a sprinkle of cinnamon, a dash of sunshine - Chapter 4 - tinygumdrops (curryramyeon) (2024)

Chapter Text

October 23, 2024
Autumn

Shouyou gingerly pads his foot on a branch of the laurel tree, but it splits in half as soon as he places the littlest bit of weight on it. From below, Kageyama yells at him, voice shrill, "Are you trying to kill yourself? Get the f*ck down there and I'll do it myself, idiot!"

"Shut up, I'm trying to concentrate!" Shouyou grouches, gripping hard on the thicker, main bough. "Just stand there and catch me if this branch I'm standing on breaks!"

"The hell am I going to!" Kageyama shouts back, but moves to stand directly beneath Shouyou. "We should've just asked your neighbors for a f*cking ladder!"

Shouyou snorts so hard he almost doubles over. "I've been climbing trees as soon as I had my diapers off! I'm a pro at this, Potty Mouth-san! So just—I don't know—be there and hold the bucket up when I say so!"

Kageyama's grumbling is loud enough that Shouyou can hear him mutter to himself, "I can't believe this f*cking reckless dumbass risking his stupid life for some stupid fruit," before picking up the aluminum gardening pail.

With much effort, Shouyou nabs three akebia fruits from the highest point in the tree. He lets out a triumphant screech, and throws it down as gently as he can at Kageyama. The pail sounds with a satisfying clang.

Akebias, or chocolate vines, bear fruit in bundles, their sweet gray-white pulps and slightly bitter purple rinds making them a prized treat by the residents of Satomori. The vines tend to cling to tall neighboring trees, and it's a challenge to harvest them when they're so far off the ground, wrapped around frangible branches of the mountain trees. Shouyou has been going back to this area ever since he was twelve, finding the laurel and beech trees in this part of the forest line easier to climb than the others.

The furious expression Kageyama wears when Shouyou comes down is not something he's used to; Shouyou's done this so many times he's been harvesting akebia mostly on his own in recent years. But it feels sort of nice, too, having someone other than his friends and family worry about him.

"Wear a helmet or some protective gear next time," Kageyama says as he removes the twigs stuck on Shouyou's hair with a grimace.

Shouyou smiles blithely. "Yes, sir."

They trek a few kilometers further until they reach the foothill where the persimmon trees grow in multitudes. The fruits are particularly plentiful at this time of the year. The villagers have been planting persimmons in this area for generations, coloring the slope with rich yellows, oranges and reds, like the flaming feathers of the phoenix featured in many of Satomori's folklore.

"Like your hair," Kageyama says, gazing upwards at the bounty. He sounds amazed.

Shouyou laughs. "S'really pretty, isn't it?"

"The trees are," Kageyama says, glancing back at Shouyou. "Your hair's a rat's nest."

Shouyou snickers as he grabs one of the low-hanging branches and clips off the persimmons with his shears. "My hair is awesome and you know it. But go ahead and lie to yourself more, I'm not stopping you." He dumps them in the wicker basket and hands the shears to Kageyama.

Kageyama takes it and cuts the plump fruits with the deep, apricot-like color. He proceeds to shear off the rest of the ripe ones from the branches while Shouyou follows after him, carefully stacking the persimmons in the basket as they go.

Once they fill it up adequately, Shouyou slings the leather straps on his shoulders. They trek back down through the narrow trail leading to the unkempt chestnut orchard. Shouyou wagers that he'll get more chestnuts than Kageyama, which the latter vehemently shoots down. They increase the stakes by having the loser buy four packs of yakult from the distant grocery mart.

Shouyou first teaches him how: chestnut shells have spiky husks, so it's better if Kageyama breaks open the protective covering with his feet instead, spreading open the burs by pressing down on the sides with his shoes and collecting the nuts using their tongs. He also tells him to look out for those that have already been chewed on by squirrels; the nuts have distinctive marks and are only around quarter of their original size.

After Kageyama gets the hang of it, they start scurrying around the orchard, head trained to the ground searching for fallen chestnuts. After an hour, they agree to stop and head back down the village, where they can properly count their harvest and declare the winner in safety. There aren't that many bears in this part of the forest, but it's better to be safe than sorry.

As they go down, Shouyou asks at length about Kageyama's life back in Sendai. He's always wondered about how life goes in that Northern modern wilderness, how the people there are like. Kageyama doesn't seem to hold any strong sentiments over his hometown; he tells Shouyou of the tree-lined avenues teeming with restaurants, and the huge, famous brewery in Miyagino ward, all in a clinical manner. Oddly enough, he elaborates on his high school years more than anything else; Shouyou can almost detect a hint of affection there for his teammates, especially.

"They taught me a lot," Kageyama says, adjusting the straps of his basket. "My third year seniors when I first came in were really good."

Shouyou hums. "Do you guys still keep in touch?"

"We have this group thing. A chat, or whatever."

"And...?"

Kageyama winces. "I don't use my phone a lot."

Is that because of his head? Shouyou wonders. "Really? How about you send them postcards? Write them letters?"

Kageyama gives him a flat look. "Who sends postcards in this day and age?"

"You could. And what do you mean, 'this day and age'? Why would that even matter?"

"It's just so..."

"So what?"

Kageyama scowls at him, but doesn't say anything more.

"Ei. You must be pretty terrible at written Japanese," Shouyou concludes. "Well. That's no surprise."

"Huh? Who ever said—because I'm not!"

"You're denying it so much it must be true, eh?"

"Shut up. I can even speak a bit of English—"

"You? No way!"

They bicker and shove at each other some more as they reach the serpentine path towards the rice paddies. Their voices carry over a remarkable distance; the nearby farmers whip their heads around in confusion before finding out the source of the commotion, and they snicker to themselves.

Kageyama wins; he got thirty-three more chestnuts than Shouyou. The taller man crosses his arms and simpers down at him, and Shouyou hits him with little force on the solar plexus. They wrestle each other over the bed of golden leaves in the Hinatas' backyard.

When the sun is beginning to set, Shouyou starts teaching him how to peel off the chestnut's outer skin. They finish the task when the sky is bleak and dark, and Shouyou's stomach is already growling insistently.

After cleaning up, they come inside the house, and Grandma asks Kageyama to stay for dinner. Much to their surprise, Grandma hands him a spare apron and relinquishes her usual role of seasoning the dishes to him.

"Let's see how proud you'd make your mother, Kageyama-san," Gran says with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

Kageyama stills. "I—can't cook?" he says.

"Nonsense! Anyone who has a tongue and a gut can cook." She pushes him in front of the counter and gestures at the slab of chicken thigh. "Go on, now. If you want to make a spicy katsu, how should it taste like?"

"Um," Kageyama flounders. "Spicy?" He then glares at Shouyou, who's trying to muffle his snickers without avail.

"Uh-huh." Grandma waves her hand. "Tell me what you want to taste, and how you want to taste it. What should come first when you take a bite? Is it the heat, then the salt and the fat? Or should the toasty-ness and the crumbly texture of the panko come first before everything else? Or do you want to experience all that texture and flavor, all at once?"

"O-oh."

Grandma nods and gestures at the spice rack. "So, keeping that in mind, what spices should you use?"

Kageyama turns to the rack, then to her, then to Shouyou helplessly. "I... I don't know any of these," he admits. "Or how to use them."

"Not even the pepper?"

"Er..." He points at the bottle of star anise. "Is this it?"

Grandma pauses, then laughs uproariously, hand over her chest. "Goodness! Shouyou, my sweet," she starts, hanging her apron aside. "Teach Kageyama-san the basics, won't you?"

Shouyou puts on his apron. "Alright!"

"By the spirits from the heavens above, I can't have an Iwasawa waste their gods-given talent like this. Not while I'm still alive!" She huffs out another laugh and slinks back to the tatami room.

He and Kageyama share a long look, before Shouyou laughs mightily, tears spilling to his cheeks. Kageyama's flushed from his face to his neck, expression contorting in a supreme form of embarrassment.

"She's got a point, you know," Shouyou says. "You can't be that picky an eater and not know how to cook at twenty-seven. That's just lame."

"I just never had the reason to." Kageyama sighs. "Whatever. Show me which one's which so I won't get humiliated by your grandmother next time."

"If it makes you feel any better, she never fails to school me whenever she gets the chance."

"That... doesn't make me feel better."

Shouyou laughs, taking out the pepper shaker from the rack and dangling it in front of Kageyama's face.

Dinner's a relatively quiet affair. When Grandma places her dishes in the sink and bids them goodnight, Kageyama whispers to Shouyou, "She doesn't hate me, does she?"

Shouyou pauses from lifting his chopsticks to his mouth. "No, she doesn't," he mutters back, confused. "She wouldn't have asked you to eat with us here if she didn't like you."

"Oh. Okay."

"Why'd you ask?"

Kageyama frowns. "I just don't want her to hate me," he replies, shrugging. "She's your grandmother."

"I don't think you could make her hate you even if you tried," Shouyou says, setting aside his rice bowl. "I actually like you, dummy, and she's on my side. So don't fret about it too much."

Kageyama nods, though he doesn't look entirely convinced. "Alright," he says. "I'll—I'll get better at cooking." He flushes a deep red again.

Shouyou leans over the table and smacks a wet, sloppy kiss on Kageyama's cheek. In retaliation, Kageyama grabs him by the neck and kisses him on the mouth. Shouyou first tastes the cayenne and saffron on his tongue, before the flavors gradually open up to reveal a taste that's distinctly Kageyama.

Autumn skies in Satomori are usually clear and deeply blue, but this morning, low level clouds glide over the valley like a continuous sheet of carded, cultivated cotton. Overall, it's a good day to be outside. After doing deliveries, Shouyou stops by the Jins, asking their permission, before quickly heading to Kageyama's place and imploring the other boy to accompany him to the other side of the village. With an unconcerned look and a shrug, Kageyama crawls out of his bed and changes into his default sports attire.

The Jin family estate is not only famous for its size, but also for its ancient and majestic jugatsu zakura—the October cherry tree. It blooms twice every year, both in spring and fall, and it's quite an uncommon cherry tree that the villagers have always looked at the Jins as a family graced by the gods, to have it growing in their backyard for centuries. The only people inside the huge house are the middle-aged couple Jin Naoko and Jin Nomura, with their cooks and gardeners, while the young masters, Jin Yohei and Jin Kozo, are in Tsukuba studying agricultural sciences. They're all serious, soft-spoken folks who keep to themselves. Shouyou personally likes the family a lot, and makes sure to give Naoko and Nomura a lot of their favorite akebia candies during the autumn season.

One of the Jins’ new gardeners ushers Shouyou and Kageyama to the spacious family yard. "I already set up the net," the gardener says. "Nomura-sama wishes you to take your time and enjoy as much as you'd like."

"Oh! I was going to set up the net myself—I feel bad. Thank you very much, mister...?"

The man titters. "Call me f*ckushima." He begins walking towards the back entrance.

"Thank you, f*ckushima-san!" Shouyou shouts after him. He turns to Kageyama, who's become quiet and still as a cat ever since they arrived.

Kageyama's staring at the yard turned into an outdoor volleyball court. The branches of the jugatsu zakura are spread out and overlooking the wide open space, pink and white petals shivering at the faint breeze.

"Is this okay?" Shouyou asks. "You said you play indoor volleyball, but I asked around, and there's no place wide enough in town for it. There's not much wind out here, but I guess there's still some—oh." He falters when Kageyama noiselessly grips his hand and squeezes tightly. "So, you like it, right? Oh man, where did I put the ball? It's right here somewhere..." Kageyama still hasn't let go of his hand, so Shouyou tugs him along as he searches for the ball that must've rolled under one of the bushes.

Once they find it sheltered beneath the azaleas, Kageyama starts teaching him the rules and the proper hitting techniques. It's quite different from the way Shouyou played volleyball with his schoolmates; they were more loose, less competitive. With a dried twig, Kageyama draws a line on the dirt where Shouyou should begin his run-up, and where, ideally, he should jump. Shouyou nods and follows, running as fast and jumping as high as he can. Kageyama sets the ball and it lands—on Shouyou's face.

"Ow, Kageyama, what was that for?" Shouyou rubs his stinging cheek.

Kageyama grimaces. "My bad," he says, chagrined. "We haven't timed properly yet. Give me three more tries." He picks up the ball, and his expression turns pensive. "I hadn't... expected you could jump that high," he adds, astonished.

Shouyou scoffs, dusting off his arms. "Told you I could give Nishida Yuji-san a run for his money."

Kageyama rolls his eyes. "Lucky break, maybe." He jerks his chin towards the starting line. "One more."

"One more!" Shouyou cheers. He bends his knees, laughing breathlessly when he feels it creak a little, before running as fast as he can. Lift me up! he commands the solid, reliable earth beneath his feet, and it complies.

After playing for what seems like hours, Shouyou and Kageyama plonk themselves on the thinning grass under the shade of the cherry tree. Shouyou lays his back against the tree trunk, while Kageyama rests his head on Shouyou's chest. He watches Kageyama's breathing slow into a steady rhythm, before turning his head up to meet the clouds rolling by, absently playing with Kageyama's hair with his fingers.

