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The sharp chill of the early morning air bit at Tadashi’s ankles. He bounced up and down on the balls of his feet as he slipped on his volleyball shoes and tucked his outdoor sneakers into their usual cubby.
The sounds of smacking spikes and squeaking shoes leaked through the seams of the gym doors and Tadashi smiled to himself. With the Spring Tournament over and the third years’ graduation looming ahead of them, Ukai had given them the weekend off. But it seemed like nobody had taken him up on that offer.
Opening the door, Tadashi was happy to see his suspicion confirmed. Kageyama and a few of the second years were stretching in a makeshift circle, while Hinata was bouncing a ball off his forearms with determination. Everyone except the third years was here.
Even Tsukishima had already arrived and was helping Kinoshita set up the net in the center of the court. Just a few months ago, convincing Tsukishima to come to optional practice would have taken monumental amounts of coercion—and even then, it probably wouldn’t have worked. But today he was here of his own accord, diligently wrapping the foam pads around the poles.
Something warm settled into Tadashi’s chest.
Not wanting to disturb him, Tadashi turned to where Yachi was sitting a few feet from the door with her nose buried in a book.
“’Morning Yachi-san,” he greeted. “Whatcha reading?”
She startled at the sound of his voice but quickly found her composure. “I’m studying!” Her face was firm with resolve.
“Studying?” Tadashi tilted his head, double-checking that he had seen the cover correctly. “You’re studying shoujo manga?”
“Mhm!” She nodded enthusiastically. “I’m trying to get bolder!”
Skeptical, Tadashi raised his eyebrows. “…Bolder?”
“Yeah! Shimizu-senpai and the other third years won’t be at practice much anymore so I thought I’d get a head start on building my confidence so I can be a better manager for you guys—I’m gonna read all sorts of other books too, I just thought I’d start where I’m most familiar.”
“But, Yachi-san…” Tadashi scratched at his cheek. “Aren’t the main characters in those stories sort of… not confident?”
She nodded again as if she had anticipated his question. “That’s why I’ve been studying the love interests. Look”—she flipped open the tankobon to a random page which displayed an absurdly tall and broad high-school-aged boy, who stood with his chest puffed out and was saying something borderline provocative—“they’re always so cool and aloof!”
“That’s true,” Tadashi conceded apprehensively. “They do make it look easy.”
“Right! They’re always saying all these flirty things like it’s no big deal—and I always trip up saying regular things so I thought I could try to copy them!”
Tadashi laughed nervously. “Uhh, you’re going to copy their flirting… with the team?”
“No, no!” A blush spread across her cheeks and she waved her hands in front of herself to dispel the idea. “That wouldn’t be appropriate at all! I’ve mostly been trying to learn from their attitudes and get out of my comfort zone—if I’m going to help keep everyone in line then I need to be more comfortable being firm and speaking my mind.”
Despite how ridiculous it sounded, Tadashi followed her logic. Technically they didn’t become second years for another few months, but their roles on the team were already changing. There had been an unnerving cosmic shift the moment that Sawamura, Azumane, Sugawara, and Shimizu had bowed to the court and led them all out of the Tokyo Metropolitan Gymnasium last week. Soon there’d be a new group of first years who would be looking up to Tadashi the same way he looked up to his senpai. Gaining some more confidence definitely didn’t sound like a bad idea. Even if Yachi’s way of going about it was a bit unorthodox.
“Although,” Yachi muttered to herself. “Reading so much shoujo lately has made me think of silly pick-up lines at the worst times—and what if speaking my mind backfires and I do accidentally say something inappropriate to one of you!? That would be horrible—Takeda-sensei would have to report it and I would be fired as manager immediately and I’d have to learn a whole other sport and”—
“Yachi-san,” Tadashi interrupted before her spiral grew large enough to suck Tadashi in along with her. “I’m sure that won’t happen, but even if it did, we’re all your friends. We know you have good intentions. I don’t think anyone on this team would be offended or uncomfortable, especially if you explained.”
“Right,” she blinked a few times, thinking it over. “You’re right, Yamaguchi-kun, thanks. But even so, I think I’ll move on to the self-help books now.”
Tadashi opened his mouth to encourage her when two rapid claps sounded from over his shoulder. They turned to see Ennoshita calling everyone over for a team meeting.
