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Tooru learns how soulmates work when he’s five years old, but that doesn’t mean he really understands how they work at all.
It’s dinnertime when a phone call interrupts their meal and his mother stands up to take the call. She comes back with teary eyes and announces that her sister has finally found her soulmate. His mother and father celebrate, talking about how they should invite his aunt and her soulmate over to congratulate them, but their excitement goes over Tooru’s head. Even though he knows that soulmates are supposed to be special and momentous and a really big deal, he still doesn’t really understand why.
“How did Emiri-obasan know who her soulmate is?” he asks, feeling left out of his parents’ celebration.
His mother turns to him with a soft smile, though it’s bordering on amused. “You know how I always tell you to be honest, as much as you can?” she asks, and Tooru’s eyes widen as he nods his head furiously—he can’t let her know that he still tells a few lies here and there. “Well, there are still some occasions where you lie, like when you and your father didn’t tell me about my birthday surprise last month. You didn’t lie because you wanted to hide something bad from me, but because you wanted my present to be a surprise, right?” She stops for a moment when his father’s hand seizes and his spoon clanks against his bowl. “Well, your father couldn’t exactly hide it from me.”
Tooru glances between his parents, but he still feels like he’s out of the loop. He wishes his parents would be more straightforward with him; it would make things much easier.
“Your father and I are soulmates,” his mother continues as she settles her attention back onto Tooru, “so that means he can’t lie to me, which makes things like hiding a birthday present really hard.”
It takes a moment for the pieces to come together in Tooru’s head, but when it finally does he shouts, “You told mom about the surprise!” and points an accusatory finger at his father. He recalls celebrating his mother’s birthday last month only to feel less than satisfied when she didn’t react as exuberantly as he hoped to the surprise. Now, he knows exactly who to blame!
His father snorts into his hand before schooling his expression. “I am very sorry, Tooru,” he says, and Tooru considers giving him some leeway since he actually sounds regretful about the whole thing, “but like your mother said, it is very hard to lie to your soulmate. Well, you can’t lie to your soulmate at all, actually.”
Tooru pulls his face back at the new information. “You can’t lie to your soulmate?” His nose wrinkles as the annoyance at his father’s betrayal slowly melts away into curiosity about this whole soulmate-lying situation.
He doesn’t see why he can’t lie to his soulmate when he’s lied to other people before. He told his teacher that he didn’t keep the bug he found outside during playtime and he told his father that the scuff marks on his new school shoes weren’t his fault. It seems pretty easy to lie to people, so he wonders why he can’t lie to his soulmate.
His mother doesn’t give him much of an answer when all she says is, “No, you can’t lie to your soulmate.”
Tooru narrows his eyes. “Even if you try really hard?”
His mother lets out a small laugh, the corners of her eyes wrinkling as she smiles. “Yes, even if you try really hard.”
She turns her smile toward his father and reaches out to grab his hand. They gaze at each other for a short while, exchanging a look that Tooru doesn’t understand.
He feels left out again.
—
Tooru lies a lot.
He tries not to lie about big things—he still wants to keep his no-lying promise to his mother, at least to some extent—but he does sneak in a small lie every once in a while, just to see if he can.
“I like your dress,” he tells a girl at school even though he thinks purple is an ugly color.
“I don’t like milk,” he insists even though he really does want to trade his orange juice for the boy’s milk.
“I like cats,” he says even though he thinks cats are sort of creepy and he definitely doesn’t want to go to his classmate’s house to see his new pet cat.
He’s able to tell lies all the time. It’s sort of exhausting, thinking up a lie just to see what will happen. He still doesn’t really understand what it means to not be able to lie to someone, even when he tries really hard to lie because he’s been able to lie to everyone freely. He figures that means none of them are his soulmate, but still, it doesn’t make sense. He can’t really imagine wanting to tell a lie but not being able to, but he supposes he’ll find out eventually, hopefully, when he meets his soulmate.
