Archive of Our Own

Through the darkness, a soft, pulsing red glow strokes the room. Green eyes flutter open through thick eyelashes. Akaashi takes in the blinking traffic light through the window overhead, tilting his chin to the ceiling. Stars twinkle in the blanket of black beyond the scarlet glimmer of the traffic light in the atmosphere. He sighs, his mind blank as his senses readjust to consciousness. He licks his sandpaper lips and swallows, a chill running down his spine as he watches the stars slowly drift across the sky.

Akaashi glimpses from the corner of his eye a dark shape, a shadow that, just for a moment, obscures the glow of the traffic light. He turns his head slightly toward the movement, thin brows furrowing. “Hello?” he tries, voice hoarse with disuse. Only silence responds.

There it is again. Just a tiny glance, though this one just a moment longer. Akaashi clears his throat, sitting up in bed. “Hello?”

He tries again. This time, his voice comes out even, though it sounds foreign to him. “Who’s there?”

His eyes scan the unfamiliar room around him. There are a few other beds lining the same wall, and a few beds mirroring on the opposite wall. Each mattress is neatly made, sheets folded sharply with identical blankets laid smooth across the top. Akaashi squints in the dim light, looking for the shadow he knows he saw.

“Come out. I know you’re there,” he says with a firmness he doesn’t quite feel.

“Aww, man! How did you know?”

Akaashi jolts at the words, not expecting such a loud response from so close. He twists around in bed, looking toward the window again. A boy squats on the windowsill, pouting with his arms crossed over his chest. His hair is remarkably white for such a child, messy and unmanageable, though perhaps that could have just been bec the strong gust of wind that barges into the room behind him.

Akaashi struggles for words. “I-I didn’t.”

The boy hops off the window, stamping a foot on the floor childishly. “You tricked me!”

“I guess I did,” Akaashi murmurs, swallowing the lump of fear that had appeared in his throat.

“Kuroo! Can you believe him? Already tricking me even though we just met!” He sweeps his head around, looking toward the window as another boy tumbles through the open window. His hair is messy too, sticking up in the back and hanging down over one eye, and Akaashi feels briefly self-conscious, wondering if his hair looks as bad as the other boys’ do.

The black-haired boy lands gracefully on his feet on the tiled floor, though his entrance was anything but. “That’s not so hard with you, Bokuto,” the boy—Kuroo—says with a wry grin.

The other boy—Bokuto, apparently—knots up his face in a grimace at Kuroo. “Not true!”

“Uh-huh.” Kuroo snickers.

“Nuh-uh!” Bokuto turns his back on Kuroo.

“Uh-huh.”

“Nuh-uh! Now shh,” Bokuto hisses with a finger to his lips. “What’s your name?” he asks abruptly, spinning around to face Akaashi again.

Akaashi’s eyes bounce open a little wider and he grips his blanket a little tighter in his hands. “My name is Akaashi.”

“Akaaaaaaah-shee,” Bokuto tried it out, horribly butchering the name. Akaashi whispers it again under his breath, but the white-haired boy ignores him. “I like it! Come on! Let’s go home.” Bokuto says it as if Akaashi’s known him his entire life, like they’re just deciding to depart from a day trip to the aquarium.

Akaashi sputters, wringing his blanket in his hands. “Home?”

“Yeah, come on. You’re one of us now,” Bokuto declares, holding out a hand to the younger boy.

“One of you?”

“Yep, you’re a Lost Boy, now.” Bokuto wiggles his hand again, waiting for Akaashi to take it.

“More like a Lost Parrot,” Kuroo jokes.

Akaashi’s drawn to this boy, in ways that he can’t explain or understand. Comforted by the boy’s warm, bright aura, Akaashi puts his hand in Bokuto’s and slides out of bed, abandoning his blanket.

“There we go! Kuroo, the dust,” Bokuto bows, holding his hand with Akaashi’s out toward the other boy. Kuroo pulls a pouch from the belt around his tunic-like shirt and sprinkles what looks like glitter into his palm.

Akaashi opens his mouth to ask what it is, but before he gets a word out, Kuroo holds his palm out toward Akaashi and blows the shimmering dust into his hair and face. Akaashi coughs, wiping his tongue on the sleeve of his pajamas. “What—what was that?”

“Pixie dust,” Kuroo winks, tucking the pouch away again and climbing back onto the windowsill. “Makes you fly!”

“But only if you think wonderful thoughts,” Bokuto warns, falling very serious.

“Like this!” Kuroo closes his eyes, smiles, and jumps off the ledge, falling before swooping back up into the sky, his face bathed in the slow red flashes of the traffic light. “Come on!”

Bokuto boosts Akaashi up to the windowsill. “Go ahead! Think of faith, of trust!”

“You’ve already got your little bit of pixie dust,” Kuroo winks, holding out his hand too.

Akaashi’s heart flutters, but he’s not afraid. He trusts these boys, inexplicably. He can’t quite grasp onto a particular memory, so instead he fills his heart with the trust and love he hopes to feel someday and tips off the edge of the windowsill.

He completely bypasses Kuroo’s hand, and he angles his body in a smooth, natural arc that brings him up into the sky, arms held outstretched on either side of him. Bokuto’s beaming face meets him when Akaashi finally opens his eyes he didn’t realized he closed.

“Aghaashi! That was amazing!” Bokuto grabs his hand. “You barely hesitated at all!”

Akaashi can’t come up with any words, so instead he says nothing, instead focusing on the bigger, blockier hand grasping his. He blinks up at the owlish golden eyes of the other boy, sensing no ill will behind them. They are captivating, really.

Kuroo dances circles around the other two. “Let’s go!”

Akaashi snapped out of the daze Bokuto’s eyes had sent him into, being tugged higher into the sky. “Where are we going?” The words tumble out of his mouth without his permission, though he’d surely have granted it had he thought of them earlier.

“Why, Neverland, of course. Where else?” Bokuto says, as if it were obvious. He stretches his arms wide, sailing into the great beyond. “Second star to the right and straight on till morning,” he recites, holding up a finger matter-of-factly.

Akaashi is so wildly confused as to what or where Neverland is, who these boys are, and perhaps most importantly, why him? Akaashi can’t think of any reason that anyone would want to befriend a young boy with no memories, no reason to smile. By the time Akaashi realizes that he should probably voice his wondering about this “Neverland,” he determines that too much time has passed to go back to that topic, and so he remains silent, gazing down at the twinkling city lights below them.

The skyscrapers below look like toys Akaashi thinks he used to play with when he was younger. Somewhere in his mind, he knows he should feel something about leaving this city, but he can’t figure out why this place ever meant anything to him. It feels as if there’s a big hole in his stomach, or maybe his heart, where something is missing, but the shape keeps changing before he can figure out what it is.

Kuroo flies just ahead of the other two, doing loops to let them catch up whenever he gets a little too far ahead. Bokuto glances over at Akaashi frequently, his toothy grin never leaving his face. He ducks his head in front of Akaashi’s downcast face and into his line of vision. “Hey, hey, ‘Kaaaaashi, what’cha looking at?”

“I don’t know,” he admits, eyes not leaving the city.

“You’re awfully quiet, you know that?”

“You’re awfully… not,” is the best comeback Akaashi could come up with.

Bokuto bursts out in a loud guffaw, proving Akaashi’s point succinctly. “I guess you’re right!”

Bokuto continues to chatter on about how much he loves the stars, the moon, the sunrise peeking over the edge of the atmosphere, until Akaashi looks up to take in a massive floating island that seems to have come out of nowhere. Bokuto squeezes Akaashi’s hand. “Welcome to Neverland.”

Akaashi and Bokuto alight atop a cloud, soft like cotton beneath their bare feet, while Kuroo flies ahead, down toward the expansive island. Akaashi stares down, lips parted, as he takes in what looks like a paradise before him. Bokuto retracts his hand to set both on his hip confidently. “See over there? That’s where the merfolk live,” he says, pointing.

