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Chapter Text

There was hardly more than a month in age between Takahiro and Issei, the former born at the end of January during a snowstorm, the latter making his appearance on the first day of March in that same year, with weather that was much more welcoming.

They met just a week after Issei’s birth, since their friendship had been planned long before they were each conceived. 

Misumi Hanamaki and Yuko Matsukawa were best friends, and not only did they purposely get pregnant around the same time, they had also talked their husbands into buying houses in the same neighborhood several years earlier.

The two women had grown up together, lived together after moving from Tokyo to Miyagi, and couldn’t stand the thought of being separated after getting married to their respective boyfriends. So their houses were on the same street, just like their childhood homes had been. That made it easy for them to spend quiet mornings and lazy afternoons together whenever Yuko didn’t have to work.

Issei was Yuko’s first living child, whereas Misumi already had a three-year-old daughter named Etsu when Takahiro was born. They had wanted to have their firstborns around the same time, but as fate would have it, it didn’t work out that way. 

When their sons were born, they were excited to finally have babies who were close in age. And when Yuko went back to work, which was when Issei was six months old, Misumi agreed to care for him during the day. She had the help of her mother, who lived with her family. That made watching over three young children a bit easier on her.

In the blink of an eye, Issei turned one, and he felt right at home with the Hanamaki family. He especially loved zooming around the first floor of their two-story home. Climbing the stairs was also a strong desire of his, though he wasn’t allowed to do that. From the time he first learned to walk at ten months old, he had been eager to explore his surroundings, getting into whatever he could reach. 

“Slow down, you little rascal,” Misumi said, catching Issei and picking him up. He had been heading for the stairs for the fifth time in the last fifteen minutes.

Despite his wriggling, she carried him back into the living room. 

He grabbed two handfuls of her long hair, which was a rich auburn, much like her late father’s had been. She was only half Japanese, and the main things that gave it away were her hair and her above average height. Both of her children had pinkish-red highlights in their light brown hair, taking after her in that way.  

“I need to start wearing my hair up,” Misumi muttered, trying to get Issei to release his hold on her hair.

He loved looking at it, and whenever he could, he would catch fistfulls of it. Sometimes he just held it and examined it, but there were also times he would yank it.

This was one of those times.

Issei had a very strong grip for such a small baby, having been born premature with a low birth weight. He was still rather slim. But regardless of that, he had a lot of strength and determination. 

Once she was finally free from Issei’s little fingers, Misumi set him down near the couch. 

But then he immediately ran out of the room and headed for the stairs. She went after him once again, wanting him to stay away from there.

She almost always had help with the children, but her mother wasn’t feeling well and was currently resting upstairs. That meant Misumi was on her own. A second set of hands and eyes, or lack thereof, really made a world of difference. 

Even though Issei had only been walking for just under three months, he was already quick at getting around, unlike Takahiro, whose five week age advantage didn’t pay off for him in terms of mobility. 

Takahiro was a delightfully chubby baby, and he liked to take in his surroundings in a leisurely way, with an expression that made it seem like he was up to no good. It was his gummy smile, surrounded by dimples and coated in mischief, that made him seem that way. And whenever he wanted something, Issei would get it for him. He was in no hurry to be up and about himself. He couldn’t walk yet, and the only time he ever crawled around was if Issei wasn’t there to fetch things, or if he had to escape from his incredibly assertive four-year-old sister, who had no concept of being gentle with those younger than herself.

She was always getting into his personal space.

“I’m hungry,” Etsu announced, coming into the room and making a beeline towards Takahiro, subjecting him to one of her forceful hugs. Then she wrinkled her nose and let him go. “Ew, he’s stinky!”

“I’ll make food soon,” Misumi said, going over to pick Takahiro up after setting Issei down. She checked his diaper and carried him towards the changing table, which was near the bathroom, within sight of the stairs. “Play with Issei for me, will you? I don’t want him going upstairs.”

“Kay!” Etsu waited for her mother to leave the room, turning around once she was out of sight. Then she pulled a permanent marker out of the front of her pants and went over to Issei, who was trying to climb onto the couch. “Wanna look pretty?”

Issei turned to stare at her, not fully understanding what she was saying. But he was a friendly baby, so regardless of that, he smiled and nodded enthusiastically. 

Etsu uncapped the marker and began drawing on Issei’s face, going right for his eyebrows. He already had particularly thick ones for a baby, and they would probably grow even thicker and darker as he got older. But after Etsu was done with them, they had doubled in height, now having an angle that made him look surprised.

She started to add a mustache above his upper lip.

“Eh-chan! Stop that right now!” Misumi had just come back into the room, and after setting Takahiro down near the other two children, she quickly took the marker from Etsu’s hand.

“I was just making him look pretty,” Etsu whimpered, looking like she might cry. Soon she burst into tears, running over to Takahiro, who was once again pulled into a rough hug.

The sound of them both crying filled the room after that.

“Crap, this isn’t the washable kind,” Misumi grumbled as she put the marker out of reach, leaving it high on a shelf. 

Then she rescued Takahiro from Etsu’s death grip, comforting him and moving him to the floor in front of the couch, right next to where Issei was still standing. After that, she sat on the floor in front of Etsu, intending to help her calm down before lecturing her about the appropriate time and place for using markers. 

However, the sound of uncontrollable giggling made Etsu stop crying, drawing both her and Misumi’s attention over to where the two babies were staring at each other. 

Takahiro had seen Issei’s marker-covered face, finding it hilarious. So he started giggling, which made Issei giggle as well, with both of them holding their bellies, eventually toppling over onto their backs once they lost their balance. The two of them couldn’t stop themselves from letting out the kind of laugh that babies were so good at making. The kind that was contagious, easily causing anyone in the area to join in, or at least crack a smile. 

And of course, Misumi smiled, quickly getting up to grab her camcorder so that she could capture the moment on video. She always did her best to record things that Issei’s mother would enjoy seeing when she came to pick him up at the end of the day.

Luck was on Etsu’s side. She didn’t get too harsh a scolding for drawing on Issei’s face, because her mother became too distracted with what the two babies were doing. By the time everyone had calmed down, Misumi needed to get lunch ready, so the marker transgression was forgiven and forgotten after just a few admonishing words.

Later that evening, when Yuko came to pick Issei up, Misumi let her see the video. She loved it. From then on, it became one of their favorite things to show off to family members. No one could watch it without smiling. 

Age 2

It was a cool day in April, and Issei was with his parents at a local park, which was filled with cherry blossoms. They had gone there to have a picnic together. Not far from the blanket they were sitting on, there was a pond that had ducks swimming across the surface. Issei had been watching them curiously as he ate his lunch. 

“Would you like to get closer to those?” Mr. Matsukawa asked, having noticed where his son was staring. 

Issei nodded, putting down the rice ball he was working on. He had already finished most of it.

Mr. Matsukawa stood up and reached for Issei’s shoes, slipping them on for him, and getting his own shoes on afterwards. Then he took him by the hand and led him towards the tranquil body of water, squatting down beside him once they were right at the edge. It was shallow there at the shore of the pond, and when looking into the water, one could easily see little fish moving around. But the ducks swimming all around drew more attention than what was under the surface. 

“Those are called ducks,” Mr. Matsukawa said, pointing at the brown-feathered birds. 

“Ducks,” Issei repeated. He flashed a toothy grin and shouted, “Hi, ducks!”

The ducks were startled by his voice, so they began to swim away, going towards the center of the pond. It wasn’t a particularly large body of water. If someone were to row a boat across it, they would make it to the other side in less than five minutes. But it was still a beautiful place that was surrounded by trees and grass.

“Bye-bye, ducks,” Issei called out, waving both of his hands. 

A single cherry blossom petal from the tree above Issei landed on his shoulder, and he noticed it from the corner of his eye. So he reached for it, holding it close to his face to examine it, almost deciding to put it in his mouth. But he held it up for his father to see instead.

“That’s a flower petal,” Mr. Matsukawa remarked. “It’s pink.”

“Pink,” Issei echoed, bringing it close to his face again. “I like pink.”

“It’s a nice color,” Mr. Matsukawa agreed. Then he stood up, tugging on Issei’s hand. “Let’s go back to your mother and ask her what color she likes best.”

Issei eagerly went along to the picnic blanket, falling into his mother’s lap with open arms once his shoes were taken off. She caught him and smiled. 

“We’ve come to discover your favorite color,” Mr. Matsukawa said as he sat beside them. 

“You should already know that,” Yuko scolded playfully, moving a strand of her naturally wavy black hair away from her face. It reached just past her chin. She had cut it recently, but she already decided on growing it back out.

“I do know.” Mr. Matsukawa’s voice was calm, and he was smirking confidently. “It’s our son who’s curious.”

“Prove it,” Yuka ordered, pointing to her ear and raising an eyebrow. “Whisper it to me.”

Mr. Matsukawa leaned in and whispered the correct answer. Right afterwards, he kissed Yuko’s cheek, next to her ear. 

Issei had watched the interaction silently, and since he wanted his mother’s full attention, he pushed his father away from her. Both of his parents chuckled at that.

“Can’t your daddy show me some affection?” Yuko asked, her dark brown eyes twinkling with amusement.

“No,” Issei replied matter-of-factly. Then he remembered the pink flower petal, which was still pinched between his fingers. “What’s your color?”

Yuko hummed and tilted her head. “You mean my favorite color?”

Issei nodded, setting the flower petal on his mother’s leg. 

“It changes sometimes.” Yuko ran her fingers through Issei’s black hair, which was wavy like hers, though much shorter. “Most of the time, I’d say it’s green.”

“Green,” Issei repeated thoughtfully. Then he reached past the edge of the picnic blanket, pulling some grass from the ground. He gave that to his mother with a proud smile. 

“Wow,” Yuko said, holding up her little pile of grass with both hands. “You found something green. Good job, sweetheart.”

“Would you like to see more green things?” Mr. Matsukawa asked, holding his arms out towards Issei, who came to him willingly. 

Mr. Matsukawa carried Issei back to the edge of the pond, further away from where they had gone the last time. On the surface of that area, there were water lilies, which were a deep green color. They grew thickly, hiding the fish and frogs that were below the surface. That part of the pond got the most direct sunlight, and in those conditions, the water lilies thrived. 

“Have one?” Issei was reaching towards them, eager to pluck one and give it to his mother. 

“No,” Mr. Matsukawa replied with a shake of his head. “They’re just for looking at.”

After staring at the water lilies for a few more seconds, Issei started wiggling in his father’s arms, wanting to be put down. But he didn’t have shoes on anymore. 

To shift Issei’s attention, Mr. Matsukawa lifted him up high, tossing him into the air and catching him. It was thrilling enough to make Issei shriek with laughter. 

Since there weren’t any other people in that part of the park to disturb, Mr. Matsukawa tossed Issei again and again, earning an excited scream each time.

Then the two of them went back to the picnic blanket, where Issei laid his head on his mother’s lap. It had been a long morning for him. He closed his eyes, falling asleep there in just a few minutes. 

“He’s always been such a good sleeper,” Mr. Matsukawa noted, grinning slightly as he scooted closer to his wife. 

Yuko nodded in agreement, running her thumb along Issei’s forehead. “He’s all tuckered out from playing with you and getting fresh air. You know, I’m glad we decided to come out here today after all. It was worth the effort.”

“I agree,” Mr. Matsukawa said, picking his camera up and taking a picture of himself, his wife, and their sleeping son. It was the kind of camera that didn’t show a preview, so he took a few more to make sure at least one turned out okay. 

Yuko sighed happily. 

After some silent reflection, she spoke in a soft voice. “I hope we always have moments like this, where we can appreciate each other and slow down, even if it’s just for a few hours. It’s been so hard to find the time when we’re both working.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll make a habit of spending more time together as a family,” Mr. Matsukawa promised. “We just have to make it a priority.”

Age 3

Late in the afternoon during the summer, Issei’s parents were dancing together in the kitchen, with a song playing over the radio. Neither of them worked that day, and they had gone on a date that morning, having left Issei with Misumi for several hours. So they were both in good moods. They were smiling as they danced together, swaying back and forth to the music, which was playing loud enough to be heard throughout most of the house.

Issei was sitting on the kitchen floor, arranging his toy cars in a line so they could have a race. But his attention eventually shifted to his parents. After watching them from afar for a few seconds, he wanted to be included, so he ran over and hugged their legs. 

“Are you trying to cut in?” Mr. Matsukawa asked with a grin. He leaned down, scooping Issei into his arms.

Then he put Issei between himself and his wife. They held him up together, hugging him securely as they started swaying again. 

Issei smiled, enjoying the feeling of being sandwiched between his parents while they danced. He spent a lot of his time at Takahiro’s house, so whenever he had time with his own family like this, it was especially exciting and important to him. 

The song on the radio changed to a more upbeat one, and Issei started wiggling, trying to get his parents to dance faster. They chuckled and began jumping together, bouncing along to the beat. It made Issei laugh. 

The three of them kept dancing until it was time to make lunch. At that point, they all worked together to prepare it, though Issei’s contributions were more of a hindrance than actual assistance. Regardless of that, the experience was still enjoyable for the three of them. 

That evening, Yuko watched Etsu and Takahiro so that Misumi and Mr. Hanamaki could have time together. They often did that on Sundays—trading childcare in order to have a date. 

Etsu, being quite the bossy six-year-old, made a game of ordering the younger two boys around, acting as their queen. They had to bring her things and entertain her.

Since they all seemed to be having fun, Yuko let them continue, only intervening when Etsu tried to make the pair of three-year-olds jump from the top of the couch to see who could land on their feet. Apparently, that was what court jesters were supposed to do, according to Etsu’s sources. 

After that, it was time to make dinner, and Yuko found a job for each of the children to do. That kept them in her sight while the meal was being prepared. Once it was ready, Mr. Matsukawa, who had been doing a bit of work in his office, came out and joined them at the table. 

“I think Issei really likes having other kids around,” Yuko remarked, meeting Mr. Matsukawa’s eyes from across the table. “I’m sure he’d love to have a sibling.”

Mr. Matsukawa hummed in acknowledgment, glancing at Issei, who was giggling at something Takahiro had said. Then he shifted his gaze back to Yuko, and his expression filled with concern and hesitance. “Are you ready to go through that again?”

Yuko nodded. “I am, and I’d like to be pregnant with Misumi again. She and Takuma are thinking about trying sometime after next summer.”

“That gives us a year to get everything in place,” Mr. Matsukawa noted. “If we do IVF again, it’ll take a large chunk out of our savings.”

“I’m supposed to get a raise soon.” Yuko reached over to her left, helping Etsu clean up a small spill. “Maybe I’ll even get a promotion. There’s a supervisor position coming open, and I’ve thought about applying.”

“Would that come with longer hours?” Mr. Matsukawa asked, getting himself a second serving of rice. 

“I think so,” Yuko replied. 

“Do you think you can juggle more responsibility at work while pregnant?” Mr. Matsukawa seemed less hesitant now, but still slightly concerned. “And what about with a newborn?”   

“I can manage,” Yuko said with confidence. “I know what to expect this time around.”

Mr. Matsukawa helped Issei get more water, pouring it from the pitcher that was on the table. “Have you asked Misumi if she’s willing to watch another baby?”

“Yes, we’ve talked about it,” Yuko replied. “We also talked about what she would want for compensation.”

“Well, you’ve certainly thought this through,” Mr. Matsukawa said with a smile, his eyes soft as he looked at his wife. There was no other woman in the world who had ever earned that kind of tenderness from him. “Let’s look over our finances and start putting extra money aside.”

Age 4

One morning, about a month before his birthday, Issei was in the bathroom with his father, watching him shave. He had been staring at him intensely the entire time. Part of him wanted to play with the shaving cream, and another part wanted to copy what his father was doing. So he reached for the shaving cream and studied the can.

“Would you like some on your face?” Mr. Matsukawa asked, glancing at Issei as he washed off his razor. He had just finished shaving. 

Issei nodded and held the can towards his father. “Just like you!”

“That’s right,” Mr. Matsukawa agreed, setting his razor down and washing his face. Then he took the can and sprayed some shaving cream onto his fingers, patting it onto Issei’s cheeks and chin. “Now you’re just like me.”

“Can I use that?” Issei asked, pointing at the razor. 

“Hm. I think I’d better do it for you.”

Mr. Matsukawa picked up the razor, turning it around to the dull side, which made it so the blades wouldn’t come in contact with Issei’s skin. Then he scraped the shaving cream off Issei’s face bit by bit, washing it off in the sink in between strokes.

He nodded when he was finished. “All done, young man. Now you just have to wash off the excess.”

Hearing his father call him a young man made Issei’s chest swell with pride. He looked at himself in the mirror after washing his face, running his fingers over his skin. At that moment, he was sure he looked older, like he was fifty or sixty. That’s how old he thought his father was, though both of his parents were actually in their thirties.  

“I need to get taller,” Issei said, deciding that would help him look even more like his father. 

Mr. Matsukawa chuckled. “You will, before too long.”

“What are you two up to?” Yuko asked from the doorway, smiling at them. 

“Shaving,” Issei replied, turning towards his mother with his hands held behind his back. “Do I look older?”

Yuko glanced at Mr. Matsukawa, who winked and nodded at her. So she got closer to Issei and studied him in a serious manner. “You know, I do think you look older.”

“Can I go to work with you now?” Issei asked, staring at his mother hopefully.

This wasn’t the first time he had asked that question. He missed his mother, and as much as he liked being at Takahiro’s house during the week, he wanted to see where she went all day. 

“No, I’m afraid not,” Yuko replied, a hint of sadness crossing her features. But then her eyes got brighter, and she rubbed her belly, which had grown quite a lot in the past five months. “You know what? I’ll be taking a break from work soon, and you can stay home with me. It’ll be just the two of us for a few weeks.”

“Really?” Issei hopped down from the stool he had been standing on, hugging his mother’s legs afterwards. “Just me and you?”

“That’s right,” Yuko replied, running her fingers through Issei’s hair, which was cut in the same style his father wore. “It’ll be our special time.”

“Wish I could get some of that special time,” Mr. Matsukawa teased as he put some lotion on his face. “Especially since I’ll be sharing you with two more people soon.”

“I’ll see if Misumi is willing to watch Issei for us next weekend,” Yuko said, reaching over to squeeze Mr. Matsukawa’s arm. “Then we can have a nice, long date. Oh, maybe we could even go on a little trip, just for the day.”

Issei was still hugging his mother, and when he looked up at her, he couldn’t see past her belly. “Can I come?” 

Yuko leaned forward so that she could see Issei’s face, putting a hand on the counter to keep herself balanced. “No, you’ll be at Takahiro’s house.”

“I wanna go on a trip,” Issei complained, turning to look at his father. “Can I come?”

“Your mother already answered that,” Mr. Matsukawa said. He stared at Issei, looking serious, though his eyes were gentle. “You’ll have to be extra good from now on. I can count on you to make things easy for your mother, can’t I? You won’t pester her, or throw fits, or do anything like that, right?” 

Issei nodded. “I’ll be the goodest!”

“That’s my boy.” Mr. Matsukawa patted Issei’s shoulder. “If we’re lucky, the twins will take after you.”

Age 5

Not too long after Issei and Takahiro turned five, their mothers both reached the end of their pregnancies, this time giving birth within the same month. The two boys each got a younger sister out of the deal. And since Yuko had twins, there was also a little brother for Issei.

There was a joint party to celebrate the births of Asami Matsukawa, Kazuki Matsukawa, and Rei Hanamaki, all of whom were born in June, about two weeks apart. The celebration was held at the Hanamaki house. They had a bigger backyard, which was perfect for a summertime gathering.

The sound of cicadas could be heard from the back porch, and the house was all opened up, letting air flow through as guests came in and out.

Having a baby sister wasn’t that big of a deal to Takahiro, who was used to sharing his mother with his older sister, and with Issei, for that matter. She had watched him from the time he was six months old until just recently, when Yuko was ready to take maternity leave. Takahiro’s grandmother also gave lots of attention to both of the boys, and to Etsu, with whom she shared a name and a special bond.

The adults in Takahiro’s life cared for him, and they cared for other people too. That’s just how it was.

But for Issei, the arrival of Asami and Kazuki was an unwelcome intrusion on the sparse amount of time he got with his mother. His little sister and brother seemed to be all anyone at his house cared about, and as to be expected, he didn’t like sharing attention, especially since he had gotten his mother all to himself during the last month of her pregnancy. 

Even though Yuko had to rest a lot during those weeks before the birth of her other children, she still read to Issei often, and she always listened to all the things he had to say. That time they spent together meant more than anything to him.

But then it was ended by the birth of his siblings, and he had a very hard time moving past his disappointment and frustration.

For that reason, once the party started, Issei snuck away from where everyone was gathered and went to hide in the far corner of the large backyard. It was hot and muggy outside, but the shade there provided some relief. He sat by himself and glared at the fence that was on the edge of the property. 

When thinking of that day as an adult, he wouldn’t be able to remember details like whether he had just wanted somewhere quiet to sulk, or if he was hoping his mother would realize he was gone and come to look for him. Either way, it didn’t take long for him to be discovered. 

But it wasn’t his mother who came to find him.

Takahiro carefully squatted down next to Issei, who was behind the thick trunk of a tall tree. In his hands, he had a plate full of mini cream puffs, having most likely taken them without permission. Those were his favorite, and he couldn’t resist them. 

“Are you playing a game?”

Issei didn’t answer Takahiro’s question. 

Instead, he pulled his bony knees up to his chest and buried his face in his arms, which were scrawny, just like the rest of his body. He had recently hit a growth spurt, which stretched him very thin. Because of his early birth, he struggled to put weight on, and growth spurts always left him extra skinny, in a way that was almost alarming. But his mother had been assured by his pediatrician that he would catch up to other kids eventually.  

Takahiro hadn’t lost all of his baby fat yet, but he had also gone through a recent growth spurt, which left him a little taller than his best friend. He and his sister were both tall for their age. They seemed to take after their mother, who was a bit taller than their father. 

After stuffing an entire cream puff into his mouth, Takahiro took another from his plate and stuck it under Issei’s arm, offering it to him. 

“I’m not hungry,” Issei said, neither looking up nor moving to take the offered cream puff.

Once his mouth was empty, Takahiro ate the other cream puff and set his plate down, poking at Issei’s head afterwards. “Let’s go play.”

“I don’t wanna.”

“Okay,” Takahiro said. He stared at Issei, trying to figure out how he could make his friend feel better. An idea came to him, and it made him grin as he poked at Issei again. “I’ve got a secret. Wanna hear it?”

Issei’s interest was piqued. He lifted his head and nodded, staring at Takahiro with a curious expression.

“I heard my mom talking to your mom,” Takahiro whispered, leaning close and glancing around cautiously, as if what he was revealing was of the utmost importance. “Me and you are gonna get some presents today.”

“Really?” Issei perked up at that. Presents were always exciting, no matter how deep the pit of despair a child was sulking in. “For why?”

“I dunno,” Takahiro replied, shrugging. Then he picked up another cream puff, adding one more thought before cramming it into his mouth. “Maybe ‘cause we’re big brothers now. It’s a special job, y’know. That’s what my dad says.”

That topic instantly soured Issei’s mood again. “I don’t wanna be a big brother.”

It was a few seconds before Takahiro could speak, since his mouth was full. “Why not?”

“Because . . .”

Issei had to think about it. He knew that his fists clenched up, his throat felt tight, and his stomach kind of hurt whenever he saw his mother holding his baby sister and brother. But he didn’t have the words to describe why that was, or how it made him feel on an emotional level.

“I just don’t,” he finally said. 

“Is it ‘cause babies are stinky and cry a lot?” 

“No,” Issei replied. He furrowed his brow, trying to figure out what about it was so upsetting for him. “My mom loves Asami and Kazuki.”

Takahiro had started eating another cream puff. But he stared at Issei expectantly, like he was waiting to hear more. There were bits of powdered sugar around his mouth and on his fingers.

“She doesn’t love me now,” Issei explained, blinking back tears.

That was the root of it. His mother loved his sister and brother, and according to child logic, that meant he himself couldn’t possibly be loved anymore. He had been replaced. Cast aside. Forgotten.

“Really? She doesn’t love you?” Takahiro frowned as he processed that information. He looked away, and his gaze landed on a twig, which he picked up. He used it to scrap at the dirt beside himself, until there was a house drawn there.

Then he suddenly looked at Issei, his eyes full of enthusiasm. “My mom and dad and grandma love you, and I love you, so you can just live with us forever!”

“I don’t wanna live with you forever,” Issei grumbled. He wanted to live with his mother forever.

The enthusiasm quickly left Takahiro’s eyes and voice. “You don’t wanna be my friend forever?”

Issei glanced at him. “I am gonna be your friend forever. But I’m always gonna live with my mom.”

“Even when you’re all grown up?” Takahiro asked as he wiped his fingers on his shorts, getting some of the powdered sugar off of them. “I’m gonna move away when I’m bigger. That’s what grown-ups do, y’know.”

“Grown-ups have to move away?” That concept didn’t appeal to Issei at all. 

“I think so,” Takahiro said, reaching for another cream puff. “They move away to get married. My grandma says everyone wants to get married ‘cause that’s easier than being alone. She used to be married too, but her husband died. That’s why she lives with us. I like living with her, so I’m glad she isn’t married anymore.”

Issei thought that over. “If I have to move away someday, I’m gonna live with you.”

“Hm?” Takahiro was busy chewing. A few seconds later, he swallowed, tilting his head. “Do we have to get married?”

“I dunno,” Issei said with a shrug. “Probably.”

“Okay then, I’ll marry you,” Takahiro decided. “Grandma says you should only marry someone you like more than anyone else, and I like you the best.”

Issei smiled. “Thanks.”

The sound of someone walking towards them silenced their conversation. Both of them held their breath, suddenly full of adrenaline. Their imaginations were running wild. Maybe it was a wild boar, or a giant bear, or a mean dog. It might even be an ogre, like from the picture book they had recently read together. 

With each crunching step, their hearts beat faster, and they huddled against each other behind the large tree in the corner of the yard. It was surrounded by a few other trees and bushes. But as well hidden as they thought they were, their bright shirts stood out against the browns and greens around them. 

“There you boys are,” Mr. Matsukawa said, and when he saw the plate of cream puffs, which only had one left, he clicked his tongue and put his hands on his hips. “Eating sweets in secret, are we?”

Takahiro shook his head, but the plate beside him and bits of powdered sugar on the corners of his mouth were a dead giveaway.

“Don’t worry. I won’t tattle on you,” Mr. Matsukawa said, his tone calm and playful. “We’re about to eat lunch. Come inside now, and make sure you wash your hands well.”

“Guess what?” Takahiro looked excited as he stood up, pulling on his shirt collar to wipe sweat from his neck. “I’m gonna marry Issei when we grow up!”

The expression on Mr. Matsukawa’s face twisted into something neither boy recognized, and his eyes flashed with something dark. He was almost always mellow and polite, but now he seemed genuinely angry. It was a startling change in demeanor. 

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said firmly. “Boys don’t marry boys.”

“They don’t?” Takahiro asked with a frown. 

“Of course not,” Mr. Matsukawa snapped. His tone was harsh, which was quite unlike how he normally spoke. That made his words especially unsettling to hear. “Don’t let me catch either of you talking about that ever again.”

“Okay,” Takahiro said, staring down at the ground. 

Issei was also avoiding his father’s gaze, feeling just as scolded as Takahiro was at that moment. It was the first time he had ever felt afraid of his father, who usually interacted with him in such a relaxed, gentle way. The contrast in behavior was upsetting, and also very confusing. 

“Don’t forget to take your trash,” Mr. Matsukawa said in a voice that was calmer and much closer to normal, as if his anger had passed just as suddenly as it had appeared.

He turned to walk away after that, not looking back.

Meanwhile, Takahiro leaned down and picked up his plate, eyeing the last cream puff. Then he offered it to Issei with a hopeful smile, apparently having already recovered from his surprise over how Mr. Matsukawa had spoken to him.

“My tummy is full. Will you eat this?” 

“I don’t want it,” Issei said, watching his father rejoin the adults that were gathered near the back patio of Takahiro’s house.

There was a heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. In all his five years of life, he had never heard his father speak to anyone, let alone him and his friend, with such a harsh tone. He didn’t know what to make of it.

“If you don’t eat it, my mom’s gonna see it when we go over there,” Takahiro said, still holding out the plate with the last cream puff. “She might get mad.”

Issei didn’t want his friend to get in trouble, and he didn’t like the idea of facing another angry adult. So he took the cream puff, eating it quickly, which made Takahiro beam with appreciation. 

“Thanks,” Takahiro said, folding up the paper plate until it was really small. He tucked it into his pocket and started walking towards the house. “Let’s go.”

Without speaking, Issei followed Takahiro, though there was still a sense of uneasiness and confusion in his mind. He was wondering what made his father talk like that when it came to boys getting married. Since he had a good connection with Mr. Hanamaki, he decided to ask him about the same topic, wanting to test the difference in their reactions. 

While most of the partygoers were eating lunch in the kitchen and dining room, Issei went to find Mr. Hanamaki, who was putting Rei down for a nap. He snuck through the house and made his way towards the stairs, feeling like he was on a secret mission. 

Of course, Takahiro accompanied Issei during his search, though he hadn’t been told why they were looking for his father. 

The two boys found Mr. Hanamaki right after going upstairs. He was on his way out of his and Misumi’s bedroom, where Rei’s crib was located. His brown hair was more unkempt than usual, though it couldn’t be called neat most of the time. It tended to poof up where there was a little cowlick on the top. Below his eyes, there were dark circles, and there was a spot on his shoulder that was almost certainly from spit up.

He looked very much like someone who had a newborn baby, as was to be expected. 

“Hello, boys,” he whispered, squatting down to get on their level. He seemed tired, but he also seemed glad to see them. “Rei-chan is sleeping, so you need to be quiet if you’re going to play in Takahiro’s room.”

“We were looking for you,” Takahiro said, keeping his voice as low as he could. “Issei needs you for something.”

Mr. Hanamaki looked at Issei and smiled. “What’s up, pal?”

It suddenly occurred to Issei that Mr. Hanamaki might get angry, like his own father had, if he asked his question. But his desire for knowledge was greater than his fear, and Mr. Hanamaki was someone he felt safe around.

“Can boys get married?” 

“Like, to each other?” Mr. Hanamaki asked, tilting his head. He didn’t seem angry. Rather, he seemed curious, and maybe just a little bit amused. 

Issei nodded. 

“Well . . .” Mr. Hanamaki scratched his chin and paused to think about it. “Boys can’t get married here, but there are other parts of the world where they can.”

“Why can’t they get married here?” Takahiro asked, forgetting to keep his voice down.

“Quiet, please. Remember that Rei-chan is sleeping,” Mr. Hanamaki said. “And it’s complicated. But essentially, some people don’t like it, so they don’t let other people do it.”

“That’s silly,” Takahiro said, glancing at Issei and elbowing him. “We’ll get married if we want to.”

“Oh, you’re getting married, are you?” Mr. Hanamaki asked, his amusement unmistakable now. 

“When we grow up,” Issei clarified, feeling relieved over Mr. Hanamaki’s lighthearted reaction. “Because we wanna live together.”

“How exciting,” Mr. Hanamaki said as he stood up. “I’ll look forward to the wedding. Now, have you two eaten yet?”

“Yeah, we did.” Takahiro patted his round belly. “I’m full.”

“I’m hungry,” Issei said, having only had one mini cream puff, whereas Takahiro had eaten at least three or four.

“Nice to meet you, Full-kun and Hungry-kun,” Mr. Hanamaki teased, smiling at his own joke. “Let’s go downstairs and see what kind of goodies we can find.” 

Mr. Hanamaki led the two boys down the stairs, and as they went, the heavy feeling in Issei’s stomach finally went away. He was still confused about why his father spoke so harshly to him, but as he had recently come to suspect, adults didn’t always make sense.

Age 6

April had arrived, and Issei would be starting elementary school. He was anxious about it. He and Takahiro had been in preschool the previous three years, which meant elementary school wouldn’t be a totally unfamiliar experience for them. But he was still nervous about meeting a bunch of new people and being at school for more than four hours at a time.  

His only consolation was that Takahiro would be with him. The previous night, his mother mentioned that he had been born about six weeks earlier than expected. He was supposed to be an April baby. If that had actually happened, he and Takahiro wouldn’t have been able to start elementary school together. He would have had to wait for the next year. 

“Do you have everything you need?” Yuko asked, balancing a baby on each hip as she stood near the front door. Asami and Kazuki were almost ten months old, and she was about to drop them off at Misumi’s house before leaving for work, like she did every weekday and the occasional weekend. Her supervisor position required even more hours than she had been expecting. 

“Yeah, I’ve got everything,” Issei replied. He would be walking to school with Takahiro and Etsu, who was now nine years old. 

A knock at the door announced the arrival of Takahiro, who was dressed in a nice outfit, though it was nothing like the ones his sister and Issei were wearing. Uniforms were not required at their elementary school. But as an identifier on their commute to and from school, all students wore bright yellow hats. Those made it easier for them to be seen by cars and watched over by adults that were in the vicinity as they walked to school. 

There were a few other children standing with Etsu, waiting at the sidewalk for Issei and Takahiro to join them. They all lived in their neighborhood and went to their school, so they were supposed to walk together. In total, there were six of them, with Takahiro and Issei being the youngest.

“I’m off,” Issei announced, stepping outside, with his mother and siblings coming out behind him so they could go up the street to Takahiro’s house. They walked together until they reached the sidewalk. 

“I’ll see you this evening,” Yuko said. She still had Asami and Kazuki on her hips, and the two infants let out some babbles and coos, reaching for Issei’s wavy black hair, which had recently been trimmed.

Issei dodged the hands of his two younger siblings, though he reached out to playfully poke each of them on the nose. He had gotten to like them much better over the past ten months, ever since his mother had a long talk with him, telling him how she was counting on him to be a good big brother. He couldn’t let her down. 

Having already nodded at Takahiro and Etsu in greeting, Issei bowed to the other three kids, who were at least Etsu’s age, if not older. He had seen them at a distance before, but they lived on the far side of the neighborhood, so he hadn’t officially met them or played with them. And he was already aware that they would be walking to school together. It was normal and expected for kids to travel in groups based on where they lived, at least during the first few years of school. 

“Nice to meet you,” Issei said, still bowing slightly. 

“Nice to meet you,” replied one of the girls. 

“Likewise,” said the other. “Let’s get going.”

The other unknown person was the oldest, and he led the group as they all started walking. Then he looked up at the sky and hummed thoughtfully. “It might rain today.”

“Did you bring an umbrella?” Takahiro asked, glancing at Issei, who was right beside him.

“There’s one in my bag,” Issei replied. His black backpack was full of everything he could possibly need; his mother had made sure of that the previous night.

Etsu was walking near the other two girls, though she was closest to the older boy. The four of them had been walking to and from school as a group for the past three years. After a minute of silence, she glanced back at Issei and her brother. “Are you guys nervous?”

“Nah.” Takahiro gave a confident grin, patting Issei’s shoulder as he spoke. “We’re gonna have lots of fun.”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Issei said, forcing a smile. He wished he could actually feel confident. But when it came down to it, his stomach was twisted up in knots, and he spent the rest of the twenty minute walk to school wondering what the day was going to bring. 

However, he did like learning new things, so the opportunity to gain more knowledge kept him from completely freaking out over starting elementary school.

To his relief, he and Takahiro were in the same homeroom. That had become his biggest worry during the walk to school. Etsu had mentioned that they might get split into separate classes, even though they were supposed to be in the same one. But she was just messing with them. 

Issei was also relieved that the day passed rather uneventfully, as far as things that might have been stressful went. He and Takahiro were taught the routine they would follow each day, they went over various subjects during class, they both got to help serve food for their homeroom at lunchtime, they were instructed on proper cleaning techniques for tidying up the classroom, and they met most of their classmates. There were just over thirty kids in their homeroom.

At the end of the day, he and Takahiro found the people they would be walking home with, leaving the school together afterwards. The twenty minute commute felt much longer this time, because Issei was tired. Going to school really took it out of him. But still, he had enjoyed himself, and he was looking forward to the rest of the year. 

“Watch where you’re walking,” Etsu called out from up ahead. She had glanced over her shoulder to check on Takahiro and Issei, who were dawdling along at the back of the group.

Issei looked over just in time to see Takahiro accidentally step one foot off the curb, not having heard his older sister’s warning. He almost tripped. But before that could happen, Issei caught him by the hand, pulling him back onto the sidewalk. 

Takahiro had gasped when he almost fell, and he blinked quickly once he was pulled to safety, pressing a fist to his chest. “That surprised me!”

“I told you to watch where you’re walking,” Etsu repeated, sounding much more sassy than concerned. 

At that point, Issei pulled Takahiro over to walk on the part of the sidewalk that was further from the street, trading places with him. “Are you sleepy?”

“Yeah,” Takahiro replied, yawning for emphasis. “School’s harder than I thought it would be.”

“Really?” Issei reached up and slid his thumbs along the straps of his black backpack, tucking them underneath the edge. “I thought it was easy.”

“Our teacher wouldn’t let me have any more rice at lunchtime, even though I was still hungry,” Takahiro complained. “And all the writing we had to do hurt my hand.”

Issei gave a reluctant smile. “We have more writing for homework. The teacher said we have to do the kanji we learned today twenty times each.”

“Ugh!” Takahiro leaned his head back, pulling off his bright yellow hat and running his fingers through his rosy brown hair. “I don’t wanna write anymore today!” 

“It only gets harder from now on. Harder, and harder, and harder,” Etsu chanted, turning around to walk backwards. She was acting rather smug and mean-spirited. “Say goodbye to your childhood.”

“Say goodbye to your ugly, stinky butt,” Takahiro said, sticking his tongue out at his older sister as he put his hat back on.

Etsu made a face at Takahiro, then turned around and walked forward again. 

“Wanna come over to my house?” Issei asked. “We could do our homework together.”

“Sure,” Takahiro replied, flashing a playful grin. “That way, there won’t be any stinky people around to bother us.”

“If you don’t shut up, we’re gonna leave you behind,” Etsu said from ahead of them. The other two girls she was walking beside glanced back with sly smiles, making it seem like they were fine with carrying out that threat. 

“Go ahead and leave,” Takahiro snapped. He was obviously in a grumpy mood, and there was no one better to take it out on than his beloved older sister. “We know how to get home without you, ogre face.”

The older boy who was with them turned around to look at Takahiro, scolding him first with his expression, and then with his words. “You should be more respectful to your elders. And you’re my responsibility until we get back to our neighborhood, so stay close and stop making trouble.”

Takahiro rolled his eyes, but didn’t say anything. 

As tired as Issei was, he wanted to cheer his best friend up, and he had an idea. He leaned close to him and whispered in his ear. “Wanna trick them?”

In response, Takahiro nodded, listening to Issei’s plan afterwards. 

The two of them waited a few minutes, being watchful for the right opportunity—meaning they had to find an alleyway that wasn’t a dead end. Once they spotted one, they ducked into it and ran all the way through, coming out on a sidewalk that was near a much busier street than the one they had just come from. It would be easy to get lost in the crowd. 

So they held hands, making their way in the direction they thought would lead them to their neighborhood. They intended to get there first, and by that time, Etsu would be in a total panic. She would have to go searching for them before coming home.

“I remember coming here with my mom once,” Issei remarked, looking all around himself.

There were no other school children in view on this street. At least, not ones their age. He couldn’t see any bright-colored hats or square backpacks, which most elementary school students wore, making them stand out. 

Unbeknownst to Issei and Takahiro, this wasn’t a street that was designated for elementary school students. Those routes were often predetermined by each school, and were purposely made to be safer for young children. That was one of the ways new students were kept safe on their daily commute to school. 

However, there were quite a few different groups of middle schoolers, many of whom were likely on their way to cram school. They traveled in groups of two or three, dressed in the uniforms that Issei and Takahiro would have to wear once they were that age. 

Takahiro had been looking around curiously as he and Issei walked, but when he saw a shop with baked goods in the window, he glanced at Issei with excitement and hunger in his eyes. “Do you have any money?”

“Yeah,” Issei said, digging his free hand in his pocket, since he was still holding onto Takahiro with his other. His mother had given him a handful of coins for emergency use. He stared at them, trying to add them together in his head, though he hadn’t learned to count most coins. There was less than a thousand yen. 

In the meantime, Takahiro pulled some coins out of his own pocket, letting go of Issei’s hand so that he could prod them with his finger. He couldn’t count that well either. “We’ve got enough to buy some snacks, don’t we?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Issei replied. 

The two of them went into the bakery, each picking out a couple of things. Takahiro went with cream puffs for both of his selections. His parents had been limiting his sweets, because he had gotten a cavity not too long ago. So he jumped on the opportunity to have some without their knowledge. 

As for Issei, he went with curry bread and a sausage roll, since he wanted something more filling. The school lunch that day hadn’t been enough for him. 

Once they had paid for their food, they sat at one of the small round tables in the mostly empty bakery, feeling quite mature and independent. It was the first time either of them had bought something without their parents in the general vicinity to give them guidance. But both of them, on several previous occasions, had been directed through the entire process of buying things at a store.

“Can I have some of your curry bread?” Takahiro asked, having already finished one of his cream puffs. 

Issei’s mouth was full, so he just nodded and held his curry bread out, letting Takahiro take a large bite of it. Then he finished the last part of it himself and moved on to eating his sausage roll.

After enjoying half of it, he held it towards Takahiro. “Want some of this too?”

Takahiro leaned closer and took a bite. Once he had finished chewing it, he offered his remaining cream puff, which was only missing one small piece. “Trade for the rest?”

Issei handed over the rest of his sausage roll, taking the cream puff from Takahiro afterwards. Then a bright flash of lightning made both of them look out the window of the bakery. It was followed by a boom of thunder, which was loud enough to make them flinch. 

“It’s probably gonna rain now,” Takahiro noted. He shoved the rest of the sausage roll into his mouth and opened his backpack to find his umbrella. 

Issei quickly ate the cream puff he had been given. Then he got an umbrella out of his own backpack, and at that same moment, rain started pouring outside. It was coming down hard, pattering against the roof and sidewalk. People outside the window were opening umbrellas and running for cover.

“You should wait here for a while,” said the shop owner, who had come to look out the window beside where the two boys were sitting. He was standing with his hands behind his back as he watched the rain come down. “Even with umbrellas, you’ll get soaked if you go out now. But it won’t stay like this for long.”

That seemed like a good idea, but Issei wondered if Misumi might be worried about him and Takahiro, since they should have been home by now. He was supposed to check in with Misumi before going to his house, because his mother wouldn’t be done with work for a few more hours. It was likely that Etsu and the other kids were still out looking for them. Thanks to that, Misumi wouldn’t have any way of knowing they were missing, though she still might worry. And she would be mad if Etsu came home and told her they had run off. 

Apparently, Takahiro was thinking the same thing. 

“Can I use your phone to call my mom?” he asked, glancing at the shop owner, who gave him permission. He went over to the counter and picked up the phone, dialing his home number.

Issei waited at the table, and in the back of his mind, he started to worry that they were going to be in trouble for sneaking away from the older kids. So he stared at Takahiro anxiously until he got back to the table. 

“I told my mom we got lost on the way home,” Takahiro said, sitting back down and leaning his elbows on the table. “She wants us to stay where we are until she can get here.”

Issei shuffled his shoes against the ground below his seat. “Did she seem mad?” 

“Nope. She said I was really responsible for calling and letting her know,” Takahiro replied, grinning like he was proud of himself for coming up with a believable excuse. 

Issei was relieved, though still a little concerned. He wouldn’t know for sure if they were in trouble until they saw Takahiro’s mother. His own mother was always really tired from taking care of the twins, and her exhaustion was even more noticeable after she went back to work a few months earlier. Even though Misumi watched the twins five or six days a week, they still kept his mother up a lot at night, and there seemed to be more tension between his parents lately. So he didn’t want to cause any extra stress for them by breaking rules. 

However, when Takahiro’s mother arrived with baby Rei and the twins in tow, she seemed to fully believe that they had gotten lost by accident. And once Etsu arrived home that evening, after searching with the other older kids for a couple of hours, she got in trouble for losing the two young boys. 

That wasn’t the first time Issei and Takahiro had gotten away with making Etsu’s life more difficult, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

Age 7

A few days after Issei’s seventh birthday, he woke up much earlier than usual, because something exciting was supposed to happen. His father would be taking him to an aquarium. It would be the first time he ever went to one, and it was going to be just the two of them. 

He was filled with energy by the thought of spending special time with his father, which had been hard to come by since his little brother and sister were born. So he practically bounced out of bed, hurrying to get himself dressed in the clothes he had picked out the night before, including a shirt with a shark on it, a blue jacket, and some jeans. He felt like the shark shirt and blue jacket would be the best thing to wear to an aquarium. 

When he came out of his bedroom, he didn’t hear anyone else awake yet, so he went to the kitchen by himself and searched for some breakfast. There was leftover rice in the fridge, and he ate it cold, not even minding the stiffness of it. He just wanted to be ready as soon as possible.

After he finished eating, he went to his parents’ bedroom door, listening from the outside. He could hear his father snoring. As much as he wanted to knock and wake him up, he knew better than to bother his mother. She had talked to him about how important it was for her to catch up on sleep when she had the chance. His younger siblings still slept in his parents’ room as well, and he wasn’t supposed to interrupt their sleep either, because they both woke up a lot at night. 

He sighed quietly, knowing he had to go find a way to entertain himself until his father got up. He went to the living room and turned the television on, clicking the buttons below the screen to lower the volume, since it had been too loud. Then he flipped through channels until he found something to watch. It was an anime about a card game, and he liked the main character, though the show could be scary sometimes. 

There were reruns going, so he watched several episodes. Time passed quickly after that.

“Watching Yu-Gi-Oh by yourself?” Mr. Matsukawa walked into the living room. He was already dressed and ready for the day. “You’re getting braver. You used to beg me to watch that with you, and you’d always cover your eyes through half the episode.”

Issei had jumped at the sound of his father’s voice, but as soon as he remembered what they were planning on doing, he shut the television off and stood up. His legs had gone numb from how he was sitting. He almost fell forward, but he caught himself and held onto the edge of the coffee table. 

“I already ate breakfast!”

“Oh yeah?” Mr. Matsukawa gave a tired smile. “What was it?”

“Rice,” Issei replied, taking a few steps forward, which made the pins-and-needles feeling in his feet tickle him. 

“Just that?” Mr. Matsukawa turned and walked towards the kitchen, crossing through the dining room. “I’m making some eggs to go with my rice. I’ll fry one up for you, too.”

“Thanks,” Issei said, flexing his toes as the blood came back into them. Then he went into the kitchen and watched his father prepare breakfast. 

It was ready within ten minutes, so they sat together at the table, just the two of them. Issei was happy about that. He couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t have to share attention with his siblings, especially during a meal. 

“You excited about going to the aquarium?” Mr. Matsukawa asked as they finished eating.

Issei nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah! I even got up early.”

Mr. Matsukawa chuckled, beginning to stack their empty dishes. “Someday, getting up early won’t be so easy.”

“I already get up early for school,” Issei pointed out.

“True,” Mr. Matsukawa said as he walked away from the dining table. “But you still get to go to bed pretty early, so it evens out for you.”

“Are you not allowed to go to bed early?” Issei asked, following his father to the kitchen. 

“There’s usually responsibilities that keep me up late,” Mr. Matsukawa replied. He put the dishes in the sink, then turned to look at Issei, giving a short sigh and a small grin. “When you’re all grown up with a job, a wife, and kids of your own, you’ll have the same problem. But you’ve got plenty of time before you have to worry about that. Today’s about having fun, so let’s get going.”

“Okay,” Issei said, hurrying towards the front door. 

“Go brush your teeth and use the toilet before we leave,” Mr. Matsukawa called from the kitchen, where he was getting a glass of water. 

Issei turned around and raced down the hallway, doing as he was told. 

Just about fifteen minutes later, they were on their way out the door and heading to the train station. The sky was clear and the temperature was mild—not hot, but not too cold either. And the world seemed especially beautiful to Issei that morning. He was in high spirits. 

Instead of the usual suit and tie, Issei’s father was wearing a casual outfit, which reminded Issei of the times they used to go places when he was younger. They hadn’t done that much since the twins were born. There were only three, maybe four times in the past few years that they went to the park as a family, or hung out together in the backyard on a Sunday afternoon, when both of his parents almost always had the day off from work. 

That day also happened to be a Sunday, and the train wasn’t that crowded when they boarded it, since not many people were out and about yet. But there were no seats open.

Issei stood as tall as he could beside his father, feeling proud to be next to him. He had to hold onto his father’s shirt now and then, when the train swayed with movement, usually from going around a curve. He almost lost his footing a few times. But other than that, he tried to imitate his father, with one hand in his pocket and a mellow expression on his face. He wanted to be just like him. 

They had to go all the way to Tokyo, so the train ride would take a little over two hours. Issei felt he had never faced a task as daunting as this trip before in his entire life, even though he went to Tokyo by train almost every summer to see his grandparents—the ones on his mother’s side. His father’s parents lived in Miyagi, though he didn’t see them on a regular basis.  

Despite his yearly two-week trip to Tokyo, this trip was especially boring and unbearable, because he was eager to get to the aquarium. It made him feel impatient and squirmy, though he did his best to be quiet and stay still. His father placed significant value on acting polite and proper while in public. So even though he was tired of standing, he locked his knees and endured it without complaint. 

Thankfully, they were able to sit for the last half of the journey. Some seats came open when the train briefly stopped at a station. 

After he sat down, Issei relaxed his body and looked out the window. He couldn’t do that when he was standing. If he did, it would give him motion sickness. And he didn’t really like to look at the other passengers. There wasn’t anything interesting about them—many sat in silence, either reading books and newspapers, or doing nothing in particular. The trip became much less boring once he could stare at the trees, buildings, and fields they were passing. 

Finally, they reached their stop, so he and his father made their way off the train, walking across the platform. Then they headed into town and stopped at a small restaurant for lunch, since it was already eleven o’clock. 

Issei didn’t realize how hungry he was until he saw the food, and he even ate as much as his father did, though that was mostly because he wanted to order the same thing as him and wasn’t allowed to waste anything.

The aquarium was about five minutes from there, and Issei made sure he kept up with his father’s quick pace, even if it was difficult to walk that fast. By the time they arrived at the entrance, Issei was out of breath. But his excitement, along with the large meal he had eaten, kept his energy flowing.

“Where should we go first?” Mr. Matsukawa asked once they were inside.  

“I wanna see the sharks,” Issei replied. Those had been his favorite animal for a while now, and he couldn’t wait to see them in person. 

“Sounds like a plan,” Mr. Matsukawa said, leading Issei by the hand. 

Before too long, they were staring into the tank of a shark, and Issei was beside himself with joy. He couldn’t believe he was looking at the real thing.

“It’s huge,” he gasped. “And it’s swimming slow, just like they do on TV.”

Mr. Matsukawa squatted down beside Issei, watching the shark move around. “Pretty cool, huh?”

“Super cool!” Issei was loving every second of it, but he eventually wanted to move on and look around. So they made their way through the aquarium. 

There was a petting area with shallow water and various tanks, and Issei got to touch a few different sea creatures, most of which felt much different than he was expecting. Some were slimy, some were smooth, some were squishy, and some were rough. He was making mental notes about all of them so he could recount the experience to Takahiro the next day. 

When they got hungry, they bought snacks and sat in the aquarium’s picnic area. Then they got back to looking at the animals. Mr. Matsukawa matched Issei’s leisurely pace, and they took their time going from exhibit to exhibit. There were so many to see that they were able to spend a couple of hours slowly walking through the aquarium.  

While they were looking at one of the last attractions, Mr. Matsukawa’s phone started ringing, and he pulled it out of his pocket to check the number. 

“It’s work,” he said, stepping away towards a quiet corner. “Wait here.”

Issei nodded in response. 

He was standing in front of a big glass wall in a dark room, and inside the tank were dozens of huge bluefin tuna. They were swimming in a circle, since food had just been dropped into the water. Someone’s voice was coming over the speaker, explaining how often the fish had to eat, and describing the type of nutrients they needed. 

There were a few other visitors in the room, but they eventually shuffled out. Issei was left alone after that. 

A long time passed as he stood there staring at the bluefin tuna, which were swimming around and around. He wondered if they ever got bored in their tank. He also wondered if they were a big family, and he wished Takahiro could be there to see them, since that would have been fun. 

Standing there by himself was starting to feel lonely. He looked around for his father, spotting him in the far corner of the room.

Mr. Matsukawa was still on the phone, and he seemed slightly frustrated, though he was speaking calmly as he paced back and forth. 

Issei sighed, turning his attention back towards the tank of fish. There was no use interrupting his father when he was on a work call. He had done that before and been scolded harshly for it, which left a lasting impression. There were some mistakes he knew better than to make twice.

He had no way of knowing exactly how much time passed before Mr. Matsukawa finally got off the phone, but it felt like several hours to him. He ended up squatting on the floor in front of the tank so he could zone out while watching the fish. It was so mesmerizing that he almost fell asleep sitting there. 

For the second time that day, his legs went numb. They were tingly when his father came over and helped him up. 

“Sorry that took so long,” Mr. Matsukawa said, his tone somewhat irritated, though also kind of relieved. “There was a huge mix up with a client, and I was the only one who knew how to fix everything.”

“It’s okay,” Issei said, yawning right after. “You’re really important at work, aren’t you?”

“You could say that. Lots of people rely on me, and that means I always have to come through for them.” Mr. Matsukawa checked the time. “We need to leave soon, so pick one more animal to see.”

“I wanna look at the sharks again,” Issei said, reaching for his father’s hand. 

Mr. Matsukawa gently squeezed Issei’s fingers. “Sounds good.” 

They went back to the area that held the shark tanks, and they looked at them for a few minutes. Then they bought souvenirs from the gift shop. Issei picked out four different stuffed animals—a shark for himself, a sea turtle for Takahiro, and a penguin for each of his siblings. He also got a book about the ocean for his mother. She loved to read, and he didn’t want her to feel left out.

After that, they got some food at a restaurant, and then it was time to go home. It was just getting dark out.

Issei carefully carried the bag of souvenirs as he left the restaurant with his father. They walked to the station, where they boarded a train that was more crowded than the one they took that morning. But they got lucky and found some open seats. 

The long day had left Issei completely exhausted. He fell asleep right after getting comfortable in his seat, and he didn’t wake up until they got to their stop. 

As a special surprise, Mr. Matsukawa took Issei to an ice cream shop for dessert, even though it was a cold night. They ate inside of the small store, taking their time and talking about their favorite parts of the day. It was nearly nine o’clock when they left.

“Want me to carry you?” Mr. Matsukawa asked, glancing down at Issei, who was dragging his feet as he walked beside him. They were very slowly making their way towards home. “You could ride on my back.”

“I can walk by myself,” Issei replied, feeling determined to be as grown up as possible. But his feet hurt, and his legs hurt, and he wasn’t able to go any faster than a snail’s pace. 

Mr. Matsukawa playfully clicked his tongue and squatted down in front of Issei, looking at him over his shoulder. “You’ll be too big for this soon. I’m not getting any younger, and you’re only getting taller. So let’s take the chance while we’ve still got it.”

Issei thought his father made a good point, so he nodded, climbing onto his back and keeping a tight hold on the bag of souvenirs. That made the walk home go much faster than it would have otherwise. It also helped keep Issei warm, since he was still chilled from eating ice cream, and his thin jacket wasn’t doing much for him. 

As he hugged his father’s shoulders, Issei smiled contentedly.

This was a memory he would cherish for a long time. 

It was late when they made it to the front patio of their house, and Mr. Matsukawa set Issei down at that point. Then he got his keys out and unlocked the door. The wind had picked up, so Issei was shivering as he waited to be let inside. 

“Make sure you take a shower before bed,” Mr. Matsukawa said, ruffling Issei’s hair before heading towards his office, which was a small room near the far end of the hall. 

“Okay,” Issei replied, glancing around in search of his mother and siblings. He wanted to give them their souvenirs. But the house was dark, and they might already be asleep. 

He crept up to his parents’ bedroom door and listened, hearing nothing. Then he cracked the door open, looking in at the bed, where he saw his mother lying on her side. The twins were sharing a small bed on the floor. All three of them were sleeping soundly, so he quietly backed out of the room, softly shutting the door behind himself. 

The souvenirs would have to wait until the next day.

His mother usually helped him with turning on the shower and washing his hair, but since she was asleep, he decided to handle it himself this time. He went to the bathroom and repeated the process he usually saw his mother do, getting the water going and waiting for it to get warm, though it took some effort to get it to the right temperature. He stepped inside once it was ready. 

While he was washing his hair, he got shampoo in his eyes, which really stung. But he thought it went well other than that. Now that he could shower by himself, he was feeling particularly grown up.

Despite the nap on the train, he was still exhausted when he went to bed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stay awake for much longer. 

As he thought back on the day, he hugged his new shark stuffed animal, feeling especially happy and content. Even though he had given up an actual party in order to spend the day with his father at an aquarium, it was still the best birthday he’d ever had. He couldn’t wait to tell Takahiro all about it when he gave him his souvenir.

Age 8

“So then I knocked her paint over, and it got all over her picture,” Takahiro said, finishing a story about earlier that day, when a girl in his class had called Issei’s drawing ugly. He had retaliated against her on Issei’s behalf. 

“That was mean of you,” Etsu scolded, glancing at Takahiro and Issei, both of whom were walking beside her. 

She was the oldest one in their walking group now, since the older boy already moved on to middle school. The other two girls that lived in their neighborhood had also moved on to middle school, and at the end of this year, she would be moving on to middle school herself. No other kids had been assigned to their walking group yet.

“Well, it was mean of her to tease Issei about his picture,” Takahiro retorted, crossing his arms. “My actions were justified.”

Etsu rolled her eyes. “Hardly.” 

Issei had his hands in his pockets, and he grinned slightly at the memory of his best friend coming to his defense. It’s not like he had been heartbroken over the unwanted criticism from the girl in his class, but still, it didn’t feel good to have someone make fun of his drawing. It was of caterpillars on a branch, and the girl said it looked as ugly as his eyebrows. 

“She’s always mean to Issei, and she calls me Pig all the time,” Takahiro added. He had been bigger than his classmates when he first started elementary school, and there was a group of girls who teased him about it, giving him that unwanted nickname. They still called him Pig more than two years later, even though he and Issei were almost the same size and height now.  

As for Issei, no one would be able to guess that he had been born premature anymore. He was able to keep on weight much better than when he was a baby and toddler. However, he had still been really scrawny back when he started elementary school, and the girls who liked to tease him and Takahiro used to say his eyebrows were thicker than his arms.

“You know, you’re supposed to just ignore people when they’re not nice,” Etsu said, trying to sound mature. 

Takahiro looked at Issei, his eyes gleaming with a mischievous twinkle. “Guess we have to ignore my sister from now on.”

Issei nodded solemnly. “She’ll be missed.”

“Wow, you’re hilarious,” Etsu deadpanned. 

Both boys ignored her after that, pretending she wasn’t there. In response, she walked faster and left them behind, not giving them a second thought. She was well-practiced at acting like they didn’t exist. 

Soon after that, the boys made it to their street, and Issei’s house was right beside them. So he turned towards the walkway that led to his front patio. “See you later.”

“Later,” Takahiro replied, waving as he continued down the sidewalk. 

Issei hurried to his front door, unlocking it and letting himself inside. He was excited to tell his mother about his day and show her that he could read a new book. She had been getting off work a bit earlier lately, and she usually got his siblings from Misumi’s house right before he got home. But when he stepped into the house, instead of hearing his three-year-old siblings running around, which was what he had been expecting, he heard nothing. 

As he slipped off his shoes, he wondered if his mother was running late. That happened every once in a while. She would either get off work later than normal, or she would get caught up talking with Misumi when she went to get the twins from her house.  

However, Issei discovered his mother lying on the couch when he came into the living room, so he came closer and stared at her. She was napping, likely having fallen asleep by accident. This was also something that happened once in a while. His mother would come home, rest her eyes for a moment, then fall asleep without meaning to. 

He was observant enough to notice how tired she usually was, and the sound of his siblings crying at night sometimes woke him, so he knew his mother must not be getting enough rest. The twins hadn’t managed to sleep through the whole night yet, and they had been having night terrors. He overheard his mother talking to Misumi about that recently. 

Since he was just under six months away from turning nine, Issei felt he was old enough to help out and let his mother rest. So he carefully put a blanket over her. Then he went back to the front door, slipping his shoes on and stepping outside again. He had decided to go get his little siblings and bring them home himself. After that, he would try to keep them quiet so she could sleep longer. 

It was a quick walk to Takahiro’s house, and Issei knocked on the front door once he reached it. 

Unlike the door at his own house, which was plain wood, the door of Takahiro’s house was painted a beautiful blue. The rest of the house was white, just like his own, with the most noticeable difference between them being that Takahiro’s house was two stories, whereas Issei’s was a single story building. The entire property of Takahiro’s house also had a lot more trees and bushes, most of which were in the backyard. That made games of hide-and-seek more enjoyable. 

After almost thirty seconds and a second knock, the door was answered by Misumi, who looked at Issei with a curious smile. “Well, hello there. I was expecting your mom. Did you come to play with Takahiro?” 

Issei shook his head, feeling rather proud and responsible. “I’m here to get my brother and sister.”

“Is that so?” Misumi’s eyes and smile were full of playfulness. “Your mom trusts you with important errands these days, doesn’t she?”

“My mom was asleep when I got home, so I came by myself,” Issei explained, holding his hands behind his back as he rocked on his heels. He wanted to be praised for his efforts.

“Oh, is she not feeling well?” Misumi asked, her brow furrowing in concern.

“I think she’s just tired,” Issei replied. “I’m helping her rest.”

Misumi hummed. “Does she know you came to get your siblings?”

“No.” Issei shrugged in a casual way. “I didn’t tell her, ‘cause I didn’t wanna wake her up.”

“You’re such a thoughtful boy,” Misumi said, patting the top of Issei’s head. It was exactly the kind of praise he had been wanting. “Why don’t you stay here for a while? That way, your mom can get a bit more rest.”

Issei cheerfully nodded and stepped into the house, slipping his shoes off. 

Takahiro spotted Issei from the living room, where he was playing with the twins and his little sister. He flashed an excited grin. “Come play with us!”

Issei went over and sat down, looking at the block tower the other four kids were working on. Or rather, the block tower Takahiro was building, which was getting knocked down repeatedly by the three little kids. 

“Let’s see who can make a taller tower before it gets broken,” Takahiro suggested, quickly starting to build a new tower. 

“Okay,” Issei said, grabbing some blocks. 

He and Takahiro barely got anything done before both towers were knocked over, which led to a chorus of giggles from the trio of three-year-olds. They tried again several times, but before there was ever a clear winner, their buildings were destroyed by the grabby hands of their siblings. 

That game eventually got boring, so they decided to play something else. 

Issei and Takahiro pretended to be hungry monsters, chasing their siblings around the living room, with shrieks and laughter filling the air. It was enough to bring Takahiro’s grandmother downstairs. She sat and watched them run around, smiling all the while. The noise of children having fun was something she always enjoyed.

They were still playing that game when Mr. Hanamaki got home from work, and he was quick to join in on the action. They made him the monster, and all five children hid from him, waiting to see if they would be discovered. He purposely skipped over their hiding spots once or twice, and when they were least suspecting it, he would turn around and jump at them. 

There was blissful chaos in the Hanamaki house after that. Misumi put ear plugs in so she didn’t have to hear them while she was cooking dinner, and Grandma, who was still on the couch, was their safe spot. Mr. Hanamaki wasn’t allowed to get them if they were sitting beside her. That was their usual rule for games like this. 

It was a lot of fun, and more than an hour passed by without their notice.

“Dinner’s ready,” Misumi announced, walking into the living room. 

“Oh good, I’m saved,” Mr. Hanamaki said from where he was buried under all five children. They had decided to sit on him as a group, and now he was captured, sentenced to death by a sword to the chest. There had been some debate over what the sword would be made from.  

Meanwhile, Grandma was slowly scooting forward to the edge of the couch. She was a short, fat woman, carrying much of her weight from the waist down, and she was also quite old. It could be difficult for her get off the couch.

“Can someone help me up?” she asked. 

Takahiro immediately climbed down from his father’s back, going over to pull on his grandmother’s hands, until she was standing. They looked at each other with matching grins. 

“I didn’t know it was so late.” Issei moved off of Mr. Hanamaki’s ankles, where he had been sitting. Then he looked at his brother and sister. “We should go home.”

“Not until you’ve eaten,” Misumi insisted, nodding towards the table. “I made enough to feed everyone, and there’s even some for you to bring home to your parents.”

“Really?” Issei was excited to stay for dinner, and even more excited to surprise his mother with food. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome,” Misumi said, her voice warm and sincere. Then she clapped her hands a few times, speaking loud and clear. “Everyone go wash up for dinner.”

Mr. Hanamaki was freed when the other three children scampered away, hurrying to obey Misumi’s orders. They didn’t always cooperate so easily, but for the most part, the trio of three-year-olds listened to Misumi and did as she asked. She kept them on a routine that was predictable and easy to understand.  

Etsu came downstairs not long after hearing her mother’s words, and once everyone was at the table, they ate together and talked about their day. Each of the children got a turn to speak, including Issei, who told them about the new book he could read. 

Takahiro talked about what he wanted to do over winter break, which was a couple of months away. 

Etsu used her turn to tattle on Takahiro, in regards to purposely spilling paint on his classmates’ picture. That led to a discussion about bullying and how to handle it. 

Rei talked about the game they played before dinner, as did Asami, and Kazuki didn’t say anything at all. He was a late bloomer when it came to talking. 

Once dinner was over, Misumi packed up a few containers of food to send home with Issei, and he left with his siblings not long after that. 

“Come on,” Issei said, leading the twins through the dark.

They were on the sidewalk, and he was balancing the containers of food against his chest with one arm. In his free hand, he was holding onto Asami, who was holding onto Kazuki, who was stopping every few seconds to stare towards whatever sounds caught his attention. It was usually a dog barking, or the horn of a car that was far off.

“We go home now?” Asami asked, squeezing Issei’s hand. 

“Yeah, that’s where we’re going,” Issei replied. He used his chin to point towards their home, which was up ahead of them. “That’s our house right there.”

Asami looked at their house in the distance, letting go of both Issei and Kazuki’s hands, which allowed her to run towards it. There was just enough illumination from a nearby street light to see by, and she had locked in on her target.

“Wait for us!” Issei shouted, reaching for Kazuki’s wrist. He pulled his little brother along, and they followed their sister, making it to their house in another thirty seconds.

They didn’t get there in time to stop Asami from banging on the door with all her might. 

“Stop, Ah-chan,” Issei said, hurrying to pull his house key out of his pocket. “I’ll open it for you.”

However, he didn’t end up having to unlock it. 

Yuko opened the door a moment later, looking like she had only just woken up from her nap. Her eyes widened when she saw her three children standing there, and then she glanced at the sky, noticing how dark it had gotten. “Oh no. What time is it?”

“It’s time for dinner,” Issei replied, handing his mother the leftovers from Takahiro’s house. 

Meanwhile, Asami and Kazuki went to hug Yuko’s legs, rubbing their faces against her in greeting. 

Yuko ruffled their hair, then looked up at Issei with a worried expression. “Were you at Misumi’s this whole time?”

Issei nodded. “I went to get the twins for you, ‘cause you were sleeping. But she said we could stay and play there. Then she fed us dinner, and she made some for you and Dad too.”

All of a sudden, Yuko’s chin started quivering, and she covered her eyes with one hand.

The twins had slipped past Yuko and gone into the house, so Issei took a moment to hug her. He was already nearing her height—she was a very short woman, and he was a rather tall boy. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. I just need to thank Misumi properly,” Yuko replied, sniffling as she balanced the leftovers on one arm, using her other to hug her son. “And I didn’t realize you were already such a responsible young man.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty grown up,” Issei said, grinning as he squeezed his mother tighter. Then he let her go and went around her, stepping into the house and slipping off his shoes. “I can read a new book now. It’s got lots of pages, like maybe fifteen or twenty.”

“That’s exciting news.” Yuko closed the door. “Will you read it to me while I eat?”

“Sure!” Issei reached for his backpack, which he had left near the entryway, pulling out the book he borrowed from the school library.

Then he went to the table and read to his mother as she enjoyed some of the leftovers. They were interrupted by the twins, who also wanted to hear the story. So he started from the beginning and read it again.

The sound of the front door announced the arrival of Mr. Matsukawa, who soon appeared near the table and kissed Yuko in greeting. “Dinner looks good.”

“There’s a plate on the counter for you,” Yuko said, smiling at him. 

“Thanks.” Mr. Matsukawa went and grabbed his plate, carrying it with him past the dining table, like he was heading towards the hallway. “I’ve got some work to finish, so I’ll eat in my office.”

Yuko’s smile faded. “You don’t have time to sit with us for just a few minutes?”

“Sorry, not tonight,” Mr. Matsukawa said as he made it to the hallway. “The deadline for this proposal is tomorrow morning.”

With a quiet sigh, Yuko turned her attention back to her three children. They were all looking at her. “I’m in the mood for something sweet. Should we find some dessert?”

Kazuki nodded, Asami cheered and clapped her hands, and Issei grinned as he closed his book, since he had finished the second read-through right before his father got home. 

“I think we have ice pops in the freezer,” Yuko said, standing up and walking towards the kitchen. The twins got up to follow her, eager for a treat. 

As for Issei, he went and got his backpack, taking it to his bedroom afterwards to put it away. Then he carried his book and hurried across the hallway to his father’s office door, which was open. He stared at Mr. Matsukawa, who was already going over some paperwork as he ate his dinner. 

Even though he wanted to greet his father with a hug and offer to read his book to him, he also didn’t want to disturb him. So instead of stepping into the room or saying anything, he crept away and went to the kitchen, where he was given an ice pop. 

He decided he would stay up late enough for his father to finish working, because he really wanted to read his new book to him. But after dessert, his mother helped him with his homework, then had him take a shower and sent him to bed. He couldn’t keep his eyes open for very long once he was lying down, all cozy and warm. 

In less than five minutes, he fell asleep, with the book he wanted to show his father held against his chest. He wouldn’t end up getting a chance to read it to him before having to return it to the school library.

Chapter Text

Age 9

It was the first day of summer break, and Issei was packing a bunch of clothes into a bag. He needed enough to last him an entire week. His father was taking him on a camping trip, just the two of them, and he could hardly wait. They were going to leave right after lunch and spend a whole seven days out in the wilderness together. There hadn’t been any opportunities for one-on-one time since his seventh birthday, so this trip really meant a lot to him.

After his bag was packed with several outfits and way more underwear than was necessary, he brought it to the living room, leaving it on the couch. His mother and the twins were in the dining room eating breakfast. He went to join them, then looked around for his father as he picked up a piece of toast. His mother spoke right when he took a bite.

“Your father isn’t here,” Yuko said, her voice slightly bitter, though she was trying to hide it behind an apologetic smile. “They needed him at work this week. A deal was about to fall through . . . Apparently, they couldn’t save it without him.”

When he heard that, Issei’s heart sank, and he lost his appetite. He set his toast on his plate and forced himself to swallow the piece that was in his mouth. It hurt going down, nearly choking him.

“I need to go drop Ah-chan and Kazu off in a few minutes, but when I get home from work tonight, let’s think of something fun to do tomorrow,” Yuko suggested as she studied Issei’s face. Then she started to clear the table, since the twins were done eating. “I have a shorter shift than usual, so there should be time to go somewhere. Maybe we could see a movie.”

“Excuse me,” Issei said, holding back tears as he got up and left the table. He grabbed his bag from where it sat on the couch, taking it to his bedroom and closing the door behind himself. There was nothing to do but flop down on his bed and cry. 

So that’s what he did. 

He cried nonstop until nearly twenty minutes later, when there was a series of determined knocks on his bedroom door. Aside from slowing his tears down, it didn’t phase him, and the only movement he made was to roll over and hide under his blanket. The disappointment he felt was so heavy that he still had a lot of crying left to do.

Then there was another knock on the door, somehow sounding more persistent this time. He ignored it, not wanting to talk to anyone, or see anyone, or be comforted, or anything like that. All he wanted was to be left alone.

However, Takahiro let himself in and walked over to the bed, standing beside it. “Hey.”

“Go away,” Issei grumbled. His voice made it obvious that he had been crying, and that he was still doing so, to a lesser extent.  

“Your mom was talking to my mom when she dropped the twins off just now,” Takahiro said, sitting down next to Issei and nudging him with his leg. “She said you can’t go camping anymore and might need someone to cheer you up. Guess she was right, huh?”

“No,” Issei sniffled from under the blanket. “I’m fine.”

“. . . I can see that,” Takahiro remarked, his voice serious, though there was subtle playfulness in his words. “People always hide in their bed and cry when they’re fine.”

Revealing only his forehead and eyes, Issei peeked out from under the blanket and looked at Takahiro, who was staring right back at him. “Today’s the worst day ever.”

With sympathy and the slightest bit of mischief, Takahiro smirked, making his dimples show. “Y’know what my mom says whenever I say that?”

“What?”

“‘The day isn’t over yet,’” Takahiro quoted, speaking in a tone that was impressively like the one his mother used when patronizing him with offhanded encouragement. Then he started drumming on Issei’s forehead with his fingers. “And it’s not, so let’s go play outside.”

Issei turned his face, hiding it under the blanket again. “I don’t wanna.”

“Okay,” Takahiro said, lying down beside Issei and spreading his arms and legs out, getting comfortable. After a dragged out silence, he cleared his throat and spoke empathetically, like his father did when trying to make him feel better. “So, you can’t go camping, huh? That’s pretty rough.”

“My dad has to work,” Issei replied, his gloomy voice muffled by the blanket over his face. It was uncomfortable under there. His bedroom was hot from the summer sun already, despite it only being late morning. 

Takahiro had fallen silent. But then he suddenly snapped his fingers, sitting up and speaking with a great deal of enthusiasm. “I know! Me and you can go camping instead!”

“Just us? Alone in the woods?” Issei asked in a dubious tone. He uncovered his face again so he could give Takahiro a look of disbelief, wondering how his best friend, who used to be deathly afraid of the dark and was still not entirely comfortable being outside at night, could possibly think that was a good idea.

“Alone in the backyard,” Takahiro corrected, leaning back on his hands. “We can set the tent up out there. Oh, we could even use the grill and cook our own food!”

“I don’t think my mom’s gonna let us play with fire,” Issei said, though he sat up and got out from under the blanket, feeling a spark of excitement over the prospect of camping in the backyard. It did sound like it would be fun.

“Well, then we’ll just eat stuff we don’t have to cook, like rice balls and chips and stuff,” Takahiro decided. He looked like he was quite pleased with himself. When he glanced at Issei, his eyes were bright and filled with cheerful determination, as was his smile. “Do you know where your tent is?”

“Yeah,” Issei replied, climbing over Takahiro to get off the bed. He got a tissue from his desk and blew his nose, tossing it in the trash afterwards. Then he rubbed his swollen eyes with the back of his hand and sniffled to clear his nose the rest of the way. “But I’ve never set it up by myself before.”

“You won’t be by yourself,” Takahiro said confidently, getting up and leading Issei out of the bedroom. “I’ll be there to help. Between the two of us, we’ll figure it out in no time.”

They didn’t figure it out in no time. 

After trying to set the tent up for over an hour, they went to ask Misumi for help. She was busy watching Rei and the twins, Etsu was at a friend’s house, and Grandma was out at a medical appointment, so she couldn’t help them right that minute. But she said she would show them how to set the tent up once Grandma got home, as long as they watched the little kids for her while she made lunch. 

That seemed like a fair trade, so they stayed at Takahiro’s house and played with their siblings in the backyard, where they tried to catch bugs and make them fight each other in an empty pot. Asami somehow managed to find the most, and she even caught a lizard. She had to crawl through the bushes in order to accomplish that. 

Rei refused to touch any of the bugs, and the lizard scared her, so she and Kazuki went off to collect interestingly shaped rocks and leaves. They gathered a whole pile of them and arranged them in patterns on the back patio. Then they commandeered the empty pot and filled it with water, adding in some of their leaves and a variety of small plants. 

It was only getting hotter out as time passed, and the air was muggy, but the kids were so occupied with what they were doing that they didn’t mind. Whenever they got thirsty, they would go drink from the hose and splash their faces with water.

By the time lunch was ready, all of the kids were covered with dirt and sweat, having thoroughly enjoyed themselves. They had a lot of washing up to do before they were allowed back into the house. Asami, who had gotten into the puddle of mud that formed near the runoff water from the hose, was caked in so much grime that she had to change her clothes before coming inside. 

Grandma got home right before they started eating, and when they were done, she agreed to watch the trio of four-year-olds while Misumi went to help the boys with their tent. 

And so the three of them walked over to Issei’s house. Misumi showed them how to set the tent up, talking them through it and having them do all of the actual work—that way, they would understand how to do it themselves next time. She was all about teaching them to do things by letting them do it, because even if mistakes were made, they would learn from them. That was her personal motto when it came to parenting. 

Once the tent was all set up, she told the boys to make sure Yuko was okay with them sleeping out there when she got home from work, and then she left them to their own devices. 

Issei and Takahiro filled the tent with pillows, blankets, and some pre-packaged snacks. After that, they spent the afternoon playing in the backyard, pretending they were somewhere far away. It was the most fun they’d had that whole summer. In fact, it made Issei forget all about his disappointment over not camping with his father. A backyard campout was a perfectly good alternative. 

However, when it got dark outside, they were both too scared to stay out in the tent all night. So they brought the pillows and blankets back inside, deciding to sleep indoors. They ran into Mr. Matsukawa in the hallway when they were heading to Issei’s room.

“Hey, son,” Mr. Matsukawa said, having just stepped out of his office. He put a hand on Issei’s shoulder. “I’m sorry about our camping trip.”

“It’s okay,” Issei replied, his tone genuine. He truly wasn’t upset anymore.

“Your mother told me you made the best of the situation.” Mr. Matsukawa looked proud as he stared at Issei, with only the light in his office to illuminate the dark hallway. “That was very mature of you.”

Issei stood a little taller, smiling up at his father. There was no one whose approval meant more to him.

Standing to Issei’s left, Takahiro was also smiling, his back leaned against the wall and his hands in his pockets as he waited for Issei to be done talking with his father.

“Here,” Mr. Matsukawa said, pulling out his wallet and removing a few bills, which he put in Issei’s hand. “I think you’re old enough for an allowance now.”

“Thank you!” Issei glanced at Takahiro, their expressions equally excited. 

They used that money to get lots of snacks the following day, and for the rest of that week, they pretended to be camping from sunrise to sunset. They loved every minute of it.

One winter day, right when Issei was getting home from school, he could hear his sister crying as he stepped into the house. She sounded really upset. So he slipped off his shoes, making his way over to the kitchen, where his mother and younger siblings were gathered. 

“I just don’t understand why you bit that little boy,” Yuko said, sounding both frustrated and concerned. “Can you explain it to me? Did he do something to make you mad?”

Asami sniffled and wiped her eyes on the back of her wrist, barely managing to get her words out in a way that could be understood. “He was . . . was . . . he was b-being mean to . . . to Kazu.”

Kazuki was standing next to Asami with his hands folded in front of himself, his expression neutral, and his body stiff. Somehow, he always gave off the air of an old man who had seen far too much in his lifetime. 

“Is that true?” Yuko asked, looking at Kazuki.

A nod was Kazuki’s only reply. At this point, none of them had heard him talk yet, and they weren’t sure if he was able to or not. But he could obviously understand everything that was said to him.

“Did you ask your teacher for help?” Yuko asked, directing the question to Asami.

“No,” Asami whimpered, her chin quivering as more tears flowed. “I for-for-f-forgot to.”

“It’s okay,” Yuko said, squatting down and pulling Asami into a hug. “I understand how hard it is to control yourself when you’re angry, sweetheart. But biting isn’t the way to handle it. Next time, if someone’s being mean, either ignore them and help your brother walk away, or talk to an adult.”

“I’m sorry,” Asami wailed, melting into her mother’s embrace. Then she started crying even harder.

“I know,” Yuko sighed, caressing the back of Asami’s head. 

Kazuki had caught sight of Issei standing near the entrance of the kitchen, and they stared at each other silently, until Issei beckoned to him. After that, Kazuki walked over to Issei and followed him down the hall. They went into Issei’s bedroom. 

“Some kids were being mean to you today?” Issei asked, closing the door and putting his backpack down on his desk. He felt it was his job as an older brother to investigate this issue.

Kazuki nodded. 

Issei sat on his bed, patting the spot beside himself. “Were they trying to lock you in the supply closet again?” 

Kazuki shook his head and came over to sit beside Issei, folding his hands on his lap afterwards. He was sitting tall, his body just as stiff as it had been when he was standing in the kitchen. 

“Were they pushing you around?” Issei knew not to ask questions that couldn’t be answered with just a yes or no, so he was flipping through the possibilities, wanting to find out exactly what had happened to his little brother. “Or taking your stuff?”

Kazuki had shaken his head in response to both questions.

Issei tapped his fingers against his knees, and after some thought, he realized what the most likely scenarios would have been. “Were they making fun of you ‘cause you can’t talk, or was it ‘cause you’re still in diapers?”

Kazuki nodded, staring straight ahead at the wall.  

“Both?” Issei asked.

Kazuki nodded again. Unlike all the other four-year-olds at their preschool, he and Asami weren’t able to use the restroom consistently. They both struggled with knowing when they had to go, and sometimes, that meant they got there too late and wet themselves on the way. Accidents still happened often enough that they were required to wear diapers at preschool. 

“Well, they’re just being jerks, so don’t let ‘em get you down,” Issei said, scowling at the thought of other kids being mean to his little brother. “It’s okay that you can’t talk. And it’s okay that you still need diapers. Sometimes it takes a while to learn stuff, y’know. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

There was, as expected, no response from Kazuki in a verbal sense. But he did smile slightly as he looked over at Issei, meeting his gaze for a few seconds, as if thanking him for the encouragement. Then he looked down at his lap and sighed deeply, like the weight of the entire world was on his shoulders. 

Issei ruffled Kazuki’s hair. “If those other kids keep bothering you, just stay close to Ah-chan. You know she’ll tell ‘em off for you.”

Kazuki grunted and made a face.

“You don’t want her doing that?” Issei asked, studying Kazuki’s expression.

Kazuki shook his head. 

“Hm . . . You don’t want her getting in trouble?” Issei guessed, watching for a reply. 

Kazuki nodded. 

“Mom isn’t mad at her,” Issei said. “And she'll probably go clear things up at your school. So don’t worry too much about it.”

Kazuki’s mouth twisted reluctantly. 

“Hey,” Issei said, gently squeezing Kazuki’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay.”

There was a knock on the bedroom door. Without waiting for a reply, Yuko opened it and poked her head into the room. “Thought I might find you boys in here.”

“I heard you talking in the kitchen just now, and I wanted to make sure Kazu was alright,” Issei explained, putting his arm around Kazuki’s shoulders.

“That’s sweet of you,” Yuko said, smiling warmly. Then she looked at Kazuki, and her smile dimmed with concern. “How long has this kind of thing been going on, sweetheart?”

Kazuki shrugged. 

“Well, I’ll talk to your teacher tomorrow and see if she can keep a closer eye on you,” Yuko said, hugging herself as she leaned against the doorframe. “We don’t want Ah-chan taking things into her own hands again.”

An apprehensive frown tugged at the corners of Kazuki’s mouth.

“Ah-chan isn’t in trouble, is she?” Issei asked, feeling like that’s what Kazuki was worrying about.

“Not at this point,” Yuko replied, her voice soft and weary. “As long as it doesn’t happen on a regular basis, everything should be fine.”

That answer didn’t seem to make Kazuki feel any better.

At the age of three, Kazuki, Asami, and Rei started preschool together. In the year and a half since then, they’d had to switch schools three times already, all because Asami had been aggressive towards other children. Rei always switched as well, because Misumi and Yuko wanted to keep their kids at the same facility. But they would run out of options if it kept happening. There were only so many preschools in the area.

Yuko reached a hand towards Kazuki from the doorway. “Why don’t you come make dinner with me? You can wash the vegetables, and maybe I’ll even let you measure the spices.”

Without making a sound, Kazuki got up, taking his mother’s hand and leaving the room with her.

After that, Issei went over to Asami’s bedroom, knocking on the door before opening it and peeking inside. He didn’t see Asami at first. 

For anyone who didn’t know any better, they would think the room was empty. But for those who knew Asami well, her location was predictable, because she always went to one of two places when she was upset. She either hid under her bed, or she would squeeze herself into the small space between the dresser and the wall, making it so only her toes were visible from the doorway.

“Can I come in?” Issei asked, seeing Asami’s feet peeking out from between the dresser and the wall.

Instead of replying, Asami pulled her feet back, curling her toes so that she was better hidden. Then she let out a quiet sob. 

After a brief internal debate over whether or not he should intrude without invitation, Issei stepped into the room and went over to where Asami was hiding, sitting in front of her dresser so that they were kind of next to each other, both facing the same direction. “What were the other kids saying about Kazu?”

For almost thirty seconds, there was no reply, but Issei waited patiently for his sister to gather her thoughts. Sometimes she needed more time to process questions, especially when she was upset.

“Daigo-kun called Kazu dumb,” Asami finally said, sounding angry through her tears, in a way that was surprisingly fierce and powerful coming from such a frail child. She and Kazumi had been born early, like Issei, and they were just as thin as he was at their age. 

“Then what happened?” Issei asked, feeling like he probably would have wanted to bite someone as well, had he been in his sister’s place. But he had never actually been in a situation where he needed to personally stand up to a bully. On the rare occasion that someone was mean to him, Takahiro always stepped in and came to his defense.

“He . . . he said . . . he said we’re stinky babies,” Asami replied as she lifted her head, which revealed her red, puffy eyes. “We’re not babies . . . and we’re not stinky,” she continued, with fresh tears running down her face.

“So after he said that, you bit him?” Issei asked, his fists clenching up. He wished he could punch anyone who dared make fun of his siblings.

“I did two bites,” Asami replied in a guilty voice, sniffling and wiping her face on the knees of her pants. “I didn’t mean to.”

Serves him right, Issei wanted to say. But instead he said, “If you keep getting in trouble, it’s gonna make Kazu worry, and you might have to switch schools again, and then Mom’s gonna be stressed out. She’s already stressed out, y’know. We have to help her by being responsible . . . and by not biting people.”

“I won’t do it again,” Asami promised, her voice cracking and her eyes filling with tears again. She always cried at the drop of a hat, especially if she felt someone was disappointed in her. 

“That’s good,” Issei said, leaning over to peek at Asami, who was all balled up between the dresser and the wall. “You know, as long as your teacher doesn’t hear you, you can say whatever you want to those bullies.”

“Like what?” Asami asked, staring at her older brother as she blinked away tears. 

“Tell ‘em to shut up, or tell ‘em they look like an ogre’s butt,” Issei said. That was the kind of thing Takahiro would say whenever people tried to pick on either of them. “If they’re mean to you, be even meaner back.”

“Mommy told me not be . . . not to be mean,” Asami pointed out, though she wasn’t exactly one to follow rules and expectations. That was a frequent problem for her, both at home and at preschool. It was an accident most of the time, partially because she was forgetful, partially because she had a fiery temper that was hard to control, and partially because she was remarkably impulsive, even for a young child. 

“Yeah, but you’re allowed to be mean to bullies. It shuts them up and makes ‘em leave you alone,” Issei said, trying to sound wise, like a proper big brother. He was repeating what Takahiro’s mother often said about that kind of situation. “If you stand up for yourself, they’ll leave you alone.”

Asami thought about it for a few seconds. “What if they push Kazu down a cliff and then do a hundred bites on my arm?”

“Well . . .” Issei couldn’t help grinning at how ridiculous it would be for someone to get away with biting someone else one hundred times, or to push each other off a cliff from the safety of their preschool, which was nowhere near any dangerous drops. So he shrugged and spoke playfully. “I guess you’d have to bite ‘em back at least once or twice.”

That made Asami tilt her head and furrow her brow in confusion. “You said not to bite people.”

“I was just kidding. Don’t bite anyone else,” Issei said. “But you know, grown-ups do change their mind sometimes.”

Asami’s expression went flat, and her tone was sassy. “You’re not a grown-up.” 

“Yeah, well, even if I’m not a grown-up yet, I’m still way older than you,” Issei said, getting to his feet and standing up as tall as he could, with his hands on his hips. “And since I’m your big brother, it’s my job to watch out for you.”

“Am I Kazu’s big brother?” Asami asked, finally crawling out of her hiding place.

“You’re his sister, and you’re both the same age,” Issei replied. “Mom said you were born first though, so I guess you could say you’re his big sister.”

“Then I’m gonna watch him out . . . watch out for him,” Asami declared as she faced Issei and stood on her tip-toes, trying to make herself taller. 

“Alright,” Issei said, looking down at his sister with a nod of approval. They stared at each other with matching grins. “You watch out for him, and I’ll watch out for both of you.”

About two months before Issei’s tenth birthday, Takahiro talked him into going on an adventure during winter break, with Etsu coming along at the request of their parents. She was nearly through her first year of middle school, and was therefore thought of as a responsible chaperone for the outing the boys were planning. That was the burden she had to bear as the oldest child.

It was a cold day at the end of December when the three of them set off on their trip, if it could really be called that. They were just taking the train to a park on the far edge of town. The reason they wanted to go there was because it had snowed for the past week, and they were hoping to make a really big snowman, which would require lots of open space and loose snow. 

There was a big field at the park they were going to that would provide them with both of those things. 

All three of them were filled with various levels of excitement as they boarded the train, Takahiro with the most, and Etsu with the least, since she hadn’t really wanted to waste an entire day of her winter break on this outing. As for Issei, he was looking forward to it, but he wouldn’t have been disappointed if they ended up doing something else with their day. 

When the three of them boarded the train, they found that it was rather crowded for a Thursday, especially since it was already past rush hour. There was nowhere to sit, and hardly anywhere to stand. But then again, it was winter break, so there were many students traveling around to make the most of their freedom from school.

Like the other passengers, the three children were dressed warmly, and Issei was wearing a backpack, in which there was a boxed lunch for each of them and some thermoses of tea. Takahiro was also wearing a backpack, because someone had to carry all the random stuff they were going to decorate their snowman with.

The ride passed uneventfully, and they were soon at the station that was ten minutes from the park.

Etsu led the other two away from the train station. She was bundled up in a thick jacket, with boots, a scarf, gloves, a hat, and snow pants. Her chin-length hair, which had darkened into a rich auburn color over the years, was just peeking out from the bottom of her hat. She was quite tall for an almost-thirteen-year old, standing at 177 centimeters, and she probably didn’t have any more growth spurts ahead of her. 

Issei and Takahiro, on the other hand, still had a lot of growing left to do. With each growth spurt, they switched back and forth between who was taller. It was currently Issei who had the height advantage. Both boys were wearing the same kind of winter gear as Etsu, but it was cold enough outside that they still had pink cheeks, and they could see their breath whenever they exhaled. 

“Mom said we can stay until an hour before it gets dark,” Etsu remarked, sounding like she would much rather turn around and head home already.

“That should be enough time.” Takahiro had his hands in his pockets, and he was walking with a spring in his step. “We should work on the bottom of our snowman first.”

Issei hummed in agreement. 

“It’s not like we could start with the top,” Etsu pointed out, glancing at Takahiro over her shoulder. She didn’t have to blatantly doubt Takahiro’s intelligence with words, because her expression and tone of voice communicated that quite clearly. 

“Neh nah neh nah nah nuh nah nah neh,” Takahiro sneered, mimicking his sister’s haughty tone as he spoke gibberish.

Instead of giving a reply or punching Takahiro in the arm, like she sometimes did, Etsu just rolled her eyes and turned to focus on where she was walking. She had been trying to take the high road more often, claiming middle school had already made her more mature. But that only seemed true about half of the time. The other half was fair game for making fun of her little brother, which was behavior he was always willing to reciprocate.

Meanwhile, Issei pulled his scarf up to cover his mouth, since his lips were feeling dry from the cold air. The rest of their walk to the park was peaceful. Only the sound of well-trampled snow crunching beneath their boots, the murmurs of those walking around them, and the engines of the cars passing by on the street could be heard. 

As soon as they made it to the park, Takahiro dropped his backpack off at a bench near a giant field of grass, which was currently covered in a thick blanket of snow. He ran to the middle of the opening and fell to his knees, scooping snow up with his hands. Then he threw it above his head and let it fall on his face with a grin. After that, he began to gather snow for the snowman, creating a small pile and patting it down.

Issei left his own backpack at the bench and went over to join his friend. The two of them worked on building the base of their snowman, giving the task all of their energy and focus. 

“How big should we make the bottom layer?” Issei asked, glancing at Takahiro, who was crawling around on his hands and knees in order to push snow towards their snowman. 

“As big as we can,” Takahiro replied. His nose was red from the cold air surrounding him, and his cheeks were flushed from exertion. He had a very determined look on his face. After watching a video on the internet about the world’s biggest snowman, he got it in his mind that he and Issei could make a bigger, better one. He wanted to break the record. 

Even though Issei felt pretty sure they wouldn’t get anywhere close to accomplishing that goal, he still thought it would be a decent way to spend the day, especially since he was already done with most of his homework for winter break. Whether or not Takahiro had done his homework yet wasn’t clear. But there was only a week left until the sixth of January, which is when they went back to school.  

Etsu, whose birthday was just two days after school started up again, spent almost an hour sitting on the bench with the abandoned backpacks, texting friends and watching the two boys from afar. But she came to help out with building the snowman when staying still made her unpleasantly cold. 

“You guys do realize we don’t have a ladder or anything, right?”

“What’s your point?” Takahiro asked, patting the snowman’s bottom layer to help it stay together. It currently reached his waist, and it was about as wide as his arm span, or perhaps a little bit wider than that.

“We won’t be able to make it very tall,” Etsu replied. She stood near Issei, helping him pat the other side of the bottom layer. 

Takahiro paused his movements, thinking over the (should have been obvious) issue that he clearly hadn’t anticipated. But before too long, he shrugged, getting back to work. “We’ll figure something out.”

It wasn’t uncommon for Takahiro to display that level of casual confidence, and Issei found it admirable. He himself tended to deeply analyze a project before starting it, which usually ended with him feeling overwhelmed before taking the first step. His skills for being detail-oriented and thorough felt like a burden sometimes. 

However, when Takahiro was part of the planning process, the what-ifs and fine details were saved for later. Charging in at full power and figuring it out as he went was his preferred method. Things often ended in mild-to-moderate disaster with him at the helm, but most of the time, the memories they made were worth the trouble. 

They worked on the base of the snowman for right around two hours, at which point they got it to about five meters wide, with the top of it reaching Takahiro’s chest. He was currently the shortest of the three of them, but getting it that tall was still impressive. The only problem was that they were having to go further and further away from it to get more snow. They had cleared a large chunk of the field already, and the trips for more snow from the other side were wearing them out.

“Man, I’m starving,” Takahiro said, brushing his gloves against each other, which helped remove the snow that was clinging to them.

Issei adjusted his scarf, uncovering his mouth. “Me too.” 

“Let’s go have lunch.” Etsu started walking towards the bench that held their backpacks, and the other two followed behind her. 

While the three of them sat on the bench, they got into their packed lunches, devouring them quickly. All the snow relocating they had done left them with big appetites. There wasn’t a crumb left when they were finished eating, and in retrospect, bringing two lunches each would have been wiser.

“I wish we had more food,” Takahiro muttered, putting the lid back on his little wooden lunch box. “I’m still hungry.”

“There’s tea,” Issei said, pulling out his thermos. 

Etsu was already drinking from hers. “It’s nice and hot.”

“Yeah, but that’s not food,” Takahiro complained, getting his thermos out of Issei’s backpack and unscrewing the lid. He took a long drink before making a suggestion. “We should go buy some pork buns.”

“With what money?” Etsu asked, her voice dry. “I’m not buying you anything.”

“I’m not asking you to,” Takahiro said, patting his backpack. “I’ve got the money Mom, Dad, and Grandma gave me for New Year’s.” 

Etsu shook her head in disapproval. “You’re supposed to save your gift money for important stuff, not waste it on food.”

“Food is important,” Takahiro argued as he loosened his scarf. “I’d literally die without it.”

Issei took a sip of his tea before chiming in. “Pork buns do sound really good right now.”

“Don’t they?” Takahiro grinned, holding his thermos under his chin so the warmth from his tea could reach his mouth and nose. “I’ll buy some for you.”

“You don’t have to,” Issei said as he watched a scruffy dog run across the large field, with its owner trailing behind it, like it had gotten off its leash. It went right past their snowman. “I’ve got money with me.”

“Save it for a rainy day,” Takahiro insisted, putting the lid back on his thermos and slipping it into his own backpack. Then he got to his feet and swung his arms back and forth, like he was trying to warm them up. “Let’s go to that little shop we saw on the way here. There was a sign in the window for pork buns.”

“You would notice that,” Etsu said, taking another sip of her tea. She had one arm resting over the back of the bench. “I’ll stay here with your backpacks so you don’t have to carry them.”

“Nah, let’s take them with us.” Takahiro put his backpack on and reached for Issei’s, offering it to him. “I feel like going home after we get pork buns.”

Issei put his thermos into his backpack, taking it from Takahiro afterwards and standing up to slip it on. “What about the snowman?”

Takahiro shrugged. “I’m bored of making it.”

“Wow, what a surprise,” Etsu said, looking smug. “I knew this would happen.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Takahiro asked, crossing his arms as he stood beside his best friend. 

“You’re a quitter. A flake. I’ve never seen you follow through with anything in your entire life,” Etsu exaggerated, earning a brief glare from her brother. Then she stood up, holding her thermos in one hand as she followed Issei and Takahiro, both of whom had started to walk away. She easily caught up to them, walking beside Issei and elbowing him. “Doesn’t he always give up on stuff?”

“Not most of the time,” Issei said in Takahiro’s defense, though it wasn’t quite the truth. His best friend did have a habit of starting something new, getting bored of it, then abandoning it. Takahiro’s bedroom was like a graveyard for random hobby supplies.

And so Issei, like Etsu, had secretly been expecting the snowman project to be short-lived. 

“Yeah, I don’t always do that.” Takahiro put his hands in his pockets as he walked ahead of Issei and Etsu, leading them towards where he had seen the shop that sold pork buns. “I’m just not gonna waste my time on boring stuff. I thought it would be fun to make a snowman, but it made me cold and tired. That’s the opposite of fun.”

“You’re actually just lazy,” Etsu said. “Always have been, always will be.”

“Am not,” Takahiro snapped, glancing over his shoulder. 

“Are too,” Etsu said. She and the others had just made it to the sidewalk, leaving the park behind them. “You avoid hard work whenever you can, and you always put off your homework until the last minute. It’s gonna be impossible to break those habits if you don’t start working on it. At this rate, you’ll never get into college.”

“Who cares about college? There’s still, like . . . ten years before I’ve gotta think about that,” Takahiro rebutted, weaving around a woman who was walking past him. “And besides, Grandma says hard work is good, but smart work is better, ‘cause we’ve only got one body. So excuse me for not wanting to wear mine out.”

Issei was about to agree with Takahiro’s claim, just to help him win his argument. But he had the misfortune of slipping on an icy part of the sidewalk. He fell forward, trying to catch himself with his hands, his right one meeting the sidewalk first. That’s when he heard a crack, followed by the strangest pain he had ever felt in his life. It was like his arm had the same kind of discomfort that a headache would cause. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t so bad that he felt the need to burst out in tears, which would have only added to his embarrassment over falling. 

“Are you okay?” 

Takahiro and Etsu had spoken at the same time, both reaching down to offer a helping hand. 

“I’m fine.” Issei grabbed both of their hands, letting them pull him up. But he hissed in pain when Takahiro tugged on his right arm.

Takahiro immediately let go, holding both of his hands up. “Sorry!”

“It’s okay,” Issei said, cradling his right arm against himself after Etsu finished helping him up. “That side just feels weird . . . it hurt when you pulled on it.”

Etsu was staring at Issei’s arm. Or rather, at his jacket sleeve, which was hiding his arm. “I thought I heard a snapping sound when you fell.”

“So did I,” Takahiro said, his eyes filling with uneasiness, which was rare for him. He had an incredibly carefree attitude about most things, including his own injuries. “Do you think it’s broken?”

“I’m not sure,” Issei said, moving his arm to test how much discomfort it gave him. It wasn’t as painful as he thought a break would feel. “I don’t think it’s that bad. It does hurt to move it, but it only aches a little bit if I keep it still.”

Etsu took her flip phone out of her pocket. She had been given one when she started middle school, much to Takahiro’s frustration. He hadn’t thought it was fair that she got one and he didn’t. But of course, that was one of the perks of being the oldest.

“I’m calling Dad to see what we should do,” Etsu said, staring at her phone with a serious expression. She held it to her ear after dialing her father’s number. 

“You don’t have to bother him,” Issei mumbled, not wanting to be a burden. 

“He won’t mind,” Takahiro said, his features still clouded with apprehension. Then he nodded at a coffee shop they were standing in front of. “Let’s go wait inside there.”  

“Okay,” Issei said, holding his arm against his chest again. He was starting to get nauseous, and he was still feeling embarrassed. That fall seemed like it happened out of nowhere.

The two boys went inside and found an empty table in the back corner of the room, sitting across from each other. They waited there as Etsu called her father. She was just outside, and they could see her through the large front window of the coffee shop. Her phone was held against her ear, and she was pacing, going back and forth in front of the window. 

“It looks like they serve food here,” Issei remarked, glancing over at the menu that was above the counter, across the room from them. He was trying to ignore the ache in his arm, focusing on helping Takahiro find a warm meal instead. “Maybe they have something you like.”

“I’m not hungry anymore,” Takahiro said in a low voice. He set his backpack down and pulled off his scarf, which he was squeezing between his hands as he stared at Issei’s arm. “How’s it feeling now?”

“Like having an upset stomach, but in my arm,” Issei replied with a weak grin, trying to lighten the mood for Takahiro’s benefit as much as his own. The pain was radiating worse than it had been at first. But he didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing, so he firmly told himself it wasn’t that bad.

“We should’ve stayed at the park longer,” Takahiro muttered, looking down at his hands, which were still clutching his scarf. “Then this wouldn’t have happened.”

“Maybe,” Issei said, suddenly feeling a cold sweat break out over his forehead. Takahiro’s voice had sounded far away. The pain was getting even worse, to the point it was hard to ignore, and even harder to focus on anything else. 

Takahiro studied Issei’s face. “You don’t look so good.”

“I’m fine,” Issei lied, trying to seem like he really meant it by forcing a smile. 

Just then, Etsu came into the coffee shop. She had to navigate around a large group of people who were leaving all together, and by the look on her face, that slight delay was rather annoying for her. Patience wasn’t her strong point, especially when she was stressed out. 

“My dad wants to talk to you,” she said once she reached the table, offering the phone to Issei.

He took it with his left hand and held it to his ear, keeping his right arm as still as possible. “Hello?”

“Hey, kiddo,” Mr. Hanamaki said, sounding calm. “Heard you fell and hurt your arm.”

“Yeah,” Issei said, swallowing hard. Takahiro was right. He really didn’t feel good, like he might cry at any moment, or maybe even throw up. The nausea was increasing with the pain. 

Mr. Hanamaki worked as a pediatrician at a local medical clinic, co-owning it with a handful of other doctors, and that’s where he was at the moment. “Can you describe how it’s feeling?”

“It hurts a little, like, uh, achy in the middle,” Issei replied, his voice trembling slightly, almost cracking. “It’s not . . . uhm . . . not really that bad though.”

“Is there any visible swelling, odd lumps, or bruising on your arm?”

“I’m not sure.” Issei looked at his arm. “I have a jacket on.”

“Will you check for me?”

Issei didn’t like the idea of moving his arm around to remove his jacket. If he did that, he was sure he wouldn’t be able to hold back his tears any more. “It’s . . . it would be too . . . I can’t . . .”

“Alright, that’s okay,” Mr. Hanamaki said, still sounding calm. “An examination in person would be the best thing. I’m about to see one more patient before taking my lunch break, so I can’t come to where you are. Do you think you kids can find your way to my office?”

“Uhm . . . yeah,” Issei replied, finding it almost impossible to focus because of how his arm was throbbing. It was worsening by the second, not just aching, but also burning. He didn’t know why he had said it wasn’t that bad before, and he couldn’t seem to admit that he was now in a great deal of pain.

“Hang in there for me, pal,” Mr. Hanamaki said in a warm and reassuring tone. “I’ll see you soon.”

Without saying goodbye, Issei closed the flip phone and gave it back to Etsu, who was standing beside him. His throat was tight, and his words were barely audible. “He wants us to meet him at the clinic.”

“That’s all the way across town,” Etsu said, staring at Issei with a shrewd gaze, as if she knew exactly how much he was suffering. Then again, she might have just been worried in general. “Can you make it to the train station?”

Issei nodded hesitantly. He knew it was about a five minute walk to the train station, with at least one transfer, and then they would have to walk to the clinic. Even though he had been there many times, he didn’t know how long that second walk would take. But there was no other choice. Somehow, he would have to force himself to endure it. 

“We could get a taxi instead,” Takahiro suggested, having seen the look of reluctance and wariness on Issei’s face.

“That’ll be expensive,” Etsu cautioned. She was still standing near the table, and her hand gravitated towards the pocket of her jacket, where her wallet was located. Likely as not, she was considering whether she should help pay for a taxi—even though she hated spending money. “At least 6000 yen.”

“I’ve got more than that with me,” Takahiro said, taking his wallet out of his backpack and opening it. There were a dozen 1000 yen bills inside. 

Etsu raised her eyebrows in disbelief. “Did you bring all the gift money you got?”

“Yeah,” Takahiro replied, shrugging nonchalantly as he put his wallet away. Then he stood up, wrapping his scarf around his neck and slipping his backpack on. “I wanted to buy food while we were out, and I didn’t know how much I’d need.”

Issei felt like he should insist that Takahiro save his money for something else, but the idea of not having to walk was too appealing to resist. So he let his best friend spring for a taxi, which they hailed from the sidewalk in front of the coffee shop. Under different circumstances, that would have been exciting, since none of them had ever taken a taxi without an adult. 

However, the mood among them was somber and full of worry. All three of them sat in the back of the taxi, and Issei was in the middle, doing everything he could to avoid being bumped around. He hadn’t even taken his backpack off, leaving it on for the ride, because he didn’t want to slide the strap over his arm. As for his seatbelt, Takahiro and Etsu had worked together to get him buckled without touching his arm. 

The three of them were especially quiet throughout the drive. Thanks to a significant amount of traffic, they didn’t make it to the clinic that Takahiro and Etsu’s father worked at until about forty-five minutes later. Still, the train wouldn’t have been any faster, and the taxi was much more private. 

By the time they were all getting out of the taxi, Issei wasn’t able to speak, and he was hardly aware of his surroundings. The pain in his arm was unbearable—he was hanging on to his composure by the thinnest thread in the universe. It was all he could do to avoid breaking down in tears, but he didn’t want to alarm anyone. So he bore it silently. 

Etsu had texted her father when they were a few minutes away, and he came outside to wait for them, having just finished with the patient he was seeing. They all met in front of the clinic and went inside together.

“I didn’t expect you kids to show up in a taxi,” Mr. Hanamaki remarked, leading them through the lobby of the clinic, which was full of patients. “How’d you afford it?”

“Takahiro used his gift money. He didn’t think Issei should have to ride the train when he’s hurt,” Etsu said, sounding like she was actually kind of proud of her younger brother, not that she would ever admit to that. 

“Really?” Mr. Hanamaki seemed to mirror Etsu’s feelings. He looked at Takahiro, flashing a heartfelt grin. “That was very generous of you.”

Takahiro had an arm looped around Issei’s uninjured one, and he didn’t react much to the praise from his father, just humming softly in response. His attention was focused elsewhere. He kept glancing at Issei, who was sweating and breathing quickly, with his jaw clenched shut. 

Mr. Hanamaki led them through the clinic, going down two hallways, until they made it to an unoccupied room. Then he looked at Issei and patted the exam table. “First things first, we’ll have to get the jacket off so I can take a look at your arm.” 

Issei nodded dizzily, letting Takahiro and Mr. Hanamaki help him up onto the exam table. His right arm was all but glued to his chest at that point. But when Mr. Hanamaki started to take his backpack off, he had to move it enough for the strap to slip past his injury. That alone was almost enough to make him cry out.

Etsu sat down in one of the two chairs in the room, the other being used for Issei and Takahiro’s backpacks. She was staring at the others with an unreadable expression. As someone who wanted to be a doctor someday, she was probably taking mental notes about how to assess an injured arm. Her mind was a sponge like that.

As for Takahiro, he remained standing, not leaving Issei’s side. It was like he couldn’t bring himself to be any farther away than he currently was at that moment. 

“I’ll be as gentle as I can,” Mr. Hanamaki said, unzipping the front of Issei’s jacket. 

Issei slipped his uninjured arm out first, gritting his teeth when Mr. Hanamaki slowly pulled the jacket off of his right arm. The pain was so bad that he almost threw up in his mouth a little bit. Standing on his left, Takahiro reached for his hand, holding it tightly. 

Underneath the jacket was a long-sleeve shirt, which had to be rolled up, revealing his injury. There was a large bruise on the side of his arm, not too far below his wrist. It was noticeably swollen.

“Can you wave your hand on that side?” Mr. Hanamaki asked, staring at Issei’s right arm.

Issei tried, but it was too painful, so he shook his head. A few tears escaped before he could stop them, and a whimper got caught in his throat. 

Mr. Hanamaki looked closer at Issei’s arm as he held it up, with one hand supporting his elbow and the other holding his fingers. Then he glanced at Issei’s face, which had gone quite pale. “I’d like to feel the bruise. Is that alright?”

Despite being extremely lightheaded, Issei managed to nod, clenching his jaw in anticipation for another wave of pain. He could barely feel Takahiro squeeze his left hand. There were drops of sweat running down his forehead, and more tears slipped out when Mr. Hanamaki ran his fingers over the bruised area, gently prodding it. He nearly fainted after that.

“Almost done,” Mr. Hanamaki said. “You’re doing great.”

Issei’s hands felt cold, as did the skin above his upper lip, which was damp from sweat, just like most of his body was at that point. He glanced at Takahiro in desperation, wanting his help somehow, if only that were possible. Their gazes met for a long moment. His discomfort was reflecting back at him, mirrored in Takahiro’s worried expression. 

“We’ll need an x-ray to confirm, but it’s probably broken,” Mr. Hanamaki said, softly moving Issei’s arm down to rest on his lap. “Are you feeling dizzy, nauseous, or cold in your hands and feet?”

Issei nodded, unable to say that all of those things were an accurate description of how he was feeling. 

“I want you to rest with your feet up,” Mr. Hanamaki said, reaching to adjust the exam table so that it was flat. He helped Issei lie down and put a few pillows under his ankles to elevate them. “Try to take nice, slow breaths. The most important thing right now is to remain calm.”

Once he was lying flat, Issei felt slightly less dizzy. But he was still breathing too fast, his body still felt cold, and his stomach was still churning.

“I’m going to count to five, and I want you to slowly breathe in the whole time. Then we’ll do the same thing when you breathe out,” Mr. Hanamaki said, putting his hand on Issei’s chest, right above his stomach. “Breathe in for one . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five . . . Hold it for a few seconds . . . Now let it out slowly, one . . . two . . . three . . . four . . . five.”

Issei followed Mr. Hanamaki’s instructions, breathing in slowly, and letting it out slowly. They went through that together a few more times.

“That’s good, Issei. Just like that. You’re doing great,” Mr. Hanamaki said. Then he turned to leave the room. “I’m going to touch base with your mom and have my assistant reschedule the rest of my appointments today. I’ll be right back. Keep counting while you breathe, alright? Five in, hold it, five out.”

After watching Mr. Hanamaki leave, Issei let go of Takahiro’s hand so that he could use the back of his left wrist to wipe his eyes, which were still wet with tears. He kept counting in his head as he breathed in and out. Doing so was calming him down a little bit, but the pain was still really bad. 

“I wonder how long you’ll have to wear a cast,” Etsu remarked, absentmindedly fiddling with the strap of Issei’s backpack. “You won’t be able to write for a while.”

“Oh no, my essay,” Issei whispered, suddenly remembering the homework that needed to be finished before winter break was over. He wasn’t done with his essay—which was the last thing he needed to do. Thinking of that made him panic, and he started breathing faster again.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Takahiro said, putting his hand on Issei’s chest, just like his father had. “I’ll write it for you.”

“I know for a fact you haven’t even started yours yet,” Etsu pointed out dryly. She was staring at Takahiro, with her elbow on the edge of the counter near her chair, and her chin resting on her fist.

Takahiro glared at his older sister. “I’ll just write them at the same time.”

“Good luck with that,” Etsu said. Then she turned to the chair beside her, pulling a thermos out of one of the backpacks. “Want some tea, Issei?”

Before an answer was given, Takahiro snatched the thermos from Etsu and opened the lid. Then he went back to Issei’s side, carefully lifting his head with one hand, and holding the thermos to his mouth. “I’m gonna help you with everything until your arm gets better.”

Issei hadn’t really wanted any tea, but since it was already open and in front of him, he took a drink of it. 

“You’re shaking,” Takahiro observed, handing the thermos back to Etsu, who put it away with an irritated look. “Want me to cover your legs with your jacket?”

“Sure,” Issei replied, his voice weak. The room was cold, and he still had a clammy feeling all over his body, especially his hands and face. 

“Don’t forget to do the slow breathing,” Etsu said, watching Takahiro drape Issei’s jacket over his legs. “Five seconds in, five seconds out.”

Thanks to Etsu’s reminder, Issei went back to counting in his head, timing each breath to slow it down.

“You’re still shaking,” Takahiro said, staring at Issei after adjusting the jacket. “Want me to find a blanket?”

Issei nodded.

However, it wasn’t necessary for Takahiro to search for one, because Mr. Hanamaki came back in with a blanket, a small box, and a wheelchair. “I need to put a splint on your arm, and then we’ll go to the hospital.”

“Can I come?” Takahiro asked.

“It would be better for you and your sister to go home.”

Mr. Hanamaki started putting Issei’s right arm in a splint, which was what had been in the box. Even though his movements were careful, it still caused Issei to cry out and squeeze his eyes shut, so Takahiro grabbed his hand again. 

After watching the splint go on, Etsu stood up and gathered the two backpacks, preparing to get herself and her brother out of the way. “Let’s head to the train station.”

“No, I wanna go to the hospital,” Takahiro insisted as he helped his father get Issei from the exam table to the wheelchair, his actions slow and cautious. Then he put the blanket on Issei’s lap and looked at his father with his most pitiful expression. “Please?”

Mr. Hanamaki stared at Takahiro for a few seconds. Finally, he sighed and started rolling Issei out of the room, speaking over his shoulder. “Alright, you can come.”

“Me too?” Etsu asked in a hesitant tone. 

“Sure,” Mr. Hanamaki said, cracking a small grin. “Might as well make an event out of it. After all, it’s not every day you get the opportunity to sign your friend’s cast right after they get it.”

And so the four of them left the clinic, though Takahiro and Etsu still had to go to the train station, using that method to get to the hospital. Not all of them could ride in the ambulance, which Mr. Hanamaki had called for when he was out of the room. 

As it turned out, Issei’s arm was definitely broken, but not so badly that he would need surgery to reset the bones. The healing was expected to be straightforward. His right arm was put in a cast, and he had to keep it on for a few months, during which time Takahiro faithfully helped him with all of his schoolwork. He also got a fair amount of attention from his classmates when winter break was over, since he was the only one among them that had ever had a broken bone. Everyone wanted to sign his cast and draw on it, but Takahiro and Etsu (and even Mr. Hanamaki) were the ones whose names and doodles were written on it first.

Age 10

The whole Matsukawa family was gathered around the dining room table, and with them was Takahiro, who was staying the night. Sleepovers happened so frequently between him and Issei that they were almost always at each other’s home—mostly when there wasn’t school, though they did have sleepovers on school nights now and then. 

It was Issei’s turn to host this time, because he had already spent the first half of spring break at Takahiro’s house. And at the moment, he was watching his sister refuse to eat her dinner, as she often did. 

“Ah-chan, why aren’t you eating your soup?” Yuko asked, staring at her almost five-year-old daughter from across the table. “It’s the one you like.”

“I don’t want it,” Asami replied grumpily. Her arms were crossed, and she was wrinkling her nose in disgust. “It tastes bad.”

“Really?” Yuko frowned, glancing at her own bowl of soup, which she hadn’t gotten around to trying yet. “I made it the same as always.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” Mr. Matsukawa gave Asami a sharp look, like a warning to start behaving, or else face the consequences. “She’s just being picky.”

Yuko looked at her husband, then looked back at Asami, remaining calm and patient. “You’ve asked for that soup every day for the past two weeks, sweetheart. Do you not like it anymore?”

“It’s yucky,” Asami replied, pushing her bowl of soup further away from herself. 

“Don’t say that,” Mr. Matsukawa scolded. “It’s not true. You’re being impolite, and you’re disrespecting your mother.”

“It is true,” Asami insisted, her chin quivering as her eyes filled with tears of indignation. “I’m not lying!”

Mr. Matsukawa pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “Eat it, or you won’t get dessert.”

“That’s not fair!” Asami shouted, her voice loud enough to make Kazuki, who was beside her, cover his ears.   

“Well, life’s not fair,” Mr. Matsukawa retorted, turning his attention to his dinner.

Asami let out a shriek and banged her fists on the table several times, which rattled the bowl of soup that she had only taken a single bite of. It also nearly knocked over her cup of water. Her face was scrunched up with frustration, and she was blinking away tears.

Mr. Matsukawa’s eyes were full of anger as he stared at Asami, though he was still working on his food, slowly taking another bite. He wouldn’t make a scene when company was there to see it. 

Yuko was glancing back and forth between her husband and her daughter, like she didn’t know what to do.

Meanwhile, Issei quietly worked on his food, trying not to draw any attention to himself. He didn’t like these kinds of situations—ones where his father was grouchy, his sister was upset, and the two of them got locked in a battle of wills. 

After a few moments, Yuko sighed. “Please just eat it, Ah-chan. There’s ice cream sandwiches for dessert tonight . . . the chocolate chip cookie ones.”

“I can’t eat it,” Asami said, glaring down at her bowl of soup like it had personally wronged her. “It feels yucky in my mouth.”

“Then no dessert,” Mr. Matsukawa said in a way that was firm and final, which resulted in Asami throwing herself on the ground next to her chair. He was done eating already, so he stood up and headed towards the hallway. Dealing with emotional outbursts was something he usually left to his wife. “I’ll be in my office.”

Issei and Takahiro had both finished their food already, as had Kazuki, who was sitting close to Asami’s seat. He was watching his twin sister thrash around on the floor with a concerned frown, and his hands were covering his ears again. 

Then there was Yuko, who was rubbing her temples and looking totally worn out. It would seem she didn’t have the energy to address Asami directly, whether that would have meant comforting her or scolding her, though she usually went with the first option. As she often told Misumi during their weekly night out, she felt her husband was much too harsh with the twins, especially in Asami’s case, and especially when it came to food. 

She and her husband had two different mindsets when it came to that. 

Yuko was alright with giving alternatives if the main meal wasn’t appealing to her daughter, who was a notoriously picky eater. She had been the same way as a child, and she felt that her own mother’s lax approach to mealtimes had helped her grow out of it, without leaving any lasting effects on her relationship with food. But it was Mr. Matsukawa’s firm belief that children should always eat what they’d been given, and that they would always do so if they got hungry enough. 

This wasn’t a topic that had ever come up when Issei was their only child. He wasn’t particular about food at all—in fact, he would try anything once, and then try it again for good measure, even if he didn’t like it the first time. He had, in almost every way and by most standards, been an easy baby, who turned into a relatively easy toddler, who had become a rather agreeable child. Any other child would have felt like a challenge in comparison, even ones that didn’t have as many struggles as his younger siblings.  

It was no secret that Issei was his father’s favorite. That was never said out loud, but sometimes actions and behavior spoke much louder than words. 

Issei wasn’t often yelled at and was almost never struck by his father, which wasn’t the case for his siblings, much to his mother’s distress. Method and frequency of punishment was another thing his parents didn’t agree upon. And like the different mindsets about mealtime, it hadn’t been something they realized they disagreed about until the twins came along.

Over the next couple of minutes, Asami continued to cry, and Yuko finished her dinner with an apprehensive expression, as if she were having a miserable time. No one else moved or spoke. At least, not until Yuko did. 

“Are you boys ready for dessert?”

“Yeah,” Issei said, trying to be heard over Asami’s loud wails. 

Takahiro nodded at Yuko, not appearing to be disturbed by Asami’s outburst, or by the stress in the atmosphere. He was around often enough to be used to it. 

Then there was Kazuki, who didn’t look at his mother at all. He was still watching his twin sister. His eyes were fixed on her, though he was still covering his ears to block out the noise. It was easy to see that he wanted her to stop crying, both to relieve the discomfort it caused him, and to make her feel better. He was always deeply affected when she was in pain, be it physically or emotionally. 

There was a brief moment where Yuko looked at Asami, like there was something she wanted to say, perhaps to comfort her, or maybe to distract her. But she ended up saying nothing. Instead, she stacked all the dirty dishes and left the room. 

A couple of minutes later, she brought back three plates, each with an ice cream sandwich on it. She gave one to Issei and Takahiro, then set the other down in front of Kazuki, glancing at Asami regretfully when she was done with that. 

Asami sat up on the ground and wiped her eyes, pouting as she stared at the plates on the table. “I want one.”

“I’m sorry, Ah-chan,” Yuko said, turning toward the kitchen to wash the dishes. She spoke in a way that seemed reluctant. “You heard what your dad said.”

When her mother left the room, Asami’s eyes filled with tears, and she sank back down onto the floor. Her breath started coming in quick gasps, a sure sign that she was about to burst into tears again.

But before Asami could get all worked up, Kazuki stealthily held his dessert towards her, keeping his eyes on his mother to make sure she didn’t turn away from the kitchen sink. 

“I can have it?” Asami whispered, sniffling and wiping her nose on her sleeve.

Kazuki nodded, his eyes still on his mother. 

“Thank you,” Asami said in a quiet voice. She took the ice cream sandwich, going under the table with it, where she couldn’t be seen as she quickly ate it. 

Issei was about to take a bite of his ice cream sandwich, but when he saw Kazuki give his dessert away, he decided he didn’t need any for himself. He reached across the table, offering his own dessert to his little brother. 

Kazuki took the ice cream sandwich from Issei, smiling at him appreciatively, which was all the thanks he was able to give. He still couldn’t communicate with words. Nobody had ever heard him speak, not even once. 

“Here,” Takahiro said, holding his own ice cream sandwich in front of Issei, having only taken one small bite. 

“It’s okay,” Issei replied. He knew how much Takahiro liked sweets. “I don’t need it.”

“Everyone needs dessert,” Takahiro insisted, still holding the ice cream sandwich in front of Issei’s face. “Besides, I’m not really that hungry.”

Issei hesitated. But when it became clear that Takahiro had made up his mind, he took the ice cream sandwich and broke it into two equal parts, giving half of it back to his best friend. “There, now we’ve both got some.”

“Perfect,” Takahiro said with a grin. He ate his half of the ice cream sandwich, then let out a content sigh, patting his stomach. “What should we do now?”

“Let’s go watch TV,” Issei suggested, his mouth slightly full. Once he was done chewing, he stood up and walked around the table, heading for the living room. But then Kazuki caught his wrist and looked at him with a hopeful expression. He stared at his little brother, who made motions with his free hand like he was stacking something. It took him a second to figure out what he meant. “Oh yeah, you’ve got that new lego set. Did you want help with it?”

Kazuki nodded.

“How about after we watch something for a bit?” Issei suggested, since it was still early enough to do both. He wanted to sit for a while and let his food settle. 

Kazuki nodded again, picking up everyone’s plate before going to wash his hands at the kitchen sink, where his mother was still doing dishes. Then he followed Issei to the living room, as did the others, though Asami had to sneakily get some napkins from the table to wipe the evidence off her face and hands before joining them. 

“Let’s pick a movie,” Takahiro said, squatting down to sort through the small collection that was on a shelf under the television. 

“I want Kiki’s Delivery Service.” Asami had come to stand right next to Takahiro, and she was pointing at the case that held her preferred choice. 

However, Kazuki pointed to a different movie.

“Okay, we can watch that one.” Asami had been quick to agree. If not for her twin brother giving up his dessert for her, she probably wouldn’t have been quite as generous. 

“I haven’t seen that yet.” Takahiro pulled it off the shelf, looking at the back so he could read the description. “It sounds cool.”

“It’s pretty good,” Issei said, taking the case from Takahiro and opening it. Then he put the disc in the DVD player and started the movie. He and the others sat on the couch afterwards, squeezing under a large blanket together. It was a brisk evening, and the windows of the house were all open, letting a cool breeze of fresh air blow through. It was the perfect weather for movie watching.

Less than two hours later, they all went to help Kazuki build his new lego set, which would be added to the collection of finished ones that sat on his wide bookshelf. There was only space for a few more sets. 

Asami didn’t actually help that much. She was in and out of the room, keeping the others company in between doing her own thing. Her attention span was short when it came to activities that didn’t hold her interest. 

Kazuki couldn’t quite put lego sets together himself, especially when it came to the particularly complicated ones that had hundreds, if not thousands, of pieces. Those were his favorite, and building them together was something he enjoyed doing with his older brother. But he didn’t like playing with the finished product. Instead, he preferred keeping them on his bookshelf, where he could admire them without the risk of breaking them. 

After finishing the dishes and doing some other cleaning in the kitchen, Yuko came to Kazuki’s bedroom door, looking in to check on them. She had a snack for them, though it was mainly for Asami’s sake. She didn’t want her going to bed on an empty stomach. 

Issei and Takahiro were calmly talking to each other as they sorted pieces, and Kazuki was putting a few blocks on the base of his lego castle, humming to himself as he did so. He always hummed when he was concentrating. Asami was sitting on the floor beside the bed, drawing on her legs with washable markers. She was allowed to do that as long as she hadn’t had her bath yet.

Yuko smiled, watching the children silently from the doorway. It wasn’t always that peaceful around the house, so when these kinds of moments came, she tended to appreciate them and commit them to memory. 

Age 11

Issei and Takahiro were eleven years old, and it was the summer break of their final year of elementary school. The sweltering heat of August had driven them to a nearby river, which had shallow banks, lots of shade, and a decent amount of fish, frogs, dragonflies, and other river-dwelling wildlife. They wanted to swim there and waste the day together.

However, they were forced to take their younger siblings, since their parents were busy, Grandma wasn’t feeling well, and Etsu was at a friend’s house. So they brought the trio of six-year-olds along with them. 

Asami had grown more and more different from her twin brother with each passing year. They both had black hair, dark brown eyes, and scrawny physiques—but that’s where the similarities ended. She was outgoing and friendly, impulsive, quick to anger and frustration, even quicker to cry, talked a mile a minute when she was excited, and had little to no sense of when something was dangerous. 

Kazuki, on the other hand, was reserved and timid, careful, hesitant about new things, and gave off an appearance of being wise beyond his years, though that was only because of the way he carried himself in such a stiff and unassuming manner. As far as what he was actually thinking at any given moment, it was never entirely clear, because he almost never spoke. He could speak now, very briefly and on rare occasions, but he was still unable to do so most of the time.

And then there was Takahiro’s little sister, Rei, who was quiet around strangers and playful with those she knew well. She had a vivid imagination and a crooked smile, and much like her father, she was always quick to make cheesy jokes. She also had her father’s dark brown hair, which she often wore in pigtails, though she did have hints of the pinkish-red highlights that her mother had passed down to her siblings. Across the bridge of her nose, she had her mother’s freckles, but it didn’t look like she would have her mother’s height. She was already shorter than both of her siblings had been at her age. 

Whenever she and Kazuki played together, she did all the narration for what their toys were doing, and all of the speaking for each character. That was a system that worked well for them. 

At the present moment, Rei and Kazuki were entertaining themselves by sitting under the shade of a tree, where they were playing with mud, sticks, and stones. Rei had named each of the sticks, and they were creating a village for their little stick people.

Asami was the one giving the older kids a run for their money. She wouldn’t stay close to the group, so Issei begrudgingly started following her around, since he had made a promise to their mother about keeping a very close eye on her. 

Meanwhile, Takahiro stayed with his little sister and Kazuki, sprawling out near them to rest his eyes. He was lying on a patch of grass that was near the tree, not far from the mud and rocks that were being turned into a village.

After running around in the shallows for quite a long time, Asami turned her focus to finding frogs, and Issei didn’t feel like sitting in the sun any longer. Dangling his legs in the river wasn’t keeping him cool enough. 

“Let’s go back and sit with the others,” Issei suggested. He was perched on a rock right beside the water, and he stuck his hands under the surface, splashing it on his face and bare chest. He had left his shirt under the tree with his and everyone else’s stuff. “It’s hot over here.”

“No,” Asami said, her eyes and expression as stubborn as her tone. She was standing a few paces away from where Issei was sitting, with her back to him. “I’m still looking for frogs.”

Issei stood up and sighed, looking behind himself. He could see Takahiro resting peacefully on the grass, and just beyond his feet were Rei and Kazuki, who were focused on what they were doing. The shady area below the tree was calling to him, and he silently cursed the universe for giving him such a headstrong little sister. She seemed to get more and more willful as time went on. 

“I’m in charge, and I say we’re going back,” Issei ordered. He crossed his arms for emphasis, but it didn’t do any good. 

“No,” Asami said plainly, still not facing Issei’s direction. Her hands were in the water, like she was trying to catch something. “I’m staying here.”

Issei’s neck, shoulders, and back were darkened from the sun, which had overheated him, making him irritable. “If you don’t listen, I’ll take you home.”

“I won’t go.” Asami turned towards Issei, meeting his gaze with an unyielding look in her eyes. She had an almost wild appearance, with her tangly hair falling loose around her shoulders, and her baggy clothes clinging to her wet skin. “You can’t make me.”

There was no use arguing with her. She was the type to dig her heels in and fight against being ordered around, no matter the consequences.

“Fine,” Issei snapped. “Stay here by yourself, for all I care.”

And then he walked away, leaving Asami to search for frogs in the shallows by herself. He just couldn’t handle sitting directly in the sun anymore. So he decided he would just watch her from a distance, hoping that she would stay where she was for a while. 

When he reached the shade of the tree, he sat beside Takahiro, who peeked an eye open.

“She giving you problems?” Takahiro asked, cracking a lazy grin. 

“Yeah,” Issei sighed. “She won’t come back over here.”

“Looks like you got a lot of sun,” Takahiro noted, slowly sitting up and stretching his arms over his head, with a yawn escaping him right afterwards. “You can go for a swim to cool off, if you want. I’ll go sit with Ah-chan.”

“That would be great. Thanks,” Issei said. Going for a swim was what he had been wanting to do for the better part of the past hour, but he hadn’t been able to do it when he was watching his sister. She kept moving further and further down the river bank. He could hardly look elsewhere for more than a few seconds without having to warn her not to lean too far over, or ask her to come closer, or follow her when she ignored him and went further away. 

Takahiro got up and walked towards Asami, glancing at Issei over his shoulder. “Let’s have lunch soon, like, maybe in twenty minutes. I’m getting hungry.”

“Sounds good,” Issei said with a nod. 

Then he got up and took off his shorts, wearing just his boxers as he approached the water. But before going all the way in, he looked back at Rei and Kazuki, just to make sure they were still keeping themselves out of trouble. As expected, they were fully occupied with their mud and sticks. They had been at it for almost two hours, and based on Rei’s enthusiastic body language, they were just getting to the good part of the game they were playing. 

“I’ll be swimming for a few minutes,” Issei said, wading into the shallow water near the river bank, which wasn’t far from the tree. “Don’t go anywhere.”

“Okay,” Rei said, not looking up from her stick people. 

The slow-moving water felt amazing on Issei’s skin, cooling him off after he had been in the sun near Asami for the past hour. He dunked his head below the surface once he got far enough out, staying under for as long as he could, just to make sure his entire body was getting a thorough soak. The cooler he got, the more his mood improved. 

When he bobbed his head above the surface, he glanced downstream, seeing Takahiro and Asami in the distance. It looked like Takahiro was scolding her for going too far out again. Then he looked back over at Rei and Kazuki, both of whom were still putting lots of effort into building their little mud city. 

Everyone seemed fine, so he went back under again, running his fingers through the loose black curls on his head. His hair was just about the longest it had ever been, going over his ears and reaching a little ways past his eyebrows. Getting a haircut was on his agenda before school started again. He would probably go do that the following weekend, since his father had remarked on the shagginess of his hair the previous day. Always being clean-cut and presentable was one of his father’s personal beliefs, and of course, that expectation was extended to his children. 

The second time Issei went up for air, he heard a shout from Takahiro, and he looked over just in time to see his best friend dive into the water to go after his little sister. Asami had slipped, disappearing under the surface. 

At an impressive speed, Issei swam to shore and clambered out of the water, rushing down the riverbank as fast as his feet would carry him. 

“Stay where you are!” he shouted at Rei and Kazuki, not taking the time to look back at them. 

In less than thirty seconds, he made it to where Takahiro and Asami had just been. They were both under the surface somewhere. 

“Takahiro!” Issei shouted, splashing into the water with reckless abandon. He almost slipped on a slime-covered rock. “Asami!”

He found himself reaching around under the surface where they had just been, desperately trying to find them. But they weren’t anywhere he could see or touch. So he went further downstream, staying close enough to shore that he could still stand. He was scanning the water, which was cloudy where he was stepping and clear enough to see through in other areas. 

His sister and best friend were nowhere to be found. The current was swift enough in the deeper part that the two of them likely got swept away, so Issei kept going downstream, wading through the water as quickly as possible. 

There was a bend coming up, and when Issei reached it, he saw Takahiro clutching a rock in the middle of the river, with Asami held against him. He was doing his best to keep her head out of the water. It was deeper and stronger there, flowing fast and wild from bank to bank, unlike the calmer areas that were upstream near the lush trees and peaceful shallows. 

