Archive of Our Own

The first time her son asks to bring a friend home, Tsukishima Usagi nearly cries.

From the start Kei was a challenge, more than Akiteru ever was. He headbutted her in the ribs hard enough they bruised; gave her morning sickness so frequently that the enamel on her teeth thinned enough that she had to brush three times a day with a prescribed toothpaste; curled up on himself so tight at every ultrasound that they couldn’t have a gender reveal party because they didn’t actually know, and getting the genetic testing done was too much trouble. Contrarian little bastard. Had the decency to announce himself, at the least: she dreamt of a field full of fireflies for weeks leading up to that first pregnancy test. And it was nice to get the opportunity to schedule his birth at noon instead of having her water break at two in the morning. The genuine surprise that came with the doctor announcing “It’s a boy!” was something Usagi hasn’t experienced since.

Akiteru was overjoyed. That photo of her boys together for the first time is one of her favorites: Akiteru’s got his gap-toothed smile aimed directly at his baby brother, who’s swaddled tightly in a moon-patterned blanket and squinting up at Akiteru with a stubborn expression. Mamoru’s hands are hovering just barely in frame, ensuring a steady hold. It took only three days of being back from the hospital for Akiteru to march into her room and demand that they give the baby back. Usagi can’t really blame the kid. Akiteru was six and didn’t understand why his little brother cried so much. She didn’t understand why Kei cried so much. After countless sleepless nights and more doctor’s appointments than she could count on two hands, it turned out Usagi just happened to be blessed with a colicky baby: for the next five months Akiteru spent weekends with his grandparents. Usagi’s sketchbooks were filled with sharp angles and unsteady lines for most of that time.

The first time that Kei had slept through the night, she’d woken up in a cold sweat and watched vigil over his crib until sunlight started to come in through the slats in the blinds.

So, yeah. Kei was a fussy infant who grew into a fussy toddler with a soft spot for dinosaurs, who grew into a young child with a soft spot for dinosaurs, reading habits more advanced than his brother, and a propensity to correct people. The only person he wouldn’t correct was Akiteru and even that seemed to come at great physical pain to him, based on the way that his face would scrunch up. Kei’s always right every time he corrects someone, which makes Usagi swell with pride even if it does make his life harder. The other kids call him a know-it-all and he corrects them about that, too, because “No one knows everything”, which is both true and rather humble of him, all things considered.

They never had to force him to do academics like they did Akiteru. Most nights, Mamoru had to pry Kei away from a book to get him ready for bed. When they took him to the optometrist to get him fitted for glasses, he didn’t throw a tantrum like she did when she was a kid. He did as he was told, asked the optometrist how to pronounce amblyopia, then asked his dad when they could leave. He gets a little worked up when they have to stay to pick out frames, mostly because his face is still too round for wire frames to look anything but silly and he complains about the weight of the thicker, heavy-duty frames built for kids who walk themselves into walls. He’s wonderful and smart and witty and when Usagi accompanied him to the first real birthday party he was invited to— toddler birthdays didn’t count, they’re more for parents than they are for the actual kids— she sat to the side. Chatted with the other parents. Watched out of the corner of her eye as Kei did what he always did: engaged on his own terms, corrected when someone was wrong, tactfully retreated to her side and said he was ready to leave once he was done with the other kids. If she wasn’t talking about her five year old Usagi might’ve called him an asshole.

He got along well with Akiteru’s teammates, at the very least, preened under their attention and eyed the volleyball with keen interest whenever they played. And, all things considered, there are a lot worse problems to have than a kid who doesn’t like to talk about his emotions. She hadn’t liked to talk about her emotions until she met Mamoru. Life’s a marathon, not a race, and Kei’s got a whole lifetime ahead of him.

Slowly, Usagi stops getting sent birthday invitations. She lets it go at first, because he's not really that age where you invite the whole class to the party, but when it's her turn to pick Kei up from school the other parents fall silent as she approaches. Mamoru confirms that they do the same to him. There’s one mom— Ei…something. Eiko? Emi? Whatever. Doesn’t matter. She bumps Usagi with her cart at the grocery store and there’s a Godzilla-themed cake rattling around happily in the basket, a big number 7 piped in icing, impersonating the flames from the kaiju’s mouth. The mom laughs and smiles and offers advice on how to pick the best watermelon before faking a phone call and scuttling away. Usagi will ask about the parties sometimes, make little passive-aggressive comments just to watch the parents squirm and struggle to come up with any sort of reasonable explanation. The kids she can handle: kids are cliquey and selfish to a fault, and Usagi bets that a decent amount of them still aren’t able to tie their own shoes. That’s fine. They’re still learning. Adults know better and are cruel anyway.

And because she is a selfish thing, Usagi steals Kei away from school for a long weekend that’s full of dinosaurs and reading and an expensive slice of strawberry shortcake from a high-end bakery. It soothes the fire in her belly enough that her smiles to the other parents are pretty genuine. She even takes a commission from one of them. It doesn’t last, though. A fire improperly suffocated only ever comes back stronger but she knows better than to blow up Kei’s relationships for him.

She’s in her studio mapping out the rough planes of her next sculpture in miniature when Kei comes to her. Keeping work out of the house is preferable but she just can’t get the face right, and the commissioners are kind but they’re intensely particular. Kei knocks and hovers in the doorframe until she beckons him in. He’s fidgeting with his fingers, picking at the hangnail of his left thumb that’s already obnoxiously red and irritated. When he looks at her he doesn’t really look at her, gaze settling somewhere near her left earlobe.

“What’s up?” she asks as she takes one last pinch of clay off the cheek of her model, leaning back in her chair.

“Are we doing anything tomorrow?”

Akiteru has practice. The electric bill is usually mailed around this time of the month. Nothing else comes to mind. “Don’t think so.”

Kei nods, almost to himself, and finally manages to twist off that pesky hangnail. Blood immediately starts to bead in the crease where the nail meets skin and his eyes finally zero in on hers. They’re bright, burning, determined things.

“If we’re not doing anything, could someone come over?”

It’s only due to years of practice that Usagi’s able to school her expression into something that doesn’t involve her jaw hanging halfway to the floor. Kei’s eyes skip from hers back to the silver moon dangling from her ear, watching it sway as he rubs at his knuckles.

“Of course, hun. This gonna be right after school or do you want some time to yourself first?”

Some of the tension in his shoulders eases and Kei tucks his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “I dunno.”

“Either way, let your dad know, he’ll be home before me tomorrow. And make sure you clean your room,” Usagi instructs, wiping her hands on a nearby towel. It gets most of the clay-gunk off but she’ll need the scrubber to get under her nails.

“It’s not dirty.”

The corner of her mouth quirks up. “Humor me.”

“You look humored enough.”

That’s enough to shoo away the rest of her surprise and Usagi laughs, bright and clear; she reaches out and rustles her son’s hair. Kei squawks indignantly and makes a tactical retreat down the hall and into his room. Usagi scrawls herself a reminder to have Mamoru check on him in a few hours, and it’s only after she’s set the pen down that she notices her hands are shaking. There’s an itching-burning feeling building at her waterline. Her whole face is uncomfortably hot. She thinks about Kei, who’s probably organizing the statuettes of dinosaurs on the shelf by his bed right now because keeping them clean is the most important part of his routine. They’ve been sorted chronologically for the past few weeks but he’s been doing a lot of reading on the different genera. Thinking about that only makes her eyes hurt even more. Usagi clenches her jaw, presses the heels of her palms against her eyes until patterns start to dance on the back of her eyelids.