Jogging over to the circle, Tadashi took his place next to Tsukishima as they all gathered around. There were only three less people than usual, but their absence felt much larger.
“’Morning Tsukki,” Tadashi whispered. “This is kind of weird, isn’t it?”
“Mm,” Tsukishima hummed with a nod. “Ennoshita-san seems to be adjusting to his almost-captaincy well enough, though.”
Tadashi watched Ennoshita a little closer as he spoke; Ennoshita briefly hesitated between sentences and Tadashi wondered if he was more nervous than he looked. “I know this seems strange without Daichi-san and the others, but I’m glad to see you all here today.”
Hinata shot his hand up into the air and spoke before Ennoshita actually called on him. “Will they ever come back?”
“Sugawara-san said they’ll try to stop by for practices when they can.” Ennoshita smiled at the interruption. “But that being said we have to start getting used to them not being here. So even though today is just a casual extra practice I thought we could run some scrimmages in teams and combinations we don’t usually get to play in.”
Tadashi’s ears perked up at the opportunity for more on-court time.
“And, I already spoke to Coach Ukai about this, but some of the local middle schools are having an unofficial, end-of-year, round robin tournament next weekend and I thought it’d be good for us to go and take a look at the incoming first years who we may play against or could even end up at Karasuno with us next year.”
“Oh, good idea Ennoshita!” Tanaka chimed in. “You were out when we saw the birth of the freak duo’s rivalry last year!” He motioned toward Hinata and Kageyama, who immediately started arguing about whether it could even be considered a rivalry back then because of Hinata’s lack of skill.
Tadashi didn’t care much to see potential drama like Tanaka did, but the senpai always talked about how much Karasuno changed when this year’s first years joined. The whole team dynamic was going to be in flux starting now and Tadashi was curious to see what the new pool of their potential teammates and competitors might look like.
Tsukishima leaned closer, nodding at where Hinata and Kageyama were locked in their usual ritual of perfectly dodging each other’s attacks. “We’ve been back for all of five minutes and the beasts are already fighting for dominance.”
Tadashi covered his snicker with the back of his hand and rolled his eyes fondly. I guess not everything will change. “Some senpai they’ll be.”
Tsukishima huffed with a twitch of his lip. Tadashi wondered if Tsukishima would come to the tournament too. He had been quieter than usual since they got back from the Spring Tournament. Tadashi couldn’t quite place it. It wasn’t unusual for Tsukishima to deflect after a loss, but this was different—ever since he walked off the court he’d occasionally get lost in thought, but instead of deflating, he seemed to sharpen and buzz.
“So!” Ennoshita interjected over Hinata and Kageyama’s squabbling. “I’ll be hanging out at Sakonoshita tonight after practice; try and let me know by then if you’re interested in coming so we can work out transportation to the gym. Now go ahead and finish warming up if you haven’t already and we’ll start grouping up in a few minutes!”
The team chanted their understanding in unison before dispersing. Tadashi stuck by Tsukishima, shaking out his arms before switching to focus on his legs.
Tadashi’s stomach growled as he pulled his right foot back to stretch his quad. He distantly wondered if Ennoshita would continue Sawamura’s tradition of buying them meat buns. “So Tsukki, do you want to be my date for the tournament next weekend?”
The leg that Tsukishima had been stretching hit the floor with a thunk. He stared at Tadashi. “Your what?”
Tadashi had meant it as a joke, but judging by the way Tsukishima’s cheeks washed pink and his eyebrows drew together in confusion, it hadn’t exactly been received that way. Shocked, Tadashi tried to backtrack. “I—I just meant—I was wondering if you wanted to go?”
Tsukishima blinked once before his expression dulled and his brow furrowed into a more familiar look of bemused annoyance. He opened his mouth to reply—with what Tadashi assumed would be a teasing remark—but two more consecutive claps from Ennoshita sounded through the gymnasium and effectively ended the conversation before it could begin.
Still feeling a little flustered from the misunderstanding, Tadashi went over it again as he took his spot on the court for the scrimmage. It had been a stupid thing to say; they joked around all the time, but never with those sort of implications—Tadashi wasn’t even sure where the thought had come from.
Briefly, he wondered if Yachi’s panic spirals were in fact contagious and had caused him to blurt out something flirtatious just like she’d said.