—
Tooru lies to Iwa-chan for the first time when they are eight years old. It’s in the aftermath of a particularly grueling math test and Iwa-chan decides to come up to him and ask how he thinks he’s done, as if it isn’t already obvious he’s done awfully. It’s almost a gut reaction to tell Iwa-chan that he’s failed, but he remembers the warning from his parents to do well on his upcoming tests due to his dipping grades or he has to spend the time he saves for volleyball to study.
“I did great!” he exclaims, or so he wanted to, but instead, his mouth says, “I did so bad!”
Iwa-chan seems just as surprised as him at the honesty. “Oh,” he mumbles, then sits down beside him. He opens his lunch box and offers a tangerine. “I can help you study for the next one, if you want.”
Tooru can’t help the way his blush travels quickly to his cheeks, bright and red and flushed. He wants to stick his tongue out and tell Iwa-chan that he doesn’t need help from a dummy like him, but instead he says, “I need help from you.”
It takes a moment for his own words to sink in before he stands up with his fists curled at his side. In his frustration he lets out a scream, muffled and small so he doesn’t get in trouble, but still enough to let some steam out. He knows Iwa-chan is staring at him, most likely wondering why he’s in the company of someone so strange, but he sits back down and stares Iwa-chan in the face, confused yet determined.
“I really like you,” he announces.
He doesn’t really pay attention to the way Iwa-chan’s eyes blow wide open, too busy frowning at how he meant to say, “I really don’t like you.”
—
Tooru doesn’t lie as much anymore after finding out Iwa-chan is his soulmate. He tells the girls in his class that he doesn’t like them at all and shouts at the boys when they want to take Iwa-chan away to play with them instead. His mother finds it cute until he turns eleven and it’s all of the sudden mean and disrespectful, but Tooru doesn’t really care as long as he gets to be by Iwa-chan’s side.
But that’s a lie. Tooru does care about all the girls and boys suddenly flocking to Iwa-chan when they start middle school. The girls think Iwa-chan is so cool when he plays volleyball and all the boys want to beat him when they found out he’s good at anything sports-related. In the end, Iwa-chan never really spends more time with them than he does with Tooru, but it still annoys him because it’s been a handful of years and Iwa-chan still doesn’t seem to know that they’re soulmates.
No matter how many times Tooru brings up soulmates and lying, the hints fly over Iwa-chan’s dumb head and all he ever gets back in response is a light chasting: “You shouldn’t tease about soulmate stuff, Trash-kawa. You’re going to get in trouble one day if you keep joking about it!”
There are times when he gets so frustrated at Iwa-chan’s obliviousness that he just wants to run right up to him and shout into his face that they’re soulmates, but something always stops him. Well, he knows what that something is, but he won’t admit out loud that he’s scared, terrified of what Iwa-chan’s reaction may be to the idea of them being soulmates.
He knows all of Iwa-chan’s name-calling and shoving is friendly, but then again, maybe that’s why he’s so hesitant to say anything at all to Iwa-chan, because all it is is friendly. He doesn’t want to stop being friendly with Iwa-chan, and there’s always a part of him, buried deep inside him somewhere, that reminds him that being soulmates can change a lot, even between best friends.
So, he stays quiet.
—
Tooru doesn’t lie to Iwa-chan, at least not often, but there are times when he really wants to, if only his traitorous mouth would let him tell a white lie instead of spilling the truth without his permission; but in the end, he’s fine with it because usually, the truth is harmless. This time around, though, he thinks he lets out too much.
“Why are you practicing so late?” Iwa-chan asks one night, two weeks into their third year of middle school.
Tooru startles at Iwa-chan’s voice, missing his serve completely. He’s a little annoyed since he felt like this serve was the one, the one that was going to be perfect, but when he turns to face Iwa-chan and sees his narrowed, accusatory eyes, he forgets about his perfect serve completely.
“I’m not,” he denies, though his mouth ends up blurting, “I don’t want to be replaced by a first year like I replaced the setter in our first year.”