This is only a big deal if she makes it a big deal. If she makes it a big deal Kei is going to hate it and never ask for anything again, because that boy is damn near allergic to attention. When he was a toddler they’d taken him out for dinner and when the waitress asked him what he wanted to eat he’d hidden under the table. Usagi heaves herself out of her chair and fiddles with her music for a little bit— she really needs to get a new CD player, this one keeps on skipping— and forces her attention back to the statuette.

Dinner is lovely, katsudon bowls that Usagi nearly chokes on because she’s eating so fast. Akiteru isn’t harassing Kei about his new friend so he probably doesn’t know yet. The boys help with the dishes as she packs up the leftovers and Usagi works her hardest to not let it show on her face just how goddamn stressed she is. She isn’t too sure if it works. They gather up on the couch to watch some sitcom that no one really watches but Mamoru, though Kei is paying enough attention to the plot of the episode to critique it whenever he looks up from his book. Usagi sketches absentmindedly and gnaws on her bottom lip until she starts to taste blood. When she crawls into bed, Mamoru knows because he always knows, so he dog-ears the book he’s reading and talks her through his day. He mentions all the same stories and tells all the same jokes that he made over dinner, and when he runs out of stories to tell he recounts the plot of the book he was reading. It’s an old sci-fi thing that he’s owned since before they were even dating and Usagi’s never read it herself but she knows everything about it anyway. She rolls over to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth and mumble an apology into his hair. Mamoru laughs and says that her expectations are more for her than anyone else; he’s lucky she’s so comfortable or else she totally would’ve elbowed him for that.

For the first time since her pregnancy, she dreams of the firefly field. Wading across the waist-high grass the fireflies dance all around her. They’re gentle and fleeting and crawl over her knuckles for a scant few moments before taking flight. When one leaves, another lands.

After she takes the kids to school, Usagi spends the whole of the day in her studio downtown. She plays the records she collected back in college and pretends she’s still there, young and stupid with uneven bangs and no time for anything that wasn’t her art. She orders takeout for lunch and the owner hand-delivers it because he’s just like that; her isolation works the way she needs it to and her clients are satisfied with the progress update. Usagi’s so lost in the achey-buzzy exhaustion of the day and the dehydration headache that’s built up in her skull that it isn’t until she toes off her shoes that she remembers.

There’s an unfamiliar set of sneakers sitting next to Kei’s. Smaller than his by what looks like three or four sizes, with dark soil packed into the undersides. Usagi takes one long breath in through her nose, holds it for a count of five, and releases the breath. No time to dawdle: it’s her turn to make dinner tonight. Prep is mind-numbingly monotonous. She hears Mamoru open the door to Kei’s room no less than four times, even when she strains her ears the only voice she ever hears talking back is Kei’s. She pretends to care about the talk show on the radio and keeps working even when she hears Kei’s door swing open and the scuffle of gentle footsteps. They get louder and louder until they’re right behind her.

Usagi turns and looks down at the boy. He’s a little squirt of a kid— shorter than Kei, but most kids are— with dark hair and dark eyes and so much nervous energy that it feels like he’s going to trip out of his skin. Freckles are scattered all over his face. As she watches, the tension in him multiplies tenfold. His posture goes so ramrod straight that he gains about an inch. Usagi’s seen mice that are less scared of her. Curiously, he maintains eye contact.

“Thank you for having me over, Tsukishima-san. I’m Yamaguchi Tadashi and it’s very nice to meet you,” the boy squeaks out, falling into a sharp bow. He holds it for about four seconds before being dragged up by the collar of his shirt by Kei, who looks very unimpressed.

“It’s just my mom. You don’t have to be so weird about it.”

“Sorry, Tsukki!”

Oh god. Dear sweet baby Jesus. It takes all the willpower in her body for Usagi not to coo at the nickname.

“It’s nice to meet you too, Yamaguchi. I hope you had a nice time.”

“I did!” Yamaguchi smiles and some of the tension is released from his shoulders. “I really should be going now though, so… have a nice night. Thank you.” He bows again and flits off towards the entryway, where he slips on his shoes and slips out of the house quietly, as if he had never been there at all.

Everyone tells you not to compare your kids. That’s like, parenting 101. True with art, too; back in her second year of uni Usagi had the worst art block of her life. Her drawing professor had called it “the sophomore slump” with a knowing glint in his eye when she asked for help, and during evaluations he told her she was too caught up on her past works and trying to live up to them. That weekend she drove out to a campsite in the mountains, threw every piece she’d done her first year onto the fire and made s’mores over it. Can’t do that with kids, though: you live with the choices you’ve made. No way out or around, gotta go through. But it’s hard not to notice catalog patterns, especially when Akiteru was always so magnetic and Kei was… non-ferrous, if you want to get scientific with it. He never let himself get swept up and no one ever got swept up in him. Not until Yamaguchi.

Yamaguchi follows, for a long time. He always comes over to their house and watches what Kei puts on and hovers a half-step behind him, chirping out “Sorry, Tsukki!” nearly every other sentence. He’ll pop up onto his tippy-toes to whisper something in Kei’s ear and Kei actually laughs. But when winter melts away and blossoms into spring, Kei informs her that he’s been invited over to the Yamaguchi residence for the first time. He doesn’t ask if he can go so she pulls the big bad mom card and yanks the duvet off his bed, telling him to be ready in twenty minutes if he wants breakfast.

“Why do I have to go?”

A delicate thing, navigating words like have to. “Do you not want to spend time with him?”

“I didn’t say that. Why couldn’t we just hang out here?”

“Did you ask Yamaguchi that?”

Kei opts to turn back to his breakfast instead of answering. Usagi hides her smile and finishes packing her bag. It's just a few blocks to the address they were given so they walk, and when Yamaguchi sees them he’s all smiles and is dragging Kei away by the wrist before Usagi can even say hello.

Yamaguchi Harumi is more diplomatic than her son, but not by much. This isn’t the first time they’ve met but it’s the first Usagi’s heard of the other woman’s name. She’s amicable and pleasantly chatty and before she knows what’s really going on Usagi is on her butt in the woman’s flowerbed yanking at weeds. The younger Yamaguchi seems to be having just as much fun as his mother is, his voice bright and chirpy and his pile of dandelions piling steadily higher. He smiles wide and she learns that he’s got dimples. Usagi doesn’t think she’s seen Kei look more uncomfortable in his life. Including the time that he got stuck listening to his uncle talk about his high school days for the entirety of Christmas dinner. He’s perched up on his toes but somehow still squatting, balancing precariously so that his shoes are the only point of contact he has with the dirt.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Kei. It’s nice to finally meet you,” Harumi says, and her son makes a sound like he’s choking on his own spit. “You’ve got an older brother, don’t ya?”

And well, that’s enough to get Kei talking. He doesn’t help much until Harumi passes him a pair of gardening gloves that are way too big on him, showing him how to pinch at the base of the stem to pull out the weeds without snapping them in half. Even then he’s too busy explaining the difference between the periods of the Mesozoic Era to focus on the weeds. A few hours later the sun has dipped low in the sky, Harumi invites them in for drinks and snacks; the boys disappear into Yamaguchi’s room after Harumi watches them drink two full glasses of water each.

