Chapter Text
[Interview excerpt from November 2016]
Enaga Fumi: I’ve been wanting to speak with you for a while, so before I ask you anything, I would like to thank you for your time and for accepting this interview.
Hinata Shouyou: It’s no problem at all! It’s been so long since I’ve done an interview in my language.
EF: I can imagine. How is it across the ocean? Do you ever lonely?
HS: Yeah, of course, luckily I’m not totally alone. My roommate is super cool and my friends from Japan facetime me often.
EF: What time is it for you? Quite early, I suppose?
HS: Yeah, it’s— It’s still early morning here. I usually go for a run at this time of the day.
EF: I take it you’ve established a solid routine over the past year?
HS: I kind of have to, if I want my body to stay strong and be able to keep up. My brain, too. There’s a lot of new information to process. I need to be very careful with my sleep schedule and nutrition.
EF: Have you eaten good food since you got here? Local dishes, perhaps?
HS: Yeah! It was actually a bit overwhelming at first—there’s just… so much, and I wanted to try everything I could get my hands on. I’ll admit I’ve made myself sick a few times over new food.
EF: I understand, though. Food is the most exciting part of traveling.
HS: True! That’s exactly what I said to my friend Kenma when I first got here, and he didn’t get it. I’m glad someone agrees.
EF: Kenma? Kozume Kenma?
HS: Hmhm. He’s my sponsor here. You should go watch his streams or whatever it’s called, I don’t— Am I allowed to say this? I’m saying it anyway. Subscribe to Kodzuken!
EF: [laughing] I doubt my audience has yet to discover the god of iRacing.
HS: I’ve actually been training a lot on the simulator recently. It’s not as effective as being in the actual car of course, but it’s terribly useful for data gathering and memorizing routes. You get lost easily, believe it or not.
EF: [laughing] Really? I wouldn’t have guessed.
HS: Yeah, and then someone has to come fetch you and show you back to the main road like the cloud dude in Mario Kart. I’m a terrible gamer, so I’m familiar with the guy.
EF: You raced in the Dakar Rally at the beginning of the year. How would you rate the experience?
HS: Out of ten? Man, I don’t know… It had to have been at least nine, right? It was crazy! We had to change routes a bunch of times because of the rain. Oh, can’t forget about the tire that blew up mid-stage. It was so freaking hot out there and replacing it took forever.
EF: It must have been scary! Or… maybe not?
HS: Honestly? I’ve never felt so excited to be driving in my life. I guess that’s what they call the true rallying experience.
EF: You must know this already, but your decision to branch off from formula racing temporarily was greatly unexpected. Who did you tell first when you made that decision?
HS: [laughing] I mean, my manager was the first to know, of course, but… apart from them, it was actually my old karting coach.
EF: What was their reaction?
HS: Well… Ukai Ikkei, you see, he’s something of a living legend where I’m from. Had a long career and worked with many F1 drivers. So when his grandson became the co-owner of a karting track, people put a lot of expectations on his shoulders. But to me, he was just Coach Ukai, I guess. Kinda gruff and intimidating. A really good listener, too. I don’t know why, though, I didn’t think he would— You know when you’re a kid and you only see people a certain way, but then you grow up and it’s like you learn to know them all over again?
EF: I… think so?
HS: Yeah. It was kind of like that.
June 2015, Miyagi Prefecture
The bike ride over the mountain was a fairly long one. About forty-minute for the average person; only half an hour for Hinata Shouyou. When he was younger, he used to make the trip twice a day on the weekends to go to the outdoor karting track, regardless of the weather. Shouyou was old enough to drive there, now—in a sense, he was somewhat overqualified for the task. This time, he decided to hop on his beat-up bicycle instead and enjoy the warm evening while he could.
Shouyou was rarely in Japan, these days. The race calendar dropped him off in a different country every other week and he found living in Europe easier to support his hectic schedule, which had gotten considerably busier since joining the GP2 Series in 2014. He didn’t complain, though. Racing cars for a living had been his dream ever since he had watched his first Formula One Grand Prix on TV nearly twelve years ago, and at nineteen years old, Shouyou was well on his way to achieving it.
Yet there he was on the first day of his summer break back in the prefecture, dreading a conversation he’d meant to have for months and freaking out like a little kid.
“What am I even gonna say?” he lamented, slouching on his bike’s handlebar. “Hey coach, long time no see! I’m about to do something very stupid and potentially throw away my entire career, watch me!”
Alright, perhaps he was overreacting. Changing course mid-career was unusual, but it wouldn’t automatically screw him over. Hopefully. And it wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about it either; Shouyou had at least a pretty good idea of what he was getting into. For some reason, that didn’t make it any less daunting.
The old go-kart ring looked exactly the same as Shouyou remembered it. He could see the mountain of truck tires and the kart graveyard in the back, affectionately nicknamed Shipwreck Bay by Kiyoko. Some dog was barking a few streets over. The light of the clubhouse’s front door was on, which meant that Coach Ukai was still working in the garage.
