a high-schooler. It teetered over the edge of a cheer and an animalistic growl. To him, being on the court seemed to be an integral yet simple part of his world, as natural as breathing.
“Oi, Akaashi-kun.”
Glancing toward his friend, he saw a passed down reflection of the same passion in his eyes, and had no doubt he was the same.
“Wasn’t that awesome?! He got past those blocks like they were nothing!”
“Yeah…” he muttered, turning back to the court as Number 12’s teammates ruffled his speckled, spiky hair, making the strands fall out of place. “He was pretty amazing.”
-
Fukurodani.
That name lingered in his mind more than he cared to admit. At first, it was simply another high school for him to consider. Now, he found himself standing in a corridor filled to the brim with kids between 15-18, all in the pale blues and greys of the Fukurodani uniform.
After navigating his way from the train station closest to the school, he found himself frozen on the pavement outside the school.
Since he had accepted his offer for Fukurodani, there was a magma chamber full of emotions slowly filling. His expectations were strangely high, even though he had reminded himself not that much would be different since he had not changed within a solitary spring break.
Standing before the gate as students filed through it in front of him, a crack had appeared, letting all his thoughts out like viscous and dense lava. As much as he would care to admit otherwise, at the vanguard stood anticipation. However it did not stem solely from it being his first day of high school, but with the grey haired boy from the volleyball tournament.
As much as Akaashi had wanted to see that boy,
the day had been mostly occupied with a tour of their new school, and Akaashi could not help but admit that the infrastructure was truly amazing. Like most school tours, it started out with the most important areas. The outdoor and indoor theatre, the main gym, the labs and club rooms, an absolutely breathtaking library, and finally the classrooms.
No one from his middle school seemed to be in his class, or in his year in fact.
Good.
Not that he had anything against them, but he did not have a special connection with any of them. It would be better for him to be exposed to an entirely new crowd. A fresh start.
Most of his teachers were quite pleasant, slightly less overbearing than they were in his middle school. However, the importance of studying was not something they put lightly. In fact most of the conversation with each teacher had included that specific phrase multiple times.
During the lunch break, Akaashi took the opportunity to truly bask in being in a classroom of such a sought after high school. Now that he was there, it was difficult to argue against popular opinion.
His classroom was far larger than the one he had in middle school. The floors were a darker wood panelling, and the chairs and desks far sturdier. Large windows to the left bathed the entire room in a flood of sunlight, giving the room a far more cheerful atmosphere. There was a smartboard at the front of the classroom, beside the teacher’s desk which was orderly decorated with required stationary. On his right, on the side of the class door, there were cubby holes with files, paper, stationary and an area where students could keep their bags and bottles. The wall at the back of the classroom was covered with two large pin boards, both of which were currently empty. Acknowledging past experience, there would likely be a class president who would assign groups to decorate them.
The entire class was filled with milling students, sitting around with their food. Their voices permeated the air, creating a familiar and comforting environment. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a group of girls whispering in a tight circle, looking towards him. Hastily avoiding eye contact, he stood up and walked out of the class, feeling their eyes boring into the back of his skull.
From the tour in the morning, Akaashi knew the other classrooms were more or less identical to this one, and felt reassured in his decision of picking the right school.
Although Akaashi did not really care for other subjects aside from Japanese and English, he knew he had to excel in them to get where he wanted to. It was a pain in the ass, but less annoying than not being able to attend the university of his choice.
Now that there was nothing but the last class of the day to look forward to, he let his mind wander as he scanned the different faces in the hallway. Not a single of the faces, builds, or hair, matched the one he had seen at the match a few weeks ago.
Unfortunately, it was not long before the bell resonated in the bright hallways. Almost immediately, he had to tune back distractions from his brain as he sat back in class. Thankfully, the final class was Japanese Literature, which was not easy to lose interest in.
Before he knew it, the classes for the day were over, and the students all dismissed to enrol in the clubs of their choice. Having already filled out his form for the volleyball club, he simply had to find the manager or the captain to hand it over. When he could not find his way, as a last resort he gently tapped the arm of a chestnut haired girl far shorter than him engaged in conversation with another boy.
“Um, hi. Could you tell me where I can find the volleyball team?”
She whipped around far quicker than Akaashi anticipated, her ponytail smacking his face even as he backed away.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” She chirped, an apologetic smile on her face as she shifted her hands through her ponytail. “Are you looking for the volleyball club?”
“Yeah.”
“What a coincidence! Come on, come with me.” She said with confidence, gently grabbing his arm as she began leading him away. Even though her hand did not touch his skin, it made his skin crawl unpleasantly. It took everything in his power not to snatch his hand out of her grip.
