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When Shouyou was 12 years old, he saw a broadcast that changed his life.
A high school volleyball match at the national level, and an ace who was short like him. In that moment, he knew. He wanted to play volleyball for the rest of his life. It didn’t matter that he had no skills or basic knowledge of the game, he would figure it out. He would join a team and learn everything he needed to know to be just like the Little Giant he saw on that electronics store tv in his little hometown in the mountains.
See the thing is, when Shouyou decides he wants something, he doesn’t let anything stand in the way of it. And once he got to high school and surrounded himself with talented teammates and he learned how it felt to play as part of a team and win as a team, his hunger only grew. While his classmates looked to graduation and college or work or starting a family, his sights were set overseas. Despite several trips to Nationals under his belt, he would never be satisfied until he faced (and beat) Kageyama on the pro stage. But he had so far to go to be able to stand on that stage with him, and he needed to spread his wings elsewhere, train harder and further than he ever had, before he could fly back and show everyone he was strong enough to stand on that court again.
It was on the beaches of Rio de Janeiro, far from the mountains he grew up in, that his life changed for a second time.
An encounter with another volleyball obsessed fool from home, those few days with Oikawa Tooru sparked a new hunger in him. They gave him new life, a new perspective and a new drive. Volleyball was still his first love, but he was also a healthy young man who was not afraid to chase what he wanted. The look on Tooru’s face when he’d shot his shot is a memory that still brings him joy in quiet moments.
(Over the years, Shouyou would discover just how easily the Grand King’s mask fell off when he spoke in just the right tone, touched him with just the right amount of pressure, smiled at him with just the right amount of intent. Each time is as magical as that first time and he never tires of it.)
He wasn’t foolish enough to think their hookups meant anything deeper. They were both athletes competing on the professional circuit, in different countries, no less, but that was what made it so easy. They had the same goals and dreams, the same hunger for volleyball that only a handful of others could understand. They understood one another in ways other people couldn’t.
Shouyou loved people. He loved pleasing them and being pleased by them. Tooru did, too. They both had their fair share of other partners, and would sometimes compete with one another to see who could get the most interesting lay between their semi annual visits between countries and secret rendezvous at shared tournaments.
They always had the most fun together, though.
It wasn’t until Tooru stopped reaching out to him after Tokyo that Shouyou realized just how much he looked forward to their reunions. That he realized maybe Tooru was a bit more special to him than any of his other partners. That he maybe, probably, even loved Tooru as much as he loved volleyball.
Paris gave them a chance to reconnect, but their schedules didn’t align well, and Tooru had been distracted anyway, and the opportunity to talk about it slipped them by. And then a year and a half or so before L.A., he made a surprising announcement that he was ending his career sooner than he planned but without explanation as to why.
Shouyou was sad, to say the least. He’d thought they were both on the same path, or at least would be for a few more years. He’d thought he would get another chance to confess in L.A. But he also knew that Tooru had a life outside of their relationship, nebulous as it was. He didn’t have a right to know the things Tooru didn’t want to share with him, despite how desperately he wanted Tooru to share everything with him. And he came to terms with that. He still had volleyball, after all.
Yet, when Iwaizumi suggested he go visit Tooru out of the blue a few months later, he couldn’t really find a reason not to. He said that Shouyou would be a welcome distraction from Tooru’s retirement woes. Iwaizumi wasn’t prone to lying about anything, so if he said it, it had to be true. Shouyou was curious about what Tooru had been up to these last few years of minimal contact, and he was suddenly very hungry for contact again. He would be lying if he said he didn’t miss Tooru in any and all capacities.
The look on Tooru’s face when he opened the door was just as delightful as it had been that first time in Rio and every time after. He was still breathtakingly beautiful and for a heartbeat, Shouyou was suddenly ten years younger, boldly asking Tooru out while he was in town, not knowing that first night would lead them both here. To this apartment in Argentina. Years and kilometers and unspoken feelings between them.
He’d already come to terms with being in love with Oikawa Tooru. He figured everyone who ever met Tooru once was at least a little in love with him (and that they’d be lying if they said they weren’t), but eventually they’d all moved on. He wasn’t quite past the moving on stage, and hadn’t yet come to terms with the idea of falling in love with anyone else. Being an international volleyball star made it hard to date people long enough to fall in love with them. He figured one day though, when he couldn’t play anymore, maybe he would find someone new and settle down. That had always been a problem for Future Shouyou, a bridge he would cross when he came upon it.
