Chapter Text
Loud. Boisterous. Overwhelming.
Those were just a few words that came to mind the first time Akaashi met Bokuto Koutarou. It was during volleyball tryouts, his first day at Fukurodani, when the spiky-haired teen had bounded up to him, asking what position he played. When Akaashi replied with “Setter,” Bokuto looked ready to crawl out of his own skin with excitement. He was then reprimanded by the captain for not helping set up the gym and sent to do laps.
But that was only the beginning of Akaashi’s strange relationship with the spiker. Every day, Bokuto begged Akaashi to set to him after practice—“Just a few balls, Akaashi! I promise we won’t stay too late!” A few balls turned into hours, and Akaashi returned home exhausted every night, aching from head to toe thanks to Bokuto’s boundless energy.
Bokuto was not a regular on the team. There were five third-years, three of whom were wing spikers. Akaashi could tell Bokuto tried to take it in stride. But he was constantly itching to play, to make a name for himself. And unfortunately, the third-years didn’t take it well. Akaashi often heard them talking about Bokuto, how unreliable he was, how unpredictable, how stupendously dumb.
At first, the comments were easy enough to ignore. Akaashi didn’t know Bokuto all that well, and as far as he knew, they could’ve been true. The seniors shouldn’t have been talking about him behing his back, but what was a team without a little drama?
However, as he got to know Bokuto, he couldn’t ignore them. Sure, Bokuto’s mood swings could be slightly inconvenient—especially the first time Akaashi encountered one on his own. But he had an easy enough time letting Bokuto fizzle out. And after that, he was always right as rain. He was also more skilled than the seniors gave him credit for. The third-year setter hadn’t bothered to learn Bokuto’s style, hadn’t tried to adjust to Bokuto simply because he didn’t have to. But Bokuto was powerful, and his abilities rivaled even the ace of the team. He just needed someone to help him bring it out.
What Akaashi had the hardest time refuting was the claim that Bokuto was, in fact, dumb. He didn’t do very well in class, and he did even worse on his homework. He’d barely managed to move on to the second year, getting by on sheer luck and the skin of his teeth. He’d been through countless tutors, study groups, and even a boot camp-like session over the summer. Nothing helped. His grades still suffered.
But Akaashi couldn’t give up. He’d managed to reign in Bokuto’s mood swings. He’d managed to fine-tune his skills as a spiker. And he would help Bokuto pass his classes.
Which is why, on a Friday after practice, he approached Bokuto on a mission. The spiker seemed taken aback by Akaashi’s fierce expression.
“Hey, hey, Akaashi. You okay?” he asked tentatively as he pulled a clean shirt over his head.
“Do you have plans this afternoon?” Akaashi countered.
“Um… Not that I… No, no, I don’t,” Bokuto replied.
“You do now.”
“I do?”
“You’re coming with me to the library,” Akaashi nodded firmly. “And we’re studying.”
“Wait, really?” Bokuto looked confused.
“Bring all your books,” Akaashi said.
“Tch, good luck with that.”
Akaashi glanced behind him toward the skeptical voice. The third year who spoke—the team’s current ace—was staring at them with a smug expression. In fact, most of the team was watching them curiously.
“Thank you,” Akaashi said with a blank expression and a nod. He was sure that the ace was trying to goad him on. But Akaashi knew better. He knew how to deal with the older boy—by feigning ignorance.
The tick in the boy’s jaw meant Akaashi was successful. “The captain last year tried to tutor Bokuto, and he gave up after two days. He’s an idiot.”
“Hey, knock it off,” another third year tried weakly.
“What, you don’t think he’s an idiot?” the ace countered. “Come on. He even knows it too. Aren’t you an idiot, Bokuto?”
Akaashi turned his gaze back toward Bokuto. He was staring at the bench in front of him, eyes seemingly glued to a knick in the wood. His fingers fidgeted between one another. He tried to smile—though it looked more like a grimace.
“Yeah, I… I’m not very smart,” he agreed. His voice was smaller than Akaashi had ever heard it.
Akaashi felt a surge of anger. If he were less in control of his emotions, he’d yell—though why he felt it was his mission to defend Bokuto, he couldn’t say. Instead, he utilized his best weapon: more feigned ignorance. This time, he ignored the third-year completely.
“We’ll be there until closing time, so we can stop for food before we study,” Akaashi said.
“Your treat?” Bokuto asked, grinning sheepishly.
“I think it should probably be your treat,” Akaashi noted.
“Ah, Yukie’s gonna have to lend me some money then,” Bokuto laughed, rubbing the back of his neck.
“I suppose it’ll have to be my treat then,” Akaashi said, rolling his eyes.
“Well come on, Akaashi! Let’s go! Time’s a’wastin’!”
They ignored the pointed stares from the rest of the team, the glare from the ace as they strode past him and out the door of the clubroom. And Akaashi tried to ignore the furtive glances Bokuto continued to shoot his way. He didn’t have time to be distracted. He was on a mission.
Akaashi realized about half an hour in that he was fighting an uphill battle. Bokuto’s trouble with school was not for lack of trying. He’d spent 10 minutes trying to understand what the first question was asking of him, and 10 more trying to explain his reasoning to Akaashi—reasoning that was full of stuttered um’s and made absolutely no sense. And now, for 10 minutes, he’d been doodling at the corners of the paper, numbers and pictures of owls and a little sketch of himself spiking a toss over the net.
