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Technology is constantly improving, advancing beyond expectations. Minds are clogged with over saturated content, gorging on repetitive, shameless advertisements. The surge of digital has been immense, and shows no signs of waning.
Nevertheless, at the core of every being exists a valuable tool; the written word.
Absolute, definitive, unwavering… a simple signature can condemn or liberate. It stands firm in the eyes of the law, validating court evidence and documents. With a simple collection of strokes, relationships can be forged, broken even, should it be desired.
Fortunately, Akaashi wanted no such thing. He was not married, nor likely to be anytime soon all things considered. Within his blazer pocket sat a neatly folded sheet of paper, a form he had laboured over meticulously earlier on that day.
In hindsight, Akaashi should have been fearful of this development; a new school, a new start… a new club. Alas, he was naïve. To him, the slip of paper symbolised a pass to a good, stable beginning for his time at Fukurodani, something positive to write on his CV come graduation, at least.
Had he possessed the knowledge to realise that this form was in fact a ticket to an early attempt at parenting… well, he just might have reconsidered his options. Not that he needed to look far for an alternative. Why, it was only a few hours prior, in fact, that his classmates had urged him to apply elsewhere.
Mad, they had called him. Good as their intentions may have been, Akaashi did not want to listen.
"I heard they went to nationals last year.”
What of it…?
"The club is bound to be more popular because of it, so what’ll you do if you don’t make the team?”
There was always next year. Besides, a club wasn’t necessarily about making the team… surely?
He discarded those thoughts with a slight shake of a head, seeing no benefit to such negativity. Everything would work out just fine.
… What wishful thinking.
The very instant Akaashi approached the doors to the gym, his mouth fell agape.
There appeared to be a certain financial benefit to being an academy, Akaashi established. If he had to place a bet, he’d reckon that large quantities of the institute’s funds were poured into the sports department alone. To call the gym huge would be a similarly vast understatement.
Five volleyball courts were set up alongside one another, covering a reasonable stretch of the building. Regrettably, his classmates had been correct about one thing… the place was packed with people.
Everything will be fine, Akaashi reassured himself once more, jolting when he felt a hand clap his shoulder.
“First year, right?”
Still engrossed in the shock of the facility, Akaashi could all but manage a slight dumb nod of his head in the direction of the voice. Eyes flickered upwards shortly after to spot a man, one of the coaches, he assumed.
“Oh, my form.” This was not the time to be so scatter-brained. Producing the paper from his pocket, Akaashi handed it to the coach, earning a smile in return.
“Great, get changed and join the others over there.” A gesture of the coach’s head directed Akaashi to a gathering of students not too far away. “We’ll commence the session in fifteen minutes.”
“Okay.”
Torn between giving a nod or a bow, Akaashi settled for an awkward in between before he made for the changing rooms. This was going to be a long and difficult afternoon.
“Alright, listen up everybody!”
Shoes scuffled and squeaked against the polished floor whilst the first year students took their positions, forming an orderly line before the coaches. The staff consisted of a few men and a young girl in her second year, who served as the team manager. With a resounding clap, the eldest of the men brought his hands together, leathery palms rubbing against one another. “Firstly, I’d like to thank you all for coming…”
Amidst the man’s introduction, Akaashi found himself peering down the line. The turn-out was certainly impressive… fifteen- wrong, twenty students in total. This did not bode well at all.
Try as he might to focus, Akaashi’s pulse thudded loudly in his ears, drumming erratically. Subconsciously he began to fidget, clutching at the third and final finger of his left hand.
Perhaps I was mad to apply here…
No, I put thought into this.
Remember to breathe.
This will work out. Making the team isn’t the objective here.
There was always next year.
Yes, there was always next year.
Pursing his lips together, the coach took a reflective pause, pleasantries over. “Now, I think it goes without saying that we take pride in the success of our club. As such, we expect a certain level of respect and dedication.”
Dedication?
Right, good. Akaashi had that sorted. Slacking off was not his thing.
“This afternoon will be an informal session of sorts; we don’t intend to scare you off after all. You’ll be put into groups and undertake a series of simple exercises under the supervision of some of our current team members. From this we’ll not only get an impression of the skill sets you possess, but your personality also.”
Oh no, Akaashi paled.
All the life in his body trickled down from his face, cascading over his shoulders to form a pool around his feet, leaving a frail, contemplative wreck in its place.
Personality was a distinct issue.
The drumming bubbled up into his ears once more, a stern reminder for him to breathe and remain composed. Despite his typically cool demeanour, Akaashi wasn’t the most confident soul.
What exactly did they need to know about him? Preparing some answers seemed the default response to such a situation, yet what would they ask?
Favourite colour? Too naïve.
Favourite food? Certainly not, though at least he had an answer for that.
Hobbies, perhaps…? Akaashi strongly hoped against this, for fear that he might just sound incredibly boring.
There was no use predicting the situation, he determined eventually. Whilst walking spontaneously into a scenario did nothing but set his unease into further disarray, it went without saying that he had little choice in the matter.
“Oi, Twiddles? Mind getting over here?”
Torn all too abruptly from his internal ramblings, Akaashi’s brow furrowed. Roughly four students, all first years, stood before him. The voice in question however came from another; whose lips (undoubtedly his most distinctive feature) formed a peculiar shape akin to that of a cat’s.
“Twiddles…?”
“Fingers.” The individual remarked, pointing to Akaashi’s hands.
Oh, those.