Shouyou skimmed through the announcements on the whiteboard and found himself smiling for no particular reason. There were a list of upcoming go-kart events, ads from the local convenience store, an old sick notice from Takeda, an expired coupon. Some kids had doodled anime characters in a bottom corner. He only recognized a few of the names on the scoreboard, including Natsu’s. Shouyou wondered if the kids these days still hung out at the vacant lot down the hill after practice.
As expected, Ukai was elbow-deep into a kart engine and humming an old tune when Shouyou peeked inside the garage.
“Hey, coach!” he greeted, making Ukai jolt so hard he knocked over a box of screws and cursed out loud. “Whoops. Sorry.”
Ukai looked up and relaxed his shoulders. “Hinata. What’s up?”
“I just wanted to know if you had time for a chat. I know it’s late, so I can come back another day if you’d pref—”
“Nah, it’s fine,” Ukai cut in, grabbing a dirty cloth to wipe the car oil off his hands. “I was wrapping up anyway.”
Shouyou waited for him to switch off the light and close the door of the garage to follow him inside the clubhouse, taking a seat on one of the floor cushions. Ukai opened the mini-fridge and grabbed two beers, a silent offer.
“No, thank you.”
“Alright,” Ukai began, sitting down in front of Shouyou. “So how have you been?”
“Pretty good. Got great results this season. I take it the business is doing well too?”
“It’s definitely doing better since you guys left.” Shouyou must have made a face because the coach laughed. “I mean that kids look up to you all now. They want to be like the guys they see on TV.”
“Oh. Right. And Takeda Sensei? How is he doing?”
“He’s pretty busy, but it’s mostly my fault. He has to work more since I’m not here as often.”
“How come?”
Ukai’s lips curled into a grin. “I got a promotion at ART Grand Prix. You’re looking at their new team principal.”
“No way!” Shouyou exclaimed, eyes going wide. “That’s so awesome! The others are not going to believe this.”
“Oh, they already know,” Ukai said, reaching to grab the cigarette pack on the table behind him. “You and Kageyama were the only ones left.”
“Right,” Shouyou muttered, feeling himself deflate a little. “You know, I, uh… I got a bunch of offers from F1 teams.”
“Really? That’s great, kid!”
Shouyou chuckled and tried not to sound like he was panicking. “Yeah. Yeah, it is. But uhm…”
He wiped his hands on his jeans. What the hell was he getting so worked up for? He’d already made his decision, and besides, this was just Coach Ukai. Sure, he could get scary at times, but Shouyou wasn’t a child anymore. He could speak for himself—not that he’d ever gotten into the habit of doing otherwise.
“I think I’m gonna turn them down.”
The ceiling lamp was making a faint buzzing sound. Shouyou wondered when the lightbulb had last been replaced.
“Can I ask why?”
“Well, I’ve been wanting to try out rallying for a while, and I don’t want to wait until the end of my formula career to do it. I feel like I’ve got a lot to learn from other disciplines.”
His mouth felt dry. He probably should have asked for a glass of water.
“I know it’s unconventional. Probably not advisable either. It’s just that… Kageyama already has a seat in F1, and I can’t let him beat me, you know? How am I supposed to become the best if I don’t know what’s out there? I don’t want to look back on my career in twenty years and feel like I’ve gone in circles. I want to try as many things as I can and become worthy of my title in the future.”
Ukai took a deep breath and tilted his head from where it was resting in his palm. Shouyou had been wrong about the go-kart circuit; something was definitely different from the last time he’d seen it.
He looked at his former coach’s face, older and a little wiser, and he knew that he was making the right decision.
“You do know that I can’t tell you what to do, right?” Ukai finally said, eyes serious. “If that’s what you really want, I won’t do anything to stop you.”
“I know,” Shouyou replied earnestly, hoping to match Ukai’s seriousness. “I wanted to tell you because you were one of the first to believe in me and I wouldn’t be here without you. I think it’s time I prove that you weren’t wrong for having faith in my abilities.”
“Jesus Christ, kid,” Ukai croaked, and Shouyou wondered if he’d said something out of line. “It’s Wednesday night, spare a guy.”
“I’m… sorry?”
Shouyou watched the coach light a cigarette and tilt his head back.
“You know I’m proud of you all, even if you were a real pain in my ass sometimes—most of the time. You could wind up selling fake crystals on a beach in Brazil, for all I know, and I wouldn’t feel any different.”
Shouyou gawked at him, choked up.
“Coach!” he blurted. “That was so nice of you to say!”
“Yeah, yeah,” Ukai mumbled with a dismissive hand gesture. “Don’t go repeating that around, will ya? Now, if you’re gonna do this, you’re gonna need contacts. Do you know where you want to go first?”
“I was thinking South America, since it’s where the Dakar Rally is. I’ve been wanting to do it since I was a kid. And then… Then if I’m ready, I want to try the World Rally Championship.”
Ukai blinked at him. “Okay. That’s… Yeah, I shouldn’t have expected any less from you. Let me just leave a message for the old geezer and see if he knows someone in the field. Unfortunately, I can’t do much for you right now since I don’t have any contacts—"
“That’s okay!” Shouyou assured. “I really appreciate your help regardless. I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”
He did not say that he had no idea how to proceed, but he thought that Ukai already knew. The fact that he had expressed his support was enough proof that Shouyou would turn out okay. At least he hoped that he would.
