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Family dinners had always been a small anchor in the whirlwind of the Takahashi siblings’ lives.
Even as volleyball swept them across cities, even as practices stretched until their legs ached and their backs screamed for rest, they always found their way back to a single table. Whether it was at home with their parents or just the three of them gathered in some apartment with mismatched plates, they’d sit down together and eat.
To Rui, that small ritual meant more than he liked to admit. It was proof that no matter how far volleyball scattered them, no matter how many flights or time zones stood in between, they still belonged to each other. A dinner table became their compass, pointing them back home.
Tonight was supposed to be one of those nights.
Rui had left practice with Suntory Sunbirds earlier than usual, towel still hanging around his neck as he jogged to the car. His mind wasn’t on the drills or the coach’s feedback—it was on the familiar warmth of his younger brother’s laughter, the way Riri always wrinkled her nose at Ran’s bottomless appetite, the chatter and interruptions that stitched them together like an old song. Even when the food wasn’t special, the company was. It was the soft relief of being with family after weeks of intensity.
But when he got home, the apartment was too quiet.
Riri was there, sitting cross-legged on the couch, her phone balanced in her hands. The table had already been set—plates lined neatly, chopsticks placed with a care that spoke of her eagerness for Ran to arrive. But her eyes flicked to Rui with a tension he caught immediately, the kind of silence that hums louder than words.
“He hasn’t answered.” Her voice fragile in the dim light. Rui set his bag down by the door, the thud unnaturally loud. “What do you mean?”
“I called him earlier when you texted you were on your way. He didn’t pick up. I tried again just now. Anri-neesan also got nothing.”
He frowned, pulling out his own phone. The screen glared back at him—three missed attempts, all unanswered. Ran wasn’t careless about this kind of thing. If he said he’d be there, he’d be there. And if he couldn’t, he’d at least send a text. Always.
“Maybe practice ran late?” Rui tried, though the excuse sounded flimsy, like paper trying to hold back a storm. Riri shook her head. “Even then, he’d text.” Her fingers tightened around her phone until her knuckles paled.
“What if something happened?” The worry in her voice twisted something inside him. He didn’t like seeing her uneasy—it reminded him too much of when they were younger, when it was just the three of them figuring things out while their parents worked late. The same protective instinct surged in him like muscle memory.
“I’ll go check his apartment,” Rui said firmly, grabbing his keys. “It’s closer than the gym. If he’s not there, I’ll call Ishikawa-san or Otsuka-kun.”
Riri hesitated, teeth worrying her lower lip, then nodded. “Please let me know.”
-
The drive to Ran’s apartment blurred past in streaks of neon and headlights. Rui’s mind spiraled, each thought heavier than the last.
Ran wasn’t invincible, no matter how much he liked to act like it. Rui had watched him grow from a lanky kid who idolized every volleyball star he saw into a young man who threw himself into every game as if it was the last one he’d ever play. That kind of fire… it burned bright, but it also burned fast.
And though Ran rarely fell ill, the times he did had always unsettled Rui. It was as though seeing his younger brother slowed down, confined to bed, shattered the illusion that Ran’s energy was endless. Rui had always carried the unspoken belief that as long as Ran kept moving, he was safe. Silence? That was different. Silence left too much room for fear.
By the time he reached the building, Rui’s pulse had quickened. He didn’t bother overthinking—he went straight up, knocked hard on the door, ready to scold Ran for making them worry.
But the door swung open to reveal not Ran.
Yuki Ishikawa stood there.
Rui blinked, momentarily caught off guard. The captain of Japan’s national team was not someone he expected to find in his brother’s doorway, wearing casual clothes and looking… comfortably at home.
“Ishikawa-san?” Rui’s tone was sharper than intended. “What are you doing here?”
Yuki’s expression remained calm as he opened the door, bowing lightly, his movements deliberate and polite. “Good evening, Rui-san,” He greeted, voice steady but courteous. He straightened and tilted his head toward the apartment’s interior. “Ran’s asleep. He’s running a fever.”