Upon regaining focus of his surroundings, an immediate build of pressure alerted him to his tightly laced digits, now whitish in colour. At some point during his anxious observations, his nerves had obviously seen fit to dominate his body language. Prying the fingers apart, Akaashi stepped up to the crowd, earning an approving look from this… whoever he was.
There was a lot to be said about first impressions, Akaashi believed, and though he may have just stamped himself as some fidgeting weirdo, this guy was making no real attempt at painting a good image of his own.
“Aaah right, mn.”
The man (for lack of better word) was pacing about and nodding to himself. “Name’s Sarukui Yamato, I’m a second year student and wing spiker for the team.”
On cue there came a mumbled wave of greetings, Akaashi just about resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Was the entire team this difficult? Maybe he had a better chance of being taken on than he had first anticipated…
In a short space of time the gym’s atmosphere changed, enthusiastic chatter and the familiar thwack sounds ringing through the walls, signalling the beginning of the try out sessions. This appeared to be the kick up the arse Sarukui required, prompting him to wheel over a case of volleyballs.
“Alrighty… Suppose we should do some serves and receives.”
Partway through the hesitant pause, Akaashi took a moment to examine his peers. They were roughly the same height as he, fortunately, though each one upheld a weird, almost creepy façade in an attempt to impress their supervisor.
Sarukui, thank goodness, appeared to be having none of it. In fact Akaashi wondered what on earth he did give a damn about.
One student stood to attention as if it were a military drill, merely receiving a slight arch of an eyebrow from the second year currently bent over the case. Another shifted his balance from foot to foot, seemingly even more liable of fidgeting than Akaashi was. The final two went for the overly friendly approach, stepping forward.
“Sarukui-san, would you-”
“Wooah. No, no.” Straightening up with a ball in hand, Sarukui frowned. “Drop the san. I don’t do formalities.”
At that point Akaashi finally succumbed, and gave a slow roll of his eyes. No kidding, considering the nickname you gave me…
Requiring no further persuasion, the pair made to slink back in line until fingers clicked. “You two, that side of the net.” Sarukui then motioned to the quivering shell of a student beside Akaashi, handing him the ball. “Toss for me?”
Immediately the once cocky duo blanched. “Wait, we have to receive your spike?!”
“No…” Both of Sarukui’s eyebrows were raised. Whilst difficult to discern considering his typical expression, Akaashi had an honest suspicion that he was very much enjoying this scenario. Was this a genuine smile, perhaps? “You can always dodge it, if you prefer. Can’t say I won’t judge you for it, though.”
Lastly acknowledging his trembling setter, Sarukui gave a small wave. “When you’re ready.”
Yes, he was certainly smiling. The accumulating panic the pair displayed sent his mood soaring and the corner of his lips curling upwards further. Something about that phrase, the cat that got the cream, sprung to mind…
Hunching over a few steps back, Sarukui prepped himself to jump. The setter-come-shake-central (how on earth he was still holding the ball was beyond anybody) was readying himself likewise, whilst the final first year of the group performed some prayer for their safety.
As for Akaashi…? Well, he rather wanted to see how this would play out.
“Oi, oi! Are you teasing the first years?”
Damn, maybe next time.
Heaving himself upright, (as if that too involved a great deal of effort) Sarukui accepted the interruption with a laugh through his nose. “Komiyan, why you gotta’ ruin the fun?”
This Komiyan (a nickname presumably) person was busy retrieving a few stray balls from his own court, which sat alongside Sarukui’s. “There’s fun, then there’s outright attempting to kill off potential teammates.”
“Surely if I take a few out fast we’ll have less to choose from, no? I’m simply making our job easier!”
“Saru.”
“Oh come on Komiiii.” Sarukui dragged his feet after his considerably shorter companion, the libero, Akaashi imagined. “At least I wasn’t going to attempt a full jump serve.”
The apparent domestic did little to pique Akaashi’s interest after long. Dismissing even the traumatised members of his crew, he let his attention wander to the other courts. The next two along seemed incredibly organised, one was run by a guy with light coloured hair, the other by a guy much larger in build and with dark, spiked hair.
Akaashi wished he had been in one of those groups instead. The coaches were gathered near those two courts in particular; therefore no student there could go unnoticed.
“Twiddles, are you off in your own world again?”
Komi (his actual name, they soon learned) gave a hard stare in Sarukui’s direction before breaking into laughter. “You’re already giving out nicknames?”
“Of course!” Without prior warning Sarukui’s arm was making its way around Akaashi’s shoulders, tugging him in close. “He has a little fidget habit, something with his hands. So I figured Twiddles was appropriate.”
“Great. What’s his real name?”
There was silence.
Sarukui’s head slowly turned in Akaashi’s direction, a hand waving towards Komi subsequently. “Um…”
“You didn’t even get their names?!” Komi exclaimed, his cheeks puffed up. It was around that point, Akaashi recalled, his distracted mind and stomach agreed he resembled a pineapple.
Mm… that sounded like a nice idea. If only he could’ve escaped the nightmare-come –high-school-drama to go buy some.
“Dammit you are a lame coach!”
It was fleeting, near on impossible to spot, but the constant smile yielded at that comment. “Hey I never thought we’d be doing this. Besides aren’t you ignoring your own students right now?”
“Gak!”
Aggravated, pinea- sorry, Komi whipped his head round abruptly, spotting the small gathering nearby. “Work on them passes for a moment whilst I whip my teammate into shape!”
When a chorus of yes sounded, the libero became filled with a smug sense of pride. “See, look at the authority I have.”