Kageyama breaks the silence: "You can jump and run so quickly, and you have fast reflexes." He sounds pained and disbelieving at the same time when he says it, spitting the words out. "You said you didn't have magic."

Shouyou lifts his head and grins down. He slaps his chest with his fist. "Nah, dude, that's just all me. I don't need magic for that."

Kageyama frowns. "You could be even better if you had more training."

"I really could. I know that."

"I'm f*cking jealous."

"You should be."

Kageyama turns his head to glare up at him. "I'm not joking," he says with a scowl. "You could've been—" He slams his mouth shut, his teeth clacking audibly.

"What?"

"I... I feel like I understand where your grandmother was coming from."

Shouyou abruptly recalls: I can't have an Iwasawa waste their gods-given talent like this.

He gives Kageyama an amused look. "Well, I'm not, and that's that," Shouyou says. "I've always been like this, you know? Great at the physical stuff. But man, Kageyama, you should've seen me when I was younger! I still feel pretty awesome, but it'd be like having a rickety rickshaw going against a high-speed motorcycle. When I was twenty, I was dang fast." He chuckles, feeling nostalgic all of a sudden. "But I like who I am, and I'm pretty happy and confident with what I can do. Maybe in some alternate universe, I could be playing volleyball with you, eh?"

Kageyama doesn't respond for a long time. Though he eventually says, "If you could find a way to grow taller, maybe you would."

Shouyou throws his head back in a laugh. "Like I'd let something stupid like height stop me from playing if I really wanted to!"

"You won't stop? Even if they tell you you're short?"

"Yeah, duh. Why would I? I can still jump!"

Kageyama thinks about it. "You can," he concurs. "And you can jump even higher." He then proceeds to talk more about technique, about what Shouyou has to do with his legs and feet, when he reaches his point of impact. Very baffling, specific stuff.

Shouyou gets lost when Kageyama starts injecting seemingly random onomatopoeia in his instructions, so he contents himself with listening to the way Kageyama's talking. Commanding, exhilarated. Just like the passionate, ultra-competitive pain in the butt Shouyou expects him to be. It's no wonder Kageyama made it to the world stage at the tender age of nineteen. Volleyball to Kageyama is what cooking is to Shouyou, and just like food, Kageyama can never have enough of the sport; his unabashed love and energy for it can probably sustain a mortal man for the rest of his life.

Shouyou realizes belatedly that all this volleyball talk has lulled him to sleep, when Kageyama starts shaking him awake.

"Did you just snore?" Kageyama says sharply, pinching Shouyou's arm.

"Um, no." Shouyou wipes the wet evidence off his chin. "You were saying something about receiving?"

Kageyama blinks, and then sighs. "I made you jump around for four hours." He looks almost guilty.

Shouyou's sore legs twitch at those words. He splays them even further, liking the vague, sore feeling on his muscles. "Yeah, you did. You wiped me out pretty good." He smiles. "Let's do that again. Hopefully with more people."

"Alright."

Shouyou cards his fingers through Kageyama's hair once more, liking the feel of it on his skin. Abruptly, Kageyama takes his hand and presses his lips on Shouyou's palm.

Shouyou reddens. "Gross, Kageyama!" he exclaims. "I'd been spiking a dirty ball with that hand!"

Kageyama mutters something in Shouyou's hand, which sounds suspiciously like, "Don't care." He then twists and hauls himself up until their faces are level. He rests his hands on Shouyou's cheeks, staring at him quite seriously.

Shouyou laughs, eyes crinkling in affection. "You're holding my face like a volleyball," he remarks.

Kageyama colors. "So?"

"Nothing," Shouyou says. "It's not bad. I like it. A lot!"

"Okay." Kageyama begins kneading Shouyou's cheeks experimentally. "How about now?"

Shouyou laughs even more. "Yeah, definitely."

"Okay." Kageyama angles his head and kisses Shouyou.

Shouyou closes his eyes and allows himself to melt into the sensation, letting out a happy sigh. He feels Kageyema suddenly stiffen, before sitting up straighter and pressing himself into Shouyou's arms, kissing Shouyou more firmly. The smell of Kageyama's clean sweat and cherry flowers in full bloom fill his nose. He feels lightheaded.

Kageyama really likes kissing, Shouyou's quickly finding out. It's not supposed to be too surprising, since Kageyama's a very tactile person, but there's an unusual intensity to how he explores Shouyou's mouth, tongue curling at the edge of Shouyou's lips. He finds it hard to hold back the noises threatening to spill from his throat; when Kageyama begins sucking Shouyou's lower lip, his resolve breaks—he moans, embarrassingly loud, over Kageyama's mouth.

Fortunately, Kageyama chases away his little hitches of breath by cradling Shouyou closer and kissing him full on the lips, though slower this time. There's spit gathering under the swell of Shouyou's lower lip, but he can't find it in himself to care. His eyelids flutter, hot spikes of pleasure making his heart beat madly in his ears.

In a fit of inspiration, Shouyou decides to try something. He grabs a fistful of Kageyama's shirt and pushes the other man flat on the grass.

In surprise, Kageyama pulls away, eyes round as saucers, and before he gets to say anything, Shouyou places his arm on the base of Kageyama's throat and assaults his spit-shiny mouth, kissing him with all the passion he can muster.

When he feels Kageyama go boneless underneath him, Shouyou pauses and chuckles at Kageyama's ear. "Told you I'd get back at you for that," he whispers, thoroughly aroused and vindicated.

Kageyama looks at him, hazy-eyed, before reaching out and grasping for Shouyou's neck. He pulls him closer until Shouyou finds his face pressed against Kageyama's collarbones. He feels Kageyama's chest rumble when he mutters quietly, "You got me."

Shouyou presses a kiss on Kageyama's neck. "No kidding. I got you good."

Kageyama gives him an exasperated look, before craning his head to kiss Shouyou again.

Suddenly, someone clears his throat.

Shouyou and Kageyama pull apart frantically, looking up.

It's f*ckushima-san, standing a feet away from them and holding a wooden tray. He's flustered, for sure, eyes darting at everywhere but the two of them on the grass. "Refreshments, Hinata-san? Kageyama-san?" he says.

"Oh!" Shouyou says when he finally finds his voice. He disentangles himself from Kageyama's arms and scrambles to take the tray. "I-I'm—you didn't have to, f*ckushima-san."

"I would have given it to you earlier, but you two seemed absorbed." f*ckishima's eyes grow wide. "In your game, I mean! You were playing so hard." He jerks his chin at the drinks. "They're fresh orange juice. Made them myself this noon."

Shouyou laughs, high and reedy. "Thank you, f*ckushima-san! Really! We'll enjoy these well!" He bows four times.

f*ckishima leaves, but not after sneaking back curious glances at Shouyou and Kageyama. It takes a lot of effort for Shouyou to dampen the sense of uneasiness growing in the pit of his stomach.

The news that hometown favorite Hinata Shouyou and mysterious big-city man Kageyama Tobio are dating spreads like wildfire.

Shouyou helps out in the rice harvest with great trepidation, on high alert for any unsavory comments or any hints of disapproval. Thus far, no one says anything weird. But he keeps on getting these looks—intrigued, inquiring looks, obvious glances that Shouyou isn't accustomed being directed at him. He's done a couple of things in his teenage years, but nothing big enough to warrant the funny stares he's been receiving. He wonders whether this is how it was before his grandmother's time, way before the Hinatas were truly accepted in Satomori.

He ties the bundles of rice with dried long leaves, before stacking them together on a tall bamboo pole speared to the ground. Once he's done with his row, he approaches the Fujitas' side and ties the rice bundles the same way.

Surprisingly, it's Fujita Kentaro who sidles up to him and is the first to speak: "So, you and Kageyama-san, huh?"

Shouyou stands to his full height, alarmed, but then Kentaro guffaws, the sound carrying across the field. Some of the farmers pause to stare at them intently.

"Easy there, Shouyou." Kentaro smirks, gray hair soaked with perspiration. "Just had to get it out of the way."

A fit of anxiety threatens to overtake Shouyou, making it hard to keep his voice steady. "Um—"

"That fledgling gard'ner with the Jins said you and Kageyama-san were horsing around in their backyard the other day," Kentaro says. "But I do wonder. What, were you two really just fooling around or—?"

"No," Shouyou says immediately. "It's the real thing, Kageyama and I." A whoosh of breath leaves him, but he feels infinitely better, saying it out loud.

Kentaro laughs boisterously once more. "I knew it," he says, drawing out his sickle and slashing the rice stalks as he goes. "You fellas getting along well, I hope?"

"Very well." Shouyou's knees almost buckle. He then says, heart beating so loud in his chest, "I like him a lot."

"Eh? That's swell. And how about him? Does he like you?"

"I-I think so. He hasn't really said—"

"Hasn't said?"

"... Yes."

"Ei, now that ain't fair. I say beat the lad into tellin' how he feels, like a real man!" Kentaro tsks. "He's been hanging around 'em city slickers for far too long—the Satomori blood in him's weak. Not enough to influence. Need to toughen him up and make him say what he means. You gotta show him, Shouyou."

Shouyou smiles shakily. "Thanks for the advice, Kentaro-san. I'll keep that in mind."

Kentaro then looks him in the eye. "Folks here got nothin' to do but drink and talk," he says gravely. "Not everyone around here's as hip and progressive and all-around stupendous as I am—" At this, Shouyou cracks a grin. "—but do understand that even though honesty may be novelty, it's still very much appreciated, eh?"

"Yes."

Kentaro pats Shouyou on the arm. "Hold your head up high, Hinata Shouyou. Looking all frantic and timid ain't you at all, lad."

Shouyou feels this strong surge of relief. He almost hugs Kentaro, but the older man has a very sharp sickle on his person, so Shouyou opts with lifting all of Kentaro's bundles and stacking them on the pole. "I'm just worried about how the folks here will think of Kageyama," he divulges. "I don't want 'em to talk badly about him. And back where he's from, he's not exactly... an ordinary person."

Kentaro snorts. "Well, goddamn. Anyone who drives to the middle of nowhere in the freezing rain I don't consider right in the head," he says, shrugging. "If you don't mind me saying so."

"I don't mind at all." The weight in Shouyou's stomach eases. "I'm... I'm just hoping that people knowing won't change things."

Kentaro shrugs again. "Just look at it this way, m'boy," he says. "Unless you're the prime minister or Watanabe Ken, nobody really cares who you go home with." He then laughs. "Give it a week or two, and it'll pass. You did nothin' wrong."

That seems overly optimistic, even by Shouyou's standards, but he'll gladly take anything at this point.

In truth, Shouyou hadn't even considered being out was an option. His skin is already tingling at the prospect. And most of all, "Thank you, Kentaro-san," Shouyou says earnestly.

Kentaro smiles. "Good people deserve nothing but good things." He hands Shouyou his sickle, and Shouyou proceeds to clear off the rest of the row.

The days pass without much bluster. Shouyou still gets some wayward looks whenever he traipses through town, but nothing exceedingly distressing or provoking. After his talk with Kentaro, a few villagers started asking, with varying degrees of politeness, how he and Kageyama were doing, and Shouyou replied as candidly as possible. Weirdly enough, all of it made Shouyou a bit more certain of himself, his heart pounding and his grin widening every time he talked about how Kageyama makes him feel. Kentaro was right about being honest.

It was silly of him to even think of hiding how much he cares for Kageyama. It's not even likely he would succeed in the endeavor, anyway.

Case in point: one morning, Matsuda and her friend Noguchi had cornered Shouyou in the marketplace. She only took one good look at him, and remarked, "You must be happy, Shouyou-kun!" She laughed a tinkling laugh. "Kageyama-san is such a sight for the sore eyes! I've been saying so ever since I saw the boy!"

"Stiff as a board, the young fellow, but not so much now as when he first came," Noguchi intoned. "And a man of surprises indeed."

"Still, Shouyou, good-looking city boys aren't to be trusted fully," Matsuda cautioned. "You were old enough to remember what happened with Aoyama-san, weren't you? If you find yourself in a bind, you just come to me. I've been around here long enough and I've seen enough. We'll drink to our hearts' content!"

Shouyou, feeling red and discomfited, stumbled through his words of gratitude, and Matsuda and Noguchi only laughed and questioned him some more. It took them half an hour of probing and teasing before they were satisfied and let him go.

Unfortunately, Kageyama doesn't see the silver lining in all of this. He clenches up and answers tersely to everyone in town indiscriminately, rude as heck, which Shouyou sort of understands at first. He saw how Kageyama worked himself up into a wordless panic, back in the Jins', after witnessing how f*ckishima reacted at the two of them together. But now, Shouyou's been trying to wheedle Kageyama into considering they can do this out in the open, but Kageyama isn't budging.

"I am not going to f*cking hold your hand while people look at us like kirins," Kageyama eventually snaps. They're sitting face-to-face on Kageyama's bed, glowering at each other.

Shouyou punches Kageyama's thigh as hard as he can. "Why not?"

"Are you really stupid?"

"You can't say something like that and not explain it to me!"

"Do you seriously expect me to be okay having those people talk sh*t about you? About us?"