Luckily, Tsukishima had brushed it off and now stood comfortably on the court, absently adjusting the strap of his sport’s glasses. But as he prepared for Kageyama’s serve, habitually threading his fingers together behind his head, all Tadashi could see was the way he had reacted to Tadashi’s question.
Over the years, Tadashi had seen plenty of girls give Tsukishima full on confessions of love, and none of them had ever received much more than a scoff or polite rejection. But this simple slip-up had left a stain that lingered on the tips of his ears. It reminded Tadashi of the brutal, slow-fading sunburns that Tsukishima would get as a kid before he finally heeded Akiteru's advice about sunscreen.
It was elusive and intriguing. And it left Tadashi wondering if he could make it appear again.
Kei’s fingers were icicles aching deep in his pockets. In a feeble attempt to warm his face, he tucked his chin into his scarf so that his breath wove into the fabric.
Having opted to stay outside away from the chaos, he peered through the frost-tinted windows of Ukai’s family store to gauge how much longer it would be. The sight of his teammates pilfering through a paper bag and divvying up the meat buns was a familiar one. Except this time the image was a little less crowded and had Ennoshita playing the mediator instead of Sawamura.
It wasn’t an unwelcome change; Ennoshita was easily the best one for the job. But seeing the difference that a single week of time could make was a bit odd. It was like Kei had lived an entire lifetime in the last year, and here it was, already over and morphing into something new before his eyes. And soon enough it would happen again. In just another year from now, one of the current first years would be in Ennoshita’s position, navigating the transition from player to leader.
Yamaguchi and Ennoshita stood behind the foldable table in the center of the store, passing buns to Kinoshita and Narita while simultaneously fending off Tanaka and Nishinoya from ripping the bag apart. They looked like a pair of animal wranglers overseeing feeding time at the zoo.
The line of succession for the captaincy couldn’t be more obvious.
Kei’s gaze shifted to the other side of the table where the only two other prospects had inevitably started arguing. The volume of Hinata’s claims that Kageyama had spat onto Hinata’s bun was loud enough that Kei could hear him through the glass doors. Hinata snatched Kageyama’s precious pork curry bun and was now trying—and failing—to hoard it away from him by leaning back in his chair.
Yeah, it definitely has to be Yamaguchi, Kei scoffed.
Sakonshita Shop’s entry bell chimed and Yamaguchi joined him outside just as Hinata and Kageyama toppled onto the floor in a heap of curry and complaints.
“Please tell me you grabbed one for me before the gremlins got to the rest of them.” Kei turned to face Yamaguchi, his voice muffling into his scarf.
“Barely,” Yamaguchi said with a sarcastic smile, holding up a bun in each hand. “I confirmed with Ennoshita that we’ll go to the middle school tournament next weekend too. Sounds like we’ll be taking two cars.”
“Mm,” Kei acknowledged and reached out to take one of the buns. His numb fingers curled around the crinkling wrapper and brushed against Yamaguchi’s clumsily. The relief of the sensation was immediate; warmth sunk past his skin and into his bones. Every instinct he had begged him to relax into the touch.
But before the feeling could linger, Yamaguchi snatched his hand back with a yelp. “Tsukki your hands are freezing!”
Kei blinked, the frigid air already singeing his re-exposed knuckles. “Well, it is January,” he replied, his scarf hiding the rasp in his voice.
“Here”—Yamaguchi held the other pork bun out as well—"why don’t you hold both and try to warm up while we walk?”
The temptation to instigate another accidental touch blared loudly; Kei’s left hand twitched forward impulsively. But he handed his own bun back to Yamaguchi and shoved his hands into his track jacket instead. “Wind chill,” he cited. “You keep ‘em. I’ll eat once we’re home.”
“Okay, your funeral,” Yamaguchi shrugged and took a bite.
They made their way down the hill toward their respective houses. Yamaguchi’s breath fogged in front of himself as he chatted easily. Kei only listened passively, fidgeting his icy fingertips against each other in their isolated pockets. He frowned to himself, disturbed that the burning heat of the fresh pork buns had been nothing compared to the inviting hearth of Yamaguchi’s hands.