“I am going to put everything you own on the highest shelf possible.” Sarukui sneered, giving Komi’s dishevelled mop a firm ruffle, whilst smaller arms swatted at the offending limb in protest.
“Do it! I’ll just ask Washio to get it all back down for me!”
Having been completely forgotten amidst this conversation, Akaashi could feel his eyes pleading to reel back in their usual sarcastic fashion.
Please, shut up already…
To conclude, the first hour of the session was nothing short of abysmal, and Sarukui had lived up to every one of Akaashi’s incredibly low expectations.
Despite having yet to learn a single one of his students’ names; thanks to Sarukui and Komi they were now privy to the identities of the more impressive members of the team, Konoha and Washio, whom managed to maintain the attention of the coaches.
All Akaashi’s group earnt was a severe blow of the whistle from the staff, who failed to see the funny side when Sarukui attempted to throw Komi through the nearby basketball hoop following another friendly dispute.
“Ugh, this is it…”
Lowering his water bottle, Akaashi glanced up from his position in the direction of the voice. One of the students from the boastful duo was slumped against the wall, eyes closed. “I wanted to look cool, but that guy had me really nervous.” As if expecting an audience, he opened his eyes partway, noting Akaashi. “Hey, what’s your opinion on this? Haven’t heard much at all from you today, aren’t you concerned they’ll reject you?”
Disregard slapped him harsh across the face, provoking a sharp intake of air. How could one person be so rude…?
Deeming his break officially spoiled, Akaashi rose up onto his feet, tucking his water bottle snug along the edge of the wall with the toe of his trainer. “… Apologies, I thought I’d signed up for a sports club.”
“Huh?”
Eyes narrowed fiercely; a predecessor to the notorious glare his future teammates would fear so greatly. “I suggest you get off that wall already. You’re here to play volleyball, not make baseless assumptions about other peoples’ potential.”
“… Nice kill.”
Sarukui snorted at the sight. Wisely, he supposed it best to watch from a safe distance when Akaashi stepped up to the court. In the meantime Komi, currently half managing his own lot, prodded his companion’s side in warning. “Ssh. We don’t need him getting pissed at us too.”
“He doesn’t take shit though.”
“I said shh!”
Releasing a reluctant puff of air, Komi began to observe Akaashi as well. With the arrogant idiot thoroughly silenced, he had taken to assisting the remainder of the students in a small practice set up. “Still, can’t say I disagree.”
Leisurely his attention drifted over to the final court, just beyond Konoha and Washio’s. Witnessing the scene with a quiet intensity, his lips pressed together in thought. “Say Saru, d’you reckon someone like that could…?”
“Cope with that one?” Sarukui finished on instinct, arms crossed over his chest as he too examined the final court. Constant whoops and cheers could be heard from the cluster there, infectious and successful at boosting the mood of the students and staff alike. “Perhaps.”
Yes, he mused, what an interesting possibility indeed…
“Nice receive!”
On a scale of one to finding the air con broken during the middle of summer, Akaashi considered himself exceptionally done. The conceited moron from before had set him off in a foul mood, and no matter how hard he try, he could not shake the remnants of his earlier rage.
No, if anything, it was increasing.
With each resounding smack there came loud, zealous cries. People nearby were having fun, too much fun.
“Be quiet already…” Akaashi muttered almost inaudibly.
“Oi, Twiddles?”
Wonderful, just what I needed.
“Sarukui-san.” Akaashi paused from his serve, handing the ball to another first year so that the group could continue.
“I sai- no wait, nevermind. For some reason the honorifics suit you.” Waving one hand dismissively, and then brandishing some papers in the other, Sarukui soon flicked through each sheet. “What’s your name, kid?”
Kid…? Coming from a guy just one year older than himself?
“I almost preferred Twiddles…” Akaashi countered, scowling at the hearty laugh which came in response. “… It’s Akaashi Keiji.”
“Aka, Akaaa… ah! Here we are.” Sarukui plucked a single leaf out and brought it to the front of the selection. “Got your application forms from the coach, figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a look.”
“I suppose not.” Akaashi could hardly disagree there, even if he had some reservations about his supervisor’s common sense. A soft, enlightened hum distracted him from further pessimistic thoughts however.
“Sooo, you joined the volleyball club in your middle school, good start. Were you a team regular?”
“Yes.”
The half-hearted shrug incurred an elevated curiosity in Sarukui, who decided to probe further. “You don’t seem entirely thrilled by that.”
“No, no I enjoyed it, I assure you.” Akaashi blurted, not intending on giving such a terrible impression. “My concern is that I wasn’t a regular so much out of skill, more as a result of no one else wanting my position. Too many people preferred being spikers over anything else.”
“Mmhm… Wait, does that mean…?” Contrary to Akaashi’s dismal beliefs, Sarukui’s eyes weren’t far off sparkling. “… You specialise in blocks?”
“Setter, mostly. That’s what I liked best.”
“…!” To Akaashi’s bewilderment Sarukui made no comprehensible reply, instead disturbing his group immensely with some strangled, swift sound in what one could assume to be excitement. “Komiya-!”
“Dammit, that’s the third time I’ve screwed up!!”
The sudden outcry broke Sarukui from his thoughts, approaching Komi in a slow walk. “Seriously? He’s already at it?”
“D-Don’t worry, I’m sure it’s my mista-”
“It can’t be!!”
“Yup. There he goes…” Komi eventually mumbled to his teammate, whom seemed to share his displeasure. Sarukui’s thrilling revelation would have to wait.