"What are you even—how can you even know what they're saying when you're not even giving them the time of the day? You're being so rude to everyone!"

"It's not that hard to imagine," Kageyama ripostes spitefully. "I've been in a professional sports league for almost a decade. You've read all the horsesh*t they've been saying about me in the papers. I don't give a flying f*ck what the people here say about me, but if they honestly think I'll just take whatever they dish and lay out on you, they've got another f*cking thing coming."

That's—the longest, profanity-laden speech Shouyou thinks he's ever heard from him. He decides to shed his amazement and focus on the matter at hand. "I've been living here, Kageyama, in this small town, for my entire life," he reasons. "I know what you mean, but you gotta trust me on this."

"I trust you. It's them I don't trust."

"So what? Do you want us to break up, since you don't want to be seen with me anymore?"

Kageyama's expression shutters, and then all of a sudden, Shouyou's back is on the mattress, the force of the movement shocking the breath out of him. Kageyama tackled him, and he's now looking down at Shouyou, arms shaking with barely-contained fury. "f*ck you," Kageyama grits.

"Right back at you," Shouyou says. "Answer the question—do you want us to break up?"

"I didn't say sh*t!"

"Yeah? So you don't want to break up, but you don't want to do couple stuff with me? Make up your goddamn mind, Kageyama." Shouyou settles back his expression into something more open. "If you think I'm not being fair, then what do you suggest we should do?"

This time, Kageyama doesn't respond; his mouth stays shut, skin taut and weary at the edges. From this angle, Shouyou can see that his eyes are glistening.

Shouyou reaches out to touch Kageyama's exposed neck. "As long as you're here, I can do anything," he says quietly. "You said. You promised."

Kageyama squints at him. "I remember."

"You're not going back on your word." Shouyou is absolutely certain of it. "Don't be afraid, Kageyama. Aren't you excited?" he says.

All the fight seems to leave Kageyama in that instant. He leans down over to Shouyou's side, before resting his forehead on Shouyou's. "I saw," he then croaks after a while.

"What?"

"Your face. When f*ckushima-san walked away." Kageyama stutters out a breath. "You were scared, too."

Shouyou's throat tightens. "Maybe at first," he admits. "But you have to know... we're surrounded by good people here in Satomori. They'll talk, of course they do, but they don't mean anything bad about it. Maybe that's not the case everywhere else, but it's true here. We've got good people, Kageyama. You even said so yourself." He strokes Kageyama's forehead, pulling back his hair. "Have a little faith in them, okay? There's nothing wrong with that."

Kageyama stays silent. Shouyou figures it's the best time to kiss him senseless, and so he did.

When they resurface, Shouyou gives him a soft peck before saying, "Anyway, who cares what everybody else thinks? I'm not in love with them, am I?" He grabs the meat of Kageyama's shoulders. "Who am I in love with, Kageyama?"

Kageyama exhales. "Me."

Shouyou squeezes the muscle until all the tension in it bleeds out. "See? Easy as pie." He then laughs. "I'm going to make all the ladies in town seethe in envy. Hey, you gotta be as close to me as possible. Like, you gotta stand only one centimeter away from me at all times."

"That sounds incredibly uncomfortable."

"You're right. What about ten centimeters?"

Kageyama doesn't acknowledge that with a verbal answer, but he does press himself more to Shouyou's side, curling up like a pine marten. Shouyou puts his arms around him. It's difficult, with Kageyama's size, but Shouyou does it anyway.

As his eyelids flutter close, Shouyou barely registers Kageyama turn, slinging the covers over them. Afterwards, Kageyama takes Shouyou's hands in his.

Kageyama drives them to the arena in Hagura, Kamiyama's capital. It's a three and a half-hour drive from the village, but with the car and the way Kageyama's driving, they'll probably be there in half the usual time. It's Shouyou's first time in the Lexus; he fiddles with the air conditioner, the cup holders. He bemoans Kageyama's lack of CDs or anything resembling a music player.

"Don't you listen to music when you're driving?" Shouyou asks.

"No."

"What about when you drove from Tokyo to Satomori?"

"None at all."

"No workout music?"

Kageyama shakes his head.

"You are so boring."

Kageyama side-eyes him quickly. "What do you need all the extra noise for?" he says.

Shouyou makes a gurgling sound. "Noise? Why I oughta—fine. How about you picture this, you soulless loser—you're playing in center court at Tokyo Dome or whatever, and you're about to do this super amazing toss to your best spiker—" Shouyou extends his arms and splays all his fingers in the air. "—and ahhh! The crowd is squealing in anticipation! There are drums beating so loud, the trumpets, the fan chants, and then wham!" He spikes the air. "Your hitter scores a point on the quick! The crowd goes wild! Adlers win! Dah dah dah dun dun daaaaahhhhhh! There should be a victory music in your head, making it all better! Fantastic!"

"Okay," Kageyama answers, uncharacteristically mild. "What victory music should I have?"

Shouyou beams so hard his cheeks hurt. He takes out his phone. "I swear to the mountain goddess, Kageyama-kun, this song is just a hundred degrees of pure showmanship." He blasts Joan Jett's I Love Rock N' Roll on Kageyama's high-end speakers.

They do arrive earlier than they're supposed to, so he and Kageyama scour the streets for good food. Shouyou has only been to Hagura once, when he had to get official papers for Natsu's application to university. Kageyama seems to take this information with some interest, and tells Shouyou that he doesn't mind walking farther out.

As they stroll down the streets, they don't hold hands, but they do stand close.

The stone roads are lined with trees of different shades of evergreen and red, the sunlight coming in faint streams. With the leaves collecting at the street gutters and the historic buildings, it's like they're strolling through a primeval town rather than a city. A group of school children in yellow caps walk beside them, clutching transparent umbrellas and talking excitedly amongst themselves.

They find a promising sushi place after another twenty minutes of walking. There are a lot of cars parked outside, and with a cursory glance, the place is packed with customers from all age groups.

Shouyou tugs Kageyama's shirt sleeve. "Let's eat here," he says. "We have time."

Kageyama nods.

The servers look young enough to be college students, while the people in the kitchen are all elderly women, their face serene as they mold the sushi in their palms. The interior is divided into wooden panels where calligraphy and old-style Japanese paintings are hung.

They choose to sit at the far side of the room. Shouyou extends his legs and rubs his ankles against Kageyama's, and he snickers when Kageyama coughs over his glass of water.

Their orders of kakinoha zushi arrive a quarter before noon. "Mackerel sushi, wrapped in orange persimmon leaves," the male server explains. "It's our specialty."

"I haven't tried any of these before," Shouyou says to Kageyama once the server has left. "Have you?"

Kageyama shakes his head and eats it whole. He chews noiselessly, before giving Shouyou the thumbs up.

Shouyou takes a bite, and it's just—wow. The fish and the rice taste pleasantly sweet. Grandmas in the kitchens are really something else.

Kageyama entangles their legs further. "You think you can make this at home?" he says.

"You bet," Shouyou chirps. "Want to order another set?"

Kageyama gives him a small smile and nods.

There aren't that many people who came to watch the games. Shouyou suspects that most of the audience are families and friends of the players. It feels a bit rude and intruding taking the front row seats, so they shuffle towards the back where they can still get a clear view of the court.

Kageyama lays his jacket across their laps and slides his hand underneath, slotting his fingers in between Shouyou's. Shouyou's heart almost bursts out of his chest, though after a minute, he relaxes, feeling warm all over with quiet delight.

The first teams competing in the men's division are the Matsusaka Hoppers and the Hagura Swordfins. A handful of the players are only slightly taller than Shouyou, and they aren't as coordinated in their plays like the teams in Kageyama's league. It's an unfair comparison, but the differences are so stark that Shouyou can't help but wonder whether Kageyama's enjoying this at all.

"Their timing's off whenever they block," Kageyama suddenly murmurs.

"Who?"

"Matsusaka," Kageyama says. He's got his other hand under his chin, eyes raptly tracking the movements on the court. "They disperse way before the Hagura's spikers complete their run-up." His eyebrows furrow. "They're doing a dedicated block, but it's not working so far."

"Mhmmm." Shouyou shifts his gaze back to the court, not understanding, but now a little assured that Kageyama's fairly invested in the match. Maybe for him, all volleyball games must be worth watching, even if the teams suck a bit.

Hagura wins 25-18 after two sets. The player wearing the #18 jersey is definitely their star player, and he has a pretty sick vertical.

"I can beat that, no contest," Shouyou comments.

"I can beat that," Kageyama retorts.

Shouyou doesn't doubt that at all, but he makes sure to roll his eyes so hard that Kageyama notices and hits him on the shoulder. He's doing the people of Japan a huge service in keeping Kageyama's monstrous ego in check, for sure.

For the next several weeks, Shouyou's days are filled with a flurry of activity. Though he still spends most of his waking hours in the kitchen and going around town delivering food, he also finds himself in someone else's barn or yard, chopping timber and hauling sacks of wheat and barley. During downtimes, which he's not having a lot lately, he chats with his grandmother while they're skinning persimmons at night, or he's in Kageyama's place, sprawled on the tatami floor, talking nonsense or watching movies and volleyball matches or making out (or all three at the same time).

So when Natsu comes home on the 26th of November, it's like the world is telling him to take a well-deserved break.

Natsu always demands all of his attention, especially when they were kids; she can be a real pain, though now Shouyou's grown to like spoiling her and playing the older brother role. That old saying about distance making the heart grow fonder must have some truth in it, he supposes.

Natsu being back in Satomori gives him an excuse to set aside his responsibilities for a while. It'll be great, getting to act like a carefree teenager with her again.

"So this is Nakamura Kaho, Hanae Haruka and Esumi Asako."

Shouyou inwardly sighs in relief. No boys, thank the gods.

The three girls bow in unison. "It's nice to meet you, Hinata-san," Nakamura, a petite girl with black hair and blonde highlights, says.

Natsu laughs and squeezes Nakamura's arm. "You don't have to be so formal around onii-chan. In fact, I'm encouraging you to treat him as your lapdog!"

Shouyou looks at her in mock exasperation before showing the guests to their rooms. "It's really not a lot, but please make yourself at home!" he says brightly. "What would you guys like to have for lunch?"

Natsu slings her arm around Shouyou. "Don't be shy, girls! Tell him whatever you want and he'll really make it for you!" she exclaims.

Shouyou laughs. "You're being pushy again." He presses his finger on her cheek.

"Yeah, sure, but I wasn't lying," Natsu quips, tightening her hold around Shouyou and giving him the noogie. Natsu is only three centimeters shorter than Shouyou, and she'll forever give him grief about it.

"We'll have anything you prepare," Nakamura says, and the other two nod vigorously.

The siblings leave the three of them alone so they can unpack. They head outside to Natsu's car, a second hand dirty-white Nissan Sentra that she seems to have an unusual attachment to. She even named it Haru-chan.

"Think they're too tired to go hiking?" Shouyou asks, opening the car trunk and taking out Natsu's luggage.

"Let's give them something tame for today," Natsu says with a chuckle. "Not everyone has limitless energy like we do."

"You schooled anyone during your last athletic meet?"

Natsu scoffs and flexes her biceps. "What an insult to insinuate I did anything less. I completely buried them!"

Law students are such a bunch of competitive freaks. Shouyou smiles. "I hope you didn't get into any fights like last time."

Before Natsu can answer, the door to Kageyama's house opens. Shouyou waves ecstatically at Kageyama, who seems to have gone frozen on the spot, utterly confused at the sight of another creature with untamable red-orange hair.

"Oooohh," Natsu whispers, eyeing Kageyama appreciatively as he approaches. "Is he New Guy?"

"Yeah. Let me introduce you." Shouyou gestures. "Kageyama, this is my sister, Natsu. She's the one staying in Tokyo that I told you about. Natsu, this is Kageyama Tobio. His mom's from here, but they moved to Sendai way before he was born."

Kageyama bows. "It's nice to meet you."

"Likewise!" Natsu says brightly. "Say, Kageyama-san. You want to join me and my friends? Onii-chan's showing us around town!"

Kageyama's gaze flickers to Shouyou before saying, "Hinata already gave me a tour months ago."

Natsu gapes, and then throws Shouyou a loaded side-eye. "Ahh, I didn't know that." To Kageyama, she adds, "It's still an open invite. We can team up and bully my beloved brother while we're at it."

"Oh. Alright." After a moment of them standing around awkwardly, Kageyama bows and promptly takes his leave.

Once the door to the Iwasawa residence closes, Natsu points a perfectly manicured finger at Shouyou. "You are going to make me pancakes, and you are going to tell me everything." She brings her finger closer to his face. "Okay?"

Shouyou puts away Natsu's hand and sighs.

"Oh my god!" Natsu shouts at him over the dining table. Strawberry syrup trickles at the side of her mouth. "So he's like, practically your boyfriend?"

Boyfriend. Shouyou flinches. There's something in that word that doesn't sit right with him, but he supposes that it's enough to somewhat describe what he and Kageyama have right now. "We're... together, yeah," he says finally.

"Who else knows?"

"Uhh, everyone in town, I guess?"

"Everyone?"

"Er. Izumi and Koji, too."

