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At the end of Akaashi Keiji’s final year in junior high, he began to investigate each member of the men’s high school volleyball teams who had made it to nationals, in hopes of locating a senpai who would best suit him and his playing style for his first year of varsity volleyball.
Akaashi’s own volleyball season had ended in triumph, with his team winning the last major junior high tournament of the year; Kitagawa Daiichi had been knocked out early, having lost their key players, Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime the year before, and with Akaashi’s subdued confidence, his teammates and he rose to the occasion, making it all the way to the championship game. The battle had been hard fought, but by the end of the third set, the set that would determine the winner of the match, Akaashi’s team was behind by three points—their opponents only needed to score one more time to secure their win. The pressure was on, and the younger members of Akaashi’s team were starting to succumb to it.
In a shocking twist of events, the level-headed fourteen-year-old Keiji scrambled up three straight points using a dump, a staggered spike that only he was aware of, and an ace on the opposing team’s left hitter—when asked by his coach how he knew that player would miss the relatively-easy serve, Akaashi’s casual, simple response about the other team’s lack of receiving involvement sparked the confidence of his teammates.
“Because the player next to him is Yuu Nishinoya.”
With the game tied, Akaashi continued to serve, knowing that he would have to keep the ball out of the freakishly talented libero’s hands; it would be difficult for him to hurry back to the front line in this position, at such a crucial part of the game, so he focused all his energy on the next few actions. High school scouts had sent their people to watch this final tournament, and three different schools were now enraptured by Akaashi Keiji’s focus and determination; they were almost terrified at how effortlessly the young player kept his head during such a nerve-wrecking game.
Akaashi slipped two more aces past the other team’s defense, avoiding Nishinoya at all costs, and only let out a cheer when he knew his team had won.
At the end of the tournament ceremony (little 4 feet 5 inches Nishinoya rightfully receiving the Best Libero award), Akaashi tied for the Best Setter award with another player and was approached by three different scouts afterwards—Ubugawa, Nohebi Academy and Fukurodani.
The scouts spoke to Akaashi evenly, with the exception of the Fukurodani representative; he had to leave quickly because his team made it to Nationals and the bus was leaving in the next hour. Despite this brief conversation, after Akaashi and his team celebrated the last day of volleyball club activities, he was leaning towards Fukurodani for several reasons: firstly, Akaashi remembered Nohebi’s main player, Suguru Daisho, from his second year of junior high. Although he knew he could tolerate almost anyone, as long as they played volleyball the right way, he really had no interest in having his patience and morality tested so often on a daily basis—it wasn’t good for his health. He also got the feeling that Suguru didn’t like him very much, and seeing how drastically different their personalities were, this made perfect sense—Nohebi was definitely out of the running.
Secondly, the more Akaashi looked at Ubugawa, the less he thought he would fit into their system. Their team was all power, all jump serves, all long hair and inner-city intimidation—Akaashi didn’t possess any of those qualities. Although he was still a growing boy, he didn’t expect himself to pass the 190-centimeter mark, and gaining weight, much less, gaining muscle, had always been difficult for him; he also didn’t want to grow his hair out. This probably wasn’t a requirement, but Akaashi thought teams should blend as one, and if he was the only member without shaggy hair and a headband to hold his locks back, he would stand out more than anyone and ruin the entire image of the word “team.”
That left him with one last option—Fukurodani.
For the entire two-weeks of Nationals, Akaashi Keiji watched the Fukurodani team, and the Fukurodani team alone. Naturally, the first person he noticed was the volleyball team’s wing hitter, the first year spark-plug, the striking enigma of all striking enigmas, Bokuto Kōtarō.
Maybe it was the hair…maybe it was those excited golden eyes that first struck Akaashi’s attention—he found them endearing, strangely captivating, and extremely unique. After some thought, he realized it wasn’t any of these characteristics that drew him towards Bokuto.
It was his energy.
“And there’s another point scored by Bokuto Kōtarō, the outstanding first year from Fukurodani Academy.” The announcer said, causing Keiji to look up from his notes. He was marking the techniques of the second and first year players to his current setting abilities, marking what he could do differently to adjust to their needs. “A hard cut right through the hands of Ushijima Wakatoshi, another first year stand-out in this tournament. It takes a lot of power to break through something like that.”
Bokuto roughly rustled the hair up of his fellow first year, the other wing spiker named Konoha, who laughed and cheered with his friend in celebration of the statement just made against Ushijima. “That’s right!” Akaashi saw Bokuto yell, slapping the hands and grinning brightly at his teammates; he looks so happy, Akaashi thought, intrigued by this owl-like creature, who he had yet to write any notes for. That takes a lot of energy, being that excitable all the time…I wonder how he does it.
For a solid three-minutes, Akaashi stared at the TV screen, following the camera as it frequently panned-over the rambunctious first year as he went flying around the court, always at the center of attention, always shouting in the background. His hand didn’t move an inch, and his eyes never left the screen. The whole house was silent, the only noise coming from the announcers on TV, whose comments went unheard by Keiji, as all he could zone-in on was this strange phenomenon that was Bokuto Kōtarō.
When the first set ended, Akaashi snapped out of his funk; he wrote down #4: BOKUTO, and began observing the wing spiker.
Lots of young strength, he jotted, keeping an eye on the small, but prominent muscles of Bokuto’s back and shoulders as he went up for a spike. Not sure if the hair is natural or a fashion statement, but I guess that doesn’t matter too much; he has good stepping ability, and is a decent blocker, though his timing could use a bit of work…overall, he has a lot of ace qualities, though it might be too early to consider him that, even though his talent is supposedly the reason Fukurodani made it to Nationals. The name Kōtarō is very manly, and means thick or big, which goes along with his solid body; there’s a lot of mass there, heavy-duty muscle. Bokuto is, ironically, a type of horned owl. Thick owl: I don’t think I’ve ever seen a name so fitting on someone.
Fukurodani’s third-year setter sent a quick Bokuto’s way, and Akaashi watched as the ball went flying into stands, meant to avoid the large block of Shiratorizawa’s freakishly tall players. Bokuto wilted immediately, and suddenly, the gears were turning behind those big golden eyes—
What…what the hell is THAT?
Akaashi sat back against his coach in surprise, watching as the colorful wing spiker’s hands went up into his hair, gripping the strands tightly as unheard apologizes spewed out of the first-year’s agape mouth. He looked like he was in agony, all because of a hitting error; sure, it sent the ball into the crowd, which was a pretty embarrassing thing to do at Nationals, but maybe they would want Bokuto to autograph it for them after the game or something; it wasn’t like that was the match point or anything…there shouldn’t have been any reason for his mood to fall so far South—right?
For a long moment after, Akaashi thought he might have overestimated the self-guilt Bokuto had for himself, but once he saw the slightly aloof expression of the head coach, he figured he hadn’t been the only one who noticed the obvious slump in Bokuto’s mood.