And then after the heartbeat passed, his life changed for a third time.
Because he hadn’t expected to fall in love again so soon, not with familiar brown eyes in a tiny, tan face, chubby child’s fingers clutching a worn stuffed hedgehog.
Because every day over the course of two weeks that would fly by much too fast, a sweet voice would call him “Sho-tío” and he realized he would move heaven and earth to make that little girl smile.
Because he never expected to find himself at that bridge so soon, and not with Oikawa Tooru standing on the other side, his beautiful daughter in hand, waiting for him.
Suddenly Shouyou could see no future that didn’t have the Oikawa’s in it. And he was never going to let them go, even if it meant never playing volleyball again.
He would, of course, continue playing through the end of his contract with Asas, and then a few more years after that in the Argentinian league so he could be closer to his family. He was still healthy, and Marisol loved watching him play. She was sad when he did finally retire, but he reminded her it wasn’t like he would never play again.
And because his life really isn’t complete without volleyball, now he coaches at a local club. It might just be a casual group, but they’ve won a lot of intramural tournaments and they do have some young prospects that have been scouted for the U18 team. Including his step-daughter. It's partially thanks to her Papa’s connections that Mari has a shot at practicing with the U18 team this year, but Shouyou believes even if she wasn’t an Oikawa, she has the skills and talent to get by all on her own. He does his best to be impartial with his players, but he can’t help his pride when she sikes out an opposing team with a sneaky setter dump or nails a signature Oikawa jump serve.
Sure, Mari wasn’t his by blood, but she was as much his daughter by now as she was Tooru’s. He’d been an Oikawa now for nearly a decade anyway. In fact, after their wedding she even decided, in all her six-and-a-half year old wisdom, that “Sho-tío” wasn’t appropriate anymore. Suga joked that she should call him “Otou-Sho” instead. Tooru told her to just drop the tío and call him Shouyou, since that was the standard for a step parent. She still seemed skeptical, but adopted the change easily enough. It didn’t bother him. He knew she loved him, no matter what she called him.
Over the years he had seen her through happy times and hard times, vacations and illnesses, joy and heartbreak. There were still times she would only confide in him, when Papa was being too overbearing and they fought and she needed someone else to talk to. Most recently, she called him on New Years this year when she got drunk at a party with friends and some older students she didn’t know, needing a ride and scared that Tooru would yell at her if she called him. (He yelled, but not at her. Shouyou reassured him she was fine and they had a family discussion when her hangover abated and assured her they weren’t mad at her.)
He loves that they have a special bond, but it’s not like they’ve never had their own difficulties. She’s a teenager, after all, with all the angst and dramatics that come along with it. (Sometimes he wonders if she got a double dose of drama because of her genes. She is an Oikawa.) No matter how much she loves him, she goes through phases where even he’s not cool enough for her.
He thinks she might be going through one of those phases now, though she’s been perfectly pleasant at practice and whenever they do the shopping together. He gets the feeling that there’s something on her mind, but he doesn’t want to push her to talk about it if she’s not ready. If she is in one of her anti-Shouyou phases, asking will only shut her off and she’ll ignore him for a week.
She does seem to be talking to Tooru, though. That makes him feel better, that whatever she’s going through, she isn’t trying to bear it alone. He wishes they would share it with him, but he knows that there are some things only a father can do for his child.
He puts it out of his mind, at least for a little while.
As it starts getting close to his birthday though, they both start acting weird. He’s not an idiot, he’s been with them both long enough to know when they’re scheming something, and it’s not like they’re subtle about the approaching date. He lets them be because there’s no way to stop an Oikawa from executing a plan they’ve concocted and they’ve never given him cause for concern before.
Whatever they’re planning, he’s not sure they could top his 40th two years ago when they flew his entire family from Japan and some of his former teammates as well. They’d partied like they were still in their 20s and he doesn’t actually remember much of that week. He also swore he wasn’t going to have any more birthdays because he didn’t think he could survive another one like that. They promised they wouldn’t do it again for at least a decade, and he’s really hoping they stick to that.