As the boy continues to describe the wonders of Neverland, Akaashi quickly tunes him out, taking a moment to breathe and absorb everything that’s happened. He looks at the other boy, just a bit shorter and probably about the same age as him—twelve, maybe thirteen at the oldest. Physically, he seems at least a couple years older, but the boundless spirit that emanates from Bokuto betrays his young age. Still, he’s blockier, sturdier, the type Akaashi relates to some type of athlete, though he can’t decide which.

A cloud above them shifts and sun spills over them, bathing Bokuto from behind. Akaashi raises a hand to block the brightness from his eyes and he nearly starts at the heavenly glow outlining the boy who brought him here. He didn’t think a guardian angel would look like an excitable little kid, but…? Maybe he’s wrong.

“Well? Are you ready?”

Akaashi blinks and makes eye contact with Bokuto, who looks on expectantly. He realizes immediately that he didn’t hear a single word of the white-haired boy’s monologue, but he figures it was nothing he couldn’t ask about again later. Akaashi bites his lip, nerves fluttering deep in his stomach, before he nods.

Kuroo has taken the liberty of organizing the welcoming committee. Dozens of other kids, some older than Akaashi, some younger, gather in a big clearing in the middle of the forest below them around a towering tree bigger and broader than anything Akaashi had ever seen before. The butterflies stir again as Bokuto dives off the cloud, drifting down to the gaggle of children below, Akaashi close behind.

“Bokuto’s back!”

“With a new Lost Boy!”

The previously garbled shouts from below gradually become clear as the pair descends, flapping their arms to mimic wings as they alight upon the trodden dirt. Immediately, they are flooded with bodies hugging and slugging and head-butting as the wave of kids greet Bokuto, whom Akaashi now realizes is probably their leader. Akaashi’s lost in the crowd, his chest constricting with the weight of another boy who hops up on his back.

“Who are you?” The boy asks, arms tight around Akaashi’s neck.

Bokuto waves some of the boys away, forming a moat of empty space between himself and the others. “Komi, let him go,” Bokuto commands, and the boy drops reluctantly from Akaashi’s back. His excitement returns nearly immediately as Bokuto holds his hand up, and a hush courses through the boys.

Komi wiggles, turning and shouting at the other boys, though they’re all silent. “Shh! Bokuto’s about to talk!”

“Thank you, Komi,” Bokuto flashes him a smile so bright that it nearly makes Akaashi dizzy. “We have a new addition to our family! His name is Akaashi.” He gestures to Akaashi, and the new Lost Boy rushes a bow to the group, taken aback by the way his name sounds in Bokuto’s voice when pronounced correctly. “Be nice to him,” Bokuto warns, before waving with both hands to signal that he was done talking, shooing the other kids away.

He turns sharply to Akaashi. “I’ll show you around. Follow me!” Without another word, he grabs Akaashi’s hand and yanks him across the clearing.

Bokuto finds his way confidently across the field, following a well-worn path toward the massive tree—Akaashi can’t remember what kind it is, but he feels like he knew at some point. Bokuto lets go of Akaashi’s hand to move a thick, dry piece of bark aside from the impressive trunk of the tree, revealing a hollow, and the entrance to the Lost Boys’ hideout.

He gestures to Akaashi. “After you,” he smiles, cheeks nearly forcing his eyes closed.

Akaashi cautiously ducks through the hole, following the hollow down into the cool earth. His feet hit solid, packed dirt and he looks around, taking in his surroundings. There’s a small open area with logs as makeshift benches, lone pillows for chairs, and a roughly woven rug of multicolored fibers.

“Like the rug? One of the Lost Boys made it to make the place feel homier,” Bokuto says, leaning against a deep, curling root peeking from the earthen walls.

Akaashi just nods, stepping into the space carefully. He feels as if he’s intruding, but he reminds himself that this is what he has now; this is where he lives.

Akaashi turns around, holding the edge of his pajama top. “Where do I sleep?”

Bokuto smacks the other boy on the back, ushering him toward an archway lined with stone and branches. “Well, we all sort of just pig-pile in here,” he explains, gesturing at the haphazard pile of pillows and blankets that takes up the entire large room. “So, wherever you want!”

Again, Akaashi just nods and takes a deep breath. He’s not so sure about having to sleep near and possibly touch all of these other kids, kids he doesn’t know at all. And again, he shoves the thought away, sitting down beside Bokuto when he flops down into the mound of bedding.

“It’s really hot outside; I’m surprised there isn’t anyone down here,” Bokuto observes, picking his nose. Akaashi’s mouth twitches at the sight in disgust, but he fights to keep his face neutral. “Where do you want to go today?”

Suddenly those sharp eyes are turned on his again, and Akaashi shifts, holding his knees delicately. “Where is there to go?”

Bokuto shrugs, launching into a detailed description of all of the landmarks and people in Neverland there are to visit and play with. Akaashi vaguely remembers some of these things, like the merfolk to the east and the wandering pirates, and with a soft flush of his face he realizes Bokuto already gave him this spiel, when they were gazing down at the island from the cloud tops. Bokuto doesn’t seem at all put off, excited to talk about his favorite places around the island.

Akaashi tries to listen this time, but with everything that’s happened, he finds it difficult. He catches mentions of a shimmering lagoon filled with merfolk, pirates that patrol the outskirts of the island, the biggest, oldest tree, even bigger than the one beneath which they live. The intimate details, which Bokuto is more than willing to supply, are lost as Akaashi considers the other boy in front of him.

Bokuto has a way with words, Akaashi’s noticed, where he doesn’t waste a single breath in declaring exactly what’s on his mind. That doesn’t stop him from speaking just about incessantly; as it turns out,
Bokuto’s mind is positively racing with thoughts that he wants to make sure everyone knows. Still, he doesn’t ramble, even when asking the bluntest of questions.

“Do you remember anything from before?” Bokuto looks at Akaashi curiously, the intense eye contact making phantom spiders crawl over his skin. He realizes immediately that there had been a few moments of silence between Bokuto’s descriptions and the abrupt question. He feels ashamed that he ignored Bokuto once again.

Akaashi clears his throat. “Um…”

Finally his mind overcomes Bokuto’s wide amber stare and his own embarrassment and starts to work on the question. He didn’t have much time to think about it before, but now, his mind is a blank slate. Any glimpse of a memory vanishes the further back he digs into his mind, like being put on the spot in front of a big class of older, smarter students.

Students. That scenario seems more familiar, perhaps the closest thing to a memory before he woke up to Bokuto’s bright, piercing eyes. Even still, besides a vague imagining of a bustling classroom, there’s nothing concrete enough for Akaashi to deem relevant. “No,” he admits. “I don’t remember anything.”

“That’s alright!” Bokuto smacks his thigh with a reassuring pat. “None of us really do. Bits and pieces, sometimes, but for the most part, we like to live in the present here.”

Akaashi shifts in the grass, picking at a blade between his slim fingers. “Where exactly is ‘here?’ I mean, you said ‘Neverland,’ but… where is that?”

Bokuto’s face scrunches up as he considers. “I don’t know! It’s wherever you want it to be. I hope it’ll be home for you someday.”

That strikes Akaashi, and he swallows. He doesn’t remember ever having a home before. He is, after all, a “Lost boy” now. But, if this place ever does become home, how will he know? What does it feel like?

Before he can ask Bokuto exactly what he meant by that, Bokuto rolls to his feet. “Let’s go to the lagoon,” he declares, more of a command than an offer.

Bokuto strides toward the ladder to the surface without looking back, as if he knows without a doubt that Akaashi will follow behind him. Once on the surface, he cups his hands around his mouth and shouted into the woods, “Lagoon field trip! Come if you’re coming!”

Several Lost Boys emerge from the woods at the summons. There’s a gangly, tall boy with silver hair and a crooked smile, a small boy with light brown hair who punches the taller one in the shoulder, and the little bouncy one from earlier. Komi, Akaashi recalls.