As soon as the mood came, it was gone; Bokuto made an incredible save with his elbow, somehow managing to sneak the accidental-hit over the net and barely an inch away from the netting, almost impossible to pick-up. He launched himself off the ground and yelled that loud yell again, thrill shining in his eyes once more. Akaashi found himself completely entranced now, and for the remainder of the game, he inavertedly focused on no one else besides Bokuto Kōtarō. By the time the game finished, his entire page of notes was filled with little comments about the wing spiker’s game and habits.
Amazing hitting ability—about a foot away from the net is where he hits it the hardest. Excellent passing stance, able to dive correctly without injuring himself. Excitement that makes his teammates confident. Very admirable. Very charismatic, but a little goofy. Intentional block-hits are mostly accidental, but he does try. Becomes upset over his failures, almost to the point of being hysteric. Capable of blocking strong hits. Seems to still be growing, both in height and muscle. Cheerful to his teammates, helps pick them back up. Supportive, powerful. Able to adjust to bad sets? Pride gets him a long way. Weaknesses include naive, guilt, being dis-involved, stubbornness, airheaded, possibly a low IQ, silly, accidentally self-involved, simpleton…
When the final point was scored, the camera zoomed-in on the Fukurodani team, at the exact time Bokuto Kōtarō threw his hands into the air and gave a loud cheer, his expression bright with happiness, triumphant joy, ecstatic energy, and a yellow glow of pure victory in those wide, golden eyes. In that moment, Keiji thought he was actually on the court with Bokuto, celebrating along with him, and that his senpai’s proud gaze was directed towards himself.
“YEAAAAAAAAAAAH!!!!!!!!!!”
Wow, Akaashi thought, his own excitement getting the best of him. Are my hands shaking? This guy is almost too much… It would be really fun to play beside him…he’s like a glowing meteorite or something. How does he do it? Would I become a different player if I played next to him? I wonder if he works hard, or if it’s all natural talent; is he aware of all his weaknesses? What is he like during practice? Does he ever run out of energy? What’s with his dejected mode? Does that happen a lot?
“Keiji,” His mother said, interrupting his inner monologue. “What are you doing?”
“Just watching volleyball nationals,” Akaashi answered with a cough, looking back at his list. “I think I might apply to Fukurodani.”
“That’s a good school…are they good at volleyball, too?”
“They’re very skilled.”
“Ah, I see…” She said, leaning over to look at the TV. Akaashi silently hoped Bokuto didn’t hip-bump one of his teammates again while his mother was watching—he didn’t want her to think he was falling into bad influences by attending Fukurodani. “What makes you want to go there?”
At that, Akaashi paused, not having asked himself that question yet; he hadn’t really ever considered it an option, rather jumping right into his imagination, wondering how he was going to fit-in on their team in the near future. He had already imagined himself in their uniforms, and decided that he liked their school colors, and their mascot—they had a cool mascot. Owls are cool, Akaashi thought, trying to find an answer for himself before giving his mother one. Their coach is very respected, the school is high-class, advanced…it’s only a thirty-minute subway ride away, which means I won’t have to wake-up too early…their school colors look good with my skin tone, and their volleyball team is well-rounded, fundamental, fun to watch, and Bokuto-san is some kind of hero…
On command, the camera panned over Fukurodani’s team, watching as they celebrated amongst themselves. Bokuto was in the middle of everything, capturing everyone’s attention with his loud cheers and repetitive shouts of “Hey hey hey!”
…Those eyes. I just can’t say no to those eyes, Akaashi thought, watching the wonder and determination dance around in those golden orbs. He wants to win so badly…how can I not want to play with someone like that? It makes him incredibly handsome, and I want to play next to him. I want to make him proud. I want to be the kohai who he takes under his wing.
I want Bokuto to be my senpai.
The smaller comment of Bokuto being handsome went unnoticed by Akaashi, due to his excitement over the idea of playing alongside the wing spiker.
“It’s a great school.” He said, answering his mother simply. “I think I’ll like it there.”
Akaashi didn’t know what his mother did after that, because he returned to his notes and furiously began organizing the notes, re-reading and mentally mapping how he was going to train in order to extend his technique; there was only a short window of time in which he would have until the deadline of applying for high schools rushed upon them. He had to be prepared to answer any questions, to buy new volleyball shoes for his growing feet, to gather his schooling samples for the application, and to prepare his mind for the entrance exams. Sure, it was only January, but Akaashi Keiji had never been one to do things last-minute, with the exception of winning the junior high tournament, but even then, he considered their second set loss to be his fault for reasons that were only understood by Keiji himself.
But before he did all of that, Akaashi watched the national men’s volleyball tournament.
Most of all, he watched Bokuto. Every day, every point scored, Akaashi grew more and more impressed with the young hitter. His mood swings became quite noticeable, but Akaashi wrote them off as a one-time thing, caused by his nervousness—this was his first national tournament, after all. Everyone gets nervous sometimes. Not Akaashi, but everyone else. During the second game, Akaashi actually cheered out-loud for Fukurodani, grinning to himself and staring in awe whenever Bokuto showed even more spirit than Akaashi thought he was capable of; his need and desire to play next to this handsome ace continued to elevate, and soon, he found himself being distracted by more than just Bokuto’s playing style.
His attitude is just so addicting, the setter thought, intrigued by Bokuto’s high, expressive eyebrows. He’s admirable, inspiring, and brings everyone’s mind-set up an entire level. Still, he reminds me of a child; his mood can easily be turned, but when he’s bouncing around so happily, you can’t help but bounce right along with him. It’s…endearing.
Bokuto slid across the floor, successfully diving for a tipped ball, causing his shorts to ride-up a long ways, revealing his extra-long knee pads, and a good part of his black briefs that had barbeque meats printed on them. Who knew they made those?
His thighs are really toned, Akaashi noted, watching as Bokuto blushed a little and hurriedly pushed his shorts back down. That’s cool…no wonder his shoulders are so broad. He must consume a lot of meat; I can just imagine him scarfing down chicken wings, licking his childish grin to get the sauce off his lips. I wonder what his favorite meat is. Maybe I should try to eat more with my vegetables. If I want to impress him, should I try to gain more muscle? Would that help, or would he find me more physically attractive than him, thus, severing our relationship on account of his immaturity? Well, maybe he’s not immature…maybe he’s just sensitive. I can just hear that boisterous, fun-to-listen-to voice of his, claiming he’s not insulted, just tired.
Bokuto went up for another kill, and part of his uniform rode-up, slipping out of his waistband, revealing just a hint of his muscular, amazingly narrow sides, adding to the suspicion that Akaashi made earlier about him still growing and gaining strength.
I wish I had abs like that, he thought to himself, unconsciously touching his own stomach. I wonder what they feel like; they’ve got to be one of the most impressive sets I’ve ever seen…people in junior high aren’t that toned. What junior high did Bokuto go to? Maybe he’s just always been this beefy, pun intended; I bet he’s always warm. He looks warm now, with his cheeks all flushed and his body pounding with energy…I wonder what his hand feels like when he gives you a high-five. Are his hands rough? Maybe a little in-between. A hug would certainly be something to witness…
Akaashi probably could have spent the entire tournament looking at his athletic build—but all good things must come to an end, in order for the next phase of greatness to begin.