“Bokuto-san, were you listening to me?” Akaashi asked suddenly.
Bokuto glanced up at Akaashi, his mouth open wide enough to catch flies. Akaashi knew two minutes into his explanation Bokuto wasn’t listening anymore.
“Sorry,” Bokuto murmured, dropping his pencil onto the table. “I… I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Akaashi replied. “It’s just, if this doesn’t make sense, we’ll have to try something else.”
“It doesn’t,” Bokuto admitted. “It never does.”
He fell back into his chair, staring listlessly at the paper in front of him. Akaashi shuffled the papers in front of him. They didn’t need shuffling. But he had to look anywhere but at Bokuto’s despondent expression.
“Hey, Akaashi?”
Well, he couldn’t avoid looking at him forever. Akaashi glanced up to see Bokuto watching him closely, the forlorn expression never wavering.
“Yes?”
“I just… I just wondered why you’re helping me,” Bokuto mumbled.
“Why wouldn’t I help you,” Akaashi countered.
“’Cause it’s not like it’ll help,” Bokuto huffed. “It never helps. I’m too dumb.”
“Don’t say that,” Akaashi said brusquely.
“But it’s—“
“Don’t.”
Bokuto’s lips contorted into a grimace. He wanted to argue more. But Akaashi’s clipped tone clearly made his words stick in his throat. Akaashi reached out and grabbed the paper from in front of Bokuto. He glared at the equations, trying to figure out how better to explain them to Bokuto. But something caught his eye.
“Bokuto-san… What are these?” he asked, gesturing to the doodles in the page’s corners.
“Nothin’,” Bokuto shrugged.
“What does that mean?
“I was just drawing stuff,” Bokuto explained. “I always draw owls when I’m bored. And then this one, oh this one, it’s from earlier today when you—“
“Those are nice, but I was talking about the numbers,” Akaashi cut him off gently. “Do you… Do you know what these are?”
“Um… Numbers?” Bokuto asked, his voice unsure.
“Bokuto-san…” Akaashi spoke slowly. “These are the answers.”
Bokuto’s brows came together in confusion. He leaned closer to Akaashi, appraising the paper closely. Akaashi could almost see his eyes glaze over as he stared at the numbers.
“You really didn’t do this on purpose?” Akaashi queried.
“No, I was just writing stuff,” Bokuto shrugged. “I always do that.”
Akaashi dug around in his bag, pulling out a piece of scratch paper. He bent low over it, scribbling out a few equations. Boktuo watched him closely.
“What are you doing?” the older boy asked.
Akaashi passed the paper across the table. “Just read it, don’t focus too hard on it. Then do whatever you want.”
Bokuto looked confused, but he complied. His eyes scanned over the equations so fast, there was no way he’d retained any of them. But Akaashi didn’t care about that. He cared about the doodles. Bokuto’s drawings started at the top left corner of the paper. First he scetched out yet another horned owl. Then he moved on to a tree. Then came the numbers, all out of order, some bigger than others, some smaller. But as they came together, Akaashi’s mouth fell open.
“That’s the answer,” he murmured.
“What?” Bokuto peered up at him.
“You just answered the first question,” Akaashi repeated.
“Really?” Bokuto perked up as he looked down at the page again. “Awesome!”
“And you really didn’t mean to?” Akaashi pressed.
“No!” Bokuto exclaimed. The librarian poked her head around the corner and shushed him. “Hey,” his voice dropped as he leaned toward Akaashi. “Do you think… Maybe I’ve been getting ‘em right all the time? ‘Cause I always doodle like that.”
“I think you have,” Akaashi nodded slowly, staring back down at the paper. “This is brilliant.”
When Bokuto said nothing, Akaashi glanced up at him. The expression he wore wasn’t what Akaashi expected. His brows were furrowed together in consternation as he appraised Akaashi. His mouth was drawn in yet another grimace.
“Akaashi,” he said slowly. “Are you… Are you making fun of me?”
“What?” Akaashi retorted. “No. Of course not.”
“It sounds like you are,” Bokuto mumbled. “People call me smart when they’re making fun of me, ‘cause they’re actually calling me stupid…”
Akaashi reacted on impulse—for probably the first time in his life—and reached for Bokuto’s hand. The contact seemed to surprise the older boy. But he didn’t pull away.
“I would never call you stupid,” Akaashi promised. “And I wouldn’t make fun of you for this. I… I think you might be the smartest person I’ve ever met.”
“No way,” Bokuto snorted.
“Everything is inside your head, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi insisted. “You know it all. And we’re going to get it out. We’ll figure out how.”
“We?” Bokuto repeated.
“We,” Akaashi nodded.
“Are you sure you’re not making fun of me?”
“No. Not about this.”
It took a minute for Bokuto’s expression to soften. But Akaashi wasn’t prepared for what would happen when it did. The smile that spread over Bokuto’s face was wide and genuine, one Akaashi had never seen him wear before. He smiled often, of course. But it was never like this—never this genuinely happy. The corners of his eyes crinkled as his eyes squinted. There was a dimple, just one, on the left side of his face.
Akaashi tried to ignore the tightness in his chest, the way his stomach clenched at that smile. He blinked away the confusion, doing his best to return to the task at hand.
And in that moment, Akaashi Keiji decided two things.
1. That people would know Bokuto Koutarou was a genius.
2. That Bokuto would be smiling like that more often.