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.