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“He’s cheating,” Bokuto says, furrowing his brow as Konoha whoops, sweeping up the other three cards that match the one in his hand to form tsukifuda.
“How do you cheat in koi-koi?” Yukie asks, voice somewhat muffled from her mouthful of rice.
“I don’t know, but he is,” Bokuto insists.
Sarukui, selecting a piece of inarizushi from the bento Yukie’s set between them, says, “I mean, if anyone could do it, it’d be Konoha.”
Konoha scoffs. “You’re on a team with Komi, and you want to lay that mantle on me?”
Everyone turns their head to look at Komi. He’s napping, head resting on a makeshift pillow built out of Anahori’s jacket bundled up inside one of Yukie’s tote bags.
“He looks so innocent when he sleeps,” Kaori marvels.
“Yep,” Konoha says. “Almost makes you forget he’s an evil gremlin.”
Sarukui and Bokuto nod solemnly.
Yukie nudges Bokuto in the shoulder, before deciding to settle against him. He’s warm, she reasons. Comfortable. Not very steady, unfortunately, but that’s part of the Bokuto Koutarou experience. “You need – wait, Konoha, are you calling?”
Konoha looks down at his hand, expression calculating.
“Konoha-san takes koi-koi very seriously,” Akaashi observes from the water station to their left, where he and Kaori are filling up the team’s bottles before the next match.
Washio, leaning against the wall between them and the vending machines, snorts. He exchanges a wry glance with Yukie and Sarukui, all three of them very aware of Kaori’s feelings on this particular topic.
“He’s incredibly annoying to play cards against,” Kaori mutters. Akaashi raises his eyebrows, and Yukie muffles a giggle against Bokuto’s shoulder. Kaori and Konoha get along very well most of the time, because they’re the two most likely to tell Bokuto he’s being obnoxious, but it’s straight up warfare the second they’re playing any sort of game for fun. Komi once said he thought they could turn sudoku into a bloodbath.
“Koi-koi,” Konoha says.
Bokuto sits up straight, excited at the potential for redemption. Yukie falls a little, jolted by the movement, but Sarukui steadies her. Kaori groans, and starts muttering something about endless torment and greedy, Konoha, greedy, I can’t believe you’re making me root for Bokuto in a non-volleyball context.
Yukie and Bokuto immediately hunch over Bokuto’s hand, and Konoha makes an outraged noise.
“Oi! Ref!” He looks up at Washio, who is apparently now the referee.
“Since when does koi-koi have a ref?” Sarukui asks, amused, as he selects a piece of mochi from Yukie’s stash.
“See what I mean?” Kaori demands, pressing her hand—and one of the water bottles—to her hip. “Annoying.”
“Okay, so a tsukifuda is worth four points…” Yukie murmurs, running through the options as she and Bokuto squint at his hand.
Washio just gives Konoha a look, as if to say what did you expect?
“It’s Bokuto and Shirofuku,” he says wryly. “This always happens.”
Which is true. Other than when Yukie is chasing him around for being a menace who forgets to give her back her notes (which is always; she should start making him ask Washio, or even break enemy lines and ask Kuroo or Sawamura for assistance) or they’re competing in true battle (eating competitions; Yukie is undefeated, obviously), Bokuto and Yukie are always a team. Even in non-team activities.
(“We’re doing team-building, Sensei,” Yukie says when their English teacher scolds them for sharing the novel they’re working on individual translation questions for. “It is very important to Bokkun’s volleyball success.”
“Yeah,” Bokuto chimes in, bravely barrelling past Konoha’s incredulous snort from three seats away. “This is why Fukurodani wins so much!”)
“You’re a terrible referee,” Konoha announces, but he lets it go. “How’s the other game going?”
Washio quirks up a lip. “Their referee isn’t being called on as much,” he says. “They’re in their third set. Two to one. I think they’ll go to five, though—Ichibayashi didn’t play so well at first, but they’re catching up now.” He looks a little troubled by this. They’re far enough into the tournament now that contenders for the finals are starting to emerge; Ichibayashi is one of them.