In the third round of Nationals, Fukurodani’s growing star, Bokuto Kōtarō, had three hitting errors, two serving errors, and two shanked receives. After falling into what Akaashi soon dubbed the first-year’s “dejected-emo mode,” he was subbed out of the game, head down, expression the most agitated Akaashi had ever seen, sending a deep, striking pain of disappointment through the setter’s chest. Things were tense on the court, the games too close for comfort, each point agonizingly long-fought, and for the first time in years, Keiji’s mother had to tell him to lower his voice. Bokuto returned to the game in the final set, adding two more errors onto his statistics.
“Fukurodani Academy loses in the third set, 25-23, and will subsequently not advance in the National Tournament. Shiratorizawa will play the winner of Thursday’s game on Friday afternoon, we hope to see you there—”
Akaashi blindly stumbled back to the couch. Tears immediately began to pour from his eyes.
It seemed as if reality was finally reclaiming its position in Akaashi’s fantasy world; never in a million years would he ever think Fukurodani would be beaten. It just didn’t seem possible—with someone as chirpy and strong-willed as Bokuto on their team, how could they ever even fall behind? It was unbelievable. Akaashi refused to believe it, and yet, when he saw the third-years trying to hide their tears, the coach giving everyone comforting pats on the back, and Bokuto—Bokuto lowering his head in shame, in defeat, in complete hatred for his mistakes—
It hurt. It hurt so badly...
In Akaashi’s mind, he was already a part of the team; he had inserted himself into that mindset, and now, their agony was his agony. His chest ached with the abrupt ending of their season, with the sorrowful defeat in the third round, just when they seemed so close to getting into a rhythm that would take them all the way to the championship game…it was all over. Just like that. They had no time to mourn, no place where they could release their pitiful, nostalgic emotions; another game needed to be played on the same court. Someone else was going home, too.
They had to take their dignity elsewhere, where it would be all-but erased after hours of tears, memories, and bitter, bitter disappointment. They would have their regret and guilt for years, even though the game only lasted two-hours. Two-hours was enough to leave a burning reminder in the backs of their minds at all times.
Akaashi couldn’t bear it.
It’s not FAIR! He thought angrily, throwing himself into the couch pillow, as if that would keep him from feeling the anguish of the defeat. It’s not fair! Why did they have to lose? Bokuto’s amazing! He can break through blocks and make amazing saves and get his team pumped-up! And they have five third-years! They shouldn’t have lost! The third-years are gone now, they can’t return, EVER, and they only made it to the third round! Akaashi argued with nobody, raging at how unfair this situation was. Why did it hurt him so much? Why was he so upset at their loss? Was it because of that dejected look on Bokuto-san’s face? Was it because of the terrible combination of five third-years, one being their talented setter? Was it because of how frightening Shiratorizawa’s head coach was? Was it because he—
…Wait.
Wait…
Wait, Akaashi thought, a realization slowly dawning on him as he lifted his head from the pillow, tears halting for a short moment. Fukurodani’s setter…their setter…is a third year. That means…he won’t be with them next year. That means…they’re in-need of a setter to go along with their admirable, talented, self-destructive wing spiker. Their scout spoke to me after the tournament, and the academy is only a thirty-minutes away from my house—
They need a new setter.
Bokuto needs a new setter.
Akaashi flew over to his mother’s computer, quickly printing-out every last page of entrance forms for Fukurodani Academy; he completed and triple-checked all of his answers within the span of four hours, and mailed the papers at one in the morning.
In mid-March, two days after all the third years in Japan graduated, Akaashi Keiji received his acceptance letter, and an application for the Fukurodani volleyball club.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The First Day of Practice
Name: Akaashi Keiji
Year: 1
Class: 5
Age: 15
Position: Setter
Previous Accomplishments in Volleyball: Tokyo Jump Tournament Champions (Junior High tournament, tied for the Best Setter award.
Nothing’s changed, Akaashi told himself, walking over to the gymnasium of Fukurodani volleyball at a moderate pace. I’ve checked the application five times. Everything is accurate, everything is spelled right, though I do wish I had more accomplishments to list…but that’s alright. I’ve grown a good five centimeters, I’ve adjusted my setting technique to match their current players, I’m wearing the required white and gold introduction uniform, I tried to flatten my hair, and I’m ready to play and learn as a volleyball player.
Just in case, I better make sure I didn’t put my pants on backwards.
Akaashi secretly glanced around to make sure no one else was watching, and checked his pants, finding that they were indeed, backwards.
Thankfully, that was the only blunder Akaashi came across. He strode over to the entrance of the gym, a thrilling surge of excitement running through his blood when the sound of volleyballs bouncing became audible to his ears. The thought of actually meeting and playing alongside of the same players he had seen on TV at the National level was nothing short of amazing, and almost too hard to believe.
Without missing a beat, lest he should miss an opportunity to be near these incredible players, the first year hurried inside the gym.
“How many applications are there?”
“Seven.”
“Wow! Going to Nationals really helps our roster!”
“Obviously.”
The gymnasium was just as beautiful as Akaashi expected; he found himself daydreaming for a few moments until someone called him out, and only then did he realize that almost everyone was staring at him. The wing spiker he recognized as Akinori Konoha was closest to him, followed by their starting libero, Haruki Komi. They both looked extremely interested in Akaashi, having never really heard or seen a person with such a level-headed aura—they were in the same year as Bokuto, so this surprise made sense.
“You’re a first year?” Konoha asked.
“Yes; I’m Akaashi Keiji.”
Konoha, seemingly recognizing the name, brightened-up and offered his hand.
“I’m Konoha, second year. What position do you play?”
“Setter.”
“Ahhh…good. It’s hard practicing without a setter; Bokuto’s been driven mad this past few weeks.”
Why am I not surprised?
“I suppose that’s to be expected of him.” Akaashi replied.
“Haha!” Komi laughed, looking at the first year in awe. “Is it that obvious?!”
The head coach interrupted their introduction.
“Everyone gather around, please!”
Konoha and Komi gave Akaashi one last once-over, then jogged over to stand in a line of players already admitted into the club. Akaashi took in the appearance of the other first years applying, satisfied to know that he was the tallest out of them. My goal is to never fail my senpais, he repeated to himself, walking over to take his place at the end of the newbie line. I won’t rest until their dreams are fulfilled. They deserve that much. I will listen to what they have to offer, I will take example from their teachings, and hopefully, I will teach them something in return.
…Now where is B—
“So!” Coach Takeyuki said loudly. “These are our new club applicants for the year. Why don’t you guys go ahead and introduce yourselves first.”
Akaashi listened as the club members introduced themselves, mentally going through his lists. Konoha likes his sets further from the net. He’s a feisty defensive player and seems a little shrewd, playful. Komi is skilled and fast, and seems to be a good guy with a kind disposition. Then there’s that smiling guy who I don’t think is actually smiling, Yamato Sarukui, who has a powerful serve and is a skilled blocker, he thought, watching the second-year’s lips move with fascination. He really does look like he’s smiling, though…but where’s—
“I’m Bokuto Kōtarō!” A cheery, proud voice said, making Akaashi’s eyes flicker over to the final person in line. “You can call me Bokuto! I usually wear number four, I’m the vice-captain this year, and I’m a wing spiker! Oh, and I’m a second year, class one, but you don’t really need to know that.”