Amidst the havoc of the gym, Akaashi found himself fully appreciating his knack of shutting out noise on demand. Disruptive classroom? Gone. Traffic? Never existed. It was well within his potential to withstand the prattling coming from the other court too, no doubt about it.
Utterly disinterested, he went to serve. The offender of everyone’s eardrums came in the form of the final second year student, a spiker from the sounds of things. Akaashi did not care to dwell on such a ruckus for too long, but he could not deny the wild mess of grey and black hair had amused him for an instant. Was that the latest fashion, or…?
“GAAAAAARGH! I’m a total failuuuure!!”
Ignore it… He’ll shut up soon.
Shrill yells rang through his ears like an unpleasant jolt of static. Reckoning it best to uphold his composure, Akaashi channelled his fury into the palm of his hand instead, beating the ball over the net with a satisfying smack. “Good.”
The first years rotated there on, Akaashi entertained by the drained expressions worn by Komi and Sarukui. That smile wasn’t permanent after all.
“SARUUUUUU!”
“No!!” Sarukui’s face contorted when the loudmouth approached, golden eyes fixated upon him in a mix of frustration and fear. “But Saru, I missed all of the tosses, dammit!!”
Not that it bore any relevance in that precise moment, but on closer inspection of the annoyance Akaashi couldn’t help but confess he had a rather solid build. The arms were exceptionally impressive, though he dare not voice such opinions aloud.
“Saru, I need help!”
“Well duh, I could’ve told you that.” Apparently past the point of rage, Sarukui resorted to laughing at the tormented spiker. If Akaashi had to chance a guess, he’d reckon this was a frequent occurrence…
Frequent or not, it was really beginning to wind him up.
“Man, don’t you ever smile…? The coaches specifically asked for a personality, remember?”
Brilliant. The bothersome first year had returned.
“Noted.” Akaashi remarked, tone lowering to a near growl. Idiot One (he labelled for convenience’s sake, the unnamed second year student being Idiot Two) held out the ball for him, which he snatched away with incoherent grumbling.
Needless to say, Idiot One had made a valid point, which was probably what irritated him most. In fact, every tiny detail proceeded to set his nerves awry. The far end court, alongside Konoha and Washio’s had stopped their sessions, some of the staff and students gathering on standby to pander to Idiot two as well if need be.
No… ‘Idiot’ looked to be too weak of a word for these individuals.
“Gonna’ serve or what? There are people waiting, if you hadn’t noticed.”
“Nh…!!” Akaashi shot a warning glare over his shoulder, mind spiralling downwards fast into confusion. To the right came Idiot One’s unnecessary jibes, and to the left a torrent of fussing and half screams.
Breathe, endure, endure…
Focus wavering from the flood of chaos, Akaashi barely made out the shape of Sarukui at the corner of the court. Furthermore Idiot Two, situated close by, vividly conveyed no intention of shutting up anytime in the near future.
Everything grew loud, incredibly loud…
“Oh come on!!”
I can’t concentrate.
“Seriously, can you even play?!”
Harsh and unforeseen, something inside of Akaashi snapped. The moron wanted him to serve so badly, and serve he would.
SMACK.
… Right into the back of Idiot Two’s head.
A suffocating haze fell over the room, condemning all to silence. The soft slap as the ball hit the floor coursed through Akaashi ten times over, each bounce resonating as if he had served an iron weight.
Sarukui merely looked to Akaashi with wide eyes, and he wasn’t alone in that gesture. Almost, no… absolutely everyone in the gym gawked in astonishment. Idiot Two’s shoulders were bunched up tight about his ears and he stood deathly quiet. The back of his hair bore a slight dent from where the ball had made its impact, which he would hopefully fail to discover anytime soon.
Eventually, one of the coaches raised a trembling hand.
“… Second years, staff, remain here. The rest of you, please make your way outside. We shall be with you shortly.”
Ah…
Experiencing nothing but the frightful, familiar sensation of dread pull at his body, Akaashi paled for the second time that afternoon.
I’m finished.
“I can’t believe it…”
“… Was it on purpose?”
“Does he have any clue who he hit?!”
Of course Akaashi knew.
Granted plenty of time to kill, he had taken the opportunity to perform some reconnaissance, or rather, eavesdrop on the nearby conversations. It was all he could do right now, besides curse every fibre of his being and plan the speech for his parents wherein he’d have to explain just why his application to the volleyball club had been rejected.
In some cruel twist of fate the identity of Idiot Two revealed itself to be none other than Fukurodani’s ace, who went by the name of Bokuto Koutarou. A powerful wing spiker, he was riddled with mysteries and a terrible habit of going into a certain mode of depression, aka teenage angst, a state he had found himself wallowing within whilst Akaashi committed that alarming act of assault.
Did Akaashi truly mean to hit him? Hell if even he knew that much... Everything was in ruins as far as his mind was concerned. The pressure outright side-tracked him, so who knows what he had been thinking at the time.
Akaashi blamed Idiot One for this. More so upon spying the smirk plastered across that dumb face as his eyes scanned the students gathered outside. Preoccupied in recalling the afternoon’s events to his peers, there was little room to doubt his confidence.
“He’s out of here, guaranteed.”
“Don’t be so harsh, they might…”
Exasperated, fingers shortly knotted tight, prompting the mocking call of Twiddles to run through his mind. Speaking of which, Sarukui was inside, no…? Daft as he may have been, Akaashi hoped he wasn’t receiving the rant for his misconduct. That would be truly unfair.