Konoha frowns at him, then raps a knuckle against his shin. “Okay, so they’re like the printer in the Science block,” he says. “Good once they’re warmed up. That’s okay. We’re good too.”
Washio’s expression clears. That’s Konoha’s knack, Yukie thinks. Other than the jack of all trades thing—he’s always had a good sense for what someone needs, whether it’s a reassuring word (Washio, right now) or a knock on the head (Bokuto, frequently).
Bokuto throws down a match triumphantly, putting it into his points pile. Konoha’s eyes narrow, and he immediately refocuses on the game, scanning his own cards as he hovers his hand over the ones on the floor between them.
“These are really good,” Sarukui says, munching on one of the onigiri Yukie packed. She nods, taking one for herself.
“Right?” she asks. “Kaori and I went with the Karasuno managers to find some food yesterday and found this stall—it was so tasty, I had to go back today!”
“You say that like you didn’t go back twice yesterday after we went with them,” Kaori says, rolling her eyes. She and Akaashi have finished filling up the water bottles, so they lower them in their carry cages behind Sarukui and Yukie.
Akaashi settles down in a cross-legged position beside Washio’s legs, half-watching the card game, half-focusing on stretching his fingers. Kaori sits on the other side of Sarukui.
“Should we wake him yet?” she asks, inclining her head towards Komi. She pokes him dubiously with the toe of her shoe. He just lets out a muffled groan, and turns a little, hugging the tote-jacket-pillow closer to his head.
“Probably,” Washio says. “He can’t go straight from napping to warming up. You know how he gets.”
Sarukui nods, and prods Komi experimentally in the stomach.
“Eurgh,” he groans, curling up around the spot Sarukui jabbed.
“Good news,” Sarukui announces. “He’s not dead.”
“Could be a zombie,” Yukie puts in, before opening a bag of shrimp crisps. “Probably need a new libero in that case.”
“No,” Komi argues blearily, waking up. “No new libero. ‘M fine.” He sits up, yawning. “Is it time to play?”
“Konoha is cheating at koi-koi,” Bokuto informs him instead of answering.
Komi squints at him. “That’s why you woke me up?” he demands, incredulous.
“No, you just take forever to get going,” Konoha says, not even bothering to look up from the game. Everyone ignores the offended noise Komi makes.
“Actually, Komi-san, I wanted to talk to you about our starting strategy,” Akaashi says. Komi grumbles, but slowly drags himself over to the wall where Akaashi is settled. Washio bends down a little to listen.
“So, with the way they usually cycle their servers…” Akaashi is saying when Yukie turns back to the cards.
“Konoha, hurry up,” Bokuto complains. “I’m getting old over here.”
“Good,” Konoha says unsympathetically. “With age comes wisdom.”
“Hey!” Bokuto protests, loud enough that it distracts the rest of the team from their conversation. “I’m plenty wise. Just ask… just ask Kuroo!”
Akaashi disguises his snort. Konoha doesn’t even bother.
“Uh-huh,” he says, which inevitably sets off a further round of bickering. Akaashi resumes his previous conversation, which Yukie tunes into, shifting closer to hear better.
“—like this?” Komi is asking, drawing a circle with his finger. “So then, if we’re in this formation…”
Washio is nodding. “Does that require Konoha to be prepared to set?”
“Konoha-san should always be prepared to set,” Akaashi says. The man in question ignores this, too busy telling Bokuto that he needs more character references than just the Nekoma team. “But yes, this play would make it more likely.”
“I think I could too,” Komi says thoughtfully.
Kaori and Sarukui raise twin eyebrows at him. He scowls, reaching over Yukie’s lap to shove lightly at Sarukui’s knee.
“I could,” he insists. “Like Karasuno!”
“Sure,” Sarukui says easily.
Kaori is less convinced. “Without practice?”
“She’s right,” Washio puts in. “It’s risky.”
