Chapter Text
‘Room 313: Oikawa, Kuroo, Sato’, reads the nameplate.
Sato slips the key card into the holder. The door beeps, and Sato walks in.
A small genkan greets him, followed by the expanse of the common area consisting of a living area and a kitchenette. He shuts the door behind him after he drags both his suitcases in and toes off his shoes. He puts them neatly beside a pair of Nike Air Max; one of his roommates has already arrived.
“Hello!” He calls. “Is anybody here?”
Sato gets an immediate reply. “Oh? Are you one of my roommates? I’ll be right there.” A tall, black-haired man emerges from one of the rooms, toweling his hair. His impressive triceps flex with the movement, and water droplets slide down his face and onto his stretched out shirt. He either must have played sports in high school, or is a gym rat, or both.
The man spots Sato and heads over. “Kuroo Tetsurou, I’ll be in your care for this year,” he says with a lopsided smile. Kuroo is pretty good-looking, with his sharp jawline and cat-like eyes that crinkle when he smiles. Sato thinks Kuroo might have been popular in high school.
Regardless of his looks, Kuroo seems friendly and easy to talk to, and Sato finds himself relaxing, his previous worries about bad roommates quelled. “I’m Sato Yuma, I’ll be in your care too.”
Now all that is left is to meet Oikawa.
“Is that all you brought?” Kuroo asks, looking behind Sato as if expecting more than just two suitcases.
“Yeah, for now. My parents will be sending some more stuff over,” Sato says. He gives the room a cursory look; the kitchenette contains a counter, an electric stove, some cupboards, and of course a fridge. Perfect if Sato wants to save money and cook. Their living room contains a sofa for two, a small coffee table and a large dustbin. He doesn’t pay much attention to it, since he doubts he’ll spend much time in the common room anyway.
“So you’re not from here?”
“Nagano. It’s my second time in Tokyo. What about you?” The city is bigger and brighter than what Sato is used to, but he’s pretty excited about spending the next four years here. He couldn’t wait to explore the Skytree.
“Lived here my whole life,” Kuroo says. “I’ve never been to Nagano, actually, what’s there to do there?” The man finishes toweling his hair, and Sato is slightly taken aback on how…gravity-defying it is.
“A bunch of temples and some,” Sato responds, examining Kuroo’s face more closely now that it’s unobstructed by the towel. Sato couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen Kuroo somewhere before, but try as he might, he couldn’t remember. Maybe he had seen someone with Kuroo’s hair before, or something.
A phone rings. It’s sounding from Kuroo’s bedroom.
“Gotta go take that. Talk later, Sato-san.”
The door to Kuroo’s room clicks shut.
The room on the far right, closest to the shared bathroom, is taken by Kuroo, so now they’re two left: The room sharing a wall with the corridor, or the room right in between the two rooms. Sato decides on the lesser of the two evils and takes the middle one; he doesn’t feel like being awoken by drunkards in the middle of the night.
The interior of the room is minimal, but Sato is impressed by the amount of space he has. He was half-expecting a closet-sized room, given that this is the accommodation for first-year students, but there is enough space to comfortably fit an obese man between the single bed and the wardrobe. Sato calls this a win.
He wheels his suitcases in and shuts the door, putting his hands on his hips and giving a satisfied nod. He opens the window, letting the evening breeze in to ventilate the room, and begins to unpack. If he finishes early, he might see if Kuroo wants dinner.
The sun dips below the horizon, casting an orange glow in his room. Sato is almost done. Just then, there is a knock at his door.
“Sato-san, I’m going to that sushi place down the street, do you want to come?”
Sato is hungry, and sushi sounds fantastic, so he decides to take Kuroo on his offer and resume unpacking tonight. He grabs his phone and wallet and joins Kuroo in the common area. The man is leaning against the back of the sofa, clad in a flannel and tight skinny jeans that accentuate his gluteals and his long, long legs. Sato tugs on his own ratty tee and contemplates on changing just so he looks less of a potato compared to Kuroo.
“Makino’s sushi, right? I saw it on the way here,” Sato recalls, already salivating at just the thought. The food looked really good in pictures.
“Yup, hopefully it’s good. My friend from high school is joining us though, are you okay with that?” Kuroo asks as they don their shoes.
Truthfully, Sato isn’t good with new people, but he does want friends, especially since he’s all alone in a new city. “I don’t mind.”