As he stumbled behind her, he could not help but ask, “Uh, who are you?”
“Oh! I’m the manager for the volleyball team. Actually, that’s not right. I’m ONE of the managers. The other i- Wait you know what, you’ll see.”
Sensing a tone of finality in her words, he did not press for more answers.
“Okay here we are. C’mon guys let’s go!”
As she let go of his arm, Akaashi took the opportunity to look around him, finding a group of two others beside him.
Following the chestnut-haired girl in the gym clothes, Akaashi could not help but twitch from excitement as he was led to the team. Throughout his years of playing volleyball, he could not recall the last time he was so eager. He had gone through all those years doing what was expected of him and his position, nothing more and nothing else.
However, Akaashi was reminded of the snippet of the game he had seen last year, and found a part of him hoping that Number 12 would still be here. His physique had given no hints on which year he belonged to, making Akaashi hope he was a first or second year.
It would be foolish for Keiji to have based his decision on a high school entirely due to the presence of a peculiar player. On the other hand, he convinced himself it was because of the extensively large campus with its resources and excellent teachers.
No, it definitely was not Number 12.
“Manager-san?” squeaked a boy beside him, a tell-tale blush on his face as he spoke to the good-looking girl.
“Th-that spiker from last year’s game. I-is he still in th-the team?”
“Oh do you mean Bokuto Koutarou?” beamed the manager, “Oh yeah! He’s a second year now!”
Unlike himself, Akaashi felt the tension from his body melt away without having realised it was there in the first place. His steps seemed a little lighter as his mind put a name on the spiker who had made his mark in Keiji’s mind.
Beside him, he could hear the two others’ distant whispers of which he could only catch the words, “amazing”, “powerful”, and “loud”.
After a moment’s thought, the manager tilted her head with an embarrassed smile and said, “Please, call me Shirofuku! We’re going to be part of the same team, you don’t have to be so formal.”
As her eyes skimmed over the small trio of students, they made contact with Akaashi’s. Somehow sensing the renewed enthusiasm within him, she beamed at him, making her large eyes curve into crescent moons. Beside himself, he found himself returning it with a small smile of his own.
“I’m glad there are a few of you guys this year. The team could always do with some new talent.” she remarked, turning towards the front as they arrived at the door leading to the gymnasiums. “We don’t have as many members as other schools in Tokyo, even though our team is pretty strong. It only started standing out recently.”
I wonder why
Pushing open the double doors from within the pale marble tiled hallways, Shirofuku let in a wide column of the spring sun beam into the closed space. Although it was not cold, the sun brought a welcoming warmth as Keiji’s fingers had begun freezing as he habitually played with them.
However, they were not in the sun for long as the path they walked through was covered with a slate grey steel covering till they reached the gym. The sides for the most part, were bare, allowing Akaashi a view of the large campus as the other students assimilated into their clubs. Besides the gymnasium they seemed to be heading towards, the other large enclosures around them housed other teams, no doubt basketball being one of them. After football, basketball seemed to be the most popular sport, with volleyball (although popular) not even making it to the top 5.
The walk was not long as it seemed the volleyball club was in the first gymnasium.
“Okay! Here we are!“ chirped the manager,
”How about we meet the rest of the team?”
Around him were a few other first-years muttering a few words of acknowledgement as Shirofuku opened the gymnasium doors. Following this was an agitated scramble as Akaashi and the others changed from their normal sneakers to the volleyball shoes. At this point, since the action was practically instinctual, Keiji let his mind wander, only to find it steered towards Bokuto Koutaro, who he knew would be in the gym practising.
Quite unlike himself, he felt that same itch return, more prominent than ever.
While they had been changing their shoes, Shirofuku must have entered the gym, since he heard the coach’s whistle, followed by shuffling footsteps.
“Alright, you guys can come in now!”
Sucking in a deep breath, Akaashi shut his eyes momentarily to banish all thoughts from his mind, hoping the butterflies would disappear.
The interior of the hardwood gym was flooded with sunlight through unreachable windows, giving everything a golden glow. A group of students, no doubt the rest of the volleyball team, bunched up on the side. For his own sake, he avoided glancing their way, afraid of seeing speckled grey hair on a head atop muscular shoulders.
“Welcome, first years!” Bellowed the aged coach heartily. The voice and demeanour reminded Akaashi that he had in fact seen the coach at the game a few months ago. Although his physique may have passed for intimidating, the smile lines around his sparkling eyes said otherwise. Not to mention the unforgettable chest bump with Bokuto Koutaro in the midst of the game.