His 42nd birthday is on a Sunday, and it’s a peaceful, ordinary day. Tooru wakes him up with gentle kisses and a clever hand before slipping out to help Marisol in the kitchen. The three of them have breakfast together in the king bed like they do on all their birthdays. Shouyou laughs at the animal shaped pancakes and Mari grins like she’s holding a secret.
They spend the morning in the back yard playing volleyball. For lunch they drive across the city to the café they frequented when Mari was younger. The same one he took her to on their first “date.” They used to come regularly until they moved into the house with the yard her first year of middle school. It’s still one of their favorite spots.
The rest of the day follows the same pattern. Every place they visit holds a special memory for them. For all of them, but specifically for Marisol and Shouyou. Tooru is quiet most of the day, content to let Mari do all the talking, but he never has nothing to say, and his secretive smile keeps Shouyou on his toes.
They have dinner at home. Mari makes agedashi tofu and refuses to let either of them help. Shouyou pulls his husband aside to ask what alien he let replace his daughter. Tooru laughs and insists everything was Mari’s idea. Shouyou is still suspicious, but Tooru makes a compelling argument with his lips on Shouyou’s neck and he lets it go for now.
After dinner they all curl up on the couch together, Shouyou against Tooru’s side and Mari’s head in Shouyou’s lap, watching a music competition show they’ve been invested in. He’s full and happy and relaxed. It really was the perfect birthday.
“You know, I was a little worried about today,” he confesses. Mari rolls her head to look up at him with a question. Tooru’s arm stills on his shoulder where his hand had been rubbing lazy circles on Shouyou’s arm. “You were both acting really suspicious all week. I didn’t know what exactly you were planning, but I can’t say I’m disappointed. Best birthday yet.” He drops a kiss to Mari’s forehead and turns to kiss Tooru’s cheek. “Thank you. I love you both.”
A look passes between Marisol and her Papa, and Shouyou has the sudden realization that the day isn’t technically over yet. Tooru nods and Mari scrambles off the couch and up the hall to her room. Shouyou gives his husband another suspicious look, but Tooru just shakes his head and kisses Shouyou’s temple. “Told you, all her idea.”
When Mari comes back, she has a slim white box tied with red string. She kneels on the floor in front of him as she hands it over, kneading her hands in her lap. He doesn’t want her to be anxious, so he doesn’t make a show of trying to guess what it could be like he normally would. He pulls the string on the bow and it falls off the box as it unravels. The top slides off smoothly, and inside is a manila envelope. Again he gives them both a querulous look, again they give him no answers and he’s forced to blindly barrel on.
He slips the flap of the envelope open, and notices a small stack of papers inside. He carefully pulls them all out and his life changes one more time when the words on the top of the first page become visible.
His heart stutters at the official government letterhead declaring the intention to adopt. He swallows around the lump that has just made a home in his throat. His vision blurs and he can’t look at either of them or he fears he’ll start crying and never stop. He blinks a few times to clear it so he can read the rest of the page. The form is mostly filled out. Tooru and Marisol’s names are in some of the boxes. And there’s his name too. He reads it over three times to be sure he isn’t dreaming.
After a few minutes he realizes he’s been too quiet for too long. He finally looks back up at Marisol. At his little girl. (She’s not so little anymore, his brain teases him, reminding him she’s nearly as tall as he is.) Her eyes are watery too, and her knuckles are white, tangled in her shorts. “I-I know it’s kind of selfish to ask the birthday person for a gift on their birthday,” she stammers, “b-but what do you say?” She takes a sharp breath in and unclenches her fists. She’s being so brave it hurts him to think he has ever given her reason to doubt what his answer will be. “Will you be my Papai?”
He hands the adoption papers to Tooru before his tears can ruin them, and he drops to the floor to wrap her up in his arms. Her arms come up and tightly grip his sides. He presses kisses into her hair as she sobs into his chest. He looks up at Tooru and beckons him over. Once they’re all together in a snotty, weepy pile, he gives his honest, most heartfelt answer. “I’ve never wanted anything more, mija.”
When Shouyou was 12 years old, he wanted to play volleyball for the rest of his life.
When he was 22 years old, he wanted to play volleyball with Oikawa for the rest of his life.
When he was 32 years old, he wanted to be part of Oikawa’s family for the rest of his life.
On his 42nd birthday, he had everything he wanted for the rest of his life right in his arms.