"Koji-san's in Nagoya and you told him, but you didn't tell me?" Natsu screeches. "Your own sister?"

"Hey, I thought there wasn't much chance Koji would meet him soon!" Shouyou says. "And you said you were coming home, so I figured it'd be better if you met him first before I told you."

"Oh my god," Natsu repeats.

Shouyou hands her a packet of ginseng extract, and she takes it gratefully and sucks the whole thing in one go. He then gives her a napkin, pointing at the syrup on her chin.

"He's not that good with new people, Natsu," Shouyou explains. "So you gotta be gentle with him."

"Like you can be gentle." Then, Natsu stills. "Holy hell—you two aren't horizontally shaking and baking it, are you?"

"Natsu!" Shouyou all but squeaks, heat immediately rising to his face. "What the heck are they teaching you in law school?"

"Uh, all the important things, obviously," she snipes. "So are you two—"

"I am not talking to you about this! It's none of your business." Jeez, sisters.

Natsu rolls her eyes at the ceiling and groans. "I really have to get you out of Kamiyama for a week or two. If you two idiots are just circling each other and giggling like a bunch of old maids, I'll be hugely disappointed."

"Natsu," Shouyou warns.

Natsu just laughs at his face, doubling over. "How'd they take it?"

"Who?"

"Gran," Natsu says, wiping a tear from her eye. "The villagers. Are they..." Her expression turns solemn. "'Cause I'll fight them, onii-chan. You know I will."

Shouyou can feel himself softening under her gaze. "I think Gran knew before anyone else—"

Natsu snorts. "Of course she did."

"And, well, as for the others—it was a tough first few weeks, but it's... going. Surprisingly well, honestly." Even the Jins still allow them to use their backyard, which Shouyou hadn't expected. "I think they're curious more than anything else. We're trying not to make people uncomfortable about the idea of us, at least."

Natsu puffs her cheeks. "Yeah, I really got to get you out more. It's not on you to make people accept you, onii-chan. It's not your burden."

Shouyou looks at her helplessly.

"If anyone says something, you should tell me straight away. The nerve of them—after all you've sacrificed for this town? Ugh. People can be such assholes." Natsu stabs her pancake with her fork. "Don't worry, onii-chan. I got your back."

"I know you do," Shouyou placates. "And you shouldn't worry. No one's being mean right now, and you know I can fight back."

"Not when you're too busy protecting Kageyama-san from all the haters."

Shouyou smiles. "No one's hating on anyone, not on my watch, so you can rest easy. Who's the older brother here, twerp?" He ruffles Natsu's hair. "Why don't you let out all that feistiness in the courtroom instead?"

"Speaking of which." Natsu sets aside her empty plate and folds her arms over the table. "I haven't told you about that windbag I met when I was applying for that internship, right?"

"You've been coming across a lot of—" Shouyou snickers. "—'windbags' lately."

"Yeah, no kidding. But this one's the biggest douche yet."

Natsu regales him of the latest law school drama, and Shouyou props his chin up with his hand, nodding and laughing all the while, thoroughly entertained.

At some point in their conversation, Grandma joins them. In between sips of tea, Grandma scolds Natsu more than once for her language, which Natsu artfully sidesteps by hugging her and screaming at the top of her lungs about how she missed them terribly.

Shouyou drives the four of them in Natsu's car, showing them the interesting spots in Satomori. They stop by the souvenir shops, Toya's handicraft store, and the public market. At first, the locals gawk at the three Tokyo girls, eyeing their dyed hair and strappy shoes. But they welcome them with the usual Satomori bluster soon after.

Hanae is the quietest of the bunch, her demure chuckles easily overpowered by Natsu and Nakamura's animated banters. But she seems to have a keen interest in food, stopping once to taste the turban snail meat glazed with sweet coconut milk, and shyly asking Shouyou about his pear cake recipe. So he hangs back and talks to her about picking seasonal fruits and baking, the latter appearing to be a hobby of hers, while Natsu, Nakamura and Esumi shop for clothes and shoes in the novelty store.

"I wasn't supposed to come here," Hanae divulges as he ties her thick mahogany hair in a neat ponytail. "I was thinking of taking a vacation somewhere abroad—Europe, maybe—but when Natsu invited me, she said that the food here is really good." She raises a delicate eyebrow and smiles softly. "I must admit I was skeptical, but she definitely wasn't bluffing at all. Our lunch was exceptional. It's almost unfair we're eating it for free."

Shouyou smiles back, a thread of laidback warmth coursing through him. "Anytime for Natsu's friends. And that's great to hear! I'm glad you enjoyed it."

"I hardly get to eat any home cooked food in Tokyo," Hanae says wistfully. "Sometimes, after a really long day, all I want is to stay warm under a kotatsu and eat a nice bowl of nabe, you know?"

Shouyou nods, understanding. When he looks up, the afternoon sky is a cloudless blue; definitely a good day for nabe. He decides to make one for them when they get home.

On the ride back, Natsu suggests inviting Kageyama over for dinner, which Shouyou vehemently vetoes. Natsu ignores him, however, and is quick to get off the car as soon as it stops. She approaches Kageyama's house like a storm.

"You'll overwhelm him!" Shouyou shouts from the driver seat. "Oi, Natsu!"

Natsu sticks out her tongue at him and knocks.

"There's no stopping her, Hinata-san," Esumi says with a giggle. "She always does what she likes."

She's really living up to the Hinata name, alright, Shouyou thinks ruefully. He sighs and opens the car door. The women follow him inside the house, bags full of clothes and souvenirs dangling from their arms.

Of course, Kageyama doesn't stand a chance against Hinata Natsu and her magic. The six of them are now all in the tatami room drinking the hibiscus tea Grandma prepared. None of the women recognize Kageyama, but Shouyou can tell that they find him attractive instantly, judging from the way they inadvertently blush when Kageyama so much as glances at their direction. Shouyou, for the most part, finds it extremely amusing.

"What do you do, Kageyama-san?" Nakamura says, pink-cheeked and smiling.

Kageyama looks up from his teacup. "I play volleyball."

"Oh, really? Like, as a hobby?"

"No."

"Professionally, then?"

Kageyama nods.

"Oh, that sounds wonderful. I don't know much about volleyball. What position do you play?"

"Setter."

Esumi tries, "Ahh. That must be fun!"

"It is," Kageyama answers.

Shouyou's navel is hurting so much from holding back laughter. His face must be terribly red.

Kageyama gives Shouyou a panicked look when he stands up from the table to continue preparing dinner. Shouyou throws back a wicked smile, waggling his eyebrows as he walks away.

Grandma's in the kitchen, slicing the cabbage into strips. Shouyou puts on an apron and starts boiling the stock.

"Do you like it, Gran?" Shouyou asks her. "Getting visitors?"

Grandma chuckles. "Of course. More mouths to feed. And I know you think that way, too."

"Just checking." Shouyou shapes a meatball with his palms. "Aren't old people easily irritated by noise?"

Grandma pokes him with a ladle. "Such impertinence," she says warmly. "Kageyama-san seems to be very popular with Natsu's friends, hmm? Color me surprised." She smiles, remembering. "His mother was such a beauty in her teenage years. Young men from all over Kamiyama used to come in droves and serenade her by her bedroom window."

"Really?" Shouyou's jaw slacks. "Wow. Matsuda-san did say Kageyama's dad was a trader of some kind. She said he was handsome and tall, too." Kageyama really lucked out in that regard.

Shouyou chews on his lower lip, feeling a sudden, vicious stab of insecurity, at the thought of his strange hair, his height, his rough hands, the burn scar under his left forearm, his boring brown eyes. He hardly cared about his appearance, deeming it inconsequential in the face of most things, but there are times that he does wonder.

Shouyou exhales, shrugging off the bothersome thoughts. He is who he is, after all. There are more things he likes about himself than the things he wishes are different. He lets those concerns swirl away like the tiny bubbles in the broth.

"Shouyou."

Shouyou raises his head from staring down at the pot. "Huh? What?"

Grandma points at the towering figure standing awkwardly near the stove.

"Um." Kageyama scratches his shoulder. "Can I help?"

"Ah. Ahhh!" Shouyou peers at his grandmother, who nods. "Sure! Want to wash those potatoes?"

Kageyama obeys, taking the potatoes to the sink. Shouyou's shoulder brushes with Kageyama's arm, and it's kind of disconcerting how such little contact can make Shouyou's mood do a complete one-eighty.

Kageyama opens the tap. "What were you thinking about?"

"Hmm?"

"Earlier," Kageyama murmurs. "You looked all sad and mopey over your soup."

"Oh. Nothing special. How did it go back there?" Shouyou whispers back.

Kageyama grunts. "Your sister's nice."

"And her friends?"

It takes longer for him to answer. "They're nice, too."

"Why don't you talk to them some more, see how much nicer they can be to you?"

Kageyama flicks water at his face. Shouyou hears Grandma laugh breathlessly from behind them.

"Onii-chan."

Shouyou stops at the doorway of his bedroom. "Yeah?"

Natsu looks at him uneasily. "Can we talk?" she says.

She and Shouyou relocate to their backyard, where they can talk freely without disturbing their sleeping grandmother and the guests. It's dark out on the decks; Shouyou opens the lamps.

Shouyou sits cross-legged on the jute rug. "What's up?"

Natsu has her arms around her protectively, frowning at Shouyou. "Kageyama-san said he's a professional volleyball player."

"Yeah."

"He still is, isn't he?"

Shouyou freezes. He knows where this conversation is heading. "Natsu," he exhales tiredly.

"He's not staying here."

Shouyou gives her a tight smile. "You seem to know everything already."

"Kageyama Tobio, number nine, setter of the Schweiden Adlers," Natsu narrates dispassionately. "Sustained multiple concussions, a left shoulder and a back injury. Placed on long-term injured reserve since twelfth of March 2022. After completing concussion protocol, team management claims that Kageyama is projected to return by—"

"What do you want me to say here?" Shouyou interrupts. "Natsu, just please, leave it—"

"I want you to tell me that this thing you have with Kageyema-san isn't serious," Natsu says. "'Cause, onii-chan, I swear to god—"

"It's serious." Shouyou stands up, gaze not leaving her face. "I'm serious with him. And you're... nothing you'll say will ever change that."

Natsu juts her chin out, mouth wobbling like she's about to cry. The thing is, Shouyou knows—he understands, fundamentally, that she's worried about him. But whatever it is that she wants from him, he's not going to give. Shouyou has always gone by his own choices; it's his bitter pride that he chose to forgo college, he chose to continue the family business, he chose to remain in Satomori. Nobody can make him live his life the way he doesn't want to.

"How can you be with a person that won't even stay?" is what Natsu lets out all of a sudden, and that's—that's not fair at all.

"You don't think I haven't thought about that?" Shouyou says, hands curling into fists at his sides. He's shouting now. He can't help it. "You don't think I've never wondered about what happens after? Because I know, Natsu! I know there's an after! Why won't you just let me be?"

"Because in that f*cking after, he won't be here anymore, and you're going to be alone, by yourself—"

"Shut the hell up, Natsu—"

"No, you listen to me! I am not going to let some asshole cause sh*t and leave you here and make you stand by the door for twenty years like you're some goddamn paramour who can't catch a break! Those months waiting for Dad to come home were the absolute f*cking worst of our lives—"

"Did you think I've forgotten, cause I remember clearly—"

"I don't think you do, or else you wouldn't be doing this to yourself!" Natsu yells back, stomping her feet. "Onii-chan, please think! Kageyama-san will be in Sendai! Tokyo! Europe! He can go away at any time, to any place, but you can't! You can't follow him, and he can't be with you! Is that really fair?"

"You don't get to talk about fairness when even you left me here," Shouyou bites out. "So shut up, Natsu. I don't want to hear a single thing about this anymore."

Before Natsu can say anything else, Shouyou storms out of the yard. He shoves his feet in his work boots and drags his bike outside.

Turning away from Natsu is hard, almost a physical pain—akin to being sucker punched in the gut, more than once. He doesn't know how much of it is because of Natsu's ability, and how much is because he hates fighting with the little sister he loves so much, but he chokes back the tears threatening to spill over and pedals to wherever his feet will take him.

He's tempted to go to Kageyama's house, but in the end he bikes past it, thinking that if he does, it'll be like Natsu won the argument. He's not—he's not going to be miserable without Kageyama, is he? He hadn't been before, he's sure, back when he hadn't met him. Shouyou was happy. He is, and he will be, no matter what happens.

But there's no taking away the fact that Natsu was right, too: Shouyou will miss Kageyama so badly when he leaves. Right now, he's having a hard time catching his breath, just at the thought of Kageyama saying goodbye, like there's an invisible hand grasping at his heart and squeezing it so tight his chest aches all over. He's always thought being in love is a wonderful thing, a precious privilege, but he hadn't expected it would hurt so much like this.

Shouyou has really been thinking about after, but it's always been a nebulous thing. A looming deadline that he and Kageyama are too cowardly to talk about. But now, thanks to Natsu, Shouyou can't get it out of his head. Because Shouyou can't leave, and Kageyama can't stay, and he doesn't know what to do.