Like the boys Akaashi had seen earlier this year, the coach wore a similar tracksuit, its black lines somehow sleeker. “I’m the coach of the volleyball team, Yamiji Takeyuki. Why don’t you go around introducing yourselves? Your name and what position you played in middle school.”
Looking to his right, Akaashi realised he would be last amongst the three of them. Unable to suppress his excitement, he drew in a deep breath as the first person stepped forward.
In the time it took for him to exhale, it seemed to be his turn already.
“I am Akaashi Keiji from Mori Middle School. I played setter. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He declared.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw a familiar speckled head perk up from the cluster a few steps away from the coach.
“Ah! Another setter! We’ll see how you fit in with the team soon enough.” Acknowledged the coach, gleefully clasping his hands together. Akaashi would be lying if he said he did not see relief in the coach’s eyes when the three of them had walked in.
“For today, I would like you to watch the second and third years practice, just so that you can get comfortable with the drills and atmosphere.” Stated the coach, walking towards the basket brimming with balls. “From tomorrow, you will join in, and we’ll begin to figure out different strategies with the new players.”
Nodding their heads in affirmation, the three of them shuffled towards the opposite side of the court as the others began practising.
It seemed, somehow in the last few months, Bokuto Koutaro had managed to gain some more muscle. Already gifted with a height which would be considered a blessing for many, it seemed a little unfair the universe decided to grant him ease in building muscle.
Even though it was just routine practice, it was difficult for Akaashi to take his eyes off of him. Although not plausible, it was as if siren charms seeped through the cracks of his smile and the furrow of his brows, momentarily causing all else to disappear. Through the afternoon’s practice, the fire in Bokuto’s eyes did not dampen even in the slightest. The same burning passion which Akaashi had seen during the match. He seemed to be someone who devoted their very soul into what they did.
After the initial astonishment of seeing Bokuto Koutaro again, Keiji had managed to calm himself enough to perform his role without a hitch. The whiplash of going from one of the oldest in his team to the youngest was short lived, for there was a very occasional instance where the others treated him that way. Of course there was an unavoidable gap in their experiences, but went unacknowledged since they seemed to assume Akaashi knew what he was doing.
Practice seemed to fly by rather quickly, and although he was not asked to, he lent a hand in cleaning the court. In the middle of mopping, just as he was admiring the shine on the well maintained hardwood, he was interrupted by none other than Bokuto Koutaro.
Surprisingly, he approached Akaashi gingerly, all of his previous confidence gone, hands behind his back as he watched his fiddling feet.
“Hey, uh… Akashi-kun-”
“It’s Akaashi.” He blurted out, internally astonished as he instinctively interrupted Bokuto Koutaro.
As if he took no mind, Bokuto’s face went blank as he tilted it ever so slightly to the right. This time, he stared straight at him, leaving Akaashi’s eyes no room to wander.
“Could you help me practice spikes for just a little bit?”
Instantly, Akaashi’s mind flashed back to the performance he had seen in the match and in practice, the voice in his mind chanting, ‘say yes .’ The butterflies in his stomach swooped in as he heard Bokuto’s shoes squeak on the floor he had just cleaned.
Just a few weeks ago, he had allowed his mind to wander, wondering what it would be like to stand beside a star player on the court. There really had been no one like him before, but Akaashi was sure he would meet more if he took this opportunity.
Volleyball may not have been his passion but there was nothing wrong with being good at it.
“Sure.”
Whooping in delight, Bokuto Koutaro skipped off towards the bunch of water bottles near the benches. As Akaashi went to place the mop in the cabinet, he observed the second and third years sparing him sympathetic and pitiful glances, although he could not figure out why.
One of the second years, Konoha Akinori, approached him, sticking out his hand in which a single key dangled from his finger.
“Don’t forget to lock up after you’re done.” Konoha reminded him, looking amusingly over Akaashi’s shoulder at Bokuto Koutarou. “I’d give him the keys but he’d probably lose them. You seem responsible enough though. Just uh.. go home on time okay? Don’t overdo it!”
Unable to glean anything from the myriad of statements, Akaashi was left alone to ponder over his senior’s words. Was Bokuto really that irresponsible that his classmates trusted Akaashi, a first year they had just met, over him?
However, it became apparent soon enough.
In the beginning, the gym was filled with the comfortable silence as the two of them concentrated on their respective roles, exchanging occasional tips and corrections. Being a quiet only child, there really was really nothing else that could put him at ease. However, as time went on, Akaashi could feel his arms beginning to ache from the neverending string of tosses. He would have killed to have some music playing.