They shut the front door behind them, and it automatically locks. Sato can’t help but be impressed by the facilities the University has to offer, but then again, this is one of the top private universities in a Tokyo, after all.
“—better than Seijou—”
“Duh, this is a university. Of course it’s better than a high school.”
Sato hears two distinct voices, along with the sound of a trolley being wheeled, before two men round the corner and head towards them. They are still talking, and doesn’t seem to notice Sato and Kuroo yet.
“But still, I can’t believe they’re making us stay in the dorms. I want to live with Iwa-chan!” The taller man in a bright yellow hoodie says petulantly, and if he isn’t wheeling the trolley, Sato thinks he would have folded his arms and stomped his foot.
“It’s only for first year, and shut the fuck up Shittykawa, you law students get one of the nicest dorms on campus!” The shorter of the two says before hitting the taller on the back, his smack clearly audible even to Sato. Ouch.
“Ow! Okay, I’ll…oh, I’m sorry,” the taller boy notices Sato and Kuroo, and stops to let them pass. Sato gives him a nod of thanks.
“So which room?”
“313…ah, there it is!”
Sato halts in his steps, and he feels Kuroo do the same beside him.
“Oikawa-san?” Kuroo experiments. Sato is grateful, for he wouldn’t have dared to say anything.
Both men turn to face them. Based on the conversation he heard, Sato assumes the taller one with chocolate brown hair is his roommate.
“Yes? Do I know you?” It is the taller man. He raises a perfectly trimmed eyebrow in askance, a hand posed on his hips like a model. Sato resigns himself to being the least good-looking person in room 313 by a long shot.
Kuroo confidently steps you to the taller man and sticks out his hand, just like he did with Sato. “Kuroo Tetsurou. Nice to finally meet you, roommate-san.”
Oikawa’s brown eyes light up in understanding. His lips curve into a smile, displaying two rows of pearly whites. “Oikawa Tooru. This is my friend, Iwa-chan!”
‘Iwa-chan’ gives Oikawa another hard slap. Given the size of his arm, Sato wonders if there are many hand-print shapes littering Oikawa’s back. “It’s Iwaizumi, please take care of this idiot.”
“Such a mom, Iwa-chan,”
Kuroo and Oikawa are laughing, and Sato rubs his eyes to make sure he’s not hallucinating, because he’s pretty sure he’s seeing Ikemen sparkles radiating from the two. The aura around his roommates is rather extraordinary, and Sato’s pretty sure that if he walks next to them, he’s going to disappear.
“Hi, I’m Sato Yuma. Nice to meet you, Oikawa-san, Iwaizumi-san,” Sato dares to make his introduction only after he sees that Kuroo and Oikawa are done talking.
“Oh, hello! I guess I’m the last one to the party,” Oikawa says as he shakes Sato’s hand, and Sato’s brain proceeds to short-circuit, because Oikawa’s hands are very soft. How can a man’s hand be this soft? Sato daresay that it’s even softer than his girlfriend’s in Nagano.
“We’re headed to Makino’s sushi for dinner. You’re can join us if you want,” Kuroo offers. He checks his phone and types out a message, probably to the friend they’re meeting.
Oikawa and Iwaizumi share a brief look. “Sure,” Oikawa answers, “we’ll meet you there. I’ll put my stuff down first.”
They part ways at the corridor.
Makino’s sushi is only a five-minute walk from their dormitory next to the Life Sciences building. On the way, Sato cranes his neck so much trying to take in the view that it hurts; the university is huge, much more huge than any of the universities he went to in Nagano. He takes note of the signs pointing to the different buildings, trying to remember at least the directions to the gym and to the student hub.
Adrenaline pumps through his veins; this is it, he’s finally in University and studying a course he likes, away from that small town and in this big, bustling city of dreams.
The reach the small restaurant, and Kuroo pushes the door open. He scans the tables for his friend, and immediately heads to the corner table. “Kenma!”
Kenma, a high-schooler with blond tips and black roots, looks up from his Nintendo Switch as Kuroo bounds over. He nods in greeting, and his eyes sliding over to Sato.
“Ah, this is one of my roommates, Sato. Sato, this is my high school friend, Kozume Kenma. My other roommate and his friend is coming soon, we should get some more chairs…”
“Hello, Kozume-san,” Sato says, hoping the nervousness isn’t showing on his face. Unlike Kuroo, Kozume is hard to get a read on, with his blank expression and large golden-brown eyes that seem to bore into his soul.