Shouyou has to stop near the canals of the rice paddies. He clings to the lamp post, heaving hard, sweat and tears and saliva collecting under his chin. Once he recovers, he spits forcibly on the ground and wipes his mouth with his sleeve. He then looks up, assessing his surroundings.

He's on the far east side of town, where there'll hardly be any lights once he bikes a few hundred meters further. Unconsciously, he had cycled towards the hillside where he and Kageyama spent most of the night of the Mud Sports Festival.

Shouyu chews on his lower lip, tasting the familiar tang of blood. He sighs to himself and bikes ahead.

When he arrives at the top, there's someone else already sitting on the boulder. It's Urobuchi Kouta, a rice farmer. It's hard to believe he's already eighty-nine when he's still climbing up steep hills without anyone's assistance. Still, though—"Urobuchi-san, it's not good for you to be walking up the hills all by yourself," Shouyou tells him. "And it's really late already."

Urobuchi holds up his lamp, the light rendering half of his face in shadow. "I could say the same for you, young Hinata." He smiles and bows deeply. "What brings the guardian of Kamui Fuchi's hearth on this lonely hill of mine?"

Shouyou pads forward and sits next to him, sighing wearily. "I just needed to cool off, I guess. Sorry if I'm intruding."

"To be in the presence of someone from the Hinata family is always a delight. After all, your grandmother and I used to be playmates when we were little." He laughs. "She cheats very often, with or without her magic."

Shouyou hums, wiping clean the dust and grime that stuck to his forearms. He stares after the view of the village, unseeing.

It's silent for a while, until a loud, clinking sound fills the air. Shouyou turns to Urobuchi, thoroughly puzzled, when he sees the elderly man waving his keys and hitting it on his palm like a tambourine. Urobuchi then begins singing an upbeat folk song about reaping the joys of farming when you're most down.

"In the valleys where I rise, the rains have come to show," Urobuchi sings, winking at Shouyou. "All the things that remind me of far away home."

Shouyou snickers and joins along, "The coldness shan't find me in the streets, the darkness shan't find me under the sheets."

"Because the rice straws, they surround me! My shelter in the wide fields!" Urobuchi says, ringing his keys in the air. They end the song number by cackling at each other and clapping their hands.

"Ahhh, wonderful! Wonderful!" Urobuchi says with glee. "You can sing like the sparrows, young Hinata."

"You too!" Shouyou says, feeling more like himself again.

"How has the harvest treated you so far?"

"The harvest? Uh, pretty good! I was at the Hideyoshis a week ago, and the rice was plentiful. How about you, Urobuchi-san? Do you need someone to reap your field? I can help!"

Urobuchi smiles serenely. "I had not planted any rice this year."

Shouyou jolts back. "Really? Why?"

"The field was not in the right condition this spring," Urobuchi says. "Do not worry! I have enough potatoes to last me the winter."

Shouyou nods slowly, considering. "I didn't know. You didn't seem upset last time we met."

"Oh, you hardly get upset about these things, once you get to my age. But the littlest things, like forgetting where in the heckling mudballs did you place your hat, hoo! That will throw you off the whole day." Urobuchi inhales deeply; a loud, crackly sound emerges as the air flows through his windpipe. "I will make sure this autumn and winter that the land would be fit for planting rice this coming spring, so never you mind."

Shouyou pulls up his legs and rests his chin on his knees. "That's the one thing I haven't really gotten the hang of," he says. "All that—" He wrinkles his nose. "Soil conditioning thingy."

"Ahh, I find it the most difficult thing about farming as well, and thus the most important," Urobuchi intones. "A well-prepared land will yield the most bountiful and healthiest of crops. Just as the well-conditioned mind can weather anything life throws at it." He turns his smile to Shouyou. "Plow the fields, nourish the soil, take out the weeds, irrigate the land. Every day. Painstakingly."

Shouyou grins. "Farming isn't for the lazy folks, huh."

"It truly is not!" Urobuchi laughs. "It is back-breaking work, but it is not without its joys."

"It does feel pretty good when you start stacking all the bundles and you realize—" Shouyou opens his palms. "Woah. You've got so many!"

Urobuchi tilts his head in agreement. "That is why preparations are very important, as I mentioned," he says. "Rice grows in suitable soil, in fields that have been tilled and watered with care."

Shouyou licks his lips, which are already cracking in the cold. "In suitable soil," he repeats, mostly to himself. "In fields that have been tilled and watered with care."

"Yes," Urobuchi says. "With all your love and care."

Shouyou quiets, and then smiles widely. Love and care. He definitely has those in abundance; that won't be a problem at all.

He stands in front of Urobuchi and bows. "Thank you for your advice, Urobuchi-san."

"I am glad it helped." Urobuchi bows back. "May the hearth keep you warm always."

Shouyou leaves the hill awash with a different kind of resolve. Before riding his bike, he pauses first to take in the fragrance of the cold November night—fresh grass, healthy earth, birch boughs, fallen maple leaves in their last steps of life. He then pedals with a calm set to his shoulders.

Natsu's still awake by the time Shouyou comes home, sitting by herself in the tatami room. Her eyes and cheeks are blotchy red, and she cries anew when she sees Shouyou by the front door. Her mug of coffee is almost empty.

Something inside Shouyou twists in pain, hot and unbearable. He saunters towards Natsu and hugs her. Natsu hugs him back just as tight, uncaring of how dirty and smelly he is.

By the time Natsu stops crying, Shouyou's black hoodie and undershirt are soaked through. He keeps her in his embrace for a long time.

"I miss Dad," Natsu croaks.

"Me too."

"You must miss Mom."

Shouyou messes her already disheveled hair. "She would've loved to be here and witness you grow up, twerp."

"I just don't want you to get hurt," Natsu says damply. "I want you to be happy."

"I already am," Shouyou assures her. "I'll always be warm and happy, with or without Kageyama here. I'm Hinata Shouyou. Isn't that who I am? Who we are?" He grins down at her. "Don't worry. I won't sully the family name."

Natsu harrumphs, her demeanor now taking on its usual energy. "Call me if Kageyama-san's being a jerk to you. I can go down and kill him, and no one will ever find the body."

Shouyou chortles. A tiny furious woman beating up an almost two meters tall professional athlete makes for a funny mental image. He doesn't want to encourage her, though. Hinata Natsu doesn't make idle threats. "Seriously, what ever are the stuff they're teaching you in law school?" He ruffles her hair again. "I really like Kageyama, so I'm hoping you two will get along. Yeah?"

After a beat, Natsu nods. "He seems alright, so I think I can manage. Plus, he's really f*cking hot," she says. "I want a hot volleyball boyfriend, too."

Shouyou laughs. "I'll ask him if he has any teammates who are still available." He then turns serious. "I don't want any more jerkass lawyers for you, okay?"

Natsu snorts. "Like they can handle me." She hugs Shouyou again.

December 9, 2024
Late autumn

It's almost eleven in the evening when Kageyama makes a sudden proposal: "Sleep with me."

Shouyou's toes catch on the sheets hanging off of Kageyama's bed, and he tumbles on the floor with an audible smack. "What the heck, Kageyama?" he exclaims, sitting up and rubbing his right leg.

Kageyama gives him a deadpan stare. "It's late."

"I know! That's why I'm going!"

"It's cold as f*ck outside." Kageyama scoots back to the wall. "My bed is big enough for the two of us."

The room is suddenly too hot and stifling. "What do you—s'not like I'm going on a maiden voyage. My house is just ten steps away—"

"Hinata," Kageyama says, ears turning pink. "We're just going to sleep. Literally."

Oh. Oh. "Why didn't you say so, you jerk?" Shouyou makes a show of stomping towards Kageyama's bed and flinging the sheets.

Kageyama scoffs. One side of his mouth curls up into a sneer. "It's not my fault your brain is full of dirty thoughts." He keeps a hand on Shouyou's waist as Shouyou slinks closer, facing him.

"It's just—the way you said it..." Shouyou grumbles. He distracts himself by twirling the drawstring on Kageyama's hoodie.

"Sorry." Kageyama sounds totally unrepentant.

Shouyou looks up to meet Kageyama's gaze. Their faces are so close that he can feel the other man's breath on his skin. "Should we... should we talk about that?"

"What? Sex?"

Shouyou reflexively flinches. Kageyama being so blasé about this is not helping his nerves. "Y-yeah," he stumbles out. "I haven't done it with a guy before." He can count on one hand all the sexual experiences he's had with girls, but when it comes to guys, Shouyou's at a complete loss.

Fortunately, Kageyama hears the unspoken question there. "I have."

Shouyou gasps. "Really?"

Kageyama shrugs. "I'm around a lot of guys most of the time." He frowns. "Some teammates like fooling around. Especially after a game."

"Ahh. That makes sense." Stack a bunch of physical guys in a room, all reeking of power and testosterone, stuff's bound to happen. "When was your first time?"

"Nineteen. In Brazil."

"Summer Olympics?"

"Yeah."

Shouyou smiles despite himself. "So the rumors are true, huh?" He's heard about the things athletes do out there in between games, all cooped up in the Olympic Village; they're young, at the height of their physical fitness, under immense pressure, with loads of excess energy. Really not difficult to imagine.

Kageyama averts his eyes and rests his chin over the crown of Shouyou's hair. "I did it twice," he mutters. There's a hint of shyness in his voice, which comforts Shouyou a bit. "I just wanted to know what it feels like. What my body can do." He shrugs again, making Shouyou's nose brush with the swell on Kageyama's smooth throat. "It was alright."

Shouyou breathes out a shallow laugh. "Just alright? Nothing spectacular?" he teases.

Kageyama turns silent. Shouyou can hear the gears in his head shifting. "I did it both ways," he says eventually. "And both were okay, but it's not like I had a lot of experience to glean from. Besides, I didn't really care for it."

"Oh."

"But they also said it's a lot better if you do it with someone you like," Kageyama says, very softly. "So. I wouldn't really know."

Oh. Shouyou thinks, remembering. Kageyama's voice was amazed and fearful when he whispered, once, No one's ever been with me before. He purses his lips, then says, "Kagayema-kun. You'll have to, like, walk me through the steps. Okay?"

Kageyama's shoulders stiffen. "I'm not forcing you to do it with me," he says, his voice taking on a hysterical note. "I was just—"

"Answering my questions, I know." Shouyou can't help but cackle, and Kageyama's hand flies to Shouyou's scalp, gripping tightly. "Ow! Sheesh, that hurt! I'm not making fun of you!"

"Then stop f*cking laughing!"

"Alright, alright!" Shouyou says, grin still in place. He drags himself up so he and Kageyama are eye-level. "I'll try not to piss you off since apparently you're the one who has more experience."

Kageyama's gaze on him turns heavy. "You sure you want to do it? With me?"

"Of course. Who else?"

"Alright." Kageyama flushes deeply and kisses the space between Shouyou's eyebrows.

"You're not gonna go overboard and draw diagrams for us on a whiteboard, are you?" Shouyou says.

Kageyama narrows his eyes. "Sex isn't like volleyball, dumbass."

"But 'teamwork makes the dream work' still applies, yeah?" Shouyou jokes. "Slick, grade-A pass to the attack line, toss, spike. Score."

Kageyama seems to be actually considering it. "You're right," he finally says, tone soft and content.

"Let's do it someday," Shouyou says, snuggling more into Kageyama's arms, feeling greedy. "Not right now. I'm almost lights out. But someday."

"Someday," Kageyama agrees, voice low. He draws them closer, one hand still on Shouyou's hair, stroking them absently.

Shouyou rubs his nose against Kageyama's hoodie, making sure the mixed scent of lemon soap and moon milk imprints on his mind.

The next morning, Shouyou wakes to a series of harsh, insistent raps on the door. Kageyama is the first to move, groaning and winking angrily at the sunlight streaming from the window. He slides off the bed and opens the door.

Shouyou's about to fall asleep again when he hears a boom of gleeful laughter from the tatami room. Someone roars, "f*ck you, Kageyama! Why didn't you tell us you weren't dead yet, you asshole?"

Shouyou sits up immediately, sheets and pillows flying. He has a sinking feeling he knows who Kageyama's unexpected visitors are, and he instantly regrets agreeing to stay the night. His eyes scan for a closet or a space big enough where he can hide, but there's none. He falters, telling himself that he's reacting unreasonably—it's not like he's some thief or a pervert, breaking into Kageyama's house. What's he acting so skittish for?

But, Shouyou thinks as he swallows down the thick lump in his throat. Maybe it's better if they don't get the wrong idea. He stands up and fixes Kageyama's bed. He stands in front of the mirror and tries to flatten his perpetually uncooperative rust-colored hair, to no avail. He gives up and opens the door silently.

When he comes downstairs, there's a congregation of tall, burly men in gym shorts or track suits, except for one guy who's in jeans and a sweatshirt. They brought a huge box of pizza with them.

"—iumi-san, please keep quiet. You're making so much noise," Kageyama grouches, ushering his teammates to the single couch that has enough room for only three of them.

"You must really be feeling better if you're already comfortable lording over us, Tobio!" the man with the goatee snickers, slinging his arm around Kageyama.

Kageyama pries himself out of the man's grasp. "I'm serious. Someone's still sleeping upstairs."