Time rolled on sluggishly after that, successfully twisting Akaashi’s stomach into a nauseating lump of flesh. It constricted under his skin, nerves writhing madly and driving him to the point where he might just throw up, given the circumstances.
Thankfully, hushed whispers prompted him away from that thought, bringing his focus to the gym door which slowly, achingly opened, revealing the coach from earlier.
“Thank you all for your patience." He started, upon clearing his throat. "We’ve carried out our review of this afternoon’s session and made our decision for the team selection. Understand that the total applications for our club exceed our intake capacity this year, therefore any names I do not call please accept our apologies, as we are unable to take you on.”
A weighty sigh tumbled from Akaashi’s lips whilst he brought his knees up to his chest. A mere handful of students were called, three or four at most. Envious, though not surprised in the slightest at this turn of events, he watched them walk up to the door until the coach paused, peering round.
“Akaashi Keiji?” The voice came softer now, the coach deeming it best to approach the bundle of anxiety situated close to the gym doors personally. “We’d like to have a word with you too, if that’s alright.”
“Of course.”
A raspy intake of air alerted him to the hard lump in his throat, which Akaashi reluctantly swallowed during the laboured task of hauling himself up onto his feet. Were it not for the internal screaming and torment rattling through his body, he might have experienced some element of joy in noticing that the smug moron and his friends were all still outside, evidently rejected from the club.
It would not do to boast. It was presumptuous enough for Akaashi to feel an ounce of safety for his own position at this moment in time.
Each footstep across the gym proved arduous, Akaashi paying a flicker of attention to the delighted four first years who had been called upon, congregated at the centre of the room. They were joined in their celebrations by a few students much taller and bigger in build, the team’s third years, presumably. When Akaashi passed by, the pack hushed for a mere second, resuming their elation immediately after.
“Hey, Akaashi-kun!”
Disconcerted, Akaashi’s head whirled round in an attempt to find the owner of the voice, causing the coach to laugh softly. “Looks like I’ll be leaving you here. See you again shortly.”
“What?!” Before he could even mouth a protest, the coach had strolled to a set of doors at the far end of the gym and disappeared out of sight.
Just brilliant… now what am I supposed to do?
“Oi, Akaashi-kuun!”
In a flash of colour Sarukui burst into view, invading Akaashi’s personal space and startling him greatly. “What’re you looking so surprised about?”
“Sarukui-san...?!” Akaashi rasped, shaking his head in disbelief, and taking a step back for good measure. The overwhelming shock caused his stomach to perform flips and unimaginable tricks, riling up his tensions magnificently. “S-Since when did you see fit to use my real name…?”
“Since you did that wonderful serve to the back of Bokuto’s head?” Slapping a palm to Akaashi’s back, Sarukui could only grin further. “It really was impressive.”
“Please don’t.”
“Mm…?”
“I-It was an accident, nothing more. Now please stop, I feel sick enough as it is.” Whilst inclined to crack a joke, the unexpected return of the fidget habit, and the weird colouration of Akaashi’s face informed Sarukui that this was a terrible idea. “Also, just Akaashi is fine.”
“Hnn. Akaashi, look…” Taking a pensive breath, Sarukui leant in. “It’s ok, trust me. Komi and I spoke with the coaches; they know full well it was a harmless mistake.”
“They do?”
“Yep. I’ve done some pretty damaging serves myself during official matches, after all.” The way in which Sarukui’s eyes narrowed to mere slits, and how he dragged his words to a hushed mumble spoke volumes, ironically. Akaashi pitied those souls immensely, and half wondered where they were today.
All in all however, Akaashi was mildly impressed by his actions, admired him even. Nonetheless, it only served to tear his mind between gratefulness and guilt, largely since he’d been so harsh and judgemental of his poor supervisor for the past however many hours. “… You didn’t have to, really.”
“Of course I did! I might seem a little slow, but I didn’t miss what that other first year was playing at, taunting you constantly.” Sarukui let a grin surface. “And if you don’t mind me saying, you sure responded well to his behaviour, put him in his place real good.”
For the first time that afternoon, a smile, albeit small, found its way onto Akaashi’s face. Sarukui’s bid to reassure him proved effective enough, putting his worries at ease. “I suppose. At any rate, I assume I’ve been summoned here to apologise to your ace?”
“Ah…?”
Temporarily, their conversation met an awkward recess of sorts, inspiring a numbing sensation of doubt to simmer up.
“Oh, that’s right!”
Akaashi swore he saw the very moment the lights switched on somewhere up in Sarukui’s head. Just when he had thought so highly of the guy, too…
Without another word he was ushered to the same set of doors the coach had disappeared through not long ago, coming to face with a long corridor. "Keeeep going.” Sarukui chimed in, not that there was much choice in the matter when his hands were firmly upon Akaashi’s shoulders, guiding him along.
“Annd here we are!”
Releasing his hold on the baffled first year, Sarukui nodded to the door ahead. “Go on, they don’t bite.”
Hold on… they?!
“W-Wait Sarukui-san, how many are the-”
“In!”
That was it. With no time to prepare the door was flung open and Akaashi shoved into the room in a similar fashion. Stumbling momentarily, he made to hastily determine his surroundings and regain his posture, a job made exceptionally taxing by a certain individual.
“HEY, HEY, HEEEY!!”
In reference to an earlier thought, there really was much to say about first impressions. True enough, Akaashi knew all of the people in that room, but that was very much beside the point. What became much more prominent at that stage was the team’s tendency of scaring the living daylights out of people. Had no one heard of subtlety?