“All you had to do was state your name, Bokuto.” Konoha whispered to him.
Akaashi barely heard a word.
After all this time…there he is, Keiji thought, staring at Bokuto in wonder. He made sure none of the other club members could recognize his expression as one of awe. High grey eyebrows raised in a challenging, playful position…bright, excited eyes…has he gotten taller?...he might be the same height as me now; that’s the same build, but somehow more muscular than nationals, which wasn’t that long ago…the same innocently confident grin always hanging on his lips, hiding a wide-mouthed smile…the narrow slant from his broad torso to his strong waist…and that damn spikey hair, full of black and grey streaks…
This is Bokuto Kōtarō, the ace of Fukurodani.
Akaashi only snapped out of his funk when he realized one of the first years was introducing himself. His heart was racing for some reason other than the fact that he was now standing in the presence of one of Japan’s youngest aces—how did he not notice how defined Bokuto-san’s biceps were? He couldn’t have missed that at Nationals…then again, there was more than enough of charismatic characteristics about Bokuto that could have easily distracted him…
When it was finally Akaashi’s turn, he stepped forward with absolute confidence, feeling the tone of the room shift, and said what he had been wanting to say since January.
“My name is Akaashi Keiji; I’m a setter from Kantoranski Junior High. I was scouted by three different high schools, this one included. When I was doing some scouting of my own during nationals, I decided that my skills would be most useful where I would have a group of upperclassmen to guide me.” Akaashi explained simply. “From this experience, I hope to be enough help to which our new team will make the nationals again; I would like to do whatever I can for my senpais to get even further in the tournament. Thank you.”
Keiji bowed once, and stepped back into line.
Following a long moment of silence, Coach Takeyuki cleared his throat and spoke. “We’re glad to have you all here. To get started, I think we’ll do some different drills, then we’ll do some running outside, and we’ll see where we go from there. Koji—get that passing drill started, please.”
Just as Akaashi was lacing-up his shoes, a pair of wide owl eyes came popping into his vision. Bokuto was leaning down in front of him, staring wildly, looking a little…nervous, maybe? Keiji couldn’t determine what it was, exactly, because he was trying to control his breathing; after all this time, he was finally meeting Bokuto in person. It wasn’t terrifying, but he did feel a little anxious—what if Bokuto-san didn’t like him? Is he capable of not liking someone? Of course he was…would Akaashi’s seriousness, his impenetrable focus put Bokuto’s playful, child-like personality off?
For a strange second, the ace just watched Akaashi, not speaking, not doing anything but investigating this new setter. Then, his face split into a big smile, and he leaned even closer.
“Hey hey, you’re Akaashi! You’re a setter, right?”
“I am,” Keiji nodded once. His voice was only the tiniest bit shaky. “You’re Bokuto-san.”
“Sure am!” Bokuto grinned, overjoyed that his new kohai already knew who he was. Since it probably didn’t occur to him that he just introduced himself minutes earlier, it definitely didn’t occur to him that Akaashi Keiji already knew the in’s and out’s of his volleyball personality because he had been studying his character for three months. “Hey, wanna be my partner for the next drill? I’m really good at passing, and I promise I won’t mess you up!”
“That would be nice—thank you.”
On the inside, Akaashi was beaming; on the outside, he let the ends of his lips curve into a small smile, which his new senpai returned by grinning and hoisting Akaashi up onto his feet, waiting for his kōhai’s calm strides by jumping up and down beside him.
For the remainder of practice, Bokuto ensured that whenever there was a partner drill, he and Akaashi were a pair; his plan only failed when the coaches noticed his conniving and mixed-up the duos for “variety.” Akaashi was amused to witness, in person, Bokuto’s dejected mode—this round wasn’t a complete fit, but enough to where Bokuto was still pouting even after the drill was over.
“Akaashi!” Bokuto heaved after they finished with a footing drill. “Don’t you love that rush of energy you get from moving your feet so fast they start to look blurry?!”
A whack from Bokuto’s hand nearly sent Akaashi face-first into the ground.
“Mine didn’t look blurry, Bokuto-san.” He replied, coughing a little.
“Well next time I’ll make sure you’re going fast enough.” Bokuto teased, nudging his arm with a smirk.
I can’t keep up with this guy. How does he have so much energy? Keiji wondered. He would be wondering the same thing over and over again, even when they reached the final peak of their first practice together.
Throughout their drills, Akaashi was constantly kept in conversation, though he never risked getting in trouble when they were supposed to be focusing on their tasks. Bokuto wasn’t as aloof as Akaashi thought, but he was right when he predicted his senpai to be a very silly individual. He laughed a lot, joked a lot, grinned a lot, and his chest was always puffed-out in pride; when it came to spiking, however, Bokuto was a little more serious—a dark glimmer would sparkle in those shining yellow eyes, and once again, Akaashi found his heart racing at the sight.
It was when they began doing strength building exercises that he found his interest focused on something other than Bokuto’s lively personality.
Up-close, during their plank exercises, Akaashi discovered that Bokuto had smaller hands than he did, and that they didn’t look rough, but felt perfectly in-between, with some callouses around the edges of his palms. His tanned skin was surprisingly smooth, and his arms…were impressive. That was as far as he was going to go with his internal descriptions.
Akaashi wasn’t quite sure why Bokuto was so interested in becoming his friend; he didn’t complain, of course, but the only reason he could think of was his position on the court: a setter. In fact, Akaashi was pretty sure he was the only setter on the entire team, new recruits and all; it was quite possible that Bokuto was simply trying to get his new, inexperienced setter caught-up on the skill and intensity level of the second-years.
Again, Akaashi didn’t mind, but for some strange, pubescent reason, he found himself wishing Bokuto befriended him for another purpose.
Throughout practice, Akaashi noticed that the rhythm of the new Fukurodani team was at its best when the second years were together. There was five of them, and they seemed to know each other very well, and though none were capable of calming Bokuto down, nor were they successful in their attempts to make him lower his voice, they were all extremely skilled on the court. Akaashi remembered that Yamato was frequently subbed-in with the third year player last year, who matched his blocking ability, even though the guy was a good three inches shorter than Yamato. It appeared that they had taken the loss just as personally as Akaashi did.
Their game proved that.
Konoha was shrewd, just as he predicted; as mischievous and sleepy as his eyes looked, he went all-out on the floor, his smile more of a smirk whenever he made a good point or saved a ball from going into the next court. Bokuto was Bokuto, nothing less; he was intense, bouncing, bright and confident, and Akaashi couldn’t look anywhere in the gym without seeing him in the corner of his vision—once, Bokuto seemed to take advantage of his energy, stepping in front of each way Akaashi was attempting to look over the net. Once those dark green eyes swirled with midnight blue narrowed at him, Bokuto gave a cackling laugh and ran away. When he couldn’t see him, Keiji could hear him from all the way on the other side of the gym, and when they were running, Bokuto managed to keep a conversation going, telling the first year how he has only ran three penalties in his entire volleyball career, which was supposed to account for his steady breathing while running, only achieving the opposite. Akaashi pointed it out, and again, found himself in the presence of Bokuto’s famous “emo mode,” though more moderate when he realized his kōhai wasn’t saying so to be purposely snide.