Bokuto nudges Akaashi and then points to each of the other boys in succession. “That’s Lev,” he says, pointing at the tall one, “Yaku,” to the shorter one, “and you should know Komi by now.” He smiles brightly at Akaashi, patting him roughly on the back. Akaashi isn’t expecting it and stumbles forward a bit, clearing his throat as he regains his balance.

Akaashi bows at the four sets of eyes on him. “Nice to meet you,” he murmurs.

Lev tugs excitedly at the bottom of his shirt, just short of bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Nice to meet you too!” Though he’s taller than Akaashi by several inches, Akaashi can tell that Lev is probably the youngest boy he’s met so far. He’s not sure exactly how he knows, but between the limbs Lev hasn’t yet grown into and the childish wonder on his face, he knows the giant boy must barely be double-digits.

Yaku, however, seems to be the exact opposite. He holds himself with confidence, and though he’s small like Komi, there’s an air of maturity that tells Akaashi he’s older than he looks.

Lev chatters away between his two companions as the small group takes off, stomping their way loudly through the forest. Akaashi listens in, unable to contribute to the speculation about where Lev’s favorite pillow went. He keeps his eyes on the forest floor, stepping over roots and rocks that the others maneuver around with easy familiarity.

“Hey, wait up!”

Akaashi stumbles to as stop and glances behind him, where Kuroo is sailing through the air, dodging trees left and right. He slams into Bokuto’s back and clasps his legs tightly around Bokuto’s middle. “What’s the big idea, leaving without me?”

Bokuto just laughs under Kuroo’s weight, tugging at the arms around his neck. “Hey, I made the call! It’s not my fault you didn’t show up.” Bokuto sticks out his tongue, looking over his shoulder.

Kuroo drops to his own feet, leaving a long arm resting across Bokuto’s shoulder. Bokuto’s arm comfortably finds his friend’s back. “You never leave without me, bro,” he whines with a pout.

“Sorry, bro.” Bokuto gently headbutts Kuroo from the side as they walk. Akaashi watches, envy low in his stomach. There’s no reason to be jealous of the other kids; they have obviously been friends for much longer than Akaashi could even guess. Maybe they’d known each other their whole lives?

Akaashi briefly considers asking how old everyone is, but Lev is still chattering on about his pillow, and he feels too awkward to butt in. He looks up just in time to catch a glimpse of a clearing leading to a cliff through the trees, and glistening blue beyond. His lips part slightly in awe as they approach and he stops short, taking in the wide lagoon, deep cerulean and still as glass.

“Welcome to Merfolk Lagoon,” Bokuto says with a flourish, ducking out of Kuroo’s grasp for an extra flair. “Some of the merfolk are grumpy, but a lot of them are fun, too!”

“I like Kindaichi! He’s fun to chase,” Lev blurts, stripping himself of his shirt in preparation of jumping in. “He’s kind of awkward, though,” he says thoughtfully, holding a finger to his lips.

“I’m sure they think the same thing about you, giraffe,” Yaku says with a sly grin and a snicker, smacking Lev with his own shirt.

Lev doesn’t quite process the affront, and instead looks to Bokuto. “Can we go down now?”

Bokuto grins, showing his teeth again. “Sure! Akgashee, let’s go!” Bokuto yanks Akaashi by the hand, skidding down a worn but thin path down the side of the cliff, Kuroo and Komi close behind.

Lev disregards the path entirely, instead taking a running leap straight into the water. He shouts with glee all the way down, and Akaashi’s stomach flips just watching as the gangly boy falls. Yaku shouts after him, “You idiot! You’re gonna hurt yourself again!”

Kuroo laughs behind Akaashi, running a hand along the cliff face. “What a mom,” he jokes.

As they reach the bottom of the cliff, Bokuto leads them across a trail of rocks, toward a cove on the edge of the lagoon. Lev and two of the merfolk wave from the middle of the water, and Akaashi raises a hand in acknowledgement. One of the merfolk with Lev dives back underwater, his shimmery deep blue fluke splashing Lev from behind. Akaashi smiles and laughs.

“To what do we owe the honor, Bokuto?”

Akaashi turns his head toward the voice and finds a boy—no, a young man, Akaashi decides—leaning his arms up against the rocks behind him. His tail floats lazily in the water in front of him, a pale green with flecks of gold.

Bokuto gestures to Akaashi. “Just a tour for our newbie here. This is Akaashi! Akaashi, meet the leader of the merfolk, Oikawa.”

“Pleasure,” Oikawa says, flipping his hair out of his eyes. It’s chestnut brown and looks as soft as a kitten’s, and—it’s dry, he realizes, a little confused. He must have been sitting above water for a while for it to be as dry as it looks.

Akaashi bows in return. “And mine as well.” He rests his feet on the rock, slippery with wet algae. He looks around, catching sight of another merperson sunning his tail and back as he lays across a flat rock. Another surfaces beside Oikawa, flipping water at Kuroo with his tail.

Kuroo blinks, sticking his tongue out at the merfolk. “Nice to see you too, Iwaizumi,” he grins, shedding his shirt and tossing it onto a branch behind him. He leaps into the water, splashing Iwaizumi and Oikawa.

“Oya! What’s your problem?” Oikawa scolds Kuroo as he surfaces, flipping his hair again.

Kuroo smirks, chin brushing the surface as he treads water. “What do you mean? You tryin’ to look pretty for the visitors, or for your boyfriend?”

Iwaizumi just rolls his eyes and splashes Kuroo again. He turns his eyes on Akaashi. “Ignore him. And Oikawa. You’ll be fine if you do that,” he advises, dipping beneath the water again.

Akaashi just blinks. Bokuto reaches out and tugs at the sleeve of Akaashi’s shirt. “C’mon, let’s jump in!” He’s already pulling off his own shirt, and Akaashi follows, crossing his arms over his skinny chest. Bokuto jumps, and Akaashi hesitantly crouches and sits on the rock before sliding slowly into the water.

As he grows accustomed to the water, Akaashi’s mind drifts, tuning out Bokuto, Kuroo, and Oikawa’s bickering. His body drifts too, and he kicks onto his back and floats, watching the crystal blue sky above shift into a pale pink color as the sun begins to dip beneath the treeline. Perhaps they shouldn’t have gone out so late in the day, Akaashi considers as he follows the stray rays of sunshine that slip through the clouds on the horizon.

Bubbles break the surface to his left and Akaashi straightens up to tread water, shock shooting through his heart as a new face greets him abruptly: one with lazy, half-lidded eyes, dark hair slicked back with water, and a grin that looked like it rarely left the merfolk’s face.

“Um, hello,” Akaashi stutters.

“Hey there.”

Akaashi jumps at the voice that greets him from behind. He twists around in the water and finds another merperson, one with a similar coy expression, but with soft pink hair that matches the twilight sky. “We hear you’re new around here, huh?”

Akaashi nods, unable to get any words out before the dark-haired one starts speaking. His voice is deeper than Akaashi expected. “Makki, he looks so scared. We’re merfolk, not sharks,” he says, in a tone reminiscent of Bokuto’s when he pouts, though his expression remains the same sly smirk.

“Yeah, the biggest fish you’ll see in this lagoon are trout, maybe bass. And us, but, we don’t like to be called ‘fish,’” Makki supplies.

Akaashi clears his throat, nodding. “Right.”

“Mastukawa! Hanamaki! Stop harassing the new kid!”

When he looks up, Bokuto’s already halfway across the lake, swimming toward them. “Be nice or go chase Lev around,” he says when he arrives, flicking water in Hanamaki’s face.

The dark-haired one—Matsukawa—presses his palm to his chest, aghast. “Bokuto, you wound us. You think we’re not being the most gracious of hosts?” Makki dips below the water and surfaces beside Matsukawa, mirroring his affronted look.

