Chapter Text
“We will be reaching Murai Crossing soon.”
Koushi, jolted back to full consciousness, looks up at the sound of the automatic announcement. Tinnitus overtakes him for a moment. Then, reading the pixelated text on the screen hanging from the car ceiling, he confirms the next stop is his.
The kaisoku metro today is quite busy for a change; at this time of day and week, there aren’t typically so many people. Koushi is glad to have secured a seat with how crowded it had become. Yes, the metropolis is always alive and bustling, but at 11:15 at night, you could count on a metro car this far from the city being comfortably empty. There must be some nearby event for the holidays or a line closure, he thinks sleepily.
Today had been another late evening in the office. He’d simply been too wrapped up reading the latest study results that were shaking the psychology community to register the time on the wall clock. But he certainly hadn’t earned his doctorate degree for nothing. It was exciting news and the office was buzzing with enough enthusiasm to keep the scientists and doctors working past their usual times of departure. Koushi is tired now but not regretful. There isn’t much that kindles the fire of passion inside him like the mechanics of the human mind. So curious and mysterious, predictable yet unpredictable at the same time. There are tough cases to crack, needing cracking. A psychologist, then, is a sort of detective—one with many years of schooling and studying. Detectives and doctors alike need sleep, however, and if he doesn’t reach his bed in the next 20 minutes, he thinks he’ll pass out on the way…
“The next station is Murai Crossing; Murai Crossing. The doors on the left side will open.”
Once more, Koushi snaps back to attention. He almost drifted off again. Sleep is the best thing a person can get, he reminds himself. The irony isn’t lost on him—losing sleep over psychological work when every psychologist knows the importance of sleep for human health and function.
As soon as the doors slide open with a ptch shhhk , he stumbles out of the car, only thinking of the softness of his futon. When he reaches the top of the stairs from the station, he looks both ways, crosses the street, and turns left. Five years living at this address and he knows his way around the neighborhood like a map etched in the palm of his hand. His breath forms clouds in the chill as he walks. Street lamps beckon him along the quiet road. They remind him of the hitodama he’d read about as a child. His head seems to gain five pounds. He’s walked this away at least nine hundred times, so supposing he did happen to fall asleep on the way, he’s sure he would unconsciously make his way home anyhow. Koushi wonders if he’s ever sleep-walked before. Surely he’d know, right? Well, not necessarily. The lights slowly morph more and more into hitodama . Maybe he’s already dreaming. Was the road always this curvy? Fallen leaves begin to look like pillows on the ground. Just five more minutes until…
“Sugawara-sensei?”
Koushi searches for the gentle voice with his ever-drooping eyes. Who could that be? “Wha…?” He finds no-one. Is it the hitodama ? Of course not. He must be getting delirious from fatigue. Incredible!
“Ah… behind you.”
Koushi swerves around and almost falls over, only to be caught by sturdy hands. He looks up and tries not to freak out. It’s Sawamura, the neighbor down two townhouses.
“Whoa! Late night at the office?” Sawamura releases him, but not before a subtle moment of hesitation.
Koushi glances down, embarrassed, checking himself and straightening his work clothes. He’s still wearing his identification card. Sugawara Koushi-hakase . It’s humiliating to have one of your (quite handsome) neighbors witness you in an undone state. The truth is he’d been staying late all week, not just tonight, and as a result, has not accumulated enough sleep to properly function. His current condition is simply the consequence of poor decisions. It’s hilarious for a professional to not take their own advice, but Koushi of all people would know how common such a phenomenon is. He stifles a giggle with a sigh.
“Oh, yes, thank you Sawamura-san. Sorry you had to catch me like this! I’m a little embarrassed.”
Sawamura only smiles warmly and replies, “No worries, sensei.”
Sawamura is a veterinarian at the local animal hospital. He and Koushi may not be particularly close, but a doctor referring to another doctor as sensei is an unneeded formality, especially having been friendly neighbors for well more than a couple years now. How often do people even say sensei outside of business? Certainly no-one outside the office addresses him as hakase . Though, he supposes it suits Sawamura’s respectful personality. It’s true that he’s been referring to Koushi as sensei since the beginning, but Koushi hasn’t found it easy to identify the point at which they were friendly enough to drop the formalities. (He suspects it’s been long since; it’s likely a force of habit at this point.) Truth be told, he himself continues to refer to Sawamura with san because it feels even more awkward to be honored by someone and not honor (at least in some mild way) them back. So in this not-fully conscious state, he decides there’s no better moment than the present. He’s never referred to Sawamura as sensei himself, anyway.
“You don’t have to call me ‘sensei,’ you know. I’m not the only one with a PhD.”
Sawamura laughs softly. “Got me there. But you give off a very… honorable… impression. Or I guess I just got used to it…” Silence, and then, “I had a late night too.”