“Alright, shrimp,” Ukai said as he walked Shouyou back to the door later that night. He gave the redhead a once-over and sighed. “Good luck out there. It’s a big world, so don’t get eaten. Remember that you always need at least one good pair of socks.”
A wave of affection washed over Shouyou as he hugged Ukai. “I will.”
I will make you proud again.
The coach awkwardly patted his back and pulled away. “Now get outta here.”
“Yes sir.”
Shouyou rode back home with a lighter heart and a tune dancing on his lips. As he made his way past the houses he once knew, the thought of Kageyama briefly crossed his mind. He wondered if he ever took the time to visit his family, whether he would tell Shouyou if he did. Odds were he wouldn’t, but it didn’t stop him from wondering.
Shouyou wondered about a lot of things. He was still plagued with uncertainties, but he would overcome them in time. The world was waiting for him, and he felt stronger than ever.
November 2016, Rio de Janeiro
Seagulls and calm waves washing up to shore. The morning breeze caressed Shouyou’s sun-kissed skin and brushed stray hair out of his face. It probably ought to do with another trim soon.
Shouyou snapped one eye open to check the time on his phone and got to his feet, golden sand trickling from the folds of his shorts as he carelessly smoothed them out. The beady eyes of a painted cow stared back at him when he flipped the cover of the wallet case—courtesy of Natsu, her departing gift before he’d left for Brazil last year. He’d have stayed on the beach a little longer, but the temperature was already rising and Sugawara was supposed to call him at around seven.
“Cheguei,” Shouyou announced as he closed the apartment door behind him. Following the lack of response, he then walked over to Pedro’s bedroom to inform his roommate that he was going to be late for class, which was met with a noncommittal grunt. He shrugged and strolled back to the kitchen.
While waiting for his eggs to sizzle in the pan, Shouyou eyed the ugly Kodzuken mug Kenma had sent him last Christmas that was still laying around on the counter. His friends from high school had shipped him a box full of small gifts that year, goodies and whatever snacks they’d managed to fly over the border. An idea of Yachi and Yamaguchi, allegedly. And at the bottom of the box, the softest pair of socks Shouyou’s feet had ever been graced with.
He’d spent the rest of the evening bawling his eyes out.
His phone screen lit up with an incoming call and he moved to the dinner table with his plate.
“Shouyou!” Sugawara’s shaky image greeted him. Shouyou waited for it to stabilize and waved back.
“Hey Suga-san, ‘been a while!”
Sugawara visibly slumped on his chair and groaned loudly. “I know, right? Those parent-teacher interviews really sucked the life out of me, but I’m back and kicking now. So how are you?”
“I’m alright, just got back from a testing with my team for the championship. Trying to get some solid rest while I can.”
“As you should,” Sugawara merrily agreed. He did look more tired than the last time they’d spoken, but perhaps the colder and shorter days in the northern hemisphere had something to do with it.
Behind him, someone or something was causing a great amount of ruckus.
“Is Daichi-san here?”
“Yeah, he’s making dinner.”
Sugawara adjusted his laptop to show Daichi’s blurry silhouette, clad in a pink apron, gesturing a frying pan in his direction.
“Hi Shouyou! Hope you’re well, sorry for the noise.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it. Things are so quiet in my apartment I feel like crawling out of my skin.”
“Boring roommate?” Suga asked knowingly. Shouyou rushed to correct him.
“Pedro’s a cool guy! We talk about manga sometimes, even though it’s hard to communicate. But yeah, he’s sort of… private, I guess.”
Sugawara hummed, scratching his nose bridge. “Other than that, how are you holding up? Gotten homesick yet?”
“You have no idea,” Shouyou confessed with a sheepish laugh. “I’m pushing through, but I didn’t think it would get this bad, honestly.”
He watched his old friend lean forward to rest his chin on his forearms, a familiar motion that struck him with an overwhelming sense of recognition. He trusted Suga—always—to speak honestly, but he was never tactless.
“I’m sorry you’re having a hard time. I don’t really know how to help you with that, unfortunately; but you’ve always been a tough kid, eh? I believe in you. Is there anything specific you’re having trouble with?”
Shouyou leaned back in his chair, his plate pushed out of the way. Homesickness was no trickster—even the words to describe it were foreign to him, didn’t seem to roll off his tongue quite right.
He rubbed away the dull ache between his eyes and sighed.
“There’s so much I want to do, and it’s like… the world is so big, you know? For the longest time I felt like I was trapped inside this tiny little room, until I smashed down the walls and suddenly I could see everything. And it’s been great, going off-track and just exploring, but sometimes… I don’t know, sometimes I wish I could go back to that room for just a minute and I can’t, because the walls are gone.”
He bit his lip. What kind of moron didn’t know what to do with his luck? Sure, he worked all day and his car was constantly breaking down, but that was what he’d signed up for, wasn’t it? He was doing all of this so he could become a better driver—a worthy opponent. Complaining was out of the question.
“Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m probably not making any sense.”
There was only sympathy on Suga’s face when Shouyou risked a glance at his phone screen. Sugawara Koushi was known to be a little shit about seventy percent of the time, and his potential for mischief was doubled when he wasn’t acting alone. In some way, that made him the ideal elementary school teacher, if only for his ability to see the pranks coming before they could reach fruition. But mostly, Suga knew exactly when he ought to take a situation seriously and became completely impervious to distractions in the blink of an eye.
The way he was looking at Shouyou now—at least what he could make out of it—suggested that he was presenting him his utmost attention. Shouyou still wasn’t completely used to that. He’d grown up with teachers informing his mom during the quarterly interviews that he was a demanding child, and it always seemed to upset her that they would suggest her son was an attention-seeker. Was his desire to be listened to such a bad thing? It wasn’t like Shouyou wanted to hog all the attention for himself. It wasn’t like he was trying to be an inconvenience.
He was glad, really, to have crossed paths with Suga.
“You’ve made yourself quite clear, actually,” the latter said, his voice pushing against Daichi’s singing in the background. “It takes a lot of courage to abandon what you know, especially on such short notice and with no one to walk you through all the steps. No one’s blaming you for your longing. At least I sure as hell don’t.”
Shouyou’s face felt warm and a bit uncomfortable. “It’s not like I didn’t have a choice. I wanted this.”
“Shouyou,” Suga almost scolded. “You’re allowed to miss home. Why do you think I’m calling you right now? I don’t want you to live in isolation for two years, nor do the others.”
The silence was a bit more bearable as Shouyou soaked in Sugawara’s words, taking in their meaning and absorbing their warmth. It felt nice to be cared for, if he was honest. He didn’t like the idea that he needed it from other people, that it wasn’t something he could achieve on his own, but he supposed not everything had to rest on his shoulders.
“So… how’s the gang?” he asked.
Suga sighed, albeit fondly.
“Asahi swings by whenever he can, Kiyoko has been accepted for an internship with Red Bull Racing and that’s pretty much all she’s been talking about for two weeks. Honestly, she deserves it; she’s worked her ass off for that internship. Don’t tell Tanaka, but I don’t remember her being this excited when the bastard proposed. Speaking of Tanaka, his project for the garage finally got greenlighted by the bank.” He huffed. “Greedy scumbags. Anyway, Yachi, Tsukishima, and Yamaguchi have all passed their midterms, I think. Last I heard from them, they were trying to drag Tsukishima to a student party downtown. Narita and Kinoshita are alright, as far as I can tell, and Nishinoya’s still off to gods know where.”
Sugawara scratched his nose pensively.
“Everyone’s busy, these days. It’s hard to get people together to do anything.”
There was another pause after that. Shouyou chewed on his cheeks until he couldn’t keep it in anymore.
“And Kageyama?”
“He’s alright,” Sugawara replied with a soft smile. “It’s a bit difficult to get a hold of him these days, but I give him a call every two weeks and from the looks of it he seems to be doing pretty well. Good performances on track too. Wait, have you seen that commercial of him and the milk carton?”
“Huh?”
“Hold on, I need to find it.”
“Are you showing him the milk commercial?” Daichi asked over the cacophony of cooking utensils.
“Yeah!” Sugawara turned his phone towards the camera and started giggling. “It’s awful, isn’t it?”
Shouyou brought his laptop close to his face, squinting his eyes as hard as he could. “Suga-san, I can’t see any of that.”
“Ah, well I’ll send you the link. Anyways, I need to tell you about the guy I ran into at the store yesterday. Do you remember that super tall kid who would always push people off the track and then blame it on understeer?”
“Lev? The half-Russian guy?” Shouyou suggested, vaguely recalling a green-eyed boy sulking by the wreckage of his go-kart. Daichi shouted something that sounded like “No way!” and Sugawara threw an arm over his chair to look at him.
“I know! Well apparently he’s a model now, and he recently posed for the next Dior campaign—"
Sugawara’s video froze mid-sentence.
“Wuh-oh,” Shouyou mumbled, checking his internet connection. “Suga-san?”
His phone stopped responding and he found himself kicked out of the call.
“Welp, there he goes.”
Sugawara texted him immediately to ask if he could call back, but Shouyou just said that he had to get around for work anyway. Still, he was grateful for their little conversation. He’d clearly needed it.
When Shouyou got off work later that afternoon, his limbs were aching with the urge to walk somewhere, anywhere, as long as he no longer felt trapped inside his tiny apartment. He could only take so many hours of simulator without seeing the outside world.
Rio de Janeiro was, as big cities tended to be, quite a lively place. He walked down a street he vaguely knew with no end destination in mind, looking at storefronts and the people going about their business. He wished somewhat absently that he could show Natsu around, watch her bounce from shop to shop and befriend random dogs on the streets. What could she be doing at this time of the year? She’d always been the brighter student, but he suspected that it had more to do with the hundreds of useful tricks she kept up her sleeves. A clever girl, that one. Shouyou had no doubt that she would one day surpass him in every way.