Bokuto just smiles brightly. “Not really, no! You’re kind of mean to newcomers,” he explains, taking Akaashi’s wrist underwater. “It’s starting to get dark, anyway. We’re gonna head back,” he says, talking to Akaashi this time. Akaashi nods, kicking back toward shore.

“Boo, no fun!” Hanamaki croons from behind Matsukawa. “See you later, newbie!”

As the distance between them grows, Bokuto lets Akaashi’s hand go. “Sorry. They’re really just big goofballs but they can’t tell when they get too close or too intimidating.”

Akaashi’s less worried about the pair of mildly threatening merfolk and more touched that Bokuto came to his rescue. He sighs as they march out of the water, releasing a tension he didn’t even realize was building up inside his stomach throughout the intimidating encounter.

Retrieving their clothes, the pair meets up with a yawning Komi and a stretching Kuroo. “Yaku and Lev are already up the cliff,” Kuroo explains as they approach. His hair is still dripping, but somehow or another the back of his hair still stuck up. Akaashi smiles faintly, biting his lips so Kuroo can’t see it.

Akaashi follows the other three back up the cliff and back toward the camp. Bokuto and Kuroo lead the way confidently, while Lev trails behind pointing out bugs and birds and other nocturnal animals he glimpses through the falling darkness. Yaku bustles behind him, making sure the boy doesn’t get lost in his endless curiosity.

Komi falls into step beside Akaashi, flashing him a smile. “The merfolk are pretty cool, huh?”

Akaashi nods, offering a polite smile in return. “Yeah, they seem… nice,” he says lamely, realizing just how little time he spent with the others at the lagoon. “I like Iwaizumi, I think.”

Komi just laughs, sticking his hands in the damp pockets of his shorts. “Who doesn’t? Iwaizumi’s actually the best one there. He can seem a little grumpy but he’ll protect you from anything if you’re ever in real trouble,” Komi explains with a grin. “He and Oikawa are best friends and they help the whole lagoon run smoothly. Oikawa’s fun, but he’s so worried about getting his hair wet, half the time he doesn’t even play with us!” His grin falls to a pout.

Akaashi nods again, listening closely. They hike a few more paces before Akaashi works up the courage to ask, “Who was the one sunning on the rock? I didn’t get to meet them.”

“Oh, I think that was Yahaba,” Komi recalls. “Kyoutani usually drags him out, but I guess he was busy today.” Komi shrugs. “Kyoutani’s scary like Iwaizumi, but he’s actually just a big softie. He likes butterflies, and those little bugs that float on the water.”

“Water striders,” Akaashi supplies. Komi nods, accepting the information. Akaashi thinks to himself that the trend of scary-but-actually-nice seems to be the norm for the merfolk. Well, maybe except Oikawa, Akaashi decides. He seemed to be distinctly the opposite, recalling the image of Oikawa’s angry scowl as Kuroo splashed him.

Komi continues to babble on about the different types of bugs Kyoutani and Iwaizumi have shown him—insects seem to be a popular interest here, Akaashi observes as well—until they finally reach the clearing, where a big campfire is already raging in the darkness. An older kid with short hair is standing beside it, stoking the embers with a branch.

“Dinner is served,” the boy announces, handing out roast fish on skewers to the group returning from the lagoon.

Komi bounces up to take his, shooting a cheerful, “Thanks, Kai,” over his shoulder as he settles onto the dirt around the fire.

Akaashi takes the fish proffered to him. He bows slightly. “Thank you.”

The moment Akaashi settles onto an empty split-log bench, Bokuto hops up and shifts around the fire to sit beside him. His fish is already ravaged, Akaashi notices.

“So how are you liking the place?” Bokuto asks, tearing another piece of flesh from the poor trout.

“It’s… very beautiful,” Akaashi says with a nod, and suddenly he’s not so hungry anymore. So much has happened in just the past few hours and he’s still confused as to where he is, why he’s there, why everyone is being so nice and accommodating, and why he can’t remember anything except the name of certain bugs and a discomfort with being the center of attention.

Bokuto nods in return, waiting for Akaashi to continue.

“It’s… a lot to take in all at once,” Akaashi tries, hoping Bokuto wouldn’t stare him down again.

Luckily for him, Bokuto just smiles and tosses an arm comfortably over Akaashi’s shoulder. “That’s true. You’ll get used to it soon enough.”

Bokuto’s arm is heavy across his shoulder, far heavier than Akaashi would have suspected. He can feel the curve of Bokuto’s bicep against the back of his neck, forearm firm as it hangs down his shoulder. I suppose muscle really is heavier than fat, Akaashi finds himself thinking, looking self-consciously at his thin forearms. He could easily fit his fingers around his wrist, but Bokuto’s hand just above his elbow looks so broad it might be able to hold Akaashi’s thin neck without even threatening to cut off his air supply.

“You should eat,” Bokuto says, pointing at Akaashi’s fish with his now empty skewer. The fire is littered with fish bones from the other kids’ finished meals. Several of the others had already retired to the underground hideout.

Akaashi shrugs, taking a tiny bite from the thick of the fish.

“You don’t need to keep so much to yourself, you know, ‘Kashi,” Bokuto says, brushing his fingers against Akaashi’s arm. “I know the first day is hard, but friends make everything way more fun.” His voice had shifted from a playful, happy quality to a serious, confiding tone.

“You know what?” Without waiting for a response, Bokuto beams and answers for him, the bounce back in his voice. “I’m gonna be your first friend here! We’ll be besties! Well, except Kuroo’s also my best friend… Well, now I have two best friends!”

Akaashi’s heart feels like it swells in his chest, though some part of him knows that can’t be possible without severe health repercussions. All at once, tears flood his eyes and he shoves his half-eaten fish into Bokuto’s hand, standing up abruptly and tearing Bokuto’s arm from his shoulders. Akaashi runs across the clearing and into the woods, plopping himself behind the trunk of a wide tree several feet into the forest. The light from the campfire flickers against the bark of the tree in front of him, but Akaashi can’t see much more than muddled light through his tears.

He hears Bokuto’s footsteps crunch through the leaf litter before he sits down gently beside Akaashi, keeping a buffer of several inches between them. Bokuto rubs his elbow, sore from Akaashi’s abrupt departure.

They sit there without words for several moments, and Akaashi can feel Bokuto’s eyes on him when he begins to speak.

“Akaashi, I’m going to be here for you. You don’t need to talk or do anything or even acknowledge me, but—I know how lonely it can get on the first night and, well—you’re not alone. I’m here if you need me.”

Akaashi’s heart flips and his stomach churns and his head pounds. All of the day’s events come flooding back to him at once. He doesn’t want to be here in this unfamiliar place full of scary merfolk and obnoxious forest-dwelling boys. Rage boils in his tears as he wipes them on his shirt. Why can’t he remember even a tiny detail of who he was before? Did he have parents? A family? Friends? Even with no memories, he’d give just about anything to remember, and everything to go back.

Bokuto picks at a branch, stripping it of its bark nervously. “I know it’s hard, but… this is your home now. Take your time in making it your own,” Bokuto murmurs, and though he’s not so sure Akaashi can hear him over his sobbing and snorting, the hitch in Akaashi’s breath tells him otherwise.

With a whine, Akaashi slumps into Bokuto, both hands clutching the collar of his shirt as he hastily dries his tears. Bokuto jumps in surprise but accepts being used as an impromptu tissue He drops his branch and sets a broad, warm hand against Akaashi’s back, rubbing soothingly. “It’s okay, ‘Kaash. It’ll be okay.”

Akaashi doesn’t say anything in return. He just leans into the other boy and cries, and cries, and cries. He doesn’t know how much time passes, but he decides as he blinks away the final tears that it must have been a while; there’s no flicker of light from the fire on the tree before him anymore. Bokuto’s still rubbing his back, not pausing when Akaashi hiccups.