Issei did the first thing he thought of, which was to find a branch so he could reach the other children from the safety of the riverbank. He splashed onto the muddy shore and started searching. The branch needed to be thick enough not to break, but not so thick that it would be too heavy for him to hold. And there was at least a car’s length between the rock Takahiro was holding onto and the riverbank, so the branch also had to be long enough to reach them. 

The only suitable option was still attached to a tree. 

After getting a running start, Issei jumped up to grab it and started bouncing it up and down, trying to break it off, though it was harder than he expected. It took him nearly a minute to snap the branch and pull it free. To him, it felt like much longer than that.

Meanwhile, over in the middle of the river, Takahiro was struggling with hanging on to the rock. It didn’t help that Asami was crying and flailing, trying to climb up his body to get out of the water.  

Once he had accomplished his task, Issei ran to the riverbank with the branch, which was sturdy, but light enough for him to carry without hurting himself. He held it out towards his best friend and sister, getting as close to them as possible. Stepping too far into this part of the river would be a dangerous mistake.

Takahiro had been watching Issei that entire time, and when he saw the branch coming his way, he spoke to Asami in a voice that carried across the surface of the water. It was just loud enough for Issei to overhear. “You need to grab that branch, and don’t let go until your brother tells you to.”

“I’m scared,” Asami cried, clinging to Takahiro with both arms. 

“You’ll be fine,” Takahiro promised. Then he looked over at Issei and shouted, making sure he could be heard. “Ah-chan’s almost ready!”

Issei nodded, waiting for his sister to grab the branch. 

But she wouldn’t let go of Takahiro, who looked like he was seconds away from losing his grip on the rock. The current was trying to pull him and Asami downstream.

“Just grab the branch, Takahiro,” Issei called out. “I’ll pull you both over at the same time!”

Takahiro had an arm around Asami, and his other was holding the rock. To grab the branch, he would have to use one of them, and it was obvious which one that would need to be. 

“Don’t let go of me,” he said to Asami, who nodded and hugged him even tighter than before. Then he used the arm that had been holding her to reach for the branch. 

Right when Takahiro caught hold of the branch, Issei started pulling on it, almost getting yanked off his feet once Takahiro let go of the rock. The branch was already heavy, and adding the weight of two people only made it that much heavier. It required all of his strength to keep his hold on it. 

There were several moments when Issei felt like he might get pulled into the water if he didn’t let go, and he almost lost his grip once or twice. But by sheer force of will, he held his ground and pulled the branch hand over hand, until Takahiro and Asami were within his reach. 

“I’ve got you” Issei said, dropping the branch and grabbing Takahiro’s arm. He helped him and Asami get out of the water, flopping down on the ground afterwards with a huff, his arms already aching from exertion. 

Takahiro was on his back beside Issei, breathing hard with his face hidden under his arm. Asami was between them, curled up against Takahiro’s side, her arms still around him.

When he noticed that his sister was trembling, Issei put a hand on her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

Asami managed to sit up and nod, reaching for Issei without saying anything. 

As far as Issei could tell, his sister was shaken up and scared, but otherwise uninjured. So he held her and looked at Takahiro, who wasn’t moving aside from the rise and fall of his chest. 

“What about you?” Issei asked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Takahiro replied, his voice soft and breathy. He peeked at Issei from under his elbow. “Just tired.”

For several seconds, Issei’s gaze shifted between his sister and his best friend. He was feeling a sense of disbelief that something so unexpected had just happened. Then he remembered his little brother and Rei, so he let go of Asami and got to his feet. “We’ve gotta get back to the others.”

“Roger that,” Takahiro said, putting two fingers to his forehead and saluting no one in particular. Then he let out an exhausted sigh and stood up, gingerly rubbing his arms and wrists as he started walking back upstream, towards where they had all come from. 

Asami wouldn’t get up, so Issei lifted her into his arms, which took a lot of effort. He was tired, and she was almost half his size. But he kept up with Takahiro as they walked back to the tree, where Rei was sobbing inconsolably and Kazuki was silently covering his ears, rocking back and forth with a faraway look in his eyes. 

“What’s wrong?” Takahiro asked, squatting next to his sister. 

“We . . . we . . . we didn’t know . . . where you were,” Rei replied through her sobs, pulling at her older brother’s arm from where she was sitting in the mud. “I thought . . . a river monster . . . ate you up.”

“As if I’d let some river monster eat me,” Takahiro said, gathering Rei into a hug. He knew how active her imagination was, and instead of telling her to stop being dramatic, like Etsu often did, he liked to play along with her. “Me and Issei are stronger than any old monster. Remember when we beat up the one that used to live under your bed?”

Rei nodded and stopped crying, resting her head on Takahiro’s shoulder as a shuddery breath escaped her. “You made it go away forever.”

“Exactly,” Takahiro said, his tone cheerful. “That’s what we just did to the river monster that tried to eat Ah-chan. All it took was a few hits, like bam-boom-bang,” he said, punching the air with one hand, “And we knocked it right out.”

“Wow,” Rei whispered in a voice full of awe. She pulled out of the hug so that she could stare at Takahiro’s face, glancing at Issei afterwards, her eyes wide with amazement. “You’re both so brave!”

“Of course we are,” Takahiro agreed, grinning confidently as he grabbed one of Rei’s pigtails, giving it a gentle wiggle. Then he stood up and squared his shoulders. “For big brothers, beating up monsters is all in a day’s work.” 

Meanwhile, Kazuki went over to Issei, reaching for his sister’s shirt and tugging on it. He didn’t say anything, but he was making a sound in the back of his throat that was similar to a whimper. 

Asami wiggled free from Issei’s arms and hugged her twin brother, finally starting to cry after all that uncharacteristic silence. She had overheard what Takahiro said to Rei, and unfortunately, it seemed like she was running with the idea. “A monster tried to eat me, Kazu! It almost killed me!”

Despite his usually calm demeanor, Kazuki didn’t like seeing his sister cry (or hearing that a monster wanted to eat her), so he started crying as well. 

Issei stared at Takahiro, his expression flat as he mouthed the words, look what you did.

With an awkward chuckle and an apologetic grin, Takahiro rubbed the side of his neck. Then he caught sight of the backpack that was near the trunk of the tree. “Hey, who wants lunch? We can start with dessert.”

“What’s for dessert?” Rei asked, wiping her remaining tears away as she watched Takahiro go over to the backpack.  

“Mini cream puffs,” Takahiro replied, pulling several wooden lunch boxes out, followed by a large plastic container that was filled with his favorite dessert. He opened it and popped one into his mouth. The excitement on his face faded as he chewed, and he ended up swallowing hard, looking down at the rest of the cream puffs with a frown. “They got all warm and melty.”

“I told you we shouldn’t bring those out here,” Issei said, ushering his still-tearful younger siblings towards the base of the tree. 

“Eh, they’re not too bad,” Takahiro decided, shrugging and eating another cream puff. Then he handed one to Rei, who stared at it suspiciously before trying it.

Once the twins were seated, Issei got his shirt and shorts back on. Then he grabbed some of the lunch boxes, setting one on each of their laps, and sitting next to them with his own. He and Takahiro had made rice balls and omelets all by themselves. 

Although, in actuality, it was mostly Issei who made the food for their lunch. Takahiro had been distracted with trying to talk Etsu into watching the younger kids for them. She said no in the end, since she already had plans that she wasn’t willing to cancel.

Takahiro and Rei joined the others near the base of the tree. Then the five of them ate their food there in the shade, finishing everything aside from the cream puffs, which were too mushy for everyone (except Takahiro’s) liking. After that, they packed everything up so they could head home. 

For once, Asami didn’t argue about leaving. She went along quietly, with her twin brother’s hand in one of hers and Issei’s in her other. It seemed like she was still mentally recovering from falling in the river and, as was now part of her memory, nearly being eaten by a monster. 

As they walked, Issei glanced at Takahiro, who was beside him. “Think my parents are gonna be mad about what happened?”

Takahiro twisted his mouth, shrugging after a few seconds. “It’s not like either of us did anything wrong. I mean, if you think about it, we handled it pretty good.”

“That’s true,” Issei remarked. Everyone was fine, and that seemed like it should be enough. 

But upon further consideration, Issei felt like his parents would probably be upset with him. They might even think he needed to be punished. His father had been really snappy lately, and his mother was more prone to fits of anxiety than ever before, so they might not take well to finding out that one of their children had gone through a near-death experience. The two of them were obviously stressed out in general. Issei was well aware of that, and he didn’t want to do anything to make it worse.

Not long after they left the river, Rei wanted to be carried, so Takahiro gave her a piggyback ride. Then they all headed towards their neighborhood. It was just fifteen minutes by foot. If the two older boys had been able to go alone, they would have taken their bikes, which would have cut ten minutes off that time. 

Once they made it to their neighborhood, they went to Issei’s house to get themselves cleaned up. Showers were taken, snacks were made, and a movie was put on for the little kids. That way, Issei and Takahiro could sit on the floor of the kitchen and eat the last two ice pops without having to share. 

“I was super freaked out when I saw you jump in the water today,” Issei admitted, glancing at his best friend. “I’m sorry you had to do that.”

Takahiro took a bite of his ice pop, crushing it with his teeth before speaking. “Wasn’t your fault.”

“I can’t stop thinking about it,” Issei said. The memory of Takahiro diving under the surface wouldn’t leave his mind, nor would the image of his sister’s terrified expression when he first pulled her out of the water. “Thanks for saving Ah-chan.”

“Eh,” Takahiro shrugged. “It was no big deal.”

That wasn’t true at all. If not for Takahiro’s quick response, Asami probably would have drowned, and Issei almost certainly would have blamed himself. He had processed the situation a little bit more on the walk home, leading to a heavy realization about how bad it could have been. 

“It was a really big deal. You two almost died,” Issei said, his chest feeling tight. “What if I wasn’t able to find you? Or what if the branch broke when I was pulling you to shore? What if I dropped it when you were halfway over, or fell in and got us all swept away?”

Takahiro glanced at Issei and flashed an ironic grin. “What if the sun falls out of the sky tomorrow?”

Issei met Takahiro’s gaze, his brow furrowing with confusion. “What?”

“Remember what our teacher said at the beginning of the year?” Takahiro took another bite of his ice pop, resting his elbows on his knees afterwards. He and Issei were sitting with their backs against the cabinets that were under the kitchen sink. “‘We could spend all day long worrying about every possible thing, like the sun falling out of the sky, if we let ourselves. But if it’s not something we can control, we shouldn’t stress about it.’”

“I don’t remember hearing that,” Issei said, narrowing his eyes. “Are you sure that’s what our teacher said?”

“More or less. But anyway, all’s well that ends well,” Takahiro said, finishing his ice pop. Then he eyed the one Issei was holding, because it was melting away, mostly untouched. “You gonna eat that?”

Issei handed over his ice pop. “You can have it.”

“Thanks,” Takahiro said, gratefully accepting it and taking a bite. 

Just the sight of that made Issei’s teeth hurt. Unlike his best friend, he couldn’t chew on cold foods.

The second ice pop was gone within thirty seconds, so Takahiro went and threw the sticks away, licking his lips to get them clean. Then he turned on the sink, right next to where Issei was sitting on the little rug that was always in front of it. He soaped his hands up and started washing them. “You know, it was pretty cool how you ripped a branch out of that tree.”

“I didn’t know what else to do,” Issei mumbled bashfully, staring down at his own feet. 

“It was just like in that show we watched last night,” Takahiro said, shutting the sink off and drying his hands on a towel. “With the friends that always save each other from the bad guys.”

“Except we don’t have super powers,” Issei pointed out. “And we’ve never had to fight bad guys.”

“Well, we did fight off a river monster . . . metaphorically speaking.” Takahiro knelt down in front of Issei, holding one hand towards him. “The important thing is that you had my back today. And no matter what happens, I’ve got yours too. That’s what friends are for.”

Issei nodded in agreement. The two of them clasped their hands together, doing the elaborate secret handshake they had come up with a few months earlier, after having seen a similar one between characters in a show. Then they went and joined their siblings in the living room, spending the rest of that muggy summer afternoon watching movies.

Much to Issei’s relief, when he told his parents what happened at the creek, his father didn’t get mad at him. Neither did his mother. Their reactions were a mix between relief over how things turned out, and appreciation for how responsible the older two kids had acted. 

However, Issei did actually downplay the situation quite a bit when telling the story. That had been Takahiro’s idea. Rei had been sworn to secrecy in order to hide the supposed existence of river monsters from the general public, Asami had conveniently expressed that she didn’t want to talk about the events of that day ever again (a sentiment that they highly encouraged), and Kazuki was very unlikely to say anything, though they still asked him to keep it hush-hush. 

So he only gave his parents vague details, both to avoid getting in trouble for not staying close to his sister when she was in the water, and to prevent his mother from going through a significant amount of stress. He made it seem like Asami had only slipped under the surface for a few seconds. His parents believed him, and with that, the incident was put behind them.

He felt he had dodged a bullet in several different ways that day.

Little did he know, there were still a lot of emotions he needed to process about his experience at the river. 

That night when he went to sleep, he dreamed about people he knew falling into a river filled with monsters. First his sister, then his brother, then his best friend, then his parents, and then himself. This particular dream would haunt him for a very long time.

Chapter Text

Age 12

The start of middle school brought some big changes.

First and most obvious was that Issei and Takahiro would be going to a new school, which was larger than their old one, and farther away from their neighborhood. It was going to take them about twenty-five minutes to get there each day. And now that they were twelve, each of them had been given a flip phone. That was particularly exciting.

But the most exciting thing about starting middle school was that they were going to join the volleyball club. They had learned the basics of the sport during spring break, after having come across some older kids practicing at a park that wasn’t far from their neighborhood. Neither of them had taken notice of volleyball before, but something about it drew them both in. They were hooked from the moment they saw the ball get spiked over the net. 

After that, they spent the last weekend of their spring break at the park, where they watched the older kids and got a feel for how volleyball worked. They even joined in a few times. Their skill level was a solid zero, though that didn’t discourage them from participating.

Playing at the park had been fun, and they were looking forward to the opportunity of learning from a coach and being part of an actual team. 

Like they had done on the first day of school for the past six years, they walked together on that cool April morning, each of them dressed in their brand new uniform. That was another change brought on by starting middle school. They were required to wear uniforms for the first time. Their outfits were all black, with a long-sleeve top that had a stand up collar, squared shoulders, and five golden buttons along the front. There were also two buttons on each sleeve. The pants were stiff and straight—not too tight, not too loose. 

Much to their dismay, their uniforms were less comfortable than what they wore to elementary school. They had been allowed to wear their own clothes back then, as long as they were clean, free from holes and tears, and not gaudy or obnoxious. 

The only upside to their school uniform was that they could still wear sneakers, which were far more versatile than the loafers that Etsu’s high school required.

They were no longer wearing the black square backpacks that they had used throughout elementary school. Those were pretty worn out after six years, so they had gotten book bags that went over one shoulder instead. They also had a draw-string bag for their gym clothes. Because of that, they had a lot to carry as they made their way across town.

Once they made it to school, they went to find their homeroom. As luck would have it, they were in the same one, just like they had been for most of elementary school. There were only two of those six years where they hadn’t been in the same class, and they both hoped that would never happen again. Class wasn’t as fun when they couldn’t pass notes back and forth. 

As always, Takahiro picked a window seat after walking into his and Issei’s homeroom. He liked having a view.

Issei sat in the seat right ahead of Takahiro, since the one beside him was already taken by a boy with messy brown hair.

“Hey,” said the brown-haired boy, turning towards Takahiro with a friendly smile. “I’m Yuda Kaneo.”

Takahiro looked at Yuda and gave him a quick once over. Then he grinned, as if in that brief moment of examination, his approval had been won.

“I’m Hanamaki Takahiro,” he replied. After that, he nodded at Issei, introducing him to their new acquaintance. “And this is Matsukawa Issei.”

“Nice to meet you,” Issei added, turning in his seat so that he could see Yuda and Takahiro more easily. 

Takahiro was, in many ways, picky about who he hung out with. He had been like that since they first started school. So it was particularly interesting to Issei that Takahiro was being nice to their classmate.  

“What elementary school did you guys go to?” Yuda asked, his entire demeanor filled with a cheerfulness that was a bit excessive for this early in the day. He was obviously a morning person.

“We both went to Aramachi,” Issei replied calmly. He wasn’t much of a morning person himself, but he didn’t mind people who were. “What about you?”

“Katahiracho.” Yuda leaned an elbow on his desk, letting out a forlorn sigh. But his smile remained. “None of my friends came to this school.”

“That sucks,” Takahiro remarked, rocking back in his chair. He held onto his desk with one hand to keep himself steady, balancing the chair on its back legs. “Are you gonna join a club?”

“Yeah, I think I’m gonna join the soccer club,” Yuda replied. “I played that for fun in elementary school, and I wasn’t too bad at it. Figured it would be a good way to make new friends.”

“Soccer, huh?” Takahiro let his chair drop back down and drummed his fingers against his thighs, looking thoughtful. “Have you ever played volleyball?”

“No.” Yuda tilted his head curiously. “Have you?”

“A little bit,” Takahiro replied. A little bit here meaning, three or four times at the park over the past week. “Me and Issei are gonna join the volleyball club.”

Yuda hummed. “That’s cool. Are you guys any good?”

“Not yet.” Takahiro cracked a confident grin. “But we will be.”

“You should join the volleyball club with us,” Issei suggested. He had taken an instant liking to Yuda, deciding right away that he was someone worth getting to know better. And he had a feeling that Takahiro felt the same way. 

“I think I’m gonna give soccer a try first,” Yuda said, though he seemed wistful and unsure. “I already know how to play it, y’know? And I’ve already got the gear.”

“Volleyball isn’t too hard to learn. Once you know the rules, you’d catch on really quick.” Takahiro sounded like he was making a sales pitch. “And I don’t think there’s much gear you’ve gotta buy for it.”

Yuda chuckled. “You make a convincing argument.”

All of a sudden, Takahiro started rubbing his eye, like it was bothering him. Then he faced forward in his seat, using his fingers to open his left eye as wide as he could. It was slightly red and teary. “Is there something in my eye?”

Issei leaned in close and carefully examined his best friend. “Yeah, there’s an eyelash right in the middle.”

Takahiro started blinking rapidly, looking up, down, and all around as he did so. Finally, he rubbed the corner of his eye, where the eyelash had settled. He sighed with relief once he got it out. 

The teacher called the class to attention at that point, so everyone in the classroom turned their focus towards her. Then the first day of middle school officially started. It was rather uneventful, which was just how Issei liked his first day at a new school to be. 

When it was time for lunch, the three boys ate together and talked more, getting to know each other better. Yuda seemed like a genuinely kind and interesting person. 

Back in elementary school, Issei and Takahiro hadn’t made that many friends. They stuck together and ignored everyone else, maintaining only distant acquaintances with their classmates. This was mostly because neither of them felt the need for extra companionship, though there was also the small matter of Takahiro’s tendency towards jealousy whenever Issei seemed to like anyone else better than him—not that he ever said it out loud, and not that it was ever true. 

But it didn’t need to be said for Issei to pick up on it. Since he preferred not to upset his best friend and didn’t have a desire for more friends, he was content with Takahiro as his main source of friendship. 

However, they had both gotten a good feeling about Yuda as a person, so without even having to discuss it, they decided to bring him into their friend group as a full-fledged member. And by the end of lunch, they finally convinced Yuda to join the volleyball club with them. Then they got back to their schoolwork. Each of their classes were a little longer than the ones in elementary school, which meant they weren’t finished for the day until right around four in the afternoon. 

After they helped clean their classroom, Issei, Takahiro, and Yuda went to the gym together to turn in their application forms, and that’s when they first saw the rest of the team. There were a lot of boys who were taller than Issei, since he hadn’t hit a growth spurt in a while. It was the same for Yuda, whose height was perfectly average, which meant he was shorter than most of the other athletes. But that wasn’t true in Takahiro’s case. He had been taller and lankier than Issei ever since his last growth spurt, and he towered over the other twelve-year-olds that were gathered in the gym. Only the second-year and third-year students on the team were taller than him. 

Most of their new teammates seemed to know exactly what they were doing, and many of them were already in position to do some warm-up stretches. But there were others who, like Issei and his two friends, were a little lost and hesitant. It was a new setting, with a new set of expectations, and none of the first-years knew what to do.

Thankfully, the coach took charge and got everyone organized, sending the established members of the team to sit in front of the net, and having the new members stand across from them to introduce themselves and state their position.

Four other first-year boys addressed the team, and then it was Issei’s turn.

“Matsukawa Issei, from Aramachi elementary,” he said. Even though he had never officially played a position, he already knew which one he wanted. “Middle blocker.”

Takahiro was beside Issei, so he went next. “Hanamaki Takahiro, from Aramachi elementary school. Wing spiker.”

Yuda cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “Yuda Kaneo, from Katahiracho,” he said, glancing at Takahiro and Issei before announcing his position. They had gone over those at lunch, and he had made a decision based on the descriptions they gave him. “Wing spiker.” 

Two other boys did their introduction, and then practice began. 

“Huddle up,” said the coach, who was an older man with graying hair, bright eyes, and a booming voice. “We’ll start today’s practice with some warm-ups led by your captain, followed by a few laps around the gym. Then we’ll go through serving, setting, spiking, and receiving drills to see what our newcomers can do.”

After hearing that, Issei and Takahiro grinned at each other, and Yuda bounced on his heels beside them. All three of them were excited. Then they copied the captain of the team as he went through some warm-up exercises, all of which were familiar to them because of gym class. 

When they started running with their teammates, their enthusiasm made the exercise feel like a fun activity rather than a chore, for the most part. 

Issei and Takahiro were driven by the anticipation of getting to be part of a real volleyball club, which would give them real teammates, a real coach, a real gym to play in, and everything else they could have wanted. It was going to be way better than casually playing at the park.

“You’re taller than the other kids from our class,” Issei remarked, jogging slowly enough to hold a conversation. He was between Yuda and Takahiro. “Maybe you should go for middle blocker.”

“Nah.” Takahiro matched Issei’s pace, letting other boys pass him in favor of staying next to his best friend. “I like spiking the ball.”

“Fair enough,” Issei replied. Personally, he liked the way it looked and felt to block a spike, which is what drew him towards being a middle blocker.

“Spiking the ball sounds really cool,” Yuda said, adjusting the band of his gym shorts as he ran. The tie had come undone, and they were a little loose on him without that being properly fastened. “I can’t wait to try it.”

The three boys had to pick up the pace after that, because they noticed the coach staring at them with a raised eyebrow. None of them wanted to be scolded on their very first day. So they shot ahead to the front of the group, remaining there until it was time to stop. There were only minimal complaints from Takahiro about how running was the worst type of exercise. 

When it was time for drills, it was obvious that there was a mixed range of talent among the new members of the team. Some of the first-years had likely played on a regular basis, as made evident by the way they carried themselves and handled the ball. 

Yuda had never touched a volleyball before in his entire life, so it was perfectly reasonable that he had no skill at all, despite the vigorous enthusiasm that he brought to the court. It seemed that being enthusiastic was a natural personality trait for him. 

As for Issei and Takahiro, they weren’t the absolute worst among their peers. But they also weren’t good. They had almost no experience, and it was going to take some serious effort before they could play well. 

Serving was a lot harder than it looked. Issei could only get the ball over the net about half of the time, and unfortunately, it never went where he wanted it to go. It either went out, or it was received as if it had been tossed gently. He wasn’t able to put much strength behind it. 

Takahiro seemed to get lucky with his serves, making more of them than Issei did, though Yuda ended up being the best server out of the three of them. 

During the setting drills, Issei sent the ball too high, too low, or too far away from the net. He had no control over where the ball was going. It was the same for Yuda and Takahiro during that part of practice.

When it was time to block, Issei came to the realization that he wasn’t nearly as good at it as he was hoping to be, especially considering how much he had hyped himself up over becoming a middle blocker. He had gotten it in his mind that he had natural talent for it. But it was tricky to find the right timing for when to jump, difficult to know where his hands should be, and challenging to read the players on the other side of the court.  

Although, he was definitely better at blocking than Takahiro and Yuda, for whatever that was worth. Being the best of three complete novice players didn’t feel like a big deal to him.

And then there was receiving, which was probably the thing Issei was the worst at. He almost took a ball to the face several times, and he only managed to really bump it properly once or twice. That was just about how it had been when he played at the park over spring break.  

Yuda also struggled when it came to receiving, but he applied his endless enthusiasm to the task, not giving up until he had managed to get at least one decent dig. That took a long time.

Takahiro, on the contrary, had much better results than the other two boys. His eyes were filled with determination, and whenever he managed to receive the ball, he let out a loud, “Ha!” He got several decent bumps, and the coach even came over to give him pointers on getting the ball to go where he wanted. 

That turned into a brief discussion about the different ways to receive. Takahiro listened intently, and Issei was close enough to overhear. The two of them tried some overhand passes together after that. 

Spiking came a little more naturally for Issei, just like it did for Takahiro, who always looked like he was having the most fun when he got the opportunity to smack the ball over the net. Yuda acted just as thrilled whenever he managed to land a spike. But all three of them had a lot of work to do if they wanted to get good enough to be a starting player, and of all the first-years, none of them stood out as talented. There were enough skilled upperclassmen that they almost certainly wouldn’t get a starting position until at least their second year of middle school.

Throughout practice, the biggest question on Issei’s mind was whether or not Takahiro would get tired of volleyball now that he knew how much effort had to go into it. They had already tried basketball, soccer, and baseball back in elementary school, but they didn’t make it past two or three practices for any of them. Takahiro always ended up not liking something about it. 

All of those sports were “not really worth the effort,” as Takahiro had said. 

Memories of the times he and his best friend had quit were running through Issei’s head as he went to get a drink of water, grabbing one of the many orange bottles that were sitting on the bench. An older student came over to talk to him while he was there. 

The taller boy had an athletic build, shaggy brown hair, brown eyes, and a warm smile. He was the kind of person who made a good first impression. “Hey. I’m Sakamoto Koji, from class 2-2.”

“Matsukawa Issei, class 1-4,” Issei said, bowing to be polite, since the other boy was a year older than him.

“It seems like you haven’t played much before.” Sakamoto was standing beside Issei, grabbing a water bottle of his own. “Are you new to volleyball?” 

“Yeah, I’ve only played it at the park a few times,” Issei replied with a shy grin. He wondered if it had been super obvious that he was just starting out. 

“That’s alright. You’re not bad,” Sakamoto said, taking a long drink afterwards. Then he wiped his mouth on the back of his wrist and dabbed his neck with a towel. He was staring at Issei like he was sizing him up, but not in a mean way. “You just need more practice, and then you’ll catch up in no time.”

Takahiro walked over to the bench at that point, nudging Issei’s back with his fist when he got close enough. “My arms are killing me.”

“Giving up already?” Issei teased, watching Takahiro grab a water bottle.

“Of course not.” Takahiro rolled his shoulders before uncapping his drink. “I’m just airing my complaints.” 

“Is this a friend of yours?” Sakamoto asked, looking from Takahiro to Issei, who turned towards him again. 

“Yeah, this is my friend Hanamaki Takahiro,” Issei replied. “He’s in the same class as me.”

Takahiro nodded at Sakamoto in greeting. Just as he had with Yuda that morning, he gave Sakamoto a once over, not seeming all that impressed with him. His expression was indifferent at best. Then he set his water bottle down with a sigh, stretching his arms over his head. “How much longer does practice last?”

That question seemed to amuse Sakamoto, because he smirked as he replied. “At least another hour. Maybe two, if Coach thinks it’s necessary. We’re usually done by six or seven. After that, we clean up the gym.”

“You’ve got this.” Issei patted Takahiro’s shoulder. He didn’t want him to get bored of practice, and since their coach had told them all to choose a skill to work on, he offered up something that would interest him. “Let’s practice spiking again.”

“Want me to toss for you guys?” Sakamoto offered, putting his water bottle down on the bench. “I’m a setter.”

“Sure, that would be cool,” Issei replied. He wiped his face with a towel, then left it on the bench with his water bottle. 

Issei and Takahiro followed Sakamoto over to one of the two nets that were set up in the large gym. The other one was being used for serving and receiving practice, which is what Yuda and nearly a dozen other boys were doing. But with just a word from Sakamoto, they had a group of three willing to block for them. It seemed like Sakamoto was popular among their peers. And as it turned out, he was a pretty good setter.

After practicing their spikes and blocks for a while, they decided to do an impromptu game. Yuda came over to join them at that point, as did some of their upperclassmen, most of whom were talented at the positions they played. 

Issei thought it was a good challenge to go up against people who were more skilled than he was, and he quickly fell into a steady rhythm with Takahiro, Sakamoto, Yuda, and the other boys that were playing on their side. Their practice game lasted a long time. They kept playing set after set, not even caring about who was winning or losing. They were having way too much fun to care.

It was apparent to Issei that he would be able to learn faster if he got plenty of opportunities to participate in practice games. At least, that was true in terms of getting a feel for how the opposite team moved around the court, which gave him ideas about what he needed to adjust as a blocker. He would still have to dedicate himself to doing the daily drills, especially if he wanted to get better at serves and receiving.

That first practice game on a real court was what really made Issei fall in love with volleyball. He liked the squeak of everyone’s shoes, the echo of their voices as they called out to each other, the reliance and connection between himself and his teammates, and the rhythm of the ball being served, received, set, and spiked. There were even a couple of times that he managed to get a half decent block, and by watching the more experienced players, he was already picking up new techniques that he could use when blocking in the future. 

By the end of that long afternoon of practice, Issei was sore and tired, but there was still cleaning to be done. So he and Takahiro helped their teammates get everything put away. Then they went to the club room to get changed, said their goodbyes, and headed home. 

“Man, I can’t wait to take a bath,” Takahiro said, walking while he stretched his arms in front of himself, putting one over the other. “My muscles are screaming at me.”

“Same here.” Issei rubbed his wrist as he and Takahiro went down the sidewalk, guided only by the street lights overhead. “We’re probably gonna feel worse in the morning.”

Takahiro groaned and swung his arms around. “Remind me why we chose volleyball over an easier club, like chess, or debate. Something that doesn’t involve exercise.”

“Hold your hand up,” Issei said, his expression calm as he turned towards his best friend. 

Without questioning it, Takahiro stopped walking and held up his hand, spreading his fingers wide. 

“In your case, you said you like this feeling.” Issei high-fived Takahiro’s hand hard enough for them both to flinch, shaking out their hands afterwards to get rid of the sting. “You said, and I quote, ‘it burns so good when I spike the ball.’”

Takahiro chuckled. “Yeah, it does. Smack me again,” he said, wearing a goofy smirk as he put his hand back up. “The harder the better.”

Issei snorted and resumed walking. “Once is enough.”

“Fine, I’ll do it myself,” Takahiro said, hi-fiving his own hand. Then he caught up with Issei, matching his pace. “Eh, it’s not as good that way.”

“What did you think about practice?” Issei asked, putting his hands in his pockets. His fingers and wrists were achy from so much contact with the ball. He was repeatedly clenching his fists for a few seconds, then relaxing them in an attempt to soothe the pain. 

“It was fun,” Takahiro replied, yawning afterwards. “Kinda hard though.”

Issei hummed. “Think you’ll wanna do it every single day after school?” 

“I’m not gonna quit, if that’s what you mean,” Takahiro said. “I wanna get really good.”

“You said the same thing about soccer,” Issei recalled, sounding playful.

Takahiro clicked his tongue and waved a hand dismissively. “Soccer has too much running.”

“We have to run during practice,” Issei pointed out, glancing at Takahiro under the glow of a street light. “And we’ve gotta move really fast during the game sometimes.”

“Yeah, but it’s an indoor game, so it’s not like we’re getting baked by the sun when we play.” Takahiro paused, leaning down to tie his shoe. “I’m serious this time. I think it’s really fun to be part of the volleyball club, and it’ll be cool to get better at it.”

“I feel the same way,” Issei said. He pulled his hands out of his pockets, gently twisting his wrists and stretching his fingers while he waited for Takahiro to finish tying his shoe. 

“My grandma said she’s excited to come watch us play,” Takahiro remarked. Once his shoe was tied, he stood up and looked at Issei with a grin. “I guess my grandpa was on a team for a long time, like back when he was in high school or college, or whatever. She’s been talking about how proud he would be that I’m taking after him and all that.”

“I wonder if any of my grandparents ever played volleyball,” Issei said. The hoot of an owl made him glance around to search for the source of the sound. That’s when he noticed how bright the moon was that night. He smiled softly as he stared at it, taking a deep breath through his nose. 

School wasn’t too hard, volleyball was going to be interesting, and his best friend didn’t plan on quitting. Life was good.

“What was it for you?” Takahiro asked, looking up at the moon from right next to Issei. 

“Huh?”

“That made you choose the volleyball club,” Takahiro clarified.

“Oh.” Issei started walking again, following the curve of the sidewalk. “After we played at the park with those guys, you said you wanted to be on a team together.”

Takahiro glanced at Issei as they walked side by side. “That’s your only reason?”

“Yep,” Issei replied with a shrug. “That’s the only reason I’ve tried any of the sports we’ve done.”

There was silence for a few seconds, and then Takahiro threw his arm over Issei’s shoulders, giving him a squeeze before letting go. “Aw, you’re a really good friend.”

Issei smiled. “So are you.”

“Hey, are you hungry?” Takahiro asked. They were coming up to a convenience store, and that’s where his attention was focused. He could practically sense the presence of food from a mile away.

“Yeah,” Issei replied, appreciating the smell of fried food that was suddenly wafting through the air. It made his stomach growl. “I’m starving.”

“Let’s get some food,” Takahiro suggested. “I’ve got enough money for about six or seven pork buns, so I’ll buy some for both of us.”

“Thanks,” Issei said. “I’ll pay next time.”

He and Takahiro walked into the convenience store and bought half a dozen pork buns, eating them in the parking lot afterwards. Then they resumed walking towards their neighborhood. They were both tired, so they fell into a comfortable silence.

Once they got to their neighborhood, they split up and went towards their own houses, but not before taking a few seconds to do their secret handshake. It had become a habit to do it whenever they parted ways, though it was much less complicated than it had been when they first started doing it. All it consisted of now was shaking their hands normally, sliding their palms against each other after, and ending it with a fist bump. They had cut out about five other steps. 

Secret handshake was an excessive title. 

By the time Issei got home, it was late enough that his mother was getting the twins into bed, and dinner was already long over. There was a plate for him in the fridge, but he decided to get himself cleaned up first. So he took a quick shower, and then he filled the bath, sinking down into it until the water reached his chin. It felt good to soak his muscles after all the exercise he’d done that afternoon, and he stayed in there for nearly an hour.

While he was in the bath, he thought back on practice, deciding what he should focus on the next day. For an aspiring middle blocker, he knew his blocks weren’t impressive. He wanted to get much better at them. That way, he would get to play in an actual game with Takahiro someday, where every point would count, and where each move would matter. The thought of that filled him with a deep sense of excitement and anticipation. 

When he finally got out of the bath, he crossed the hallway to his bedroom and got dressed in his favorite pajamas, which were almost too small for him. He would need new ones next time he hit a growth spurt. Then he walked up the hallway to get some leftovers from the kitchen. The pork buns he had eaten earlier weren’t nearly enough. He was still hungry, and he was looking forward to eating a proper meal. His mother’s cooking always hit the spot. 

But he stopped in the part of the hallway that came right before the dining room, because he heard the sounds of hushed voices coming from around the corner. His parents were arguing at the table.

“The only reason Kazu doesn’t talk to you is because you’re so harsh towards him,” Yuko said in a soft voice, nervously twisting a napkin between her fingers. “That’s what the therapist said, remember? That stress makes it difficult for him to talk. Maybe if you were kinder to him, he’d feel like opening up to you.”

“I’m always the bad guy, aren’t I? And then there’s you, coddling him, letting him manipulate you, bending over backwards so he’s never uncomfortable.” Mr. Matsukawa crossed his arms, glaring at Yuko from across the table. “He doesn’t talk because he’s trying to get his way, and you give it to him more often than not. He’s spoiled. And not just him, either. You’re doing the same thing with Asami, letting her do and say whatever she wants without any consequences.”

“She’s just acting out because she’s having a hard time,” Yuko argued, though she didn’t raise her voice. She was still nervously twisting the napkin in her hands, staring down at it, like she was struggling to look at her husband. “The other kids at school have been mean to her.”

“I don’t blame them,” Mr. Matsukawa said, his tone and expression flat. “She probably bit most of them.”

“That hasn’t happened in years,” Yuko pointed out as she set her napkin down on the table, putting her hands in her lap and twisting her wedding ring around her finger instead. “She’s been better about managing her anger around other kids. Besides, she was just trying to protect Kazu from bullies.” 

“Even if that’s true, the way she acts makes our family look bad,” Mr. Matsukawa said, his tone full of disapproval. Then he pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes, letting out an annoyed sigh. “She needs to learn what’s expected of her in society. If she can’t do that, she’s asking to be a target for bullies, just like Kazuki’s been doing by refusing to talk at school. And maybe that’s what they need.”

“What a horrible thing to say!” 

Mr. Matsukawa opened his eyes wide in surprise, apparently not having expected his wife to scold him.

Yuko was finally meeting Mr. Matsukawa’s gaze. Her body had grown rigid, and her voice was angry, but she wasn’t quite yelling. “No one deserves to be bullied!”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Mr. Matsukawa insisted, crossing his arms again. “Stop twisting my words around.”

“Please don’t do that, Katashi. I hate it when you do that,” Yuko said, still meeting her husband’s gaze. She was blinking back tears. “Don’t make it seem like I didn’t hear exactly what you just said.”

“It doesn’t matter what I said,” Mr. Matsukawa snapped, furrowing his thick eyebrows as he glanced away. “You misunderstood me.” 

“Well, you’re not understanding me either,” Yuko replied bitterly. Then she took a deep breath and spoke in a level voice, sounding much more calm and gentle, though she seemed hesitant. “You know, Issei thought the whole world revolved around you when he was little. And back then, you were so good with him. You played with him, you interacted with him, you made him feel special. And he did everything he could to make you happy. He still really looks up to you. But it feels like . . . you never connected with Ah-chan and Kazu like you did with him. I’m just worried you’re not giving them enough attention.”

“Yeah, well, why do you think that is?” Mr. Matsukawa suddenly demanded, his eyes flashing defensively. He was looking anywhere but at his wife now. “I work all damn day to earn a living for us.”

Yuko blinked in disbelief, and her mouth hung open for a few seconds. “So do I. But when I get home, I ask the kids how school was, I listen to them, I try to show them that I’m there for them. When’s the last time you did that?”

“I do that all the time,” Mr. Matsukawa claimed. He was still acting defensive as he pointed at his wife from across the table. “And what about you? Are you forgetting those years where all you did was work and sleep on the couch? You were hardly interacting with me at all, and you weren’t keeping up with anything around the house.” He crossed his arms once again, scowling at the glass of water that was on the table in front of him. “We spent tons of money on takeout because of you.”

“Are you serious?” Yuko was on the verge of tears, and her fists were balled up on her lap. After all of her previous restraint, she was yelling now, though it wasn’t that loud. She was being mindful of not waking the twins. “I was working as hard as I could, I was up with the kids five times a night, I was helping Issei with homework, I was cleaning, I was doing laundry, I was going-going-going nonstop! There had to be a compromise somewhere, and that’s what needed to be done! Having food delivered saved my sanity!”

“But it also burned through our savings! Just like having the twins burned through our savings, and just like your impulsive spending still burns through whatever we try to save! You don’t need all those damn books you don’t even read,” Mr. Matsukawa argued. His body was still, his expression was twisted with anger, and his muscles were tense. He started speaking in a low voice after that, his rage quietly simmering in each word. “And you’re not the only one who works hard around here. I’ve been busting my ass for the past five years to get this promotion, and now that I’ve finally got it, you’re accusing me of slacking off? Is this how you show your appreciation?”

“It feels like you’re blaming me for everything,” Yuko cried, breaking down in tears. She covered her face with her hands, leaning her elbows on the table as sobs shook her shoulders.

“You know what? I’m done talking about this,” Mr. Matsukawa said, noisily sliding his seat back and getting up from the table with a huff. His heavy footsteps marked his approach towards the hallway. 

Issei, who had been listening to his parents argue the whole time, immediately realized that he was about to be discovered. Without wasting even a second, he silently dashed down the hallway, going as fast as he could. He hardly dared to breathe. Then he slipped into his room, softly closing the door behind himself. 

His heart was hammering in his chest, his stomach was churning, and he felt like he needed to hide. So he climbed into his bed and pulled the covers over his head. The conversation between his parents was whirling around in his mind, leaving him anxious and tense. He had never heard them speak to each other like that before. 

However, he didn’t know they actually fought like that behind closed doors on a semi-regular basis. What he did know was that his mother was crying, and that it seemed like it was his father’s fault. He didn’t like that at all. It left him feeling confused, worried, and kind of angry.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on Issei’s bedroom door, followed by the sound of it opening. 

“Are you asleep?” Mr. Matsukawa asked, stepping into the room. 

“Almost,” Issei replied as he uncovered his head, surprising himself with his ability to speak calmly. But he couldn’t look right at his father. Thankfully, his bedroom light was off, so he didn’t have to make eye contact.

“I’m glad you’re still up.” Mr. Matsukawa’s voice was back to the lighthearted and fatherly tone he usually used with Issei, which was a stark contrast to the tone he had just been using to argue with his wife. It was also different from how he spoke to his other two children most of the time. “I wanted to ask how your first day of school went.”

“It was good,” Issei said, speaking through a tight throat. He felt awkward about having overheard his parents’ heated conversation, and he wasn’t sure how to feel about his father at that moment. He was still confused. Because of that, being around his father was making him extremely uncomfortable—in a way he hadn’t ever felt towards him before now. 

“And how was volleyball?” Mr. Matsukawa sounded like he was grinning, though it was too dark to see his face. “Give me some of the highlights.”

“We mostly just did a lot of drills.” Issei nervously scrunched his toes. “Oh, and I got to play a practice game with my teammates.”

“That’s great.” Mr. Matsukawa chuckled softly. “You know, I have some fond memories from my days playing basketball. We’ll have to compare our experiences once you’re a little more seasoned.”

“I’d like that,” Issei mumbled, squeezing the top edge of his blanket, which was covering his body up to his neck.

“Let me know when you’ll be in a real game,” Mr. Matsukawa requested. “I’ll come watch you play.”

“I don’t think I’ll get to be in a real game for a long time,” Issei said. “I’m not any good yet.”

“As long as you put in the work, I’m sure you’ll earn a starting spot.” Mr. Matsukawa seemed confident about that. He started to turn around, like he was going to leave the room. But then he turned to look towards Issei again. “Oh, right. How did Hanamaki-kun do at practice? You’re on the team together, aren’t you?”

“He did great,” Issei replied. “We both had fun.”

“That’s good to hear,” Mr. Matsukawa said. Then he turned to leave the room for real. “Well, get some rest. You’ll need your strength for practice tomorrow.”

Issei swallowed hard. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Mr. Matsukawa replied, closing the door.

There was a painful knot in Issei’s stomach, both from hunger and from his lingering emotional discomfort. Going into the kitchen to eat the plate of food his mother had saved for him didn’t feel like an option. And even though he was exhausted, he wasn’t able to fall asleep. He kept replaying his parents’ argument in his head over and over again. 

For hours, Issei stared at the ceiling of his bedroom, unable to shut his mind off. His thoughts were all tangled up. He kept asking himself if there was anything else he should have done, like going to comfort his mother when she started crying. And he was wondering if he should have been doing more to help out around the house back when his mother was so tired after the twins were born. He also wondered if there was more he could do now, since it seemed like his mother could use some extra support. 

Of course, he had actually been quite helpful from a young age, and he was still that way. More so than most children, and almost more so than he really should have been. But none of the adults in his life had ever directly told him that he didn’t have to take on whatever responsibilities he felt he could handle. To his father, it was convenient to have a hard-working son that put his own needs last, and his mother had always found his helpful attitude to be rather endearing. 

He felt like he was supposed to be the child his parents didn’t have to worry about. The one that did as he was told, made things easier for them, and never let them down. 

However, there were actually a few different times when Etsu had told Issei not to be in such a hurry to act like an adult, which was a little ironic coming from her. Acting like a stuck-up adult was one of her favorite pastimes as of late. But she usually followed that advice up with telling Takahiro that he could stand to take on some of Issei’s responsible attitude, saying that if they split what Issei already had, they would each have a decent amount. 

And to Issei, those were just the haughty words of his best friend’s older sister. Neither him nor Takahiro ever took Etsu seriously when she tried to act all wise and mature.

Around two in the morning, the silence Issei had been listening to was broken by the sound of someone crying. It seemed like it was coming from the bathroom, which was right across the hallway from Issei’s bedroom. He wasn’t sure if he actually heard it at first. Had he not already been awake, he probably wouldn’t have noticed it at all. He was a deep sleeper most of the time. 

Once he was sure about the sound being real, he couldn’t just ignore it. So he got out of bed to investigate. He opened his bedroom door and stepped out into the hallway, which was dark, though there was light coming from the crack under the bathroom door. The crying was easier to hear as he got closer. 

When he was right in front of the bathroom door, he knocked on it softly. Whoever was crying didn’t seem to hear him. 

So he knocked again, louder this time. 

There was still no answer. 

After a moment of hesitance, he opened the door just a little bit, enough to see the bathroom mirror through the crack. 

Asami was in the bathroom, and by the looks of it, she wasn’t fully awake. Her eyes were closed as she cried, and she was standing in front of the sink like she didn’t know what to do. 

“What’s wrong?” Issei asked, opening the door wider so he could stick his head in the room.

Hearing a sudden voice startled Asami quite a bit. That was enough to make her open her eyes, and she stopped crying, looking at Issei without saying anything. But after a moment, she finally replied to his question. “I had an accident.”

Issei glanced down, noticing that his sister’s pajamas were wet, mostly around her stomach and legs. So he stepped into the room and went over to the shower. He turned it on and held his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm. “You know how to wash yourself off, right?”

Asami nodded, sniffling as she wiped her nose on the sleeve of her pajamas.

“I’m gonna go change your sheets,” Issei decided, moving the shower curtain around so that his sister could get in more easily. “Leave your dirty clothes on the floor. I’ll get them in a minute, after I bring you fresh ones.”

With another sniffle, Asami started peeling out of her wet clothes. 

Issei left his sister to get herself into the shower. He went down the hallway and turned the light on in Asami’s bedroom, which shared one wall with Kazuki’s bedroom, and another wall with their parents’ bedroom. It was a little surprising that none of them had heard her crying. 

But then again, his parents were both deep sleepers, and Kazuki liked to sleep with a fan on, which tended to drown out background noise. 

Nighttime accidents weren’t uncommon, so Asami’s bed had a waterproof cover under the sheets to protect the mattress from moisture damage. There was also a spare cover in her closet, along with spare bedding, and Issei got all of that out once he was in the room. Then he grabbed clean clothes for his sister, bringing them to the bathroom and leaving them on the counter. 

“Turn off the water and get yourself dressed when you’re done rinsing off,” Issei said, standing in the bathroom for a moment to make sure his sister was alright in the shower. “And don’t forget to use soap.”

“I won’t,” Asami replied sassily. She sounded like she was just fine.

After that, Issei picked up the soiled clothes that were on the floor, taking them back to Asami’s bedroom. He put them on the bed, piled the blankets over them, and pulled the sheets from the corners of the mattress, gathering it all up. Then he took all of it out of the bedroom, through the dining room, and into the kitchen, where there was a closet in the back corner that held the washing machine. He had been in charge of doing his own laundry since the previous year, so he knew how it worked.  

Issei yawned as he got Asami’s bedding stuffed into the washer. He had been on the verge of falling asleep when he first heard his sister crying, and he couldn’t wait to fall back into his bed. He only had about four hours before he usually woke up for school.

Once the washing machine was started, Issei went back to Asami’s bedroom and wrestled with the clean bedding, getting it all in place. Then he went to the bathroom to check on his sister. 

The shower was already off when he went in there, and Asami was almost fully dressed. She was struggling to get her shirt on. 

“Here,” Issei said, going over to help Asami pull her shirt over her head. That’s when he noticed the suds in her hair. “You didn’t get all the shampoo out.”

Asami pouted. “I didn’t want water on my face.”

Issei grabbed the towel his sister had used, wrapping it around her shoulders. “Lean over the sink so I can rinse it out for you.”

“Don’t make the soap go in my eyes,” Asami grumbled as she leaned forward over the sink, which was then filled with her hair. 

“I’ll be careful,” Issei promised. 

He turned the sink on, filling a cup that had been sitting on the counter. Then he blocked Asami’s forehead with one hand as he poured water over her hair. It took several more cup-fulls to get the shampoo out. 

Once the soap was all washed out, Issei had his sister stand up straight so that he could dry her hair with the towel.

“That hurts,” Asami complained, scrunching up her shoulders. 

“Well, you can’t go to bed with wet hair,” Issei said, though he tried to be more gentle after that. It took a lot longer to dry his sister’s shoulder-length hair than it would have to dry his own short hair, and when he tried to brush her hair afterwards, she squirmed and fussed. 

“You’ve got a bunch of knots in the back,” Issei noted, followed by a yawn.

“It’s good enough,” Asami said, trying to pull away. 

Issei held Asami by the shoulder and continued to brush the back of her hair. “Let me get this part, and then you can be done.”

With a huff, Asami crossed her arms and hunched her back. Then she started making mean faces at Issei in the mirror. 

“If you keep doing that, your face is gonna stay that way forever,” Issei teased, glancing at his sister’s reflection as he tried to untangle the knots in the back of her hair. 

Asami immediately stopped making mean faces, and then she started frowning deeply instead, like she was about to cry. Being tired made her more prone to emotional outbursts. 

“I was just kidding,” Issei said, brushing through Asami’s hair one more time. Then he set her hairbrush down on the counter and squeezed the ends of her hair with the towel. “Alright, it’s done. You can go back to bed now.”

“Will you tuck me in?” Asami asked, going over to the bathroom door and waiting there.

“I guess so,” Issei replied with a sigh.  He took Asami to her bedroom and tucked her in under the fresh covers. Then he went to leave the room, flipping the light off when he got to the door.

“Will you read me a book?” Asami sounded hopeful.

“No,” Issei replied plainly, lingering in the doorway. The effects of his sleepless night were weighing on him, making him grumpy. “It’s almost three in the morning.” 

“Will you tell me a story?” Asami wiggled around in her bed like she was restless, despite it being closer to sunrise than sunset. She always had a hard time settling in.

“No,” Issei repeated, turning to look at his little sister with crossed arms. He was barely able to see with only the nightlight to brighten the room. “Go to sleep, Ah-chan.”

“I can’t go to sleep without a story,” Asami complained. “Mom always tells me one at bedtime.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not Mom,” Issei said, yawning again. “And it’s way past bedtime.”

“But . . . I’m scared,” Asami mumbled, hardly speaking louder than a whisper. “It’s dark in here.” 

After a few seconds and a long sigh, Issei lightly slapped his face with both hands to wake himself up. “Fine. I’ll tell you one quick story, and that’s it.”

“Yay!” Asami cheered, doing so a bit too loudly. 

“Shh. It’s too late to be yelling,” Issei said as he went to sit on the edge of Asami’s bed. Then he came up with a simple story about the characters from her favorite show. 

To his relief, Asami fell asleep within twenty minutes. So he crept out of her room and went down the hallway, passing Kazuki’s bedroom door, which was open. He could hear the fan running as he went by. 

When he reached the end of the hallway, he saw someone standing in the doorway of his bedroom. It scared him so much that he almost jumped out of his skin. 

“Holy crap!” Issei gasped, scrambling backwards and holding a hand against his chest. He squinted in the darkness, realizing that it was his little brother standing there. “Kazu?”

Kazuki turned around to stare at Issei, though they couldn’t see each other that well in the dark. 

Ever since turning six, the twins were no longer allowed to bother their parents at night unless they were physically ill. It had been Mr. Matsukawa’s decision to enforce that rule, because he was tired of him and his wife being woken up throughout the night on a regular basis. 

That resulted in Issei being sought out instead over the past several months, usually by his nightmare-plagued little brother. 

“Were you looking for me?” Issei asked in a tight voice, still recovering from the feeling of his heart jumping into his throat. 

Without giving a reply, Kazuki went and hugged Issei’s waist, burying his face against him. He let out a shuddery breath, as if he had been crying up until just recently.

Issei patted Kazuki’s back. “Did you have a bad dream again?”  

Kazuki nodded.

“Want me to tuck you in?” Issei asked, wondering how much longer it was going to take before he could finally go to sleep. 

Kazuki hugged his older brother even tighter. It was obvious that he didn’t want to be alone, and there was only one low effort solution to the problem. 

“Alright,” Issei said in defeat. “As long as you go pee first, you can come sleep in my bed.”

Once that condition was met, the two of them went to bed, and Issei finally got some rest. He didn’t even mind getting kicked in the back by his brother now and then. It didn’t phase him at all, because he was out like a light. 

Early the next morning, Issei was barely able to keep his eyes open on the way to school. He had gotten less than three hours of sleep, and by all measures, that wasn’t nearly enough to sustain the energy and focus of a growing boy. His feet felt heavy as he shuffled down the sidewalk, and he was relying on Takahiro to lead him towards school. He wasn’t even aware of where he was going. It was just a matter of putting one foot in front of the other, keeping Takahiro in his peripheral vision, and trying to avoid collisions with other pedestrians. 

“My grandma’s sick again,” Takahiro remarked, kicking a rock that was in front of his feet. It was hard to tell, but there were very subtle hints of worry in his voice and expression. “She was having a hard time last night.” 

Issei was fiddling with one of the buttons that was on the sleeve of his uniform, staring off into space as he walked alongside his best friend. Beneath his bloodshot eyes, there were dark circles, and each blink was slower than the last.

“Did you hear me?” Takahiro asked, looking at Issei when they stopped at a crosswalk. 

It took a few seconds for Issei to glance at his best friend. “Huh?”

“I said my grandma’s sick,” Takahiro repeated, mindlessly shuffling one of his sneakers against the cement. “It seems pretty bad this time.”

“Oh. I’m sorry,” Issei said, followed by a yawn. “Does she have to go to the hospital again?”

“She said she won’t go there anymore,” Takahiro replied. He slipped his hands into his pockets and let out a sigh. “She’s been acting kinda weird, and my mom’s been all bitchy for no reason. I think they’re mad at each other. But when I asked my dad about it, he said they’re both just tired and scared.”

“That really sucks,” Issei said as he and Takahiro started crossing the street. They were only a few blocks away from their school.  

Takahiro sighed again and stared at the ground in front of his feet, looking much more subdued than usual as he and Issei went through the crosswalk. He almost always had better posture than Issei, but for once, he was hunched over from the weight of his worries. It seemed like he wanted to curl up against himself. 

When they reached the other side of the street, Issei almost tripped over the curb, not having seen it. But he suddenly had two different sets of hands grabbing him on either arm. Takahiro was on his left, and to his right, Sakamoto had shown up just in time to help catch him.

“Are you okay?” Sakamoto asked, holding onto Issei’s arm with a firm grip. He let him go once Issei was steady on his feet.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Issei replied, fighting the urge to lie down on the sidewalk. With how exhausted he was, it didn’t seem like such a bad place for a nap. “I just wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“You’ve been zoning out all morning,” Takahiro said, keeping one hand on Issei’s elbow as he started walking again, leading his best friend towards their school.

“You should be more careful, Matsukawa-kun,” Sakamoto scolded, though he wasn’t rude about it. He walked alongside Issei, briefly glancing at him with concern. 

“I usually am,” Issei said. Thanks to how tired he was, his voice was coming out much softer than usual. “But I didn’t sleep good last night, so I’m kinda out of it today.”

“Were you too sore to fall asleep?” Takahiro asked, still guiding Issei by the elbow. He had his other hand in his pocket, and his posture was suddenly better, as if watching out for Issei had distracted him from his worries. “That’s what happened to me. I was achy all over, but it was the worst in my shoulders. I had to take some Advil to make it go away.”

“Practice has that effect,” Sakamoto remarked with a grin. He kept looking at the ground in front of Issei now and then, in a way that made it seem like he was watching out for obstacles. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I wasn’t that sore,” Issei said. He was relying on Takahiro’s grip on his elbow for direction, since he was starting to zone out again. It was almost impossible to pay attention to where he was going. “I mean, I was sore, but that’s not why I didn’t sleep good. There was just a lot on my mind.”

“Dude, I was up until eleven.” Takahiro shook Issei’s arm a little bit. “You should’ve texted me. That’s what we’ve got phones for, y’know. To keep each other company when we’re not together.”

“I would’ve just kept you awake for no reason,” Issei said. “And besides, I was up until about four.”

Takahiro glanced at Issei, raising his eyebrows. “Wow, that’s really late—or early, depending on how you look at it.”

“Hey, we should all exchange numbers,” Sakamoto suggested, pulling his cell phone out. He held it towards Issei first. 

While he was still walking with Takahiro’s guidance, Issei took Sakamoto’s phone, drowsily adding himself as a contact. He messed his number up twice and had to redo it. Then he typed in Takahiro’s information before passing it back. “There, now you’ve got our numbers.”

“Cool, thanks,” Sakamoto said. “I’ll send you a text later.”

They had just made it to the school, so they went to the club room and changed their clothes for morning practice. Most of their teammates were talking among themselves in there, looking and sounding much more rested than Issei, who sat down on a bench with a tired sigh and slowly tried to unbutton his jacket. 

Yuda was already in the club room, and he waved at his new friends as soon as he saw them, hurrying over to them after getting his gym shorts on. He was the definition of bright-eyed and bushy-tailed. “Good morning!”

“Morning,” Takahiro replied, giving Yuda a friendly nod. 

Issei only hummed in response. Words were way too much effort—he was having a hard enough time focusing on how to get the buttons of his uniform undone. He hadn’t managed to undo a single one yet.

“Whoa, you look tired,” Yuda observed, sitting beside Issei on the long bench that was in the middle of the club room. “Rough night?”

Issei hummed again. 

“He didn’t sleep good,” Takahiro said, right as he finished changing his shirt. Then he went to undo Issei’s buttons for him, since it seemed like it would never get done otherwise.

“You gonna be able to do practice?” Yuda asked, leaning his elbows on his knees. 

Issei nodded and slipped out of his jacket. “I’ll be fine.”

“Coach won’t mind if you need to sit out.” Sakamoto had already managed to change his clothes, and he went over to lean against the wall in front of Issei, staring at him with a concerned frown. 

“Really, I’ll be fine,” Issei said as he switched his undershirt for his gym shirt. Then he stood up and got his pants off, folding them and setting them next to his sports bag. Once he had stepped into his shorts and pulled them up, he sat back down with a sigh, rubbing his hands over his face. “I feel like I’m about to enter my coffee era.”

“I hate to break it to you, but having coffee when you’re this exhausted is only gonna make you feel worse,” Yuda remarked, nudging Issei with his elbow. “Trust me. I’ve tried it before, and it was a bad time.”

“He’s right,” Sakamoto agreed. “It’ll put your body through more stress.”

“Maybe you should splash your face with water,” Takahiro suggested, having just gotten into his gym shorts. After putting his shoes on, he leaned down to help Issei do the same. “That always helps wake me up.”

“Good idea,” Issei said, slowly getting to his feet once his shoes were on. With his friends following behind him, he left the club room and went to the faucets that were along the wall right outside. He turned one on and splashed his face with water, which was near freezing. That was enough to wake him up a little bit.

Takahiro washed his face as well, and so did Yuda, who was at his side. The two of them let out gasps of discomfort at the same time afterwards. It was a cold morning, and the water was even colder. 

Sakamoto didn’t wash his face, but he did stick with the other boys until they went to the gym. 

Practice started with some stretches and a few laps of running, and to Issei, it felt like the ground was made of sand. He couldn’t get himself to go that fast, but Takahiro stuck by him anyway. They were jogging slowly at the back of the group. There was a lot of space between them and the boys they were running behind.

Yuda, who was as much a morning person as he had been the previous day, couldn’t seem to keep himself at their pace. His boundless energy led him up towards the front. It was the same for Sakamoto, who was enthusiastically running with the captain and vice captain of the team, way ahead of everyone else. 

Once the running was done, there were some passing drills. And that’s when disaster struck. 

Issei wasn’t paying attention when Sakamoto sent a volleyball flying at him, and it hit him right in the mouth, splitting his bottom lip open. He covered his face with both of his hands, groaning in pain as he hunched forward and squatted down. 

Within seconds, Takahiro rushed to Issei’s side, examining him as best he could. There was some blood dripping down Issei’s chin. “Oh crap, you’re bleeding!”

At that same moment, Sakamoto hurried over to the bench, where there was a stack of clean towels. He brought one over to Issei and moved his hands away, holding it against his mouth for him. “Sorry about that. I thought you were ready for the ball, or else I wouldn’t have sent it your way.”

“It’s okay,” Issei mumbled, holding the towel to his mouth himself so that Sakamoto didn’t have to keep doing it. “It was my fault for spacing out.”

“You should go to the nurse’s office,” Sakamoto suggested, kneeling down and putting his hand on Issei’s shoulder. “Want me to walk you there?”

“Sure,” Issei replied. He carefully stood up and kept the towel held against his mouth. 

“I’ll come too,” Takahiro said. Then he ran over to the coach and told him where they were going. 

The three boys left the gym after that, heading to the nurse’s office, which wasn’t that far away. And there was no one else in there when they stepped inside the room. School hadn’t started yet, so only students who participated in some type of morning practice were on campus.

“Good morning,” said the nurse, looking at the three boys from where she sat at her desk. She was quick to notice the towel that was pressed to Issei’s mouth. “Did something happen while you were at practice?”

“He accidentally got hit in the mouth with a volleyball,” Sakamoto explained, his tone sounding thoroughly guilty and apologetic. “It busted his lip open.”

“Let’s have a look,” the nurse said. She had Issei sit on one of the beds that were in the room, and then she inspected his injury. “It’s just a small cut. Won’t need stitches or anything like that. But I’m sure it hurts, doesn’t it? Would you like some ice?”

Issei nodded. His lip was stinging, though it wasn’t too bad. The thing that was bothering him the most was how tired he felt. He didn’t know how he was going to get through the school day, let alone afternoon practice and the walk home that followed. He also had a headache coming on, and while that might have been from getting hit in the face, it was just as likely from his lack of sleep. 

The nurse left the room to get ice, and that left the three boys alone for a few minutes. 

“You know, it’s not good to push through sleep deprivation,” Sakamoto said. He was standing near the bed Issei was sitting on, staring at him with his arms crossed. He still seemed like he felt deeply guilty about hitting Issei’s face with a volleyball. “Maybe you can sleep here for a bit.”

“Would that be okay?” Issei asked, almost flopping down right then and there. 

“The nurse won’t mind,” Sakamoto replied, grinning softly as he studied Issei’s desperate expression. “She’s really nice about that kind of thing.”

“Man, I wish I could stay here to get out of class.” Takahiro put his hands on his hips and looked at the other three beds that were in the room. Then he cracked an impish grin, speaking playfully. “Maybe I should get someone to punch me in the face real quick.”

Sakamoto cracked his knuckles, sounding so serious that it was hard to tell if he was joking or not. “I’ll try not to break your nose.”

“If I get to stay here for a few hours, will you take notes for me?” Issei asked, reaching to tug on Takahiro’s shirt. He hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation. Their first subject was the one he struggled with the most, and he was worried about missing it. 

After giving Sakamoto a suspicious glance, Takahiro nodded at Issei, patting his shoulder. “Yeah, sure. I’ll try to make ‘em extra neat and readable.”

“Thanks,” Issei said with a slight smile, which pulled at the cut on his lip, making him flinch. He pressed the towel to it again, even though he wasn’t bleeding that much anymore. 

When the nurse came back with a bag of ice, Issei explained that he hadn’t slept well and asked if he could take a nap. He was given permission to do so. With a sigh of relief, he got comfortable on the bed, hardly even taking the time to bid Takahiro and Sakamoto farewell before closing his eyes and falling asleep.

If not for that glorious nap, which ended up being just about three hours long, he probably wouldn’t have been able to stay for afternoon practice. It was much more enjoyable than the morning one had been. Although the bar for that was pretty low, all things considered. 

And just like the day before, Sakamoto offered to toss for Issei, but not before apologizing for the tenth time about accidentally hitting him in the face. 

Thanks to Sakamoto’s setting, Issei, Takahiro, and Yuda were able to practice their blocks, spikes, and receives after the usual drills were over. They also played another impromptu practice game with their teammates, and because Issei had a better understanding of how it all worked, he enjoyed it even more than the one from the previous day. The only thing that would have made it better was a full night’s rest. 

His energy faded again by the time practice was over, and he was sore from playing so much. But he didn’t let himself complain while he and Takahiro were walking home. In fact, he tried not to talk much at all, so as not to agitate the cut on his lip. Instead he focused on putting one foot in front of the other, and he listened to Takahiro talk about how exciting it would be when they got to play in a real game. 

A few months later, Issei and Takahiro were cleaning the gym after volleyball practice. They had gotten the routine of it down to a science. So had the other new members of the club, and with the help of the older kids, it went quickly. They finished early enough that the team decided to head over to a nearby convenience store for snacks and drinks, and they were currently on their way there. 

“Your blocks are getting much better,” Sakamoto said. That compliment was directed at Issei, who was walking between him and Takahiro, with Yuda and their other teammates just ahead of them. 

“Thanks,” Issei replied, feeling proud of himself. “I’ve been working really hard on them.”

Takahiro lightly elbowed Issei’s arm. “You’ll be a starter in no time.” 

“No way,” said one of the older members of the team, glancing back at them with a competitive grin. “He’s not taking my spot.”

“Yeah, I’m not giving mine up either,”  said a third-year middle blocker. “You can pry it out of my cold, dead hands.”

Without missing a beat, Takahiro spoke in a serious tone, his eyes and expression darkening mischievously. “Well, you know what they say. Accidents happen all the time.”

“You’re graduating this year anyway,” Yuda pointed out, glancing at the third-year middle blocker, who was walking right beside him. “That spot won’t be yours forever.”

“Personally, I’m not worried about my spot,” remarked one of the second-year starters. “You guys might be improving, but you’re nowhere near ready for an actual game. No offense.”

“You’re right. I’m still pretty bad at receiving,” Issei said, not willing to lie to himself about his current level of skill. He knew he still had a long way to go.

“Hey, you’re getting better and better every day,” Sakamoto said, sounding cheerful and encouraging as he patted Issei’s upper back. Then he addressed the whole team. “And besides, it’s good to be driven. There’s nothing wrong with a little rivalry between teammates. Coach even said that, remember?”

A few noncommittal hums and words of agreement came from the front of the group, so Sakamoto turned his full attention back to Issei, smiling warmly at him. “Don’t sell yourself short, Matsukawa-kun. You’re doing really well.”

“Yeah, you’re better than you think you are.” Takahiro squeezed Issei’s arm. “But just so you know, I won’t let you take a starting spot without me. We’re gonna play our first real game together.”

“You’re receives aren’t that bad for a beginner,” Sakamoto said to Takahiro, his voice becoming much more flat than it had been. “But your spikes and serves still need a lot of work.”

“Good thing I plan on practicing a lot,” Takahiro retorted. He didn’t seem pleased with the criticism, and after he spoke, he linked arms with Issei and pulled him closer to his half of the sidewalk. 

“You’re already way better than you were when we first joined the team,” Issei said, wanting to reassure his best friend as much as he could. He was really proud of Takahiro for sticking it out in the volleyball club. This was the first time the two of them stayed with one sport for so long, and he was hopeful that they could keep going throughout middle school, maybe even into high school. 

“Just keep your weaknesses in mind, Hanamaki-kun,” Sakamoto remarked as he moved his bulky sports bag from one shoulder to the other, which allowed him to walk even closer to Issei than he had been. Then he leaned forward briefly to grin at Takahiro, winking in an almost sarcastic way. “Don’t be afraid of working hard.”

Takahiro scoffed softly, rolling his eyes without offering a reply. His and Issei’s arms were still linked. That was keeping them close to each other as they walked along, sharing the wide sidewalk with Sakamoto, who hadn’t caught sight of Takahiro’s reaction to his words. If he had, he most certainly would have taken the opportunity to admonish his underclassman. He seemed to enjoy pointing out Takahiro’s flaws and giving him unwanted advice on how to improve himself. 

At that moment, Issei was feeling a lot of tension between the boys walking on either side of him, and since he also happened to be between them, it became strangely suffocating. It was quite obvious to him that Takahiro didn’t like Sakamoto, and the feeling seemed to be mutual. 

The two of them just didn’t click. 

Takahiro was the type of person who usually decided whether or not he liked someone based entirely on his first impression of them, which explained why he had urged Yuda to join the volleyball team within seconds of meeting him. He knew a potential friend when he saw one. His intuition had been right, because he and Issei continued to get along well with Yuda, as if they had known him for a long time. He was actually the only person they had truly bonded with at school since the start of the year. 

In Sakamoto’s case, despite him having acted polite and friendly when they first met, Takahiro bristled around him for no apparent reason right from the start. If they weren’t in a club together, it’s likely Takahiro would have avoided him completely, or else acted rudely towards him until he got the hint that he wasn’t wanted. And that would have led Issei to distancing himself from Sakamoto for the sake of his best friend’s peace of mind. 

But that wasn’t really possible under the current circumstances, especially since Sakamoto always went out of his way to help Issei during practice. That meant Takahiro and Yuda were also receiving the benefit of his guidance more often than not. 

However, even though Takahiro tolerated Sakamoto as a teammate, he obviously had no intention of accepting him as a friend. 

The large group of boys made it to the store in just another few minutes, so the strange tension between Takahiro and Sakamoto broke when they went inside single file, following Issei’s lead. The small store was filled to the brim with the members of the volleyball team. Everyone got themselves a pork bun or two, a drink, and some even got an ice pop to beat the heat of that humid July evening. 

Then they all ate in front of the store. It was almost dusk, so the sun was going down, leaving long shadows and golden light all across the parking lot. The sound of cicadas in a nearby field could be heard from where the team was gathered. 

“Mmm, the pork buns here are so good,” Takahiro said, his mouth full of what he was praising. 

Yuda nodded vigorously in agreement. He was sitting next to Takahiro, and he had stuffed most of a pork bun in his mouth. His cheeks were all puffed out. 

“They’re not the best I’ve had,” Sakamoto remarked casually. He looked at Issei, who was sitting between him and Takahiro on the curb. “There’s a place by my house that sells the most amazing pork buns I’ve ever eaten. If you want, I’ll take you to get some one of these days. Maybe during summer break.”

“That would be cool,” Issei said, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He didn’t really have any intention of hanging out with Sakamoto outside of school. They didn’t know each other that well yet, but more importantly, he knew Takahiro wouldn’t be happy about it. 

There was suddenly a lot of tension between Takahiro and Sakamoto, just like there had been earlier. And since they were on either side of Issei, he was once again suffocating in it, which made him feel like he needed to escape. So he shoved the rest of his first pork bun in his mouth, standing up and speaking as soon as he was done chewing it. “Well, we should get going.”

“YES!” Takahiro quickly got to his feet, though he backtracked his enthusiasm and gave a casual shrug right afterwards. “I mean, yeah. It’s getting late.”

Yuda had just finished eating one of his pork buns, and he smiled up at his friends from where he still sat on the curb. “See you guys later.”

“It was fun hanging out for a while,” Sakamoto said, calmly getting to his feet. 

Issei’s mouth was full of food. He had bought two pork buns, the second of which he had just bitten into, leaving less than half of it. So instead of saying his goodbyes out loud, he bowed at Sakamoto and gave Yuda a silent fist bump.  

Sakamoto turned towards Issei with a smile, reaching out to softly punch his shoulder. “Be careful getting home.”

“We walk home together, so we’ll be fine,” Takahiro said, sounding a little smug. Then he flashed a genuine grin at Yuda, holding up a peace sign. “Later, dude.”

Sakamoto’s gaze had very briefly shifted to Takahiro, then back to Issei, his smile never faltering. “See you tomorrow.”

Issei nodded as Takahiro pulled his elbow to get him going. After that, the two of them walked across the parking lot without saying anything, which gave Issei time to finish eating his second pork bun. He swallowed it with a sense of disappointment. Having been in such a hurry to eat, he hadn’t really gotten to enjoy either of his pork buns.

Once they were alone, Takahiro stretched his arms over his head, letting out a yawn. Then he grumpily shoved his hands in his pockets. “You know what? I don’t really like Sakamoto-san that much. Actually, I don’t like him at all.”

“Yeah, I kinda figured. You haven’t exactly been subtle about it.” Issei was moving towards his and Takahiro’s neighborhood, which was about twenty minutes away from the convenience store. “What don’t you like about him?”

“Dunno,” Takahiro replied. He thought about it for a few seconds, and then he shrugged, apparently not willing to put that much effort into figuring it out. “Something about him bugs me. He’s just got, like, a weird vibe or something. I can’t explain it.”

“He’s been nice to us,” Issei said, going down the sidewalk at an unhurried pace. “And he always tosses for us during practice.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Takahiro muttered, adjusting the strap on his new sports bag, which was slung across his chest. He also had his book bag hanging over one shoulder. “He compliments you all the time, but he doesn’t do that as much with anyone else. It’s like you’re his favorite person.” 

After hearing that, Issei glanced at Takahiro, sensing jealousy in his attitude and expression. “Well, he’s never gonna be my favorite person. You know that, right? You’re my best friend, and that means you’re my favorite person out of everyone. No matter what happens, and no matter who else we know, that’s always gonna be true.”

The sense of relief that washed over Takahiro was obvious and immediate. He grinned, meeting Issei’s gaze as they walked down the dimly lit street. The last rays of sunlight were fading away. “You really mean that?”

Issei stopped moving and held out his hand, not saying anything. He and Takahiro did their secret handshake, and then he playfully ruffled Takahiro’s hair, which had gotten a little shaggy over the past few months. Takahiro’s pinkish-red highlights always stood out more when his hair was longer. 

“I’ve always got your back, and you’ll always be my best friend,” Issei promised. 

“Same for you,” Takahiro said, looking cheerful as they started going up the sidewalk again. He was walking tall, with his shoulders squared and his chest puffed out. “Hey, do you think I could make team captain eventually?”

“I’m sure you could,” Issei said, and he fully meant it. 

Takahiro pulled a bottle of tea out of his sports bag when they passed under another street light. He drank some of it, still walking as he did so. Then he offered the bottle to Issei. “You can be my vice.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Issei grinned and took the bottle, taking a long drink before giving it back.

“My grandma said she’s gonna come watch us practice soon,” Takahiro remarked in a soft voice, suddenly growing kind of somber as he put his bottle of tea away. “She said she’s feeling better lately.”

“That’s good,” Issei said, glancing at his best friend. Takahiro’s grandmother had been sick for a long time. It was hard seeing her struggle, gradually growing weaker and weaker. But she always made it seem like everything was alright. 

After a few moments, Takahiro cleared his throat. “I hope we get to be starters soon. Grandma would like seeing us in a real game, you know? She said she’s looking forward to it.”

“Yeah,” Issei said. “Let’s do our best.”

As they made their way home, Issei once again thought about how proud he was of Takahiro for sticking with volleyball. It had been three months of attending practice twice a day, going through repetitive conditioning and drills, learning how to work as a team, and all without a single mention of giving up or getting bored from his best friend. He felt more hopeful than ever that they would still be playing by the end of middle school.

Chapter Text

Age 13

By the end of their first year of middle school, Issei and Takahiro no longer sucked at volleyball. They had been able to play in many informal practice games with their teammates, as had Yuda, and those really helped improve their skills.

But when the start of their second year of middle school rolled around, they still hadn’t played in a practice match against another school yet. And none of them were picked as starters. This was disappointing, though not entirely unexpected. There were some very talented third-years on their team, and their libero was the only second-year to be chosen as a starter.

After hitting a growth spurt, Issei had gotten a little taller than Takahiro, who had also grown a lot over the past several months. The two boys were only shorter than a few of the third-years. And they were both nearly a whole head taller than Yuda, whose stature remained perfectly average. 

The increase in height wasn’t the only change Issei and Takahiro were going through. Their voices were starting to crack a little bit here and there, slowly deepening and changing. They were also noticeably putting on muscle as a result of all their training. 

However, there was another change they had to go through at the start of that year. One that wasn’t physical, wasn’t measurable, and wasn’t pleasant. 

About five weeks after the beginning of school, Takahiro’s grandmother passed away, and they experienced the grief of losing a family member for the first time. Because she had been terminally ill for a few years, her death wasn’t a surprise. There was even some relief that she no longer had to suffer. 

But that didn’t make it any easier to say goodbye. 

Yuko took an entire week off work after Grandma’s passing. She and her children stayed at Misumi’s house during that time, and she cooked almost every meal, keeping her dearest friend company all the while. And both women let their children stay home from school to grieve. Grandma had been a big part of their lives, knowing all six of the children since infancy, and having helped to care for them until they started elementary school. 

For the first half of that week, Etsu hardly left the room that she and Rei shared. She preferred to mourn by herself. But when Grandma’s things were sorted through and stored away, she finally had her own bedroom to move into, and she did so without much hesitation. She felt closer to her grandmother there. She was also able to be fully alone, having space of her own for the first time in many years. 

As for Rei, she cried on and off for the first few days. She also found comfort in the show she and the twins liked to watch together. Then she chose to spend her extra time at home playing with Asami and Kazuki, usually staying in the backyard during the day, where they could freely use their imaginations to process their feelings. They would all be eight years old in just about a month, and it would be hard to celebrate a birthday without one of the most important adults in their life. 

Almost everyone was deeply struggling to accept that Grandma wasn’t around anymore. Aside from Mr. Matsukawa—who gave his condolences at the funeral and then buried himself in work again—the adults were emotional as they adjusted to having less genuine warmth, lighthearted sass, and child-like playfulness in their lives. Those had been some of Grandma’s strongest traits. 

Kazuki was having more nightmares, so he slept beside his mother during that week at the Hanamaki house, as did his twin sister. They both needed more nighttime comfort.

Asami was having mood swings and long outbursts. She hardly let her mother or twin brother out of her sight until after the funeral, and she was chewing her nails worse than she normally did. 

Rei’s active imagination betrayed her by turning her extensive daydreams into endless loops of stressful scenarios.

Etsu alternated between sarcasm and silence when she bothered to venture downstairs, which was only at mealtimes. 

Issei’s sadness over losing Grandma simmered just below the surface, and he privately cried over it whenever he found time to be alone during that week spent at his best friend’s house.

Everyone went through their own process of coping after losing Grandma, but it was Takahiro who had the most worrisome expression of grief. For five whole days, he barely ate, and he wouldn’t leave his bed unless someone prompted him to use the bathroom, take a shower, or get outside for some fresh air. The someone doing that prompting was usually Issei, since he hadn’t left Takahiro’s side. 

On the sixth day, Issei stirred around earlier than Takahiro did, just like he had every other day that week. 

Getting up was more difficult than usual, so he tended to have an hour or two of silence before he finally got out of Takahiro’s bed and went to eat breakfast each morning. He used that time to grieve and quietly shed tears as he thought about Takahiro’s grandmother. She had been an important person in his life, and because he had never lost a loved one before, it made him feel two very unfamiliar things: the ache of words forever left unsaid, and the longing for special moments that could never be repeated. It also made him more fearful about losing other people in his life.

After having his morning cry, Issei got out of bed, changed out of his pajamas, and went to wash his face. Then he came back to the bedroom and stared at his best friend.

Takahiro was sleeping on his side, facing the wall with his body all curled up. That was the position he had been in for much of the past week. Ever since his grandmother’s funeral, he looked the most calm and peaceful when he was asleep. It was almost a shame to disturb him. 

However, Takahiro had noticeably lost weight from not eating that week, and Issei was starting to feel concerned about it. So he walked over to the bed and tapped on Takahiro’s shoulder. 

“Hey, wake up,” Issei said. “Let’s go have breakfast.”

Takahiro grumbled incoherently, swatting at Issei in his sleep. 

“Come on,” Issei insisted, still tapping on his best friend. “It smells like someone’s making pancakes.”

That was one of Takahiro’s favorite breakfast foods, especially if Mr. Hanamaki was doing the cooking. His pancakes were always super fluffy on the inside, slightly crisp around the edges, and just buttery enough to perfectly balance out the sweetness of maple syrup. So it normally would have gotten Takahiro moving if he knew there were some being made. 

But this time, Takahiro didn’t react with excitement at all. He just curled up into a tighter ball and screwed his eyes shut.

“We could go get some cream puffs from the bakery,” Issei suggested, trying another food-related tactic to wake his best friend up. 

Takahiro rolled onto his back and very briefly peeked his eyes open. Then he closed them again and pulled his blanket up to his chin, putting his pillow over the top half of his face afterwards. Only his mouth was visible, and his lips were pressed into a hard line, as if he were going the extra mile to keep himself from talking.

Issei stared at Takahiro, wondering what he should do. There were only a few options that came to mind. He could steal the covers, especially since it was cold in the room. He could go to the bathroom and get a washcloth, put water on it, and wipe Takahiro’s face with it. And as a last resort, he could tickle him. But all of those options would probably make Takahiro angry, and when it came to the last one, it would almost certainly result in Issei getting reflexively kicked by his half-asleep best friend. 

Nothing pissed Takahiro off more than being tickled, especially if he was tired or caught by surprise. It sent him right into fight-or-flight mode. 

Although, that did make it a very effective method of waking him. 

The bedroom door opened before Issei could come to a decision about how to annoy his best friend into consciousness, thus saving him from the risk of taking a foot to the face. 

“I’ve got breakfast for you boys,” Mr. Hanamaki said, carrying a tray that had two plates on it. There were three pancakes on each one, along with sliced strawberries and whipped cream. He had gone all out. 

Takahiro kept the pillow over his face and stayed perfectly still, so it wasn’t clear whether or not he noticed the pleasant aroma of freshly cooked pancakes. He didn’t acknowledge his father at all.

Issei looked at the plates as he stood near the bed, though he didn’t move to take one. “What about the ‘no food upstairs’ rule?”

“Rules can be broken if there’s a serious need,” Mr. Hanamaki replied in a playful tone, setting the tray down on the nightstand. Then he handed one plate to Issei, picking the other one up after and going to sit on the edge of the bed with it. “And I seriously need my son to eat something.”

Issei sat at Takahiro’s desk with his plate, watching Mr. Hanamaki cut a piece of pancake with a fork.

Meanwhile, Takahiro took the pillow off of his face, putting it under his head so that he could stare at his father without saying anything. He hadn’t spoken very much in general that week. 

“It’s time to eat,” Mr. Hanamaki said as he waved a bite of pancake in front of Takahiro’s mouth, zig-zagging it and making big circles. Then he started speaking in a baby-talk voice. “Alright, here it comes. Open wide for the airplane. Hurry, before it crashes!”

“How old do you think I am?” Takahiro asked dryly, seeming completely unamused.

Mr. Hanamaki kept waving the fork in front of Takahiro’s face, though he spoke normally now. “Old enough to appreciate breakfast in bed, I hope.”

As if he were being forced into it against his will, Takahiro grumpily snatched the fork and ate the piece of pancake, glaring at his father with narrowed eyes while he chewed it. Then he scooted up into a seated position and leaned against his headboard. Once he had gotten himself comfortable, he grabbed the plate from his father and took another bite. 

And another. 

And another. 

Each bite seemed to make him hungrier. 

Mr. Hanamaki watched Takahiro devour all three of the pancakes. His expression was soft, and his eyes were filled with subtle relief. “You’ve been worrying your mother by skipping meals all week. She was stressing out this morning, wondering how to help you. But I told her we shouldn’t worry unless you reject my pancakes. If that day ever comes, I’d have to haul you right to the hospital for a full work up.”

“Are there any more?” Takahiro asked, stabbing the last few strawberry slices with his fork. 

“There will be,” Mr. Hanamaki replied as he got to his feet and grabbed the tray off the nightstand. Then he headed towards the door. “Just give me about twenty minutes.”

Takahiro set his plate on the nightstand, looking over at Issei’s food, like he wanted to ask for some. But he didn’t say anything. His eyes spoke for him, saying he was still hungry.

“Do you want the rest of mine?” Issei asked, since he still had two pancakes and a pile of sliced strawberries left. His relief over seeing his best friend eat a full meal was as great as Mr. Hanamaki’s had been, if not more so, and he was quite willing to give up the rest of his breakfast to maintain that progress.  

“No, it’s okay. I’ll have more after my dad makes them.” Takahiro slowly scooted to the edge of his bed, swinging his feet over the side, as if he were going to get up. However, he stayed where he was and grimaced. “You know what I was just thinking?” 

“What?” Issei asked through a mouth full of pancakes. 

“If I don’t get back to practice soon, I’m gonna fall behind,” Takahiro said, running his hands up and down his thighs. “I feel like I’ve lost some strength already.”

“Well, you haven’t been eating much,” Issei pointed out, speaking in between bites. “Your body’s gotta burn muscle to make up for the lack of food.”

“I know,” Takahiro muttered, rubbing the back of his neck as he stared at the ground. “I just couldn’t get anything down. Until this morning, my stomach was hurting too much.”

Issei hummed and spoke in a gentle voice. “Is it ‘cause you’re sad?”

“Maybe. I’m not really sure how I feel,” Takahiro replied. “I haven’t even been able to cry yet. It’s like . . . I need to, but I can’t. My eyes are all constipated.”

“You should talk to your dad about it,” Issei suggested. He didn’t think he knew enough about grieving to help his best friend through it on his own. 

“Yeah.” Takahiro finally stood up, stretching his arms above his head. Then he went to his dresser to change out of his pajamas, putting on gym shorts, a loose shirt, and some ankle-high socks. “Wanna play volleyball at the park?”

“Sure,” Issei replied, glancing out the window. The sky was gray and cloudy. “It might rain today though.”

Takahiro walked over to the window, putting his hands on his hips as he looked outside. “Seems like perfect weather to me.”

“That’s only ‘cause you don’t like sunny days,” Issei murmured, grinning as he watched Takahiro leave the room. He worked on finishing his food while Takahiro freshened up in the bathroom. 

Right after Takahiro came back, he and Issei went downstairs, and both of them got more pancakes. Mr. Hanamaki had made enough to feed a small army. 

Everyone else was sitting at the large table in the dining room, so Issei and Takahiro joined them. It felt strange to be eating as a group without Grandma around to insist that everyone should have seconds and thirds. But there was some nostalgic reminiscing between Yuko and Misumi, shared giggles over whispered jokes between Rei and Asami, quiet smiles from Kazuki as he listened to the others, sassy comments from Etsu, and some terrible puns from Mr. Hanamaki that made Takahiro and Issei glance at each other, rolling their eyes. 

All of that helped things feel a bit closer to normal. 

Once they had eaten their fill, Takahiro and Issei left the house with just a volleyball and a bottle of water, not bothering to bring their phones. Then they headed towards the park that was just outside of their neighborhood. 

Even though the sun was blocked by the dark clouds overhead, it wasn’t that cold outside. As long as they were moving their bodies, it felt like the ideal temperature. But it wouldn’t have been as comfortable if they were just standing around. In that case, they would probably need sweatpants instead of shorts, and jackets would have been a good idea. 

However, even movement might not help them stay warm if it started to rain.

“We should’ve brought umbrellas,” Issei remarked, looking up at the increasingly cloudy sky as he and Takahiro made it to the park. He had the volleyball tucked under one arm.

“A little rain never hurt anybody,” Takahiro said with a grin, acting more like his usual self. He had been tossing the water bottle up in the air and catching it for the past few minutes. 

They made it to the net that was set up on one side of the park, though calling it a net wasn’t quite accurate. It was just a rope tied between two trees. The older boys who played volleyball there sometimes had set it up themselves. 

“Should we practice serving?” Issei asked, spinning the ball in his hands. “Or do you wanna just pass it back and forth?”

“Let’s see how long we can keep it going back and forth over the net,” Takahiro replied as he left the water bottle near one of the two trees. Then he ducked under the rope and stood on the opposite side of the make-shift net.

“Here it comes,” Issei said, tossing the ball up and hitting it over the rope. 

“Got it.” Takahiro bumped the ball, sending it over to Issei on the other side. 

Issei ran to where the ball was heading, barely managing to dig it and send it back over. He couldn’t stop himself from cracking a wide smile. After nearly a week away from school and practice, getting to play again was just what he needed. 

The two of them carried on with passing drills for nearly an hour. The ball went back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. Over and over. The repetition of it was soothing and familiar, and for the first time that week, Takahiro looked happy. 

It was the same for Issei, who was fully immersed in the moment. His body acted on instinct, and he was able to completely let go of his thoughts, focusing only on where the ball was going to be and how he wanted to send it back. The only distracting thought he had during that time was wishing they were on an actual court. 

But even without the squeak of shoes echoing in a gym and the smell of salonpas, nothing could beat the feeling of hitting a ball back and forth with his best friend on a cloudy day. The fresh air felt good in his lungs, and the mild temperature was mixing with his sweat, cooling him down just enough to make him more comfortable. 

They kept playing when it started to sprinkle, until it was coming down hard enough to mess with where the ball was going. The ground beneath them, which was patches of grass and dirt, became muddy and slippery.

Next time the ball came Issei’s way, he caught it instead of bumping it. He and Takahiro both had wet hair and shoulders. “Should we go home now?”

Takahiro didn’t answer. He was suddenly staring down at the ground, and his face was all scrunched up like he might burst into tears. 

“Are you okay?” Issei asked, passing under the rope so that he could get closer to his best friend.

That question broke the dam that was holding back Takahiro’s tears. A sob shook him, and he covered his eyes with the back of his wrist, letting out an emotional gasp. 

Issei set the volleyball down and wrapped his arms around Takahiro, letting him cry onto his shoulder. They stood that way for a long time. The rain was coming down harder and harder with each passing minute, but neither of them cared about getting drenched. Takahiro clung to Issei’s shirt as he cried, and Issei held him without saying anything, because nothing needed to be said. Being present was the only thing to do at that moment.

Eventually, they were soaked right down to their skin from head to toe. But it wasn’t cold enough outside for that to be unpleasant. In fact, after all the exercise from the past hour, the cool rain felt rather refreshing. 

When Takahiro finally stopped crying, he rested his forehead on Issei’s shoulder and let out a deep, shuddery sigh. Then he stood up straight, wiping his face on the inside of his wet shirt. “I really needed that.”

“Do you feel a little better now that you got all that out?” Issei asked, ignoring the raindrops that were hitting his face. 

“Yeah.” Takahiro stayed close to Issei so that he could be heard over the rain. “I realized my grandma never got to see us play in a real game, and it just . . . it really bummed me out. She was looking forward to that so much.”

“At least she got to see some of our practice games,” Issei said, though he knew that wasn’t going to offer much comfort.  

“It was just us against our teammates,” Takahiro muttered. Then he hunched his shoulders and rubbed his eyes with his palms, groaning like he was frustrated. “I wanna play in a real game!”

“We will,” Issei promised. “Someday, we’ll be starters.”

“It’s too bad our darling captain doesn’t have more influence over our coach,” Takahiro said, his tone sarcastic as he wiped his face, for what little good that did. It was raining so much that he might as well have been standing under a shower head. “I’m sure he’d make you a starter if he could.”

Things between Sakamoto and Takahiro hadn’t really gotten any more friendly over the past year, but they had at least gotten used to each other as teammates. There was a basic level of tolerance between them—that is, they ignored each other more often than not. And since Sakamoto was their captain now, Takahiro made an effort, within reason, to be more respectful towards him when pretending he didn’t exist wasn’t an option. 

Just like when they first met, Sakamoto still treated Issei with a lot of care and kindness, so Issei couldn’t help being nice to him. But that didn’t mean he thought of him as a friend. Mostly for Takahiro’s sake, he kept some distance between himself and Sakamoto, not hanging out with him outside of practice.  

“Once the third-years leave the team, we’ll both get to be starters,” Issei said, wiping moisture away from his face as best he could, though there wasn’t much point in doing that. The rain immediately got it wet again. His bangs were clinging to his forehead, and drops of water kept pooling on his eyelashes.

“They said they won’t be leaving until they graduate.” Takahiro leaned down to pick up the volleyball, and then he got the water bottle from near the tree, taking a quick drink before giving it to Issei. “They’re a bunch of stubborn jerks.”

“We’d probably do the same thing if we were them,” Issei pointed out as he took the water bottle. He drank half of it before closing the lid. “Once I’m a starter, I’m gonna play for as long as I can.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Takahiro said, running a hand through his hair, which looked much darker when it was wet. After that, he sighed and started walking away. “Let’s go home.”

Issei hummed in agreement, following Takahiro out of the park. 

By the time they made it back to Takahiro’s house, the rain had slowed down to a light drizzle. They left their soggy shoes outside to dry, and they stripped down to their boxers before coming into the house, not wanting to get the floor all wet. 

Their mothers scolded them for being out in the weather without umbrellas, and after they each took a shower and got dry clothes on, they were given a cup of tea to warm them up. Then they helped Rei and Kazuki with a huge puzzle, which was spread out over the dining room table. Asami was there too, but she wasn’t helping with the puzzle, having chosen to color a picture instead. Mr. Hanamaki had given her some drawing exercises that were supposed to help her deal with her grief and anxiety.  

Neither of the boys got sick from being out in the rain. They were better off than they had been, both physically and emotionally. Getting a bit of fresh air and exercise, as well as letting out some pent up feelings, did them a world of good.

A couple of days later, Issei and Takahiro went back to school for the first time since Grandma’s passing. When they showed up to the club room before morning practice, they were greeted by Yuda, who was in their class again that year. He was the last person in the room, because he had gotten there a little late, just like Issei and Takahiro had.

“Hey, you guys are back!” Yuda hurried to open his book bag, digging around in it. He pulled out a stack of papers, and using the bench as a table, he sorted them into two piles. Then he held one out to each of his friends. “I took lots of notes while you were gone. We’ve got a test this Friday, so you should study.”

“Dude,” Takahiro said, taking one of the stacks of paper and flipping through it. “You’re seriously amazing.”

“You’re a lifesaver,” Issei added as he put the papers from Yuda into his bag. He had been particularly nervous about falling behind in his studies, so the thoughtful gesture actually meant quite a lot to him. “Thanks for doing that.”

“You’re welcome! But you know, all I did was photocopy my notes. It wasn’t a big deal.” Yuda changed into his gym shorts, and after he tied the string, he looked up and gasped like he had just remembered something important. Then he solemnly put a hand on Takahiro’s shoulder. “Hey, sorry about your grandma. Are you doing alright?”

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Takahiro replied as he slipped his shoes off. Then he switched his pants for his gym shorts and unbuttoned his jacket. “I only took the week off ‘cause my family needed me around for support.”

Issei raised an eyebrow at Takahiro, though he had no intention of revealing how hard the past week had been for his best friend. Instead he just busied himself with getting changed out of his uniform. He was looking forward to being on the court again, and he hoped there would be a practice game among his teammates when drills were over. There was a part of him that desperately wanted to feel the thrill of blocking someone’s spike. 

Once they were all ready, they walked to the gym together, and that’s when Sakamoto spotted them. He came over to greet them, but his words seemed like they were mostly aimed at Issei, as if the other two boys weren’t even there.

“It’s good to see you,” Sakamoto said as he softly bumped his fist against Issei’s chest. “You picked the perfect day to come back. We’ve got a practice match with Toyokuro after school, and we’re gonna have both nets set up. That way, we can have two games going—one between starters, and one between those who’d like a chance to play against another school.”

“Wait . . .” Issei felt excitement bubbling up inside of him. “So it’ll be a real practice game?”

“That’s right,” Sakamoto said with a nod. “You can be the captain for the second game, so pick some guys to play with you.” His gaze finally shifted from Issei to Yuda, and then to Takahiro, though he quickly looked back at Issei after that. “I’m guessing you’ve got two of ‘em right here.”

“Yeah, it’s gotta be them.” Issei grinned as he glanced at his friends. “We just need a few more.”

“Well, there’s only one extra libero on our team,” Takahiro remarked. “It’s that goofy first-year.”

“He’s not too bad,” Yuda said, looking over at the aforementioned first-year. 

“Toyokuro always has good players, so you better be sure to practice as a group as much as you can,” Sakamoto said, still addressing Issei more than anyone else. He seemed genuinely happy about the opportunity that had presented itself to his most treasured underclassman. “You should get started on warm-ups after you pick your other players.”

“Will do,” Issei said, scanning the gym to find a few specific boys. He already knew who he was going to choose. 

After gathering his teammates, Issei led them through some warm-ups, and then they ran a few drills to practice their plays. It was exciting for Issei to be in charge. Even though he hadn’t ever considered himself a candidate for captain before, he took the job of Temporary Extra Captain seriously, doing his best to be a good leader. 

They were all eager to begin when the other school’s team arrived later that day. And overall, it went very well once things got going. 

Issei, Takahiro, and Yuda were already used to working together on the court, and the other boys fell into rhythm with them by the end of the first set, which they lost. But with a lot of effort and determination, they took the other two sets, winning the practice game. 

Victory was sweet and satisfying, placing an addictive hold on those who had tasted it. Issei craved more opportunities to take on other schools, as did his teammates, most of whom still had energy to spare at the end of the match. 

Takahiro was the only one who struggled to keep playing until the last set was over. His week-long lack of food and exercise took a toll on him, though that hadn’t been enough to discourage him. He pushed himself hard and managed to score plenty of points for his team.

The group of starters also won their game, so the atmosphere was full of pride and excitement after the players from the other school left. Once the gym was cleaned up, they all went to get ice pops as a celebratory treat, and Sakamoto bought pork buns for everyone—even Takahiro, who wasn’t stubborn enough to refuse free food from his least favorite teammate.  

That night, Issei and Takahiro went home feeling excited about their future in volleyball. They could hardly wait to become starters for their team, and with any luck, they would get to play in more practice games against other schools until that happened.

During the summer break of his second year of middle school, Issei was invited to Sakamoto’s birthday party, as was the rest of the team, the girls’ volleyball team, and many other students. Sakamoto was well-known (and well liked) among his peers. Back when he had been made captain at the beginning of the school year, his popularity grew even greater than it already was, so almost everyone he invited had agreed to come to his overnight party. It was going to be a crowded event.

Issei hadn’t been to that many birthday parties in general, and when it came to sleeping over at a friend’s house, he had only ever stayed the night at Takahiro’s place. He also hadn’t been to any parties that were as large as this one was going to be, having only attended the small family gatherings held for himself, Takahiro, and their siblings. So he was actually kind of excited about it. 

However, he probably wouldn’t have accepted the invitation if not for the fact that literally everyone else on the team was going to be there. 

The previous summer, he hadn’t gone to Sakamoto’s party, because it didn’t feel like that big of a deal to skip it. That one had been smaller and much more low-key. And he would have actually hesitated to go to this party if Yuda and Takahiro weren’t planning to attend. But even if both of them weren’t going, it would have still looked bad for him to be one of the only people to decline, especially with how much Sakamoto had mentored him over the past year and a half. 

Issei was fully aware of how awkward it would have been to turn down the invitation a second year in a row, so it was a relief when Yuda confirmed that he was going. 

But overall, what it really came down to was Takahiro’s willingness to attend. Issei didn’t give Sakamoto an answer until discussing it with Takahiro, who, despite not seeming that thrilled about having been invited in the first place, said they might as well go and enjoy some free food. 

On the day of the party, Sakamoto asked Issei to come to his house early, so he showed up at around six in the evening, just an hour before sunset. He was told he would be helping get the backyard ready for guests. That’s where the party itself would be taking place for the first half of the night, since there was going to be a bonfire and outdoor music. 

“This place seems kinda fancy,” Takahiro remarked, walking up to the front door of the house, with Issei beside him. He hadn’t actually been asked to come early. But he and Issei were coming from the same neighborhood and going to the same party, so it made sense to show up together. At least, that’s what he had told Issei when he invited himself along. “I wonder how much needs to be set up.”

“Probably not too much,” Issei said as he rang the doorbell and looked around. Sakamoto’s house was way bigger than he thought it would be. 

In fact, it almost seemed like the inside would be spacious enough for all the expected guests to move around comfortably, assuming there would be less than fifty of them. But just between the two volleyball teams at school, there were around thirty-five people. And many more students than that had been invited.

Takahiro crossed his arms and leaned against the wall beside the front door. His face was flush from the heat of that humid July evening, there was sweat dripping down his forehead, and he looked grumpy, like he would rather be anywhere else. “I hope we don’t have to lift heavy stuff.”

“Sakamoto-san didn’t mention exactly what he needs help with,” Issei said, adjusting the backpack he was wearing. He and Takahiro each had one, and both of them were filled with their overnight stuff. “It’s probably just decorations or something.”

The front door opened after another few seconds, revealing their cheerful-looking captain. He was wearing a nice outfit, and his hair was all gelled up, combed in a way that was neater than he usually wore it.

Sakamoto smiled at Issei, but when his gaze shifted to Takahiro, his expression fell in a way that was subtle enough to be missed by anyone not focusing too hard on it. He quickly covered it up by speaking in a friendly tone. “Hey, thanks for coming early. I didn’t know you’d be bringing Hanamaki-kun . . . but that’s actually great, ‘cause things should go way faster.”

“More hands make for less work,” Issei said with a grin. He hadn’t noticed the momentary dismay on Sakamoto’s face.

However, Takahiro did notice, and he wasn’t going to pretend it didn’t happen. “What, were you hoping to get him by himself?”

A light blush dusted Sakamoto’s cheeks, though he chuckled nonchalantly and spoke in a calm tone. “No, not at all. I just thought he was the most likely person to help me. I know you don’t like doing more than you have to, Hanamaki-kun. That’s why I didn’t ask you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Takahiro asked, looking and sounding irritated. 

Issei didn’t like the tension that had suddenly sprang up between the other two boys. He thought they were past this kind of thing, since it hadn’t happened in a while. But there he was, once again trapped between them and their unexplainable disdain for each other, which left him feeling smothered and slightly anxious. 

“I just mean you’ve been slacking off during practice,” Sakamoto said, as if he was just casually sharing a simple fact. “I’m the captain, so of course I’ve noticed.”

That statement wasn’t necessary, nor was it entirely true. Even though Takahiro had been losing energy more easily over the past few months, he was still trying his best, and Issei knew that better than anyone. Takahiro had been having stomach pain every now and then ever since his grandmother passed away, and on the days he couldn’t eat enough, he just didn’t have the strength to power through a three hour practice.

“He’s been working just as hard as I have,” Issei said, his tone both firm and polite. He didn’t want to start a fight with someone on their birthday, but he couldn’t stop himself from coming to Takahiro’s defense. 

Sakamoto had been staring at Takahiro with slightly narrowed eyes and an obviously fake smile, but as soon as Issei said that, his focus shifted back to him. Then his smile became genuine and warm. “You’re right, Matsukawa-kun. Maybe I was thinking of someone else.”

“Are you gonna make us stand out here all day?” Takahiro asked sourly. His arms were still crossed, and he didn’t look happy about being there. But he also didn’t seem like he was willing to leave. That is, not without his best friend.

“Of course not,” Sakamoto said, looking at Issei only. “Please come in. I’ll show you the backyard, where we’ll be setting things up.”

“Pardon the intrusion,” Issei said, stepping inside and slipping off his shoes, which he picked up and carried into the house. 

Takahiro did the same, giving Sakamoto a sideways glare as he passed him. 

And then Sakamoto closed the front door behind them, dashing over to take the lead. He took them to the back door, but he paused and turned around before opening it. “Want a tour of the house first?”

“Sure,” Issei said as he glanced at Takahiro, who was sulking. He couldn’t say anything to cheer him up without Sakamoto overhearing, so after setting his shoes down near the back door, he silently reached over and squeezed Takahiro’s arm. That made Takahiro look at him. He used that opportunity to offer an encouraging smile, which was half-heartedly returned.

Sakamoto led them back through the house, starting the tour with the living room. It was closest to the hallway near the front door. “This is where we’ll watch some scary movies later tonight.”

There was a huge couch in the room, which would easily fit around fifteen people. There was also a big-screen television that took up most of the wall opposite from the couch. It seemed to Issei that Sakamoto’s family was very well off.

Next they passed through the dining room and went to the kitchen. There was lots of food set out on the island counter, ranging from prepackaged snacks to vegetable platters to freshly baked goods. It was an impressive spread. Even adults coming to a casual party wouldn’t find it lacking, since it was both tastefully arranged and full of variety. 

There were also a few coolers on the ground that had ice and dozens of bottled beverages inside, including tea, coffee, juice, and a wide selection of soft drinks. 

As young as Issei was, he knew enough about grocery shopping to understand how much money must have been spent on all those refreshments, and it left him speechless. His own parents didn’t exactly struggle when it came to finances, but they never would have willingly thrown so much money into a party. His father would have called it an excessive and unnecessary expenditure. 

When they were leaving the kitchen, Issei caught sight of Takahiro as he snatched a generously sized cream puff from a tray, shoving the whole thing in his mouth. It made his cheeks puff out like a chipmunk.

Issei stifled a laugh as he and Takahiro followed Sakamoto across another hallway.

“Wasn’t even that good,” Takahiro whispered a moment later, once he had gotten the cream puff down. Then he wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist to remove the powdered sugar. 

After that, Sakamoto showed them where the downstairs bathroom was, and then they followed him into another large room on the lower level of the house, where there were dozens of futons spread across the floor. 

Issei couldn’t help but wonder if Sakamoto’s family always had so many on hand, or if they had been purchased specifically for this occasion. Maybe there were lots of relatives that liked to come visit from far away. There had to be some explanation like that, because it seemed unlikely that anyone would have that many futons without a good reason, and to buy so many just for a birthday party seemed really unlikely—that is, unless Sakamoto’s family had piles and piles of extra cash to burn through.

“You can leave your bags in here,” Sakamoto said, putting his hands behind his back as he looked around the room, which was empty aside from the futons. Everything else must have been moved out to clear space. “This is where everyone’s gonna sleep. But if there’s not enough futons, I’ll just have someone sleep next to me.”

Right after Issei and Takahiro set their backpacks down near the door, Takahiro grabbed the back of Issei’s shirt, leaning in like he was going to whisper something in his ear. But he didn’t get the chance. 

“Come on,” Sakamoto said as he grabbed Issei’s wrist and led him out of the room, taking him upstairs, where there were some bedrooms, a second bathroom, and a study. 

Takahiro tagged along behind them with a sullen look on his face.

The upstairs rooms were full of luxurious things and nice furniture. The study would have been a dream come true for Yuko, since it was lined with all kinds of books. Mr. Matsukawa also would have liked it, because it had a huge desk made of solid wood, with many drawers for storage and organization. He liked keeping things neat while he was working.

Sakamoto’s bedroom was almost three times as big as Issei’s, and it had enough floor space for at least ten futons. Takahiro didn’t seem impressed with it, but Issei couldn’t help feeling amazed that one person could have so much space, let alone the collection of manga that were on Sakamoto’s bookshelves. They held everything Issei had ever read, some things he had been meaning to check out, and plenty of things he hadn’t even heard of. 

“If you want, I’ll let you borrow a few books,” Sakamoto offered, coming to stand beside Issei in front of the bookshelves. “There’s some good ones I think you’d like.”

“That would be cool,” Issei said, running his fingertips along the spines of one of his favorite series. He only owned half of them himself, but they were all there in Sakamoto’s collection.

“It smells musty in here,” Takahiro remarked from the doorway, since he hadn’t come all the way into the room. Based on his judgemental expression, one would think he was looking at a heap of garbage.

“Feel free to wait downstairs,” Sakamoto said, glancing over his shoulder at Takahiro with a devilish smirk. Then he put his hand on Issei’s lower back, guiding him towards one of the far bookshelves. “Here, Matsukawa-kun. I’ll show you the new one I just got. I bet you’ve never seen anything like it.”

All of a sudden, Takahiro marched into the room and went right over to the other two boys, using his arms to push them apart so that he could stand between them. “What’s so special about it?”

Issei had been busy scanning the titles on the shelf, so he didn’t catch the glare Sakamoto shot at Takahiro before replying to his question.

“It’s got some super interesting drawings.” Sakamoto reached for a book that was on the very top shelf, showing the cover first, where there was a shirtless man and a very scantily clad woman sharing a passionate kiss. 

Issei glanced at the book in Sakamoto’s hands, not feeling particularly interested in it based on the cover. He didn’t really like looking at that type of thing.

“This is the kind they sell wrapped in plastic,” Sakamoto said, as if that should mean something, though neither Takahiro nor Issei understood the implication. 

And then Sakamoto flipped the book open to a page that was marked with a small piece of paper, which revealed several panels of the couple having sex. Absolutely nothing was left to the imagination. 

Issei briefly studied the drawing, finding it somewhat off-putting. He had never seen adults fully naked before, aside from the times he had gone to the public bath, and he didn’t have any desire to see people doing such obscene things to each other. It made him uncomfortable.

It seemed like Takahiro felt the same way. He grimaced in disgust, but he didn’t look away, and he didn’t say anything. 

“This isn’t actually the one I wanted,” Sakamoto said, staring at the panels closely, like he was memorizing the details. “My friend got the titles mixed up.”

“Was the one you actually wanted . . . this kind of story?” Issei asked, looking at the panels once more before turning his attention back to the other books on the shelf.  

“Yeah, pretty much,” Sakamoto replied, closing the book and putting it away. “The one I wanted had a better couple though.”

“I thought you wanted help setting up your party,” Takahiro grumbled, leaning his arm on Issei’s shoulder, since he was still standing between him and Sakamoto. 

“We should probably get started on that,” Issei added, his tone much more polite than Takahiro’s had been. Speaking respectfully towards his elders and upperclassmen was one of the things his father had always harped on.

“You’re right, Matsukawa-kun,” Sakamoto said, walking away from the bookshelf. He led the other two boys out of his room, and then they went downstairs, heading for the back door. 

After slipping their shoes on, they all stepped out into the backyard, which was even bigger than Issei had been expecting. It definitely made sense to have the party out there. The spacious backyard was enclosed with a tall fence, and even though it was still particularly hot out, it would cool down enough to be tolerable once the sun went down.

“What we need to do is set all these up around the fire pit,” Sakamoto explained, gesturing to an area on the back porch that was filled with dozens of stacked chairs and at least ten wooden benches. “We usually keep these in storage. So they need to be wiped down first, just to get the dust off.”

Takahiro groaned quietly, and Issei understood exactly what he was thinking. They were going to be doing a bunch of lifting out in the heat. Of everything they could have been asked to do, that was the worst case scenario for Takahiro, who hated doing strenuous things when the weather was warm. He had also been especially prone to heat sickness lately, which only added to his distaste for outdoor activities during summertime. 

“Why don’t you work on wiping stuff down?” Issei suggested, turning towards Takahiro, who was standing behind him. “Me and Sakamoto-san can do the lifting.”

“That’s a good idea,” Sakamoto said, grabbing some towels from a stack near the back door. He handed a few of them to Takahiro, and then he looked at Issei with a slight grin. “While he’s wiping them down, let’s go get some wood for the fire pit. There’s some inside the shed over there.”

Sakamoto headed towards the shed right away, but Issei waited a moment so that he could say something to his best friend in private. 

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” Issei whispered as he began to turn away. “If you start feeling sick, go back inside and get something cold to drink.”

“I know,” Takahiro said in a low voice, grabbing Issei’s arm before he could leave. “Hey, if Sakamoto-san asks you to sleep in his bed tonight, don’t do it.”

“I’m sure that won’t happen,” Issei said as he curiously studied Takahiro’s face, wondering why he was so concerned about it. 

“Just promise you won’t ditch me to sleep with him,” Takahiro insisted, his eyes and expression serious.

“There’s no way I’d ever agree to sleep in his bed,” Issei promised. “And you know I’d never ditch you.” Then he turned to follow Sakamoto, who was almost at the shed on the far side of the yard. But he glanced back at Takahiro before walking away. “Remember, don’t push yourself.”

“Roger that,” Takahiro said, saluting with one hand. He sounded a little more cheerful than he had a moment earlier.

Issei left his best friend on the back porch and walked towards the shed, making it over there right as Sakamoto was coming out with an armful of wood. 

“How much do we need?” Issei asked, scooting past Sakamoto in the doorway. It wasn’t much cooler in the stuffy shed than it was outside, but it was out of the sun, which was better than nothing.

“Enough to keep the fire going for a few hours,” Sakamoto replied, pausing to watch Issei go into the shed. “Whatever we can bring over in two or three trips should be fine.”

“Alright,” Issei said, gathering some wood from a huge stack against the back wall of the shed. When he turned to carry it out, he saw that Sakamoto had waited for him, so they went towards the fire pit together. 

“You and Hanamaki-kun are always together, aren’t you?” Sakamoto asked in a voice that was a little too forced to be casual, though he calmly grinned at Issei as they walked side by side. 

“Usually,” Issei replied, looking towards the porch to check on Takahiro, who was slowly wiping down a bench. “We’ve been friends since we were babies.”

“Really?” Sakamoto sounded surprised, and his brow furrowed thoughtfully. “I didn’t know that.”

Issei shrugged, setting the wood in his arms down near the fire pit, which was right in front of them now. “It’s not like we’ve talked about it before.”

“I guess there’s a lot me and you don’t know about each other,” Sakamoto said, dropping his wood onto the pile. Once his hands were free, he gently punched Issei’s shoulder. “We should hang out more often—just the two of us. That way, I can get to know you better.”

At that point, Issei felt a twinge of discomfort, like he had overstepped Sakamoto’s hospitality by bringing Takahiro with him to help set things up. “Was I supposed to come by myself today?”

“That’s what I had in mind when I asked you to come early. But it’s okay.” Sakamoto started walking towards the shed again, briefly glancing at Issei as he went. Then he wiped his palms against the sides of his shorts. “I’m just glad to have extra hands around, especially when two of them are yours.”

Instead of feeling relieved that Sakamoto wasn’t upset, Issei felt another twinge of discomfort, though he couldn’t pinpoint the reason for it. He kind of wanted to go home all of a sudden. So when silence fell over them, it was awkward and unpleasant for him. They were already back at the shed by the time he finally thought of something to say. 

“Are you excited about the party?”

“Yeah,” Sakamoto replied, reaching for some wood and gathering it in his arms. “This is the first time my parents are letting me host one without them here. I’m fifteen now, and it’s my last year of middle school, so I guess they thought I’m responsible enough for it. That, and I think they wanted an excuse for a trip to their favorite beach resort.”

Issei hummed, grabbing several chunks of wood. It hadn’t occurred to him that the party wouldn’t have adult supervision. But then again, most of the people attending were between the ages of twelve and fifteen. They should be able to safely handle a bonfire by themselves. “So they won’t be here at all?”

“Yep,” Sakamoto said in a lighthearted tone. Then he spoke like he was saying something particularly amusing. “They said they trust me, but only as long as the girls go home before ten.”

Issei was holding as much as he could carry, so he walked towards the door of the shed, being careful to avoid getting a splinter from the wood. “This is the first time I’ve been invited to a party with girls.”

Girls that weren’t his or Takahiro’s sisters—they didn’t count. 

“Really?” Sakamoto followed Issei out of the shed, walking beside him. In his eyes and voice, there was curiosity, hesitance, and also a hint of nervousness, which was unusual for him. He was generally quite confident. “Is there a girl you like?”

“No,” Issei replied. There weren’t any girls at his school, or anywhere else, that had ever given him feelings he could describe as a crush. 

“What about boys?” Sakamoto asked, watching Issei closely now. “Is there one you like?”

That question was somewhat unexpected, but the answer was the same. 

“No,” Issei replied. “I don’t like anyone like that.”

There was a fleeting look of disappointment on Sakamoto’s face, though Issei didn’t catch it. He was too busy looking where he was going, and before he knew it, they were at the fire pit again. 

“But you’ve kissed someone before, haven’t you?” Sakamoto asked, staring at the wood pile as he added to it. His ears were red, and there was sweat on his brow from carrying stacks of wood around in the heat.

“I haven’t,” Issei replied, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment. He wondered if he should have kissed someone already at this point in his life. But as far as he knew, Takahiro hadn’t kissed anyone either, so it must not be that unusual. 

“Wow, I’m surprised,” Sakamoto said, brushing his hands together to rid them of dust and dirt. Then he met Issei’s gaze, giving a shy smile. “You seem like you’d have tons of admirers.”

“Not that I know of,” Issei replied as he awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, which brought Takahiro into his field of vision. His best friend was wiping off some of the wooden chairs, apparently having finished with the benches. “Should we start moving those now?”

Sakamoto shifted his gaze from Issei’s face to the wood pile, glancing at the chairs and benches afterwards. “Yeah. We’ve probably got enough wood here.”

The two of them walked towards the porch, where Takahiro was cleaning the chairs at a very slow pace. 

“Will you help me with this, Matsukawa-kun?” Sakamoto asked, reaching for one end of a bench.

Issei nodded. But before doing anything else, he took a moment to observe Takahiro as he worked. 

Takahiro’s cheeks were red from exertion, but he was also looking kind of pale. That was concerning. Ever since the start of summer, he had been getting lightheaded whenever he was in the heat for too long. There was even a time when he briefly passed out while they were playing volleyball at the park. 

“Do you need a drink?” Issei asked as he stared at his best friend.

Takahiro glanced at Issei and shook his head. Then he caught sight of Sakamoto, frowned at him, and went back to what he was doing. 

“Take a break if you need to,” Issei said, going over to pick up the other end of the bench. He and Sakamoto carried it towards the fire pit, leaving it far enough away from it that there would be room for a large circle of benches and chairs. 

“It seems like you’re worried about Hanamaki-kun,” Sakamoto remarked, studying Issei’s face after they set the bench down. “Is he sick or something?”

“No, he’s just been extra sensitive to the heat this summer. He gets dizzy sometimes,” Issei replied, heading towards the porch again. He definitely thought Takahiro needed to go in the house for a while to rest, so he planned on forcing him, if necessary.

“Let’s have him go inside then,” Sakamoto suggested. “Me and you can handle the rest out here.”

Issei was glad to hear that Sakamoto shared his opinion. And it was a relief to see him show concern over Takahiro, especially after all the times the two of them seemed to agitate each other for no good reason.

When they reached the porch, Issei went up to Takahiro and grabbed his wrist, taking the towel he had been using. “Break time.”

“I’m fine,” Takahiro said, an obvious lie. The pallor of his skin and glossiness in his eyes usually meant he was lightheaded. Not only that, he was almost certainly about to get a headache, if he didn’t already have one. 

“C’mon,” Issei said, dragging Takahiro towards the back door. “You need some water.”

“I said I’m fine,” Takahiro protested, though that didn’t stop Issei from bringing him into the house. He was pulled into the room with the futons, where he was forced to lie down. 

“I’ll get you some water,” Issei said, leaving the room and going to the kitchen. He filled a glass from the sink and brought it back to Takahiro, squatting down and offering it to him. “Here.”

“I don’t need to be babied,” Takahiro mumbled, though he didn’t seem like he was entirely against it. He drank the water down quickly and handed the empty cup back to Issei, who sat next to him. 

“It was scary when you passed out at the park last week,” Issei said, his voice sincere and full of concern. “Your dad said to be careful in the heat from now on.”

Takahiro sighed and put his arm over his eyes, like he often did when his head was hurting. “I just didn’t drink enough that day.” 

“You haven’t drank that much today either,” Issei pointed out. Then he stood up, turning to leave the room. “I’ll get you more water.”

And that’s what he did. He refilled the glass and grabbed a cold bottle of juice from one of the coolers in the kitchen, bringing them back to Takahiro afterwards. Then he left him to rest and went back outside to help. 

“Is he okay?” Sakamoto asked, putting the towel he had been dusting with down. It looked like he already finished cleaning off the last of the chairs. 

“Yeah, he just needs to stay out of the sun for now,” Issei replied. “Ready to move the rest of these benches?”

“Let’s do it,” Sakamoto said, smiling as he gave a determined nod. 

They carried the benches one by one, and then they moved on to setting up the chairs. When they were done, the fire pit was surrounded with lots of seating options, and right in the nick of time. People started showing up just a few minutes later, arriving in groups of two or three.

Then more people came.

And more, and more, and more.

Many more than Issei had expected. 

Both the boys’ and the girls’ volleyball teams were there. They were joined by a few other sports clubs, various third-year students, and around a dozen underclassmen Sakamoto happened to know, bringing the total number of guests to nearly one hundred.

As it turned out, Sakamoto was even more popular than he seemed.

Once the house started to get crowded, Issei went to check on Takahiro, who was feeling a lot better after taking some time to rest. So they stuck together until the fire pit was lit, which happened right at dusk. 

People were going back and forth between the house and the backyard, but it seemed like a majority of the guests chose to stay inside, waiting for the sun to fully go down. Sakamoto’s house had a really good air conditioning system, making it a lot more comfortable than the muggy heat that clung to anyone who went outside. 

But a little while after sunset, it got cooler in the backyard, and many of the guests migrated to the chairs and benches around the fire pit.

Sakamoto’s house was on a large enough plot of land that music could be played in the backyard without disturbing the neighbors too much. So the sound of Sakamoto’s playlist mixed with the voices of everyone around the fire pit, which crackled and gave off smoke. 

Overall, it was a busy and bustling evening, with enough conversations happening at once to exhaust even the most outgoing of people. That was the only way Issei could think to describe it.

After a few hours of socializing, he and Takahiro were sitting on the edge of the porch by themselves, since they didn’t want to be that close to the compact crowd surrounding the bonfire. They had a good view of everyone from there. 

“Is your head feeling better?” Issei asked, glancing at Takahiro, who had in fact been suffering from a headache earlier on.

“Yeah,” Takahiro replied, munching on chips from a bag that was sitting on his lap. There was a plate next to him that had been piled high with cream puffs, which he ate quickly, despite having said they weren’t that good. “Thanks for watching out for me.”

“Someone’s gotta do it,” Issei said with a grin, opening the tea he had gone to get just a few minutes earlier.  

Just then, Yuda stepped out onto the porch, spotting Issei and Takahiro after closing the back door. He hurried over and squatted down between them. “I got here thirty minutes ago, but I got caught talking to some people in the living room. Did I miss anything exciting?”

“Nah, it’s been pretty boring,” Takahiro replied, peering into his mostly empty bag of chips. Then he held it up and tilted it into his mouth to get the last little bits. 

“The fire’s gonna be going for another hour,” Issei added, glancing at Yuda as he set his drink down beside himself. “Do you wanna go throw sticks in it?”

Yuda caught sight of a girl with long hair, and she had captured his attention, so he didn’t reply. His eyes were glued to her, and his mouth was hanging open a little bit. 

“Uh-oh, I know what that look means,” Takahiro teased, poking at Yuda’s arm. “You gonna go talk to her?”

“Huh?” Yuda snapped out of his stupor, turning towards Takahiro with a fresh blush. “Did you say something?”

“He’s too far gone,” Takahiro said in a serious voice, leaning forward so that he could see past Yuda to address Issei, all while suppressing an amused smirk. “I’m afraid we can’t save him.”

Issei nodded sagely. “The best thing to do now is let him go.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Yuda asked, his cheeks still slightly pink as he glanced back and forth between his two friends. He was in a low squat, with Issei sitting on his right, and Takahiro sitting on his left.

“Your love life,” Takahiro replied, subtly pointing his nose at the long-haired girl. “Are you gonna go talk to her by yourself, or do you need us to be your wingmen?”

“Talk to her?” Yuda looked over at the girl again, and his blush immediately deepened. All of his normally endless enthusiasm was replaced with bashfulness. “No way, dude. I can’t.”

“It’s not like you to be so shy,” Issei remarked as he gently scratched between Yuda’s shoulders over and over again, trying to soothe him. 

“Yeah, you just need to chill out and be yourself,” Takahiro said, ruffling Yuda’s already-messy hair. Then he started massaging Yuda’s scalp with his fingertips. “All you gotta do is walk over there and say some words. That’s not so hard, is it?”

Yuda didn’t resist the physical contact from his friends. Instead, he melted deeper into his squat and got a look on his face that was similar to a dog getting belly rubs. His grin was wide, his eyes were closed, and he seemed much more relaxed after getting all that attention. “I dunno, guys. It might creep her out if I go talk to her out of nowhere.”

“Listen, I’m only gonna say this ‘cause I respect you and want the best for you,” Takahiro said as he ruffled Yuda’s hair one last time. Then he looked him dead in the eye and wagged a finger at him. “Don’t be a pussy.”

“You don’t know what’s gonna happen until you try,” Issei chimed in, lightly scratching Yuda’s back a few more times before leaving him alone.

“Yeah.” Takahiro sat up a little taller. “As my grandma always used to say, it’s better to be a brave failure than a cowardly bitch.”

Issei snorted. “She never said that.”

“She did, actually—more or less.” Takahiro shrugged. “I was paraphrasing to make it more suitable for the situation.”

“You guys really think I should go talk to her?” Yuda asked, his eyes finally starting to light up with his usual enthusiasm.

“Yep,” Takahiro said. “Do it.”

“Do it,” Issei echoed. 

“Do it,” Takahiro repeated.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” Yuda decided, standing up and clapping his hands together. Then he hopped down from the porch and slowly started walking towards the girl with long hair, though he paused to look back at his friends.

“Atta boy,” Takahiro said, giving two thumbs-up. “You’ve got this.”

“Good luck,” Issei added, also giving two thumbs-up. 

They watched Yuda gather his courage and start walking again. He made his way over to the long-haired girl, introducing himself to her. Based on her genuine smile, his presence was welcome, and they struck up a conversation.

“Look at our little guy,” Takahiro said, wiping a fake tear from his eye. “He’s growing up so fast.”

Issei nodded in agreement. “This must be what it feels like to send your kid off to school for the first time.”

All of a sudden, Sakamoto came over to them in a hurry, smiling like he was excited about something. He was slightly out of breath from running. And as usual, he stared at Issei as he spoke, ignoring Takahiro’s presence. “Hey, a few of us are about to play a game. Wanna join in?”

“What kind of game?” Takahiro asked dryly, not sounding interested in whatever it would be, though he was almost certainly willing to participate if Issei went along with it. 

“Not sure. The girls said it’s a surprise,” Sakamoto replied, keeping his eyes on Issei without giving Takahiro proper acknowledgement. “But whatever it is, I’m sure it’ll be better if you’re there, Matsukawa-kun.”

“Well, I guess we could check it out,” Issei said, hesitantly getting to his feet. He had a weird feeling about this.

Takahiro was obviously aware that Sakamoto didn’t want him to come. Because of that, he stood up and put his hands behind his head, speaking in a very sarcastic tone. “Thanks for the invite, captain. I’m sure it’ll be a blast.”

Sakamoto finally glanced over at Takahiro, his expression going flat for just a moment. But he shifted his gaze back to Issei right after, grinning at him as he reached for his wrist, pulling him along. “Let’s go.”

As if he couldn’t stand the thought of Sakamoto leading Issei around by the wrist again, Takahiro was quick to grab Issei’s other one, and they formed a human chain as they navigated through all the partygoers shuffling around between the back door and the stairs. 

After that, they went up to Sakamoto’s bedroom. There were already some other people sitting around on the floor. Issei counted five girls and five guys, and he didn’t know any of them—not by name or face. They were upperclassmen, all of whom would be graduating from middle school with Sakamoto in the spring. 

“I found him,” Sakamoto announced, joining his friends on the ground, where they were sitting in a large circle. There was a strange energy among them, with subtle glances, knowing smiles, and suppressed giggles. 

Issei sat next to Sakamoto, looking over his shoulder at Takahiro once he was settled in. 

Takahiro was lingering in the doorway as he warily scanned the faces of those in the room. But when he noticed Issei looking at him, he smirked lazily and sat beside him, putting on an air of confidence.

“So, what game are we playing?” Sakamoto asked, directing the question to a girl that was across the circle from him. There was something off about his voice. It was stiff and forced, like he was nervous or uncomfortable, though he didn’t look that way at all. He was basically vibrating with excitement. 

The girl across the circle pulled an empty bottle out of her purse, shaking it and winking at him. “Take a guess.”

Sakamoto didn’t look surprised. On the contrary, he seemed quite pleased, and he patted Issei’s knee as he spoke. “I should’ve known! Well, who goes first?”

“The birthday boy, of course,” said another one of the girls, smiling deviously.

A few of the others murmured in agreement.

The first girl nodded, putting the bottle in the middle of the circle. Then she gave Sakamoto a meaningful stare. “Spin it, birthday boy.”

“Guess I have to,” Sakamoto said with a shrug, though based on how excited he looked, it seemed like that’s exactly what he wanted. He reached over and spun the bottle, watching it until it stopped. 

The excitement on Sakamoto’s face faded away completely when he saw where the bottle was pointing. Takahiro was the one he had to kiss, and the two of them seemed to be in agreement that this was the most unfortunate twist fate had ever delt. 

But the rules were clear. 

So after a moment of hesitation and poorly hidden dismay, Sakamoto leaned past Issei and gave Takahiro a peck on the lips that was so quick, they hardly even touched each other. Then he pulled back and returned to his spot, sitting a little closer to Issei than he had been.

Meanwhile, Takahiro immediately wiped his mouth on his shirt, which made one of the girls snort with laughter. 

“You’re next,” Sakamoto said, nudging Issei’s arm. “We’ll go in this direction.”

Issei really wasn’t looking forward to the prospect of kissing anyone. But he didn’t feel like he could back out of it now, so he reached forward and spun the bottle. It landed on one of the girls across from him. 

She giggled as she crawled halfway across the circle, waiting for Issei to come the rest of the way. 

With the intention of getting it over with as fast as possible, Issei moved forward, leaning in to bring his and the girl’s lips together. He didn’t like the feeling of it. And he liked it even less when the girl grabbed the back of his head, holding him in place as she slid her tongue into his mouth. He pressed his lips shut, forcing her to stop. Then he freed himself from her grasp and pulled away. 

She was blushing when she returned to her seat, smiling like the experience was a good one for her. 

But for Issei, it wasn’t good at all. Something about kissing that girl made him want to gag, and when he wiped his mouth on the collar of his shirt, the girl frowned at him, appearing insulted. 

It was Takahiro’s turn next, and he didn’t look like he wanted to do it any more than Issei had. But peer pressure was hard to ignore. So he quietly sighed, leaning forward to spin the bottle. He glared at it until it stopped, pointing towards a boy across the circle. His lips were set in a firm line when he crawled across the circle to give the stiffest, shortest kiss in the history of kisses, and he wiped his mouth off once he was seated again. 

“My turn,” said the girl who was sitting beside Takahiro, her eagerness apparent in her voice and body language. She spun the bottle, which led to her kissing the same girl Issei had kissed. 

Several more turns were taken before Issei had to kiss anyone else. Then the bottle pointed at him when one of the boys across the circle spun it, so he braced himself and crawled over to kiss him, ending it quickly. It wasn’t as bad as when he kissed the girl, only because the boy didn’t use his tongue. 

Issei wasn’t thrilled with the experience of his first or second kiss. It felt gross and intrusive to him, and he wanted to be done playing. But he was having a hard time coming up with an excuse to leave the room. 

Sakamoto’s turn came again, and when he spun the bottle, he hardly even let go of it, making it seem like he made it point towards Issei on purpose. If anyone else thought that, they didn’t bother speaking up about it. 

Resigning himself to his unpleasant task, Issei turned towards Sakamoto, who was grinning at him like it was the best night ever. Then he leaned in, wanting to hurry up and be done with it. Right before their lips met, he felt a tug on the back of his shirt, where Takahiro began holding onto him. That distracted him enough that he forgot to keep his lips pressed together, and so once again, he had to deal with a tongue slipping into his mouth. 

Sakamoto made the kiss last much longer than necessary. Just like the first girl had, he put one hand on the back of Issei’s head to hold it in place, and he put his other on Issei’s knee, slowly moving it higher.

It was all Issei could do to keep himself from biting Sakamoto’s tongue, and not in a way that was meant to be playful. He wanted to shove him away. But he felt paralized, and the most he managed to do was grab Sakamoto’s hand, stopping him from feeling up his thigh. That action was misunderstood, because Sakamoto interlaced their fingers.

Takahiro was still gripping the back of Issei’s shirt, and the longer the kiss went on, the more he pulled, as if he wanted to drag Issei out of the room. 

Finally, Sakamoto stopped kissing Issei, and most of the people in the circle started giggling or murmuring excitedly. A few even clapped, and one of the boys let out a wolf-whistle. 

“Wow, that was steamy,” said one of the girls. “Way to go, Sakamoto-kun!”

At that point, Takahiro let go of Issei’s shirt, standing up and turning to leave the room. “I’m gonna go get something to drink.”

Issei thought Takahiro’s voice sounded weird, so he automatically got to his feet and followed him, speaking without looking back. “I’m thirsty too.”

Suddenly, Sakamoto reached for Issei’s wrist, holding onto it until Issei looked at him. When that happened, he smiled and spoke in a warm voice. “Will you get me a bottle of green tea?”

“Sure,” Issei said as calmly as he could, finding it hard to meet Sakamoto’s gaze.

When he was released from Sakamoto’s grip a moment later, he left the room, thinking he didn’t actually want to come back. Then he hurried down the stairs, trying to catch up with his best friend.

Takahiro wasn’t in plain view. There were a lot of people crowded throughout the lower level of the house, making it hard to see. 

It was loud down there, both from music and voices, and Issei wasn’t in the mood to deal with all of that. He was feeling rather irritable as he slowly weaved his way towards the kitchen. But when he made it to where the drinks were, Takahiro wasn’t there.

Issei glanced at the back door, wondering if Takahiro went outside. 

However, something told him to check the bathroom first, so that’s where he decided to go. He turned down the hallway and went to the end of it. The bathroom door was closed, and he knocked a few times, hearing a familiar—and quite grumpy—voice reply from the other side. 

“Be done in a minute.”

There was no mistaking the sound of his best friend’s voice, but Issei called his name just to be sure. “Takahiro?” 

The door opened, and a hand reached for Issei’s shirt, pulling him inside. 

Takahiro closed and locked the door after that. Then he turned towards the sink, leaning over it to get water in his mouth. He rinsed it several times. 

“Good idea,” Issei said. His body was still prickling with discomfort, and even though washing his mouth out might not fix that, he still felt compelled to do it. “Let me have a turn when you’re done.”

After one more rinse, Takahiro stepped aside, letting Issei use the sink. Then he spoke in a scornful way. “The last girl I kissed put her tongue in my mouth.”