The words struck Rui like a blow, knocking the breath from his chest. Instinct urged him forward—he nearly stepped inside—until he realized Yuki had already shifted to the side, making space for him to enter. The invitation was there, unspoken and respectful. But Rui stopped himself at the threshold.
He didn’t need to see more to know what waited inside. Ran lying pale with exhaustion, the faint rise and fall of his body, Yuki’s presence close by. That image was enough. “A fever? He never gets sick. He didn’t answer my calls—our sister was worried sick. Why didn’t he—”
“He tried,” Yuki interrupted gently, tone soft yet sure. “He picked up his phone earlier, but he didn’t have the strength to type. I told him to rest. I’ll take care of things tonight.” Yuki said with certainty in his voice.
He had seen Ishikawa plenty of times from a distance—on the court, giving orders with a captain’s authority, or offering a quick bow when their paths crossed at matches. But never like this. Never with such quiet, unshaken resolve meant not for a team, but for one person. For his brother. For Ran.
Looking at him now, Rui saw not obligation, but choice. Protectiveness. A steadiness that seemed to fill the space between them.
Yuki inclined his head again, the gesture respectful but grounding. “Please don’t worry, Rui-san. I’ll stay with him. He just needs rest, fluids, and someone nearby. I’ll see to it. I'll update you.”
For a moment, Rui bristled. For years, he had been the one who looked after Ran. Even when Ran annoyed him, even when they clashed, Rui had been his shield. It was his role—older brother. The thought of someone else stepping into that role stirred something sharp in him, something almost jealous.
But then, he thought of Ran. The way his little brother’s stories always circled back to Ishikawa, the spark in his eyes whenever he mentioned him, the subtle shift in his tone whenever Yuki gave him advice. And now… Ishikawa standing here, as if it was the most natural thing in the world to care for Ran.
Rui swallowed. He already knew, deep down, what this meant.
"He must’ve pushed himself too hard again,” Rui muttered, almost to himself.
“That sounds like him.”
There was a beat of silence before Rui nodded. “Take care of him, Ishikawa-san. He won’t admit it, but he needs someone to remind him he’s not invincible.”
“I know,” Yuki replied simply.
And somehow, Rui believed him.
-
On the way home, Rui’s thoughts tangled with memories.
He remembered Ran as a child, chasing after him with a volleyball too big for his hands. He remembered the countless times he had teased him, scolded him, but always, always cared. Being Ran’s older brother had shaped him—given him a responsibility he never questioned, a role that defined him as much as volleyball itself.
And yet tonight, standing in that doorway, he realized something. Ran had found someone else who could shoulder part of that weight. Someone who didn’t just see him as the energetic younger brother to protect, but as an equal worth standing beside.
Maybe that was what unsettled Rui most. Not the fever, not the unanswered calls, but the truth that Ran’s need for him had found room to be shared.
But as the car pulled into the lot near home, Rui exhaled slowly, letting the thought settle like dust on sunlight. Maybe that wasn’t a bad thing.
Rui allowed himself to admit it; Ishikawa was good for Ran. He grounded him, steadied him, and maybe even understood him in ways Rui never could.
-
Back at the apartment, Riri looked up the second Rui walked in. Her eyes were wide, waiting, fragile with hope. “Well?”
Rui smiled faintly, ruffling her hair with a gentleness that belied the chaos in their head. “He’s fine. Just a fever. Ishikawa-san’s with him.”
Riri's brows rose, the title rolling off her tongue as if she’d been expecting him all along. “Captain Ishikawa?”
“Yeah.” Rui sank into the couch, the weight of the night finally settling across his shoulders like an old coat. “Don’t worry. He’s in good hands.”
Riri studied him for a long heartbeat, then let a small smile unfurl, the tension in her face loosening like a knot undone.
Good hands—sure and gentle. That much was undeniable.
And though Rui would always be the older brother, always ready to step in when needed, he could trust that his little brother had someone else in his corner now.
Someone who could meet him in the air, so the fall never felt so heavy.