They sit there in silence, the only sound the echoing of someone’s footsteps in the dirt clearing and the hiss of water extinguishing the remaining embers from the fire. Akaashi hears Kuroo’s voice low and distant. “They’re still out there. Bokuto’s with him though, so he should be fine.”

“Poor kid. I remember my first night. Bokuto didn’t sit with me that way,” a faintly familiar voice says. Akaashi places it as the one who announced dinner earlier—Kai.

Kuroo laughs. “That’s because you bottled it up, then snuck out in the middle of the night.”

“That’s true,” Kai admits.

The pair’s footsteps retreat, the quality of the noise shifting as they climb underground, until they are left alone with the crickets and frogs.

Akaashi coughs gently, clearing his throat. “I’m-I’m sorry, Bokuto,” he mumbles lamely, and as expected, Bokuto hushes him.

“You have nothing to be sorry about. Besides, everything gets better after the first cry. Are you alright, now?” Bokuto looks Akaashi in the eye, his big owlish irises reflecting the meager light from the moon.

Akaashi hesitantly nods. “Yes, for now, I think. Thank you.”

He wipes at his eyes one more time with his forearm. Bokuto stands and offers his hand to Akaashi, helping him to his feet.

“You’ll be fine,” Bokuto says with surety. “I believe in you.”

A strong arm finds his back as they walk back to camp. Akaashi decides then that he likes Bokuto, and that he hopes the feeling of his strong touch becomes as familiar to him as the path through the midnight forest is to Bokuto.

As they hobble down the tree trunk, Akaashi’s already sensitive nerves flare again with worry: where will he sleep? He knows that Bokuto said anywhere, but these kids are bound to have routines. Where would he fit in?

Only Kuroo looks up when they walk in, everyone else already dozing. He smiles reassuringly, and Akaashi can feel the back of his neck heat up in embarrassment. He doesn’t like to cry in front of others. It leaves him feeling too open, too vulnerable.

Bokuto squeezes Akaashi’s hand and leads them across the mass of slumbering boys to an empty pocket of pillows. Bokuto flops down with ease, patting the space beside him for Akaashi.

Akaashi lowers himself slowly, shifting the cushions beneath him until he’s comfortable. “Is there a blanket?”

“Of course,” Bokuto replies, far too loud for the hour. Kuroo, on his other side, elbows him in the ribs as a reminder for Bokuto to use his indoor voice. He pouts at Kuroo, maintaining eye contact as he pulls on an unused blanket. He only looks away when he realizes the blanket is stuck under a messy splay of limbs. He leans back with this whole body, pulling the blanket out from beneath a boy with a mohawk slowly but surely. The boy doesn’t even shift from his deep slumber.

Akaashi smiles and rubs his eyes as Bokuto settles the blanket over the both of them. Kuroo snorts under his breath and grins crookedly, turning his back on the scene. Akaashi eases out a shuddering sigh, feeling considerably more comfortable without Kuroo watching them.

Bokuto shifts, pressing his back against Kuroo’s. He smiles warmly at Akaashi. “You okay?”

Akaashi nods, not trusting his voice after the stress of crying.

“C’mere,” he whispers, lifting an arm.

His heart feels funny, but Akaashi scoots closer. Bokuto’s arm tightens around Akaashi’s waist, and Akaashi leans his forehead against Bokuto’s broad chest. The butterflies in Akaashi’s stomach eventually settle down, giving into the warmth and comfort given off by the boy beside him.

“G’night, ‘Kaashi.”

Akaashi sighs again, feeling the tension in his muscles relax as he closes his eyes. “Good night, Bokuto.”

Maybe this won't be so bad.

“Where’s Bokuto?” Akaashi asks, snagging an apple from the basket Kai and Lev used to collect them. He shines it on his shirt before biting into it.

Kai responds first. “He and Kuroo out picking up another Lost Boy. They should be back soon,” he explains, assuming authority in the absence of the other two. He gives Akaashi a reassuring smile. “You won’t be the newest here anymore after today.”

Akaashi nods, humming to himself. He isn’t sure why, but a stab of worry hits him in the stomach. He ignores the feeling and instead busies himself with readying the fishing gear for his turn on the dinner rotation. Konoha returns from the forest with a cupful of worms for bait and the two start out for the river.

Fishing goes well and quickly, without much more than a couple of words between the boys. It isn’t an awkward or heavy silence anymore, but comfortable and almost familiar. The days had turned to weeks and the weeks to months—well, maybe, Akaashi’s lost track of exactly how long it’s been. But the forest is passing more smoothly beneath his feet, which are growing calloused from barefooted travels. His cast is becoming like second nature, reeling in trout as if he’d been doing it his whole life.

There is still some glimpse of emptiness in his chest, a gap in a shape he can’t quite make out just yet. He feels like he’s missing something, and whether it’s important is something Akaashi has yet to determine. No one else lets on that they’re feeling the same thing, but then again, Akaashi doesn’t broadcast his feelings to everyone he meets.

He and Konoha haul their load of fish back to camp, where Sarukui and Yamamoto set to preparing it for their next meal. Kai sits atop one of the logs around the empty fire pit, whittling away at a branch in his fingers.

Akaashi sits beside Kai, glancing over at his work. “Are Bokuto and Kuroo back yet?”

Kai pauses, blowing his half-finished figurine—a long, stretching cat. “I haven’t seen them yet, actually. I wouldn’t be too worried though; sometimes it takes the new ones some coaxing.”

Akaashi nods, watching as Kai returns to his whittling. He drops his gaze to the ground, digging a little trench in the dirt with his toes.

“How do they know?” he asks. “When a new kid’s supposed to come here, I mean. Do they have to come here when Bokuto goes to get them?”

Kai stops his carving altogether this time, stabbing his knife into the log beside him. “Honestly, I don’t really know. I think it’s just a feeling Bokuto gets, and since Kuroo’s the keeper of the pixie dust, he goes along too. I’ve never heard of anyone refusing before, though.”

“Hm,” Akaashi hums, pulling his foot up to brush dirt from between his toes. “Interesting.”

As if summoned, Kuroo glides across the sky just then, banking into a gentle spiral toward the ground. “Incoming!”

He lands in the grass on the edge of the clearing, sticking his two little fingers in his mouth to let out a whistle that anyone in the surrounding forest could have heard. Soon, Lost Boys were spilling from the forest, ready to greet their new brother.

Kuroo braces himself on Akaashi’s shoulder, stepping up onto the log beside him. “Hey everyone! The new guy’s pretty shy, so try not to swarm, please! Be nice and give him a little space, a’ight?”

Akaashi glances up at Kuroo, a little bit of ice slipping into his gaze. “Why didn’t you tell them that when I showed up?”

Kuroo meets his eyes and flashes a grin. “You weren’t so much shy as you were quiet. This kid, though—he’s definitely what I’d call shy,” Kuroo explains, using Akaashi’s shoulder again as he steps down from the log. “You two actually might get along well, I think.”

“We’ll see,” Akaashi says, watching the sky as two figures slowly make their way toward the ground. One he knows to be Bokuto, but the other is smaller, far daintier than Bokuto. He keeps his distance from the leader of the Lost Boys, not holding his hand as Akaashi had on his first descent.

The two of them land on the edge of the clearing just as Kuroo had, and Akaashi could see Bokuto turn and ask the boy if he was okay. The boy nods his head, letting his shoulder-length hair swing forward to block most of his face. He holds onto his elbow, and Akaashi can almost see him shaking from here.

Bokuto hops up atop the log. “Hey everyone! This is our new Lost Boy, Kenma!” Bokuto’s excitement is contagious and cheers ripple through the crowd of kids. True to Kuroo’s words, the boys keep their distance, allowing space for the visibly anxious blond boy to stand and breathe. “Be nice!” With that, the introduction’s over, and Bokuto steps down, turning back to Kenma.