"Upstairs?"

At that moment, everyone's eyes fall on Shouyou, who's standing frozen by the stairwell. Kageyema sighs, eyebrows furrowing in frustration.

"Who's he, Tobio?" Goatee man says.

Kageyama, in the most emotionless voice humanly possible, answers, "He's my lover."

Lover?

Shouyou's face flames as he continues down, everyone except for Kageyema gaping at him. "Er, hi!" he says, bowing. "I'm Hinata Shouyou. I live at the house across the street. Nice to meet you guys!"

A man with a shocking full head of white hair shuffles and leaps in front of Shouyou. He's the shortest one in the group, only a couple of centimeters taller than Shouyou. "Is it true? Are you Kageyama's boyfriend?" he asks, almost shouts, point blank.

Shouyou blinks. "Uh—"

"Yeah." Kageyama slinks to Shouyou's side. He then nudges him. "Hinata, these are my teammates in the V. League. Don't mind them."

The man in the jeans laughs. "What a lukewarm way to introduce us, Tobio," he says in accented Japanese. He bows at Shouyou. "I'm Tatsuto Sokolov, but you can call me Sokie. Everyone here in Japan does. Nice to meet you too."

Shouyou's eyes widen in recognition. "Ahh! You're the Adlers' super cool, super fast middle blocker!" He remembers pulling out one of the Adlers' games from his 'Watch Later' list on YouTube and hearing the announcers wax poetic about the Russian-born player. "Woah. I can't believe you're so freaking tall up close, Sokie-san! You were like a wall against the Green Rockets for the whole season last year!"

Sokolov looks startled, before laughing once more, hand on his neck. "Thank you, you're very kind," he says.

"You've been watching our games, Hinata-san?" a man with a quiet voice and mild demeanor asks. Shouyou can't remember his name, but he can vaguely recall the moniker the announcers kept on saying during the broadcast. Was it Spiderman? Spider fingers?

"Sometimes!" Shouyou says. "But usually I just watch the highlights."

The man smiles tinily. "I'm Hirugami f*ckuro."

"Nice to meet you, Hirugami-san!

"Alright, that's enough," Kageyama says, stepping between Shouyou and his teammates, his back towards Shouyou. "I want you guys to just—"

Somebody's stomach rumbles.

"Sorry," a man with ash brown hair says, his face expressionless.

The one beside him—Nicolas Romero, Shouyou remembers. The Brazilian offensive tank—guffaws and slaps Serious Guy's arm. He says something to them in English, pointing at the pizza. The rest of the team save for Serious Guy and Kageyama double over in laughter.

"If you're hungry, I can cook something for you guys," Shouyou offers. He nudges Kageyama with his elbow. "I'll go get 'ya some food."

Kageyama's lips pucker into a severe frown. "Aren't you busy today? You can go. We'll survive."

"Nope! S'why I stayed over in the first place." Shouyou mimics his scowl. "And that's no way to treat your teammates, jeez. They drove all the way here to see you!"

"Yeah, Kageyama! What he said!" the white-haired guy quips. "Throw us a party or something!"

"I should've bought a cake, too," Sokolov murmurs. "Damn."

Shouyou squeezes Kageyema's forearm. "I'll be back in a few. Go catch up with them." It's also time for a strategic retreat on his part. He's still wearing yesterday's clothes.

Kageyama doesn't look pleased at this development, but he nods anyway.

Before Shouyou can close the front door fast enough, he hears Kageyama growl to his team, "I really like that f*cking idiot, so don't act like sh*ts to him—" He doesn't hear the rest of the threat.

Shouyou blushes to the roots of his hair as he enters his own home, Kageyama's low, menacing tone reverberating in his head.

He gets a quick rundown of their names: Serious Guy is Ushijima Wakatoshi; White-Haired Guy with The Intense Seagull Eyes is Hoshiumi Kourai; Goatee Guy is Heiwajima Toshiro; and Bowl Cut guy is Shibahara Aki, Adlers' rookie setter. The dining table isn't big enough to hold eight professional volleyball players, so they move the couch aside and eat cross-legged on the tatami mat, forming a circle around the homemade food courtesy of the Hinatas. It kind of reminds Shouyou of the potluck parties he and his friends in high school used to throw every summer and winter, only he isn't sure if there's enough food for everyone.

"This is delicious," Hoshiumi tells Shouyou. There's rice stuck to his chin. "What's in this curry bowl? It's like it's made of magic!"

"No magic," Shouyou says, feeling a bit proud. "Just lots of practice."

Beaming, Romero raises his fist, and Shouyou meets it with his own.

"It's a match made in heaven," Sokolov remarks wryly, as Heiwajima titters beside him. "'Cause Tobio can't cook to save his life, did you know? And yet he's always the first one to complain about our team dinners tasting like overcooked crap."

Shouyou laughs lightly and does a quick glance at the glowering but silent Kageyama. "My grandmother's actually very dedicated to teaching him, so he's learning a fair bit." He grins. "He's pretty terrible though with a knife—he even chops cheese so unevenly, Gran was in hysterics—but it's great! At least I'm sure he ain't got the skills to use it against me anytime soon."

Ushijima cracks a smile, while the rest of the Adlers laugh.

"If he threatens you multiple times with death and violence, that's when you know. You've already unlocked that sacred, high-level friendship status with Kageyama-san," Hirugami attests.

Heiwajima grins, expression mischievous. "Hinata-san isn't even at that level anymore." He then asks Hinata, "How was it, romancing our adorable, ill-tempered setter? Or did he put the moves on you first?"

Sokolov scoffs mightily. "No way Tobio's got the necessary equipment for that. I'm willing to bet my f*cking left leg that Hinata-san's doing all the heavy lifting." He winks at Shouyou. "Look at how much I have faith in you already. Be extremely touched."

Kageyama clears his throat, glaring daggers at Sokolov. "You didn't answer my question earlier," he says. It's the first time he spoke ever since they gathered in the room. "How did you find me?"

"You do realize you have other people looking out for you. Not just us." Sokolov snorts as he swirls the ramen noodles with his chopsticks. "Your mom told us. You worried her sick."

"You shouldn't be making your mom worry so much, Kageyama," Hoshiumi chides. "That ain't manly at all."

Kageyama looks stunned. "You... you asked my mother about me?"

"Dude, you just disappeared from the face of the earth without telling us! You were screening our calls and your apartment was stone cold. What do you think we should've done?"

"I heard you told Coach and management where you are, but they wouldn't tell us anything. Said to leave you alone for a while," Hirugami says. "Then Romero-san and Ushijima-san called us up yesterday, so this was all a last-minute thing, really."

Sokolov laughs at Kageyama's pinched face. "That means we won't be staying long, so don't worry. We've only got the clothes on our backs, and my wife's going to kill me if I'm not home by nine."

"Your biggest fan came to see you, too!" Hoshiumi says, and Shibahara, who's got his eyes trained on his rice bowl, blushes fiercely at the statement.

Kageyama is overwhelmed, Shouyou can tell. There's that tightness at the ends of his mouth, his hands curled into firm fists over his thighs. He bows, black hair completely hiding his face. "Thank you," Kageyama mutters hoarsely.

"You're going to have to tell us everything about your year-long getaway, as punishment," Sokolov says, trying to brighten up the mood that had suddenly turned somber. "Don't leave any details out."

Kageyama nods at his plate of pork curry, gaze unfocused. Shouyou twirls his pinkie around Kageyama's free hand, and watches as Kageyama's frown eases a little.

Romero, with his broken Japanese, eventually reminds everyone of the family-sized pizza lying forgotten somewhere in the kitchen, the slices now probably as cold as a pig's snout.

Romero's white family van has only enough space for the seven Adlers and a cooler for drinks and frozen unagi. Hoshiumi enthusiastically bids Shouyou goodbye and exchanges numbers, telling him not to hesitate to call if the need arises.

"Next time I come over, I want to see you jump," Hoshiumi also says. "Kageyama says you've got some mean jumping legs on you, and you know how hard it is to impress that guy."

"Oh," Shouyou stutters, but recovers quickly. "Sure thing! You're an awesome all-around player, Hoshiumi-san! So it means a whole lot coming from you!"

Hoshiumi turns pleased, flushing with pride. "Ha! I really am, aren't I?" he says. "If Kageyama asks, tell him I'm your favorite player. See if it messes with him."

Sokolov laughs, overhearing their conversation. "If you ever come to Sendai, ring us up too and we'll give you free tickets to our games," he tells Shouyou as he loads the cooler in the back.

"Thank you, Sokie-san!"

A deep-toned, rumbling voice calls from behind him. "Hinata Shouyou."

Shouyou whirls around, startled to find Ushijima gesturing for them to talk alone behind the van. Shouyou breaks into sweat. He can't read Ushijima's expression, and he's freakishly tall and well-built.

"Is everything okay, Ushijima-san?" Shouyou prompts, when Ushijima does nothing but stand before him wordlessly.

Ushijima frowns minutely, before giving Shouyou a ninety-degree bow.

"Uh—"

"Thank you very much for taking care of Kageyama-san for us," Ushijima says when he surfaces.

"Oh, uh. You're welcome?" Shouyou says. "But it's not really... He came all this way, and I just—I wanted to be his friend—and Kageyama was cool about it, you know? He goes along with whatever I wanna do even though I must've bugged him a lot. S'really more because of him. Not because I did much, so."

"Nevertheless," Ushijima responds evenly. "Kageyama-san is a prized player of ours, and we wouldn't have been as good a team as we are all these years without him. Him being well enough to be able to see and speak to us is good for the team. Also." He quirks a tiny smile. "As his friend, it's nice to see him be comfortable with someone outside his family and the team, after all that's happened."

Kageyama really has a lot of good people around him. Shouyou wills away the growing tightness in his chest, feeling oddly stricken. "It must've been hard on everyone," he mumbles.

Ushijima shrugs. "It's part of playing the game we love. I've known Kageyama since we were in high school. I don't think I've ever met anyone who wouldn't hesitate to give up anything just to play in every game." He nods again at Shouyou. "I heard he's playing volleyball again with some of your friends in the neighborhood. So, like I said. We owe a lot to you, Hinata Shouyou-san."

"Don't mention it," Shouyou says. "I do all sorts of crazy things for the ones I love, too."

Ushijima smiles, the ends of his lips quirking higher this time. "He looks better. He should spend a few more weeks here."

Shouyou hears the words left unsaid: And come back, and be better than ever. He tries not to dwell too much on the thought and musters a smile back.

Ushijima bows again and hands a sheet of paper. It's his cellphone number and the team's contact details, carefully handwritten. "Please keep in touch," he says quietly, raising his hand in goodbye.

Shouyou waves back. "I will!"

Two days after the Adlers' visit, it's Kageyama Mayaka who's standing in front of the Iwasawa residence, a scarlet red luggage in hand. Her arrival stirs Satomori into wakefulness, the villagers greeting her like the dearest of friends and asking about her like a stranger. She's two years shy from fifty, but Shouyou swears she looks a decade younger than anyone he knows are in their forties, with her short, glossy black hair and elegant air. But her eyes—a deep ocean blue, the same shade as Kageyama's—tell a different story; cool yet gently weathered, they look like they belong to someone who's seen ghosts of all kinds.

She visits Shouyou's place with her son the following day, and they have tea and spiced tuna on rice for brunch. Kageyama is a little meek and a lot more polite around his mother, but acts more or less the same as he has with the Hinatas. Mayaka has a lot of stories to share about young Kageyama and his forays with volleyball and school, and Shouyou is very much an engaged audience.

"Oh, he was a lot more uptight when he was younger," Mayaka says not unkindly. She cards her fingers through her son's hair, who only shifts away slightly. "I'm glad you met Tobio when he's already mellowed out a bit. He would've gotten on your nerves so much if you two were classmates."

Shouyou grins at her. "For sure," he says cheerfully. "We would've been sworn enemies."

"Oh! Has he told you about the time he got in trouble for demanding the vice principal to exempt him from taking remedial classes? Just so he could attend a practice match in Tokyo?"

"He hasn't," Shouyou says in mock solemnity. He pours her another cup of assam tea.

Mayaka laughs and then launches another spiel, egging on Shouyou to make fun of her son with her. Shouyou complies, cackling and remarking smartly at all the right parts of her stories. Kageyama sips his own tea and watches them talk, eyes flicking back and forth placidly.

"I told my mom about us," Kageyama says to him once Mayaka excuses herself to the bathroom.

Shouyou figured. She was looking at him with intense interest ever since they met outside Shouyou's house. "How'd she take it?" Is she angry? She didn't seem like it, but maybe she's only being polite.

"She said it would take some time to get used to." Kageyama grimaces. "She wants a grandchild, so she's still holding out hope I'd end up with some girl."

Shouyou almost makes a joke about it not being too late to get a girlfriend, but he stops himself in time. Kageyama gets extra angry at any insinuation of them breaking up, even if it's obvious that Shouyou's completely kidding.

Kageyama sighs deeply. "That was okay. Right?"

"Yeah, definitely. We did say we should do this properly. You did good, Kageyama."

Kageyama leans back, palm flat on the floor. One side of his mouth curls up afterwards.