They begin to walk down their street.
“Are animals more likely to get injured on Fridays?” Koushi jokes.
“Feels like it! It’s almost the weekend for God’s sake. I just finished an open-heart before I left,” Sawamura says lightly, as if high-stake surgeries are simply another fact of life, and suddenly a feeling creeps into the back of Koushi’s tired neck, and he wants to hear a joke in return for his own. Alas, his head is as sore as his neck, so he ignores it. “But Sugawara-sen— eh, Sugawara-san, since you're here, I can just ask you now. Azumane and I are having a joint birthday party on Sunday for lunch. I’m inviting Shimizu and a few friends if you’d like to join. Nishinoya will be there too, of course.”
Ah! Koushi had forgotten how his neighbors’ birthdays come in successive days; across the New Year, no less. That’s right… The next week is off at the office for celebrations. Thank goodness, he thinks, I can really sleep now. But if Sunday is the birthday party, he’ll have to sacrifice a day of rest. It doesn’t take too much energy to attend your neighbors’ birthday party, right? He supposes it should be fine.
“That works for me! Thank you for inviting me,” Koushi says. “I’ll have to get you a gift, then. Any preferences?”
His neighbor’s eyes widen. “No, no! Showing up is enough,” he assures, waving his hands. “Please don’t worry.”
“Well, your loss!” Koushi shrugs. Of course, he’ll still buy the poor man a gift. Koushi knows Sawamura is simply being polite by not requesting gifts, but Koushi certainly isn’t apathetic. He’ll go out to the store some time tomorrow.
It’s quiet again, and every now and then, Koushi feels a prickle on the side of his cheek. A cold draft swims down through the street, reminding them what time of year is coming around the corner. Koushi shivers in his light jacket. He spares a glance at his neighbor and notices his flushed face. He moves his gaze back onto the asphalt stretched out in front of them.
“Oh!” Koushi says, suddenly remembering. “Isn’t Kiyoko’s birthday less than a week after yours? She didn’t want to celebrate along with you guys?”
Sawamura shakes his head. “You know how she is. She’ll probably try to go to work on her birthday.”
“What if we surprised her? Just us neighbors?”
A smile creeps onto the man’s face. “I actually like that idea.”
By now there’s half an hour until midnight, and the doctors give their good-nights before parting ways to their respective townhouses. Koushi tries not to think too much about Sawamura’s strange diction and mannerisms and instead elects to empty his head.
The road is straight, and his vision is clear.
Koushi can’t recall what had happened after he’d reached his front door last night; nonetheless, he’d made it into his pajamas and onto his futon. He didn’t wake up once during the night—the best sleep he’d gotten in weeks. It was half-past ten when he finally stirred, but only when the two digit ‘1’s appeared on his clock thirty minutes later was he finally convinced to stop staring at the ceiling and totter out of bed. Now he contemplates the near-empty depths of his modest fridge in search of something to satiate his loudly barking stomach.
An egg carton in one of the door shelves beckons him forth, and he pries it open. Three eggs left. Just enough for tamagoyaki. After taking the carton out, he checks the sugar container on the counter and notes that the bottom is beginning to become visible. Obviously a trip to the grocery store is in dire need.
The store! he remembers. He’d planned to go there to buy gifts for Sawamura and Azumane. That settles his itinerary for after brunch.
For now, Koushi whips up his simple meal in a dozen or so minutes, adding slices of the last persimmon from the fruit bowl to his plate. The nostalgic taste sends him back to his middle school days when his parents would prepare him breakfast each day. The tamagoyaki recipe is his father’s, and he owes his appreciation for persimmons to his mother. He should call them some time during the New Year break.
Soon he’s cleaned the dishes, freshened up, and is out the door with a stock of reusable bags. The small local grocery is conveniently just two blocks down and to the right from his residential area. It’s easy enough to live without a car in these parts. Koushi’s athletic high school days are far over, but he still gets his daily steps in with ease. He’s at the store within ten minutes.
“Welcome!” the store manager, Ukai, calls from a desk near the check-out lanes.
Eggs, sugar, what else… Koushi makes his way through the aisles, picking up items to fill his pantry as he goes. At last, he reaches the cards and packaging section. Two simple bags and cards will do. The contents of these bags, on the other hand, are a different matter. What to gift a librarian and a veterinarian? Nothing too cliché, but nothing too generic, either. Now he wishes he knew his neighbors better.
He thinks back to the last conversations he’d held with Sawamura and Azumane and suddenly remembers the latter griping about wanting a garden but never finding the motivation to start one. A simple opportunity, such as a packet of seeds, can act as an impetus for great action, Koushi remarks. He rushes over to the small outdoors section. Finding the seed packets, he selects a few herbs and vegetables then decides to add a variety of flowers to the mix. He looks at the pricing and realizes how inexpensive it all is, so he picks a hand shovel from the rack. Gardening would be a great opportunity for Azumane and Nishinoya to spend time together. Perfect. Onto the next gift.