The pedestrian icon lit up and Shouyou was about to cross the street when a dreadfully familiar voice split the chatter of the crowd.
“No fucking way.”
His legs froze, hair standing on end as he slowly turned to the source of the voice.
Just a few feet away from him, blinker on, an old Ford Mustang was stalling at the traffic lights with the windows rolled down. Its driver leaned into the passenger seat and pushed his sunglasses down.
“Oikawa-san?”
The light turned green and Oikawa did a double take before the car behind him started to push.
“Ey, chill out, I’m going!” he shouted, stepping on the accelerator and turning back to Shouyou. “I’m pulling over, Shorty, you better not go anywhere!”
Shouyou had, decidedly, no intention of running away. He made his way through the swarm of pedestrians with clumsy apologies and spotted Oikawa waiting further down the street. Beside him stood a stern-as-ever Iwaizumi, his short dark hair and broad shoulders making him look even more intimidating than Shouyou remembered. He carefully walked up to them.
“I don’t like the smell of that sunscreen you gave me, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa complained, pushing his sunglasses further up his nose. “Ah, Shouyou. How’s it going?”
Shouyou stepped aside to avoid a collision with a pedestrian.
“Pretty good, thanks, but… What are you guys doing here? Isn’t the final round at the end of this month?”
“I wanted to visit Rio before flying to Interlagos,” Oikawa said, leaning into Iwaizumi’s space. “Now let me return the question: what are you doing here?”
“I live here!”
Oikawa looked genuinely baffled for a moment and Iwaizumi gently cuffed him on the back of the head.
“Yeah, dumbass, I literally told you about this. Do you not listen when I’m speaking?”
“Ouch, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whined, running a hand through his chocolate curls. “You wound me. Of course I listen to you!”
Iwaizumi looked skyward and back at Shouyou. “Sorry about him. I watched the Dakar Rally this year, by the way. Shit conditions, huh? Those floods looked impressive.”
Oikawa was still pouting. “Since when are you interested in that stuff?” he asked, though he was promptly ignored. Shouyou was somewhat startled himself—as far as he could recall, this was the first time he’d had a proper conversation with Iwaizumi. Luckily, he was being asked about his job, and the words came naturally.
“It’s fun, right? I think everyone should try it at least once, plus you get to ride with a co-pilot.”
Iwaizumi slung an arm around Oikawa’s neck and squeezed. “You hear that, Shittykawa? Something for you to do when the press decides you’re washed.”
“I beg your pardon!” Oikawa gasped. “I have barely entered my prime! I should fire you for these foul comments.”
“Have fun finding someone who knows all of your dumb habits and who tolerates you.”
“Have fun finding a better-looking, more talented athlete than me.”
Shouyou squinted as they wrestled for dominance. “So… I take it you’re his personal trainer, Iwaizumi-san?”
“I’m actually available for work as of ten seconds ago,” he grumbled, forcefully peeling Oikawa off him. Shouyou avoided another collision.
“We should probably get off the street,” he suggested when someone cursed them out for standing in the way. “Let me show you around!”
Iwaizumi’s phone rang and he glanced at the screen. “Shit, I forgot to confirm your appointment with Ennoshita.” His shoulder brushed against Oikawa’s as he walked around him. “I’ll join you guys in a minute, I just need to take this call.”
“Hurry up, Iwa-chan, I’m double parked and I don’t speak Portuguese,” Oikawa shouted after him. He huffed as Iwaizumi flipped him the bird.
“You’re a client of Ennoshita-san?”
Oikawa still had this weird look on his face that Shouyou wasn’t privy to when he turned around.
“Half the grid is. This man has magic hands, I swear. Anyway, what were you up to just now?”
“Oh, you know, just taking a walk. Stretching my legs. I don’t want to go home just yet.”
“I see. Iwa-chan will be busy tonight, so what do you say about going out for a bit? To catch up and everything.”
“Oh,” Shouyou said eloquently. “Sure.”
When they dropped Iwaizumi off at their hotel later that night and drove around the city, Shouyou took over the aux and sang (screamed, really) the lyrics of “Welcome To The Mato” until Oikawa was banging his head against the steering wheel.
“Turn that down before they kick us out of the drive-through,” the brunet threatened.
“I’m not sure Iwaizumi-san would approve of us ordering takeout,” said Shouyou, ignoring him to eye the building nervously.
“Iwa-chan isn’t here, now, is he?” Oikawa retorted, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “This can stay between us. Tonight, dear Shouyou, we are as free as birds.”
Childlike glee bubbled out of Shouyou’s chest and he laughed as Oikawa pulled out of the drive through. They found a quiet spot on a Carrefour parking lot where they sat on the concrete with the passenger seat open, letting Shouyou’s music play out while they unpacked their food. Soda cans popped open and they pretended to toast in honor of their unplanned reunion.
“Man, this is nice,” Oikawa said as he leaned back with a content sigh.
Shouyou just hummed. He honestly couldn’t remember the last time he’d hung out with someone like this—unrestrained, carefree. And with Oikawa Tooru, of all people? The idea would never have crossed his mind.