Kei bent his legs into the cramped backseat of Tanaka Saeko’s delivery van and idly set up a queue of songs on his mp3 player. He moved to pull the rear driver’s side door closed behind him when Hinata inserted himself into the opening.
“Hey Tsukishima!” Hinata chirped and Kei lamented that he couldn’t have been stuck with any of his numerous less boisterous teammates for the thirty-minute drive to Sendai. “Let me in.”
“Go around,” Kei waved him away. He had accepted that, as Saeko’s brother, Tanaka was automatically granted the front seat; but Kei had no intention of giving up the spot with the second-best legroom to Hinata.
“Yamaguchi is over there and I’m already here. Just scoot over!” He complained.
Scoot? Kei raised his eyebrows pointedly. “I know logic isn’t one of your strong suits, but even basic common sense should have told you that the shortest person gets the middle—"
Before Kei even finished speaking Hinata started climbing him. His grubby hands scrabbled onto Kei’s shoulders as he tried to swing his knee up to crawl across Kei like a scampering beetle.
“Ugh! Okay, okay, stop!” Kei relented, sliding all the way across the seat to get as far away from Hinata as he could; until his entire side was pressed into Yamaguchi.
Shit.
He had moved too close. They were touching at almost possible every point of contact. The length of his track pants and the long sleeves of his club jacket should have acted as a protective barrier, but Kei’s skin buzzed infuriatingly.
Again? His eye twitched. Nothing is happening. He schooled his features. We sit next to each other all the time. This isn’t abnormal.
“Can’t resist sitting in my lap, huh Tsukki?”
Kei’s throat constricted and he whipped his head around, staring at Yamaguchi dumbfounded. What the fuck?
Yamaguchi’s eyes danced playfully and Kei dimly concluded that he must have contracted a fever. The dangerously comfortable warmth that radiated off of Yamaguchi was certainly infectious.
“Ooh, good one Yamaguchi!” Hinata said as he buckled his seatbelt. “Have you been practicing pick-up lines with Yachi-san too?”
Practice? Kei’s slow confusion was injected with an unfamiliar and surprisingly sharp dose of fear.
“Eh?” Yamaguchi’s attention turned away from Kei with what almost looked like reluctance. “No, Hinata I think you might have misunderstood what Yachi-san was saying about her shoujo manga the other day.”
“Ohh yeah I saw what Yacchan was reading too!” Tanaka joined from the front seat as Saeko put the car into drive. “It’s one of my favorites—she’s got good taste!”
Yamaguchi’s shoulder eased closer to Kei's with each rise and fall of his breath, and Kei desperately wished that there were three less people in the car. He was losing track of the conversation around him.
His eyes darted between them all in disbelief. “What is happening?” He gritted out before Tanaka had the opportunity to describe the entire plot of whatever frivolous romance he was going on about.
“Ah, sorry Tsukki.” Yamaguchi finally had the decency to look bashful—which, frustratingly, did nothing to bring down Kei’s temperature. “Remember how I told you Yachi-san was reading shoujo to gain confidence? She was also worried about accidentally hitting on one of us and I guess Hinata overheard that part and thought I waaagh—”
Yamaguchi cut off with a squeak as the car lurched violently onto the highway, throwing them both further sideways. Kei had heard rumors of Saeko’s manic driving habits, but experiencing it was something entirely different. How she managed to enact centrifugal force from merely changing lanes was a mystery Kei had no interest in.
At this point he couldn’t extract himself from Yamaguchi even if he wanted to. It took all of his concentration not to actually fall into his lap.
It wouldn’t be unwarranted if I braced my hand on his knee, the thought ripped across Kei’s mind errantly. What is wrong with me? He glared at the back of his hand, keeping it tightly gripped on the safety of the seat shoulder in front of him.
Last week, he had written off Yamaguchi’s comment about being “dates” as nothing more than one of his amusing word fumbles. There were a handful of other relatively tame, but questionable, jokes since then—though an invitation for lap-sitting was certainly the most egregious—that Kei had attributed to likely being a side-effect of some new drama that Yamaguchi had started watching. Which, judging by his explanation of his conversation with Yachi, wasn’t too far off from what had actually happened.
Except. The pointed, mischievous look in his eye after he said it seemed anything but accidental.