Nearly two hours later, Akaashi wiped the sweat from his brow, having seen Bokuto Koutaro spike ball after ball showing little to no signs of weariness. Panting, he bent over, supporting his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.
“Nice kill…” he murmured, at the very least acknowledging the spiker who had asked him to practice. More like a monster, than anything else.
“Akashi!!”
“It’s Akaashi-” began Keiji, lifting himself up once more to see Bokuto Koutaro approaching him with what seemed to be the widest smile in his repertoire.
“Your tosses are the best!” he panted, paying no mind to the sweat trickling down his face.
Taken aback by the sudden confession, Akaashi found himself at a loss for words and could do nothing but stare back at the 16 year old. No one had ever complimented him so blatantly before, and he felt an unexpected surge of warmth spread from his chest, all the way up to his face. Luckily, the sweat from practice disguised the rush of blood to his cheeks. Not that Bokuto was paying any attention.
After a point, he realised it would be both rude and dismissive if he did not say anything. However, the problem which towered above him was that he could not think of any words to say.
No doubt confounded by the silence, Bokuto opened his eyes and gazed expectantly at him.
“Ah… sure.” he blurted out instinctively, poised to turn away if need be.
Disappointed with his answer, Bokuto pouted, and Akaashi could swear the speckled spikes of hair seemed to droop along with it.
“Could you sound a bit more fired up…”
Blinking blankly at Bokuto, Keiji evaluated the possible responses to that, but could not conclude whether any of them would end in a satisfying way.
“Uhm.. sorry?”
Tilting his head, Bokuto studied him curiously.
Up close, Akaashi realised his eyes truly were a peculiar shade. Earlier he had thought the sunlight flowing through the windows had caused them to appear lighter than they truly were. However, staring into them was like staring into a ring of molten gold, almost bright enough to blind him. Akaashi knew it would not be difficult to lose track of time and simply lose himself into those unsettling eyes which seemed to mimic the pulsating of cooling metal the longer he stared into them.
After what seemed like an infinite moment, Bokuto finally straightened up, pushing back his shoulders as he started backing away. For a second, he was scared that the older boy might have found his behaviour peculiar, but he did not seem to make any indication of it.
“Thanks for practising with me!” He blurted out, just as abruptly as last time, before turning on his heel and beginning to scoop up the scattered volleyballs.
Unwilling to break the comfortable silence which had swept into the gym with the evening air, Akaashi assisted Bokuto in cleaning up the court without another word exchanged between them. Far more than before, he found his gaze lingering on Bokuto, who seemed to be lost within his own thoughts, in all probability reflecting over the evening’s practice.
Although it started with a critique of his own performance and how much his muscles ached from the hours of drawn out torture, he quickly moved past those. He could not, for the love of god, figure out the person before him. Even as Akaashi watched him, there seemed to be no thoughts expressed on his face, or far too many simultaneously.
On the outside, it was easy to declare that Bokuto held volleyball exceedingly close to his heart. The longer Akaashi spent with him, the more apparent it became. However, there was not a single person on this planet that was that simple. Everyone had their nuances, and usually their behaviour betrayed it.
Of course he had barely spent 4 hours with him, most of which was occupied with physical activity, however not knowing much about Bokuto unsettled him.
He wanted to change that.
Just as they had finished, the two of them stood outside the gymnasium doors as Bokuto stared at the door with a look of intense concentration.
“Akashi...” he muttered, turning to face the first year, his golden eyes dulled with embarrassment to a sombre amber shade.
“It’s Akaashi…” Murmured Keiji half-heartedly, however Bokuto did not seem to hear him.
“I forgot to ask for the keys...” He pouted, fiddling with the lock on the door as he turned away from Keiji.
“Oh, Konoha-san gave them to me before practice.”
Letting out a large sigh of relief, Bokuto skipped away from the door, letting Akaashi step forward and lock it.
“Akashi, do you take the train home?”
Involuntarily, Keiji’s hand jerked, making the keys miss the lock by a large margin.
“Er, yes.”
“Oh! Me too! Let’s go together!” He cheered, tugging on Akaashi’s jacket, not relinquishing even a moment for Keiji to reply.
Barely having removed the keys from the lock, he got no more than a second to check whether he had locked it properly before he was being dragged away by Bokuto.
They walked back through the covered pathways made outside to the main school building. There were no doubt side entrances to the school, however considering the time they must all be locked. Since he was still unfamiliar with the school’s layout, he let Bokuto lead the way out.
Having been at the school for only a day, Akaashi found the ghostly silence strangely comforting. Since he was an only child, he was no stranger to silence. It was a constant companion and gave him room to think. After 3rd grade, he learned to cherish it.