As the rest of the gathering scatters, returning to their respective activities, Akaashi stands behind Bokuto, reaching a hand out to touch his arm. He turns and a huge smile breaks out on his face when he sees who it is. “Hey, hey, ‘Kaash!”

“Good morning, Bokuto.” He can’t help but smile back. The smile remains as he turns to Kenma, bowing in greeting. “Nice to meet you, Kenma. I’m Akaashi.”

Kenma looks a little bewildered at the sudden attention, but he bows slightly in return, amber eyes flashing up to meet Akaashi’s. “Nice to meet you too,” he murmurs. He twists the cuffs of his sleeves around his hands nervously.

Bokuto swings an arm over Akaashi’s shoulder, addressing Kenma. “So, what do you want to see first?”

Before Bokuto can list off the options Kenma no doubt had heard on their flight, Kenma replies, “Is there an ‘inside?’”

Bokuto nods, gesturing toward the tree that houses the passageway to the hideout. “Sure thing!”

Bokuto leads them all toward the tree and down into the earth. His arm only wavers from Akaashi’s shoulder on the way down, and Akaashi can’t let the small grin on his lips leave his face, even as Bokuto finally takes his arm away to gesture about at the space before them.

Kenma stands at the edge of the rooms, looking around at all of the patchwork seating, the multicolored rug, the haphazard pile of cushions and blankets they consider a bed. He nods faintly and picks a thick red pillow to sit down on. “I’m going to rest here,” Kenma says with a firm nod, pulling out a small device from his sweatshirt. He flips it open easily with one hand and turns on a game.

Bokuto smiles. “Well, we’ll be up top if you want to join us!”

Akaashi follows, throwing another glance back at Kenma before they climb back to the clearing. “You aren’t going to make him come outside?”

“No, why would I?” Bokuto spins on one foot, drawing his eyebrows together at Akaashi. “That’s just mean. He’ll come say hi when he wants.” He taps Akaashi’s arm and takes off running, beaming back at him. “Tag, you’re it!”

Akaashi grins and jogs after him. “Not for long!”

“Hey, Kenma—” Akaashi stops short in the entrance of the hideout, taking in the scene before him.

Kenma’s handheld lays open on its side, the screen black. A Kenma-shaped lump several feet away shudders beneath the stack of blankets there. He hears a sniff, and Akaashi moves to sit gently beside the lump, placing a gentle hand on what he’s pretty sure is Kenma’s shoulder.

He doesn’t say anything. Kenma burrows a little deeper into the bundle of blankets, sniffing and coughing. He doesn’t jerk his arm away, and Akaashi takes that as a good sign. Kenma grabs the blankets around him and yanks them over his head as he sits up and leans back against the packed earthen wall.

“The battery’s dead,” he says, voice frail and trembling. He reaches out with one foot, kicking the discarded game on the floor. “It was all I had left.”

Akaashi nods understandingly. He isn’t sure which words would make this situation better or worse for the new Lost Boy, so instead he stays silent.

Kenma pulls his knees to his chest and bunches the blankets around his chin. “What did you want?” he asks flatly, wiping his red-rimmed eyes on the back of his hand again.

Finally, Akaashi speaks. “I wanted to know if you wanted to come with us to go visit some of the other kids on the north end of the island. It’s alright if you don’t want to come; we’d understand.”

“No, I’ll come.”

That isn’t the answer Akaashi’s expecting, but he’ll take it. Kenma rises, leaving behind all but one of the blankets.

“You know,” Akaashi begins hesitantly, “I was the new kid up until this morning. It does get easier,” he assures Kenma quietly as he stands too.

Kenma mumbles something inaudible in response, climbing to the surface.

Akaashi sighs in relief that Kenma’s no longer holing himself up underground and follows him up, eyes instinctively searching for Bokuto in the small crowd of kids waiting in the field. Bokuto’s eyes meet his as he finishes a head count, bounding over happily.

“He agreed to come?”

Akaashi nods, smiling as he nods over at Kenma, wrapped up in his blanket and scowling at Lev. Kuroo flicks a piece of bark at the tall boy, causing Kenma to smirk behind the fingernails between his teeth. “Yes. He’ll be just fine,” Akaashi says, mostly to himself.

“See? Told you, ‘Kaash.” Bokuto pulls Akaashi close with his arm around his shoulders. “Everyone ready?” Akaashi winces at the volume of Bokuto’s voice right by his ear as he shouts to the group, but he doesn’t really mind. He’s come to learn that Bokuto is impulsive first, and considerate second. Sure enough, Bokuto sees his reaction and squeezes his shoulder tighter. “Oh, sorry ‘Kaash!”

Akaashi smiles. “It’s alright, Bokuto. Lead the way.”

The group of kids march off into the woods, Bokuto and Akaashi in the lead. Bokuto retracts his arm from Akaashi’s shoulders in favor of grabbing his hand and lacing their fingers together. “It’s easier to walk this way,” Bokuto says with a smile, and Akaashi can’t help the little backflip his heart does. He squeezes the hand in his and glances back just in time to catch Kuroo making a gagging gesture to Kenma.

Akaashi figures that the smile and laughs from Kenma and the others are worth his embarrassment, and he grins to himself as he looks ahead. He contemplates telling Bokuto that they’re laughing at them, but he decides against it, wishing to keep the peace and, more importantly, Bokuto’s hand in his. Akaashi has to admit it—something about the contact just feels right.

They walk hand-in-hand, and Akaashi lets Bokuto lead, letting him maneuver them around trees that would normally pass between them so they don’t have to let go just yet. They only part when they emerge from the forest, spilling into another wide field just like the one above their own hideout.

Bokuto shouts, cupping his hands around his mouth. “We’re here!”

“Bokuto!” Akaashi could almost hear the long string of exclamation points following Bokuto’s name as a tiny orange blur swings down from the trees, running toward the leader of the Lost Boys. “Bokuto!” The blur—a small boy, Akaashi sees now—leaps and hugs Bokuto, body swinging with the momentum of his charge. Bokuto just laughs and hugs him back, more than happy for the attention.

“Hi Hinata!” Bokuto cheers, setting the boy down on his feet. He fixes his hands on his hips and looks down at Hinata. “Have you been practicing your tag skills?” He holds a hand up above his head, and Akaashi thinks for a fraction of a second that Bokuto’s being mean.

“You know it!” Hinata leaps into the air impossibly high, smacking Bokuto’s hand firmly in a high-five.

Akaashi looks around, seeing several other boys spilling from the trees. Lost Boys and these new kids mingle across the whole field, everyone saying their greetings to old friends. Akaashi stands by Bokuto until he’s approached by a tall, broad boy. Then, he decides to find Kenma. He’s probably feeling out of his element with so many people.

When he finds him, Kenma’s standing several paces away from where Kuroo, Yamamoto, Inuoka and Komi stand, entertaining an excitable pair of the other boys. He leans back against a tree, watching from a safe, quiet place.

Akaashi fiddles with the hem of his shirt, watching too. “I’ve never met these guys before either, so, if you wanted to stick together, that’d be okay with me,” he suggests, looking over at Kenma. His eyes are calculating, darting back and forth between each of the kids before him. It doesn’t seem like they get any rest, Akaashi thinks.

“That sounds nice,” Kenma says with a small nod. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

The orange-haired boy from earlier, Hinata, bounced up to the pair of Lost Boys, another sour-looking, dark-haired boy in tow. “Hi, I’m Hinata! You’re new, right?”

Kenma nods, hands picking at some lint in his pocket. Akaashi can tell he misses his video game.

“I’m Akaashi, and this is Kenma,” Akaashi introduces the two of them with a bow.

“Nice to meet you!” Hinata looks about ready to jump out of his own skin he’s so excited at the Lost Boys’ presence. He’s just shorter than Kenma, Akaashi observes, and he’s obviously one of the youngest in either group.