So far, Fukurodani was the right choice.
“Alright! Let’s get into the Present Drill!”
“Bokuto-san, what’s the Present Drill?” Akaashi asked.
Bokuto went to answer, but was cut-off by the captain’s instructions; he pointed to where some other first years were standing, then ran off to get into another line.
“Akaashi, since you’re our setter, you go stand by the net.” Coach Takeyuki instructed. “Once a player successfully passes a serve, he will then dive for a ball that will be thrown at him; if he fails, he will go back in line. If he doesn’t fail, he will receive his present and be set a ball by Akaashi on the other side of the net. Understand?”
Setting, the dark-haired boy thought excitedly. Setting I can do. This is my chance to prove to my team just how serious I am about going to nationals.
“Ready? And…go!”
Akaashi waited and waited, going through the spiker’s setting preferences one last time. Konoha was the first to successfully receive a serve and pop-up a difficult ball; he ran across the other side of the night cheerfully, grinning as he set himself up to slam a ball down. The assistant coach tossed a ball Keiji’s way.
Away from the net, a little shorter than his wing span.
Akaashi tapped the volleyball up with his long fingers, timing it perfectly with the second year’s jump. Konoha hit the ball right in the center of his palm, smashing it down into the middle of the court.
“KONOHAAAAA!!!”
“Nice kill!!!”
“Next!”
“Nice set, Akaashi-kun.” Konoha grinned, giving the first year a high-five as he passed by.
“Thanks.”
Man that felt good, Akaashi thought, letting out a quick breath of relief. His fingers were tingling with excitement, eager for more. This is better than I imagined. Who’s next, who’s next?!
For the next ten minutes, Akaashi sent perfect sets to each member of the team, focused on nothing but volleyball. The cheers spurred him on, making his eyes glow with determination, and the nods of approval from the coaches was more than enough to make him perform even better. Once in a rare while the set would be off, but never enough to be considered a disaster; it took Akaashi quite some time to realize that the one person he desperately wanted to give a good set to had not yet earned his present.
Bokuto-san.
Looking to his right for the first time in a long time, Keiji saw Bokuto step into the court; he was in his destruction mode, but the fierceness in his eyes told Akaashi that he hadn’t given-in to his bad mood quite yet. For being a skilled passer, he seemed to be having trouble popping the ball up while diving; this time, however, he passed both volleyballs perfectly, throwing himself off the ground when the coach said it was okay. The other second years commented on how long it took him to get his present, but neither Bokuto nor his new setter heard—he ran over to the other side of the court, relief and determination in his wide owl eyes. The first year suddenly became serious, stiffening his posture as the ace of Fukurodani planted his right foot behind the ten-foot line, bending his knees and lowering his arms back, ready to attack.
There was a pause—a very brief second wait where both Bokuto and Akaashi silently recognized the moment as the first toss the new setter would be sending his way; the first set of a new dynasty. The first set from the kōhai to the senpai. The very first set from Akaashi Keiji to Bokuto Kōtarō.
The volleyball was tossed into the air.
The moment zipped by within an instant—Akaashi already had it memorized, and it took less than a second for him to position his fingers the right way. Right in front of the blocker, he thought. Far enough away where he can swing with all his might, without running into the net, but close enough where the opponents can feel his energy, fear his energy…
Bokuto flew through the air like a weightless owl, swung his wing back, and sent the volleyball crashing into the gym floor with a powerful gust of wind, the booming noise echoing throughout the entire room; Akaashi barely saw the ball hit the ground, but when he watched it fly into the perfect spot, right in front of the blocker, right where the opposing hawk would be able to fear his energy…he didn’t bother to look.
He trusted his senpai, and Bokuto didn’t let him down.
Everything was quiet—then, the second years erupted into cheers.
“BOKUTO!!!!!!!!”
“YOU HAVEN’T HIT IT THAT HARD SINCE NATIONALS!!!!!”
“NICE KILL, BOKUTO!!!!”
“OOOOOOOO!!!!”
Looking over, Akaashi found his heart racing again; he had never set it to someone and received this kind of response, from both the team and from himself. He felt…empowered. He knew that he was part of the cause—the team was happy, Bokuto, his senpai, was happy…because of him. In a game, that would have easily been a point, maybe at the most crucial time in the game, maybe even a game at nationals, maybe—
“Akaashi…”
Bokuto was staring at Akaashi, his golden eyes wide with shock. His arms were hanging limply at his sides, his mouth hung-open. The first year took a second to admire this expression on his senpai, then let his own joy reply to the shock of Fukurodani’s ace.
“Are you going to pout again, Bokuto-san?” Akaashi teased lightly. Part of him was serious.
Bokuto froze, then rapidly shook his head.
“Good.” The setter nodded, not hiding his small smile. The rest of the team was talking excitedly, giving Bokuto enough time to compose himself, if only a little—when his mouth began functioning again, he squeezed out a question.
“Akaashi,” He repeated, though his kōhai was already giving him all his attention. “Can you do it again?”
Keiji gave him a long stare, then turned to the assistant coach.
“Can we have another toss, please?”
The first year set the volleyball again, the same as last time, only quicker, and again, Bokuto slammed it into the ground—if it had been dirt, there would be a huge hole where the ball came into contact with it. Unlike last time, Bokuto wasn’t frozen; this time, he was completely ecstatic.
“AKAASHI!” The ace cried, running over to grab onto his shoulders. His shouting hurt the ears of the entire gym, especially Akaashi’s. “How did you do that?!!!! How did you know that’s where I like my sets?!!!”
“Please stop shaking me, Bokuto-san.”
“Seriously though!!! How are you so awesome?!! You’re the coolest person on the team, right behind me!!! THAT’S how awesome you are!!!”
Akaashi was overwhelmed with secret joy; Bokuto Koutaro, the spikey haired, high-eyebrowed, tanned skinned, muscular bodied, incredibly spirited ace of Fukurodani loved his sets. Even though he was roughly shaking his entire body back and forth, Akaashi couldn’t find it in him to be irritated, because it’s not like he was hurting him, and the fact that he could move him so effortlessly impressed Keiji for reasons unknown. The only thing he could think to say was “Please stop shaking me, Bokuto-san,” because he just loved the fact that he finally had someone—well…not just someone—Keiji was glad he had Bokuto to call his senpai.
“Stop shaking him around, Bokuto, you’re gunna knock his brain cells out.”
At that comment, Bokuto released Akaashi, but stayed close; he was so overjoyed that there were actually tears forming in his owl eyes. Akaashi’s own locked onto that gaze, unable and unwilling to look away.