The only sounds which could be heard in the entire vicinity were of their footsteps and the rustle of their clothing. Akaashi had no doubt there ought to be some students still in the library, since it was kept open to students till 8 pm. However, the students, if any, made no indication they were present.
The hallways through which he had traversed just this morning took on a silvery glow as they were bathed in moonlight. It was a stark contrast to the warm lighting which the hallways were lit up with during the day. Moonlight however, seemed to have a transformative power of making everything he had already seen look strangely different. Curious, Akaashi looked at Bokuto’s hair, and then to the moon, finding the pearly shade undistinguishable.
“Akashi?” blurted out Bokuto, eyes still fixated ahead. After a moment of contemplation, Akaashi deemed it unlikely Bokuto had caught him staring and decided there was no harm in answering.
“Yes, Bokuto-san?”
“Is there something on my face?” He asked, turning towards him quizzically. Genuinely confused, his lips were curled into a pout as he tried to wipe the non-existent dirt from his face.
Averting his gaze furtively, Akaashi took a sudden interest in observing the font of the signs which labelled each classroom.
“No, there’s nothing.” He answered quickly, silently dreading the question that would follow. Although it was too late, he prayed to the gods, any of whom were willing to hear him out, to distract Bokuto.
“Oh, okay… Uh, anyway, where do you live?”
Taken aback by the sudden dismissal, Akaashi felt as if the universe was toying with him. Unfortunately for him, it was not a benevolent power which could normally be ignored, but a living breathing person who was the only one beside him in a secluded hallway.
“Not far from my middle school. It’s about 15 minutes by train from here.”
“Aaaahh it takes me 10, yours must be a couple of stops after mine.” He pondered. “Isn’t that kinda far though, why’d you come all the way here?”
It was a question he had already been asked a lot. However, it was his first time being asked by the very person who had tipped the scales in Fukurodani’s favour.
“I got a recommendation, I had also heard the teachers were quite good.” Recited Akaashi, deciding not to stray from his normal response.
“Woah you got a recommendation? You must be really smart!”
“I’d like to think that.” sighed Akaashi as they stepped out of the school building. Only after they stepped out onto the asphalt road did he realise he had said that out loud.
Bashful, he observed Bokuto out of the corner of his eye, but it seemed he had either not heard Keiji, or did not think much of it.
Already aware of where the station was, his protests were ignored as Bokuto insisted on walking with him. After a few halfhearted tries, Akaashi let the thought slip from his mind. Although he knew he could possibly contribute to any conversation, it seemed Bokuto was just as willing to accompany him in silence.
Living in Tokyo, even if it was the outskirts, there was always too much light from the city to unveil the stars completely. On the other hand, nothing seemed to stop the moon.
If the hallway had looked different, the streets were eerier. Of course Akaashi knew they would begin to crowd as soon as they distanced themselves from the school. Until then, it felt as if Akaashi and Bokuto were the sole inhabitants of this small and silent world.
Along with the rustling of the leaves, Bokuto’s cheer-y whistles filled the air. He had an unusual manner of placing the sling of his bag along his forehead, pushing his spiked hair away from his face and leaving his hands free. Even as they approached the station and the mirage of their silent world was broken, Bokuto continued holding it in that peculiar way, ignoring the looks others were giving him.
Considering the time, it was likely there were many adults heading home at the same time, so it was a miracle the two of them could find seats. Once they did, Akaashi sank into it gratefully, with Bokuto sitting utterly attentive.
“So Akaashi, how did I do today?” he asked quietly, his voice somehow still cutting through the babble of the adults around them.
Taking a moment to ponder over their practice period, Akaashi did not give him an answer straight away. It was not because it took him time to remember, but because he did not know how to frame the words.
“Bokuto-san, do you not like hitting straights?” he asked tentatively, not looking towards him just yet. “Majority of your spikes after you synced with my tosses were cross shots. It didn’t look like you hit any straight shots which were avoidable.”
Pouting, Bokuto looked down at his lap, his hands fiddling with a small keychain on his bag.
“My cross shots are way better. My straights hit the net a lot in matches, so I just hit cut shots.” he explained, not without shame. “I know I should probably work on them, but I didn’t feel like messing up today.”
“If the other team catches onto your dislike for straight shots, they’ll give up on blocking straights and block your cross hits.” Countered Akaashi. “It would be really difficult to earn points that way, won’t it?”
Frowning, Bokuto’s posture began to droop, with his spiky hair no longer standing proud, instead beginning to go limp. With a grimace, Akaashi’s fingers fidgeted in agitation, hoping he had not overstepped his bounds.