Only this is much more difficult. Nothing seems to fit what Koushi would imagine to be a meaningful gift for Sawamura as he scans over shelves with his eyes. It has to be just right. Something to make him stand out. But why stand out?
He must look completely lost in thought as a questioning voice compels him to turn. Ukai stands at the end of the aisle with his hands on his hips.
“Say, Sugawara-san, you’ve been standing in that same spot for a few minutes now. Need any help?”
Koushi takes in his surroundings. He’s standing in the sports aisle, right in front of the volleyball equipment. As if in a time portal, he’s transported back to high school when his number one commitment had been the boys’ volleyball club. That figure 2 on his shirt had meant the world. His fingers suddenly itch to set another ball. This isn’t the time to reminisce, Koushi chides himself.
“I’m looking for a good birthday present to give a friend, but I’m not entirely sure what to get,” he admits.
Ukai smiles knowingly. “The classic dilemma. Well, let’s see. Who’s your friend?”
“My neighbor, Sawamura Daichi,” Koushi says. “Do you know him?”
“Sawamura-kun!” Ukai’s face is one of pleasant surprise. “I’ve known that kid since he was in high school. Actually,” he says, gesturing to the sports gear in front of them, “he was captain of the boys’ volleyball team at the school I coached at.”
High school volleyball! How has Koushi never discovered their shared experience in the more than two years they’ve known each other? “Ukai-san, does Sawamura-san really play volley?”
“Oh sure, he used to. I don’t know about now. He’s still pretty buff though; I’m sure he’d join the community club if he had time. He comes in once in a while to catch up and always talks about how busy he is with vet stuff or whatever. That nerd.”
Koushi stares thoughtfully at an orange and black ball on the rack. He will absolutely bring this up to his neighbor the next chance he has; he hasn’t been able to talk about volleyball with many people since his teenage years. The chance has been under his nose this entire time; Ukai too!
“I didn’t know you were a volleyball coach,” Koushi says. “I used to play volley in high school, too. Maybe I’ll swing by the club some time.”
Ukai charges up with energy. “Seriously? You mean it? Oh man, wait until the others hear about this!” He pauses and looks at the volleyballs in front of them, suddenly pointing very earnestly at them. “Sugawara-san, get Sawamura-kun a ball. I bet that kid still has a beat-up one from ten years ago and never got a new one.”
Yes! Yes! It’s exactly the kind of meaningful gift that someone would appreciate. Koushi thanks unknown spirits for sending Ukai his way today and promptly takes the orange and black ball he eyed moments before into his hands.
“I can’t thank you enough. You’re a life-saver!”
The manager gives a hearty laugh and waves his hand in dismissal. “Repay me by actually joining the guys at the volleyball club. We need some new bones!”
Koushi genuinely considers it.
“Oh, I’ll give you a discount on the ball.”
Breakfast is not a struggle this morning since Koushi had just gotten his groceries the day before. Part of him is still tired from the week’s business, but the other part is excited for the party. He can’t exactly place why so much, but he figures it’s the matter of volleyball (he still can’t believe it!).
By the time the clock nears noon, he’s ready. When he steps outside, the air is cool and crisper than before. A gust flies through the neighborhood as if gasping for a final breath before the last of the browned leaves fall to the ground. Winter.
Closing and locking the gate is second nature, and the path to the townhouse two doors over is only several dozen steps. Koushi rings the bell by the gate and waits.
The front door slams open.
“Suga!” It’s Nishinoya, Azumane’s boyfriend. Out of his neighbors, Koushi probably talks to Nishinoya the most.
“Hey, Noya! I hope I’m not too late.”
“Nope. Still waiting on two more.” Nishinoya comes down the steps and lets Koushi through the gate. He points at the bags in Koushi’s hands. “Those gifts?”
“Yup! Hopefully they like them.”
“Asahi is a total coward. He won’t say anything. And you know Sawamura’s too nice to let on if he didn't."
They share a knowing look and chuckle.
“Can I see the gifts, though?” Nishinoya swipes for the bags, but Koushi quickly lifts it out of reach.
“Nope. It’s a surprise.”
Nishinoya sulks. Patience isn’t his strongest suit. They make their way into the townhouse.
Inside, they find a group of four gathered around a low table in the living room: Sawamura, Azumane, Kiyoko, and a yellowish-blonde woman Koushi doesn’t recognize. The sofa has been pushed to the wall for the occasion, up against the thin stairs leading up to the second floor. Hardwood paneling breaks up the plain white walls. It’s small, but comfortable and warm. Kiyoko notices him first and gives him a nod and a smile. He returns it. Clattering seeps into the room from the kitchen.