“I’m sorry! It’s just—it’s just bewildering!” The ace continued to yelp, grabbing at his hair. Now, however, a huge smile had replaced his expression of stupor, looking less mischievous than usual and more genuine.
“Bewildering?” Konoha repeated, eyes wide. “Where did you learn that word?”
The other team members laughed, and the coaches decided to break-up the powwow by calling it a day; as a first year, Akaashi was supposed to take down the nets and pick up the volleyballs thrown around the gym, even though he wasn’t an official member of the team yet. Like months before, he already considered himself an active club member of Fukurodani—being named the official setter would come as a pleasant action of acknowledgement.
This was a great first day, Akaashi thought to himself proudly, grabbing a few volleyballs from off the floor. If Bokuto-san finds my sets agreeable, I shouldn’t have a problem adjusting to everyone else; he was the one I was most concerned about. I wonder if he’s this childish all the time. Maybe h—
“Akashee!”
Keiji looked over his shoulder to see Bokuto standing there excitedly, hurrying to grab the remainder of the volleyballs on the gym floor.
“What junior high did you say you were from?” He asked quickly. Akaashi was a little distracted upon seeing Bokuto’s arms so close—it’s no wonder the name Kōtarō means thick, he thought, silently marveling at the already prominent muscles of his senpai’s wide forearms.
Oh…and although his hands were a good inch shorter than his kohai’s, he was holding two volleyballs in each palm.
“Kantoranski.”
“Ooo! Do they have a good setting coach or something?! Is that how you’re so good, Akaashi?!” Bokuto inquired, following the dark-haired teen who was wheeling the volleyball cart into the supply closet; the ace picked-up one of the heavy-duty poles on his way. “I bet you’re gunna get taller, too, which always helps with blocking. And you—”
“You don’t have to help clean-up, Bokuto-san.” Keiji reminded him, taking the pole from his hand (yes, his hand); he wasn’t able to hold it as easily as the electrified-hair teenager who continued to compliment Akaashi, telling him he doesn’t care about statuses or anything like that.
Suddenly, one of those large tanned hands grabbed onto the pole again, preventing Akaashi from putting it away.
“I’m not going to drop it, Bokuto-san.”
Bokuto’s eyebrows rose higher (if possible), and Keiji was once again surprised to have five seconds pass by without a single syllable falling from his senpai’s mouth. When he did manage to speak, Akaashi was a little taken-aback by the request.
“Wanna practice?”
“Practice,” Akaashi repeated, furrowing his eyebrows. “We have practice…tomorrow.”
“Well yeah!” Bokuto nodded; he had already started taking the ball racks back out. “But I mean right now! Everyone else is leaving, so we can have the entire gym to ourselves! It’ll be a good way to start our new friendship, right?”
Akaashi looked at his senpai for a long, hard moment—he could definitely say no; saying no had never been a problem for Akaashi. What he was concerned about, however, was the fact that Bokuto’s childish antics would surely open more gateways, and soon, Akaashi would find himself being relentlessly pursued by the large owl. Sure, practice was always good, but there was such thing as a limit, and the first year wanted to set boundaries for this moody spiker.
“I have to get home tonight,” Keiji said. “But tomorrow, if I’m made part of the team, we can practice for a while, if that’s okay.”
“Of course you’ll be part of the team, Akaasheee!” Bokuto grinned cheerfully, throwing an arm around the first year and ruffling up his already-messy hair. “I’m the vice-captain, the ace, and the coolest senpai on the team.”
“Bokuto-san, please—”
“I’ll make sure of it! Don’t worry about a thing, Akaashi Keiji!”
When Akaashi was released from the headlock, he took a moment to recover, and in that moment, Bokuto had shoved the rest of the ball racks into the supply closet and locked the door. He’s even more playful than I imagined, Akaashi thought, flattening down his hair again. Note to self: be cautious of Bokuto-san’s high-fives. They could be deadly.
“Woah!” Bokuto said, glancing around the empty gym. “Where’d everybody go?”
“They must have gone home,” Akaashi replied, checking the clock. “It’s getting late.”
“Not for an ace!” Bokuto shouted. His kōhai watched as his new senpai looked up to the ceiling and began to yell.
“THE ACE OF FUKURODANI NEVER SLEEPS! NEVERRRR!!!”
“Please lower your voice, Bokuto-san.” Akaashi requested somewhat gently.
The only reply he got was Bokuto grinning at him; the talking began again, but this time, Keiji found himself engaged in the conversation, not by speaking, but by listening—as they walked out of the gym together, his senpai began a more serious topic, although his energy was still at an all-time high.
“Aren’t you so excited for your first year?!” The ace questioned. “I know I was. I bet you’ll have a great first year.”
“I’m hoping it will be as successful as your first year,” Akaashi nodded. “Hopefully even a bit more.”
“Yeah! I mean, passing and stuff is boring, but hitting is so cool, and setting is pretty cool, too.”
“You have to be an excellent receiver in order to earn kills, Bokuto-san. It’s more fun that way as well.”
Bokuto gave a small pout, which reminded him of another topic.
“I know…but I get mad at myself when I miss a pass! It’s so frustrating, you know? Caus’ I’m a hitter, and I know that they aren’t going to hit a straight, but I still can’t pass it even when I know what’s coming!!!”
Bokuto-san’s obliviousness was almost amusing to Akaashi—almost.
“Yes…I’ve noticed that you seem to fall into a dejected mood when things don’t go your way.” Keiji hummed thoughtfully. “Although I’ve studied and adapted to your hitting style, I’m still not quite sure how I’m going to remedy that particular issue…”
“You studied my hitting?!” Bokuto cried in surprise, stopping his stride. “Akaashi, that’s so cool!”
“It’s just what a good setter would do.” The first year shrugged modestly.
Bokuto went quiet for a record-breaking seven seconds as they continued to walk down the path of the isolated city streets. It was a nice day out, with a little bit of wind and a beautiful sunset casting over the water puddles on the sidewalks. Bokuto sweated more than Akaashi, but thankfully, he must have been wearing a new shirt in his cycle of practice clothing, because he didn’t smell that terrible; the heat was radiating off his flushed skin, and this time, Keiji could not ignore a strange tickling sensation inside his chest. He didn’t acknowledge it directly, but rubbed his chest-bone to check for an actual medical emergency.
The subway still hadn’t left yet, and both boys needed to be on it to get home—Akaashi hoped he didn’t live nearby his new senpai, because as endearing as the ace’s spirit was, he didn’t think he would be able to stand hearing that shouting (not that his senpai didn’t have a nice voice) during the early hours of the morning. Then again, Bokuto didn’t seem like the type of teenager to be a morning person…
Then again, Bokuto wasn’t exactly a “typical” teenager.
The idea sent a spark of concern through Akaashi, interrupted by the vice captain’s ramblings. He let him talk again, knowing from last year’s national tournament that Bokuto thrives off empowering others; the ace inspires, after all, which is exactly why his talent was a win-win for the entire team. By empowering others, Bokuto-san empowered himself.