“Yeah, she did that to me too,” Issei said, rinsing his mouth out before and after he spoke. “It was gross.”

“I wanna go home,” Takahiro muttered, crossing his arms and leaning against the door of the bathroom. 

“Me too.” Issei washed his mouth out once more, turning off the sink afterwards. “What time is it?”

Takahiro pulled his flip phone out. “Almost eleven.”

“The trains are still running,” Issei said, feeling relieved. Their neighborhood was a long way from Sakamoto’s house, and walking there would take more than two hours. So that would be their last resort. “If we hurry, we can make it to the station before the last one leaves.”

“We gotta get our bags first,” Takahiro pointed out as he pocketed his phone.

Issei dried his mouth on the back of his wrist and nodded. “Let’s be quick about it.”

The two of them left the bathroom and made their way to the room with the futons, where there was a couple making out in the corner. They ignored them and retrieved their backpacks. Then they got their shoes and slipped out the front door, not bothering to tell anybody that they were leaving. 

Even though Issei knew it was impolite to leave without informing the host, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He just really didn’t want to be there any longer. And after they made it a few blocks away, he sent Yuda a text, letting him know that he and Takahiro were going home. He was vague about the reason.

As they made their way towards the train station, they stayed quiet for a long time. Both of them were lost in thought. It was much cooler outside now that it was dark, and they stayed close to each other on the sidewalk, their paces perfectly matched.

When the silence between them was finally broken, Issei started at the sound of Takahiro’s voice. 

“Sakamoto’s a creep,” Takahiro said with vengeful conviction. “He purposely made the bottle land on you.”

“I’m glad you noticed,” Issei mumbled, getting a sour feeling in his stomach. “No one else seemed to.”

“Oh, I’m sure they all noticed,” Takahiro scoffed. “They just didn’t care, and I think Sakamoto set everything up like that on purpose.”

“You mean that spin, or the whole game?”

“The whole game,” Takahiro replied, angrily shoving his hands in his pockets. “He acted like he didn’t know what they wanted to play, but I think he actually knew all along. Everyone seemed like they were in on it.”

Issei frowned and hugged his arms against himself. “Why would he lie about that?” 

“Because he wanted to kiss you, obviously,” Takahiro declared in a bitter tone, turning to spit at the sidewalk. “And he didn’t want you to have a choice in the matter.”

The amount of resentment and hostility in Takahiro’s voice surprised Issei, though he also felt kind of relieved by it, as if it validated his own discomfort. “I don’t wanna kiss anyone ever again.”

“Me neither,” Takahiro said, visibly shuddering with revulsion. “That made me wanna puke.”

Issei grimaced. “Yeah, me too. I seriously thought I was gonna hurl when that first girl started kissing me.”

“Really?” Takahiro glanced at Issei, who was currently walking under a street light. “Just with her, or for all of them?”

“All of them,” Issei replied. “What about you?”

“They were all gross,” Takahiro said, scrubbing at his mouth like he had just been kissed again. “But that last one was worst, with the tongue.”

Issei sighed wearily. “Yeah, I really didn’t like that.”

After letting out an irritated huff, Takahiro linked his and Issei’s arms, pulling him along. “The sooner we get home, the sooner we can brush our teeth and take really hot showers.”

“Are we going to your place, or mine?” Issei asked, feeling a little calmer now that his best friend was holding onto him. There was no reason to clarify whether or not they would be staying together for the rest of the night. 

“Let’s go to my house,” Takahiro replied. “I need the comfort of my own bed.”

“Alright,” Issei said with a nod. He felt just as at home at Takahiro’s house as he did his own, so it didn’t matter to him where they went.  

The walk to the train station passed quickly. But the ride itself was long, and by the time they got to Takahiro’s house, Issei was dead tired. The events from earlier had completely worn him out. It was also right around midnight, which was much later than he usually stayed up.  

When they made it to the blue front door of the Hanamaki house, Takahiro unlocked it, letting himself and Issei inside. They were trying to be quiet so they didn’t disturb anyone. 

But to their surprise, Takahiro’s parents were still awake, watching something together in the living room.

Misumi paused the movie and turned on a lamp. Then she looked over at the entryway, where the two boys were standing like deer caught in a headlight. “Didn’t you say you were sleeping over at a friend’s house?”

“We didn’t wanna sleep there,” Takahiro said, speaking nonchalantly as he slipped off his shoes. “It was gross.”

“Gross how?” Mr. Hanamaki asked, his eyebrows furrowing with concern. 

“We played spin the bottle, and I had to kiss, like, four people,” Takahiro replied, adding a gag at the end for emphasis. He didn’t usually hide stuff from his parents, because they were both easygoing about most things.

“Oh. How awful,” Mr. Hanamaki said, trying to sound more serious than amused, though not quite succeeding. He seemed to think Takahiro was only acting grossed out for dramatic effect.

“My poor baby,” Misumi added, apparently thinking the same thing as her husband. There was dry humor echoing in her words. “What about you, Issei? Did you have to kiss people?”

“Yeah,” Issei muttered, staring down at his feet as he fiddled with the strap of his backpack.

“Would you like to come sit with us?” Mr. Hanamaki was studying the two boys from where he was sitting on the couch, with his wife curled up against him. He finally seemed to pick up on how genuinely unhappy Issei and Takahiro were about their experience at the party. “We could talk about what happened.”

“I don’t feel like talking about it right now,” Takahiro said, heading towards the stairs. “But just so you know, I’m scarred for life. Hope you can afford to pay for my therapy.”

“I’m sure we’ll find the money,” Misumi said, sounding like she was only half joking. “Goodnight, boys.”

“Goodnight,” they said at the same time. 

Then they trudged upstairs and took turns in the bathroom, using the hottest water they could stand when they were showering. They also brushed their teeth multiple times. 

After that, they went to Takahiro’s room, turning on the air conditioner before getting into bed. But it was too warm for them to get comfortable. The wall unit wasn’t doing a very good job at cooling the room down, and since it wasn’t as hot outside anymore, they decided to open the windows.   

“Think it’s gonna be super awkward when we go back to school in a couple weeks?” Issei asked, needing to voice the concern that had been growing in the back of his mind. 

“It might be,” Takahiro replied as he came back over to the bed, having just finished opening both of the windows to let fresh air circulate through the room. “Maybe we should text Creepymoto in the morning and come up with an excuse for leaving.”

“Oh, you know what? I already texted Yuda and told him we weren’t feeling good,” Issei recalled, glancing at his phone, which was on the nightstand. It was turned off, like it had been since right after he sent Yuda a message. That was intentional—he was worried that Sakamoto might call to ask where he went. 

“In that case, let’s just say we both started puking and had to bail. That’s basically how it all went down anyway,” Takahiro said, ending his sentence with a yawn as he rolled onto his side and closed his eyes. Then he scooted down, pressed his forehead against Issei’s shoulder, and wrapped an arm around him, though it was too warm in the room to do that for more than a few minutes. “Since you already texted Yuda about not feeling good, he can vouch for us.”

Issei smiled over being hugged by his best friend. It made the loud concerns in his mind shut up, at least for the most part. But there was one more thought he needed to voice before he could settle down for the night. 

“I think I’d like to avoid Sakamoto-san from now on . . . Ah, wait . . . I guess that’s not really possible, since we’re on the same team and everything,” Issei mumbled, feeling Takahiro hug him a little tighter, as if to comfort him after that realization. “I just don’t wanna be alone with him.”

“You don’t have to worry about that.” Takahiro hadn’t opened his eyes, and his forehead was still pressed against Issei’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure you’re never alone with him again.”

Those words were spoken with so much confidence that Issei couldn’t help but to wholeheartedly believe them. He knew Takahiro was always looking out for him, and even though that promise would be difficult to keep, he had no doubt that his best friend was going to go above and beyond to make it happen. 

Chapter Text

Age 14

The excuse of being sick was believed, and after summer break ended, Issei was careful to keep more distance between himself and his captain. Limiting phone conversations was the beginning of that process. Without being too obvious about it, he texted back with shorter and shorter replies, though he still got at least a few texts a week.

And while he remained polite in person, he didn’t say more than necessary when he had to interact with Sakamoto at practice. 

He did everything he could to block whatever it was that Sakamoto might have wanted them to be. 

Thankfully, Takahiro made that easier by keeping his promise. He was always there to intervene when Sakamoto tried to catch Issei alone, and he never failed to redirect the conversation if Sakamoto tried to bring up the night of the party. His hidden talent of knowing exactly how to annoy people came in more handy than ever. It only took him five minutes at most to make Sakamoto leave him and his best friend alone at the end of practice each day, and even though his increasingly uncivil attitude towards Sakamoto lost him some respect from various teammates, it was a small price to pay for Issei’s comfort. 

After that, the second year of middle school passed quickly. 

Days blended together as Issei and Takahiro worked hard to increase their skills, and when the start of their third year of middle school arrived, they both got to be starters. Yuda became a starter as well.

Much to Issei’s surprise, he was elected captain of the team, which made his father very proud. They even went out to dinner in order to celebrate. It was the first time in several years that they hung out together one-on-one for an entire evening, and he cherished every moment. 

Unfortunately, Takahiro didn’t get to be Issei’s vice. That title went to Yuda, partially because he was more popular than Takahiro among their teammates, though it was also because Takahiro was still having stomach pain that messed with how much he could eat. His energy levels suffered from that, causing him to struggle enough during practice that he almost didn’t get a starting position.

And the lightheadedness that began during the previous summer hadn’t entirely gone away when the weather cooled down. He still dealt with it from time to time. But he didn’t let anyone, aside from Issei, know about that. He had no intention of being benched over it. 

If the captain and vice titles had gone to anyone other than Issei and Yuda, then Takahiro might have been bitter about not getting to be either. But he was happy for his two friends. They had his full support, and he did what he could to help them with their newfound responsibilities. 

Issei had hit another growth spurt right after his birthday, making him the tallest person on the team. He was still a little taller than Takahiro, and between the two of them, he was a bit more bulky when it came to muscles. 

Takahiro remained quite thin due to his inconsistent appetite. But he was stronger than he looked, and he had an incredible amount of determination. He could spike the ball with more force than anyone else on their team. Even though he didn’t make captain or vice, he did get to be the ace. It was well deserved. His teammates, including the ones who thought less of him due to his blatant disrespectful attitude towards their former captain, knew they could trust him with the ball when they were in a tight spot.

On the day they would be playing their first game as starters, Issei and Takahiro’s families came to watch them, filling the front row of their team’s cheering section. Rei, Asami, and Kazuki, all of whom were eight years old now, had homemade signs with words of encouragement written on them. Etsu, who had just started her third year of high school, was sitting with the adults as she texted her friends. 

Right before the game started, Issei was full of nervous excitement. He would be playing as a starter for the first time, acting as captain in an official game for the first time, and showing off his skills in front of his family for the first time. His father had left a note before leaving for work that morning to wish him luck, and he really wanted to make him proud. 

But more than anything, Issei was glad that he and Takahiro both earned starting spots. They had been working hard for it over the past two years, so it would have been really devastating to move forward without his best friend. They started the journey together, at the same level, and he wanted it to stay that way. It was their thing—the thing that had made him more confident in himself, the thing that had helped Takahiro get over his tendency to quit when the going got tough, the thing that they had so fervently dedicated themselves to, the thing that was fun and challenging and exhausting all at once. 

And if he didn’t have his best friend on the court with him, volleyball wouldn’t hold quite as much appeal. 

However, he had definitely learned to love the game for its own merits. Being exhausted at the end of each day was worth it. The sore muscles didn’t bother him, because it meant he was getting stronger. Messing up and having to practice more was no big deal. He could see the progress he was making, even when he faced setbacks. 

There was nothing as satisfying as fully blocking a spike, or forcing the spiker to hit the ball right where he wanted it, or watching the frustration of his opponent when he kept them from getting through time and time again. Those experiences had only been in practice games so far, mostly against his teammates, though there had been several opportunities to practice with other schools the previous year. 

Issei was expecting all of that to be even more thrilling during a real game. He had been meticulously working on his blocks during the entire second year of middle school, and he was eager to finally put his skills to use in a game where it would officially count.

The time for that had finally come. 

“You ready for this?” Takahiro asked, glancing at Issei as they stepped out onto the court. 

“Yeah,” Issei replied, his calm demeanor hiding the swirling mix of anticipation and nervousness that was brewing inside of him. “Are you?”

Takahiro smirked lazily and cracked his knuckles. “I was born ready.”

Ahead of them, Yuda was already on the court, looking at the audience to find his girlfriend so that he could wave at her. He had started dating the long-haired girl from Sakamoto’s party—an accomplishment that Takahiro took credit for, having been the one to push Yuda into that chance encounter. 

Issei and Takahiro watched Yuda enthusiastically wave towards the audience, exchanging amused glances afterwards. Then they both searched for their families in the stands, quickly catching sight of their younger siblings thanks to the signs they were holding. And they also spotted Takahiro’s father, who was holding up his camcorder, pointing it right at them. He gave them a thumbs-up once he noticed them looking his way. 

“He’s probably gonna make us watch that with him later,” Takahiro remarked as he turned towards where the rest of the team was gathered.

“That’s not a bad idea. It’ll be easier to see where we need to improve if we watch ourselves play,” Issei replied, joining his teammates on the court. Then he led them through some warm-ups.

When they were done with that, their coach got everyone gathered up for a quick huddle. 

“We’ve got a team of brand new starters this year, but you’ve all been practicing hard,” said their coach, looking at each of them in turn. “Put what you’ve learned to good use, remember to follow your instincts, and never let yourselves get discouraged. The game isn’t over until the last point is won.”

“Yes, coach,” they all said in unison.

After that, Issei cleared his throat to address his team. “I know we’re all ready to get out there and do our best. We’ve got some good plays, and we’ve run through them so many times we could probably do them in our sleep.”

His teammates chuckled at that, but he kept a straight face, continuing to speak in a serious manner. “Now tell me . . . what do we want?”

“To win,” everyone said, their voices overlapping, some loud and some soft. 

Issei raised an eyebrow. “I can’t hear you.”

This time, the whole team shouted together in perfect synchrony. “TO WIN!”

“That’s more like it.” Issei put his hand out in the middle of the huddle. Everyone else copied him, starting with Takahiro and Yuda, and when he spoke again, they all threw their hands up. “Let’s get out there and win this!”

“Aye aye, captain,” Takahiro said with a grin, elbowing Issei’s ribs as the huddle broke up.

After that, they all lined up on the edge of the court to bow to the other team. Then they got to their starting positions, and their team was serving first. Or rather, Issei was serving for the first time in an official game, which was both exciting and terrifying. He wished he could do a jump serve, like Sakamoto had (quite insistently) tried to teach him the previous year. But he knew he wasn’t able to pull that off yet.

So instead, he did a normal serve, sending the ball across the length of the court. 

It was received by the other side, and that was the start of the game. 

One point taken, one lost, and so the game went. It didn’t take long for Issei to forget the crowd and focus only on what was happening on the court. Every time Takahiro got a spike through, pride over how his best friend was playing welled up in his chest.  And whenever he managed to block the ball, he was proud of himself, seeing that same feeling in Takahiro’s eyes when they sought each other out, their gazes briefly locking no matter where they were standing. 

Issei was also proud of Yuda each time he scored a point for their team. Whenever that happened, Yuda would look towards the audience, receiving a smile and an encouraging nod from his girlfriend. 

Thanks to their effort and coordination, Issei’s team took the first set, having been ahead by almost ten points. But the second was won by the other team, and the third was a fierce battle. 

Issei was tired, and sore, and having trouble sustaining his focus. Although he wasn’t concerned about himself. He knew he could push through and finish strong, even if it felt impossible. But when it came to Takahiro, who hadn’t been able to eat much that day due to a stomach ache, he couldn’t stop himself from feeling worried.

Sooner or later, Takahiro was going to run out of steam. He also might get lightheaded. That was happening more and more often, usually when practice ran extra long. 

Right before the end of their last time-out, Issei decided to check in with Takahiro, speaking in a low voice so that he wouldn’t be overheard. “You good?”

Takahiro looked at Issei, smiling in a tired way. “Yeah. You?”

Issei nodded. 

The two of them did their special handshake, and after that, they got back on the court and poured everything they had into the last ten minutes of the game. 

When the score was 24-23 in their favor, Takahiro served the ball, sending it over with less strength than he probably intended. He was looking especially pale, and it seemed like he didn’t have much fight left in him. It was crucial that a deuce be avoided so the game didn’t get dragged out. 

The other team received the ball easily, and then they got it set up for a spike, aiming for the side where Issei was blocking by himself. But little did they know, that’s exactly what Issei wanted. He wasn’t planning on a total block out. He just wanted to force the spiker to hit the ball past his left shoulder, where their libero was waiting. 

Things went exactly how Issei wanted them to go.

The ball went directly to the libero. He received it and sent it to their setter, who had to make a split-second decision. Yuda and Takahiro were both making an approach. Choosing the wrong wing spiker would lose their team a point and land them in a deuce, which couldn’t be allowed to happen. 

Issei wasn’t the only one who had noticed Takahiro’s dwindling energy. Based on that information, the setter sent the ball to Yuda.

But there were suddenly three blockers in the way, and when Yuda tried to break through, he was shut down. The ball was headed for the ground behind him, and things were looking grim. 

However, thanks to their libero’s quick movements, the ball went back up. Their team had a second chance, and this time, the setter seemed less sure about where to send the ball. 

“Give it to me!” Takahiro shouted, making his approach. His assertive tone made it clear that he wasn’t messing around. 

The setter acted on instinct and sent the ball to him.

As exhausted as Takahiro looked, he managed to pull more energy out of thin air, jumping high and spiking the ball with all his might. It broke past the opposite team’s blockers and landed just inside the lines. The point was theirs, and so was the game. 

Cheers erupted from the audience as Issei’s team huddled together, patting each other’s backs and shouting with joy. They were all speaking at the same time due to their excitement.  

Just a few moments after landing his final spike, Takahiro crashed into Issei, hugging him and clinging to the back of his jersey.

Issei returned the embrace with just as much enthusiasm. It was their first time playing as starters, in their first real game together, and they had won. 

The feeling bubbling up in Issei’s chest as he and Takahiro clung to each other was indescribable. He wanted to laugh, and cry, and scream, and fall to the ground from sheer exhaustion. But instead of doing any of those things, he just held onto Takahiro, with the sound of cheers from the audience and their teammates ringing in his ears. 

“I feel like I’m gonna pass out,” Takahiro whispered, barely speaking loud enough for Issei to hear. 

“Oh shit,” Issei said, his mood immediately growing serious. He turned so that he was standing beside Takahiro, facing the same direction as him. Then he wrapped an arm around Takahiro’s waist. “Let’s get you to the bench.”

“Thanks,” Takahiro breathed, putting an arm over Issei’s shoulders to hold himself up. His dizzy spells mostly happened when he was overheated, when he hadn’t been able to eat, or when he had physically exerted himself too much. He met at least two of those circumstances at the current moment.

Considering how much of a struggle volleyball was for Takahiro these days, it was even more impressive to Issei that he was still sticking with it. He had given up on other sports for reasons that were much less difficult to overcome. 

Once he was finished helping Takahiro to the bench, Issei heard their younger sisters shouting from the stands, so he grinned at them right as Takahiro held up a peace sign. Then he went back onto the court and bowed to the audience with the rest of his teammates. After getting a drink, Takahiro got up and joined them in lining up to bow to the other team, shaking hands with them and moving off the court once they were done. 

That was their only game for the day, but they would have another one tomorrow. If they won again, there would be another game, and another, and another. They had to keep winning to stay on the court.

“That last block you did was amazing,” Takahiro said, throwing an arm over Issei’s shoulders as they headed to where they had left their bags. 

The rest of their team was with them, and they would all be doing some stretches to cool down. 

“Your spike won the game for us,” Issei pointed out, squeezing Takahiro’s waist. He could tell that Takahiro was still lightheaded, so he kept a firm hold on him. “I was impressed. You seemed super tired there at the end, but you really went for it.”

“Both of you did great today,” Yuda said as he clapped Issei’s back, ruffling Takahiro’s hair afterwards. He was in a good mood, and as usual, he extended his genuine enthusiasm to everyone on the team by complimenting each of them. Then he let out a loud whoop. “We did it, guys!”

They were all filled with happiness, though they were also completely drained. So it grew quiet as everyone stretched, spread out across a small area of a side room, which was connected to the hallway leading to the volleyball court. 

“Be honest with me,” Issei said, lying down on the floor next to Takahiro so they could stretch their backs. “Did you feel like you were gonna pass out at any point during the game, aside from there at the end?”

“Nah, I just got a little lightheaded a few times,” Takahiro said, twisting his hips as he stretched. “It wasn’t too bad.”

Issei watched Takahiro while the two of them finished that stretch. Then he sat up, reaching forward to touch his toes. “As long as you give me some warning, I’ll catch you, so let me know if it’s getting bad.”

“Thanks,” Takahiro said, stretching his arms and legs out like a starfish. “And thanks for not telling anyone about this.”

Issei didn’t like hiding the fact that Takahiro was having dizzy spells from their coach, their team, and their families. But he understood why his best friend didn’t want to say anything about it. 

Takahiro was afraid he wouldn’t be allowed to play volleyball anymore if he told the adults in his life about feeling lightheaded sometimes, and he used the same reasoning to avoid mentioning the stomach pain that had been coming and going since his grandmother passed away. Getting replaced as a starter would be the worst thing ever, because for the first time in his life, he found a sport he loved. 

And for that reason, Issei was willing to keep Takahiro’s secret, though it went against his better judgment. “I still think we should talk to your dad about it.”

“I’ll talk to him about it if it’s still happening when we graduate,” Takahiro said, finally moving into a different stretch by pulling one knee up to his chest. “I bet I’ll be fine by then.”

Issei stopped reaching for his toes and put his feet together to do a butterfly stretch. While he did that, he looked down at his best friend. “Can you promise me one thing?” 

“Maybe,” Takahiro replied, giving an impish grin as he put his leg down, pulling his other knee up to his chest. “Depends what it is.”

“If things get worse, you have to tell me right away,” Issei said, his tone and expression more firm than he intended, though it came from a place of genuine concern.

“I will,” Takahiro promised. 

Hearing that eased Issei’s mind, so he was quiet as they finished their stretches.

The silence was broken by the sound of Yuda calling out to his girlfriend, who was shyly lurking just beyond where the team was stretching. “Hey, you can come over here!”

Ume Suzuki was a very short girl, to the point that she made Yuda look tall in comparison when they stood next to each other. Overall, they made a cute couple, even with all of their obvious contrasts. He was outgoing and loud. She was reserved and soft-spoken. His hair was light brown and messy, hers was black and always carefully combed. 

Yuda got to his feet once Suzuki had made her way over to him. He looked like he wanted to hug her, but given her hesitant and bashful temperament, that wouldn’t be appreciated in public. And he was respectful of that. “Thanks for coming to watch me play, Ume-chan! It means a lot!”

“I wouldn’t miss it.” Suzuki smiled at Yuda, which made her dark brown eyes light up. “You did very well, Kaneo-kun.”

“Aw, they’re on a first name basis now,” Takahiro whispered to Issei, seeming pleased with the development that was happening with his friend’s relationship. He was still lying flat on the ground, though he was no longer stretching. 

“Seems about right. They’ve been dating for more than six months,” Issei whispered in response, leaning close to Takahiro to avoid being heard by the others. Then he sat up straight and politely addressed Yuda’s girlfriend, since they were familiar with each other. “Hey, Suzuki-chan.”

“Matsukawa-kun,” Suzuki said as she nodded at Issei in greeting. Then she looked at Takahiro and gave another nod. “Hanamaki-kun. Congratulations on your win.”

“Thanks,” Takahiro replied, putting his hands behind his head and crossing his ankles. “We couldn’t have done it without your boyfriend. I mean, he’s basically the backbone of our entire team. The best vice captain a guy could ask for. And more than that, he’s such a loyal person.”

“You don’t have to gas me up,” Yuda said, his cheeks turning pink from all that praise. “She already likes me.”

“I’m being serious,” Takahiro insisted. Then he looked at Suzuki and spoke in his most sincere voice. “Don’t let this one get away, Suzuki-chan. He’s a real catch.”

“I know,” Suzuki said, sounding just as sincere, though she blushed deeply after saying that. 

And then there was Yuda, who got even more red than he had already been. After a moment of bashfully rubbing the back of his neck, he nodded towards the front of the building, leaning down to pull his wallet out of his sports bag at the same time. “Want a drink, Ume-chan? I’ll get you something from the vending machine.”

“Yes, I’d like that,” Suzuki replied, folding her hands behind her back. 

After watching those two talk away, Issei stood up and rolled his shoulders. “I’ve gotta take a leak.”

“Kay,” Takahiro said as he continued to relax on the floor, putting a small towel over his eyes and forehead. It was likely that he had a headache. Those had been happening as often as the dizzy spells, and pain relievers didn’t always help. 

On his way to the restroom, Issei caught sight of someone he thought he wouldn’t have to deal with anymore.

And he had already been spotted.

So he had to greet him, just to avoid the awkwardness of running in the opposite direction.

“I didn’t know you were here, Sakamoto-san.”

“Of course I am, Matsukawa-kun. Don’t you remember me saying I’d come watch you play your first game as a starter?” Sakamoto was beaming with pride. “I’ve gotta say, it felt pretty good watching you do so well at all those things we worked on together. That last block was really impressive.”

Issei smiled, though it was forced. As much as he hated to admit it, Sakamoto did help him learn quite a few things, even with how much he tried to avoid him towards the end of their time as teammates.

“Thanks for helping me with my blocks last year.”

“It was my pleasure. You always learned faster than the others,” Sakamoto said, his eyes soft as he met Issei’s gaze. “You’re smart and motivated, and that makes you a valuable asset to any team . . . I really hope you’ll come to my school next year.”

“I’m not sure where I’ll be going,” Issei remarked as he glanced away.

He and Takahiro had been considering a few different high schools. They hadn’t been able to settle on one yet, but they would certainly not be going to the same one as their old captain.

“It’s never too early to start thinking about it,” Sakamoto said, reaching to fiddle with his watch. “When you’re a first year, I’ll be a second year, and I’m hoping to have some influence by then. I’ll do what I can to make sure you get a starting spot.”

Issei was suddenly reminded of all the times Sakamoto had been overly friendly with him after that night they kissed, always acting like they were closer than they were, and often trying to corner him into a private conversation. Those memories turned his stomach, making him uncomfortable.

“That won’t be necessary. If I’m gonna be a starter, I wanna earn it myself.”

“Ah, that’s what I thought you’d say.” Sakamoto sighed, briefly looking down with reddened cheeks. Then he hesitantly took a step forward, which brought him and Issei closer to each other, and he stared at him with a warm smile. “You’re such a respectable guy.”

“Thanks,” Issei replied, taking a step back.

A quick glance to his left and right revealed that there was no one else in the hallway with them. So he looked back at Sakamoto, wondering if he should embarrass himself by sprinting away.

“I’d like to tell you something,” Sakamoto said, taking another step forward. He seemed nervous. “I wanted to tell you last year, but it was so hard to get you alone. And I didn’t wanna do it over text.”

Issei’s feelings of discomfort grew stronger, and he stepped back again, though he found himself against a wall.

“The thing is . . . I really like you,” Sakamoto admitted, still fidgeting with his watch. “I know this is sudden, but would you go out with me?”

That was more or less what Issei had been expecting, but he wasn’t sure how to respond in a way that preserved their dignity. No one had ever confessed to him before. The only thing he felt certain of was that he would never like Sakamoto in that way.

That, and he desperately wanted out of this situation. 

“I’m . . . uh . . . I don’t . . .”

“Take some time to think about it,” Sakamoto quickly suggested. “You don’t have to decide right now.”

Issei wanted to double down and give a clear rejection, but the sound of his best friend’s voice distracted him.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t our old bastard of a captain,” Takahiro said, sliding up next to Issei and putting an arm over his shoulders. The look he gave Sakamoto was a mix of disgust and disdain, and his smirk was filled with venom, like a silent threat. “Should’ve known I’d find you chatting it up with my bestie.”

Sakamoto shifted, immediately taking two steps back. Then he put on the fake smile he always wore whenever he had to deal with Takahiro’s persistent interference. His words were just as insincere, dripping with hidden irritation and frustration.

“I saw that last spike of yours. Good job, Hanamaki-kun.”

“Gee, thanks,” Takahiro said, narrowing his eyes. “How nice of you to come support all your former teammates.”

“It was a great game. I’m sure you guys wanna get back to the others, so I’ll get going,” Sakamoto said, putting his hands in his pockets as he turned to leave. But he looked back at Issei before walking away, making eye contact with him. “I’ll text you tonight so we can talk more.”

“Alright,” Issei mumbled, not really wanting to deal with that.

He watched Sakamoto disappear around the corner, and then he glanced at Takahiro, who still had an arm around his shoulders.

Now that his best friend was with him, the awkwardness and discomfort he had been feeling melted away.

“I’ve gotta pee super bad right now.”

“As I suspected,” Takahiro said, reaching for Issei’s elbow and pulling him towards the public restrooms. “I had a feeling you were being held up, so I came to rescue you.”

“Wow, you’re my hero,” Issei teased. “My bladder owes you its life.”

Takahiro grinned as he and Issei went into the restroom. “Bros don’t let bros piss themselves in random hallways.”

A few minutes later, they went back over to the rest of their team. They had to listen to their coach say a few words, but once that was over, they grabbed their sports bags and went to find their families. 

Their siblings and parents were all standing near the entrance of the gym. As soon as the two boys came into view, Asami ran over to them, slowly followed by the rest of the group. 

“You did super good!” Asami shouted, bouncing up and down. She was as energetic as ever. And for once, her tangly shoulder-length hair was neatly pulled into low pigtails, likely having been done at Rei’s insistence, since the two of them had matching hairstyles.

Issei reached out to pat the top of Asami’s head, doing the same to Kazuki, who was beside her. “I’m glad you guys came to watch me.”

Kazuki silently gave Issei two thumbs-up. It was rather loud and busy where they were all standing, and he looked like he was having a hard time with that. His jaw was clenched, his body was really tense, and his eyes kept darting around the room.

In an attempt to help, Issei pulled Kazuki into a hug and held him in such a way that one of his ears was pressed against his stomach, while the other was covered by his arm. That would help block out some of the noise and movement. 

It seemed like Kazuki appreciated that. He wrapped his arms around Issei’s waist, relaxing against him.

At that point, Issei looked around for his father. But his mother got to him before he finished scanning the faces of the group that was now surrounding him.

“You did really well,” Yuko said, squeezing Issei’s arm. Then she sighed, sounding slightly irritated. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but your dad couldn’t make it.”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Issei had been expecting that, though it still hurt. For years, his father had broken promise after promise about spending time together and showing up to school events. The celebration dinner for making captain had been a rare exception. But now, he had to deal with being let down once again. 

However, it wasn’t enough to take away his happiness over winning, so he brushed his disappointment aside and shrugged at his mother, giving her a reassuring grin.

“I watched the whole time,” Rei said, tugging at Takahiro’s jersey.

She was much shorter than him, and she was also quite a bit shorter than the twins, despite being the same age. They were tall and scrawny, whereas she was short and chubby. She still had a face full of freckles, just like her mother, and her dark brown hair had lightened a little bit, looking just like her father’s, complete with a stubborn cowlick that not even her pigtails could contain.

“You scored the last point, didn’t you?”

“That’s right,” Takahiro confirmed, squaring his shoulders and putting his hands on his hips. “You’ve got a cool big brother, don’t you?”

“Debatable,” Etsu said, staring at him with a flat expression. But then it melted away into very subtle worry as she crossed her arms. “What was with you there at the end? It seemed like Issei had to help you to the bench.”

“I noticed that too,” Mr. Hanamaki added. He had all the handmade signs from earlier tucked under one arm, and as he spoke, he bent over to look at Takahiro’s ankles. “Did you sprain something?”

Takahiro playfully showed that his ankles were just fine by holding them up one at a time, turning them so that his father could see them better. Then he shrugged, replying in a nonchalant manner, though he and Issei briefly shared a meaningful glance. “Nah, I was just tired. You know I hate exercise.”

“Yeah, that became obvious when you joined a sports club,” Etsu deadpanned, adding an eye roll for emphasis. 

“What can I say . . . I’m an extremely complex guy,” Takahiro retorted. “And you’re the one who’s always bitching at me about how I should commit to stuff more often.” 

“Hey, watch your language,” Misumi said, reaching to pinch Takahiro’s nose, giving it a wiggle. Then she smiled at him. “You did well today, mister. I’m proud of you. We have to celebrate properly now, don’t we? What do you think about having a nice dinner with everyone?”

“Will there be dessert?” Takahiro asked, flashing a cheeky grin once his nose was released. 

“Of course. I already got your favorite from the bakery this morning, to be used for either comfort or celebration, depending on the outcome of the game,” Misumi replied with a playful twinkle in her eyes. After that, she looked at Issei, patting his shoulder. “We’ll have your favorite for dinner.”

“Awesome,” Issei said, still hugging Kazuki as he looked from person to person. He was glad they were all there to show their support.

But even though that meant a lot to him, he still wished his father was there. His only consolation was that Mr. Hanamaki had recorded the game, so at the very least, his father could watch it later on. 

There was a meeting to attend back at school, so Issei and Takahiro said goodbye to their families and went over to their teammates, leaving with them shortly after that. 

When they were done at school, Issei and Takahiro walked home together, though Issei stopped at his house to shower and get fresh clothes on. No one else was there—his father was at work, and the rest of his family was already at Takahiro’s house. Once he was ready, he went there as well, letting himself in without knocking.  

The adults were in the kitchen, and everyone else was in the living room. It was crowded enough that Issei didn’t have a seat, so he was going to sit on the floor in front of the couch, which would have been fine.

However, Takahiro stood up and stepped aside, gesturing to his spot on the couch. “You can sit here.”

“Thanks,” Issei said, sitting down without any further prompting. The couch was much better than the floor, after all.

Takahiro grinned, moving to sit on Issei’s lap, facing away from him and relaxing against his chest. “It’s more comfy this way.”

“Saw that coming,” Etsu said, staring at Issei and Takahiro from the armchair across the room. She had a wide band in her chin-length hair, pulling it away from her face. That made it easier to see her taunting smile and raised eyebrow. “He’s like a stupid little lapdog.”

“Bark bark,” Takahiro said in a deep voice, throwing a decorative pillow at his older sister. 

Etsu caught the pillow without much effort, calmly putting it behind herself. But she narrowed her eyes at Takahiro afterwards.

“Ah, sorry.” Issei flashed a mischievous smirk. “My dog doesn’t like you.”

On one side of Issei, Kazuki was sitting without adding to the conversation, which was relatively normal for him in a group this large. He did better with one-on-one interactions. But he did look like he was enjoying himself by observing those around him, and he seemed to find it particularly amusing when Takahiro pretended to bark. 

Issei glanced at his little brother, gently nudging his arm. “Would you rather be a cat or a dog?”

Kazuki shook his head, though he was still smiling. 

“Neither?” Issei asked. 

Kazuki nodded. 

“Just a person, then?”

Kazuki shook his head again and put his hands together, making them flap like wings. “A bird.”

“That’s a good choice,” Issei said with a nod of approval. Then he pinched Takahiro’s cheeks with both hands, though he couldn’t quite see what he was doing. “Besides, we only need one spoiled lapdog around here.”

“Who’s spoiled?” Takahiro asked, grabbing Issei’s hands to stop him from messing with his face. “Surely not me.”

“You’re as spoiled as they come,” Misumi said, having just walked into the room. 

“As my mom, you should probably do something about that,” Takahiro quipped, grinning at her. Then he tried to get more comfortable on Issei’s lap. “Hey, sit up taller so I can lean my head back on your shoulder.”

“Somehow, I feel like I’ve been reduced to a piece of furniture” Issei remarked as he went along with Takahiro’s request, doing what he could to make himself a better place to sit.

“More like a rug, ‘cause you let him walk all over you,” Etsu said, looking at Issei with an almost sympathetic expression, though it came across as pompous. She had her elbows on the armrests of her chair, her legs were crossed, and she was still leaning back against the pillow that had been thrown at her. One would think she was sitting on a throne by the way she held herself. “You don’t always have to do what he says, you know.”

“You’re one to talk, bossy-pants. I’ve heard how you order your friends around,” Takahiro retorted, his tone sharp and irritable. But after a moment, he leaned his body to one side and turned his head, attempting to get a look at Issei’s face. “Do you feel like I walk all over you?”

“No,” Issei replied, wrapping his arms around Takahiro’s waist to reassure him. He didn’t feel like his best friend ever took advantage of his kindness. 

In fact, Issei had always appreciated how candid Takahiro could be when it came to his wants and needs. It was never necessary to guess what he was thinking, because more often than not, he would just say whatever was on his mind. That kind of openness made their friendship feel authentic and irreplaceable.

Mr. Hanamaki walked into the room just then. He was wearing a bright yellow apron, there was a hairnet on his head that didn’t keep his cowlick from popping up through the little holes in the netting, and he had a spatula in one hand. “About three more minutes on the cheese-filled hamburger steaks.”

“Oh, perfect,” Misumi said, turning to go back into the kitchen. “I’ll get the salad ready.”

“I already cut up most of the toppings,” said Yuko, who was standing at the long counter that separated the kitchen and dining room.

Meanwhile, Mr. Hanamaki went back over to the stove, humming a happy tune as he went. It was hard to say whether he found more joy in cooking or photography, which were his two favorite hobbies.

The doorbell rang all of a sudden, and when no one else acknowledged it, Etsu got up to answer the door. 

Mr. Matsukawa was standing on the other side. “Good evening,” he said, stepping inside and slipping off his shoes. He was wearing a suit, as if he had come right from the office. “Where’s my starting player?”

Issei hadn’t realized his father would be joining them for dinner. He had mixed feelings about that. He was still upset that he didn’t show up to watch him play, and part of him wanted to be bitter about it. But he couldn’t bring himself to give his father the silent treatment. 

“We won our game.”

“That’s great!” Mr. Matsukawa sounded sincere as he walked into the living room, but when he saw the way Takahiro was sitting on Issei’s lap, his smile faded and his eyes flashed with something that made Issei’s stomach twist into knots. 

However, the look was gone almost as soon as it had the chance to make an appearance. Without saying anything else, Mr. Matsukawa moved into the kitchen to greet the adults, pressing a kiss to Yuko’s temple as he passed her. 

“You good?” Takahiro whispered, obviously trying to be inconspicuous. 

“Yeah, why?” Issei asked in a quiet voice.

“You’re squeezing me kinda hard,” Takahiro replied. “Thought you might be stressed out.”

“Nah, I’m fine. Sorry for squeezing you,” Issei said, relaxing his hold on Takahiro’s waist. He didn’t want to draw attention to the fact that his father made him nervous sometimes.

But then he realized that Kazuki had grabbed his arm, so he looked at him, and he was sure that his little brother had also seen the strange flash in their father’s eyes. 

Kazuki stared at Issei for a few seconds. There was such a weathered and wary expression on his face, as if he had lived a hundred lifetimes, all of which he could remember, and all of which had shown him the harshest truths of humanity.

Then he let go of his older brother, turning his attention towards the loud laughter of Rei, who was sitting right beside him. 

Issei glanced at Asami, just to check if she had noticed their father’s brief show of animosity.

But she was busy talking to Rei on the far side of the couch, where they were both still having a fit of laughter over whatever joke Rei had made. The two of them were totally lost in their own little world.

And then Mr. Hanamaki came into the living room again, letting everyone know dinner was ready. 

The whole rest of that evening, Issei felt as though his father was shooting him elusive glances filled with something he couldn’t quite understand. But whatever it was, he didn’t like the way it felt. And worse than that, his father’s sharp gaze fell on Takahiro now and then, and he didn’t want his father looking at his best friend like that.

Kazuki was the only other person who seemed to be aware of Mr. Matsukawa’s strange mood, as made evident by the way he watched him cautiously, saying nothing throughout the entire meal. He had never spoken out loud in front of his father, and it seemed very much like he never would. His words were saved for his mother, his siblings, and the Hanamaki family, all of whom he was comfortable around. He still didn’t speak at school, he rarely spoke in public, and ever since he learned how to write, that was the way he communicated when his voice wasn’t available.

At the end of the night, when Issei was brushing his teeth in Takahiro’s bathroom before bed, he kept wondering about what had been bothering his father. But it wasn’t a topic he would ever bring up, and there were two reasons for that: he was fairly certain he wouldn’t like knowing the truth behind it, and he didn’t want to make whatever it was into an issue. It was likely that it would be forgotten about if he gave it a day or two.

There was also the possibility that his father was in a bad mood about something related to work, and after much internal debate, that’s what Issei chose to believe. That helped relieve the stress he had been feeling.

However, as he was coming out of the bathroom, Issei suddenly remembered Sakamoto’s confession, which stressed him out all over again. He hadn’t checked his phone at all since much earlier in the day, and there was a strong likelihood that he had a text waiting for him. 

So he sighed reluctantly as he shuffled to Takahiro’s bedroom. He had left his phone on the desk, and as much as he was dreading it, he went over to check his messages. But his phone was no longer there when he went to look for it.

“Have you seen my phone?” Issei asked, glancing over at where Takahiro was lounging in bed.

“It’s on the nightstand,” Takahiro replied, not looking up from the game he was playing on his phone. “It started beeping ‘cause the battery was low, so I plugged it in for you.”

“Thanks,” Issei said, going over to flip his phone open. There were no text notifications, so he closed it with a deep sense of relief. He really hadn’t felt like dealing with that conversation. 

To make sure his sleep wouldn’t be disrupted by a late-night text, he put his phone on silent and left it on the nightstand, climbing into bed afterwards. Then he watched Takahiro play Pac-Man until they were both too tired to stay up any longer.

Over the next few weeks, Issei waited for that dreaded text from his former captain. But it never came. And by the time summer break arrived, he had forgotten all about it. 

After attending a short training camp with their teammates, Issei and Takahiro were invited to a festival. And since Yuda insisted that they all wear yukata, the two boys were in the process of trying some on with Mr. Hanamaki, who was letting them go through his closet. There were nearly half a dozen yukata for them to choose from. 

Mr. Hanamaki was sitting on his bed, watching Takahiro turn around in front of the tall mirror hanging on the door of the walk-in closet. “That looks nice on you.”

“I like the striped one better,” Takahiro decided. He took off the dark gray yukata, handing it to Issei. “You should wear this one.”

Issei slipped out of the blue yukata he had been wearing, trading it for the one Takahiro suggested. Once he had it on, he looked at himself in the mirror, grinning slightly. “I like this one.”

Meanwhile, Takahiro put on a black yukata, which had thin white stripes running up and down it. He stood next to Issei so that they could both see themselves in the mirror. “Yep, we look good.”

“I’m glad you boys are making use of these,” Mr. Hanamaki said as he got up to put away the other three yukatas that had been tried on. “My mom made them all by hand when I was a teenager. Oh, let’s take some photos so I can send them to her.”

The doorbell rang just then. 

“That’s probably Yuda and Suzuki-chan,” Takahiro said, grabbing the obi that needed to be wrapped around his waist. He held it towards his father. “Will you help me with this?”

“I need help with mine too,” Issei said, having just tied off his koshihimo, which was a sash that went under the obi to keep the yukata from unwrapping in the front. 

“Let’s see here,” Mr. Hanamaki mumbled as he worked to wrap the first obi around Takahiro’s waist, getting it on securely and turning it so that the knot was in the back. Then he helped Issei with the other obi, finishing the task in a quick and skillful manner. “All done.”

There was a knock at the door, and then Misumi stepped into the room. Her long auburn hair was in a high bun, as she often wore it during the summer, keeping it off her neck and away from her face.

She smiled when she saw Issei and Takahiro dressed in their yukata. “Your friends are waiting downstairs.”

“They can be in the photos with you boys,” Mr. Hanamaki said, hurrying to get his camera from where it was sitting on his nightstand. After that, he dashed out of the room. 

Misumi chuckled and looked at her son. “He loves stuff like this, you know. Make sure you let him take lots of pictures before you leave.”

“He’ll make sure of that himself. I bet he’s waiting for us at the bottom of the stairs,” Takahiro predicted as he and Issei left the room. 

And of course, Mr. Hanamaki was doing just that, kneeling at the bottom of the stairs as he waited for the boys to come down. He snapped several shots as soon as they came into view. Then he took pictures of them with their friends, and once he had around twenty from inside the house, he had them go into the backyard so he could take some on the patio. The lighting out there was perfect.

Yuda and Suzuki didn’t seem to mind Mr. Hanamaki’s impromptu photo shoot. Neither did Issei and Takahiro, both of whom were used to this kind of thing. The walls of the Hanamaki house were lined with countless prints of the photographs taken by Mr. Hanamaki, including not only his own children, but Issei and his siblings as well, since they all spent so much time together. 

Nearly thirty minutes later, Issei and his friends were finally on their way to the festival. They had to walk across town, but Suzuki’s yukata was tighter around the legs than the ones the boys were wearing, and it made it hard for her to move quickly. So they stuck to a very slow pace. 

It was rather early in the evening. The sun was still out in full force, making the humid heat of August that much less tolerable to walk around in.

As usual, Takahiro was the one who hated it the most, and he wasn’t afraid to say so. 

“Damn this weather,” he grumbled, fanning himself with the paper fan his father had let him borrow. It was black with a white dragon, matching his striped yukata.

The only other things he had brought with him were his wallet and phone, which were in Suzuki’s bag, along with the phones and wallets of the other two boys.

Issei glanced at Takahiro, who was looking flushed and pale at the same time. He had actually been looking pale in general lately, which was probably a result of his strict avoidance of being outside unless absolutely necessary. His skin tone was also just on the lighter side, whereas Issei was naturally tan, getting darker in the summer months. 

However, Takahiro definitely got paler when exerting himself in the heat, and that was cause for concern. He hadn’t had another fainting spell since that one time at the park the previous year, but Issei was still worried that it might happen again, especially when they were walking around so much outside. 

“Look, you can see the edge of the festival from here!” Yuda exclaimed with excitement. He was wearing a dark green yukata, which was almost the same color as the one Suzuki had on, though hers was lighter, with colorful flowers and decorative patterns.

Suzuki glanced at Issei and Takahiro, studying them both for a moment. Her black hair was pulled back into a loose, low bun that was accentuated by pearl pins and flowers, and her bangs were left down to frame her face. “Should we get water first?”

Issei nodded. 

Even though Yuda and Suzuki didn’t know about Takahiro’s dizzy spells, they did know that he was sensitive to the heat. So they were sure to help watch out for Takahiro’s well-being by keeping him hydrated. 

They only had to walk for a few more minutes before they reached the festival, which took up several streets and a large open area, with many decorations strung about. There were also dozens of stands selling all kinds of things, and they went right over to one that had bottled water. 

“Can I have my wallet?” Issei asked as he smacked at a bug that had just landed on his neck. 

“Sure,” Suzuki replied, digging around in her kinchaku, which was a drawstring bag that was the same color as her yukata, with similar decorations. She didn’t pull Issei’s wallet out until her second try, since all three of the boys had similarly sized and shaped wallets. 

Once he had his wallet, Issei started walking towards the stand, where he purchased four bottles of water. He passed them out to his friends, drinking from the last one. 

“The fireworks don’t start for a few more hours,” Yuda remarked, wiping some sweat from his brow. “Should we play games, get something to eat, or just walk around for a bit?”

“I’m getting hungry,” Issei replied as he adjusted the sleeves of his yukata. He hadn’t worn one since he was a small child. “Let’s find a fried noodle stall.”

“Oh, that sounds really good,” Yuda said, reaching for Suzuki’s hand and leading everyone down the street. Both of them were more comfortable with little displays of affection now, and they kept glancing at each other as they walked.

Issei and Takahiro followed along behind their friends, grinning as they watched the subtle flirting that was going on. 

And then Takahiro opened his fan, holding it in front of his face so he could whisper to Issei more discreetly. “We made that happen, y’know. He never would’ve talked to her if we didn’t give him a little push in the right direction.”

“It’s our greatest accomplishment,” Issei whispered back, his voice playful, but also full of pride. He liked thinking that he and Takahiro played a part in Yuda finding someone special.

Takahiro nodded and started fanning himself, doing so in a way that also gave Issei a bit of wind on his face. 

They found a yakisoba stand after walking around for a few minutes, and they each got themselves a serving of the delicious fried noodles, complete with strips of cabbage, pork, bonito flakes, pickled ginger, and powdered seaweed. The portions were generous and the quality was amazing, so they were all full to the brim and completely satisfied when they set out in search of games to play. 

Yuda pointed at a stall that had goldfish swimming around in a long container of water. “Hey, should we try to catch some?”

Issei shook his head. “I don’t wanna deal with taking care of one after.” 

“Remember when you killed that one you got when we were seven?” Takahiro asked as he stared at the goldfish.

“Of course I do,” Issei replied with a slight frown. “I accidentally overfed it.”

“I did the same thing,” Suzuki admitted, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. It sounded like she still felt particularly heartbroken about her experience. “My parents let me bury it in the backyard, and we had a little ceremony for it.”

“Aw, really?” Yuda was staring at Suzuki with a soft expression. “How old were you?”

Suzuki smiled sadly. “Nine.”

“Hey, there’s a ring toss game over there,” Takahiro said, nodding towards a stall that was further up the street. “Bet I can win the best prize they’ve got.”

“What are we betting?” Yuda asked, his eyes lighting up competitively, though he was half focused on gently rubbing the back of Suzuki’s hand in order to comfort her. 

“Bragging rights,” Takahiro replied. He was already heading towards the ring toss stand, and Issei was beside him, so the other two hurried to follow. 

They let Suzuki go first, and she didn’t win anything. Neither did Issei, who went next. The real battle was between Yuda and Takahiro, but in the end, neither of them won a prize.

“Games like that are rigged,” Takahiro said, indignantly fanning himself as he walked away from the ring toss stand. 

“That one did seem harder than usual,” Issei remarked. The sun was finally starting to set, and he was grateful for that. It meant the heat would start to subside soon. 

They walked around for another hour and played various games, though they didn’t win many prizes. However, Issei did earn a box of pocky by shooting it with a cork. He wasn’t in the mood for it, so he gave it to Takahiro, who was always up for sweets.

Not long after that, Yuda bought a white fox mask, which he tied onto his head in such a way that it was almost like a hat. He bought a similar one for Suzuki, who asked Issei to take a picture of them with her phone so she could set it as her background.

When they got bored of playing games and walking around, they decided to get a bit more food, settling on some chicken skewers followed by shaved ice. They finished that before going over to where the fireworks show was going to be held. There was a huge field of grass located at the edge of the festival, and that’s where they needed to be if they wanted the best view of the sky.

The field was crowded, so they stayed on the outer edge of it, near a fence that wasn’t very tall. It barely went up to Issei’s stomach. But it was wide enough to make for a comfortable seat, and they all parked themselves on it.

Yuda and Suzuki were chatting about something silly and flirty, which made Issei feel like it was best to leave them be. So he turned his attention to Takahiro, whose lips were pressed into a thin line as he fanned himself, with his eyes narrowed, his jaw clenched, and his free hand balled up into a fist. 

“You okay?” Issei asked as he stared at his best friend. 

Takahiro silently kept fanning himself. His gaze was locked at something in the distance, though it didn’t seem like he was looking at anything in particular.

“Hey,” Issei said, nudging Takahiro’s arm. “What’s wrong?”

As if he was reluctant to respond, Takahiro glanced at Issei, speaking in a low voice. “My stomach hurts.”

“Ah, I’m sorry.” Issei wondered if the festival food had been a bit too much for Takahiro’s increasingly sensitive stomach. “Wanna go home?”

“No,” Takahiro replied, though the discomfort he was feeling came through in his voice. Then he suddenly got down from the fence and started walking away at a quick pace. “Be right back.”

Issei watched Takahiro for almost twenty seconds. But then he decided he should go with him, just in case he was sick enough to have a fit of dizziness.

So he scooted off the fence, speaking over his shoulder as he went to follow his best friend. “Hey, we’ll be right back.”

“Alright,” Yuda said, briefly looking in Issei’s direction. Then he turned his attention back to Suzuki, scooting closer to her.  

Issei made his way through the crowd, following Takahiro as best he could, though he kept losing track of him. Luckily, there were many street lights in the area, and Takahiro’s pinkish-brown hair stood out against the many black-haired people surrounding him, helping Issei find him again. He was barely close enough to catch sight of Takahiro hurrying into a small store, which was near the end of the street that led to the field. 

Once he made it there himself, he went inside and looked around, not seeing Takahiro anywhere. 

But he had a pretty good guess about where his best friend was headed. So he went to the back of the store, where there was a small restroom—the kind with just one toilet inside. He leaned on the wall just beside the door and waited there. 

About fifteen minutes later, Takahiro came out of the restroom.

“Feeling better?” Issei asked, startling his best friend by being there unexpectedly. 

“Geez, you came outta nowhere,” Takahiro said as he adjusted the collar of his striped yukata. “And yeah, I feel better. Puked my guts out though.”

Issei hummed. “Think you’ve got a stomach bug, or is it the usual stuff?”

“Usual stuff. Must’ve eaten too much or something,” Takahiro muttered grumpily. Then he started walking towards the front of the store, straightening out his sleeves as he went. “I hate not being able to eat properly.”

“Maybe it’s time to tell your dad about it,” Issei suggested, falling in step beside his best friend. There was an old lady ahead of them in the aisle, and they both dodged around her with a polite nod.  

“Yeah, maybe,” Takahiro said, letting out a long sigh afterwards. “I just don’t want him fussing over me.”

“It might be something that’s really easy to fix,” Issei pointed out, though he was secretly worried that it was something insidious. After a little over a year of random stomach pains, he couldn’t help feeling that way.

“It won’t hurt to wait a bit longer.” Takahiro opened the door that led outside, letting Issei go first. Then he followed him out and started fanning himself. “I mean, if you think about it, it’s not really that big a deal.”

Issei raised an eyebrow and spoke in a dry voice. “Your stomach hurts so bad that you have to skip meals on a regular basis, and you even throw up sometimes. That’s not a big deal?”

“Not really,” Takahiro repeated, still fanning himself with his paper fan. He began weaving through the crowd of people outside, many of whom were heading towards the huge field, where Yuda and Suzuki were waiting. 

As much as Issei wanted to press the issue further, he didn’t want to create tension between himself and Takahiro, because that might lead to a fight. They hardly ever fought anymore. Although they didn’t actually do so very often when they were younger, aside from the usual things that little kids tended to lose their temper over, leading to an occasional argument that was sorted out within a few hours. 

Issei didn’t like it when anyone, especially his best friend, was mad at him. And he couldn’t just take matters into his own hands—not after he promised to keep Takahiro’s symptoms to himself. So he dropped the subject for the time being and quietly made his way through the crowd. 

The two of them got back to the field a few minutes later, walking over to the fence they had left their friends on. 

In the dim glow of a nearby street light, Yuda was sitting as close to Suzuki as possible, with an arm wrapped around her. She was resting her head against him. They looked perfectly content as they sat there together, and because they had yukata on, it would have made a really nice picture. 

To avoid disrupting the special moment between their friends, Issei and Takahiro sat on the fence again without saying anything. They also left a little distance between themselves and the happy couple. 

Not long after that, music started to play over some speakers that were set up around the field, and fireworks suddenly lit up the sky. It was a beautiful show. There were huge flashes of blue, bright bursts of green, quick glimmers of purple, and magnificent explosions of every other color imaginable.

Issei watched in silent appreciation, sitting there on the fence beside Takahiro, who was fanning them both. This was his last summer of middle school, and he felt that he was spending his time in the best way possible. 

Chapter Text

The next six months went as well as Issei could have hoped. Time passed by quickly, his grades were decent, practice was usually fun, he was getting better and better at volleyball, and he always walked home with Takahiro at the end of each day. 

To his simultaneous surprise and relief, he didn’t hear from Sakamoto again. There were no texts or phone calls. He didn’t see him at any of the official matches he played, and he didn’t have to deal with him at any of the many practice games he and his teammates participated in. There was absolutely no contact from him. It was as if the confession had never happened, and as far as Issei was concerned, that outcome was ideal. 

At present, there was less than three weeks until he would be graduating from middle school, and there would be a class trip the following morning. That would last for three days—the first of which happened to be his birthday.  

Then there would be two weeks of spring break before he and Takahiro started attending Aoba Johsai. They had settled on that high school for one reason: Yuda was going there. And the reason Yuda wanted to go there was, of course, because Suzuki had chosen that school. Her family was relocating across town over spring break, which meant it would be a short walk for her.

As luck would have it, Yuda would only have to walk for about twenty minutes to get there.

That wouldn’t be the case for Takahiro and Issei, since they would be facing a forty-five minute walk to and from school each day. But they didn’t mind. They had really enjoyed playing volleyball with Yuda over the past three years, and they wanted to continue playing with him. 

Almost everyone else on their team would be going to the high school that Sakamoto now attended. In fact, the three boys were the only ones not going to that school. And that meant there were a lot of emotional farewells on the last day of practice, which fell on the day before the class trip.

Their school was a rare one that allowed third-years to participate right up until the end, and that time had come. The club wouldn’t meet anymore until after spring break. 

There was a little party for Issei and Yuda when that last practice ended, to thank them for being such a good captain and vice. It went on for an hour, but because practice had been rather short that day, Takahiro and Issei ended up walking home at about the same time as usual. 

However, they did have to go at a slow pace, because Takahiro was clearly exhausted. 

It had been another day of not eating well due to stomach pain, and thanks to that, he struggled to make it through practice. That’s how it had been ever since a few months earlier, when winter break came to an end. It got to the point that not even his persistence and willpower could help him push through anymore, and their coach took notice, so he was benched multiple times because of it. 

He also hadn’t been allowed to participate in the last five or six practice games of the year, and over the past few weeks, he wasn’t able to make it through practice without having to sit out for the last hour or so. Issei often found him asleep in the club room after practice ended.

The coach thought Takahiro was being lazy, which would have pissed him off under any other circumstance. But the alternative would have been a concerned call home. He didn’t want his parents to ban him from going to practice altogether, so he let his coach (and many of his teammates) misunderstand the situation. What they thought didn’t matter to him. 

All he cared about was being on the court as much as possible, and getting to practice with Issei and Yuda, both of whom defended him whenever anyone remarked that he wasn’t a reliable ace anymore. 

Yuda’s loyalty didn’t have to be earned by learning Takahiro’s secret. Even if he didn’t know why Takahiro was struggling, he wouldn’t let people badmouth those he cared about. He was just that kind of friend.

Having to hear people talk badly behind Takahiro’s back left Issei feeling quite upset. But because Takahiro had made him promise not to say anything to anyone, he couldn’t clear his name by explaining the situation. The only thing he could do was support his best friend in whatever ways possible.  

They were currently on their way home, and Takahiro was holding onto Issei’s arm as he tiredly dragged his feet. He had been lightheaded ever since the end of practice.

“Are you excited about the trip tomorrow?” 

“Yeah,” Issei replied. “Are you?”

“Kinda. I’m not sure if I wanna go,” Takahiro said, sounding hesitant. “Might pretend to be sick so I can stay home.”

“Why?” Issei asked, glancing at Takahiro, though he couldn’t see his face very well in the darkness. 

“Just doesn’t sound that fun,” Takahiro replied with a shrug. “And we don’t have practice anymore. There’s no reason to wake up at the crack of dawn now, so I’d rather stay home and sleep in for a few extra days.”

“Oh, that’s right. There’s no morning practice anymore,” Issei said as they rounded a corner, following the sidewalk.

Takahiro had been struggling to wake up on time over the past six months, which meant Issei was in the habit of going to his house each morning to drag him out of bed.

“If you hadn’t reminded me, I might’ve come over at six tomorrow.”

“If you did that, I’d have to disown you for waking me up early for no good reason,” Takahiro said in a playful voice, squeezing Issei’s elbow. 

Issei snorted. “That’s all it takes to lose your favor, huh?”

“Eh, I’d forgive you eventually,” Takahiro teased. “What time does the bus leave tomorrow?”

“Around nine, ‘cause the train leaves at nine-thirty,” Issei replied. “You know . . . it would seriously suck to go without you. If you’re not there, I’ll be by myself on my birthday.”

“Yuda and Suzuki-chan are gonna be with you,” Takahiro pointed out, with forced cheer in his voice. “And we could celebrate when you get back.”

“Wouldn’t be the same,” Issei muttered as he glanced away. He didn’t want to go on the class trip without his best friend. 

After a few seconds of silence, Takahiro let out a long sigh. “Fine. If it means that much to you, I guess I’ll go.” 

Issei looked at Takahiro and grinned. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Takahiro replied. “But you gotta come wake me up as late as possible tomorrow, ‘cause I’m gonna sleep until the last minute.”

“Make sure you pack everything you need before you go to bed,” Issei said, experiencing a fresh rush of excitement about the next few days. 

His class would be going to Nara, which was a five hour train ride. He had never been that far away from home before. For his elementary school graduation trip, he and his classmates went to Tokyo for a few days, and he was already somewhat familiar with that area thanks to his yearly summertime visits to his grandparents.

The two boys soon made it to their neighborhood, and they were standing in front of Issei’s house. That’s when Takahiro let go of Issei’s arm and held his hand out so they could do their handshake. 

“You okay to walk the rest of the way by yourself?” Issei asked, shaking Takahiro’s hand and bumping their fists together. 

“Yeah, I’m feeling much better than I was earlier.” Takahiro put his hands in his pockets and turned to leave, slowly shuffling towards his house. “See you in the morning.”

“I’ll come wake you up at eight,” Issei said as he watched Takahiro for a few seconds, just to make sure he was steady on his feet. Then he went over to his own house, unlocking the front door and stepping inside once he got to it. 

He was greeted by the sound of his little sister shrieking about something. For an almost ten-year-old, she was certainly more dramatic than many of the other kids her age. It wasn’t always clear what set her off, but this time, it seemed like it had to do with school.

Issei took off his shoes and left his stuff by the front door. Then he went further into the house, peeking into the kitchen, where Asami was crying to her mother about the things she went through that day. 

Meanwhile, Kazuki was leaning against the counter, listening to his twin sister rant and rave about bad friends, cruel teachers, and mean boys. He had likely heard it all on the way home earlier that day, so he was just there for emotional support. 

His personality continued to be the total opposite of his twin. She was like a river with lots of bends, rapids, and restless water, whereas he was like a lake with a calm surface, hiding the strong underwater currents out of sight. And he was one of the only people who didn’t appear outwardly bothered by Asami’s frequent outbursts, aside from covering his ears when she was being particularly loud. 

Yuko was also one of those people, and she usually did her best to comfort Asami through whatever was upsetting her. But there always came a point where she would give her daughter a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before excusing herself to finish a chore, or to do some other random thing she came up with, needing a little break from it all. 

“I know you’re frustrated, Ah-chan,” Yuko said in a tone that was a bit dismissive, as if she was nearing the end of her rope. “Maybe you should go take your bath now. That always helps you relax, doesn’t it?”

Issei stepped into the kitchen just then and went to get himself a glass of water. “I was gonna use the shower, but she can go first.”

“You don’t understand,” Asami cried, stomping her foot a few times. “They said my ideas are dumb! That means they think I’m dumb! They don’t like me—nobody likes me!”

“I hear you, sweetheart. But that’s not true. I like you, and your brothers like you, and your dad likes you, and Rei-chan likes you. Lots of people like you,” Yuko said, patting Asami’s shoulder. Then she walked over to Issei and stood beside him. “I need to discuss something with your brother. You should go use the bath while we’re talking, before it gets too late.”

Asami crossed her arms and sniffled, obviously not wanting her concerns to be brushed aside. 

All of a sudden, Mr. Matsukawa walked into the kitchen. But when he saw that Asami was upset, he turned right back around, leaving the room without uttering a single word. He couldn’t stand being around her when she was crying—not that he ever said that directly. But he didn’t have to, because his behavior spoke for him. He wasn’t willing to subject himself to Asami’s outbursts if Yuko was there to deal with her. 

And it was arguably better that way. His methods of dealing with his daughter’s feelings tended to be harsh and short-tempered, focusing more on pushing her to get over it rather than trying to understand her, which often made the situation worse.

“You all hate me!” Asami yelled, having just watched her father abruptly leave the room. Then she stomped her feet a few more times and ran out of the kitchen, crying with a renewed sense of sorrow and heartbreak. 

Kazuki followed behind his twin sister, silent as a shadow. He would probably let her vent a little longer, and after that, he would get her to watch a show with him to take her mind off things. That’s what he always did.

“Do you really need to talk to me?” Issei asked, looking at his mother once he had finished his water and set his glass in the sink. “Or was that just an excuse to distract Ah-chan?”

“It’s not an excuse,” Yuko said, holding onto Issei’s arm and guiding him out of the kitchen. “I know you’re tired from practice, but can we go for a little walk?”

“Sure,” Issei said, wishing he would have grabbed an apple or something. He had eaten a few steamed buns with his teammates before heading home, but his stomach was demanding more food, and he wanted to have dinner. There was probably a plate for him in the fridge.

But he decided that could wait.

He and his mother went to the front door, slipping on their shoes. Then they stepped out into the chilly nighttime air. It wasn’t so cold that they needed scarves or hats, but there was a slight breeze, which was enough to make Yuko wrap her arms around herself. She was wearing a sweater that was a bit too thin to keep her warm.

It was silent as they walked away from their house. 

Issei had a feeling that his mother wanted to talk about something specific, and he was waiting for her to bring it up.

After nearly a minute, Yuko finally spoke, sounding kind of sad. “Me and you really don’t get enough time together. I worked so much when you were younger, and now I’m working just as much again. It’s hard, isn’t it? I wish things were different.”

“It’s fine,” Issei said, putting his hands in the pockets of his jacket. He was wearing his volleyball track suit, which was more comfortable than his school uniform. “I always had fun at Takahiro’s house back then. And besides, we’ve both got stuff keeping us busy these days.”

“I’ll never be able to thank Misumi enough for watching you and the twins when you were little,” Yuko said, giving a soft and nostalgic smile. “She treated you all so well, didn’t she?” 

“She’s always been really nice,” Issei agreed as he walked slowly, matching his mother’s pace. They had no specific destination, which meant there was no need to hurry.

“I’m sure Takahiro was glad to have you as a playmate,” Yuko remarked, glancing at Issei as they passed under a street light. They hadn’t gotten that far away from their home. In fact, they were just passing the Hanamaki house. “You’re so close now.”

“Yeah, he’s my best friend,” Issei said with a slight grin, glancing over at Takahiro’s house. “We’ve always done everything together.”

“That’s how me and Misumi were when we were kids.” Yuko shivered when a sudden gust of wind blew, hugging herself more tightly than before. “Always at each other’s house, lots of sleepovers, all that good stuff. It was a wonderful way to grow up.”

Issei stopped walking and took off his jacket, putting it over his mother’s shoulders. Then he stared at her for a few seconds, trying to picture her as a teenager. But he couldn’t see her as anything other than how she was at that very moment. 

She was in her early forties, with her wavy black hair grown out past her shoulders, longer than it had been in quite a while. When she went to work, she wore it up. But she always wore it down when she was at home.

The slight lines on her forehead and frown she often wore marked her exhaustion and wariness, which seemed to be a permanent part of her demeanor now, revealing how much she tended to worry and how hard she worked each day. And like the twins, she was rather thin. 

Still, there was a certain warmth in her voice and attitude that brought Issei a great deal of comfort, just like it always did. 

“I know I don’t say this enough, but I’m so proud of who you’ve become,” Yuko said, zipping up the jacket Issei had given her. Then she held his arm as they started walking again. “I’ll always be proud to call you my son. Nothing will ever change that . . . You know that, right?”

“You tell me that all the time,” Issei replied. There was a sudden strange heaviness in the air between them that he wanted to ignore, and humor was the best way to do that. “Is your memory getting worse?”

Yuko let go of Issei’s arm and playfully swatted at him. “Oh, stop that. Don’t make fun of your poor old mother.”

“Poor old mother?” Issei stepped further away, making it harder for his mother to reach him as he continued to tease her. “I wasn’t gonna say anything, but you are looking older lately.”

“I’m not that old! It’s just an expression,” Yuko said, lightly swatting Issei’s arm a few more times, until they were both laughing. Then she sighed and grew serious. “I just want you to know that you can tell me anything, sweetheart. I wouldn’t ever think any less of you.”

“It feels like you want me to say I cheat on my tests or something,” Issei said, ignoring the cold air that was nipping at his bare arms. “I’d have way higher marks if I did that.”

“That’s not what I mean,” Yuko said, sounding slightly more urgent, and just as sincere. Then she reached up to run her fingers through Issei’s hair, like she used to when he was little. 

However, he was much taller than her now. She could barely reach the top of his head—that is, until he leaned over a bit to make it easier for her. 

“If there’s ever anything you need to tell me,” she continued, running her fingers through Issei’s loose curls, “just to get it off your chest, or talk about it with someone you trust . . . I’m here to listen.”

“Thanks,” Issei mumbled, letting his mother fix his hair for a few more seconds before he stood up straight again. There seemed to be something else she wanted to say, but for whatever reason, she wouldn’t come out with it. And he wasn’t sure if he should pressure her by asking her directly. 

Then his phone started ringing, so he pulled it out of his pocket. Takahiro was calling him.

He looked over his shoulder at Takahiro’s house, which was behind them now. “Do you mind if I answer this?”

“Go ahead,” Yuko replied, turning around to walk back the way they had come. Then she held onto Issei’s arm again. “It’s too cold to stay out here much longer.”

Issei walked beside his mother and put his phone to his ear. “Hey, what’s up?”

“I forgot about the makeup work I was supposed to do,” Takahiro said. “Do you still have the homework from a week ago?”

“The stuff for math?”

“Yeah.”

“I think it’s still in my bag,” Issei said, glancing at his mother. He wondered what she would think if she knew how often he and Takahiro borrowed each other’s homework to copy. “Do you wanna use it?”

There was a smile in Takahiro’s voice. “Do you even have to ask?”

Issei and his mother had just reached their house, since they went much faster than they did when they were going the other way. “You gonna come over, or should I come to you?”

“Hmmm, come to my place. I need help packing,” Takahiro said. “Just ask if you can sleep over.”

“Alright, hang on a sec.” Issei held his phone against his chest as he and his mother walked to their front door. “Can I sleep over at Takahiro’s house?”

“That’s fine,” Yuko replied. “You’ll be leaving for your class trip tomorrow, won’t you?”

Issei nodded. “Yeah, we leave right after we check in with our teacher.” 

“I wish it was a different week.” Yuko sighed, slowly opening the front door. “We’ll have to do something special for your birthday when you get back.”

“Can I have some extra spending money?” Issei asked. “As an early birthday gift.”

“Sure,” Yuko replied with a smile, stepping inside ahead of her son. “I want you to have lots of fun tomorrow.”

Once he was in the house, Issei slipped his shoes off and picked up his bags, which were still near the entryway. Then he put his phone back to his ear. “My mom said I can stay the night, but I’ve gotta shower and pack before I come over. So give me about thirty minutes.”

“Alright,” Takahiro said. “See you soon.”

Once he had hung up the phone, Issei walked down the hallway and threw his stuff in his room, hurrying to take a shower afterwards. Then he packed for the trip, accomplishing that task in record time. And he almost got something to eat before he left, but there was always plenty of food at Takahiro’s house, so he decided to head right over.

“Here,” Yuko said, handing Issei some cash when he came into the living room to say goodnight. “Don’t stay up too late.”

“We won’t,” Issei promised as he put the money into his wallet. He felt like his mother was giving him an odd look, which made him wonder again about what she really meant to say during their earlier conversation. 

But there wasn’t time to worry about that, so he moved those thoughts to the back of his mind, stepping out of the house with all of his stuff in his arms. 

He went to Takahiro’s house, finding himself in the kitchen within a few minutes of getting there. He ate leftovers of what the Hanamaki family had for dinner while Takahiro copied his answers. Then they got Takahiro’s bags packed. 

After that, they pestered Etsu, who also happened to have a friend over. Now that she was about to graduate from high school, she spent all of her time studying for her college entrance exams. And that’s what she was trying to do with her friend.

However, the boys couldn’t possibly let her do that in peace. 

Every few minutes, they interrupted the study session by knocking on Etsu’s bedroom door, ducking into the storage closet that was right beside it to hide afterwards. They kept on doing that until they were caught by Takahiro’s mother.

“You’re both fifteen now,” Misumi scolded as she stared at the two boys, both of whom were giving innocent smiles and standing with their hands behind their backs. “Try to act a little more mature sometimes, won’t you?”

“I’m not actually fifteen yet,” Issei pointed out. “So I should get a bit more leniency.”

“It’s true,” Takahiro added. “As the eldest, it’s my job to keep him out of trouble. Can’t blame him for my shortcomings.”

“Oh, I don’t blame him at all,” Misumi said, crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow. “I’m sure it was your idea.”

Takahiro pretended like his feelings were hurt. “Wow, you could at least blame him a little bit.”

Misumi endearingly clicked her tongue and shook her head. “One of these days, you’ll be all grown up, and then maybe you’ll finally start to act like the fine young man I’ve raised you to be.” 

“That sounds awful,” Takahiro said with a dramatic pout. Then he dropped to his knees and wrapped his arms around his mother’s legs, acting rather childish and silly. “I don’t wanna grow up, Mommy. It’s not gonna be any fun.”

“There’s lots of nice things about growing up,” Misumi said, looking down at Takahiro with a straight face, though she was holding back a smile. “Like having more independence.”

Issei watched Takahiro’s antics, finding it amusing. “Isn’t that just a fancy way of saying we’ll have more responsibilities?” 

“That’s right,” Misumi said, winking at Issei and reaching down to pinch Takahiro’s nose. “Speaking of responsibility, I need you boys to take something over to Yuko for me.”

“You want us to run an errand at this hour?” Takahiro asked, letting go of his mother’s legs so that he could collapse face down on the floor, which muffled his voice. “It’s been such a long day. Can’t you see how tired I am? I can barely stand, let alone carry something.”

“It won’t even take you five minutes, you goofy little brat,” Misumi said as she stepped over her son. “I was supposed to bring it over earlier because she needs it first thing in the morning.”

“Oh, I see how it is,” Takahiro said, rolling from his stomach onto his back so that he could cross his arms. “You forgot to do something important, and now we have to do it to bail you out.”

“That’s another nice thing about being a grown-up,” Misumi said, smirking as she walked towards the top of the stairway. “You get to delegate.”

“I’ll go do it real quick,” Issei offered as he stared down at his best friend. “You can stay here.”

“Really?” Takahiro grinned and slowly sat up. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Issei said, turning to go down the stairs. 

He let Misumi know that he was going alone, and she gave him a bag, not saying what was inside. It would have been impolite to ask, so he took it without question. Then he slipped out into the darkness. 

It took just a couple of minutes for him to reach his house, and he went inside without announcing himself, intending to just leave the bag on the dining table. It was late enough that he expected his siblings to be asleep and his parents to be in their bedroom. But he heard raised voices coming from the kitchen, so he paused in the entryway right after gently closing the front door. 

“You’re not taking my concerns seriously!” Mr. Matsukawa shouted, unable to contain his anger. 

“That’s because your ‘concerns’ are bullshit,” Yuko replied, her voice cold and severe, in a way Issei wasn’t at all familiar with. “If he ever finds out how you feel, it’ll break his heart.”

“It’s not a matter of how I feel,” Mr. Matsukawa argued. “It’s about what other people will think!”

Yuko crossed her arms and stared at her husband defiantly, unwilling to be meek in this situation. But it wasn’t easy—her voice shook slightly, and she was trembling. “Who cares what other people think?” 

Mr. Matsukawa slammed the side of his fist against the wall behind him, though it wasn’t hard enough to do any damage. “I do!” 

After a startled reaction, it took a few seconds for Yuko to finally respond. “So what strangers think is more important than your own son’s happiness?”

There was a beat of silence.

Issei was frozen near the entryway step that led into the house, with one hand holding the bag, and the other still on the door handle. He didn’t think he wanted to hear this conversation. But unfortunately, he wasn’t able to move, and he couldn’t stop himself from listening.

“It’s not about strangers,” Mr. Matsukawa said as he started pacing back and forth across the kitchen, each step making a quiet tap when the bottom of his slippers met the hardwood. “What would our parents think?”

“I don’t care what your parents think,” Yuko retorted, sounding curt and venomous. 

Of everyone she knew, only Misumi had heard her speak with so much animosity, which was usually reserved for the venting they did on their weekly night out. She almost never spoke to her husband like this, and her children hadn’t ever seen this side of her. The twins were asleep, and Issei wasn’t supposed to be home, so she was letting out everything she usually held in. 

“If they don’t accept my son, they can go straight to hell,” she added, squeezing herself tightly as she spoke, since her arms were still crossed. It didn’t stop her from trembling with anger and anxiety.

Mr. Matsukawa stopped pacing and stared at his wife like he couldn’t believe his ears. And he didn’t reply right away. He just stared and stared, as if he were processing, or trying to formulate a response that wouldn’t quite come together in his mind.

Meanwhile, Issei wondered if his mother and father were talking about him or his little brother. It seemed highly unlikely that Kazuki, who didn’t ever cause trouble on purpose, could have done something to make their parents argue like this. That is, unless it was about how he still couldn’t talk at school. They did fight about that sometimes. 

But he figured it was probably something he had done, so he was mentally scrambling to remember every mistake he had made in the past few months that might be upsetting enough for his parents to fight over.

“You’re making it worse,” Mr. Matsukawa scoffed, having finally gotten his thoughts together. “And don’t try to deny it. At every turn, you’re enabling him.”

Yuko hadn’t moved from where she was leaning against the counter, and as much as she was still trembling, she wasn’t backing down. “It’s called being supportive.”

Mr. Matsukawa rolled his eyes. “Not everything is worth supporting.”

“Wow.” Yuko shook her head in disbelief, staring at her husband with disgust.  

“Don’t look at me like that. Please, Yuko, just listen to me. By the time I was his age, I’d already had three girlfriends,” Mr. Matsukawa explained, his tone impatient, but also apologetic. “He’s about to be fifteen, and he hasn’t had a single one. Don’t you see? Something’s wrong with him. We need to fix it, and we need to do it fast, before things get out of hand.”

In response, Yuko actually let out a short laugh, as if she thought her husband was being completely ridiculous. “There’s nothing wrong with him. Not all middle schoolers date—hell, not even all high schoolers date. I certainly didn’t.”

“Yeah, but that’s different. Boys have needs. If he’s not getting it from a girl, he might . . .” Mr. Matsukawa couldn’t seem to finish his sentence. Then he sighed and rubbed his temples. “If we don’t keep a close eye on him, he might do something stupid. And I won’t stand for that kind of behavior.”

“What do you want him to do?” Yuko demanded, finally uncrossing her arms so that she could gesture angrily. “Have sex with some girl, just to prove something to you?”

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Mr. Matsukawa exhaled sharply, paced around the room again, and let out a frustrated groan as he ran his fingers through his hair. Then he took a deep breath and gave Yuko a desperate look. “Do you want him to end up like my brother? Is that what you want for him?”

Over by the front door, Issei frowned, feeling confused and uneasy. All this time, he thought his father was an only child. A brother had never been mentioned. 

“Even if that happens, it wouldn’t change anything,” Yuko insisted. “He’s our son. We should support him, no matter what.”

“It’s our job as his parents to keep that kind of thing from happening,” Mr. Matsukawa snapped, getting visibly enraged again. “And you know what? We shouldn’t let him spend so much time with that boy! He’s part of the problem—a bad influence, even!”

“Don’t bring Takahiro into this,” Yuko said in a firm voice, though her hands were trembling as she brought them together in front of herself, taking her wedding ring off and flipping it before putting it back on, which had become a nervous habit of hers. She did it over and over again. “They mean the world to each other, and no matter what you think, I won’t let you interfere with their friendship.”

Mr. Matsukawa balled up his fists, and his nostrils were flaring. “I’m the man of this house!”

There was a long beat of silence after that, until once again, Mr. Matsukawa managed to calm himself down.

It seemed like Yuko’s composure was finally slipping. She was on the verge of tears, and her voice cracked when she spoke. “I don’t understand why this is such a big deal to you.”

“I just want one normal child,” Mr. Matsukawa said, his voice softer than it had been throughout that entire conversation, despite him still sounding upset. “One normal son. Is that too much to ask for?”

At that point, Issei couldn’t take it anymore. He carefully set the bag from Misumi down in the entryway and turned around, sneaking back out the front door and closing it softly behind himself. Then he started running, and he didn’t stop until he got back to Takahiro’s house. 

As he rushed inside, he almost collided with Mr. Hanamaki, who had just finished walking down the stairs. He slipped as he tried to dodge him.

“Whoa there,” Mr. Hanamaki said, catching Issei in his arms. “What’s the hurry?”

Issei sniffled. He hadn’t even realized that he was crying, and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning down and pressing his face against Mr. Hanamaki’s shoulder, clinging to the sides of his shirt. 

Mr. Hanamaki held Issei as he cried. Every now and then, he patted his back, whispering some comforting words. And he waited for Issei to calm down before gently asking him a question.

“Do you feel like talking about it?”

“My parents were fighting,” Issei mumbled, stepping out of Mr. Hanamaki’s arms. Then he wiped his face on the inside of his shirt. 

“What’s going on?” Misumi asked, having just come around the corner. She was obviously surprised to find a teary-eyed Issei standing near the entryway. 

As soon as Issei met Misumi’s gaze, his chin started quivering again, and then he looked down at his feet. 

“Oh, honey.” Misumi moved past her husband and pulled Issei into a hug. “Did something happen?”

Because he started crying again, Issei wasn’t able to answer. 

“He caught his parents at a bad time,” Mr. Hanamaki said, his tone full of sympathy. 

“Ah, I see. I’m sorry I sent you over there,” Misumi murmured as she held Issei in her embrace.

Not only was she taller than her husband, she was also nearly as tall as Issei, despite his latest growth spurt. He only stood two or three centimeters above her. And she was fat, with a nice, round tummy and big, squishy arms. So her hugs were especially soft, warm, and comforting. 

She kept holding Issei until he had fully calmed down again, and then she stepped back, squeezing his shoulders. “Go on upstairs, alright? I’ll bring some tea up in a few minutes.”

Issei nodded and hurried up the stairs, eager to be where adults weren’t looking at him with pity. But he bumped into Etsu once he reached the top. She had just come out of the bathroom, and she was irritated over the collision at first, until she looked at his tear-stained face. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, waving away her friend, who was looking at her from her bedroom down the hall. After her friend closed the door, she went into the bathroom and grabbed a small towel, which she used to wipe Issei’s face. “Did someone hurt you? Just say the word and I’ll beat them up for you, especially if it was my brother.”

Issei shook his head, taking the towel from Etsu and dabbing his eyes with it. “I heard my parents fighting.”

“Oh. Well . . . I’m sure they’ll get over it,” Etsu said in a sort of awkward way, only because she wasn’t very skilled at comforting people. “All parents fight sometimes.”

There was nothing Issei could think to say, so he nodded again.

And then, as if not knowing what else to do, Etsu pulled him into a hug. Unlike her mother and little sister, she was rather thin, taking after her father. So her hugs weren’t as soft, and they were also quite stiff. She had never been one for physical affection. 

They stood there for several seconds, until Etsu released him and firmly patted his arm. That was the extent of the comfort she was able to offer.

“I need to get back to my friend,” she said, walking towards her bedroom door. “Go talk to Takahiro about it, alright? He always knows how to cheer you up.”

After another nod, Issei went down to the end of the hallway, slipping into Takahiro’s room. 

“Took you longer than I thought it would,” Takahiro said in a playful voice, glancing up from where he was flipping through a book at his desk. But his smile faded when he saw Issei’s face. “What’s wrong?”

Issei wiped his eyes on the towel again, leaving it on the floor afterwards and climbing onto Takahiro’s bed. He crawled under the covers, facing the wall, not knowing how to describe what he had heard his parents arguing about. Only the top of his head was visible. 

Takahiro went to sit on the edge of the bed. “Wanna talk about it?” 

Issei shook his head. 

“Alright,” Takahiro said, getting up to turn off the light. 

Then he slipped under the covers and made himself comfortable, wrapping his arms around Issei’s chest from behind. He had become thinner than his older sister over the past year, but his hugs weren’t stiff like hers. Rather, they were familiar and comforting like his mother’s, even without the extra warmth and softness.

Now that Issei was in a place that felt safe, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It seemed like he stumbled upon his parents fighting at least once every couple of months, but it had never been about him before, and he didn’t know what to do about it. 

He also didn’t like the way his parents were talking to each other. His mother’s anger was so intense and unfamiliar, and his father’s attitude appeared to be the thing that brought that side of her out. He wished he knew how to make things better between them. 

And worst of all, his father thought there was something wrong with him. Nothing had ever hurt as much as hearing those words. It was so painful that he felt tears welling up again, but he held them back, not wanting to cry anymore.

Instead he just sniffled and blinked them away. 

There was a squeeze from Takahiro just then, and he pressed his forehead against Issei’s back, right between his shoulders. They were both under the covers. So when he spoke softly, it was still easy to hear him.

“Sorry you’re having a hard time.”

“It’s not your fault,” Issei whispered. 

“Kinda seems like it might be,” Takahiro said, his voice still soft and small, like he was feeling a significant amount of guilt. “You weren’t upset until you went home just now, and you only went there ‘cause I didn’t wanna go.”

“It’s not your fault,” Issei repeated, sniffling again. “My parents were fighting, and I overheard them. That’s all it was. They’ve been fighting a lot lately, usually over dumb stuff. It’s nothing new.”

“That seems really frustrating,” Takahiro said, hugging Issei a little tighter. “What were they fighting about this time?”

“They were fighting about . . . me,” Issei replied, trying to keep himself from breaking down in tears.

“About you?” Takahiro sounded confused. “What about you?”

“It’s gonna seem really dumb,” Issei muttered, sniffling and wiping his eyes on the back of his wrist. “My dad was saying I should have a girlfriend by now. But I don’t . . . so he . . . he thinks . . . he thinks there’s something wrong with me.”

“What the hell?!” Takahiro’s fists clenched up against Issei’s chest, and then he let go of him, sitting up in bed like he was too angry to lie down anymore. “Your dad’s full of shit! He’s a big, dumb asshole for saying that! And besides, lots of people at school haven’t dated anyone yet!”

“That’s what my mom was saying,” Issei said, rolling onto his back and pulling the blanket down to his neck so he could look at Takahiro, though it was too dark to actually see him. “I don’t know why he’s being weird about it.”

After taking a few seconds to get over his initial shock and outrage, Takahiro flopped back down and wrapped his arms around Issei again, resting his cheek on Issei’s shoulder. “Do you wish you had a girlfriend?”

“No, I’ve never even thought about getting one,” Issei mumbled, staring at the ceiling through the darkness. The digital clock on the nightstand was the only light source in the room, and it wasn’t that bright. “What about you?”

“I don’t want a girlfriend,” Takahiro replied. “And for the record, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with us. If your dad ever says that shit in front of me, I’m gonna punch him in the nose, just you wait and see.”

“Thanks, but please don’t ever do that. And try not to act any different around him,” Issei said, suddenly remembering that his father already had some kind of grudge against Takahiro, which meant they should avoid upsetting him. “I’d rather just forget about it.”

There was a knock on the door, and then it opened, revealing Takahiro’s mother. 

“I brought tea for both of you,” Misumi said as she stepped into the room. “Can I turn the light on?”

“Yeah,” Takahiro replied, sitting up and scooting back to lean against the headboard. 

Issei sat up too, and then Misumi flipped the light switch with her elbow, since she had a mug in each hand. 

“Did you make mine extra sweet?” Takahiro asked, grinning at his mother and batting his eyelashes. 

“Naturally,” Misumi replied, coming over and offering a mug to each of the boys. “If I didn’t, I’d never hear the end of your complaining.”

“Thank you,” Issei said, taking the mug and holding it between his hands, appreciating the warmth of it. The room was cold thanks to the windows being open.

Misumi was staring at Issei with an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry again, about sending you over there at a bad time.”  

“It’s alright,” Issei replied, not wanting her to feel guilty about it. There was no way she could have known. 

“Ugh, my tummy hurts,” Takahiro said, setting his mug down on the nightstand beside his bed. After that, he pulled his shirt up and squeezed the skin on his stomach together with his hands, pretending his belly button was doing the talking. “It’s ‘cause the tea isn’t sweet enough.” 

“It’s plenty sweet,” Misumi said in a dry voice. She was studying Takahiro’s belly, as if trying to figure something out. “There’s a nasty stomach bug going around. And come to think of it, you didn’t eat much for dinner. Are you getting sick?”

“Nah, it’s not hurting like that,” Takahiro replied in a casual tone, pulling his shirt down. Then he slouched over onto Issei’s shoulder, putting the back of one hand to his forehead. “It’s just from all the stress I’ve been under.”

“What’s been stressing you out?” Misumi asked, cracking a slight grin, though there were hints of concern in her eyes as she gathered up her long, auburn hair, tying it into a low bun. “Don’t tell me it’s the chores you’re supposed to do. The other day, a little birdy told me you get Rei-chan to do them for you most of the time.”

“First of all, that’s false information. Don’t listen to Eh-chan’s lies,” Takahiro said, crossing his arms as he continued to lean against Issei’s side. “And if you must know, I’ve been super stressed about the entrance exam. I didn’t think I was gonna get in, and if that happened, I wouldn’t get to go to high school with my best friend.”

“We could’ve gone somewhere else if that happened,” Issei pointed out as he held his mug under his chin. The steam was helping to clear his nose, which was stuffy from his earlier crying.

“Well, yeah . . . if it came down to it, we could’ve done that,” Takahiro admitted with great reluctance. “But it would’ve meant taking another entrance exam.” 

“You got in, so there’s no need to stress about it anymore. And you know what? Me and your dad were really impressed with how hard you were studying,” Misumi said, reaching out to feel Takahiro’s forehead. “If you start feeling sick, you should stay home from the class trip. Wouldn’t be very nice to spread a stomach bug around.”

Suddenly, Rei appeared in the doorway and stepped into the room. “I need more pencils.”

“Already?” Misumi turned to stare at her youngest daughter. “I just bought you some a week ago.”

“I used them up,” Rei said with a shrug. Instead of her usual pigtails, she had recently switched to wearing her dark brown hair in a low, messy bun. It made her look even more like her mother, and it also made her seem a little less childish, though a child she remained. She was three months away from turning ten. “I’ve been practicing hands and feet all week.”

Takahiro snorted. “That sounds dirty.”

“I’ve been drawing them,” Rei clarified, furrowing her brow and tilting her head, like she wasn’t sure what her older brother was joking about.

“He knows that,” Misumi said, shooting a scolding look at Takahiro, who smiled innocently in response. Then she ushered Rei out of the room. “Come on, you’re up way past your bedtime. Do you boys want the light off?”

“Nah, leave it on,” Takahiro replied. “I only turned it off ‘cause I didn’t think Issei would want me staring at him while he cried.”

“Why was he crying?” Rei asked, though Misumi closed the bedroom door before that question could be answered. 

There was silence for a few seconds, during which time Takahiro finally sat up straight and grabbed his mug, taking a sip of his tea. 

“Is your stomach actually hurting right now?” Issei asked, glancing at his best friend. 

“Yeah, it’s been hurting again since I tried to eat dinner. I was thinking I’d ease into telling my parents about it, so from now on, I’m gonna drop hints so it doesn’t seem like I’ve been hiding it,” Takahiro replied. Then he looked at Issei and grinned mischievously. “But maybe it actually is from all the stress in my life. To preserve my health, you should probably do my homework for me—just to be on the safe side.”

“You already copy my homework all the time,” Issei pointed out before drinking some of his tea, which was the perfect temperature to warm him up without burning his mouth.

“Well, maybe you should start writing it for me,” Takahiro suggested as he held up his fingers, wiggling them around. “I’ve gotta save all my hand strength for volleyball.”

“We won’t have to do practice for another month, so I’m sure you’ll have plenty of time to rest your hands,” Issei said, playfully elbowing Takahiro’s side. 

“Ouch, my stomach,” Takahiro gasped, though he was clearly exaggerating. He set his mug down on the nightstand and gave Issei a reprimanding frown. “You can’t hit me out of nowhere when I’m not feeling good.”

Acting on a sudden impulse, Issei tickled Takahiro, making him squawk and roll off the bed. He hit the floor with a loud thump. 

“Oh shit, my bad.” Issei scooted over and reached his free hand towards Takahiro, offering to help him up. “Are you okay?”

With a rascally gleam in his eyes, Takahiro grabbed Issei’s hand and pulled on it, like he was trying to make him fall. 

“You’re gonna make me spill tea on your bed,” Issei said, hurrying to set his mug down on the nightstand.

Then he let Takahiro pull him over the edge, which made him land on top of him. 

It seemed like Takahiro wanted to wrestle, but his attempts to get himself out from under Issei’s body weren’t effective, so he gave up and grew still. 

Issei triumphantly held himself above Takahiro, looking down at him with an amused grin. “Gonna have to try harder than that if you wanna pin me.”

“You’re heavier than you used to be,” Takahiro muttered, pushing on Issei’s chest to free himself. “That, or I’m getting weak.” 

“I’m just super strong,” Issei said, still grinning as he got to his feet and flexed both arms. “I’ve gained a lot of muscle.”

Takahiro stared at Issei from where he was still sprawled out on the floor. After a brief moment, he nodded to himself, as if he was happy about something. “Mission accomplished.”

“What mission?” Issei asked, watching Takahiro crawl back onto the bed.  

“I wanted to cheer you up,” Takahiro replied, stretching his legs out and putting his hands behind his head. “You feel better now, don’t you?”

Issei nodded and climbed over Takahiro’s legs, making it to where he had been sitting before. He did feel a lot better, and once he and Takahiro finished drinking their tea, sleepiness settled over both of them. 

However, it took a while for Issei to actually fall asleep. He kept replaying his parents’ argument in his mind, unable to forget about it. The sting of knowing how his father secretly felt about him wouldn’t go away. 

He was also deeply bothered by knowing that his father disapproved of how much time he and Takahiro spent together. It was impossible to picture his life without his best friend by his side each and every day, and he hoped he never had to find out what it would be like to experience that kind of separation.

Age 15

The next morning, the two boys set out for school, where they checked in with their homeroom teacher before getting on one of the buses that would be taking them and their classmates to the train station. Yuda and Suzuki sat in front of them for the drive. There were two classes on each bus, and even though Yuda was in a different homeroom this year, Suzuki happened to be in the same one as Issei and Takahiro, which worked out well for them. They were extremely lucky that their classes were assigned to the same bus.

Once they made it to the station, Issei and all of his third-year classmates flooded the platform, filling up several different railcars. He sat with his friends again after they boarded, taking over two bench seats that were facing each other. 

This train was much more comfortable than some Issei had ridden in the past. The seats were generously padded, and there was room for storing things overhead, so he and his friends were able to stow their bags up out of the way.

Less than ten minutes after sitting down, Takahiro fell asleep with his head on Issei’s shoulder, having already gotten worn out from that morning’s hustle and bustle.

Not even five minutes later, Yuda slouched against Suzuki and did the same thing. 

Issei was right across from Yuda, sitting near the window. He was staying as still as he could so that Takahiro could nap in peace, and since Suzuki started reading a book, he decided to rest for a while. After all, he had stayed up much later than he meant to the previous night, and the remainder of that day would be far easier if he could catch a little extra shut-eye. 

It would also help him avoid thinking about the things that had been plaguing his mind since overhearing his parents’ fight. So he scooted down, leaning his cheek against the side of Takahiro’s head and closing his eyes, with the murmur of his classmates in the surrounding seats lulling him to sleep. 

He woke up a couple of hours later, when it was time to transfer at a station in Tokyo. His neck was slightly pinched from sleeping at a weird angle, but overall, he felt much better after having a nap. 

Everyone gathered their belongings, leaving that railcar and following their teachers to the next train, which would take them to Kyoto in another two hours. After they boarded that one, they ate lunch, and then they played games to pass the time. 

There was one more transfer once they made it to Kyoto, and that one had a bit of a layover. But they weren’t allowed to leave the station. They had to wait there for nearly thirty minutes, until it was time for the last leg of their journey.

The train they boarded next was less comfortable than the first two had been.

Finally, they arrived in Nara, and they went right to the hotel to drop off their bags. Then they were told to split up into groups of three or four, which was both for safety and for the purpose of having partners for the research assignment that would be due when they got back from their trip.

The groups weren’t limited to those in the same homeroom. It was believed that letting classes mingle would promote a last-ditch opportunity for making new acquaintances, right in time for the last two weeks of school.

As to be expected, Issei stuck with his friends. They would get to explore on their own until it was time for dinner, at which point, they were supposed to meet back up at the hotel. 

Because it was Issei’s birthday, the four of them decided to find a bakery so they could have some cake together. That was easily accomplished, and they decided to eat at Nara Park, where there was a temple they could explore afterwards.

Their assignment was to study the history of that temple, and it had been Issei’s idea to get the research out of the way on the first day. That would give them the next day to do whatever they wanted—at least, that was true for the most part. There were a few things they had to do with their classmates the following morning. 

After visiting the bakery, they went to Nara Park and found themselves in a grassy area, which was filled with picnic tables, benches, and cherry blossom trees. There was an empty table right in the center, so they sat there and sliced the cake.

“Look how cute they are,” Yuda remarked, staring at a pair of deer that were standing under a nearby tree. The park and areas surrounding it were full of them.

“Yeah, they’re real cute, as long as they stay over there,” Takahiro said as he put a slice of cake onto each of the four paper plates that were on the table, using a plastic knife both for cutting and serving. The bakery had given those things out for free with their purchase. “I’m not sharing my food with them.”

Suzuki hummed thoughtfully. “If they ate some of this, they’d probably get indigestion.”

“All the more reason not to share.” Takahiro had finished getting everyone a slice of cake, so he passed a plate to each of his friends, starting with Issei. “Happy birthday!”

“Happy birthday,” echoed Yuda and Suzuki, taking the plates they had been given. 

“Thanks,” Issei said with a grin. “And thank you for buying the cake.”

“Think of it as a birthday present, ‘cause I didn’t know what else to get you,” Yuda said as he rubbed his hands together, leaning forward to smell his cake. Then he frowned. “Hey, we don’t have any chopsticks or forks. How are we supposed to eat?”

“Like this,” Takahiro replied, leaning over his cake and taking a bite directly out of it.

Issei chuckled. “That’s one way to do it.”

“Guess that’ll work,” Yuda said, taking a bite from his slice of cake. He got some frosting on his nose, and Suzuki used her handkerchief to wipe it off. 

Then she started eating her cake, and so did Issei, who had been enjoying his birthday so far. Traveling with his friends was fun, and he was looking forward to spending the rest of the afternoon exploring Todaiji Temple, which seemed like it would be an interesting enough place to write a report on.

Right as everyone was almost finished eating, one of the deer in the area walked over to their table, sniffing at the box that held the rest of the cake.

“No way,” Takahiro said, grabbing the box and holding it up above his head. “This isn’t for you.”

The deer used that opportunity to eat the last few bites of cake from Takahiro’s plate, much to his irritation. 

“You sneaky bastard,” he said, sliding his plate across the table. Then he started waving his hand at the deer, trying to make it go away.

“Careful, Hanamaki-kun,” Suzuki said, her voice and expression wary. “I’ve heard they can be aggressive when it comes to food.”

“Yeah, well so can I,” Takahiro replied as he stood up on the bench-style seat, holding the box of cake higher up. Then he used his foot to push on the deer’s neck, forcing it to move away. 

Issei grabbed onto the back of Takahiro’s shirt. “Hey, be careful.”

“Don’t worry,” Takahiro said, looking over his shoulder with a confident smirk. “I’m winning.”

However, the deer weaved around Takahiro’s foot a moment later, stepping up onto the bench and jumping for the box. The persistent creature managed to knock it out of Takahiro’s hand, almost taking him down with it. 

The only reason Takahiro wasn’t pushed over was because Issei had acted quickly, turning and standing right when the deer first started moving, which allowed him to hold Takahiro’s waist from behind, keeping him from falling.

Unfortunately, the deer happened to kick Takahiro right in the crotch during the struggle, so he was groaning and hunching forward.

“What’s wrong?” Issei asked, not having seen the incident from where he was standing. He still had his arms wrapped around Takahiro’s waist, and he was doing his best to keep him from falling off the cement bench. 

Meanwhile, Yuda was staring at Takahiro with a sympathetic expression. “I think he got hit in the nuts.” 

“Seriously?” Issei raised his eyebrows as he carefully helped Takahiro sit down. “Is that what happened?”

Takahiro nodded, turning his body so that he could rest his forehead on the stone table. It was obvious that he was in a lot of pain.

Issei let go of Takahiro once he was no longer at risk for falling. “Wow, that really sucks. Are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Takahiro muttered. But he remained hunched over, with his head on the table and his hands pressed to his groin.

Suzuki stacked the paper plates, which were now empty, and put them all in the bag that the cake box had been in. “I can’t believe it jumped at you like that.”

“Yeah, that was ridiculous,” Yuda added. Then he snapped his fingers. “Hey, maybe we could write our report about the deer. We could talk about how greedy they are when it comes to food. That could be, like, a metaphor for . . . how the local environment impacts animal behavior, or something.”

Issei shook his head, watching as Takahiro finally sat up straight. “I don’t think that’s the kind of stuff we’re supposed to write about.”

“It’s not,” Suzuki confirmed. “We have to write about the historical events of the temple.”

“Do you guys still wanna go over there today?” Yuda asked, mostly directing the question to Takahiro, who was now glaring at the deer as it got into the box and ate the last half of the cake.

“I’m extremely pissed off right now,” Takahiro grumbled, though he actually appeared rather calm, all things considered. “Look at that smug bastard.”

Issei patted Takahiro’s shoulder. “If it makes you feel any better, it’s probably gonna get an upset stomach.” 

“I hope it chokes,” Takahiro said as he gingerly adjusted the front of his pants, like he was still experiencing pain. “Man, I really wanted more cake.”

“We could get another one,” Issei suggested. “Although, you should have some protein. You didn’t eat much of your lunch.”

Takahiro sighed. “I wasn’t hungry then.”

Issei was fully aware that the only reason Takahiro didn’t finish his lunch was because his stomach was hurting, just like it had been that morning, which meant he hadn’t eaten much for breakfast either. There was only so much energy a protein bar, a banana, one rice ball, and most of a slice of cake could supply, particularly when it came to a teenager.

“You know, I could go for something a little more filling,” Yuda said as he got to his feet. “Let’s grab something at a restaurant before we go to the temple.”

Suzuki nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

The four of them left the park after that and went to a nearby restaurant, where they each got a light meal to eat. Then they headed to Todaiji Temple, which was back in Nara Park, taking up much of the Northern part.

They paid the entrance fee and wandered around the temple grounds, passing through many old structures, occasionally stopping to take notes when they encountered a sign explaining the significance of certain statues or sites. 

There was a lot to see. 

When they arrived in the main hall, they all stared up at the Great Buddha statue, which was around fifteen meters tall. Then they looked at the replica of the original temple grounds, taking a few pictures with their cell phones and jotting down some notes about it. 

After that, they came to a pillar that was surrounded by a small crowd, made up mostly of students from other schools, though there were some tourists there as well. A girl had just crawled through a hole in the bottom of the pillar, earning a few cheers from her friends on the other side.

“Oh, I’ve heard about this,” Suzuki said, moving closer to Yuda as she watched another person approach the hole in the pillar. “If you make it through, you’re granted a blessing for good health.”

“Should we try?” Yuda asked, glancing at Issei and Takahiro, both of whom were right behind him.

“Might as well,” Takahiro said with a shrug. “Wouldn’t hurt to get a blessing for good health.” 

Issei nodded, though he wasn’t sure that he would actually fit. 

Suzuki was short and petite, so she would definitely make it. And because Yuda’s height and build was average, he would probably pass through easily enough. 

As for Takahiro, he was thinner than Issei because of his long-term lack of appetite, and he was still a little bit shorter than him, but Issei was pretty sure that their shoulders were almost the same width. It might take some serious squeezing for either of them to pass through the pillar.

They all got in line, and there were only a few other people ahead of them. One of those people wasn’t able to get through the pillar, despite his friends pushing and pulling him from either side. He almost got himself stuck in such a way that he couldn’t get out.

Once that boy finally got free, Yuda went to squeeze through the pillar, managing to accomplish it without much of a struggle. After that, Suzuki took her turn, and because she was wearing her school uniform, Issei and Takahiro made a wall with their bodies to block people from seeing up her skirt as she crawled through the pillar. 

Then it was Takahiro’s turn, so he got down on his hands and knees in front of the pillar, looking up at Issei for a moment. “I’m starting to think I won’t fit.”

Issei squatted down next to Takahiro, comparing the size of his body with the hole, making some mental calculations. “I think you’ll be able to, but you should try to keep your arms above your head.”

“Right, wish me luck then,” Takahiro said as he started squeezing into the pillar, doing so in such a way that his arms went in first. He wasn’t able to go as fast as his two friends had gone.

Without getting up, Issei watched Takahiro wiggle his way through the hole. “You’ve got this.”

At one point, Takahiro’s legs from the knee down were sticking out one side of the pillar, with his head and arms coming out the other side. Yuda and Suzuki grabbed his hands and pulled him through the rest of the way. 

And that meant it was Issei’s turn. He was a little nervous about getting stuck, like that other boy. But he reminded himself that he and Takahiro had similar frames. Even if he was a little taller, weighed more, and had larger muscles, it shouldn’t make that much of a difference.

Since there was still a line of people waiting behind him, Issei didn’t have time to overthink the situation. He got right down to business, crawling into the pillar on his forearms, with his shoulders as bunched up as possible.

The fit was tight enough to make him feel claustrophobic.

“Come on,” Takahiro said, smiling at Issei from the other side of the pillar. He was squatting down right in front of the opening. “You can do it.”

“I’m regretting this already,” Issei admitted, doing everything he could to squeeze through the hole in the pillar. He felt like it got tighter once he made it to the middle.

As it turned out, he was bulkier than he thought he was—or rather, Takahiro was scrawnier than he realized. His shoulders were getting stuck. It hadn’t been obvious to him that Takahiro just barely made it through, which meant he was going to have a much harder time with it.

The walls seemed to be closing in on him, so he backed out of the pillar, going as fast as he could. Then he walked around it to join his friends, giving a nonchalant shrug. “Well, I guess there’s no health blessing for me.” 

“That’s okay,” Takahiro said, nudging Issei with his elbow. “You can share mine.”

Issei chuckled as they all started walking away. “Thanks, but I don’t think it works that way.”

“Oh, it’s getting late,” Suzuki remarked, having just checked her cell phone. “We’re supposed to meet everyone else at the hotel in less than an hour.”

“I wonder how long it’ll take to get there from here,” Yuda mumbled, pulling a map out of his pocket, though he kept walking as he looked at it. He almost bumped into someone, but Suzuki and Issei grabbed his arms from both sides, moving him out of the way.

“I already memorized the route,” Issei said. “If we go to the bus stop that’s right outside the park, it’ll take around thirty minutes to get to the hotel.”

Takahiro grinned. “It’s just like you to be so prepared.”

“It’ll take us at least twenty minutes to walk to the bus stop from here,” Suzuki noted. “We should get going.”

“I hope the hotel has really hot baths,” Yuda said, holding Suzuki’s hand as they left the main hall. “A nice, long soak is gonna feel great after all this walking.”

Takahiro hummed in agreement and followed his friends. “Yeah, tell me about it. My feet are killing me.”

They all made their way outside, following various pathways and going through a couple of buildings, until they were passing through the large wooden gate that marked the entrance and exit of the temple grounds.

“Are you holding up alright?” Issei asked in a whisper, sticking close to Takahiro, who seemed like he was out of breath. Their friends were a few paces ahead of them. 

“Yeah . . . for the most part,” Takahiro replied, breathily pausing between every few words. “I’m getting pretty . . . tired though.”

It seemed that Takahiro was even more breathless than Issei had originally thought, so he held out his arm. “Wanna hang on to me?”  

Without replying, Takahiro grabbed Issei’s elbow with both hands, like he really needed that support. He was looking especially pale.

“We should sit somewhere for a while,” Issei suggested, his concern coming across in his eyes, though he tried to keep his voice calm. “You need to rest.”

In response, Takahiro shook his head, keeping a firm hold on Issei’s arm. “Nah . . . it’s fine . . . We’re only . . . a few . . . blocks away . . . Can rest . . . on the bus.”

Issei really wanted to insist on finding a place to sit.

However, Takahiro’s tone had been quite stubborn for someone who was particularly out of breath, and Issei didn’t want to argue about it, lest it upset him and worsen his condition. So he just slowed his pace instead, finding that Takahiro didn’t seem to mind that change.

But their friends were already ahead of them—that distance only increased once they weren’t walking as fast.

Thankfully, it didn’t take long for Yuda and Suzuki to realize that they had left the two boys behind, and they were far enough away that they decided to walk back rather than wait.

“Hey, you guys alright?” Yuda asked, briefly studying the way Takahiro was clinging to Issei’s arm. 

“Yeah,” Takahiro replied, his voice coming out soft and breathy. 

“He might be a little dehydrated,” Issei said, covering for Takahiro without having to lie. Drinking water wasn’t something any of them had been consistent about that day.

Upon hearing that, Suzuki and Yuda looked at each other, nodding at the same time. Then they suddenly sprung into action. 

“I’ll be right back,” Yuda said, turning away and hurrying up the street. 

Meanwhile, Suzuki went to Takahiro’s side, taking his arm and pulling him towards a nearby bench. “Let’s go wait over there.”

Takahiro didn’t protest about being led to the bench. Once there, he was forced to sit down between Suzuki and Issei, who was thankful for the assistance, despite how strange and surprising it had been.

After sitting for a few seconds, Takahiro slid down on the bench, leaning his head on the back of it and closing his eyes. It was clearly a relief to be off his feet.

As he stared at his best friend, Issei felt an intense wave of frustration, which was aimed entirely at himself. He wished he would have been more persistent about making Takahiro rest. Even when he knew he needed to get a point across, it was a habit of his to avoid making a fuss, and he didn’t want to be that way. Especially not when it came to the well-being of those he cared about.

A few minutes later, Yuda came back with four water bottles in his arms. He passed one out to everyone before sitting beside Suzuki on the bench. “I don’t think we’ve had anything to drink since we ate at the restaurant.”

Suzuki nodded as she opened her water bottle. “I think you’re right.”

“You know, you’ve reached a new level in your relationship,” Takahiro said, glancing at Suzuki and Yuda after taking a long drink of water. He was no longer breathless enough for it to be noticeable. “Seems like you read each other’s mind back then.”

“Ah, it’s not actually like that,” Yuda said, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “We know you haven’t been feeling good lately. I mean, we don’t know why, ‘cause you haven’t said anything about it.”

“And we’re sure you have a reason for that,” Suzuki added, reaching for Yuda’s hand.

“Yeah, it’s just, sometimes you look like you’re in pain, like maybe you’re about to puke or something,” Yuda continued, acting quite bashful. “And you haven’t been able to make it through practice for months. We’ve been worried about you, so we came up with a few plans about what to do if you got sick on the trip.”

Takahiro was staring at his friends, and his mouth was hanging open a little bit. “You . . . that’s . . . you’ve been . . .” he sputtered, glancing at Issei for help.

“Thanks for being so thoughtful,” Issei said, his tone sincere. He was pretty confident that he and Takahiro were feeling the same way. “And we’re sorry we didn’t say anything about it.”

“It’s fine,” Yuda insisted. “Like Ume-chan said, we’re sure you’ve got your reasons.”

“God, this is making me emotional,” Takahiro said, leaning his head back again and covering his eyes with his arm. Then he nudged at Issei with his leg. “Go ahead and tell ‘em.”

“He’s been having stomach pain for a long time, ever since his grandma passed away,” Issei explained. It was a relief to finally tell someone about what his best friend was going through. “That makes it hard to eat sometimes, so he doesn’t have a lot of energy, and he gets headaches a lot. Oh, and he gets dizzy, usually during practice. That’s why he’s been sitting it out lately.”

“Have you been to a doctor?” Suzuki asked, her brow furrowing in concern as she tucked some hair behind her ear. 

Yuda chimed in right after. “Wait, isn’t your dad a doctor?”

“He’s a pediatrician,” Takahiro replied, still covering his face. 

“That’s pretty cool,” Yuda said. “What did he say about it?” 

There was no reply from Takahiro, so Issei answered for him.

“He hasn’t told him yet.”

Yuda frowned. “Why not?”

Several seconds of silence ticked by, until Takahiro finally gave a response.

“I didn’t wanna have to stop playing volleyball,” he said, sitting up and dropping his arm. Then he stared at his water bottle as he rolled it between his hands. “That, and I didn’t want my parents to get stressed out over nothing. It was really hard for them when my grandma was sick all the time. I just thought . . . well, I didn’t want them to worry about me. And . . . I dunno . . . I was kinda hoping it would go away on its own eventually. It felt like, if I told them, it would mean I’m actually sick, like there’s a real problem . . . I guess I was scared.”

Issei took in everything Takahiro had just shared, and it made his throat tight with emotion. “I didn’t know you were feeling that way.”

“It’s hard to talk about,” Takahiro said, twisting the water bottle in his hands again and again. Then he started peeling the label off. “But now that I’ve said it out loud, it feels kinda silly.”

“It’s not silly to feel scared,” Suzuki murmured, her tone and expression gentle.

“Yeah,” Yuda agreed. “But you know, I think you should tell your dad.”

“I’m planning on it,” Takahiro said, letting out a sigh. “I was gonna tell my parents about it after we graduate.”

“Good,” Yuda said with a slight grin. “I won’t have to worry as much if I know you’re gonna get checked out.”

Takahiro glanced at Yuda and Suzuki, and then he looked at Issei, meeting his gaze for a long time. “I’m sorry you’ve all been worrying about me.”

“That’s what friends do,” Issei said, nudging Takahiro’s arm. 

Yuda reached past Suzuki so that he could pat Takahiro’s knee. “Yeah, it’s totally fine. We just want you to be alright.”

Suzuki nodded. “We care about you.”

“Geez, I’m gonna cry if you guys keep talking like that,” Takahiro said, holding his water bottle between his knees to free his hands. Then he rubbed his palms against his eyes, slapping his thighs afterwards. “Alright! Let’s get to the hotel so we can take those nice, long baths we’ve been looking forward to.”

“Sounds good,” Issei said, helping Takahiro up and linking their arms. 

Yuda held onto Takahiro’s other arm. “First things first, we’ve gotta get to the bus stop.”

“We’ll go slow,” Suzuki promised, taking Yuda’s hand.

And so the four of them made their way to the hotel, taking baths once they got there. They were a little late for dinner, and when they were halfway through eating, Takahiro fell asleep with his head on the table. It had been a long day for him.

They got to explore again the next day, and thanks to being aware of Takahiro’s limitations, Yuda and Suzuki knew exactly how to help support him. They found ways to have fun without overdoing it.

And on the third day, they rode the train home, using that time to write their report so that it was out of the way, which was Suzuki’s idea. 

Issei really enjoyed that entire trip, though the best thing of all was finding out that he wasn’t the only one watching Takahiro’s back. Nothing was better than spending time with people who genuinely cared about each other.

To him, a good friend was worth more than anything else, and he was grateful that he had somehow wound up with three of them.

Chapter Text

On the first day of spring break, Issei slept in until nine, which was quite late for him. And once he finally got himself up, he decided to get his chores out of the way. There was a list of them that he and his siblings were supposed to finish some time over the next two weeks, before the new school year started.

The chore that would be most tiresome was cleaning the hardwood floors throughout the entire house, and he wanted to start with that. So he went into each room, moving things up out of the way and clearing as much floor space as possible. Then he used a dust mop to wipe it all down. 

When that was done, he spent over an hour on his hands and knees, scrubbing the hardwood floors with a damp rag. And then he quickly went over it one more time with some freshly brewed tea, because that’s the method his mother swore by to make the floors nice and shiny. 

Once he felt satisfied with how the floors looked, he went out into his backyard to beat the rug that was usually under the coffee table. Then he brought it back inside and put it in the living room. He needed to vacuum it before he could consider himself finished with his task.

The television was on, because Kazuki, Asami, and Rei were watching Pokémon together, like they had been the entire time Issei was cleaning. They all loved that show. 

Issei got the vacuum out of the closet near the front door and rolled it into the living room. “Heads up, it’s about to be loud.”

Kazuki quickly covered his ears. He was still watching the television, even though he couldn’t hear it over the sound of the vacuum. And he was sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest. That was how he always sat on the couch, taking up the least amount of space possible. 

Asami, on the other hand, had no qualms about stretching out and taking up more than one cushion. She was sitting with one leg over Rei’s lap, and the other hooked over the arm of the couch. She was also slumped over towards Rei, leaning against her. It was hard to believe that she was comfortable like that, and if her father was home, he would have scolded her for sitting in a way that wasn’t ladylike. 

But she had never been able to sit up straight with both feet on the floor—it was practically impossible for her. In less than a minute, she would start squirming, and she would end up pulling one leg up, or hunching over, or curling up in a ball. So being scolded about that kind of thing, whether at school or at home, wasn’t anything new for her. 

And she wasn’t the only one who was scolded on a regular basis. 

Kazuki’s gently waving hair went past his ears, like it had for most of his life, because he hated going to the barber. The sound of clippers bothered him terribly, and the feeling of hair clippings on his neck and face was too much for him to deal with on a regular basis. But his father forced him to keep his hair length above his chin. Whenever it got longer than that, he was dragged off to get a trim, whether he liked it or not. And there was no end to the snide comments from his father about how unkempt his hair looked the rest of the time.

Kazuki had once made a remark to Issei about how it didn’t seem fair that their sister could have hair down past her shoulders, which was easily tied up into a bun or ponytail to keep it out of the way, whereas he was forced to have his hair at a length that always poked at his ears and face. The only consolation that Issei could think to offer was that someday, Kazuki would be an adult, and adults could wear their hair however they wanted. 

As soon as Issei finished vacuuming the rug, Rei hurried to the front door, where she had left her bag. She carried it back over to the couch and unzipped the top of it, showing Asami what was inside.

“Look at this, Ah-chan. My sister gave me some of her old makeup.”

“Whoa, there’s even nail polish,” Asami said, pulling a small glass container from the bag. Then she turned towards Kazuki, who had uncovered his ears when the loud sound of the vacuum went away. “Can I paint your nails?”

After thinking about it for a few seconds, Kazuki shook his head and wrapped his arms around his knees, not looking away from the television screen.

Asami turned to Issei and batted her eyelashes. “Can I paint your nails?”

Issei was in the middle of wrapping up the vacuum cord, and he continued with that as he glanced at his sister. “Why not paint Rei-chan’s nails?”

“Hers are already painted,” Asami replied, wiggling impatiently at the far end of the couch.

As if to confirm, Rei held up her hands, showing off her nails with a proud smile. “My sister painted them last night.”

“Sooooo, can I paint your nails?” Asami repeated as she stood up, unable to keep herself seated any longer. 

Issei hummed thoughtfully, putting the vacuum back in the closet near the front door. His main point of hesitation was not wanting to be stuck wearing nail polish long enough for his father to notice. He used to let Etsu paint his nails now and then when they were younger, and based on the looks his father always gave him upon seeing the results of that, he knew it was something that would only earn him more of his father’s disapproval.

And he was still feeling particularly sensitive about having already lost so much of it. 

“Pretty please,” Asami said, putting her hands together and sticking out her bottom lip. 

“Do you have the stuff that removes it?” Issei asked as he moved the coffee table, which had been against the wall, back to its place in the middle of the rug.

Asami started excitedly pacing around in front of the couch. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure Mom has some!” 

“Well, ‘pretty sure’ isn’t very convincing,” Issei said, stepping back so that he could make sure the coffee table was right where it was supposed to be. Then he looked at his sister. “Go check Mom and Dad’s bathroom. If you find some, I’ll let you paint my nails.”

“Okay!” Asami shouted as she ran towards her parents’ bedroom, which was across from the living room. She swung the door open with a loud bang and hurried inside. 

Then there was a sudden knock on the front door. 

Without waiting for an answer, Takahiro let himself in. His pinkish-brown hair was rather messy, as if he had forgotten to comb it, and he was wearing the loose shirt and basketball shorts that he often slept in. It was likely that he had rolled out of bed and come right over, despite the fact that it was almost noon.

Right as he walked into the living room, he was greeted by his sister.

“You’re just in time,” Rei said, going over to him and pulling him towards the couch. 

“In time for what?” Takahiro asked, sounding skeptical.

“You’ll see,” Rei replied as she made her big brother sit on the couch next to Kazuki, who was still absorbed in his show. 

“Oh, nice.” Takahiro got comfortable once he saw what was playing on the television. “I love this episode.”

Kazuki briefly glanced at Takahiro, cracking a slight grin. “It’s my favorite one.”

“Same here,” Takahiro said as he put his feet up on the coffee table. “You’ve got great taste, kid.”

Hearing that made Kazuki beam with pride, and he leaned against Takahiro’s arm, happily watching the show with him. 

While the television provided distraction, Rei started digging around in her bag, comparing different nail polish colors.

“Watch out,” Issei said as he walked past the couch and headed towards the kitchen, which he was about to deep clean. “She’s gonna try to paint your nails.”

Takahiro looked at Rei, who held up two different bottles of nail polish. One was red and the other was green. 

“Which color do you want?” she asked, shaking each bottle a little bit.

“Hmm, I dunno. Neither of those are gonna work with my outfit,” Takahiro said. “Got any blue?”

“I think so,” Rei replied, putting the two bottles back and digging around in the bag again, until she produced a light blue nail polish. “How’s this?”

“Perfect,” Takahiro said, holding one hand out. “Better make ‘em look nice.”

“I’ll do my best!” Rei promised, giving the bottle a few shakes before twisting it open. 

“Put a towel down before you start,” Issei called from the kitchen, where he was pulling things out of the fridge in order to wipe the shelves down. “Use one of the old ones in the closet.”

Rei went and got a towel from the closet that was near the front door, putting it on Takahiro’s lap. Then she worked on painting his nails. She spent a lot of her free time drawing, so she had good hand control.

Right after that, Asami came out of her parents’ bedroom, holding a bottle of acetone. She brought it to the kitchen and showed it to her older brother. “I found some!”

“Great,” Issei said, briefly glancing at the bottle. “You’re gonna have to wait until I’m done cleaning though.”

“How long is that gonna take?” Asami asked, squirming where she stood, like she was feeling impatient. 

“Not sure,” Issei replied. “An hour, maybe two. I’ve got a lot to do in here.”

“That’s way too long,” Asami said with a pout. “Can’t you hurry?”

Issei was emptying the fridge without any sense of urgency. “If I hurry, I’ll do a sloppy job. Why don’t you do your chores while you wait? It’ll help pass the time.”

“That sounds boring.” Asami turned to leave the kitchen, running back to the living room. 

When she got there, she saw that Rei was painting Takahiro’s nails. “Can I help?”

“I’ve got it,” Rei replied, leaning close to Takahiro’s hand so that she could carefully paint each nail. 

Asami went over to Kazuki, staring at him with a desperate pout. “Can I please paint your nails? It won’t take long, and I’ll clean them off for you later. Please. Please. Please. Pretty please. Please-please-please-please. PLEASE!”

With a resigned sigh, Kazuki held one hand out, keeping his eyes glued to the television. His other hand was busy pinching his nose shut, because he didn’t like the smell of nail polish.

“Thank you!” Asami was grinning wide as she went to pick out a bottle of nail polish, choosing an orange one. 

“Get an old towel first,” Takahiro said, briefly glancing at Asami, who had almost started painting Kazuki’s nails right over the couch cushion. Then he focused on watching the show again, and when something funny happened, he and Kazuki both chuckled. 

It took Issei just under two hours to finish deep cleaning the kitchen, wiping down everything from floor to ceiling. That was the last of his extra chores. All of his effort left him hungry, so he scarfed down a quick snack, making more afterwards so that he could feed his siblings and best friend. Then he went to the living room with a large tray, which was filled with plates of sliced fruit and cheese.  

When he got there, he found an amusing scene waiting for him. 

Takahiro had fallen asleep, leaving an irresistible opportunity for Rei and Asami, both of whom were guiltily avoiding Issei’s gaze as he set the tray of snacks down on the coffee table. 

There was makeup all over Takahiro’s face. Black eyeliner was zig-zagged on his eyelids, sparkly red lip gloss covered his lips, and blush had been messily applied to his cheeks, nose, chin, and forehead.  

“Did he say you could do that?” Issei asked in a serious tone, somehow managing to suppress the laughter that was bubbling up in his chest. 

“Uhm . . .” Rei flashed an innocent smile, which looked a lot like the one her older brother used when he was in trouble, especially because they both had dimples in the same spot. “He didn’t say not to.”

Asami, who was nervously chewing on the collar of her shirt, nodded in agreement.

As for Kazuki, he moved to sit on the floor in front of the coffee table, helping himself to some snacks and keeping his eyes on the television. He wasn’t in the habit of intervening when Asami and Rei got themselves into mischief. What they did was their business, and he stayed out of it as long as they weren’t putting themselves in danger.  

Meanwhile, Issei pulled his phone out of his pocket, taking a close-up picture of Takahiro’s face. It would be something funny to look back on later. Then he stared at Asami and spoke in a calm voice, since he knew she would get emotional if he rebuked her.

“Is this the kind that washes off easily?”

Asami was still chewing on her shirt collar, so her words were muffled as she grabbed the eyeliner she had used, skimming over the label. “Uh . . . it’s . . . oh, it says ‘waterproof’ right here.”

“Well, that makes things a bit more complicated,” Issei said, scratching his chin. “Go look in Mom’s bathroom again and see if she has any makeup removing stuff.”

“Okay!” Asami stopped chewing on her shirt and quickly got to her feet, as if she was eager to cooperate. The only time she ever acted that obedient was when she wanted to avoid getting in trouble. “What’s makeup removing stuff look like?”

“Not sure,” Issei replied. Then he had an idea, so he pulled out his phone again, dialing Etsu’s number. 

She picked up right before it would have gone to voicemail. “Hello?” 

“Can you tell me what makeup removing stuff looks like?” Issei asked, glancing at Takahiro’s poorly decorated face. He couldn’t help cracking a slight grin.

“What are you talking about?” Etsu sounded confused and annoyed. “Is this another prank?”

“No, this is for real,” Issei replied, making sure he came across as genuine as possible. 

There had been a few (dozen or so) incidents the previous year, when he and Takahiro had messed with Etsu by calling her and asking for advice about made-up problems, each one more ridiculous than the last, just to see what she would say. She had been quite irritated at them once she figured it out. In fact, she hadn’t been willing to answer calls from them again until just recently.

“The girls put waterproof eyeliner on Takahiro while he was sleeping,” Issei continued. “And I’m not sure how to get it off.”

“Are you serious?” Etsu asked, sounding slightly amused, though not entirely convinced. 

“Dead serious. He’s still asleep, or else I’d have him vouch for me.” Issei went to sit beside Takahiro, who was sleeping soundly, blissfully unaware of the state his face was in. “Can you please tell me how to get it off?”

It took a few seconds for Etsu to respond. “You’re at your house, right?”

“Yeah,” Issei replied. 

“I’ll come over and help you,” Etsu decided. “Be right there. Oh, and if you’re messing with me again, I’ll make you regret it.”

She hung up right after that, and Issei put his phone away. “Eh-chan’s coming over to help.”

As if the mention of his older sister’s name shocked him into consciousness, Takahiro suddenly lifted his head and opened his eyes, gasping as he woke. Then he smacked his lips together a few times, squinting suspiciously. “Why does my mouth feel sticky? And why do I smell watermelon?”

“Nice of you to finally wake up, Sleeping Beauty,” Issei teased, holding his phone up so that Takahiro could see the picture he had taken. 

“Wow, looks like I had a rough night at the ball,” Takahiro said, eyeing the picture with a wry smile. Then he grabbed the towel that was still on his lap, wiping his mouth and successfully removing most of the lip gloss. He also tried to wipe away the blush and eyeliner with vigorous scrubbing. 

When he was done, he looked at Issei, closing his eyes. “Did I get all of it?”

“No,” Issei replied, running his thumb over Takahiro’s eyelid. “The eyeliner is waterproof . . . and mostly smudge-proof, as it turns out.”

“Lovely,” Takahiro said, getting to his feet very slowly, as if he was still tired.

Then he walked down the hallway and went into the bathroom, washing his face several times. But that didn’t get rid of the eyeliner, so he gave up, coming back to the living room and plopping down on the couch.

“Welp, it’s definitely waterproof. Guess this is my new look for a while.”

A knock sounded at the front door, and Issei went to answer it. “Not necessarily.”

“Well, I’m here,” Etsu announced, stepping inside and scanning the room with a wary gaze. She had a little pack of wipes in one hand and a camera around her neck. “You’re lucky I needed a break from packing.”

“Thanks for coming over so quick,” Issei said as he closed the front door. 

“No problem.” Etsu’s gaze landed on Takahiro, which made her grin mischievously. “My, my, my, look what we have here. You actually need my help after all. And to think, I was half expecting some kind of bullshit jump scare.”

Takahiro stared at his older sister in disbelief. “Wait, so you came over here to help me?”

“That’s right,” Etsu replied, studying Takahiro’s face as her grin grew even wider, and much more mischievous. 

“Why?” Takahiro asked, narrowing his eyes. “And don’t say, ‘out of the goodness of my heart,’ ‘cause we all know you don’t actually have one.”

“I came because I’m such a good sister.” Etsu grabbed her camera, holding it up. “All I want in return is a photo.”

Takahiro crossed his arms. “Of what?” 

“Of the pope’s hairy ass,” Etsu deadpanned, walking closer to the couch and pointing the camera at her brother. 

“No way.” Takahiro put his hands over his face, blocking the shot. That showed off his freshly painted nails. They actually looked quite nice, since Rei had done a good job. “Who knows how you’ll use it, you dirty, scheming blackmailer.”

“It’s not for me, dummy,” Etsu said, handing the wipes to Issei so that she had a free hand, with which she started pulling at Takahiro’s fingers, trying to pry them away from his face. 

“Who’s it for, then?” Takahiro asked as he balled up to protect himself, keeping his hands over his face as best he could. 

After letting out an irritated huff, Etsu gave an equally irritated reply, all while still trying to get a picture of Takahiro’s face by using force. “I wanna give Mom and Dad a present before I leave for college. They love that video of you and Issei laughing as babies, back when I drew on his face. And having a picture of you in a similar situation would probably make them happy.”

Takahiro lifted his head and peeked at his sister from behind his fingers. “For real?”

“Yes,” Etsu replied. “So stop being annoying and let me see your face.”

“In that case, do my makeup better,” Takahiro demanded, dropping his hands, though he held one up to block the camera. “I look ridiculous right now.”

“I’ll go back over it,” Asami offered, holding up the eyeliner. 

“It’s better if it looks ridiculous,” Etsu insisted, grabbing Takahiro’s fingers and bending them backwards, trying to unblock the camera.

“Wait, I’ve got an idea,” Issei said, grinning over the sudden burst of inspiration he had just experienced.

Rei and Kazuki were both eating snacks at the coffee table at this point, but they looked at Issei to hear what he had to say, as did Asami, who had the eyeliner in one hand and a slice of apple in the other. 

“Let’s hear it,” Etsu said, still bending Takahiro’s fingers back, despite how much he was struggling to free himself. She was a lot stronger than she looked.

Issei explained his idea, which was simple. They would remove the eyeliner Takahiro was already wearing, and then they would draw thick eyebrows on each of them, taking a photo together afterwards. That would make the perfect gift. And an extra one could be printed for Yuko, since she would surely appreciate the humor of it. 

Everyone agreed to go along with his plan, and it didn’t take long for them to execute it.

Within twenty minutes, all six of them had extremely ridiculous eyebrows drawn from eyeliner. The difference was most dramatic in Takahiro, Etsu, and Rei, all of whom had thin, light-colored eyebrows. Issei and his siblings had thick, dark eyebrows, just like their father. But still, they all looked amusing nonetheless.

Once they were ready, they set the camera up on the coffee table and squeezed in together on the couch, using the timer to take several photos. They made sure to do a variety of poses and expressions so that they would have a wide selection to choose from. 

Then they cleaned their faces, and Etsu was left in charge of getting the prints made, since they had used her camera. They would give the photos out before the end of spring break.

When the excitement from that died down, Asami remembered that she had wanted to paint Issei’s nails, so he let her get it out of her system. Then he grabbed the bottle of acetone and retreated to his bedroom with Takahiro, who almost fell asleep again while Issei was cleaning his nails off. 

“Were you up late last night?” Issei asked, throwing away the tissues he had used to remove Takahiro’s nail polish.  

“Nah,” Takahiro replied, his eyes fluttering open. He was all sprawled out on the bed. “Went to sleep early, woke up late. Got a solid twelve hours.”

“Plus the hour you slept on the couch earlier,” Issei pointed out as he opened a window, airing out the strong scent of acetone, which was lingering in the room. 

“Oh yeah,” Takahiro said, yawning right after. Then he crawled under the covers and got himself all tucked in. “I’m just super tired today.”

Issei sat on the edge of the bed and studied Takahiro’s face. It was pale, like it had been for many months now. “Did you already tell your parents about what’s been going on with you?”

“Nope, I haven’t told ‘em yet.” Takahiro rolled onto his side so that he could look at Issei with less effort. There were two pillows on the bed, and he tucked one of them under his head, putting the other over it so that he was sandwiched between them. He often did that when he had a headache. His face was still visible though, so he gave Issei a reassuring smile. “I’m gonna tell them this weekend. That way, my dad won’t be hearing about it after a long day at work.”

Issei frowned. It was currently Wednesday, and he didn’t think they should put it off any longer. “Are you sure you wanna wait?” 

“Yeah, it’ll be fine,” Takahiro insisted, closing his eyes again. “A few more days won’t make a difference.”

With a very soft sigh, Issei turned his attention to cleaning his nails off. He would feel a lot better about everything once Takahiro finally talked to his parents.

It was the third day of spring break, and Issei was reading manga on his bed. He had only woken up an hour earlier, right around noon, because he stayed up most of the night reading three other new books in the series he was working on. They had all been released together, so he had no choice but to binge them. 