There was also the denial of Hinata’s accusation that Yamaguchi was practicing on Kei too. And if he wasn’t practicing, and it wasn’t and accident, then… he was flirting with Kei… on purpose.
Shakily, Kei chanced a glance at him. Still crushed between Kei and the passenger door, Yamaguchi smiled back at him weakly. But otherwise, he gave no indication that the whiplash he was experiencing was due to anything other than the car hurdling down the road at breakneck speeds.
A prickling, anticipatory kind of spark dappled across Kei’s skin and made his stomach flip. This is insane. I’m not Tanaka, waxing poetic and reading into every little thing. We’re friends. Why do I want to–
White knuckled, Kei gulped the train of thought back down, ruefully glad to be able to blame his nausea on Saeko’s driving.
A sea of middle schoolers bobbled around at Tadashi’s shoulder level as he futilely scanned the crowd for the rest of his teammates. Some of these kids were only a year younger than him, but only about a third of them reached his height.
“Did they always look this… small?” He asked Tsukishima as their group waded against the tide.
Tsukishima hung back a few paces, letting Tanaka and Hinata lead the charge toward the stands. “They did to me.”
Tadashi’s lip quirked and he rolled his eyes.
With a wrinkle in his brow Tsukishima paused and thoughtfully gave Tadashi a once-over, as if reassessing their height difference for the first time. “Now you know what it was like be me during grade school, craning my neck down to talk to you.” He spoke plainly but the corner of his mouth hinted at a smirk.
Tadashi hummed. He always thought he was the one having to crane his neck up. “Better watch out Tsukki, one more growth spurt and I’m gonna catch up to you.” He stuck out his tongue.
“Oh, is that so?” His reply was as nonchalant and apathetic as ever, but Tadashi didn’t miss the way Tsukishima subtly straightened up to his full height.
Inexplicably, the image of the love interest from Yachi’s manga popped up in his mind. The transparent mental overlay perfectly matched how tall and broad Tsukishima looked in the middle of the hall. ‘They’re always so cool and aloof!’ Her voice accompanied the vision, and Tadashi’s stream of consciousness tripped over itself at the uncanniness of it all.
“Noya-san!” Hinata’s voice erupted from a few paces ahead of them.
“Shouyou!?”
Hinata’s hand shot straight up in the air. “Nishinoya-san!”
“Shouyou! Ryuu!” To the left, another hand just barely surfaced above the wave of heads.
The two of them continued their call and response and Tadashi’s group headed toward Nishinoya’s flailing arm.
“It’s like they’re playing Marco Polo in the kiddie pool,” Tsukishima spoke under his breath, and the easy cackle that burst from Tadashi’s lungs effectively dislodged the breath he didn’t know he had been holding.
The four of them greeted Nishinoya quickly and followed him to where the others had already grabbed seats in the stands. Tadashi waved hello to everyone and sidled into the row behind the second years, taking the open chair next to Kageyama.
There were four courts across the expanse of the gym so that eight teams could be playing at once. Unsurprisingly, Tadashi and Tsukishima’s middle school weren’t competitive enough to have been invited; but Tadashi did recognize a few of the jerseys on the center courts as schools he had once played, as well as the iconic purple and white of Shiratorizawa Middle on the lefthand side.
“That’s Kitagawa Daiichi, right Kageyama?” Tadashi pointed to the far-right court where a team of unusually tall players were going through their warm-ups.
“Ah, yes.” Kageyama’s face was pinched as he looked over at his former team.
Hinata took the last available seat, sandwiching Tsukishima and Tadashi between him and Kageyema. “Ooh, who are they playing?”
“Dunno,” Tadashi answered, scrutinizing the team in white across the net from Kitagawa Daiichi’s dark blue. “Since this isn’t an official tournament there weren’t any player handbooks made.”
“Okay, well I’m rooting for them!”
“Why?” Kageyama asked. “What if they suck?”
“So, they can get my revenge from third year!”
“It’s not your revenge—you don’t even know them!”
“Well, you want Kita-Ichi to win right—so if they lose it’s like you lose too!”
“I’m not gonna lose!”
“I’m sorry,” Tsukishima’s voice cut through sternly. “Did you two want to sit together and have this lover’s quarrel in private?”
Kageyama looked genuinely confused by the ‘lovers’ part of Tsukishima’s comment while Hinata just ignored Tsukishima entirely. “You wanna bet!?”