Harumi’s a pro at peeling tangerines in one long spiral, and she shares one with Usagi as they chat about nothing in particular. Usagi lets her eyes wander towards the plants propagating on the windowsill, counts the pale freckles dotted across Harumi’s nose, studies the pictures pinned to the fridge. Everything about the place is so… cozy. Reliable and worn like it’s been loved for a long time. It all makes something in Usagi’s stomach lurch.

Harumi is sturdy and steady and kind and Usagi’s not so arrogant as to deny the fact that she can learn new things. Gardening is one of those hobbies she always told herself she would get into. Might not be so bad to have a teacher. They exchange phone numbers and Kei’s so tired on the way back that he keeps tripping over his own feet. It’s kinda sweet.

Summer’s scorching heat is enough to melt away what remains of Yamaguchi’s cageyness around her. He’s still pretty spineless around Mamoru— which everyone in the family finds pretty funny, because like, come on. He cried before she did at their wedding; his favorite animals are parakeets, for crying out loud. But you know, baby steps and all that. Yamaguchi stops shying away from Akiteru’s noogies, stops hiding his laughter behind his hand, joins in on the seed-spitting contests they have on the back porch. Stuff like that. He’ll run off with Akiteru and Kei to go play volleyball and while her kids bicker over who gets the first turn in front of the fan Yamaguchi will steal the spot and get a twice-long turn of his own. Usagi texts Harumi more than her own husband, mostly because Yamaguchi spends most of his time with the Tsukishimas because both of his mothers are working. And since she’s technically unemployed between commissions, there’s no point in having the Yamaguchis pay for a summer camp that he’s gonna hate anyway. Ai makes her black sesame cookies as a thank you and if Usagi eats them all in her car so she doesn’t have to share… well. That’s not anyone’s business but her own.

If something really good crosses her desk, though, she’ll load up her dinky little minifridge with as many popsicles it can hold and bring the kids to the studio with her. They don't really care. They mostly just play a lot of volleyball.

Kei responds in kind to Yamaguchi's comfort. He’s the first to propose the idea of a sleepover, even if it was out of practicality; doesn’t complain whenever Yamaguchi cowers in his shoulder when the T-rex comes on screen while they’re watching Jurassic Park; goes outside to watch the stars and catch fireflies when Yamaguchi asks, even though its cold and he has to wash his feet when he comes back inside. Yamaguchi laughs at him once— too long outside without sunscreen earned Kei a nasty sunburn, while all Yamaguchi got was a deep tan and a healthy blessing of new freckles— and all Kei did was grumble out a “Shut up, Yamaguchi” and demand another popsicle.

School starts up again and Usagi doesn’t have time to worry about things that aren’t her upcoming exhibition and how their grocery hauls are going to need to keep getting bigger if Akiteru keeps eating the way he has been. She did the math once to see how much time he spends at practice in one week and had been so appalled by the answer that she’d genuinely considered staging an intervention. But. That’s what passion is all about. So she puffs out her chest, readies her wallet, and makes Mamoru ask about his grades a little less.

What’s that English saying? The calm before the storm? Yeah. Should’ve known. Twenty years ago she would’ve packed up the shit she needed and burned the rest of it to the ground, but nowadays she needs to be the type of person to pick up the pieces.

Kei doesn’t want to talk to her about it. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone about anything. Hides away in his room the moment he gets back from school and volleyball practice, takes dinner in his room, that sort of thing. She and Mamoru agree that space is good for a little while but there gets to a point with these sorts of things.

One of her favorite facts about dinosaurs is that the T-rex was actually very slow. Maybe… 4 or 5 kph realistically due to the sheer weight of their own bodies, but they were pursuit predators that could go for hours. She buys strawberry shortcake and waits for Kei to get back, sketching his room while she waits. The cake is a bribe that he falls for and Kei sits with her. Usagi thinks of Harumi as she prompts with gentle words and lets her sentences trail off into the open space and all the other kinds of beating around the bush. Kei doesn’t respond to her until she asks point-blank. Kei doesn’t cry. That’s probably the most concerning part. He’s never been much of a crier— Mamoru says he got enough done for a whole lifetime as a baby— but if there ever was a reason to cry, this whole situation would be on the list. His eyes go a little unfocused, sure, but that’s it. No blotchy cheeks or red-rimmed eyes. Just a shrug as he draws a spiral in some of the leftover frosting with his fork.

“It’s lame,” Kei says. “I guess I’d just never seen it before.”

She nods. Swallows. Takes the plate and fork and closes the door behind her as she goes.

Despite his shame Akiteru is easier to talk with. It hangs around him in a noxious cloud and Usagi decides that if they’re going to do this, they’re going to do it right. She pulls a beer out from the back of the fridge, uses an old college trick to get the cap off because she can’t find their bottle opener, and beckons Akiteru to come sit on the back porch with her. He sits but he doesn’t settle and when Usagi catches his eye he pulls back a few centimeters. It’s the same way he looked at her when he was seven and she caught him playing his gameboy under the covers, hours past his bedtime. Abashed, with a tense anticipation lurking just beneath the surface. Resignation to punishment without clarity of what exactly it would be.

Damn kid. She’s not ready for him to start dating— if he hasn’t already and just hasn’t told her. Definitely the type to worry himself sick over impressing the parents and the siblings and the grandparents and the cousins and anyone else he might be introduced to.

“The day you were born was the first time I’d seen my mother in like… six years.”

Akiteru blinks owlishly. “I— seriously?”

“Yep.” Deep breath in, deep breath out. “We’d gotten into a big fight about school stuff. I was set on going to this fancy private art school, worked my ass off to get into it: paid for prep school classes, snuck into the uni to see what the students were up to. That type of shit. Grandma thought it was a waste. Can’t really blame her— I wasn’t the dedicated type, yeah? Thought it would be another phase and I would drop and she’d be out the money for no reason. Plus like, art school? Hard sell to your grandfather. He was the traditional type. Hardcore. I think God sent me to him as a punishment for something he did in a past life.”

That earns her a mild chuckle. Usagi takes a swig of her beer instead of literally patting herself on the back.

“It was her practicality talking but I thought she just didn’t believe in me. I let it drop and the day after I graduated from high school I left; packed a bag and moved in with some girls I’d met through a friend of a friend, went to school and never looked back. She’d never met your dad. I didn’t invite her to our wedding.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, I know. Real dramatic. But, yeah. I was a complete mess after you were born. The birth itself was fine— perfect for a first-timer, I was told— but that just made it worse. We knew you were coming, obviously, and you were planned.” Akiteru pulls a face. “I wanted you. I knew my life was going to be different, duh, but there’s a difference between knowing and having reality right there in front of you. And you know your dad, he’s got a sixth sense for that shit; he wouldn’t stop pushing it but I just lied to him and told him I was fine.”

Akiteru shifts and glances over his shoulder towards the house.

“If I let you have the rest of this will you let me finish without interrupting?” Usagi raises the bottle in her hand.

“I didn’t—”

“Aki, I know you’re not the type. I just mean you need to enjoy the journey a little bit more. I promise you there’s a point to the end of this.”

“Okay. Sorry.”

Rolling her eyes, Usagi swats at his shoulder. “Shush. Now— your dad was just as stressed as I was, I think he was expecting me to reveal the baby wasn’t his or something. But, somehow, he’d managed to track my mom down. He didn’t even know her name. Barely knew about my relationship with her, just some stuff I'd said when I was drunk. I made all my extended family swear to secrecy they wouldn’t tell him a single thing about either of my parents. He said it was through like… checks from my old bank cross-referenced with the phonebook that he found her, when I asked a few years later.”