There was a knock on his door, and he spoke without looking up, expecting it to be one of his siblings. “Come in.”

“Oh, cool,” Takahiro said, stepping into the room. “You got the new ones already.”

“My mom got them for me yesterday. This is the last one,” Issei said, glancing at Takahiro with a grin. Then he nodded towards the stack of books on his desk. “The others are over there.”

Takahiro grabbed one of the manga and climbed onto the bed, planting his butt between Issei’s knees and lying down, making himself comfortable. Then he stuck his feet in Issei’s armpits. 

Without taking his eyes off his reading, Issei adjusted his arms so that he was gently squeezing Takahiro’s feet, which were really cold. It wasn’t the first time that his best friend had used his armpits as foot warmers.

The two of them read quietly for a few minutes, and Issei was completely absorbed in his book. It was getting to a really exciting part. But there were only a few pages left, and he was sure it was going to end on a cliffhanger. So he was savoring each page, reading it slowly to take in every single panel, memorizing the words and expressions of each character.

“By the way, I passed out in the bath today.” Takahiro’s tone was casual, like he was commenting on the weather, and he kept his gaze on the open book that was in front of his face. “Hit the wall and everything.”

Issei immediately stopped reading and lifted his head, staring down at Takahiro with a worried frown. “Are you okay?”

“Seems like I am, doesn’t it?” 

“Takahiro.”

“Now, now, don’t get yourself all worked up,” Takahiro said, closing the book he was holding and setting it aside. Then he put his hands behind his head to lift it, making it easier for him to look at Issei from the far end of the bed. “I’m obviously fine, or I wouldn’t have come over.”

“Did you tell your dad?” Issei asked, still staring at Takahiro, who seemed rather unconcerned.

“Not yet,” Takahiro replied, tickling Issei’s armpits with his toes. “He’s at work.”

Issei tightly squeezed Takahiro’s feet with his arms to stop him from messing around. “Did you tell your mom?”

Takahiro shook his head, still looking more calm than was fitting for the situation. “Thought I’d tell you first.”

“Oh yeah, that makes sense,” Issei deadpanned, squeezing Takahiro’s iceberg feet against himself even harder, since Takahiro kept trying to tickle him. “Instead of telling your mom, a responsible adult, or your dad, a literal doctor, you should always come to your best friend, a person of average intelligence.” 

“I’d argue that your intelligence is above average,” Takahiro said, with an impish smile playing on his lips. 

Issei sat up, and so did Takahiro, which brought them face to face, just a short distance apart. Their legs were still overlapping, but the way they were sitting didn’t feel uncomfortable. “What exactly happened in the bath?”

“Not a whole lot,” Takahiro replied, shrugging and glancing away. “I was just soaking in the hottest water my skin could tolerate, as one does.”

There was a long moment of silence, and Issei got impatient. “Then what happened?”

“When I stood up to get out, things went black for a second,” Takahiro continued, looking at Issei again, but only briefly. He couldn’t meet his gaze for long. “Then I fell back into the water—which cushioned my fall nicely, I might add. Made a huge mess though.”

“Holy shit,” Issei said, picturing how awful that must have been. “Did anyone come help you?”

“Nah.” Takahiro started picking at a loose string that was on the seam of his shorts. “I don’t think anyone heard the bang of my head hitting the wall.”

Issei’s stomach twisted into a big bundle of anxiety. “What happened after that?”

“My vision came back, so I drained the water and tried getting up again,” Takahiro replied, still focused on picking at the string, which was causing the seam next to his pocket to come loose. “Worked like a charm that time.”

“You need to tell your dad. Right now,” Issei insisted, his voice much firmer than he meant for it to be, since he was internally freaking out. But then he reeled in his emotions and spoke in a softer, more casual tone. “Seriously, I think you should call him.”

“I’d rather tell him in person. He’ll be home in, like, five hours,” Takahiro muttered, lying back down and hugging Issei’s feet against his chest on either side. “Blacking out kinda scared me, y’know? That’s why I came over to see you.”

Issei stared at Takahiro, who was relaxing between his legs nonchalantly, like he hadn’t just been in a particularly dangerous situation. But he had noticed the worry in his best friend’s eyes, and he could see the tension that was being held in his shoulders and jaw.

“I’m glad you’re okay.”

Takahiro smiled, though it wasn’t a very happy one. And he still wouldn’t meet Issei’s gaze for more than a few seconds at a time. “What if I’m, like, really sick? What if . . . what if I’m . . .” He dragged his thumb across his throat and made a ripping sound.

“What if the sun falls out of the sky tomorrow?” Issei untangled his and Takahiro’s legs so that he could stretch out next to him. Seeing all of that hidden anxiety in someone else was making him feel more level headed, like his mind was kicking into Comfort Mode, instead of being stuck in Freak Out Mode. “We’re not supposed to worry about stuff we can’t control, remember?”

Takahiro snorted. “You’re really gonna throw that in my face? Me, the guy who nearly died in his own bathtub less than an hour ago?”

“You’re the one who said it first,” Issei said, rolling onto his side so that he could stare at his best friend. He was still really worried about him, but he was trying not to acknowledge it anymore, because he didn’t want to make the situation more stressful by expressing the full extent of his concerns. “And now that I think about it, ignoring the stuff we can’t control might actually be a good philosophy—except when it comes to things like this.”

Takahiro sighed, running his fingers through his hair, which he had been growing out for a while. It was the longest it had been since he was a young child, with his bangs reaching past his eyes. That length made his reddish-pink highlights easier to see, especially under the light of the window that was above the side of the bed. 

“I thought if I just kept ignoring all of it, I wouldn’t have to deal with it,” he admitted, twisting a strand of hair between his fingers.

“That’s an effective strategy,” Issei said, watching Takahiro continue to anxiously mess with his hair. “Right up until it’s not.”

“I think we’ve finally reached that point.” Takahiro rolled towards Issei, wrapping his arms around him. He sounded more playful than upset, which was a good sign, all things considered. As long as he was able to joke around, he was doing alright emotionally. “Hold me and tell me everything’s gonna be alright.”

“There there,” Issei said in a lighthearted tone, patting Takahiro’s back. “Everything’s gonna be just fine.”

Another knock sounded on the bedroom door just then, and since Issei’s parents were at work, it had to be one of his siblings. 

“Come in,” Issei said as he sat up on one elbow, keeping his other arm draped over Takahiro’s body.

The door creaked open, and Kazuki stepped into the room. He was fidgeting with his fingers, and his eyes were darting around, like he couldn’t look at anything for more than a second at a time. 

“What’s wrong?” Issei asked, sitting all the way up. 

Kazuki put a hand to his throat, trying to show that he couldn’t talk right then. It was like that when he was upset. Even though he could easily talk to those he was comfortable with now, intense emotions always locked his words away. 

Takahiro rolled over and reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone and offering it to Kazuki. “Wanna type it out?”

With a nod, Kazuki stepped closer, taking Takahiro’s phone. He clicked on the keypad until he had gotten out what he needed to say. And then he handed the phone over to Issei, who looked at the screen and read the message.

Asami locked me out of her room. She’s crying. Worried about her.

“I’ll go talk to her,” Issei said, handing the phone to Takahiro and climbing over him to get off the bed. 

Kazuki nodded appreciatively, though he still seemed rather unsettled. 

At that point, Takahiro sat up and offered his phone to Kazuki again. “If you want, you can play a game while you wait. I’ve got Tetris and Pac-Man.”

Issei watched Kazuki sit down on the bed and take the phone. Then he walked out of the room, going down the hallway to Asami’s bedroom door. He knocked on it and waited for an answer. 

There wasn’t one, so he pressed his ear against the door. But he couldn’t hear anything. 

After a moment of consideration, he used the key that was on top of the doorframe to unlock the door, opening it just a crack so that he could listen more clearly. He was able to hear muffled crying. Then he peeked his head in, but he couldn’t see Asami’s feet sticking out from between the dresser and the wall, so he figured she was under the bed. 

“Hey,” he said in a gentle voice. “Can I come in?”

He listened intently for a few seconds, but there was no response, and he could still hear the muffled sound of crying. It didn’t seem like his sister was under the bed though—the crying wasn’t coming from that area. So he stepped into the room and followed the quiet sounds until he was standing in front of the closet. 

And then he knocked a few times. “Hey, can I open the door?”

Asami didn’t respond.

“Did something happen?” Issei asked, squatting down in front of the closet. 

At that point, Asami slid one of the closet doors open, just enough so that she could see out. Then she sniffled and stared at Issei with a quivering chin, looking like she couldn’t get her words out without crying. 

Issei opened the door further, crawling into the closet and sitting beside his sister, even though it was cramped in there. Then he closed the door again, leaving them in darkness. “Did you have a fight with Rei-chan?”

Asami said nothing.

“Did you and Kazu have a fight?”

There was still no reply.

“Did you accidentally break something again?”

More silence.

“Did you lose something?”

No answer was given.

It wasn’t like Asami to avoid venting her feelings, so Issei was quite perplexed. “Can you give me a hint about what’s wrong?”

Asami suddenly began sobbing, leaning her face against Issei’s shoulder. 

He didn’t say anything after that. He just wrapped an arm around his sister, pulling her into a side hug. 

They sat there in the dark closet, until Asami finally calmed down. 

“Ready to talk about it?” Issei asked, opening the door a little bit, just enough to let in some light to see by.

After sniffling, Asami grabbed an old shirt and wiped her face. Then she spoke in a tight voice. “It’s on my desk.” 

Issei opened the closet door all the way and got up, walking over to the desk, which was very cluttered. But on top of the mess, there was a piece of paper that was near a recently opened envelope. He picked it up and skimmed it over.

It was her final report card for the previous year. 

Unfortunately, she had gotten bad marks in almost every class. 

“Ah,” Issei said, unsure of what to say to comfort his sister.

Likely as not, she would still get to move on to the next grade, since that was how elementary schools tended to work. Grades weren’t as important until the high school entrance exam. But still, he knew that failing so many classes must have been rather discouraging.

“Did you tell Mom yet?”

Asami shook her head as she crawled out of the closet, sniffling again. “I’m afraid she’s gonna tell Dad.”

Issei set the paper back down on the desk. Then he went to sit on the floor, facing Asami, who was slumped over just outside the closet. “You don’t want him to know?”

“He’s gonna be . . . gonna be . . . when he finds out, he’s gonna be mad. And when he gets mad at me . . . it always . . . it . . .” She pressed a closed fist to her chest. “It hurts really bad, right here. Like . . . it’s like I’m getting stabbed.”

Issei didn’t say anything, because it seemed like his sister wasn’t done talking yet. But he had seen how pained she looked when getting scolded by their father. He could only imagine what it must be like to constantly deal with that, since he was almost never spoken to in that way. 

“He always says I’m not trying,” Asami continued in a shaking voice, her eyes filling with tears again. “But I am. I’m trying all the time. I’m always trying my best. I just don’t . . . I don’t . . . I don’t always understand.” She started gesturing in front of herself, as if searching the air for what she wanted to say, like her thoughts were floating around and getting all jumbled up. “Sometimes I get so . . . so . . . I get . . . confused, like when my teacher talks for a long time. Everyone else, they understand her. I’m the only one who asks a lot of questions. And I think . . . I think she doesn’t like answering them.”

Issei hummed softly. “I didn’t know you were having such a hard time at school.”

“It’s always been like this,” Asami said with a sniffle. “No one ever cares.”

After giving it some brief consideration, Issei decided on what he should do. “When school starts again, I’ll help you study a few nights a week, depending on what my volleyball schedule is like.”

“Really?” Asami asked, looking at Issei with watery eyes. 

“Yeah,” Issei said, holding up a pinky. “That’s a promise.”

Asami hooked her pinky finger around Issei’s, and they shook on it. “Thank you!”

“When you tell Mom about your grades, let her know I’m gonna help you study,” Issei said, patting the top of Asami’s head. “And you know, if you ask her, I bet she’d be willing to keep it from Dad.”

Asami sounded hopeful. “You think so?”

“Yeah, no doubt about it,” Issei said, giving an encouraging nod. “She’ll have your back.”

There was a significant shift in Asami’s demeanor, and she suddenly seemed much more like her usual self. She got up and cleared her throat as she headed for the bedroom door. “I’m gonna make a whole bunch of noodles. Want me to bring you some?”

“Sure,” Issei said, following her out of the room. “Takahiro’s here right now, so he’ll probably want some too.”

“Okay!” Asami shouted, racing down the hallway. “Let’s have a picnic in the backyard! Oh, I’ll invite Rei-chan!”

After watching her disappear around the corner, Issei went back to his room, where Kazuki was sitting on the edge of the bed, still playing games on Takahiro’s phone. And it wasn’t much of a surprise that Takahiro had fallen asleep. Naps happened frequently for him as of late, and he looked so cozy that Issei couldn’t resist lying down next to him, slowly drifting off to the sounds of Kazuki playing Pac-Man. 

Later that day, Issei went with Takahiro to his house, and they waited for Mr. Hanamaki to get home from work. 

In all the many years since Mr. Hanamaki and Misumi—and Yuko, who lived with them until she met her husband—had moved from Tokyo to Miyagi, he had never worked late, and he never worked on weekends. That was one of the perks that came with co-owning a business. 

The main reason he chose to open his own doctor’s office, doing so alongside an older mentor and some people who attended medical school with him, was because he wanted to spend lots of time with Misumi, which had been difficult to achieve when they first met each other. He was a college student at the time, and she started working at a coffee shop that was up the street from his campus shortly after she graduated from high school. Needless to say, that’s where they met, and he studied there often after that, charming her with his cheesy jokes and sincere intentions.

The second reason he wanted to open his own office, rather than work for a hospital or some other clinic, was because he wanted to be an involved father once he had children. That meant he needed the ability to set his own hours. 

And so, from the time he first began his career as a pediatrician, he worked five days a week, leaving the house at a quarter past seven in the morning and returning at half past six in the evening. That was his routine, and he rarely ever deviated from it. 

As per usual, he got home that day at half past six. 

Takahiro waited for his father to settle into being home, and then he and Issei went downstairs, going over to the dining room. 

His parents were cooking together in the kitchen. Although, to be more accurate, they were actually holding each other and flirting, which meant progress was at a standstill when it came to dinner. They had just finished giggling over an inside joke from when they first started dating.

Without seeming to notice that they had an audience, Misumi and Mr. Hanamaki shared several tender kisses, causing Issei to look away awkwardly.

And then Takahiro cleared his throat to get their attention. 

Misumi, who had her arms resting on her husband’s shoulders, glanced over with a raised eyebrow. “You know, we’re allowed to have intimate moments in our own house. No one’s forcing you to watch.”

“I don’t have a problem with it,” Takahiro said, leaning his elbows on the long counter that separated the dining room and the kitchen. He was wearing a sarcastic grin. “If you guys wanna be all mushy instead of making dinner, that’s your business. Who cares if your children starve.”

Mr. Hanamaki chuckled as he stepped out of his wife’s embrace. “If you’re that hungry, you could help out a bit. I’ve actually been meaning to teach you this recipe. It’s my mother’s curry . . . She taught me how to make it when I was about your age.”

“Maybe some other time,” Takahiro said, rubbing the side of his neck. Then he sunk lower onto the counter, resting his chin on it and spreading his arms out. He looked weary and deflated.

Issei was worried that Takahiro wasn’t going to say what needed to be said, so he came to stand right beside him, leaning on the counter and nudging him with his hip.

“I know, I know. Don’t rush me,” Takahiro muttered, still drooping over. He cleared his throat again and lifted his head up. “We wanna talk to you guys about something. That is, if you have a few minutes to spare.”

Mr. Hanamaki and Misumi glanced at each other. They both pursed their lips, like they were trying not to smile. 

And then Misumi looked at her son, speaking in a playful voice. “I thought I was supposed to hurry up and make dinner so my children don’t starve. But if you think you’ll make it, I’d love to hear you out.”

Mr. Hanamaki nodded, leaning on the counter across from the two boys. “We’re all ears.”

“The thing is, uh . . .” Takahiro cleared his throat once again. “It’s, uh, this thing I need to tell you.”

“Right,” Misumi said, coming over to lean on the counter beside her husband. “We’ve established that.”

“You don’t have to be nervous,” Mr. Hanamaki added, giving a supportive smile. Then he nodded at the dining room table, which was behind Issei and Takahiro. “Should we go sit down?”

“That’s actually a great idea,” Takahiro said, turning around so he could shuffle over to the table, seeming a little unsteady on his feet. 

Issei hurried to Takahiro’s side, holding onto his arm until they were at the table, where they sat down beside each other. 

Mr. Hanamaki and Misumi came over and sat opposite of them. 

Then they all stared at each other, until Misumi broke the silence. 

“I hope we’ve never given you the impression that we wouldn’t accept everything about you,” she said. “You don’t have to hide stuff from us.”

“Ah, right.” Takahiro let out an awkward chuckle as he drummed his fingers on the table. “Would you be mad, though, if I hid something from you for like, a super long time?”

“Of course not,” Mr. Hanamaki promised. “I know it’s hard to talk about certain things with your parents. But like your mother said, we’ll always accept everything about you.”

“I don’t know why this is so hard to say,” Takahiro said, slumping down in his chair. Then he looked at Issei, poking at his arm. “Maybe you should do it.”

Issei met Takahiro’s gaze. “I will, if you want me to.”

“Ah, no, I should do it myself,” Takahiro decided, sitting up taller and taking a deep breath.

Mr. Hanamaki and Misumi glanced at each other again, holding back their smiles. It seemed they were expecting better news than they were about to get.

“I’ve been having some . . . problems for a while,” Takahiro explained, crossing his arms as he spoke. “Health problems.”

Mr. Hanamaki raised his eyebrows in surprise, and Misumi’s mouth twisted into a worried frown. 

“Not, like, anything too concerning,” Takahiro quickly added. 

“Hey,” Issei interjected, nudging Takahiro with his knee. 

“Fine, it’s kinda concerning,” Takahiro admitted, uncrossing his arms and stretching them across the table, reaching for where his mother’s hands were folded in front of her. 

Misumi took both of Takahiro’s hands, holding them gently. Her voice was calm, though there was confusion and concern laced into it, coming through just enough to be noticeable. “Care to elaborate?” 

After a moment of reluctance, Takahiro listed out his symptoms. 

Mr. Hanamaki suddenly got up and dashed out of the room, coming back with a pen and a pad of paper. He had switched from Father to Doctor, and his son was now his patient. “How long has this been going on?”

“Uh,” Takahiro looked up, trying to remember. 

“Since our second year of middle school,” Issei said. “The stomach pain started right after Grandma passed away, but the dizzy spells started happening later, during the summer. None of it was too bad at first. It all started getting worse this past year.”

“Good thing he’s got you keeping track of it,” Misumi said, still holding Takahiro’s hands. She was running her thumbs along his knuckles. Even though she was obviously trying not to be outwardly angry or fretful, the worry in her words revealed how upset she felt. “But really, why didn’t you boys tell us about this sooner?”

“I’m sorry for not saying anything,” Issei said, looking down at his lap. Disappointing her was almost as bad as disappointing his father. Her opinion meant a lot to him.

“I made him promise to keep it a secret,” Takahiro added. “I didn’t wanna be cut from the volleyball team.”

Mr. Hanamaki sighed softly, setting down his pen and notepad. “I can see why you’d be concerned about that. You’ve worked hard at volleyball, and I’ve been really impressed with how you’re following through with it . . . However, don’t you think it would’ve been terrible for your teammates if you passed out during a game?”

“I haven’t really passed out more than a few times,” Takahiro mumbled, glancing away from his father and letting go of his mother’s hands, which allowed him to cross his arms again. “During games, I just get a little dizzy towards the end, and Issei was keeping an eye on me.”

“I’m glad he was willing to do that for you,” Misumi said as she looked from Takahiro to Issei, giving him a small grin. “But watching out for your friend’s health during a game seems like a huge responsibility. One that might’ve been a little inconsiderate, don’t you think?”

Issei glanced at Takahiro, who shifted guiltily in his seat. “I don’t mind watching out for him.”

“First thing tomorrow morning, we’ll go to the hospital and get some blood work done,” Mr. Hanamaki said, writing something on his notepad. His demeanor was kind and reassuring. Thanks to many years of practicing his bedside manner, he knew how to keep his patients calm. “There’s a few tests we can do while we’re there, and depending on what we find, we might need to get the opinion of a specialist. But it’s most likely something minor. Have you been drinking enough water, kiddo?”

Takahiro shrugged. “What’s ‘enough water’ mean, exactly?” 

“Probably more than you’ve been drinking,” Issei remarked, nudging Takahiro with his elbow.

“You need at least eight glasses a day, and that’s when you’re not active,” Mr. Hanamaki said. “On the days you have practice or games, you need to add extra fluids, including electrolytes.” 

“That’s a lot to keep track of,” Takahiro said, slouching in his chair. “Knowledge is a burden.”

“We’ll get you a new water bottle with measurements on it,” Mr. Hanamaki decided, writing something else down on his notepad. 

“Make sure it’s nice and colorful,” Takahiro said, leaning his elbows on the table. “That way, I won’t lose it.”

Issei grinned slightly, thinking about how Takahiro’s bedroom could use a proper cleaning. It had been growing increasingly cluttered over the past several months. He offered to help on many different occasions, but Takahiro, due to his fatigue and stomach pain, always said he would just do it later. And later never seemed to arrive. 

“Well, I’d better get dinner started,” Misumi said as she stood up. Before walking away from the table, she looked at Takahiro, studying his face. “Do you feel like you can eat, or is your tummy hurting right now?”

“I could eat,” Takahiro said, patting his stomach like a drum. “I’m actually feeling pretty hungry. Wasn’t joking about your kids starving, y’know.” 

Misumi hummed and went to the kitchen, getting a kettle of water started for tea, which she always served with dinner. Then she gathered more ingredients, since she hadn’t gotten everything out earlier on.

“I’m going to help your mother,” Mr. Hanamaki said, getting to his feet. But then he went over to Takahiro and gently put a hand on the top of his head, speaking in a sincere voice. “Thanks for telling us about what’s going on with you. We’ll get to the bottom of it, alright?”

Takahiro sighed with exaggerated dramatics. “I sure hope so, ‘cause Issei’s been a nervous wreck ever since I told him about passing out this morning.”

“You’re the one who’s been grinding your teeth all day,” Issei said, wondering how nervous he had actually seemed, since he had been trying to hide it for Takahiro’s sake. “You only do that when you’re anxious.”

“Those are false accusations. Completely slanderous,” Takahiro said, looking up at his father with a lazy grin as he began to ramble, which was another thing he sometimes did when he was anxious. “As you know, I’m never anxious. I could face a charging bull head-on. I could pull children from a burning building and make it look easy. I could wrestle an alligator while reciting poetry. I’m the definition of cool, calm, and collected. Ready for any situation at a moment’s notice.”

“It’s okay to feel a little anxious sometimes, kiddo.” Mr. Hanamaki ruffled Takahiro’s hair. “Doesn’t make you less of a person. And if it feels like too much to handle, that just means you need to lean on your loved ones.”

Issei patted his shoulder. “You can lean on me any time.”

“Shucks, what a good friend,” Takahiro said as he theatrically plopped his head down on Issei’s shoulder. “You’re gonna make me cry.”

“That’s not a bad idea,” Mr. Hanamaki said, walking towards the kitchen. “Have yourself a good cry and release all those stress hormones.”

Once they were alone at the table, Issei poked at Takahiro’s forehead. “So, you gonna cry on my shoulder now?”

“Let’s save that for a rainy day,” Takahiro joked as he got up and left the table. “Come on, let’s find something to do while we wait for dinner.”

Issei followed Takahiro out of the dining room, and they went upstairs together. But they heard uncontrollable giggling when they were walking past Rei’s room, so Takahiro paused next to the door, putting his ear to it. 

“What’s up?” Issei asked, copying Takahiro’s actions. 

“I thought she was crying,” Takahiro said. Then he knocked on the door. “But she’s just laughing, and I wanna know what’s so funny.”

“Who is it?” Rei called from inside her room. 

“A big, scary, stinky ogre,” Takahiro replied, making his voice deeper. 

Rei opened the door a moment later, looking at her older brother with mock horror. “You’re the ugliest ogre I ever saw!”

“The ugliest?” Takahiro elbowed Issei’s arm. “What about this ogre?”

Rei shifted her gaze to Issei, studying him like she was deeply considering the question. Then she answered matter-of-factly. “You’re right, he’s even uglier.”

“Ouch,” Issei said, putting a hand to his chest. “I think my heart just broke.”

“Don’t worry, we can glue it back together,” Takahiro teased, peeking around Rei to scan her room. “What’s got you so entertained in here?”

“I was working on my drawings,” Rei replied, going over to where there were approximately twenty papers scattered across the hardwood floor. There were also stacks of paper all around the room, most notably on her desk, where there was no available space to work. “It’s a scary story, but I put some comedic relief into this part.”

“Comedic relief?” Takahiro sauntered into the room with his hands on his hips, looking down at the papers on the floor. “Where does a nine-year-old learn a term like that?”

“The internet. And you know, I’m almost ten,” Rei pointed out. Then her eyes lit up with excitement, as did her features. She still tended to be a quiet child, that is, unless she was talking about something she liked doing, such as drawing. “I’ve been watching videos about making manga. I think I could do that someday, like as a job. It would be really fun!”

Issei came into the room and squatted down, examining the various drawings that were spread out all over the place. He read a few different scenes, some of which were a little disturbing. 

Then he found the comedic relief scene and started laughing. “You know, that’s actually pretty funny!”

“Where?” Takahiro asked, draping himself over Issei’s back so that he could look past his shoulder. Once he found what Issei had seen, he snorted and looked at his little sister with a proud smile, which made his dimples show. “You’ve got some real talent, kid. Give it another ten years, and you’ll be ready to publish something.”

Rei smiled wide, making her own dimples appear. She and her brother always looked the most alike when they were smiling. “You really think so?” 

“I’d bet my allowance on it,” Takahiro said, sitting down on the floor and leaning back on his hands, trying to get comfortable. “You look like you’re gonna burst if you keep holding back your excitement, so go ahead and tell us about your story.”

Once given permission, Rei launched into a detailed explanation of her ideas, starting with her current one, which actually had a rather interesting storyline. She had clearly put a lot of thought into it. And by the time she was done talking about all the different characters, Misumi called everyone down for dinner. 

Issei had been sitting beside Takahiro as they listened to Rei’s excited rambling, but before he had a chance to stand up, Takahiro wrapped his arms around his shoulders from behind. 

“Carry me downstairs?”

“Why should I?” Issei asked, not moving to stand yet. 

“I’m super tired,” Takahiro replied, forcing a yawn for emphasis. “And I’m kinda dizzy.”

Issei glanced over his shoulder so that he could get a good look at Takahiro’s face. “Are you being serious, or are you just milking it?”

Takahiro smirked endearingly. “Both.”

With a playful click of his tongue and a shake of his head, Issei stood up, holding Takahiro on his back. “Alright, but just this once.”

Rei had been distracted with getting all her papers organized, and then she finally saw what the two boys were doing. “I want a piggy-back ride too!”

“You’ll have to wait your turn,” Takahiro said. “Issei can come back for you after he takes me downstairs.”

“Gee, thanks for volunteering me,” Issei deadpanned, walking out of the room. “This must be what those ponies at birthday parties feel like.”

He almost ran into Etsu in the hallway.

“Gross,” Takahiro said, pointing at his older sister. “There’s the real ugliest ogre.”

“Oh yeah? Did you just see yourself in a mirror?” Etsu skirted past the boys so that she could go down the stairs first. But she paused to look at Rei, who was standing in the doorway of her room with her hands behind her back, waiting patiently for her promised piggyback ride. “Want me to carry you?”

Rei nodded, running over to her older sister. “Okay!”

“It’s not safe to carry people down the stairs unless you’re strong enough to handle it,” Takahiro lectured, reaching out to poke Etsu’s arm. “And you know, I don’t recall you ever offering to carry me anywhere.”

Etsu squatted down, letting Rei climb onto her back. “That’s ‘cause you’re annoying.”

“He’s not annoying,” Rei said, coming to Takahiro’s defense as she wrapped her arms around Etsu, who lifted her up with relative ease. 

“At least, not all the time,” Issei remarked with a wry smile. 

“Traitor.” Takahiro squeezed his arms around Issei’s neck, just hard enough for it to be uncomfortable. “Whose side are you on?”

“Whose back are you on?” Issei retorted, wiggling his shoulders. “I’m not gonna carry you if you choke me.”

Takahiro loosened his grip. “Fine, I forgive you for colluding with the enemy.”

Etsu rolled her eyes at them. Then she turned, heading down the stairs with her sister on her back. Even though Rei was a heavy child, Etsu worked out religiously, so she was as strong as she was lean. Hers was the kind of strength that would take most people by surprise.

In fact, she was probably as strong as Takahiro was, if not stronger, considering his current condition. She might even beat him at an arm wrestling match, if ever she deemed that a worthy use of her time.

After letting Etsu go first, Issei carried Takahiro downstairs, doing so very carefully. It would have been a painful disaster if he were to trip, taking the girls out on his way down. And once he was on the first floor of the house, he took Takahiro all the way to the table, setting him in a chair and sitting beside him. 

“Were you feeling dizzy?” Misumi asked, setting a plate of curry and rice in front of both boys.  

“A little bit,” Takahiro replied, making himself look extra pitiful. 

Misumi stared at him for a long moment, with concern in her eyes. Then she reached out to feel his forehead. 

“I’m fine now,” Takahiro said, gently pushing his mother’s hand away. “You don’t have to fuss over me.”

“I’m your mother,” Misumi pointed out. “It’s my job to fuss over you.”

“It’s not like I’m dying,” Takahiro said. But then he sighed dramatically. “At least, as far as we know.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Misumi chided, pinching Takahiro’s cheek and wiggling his face around.

Mr. Hanamaki walked into the room just then, bringing plates for Etsu and Rei, who had both found a seat at the table. “Stomach pain and fainting are fairly common symptoms. More often than not, it’s nothing serious.”

“You’ve been fainting?” Etsu asked, staring at Takahiro from across the table. “Wait . . . was that why I heard a big boom in the bathroom this morning?”

“You heard that, and you didn’t come check on me?” Takahiro pressed a hand to his chest, acting like he was deeply offended. “I could’ve drowned in there.”

Panic immediately filled Rei’s eyes. “You almost drowned?!” 

“Nah, I was totally fine,” Takahiro said with a reassuring smile, though he narrowed his eyes at Etsu right afterwards. “No thanks to you.”

“Am I supposed to barge into the bathroom every time you make a weird noise in there?” Etsu asked, her tone sarcastic. 

“You could’ve at least knocked on the door when you heard the sound of my head smashing against the wall,” Takahiro snapped. 

“I’m not gonna monitor you while you’re in the bath,” Etsu retorted. “God knows what I’d hear.”

“We don’t need to discuss private habits over dinner,” Misumi said, coming to sit at the end of the table, with Takahiro on one side of her seat and Etsu on the other. 

“You should probably avoid taking hot baths and showers for the time being,” Mr. Hanamaki said, taking his place at the head of the table. “Heat might’ve been what made you pass out.”

Takahiro frowned. “What, am I supposed to take cold showers?” 

“No,” Mr. Hanamaki replied. “Just stick with lukewarm.”

“That’s sounds like torture,” Takahiro grumbled, picking up some rice with his chopsticks. 

Meanwhile, Rei was still looking rather concerned. “When did he pass out?”

“This morning,” Misumi said as she added some lemon juice to her tea. 

“Couldn’t have been that bad,” Etsu noted, picking up her chopsticks and stirring her curry around. “He went to Issei’s house right after.”

Takahiro was in the middle of chewing, but that didn’t stop him from speaking. “Yeah, well just so you know, I almost passed out twice while I was walking over there.” 

“You didn’t tell me that earlier,” Issei said, glancing at Takahiro with a slight frown. He hated the thought of his best friend falling on the sidewalk, especially when no one was around to help him. 

“Ah . . . I didn’t want you to worry,” Takahiro mumbled, like he hadn’t meant to let that little detail slip. Then he shoveled a huge bite of rice into his mouth to avoid saying anything else. 

Issei wasn’t the only one who looked upset after hearing that new revelation. Misumi’s brow was furrowed with concern, Mr. Hanamaki’s mouth was twisted thoughtfully, and Rei was chewing at her bottom lip. 

“So it wasn’t necessarily heat that was making the dizziness happen,” Mr. Hanamaki said. “Or maybe it was, but there’s other factors at play.” He paused, tapping a finger against his cheek. “Hmm . . . I wonder if you have low blood pressure. When we’re done eating, I’ll check it for you.”

“Are you sick like Grandma was?” Rei asked, staring at Takahiro as her chin quivered and her eyes filled with tears. 

“He’s got something going on,” Misumi said, her voice calm and comforting. “But he’s going to be fine.”

To help distract his daughter, Mr. Hanamaki changed the subject. “So, you boys are starting high school soon. What a big milestone! How are you feeling about it?”

Takahiro shrugged. 

And beside him, Issei only grinned, because he didn’t want to talk with his mouth full. 

“Do you already know the route you’ll be taking to get there?” Misumi asked.

“Yeah,” Takahiro replied. “It’ll be a forty-five minute walk.”

“Oh wow, that’s rough,” Mr. Hanamaki said. “You boys are already out late enough thanks to practice.”

“I’m glad you’re not going to my high school,” Etsu interjected.

“Why?” Takahiro asked, smirking. “Afraid we’re gonna be way more popular than you were?”

Etsu rolled her eyes. 

“And hey, it’s not even your high school anymore,” Takahiro continued in a taunting manner. “You’re gonna be Tokyo’s problem now.”

Meanwhile, Issei silently worked on his food. He liked the way it felt to be at Takahiro’s house—even if that meant listening to the harmless bickering that often happened between the eldest two children of the Hanamaki family. Their house had always been a second home to him. A place where he could be himself, enjoy good company, and escape from the pressure of the unspoken expectations that were always hovering over him at his own house. 

When everyone was done eating, Issei and Takahiro went upstairs, hanging out in his bedroom as they let their food settle. Takahiro was only able to eat half of his dinner due to a stomach ache, and he grumbled about it until Issei rubbed his shoulders to distract him.

Then they watched a movie on Takahiro’s laptop, and after that, Issei got tired. But he didn’t feel like going home. So he borrowed some pajamas and turned out the lights, joining Takahiro in bed afterwards. 

There was something he wanted to discuss with his best friend. Even though he was nervous that it might lead to an argument, he couldn’t stop himself from bringing it up. But he managed to keep his voice calm and free from irritation, despite how angry he was about Takahiro withholding information from him.

“Did you really almost pass out again when you were walking to my house today?” 

It took a few seconds for Takahiro to respond, almost too softly to be heard. “Yeah.”

“That must’ve been scary,” Issei said, noticing that Takahiro seemed to feel bad about it. He assumed it was because Takahiro regretted hiding things from him, so he forcefully stuffed his lingering anger to the very back of his mind. Instead he focused on solutions to prevent that scenario from happening again. “You shouldn’t go anywhere by yourself until we figure out what’s going on with you.”

“It’s unrealistic to have someone with me all the time,” Takahiro pointed out. Then he yawned, getting himself settled, which meant hogging the blankets.

“I’m already with you a lot.” Issei pulled on the blankets, making sure he had enough to cover himself. “I’ll just keep an eye on you more often.”

Takahiro snorted. “You make it sound like I’m a little kid you’re gonna babysit.”

“That’s one way to look at it,” Issei said with a slight smile. 

However, he had something else he wanted to discuss, and it made his smile fade to think about it. He had come to an important decision that day—he didn’t want to play volleyball without his best friend. It would be hard to give it up, but he couldn’t just leave Takahiro behind.

“Hey, so I’ve been thinking . . .” he started, though it was difficult to make the words come out. They were getting caught in the back of his throat.

With great effort, he forced himself to keep talking. “If you can’t play volleyball anymore . . . I’ll quit with you.”

“I’m still gonna play volleyball.” Takahiro seemed completely confident about that, which was kind of surprising. He also sounded indignant and stubborn. “No matter what’s wrong with me, I’m not gonna quit.”

Never in their whole entire lives had Issei known Takahiro to be so persistent about sticking with something. It made him proud. But it also pained him, because that level of dedication only meant it would be that much more devastating if Takahiro wasn’t able to continue.

He glanced at Takahiro, though he couldn’t see him in the darkness. “What is it about volleyball that you like so much?”

“I dunno,” Takahiro replied, yawning again. “Why does anyone like anything?”

Issei shrugged. “Because it’s fun . . . or satisfying . . . or challenging.”

“I guess you could say that all those things make me like volleyball.” Takahiro stretched out his legs and adjusted his pillow. “But if you want a serious answer, I’d have to really think about it. The only thing I know for sure is that I wanna keep doing it.”

“So do I,” Issei said, feeling a rush of emotion. He was glad that the room was dark enough to hide his misty-eyed expression. “I wanna keep playing together until we finish high school.”

“Then don’t offer to quit so easily,” Takahiro teased. But then he sighed and grew serious. “If, for whatever reason, I wasn’t able to play anymore . . . I’d still want you to play. I’d want you to beat everyone and go to nationals.”

“Is going to nationals a goal of yours?” Issei asked, not willing to acknowledge the idea of playing without Takahiro on his team. 

“Of course,” Takahiro replied as he tried to cocoon himself in the blankets. “Everyone wants that.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Issei said, pulling more of the blankets onto his side of the bed. The room was cold enough to make him shiver, especially without adequate cover. They had forgotten to turn on the space heater. “In that case, let’s go to nationals together someday.”

“Sounds good,” Takahiro replied, finally giving up on hogging the blankets. He rolled over so that he could put an arm across Issei’s chest and share his pillow, with his chin on Issei’s shoulder, snuggling up to him like he often did when they slept next to each other on cold nights. Then he tucked his feet under Issei’s legs to steal his warmth. 

With a soft grin, Issei adjusted the blankets to cover them equally. The chill of the room was much more bearable now that they were cuddling.  

“Man, I’m exhausted,” Takahiro said as he wiggled closer, trying to wedge one of his arms under Issei’s back. 

Issei briefly lifted himself up a little bit, making it easier for Takahiro to get comfortable. “Then you should sleep.”

“I was trying to,” Takahiro mumbled in a tired, somewhat grumpy voice. “But you were going on and on, getting all sentimental and stuff.”

Issei chuckled at that. And then he stayed quiet, not wanting to keep Takahiro from getting the rest he so clearly needed. 

Within a few minutes, Takahiro’s breathing evened out, and he fully relaxed against Issei as he fell asleep. Once he was out, he was hard to wake up. That had been especially true ever since his fatigue and lack of appetite grew worse. 

After some quiet reflection about the events of that day, Issei carefully moved Takahiro’s arm out from under himself so it wouldn’t get uncomfortable while they slept. And then he rolled over, facing away from him, though he kept their legs tangled up. He also kept Takahiro’s other arm wrapped around himself.

Then he closed his eyes and tried to relax. 

But for him, sleep didn’t come easy. His thoughts were racing. He was desperately hoping that Takahiro’s symptoms had a benign cause and a simple fix, and that they would have answers right away the next morning, once they ran whatever tests Mr. Hanamaki was planning on.

Until they knew exactly what they were dealing with, he didn’t think he could bring himself to leave Takahiro’s side. He needed to know that everything was going to be okay.

All of the concern that had been building in his mind about Takahiro’s health came rushing to the surface. It was making him restless.

To calm himself, he grabbed Takahiro’s hand, which was cold. He held it against his chest to warm it up. And because they were basically spooning, he could feel Takahiro’s steady breathing against the back of his neck. It was oddly comforting. 

So he focused on that for a while, and before too long, he finally fell asleep. 

Chapter Text

At precisely 4:16 in the morning, Issei woke up shivering. All the blankets had been stolen by Takahiro sometime during the night, and the room was cold, even more so than when they first went to bed. His sweatpants and thin shirt weren’t nearly enough to keep him warm.

Instead of reclaiming his share of the blankets and trying to go back to sleep, as he should have done, Issei got out of bed and turned on the space heater, sitting in front of it after digging a hoodie and some socks out of Takahiro’s dresser. 

As he zoned out to the feeling of the heater blasting hot air at his face and hands, his thoughts picked back up right where they had left off the night before. One worry led to another, and within a few minutes, he was fighting the urge to drag Takahiro out of bed and take him to the hospital right that moment. 

But he knew how unreasonable that would be given the current time. 

He had been fully alert from the moment he first opened his eyes, and his restless energy was making him want to do something productive, lest he give in to his worry-driven impulses and make Takahiro grumpy by waking him up at such an early hour. 

His desire for a distraction was what made him decide to clean Takahiro’s room. It needed to be done anyway, and there was no sense wasting the wind in his sails. 

The light from the lamp on the nightstand wouldn’t bother a deep sleeper like Takahiro, and neither would the sound of things being moved around, so Issei turned it on and got to work. Most of the mess came from all the clothes that were scattered across the floor, and it didn’t take long to put those into the hamper, though there were too many to fit inside neatly. He had to pile more than half of them on top of the lid. 

Then he tackled the many stacks of discarded homework and notebooks from the previous school year, sorting through them to determine what Takahiro might still need and what could be tossed in the trash. Checking every single piece of paper proved to be a rather tedious and time-consuming process. 

By the time he was done with that, sunlight was starting to filter in through the window. It was nearly six o’clock. 

The room looked way better after the clothes and piles of paper were up off the floor, but Issei still had energy to spare and thoughts to avoid, so he opened the closet to see if anything inside of there needed to be organized.

He was quite shocked by the disaster that was waiting for him.

Most people have at least one junk drawer in their house, where they store random odds and ends that don’t have anywhere else to go, and other little things they can’t justify getting rid of, especially if there is any chance at all that they might be able to make use of it later. 

And that entire closet was Takahiro’s junk drawer. 

There were all kinds of things in there, such as lone socks with holes in them and old clothes that had long since been outgrown, cheap trinkets from festivals, empty bottles of tea and half-empty bottles of water, bits of trash, abandoned art projects and old craft supplies, books that had been borrowed from (and never returned to) their middle school library, a bunch of hats that Takahiro had literally never worn, and countless scraps of paper. 

It seemed like he just shoved stuff into his closet whenever he was told to clean his room. A habit that, by the looks of it, had been going on for a very long time. 

Issei couldn’t remember when he had last looked in Takahiro’s closet, and he certainly hadn’t expected to find it in such a disastrous state. But he didn’t mind a challenge. And since the room wasn’t as cold anymore—thanks to both the space heater and the physicality of his cleaning efforts—he took off the sweatshirt he had borrowed and put it away before he faced the mess in the closet. 

He started by pulling everything out, sorting it all into several piles as he went. More than half of it was trash (as far as he was concerned) or bottles that needed to be recycled. There was so much of it that he went to get a few garbage bags from downstairs. 

While he was at it, he brought down Takahiro’s extremely full hamper, leaving it near the laundry room, which was right next to the downstairs bathroom. Then he went around the corner to grab the garbage bags from the kitchen. 

“Good morning!” Mr. Hanamaki was in there making himself some coffee, and he greeted Issei with a smile. “You’re up early, kiddo.”

“I woke up at four and couldn’t get back to sleep,” Issei said, going over to the drawer where garbage bags were kept. He pulled a few of them out and tucked them under his arm.

“Doing some spring cleaning?” Mr. Hanamaki asked as he nodded at the bags. 

“Something like that,” Issei replied with a wry grin. “I’m cleaning out Takahiro’s closet.”

Mr. Hanamaki whistled like he was impressed. “That’s a big job. Is he helping you, or is he just watching from the comfort of his bed?”

“He’s still sleeping.”

“Ah, that makes sense,” Mr. Hanamaki said, glancing at his watch. “He’s never been one to willingly get up this early.”

“What time should I wake him up?” Issei asked, figuring that was a more casual way to inquire about exactly how soon they could head to the hospital, when compared to asking outright.

“There’s no need to get him up before eight,” Mr. Hanamaki replied, taking a moment to grind up some coffee beans and pour the grounds into a french press. “I’ll start making pancakes around then.”

“Oh good, that’ll help him wake up on the right side of the bed,” Issei remarked as he started walking away, with the garbage bags still tucked under one arm.

“That’s the idea,” Mr. Hanamaki said in a lighthearted tone. “Today might be rough for him, so we’ve gotta butter him up a little bit.”

Issei let out a brief chuckle before leaving the kitchen.

He went back to Takahiro’s room, turning off the space heater when he got there, since he was thoroughly warmed up at that point. He even cracked a window to let in some fresh air. 

Then he bagged up the trash that had come from the closet. There were five bags total when all was said and done, one of which was the recyclables and two of which were filled with outgrown clothes that needed to be donated, and he ran them downstairs to leave them by the front door. 

The air smelled like coffee down there. 

Mr. Hanamaki had settled in on the couch with a mug in one hand and a book in the other. But he looked up when Issei came into view. They nodded at each other, and then he went back to reading. Mornings were often spent that way for him on weekends, when he didn’t have to work and most of the household was still asleep. He was the only one in the Hanamaki family to rise early by nature.

Issei went back upstairs again, and this time he worked on putting everything back into the closet in an orderly fashion. There were some things he felt might have been destined for the trash. But he had only thrown away things he knew for sure wouldn’t be missed, because without Takahiro’s consent, he wasn’t going to get rid of random trinkets that may still mean something to him. 

So instead of getting tossed out, those things were put up on the shelf that ran along the top of the closet. 

And while he was lining things up on that shelf, he happened upon the sea turtle plushie he had picked out for Takahiro when he went to the aquarium for his seventh birthday. It hadn’t caught his eye before, because he had been too focused on getting everything out of the closet and into the right pile. 

He looked at it for a few seconds, smiling at the memories he had from the day he bought it, and from the next day, when he told Takahiro all about the animals he had seen. 

Then he brushed off the sea turtle and put it up on the shelf, feeling glad that Takahiro still had it after all this time. It had almost been a decade. And there weren’t any other toys or stuffed animals in the closet, so it seemed like the sea turtle had made it through the many rounds of purging old playthings that Misumi conducted on a yearly basis when her children were younger. 

Issei still had the shark he picked out for himself back then, and it was in good condition, just like Takahiro’s sea turtle. 

However, the fate of the penguins he had brought home for his siblings hadn’t been quite so fortunate. 

Asami had carried hers around the house almost constantly for a good two years, often taking it outside, so it had gotten dirty and worn out. And then she lost it when she took it to the park right after her fourth birthday. She had been so upset about it that Kazuki let her borrow his, but within a few weeks, she lost that one as well. 

When the closet was as organized as it was going to get, Issei spent a few minutes cleaning off the desk and the nightstand, which mostly consisted of throwing away random pieces of scrap paper, lining things up to look nice, and gathering all six of the mugs that had been sitting around. He figured he could just take those downstairs with him when breakfast was ready.

The room looked significantly better than it had before, which left Issei with a deep sense of pride and accomplishment. But he had another challenging task ahead of him. It was almost eight o’clock, and that meant he needed to wake his best friend up.

He went over to stand near the bed, putting his hands on his hips as he stared at Takahiro, who was wrapped up in all the blankets. Just the top of his head was peeking out. The room wasn’t nearly as cold as it had been overnight, but it had cooled down a lot after Issei turned off the space heater and cracked the window. 

And so Takahiro was probably warm and irresistibly cozy inside of his blanket cocoon. In those conditions, he would undoubtedly be extra difficult to rouse, and extra likely to grump at whoever dared to disturb him. 

“Hey,” Issei said in his most soothing voice. “Time to get up.”

The first attempt produced no results, here meaning acknowledgement of any kind. 

“Time to get up,” Issei repeated more firmly, nudging Takahiro’s back. 

“Hmmph.”

“Come on.” Issei shook Takahiro by the shoulder. “We’re going to the hospital today, remember?”

Takahiro pulled the covers the rest of the way over his head, burrowing himself deeper underneath them. He had gone with his usual avoidance tactic.

Issei sat down on the edge of the bed, considering whether or not he should use the quickest and most effective (and most likely to get him kicked) method he had at his disposal. His internal debate was very brief. 

With a grin, he put his hands on Takahiro’s ribs and tickled him lightly, just enough to be a threat for what would come next if he chose not to get up.

In response, Takahiro immediately grunted and thrashed around in his blanket cocoon, trying to free his arms. But he had wrapped himself up too well, so he remained defenseless. 

“Atta boy,” Issei said, tickling Takahiro again, a little harder this time. “Wakey-wakey.”

Takahiro continued to struggle, with an occasional snort of laughter and irritated growl escaping him, not to mention the string of incoherent profanities he was spewing. As it turned out, stealing all the blankets was coming back to bite him in the butt. His cocoon had become his prison.  

Issei tickled Takahiro relentlessly, finding amusement in the lively reaction he was getting. It wasn’t often that physical retaliation couldn’t be used against him. “Let me know when you’ve had enough.”

“Just you wait!” Takahiro finally managed to get an arm out from under the blankets, and then he swatted at Issei again and again, like his life depended on it. “I’m gonna smack you into next week, you bastard!”

“Hey now.” Issei jumped back, getting out of Takahiro’s reach. “Is that any way to talk to the guy who just cleaned your entire room?”

Once he was no longer being tickled, Takahiro calmed down, glaring at Issei as he flipped him off. But then he seemed to register what had been said, so he lifted his head and looked around. “Wait . . . when did you find time to clean my room?”

“This morning,” Issei replied with a smug grin. 

“This morning?” Takahiro glanced at the clock, furrowing his brow in confusion. “It’s hardly been morning for five minutes.”

“I got cold last night and couldn’t sleep, all because someone turned himself into a human burrito,” Issei said, his voice tinted with just a slight hint of irritation. “So I put myself to good use.”

At that point, Takahiro kicked off all but one of the blankets. Then he started muttering under his breath. “Yeah, well, you’re still a bastard for tickling me first thing in the morning.” He looked at Issei and regarded him silently for a few seconds. “But since you cleaned my room, I’ll forgive you.”

“What a relief,” Issei deadpanned. Then he held his hands up and wiggled his fingers. “Better not go back to sleep, unless you want more of this.” 

“If you do that, I’m gonna be really pissed off,” Takahiro said, narrowing his eyes. Then he closed them and got comfortable, like he was going back to sleep. “Don’t tickle me anymore.”

Issei dropped his hands down to his sides. He almost never tickled Takahiro on account of how much he hated it (and how likely it was that he would get smacked for it), and now that Takahiro had expressly asked him not to, he couldn’t violate his trust by doing it again. 

Then he remembered something else that might get his best friend up and going. “Just so you know, your dad said he’s gonna make pancakes for breakfast.” 

“Don’t care,” Takahiro said, not opening his eyes. “My stomach hurts.”

“The sooner you get up, the sooner we can go to the hospital,” Issei pointed out. “And the sooner we can figure out why your stomach hurts.”

“Tired,” Takahiro muttered, covering his face with one arm to block out the sunlight that was coming in through the windows. “Sleep more.”

Issei sighed in defeat. “Fine, but just for a few minutes.”

Takahiro let out a soft hum of acknowledgement. 

There was no point in standing around doing nothing, so Issei went to the bathroom to freshen up and splash his face with cold water. His lack of sleep was starting to catch up with him. He was tempted to go back to bed for a while, but he didn’t think he could relax enough for that to be effective. All he wanted was to go to the hospital and get some answers—preferably sooner than later. 

When he came back into the bedroom, he went over to check on Takahiro, who was already sleeping soundly again. 

“Time’s up,” he said, clapping his hands together twice. “Rise and shine!”

“Hmph.” Takahiro pulled the blanket up over his head, but before he could burrow himself completely out of sight, Issei yanked the blanket away so that he was no longer under any covers at all. After letting out an irritated grunt, he rolled onto his stomach and tucked his arms under his chest for warmth. “Sleep more.”

“Not this time,” Issei said, putting his hands behind his back to keep himself from tickling Takahiro again. “We’ve got places to be and people to see.”

“Rather not,” Takahiro muttered, still facing the mattress. He wasn’t willing to budge.

“Come on,” Issei insisted, getting onto the bed so that he could shove his arms under Takahiro, flipping him over. “Once you get moving, it’ll be easier to wake up.”

Takahiro rolled away from Issei and grabbed the blanket, hiding underneath it as he pressed himself against the wall. His voice was muffled when he said, “Five more minutes.”

“Would some tea motivate you to get up?” Issei asked, getting off the bed and crossing his arms. That was his usual method of waking him before school when he was being stubborn. 

“Hmmmmm, I dunno,” Takahiro replied from under the blanket. “Are you gonna make it the way I like it?”

“Don’t I always?” Issei went over to the desk to gather up the six mugs that needed to go downstairs. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with your tea, but no more Mr. Nice Guy after that.”

There was no response from Takahiro, so Issei left the room, going down the stairs and heading right for the kitchen. 

“Good morning again,” Mr. Hanamaki said, eyeing all the mugs that Issei was putting in the sink. “Oh, so that’s where those went.” 

“He had a whole collection going,” Issei joked, watching Mr. Hanamaki flip a pancake. There was already a big stack of them on a platter, and beside it, there were three plates that had pancakes and omelets on them. 

With a knowing grin, Mr. Hanamaki nodded at the kettle that was on the stove. “There’s hot water in there. You’ll be needing it for Takahiro’s tea, I presume?”

“Yeah, but I’ll eat before I bring it to him. He’s not awake enough to hold a cup yet,” Issei replied, feeling his stomach growl. After all the cleaning he did that morning, he was particularly hungry. 

Mr. Hanamaki reached for one of the three full plates, offering it to Issei with a cheerful wink. “Here you go. Since it might be a long day for all of us, I put smiley faces on the pancakes.”

“Thanks,” Issei said, taking the plate and staring at the pancakes, which did indeed have smiley faces made from chocolate chips cooked into them. There was also some fresh fruit next to the omelet. 

He grinned as he carried his plate to the table and sat down, immediately beginning to dig in. 

After cooking a few more pancakes and adding them to the platter next to the stove, Mr. Hanamaki brought Issei a cup of tea and joined him at the table. He had also brought his own plate over so that they could eat together. “You’ll be coming to the hospital, won’t you?”

Issei only nodded, since his mouth was full. The food was so good that he could hardly stop himself from inhaling it. 

“It’ll be just like when you broke your arm,” Mr. Hanamaki noted, with a distant look in his eyes. Then he took a bite of his food, speaking again a few moments later. “Except this time, Takahiro’s the one who needs medical attention. You’ll get to watch from the sidelines.” 

“Do you think we’ll get answers today?” Issei asked, opening the sugar jar that was sitting right in the middle of the table. He put a very small scoop into his tea and mixed it around. 

“I’m not sure,” Mr. Hanamaki replied, speaking in between bites of his omelet. “At the very least, we’ll be able to rule some things out with a few tests.”

Issei blew on his tea and took a sip, but it was still too hot for him to drink. So he worked on his breakfast again instead. 

“I think I’ll call for a taxi once you boys are ready to go,” Mr. Hanamaki decided. “Oh, and I’ve already let my friend know we’ll be coming.”

Issei hummed. “This friend of yours is a doctor, right?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Mr. Hanamaki replied. “We went to medical school together, and she’s very good at what she does. Our classmates used to say she was a walking and talking encyclopedia, because whenever we quizzed her on symptoms, she could list out almost any disease that’s related to it.”

“That’s a cool trick,” Issei said. He liked the idea of someone knowledgeable caring for his best friend. 

“Sure is.” Mr. Hanamaki laughed softly, getting that faraway look in his eyes again, like he was thinking back on the past. “We were all a little jealous of her. You see, it wasn’t just symptoms she could remember. Dosing guidelines, medication options, alternative treatments—you name it, she had it memorized. And that’s why a lot of us wanted to study with her. If we got something wrong, she would correct us.”

“Was that ever annoying?” Issei asked, recalling the countless times Etsu had done the same kind of thing. She often acted like a know-it-all.

Mr. Hanamaki tilted his head curiously, not responding until he finished the bite of fruit he had just taken. “To be corrected by her?”

Issei nodded, eating the last of his pancakes. 

“No, I actually appreciated it. My test scores were always much better when she was part of my study group,” Mr. Hanamaki said, eating another bite of fruit. Then he hummed. “But there were some guys in our class that didn’t like to be corrected by anyone, let alone a woman. So I’m sure they would’ve said it was annoying.”

“Did you study with her a lot?” 

“More often than not,” Mr. Hanamaki replied with a nod. “And you know, she’s actually the reason I met my wife.”

Issei was working on his omelet, so he silently waited for Mr. Hanamaki to continue. 

“The first time I ever saw Misumi was at a coffee shop I didn’t usually go to. I wasn’t actually that into coffee back then,” Mr. Hanamaki explained. “But my friend really liked that place, and we had gone there a few times to study. She wasn’t exactly a regular or anything, and neither was I . . . At least, not until the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen in my entire life started working there.” 

Issei kept eating his omelet as Mr. Hanamaki went on with his story. 

“Now, I assumed she was way out of my league. Not only was she incredibly beautiful, she was also taller than me, and that’s a deal breaker for some people.” He picked up his mug of coffee, smelling it briefly before taking a drink. “So I didn’t have my hopes up. But the second time I saw her there, my friend told me we should order our drinks separately. We usually ordered together, so I asked her why, and she said it would give me an opportunity to talk to the woman who made it so hard for me to focus on my studies last time we were there.”

Issei chuckled at that. He was done with his food, so he picked up his cup of tea. “Then what happened?”

Mr. Hanamaki had just taken a bite of pancake, and he finished chewing before he replied. “My friend ordered first and went off to find a table. So it was just me there at the counter, staring at the most beautiful woman ever, trying to remember what I was going to order. My mind went blank though. I was a mumbling, sputtering mess. And I ended up ordering black coffee. Mind you, I didn’t like the taste of coffee at all back then. My friend knew this, so when I came to the table with a cup of plain old coffee, she laughed at me.”

“You drink plain coffee all the time now,” Issei noted. 

“I do,” Mr. Hanamaki agreed, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “I quickly learned to love it. You would too, if you drank it every day for weeks because your crush thought it was your usual order. She started making it for me as soon as I walked into the building because I asked for it again the second time I talked to her.”

Issei sipped his tea. “So, you forgot your order twice in a row?”

“That’s right,” Mr. Hanamaki said. “I was nervous again the second time I talked to her. And the third time. And the fourth time. It took a while for me to relax enough to joke around with her. But when I finally made her laugh—and I mean really laugh, not just a patronizing-her-customer laugh—it was the best day ever.” He smiled, shaking his head, which made his fluffy cowlick bounce around a little bit. “I was, as you and your friends might say, crushing super hard.”

“I don’t know anyone who says that,” Issei teased, suppressing a grin. 

Mr. Hanamaki chuckled and relaxed against the back of his chair. “Guess I’m not as hip as I think I am, huh?”

“Nah, you’re the hippest.” 

“Thank goodness,” Mr. Hanamaki said, pretending to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow. Then he nodded at Issei’s empty plate. “If you’re still hungry, feel free to get more. There’s plenty to go around.”

“Thanks,” Issei said, getting up to do just that. He needed a few more pancakes to fill him up. 

Once he was done eating his extra helping, he thanked Mr. Hanamaki for breakfast and offered to do the dishes. When his offer was politely declined, he got out what he would need to make Takahiro’s favorite tea. He put in plenty of sugar and cream, since Takahiro liked it really, really sweet. And then he poured a splash of cream into his own drink to cool it down. He had made himself a second cup of black tea, wanting a little more caffeine before the busy day officially started.

After that, he headed upstairs with a stomach full of pancakes, two mugs full of tea, and a mind full of determination. This time, he was getting Takahiro out of bed. No matter what. 

“I brought your tea,” he said, stepping into the room at a slow pace, since both mugs were so full that they might spill if he made any sudden movements. He set Takahiro’s drink on the nightstand, and then he sat on the edge of the bed, carefully sipping from his own mug. His tea was still a bit too hot for him, even with the splash of cream. 

Takahiro hadn’t moved from where he was earlier, but he was awake enough to notice that someone had come into the room. He peeked his face out from under the blanket and stared at Issei, blinking slowly at him, like he was tired. Then he looked at the nightstand, studying the mug that had been placed there.

“Did you make it nice and sweet?”

“No, I left it plain,” Issei teased, keeping a straight face. “You don’t need all that sugar.”

With a scoff of disbelief, Takahiro crawled out from under the blanket and went over to the edge of the bed, peering into the mug. He picked it up and took a sip, and then he grinned, sitting with his back against the headboard. “It’s perfect.”

“Your breakfast is gonna get cold if you don’t go eat it soon,” Issei remarked, watching Takahiro take large gulps of tea. “Actually, it’s already cold by now. But it’ll still taste good.”

“I’m not hungry,” Takahiro said, finishing his drink off right after speaking. Then he scrunched up his nose and hugged his stomach with one arm. “Ugh, it hurts pretty bad right now. I think the tea made it worse.”

“Sorry, that really sucks,” Issei said. “How are you feeling about going to the hospital today?”

“Not looking forward to it,” Takahiro replied. “They’re gonna do blood work, and you know I hate needles.”

“Maybe you could close your eyes when they’re doing it,” Issei suggested. “Picture yourself on a beach somewhere or something.”

“Even if I can’t see them doing it, I can still feel it, and I know it’s happening,” Takahiro muttered, setting his empty mug on the nightstand. “Takes everything I’ve got just to sit still for it.”

“I’ll be there with you the whole time,” Issei promised, glancing into his own mug, which was still mostly full. “And it’ll be over quick.”

Takahiro sighed. “Yeah, I know.”

Issei took another sip of his tea, and then he set his mug down on the nightstand, getting off the bed afterwards. He stripped down to his boxers and went to Takahiro’s dresser, intending to pick out some clothes to borrow. But there were plenty of things in there that Takahiro had stolen from him, so after digging around for a few seconds, he ended up with an armful of his own clothes. 

Once he was wearing a fresh outfit, he turned around and looked at Takahiro, who was grumpily staring at the ceiling, as if the pain in his stomach was irritating him. “You should go eat your breakfast. Have a few bites of it, at least.”

“Might puke if I eat something right now, but I’ll see what I can do,” Takahiro said, sitting up and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed. He quickly got to his feet, and then he immediately fell forward, landing face down on the hardwood floor. 

It happened too fast for Issei to be able to catch him.

“Holy shit! Are you alright?!” Issei hurried to Takahiro’s side, and when there was no response, he carefully rolled him over. 

Takahiro’s eyes were closed, like he was unconscious. And there was a small stream of blood running down his cheek, dripping onto the floor. It was coming from his mouth. 

That scared Issei half to death. 

“Holy shit,” he repeated in a tight voice, leaning down to press his ear against Takahiro’s chest. He could hear his heartbeat, and he was still breathing. So he shook him a little bit. “Hey, are you okay?”  

After a moment, Takahiro groaned and opened his eyes, looking slightly confused. Then his gaze shifted to Issei, whose panic was written clearly across his face.

“Just got a little woozy there. Nothing to worry about,” he said, nudging Issei’s leg with his elbow. “I’m fine.”

“You’re bleeding,” Issei said, staring at Takahiro’s mouth. 

Takahiro wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, looking at it curiously. “Oh.”

And then Issei realized that the blood was coming from a small cut on Takahiro’s lip, likely from getting bumped by his teeth when he hit the floor, which was a lot less concerning than if he were coughing up blood.

“Is my lip all busted up?” Takahiro asked, wiping his mouth again. The blood was still running down his cheek a little bit, but now it was also smeared across his lips, chin, and the back of his hand.

“Yeah, it’s already swelling up. I’ll go get you a towel,” Issei decided, jumping to his feet. 

He dashed out of the room and grabbed two small washcloths from the hallway closet, wetting both of them in the bathroom and bringing them back as fast as he could. He offered one to Takahiro once he was by his side again.

“Thanks,” Takahiro said, taking the washcloth and holding it to his mouth. Then he slowly sat up, crossing his legs and hunching forward.

Issei gently wiped Takahiro’s face, neck, and a small part of hair behind his ear that had gotten blood in it. Then he cleaned up the blood that was on the floor. “Has this happened before? Falling right after you get out of bed, I mean.”

“Not like this,” Takahiro replied, pulling the washcloth away from his mouth for a second so that he could speak more clearly. “I usually notice when it’s about to happen. And until now, I’ve always managed to sit down or fall back on the bed. That’s a much softer landing.”

Issei finished wiping the floor, and then he stared at Takahiro, processing what had just been said. He wasn’t happy to hear that other fainting episodes had happened and been hidden from him. Because of that, it took a lot of effort to keep frustration out of his voice.

“You didn’t feel it coming this time?”

“Nah,” Takahiro replied, folding the washcloth and holding it to his mouth again, which muffled his voice. “It caught me by surprise.”

“Dude.” Issei’s frustration suddenly overwhelmed him, and it showed on his face for a brief moment before he could calm himself down, schooling his expression. “Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”

“Didn’t want you stressing about it,” Takahiro replied with a shrug. Then his tone became playful. “You dwell on things too much, y’know. You do that thing with your face—yep, just like that,” he said, pointing at Issei’s forehead, where his brow was furrowed. “You’re gonna get wrinkles early if you make that face all the time. Also, stress isn’t good for your complexion. Makes you look sickly. But hey, Eh-chan’s got a face cream that should help. We’ll borrow some from her when she’s not home.”

Issei sighed, not appreciating how Takahiro was trying to shift the focus away from the issue at hand. It was always like that with him. When there was something to be concerned about, he would make light of it, even if it should be taken seriously. 

But in the back of Issei’s mind, he was aware that rambling and goofing off was a sign of Takahiro’s anxiousness about the situation. It was just hard for him to focus on that when anger was clouding his judgment.

“Uh-oh,” Takahiro said, poking at the corner of Issei’s mouth. “Now you’re frowning. You know what my grandma used to say about people that frown all the time?”

Issei stared at Takahiro, narrowing his eyes and deepening his frown on purpose. 

“That they’ve got resting bitch face,” Takahiro continued, switching from poking Issei to pinching his cheek. “She also said smiling boosts your mood, and so does laughter. You should try it. If you give me a second, I’ll think up a good joke.”

“We need to get you to the hospital,” Issei said, ignoring the way Takahiro was still pinching his cheek. He stood up, putting his arms around Takahiro’s chest from behind to lift him. Then he got him seated on the edge of the bed. “I’ll help you get dressed.”

“I’ve gotta pee,” Takahiro said, watching Issei get clothes out of the dresser. “Oh, make sure you pick out something cheerful for me to wear. Something that shows off my optimism about how things are gonna go at the hospital . . . but don’t make it too flashy. No neon colors.”

“Do you need help going pee?” Issei asked, his voice sincere, but also kind of sharp. He wasn’t in the mood to put up with any more of Takahiro’s goofy redirection tactics. 

“Thanks for the offer, but I think I’ll manage on my own,” Takahiro replied, sounding amused. He drummed his fingers against his thigh, though his other hand was still holding the washcloth to his bottom lip. 

After staring at Issei for a few more seconds, he started slouching, and then he put the washcloth down and looked around the room. “It’s so tidy in here now. You did a great job,” he said, glancing at Issei, who didn’t acknowledge him. “Believe it or not, I was gonna get around to cleaning later this week. It was on my to-do list.”

Without saying anything, Issei brought a shirt over to Takahiro and held it above his head, waiting for him to take off the one he was wearing. He didn’t feel like he could conceal his anger if he spoke.

“You know, it kinda seems like you’re mad at me,” Takahiro said, pulling his shirt off. Once the fresh one was on, he looked up at Issei, his expression changing from playful to apologetic. “Are you?”

“No, I’m not mad at you.” Issei went over to the dresser again, where he grabbed a pair of pants and some socks. He hadn’t been planning on talking about why he was feeling angry, but before he could stop himself, he did exactly that. “I just wish you’d take this more seriously . . . and I wish you wouldn’t have waited to tell me how bad things have gotten.”

“What I’m hearing is that you don’t feel like messing around right now,” Takahiro said, leaning back on the bed to pull his sweatpants off. Then he sat up and waited for Issei, who came over with the other clothes and knelt down in front of him, putting his socks on first. “And that you’re upset I didn’t tell you sooner. So basically, you are mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Issei repeated a little too forcefully as he helped Takahiro get his feet through the legs of his pants, pulling it up as far as his knees. Then he stood right in front of him and braced himself, preparing to catch him if he fainted again.

“Bottling up anger makes it worse, so just admit that you’re mad at me,” Takahiro said, slowly getting to his feet. He put one hand on Issei’s shoulder and pulled his pants up with the other, using both to zip and button them afterwards. Then he sat down again, staring up at Issei with a stubborn, almost desperate look on his face. “Let’s talk about it so we can move on.”

“Seriously, I’m not mad at you,” Issei insisted, sitting down beside his best friend. His heart was starting to race, his stomach was tense, and his throat felt sticky. That always happened when he lied outright. It also happened when he felt like he was about to have an argument, and that was where the conversation seemed to be heading.

Takahiro let out a weary sigh, and his voice clearly expressed his growing irritation. “Look yourself in the face and tell me it doesn’t seem like you’re mad right now.”

“You gonna hold my resting bitch face against me?” Issei asked, trying to redirect the conversation. He even managed to force a grin. 

“Ah-ah-ah, don’t go getting playful on me,” Takahiro said, wagging his finger. “If you do that, you might accidentally cheer up, and then what’ll you do with all that pent up anger?”

“Nothing, ‘cause I’m not angry.” Issei slid an arm around Takahiro’s waist. “Hold on to me so I can help you to the bathroom.”

After letting out another sigh, Takahiro did as he was told, putting an arm over Issei’s shoulder so that he could help him up and guide him out of the room. He let go of him once they were standing outside the bathroom door. “Thanks for the tow.”

“You sure you’ll be alright?” Issei asked, using both hands to hold Takahiro’s waist from behind as he went into the bathroom.

“Yep, I’ve got this. Been potty trained since I was three,” Takahiro replied in a lighthearted tone. Then he turned around and pushed Issei out of the way, closing the door afterwards.

Issei waited outside the bathroom until Takahiro opened the door a few minutes later. “Let me walk in front of you when we go down the stairs.”

“Why?” Takahiro asked, crossing his arms and leaning against the doorframe. 

“So I can keep you from falling on your face again,” Issei replied as he headed towards the stairs. 

“Seems like it would be easier if you just carried me on your back,” Takahiro said, hinting at his preferred method of transport. But the only response he got was a very brief and somewhat ill-tempered glance. So he followed Issei, not making any further comments. 

Luckily, there were no incidents while they were going down the stairs, and that remained true when they went to the kitchen.

“Good morning! Your food’s right there,” Mr. Hanamaki said, nodding at the plate that was on the counter. He was in the middle of washing the dishes, but when he noticed Takahiro’s busted lip, he turned to stare at him. “What happened to your mouth?”

“Got in a fight,” Takahiro replied, poking at his food as he stood near the counter, with Issei protectively lingering near him. “You should see the other guy.”

“He fell when he was getting out of bed and hit his face on the floor,” Issei corrected in a flat, dry voice. This was no laughing matter, and he had no intention of letting Takahiro make light of it. 

“Great, now he knows I’ve never been in a fight. There goes all my street cred,” Takahiro joked, smirking slightly and glancing at Issei over his shoulder. Their gazes met for a moment, and Issei was the first to look away. 

A disappointed frown replaced Takahiro’s smirk, and then he turned back towards his plate, taking a bite of pancake and chewing it slowly, as if he was struggling to get it down. Between the pain from having a split lip and his upset stomach, it didn’t seem like he had much of an appetite. 

“Did you lose consciousness, or did your legs give out?” Mr Hanamaki asked. He was still staring at Takahiro, though he kept his hands over the sink, since they were wet and soapy.

Takahiro took another bite of pancake, holding one finger up as he worked on chewing it. Then he swallowed his food and gave a response in a calm voice. “If you must know, everything went black when I stood up, like someone turned out the lights. And next thing I knew, I was on the floor with Issei fussing over me like a mother hen.” 

“So you fainted,” Mr. Hanamaki said, finally turning back to wash more dishes. “Did you hit your head pretty hard?”

“Nah, my mouth broke my fall,” Takahiro replied as he got some plastic wrap out, covering his plate and putting it in the fridge. “Hence the busted lip.”

“This may surprise you, but your mouth is attached to your head,” Mr. Hanamaki said, his tone becoming rather playful. He and his son were alike in their tendency to make jokes during stressful situations. “That means you can get a concussion from a blow to the jaw.”

“Blow to the jaw?” Takahiro was trying to suppress a wide grin, though his efforts didn’t stop his lip from stretching too far, making it bleed once again. “I don’t wanna hear about blow jaws from you, Dad. Spare me my innocence.”

It took a second for Mr. Hanamaki to understand the innuendo, but once he did, he laughed and shook his head. “Don’t let your mother hear you talk like that.”

Takahiro chuckled as he grabbed a napkin, pressing it to his lip to stop the bleeding. 

Meanwhile, Issei was still standing close to Takahiro, silently watching him for any signs of dizziness. His concern was made obvious by his hovering. Even though he knew it was probably overkill, he wanted to stay within arms reach of his best friend at all times. It helped him feel like he was in control of the situation.

And then, out of nowhere, Takahiro suddenly went limp and fell forward. 

Issei barely managed to catch him. They went crashing onto the floor, though Issei was able to slow it down enough to keep them from getting any major injuries. He used his body to cushion Takahiro’s fall. His elbow took the brunt of the impact, and he would probably end up with a bruise there. But he was otherwise completely unharmed. 

His main concern was Takahiro’s well-being.

The incident caught Mr. Hanamaki’s attention, and he turned around, holding his soap-covered hands up, with water dripping down his arms. He stared at where Takahiro was floppily sprawled on top of Issei’s body. “Oh my goodness, are you boys alright?”

After a beat of silence, Takahiro lifted his head and rested his forearms on Issei’s chest, winking at him with a big, impish smirk, which once again aggravated the cut on his lip. “Trust fall.”

“Okay, now I’m mad at you,” Issei snapped, irritably pushing Takahiro off of himself. His patience was completely gone.  

“Good, you’re finally admitting it!” Takahiro stood up and put his hands on his hips as he looked down at Issei, and then he glanced at his father, who appeared to be both concerned and confused. “Sorry about that, Dad. It was necessary. Issei’s been bottling up his feelings—like major denial. Emotional repression, if you will. And he clearly needed someone to help him get over it, so I gave him a little shove . . . in a manner of speaking.”

“Are you boys fighting about something?” Mr. Hanamaki asked as he turned back towards the sink, hesitantly resuming his efforts to wash the dishes. 

“We’re not fighting,” Issei said from where he was still on the floor, though he had managed to prop himself up on one elbow—the one that hadn’t absorbed all the impact from his fall. He was too angry to think straight, let alone get to his feet. “But it seems like Takahiro wants us to be.”

“I don’t want us to fight,” Takahiro corrected, sounding more serious than he had all morning. “I just want you to tell me when you’re upset with me. Preferably by using your words—not by getting all stoney and silent.”

Issei stared up at Takahiro, unable to say anything. He didn’t know how to respond to that.

Takahiro sighed and squatted down beside Issei, meeting his gaze. “You know, back when we were younger, you had no problem telling me off when I made you mad. You’d be like, ‘you’re being super annoying,’ and I’d be like, ‘oh okay, my bad,’ and then we’d be fine after that.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’ve just gotten less annoying,” Issei remarked sourly as he looked away and stared at the wall, since he was feeling too anxious and overwhelmed to make eye contact. Their conversation was close enough to an argument that it twisted him up inside and made his jaw tense. “Or maybe I’m just getting more mature, and that means I’m not gonna complain about pointless stuff.”

“Ignoring your feelings doesn’t make you mature,” Takahiro said, staring at Issei like he desperately wanted to be heard and understood. There wasn’t a single trace of mischief in his eyes or his words—and that kind of seriousness was a rare thing for him. “A few weeks before spring break started, I said something that seemed like it really bothered you. But then you just moved on and acted like it didn’t even happen. And you did the same thing, like . . . three months ago, when I took a joke too far. You were obviously upset, but instead of telling me about how you were feeling, you got quiet and wouldn’t look at me. And I can think of at least a dozen other times you’ve done that kind of thing in the past year. You’ve been stuffing your feelings down a lot more than you used to, and honestly, it’s freaking me out. I’m really worried about you—and about us. It feels like you’re slowly shutting me out.”

“So you want me to jump down your throat over little things that don’t even matter?” Issei asked, trying to remember exactly what Takahiro was referring to, though he couldn’t specifically pinpoint either of the situations that had been mentioned. 

However, he did know that he had been brushing things off, and he also knew it shouldn’t come as a surprise that his best friend took notice. He had no doubt that there were as many, if not quite a few more, situations that had been exactly like Takahiro had just described. But they all blurred together in his mind. He didn’t keep track of them, and he hadn’t thought anyone else was either.

“Little things that don’t seem like they matter become big things if we ignore them,” Takahiro continued as he stood up, leaning back against the counter. His gaze never shifted away from Issei’s face. “I value our friendship more than anything, and because of that, I want you to let me know when I’ve done something to upset you. Otherwise, there’s gonna be resentment . . . and that just leads to blow-ups and arguments, instead of civilized discussions that help us work through the problem.”

Those words reminded Issei of the argument his parents had right before he left for his class trip, and of all the other arguments he had overheard during the past few years, happening too many times to even count. He never saw his parents having calm, civilized discussions anymore. It was always snide comments from his father, and irritated glares from his mother, and passive aggressive behavior, and ignoring each other when they were upset, and fighting at night when they thought their kids weren’t listening, and blowing up at each other over things that didn’t seem like a big deal. 

If it was him in their place, he would rather hold his tongue than upset someone he cared about. 

And then he suddenly had one of those light-bulb moments.

When he was younger, he wanted more than anything to be like his father, who used to seem like the most perfect person in the entire world. But now he was afraid of that actually happening. He didn’t want to be harsh, and insensitive, and short-tempered, and emotionally unavailable. 

Growing up to be like his father had gone from his greatest wish to his deepest fear. 

And he had to finally acknowledge that there was a slight, small, itty-bitty, teeny-tiny chance that he may have subconsciously decided to avoid doing anything that might lead to disagreements between himself and his best friend, in order to avoid hurting his feelings by accident. He didn’t ever want to make Takahiro cry—or make anyone else cry, for that matter.  

All of those realizations took more than thirty seconds to work through, and it had become completely silent in the kitchen during that time. 

Issei was busy sitting on the floor as he mentally wrestled with his major perspective shift, Takahiro seemed to be patiently (and perhaps anxiously) waiting for a response, and Mr. Hanamaki, having just finished washing the dishes, was awkwardly standing in front of the sink, as if he knew he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

But eventually, Mr. Hanamaki broke the drawn-out silence, turning to look at his son with pride in his eyes and voice. “Pardon me for sticking my nose in your business, but that was really well put, kiddo. I dare say you’re wise beyond your years.” 

“I’m just repeating all that stuff you and Mom are always going on about,” Takahiro said, briefly glancing at his father. “Would you mind giving us the room?”

“Oh, of course. I’ll be upstairs,” Mr. Hanamaki said, quickly walking out of the kitchen. “Let me know when you’re ready to leave.”

Once they were alone, Takahiro rubbed the side of his neck, acting sheepish all of a sudden. He even started blushing. “Sorry for dumping all that on you just now. Guess you’re not the only one who’s been holding stuff in, huh?”

“You made some valid points,” Issei admitted as he slowly got to his feet. “But you’re also being kind of . . . hypocritical,” he said, forcing himself to look at Takahiro’s face so that he could see if hearing that made him angry. 

Rather than angry, Takahiro just seemed like he was curious, and perhaps a little bit surprised. “So you feel like I’m hypocritical because . . . I didn’t tell you I was upset . . . about you not telling me when you’re upset?”

“No, that’s not . . . I mean . . . well, yeah, that was hypocritical too. But I’m not upset that you didn’t tell me you were upset,” Issei said, shuffling his feet and putting his hands in his pockets. “I’m upset because you didn’t tell me about how bad things have gotten until just yesterday. It’s been worse for a long time, hasn’t it?”

“Oh, uhm . . . honestly, it’s been pretty bad for a while now,” Takahiro mumbled, glancing away and hunching his shoulders. “I’ve been getting really close to fainting throughout the day, and I passed out like, four or five other times before yesterday. I didn’t wanna tell you, ‘cause then you’d start worrying, and I know you’ve been stressed about your parents lately.”

“I’m really mad that you didn’t tell me sooner,” Issei said, trying to be more open about his feelings for Takahiro’s sake, despite how tense and nervous it made him. “You understand why, don’t you?”

“Yeah, I know.” Takahiro sat up on the counter that was behind him, leaning his head back against the cupboard. “I was hiding things from you, just like you were hiding being upset from me. It feels kinda shitty when we aren’t being honest with each other.”

“It does feel shitty when we’re not being honest with each other,” Issei agreed. “But that’s not why I’m mad.”

Takahiro tilted his head. “Why, then?”

“For a few reasons,” Issei replied, moving to lean against the counter beside Takahiro so that they were facing the same direction, because it was harder to talk about this when they were looking right at each other. “First of all, you promised you’d tell me if it got worse, and then you didn’t. And it just really scares me to think about you getting sicker and sicker without saying anything. I mean, what would I even do without you? What am I supposed to do if you . . . if you . . .”

“Kick the bucket?” Takahiro pulled Issei over so that he was standing right in front of him, and then he wrapped his arms around him, hugging him from behind. “I’m not dying. I’m gonna live a long, long life, and so are you.”

“You don’t know that for sure.” Issei murmured, putting his hands on Takahiro’s arms, which were overlapping across his chest. 

“True, but I still think you shouldn’t worry about it,” Takahiro said, his tone remaining completely serious. “And I’m really sorry for breaking my promise. If I promise never to break another one, would you believe me?”

Issei leaned his head to one side and looked back, staring at Takahiro’s face. Then he cracked a slight grin. “Yeah . . . against my better judgment.”

“I’ve always felt like I’m better at making judgment calls than you are,” Takahiro teased, resting his chin on Issei’s shoulder and hugging him more securely. “So maybe you should leave the judgment to me.”

Issei snorted as he relaxed in Takahiro’s embrace. “Sure, you can be my moral compass from now on.”

“Wow, that’s a super big responsibility. But I promise to take it very seriously,” Takahiro said, squeezing Issei once more before letting him go and getting down from the counter. “Now let’s head to the hospital, where they can stab me with needles for breaking my other promise to you.”

“Sounds like a fair punishment,” Issei joked, letting Takahiro lead the way out of the kitchen.

After they went and told Mr. Hanamaki that they were ready to leave, the three of them took a taxi to the hospital, where they had to check in at the front desk. 

It took less than thirty minutes for them to be called back by a nurse. Then they were escorted to an exam room, and after the nurse took Takahiro’s vitals, they were left to wait for Mr. Hanamaki’s old friend and former classmate. 

She didn’t keep them waiting long.

Doctor Kato was a short woman, standing at the same height as Issei’s mother, who was only 152 centimeters tall. But unlike Issei’s mother, she had naturally straight hair, which hardly went past her chin and was kept out of her face by lots of hair pins. She also had a rather strong, stocky build. And despite how professionally she came across, there was a certain playfulness in her eyes and deep laugh lines around her mouth that made her seem like someone with a good sense of humor. 

“It’s great to see you again, Hanamaki-sensei,” said Doctor Kato, closing the door behind herself after coming into the room. Then she looked at Takahiro, giving a genuine smile. “You’ve grown since I last saw you, Hanamaki-kun.”

“Uhm,” Takahiro said, drumming his fingers against the edge of the hospital bed he was sitting on. “Have we met before?”

“Only once, when you were just a baby,” Doctor Kato replied. Then her gaze landed on Issei, and she regarded him with a curious, friendly expression. “And who do we have here?”

“I’m Matsukawa Issei,” he said, standing so that he could politely bow. Then he returned to his seat. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“He’s Takahiro’s best friend,” Mr. Hanamaki added, sounding playful as he patted Issei’s shoulder. “Can’t take one to the hospital without the other.” 

“Having emotional support is important during times of stress and illness,” Doctor Kato said with a nod of approval.

And then she got down to business, turning her attention back to Takahiro as she listened to his heart and did a few other basic examinations.

After that, she went to sit next to the hospital bed, opening up his chart and adding a few notes to it. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to know the extent of your symptoms, including when they started and how often they occur.”

Takahiro nodded. “Sure. Uh, let’s see. The main problem is that I get stomach pain all the time. Sometimes it makes me throw up. And I get pretty lightheaded throughout the day. Oh, and I’ve fainted a few times, most recently this morning. That’s why I’ve got a busted lip.”

“That looks painful,” Doctor Kato remarked, glancing at Takahiro’s bottom lip, which was cracked and slightly swollen. “When did each of those symptoms start?”

“Uhm . . . a while ago . . .?” Takahiro looked at Issei for help.

“The stomach pain started about two years ago,” Issei said, sitting up taller in his chair. “He passed out for the first time a few months after that, when we were playing volleyball at the park. And then he started getting lightheaded on a regular basis last spring, usually during practice, or if he wasn’t able to eat much that day. He’s also been getting headaches since around that time, and when we were on our class trip a couple weeks ago, he got really short of breath. That’s a newer symptom I think,” he said, glancing at Takahiro to confirm. “Not sure how often it’s been happening.”

“That was the first time it happened,” Takahiro said. “I think it was just from how much we were walking around. Although . . . I have felt out of breath just from going up and down the stairs over the past week or two, which isn’t normal for me.”

“Interesting,” said Doctor Kato, taking more notes. Then she let out a quiet chuckle. “I can see why you wanted to bring your friend along, Hanamaki-kun. He seems to know your medical history better than you do.”

“Yeah, he’s got a mind for details,” Takahiro said, winking at Issei as he spoke. “The wheels are always churning in that old noggin of his.”

“Good friends are hard to come by, and well worth holding on to,” Doctor Kato said, glancing at each of the two boys, and then at Mr. Hanamaki, who smiled at her. She smiled back, and then she moved on to asking Takahiro a series of questions.

“Have you had any blood in your stools? By that, I mean streaks of dark red or black, or a tarry appearance.”

Takahiro shook his head.

“Have you vomited blood at all?”

Takahiro shook his head again.

“What about general weakness or unexpected weight loss?”

“I mean, kinda,” Takahiro replied. “I haven’t been able to eat well for a while, so I’m thinner than I used to be. And it’s been harder to keep up at practice.”

Doctor Kato wrote down a few more notes. “Any soreness of your tongue, like when you’re eating or swallowing or talking, or at any other time?” 

“Nope,” Takahiro replied, wiggling his tongue for a moment. “It’s been fine.”

“Any difficulty swallowing?”

Takahiro shook his head once again.

Doctor Kato hummed. “Your heart rate was a little high when the nurse took your vitals, and it was also high when I listened to it just now. Is that normal for you? And do you ever experience chest pain?”

“Maybe just a little bit, for chest pain,” Takahiro replied. “Not sure about how high my heart rate usually gets.”

“Hold out your hands,” she requested, looking closely at them once they were in front of her. Then she ran her thumbs over the edges of Takahiro’s fingernails, which were cracked and dented in some places. “Do you chew your nails?”

“Nope,” Takahiro said. “I’m not one for nervous habits like that.”  

“I see. So they’re just brittle, then.” Doctor Kato took one of Takahiro’s hands between her own. “Are your hands always this cold?”

Takahiro shrugged. “I dunno.”

“They didn’t used to be, but they’re always like that now,” Issei interjected. “Have been for at least six months, if not longer. His feet have been extra cold lately too.”

“Interesting,” Doctor Kato remarked, taking a few more notes. Then she looked at Mr. Hanamaki as she closed Takahiro’s chart. “I’d like to start with some blood work. We’ll cover all the usual bases, as well as a few other tests. There’s some things I’d like to rule out. Once we have the results, we’ll decide on our next step.” 

Mr. Hanamaki nodded. “Great, sounds like a plan.”

“I’ll send someone in soon to collect the blood samples,” Doctor Kato said, getting to her feet. “It might take an hour or so to get the results back.”

“You know,” Mr. Hanamaki said, “watching you examine someone reminded me of our time as interns.”

“Ah, yes, those were the days.” Doctor Kato let out a nostalgic sigh. “May we never be that sleep deprived again.” 

“And may we never run out of coffee,” Mr. Hanamaki added as he and Doctor Kato simultaneously pretended to hold up imaginary cups, toasting with them and dumping them over their shoulders, like they were referencing something specific from their shared past. Then they both laughed. 

Takahiro and Issei glanced at each other as if they were thinking the same thing, which was that Mr. Hanamaki was a dorky guy with dorky friends. But they loved him for it.

“Well, I have some other patients to see, so please excuse me for the time being,” Doctor Kato said, heading towards the door. She paused before opening it, briefly glancing at each of the other three people in the room. “When the blood draw is finished, feel free to wait in my office. I’ll have a nurse escort you there. It’s much more private and comfortable, and any further testing will have to be done in other parts of the building anyway.”

“We appreciate your hospitality,” Mr. Hanamaki said. 

Issei nodded in agreement. “Yeah, thank you.”

“Thanks,” Takahiro said, though he sounded slightly nervous all of a sudden. And he was rubbing the crook of his arm, where blood was usually drawn from, as if he were dreading it.

Doctor Kato left the exam room after that, leaving the three of them alone.

“She seems nice,” Issei remarked, deciding it would be better to distract Takahiro with casual conversation, rather than talk about the upcoming blood draw. “How long has she been working here?”

“Just a few years,” Mr. Hanamaki replied as he folded his hands in his lap. “After medical school, she stayed in Tokyo and worked for the hospital we interned at. But she grew up here, and most of her family is here. That’s what made her move back.”

Issei hummed. “Guess it’s hard to be away from family, huh?” 

“It certainly is,” Mr. Hanamaki agreed, smiling sadly. “I wish I got to see my parents and sisters more often. And my nephews, for that matter.” He looked over at Takahiro, who was still sitting up on the hospital bed. “It’s been . . . what, three or four years since you last saw your cousins?”

Takahiro was silently staring at the wall, looking especially pale and nervous. 

“The last time they came back to Japan was when we were still in elementary school,” Issei said, in reference to the youngest of Mr. Hanamaki’s three older sisters and her family. “I’m pretty sure we were ten.”

Mr. Hanamaki rubbed his chin. “Yes, I think you’re right.”

Issei got up and went to stand right in front of Takahiro, studying his face. “You doing okay?”  

“Who, me?” Takahiro let out a chuckle, though it was obviously forced. “I’m just peachy.”

“Maybe you should lie down,” Issei suggested. 

“Oh, that’s a great idea,” Mr. Hanamaki said.  “They can even draw your blood like that.”

Hearing that made Takahiro shudder, and then he crossed his arms. “Is that really necessary? I mean, I already lost blood today when I busted my lip open. Is it even safe to lose more?”

“If blood loss from a small cut was enough to put someone at risk, there’d be a lot more medical emergencies to deal with every day,” Mr. Hanamaki said in a playful tone, though his expression was sympathetic. It was no secret that his son was scared of needles.

Takahiro hunched forward, crossing his arms even tighter. “Maybe I’m a special case. For all we know, I’m at death’s doorstep, and losing a vial of blood might just be the final push.”

“It’ll probably be more like six or seven vials,” Mr. Hanamaki said. Then he covered his mouth, like he immediately regretted saying that.

“Six or seven,” Takahiro squeaked, somehow getting even paler than he already had been. “That’s . . . who . . . what . . . where . . . when . . . why so many?!”

“Kato-sensei likes to be thorough,” Mr. Hanamaki replied, giving an apologetic smile. “That, and even routine blood work tends to take at least three or four.”

“Just relax,” Issei said, pushing Takahiro back until he was lying down. Then he pried Takahiro’s arms apart so that he could massage the palm of his hand, which was a trick his mother always used to calm him down before he got shots as a little kid. “It’s probably gonna take ‘em a while to get around to drawing your blood, so you might as well rest for a few minutes.”

As it turned out, Issei was wrong about that. There was a knock on the door almost as soon as he finished speaking, and then a woman wearing red scrubs entered the room, pulling a cart in after herself.

“Hello, I’ll be your phlebotomist today. I’m here to collect some blood samples,” said the phlebotomist. Then she picked up a strip of small rectangular stickers. “Can you confirm your name and date of birth for me?” 

“Hanamaki Takahiro,” he muttered with great reluctance as he stared at his hand, which Issei was still massaging. “January 27th, 1995.”

“Perfect,” the phlebotomist said. She slipped on a pair of gloves and pulled a total of ten vials from her cart, putting a sticker on each one. And then she walked over to the bed with some other supplies in hand. “Do you know which arm’s your good one?”

“They’re both terrible,” Takahiro grumbled, making a face. 

“His left arm is better,” Mr. Hanamaki said, not getting up from his chair. 

“All right . . . or should I say, all left,” the phlebotomist joked, which made both her and Mr. Hanamaki giggle. 

However, Takahiro didn’t find it amusing, and Issei remained solemn to show solidarity.

“Will you remove your jacket?” asked the phlebotomist.

Takahiro grumpily took off his jacket without sitting all the way up, and then he held his right hand out towards Issei again, clearly wanting him to continue massaging it. 

And so Issei took Takahiro’s hand, rubbing slow circles on his palm.

“I’m going to tie this around your arm and feel for a vein,” the phlebotomist said, wrapping a stretchy band of rubber around Takahiro’s bicep and tying it off. Then she pressed around at the crook of his arm. “Oh, nice. There’s a really good one right here.”

When the phlebotomist used an alcohol pad to clean the crook of Takahiro’s arm, he visibly clenched up his body. Then he locked eyes with Issei, who was still diligently massaging his palm, and pouted at him.

“You’ll feel a slight pinch,” the phlebotomist said as she inserted the collection needle, filling the first vial with blood. 

At that point, Takahiro whimpered softly and screwed his eyes shut, which made Issei squeeze his hand. 

The phlebotomist pressed vial after vial to the open end of the collection needle, and by the time the sixth one was filled, Takahiro’s face and body relaxed. He had gone limp.

“I think he just passed out,” Issei said, still holding Takahiro’s hand between his own. 

“Good thing he was already lying down,” the phlebotomist remarked in a cheerful voice. She expertly filled the last few vials with just one hand, holding the collection needle steady with her other and untying the rubber band when the last vial was nearly full. Then she removed the needle and pressed a cotton swab to the crook of Takahiro’s arm, covering it with a bandage. “All done!”

“Hey,” Issei said, gently patting the side of Takahiro’s face. “It’s over now.”

It took several moments for Takahiro to regain consciousness, and once he did, he looked at all the vials that the phlebotomist was putting into her cart. Then he looked down at his arm. “Well, I’m glad that’s over.”

“You did great!” the phlebotomist said, smiling as she started pushing her cart out of the room.

And then a nurse walked in. “Hey folks, Kato-sensei asked me to escort you to her office.”

“Great, thank you,” Mr. Hanamaki said, getting to his feet. But then he looked at Takahiro. “Think you’ll be able to walk?”

“I can grab a wheelchair real quick,” the nurse offered, glancing from Mr. Hanamaki to Takahiro before taking a step back, like he was about to go get one without waiting for confirmation. 

“I’ll be fine,” Takahiro insisted as he sat up, waving Issei away when he tried to help him. Then he grabbed his jacket and scooted off the hospital bed, but he immediately collapsed once he was standing.

Issei had been half-expecting that, so he caught Takahiro easily when he fainted, holding him up with both arms. “I think we’ll be needing that wheelchair.”

The nurse quickly left, coming back with a wheelchair less than a minute later. 

Takahiro had regained consciousness by then, so he was fully alert when Issei pushed him out of the room in the wheelchair. They were following the nurse and Mr. Hanamaki, and before too long, they were in Doctor Kato’s office. The nurse left them there to wait for the results of the blood work, letting Takahiro keep the wheelchair. 

In order to pass the time, Issei and Mr. Hanamaki made small talk.

As for Takahiro, after listening to the others talk for about forty-five minutes, he started kicking his wheelchair back, balancing it at an angle for as long as he could. It kept him entertained for a while. He continued doing that up until he tipped over backwards, spared from hitting his head on the floor only because Issei had caught him, having been watching him closely as he goofed around. 

“Man, I’m so bored,” Takahiro said, picking at the bandaid that was on the crook of his arm. He would almost certainly still be trying to balance in his wheelchair if not for Issei locking the wheels and smacking his hand away whenever he tried to unlock them. “Also, not to concern anyone too much, but I’m literally starving.”

“That’s not surprising,” Mr. Hanamaki remarked, glancing at Takahiro with a sympathetic grin. “You only had a few bites of your breakfast.”

“I wasn’t hungry then,” Takahiro grumbled. “But I’m hungry now, and if I don’t get some food in me soon, I’m gonna bite someone’s arm.”

Issei jokingly scooted his chair away from Takahiro’s wheelchair. “In that case, I better keep my distance.”

“I’ll get you something from the cafeteria,” Mr. Hanamaki offered, standing up and heading towards the door of the small office. He paused after opening it, glancing at Issei from the doorway. “Would you like anything?” 

“Nah, that’s okay,” Issei replied. “I’m still full from breakfast.”

“Well, aren’t you lucky,” Takahiro muttered, dejectedly hunching all the way forward so that his arms were dangling down, almost reaching the floor.

“Be back in a few minutes,” Mr. Hanamaki said, leaving the room.

“Ugh, my head hurts,” Takahiro complained as he sat up and looked at Issei, who had scooted his chair even further away, so that they were on opposite sides of the room. “How long have we been waiting in here?”

“About an hour,” Issei replied, moving his chair closer again.

There were only three other chairs in the room. A very comfortable-looking one behind the desk, and then the only slightly less comfortable ones across from it, where patients or coworkers were expected to sit. 

Takahiro sighed, leaning an elbow on the arm of his wheelchair so that he could rest his cheek on his fist. “I’m so fucking bored right now.”  

Issei looked around the room, seeing a stack of paper near a printer, which was on a bookshelf behind the desk. So he went over and took a piece of it, grabbing some pens and a clipboard off the desk afterwards. 

Then he brought it all back to his seat. “Wanna play tic-tac-toe?”

“Sure,” Takahiro said, taking one of the pens and sitting up a little taller. “I’ll be X.”

“I’m O, then,” Issei replied, drawing four lines on the paper. “You go first.”

Takahiro drew an X in the middle box, like he always did when he went first. Then Issei took his turn. They went back and forth a few times, always cutting each other off from getting three in a row. Neither of them won. And they played several more games, always ending in a tie.

“Wanna play again?” Issei asked, flipping the paper over. 

“Not really,” Takahiro replied as he set his pen down on the clipboard. “I wanna go home, eat a big-ass plate of food, and take a super long nap.”

“A nap would be great right about now,” Issei said, letting out a yawn. He wished he hadn’t gotten up so early—not that he had done so on purpose. 

“I’m gonna close my eyes for a bit,” Takahiro decided, scooting down in his wheelchair, until his legs were way out in front of him. He rested his head on the back of it, and it seemed like he fell asleep within a couple of minutes. 

After that, Issei waited quietly, doodling on the paper that was still on his lap. He knew he wouldn’t be able to fall asleep in a chair, but he was glad Takahiro could manage to do that. It might take the edge off his grumpy mood. 

All of a sudden, the office door opened, but it wasn’t Mr. Hanamaki who stepped into the room. It was Doctor Kato, and she had Takahiro’s chart in hand. 

“The blood work results came back,” Doctor Kato said, looking around. “Did Hanamaki-sensei have to go somewhere?”

“He went to the cafeteria,” Issei replied as he set the clipboard and pens down in an empty chair. “What’s the blood work say?”

“I’m not supposed to disclose test results to someone who isn’t the patient or their immediate family,” Doctor Kato said, going over to sit at her desk.

“He’s basically like family,” Takahiro countered, having just opened his eyes and lifted his head. Then he sat up in his chair and crossed his arms, appearing tense. “So, did all that blood I had to hand over give us any answers?”

“I’ll wait for your father to go over it in detail, but your blood work is mostly normal,” Doctor Kato said, her voice calm. “There’s just one area of concern.”

“What’s the concern?” Issei asked, feeling a wave of anxiety crash down on him. 

Thankfully, the answer was given before he could come up with a worse-case scenario. 

“His iron levels are very low,” Doctor Kato replied, setting Takahiro’s chart down on the desk. Then she looked at Takahiro with a calculating expression. “You’re sure you’ve never had blood in your stool or vomit?”

“Well, it’s not like I inspect the toilet every time I use it,” Takahiro replied. “But I’ve always seen what my puke looks like, and I never saw any blood in it. Just partially digested food.”

Doctor Kato hummed. “Have you noticed any correlation between getting nauseous and eating fatty foods?” 

“I’m not sure,” Takahiro said, glancing at Issei for his opinion.

Issei shrugged. “I’m not sure, either.”

“There was no presence of H. pylori in your blood,” Doctor Kato noted, almost more to herself than to the others. “A breath test would be more accurate though. That is, unless you’ve been taking antacids.” 

“I took some of those last night,” Takahiro said. “My stomach was hurting after dinner.” 

“That might give us a false-negative for the breath test,” Doctor Kato murmured, tapping her fingers together. Then she tilted her head and froze, like something important had just occurred to her. “You said you play volleyball, correct?”

Takahiro nodded. “Yep, since the beginning of middle school.”

Doctor Kato opened Takahiro’s chart and wrote something inside of it. “And since starting volleyball, have you ever taken medications to relieve sore muscles?” 

“Yeah,” Takahiro replied as he slouched to one side, resting his chin on his fist. “I almost always take Advil before bed.”

“I see,” Doctor Kato said, writing something else in the chart. “That might explain it.”

The office door opened again, and Mr. Hanamaki stepped into the room, holding a pork cutlet sandwich that was wrapped in plastic. “I got you the best thing they had,” he said. Then he saw Doctor Kato, so he smiled at her. “You’re back sooner than I was expecting. You already got results from the blood work, I take it?”

“I have the results right here,” Doctor Kato confirmed, putting her pen down and reaching for some of the papers in Takahiro’s chart, offering them to Mr. Hanamaki. “I also have a theory.”

“Let’s hear it,” Mr. Hanamaki said, handing the sandwich to Takahiro before going over to take the papers. Then he sat down and started skimming over them. 

“You shouldn’t eat that,” Doctor Kato said, glancing at the sandwich that Takahiro was trying to unwrap. “I’d like to call the gastroenterology department to see if they can get you in for an endoscopy today, and you’ll need to fast for that.”

“An endoscopy?” Mr. Hanamaki looked up from the paperwork and took the sandwich back from Takahiro, who immediately started sulking over the loss of food. “Are you thinking he has an ulcer?”

“I believe so,” Doctor Kato replied. “His symptoms are consistent with that, and he’s been taking Advil daily for the past three years. But it’s always best to rule out stomach cancer by taking a look. With how many cases of that we’ve been having, one can never be too cautious.”

“I didn’t know you’ve been taking Advil every day,” Mr. Hanamaki said, turning towards Takahiro with a puzzled expression. 

Takahiro was desperately staring at the sandwich in his father’s hands like he wanted to snatch it and devour it, regardless of Doctor Kato’s wishes. “After we joined the volleyball club, I got in the habit of taking some before bed. I didn’t like being sore all the time. Made it hard to fall asleep.”

Issei cleared his throat, which was feeling rather tight. “You mentioned stomach cancer?”

“Yes, that’s right,” Doctor Kato said with a solemn nod. “It’s an unlikely possibility. But the risk is always there with symptoms like Hanamaki-kun’s been having, and it’s best to rule it out.”

“Will they be able to do an endoscopy today?” Mr. Hanamaki asked, checking his watch for the time. “It’s almost noon.”

“I’ll call the department and see what we can do,” Doctor Kato promised, reaching for the phone that was on her desk. 

Takahiro was still staring at the sandwich his father was holding, but apparently, he had also been paying attention to the conversation. “What’s an endoscopy?”

“A simple procedure that sends a small tube with a camera down your throat,” Mr. Hanamaki replied matter-of-factly. “It gives a view of the esophagus, stomach, and upper intestines.”

“Lovely,” Takahiro muttered, glancing at Issei with a grimace. “They’re gonna violate my throat with a tube.”

“Maybe it won’t be that bad,” Issei said, trying to sound encouraging, though he certainly didn’t envy his best friend at that moment. 

“You’ll be sedated, so you won’t have to worry about discomfort during the procedure,” Mr. Hanamaki said in a reassuring tone. “From what I understand, most people don’t even remember it.”

Doctor Kato looked at Takahiro, holding the phone away from her face as she spoke. “When did you last eat?”

“A really, really long time ago,” Takahiro replied irritably. 

“He had a few bites of food around 8:35 this morning,” Issei corrected. “And a cup of tea with cream and sugar right before that.”

“Thank you,” Doctor Kato said, putting the phone back to her ear. 

Meanwhile, Mr. Hanamaki turned to Takahiro and affectionately squeezed his shoulder. “I bet you’ll be one of the only people at school who’s had this procedure done. That’ll be something neat to brag about, don’t you think?”

“Not really,” Takahiro replied, looking thoroughly displeased. “No one wants to hear about that kind of thing. Man, I wish I broke my arm instead. Everyone thought Issei was so cool back when he had to wear a cast.”

“You wouldn’t be able to play volleyball if you were wearing a cast,” Issei pointed out. 

“That’s true,” Takahiro sighed. “I guess this isn’t as inconvenient.”

“Actually . . .” Mr. Hanamaki looked back down at the paperwork that Doctor Kato had given him. “I’m afraid your iron is so low that it’s not safe for you to play volleyball right now, and it might take several months to get it to a normal level. You’re severely anemic.”

Takahiro turned to look at Issei, and they stared at each other for a long moment, wearing the same disappointed expression.

Then he glanced at his father. “How long until I can play again?”

“If you start taking supplements today, I’d say at least two weeks,” Mr. Hanamaki replied. “But we should see what Kato-sensei thinks. You’re her patient right now, not mine.”

Doctor Kato had just gotten off the phone. “You’re in luck, Hanamaki-kun. There was an open slot at four o’clock today. I had them put you on the schedule, so you’re all set.”

“That’s great news!” Mr. Hanamaki said, his gaze shifting from Doctor Kato to Takahiro, who looked rather glum. “Oh, we were just talking about how long he needs to wait before playing volleyball again. He starts high school in about a week.”

“Assuming the endoscopy rules out other issues and reveals a relatively small, uncomplicated ulcer, I’d suggest waiting two months before resuming strenuous physical activities,” Doctor Kato advised as she folded her hands on her desk. “Considering how low his iron levels are, it might take that long for them to return to normal. But his symptoms should start improving within three weeks of treatment.”

“Two months won’t be that bad,” Issei said, looking at Takahiro with an encouraging grin. “And even if you’re not playing yet, you’ll still be part of the team.”

“Great, I’ll get to warm the bench during practice,” Takahiro muttered, eyeing the sandwich that his father had on his lap. He was all but drooling over it.

“I’ll want him on supplements for up to a year to restore his iron reserves. And if I’m right about the ulcer, I’d like another endoscopy done in a couple of months, just so we can confirm that it’s healed properly.” Doctor Kato checked her watch and stood up, heading for the door. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m late for a meeting. You can come back later for the endoscopy, or if you’d prefer, feel free to wait here in my office. There’s a television in that cabinet over there.”

“Thank you,” Mr. Hanamaki said with an appreciative smile. “And thank you for seeing us on such short notice.”

“It was my pleasure,” Doctor Kato replied, grinning at her old friend. Then she looked at Takahiro as she opened the door. “It was good seeing you, Hanamaki-kun. I hope you feel better soon.” She gave Issei a friendly nod before stepping out of the room. “It was nice meeting you.”

At that moment, Takahiro was staring at the sandwich again, and once Doctor Kato closed the door, he let out a long, miserable sigh and slid so far down in his wheelchair that he almost fell to the floor. “Today couldn’t get any worse.”

“You’ve still got that super fun throat thing to look forward to,” Issei teased, attempting to lighten the mood. The endoscopy would either bring them peace of mind, or a whole hell of a lot of stress.

“If I knew I was gonna get something shoved down my throat, I wouldn’t have come here at all,” Takahiro grumbled, scowling at nothing in particular. 

“I would’ve dragged you here one way or another,” Issei said, watching his best friend act like a sad sack of potatoes. “Would it make you feel better if I promise to buy you ice cream after you’re done getting your stomach looked at?”

“Hey now, that’s supposed to be my job,” Mr. Hanamaki said as he went to open the cupboard that held the television. “When we’re done at the hospital, I’ll get some for both of you.”

“Can we each get a whole carton?” Takahiro asked, wriggling himself higher up in his wheelchair so that he could sit taller, giving him a better view of the television. 

“Sure,” Mr. Hanamaki replied as he looked for the remote. “We’ll stop at the store and bring some home for everyone.”

“I didn’t mean I wanted to share mine,” Takahiro clarified, crossing his arms. 

“You won’t have to,” Mr. Hanamaki said with a chuckle. “You can each choose your favorite flavor, and I’ll bring everyone else their favorite too. It’ll be nice to have a little ice cream party after dinner.”

Once the remote was located, the three of them watched television in Doctor Kato’s office for a few hours, and Issei ended up eating the sandwich that Mr. Hanamaki had purchased. Although he ate it in the hallway, so as not to make Takahiro suffer through watching someone else enjoy food when he was hungry.

And then it was time for the procedure, which didn’t take long at all. Much to the relief of everyone present, the results were available right away, revealing that Takahiro had a total of four ulcers and no signs of cancer. 

They had to wait for the sedative to wear off before leaving, and then they took a taxi from the hospital to the pharmacy, followed by the grocery store. Mr. Hanamaki let the two boys wait in the car while he ran inside at each stop, because Takahiro was too tired and hungry to get out and move around. 

When they made it to the house, Mr. Hanamaki took the lead with a few grocery bags in hand, and Issei followed along with Takahiro on his back.

Misumi met them at the front door. “Aw, my poor little boy looks so tired.” 

Takahiro let out a pitiful groan.

“How’d it go?” Misumi asked, following Issei as he carried Takahiro into the living room. 

“I got tortured all day long,” Takahiro said in a weak, quiet voice. “And now my throat hurts.”

“The endoscopy went well,” Mr. Hanamaki added. “He’s got a few ulcers, but everything else looks good. Just need to treat those and the anemia now.”

“Did you already pick up the prescriptions?” Misumi asked, watching Issei carefully lower Takahiro onto the couch. 

Mr. Hanamaki nodded as he started walking towards the kitchen. “Grabbed them on the way home. Our son claims he’s on the verge of starving to death, so I’ll get dinner started.”

“It’s already on the stove,” Misumi said, smiling at her husband. Then she looked at Takahiro, seeing the cut on his lip for the first time. “What happened to your mouth?”

“The floor.” Takahiro curled up in a ball on the couch. “Sleep now.”

Issei sat down near Takahiro and relaxed, grinning when Takahiro scooted closer to him and used his lap as a pillow. Then he rested an arm over Takahiro’s shoulder and closed his eyes. It had been a long day for him as well, and a quick nap was just what he needed. 

However, their peace and quiet was disrupted when Rei came into the room, running right over to her big brother. 

“Did the hospital fix you?” she asked, shaking him to wake him up—not that he had been able to fall asleep yet.

“They stabbed me with needles and shoved stuff down my throat,” Takahiro replied weakly, with his forehead still pressed against Issei’s hip.

Rei gasped and covered her mouth. “That’s horrible!”

“It really was,” Takahiro said, rolling over to face his sister, though he kept his head on Issei’s lap. “Wanna know the worst part?”

“Did they do that to you?!” Rei asked, pointing at Takahiro’s busted lip, which was still a little swollen. 

“What? No, that was from something else. The worst part is that they wouldn’t let me eat anything all day.” Takahiro rubbed his throat, which had been raw and scratchy since right after the endoscopy was over. “I’m literally on the brink of starvation right now, so go get me some ice cream, will you?”

“Okay!” Rei hurried to the kitchen, where her parents were looking over Takahiro’s prescriptions. “I need to get some ice cream.”

“Not until after dinner,” Misumi said, handing Rei a stack of plates. “Go set the table, please.”

“Tell my mom I can’t eat dinner—only ice cream,” Takahiro whispered, looking up at Issei from where he was still resting his head on his lap. “I can’t talk loud enough for her to hear me.”

“Takahiro says he can’t eat dinner,” Issei called out calmly from the couch. “Only ice cream.”

“What is he, a toddler?” Etsu scoffed, having just come downstairs. 

“Tell my sister she’s a bitch,” Takahiro whispered. 

“I’m not saying that to her in front of your parents,” Issei whispered back. 

“Fine, I’ll improvise,” Takahiro said, flipping his older sister off. 

In response, she just rolled her eyes at him and went into the kitchen. “Is dinner ready?”

“Just about,” Misumi replied, glancing at her eldest daughter. “How’s the packing going?”

“I’m basically done.” Etsu sat up on the counter, near where her parents had laid out Takahiro’s prescriptions. She picked one up and read the label. “Why does Takahiro need laxatives?”

“Because he’s going to be taking a high dose of iron,” Mr. Hanamaki replied. 

“Tell my dad he’s violating my privacy by discussing my medications without my consent,” Takahiro whispered, rolling back over to press his forehead against Issei’s hip. 

“Takahiro doesn’t want you guys talking about how constipated he’s gonna be,” Issei relayed in a serious voice, earning a pinch on the arm from his best friend, which made him chuckle. 

And then Takahiro seemed to fall asleep, so Issei closed his eyes and leaned his head against the back of the couch, catching a twenty minute catnap. He drifted in and out of consciousness until Misumi announced that dinner was ready. 

Everyone gathered in the dining room after that, including Issei and Takahiro, who once again asked to be carried. 

Etsu raised an eyebrow as she watched Issei set Takahiro down in a chair, right across the table from her. “What’s with the wounded princess act? And why does it look like you got punched in the mouth?” 

Instead of responding, Takahiro stuck his tongue out at his older sister. 

“He says he’s not up for a conversation right now,” Issei said with a grin, making a game of being Takahiro’s interpreter. 

“It was a long day for him,” Mr. Hanamaki added as he brought a large serving dish of meat and vegetables to the table. “He had an unpleasant procedure done at the hospital.”

“Oh yeah?” Etsu studied Takahiro in a genuinely curious manner, because anything related to hospitals and medical care tended to pique her interest. “What kind of procedure?”

Takahiro didn’t say anything, so Issei answered for him. “A throat tube thing to look in his stomach.” 

“It’s called an endoscopy,” Mr. Hanamaki clarified. 

“Cool,” Etsu said, resting her elbows on the table. “Wish I could’ve watched.”

Takahiro snorted and rolled his eyes. 

“He says that would’ve made him uncomfortable,” Issei said in a solemn tone.

“Why are you talking for him?” Etsu asked. “Is he making you do everything for him now?”

“His throat hurts,” Issei replied plainly. Then he grinned at Misumi, who had just set a large bowl of rice down in front of him. “Thank you.”

“If it’s that bad, maybe we should blend up his dinner,” Etsu suggested, looking at her brother with a devilish gleam in her eyes. “Hand me your plate and I’ll help you out with that.”

Takahiro twisted his mouth thoughtfully and shrugged. 

“He says that’s not a bad idea,” Issei said, watching Takahiro point at his sister’s plate. “And he thinks you should blend your dinner up too while you’re at it.”

Etsu wrinkled her nose. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on drinking my dinner.”

Takahiro sighed and shook his head. 

“He says it’s a real shame that you’re being so cold towards him right before you leave town,” Issei said, keeping a straight face. “That could’ve been a special bonding moment.” 

Misumi had just finished giving everyone a bowl of rice, so she took her seat, getting an emotional look on her face. “I can’t believe my little girl is moving away tomorrow. Just think, this is our last family dinner for who knows how long.”

“I’ll only be a few hours away,” Etsu said as she put some meat and vegetables on top of her rice. “If I’m not too busy with my studies, I’ll come home once a week.”

“You might find yourself much busier than you’d like to be,” Mr. Hanamaki remarked, smiling in a wise, almost nostalgic kind of way. “Medical school isn’t exactly a walk in the park. But don’t worry, kiddo. We’ll come to Tokyo as much as we can. I’ve been meaning to see my parents more often anyway, so it’ll be a good excuse.” 

“You’re gonna stay with our lepspian aunt, aren’t you?” Rei asked as she got herself a few pieces of meat, piling them on the plate that was beside her bowl of rice. 

“The word you’re looking for is lesbian ,” Etsu corrected. “And yes, I’m staying with Auntie and her girlfriend.”

“It was so nice of them to offer their home,” Misumi said as she poured herself some tea. “Make sure you help out with the chores, and don’t cause them any trouble.”

“I know,” Etsu said, holding back an eye roll. 

“My parents said you’re welcome to stay with them if it feels too crowded at my sister’s place,” Mr. Hanamaki remarked. “Even with your aunt and uncle living there now, they still have two extra bedrooms.”

“Yeah, they told me,” Etsu said. “My plan is to stay with Auntie for a couple years, and then live with Grandma and Grandpa after that.”

“That’s a wonderful plan.” Mr. Hanamaki was grinning, though he also seemed like he was holding back tears, as was his wife. “That way, you’ll get lots of time with all our Tokyo relatives.”

Misumi nodded as she blinked fast, subtly wiping one of her eyes. “I hope you make lots of fun memories with them.”

Upon noticing the sentimental atmosphere in the room, Takahiro held up both hands, making a box with his pointer fingers and thumbs. His actions were directed at his older sister. 

“He wants to know if that thing is ready yet,” Issei translated, taking a bite of his food right afterwards. As always, Misumi’s cooking was delicious.

Etsu acted like it physically pained her to acknowledge what Issei had said on Takahiro’s behalf, let alone respond to it like she and her brother were actually having a conversation. “Yeah, it’s ready.”

Takahiro tapped one finger on the back of his wrist, and then he hugged himself.

“He says there’s no time like the present when it comes to presents and presence,” Issei said, smiling at his own play on words, though he wondered if Mr. Hanamaki’s sense of humor had been rubbing off on him over the years.

“I’ll give it to them after dinner,” Etsu said, turning her attention to eating her vegetables. 

“Give what to who after dinner?” Rei asked, tilting her head. “Oh, wait, are you talking about the pic—”

“Sure is good food we’re eating! You should try some,” Etsu interrupted, giving her sister a sharp look. “It’ll keep your mouth busy.”

Takahiro held both hands up in front of his mouth, wiggling his fingers at his little sister. 

“He says it’s important to keep ourselves from revealing other people’s secrets,” Issei said in a philosophical manner, which made Takahiro nod sagely in agreement.

“Are you kids planning on pranking us?” Misumi asked in a wary voice. “You know I love it when you do things together, but it was a pain in the butt cleaning up the mess you all made last summer. The rug still has that big, ugly stain on it.”

Takahiro waved a hand dismissively. Then he covered his eyes, grinning as wide as his busted lip would allow.

“He says not to worry,” Issei said. “And that you’ll have to wait and see.”

Etsu looked at Takahiro with an annoyed scowl on her face. “Is what he’s saying actually what you mean, or is it a bunch of bullshit?”

In response, Takahiro tapped his temple using two fingers, and then he winked. 

“He says it’s like I’m reading his mind,” Issei said in a perfectly calm voice, though it took an incredible amount of restraint to hold back his laughter. 

As it turned out, Takahiro was in the same boat. The two of them were thoroughly enjoying their silly little game, and when they glanced at each other, they both burst out laughing. 

However, that made Takahiro’s lip split open once again, and it also seemed to hurt his throat. So he pressed a napkin to his mouth as he tried to regain control of himself. 

The conversation died down after that, and everyone ate their dinner—even Takahiro, though he only finished his rice. He made gestures about how the meat was too spicy for his sore throat. Apparently, he had dedicated himself to not talking, since it was so entertaining to let Issei guess what he meant whenever he wanted to communicate. 

When they were all done with their dinner, Etsu went upstairs in a hurry, disappearing for a few minutes. Then she came back with a small wrapped box, which she gave to her mother as she sat back down at the table. “This is for you and Dad.”

“Should I open it right now?” Misumi asked, perking up over the unexpected gift. 

“Go ahead,” Etsu replied, smirking like she was incredibly pleased with herself. 

Mr. Hanamaki got up and went to stand behind his wife, and then the box was unwrapped, revealing a picture frame. There was a piece of paper covering the glass.

“Wow, this is a nice frame,” Mr. Hanamaki remarked. As an avid photographer, he knew a thing or two about picture frames. “It’s made from oak, isn’t it?”

“Look under the paper,” Etsu ordered somewhat impatiently, leaning closer with anticipation. 

Mr. Hanamaki peeled at the tape that was holding down the paper, which took a few seconds. Then he uncovered the photograph that had been taken a few days earlier, and after seeing all of the ridiculously thick eyebrows that had been drawn on everyone, he and Misumi started to laugh uncontrollably. 

Every time they looked at the photograph again, more laughter came, until they were both doubled over and clutching their sides.  

“Oh my goodness,” Misumi said, trying to catch her breath. “This is the best thing I’ve ever seen!”

Mr. Hanamaki nodded enthusiastically. “It’s perfect!”

“It was Issei’s idea,” Takahiro announced, finally breaking his silence. 

“Not just mine,” Issei said. “Eh-chan wanted a picture like that video of me and Takahiro as babies.” 

“I wanted to do something nice for you guys before I leave,” Etsu admitted in an almost bashful way. Only those who knew her very well would recognize the subtle change in her expression. “To show my appreciation for everything you’ve done for me.”

After hearing those words, Mr. Hanamaki covered his mouth, and tears started running down his face. 

“Oh, honey,” Misumi said, looking almost as emotional as her husband. “What a thoughtful thing to do.”

Mr. Hanamaki was too weepy to speak, but he did hug Etsu, and then Misumi came over to hug her from the other side. 

The excessive display of affection was only tolerated for a few seconds before Etsu awkwardly cleared her throat. “Well, it’s about time for dessert. Isn’t there ice cream?”

“That’s right,” Mr. Hanamaki said, releasing his daughter from his embrace and wiping his eyes on a napkin. Then he walked towards the kitchen. “We’ve got strawberry, vanilla, green tea, mint chocolate chip, caramel swirl, and birthday cake.”

“Wow, you got so many different kinds!” Rei exclaimed, watching her father pull six cartons of ice cream out of the freezer.

“I picked up everyone’s favorite,” Mr. Hanamaki said, wiping a stray tear on the back of his wrist. “It would be nice to have a special movie night one more time before Eh-chan leaves for college.”

“Who gets to pick what we watch?” Rei asked as she stacked up dirty dishes, helping her mother bring them to the kitchen sink.

Misumi smiled, looking from her youngest daughter to her eldest one. “We should let Eh-chan choose, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, that seems fair,” Rei said with a nod.

“Oh, so just ‘cause she’s leaving, we have to watch whatever boring crap she wants,” Takahiro muttered under his breath, so that only Issei could hear him. Then the two of them went over to sit on the couch.

Issei grinned as he got settled in beside his best friend. 

Throughout his childhood, he had often been invited to join the Hanamaki family when they would eat ice cream while watching a movie, a tradition that usually happened on Saturday nights. And he was grateful to be there for the last one before Etsu moved on to a new chapter in life. 

He was also grateful that Takahiro’s health would be improving over the next few weeks, and that when they started their next chapter of life at Aoba Johsai High School, they would still be able to play volleyball together. 

Chapter Text

The day after Takahiro was diagnosed with anemia and multiple ulcers, Etsu moved to Tokyo for college, accompanied by her parents and little sister, as well as Asami and Kazuki, both of whom had been invited along for the Hanamaki family’s spur-of-the-moment vacation. They all stayed in Tokyo for a week, helping Etsu get settled in and making the most of their trip by spending time with Mr. Hanamaki’s side of the family. 

As for Takahiro, he stayed home to rest and recover. But he wasn’t alone. 

He and Issei spent the second week of spring break lazing around the Hanamaki house, mostly just watching reruns of their favorite shows from childhood. And they had been given enough money to have food delivered for dinner each night. Their other meals were prepared by Issei, using groceries Mr. Hanamaki had run out to get for them before he and the others left town.

On the last day of spring break, those who had gone to Tokyo returned, and then it was time for the first day of school. 

Asami, Kazuki, and Rei went to the same elementary school their older siblings had attended, and they wouldn’t need to leave home until after eight o’clock. But that wasn’t the case for Issei and Takahiro, since they would be heading to Aoba Johsai, which was about forty-five minutes away by foot. 

Taking the train would have shaved thirty minutes off their commute, but Aoba Johsai had a strict rule about walking to and from school. It was said to promote overall health by supplying the opportunity for daily exercise—in addition to their physical education class and any club activities that involved sports.

So at half past seven, Issei and Takahiro set out together, though they were purposely leaving almost thirty minutes early. 

That was quite necessary, because Takahiro wouldn’t be able to walk very fast. He was still weak and sleepy thanks to being anemic. Even with all the medications he was taking, it would probably be another week or two before there was a noticeable improvement in his energy. 

Until then, he would still be prone to fainting spells and fatigue, so it was best if he didn’t exert himself too much.

And that’s why Issei had insisted on carrying Takahiro’s book bag as they walked. They were using the same ones from middle school, though their uniforms were different now. 

Instead of their comfy sneakers and black gakuran with squared shoulders, high collars, and gold buttons, they were wearing stiff loafers, light brown plaid slacks, lavender dress shirts, cream-colored sweater vests, and white blazers. They also had to wear ties, which were a deep red.

As they slowly made their way down the sidewalk, Issei glanced at Takahiro, who looked rather sophisticated and much more mature in their new uniform. It suited him well.

Issei adjusted the two book bags he had on one shoulder, with the draw-string bag that held his gym clothes clutched in his hand. Then he saw his reflection in the window of a small shop they were passing. 

Before going over to wake Takahiro up that morning, he had stared at himself in the bathroom mirror for a long time, thinking he looked silly in the uniform. He couldn’t seem to shake that feeling. 

“Hang on a sec,” Takahiro said, coming to a standstill on the sidewalk. 

“You good?” Issei asked, not waiting for a reply before reaching to grab Takahiro’s elbow, holding him steady. 

Takahiro nodded. Then he squatted down, folding his arms over his knees to rest his face on them.

“Maybe you should stay home today,” Issei suggested, squatting beside his best friend and setting all three bags down. “We’re only halfway to school . . . It’s not too late to turn back.”

“And miss out on meeting our new teammates?” Takahiro scoffed, turning to stare at Issei with a look of disbelief and mild indignation. 

“We don’t even know if the club meets on the first day,” Issei pointed out. “And there definitely won’t be an official practice.”

“Well, even if there was, it’s not like I can join in,” Takahiro said, sounding grumpy. Then he sighed. “I just wanna see who we’ll be playing with for the next three years.”

Issei had half a mind to drag Takahiro back home against his will. But that would cause a scene, and he didn’t want to use unnecessary force. So he tried to reason with him.

“You’ll get to see them no matter what, whether you go today or next week. The important thing is getting better. And you’re not gonna get better by pushing yourself too hard.”

“I’ll be fine,” Takahiro insisted, flashing a casual grin. The two of them were still squatting side by side. People were weaving around them, some glancing at them curiously, while others ignored them completely. “I’ve got a note to get out of gym class, and I’ve got you watching my back. What could go wrong?”

“You could fall face-first on the sidewalk and bust your mouth open again,” Issei replied, looking at the tiny cut that was barely visible on Takahiro’s lip. It had mostly healed over the past week. Then he met Takahiro’s gaze, keeping his expression and voice calm. “You could pass out in the bathroom when I’m not there. You could fall down the stairs. You could stand up too fast in class, crash into a desk, hit your head, and end up with a concussion. Or worse, hit your head on the window and get all cut up from the broken glass and bleed out in front of everyone.”

“Wow, the possibilities are endless,” Takahiro said with a chuckle, slowly standing up again and slipping his hands into the pockets of his blazer. “Seriously, Issei, I’ll be fine. Stop worrying about it.”

“Might as well tell me to stop breathing,” Issei muttered under his breath. He started walking beside Takahiro again as they headed towards their new school, and he moved their book bags to his opposite shoulder, needing to give the other one a rest. “You know, I put a lot of energy into watching out for you. It’s not really something I can control.”

“Careful now,” Takahiro teased, nudging his elbow against Issei’s arm, though he kept his hands in his pockets. “I might start thinking you’re a worrywart.”

“You’re the one who told me to express my feelings,” Issei pointed out in a flat voice. “And I’m not a worrywart. The only thing I ever worry about is you, because you’d never make it without me.”

“Yeah, I can’t argue with that.” Takahiro was suppressing a grin. “You know what I think?”

“That you’re invincible? Immune to getting hurt? Stronger than everyone else?”

“Shh, don’t make me lose my train of thought,” Takahiro playfully scolded. They had come to a crosswalk, and they joined the crowd that was moving across the street. 

Issei noticed Takahiro stumble slightly, so he held his arm for a few seconds. 

“You’re like that river we used to swim in,” Takahiro explained. “On the surface, you seem like the calmest guy around, but you’ve got those . . . uh . . . what’s that called when the water is going really fast under the surface?”

Issei put his arm out, stopping Takahiro from walking into a little kid that suddenly ran in front of them. “An undertow?”

“Exactly,” Takahiro said with a nod. He watched the little kid return to her parents as he continued crossing the street. “You look calm on the outside, and you’re fun to mess around with, but your mind is racing under the surface, waiting to drown an unsuspecting victim. And that victim is you.”

Issei snorted. “Wow, great analogy.”

Takahiro slowed his pace once they had made it to the curb on the other side of the street. “Speaking of rivers, remember that time I almost drowned?”

“Of course I do. I’ll never forget that,” Issei said, thinking back to when Takahiro had saved Asami from a watery grave.

After that happened, it took a few months for him to get over the feeling that something bad was going to happen to his best friend. He worried about everything from him getting hit by a car to choking on food, as if the incident at the river had somehow made it more likely for him to get hurt, or even killed.

“I had nightmares about you dying for weeks.”

“That’s my point,” Takahiro said, pulling his hands out of his pockets so that he could press them to his chest. “Me, the one who almost died, was over it right after it happened. But you were upset about it for months, and we didn’t go back there again, like ever, ‘cause you made excuses whenever I suggested it.”

“I guess I was kinda scared to go back there,” Issei admitted. “Still wouldn’t wanna go swimming around in a river, even now.”  

“Well, you sure are great at not facing your fears,” Takahiro said, putting his hands back in his pockets. “You’re like an ostrich burying its head in the sand.” 

Issei playfully clicked his tongue. “Make up your mind, am I an ostrich or a river?”

“Both. And you know who else is like that? Kazu. You guys always look calm on the surface, but you’re stressed out where no one else can see. And you guys avoid stuff you don’t like without making a fuss about it,” Takahiro rambled, getting a faraway look in his eyes. 

“Guess that makes us the river-dwelling ostrich brothers.” 

Takahiro kept talking without acknowledging Issei’s comment. “You know, I’ve heard your dad say stuff like, ‘at least Kazuki’s not as sensitive as his sister,’ and, ‘he’s always got a handle on his emotions.’ But he’s just as sensitive as Ah-chan, don’t you think?”

Issei hummed in agreement.

“I mean, he takes things to heart like she does. He’s always watching, observing, thinking things over. And he’s always hearing all the crap your dad says in front of him like he isn’t even there. Then he keeps it all to himself and hides his emotions, just like you try to hide it when you’re getting irritated with me,” Takahiro continued, nudging Issei with his elbow. “But that’s not a healthy habit for either of you. That’s why I think it’s important for you to work on it, so I hope you know I really meant it when I said I wanted you to let me know when I’ve upset you, even if it doesn’t seem like a big deal.”

As he processed everything he had just heard, Issei felt impressed by Takahiro’s assessment of his little brother. He would have said all the same things about him. 

Kazuki might seem like someone that had a strong hold over his emotions, having always been rather quiet and reserved. But the way he held himself in such a stiff and silent way wasn’t him being mature for his age. He was just frequently scared and overwhelmed, which caused him to shut down. Their father didn’t understand that, nor did he understand that Asami’s meltdowns were caused by stress, and that they were made worse when she was scolded harshly. 

The twins had never really experienced the side of their father that was kind and playful, like Issei had when he was a young boy. Mr. Matsukawa changed a lot after they were born. In many ways, it was like he became a completely different person, though it didn’t happen all at once. 

It was a gradual shift. 

At first, the sleep deprivation of having two newborns around made him less patient and more likely to be snappy. And then he started spending more and more time at the office, coming home later and later. Money was tighter than expected and he wanted to make up for that by working longer hours. 

But the less time he spent around his family, the less he was willing to tolerate the emotional outbursts and challenging behavior that came with having children, and the less appreciation he showed towards his wife. 

It was a vicious circle that only served to drive a wedge between him and his loved ones.

Of course, most of this was beyond Issei’s scope of knowledge. All he knew was that his father had become withdrawn and irritable, and that it wasn’t something he could fix, no matter how much he tried to be helpful around the house. Not that he could stop himself from being as helpful as possible anyway. He still yearned for his father’s praise and approval, despite not wanting to be like him anymore. 

“Since you’re not saying anything, I’ll assume you’re thinking hard about how to tell me that I’ve pissed you off recently,” Takahiro said, giving an easygoing grin. “I’m sure I must have done something to annoy you, what with how much time we spent together this past week. So lay it on me.” 

“You’re right,” Issei deadpanned. “I’m agonizing over how to tell you you’re a blanket hog.”

“Duly noted. From now on, I’ll make an effort to be more considerate when I’m asleep,” Takahiro said in a lighthearted voice. Then he grew more serious, though he was still grinning. “You know, holding back your anger isn’t something you can fix just like that. You’ve gotta, like, figure out why you started doing it and stuff.”

“I think I already figured that out,” Issei said, grabbing Takahiro’s elbow to stop him from accidentally walking in front of someone who had a drink carrier full of iced coffees. 

“Oh yeah?” Takahiro stared at Issei expectantly. “Do tell.”

“It’s kinda hard to explain,” Issei mumbled, glancing away as a wave of awkwardness overtook him. 

“Try me,” Takahiro insisted as he gently elbowed Issei again and again, though he kept his hands in his pockets. They had made it to another crosswalk, and this time they had to wait with the crowd. The walk signal wasn’t on yet. “C’mon, I wanna know what you’re thinking.”

Issei sighed. As reluctant as he was to discuss his recent major realization, he knew this was a good opportunity to show Takahiro that he trusted him with his feelings, even the ones that were hard to talk about.