“We should take a picture,” he suggested, a little out of the blue. “I want Kageyama to see this.”
A knowing grin split the brunet’s face. “Ah, Tobio-chan. Of course.”
Shouyou eyed him wearily. “Yes. What about him?”
“Nothing. I was just wondering when he would come up, that’s all.”
Oikawa was acting awfully suspicious now. He sported the same lazy smile, only this time there was a dangerous edge to it as he unlocked his phone and conveniently avoided Shouyou’s gaze. Shouyou could feel his cheeks burning with everything left unspoken.
“Is there something I should know?”
“Hm, let’s see,” Oikawa mused, tapping one corner of his phone against his chin. “Have you heard the rumors about Romero leaving Ferrari? Apparently, he has yet to renew his contract.”
For once, Shouyou was at a loss for words. Nicollas Romero was practically a living legend on the grid. Known as the man who had hoisted Ferrari back to its former glory after the Scuderia’s downfall in the 2000s, he had been the single most dangerous threat to drivers up until the monster generation had come along. Romero breathed and bled Ferrari, and the thought of him wearing anything but red was foreign to anyone who grew up watching him on TV.
“I don’t see what that has to do with Kageyama,” Shouyou finally pointed out through a mouthful of food, fully aware that Oikawa knew exactly where he was going regardless. The latter leaned in with a malicious glint in his eye.
“My point is, in the event that the rumors are true, half of Ferrari’s seats will be vacant. And when that happens, who do you reckon’s best fit to take Romero’s place? I personally have my own idea,” Oikawa chirped. “Ideally, they’d recruit someone who’s green enough to be turned into a blank slate without too much effort. They would rather spend their resources polishing raw talent than fighting with an older driver who won’t meet their standards. Someone a little awkward to charm the crowd—I’m sure you can see it as well.”
“Kageyama charming people? Not with that personality,” Shouyou huffed. “And he’s been on the grid since 2013. He’s not exactly a rookie anymore.”
“That is true,” Oikawa said with the same sly expression. “But he’s still young and not quite seen yet. If, and that much isn’t guaranteed, Ferrari isn’t stupid enough to fumble the opportunity, they can make him their shiny new toy in no time. He’ll be a golden prince flitting around on his little prancing horse and the press won’t get enough of him.”
He marked a dramatic pause.
“Tobio-chan is endearing in many ways. It’s obviously something he can’t control, and I’m sure he’d rather avoid the media attention if he could, but the fact remains it’s a decisive factor in the public eye. You are not included in that. Yet you seem to agree with me… Could it be that whatever you see in that man is proof enough for you?”
Of course Shouyou believed that Kageyama would fit in at Ferrari. He was immensely talented and skilled—after all, they were rivals for a reason. Over the years, Shouyou had seen him grow into a confident driver who knew how to balance lenience and assertiveness as needed, and his precision was certainly cause for envy (not to Shouyou, though, obviously.)
So yes, Kageyama was more than a competent driver. Shouyou had no trouble admitting to that. He suspected, however, that Oikawa wasn’t really talking about skills and was actually trying to snake his way to a point, one just out of Shouyou’s reach.
“I don’t know why you’re telling me all this,” he mumbled.
“Oh, it’s really not that complicated,” Oikawa chimed, trading his rapacious grin for an obnoxiously merry one in the blink of an eye. “Surely you don’t need my help to figure that much out.” He tilted his head to the side. “Do you? No, I shan’t. Anyway, how about we take that photo instead of exchanging platitudes?”
Ten minutes and about fifty pictures later, Shouyou was scrolling through his phone gallery with his chin resting on the heel of his hand. Some of the photographs were blurry; most were canted. All of them radiated joy and the childlike exultation of being granted one night of freedom at the beginning of school break. On one particularly elaborate shot, Oikawa was splayed across the hood of his car with Shouyou at the wheel, and it would have painted a dramatic picture if they hadn’t been too drunk on late-night exhaustion to hold back their laughter.
He could already imagine Suga’s reaction when he would see the photo. He’d call him right away just to laugh in the receiver for five minutes, until Daichi would come over to check on him and Shouyou would not be able to fit a single word in. Or maybe this was a thing of the past. Maybe they all had better things to do, important business to go about that no longer involved their old group. Shouyou wondered if he’d better had left that part of him in Japan instead of dragging it around like extra weight.
“Hey, Earth to Shouyou. Get out of your own head.”
Shouyou met Oikawa’s gaze, sharp and calculating.
“Sorry. Got lost in thought for a second.”
“I can see that. Something bothering you?”
Shouyou stared at his food like the answer was lodged somewhere between two grains of rice. He reckoned it would be easier to extricate with a pair of chopsticks than with the plastic fork provided in the bag.
“I was just thinking of home,” he confessed. “I can’t wait to go back to Japan next year.”
“Yeah?”
“Hmhm. I want to see my mom and my sister again and I want to eat real onigiri. Also, it’s been a while since I’ve seen snow. I’m looking forward to that too.”