In the worst case scenario that volleyball failed this group, Akaashi made a mental note to assure them some horror house nearby would take them in as live actors.
“Dude, turn the volume down!”
“He looks dazed as heck.”
Dazed…? What a colossal understatement.
“Yes…” Akaashi agreed, eyes finally adjusting to the light. “Do shut up.”
“See? I told you he was funny.”
Setting a hand on Akaashi’s shoulder to steady him once more, Sarukui pushed on. “Anyhow, we don’t have much time until the coaches need us, so let’s wrap the intros up fast.” Pausing momentarily to outstretch an arm, he pointed to each individual in turn. “Excluding myself, who you know very well, there’s Komi, our libero.”
Regardless of having met Komi prior, Akaashi gave a polite nod, rewarded with a grin in return.
“Next there’s Washio, a middle blocker, and beside him Konoha, a wing spiker like me.”
“Hello.” Came the gruff response from Washio, causing Akaashi to tense. He supposed it helped, having someone fairly intimidating amongst the jokers to create an impact. Nonetheless there was something kind about the guy, so it seemed harsh to jump to immediate conclusions (again).
“Last but not least…” Sarukui droned, unmistakably bothered with the very concept of bringing the final student’s name up. “Bo-”
“Bokuto Koutarou!! Wing spiker and Fukurodani’s ace!!”
Wow, there was no hiding the pride in this one.
“Nice to meet you.” Akaashi blurted, fingers lacing together on instinct. “I… I’m sorry for the disruption earlier, that is- well, hitting you with the ball I mean.”
Blinking once, twice… It clicked.
“Oh that? Forget it; I am totally cool with what happened!”
Up, down… back up again...
Perhaps it was Akaashi’s wild and frazzled imagination playing tricks on him, but this Bokuto character was far too engaged with inspecting his body to make any attempt of eye contact. “What’s your name…?” He questioned in a daze.
“Akaashi Keiji.” Sarukui saw fit to interrupt his teammate’s discussion, equally concerned with whatever rocky turn it had geared towards. “He’s our newest setter.”
Oh, I made the team after all.
Wait.
“You’re joking, aren’t you?!” Shunting Sarukui aside (not out of rage mind you) he turned about in astonishment. “Those guys out there are your new teammates, the coach called me in to-”
“Meet us lot, of course.” Konoha spoke up this time, grinning afterwards. Somewhere in the back a stumbling Sarukui was surprisingly caught by Komi of all people, the duo laughing. “We need someone who’ll keep this prat in gear.”
Thankfully, Bokuto was too preoccupied in admiring their newcomer to fully comprehend that insult.
“You’ll have to practice a bit to match his weird style, but from what Saru and Komi have told us, we reckon you’ll do a good job.”
“… You’ve never seen me set.” Akaashi pressed, taking a moment to grill Sarukui and Komi with his stare. “How can you know I’ll be of any use?”
It was one awkward silence after another with this lot.
“Intuition, I guess…?”
This was probably, no indefinitely one of the worst lines of reasoning he had ever heard. How could one rely on such a loose concept?
“In all seriousness though… Our current, most skilled setter is a third year. We’ve been in need of a suitable replacement for some time, and this feels like a good shot.” Konoha concluded with his head tilted slightly. “So… would you like to join us?”
What a ridiculous question.
After enduring countless insults, a weird nickname… nerves sent through the roof and eardrums near-on burst thanks to a certain someone… now they were asking him to join this madness?
“Sure, why not.”
Only a fool would have said no.
“Did that seriously happen...?”
“Of course! Why would your captain lie?”
Tugging at the sheet about his shoulders, Onaga pulled a face riddled with disbelief, meanwhile desperately trying to stifle any potential laughter. “It sounds… insane.”
“It was insane.” Came a grumble elsewhere, Akaashi undoubtedly being the source of the quip. Bundled up in his own blanket, his response roused a fizzle of laughter. “I lost count how many times I thought I was going to throw up.”
There they were, following a good year or so of chaos later, huddled in a circle reminiscing about the old times.
No one could recall how it came about exactly, besides the fact that a) they were supposed to be sleeping and b) Bokuto was anything but sleepy. As such, the entire team was required to stay awake.
A shudder and a drawn out yawn from Konoha soon provoked a growl from the captain, who proceeded to wallop him with a pillow. “No sleeping! This is a training exercise in itself!”
“If you hadn’t noticed, we’re here for a training week.” Sarukui grumbled, insisting on making his own opinion known. “There’s no need for this.”
“Bokuto-san he’s right, be reasonable.”
With an extended hefty sigh Akaashi intervened at last, finding it necessary to try and control their wild leader before things got out of hand, like always. “These training sessions take a lot out of us all, so we should rest.”
Partway through the conversation Washio was able to gently pry the pillow from Bokuto’s hand, placing it well out of reach. Motioning with a light nod to Onaga, the pair did their best to shield the object further out of sight with their bodies, just in case.
Bokuto was the sort to forget about things fast, after all.
“Really though, in my own experience the selection process was a lot… smoother.” Onaga continued, hoping dearly that no one had taken offence.
“That’s because it was.” Washio gave a deep yet soft laugh, glancing in Akaashi’s direction. “You had a reliable supervisor.”
“Hey!!” Thoroughly insulted (and with good reason), Sarukui furrowed his brow; his lips conveying no implication of his disapproval however. “I was a good mentor, wasn’t I?”
The protests were solely met with a ripple of laughter, Akaashi rolling his shoulders half-heartedly. “I made the team in the end. That’s what’s important.”