“Sugawara-san! You’re here,” Sawamura, in a black dress shirt with the sleeves rolled-up, says, standing.
“I am.” Koushi gives a slight bow.
Then Sawamura sees the bags. “You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“But—”
“You wouldn’t stop me from getting a present for Azumane, though, would you?”
Sawamura has to pause at this. Ah. Cornered.
“Sugawara, you didn’t have to,” Azumane says, standing from his seat on a pillow. He looks somewhat embarrassed about Koushi’s simple act of politeness. What is there to be embarrassed about?
Sawamura takes advantage of Azumane’s words of protest. “Even he agrees!”
These guys. “Too bad, too late,” Koushi says, as if there’s nothing he could’ve done about it. He sets the bags down on an end table where a few other bags and boxes lie. “I’m sure my kindness will make you suffer.”
To that, Sawamura opens his mouth to say something, but gives up. “Thank you for the presents.” Azumane nods in agreement.
“Of course.”
“Oh! I didn’t introduce you to Yachi-kun,” Sawamura says, motioning to the blonde woman, “one of my vet techs.”
Yachi stands and bows and Koushi returns the gesture.
“I’m Sugawara. Nice to meet you.”
“Mice to meet you!” Yachi’s mouth morphs from a smile to a tight line. “I mean nice.” Nervous energy practically drips like sweat off of her. Koushi feels bad.
“No worries—”
“ Appetizers! ”
A freckled man rushes in from the kitchen holding a tray loaded with yaki onigiri and gyoza. “Is Michimiya here yet? I won’t get done with lunch in time if she doesn’t get her ass over in the next five minutes.” He notices Koushi. “Oh! Hi there! You must be Sugawara-san. I’m Ikejiri!”
Koushi exchanges formalities with Ikejiri as the man sets the appetizer tray down on the coffee table. Sawamura seems to have so many friends. Koushi is slightly envious that he isn’t as social. Shouldn’t a psychologist be good at making friends? Whatever…
By the time the doorbell rings again, Ikejiri is back in the kitchen (after having provided drinks), several minutes have passed, Koushi has taken a seat next to Yachi, and the group of five are deep in conversation about whether cats or dogs are better. (Azumane, Kiyoko, and Sawamura choose cats—Koushi is a little surprised Sawamura would choose cats; not what he imagined—while Nishinoya and Koushi choose dogs. Yachi anxiously flips between sides.) Once again, Nishinoya jumps up and jogs out the door. When he’s back, there’s a short-haired woman and a scary-looking man with a buzzcut behind him.
“Yo, yo!” Buzz greets Sawamura with a fist bump and a pat on the back.
“Ryu, we’re not the only guests,” the woman scolds and slaps Buzz’s shoulder. “Be respectful.”
“Oh, yeah. My bad! I’m Tanaka,” he says, turning toward the group.
Koushi stands. “I’m Sugawara.”
Yachi, who appears slightly afraid, follows suit. “I’m Yachi—”
“Michimiya, is that you— oh, hey, Tanaka-san.” Ikejiri’s head peeks out of the kitchen. “Michimiya, you’re late. Get in here!” He disappears behind the door frame.
Michimiya looks mildly annoyed as she mutters something about it being ‘Ryuunosuke’s fault.’ “Nice to meet you two, I have to go to the kitchen now!” she says, quickly bowing and rushing to join Ikejiri.
“Did you invite anyone, Azumane?” Koushi asks as he sits down, noting that all the guests seem to be connected to the other neighbor.
“Ah, no,” Azumane scratches his head. “I’m not as outgoing as Sawamura.”
“Outgoing? Nooo. They’re all old friends. Except for Yachi-kun. She’s the best vet tech at the hospital.” Sawamura shoots a thumbs-up at an ever-more-nervous Yachi. “Oh, but don’t tell Hinata-kun or Kageyama-kun I said that.”
“Uh! Right!” Yachi looks like she could die any second.
“If anyone was wondering, I'm a college friend. So is Yui,” Tanaka says, motioning in Michimiya’s general direction. “We teach at the same school.”
Kiyoko scoffs. “No-one was wondering that.”
Tanaka feigns sadness. “Mean as ever.”
Kiyoko, unbothered, sips on a glass of soda as Tanaka continues to lament. Everyone is already very familiar with each other. Koushi feels like a gray brick in a wall of red.
Yachi leans over to him. “Wow, Kiyoko-san is seriously cool!” she whispers. “I’m a bit envious of her confidence.”
That’s right: Yachi is in the same boat as him.
A chuckle escapes Koushi, and he whispers back, “Yeah, but don’t let her fool you. She’s actually a big softie.”