Oikawa nodded in a distant sort of way, like he understood the words but they didn’t reach his heart. Shouyou decided to push him, just a little, just to see what would happen.
“Do you go back often?”
The brunet rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Not really, no. It’s not that I don’t want to go back, it’s more that there’s nothing left for me there, you know? Everything I need is already within my reach. I see no point in reminding myself of what I had to sacrifice to get there.”
“I understand. We don’t necessarily share the same upbringing.”
Amusement sparked in Oikawa’s eyes. “Wise words, chibi-chan. You’ve changed a lot, y’know.”
Shouyou’s hand instinctively shot up to his hair. “Really? I didn’t think I looked that different. I mean, my hair’s definitely shorter, for sure…”
“That’s not what I meant,” Oikawa laughed. “It’s something in the way you speak. It’s okay if you don’t see it, it’s nothing to get worked up about. We’ve all changed a bunch, after all.”
“How much have you changed, Oikawa-san?”
Oikawa tapped his chin pensively. “Well, for starters I’ve got a new contract starting 2017. I’m leaving Red Bull for good.”
Shouyou’s eyes widened and he leaned forward. “Where did you sign?”
Oikawa smirked enigmatically. “I’m taking my chances with Mercedes. If a team can make me world champion, I believe it’s them. I don’t know if you’ve been keeping up with F1, but things are moving pretty fast. McLaren has managed to put together a killer team with that Miya-Bokuto pairing.” He took a bite of food and hummed, indifferent to Shouyou’s agitation. “Alright, what else… Oh.”
Oikawa freed his left hand to wiggle his fingers where a thin silver band was glistening in the artificial lights.
“Got engaged.”
Shouyou jerked up, spilling some of his drink on the asphalt. “What? Holy shit, when? I mean— Congratulations!”
Oikawa grinned, a little smug and completely fond. “Yeah. It was about time.”
“I can’t believe I haven’t noticed it until now… What the heck. I uninstall Twitter for a year and Oikawa Tooru decides to get engaged.”
“We haven’t announced it publicly,” Oikawa corrected. “If it were up to me I would not stop bragging about it, but I suppose I can put up with secrecy for the sake of Iwa-chan. This is one of the rare times I get to wear that thing around my finger.”
“My lips are sealed,” Shouyou promised, pretending to zip his mouth shut. “Won’t you get tired of keeping it a secret, though?”
Shouyou half expected Oikawa to sigh dramatically or do something equally over the top, but he looked perfectly at peace when he replied, “I may like being in the spotlight, but I don’t need it to feel complete. I would gladly give it up if only to show that I care. The rest is insignificant.”
A shiver ran down Shouyou’s spine. If he hadn’t fully understood what Oikawa had meant about him earlier, he definitely got it now. He spoke with a certain nonchalance, which wasn’t unusual in and of itself, but it implied something heavy and solemn that demanded to be taken seriously.
“What about the World Championship? How significant is that?”
Oikawa was toying with his phone now, repeatedly popping a corner of the case in and out of place. “That’s the big question, isn’t it? What am I willing to give up for it? I don’t really like to think about that, to be honest. I don’t think any of us does, probably because the answer would be ‘too much’. But you know, it’s weird how we hang onto this dream like it’s going to save us, even though racing is one of the deadliest sports out there.”
He scoffed.
“Whatever. I stopped trying to figure out what the hell’s wrong with me a long time ago. Racing is all I’ve ever known. I can’t imagine not dedicating every waking second of my life to it.”
Shouyou watched him pocket his cellphone in favor of playing with the silver band on his ring finger. The movement was clumsy, as though Oikawa had yet to perfect it. Was this why people got engaged? Because they still needed time? Was it to say, “I’ll be yours once I know how to love you properly”? Shouyou’s mother rarely spoke of these things with him. His grandmother was more inclined to, because she liked romantic movies and there would always be one playing on the TV when Shouyou came over.
“She left without saying goodbye,” he’d observed on one occasion, eyes trained on the yellow line of subtitles. “Why didn’t he go after her? Did he not love her?”
His grandmother had hummed knowingly. “I reckon it’s quite the opposite.”
“That doesn’t make any sense,” Shouyou pouted. “Sounds to me like he’s just wasting his time.”
His grandmother had laughed her sharp, crystalline laugh, and Shouyou’s frown deepened as he threw a look over his shoulder. She was chopping vegetables on the kitchen counter, humming to herself.
“Mom’s been waiting for a long time. I’m starting to think it’s not worth it.”
“What is?”
Shouyou made a vague gesture towards the TV. “All that… stuff.”
The humming paused. “Perhaps. Still, for what it’s worth or how little you think it is, my wish for you is to find someone you know will still be there when you come back around.”
What a strange moment to recall that conversation, Shouyou thought. Oikawa looked out of it too: his gaze was lost somewhere way past Shouyou and there was a crease between his eyebrows.
“I wonder if I’ll ever have enough of it,” he said. “If I’ll ever feel satisfied enough to announce my own retirement, or if I’ll be removed from my car for the last time after one too many crashes. People say it’s a privilege to decide when to retire, but I can’t see myself sitting around my living room knowing I can still drive and yet choosing not to do it. I don’t think that would sit right with me.”