Usagi brings the bottle to her lips and drains what’s left. “She came into that hospital room and didn’t even look at you. She pulled up a chair and held my hand and asked to do my hair. Like nothing had changed.”

Akiteru bites his lip.

“Doesn’t seem like a big deal, I know. But we had this old kimono, family heirloom thing. Really nice. It belonged to her grandma’s grandma or something. She adored it. The night I left, I cut it to ribbons and left it on the lawn.” She forces down the lump in her throat. “I did it to hurt her. No other reason.”

“Mom…”

“I destroyed something irreplaceable because she loved it. Blew up our relationship for a school that… absolutely wasn’t worth it. All because I thought she didn’t trust me enough or love me enough. I’ve come to peace with the fact that I’m never going to get over the guilt. After that hospital visit it still took years for us to get somewhat stable.” Usagi clears her throat. Swipes at her eyes. “You hurt Kei by lying to him. That is a fact. Things are going to be different, and it’s his call where you two go from here. You gave up the right to decide that. Your dad and I are going to keep things civil between you, but that’s it.”

“Okay. That’s fair.”

“You lied to Kei because you wanted to protect him and his belief in you. Intention won’t fix everything, of course, but I’ve done way worse than you and still been forgiven. It feels like the end of the world because you care, so don’t convince yourself you’re some horrible monster. You’re not. If you want a monster, I’ll tell you some more stories.”

“You’re not—”

“Exactly. And I will always be worse than you, so shut up.”

When Akiteru laughs he seems to startle himself with it. Mission accomplished.

The change is predictable, but that doesn’t make it any easier to watch. Kei… looks so much older than he did before; he’s always stood head and shoulders over his classmates and the near-permanent scowl on his face makes him look more and more like a middle schooler every day. If she was a bit more poetic Usagi is sure she could come up with some proverb about the innocence of youth. He talks even less than he did before, and when he does it’s usually to snap or sneer or correct someone. That someone usually ends up being Yamaguchi. Decidedly, the worst of the changes is the apathy. Aloofness, indifference, whatever you want to call it. He’s living life going through the motions and he’s barely hit double digits, for crying out loud. She knows her son, she knows she can’t hide anything from him if he’s looking for it. He and Akiteru used to make a game of it: guessing what their Christmas presents were and where they were hidden from her expression alone. After the third year in a row finding the stash she’d started pack-ratting presents at her in-laws place. Usagi knows he notices. He stops looking.

It pisses her off. Brings out something in her she thought she left behind a long time ago— she wants to scream until her throat is raw, wants to hit something until it breaks and if she can’t break it maybe she’ll be the one to shatter instead. Usagi does none of those things. Instead she visits her mother for a weekend and cries her eyes out, hot and angry and vicious; stays up to watch the sun rise over the craggy horizon. Her mother runs a comb through her hair and says that you can’t make someone care more than they want to. It’s true, of course, but it doesn’t make it any easier to stomach.

Yamaguchi’s skittishness is back again, and while it’s not near as bad as it once was, it's still a change that makes something in her stomach go a little sour. Usagi finds him just… staring at his reflection in the bathroom one night at like two in the morning. After a brief mental debate she approaches slowly, tapping her knuckles on the doorframe. Poor kid startles so badly that he falls off the stepstool and nearly smacks his head on the countertop. She had to buy that stepstool for him. No one in her family has needed one for years.

“I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t know anyone else was awake.”

“It’s fine, kid.” Her eyes skim over Yamaguchi’s face. “Do you wanna go home? It's okay if you do. I know Kei has been kind of… a lot, lately.”

“What? No! I just couldn't sleep is all.” It doesn’t sound like much of a lie, on the surface, but Ai once told her that Yamaguchi fell asleep at The Lion King musical. Like, the one that’s in-person. Mamoru had once called Harumi in a panic because he'd slept for 14 hours straight after a movie marathon with Kei and no one could wake him up.

“Want me to call your moms? School’s out tomorrow, you can always come back over for breakfast if you want. Might be nice to get some time in your own bed.”

“I like it here, Tsukishima-san. I really do.”

“Didn’t ask if you liked it. I know that you do. I asked if you wanted to go home.”

A tendon in Yamaguchi’s neck flexes. “I can’t leave. Tsukki always wakes up before me. He’ll know I left.”

“He’ll get over it, Yamaguchi.”

“I made a promise to stay with him. Even… even if he doesn’t value it the same way I do, I can’t go back on that. Tsukki needs me right now.” Yamaguchi’s eyes bore into hers. Flinty.

Her eyes are starting to sting. Come on, Usagi, you’re cooler than this. “Thank you, sweetheart. For being his friend.”

“What else would I be?” The fire in his eyes has abruptly extinguished. He says it so offhandedly. Like Tadashi is telling her the color of the sky or commenting on the weather. Like a life without Kei would be as odd as purple grass or a world without gravity. Harumi confessed to her once that she worried she had been a bit too ambitious with Tadashi’s name. Tadashi shares a birthday with Hachiko and she’d always thought it was a beautiful story, apparently. Tadashi meant loyalty. Harumi had been kind of tipsy, so Usagi seriously doubts it was anything more than an anxious rambling about undue pressure and all that.

Kei isn’t very firefly-like at all. He could stand to learn a thing or two from his best friend about living up to his namesake.

“Got me there. C’mon, kid, we both should be heading to bed.”

Tadashi skitters down the hall and is absorbed into the shadows; Usagi hears a muffled thump as if he’s missed the handle, followed by the slight creak of the door.

Maybe she didn’t notice it before because she was just too focused on the wrong things but when Usagi watches them the next morning she doesn’t see a bitter, agitated Kei. She sees Kei as he always has been: a little dour and a lot sarcastic. Tadashi makes a comment about a boy in their class— something that Usagi isn’t too sure she wants to hear and Kei snorts; Tadashi leans in to whisper something into his ear and Kei’s lips press together in a tight line. Accompanied with the crease between his eyebrows and the scrunch of his nose, anyone else might’ve thought he was upset. But Usagi is his mother goddamnit, even if she really hasn’t been acting like it, because that is what Kei looks like when he’s holding back a smile. She ought to be more embarrassed about it— thinking about perspective is part of her job, though in a much more literal sense than this. Instead, when the boys come over to deposit their plates in the sink Usagi plants a sudsy hand on each of their heads and ruffles their hair as violently as she can muster. Tadashi’s laugh comes bursting out of his throat almost instantly; Kei makes a flustered sort of squawk and tries to escape but doesn’t manage, resigning himself to soapy hair and wet glasses. When she lets them leave they’re whispering amongst themselves and when Kei glances over his shoulder she sticks out her tongue.

His birthday sneaks up on Usagi the way it does every year. Kei’s not much of a help: she asks what he wants to do and gets a shrug in response. She wastes her follow-up question on clarifying what he wants for dinner and he completely ignores her after that. Damn kid. Tadashi is more excited for Kei’s birthday than Kei himself, all toothy grins and fluttery anxiety for the week leading up to it. Day-of, instead of walking together after practice, Usagi catches him sprinting past her house and calling over his shoulder to Kei that he would be back. When Tadashi arrives his hair is still damp from the shower and there’s an envelope held so tightly in his hands it’s a surprise that the paper hasn’t ripped. Ai waltzes into the house after him and presents a box of miniature shortcakes to Kei, who accepts with a stiff nod.