“Hello,” Kozume simply says. He puts the menu in front of Sato, and without another word, goes back to his Nintendo.
Perking up, Sato looks over the wide selection, his ghrelin hormones on overdrive. So many types of sushi to choose from. He pens down his choices on the order sheet before passing the paper to Kuroo for him to order.
“I already ordered the mackerel set for you,” Kozume tells Kuroo. Sato looks between the two.
Kuroo smiles, and it’s different from the one he gave to Sato and Oikawa. It’s more soft, more affectionate. “Thanks, drinks?”
“Hot green tea, the usual.”
“Knew I can count on you,” Kuroo says before getting up to give the order sheet to the staff for Sato.
Sato quietly observes their interaction. They clearly go way back even before high school, for Sato is sure he doesn’t have this kind of relationship with any of his high school friends, maybe except for his girlfriend. Kozume also seems like someone who keeps to himself, so Sato is surprised that Kozume is good friends with Kuroo, who is a practically a socialite compared to the both of them.
“Thank you, Kuroo-san,” Sato says when Kuroo returns to the table.
“No problem,”
Kuroo then asks about the game Kenma is playing, and Sato easily fades into the background, content to watch as the two friends strike up light conversation. They’re clearly very close and comfortable with each other, and Sato almost feels a pang of envy as he thinks of his girlfriend back at home.
Speaking of his girlfriend, he should give her a call when he gets back to his room.
“How’s Lev? He improve any from summer camp?”
In response, Kozume makes a face that sends fear creeping down Sato’s spine. Whoever ‘Lev’ is, it sounds like his life is in imminent danger.
“Now that you and Yaku-san can’t come anymore…coach put me in charge of him. Honestly, I’d rather do 100 burpees than play babysit him every practice,” Kozume says, his tone mellow, but the fire in his eyes tell quite a different story.
Kuroo doesn’t seem to be perturbed by Kozume’s murderous aura, so Sato assumes the animosity between Kozume and this Lev person is nothing short of normal. “Calm down, you still have Yamamoto to whip him into shape.”
“Thank you for waiting, here’s one mackerel set and one unagi roll!” The waitress chirps, placing the food down onto the table.
“Thank you, wow, these look good,” Kuroo says, breaking his chopsticks. Sato tries not to salivate as his stomach rumbles.
Kozume zips his Nintendo back into its case, then brings over his messenger bag to put it in. Sato catches the emblem of Kozume’s high school, along with the kanji ‘Nekoma Metropolitan High School’.
“You’re from Nekoma High?” The question slips out from Sato before he can stop it. Suddenly, he remembers where he saw Kuroo and his wild hair before; on television, during the All Japan High School Volleyball Spring Tournament. Although he doesn’t recall seeing Kozume, from their conversation about practice, he assumes Kozume plays volleyball as well.
Sato is roommates with a national high school volleyball player. Sato is eating dinner with national high school volleyball players. What the fuck.
“Hmm? Yeah,” Kuroo says nonchalantly, as if he hasn’t just blown Sato’s mind just now. Granted, he didn’t know that Sato played volleyball in high school too. “You know us?”
“I saw you. At Nationals,” Sato says, looking between Kuroo and Kozume in awe. “I mean, I watched it on TV…my team is nowhere good enough to represent Nagano…”
“Oho? You play volleyball too? What position?”
Sato takes a huge gulp of tea, hyper aware of both Kuroo and Kozume’s gazes on him. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t have a position he is particularly inclined to; he just plays whatever. He knows that this answer won’t fly with players this dedicated to the sport, and he doesn’t want to disappoint his roommate on the first day. “…Setter.”
Kozume nods as he takes a small bite of his roll.
“Oh, you guys play the same position!” Kuroo says, clapping his hands together. “We should play together sometime.”
“I only play for fun, I’m not that good,” Sato hurriedly says. His hands are clammy, and he proceeds to wipe them on his jeans. He hopes Kuroo will forget about it, because he will absolutely get pwn-ed if he plays with national-level players.
“That’s fine! Lev, our junior on the team, sucks at volleyball, but we still play with him anyway,” Kuroo reassures Sato, but that did nothing to ease his nervousness, because in his eyes even the weakest Nekoma player is still ten times better than he is.
Kozume puts his chopsticks down. His unagi roll is only half-eaten. “Kuro, do you want this?”
“Already? Come on, you gotta eat more!”