Shouyou looked at him then, really looked at him, and put on his most serious expression.
“When I get into F1,” he said, “I’ll make sure to give you a proper fight. That way, even if you lose your legs or if you bash your head so hard you can’t remember my name, it won’t feel as though it was for nothing.”
Oikawa looked up, his lips parted in surprise, and grinned.
“That is quite the promise you’re making, Shouyou; you’d have to catch up to me first.”
His eyes softened impossibly.
“But I sincerely hope you do.”
March 2018, Barcelona
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…”
Shouyou eyed the long line that stretched from the public restroom, his race suit hanging loosely at his hips. The team wanted him in the car for testing in ten minutes max, but he had yet to find a single vacant toilet in the entire paddock. Just his luck.
“Change of plan,” he muttered, turning around with purpose. Someone had probably left an empty bottle of Perrier in the garage he could use.
Returning to the bright circuit lights and the organized chaos of the pit lane after two years of gravel and sandy roads proved itself a challenge in more ways than one, but Shouyou had faith. He remembered more about single-seaters than he’d thought and he had a good teammate beside him. Shouyou had contacted McLaren F1 Team as soon as Bokuto Koutarou had announced his departure back in 2017, on his manager’s advice—there was no telling when the next opportunity would arise after the seats were locked. Shouyou had little care for those things and much preferred forcing his way through, but he supposed that had been the right call. And Miya-san was a funny guy, so that was something he could rely on when team meetings bled too far into the night.
As he turned a corner on his way to parc fermé, Shouyou found himself face to face with a familiar head of jet-black hair and stopped dead in his tracks. Kageyama Tobio, who now stood much taller than Shouyou remembered him, did the same. He was fully suited up, Ferrari’s little horse rearing proudly on his left pectoral.
“You’re here,” his old rival said incredulously. Shouyou swallowed.
“Duh. I’m on the driver list, you should read it.”
“I did. Are you having tummy issues again?”
“Wh— No! I don’t get that stuff anymore.”
Kageyama sniffed. “Cool.”
“You still write in that stupid notebook of yours?” Shouyou taunted like a child. The Ferrari driver wrinkled his nose.
“It’s not stupid.”
It really wasn’t. Shouyou didn’t know why he felt like starting up a fight with him over this.
He glanced around, shoving his hands in the waistband of his suit. This was getting awkward, wasn’t it? He should probably say something.
“Red suits you.”
Judging by how Kageyama narrowed his eyes at him, it probably hadn’t been the right thing to say.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I don’t know,” Shouyou blurted, growing more uncomfortable by the second. “It means whatever the heck you want it to mean.”
He averted his gaze to try and stop the heat from further spreading on his cheeks. He was definitely embarrassing himself now. Maybe he’d been wrong, maybe they’d both changed too much to pretend that things were like before and that they could talk like they used to—
“Congratulations on getting the McLaren seat.”
Shouyou momentarily forgot his embarrassment to stare at Kageyama. He looked uneasy himself, the way he was nervously toying with one of his suit sleeves and looked anywhere but at Shouyou. He recognized the frown on Kageyama’s face as the one he always wore whenever he was trying hard to communicate.
“Thank you,” Shouyou said cautiously. “Congrats on signing with Ferrari.”
“Thanks.”
“It’s a prestigious team. Don’t fuck it up.”
Kageyama rolled his eyes. “I know that. Idiot.”
“I’m just saying.”
They stood in silence for a few seconds before Kageyama started moving again, awkwardly bowing his head to signal his departure. Shouyou was about to let him, when Oikawa’s words from that night on the parking lot replayed in his mind.
Someone who’s green enough to be turned into a blank slate without too much effort.
“Kageyama.”
He came to a halt, looking over his shoulder.
“I’m going to beat you.”
Kageyama blinked. Shouyou felt like he might pass out, holding his breath with his fists tightly curled at his sides.
“Well yeah, I certainly expect you to try.”
The redhead held his gaze. “Don’t go easy on me.”
Kageyama huffed, the most expressive he’d been since the beginning of their conversation. His eyes were shining at the prospect of a challenge.
“No chance, dumbass.”
He started walking again and disappeared behind a corner, allowing Shouyou to breathe out in relief. Fine. This was… fine.
Some things weren’t like before, and there was no going back to how they used to be. Shouyou thought that he was okay with that. The view of Kageyama’s back may look foreign to him now and he may not be able to read him with the same exactitude as when they were teenagers, but there was no mistaking the way his entire being was set alight whenever Shouyou faced him with another challenge. Another reason to fight.
When Shouyou finally sat in his car and caught Kageyama’s eyes on the TV screen—dark, focused—a wave of determination washed over him. It didn’t feel like a groundbreaking discovery any more than it was a perennial tide full of promises that Shouyou kept careful track of. There was no telling what tomorrow would bring. Only the certainty that he would always find his way back to Kageyama to beat him one more time.
“You ready, Shou-kun?”
Shouyou grinned at Atsumu from across the garage.
“Yeah. Let’s show them what we can do.”