“Ugh,” Tsukishima mumbled under his breath. “Why do I even try.”
“You too, Stingyshima!” Hinata snapped his head to look directly at Tsukishima. “Who do you think will win?”
Tsukishima stared at him flatly. “If I’m right, will you shut up?”
“Okay,” Hinata agreed quickly and sincerely, holding out his hand.
Caught off guard by Hinata’s earnestness, Tsukishima momentarily faltered before thinking it over. “A week. If you lose, no outbursts or arguments for a whole week.”
“Fine.” Hinata shrugged. “But if I win then you have to help me study for finals without complaining!”
Tadashi, thoroughly amused by the entire situation, chuckled at the conflict on Tsukishima’s face when he reluctantly shook Hinata’s hand.
A whistle blew and across the whole gym the games got underway. Hinata and Kageyama zoned in on the match on the far-right court, making their own side bets and continuing to talk across Tadashi and Tsukishima, much to Tsukishima’s annoyance. Giving up on protesting their behavior, Tsukishima’s eyes glazed over and he shifted his attention to all of the games in front of them—almost as if he had mentally put his headphones on to shut the extra noise out.
But his focus on the matches didn’t waver, his interest switching naturally between the different courts as he studied each of the team dynamics. He shifted in his seat to peer around Tadashi while he and Narita struck up a conversation about Kitagawa Daiichi’s blocking systems, commenting both on their weaknesses and giving apprehensive respect toward their strengths.
It was odd. Tadashi was sure that Tsukishima put relatively low emotional stakes on the bet he made with Hinata—and Narita probably had a tertiary interest at best—but it was like there was something humming beneath all of them nonetheless. A simultaneous undertone of excitement and worry about the potential kouhai coming up behind them. The feeling oozed between them all and mixed in Tadashi's chest with the strange new warmth that had been pooling since that first optional practice after Nationals.
Tadashi couldn’t help the upward flickering twitch of his lips at all of the potential. Settling in to the feeling, he joined in with the rest of his teammates’ commentaries.
The match between Kitagawa Daiichi and Hinata’s chosen team was surprisingly close. The team in white was notably tinier than Kageyama’s former teammates, but their floor defense was amazing to watch. Their libero in particular made several impressive digs that had Nishinoya whooping in his seat. Kitagawa Daiichi made a lot of hard hits but it was like the ball just refused to hit the floor, and they just barely lost the first set.
“Wow! We gotta talk to that kid after this!” Nishinoya said pointing to the libero.
Tanaka laughed. “Looking for your replacement already, Noya-san?”
“I mean he’s good now but if I can convince him to come to Karasuno we can make him great—and better he’s on our team than someone else’s!”
“What about that middle from Kita-Ichi, his timing is great!” Narita added.
“Sorry,” Ennoshita cut in. “Ukai specifically said we shouldn’t interfere. Something about maintaining good relationships with the coaches.”
They deflated.
“Tsukishima, look!” Hinata tapped Tsukishima’s chest with the back of his hand and gestured over to where Shiratorizawa was switching sides of the court. “It’s Yura-kun!”
“Stop touching me,” Tsukishima sighed.
“Who?” Tadashi asked.
“Yura Shouta,” Tsukishima explained. “Third Year setter for Shiratorizawa Middle. He was at the training camp with us in December.”
“Ohh cool!” Interest piqued, Tadashi sat up in his seat to try and see where Hinata was looking. Other than complaining about Hinata’s embarrassing gatecrashing, Tsukishima had been relatively vague about what the rookie training camp had been like. “He must be good if he got invited while he’s still in middle school!”
Hinata turned to look at Tsukishima with excitement. “Do you think he’ll come to Karasuno?”
“Doubt it,” Tsukishima said. “All those Shiratorizawa kids are pretty indoctrinated with Coach Washijo.”
“Which one is he?” With all the players huddled around each other during their short break Tadashi couldn’t make out which one Yura was.
Tsukishima nodded his head in the team’s general direction. “Black hair and freckles.”
Freckles? They were far enough away that it wasn’t a very helpful identifier. Tsukishima must have noticed them at camp rather than been reminded of Yura’s appearance now. Tadashi’s curiosity grew, bringing a strange heat along with it.