The envelope has a card, and the card has tickets to a traveling exhibit all the way from America visiting the National Museum of Nature and Science in Tokyo. Kei’s eyes positively shine.

“Shut up, Yamaguchi.” There’s no heat to it, and Usagi wonders if she should be worried about the fact that it’s become a bit of a reflex for him. Kei still hasn’t taken his eyes away from the ticket.

“Sorry, Tsukki!”

Usagi takes the tickets from Kei for safekeeping and the boys rush off to do… whatever it is they get up to in Kei’s room. She and Ai sit in the kitchen and work out logistics while Mamoru preps dinner.

Three weeks later, Usagi ships Kei off to Tokyo with stern instructions to behave and thank Ai for taking time off work. Because he’s a little shit, he points out that she owns the business she took time off from. Usagi shuts him up by pressing a hefty spending allowance into his hand and making him promise not to waste it all in one place. Ai overloads her phone with photos and Usagi prints them out and hangs them on her wall because she’s a damn fool. She hears about the experience at dinner every single night for what feels like forever.

Two months later for Tadashi’s birthday, the Yamaguchis get a dog. Kei’s surprisingly happy about it because “There’s no way my gift is going to top that, so I don’t need to worry about it.” He’s distinctly less happy with the fact that the dog is obsessed with his glasses and attempts to tackle him every time he’s around. Lettuce is a cute little bugger, with floppy ears and huge paws and an indiscernible ancestry she and the rest of the parents spend the better part of an afternoon arguing over. Usagi’s never told a reason for the name, either. Tadashi doesn’t even like actual lettuce. Reasonably, the boys decide to teach Lettuce how to play volleyball. They have the competence to wait until he learns more basic things like sit and stay and not peeing in the house— but Kei’s gone most nights until after dark anyway. From what Harumi reports he doesn’t get into it into it the way Tadashi does, but he does take out a few books on dog training from the public library. Usagi’s invited over to see their progress once and it’s… actually pretty impressive. He sets well for not having opposable thumbs. Or hands. And! Lettuce listens to her when she asks him to shake.

Time’s arrow marches steadily forward. It becomes tradition for Harumi and Ai to invite them over to the rink after-hours; watching those two bob and weave around one another will never not be impressive, especially considering the fact that Usagi falls on her ass the moment she gets on the ice. Mamoru guides her around by the hand, failing to hide his teasing smile, and she only feels a little bad whenever her next fall takes him down too. The boys do way better than she does, even with Kei’s stiff posture and unsteady stance because Tadashi is just like his mothers and glides around effortlessly with Lettuce nipping at his heels. That first year, Akiteru whiffs it so hard that he leaves with a mild concussion and a broken wrist.

Kei grows so tall so fast that Usagi gives him painkillers with his breakfast twice a week, because even if he won’t admit it she knows that it hurts. Tadashi gets braces and is significantly more vocal about his pain, but clams up when she announces he’s coming with them on their trip to Okinawa. Usagi is definitely not smug at how much more excited Kei is for their trip, after that. The summer that she and Mamoru spend touring colleges with Akiteru, Kei goes on vacation with the Yamaguchis to Hokkaido. When Akiteru moves into his new place Mamoru cries so it's up to her to be the strict parent, lecturing about not staying out too late and always having his phone on him. It’s not too necessary, considering that it’s Akiteru she’s talking to, but Usagi does it anyway. She presses a kiss to his cheek and warns him: “Don’t do anything I would do!” which gets a laugh, at least, and Usagi ushers her husband out of their son's new apartment before he decides he’s not leaving.

The boys exist in their own little world, endlessly orbiting around one another. They keep playing volleyball in middle school, of course, and it’s more serious than their elementary after-school club but not by much. They outgrow her wit and Usagi doesn’t even mind that much because Kei gets really into music his second year of middle school and she’s able to bribe him with her old record collection. They’re so distractingly independent that Usagi doesn’t even know they’ve done their high school entrance exams until Tadashi’s so anxious waiting for the results that he throws up in her toilet. Twice. Kei comforts in his own way— “We studied for months, if you failed the English section you should just drop out” but still gives Tadashi his soggy fries.

He gets in, of course. They’re even in the same class. Even though she knows it's coming, Usagi sort of misses them around the house when school starts up and it takes more restraint than she’d like to admit to stop herself from interrupting their study sessions. Ugh. She’s getting old. Her kids are growing up. Almost to add insult to injury Akiteru tells her that he’s going to be taking an internship over the break and won't be coming back so Usagi learns how to weld, just for the hell of it. She makes a shoddy, scrappy, unstable-looking crow as one of her first projects and Mamoru insists on displaying it in his office.

Volleyball takes up more time than before, duh, and while Kei doesn’t say much about it she can glean his opinions pretty confidently based on how he reacts to what Tadashi tells her. It’s a pretty self-centered thing to say, but she learns more about Karasuno’s team in a few months than what she knew about the whole middle school team in years with them. Before Karasuno, teammates were vestigial. Kei and Tadashi, together were the only things that seemed to matter to them. Usagi calls it the artist’s eye: focusing only on what you deem important. Nowadays when Tadashi stays for dinner she gets an earful about what the idiot duo argued about today, or how Noya-senpai did two laps of diving drills to burn off energy before even starting practice. There was a Narita that Usagi did a mural for a few years ago, something to brighten up the office where he worked; Ai tells her that she helps coach one of the Sawamura daughters that’s big into skating. Ai also tells her that Tadashi has been practicing extra after-hours at Shimada Mart, because when she asks Kei he puts his headphones on and ignores her. Growing pains are funny things.

It kind of pisses her off, though. Tadashi tries and fails, and gets back up again. Kei never lets himself fall. Doesn’t even let himself anywhere near the edge. It worries her a little, too, some niggling voice in the back of her head warning her what happens when people don’t ever fail. Raising a ghost has never been high on her priority list but it seems like she’s done it by accident. Okay. Deep breath. Baby steps. It’s already a bit of a miracle that Kei texts people that aren’t Tadashi, even if he was forcibly added to the team’s group chat and most of his messages are insults. Kei tells her that he’s been tutoring the “idiot duo” on the volleyball team— complains about it, really— so she presses the back of her hand to his forehead. Odd. He doesn’t feel particularly warm.

Kei brings her a permission slip for the team's week-long summer training camp in Tokyo. When he and Tadashi leave for it, so early in the morning that she hasn’t even gone to bed yet, she kisses each of them on the cheek and waves them off.

Things are different when they come back. Tadashi has settled into his skin a little more. Kei is texting someone that Tadashi tells her isn’t from Karasuno at all. Mamoru wipes away proud tears when he finds out. Akiteru coming back home is a bit of a hiccup in their routine but things work out. Really well, actually, because Akiteru did all that growing up bullshit while he was away. He knows how much to push, nowadays, and the new glasses are just enough. It’s fun to be someone’s partner in crime after such a long time.

The whole town is abuzz with Karasuno’s win against Seijoh and the upcoming match against Shiratorizawa. Usagi carefully, intentionally, doesn’t say anything about it. It’s a big deal because everyone’s making it a big deal and there’s no doubt in her mind that Kei is tired of hearing people talk about it. He doesn’t say anything because he never does but she knows. The same way that she knows something has changed in Kei when he comes back after winning that game. Passion looks good on him.