Perhaps the way to bring Bokuto from his moods (the mild dips, at least) is to inspire him by using the other skilled members of our team, the first year brain-stormed. I should come up with at least one method before the season starts. I wonder if his mood swings are predictable, or completely random. Maybe it’s a condition many children suffer with.
Akaashi realized he had been stuck in his own world for a few minutes and quickly looked left to see what Bokuto was up to; he was met by those big yellow eyes again, directed right at him. They had apparently been focused on his face for quite some time, judging on how harshly Bokuto blinked once he was caught in the act.
“What is it?” Keiji prompted.
“Nothing, nothing.” Bokuto shook his head. “Oh! I should probably warn you about my shoulder slumping.”
“Shoulder slumping,” Akaashi repeated in questioning.
“Yeah, when I sleep on the bus, I always slump against other people’s shoulders! It’s more comfy that way, so I guess I automatically go into that position. Just wanted to warn you, because I drool a lot.” The ace admitted, scratching the back of his head sheepishly. “Konoha always put one of his towels underneath my head so he wouldn’t get stains on his jacket…you can do that too, if you want, but I just wanted to warn you!”
Akaashi didn’t allow himself to filter his confusion.
“Alright…but…how does that concern me, Bokuto-san?”
Bokuto’s pace faltered a bit; he turned to look over, an almost childish expression of hope beaming in his wide eyes.
“Well…you do want to sit next to your senpai on the bus, don’t you, Akaashee?”
The first year stopped their pace completely, staring at the white-haired owl with hidden amazement. Of all the things Akaashi had thought of over the last few weeks, the bus rides and his new friends were not either of them. He had almost forgotten about the idea all together—during junior high, Keiji always chose to sit alone, preferring to listen to his music and study setting techniques rather than singing at the top of his lungs and opening and closing the bus windows. He had never considered the fact that he and Bokuto-san wouldn’t only be teammates, but acquaintances, friends…
According to his senpai, the definition of “friends” meant letting your bus buddy drool on your shoulder as he sleeps.
“I mean when we go to training camps and practice matches and stuff!” Bokuto continued, not recognizing Akaashi’s inner-turmoil. “It’ll be fun! I can go through our line-ups and everything else with you, if you need it! But you’re smarter than me, so you’ll probably remember, but just in case, I’ll keep a list of our plays in my bag. I can show you the ropes so you won’t be nervous, an—”
“I’m not nervous.” Akaashi interrupted. His tone didn’t back him up as much as he wanted it to.
Bokuto looked down at his kōhai and cocked his head to the side.
“You are a little,” He pointed out. “You were when you walked into the gym earlier.”
“You saw me?” Keiji asked quickly.
“Of course, Akaashee!”
Akaashee wasn’t given enough time to recover from this revelation. Bokuto dove head-first into his explanation, not noticing how entranced his kōhai was by the light layer of sweat glowing across his neck, by the sunset reflecting off his already golden irises, by the way his confident grin both matched and didn’t match his determined gaze…he didn’t notice any of this, because he was caught in his own daydreams about a certain dark-haired first year walking into the Fukurodani volleyball gymnasium for the very first time.
Naturally, the tall, dark-haired teen stood-out; everyone in the entire gym looked at him as he walked-in, but Bokuto doubted that they saw what he did. It was a combination of both athleticism and gracefulness, both slim stature and untoned upper-arms that made him look the tiniest bit chubby, both sharp and smooth angles of his face, both emerald green and midnight blue swimming in those half-lidded eyes, and those wavy dark locks with little curls on the ends…
How could Bokuto not notice him?
“I mean, at first all I saw was you, caus’ you’re pretty—pretty distracting, you know, but then I noticed how cool and seriously determined your eyes looked, and I also saw how you were a little bit nervous, because your lips were a little too loose, like you didn’t know what to say, and you were wringing your hands together, just like you are now.”
Unfortunately, Bokuto was right: Keiji was playing with his hands nervously, holding one in the other as his eyes never left Bokuto’s, not even when his shock and surprise increased by the hundreds.
“I don’t mean to make you so nervous!” The ace apologized with a grin, crossing his big, beautiful forearms. “I know I’m cool and everything, but I’m really not a scary guy; I was nervous for the first practice too, and I’m a second year! And…and when you gave me that incredible, amazing, cool GWAH toss, I got really nervous, but it was more of an exciting nervous, you know?”
Fukurodani’s newest setter was speechless; he knew Bokuto Koutaro would be quite a character, but…he just…had forgotten to realize that he was a person—and every person is capable of feeling sensitivity. It was surprising, because Akaashi had never seen Bokuto out of a national game before; the intensity was always there, but…
Bokuto was unpredictable.
So far, it had been in a good way. Of course, there’s always the fact that his unpredictability links directly to his inconvenient mood swings, but at the moment, Akaashi didn’t remember that.
Suddenly, the setter’s breath escaped his lungs; Bokuto had laid his hands on Akaashi’s shoulders, and that knowing grin was still lingering on his lips, but this time around, his eyes were even more childish—they were peering into Keiji’s emerald green, midnight blue globes with such hopefulness Akaashi almost forgot that no question had been asked yet; he was ready to say yes, without knowing the conditions or consequences.
“So, Akaashee,” Bokuto said, pronouncing his name the same as always. “…Do you wanna sit with me on the bus?”
There was a long, long pause; Keiji couldn’t stop his mind or heart from racing, couldn’t prevent his eyes from looking away…and it scared him a little bit. He wasn’t sure if he couldn’t look away because of how powerful the moment was, or because……b-because…
“Yes,” Akaashi breathed. “I would like that, Bokuto-senpai.”
Bokuto lit-up like a Christmas tree in Central Park on December 24th.
“Great!” He cheered louder than Akaashi had ever heard. Toned arms suddenly pulled the younger boy into a hug, squeezing him tightly, trapping him between warm hands and an even warmer chest, only separated by a thin, damp layer of blue fabric. “I’ll help take you to Nationals, Akaaashee! We can help each other out for the next two years!”
“I look forward to it.” Akaashi forced out, his breath completely gone, due to multiple reasons.
“Whoohoo!”
Bokuto released his kōhai and began dancing with his arms held high in the air.
“heY hEY HEY!!! This is the BESTEST DAY of my LIFE!”
“It’s ‘best,’ Bokuto-san.”
The comment went unheard, and just as Akaashi was starting to recover enough to think like a normal human being, his senpai grabbed onto his hand and lurched him forward, blabbering about both nationals and the subway.
“Man, we’re gunna miss the train! We got to take the train to nationals last year, it was really cool! And Konoha, Komi and I all roomed together, and they said they would share a bed because I sprawl-out when I sleep; at our first team camp last year, they said I kicked poor little Komi against the wall because I needed more room for my legs. But I won’t do that to you, promise, Akaashee! Jeez, we better hurry if we wanna catch the last one…come on! Let’s see how fast you can run! Try to keep up with me, okay?”
Akaashi was hanging on to every word, soaking-up even more information on his new senpai, and yet, his mind was in another world.