He watches the ball roll away from his failed serve, staring at it until it stops completely. He doesn’t want to look at Iwa-chan, too afraid of what exactly he’ll see. For the most part, Iwa-chan is supportive, if not a little barbaric and loud about it sometimes, but he also knows that Iwa-chan doesn’t like it when he gets like this, too caught up that he gets tunnel vision. Iwa-chan never says anything too mean to him, at least not anything that he means seriously, but even still, he’s afraid of what Iwa-chan will say now, as he unwillingly shares a part of his fears with him.
“You’re a good setter.”
Tooru whips his head to Iwa-chan who is still at the doorway to the gym, leaning against the frame with nonchalance, as if he didn’t just drop the biggest compliment in the world. Sure, Iwa-chan always lets him know when a set is good and great and awesome, but he has never just outright told him that he’s a good setter. A part of him wants to call him out, test the universe and see if Iwa-chan can really lie to him, but he thinks that’s cruel, even for him; yet, something inside him simmers, now not only torn at desperately wanting Iwa-chan to know they are soulmates but also wanting to know if Iwa-chan really does think he’s a good setter. He blames years of failed hints and the stupid soulmate-defining universe for what he blurts out next:
“Hajime,” he says, and the name slips out so freely that they both flush at the sound of it. Their gazes meet, both wide-eyed and embarrassed, but he powers through it because the question on the tip of his tongue has been aching to be asked for the last handful of years and he’s tired of waiting. “Have you ever lied to me?”
Iwa-chan looks at him like he’s finally lost it—his brain, his common sense, his sanity—but he still answers the question. “No,” he says after a belated breath. “No, I’ve never lied to you.”
“Oh.” Tooru doesn’t know why he sounds so disappointed. He should be glad that Iwa-chan hasn’t even tried lying to him. After all, honesty is a good trait in a friend.
Iwa-chan looks confused at Tooru’s disappointment, but instead of asking him about it, he just says, “I don’t really see the point in lying to you.” He shrugs his shoulders, easy and nonchalant, before he pauses with a furrow in his brow. “Wait, how many times have you lied to me?”
Tooru can’t help the way his frustration begins to unravel, building up and up until it bursts out of him. “None!” he exclaims, throwing his hands into the air before crossing them against his chest and pouting.
“None?” Iwa-chan echoes, unable to hide his surprise. “Have you ever tried lying to me?”
Tooru was expecting this question, but he still wants to deny Iwa-chan an answer. It wouldn’t be fair to him, though, he knows this, so he breathes out all the air in his lungs and lets the truth wash over him. “Yes,” he answers, because he can’t lie to his soulmate.
“And it worked?”
Tooru takes his time to answer. He wonders how much their friendship will change once Iwa-chan knows they are soulmates. He looks up at the bright lights on the gymnasium ceiling and demands to the universe that when Iwa-chan finds out they’re soulmates, only good things will happen, nothing bad.
He takes a deep breath and says, “No.”
Iwa-chan blinks at him. “No?”
Tooru tries not to be frustrated at Iwa-chan’s disbelief—is it really that hard to believe they’re soulmates? “No,” he says in lieu of shouting at him, “it’s never worked on you. No matter how hard I try, I always end up telling you the truth. It’s kind of annoying, actually.” He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, though he makes it a point not to look at Iwa-chan. “I can never get anything past you.”
Iwa-chan makes a humming noise, then says, “But you don’t have to say anything for me to know what you’re thinking. You’re kind of an open book.”
Tooru wonders if Iwa-chan is actually much denser than he realized or if he’s being exceptionally cruel because it seems too much of a charade for Iwa-chan to not be able to read between the lines and understand that he’s saying that they’re soulmates.
“Iwa-chan,” he starts, then pouts when all Iwa-chan does is raise an eyebrow, “are you being mean or stupid?”