The sour-faced boy finally arrives beside Hinata and bows deeply and sharply. “Welcome! I’m Kageyama!” His voice is loud and intense, and as Hinata yells and cheers, it seems as if they’re competing with each other to be the loudest—and most annoying, Akaashi thinks briefly.

He can see Kenma’s stiff body relax as he slouches again. The movement makes his hair curtain his eyes again, but that doesn’t hide his small smile of amusement from Akaashi as the two watch the other boys’ antics.

Bokuto’s wild hair catches his attention above the crowd as he leaps onto a large boulder toward the edge of the clearing, his voice projecting over the chatter and din of the dozens of children. “Hey! Who wants to play tag?”

Immediately, the kids jump and cheer, Hinata included. The tiny boy turns back to them quickly, though Akaashi can tell his eyes are mostly on Kenma. “Do you want to play tag with me?”

Kenma shrugs. “I don’t care one way or the other.”

“Come on, then!” Hinata grabs him by the wrist and pulls him into the fray.

Akaashi grins and follows after them, watching the others shift in a perfect wave as Bokuto yells again, “Nishinoya’s it!”

Everyone scatters, running from a short boy with an unruly blond cowlick and a fire in his eyes. Nishinoya darts toward another boy and dives into a somersault with a scream, “Rolling thunder!”

His outstretched hand smacks the boy’s back and he pops back up with a cheer. “Ryuu’s it!”

Ryuu glowers at Nishinoya for a moment before squatting and yelling back, “Bro, that was so cool!” The pair bellow excitedly and incoherently for several seconds before Ryuu stands again, dashing off in search of the next one to be “it.”

Akaashi smiles and laughs, hopping out of reach of whoever’s “it,” grinning almost devilishly as Bokuto falls victim to Yamamoto. Bokuto charges across the field, and Akaashi swerves out of the way, laughing. Bokuto’s easy to read and more brawn than speed, so many of the kids manage to evade his extended hand for quite some time.

Akaashi sees frustration building in Bokuto’s face when he stands up straight after missing Hinata for the third time, hands fixed on his hips while he takes a deep breath. Akaashi’s only heard stories of Bokuto’s “dejected mode,” when he loses one too many times at the games they play; he either becomes unstable and irrational, or he refuses to play at all anymore, declaring the game “for babies, anyway.”

It doesn’t sound like any fun, and Akaashi almost can’t believe that Bokuto would act that way. The way his brows stitch together as he observes his speedy prey, however, tells Akaashi otherwise.

He wipes a few beads of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand before cupping his palms around his mouth, “You can do it, Bokuto! You’re the best at tag!”

Bokuto’s eyes meet Akaashi’s from across the field, and he grins and straightens. “You’re right, Akaashi! I am!” With that, he takes off again. He manages to brush his fingers against Sarukui’s back, though it was mostly because Bokuto threw him off with his proclamation. “Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto cheers, clenching his fists victoriously.

Sarukui slows, throwing a mostly forced smile back at Bokuto. “Nice tag, Bokuto.”

Bokuto beams back at him, shooting him a thumbs up. “Thanks!” His eyes meet Akaashi’s again, and Akaashi almost swoons with the pure admiration and gratitude he sees reflected in his golden irises, even from several yards away.

Akaashi smiles.

“What kind of name is ‘Lev’ anyway? Aren’t you Japanese, too?”

Having decided to stay the night with the other group—the Crow Kids, Akaashi’s learned they call themselves—they all sit scattered around in the cool, lush grass, talking and passing around fruit and fish for supper as the sun dips below the horizon. A fire crackles, releasing flecks of ash into the darkening sky.

Akaashi sits between Bokuto and Hinata, who has taken quite an interest in Kenma. He watches Kenma smile fondly at Hinata while the small orange boy chatters on about anything and everything, eventually pausing to ask Lev about the origins of his name.

“I’m half Russian,” Lev declares proudly, chest puffing out.

“Top half or bottom half?” Kuroo jokes, grinning around the piece of grass between his teeth.

Lev looks at him blankly before Yaku cuts in, “Is your given name Japanese or is it Russian too?”

“What?” Lev looks even more confused at Yaku. “Lev is my given name.”

A chorus of surprised gasps and understanding ‘ahh’s rang out from around the campfire. Hinata shouts over them, “What’s your family name, then?”

“Haiba.”

“Gwah! You couldn’t have introduced yourself as that?!” Hinata howls, nearly gaining air with his enthusiasm. “That’s so much easier to pronounce than ‘Lev!’ Lev. Ri-e-fu,” he repeats to himself, still struggling with the foreign name until he bursts out one more time with, “Haiba!”

Lev just shrugs. “I never really understood the whole Japanese thing about giving your family name first. I get it for like, strangers and stuff, but between friends, it just seems so impersonal to me.”

Kenma nods in agreement. Lev catches the movement out of the corner of his eyes and points at him. “See, Kenma gets it!”

“Kenma is my given name as well. My family name is Kozume,” he explains quietly, shifting uncomfortably in his seat at the eyes on him. Lev sends him a big smile and a thumbs up.

“Yaku, what’s your given name?” Lev turns his big, cat-like eyes on his shorter friend.

Yaku shies under the sudden attention. “M-Morisuke.”

“Aww, Mori-kun! That’s such a cute name!” Lev cheers, and soon the whole crowd is chattering, sharing their given names with their neighbors.

Akaashi watches as Hinata bounces in his seat, eager to introduce himself to Kenma. “My given name is Shouyou!” Kenma smiles.

Bokuto catches Akaashi’s attention with a tap on his arm, looking at him with hopefulness in his eyes. Akaashi flushes slightly, tucking a stray lock of hair behind his ear. “Keiji,” he says, though even to him the name sounds just as foreign on his own tongue as the Russian’s does.

“Keiji,” Bokuto repeats, the stars in his eyes bursting to fireworks. It feels more familiar in his mouth than the name had ever felt in Akaashi’s own, and he smiles as Bokuto repeats it once, twice, thrice. His eyes lock with Akaashi’s again, light from the fire flickering in the gold of his irises. “Nice to meet you, Keiji. I’m Koutarou,” he introduces himself as if for the first time, extending his hand.

Akaashi takes it firmly, smile growing wider by the moment. His toothless smile bursts as Bokuto throws his arms around Akaashi—no, around Keiji, and squeezes the air from his lungs without restraint. Akaashi just laughs, holding him tightly in return. “Nice to meet you, Koutarou.”

From then on, Bokuto can’t seem to keep Akaashi’s given name from his mouth. Every phrase, every request, has “Keiji” tacked on at the end, not as an afterthought, but as if Bokuto has to make sure the other boy is talking to him. He’s much better at consistently pronouncing “Keiji” as well, though Akaashi has to admit he sometimes misses Bokuto’s haphazard cheers of “Aghasheeee!” or “’Kash!”

It’s not just Bokuto who makes use of knowing Akaashi’s given name. Kenma, when he does talk, addresses Akaashi as “Keiji” as well. Akaashi can’t decide whether that means Kenma thinks of him as a friend, or if that’s just his apathy toward the concept of family names showing through. He’s noticed Kenma calling Yaku “Mori,” and less frequently, Kuroo “Tetsurou.”

Akaashi smiles now, thinking about the friendship that has blossomed between Kuroo and Kenma. He wouldn’t have expected Kuroo to be the gentle type, one that accommodates Kenma when needed, but the two are nearly inseparable by the end of Kenma’s first week.

He’s on apple picking duty with them one morning, and Kenma climbs onto Kuroo’s shoulder without comment, using the extra height to reach the higher apples without needing to climb up the rickety branches. Kuroo tightens his grip on Kenma’s calves when Kenma leans out to reach a particularly ripe apple. Akaashi admires and almost envies their silent teamwork.

He can’t help but compare his own experience in joining the Lost Boys, jealous of the attention and effort some of the other kids are putting into being friends with Kenma. Sarukui and Konoha talk to Akaashi sometimes, but not to the degree he can tell Lev and Yaku and even the little orange boy from the Crow Kids talk to Kenma. Akaashi briefly wonders what he’s missing, and though Bokuto’s face flashes in his mind, he can’t help but feel ignored.

