Chapter Text
The day Oikawa had turned 11, he had spent almost all of it flitting between his birthday party and the front door, anxiously awaiting a letter that would determine if he had inherited either of his parents magic. His mother, father, and older sister had all attended Mahoutokoro, and Oikawa was deadset upon following in their footsteps. A pureblood, he knew there had to be a letter somewhere, it was just taking a long time to come to him! It would be here by the end of the day!
Oikawa Tooru, 11 years old, dragged himself to bed in tears.
Oikawa Tooru, 11 years and 1 week old, screeches in excitement and runs barefoot in pyjamas all the way to Hanamaki and Matsukawa’s houses to shove a Mahoutokoro letter in their faces.
Towards the end of January, another one of his friends, Hanamaki, proudly displays his own acceptance letter when the three meet up at Oikawa’s for a sleepover. Hanamaki is a half-blood, his mother a powerful and well-known user of magic. Perhaps even Legendary status. So it’s not surprising he has an invite too. At the very least, Oikawa is ecstatic to know he’ll have a friend there.
Matsukawa sighs, because his birthday isn’t until March, and Mahoutokoro starts in April, just like any other Japanese school. Just… With magic and wands instead of backpacks and pens. The other two reassure him, and Matsukawa shrugs before stating he doesn’t mind either way, since both options are too much work.
He’s much more enthusiastic come March when his own rose-golden acceptance letter arrives at precisely midnight when he turns 11. Together, the three friends and their parents prepare for Mahoutokoro the best they can.
The day comes, in April, when they join a crowd in the southern isle of Okinawa and are led towards a secret cave, hidden by magic and sheltering Giant Storm Petrels - a whole flock! Hanamaki is a little nervous about flying on a giant bird over an entire ocean with no experience and a brief five minute explanation of how to control the bird, so Matsukawa shares with him, Hanamaki clinging around his waist with eyes closed and murmuring “I don’t want to die.” over and over again.
It’s only when they land on Iwo Jima that Oikawa sees one lone boy, sitting away from the crowd on a rock, almost as if he’s invisible. It makes sense that he'd be invisible from the rest of the crowd. He's wedged right in there, at an angle on Oikawa's little trio would be able to see.
He has something white in his hands - a folded robe, Oikawa thinks. But they won’t receive their robes until inside, so how does this mysterious boy have one?
“Makki, Mattsun? You can see him too, right?”
“See who?”
“The boy over there! With- With the black hair, on the rock!” Matsukawa and Hanamaki exchange a worried glance.
“Oikawa… Do you need an eye-test?”
“Yeah, I mean… Either that or you weren’t listening to the teachers on the way over.” At Hanamaki’s teasing accusation, Oikawa sticks his tongue out and looks away with a small blush, proving that he wasn’t listening at all. Matsukawa sighs and makes sure Oikawa is looking at him before he speaks.
“This is the southern tip of Iwo Jima. We’ll have to climb the side of the volcano and pass through a barrier before we see Mahoutokoro, but the white robe on the rocks is proof enough we’re in the right place.” Oikawa tilts his head in confusion, eyebrows furrowing.
“But it’s not on the rocks. It’s in that boy’s lap! He look about our age, actually.” Matsukawa and Hanamaki look over, and to their surprise, they too, can see the boy.
“... Holy shit.”
“Is this some kind of bad omen?” As they speak, the boy looks up, green eyes meeting theirs and a tired expression melting into startled shock. His hand stills from brushing over the white robe and he blatantly stares. Oikawa smiles kindly and waves, unsure of why he can hear Hanamaki gulp and Matsukawa stop breathing.
“We’re gonna die.”
“We’re cursed.” Oikawa turns on them with a slight snarl, annoyed at the way Matsukawa and Hanamaki are treating the stranger, who is probably rather lonely, sitting on his own that far from anyone else.
“Will you two stop?!” Matsukawa grabs his shoulders and forces him to make eye-contact, concern and anger leaking into his voice.
“Oikawa, the white robes are left here as a reminder that disgraceful students will be pointed out and most likely expelled, or even executed! There’s only seven of them, and the first one is on that rock with-!” He breaks off with wide eyes as he looks up, just over Oikawa’s shoulder. Hanamaki is pale and trembling. Confused, Oikawa turns around and is met with green eyes and a face painted with nervousness.
“It’s not my robe, if- if that’s what you’re wandering. And- And I’m not a ghost.”
“Then why were you holding it like that…?” The boy shuffles with a small shrug, lowering his voice and wringing his hands together as he dips his head.
“Was my dad’s. Only thing left of him.” Guiltily, Hanamaki rubs the back of his head whilst Matsukawa bites his lip as he tries to think out an apology worthy enough. Oikawa, on the other hand, has no such restraint.
“What do you mean only thing left?” Hanamaki tackles him and covers Oikawa’s mouth whilst Matsukawa turns to scold him.
“Oikawa! Sorry, sorry! Just ignore him!” Much to their surprise, the boy just laughs. It’s a deep, warm laugh.
“No problem, I don’t mind. He- Uh- After being expelled, he came home and tried to prove magic to the world. Um… He was, quite literally, roasted to death. As in; Kōchōsensei had to fight him in the middle of the street and it ended up with a huge fireball fight… Newspapers covered it as a methane explosion.”
“In the middle of the street?”
“Yeah. Most people died as a result of the conflict.” Hanamaki’s thin brows are furrowed and his face is pinched with distressed thought.
“I remember reading about that. Five years ago, right?” The boy nods and Hanamaki’s eyes widen.
“You’re Iwaizumi Hajime. You- You were one of the only two who survived, weren’t you?!” A hand slaps across his mouth and he’s met with a fierce green glare. For an 11 year old, it’s an incredibly intense glare.
“Keep it down! I’m trying to keep it low-key!” Hanamaki nods and Iwaizumi sighs with relief before removing his hand.
“You do know the sorting hat is gonna call your name out though, right?” Iwaizumi turns to Matsukawa, face paling and a frantic look in his eyes. Obviously, he didn’t. A weight on his back almost knocks Iwaizumi off his feet but he manages to steady himself against it, although he does noticeably wince. The weight - Oikawa - drapes quite happily over Iwaizumi’s back.
“Then we just need to make sure you have a nickname it can call you!”
“A… Nickname?”
“Yes, a nickname. You know what that is, don’t you silly?” Iwaizumi huffs and gently swats at Oikawa like a pesky fly until he stops leaning his full weight against the shorter.
“Of course I know what it is. I’m not stupid.” Oikawa stares at Iwaizumi in thought even as Iwaizumi sinks into a scowl at the mischief sparkling in Oikawa’s eyes.
“Iwa-chan.”
“What? No.”
“Iwa-chan!”
“No.” Matsukawa and Hanamaki share a smirk before they both chime in, chanting it over and over again in a sing-song voice as Oikawa puffs his chest out proudly. People are starting to look over, and Iwaizumi shrinks under the unwanted attention. What if they work out who he is?
“Fine, fine! You can call me Iwa-chan… Just shh!” When the other three cheer and high-five each other, Iwaizumi can’t help feeling like he, at 11 years old, has just made his first friends.