Usagi’s not going to pretend that she understands sports in any sort of meaningful way. Despite having two sons and an extra who have played volleyball since elementary school, she doesn’t really get it. She’s learned the rules, sure, and seen enough games to be comfortable listing herself in the semi-competent category in explaining what’s going on to an outsider. There’s an aesthetic appeal to seeing all six players together, a well-oiled machine all working towards the same goal. Ai tried to explain her love of skating, one day, and all she could come up with were some choppy hand gestures and the claim that she needs it like she needs to breathe.

It’s her job to observe, and you’d have to be a damn fool not to see the beauty of the trash-heap battle. It’s effort, crystallized. For months afterwards all she can think about are cats and crows.

Second year comes and Usagi meets Kageyama, Hinata, and Yachi properly. The five of them are situated around the Yamaguchi living room, notes scattered everywhere. Lettuce is stretched across Tadashi’s lap, but he’s not the right size dog for that kind of thing anymore, so his head is all the way over on Kei’s thigh and his tail is lazily thumping against Yachi’s foot. Hinata and Kageyama both seem very upset about the fact that the dog is ignoring them. After watching them from the doorway of the kitchen for a few minutes Usagi concludes that the only reason Kei hasn’t strangled the idiot duo is because he doesn’t want to wake Lettuce up. Harumi tells her they’ve been at it for hours as she peels another perfect tangerine.

Usagi introduces herself with a smile, because she sees the perfect chance to throw a little gasoline on the fire. “You kids probably don’t know— don’t let Lettuce anywhere near a volleyball, okay?”

That gets their attention. Kageyama whips his head up from his textbook so fast his neck cracks. “Why?”

“He just gets too excited, is all. The boys taught him when they were younger and now…” she lets her voice trail off and makes some meaningless motions with her hands. Perfectly confusing.

“Yamaguchi! Your dog knows how to play volleyball?!” Hinata’s eyes are practically bugging out of his head.

Tadashi chuckles. “Uh, kinda? If you don’t go crazy fast he can keep up pretty well.”

In the blink of an eye Hinata and Kageyama are streaking out of the house, each with a volleyball in their hands— just keeping them in their school bags, she guesses— and Lettuce streaking after them.

“Auntie…” Tadashi frowns at her, and there’s no reason that a seventeen year old looking at her like a kicked puppy should make Usagi want to pinch his cheeks. “We’re never going to get them back.”

“How horrible,” Kei drawls, not even bothering to look up from his notebook.

“If those two can’t focus around Lettuce it looks like you kids will just have to study at my house,” Usagi sighs forlornly and pointedly ignores how Kei is glaring at her.

“That’s really not necessary, Tsukishima-san!” Yachi insists.

“Don’t even worry about it! Not a bother at all!”

“You can just say you want us to come over, Auntie.”

“I have a reputation to uphold.”

Kei groans while Tadashi and Yachi laugh. They do come over to study a few weeks later, and if Usagi keeps her door cracked to let in the sound of their voices trickle into her office, that’s no one's business but her own. Akiteru stops dancing around that Tanaka girl and having her over for dinner is always a hoot. Tadashi thinks she’s hilarious. Kei despises her in that grumpy little brother way that Usagi finds endlessly charming. She and Mamoru finally pay off the house. Stuff like that. Life keeps moving. It’s not much of a surprise when Tadashi is made captain, but it makes her heart swell anyway. He loses the last of the baby fat from his cheeks and hits his last growth spurt and if he was settled before he’s blossoming now. Usagi nags at both of them to focus on their schoolwork, not because she actually thinks they’ll start slacking but because she never thought there’d be something they care about so much that they might neglect school.

Getting older comes with a healthy dose of irresponsibility, too, which is equally delightful. As captain, Tadashi has the keys to the clubroom and their practice gym, which Hinata and Kageyama are determined to pilfer. They recruit some of the more tenacious second years to help when they can. Kei’s the only one who ever manages to… appropriate the keys for his own purposes, and it’s usually just so he can prove that he can. So when Kei misses his first curfew, it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to deduce where he’s gone. Usagi almost doesn’t notice: the wine she’s been nursing and the heavy rain out the window making this murder-mystery show way more interesting than it has any right to be, but all the weird ads come on after 10PM. She checks her phone. Nothing but a goodnight text from Mamoru; Kei definitely left earlier today and there’s no way she would’ve missed him coming back. The Yamaguchis are out of town, so no dice there. Akiteru and Saeko and Mamoru are out too: they’ve been house hunting and Mamoru requires his stamp of approval before leases are signed. Guy can spot foundation issues and water collection from a kilometer away. Coach Ukai ordered a week-long rest without official practice, too. From what Tadashi tells her the first years Kei has his eyes on for his successors are still too scared of Ukai to go against him like that.

When she calls Kei, it rings until she’s sent to voicemail. The second call has him picking up on the third ring.

“I didn’t realize how late it was. Sorry.” He’s breathing heavily. Steady, but heavy.

“You better clean up that gym and get your sorry butt back here,” she huffs, because it’s easier to puff her chest out and be the nagging, angry mom. “Bring your friends, too. No way they’re going to make it in time for the last train.”

“Okay.” He sounds like he wants to argue, even just for the sake of it.

“Did you guys eat anything?”

“No.”

“Any allergies?”

“Does common sense count?”

“I’ll write it down.” She fishes her laptop out of the couch cushions. “Now pretend like I’m yelling at you and get all quiet and embarrassed at being caught.”

“Seriously?”

“You’re no fun.”

Usagi orders a little bit of everything, charges it to Mamoru’s card so she remembers to tell him this story in the morning, and heaves herself off of the couch. Lettuce dutifully trots after her as she pulls every blanket and pillow not currently in use out of storage and unceremoniously dumps them on the floor of her living room; she leaves a stack of towels by the door and lays a few out on the genkan too, just to be safe. Soon enough there’s four young men standing in her entryway, toweling off their hair looking relatively unphased. Kei takes the first step forward and Usagi stops him with a glare.

“Guests shower first. You can stand there and think about what you’ve done, because there’s no way you’re dripping all over my floors.”

“This whole place smells like wet dog. Lettuce is on the couch.” Because the dog has perfect comedic timing, his head pops up from behind the back of the couch, and he yips excitedly.

“I didn’t raise him.” She looks at the others and registers their faces as vaguely familiar. “We’ve got two bathrooms and you can raid Kei’s closet for sleep clothes. Food’s on the way. Pile up your old stuff once you’re all done and I’ll get it washed for the morning.”

“I didn’t know you had a dog, Tsukki!” The boy with silvery hair pats his thighs and whistles for Lettuce to come over, who does so dutifully.

“Not my dog.”

“Let me guess, Freckles-kun?” the third one teases with a lopsided smirk. Kei pointedly does not answer.

Hm. Interesting.

“Thank you for having us on such short notice, Tsukishima-san,” the other dark-haired one says. He’s got a mild expression and thick eyebrows.

She shrugs. “All good. What are your names, by the way?”

After a brief round of introductions, Bokuto and Akaashi disappear to the showers. Kuroo is trying to get Lettuce’s attention away from Kei and takes it as a personal affront when he can’t. Kei snips back, milder than usual. He doesn’t even grimace when tufts of fur get stuck to his wet hands. Takeout arrives just as Kuroo and Kei have just finished up with their showers and despite being full-blown young adults, all of them look shocked when she proposes eating on the couch.

