Chapter Text
PREPARING FOR BED, Akaashi Keiji moved to close his balcony door, but paused when he noticed the adjacent balcony was occupied. His next-door neighbor sat curled up in a plush lounge chair, wrapped in a fluffy blanket. A book was open in her hands, her eyes tracing the lines intently, completely absorbed. She didn’t notice him. But then again, when did she ever? Still, he found himself lingering, his gaze softening as he watched her. Her hair spilled around her face in loose waves, catching the moonlight in a way that made the whole moment feel oddly cinematic.
"Hanako, go to bed! The first day of school is tomorrow!" came the familiar voice of Mrs. Sakuraba, calling from inside.
The brunette let out a soft sigh and slowly rose, gathering her blanket and book in a practiced motion. She turned without so much as a glance in his direction and slipped quietly back into her room, sliding the door shut behind her.
Akaashi stood there for a moment longer, the silence pressing gently against him, before finally closing his door.
. . . . . .
Akaashi Keiji had a few things he wanted to accomplish in his first year of high school. He planned to join a club, make friends, and excel in school. And maybe finally speak to his next-door neighbor. Easy enough. Simple. Achievable. Or so he told himself.
The Fukurōdani first-year hallway was filled with nervous 14 and 15-year-olds searching for their classrooms or friends they promised to meet up with. Akaashi had some friends from his middle school whom he had hoped to see, but for now, his main focus was finding his classroom and getting out of this overly crowded hallway. Finding 1-B, the raven-haired boy quickly slipped in, avoiding the chaos happening behind him. Akaashi let out a quiet breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Routine took over: shoes off, cubby claimed, indoor shoes on. He approached the posted seating chart, eyes scanning the names until he found his own. Four rows down, by the window. Not bad. At least he’d have a view. But then, just above his name, he saw hers.
Sakuraba Hanako
Akaashi blinked, stared at the name again to be sure he wasn’t imagining it. No mistake. He looked up toward his assigned seat and, sure enough, there she was. Head tilted down, focused on a book, completely unaware of the storm of panic and disbelief happening just a few feet behind her. She's in my class?
Nine years. They had lived next to each other for nine years. And yet, he could count the number of meaningful conversations they’d had on one hand—possibly even one finger. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to talk to her. He just... couldn’t. He always fumbled his words around her, said something awkward or tried too hard. Every time he thought about starting a conversation, his brain short-circuited. So instead, he did nothing.
“Sorry, can I see the seating chart?” a voice asked behind him, pulling him from his thoughts.
“Oh, yes, sorry,” he mumbled, stepping aside.
He made his way to his seat, doing his best to maintain his usual neutral expression as he passed Sakuraba. She didn’t look up. Not even a flicker of recognition. Not that he was expecting one, but still, it stung a little.
He sat down and tried to focus on getting his supplies organized, but his mind kept circling back to the same question: Should he say something to her? What would he even say? Hi, I’m your neighbor? Nice weather today? No. It all sounded ridiculous. Forced. He was overthinking it, as usual. So lost in his spiraling thoughts, he barely noticed the classroom had filled up around him.
"Good morning, class!" The teacher greeted, walking in, snapping Akaashi out of his thoughts. "I'll do an introduction, and what the school expects from the students, and what you can expect for the school year. Then we can start some of our lessons."
As the teacher spoke, Akaashi did his best to listen, but his focus drifted again—only returning when she announced they’d be starting a lesson. He reached into his bag for his notebook and pencil case, only to notice movement from the seat in front of him. Sakuraba was rummaging through her bag, frowning ever so slightly. Her notebook and eraser were on her desk, but no pencil in sight. She’s looking for one, he realized. He reached into his own bag and pulled out a spare pencil, pausing. What if he was wrong and she wasn’t looking for one? What if she thought it was weird that he offered? Would she even remember who he was? His fingers hovered uncertainly. The teacher had already begun the lecture, and Sakuraba had set her bag down in quiet resignation.
Now or never.
Akaashi took a quiet breath and tapped her shoulder gently. She turned,and for the first time in recent memory,their eyes met. Her gaze dropped to the pencil in his hand, then returned to his face. A flicker of recognition lit her expression, followed by a soft smile.
“Thank you,” she whispered, accepting the pencil and turning back around.
Akaashi sat back in his seat, heart pounding, but in a good way. His hand moved almost automatically, copying notes onto his paper. But all he could really focus on was the smile still tugging at the corners of his mouth.
Maybe this year really would be different.
. . . . . .
Akaashi was slightly disappointed he didn’t get to talk to the brunette more. And by “slightly,” he meant he had mentally rehearsed five different conversations where she laughed at his jokes and maybe even gave him his pencil back. Instead, she’d left. With the pencil. No words. Just gone. Not that he could blame her. The club fair was basically a stampede, first-years darting around like their high school careers depended on it. And technically, they did. Fukurōdani required every first-year to join a club. Akaashi didn’t mind. He already had his sights set on the volleyball club. He’d played in middle school, and hey, someone needed to keep their hands from getting soft.
When he stepped into the gym, he was surprised to see her again. She was speaking with the coach and two upperclassman girls, who he assumed were the club’s managers. Was she thinking about becoming the manager?
"Hey! Hey! Hey!" A boy with wild, owl-like hair suddenly jumped in front of him, blocking his view. "Are you a first-year student?"
“Erm… yes, I am,” Akaashi replied, a little startled.
“Awesome! Come play!” Before Akaashi could say anything more, he was already being dragged onto the court.
“That’s Bokuto-san,” said Shirofuku Yukie, one of the second-year managers, turning to the girl beside her. “He’s a second-year and the team’s vice-captain.”
Sakuraba smiled, clearly amused. Her usually composed and quiet next-door neighbor looked completely overwhelmed by the high-energy upperclassman.
"You're a setter? Great, toss to me!" the boy demanded to her neighbor. Akaashi sighed, clearly trying to adjust to the sudden whirlwind he’d been caught up in.
"Do you know him?" the other manager and second-year, Suzumeda Kaori, asked noticing the smile on the girl's face.
“Not really,” Sakuraba said. “We don’t talk much. Our parents are close, though.”
Yukie nodded as the three girls watched Akaashi get quickly absorbed into the team.
“So, what do you think?” Kaori asked. “Bokuto-san can be... a bit much, but the rest of the team’s pretty chill.”
Sakuraba smiled and bowed politely. “I’d be honored if you’d let me join the team as a manager.”
"Oh, what's this! WE HAVE ANOTHER MANAGER!" Bokuto grinned, running towards the three girls.
“Bokuto! Don’t scare the first-year!” Yukie scolded, stepping protectively in front of Sakuraba.
"Eeh! Sorry," Bokuto said sheepishly. "But look, we have a first-year here too!"
Across the gym, Akaashi was still trying to recover from being dragged into a practice drill without consent. Sakuraba met his gaze and smiled.
He blinked in surprise, then offered a hesitant smile back.
Well. At least he got something out of losing that pencil.