It’s true. Kiyoko is ostensibly quite stoic, and, to no-one’s surprise, her work is with the government, collecting and analyzing statistical information. But once you breach her inner circle, you know she’s not really as nonchalant as she lets on. Nishinoya and Kiyoko are close friends, Koushi knows, and Nishinoya, who only blabbers, would find it difficult to talk to a person so often if they couldn’t match at least half his energy. Maybe she’ll drop a bit of the act in this more casual environment, Koushi ponders.
By now, most jackets and sweaters have made their way to either the unused sofa or the lower shelf of the end table. Tanaka pulls a pillow up beside Nishinoya. Conversations ebb, flow, diverge, and converge again over Ikejiri’s appetizers. Azumane complains (politely) about he and Nishinoya’s boring yard again while Yachi fumbles her food as she struggles to answer a curious Tanaka’s questions. Sawamura enters a heated debate with Nishinoya over table manners or something equally not-interesting, and Azumane has to jump in and play mediator.
“You look tired, Sugawara.”
Koushi looks up from his freshly poured glass of lemonade at Kiyoko, and he’s surprised she’s the one who struck up conversation.
“Oh. Do I?” He feigns an energized grin.
Kiyoko returns his smile with an expression that says, Really?
“Okay, caught me.”
She finally smiles back, coyly. “What’s the matter?”
“Stayed late at the office all week. That’s all.”
“Is that so?”
Koushi stares at the ice in his drink. “There’s so much happening in this world, you know? I’m trying not to fall behind.” He looks back up at his friend with half of a sparkle in his eye. “Can’t let myself down.”
“Hm.” Kiyoko takes a sip of her own glass. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
“Thanks, Kiyoko. I mean it.”
Somehow, she always ends up being a therapist for whomever she speaks to. Why is she checking up on him when it’s his entire job to understand people and their feelings? Maybe he is falling behind.
The expression on Kiyoko’s face gives Koushi the idea that this conversation will be rekindled in the near future. He gulps, averting his eyes and praying she changes the subject.
“You know,” Kiyoko says, eyeing their host who sits to her right, “Daichi was really counting on you to be here.”
Koushi slowly lifts his eyes to Kiyoko’s face. “Sorry?”
She matches his gaze with hers, unfaltering. “Daichi is very glad you’re here.”
“Oh.” He downs the rest of the lemonade and swallows hard, cringing at the slight sourness. “I’m glad too, then.” This isn’t what he meant when he hoped for a change of subject.
“He’s been saying that he feels like you’re a little left out from the rest of us. He wants to include you more.”
Hah. That man couldn’t be anything other than considerate, could he? “I guess it feels like that sometimes. That’s nice of him to think of me.”
Coolly, Kiyoko takes another sip of her drink before saying, “But there’s more to Daichi than meets the eye, no?”
At the mention of his name, the third no less, Sawamura himself turns around. “What?”
Kiyoko…! Koushi grits his teeth. What the hell is she saying? Why is she being so cryptic and weird? She has to be hinting at something, but what?
“Just telling Sugawara that you suggested a group outing some time,” Kiyoko smoothly lies.
How does she do it, Koushi thinks enviously.
“Oh! Right, yeah. I, uh,” Sawamura says, clearly caught off guard, “I thought it would be fun, right?”
“Of course. Why not?” Koushi scrutinizes Sawamura in an attempt to decipher his nervousness. He dismisses the strange feeling in the back of neck from the time two nights before that crawls back.
“ Lunch! ” a sing-songy voice announces from the kitchen. It’s Michimiya as she bursts through the frame with a hot pot and firmly places it on the dining table between the living room and kitchen.
“Are we having… shabu shabu?” Azumane says, practically ogling the bowl of raw meats Ikejiri carries out.
“Yup!” Ikejiri confirms.
“Okay,” Michimiya says, clapping. “Here’s how we’re going to work around fitting us all: We can have four people at either the dining table or low table and five people at the other. Daichi, you sit at one, Azumane-san, you at the other.”
Everyone signals agreement in some form or another. The tables are close enough that someone sitting at one table could easily have a conversation with someone at the other.
“Sorry my home is meant for one person,” Sawamura sarcastically apologizes.
“You could easily fit two people here.” Everyone turns to look at the voice, and it’s Kiyoko of all people.
Tanaka gapes. “I can’t believe you actually said something out loud to the whole group.” That earns him a hard stare.
“I…” Sawamura starts, looking distracted. “I guess that’s true.”
“Yeah okay, chop chop! Let’s get to eating!” Michimiya says. She exits into the kitchen again with Ikejiri to bring out the second hotpot and more food, sauces, and dishes.