Mayaka comes back at this moment, peering at their silent exchange, before taking her seat and smiling softly at Shouyou.

Before dinner, Mayaka drops by at the Hinatas and offers to help Shouyou in the kitchen. Shouyou suspects Kageyama told her about his previous wish of getting precious critique from the grand queen herself. He ushers her in, excited and exceedingly nervous, not wanting to disappoint her.

"My child is so spoiled by you," Mayaka says as she sits on the chair Shouyou brought by to the counter. "Imagine eating like a king each day."

"We made a deal when he came here." Shouyou steps on the stool and reaches for the soy sauce and sake. "Looking back, I was more or less bribing him, really."

"What's the deal about?"

"I said I'd cook for him whenever he wants if he hangs out with me."

"That doesn't sound so fair."

Shouyou's surprised into a laugh. "Kageyama said the exact same thing, actually!" he shares. "But I think his company's worth a hundred buckets full of Mishima beef, so it's more than fair, actually!"

Mayaka stares straight at him, as if what Shouyou said is news to her. She then chuckles, a delicate hand over her mouth. "I've often heard of my son being described in the context of meat, but not like this."

By the time Shouyou's gotten to glazing the unagi, Mayaka stands next to him, tasting the eel meat. Whatever adjustments she thinks would make the dish taste better, Shouyou writes it down on a fresh page of his notebook.

"You cook really well," Mayaka says. "Like really well. And with no formal training? That's very impressive."

"Thank you, Kageyama-san!"

"Have you ever thought of expanding your family's business? You could get yourself a good place in Sendai. I know a few people who can help you."

Shouyou smiles shyly. "I've thought about expanding, but I don't really want to leave this place, so it's not something I've considered. Plus, I have to take care of Gran." He shrugs. "I just like cooking."

"You sure do," Mayaka mutters, eyeing the moon milk recipe. She then looks up and smiles. "I think you're all set, Shouyou-kun. Let's eat."

This time, Mayaka tells Shouyou more about herself and the shared history of the Hinatas and the Iwasawas. Her family used to be merchants in Satomori, making a fortune out of buying and selling sugar. They're one of the wealthier, well-respected families in Satomori, and perhaps the whole of Kamiyama, which made it strange when the Iwasawas built their ancestral home so close to the reviled, mysterious Hinatas. Mayaka divulges that it was because the head of the Iwasawa family back then, her great-great-great aunt, Iwasawa Kana, had admired a Hinata, a handsome, mild-mannered peach farmer with fiery red hair named Rikuto.

Obviously, the love affair had resulted in nothing, for Kana was already promised to another man, a wealthy sugar trader who could help expand the family business. But during the turn of the new century, Satomori was no longer the epicenter of sugar production in Kamiyama, and the Iwasawas descended to near poverty. In the 1980s, the rest of Mayaka's siblings and extended family had already fled to the cities and started a new life. She initially had no plans of leaving Satomori, desiring to be the final bastion of the Iwasawas, but then she met Kageyama Kaito, who was staying in town for a few days.

"It was love at first sight," Mayaka says with a soft, embarrassed laugh. "But don't tell Tobio I said that. I always wanted him to be sensible in choosing who he wants to be with."

"But you chose well." That much is evident.

Mayaka smiles. "I really did. And our love gave us our greatest treasure ever." She leans over the table and grasps Shouyou's hand. "Tobio may not be a man who expresses himself well with words, but we showered him with a lot of love and praise, and raised him as best as we can." She squeezes Shouyou's fingers. "I hope that my son has been giving you as much affection as we tried to impart to him."

"He has. He always has," Shouyou murmurs, and Mayaka removes her hand. "He's not..." He swallows. "Kageyama's not exactly okay now, is he?"

Mayaka's smile turns sadder. "He's better now than he was before. Way better. You should've seen him the last two years. We almost thought we lost him." She shakes her head, tapping her cup with her index finger. "It's funny. My son's emotional growth has always lagged behind his physical capabilities. But he's doing so well here. It might not look like it, but I've never seen Tobio so happy in such a long time. And I can't help but think, what if in those two years he spent in abject misery in Tokyo, I should have made him spend it here instead? What if I had never left this town in the first place and raised him here? Would he have been healthier? Happier?"

Shouyou looks around frantically for a box of napkins, but they're all out. He spots the rolls of towelettes near the fruit basket, takes a couple of them and hands them to Mayaka.

She takes one gratefully and blows her nose on it. "I'm terribly sorry for that," she croaks out when she recovers.

"Don't be," Shouyou says. He feels like crying himself.

They stay silent for a while, consumed by their own thoughts, until Shouyou speaks, "Kageyama-san. I'm glad."

Mayaka turns her attention to him swiftly. "Hmm?"

"Everything that happened, I'm glad it did," Shouyou says. "From your great aunt to you deciding to raise Kageyama in Sendai. If all that hadn't happened, Kageyama wouldn't have volleyball." He smiles with all his teeth. "Your son's greatest love is volleyball, isn't it? I can't even imagine him without it. That's why he came here and is trying to get better, because he loves it so much. So I'm glad, because you gave that kind of hope to him."

Mayaka rips open another towelette and dabs under her eyes. She sniffles twice and says, "I've always liked the weather here. Not as extreme as in Sendai, or as changeable like in Tokyo. Maybe sugar canes have long since stopped growing properly here, but the people are always able to dust themselves off and keep going."

"We've got rice now," Shouyou chirps, and Mayaka laughs.

"Rice indeed grows well here now, among other things," she says.

Shouyou smiles at his teacup. "Things grow in suitable soil. Someone wise told me that, when I was wandering the hillside."

"I can tell you're surrounded by kind, wise people."

"Yeah." He then looks up at Mayaka, morphing his expression into something more earnest. "I like your son very much," Shouyou declares. "So I'll gladly support anything that'll get him back to doing what he loves. I—I won't get in his way from achieving that."

Mayaka goes silent, and then sighs. "From the looks of it, Tobio doesn't want to leave this place any more than you do," she says. "I didn't come here to convince him to come back. But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't... surprised. At the strength of his feelings for you. His attachment to this place." Her eyes shine with fresh, unshed tears. "Now that I finally had the chance to speak to you alone, I think I can understand a little.

"Tobio's grown up now. It's been so long since I had to choose for him. I just hope that with you helping him, being there with him, my son will arrive at the best decision."

Shouyou bobs his head, and Mayaka places her palms over his again. Her hands are very warm, just like her son's.

December 22, 2024
Winter

On the morning of Kageyama's birthday, snow starts falling.

From eight in the morning to three in the afternoon, Shouyou's out delivering food. Some of the villagers are aware of the day's significance, and so Shouyou goes home with a sack of daikon, a plastic container filled with natto, a dead, unplucked chicken, and five zip-top bags of frozen blueberries in the back of his truck. As he drives home, he thinks of what he should make for Kageyama's dinner party, especially now that he's got contributions from all around town. Yokohito had boasted he got Kageyama the best chicken he had in his coop.

"Oh!" Shouyou exclaims as he parks his truck. As he jumps out of the driver's seat, he dials Kenma's number.

"Is this about Kageyama Tobio-san?" Kenma's voice drawls from the receiver before Shouyou could get a word in edgewise.

Shouyou's jaw slacks. "How did you—"

"It's his birthday today." Kenma yawns, making the line crackle. "I remember. You keep saying."

Shouyou loosens his scarf, coughing awkwardly. "Right. Sorry for disturbing you."

"It's fine. I'm working from home today. Why did you call?"

"I was just wondering... Do you remember that fancy bread you brought here when you visited last time?"

"Ahh." Then Kenma says some foreign words that Shouyou can't pronounce.

"What? Come again?"

Kenma repeats it.

"Gou—" Shouyou's tongue twists uncomfortably in his mouth. "G-gou—re?"

Kenma laughs under his breath. "I'll text you. It's a French puff pastry from the bakery Kuro likes. You want to make it for Kageyama-san?"

"Yeah! Yours had strawberries in it, right?"

"Mhmm."

"Alright. Thanks!"

"Happy birthday to Kageyama-san."

"I'll tell him that! Take care, Kenma!"

"Bye, Shouyou." Kenma hangs up.

It takes a while to carry all the stuff from his truck into the kitchen, and it takes twice as long to pluck the chicken completely and soak in the marinade. When he's done, he checks his phone. Not only did Kenma send him the name, he sent him the entire recipe. Blueberry galette. Shouyou snickers. It's real fancy, alright. Quite fitting for royalty.

He scrolls through the ingredient list. He's got everything save for the lemon juice. That makes him pause for a while, then he scours the cabinets for anything he can use as a substitute. He's debating with himself over using cider vinegar when Grandma comes to the kitchen with a loud sigh.

"You're banging the doors so loudly, my sweet. It's giving me a headache," Grandma says. "You can use the vinegar in smaller quantities."

Shouyou smiles at her gratefully. "Thanks, Gran!"

She looks over Shouyou's shoulder, reading the recipe on the screen. "Instead of two cups of berries, add in one and a third more," she instructs.

"Okay!"

Grandma cackles."Oh, just look at how fired up you are. Alright, then, I'll leave you to it. Send all my love to the Kageyamas."

"You're not going?"

"Only if you people will allow me to drink whatever I want in this cold weather. If not, then what's the point?"

Shouyou laughs. "Maybe you can drink a teeny tiny bit of rice wine. Maybe."

Grandma snorts and waves her hand listlessly at him.

When Kageyama opens the door and lets him inside, it takes a while for Shouyou to notice something different. "Where's your mom?" he asks Kageyama. "I thought she'd be eating with us today."

"She's not."

"What?" Shouyou exclaims, almost dropping the roasted chicken on the floor. He motions to all the food he's set on the table. "But—but I made all this stuff!"

Kageyama shrugs. "I don't know. Said she wanted to have drinks with your grandmother. Just the two of them."

Shouyou narrows his eyes at him. Kageyama's tone was way too level to be considered unsuspicious. "What did she say exactly?" he questions.

At that, Kageyama's embarrassment begins to roll in waves. He kneels before the table and places chopsticks on either side. "She said that I should spend the night with you, since I already spent most of the morning with her." His shoulders then rise and he shouts, "It wasn't my idea!"

Shouyou puts his hands up. "I know, jeez. I wasn't saying anything." Kageyama's earlier conversation with his mom must've been something, alright.

"Aren't you cold?" Kageyama snaps, glowering at Shouyou's white cotton shirt as if its existence offended him greatly.

"Not really. Your heater's on, isn't it?"

"That can't be enough." Kageyama takes the black wool sweater on his couch and throws it haphazardly at Shouyou's face. "Bundle up, dumbass. I don't want you sniveling all over my mom's house."

Shouyou huffs, putting the sweater on. "I'm not like you, Gramps. I can handle a little chill." He pouts at the food. "Man, your mom's so cruel. How are we going to eat all of this?" There's roasted chicken, hot pot, natto with rice, and all the vegetable side dishes. Plus, there's the blueberry pastry that Shouyou's keeping hidden in a black cardboard box.

"We'll manage," Kageyama says, before sitting next to him and smashing his lips against Shouyou's unsuspecting mouth.

"Kageyama," Shouyou mumbles in between shallow intakes of breath.

"Mhmm?"

"The food will get cold."

"Yeah." To his credit, Kageyama attempts to sound a bit concerned. He swipes his hands under Shouyou's jawline and kisses him fervently again.

Shouyou places his palm on Kageyama's neck, delighted to find the pulse there leaping under his touch. "Happy birthday," he says, breathless.

Kageyama grunts, and kisses Shouyou some more.

When they finally get to eat (and finish everything, much to Shouyou's amazement), he gives Kageyama his birthday present. Kageyema's face does something indescribable when he takes off the lid of the box—Shouyou almost regrets not pulling out his phone and taking a video of the whole exchange. But he does make sure that he'll have something to look back on; he mentally catalogs the way Kageyama's eyes have gone all misty before pulling Shouyou closer by his sweater, and the sweet taste of blueberries bursting in his mouth.

Mayaka leaves the next day, when the snow has started to pick up, her corduroy coat as conspicuously red as her luggage. Kageyama offers to drive her to the bus terminal, where Kageyama's dad would be waiting, but his mother firmly declines. She wants to take her time leaving this place.

Kageyama doesn't shed a tear, but he does melt easily into the embrace his mother gives him. Shouyou watches as she touches Kageyama's cheek once, and walks into the snowy path without a backward glance.

Shouyou can't pinpoint the exact time it started, but he's now realizing that he and Kageyama seem to be spending almost every waking moment with each other. Kageyama's with him when he makes deliveries even outside of Satomori, and he even stays the night in Shouyou's room despite the futon being far too small, making sleeping with each other almost intolerable. Fortunately, Grandma's refraining from commenting about it, but the concerned glances she gives Shouyou whenever he sets off for work are hard to ignore.

He noticed something was different about Kageyama's behavior when one time, in early January, he started knocking on Shouyou's door, as if they hadn't said their goodbyes only minutes ago. As soon as Shouyou slid the shutters open, Kageyama drew him into his arms and pulled him in a very tight embrace—it was a little embarrassing since Grandma Eiko was in the tatami room, watching them with a melancholy look on her face.