“As long as you don’t spill I don’t care.” Usagi snatches a wonton from Kei’s plate and pours herself another glass of wine. “Are any of you old enough to drink?”

Bokuto shakes his head. “Nope!”

Kuroo elbows him in the ribs. “C’mon man, don’t ruin a good thing.”

“You’re trying too hard,” Kei grumbles, but there’s a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“There’s nothing wrong with being an enterprising young businessman,” Usagi defends.

“I was talking about you.”

“I’ve got to find some way to keep your friends around.”

The murder-mystery show must have been much better than she originally thought because all four of the boys get sucked into it. Usagi hunts down a place to stream it and they binge the whole first season. She tries to sneak away to her room at the end of the third episode but Bokuto loudly insists that she stay. Kei’s the first to fall asleep, followed by Akaashi, then Bokuto. Kuroo picks up takeout containers from where they’re scattered across the floor and follows her to the kitchen.

Usagi turns her back for like, fifteen seconds, and when she turns back around there’s a waterlogged bill on her counter and Kuroo’s slipping his wallet back into the pocket of his borrowed shorts. Her eyes narrow. “What kind of person do you think I am?”

“It’s just for the food. Bokuto’s a black hole.”

“I’ve got some leftovers about to go bad, you think he’ll want ‘em for breakfast?”

“Probably.”

“Cool.” She slides the bill towards him. “Your consultation fee.”

“Consultations are free.” He pushes it back. Kuroo might be bright, but kids like him are usually respectful first. After about a minute of intensely prolonged eye contact he concedes with a sheepish grin. “You’re sure there’s nothing we can do to pay you back?”

Usagi considers a moment. “I could use a second opinion on something, actually. We’ll deal with it tomorrow. Well. Later today.”

After sleep and breakfast, they take a trip to her studio and Usagi scrambles to clear a path through the debris towards her newest painting. It’s still sketchy and incomplete, loose outlines of crows and cats scattered across the canvas.

“Is this…?” Kuroo is breathless. Kei is completely quiet.

“Trash heap? Yeah.” She rubs the back of her neck. “I’m usually pretty touch and go with concepts but this one has been sticking with me: this is like my fourth version of it.”

Bokuto points. “Tetsu, dude, I think this one is supposed to be you!”

They talk about the different positions and the verticality and what it feels like to be on the court until it’s time for the boys to leave. Usagi gets some pretty good notes out of it, and suggestions from Kuroo about what types of cats his former teammates would be. She and Kei walk them to the station; Kuroo and Bokuto force a hug upon her son but Kei barely even struggles to get out of it. Akaashi says something to him, too quiet to hear over the bustle of the station, and Kei huffs out a laugh.

“How come you never told me about that painting?” he asks on their way back to the house.

Usagi shrugs. “It’s not finished.”

“You said that’s the fourth version of it.”

“I’m not super happy with those. No point in showing off if I’m not satisfied, right?” She shrugs. “You darn kids are pretty inspirational. If I don’t try my best, why try at all?”

“You sound like the idiot duo.”

“I think I sound like Tadashi. His inspirational speeches are pretty good.”

She’s only actually heard one: he invited the whole team to the skating rink a few months back for the purpose of team bonding and exercise without it being actual practice. Usagi has been there to drop off some thumbnails for the mural she and Ai had been planning, and stuck around for an hour or so to chat. It was a short thing, more of a long-winded announcement than a proper speech. When Tadashi spoke everyone turned to listen, and even as his voice echoed off the walls of the rink you could hear his words clearly. She wasn’t even listening, really, the intention was powerful and meaningful and moving all on its own.

Kei doesn’t say anything to that, but he doesn’t need to. Usagi takes the long way home and delights in the scowl she gets out of him when she offers to buy the whole strawberry shortcake from the bakery.

College entrance exams come and go. Kei is characteristically unbothered and Tadashi is equally characteristically nervous about their results. At least he doesn’t throw up this time. The only physical symptom Usagi notices outside of his very vocal catastrophizing is that he’s chewed up the end of at least three pens, all in the span of one afternoon where he and the rest of the third years plan out something volleyball related. Her boys have literally started finishing each other’s sentences, and none of their friends seem particularly concerned by it. She doesn’t say anything because where would that conversation even go, especially with their friends around, but Usagi files that information away for later. Expectations are for her, and no one else. Those boys are old enough to figure things out on their own— if there is anything to figure out in the first place. She has better things to do with her time than worry over her son's love life. Even if she does perk up when Harumi mentions just how many girls have confessed to Tadashi this year. Kei makes no comment on it, if he even knows at all.

Graduation sneaks up on them. Akiteru and Mamoru cry, because of course they do, and Usagi knows her family well enough to have stashed two boxes of tissues in her purse. Mamoru spends countless nights apartment-hunting for the perfect place in between the two universities. Usagi thanks her lucky stars that Tadashi has some kind of sense about him and actually cares for aesthetics, because taking Kei shopping is worse than pulling teeth. Pulling teeth is much easier, actually, because he gets his wisdom teeth out not too long after and the anesthesia doesn’t even make him funny. He’s just sleepy.

Moving is just as horrible as Usagi remembers it. Part of her wishes they’d caved and spent the money for a moving service, but a much bigger part of her knows that she’d never deprive her boys of the quintessential college moving experience. They sit on the floor of Kei and Tadashi’s new kitchen, with only the sound of their own chewing between them all. Ai puts away like, twelve spring rolls by herself. It would be impressive if it wasn’t so nauseating. After dinner they divide and conquer to build as much furniture as possible before the parents have to leave. Usagi never wants to see another Allen key as long as she lives.

Mamoru had already left to go pull the car around in front and pick her up because she married a real gentleman, so Usagi is left with a scant few minutes to herself. She studies herself in the bathroom mirror: the patchy redness to her cheeks and sweat slicking her hair back, the slant of her nose and the small scar running through her left eyebrow. There’s already a smudge of fingerprints along the edges of the mirror. She wonders if the boys will bicker about who has to clean it up, or if they’ll argue about it at all.

A gentle knock draws her attention toward the doorframe where Tadashi is standing. He looks a little bit bashful.

“Mamoru ready?” she guesses.

“Yeah.” His eyes flick towards the mirror. “I should probably wipe that thing down, huh?”

“No rush. I’m just a crazy old lady getting distracted by her reflection.”

“You’re not old!”

“I just moved my youngest into college. That’s old, Tadashi.”

“We’ll agree to disagree.”

She’s quiet for a few moments. Usagi knows she should get going. Let the boys get settled in. Get used to each other being so close; their parents so far away. Childishly, she stays. When she speaks again her voice is more uneven than she would’ve liked.

“I know that he doesn’t need anyone to look out for him. But will you anyway?”

“Of course, Auntie.”

Usagi can’t help herself. She pushes forward into Tadashi’s space and pulls him into a hug. She has to stand on her tip-toes to hook her chin over his shoulder. He hugs back, just as tight.

“Kei better look out for you too. I’ll whoop his ass if he doesn’t.”

Tadashi laughs. Light and airy. Comforting. Usagi breaks away and waves goodbye to Kei, who doesn’t even look up from his phone as he waves back. Mamoru doesn’t ask what took her so long but the twinkle in his eye means he probably knows anyway.