Sawamura takes a seat at the dining table while Azumane stays at the low table. The cozy townhouse is filled with bustle as guests pass dishes and arrange themselves around the room. Nishinoya (obviously), Kiyoko, and Tanaka sit with Azumane. Michimiya, Ikejiri, Yachi, and Koushi sit at the dining table.
“Good thing I can’t argue with Nishinoya about table manners over here,” Sawamura jokes at their seating arrangement.
“I heard that,” Nishinoya promptly retorts from the low table. “And you’re still wrong!”
Sawamura glares at him. Koushi feels sorry that Nishinoya is on the receiving end of one of Sawamura’s menacing looks, but before they can continue their senseless debate, Ikejiri grabs his bowl and chopsticks and commences the meal. The rest follow suit.
The warmth of the food and the house and, perhaps, above all, the people, are almost enough to make Koushi forget about the arrival of winter. Where they are, snow is sure to fall within the next month. But right now, Koushi mostly thinks about how nice it is to be in the company of other people outside of work. It’s been a while.
“Yachi-san, you remind me a lot of myself when I was younger,” Michimiya remarks as she stuffs her face with a scoop of noodles, and she chuckles.
Yachi burns pink, and the combination of that with her hair color reminds Koushi of Princess Peach. “Oh! I do do? I mean, I do?” Koushi can’t believe she manages to turn even more pink.
Michimiya bursts into laughter again, and it’s one of fondness, not one with the intent to humiliate, Koushi understands. “Yeah, I can tell you’re bent on not being judged or offensive. Timid and all,” Michimiya says pointedly, motioning at Yachi with her chopsticks. “Loosen up, have some fun. We don’t bite, right Daichi?” She laughs once more, and Sawamura rolls his eyes and nods.
Yachi also nods, a little less embarrassed than before and carrying herself more confidently. Koushi is sort of proud of her, even if it’s no big deal.
“How old did you say you were?” Michimiya asks her.
“Twenty-six,” she responds.
“Ahah. I knew you were younger. Daichi is your senpai then?” Michimiya says and manages to laugh yet again.
Is she drunk? Koushi wonders. That isn’t possible; no alcohol had been served.
“Michimiya.” Ikejiri jabs Michimiya’s side.
“She doesn’t even call me that,” Sawamura explains, “and I work with her.”
Frantically, Yachi waves her hands in apology. “You told me not to!”
“Because you kept saying it like I would cut you open with a surgical knife if you didn’t.”
Everyone laughs, including Yachi herself.
“You know, Yachi-san,” Koushi says, nudging her with his elbow, “Sawamura-san still called me sensei up until Friday. I’ve known him for over two years.”
“Whaaaa,” Michimiya says, eyeing a now embarrassed-looking Sawamura. “So you can’t even talk!”
Koushi keeps going. “I’m amazed he hasn’t been calling me hakase all this time.”
“ You have a PhD? ” Yachi’s jaw is dropped.
“ That’s what you’re surprised about?” Koushi replies.
“Does everyone here except me hold a doctorate?” Yachi mutters.
Michimiya stares at her. “Did you just tell a joke?” And then she laughs harder than she has all day, and everyone joins in.
“Don’t air me out like that, Sugawara-san,” Sawamura says sheepishly before grabbing a piece of tofu from the pot and eating it.
Had it been too far to reveal that? Probably not; Sawamura’s manner isn’t one of genuine discomfort. Still, Koushi decides to relax what he says about others. He can’t risk messing up. He’ll just play along with the joke for now.
“Happy birthday. That was my present to you.”
Nishinoya whips around from what seemed to be an intense conversation at the low table. “That reminds me, presents are after—” He makes eye contact with Kiyoko. “After lunch!”
When they return to their conversations, Koushi can tell Yachi is starting to warm up to Michimiya’s loud character.
“Yachi-chan—no, Yacchan—can I call you that? We’re basically friends now. Yacchan! You should tag along next time I hang out with Daichi.”
“Really? I don’t want to intrude!”
“No, no, I insist!”
The rest of the meal passes by like honey down the throat; sweet, smooth, and comforting. It hits Koushi that he’s been isolating himself for a while now. Not just recently due to work; for years. It’s not like he can’t live on his own—he can, and he has been— it’s that he’s missed the better part of a social life, one filled with friends a call away or parties a block down the street. Sure, he considers his neighbors his friends, but they’re not close. He hasn’t even called his parents in months.
So this moment is the closest thing Koushi has had to family and friends for a long time. It’s healing, but it’s also a little sad. What has been keeping him from socializing more often all this time?
It’s a question he’ll answer eventually; this moment right now is for enjoying the company of this party.
When they finish and clean up, Kiyoko stands to address the room. She’s full of surprises today. “My gift for Daichi and Azumane is first.” She speeds into the kitchen with Nishinoya at her heels.