In spite of the apparent lack of faith in his methods, Sarukui gave a genuine smile to that response. “Yeah, that is true. Though speaking of which…” It was Bokuto’s turn to face the heat when those lips curled up in an almost mischievous fashion. “A certain someone had very few, in fact no complaints about our new addition at the time… regardless of the fact he’d been battered with a volleyball by the very same person.”
“That’s why he didn’t complain, obviously. It knocked him senseless.” Komi speculated briefly, grinning soon after with his smug companion until they answered in unison.
“… Naaaah! We know the real reason why!”
“No you don’t!” Bokuto huffed, jumping to his own defence in a flash.
Sure, he was loud, but body language spoke loudest by far. From the way his cheeks swelled, to the light pink shade that dusted over them… The fists that clenched tight in the blanket draped around his shoulders... His hair even, dishevelled from the shower and lacking its typical sharp style, flicked about as he shook his head in disagreement. “This has nothing to do with infection!!”
“Infatuation…?” Konoha pried with a teasing edge to his voice.
That comment proved about as productive as hugging a cactus, just as prickly too, for that matter. Mocking the sensitive owl child always met with repercussions…
“Argh shut it!! I knew what I meant!”
Without another word Bokuto had leapt to his feet, blanket flung behind him in an overly dramatic manner before he stomped out of the room. “I’m going to the toilet!” When the footsteps faded a wave of calm washed over them, the remainder of the group exchanging glances and casual rolls of their eyes.
“Now we can sleep!” Konoha declared all too gleefully, arms thrown up whilst he flopped backwards, landing in a heap of limbs amidst his bedsheet. With approving grunts Washio and Onaga retreated likewise, settling down to sleep after tugging the curtains across the window to block out some light.
As for Sarukui and Komi… they found it necessary to remain suspiciously close to one another. Arching a brow slowly, Akaashi observed their little set up in the darkness of the room: blankets were overlapped, figures very, very snug against one another and…
Hold it, was Komi the big spoon?
“Psst-”
A harsh whisper tore Akaashi from that amusing revelation, near on smirking when he spotted a black blur of sorts rise from their gathered silhouette. One of the two, Sarukui most likely, gave a not-so polite finger gesture and a snicker.
“Fetch the grumpy idiot already, you damn voyeur.”
Hmm… Yes. It was about time.
“Alright, sleep well, both of you.”
Rising soundlessly to his feet Akaashi made his way to the door, closing it just in time to catch a brief snippet of Konoha’s disapproval towards the cuddly goings on nearby. Don’t misunderstand; he held no ill feelings towards the pair. No, if Akaashi had anything to say about it, he’d reckon Konoha secretly wanted in on their group…
And that, he reminded himself, was a thought best left untold. Lest he have the entire team question his sanity and assume he spent the majority of his time pairing up his own friends like some mother eager to marry off her children.
Swiftly locating the bathroom, Akaashi recognised the slumped shoulders of his captain, and the awful tension that lingered overhead. The hands that gripped hold of the sink edge were whitened at the knuckles; head hung forward whilst occasional ragged breaths rolled from parted lips.
Dejected mode had commenced.
Placing one foot carefully in front of the other, Akaashi made to close the gap between them, voice hushed when he eventually spoke up. “Bokuto-san…?”
“Mngh.”
Childish, as ever.
The moment Akaashi approached Bokuto tensed up, head jerking away with a pout. Thankfully an abundance of experience in such times taught Akaashi to be bold and move closer, leaning round until it proved impossible for Bokuto to avoid his gaze.
“Koutarou.”
That did the trick.
With a subtle twitch Bokuto’s cold, steeled glare relaxed, wavering in uncertainty. “Sorry, I needed some space.”
“There’s nothing to apologise for.” Akaashi insisted with an airy sigh. “Although, you know full well they’re just teasing...”
Nodding gently, Bokuto acknowledged the comforting warmth of the hand upon his shoulder, causing an unusual surge of guilt to wash over. “They weren’t wrong though. Back then, that really was why I-”
“Enough.” The sensation of soft lips against his was enough to stifle any further rambling, and calm whatever soppy flood he had almost set loose. Akaashi did not desire to spend even more precious rest time consoling the poor sod.
Upon pulling back, slender fingers laced their hands together and gave a gentle pull in the direction of the bathroom door. Needless to say the abrupt silence concerned Bokuto, had he upset Akaashi somehow…?
Tugging away in defiance, he managed to still their pace. “Akaashi, before we go back… I just wanted to say something.”
Right then, more than anything, Akaashi longed for a good night’s sleep. Contrary to such desires, multiple obstacles of a distinct Bokuto-like form insisted on blocking that path, rendering him little choice but to indulge in the meantime. “… Go on.”
This would not do. Bokuto may have been slow on many an uptake, but he knew all too well when he was being humoured. Prying their hands apart, he swiftly latched onto Akaashi’s upper arms and turned him round, earning a look of bewilderment.
“Keiji, pay attention.”
In that instant of wonderment Akaashi confessed to three things: One, his control of the situation had slipped... Two, he really didn’t care for that detail, and three… Bokuto’s stern, determined gaze was fairly arousing. Thank goodness he wasn’t like this all the time, or so help him Akaashi would be in a world of trouble.
“I’m listening.”
Recognising the sincerity in his response, Bokuto firmly shook his head up and down with a weird grin. Paired with his hair, which flew madly in all directions as he moved, Akaashi’s potential issue downstairs was resolved entirely. “I just… I know I can be a handful… selfish… loud… rude…”
“Really loud.”