“Akashi-”
“It’s Akaashi.” He corrected instinctively, immediately biting back a curse as Bokuto stared at him with conviction.
“Ah, er Akaashi-kun, before school practice starts at 7. Will you practice with me at 6?”
“Sure, Bokuto-san.”
“Ahhh, no one does extra practice with me anymore. I mean they used to in the beginning, but every time I try to look for Konoha he always disappears. The others just keep saying no all the time.”
I wonder why.
The two hours they spent with extra practice was more tiring than some matches Akaashi had played in middle school.
“You won’t say no to me, right Akaashi?”
For a moment, Akaashi sincerely contemplated saying, “no” just to see how Bokuto would react. However, he thought it was better not to joke around too much, since his hair still seemed to be dropping lower and lower.
“Sure, I’ll practice with you Bokuto-san.”
Letting out a longer “Aaah” than required, Bokuto relaxed against the glass behind his head, a content smile gracing his lips.
Of course it would be weird for him to stare, but Akaashi could not help it. With his eyes open, Bokuto seemed like a strangely vigilant person and he had not gotten the opportunity to properly look at him.
From the sliver of the match he had observed weeks ago, Akaashi’s mind had cultivated a certain image of Bokuto which had started out more or less accurately. Nevertheless, his mind could not escape the annoying habit of forgetting. Memories fade, it was only natural. So, no matter how much he wanted to, Keiji could not stretch a moment to live in it indefinitely.
In spite of that, as he sat beside Bokuto, watching as the blinding white light flowed over the curves of his face and neck, he really wished the moment could last forever.
Of course he knew next to nothing about the person sitting beside him. That did not seem to stop his heart from skipping a beat as he looked at Bokuto. Akaashi knew he was good at volleyball, but did he have to be good looking too?
Usually, as most memories go, the manner in which he recollected something seemed far more appealing than the actual event which had occurred. Bokuto’s appearance was the one exception.Fine arts had never been his forte, but if someone told him to, he would sit for hours attempting to recreate the picture before him.
Thinking nothing of it for the first five minutes, Akaashi simply went through his texts. However, as Bokuto’s stop got closer and closer, Akaashi kept glancing back at him, attempting to figure out whether he was awake or not. Unsure of whether he should chance it, Akaashi did not try to awaken him in any way until it was absolutely necessary for him to.
As the pleasant voice over the speakers announced Bokuto’s stop, Akaashi deemed it was finally time. Just as he was about to turn, Bokuto snapped up, as if contacted with an exposed wire. Left shaken from the sudden scare, Akaashi could only watch as Bokuto skipped off towards one of the now open doors before yelling over the voice of the announcer.
“See ya tomorrow, Akaashi!”
After his initial shock, he ignored the strange looks from the others around him and settled back into his seat. Considering he still had about 7 minutes to himself, he popped in his earphones and stared out of the window, a pleasant r & b song (a favourite of his father’s) echoed in his ears. Although he had been using public transport since he was in middle school, there was something mesmerizingly comforting about watching the world whip past him. It gave the illusion that he was suspended in time, with no worries or responsibilities to anchor him.
Since his middle school had been close to his home, it was only a 5 minute train ride. On the other hand, the Fukurodani campus was a good 15 minutes which he had thoroughly enjoyed in the morning. Since it was his first day, he was not entirely sure whether the light and pleasant feeling in the morning was from the thrill of a new chapter in his life or the longer train rides.
Although it was his habit to recall the school work he had from the day, he put it off for now. He did not wish to spoil his mood with thoughts about sitting behind a desk and hunched over work. It was not something he always looked forward to, despite what most teachers believed. Well, except for the book he had to read for his Literature class.
Volleyball had initially started out as a club for him, but he could not deny that it let him blow off steam in a productive manner. The last time his arms had burned from this much use was the first time he had decided to play volleyball. He could recall it, clear as day. Red speckled arms, hot sweat dripping off the ends of his dishevelled hair, and a burning in his lungs that took a few minutes to disappear. When he had caught his reflection on the side of a window, he could barely recognise himself.
His parents had instilled in him that his appearance was one of the things he should be quite careful about. So he had taken it on to be meticulous. He had an entire skin and hair care routine by the time he was beginning primary school. Of course he played with the others in his class, but nothing had ever distracted him enough to stop thinking about how he appeared to others. A mere five minutes into learning about volleyball, someone could have come up to him and asked him his name and it would have taken him a few moments to answer since he was so engrossed.
Fixations were not a very common occurrence for him.
