Chapter Text
Four white walls, a bed, and a simple soft glow from the sun illuminating the space. You took note of the way a subtle breeze coming from the open window made every loose item shudder. There was only a soft ring from the wind chime you had just finished hanging up; no other sound dared to break the silence, a shallow breath or two maybe, but nothing you could call whole. The serenity of it all did not put you at ease, but this was what you were used to.
Spending days on end in this room like another one of the dust bunnies clinging to the walls has put a great damper on your mood. If you could see her face, her real face and not the one lifelessly gazing off into nowhere, you would probably be capable of doing anything other than a slight frown with a wrinkle in your brow.
In the wooden chair you decorated so long ago with a blanket and a cozy cushion for more comfortable staring. It's hard to imagine yourself just four months ago, a completely different person, sitting in the same chair that hasn’t moved since. You looked like a nonpartisan bystander, so full of neutrality or just plain defeat.
You try to imagine what she would say.
“You always look so sad when you visit me.” You pretend you can hear her melodic voice again. “The least you can do is give me a smile or two.”
But then again you forget what her voice really used to sound like.
So, you got up and left, not so much as a goodbye or a simple glance back at the stoic scene. All attachment forgotten and left behind for the constant rush of life to sweep it away forever. You have no remorse for your cold behavior, it's not like anyone was there to remember the way you shunned the stagnant figure resting woefully on the bed.
After a short walk, you shuffle through the door of your uncle’s apartment with a sigh. Another day, another faceful of smoke you hoped was only your uncle and not an actual fire. You’d think your nose would be totally accustomed to the smell of burning by now, but every time it still seems to catch you by surprise. There is no rush behind your steps; you even stop to politely take off your shoes.
You find the kitchen engulfed in grey smoke and your useless uncle swatting at a threatening cloud closest to the fire alarm with a mitten while also trying to scrape a mess of food off the stove. He wobbled back and forth on a chair you knew was held together by nothing but prayers, a mess of indiscernible mush and utensils littered the countertops surrounding him like he literally was a hurricane set out to destroy his own home.
“I’m home, Takeda,” you say defeatedly. You’re already making quick work of putting out the source of the smoke which was a pan full of overflowing water and a mysterious gooey substance floating in it.
“Oh! You aren’t supposed to be home for another hour or so.” He replies with a nervous chuckle.
“Wasn’t much to do, so I came home early.”
You brought the mysterious concoction to the sink and then pulled Takeda off the wobbly chair he thought would make a good stool; he uttered little protest as you smothered the chaos little by little.
“You know housewives used to get hit for not being able to cook.” You look back at him with a sinister glint in your eyes and an abandoned spatula you picked up from the counter.
“W-Why do you bring that up?”
“No reason, “ you say as you swat his arm as hard as you could, effectively shooing him out of the small kitchenette. “Just a fact I think you should keep in mind from now on.”
He sighs, using the bottom of his shirt to wipe up the sweat from his brow; he mutters a soft apology. “I thought I could at least manage soup, but time got away from me, and it ended up…”
“A flaming pile of inedible, unsalvageable sludge.”
“Ouch.” He chuckles at your brutal statement. He looks around the messy countertops for a solution, yet finds none.
“Guess I’ll just order out then.”
It hasn’t been long since you moved into uncle Takeda’s small apartment made for one, merely a few months. After your father passed, and your– well, it’s unimportant. Just that you had to transfer to a whole different prefecture and room with your uncle for the time being. Though it hasn’t been ideal, Takeda has made getting situated a little easier. When he’s not trying to burn down the building anyway.
Once things settled down, you let silence befall you, and you both fell into a steady rhythm as you cleaned.
“Well, how was she today?” He said, without looking at you.
You knew he already knew the answer, as much as you visited those four white walls; it could never compare to how much Takeda pesters the hospital over the phone on a daily basis.
“I said how—”
“I heard you the first time.” You whacked him again, this time with a wooden spoon. “Geez.”
Except you didn’t have a good reply to give him. Nothing has changed. Nothing ever changes with her. But you still tied together the best response you could: “She’s fine.”
He hummed, “I know it seems hard now, but things will get easier. Trust me.”
“Coming from someone I can’t leave alone for a few hours, I’m not sure I can trust you with anything.”
“I don’t do it on purpose! It just happens,” he huffs. “It's just, you always handle things on your own. I know that's what you’re used to, but I need you to know you don’t have to. I may not seem like it, but I can handle some of the heavy lifting here and there.”
“What I’m trying to say is, I’m here for you.”
Takeda is a good man but you don’t know how many times you’ve heard that before. There's always something that tells you it's just not true, no mater who you hear it from. That it's only one of those lines they steal from the movies because they don’t know what else to say. Deep down you know there's nothing anyone can do for you.
Before you could reply, his phone started to ring.
“Sorry, I have to take this.”
You watched him walk out the door, babbling about whatever business was so important they had to call mid saturday afternoon about. Not even a minute later your uncle bursts back in with a flush in his cheeks like he had just run a mile.
“Karasuno volleyball club just got invited to a summer training camp!” He shouts excitedly.
“That's great.” You pause. “What does that mean exactly?”
“I’m not really sure either... but Nekoma’s coach says it’ll be essential to the improvement of Karasuno’s volleyball club. Plus we’ll get to practice with four other prestigious teams!” He paces around the length of the living room sofa with a crazed look in his eye.
“Sounds like fun,” you say with amazement.
Takeda’s mood always seemed to be so contagious. That, and you’ve always had a special interest in volleyball. Not that you would ever admit that to Takeda, in fear he eventually talk your ear off about the parts of the game you have absolutely no care for.
“It will be!” He pauses his steps, and looks directly at you.
For a moment you think he might just be exploding with pure enthusiasm before he says with a concerning finality, “and I think you should come along.”
Huh?