“Yura-kun!” Hinata cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted at full volume.
“Oi!” Tsukishima flinched. “What did Ennoshita-san just say about interfering!”
“It’s not the same! I know him!”
“Sit down,” Tsukishima glared. “He’s all the way across the gym, he can’t even hear you.”
Still unable to make out who he was, Tadashi leaned over further, looking around Tsukishima to try to get a better view. “Where?”
With an air of frustration, Tsukishima grabbed Tadashi’s face and swiveled his head in the right direction. “There.”
Tadashi froze. Tsukishima’s palm was flush beneath Tadashi’s chin. His fingertips were curled around Tadashi’s face and pressing gently into the soft skin of his cheek. If Tadashi’s breath hadn’t been trapped in his chest, it would have fanned over Tsukishima’s thumb.
At some point over the last year Tsukishima had stopped being so touch averse. He participated in group high fives, did more than the bare minimum to help Tadashi during partner stretches, and even occasionally gave him a brief pat on the shoulder after a tough play. It probably changed around when Tsukishima started talking to Akiteru again—he wasn’t even sure Tsukishima himself was aware of it. Either way, Tadashi had been glad to see him loosening up. It reminded him of the simpler ease Tsukishima had as a kid.
But for the last week or so it had been different. The once fleeting moments of touch weren’t relegated to just casual encouragement or practiced routine anymore. There might be an accidental brush of fingertips or a silent readjustment of a shirt collar. Or an entire car ride pressed solidly against one another.
Careful to move only his eyes, Tadashi met Tsukishima’s gaze before he nodded tentatively. “R-right. Got it now.”
Pink horror flashed across Tsukishima’s face and he released Tadashi as if he’d been burned.
Tadashi was beginning to lose count of how many times he had managed to get that rosy, sunset shade to rise from Tsukishima’s cheeks. But like dominoes crashing down in sequence, this one too was different.
The vibrant, flustered surprise that had carved a path across Tsukishima’s face in Saeko’s van an hour ago had been fun and enticing. Cute.
But the wide-eyed color that painted Tsukishima now was persistent, and infused with flecks of fear.
Like he had been caught.
Tadashi swallowed. Barely anything had even happened. And yet, uncertainty swirled. It picked up speed and gained weight, threatening to engulf them.
Heart beating shakily in his throat, Tadashi suddenly realized he had been entrusted with something fragile and precious.
Hesitantly, hoping to insulate them both from the tumultuous winds, Tadashi offered a smile.
Tsukishima exhaled. Quietly, his features softened.
Relief was palpable; somehow working in tandem with the uncertainty to polish and nurture this delicate new thing that was blooming in the space between them.
The sounds of the gym faded back in. Hinata had resumed to his encouraging cheers; Narita and Kageyama were engrossed in conversation about Kitagawa Daiichi’s player rotation; the other second years discussed a trip to the snack bar. And Tadashi and Tsukishima joined them, returning to the comfortable distraction that the matches in front of them provided.
The midwinter’s early setting sun was low in the sky when the first years stayed back for cleanup duty after practice. Tadashi kicked the doorstop further into place and let his eyes adjust to the dim light that cast through the utility room’s single window. Not for the first time, Tadashi made a mental note to remind Takeda to put in a request for a new light bulb.
“Here.” Tsukishima stood in the doorway and held out two of the four brooms he was holding.
Tadashi raised his eyebrows. “What, was putting all four of them away on your own too much for you?” He asked facetiously.
“Mm,” Tsukishima gave a non-answer, quickly glancing over his shoulder.
“Ah, got it.” Taking the brooms one at a time, Tadashi smirked. It was their first practice back since the middle school tournament two days ago; the nets had already been taken down and these were the last things that needed tidying before Tsukishima would have to face Hinata’s gloating in the clubroom. “You’re stalling.”
Tsukishima shrugged. “Strategizing.”
Laughing, Tadashi turned to lean the broomsticks against the wall. “You lost the bet Tsukki. You’re going to have to tutor him eventually—I think the time for ‘strategizing’ is—”
“Bathroom, bathroom, bathroom, bathroom!”—
Grinning at Hinata’s timing, Tadashi looked at Tsukishima just in time to see him jolt and leap into action. He grabbed Tadashi’s wrist and spun him around so they were both out of sight of the doorway. “Oh my god, Tsukki, you can be so dramat—"
Tsukishima clapped his palm over Tadashi’s mouth, instantly muffling the rest of his words.