“You know how my dad can be kinda . . . like, the way he, uh . . . the way he—”

“Acts like an asshole?” 

“Yeah . . . like the way he treats people when he’s really mad,” Issei clarified, not wanting to insinuate that his father was always an asshole. That felt much too disrespectful, and it wasn’t entirely accurate.

There were times when he caught glimpses of the way his father used to be, like when it was just the two of them, or when closing a big deal at work made his father behave amiably for a few days.

“I don’t think I’ve seen him get really mad before,” Takahiro said, looking up thoughtfully. “But I’ve seen him when he’s kinda mad. Like, when he’s pissed off at your sister for being too loud.”

“He says some pretty harsh stuff sometimes,” Issei explained. The walk signal went on across the street, so he and Takahiro moved through the crosswalk with the crowd, sticking close to each other. “It scares Ah-chan and Kazu, and it makes my mom cry.”

Takahiro glanced at Issei, humming softly. “And how does it make you feel?”

“I’m not sure,” Issei replied. They were almost halfway to the other side of the street, and he thought about it until they made it to the curb. “I guess it kinda scares me sometimes. But it’s not usually directed at me, y’know? I’m just a . . . a spectator, in a way.”

“So, you have to watch him be an asshole to people when he’s mad at them.” Takahiro was speaking slowly, as if he were piecing things together in his mind. “And what, you think that’s how you’ll be if you let yourself get mad?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Issei said. “It wasn’t something I was, like, actively thinking about. But on some level, I guess I was worried about getting into a fight with you and acting like a jerk.”

“Well, just so you know, you’re not like your dad at all. You guys look a lot alike, but that’s where the similarities end. When it comes to personality, you’re like your mom. Or maybe like your grandpa—the one in Tokyo, not the grumpy one,” Takahiro said, putting a hand on Issei’s shoulder as they walked. “And you know what? If you ever start treating people the way your dad treats people when he’s mad, I promise to call you out on it. You’re not gonna turn into an asshole on my watch.”

Issei felt an unexpected amount of relief after hearing that. So he smiled, subconsciously releasing the tension he had been holding in his jaw and shoulders. “Thanks.”

“In return, you’ve gotta make sure you tell me when you’re mad at me,” Takahiro insisted, giving Issei’s shoulder a firm squeeze. “Just say it plain and simple, like you used to when we were kids.”

“Alright,” Issei said. “I’ll be sure to do that.”

“Good, ‘cause being emotionally repressed is super terrible for your health, and we’ve both gotta live until we’re a hundred.”

Takahiro stopped walking for a moment to rest, and while he was leaning against a random building, he looked at Issei like he had just thought of something important.

“Hey, when’s the last time you cried?”

Before responding, Issei moved the two book bags to his opposite shoulder and switched his draw-string bag to his other hand. “I dunno.”

“Crying sometimes is supposed to be good for you,” Takahiro said. “And I don’t remember seeing you cry recently . . . Actually, wait, yeah I do. It was when you heard your parents fighting right before we went on our class trip.”

“That was over a month ago,” Issei remarked in an even voice, though his stomach automatically tensed up over the memory of that argument, which he deeply wished he wouldn’t have overheard.

Finding out his father thought he was weird for not having a girlfriend yet still hurt, and ever since then, he hadn’t been entirely comfortable interacting with him. 

“For optimal mental health, you need to have a good cry at least once a week,” Takahiro declared confidently. “My dad says it clears out all the emotional gunk that builds up. That’s why he and my mom watch a sad movie together on Sunday nights.”

“I’ll be sure to add ‘crying session’ to my weekend routine,” Issei deadpanned as he and Takahiro started walking again. 

“Cry more, stress less,” Takahiro said. “That’s my new personal motto.”

“Maybe you should become a therapist,” Issei suggested with a dry smile, though he was only half joking. 

Takahiro had a natural talent for reading people and giving advice (even when it wasn’t particularly wanted), so he might as well put it to good use. 

“Nah, I don’t wanna hear about random people’s problems,” Takahiro said, wrinkling his nose. Then he tapped the side of his fist against Issei’s chest. “But whenever you’ve got a problem, you can count on my help . . . whether you like it or not.”

“Why does that sound like a threat?” Issei asked, raising an eyebrow. 

Takahiro linked his and Issei’s arms together, letting out a devious laugh. And then they fell into a comfortable silence as they continued on their way.

At the end of a street lined with various plants that were in full bloom, Aoba Johsai High School came into view. The grounds were much bigger than their old school. Even from the street, it was obvious that there were more buildings and many, many more trees. Rich green leaves could be seen poking out from above the concrete fence that surrounded the entire school. 

They stood quietly for a few seconds, taking in the scene of so many people scurrying towards the front gate. There was a flood of students wearing the same uniform, traveling in clusters of three or four, with the occasional loner walking by themselves. 

And then they saw two people they recognized. 

Yuda was standing right next to the front gate, leaning against the brick wall that marked the opening, and so was Suzuki, who was wearing a white face mask. That probably meant she was still fighting a cold. She had been sick most of spring break, and Yuda had diligently taken care of her, getting himself sick in the process. So they hadn’t been able to see Issei and Takahiro since their last day of middle school, when they all graduated together. 

The two of them were standing close to each other, though they were obviously trying not to act like a lovey-dovey couple. 

Dating wasn’t allowed between students at Aoba Johsai, and that was a fairly common rule, even if it wasn’t always strictly upheld. It had even been one of the rules at their old middle school. But it hadn’t been enforced, aside from the occasional reminder to limit public displays of affection, such as hand holding and kissing. 

Whether or not Aoba Johsai’s teachers were sticklers for rules like that remained to be seen.

“Yuda!” Takahiro called out, waving as he and Issei walked arm-in-arm, heading towards their friends. “Suzuki-chan!”

Yuda smiled when he saw them, with his eyes bright and cheerful, acting like as much of a morning person as ever. It was clear that he had already fully recovered from being sick over spring break. He wore his uniform proudly, and it seemed like he had gotten his hair trimmed within the last few days, though it still had a slightly messy appearance. It wasn’t wavy like Issei’s, nor was it straight like Suzuki’s—it was just the very ends that tended to curl and twist in different directions, as if the tips of his light brown hair were simply unable to lay flat. 

And he wasn’t the only one who had recently gotten a haircut. 

Suzuki’s bangs were freshly trimmed. The rest of it went way past her shoulders, and it was all gathered in a low ponytail. 

Issei had gone to the barber shop with his father and little brother the previous day, and Takahiro had gone along too, since his hair couldn’t be past his ears anymore, like it had been for the past few months. Excessively shaggy hair was against the rules for boys at Aoba Johsai. 

So now Takahiro’s rose-tinted hair barely went over the tips of his ears, though it still hid most of his forehead, which happened to be covered with lots of little pimples. He often dealt with more acne than Issei did, and he was currently having a breakout. But his bangs did a good job of hiding it. 

“Hey, guys!” Yuda’s smile grew even wider than it had been when he looked at Issei and Takahiro from head to toe, his gaze briefly lingering on where their arms were still intertwined. And then he gave them two thumbs up. “The uniform looks great on both of you!”

Suzuki nodded in agreement, turning her head to cough right afterwards. Her white mask was particularly large on her, covering everything below her eyes, as if it had originally been made for someone with a bigger face. But it stayed on well enough.

“Thanks, we look good in everything,” Takahiro said, releasing Issei’s arm so that he could strike a pose. Then he gestured at Suzuki and Yuda, appraising them with a lazy grin. “And I could say the same thing about the two of you.”

Issei pulled at his red tie, making it a little bit looser. That restrictive piece of fabric was his least favorite part of the uniform. “It’s kinda hot with all these layers though, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Yuda unbuttoned his blazer, flapping it open and closed a few times to air himself out. “I think I’ll skip the sweater vest until the weather gets cold again.”

“It’s plenty cold,” Takahiro remarked, holding one hand out as he and the others walked through the front gate together, heading towards the school’s main building, which was the largest. “Feel my skin.”

“Whoa,” Yuda said, touching Takahiro’s hand. Then he sandwiched it between both of his own and started rubbing it to warm it up. “It’s like an ice cube.”

“His feet are just as bad,” Issei stated, holding Takahiro’s arm again, in case he was feeling lightheaded. 

“That’s from the anemia, right?” Yuda asked, letting Takahiro’s hand go and leading his friends into the three-story building in front of them. Once they were all inside, he headed towards the small lockers that would hold their outdoor shoes. 

“Yep. It’s ‘cause I’m severely anemic,” Takahiro confirmed, almost sounding like he was telling a joke, though Issei could hear the hidden frustration in his voice. “It’s so bad that I’m not allowed to play volleyball for two months.”

“Really?!” Yuda switched his loafers for the slippers that were in his bag, putting his outdoor shoes in one of the little lockers. “Oh, is that what you meant by that ‘I’ll live, but my spirit is dead’ text you sent a few days ago?” 

“Yeah,” Takahiro said, letting out a forlorn sigh. Then he moved aside so that a group of girls could pass by. Some of them seemed to be checking him out, but he paid no attention to them. “And by the way, thanks for never responding.”

After closing his little locker, Yuda frowned apologetically and turned to hold Suzuki’s elbow as she changed her shoes. “Sorry, I was really sick most of last week, like puking everywhere and sleeping all day. So I just completely forgot to reply.”

“In that case, you’re forgiven,” Takahiro decided, leaning against the lockers and holding a foot towards Issei, who squatted down and switched his shoe for him, repeating the process on the other side.

And when Suzuki leaned on the lockers beside him, he glanced at her. “How are you feeling?”

“Not too bad,” Suzuki replied. She suddenly turned away to cough into her elbow. Then she cleared her throat and adjusted her mask. “I’m much better than I was.”

“Glad to hear you’re on the mend,” Takahiro said, taking his book bag from Issei after his shoes had been changed for him. “Hopefully we’ll both be back to normal in a week or two.”

“It’s a good thing you’ve got him watching out for you in the meantime,” Yuda said, having observed the way Issei wordlessly changed Takahiro’s shoes.

“He’s definitely taking full advantage of my willingness to help,” Issei joked, quickly changing into his indoor slippers and putting his loafers into a shoe locker.

“When you put it like that, you make it seem like I’ve been forcing you to fuss over me like a mother hen this past week,” Takahiro said, still leaning against the lockers, with his book bag held in front of him. He was smirking in a self-satisfied way. “But it’s not like I can stop you, y’know. So I might as well enjoy the attention.”

Issei snorted, not giving a reply. 

He had hardly left Takahiro’s side since they got home from the hospital, and if truth be told, he might have been overdoing it with how much assistance he was offering. It was just that the thought of Takahiro passing out somewhere by himself really scared him, and it’s not like he could have left Takahiro home alone while his family was out of town.  

Besides, he didn’t mind taking care of him. 

Once the four of them finished changing their shoes, they made their way to the biggest of the four gyms that were on the school grounds, where an assembly was being held. Everyone else was going there as well, and the hallways were crowded. It took a few minutes to get there.

Inside the biggest gym, there were many lines of students, sorted by grade. Issei and his friends found their places, waiting for the assembly to begin. Hushed voices were echoing across the gym, and more students continued to arrive, until it seemed there was no one else coming.

At that point, a speech was given by the principal, consisting of the same things Issei had heard at the beginning of each April since he first started school—albeit with more complicated vocabulary than when he was younger. 

The students of Aoba Johsai were expected to respect each other, strive for excellence, be responsible, make their community proud, and so on and so forth. 

While focusing only half of his attention on the speech, Issei subtly looked around at the other first-years, all of whom were on the far right side of the gym, in lines arranged by height. He and Takahiro were among the tallest of their grade, so they were in the back, whereas Yuda was about ten or twelve people ahead of them. And then Suzuki was near the front, being one of the shortest people at the entire school.

He didn’t recognize any of the other students, at least, not by the backs of their heads. He knew there must be some people from his middle school around somewhere, but he also knew the rest of his old volleyball team had gone to Sakamoto’s school. And since he hadn’t regularly associated with anyone outside of club activities, aside from Suzuki, he had no reason to believe that he himself would be recognized by anyone. 

However, there was a boy with fluffy, stylishly arranged brown hair in the row next to Issei, and he kept glancing over at him like he wanted to get a better look, the way people do when they spot someone in public that they might have seen before. His curious, somewhat calculating gaze also fell on Takahiro now and then. And even though he was standing still, he seemed quite confident and charismatic, like someone who was very sure of himself.

Issei tried to ignore it at first, but when the staring became more obvious, he turned his head and met the boy’s gaze. They stared at each other for a few seconds, Issei doing so calmly, and the boy acting slightly surprised over being silently addressed, though no less curious. 

And then the boy held up a peace sign, flashing a warm, friendly smile at the same time.

In response, Issei gave a polite grin and nodded in acknowledgement. 

But his attention was drawn away when he heard someone sigh from two people ahead of him. He would know that sigh anywhere. So he leaned his body to one side ever so slightly, trying to be subtle about getting a look at his best friend, who seemed to be slouching and shifting his weight from one foot to the other. 

Takahiro was probably getting lightheaded from standing for so long, and Issei didn’t want him to pass out, though he couldn’t bring himself to say anything or go to him. The room was completely silent aside from the principal’s voice. Any whispering or movement would be extremely noticeable, and he didn’t want to be scolded on the first day. 

All he could do was watch Takahiro from where he stood, quietly preparing himself to rush over and catch him if, and only if, the need should arise. 

Thankfully, the need did not arise, and the assembly ended without incident. 

Then he and his three friends found each other and headed back to the main school building, where there was an announcement board that listed the name of every student, sorting them by class. 

“Hey, look!” Yuda exclaimed, pointing at the list of names underneath class 1-3. “We’re all in the same homeroom this year!”

“Sweet,” Takahiro said, grinning as he put his hands in his pockets. “We really lucked out.”

Suzuki nodded, coughing a few times before speaking. “I’m so happy.”

Issei was about to chime in, but he noticed the brown-haired boy from the gym—the one with the curious eyes and charismatic demeanor. 

The brown-haired boy was standing next to another boy, who had dark spiky hair and a gruff countenance. The charismatic one was taller than the gruff one. And based on the pout that had settled on the brown-haired boy’s mouth, paired with the way he was grumpily crossing his arms, it seemed like he was upset about something. But he wasn’t close enough for Issei to hear what he was saying. 

When the brown-haired boy was done complaining, the gruff boy rolled his eyes, setting off towards the hallway that led to the classrooms on the first floor. 

The brown-haired boy tossed his hair before hurrying to catch up, and this time, he spoke loud enough to be overheard by most of the people in the area. “Wait for me, Iwa-chan!”

“Come on,” Takahiro said, getting Issei’s attention by grabbing his arm. Then he started walking in the same direction the other two boys had just gone, following behind Yuda and Suzuki, who were already a few paces ahead. 

The four of them made it to class 1-3, and Yuda got there first, so he opened the door and let Suzuki go ahead of him. She went inside and waited, letting Takahiro and Issei pass her. Yuda walked in last.

There were already about twenty other students in the room, and Issei didn’t recognize any of them by name, though there were a few people he thought he might have seen around his middle school at some point. And he noticed that the brown-haired boy was among his classmates, though the gruff boy was nowhere to be seen, likely having been assigned to a different homeroom. 

Issei wondered if that had been the cause of the brown-haired boy’s earlier pouting. 

He was glad that he and his friends were fortunate enough to be in the same homeroom. And it seemed they still had some luck to spare, because the chalkboard had a note saying that students could pick their own seats, and there were four empty desks in the back corner of the room.

Takahiro headed right for them, moving quicker than Issei felt was safe, considering the current state of his health. So he followed close to make sure his best friend didn’t fall. Yuda and Suzuki fell in line behind him, and they all walked between the two rows of desks that were farthest away from the door. 

When they were nearly halfway down the aisle, Issei overheard a girl whisper to her friend, saying something that sounded like, “Oh my god, that guy with the thick eyebrows looks so ugly in the school uniform.”

Issei tried to act casual as he looked around to figure out who had said that, discovering it was the girl sitting in the middle of the row he and his friends were walking past. 

The girl and her friend were giggling, sneaking glances at Issei as he got closer to their desks.

Her insult hadn’t been that loud, and Issei wasn’t totally sure if he heard her correctly, but it still pricked a hole in his self-confidence. He had already been feeling insecure about how the uniform looked on him, so hearing someone else make that kind of comment only served to confirm his suspicions.  

As it turned out, Takahiro had also heard the insult that was aimed at his best friend, and he abruptly stopped right next to the girl who said it, nearly causing Issei to bump into him. Then he leaned down and put an elbow on her desk, staring at her intensely. 

After a few seconds, he flashed a crooked grin and hummed like he was intrigued, and then he moved closer to her face, meeting her gaze all the while. With how he was acting, it would be easy to assume that he found her so attractive that he just had to stop and talk to her. 

The girl stared back at Takahiro, and then she started blushing and fiddling with her hair, giving him a shy smile. “You’re—you’re a bit too close, don’t you think?”

Without responding, Takahiro got even closer to the girl’s face, until their noses were almost touching. There was a devilish twinkle in his eyes, and he was staring at her in a way that could be described as flirtatious.

Then again, calling it obnoxious and impolite would also be an accurate description.

Everyone in the room was looking at them at that point, including Issei, who had no idea what Takahiro was about to do. But he had a bad feeling about it. He wanted to pull him away from that girl, because despite how the situation might look to most people, he knew his best friend wasn’t some flirty playboy. 

More importantly, he knew the lengths Takahiro was willing to go when it came to defending him from bullies. 

The room had gone completely silent, and all eyes were on Takahiro, who was still right in that girl’s face. And when he finally spoke, it was in a sultry whisper.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

The girl turned an even deeper shade of red as she nodded, and she probably made the mistake of assuming Takahiro was about to confess to falling in love at first sight. In the desk beside her, the other girl appeared to be thinking the same thing, because she covered her mouth to suppress a squeal. 

But they were both wrong.

Takahiro slowly moved his mouth next to the girl’s ear, speaking in a sweet, silky voice, with that crooked grin still playing on his lips.

“I wouldn’t judge how other people look in the school uniform, ‘cause you’ve got no room to talk. I’ve never seen anyone look as ugly as you do right now.”

As if they had been shocked into silence, the girl and her friend stared at Takahiro in disbelief. Their mouths were even hanging open. 

And then Takahiro finally moved out of the girl’s personal space, though he gave her a cold look before sauntering towards the desk in the back corner. 

The brown-haired boy from earlier was sitting in the seat right behind the girl Takahiro had just insulted, and like that girl, his mouth was hanging open. But unlike her, he was also smirking. 

Issei was just as shocked as those girls had been, though his expression remained perfectly neutral. It took a lot of effort to keep his eyebrows from raising up, and he suppressed the nervous smile that was tugging at the corners of his mouth, not wanting to get yelled at if those two girls got angry and lashed out. 

So he just calmly followed Takahiro and sat at the desk next to him, which left the two seats behind them for their friends. 

Yuda took the seat that was directly behind Issei, and Suzuki sat in the one behind Takahiro, coughing into her elbow once she was settled in.

While avoiding the stares of some classmates who didn’t seem to approve of what Takahiro had just done, Issei glanced back at Yuda and Suzuki to see what their reaction was, and he couldn’t quite read either of their expressions. 

Yuda seemed like he was still trying to process everything. But it also seemed like he wasn’t that surprised. He had gotten to know Takahiro relatively well after three years of friendship, and he had witnessed countless petty displays of revenge on Issei’s behalf. 

As for Suzuki, she was actually smiling behind her mask, where no one else could see. It was no secret to her that Takahiro didn’t take well to people insulting his best friend. And for reasons she would never say out loud, she was pleased that Takahiro had defended Issei’s honor, even if he went about it in such an abrasive way. 

After watching Takahiro and Issei take their seats, the brown-haired boy pulled out his phone, typing a long, frenzied message below his desk, doing so without looking at what he was doing. Then he turned around, addressing the girl who was sitting behind him. 

“Excuse me,” he said, speaking with a charming smile that seemed a little too forced. “Would you mind switching seats with me?”

The girl nodded, blushing slightly as she got up, trading spots with him.

Then he spoke to the person that was in front of Issei’s desk. “Hi, would you mind switching seats with me?”

That girl also agreed, and just like that, the brown-haired boy had gotten himself as close to Issei and Takahiro as possible. He appeared to be rather pleased about it.

Meanwhile, Takahiro put his hands behind his head as he relaxed in his chair, as if he hadn’t just ruthlessly wounded the pride of the girl who had dared insult his best friend.

And then he suddenly tilted his head way back, looking at Suzuki from an almost upside down perspective. “I love a good window seat, don’t you?”

Suzuki had a sudden coughing fit.

Once it passed, she took a bottle of water out of her bag and pulled her mask down, getting a drink. Then she put her mask back on and cleared her throat.

“I might have a hard time seeing the board from here.”

That was a legitimate concern. She was the shortest person in class, and she was sitting way back in the furthest corner, behind a bunch of boys who were much taller than her.

“Don’t worry,” Yuda said, briefly reaching over to squeeze Suzuki’s hand. “We can all share our notes.”

Issei was still feeling embarrassed about how many people were sneaking judgemental glances at him and his best friend, so he didn’t contribute to the conversation. Instead he stared at the back of the brown-haired boy’s head, wondering why he had moved seats twice just to sit in front of him.

And then the brown-haired boy turned in his seat so that he could stare at Takahiro without straining himself. He studied him silently, his eyes filled with that curious, calculating look he had been wearing earlier, when they were at the assembly. 

It didn’t take long for Takahiro to notice that he was being watched, so he sat up nice and tall, meeting the brown-haired boy’s gaze. They were then locked in some kind of strange staring contest. Each was sizing up the other, unwilling to look away. And they were both wearing serious expressions. 

That continued until they smiled at each other, doing so at the exact same moment. 

“Oikawa Tooru,” said the brown-haired boy. “Nice to meet you.”

“Likewise,” Takahiro replied, pointing his thumb at himself, and then at each of his friends. “I’m Hanamaki Takahiro, and this is Matsukawa Issei, Yuda Kaneo, and Suzuki Ume.”

Oikawa nodded at everyone in greeting. His attention quickly went back to Takahiro, though his gaze had briefly lingered on Issei first. “You guys play volleyball, don’t you?”

“We do,” Takahiro confirmed. 

“How’d you know we play volleyball?” Issei asked as he stared at Oikawa, who turned to look at him. 

“I saw you during the Middle School Sports Tournament last year,” Oikawa explained in a cheerful voice. “We didn’t play each other, but I caught the end of one of your games. You guys aren’t half bad.”

“What position do you play?” Yuda asked, giving a friendly smile. It seemed like he was excited about meeting one of his new teammates. 

“Setter,” Oikawa replied as he adjusted his white blazer, unbuttoning the front of it. “And not to brag or anything, but I did get the Best Setter Award.”

“Wow, that’s awesome!” Yuda leaned forward in his seat, bringing him closer to both Issei and Oikawa. “You must be really good!”

The teacher walked into the room just then, and when class finally started, Issei and his three friends passed notes back and forth. 

Oikawa got in on it too, and by the time it was their lunch break, he had made a place for himself within their group. The five of them turned their desks, pressing them all together before getting their food out.

“I’ve got a good feeling about this year,” Takahiro said as he picked the things he liked out of Issei’s lunch.

His appetite was the one thing that had already noticeably improved since starting medications to help heal his ulcers and correct his anemia. Now that he had much less stomach pain to endure, he was back to eating full meals and plenty of snacks.

Issei watched Takahiro steal stuff from his lunch, waiting for him to finish so that he could start eating. He had been expecting this to happen, so he purposely packed extra food that morning, making sure to include some of Takahiro’s favorite things.

“It’ll be fun to play on a new team,” Yuda said as he worked on opening a juice box. 

“I agree,” Oikawa said, though his focus was on his phone. After reading whatever message he had just received, he irritably clicked his tongue. “Well, Iwa-chan won’t come join us. He’s too busy ‘getting to know his classmates,’ as if they’re so much more interesting than us.”

“We’ll just have to meet him at practice,” Issei remarked, trying (and mostly failing) to ignore the fiery glare of the girl who’s pride was apparently still wounded.

He felt like she was going to burn holes right through him and his best friend if she kept shooting such angry looks at them. 

Takahiro seemed to notice that Issei was uncomfortable, and it didn’t take him long to figure out the cause. So he caught the girl’s eye the next time she looked his way.

The first thing he did after that was gag like she disgusted him, and then he smirked at her, using the full force of his hidden ability to come across as the snarkiest person on the planet. 

Oikawa joined in, staring at the girl from beside Takahiro, their smirks equally smug and condescending. 

That was enough to deter her, and she avoided looking at them for the rest of lunch. 

As much as Issei hated making an enemy on the first day, he found it quite interesting that Takahiro and Oikawa had clicked so quickly, apparently having bonded over that awkward incident from earlier and their equally matched pettiness. 

It never would have occurred to Issei that there was someone out there who would be drawn to Takahiro’s most obnoxious personality traits. 

He himself fully accepted those parts of Takahiro, and he knew there were plenty of good traits to balance it all out. But he also knew that Takahiro’s sassy attitude tended to be somewhat off-putting when people were first getting to know him. 

And there was also the small matter of Takahiro’s long-standing reluctance to make new friends, though perhaps that was becoming a thing of the past. 

While thinking about that, Issei was reminded of when they first met Yuda, who had been accepted by Takahiro right away. It had been a nice change of pace to have someone else to hang out with at school, and given Yuda’s genuine friendliness, he was the type of person to overlook Takahiro’s flaws in favor of valuing his strengths. He also wore his heart on his sleeve, so the authenticity of his words and actions never had to be second-guessed. 

But there wasn’t a lot in common between Yuda and Oikawa—that is, not as far as Issei could tell. That’s not to say Oikawa wasn’t friendly, because he was, though it felt rather forced at times.

And it wasn’t like Oikawa didn’t make a good first impression. 

Still, Issei wasn’t sure why Takahiro had taken to Oikawa so well, and he didn’t know exactly what it was that Takahiro looked for when deciding whether or not someone was worth befriending.

For all he knew, Takahiro just went off the general vibe he got when he first laid eyes on someone. Or maybe he had a sixth sense for human compatibility.

At the end of the school day, Oikawa ran off to find his friend, Yuda went to walk Suzuki home before going to meet the rest of his teammates, and Issei made his way to the gym with Takahiro, who seemed particularly worn out. 

They arrived after lots of other people were already there. 

The gym was much larger than the one at their middle school, and there were also many more members on this team than there had been on their old one. 

There were around thirty students standing around in the gym, and most of them were obviously upperclassmen based on the way they already had Aoba Johsai Volleyball Club tracksuits, which were white with turquoise lettering and details. 

All the first-years, aside from Takahiro, were in the gym clothes they wore during P.E. class.

It seemed like an impromptu practice, or perhaps a very casual team meeting, was just about to start. The two coaches—one of whom was older with dark hair, while the other was a younger man with blonde hair—were talking to each other near the net. And a tall, muscular boy who was likely the captain was there with them.

Right after Issei and Takahiro made it to the entrance of the gym, Yuda came running up to them, panting and resting his hands on his knees once he came to a stop.

“Hey, I’m back!”

“That was fast,” Issei said, raising his eyebrows. “You already walked Suzuki-chan home?”

“Yep,” Yuda replied, still trying to catch his breath. “She doesn’t live too far away.”

“Well, you almost beat us here,” Issei said with a grin.

His arm was linked with Takahiro’s, since there had been a mild dizzy spell on the way over. That made them stop to rest for about fifteen minutes, and during that time, he forced Takahiro to drink a bunch of water. He had also used that time to put his gym clothes on in the bathroom. 

“It was my fault we were so slow,” Takahiro said as he playfully sagged his shoulders. “I’m such a heavy burden.”

“One I always end up carrying,” Issei remarked in a dry voice. 

Takahiro squeezed Issei’s arm, flashing a bright smile at him. “And I really appreciate that.”

From across the room, Oikawa came walking over, and with him were three other boys. One of them was the gruff, spiky-haired boy named Iwaizumi, who they had already heard a lot about.

And the other two boys were hesitantly following them, like they weren’t totally sure if they were supposed to be tagging along or not.

They were all in their gym clothes.

“Well, I’ve done some investigating,” Oikawa said as he gestured at those who were with him. “These are the only other first-years. Let’s go around and introduce ourselves, shall we?”

He cleared his throat and put one hand on his hip, placing the other on his chest.

“As you all know, I’m Oikawa Tooru, and I’m a setter. The best setter, if you will.”

Iwaizumi snorted and shook his head. “Wow, you’re really letting that award go to your head.”

“And this is Iwaizumi Hajime, my very best friend! He’s a wing spiker,” Oikawa continued as he patted Iwaizumi on the shoulder. “You’ll hear me refer to him as Iwa-chan, but just so you know, no one else is allowed to call him that. It’s our special thing. Oh, and once I’ve had some time to think about it, I’ll come up with great nicknames for the rest of you.”

After letting Oikawa finish that gaudy introduction, Iwaizumi rolled his eyes.

Then he nodded at the other two boys, who were standing beside him. “This is Sawauchi Motomu, and that’s Shido Heisuke. We just met them a few minutes ago.”

“This is Matsukawa Issei,” Takahiro said as he finally let go of Issei’s arm, ruffling his hair instead. Then he pointed at Yuda, who bowed slightly when acknowledged. “That’s Yuda Kaneo, and I’m Hanamaki Takahiro.”

“Great, now we all know each other.” Oikawa cheerfully clasped his hands together. “Oh, don’t forget to state your position!”

Takahiro rested his arm on Issei’s shoulder for support, like he was getting lightheaded from standing in one place for so long. “I’m a wing spiker, and so is Yuda.”

Yuda nodded, beaming at his new teammates.

“Me too,” said Shido, who had brown hair that was parted in the middle of his forehead. He also had thick, short eyebrows and a naturally wry smile. And he was the only person among them without any pimples. All the other boys had at least a few, but his skin was surprisingly clear.  

“I’m a middle blocker,” Matsukawa said, looking at everyone else in the group. He realized he was the tallest of the first-years. 

Takahiro was second tallest, beating Oikawa by just a centimeter or two. Sawauchi, Shido, and Yuda were tied for shortest, and Iwaizumi was just a little bit taller than them, earning himself fourth place when it came to height. 

Sawauchi seemed shorter than he actually was because of his slouchy posture.

“I usually play middle blocker,” he mumbled shyly. His greasy black hair was slicked up and away from his forehead, making it look awkward and bird-like. And he had even more acne than anyone else did, mostly around his nose and jaw. “I’m, uh, well . . . I’m not very good at volleyball.”

“Neither am I,” Shido admitted with a shrug. “I only started playing last year.”

“Well, don’t worry about that! Anyone can get better if they work hard enough,” Oikawa said, still coming across as cheerful, though it didn’t seem entirely sincere.

It was almost like he was putting on an act.

Then he glanced at Issei, Takahiro, and Yuda with that curious, calculating expression of his. “Say, how long have you guys been playing?”

“We’ve all been playing since our first year of middle school,” Issei replied.  

“How exciting!” Oikawa looked from person to person with clever eyes that seemed to pierce right through them, as if he were assessing them in great detail. But he kept a pleasant smile on his face the whole time. “After practice today, why don’t we all get ramen together? My treat!”

Issei was about to politely decline, since Takahiro’s health wouldn’t allow him to go walking around all over the place at the end of a long day. 

However, Takahiro answered before Issei could say anything. “Sure, that sounds great.”

The other boys accepted the offer as well, so they all agreed to leave practice together right after they were done for the day. 

Then the coach called everyone over so that the new members of the team could introduce themselves. 

Takahiro purposely went first, handing the coach his medical note afterwards, which allowed him to go over and sit on the bench while everyone else took their turn. And an impromptu practice started once they had all announced their name and position. 

For a solid hour, they ran through receiving drills, and then a short break was given. 

At that point, Issei sat next to Takahiro, who handed him a bright orange water bottle. When he was done drinking from it, he spoke softly enough that no one else would be able to hear him.

“Why’d you agree to go out with everyone tonight?”

“As my grandma always used to say, you should never pass up free food,” Takahiro said as he offered Issei a clean towel. “Here, take this. You’re all sweaty.”

“Thanks.” Issei used the towel to wipe his face and neck, and then he looked around the crowded gym, watching his teammates socialize in small groups. “Man, I didn’t think there would be so many people on the team.”

“Me neither,” Takahiro muttered, glaring at their upperclassmen like he wanted them to disappear. “Doubt we’re gonna get to play in a real game this year.”

“Yeah, probably not,” Issei agreed, followed by a disappointed sigh.

Then he decided to look on the bright side.

“You know, I’ve been introducing myself to them, and it seems like most of them are third-years. I’ve only met four second-years—and they’re not that much better at receiving than us. So if we work hard, I bet we’ll be able to play as starters by next year.”

“I’ve got a feeling I’ll be competing with Iwaizumi-kun for a spot,” Takahiro said, staring at where Oikawa had just started setting the ball for some of the upperclassmen.

Iwaizumi was with him, and every now and then, he would go in and slam the ball with a powerful spike.

“Do you think I could beat him at arm wrestling?”

“Not while you’re anemic,” Issei replied matter-of-factly. 

“Ah, true. Gotta recover my strength,” Takahiro said, holding both arms up and flexing his nearly-nonexistent-biceps.

He was much weaker than he had been back when he became the ace for their middle school team. That was almost exactly a year ago.

“Y’know, it’s kinda funny that I was doing just fine until right before spring break. But then everything suddenly got way worse.”

“I wouldn’t say you were doing fine,” Issei countered. “If you ask me, you were ignoring the warning signs your body was giving you.”

“You ignore your anger, I ignore my body’s cries for help,” Takahiro mused, putting his hands behind his head. “Together, we make the perfect pair.”

Issei chuckled. “More like perfect disaster.”

“The perfect storm,” Takahiro said with a sage nod. “And that’s why we’re so fun.”

Coach Irihata, who was the older one with dark hair, called everyone back for more drills.

And so Issei went to rejoin his other teammates. 

While he was waiting in line for his turn to serve, he caught Takahiro staring at him. They nodded at the same time, and then they had a silent competition to see who could keep a straight face for longer. That was a game they frequently played whenever they were forced to be across the room from each other. 

It was fairly obvious that Takahiro was enjoying himself, despite the fact that he couldn’t join in on practice. Watching others push themselves to the point of exhaustion without having to shed a single drop of sweat must have been nice. 

Issei just hoped that Takahiro paid enough attention to learn from their new teammates, and in turn, teach both of them some new tricks.  

The rest of practice passed quickly, and before Issei knew it, he was getting changed in the club room with his teammates. This club room was bigger, nicer, newer, and cleaner than the one from his middle school. He even got his own locker. 

And according to Coach Mizoguchi—the young blonde with a bit of a temper—all the new members of the team would have their very own Aoba Johsai Volleyball Club tracksuit by the end of the week. They would also be getting sports bags that were the same color as their tracksuits.

After he had changed back into his uniform, Issei left school with Takahiro and the other first-years. It was already dark out, and the seven of them were talking among themselves, taking up most of the street. The part of town they were in wasn’t too busy at that hour, so they weren’t being an inconvenience to anyone.

They came upon the hole-in-the-wall ramen shop that Oikawa had been leading them to just fifteen minutes later. 

The small restaurant had a rich yellow awning, with the words Chindochu Chinese Ramen & Gyoza written on it. There were red curtains that led into the building, with little red lanterns above it, and they all went inside, seating themselves at the bar. 

The place was clean and cozy, but without many other customers. Just two of the five tables were occupied, and they were the only ones at the bar, which had twelve seats total.

“You won’t find better food anywhere in town,” Oikawa declared, sounding sure of himself. “And best of all, the guy that owns this place knows my mom. So he always gives me a discount.”

As if summoned, a middle-aged man with a receding hairline came into view, wiping his hands on his white apron as he nodded at the group of boys. His name tag simply read: Chef.

“What a nice surprise, Tooru-kun.” 

“Hey, uncle,” Oikawa said, coming across completely at ease, like this place was somewhere he visited often. “I brought you some new customers!”

“Good, very good. You and your friends are always welcome,” said Chef, smiling in a way that was tired and sincere. “What can I get for you boys?”

Oikawa looked at the people he was with and winked. “Let me handle this, guys. I know the best stuff on the menu.”

Then he spoke to Chef again. “We’ll all take a bowl of shio ramen, a side of char sui, and a small plate of potstickers. Oh, and an order of agedashi tofu for Iwa-chan.” 

Hearing that made Iwaizumi smile slightly, and the tips of his ears took on a subtle shade of red. But he didn’t express his excitement or gratitude out loud.

“It’ll be about twenty minutes,” Chef said, turning around to gather ingredients. The stove was behind the counter, which meant they were able to watch him cook. And he did so skillfully. 

“It was really nice of you to take us here,” Yuda remarked from where he was sitting at the end of the bar.

Beside him was Takahiro, and then there was Issei, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Sawauchi, and Shido on the far side closest to the bathroom. 

“Think nothing of it! I’m just being a good teammate,” Oikawa said with a pleasant lilt in his voice.

Then his eyes shifted to Iwaizumi, who stared back at him irritably, as if he was accusing him of something.

“Oh, don’t give me that look, Iwa-chan. Like I told you earlier, I don’t have any ulterior motives. I’m perfectly capable of doing nice things for people without expecting anything in return.”

“Yeah, sure, you’re a real saint,” Iwaizumi muttered, like he didn’t believe that at all. 

“Hold on a second.” Takahiro leaned forward so he could see past Issei, narrowing his eyes at Oikawa once they were looking at each other. “Are we gonna be in your debt now?”

“No, no, no. Of course not,” Oikawa insisted, waving a hand in front of himself. “This is just a friendly little outing, because we’re all going to be such good friends from now on!”

“Not gonna lie,” Issei remarked calmly. “Now that you said that, it kinda feels like you’re trying to buy our friendship with food.”

“Which is fine,” Takahiro quickly added. “Feeding me is the easiest way to earn my loyalty.”

“That’s true,” Issei agreed, grinning as he glanced at his best friend. “Feed him once a day and he’ll have your back forever.”

“Hah, yeah, Oikawa’s the same way with praise,” Iwaizumi said. “Just tell him he did a good job and pat him on the back a few times, and you’ll win his undying loyalty. As long as you didn’t already earn a grudge.”

“Is that so? Does his loyalty come with more food?” Takahiro asked, getting out of his seat so that he could stand behind Oikawa and rub his shoulders. “Y’know, you did a very good job at practice today. I was super impressed.”

“Me too. You really blew me away with your setting,” Issei said as he started massaging Oikawa’s scalp with his fingertips. “I’d be even more impressed if you got me extra potstickers.”

For some reason, Iwaizumi was frowning as he watched Oikawa get unexpectedly pampered.

But then again, he seemed to be frowning most of the time, either by habit or by nature.

“Don’t compliment me unless you mean it,” Oikawa said, pouting as he moved his head away from Issei and shook off Takahiro’s massage.

Then he crossed his arms and glared at Iwaizumi, who stared back at him with a flat expression.

“Are you happy now, Iwa-chan? You’ve got them harassing me.”

“Yes, I’m extremely happy right now,” Iwaizumi said, flicking Oikawa’s forehead as his own forehead crinkled up grumpily. “Can’t you tell from the sparkles in my eyes.” 

Oikawa smacked at Iwaizumi’s hand, and then the two of them bickered back and forth, in a way that seemed much more affectionate than anything else. 

At that point, Takahiro returned to his seat with an amused chuckle. But he seemed tired, and when he leaned forward to rest his elbows on the bar, Issei started scratching his back. That made him smile and melt all the way down, resting his forehead on his arms.

Meanwhile, everyone else watched Iwaizumi as he got Oikawa in a headlock, giving him a noogie.

Once he had finally freed himself, Oikawa turned his attention back to his new teammates. And then he let out a reluctant sigh, like he was about to admit some big, important secret.

“Well . . . I guess I should tell you guys the real reason I brought you here. I’ll admit, it wasn’t just a friendly gesture.”

Takahiro sat up and gasped. “So he does have ulterior motives.”

“Shocking,” Issei deadpanned.  

“Oh, my mother was right.” Takahiro dramatically hid his chest behind his arms. “She told me I should never let a strange man pay for my dinner.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll fight him off for you,” Issei joked, though both his expression and voice were perfectly flat. He started punching Oikawa’s arm very softly, doing so over and over again. “Begone, lecher.”

Yuda, Shido, and Sawauchi were snickering, and even Iwaizumi let out a brief chuckle.

“Wow, you guys are hilarious,” Oikawa said with a straight face, glancing down at where Issei was still fake-punching him. “I can’t stop laughing.”

“Thanks, we’ll be here all night,” Takahiro said, grabbing Issei’s wrist to stop his pretend assault against Oikawa’s arm.

And then he wagged his finger at Oikawa, as if to scold him. “But that’s not an invitation! One bowl of ramen and a few sides isn’t enough to win me over, big guy. I don’t come cheap.”

“He’ll cost you at least four extra large bowls of char sui, and since I oversee his care, I’ll need two dozen potstickers for myself.” Even though Issei looked and sounded serious, he was barely holding back laughter. “That’ll get you one date with him. However, I can’t promise you a happy ending.”

“It’s not off the table,” Takahiro said, looking like he was also struggling to hold back laughter. He had to cover his mouth to hide his impish smirk. “For that many bowls of char sui, he could probably convince me to give him a handie.”

“As if I’d ever want anything like that from either of you,” Oikawa scoffed with righteous indignation. “I’ll have you know, I got a confession from a really cute girl today.”

After hearing that, it seemed like Iwaizumi’s eye twitched, and his mouth flattened into a hard line. But he didn’t say anything.

“And yet you’re out here trying to romance a bunch of guys over dinner?” Takahiro asked in mock disbelief. 

“For shame,” Issei said, shaking his head. “What would your girlfriend say about this?”

“Oh, please, I didn’t accept her confession. I heard her out, and then I turned her down like a gentleman,” Oikawa stated, tossing his hair. “You’ve gotta get at least two weeks into the new school year before accepting a confession. That way, you have a wider range to choose from.”

“You’re such a piece of garbage,” Iwaizumi grumbled, staring at Oikawa like he found him repulsive. 

“Don’t be jealous, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said dismissively. “If you’d only let me, I could get you a girlfriend just like that. But you always refuse my help.”

In response, Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “That’s ‘cause I’ve got better things to do than date some random girl.”

“Well, I certainly can’t fault you for your dedication to volleyball,” Oikawa said, patting the top of Iwaizumi’s head as if to placate him, though his hand was immediately smacked away. Then he snapped his fingers. “Oh, that brings me back to what I was going to say earlier! There’s a reason I brought you all here.”

“Do tell,” Takahiro said, putting his elbow on the bar and resting his chin on his fist. 

“Yeah, why’d you want us to come here with you?” Yuda asked, leaning forward so that he could see past Takahiro and Issei, which allowed him to stare at Oikawa more easily.

Sawauchi and Shido, neither of whom had added much to the conversation since getting to the restaurant, were also listening for the answer.

“It’s simple, really,” Oikawa said. “I just wanted to get to know you guys better. That way, we can all be really close and familiar with each other.”

“Oh, wow, are you actually trying to get with us?” Takahiro asked in a calm voice, though it was clear to Issei that he was still joking around. “I think I speak for all of us when I say I’m flattered, but personally, I’m not looking for a relationship right now. And Issei’s too busy keeping me out of trouble to even think about having time for anyone else.”

“You know, I’m starting to think you enjoy getting on my nerves,” Oikawa said, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out an impatient sigh. “I invited you all here because I’d like to get to know you as teammates. We’ll be going to nationals together someday, and for that to actually happen, we need to work well as a team. The best way to do that is to be familiar with each other.”

That was enough to get everyone’s full attention. All eyes were on Oikawa, and no one was goofing off anymore. 

“You . . . you really think we’ll make it to nationals?” Sawauchi asked, like he could hardly fathom that possibility. He seemed to have broken out in a nervous sweat just from the thought of it.

“Of course!” Oikawa rubbed his hands together. “If we work really hard, we’ll make it there for sure. But I need to know if you guys are willing to put in the effort.”

“There’s no question there,” Issei said. “We’re willing to do whatever it takes.”

Takahiro nodded, and so did the other first-years—aside from Iwaizumi, who was looking rather contemplative. 

“Good,” Oikawa said, his body visibly relaxing as he flashed a bright smile, which was the most genuine one he had worn that day. He seemed to have many different smiles, some much more fake than others. “That’s what I was hoping to hear.”

Their food was set in front of them at that point, so the conversation died down, and they all dug in. 

The meal was delicious, just like Oikawa said it would be. The ramen was flavorful, the char sui was juicy, and the potstickers were perfectly fried. Iwaizumi even let everyone try a small bite of his agedashi tofu. 

When they were done eating, Oikawa paid the bill, though Iwaizumi insisted on covering half of it himself.

Then they all headed outside. And before parting ways, they exchanged phone numbers and e-mail addresses, because Oikawa insisted that he needed two ways to get in contact with everyone.

After that, Takahiro and Issei slowly walked towards their neighborhood. The long day had worn both of them out.

There was also Takahiro’s dizzy spells to be wary of, and concern over that made Issei stick to his side, still playing the role of mother hen. 

By the time they finally made it to their neighborhood, it was just past ten o’clock, which was almost two hours later than they would have gotten home if they hadn’t gone out to dinner. And they had both thought to text their mothers right after practice, letting them know their plans. So their late arrival wouldn’t be a problem. 

Once they were in front of Issei’s house, he stopped walking and cleared his throat, which made Takahiro pause beside him. There was something he needed to say.

“Hey, about what happened this morning, with that girl . . .”

“What about it?” Takahiro asked, tilting his head. The light from the porch was strong enough to reveal his expression, which was calm and unassuming.

“It was kinda embarrassing,” Issei mumbled, looking down at his feet.

This wasn’t something he would have even bothered bringing up if not for their sort-of-argument the previous week. But he was trying to make an effort to be more honest about his feelings, just like Takahiro wanted. 

With a soft hum of acknowledgement, Takahiro put his hands in his pockets, grinning apologetically. “Did I take it too far?”

“Yeah,” Issei replied, mustering up a bit more courage. He hated feeling like he was criticizing his best friend. “I appreciate that you were trying to defend me, but now I’m gonna feel awkward whenever I see that girl. She probably hates both of us.”

“Honestly, I don’t care if she hates me.” Takahiro’s voice was full of resentment and spite. Even if that girl really did hate his guts, the feeling was obviously mutual. “Act like a bitch, get treated like a bitch—and she was being a major bitch.”

Issei sighed and rubbed the side of his neck. “Yeah, I know. But can you just, like, tone it down a little bit next time we’re in that kind of situation?”

“Sure,” Takahiro said, giving Issei a reassuring pat on the arm. “And hey, the uniform looks great on you.”

Issei smiled, though it wasn’t very enthusiastic. “If you say so.”

“I do say so,” Takahiro said, reaching out to do their special handshake. “So you better take my word for it.”

When they were done shaking their hands and bumping their fists together, Takahiro turned to leave. But he didn’t seem all that steady on his feet. 

“I’ll walk you to your door,” Issei decided as he fell into step beside his best friend.

“You don’t have to do that,” Takahiro said, followed by a yawn. “I’ll be fine.”

“Yeah, well, it’s actually for my own benefit.” Issei patted his stomach, purposely pushing it out. “I ate so much that I need to walk it off a bit more. Otherwise, I’m gonna get indigestion.”

“Nice excuse, you old mother hen,” Takahiro said, glancing at Issei with a soft smile.

Then he almost tripped over his own feet, which made him chuckle. “Welp, if it’ll make you less anxious, I guess I’ll let you escort me all the way home.”

“I’m not anxious,” Issei said, having caught Takahiro by the elbow when he stumbled. He linked their arms together after that, like he had done so many other times that day. “I’m just being a good friend.”

“Mhm, whatever you say.” Takahiro nudged himself against Issei’s side. “We’ll focus on admitting when you’re angry for now, but at some point, you’re gonna have to start admitting when you’re anxious. Our friendship is gonna be a No-Bottled-Up-Feelings-Allowed zone.”

Issei snorted at that, not giving any other response. 

He wasn’t anxious, but he was concerned about Takahiro’s well-being, and the difference between those feelings was simple. When given a choice, he would always pick whichever option kept his best friend safer. Even if it made him seem a little overprotective. 

And there was no doubt in his mind that Takahiro would do the same for him. 

When they got to Takahiro’s front door, they said their goodbyes, did their special handshake again, and promised to meet up in the morning. Or rather, Issei promised to come over and make sure Takahiro was awake on time so they could walk to school without having to rush. 

That had been their daily routine for as long as Issei could remember. They always walked to school together, came home together, spent breaks together, and for the past three years, played volleyball together. 

Spending the next three years playing volleyball with his best friend was something Issei was looking forward to, and as he walked back towards his own house, he thought about his new teammates. They all seemed like decent guys.

As chipper and nonchalant as Oikawa tried to act, it was clear that he was dead serious about making it to nationals—so were all the other first-years, for that matter. And having teammates with the same aspirations as him really lit a fire in Issei’s belly. The spark that had already been there was burning even brighter, strengthening his resolve.

He would be willing to bet that Takahiro felt the same way.

When he finally reached his own front door, Issei unlocked it and stepped inside, still lost in thought about the events of that day and the various prospects of his future.

So he almost went past the living room without noticing his mother. 

However, he caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye right before he reached the hallway, and he did a double take, backing up to get a better look. 

She was sitting on the couch in her pajamas, with her face buried in her hands. And that was never a good sign. 

“Hey,” Issei said, walking over to stand in front of her. “Are you alright?”

Yuko sniffled as she lifted her face, wiping her eyes. Then she gave a watery smile and tucked her hair behind her ears.

“I’m fine, sweetheart.” She checked her watch and sniffled again. “Goodness, you’re home late tonight. Did you have fun with your friends? And how do you like your new team?”

Issei knew his mother didn’t like burdening him with her problems, so he didn’t press for more information.

Instead he just answered her questions. 

“Yeah, it was fun. And my teammates seem cool,” he said, shifting his book bag from his shoulder to his hand, where he was already holding his draw-string bag. Then he gently stretched his neck. “The other first-years really wanna make it to nationals, just like me and Takahiro do. So we’re all gonna work hard to make it happen.”

“That’s wonderful,” Yuko said, her voice sincere, though still thick with emotion from whatever had upset her. “I’m sure you’ll accomplish your goal. You’ve always been good at following through with things . . . Well, unless Takahiro gave up on it. Then you’d drop whatever it was like it never even mattered. That’s what happened when you boys tried soccer, and baseball, and track, and—”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve got a history of being a quitter by association.” Issei let out a soft chuckle, scratching a sudden itch behind his ear. “I guess I’m not as reliable as I should be.”

“No, that’s not true. You’re exactly as reliable as you need to be,” Yuko insisted, getting to her feet and squeezing Issei’s arms as she looked up at him. “I didn’t mean to make it seem like you give up on things without a good reason. It’s okay to decide that sticking with your friend is more important than sticking with a sport, and it’s okay to back out of things that aren’t making you happy anymore.”

Issei stared at his mother, not knowing what to say.

There seemed to be a hidden meaning behind her words, and whatever it was, it appeared to be making her sad.

But she didn’t explain herself. She just stood on her tiptoes and reached up towards the top of Issei’s head, which required him to lean down. And then she ran her fingers through his hair as if it were him, not her, who needed comfort. 

“It’s past my bedtime,” she said after a moment, giving Issei’s hair one final ruffle. “Try not to stay up too late.”  

“Alright,” Issei replied, standing up straight again and watching his mother leave the room. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Yuko said, glancing back at Issei with a tired smile, which he was only able to see thanks to the light coming from the hallway. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Issei echoed.

He stayed near the couch until his mother closed her bedroom door. 

Then he sighed, going into the kitchen to have a tall glass of water, though there was hardly room for it in his stomach. He was still extremely full from dinner. 

After washing his glass and putting it in the drying rack, he shuffled through the dining room and yawned as he walked down the hallway, turning the light off as he went. 

When he passed his father’s office, there was light shining out from beneath the door. He stopped in front of it, briefly considering whether or not he should knock and bid him goodnight, since he hadn’t seen him at all that day. 

He hadn’t seen his father that often over spring break either, because he spent a lot of it at Takahiro’s house. And their paths hadn’t been crossing very much before that. So going with him to the barber shop the previous day was the most he had seen of him in quite a while.

Mr. Matsukawa always left for work early and came home late. That’s how it had been for the past several years, and there was no sign of it changing. 

As things were, Issei saw Takahiro’s father more often than he saw his own. 

Right as he was reaching to knock on the door, he remembered that his mother had been crying. It almost certainly had something to do with his father. And ever since overhearing that fight between his parents the previous month, he felt weird about being around him without anyone else there. 

The weight of his father’s disappointment in him was still too heavy to ignore. 

So he didn’t stop to greet him after all. He just turned away and quietly walked into his bedroom, leaving his school bags on the floor beside his desk and grabbing his pajamas from his dresser. 

Then he went to the bathroom, taking a quick shower and skipping a bath, because he was tired enough that he was worried about falling asleep while he was in there.

And after his shower, he went right to bed. 

But despite his exhaustion, he was kept awake by thoughts about the girl who probably hated him now, all the new teammates he would have to get to know better, how hard he needed to work to make it to nationals, the homework sheets he hadn’t bothered to do yet, whether or not he could get up early enough to do those homework sheets before going to make sure Takahiro was awake, the worsening discord between his parents, guesses about why his mother had been crying, and countless other things that suddenly needed his immediate attention. 

It was past midnight when he finally fell asleep, and the last thing to cross his mind was that maybe Takahiro was right about him—he did get excessively anxious sometimes, especially when there was so much going on in his life. 

Chapter Text

After attending Aoba Johsai for approximately nine weeks, Issei and the other first-year members of the volleyball club had fallen into a predictable routine. There was school, practice, lots of homework, and plenty of hanging out together, which had become a regular occurance on Monday afternoons, when there was no practice. 

Coach Irihata believed that regular breaks were just as important as polishing skills, and on Mondays, everyone was required to avoid strenuous activity and refrain from playing volleyball, giving their bodies time to rest. 

There were almost no exceptions. 

In fact, Coach Mizoguchi had threatened to punish anyone who broke that rule.

And so, on a muggy Monday afternoon in the middle of June, with just over a month until the start of summer break, Issei and the other first-years went to Oikawa’s house after school. He only lived fifteen minutes away, and they had all been to his place on a few other occasions. 

Oikawa’s house was an old two-story building, with tatami flooring in the bedrooms, all of which were located upstairs. He and his family all slept on traditional futons, and in each of the four bedrooms, there was just a minimal amount of furniture. Oikawa’s room only had a long, low desk for his computer, a floor chair, a short bookshelf, a dresser, and a wide closet with sliding doors.

It was similar in the other three bedrooms, where his mother, his (much) older sister, and his nephew stayed. 

No one was around when Oikawa brought his friends home, which meant they had the place to themselves. And everyone was hanging out downstairs, where it was cooler, though the living room felt quite crowded and stuffy with eight people in it.

Shido and Sawauchi were sitting on two cushions of the small couch, and sharing a single cushion on the other side was Yuda and Suzuki, who often found herself invited to whatever the boys wound up doing on Monday afternoons. 

At the short coffee table in front of the couch was Iwaizumi, with Oikawa to his left, Issei on his right, and Takahiro sitting across from him. He and Takahiro were in the middle of an arm wrestling match.

“C’mon, you can do it,” Issei said, grinning slightly as he watched Takahiro struggle against Iwaizumi, finally gaining some ground. “He’s about to give in.”

“Don’t let Makki beat you, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa ordered, staring at where Iwaizumi and Takahiro were pushing against each other’s hands, like they had been for the past thirty seconds. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Iwaizumi retorted as he strained harder, almost beating Takahiro right then and there. 

But thanks to the secret weight training Takahiro had been doing over the past couple of months, much of his former strength had returned, and he was no longer suffering from any anemia-related weakness. So he managed to push Iwaizumi’s hand back, though it wasn’t enough to give him a clear advantage. 

“Almost there, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, focusing intently on the battle of wills that was happening between his friends. “If you win, Mattsun owes me a fresh loaf of milk bread.”

Hearing that made Issei glance at Oikawa in a somewhat awkward way, because he still wasn’t quite used to the nickname he had been given. He and all the rest of them, aside from Suzuki, had been assigned an Oikawa-style term of endearment. 

Issei was Mattsun, Takahiro was Makki, Yuda was Yudacchi, Shido was Shikun, and Sawauchi was Saapyon, as far as Oikawa was concerned. It seemed like he was set on calling almost everyone by anything other than their actual name. 

Overall, the nicknames were likable enough. 

It’s just that Issei was having a hard time adjusting to being addressed so informally by someone he didn’t know that well. In his mind, Oikawa was still just a teammate rather than an actual friend. And not one he felt particularly attached to at this point.

Lack of familiarity and attachment didn’t seem to be a problem for Takahiro, who had expressed a sense of lighthearted amusement over having a special nickname. He also acted like Oikawa was someone he, for the most part, enjoyed being around. And it was the same with Iwaizumi and the other first-years, as far as friendship went. 

There was a strange, subtle irony in that, given how Takahiro had been rather set against forming close ties with other kids back in elementary school. But then again, he used to be jealous whenever Issei made friends other than him, and that was another thing he seemed to have gotten past. 

From middle school onward, Sakamoto had been the only person Takahiro immediately viewed with unshakeable disdain and mistrust, and his caution was warranted after what ended up happening.

As far as Issei could tell, Takahiro’s hostile reaction to Sakamoto had just been a result of his impeccable ability to judge someone’s character. 

Outside of that, Takahiro was finally comfortable branching out beyond his and Issei’s friendship. It was as if he felt confident that their lives would always be deeply intertwined, like the roots of two saplings that had sprouted right beside each other, growing up side by side since the very beginning. 

His newfound confidence made him secure enough in their friendship to let go of his concerns about being uprooted and replaced. He didn’t bristle when Issei playfully interacted with Yuda, or Suzuki, or Oikawa, or Iwaizumi, or any of their other teammates. It seemed as though he had decidedly outgrown his bouts of jealousy.

Issei attributed Takahiro’s leap in maturity to forming a close friendship with Yuda, because that had been a major turning point for both of them when it came to branching out socially. Spending time with Yuda eventually led to them hanging out with Suzuki, and even though they were the only real friends Issei and Takahiro had made in middle school, it had been a huge milestone for them.

The slam of someone’s fist hitting the table abruptly summoned Issei’s attention back to the arm wrestling match, and he stopped spacing out in time to see Takahiro make a face over losing.  

“Wow,” Yuda said, staring at Iwaizumi in awe. “You always win. Like, seriously, I’ve never seen you lose.”

Oikawa spoke in a smug voice. “No one can beat Iwa-chan.”

“Especially not you,” Iwaizumi said with a wry smile. 

“Actually, I could beat you if I wanted to,” Oikawa claimed, stubbornly pointing his nose in the air. “I always let you win.”

Iwaizumi rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure.” 

After sticking his tongue out in response, Oikawa flopped down on the carpeted floor, fanning himself with the pillow he had been sitting on. “It’s so hot in here.”

“Can’t you turn on the air conditioner?” Shido asked, nodding at the wall unit that was near the front door.

Oikawa sighed and shook his head. “I wish, but that old thing’s broken. We’re getting a new one installed next week.” 

“We should’ve gone to my place,” Iwaizumi grumbled as he pulled at the front of his button-up shirt, trying to get some air to flow through it. 

“Mmm, actually no, we shouldn’t have,” Oikawa said, fanning himself a little harder with the pillow, though the effort of that was probably making him hotter than he would have been if he sat still. “Your dad hates coming home to a bunch of people he doesn’t know.”

“Getting yelled at in a cold room is better than sweating my ass off here,” Iwaizumi muttered, grabbing one of the magazines that was sitting on the coffee table and fanning himself with it.

“I’d, uh . . . if I had a choice, I’d rather, uhm, avoid getting yelled at,” Sawauchi mumbled, tugging at his shirt collar. He was sandwiched between Shido and Suzuki on the couch, and he was doing his best not to touch either of them. 

Everyone was still in their school uniform, but they had stripped down to the lightest layer of it, leaving them all in their lavender dress shirts, which were folded up to their elbows. And they had their slacks rolled up to just below their knees, except for Suzuki, who was in a skirt. 

Even with how hot the room was getting thanks to being so crowded, Suzuki and Yuda were pressed right up against each other, only managing to fit on one cushion because neither of them took up much space. Suzuki was as petite as ever, and Yuda was one of the shortest, thinnest guys in the volleyball club, though he was still average in both areas when compared to the rest of the kids at school.

“You know, there’s this river I went to a lot last summer. It’s got a great swimming hole,” Shido said, fanning himself with a notebook from his book bag. “But it’s probably too late for that today.”

“It won’t be dark for a few more hours,” Oikawa noted, sitting up like he was excited. “Let’s go check it out!”

“I don’t really wanna do that,” Issei said, feeling his lingering fear of swimming in rivers well up inside of him. 

If it were a public pool, he would have no problem with it. But ever since what happened to his sister and best friend, there was just something about natural bodies of water that got his heart racing—and not in a good way. 

“I think we should go.” Takahiro was staring at Issei with a knowing look. “It’ll be a good opportunity to work on our swimming skills, y’know?” 

Issei wasn’t in the mood for working through his fear, so he was about to come up with an excuse.

But he didn’t get the chance.

“Oh no, I need to get home!” Sawauchi stood up anxiously, having just checked the time on his phone. “I’m supposed to watch my little sister while my parents go out for their anniversary!”

“I can ask my sister to give you a ride,” Oikawa offered, fanning himself with a pillow again as he flopped back down on the carpet. “She’ll be getting home soon, like maybe thirty minutes.”

“Oh, uh, no thanks. That’ll be too late,” Sawauchi said, grabbing his book bag before rushing towards the front door. He slipped his shoes on once he was there. “Thanks for having me over, bye everyone, see you tomorrow!”

He opened the door, nearly tripping on his way out. And then he was gone.

“Saapyon’s such a jumpy little thing,” Oikawa remarked as he stared at the front door. Then he stopped fanning himself, putting the pillow under his head. “I still think we should go swimming.”

“Me and Ume-chan can’t go swimming today,” Yuda said. “We’ve got plans to see a movie and go out to dinner.”

“But swimming does sound fun,” Suzuki added as she scooted over a little bit, sitting on the cushion that Sawauchi had just vacated. “Let’s do that another time.”

“We should all go together once summer break starts,” Shido suggested. “That way, we can spend a whole day at the river.”

“That’s a great idea,” Oikawa said. “We can go for a few hours once Yudacchi and Suzuki-chan leave, and then we’ll all go back later.”

There were murmurs of agreement, but Issei reluctantly pursed his lips, not saying anything. He wasn’t sure how bearable that would be for him. 

Meanwhile, Takahiro went to sit right next to Issei, though he didn’t get close enough to touch him. It was far too hot for that.

Then he spoke like he was reading Issei’s mind, wanting to reassure him.

“I’m sure it’ll be fun hanging around a nice, cool, refreshing river. We could bring lots of snacks. And we all know how to swim, so it won’t be dangerous.”

“I’m not up for it today,” Issei insisted. “Let’s just wait for summer break.” 

“Ugh, fine, we’ll wait,” Oikawa said, rolling onto his stomach. “Fan my back, Iwa-chan.”

“I’m not your personal assistant,” Iwaizumi muttered, though he took the pillow Oikawa had been using, fanning his back with it. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” Yuda said, sitting up taller beside Suzuki, who was holding his hand. “I overheard our coaches talking about Oikawa the other day.”

“Really?” Oikawa stared at Yuda with a curious smile, wiggling his feet as he relaxed on his stomach. “What were they saying?”

“That your sets are really versatile. Oh, and they’re gonna have you set during our next practice game against another school,” Yuda replied, his eyes full of excitement on Oikawa’s behalf. “They wanna see how you do under pressure.”

“No way.” Oikawa rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling, like he couldn’t handle the shock of such unexpected news. “I can’t believe they already noticed me.”

“Of course they have,” Iwaizumi said, looking at Oikawa with a completely sincere expression. “You work hard, you’re talented, and you’ve been busting your ass every day, setting to every single person on the team as often as you can. They’d have to be complete idiots not to see that.”

Oikawa squealed, hugging a pillow to his chest and kicking his feet against the floor. It was the most pure, genuine, and silly display of excitement Issei and the others had witnessed from him.

Everyone was watching Oikawa, except for Takahiro, who was staring at Iwaizumi in a particularly amused kind of way.

Iwaizumi cleared his throat as his cheeks turned red, gruffly adding, “Don’t let it go to your head, dumbass.”

After a few more seconds of expressing his joy, Oikawa rolled back over onto his stomach, resting his chin on his fists as he beamed at his teammates. “This is the first step in making our dreams come true. Once we’re all starters, we’ll make it to nationals for sure!”

“Not to be a pessimist, but I doubt we’re all gonna get to be starters at the same time,” Takahiro said, fanning himself and Issei with one of the magazines that had been on the coffee table. “I mean, sure, there’s seven of us and seven starting spots, but there’s also the second-years. And the fact that none of us are a libero.”

“It would be kinda cool to take over all the starting spots though,” Issei mused. “Maybe we can get Sawauchi to be our libero.” 

“Yeah, it’s not like he’s been a middle blocker for very long,” Yuda said. “Doubt he’s that attached to being one.”

“Just the other day, Sawauchi told me he doesn’t think he can handle the pressure of playing in an actual game,” Shido remarked, leaning his elbow on the arm of the couch as he fanned himself with his notebook. “He said he only joined the club to make his parents happy, ‘cause they wanted him to make friends and stuff. So I think he’d be relieved if he didn’t have to be a starter.”

“Hm, that’s not surprising,” Issei said as he unbuttoned his collar to cool down a little bit. The room was growing stuffier by the minute. “He always looks terrified when we play practice games.”

“Yeah, he flinches whenever the ball comes his way,” Takahiro added, still diligently fanning himself and Issei with a magazine. They were both flushed from how warm the room had become. 

Yuda ran his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair, looking thoughtful. “I’m pretty sure his favorite part of practice is cleaning stuff up when we’re done.”

“Couldn’t he just be the team manager?” Suzuki asked as she tied her long hair up in a high bun, getting it away from her neck. “That way, he’s still part of the team, but he wouldn’t have to deal with performance anxiety.”

“He’d probably be even more anxious as the team manager,” Iwaizumi said, using the back of his hand to wipe some sweat off his brow. “Instead of getting to be up in the audience during games, he’d have to be down on the court.”

“That’s right,” Oikawa agreed, looking over at where Yuda and Suzuki were sitting next to each other on the couch. “Besides, I still think you’d make a great team manager, Suzuki-chan. Just think about it. Wouldn’t you like to get more time with your precious boyfriend?”

“I’m already in the yearbook club,” Suzuki pointed out as she began fanning herself with the magazine Issei had just handed her. 

“She’ll show her support from up in the bleachers,” Yuda added, putting his arm around Suzuki’s shoulders and giving her a gentle squeeze. But he let go right afterwards, like he was finally hot enough to avoid cuddling. “Just like Sawauchi and whoever else won’t be out on the court.”

“Well, if Saapyon’s content with that, he and Suzuki-chan can support our dream by cheering us on during games,” Oikawa said as he sat up and stretched his legs out in front of himself, sounding much more earnest than anyone might have expected. “Keeping morale up from the sidelines is an important job.”

Shido grinned hesitantly. “I’m glad to hear you say that, ‘cause I don’t really wanna be a starter either. I just like being part of the club.”

Hearing that made Oikawa gape in disbelief, and then he pouted, crossing his arms. “What happened to our promise to go to nationals together, Shikun?”

“You guys don’t need my help to make that happen,” Shido said, switching his notebook to his other hand so that he could continue to fan himself. “When it comes down to it, I’m not much better than Sawauchi is.”

“Well, you’ve only been playing for a year, Shikun. That’s hardly any time at all. And you know, most people don’t start out with noticeable talent,” Oikawa lectured, getting a distant—and somewhat angry—look in his eyes. “We can’t all be geniuses. But if you work hard, you can make your talent grow, no matter how small it is at first.”

Takahiro snorted, briefly grabbing his crotch. “I’ve got something small that grows.”

“For heaven’s sake, Makki, there’s a lady present.” Oikawa grabbed a magazine from the stack on the coffee table, throwing it at Takahiro’s face. “Pull your head out of the gutter.”

Issei caught the magazine before it could hit Takahiro, though he rolled it up right after, bopping Takahiro’s forehead with it a few times. “Trust me, she’s heard worse from him.” 

“How dreadful,” Oikawa exclaimed, as if he himself didn’t say things that were ten times as inappropriate when Suzuki wasn’t around. 

“Just a word of advice, don’t make dirty jokes in front of Oikawa’s family,” Iwaizumi cautioned, glancing around like Oikawa’s mother and sister might be listening from somewhere nearby, even though neither of them were home. “They get real pissed about ‘ungentlemanly’ behavior.”

“My dad walked out on my mom when I was four, and my sister’s ex-boyfriend left her right before my nephew was born,” Oikawa explained in a casual manner. “So they both hate men who don’t know how to be respectful around women. Oh, and my mom really hates cursing.” He smirked like he had just remembered something funny. “One time, Iwa-chan called me a dumbass in front of her, and she made him eat soap.”

“That’s nothing compared to when she made you write an apology letter to that girl who used to live across the street,” Iwaizumi said. “You had to read it out loud in front of her whole family.”

“Why’d he have to write an apology letter?” Yuda asked, grabbing a magazine to fan himself. 

“Because he spit at her when she said she had a crush on him,” Iwaizumi replied, chuckling and shaking his head. “He’s always been such a rude piece of shit.”

“I was literally eight when that happened, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa scoffed. “I’m way nicer than I used to be!”

“Wow, your mom’s a real stickler about raising you to be a polite young man.” Takahiro sounded like he was quite entertained by the knowledge he had just been given. “I wonder how she feels about all the girls you’re always surrounded by now. You don’t spit at any of ‘em, right? You just bask in all that attention they give you.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes flashed with irritation, and he scowled, glancing at Oikawa for a brief moment.

Seeing that made Takahiro smile ever so slightly, though nobody else noticed Iwaizumi’s reaction to his words. He was the only one who had been watching for it.

“It’s not my fault girls find me so attractive,” Oikawa said, flipping his hair, though his bangs were stuck to his sweaty forehead. “And I’ve never treated any of them with less respect than they deserve.”

Issei raised an eyebrow. “If you’re such a respectful guy, why’d your girlfriend break up with you?”

“And what about the one before that?” Takahiro asked, though he was still observing Iwaizumi out of the corner of his eye. “Seems like you’ve got a new girlfriend every week.”

Iwaizumi suddenly got to his feet, turning to leave the room, though not before Takahiro and Oikawa caught sight of his grumpy expression. “I’ve gotta piss.”

After watching Iwaizumi storm off, Oikawa turned his attention to Issei and Takahiro, both of whom had just moved to sit right in front of the couch, taking Iwaizumi’s spot. “It’s none of your business why they broke up with me.”

Takahiro crossed his arms and nodded sagely. “Ah, so it’s a performance issue.”

“What are you trying to say?” Oikawa asked, narrowing his eyes defensively. 

“Shhh, it’s not a big deal,” Takahiro said in a soothing voice, reaching over to pat the top of Oikawa’s head, which earned him a smack on the hand.

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Issei added, flashing a grin. “We’re not judging you.”

“Let’s just talk about something else,” Takahiro decided as he winked at Oikawa, who flipped him off in response. “Hey, you know what? I finally get to join practice tomorrow. That’s exciting, isn’t it?”

“Don’t you have to get checked out at the hospital tomorrow?” Suzuki asked as she used her handkerchief to dab up sweat from her neck and chin.

“Yeah, they’ve gotta look at my stomach again and check my iron, so I’ll be gone for the first half of the day,” Takahiro replied, rubbing at the crook of his arm, like he was dreading the blood draw he would have to get. “But I’ll be back in time for lunch, and I’ll be staying for practice.”

“Sorry I can’t go with you,” Issei said, gently nudging his elbow against Takahiro’s side.

Takahiro shrugged, putting on a brave face. “It’s fine. Getting through it means I’ll finally get to play again, so I’ll manage.”

“I wonder what kind of spiker you are,” Oikawa said as he tapped his finger against his chin. Then he sprawled out on the carpet and smiled to himself. “Once we practice together, it’ll only take me a few minutes to figure it out.”

“Some might say my spiking style is the perfect balance of strength and elegance,” Takahiro said with a goofy grin, looking over at Iwaizumi, who had just walked back into the room. “But when it comes to spikers, you’re the one I’ve gotta beat. You’ve got excellent form.”

“Thanks.” Iwaizumi smiled a little bit as he sat down right next to Oikawa, though he was close enough to the coffee table to lean his elbow on it. 

“He’s coming back to practice tomorrow,” Oikawa explained, fanning himself with a magazine as he spoke. “We’ll finally get to see what he can do.”

Shido’s phone went off just then, so he pulled it out, checking his messages. “Darn, I’ve gotta go.”

“What time is it?” Yuda asked. 

“It’s almost five,” Shido replied, getting up and grabbing his book bag. Then he headed over to put his shoes on at the front door, glancing back at Oikawa before opening it. “Thanks for having me over.”

“Any time,” Oikawa said, waving at Shido from where he was still sprawled out on the floor.

“Bye everyone,” Shido called as he walked outside. “See you at practice tomorrow.”

After watching the front door close, Issei looked at Yuda. “When does your movie start?”

“At 5:30.” Suzuki was the one who answered, and she glanced at Yuda with a soft smile. “We should probably leave soon.”

“I’m surprised your parents didn’t ground you for getting in trouble last week,” Oikawa remarked as he continued to fan himself with a magazine.

He was referring to the previous Thursday morning, when the principal caught Yuda and Suzuki kissing at the end of the street that led to the school. 

Aoba Johsai’s principal, who was set to retire at the end of the academic year, was very strict when it came to enforcing rules, including the one about keeping students from dating each other. So after catching Yuda and Suzuki in an intimate embrace, he had them and their parents meet with him. 

It had been awkward for everyone involved.

However, their parents already knew they were dating and fully approved of the relationship. So even though the principal sternly suggested forcing a break up, it wasn’t something any of them actually planned on obeying. They simply nodded in agreement, and then they left with their children.

“My mom just told me to keep my hands to myself when we’re out in public,” Yuda said, blushing slightly. 

Suzuki was also blushing. “My mother said the same thing.”

And then Yuda stood up, helping Suzuki to her feet. It seemed like he was eager to leave now that he was feeling embarrassed. “Well, we’ve got a movie to catch.”

“Have fun on your date,” Issei said, grinning at them. “And remember, you’re gonna be in a public place.”

“Yeah, that means no smooching while you’re in the theater,” Takahiro called out as he watched his friends grab their bags and get their shoes on. 

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Oikawa chimed in, playfully wiggling his fingers as he watched them step outside.

“Yeah, yeah, very funny,” Yuda said with a dark blush, shaking his head slightly. “Bye, everyone.”

“See you guys later,” Suzuki added, not looking back as she closed the door.

“They’re so easy to tease,” Takahiro said, chuckling as he moved to sit on the couch.

Issei also went to sit on the couch, though he sat a whole cushion away from his best friend. The room had grown so hot that he didn’t feel like being close to anyone. 

And on the floor, Oikawa was relaxing like a starfish, staring up at the ceiling. He had a distant look in his eyes. 

Upon noticing that Oikawa was lost in thought, Iwaizumi reached over to mess with him.  

“Ow, what was that for?” Oikawa looked at Iwaizumi as he rubbed his ear, where he had just been flicked. 

“What are you scheming about?” Iwaizumi asked in a suspicious voice.

Oikawa sat up, smiling in annoyance. “I’m not scheming about anything.” 

“Liar,” Iwaizumi said, trying to flick Oikawa again, though it was dodged this time. “You’re always scheming and plotting.”

“Am not.” Oikawa stuck his tongue out, and then he started crawling away, as if he knew he was about to make Iwaizumi angry. “I was just thinking about letting you use my shower, because you smell like rotten ass.”

Iwaizumi crawled after Oikawa and tackled him, sitting on the back of his knees. Then he reached behind himself to tickle Oikawa’s feet. “Say that again, I dare you.”

“You’re a stinky old brute!” Oikawa shrieked, squirming as he tried to get away. “Quit it, Iwa-chan, I’m gonna pee myself!”

“Only if you tell me what you were actually thinking so hard about,” Iwaizumi said, mercilessly tickling Oikawa’s feet. 

“Fine, I will! Just get off me!” Oikawa yelled, squirming around even harder. Once he was released, he sat up and tucked his feet under himself, glaring at Iwaizumi with a petulant frown. 

Iwaizumi moved so that he was facing Oikawa, sitting close enough that their knees were touching. Then he impatiently crossed his arms and raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“I was just thinking about how Saapyon and Shikun are giving up before they’ve even really tried,” Oikawa admitted, looking disappointed as he met Iwaizumi’s gaze. “Neither of them are talented at this point, but with enough effort, they could change that.”

“Not everyone wants to pour all their time and energy into volleyball.” Iwaizumi was studying Oikawa’s face, speaking in a voice that could almost be called gentle, though it was still laced with the rough quality it usually had. “They’re not like you.”

“I’m not saying they have to be like me,” Oikawa countered, reaching for a magazine and using it as a fan when he flopped down on the carpet again, staying close to where Iwaizumi was sitting. “It’s just that we all have unique skills we bring to the court. And when we combine those skills, it makes us stronger.” He looked up at Iwaizumi with a soft grin. “You’re the one who taught me that, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened for a moment, and his cheeks took on a subtle blush. Then he scoffed and punched Oikawa’s arm, backing away from him afterwards so that there was more space between them. “Wow. You’ve finally gotten past thinking the game is all about you. At this rate, you might actually turn into a decent guy someday.”

“I’m already a decent guy,” Oikawa whined, rubbing his arm. Then he grabbed a pillow and threw it.

“No you’re not,” Iwaizumi said, catching the pillow and throwing it back at Oikawa, hitting him right in the face. “You’re still about fifty percent garbage, and that’s on a good day.”

“You’re always so mean to me, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa grumpily tucked the pillow under his head. “And you know I just got dumped yesterday. You should be a bit nicer to me when I’m heartbroken, don’t you think?”

“Oh, shut up. You can’t claim to be heartbroken over someone you only dated for six days,” Iwaizumi said, rolling his eyes. He suddenly looked quite irritated. “And it’s your own fault you got dumped. If you keep dating girls that only like you for your looks, they’re gonna keep leaving you once they get to know you better. You need someone who already knows how shitty you are.”

“I’m not shitty!” Oikawa exclaimed as he started kicking at Iwaizumi, though he was still lying on the floor. “You better take that back!”

Iwaizumi smacked Oikawa’s feet away, and then they started bickering, purposely getting on each other’s nerves.

Issei looked at Takahiro, who was calmly watching the drama unfold. 

As if he had sensed Issei’s gaze, Takahiro glanced over at him, cracking a grin. Then he scooted closer so that he could very softly whisper, “Lovers’ quarrel,” without being overheard.

That made Issei chuckle. 

It was certainly true that Oikawa and Iwaizumi fought often, like one might expect from a romantic couple made up of two equally strong-willed people such as them. They just had that type of friendship. 

After a bit more verbal harassment, Iwaizumi said something that seemed to strike a nerve, so Oikawa wrestled him to the ground, sitting on top of him as they pushed against each other’s hands. 

Meanwhile, Takahiro leaned close to Issei again, whispering under his breath. “Maybe we should give them some privacy to work out their, uh, personal stuff.”

Issei was about to respond with a joke of his own, but his attention was drawn by the sound of the front door opening. 

Everyone else looked over at the door as well, seeing two people on the other side, one of whom was holding a bunch of grocery bags. 

Issei and Takahiro had already met both of them once before. 

Oikawa’s sister, named Toshiko, was a quick-witted woman who had just turned twenty-six the previous week. She had long brown hair, which was tied up in a tight ponytail, and earthy brown eyes that were especially sharp. It could be said that she looked very much like a female version of Oikawa, though her chin and cheeks were a bit rounder than his. 

She was wearing a light green jumpsuit with black lettering on the back, where Sunrise Auto Paint & Repair was written. It had been about six years since she started working there, first as an apprentice to the owner, and now as a full-fledged mechanic. 

As she stepped through the front door, she set the grocery bags down and took off her heavy work boots, trading them for a soft pair of slippers. Then she picked the bags back up.

Her son, Takeru, came in right behind her. He was a typical seven-year-old boy, with a round face, curious eyes, and close-shaved dark hair. 

Based on the bright blue stains around his mouth and on his hands, he had recently eaten an ice pop. There were also some blue drips on the front of his shirt. And when he saw Oikawa sitting on top of Iwaizumi, he immediatly ran over to them.

“I’ll save you,” he exclaimed, pushing Oikawa off with a rough shove. Then he smiled at Iwaizumi. “Did you miss me?”

“I just saw you yesterday,” Iwaizumi replied, grunting in pain when Takeru suddenly jumped on top of him. He tolerated a hug for a few seconds, and then he gently pushed Takeru away. It was way too hot for affection from such a sticky-handed child.

Meanwhile, Oikawa sat up, rubbing the elbow he had landed on as he pouted at his nephew. “What am I, chopped liver?” 

“You might as well be,” Toshiko remarked with a sarcastic smile, using her foot to close the front door, which Takeru had left open. She had four extremely full plastic grocery bags in each hand, and even though she was struggling to carry them, she didn’t ask for any help. “God, it’s like a swamp in here. Crack a window or something.”

“It’s not any cooler outside,” Oikawa said, though he still went to open up the windows that were in the living room. He also opened the door that led out to the patio, making sure the screen was closed.

Meanwhile, Issei got up and hurried over to Toshiko, taking all of the bags from one of her hands. “Let me help you with that.”

“Thanks,” Toshiko said, shaking her wrist out for a moment before spreading the rest of her bags evenly between both hands. Then she smiled at Issei and led him into the kitchen, which was connected to the living room. “I’m glad my brother has such thoughtful friends. He’s a real dumbass sometimes, so it wouldn’t have been a surprise if he attracted the same kind of people. But thankfully he’s avoided that.”

“Yeah, he’s a real dumbass sometimes,” Takeru repeated in a cheerful, confident voice as he pointed at his uncle.

Iwaizumi snorted, quickly covering his face to hide his amusement. 

And as Oikawa came back from opening the patio door, he gasped, pressing a hand to his chest. “How could you say that about your favorite uncle?”

“Hey,” Toshiko said, her voice firm as she looked at her son from where she had just made it to the kitchen, with Issei at her side. “Don’t say that word.”

Issei set his half of the bags down on the counter, and then he retreated to the couch, where Takahiro was busy trying not to laugh.

“What word?” Takeru asked, tilting his head. “Dumbass?”

Iwaizumi started laughing even harder, rolling onto his side and curling up to hide his face better. 

“That’s exactly right,” Oikawa said, walking over to Iwaizumi and kicking him in the butt a few times, though he kept his eyes on Takeru as he spoke. “Don’t say ‘dumbass’ unless you want my mom to wash your mouth out with soap.”  

“But you said it,” Takeru complained. “And my mom just said it.”

“Grown-ups can say those kinds of words,” Toshiko said as she sorted through groceries.

“But he’s not a grown-up,” Takeru said, gesturing at Oikawa, who had just sat down on the carpet again.

Toshiko finished putting a carton of eggs into the fridge, and then she turned around, crossing her arms as she looked at her son. “He’s much older than you are, so don’t go thinking you can act like him.”

Her gaze shifted to Oikawa as she continued speaking. “And you better watch your mouth around Takeru, unless you wanna share his punishment when Mom hears him say that word.”

“Maybe you should try watching your mouth,” Oikawa muttered under his breath. But then he flashed an apologetic—and very insincere—smile. “Sorry, sis. I’ll be more careful.”

“And the same goes for you,” Toshiko said, scolding Iwaizumi with a stern look before she got back to putting groceries away. “Don’t be a bad influence.”

Iwaizumi sat up and nodded stiffly. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Hey, let’s battle,” Takeru said, pulling on Iwaizumi to get him closer to the coffee table. Then he went to the other side of it and got in position for an arm wrestling match. 

“Hope you’re ready to lose,” Iwaizumi taunted playfully as he leaned his elbow on the table, grabbing Takeru’s hand. “Ready, set, go!”

The two of them started arm wrestling, and Iwaizumi was putting on an act like he was much weaker than he actually was, which made Takeru giggle. And after about fifteen seconds, he let Takeru slam the back of his hand down on the table.

“Man, you just keep getting stronger and stronger,” Iwaizumi said as he held his limp hand up, shaking it a little bit. “You almost broke my fingers.”

Takeru jumped up and flexed his arms, letting out a loud, triumphant laugh. Then he pointed at Issei and spoke in a bossy voice. “You’re next!”

“Okay, but no breaking my fingers,” Issei said as he took Iwaizumi’s spot across the table from Takeru, who got into position again. The two of them put their hands together. “Ready, set, go.”

Issei only put up a struggle for a few seconds before letting Takeru win. 

“Ha!” After his second victory was handed to him, Takeru slammed both of his palms down on the table. “You’re so weak, even a girl could beat you!”

“Is that right?” Toshiko had just finished putting away the groceries, so she came sauntering into the living room, looking at her son with a wicked smile and a wolfish gleam in her eyes.

It was similar to the look Oikawa always got when he wanted to crush someone on the court.

And when she nodded at Issei, he quickly moved out of her way so that she could sit down at the coffee table. “Let’s see if you’re strong enough to beat a girl.”

Oikawa went over to sit between his sister and nephew, watching them grab each other’s hands from across the table. He wore the wary expression of someone who had endured the same punishment he was about to watch someone else get.

“I’ll call it,” he said. “Ready, set, go!”

Without a single drop of mercy, Toshiko immediately slammed her son’s hand down, doing so hard enough that it must have hurt a little bit. 

But it was his pride that took the most damage.

In the face of such an unexpected defeat, Takeru’s lip quivered, and he choked back a sob. Then he stood up and ran across the room, dashing up the stairs. 

“So cruel,” Oikawa remarked with a click of his tongue and a shake of his head, glancing at his sister. “Where’s all that motherly love you’re supposed to have for my poor, sweet nephew?”

“Not letting him get too full of himself is an act of love, and so is making sure he doesn’t think girls are weak,” Toshiko replied coolly as she got up and headed towards the stairs. “I’ll be damned if a son of mine ever looks down on women.”

Once she was out of earshot, Iwaizumi chuckled. “She did the same kind of stuff to Oikawa when he was younger. Any time he said something bad about girls, she’d kick his ass at whatever he thought he was good at.”

“Remember when she learned to play volleyball out of spite?” Oikawa asked, grinning at Iwaizumi in a nostalgic way. 

“Yep,” Iwaizumi replied. “She served the ball right at your face and nearly broke your nose.” 

“I can’t believe I’m saying this right now, but I kinda miss my big sister,” Takahiro said as he pulled out his phone.

He started looking through some messages he had recently gotten from Etsu, who had been making contact on a regular basis, though she hadn’t come back home to visit yet.

“Seems like it’s been forever since she was mean to me in person. All I get are these ‘hope you’re not being too annoying’ and ‘don’t be lazy about your homework’ texts.”

“Aw, how sweet,” Issei said, grinning as he read several other messages over Takahiro’s shoulder. “She’s worried about you.”

“You have a little sister too, don’t you?” Oikawa asked, leaning his elbows on the coffee table. 

“Yes,” Takahiro replied, giving Oikawa a suspicious look as he closed his flip phone, putting it back in his pocket. “And you won’t be going anywhere near her.”

“Same goes for my little sister,” Issei added, jumping at the chance to razz Oikawa for his own entertainment. 

Oikawa’s mouth fell open, and he looked from Takahiro to Issei, as if he wasn’t sure whether or not they were joking. “Oh my god, aren’t they in elementary school? Why are you making it seem like I’m some kind of creep who’d date a little kid?” 

“It’s a reasonable reaction,” Iwaizumi deadpanned. “If I had a sister, I’d keep her far, far away from a player like you.”

“You guys are mean! I’m not some weird, nasty pervert!” Oikawa became so upset that he got to his feet, crossing his arms as he glared at his friends. “And I’m not a player! I’ve never even asked a girl out—they always come to me! So stop treating me like I’m only capable of thinking with my dick!”

“Dude, we were just fucking with you,” Takahiro said, spreading his legs wide as he relaxed on the couch, fanning himself with a magazine. “We know you’re not really a perverted manwhore.”

“Yeah,” Issei agreed, feeling bad for taking the joke too far. “We know you’re a good guy deep down.”

“It’s just hard to see that through all the annoying shit you do,” Iwaizumi teased, though he seemed like he was also feeling a little guilty.  

“You all suck at apologies,” Oikawa muttered, though he didn’t look upset anymore as he headed towards the bathroom. “I’ve gotta pee. When I get back, let’s watch a movie.”

“Fine, but only if we watch it at my place,” Iwaizumi said as he unbuttoned his shirt all the way, fanning himself with a magazine afterwards. “It’s way too fucking hot here.”

“Will your dad be alright with that?” Issei asked, remembering what had been said earlier, about how Iwaizumi’s father didn’t appreciate unexpected company.

He hadn’t met him before, so he didn’t know what he was like. And that meant he didn’t know what to expect when interacting with him.

“Yeah, he won’t care if there’s just four of us,” Iwaizumi replied, going over to the front door and pulling his phone out of his bag. “He probably isn’t home yet, but I’ll let him know we’re coming.”

A few minutes later, Oikawa came back from the bathroom, so Iwaizumi buttoned his shirt back up and got ready to go. Everyone else made themselves a bit more presentable as well. 

Then they made their way to where Iwaizumi lived, which was only ten minutes away. But it was the hottest part of the afternoon. There was a slight breeze that wasn’t doing them much good, and they all covered their heads with their blazers to block the sun, though the humidity was what really made the heat unbearable. 

Each of them complained about how hot it was at least once while they were walking, with Takahiro expressing the most displeasure. He still hated being out in the heat.

Soon they arrived at Iwaizumi’s apartment building. It was one of the newer complexes in the area, and it was actually closer to school than Oikawa’s house. There was also a convenience store right across the street.

Iwaizumi’s apartment was on the top floor, so they climbed the zig-zagging concrete stairs that were on one end of the four story building, working up a sweat in the process. Then they walked along the highest of the covered corridors, which had a wall lined with doors on one side and a fence made of metal railing on the other. 

They finally made it to the very last door, and their weariness was blasted away when they stepped inside, where it was much cooler than it was outside. And because Iwaizumi turned down the thermostat that was near the front door, it was going to get even colder.

All of them left their shoes and bags near the entryway, and then Iwaizumi led them into the living room, which was towards the back of the apartment, right next to the sliding glass door that revealed a small balcony.

The entire apartment was very small and very clean. It was also very bare. There were no decorations on the walls, the hallway that went from the front door all the way into the living room was completely empty, the kitchen had hardly anything on the counters, and the only shoes near the front door were the ones they had all been wearing. 

In the living room, there was just a television sitting on a low shelf, a short coffee table, a small sofa, and a table in the corner with two chairs tucked underneath it. 

Issei had gotten a quick glimpse of Iwaizumi’s bedroom when they passed by its open door, and it was much the same as the rest of the apartment. The room was quite small, and it seemed to be extremely tidy, which wasn’t something most teenagers managed to accomplish. But the thing that stood out about it was the posters on the walls and the shelf filled with various figurines, though Issei hadn’t been able to make out what they were.

And now Issei was sitting on the small sofa, with Takahiro right beside him. It was possible for one more person to squeeze in between them—though it would be a tight fit.

“What kinda movie should we watch?” Iwaizumi asked, squatting down in front of the low shelf that the television was on. There were a few dozen DVDs to choose from.

Everyone replied at the same time.

“Sci-fi.”

“Horror.”

“Comedy.”

“Guess my vote decides it,” Iwaizumi said, glancing at each of his friends for a moment. Then he turned back towards the movies and ran his thumb over a few different titles. “We should watch Godzilla 2000 first. Then we can watch Godzilla Against Mechagodzilla, ‘cause that one’s really good.”

“Interesting proposition,” Oikawa said, crawling over to Iwaizumi’s side and pulling out a case, which he held up for everyone to see. “But I think Close Encounters of the Third Kind would be better. Just last week, Makki told me he’s never seen it, and I can’t let him live his life without watching one of the greatest movies ever made.”

There was a suppressed smile pulling at the corners of Takahiro’s mouth. “Soooo, does that mean you’re gonna kill me if I don’t watch it?”  

“If I have to,” Oikawa replied in a solemn voice.  

Iwaizumi pulled out the two DVDs he had mentioned. “Why don’t we watch all three?”

Takahiro nodded. “Yeah, I’m cool with that.”

“Fine,” Oikawa said. “But we’re watching mine first.”

“Actually, I’ve only got time for one,” Issei said, checking his phone. He was supposed to help Asami with homework once he got home, and it was nearly six o’clock already. “Why don’t you guys rock-paper-scissors for it?”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi held their hands up at the same time, doing ten consecutive rounds of rock-paper-scissors, until Oikawa finally got a win. The rest had all been ties. 

“Yay, you guys are gonna love this,” Oikawa said, rushing to put his preferred movie disc into the DVD player. “Will you make popcorn, Iwa-chan? And get some drinks while you’re at it.”

“Really? You’re not even gonna say please? I swear to god, you’ve got no fucking manners,” Iwaizumi grumbled, putting the other two cases back on the shelf. 

After that, he went to the kitchen, which was right around the corner from the living room, separated by a thin wall. 

Meanwhile, Oikawa got the movie ready, pausing it once it was all set up. Then he grabbed the remote and went to sit on the couch. Or rather, he sprawled out on top of Issei and Takahiro, making himself comfortable. 

“You’re heavier than you think you are,” Takahiro teased, resting an arm over Oikawa’s chest. 

“Yeah, you’re crushing my legs,” Issei added, though he didn’t actually mind the extra warmth. The room had become particularly cold thanks to the air conditioner, and while that was a welcomed change, it was almost enough to make him shiver.

“Well, you’ll just have to deal with it,” Oikawa said, smirking at them. “I’m not sitting on the floor.”

They were still stacked on the couch when Iwaizumi came into the room with a big bowl of popcorn and an armful of electrolyte drinks. His gaze slowly shifted from where Oikawa’s legs were draped over the side of the couch that Issei was sitting on, to where his shoulders were on Takahiro’s lap, to where his head was propped up on the armrest. 

And he definitely looked more irritated than usual after seeing that. 

Without saying anything, he set the bowl on the table and threw a drink at everyone, sitting on the floor in front of the couch afterwards. 

“There’s room for you up here, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, pointing to the small space that was between Issei and Takahiro, which might not be that uncomfortable to squeeze into. 

“I’m fine right here,” Iwaizumi muttered, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, like he might be feeling a bit chilly. 

“You’re not sitting down there,” Oikawa insisted as he sat up, making it so that he was directly on Issei’s lap. Then he patted the open space again. “Come on, get over here.” 

Iwaizumi shook his head and stared straight at the television, which was still paused at the very start of the movie. “It won’t be comfortable.” 

With an impatient sigh, Oikawa got to his feet and pulled at Iwaizumi’s arm, until he had forced him into the small space that was between their friends. Then he sat on top of him, putting his shoulders back on Takahiro’s lap and resting his legs over Issei again. “There, now we’ll be nice and cozy while we watch the movie.”

“It’s just as uncomfortable as I thought it would be,” Iwaizumi muttered, though he didn’t actually seem all that unhappy about it. He even put an arm over Oikawa’s waist. And his ears were red, not that anyone noticed. 

Once they were all settled in, Oikawa pointed the remote at the television, starting the movie he had picked out. Then he grabbed the big bowl of popcorn and put it on his stomach, where everyone could easily reach it. 

The only sounds in the room after that came from the actors saying their lines, the background music and special effects, the crunch of popcorn, and Oikawa’s unwanted commentary on every single scene. 

Apparently, he knew all kinds of facts about what went into making the movie. 

And as it turned out, so did Iwaizumi, because he had already seen it more than a dozen times at Oikawa’s insistence. That gave him the ability to mimic Oikawa whenever he tried to share his random trivia, much to Oikawa’s annoyance. 

But even with all those distractions, Issei and Takahiro managed to follow along with what was happening in the movie, right up until the end.

Around the same time as when the credits started rolling, the front door opened, and Iwaizumi’s father came into the apartment. 

Naoki Iwaizumi looked almost exactly like his son, though his eyes were much darker, he was taller than him, and he had a faded scar that ran just above his entire left eyebrow. There was a dark green cap on his head, hiding his black hair. And he was dressed in a light green jumpsuit that had Sunrise Auto Paint & Repairs written on the back. 

He and Oikawa’s sister were two of the five employees at the small mechanic shop he had owned for the past twenty years.

After taking his work boots off at the front door, Naoki carried a bag of take-out and a small white box into the living room, leaving both of those things on the coffee table. Then he nodded at the pile of boys, all of whom looked up at him from the couch. 

“Got dinner for you and your friends,” he remarked in a low voice, turning to leave the room. “There’s a cake in the box.”

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi said, sounding polite and sincere, though it also seemed like he was surprised. 

Oikawa waited for Naoki to go into the bathroom that was down the hall, and then he looked at Iwaizumi from where he was still lying across everyone’s laps. He appeared to be just as surprised as him.

“Did you . . . ask him to get you a cake?” 

“No,” Iwaizumi replied, pinching the bridge of his nose and letting out a frustrated sigh. “He probably thought I wanted to celebrate my birthday because I have friends over.”

“Wait, it’s your birthday?” Issei asked, leaning away from Iwaizumi so that he could get a better look at him, since they were still squeezed in right beside each other on the couch.

Iwaizumi’s answer came with great reluctance.

“. . . Yeah.”

Takahiro smiled as he hooked an arm around Iwaizumi’s neck, giving him an enthusiastic side hug. “Happy birthday!”

“Yeah, happy birthday,” Issei said, hugging Iwaizumi from the other side. 

Iwaizumi didn’t respond.

Instead, he just shoved Oikawa off his lap so that he could get up. Then he opened the bag of take-out and handed some of the containers to his friends. 

Takahiro and Issei glanced at each other, and then they looked at Oikawa, who hadn’t even complained about getting pushed onto the floor. 

An awkward silence fell over everyone as they ate. 

Nobody made a sound until they were done, at which point Iwaizumi stared at the white box that had a cake inside, letting out a sigh that was even more grumpy than the last one had been.

Oikawa was also staring at the white box, and he was fidgeting a lot. It seemed like he wanted to break the awkward silence, but for whatever reason, he didn’t say anything. 

After a few seconds of watching Iwaizumi glare at the white box, Takahiro cleared his throat. “I’m guessing this isn’t the best time to ask—but why didn’t you tell us it was your birthday, and why are you acting like that cake did something to personally offend you?”

Iwaizumi didn’t reply.

And even though Oikawa looked like he really, really wanted to give an explanation, he didn’t say anything either. 

“We should probably get going,” Issei suggested, slowly getting to his feet.

He didn’t know how to navigate this situation, and he wanted to escape from the overwhelming sense of awkwardness that had enveloped the entire room.

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Takahiro said, though he hesitated before standing up.

They started to walk away, but they stopped when Iwaizumi suddenly spoke. 

“Wait.”

Everyone looked at him. 

“Take this with you,” Iwaizumi said, giving the white box to Oikawa and pushing him towards the others. Then he got up and headed towards his bedroom. “Sorry, I need to be alone.”

Oikawa stared at Iwaizumi until the door closed. Then he handed the white box to Takahiro and gathered up the trash from their take-out, bagging it all up. He also turned the television off. 

When that was done, he gave one of his fake, overly forced smiles. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

Issei nodded, following Oikawa out of the living room and down the hallway, with Takahiro right behind him. They all slipped on their shoes at the front door. 

Then they went back into the heat of that humid June evening, which felt especially unpleasant when compared to the cold air of Iwaizumi’s apartment. But it was dark outside now. The sun wasn’t there to supply any extra warmth as they made their way down the stairs that zig-zagged along the side of the building. 

Takahiro was still holding the cake box, and he looked at Oikawa once they made it to the bottom of the stairs. “I don’t suppose you’re gonna tell us what that was all about?”

For nearly ten seconds, there was no response. 

And then Oikawa finally spoke.

“Iwa-chan must’ve seemed really weird to you guys,” he said as he came to a stop on the sidewalk that was in front of the building, just below a street light. His voice was serious, and his gaze was drawn back towards Iwaizumi’s apartment. “It’s just that he doesn’t like his birthday.” 

“Yeah, we kinda noticed,” Issei remarked, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He had his blazer and book bag in his arms.

“Why doesn’t he like it, though?” Takahiro asked, tilting his head.

“It’s not something he wants me talking about,” Oikawa replied, still sounding serious. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Issei said. “We understand.”

Takahiro nodded. “Yeah, no worries.” 

Oikawa seemed relieved to hear that. And then he slipped into a sort of forced cheerfulness, like he was so prone to do. “You guys are the best!”

“We know,” Takahiro said, holding the white box towards Oikawa. “Want this?”

“No, you can have it,” Oikawa replied. “I’m not in the mood for sweets.”

Takahiro put the white box in Oikawa’s hands. “Well, it would probably melt by the time we got it home.” 

“Hmmm, it’s a chocolate cake,” Oikawa murmured as he peeked inside the white box. “I guess I’ll use it to bribe Takeru into doing my chores.”

“That’s the spirit,” Takahiro said, turning to walk away. He and Issei lived in the opposite direction of Oikawa’s house. “Later, man.”

Issei waved before turning to leave. “See you tomorrow.”

“Bye-bye,” Oikawa called as he went the other way, tucking the cake box under one arm.

As they walked down the street, Issei and Takahiro both slung their white blazers over one shoulder, holding their book bags on that same side. Their pants and sleeves were no longer rolled up, so they looked somewhat presentable. 

They were moving at a leisurely pace, as if there was no hurry to get home. And neither of them felt inclined to speak. 

For several minutes, there was only the rumble of cars passing them, the murmurs of other pedestrians, the occasional chime of a crosswalk sign turning green, and the sound of their footsteps hitting the pavement. 

“Did you like the movie?” Takahiro eventually asked, glancing at Issei as they passed by a shop that was closing for the night. 

“Yeah, it was good,” Issei replied, briefly meeting Takahiro’s gaze. And then, after a moment of hesitation, he spoke again. “What do you think about Iwaizumi’s grudge against his birthday?”

“Seems like it might be complicated,” Takahiro said as he and Issei stopped at a crosswalk. “I wanna know what it’s all about, and honestly, I was kinda hoping Oikawa would explain it.”

“He must really respect Iwaizumi’s privacy,” Issei noted. “If it was anyone else’s secret, I think he would’ve told us.”

Takahiro shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. It’s hard to figure out exactly what type of guy he is.”

“Hmm? It’s not like you to have trouble reading someone,” Issei teased, gently nudging Takahiro with his elbow. “You’ve always claimed to be a great judge of character.”

“Yeah, ‘cause I am,” Takahiro said, cracking a sly grin. “That’s why I figured out Iwaizumi’s secret the first day we met him.” 

Issei glanced at Takahiro as they began walking again, crossing the street once they were able to do so. “You know why he doesn’t like his birthday?”

“Not that secret.” Takahiro put his free hand in his pocket, still using his other to hold onto his blazer and book bag. “The other one.”

Issei gave Takahiro a puzzled look. “What do you mean?” 

“What do you mean, ‘what do I mean’?” Takahiro sounded genuinely caught off guard. “It’s pretty obvious, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Issei asked, wrinkling his forehead as he thought hard about it.

Takahiro stopped walking when they reached the other side of the street, forcing other pedestrians to weave around him. He was staring at Issei in disbelief. “You really don’t know?”

“I seriously don’t,” Issei replied, his tone becoming slightly frustrated. “And I never will, unless you tell me.”

“Iwaizumi likes Oikawa. You know, like, he’s in love with him,” Takahiro explained as he started walking again. 

“Oh,” Issei said, following Takahiro down the sidewalk. He would never have made that assumption himself. From what he had seen, Oikawa and Iwaizumi just seemed like really good friends. “Are you sure?”

“Yep,” Takahiro replied. “I’d bet a whole year of my allowance on it.”

“When exactly did you figure it out?” Issei asked, deciding to go ahead and take Takahiro’s word for it. 

“I figured it out after watching him and Oikawa interact for the first time,” Takahiro said as he and Issei came to a mostly empty overpass, which was above a busy street. He kept walking while looking down at all the cars going back and forth beneath them. “With how he acts around Oikawa, he might as well be blowing him really aggressive kisses.”

There was a group of people jogging towards them on the overpass, so Issei grabbed Takahiro’s arm, moving him to one side of the path. “Do you think Oikawa knows about it?”

“It’s hard to tell for sure, but I don’t think he does,” Takahiro replied, glancing at all the joggers as they went by. “Oh, and I don’t think Iwaizumi is consciously aware of his feelings, either.”

“What makes you say that?” Issei asked as he and Takahiro made it to the other side of the overpass.

“I mean, it’s Iwaizumi we’re talking about,” Takahiro said in a playful voice. “Do you think he’d wanna admit to himself that he has a crush on Oikawa, of all people?”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Issei snorted. “He’s probably in denial.”

“It’ll be interesting to see what happens with them,” Takahiro said as his mouth twisted into a mischievous smirk. “I’m looking forward to seeing how it all plays out.”

“You know, I feel kinda bad for him. He probably gets super jealous watching Oikawa date all those girls,” Issei said. “And now that I think about it, he seems a bit territorial, doesn’t he? Like whenever anyone touches Oikawa.”

“Yeah, he got all grouchy when he saw Oikawa sitting on us, and that’s not the first time I’ve seen him act like that. But I don’t think he even realizes that he’s jealous.” Takahiro moved his blazer and book bag to his opposite shoulder, letting out a devious chuckle. “To be honest, I kinda wanna be extra touchy towards Oikawa now, just to see what Iwaizumi does.”

“I don’t think you should,” Issei said, frowning slightly. 

“Aw, why not?” Takahiro asked. He looked and sounded like a little kid who had just been told not to hold a magnifying glass over an ant. 

Even though Issei had a persistent gut feeling that messing with Iwaizumi and Oikawa wasn’t a good idea, he had a hard time putting it into words. So he had to deeply consider it before coming up with a reply.

“I think it kinda crosses a line . . . like, that’s not something to joke around about.” Issei glanced at Takahiro to make sure his criticism wasn’t upsetting to hear. “And if you stir things around too much, it could really hurt someone’s feelings. Or fuck up our team dynamics.”

“Ah, yeah, that’s true,” Takahiro said in a casual tone, like he wasn’t at all bothered about Issei disagreeing with him. “We should focus on getting noticed by our coaches. If we wanna be starters next year, we’ve gotta stand out at practice.”

“Speaking of practice, are you excited about tomorrow?” Issei asked as he and Takahiro made it to a quieter part of town, getting closer to their neighborhood, though they still had a ways to go.

“Hell yeah,” Takahiro replied, stopping to do a few shallow squats. “But I’m way weaker than I used to be.”

“You’ll get your strength back before too long,” Issei said, making himself sound nonchalant. “Especially if you keep up with that weight training you’ve been doing.”

Takahiro almost looked startled, though he was quick to recover. “How’d you know I’ve been lifting weights?” 

“Your dad mentioned it,” Issei replied, giving a slight grin. “He asked me if I’ve been getting to use any of the dumbbells he got for you a couple months ago. Then he told me you’ve been really consistent about using them.”

“Damn it, I wanted to surprise you tomorrow by being able to spike a ball as hard as I could in middle school,” Takahiro muttered, grumpily shoving his hand in the pocket of his plaid slacks.

“I’ll act surprised,” Issei promised, trying not to laugh. 

“Good, you better,” Takahiro said, still sounding a bit grumpy. Then he suddenly groaned. “You know what I just realized?”

“What?”

“Lifting weights hasn’t been too bad, but practice is gonna make me feel like an apple that rolled down a big, rocky hill.” Takahiro rubbed the back of his neck, as if he was already feeling the effects of the next day’s practice. “And I’m not supposed to take Advil anymore.”

“Well, we don’t want you getting more ulcers,” Issei remarked, his tone sympathetic.  

“I know,” Takahiro sighed. “It’s just hard to sleep when my muscles are all tight and tense.”

“If you want, I’ll rub your shoulders when it’s really bad,” Issei offered. 

Takahiro grinned. “You will?”  

“Yep,” Issei replied. “But not every day. Maybe like . . . twice a week, three times at most.”

“You’re a real pal,” Takahiro said, bumping himself against Issei as they walked side by side. 

“I’m just offering incentives,” Issei teased. “Don’t want you quitting after all this time.”

“Hey, I’m not gonna quit,” Takahiro said, sounding serious and determined. “We’re gonna play together until the end of high school, no matter what.”

“Alright, I believe you.” Issei nudged Takahiro’s arm. “For now, let’s just focus on getting you back in the game.”

After a few days of being able to practice, Takahiro had fully adjusted to playing volleyball again. He wasn’t even that rusty. His spikes had a little less power than they used to, and his endurance during drills still needed some improvement, but he was doing everything he could to fix that. 

As for Issei, he had never been happier about going to practice than he was when Takahiro could finally join back in. He liked running together, passing the ball back and forth when they worked on receiving, and watching Takahiro get spikes past the other players during practice games between their own teammates, which they did every Friday evening. 

They were currently in the middle of one of those practice games. 

It was the first-years—minus Shido, who was playing for the other side—against most of the second-years on the team. The only second-year on Issei’s side was a libero, since there were no first-year liberos. And because there were no second-year setters, one of the second-year middle blockers was filling in as setter for the second-year team.

The third-years, which included most of the current starters, were watching with the coaches from the sidelines. They would be doing practice games against each other later on. 

The score was currently 23-16 in favor of the first-years, and the match was getting intense. Everyone was desperate for the next point. There was a rumor that those who did well during this game would be more likely to earn a starting spot once the third-years retired from the team, which was going to happen in the next month or two.

Issei’s team had already taken the first set, so if they managed to take this one as well, the game would be theirs.

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa called out, skillfully sending the ball his way. 

With a speedy approach, Iwaizumi ran forward and slammed the ball down, doing so like he was born for it. The way he and Oikawa synched up when they played was always a thing of beauty. Their mutual trust allowed them to show off the full range of their skills, especially when it came to important moments in the game, such as going for a break when there was a deuce, or fighting back when their team had been backed into a corner.

But it wasn’t just Iwaizumi who was benefiting from Oikawa’s tosses. Each one he sent seemed to match exactly what each player liked to work with, whether it went to Iwaizumi, Yuda, Takahiro, Issei, or Sawauchi—though he was as terrified of the ball as ever. 

Not only did Oikawa have a great memory for things like how high his spikers liked to hit and how far away from the net the ball needed to be, he was also unbelievably observant on (and off) the court. When it came to volleyball, he could gather relevant information just by watching people interact. 

After that point was won by Iwaizumi, everyone got back into place, waiting for Oikawa to serve the ball. 

Issei’s team just needed one last point to claim the game. 

They all watched Oikawa get ready to serve, and when the sound of the whistle blew, the ball went flying across the court.  

One of the second-year players barely managed to receive it, and it went flying back over the net, where Yuda bumped it for Oikawa to set. 

“Here it comes,” Oikawa said, sending the ball to the far side of the court. 

Takahiro had already been running towards the net, and he jumped as the ball came his way, not quite making it as high as he used to go. But it was enough to get the job done. His form was good, and his palm made a satisfying thwack when it came in contact with the ball, which brushed right past Shido’s shoulder on the other side of the court. 

It was in, and that point won the game for them. Everyone on Issei’s team started hollering and smacking each other on the back.

There were also loud cheers from the third-years and nods of approval from their coaches.  

“I can’t wait to see what Makki can do once he regains more of his strength,” Oikawa remarked, wiping his forehead on the back of his wrist. He was talking to Issei, who was standing right beside him. “Considering that he hasn’t played in over two months, he did really well today. I’m impressed.” 

“The last few days of practice have helped him get back into the swing of things,” Issei said, putting his hands on his hips. He was watching Takahiro talk to Iwaizumi and Yuda, both of whom looked like they were praising him for scoring the last point. 

Even the second-year libero who played for them gave Takahiro an enthusiastic high five before going over to tease his friends on the other side of the net. 

“I think Coach Irihata is about to call us over,” Oikawa speculated, beginning to walk towards the bench. And he was right.

A moment later, Coach Irihata called those who had just played in for a huddle.

At the same time, Coach Mizoguchi divided the third-years into four teams, getting two of those teams ready to start a match. There were always multiple practice games on Friday nights, giving everyone on the team a chance to play.

But they didn’t usually keep it separated by which grade the members were in. This instance had been an exception, because the coaches wanted to see how the younger members played without the third-years.

Issei clapped Takahiro’s shoulder and walked over to the huddle with him, listening to what Coach Irihata had to say, which turned out to be an evaluation of their performances during the game. One by one, each player was addressed and given a list of things to work on. 

Those who had played on Issei’s team were also congratulated on their win. 

Then they were told to sit down and observe the game going on between the third-years, all of whom would be retiring from the team after the Interhigh Preliminaries at the end of the month—that is, if they didn’t make it. But even if they did, they would be leaving once the tournament was over.

So they were facing their last few weeks on the team.

After that, the starters would most likely be Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and five of the six second-years, one of whom was already a starter. Although, that lineup wouldn’t be finalized until the third-years had retired.  

As some of the third-years started their practice game, all of the first-years, second-years, and half of the third-years watched from the sidelines. They were sitting in rows on the floor.

“You did really good today,” Yuda whispered to Oikawa, who was right next to him. “I still can’t believe how easy it is to hit your sets.”

“Careful, don’t praise him too much,” Iwaizumi said from where he was sitting on Oikawa’s other side. “It might go to his head, and he’s already way too full of himself.”

As if he weren’t in the mood to be messed with, Oikawa let out an irritated huff. “You know, Iwa-chan, sometimes I think you don’t appreciate me at all.”

That frosty reaction made Iwaizumi frown a little bit. And after a few seconds, he spoke in a gruff voice. “I do appreciate you.”

“Do you?” Oikawa crossed his arms and looked away. “You’ve sure got a funny way of showing it.”

Upon hearing that, Iwaizumi scowled, almost like he was frustrated at himself. Then he cleared his throat. “Seriously, Oikawa, you’re the bes—”

A ball suddenly came flying towards Oikawa, and he managed to deflect it, though he accidentally elbowed Iwaizumi’s face in the process.  

“Oops! Sorry, Iwa-chan,” he said, giving an apologetic smile, though it quickly turned vindictive. “It’s just that you’re so short, I didn’t see you there.”

“Shut up, dumbass,” Iwaizumi snapped, punching Oikawa in the thigh. 

The sound of Oikawa squawking in pain echoed across the gym.

Sitting on the floor behind them, Issei and Takahiro calmly observed the chaos. But they were both suppressing their amusement over the way Iwaizumi always took one small step forward, followed almost immediately by two hurried steps back when it came to showing Oikawa some genuine, heartfelt affection. 

It was like Iwaizumi couldn’t be nice without tacking on a snide comment or becoming awkwardly aggressive. And when he acted like that, he seemed more like a six-year-old than a sixteen-year-old. He did actually have plenty of moments that made him seem wise. He was, after all, the oldest of the first-years.

But apparently, he wasn’t wise at all when it came to his own feelings.

And of course, Oikawa had more than his fair share of remarkably childish moments, despite how he was also capable of acting quite mature. He and Iwaizumi were similar in that way. And it was impossible to say whether that would have a positive or negative impact on any potential romance between them in the future.

It was even more impossible to say whether they would actually get together.

Over the past few days, Issei and Takahiro had been entertaining themselves by theorizing about if and when Iwaizumi was going to realize his own feelings. They also discussed whether or not Oikawa was ever going to catch on, and if he did, how he would react. 

But they were careful to avoid being overheard when they were discussing Iwaizumi’s crush. They had agreed to keep it a secret from everyone else—including Yuda, who wouldn’t be able to stop himself from giving it away with just his facial expressions. 

There was a bit more bickering between Iwaizumi and Oikawa, until Coach Mizoguchi finally silenced them with a harsh scolding. And then they all went back to focusing on the practice game that was being played right in front of them. 

The last set went on for a long time. 

When it was finally over, there was another game between two more third-year teams, including the players who were currently starters. 

Those watching were supposed to be paying close attention to the differences in how all the third-years played. The Interhigh Tournament was coming up fast, and this was one of their last chances to observe them in this setting. 

It was late by the time everyone began putting things away for the night, though the first-years were made to do the most tedious of the cleaning tasks. Still, each person on the team helped in one way or another, so it was a quick process thanks to how many of them there were. 

The sun had long since set when Issei and Takahiro left school together, heading for their neighborhood. 

“I gotta say, it felt awesome to be in a practice game after all this time,” Takahiro remarked, adjusting the strap of his sports bag as he walked. 

“It was fun playing with you again,” Issei said. “I really missed being on the court together.”

“Me too.” Takahiro tilted his head far enough over to pop his neck, and then he tilted it the other way, getting a few more pops. “Ugh, my body hurts. I didn’t miss this part of volleyball.”

“If you come to my place, I’ll rub your shoulders for you,” Issei offered. 

“That would be great,” Takahiro said as he repeatedly scrunched his shoulders up, rolling them afterwards. They were coming up on a convenience store, and he glanced at Issei with a grin. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, I’m starving,” Issei replied, following Takahiro, who was already hurrying towards the entrance of the small store. 

They went inside and purchased a few pork buns each, as well as some protein shakes and electrolyte drinks. Then they sat on the curb in front of the store. It was quiet as they ate their food together, aside from the sound of cars and cicadas in the distance. 

When they were done eating, they walked towards their neighborhood, discussing various highlights from practice along the way.

And before too long, they had made it to Issei’s house. 

“Mind if I shower?” Takahiro asked, stepping through the front door after Issei opened it for him. 

“Go for it,” Issei replied, slipping off his shoes in the entryway. “You can borrow some of my clothes.”

“Cool, thanks,” Takahiro said as he walked down the hallway towards Issei’s bedroom, which was at the very end.

Since he would have to wait for his turn in the shower, Issei dropped his sports bag off in his bedroom, briefly watching Takahiro dig through his dresser while he was there.

Then he headed to the kitchen for some water. 

His father was in there opening a bottle of wine, and that usually meant he was celebrating something good happening at work. He rarely drank outside of those occasions.

“Hey, I’m home,” Issei said. He walked past his father to get a clean cup and filled it with water from the sink.

“Was that Hanamaki-kun I heard a moment ago?” Mr. Matsukawa asked, his attention focused on pouring himself a glass of wine. He didn’t seem as cheerful as he usually did after something good happened at work. 

“Yeah. He’s probably gonna sleep over, if that’s alright,” Issei replied. Then he drank his water and put his cup down near the sink, turning to leave the kitchen.

But he stopped when his father spoke again.

“That’s fine. But from now on, your door needs to stay open when you have friends over,” Mr. Matsukawa said, taking a small sip of wine before looking at his son. “Is that understood?”

Issei was staring at his father with a blank expression, not having expected to be given a new rule all of a sudden. There weren’t many that he had to follow. Just a few basic unspoken things, like not staying out all night, being respectful to those around him, and spending his allowance in a way that would make it last. 

“Did you hear me?” Mr. Matsukawa asked, since Issei still hadn’t acknowledged him.

“Yeah,” Issei replied, snapping out of his stupor. “I’ll keep my door open whenever I have company.”

“Thanks,” Mr. Matsukawa said, smiling at Issei like he meant it. “You’ve always been such a cooperative kid.” He took another drink of wine, and then he sighed. “I wish your sister was more like you.”

“She tries her best,” Issei mumbled as he glanced away. He didn’t feel comfortable bad-mouthing his sister just to make small talk with his father. 

“Does she?” Mr. Matsukawa took another drink of wine, downing half of it. Then he swirled the rest of it around in his glass. “Her ‘best’ could stand to be a little better, don’t you think? Well, a lot better, actually. She threw a huge tantrum when I reminded her to take out the trash. It was enough to give me a headache.”

“Sorry you’ve got a headache,” Issei said, putting his hands in the pockets of his tracksuit. “Is Mom not home yet?”

“She and Misumi went off somewhere for their girl’s night thing,” Mr. Matsukawa replied, finishing his wine off afterwards. He immediately poured himself another glass. “She didn’t make dinner before she left, and it was a long day at the office for me. So you’ll have to fend for yourself if you’re hungry.”

Thanks to the food from the convenience store, Issei wasn’t hungry at all. “Did the twins already eat?” 

“Yeah, I think they did,” Mr. Matsukawa replied, taking his second glass of wine with him as he walked out of the kitchen. “Make sure you do your homework.”

“I will,” Issei said, watching his father disappear around the corner. 

After briefly thinking it over, he decided to whip up a simple meal, just in case Asami and Kazuki hadn’t had anything substantial. He knew they would both live off chips and buttered noodles if they could. So he wanted to make them something with protein, and he decided on a cheese omelet, since that came together quickly and didn’t require a whole lot of effort. 

He was done cooking in less than ten minutes, and he divided the large omelet onto two plates, carrying them with him down the hallway. 

Then he stopped at Asami’s door, which was closed, and tapped on it with his elbow. “Ah-chan? I’ve got something for you.”

A few seconds later, the door opened, but it was Kazuki standing there. He stepped aside to let Issei come into the room. 

“Here, I thought you guys might be hungry,” Issei said, handing one of the plates to his little brother. “Have you eaten dinner?”

Kazuki shook his head and took the plate over to Asami’s desk, eating once he was seated. 

Issei glanced around the room, finally noticing the state it was in. There was torn up paper all over the floor. By the looks of it, someone had pulled pages out of several old notebooks, shredding them as they went.

“What happened in here?” Issei asked, looking back at Kazuki, since he couldn’t see Asami anywhere.

“Ah-chan was mad,” Kazuki replied plainly. He didn’t elaborate on that.

With the other plate still in his hand, Issei searched for Asami, checking the spot between the dresser and the wall first. 

She wasn’t there. 

Then he checked under the bed, but she wasn’t there either. 

He didn’t find her until he cracked open the closet door, finding her all huddled up in the back corner, partially buried under some discarded clothes. 

That seemed to be her preferred spot for hiding when she was upset these days. 

“Hey,” Issei said, balancing the plate in one hand as he opened the closet door all the way. “Want an omelet?”

After a moment of hesitation, Asami nodded, wiping her face on the inside of her shirt before crawling out of the closet. Then she went to sit on her bed.

Issei handed the plate to Asami as he sat beside her. 

“Thanks,” she mumbled, crossing her legs and using her lap as a table. She started eating without saying anything else. And it seemed like she had been really hungry, because she scarfed down the omelet in less than a minute.

When the food was gone, Issei gestured to the paper covering the floor. “What’s all this?”

“My old notebooks from last year,” Asami replied, seeming embarrassed, though her brow also furrowed with frustration. 

“Why are they all torn up and thrown around?” Issei asked as he studied her face.

“Dad yelled at me,” Asami muttered, staring down at her empty plate. “It made me so mad, I wanted to rip him up into a billion pieces.”

Issei hummed sympathetically. “He yelled at you out of nowhere?”

“Yeah, or, well . . . no, I guess he asked me . . . he told me to take the trash out but I was . . . I didn’t . . . I was reading and I didn’t hear him,” Asami explained, speaking fast in between pausing to sort her thoughts. Discussing it was making her angry. “So he started yelling like he was really mad at me . . . saying I never listen to him. That was . . . that made me cry, and when I stopped I went to . . . I was gonna take out the trash but he said ‘don’t bother’ in a mean voice. He already did it himself. Then he said I’m not . . . I’m not . . . he said I’m not responsible and now I don’t get any . . . I don’t get an allowance anymore.”

“That really sucks,” Issei said, keeping his voice neutral, though he was irritated on his sister’s behalf. 

Sometimes it took a little extra effort to get Asami’s attention, especially when she was engrossed in what she was doing. And that was something Mr. Matsukawa seemed to despise. 

But to Issei, it didn’t seem like a good reason to yell at someone.

“That wasn’t . . . taking out the trash wasn’t the only thing he was mad about,” Asami admitted, still staring down at her plate, which she was gripping tightly. “I forgot to wash the dishes after I made noodles earlier, and he said I’m a lazy brat for not doing it right away. That made me cry. I was gonna do it, I just got distracted.” 

“I’ll wash those for you,” Issei offered, since he still needed to clean the dishes he had used while making omelets. 

All of a sudden, Takahiro appeared in the doorway, wearing some of Issei’s pajamas. “Hey, I was looking for you.”

“Sorry,” Issei said, standing up. “I got busy with other stuff.”

“Wow, Ah-chan, I love what you’ve done with the place,” Takahiro said, noticing all the paper on the floor as he walked into the room. “Very unique choice of decor.”

Hearing that made Asami cheer up quite a bit. “It’s like snow, isn’t it?”

Kazuki had been quietly sitting at the desk, but he got up and hugged Takahiro, greeting him with silent enthusiasm. 

“Hey, kid,” Takahiro said, smiling as he hugged Kazuki, doing so until the embrace was no longer wanted. Then he glanced at Issei and nodded towards the hallway. “You gonna run through the shower?”

“Yeah, in a minute,” Issei replied, looking down at Asami’s empty plate. “Did you want any more food?”

Asami patted her stomach. “No, I couldn’t eat another bite.”

“What about you?” Issei looked at Kazuki, who was standing at Takahiro’s side. “Are you still hungry?”

Kazuki shook his head. 

“Alright,” Issei said. “Have you guys done your homework yet?”

“We’ve just got some math left,” Asami replied, making a face. “It’s really hard, and Kazu doesn’t understand it either.”

“You’re in luck,” Takahiro said, using his feet to clear away some of the ripped up paper that was on the floor. Then he sat down, stretching his legs out in front of himself. “I’m great at math . . . erm . . . well, I’m not terrible at it. Not when it comes to the stuff at your grade level. So while your big brother goes to take a shower, I’ll help you finish it.”

“Really?!” Asami grinned and sat up taller on her bed. “Thank you!”

“No problem,” Takahiro replied, nudging his foot against Issei’s ankle. “Let’s see if we can finish it before the big, scary ogre gets back.”

That playful challenge was enough to get Asami and Kazuki moving at a hurried pace. They both scrambled to grab their homework, which was spread out all over the desk, as if they had been working on it together earlier. 

Takahiro winked at Issei as the twins sat on the floor beside him, and then he focused his attention on helping them with their homework. 

After taking a moment to watch them get started, Issei picked up the empty plates and left the room, carrying them all the way to the kitchen, where the sink was full of pots, pans, cutting boards, and everything else that had been used over the course of the day.

He decided to get the dishes done before taking a shower. 

When he was done in the kitchen, he went back down the hallway, glancing into Asami’s bedroom as he passed it.

The math homework seemed to be going well. Takahiro was in the middle of explaining a problem, doing so in a way that was entertaining enough to hold the twins’ attention. 

At this rate, they would probably be done before Issei was finished in the bathroom, especially if he soaked in the bath after taking a shower. 

But as it turned out, the hot water had been used up by the shower Takahiro had taken and the dishes Issei had washed. Only lukewarm water was left. That meant a bath was out of the question, and Issei was forced to take a shower that was disappointingly short.

Less than ten minutes later, he was on his way back to Asami’s bedroom. 

“Hey, how’s the math going?” he asked, lingering in the doorway.

“It’s all done,” Asami replied as she watched Takahiro fold a piece of torn paper into a tiny airplane. 

“See if this one goes farther,” Takahiro said, handing the paper airplane to Kazuki, who then tried to throw it across the room. 

It did a nosedive and crashed before getting very far. 

“Ah. Well, I guess I’m not great at making those.” Takahiro stared at his failed creation. “But in my defense, it’s harder when the paper is in weird little shapes.”

“I think I’m getting the hang of it,” Asami said, picking up a piece of torn paper, which she started to fold. Then she suddenly yelped and dropped the half-folded paper, looking down at her finger. 

Kazuki was also looking at it, and so were the other two boys. 

There was a tiny paper cut on Asami’s pointer finger. 

“Ow, it really hurts,” she cried, dramatically waving her hand around. 

“Don’t worry, I know what’ll help,” Takahiro said, getting up and hurrying out of the room. 

When he came back, he had a small box of Pokémon bandages, and he took one out with a flourish. Then he sat on the floor across from Asami, slowly unwrapping the bandage as he spoke in a dramatic voice.

“Who’s . . . that . . . Pokémon?!”

The twins watched in suspense as Takahiro finished unwrapping the bandage, and they both identified it at the same time.

“Bulbasaur!”

“That’s a good one,” Asami added in a cheerful voice, letting Takahiro wrap the bandage around her finger. 

“Does it still hurt?” Kazuki asked as he scooted closer.

“No, it’s all better,” Asami replied. She held up her bandaged finger, letting Kazuki get a better look at it. 

“Good thing Bulbasaur was around to help,” Issei joked, holding a hand down towards Takahiro, since he was still sitting on the floor. “Want that shoulder rub now?”

“I thought you forgot about it,” Takahiro replied, taking Issei’s hand and using it to pull himself up. “But yeah, I’m dying for one. Literally. The right side of my neck is trying to kill me.”

“We can’t have that,” Issei said, cracking a grin. Then he glanced at his siblings. “There’s no hot water left, so wait a while if you still need to shower. And make sure you clean up in here.”

“Kazu showered when we got home from school,” Asami remarked as she and Kazuki started gathering the little folded airplanes and paper shreds, putting them all in the trash. “And I took my bath after we had noodles.”

“Good,” Issei said, turning and walking out the door, with Takahiro right behind him. “Don’t stay up too late.” 

“We won’t,” the twins replied at exactly the same time, which was always a bit eerie. 

Issei led the way to his bedroom, but when Takahiro went to shut the door, he stopped him. “My dad told me I can’t have the door closed when I’ve got friends over.”

“Why?” Takahiro asked, raising an eyebrow as he left the door slightly ajar. “Does he think we’re doing drugs in here?”

“I dunno,” Issei replied as he pulled the chair out from under his desk, turning it to face Takahiro before sitting in it. “I think he just likes feeling like he’s in charge.”

“Yeah, well, pointless rules are annoying,” Takahiro said, dropping to the floor in front of Issei’s legs, which put him in the best position for a shoulder massage.

“I agree. But with stuff like this, it’s best to just go along with it.” Issei pressed his fingertips to the right side of Takahiro’s neck. “Is this where it hurts?”

“A little lower,” Takahiro replied, flinching when Issei moved his fingers down to the base of his neck. “Yep, that’s the spot. Don’t press too hard.”

Issei gently kneaded his thumbs along that part of Takahiro’s neck, working on it for a few minutes. He could feel how tense those muscles were.

Then he moved on to rubbing Takahiro’s shoulders. Whenever he hit an especially tender spot, Takahiro would flinch, hum, or let out a sound that was kind of like a whimper. 

He used those reactions to gauge where he should focus his efforts, and for how long. 

Once his hands got tired, which was about thirty minutes later, he stopped rubbing Takahiro’s shoulders, running his fingers through his hair instead.

“I think that’s all I’ve got in me.”

“Mmm, it makes me sleepy when you do that,” Takahiro murmured, scooting down a bit and leaning against Issei’s knees. “Oh, and thanks for the shoulder rub. It helped a lot.”

“You’re welcome,” Issei replied, still running his fingers through Takahiro’s hair, which was starting to get somewhat shaggy again. And by playing with it, he was making it look rather disheveled. “Are you ready for bed?”

“I could probably pass out right here, right now,” Takahiro replied, tilting his head back until it was on Issei’s lap. He grinned at him, blinking slowly.

Then he took a deep breath and forced himself to stand, stretching his arms over his head as he walked towards the bedroom door. “I’m gonna take a leak and brush my teeth.”

“Alright,” Issei said, pulling his notebook out of his bag and checking if he had any homework left to do. He always tried to get through all of it during the study period at school, but sometimes there was too much.

Thankfully, he didn’t have anything that needed to be done that night, so he put his notebook away. Then he got up and pushed the chair under his desk, lying down in bed afterwards. 

A few minutes later, Takahiro came back into the room, making a show of sassily leaving the door open just a crack. And then he crawled into bed, pulling the thinnest of Issei’s blankets up to his chin. It was too warm for any extra layers. 

“Man, that practice game seriously wore me out,” Takahiro remarked as he got comfortable. “I’m gonna sleep so good tonight.”

“Me too,” Issei said, letting out a yawn. “Will you get the lights?”

“Yep.” Takahiro reached for the lamp that was on the nightstand, turning it off. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” Issei said, closing his eyes and letting his body relax, with his and Takahiro’s arms lightly pressing against each other. 

Then he quickly fell asleep, not wasting any time worrying about things he couldn’t control. 

Even though his life wasn’t perfect, everything felt like it was going relatively well as of late. And his troubles always seemed much farther away whenever his best friend was with him.

Chapter Text

On the first day of summer break, Issei and the other first-years went to the river Shido mentioned to them the previous month. 

The spot he brought them to wasn’t actually so much a river as it was a little creek with a swimming hole. There were two different points where water came and went, but the water in the large basin was clear and mostly unmoving. The bottom was visible, and so were the tiny fish and tadpoles that were living in it. The outer edges were anywhere from ankle-deep to waist-deep, and then there was the center, which gradually went farther and farther down. 

Surrounding the swimming hole, there were lots of trees and bushes, which provided much needed shade on that hot July day. 

After leaving their bags on some large, flat rocks, they all stripped down to their swimwear. The boys were in swim trunks of various colors, and Suzuki was wearing a light blue one-piece swimsuit.

Shido was the first to go wading into the water, followed by Iwaizumi, Yuda, Suzuki, Oikawa, and Sawauchi, all of whom looked like they were completely at ease and thankful to be out of the heat. 

But once they made it to a deeper spot, Suzuki had to cling to Yuda’s back. She wasn’t tall enough to stand with her head above the surface. 

Yuda didn’t seem to mind—in fact, he looked rather happy about wearing her like a backpack as he chatted with his teammates. 

Meanwhile, Issei was standing near the rocks their stuff was sitting on, crossing his arms as he watched his friends enjoy being in the water. His swim trunks were dark green with white stripes on the side, and Takahiro’s were the same color, but with stripes all over. They bought them together recently, since they had outgrown their old swim trunks. 

