Chapter Text
It had been three years, five months, one week and two days since Iwaizumi Hajime had become both the sole owner and single employee of Castle Books, a quiet shop tucked neatly into the center of an open-air mall. He was happy that way, he would insist to anyone who asked, it was much simpler if he just did everything himself. He never had to ask if an order had been placed, if the bills had been accounted for and paid, where that special request package had ended up; things were organized, efficient, and he didn't need any part-timers complicating his business or his life.
Of course, after three years, five months, one week and two days, he still had trouble reaching the tallest of the shelves, even with the half-broken sliding ladder as firmly in place as possible without someone to hold it. It wasn't that Hajime was short, one hundred and seventy-nine centimeters was well above average for a Japanese male in his late twenties, but if he went up even another rung, the damn thing always threw him off. After the last time Kuroo had watched him slip and fall the moment his foot touched that step while delivering a side of agedashi tofu, he'd suggested (after holding back a laugh) that maybe Iwaizumi should hire an exorcist, or at least a part-timer, to watch his back or hold the ladder down, even if the only other thing they did was man the register. Hajime had been adamant in his stance that he was fine, he didn't need anyone's help, he had everything under control, and even when he needed someone to take a couple of hours for him to sleep, his mother-in-law never minded helping out when she could. But when he finally went upstairs to bed that evening, after saying his good nights to the small altar in his living room, he started to notice again how everything was too large for just him. Two seats at the table, too many dishes for him to use, the plush mattress he'd insisted on when he'd moved was always empty on one side, and even in the shop things felt empty, despite it's small floor plan. He'd slept fitfully that night, plagued by nightmares and the faintest whisper of once kind words.
Don't go where I can't follow you, dumbass Oikawa.
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A week later, a modest hiring sign appeared in the store window, and after another week Iwaizumi removed it in order to sort through the massive stack of resumes and applications he'd received, discovering one hundred and sixteen upon counting. He set aside most of the teenaged young women nearly immediately, although he kept a small handful for consideration, many of them didn't look particularly strong enough to be carrying heavy boxes up rickety ladders and into storerooms; now that he'd decided to finally hire some help, he wasn't about to do his employees' work for them. A few of the men looked promising, but a nagging feeling kept him from looking very hard at a few of them. Probably not really interested in the work as much as the pay, Hajime mused, or the potential to meet girls in a bookstore. By the end of his deliberation, he had a small stack of fourteen call-backs, and a much smaller stack of approximately six second choices he wanted to get his mother-in-law's opinion on.
Digging his outdated phone, Hajime pulled up the familiar phone number just as he received a phone call from the woman in question. Tapping the answer button, he was greeted by the cheerful humming and lilting tones of Mrs. Oikawa Noriko, “You were just about to call me, weren't you, Hajime-chan?” She chirped over the sound of traffic retreating into the background.
“Uh, actually yeah,” he confessed, suppressing a sigh over her giggle in response. It was a little irritating, the way she spoke with such certainty and simple joy, a little nostalgic too; her son really had been just like her. “I was sorting through my applicants and wanted to ask you to take a look at my choices before I called them back.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line, a long enough one that Hajime wondered if the connection had been dropped. He waited another moment, wondering if the cause for the silence was simply dramatic effect, before clearing his throat and asking simply “Okaachan?”
“Aah,” came the slightly shaky reply, “I'm here, I'm here~” Noriko purred, tone stronger with every passing moment. “I didn't know you were looking for anyone is all! It was just such a big surprise, I didn't know what to say!”
“I'm kinda sick of being chucked off that ladder every week.”
A soft, carefree laugh curled it's way through the receiver, “right, right~, it always was finicky with you, wasn't it?” She paused again, adjusting the phone on her shoulder while Iwaizumi shuffled the papers around his desk idly. “Ne, how about I come by on my way home, sweetheart? We'll get dinner somewhere; my treat.”
“I've told you a hundred times, okaachan,” Hajime smiled, biting softly at the inside of his lip, “I don't need you spending extra on me. Come by and I'll make something for us to eat, we can go over stuff upstairs.”
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A few hours later, with the remnants of a meal left in the kitchen sink and a couple of beers between them, Noriko looked carefully over the potentials, frowning slightly. After another moment of serious contemplation, large brown eyes peeked over the top of the resume in her hands. “Hajime-chan,” she began quietly, pink cheeks and nose not giving her away in the slightest, “every single one of these people would be a terrible match for you.”
“We're not talking about my social life, okaachan!” He bellowed, slamming a hand down on the hardwood floor, wobbling slightly, “We're talking about an employee! Not a fiancee!”
Waving the resume dismissively, Mrs. Oikawa dropped the sheet of paper atop it's fellows, “even employees need chemistry, Hajime-chan. Pick someone else; you'll fight with these people, I can feeeeeel it.” Getting up slowly, Noriko ignored Iwaizumi's protests of 'be careful!' and stumbled into the kitchen for a glass of water; what would her husband think if she came home completely wasted? Steadying herself on the countertop, her hand brushed over another few sheets of paper, and as her glass filled she tried to read the neat font, or... was that handwriting? Taking a sip of water, she brought the sheet back into the living room, reading over the sparse sentences with a growing smile.
“What's that?” Hajime slurred, leaning his head back against the couch to will things to quit spinning. He didn't really care, but it wouldn't be polite of him to fall asleep with his mother-in-law still there, so best to make conversation.
“Your new part-timer,” she grinned, “Ushijima Wakatoshi.”
Hajime couldn't remember the name, let alone the face. “Who?”
“Just trust me and call him tomorrow~,” she purred in that ridiculously Oikawa way that she knew set his teeth on edge, “I've got a good feeling about this one.”
The young shop owner tried to look up at her scathingly, but found he simply didn't have the energy and settled for a long groan instead; a good feeling from an Oikawa almost always meant some sort of trouble.