“I’m full, so no.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Sato chuckles to himself as he watches Kuroo and Kozume bicker. At the corner of his eye, he sees a tall man come into the shop, scanning the crowd as if looking for someone. He then realizes that it’s Oikawa with his rather eye-catching, neon yellow hoodie.
How someone can still look presentable with neon yellow clothes is beyond Sato’s comprehension.
Sato waves his hand, and that catches Oikawa’s attention. The joy Oikawa is radiating is enough for Sato to imagine flowers surrounding him as he makes his way to their table, Iwaizumi in tow.
“Hello! Hope we weren’t too late.”
“It’s because you were too busy flirting with the receptionist!”
“Ow! Stop hitting me, Iwa-chan.”
Kozume dumps the menu in front of Iwaizumi, and that successfully halts their comedic banter. They look at Kozume in confusion, before turning to Kuroo.
“Kozume Kenma. Kuro’s friend,” Kozume says simply, seemingly shrinking with the attention. Sato relates on a spiritual level.
Oikawa smiles warmly. “Oikawa Tooru.”
Kozume twitches at Oikawa’s introduction. It is minute, but with everybody’s attention on him, it doesn’t go unnoticed. He pulls out his phone, uncharacteristically hasty for his calm demeanor as Oikawa mouths ‘what did I do’ to Iwaizumi.
Kuroo also seems confused. “Kenma, what are you—”
“Oikawa Tooru…from Aoba Johsai High School in Miyagi?” Kozume says, locking his phone and placing it back in his pocket.
Oikawa’s mouth drops. It should have been comical, but the man still looks annoying good even when surprised. “Yes? Wow, my reputation precedes me. Did you hear that, Iwa-chan?” He recovers fast, and Sato could practically feel his smugness.
“Aoba Johsai? Wait, I’ve heard that school before…” Kuroo furrows his brows.
“Thank you for waiting, here is your order of one mixed tuna nigiri set!” The waitress is back. She places Sato’s food in front of him. Iwaizumi quickly scribbles down his and Oikawa’s orders and hands it to the waitress as she leaves.
Sato wolfs down a tuna with gusto, the fatty fish tasting like heaven as it melts on his tongue. He is definitely coming back here again.
“Shouyou told me about them. They lost to Karasuno 2-1 at the prefecture semifinals, but Shouyou says their setter is as good as Karasuno’s,” Kozume tells Kuroo. It might only be meant for Kuroo’s ears, but due to their proximity, everyone on the table heard it.
Karasuno, another Best 8 team from the Spring tournament, Sato realizes. Does everyone in the high school volleyball bracket know each other? And Oikawa also plays volleyball…
“Karasuno’s…setter…” Oikawa says, his smile turning stale and his gaze sharp. Sato looks at him warily; reminding himself never to piss his roommate off. Is there bad blood between those two schools?
“Ahhh, sorry, sorry. He doesn’t really get along with Kageyama, haha,” Iwaizumi quickly intervenes.
“It’s okay, I understand you’d be salty. We were too when we lost to them,” Kuroo reassures, and the mood is restored. Sato breathes a sigh of relief, continuing with his meal. “But wow, I can’t believe I’m roomed with two volleyball players, the room allocation quiz really did a good job!”
Sato wishes he could go back and tell his past self not to list volleyball as a hobby on that damn quiz, because he’s pretty sure his definition of ‘hobby’ isn’t the same as these people’s. He’s roommates with a national player and a prefecture semifinals player; his school didn’t even make it into the top 20 of his prefecture.
“Shouyou also told me Oikawa-san won ‘Best Setter’ award for Miyagi.” Kozume says, probably trying to compensate for his slip up. Sato almost drops his chopsticks.
“Oho? That’s pretty neat!”
So Sato is roommates with a best 8 national team player and the best setter in Miyagi, and they both happened to be tall, handsome and charismatic. Is it possible for Sato to feel any more inferior?
“Ah, you heard?” Oikawa looks happier now, thankfully. “Your friend seems to know a lot about me, considering that my school didn’t go to Nationals.”
“Shouyou goes to Karasuno,” says Kozume.
Oikawa and Iwaizumi seem to be communicating telepathically.
“By ‘Shouyou’, you mean…Hinata Shouyou? That number 10?” Iwaizumi asks. Oikawa looks like he swallowed a lemon.
Kozume nods.
“You guys know chibi-chan?”
“Hahaha, yes, of course we know chibi-chan and Tobio-chan. They’re quite a troublesome duo on the court.”