Both of them had gone through a growth spurt in the last month, leaving Issei almost as tall as his father, and a little bit taller than his best friend. 

Takahiro liked to joke that Issei was only taller than him because being anemic for so long had given him an unfair disadvantage, and he was sure he would be the taller one soon now that he could eat properly again. He had already regained all of his lost weight. 

After standing beside Issei and the flat rocks for a few minutes, Takahiro nudged him. “Let’s go. The water probably feels great.”

“I think I’ll watch from here,” Issei said. He was still staring at the swimming hole with his arms crossed. “Might be nice to get a little sun.”

“The water isn’t gonna bite you,” Takahiro teased, scanning the surface. “Besides, I don’t see any currents. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You could—”

“Don’t answer that,” Takahiro interjected, pinching Issei’s lips closed. “Won’t do any good thinking of worst-case scenarios.”

“Go ahead and swim with everyone else,” Issei said once his lips were released, crossing his arms a little tighter. There was a gurgly, anxious feeling in his stomach. “I’ll be fine over here by myself.”

“Nah, I’ll wait with you until you’re ready,” Takahiro decided. “But you know, there’s really nothing to worry about. It’s just like the pool from elementary school, or the one at the rec center we always go to. It’s nothing but nice, calm, refreshing water.”

“Except there’s no life guards here,” Issei pointed out, glancing at Takahiro with a flat expression. 

“Now, hang on, you’re looking at the guy who saved your sister from drowning.” Takahiro grinned and put his hands on his hips. “I’m practically a lifeguard.”

Issei hummed, not feeling convinced. “You don’t know CPR.”

“Sure I do,” Takahiro insisted, squatting down and pretending he was pushing on someone’s chest. “You just press-press-press, and then blow in the person’s mouth. No biggie.”

“Hey,” Yuda called out, waving to Takahiro and Issei, who were about thirty or so paces away from the swimming hole. “You guys getting in?”

“Yeah, we’ll be there in a minute,” Takahiro replied, standing up straight again. He seemed eager to join his friends.  

However, Issei’s body stiffened as he continued to study the surface of the water, which was rippling from being splashed in. This would be the first time he stepped foot in a body of water that wasn’t regulated and watched over by a lifeguard since the River Incident from several years earlier, and he couldn’t help feeling nervous about it. 

He still loved swimming—but only in man-made pools that were properly supervised. 

“Come on,” Takahiro said, getting behind Issei and pushing him towards the water. “You can stay in the shallow part.”

“It looks cold,” Issei noted, not really resisting at first.

But they were getting closer, and closer, and closer. His muscles got tenser with each step, and then he stopped letting Takahiro move him forward. He was almost close enough to the water for his feet to get wet.

“Y’know, I don’t really feel like swimming.”

“It’s gonna be fine,” Takahiro promised as he slipped past Issei and walked into the water, turning around once it was up to his thighs. His swim trunks had ballooned up in an amusing way. “Come on, dude. It’s the perfect temperature.”

While standing firmly in place, Issei stared at Takahiro, who was much whiter than most of the other people there. But he wasn’t pale in a sickly way anymore. He just took after his mother when it came to skin tone, whereas Issei was naturally tan like his parents and siblings. 

“Hey,” Oikawa said, paddling over to them from the very center of the swimming hole, until he was able to stand next to Takahiro and throw an arm around his shoulders. Then he studied Issei with the calculating expression he so often wore. “What’s with the hesitation, Mattsun? Do you not know how to swim? Or are you afraid of water?”

“I’m not afraid of water,” Issei said, since it was mostly true. “And I’m a great swimmer.”

“Then why aren’t you getting in?” Oikawa asked, watching Issei closely as he waited for an answer. He still had an arm around Takahiro’s shoulders, and behind them, Iwaizumi was looking somewhat grumpy, like he always did whenever Oikawa was affectionate towards people.

“He’s just strategizing,” Takahiro said, his gaze shifting from Issei to Oikawa, who turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “We’re gonna challenge you and Iwaizumi to a game of chicken, so he’s looking around for the best spot.”

Oikawa’s eyes lit up with a competitive fire, and he grinned confidently as he backed away, motioning at Iwaizumi to come closer. “Me and Iwa-chan never lose that game. Are you sure you’re up for the challenge, Makki?”

Takahiro scoffed and put one hand on his hip. “Me and Issei haven’t ever lost, either. We’re basically chicken champions.” He looked over towards Issei again, winking at him. “We can’t let them win, can we, Issei?”

There was no backing out of it now. 

When it came to games, Issei could be incredibly competitive, and chicken did happen to be a game he and Takahiro were really good at playing. So he was going to have to take the plunge. And that’s just what he did—metaphorically speaking. 

In actuality, he took one small step forward, followed by another, and another, slowly moving through the water to stand beside his best friend. 

“Bravo,” Takahiro whispered, wrapping an arm around Issei’s waist as he leaned in close to avoid being overheard. “I knew you could do it.”

Issei grinned slightly, putting an arm over Takahiro’s shoulders so that they were locked in a sideways hug. He needed the extra comfort. 

“Hurry up, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa turned and took a few strides towards the middle of the swimming hole, where the others were in water up to their necks. “We’re playing chicken against Makki and Mattsun.”

Having ignored Oikawa’s earlier attempt to beckon him over, Iwaizumi started swimming towards the edge of the water, followed by Yuda and the others. 

Once he was close enough, Iwaizumi spoke to Takahiro and Issei with a confident smirk. “Me and Oikawa never lose that game.”

“Neither do we,” Issei said, feeling more composed than he had a few minutes earlier.

The excitement of a competition was enough to distract him from his lingering concerns about swimming in a natural body of water, and since there were no currents in sight, there really wasn’t a reason to think anyone would be swept away. 

“It’s gonna be a good fight,” Yuda said as he looked back and forth between the two teams. He still had Suzuki clinging to his back. They were both smiling, and Suzuki was resting her chin on Yuda’s shoulder as he held her up.

“We should go a little further out,” Iwaizumi suggested, since the water there only reached their thighs. He led the way to where it went up to the middle of their waists, and then he got behind Oikawa, pressing on the top of his head. “Squat down.”

Oikawa held his nose and ducked under the water, letting Iwaizumi get onto his shoulders. Once he was in place, Oikawa stood up again, holding Iwaizumi’s legs with both hands. 

“Let’s do this,” Takahiro said, tapping Issei’s arm. 

Issei plugged his nose and crouched down under the surface, which surrounded him with cold water as he let Takahiro get in position on his shoulders. Then he stood up and held him steady. 

Takahiro tucked his ankles under Issei’s arms, making it so he didn’t have to hold onto Issei’s forehead to keep his balance. 

It had been at least a year since they had the opportunity to play chicken, with the last time being against some random guys they met at the community pool. But they had won back then, and Issei had full confidence that they would win again.

“Alright, guys. On the count of three,” Yuda said, holding a hand up between the two teams. Sawauchi and Shido were standing at his sides, and Suzuki was peeking out from behind him, clinging to him like a koala. “One . . . two . . . three!”

Just like that, Takahiro and Iwaizumi were pushing against each other’s hands, while Oikawa and Issei did their best to be steady foundations. 

The ground below their feet was slick with mud, which made it difficult to avoid slipping. But nevertheless, Issei didn’t let himself lose his footing, and Oikawa was being equally stubborn.  

It all came down to Takahiro and Iwaizumi, who were shoving, yanking, jabbing, punching, and prodding each other, doing whatever they could to knock the other one down. 

Yuda, Suzuki, Shido, and Sawauchi were watching the competition with varying degrees of amusement, being sure not to get in the way. The water surrounding their friends was getting cloudy from the slippery mud getting stirred around in big clouds below the surface. And all the little fish had swam away, hiding themselves from the commotion. 

“Get ‘em, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa shouted, digging his fingers into Iwaizumi’s thighs to keep him steady. 

“Give me a running start,” Iwaizumi said, managing to push Takahiro away just enough to escape his reach. 

Doing as he was told, Oikawa took a few steps back and charged forward, gaining some momentum. He rushed at Takahiro and Issei as fast as he could.

But then something unfortunate happened. 

Oikawa slipped and fell forward, which sent Iwaizumi’s forehead hurtling towards Takahiro’s face, slamming against it. And then all four of them went toppling over.

“Shit,” Oikawa said, his face crashing against Issei’s stomach as he unintentionally brought him down below the surface.

There was chaos and confusion as they tried to untangle themselves underwater. Iwaizumi had fallen right on top of Takahiro, with Issei’s head getting caught between them, and Oikawa’s body had somehow gotten pinned between Issei’s legs. 

Shido hurried over to help pull everyone apart, and Sawauchi stood frozen in place, staring in nervous disbelief. 

Yuda also went to help. Even with Suzuki on his back, his movements were quick and nimble. 

When he was freed from the tangle of limbs and bodies, Issei broke the surface and gasped for air, wiping his face off. Then he looked around for Takahiro, who was still underwater. So he grabbed his arm and pulled him up. 

Once he was above the surface, Takahiro opened his mouth wide to catch his breath.

Then he looked at Issei, who immediately reached over to pinch his nose, which was bleeding profusely. Because of that, he sounded funny when he spoke.

“How bad is it?”

“Well, it doesn’t look that bad,” Issei replied, staring at Takahiro’s reddened nose as he kept it pinched between his fingers. “Does it hurt?”

“Smarts like a bitch,” Takahiro replied, his voice nasally. “But I’ll be fine.”

Iwaizumi came over to them after escaping the water and regaining his composure. “Sorry about that. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m good.” Takahiro gave two thumbs-up. “No worries.”

“Wow, look at all that blood,” Oikawa said, wading closer as he ran his fingers through his hair, removing the excess water. “It’s all over your mouth and chin.”

There was a sudden splashing sound, and everyone turned towards the source, seeing Sawauchi bob back up to the surface after having apparently passed out. 

“Oh my god,” Shido said, reaching for Sawauchi and lifting him up, keeping his head out of the water. “What’s wrong with him?”

“I think he fainted,” Yuda said, going over to help hold Sawauchi up. 

“He probably can’t handle the sight of blood,” Suzuki added as she finally got down from Yuda’s back, though the water immediately went up to her shoulders, whereas it was at everyone else’s waist.

After that, Yuda and Shido worked together, towing Sawauchi to the shallows and dragging him out of the water. 

Quite suddenly, Takahiro started giggling, which sounded strange with his nose still clamped shut. He didn’t seem like he could stop. And then there was a gross gurgling sound, because he was choking on the blood running down the back of his throat. So he turned his head as far as he could while Issei was still holding his nose, spitting some blood out and giggling again afterwards.

“Shit,” Iwaizumi muttered as his brow furrowed. “Does he have a concussion?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” Oikawa remarked, examining the red mark on Iwaizumi’s forehead and comparing it to the red mark on Takahiro’s nose. “You hit him pretty hard.”

“You’re the one who made me fall on him,” Iwaizumi snapped. 

“It was an accident,” Oikawa retorted, crossing his arms. “I lost my balance.”

“Everyone be quiet for a second,” Issei ordered, his voice and expression mostly calm, though he was actually frantic with concern.

He stared at Takahiro, who was still giggling to himself, and diligently kept pinching his nose shut. Then he used his other hand to hold up four fingers.

“How many fingers do you see?”

In response, Takahiro held up four fingers, nearly choking on blood again. That finally stopped his laughter.

And then he waved his hand dismissively, calming himself down. “I’m fine. I just thought it’s funny how this situation turned out.”

“I don’t see what’s so funny about it,” Issei said dryly. He glanced down at Takahiro’s mouth, chin, and neck, where there was a trail of blood.

Then he splashed some water at him to wash it off. 

“You can let go of my nose now,” Takahiro said, pushing Issei’s hand away. But blood immediately started pouring out again. So he pinched it closed himself, briefly chuckling in an awkward sort of way. “Huh . . . guess it was still necessary.”

“I have tissues in my bag,” Suzuki said as she turned and quickly swam towards shore, where Shido and Yuda were sitting beside Sawauchi, who had just regained consciousness.

Iwaizumi and Oikawa followed Suzuki, but Issei and Takahiro stayed where they were. 

Once the others were out of earshot, Issei let out a long, wary sigh and washed his hands in the water to rid them of Takahiro’s blood. But even after they were clean, he could still faintly smell the iron on his skin.  

“What a wild turn of events,” Takahiro remarked in his incredibly nasally voice.

He was standing with one hand plugging his nose, which had begun to bruise, spreading out in both directions. It looked like a big, translucent butterfly was casting a purple shadow on the middle of his face.  

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you out of the way,” Issei murmured, reaching out and lightly tracing his finger along the bridge of Takahiro’s nose, checking for anything that felt oddly lumpy. 

“Wasn’t your fault,” Takahiro replied, closing his eyes as Issei touched him. Then he grimaced and grabbed Issei’s hand, gently pushing it away from his face. “That kinda hurts.”

“Sorry,” Issei said, dropping his hand. “You’re getting a bruise.” 

“It probably looks way worse than it actually is,” Takahiro said in a reassuring tone. Then he headed towards the shore of the swimming hole, moving slowly, like he wasn’t in a hurry. 

“I feel bad that you got hurt,” Issei said as he followed Takahiro, catching up so that he could wade through the water beside him and hold onto his arm. “Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Takahiro said with a grin, which showed off a bit of blood that was staining his teeth. “Just gotta wait for my face faucet to turn off.”

Issei hummed. “Maybe we should go home so you can rest.”

“I don’t wanna leave yet,” Takahiro said, sounding stubborn. “We just got here, and we haven’t even had lunch yet. Think of all that food we packed.”

“We could eat it at home,” Issei countered. 

“It’ll taste better if we swim around for a few hours,” Takahiro insisted as they stepped out of the water. “Trust me, Issei, I’m fine. We don’t need to leave.”

Not far from them, Suzuki was crouched down at the rocky area, digging around in her bag, which wasn’t as well stocked as she had been expecting it to be.

“Oh, shoot. I can’t believe I don’t have any tissues.” 

“I’ve got an extra pair of socks,” Iwaizumi said, turning to look at Takahiro, who was still pinching his nose shut. “Want me to rip one up for you?”

“Sure,” Takahiro replied as he and Issei walked over to where Iwaizumi and Suzuki were each holding the bag they had brought.

After fishing out his extra socks, Iwaizumi tore one of them into strips, handing some of them to Takahiro with an apologetic expression. “Is it still bleeding?”

Takahiro let go of his nose, which started gushing blood again. So he quickly shoved a small strip of fabric into each nostril. “Seems like it’s not ready to stop yet.”

“I’m gonna call your dad,” Issei said, going over to where he had left his stuff.

He dug his phone out of his bag and found Mr. Hanamaki’s number in his contacts, hitting the call button. Then he brought the phone to his ear as he turned around and watched everyone crowd around his best friend. 

They all wanted to get a look at his nose, except for Sawauchi, who stayed further away than the others, lest he catch sight of blood again.

“Hey, kiddo,” Mr. Hanamaki said, answering the phone on the third ring. “What’s up?”

“Sorry to bother you while you’re working,” Issei said, knowing that Mr. Hanamaki was sure to be at the clinic. “We’ve had a little incident.”

“It’s no problem,” Mr. Hanamaki assured, his voice calm and pleasant. “What’s going on?”

“We’re swimming with some friends and Takahiro got headbutted on accident. His nose is bleeding a lot,” Issei explained as he twisted the drawstrings on his swim trunks. “Should we be worried?”

“Does his nose look crooked?” Mr. Hanamaki asked. “Also, check for any open wounds.”

Issei walked over to his friends and reached for Takahiro’s chin, tilting his face so that he could get a good look at him. “It’s not crooked, and I don’t see any cuts or bumps. There’s some bruising already, though. And I think it’s getting swollen.”

Mr. Hanamaki didn’t sound like he was alarmed. “How long has it been bleeding? And is he applying pressure?”

“It’s been a few minutes,” Issei replied. “We were pinching it closed at first, but now he’s got it plugged up with pieces of our friend’s sock.”

“Tell him to keep pinching it closed by pressing against the central wall from the outside. Do that for ten minutes,” Mr. Hanamaki advised. “If it’s still bleeding after that, try moving the point of pressure and see if that does the trick. I’ll want you boys to come see me if that doesn’t work.”

“Alright,” Issei said. “Thanks for your help.”

“Any time,” Mr. Hanamaki replied. “Call me if you end up needing to come this way.”

“Will do. Bye,” Issei said, closing his flip phone. Then he pinched Takahiro’s nose between his fingers. “You’re dad said we have to keep pressure on it.”

“Great,” Takahiro said, his voice sounding more nasally than ever as he pointed at a nearby rock. “Let’s go sit down.”

Issei nodded and walked with Takahiro, heading for a wide rock that was near their clothes and bags. It was in direct sunlight. They sat on it together, and Issei kept holding onto Takahiro’s nose the whole time. 

“Is there anything we can do?” Yuda asked, walking over to where they were sitting. 

“Nah, you guys can get back to swimming,” Issei replied. He was feeling much calmer now that he had spoken with Mr. Hanamaki. “We’ll hang here until the bleeding stops.”

“Alright,” Yuda said. He turned towards the others, and since Sawauchi was feeling fine now that there wasn’t any blood in his sight, they all went back into the pool of water. 

“Does it still hurt?” Issei asked, glancing at Takahiro, who was closing his eyes again. 

“It’s not too bad,” Takahiro replied. Then he reached up, moving Issei’s hand so that he could pull the strips of fabric out, pinching his nose shut himself afterwards. 

“Keep holding it just like I was,” Issei said, checking his phone. “If it’s still bleeding in eight more minutes, your dad said we should pinch it off a little higher.”

Takahiro clicked his tongue. “Let me guess, we have to go to the clinic if it keeps bleeding after that.”

“Yep,” Issei replied, setting his phone down next to himself.

Since he was in just his swim trunks, the humid summer heat was tolerable, at least for the time being. It was still quite early in the day. But the sun was shining right on them, and Takahiro was prone to getting sunburns.

So he looked around for somewhere better to rest. 

There was a big tree not far from them, and below it was a lush patch of greenery. 

“We should go sit over there,” Issei suggested, grabbing his phone and getting to his feet.

“Kay,” Takahiro said, following Issei to the shady spot underneath the tree. They sat right beside each other and leaned against the trunk. “Hey, this is pretty comfy. I feel like I could nap here.”

“I don’t think you should,” Issei cautioned. “Not until your nose stops bleeding.”

Takahiro sighed. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” 

Silence fell over them as they waited for the time limit to be up, though the rhythmic chirping of cicadas could be heard as Issei casually studied their legs, which were stretched out side by side. His own thighs were thicker and stronger than they used to be, mostly thanks to all the muscle he had gained from volleyball practice. 

Takahiro was thinner than Issei as a result of dealing with that long period of illness throughout the last half of middle school. But practice had been making him stronger, and when compared to how he looked almost four months earlier, he had filled out quite a bit. He also seemed to have way more energy now. 

As far as Issei could tell, Takahiro had made a full recovery. It was good to see how well he was bouncing back. 

However, that’s not what Issei was thinking about as his gaze shifted towards the swimming hole. He was actually replaying their game of chicken in his mind. It seemed to him like it was a tie, so they would need a rematch to determine a winner, and that didn’t seem like a good idea when Takahiro was already hurt. 

He did hate losing though. 

“Hey,” Takahiro said, nudging Issei with his elbow. “What do you think my family would say if I told them some random guy punched me in the face?”

“Your dad already knows what happened, so he wouldn’t believe you. Your mom would talk to you about defending yourself from bullies. Eh-chan would probably say you did something to deserve it.” Issei reached over to flick at a beetle that had landed on Takahiro’s leg, watching it fly away afterwards. “Rei-chan would get upset and ask why someone was being mean to you.”

“Ah, that’s true. Wouldn’t wanna make her worry.” Takahiro unplugged his nose, waiting to see if it started bleeding again. It didn’t. “Look, I’m all better now.”

“Still feel like taking a nap?” Issei asked, glancing at Takahiro, who was gingerly scrunching and wiggling his nose. 

“Nah, let’s go swim with the others,” Takahiro replied, slowly standing up. Then he grabbed Issei’s hand and pulled him to his feet. “Being here today hasn’t been as bad as you thought it would be, has it?”

Issei stared at the bruising on Takahiro’s face, which had gotten darker in the past ten minutes, especially right under his eyes. “Technically, it’s way worse than I thought it would be.”

“Why, just ‘cause I got a little bump?” Takahiro playfully poked at his swollen nose, which caused him to flinch in pain. And then he acted like nothing happened. “It would take a lot more than this to ruin my day.”

“I literally thought to myself this morning, ‘well, it’s not like anyone’s gonna get hurt if we go out there,’ and boy was I wrong,” Issei deadpanned, falling into step with Takahiro as they headed for the swimming hole. 

“Think of it this way . . . if something bad already happened, you don’t have to worry about anything else going wrong,” Takahiro said, his voice confident. “My grandma used to say misfortune is kinder than we think. Once it strikes, it leaves you alone for a while.”

Issei felt a pang of nostalgia as he thought of Takahiro’s grandmother. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s not true.”

They had just made it to the swimming hole, so Takahiro waded in. “Remember when you broke your arm?”

“Of course,” Issei replied as he stepped into the water, appreciating the way it instantly cooled him down. The sun had gotten higher in the sky, and the temperature was continuing to rise.

“Well, my grandma told me her theory about misfortune after that happened. And just like she said, nothing went wrong for a long time,” Takahiro claimed, turning around so that he could float on his back and stare at Issei with a grin. “It’s like you soaked up all the bad luck by slipping on that patch of ice. So just now, my nose soaked up any bad luck we might’ve run into today.”

“That’s an interesting theory,” Issei said, sinking down in the water until it was up to his chin.

He had to admit to himself that because something dramatic had happened, the idea of just casually swimming around seemed much less scary. He would have expected the opposite. 

The sudden sound of a loud splash drew Issei’s attention.

Over in the deeper area of the swimming hole, Iwaizumi had just helped Yuda toss Suzuki up in the air, throwing her by letting her launch herself from their hands. She broke the surface a moment later, laughing as she paddled to keep herself afloat.  

And not far from them, Oikawa was trying to balance on Sawauchi and Shido’s shoulders, apparently wanting to jump off of them and dive into the center of the swimming pool. 

Suzuki swam over and put a hand on Yuda’s shoulder to keep herself from sinking below the surface. The water went all the way up to Yuda’s neck, which meant Suzuki’s feet were far from being able to reach the bottom. And the two of them were watching as Oikawa slowly stood up on the shoulders of his teammates. 

Meanwhile, Iwaizumi stared at Oikawa with his arms crossed, wearing an expression that was concerned and mildly irritated. 

“Look at that,” Issei said, nodding towards their friends. 

Takahiro flipped over so that he could stand up, turning to stare at Oikawa and the rest. “Bet he’s gonna belly flop.”

Not even five seconds later, Oikawa tried to launch into a dive from where he was standing on his friends’ shoulders, failing spectacularly. He did indeed do a belly flop. 

After that, he tried again, repeating his failure. It wasn’t until Iwaizumi came over to hold his ankles steady that he actually managed to dive with any measure of success. 

Everyone else wanted to try diving at that point, so they all took turns, and then they explored one of the little creeks that led away from the swimming hole. They found all kinds of fish and frogs along the banks. 

Around noon, they took a break from exploring and ate lunch, resting for a while in the shade afterwards. Then they got back in the water to escape the sweltering heat. 

They kept swimming until the sun started to set, and by that time, Issei wondered what he had even been so nervous about in the first place. Aside from Takahiro’s nose injury, hanging out at the creek had been really fun. He was glad that he forced himself to go. But more than that, he was thankful that Takahiro had given him the push he needed. 

Everyone was hungry when they left the swimming hole, so they stopped at Chindochu Chinese Ramen & Gyoza, eating as much as they could afford. Then they all headed home with full stomachs and tired feet.

As soon as Issei made it to his house, he ran through a shower, got into bed, and almost passed out immediately. But a knock on his bedroom door made him open his eyes before he was able to drift off. 

“Come in,” he called in a voice that was thick with exhaustion. 

Light from the hallway flooded into the room when Yuko opened the door, stepping inside and closing it behind herself. Then she came over and sat on the edge of Issei’s bed. “Sorry to wake you.”

“It’s fine. I wasn’t asleep yet,” Issei said, yawning and doing his best to keep his eyes open. It took all of his willpower to stay awake.

“There’s something I need to talk to you about,” Yuko said, folding her hands on her lap. There was just enough moonlight coming in from the window to see by, revealing her stiff, anxious posture. “I’ve been offered a new job.”

“Cool, that’s exciting,” Issei murmured sleepily. He hadn’t known his mother was even looking for a new job. 

“Thanks, sweetheart,” Yuko replied as she absentmindedly fiddled with her wedding ring, twisting it around her finger again and again. “The position pays less than what I’m making right now, but the hours are more consistent. I’d be done by about four o’clock each day.”

Issei couldn’t see his mother’s face very well. But there was a certain amount of tension in her voice, which he was quick to notice, leaving him with an anxious feeling in his stomach. 

“Are you gonna accept the job?” 

“I am. Well, I already did,” Yuko said. “But it’s in Tokyo, and they want me there at the beginning of next month.”

There was hardly a week and a half before the start of August, and a weight seemed to fall on Issei’s chest as he processed that information. He immediately thought of all the things he would miss if he were to move away, Takahiro being the most important, and volleyball being a close second. 

He didn’t know what to say. 

On the one hand, he wanted his mother to be happy with her job. But on the other hand, he didn’t want to be so far away from his best friend, and he didn’t want to go to a new school. 

He had also come to feel rather attached to his teammates. When it came down to it, he would prefer to continue playing with them. 

“Your dad isn’t willing to relocate,” Yuko continued, every word laced with reluctance. “I’m sure you’ve noticed that our relationship hasn’t been . . . going well lately. And after a long discussion, we’ve decided to live apart for a while to see if a break helps.” 

“Are you guys gonna get divorced?” Issei managed to ask, though his throat felt tight. 

“No, not if we can figure things out after some time apart,” Yuko replied. “For now, you can choose whether you want to come with me or stay here with your dad.”

Instead of giving Issei a sense of relief, that only made him even more uncertain. He was sure it would hurt his mother’s feelings if he chose to stay with his father. And if he chose to go with his mother, his father probably wouldn’t be very happy about it. Neither would Takahiro, for that matter. 

There was no way to get through this situation without disappointing someone he cared about. 

Yuko seemed to understand exactly where Issei’s mind had gone. “I know you’ve got people and things here that you care deeply about, and I want your choice to be based on what you feel most comfortable with. Don’t worry about me, or your father, or anyone else. Think about what’s important to you right now, and make your decision with that in mind.”

“You’re important to me,” Issei whispered, his heart aching. 

“I know that,” Yuko said in a gentle voice. “And I’d love to bring you to Tokyo with me, if that’s what you want. But I remember being your age . . . I wouldn’t have wanted to move away from my best friend. Misumi and I were inseparable. That’s why I moved here with her and Takuma when we were younger . . . I was their third wheel for a long time,” she said with a soft chuckle. “They didn’t mind, though, and neither did I.”

Issei smiled halfheartedly as he listened to his mother reminisce.

“When we first came to Miyagi, we shared this tiny little apartment on the far side of town. We hardly had any money between us. Takuma was trying to get his clinic established, and it took a while for me to find a job. Misumi was actually the first one to have a steady income. She worked at a coffee shop, just like she did back in Tokyo. That’s where she and Takuma met, you know.”

“Yeah, he told me about that,” Issei said. “How did . . . how did you and dad meet?”

“Our companies used to share a building,” Yuko replied, taking her wedding ring off and rubbing it between her fingers. “We met in the elevator. It was always so crowded, but he helped make sure I had enough space. He was very chivalrous back then. Chivalrous, and thoughtful, and driven. He had so much ambition. His plan was always to take over the company someday, and he’s well on his way to accomplishing that. No matter what he has to sacrifice.”

Issei could sense his mother’s bitterness, though it was buried underneath a layer of nonchalance and a carefully cultivated air of neutrality. He felt it would be wise to avoid delving any further into his parents’ past.

“What about Kazu and Ah-chan? Are they going with you?”

“Yes,” Yuko replied, putting her ring back on. “I believe a new environment would do them a lot of good.”

Issei tried to take a deep breath, but he couldn’t quite fill his lungs. “How do they feel about moving?” 

“I haven’t discussed it with them yet.” Yuko admitted, folding her hands on her lap. “I’ll tell them tomorrow.”

“How long have you known how things were gonna be?” Issei asked, looking at his mother in the darkness. He couldn’t tell what expression she was wearing.

“Not very long,” Yuko replied. “The offer came a few days ago, and the starting date is set. So there wasn’t a lot of time to figure things out. But I’ve spoken with my parents—they’re happy to house us. I’ll be sharing my old room with Ah-chan, and if you come, you and Kazu can share the office. We’ll turn it into a bedroom. Oh, and we won’t be bringing our furniture. Just clothes and personal items.”

“Can I think it over before I decide whether I wanna go with you or stay here?”

“Of course. But if you can, try to make a decision by this weekend,” Yuko replied. “That’s when we need to start packing.”

“Alright.” Issei reached towards his nightstand, turning the light on. All of his exhaustion was replaced by worry and wakefulness. 

“I’m sorry for springing this on you,” Yuko murmured as she ran her fingers through Issei’s hair, just like she always did.

Then she stood up and went to leave the room.

But she paused in the doorway, looking back at her son. Light from the hallway illuminated her face, and she was offering an encouraging smile, though there was a distinct sense of sadness hidden in her features.

“I love you very much, sweetheart. No matter what decision you make, that won’t change, okay?”

“Okay. I love you,” Issei said, watching his mother close the door, taking the bright light from the hallway with her. 

There was no way he could get to sleep now. He was facing a huge decision, and he needed to organize his thoughts.

So he went to sit at his desk and pulled out a piece of paper, making a pro-con list with four columns—two for staying and two for moving. 

The pros of staying were obvious: remaining close to Takahiro; getting to play volleyball with his Aoba Johsai teammates; not having to deal with the stress of moving; keeping Yuda and Suzuki in his life; still getting to be around Takahiro’s parents and little sister, all of whom were important to him. 

The cons of staying were few but significant: having to live alone with his father—which might not be that bad, all things considered—and not getting to see his mother or siblings on a regular basis.

The only pro he could think of for moving away was that he would get to be around his mother and siblings and grandparents as much as he wanted. 

And the cons of moving were the opposite of everything on his pros-of-staying list, with the addition of also upsetting his father, though he cared much more about upsetting his best friend. 

It seemed like the answer was obvious, but still, he felt like he needed to talk things over with someone. And he was hoping that Takahiro hadn’t gone to sleep yet. So he went back to bed and sent Takahiro a text, asking if he was awake enough for a serious (and likely upsetting) conversation.

His phone started ringing just a few seconds later. 

“What’s up?” Takahiro asked, sounding like he was as close to sleep as Issei had been just ten minutes earlier.

He also sounded like he had a very bad cold, but that was just from getting headbutted. His nose had swollen up quite a bit by the end of the day.

“I . . .” Issei wasn’t sure how to say, I might need to move away, but I can stay here if I want, and I don’t know what to do. It was easier to think than to speak at the moment. “I’m . . .”

“Are you okay?”

As everyone knows, those three words are often enough to bring about crying in someone who’s having a hard time, and Issei was certainly having a hard time. Tears pricked his eyes as he covered his mouth, trying to cry silently as he curled up on his bed. 

“Issei?” There was a pause. “Are you crying right now?”

Instead of replying, Issei sniffled and attempted to calm himself down enough to speak, though he wasn’t able to do so. 

“I’m coming over,” Takahiro said, his voice as determined as it was nasally. “Be there in a few minutes.”

The line cut out after that, so Issei closed his phone, setting it on his nightstand.

Then he covered his face with his hands and cried hard enough for his shoulders to shake. Part of him wanted to get his emotions out of the way before Takahiro arrived—though he was also just unable to hold back now that he had started letting it all out.

He felt like his whole life was caving in on him. 

There were two windows in Issei’s bedroom. One was next to his bed, the other was above his desk, and both of them were always unlocked. 

Issei was still crying when Takahiro knocked on the window above his desk. 

It opened a few seconds later, and Takahiro climbed onto the ledge, kicking his shoes off before he carefully stepped from the desk to the floor. He was wearing his pajamas, and he had been using the light from his phone to see where he was going. But he put it in his pocket once he was standing in the dimly lit room.

The butterfly-shaped bruise that went from Takahiro’s nose to under his eyes and across his cheeks had gotten darker, and his nose was puffy, as were his eyelids. He looked terrible.

But if he was in pain, he didn’t express it. His focus and concern was currently reserved for Issei alone. 

He came over to the bed, lifting the covers so that he could slide in behind Issei, who was curled up and facing the wall. He wrapped his arms around him from behind and held him as he cried, not saying anything for a long time. 

Having his best friend there with him helped Issei calm down, and when he finally stopped crying, he reached past Takahiro to grab a tissue from the box on his nightstand. He wiped his eyes and nose, throwing the used tissue towards the trash can beside his desk afterwards. 

“It’s been a while since I’ve seen you this upset,” Takahiro remarked, scooting up to lean his back against the headboard. He sounded even more congested in person. 

Issei sat up beside his best friend. His nose was stuffy from all of his crying, so he also sounded congested. “I don’t know what to do.”

“About what?” Takahiro asked, pressing the edge of his and Issei’s legs against each other. He also linked their arms together.

“Moving to Tokyo,” Issei replied. “My mom got a new job.”

“Wait . . .” Takahiro’s eyes widened, though they were too swollen to open all the way, and his words were filled with worry. “You’re moving away?”

“I’m not sure,” Issei replied, staring at his hands as he wrung them nervously. “My mom is moving, but I can stay here with my dad if I want to.”

There was a moment of heavy silence, and Takahiro’s tone was delicate when he finally spoke. “Are your parents getting divorced?”

“Not according to my mom,” Issei mumbled. “She said they just want space from each other for a while, or something like that.”

“Oh.” Takahiro’s hold on Issei’s arm tightened. “So you can stay here with your dad, or you can move to Tokyo with your mom . . . and you’re not sure what to do?”

“Yeah,” Issei confirmed, looking at Takahiro, who was a sorry sight with his nose all bruised and swollen, especially with the fear and uncertainty that was radiating from him.

Seeing that only made Issei more anxious.

“What should I do?”

“Well, I can tell you what I think you should do,” Takahiro replied softly, glancing away. “But I’ve got a biased opinion.”

Issei was still staring at Takahiro, hoping for some guidance and reassurance. “You want me to stay?” 

“Of course I do. Maybe it makes me selfish, but I want you here with me so I can see you every day.” Takahiro grinned, playfully adding, “I mean, if you’re not here, who’s gonna wake me up when I oversleep?” 

Without saying anything, Issei gave a weak chuckle.

And then Takahiro grew serious. “I’m just kidding, Issei. So don’t worry about me. Just ask yourself this—would you rather live with your dad or your mom?”

“I think . . . if I had to choose, I’d rather live with my mom,” Issei said, letting his words flow without trying to control them, since that was the best way to sort his thoughts. “But I’d rather not move to Tokyo. I don’t wanna go play volleyball for some other team, and I don’t wanna make new friends, or go to a new school. My whole life is here.”

“It’s gonna be a big change one way or another,” Takahiro said, scooting closer to Issei and keeping their arms securely linked. “It’s not an easy choice, is it?”

“It’s really not.” Issei frowned, feeling a knot form in his stomach. “I’ll miss my mom and the twins a lot if I stay here.”

“The twins are going with her?”

“Yeah,” Issei replied, trying to imagine what it would be like coming home to an empty house every day.

With how much his father worked, staying with him might as well mean living alone.

“Ah.” Takahiro began rambling. “Well, that’s probably for the best. No offense to your dad, but he doesn’t really . . . he’s not always nice to them, y’know? Seems like he’s mean to them more often than not. But he’s not really like that around you, is he? I mean, yeah, he can be a jerk sometimes, but he’d probably give you a lot of freedom, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, you’re right. I’d probably be able to do whatever I want if I stay here. It’s not like my dad spends a lot of time at home,” Issei said, silently reminding himself that his father was always nice to him, even if he did say some awful things about him behind his back—though he had pushed each and every memory of his parents’ arguments into the farthest corner of his mind so that he could pretend they never happened. 

“How long until moving day?” Takahiro asked, resting his head on Issei’s shoulder.

“I’m not exactly sure. But packing starts this weekend,” Issei replied. “And my mom’s job starts at the beginning of next month.” 

“Oh, that’s when we leave for training camp,” Takahiro pointed out, tightening his hold on Issei’s arm again, as if he were afraid to let go. “Assuming you’re still here.”

“I almost forgot about training camp,” Issei remarked. 

The volleyball club held its annual summer training camp at the beginning of August each year. He had really been looking forward to that, and if he moved away, he wouldn’t get to join in.

But at this point, he was starting to feel confident about where he wanted to live.

And it wasn’t Tokyo. 

“Oikawa said he’s got trust building exercises for us to do while we’re there,” Takahiro recalled. “Honestly, I’m kinda scared to find out what that means. Like, what, are we gonna have to stare into each other’s eyes and reveal our deepest, darkest secrets? Or is he just gonna make us all do trust falls?”

“Knowing him, it’ll be something interesting.” Issei cracked a slight grin. “He’s a little odd, but I’m getting used to him.”

“Me too,” Takahiro said. “It’s fun teasing him.” 

“If I don’t stick around, I won’t get to mess with him anymore. And I won’t get to see how long it takes him to notice that Iwaizumi’s got a crush on him.”

“At this rate, he might figure it out before Iwaizumi even admits it to himself,” Takahiro joked as he nuzzled against Issei’s shoulder, making himself more comfortable. 

“Well, I’ve definitely gotta be there to witness who figures it out first.” Issei leaned his cheek against the top of Takahiro’s head. “So I can’t just move away, can I?”

“You really can’t,” Takahiro agreed sagely. “Not only would you miss out on all that drama, but think of how much you’d miss me. I’m a blast to be around.”

“True,” Issei said. “I wouldn’t have nearly as much fun without you.”

“Laughter is good for your health, so I’d worry if you were too far away from me. You’d get all sickly and depressed and gloomy,” Takahiro teased. “And I think I’d get just as bad without you.”

“That settles it, then. I’m not moving away,” Issei decided in a playful voice, though he was completely serious.

He couldn’t picture his life without Takahiro, and the choice he needed to make had become crystal clear.

There was only one right answer.

“Really?” Takahiro lifted his head and looked at Issei with hesitant hopefulness, like he needed to confirm the good news before he could let his guard down all the way. “You’re gonna stay here?”

“Yep,” Issei replied, meeting Takahiro’s gaze. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Takahiro’s joyful relief was palpable. And after he flashed a bright smile, he turned off the lamp and scooted down, settling in under the blankets as he let out a yawn.

“That’s good to hear. I rely on you a lot, y’know. Some people might even say I rely on you a bit too much. But if you ask me, everyone needs someone they depend on more than anyone else. It’s basic human nature.”

“Makes sense to me,” Issei said as he stretched out beside Takahiro, making it so their legs and arms were touching. “I’m your emotional support human.”

“Yep. I know it’s a hard job,” Takahiro murmured, letting out another yawn. “But someone’s gotta do it.”

“It’s worth the effort,” Issei said with a wry grin. “Hey, how’s your nose feeling?”

“Still hurts like a bitch, and I can hardly breathe through it,” Takahiro replied. “It’s actually worse now than it was earlier.”

“Did your dad already look at it?”

“Yeah, and he’s gonna take me to get a CT scan tomorrow. He said I might’ve fractured my nose or bruised the bone or something like that.” Takahiro took a deep breath through his mouth, and then he sighed. “It’s probably gonna take a few weeks to fully heal. But I asked him about training camp, and he thinks I’ll be fine by then. So that’s good.”

“Yeah, it would suck to go without you,” Issei said. “How long are you gonna sound all stuffy and congested?”

“Until whenever the swelling goes down,” Takahiro guessed. “My voice sounds super weird right now, doesn’t it?” 

“Nah, it sounds great.”  

Takahiro clicked his tongue. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“No, seriously,” Issei insisted, holding back laughter. “Your voice has this . . . foggy quality to it now.”

“So I sound like a fog horn?”

Issei could easily picture Takahiro making a fog horn noise at people just for the hell of it, and the thought of that made him laugh. 

Before too long, Takahiro was also laughing, pausing now and then to bellow like a fog horn. 

They couldn’t stop cracking themselves up for several minutes, and by the time they finally calmed down, Issei felt his exhaustion coming back to him. 

So he yawned and made himself comfortable. “Goodnight, fog horn.”

Takahiro hummed in amusement. “Goodnight, emotional support human.”

Issei smiled and closed his eyes. “Sleep tight.”

“Don’t let the bedbugs bite,” Takahiro said, pinching Issei’s thigh. 

With a soft chuckle, Issei slapped Takahiro’s hand, resting their arms against each other again afterwards.

Then they both settled in, and Issei went to sleep feeling as good about his decision as was possible under the circumstances.

When the following weekend arrived, it was time for Yuko and the twins to start packing their things, and Takahiro’s family came over to help. 

After boxing up the books that had been on shelves in the living room, Misumi and Yuko went into the kitchen, and both of them had their long hair tied up into buns, keeping it out of their faces as they sorted through all the pots, pans, and various cooking supplies.  

It had already been decided that most of it would be left behind so Issei could still cook for himself easily. Only the things with sentimental value would be brought along to Tokyo, and they were taking their time going through everything.

On the surface, the two women were opposites in almost every measurable way. Misumi was tall, fat, outgoing, opinionated, and rather sassy. Yuko was short, thin, soft spoken, reserved, and sensitive. But they had a lot more in common than could ever be explained with words, and their apparent polarity only served to make their friendship stronger.  

They had known each other for almost forty years, having met when they first started school, and they had never lived in different towns—or even different neighborhoods—before, which meant they were facing a separation that would be extremely challenging for both of them. 

So there were tears now and then as the two of them worked on sorting kitchen utensils. But they still found things to laugh about, like distant memories related to a certain mixing bowl, which they had once used to make a cake that came out so terrible, no one could eat it. 

In another part of the house, Rei and Asami were going through clothes and old toys, putting some of them in a pile to be donated, and throwing the rest on the bed to be packed later on. They had both turned ten the previous month, though when it came to height, Asami was taller by nearly a whole head. 

Rei was definitely going to be the shortest member of her family when she grew up, not having inherited her mother’s genes when it came to height, though the freckles she had gotten from her had been getting more pronounced lately. Like her mother, they were sprinkled across her entire body. And she was still chubby, which was another contrast between her and Asami, who was as scrawny as a stray. 

The two girls had gotten themselves matching haircuts the previous weekend, so they both had bangs now, with the rest of their hair barely reaching their shoulders. The style was similar to how Etsu wore her hair, and it suited both of them quite well. 

Rather than being sad about moving away, Asami was excited, referring to it as her upcoming adventure in the big city. So she and Rei happily chatted away as they went through her stuff, not addressing the impending separation that was looming over them, which was going to hurt once it finally happened. 

They would likely struggle just as much as their mothers when it came to living apart from each other. 

While everyone else made conversation as they worked, it was totally silent in Kazuki’s bedroom, where Issei was helping him sort his belongings into different piles. 

Ever since Kazuki was told that he would be moving away, he withdrew deep into himself, not even opening up to Asami when she tried to discuss it with him in private. He hadn’t spoken at all in several days, and he hadn’t been eating much either, which was a bit concerning.

Like his sister, he was still as frail now as he had been when they were preemies. He seemed to get more scrawny with each growth spurt, always shooting up, but never filling out. 

And he didn’t seem to be fully present as he moved things out of his closet, doing so in a robotic way, like he was just going through the motions. 

His dark eyes had become dull, his wavy black hair was messier than normal, and his movements were even more stiff than they usually were, as if he were being held together only by the rigid tension that was visible across his entire body. 

Issei knew his brother wasn’t happy, but he wasn’t sure how to help him. He could only hope his presence offered some small sliver of comfort.

Meanwhile, Mr. Hanamaki and Takahiro had gone out to rent one of the two vans that would be needed for the big move, and they filled it with a bunch of flattened boxes before driving it back to their neighborhood. 

As for Mr. Matsukawa, he found an excuse to be out of the house most of the day.

In fact, over the past week, he had hardly been home at all. And whenever he was home, the agitation and awkwardness between him and Yuko was nearly unbearable, especially for Issei, who had a nagging sense that he needed to do something—anything—to make things easier for his family.

But there was nothing he could do aside from exactly what he was doing, which was staring at Kazuki’s lego collection, wondering how the elaborate sets could be packed up without getting broken in the move. It didn’t seem possible. 

The best course of action would probably be to take them apart and bag them up, keeping the instruction booklets with their sets. That way, once Kazuki was settled in, he would be able to rebuild them. He could likely handle doing that on his own now. 

“Do you want me to take these apart and put them in bags for you?” Issei asked, putting his hands on his hips as he glanced at his little brother. 

That question got the biggest response Kazuki had given in days. His gaze shot towards the shelf, he somehow became even more tense, and he adamantly shook his head.

Panic was pooling in his eyes, though his expression remained flat. 

“Okay, I won’t take them apart,” Issei quickly promised. “I’m just not sure how we’re gonna get them packed up.”

Kazuki stood frozen in place, staring at his collection of lego sets, all of which had been built by him, Issei, and Takahiro over the years. There was a layer of dust on them, because they were rarely played with and never moved from their places on the shelf. He enjoyed looking at them more than anything else. 

“I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” Issei continued in a reassuring voice. “Let’s just focus on your closet for now and come back to that later.”

It almost seemed like Kazuki hadn’t been listening. He stood and stared at his collection, his eyes still filled with panic as his fingers twitched at his sides, like he was frantically trying to think of an immediate solution. 

Despite how minor it might seem to an outside observer, this was a huge display of emotions for him. He was teetering between a meltdown and a total shutdown, the second of which was much more common for him, seeing as he tended to turn his feelings inwards whenever he was overwhelmed. 

Issei stepped closer to his little brother, blocking his view of the shelf in an attempt to distract him from it. “Wanna take a break for a while?”

No response of any kind came from Kazuki, whose breathing became quick and shallow. His jaw was clenched, and he curled his fingers into tight fists, making his knuckles go white.

At this point, Issei realized a distraction wasn’t going to be effective. “It’s gonna be fine. Really, Kazu, we’ll figure something out.”

All of a sudden, Kazuki stepped around Issei and went over to the shelf, grabbing the edge of it with one hand. He pressed his other hand to his throat as he got a closer look at his lego sets, and based on the way his chest was moving, he had begun to hyperventilate.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Issei repeated as calmly as possible, though he was getting nervous. He rarely ever saw his little brother in such an extreme state of anxiety. 

Throughout the entirety of Kazuki’s life, Yuko, Misumi, and even Asami usually stepped in to help him regulate himself before it got to this point, and Issei was about to go get one of them. 

But then Mr. Hanamaki appeared at the open door, with a stack of flattened boxes tucked under one arm. And he was spinning a roll of packing tape around one finger. “Knock knock, can I come in?”

“Yeah, you can set those next to the desk,” Issei replied, turning to give Mr. Hanamaki a look he hoped would silently express that he needed help.

“Is everything okay?” Mr. Hanamaki asked, immediately reading the room after he put the boxes down and set the roll of tape on the desk. 

Issei glanced at Kazuki, who was trembling all over. “He’s having a hard time.”

Hearing that was enough to make Mr. Hanamaki take the situation seriously, though it was in his nature to remain lighthearted, especially when things were stressful. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a piece of candy that was wrapped in bright green foil, holding it out towards Kazuki as he came to stand beside him.

“Well,” he said cheerfully, “I’ve got just the thing for that.”

Kazuki didn’t take the candy, nor did he acknowledge Mr. Hanamaki’s presence. He just kept on trembling and hyperventilating. 

“Catch,” Mr. Hanamaki said, tossing the candy at Issei, since Kazuki clearly wasn’t going to accept it.

Then he focused his attention on the shelf, staring at what Kazuki’s eyes were glued to, which was the largest of the lego sets.

He quickly put two and two together.

“Hmm, it might be a challenge to pack these up. Is that what you’re anxious about?”

Without any warning, Kazuki suddenly swatted at the lego set, knocking it off the shelf and sending it crashing down.  

That came as quite a shock for Issei, who had just put the piece of candy in his mouth. He let it sit on his tongue as he stared at the legos that were now scattered across the hardwood floor. 

Mr. Hanamaki spoke in a tone that was still lighthearted, though it was also filled with a great deal of compassion and understanding.

“Ah, the old preemptive strike.” He gently put a hand on Kazuki’s shoulder as they stood side by side. “When we feel like we don’t have control over a situation, we find something we can control, even if that means destroying the very thing we were afraid to lose.”

Kazuki was staring at the pieces of his lego set in horror, like he couldn’t believe what he had just done. And he seemed to be on the verge of tears. 

“But you know, things can be rebuilt easily enough, especially if you ask for help,” Mr. Hanamaki continued. “Keep this in mind, kiddo. Lots of people care about you. And whenever you’re feeling overwhelmed, we’ll always be here to help you through it.”

There were tears welling up in Kazuki’s eyes, and he glanced at Issei as he tapped his fingers against his throat. 

“Oh, did you wanna use this?” Issei asked as he pulled his phone out of his pocket, bringing it over to his little brother. 

Kazuki took the phone and typed something out. Doing so caused him to cry, though he didn’t make any noise as the tears rolled down his cheeks.

That’s not true. You guys won’t be with me after I move away. You won’t be there to help me.

“You’ll have your mother, and Ah-chan, and your grandparents,” Mr. Hanamaki said softly, like it pained him that he wasn’t going to be in Kazuki’s life as much anymore. “You won’t be alone.”

“We’ll come visit,” Issei added, feeling a surge of sadness fill his chest. 

As he continued to cry silent tears, Kazuki glanced at Issei before typing out another message.

I want our family to stay together. Why aren’t you and dad coming with us? Did we do something wrong? 

“I’m . . . it’s just . . .”

That was all Issei could get out. 

When thinking about who he would disappoint by choosing to stay in Miyagi, he hadn’t considered that it would upset his little brother so much. And he didn’t know how to explain what was going on between their parents. 

Luckily, Mr. Hanamaki knew what to say. “Sometimes living apart is the best thing a family can do. There’s different opportunities in different places, and in order for each person to get the best opportunities, they have to find the right place for them. You remember when Eh-chan moved to Tokyo last spring, don’t you?”

Kazuki nodded, sniffling as he wiped away some tears. 

“It was hard for her to go, and we miss her very much. But she’s happy to be in a place that gives her the right opportunities,” Mr. Hanamaki explained, putting an arm around Kazuki’s shoulders so that he could hug him. “Tokyo is a wonderful place, Kazu. I think you’ll like living there. I grew up there, you know. So did Misumi and your mother. And haven’t you always enjoyed visiting your grandparents?”

Kazuki nodded again and typed another message on Issei’s phone.

I like their house. There’s a big bathtub and a garden in the backyard.

“I saw the garden last time I was there,” Mr. Hanamaki said. He and Misumi often stopped by to visit Yuko’s parents when they were in Tokyo, because Misumi and her late parents had always been close with them. “I’m sure Gramps will be happy to have your help with the garden.”

That made Kazuki smile a little bit, though he hadn’t stopped crying yet.

He always lets me help.

Takahiro came waltzing into the room at that point. Even though the swelling on his nose had gone down a lot in the last few days, the bruise still looked awful. Some imaging had revealed a small fracture at the top of his nose, but as long as he was careful not to bump his face on anything, he wasn’t too bothered by it.

He was quick to notice the legos all over the floor, which made him pause in shock. Then he saw that Kazuki was all teary-eyed.

So he walked up to him, though he stepped on a few legos as he went. “Ouch! Ack! Ow! Damn, these things hurt!” 

Kazuki hugged Takahiro once he was close enough, crying again as he pressed his face against him. 

“Did your legos get knocked down while you were packing?” Takahiro asked, patting Kazuki’s back in a soothing manner, apparently having assumed that was the only cause of his distress. “Don’t worry, I’ll help you fix it.”

“He’s working through some big feelings about moving,” Mr. Hanamaki said with a sympathetic smile. Then he heard Misumi call for him from the kitchen, so he turned to leave the room, glancing over his shoulder as he went. “Come find me if you want some candy—I got a whole bunch on sale yesterday.”

“Wait, there’s candy? I want some!” Takahiro exclaimed, grinning when his father threw a piece at him. He caught it with one hand and popped it into his mouth, sticking the wrapper in his pocket.

Then he squatted down and wrapped his arms around Kazuki, picking him up and giving him a nice, long squeeze. “Now what’s all this about you dealing with some big feelings, huh? Want me to squish them out of you?”

After a moment, he tilted Kazui until he was almost upside down, shaking him gently. “Or maybe I should just pour them out.”

That made Kazuki giggle. And once he was set down, he typed out a message on Issei’s phone, blinking away fresh tears.

I’m really going to miss you.

“I’m gonna miss you too, kid,” Takahiro said, tapping his finger against his chin as he chewed up his piece of candy. “You know what you need? Your own cell phone. Then you’d be able to text me all the time.”

Kazuki nodded in agreement and quickly typed a message.

That would be really cool! But my mom said I can’t have my own phone yet because I’m not old enough :(

“I’m sure you’ll be able to use Mom’s phone when you wanna talk to us,” Issei said, finally recovering from how emotional he had been feeling.

Being around Takahiro always seemed to have a calming effect on him.

“Whenever you get lonely, you can send me a text from your mom’s phone, no matter what time it is.” Takahiro ruffled Kazuki’s tangly mop of hair. “And if you ever need me, I’m just a train ride away.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” Issei said, putting a hand on Kazuki’s shoulder while simultaneously elbowing Takahiro in the ribs. “After all, I’m his big brother.”

“What he means to say is we’ve both got your back,” Takahiro said, using his thumbs to wipe away Kazuki’s lingering tears. “So let’s work together and get your stuff all packed up. Oh, and I’ve got a plan for your lego sets. Just leave that to me.”

Kazuki nodded and gave Issei’s phone back. 

The first thing they did was rebuild the broken lego set, and then they packed it up with the others. Takahiro put tape on the bottom of them so they wouldn’t slide around, which turned out to be rather effective, though they did use up more than six boxes just for the twenty or so lego sets. 

A few days later, there were two vans parked outside of Issei’s house. He and Takahiro were going to load boxes into them while their mothers made lunch for everyone. They planned on having that one last meal together, and then it would be time to leave. 

Yuko and Misumi were going to ride together in one van, along with most of the boxes, and Mr. Hanamaki would drive the other van with Rei and the twins.

At the present moment, the trio of ten-year-olds were sitting in the sun room, which was attached to the dining room by a set of double doors. They were all squeezed onto a large hammock that was bathed in sunlight. In that room, there were tall windows along the entire outside wall, and the ceiling was made of glass. It would be the perfect place for indoor plants, though none were currently in there.  

The doors that led outside were open, letting air circulate. It was a warm day, and the air was a bit muggy, but the breeze passing through the sun room made it perfectly comfortable. 

Out in front of the house, Issei and Takahiro had both worked up a sweat from moving all the boxes onto the sidewalk, near the two vans. And they were about to figure out how to fit more than thirty boxes inside of the vehicles, while still leaving room for the passengers. 

“Time for some real-life tetris,” Issei remarked, setting the last box down on the sidewalk and wiping some sweat off his brow. 

Takahiro was standing with his hands on his hips, staring at the cargo area of the first van, which had three rows of seating. The bruises on his face from getting headbutted were still quite noticeable, but they were healing little by little.

“They don’t need the extra seats, so we should probably fold them all down.”

“Good idea,” Issei said, crawling into the van so he could look for the latch. “We should try to get most of the boxes in here.”

“Yeah, we just have to make sure we put Kazu’s lego somewhere safe.” Takahiro went around to the side of the other van, opening the sliding door. Then he grabbed the boxes that held Kazuki’s legos, carefully stacking them in the third row. 

The second row of that van had to be left empty, because it would be needed for the twins and Rei during the drive.

Once the first van had the back rows all folded down, the boys started putting boxes inside of it. They managed to get most of them in there. But six boxes had to be stacked in the back of the second van.

Right after they loaded the last box, Mr. Hanamaki showed up with his camera in hand. “Hey there. Looks like you boys made it all fit, huh?”

“Just barely,” Takahiro replied. “You guys are gonna be packed in there pretty tight.”

Mr. Hanamaki peeked in the back of both vans. He took some pictures of all the boxes that were crammed inside, and then he turned the camera on the boys, snapping a few shots of them.

“Well, it’s a good thing you two won’t be coming along. There wouldn’t be any room.”

“Yeah, I’d get claustrophobic if I had to travel like a sardine smashed in a tin can,” Takahiro said, pulling his shirt up to wipe sweat from his chin. “I’ll stick with taking the train.”

“Are you going out there to visit your sister when volleyball camp is over?” Mr. Hanamaki asked. He would be staying in Tokyo with Misumi and Rei until the following week, giving him enough time to see Etsu and his other relatives once they were done helping Yuko move. 

“Probably not,” Takahiro replied as he closed the back of the van. “Training camp goes for two weeks, and then we’ve got a ton of homework to do when we get back.”

“We were thinking of visiting over spring break,” Issei added, taking a moment to lock both vans. Then he led the way towards his front door. 

“That’s a good idea,” Mr. Hanamaki said. “We were planning to visit Tokyo again around that time, so we can all go together.” 

“Funny how Eh-chan hasn’t come home to visit us yet,” Takahiro remarked offhandedly. “I distinctly recall her saying she’d be back every weekend, but it’s been over three months.”

“She’s been swamped with homework,” Mr. Hanamaki said, getting a faraway look in his eyes. “Medical school isn’t exactly a stroll in the park.”

The three of them walked into the house, and they were immediately hit with the smell of cheese-filled hamburger steaks. Yuko knew how much Issei liked the way she made those, and since she wasn’t going to be able to cook for him anymore, she chose to make it for him as a parting gift. 

But that wasn’t the only thing she and Misumi had made for lunch. 

Each child’s favorite dish was on the table, spread out like a feast. There were cold soba noodles and tempura vegetables for the twins, gyoza for Rei, and cream puffs for Takahiro, who popped one in his mouth as he passed the table to wash his hands in the kitchen.

Once everyone had washed up, they sat together at the crowded table, enjoying all the delicious food. The conversation during the meal remained casual—no one brought up the fact that most of them would be hitting the road when they were done eating. 

It wasn’t until all the food was gone that anyone left the table. 

Mr. Hanamaki washed the dishes, assisted by Rei and the twins, and then they all gathered up in the sun room to take a photograph together.  

It would be a simple one, with everybody standing in front of the glass wall that overlooked the side yard. After getting the camera set up on a shelf at eye level, Mr. Hanamaki used the automatic timer to take several shots, capturing the last moments of their final afternoon together.

When that was done, they couldn’t put off their goodbyes any longer. 

Asami hugged Issei first, and she sounded relatively cheerful. “I’m gonna miss you!”

“I’ll come visit in a few months,” Issei said, squeezing his sister for a long time. Then he let her go and pulled Kazuki into his arms. “Don’t forget to text me.”

Kazuki nodded against Issei’s chest.

Then the twins hugged Takahiro, and Issei turned towards his mother, who was staring at him with a wobbly smile. 

“I’ll call you once a week so we can catch up,” Yuko promised as she hugged him so tightly that it seemed like she might never release him. And he was so much taller than her now that from a distance, one might think she was the child and he was the parent. 

Issei closed his eyes, not wanting to let go of his mother. It was hard to imagine living so far away from her. He would be facing approximately six months without her, assuming they didn’t see each other again until next spring. And he had never even spent more than a few days away from her before. 

“Take care of yourself,” Yuko said as she finally pulled away, quickly wiping her eyes. Then she gave Takahiro a hug. 

“He’ll have us all looking out for him,” Misumi promised. She was standing near the front door beside her husband, and he nodded in agreement. 

Meanwhile, Rei grabbed the twins and pulled them towards the door. They were all excited for their road trip together. But then she paused, looking over her shoulder and flashing a wide smile, which showed off her dimples. “See you guys later!”

“Have fun being a sardine,” Takahiro said as he watched the trio of ten-year-olds make their way outside.

With that, those who were leaving went over to the vans and piled in, which left Issei and Takahiro standing in the doorway. They didn’t close the door until their loved ones had finally driven off. 

“Well, that’s that,” Takahiro remarked, glancing at Issei in a sympathetic manner. “You doing alright?”

“Yeah,” Issei replied, though he had a strange feeling in his chest, like there was something very heavy inside of it. And that feeling was slowly radiating out to the rest of his body. He slumped his shoulders, unable to hold them up. “I’m kinda tired.”

Takahiro hummed knowingly. “Want me to stay, or would you rather be alone?”

Issei briefly met Takahiro’s gaze, but he couldn’t help studying the bruises that were under his eyes and across the bridge of his nose. “I think . . . I wanna be alone for now.”

“Alright,” Takahiro said, patting Issei’s arm. Then he slipped on his shoes and opened the front door. “Call me if you need me.”

“Don’t forget to pack your stuff for training camp,” Issei said as he watched Takahiro step outside. “We’ve gotta leave early tomorrow.”

Takahiro glanced back, giving a lazy grin as he walked away from the house. “Will do.”

Issei left the door open until Takahiro was out of sight, and then he lingered near the entryway, wondering what he should do with himself. 

That heavy feeling in his chest had already spread all the way down to his feet, so for a long time, he just stood in place and listened to the silence surrounding him. 

The house was very quiet. 

There was no obnoxious laughter from Asami as she cracked up over her own jokes. There was no gentle swish of pages turning as his mother skimmed through a book. There was no background noise from Kazuki watching television. 

There was only a faint buzz coming from the refrigerator, which brought him no comfort.

He eventually found himself standing in the middle of Asami’s bedroom. The desk was cleared off, the dresser was as empty as the closet, and the bed was bare. If not for the stickers scattered around on the walls and furniture, there wouldn’t have been any traces of his sister left in that room. 

Underneath the edge of the bed, Issei spotted one of the little paper airplanes that Takahiro had made with the twins a few weeks earlier. He picked it up and stared at it for a while. Then he set it down, leaving it on the desk. 

After that, he wandered into Kazuki’s bedroom. 

The shelf that used to hold various lego sets was home to only dust now, and the rest of Kazuki’s belongings were in the boxes Issei had loaded into the vans earlier. The room had been stripped of everything that made it seem like someone had grown up there. 

But being in his brother’s bedroom reminded him of countless memories. 

As he stood there dwelling on the past, his chest started to ache, and his body grew so heavy that he crawled onto the bed and curled up on his side, unable to stand any longer. Then he just stared at the wall, thinking back on his life so far. 

It wasn’t until Issei was startled awake by a nightmare about drowning that he realized he had fallen asleep on Kazuki’s bed. 

With a gasp, he sat up and looked around the room, which had grown dark. Several hours must have passed, and he confirmed that when he checked his phone. It was just past eight o’clock.

His phone was on silent, so he had missed a call from his mother, who followed up with a text to let him know they had made it safely to her parents house. 

There were also a few texts from Takahiro, most of which were just random thoughts. But in the last one, he asked Issei how he was doing, and that had been sent just a few minutes ago. 

Issei typed out a quick reply to assure Takahiro that he was fine, and then he got up and headed for the bathroom so he could take a shower. 

However, as he was passing his father’s office, he noticed that the light was on. And the door wasn’t closed all the way, so he paused next to it and peeked inside. 

Mr. Matsukawa was sitting at his desk. There was an old picture frame in his hands, and he stared at it silently, apparently lost in thought. 

The photograph was one that Issei recognized. It was of him and his parents, taken like a selfie at a local park when he was around two years old. His mother’s hair had been shorter back then, and she looked very happy as Issei slept with his head on her lap. 

His father also looked very happy. And his hairstyle was the same now as it had been back then, kept short and neat, with each hair always in its proper place. The only noticeable difference was the little flecks of gray that had developed in the past few years. 

Issei didn’t remember that day at the park. But looking at the photograph made him think of the way things used to be, back when he believed his father was the coolest person in the world, worthy of his unwavering loyalty and admiration.  

His chest started aching again as he stood in the hallway, looking in at his father, who still hadn’t noticed his presence. Then he suddenly felt like he should check his phone, which was still on silent. So he pulled it out and found a short message from Takahiro waiting for him. 

Wanna sleep over?

Issei grinned slightly before knocking on the office door, which got his father’s attention. “Can I sleep over at Takahiro’s house?”

Mr. Matsukawa set the picture frame down and swiveled in his chair, turning to face Issei with an unreadable expression. He looked much like his son because of his thick eyebrows and pronounced upper lip.

“Don’t you leave for training camp tomorrow morning?”

“Yeah,” Issei replied. “But I could pack my stuff up before I go over.”

“I don’t think it’s a good night for a sleepover.” It was clear from Mr. Matsukawa’s tone that his answer was final, so there was no point in trying to change his mind. 

“Alright,” Issei said, feeling that heaviness from earlier settle over his entire body again. “Did you already have dinner?”

“I didn’t,” Mr. Matsukawa replied, getting to his feet and straightening his tie. “Let’s go out for dinner tonight, just the two of us.”

A subtle burst of excitement shot through Issei, lessening the heaviness that had been weighing him down. His father hadn’t offered to spend time with him one-on-one in a long time. 

“I’m glad you chose to stay here with me,” Mr. Matsukawa said, squeezing Issei’s shoulder as he passed him in the doorway. “You made the right choice.”

Issei smiled at his father and followed him down the hallway, sending Takahiro an explanatory text before they left the house. 

Dinner ended up being a wonderful experience. They mostly talked about playing sports, and for the first time in many months, Issei felt like his father was genuinely interested in his life. He was given words of encouragement and a renewed promise that his father would come watch him play once he was a starter, which stoked the flames of his determination to get better and go to nationals. 

That was sure to make his father proud. 

When they were done eating, they grabbed dessert at the same ice cream place they went to for his seventh birthday, despite how late it was getting. 

The heaviness in Issei’s body became lighter and lighter as the evening went on, until he could no longer feel it at all. 

A small part of him was still upset about the hurtful things his father had said in the past, but by the end of the night, his mind was filled with nothing but hopeful anticipation for the future. 

Chapter Text

“I feel so bad about your nose,” Iwaizumi said, looking at Takahiro from the seat across the aisle. They were both at the very back of the bus that was taking them to Aoba Johsai’s two-week-long training camp, which was being held at the base of a nearby mountain. 

“It’s really no big deal,” Takahiro replied. His face wasn’t swollen anymore, but there was still a faint bruise spanning across the bridge of his nose, going under both of his eyes. It wasn’t anywhere near as dark as it had been during the first ten days. 

“You know, I find it very interesting that after all the times you headbutted me, you never apologized this much. You never even seem to feel bad,” Oikawa said, pouting at Iwaizumi, who was right next to him in the back row of the bus. “Why does Makki get special treatment?”

“Because I didn’t mean to hurt him,” Iwaizumi scoffed, as if it should be obvious.

The bus went over a series of bumps, jolting everyone around in their seats. It had been a rough ride ever since they made it to the dirt road they were currently traveling on. And because dust was kicking up, only the front windows of the bus could be open, making it rather hot inside. 

“Oh, so when it’s on purpose, you don’t feel bad about it?” Oikawa was acting offended, though he didn’t actually seem like he was that upset. 

It was getting a little easier for Issei to read him, and if he didn’t know any better, he would almost think Oikawa just wanted to keep Iwaizumi’s attention on himself as much as possible. 

With a sigh, Iwaizumi glanced at Oikawa, his expression weary and irritated. “I do feel bad when I hurt you. I’m usually just trying to knock some sense into you when you’re giving yourself a hard time . . . but maybe I take it too far now and then.”

“Aw, you’re worried about me?” Oikawa flashed a wide grin and rubbed his elbow against Iwaizumi’s arm. “That’s so sweet, Iwa-chan!”

Iwaizumi’s face went red, and then he shoved Oikawa to the far side of their seat, right against the window. “Give me some space, dumbass. It’s hot as hell in here. And I know it’s probably impossible for you, but try shutting up for a while.”

Takahiro was sitting in the aisle seat of the back row, and he turned to look at Issei, who was right beside him. Then he mouthed the words, look how flustered he is. 

Issei leaned over to whisper in Takahiro’s ear. “He’s getting closer and closer to his gay awakening.”

Takahiro nodded, speaking in a quiet voice. “Any day now.”

“What are you guys talking about?” Yuda asked, turning around and peeking over the back of the seat that was in front of them. He was next to Shido, and Sawauchi was across from them, sitting by himself and staring out the window. 

“We were just saying I might be able to play this week, after all,” Takahiro replied, coming up with a lie on the spot. 

But the truth of the matter was that his father told him to sit out during the first week of camp, just to give his fractured nose more time to heal. It was crucial that he avoided the risk of taking a ball to the face before he was fully recovered. And both of their coaches were already aware of that, which meant he couldn’t just ignore his father’s advice and play anyway. 

“Really?” Yuda studied Takahiro’s faint bruises with a concerned expression. “I thought you couldn’t play until next week.”

“Eh, I don’t have to be that careful. My nose is way better now. I’m sure I can at least serve the ball,” Takahiro remarked, relaxing in his seat and tapping his knuckles against the dusty window. “If I wanna get a starting position next year, I can’t keep watching from the sidelines. I’ve gotta practice and find ways to stand out.”

“So true,” Oikawa chimed in, leaning forward to look past Iwaizumi. “I really admire your dedication, Makki. You’ve had a lot of setbacks this year.”

“But you shouldn’t push yourself too hard,” Iwaizumi added, like he was speaking not only to Takahiro, but to Oikawa as well. 

“Don’t worry,” Issei said, nudging Takahiro’s side. “I’m not gonna let him overdo it.”

“As much as we try, we can’t always stop people from acting like a dumbass,” Iwaizumi muttered, glancing at Oikawa with a very subtle sense of worry. 

“Uhm, was that directed at me, Iwa-chan?” Oikawa asked, pressing a hand to his chest as he turned to sit sideways in his seat, facing Iwaizumi right as the bus went over another rough patch in the road. It was bumpy enough to bounce everyone up into the air, and the back of Oikawa’s head hit the window when he came down.

Iwaizumi smirked wryly. “See any other dumbasses around here?”

“Whoa, look at that,” Sawauchi said from the seat ahead of them. He was staring out the dusty window, squinting as he tried to get a better view. “I think we’re here.”

They had just pulled up in front of a small ryokan. It was surrounded by tall trees that were various shades of dark green, which were part of a forest that spread out flat at the sides and went upwards behind the building, where a lush mountain made a picturesque backdrop. 

And even from inside the bus, the cicadas in the forest could be heard loud and clear, chirping out their songs of summer.

There was a gym behind the ryokan that was barely visible from where the bus had just parked. This was the place Aoba Johsai always went for volleyball retreats, and the first-years were excited to finally get to experience the tradition. It was only them and the second-years, because all of the third-years had retired after failing to make it through the Interhigh Preliminaries back in June. 

That meant there were under twenty people along for this trip. The seven first-years, the six second-years, and their two coaches. But at the end of the week, another team would be joining them. The first half of training camp was dedicated to polishing up individual skills, and the second week was for practice games. 

Once they all grabbed their bags, they got off the bus, heading towards the front of the ryokan. 

“I love the air here,” Oikawa said, taking a deep breath in through his nose. “It’s so fresh.”

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Issei agreed. The air in the mountains always smelled good when compared to the city. He and the others walked into the ryokan, stopping to remove their shoes at the entrance, which had two wooden steps.

“It’s very old-fashioned,” Yuda remarked, referring to the ryokan itself. It was an old building with sliding doors, tatami mat flooring, and open-air hallways all around it. There were even paper walls in the dining room.

“It kinda reminds me of my grandparents’ house,” Issei said as he took off his shoes, setting them aside. Then he put on the slippers that were provided by the ryokan.  

They were greeted by the owner—an old woman wearing a kimono, with dark gray hair all pulled up into a neat bun—and then they were shown to their rooms, which were small and narrow. Each one would only allow for a maximum of twelve futons. So the first-years would be sharing one, the second-years would be in the next, and the coaches would be staying in their own room. 

There were three other sleeping rooms in the ryokan, and they were all located on the opposite side of the building. 

“We get the evening to settle in,” Iwaizumi said as he put his bag down in front of the closet. “Practice starts tomorrow.”

Oikawa was looking through some clothes that had been set out near the entrance of their room. “Oh, neat, there’s a yukata for each of us.”

“Should we change into them now?” Shido asked, tossing his bag on the floor, like everyone else was doing. “Or do we wait until later?”

“Let’s go soak in the bath first,” Takahiro suggested with a grin. “I heard Coach Irihata say it’s at the end of the hall.”

“That’s a great idea,” Oikawa said, grabbing a ziplock bag of toiletries from his luggage. He also snagged a yukata from the pile near the sliding door, taking all of that with him as he left the room. 

Everyone else followed suit, selecting one of the plain blue yukata before heading down the hallway to the small bathhouse, which was marked with low-hanging curtains that led into a changing room. The kitchen was right next door to the bathhouse, and beyond that was the restroom. This was all located at the back of the ryokan.

Once they got to the bathhouse, they all stripped down, grabbing a towel and a washcloth from the stacks that were above the baskets used for storing clothes. Then they went over to the showers that were lining two of the walls, thoroughly soaping up and rinsing off the dust and grime from their journey. 

Bottles of shampoo and body wash were available for communal use, though Oikawa preferred the products he had brought along from home. 

The bathhouse was completely tiled from floor to ceiling, and it was very humid, much more so than it was outside. There was also the slightest scent of mildew in the air. And in one corner of the room, there was a large, rectangular bath filled with steaming water. They were all looking forward to soaking in it.

“I wonder how your mom and the twins are doing over in Tokyo,” Takahiro mused as he finished washing his hair. “Have you talked to any of them yet?”

“Yeah, I called my mom this morning,” Issei replied, rinsing a few stray suds off his body. “I meant to call her last night, but it was too late when me and my dad got home.” 

Takahiro turned off his shower and walked over to the large bath, stepping into it and lowering himself until the water reached his neck. “Did you have fun with him?”

“Yeah, we had a nice time,” Issei replied, grinning as he got in the bath. The water was almost too hot to tolerate. At most, he would only be able to stay in for fifteen minutes, though that might be pushing it. “Sorry I couldn’t sleep over last night.”

“It’s fine, I didn’t mind having the whole house to myself,” Takahiro said, looking rather content as he rested his elbows on the light green tile. Even though he hated walking around in the heat, he always loved a hot bath. “I just didn’t want you to be lonely on your first night without your mom and the twins.”

“I appreciate that.” Issei glanced at Takahiro, noting how shaggy his pinkish-brown hair was getting, nearly hiding his ears.

He knew his own hair was also getting a bit long, beyond the length his father liked him to keep it. They were both due for a trim once training camp was over. 

“How are you feeling about everything?” Takahiro asked as he watched Shido and Sawauchi step into the bath.

“I’m not sure,” Issei replied, sinking lower in the water to submerge his shoulders. Thanks to being jostled around in the bus for several hours, his muscles were stiff. “It hasn’t really set in yet.”

“Well, if you start feeling all emotional, you know I’m here for you,” Takahiro said in a playful voice, though he was being sincere. 

“I’m here for you, too,” Yuda said as he got into the bath and sat beside Issei, making himself comfortable. He ran his fingers through his light brown hair, which looked much darker when it was damp, though the little curls at the very ends were still visible. “So is Ume-chan.”

“What’s happening with your family?” Shido asked, scooting closer to them.

“My mom got a new job in Tokyo,” Issei replied, sitting up taller so he could rest his arms on the edge of the bath, needing a partial escape from the heat of the water. The cool tile felt good against his skin. “She moved there yesterday with my brother and sister.”

Shido put a little white washcloth on his head, having just used it to wipe his neck and face. He was starting to get red from being in the bath. “You’re not moving there, are you?” 

“Nah,” Issei said in a mellow voice. “I’m staying here with my dad.”

“Aw, you’re just like Iwa-chan now,” Oikawa said, finally getting in on the opposite side of the bath. It had taken him a long time to wash his hair. He liked to use a few different products, all of which had a strong coconut smell.  

“His situation isn’t the same,” Iwaizumi muttered as he got in the water, sitting beside Oikawa with a bitter look on his face. “He can still see his mom if he wants to.”

“You can’t see your mom?” asked Shido, who was now sitting across from Iwaizumi, with Sawauchi on one side and Yuda on the other.

“My mom is dead,” Iwaizumi replied flatly, glaring at nothing in particular. 

“Oh, that sucks,” Shido said, frowning like he regretted asking his question.

Oikawa was looking rather concerned about the direction the conversation had gone, and apparently, his solution was to redirect Iwaizumi’s focus by annoying him. He started poking Iwaizumi’s face again and again, until his hand was swatted away. 

“Knock it off,” Iwaizumi snapped, glaring at Oikawa, who kept on trying to poke him.

“What’s your dad like?” Shido asked, directing the question to Iwaizumi, as if he were trying to change the subject. 

“I dunno,” Iwaizumi replied as he grabbed Oikawa’s fingers and bent them backwards, which finally stopped the unwanted poking. “Like most dads are, I guess.”

“My dad’s almost never home these days,” Yuda remarked, wiping his forehead with a washcloth. “He works two jobs now.”

“My dad’s the same way,” Issei said, fanning himself to cool his face off, not that doing so actually did him any good. Being in the steaming hot bath was beginning to make him feel lightheaded. “He only has one job, though.”

“My dad’s pretty cool,” Takahiro said, letting his feet float up to the surface so he could air them out. Based on how flushed his whole body was looking, he wouldn’t be able to stay in the water that much longer. “But his jokes are always awful.”

“His jokes aren’t that bad,” Issei countered with a grin. 

“My dad’s really nice,” Sawauchi mumbled, his tone slightly nervous, though that was typical for him no matter what he was talking about. He just had an anxious disposition. And like everyone else, he was getting rather red from being in the bath. 

“Oh, hey, does anyone know what school is coming next week?” Shido asked as he parted his bangs in the middle, moving them away from his face.

“As far as I know, Coach Irihata’s been having a lot of trouble finding a last minute replacement for the school that backed out,” Oikawa remarked as he picked at his cuticles. “As soon as we got here, I heard him say he had a few more schools he hasn’t asked yet, and Coach Mizoguchi told the owner to let him know right away if anyone calls here looking for him.”

“What if they can’t get another team out here?” Yuda asked, frowning slightly. “Does that mean we won’t get to do practice games next week?”

“We can always play practice games with just our teammates, and there’s plenty of individual training we can do,” Oikawa replied, letting out a resigned sigh afterwards. “But I really hope they find someone.”

The bath was starting to feel suffocatingly hot, so Issei stepped out of the water and grabbed his towel, wrapping it around his waist. Then he walked towards the dressing room, though he turned to speak over his shoulder.

“I’m gonna head back.”

“Me too,” Takahiro said, following Issei’s example. His whole body was as pink as the natural highlights in his hair, and when he wrapped his white towel around himself, it only made him look even pinker. “I feel like I’m cooked all the way through.”

“I’m gonna stay in for a few more minutes,” Yuda said, leaning the back of his head against the edge of the bath. “This is heavenly.”

Shido and Sawauchi both nodded in agreement. 

“I bet I can stay in the longest,” Oikawa said, lowering himself into the water until it reached his chin. 

“It’s not a competition,” Iwaizumi muttered as he moved a little closer to Oikawa, watching over him protectively. “You’ll pass out if you stay in too long.” 

The conversation between their teammates faded away when Issei and Takahiro walked into the dressing room, slipping on their yukata and retrieving their clothes from the little wicker baskets they had left them in.

Then they stepped out into the hallway.

“I still can’t believe my dad told Coach Irihata not to let me play this week,” Takahiro complained as he ran his fingers through his hair, shaking the last bits of moisture out. “If he wouldn’t have said anything, I could’ve joined practice.”

“Yeah, but if a stray ball hit you in the face and made your fracture worse, you’d be stuck watching from the sidelines even longer,” Issei pointed out, walking down the narrow hallway, which was completely open on one side. The heavy outer wall panels had been moved aside to let fresh air in.

Takahiro sighed. “Right, but how often do people actually get hit in the face?”

“Often enough to make it a risk,” Issei replied flatly. “Better safe than sorry.”

“I just feel like I’ve already wasted a whole bunch of time this year,” Takahiro muttered. “At this rate, I’m never gonna be able to show off what I can do.”

“You’ve been doing really well in the Friday night practice games,” Issei said encouragingly. “And the only reason we weren’t given starting positions when the third-years retired is ‘cause Coach Irihata wanted to give the second-years a chance to prove themselves. We can still take their spots if we keep working hard and get ourselves noticed.”

Takahiro glanced around, making sure no one was in earshot. “I don’t think any of the second-years are that good.”

Issei nodded as they made it to their room. “Yeah, I agree. But they still deserve to have their day in the sun.”

“Hmm, fine, I guess you’re right.” Takahiro slid the door open, cracking a grin as he stepped inside. “When did you get so mature?”

“I have my moments,” Issei deadpanned, following Takahiro into the room and kicking off his slippers. 

The two of them lounged around in their yukata, chatting about this and that as they waited for their teammates to show up. Then they all played cards together to pass the time. 

Dinner was served precisely at seven o’clock in the evening. At that point, they all went to the dining hall, which was a long room that was in the heart of the ryokan, stretching from one side to the other. It was between both sets of bedrooms and could be entered from the front of the ryokan or from the hallway that passed the kitchen. 

Inside the dining hall, there were around a dozen low tables, with floor cushions surrounding them. There was also a dish station and a long buffet-style serving table, both of which were located at the far end of the room.  

After enjoying a very delicious meal, the first-years all went back to their room and goofed around until midnight, when Coach Mizoguchi stopped by to yell at them about how they should have been asleep hours ago. 

The next morning, Issei woke up earlier than he normally would have thanks to the two windows that surrounded the sliding door in his room. Those windows faced the hallway, and the thick wall panels all along the far side of the hallway had already been opened up for the day, letting in lots of fresh air and bright sunlight. 

Because the curtains were rather thin, that painfully bright sunlight was shining down right on Issei’s face. And he wasn’t the only one getting hit with such a blinding wake-up call. But for some reason, nobody else seemed to be bothered by it. 

To his left, Takahiro was hidden beneath the covers, though he had one arm sticking out above his head. 

On his right, Yuda had completely wiggled out from under his blanket and was starfishing sideways, with his head on Shido’s stomach and his feet resting just above Issei’s hip.  

It wasn’t the most pleasant scenario to wake up to, in terms of comfort. Issei would have gone back to sleep if there weren’t feet putting pressure on his bladder. 

After carefully lifting Yuda’s legs and rolling out from under them, which pressed him against Takahiro for a moment, he sat up and stretched his back. Then he tiredly stared at the wall as he willed himself to get moving. He needed to go empty his bladder, but his legs weren’t fully awake yet. 

A quick glance around revealed that all of his other teammates were still fast asleep, despite how the room was growing brighter by the minute. It was probably only five or six in the morning, and with how late they had stayed up the previous night, it was no surprise that the rising sun hadn’t disturbed them.

Shido was completely unbothered by having Yuda’s head on his stomach, Takahiro was resting peacefully in his blanket burrow, and Sawauchi was curled up in a ball with an arm over his face. Over on Takahiro’s other side was Iwaizumi and Oikawa, both of whom were sleeping in a way Issei wouldn’t have expected. 

If asked who he thought was more likely to be clingy while sleeping, he would have guessed Oikawa without hesitation. But it turned out to be the other way around. 

Oikawa was sleeping on his side, facing the wall, and Iwaizumi was pressed up against him from behind, literally spooning him. That was especially amusing for one particular reason. The night before, when everyone was about to go to sleep, Iwaizumi told Oikawa he better stay on his own futon. 

And it looked like Oikawa had stayed on his own futon. It was Iwaizumi who inched over some time during the night to grab onto him, doing so in a way that looked uncharacteristically tender. 

Issei wondered what would happen when Iwaizumi woke up like that, and he wasn’t left waiting for an answer. 

As if sensing that someone was watching him, Iwaizumi stirred around and opened his eyes, narrowing them at Oikawa when he realized how close he was to him. With a grouchy huff, he pulled away from him and flipped over onto his own futon, getting comfortable like he was about to go back to sleep. 

But then he saw Issei staring at him, so he froze and stared back silently. Several awkward seconds passed them by in that manner. 

To break the tension, Issei forced a yawn and got up, gesturing at the door. “Gotta pee.”

Iwaizumi nodded in acknowledgement, closing his eyes afterwards. There was an unspoken agreement between them that there hadn’t been anything to see just then, and therefore, no one needed to hear about it.

A few minutes later, Issei came back to the room and saw that Takahiro had rolled onto his futon. He was still burrowed under his own blanket, but he was lying on top of Yuda’s legs, which just had to be uncomfortable. 

As for Iwaizumi, he seemed to have fallen asleep again, assuming he wasn’t faking it to get out of discussing the embarrassing thing that hadn’t just happened. 

With a quiet sigh, Issei grabbed his phone and went to lie down on Takahiro’s futon, since there wasn’t any space for him on his own. Then he tried to send a text to his mother, intending to wish her good luck at her new job. It was going to be her first day. 

But unfortunately, he didn’t have service—there were dead zones all over the ryokan. No texts or calls could be made unless he was able to find somewhere with reception, which would mean walking around outside. That, or he could use the ryokan’s landline. And he didn’t want to do either of those things. 

So he sighed again, a little louder this time. 

That was enough to wake Takahiro up. He peeked his head out of his blanket burrow and stared at Issei, looking somewhat startled. “If you’re over there, whose legs are under me?”

“Yuda’s,” Issei replied with a grin. “Did you think they were mine?”

“I did,” Takahiro said, scooting off of Yuda’s legs and moving from Issei’s futon over to his own, so that they were sharing it. He seemed to be distressed over the mix up. 

Issei snorted. “I kinda feel like I should be upset that you don’t know the difference between me and Yuda’s legs.” 

“It’s not my fault. I was looking for you ‘cause I dreamed that we had a big fight,” Takahiro explained as he settled in, generously putting his blanket over the lower half of Issei’s body. “That stressed me out, so I rolled over and found what I thought were your legs. I was still half asleep, y’know, so I’m sure you can understand why I got confused.”

“What did we fight about in your dream?” Issei asked, pulling Takahiro’s blanket further up, until it was almost to his chin. The room had gotten surprisingly cool overnight, considering how warm it was during the day. 

“You were mad at me for something,” Takahiro muttered, glancing away. “I don’t remember the details.”

“Aw, did you need to make sure I wasn’t really mad at you?” Issei teased, gently elbowing Takahiro’s ribs.

Instead of finding that amusing, like Issei had been expecting, Takahiro crossed his arms and knitted his brows together. Then he spoke in a grumpy voice. “You know what, now that I think about it, you actually did something to piss me off in my dream. So maybe you should apologize.”

“For pissing you off in a dream?” Issei asked flatly, raising an eyebrow. It didn’t seem like Takahiro was joking. 

“Exactly,” Takahiro said, staring up at the ceiling with a stubborn frown. 

The ridiculousness of that was almost enough to make Issei laugh, but he held it in, keeping a straight face. He knew how sensitive and silly Takahiro could be first thing in the morning, especially after staying up too late the previous night. “Alright, I’m sorry for doing whatever I did in your dream.”

“You don’t sound that sorry,” Takahiro muttered, still staring at the ceiling.

“Well, maybe if you tell me what I did, I’ll be able to apologize better,” Issei said as he sat up on one elbow, staring at Takahiro with a playful grin. 

After hearing that, Takahiro pressed his lips into a flat line, and a faint blush dusted his face. 

That reaction only made Issei even more curious. “C’mon, tell me what I did.”

“I don’t remember,” Takahiro finally said, rolling onto his side. 

Issei chuckled, draping an arm over Takahiro and scooting a little closer to him. “Then I guess you’ve gotta forgive me.”

“Fine, you’re forgiven,” Takahiro mumbled, pulling the blanket over his head to block the sun. He also adjusted Issei’s arm, tucking it under his elbow. 

For what must have been at least twenty minutes, the two of them cuddled without speaking, and Issei almost fell asleep. 

But then Takahiro sighed and moved the blanket away from his head. “Man, I’m starving. What time is breakfast served?”

Iwaizumi was the one who answered. “At seven.”

“Oh, hey, I didn’t know you were awake,” Takahiro said, sitting up and looking at Iwaizumi with a lazy smile. “What time is it right now?”

“Hell if I know,” Iwaizumi replied.  

“It’s a quarter to six,” Issei said, checking his phone before putting it on the floor above his pillow. 

“Ugh, I can’t wait that long for food. Maybe I should sneak into the kitchen.” Takahiro climbed over his sleeping friends, digging some clothes out of his bag once he made it to the edge of the room. “Oh, wait, did anyone bring snacks?”

“I think Shido might’ve brought some,” Issei said as he slowly got up. “If he didn’t, Yuda probably has protein bars.”

Having already taken off his pajamas, Takahiro slipped on a shirt and stepped into a pair of gym shorts. Then he went over and nudged Shido with his foot. “Hey, Shido, got any snacks?”

Shido pulled his blanket over his head. Or rather, he tried to do that. But he couldn’t, because Yuda’s head was still resting on his stomach, which was pinning his blanket down.

Frustration from not being able to move his blanket was enough to wake him up all the way, and he looked down at Yudo with an irritated frown.

“Do I look like a pillow to you?”

Yuda didn’t answer. He was still out like a light. 

After watching that interaction, Takahiro grabbed Yuda’s feet, unceremoniously dragging and rotating him until he was back on his own futon. Then he grinned at Shido and repeated his question.

“Got any snacks?”

“I don’t have any snacks,” Shido replied, rolling onto his side. He pulled his blanket over his head, blocking out the light that was filtering into the room through the windows. 

Takahiro turned his efforts towards waking Yuda up next, which was easily done. He had moved him roughly enough to disturb him.

“Hey there, pal. Got any snacks?”

“Yeah, there’s some protein bars in my bag. Help yourself,” Yuda replied sleepily, yawning as he looked around. “What time is it?”

“It’s almost six.” Issei replied for Takahiro, who was already across the room looking for Yuda’s bag. 

“So early,” Yuda mumbled, curling up under his blanket. 

At that point, there was enough noise in the small room to make Iwaizumi give up on sleeping any longer. He folded his blanket and futon, moving them into the closet, where there was just enough space for everyone’s bedding.

“Oh, good idea,” Issei said, getting his and Takahiro’s blankets folded up. Then he grabbed their futons and put them in the closet, placing their blankets and pillows on top of them.

“Time to get up,” Iwaizumi said, leaning down to gently shake Sawauchi, who woke with a start.

Then he went and grabbed Oikawa’s shoulder, shaking him in a way that seemed much rougher. 

“What?” Oikawa whined, smacking Iwaizumi’s hand away.

“It’s morning,” Iwaizumi replied, pulling at Oikawa’s blanket, though he couldn’t get him to release it.

“I need my beauty sleep,” Oikawa muttered, keeping his eyes closed as he clung to his blanket. 

“It’s never worked for you before, so don’t expect it to start working now,” Iwaizumi said in a gruff voice, letting go of the blanket and walking away to get himself dressed. 

Oikawa immediately sat up and threw his pillow at Iwaizumi’s head. “You’re so mean, Iwa-chan!” 

After picking up the pillow and putting it in the closet, Iwaizumi went back to getting dressed, not giving Oikawa a second glance. 

Sitting near the closet, Takahiro had been watching the two of them as he nibbled on a protein bar, which he found in Yuda’s bag. He seemed to be amused by his teammates. And once he was done with his snack, he grabbed the pillows that had already been put into the closet, throwing them at people as hard as he could. 

That started a pillow fight, and the fun lasted nearly thirty minutes, until Coach Mizoguchi came to yell at them for making so much noise first thing in the morning. 

When seven o’clock rolled around, everyone was dressed and ready for breakfast, which was served in the communal dining area. The meal was as traditional as the ryokan, so they were given rice, miso soup, pickled plums, grilled fish, eggs, a small salad, some cooked vegetables, natto, and hot tea. There was plenty of it to go around. 

Once they had all eaten their fill, they went out to the small gym that was behind the ryokan. It was old, but from the looks of it, the owner had maintained it well. 

“Our school has held volleyball retreats here for the past twenty years,” Coach Irihata said, watching his team get the net set up. “Make sure you treat everything with care.”

“Yes, Coach,” everyone said as they scurried around the gym. 

It didn’t take long for the court to be ready, and then they were told to pass the ball back and forth in groups of two or three, keeping the ball up as long as they could. That’s how they spent the first few hours of practice. Each time someone dropped a ball, their group had to do diving drills around the entire gym. 

While that was going on, Takahiro could only fill water bottles and offer towels, which was obviously quite frustrating for him. He wanted to be out there on the court with his teammates, even if that meant doing a bunch of diving drills. But with a fractured nose that was only about two weeks into the healing process, it was better to wait, rather than risk taking a ball to the face and making things worse for himself. 

They stopped to have a snack after passing practice was over, and then it was an hour of serving the ball again and again, with Oikawa and many of the second-years working on jump serves. Takahiro tried to talk his way into participating at that point, but Coach Irihata wouldn’t allow it. He fully intended to make Takahiro sit out until the end of the first week.

Everyone (aside from Takahiro) was exhausted when they got to take a break for lunch. They were given two hours to rest afterwards, during which time they could do whatever they wanted. And they all chose to go sit in the grassy field right outside the gym. 

Clouds had filled the sky over the course of the morning, providing some relief from the sun, though the humidity had worsened. It was muggy enough to make them all miserable. Their shirts were drenched with sweat, both from practice and from the unpleasant weather. 

And the cicadas were as loud as ever, chirping from the forest that was behind the dark green grass the boys were lying around on. 

“My arms hurt so bad,” Shido complained, lifting them up and dropping them back down to his sides. He was stretched out flat on his back, not far from the other first-years.  

“Same here,” Yuda said from where he was sitting beside Shido, right near the border of the grassy field, with the start of the forest just beyond it. “I feel like mine are gonna fall off.”

“I didn’t think training camp was gonna be so hard,” Sawauchi mumbled as he rubbed his wrists. Then a bug flew at his face, so he swatted at it and toppled over backwards, almost falling on Shido as he tried to escape from it. 

“Hanamaki’s lucky he doesn’t have to do any of the drills,” said one of the second-years, sounding kind of annoyed. “Must be nice to laze around all day.”

“Yeah,” said another of the second-years. “He basically just gets a free vacation out of this.”

Takahiro was sitting against the trunk of a tree, and his fists balled up after hearing those words. He was showing a lot of restraint by not making a snarky comment in response to their taunting. 

However, Issei wasn’t willing to let it slide, so he was about to say something in Takahiro’s defense. 

But he didn’t get the chance. 

“If he had a choice in the matter, he’d be out there working as hard as the rest of us,” Iwaizumi asserted, briefly glancing at the faint bruise on Takahiro’s nose, as if he still felt guilty about it. Then he stared at the second-years who had just spoken. “And I know he wouldn’t slack off like you guys did.”

“Wow, you’ve got a rotten attitude,” said the only second-year who wasn’t a starter. “If I wasn’t a libero, I’d steal your starting spot right out from under you.”

“That’s big talk for such a lazy player,” Iwaizumi said dryly.

Oikawa’s smooth voice broke the tension that was building up. “You know what we should do, guys? A trust building exercise!”

Everyone groaned in unison. 

“Oh, don’t be like that,” Oikawa said, getting to his feet and clasping his hands together. “It’ll be fun!”

“Do we have to move?” Shido asked, not looking like he was willing to do so.  

“Uhm . . .” Oikawa thought about it for a second. “Most of the games I have in mind require at least a little movement—oh, wait, I’ve got it! We can do ice breaker questions! No one has to move for that,” he said, sitting back down with a wide smile. “We can stay right where we are!”

“Sounds annoying,” Iwaizumi grumbled as he sat up, loosely wrapping his arms around his knees. 

“Thanks for volunteering to go first,” Oikawa said, patting Iwaizumi’s arm. They were right next to each other. “Ask a question, and we’ll all take turns answering it.”

“Fine,” Iwaizumi said, rolling his eyes. Then he came up with a question. “If you had to play a sport besides volleyball, what would it be?”

“Great question, Iwa-chan!” Oikawa sat up a little taller. “I’ll answer first, and then we’ll go clockwise. Let’s see, if I had to play a sport besides volleyball, I’d play . . . beach volleyball.”

“Oh, come on,” Iwaizumi scoffed. “That doesn’t count.” 

“Shush.” Oikawa held up a finger and pressed it to Iwaizumi’s lips, though his hand was smacked away almost immediately. “It’s not your turn. Go ahead, Yudacchi.”

Yuda hummed thoughtfully, tucking his hands behind his head as he lay in the grass. “I’d probably go with soccer. That’s what I used to play in elementary school, back before they talked me into joining the volleyball club.” He glanced at Takahiro and Issei, both of whom smirked playfully. “You guys wouldn’t take no for an answer.”

“Eh, you weren’t that hard to convince,” Takahiro recalled, smacking at a beetle that was crawling on Issei’s shoulder.  

“I think I’d play baseball,” Shido said as he picked at a big pimple on his chin, which had appeared just that morning. It was the first time any of them had seen him with one. 

“What about you, Saapyon?” Oikawa nodded at Sawauchi, who was also picking at pimples, of which he always had many. “What sport would you play?”   

Freezing in place, Sawauchi looked nervous, like a deer caught in the headlights. It took a long time for him to reply. “Uhm . . . I’m not sure.”

“Personally, I wouldn’t play any other sport,” Takahiro said, plucking some grass and twisting it between his fingers. Then he sprinkled it on Issei’s leg and repeated the process.

“Me neither,” Issei added, glancing down at the growing pile of grass that was right above his knee.   

Each of the second-years gave an answer, and then Oikawa decided it was his turn to ask a question. “What would you guys do if you only had one month to live?”

“Take you down with me,” Iwaizumi deadpanned, skillfully blocking Oikawa’s hand when he tried to smack him for saying that. 

“I’d spend time with Ume-chan,” Yuda said, sounding sad and solemn.

He was having a hard time being away from her, especially since the cell service at the ryokan was awful. If he wanted to send a text, he had to wander around outside with his phone held above his head, and the same spot never seemed to work twice. 

Shido slowly sat up, twisting his mouth as he thought about the question. “I’d probably skip school and go to all my favorite places.”

It was Sawauchi’s turn next, but he didn’t speak until Oikawa looked at him with an encouraging smile. 

“I . . . uhm . . . I’m not sure,” he mumbled, still looking particularly nervous. He didn’t seem to like being put on the spot. 

“I’m horrible with deadlines, so I’d just go ahead and die right away,” Takahiro joked as he continued to pile grass on Issei’s leg. “Avoid the stress of anticipation, y’know.”

As he considered what he would do if he only had a month left to live, Issei grabbed all of the grass that was on his leg and sprinkled it over Takahiro’s hair.

“I don’t think I’d do anything different.”

“There’s really nothing you’d wanna do before you die?” asked one of the second-years. 

“Nah, I’d just keep doing the same stuff,” Issei replied, grinning as he watched Takahiro pick bits of grass out of his hair. “I hang out with cool people every day and I get to play volleyball all the time. I’ve got a pretty good life.”

After shaking the rest of the grass out his hair, Takahiro chuckled and elbowed Issei’s arm. “So basically, you’d spend your last thirty days hanging out with me, just like always.”

“Yep,” Issei confirmed. “But I’d also wanna see my mom and the twins. So I guess we’d have to make a trip to Tokyo, maybe spend a week or two there.”

Most of the second-years gave a response, and then the last one said, “If I was gonna die in thirty days, I’d find someone to have sex with.”

“Are you a virgin?” asked one of the second-years who had been rude to Takahiro earlier. 

“Nah, I’m not a virgin. Me and my last girlfriend did it all the time. I just wanna have sex again before I die,” replied the other second-year with a smirk. “Wait, that’s my question! Who’s had sex, and who hasn’t?”

“I haven’t,” Shido said as he swatted at a fly, which was buzzing around his head. “The girl I dated in middle school didn’t want to, and I haven’t dated anyone since.”

“I haven’t had sex either,” Issei remarked, though discussing this topic was reminding him of how he had disappointed his father by not having a girlfriend yet.

During that distant argument between his parents, there had been implications that his father expected him to be dating and having sex, and the thought of that made him very uncomfortable.   

“I’ve still got my v-card,” Takahiro said in a casual tone, beginning to pile fresh grass on Issei’s leg.

“Same here.” Iwaizumi glanced at Oikawa after speaking, like he was particularly interested in his answer. But then he played it cool and focused his attention elsewhere. 

“It may surprise you guys to hear this . . .” Oikawa paused for dramatic effect as he stretched his legs out in front of himself, leaning back on his hands. He and Iwaizumi were sitting right across from the tree Takahiro was leaning against. “But the truth is . . . I haven’t actually had sex with anyone yet.”

“That’s not surprising at all,” Iwaizumi said, his eyes filling with a sense of relief that was impossible to notice unless specifically watching for it. “You’re loud and annoying. Who’d even wanna have sex with you?”

Suppressing a grin, Takahiro made eye contact with Issei as he put more grass on his leg, calmly communicating how amused he was without using words. It was clear that he thought there certainly was someone who would volunteer for that job. 

“Most of my exes would’ve had sex with me,” Oikawa said with a toss of his hair. “Some of them even asked, but I didn’t wanna risk it.”

“Risk what?” Iwaizumi asked in a dry voice. 

“Disappointing them with his performance issues,” Takahiro chimed in, barely holding back a laugh. 

Oikawa kicked at Takahiro’s feet. “Knock it off, Makki. My parts work perfectly fine. It’s just that when my mom gave me the sex talk, she also went into great detail about the kinds of infections you can get. There were even visual aids! Pictures, flash cards, the kind of stuff that’ll haunt your dreams. And then my sister barged into the room and talked about pregnancy and having babies and stuff. Apparently, my nephew is the product of a broken condom. She said they break all the time. So yeah, it was horrifying. I almost threw up. And honestly, it made me wanna wait until I find the right person. But so far, none of the girls I’ve dated have been the right person. That’s all there is to it.”

“Sure, make your excuses,” said one of the more obnoxious second-years. “I’ve had sex lots of times, and I’ve never gotten an STD or had a condom break—not even once.”

“No way, who’d you have sex with?” asked another of the second-years in disbelief.

“Uhm, my girlfriend, obviously.”

“Wait, what girlfriend?” The team captain seemed rather skeptical. “Since when have you had a girlfriend?”

“Since the beginning of the year,” the other second-year replied, his tone somewhat defensive. “We’ve been pretty quiet about it, what with how the principal gets. You know he’s a real asshole about that whole ‘no dating’ rule. I mean, if he ever finds out about us, he’ll probably call our parents in. Just like he did with him and his girlfriend when they got caught kissing,” he said, gesturing at Yuda. “And they weren’t even at school when that happened!”

“Oh yeah, I forgot about that,” remarked another second-year, looking over at Yuda with an amused expression. “You’ve been dating that girl for a long time, right? How often do you two have sex?”

Yuda’s ears went red, and he awkwardly rubbed the side of his neck. “Oh, uh, we haven’t gone all the way.”

“Really?” Shido tilted his head, studying Yuda’s face. “Even after how long you’ve been dating?”

“We’re not ready for that yet,” Yuda mumbled, looking uncharacteristically bashful. “We’ve just, like, messed around a little bit.” 

“And that’s perfectly fine,” Takahiro said reassuringly, reaching over to give Yuda an affectionate hair ruffle. “You don’t have to rush into that kind of thing.”

“That’s exactly what I’d expect a virgin to say,” sneered one of the second-years. “Maybe I should introduce you to some of my classmates. There’s at least three sluts in my homeroom—hell, I bet they’d put out on the first date, even for you. Want me to set you up with one of them?”

Instead of giving a response, Takahiro just rolled his eyes and went back to piling grass on Issei’s leg. He was breaking a personal record when it came to exhibiting self-control around people who were clearly annoying him.

“Hang on, I just realized all of you first-years are virgins,” the second-year continued. Then he nodded at Sawauchi and snickered. “That is, unless he’s had sex. But I doubt he’s ever even talked to a girl.”

Sawauchi turned bright red and looked away. 

The conversation was making Issei much more uncomfortable now. Not only did he feel like his upperclassman was being a jerk, he also didn’t really like thinking about whether or not people he knew were having sex. 

Takahiro happened to glance at Issei, and he immediately noticed his discomfort. So he cleared his throat to draw everyone’s attention.

“Hey, it’s my turn to ask a question now, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Yuda said, as if he was also eager to move the conversation along to a different topic. 

“My question is . . .” Takahiro rubbed his chin, looking off into the distance. “Ah, okay, I’ve got one. If you could have any superpower, what would it be?”

Everyone got a chance to answer that question, and then it started to rain heavily out of nowhere. So they all went inside the gym to escape the sudden downpour.

But instead of joining the others right away, Oikawa ran to the ryokan and retrieved a small bag, returning to the gym with it tucked under his shirt to keep it dry. It was filled with various odds and ends that were required for the other trust building exercises he wanted to do. 

Then he talked his teammates into doing several different activities. 

First they sat in a row and held paper against each other’s backs, trying to copy what the person behind them was drawing. Then they set up an obstacle course using stuff they found in the storage closet, and they took turns walking through it with a blindfold on, having to rely on a partner to guide them through it. They weren’t allowed to team up with someone they were already close with. 

After that game was done, Oikawa handed out blindfolds for everyone except himself and had their whole group form a line, each standing with their hands on the shoulders of the person in front of them. He was the only one who could see, and he stood at the very back so he could direct the chain of people around the gym, where the person in front had to pick up volleyballs that had been spread around. 

By the time they needed to get back to practice, they had played at least half a dozen games together. It actually worked pretty well at helping the first-years and second-years get along better. Oikawa seemed quite pleased with himself, and their coaches were impressed that he had taken the initiative to do activities that would strengthen everyone’s bonds. 

Coach Irihata even took Oikawa aside and told him he would make a good captain someday. Iwaizumi had been close enough to hear their conversation, and he looked even more proud than Oikawa did. Both of them were smiling a lot more than normal throughout the rest of practice.

Over the next six days, they repeated the routine of drills in the morning and trust building games after lunch, followed by more practice in the afternoon. Then there was an evening run during the last hour before the sun went down, and that was the only thing Takahiro was allowed to participate in during that first week. Even though he deeply hated running in the humid summer heat, he gave it his all, not even complaining about it that much. 

Each day ended with a soak in the bath and a large meal, which was cooked by the grandson of the owner, who lived on-site with her and helped her run the ryokan. He was an excellent cook, and best of all, there were always seconds and thirds available. No one ever went to bed hungry, and no one was able to stay awake that late. None of them had any energy left by the time their head hit the pillow. 

Training camp was certainly a challenge, but it was also very fun. By the start of the second week, the relationships between everyone on the team were markedly improved, and so were all the skills they had been working on.

On the eighth day of training camp, there was a buzz of excitement at breakfast, fueling constant chatter among the first-years and second-years of Aoba Johsai. Not only would Takahiro finally get to join practice, but it was also the first day they would be getting to do practice games with another school. 

The other team that would be joining them for the last week of training camp hadn’t confirmed they were coming until late the previous night, and which school they were coming from hadn’t been announced, so it was a bit of a mystery. 

That was a big part of what everyone was talking about over breakfast. Some people were even taking bets, and Oikawa kept saying he hoped it wasn’t Shiratorizawa, because there was someone on that team he utterly despised. 

Their coaches had eaten breakfast before the boys were even awake, and then they had gone off to privately discuss how they wanted to split their players up during practice games. So it seemed like there might not be an announcement about which school it was until right before the other team arrived.

If that was going to be the case, the boys wouldn’t be able to settle their bets until midmorning, when the other team was supposed to get there. 

And when breakfast was over, everyone had permission to rest and relax, having earned it after a long week of working hard. So most of the volleyball club lingered in the dining hall, where they could stay out of the humid August heat and play cards or shogi.

But rather than sit around in the ryokan, Takahiro wanted to do passing drills, and he roped Issei into helping him with that. The two of them were the only ones in the gym. 

“Nice pass,” Issei called out, bumping the ball towards Takahiro, who received it easily and sent it back towards him. 

Takahiro’s face had healed up so well over the past week that his bruises were pretty much gone, and ever since stepping onto the court after breakfast, he had been smiling wide, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

When the ball came his way again, he bumped it in Issei’s direction. “Here it comes.”

“Got it,” Issei said, getting under the ball. But his receive was off, so the ball went flying through the doors of the gym, disappearing from sight. He hurried to go find it. 

And right after he stepped outside, he found the ball being held towards him, nearly walking into it. 

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Issei’s gaze slowly lifted, and he almost failed to contain his shock when he saw Sakamoto standing there in front of him.

“When I heard you went to Aoba Johsai, I hoped we’d get the chance to play against each other,” Sakamoto continued, still holding the ball out. “But I never expected that we’d get to spend a whole week together.”

“Uh . . . hey, Sakamoto-san, it’s been a long time,” Issei managed, trying not to act as awkward as he felt. Then he finally took the ball back, being careful to avoid touching Sakamoto’s fingers. 

Sakamoto’s brown hair was cut shorter than it used to be, and he was the same height as Issei now. He also seemed to be much more muscular than he had been back in middle school. But his behavior around Issei hadn’t changed.

He smiled shyly as he stepped closer, tucking his hands behind his back and leaning in to speak in a soft voice.

“You know, I’ve given you lots of space this whole time, just like you asked me to. But I can’t help wondering . . . have your feelings changed since we last spoke?”

Issei stared at Sakamoto with a blank expression. He wanted to ask for clarification about when exactly he had asked for space, because he had no recollection of that.

But the sound of his best friend’s voice interrupted him before he could say anything.

“Did you find the ball?” Takahiro asked, appearing in the doorway of the gym.

Then he noticed Sakamoto standing there, and he visibly stiffened, grimacing like he just tasted something rotten.

“Ew, what are you doing here?”

“My team was invited here,” Sakamoto replied coolly, straightening his stance and giving Takahiro a brief glance. Then he turned his gaze back towards Issei, his smile never faltering. “I’ve never been happier to attend a training camp.” 

“Good for you,” Takahiro said dryly as he hurried over to Issei’s side, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a way that could only be described as protective, if not somewhat territorial. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re trying to practice.”

“Mind if I join you?” Sakamoto asked, not waiting for an answer. He slipped past them and went into the gym.

After letting out an irritated sigh, Takahiro looked at Issei, squeezing his shoulders. “Wanna go do something else?”

“It’s fine,” Issei mumbled as he put an arm around Takahiro’s waist, needing a little side hug to calm himself down. He knew how much Takahiro had been looking forward to practicing all week, and for his sake, he could put up with being around Sakamoto for a while. “Let’s just play with him.”

“Hey, there you guys are!” Yuda called out, quickly approaching with the other first-years trailing behind him. He was practically sprinting across the field that separated the gym and the ryokan.

And once he was right in front of Issei and Takahiro, he leaned down to rest his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. “A bunch of our old teammates are over at the dining hall, if you wanna go say hi to them! That’s the team that accepted the invitation!”

“We’ll go say hi later,” Issei said, still hugging Takahiro from one side. He hadn’t really missed his old teammates that much, so he wasn’t in a hurry to see them. “We’re trying to get a bit of practice in before lunch.”

“Wanna play a game of three-on-three?” Oikawa asked, having just made it to the entrance of the gym, along with the other first-years.

Issei nodded, finally letting go of Takahiro, who stayed close to him. “Sure. Who’s gonna be on which team?”

“Iwa-chan’s on my team,” Oikawa declared without hesitation. Then he tapped a finger against his chin, looking his other teammates up and down. “And I think Yudacchi should be our third player.”

“It’s not fair if your team’s the only one with a setter,” Takahiro complained as he rested his forearm on Issei’s shoulder, apparently wanting to maintain physical contact. His words and body were still uncharacteristically stiff, and he clenched his fist when he heard Sakamoto’s voice. 

“I’ll set for Matsukawa-kun’s team,” Sakamoto offered cheerfully. He was leaning against the doorway with his arms crossed, and his eyes were glued to Matsukawa, though Takahiro was standing between them. 

“Who’s this?” Oikawa asked, staring at Sakamoto suspiciously, as if finding another setter with his teammates was a cause for concern. 

“Our old captain from middle school,” Issei replied, shifting uncomfortably under the weight of Sakamoto’s gaze, which was heavy even with Takahiro acting as a buffer. “Sakamoto Koji.”

And then Issei introduced Sakamoto to everyone he didn’t know yet. 

Meanwhile, Oikawa’s eyes grew sharp and calculating as he studied Sakamoto, Takahiro, and Issei, like he was carefully reading their body language. And though it was very subtle, he didn’t seem to be keen on what he was seeing.

“Do you want him on your team, Mattsun?”

“Yeah, he can be on my team,” Issei said, though it left a bad taste in his mouth.

He would have preferred to say no, but he couldn’t bring himself to be that impolite to someone who was older than him, even with how much he disliked his former captain 

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” Yuda exclaimed, giving Sakamoto a friendly pat on the arm. He hadn’t been told about Sakamoto’s inappropriate behavior towards Issei, so he had no reason to think less of him. 

“I can hardly believe it myself,” Sakamoto said with a grin, ignoring the glare Takahiro was shooting at him. Then he turned to walk back into the gym, briefly pausing to look at Issei over his shoulder. “Let’s go get warmed up.”

They all shuffled into the gym, spreading out to do some stretches. 

The entire time they were warming up, Takahiro seemed to be sulking over how things had turned out. And whenever Sakamoto got close to Issei, he would stand between them, cutting into any conversation Sakamoto tried to start and making sure to talk over him. He was being as obnoxiously unwelcoming as possible. 

It was a side of him the other first-years, aside from Issei and Yuda, had never seen before. And it was a stark contrast to how he had been acting at camp so far.  

Over the past week, Takahiro had been making an obvious effort to be polite to his upperclassman and exhibit more self-control, even when they were being rude or annoying. It was likely because he wanted to find a way to impress their coaches with some type of personal growth, considering he couldn’t do that on the court while he was being made to sit out. 

But all of his manners went out the window the second he saw Sakamoto again.  

His behavior reminded Issei of those months after Sakamoto’s party in middle school. If anything, Takahiro was being even more protective now than he was back then. It was as if he had already spent all of his patience on his upperclassman, and now he was letting his pent-up irritation out on Sakamoto, who was taking it in stride and not letting it thwart his efforts to interact with Issei as much as possible.  

When their game of three-on-three finally began, it was Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Yuda playing against Issei, Takahiro, and Sakamoto. The other two boys went over to keep score. 

Thanks to Oikawa’s serve, his team got three points in a row right from the start. 

But then Issei managed to get a point, doing so by completely blocking out Yuda’s spike. 

“Good job,” Sakamoto said as he sauntered over and smacked Issei right on the butt, giving it a quick squeeze.

That startled Issei, renewing his sense of discomfort. And he automatically glanced around to see if Takahiro had witnessed it. 

If looks could kill, Takahiro would have committed a murder right there in the middle of the court. His fists were balled up, his face was twisted angrily, and his eyes were dangerously dark. He was also clenching his jaw, grinding his teeth together.

It seemed like he was barely containing his rage.

Given another few seconds, he might actually tackle Sakamoto to the ground and attempt to commit that murder by hand. 

Issei hadn’t ever seen Takahiro look like that. So he quickly went to put a hand on his shoulder, speaking in a low, reassuring voice that no one aside from Takahiro could hear.

“It’s fine. Just let it go, it doesn’t matter.”

Takahiro grabbed the side of Issei’s shirt, taking a slow breath through his nose to calm himself. But his jaw was still clenched, and he kept his eyes locked on Sakamoto, who was currently focused on playfully teasing Yuda at the far side of the court. 

Across the net, Oikawa had been watching that whole situation play out. And he wasn’t the only one. 

Iwaizumi was standing next to Oikawa with the ball tucked under one arm. But instead of giving it back so the other team could serve, he leaned close to Oikawa and whispered something in his ear. 

In response, Oikawa nodded, crossing his arms. His expression had become rather serious.  

Meanwhile, Sakamoto finished telling Yuda a joke, and then he moved back into position as he clapped his hands together. “Let’s keep it moving, guys. It’s our serve.”

“We can’t play anymore,” Oikawa announced. “I hurt my ankle.”

“Really?” Issei looked at Oikawa’s ankle, which seemed totally fine. 

“Have one of those guys take over for you,” Sakamoto suggested, nodding towards the edge of the court, where Shido and Sawauchi were keeping score. 

“No, they can’t do that,” Oikawa said in a firm voice. “They both have stomach aches.”

“We do?” Shido asked, tilting his head in confusion. 

At the same time, Sawauchi suddenly wrapped his arms around his belly, as if the mere suggestion of a stomach ache was enough to give him one. 

“Well, we’ll just play two-on-two then,” Sakamoto said, glancing at Takahiro and waving him away. “Me and Matsukawa-kun can handle this ourselves.”

“As if,” Takahiro snapped, clinging even more tightly to Issei’s shirt and pulling him backwards a few steps. 

“I’m not playing anymore,” Iwaizumi stated matter-of-factly, tossing the ball towards the large rolling basket in the corner of the room. “I’ve gotta help Oikawa with his ankle.”

“Let’s all go rest in our room for a while,” Oikawa said, putting an arm over Iwaizumi’s shoulders and holding one foot up, as if he couldn’t walk on his own. Then he held his other arm out towards Issei, beckoning him to come closer. 

Issei was a bit confused, but he still went to stand at Oikawa’s side, holding his waist as he helped him walk out of the gym. Takahiro followed close behind them.

Shido and Sawauchi left the gym as well, and so did Yuda, though he was the only one to properly say goodbye to Sakamoto first.  

After that, Oikawa limped along across the field that was between the gym and the ryokan, with Issei and Iwaizumi supporting him from both sides. The other first-years were right behind them. None of them said anything as they slowly made their way to the ryokan, going inside together through the back door, which led right into the hallway that would take them to their room.

Oikawa kept limping until they made it to their room, at which point he let go of his friends and went back to walking normally, as if his ankle was totally fine after all. Then he slid the door shut, pulled the curtains closed on both windows, and moved to sit in the middle of the room, waving everyone over to join him. 

Once everyone was sitting in a circle on the floor, Oikawa looked at Takahiro, who was still fuming with anger. And then he stared at Issei expectantly.

“What’s the deal with your former captain? Is he, like, your ex or something?”

“Of course not!” Takahiro shouted defensively, like Issei’s honor was at stake. “He would never date a creep like him!”

“Try to keep your voice down,” Issei said as he looked around, knowing the walls in the ryokan weren’t thick enough to fully contain loud noises. 

“A creep?” Yuda glanced from Takahiro to Issei in disbelief, with his eyes full of concern and confusion. “What makes him a creep?”

Issei rubbed the side of his neck, not wanting to talk about what happened at Sakamoto’s party. He had long since put all that behind him. Discussing it would only make the rest of the week more awkward, so he didn’t say anything, and he was kind of hoping Takahiro wouldn’t say anything either. 

However, that wasn’t the case. 

“He did creepy stuff to Issei when we were at his birthday party,” Takahiro explained, scowling and crossing his arms. “Trust me—he’s a terrible person.”

As he processed those words, Yuda covered his mouth. Then he stared at Issei apologetically. “Oh my god, I had no idea. That’s . . .  I thought you guys went home because you were sick. I’m so, so, so sorry. I won’t be friends with him anymore, okay?”  

“It wasn’t even that bad,” Issei muttered, hunching his shoulders and avoiding everyone’s eyes. “Let’s not make a big deal about nothing.”

“Whatever he did, it obviously had a lasting impact on you,” Oikawa said as he stared at Issei from across the circle. “The way you act around him . . . I’ve never seen you so tense and uncomfortable before.”

Iwaizumi nodded, and then he looked at Takahiro, studying him for a brief moment. “I thought you were gonna kick that guy’s ass.”

“I still might,” Takahiro said through his teeth, balling his fists up. “That creep needs to learn a lesson.”

Iwaizumi cracked his knuckles. “Well, let me know if you want some backup.”

“No one’s kicking anyone’s ass,” Issei insisted, doing his best to remain composed, though he was starting to feel rather humiliated and anxious.

Not only did he think things were getting blown way out of proportion, he was also reliving the night of Sakamoto’s party in his mind, which made his skin crawl. He resisted the urge to wipe his mouth, as if Sakamoto’s lips had been pressed against them again.   

“He grabbed your butt in front of everyone just now,” Takahiro said, gesturing angrily. “If he thinks he can get away with that, who knows what he’ll try next!”

“People just do that to their teammates sometimes,” Issei mumbled, wanting to convince himself as much as the others. “I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it.”

“I’ve never grabbed anyone’s butt during a game,” Shido said, adjusting the middle-part of his bangs as he spoke. “Never seen anyone else do that, either.”

Sawauchi was sitting with his knees pulled up to his chest, and he nodded in agreement, appearing much more anxious than usual. 

“He gives off a very creepy vibe,” Oikawa remarked. “Really, Mattsun, I don’t like the way he looks at you.”

The conversation was becoming too much to handle, so Issei sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, speaking with his eyes closed. “Can I be honest with you guys?” 

Takahiro put a hand on Issei’s shoulder. “Yeah, of course.”

“You’re all being super fucking dramatic right now,” Issei said as he met Takahiro’s gaze, finding himself unable to look at anyone else. “I don’t feel like talking about this anymore, so I’d appreciate it a lot if we could just drop it, move on with our lives, and never talk about it again.”

As if he didn’t know what to say, Takahiro just stared at Issei for several seconds. 

Meanwhile, Oikawa and Iwaizumi glanced at each other, and then they looked around at everyone else in the room. A heavy silence had settled over all of them. 

And then Takahiro finally spoke, his voice hardly a whisper. “If that’s what you want.”

“It is,” Issei confirmed, getting to his feet. He desperately wanted to escape the tight feeling in his chest. “I’m gonna go get some fresh air.”

Takahiro started to get up. “I’ll come with you.”

“Don’t.” Issei slid the door open, stepping out of the room. “I wanna be by myself.”

“Oh, uhm, okay.” Takahiro sat back down and folded his hands on his lap, staring at the tatami flooring directly in front of him. “I’ll just . . . wait here.”

The disappointment in Takahiro’s voice made Issei feel a pang of guilt, but he really needed to be alone. He didn’t like anything about how things had just gone. His personal business had been broadcasted to all the other first-years, and it was made to come across much worse than he felt it had actually been, not that he wanted to spell out exactly what happened at Sakamoto’s party. That would have been even more embarrassing for him. 

As he mentally waded through his emotions, he made his way outside, deciding to walk along the trail that led away from the ryokan. It was the one he and his teammates had been running on each evening. So he was familiar enough with it to lose himself in thought as he went, without losing his way.

There were tall trees along the path on both sides, their branches draping across the space overhead, providing Issei with plenty of shade. That helped temper the warm, humid air around him. But the forest was full of bugs, and while the cicadas mostly kept to themselves as they sang their songs, there were beetles and flies that Issei had to swat at now and then when they landed on him. 

After nearly twenty minutes of walking, he made it to a bench that marked the halfway point of the trail. He could choose to turn around or follow the rest of the loop. But he didn’t want to go back yet, so he sat on the bench and closed his eyes, appreciating the serene feeling that came with being out in the wilderness. 

Behind him, there was a spacious glade that didn’t have any trees in it, making way for a big, grassy meadow that led up to a wide river. He could just barely hear it flowing over the sound of the cicadas. And when he and his teammates ran past this spot each evening, fireflies could be seen flying in and out of the tall grass. They were even easier to spot once it was fully dark. 

Over the previous week, Issei and the other first-years had come back out there with flashlights almost every night, just so they could watch the fireflies flicker and fly around. And from the middle of that meadow, they had a fantastic view of the nighttime sky, which revealed the stars in much greater detail than could ever be seen from the city. 

It made them all feel things they couldn’t put into words, though Sawauchi always refused to go along. He was afraid of the dark. And even though Takahiro had supposedly outgrown that same exact fear, he tended to stick close to Issei the entire time they were out there wandering around at night, when the cicadas didn’t sing and the forest was eerily silent.

But during the day, the cicadas were loud and the forest was full of life, so Issei almost didn’t notice the sound of a twig breaking. Hearing it made him open his eyes, and he looked around, feeling a sense of apprehension shoot through him when he found the source.

Sakamoto was standing a little ways up the trail, having paused right after stepping on the twig, though he grinned and playfully held his hands up when Issei spotted him.

“Hey, you caught me. I was trying to surprise you.”

The forest instantly felt isolated rather than peaceful, and Issei really wished there was someone else there with him. “How did you know I was here?”  

“I saw you leave by yourself earlier,” Sakamoto replied with a shrug, approaching the bench. “I didn’t want you getting lost out here, so I followed you to make sure you were okay.”

“Oh,” Issei said, eying Sakamoto warily. “The main trail goes in a loop. As long as you always go left, it leads right back around.”

“I guess you’re more familiar with this area than I am,” Sakamoto said as he reached the wooden bench, sitting close enough to Issei that their thighs were almost touching. “This is nice, isn’t it? We’ve finally got a chance to be alone. Hanamaki-kun always . . . He has a nasty habit of interrupting us, doesn’t he? And he’s even more obnoxious than he used to be. Reminds me of those annoying little dogs that are all bark, no bite—the ones that act really tough, even though a single kick would send them flying across the room.”

“He’s never too far away,” Issei murmured as he looked down at his hands, which had become cold and clammy.

He desperately hoped Takahiro would show up, like he always did. 

“Yes, he’s very persistent. And very rude, if you ask me,” Sakamoto said, scooting closer to Issei, so that their arms and legs were pressed together. “Personally, I think he’s holding you back.”

Issei’s whole body tensed up, and his heart started racing, making his throat feel tight. He could hardly speak.

“From what?” 

“Being with me,” Sakamoto replied in a soft voice.

Then he suddenly took Issei’s hand, holding it firmly between his own.

“Listen, Matsukawa-kun, don’t you think it’s strange that we wound up at the same training camp? I mean, when you said you’d never date me and didn’t wanna see me again, I tried to accept that. I really did. As much as it hurt, I did my best to stay away from you. But I never stopped liking you. And now, here we are. It seems like fate, doesn’t it? Like we’re meant to be together.”

Issei was trying to pull his hand away, but Sakamoto wouldn’t let go. And he was confused about when exactly he had said those things, because as far as he could recall, he never worked up the nerve to flat out reject Sakamoto’s confession.

There hadn’t even been an opportunity.

He didn’t hear from him again after that day, and he never felt the need to initiate contact. It was preferable to just pretend the confession never happened in the first place. 

“Can I tell you something?” Sakamoto kept a desperately firm grip on Issei’s hand. “When I thought I couldn’t have you, it made me want you even more. It was like . . . a challenge or something, you know? And now I’ve got the perfect chance to win you over.”

Panic was starting to coil itself around Issei’s body. He didn’t like being in this situation, and he couldn’t come up with anything to say. He was at a total loss for words. 

“I’m always thinking about you,” Sakamoto continued, bringing Issei’s hand to his lips and kissing the back of it. “About what it would be like to be with you.”

Issei’s stomach lurched, but he couldn’t move. His entire body was so incredibly cold and heavy, like it was filled with solid ice, though it also didn’t feel like he was actually there. The loud chirping of the cicadas in the forest surrounding him seemed so far away. And his mind kept going blank, making it impossible to fully focus on what was happening or how he was going to get away. 

“I’ll admit that I’ve been with a few people since we last saw each other, but sometimes I pretended they were you—it always made it so much better.” Sakamoto kissed Issei’s hand again. And then, after a brief moment of hesitation, he brought it down towards his lap. “Feel how hard I am right now, just from sitting next to you.”

Before any contact was made, Issei jerked his hand away, successfully freeing it from Sakamoto’s grasp. 

“It’s okay, no one’s gonna see us,” Sakamoto said in a soothing voice, reaching to brush the back of his fingers against Issei’s cheek. “We can do whatever we want out here.”

No matter how many times Issei told himself to get up and run, all he could do was sit there in silence, wearing a passive expression that didn’t accurately reflect how he was feeling. He was frozen again, though the adrenaline rushing through his body was making him tremble.  

Sakamoto grabbed Issei’s face with both hands and turned it so that they were looking at each other. Then he leaned in a little bit, smirking as he glanced down at Issei’s mouth.

“Was I the last person you kissed?”

Issei still couldn’t bring himself to speak. But even if he could, he wouldn’t have wanted to answer that question. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Sakamoto said, leaning in even more, until his and Issei’s lips were lightly pressed together. 

Something inside of Issei snapped, and he was finally able to move on his own accord, so he pulled his face away and scooted to the far side of the bench in one fluid motion. In his haste, he almost slid off the very end of it. 

“You’re so cute when you’re acting all shy and nervous,” Sakamoto said as he moved to sit right beside Issei again. Then he adjusted himself. “God, I’m so hard right now.”

Issei clenched his fists and looked away. There was bile rising in his throat, burning it and making him feel like he couldn’t breathe, though the tightness in his chest was also contributing to that. 

“Let me show you how good I can make you feel,” Sakamoto murmured as he leaned in for another kiss.

At the same time, he grabbed the waistband at the front of Issei’s gym shorts and tugged on it, like he was going to pull it down. 

Reacting much faster than he would have thought possible, Issei slapped Sakamoto’s hand away and pushed him as hard as he could, knocking him to the ground in the middle of the dirt path. His whole body was trembling even worse than before as he covered the front of his shorts with his hands. 

Then he stared at Sakamoto, waiting to see if he was finally going to stop, and wondering what to do if he wouldn’t.

Sakamoto stood up and wiped off the back of his shorts, smiling in a depraved way that sent a shiver of fear down Issei’s spine.

“I like it when you play hard to get, Matsukawa-kun. It’s really turning me on.”

Someone cleared their throat. “Uhm, am I interrupting something?”

The unexpected voice made Sakamoto spin around.

There on the path was Oikawa, sassily standing with one hand on his hip. It seemed like he had just come around the bend. He studied Issei briefly, and when his gaze shifted to Sakamoto, it became harsh and narrow. 

“What are you doing out here?” Sakamoto asked, looking unsettled by the sudden appearance of another person, though it seemed more like irritation or impatience rather than guilt. “I thought you hurt your ankle.”

“I made a miraculous recovery.” Oikawa flashed a sharp, insincere smile. “And what exactly are you doing out here?”

“We’re just catching up with each other,” Sakamoto replied haughtily. “Why don’t you give us some privacy.”

“Why don’t you wander off into the woods and find a cliff to fall from,” Oikawa retorted. “I’m sure you wouldn’t be missed.”

“Come on,” Sakamoto said, turning around to hold a hand out towards Issei, who was still covering his crotch. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

Issei shook his head, slowly moving to cross his arms.

“Hmm, looks like he doesn’t wanna go anywhere with you.” Oikawa was speaking in a patronizing manner, as if addressing a young child he didn’t particularly care for. “Now, I’ll give you the count of ten to get out of my sight. If you’re still here after that, we’re going to have ourselves a serious problem. One . . . two . . . three . . .”

Sakamoto let out an irritated huff and hurried down the path, glancing back at Issei a few times as he went. 

“Four . . . five . . . six . . .” Oikawa watched Sakamoto disappear around the bend. “Well, that takes care of that,” he said as he walked towards the bench. “Are you okay?” 

Issei nodded, focusing on a big tree that was on the other side of the path, directly across from him. He was dealing with a wide array of emotions, all of which were making him feel overwhelmed and awkward.

He didn’t want to look Oikawa in the eye just then. 

“We’ve all been trying to find you,” Oikawa remarked as he came closer and sat down beside Issei, though he left plenty of space between them and stared straight ahead. “Makki had a bad feeling. Guess his intuition was right, huh?”

Issei finally found his voice, but it came out very quiet. “Nothing happened.”

“Hm?” Oikawa turned his head and examined Issei with that shrewd gaze of his—the one that made it seem as if he could figure out anything about anyone. “You’re shaking like a leaf.”

“Nothing happened,” Issei repeated, saying it a little louder. 

“I heard you the first time,” Oikawa said, sounding much more delicate than he usually did. “But you know, I saw him kiss you. And I saw him try to—”

“Nothing happened,” Issei repeated once again.

“Alright, yeah, I got it. Message received.” Oikawa put a hand on Issei’s shoulder from the other side of the bench. “I’m just . . . sorry I didn’t get here sooner. I saw you guys from up the path, and I hesitated at first. Wasn’t sure if—”

“It’s fine,” Issei interjected, feeling the need to move his body in order to release all the tension it was holding.

So he got to his feet and hurried down the path, away from where Sakamoto had gone. He didn’t want to run into him on the way back to the ryokan. 

Oikawa quickly caught up and walked at Issei’s side, glancing at him as they passed through a patch of sunlight that was breaking through the branches above them.

“Is it safe to assume you don’t want me talking about what I saw?”

“If you wouldn’t mind,” Issei mumbled, crossing his arms as he stared at the path just ahead of his feet.

He was still hardly aware of his surroundings. None of it felt real, and at that moment, neither did he. 

“My lips are sealed,” Oikawa promised, pretending to zip his mouth shut.

And surprisingly, he actually stayed quiet the entire time they were walking together.

Issei also remained quiet, his eyes never leaving the path. But if he had bothered to look at Oikawa at all, he would have seen the serious expression on his face and the cold, calculating anger in his eyes. 

When they made it to the ryokan, lunch was about to be served. So they went to the dining hall after gathering the other first-years, all of whom had been milling around outside, trying to find Issei at Takahiro’s insistence. 

The large dining hall was much louder and stuffier than usual thanks to the arrival of the other team, and they were the last in line for getting their food. 

“So, where were you just now?” Takahiro asked as he flipped his empty plate in his hands. It was almost their turn at the buffet-style table, where plenty of food was left. No one had gotten seconds yet.   

“Walking in the woods,” Issei replied curtly, though he hadn’t meant to speak in such a harsh manner. He just didn’t want to explain himself any further.  

“Oh. Okay,” Takahiro said, looking and sounding dejected. 

There was no more conversation between them as they got their food and found an empty table, sitting at it with the other first-years. 