Tanaka and Michimiya lock eyes and jump up to hit the light switches on their respective sides of the room. Whispers fill the dimly sunlit space, and Azumane mutters something like, “What are they up to now?”
A moment passes, then Kiyoko and Nishinoya emerge from the kitchen, each with a cake adorned with candles reading ‘28’ in their hands. “Surprise!” They say in unison. Then they begin singing ‘Happy Birthday,’ and soon the other guests join them. Sawamura buries his head in his arm.
Kiyoko approaches the dining table with an angel food cake covered in whipped cream and kiwis. Nishinoya places a soufflé-style cheesecake complete with powdered sugar in front of Azumane.
Once the song is over, Nishinoya says, “Make a wish!”
In a fleeting moment, Sawamura makes eye contact with Koushi. It’s a curious look, one that’s unsure yet determined at the same time. It happens so fast, though, that Koushi’s not sure it actually occurs. The candles are blown out, and everyone claps.
The remainder of the gift-opening reminds Koushi of Christmas, just days before. He’d worked. On Christmas. And when he’d gotten home, late at night, he’d had no-one to open gifts or watch cliché movies with over a warm holiday meal.
He’d written some holiday cards for family. And no, he hadn’t called his parents; they’d left for a vacation far from the reaches of cellular towers a week before, and they’re making it home tomorrow. Besides the cards, the most he’d done was send a text to the only person he could firmly call a friend.
The sound of paper brings Koushi back to Earth. As Sawamura scrunches the wrapping of the present he’s just opened into a deformed ball, everyone gathered around him and Azumane in the living room, he looks at Kiyoko. “How did you manage to sneak two entire cakes into my house again?”
A small, secretive smile appears on Kiyoko’s lips. “A woman has her secrets.”
Koushi glances at remaining gifts of the afternoon and is surprised to find his are the last ones. He can’t help but feel excited thinking about the reactions to come. He knows they’ll like them, but still…
Sawamura lifts one of the bags by the handles and reads the side of it. “Azumane, this one’s yours.”
Azumane takes the bag and removes the tissue paper from the top. He peers inside and gasps. “Gardening supplies!”
Nishinoya lifts a brow. “Are you serious? Let me see!”
“Seeds for gardening. You know, like I’ve been talking about? And a hand shovel!” Azumane tries not to smile and fails. Grabbing the card, he reads it as his boyfriend snags the bag and digs around, inspecting all the seed packets.
“No way, sunflowers are my favorite!”
Azumane looks up from the card at Koushi. “Thank you so much, Sugawara. My complaining must have been so annoying for you to go out and get this. Sorry about that.”
“I haven’t had cherry tomatoes in so long,” Nishinoya mutters.
Koushi shakes his head. “Of course not. You’re always welcome. You’ll have to let me have some of those cucumbers when they’re fully grown.”
“Definitely,” Azumane responds, clearly anticipating the gardening that will fill much of he and Nishinoya’s life from now on. Nishinoya approvingly smacks Koushi on the back.
Koushi turns his gaze over to Sawamura. He’s not-so-discreetly eyeing his own gift bag. It reminds Koushi of a child looking at a candy bar in passing at the grocery store.
“Last gift!” Nishinoya says, looking at the last bag expectantly.
Sawamura carefully starts pulling the tissue paper from the bag. It’s so slow Koushi wants to tell him to just open the damn thing. Finally, he whisks the tissue away and stares at what was beneath it. His facial expression stays steady.
Oh god, Koushi thinks. Kill me now. He’s not even reacting.
Then, Sawamura reaches in with both hands and lifts the dual-colored sphere for all to see. Suddenly, his face scrunches up, and all he can say is:
“Oh my god.”
“Is that a volleyball?” It’s Azumane. “I used to play in high school.”
For God’s sake, Azumane too? Has every volleyball player in this city eluded him?
But what does it matter if Sawamura doesn’t like the volleyball? This is why Koushi doesn’t have many friends. Because he’s good at disappointing. He’ll overanalyze you, scrutinize you, and do as much as he can to please you only to fail. He’s a psychologist, not a therapist. Watching from behind the scenes while everyone else gets to play in the sandbox is his specialty. Who else does he need except for the close few he has already? Really, what is he even doing here—
“Sugawara-san.”
Koushi is snapped away from his inward spiral.
“How’d you know?” Sawamura asks, looking at him so gingerly Koushi’s heart breaks a little.
“How’d I know what?”
“I played volleyball.”
Oh.
Ikejiri jabs his thumb at Sawamura. “We were on the same team in high school. He was captain.”
“I… Ukai-san from the grocery store told me. Not that I was asking or anything,” Koushi quickly says. “He just asked what I was looking for, and I told him I was getting gifts for you guys…”
“Coach, huh.” Sawamura looks back at the volleyball with the same look he had given Koushi. “It’s been so long. Thank you, Sugawara-san. It means a lot.”