There was an air of desperation in the way Kageyama had clung to him, and Shouyou didn't know what to do but to cling back until it made it hard for them to breathe, twin emotions fusing and amplifying each other.

Kageyama also says very little when they're together, content with listening to Shouyou talk about anything, or watching Shouyou as he listlessly cooks breakfast for them in his pajamas. Looking at Kageyama has always made him feel happy or annoyed, sometimes frustrated or aroused, but now, it makes Shouyou sad, too.

Before all of this began, Shouyou had wanted to ask his grandmother whether Kageyama belonged with him. Now, he's ultimately decided that he won't ever broach the topic with her. It's something the two of them can figure out on their own, and he's certain they don't need spirit guardian magic to find out where their future lies ahead.

"It's going to be fine," Shouyou murmurs against Kageyama's mouth. They're currently lying in Shouyou's futon, almost every part of them touching. It's hot and uncomfortable, though Shouyou wants to lie down this way for a while. The sensation will make this moment harder to forget. "You just have to tell me things, okay? Especially when you feel like this. And I'll tell you everything, even the horrible stuff."

Kageyama responds, "You already tell me everything."

"I can tell you more." Shouyou traces Kageyama's lips with his own. "I don't want to hide anything from you. Though..." He chuckles. "S'not like you can't tell, anyway."

Kageyama wraps his hands around Shouyou's sweaty neck and melds their mouths together, soft and saccharine sweet. "I don't... I don't want us to ever break up," he confesses once they pull away, his voice scratchy with trepidation.

Shouyou nods. "Okay. I won't ever bring that up," he says. "You can't either."

"I'll never." Kageyama sighs, the tightness in the expression he's been holding for weeks finally starts slipping away, like sand against the rolling ocean waves.

Shouyou laughs under his breath, toes curling and clutching at the sheets. "I'm pretty sure about you, Kageyema-kun." He places his thumbs at the end of Kageyama's lips, before turning them up playfully. "I'm super mega awesomely happy that you feel the same. What were the chances, right?"

Kageyama seems like he wants to talk, so Shouyou takes his fingers away. "The chances were high," he then mutters. "We're extremely compatible."

Shouyou colors. "That was a rhetorical question." He places his thumbs back, beaming. "I'm not gonna argue against that, though."

Kageyama cups Shouyou's warm cheeks, as if in retaliation. "You really can't," he says.

February 10, 2025
Winter

Kageyama finally gets his hair cut. Shouyou's pestered him for weeks about it, insisting that he can't go back to Tokyo looking like a caveman. "What would your team say?" Shouyou had asked. "Your fans say? Look, we've got Satomori's reputation to uphold here. They'd think you got marooned to some seedy dumpster town."

"If I get my hair cut, you should, too." Even though they've talked about it, Kageyama still insisted to do a lot of stupid things together.

They're now sitting on pumped-up chairs in the salon, their eyes trained upwards at the television showing a rerun of a popular teen drama that aired last year.

Takahashi-san, the barber working on Kageyama's hair, is smirking at the reflection of the screen on the mirror. "He's definitely shagging his best friend's girlfriend," he comments to no one in particular. "That look he sent her? That's just textbook."

One of the patrons who Shouyou doesn't recognize makes a disgruntled noise. "You guessed right. I'd know, since I actually watched that crap with my youngest daughter," he says. "Well, I did like that the best friend ended up with a nice girl, but the mother-in-law was very unreasonable."

Aoyagi-san shears off a good amount of Shouyou's orange hair, making them unravel like sun rays. "I can't believe you just spoiled us the important bits! Most of us young 'uns haven't watched it yet." He laughs, nudging Shouyou. "Aren't I right, Shouyou-kun? Kageyama-san? Weren't we too busy this past year to watch some godawful teen show?"

Shouyou glances at Kageyama, and is pleased to find the other man looking straight back. "We really were," Shouyou answers honestly.

The man rolls his eyes at them, smiling all the while.

When Aoyagi and Takahashi are done with them, Shouyou almost doesn't recognize himself in the mirror. He looks skinnier without the long hair falling at the sides of his face, his jaw more angular, his eyes brighter. He peers at Kageyama, who's looking at his own reflection and appears to be having the same thoughts. They then stare at each other wordlessly for a moment.

It's quite incredible, how much can happen in a year.

"Wow," Shouyou says to Kageyama. "You know, you're really pretty for a guy." Kageyama's face is undoubtedly strong and masculine, but apparently, he's got a lot of delicate features hiding behind his bangs, like the slope of his nose, and the soft curl of his eyelashes. "If you weren't already a volleyball player, maybe you could've been a model or something."

"He is pretty tall," Takahashi intones, crossing his arms and looking proudly at his work.

Kageyama huffs and flicks Shouyou's now vulnerable ear.

He hadn't brought a lot of clothes with him when he came to Satomori, but Kageyama's trunk is filled to the brim with knick-knacks and containers of raw meat and seafood, farewell gifts from neighbors and friends. There's hardly any space now for his belongings. It takes Shouyou and Kageyama's combined brainpower to make sure everything fits, the whole process taking them around four hours to complete.

The next morning, there's a small crowd gathering in front of the Iwasawa home. Kageyama hands back Michuzi's bike and bows, though she ignores that and tearfully hugs Kageyama. After everyone's said their goodbyes, with Matsuda and Yokohito having the lengthiest speeches, they leave Shouyou and Kageyama alone beside the car. Grandma Eiko grasps both of their hands before she turns away, padding slowly back to her own house.

"Stupid," Shouyou says, holding up the box of dried persimmons. "You forgot these."

Kageyama takes it and places it gently on the driver seat. He then glances back at Shouyou, looking terribly unsure, before he opens his arms.

Like clockwork, Shouyou's throat tightens, and he launches himself at Kageyama. The side of his face smashes against Kageyama's shoulder, the impact strong enough to press Kageyama up against his car.

Everything inside Shouyou is clenching painfully that he can't breathe, he can't cry, he can't do anything but grip tightly at the seams of Kageyama's jacket. Kageyama clutches at Shouyou's sides, hard enough to leave bruises. Everything feels too cold and too warm.

Oh god, Shouyou thinks. He doesn't want Kageyama to leave.

But Kageyama has to, and they promised. All the things that happened the previous year had been leading up to this, but it's not the end. It's merely them taking a step towards something more, something better.

As long as Kageyama's out there in the world, Shouyou will never be alone.

"I just want you to know," Kageyama whispers. "That you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

"Me too," Shouyou whispers back. "And volleyball?"

"I love you just as much," Kageyama says easily.

That wasn't the answer Shouyou expected, but it does succeed in making him finally burst to tears. He can now breathe again.

He really doesn't want to let Kageyama go, but he has to, and so he does. "I love you, too," Shouyou says. "Eat well and stay healthy, okay?"

Kageyama kisses him fiercely, achingly, one last time, before he enters his car and turns on the ignition. Shouyou stays and watches until it becomes a dark blip, very far away, in the snowy landscape.

February 13, 2025
Winter

It's a quarter 'til midnight, but Shouyou's still up. He's making cabbage soup for himself, famished after shoveling the snow that blanketed the driveways and fixing the frozen water pipes in the house that were already thick to bursting. When he blearily opens the lid of the pot, the steam puffing out hits him squarely on the face and jolts him awake.

The corner drawer feels strangely heavier than usual when he tries to open it for a ceramic bowl. He pulls with added force and peeks down.

He's surprised to find black leatherbound notebooks instead—nine of them, some in better condition than the others. It's a good thing he found these first; his grandmother will scold him to death if she ever saw these, all stacked precariously on top of the heirloom bowls.

Shouyou takes them out and aligns them in a neat tower over the counter, fairly certain that none of them are his recipe notebooks. He flips through one of them, and immediately realizes what they are, and whom they belong to.

They're Kageyama's volleyball journals. They don't have a name, but there's no one else Shouyou knows who's obsessed enough with the sport to sketch sixteen pages worth of diagrams, with detailed descriptions of his teammates' and opponents' playing styles.

Why did Kageyama leave them here without telling him?

Definitely awake now, Shouyou decides to eat his cabbage soup first before it congeals into a textureless blob of wet vegetables. As soon as he's done, he brings all of the journals with him to the backyard and opens the lamps on the decks. He sits on the rug and flips through the topmost one from the stack.

It's Kageyama's middle school journal. There are more drawings than actual sentences, which is a good thing, because most of them are hardly legible. He can only make out a few phrases: Best setter, spiker, people that like me, enemies, stupid nicknames and king of the court.

"Jeez. What the heck is this handwriting?" Shouyou thought Kageyama had good finger muscles.

The third notebook on the stack is Kageyama's high school journal. It's wordier than the middle school one, and significantly more methodical.

I tried to trick the blockers by shifting my stance the last minute on the third set when Tanaka-san received a rogue ball with his elbow. Didn't work, Kageyama had written on the sixteenth of November, 2013. They knew I was going to toss to him back instead of dump.

Shouyou can tell that his high school team—Karasuno High—had been a good fit for Kageyama. Kageyama had liked them enough to write that he wanted to win more games with them, even long after he graduated.

As a professional player, Kageyama had a more expansive vocabulary, though his handwriting was still atrocious. He wrote effusively about the Rio Olympics, and his disappointment of not bringing home the gold. He also drew diagrams of the certain plays he did in some of his World Championship appearances, both the successful ones and the flubs.

Shouyou's hand freezes when he reads the entry from January 7, 2021: Something's wrong. All my brain scans turned out fine, but there's something wrong. I can tell.

He flips the next page. Kageyama had written: I puked all over the kitchen sink as soon as I woke up. I can't see straight and it hurts to look at the lights directly. My head is pounding all the time. My shoulder feels like it's going to fall off.

There's no entries for several months, until November 14, 2021. I can't play volleyball, Kageyama had written.

Kageyama couldn't write as regularly as he used to, afterwards. From December 20, 2021 to March 5, 2024, there are only four entries. Shouyou can almost hear Kageyama's voice saying those words, angry and curt.

December 20, 2021
Nothing's working.

January 9, 2022
I ate today. It tasted like sand.

November 11, 2023
I just slept.

March 5, 2024
My teammates came. I think I did something wrong, but I don't want to talk to them.

Shouyou opens the last notebook on the stack, and is surprised to find that the first entry was, Yatsuhashi tastes really good. It was dated March 21, 2024.

He sits up straighter, eyes bulging out of his sockets as he flips through the pages.

March 25, 2024
He fed me. He's always feeding me. I asked him how much I should pay him, but he didn't want anything. Is that okay? I'm not sure if it is.

March 26, 2024
He's a bad drunk.

May 7, 2024
Should I tell him?

May 30, 2024
I'm attracted to him, I think. I look at him and I feel funny.

June 13, 2024
I saw fireworks. It didn't hurt my eyes or my ears. It was nice.

June 21, 2024
That bastard confessed first. He's never going to let me live that down.

October 24, 2024
Someone saw us.

October 29, 2024
He asked me if I wanted to break up and I got angry. Really angry. But we didn't break up.

October 31, 2024
We saw a volleyball game.

November 17, 2024
I played volleyball with his friends.

November 26, 2024
I met his sister and her friends. He warned me about what she can do. But it was still weird experiencing it first-hand.

December 10, 2024
My teammates came to see me. They weren't too angry.

December 12, 2024
Mom came. Dad couldn't come. She says she's only staying until my birthday.

December 22, 2024
It's my birthday. Shouyou made me dinner and cake.

At the next entries, Shouyou's insides twist in profound sadness.

December 27, 2024
Shouyou can't ever hurt me, but I can hurt myself. If I leave, I'll break Shouyou's heart and mine. I don't want to leave.

January 3, 2025
I have to go.

Letting out a shaky breath, Shouyou turns the page. Pasted on one side, there's a print-out of an article taken from Horticulture & Farming: East Asian Fruits. He unfolds the whole thing and reads:

Growing Your Own Persimmons: Do It In Six Easy Steps

1. Deeply plow the soil and enrich with organic matter (i.e. leaves, manure) or fertilizer mixtures
2. Plant tree. Prune young trees back to 0.74 to 0.91 meters
3. Continue pruning during the first 4 to 5 winters
4. Flowers will begin to appear 3-4 years or 5-6 years after planting
5. After flowering, irrigate trees depending on soil consistency
6. Harvest in the fall and early winter

Kageyama had encircled step number three with red ink, and Shouyou laughs out loud, warmth now spreading all over his chest and keeping the sadness at bay.

On the next page, two addresses were hastily scribbled in deep, black ink, complete with postal codes. The first is for an apartment in Tokyo, and the other is for the one in Sendai. Shouyou's heart begins to pound, blood rushing loudly in his ears.

And, in his familiar chicken scratch, Kageyama had added: Send me letters. I'll write to you back.

Shouyou chuckles breathlessly, shaking his head. "Well, since you asked so nicely," he whispers to the wind as he stands up, legs prickling and shaking in anticipation. He resolves to drop by the goldfish store tomorrow and buy some postcards.

He gathers all of Kageyama's journals in his arms and keeps them close.