Issei wasn’t fully present during the meal, and neither was Takahiro as he took bite after bite in a mechanical manner. 

That meant they didn’t notice Oikawa’s pensive countenance. He was beside Iwaizumi at the end of the table, and as he ate his food, he was strangely silent. His gaze kept shifting from Issei to Sakamoto, who was at a crowded table on the opposite side of the room. And there was still a steely look in his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” Iwaizumi asked, stealing a piece of meat from Oikawa’s plate and popping it in his mouth, which he had already done multiple times in an attempt to get a reaction. “You’re being weird.”

“Hmm?” Oikawa sat up taller and forced a smile, though it faltered slightly when he realized some of his food had been taken. Then he casually stole a few pieces of meat from Iwaizumi’s plate to get even. “Nothing’s wrong, Iwa-chan. I’m just enjoying this wonderful chicken. It’s perfectly cooked, don’t you think?”

“Yeah, it’s good,” Iwaizumi replied slowly, giving Oikawa a suspicious glance. He clearly didn’t believe him. 

Aside from some cheerful chatter between Yuda and Shido, there wasn’t much conversation between anyone after that, and they all finished their lunch less than twenty minutes later.

“That creep won’t stop staring at you,” Takahiro whispered, glaring at Sakamoto like he wanted him to disappear.

“Just ignore him,” Issei said in a low voice, keeping his eyes on his mostly empty plate.

That was his go-to strategy for getting through unpleasant situations. If he did his best to ignore Sakamoto for the rest of the week, he wouldn’t have to deal with him anymore or acknowledge what he had done. He just needed to make sure there were no opportunities for them to be alone again.

“It’s hard to ignore him when he keeps looking over here,” Takahiro grumbled, gathering his dishes and getting to his feet. 

Issei did the same, quietly following Takahiro to the dish station, where they left their plates and cups. Then they walked out of the dining hall together, soon joined by the other first-years. They were all heading outside.  

The first round of practice games were supposed to happen shortly after lunch, and despite how much Issei had been looking forward to that all week, he was dreading it now. He didn’t want to interact with Sakamoto, even from across the court. 

That sense of dread settled in his stomach, making it ache and burn, as if he were going to have to forcefully empty it one way or another. And it got even worse when Coach Mizoguchi called everyone over to the gym for warm-ups. 

“Hey,” Issei said, glancing at Takahiro as they walked across the field that was behind the ryokan. “I think I’m gonna sit the practice games out, just for today.”

“Why?” Takahiro asked with a frown, stopping at the entrance of the gym, which they had just reached. 

“I’m not up for it,” Issei replied, trying to act casual. “Kinda feel like puking.”

“I wonder if it’s something we ate,” Takahiro mused, though he caught sight of Sakamoto coming towards the gym a moment later, and then he noticed Issei’s shoulders lift and hunch forward.

Issei was practically folding in on himself, which made it pretty obvious that he didn’t want to be seen. But he wasn’t actually doing that on purpose. In fact, he thought he was successfully acting casual.

Without wasting a second, Takahiro moved closer to Issei, blocking Sakamoto from his view. “Go on back to our room, alright? I’ll let the coaches know about your stomach ache.”

“Thanks,” Issei said, turning away and quickly walking towards the ryokan, all while being careful to avoid looking in Sakamoto’s direction.

The pain in his stomach was nearly unbearable now. 

But once he made it safely to the room he and the other first-years were sharing, his stomach ache got much better. And then he began to feel silly for running away and hiding. He realized it would be ridiculous to let Sakamoto’s presence ruin the last week of training camp, especially after the first week had been so enjoyable. 

However, even with that knowledge, he couldn’t bring himself to go back out to the gym and join his teammates. So he stayed in the room while everyone else enjoyed playing multiple practice games. 

During that time, Issei played cards by himself and thought about how he was going to get through the rest of the week. 

But he didn’t have a whole lot of options. 

Starting with the most obvious, he could continue doing what he was doing, avoiding Sakamoto and subsequently missing out on all the practice games he wanted to participate in. This was, of course, a solution that was neither practical nor desirable.  

Alternatively, he could speak with Coach Irihata in private and express the whys and wherefores of his discomfort, though doing that would be terribly embarrassing for him. Not to mention how mortified he would be if his negative experiences with Sakamoto became common knowledge. 

And finally, he could confront Sakamoto, making it clear that he wanted nothing to do with him and insisting that he leave him alone. But it wasn’t in his nature to be confrontational, and he had a feeling he would struggle to speak in that situation, just like he struggled to speak when they were in the forest earlier that day.

After thinking in circles about his meager options, he became frustrated with the hopelessness of it all, and he was also tired of playing cards by himself.

When he was in the middle of putting the deck of cards away, he heard the door slide open behind him, closing right afterwards. He figured the practice games had finally ended. So he looked over his shoulder with a grin, expecting Takahiro to be there.  

But it wasn’t Takahiro who came barging into the room. 

It was Sakamoto, and he stomped right up to Issei, looming over him angrily. “You’re a real backstabber, Matsukawa-kun.”

Feeling rather startled, Issei dropped the cards all over the floor and scrambled to back away from Sakamoto, quickly finding himself against the wall of the small room. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t play dumb.” Sakamoto came closer, staring down at Issei like he wanted to kick him. “I know you’re spreading rumors about me. Making shit up, trying to make me seem like a bad guy. Why else would Yuda be giving me the cold shoulder out of nowhere?!”

“I never—”

“Shut up,” Sakamoto hissed, slamming his fist into the wall right above Issei’s head. It was a wonder he didn’t break a hole in it. “I’m really, really, really pissed off right now. I can’t believe you would talk shit about me after everything I did for you in middle school. You’re ungrateful, and you know what else? You’re a fucking rat.”

Issei’s mouth was hanging open slightly, and his eyes were wide. 

“Who else did you tell?” Sakamoto demanded as he squatted down, firmly grabbing Issei’s jaw so he couldn’t look away.

“I didn’t say anything about you to anyone,” Issei whispered, barely managing to get the words out.

His throat was tight, his heart was hammering, and he could feel his body freezing up. He was being forced to meet Sakamoto’s gaze, which was so unpleasant that it was causing him pain.  

After a few seconds, Sakamoto sighed, still holding Issei’s jaw as they stared at each other. “You know what? I believe you, Matsukawa-kun. You’re not the kind of guy to spread rumors and rat people out over nothing.”

Issei didn’t respond. For the second time that day, his voice was hiding somewhere deep inside of him, leaving him unable to speak.  

“Maybe it was that pretty boy setter. The one who interrupted us earlier,” Sakamoto clarified, finally letting go of Issei’s face.

Then he clicked his tongue and ruffled Issei’s hair, as if that was supposed to make up for what he had just done.

“Will you talk to Yuda for me, just to clear things up a bit and make sure he knows I’m not a bad guy? And don’t let anyone else believe any rumors about me. You wouldn’t want that, right?”

Agreeing would be the easiest way to defuse Sakamoto’s remaining anger, so Issei nodded weakly. 

“Good, I’m glad you’re on my side,” Sakamoto said, turning to leave the room. “We’re about to go for a run, so I better get going.”

And just like that, he was gone. 

But in the very next moment, Iwaizumi appeared in the doorway, watching Sakamoto walk down the hall with a look of grouchy disapproval.

“What was he doing here?”

Rather than answer, Issei started cleaning up the cards that were scattered across the tatami mat flooring, though his hands were shaking just hard enough to hinder his efforts. 

Iwaizumi silently studied Issei from the doorway, knitting his eyebrows together like he was concerned. And when he realized he wasn’t going to get a reply, he came into the room, kneeling down to help pick the cards up.

“Coach Irihata told me to come see if you’re feeling better.”

Issei hummed in acknowledgement, not looking up from what he was doing. 

“We’re about to go for a run. I think he wants you out there with us,” Iwaizumi said, watching Issei’s shaky hands struggle to get the deck of cards into their case. He ended up taking them and doing it himself.

Then he tossed the case at the small end table that was in the corner of the room, looking at Issei afterwards. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah, my stomach feels much better now,” Issei mumbled, standing up and wiping his sweaty palms against his gym shorts. He quickly decided that he would go run with his teammates. A bit of exercise would probably help him calm down, and more than that, he didn’t want to be alone. “I’ll come run with you guys.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Iwaizumi said as he crossed his arms. “You seem kinda . . . I dunno . . . freaked out, or something. Did that guy—”

“I’m fine,” Issei insisted, hurrying towards the door. “Let’s just go.”

And so, the two of them made their way outside, joining the other first-years at the start of the trail. They all greeted Issei, and he nodded at them without saying anything. It seemed as if he and Iwaizumi had made it just in time.

Coach Mizoguchi blew the whistle, and they all took off running, drumming their feet against the dirt path that led into the forest. It had rained the previous night, so the trail was a bit muddy, with puddles here and there that needed to be dodged. 

Because he wanted to stay far away from Sakamoto, Issei ran as fast as he could the entire time, leading the group.

He had never kept that pace up for so long before, but he couldn’t slow down. He just kept going faster and faster.

The burn in his calves and thighs was cathartic, releasing the adrenaline and tension that had built up inside of him throughout the day.

Meanwhile, Takahiro pushed himself hard and kept pace with Issei, as did Oikawa and Iwaizumi, who were never far behind them. They accidentally left the rest of the first-years in the dust.

Far ahead of all the other boys, it ended up being just the four of them, each unknowingly lost in thought about the same problem. 

Once they got back from their run, it was time to hit the showers, but Issei wasn’t comfortable with that at all. He didn’t want Sakamoto to see him naked. After their creepy encounter earlier that day, followed by that unpleasant confrontation, bathing around him would be especially distressing.

He almost wanted to skip it altogether. 

However, he was quite sweaty from running in the heat, and much of the mud he kicked up was splattered all over the lower half of his legs. He really needed a shower—even if that meant risking another awkward situation.

So he went in with his friends and hoped for the best. 

To his relief, he didn’t see Sakamoto when he got in there and started soaping himself up. The shower area was only large enough to accommodate about twelve people at a time, and the current group was just Aoba Johsai’s first-years, most of whom decided to enjoy a bath before letting the next group take over.

“This is just what I needed,” Shido said, relaxing in the steaming hot water. He had a white washcloth on the top of his head, which kept his bangs out of his face.

Sawauchi was beside him, and across from them, Iwaizumi and Oikawa were both soaking with their eyes closed, resting their heads against the tile edge of the large bath. Pushing themselves so hard on the run had thoroughly worn them out. 

“Where are you going?” Takahiro asked as he stepped into the bath, briefly pausing to glance at Issei over his shoulder. “We’ve got at least another ten minutes in here before we get kicked out.”

“I’m really hungry,” Issei said, hurrying towards the changing rooms with his towel wrapped around his waist. He had just finished rinsing off, and he was afraid that Sakamoto was going to show up at any moment. “Gonna go see if dinner is ready yet.”

“Alright, I’ll be out there in a few minutes,” Takahiro said, lowering himself into the water. “Save me a seat.”

“Don’t go wandering around outside by yourself,” Oikawa cautioned, peeking an eye open. Everyone turned to stare at him, and he seemed to realize how strange that sounded. But he just grinned lightheartedly and played it off. “There might be bears, you know. It’s not safe to be out there alone.”

“That’s rich coming from you. Last week, you kept going outside by yourself to get another look at the stars, even after we already spent over an hour out at that meadow,” Iwaizumi said dryly. Then something occurred to him, and he frowned, speaking with concern that came across as irritation. “You haven’t seen a bear out there, have you?”

Sawauchi squeaked nervously, clutching his washcloth. 

“No, of course not,” Oikawa said, waving a hand dismissively and giving Sawauchi a reassuring smile. “I doubt there’s any bears out there, or anywhere in this area. But you know me—I like to be prepared.”

There was suspicion in Takahiro’s eyes as he stared at Oikawa, and then he looked at Issei, who was still standing near the changing rooms. 

At that point, Issei felt fairly certain that Oikawa wasn’t going to say anything about what happened with Sakamoto, so he turned around and left, not wanting Takahiro to press him for information. 

His yukata was waiting for him in the changing room. He quickly put it on, grabbing his dirty clothes and dropping them off before going to check on the status of dinner. 

He hadn’t been lying when he said he was really hungry, and he was pleased to discover that a large, flavorful meal was waiting in the dining room. It smelled heavenly.

And to make things even better, he was the first person there aside from the coaches, so he didn’t have to engage in any conversations. He could just eat and make his escape.

As far as he knew, Sakamoto and the rest were outside waiting for their turn in the bathhouse. The run had left them all too dirty to come into the ryokan and sit around on the tatami mats without showering first. 

But he still ate quickly just in case, nearly giving himself another stomach ache. And he got a small second helping before he dropped his plate off at the dish station. 

Then he headed for the hallway that led to his room.

The other first-years were also in the hallway, having just finished up in the bath. They were all wearing the plain blue yukata the ryokan had provided them with, which was a habit they had gotten into over the past week, usually changing into their pajamas right before going to bed. 

And they were on their way to eat dinner, but Takahiro stopped walking once he saw Issei, blocking his path.

“I need to talk to you,” he said. “You’ve been avoiding Creepymoto like your life depends on it, and I wanna know why.”

Issei sighed and grabbed Takahiro’s arm, pulling him down the hallway so they could speak in private. “Because that’s the best way to handle this situation.”

“Some things can’t be ignored,” Takahiro pointed out, letting Issei lead him into their room. Then he closed the door and turned around, getting a leery look on his face. “You know, you’ve been acting weird ever since you got back from your walk.”

Instead of giving a reply, Issei went over to where his bag was sitting near the back wall. Then he opened it up and pretended to look for something inside of it. 

After a few seconds, Takahiro spoke again, his tone slightly demanding. “Did something happen while you were out there?” 

Issei chewed the inside of his cheek as he thought about what to say. He didn’t want to lie, but he also wanted to avoid discussing the truth, mostly because he didn’t want Takahiro to do anything dramatic.

“I asked Oikawa about what you were doing when he found you,” Takahiro said, still standing on the other side of the room. 

Hearing that made Issei tense up. 

“He said you were just sitting on the bench, but that plastic smile of his always twitches when he’s hiding something,” Takahiro continued, crossing his arms. “Did you run into Creepymoto while you were out there?”

Issei knew the guilt of lying to his best friend would eat him up, so he decided to be honest. “Yeah.”

Takahiro frowned, and then he moved closer to Issei, squatting down beside him. “Did he say anything . . . creepy?”

Issei had given up on pretending to dig through his bag, and he twisted his mouth reluctantly, not wanting to answer. But his reaction was enough to raise concern. 

“What did he say?” Takahiro asked, his voice stiff.

“I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Tell me,” Takahiro insisted. 

Issei glanced at Takahiro, recognizing the protective rage that was radiating from his features, though there was also a trace of fear in his eyes.

“It wasn’t anything worth repeating.”

“Tell me,” Takahiro repeated firmly. 

“I already told you I don’t wanna talk about it,” Issei said, going over to the closet and pulling the futons out so he could set them up for everyone. That would give him something productive to do. 

“Just fucking tell me. Please, Issei, I need to know what he said. It’s gonna drive me crazy.” Takahiro’s expression was a mix of stubbornness, anger, and concern.

But then his eyes widened, growing fearful again.

“Wait . . . was it more than just talking? Did he do something to you?”

Issei continued setting up the futons, not saying anything. 

“Oh my god, he did, didn’t he?” Takahiro pulled some pillows out of the closet, aggressively throwing them at the futons Issei had already set up. It seemed like he needed to take his anger out on something. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Issei mumbled, getting the last of the futons ready. When he was done, he went to grab the blankets from the closet. 

However, Takahiro stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “I’m not gonna drop this until you give me a clear answer.”

“Look, I’m not gonna say this again.” Issei felt like he was about to lose his cool, but for the time being, his voice was still calm. And he over enunciated each word, gesturing with both hands to make his point.

“I—don’t—feel—like—talking—about—it. Is that clear enough for you?”

“Why won’t you just tell me?!” Takahiro shouted, struggling to contain his frustration.

Issei took a deep breath, slowly inhaling through his nose, and exhaling even more slowly through his mouth. Then he spoke in a perfectly calm voice, meeting Takahiro’s gaze.

“Why won’t you just drop it?”

After letting out a grouchy sound that was similar to a growl, Takahiro clenched his jaw and glanced away, speaking through his teeth. “Fine.”

Nearly thirty seconds passed without either of them saying anything else. They weren’t looking at each other, and there was an unpleasant tension in the air between them, worsening as the awkward silence dragged on and on.

“You know . . . I don’t appreciate the way you were talking to me just now,” Issei said as he messed with the sleeves of his yukata. “It was kinda rude.”

That seemed to hit Takahiro like a ton of bricks. For several seconds, he didn’t say anything, and he appeared to be feeling a little defensive.

But after he fully processed Issei’s words, he sighed in defeat, looking down guiltily. “You’re right. I was being an asshole, and you don’t deserve that. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t mind if you’re an asshole sometimes, as long as it’s not directed at me,” Issei teased, wanting to hurry up and smooth things over.

He never liked fighting with his best friend, and considering how difficult the day had been, he really needed to know that everything was okay between them.

“Should I direct it at Oikawa from now on?” Takahiro asked, cracking a slight grin.  

Issei nodded and let out a soft chuckle. “Yeah, that’s a great idea.”

They just stared at each other after that, resting in a brief silence that was much more comfortable than the previous one. 

Eventually, Takahiro walked backwards towards the door, pointing at it with his thumb. “Well, I’m gonna go eat before all the good stuff is gone.”

“Okay,” Issei said as he watched Takahiro leave the room. Then he finally got the blankets out of the closet and put each one on a futon. 

Less than an hour later, most of the first-years came to the room, having just finished their dinner. They all changed out of their yukata, putting their pajamas on instead, like Issei had done right before they got there. 

“Thanks for setting all the beds up,” Yuda said, collapsing face-down on his futon. 

Sawauchi was holding his elbow as he went over to his spot. Apparently, he had fallen on it during one of the practice games, though it wasn’t anything too serious. “Yeah, thank you.”

“You’re awesome,” Shido added, lying down with a tired sigh. 

“Where’s everyone else?” Issei asked, referring to Takahiro, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi, none of whom had come back with the others. 

“I dunno,” Yuda replied as he flipped onto his back, putting his hands behind his head and crossing his ankles. “They said they had to do something real quick.”

“That’s kinda weird,” Issei murmured to himself, wondering what they could be doing.

Then he shrugged it off and got the deck of cards out, holding them up. “Who wants to play?”

Everyone joined Issei for a few different card games. And despite how tired everyone was, they kept playing for a long time, wagering their spare change over the outcome of each match. 

But after almost two hours, Takahiro, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi still hadn’t come back to the room yet, and Issei started to get worried. So while his other teammates were getting themselves tucked in for the night, he decided to go look for them. He wouldn’t be able to sleep until he knew where they were.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, sliding the door open and pausing to look back at his teammates. “Do you guys want the light off?”

Yuda yawned and shook his head. “Nah, it’s okay. We’ll leave ‘em on until you get back.”

Shido hummed in agreement, putting his arm over his face to cover his eyes. And beside him, Sawauchi had already fallen asleep, having gone to bed halfway through the card games. 

Issei stepped out into the hallway, closing the door behind himself. To begin his search, he went to the restroom and checked the stalls, but nobody was in there. 

Then he went to the dining hall, but his friends weren’t there either. The only other place they might be was the bathhouse, so that’s where Issei went next, finding the room empty. 

Takahiro and the others didn’t seem to be anywhere, and Issei’s worry was growing. His imagination ran wild, making him wonder if they went outside to look at the stars together, getting themselves eaten by a bear in the process. He had been subconsciously concerned about bears ever since Oikawa mentioned them earlier.

However, the more rational part of his brain came to the conclusion that they might be in one of the other bedrooms, so he went and checked with the second-years.

But his friends weren’t there. 

And when he listened outside the door of his coaches’ room, he didn’t hear the voices of his friends. He only heard the coaches from both teams. They were loudly discussing how the practice games went that day—and it seemed like they were enjoying some drinks while they were at it. 

With great reluctance, Issei went to the opposite side of the ryokan, where the other three bedrooms were located. Many of his old middle school teammates were in the first room. They cornered him into a conversation so they could all catch up, since he hadn’t been around during the practice games.

It took nearly twenty minutes for him to find the right opportunity to excuse himself. 

Then he knocked on the door of the second room, hoping Sakamoto wouldn’t be the one to answer. 

Thankfully, it wasn’t Sakamoto who opened the door. It was the starting libero for the other team. 

“Hey, are any of my teammates in here?” Issei asked in a polite tone.  

The short, shaggy-haired boy shook his head, looking up at Issei with a casual grin. “Nope, just us in here. Oh, but if you see Sakamoto, can you tell him we’re looking for him? He went off by himself, like, two hours ago, and he still isn’t back yet. Knowing him, he’s probably in some quiet corner reading manga.”

“I’ll keep an eye out for him,” Issei said, getting an uneasy feeling in his stomach as he walked away. 

It didn’t bode well that Takahiro, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Sakamoto were all missing at the same time.

Shaking off his nerves, Issei continued his search. The third bedroom on that side of the ryokan didn’t have anyone in it, and after circling the entire building again, he went back to his room to see if the others had returned while he was gone. 

But they hadn’t.

“They might be out at the meadow. If I wasn’t so tired, I’d go out there with you so we could check,” Yuda mumbled, followed by a yawn. He was barely still awake, and the other two boys were already asleep. It was getting late. “Or maybe they went to the gym to sneak in some extra practice.”

“You’re probably right. I’m sure they’ll get bored of that soon and come back,” Issei said, lingering near the door as he internally debated whether or not he should go outside and look for them, though he really didn’t want to wander around in the dark by himself. 

Before he could come to a decision, he heard voices out in the hallway. So he peeked his head out the door, and then he was met with the sight of three shadowy figures sneaking past the room the coaches were in. 

The hallway wasn’t that well lit, but Issei recognized who they were right away. And he was quite relieved to see them. 

When they discovered Issei standing in the doorway of their room, they all gasped and jumped backwards a few steps, nearly tripping over each other from how surprised they were. 

“Damn, you nearly gave me a heart attack,” Takahiro exclaimed as he steadied himself, with Iwaizumi and Oikawa standing at his sides. 

“Where were you guys?” Issei asked, stepping aside to let them pass. 

The three of them exchanged furtive glances as they came into the room and closed the door. Then they took off their yukata and put on their pajamas, still not having answered Issei’s question, nor were they looking directly at him.

With how they were acting, they might as well have written GUILTY across their foreheads.

“We were taking a fat shit,” Takahiro finally said, going over to his futon and crawling under the covers, as if he were going right to sleep. 

“All of you were?” Issei raised an eyebrow, feeling a surge of irritation over the obvious lie he had just been told. “At the same time?”

Oikawa was looking down at his nails as he stood near his discarded yukata. “What can we say, our colons are all synced up.”

“That’s such a fucking weird thing to say,” Iwaizumi muttered as he shook his head, gingerly rubbing his left forearm as he crossed the room. He had to step over Yuda in order to reach his futon.

Meanwhile, Issei went to sit next to Takahiro, staring at him with a serious expression. “I know you weren’t in the bathroom.”

Takahiro peeked one eye open, meeting Issei’s gaze for several seconds, as if he were weighing his options. He could come clean, or he could double down and cling to his lie.

Issei waited patiently for an explanation.

However, Takahiro didn’t give one, choosing the secret third option: he just settled in under the blankets and pretended to be asleep, essentially ignoring Issei’s presence. 

At that point, Issei looked over at Iwaizumi, feeling a strangely frantic need to know the truth. “Was anyone else with you guys?”

“Of course not,” Iwaizumi said as he covered his eyes with his left arm, which had a few shallow scratches on it, running from his elbow to his wrist.

“What happened to your arm?” Issei asked, squinting to get a better look. 

Iwaizumi didn’t answer. He just pulled the blanket over his head, hiding himself completely. 

And then Issei looked at Oikawa, hoping he could get some answers from him. But that didn’t seem likely. 

Oikawa had already tucked himself in, and his eyes were closed. He was even pretending to snore.  

Feeling a fresh wave of irritation wash over him, Issei went to sit near the top of Oikawa’s futon, unable to stop himself from calling him out. “I know you’re not asleep yet, faker.”

The corner of Oikawa’s mouth twitched, like he was holding back a guilty smile. 

“Where were you guys just now?” Issei asked, flicking Oikawa on the forehead, like he had seen Iwaizumi do so many times.

In response, Oikawa sucked in his cheeks and screwed his eyes shut extra tight. 

“You look like you just sucked on a lemon,” Issei observed dryly, giving three more flicks in a row. “If you don’t answer me, I’m gonna take a picture of you and put copies of it all over school.”

Hearing that made Oikawa’s eyes fly open, and then he pouted at Issei like a petulant child, rubbing the red spot on his forehead.

“Who do you think you are, flicking me like that? And don’t you dare take an unflattering photo of me.”

Issei calmly repeated his earlier question, surprising himself with his own persistence. “Where were you guys just now?”

“I’m sensing an accusation—a very baseless, random accusation—which honestly, is a lot to deal with at the end of a long day,” Oikawa said, rolling onto his side and leaning up on one elbow. That made it easier for him to give Issei a mildly scolding stare. “Now, if you’re done bothering me, I’d like to go to sleep.”

“You guys disappeared for hours,” Issei pointed out, barely managing to suppress his frustration and keep his voice calm. “Do you really expect me to believe you were in the bathroom that whole time?”

“Is this a jealousy issue, Mattsun?” Oikawa sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Look, I’m sorry you didn’t get to hang out in the bathroom with us, but it was very spur of the moment. It’s not my fault your colon didn’t sync up with ours.”

“For the love of god, stop saying stuff about my colon,” Iwaizumi grumbled, reaching over to punch Oikawa in the arm from underneath his blanket. 

Across the room, Takahiro snorted, covering his mouth afterwards.  

“At least tell me if you guys did something that might get you in trouble,” Issei insisted, getting to his feet and putting his hands on his hips. He felt like he was dealing with mischievous toddlers rather than teenagers.

“Why would we get in trouble for taking a long time in the bathroom?” Takahiro asked, sounding perfectly serious. “Is constipation a crime now?”

“Guess we better eat lots of fiber,” Oikawa said, tucking his lips in afterwards to keep himself from laughing. 

Iwaizumi sighed irritably, peeking out at Issei from underneath his blanket. “I’m not associated with them.”

“Why are you all being so loud? Some of us are trying to sleep,” Shido mumbled grumpily, grabbing his phone and checking the time. Their conversation had finally woken him up. “It’s almost eleven. If you guys don’t shut the lights off and shut up, Coach Mizoguchi is gonna come yell at us again.”

Without saying another word, Issei turned off the lights and went to lie down on his futon, turning his body so that he was facing away from Takahiro and the other two liars.

Since they obviously weren’t going to be honest, he gave up on trying to talk to them. 

But as he lay awake thinking things over for the next couple of hours, his irritation became full-blown anger, and beneath that anger was a whole lot of pain. Even after everything Sakamoto had put him through that day, he was most bothered by what happened between him and his friends at the end of it.

He had been excluded from whatever they were really doing, he had been lied to, and he had been treated like someone they didn’t respect. 

He really didn’t like the way that felt. 

Being at odds with Oikawa and Iwaizumi didn’t actually bother him too much—he wasn’t close enough with them to feel the sting of betrayal in the lies they told. But being lied to and ignored by Takahiro was the worst. It left him in a very unhappy, anxious, disheartened state of mind. 

And it didn’t help that he was completely exhausted. That always magnified his emotions, making everything feel so much worse, as if the world was crumbling all around him.  

If it were just him and Takahiro there, he probably would have wanted to wake him up and work things out right away, because he wouldn’t be able to sleep well otherwise. But he didn’t think he could properly express what he was feeling in the presence of everyone else. 

So he just silently stewed in his miserable, spiraling thoughts, until he was finally able to drift off. 

Throughout the night, Issei tossed and turned in his sleep. He kept having bad dreams. In the last one, Sakamoto was following him around at school, and then he kissed him in front of the entire volleyball club.

That was enough to make Issei wake with a start. He stared up at the ceiling as he calmed himself down, eventually looking around at his teammates, all of whom were still fast asleep.    

Takahiro’s body was completely hidden beneath his blanket, though his pinkish-brown hair was peeking out at the top. Sawauchi was curled up in a ball, Shido was sleeping with his head underneath his pillow, and Yuda was all sprawled out, with his feet taking over Iwaizumi’s empty futon. 

As for Iwaizumi, he had moved onto Oikawa’s futon. And he was once again spooning him. They were also sharing Oikawa’s pillow, looking rather peaceful, like they were meant to sleep that close to each other. 

The room was quiet aside from a few faint snores, and there were gentle rays of sunlight filtering in through the windows, revealing that the wooden panels on the outer wall of the hallway had already been opened up to let fresh air circulate through the ryokan. That happened around five o’clock each morning, not long after the sun began to rise. 

Despite how he felt before falling asleep, Issei’s anger over being lied to had already dissipated, leaving him sometime during the night. He had never been one to hold a grudge. But he knew he still needed to talk things through with Takahiro, which would be easier to do if he got a little more sleep.  

So he rolled onto his side, reaching a hand under Takahiro’s blanket and feeling around, until he found Takahiro’s arm. Then he pressed the back of his hand against it. That brought him some comfort, helping him clear the bad dreams out of his mind. 

He fell asleep again after that. 

But before too long, he was awoken by the sound of indistinct whispers. 

He drowsily reached for Takahiro, who was no longer beside him. Once he realized that, he opened his eyes, and the first thing he saw was Takahiro, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi huddled together on Oikawa’s futon. They were speaking in low voices. 

It seemed like everyone else was still sleeping. 

Issei sat up and slowly crawled across the room, carefully climbing over Yuda so that he could sit on Iwaizumi’s futon. That put him right behind Takahiro and the others. They all had their backs turned to him, and he was pretty sure he heard someone mention Sakamoto. 

“What are you guys talking about?” Issei asked, his voice thick with sleep. 

Takahiro jumped in surprise, quickly turning around. Oikawa did the same. Iwaizumi also seemed a little startled, though his reaction was the most subdued. 

“We were . . . uh . . .” Takahiro scratched the back of his head, looking around the room to avoid Issei’s gaze. 

“Strategizing,” Oikawa said, flashing a smile and blinking innocently. “For today’s practice games.”

Issei glanced at Iwaizumi, who nodded in agreement. 

That seemed like a lie, which made all of Issei’s anger return to him, rushing through his body faster than a flash of lightning. It also made him feel like the three of them were purposely excluding him again, and that hurt much worse the second time around. 

So he just rolled his eyes and got up, heading towards the doorway and putting his slippers on. 

“Where are you going?” Takahiro asked, quickly getting up and going over to put his own slippers on. 

“Gotta pee,” Issei replied as he slid the door open, walking through it without looking back. 

“I’ll come with you,” Takahiro said, joining Issei in the hallway. 

“Wouldn’t you rather go with Oikawa and Iwaizumi, since you guys have such a special bond now,” Issei muttered irritably. 

Takahiro frowned, not saying anything as they turned the corner, heading towards the restroom that was on the far side of the building. He opened the door for Issei once they reached it. 

Then they both walked inside, and Takahiro went over to the urinals to relieve himself. 

Instead of using one of the urinals, Issei went into a stall, only because he didn’t want to pee next to someone who had pissed him off multiple times in the last twenty-four hours. His anger was burning bright inside of him. 

And rather than wanting to work things out, like he had the previous night, he was fine with letting it fester for a while. He wanted Takahiro to feel bad about lying to him. 

When he was done relieving himself, he flushed the toilet and lingered in the stall for nearly a minute. He was kind of hoping that Takahiro would take the hint and go back without him so he could be alone. 

But a small part of him was glad that Takahiro was still there when he finally came out to wash his hands, despite how much he felt like acting aloof and isolating himself. 

“You’re upset,” Takahiro noted from where he was leaning against the wall, between the urinals and the mirror that hung over the sink. 

“Yeah, well, you’ve been lying to me and sneaking around behind my back.” Issei kept his eyes on his hands, soaping them up much more thoroughly than he usually would have. “So I think I’ve got the right to be upset.”

Takahiro twisted his mouth, looking rather guilty. 

“First you lied to me about where you were last night,” Issei continued, adding more soap to his hands and scrubbing them even harder. “And now you’re lying to me about what you were talking about just now.”  

“I didn’t . . . it’s not . . .” Takahiro sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. “Okay, yeah, we lied about where we were last night. And yes, it was a very stupid lie. We didn’t come up with a cover story and I kinda panicked when you put me on the spot. But just now, we really were talking about today’s practice games.”

“Great, so you only lied once. And you sucked at it. That makes everything better,” Issei said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. 

“Issei . . .”

“Takahiro.”

“I’m sorry for lying last night,” Takahiro said, coming to stand beside Issei, so that they could see each other in the mirror. “I had a good reason.”

“Okay, and that reason is what, exactly?” Issei asked, shaking his hands above the sink to get some of the moisture off and then patting them against his pajama pants. He had forgotten to grab his hand towel. 

“To protect you from getting in trouble,” Takahiro admitted in a soft voice. “We probably won’t. But just in case, we didn’t want you to be involved.”

Issei stared at Takahiro in the mirror, frowning as he put two and two together. “You guys did something to Sakamoto-san, didn’t you?”

With an expression that was both apologetic and protective, Takahiro grabbed the back of Issei’s shirt, holding onto it like a lifeline. “I don’t think he’s gonna bother you anymore.”  

Issei leaned his hands against the edge of the sink, hunching his shoulders forward. He didn’t know how to feel. 

“Please don’t be mad at me,” Takahiro said, gently tugging Issei’s shirt. “I’m really sorry.”

“Are you gonna tell me what you guys did last night?” 

“I promised not to talk about it . . . we all did.” Takahiro briefly met Issei’s gaze in the mirror, and then he looked away. “This morning, we decided if anyone asks where we were last night, we’re gonna tell them we were out at that meadow looking at the stars. Everyone knows we’ve been doing that, so it’ll be a good, believable alibi if we need one. And then right before you snuck up on us, we were talking about what to do if that creep does anything creepy when we’re playing practice games today.”  

Issei turned around, which made Takahiro release his shirt. Then he stared at him with his arms crossed. His thoughts and emotions were a tangled mess, so he still didn’t know how to feel about this situation. But his curiosity was eating him up inside. He wanted to know what had happened the previous night, though it was clear to him that Takahiro wanted to keep his promise. And he could hardly fault him for that.

As he accepted the weight of Issei’s piercing gaze, Takahiro nervously chewed at his bottom lip, looking very much like someone who was waiting to find out whether or not they would have to face the executioner.  

“Whatever you guys did . . . would it get you kicked off the team if our coaches found out?”

“Maybe,” Takahiro said, grinning awkwardly as he began to ramble. “I mean, I guess it depends on what kinda mood they’re in. You know how Coach Mizoguchi can be, that old grouch. And honestly, I kinda feel like Coach Irihata would take our side, you know, like if we explained it to him. But let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. I don’t think . . . I dunno, I don’t think that creep is gonna say anything. He knows exactly what’s gonna happen if he steps out of line.”

Issei rubbed his temples and tried to organize his thoughts. It was both concerning and comical to hear his best friend talk like some kind of gang member, and he didn’t know whether to laugh or to scold him. The only thing he knew for sure was that he needed to express his feelings as best he could. 

“It’s really—I really wish you guys didn’t sneak around behind my back,” he began, speaking slowly to give himself time to figure out what to say. “It makes me feel . . . left out. And it makes me feel like you don’t think I can take care of myself or handle my own problems. Don’t get me wrong, I really appreciate that you’re always looking out for me. But sometimes, you take things too far. And I don’t want you getting in trouble for me.”

Takahiro was staring at Issei, taking in everything he was saying. 

“You’re my best friend,” Issei continued. “That doesn’t mean you have to tell me everything all the time. There’s gonna be stuff you wanna keep to yourself, and that’s fine. I totally get it. But it’s just . . . I really hate it when you lie to me.”

“I’m sorry,” Takahiro said, looking down at his feet. Then he grabbed the bottom hem of Issei’s shirt, pulling him a little closer, like he wanted a hug. 

Issei sighed and stepped forward, wrapping Takahiro up in his arms. His anger had mostly melted away again. He couldn’t say the same about his curiosity, but he was able to push that aside and focus on how comforting it was to hug his best friend. 

“Are you still mad at me?” Takahiro asked as he squeezed Issei, pressing his face against the top of his shoulder. 

“A little, but I’ll get over it,” Issei said. “Just don’t lie to me anymore.”

“I won’t,” Takahiro mumbled, keeping his head down. It almost seemed like his body was trembling. And then he spoke again, sounding hesitant and nervous. “There’s, uh, something I need to tell you. This might not be the best time, but I’ve gotta get it off my chest.”

Issei let go of Takahiro, backing away so that he could see his face. “What is it?”

“It’s, uh . . .” Takahiro squirmed slightly, unable to meet Issei’s gaze. “Remember the first game we played as starters, back in middle school?”

“Yeah, of course,” Issei said, wondering where this was going. 

Takahiro put his hands in the pockets of his checkered pajama pants. “Remember what happened after, when we were stretching?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” Issei teased, trying to lighten the mood. 

“You went to use the bathroom,” Takahiro prompted, hunching his shoulders as he shuffled his feet, rubbing one slipper against the other. “And then Creepymoto showed up.”

Issei frowned. “Oh, that.”

“Yeah, that.” Takahiro cleared his throat. “I, uh . . . I heard him confess to you.”

Issei’s frown deepened. “Well, that’s kind of embarrassing.”

“Remember how he said he was gonna text you later?” Takahiro asked, briefly meeting Issei’s gaze, though he quickly looked away again. 

“Vaguely,” Issei said, crossing his arms. 

Takahiro chuckled nervously. “You probably think he never texted you, right?”

“Right . . .” 

“Well, here’s the thing. He did text you. But you were in the shower, and I happened to see his name pop up on your phone, and I just . . . I read it,” Takahiro admitted, looking at everything in the room except for Issei’s face. “And I sent back this, like, long-ass rejection. Made sure it sounded like you wrote it and all that. Then I kinda just . . . deleted the conversation and blocked his number.”

That information was so unexpected that Issei didn’t know what to say. His expression was blank, and his arms were still crossed.

“I knew you didn’t like him like that,” Takahiro went on, letting the words flow out quickly as he continued to avoid Issei’s gaze. “And you always try not to let people down, you know, like if you think you owe them something or if they’re someone you’re supposed to respect, even if they’re a creepy piece of shit who doesn’t deserve any respect from anyone. So I tried to make it easier for you by taking care of it myself. But now I realize that was probably just me, like, overstepping and taking things too far. And I feel really bad for doing that without your permission.”

Issei unintentionally furrowed his brow, which made him look angry. But he was actually just thinking about the remarks Sakamoto made in the forest, regarding the rejection he had no memory of making. 

As it turned out, a flat-out rejection had been quite clearly communicated, and that was what kept Sakamoto away for over a year. But in the end, it hadn’t been enough of a deterrent for someone who so adamantly refused to accept that he wasn’t going to get what he wanted.

“On a scale of one to ten, how mad are you right now?” Takahiro asked, forcing himself to look Issei in the eye as he waited for an answer.

“A solid four,” Issei replied, bringing his focus back to the present moment. 

“Oh.” Takahiro seemed like he was relieved to hear that. “Thought it was gonna be, I dunno, an eight or something.”

“It would only be a two if I wasn’t still kinda mad about you lying to me last night,” Issei said, turning around to splash his face with water, just to help himself feel more alert. “Honestly, I really didn’t wanna deal with him anymore, so I’m glad you did that. You did make things easier for me.”

Takahiro suddenly scowled. “If only that creep hadn’t shown up here, you wouldn’t have had to deal with his creepy creepiness yesterday, or any other day.”

After drying his face off with the bottom of his shirt, Issei glanced at Takahiro, wondering if Oikawa had ended up telling him about what happened in the forest. But he decided not to ask. He didn’t want to bring it up again, nor did he want to think about it.

Having already spent a ridiculous amount of time surrounded by toilets and urinals, the two boys went back to their room and got dressed for the day. Everyone else was up and ready at that point, and it was about time for breakfast to be served, so they all headed to the dining room together. 

When they got there, Issei spotted Sakamoto at a table with some of his teammates. He studied him for a few seconds to see if there was any evidence of him getting beat up—since that’s what he assumed had happened the previous night.

But as far as he could tell, Sakamoto seemed totally fine. 

Not wanting to be caught staring, Issei looked away, following the other first-years to where food was being served. Then they all went over to an empty table, sitting on the floor cushions that were surrounding it. 

Halfway through eating his breakfast, Issei felt like he was being watched. So he glanced at Sakamoto, who hurried to look down at his food, acting strangely jumpy and nervous.

Sitting at Issei’s side, Takahiro had observed that brief interaction from the corner of his eye. It was the same for Iwaizumi and Oikawa, both of whom were monitoring Sakamoto’s behavior, though they were being very subtle about it. 

There was another odd moment a few minutes later, when Issei and his friends were leaving the dining hall. 

Sakamoto happened to be leaving at the same time.

But as soon as he realized he would have to cross Issei’s path, he completely changed course and used the exit on the opposite side of the room. 

That kind of thing kept happening throughout the rest of training camp. Whenever there was even the slightest chance that Sakamoto might have to get anywhere near Issei, he would back away and go somewhere else. But that wasn’t possible during practice games. So he simply avoided looking directly at Issei, and he didn’t talk to him at all. 

Sakamoto also steered clear of Takahiro, Oikawa, and Iwaizumi, acting as though he were afraid of them. He wouldn’t even look any of them in the eye. Whatever they did to him seemed to be keeping him in line quite effectively—and whatever it was remained a secret.

The three of them refused to even acknowledge their unexplained absence that night, and Issei decided not to pester them about it. 

After all, they had definitely succeeded at making Sakamoto stay away from him, which made the rest of training camp a much more pleasant experience than it would have been otherwise. He was able to move around the ryokan freely and participate in practice games as much as he wanted, without having to worry about Sakamoto approaching him. 

On top of that, either Takahiro, Oikawa, or Iwaizumi was at his side at all times, making sure he was never alone at any point that entire week. They were basically his trio of personal bodyguards, though sometimes they seemed more like the three stooges than the three musketeers. 

He definitely noticed how much effort they put into watching out for him, and while it embarrassed him a little bit, he also appreciated it. His friends were a bit goofy and overzealous sometimes, but he knew they meant well.

Chapter Text

The end of October soon arrived, bringing with it a very exciting opportunity. That was when the Spring Tournament Qualifiers were held, and unlike during the Interhigh Preliminaries back in June, there were a bunch of new starters for Aoba Johsai.

This included Iwaizumi and Oikawa, both of whom were full of determination at the start of their game against a lesser known school, which they beat easily. And they managed to beat another school in the next round. 

But on the day they had to face Shiratorizawa, they met their match, losing two sets in a row. 

And that was enough to put everyone, especially Oikawa, in a dismal mood. He was sulky during the bus ride back to Aoba Johsai, remaining that way throughout the team meeting that was held once they were back in their own gym. Even his fake smiles were empty, lacking their usual convincing quality, and his words of encouragement at the end of the meeting were just as hollow.  

When he and the other first-years were crossing through the school gates to head home at the end of the day, he finally voiced his frustration without holding back.

“Shit, shit, shit! I can’t believe we lost to Ushiwaka, of all people. I’ve never felt so humiliated,” he said, kicking a pebble against the tall cement wall that surrounded the school grounds. “I swear, he’s way more annoying than he was in middle school. Did you hear what he said to me before the game started? He was all like, ‘Hello, Oikawa, it’s been a while. I’m surprised you didn’t apply to my school. With your talent, you surely would have been accepted.’ Like, excuse me? Why would I ever go there? That guy’s denser than a brick if he thinks I’d ever play on his team. Ugh, just thinking about him makes my blood boil. He’s like a big, stinky, dumb, ugly cow.”

“Yeah, he’s a fucking menace,” Iwaizumi muttered, shuffling down the sidewalk at Oikawa’s side, with the other boys all around them. Their shadows were long, stretching out into the busy street as the sun got lower, bathing the city in soft, golden light. 

“At least you guys kicked ass in the other games,” Takahiro said, tucking his hands in his pockets and shivering as a gust of wind blew some leaves off the trees above his head. He was wearing his volleyball club tracksuit, just like everyone else.

“Yeah, and the second match against Shiratorizawa was pretty close,” Issei added as he zipped up his jacket. “You guys almost had it.”

Oikawa sighed irritably and yanked a scarf out of his sports bag, winding it around his neck several times. “Close isn’t good enough—if we wanna make it to nationals, we’ve gotta get serious and train harder.”

“Haven’t we already been training hard?” Sawauchi asked, looking over his shoulder from where he, Yuda, and Shido were walking slightly ahead of the others.

“Not hard enough,” Oikawa replied, his eyes flashing with frustration. Then he slammed his fist against his palm. “From now on, we’re gonna push ourselves until we’re at our breaking point.”

“That’s a great way to get injured,” Iwaizumi remarked dryly, glancing at Oikawa’s forehead like he wanted to flick it, though he resisted the urge.

Oikawa huffed and crossed his arms. “Okay, then what would you suggest?”

“We just need to keep doing what we’ve been doing,” Iwaizumi replied, running his thumb over the top of his pointer finger, as if he were still trying to keep himself from flicking Oikawa’s forehead. “We’re gonna get stronger and stronger as a team if we keep practicing together.”

“If you ask me, the team would be way better off with a few new starters,” Shido remarked, glancing back at Issei and Takahiro for a moment. Then he looked at Yuda, who was right beside him. “Some fresh talent is what we need.” 

“Man, it would be so great to play as a starter.” Yuda slowed down so that he could walk between Issei and Takahiro, putting a hand on each of their shoulders and giving them a squeeze. “We’ll get to, won’t we?”

“Hell yeah, we will. It’s just a matter of time.” Takahiro ruffled Yuda’s ashy brown hair, and then he put his hand back in his pocket, shivering again. The temperature was continuing to drop as the sun slowly got lower and lower. “Me and you, we’re already way better than the second-year wing spikers. And I bet Issei could block Shiratorizawa’s leftie bastard with his eyes closed.”

“I dunno about that,” Issei said as he dug around in his sports bag, looking for the woolen scarf and thick beanie he usually kept in there. Once he found them, he made a loop with the scarf and tossed it over Takahiro’s head, plopping the beanie on him afterwards.

Then he crossed his arms for warmth and tried not to pick at his lips. There was just enough wind to make them feel dry, and unfortunately, he had just run out of chapstick that morning. “I mean, I could probably redirect a few of his spikes, but he seems pretty strong. Maybe even stronger than Iwaizumi—no offense.”

“None taken,” Iwaizumi said, though the corners of his mouth tilted down into a grouchy frown. “The dude’s a beast.”

“Uhm, no, Iwa-chan’s stronger,” Oikawa declared confidently, grabbing Iwaizumi’s biceps as they walked side by side. His hand was shaken off within seconds, so he flexed his own biceps instead. “He’s never lost at arm wrestling. Trust me, if he had to go up against that damn Ushiwaka, he’d beat him so fast his head would spin.”

“When he—he’s against him—his head—is he gonna . . .” Takahiro was snickering a lot, making it hard for him to speak. “No one else can . . . can . . .”

Issei knew enough about how Takahiro’s mind worked to finish the joke for him. “Are you saying Iwaizumi’s the only one who can beat Ushiwaka off?”

That made Takahiro cackle maniacally, and then he made lewd hand gestures. “Why can’t you beat Ushiwaka off yourself, Oikawa? I’m sure you could make his head spin.” 

“NASTY!” Oikawa shouted, swatting at Takahiro again and again, which led to several strangers glancing at them in passing. “NASTY, NASTY, NASTY!”

“Hey, chill out,” Takahiro said through laughter, blocking Oikawa’s attack with one hand and keeping the other in his pocket. “You can just get Iwaizumi to do it for you, since he’s so good at it.”

All of a sudden, Iwazumi landed two consecutive smacks of the back of Oikawa and Takahiro’s heads. “Knock it off,” he snapped, smacking Oikawa a second time. “You guys are making a scene.”

“Ouch, that fucking hurt,” Takahiro complained, gingerly rubbing the back of his head through the black beanie he was wearing.   

“Welcome to my world,” Oikawa muttered, also rubbing the back of his head. Then he pouted at Iwaizumi like he was trying to make him feel bad. “You’re so mean, Iwa-chan.”

Rather than apologize, Iwaizumi reached over and flicked Oikawa’s forehead, apparently unable to keep himself from doing so any longer.

In response, Oikawa just stood up as straight as he could and walked closer to Iwaizumi, drawing attention to the fact that he was taller than him. Then he gave a smug grin as Iwaizumi scowled at him. 

“You good?” Issei asked, glancing at the back of Takahiro’s head. 

“Yeah, I’m fine. Your beanie cushioned the blow,” Takahiro said as he adjusted the gray scarf Issei had given him. “I’ve gotta say, with how hard Iwaizumi hits, he’s definitely gonna be our team’s ace someday.”

“He’s already our ace,” Oikawa corrected. His voice was full of pride and confidence—the sincere kind, not the kind he forced when he needed to come across more sure of himself than he actually was. “He hits harder than any of the second-years and he’s way more reliable when we’re in a pinch. I can always count on Iwa-chan when I need him.”

A blush crept up Iwaizumi’s neck, settling in his ears, which became bright pink. He was also holding back a smile. But no one—aside from Takahiro, who was always watching for things like that—happened to notice.

“Must be nice to have that much faith in someone,” Shido remarked from the front of the group as he adjusted his bangs, using them to hide the pimples sprinkled across his forehead. His days of being the only one who didn’t often get acne were over. Like the rest of them, he was getting regular breakouts now.

When they all reached a crossroad not far from their school, Shido started walking away from the group with Yuda and Sawauchi, since they all lived in that direction. They were headed towards the setting sun.

“Bye, everyone,” Yuda called out as he waved at his friends.

Issei and the others waved back, and then they continued on their way, just the four of them.

A few seconds later, Takahiro cleared his throat. “On a serious note—what are the odds of me and Issei getting to be starters next year?”

“You’ll both be starters after spring break,” Oikawa stated, making it sound like it was an undeniable fact. “It’ll be the same for Yudacchi, from what I understand.”

“Says who?” Iwaizumi asked, raising an eyebrow. His ears were still pink from his reaction to being praised, though it was easy enough to assume that he was just cold.

“Coach Irihata,” Oikawa replied as he unraveled his dark blue scarf, wrapping it around Iwaizumi’s neck as they walked, which only caused Iwaizumi’s ears to get even redder. 

It wasn’t clear if Oikawa noticed that or not, but either way, he didn’t remark on it. 

Instead he just continued speaking in a casual manner, keeping his eyes on where he was going. “I heard him discussing it with Coach Mizoguchi right before we left the gym. They don’t think the current starters are a good combination for beating Shiratorizawa’s resident rat bastard—and apparently, that’s their biggest concern for next year. So yeah, our captain and libero get to keep their spots, but the other second-years are gonna be cut from the starting lineup. Coach Irihata mentioned Mattsun, Makki, and Yudacchi by name as replacements.”

“Wow,” Issei said, getting goosebumps from how excited he suddenly felt. And then a nervous grin plastered itself on his face. “I don’t think they’re gonna like that.”

“Who cares if they like it or not?” Takahiro had a spring in his step and he was smiling wide, as if he was unable to contain his enthusiasm. He didn’t even try to act sorry for their upperclassmen. “They’re out, we’re in, and that’s that.”

“Yes, that’s that,” Oikawa said with reluctance, leading his friends through the crosswalk they had just reached. The four of them stayed close together to avoid getting separated by the surge of pedestrians surrounding them. “Unless . . .”

Takahiro’s smile faded. “Unless?”

“Well, you never know when some random genius is gonna show up and steal the spotlight,” Oikawa explained bitterly, tossing his hair. “We all get to be starters after spring break, unless we get some new players that shine brighter than us.” He let out a long sigh as he and his teammates reached the other side of the crosswalk, breaking free from the crowd. “None of our spots are guaranteed, you know. And that’s why we have to keep practicing as hard as we can. Otherwise, we might lose everything we’ve worked for, just like that. Keep this in mind—we’re all replaceable, each and every one of us.”

“Even you?” Issei asked, wondering what setter could possibly outshine Oikawa, who was extremely talented for a first-year. 

“Especially me,” Oikawa replied, sounding dead serious. His expression was grim, and his eyes were as cold as the wind blowing against his face.

Thwack.

Iwaizumi had unexpectedly smacked the back of Oikawa’s head. 

“Ow, Iwa-chan, that hurt!” Oikawa looked over his shoulder with a petulant frown. “Why’d you—”

“You’re not gonna lose your starting spot,” Iwaizumi interrupted, grabbing Oikawa’s arm to stop him from walking any further. He roughly turned him so that they were facing each other, and then he stared up at him, furrowing his brow and speaking firmly. “No one’s better at bringing a team together than you are. You’ve got the skill, the brains, the drive—everything it takes to be a good leader. You’ve already got serious talent, and you can do so much more. You’re exactly what this team needs. You, Oikawa, not any other setter. Our coaches have seen that time and time again. That’s why they want you to be the next captain, and you know damn well they’re not gonna toss you aside for some half-baked setter who can’t handle himself like you can.”

“That’s right,” Takahiro said, clapping Oikawa’s back. “You’re definitely gonna lead us to nationals someday.”

Issei nodded and bumped his fist against Oikawa’s arm. “Yeah, we can’t do it without you.”

“You guys . . .” Oikawa’s chin was quivering, and he started blinking fast, like he was trying not to cry. “That’s so—”

“More importantly, you’re a good-for-nothing piece of garbage who’s too stubborn to know when to quit,” Iwaizumi interjected, unable to let a tender moment pass without ruining it. “Injuring yourself is the only thing that’s gonna stop you, and if that happens, it’ll be your own fault for not listening to me.”

“How am I supposed to listen to anything a brute like you says?” Oikawa retorted, stepping away to get out of Iwaizumi’s reach. “I don’t speak gorilla.”

Since he wasn’t in range to deliver another smack, Iwaizumi kicked Oikawa on the butt, earning a loud cry and a long string of whiny complaints. That led to some bickering as they all walked on.

As usual, it was much more playful and affectionate than anything else. The two of them simply lived to tease each other. 

They quickly arrived at another crossroads, bringing Iwaizumi’s apartment building into view. It was to their left, and going right would lead Issei and Takahiro home, whereas Oikawa had to go past Iwaizumi’s building.

“I’ve gotta go this way today,” Issei said, walking straight forward to cross the street. “See you guys later.”

Oikawa and Iwaizumi were too busy teasing each other to say goodbye, though Iwaizumi did give a brief nod of acknowledgement. 

“We’re not going home?” Takahiro asked, following Issei without even bothering to find out where they were headed.

“I need to do some shopping,” Issei replied as he opened his bag and pulled out his wallet, making sure all of the money his father had trusted him with was there.

Ever since he got back from training camp, it had been his responsibility to buy food for the household. 

“Oh, nice, it’s grocery day.” Takahiro was walking at a leisurely pace, with Issei’s cozy woolen scarf still wrapped around his neck and the thick beanie hiding most of his hair. “Can we go to the store with the bakery in it?”

Issei nodded. “Yeah, that’s where we’re going.”

“Cool-cool-cool,” Takahiro said, patting his stomach. “It’s been forever since I’ve had a fresh cream puff.”

“Seven days ago isn’t forever,” Issei pointed out with a grin. 

“It is when you’re hungry,” Takahiro insisted. “I’m literally starving right now.”

“Well then, we better hurry,” Issei said, not moving any faster. “Wouldn’t want you collapsing on the street.”

“True,” Takahiro remarked, maintaining his leisurely pace as he stuffed his hands back in his pockets. “Wouldn’t wanna inconvenience anyone by dying in front of them, especially not you.”

“Yeah, that would really ruin my plans for the evening,” Issei deadpanned. 

The two of them continued to joke around as they slowly made their way to the store, taking about thirty minutes to get there. 

Once they were inside, Issei grabbed a shopping cart and started pushing it through the crowded store, with Takahiro meandering along beside him. Then he came to a sudden halt and pulled out the shopping list he had written that morning.

“What’re we looking for?” Takahiro asked, coming to stand right behind Issei so that he could peer over his shoulder. “Ah, okay, I’ll go get the eggs and milk and stuff.”

“Thanks,” Issei said, watching Takahiro disappear into the crowd.

Then he slowly continued on his way, grabbing rice and curry packets from the dry goods section, along with a few other things that were on sale. He prided himself on being able to stay within budget when it came to doing the shopping. His father had been giving him a set amount of money each month to use for groceries, and he made it last the entire time. 

After crossing off half the things on his list, he went and selected some fresh fruits and vegetables. Then he headed towards the frozen section, where he would find the rest of the things he needed—aside from what Takahiro was supposed to be getting. 

Right as Issei was about to turn down the aisle with frozen foods, Takahiro came up behind him with his arms full of a block of cheese, a carton of milk, a six-pack of yogurt cups, and two cartons of eggs. He put all of it into the cart, stacking it neatly among the rest of the groceries. 

“I know you usually get a different brand, but there’s a buy one, get the second half-off deal on these,” Takahiro said, drumming his fingers on one of the egg cartons.

Then he fell into step beside Issei, sticking close so that he could walk without getting in anyone’s way, though that part of the store wasn’t as crowded. “I know how you love a good bargain.”

“That I do,” Issei agreed, glancing at the eggs and nodding in approval. “Good find. At this rate, I’ll have to get you two cream puffs.”

“Aw, thanks mommy,” Takahiro joked. “If I’m a really good boy, can I get a drink too?”

“Well, this is quite the betrayal,” said a familiar voice from behind them.

Takahiro turned around, recoiling and squeaking in surprise when he saw his mother standing there. She was bigger and taller than any of the other shoppers in the area, so she was easy to spot, and she was putting on airs like she was offended. 

“I can’t believe you’re calling someone else ‘mommy’ right in front of me. What’s worse, you’re helping him get groceries with such a cheerful, willing attitude. You always turn me down whenever I ask you to come with me,” Misumi continued in a playfully upset manner.

Then she sighed, pressing the back of her hand to her forehead, much like her son tended to do when he was being dramatic. “My sweet, sweet boy doesn’t need me anymore. He gets his treats from someone else and never wants to spend time with me. Oh, what’s a mother to do?” 

“There’s only one way to make up for what I’ve done,” Takahiro said gravely, pretending to pull out a knife and stab himself in the chest with it.

After that, he fell to his knees and looked up at his mother, shakily holding a hand towards her.

“I just hope,” he gasped, as if he were in pain, “that you can forgive me someday.”

Neither of them seemed to mind the puzzled glances they were getting from other shoppers, and while Issei was slightly embarrassed, he just let them carry on with their silly antics. 

“So it’s come to this.” Misumi stared down at where Takahiro was still crumpled on the floor, pretending to wipe tears from her eyes.  “Well, that’s one less mouth to feed. Guess I’ll put all these cream puffs back.”

“Say what?” Takahiro jumped to his feet and looked into his mother’s shopping cart, where there was a clear box filled with a dozen fresh cream puffs. He picked it up and held it close to his face, sniffing it through the packaging. 

“My recently deceased traitor of a son texted me after his team lost an important game,” Misumi explained, taking the box from Takahiro and shaking her head sadly. “I wanted to cheer him up. But he’s gone now, so I won’t be needing these.”

Takahiro ran his hands over his chest and face, and then he pressed two fingers to his neck, as if feeling for his pulse. “Whoa, it’s a miracle! I’m more alive than ever!”

“Perfect, then you won’t mind helping me get the groceries home,” Misumi said with a wink. “You know, to make up for your betrayal.”

Takahiro’s mouth fell open, and he looked at Issei in disbelief. “Did she just . . . trick me . . . into being helpful?” 

“You fell right into her trap,” Issei replied calmly. 

“That’s it,” Takahiro said, pretending to pull a knife out again. “Now I’m really gonna do it.”

“I’ll miss you,” Misumi deadpanned, moving her cart up next to Issei’s and giving him a kind smile. “You don’t mind if we all walk home together, do you?”

“That would be fine,” Issei replied, glancing between his and Misumi’s shopping carts. She had way more groceries than him. “I’ll only have a couple bags of my own, so I can probably carry two or three of yours.”

“Thanks, you’re so sweet to offer. But I’ve actually got my wagon waiting outside,” Misumi said, going over to grab a few things out of the cold case right across the aisle. “I think we’ll even be able to fit your bags in it.”

“In that case, I’ll pull the wagon home,” Issei decided, moving further up the aisle to get the last few things on his list. 

With narrowed eyes, Takahiro watched the two of them walk away.

Then he hurried to follow them, shoving his hands in his pockets and hunching his shoulders, sticking close to Issei once again. “Somehow, I feel like I’ve just been replaced.”

“Now you know how I feel,” Misumi teased lightheartedly from just ahead of them. “Don’t worry—Issei’s the kind of child every mother wants, but you’ll always be my son.”

“Shouldn’t you say, ‘but you’ll always be my favorite son’?” Takahiro almost bumped into the cart when Issei suddenly stopped it. Rather than watching where he was going, he had been looking at his mother, and he was still doing so. “Don’t you think I deserve that title?” 

“You know I don’t like to play favorites,” Misumi said as she and Issei both made a few more selections from the cold cases. 

“Unbelievable,” Takahiro scoffed, crossing his arms. “As your only son, I should automatically be your favorite one.”

“As your only mommy, you should automatically offer to help me more often,” Misumi countered. “And yet Issei’s the one who offered to pull the wagon. He’s such a good boy, isn’t he?”

After a moment of thought, she added, “Maybe he should be my favorite.”

“Alright, fine, you win,” Takahiro said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’ll pull the damn wagon!”

“Language,” Misumi chided, pushing her cart towards the front of the store. 

“Yeah, watch your language,” Issei said, trying to keep a straight face as he followed Misumi, carefully steering around the other shoppers.

“I’ll pull the dang wagon,” Takahiro amended grumpily, grabbing the strap of Issei’s sports bag and shuffling along behind him. “But only if you guys stop teaming up against me.”

“Deal,” Misumi and Issei said at the same time, both laughing afterwards. Things had worked out in their favor. 

When they made it to the check out stands, Takahiro weaved through the people ahead of them in line, grabbing a little box of Issei’s favorite chapstick from the display area near the conveyor belt. He brought it back and held it up for Issei to see.

“Can’t leave without some of this, can we?” 

“Oh, good thinking. I forgot to put that on my list,” Issei said, watching Takahiro toss it in the cart. “I just ran out of mine this morning.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Takahiro glanced at Issei’s mouth for a very brief moment. Then he adjusted the beanie Issei had lent him, pulling it further down over his ears. “Your lips are getting chapped.”

“It’s a good thing you were paying attention,” Issei remarked, looking over his groceries and mentally estimating how much they were going to cost. 

“Well, what can I say?” Takahiro stuck his hands in his pockets and nudged into Issei with his hip. “If there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s making sure you don’t forget chapstick.”

“I think you’ve earned yourself a drink,” Issei said, nodding at a nearby case that held bottled tea, coffee, and juice. “Go pick something out.”

Takahiro smirked triumphantly, stepping around Issei in one smooth motion and sauntering over to grab himself a bottle of tea. When he came back, Issei had made it to the front of the line, so they both worked on putting groceries on the conveyor belt.

Further back in the line, Misumi silently observed the two boys, smiling to herself as she pulled out her phone to sneak a picture. She sent it to Yuko right away, and then she slipped her phone back into her purse. The two of them were in the habit of frequently exchanging photos of their children now that they lived in different cities. 

Once the groceries were paid for, the three of them loaded all of the bags into the wagon that Misumi had left right outside the entrance of the store. It was fully dark now, and the sun had taken all its warmth with it, making it cold enough that Issei and Takahiro were both quite miserable. 

Right after leaving the store, Takahiro had given back Issei’s scarf, keeping the beanie for himself and cursing the fact that he had forgotten his own winter things at home.

Neither of them were dressed warmly enough.

That wasn’t the case for Misumi, who was wearing a fuzzy coat, mittens, and a scarf. She also had a thick hat with flaps that covered her ears, and her hair was down, flowing over her broad shoulders in cascades of red.  

As promised, Takahiro pulled the wagon as they made their way home, walking between his mother and Issei the entire time. He complained often about how cold it was, how heavy the wagon was, how his feet were hurting, how he was definitely going to strain something, and how he had been guilted into helping against his will. 

However, he was smiling a lot for someone who was complaining so much. In his free hand, he held the bottle of tea Issei had purchased for him, and he had already eaten two of the cream puffs his mother bought. Aside from having to put up with being cold, he seemed to be enjoying himself. His complaints were just a way to pass the time.

“Thanks for the help,” Issei said to Takahiro and Misumi as he grabbed his two grocery bags out of the wagon. They were all standing right in front of his house, having finally made it to their neighborhood. “It was nice not having to carry these myself.”

“Yeah, sure, no problem,” Takahiro muttered, rolling his shoulders and stretching his arms with exaggerated effort. “The headache I’m gonna get from straining my neck is totally worth your comfort.”

“If you want, I’ll come over and rub your shoulders when I’m done putting my groceries away,” Issei offered, shivering slightly as a strong gust of wind blew. His scarf and tracksuit weren’t providing that much protection from the elements. 

“Really?” Takahiro grinned, perking up cheerfully under the glow of a nearby streetlight. He had Issei’s beanie pulled down so far that it was completely covering his ears and eyebrows. “That would be great!”

“Well, it’s no wonder you’re so spoiled,” Misumi teased as she looked back and forth between the two boys. “You’ve got Issei at your beck and call.”

“It’s not like I asked him for a massage,” Takahiro said, sounding indignant. “He’s the one who offered.”

“Even a stranger would’ve been able to pick up on the hints you were dropping,” Misumi remarked wryly. “You’re not exactly subtle, hun.”

Another gust of wind blew, making Issei shiver again, and then his stomach growled. That made him realize it was nearly dinnertime. “Ah, actually, I might not have enough time to come over tonight. It’s kinda late and I’ve gotta make dinner.”

“You should come eat with us after you drop off your groceries,” Misumi suggested, giving Takahiro a side hug and a playful shake. She was a very tall, full-bodied woman, but he would probably be taller than her in just another year or so. They were almost the same height now. “My favorite son is going to help me cook dinner, and we’d love it if you joined us.”

Takahiro narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms as his mother continued to jostle him. “If you think calling me your favorite son is gonna make me wanna help you with dinner . . . you’re right. But only if Issei’s gonna come eat with us.”

“I think my dad is expecting me to make dinner,” Issei said reluctantly, though he did like the idea of not having to cook. He had been in charge of making dinner every night since getting back from training camp, and sometimes he really didn’t feel up to it. 

“Oh, I’m sure your dad can fend for himself,” Misumi insisted. “It’s been weeks since you’ve had a meal with us.”

“Well, I’ll ask if I can.” Issei put both of his grocery bags in one hand, using the other to adjust the strap of his sports bag, which was digging into his shoulder in an uncomfortable way. “But he might want me to eat at home.” 

“I’m sure you can talk him into it,” Takahiro said as he reached out his hand. He and Issei did their not-so-secret handshake, sliding their palms against each other and bumping their fists together afterwards, and then he began to pull the wagon up the sidewalk. “While you’re at it, ask if you can sleep over.”

“Alright,” Issei said, watching Takahiro walk away.

Instead of following her son, Misumi lingered near Issei, staring at him for several seconds. “Has everything been okay lately?”

“Yeah,” Issei replied, shifting his weight as he held his two grocery bags, which were starting to feel heavy. “It’s been fine.”

Misumi hummed, still examining Issei as best she could with only the nearby streetlight to see by. “Are you getting enough time to rest and relax?”

That question made Issei think about all the extra chores he had taken over ever since his mother and siblings left town. Between school, homework, practice, grocery shopping, cooking, and cleaning, there was certainly a lot more on his plate now. But he didn’t feel the need to complain. Being relied on made him feel important, especially since he was receiving more attention and approval from his father than ever before. 

For about two weeks after getting back from training camp, his father came home much earlier than normal and spent time with him after dinner, which they ate together every single night. 

However, his father began to stay at work a little longer each day throughout September, and that pushed dinner later and later, eventually making it so there wasn’t often time for them to hang out before or after their meal. 

By mid October, he rarely saw his father at all unless it was dinnertime, which sometimes didn’t happen until nearly ten o’clock on weeknights. It had gotten to the point that his father told him not to wait on him anymore if he was running late, making it clear that studying and getting enough sleep was a bigger priority than eating at the same time.

But in that same conversation, he also praised Issei for being such a wonderful, responsible young man. Those words easily took away the disappointment Issei had felt over no longer getting to eat together as often. And he still made dinner each night anyway, saving his father a plate whenever necessary and always leaving the kitchen spotless before going to bed. 

His father’s praise and appreciation meant much more to him than rest and relaxation ever would. 

“Yeah, of course,” he finally said. “I’m good.”

“Alright, hun, I’m glad you’re taking care of yourself. Just don’t hesitate to let me know if you need anything.” Misumi turned and began to follow Takahiro down the sidewalk, though she briefly looked back at Issei. “I hope you’ll be able to join us for dinner.” 

“I’ll text Takahiro one way or another,” Issei promised as he went up the path that led to his front door. 

After letting himself inside and slipping off his shoes, Issei called out, “I’m home,” getting no response. It made him wish his mother or siblings were there to welcome him. 

The house was cold and dark, so he flipped on a light and walked into the kitchen, where he put away the groceries, washed the dishes that were in the sink from earlier in the day, wiped all the counters down, and took the trash out. 

When he got back from doing that, he made sure the living room was tidy and gave the bathroom a quick cleaning. Then he dropped his sports bag off in his bedroom, putting away the handful of things that were out of place while he was in there. 

After all of that was done, he went across the hall and stood outside of his father’s office. Because it was only seven o’clock, he was a little surprised to see light coming from the crack between the door and the hardwood floor. He hadn’t expected his father home for another few hours.  

He knocked softly, opening the door once he was bidden to do so. Then he peeked his head into the room. “Hey, you’re home early.”

“Yes, but I’m still working.” Mr. Matsukawa didn’t look away from the paper he was writing on, and his voice was sharp, like he was upset over being interrupted. “I need to get this done before tomorrow morning.”

“Sorry to bother you,” Issei mumbled, almost deciding against voicing the question he had come to ask. He lingered in the doorway, slouching with his hands in his pockets. “I was just wondering . . . uhm . . . if I could . . .”

“You should speak loud and clear when you’re asking for something,” Mr. Matsukawa lectured, still not turning away from his work. “And get right to the point. That shows people that you respect their time, and it makes you come across more confident and capable. Those things are important in the world of business.”

Issei stood up taller and pulled his hands out of his pockets, letting them rest stiffly at his sides. Then he spoke as confidently as he could. “I was invited to have dinner at Takahiro’s house, and I’d also like to sleep over. Would that be okay?”

Mr. Matsukawa finally turned in his tall-backed office chair, meeting Issei’s gaze from across the room. His thick eyebrows were furrowed, his lips were pressed into a flat line, and his dark eyes were filled with irritation. “It’s a school night.”

“I know,” Issei said, trying to remain confident. “But I was hoping you’d make an exception this time.”

Mr. Matsukawa hadn’t shifted his gaze away from Issei, and his expression was serious, giving no indication of whether or not he was willing to yield. “Do you have homework to do?” 

“No,” Issei replied. “It’s already done.”

“Do you have any tests coming up that you need to study for?”

Issei shook his head. 

“Is the kitchen clean?”

“Yeah, it’s clean,” Issei said. “And I already got groceries for the week.”

“What about your room?” Mr. Matsukawa asked. “Is it clean?”

“Yes,” Issei replied, nodding again. “So is the bathroom.”

This line of questioning had become the usual response whenever he asked to go anywhere. His father would say no if there was anything else he should be doing, and if he had school the next morning, there was very little chance of getting permission unless it was directly related to studying or volleyball. 

No sleepovers on school nights was one of the new rules Issei had to follow. There were also rules about how late he could have company over, when he had to be home each night, and how often he was allowed to go out with friends. 

However, his father wasn’t completely inflexible. So there was hope.  

After a few moments of thought, Mr. Matsukawa rubbed his chin, letting out a sigh. “Well, your grades have been better than ever . . . and you’ve been keeping up with your chores . . .”

Issei bit the inside of his bottom lip and held his breath, anxiously waiting to hear his father’s final decision. 

“You’re lucky I’m not as strict as my father—he never allowed sleepovers at all,” Mr. Matsukawa continued as he turned back to his work. “Go ahead and stay the night, but don’t expect me to bend the rules again. And spend some time studying before bed. You should always study each night, even if there isn’t a test coming up.”

“Okay, I will. Thank you,” Issei said, closing the door as he made a mental note to study before going to bed. That is, if Takahiro was up for it. 

Less than five minutes later, Issei was at the blue door of the Hanamaki house, and he let himself in after knocking to announce his presence. Then he slipped off his shoes and walked into the dining room, where Rei was drawing at the table. 

“Hey, there you are,” Takahiro called from the kitchen. He was sitting on the counter next to the stove, using one hand to lazily stir some kind of stew that smelled wonderful, filling the air with the warmth of various spices. “Thought you might not be coming.”

“Sorry it took so long,” Issei said. “I had to do some chores first.”

Misumi walked over to Issei with a stack of porcelain bowls, holding them out towards him. “You’re right in time to help set the table.”

“Lucky me,” Issei joked as he took the bowls and went to set them out on the table, stopping at Rei’s spot last. There wasn’t any room for her bowl because of the sketchbook she was using. So he left it as close to her as he could, and then he sat down beside her. 

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at a vague shape in the center of the paper. 

“It’s a bloopy blob,” Rei replied as she stopped working on her drawing, setting her pencil down and letting out a frustrated sigh. “I haven’t been able to think of any new stories, so I’m just making bloopy blobs for now.”

“No new stories, huh?” Issei crossed his arms and leaned against the back of his chair. “Well, I’m sure you’ll think of a new one eventually.”

“Ah-chan always gave me ideas when I couldn’t think of any,” Rei said, closing her sketchbook in defeat. “Now that she’s not around, my imagination is on its own.”

“Why don’t you call her after dinner?” Issei suggested. 

“I tried calling her earlier,” Rei said, glancing away with a frown. “But she was out playing with her new friends.”

She looked so much like Takahiro when she was pouting. And the haircut she had gotten a few months earlier to match with Asami had grown out a lot already, making it so that she had to pin her bangs to the side to keep her dark brown hair out of her eyes. That showed off her naturally thin eyebrows, which was another thing she and her older brother had in common. A freckled face was the one thing she had that he didn’t. 

That, and she had retained her chubbiness, whereas Takahiro had outgrown his within a few years of starting school. So her face was rounder than his. 

Issei could read Rei’s expressions relatively well, and he had a good guess about how she was feeling at that moment. It would seem she had a tendency towards jealousy—which was yet another thing she and her older brother had in common. 

“She’s not gonna be off playing somewhere this late in the day,” Issei pointed out. “You should give it another shot when we’re done eating. If she gets the chance, I’m sure she’d love to talk your ear off.”

“You think so?”

“I know so,” Issei replied as he grabbed the pencil Rei had been using, drawing a little smiley face on the front of her sketchbook. “Kazu’s been texting me a lot, and he keeps saying how much he and Ah-chan miss you.”

“It would be so much easier to talk to them if I had a cell phone,” Rei remarked loudly, glancing at her mother with a sly grin. 

“Not until you’re older,” Misumi said as she brought the pot of stew to the table. “For now, you can keep using the computer to send them emails.”

“But I’m a very responsible ten-year-old,” Rei reasoned. “If you got me a phone, I wouldn’t lose it or break it.”

“You’re a child, and children shouldn’t have cell phones,” Takahiro teased, bringing spoons to the table and setting them near each bowl. “Besides, you know Ah-chan doesn’t have a cell phone. So how would you having one help anything.”

“She could use her mom’s phone, like Kazu does,” Rei insisted. “It’s not fair that he’s the only one who gets to text.”

“Kazu gets to text because he can’t talk on the phone,” Misumi said as she went to get mugs out of the cupboard, handing them off to Takahiro from across the long counter that separated the kitchen and dining room. “It may not seem fair, but different people need different things. And you don’t need a cell phone at your age.”

“I do need one,” Rei muttered under her breath, not loud enough for her mother to hear. 

Meanwhile, Takahiro brought all the mugs to the table, leaving one near each bowl. When he was done, he stared at his sister for a long time, as if thinking really hard about something.

Then he finally said, “I’ve got a proposition for you.”

Rei raised an eyebrow, tilting her head as she waited for her brother to explain himself. 

“I might be willing to let you use my phone to text Ah-chan for a few hours a week,” Takahiro said. “But in exchange, you’ve gotta do all my chores.”

“For how long?” Rei asked, her face and eyes brightening up excitedly.

“Forever,” Takahiro replied.

Rei considered it for a few seconds, and then she nodded. “Okay!”

“Great, it’s a deal,” Takahiro said, reaching his hand out so they could shake on it.

“Nope, vetoed.” Misumi swatted Takahiro’s hand out of the way before Rei could grab it. Then she went back to setting the tea kettle on the table, giving Takahiro a reprimanding look. “That’s not an equal trade, and you know it.”

“It’s perfectly equal,” Takahiro argued, giving an impish smirk. “She wants to use a cell phone, I’ve got a cell phone. I don’t wanna do chores, she’s willing to do them. That’s a good, fair, honest trade. A bargain actually, if you think about it.”

“What’s a bargain?” Mr. Hanamaki asked, having just walked into the dining room. 

“Your son is trying to trick our daughter into doing all of his chores again,” Misumi replied dryly as she set a basket of bread rolls on the table. 

Hearing that made Mr. Hanamaki chuckle and shake his head. “Well, you’ve gotta hand it to him—he always finds a way around doing things he doesn’t like.” He went over to the kitchen sink, looking across the room at Rei while he washed his hands. “But really, sweetheart, don’t let your brother talk you into doing his chores. He can do them himself.”

“Can I?” Takahiro dramatically sat in the empty seat right across from Issei, who was still next to Rei on the other side of the table. “Can I, really? After school and volleyball and homework, you want me to do chores? Does a person not deserve a break from the stresses of living? Am I supposed to suffer all week long, only to come home and suffer even more?”

“Cleaning the upstairs bathroom once a week isn’t a lot to ask of you,” Misumi said, scooping a generous portion of stew into everyone’s bowls. Then she took a seat at one end of the table. “Neither is dumping the trash or dusting the furniture once a month, not that you ever remember to do that.”

“Dusting makes my eyes itchy,” Takahiro complained. “Why can’t that be Rei-chan’s chore?”

“She’s not tall enough to reach the shelves in the living room,” Misumi replied. 

“Ever heard of a step stool? A ladder? A strategically-placed chair?” Takahiro grabbed one of the bread rolls from the basket on the table, biting into it and speaking with his mouth full. “If she took over the dusting, I’d be willing to do the vacuuming once a week. That’s a better deal for her than it is for me.”

“How would you feel about that trade?” Mr. Hanamaki asked, looking at Rei as he stirred his stew, making a bunch of steam rise up. 

“Depends.” Rei smiled mischievously at her brother. “I think he should throw in letting me use his phone to text Ah-chan.”

“That’ll cost you extra,” Takahiro said, his mouth full of another bite of bread. “If you take the trash out for me from now on, I’ll let you use my phone on Sundays.”

Rei hummed. “Every single Sunday, for the entire day?”

“Every single Sunday from about nine to noon, depending on what I’ve got going on,” Takahiro countered. “And if either of us aren’t home or if we’re busy or whatever, we can figure out a different day just for that week.”

“Alright, you’ve got yourself a deal,” Rei said, standing up and reaching across the table so that she and Takahiro could shake on it. 

“That was some great problem-solving, you two. Well done.” Mr. Hanamaki glanced at each of his children, and then he looked at Issei, smiling in a genuinely warm and welcoming way. “It’s good to see you, kiddo. Feels like it’s been weeks since we last had a meal together like this.”

“Feels more like forever,” Takahiro muttered, dunking his second bread roll into his stew. He hadn’t been that vocal about his frustration over how much less time Issei was allowed to spend with him during the past few months, but it was still obvious to those around him.

“Sorry I haven’t been over as much,” Issei said, both to Takahiro and to everyone else. “I’ve just been really busy.”

“Busy with what?” Rei asked, blowing on a small spoon-full of stew before putting it in her mouth. 

“Errands and studying and homework, stuff like that,” Issei replied, grabbing a bread roll and putting some butter on it. Then he dipped it in his stew and took a big bite.

“Well, we’ve all missed having you around.” Mr. Hanamaki shared a meaningful glance with Misumi from across the table. Then he looked at Issei again, clearing his throat. “So, how’ve things been for you lately, now that it’s just you and your dad at the house?”

Issei finished chewing the bread that was in his mouth before answering. “It’s kinda quiet and lonely, but I’ve gotten used to it.” He noticed a look of concern flash across Misumi’s face, so he quickly added, “My dad comes home earlier than he used to now. We hang out when he isn’t too busy, and we eat dinner together a lot. That’s been really nice.”

“Good, good, I’m glad to hear that.” Mr. Hanamaki seemed like he wanted to say more, but instead he just worked on eating his stew.

“If you’re lonely, you should come over more often,” Rei suggested, bluntly saying what her other family members were thinking. “You can study and do your homework here. And if you wanted to, you could eat dinner with us every night. We don’t mind.”

“Thanks,” Issei said as he looked at Rei, suddenly feeling a strange urge to cry, though he managed to hold it back and force a smile. “I appreciate the offer.”

Rei flashed a big, wide grin, making her dimples appear. 

“Oh, hey, I heard some new jokes today,” Mr. Hanamaki announced. “What do you call an alligator detective?”

“I don’t know, what?” Takahiro asked in a flat, uninterested tone as he stirred his third bread roll around in his stew.

“An investi-gator.”

Rei was the only one to genuinely laugh. Everyone else gave a halfhearted chuckle just to be indulgent, though Takahiro met Issei’s gaze from across the table and rolled his eyes, as if to say he couldn’t believe how cheesy his father’s jokes were. 

“How can you figure out if a vampire is sick?” Mr. Hanamaki asked, clearly holding back his laughter. 

“How?” Rei asked, eagerly awaiting the answer. 

“See if he’s coffin,” Mr. Hanamaki replied, laughing at his own joke before moving on to the next one. “Why did the mushroom go to the party?”

“Because he’s a fungi,” Takahiro said dryly in between big spoonfuls of soup. “You’ve told us that one before.”

“Tough crowd tonight,” Mr. Hanamaki remarked, sitting up a little taller in his chair, like he was ready to put in extra effort. “Alright, how about this one . . . What’s brown and sticky?”

“Shit?” Takahiro deadpanned, earning himself a scolding glance from his mother. 

“A stick,” Mr. Hanamaki said with a giggle, which soon turned into a full blown fit of laughter. 

Everyone else started laughing as well—but only because Mr. Hanamaki’s hearty amusement was so contagious. And then they all grew quiet for a while, turning their attention to their food. 

But after most of them had finished a second bowl of stew, Rei was still picking at her first helping, and she hadn’t taken any of the bread rolls. 

“Do you not like how the stew tastes?” Misumi asked, eying her daughter curiously. 

“No, it’s really good. I love it,” Rei replied, scooping a small amount onto her spoon and putting it in her mouth. Then she held up both hands, giving two thumbs-up. 

Misumi took a sip of her tea, calmly studying Rei as she did so. “Does your stomach hurt?”

“No, I’m just not that hungry,” Rei replied, staring down at her food to avoid her mother’s gaze. 

“Did you eat a snack while I was at the store?” Misumi asked. 

“Yeah, that’s right,” Rei quickly agreed. “I had a big snack.”

“Hmm, is that so?”

Misumi took another sip of tea.

Then she set her mug down and folded her arms on the table right in front of herself. Somehow, she looked very much like a hunter watching a rabbit wander towards a trap that had just been set.

“What did you have?”

“I had . . . um . . .” Rei furrowed her brow and shifted in her seat. “A bowl of instant noodles.”

“Interesting. We’ve been out of those for a few days,” Misumi said as she sat back and ran her fingers through her long red hair, putting it up in a low bun afterwards to get it out of the way.

Then she folded her arms on the table again. “I know you didn’t actually eat when you got home from school, I know you’ve been skipping breakfast, and I know you haven’t been eating very much at dinner. What I don’t know is why that’s been happening for over a week.” 

Mr. Hanamaki was staring at Rei with a concerned frown. “Now that you mention it, she didn’t want any ice cream last time we had a movie night.”

Rei blushed over getting caught in a lie, and she started stirring her stew, which had grown cold.

Then she whispered something unintelligible.

The person sitting closest to her was Issei, and he thought he heard her say something about her classmates, but he wasn’t sure.

“Can you repeat that, sweetheart?” Mr. Hanamaki asked, his tone gentle. “I didn’t quite catch it.”

“Someone told me one of the boys in my class likes me,” Rei mumbled, still focused on pushing her stew around in her bowl. “I guess she was just joking around, but he heard her say it. And he got mad.”

She twisted her mouth, as if reluctant to go on.

“Now he and his friends keep calling me Miss Piggy, and they . . . they . . . they’ve been oinking at me whenever they see me eat anything.”

Hearing that left everyone speechless for several seconds. 

The first one to react was Takahiro, who was scowling, and his anger was making his face turn red. “I’m gonna beat their fucking asses.”

“Language,” Misumi scolded, glancing at her son before looking back at her daughter. “That must have been really upsetting for you, honey. Can you tell us more about it?”

“Yeah, gimme some names,” Takahiro demanded. “We’ll deal with that guy and his friends, won’t we, Issei?”

Rather than replying to Takahiro’s passionate declaration, Issei studied Rei’s face, which was scrunched up like she was trying not to cry. So he reached out to pat her shoulder, wanting to comfort her. 

But she turned away from him and hunched over in her chair, hiding herself. 

“I think this conversation needs to be a bit more private,” Mr. Hanamaki noted, looking at Takahiro and Issei with an apologetic smile. “Would you boys mind going upstairs? You can just leave your dishes, I’ll take care of them later.”

“No, I wanna hear this,” Takahiro said, stubbornly crossing his arms. 

Issei got up and walked around the table, grabbing Takahiro by the elbow so he could pull him out of his seat, though it took a lot of effort to accomplish that. “C’mon, let’s go.”

Despite his initial resistance, Takahiro eventually agreed to go upstairs, and then he and Issei took turns using the shower. 

Issei got to rinse off first, and he went to relax on Takahiro’s bed afterwards, having borrowed some pajamas. He had been in such a hurry to leave the house earlier that he didn’t bother packing an overnight bag. 

While he waited for Takahiro to get back, he texted with Kazuki, who was allowed to use Yuko’s phone for a few hours each evening. And because his father was limiting how often he could go out, how late he could have company over, and how early he had to get home, his conversations with his little brother were becoming one of the highlights of his day. 

It was amazing to him that Kazuki always had so much to say. And in many ways, they were bonding more over text than they had in person. He had never before gotten such a detailed view into the inner workings of Kazuki’s mind. 

Right as Takahiro came into the room, Issei was chuckling at the way Kazuki ended a story about something Asami had done at school. 

“What’s so funny?” Takahiro asked as he hung his towel on the back of his door. He had brought clothes into the bathroom with him, so he was already dressed in his pajamas.

“Just something Kazu said,” Issei replied, typing out a message to let his little brother know that he was going to sleep soon.

After getting an immediate goodnight text in return, he put his phone on the nightstand and scooted over towards the wall, making more room. 

“He was texting me a lot yesterday. Seems like he’s doing well at his new school,” Takahiro remarked as he climbed onto the bed, rolling onto his side so that he could back up against Issei’s body. They were both above the covers. “Man, it’s been way too long since we’ve had a sleepover.”

“Yeah, I think it’s been two or three weeks now,” Issei estimated, turning and draping an arm over Takahiro, who smelled strongly of the apple scented three-in-one shampoo that was in the shower. 

He could also smell the laundry detergent used by the Hanamaki family, which was coming from the recently washed bedding and the pajamas they were wearing. It was giving him a sense of comfort and nostalgia.  

“It’s kinda fucked up how your dad doesn’t let you come over as much,” Takahiro said as he glared at the wall. “He’s being such a douche-bag dictator.”

“He just wants to spend more time with me and make sure I’m studying enough and all that,” Issei said, since that was what his father originally told him when they discussed the new house rules.

But the first part of that felt a little less true now than it did in those days and weeks right after training camp. It was in his father’s nature to work late, and a habit like that wasn’t easy to break.  

“You know, I don’t think your dad likes me very much,” Takahiro admitted as he tucked one of his arms under his head like a pillow. “And I’ve got this really strong feeling that won’t go away, like, maybe he only made all those rules ‘cause he doesn’t want us to be friends anymore.”

Issei frowned, not wanting to think about what it would be like if that were true. Just the idea of it made him instinctively pull Takahiro a little closer, as if some invisible force was trying to separate them forever at that very moment, which was something he would never allow.

He couldn’t imagine living without his best friend.

“I’m worried that eventually, he’s not gonna let us hang out at all,” Takahiro continued. “What would we even do if that happened?”

“We don’t need to worry about that. Trust me, his rules don’t have anything to do with you,” Issei said, still hugging Takahiro firmly from behind. “My parents have just always had a different approach to stuff. My mom gets what it’s like to wanna hang out with friends all the time, but my dad thinks school and chores have to come first. That’s why he cares so much about how late I’m staying out and how often I have sleepovers and stuff.”

“Yeah, well, it seems to me like he’s a major control freak.” Takahiro briefly moved out of Issei’s embrace so that he could grab his phone and hook it up to the charger.

Then he settled back in, pulling Issei’s arm around himself again. 

“Oh, crap, I just remembered my dad told me to study before going to bed,” Issei remarked, though he wasn’t really in the mood for it. He didn’t think he could muster the energy. 

“I don’t see why he’s been pestering you about studying all the time.” Takahiro didn’t move, and he pinned Issei’s arm under his elbow so that he couldn’t move either, as if he didn’t think studying was worth getting up for. “Your grades have always been good, haven’t they?”

“He really wants me to get into the same college he went to,” Issei said, followed by a yawn. “That place is like, super picky about who they accept. So my grades have to be better than good.”

“What’s the point of going to a college like that?” Takahiro asked, his tone scornful. “All you get out of it is a whole lotta stress.”

“According to my dad, it’ll make me seem more desirable as an employee,” Issei replied in a soft, tired voice.

Then he closed his eyes and rested his cheek against the back of Takahiro’s head. He hadn’t been able to sleep next to his best friend in weeks, and now that he was lying beside him, his body and mind were relaxing so much that he could hardly stay awake. 

“Ooooh, well if it makes you more desirable as an employee, then that’s all that matters. By all means, destroy your health and social life by stressing over your grades,” Takahiro muttered sarcastically. “You know what? Fuck college, and fuck your dad.”

“I don’t approve of you fucking my dad,” Issei joked, feeling himself slip further and further away from consciousness. “He’s way too old for you.”

Takahiro gagged and elbowed Issei’s ribs. “Gross, why would you say that? Now I’m gonna have nightmares.” 

Issei snorted. 

“You owe me an extra long back rub now,” Takahiro decided. “To compensate for all the emotional damage you just caused.”

“Sorry, that’s gonna have to wait for tomorrow,” Issei murmured. His eyes were still closed, and he didn’t feel like moving. “Too tired.”

“Boo, I hate waiting,” Takahiro said as he sat up and turned off the light on the nightstand.

Then he wrestled the blankets out from underneath Issei’s body and tucked them both in, returning to his spot and pulling Issei’s arm around him once again.

“Goodnight.”

A hum was the only response Issei could manage. He was perfectly comfortable and content, and he fell asleep not long after that, with an arm wrapped around his best friend and a sleepy smile pulling at the corners of his mouth.  

Chapter Text

On a cold, cloudy day in December, just after Christmas and the start of winter break, Issei and his father were invited to share a meal with his grandparents—the local ones that lived on the opposite side of town. 

Once a year was about how often Issei saw each set of grandparents. But unlike the ones on his mother’s side, with whom he spent approximately two weeks whenever he visited them in Tokyo, he only saw his father’s parents for a single evening at the end of each year, during the meal they hosted annually on his grandmother’s birthday. 

That was the only thing his grandmother ever asked for, in terms of a celebration. She just wanted to see her son and his family. If not for that long-standing request, it was very likely that visits between them would be sporadic and much farther in between, despite the fact that they lived in the same town. 

The details had never been clear to Issei, but he knew his mother didn’t like his grandfather that much, and he also knew his father always seemed incredibly tense during their visits. That probably explained why they only saw them for a few hours each year. 

And this would be the first visit without Yuko and the twins, which Issei expected to lessen his father’s tension at least a little, considering how he wouldn’t be worrying about whether his wife was uncomfortable or not. 

Mr. Matsukawa also wouldn’t have to worry about Asami breaking any of his father’s model airplanes, like she had done just a few years earlier. Both he and Grandfather had been extremely angry about that.  

But even without those things to worry about, Mr. Matsukawa was more tense than ever as he and Issei rode the train across town. He was dressed in a suit, and he had insisted that Issei dress in his nicest clothes, which wasn’t unusual for this situation. 

The unusual thing was how silent he had become ever since they left the house. In the last twenty minutes, Issei had hardly been able to get two words out of him, and his fist was clenched at his side as they stood side by side on the train. His other hand was holding onto the overhead grab bar so firmly that his knuckles were turning white. 

Issei had been standing just behind his father throughout the train ride, with one hand in his pocket, clutching his phone. He wanted to be texting Takahiro or one of their friends to pass the time, but he knew his father wouldn’t approve of that, especially while they were on the train together. 

For one thing, it was impolite. And his father was ever the stickler for being polite and well-groomed in public. 

But more than that, Mr. Matsukawa hated texting, preferring emails sent from a computer if he needed to exchange written communications, which he only ever did for work. He was a phone call or in-person kind of guy. In his opinion, texting was a waste of time and energy, and not something people should do if there was anyone else around to converse with. He deemed it rude and ill-mannered to choose texting over a face-to-face interaction. 

Because he was so concerned with keeping up a mature, polite appearance for the sake of his father, the relatively short train ride felt very long for Issei, who kept running his thumb along the side of his flip phone. It was on silent, but even without the sound notifications, he knew Takahiro was probably sending him a bunch of texts about what he and the other first-years were doing. They were all hanging out at Oikawa’s house, and Issei would have much rather been there than where he was going. 

It had been nearly three weeks since he and his father last enjoyed a meal in each other’s presence, and he was feeling bitter that their first one together after so long had to be with his grandparents. Their house wasn’t a pleasant place. The atmosphere was stiff and suffocating, making Issei feel as though he were constantly one wrong move or slip-of-the-tongue away from being scolded severely. 

So of course, he wasn’t looking forward to it at all. The only thing he had been looking forward to was spending time with his father, though as things were, that wasn’t turning out very well. The tension radiating off his father was beginning to affect him. His stomach was churning, his palms were sweating, and he was beginning to feel rather lightheaded. 

But his only choice was to bear it and keep his discomfort to himself. 

After a few station transfers and a lot more awkward silence, Issei and his father finally made it to the right stop, and they reached the street that led to his grandparent’s house after about fifteen minutes of walking. It was on the outskirts of town, where pavement and city buildings started to blend into dirt roads, farms, and open country. But it was still close enough to the necessary amenities for an elderly couple to live in comfort. 

Everything was colder and fresher out there, cleansed by the previous night’s downpour, which left puddles along the dirt road. The scent of rain still clung to the air. It was almost enough to lift Issei’s spirits as he walked with his eyes downcast, being very careful to avoid stepping in mud. 

Soon the house came into view. It was small, plain, and unremarkable, blending in perfectly with the row of houses surrounding it. There were no decorations, plants, or furniture on the tiny porch. 

Of course, Grandfather and Grandmother hadn’t always lived there. Once their son got married and moved out, they downsized into a little one bedroom house that had no yard or land or frivolous features. It seemed as though they held no sentimentality for the house they raised their son in, despite having lived there for the better part of thirty years.

Issei had never been to his father’s childhood home, but he sometimes wondered if it was a warmer, more welcoming place than his grandparents’ current home, which always gave him the feeling that he was walking through an empty movie set or museum. It had a staged, unnatural appearance. Nothing was ever out of place, there wasn’t a single speck of dust anywhere, the sink was always free from dirty dishes, and the furniture looked brand new. 

They must not have kept the furniture from their old house—there was no way any of it would have remained in such good shape over so many years, considering there was once a child around to spill drinks and wear cushions out by building forts and scratch things up and color the underside of tables in secret, in the way children often do. The furniture in the Hanamaki house showed many such signs of wear and tear. It was similar in the Matsukawa house, to a lesser extent. After all, the six children of those two families spent most of their early years under Misumi’s watch, and her furniture bore the marks of countless playful moments and clumsy mishaps.

Once they made it to the front door, Mr. Matsukawa adjusted his tie and glanced at Issei, giving instructions in a low, serious voice. “Remember, don’t speak unless you’re spoken to. And don’t touch anything.”

Issei nodded, watching his father knock twice on the front door, which was soon opened by a woman with light gray, chin-length hair and sunken eyes, around which there were dark circles. Her skin was deeply wrinkled and her cheeks sagged, though her face brightened up beautifully when she smiled.

Grandmother reached for Mr. Matsukawa’s hand, giving it a squeeze. Then she looked at Issei, still smiling just as sincerely, though her features seemed to take on faint traces of sorrow. For a long moment, she studied his face, saying nothing. And then she let out a long, shuddery sigh, followed by a cough that she covered with her handkerchief. 

“How handsome you boys are, and how good it is to see you,” she finally said in a gentle, raspy voice. She peeked around behind them, holding onto the door frame to keep herself steady.

Then she looked at her son with a worried frown. “Where’s everyone else, Katashi? Are they sick?”

At that moment, Issei realized why his father was acting so nervous. 

Apparently, Mr. Matsukawa hadn’t told his parents that he and his wife were separated, or that two of his children were not currently living with him. His words were rather soft and awkward when he spoke, as if he was no longer a man in his forties, but rather a young boy who wanted to avoid getting in trouble.

“They couldn’t come this time, Mother. I’ll explain later.”

“Oh, alright then,” Grandmother said, shuffling aside so they could come in. She was a short woman, made even shorter by the slight hunch in her upper back. “Your father’s out taking his walk, but he’ll be home any minute.”

Issei stepped inside, slipping off his shoes and exchanging them for a pair of the guest slippers that were lined up against the wall of the entryway. Then he and his father were led into the living room to await his grandfather’s return. They all sat at the low table, which was surrounded with dark brown floor cushions. 

While his father and grandmother made conversation, Issei looked around the room, and his gaze settled on the large display of model airplanes that filled several bookshelves along one wall. There were many different sizes and colors. 

Grandfather had flown planes in a distant war, and he had loved them ever since, building models of them and collecting them over the years.

But they were not for touching, as Issei had learned at a very young age. He would never forget the scolding his grandfather had given him for spinning the propeller on one of them, though the scolding Asami was given after knocking one down was far, far worse. He could still hear the way she had cried after getting yelled at, and he could remember the look of anger and disbelief on his mother’s face, though she didn’t say anything to rebuke Grandfather for treating Asami in such an unkind way. Instead she focused on comforting her daughter.

It had been clear that Grandmother was embarrassed by her husband’s behavior, but she hadn’t rebuked him either. She just bowed her head in shame, waiting until after he stormed out of the room to apologize to Yuko and offer Asami a piece of candy from her pocket, which was always full of individually wrapped caramels and peppermints. 

The visit ended shortly after that. 

There were no positive memories of this place in Issei’s mind. Each visit had been stressful for one reason or another, and he envied his siblings and mother for not having to come this time.

“Oh, would you boys go into the hallway with me?” Grandmother asked, slowly getting to her feet, though she wasn’t that steady.

Her knees trembled, and she almost lost her balance.

Mr. Matsukawa hurried to his mother’s side, taking her arm. Then he walked beside her to the hallway, and Issei followed behind them silently, tucking his hands in his pockets so he could run his thumb along his phone again. It would be another few hours before he could check his messages.

“Look, I finally got this up on the wall,” Grandmother said, pointing at a framed picture that was among many others that were hanging in the hallway. 

The picture she was talking about had Mr. Matsukawa, Yuko, Issei, Asami, and Kazuki standing together. It was the only one that had all of them, and Yuko had given it to Grandmother as a gift the previous year, during the last meal they shared. 

Along the wall, there were pictures of Grandmother and Grandfather in their youth, and there were also many pictures of Mr. Matsukawa as a baby and toddler. But there were almost none from after he was about four or five. It was as if there was a large gap in time during which no pictures were taken, and it didn’t start back up again until the photos of Mr. Matsukawa’s high school graduation.  

Issei had asked about that once when he was younger, but the only answer he got was a glare from his grandfather and awkward silence from the other adults. Then his grandfather told him to stop snooping around the house like some kind of burglar. It had hurt his feelings to be accused of such dishonest behavior, so he didn’t say much else during that visit. 

“I’m home,” a deep voice suddenly called from the front door. That was immediately followed by, “Who’s shoes are these?!”

“Katashi and Issei are here,” Grandmother replied, turning to shuffle towards the front door as fast as she could, which seemed to wear her out.

She suddenly looked tired, and she was winded just from that short dash across the room.

“You remember, don’t you, dear?” She coughed into her handkerchief before continuing. “It’s my birthday, so they’ve come to have a meal with us.”

“That’s today?” Grandfather asked, hobbling past his family members so that he could go to the living room.

Then he plopped himself down at the low table with a pained grunt. He had a bad knee, but he refused to sit on the couch, which would be easier than sitting on the floor. And like his wife, his hair was gray all the way through. But he kept it short and neatly combed. 

“Yes, dear, that’s today,” Grandmother replied patiently, going into the kitchen for a moment and returning with a teapot she could hardly carry. She also had a tea cup in hand, which she set in front of her husband, shakily pouring some steaming hot tea into it afterwards.

Then she went back to the kitchen and returned with another three tea cups. “Come have something to drink, you two. We should discuss what to do about dinner.”

“What’s there to discuss?” Grandfather asked curtly, adjusting the collar of his button-up shirt. “Just make whatever you like best.”

Grandmother waited until she had poured tea for everyone, and then she sat beside her husband, coughing into her handkerchief again before finally answering him.

“Well, I was planning on letting our guests decide on something we could order over the phone. My hands are too stiff to cook a proper meal these days, and Ah-chan never likes what I cook anyway, so I thought it would be nice to treat ourselves to something special. It’s too bad she couldn’t come this time . . . I wanted to see how much our little Ah-chan has grown since last year.”

“Ah-chan?” Grandfather looked around the room, not being subtle about making sure his model airplanes were all safely in their places. “Where is she?” he asked, turning towards his son. “And where’s that wife of yours? And the other boy . . . the strange, quiet one.” He looked at his wife. “What’s his name again?”

“Kazuki,” Grandmother prompted as she brought her tea cup to her lips, taking a sip of it. 

“They couldn’t make it this time,” Mr. Matsukawa added, bowing his head slightly to apologize.

“Why not?” Grandfather demanded, furrowing his eyebrows, which were just as thick as his son and grandson’s were. “Don’t they care about your mother’s birthday?”

“I didn’t want to bring this up until after dinner,” Mr. Matsukawa said reluctantly, once again resembling a little boy who didn’t want to be scolded. He was staring at his tea cup to avoid his father’s gaze.

But then he appeared to steel his resolve, taking a deep breath and speaking with more confidence as he looked up at his father. “Yuko and I decided to take a break from our relationship. She’s staying with her parents in Tokyo, and the twins are with her.” 

Grandfather shook his head, making a noise in his throat that could only be described as pure disapproval. “What a fine mess you’ve made for yourself.”

“It’s not permanent,” Mr. Matsukawa continued meekly.

He hunched down and looked away from his father, as if he was ashamed of himself, until he happened to glance at his son. That seemed to lend him some strength. His confidence returned to him, as did his sense of pride. He suddenly sat taller and squared his shoulders. 

Issei noticed this, and it made him happy. He mimicked his father’s body language. 

“Issei chose to stay with me,” Mr. Matsukawa said with a small grin, still looking at him. “He’s a smart boy. His grades have improved ever since I’ve taken over his care, and he never slacks on his responsibilities. He’s even decided to attend Tohoku University, just like I did, and he’ll be able to get a job at my company after that. I’m sure he’ll make us proud as he follows in my footsteps.”

“Is that so?” Grandfather’s harsh gaze landed on Issei, and he assessed him in a judgemental manner.

Then he nodded ever so slightly. For him, that was a seal of approval, and not one that was given lightly. “There’s nothing better than a smart, loyal son.”

After a pause, his eyes grew sharp, piercing right through Issei’s soul. “But there’s nothing worse than a willful, sneaky, stupid one who puts himself before everyone else and brings shame to his family. You remember that, boy.”

Issei nodded, feeling a bead of sweat drip down the back of his neck.

He was trying not to look away, though it was difficult to maintain eye contact with someone whose expression was so intense and full of preemptive criticism, which was enough to make him feel guilty for things he hadn’t even done.

And his grandfather’s aftershave—smelling strongly of whiskey, wood, and leather—was overwhelming his senses. He had hardly noticed it at first, but now it was impossible to ignore, and he could feel a headache coming on. 

“What should we . . .” Grandmother turned to cough into her handkerchief again, clearing her throat afterwards. “What should we do about dinner?”

“Whatever you want,” Grandfather said, waving a hand dismissively. Then he finished his tea in one go. 

Grandmother lifted the teapot and refilled her husband’s cup. “Well, if it’s not any trouble, I think I’d like to go out somewhere.”

“That’s a great idea,” Mr. Matsukawa said with a smile. His father might have earned his respect through fear, but his mother had earned it through love, and that made all the difference in how he addressed each of them. “I’ll take us all wherever you’d like to go, Mother. My treat.”

“Oh, thank you, dear,” Grandmother said, reaching across the table to pat her son’s hand. “You’ve always been such a thoughtful boy.”

“Let’s make it our new yearly tradition,” Mr. Matsukawa suggested. His expression was more cheerful and relaxed than it had been that entire day. 

And so, the four of them called a taxi and went into town, having a meal at Grandmother’s favorite restaurant. It was better for everyone that way. Grandfather always behaved a bit more kindly in public, Grandmother wouldn’t have to cook or clean, Mr. Matsukawa could earn favor by paying for the meal, and there wasn’t as much pressure on Issei when it came to avoiding actions that might earn him disapproval.

However, he didn’t particularly enjoy himself, and it was a great relief when they dropped his grandparents off and headed home, taking the train rather than spending more money on taxi rides.

The best part of his day was shutting himself in his bedroom, where he finally got to read all the texts Takahiro had sent him over the course of the afternoon.

On a Friday night near the end of February, Issei was doing karaoke with Takahiro, Oikawa, Iwaizumi, Yuda, and Suzuki. They had invited the other first-years, but Sawauchi and Shido were both sick.

At the present moment, Yuda and Suzuki were singing a romantic duet together. It was their fifth or sixth of the evening. For as reserved as Suzuki usually was, she seemed to enjoy staring into Yuda’s eyes as they sang to each other, and her singing voice was much better than his. 

Everyone else was sitting on the two couches that surrounded a low table, which was covered with the food that had arrived a few minutes earlier.

“There’s something I wanna ask you,” Takahiro said, waving a french fry at Oikawa, who was across the table from him. “But I don’t want you to get mad.”

Issei was sitting beside Takahiro, and he glanced at him, wondering what was on his mind. 

“Whatever it is, I won’t get mad,” Oikawa promised as he peeled the skin off some of his fried chicken. “Ask me anything.”

“If that leftie spiker wasn’t at Shiratorizawa, would you have gone there instead of our school?” Having just finished the last of his fries, Takahiro took one of Issei’s fried shrimp, popping it in his mouth. “You know, since they’ve got the top rated team in our prefecture.”  

Oikawa was chewing his food, so he didn’t answer right away. But he did seem to be seriously considering the question.

“I guess I’m just wondering if that guy’s the only reason you didn’t wanna go there,” Takahiro continued, taking another one of Issei’s fried shrimp and dipping it in some sauce. “Like, did you avoid the school you’d rather go to just ‘cause of him?”

“Well, even if it wasn’t for Ushiwaka, that school was never going to be an option for me,” Oikawa finally replied. “Iwa-chan wouldn’t have been able to go there.”

“Why not?” Issei asked, looking at Iwaizumi, who was drinking juice through a straw. 

“It’s expensive as fuck,” Iwaizumi said as he shook his glass to move the ice around. 

“Exactly. You see, we both come from single parent homes, but I’ve also got my sister. And she actually pays for most of my schooling,” Oikawa explained. “Do you guys know how much Shiratorizawa costs per year?”

Takahiro shrugged. “I dunno, probably a lot.”

“It’s a fancy place,” Issei added. “I’ve heard there’s horses there.”

“The tuition is double what our school costs,” Oikawa said, focusing half his attention on peeling his fried chicken, eating only that part and leaving the meat. “Now, my mom and sister both work, so they might’ve been able to swing that. But Iwa-chan’s dad couldn’t. Not if he wants enough of his savings leftover to put Iwa-chan through college.”

“You don’t need to go around airing out my family’s financial situation,” Iwaizumi grumbled. “We get by just fine.”

Issei turned to Takahiro and whispered, “How much does our school cost?” 

“Not sure,” Takahiro replied. “My parents deal with all that stuff.”

“Our school costs a little over 700,000 yen a year,” Oikawa said as he leaned towards Iwaizumi, drinking down the rest of his juice through the straw, which earned him an irritated look. He ignored it in favor of continuing the discussion. “For a private high school, that’s about average these days. But when you compare it to Shiratorizawa’s 1.6 million a year, well, let’s just say that’s a big enough difference to make the choice easy. Not that we even considered it—certain people had already polluted Shiratorizawa with their presence.”

“Wow, I never realized how much school costs,” Issei remarked, dipping one of his fried shrimp in some sauce before putting it in his mouth.

“That wasn’t a factor for you?” Oikawa asked. “You know, when you were picking a high school.”

Issei finished chewing before he replied. “No, not really. We only picked Aoba Johsai because Yuda was going there.”

Takahiro nodded in agreement, and then he stuffed his face with the last of Issei’s fried shrimp. 

“Wait, for real?” Yuda had just finished singing, so he and Suzuki came to join their friends at the table, sitting across from each other. There wasn’t room for them to sit side by side. “I only went with Aoba Johsai ‘cause that’s where Ume-chan wanted to go.”

“I guess we have you to thank for bringing us together,” Oikawa said, glancing down at Suzuki, who was now beside him. There was a huge difference in height between them. 

Suzuki smiled and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, meeting Yuda’s gaze from across the table. “It’s nice how it all worked out, isn’t it?”

After making goo-goo eyes at his girlfriend for a few seconds, Yuda looked at Issei, who was closest to him. Then he reached past him to squeeze Takahiro’s shoulder. “I’ve had the best time with you guys.”

Takahiro leaned in front of Issei so that he could ruffle Yuda’s hair. “Same here, dude.”

Caught in between the affection his two friends were displaying, Issei grinned, feeling grateful for the people he was with. Going to Aoba Johsai may have been a somewhat last minute decision, but he was convinced that no other school would have been as good a fit. He just wished the uniforms were a bit more flattering on him. From the first time he wore his, he hadn’t quite liked how it looked, and the rude comments from his classmate on the first day of school had solidified his negative opinion of it. 

They were all wearing their school uniforms, having gone right from practice to Oikawa’s house, and from Oikawa’s house to karaoke. Their white blazers were slung over the back of the couches, along with their sweater vests and winter coats. It was a cold night, but inside of the small karaoke room, it was warm and stuffy. So they had all removed their outer layers. 

After eating the last bit of skin off his fried chicken, Oikawa pushed his plate away and wiped his hands on a napkin. “I’m done with this.”

“What a waste,” Iwaizumi scoffed as he stared at the plate. “Did you seriously just eat all the skin and leave the meat?”

“I wasn’t that hungry. Besides, the skin is the best part,” Oikawa replied, dabbing the corners of his mouth with his napkin. “If you don’t want it to go to waste, why don’t you finish it for me?”

“I’m not your garbage disposal,” Iwaizumi muttered, though he slid the plate over and started eating the meat off the bones. 

Meanwhile, Oikawa grabbed two microphones from the stand right beside the table, holding one towards Takahiro and speaking into the other. “Let’s sing another duet, Makki.”

“Meh, I don’t wanna sing anymore,” Takahiro said, shoving a whole daifuku into his mouth. That made his cheeks puff out, and he spoke as he chewed it. “Isn’t our time about to be up, anyway?” 

Suzuki nodded. “If we don’t leave soon, we’re gonna have to pay for another hour.”

“Crap, I’m supposed to be home by ten,” Issei said, checking his phone for the time. “That’s in five minutes.”

“Uh-oh, we better get going,” Yuda said, getting to his feet and reaching for Suzuki, who took his hand and let him help her up. Then they both started getting their vests, blazers, and coats on. 

“Well, that settles it. No more songs,” Oikawa said as he put the microphones back, stretching his arms over his head afterwards. Then he stared at Iwaizumi, who was nearly done with the rest of the fried chicken. “Hurry up, Iwa-chan, we don’t have all night.”

“Don’t boss me around,” Iwaizumi said, shoving Oikawa off the couch. And just to make it seem like he wasn’t doing what Oikawa wanted him to do, he waited a few extra seconds to get up. 

Oikawa quickly put his extra clothes on, and then he threw Iwaizumi’s vest at his face, pretending to be helpful. The only thanks he got was an elbow to the ribs. 

At that point, Issei and Takahiro got up and put their outer layers on. Then they all left the small room they had been using for karaoke, going down the cold hallway, which grew even colder when they made it to the exit. 

Once they all stepped outside, Yuda and Suzuki bid everyone farewell and crossed the street. He always escorted her all the way home whenever they went out together. 

Since there wasn’t any time for loitering, Iwaizumi and Oikawa immediately headed towards their side of town, while Takahiro and Issei went in the opposite direction. Their neighborhood was about thirty minutes away from the karaoke place, and Issei was anxious about getting home past curfew. He had never been late before.

But there was nothing he could do now aside from giving an earnest apology—that is, if his father was even home yet. 

Every now and again, usually on Friday nights, Mr. Matsukawa didn’t come home until past midnight because he went to have dinner and drinks with his coworkers. According to him, it was necessary to maintain good bonds with them if he wanted to advance in the company. 

Issei could only hope this was one of those Friday nights. 

There was snow all around Issei and Takahiro as they made their way down the sidewalk, and they both pulled mittens and hats out of their jacket pockets, putting them on for warmth. Issei also had a scarf, which he dug out of his sports bag. He wrapped it around his neck and covered his mouth with it to protect his lips from the breeze. 

“It’s freezing out here,” Takahiro said through clattering teeth, rubbing his mitten-clad hands together. 

“Want my scarf?” Issei offered, already beginning to take it off. 

“Nah, it’s okay,” Takahiro replied, the clack of his teeth still sounding between words. “I’ll be fine.”

With a slight grin and a shake of his head, Issei finished unwinding his thick woolen scarf. Then he looped it around Takahiro’s neck a few times, until it was covering the lower half of his face, leaving only his eyes peeking out from under his hat. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” Takahiro said, his voice muffled by the fabric over his mouth. “Aren’t you cold now?”

“I’m alright,” Issei replied, turning up his collar. “My jacket’s thicker than yours is, and I’ve got an extra shirt on under my uniform.”

“Oh, good thinking. I should’ve done that,” Takahiro said, putting his hands in his pockets. “Thanks for the scarf.”

“No problem,” Issei replied.

He tried not to talk much after that. His lips were dry from the weather, and even several layers of chapstick wasn’t helping. 

So a comfortable silence fell between them as they continued on their way. 

But they were walking at a fairly quick pace. Because of that, Issei almost slipped on a patch of ice several minutes later, barely avoiding a hard fall. 

“Whoa there, you better be careful.” Takahiro grabbed Issei’s elbow and held it firmly. “Can’t have you breaking your arm again.”

“Yeah, that would really suck,” Issei remarked, letting Takahiro hold onto him as they started walking again, a bit slower this time. 

Eventually, they looped their arms together, staying like that until they made it to their neighborhood. 

Once they were in front of Issei’s house, they did their usual handshake and parted ways, with Takahiro going on ahead towards his own home. They both would have preferred to have a sleepover, but that was out of the question thanks to Issei accidentally staying out past curfew.  

It was dark and quiet when Issei unlocked his front door and stepped inside, taking off his wet shoes and damp socks. Then he put his house slippers on. And he chose not to announce himself—if his father was working on something in his office, it might have slipped his notice that he was running late. 

Issei wouldn’t lie if asked about what time he got home, but he wasn’t going to draw attention to it either. 

The air inside the house was almost as cold as it was outside, since Mr. Matsukawa didn’t like running any of the space heaters unless someone was there to appreciate it.

However, the kotatsu table was all set up in the living room, and Issei almost went to sit with his legs under it. That would warm him up nicely after such a long, cold walk. 

But he still had the distinct smell of the karaoke place clinging to him, so he decided to take a shower first.

With his coat, hat, and mittens still on, he walked down the long hallway, passing the bedrooms that his sister and brother no longer occupied, both of which were still empty aside from the furniture. The doors were open, and he glanced in each room as he passed by, getting hit with a pang of loneliness. 

It had been almost six months since his mother and younger siblings moved away. He talked to them on a fairly regular basis, but he still felt their absence. 

Just past Kazuki’s old room, located on the opposite side of the hallway, was Mr. Matsukawa’s office. The door was cracked open, leaving a bright sliver of light on the hardwood floor. 

Issei needed to pass that to get to his bedroom at the end of the hallway. Not only did he want to avoid interacting with his father—lest he get called out for his late arrival—there was also a draft coming from somewhere that made that part of the house especially cold. 

So he walked quickly, intending to duck into his room for a change of clothes, and then sneak back across the hallway to slip into the bathroom.

If he was lucky, his presence would go unnoticed.  

Right when he was tiptoeing past the office door, he thought he heard the sound of someone crying, which made him stop to listen more closely. He had never seen his father cry before, so he had a hard time believing it was him. But there was no one else it could be. 

He hesitated near the door, unsure of what to do. It seemed as though he only had two options: knock to announce himself and perhaps offer the comfort of a shoulder to cry on, or walk away and pretend he didn’t hear anything in the first place.

After several seconds of consideration, he went with the first option, pulling his mittens off and gently knocking on the door. There was no response. He assumed his father wanted to be left alone with whatever he was feeling, so he was about to resume his journey down the hallway. 

But right as he was tucking his mittens in his pocket and turning away, he heard his father’s voice. 

“Come in.”

Issei did as he was told, pushing the door open and stepping into the room. By the look of his father’s red, swollen eyes, he had indeed been crying. However, there was almost no trace of sadness left on his face now. He had already hidden it. 

“I’m afraid I have some bad news,” Mr. Matsukawa said, speaking in a tone that felt strangely formal. “Your grandmother passed away this afternoon.”

Issei hadn’t been close with his grandmother at all, and he had only attended one funeral in the past, which was for Takahiro’s grandmother. But he understood that his father would want him to go, especially considering their current circumstances. Yuko wasn’t likely to come and offer her support.

“The wake is at noon tomorrow,” Mr. Matsukawa continued. “My father doesn’t want us coming tonight, so we’ll need to leave first thing in the morning to help with the preparations, and we’ll be staying with him over the weekend. Pack an overnight bag and make sure you bring nice clothes. Do you have a black suit?”

“My old one’s too small,” Issei said, pulling his hat off and tucking it into his sports bag. He really wasn’t looking forward to spending multiple days at his grandfather’s house.

But he felt bad for thinking only of himself, so he silently vowed to put his own comfort aside for the sake of his father.

“Let’s go see if one of mine fits you,” Mr. Matsukawa decided, sounding grim and determined. He stood up and led Issei out of his office, going up the hallway towards the front of the house.

His bedroom door was near the entryway. 

Once they were there, the two of them went into the large walk-in closet. There was enough space for several people to stand without feeling crowded. 

“Figure out which one fits the best,” Mr. Matsukawa said as he picked out three different black suits, handing them to Issei without looking at him. “Make sure you put the others back when you’re done.” 

“I will,” Issei promised, holding the suits against his chest. 

“I’ll be in my office sorting out details for tomorrow,” Mr. Matsukawa said, turning to leave the closet, though he briefly paused in the doorway. “Please don’t disturb me.”

After that, Issei was left alone in the walk-in closet, which was half empty, containing only his father’s vast collection of suits, ties, and loafers, as well as a handful of casual outfits. 

Yuko had taken all of her clothes and shoes with her when she moved away. And for some reason, seeing so much empty space in there made it occur to Issei that his parents separation wasn’t just a short-term thing, even if they hadn’t gotten a divorce yet.

It seemed very likely that his mother had no intention to return. She and the twins were probably never coming back home, and that realization hit him like a ton of bricks. 

His body felt heavy and numb as he stripped down and tried on the suits. Most of them fit relatively well, since his father wasn’t that much taller than him now. They were just a bit loose. But with a belt, the pants would stay up just fine, so he picked the suit he liked best and returned the others to their original places. 

He brought the chosen one with him to his room, laying it out on his bed and hanging his sports bag on the back of his chair.

Then he packed a few changes of clothes in the suitcase that he kept in his closet, focusing on that to avoid wallowing in the feelings he was working through. His hope for living with all the members of his family again someday was flickering like a candle in the wind, growing weaker and weaker, until it went out completely. 

As he warmed up and rinsed off in the shower several minutes later, he thought about his parents’ irreparable relationship, his grandmother’s sudden death, and his uncertainty over what the next few days of staying with his grandfather would bring. 

All of that kept him awake for hours once he was finally in bed. There was a long weekend ahead of him, and unfortunately, he wouldn’t be going into it well-rested. 

The next morning, long before the sun was even up, Issei and his father solemnly got dressed in black suits, under which they wore extra layers for warmth. The air inside the house was cold, and outside, it was freezing. There was still snow covering the ground as far as the eye could see.

After a light breakfast, they set out for the train station with their suitcases in hand. They needed to be at their destination before Grandmother was taken to the funeral home. As was the custom, she had spent one final night in her own home, and Mr. Matsukawa wanted to be there when the body was moved.

During the train ride across town, it took all of Issei’s focus to remain upright and alert, willing himself to stay awake. His sleepless night had left him quite tired, and it didn’t help that he and his father were sitting down. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open, clutching his suitcase to keep it from falling off his lap. The rhythmic whooshing and clanking sounds that filled his ears as the train moved along was almost enough to lull him to sleep. 

And just like the last time he and his father went to his grandparents’ house, the journey was filled with tension, though this time that tension was coated in grief. 

Mr. Matsukawa’s eyes were red and puffy, even more so than they were before, making it seem likely that he had spent much of the night awake and in tears. And he hadn’t spoken more than five or six words all morning. 

Nowhere in Issei’s memories could he recall ever being in a situation where his father looked so vulnerable and broken, as if he were in desperate need of comfort. He hardly even remembered the handful of times his father had comforted him when he fell and scraped his knee as a young child, though he was usually just given a pat on the shoulder and advice to walk it off in those instances, rather than any actual displays of sympathy. 

So he had no idea how to go about the act of comforting his father. Clearly, this wasn’t a situation where one should be told to walk it off. A hug would be more fitting, but his father hadn’t hugged him since he was a toddler, and the very thought of doing so left Issei feeling awkward. Physical intimacy between them had all but died out completely by the time he was eight or nine years old. 

Issei wanted to put a hand on his father’s shoulder as they rode the train in silence. But every time he started to reach for him, he was unable to close the distance. 

After several subtle attempts like that, he gave up and put his hand in his pocket, wrapping his fingers around his cell phone, which was on silent. He had texted Takahiro the night before to say that he wouldn’t be home over the weekend, and to let him know that he might not be able to send texts very often while he was with his father and grandfather. He also wouldn’t be able to make phone calls when they were around.  

Because of how difficult it would be to find moments of solitude, he likely wouldn’t get to speak to Takahiro at all for a few days. And the prospect of going that long without seeing his face or hearing his voice left Issei with the feeling that he would be missing a piece of himself. 

He and his best friend had been together so often over the course of their lives that they were practically a matching set. Without one, the other was incomplete. 

Less than thirty minutes later, Issei and his father made it to his grandparents’ house, where the procession that would take his grandmother’s body to the funeral home was being prepared. Many of his distant relatives were already there, all dressed in black and gathered on the snowy sidewalk, waiting patiently for the hearse to arrive. It pulled up right after Issei and his father joined the crowd. 

There was hardly time to greet anyone before Issei got swept away, and he found himself in a car with his grandfather and father, making for a very somber ride. They drove right behind the hearse, arriving at the funeral home before too long. 

At that point, Mr. Matsukawa and Grandfather busied themselves with speaking to one of the funeral home employees, so Issei did his best to stay out of their way.

To pass the time, he watched as several large arrangements of flowers were set up near his grandmother’s photo, all of which were located behind the casket. It reminded him of when he attended the funeral for Takahiro’s grandmother. The memory of that day elicited more emotion from him than the current situation did, and he felt rather guilty over that. 

But he just hadn’t known his grandmother well enough to miss her, and he couldn’t change the fact that he didn’t feel close to her. At most, he regretted not getting to spend more time with her, though he wouldn’t have wanted to spend any more time with his grandfather to accomplish that. She hardly went anywhere or did anything without her husband in tow.  

When all the preparations were complete, guests started to arrive, and the wake began precisely at noon. It mostly consisted of a monk reciting some loud sutras. The immediate family members—which consisted of Grandfather, Mr. Matsukawa, and Issei—came up to pay their respect and offer incense, followed by the rest of those in attendance. 

That concluded the wake. 

Everyone started filing out of the large hall, with unrelated guests leaving for the day and relatives moving to the building right next door, where there would be a meal and plenty of alcohol. 

Issei was overwhelmed by the crowd of distant relatives he rarely ever saw, so he lingered behind, waiting until the large hall was empty. Then he went over to stare at the picture of his grandmother. He felt like he owed her an apology for not spending more time with her, and he almost uttered those words out loud. 

At the entrance of the room, one of the double doors slowly slid open, allowing a tall, lanky man who hadn’t been at the wake to stealthily slip inside. He was dressed less formally than one might expect. Instead of a suit, he was wearing dark gray skinny jeans with a black turtleneck sweater, which was skin tight. It was as if he didn’t have a suit and had simply put on the darkest clothing he owned.

The man had black hair that almost reached his waist. It was all one length, and he had it parted far to the left of his face, tucked behind his ear on that same side. It was all gathered and pulled forward over his opposite shoulder.

After peeking around outside the door like he wanted to make sure no one had seen him come in, the man softly shut it and backed into the large hall. 

Issei heard the sound of the door sliding closed, so he turned around right as the man did, which brought them into each other’s field of view from across the room. 

And then the man froze in place, staring at Issei with wide eyes, as if he hadn’t expected anyone to be there.

The man seemed kind of familiar somehow, but Issei couldn’t quite place him.  

A few beats of awkward silence passed before the man came further into the room, cautiously approaching the casket with steps that were a little stiff and unbalanced. His thick eyebrows were knitted together, and he was smiling nervously, never looking at Issei for more than a single second at a time. 

Even if this man was acting a bit peculiar, he was likely in his late thirties or early forties. So he was Issei’s elder.  

And that was more than enough to earn a respectful attitude from Issei, who spoke in a polite voice. “You missed the wake—it ended a few minutes ago. The guests already left and all the relatives went next door.”

“I know,” the man replied, running his fingers through the hair that was draped over his shoulder. He had just reached the casket, so he took some incense, holding it to his forehead before adding it to the burner.

Then he closed his eyes like he was praying. 

Issei watched him closely, trying to figure out why he looked so familiar. And thanks to his intense need to satisfy his curiosity, he forgot his manners for a moment, speaking right as the man was bowing to the portrait.

“What’s your name?”

That question seemed to startle the man. He spun around to face Issei, bumping the small table that held the incense bowls, which were almost knocked over.

After scrambling to fix his mistake, he wrung his hands together, glancing at Issei and answering him with a hesitant question. “Why do you ask?”

“You seem really familiar. I think we must have met before, maybe a long time ago.” Issei suddenly realized how impolite he had been to demand the name of a stranger without even giving his own first. So he bowed as he introduced himself. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I’m Matsukawa Issei.” Then he nodded towards the portrait. “My grandmother’s the one who passed away.”

“Your grandmother?” The man’s shifty eyes grew as wide as saucers, and he pointed at the casket. “This is—was—your grandmother?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Issei said, wondering why that news was so shocking to the man. “I’m her grandson.”  

“What you’re saying,” the man continued, gently tapping the casket with his fingertips, “is that the person inside of here, this woman, is—was—your grandmother?”

“Yes,” Issei confirmed, beginning to feel a bit impatient. “Her son is my dad, and that makes her my grandmother. Kinda how that works.”

The man let out a nervous chuckle.

Then he wrapped an arm around his waist, covering his mouth with his other hand as he paced back and forth in front of the casket. He kept glancing at Issei, his gaze never lingering for long.

“Your dad, uh, he’s . . . his name? What’s his name?”

“Matsukawa Katashi . . .” Issei watched the strange man warily. “Uhm, are you alright?”

“Hm? Mmm. Mhmm,” the man replied, still covering his mouth with his hand.

But after a few more seconds of pacing, he stopped in front of Issei, staring at him as he twisted his fingers through the ends of his hair again.

“I can . . . hmm . . . yeah, I can see the resemblance. Ha . . . wow . . . yep, this is . . . it’s . . . life sometimes, it really . . . surprises . . . full of those.”

Issei decided that he should remain as calm as possible for the sake of this man, who was obviously prone to fits of nervousness. “I still haven’t gotten your name.”

Upon hearing that, the man acted like he was fraught with indecision. He glanced at the door, then back at Issei, then back at the door again, all while twisting his fingers through his hair over and over. It almost seemed like he wanted to make a run for it.

“If I tell you who I am . . . will you promise not to mention that I was here?”

An odd request, but it was easily done. And it greatly added to Issei’s rising level of curiosity. “Sure, I promise not to say anything.”

After taking a deep breath and shaking his hands out, as if he was trying to get rid of his anxiety, the man finally introduced himself. “I’m . . . my name’s Matsukawa Hiraku . . . You’ve heard of me, I suppose?”

“I haven’t,” Issei replied as he tried to piece things together in his mind. “I’ve never heard anything about you.”

Hiraku’s expression quickly flashed between shock, disbelief, and disappointment, eventually settling on gloomy acceptance.

“Well, that’s . . . I guess that’s not surprising. I’ve never heard anything about you, either,” he said, crossing his arms. Then he cracked a hesitant grin. “I guess I’m your . . . I’m . . . well, apparently, I’m your uncle. But as far as our relatives are concerned, I’m nobody. Nothing. Might as well be dead,” he added, glancing at the casket with a mournful look in his eyes. “If our places were switched, she’s the only one who would’ve wanted to come to my funeral.”

“Why doesn’t anyone ever talk about you?” Issei asked, suddenly remembering that during one of his parents’ arguments, his father very briefly mentioned a brother.

He had completely forgotten about that until now. 

“Erm . . . just reasons, things from a long time ago . . . it doesn’t really matter,” Hiraku mumbled, moving to stand in front of the casket, which gave him a good view of his mother’s portrait. “Still, I think my mom . . . I’m sure she would’ve wanted me here. She’d probably be mad that no one told me about it.”

“If no one told you about it, how’d you find out?” 

“Luck,” Hiraku sighed as he absentmindedly twisted a few strands of his hair. “That is, if you can really call it that. My roommate works here, and as soon as he found out who the wake was for today, he sent me just about a million texts.”

“Your dad didn’t contact you, even for something this important?” Issei couldn’t imagine what his uncle might have possibly done to deserve that level of isolation from his own family. 

Hiraku laughed softly, almost bitterly, and shook his head. “No, he probably didn’t even consider it. He hasn’t talked to me in . . . Well, it’s been a very long time. Same with my aunts and uncles, and my cousins.”

“I don’t mean to pry, but I’m dying to know why they don’t talk to you anymore,” Issei said as he put his hands in his pockets. The large hall they were standing in was almost as cold as it was outside.

“You know, we probably shouldn’t say d-y-i-n-g in front of certain people,” Hiraku whispered, pointing his thumb at the casket.

It was clear that he was just trying to redirect the conversation.

“You’re right, we should talk somewhere else,” Issei agreed, nodding towards the door at the far end of the room, which led outside. He had countless questions, and he would much rather get them answered than have to mingle with his distant relatives. “Let’s go to the coffee shop across the street.”

“Oh . . . Uhm, I would love to, but I think you’d be missed before too long,” Hiraku said as he started running his fingers through his hair again. He could hardly go a full minute without doing that. “It would cause a scene if your dad found you with me . . . and honestly, I don’t have the emotional energy to deal with that right now.”

All of a sudden, one of the funeral home employees quietly walked into the room through a door that led further into the building, not drawing any notice in the process. It was a man with a strong build and a confident demeanor, whose platinum hair was secured in a neat bun sitting high on the back of his head. He was dressed in a fitted black suit that complimented his figure, and he was wearing white cotton gloves, like all the other employees in the building. 

As silent as a shadow, he came to stand right beside Hiraku, who leapt up into the air upon noticing an unexpected person in the room. 

“Oh my god, Fumi, don’t sneak up on me like that! You scared me half to death!” Hiraku exclaimed, leaning forward to put one hand on his knee and pressing the other to his chest.

After recovering his wits, he turned towards the casket. “We almost got to be death buddies, didn’t we, Mom? How funny that would be, if everyone found me in there with you. Dad would probably have a heart attack. Hmm . . . You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

He held his hair back as he leaned forward, looking in the little window that allowed his mother’s face to be viewed. His eyes softened as he stared at her.

Then he smiled sadly and whispered, “Give me a sign if you want me to climb in there with you.”

Meanwhile, the newcomer briefly put a hand on Hiraku’s lower back, as if apologizing for startling him. They were around the same height, which was at least ten centimeters taller than Issei, though Hiraku seemed shorter than he really was thanks to his slouchy posture. 

“Hello,” the newcomer said to Issei, bowing respectfully. “I’m Kishi Fumihito, the owner of this facility.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Issei said, bowing in response. “I’m Matsukawa Issei.”