Iwa-chan’s face pulls back and without so much as a pause, he stomps over to Tooru and flicks him on the forehead. “What the hell?” he asks, making something of an affronted noise before rolling his eyes. “Where the hell did that come from?”
“It’s a real question!” Tooru exclaims, and maybe his stomping feet, red face, and loud outburst finally gets through Iwa-chan’s thick skull because he steps back with wide eyes. “I can’t tell if you’re messing with me or not! I’m telling you that I can’t lie to you, even when I’ve actually lied to you. I can tell a lie, but my mouth will just tell the truth even when I don’t want it to! I can’t lie to you, Iwa-chan!”
Iwa-chan’s face twists and contorts with each word Tooru says until it finally rests in a frustratingly neutral expression. Tooru wants to scream again, shout at the universe for giving him such a dumb soulmate, or maybe just yell at himself for not being able to straightforwardly tell Iwa-chan that they’re soulmates. He sees Iwa-chan open and close his mouth, like he’s trying to find the words to respond to him, and he wonders if Iwa-chan is going to say that he doesn’t believe him or doesn’t want him as a soulmate or that he’s actually a pretty good liar, given the circumstances, but what Iwa-chan actually says shocks him.
“I like you.”
Tooru expects Iwa-chan to continue—tell him that he’s able to lie and that there’s no way they’re soulmates—but Iwa-chan stands with his mouth open and eyes wide, like he can’t believe what he just said. It only takes a moment for him to understand why Iwa-chan is so surprised at his own words when he’s the one who said them.
“You just lied, didn’t you?” he asks, breathy as he tries to speak over his beating heart.
Iwa-chan looks at a loss for words again. “How did you know I lied?”
Tooru takes a relieved breath when Iwa-chan confirms his suspicions, but his heart beats faster when the realization that Iwa-chan didn’t lie sinks in. “I did the same thing when I thought we were soulmates,” he answers, and he smiles a little at the memory of his younger self, too caught up in the moment to realize maybe announcing his dislike for someone he thinks is his soulmate isn’t actually a good idea at all. “I wanted to say ‘I don’t like you’ and ended up saying ‘I like you’ instead.”
A part of him wants to feel relieved that he’s able to get the one thing he’s kept from Iwa-chan off his chest, but when he looks at Iwa-chan, all he sees is a furrowed brow and tight lips. He wonders if his fears are coming true, that when Iwa-chan goes to speak, everything about their relationships and friendship will change. Maybe that’s why he doesn’t ask Iwa-chan what he thinks about them being soulmates: there’s no certainty that he’ll get the answer that he wants. He takes a shaky breath but doesn’t say anything, just stays quiet and lets both of them stew in the heavy silence they created.
“How come you didn’t tell me?” Iwa-chan asks, speaking into the tense air with a quiet voice.
Tooru doesn’t have an answer, at least not one he wants to admit to Iwa-chan. He already knows, whether or not Iwa-chan likes the idea of them being soulmates, that he’s going to be mad simply because Tooru hid something from him. Iwa-chan always likes to talk about how Tooru keeping things to himself only makes him stressed out and annoying, which Tooru likes to disagree on, though he supposes this situation is a great example of that.
“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he says eventually, holding back a frown. He doesn’t want to tell Iwa-chan that he was afraid—maybe even still afraid—of their friendship breaking down if he found out they were soulmates, but he knows it’s not a truth he can hide forever. “And it was weird to think of you as my soulmate.”
He brings up the last part mostly to detract from his previous sentence, but the sentiment is true: It was weird to think of Iwa-chan as his soulmate when they had known each other long before either of them knew what a soulmate was. Plus, he would often think of what their relationship may be past just being best friends, and that’s definitely a weird thought.
Iwa-chan just huffs at him, shaking his head, but there’s a strained expression on his face. “Is it weird now?” he asks, lifting his head to look at Tooru.
Tooru looks back at him, and he feels grounded and relieved when Iwa-chan holds his gaze. “No, it’s just normal.”