The very first one he could remember was the time his parents read him a book to make him sleep. It was quite amusing, in hindsight, that he thought a book was something magical. To his young mind, a book was like a gateway to another dimension, except it was brought to life almost entirely by his imagination. Of course his fascination with books did not die down, and they are still items of great enthrallment for him. However, after he had started playing volleyball, he remembered his mother telling him that it was like she was reading a book to him for the first time.
He spent quite literally every spare moment of his day trying to make himself better, until he reached a point where it no longer seemed very challenging. He no longer ran out of breath. His arms no longer hurt. And there was no school they could not take on.
Of course his improvement had taken immense effort on his part, but after a point he reached a plateau and found it uniformly dull. This had taken place around his second year of middle school. Practice became a daily chore instead of a ground for him to grow on. His coach was immensely satisfied with his performance and did not seem to find any flaws in his performance, so did not push for anything more.
Akaashi was aware that he had a long way to go. He had watched professional matches, and those between high school and college students. As much as he watched their performance with admiration, he knew he did not have the kind of passion it required to reach a professional stage. For high school on the other hand, he thought it was something that could be pursued later. With no one who matched his desire to push himself, he let himself be and focused on his work instead, living comfortably on his plateau.
Today, it seemed Bokuto had smashed his fragile idea of a plateau with a sledge hammer.
It was not as if he was falling behind the other setter on the team. In fact the coach had seemed more or less satisfied with his performance.
Nevertheless, as he thought about Bokuto, his gut twisted with a myriad of emotions, and he knew he now had a reason to get better. The excitement he once felt before going to practice was now burning within him again.
Just as he was thinking about revisiting the volleyball strategy book he had bought a few years ago, the train began slowing to a stop. Tearing his eyes away from the buildings that had now begun to fly by slower, he checked the name of the stop at the sign above the door. Much to his astonishment, the bright red letters spoke of his stop, causing his eyes to flit to the clock above the screen. It seemed he had been so caught up in his own mind that he had missed the train stopping at the last two stations.
Slipping his bag back over his shoulder, he stepped out of the train and onto the deserted platform. Since it was well lit and in near perfect condition, it was eerie to see no one there. In the morning, he had barely been able to navigate through the crowd. Despite the fact that he had left his home to catch the earlier train, he had almost been shut out by the merciless steel and glass paned doors. It was far more pleasant this way, even though he may not be used to it.
As he stepped onto the street and began walking, he was hit by how empty the streets were. Before they had moved to this neighbourhood, they had lived in a bustling apartment complex which was teeming with children to the point where it seemed overpopulated. So he had once become accustomed to sounds of various households above and below him even in the dead of night.
After his mother got a promotion, they could afford a house to themselves in a more elegant neighbourhood, which was exactly what they did. So now, they lived in a small, highly sought after neighbourhood without many children. It was populated mostly by the elderly, so it was far quieter than the streets of the friends he had visited.
There were a few things that he could definitely appreciate, but there were many that he truly missed a little more with each passing day.
When they had lived in that small apartment, his parents had worked regular hours, and were there when he got back from club activities. Just their presence had helped him feel at ease, since he knew there was someone to come back to who would take care of him. Since the two of them advanced in their workplaces, smaller responsibilities, especially those he had become the most dependent on had switched to him.
Cooking dinner, washing dishes, drying and ironing clothes, even taking kitchen appliances and other devices to get them repaired. All this while keeping up with his school work had forced him to be less reliant on his parents.
Of course this did not last very long, since his mother got promoted once again and gained more flexible hours and chose to take back some of the duties from Akaashi. However, there was a tension which he did not know how to overcome, and it gnawed at his mind with each passing day.
When he reached his street, he took off the earphones, winding them up so that they would not be tangled as he put them in the pocket of his bag. At one point he had not been used to having his mother home and did not remember to take the earphones off before walking off to his room. In doing so, he upset his mother, who had so looked forward to that day, and he had come back downstairs only to find her crying.
As he walked past the other houses, he could not help but notice the signs of the occupants’ different pastimes. He knew for a fact that their neighbours to the left, a retired army general and his wife, truly loved gardening. The front and back of their home was filled with neat and orderly lines of different fruit and vegetable bearing plants. There were many times during the year they would often call on Akaashi to help them harvest some of their produce. Afterwards, they had often sent him home cooked meals with the ingredients he helped collect.