Harumi and Ai take things harder than she and Mamoru do. It makes sense. Because she’s a good friend Usagi takes it upon herself to distract both women the best she can, and Mamoru helps too. Unfortunately, this involves a lot of physical activity. Between the hikes and volunteering at the local plant nursery and taking ice skating lessons, she’s in the best shape of her life. Every now and again Kei will call her to complain; he calls his father for advice. Apparently he’s got Mamoru sworn to secrecy because he’ll distract her with a kiss when she asks what they were talking about. Oh well. There are way worse problems to have.

When the boys visit for the holidays, and as much as she’s trying to keep her nose out of it, Usagi can’t help but notice, that push-pull, leading-follow part of their relationship Usagi thought they outgrew is back. Except unlike all those years ago they’ve started trading off who leads and who follows: Tadashi will grab Kei’s hand and take him lazy loops around the rink, Kei unfurls a blanket over where Tadashi has passed out on the couch. But at dinner one night Akiteru and Saeko announce they’re engaged, and there isn’t much time to worry about anything else.

The boys leave again. It hurts a little more whenever they’re the ones walking away. To distract herself Usagi throws herself wholeheartedly into wedding planning; she even calls up Nakamura, who she hasn’t seriously talked to since university, because his cousin's wedding had florals that Saeko actually likes. She and Mamoru are too busy to come visit for Kei’s birthday and not so ignorant to think that Kei would want to go out drinking at all, not to mention with his parents— so she sends money and makes Kei promise that he would buy at least one drink at a real bar with it.

The line between late night and early morning has blurred significantly when she gets the call. It startles her so badly that Usagi nearly swats the phone off her desk, and only gets more startled when she sees it’s a facetime from Kei. Someone must be dying.

She answers. Obviously.

“Moooooom,” Kei drawls. It takes a moment for her eyes to adjust but he’s holding the phone a little too close to his face, glasses off, hair mussed, looking at her expectantly. The light is too faint to make out where he might be. No obvious signs of injury. Suspicion tingles the back of her neck.

“Hi, hun. How was your birthday?” she asks gently.

“‘Swas good. Auntie won’t answer me.”

“Why are you calling her?”

“Missed her.” Yeah. Suspicions confirmed. Drunk Kei picked a pretty good 2am facetime buddy.

Usagi teases because it’s easy and fun. “I’m hurt! You wanted your aunties before your own mother?”

“‘er name is ‘fore yours. Don’t be mad.” Kei’s face scrunches up, brows drawing together, nose crinkling. It might’ve been mistaken for a scowl if it wasn’t for the way his lower lip wobbled. “Please don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad, sweetheart.”

But the damage has been done. Usagi’s given only a black screen to look at as Kei starts to cry— it’s not funny because your child crying isn’t ever funny, but it makes her laugh anyway. Of course her Kei would be an emotional drunk. Usagi sits there with him and tries not to crack a smile.

After a few minutes another voice comes through on the line, rough with sleep. “Tsukki? What are you… Oh my god, who are you talking to?” Usagi gets mild vertigo as the two fight over the phone. Kei ends up losing, obviously.

“Oh. Hi, Auntie.” Usagi gives a cheery wave. Kei, seeing the movement from where he’s slumped against Tadashi’s shoulder, waves back. “Sorry for waking you. I thought he wasn’t coordinated enough to get into his phone.”

“It’s okay. I was just working.”

“I told you she’d be awake, Tadashi,” Kei’s voice thick with tears, but he gloats anyway.

“Not the point! You need to sleep.”

“I wanna talk to Mom.”

“She’ll be there in the morning.”

“It’s the mornin’ already.”

He’s technically correct. Usagi almost points this out until she sees the withering glare Tadashi is sending his best friend. Kei starts crying again. She’s probably not going to be very helpful in the rest of this situation.

“Tadashi’s right, I’ll talk to you later, Kei. I love you; drink lots of water!” Usagi blows a kiss to the camera and hangs up before he can protest. Setting her phone down, she very carefully does not wipe her eyes because she’s not crying.

The next morning Mamoru wakes her up with breakfast in bed and asks her what’s bothering her. What a perfect man.

Saeko had been determined on a summer wedding and while Usagi’s had been in the spring she has to admit summertime has its appeals. Even so, she tucks two cans of spray deodorant into Mamoru’s pockets because she’ll be damned if anyone even dares to smell at her son’s wedding. It’s exactly what Saeko and Akiteru had been hoping for it to be. Kei even brings some smiles to the happy couple, considering how he physically recoils every time that Ryuunosuke reminds him that they’re related now. Majority of the old Karasuno volleyball team attends. She spies Tadashi talking to someone with that Sawamura jawline; Kei hides out from Ryuunosuke by lurking near the bar with Sugawara; Harumi waves her down to introduce Takeda and Shimada properly. Nishinoya arrives late to the reception with a tie held uselessly in his fist, tripping over his untied shoes and Usagi nearly kicks him out until she notices that Saeko is laughing and coming over for a hug. Delayed flight, apparently. Usagi hands him the deodorant which he accepts graciously.

Usagi knew Akiteru was going to cry at his wedding, and definitely before his wife did. Just the kind of man her son was. What she didn’t know was when it was going to happen. As Kei stands to make his best man’s speech she’s jabbing Mamoru in the ribs and demanding the tissues because there’s no way this is going to end without tears.

It doesn’t. It’s a damn good speech. Mamoru cries too, because of course he does, and Usagi pulls a pack of tissues out of her bra because her dress has no pockets.

Between the brother-sister duo of Ryuunosuke and Saeko, Nishinoya, and the copious amounts of alcohol at this wedding, the dancing is amazing. Usagi manages an hour straight before she has to go sit down and eat something; from her seat she can see the whole venue. Even with all the other volleyball players Kei’s head sticks out above the rest of the crowd; he and Tadashi are still doing that push-pull thing and it’s even more obvious when watching them from afar. One of her sons just got married and the other one is literally dancing around the topic. Whatever. Usagi chugs the rest of her water and drags her husband back onto the dance floor.

The years thunder on. Mamoru’s hair is slowly overtaken with gray, Hinata comes back from Brazil and there’s a clash of the greats volleyball game that Akiteru and Saeko are equally excited about. The boys graduate from college and perhaps unsurprisingly, keep living together. They get a nice place in Sendai and when Usagi visits she idly notices that there’s only one bedroom. Kei doesn’t say anything about it, because of course not, but they have matching lockscreens of each other and Tadashi has emojis next to his contact name in Kei’s phone. Usagi didn’t even know that her son knew how to use emojis.

It’s only a big deal if she makes it a big deal. Plus, she’s a grandmother now, and is wrinkling up to fit the part. Equally important as the human baby is the cat Tadashi picks up off the side of the road.

Usagi teases about how long it took them and Kei’s face flushes bright red while Tadashi laughs. She only does it the once, though, because everyone else in their lives gives them enough shit about it. There were bets placed, apparently. Yachi and Ennoshita split the pot. Those boys always knew they were going to spend their lives together, even if they didn’t understand the specifics of how.

She and Mamoru celebrate 35 years together. Kei gets his master’s, then a doctorate, and Tadashi defends this decision to Akiteru by reminding him that the museum paid for Kei to get both. Akiteru laughs at him anyway, then pesters him about the intricacies of paleohistology because if he has that doctorate he might as well put it to good use.

When her second son tells her that he’s getting married, Tsukishima Usagi does cry, because she’s too old and life is too short not to pretend that she isn’t proud.