“Hahaha, so it seems. That setter is too good, it’s scary.”
Kuroo and Oikawa laugh, but there’s a scary undertone to it that Sato doesn’t like. He’s going to be living with these two for the whole year, and he doesn’t feel like being maimed in his sleep, thank you.
Sato’s hand itches for his phone. He wants to call up his old teammates to maybe ask if they know anything about Aoba Johsai or Nekoma or Karasuno, because he feels incredibly out of the loop right now. But that would have to wait until he’s in the privacy of his own room.
“Thank you for waiting!” The waitress chirps, and Sato had never been more grateful for an interruption. She serves Oikawa and Iwaizumi their food and hurries away. Oikawa breaks his chopsticks and he digs in heartily, bad mood forgotten.
Sato wonders if his roommate has borderline personality disorder.
Thankfully, they veer away from discussion of volleyball, and Sato finds out that, aside from being passionate (maybe too passionate for Sato) about volleyball, Kuroo and Oikawa are people he thinks he can get along with, and by extension, Kozume and Iwaizumi.
Just as they finish eating, Kuroo holds up his glass of hot tea.
“Hey, cheers to being roommates and meeting new friends.”
Oikawa laughs as he holds up his glass, sending a few rice pellets flying into Iwaizumi. “Cheers to a good freshman year.”
With how they’re behaving, Sato wonders if the tea is somehow spiked. He obliges nonetheless, finding their antics hilarious. Iwaizumi, after a nudge from Oikawa, grudgingly does the same. “Cheers.”
They clink their glasses together.
“Oi Kenma! Don’t be a party pooper!”
“Leave me out of this, I’m not even a college student.”
Sato smiles giddily, watching Kuroo forcibly clink his glass with Kenma’s; his first day in Tokyo and he already has four new friends. He can’t wait to go back and tell his girlfriend.
*
Sato has never had roommates before. While he knows that cohabitation problems will crop up sooner or later, he never expects it to happen on the first official day of the semester.
He sighs, looking at the clock for the nth time; they had exactly half an hour until they have to report for their course orientation, and he is still in his pajamas. Because Oikawa has been in the bathroom from the time Sato woke up and counting. He taps his foot on the floor as he debates whether he should knock on the bathroom door, would it be considered rude to do so?
The door swings open, and Sato almost jumps for joy, except that it isn’t Oikawa finally coming out of the bathroom, but it’s Kuroo leaning against his doorway, yawning hugely, his hair messy enough to be mistaken for a birds nest.
Even fresh out of bed, his hair is still like that, Sato muses. “Good morning, Kuroo-san.”
“Mornin’, you’re up early. Oikawa inside?” Kuroo tilts his head towards the bathroom.
“Um…he’s been inside since eight. I also haven’t showered…” Sato says hesitantly. “Do you think we should knock?”
Kuroo looks at the clock overhead, and his eyes bulged. “Shi— if we don’t we’ll be late!” In two quick strides, he’s there and banging loudly on the door. “Oikawa-san! It’s already eight-thirty, and Sato-san and I need use the toilet, too, if you don’t mind.” Sato almost jumps out of his skin. He hopes Oikawa doesn’t hold this against them.
“What time did you say it was?” Oikawa screams.
“Eight-thirty!”
There is a curse, followed by a loud, mysterious ‘thump’ before the door opens in a flash. Oikawa hops out, a towel wrapped loosely around his hips, dangerously low that Sato could see his happy trail, along with the hard edges of his hipbones. Oikawa’s defined abdominis contract and relax in peristaltic waves with his heavy breathing, sending rivulets of water sliding down almost sensually.
Sato averted his eyes, suddenly shy.
“I’m so so sorry, I lost track of time! Oh my god, we’re so late—”
“Jesus, what were you doing in there…”Kuroo mutters, swatting away the steam that followed Oikawa out. He runs a hand through his already messy hair. “Go on in, Sato-san.”
Sato does not need to be told twice. Luckily, he has already brushed his teeth in the kitchen, so all he needs to do is take a piss and wash his face, and he’s done. The shower would have to wait until he comes back from their afternoon schedule, lest they be late.
Kuroo is pleasantly surprised when Sato takes under five minutes. The man shrugs off his shirt as he dashes in, and Sato catches a glimpse of the most sculpted deltoids and scapulae he has ever seen.
Sato should seriously start frequenting the gym.
*