“It’s volleyball,” Komi says, rolling his eyes. “You’re supposed to take risks. Go big or go home, right? Besides, we’re Fukurodani. We’re good at rolling with the punches.”
They all look at Bokuto (currently extolling the virtues of Yamamoto’s character testimonies to an exasperated Konoha), who notices, pauses, then waves (Yukie waves back) before turning back to Konoha.
“Okay, point taken,” Kaori says.
“Still,” Akaashi says, “if Konoha-san’s open…”
“Yeah, yeah,” Komi grumbles. “Jack of all trades, I got it.”
It’s light-hearted, though, and Yukie bumps her shoulder against his fondly. He nudges her back, then zeroes in on her bento, now solely in Sarukui’s custody.
“Is there tamagoyaki?” he asks hopefully.
“It’s so good,” Yukie enthuses as Sarukui nods, passing him the bento box.
Washio, less easily distracted, asks Akaashi, “What do you think about Ichibayashi?”
Akaashi looks up at the court opposite them with interest. “Their setter moves like Kozume,” he observes after a few moments. His brow furrows. “He’s quicker, though.”
“Do you see their left-wing spiker?” Washio asks, nodding his head to the boy in question. He looks a little like Anahori, if he were as tall as Onaga. “He doesn’t have a lot of power behind his spikes, but he’s incredibly accurate.”
Yukie and Sarukui look up and watch alongside them. After about a minute, the spiker neatly sends the ball into the blind spot between the setter and the libero.
Sarukui lets out a low whistle. “Kind of like Fukunaga,” he muses.
“Yeah, but that middle blocker’s the real problem,” Komi says, his words muffled by the egg in his mouth. Kaori wrinkles her nose at him, and he swallows. “The one in the front right now—look how he moves.”
“I don’t see anything,” Yukie says after a moment.
“I think that’s what he’s getting at,” Akaashi says thoughtfully. “He’s not very eye-catching, but he’s clearly effective.”
Washio nods. “He reminds me of Shiratorizawa—not the flashy one, the quiet one.”
“Kawanishi,” Kaori supplies. They all look at her. She scowls at them. “Did none of you read last Interhigh’s tournament guide?”
“That was so long ago,” Komi says mournfully.
Kaori stares. “It was six months ago.”
“Anyway,” Yukie says, changing the subject, “that’s all right. I don’t remember much about Shiratorizawa—except the pinch server, he had cool hair, and obvs Ushiwaka—but I do know we have the best middle blockers in the tournament.” She pats Washio’s sneaker, and he shoots her a slight smile. “So don’t sweat it.”
Sarukui snorts. “Easy advice,” he remarks.
Yukie opens her mouth to respond when a whistle pierces through the air. They all look to the court—even Bokuto and Konoha—to watch the referee call the game.
Ichibayashi’s win.
“All right, so we’ll play them game after next,” Konoha says.
“You’re awfully confident, Konoha-san,” Akaashi comments. He stands, lifting the drink bottle cages as he does.
“Of course he is, Akaashi!” Bokuto cries, pausing in his—admittedly haphazard—cleaning up of the cards. “We’ve earned it!”
Akaashi stops, looking down at him thoughtfully. “That’s true,” he says after a moment. Then: “Come, Bokuto-san, we have to start stretching.”
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” Bokuto grumbles good-naturedly, sweeping the cards into a messy pile and shoving them into Yukie’s bag.
“Oi! Bokuto!” she calls, indignant, but he just laughs, heading to the court. Komi packs up her bento and the tote with Anahori’s jacket inside while Sarukui helps Yukie up.
“I reckon Coach’ll let you chase him for his warm-up,” Sarukui says, and Kaori snorts.
“Tell him it’s good for team morale,” she suggests. “It cheers me up, at least.”
“Hey!” Bokuto calls out from ahead. “I heard that!”
“Good!” Kaori says, much to the laughter of the rest of the team. Even Washio cracks a smile.
And Bokuto, well. He pouts for about three seconds, before giving the biggest beam of all.
That’s Fukurodani for you: always ready with a smile for whatever comes.