Time suspended.
The childish urge to lick Tsukishima’s hand and keep the mood light crossed Tadashi’s mind, but he didn’t move.
They had both been so careful since Saturday. There hadn’t been a single subtle touch or accidental sharing of warmth. Tadashi hadn’t made any more flirtatious jabs. He kept the status quo, silently cradling the little sprout of something that had been growing since then. It was like they had made an unspoken agreement to take a breath; to continue dancing silently around one another and toe the line of the unknown.
—“The time to pee has come!” Hinata continued his ridiculous song as he skipped happily past the storage room.
Tsukishima’s hand slid off Tadashi’s face. But he didn’t retreat.
Gorgeous, sharp eyes searched Tadashi’s face in that singular, focused way that Tsukishima had when he devoted his entire attention to one thing.
It set Tadashi on fire. Fingertips tingling, his breath shook and his stomach swooped, flutter, flutter, fluttering.
It was overwhelming.
And it was familiar.
The realization staggered him. He had felt this hundreds of times before. It had always masked itself as something simple—in the way Tadashi’s chest soared with pride at Tsukishima’s successes, or the joy that bubbled out of Tadashi like a fountain at Tsukishima’s unflinching sense of humor. Or how the few broken pieces Tadashi’s heart slowly mended as he witnessed Tsukishima repair his bond with his brother.
This undercurrent had been beneath him all along, pulling him gently forward while the full force of it hid just out of sight.
But now, it roared. Clarity washed over Tadashi like a riptide.
In this dingy, dusty room, with his back pressed against the wall and Tsukishima pressed against his front, their futile dance finally stalled out. Standing directly on top of that invisible, arbitrary line, there was nowhere else to go.
Storm sirens blared. Kei’s palm pulsed where the soft plush of Yamaguchi’s lips had just been. The damp ghosts of breath still whispered on his skin and Kei clenched his fists to cage the feeling in.
And Yamaguchi was alight. Rather than withering under the scrutiny of Kei’s gaze, Yamaguchi flourished. He was solid; unwavering with a certainty in himself that made Kei ache with envy. With desire.
Warnings flashed blindingly.
But Kei had already been struck. Like a lightning rod, his bones coursed with energy, and the fine hairs on the back of his neck rippled with electricity.
Am I stupid? Instinct clashed with logic and the itch to run clawed between his ribs.
But Yamaguchi licked his lips, and Kei zeroed in on the movement, rooted in place.
Yamaguchi’s voice was soft. Deliberate. “You’re not trying to get us caught in a compromising position, are you, Tsukki?”
He spoke with the perfect balance of sincerity and flirtation. Just enough to pointedly tease; just enough to acknowledge what neither of them were willing to speak aloud. Just enough to be left open to interpretation.
He was offering Kei an out.
Oh. Kei’s throat thickened with emotion. I actually am stupid.
Nothing had changed. This was the same easy comfort as always. The same earnest smile that gave way to a freckle-crinkling smirk. The same deep, brown eyes that saw right through him, that pinned him down and called him out. The same fierce conviction that once encouraged Kei to embrace trying in the first place.
And even now amidst the turbulence of change, Yamaguchi was patient. He always pushed onward, certain that in Kei’s own time, he would meet Yamaguchi where he stood.
On their own accord, Kei’s lips cracked upward unabashedly, tension flooding out of him like a leak in a dam finally giving way. “Yamaguchi, shut up.”
Like a wildfire, Yamaguchi’s smile spread unapologetically and without boundary. Kei basked in its light, the last dregs of his useless fear shaking out as he reached forward with trembling fingers.
He bridged the gap and connected their smiles together. Yamaguchi kissed back without hesitation, clutching Kei’s shirt collar with an enthusiasm that made Kei dizzy.
Reliable logic and unpredictable instinct miraculously melded into one. The reality of reciprocation was evident in every shared breath, each gentle pull, and every quiet laugh of happy disbelief. This was something that could be trusted. Kei reveled in the thunderous harmony of their heartbeats, finally sinking into the warmth that he had been denying himself.