The back of Koushi’s neck boils over, the sensation overtaking his thoughts. It’s likely why he ends up blurting out what he’s been meaning to say the entire day.
“I also played volleyball in high school.”
“No way. Have we all played in high school?” Azumane asks as he looks between Sawamura, Ikejiri, and Koushi.
“We have to play sometime,” Sawamura says, and he looks sincere.
Koushi thinks about Ukai’s offer. “Actually, Ukai-san did say the local volleyball club was looking for more members.”
Sawamura laughs. “Maybe it’s time I listen to him for once.”
“I still can’t believe all of you played volleyball in high school,” Nishinoya says, shaking his head. “It’s so cool!”
“Is now a bad time to say I coach high school volleyball?” Michimiya says.
Tanaka bursts into laughter and smacks her back. “That’s right, that’s right.”
Finally, Koushi relaxes. It’s alright. He did well. He did well. Everyone is happy right now, and he isn’t a disappointment. His neighbors—no, his friends liked his gifts. How could he ever forget what friendship was? What it meant to be with people you enjoyed being with? It’s a small moment like this, one with little real significance, that tends to wake one up, that tips the scale just enough to the right side. Like a packet of seeds. The build up of event after event, years in the making; it all comes down to a single, tiny thing you wouldn’t otherwise bat your eye at. The wonders of the psyche.
He smiles—Koushi smiles. “Small world, huh?”
They played a series of games until one by one the guests had to make their way home for the afternoon. Ikejiri, who had arrived on a surprise visit for a few days, went back to his bed and breakfast nearby. Now only Azumane, Nishinoya, Kiyoko, Koushi, and of course, Sawamura are left at the vet’s townhouse. They’re in the middle of a game of Clue.
“Was it Dietman Green in the kitchen with the… uh… iron?”
“Yuu-chan, you’re always choosing my character,” Azumane says, frowning.
Nishinoya grins back at him. “It’s so I can move you next to mine.” He points to the red Miss Scarlet piece in the kitchen section of the board and blows a cheesy kiss.
It’s love-sickening, and Koushi has to look away. “Could you two wait until you got home for this?”
“Oh, sorry,” Azumane apologizes sincerely, not catching Koushi’s sarcasm, “I didn’t realize…”
“I’m kidding. You’re fine,” Koushi says. Oops.
Nishinoya slaps Azumane’s arm in jest. Azumane shows Nishinoya a card at which he nods.
Kiyoko marks something on her sheet with a pencil. “Daichi, your turn.”
Sawamura rolls the dice and moves the Chief Mustard piece into the bedroom. “Was it… Professor Plum—,” Sawamura takes Koushi’s purple piece and places it next to his own, “—in the bedroom with the trunk?”
Koushi swallows. “Oh, so you think it was me?”
Sawamura wiggles his eyebrows at him then looks over at Kiyoko for a response. Kiyoko shows him a card. Looking down at his paper, Koushi deduces that the only thing Kiyoko could’ve just shown Sawamura is none other than Professor Plum, his own character. Innocent. Of course, what character you play doesn’t realistically matter. No-one knows who the murderer is until the end, but it is admittedly more fun to blame the big crime on the actual player.
Sawamura jots something down on his own paper and glances back up at Koushi before addressing the room. “About that group outing. How’s New Year’s Day?”
They all take a moment and then nod. Koushi has nothing better to do, and getting out would do him a great service.
“We could go to the shrine in the morning and grab a warm lunch right after,” Kiyoko suggests. “Azumane, you like tonkotsu ramen, right? I know a place.”
“Hell yes,” Nishinoya says before Azumane can respond.
“That sounds great, if it’s no trouble,” Azumane says, scratching his head.
Sawamura turns to Koushi. “Sugawara-san?”
Koushi wants to say exactly what Nishinoya said: Hell yes. Instead, he opts for: “I should be thanking you for inviting me.”
Sawamura’s eyes soften. “Of course not.”
Azumane speaks up. “It’s my turn to say ‘you’re always welcome.’”
Hitodama glow inside of Koushi.
As they clean up their game of Clue—which Kiyoko, as Mrs. White, had absolutely cleared them at—Sawamura lifts the purple piece up. “Sugawara?”
“Yeah?”
“Did you choose Professor Plum because he’s a psychologist in the movie?”
Slowly, Koushi grins. “He’s actually a psychiatrist in that movie.” He chooses not to say anything more. Sawamura raises a brow, but Koushi only winks and goes back to putting cards back into plastic baggies. Out of the corner of his eye, Koushi sees Sawamura’s jaw clench before also giving into a smile.
They call it a day and return home, eager to escape the cold befalling their city.