Their neighbour across the street, a judge in the court of law, was quite fond of collecting books and often lent them to Akaashi. He could still remember the first time he had stepped foot in her library. The deep oak shelves were lined exquisitely with books organised by topic. Quite often, he would walk between the shelves, savouring the way the pads of his fingers caressed over the spines of countless well kept books. There was never a time where she failed to comment on how well he took care of them each time he returned one. Each year on his birthday, she would give him a priceless volume pertaining to a topic he remembered mentioning as a passing remark in their many conversations.
To the right of their house, there was an elderly man living with his son who had a PhD in mathematics and taught at a nearby university. One of the days Akaashi had truly been struggling with his mathematics homework, he had been visiting briefly to borrow some milk. Having seen the open textbook and worksheets, he offered his help and Akaashi had been in no position to turn him down. They often sat over hot chocolate, solving problems until Akaashi had become comfortable with problems which high school seniors struggled with.
It took him time to train his mind not to wander when he did the same thing during class.
Just as he reached his house, he noticed a roll of paper beside the sidewalk which led to the main door. Scooping it up, he shuffled into the house, habitually shutting the door behind him.
From the kitchen, he could hear his parents engaged in conversation, so he called out a quick greeting as he untied his shoes. Watching his step on the slippery marble, he padded up the stairs in his socks to go change into something more comfortable. Absent-mindedly, he put on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt before grabbing a book, and made his way into the kitchen, roll of paper in hand.
From friends of his father, Akaashi had often heard that he looked very much like him. On the other hand, from his mother’s friends, he heard that he looked exactly like her. So, it was always an interesting experience whenever he met either group with both his parents beside him. It always began with an expression of shock, with their eyes nervously flit back and forth between his face and those of his parents.
His mother, unlike him, had lighter brown hair which fell in large curls over her shoulder. Her face was a little sharper, and her nose a slightly more slender. However, Keiji shared her peculiar dark blue, almond eyes. He had also inherited her more slender frame, which despite him working out did not seem to become any broader.
On the other hand, his father had smooth raven black hair which he shared with Akaashi. He was quite built in comparison to Akaashi and his mother, and shared a similar nose and jaw structure with Keiji.
However, somehow, Keiji was taller than both his parents.
At his appearance, both his parents beamed with joy, his father going so far as to pull him into a hug and ruffling his hair, which took him a moment to reciprocate.
“Keiji! How was your first day?” Cooed his mother, running her hands through his hair to fix the ruffled mess his father left behind. Behind her was a cutting board with a sharp bladed knife and a half cut carrot. Beside it, he noticed a half empty bottle of wine and two glasses filled with different levels of the cherry red liquid.
Explains the excitement.
“It was nice. I love the building, and the teachers seem great.”
“Well, as long as you’re happy, we’re happy too Kei.” Stated his father, taking a sip from his glass.
Dropping his gaze, Keiji bit his lip as he poured himself a glass of water from the refrigerator, resisting the urge to tap his fingers against the glass. As he went to sit near the island counter, he remembered the paper he had brought in from the curb.
“Oh, this was outside. I thought it might be important but I couldn’t look at it yet.” he stated, handing the paper over to his father.
Setting his glass aside, he unfurled it as Akaashi opened his book and began reading. It was a collection of short stories from the middle ages, with sentence structures that often forced him to reread the same line five times. When he encountered one such phrase, he shook his head after the third time and stared at the wall instead. The old grandfather clock mounted just outside the kitchen showed the time to be 7:26, and Keiji did a double take at his parents.
“Otou-san, I thought you’re at work till 8. Why are you home so early?”
“Wanted to be home when you came back from your first day.” He shrugged. “What kept you so long though? I thought school would end at 3:15.”
“There was club practice after school.” Akaashi replied simply as his mother gently swatted his dad on the arm.
“Akio! You know Keiji plays volleyball!”
Throwing his hands up in surrender, he gave Keiji a pleading look from behind his rectangular glasses. For a moment, Akaashi’s heart skipped a beat as he finally felt the familial banter he witnessed in the homes of his friends finally making its way into his family.
“Sorry. I-”
“It’s okay, otou-san.” Interrupted Keiji, giving his parents a small smile.
For him, the scene was quite foreign.
He was used to a lonely house, with the only sounds reaching his ears produced by him. This was a big change, but one he knew he would grow to enjoy.
The small talk continued until dinner, during which the conversation slid into work talk which Akaashi unconsciously blocked out.
At least they lasted more than twenty minutes this time.
Giving a nod and a smile in between their words, he bid his parents goodnight once he felt the last ounce of energy leave him.
After getting into bed, he could not help but go over the day, no matter how exhausted he was. And, despite himself, just as he was drifting off, a smile made itself onto his lips, lingering until the dim light of the night lamp faded into darkness.