“This boy is my nephew, Fumi, and he didn’t even know I exist,” Hiraku whispered as he turned around and grabbed the sleeve of Kishi’s suit jacket, giving it a frantic wiggle. “Can you believe it?”

As he allowed his sleeve to be pulled on, Kishi looked between Issei and Hiraku, his eyes widening ever so slightly, though his expression remained neutral and polite. “I didn’t know you had a nephew.”

“Neither did I,” Hiraku replied, keeping his voice unnecessarily low. 

“You’ve actually got two nephews,” Issei corrected, putting his hands in his pockets again. “And a niece.”

“Really?” Hiraku glanced around excitedly, like he had forgotten that there was no one else in the room. “Are they here? Can I meet them?”

His excitement suddenly faded, and then he reached for his hair, twisting it around his fingers. “Ah, no, that’s probably . . . I shouldn’t do that. I’m already pushing the boundaries of how much stress I can deal with in one day. Oh, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt to just . . . I don’t know, stare at them through a window.” He looked at Kishi, who was still right beside him. “Would that be weird?”

Kishi studied Hiraku’s face for a few seconds, as if he were either concerned about him or contemplating his question in earnest. 

“They’re not here,” Issei said, fiddling with some lint that he had just found in the pocket of his father’s suit. 

“Ah. Well, that’s fine, then. It’s enough to find out they exist at all,” Hiraku mumbled, crossing his arms and slouching. He kept shifting his weight and restlessly adjusting his feet. “I can’t believe I’m an uncle . . . three times an uncle. A terrible uncle, really, with all the birthdays I’ve missed.”

He suddenly folded his hands over his stomach and slouched even lower, as if he wasn’t feeling well. “Ugh, what should I do, Fumi? This is too much to process. Maybe I should . . . well, no, nevermind.”

“Has anyone else seen you?” Kishi asked as he scanned the room with a calm, serious gaze. His eyes were a rich, earthy brown, providing an interesting contrast for his pale hair.

“No, I don’t think so,” Hiraku replied, straightening up his posture as he looked around. “Oh, I shouldn’t have stayed this long. I only meant to pay my respects and make my escape, but then I ran into Issei-kun, and well, I couldn’t help sticking around after that. It’s not every day you become an uncle at a funeral.”

“I don’t think the others are coming back today,” Kishi noted, glancing towards the door that led outside. “But just in case, why don’t we head to my office and continue this conversation there.”

“I want to, yes, but I’m afraid someone might come looking for my nephew,” Hiraku said, grabbing Kishi’s sleeve again. The way he said nephew made it seem like he enjoyed saying the word, or perhaps that he was proud to be able to say it. 

“Even if they did, they wouldn’t know where to find him,” Kishi promised, turning towards Issei with a confident smile. “Would you join us for some tea in my office?”

“Sure,” Issei said, feeling a thrill over how things were playing out. Even with how tired he was from getting barely any sleep the previous night, he was suddenly full of energy. 

Once the plan was agreed upon, the three of them left the room through a different door than the main entrance, using the one Kishi had come through. It led them deeper into the building. And after going through a maze of short hallways, they finally made it to the door of an office, which was for Kishi’s personal use. 

“Make yourselves at home,” Kishi said, stepping into the room and holding the door open.

When the others were inside, he closed it behind them and went over to a counter that was below some cabinets, taking his white cotton gloves off and setting them down. There was a mini fridge on the counter, and with how tall he was, he had to stoop over quite a bit to look around in it, which was almost comical.

“Any preference on which kind of tea?” he asked. “There’s black or green or barley, and I’ve also got a few cans of coffee.”

“Anything’s fine,” Issei said, sitting in a wide lounge chair. 

Hiraku sat on a sofa that was across from it, with a small, low table between them. Then he rested his hands on his lap and started tapping the pads of his fingers against each other. He stared at Issei like he wasn’t sure what to say, never meeting his gaze for more than a few seconds. 

Their eyes were the exact same shade of brown, and their features were strikingly similar, almost more so than Issei and his father’s were. 

Like his uncle, Issei also found himself at a loss for words. All of his questions swirled around in his mind, getting mixed up and tangled, and the silence was growing awkward.

Fortunately, Kishi had years of experience dealing with many kinds of people, and he was able to help things along as he pulled some cookies out of a cabinet, arranging them on a tray.

“You mentioned having a brother and sister, Matsukawa-kun?”

“Yeah, they’re twins,” Issei replied, taking his phone out so he could show off some pictures. He got one on the screen and held it out towards his uncle, who leaned over the table to get a closer look. “That’s Asami, and that’s Kazuki.”

“They don’t look as much like your dad as you do,” Hiraku remarked, resting his elbows on his knees as he examined the picture. “Well, then again, you’ve all got the Matsukawa family eyebrows—our most defining feature, and the source of endless misery for me in elementary school. But their noses are different. Oh, and your brother’s hair seems a little curly, like yours. Do you get that from your mom?”

“Yeah, we got that from her. I’ve got a picture of her in here somewhere,” Issei said, clicking through photos until he came to one of his mother.

Then he moved to sit next to his uncle on the sofa so that it was easier to show him the screen. “Her name’s Yuko.”

“She’s beautiful,” Hiraku said, studying the picture for a moment. “You said your siblings aren’t here. Does that mean your mom didn’t come, either?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Issei said. “They moved to Tokyo last summer for my mom’s new job. My parents are kinda separated right now, and the twins live with her.”

“Oh . . .” Hiraku glanced at Issei with a mix of sympathy and curiosity. “So, uh, did you choose to stay with your dad, or . . .?”

“It was my choice to stay here. I didn’t wanna move away from my best friend,” Issei explained, clicking through his phone to find a picture of Takahiro, which didn’t take long at all. There were plenty of them. “This is Hanamaki Takahiro. We’ve been friends since we were babies, and we live right down the street from each other. I don’t think I could get by without him.”

“He’s got such a nice smile,” Hiraku said. “And his hair almost looks pink. Does he dye it?”

“No, it’s naturally like that,” Issei replied, grinning softly as he looked at Takahiro’s picture. “His mom has red hair, so he and his sisters all have a lot of red highlights that look kinda pink sometimes. His is the most pink, though. His older sister’s is more red, and his little sister’s is actually dark brown like their dad’s, but she’s still got a little bit of red in there.”

“Your face lights up when you talk about them,” Kishi observed, bringing the tray of cookies over and setting them on the low table. He went back for three bottles of tea, handing them out before taking the seat Issei had originally been sitting in. “Are you all close?”

“Yeah, I grew up with them,” Issei said with a nod, closing his phone and balancing it on his lap so he could open his tea. “Takahiro’s mom watched me when I was a baby, up until I started school. We’ve always been close.”

Kishi smiled, though for some reason, there was sadness in his eyes. “That must have been a fun childhood.”

“It was,” Issei replied, feeling like the conversation was focusing on him more than his uncle. So he looked at him and tried to remedy that. “What do you do for work?”

“Such a mature question,” Hiraku said, taking a small sip of his barley tea before answering. “I work for a publishing company. Novels sometimes, but mostly manga.”

“How long have you been doing that?”

“Hmm . . .” Hiraku thought about it for a moment, using his fingers to keep track as he counted under his breath. “A little over twenty years now.”

“Twenty-three years,” Kishi confirmed, sitting with his legs crossed. “He started working there when he was seventeen.”

“Wow, you’ve got a good memory.” Issei glanced back and forth between the two of them. “How long have you guys been roommates?”

“We’ve lived together since I was twenty, but we met when I was nineteen,” Hiraku said as he and Kishi looked at each other. Then he grabbed a cookie, taking a large bite of it and looking away to study a painting that was on the wall.

“That’s a really long time,” Issei remarked, getting himself a cookie and nibbling on it.

Then he thought of another question.

“Is it just the two of you, or do you have more roommates?”

“We don’t have any other people living with us,” Kishi replied, sounding slightly amused.

“Must be pretty cool to live with your friend like that,” Issei said, thinking about how nice it would be if he and Takahiro could do something similar when they were older.

Kishi and Hiraku exchanged another meaningful look, but like the other one, it went unnoticed by Issei, who had become momentarily distracted by getting a drink of his tea. 

“Yes,” Hiraku finally said, staring down at the tray of cookies with a shy smile. “It’s very cool.”

Issei stared at his uncle for a few seconds, noticing how much of his father he could see in him. They really did have a strong resemblance, though Hiraku’s face didn’t have the same stern, sharp quality that Mr. Matsukawa often displayed. It was their expressions and mannerisms that were the most different between them. 

All of a sudden, Issei’s phone screen lit up. It was still on silent, and if not for the fact that he had it balanced on the top of his thigh, he wouldn’t have noticed that he was getting a call. 

When he saw that it was his father, he quickly flipped it open, putting it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Where are you?” Mr. Matsukawa demanded. 

“I’m . . .” Issei glanced at Hiraku and Kishi before coming up with a response. “I had to use the toilet.”

“You can’t just disappear on me without saying anything.”

“Sorry.” Issei stared at his bottle of tea, feeling a slight pang of guilt over lying. “I’m almost done.”

Mr. Matsukawa sighed. “Well, hurry it up, would you? We’re supposed to eat soon and your grandfather doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Okay,” Issei said. “I’ll be right there.”

His father hung up without saying goodbye, so Issei closed his phone, slipping it into his pocket. 

“Wow . . . he sounds so much like our dad,” Hiraku said weakly. A great change had come over him. He was rather pale in the face, his eyes were glossed over, and his hands were shaking enough to make his tea wobble inside the bottle. “I know it’s silly, but I feel like they might come crashing through the door any second now.”

“They don’t know where we are,” Kishi said in a calm, reassuring voice.

Then he reached across the table, taking the bottle of tea from Hiraku before it could slip out of his hands. 

Hiraku turned to Issei, though it seemed like he wasn’t able to focus on him. “Would be nice to, uhm . . . to . . . uhm . . . chat again.” He was trying to get his phone out of the pocket of his skinny jeans, but he wasn’t having much success. “Your number?”

“Sure, you can have my number,” Issei said. He had already been planning on offering it.

Right after Hiraku finally managed to get his phone out, he dropped it between his feet, and he almost hit his forehead on the table when he reached down to get it. 

However, Kishi had seen that coming, and he managed to slip his hand in between Hiraku’s forehead and the edge of the table just in time. Then he got up and grabbed the phone off the floor, handing it to Issei, who quickly added himself as a contact and set it on the table afterwards. 

“If you’ll excuse me,” Hiraku whispered as he began to slide down the front of the sofa, until he was sitting on the floor.

Then he scooted underneath the low table, which was only big enough to cover the top half of his body. His legs were sticking out, stretching across the floor, and they were both shaking incessantly, one more so than the other. 

Issei didn’t know what to make of that. He just sat there and stared, unsure of what he should do or say. 

Meanwhile, Kishi went over to the mini fridge and pulled a bag of ice out of the tiny freezer compartment, bringing it to the low table and bending down to nudge it against Hiraku’s thigh.

One of Hiraku’s hands suddenly popped out, grabbing the bag of ice and yanking it under the table. 

After that, Kishi got his white cotton gloves from the counter, slipping them on. Then he ushered Issei towards the door.

“I’ll escort you back to the main hall.”

“Thanks,” Issei murmured, though he lingered in the doorway so that he could look back at his uncle. 

Hiraku’s legs were still shaking uncontrollably, and beneath the table, he had an arm covering his eyes. He was using his free hand to hold the bag of ice against his chest, right below his throat. But his turtleneck sweater was keeping it from coming in direct contact with his skin.

“Let’s give him some space,” Kishi said, putting a hand on Issei’s shoulder so that he could guide him all the way out of the room. 

Once the door was closed behind them, Issei glanced at Kishi, who didn’t seem to be alarmed by what they had just seen. “Is he okay?”

“He will be,” Kishi replied as he led Issei down the hallway. His tone hadn’t been unkind, but there was a sort of firmness and finality to it, making it clear that he wouldn’t be volunteering any other information. 

As they went through the maze of hallways, Issei stared at Kishi’s platinum hair, wondering how long it was when it wasn’t in a bun. 

And then Kishi broke the silence, sounding more gentle than before. “Are you doing alright?”

“What do you mean?” Issei asked. 

“You just lost your grandmother,” Kishi clarified, stopping in front of the door that led into the main hall. It was closed, and he left it that way for the time being. “Are you processing it alright?”

“Oh,” Issei said. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Kishi hummed, crossing his hands behind his back. “Is that so?”

“We weren’t that close,” Issei explained, hoping he didn’t come across as an awful grandson. “I only see my dad’s parents once a year for like, three or four hours.”

“I see,” Kishi said. “That must’ve made it hard to form a connection.”

“Yeah,” Issei agreed as he looked down at his feet and put his hands in his pockets. “Now that she’s gone, I kinda wish I would’ve spent more time with her. But to do that, I’d would’ve had to see my grandfather more often, and . . . well . . .”

“You don’t like him?” Kishi guessed, studying Issei’s face. 

“Not really. He’s hard to be around,” Issei said, feeling strange about admitting that out loud. Then he sighed. “I dunno, maybe I should make more of an effort while I’ve still got the chance. I mean, he’s family, so I guess I owe him some of my time.”

“Not all family members are worth spending time with,” Kishi remarked coolly. For a moment, there was a dark look in his eyes, but it was gone before Issei had a chance to see it.

And then his polite, confident demeanor returned to him. “When it comes to things like that, you should trust your instincts, Matsukawa-kun. Always pay attention to how you feel when you’re around different people. Can you be yourself? Do they listen to you? Do they make you feel wanted and valued? The answer to those questions will tell you everything you need to know about whether or not they deserve a place in your life.”

After saying that, Kishi finally opened the door.

“Thanks for the advice,” Issei said as the two of them stepped into the hall that held his grandmother’s body.

Much to his dismay, his father was in there waiting for him, and it stopped him in his tracks. 

As soon as Mr. Matsukawa spotted Issei, he hurried over to him, hardly giving Kishi any notice. “I checked the restroom, but you weren’t there. Where have you been this whole time?”

Issei could tell his father was angry, but he knew he wouldn’t make a scene when Kishi was there. “Uh . . .”

“We ran into each other when he was coming out of the restroom,” Kishi said, looking down his nose at Mr. Matsukawa, who was a bit shorter than him. “He was curious about what goes into running a funeral home, so I took a moment to give him a tour while explaining it to him. I apologize for any concerns that delay may have caused.”

“Please forgive my son for interrupting your work,” Mr. Matsukawa said, eyeing Kishi’s platinum bun as if he didn’t approve of it. “He should know better than that.”

Kishi narrowed his eyes ever so slightly. “I assure you, it was no trouble at all. He was very well-mannered and respectful.”

Hearing that seemed to appease Mr. Matsukawa’s temper. “Well, in that case, I appreciate how generous you were with your time. We’ll take our leave now.”

“Of course,” Kishi said, bowing as they walked away. 

Once they were out of earshot, Mr. Matsukawa shot Issei a sharp look. “You have no reason to be pestering that man about how his job works. Don’t waste people’s time with silly questions, and don’t go wandering off again. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir,” Issei said as he and his father reached the door of the building.

Before stepping outside, he looked back at Kishi, wishing he could thank him for coming up with a cover story. 

Kishi was still standing at the opposite side of the room, and he gave Issei an encouraging smile before turning around and disappearing through the door that led into the hallway. 

Once they were outside, Issei followed his father towards the building next door, shivering as he noticed a little snowman someone had built in a nearby planter. It was so poorly constructed that it made him grin. 

He desperately wanted to ask his father about Hiraku, but he had a feeling that his father would be upset if he brought up his estranged brother. And he had also promised not to mention that Hiraku was around. 

Because of that, he put his curiosity aside and focused on getting through the meal with his grandfather and their distant relatives, which was a fairly unpleasant affair.

That evening, when Issei was back at his grandfather’s house, he passed the time by helping his father go through Grandmother’s possessions, which would be donated the following day. 

It would seem that Grandfather held no sentimentality when it came to the personal belongings of his late wife. He didn’t want to keep any of her things, and he demanded that all of it be sorted into boxes before they went to bed, so they all stayed up late working on that.

Issei was beyond exhausted and wasn’t really in the mood for sorting through things. But he used that opportunity to snoop for clues about his uncle, and he hit the jackpot when he found an envelope in the corner of the closet, hidden in a box filled with random trinkets that his grandmother must have collected throughout her life. 

Mr. Matsukawa and Grandfather had stepped out of the bedroom to make some coffee, so there was no one else there when Issei opened the envelope. Inside was a stack of pictures. 

The first one was of Mr. Matsukawa when he was about four or five years old, and there was a newborn baby in his arms. Clearly, that baby was Hiraku, who was in every single one of the pictures. Sometimes he was by himself or with his brother, and sometimes he was with his mother. 

There wasn’t time to look through all of them, so Issei put them back in the envelope and shoved it down the front of his sweatpants, tucking it under the band of his boxers, which was the only place he could hide it.

Then he dug through the box of trinkets, checking to see if any of them seemed particularly special. 

The only thing that really stood out to him was a journal, and he took a moment to skim a few pages, reading only the first line.

Each one said the same thing: My dearest Hiraku.

Beyond that, it seemed like each page was written like a letter to him. 

Making a split-second decision, Issei hid the journal in his sweatpants as well, though he had to tie the strings of his waistband extra tight to keep it from falling.

Then he stood up and shuffled out of the room. 

Moving as silently as he could, he crept past the kitchen, where his father and grandfather were still making coffee. Or rather, Mr. Matsukawa was making coffee while Grandfather pointed out all the ways he was doing it wrong.

Once he was near the entryway, Issei knelt down in front of his suitcase, quietly opening it so that he could slip the envelope and journal inside of it. Then he closed it and backed away. 

His heart was hammering in his chest as he returned to his grandfather’s bedroom. Since everything was destined for donation anyway, it didn’t quite seem like stealing.

But he knew he wouldn’t have had permission to take those things. 

The atmosphere of the house was already a million times more stiff and suffocating than normal without his grandmother’s presence, and that was made even worse by the guilt and paranoia he felt over taking things that didn’t belong to him. He didn’t think he would be able to relax until he made it home.

Unfortunately, he had the rest of the weekend to get through before that could happen. 

The next day, the funeral proceeded.

Like the previous day, loud sutras were chanted by a monk. And then Grandfather stepped forward to stand before the casket, adding incense to a burner, praying, and bowing to his wife’s portrait. Mr. Matsukawa did the same, and Issei went right when his father was done. Then their distant relatives approached the casket one by one to repeat that process, and after that, they bowed to Grandfather, Mr. Matsukawa, and Issei as an act of sympathy and respect. 

When that was done, the casket was opened and everyone took turns placing flowers around Grandmother’s body.

Then they all went to the crematorium together. It was located on the same property as the funeral home, and once they got there, they all said their final goodbyes. 

That whole time, Issei was subtly scanning his surroundings, wondering if his uncle was watching from somewhere nearby. He hadn’t gotten a text from him yet. But he had seen Kishi throughout the proceedings, finding him once again in the crematorium.

When they first saw each other, they both nodded in silent, subtle acknowledgement. 

After the furnace was lit, everyone aside from Kishi left the crematorium and gathered at a nearby dining hall to eat a large meal together. 

At that point, Issei looked around for his uncle again, though he was aware that he wasn’t likely to find him. Based on what little information he had, he knew his uncle wouldn’t be welcome.

And he was still eager to learn the reason for that.

He thought about that a lot over the next few hours, and when it was time for him and his family members to gather around the cremated remains and place the bones in an urn, he wondered if his grandmother would have been upset that one of her sons was left out of the last interaction anyone would ever have with her physical form.

When the urn was filled and sealed, it was given to Grandfather, along with the portrait of his late wife. Mr. Matsukawa and Issei escorted him home after that. The plan was to stay with him like they had the previous night, just in case he needed anything. 

But once they stepped into the house, Grandfather nodded at the suitcases that were near the entryway, speaking in a sour tone as he hobbled past them.

“Gather your things and go home.”

Mr. Matsukawa paused midway through switching his shoes for slippers. “Are you sure, Father? We were planning on keeping you company . . . I was even going to take the day off from work tomorrow.”

“I don’t need company,” Grandfather grumbled, shuffling across the room to set the urn on an altar.

Then he placed the picture of Grandmother beside it and struggled to sit down in front of it, hindered briefly by his bad knee.

“Besides, skipping work won’t look good, will it?” He shook his head in disapproval and shooed them away with one hand, not even bothering to look back at them. “Go on, now, get out of here. Let me have some peace and quiet.”

With a soft sigh that was barely audible, Mr. Matsukawa put his shoes back on and grabbed his suitcase, motioning for Issei to do the same. “Alright then, Father. We’re going now. Call me if you need me.”

Grandfather let out a “humph,” and that was the only farewell they received. 

Going home was by far the most preferable outcome for Issei, who hadn’t wanted to spend any more time with his grandfather after such a long weekend, especially since he was still feeling guilty about the things he had taken without permission. His mind was also full of unanswered questions, and he wanted to mull those over in the privacy of his own bedroom, where he could organize his thoughts better. 

However, when he and his father were riding the train, he figured out a way to ask about his uncle in an indirect manner. 

And while they were walking home from the train station, he worked up his courage, deciding to go for it.

“The funeral went well, don’t you think?”

Mr. Matsukawa had been silent ever since leaving Grandfather’s house, and it took him a moment to register Issei’s words. He didn’t respond for several seconds.

“It went as well as anyone could expect, given the nature of these things.”

“Do you think Grandfather was upset that the whole family wasn’t able to make it?” Issei asked, referring to his mother and siblings, but also alluding to his uncle. 

“He didn’t seem to be,” Mr. Matsukawa replied, looking and sounding thoroughly exhausted as he walked along, holding his suitcase in one hand and keeping his other in his pocket.

It was a particularly cold night, but it was also beautiful. There was moonlight reflecting off the snow that blanketed all the rooftops in the area.

“He knows your mother and I are separated right now, so I don’t think he expected her and the twins to be there,” Mr. Matsukawa continued. “It was probably better that they weren’t, anyway. I’m sure your sister would’ve caused some kind of commotion.”

Issei frowned. His plan wasn’t going as well as he hoped, and he didn’t like hearing his father talk badly about his sister.

So he tried again.

“It must be hard for you as the only child, now that Grandfather lives alone. Will you have to take care of him more often?”

Something unrecognizable twisted Mr. Matsukawa’s features, but he answered the question in a rational and detached manner. “When my father gets too old to care for himself, it does fall on me to care for him . . . and I’ll do that as well as I can. But he values his independence. I don’t think much will change any time soon—not if he has anything to say about it.”

There had to be a way to force the truth out, and Issei was mentally scrambling to come up with what he could say to do that, though he was trying not to make it obvious.

“Yeah, that makes sense. I was just thinking about how you have three kids, so you’ll have all of us taking care of you when you get old. Do you think your parents ever wished they had more kids?”

Once more, something unrecognizable twisted his father’s features. But it was too dark out for Issei to properly analyze it. 

“They had more than enough,” Mr. Matsukawa said in a sharp tone, finally breaking his composure. “My father only has me to rely on now, and that’s just the way it is.”

It took every bit of Issei’s willpower not to ask about his uncle directly at that point, since his father was basically denying his very existence. 

However, something told him it wouldn’t be wise to press any further, so he held his tongue. If his father was that insistent about keeping Hiraku a secret, there was no reason to push him to the point of anger. 

After all, there were other ways for Issei to find out what he wanted to know.

Chapter Text

Age 16

The beginning of March arrived just a few days after Grandmother’s funeral, and with it came Issei’s sixteenth birthday. 

The first thing he saw when he woke up that morning was a tall box, which was leaning against a wall beside the open bedroom door. His father must have put it there before leaving for work. He was usually just given money on his birthday, so he hadn’t been expecting a gift like this. 

He went right over to the box after getting out of bed, kneeling down in front of it and looking at the picture on the front. It was a futon, and if not for the fact that the box was sealed, he might have thought something else was inside. Although his father wasn’t the type to hide a gift in multiple boxes, unlike Mr. Hanamaki, who enjoyed playing that kind of harmless prank when giving someone a present. 

There was an envelope taped to the side of the box. Inside of it was about 15,000 yen and a handwritten note from his father, which he read as he set the money on his desk.

Happy birthday, son. 

I’ve considered your request and I’ll allow you to have a sleepover tonight as long as you make homework and studying a priority. Remember that it’s a school night. And as you’ve probably guessed, the futon is for Hanamaki-kun to use from now on. You’re much too old to be sharing a bed. 

P.S. I trust that you’ll spend the money responsibly. Save at least half of it.

Issei grinned, leaving the note on his desk and then hurrying to get dressed in his uniform. He had really been hoping that his father would let Takahiro stay the night. 

Even though it had been two whole days, he hadn’t told Takahiro about his uncle, but he planned on doing that as they walked to school. And when they got home at the end of the day, he would show him the pictures and journal he had swiped from his grandfather’s house. He hadn’t even looked through those himself yet. That was partly because he was feeling hesitant about reading through someone’s private journal, though it would also just be more exciting if Takahiro was there to help him piece things together. 

Once he was ready for school, he went over to the Hanamaki house, letting himself inside like he always did on weekday mornings. Mr. Hanamaki never failed to leave the door unlocked for him when heading out for work, though they often ran into each other in passing. 

However, because Issei was running a few minutes late this morning, Mr. Hanamaki was already gone. That disappointed him a little bit—the only time he consistently got to see Mr. Hanamaki these days was first thing in the morning. His father was still being strict about how often he could come hang out or have dinner with the Hanamaki family, and he was lucky if he and Takahiro got to have one single sleepover per week. 

He missed the days when he and Takahiro would spend a solid week at each other’s house, trading off like that over the summer and even doing so when school was in session. But to his father’s credit, his grades were better than they had ever been thanks to how regularly he studied now, and he knew his father was proud of him for that. He was also much better at cooking than he used to be, what with how he still made dinner almost every night. 

Wasting no time after coming into the house and slipping off his shoes, Issei dashed up the stairs, taking the steps two at a time. Then he hurried down the hallway and went into Takahiro’s bedroom.

As usual, Takahiro was still asleep. 

“Wake up,” Issei said, yanking off the covers. “We’ve gotta leave for school in twenty minutes.”

“That means I’ve got fifteen more minutes to sleep,” Takahiro grumbled as he curled into a ball. 

“Guess you don’t wanna hear about the secret I’ve been keeping,” Issei said, knowing there was hardly anything more motivating to his best friend than curiosity. 

Takahiro peeked an eye open, looking at Issei over his shoulder. “What kinda secret?”

“A really interesting one,” Issei replied. “You’d never guess in a million years.”

“Alright, you’ve got my attention.” With a stretch and a groan, Takahiro sat up in bed, shivering briefly as he adjusted to how cold it was in the room.

He got up and peeled his pajamas off, slowly getting into his uniform. After his plaid pants and plain undershirt were on, he buttoned up his lavender dress shirt, missing a button and having to redo it.

Then he stared at Issei expectantly. “Well, don’t just leave me hanging. What’s the secret?”

“I’ll tell you once we’re outside,” Issei said, grabbing Takahiro’s red tie and putting it on for him.

Takahiro looked away as Issei finished securing his tie, making it so they weren’t breathing right in each other’s faces. “Do you actually have a secret . . . or were you just tricking me so I’d get up faster?” 

“It’s a real secret,” Issei said, grabbing Takahiro’s sweater vest and handing it to him.

Then he snagged Takahiro’s white blazer off the back of the desk chair, holding it up and giving it a shake. 

Once he had very slowly put the vest on, Takahiro walked up to Issei and stuck his arms in the sleeves of his blazer, putting it on backwards on purpose. That brought them face to face. He met Issei’s gaze, cracking a lazy grin and raising an eyebrow, which was his way of saying he wasn’t going to cooperate until he got his way.

“Tell me now, then. You know I hate waiting.”

Issei shook his head as he pulled Takahiro’s blazer off, turning him around and putting it on properly. “Not until we’re outside.”

“Being stubborn, are we?” Takahiro sat on the edge of his bed and crossed his arms. “Well, two can play that game.”

“Really?” Issei grabbed socks out of Takahiro’s dresser, kneeling in front of him afterwards. “Do you want me to be late for school on my birthday?”

“Of course not,” Takahiro said, still crossing his arms as he held up one foot, letting Issei slip a sock on it. “We shouldn’t go at all. You know, to give us more time for celebrating. And sleep.”

“If we ditch school, my dad won’t let you stay over tonight,” Issei pointed out, getting Takahiro’s other sock on before standing up. “And then you won’t get to see the other secret I’ve got.”

“What’s with all these secrets?” Takahiro asked, getting to his feet and putting his hands on his hips. “And how long have you been keeping them?”

“You’ll get your answers,” Issei said, gesturing towards the bedroom door. “But not until we’re outside.”

“Fine,” Takahiro muttered as he snatched his sports bag, tossing it at Issei, who caught it easily. Then he left the room, speaking over his shoulder as he went. “I’ve gotta take a leak and freshen up. Meet me downstairs in ten minutes.”

“Five minutes,” Issei countered, checking his phone for the time as he followed Takahiro out of the room. “We’ve gotta leave soon.”

“Seven minutes,” Takahiro insisted. He walked into the bathroom, staring at Issei as he started closing the door, until only one of his eyes was visible. “Unless you want me to skip brushing my teeth.”

“I’ll be timing you,” Issei teased, pulling the door closed all the way.

Then he went downstairs, heading for the kitchen, where Misumi was cooking breakfast. 

“Happy birthday, hun,” she said, grinning at him. “I’m making you boys a special breakfast.”

“Thanks, it smells really good,” Issei said.

He almost always had breakfast at Takahiro’s house before leaving for school, but it was usually just a bowl of leftover rice with an egg over it, or something similarly quick and easy. They didn’t have enough time to sit down for a big meal. And today was no exception, so they would have to eat Misumi’s cooking in a hurry. 

“Would you do me a favor?” Misumi asked as she put bread in the toaster. 

“Sure,” Issei replied. “What’s up?”

“Will you go knock on Rei-chan’s door?” Misumi pulled some plates out, setting them on the counter before going back over to the stove, where bacon and eggs were cooking. “I don’t think she’s up yet.”

“Yeah, be right back.” 

Issei left his and Takahiro’s sports bags on the floor of the kitchen. Then he hurried back up the stairs, going over to Rei’s bedroom door and knocking on it. There wasn’t a reply. 

So he knocked again and said, “Hey, are you awake?”

“Yeah,” Rei called out. “Will you come in here for a minute?

Issei opened the door, and he was met with the sight of Rei, who was frantically crawling around on the floor in her pajamas. As usual, there were piles of paper all over the place. 

“I need some help,” Rei said as she reached around under her bed. “I can’t find my leggings.”

“Do you think they might be in the laundry?” Issei asked, stepping into the room and looking around for the leggings that Rei always wore with her school uniform. 

“I already checked my laundry basket.” Rei got to her feet, heaving a frustrated sigh. “I can’t find them anywhere!”

“Can’t find what anywhere?” Takahiro asked, appearing in the doorway. 

“My leggings,” Rei replied with a frown. “I don’t know where they are.”

“They’re on the floor in the bathroom,” Takahiro said, checking his phone for the time. Then he smacked Issei’s shoulder and winked at him. “Hey, we better get going. Don’t wanna be late on your birthday.”

“It’s your birthday?” Rei asked as she darted past them, grabbing her leggings from the bathroom and quickly returning. “I thought it was still February.”

“Nah, it’s the first day of March,” Takahiro said, grabbing Issei’s elbow and pulling him towards the stairs. “The most important day of the year! Aside from January 27th, of course.”

“Happy birthday,” Rei shouted as the two boys went down the stairs. 

“Thanks,” Issei called out over his shoulder.

Then he and Takahiro went downstairs and hurried to the kitchen, grabbing their sports bags and putting them over their shoulders. 

While they were there, Misumi handed each of them a plate with a bacon and egg sandwich. She also gave them mugs filled with hot chocolate. They both thanked her before scarfing down their sandwiches and gulping down their drinks, and then it was time to leave for school. They had a whole forty-five minutes of walking ahead of them. 

As soon as they stepped outside, Takahiro gave Issei an impatient look. “Well?”

Issei closed the door behind them before saying anything. “Listen, you can’t tell anyone what I’m about to tell you. Promise you won’t. Swear it.”

The tip of Takahiro’s nose quickly became red from how chilly it was that morning, and his ears also took on a subtle shade of pink, matching the natural highlights in his hair.

For several seconds, he stared at Issei’s face without saying anything. It seemed like he wasn’t sure how he should react. 

Then he glanced at Issei’s lips. They were a bit dry and cracked, so he pulled some chapstick out of his pocket, handing it to him as he finally gave a response.

“I’d never go around talking about stuff you told me in private.”

“I know,” Issei said, putting some chapstick on before giving it back. “It’s just a really big deal, and it’s gotta stay between us no matter what.”

Takahiro slid the chapstick in his pocket, followed by his hand. He rubbed the back of his neck with the other one and tried to meet Issei’s gaze, though he ended up looking away after just a few seconds.

“Okay, well, I swear I won’t tell anyone about whatever you’re gonna tell me.”

“I don’t even know how to explain it,” Issei said as he started walking away from the house, with Takahiro following along at a sluggish pace. 

“Way to drag it out,” Takahiro joked, though his expression was guarded. Both hands were in his pockets now, and he was staring at Issei’s back, walking behind him rather than beside him. “I’m starting to think you enjoy making me suffer.”

“My dad isn’t supposed to have any siblings,” Issei said. “You knew that, right?”

“Yeah, I think about it every day,” Takahiro deadpanned. Beneath his sarcasm, he seemed slightly disappointed over where the conversation was going, as if this topic was far from what he expected it to be. “What’s that got to do with anything?” 

“He lied,” Issei said. “He isn’t an only child.”

“Huh.” Discovering that Mr. Matsukawa wasn’t always honest didn’t surprise Takahiro, nor did it appear to interest him all that much. “So he’s got a brother or sister running around out there? Or was there like, some kinda accident when he was a kid that turned him into an only child?”

“He has a brother,” Issei replied. “A secret brother.”

“A secret brother?” Takahiro finally came to walk right beside Issei, linking arms with him. His interest in the topic at hand was slowly but surely increasing. “Like, the brother used to be a sister but he hasn’t come out yet?”

“No, like he’s an outcast that nobody talks to anymore,” Issei clarified. 

“Oooh, so he’s a social pariah,” Takahiro said, perking up like he was fully invested now. “What’d he do to end up like that?”

“I dunno,” Issei replied, wishing there wasn’t so much wind blowing at his face. It was irritating his lips, so he pulled his own chapstick out of his sports bag, putting another layer on. Then he stuck it in his pocket, where he could get to it more easily when he needed it again. “He didn’t give me a clear answer when I asked about it.”

“So you actually saw him?” Takahiro asked. “Oh, wait, was he at your grandma’s funeral?”

“No, he showed up after everyone else left,” Issei said. “He didn’t wanna be seen.” 

“Okay, so is he the one who stopped talking to them, or did they stop talking to him?”

“I’m not sure,” Issei said. “I’ll ask him next time we talk.”

Takahiro hummed, keeping his and Issei’s arms securely linked together as they reached the edge of their neighborhood. “And when’s that gonna be?” 

Issei shrugged. “I dunno, I haven’t heard from him yet.”

“Hey, I know,” Takahiro said. “Let’s text him tonight when we’re having our sleepover.”

“I don’t have his number.”

“But he has yours?”

“Yeah,” Issei replied, putting both hands in his pockets without releasing Takahiro’s arm, which was still firmly wrapped around his own.

The wind was finally at their backs, and even though the temperature was low enough for him to feel a bit chilled, he wasn’t uncomfortable.

“I gave it to him after we hung out for a bit.”

“Alright, hang on,” Takahiro said. “Back up and tell me the whole story, starting from the beginning. I feel like I’m missing some pieces.”

After that, Issei told Takahiro about how the previous weekend had gone, revealing all the details he had skipped over. They talked about it the entire time they were walking to school. And once Takahiro learned that there were pictures and a journal that might give them more information, he was even more excited about being allowed to have a sleepover for Issei’s birthday. 

When the two of them got home from practice that evening, they cooked dinner together. Or rather, Issei cooked dinner while Takahiro sat on the counter, offering assistance in the form of providing Issei with someone to talk to, which was much more pleasant than when he was cooking by himself. 

It was just past eight o’clock when they finished eating and cleaning up after themselves. That meant they had an hour or two before Mr. Matsukawa got home from work, so after they took turns using the shower, they huddled together on Issei’s bed and began to look through the photos of his uncle. 

There were several dozen of them, ranging from when he was a baby until about middle school, based on how old he looked in the last of them. There were none from when he was in high school or beyond. 

“You know, your uncle looks a lot like you did when you were this age,” Takahiro remarked, staring at a photo of Hiraku when he was six or seven years old. “He’s even super skinny, just like you were.”

“He’s still super skinny,” Issei said as he studied the picture he was holding, which was of his father and Hiraku when they were about five and ten respectively. “And he’s a bit taller than my dad.”

“Ah, so the younger brother gets to be taller.” Takahiro grinned and nudged Issei’s leg with his knee. “Just you wait, I bet Kazu’s gonna be taller than you when he grows up. Seems like that’s how it always happens.” 

“Hmm, maybe,” Issei murmured, looking at another picture, which was of his grandmother and Hiraku sitting together in a backyard he didn’t recognize. It must have been his father and uncle’s childhood home. “I feel like he’s shorter than I was at his age though.”

“Well, that’s probably ‘cause he doesn’t drink any milk,” Takahiro said as he grabbed another photograph, setting the other one down in the pile that was between their outstretched legs. “He’s so picky about that. I mean, he’s not as picky as Ah-chan, but at least she drinks milk.”

“He can’t drink milk. It hurts his stomach,” Issei said, looking at another photograph.

This one had both of his grandparents, his father, and his uncle. It was the only one with all of them, and it seemed to have been taken at Hiraku’s elementary school graduation ceremony. 

“Really?” Takahiro picked up a few more photos, quickly glancing at each of them. “I didn’t know that.”

“Yeah, it makes him shit his pants. That’s why your mom never gave him any whenever she was taking care of him,” Issei said as he grabbed the last of the photos, which was of just his father and uncle. “You know how he never talks at school?”

Takahiro hummed affirmatively.

“A couple years ago, his teacher forced him to drink the milk that came with his lunch. She didn’t know it would make him sick,” Issei recalled. “She thought he was just being stubborn. They were all supposed to know he couldn’t have milk, but I guess that teacher was new, and she didn’t believe Ah-chan when she tried to explain things to her. He was in tears when he finally gave in and drank it. And then, well, you can probably guess how that turned out. Ah-chan got sent home for yelling at the teacher and Kazu got sent home ‘cause of how sick he got.”

“Poor guy,” Takahiro said. “Wait . . . doesn’t he eat ice cream and cheese and stuff?”

“Yeah, he does,” Issei confirmed. “Those don’t bother his stomach too bad. But if it’s plain milk, he can’t handle it.”

Takahiro picked up the journal, which they hadn’t looked at yet. He was about to flip it open.

But then Issei reached over and held it shut. “Wait, don’t read it.”

“Why not?” Takahiro asked. “Didn’t you steal it so we could read it?”

“I’ve been thinking about it all day,” Issei said, feeling a pang of guilt over Takahiro pointing out that he had stolen the journal. “If it was my diary, I wouldn’t want people looking through it. It seems kinda wrong—disrespectful, even.”

“Well, in that case, you definitely shouldn’t read it. Gotta follow your moral compass and all that,” Takahiro said, pulling the journal out of Issei’s reach.

Then he turned away and relaxed on his side, skimming through it nonchalantly. 

“Don’t you care about respecting people’s privacy?” Issei asked, listening to Takahiro flip a page in the journal. 

“Sure I do.” Takahiro had laid the journal on the bed next to him, where Issei couldn’t see it. “But dead people don’t care about privacy,” he said, glancing over his shoulder at Issei so that he could flash a cheeky grin. “Besides, I’ll be super respectful about it and not judge her for anything she wrote in here.”

For nearly ten minutes, Issei stayed where he was, watching in silence as Takahiro continued to flip through the journal.

But then his curiosity finally got the better of him. So he went to sit down right behind Takahiro’s back, leaning over him to read the page he was on. 

My dearest Hiraku,

This morning, I saw a boy about your age wearing a uniform for the high school you wanted to go to. He looked so much like you that I almost called out to him, but I wasn’t sure enough to act. It’s been so long since I’ve seen your face. Do you miss me as much as I miss you? It’s selfish of me to say this, but I hope you do. I don’t want you to forget me. It might be better if you did though. I failed you as a mother, and you should hate me for that. It’s okay if you do. I’ll love you anyway. 

“Looks like she was writing in here once or twice a month for a really long time,” Takahiro noted, skipping past a huge section of the journal. There were at least four hundred pages in total. “And it all goes the same way. Hiraku this, Hiraku that. She misses him, she loves him, she hopes he’s safe and warm and getting enough to eat.”

“I wonder what happened between them,” Issei said. “Did it say anything about that at the beginning?”

“Nah, I haven’t seen anything about what happened,” Takahiro replied. “But I’ve got a good guess.”

Issei looked at Takahiro, waiting for an explanation.

“I bet he ran away from home,” Takahiro continued. “Wouldn’t be that surprising. I mean, think about what your grandpa’s like. He gives off major jerk vibes. I only met him one time and that was enough to make me never wanna see him again. Not saying your grandma wasn’t nice or anything—she seemed fine. But if I had to be raised in the same house as your grandpa, I wouldn’t stick around any longer than necessary. I’d be gone as soon as I could fend for myself.”

“You’re probably right,” Issei said, thinking back to how unpleasant it was whenever he went to his grandfather’s house. He wouldn’t want to live there either. “And my grandpa probably took that as a personal insult, so it’s no wonder he won’t talk about him. But why would everyone else on my dad’s side of the family act like my uncle doesn’t exist?”

“Who knows what your grandpa told them after your uncle ran away.” Takahiro flipped the page, reading and speaking at the same time. “A prideful guy like him wouldn’t want it to seem like his fault, would he? He probably made your uncle out to be some kinda ingrate or delinquent or some shit. Doesn’t take much to turn people against someone, especially if he wasn’t there to defend himself.”

“I wonder if my dad knows the truth,” Issei said, hunching down so that he could rest his chest on the side of Takahiro’s body, “or if he just let my grandpa turn him against his own brother.”

“We should talk to him about it,” Takahiro suggested as he turned the page, though he took a moment to look at Issei, studying the way he was leaning down on him.

Then he smiled to himself, looking at the page again. 

“My dad?” Issei asked incredulously, not thinking that was a good idea.

“No, not him,” Takahiro replied as he flipped to the last page in the journal. “Your uncle.”

Rather than say anything else, Issei turned his attention to reading his grandmother’s final entry, which had been written just a week before her death. 

My dearest Hiraku, 

It’s been a cold winter this year, hasn’t it? I’m always freezing and I have such a bothersome cough. It won’t go away no matter how much I rest. I guess I’ll have to see the doctor about it if it keeps up much longer. Wherever you are right now, I hope you’re warm and healthy. 

You know what? Last week, I went to a store I don’t usually go to. I was looking for your father’s favorite brand of curry mix. They didn’t have it at the corner market near our house and I decided to go on a little adventure across town to find it. I was feeling braver than usual.  

When I was there, I saw a man who was around your age. He looked so much like how I’ve imagined you must look now. Everything inside of me was saying it was you. He had very long hair and I remember how you always wanted to grow your hair out when you were little. His smile was like yours, just how I remember it. He was talking to a blond man and they were both laughing about something. You always laughed like that when you were a boy, right from your belly. I could hardly believe my ears. 

I think it was you. It must have been. Let’s pretend it was you, even if it wasn’t. 

I’m sorry I didn’t come over to say hello. I was afraid that if it was really you, you wouldn’t want to see me. You were so happy and I didn’t want to ruin it. That’s why I left without saying anything. 

Can you forgive me for never being brave when it counts?

“Damn dude, that’s really sad,” Takahiro said, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, as if he were on the verge of tears. “If my mom ever wrote something like this, I’d be a mess.”  

Issei took the journal, holding it gently as he moved to lie down. “Should I give this to my uncle?”

“Yeah, I think you should,” Takahiro replied, rolling all the way over so that he was facing Issei, with his head propped up on one arm. He casually draped the other one over Issei’s stomach. “Any word from him yet?”

“No, he still hasn’t called or sent any texts,” Issei said, glancing at his phone, which was on the nightstand. “I wonder if he doesn’t actually wanna talk to me.”

“It’s only been a couple of days,” Takahiro pointed out. “He’s probably just been busy. I mean, his mom died less than a week ago. That’s gotta be a lot to deal with.”

The sound of the front door opening and closing startled Issei, and he sat up when he heard his father announce his presence from the entryway of the house.

Then he scrambled to hide his grandmother’s things, whispering, “Quick, act like we’ve been studying.”

Takahiro sprang into action, grabbing two textbooks off the desk while Issei finished hiding the evidence. They were both slightly out of breath when they finally sat themselves on the bed, leaning against the headboard and opening up the textbooks, which they put on their laps. At that point, they pretended to be very interested in what they were reading.   

A few seconds later, Mr. Matsukawa came to stand in the doorway, looking in at them with an air of approval. “Good, you’ve been studying. Did you already eat dinner?”

“Yeah,” Issei replied, not looking up from his textbook. He hoped he didn’t sound as guilty as he felt. “There’s a plate for you in the fridge.”

“Thanks,” Mr. Matsukawa said, tiredly rubbing the bridge of his nose. He turned away after that, speaking as he went. “You boys should get to bed now. Oh, and don’t forget to set up the futon.”

Once the clicking of Mr. Matsukawa’s house slippers disappeared down the hallway, Takahiro looked at Issei with a confused expression.

“What futon?”

“My dad bought a futon for you to use whenever you sleepover,” Issei replied, getting up to grab the box from where it was still leaning against the wall. 

“Why?” Takahiro asked as he closed both textbooks, putting them back on the desk. 

“He says we’re too old to be sharing the bed now,” Issei explained as he pulled the futon out of its box, getting it set up. “Guess he thinks we need more space.”

“We have plenty of space,” Takahiro muttered, glaring at the futon like it had done something to offend him.

“If you want, you can use the bed,” Issei offered. “I don’t mind sleeping on the futon.”

“No, it’s fine,” Takahiro said, grouchily taking one of the pillows off the bed and tossing it at the futon. Then he went to lie down on it, crossing his arms like he was sulking. “I’m gonna freeze to death down here.”

“Sorry.” Issei pulled an extra blanket out of the closet, draping it over Takahiro’s body. “Are you sure you don’t wanna use the bed?”

“I’m not gonna make you sleep on the floor in your own room,” Takahiro replied in a grumpy voice. Then he sighed and forced a smile. “Like I said, it’s fine.”

“Let me know if you change your mind,” Issei said as he turned off the light and got into bed, tucking himself in under the covers.

Then he stretched out his arms and legs. There was plenty of room—more than enough for another person. He didn’t understand why his father thought otherwise. 

“Goodnight,” Takahiro said from the darkness below. 

“Goodnight,” Issei replied, rolling onto his side and letting his arm dangle over the edge, which was as close to Takahiro as he could get under the circumstances.

He usually slept better when Takahiro stayed the night, but having him so far away seemed to ruin the effectiveness of that. It took longer than it should have for him to fall asleep. At one point, he almost told Takahiro to come and get in bed with him.

But he had a feeling his father would be irritated if they didn’t put the futon to use. 

So he just silently longed for the comfort of having his best friend right beside him, and based on the occasional forlorn sigh Takahiro let out, they were both feeling the same way. 

The last volleyball practice of Issei’s first year of high school took place on a Friday afternoon, approximately a week and a half after his birthday. School was out for spring break at the end of the following week, and clubs usually wrapped things up ahead of time, which meant everyone wanted to stay late at practice and make the most of it. 

The third-years had long since retired from the team, and the second-year students left an hour after practice was officially over. Now it was just the seven first-years doing an impromptu three-on-three match. Sawauchi didn’t have the energy to play anymore, so he was keeping score while Oikawa, Iwaizumi, and Shido played against Issei, Takahiro, and Yuda.

“Y’know, if we stay much later, someone’s gonna come yell at us,” Sawauchi said, flipping the numbers on the scoreboard after Iwaizumi won a point for Team Oikawa with a service ace.

Team Takahiro was lagging behind, though not by much. 

“We’ll be done after this game,” Iwaizumi called out right before serving for the second time in a row. 

“You guys said that after the last game,” Sawauchi mumbled, watching Takahiro receive the ball and send it to Yuda, who set it for Issei.

But when the ball came to Oikawa’s side of the court, he managed to score a point using a dump. “There’s no such thing as too much practice!”

“There is, actually,” Iwaizumi argued, bending down and resting his hands on his knees. “And we’re getting to that point.”

“Aw, c’mon, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said, smacking Iwaizumi’s back a few times. “You can keep going, can’t you?”

“Unlike you, I don’t like overworking myself,” Iwaizumi said as he pulled his shirt up to wipe his face. Then he flicked Oikawa’s nose just for the hell of it, smirking when Oikawa smacked his hand away. 

Iwaizumi’s next serve went out of bounds, giving the other team a point and a turn at serving. 

“Heads up,” Takahiro called out, getting ready to serve the ball.

He tossed it in the air and attempted to do a jump serve, which he was getting better and better at. Oikawa had taught him how to do them.

“Crap,” Shido said, rushing to receive the ball and failing to do so. The point went to Team Takahiro.

It was Takahiro’s turn to serve again, and he put all of his strength into it, but it hit the net on his side of the court. “Shit, my bad.” 

“No worries,” Issei said. “We’ll get it back.”

“My turn!” Oikawa exclaimed, getting a determined look on his face. He served the ball so hard that Issei nearly missed the receive. 

“Damn,” Issei said, rubbing his wrist after Yuda set the ball for Takahiro, who got blocked and lost them a point. “You’re gonna rip my arms off, Oikawa.”

“You better expect serves that are just as powerful when we’re facing Shiratorizawa in a few months,” Oikawa said, getting the ball so he could serve again. 

“They’re even more powerful than yours,” Iwaizumi corrected. “And way harder to receive. Ushiwaka’s a leftie, so it’s got a different spin.”

“Great, bring on the leftie,” Takahiro said with a cocky smile. Then he winked at Issei, who was beside him. “We love a challenge, don’t we?”

Issei nodded. “Yep, it’ll be fun.”

“Oh, it’s not just a fun little challenge.” Oikawa hadn’t served yet. He was just standing there holding the ball, and he didn’t even acknowledge that Iwaizumi had said Ushijima’s serve was more powerful than his. “It’s a battle. A war. A fight to the death.”

“What do you mean?” Sawauchi’s face paled. “It’s just volleyball. No one’s gonna die or anything . . . right?”

“Wrong,” Oikawa said, spinning the ball in his hands before doing a jump serve. “If we don’t beat Shiratorizawa and make it to nationals, I’ll literally die.”

“Wow, that’s a bummer,” Issei deadpanned as he received the ball. 

“We’ll always remember you,” Takahiro chimed in, setting the ball for Yuda, who got blocked by Iwaizumi like it was nothing.

“One less idiot for me to worry about,” Iwaizumi said, keeping a straight face as Oikawa turned to frown at him. 

“Why are you acting like we’re gonna lose?” Oikawa demanded, putting his hands on his hips. “Do you want me to die? Would that make you happy, Iwa-chan?”

“Of course not,” Iwaizumi said, offering the ball to Oikawa so that he could serve again. “You’ll be fine, you big, dramatic baby. We’re not gonna lose to Shiratorizawa anymore.”

“Yeah, we won’t let ‘em beat us,” said Issei, who was looking forward to playing against Shiratorizawa in an official game.

He just needed to be named as a starter, which was supposed to happen when he became a second-year. And that was in less than a month. 

“I can’t wait to kick their asses on the court,” Takahiro said, punching his fist. Then he glanced at the scoreboard, which showed 24-17 in Team Oikawa’s favor. “Damn, I don’t like the looks of that.” 

Yuda frowned when he saw what Takahiro was talking about. “Aw, man, they’re gonna take another set from us.”

“Don’t feel too down about it,” Oikawa crooned as he ran his fingers through his sweat-dampened hair. He was supposed to serve again, but he was taking his sweet time. “It’s only the fifth set you’ve lost.”

“Oh, shut up. It’s not over yet,” Takahiro said. “We could still make a comeback.”

“That’s an excellent attitude to have, Makki. I love your determination,” Oikawa said, tossing the ball in the air so that he could do another jump serve. “Too bad it won’t help you this time.”

Having to dive for it, Issei received the ball, sending it back up for Yuda to set. And then Takahiro spiked the ball impressively hard for how tired he must have been. It went out of bounds after Shido touched it, so Team Takahiro got the point.

Issei watched that happen with a calm expression, but on the inside, he was filled with pride. His best friend was getting stronger, and his stamina seemed to be increasing. 

“Told you!” Takahiro shouted, doing a snarky little victory dance, which ended with flipping Oikawa off. “We’re making our comeback!”

“We’ll see about that,” Oikawa said, using the sleeve of his turquoise t-shirt to wipe the sweat from under his nose and around his mouth. 

It was Issei’s turn to serve, and he didn’t have it in him to do anything fancy. He wasn’t very good at jump serves or floaters. So instead of trying to show off, he just put all his effort into a normal one. 

The ball made it over and was received by Shido, who got it above Oikawa’s head.

Before the ball even reached Oikawa’s fingers, Iwaizumi was running towards the net, making a confident approach. Then the ball was flying towards him, as if Oikawa had known exactly where he was going.

The two of them were always in sync when they were on the court. Their thoughts and actions revolved around each other effortlessly, making their quicks successful more than seventy percent of the time. And this one was part of the majority. They succeeded in taking the point, which won them the game. 

Oikawa turned to Iwaizumi, and they high-fived each other, their victory yells echoing through the gym.

Then they both went to clap Shido on the shoulder. For someone who wasn’t nearly as motivated as the rest, he had held his own. 

“Fuck,” Takahiro muttered, squatting down and letting out a sigh. “We almost had it that time.”

“You’ve been playing really well today,” Issei said as he grabbed his shirt by the collar, wiping his face on the inside of it. Then he held a hand towards Takahiro, helping him up so they could do their usual handshake. “We’ll beat ‘em next time.”

“There won’t be a next time tonight,” Sawauchi declared as firmly as he could, though he never managed to come across fully self-assured. He hesitantly started to push the ball cart towards the storage closet. “You guys said that was the last game, remember?”

“Don’t worry, we’re done now,” Iwaizumi said, sitting down on the ground and reaching forward to touch his toes. “Let’s stretch it out so we can get things cleaned up.”

Everyone who had been playing for the last few hours spent a good ten or fifteen minutes doing stretches, and then they helped Sawauchi with his cleaning efforts, though he got a lot done while they were cooling down. They were on their way out of the gym within a half hour. 

It was almost nine o’clock when Takahiro and Issei parted ways from the other first-years, giving them plenty of time to get home before Issei’s curfew, which was at ten on Friday nights. So they didn’t rush, choosing instead to walk at a leisurely pace.

The nighttime air was freezing compared to how it was during the day, and after such a long practice, that was quite refreshing. 

Issei breathed it all in, feeling a sense of contentment wash over him. He and Takahiro had successfully completed their first year of volleyball as high schoolers. 

“Let’s grab some food,” Takahiro suggested, nodding at the convenience store that they always passed on their way home. 

“Alright,” Issei said, turning towards the familiar building.

At least twice a week, they stopped there for something to eat or drink after practice. That was practically a tradition for them now.

“Hey,” Issei said, “did you hear Oikawa’s girlfriend broke up with him?”

“Yeah, I was there when it happened.” Takahiro sounded like he was pleased to have an inside scoop on the situation. “Get this—I was grabbing some strawberry milk from the vending machine at lunch today, and when I was walking back to our classroom, I saw Oikawa sneak off behind a building. Naturally, I followed him and peeked around the corner to see what he was up to.”

“Creep,” Issei teased. “So, did you hear how the breakup went down?

“Yep,” Takahiro replied. “She told him she feels rejected by him ‘cause he never kisses her or holds her hand, and he only ever talked about volleyball when they went on dates. Guess she was tired of putting up with that.”

“Wonder if that’s the usual reason he gets broken up with,” Issei said as they walked into the convenience store. “Was he super upset?”

“Not really. I mean, he didn’t exactly look happy, but he did look kinda . . . I dunno, I’d almost say he looked relieved.” Takahiro shook his head, letting out a short chuckle. “I’m starting to think he doesn’t mind getting dumped. He just acts sad to get sympathy from us so we’ll buy him milk bread, the little weasel.”

“I thought he liked this girl more than the other ones he’s dated,” Issei remarked, following Takahiro past the baked goods section. “They were together for almost three months.”

“Yeah, that’s a new record,” Takahiro said as he looked at what was left in the hot case. “They usually bail on him after a few weeks. And with how many exes he has, I’m surprised he hasn’t got caught yet. The principal would totally flip his shit if he knew how often Oikawa breaks the No Dating Rule.”

“Why do you think he accepts so many confessions?” Issei asked, picking out a big sandwich from the refrigerator that held pre-made meals. Even though he knew there were leftovers from last night’s dinner at home, he was hungry enough to eat twice. “He doesn’t act like he wants to date the girls he’s been with, and like you said, he’d get in trouble if he got caught.”

“I’ve got some theories,” Takahiro replied as he took the last two pork buns. He also grabbed an electrolyte drink. “My first assumption was that he likes boosting his ego, and having a lot of girlfriends does that for some people.”

“Sounds like that’s not your top theory,” Issei noted, selecting a bottle of tea before going over to the counter to pay. 

“Not anymore,” Takahiro said as he went to stand beside Issei, setting his stuff on the counter and digging around in his sports bag for his wallet. 

“I’ve got it this time,” Issei offered, having already pulled his own wallet out. Then he looked at the cashier. “I’m paying for everything.”

The cashier nodded, adding Takahiro’s items and giving the total. 

“Thanks,” Takahiro said, nudging himself against the side of Issei’s body. “I’ll treat you next time.”

“No problem,” Issei replied.

He put his wallet away after paying, and then they walked outside, sitting on the curb to eat.

“So, what’s your other theory?”

Takahiro had already taken a bite of his first pork bun, but a full mouth didn’t stop him from answering. “That he’s keeping up appearances.”

“What do you mean?” Issei asked, unwrapping his sandwich. 

“He’s in the closet,” Takahiro explained, taking another big bite of his pork bun and speaking with his mouth full again. “When we first met him, it only took like, three seconds for me to figure out he wasn’t straight. And I assumed he was bisexual on account of the girlfriends he’s always got. But I’ve been watching him around girls this past year, and I don’t think he’s actually into them at all—not even a little bit. He’s just gay, and he’s using those girlfriends of his to block the closet door so he doesn’t have to come out.”

Issei took a bite of his sandwich, chewing it as he considered Takahiro’s words. “You think so?” 

“I’m pretty confident about it,” Takahiro said with a nod. “I’ve got a sixth sense when it comes to that stuff. It’s like . . . gaydar, basically.”

“Gaydar?” Issei snorted. “That’s not a real thing.”

“Hey, don’t doubt my abilities,” Takahiro said, his mouth full of more pork bun. “It’s a gift. My grandma always used to say that I’ve got many hidden talents, and this is one of ‘em.”

“Sure, whatever you say,” Issei teased.

Then his phone buzzed from an incoming text. He balanced his sandwich on his lap and checked his messages, seeing one from a number he didn’t recognize. 

Hey, this is your uncle! 

I’m really sorry about how long it took to send you a text. I was dealing with a lot of stuff emotionally and then I felt bad about how long it was taking for me to say anything and that made it even harder to reach out. Can I make it up to you by having you over for lunch this weekend? Just you, not your dad. You probably already knew that but I wanted to make sure. Also, I’d prefer he doesn’t find out we know each other. Obviously I’m not saying you should lie to him or anything but maybe just don’t mention me. I’m sorry, I hope that’s not too weird for you. It’s just really complicated between us and I don’t want you getting caught up in any of that. But yeah, let me know about lunch. We could do Saturday or Sunday, whichever works best for you. Or next weekend. :) 

Issei immediately texted back with confirmation that he would love to have lunch with them, and that he was free to do so the following day.

Then he had an idea.

He glanced at Takahiro, watching him take a huge bite of his second pork bun. “You up for something top secret this weekend?”

In response, Takahiro could only nod enthusiastically. He had shoved too much food in his mouth at once. 

“Let me ask if it’s okay,” Issei said, quickly typing out a message to ask for permission.

His uncle texted back right away. 

Sure, that would be fine! We’d love to meet him. Do either of you have any allergies? Or foods you absolutely hate? And what kind of foods do you like? As long as I have a recipe, I can make just about anything. 

Issei answered his uncle’s questions, looking at Takahiro afterwards. “We’re both invited to have lunch at my uncle’s house tomorrow.”

“Nice of him to finally contact you.” Takahiro had just finished his second pork bun, and now he was working on his drink. 

“I think you’ll like each other,” Issei said. “He seems nice.”

“You know, it’s a good thing you’re bringing me along. You’re not exactly great at reading people. For all we know, he might be a criminal,” Takahiro said in a playful voice. Then he snapped his fingers. “Oh, maybe he’s with the yakuza! Does he have a bunch of tattoos?”

“I didn’t see any, and I don’t think he’s like that,” Issei said, thinking back over the brief amount of time he spent with Hiraku and Kishi at the funeral home.

He had gotten the impression that his uncle was a good-natured person. 

Somehow, Kishi seemed more likely to get into a fight or cause trouble, despite how kind and polite he had been. But that might have just been Issei’s imagination. It was hard to look at someone as big and strong as Kishi without making a few assumptions—if not for his professional appearance and considerate behavior, he would come across as someone to avoid. 

“Well, I can’t wait to meet this mysterious uncle of yours,” Takahiro said, swirling the last half of his drink around and downing it in one go. 

Issei grinned. “Yeah, it’s gonna be interesting.”

“Holy shit, your uncle must be rich,” Takahiro said, staring at the estate that he and Issei had just arrived at, which was surrounded by thick, roof-covered brick walls on all sides.

They were standing at a wide wooden gateway that revealed a stone path, leading up to a two story house.

“Oh my god, he’s totally a yakuza.”

“I doubt it,” Issei said calmly, though he was equally impressed with the unexpected size of the estate. “I’m sure he and his roommate split all the bills.”

“But didn’t you say his roommate owns a funeral home?” Takahiro asked as he and Issei walked through the wooden gateway, following the stone path towards the house. “That’s exactly what you’d expect from a couple of yakuza. I mean, how else are they gonna dispose of their rivals, huh?”

“You’ve been watching too much anime,” Issei said, though he was beginning to wonder if Kishi came from a wealthy family.

There were a few small outbuildings on the property, much like one would expect to find at a mansion that had separate servants’ quarters. But those buildings were not as well kept as the main house.

Takahiro flashed a playful smile, putting his hands in his pockets. “Think they’d kill me if I call them out on being yakuza?”

“Probably,” Issei deadpanned, walking alongside his best friend as they went up the winding stone path, which was speckled with moss and surrounded by various plants.

The entire yard seemed like it had been carefully arranged to be as lush and visually appealing as possible. There was hardly a spot of bare ground anywhere in sight. It was all trees, bushes, and flower beds as far as the eye could see.

Takahiro was looking around himself, as if appreciating the view. “Maybe we should become publishers, or morticians, or whatever it is they actually do. I wanna make as much money as them.”

“What if they’re really yakuza?” Issei teased. “Are we gonna join them and work our way up?”

“I’m not opposed to a life of crime,” Takahiro said. “Especially if it pays well.”

Issei snorted as he adjusted the strap of his sports bag, in which he had hidden the pictures and journal that used to belong to his grandmother. 

Takahiro had his sports bag as well, and they were both wearing their volleyball club tracksuits. They had told their parents that they were going to play an informal practice game with some of their teammates. Even though Issei didn’t like lying to his father, in this situation, he felt that he didn’t have any other choice.

But that didn’t lessen his guilt—a feeling which he was having far too often lately. 

When they finally reached the steps that led up to the entrance of the house, they climbed them slowly, still looking around. 

Just like the hotel they stayed at during training camp, the house was built with sliding wooden panels along the outside of the lower level. They were all open, revealing the engawa—a raised hardwood walkway—that seemed to wrap around most of the building, though there wasn’t much room for walking because of how many potted plants were lining the path. Half of them were on the outer edge, and the rest were right up against the inner wall. That left a narrow opening in the middle for anyone who wanted to walk down the engawa.

The sliding doors at the entryway were also open, leading into the genkan, where Takahiro and Issei slipped off their shoes. Then they set down their bags, glancing at each other. 

“Should we announce ourselves?” Takahiro asked, keeping his voice low. 

Issei nodded and cleared his throat, speaking loudly. “Hello? Uncle Hiraku?”

The thud of someone’s feet quickly padding along the floor sounded a moment later, and Hiraku suddenly appeared, running through the hallway that led into the house. But then he slipped, nearly shooting right past them. He landed on his butt in an ungraceful manner.

“Ouch,” Hiraku groaned, slowly rolling onto his side.

After a few seconds, he got up and brushed himself off, giving a bashful smile. His black hair was flowing down around his shoulders, and he was dressed even more casually than the last time Issei had seen him, wearing a baggy long-sleeve shirt and loose sweatpants.

“Sorry about that. These floors are so slippery, I really shouldn’t run around on them. But I always forget until it’s too late.”

Takahiro was studying Hiraku with an unreadable expression. “Well, you’re not what I expected.”

“Oh,” Hiraku said, frowning slightly and glancing away as he began to run his fingers through his hair. “I’m sorry to disappoint . . .”

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Takahiro said, giving a slight bow. “I’m Hanamaki Takahiro, Issei’s best friend. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Oh, uhm, likewise.” Hiraku bowed awkwardly in response. “My name’s Matsukawa Hiraku, but please, just call me Hiraku.”

“You’ve got a really nice house,” Issei said, looking past his uncle into the hallway, which had wood flooring, just like the area above the genkan.

And there were countless potted plants. Some were hanging from the ceiling in little baskets and others were on ledges or shelves, but most were on the floor. There were even small ones on the stairs that led to the second level of the house. 

Takahiro was also staring at the plants. “You must have a green thumb, Hiraku-san.”

“Hm?” Hiraku glanced at Takahiro, and then he looked at the nearest plant, which was almost as tall as him. He reached for it, running his thumb over one of its leaves. “No, I’m terrible at keeping plants alive. Fumi’s the one with a green thumb. He does all the watering and pruning and whatnot. Oh, and he also planted most of what’s outside. When we first moved here, there were trees on the property, but none of that other stuff.”

“Wow,” Issei said, finding himself impressed over how much care must go into maintaining so many plants. “That must be a lot of work.”

“Yeah, it is,” Hiraku agreed, smiling fondly. “Fumi’s the kind of guy who likes taking care of things. Plants, people, animals—he can’t leave them if they need help. If I wasn’t allergic, we’d probably have as many strays around here as we do plants.”

“He seems like a nice guy,” Takahiro remarked as the three of them went further into the house, stopping near the bottom of the stairs, which wasn’t far from the entryway.

Then he murmured, more to himself than the others, “A yakuza probably wouldn’t have this many plants.”

“What do you mean?” Hiraku asked, appearing rather confused and slightly concerned. 

“He’s just joking around,” Issei explained. “We were wondering how you could afford this place, and he thought it would be funny if you and Kishi-san were yakuza.”

“Oh.” Hiraku looked around himself, and then he chuckled, pulling all of his hair forward over one shoulder. “I know it doesn’t look like it now, but this place was in really bad shape when we first bought it. That’s why it was so cheap. We’ve been fixing it up bit by bit over the years—and after all this time, I guess you couldn’t say it’s a fixer-upper anymore.”

“Did you do the renovations yourself?” Takahiro asked, knocking on a wooden support beam near the stairs, as if he knew anything at all about craftsmanship. 

“No, Fumi did most of it, and he had some friends help him with what he wasn’t able to do himself. I, uh . . . well, I can’t really be trusted with power tools. Or regular tools,” Hiraku said, glancing down at his hand. He had a bruise on one finger, as if he had smashed it with a hammer, which was exactly what happened.

Then he gestured for them to follow him further into the house, since they were still standing near the stairway.

“Come on, I’ll give you the grand tour. That’ll give us something to do while we wait for Fumi to get home from work.”

They were led into the house, which had a mix of traditional and modern elements. Many of the walls were made of paper-wrapped frames that could easily be rearranged, but others had been replaced with thick wooden panels, some of which were able to slide open and closed while the rest were immovable. 

Directly to one side of the entrance, there was a small room with tatami flooring, and that led into the dining area. The kitchen was just beyond that.

Then they went back into the hallway and headed towards the other side of the house, where there was a tiled washroom that contained a spacious bathtub. A small room with a toilet was right beside it. 

Near the middle of the first floor was a room filled with couches and armchairs, all of which surrounded a large, low table. It seemed like the perfect place to have a gathering.

There were doors on the back wall that must have led into another room, but Hiraku didn’t offer to show it to them, and neither of them asked about it. 

For a brief moment, they stepped outside to look into the backyard, where there was a big pond and just as many plants as there were at the front of the house. The wall that surrounded the property could be seen in the distance, behind many tall trees, and a gravel pathway wound around the pond, with stone benches placed at the edge here and there.

There was even a narrow wooden bridge that stretched over the middle of the pond, allowing anyone who stood on it to look down at the water, which was filled with koi fish and lily pads.

Finally, they went upstairs, and the first thing Hiraku showed them was a little corner room that had tatami flooring and not much else. There weren’t even any plants, of which there had been plenty in every other room so far. Hiraku described it as a place to relax when he wanted to be surrounded by nothing. 

The next room they were shown was an office, though they only poked their heads in for a moment. It was Kishi’s corner of the house, and it was mostly filled with plants, though there were also some bookshelves and a desk. 

Then they went to the room next to it, and there were three different desks in there, as well as many drawings taped up on the walls. Calling it an absolute mess would have been accurate, though there did seem to be a system in place among all that chaos. 

“This is where I draw,” Hiraku said in a cheerful voice.

But then something suddenly occurred to him, and he dashed across the room, blocking one of the desks by standing in front of it with his arms spread out.

“I forgot to cover these up,” he said, now sounding rather panicked. “They aren’t for children to see.”

“We’re not children,” Takahiro complained, trying to peek around Hiraku’s body. His natural response when forbidden to look at something was to become twice as curious about it as he would have been otherwise. 

However, Issei’s natural response was obedience, and he calmly grabbed Takahiro’s arm to hold him back. 

“Trust me, they’re not appropriate for you,” Hiraku insisted as he snatched a blanket from a nearby chair, throwing it over his desk.

Then he let out a sigh of relief and redirected their attention by gesturing at the next desk over, which was covered with drawings of school buildings and outdoorsy places.

“I used to only do backgrounds for the other artists at work, and I still do that a lot.” He walked over to the third desk in the room, picking up a sketch that obviously hadn’t been done by him. It wasn’t anywhere near the quality of his work. “But now I also get to oversee a mentorship program for budding artists. That’s been really fun, I like it a lot.”

“When you said you work for a publishing company, I was picturing you as an editor or something,” Issei remarked, moving to get a better look at some of the drawings on the wall.

Many were scenes from nature, but there were also sketches of people and animals. Most were impressively realistic. 

“I don’t have much talent for editing,” Hiraku said. “But I’ve been at the company so long that there isn’t much I haven’t helped out with. Technically, I guess you could say I’m the owner now, ever since my boss retired and appointed me as his successor. He’s always been good to me . . . almost like . . . almost like a father, really. He took me in and gave me a job when I was, uhm, at a really low point in my life. Without him, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“So now you’re a big shot business owner,” Takahiro said as he walked around to look at the art-covered walls. 

“Well, no, not really,” Hiraku said, absentmindedly running his fingers through his hair as he watched the two boys admire his artwork. “I don’t do any of the business stuff . . . I’m only the owner on paper. My responsibilities are based on what’s needed, like, uh . . . oh! I’m the one who decides which authors and artists we’ll work with. I was really nervous about doing the interviews at first, but Fumi helped me practice, and it’s not as bad as I thought it would be. Sometimes, it’s even pretty fun. But it’s always hard when I have to turn them away.”

From downstairs, someone called out, “Hiraku?” 

“Oh, Fumi’s home!”

Hiraku hurried out of the room, pausing in the doorway to beckon at Issei and Takahiro, both of whom followed him. 

When they reached the top of the stairs, Hiraku dashed ahead of them, making it to the bottom first. The floor below the stairs was hardwood, and because he was wearing socks rather than slippers, he lost his balance and nearly fell on his butt again.

But unlike last time, Kishi was there, and he dropped his grocery bags without hesitation in order to save Hiraku from falling. He caught him easily. 

Despite the fact that they were approximately the same height, they had vastly different frames and body language. Hiraku was thin, fidgety, and uncoordinated, whereas Kishi was thick, steady, and agile. Their clothes were also quite different at the moment, with Kishi in a black suit and Hiraku in loose loungewear. 

Takahiro was only just now getting to see the two of them interact, and the sight of Kishi coming to Hiraku’s rescue seemed to amuse him. He was grinning slightly as he made his way down the stairs, though he was behind Issei, who didn’t notice his reaction. 

“Are you alright?” Kishi asked as he helped Hiraku get steady.

At their feet were several grocery bags, from which a few cans had rolled out.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Hiraku replied, keeping a hand on Kishi’s shoulder. “That would’ve been the second time I fell on my ass today.”

“Maybe we should put hot glue on the bottom of your socks,” Kishi suggested in a serious voice, though it was fairly obvious that he was joking. “Then you wouldn’t have to worry about slipping anymore.” 

“Oh, no, please don’t do that,” Hiraku said as he leaned down to gather the spilled groceries. “It would feel weird to walk around with chunks of glue under my feet.”

“You know, your slippers have little traction strips on the bottom,” Kishi remarked, picking up the grocery bags once Hiraku was done putting everything back in them.

“I hate those, they make my feet sweaty,” Hiraku complained as he leaned closer to Kishi, almost like he was going to hug him.

But then he suddenly spun around, facing Takahiro and Issei, who were lingering at the bottom of the stairs.

“Oh, silly me!” he exclaimed. “The boys are here and we need to make lunch!”

Kishi looked at his guests, nodding at them politely. “It’s good to see you again, Matsukawa-kun. And this must be Hanamaki-kun.”

“Ah, so you’ve heard of me,” Takahiro noted as he studied the two men standing in front of him. 

“This is Hanamaki Takahiro,” said Issei, giving a proper introduction. “And this is Kishi Fumihito, my uncle’s roommate.”

“Roommate, huh?” Takahiro seemed like he was trying very hard not to smile. 

All of a sudden, Hiraku bent forward, gathering his long black hair and tying it up at the top of his head, though it wasn’t anywhere as neat as Kishi’s platinum bun.

Then he rolled up his sleeves and took a few of the grocery bags from Kishi, heading towards the kitchen. There was a cheerful spring in his step. Unlike how he had been acting at Grandmother’s funeral, he seemed fully at ease when he was in his own home, with hardly any traces of anxiety.

“Want some help?” Issei offered, following his uncle to the kitchen.

Takahiro and Kishi were right behind them. 

“No, it’s okay,” Hiraku replied, setting the grocery bags on the long kitchen counter. He started digging through them, getting things out and putting some of them away. 

Meanwhile, Kishi left the rest of the bags on the counter, and then he looked at Issei and Takahiro, giving a slight grin. “If you’re willing, I could use some help.”

“With what?” Takahiro asked, his eyes narrowing suspiciously.

He had never been one to willingly volunteer for something without first understanding exactly how much effort was required. 

“Watering my plants,” Kishi replied, grabbing a watering can from beside the kitchen sink. “It’s just the downstairs ones that need a drink.”

“Do you have more of those?” Issei asked, gesturing at the watering can. 

“I don’t, but we can make do.”

Kishi went and pulled two glass jars out of a cupboard, filling them both with water before handing them to Issei and Takahiro, who still seemed a bit reluctant about helping.

“Hanamaki-kun can focus on the ones in here, and Matsukawa-kun can water the ones on the stairs and in the hallway. Just pour in enough to soak the top layer of soil.”

Once those instructions had been given, the three of them split up. Takahiro worked on watering the many plants in the dining room and kitchen, Kishi disappeared into the room with all the couches, and Issei watered the plants in the downstairs hallway. There were many kinds, some tall and thin, others short and wide, and a few that were thorny or bushy. Their leaves were all different shapes and sizes.

The ones on the stairs were mostly in small pots that were on either side of each step, and the ones closest to the banister all had vines, which were draping down through the spaces between the uprights. The various shades of green flowing over the dark wood created a serenely appealing visual.

Each time Issei needed more water, he went to fill his jar in the kitchen, where Hiraku was frequently pausing to reference his cookbook in between preparing each ingredient. And he was setting them aside as soon as they were washed or chopped. At the moment, he was working on measuring spices, putting them into a little bowl once he had the right amount.

It seemed as though he liked to prepare everything as much as possible before he actually began cooking. 

Issei tended to be the same way, unlike Takahiro, who generally measured ingredients as he went and only got things out once they were needed. 

A short while later, when both Kishi and Issei were in the kitchen, Hiraku let out a pained gasp.

Within seconds, Kishi set his watering can down in the sink and turned around, going to Hiraku’s side. And as he often seemed to do, he put a hand on Hiraku’s lower back.

“What’s wrong?”

“I cut myself,” Hiraku replied, squeezing his finger inside of his fist. “It stings, but I don’t think it’s deep.”

“Let me see,” Kishi said as he reached for Hiraku’s hand, holding it gently and examining the small cut, which was bleeding now that there was no more pressure on it.

Then he went to one of the cupboards, pulling out a bandage and some ointment. 

Meanwhile, Hiraku washed his hands off in the sink, and then Kishi carefully bandaged his finger.

From across the room, Takahiro had just finished watering the last of the plants he was in charge of, and now he was staring at the two men with a knowing smile. 

“Want me to finish cutting stuff up for you?” Issei asked, watching Hiraku dig around in a nearby cupboard. 

“No, that’s okay. There’s only one thing left to cut up,” Hiraku replied as he pulled some clear gloves out, putting them on. Then he playfully wiggled his fingers. “I’ll just wear these so I don’t get my band-aid wet.”

After nodding in acknowledgment, Issei went to water the plants that were on the stairs, and Takahiro came with him. 

Kishi also tagged along, but then he went past them, heading to one of the rooms on the second level of the house.

When he reappeared at the top of the stairway a few minutes later, he was no longer dressed in the suit he wore for work. Instead he was wearing casual pants with a tight black t-shirt, showing off his muscular arms and thick waist. And his platinum hair wasn’t in a bun anymore. It was down now, framing his face and flowing just past his shoulders. 

“Dude, he’s built like a tank,” Takahiro whispered as he and Issei followed Kishi back to the dining room. “He could totally pass as a yakuza—he’d be the one the boss sends out to smash the competition. Think he’s got any tattoos?”

Issei elbowed Takahiro’s ribs, shushing him and hoping Kishi hadn’t heard him, though he also thought Kishi had a strikingly rugged, dangerous appearance when he wasn’t wearing a suit.

It was amazing how a simple change of clothes and a more relaxed hairstyle could result in such a difference. 

But the one thing that remained consistent was Kishi’s demeanor. His posture was nearly perfect, he walked with confidence, his expression was neutral, and he didn’t seem any less polite. There was even a subtle sort of gentleness in his movements. 

When he made it to the low table in the dining room, he pulled a box out from under it and sat on a floor cushion, glancing at the two boys before setting up a game of shogi.

“Do either of you know how to play?” 

“Of course,” Takahiro said as he sat down across from Kishi, with Issei taking the spot beside him. “I play against my dad all the time.”

“Are you any good?” Kishi asked, shooting Takahiro a playful glance that was obviously meant to be a challenge. 

Takahiro grinned. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

And so, Issei spent the next hour watching Takahiro and Kishi play a game of shogi. They were both cautious and thoughtful about each move, though towards the end, Takahiro’s impatience got the best of him and led to his downfall. 

“I want a rematch,” Takahiro said as he began to set the pieces up again. 

Kishi smiled and got to his feet, turning towards the kitchen. “That’ll have to wait until after lunch.”

Hiraku had just finished cooking, and with Kishi’s help, he brought everything to the table.

Then they all enjoyed the meal. There wasn’t much conversation while they ate, mostly because it was so good that no one wanted to stop eating in order to talk. 

But after they were done, Kishi made a big pot of tea, and they drank it on the engawa that wrapped around the perimeter of the house. Kishi had moved some plants out of the way so there was room for all of them to sit down on the ledge. From there, they had a nice view of the pond and all the greenery that was in the backyard. 

“So, Kishi-san, you must really like nature,” Takahiro said, glancing at Kishi, who was sitting the farthest away from him.

Hiraku and Issei were between them.  

“I do,” Kishi confirmed as he ran his fingers through his hair, pushing it away from his forehead.

The breeze kept blowing it back in front of his face, so he set his tea cup down and grabbed one of the hair ties that were on Hiraku’s wrist, using it to pull his hair into a low ponytail.

Takahiro was dangling his feet over the edge of the walkway, kicking them every now and then. “And you own a funeral home?” 

“That’s correct,” Kishi replied, grabbing the teapot from behind them and helping himself to more tea. He also refilled everyone else’s cup. “My father passed it down to me a couple years ago, his father passed it down to him before that, and so on. It’s been in our family for several generations.”

“Ah, so it’s a family business,” Takahiro remarked as he added some sugar to his tea. There was a little bowl of it next to the teapot. “You know, you’re an interesting guy. I mean, you’re around dead people all day, but then you come home and take care of a bunch of plants.”

“Working around death makes you appreciate life like nothing else will,” Kishi said, looking over all the trees and bushes and flowers in the backyard, many of which he had planted nearly a decade earlier.

“Do you like working at the funeral home, Kishi-san?” Issei asked, partly just to make polite conversation, though he was also genuinely curious about what that must be like. 

“It’s not easy, but it’s rewarding.” Kishi took a sip of tea before going on. “My father taught me that there’s no job more important than honoring the dead. In our line of work, we get to show the deceased one final act of kindness by caring for their body, and we try to make things easier for the bereaved by guiding them through the process with compassion and respect. I’m proud to do my part in that.”

“It does take a lot out of him though,” Hiraku interjected. He had let his hair down when he was done cooking, and at the moment, he was braiding a few strands of it, as if he needed to keep his hands busy. His tea cup was tucked between his knees. “And he might seem friendly, but he actually likes plants way more than he likes people.”

“More than the public, certainly, but not more than all people,” Kishi said, looking at Hiraku with a tender expression. 

Takahiro observed that interaction with a knowing grin. Then his gaze shifted to Issei, who was busy watching a duck that had just landed on the surface of the pond.  

But after a few seconds, Issei sensed Takahiro’s gaze, so he looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing,” Takahiro said, casually directing his attention towards Kishi so that he could address him. “Hey, is that your natural hair color?”

Kishi’s sounded serious, though there was subtle amusement twinkling in his dark brown eyes. “Does it not look like my natural hair color?”

“Not really,” Takahiro replied. “But then again, you seem kinda old to be bleaching your hair.”

“Is that so?” Even though he was still coming across as serious, Kishi’s mouth twitched, like he was trying not to smile. “How old do you think I am?”

“Hmmm.” Takahiro rubbed his chin as he stared hard at Kishi’s face. “You’re probably a few years younger than my dad . . . so if I had to guess, I’d say you’re about forty.”

“Good guess,” Kishi said, finally cracking a grin.

“I’m the one who’s forty,” Hiraku added, running his fingers over the little braid he had just finished putting in his hair. “He’s forty-two. Oh, and that really is his natural hair color. He got it from his mom. She was this tall, blonde, beautiful foreigner. Whenever his dad talks about her, he gets this look on his face like he’s talking about an angel. It’s cute—sad, but cute. You’ll never guess how they met . . .”

He paused briefly, like he actually wanted them to guess, though he didn’t give anyone else enough time to speak.

“It was at the Olympics way back in the sixties,” he revealed. “She was here to watch her brother compete, and Fumi’s dad managed to sweep her off her feet even though they couldn’t understand each other that well. Somehow, he convinced her to stay here with him, and they made their relationship work for a few years. They had Fumi during that time.”

“It didn’t end well?” Takahiro predicted, taking a sip of his tea. 

“Her family talked her into going home,” Kishi said, not seeming to find the topic difficult or upsetting. “We never heard from her again.” 

“How old were you when that happened?” Issei asked. 

“I was just a baby,” Kishi replied calmly. He left it unspoken, but it was clear that he didn’t feel any sense of attachment or loss.  

Takahiro set his tea cup down behind himself. “So basically, you grew up without a mom?” 

“You could say that. But I spent a lot of time at my neighbors house,” Kishi replied, finally getting a sad look in his eyes as he glanced at Issei. “You mentioned before that Hanamaki-kun’s mother cared for you when you were young—it was the same for me and my best friend.”

At that point, Hiraku turned towards Kishi like he was about to say something, but he accidentally let his tea cup slip out from between his knees. It shattered on the ground below his feet. 

Without saying anything, Kishi casually hopped down from the ledge, stooping over to pick up the pieces.

“Darn, I really liked that cup,” Hiraku muttered, as if he was frustrated with himself. 

Once the pieces were all cleaned up, Kishi went to throw the broken cup away while everyone else gathered in the dining room again. 

The dishes from lunch were still on the table, so Hiraku stacked them and took most of them to the kitchen. And then Kishi came up behind him with the rest of them, leaving them beside the sink, where Hiraku was about to start rinsing things off. 

“I’ll take care of these,” Kishi said, putting his hands on Hiraku’s hips and gently moving him aside.

“Thanks,” Hiraku replied, turning to meet Kishi’s gaze for a moment. Then his eyes widened and excitement lit up his features. “Oh, I forgot about the gift!”

With that, Hiraku hurried out of the kitchen, disappearing from sight. Based on where his footsteps were coming from, he had gone upstairs.

Kishi chuckled softly as he moved dishes around in the sink, glancing at Issei over his shoulder. “He wanted to give you something for all your birthdays up until now.”

During their text conversation the previous night, Hiraku had asked Issei about his birthday, but he hadn’t expected to get a gift from him. So he didn’t know what to say.

“Aw, that’s nice of him,” Takahiro said, linking arms with Issei and leading him over into the kitchen, where they both leaned against the counter that was across from the sink. “I can’t believe we assumed he was some violent mob boss.”

Kishi looked back at them as he rinsed the dishes, and it wasn’t clear whether he was entertained or offended by what he had just heard. 

“Don’t mind him,” Issei said, roughly messing with Takahiro’s hair to silence him. “He likes to joke around.” 

“It’s just that we can’t imagine what got him shunned by his own family,” Takahiro added as he pushed Issei’s hand away.

He was on a mission to fish for information, and he wasn’t going to let Issei stop him.

Kishi suddenly shut the sink off and turned around to face them. His eyes were so dark that it sent shivers down their spines, and his voice almost sounded sharp, though stern was a more accurate description.

“Don’t ever ask him about that.”

Takahiro’s lighthearted playfulness was replaced with a solemn look, and Issei felt the air in the room grow heavy, as if weighed down by the shift in everyone’s mood. 

“He didn’t do anything wrong,” Kishi explained, his expression softening, as if he knew how intensely he had been coming across and didn’t want to give the wrong impression. “He just doesn’t like to talk about what happened back then. So please, could you not mention it again?”

Issei and Takahiro both nodded. 

“Thank you,” Kishi said, his demeanor once again becoming polite and pleasantly neutral. He went back to washing the dishes. 

A few seconds later, they could hear the thumps of Hiraku hurrying back down the stairs, followed by a thud, as if he had either fallen down or run into the wall.

Then he burst into the kitchen with a pile of envelopes in his hands. It was the type that usually contained money. He held them towards Issei with a shy smile, not looking right at him.

“Happy birthday . . . late birthday . . . for all the birthdays I’ve missed.”

Issei stared at the envelopes without taking them. There seemed to be more than a dozen of them, and he was wondering if he should decline a few times before accepting them. He had been taught to do that whenever he received money from relatives around the holidays. 

“There’s sixteen of them . . . one for each year. And each one has 16,000 yen. The theme is sixteen, you see. I was thinking it could be kind of like, uh, gift money, like on New Year’s,” Hiraku said, still not looking right at Issei as he continued to hold the envelopes out. “Sorry if cash seems a bit impersonal. I just didn’t know what kinds of things you like, so, uh, I went with this.”

“This is really—”

Issei almost said too much.

In general, he knew it would’ve been more polite to refuse them at least once. But his uncle seemed rather anxious about how it would be received, so he decided to graciously accept it, forgoing the usual social customs he would have otherwise followed. 

“It’s really thoughtful,” he said, finally taking the envelopes with both hands. “Thank you, Uncle Hiraku.”

“You’re welcome,” Hiraku sighed, smiling like he was relieved. “Use it for whatever you want.”

“Dude.” Takahiro started nudging Issei with his elbow over and over again. “Let’s go on an adventure.”

“What kind of adventure?” Issei asked, glancing at Takahiro with a flat expression. “An expensive one?”

“Nothing too expensive,” Takahiro said. “But we’ve gotta do something fun once spring break starts, right?”

“When we go visit my family in Tokyo, we’ll find something fun to do,” Issei decided. “Maybe we can take the twins somewhere.”

“Sweet,” Takahiro said, leaning his arm on Issei’s shoulder. “Should we go to Disneyland?”

Issei snorted. “You know that’s expensive, right?”

“I’ll pay for half of it,” Takahiro promised. “I’ve got some money saved up.”

“We’ll see,” Issei said. “But you know, I don’t think Kazu would like Disneyland that much. There’s a lot of crowds and stuff.”

“Ah, good point.” Takahiro clicked his tongue. “Well, I guess we can find something else to do.”

That whole time, Hiraku was watching Takahiro and Issei, looking curious and thoughtful. Then the sound of ringing made him jump slightly. 

It was Takahiro’s phone, and he dug it out of his pocket, holding it to his ear.

“Hello? . . . Mhm . . . Yeah, I think so . . .  Okay . . . Yeah, hang on,” he said, pressing his phone against his chest. “My dad wants to know when we’ll be back.”

“What time is it now?” Issei asked, looking around for a clock. 

“It’s almost half past two,” Kishi replied from where he was still washing the dishes. 

“Really?” Issei pulled his phone out, confirming that significantly more time had passed than he thought. “I told my dad I’d be home by three.”

Takahiro hummed and put his phone to his ear again. “We’ll be back in less than an hour . . . Okay . . . Yep . . . Love you too, bye.”

“Guess we better get going,” Issei said, though he wasn’t ready to leave yet.

There was a lot more he wanted to learn about his uncle. 

“I’ll walk you out,” Hiraku said as he started to leave the kitchen, slouching like always and wringing his hands together. “It was fun having a meal together. And, uh . . . whenever you feel like it, you could come over again . . . if you want.”

“Sure, that would be great,” Issei said, holding his phone and the envelopes in one hand. He was following his uncle, with Takahiro at his side. 

Kishi walked along behind them, leaving the rest of the dishes to be done later. 

Once they made it to the genkan, Issei saw his sports bag, which reminded him of the pictures and journal.

So he pulled them out and offered them to his uncle. “Here, you might want these.”

After briefly examining the outside of the journal and tucking it under one arm, Hiraku hesitantly took the envelope and opened it. His eyes grew wide when he saw what was inside.

“I can’t believe it . . .” he said, staring at the pictures as he flipped through them. “How did you get these?”

Kishi had been peeking over Hiraku’s shoulder, but then he looked up at Issei, waiting for his answer. 

“I found them when I was helping my dad go through my grandma’s stuff,” Issei replied, feeling a fresh pang of guilt over taking someone else’s belongings without permission. “Everything was gonna get donated anyway, so I grabbed a few things for safekeeping.”

“Might wanna have some tissues handy when you read the journal,” Takahiro advised. “We skimmed through it last night and some of it’s kinda sad.”

Hiraku wordlessly turned away, still staring at the pictures as he walked towards the room with all the couches. He seemed to be lost in his own world.

Meanwhile, Kishi remained where he was, though he watched Hiraku go.

Then he turned his attention back to his guests. “Thank you for giving those to him.” 

“Yeah, no problem,” Issei said as he got his shoes on and picked up his sports bag. 

Takahiro was doing the same. “Thanks for having us over, the food was great.”

“It was our pleasure,” Kishi said, watching the two boys step outside. “Get home safely.”

They waved at Kishi, and after he waved back, he slid the double doors closed.

When they made it to the end of the stone pathway, they walked through the tall wooden gate and headed for the train station. That would get them home thirty minutes faster than if they went by foot. 

“So . . .” Takahiro said, grinning as they made their way down the sidewalk. “Your uncle and his ‘roommate’ are pretty cool, aren’t they? His ‘roommate’ sure is a nice guy. You don’t find nice ‘roommates’ like that every day, so if you ask me, your uncle is lucky to have a ‘roommate’ he can rely on.”

“Why are you saying ‘roommate’ like that?” Issei asked, tilting his head. 

“Because they’re not roommates. They’re gay. For each other,” Takahiro said, as if he had been holding that in for a long time. “In other words, they’re a couple.”

“What makes you think that?” Issei asked.

To him, Hiraku and Kishi were close, but they didn’t strike him as gay. They just seemed like really good friends.

“What makes you not think that?” Takahiro scoffed in disbelief. “I mean, sure, they might have called themselves roommates when they first met you. But my aunt introduces her girlfriend as her roommate whenever they meet new people—especially if those people seem homophobic.” He glanced at Issei suspiciously. “You didn’t say something homophobic when you met them, did you?”

“Of course not,” Issei insisted. “Besides, can’t two adults live together without being gay?”

“Sure, two adults can live together without being gay,” Takahiro said. “But not those two adults. Trust me on this, dude. My gaydar is never wrong.”

“Again with the gaydar?” Issei sighed and shook his head. “You know, there’s no such thing as gaydar. You can’t just assume things about people based on . . . some vibe you think you got, or whatever.”

“That’s exactly what we’ve been doing with Iwaizumi this past year,” Takahiro pointed out. “And you didn’t doubt me when I told you about how Oikawa’s only been dating all those girls to repress his gayness.”

“Yeah, but that’s different,” Issei said, suddenly feeling defensive, though he didn’t know why. “It’s obvious that Iwaizumi likes Oikawa—we’re not just pulling it out of thin air. And it’s obvious that Oikawa doesn’t actually like any of the girls he’s been dating.”

“It’s just as obvious that your uncle likes his boyfriend,” Takahiro countered. “You just can’t see it. And honestly, I don’t blame you. You’ve got no sense for that kind of thing. Like, zero. You’re totally clueless. That’s why you’ve gotta trust me and take my word for it.”

“When it comes to this, we’re gonna have to agree to disagree,” Issei said as he adjusted the strap of his sports bag, focusing his gaze on where he was going.

He hadn’t seen Kishi and Hiraku do anything that he and Takahiro wouldn’t have done. In his mind, that was solid proof that they were just friends.  

“Kinda homophobic of you to disagree with me, but fine,” Takahiro muttered, crossing his arms and getting a stubborn look on his face. He took a bit too much pride in how much influence he usually had over Issei’s outlook on the world. “You know what? Let’s just wait and see. If it turns out that I’m right, you owe me a back massage.”

“In addition to the ones I already give you?” Issei asked in a dry voice. 

“Yep,” Takahiro replied curtly, giving Issei a sour sideways glance. “It’s gotta be way longer than usual. Like, two whole hours. And you’ve gotta use lotion.”

“Alright, but you’re not allowed to ask them about it,” Issei said, not wanting him to say or do anything that might upset his uncle.

The yakuza remarks had already been insulting enough. 

“I won’t even hint at it,” Takahiro promised, still looking stubborn. “I’m sure they’ll come out to us when they’re ready, as long as someone doesn’t act like a homophobe.”

“If you’re wrong,” Issei said, “I’m the one who gets the massage.”

“Deal.” 

They shook on it, then Takahiro gave the smuggest, cockiest, most petty grin Issei had ever seen. He seemed to fully believe that he would be getting the better end of their bargain.

Chapter Text

On the first morning of spring break, Issei slept in until nearly eleven o’clock, despite having set an alarm for seven. And even with the extra sleep, he was still exhausted.

He glanced at the little space heater in the corner of his room, confirming that he had left it on all night. It didn’t always work well, and apparently, this was one of those times. He was shivering from head to toe. 

Getting out of bed was the last thing he wanted to do.

But he had a long list of chores waiting for him, and they needed to be finished before he could accompany the Hanamaki family to Tokyo the following day, which meant he couldn’t waste any more time. 

He willed himself to move, slowly sitting up and then immediately hunching forward, resting his face on his hands. He sat there for a while, fighting the urge to lie back down. 

When he finally swung his legs over the edge of the bed and got to his feet, the room almost seemed to spin. So he sat back down, rubbing his eyes with a groan. His body felt sluggish and heavy. Nothing sounded better than going back to sleep, and he desperately wanted to give in.

But instead of embracing the warmth of his bed, he stood up again, slower this time. And that took every drop of his willpower to accomplish. 

Then he shuffled to the bathroom to wash his face, hoping that would get rid of the sleepiness that was clinging to him so stubbornly. 

It didn’t help at all.

He could hardly keep his eyes open, and his legs were aching. So were his arms and shoulders. His entire body was sore, as if he had done strenuous exercise the previous day. This was unexpected. He hadn’t played volleyball in almost a week, nor had he run, or lifted weights, or anything of the sort. He had been letting himself enjoy a proper break, just like Coach Irihata suggested on the last official day of practice. 

Nothing he had done would warrant how miserable he was feeling now.

After brushing his teeth, he filled the glass he always kept by the sink, drinking some water to get rid of the dry ache in his throat, which he often experienced whenever he ran the space heater all night. 

But instead of making it better, drinking water made it worse. It was as if he had just swallowed a handful of gravel.  

And then a realization dawned on him. He pulled the first-aid kit out of the medicine cabinet and dug the thermometer out, putting it under his tongue. When it beeped, he held it up to look at the reading, and then he frowned. 

He had a fever—a high one. 

Just like that, his plan for the day crumbled. He knew he wasn’t going to be able to get through all the cleaning that needed to be done. In fact, he probably wouldn’t get through a single thing on his list. He barely even managed to get the thermometer sanitized and put away without collapsing. 

To make things worse, the headache that hadn’t been noticeable so far suddenly made itself known, though it wasn’t as painful as the aches across his body.

He couldn’t remember the last time he was this sick.

As he made his way back to his room, he kept one hand on the wall at all times, using it for support as the world around him seemed to wobble. Then he crawled back into bed, pulling the covers over himself and closing his eyes tight. He hoped a few more hours of sleep would be enough to alleviate the worst of his symptoms. 

Unfortunately, falling asleep wasn’t easy with a throbbing headache, especially when he couldn’t stop shivering. 

He felt an overwhelming sense of isolation and anxiety settle into the pit of his stomach. His mother had always been there for him when he was sick like this—and now she wasn’t. He wanted to call her just so he could hear her voice, and more than that, he wanted her to come home. 

But he knew she couldn’t drop everything and hop on a train just because he was sick.

His father was already at work, his mother was too far away to do anything for him, and he couldn’t quite justify texting Misumi for help. He knew she would be busy preparing for the Tokyo trip.  

In light of that, he decided he would simply nurse himself back to health, and the first step in doing that was to sleep more. So he adjusted his pillow and folded his hands over his stomach. Then he took a deep breath, trying to let himself sink into unconsciousness. 

However, he had a persistent feeling that he should tell someone about his current condition, and the more he tried to ignore it, the more anxious he became. 

Finally, he gave in and grabbed his phone off the nightstand. Then he sent Takahiro a message to let him know he was sick. It was incredibly incoherent, but it got the point across.

Doing that relieved his anxiety so much that he fell asleep right afterwards, with his phone still in his hand. And he didn’t stir at all when a reply came through.

A few hours later, there was a soft knock on Issei’s bedroom window. It wasn’t enough to wake him from his feverish slumber. Neither was the sound of Takahiro popping the screen out and sliding the window open, which was done with great care, so as not to be noisy. 

With a white surgical mask on his face and a backpack slung over one shoulder, Takahiro climbed onto the windowsill and balanced himself there, taking his shoes off one at a time and gently setting them aside. Then he hopped down onto Issei’s desk. The mismatched socks he was wearing almost caused him to slip and tumble forward, but he caught himself just in time, avoiding what would have otherwise been a rather loud and painful disturbance. 

Once he was safely standing on the hardwood floor, he stared at Issei for several seconds, his eyes soft and his brow furrowed with concern. Then he turned around to close the window, doing so without making a sound. He was obviously trying to be considerate. 

But when he was setting his backpack down on the desk, the metal reach-extending grabber that was sticking out the top of it came loose and fell, banging against the chair before hitting the floor. 

He glared at it like he blamed it for what happened, and then he looked at Issei, whose eyes were now open. 

“What are you doing?” Issei asked hoarsely, sitting up on one elbow, though it wasn’t easy for him. His head throbbed whenever he lifted it. And thanks to his fever, he was drenched in sweat.

“Don’t exert yourself,” Takahiro said, bending down to get the reach-extending grabber and using it to poke Issei’s chest. His voice was slightly muffled by his surgical mask. “Just relax, like a good patient.”

Issei rested his head on the pillow again, staring at Takahiro with a weak smile. “Aren’t we a little old to be playing doctor?”

“I’m not a doctor, I’m a nurse.” Takahiro used the grabber to pull the covers up to Issei’s chin. “And for your information, this isn’t a game. You’re actually sick. Super sick, judging by how awful you look right now. That’s why I’m here to take care of you . . . from a safe distance.”

With that, Takahiro set the grabber down and started unloading his backpack, pulling out tissue packages, hand sanitizer, water bottles, juice boxes, pain killers, and his laptop, which he had received for his sixteenth birthday a few months earlier. 

Issei was envious of the laptop. He would have liked one of his own, but his father didn’t think it was necessary. 

It had occurred to him that he could buy a laptop with the money his uncle gave him. However, doing that would mean explaining to his father how he managed to afford it, and he didn’t want to open that can of worms. 

“I downloaded a bunch of shows and movies last night. Most of ‘em are in English, and there’s no subtitles, but whatever. We’ll just guess what they’re saying.” Takahiro opened his laptop, setting it on Issei’s desk and leaning over the chair, which was still tucked into its proper place. Then he listed off nearly a dozen titles and looked at Issei expectantly. “So, what’ll it be, sickie? Patients’ choice.”

“I dunno, whatever you want,” Issei replied with a sniffle. His nose was running now, much to his annoyance. So he sat up and reached for the tissue box on his nightstand. 

“Ah-ah-ah.” Takahiro quickly snatched the grabber and used it to push Issei back down. Then he used it to pick up the tissue box, offering one to Issei with a stern look. “If it’s something I can do for you, just ask, and if it’s not, it’ll have to wait. I don’t want you doing anything for yourself today.”

Issei took a tissue from the box and wiped his nose. “Okay, but what if I need to pee?”

“Well, I’d pee for you if I could, but science hasn’t figured that out yet.” Takahiro used the grabber to pick up the trash can, holding it towards Issei so he could throw the used tissue away without moving. “So I guess you’ll have to pee in a bottle.”

“Ha-ha, very funny,” Issei said, getting settled under the covers again. 

“Hey, you and I both know that wasn’t a joke.” Takahiro playfully poked Issei’s chest with the grabber. Then he set it down on the desk and sighed, putting a hand on his hip. “But seriously, Issei, this isn’t a game to me. I mean, you’re prone to pneumonia. Got those weak-ass lungs.”

“Uh, my lungs are fine,” Issei said, right before coughing into his elbow. “And I had pneumonia like, one time. When I was six.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve had it zero times, which means you’re more prone to it than I am.” Takahiro’s voice was calm, but even his surgical mask wasn’t enough to hide his concern, which was etched into the little lines between his eyebrows. “And you had to go to the hospital, remember?”

“That was only for a couple days,” Issei said as he pointed at the tissues, letting Takahiro use the grabber to bring them closer. “I just needed fluids.”

“Exactly. That’s why I’m here, to make sure you’re getting enough fluids,” Takahiro said, using the grabber to give Issei a water bottle. “Besides, your mom isn’t around to baby you, so that’s gonna be my job now.”

Even with how miserable Issei felt, he smiled after hearing that.  

It wasn’t often that Takahiro worried about anything in a way that was noticeable. Whenever he did, it was usually related to Issei’s health and safety, like when Issei broke his arm as a kid. Takahiro was more anxious that day than Issei had ever seen him. 

“First things first, here’s your distraction.” Takahiro set his laptop on Issei’s stomach after picking a movie for him to watch. “My mom whipped up some miso soup,” he added as he turned towards Issei’s desk. “There’s more of it at my place, so if we run out, I can go get more.” 

He reached into his backpack and pulled out a large container, putting it on the desk. Then he went to get another container out, but he made a face as soon as he had it in his hands, turning it over to examine it. There was a crack along the bottom, and by the looks of how empty it was, most of the soup had spilled into his backpack.

“Well, that’s just great,” he said, grumpily putting the broken container back. “It’s all soupy in there now.”

“The soup leaked?” Issei asked, hoping it wasn’t all over his desk. “Did it soak through?”

“Nah, it’s not soaking through. At least, not yet,” Takahiro replied, carefully lifting his backpack up and holding it away from himself. He grabbed the undamaged container with his other hand and headed towards the bedroom door. “I’m gonna go clean this up, then I’ll bring you a bowl of soup.”

“Alright, thanks,” Issei said, turning to cough into his elbow. He didn’t have much of an appetite, but he could never say no to Misumi’s soup.  

“I’ll be back in a bit,” Takahiro said as he left the room. 

After that, Issei could hear the distant sounds of Takahiro washing his backpack out in the kitchen sink, followed by the opening and closing of cabinets. 

While he waited for him to come back, he adjusted his pillow, giving himself a better view of the laptop. He didn’t know the name of the movie Takahiro had put on. It was in English, which he knew enough of to get the gist of what was being said, though it didn’t have the best sound quality. Still, it served its purpose as a distraction.  

A few minutes later, Takahiro returned with a tray that had two bowls of soup and two mugs of tea, setting it on Issei’s desk. He put one bowl and one mug on the nightstand, where Issei could easily reach them. 

Then he pulled the chair out from under the desk and sat down, adjusting his mask so that it was hanging off one of his ears. “Try not to cough until I put this back on.”

Issei snorted at that, which resulted in an unintentional coughing fit that he wasn’t quick enough to block all the way. 

“Dude,” Takahiro said, covering the lower half of his face with his arm. “I don’t wanna get sick.”

“No one’s forcing you to be here.” 

“Yeah, but I can’t just leave you to suffer alone, can I?” Takahiro turned his attention to the laptop and took a drink of his tea. “Now, be a good patient and eat your soup before it gets cold.”

“Whatever you say, nurse,” Issei murmured, balancing the bowl of soup on his chest. 

As expected, the soup was delicious. Between that, the tea, and his persistent fever, he was warm enough to be thoroughly drowsy. He almost fell asleep again. 

But then he started thinking about how much cleaning needed to be done. He was still hoping that against the odds, they could somehow still leave for Tokyo the next morning, and for that to happen, he needed to finish all his chores. That was laughable. He wasn’t even sure if he could get out of bed, let alone muster the energy to tackle his to-do list. 

Without meaning to, he let out a frustrated sigh as he rubbed the front of his neck, wishing his throat wasn’t so sore. 

“What’s up?” Takahiro asked, putting his mask back on and coming over to feel Issei’s forehead. “Need a cough drop?”

“No, I’m fine. I just hate being sick,” Issei replied, closing his eyes and appreciating the cool pressure of Takahiro’s hand. “There’s a bunch of stuff I planned on doing today.”

Once he had compared the temperature of Issei’s forehead to his own, Takahiro returned to the chair, scooting it closer to Issei’s bed so he could put his feet up. “Like what?”

“Chores, mostly,” Issei said, wondering if he could manage a few of them if he took enough medicine. “I’ve got a bunch of extra ones I’m supposed to do before the end of spring break.”

“Just do ‘em when we get back from Tokyo,” Takahiro suggested, resting his hands behind his head. 

“I’ve gotta get it all done before we leave,” Issei said. “Otherwise, my dad’s not gonna let me go.”

Takahiro hummed thoughtfully, and after a few seconds, he nodded with determination. “In that case, I’ll just do ‘em for you.”

“No, that’s okay,” Issei said, though he appreciated the offer. He knew how much Takahiro hated cleaning. “I’ll take care of it myself.”

“Like hell you will. Now, where’s the list? I know you’ve got one somewhere.” Takahiro stood up and looked around, soon finding a chore list on Issei’s desk. He put one foot up on the chair and rested an elbow on his knee as he read it. And behind his surgical mask, he was almost certainly grimacing. “Damn, dude . . . you were gonna do all this stuff today?”

“Yeah, that was the plan,” Issei replied as he closed the laptop and set it on his nightstand, next to where his empty bowl and mug were stacked up. His headache was bothering him, and he didn’t feel like watching a movie anymore. 

“This is like, a whole week’s worth of chores,” Takahiro grumbled, scowling at the list.

“Hardly,” Issei said, reaching for the list so he could remind himself of what needed to be done. “It won’t take me more than a day.”

“Is that so?” Takahiro held the list up out of Issei’s reach. “Well, if you can do it in a day, so can I.”

“Seriously, I’d rather do it myself,” Issei insisted, followed by a painful cough that he hid behind his elbow. “You’d just half-ass everything to get it done faster.” 

“Would not,” Takahiro said, folding up the list and putting it in his back pocket. “I’ll get it all done, and I’ll do it whole-assedly.”

Issei gave Takahiro a doubtful look. 

“Have a little faith,” Takahiro said, using the grabber to tuck Issei in under the blankets. “I promise I’ll do a good job.”

“Fine, go for it.” Issei was too tired to argue about it any longer. And as he tried to get comfortable, he coughed hard into his elbow again, which seemed to worsen his headache even more. “But don’t feel like you’ve gotta do all of it.”

“Shh, no more talking,” Takahiro said as he put the mugs and bowls back on the tray, taking it with him as he walked out of the room. “Just get some rest and leave everything to me.”

After that, Takahiro started working his way through the chore list, and Issei fell asleep to the sound of him scrubbing the shower in the bathroom across the hall. 

Every time Issei woke up to get a drink or use the toilet, Takahiro was cleaning a different part of the house. He kept at it for hours, only taking an occasional break to bring Issei a cup of tea, or adjust his pillows, or check his temperature. 

Just a few hours after the sun went down, Takahiro smugly strolled into Issei’s room with a tray in his hands. 

“All the chores are done, and now it’s time for dinner,” he announced, setting a fresh bowl of miso soup on Issei’s chest. He had made a sandwich for himself, and he dug into it as soon as he was seated on the desk chair.  

“Thanks,” Issei said, his voice hardly more than a whisper. He wasn’t feeling any better than he had that morning. If anything, he felt worse. But he tried to get some food down anyway. 

The two of them fell into a comfortable silence as they ate, and Issei took a moment to study Takahiro’s face. 

His eyes looked tired. Cleaning the house seemed to have taken a lot out of him, though he appeared to be relatively calm and cheerful, like he was proud of himself for getting so many chores done on Issei’s behalf. 

And his voice didn’t sound tired at all. 

“If you’re still hungry after this, I’ll make a sandwich for you. Or I could make some pancakes. My dad’s been helping me practice his secret recipe, and not to brag or anything, but I can make those pretty good now.”

“Aw, I’ll miss the burnt ones,” Issei teased, though it was hard to muster up the energy to be playful. His sore throat made it unpleasant to talk. 

“I’ll be sure to burn a few of ‘em just for you,” Takahiro said with a cheeky smile. Then he finished the last bite of his sandwich and put on another movie for them to watch.

Not long after the movie started, the clack, clack, clack of slippers in the hallway made both of them look towards the doorway, where Mr. Matsukawa suddenly appeared. He studied them for several seconds, seeming to piece things together. 

“Are you sick?” he asked, staring at Issei without coming any further into the room. 

“Yeah,” Issei said, barely speaking loud enough to be heard across the room. “I’m not feeling good.”

“He’s had a high fever all day,” Takahiro added solemnly. 

Mr. Matsukawa took one step back and crossed his arms, as if Issei’s bedroom would contaminate him if he got too close. And while he did look concerned, he also looked a bit lost. Caring for a sick child wasn’t in his realm of expertise. 

“I’m sorry to hear that, son. Can I do anything for you?”

“No, that’s okay,” Issei said, trying to sound more energetic. He knew his father had a big project going on at work, meaning it would be a terrible time for him to get sick. “Takahiro’s been keeping an eye on me.”

“He really shouldn’t be alone until his fever breaks,” Takahiro said, sitting up tall and speaking in his most polite tone. “If it’s alright with you, sir, I’d like to stay the night.”

Mr. Matsukawa nodded, crossing his arms a little tighter. His features were clouded with concern. “Yes, that would be fine.”

Seeing his father worry about him made Issei feel a strange sort of happiness. But when it came down to it, he was glad Takahiro was the one who would be taking care of him. 

“Well . . . I trust you boys won’t stay up too late,” Mr. Matsukawa said as he turned to leave, though he paused and gave Issei one more worried look. It seemed like he wanted to say something. 

But in the end, he just sighed and walked away.  

“You know, I’m kinda glad you’ve got that futon,” Takahiro said. “Sleeping right next to you when you’re all snotty and sneezy doesn’t exactly sound like a fun time.”

“Yeah, hopefully you don’t catch it.” Issei sniffled, and then he turned his head, coughing hard into his elbow. “Ugh, I feel like a pile of shit right now.”

“You’re the best-looking pile of shit I ever saw,” Takahiro joked, using the grabber to hold the box of tissues towards Issei, who took one gratefully. 

After blowing his nose, Issei settled into bed again and watched the movie, though he wasn’t able to follow the storyline. And he fell asleep before it was over. 

When that happened, Takahiro got the futon out and made himself comfortable, watching a show on his laptop until he was ready to call it a night.

Over the next few days, Takahiro hardly left Issei’s side. He was always there when Issei woke up, either watching something on his laptop, playing a game on his phone, or reading something from Issei’s small collection of manga. 

Having him there made it a lot easier for Issei to rest. That was always true, even when he wasn’t sick. There was just something really comforting about having his best friend around.

It took six days for Issei to fully recover from his illness, and thanks to a combination of luck and hygiene-related precautions, Takahiro didn’t catch it. So they were ready to leave town as soon as Issei felt up for the trip. 

By the time they were able to board a train for Tokyo, spring break was already halfway over. They left Miyagi on a Friday morning, and they would stay with Issei’s family until the following Friday evening. That way, they would still have a couple days to relax at home before the start of their second year of high school. 

Because of Mr. Hanamaki’s work schedule, he and the other members of his family—minus Takahiro—left for their trip to Tokyo on the second day of spring break, as originally planned. It was preferable for everyone that they stay throughout the entirety of spring break, but Mr. Hanamaki had patients to get back to, and Misumi had some prior commitments that needed her attention. So they would be leaving Tokyo with Rei at the end of the day, not long after Issei and Takahiro arrived.

The train ride from Miyagi to Tokyo took just over two hours. Issei fell asleep on the way, and Takahiro didn’t seem to mind that his shoulder was being used as a pillow. He just stared out the window with a faraway look in his eyes and a content smile on his face. And whenever Issei’s head nodded too far forward, he gently pushed it back onto his shoulder, eventually leaning his cheek against it to keep it in place. 

When they had nearly reached their stop, Takahiro woke Issei up. Then the two of them gathered their things and stepped out onto the crowded platform. The flow of the crowd carried them out of the station and onto the street outside, where it was just as crowded, if not more so. 

They were supposed to spend the afternoon with Etsu, who made it sound like a big deal that she was setting time aside for them, considering how busy she was these days. But they weren’t due to meet up with her until noon, and that meant they had a little over an hour to kill. 

“Let’s grab food somewhere before we go see my sister,” Takahiro suggested, moving the strap of his large duffle bag so that it was flat across his chest. 

“Sounds good,” Issei said as he moved his own duffle bag into a more comfortable position on his shoulder. He and Takahiro made their way down the street, going slow and looking around as they went. “I see a few different restaurants, and there’s a bakery right there. What’re you in the mood for?”

“Eh-chan told me about this really good food truck that’s near a park,” Takahiro said, holding his phone out to show Issei the text she had sent about that. “I think it’s just a few blocks from here.”

After reading the text, Issei used his map to find the park Etsu mentioned, and while he looked it over, his stomach growled. “Man, I’m starving.”

“Yeah, I bet you are,” Takahiro said, grabbing Issei’s elbow and leading him through the crowd of people that filled the sidewalk, without even bothering to look at the map. “You barely ate anything other than soup this week.”

Issei knew that Takahiro had an impeccable sense of direction when it came to finding food, so he folded up the map, shoving it in the pocket of his sweatpants as he was pulled down the sidewalk. “My appetite’s finally back.”

“That’s good to hear.” Takahiro linked his and Issei’s arms, walking along like he already knew where he was going, though he was only guessing based on Etsu’s vague directions. 

And sure enough, they were at the right park in just ten minutes. The food truck was near the entrance. There was a line, and they found themselves standing behind three boys who seemed like they were around their age. 

One had black hair that was particularly messy, adding to his already impressive height. Beside him was a boy who was more than a head shorter, with dark brown chin-length hair that hid the sides of his face, and he was focusing intensely on playing a handheld video game. His shoulder was being used as an armrest by the messy-haired boy.

The third boy had black hair with grayish-white streaks all throughout, and it was gelled into two peaks, making him look rather owlish. He was about as tall as the messy-haired boy. And he was bouncing on his heels, like he was either excited or impatient, or perhaps a mix of both. 

“Hey, Bokuto, would you mind paying for our food this time?” asked the messy-haired one, making a show of patting the pockets of his red sweatpants. Then he nodded at the short boy beside him. “I forgot my wallet, and Kenma probably doesn’t have any cash on him.”

“I’ve only got enough for a drink,” mumbled the short one, who was apparently named Kenma. 

“No worries, guys. I’ve got enough to spot ya,” said the one who had been called Bokuto, smacking the messy-haired one’s back with a loud chuckle. “You sure do forget your wallet a lot, don’t you, Kuroo?”

“It’s in my other pants,” replied Kuroo. 

“Are we going home after we eat?” Kenma asked, frowning as he shut off his game, as if he were frustrated with it. He begrudgingly tucked it into the front pocket of his hoodie. 

“I wanted to play volleyball for a while,” Kuroo said, taking a moment to stretch his arms over his head, bending his body one way and then the other. “Heard they set up a net near the basketball courts. Would be cool to check it out, y’know?”

“We don’t have a ball,” Kenma pointed out, almost sounding glad about that. Then he moved closer to Kuroo to avoid being run into by a passing group of rambunctious children, all of whom broke through the line right between him and Takahiro, who had been yanked out of the way by Issei in the nick of time.

“Maybe we can find a store that sells balls around here,” Bokuto said, watching the swarm of children pass with a smile. When they were gone, he pulled out his wallet and checked the contents. “I’ve totally got enough to buy one, and besides, you can never have too many balls.”

Kuroo snorted. “I think your mom would beg to differ.”

Bokuto tilted his head and knitted his brows together in confusion. “Uh, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“He’s making a dumb joke about how your mom isn’t into guys,” Kenma said flatly, shooting a brief glance at the people in line around them, which brought Takahiro and Issei into his line of sight. But he didn’t look at them, or anyone else, for very long. 

“Oh.” Bokuto frowned, and then he jumped at Kuroo, looping an arm around his neck. “Don’t make fun of my mom!” 

“I wasn’t making fun of her,” Kuroo said as he tried to free himself, though a crooked grin was plastered on his face. “If anything, I was making fun of your dad, ‘cause your mom didn’t want his balls around.”

Bokuto gasped, losing his grip on Kuroo’s neck. “So now you’re making fun of me for being a child of divorce?!”

“C’mon, bro, you know I was just kidding,” Kuroo said as he stood up straight and fixed his hair, not that it was any messier than before he had been roughed up. “And anyway, I’m a child of divorce too, which means I’m allowed to tease you about that.”

“Yeah, well, if that’s how it is . . .” Bokuto crossed his arms and got a concentrated look on his face. “Your dad’s balls . . . He’s . . . Your mom . . . Your mom hates balls, and your dad’s balls suck!”

“From what I’ve heard, my mom actually loves balls,” Kuroo said in a perfectly serious tone. “And my poor dad probably never gets his balls sucked anymore.”

Bokuto covered his ears. “Bro, I don’t wanna think about your dad’s balls getting sucked!”

“Then you shouldn’t have brought them up,” Kuroo said with a casual shrug. He seemed to be enjoying the way Bokuto was getting all riled up. 

“Does having a broken family lower your intelligence or something?” Kenma asked, his tone soft and sarcastic. 

“It does, actually. Me and this guy, we’re what they’d call disadvantaged youth, on account of all the emotional trauma and whatnot,” Kuroo said, resting an arm on Kenma’s shoulder again. “You’re a real saint for looking after us.”

“It’s not like I have a choice,” Kenma deadpanned. His hands were inside the pocket of his hoodie, and he was slouching, though he didn’t seem to mind that Kuroo was leaning on him. 

“Are we gonna go check out that new volleyball court after lunch, or what?” Bokuto asked, beginning to bounce on his heels again and swing his arms at his sides, as if the prospect of volleyball had suddenly returned to his mind and revived his excitement.

“You shouldn’t waste your money on a new ball,” Kenma said as he gave Kuroo a weary look. 

“He’s right,” Kuroo said, nodding sagely. “You’ve already got like, ten, maybe fifteen of them at home. No use buying another.”

“But I wanna play volleyball,” Bokuto complained, his shoulders slumping like the weight of the world had just dropped down on him. 

Meanwhile, Issei and Takahiro glanced at each other from where they were still standing in line behind the three boys, having listened to that whole conversation unfold. And they were thinking approximately the same thing. 

They happened to have brought a volleyball along with them. It was in Issei’s duffle bag, and while he wouldn’t usually invite himself into the conversation of people he didn’t know, he was itching to play after spending most of the past week in bed. So he raised an eyebrow at Takahiro, who shrugged. And that was more than enough encouragement. 

“Excuse me,” Issei said to the three boys in front of him. “Did you guys say there’s a volleyball court around here?”

Bokuto glanced over his shoulder like he was surprised that a stranger was addressing him, but once he saw who had spoken, he spun all the way around and flashed a big smile that lit up his face. “Yeah, that’s right! Do you play?”

“We both play,” Issei replied, finding Bokuto’s intense gaze a little unnerving. And beside him, Takahiro bristled ever so slightly, though he didn’t notice. “Would you mind telling us where that new court is?”

“Yeah, sure!” Bokuto was staring at Issei like he couldn’t look away. His eyes were almost as bright as his smile, and he stepped closer, as if drawn to him. “I’ll show you where it is!”

Kuroo glanced back and forth between Bokuto and Issei a few times, and then a sly grin pulled at one corner of his mouth. 

Takahiro was also watching them, and the longer he did, the more territorial he looked. But the change in his demeanor went unnoticed by Issei, who was distracted by being the target of Bokuto’s full attention.

“If we show you guys where the court is,” Kuroo said, his sly grin growing even bigger as he watched Issei politely endure Bokuto’s intense gaze, “will you play a game with us?” 

“Oh, heck yeah, that’s a great idea!” Bokuto’s whole body seemed to inflate. He stepped even closer to Issei and spoke in a booming voice, though neither of those things seemed intentional. “You’ll play with us, won’t you?! Please! It’ll be so fun, and, oh! I’ll even buy you lunch!”

Something about the way Bokuto expressed enthusiasm reminded Issei of his little sister, which made him smile, despite how overwhelming he found Bokuto’s presence to be. 

“We can buy our own food,” Takahiro said firmly, which was enough to make Issei glance at him in disbelief. It wasn’t like him to turn down a free meal. 

“I insist!” Bokuto pulled out his wallet, confidently stepping up to the food truck. His turn had finally arrived. “C’mon, guys, tell me what you want! It’s on me!”

After everyone else had ordered something, Takahiro gave in, reluctantly placing an order of his own. Then they all stood aside, waiting for their food to be done. It seemed like it was going to take a while.

Kuroo still had a certain slyness radiating from him, and whenever he looked at Bokuto or Issei, there was a mischievous gleam in his eye. “You’re in a generous mood today, aren’t you, bro?”

“An idiotic mood, more like,” Kenma muttered under his breath. 

Unlike anyone else in their little group, he had been studying Takahiro and Issei in a way that was subtle enough to go unnoticed, and he seemed to understand why Takahiro didn’t want Bokuto to pay for their lunch. But he kept his conclusions to himself. And while he didn’t seem to approve of Kuroo’s motivation for inviting them to play a game of volleyball, he didn’t intervene.

“Oh, right, we haven’t introduced ourselves!” Bokuto stood right in front of Issei and pointed to himself, speaking with a great deal of pride. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou, and I’m a wing spiker, and someday I’m gonna be the best ace in the whole country!”

“Yeah, well, I’m Hanamaki Takahiro, and when it comes to spiking, I’m already one of the best on my team,” Takahiro said, haughtily crossing his arms as he stepped closer to Issei’s side.

Even though Issei was unable to take his eyes off Bokuto’s animated features, he could tell that Takahiro was grumpy just by the tone of his voice, and he wasn’t sure why. But it didn’t feel urgent enough for him to puzzle out right away. 

“My name’s Matsukawa Issei,” he said. “I’m a middle blocker.”  

“A middle blocker, huh?” Kuroo’s eyes got dark and competitive, making him look like he was up to no good, though he was smiling genuinely just a moment later. “Same here! I’m Kuroo Tetsurou,” he said, patting the top of Kenma’s head as he spoke, “and this is Kozume Kenma—the smartest setter you’ll ever meet.”

Kenma glanced away and hunched his shoulders. 

“Do you guys know anyone else who’d be willing to join us for a game?” Issei asked, not wanting anyone to be left out. “Just so we have an even number of players.” 

“I could call one of my teammates!” Despite his initial cheerfulness, Bokuto seemed to deflate after a few seconds of consideration. “But I don’t think any of ‘em would wanna come all the way out here for me . . .”

“There’s no need to find another person,” Kenma mumbled, looking down at his feet. “I’m not playing.”

“Yeah, he’ll just do his own thing on the sidelines,” Kuroo said as he stared at Issei, like he was sizing him up. They were almost the same height, and as far as muscle went, they seemed to be evenly matched. “How long you been playing volleyball?”

“Four years,” Issei replied, glancing at Takahiro, who still seemed a bit grumpy. “Same for him.”

“Oh yeah? Well, I’ve been playing since I was a little kid,” Kuroo said in a triumphant voice, though he wasn’t exactly mean about it. “What grade are you guys in?”

“We’re second-years now.” Issei kept his expression neutral, though he couldn’t help noticing the way Bokuto was smiling at him, like he was hanging on his every word. He didn’t know what to make of it. “How about you guys?”

“Same for us, except him. He’s gonna be a first-year,” Kuroo said, looking at Kenma so softly that his affection was unmistakable. “We’ll both be going to Nekoma once school’s back in session.”

“I go to Fukurodani,” Bokuto chimed in, still smiling at Issei with an intensity that rivaled the sun. His amber eyes were practically shining, and he seemed to be drifting closer to Issei little by little, though Takahiro suddenly placed himself halfway between them to put a stop to that. “What school do you go to, Matsumara?”

“It’s actually Matsukawa,” Takahiro corrected, looking pleased that Bokuto had messed it up. 

“Oops, sorry,” Bokuto said, smacking himself on the forehead a few times. Then he gave Issei a determined stare. “Matsukawa, Matsukawa, Matsukawa. There, now I’ll remember!”

“He’ll probably get it wrong again,” Kuroo said, clapping Bokuto on the back in a patronizing manner. “But don’t let that fool ya. He’s a good guy, once you get past how obnoxious he can be.”

Bokuto gasped, as if he couldn’t believe his ears. Then he pouted and crossed his arms. “Dude, why would you even say that?”  

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. You’re a lot sometimes, but you’re one of the coolest people I know,” Kuroo replied. “So, what school do you guys go to, if I may ask?”

“We go to Aoba Johsai.” 

It was Takahiro who answered, and not in a way that was particularly friendly. His expression was getting more and more sour. But he wasn’t being openly hostile, and no one other than Issei seemed to notice that he was grouchy. That is, aside from Kenma, who was still studying him out of the corner of his eye.

“Aoba Johsai, huh?” Kuroo scratched his chin. “I’m not familiar with that school.”

“It’s not in Tokyo,” Issei clarified. “We’re from Miyagi.”

“You don’t live around here?” Bokuto’s voice and expression was suddenly filled with deep disappointment. “Man, that sucks.”

Kuroo wrapped an arm around Bokuto’s shoulders, giving him a comforting squeeze. “What brings you guys out this way?”

“We’re just here to visit family,” Issei said, wondering why Bokuto was upset all of a sudden.

“Does your whole family live here?” Bokuto asked, still looking rather disappointed, though that didn’t seem to dampen his desire for information. And he was still staring at Issei with as much intensity as before, even if it was a slightly gloomier version. “Do you come here a lot? How long will you be in town? What are you doing later?” 

“Jeez, dude, this isn’t an interrogation,” Kuroo said as he tousled Bokuto’s hair. “Don’t just say every single thought that comes into that bird brain of yours, you big doof.”

“You’re the doof!” Bokuto twisted out of Kuroo’s reach, quickly catching him in another headlock. “And you suck at blocking!”

“Now, now, don’t say things you don’t mean.” Kuroo was able to free himself much quicker this time. And then he dashed behind Bokuto, pinning his arms to his sides as he grabbed him, lifting him up so he couldn’t fight back. “You know I’ll retaliate, and you wouldn’t wanna cry in front of people you just met, would you?”

“Put me down!” Bokuto shouted, kicking his feet in the air as he tried to wiggle out of Kuroo’s grasp. 

“Not until you apologize,” Kuroo said, straining to keep Bokuto from getting away. 

“Never!” Bokuto started thrashing around and squirming like a toddler, until Kuroo finally dropped him. He barely managed to land on his feet. 

Meanwhile, Kenma awkwardly glanced at Issei and Takahiro, speaking in a quiet voice. “Don’t mind them, they’re just weird like that sometimes.”

“Weird and immature,” Takahiro said, as if he and Oikawa hadn’t done almost the exact same thing a few weeks earlier, stopping only when Iwaizumi smacked them into behaving. 

After righting himself and giving Kuroo a vengeful shove, Bokuto turned his attention back to Issei, seeming to have moved past his gloominess thanks to Kuroo’s distracting antics. “So, do you live by yourself in Miyagi, or does some of your family live there with you?”

“I live with my dad,” Issei replied, glancing over at the food truck. It seemed like their large order was almost ready. 

“Same here,” Kuroo said as he playfully punched Bokuto’s ribs. “I live with my dad and his parents.”

“I live with my older sisters and my moms, but sometimes I stay over at my dad’s place,” Bokuto said, trying to stomp on Kuroo’s foot, though he didn’t succeed. “Well, actually, one of my sisters is gonna move away soon.”

“As older sister’s tend to do,” Kuroo said, dodging when Bokuto tried to ball tap him. Then he went to stand behind Kenma for protection. 

Takahiro sighed. “Man, I wish my older sister would move away.” 

“She already did,” Issei said, grinning slightly.

“Yeah, but she didn’t go far enough.”

“Aw, you don’t mean that.” Issei nudged Takahiro’s arm. “Admit it, you miss having her around.”

Takahiro clicked his tongue. “Well, it does suck that I’ve gotta do her chores now—”

“I’m gonna be so sad when my sister moves out,” Bokuto interjected, speaking more to Issei than to anyone else. “She wants to travel for a bit before getting serious about college. My mom did the same thing, and so did my other mom, but she did it after college.”

“Do you . . . call both of them Mom?” Issei asked, hoping that wasn’t a rude question.

“Yeah,” Bokuto replied. “What else would I call them?”

“He’s wondering how they know who you’re talking to,” Takahiro said bluntly.

Bokuto thought about it for a few seconds while fiddling with his thumbs. For some reason, he seemed reluctant to answer. “Well, if it’s something either of them could help me with, then whoever answers first is who I was talking to.”

“Actually, he calls his step-mom Mom, and he calls his birth mom Mommy, but he doesn’t like to admit that,” Kuroo said. “People teased him about being a mama’s boy back in middle school.”

“You’re the one who started it!” Bokuto scowled at Kuroo, and then he looked at Issei, as if he felt the need to explain himself. “We met at training camp right after we started middle school, and when I was talking about my moms, he heard me say mommy for one of them. He gave me so much shit for that, and then my teammates caught on, and then it caught on at school. Everyone called me a mama’s boy until we graduated. It was so, so, so annoying and it’s all Kuroo’s fault!”

“Hey, don’t hold that against me.” Kuroo innocently pressed a hand to his chest. “I apologized like, fifty times already.”

Bokuto huffed and crossed his arms, pointing his nose in the air. “Apology still not accepted.”

Before anything else could be said, they were called up to get their order, and then they all went to sit on a picnic bench near the entrance of the park. It didn’t take long for them to scarf their food down. In the end, they were waiting on Kenma and Takahiro to finish. Kenma was the slowest eater among them, and Takahiro had ordered much more food than anyone else, so it was taking him a while to work his way through it. He didn’t even seem that hungry in the first place. 

“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” Bokuto asked, looking at Issei from across the cement picnic table they were sitting on. 

“I’ve got one of each,” Issei replied as he folded up his trash, putting it in his duffle bag. “They’re twins.”

Bokuto slapped his hands on the table. “Whoa, that’s so cool! Can they read each other’s minds?” 

“That’s not how twins work,” Takahiro said dryly. 

“But they do kinda have their own way of communicating,” Issei added, finally making the connection that Takahiro’s grouchiness was most noticeable when he interacted with Bokuto, which led him to believe that there was some sort of wing spiker rivalry going on between them. 

“What about you?” Bokuto was looking at Takahiro, though his gaze kept darting back over to Issei every few seconds. “Got any brothers or sisters?”

“I’ve got two sisters,” Takahiro replied, though he didn’t seem that interested in the conversation. “An older one and a younger one.”