“Really?” Iwa-chan is shifting on his feet, tense as he waits for an answer.
Tooru isn’t used to Iwa-chan being the vulnerable one. Iwa-chan is always the one who keeps him afloat whenever he’s falling too deep into his own mind, so he feels lost trying to figure out how to make him feel better. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. This is what he didn’t want happening: he didn’t want things to change just because Iwa-chan found out they were soulmates; yet, here he is, thinking that everything is different just because Iwa-chan is talking about them being soulmates. He tells himself to act how he usually does around Iwa-chan, like it’s normal for them to be friends, to be soulmates.
“Well, I can’t lie about it, can I?” he teases with a careful tone and a small grin.
Iwa-chan turns his head away, but Tooru already sees how red his entire face is. “Shut up,” he grumbles, crossing his arms in front of his chest. He chews on his lower lip like he’s debating on something before he looks at Tooru and throws his thumb toward the doors. “Let’s talk about this on the way back home. It’s getting late.”
The sudden change in mood catches Tooru off-guard, and even if he’s relieved that Iwa-chan looks a lot more like himself now, he picks up a volleyball and plants his feet into the floor. “I still have to practice!” he shouts, bouncing the volleyball against the floor. “And I have to stay here longer now because you interrupted me!”
Iwa-chan rolls his eyes but this time, instead of looking annoyed, he looks a lot softer, nicer. “I don’t think you’re going to be replaced so easily,” he says, shaking his head. There have been so many back-and-forths in their conversation that Tooru forgot all about revealing the real reason for his late-night practice, but before he can fight back, Iwa-chan continues, “You’re good at setting to us. You’ve spent the past two years matching up with the spikers. I think it’s going to be hard to replace you.”
Tooru lets the words sink in. He knows he’s supposed to be reading between the lines, taking in what Iwa-chan really wants to say: You’re not going to get replaced so easily, so why are you still practicing so much?
There’s no point in lying, so he just says, “Tobio-chan is better than me and I don’t like it.”
Iwa-chan blinks, obviously taken aback by the sudden declaration. “You don’t like it?” he repeats, then lets out a laugh, one that echoes throughout the empty gym. “I guess it’s true that he’s a pretty good setter”—he ignores the affronted gasp Tooru gives—“ but you’re good at things Kageyema isn’t good at. You’re both good, just good in different ways.”
It’s a nice sentiment, Tooru won’t argue with that, but he still doesn’t like it.
“I don’t like that,” he announces with a stern nod.
Iwa-chan just rolls his eyes. “Yeah, I know you don’t, but it doesn’t change the fact that you’re a good setter.”
Tooru pretends like his entire face isn’t burning red, instead retorting, “Too bad you’re not a good spiker!” though in all honesty, he probably should have thought about his words before blurting them out because he just ends up saying, “You’re a good spiker.”
Iwa-chan sees right through him, too. “You just tried to insult me, didn’t you?” he asks, though the grin on his lips says he already knows the answer.
“No!” Tooru denies, though he regrets it as soon as his mouth says, “Yes!”
Tooru wants to say, “No!” but he knows that is not going to be the word that comes out, so he just stays silent, stewing in his annoyance while Iwa-chan laughs again, boisterous and loud.
“Thanks,” Iwa-chan says when he realizes Tooru isn’t going to answer him. He walks over and wraps his hand around the crook of Tooru’s elbow, pulling him toward the gym doors. “But that’s not going to get you a few more minutes in here. Let’s just go home. We got a lot of stuff to talk about, but tomorrow, we can practice setting and hitting.”
Tooru stares wide-eyed at Iwa-chan, then at his hand on his elbow, then back at Iwa-chan, but when Iwa-chan goes to look at him, he turns away and says, “Fine!”
He tries to make sure that Iwa-chan doesn’t see the small smile he’s wearing, but going by the huffed laugh Iwa-chan lets out, he figures that he failed, so he smiles openly instead, walking arm-in-arm with Iwa-chan.