They return with their basket of apples and retire, their chores done for the day. Kuroo and Kenma join several of the other boys on a trip down to the lagoon, but Akaashi decides to sit this one out, instead seeking out Bokuto.

He finds the leader whistling a jaunty tune to himself as he returns from the forest. His face lights up when he sees Akaashi, exclaiming, “Hey, hey, Keiji!”

“Hello, Koutarou,” Akaashi greets in return. “Some of the boys went down to the lagoon,” he begins aimlessly, unsure of what to busy himself with other than Bokuto’s presence. Bokuto nods, watching Akaashi with those intense eyes that seem to always coax more words than he accounts for out of his mouth.

“I was wondering if you wanted to…” He pauses, shrugging. “I don’t know, hang out?”

“I’m feeling a sunbath, maybe a nap?” Bokuto suggests, stretching in the bright, early afternoon sun. “I was up kind of late last night playing marbles with Kuroo and Komi.”

Akaashi sighs with relief, thankful for Bokuto’s suggestion. If he had to decide what to do every second of the day, he’s sure they wouldn’t do anything. He nods and accepts Bokuto’s hand, walking across the dirt clearing around the fire and plopping down in the thick grass.

Bokuto wiggles a little, getting comfy. He lays flat on his back, lifting an arm to hook around Akaashi’s shoulders. Akaashi scoots closer, resting his head on Bokuto’s round bicep, running his free hand fretfully through the grass. Bokuto’s boundless energy seems to melt away with the warm heat, and Akaashi watches as the sunshine spills a calm, blissful expression over his face as he dozes off.

Akaashi lays there, curled against Bokuto’s side, head fixed just above his armpit. He divides his lazy attention between watching the peace in Bokuto’s face and the birds flitting playfully in the sky. He isn’t particularly sleepy, but some of Bokuto’s best company is when he’s asleep and calm.

Bokuto hums in his sleep, tightening the arm around Akaashi and pulling him onto his chest. Akaashi readjusts accordingly, nuzzling his cheek against the fabric of Bokuto’s shirt over his chest.

Thump, thump. Thump, thump.

Akaashi holds his breath as he listens to Bokuto’s heartbeat below his ear. It’s strong, steady, and reliable, just like Bokuto himself. He presses his ear closer, straining to hear the rhythm below.

“Your heartbeat sounds so nice,” Akaashi observes quietly, breaking the silence between them. He doesn’t expect the whisper to rouse the other, but it does.

Bokuto cracks one eye open to look down at him. “You’re weird, Keiji,” he slurs, voice thick with sleep. “But thank you.” His eye falls closed again, chest rising and falling softly beneath Akaashi’s head.

Akaashi flushes slightly, feeling self-conscious at his odd choice of compliment. He can’t deny that he meant it, though, closing his eyes and settling in to listen once more.

The darkness behind Akaashi’s eyelids shifts, and it seems for a moment that he’s dreaming. His body jerks, unprepared for such a steep fall into unconsciousness, and he’s once again laying in the grass with Bokuto, the leader of the Lost Boys.

He’s looking down at Akaashi again. “Are you alright? You jumped.”

Akaashi nods hesitantly. “Yeah, I’m… I’m okay,” he murmurs.

Sounds and colors flood back to him all at once, and he gasps, biting his tongue. It wasn’t a dream, but a memory.

A rhythmic beeping in time with Bokuto’s heartbeat behind his ribcage, inaudible whispers, stark white and gray shadows; a red line with bright green speckled around it. Nothing comes into focus, but with a mental jolt, Akaashi remembers.

It was a hospital.

He was in a hospital before.

He takes a sharp breath—not quite a gasp, but not quite a normal breath. “Koutarou?”

The older boy looks down at him again, eyes wide and clear of sleep. “Yeah?”

“I… I remembered. A little.”

Bokuto just waits, putting the pressure on Akaashi to continue, to explain what he remembered.

“I’m… This is heaven, isn’t it?”

Bokuto shifts his feet, crossing one over the other. “I mean, if that’s what you want to call it.”

Akaashi rolls over, looking Bokuto in the eye. “Is this the afterlife? Am I… Are we dead?”

For once, Bokuto’s nearly speechless. He doesn’t bluntly blurt out the answer. He stands under Akaashi’s accusing gaze and swallows before nodding gently. “Yeah. It is. We are.”

Akaashi stares, and though he knows the truth now, the reality hasn’t quite been absorbed. He curls his fingers into the fabric of Bokuto’s shirt. “I remembered being in a hospital, before you came for me.”

Bokuto nods.

“I died there.”

Again, Bokuto nods.

Akaashi’s beginning to understand, and as he considers it, it does make sense, why there are a bunch of kids just living by themselves on an island who knows where. It explains the flying, the mermaids, the consistent beautiful weather, fruitful trees and fish-full streams. “Are you some sort of angel?”

Bokuto flushes, smiling. “No, I’m just a kid like you.”

Akaashi doesn’t believe him.

“I never really figured out how it happened, but I do remember that it was quick, for me,” Bokuto says, as if talking about his first kiss or roller coaster or some other minor landmark event. “I figured it must have been a car wreck, and I never really thought about it after that. I’m at home here, y’know? I don’t remember much of what happened before, so I don’t miss it.”

Akaashi sighs, laying his head down on Bokuto’s chest again. “You don’t ever feel like something’s missing?”

Bokuto takes a moment of consideration before replying, which makes Akaashi listen closely. Bokuto doesn’t put much thought into the words that spill out of his mouth unless it’s important. “Yeah. I guess… There’s always been a little bit of something missing. I never really figured out whether that something was the memories, my parents, or what.”

Akaashi nods. “It’s like… you’re always a little bit lost, even though you know where you are,” he murmurs, a little embarrassed at his own words.

“Why do you think we’re called the Lost Boys, Keiji?” Bokuto smiles down at Akaashi, carding his fingers through his hair softly. Akaashi smiles into his chest, turning his head to try to hide his blush from Koutarou. He knows it doesn’t work, but Bokuto doesn’t mention it. He only grins wider.

There’s a tentative silence between them, comfortable and warm. Akaashi feels his head lift as Bokuto takes a breath to speak, “I love you a lot, Keiji.”

Akaashi flushes deeper than before, bringing his hand up from the grass to cover his face and his uncontrollable smile. “I love you a lot too, Koutarou,” he manages to squeeze out before he starts laughing.

Bokuto’s outright beaming by now, and he sits up, gathering Akaashi in his arms tightly. There are stars in his eyes and sunlight glinting off his teeth, and Akaashi decides that Bokuto is positively ethereal. “I’m really glad you came here, Keiji. I’m pretty sure you’re an angel,” Bokuto declares, voice so full of love that Akaashi almost can’t stand it.

“I don’t know about me, but I’ve known you were an angel since the beginning,” Akaashi says. He tells himself he really needs to shut up with all of these cheesy declarations, but he can’t seem to help it when Bokuto looks at him with those sparkling eyes. He shies under the look, knocking their foreheads together gently. “Stop looking at me like that.”

He doesn’t mean it.

Bokuto doesn’t stop.

Akaashi understands well now why their group is called the Lost Boys. Even in the weeks following his conversation with Bokuto, there’s still some sort of emptiness in his chest, a yearning for something he can’t name or a place he’s never been. Looking at Bokuto, that hollow eases and shrinks, but it’s never quite gone. He’s not sure if he’ll ever stop being “lost,” but being lost together with family is infinitely better than being lost alone.

And that’s what these kids have become, Akaashi realizes. They’re not just friends. They’re truly family, boys he’d do just about anything for, people he loves.

He’s home.

He may be a Lost Boy, but Akaashi’s found a true home in these woods, and he wouldn’t trade it for the world.