“Yeah, you get my drift. Well, what I wanna’ say is I’m very happy.”
“That’s good.” Akaashi replied in earnest relief. Even so, hesitation lingered yet, Bokuto’s teeth nipping at his own lower lip. “I meant I’m happy that uh, well… that you decided to join us. Ever since you showed up I’ve enjoyed the games more, I feel like I’ve played better too, we all have.”
Uh oh, he was becoming sentimental.
“Bokuto-san, perhaps we should go sle-”
Alas, Bokuto refused to surrender so easily, cutting in. “Look, I’m sure that day was pretty horrid, especially when you hit me with the ball.”
“No kidding…”
Releasing a weighted breath, Akaashi did his utmost to restrain the prickly heat that threatened to colour his cheeks, but to no avail. It was a detail that Bokuto picked up on immediately, evoking a warm smile in return. “I’m really glad you did it though, otherwise we wouldn’t be where we are today, right? So… thanks for joining the team, Keiji.”
Patiently observing, Bokuto revelled in the beautiful moment that his stoic setter melted. Hm… was melted the right word? Hell if Bokuto knew, but the tell-tale fingers and barely visible tremble were proof enough that Akaashi had been hit hard by his words.
“I-Idiot… don’t say such things…”
Ah, he was right.
“C’mere.” Seeing no better solution than to hug things out, he drew Akaashi into an embrace. The deed was met with gratefulness, having enabled Akaashi to effectively mask his blush. Moreover, he was still incredibly fond of those muscles, and would be a fool to reject getting closer to them. (Another belief he had yet to voice.)
“Koutarou…?” Swallowing hard, Akaashi detected the beginnings of his own emotional downpour. A wild flicker in the back of his mind half convinced him that perhaps… just perhaps, a little longer like this wouldn’t hurt…
“THE TIME!!”
Never mind, scratch every single one of those romantic ideas. Akaashi gave a light shove to the now yelling moron’s chest. “What on earth are you shouting about?!”
“It’s so laaaaaaaaaaaaate!!” Bokuto screeched, waving frantically to the nearby clock on the wall.
Flap, flap, flap… sometimes he really could resemble a bird.
Turning on his heel, Akaashi made for the door. He was done with a capital D, and the single remaining comfort in his life, his bed, awaited him.
“Akaaaashi! Don't leave me!”
In their short but eventful time of knowing one another, Bokuto remained nothing short of an inexplicable mystery. Yes, it was late… and yes, they were still awake, hence Akaashi’s desperation to get him back to their room.
Why then, pray tell, Bokuto had seen fit to hurl Akaashi over his shoulder in the process, was most definitely beyond him.
“I can walk!” The rapid protest declared, Akaashi wriggling about.
“We’ll get there faster this way!” Bokuto insisted, having looped his arm around Akaashi’s lower back to steady him. By all means that hand absolutely wanted to go lower, but he knew better than to push his chances.
“Hey, hey, hey!!”
Like heroes returning from the battlefield, their arrival unsurprisingly met with claps and whistles. Nobody in the team seemed to comprehend a shred of regard for just how ridiculously late, or early rather, it was. A time to cheer was a time to cheer.
Akaashi simply hoped it wouldn’t come to bite them come match time…
“How lovely of you two to join us!”
“Snuggle up tight, little lovebirds!”
THUMP.
No, Bokuto hadn’t just dropped Akaashi. Concentrating, they determined the source of the noise to have come from the wall closest to Sarukui and Komi, who began to laugh when a familiar voice, albeit somewhat muffled, could be heard.
“If you owls don’t shut up soon I’m coming in there to sort you out! It’s 3am for crying out loud!!”
Rather than take the threat seriously and display an ounce of maturity, Bokuto set Akaashi down and joined Konoha, Komi and Sarukui in booming various hoot calls through the wall.
“Sorry bro I forgot you need that beauty sleep! Are you using one or two pillows for your hair tonight?!”
“You know I always use two!”
“It’s actually three; if you count the fact he sleeps face down on one as well.” Akaashi muttered whilst he lay down to curl up in his blanket, imagining all too well the rage that must’ve been on Kuroo’s face. Pointless to say it was Kenma he pitied the most, although that kid stayed up till who knows when playing videogames, so this was likely nothing to him.
“Guys, seriously.” Kuroo, all his faults cast aside, managed to summon the willpower to calm down. “If you don’t keep quiet, I’m sending Yaku in there.”
Aha, cat mum.
Captain or not, Kuroo didn’t faze the owls in the slightest. Yaku on the other hand, affectionately labelled cat mum, was without doubt a serious threat. Grumbling the occasional profanity and trundling back to their beds, the four discontented owls made to settle down at long last in defeat. Not before giving Kuroo a piece of their mind, at least.
“Goodnight princess, I hope your precious locks get squashed!” Bokuto scoffed, plopping himself all too clumsily up against Akaashi’s back and tossing his blanket over them both. It was only when Kuroo wisely chose not to retort, that their dispute was brought to an end.
Welcoming the additional warmth, Akaashi felt the blissful grasp of sleep fast approaching. Bokuto’s breaths had grown soft in the meantime, and the arm loosely draped over his waist stilled.
Silence is golden they say, and if he could weigh it up, Akaashi reckoned himself a wealthy and fortunate person indeed.
“Hey, guys..? Who wants to hear about the time Bokuto tried for the volleyball club?”
“Oh my- Saru shut up you prick!”
For the most part, anyway.