I can’t wait, Keiji thought. I can’t wait for the season to start. I can’t wait to practice with Bokuto-san after hours. I can’t wait to run and jump and block and serve and play in actual games with Bokuto-san, Fukurodani’s ace, the guy who helped lead their team to Nationals. I, Akaashi Keiji, have the privilege of being his setter. I get to set to him every single day. I get to adjust and help him as much as I can, and he’ll do the same for me. I know he will. I chose him as my senpai; I know he won’t let me down. He can’t let me down.
Bokuto-san is incapable of ever letting me down.
“We made it,” Bokuto breathed in relief, stopping and releasing Keiji’s hand as they stood in front of the final train. “Good thing we ran, huh Akaashee?”
“Yeah.” Keiji answered blankly. He could still feel his senpai’s warmth surrounding his entire body. Bokuto shot him another grin as the doors opened.
“Come along, little owl! I’ll show you how to fall into the wave of the subway.”
“I’ve ridden the subway before, Bokuto-san.”
“Still, you have much to learn, Akaashee.”
Akaashi allowed himself a small smile while shaking his head and ducking into the train car. Bokuto gave a loud laugh, for no apparent reason, and led the first year through the crowd of people to a relatively quiet corner where the pair would still be able to make small talk, though, any conversation with Bokuto could hardly be considered small. Akaashi didn’t really mind; he let his senpai speak without interrupting, content just to listen to a string of random topics, wondering how long it would take before he would be able to kindly tell Bokuto to be quiet without injuring his ego, or worse, hurting his feelings. He wondered how long it would take before he and Bokuto became completely in-synch on the court. He wondered if Bokuto would really drool on his shoulder like he said. He wondered how he should approach him when dealing with a severe mood swing, on and off the court. He wondered what it was like to slam a ball down against the floor so hard that the opposing team could still hear the noise a full minute after the action…
He wondered what Bokuto-san’s world was like, and if his spot was right next to him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~
A little over a two months later, on the first bus ride of their first practice match, three-hours away from Fukurodani Academy, when Akaashi Keiji felt Bokuto Kōtarō’s head fall onto his shoulder, and saw the ace’s mouth fall open and begin drooling on his setter’s jacket, he knew he had chosen the right senpai.
Before they had even gotten on the bus, Bokuto had known Keiji was a little nervous. As soon as he arrived, surprisingly early for someone who seemed so forgetful, he threw an arm around his kōhai and told him not to worry.
“We’re gunna dominate those snakes!” He said loudly, much too loudly for the early hours of the morning. “I can’t wait for this season! I could hardly sleep last night I was so excited for today! I hope you slept long and hard, Akaashee, because I’m really feeling full of energy today.”
“Are you usually not full of energy, Bokuto-san.” Keiji murmured. It wasn’t a question.
“Ah-haHaHA!” His senpai cackled, making Konoha shoot him a sleepy stare. “I knew you were nervous, Akaashi!”
Well…he wasn’t wrong.
Akaashi was nervous for a number of reasons; number one, he was the starting setter at a high-class volleyball club at Fukurodani Academy. Number two, he was getting to live his dream about playing beside Bokuto-san, the ace, the mascot of the team. Number three…he didn’t want to disappoint Bokuto-san. Akaashi wasn’t one to psych himself out, but he was still a young first year—who’s to say he wouldn’t set the ball out of bounds on the first play, or trip over his feet during warm-ups? Usually, Keiji was used to having Bokuto-san embarrass (try to embarrass) him; he only ever embarrassed himself when Bokuto accidently forgot to put his shorts on and walked into the gym in his underwear and kneepads, or when he took off his kneepads after practice, revealing his knobby, strangely adorable knees, not to mention, the bottoms of his thighs that were usually covered by shorts and black elastic fabric…
Keiji sighed to himself and tried to think of a distraction. Now was not the time to be thinking of those weird incidents. He had his first official practice match in a little under three-hours; he needed to go over his setting techniques again. Even though Bokuto was in-fact, a morning person (thankfully, he did not live very close to the Akaashi residence), he had fallen asleep on the bus almost instantly, forgetting that he promised to go over the court positions with his kōhai before the match.
So far, Bokuto-san has fifteen key weaknesses, Akaashi thought, watching as the horned owl’s mouth let out a loud snore. Komi jumped in front of them, and Keiji bit-back a smile. Weakness number six: he loves to show-off. I remember the third day of practice, when he decided to try and attempt straight shots down the line—he had bragged to me about how cool he would look if he could pull it off when everyone was telling him straight-shots weren’t as proficient as cut-shots. I remember how his lips were turned into a confident grin, and how he said he would be ready to reply to anyone’s bad attitudes.
“In order to get to that point, Bokuto-san, you have to actually start practicing straights.”
The ace pouted after Akaashi informed him of this, mumbling something about how he was right, and how depressed he had been when all of his cut-shots started to get blocked, no matter how hard he hit the ball. That had been a terrible practice for him…but it was also the first time Keiji was able to lift the ace’s spirit. He wrote down a few more methods the team might be able to use after that, but decided they would just have to wait and see. Bokuto-san hadn’t mastered the straight quite yet, so lately, he was prone to even more bad mood swings.
Bokuto started talking more excitedly after that, telling his setter how hard he was going to practice, because he had never wanted to get something right so much before, and he wasn’t going to stop practicing until he got it right, or until he dropped-dead. Akaashi wanted to remind him that this was counterproductive, but decided to amuse the ace for a while.
His spirit was still as infectious as always.
Akaashi contented himself on the long bus ride by watching Bokuto-san sleep, tucked into the crook of his setter’s shoulder and neck. For as much as he drooled and snored, the wing spiker was actually a very motionless sleeper; apparently the incident with Komi at last year’s Nationals had been a one-time thing because he couldn’t get comfortable in the hotel bed. Akaashi’s jaw was tickled by the spikey white-grey hairs atop his head, but couldn’t find it in him to flatten the hairs down, partly because the first time Bokuto had taken a shower after practice and emerged from the locker-room with his hair flat, Akaashi’s legs almost gave out from underneath him.
Of course, in the moment, his expression would have looked as casual and as impassive as always.
Keiji gave a sigh at the memory, but didn’t hide a tiny smile that made its way to his lips. Even knowing that he would get crap for it later by his teammates, and probably his coaches as well, Akaashi lolled his head to the right, gently laying his head on top of Bokuto’s, met by a rush of warmth that calmed his earlier nerves immediately, and allowed him to slip into a sleepy mode for the remainder of the bus ride.
What else will Bokuto-san teach me? Akaashi wondered, inhaling deeply, getting a whiff of his senpai’s hair gel and natural scent of barbeque. He’s already taught me so much…and we still have a good two years with each other…
Am I now a part of Bokuto-san’s world?
Bokuto woke-up an hour later and found his pretty kōhai sleeping on his neck; it took him a moment to register the scene, and Komi made him even more confused, because he was discreetly hiding his phone between the bus seats trying to take a picture. When the ace realized that it was his setter who was willingly sleeping on him, he gave a sleepy smile to himself and leaned his head back on top of the first year’s. Although Bokuto was normally an optimistic, morale-boosting guy, he had been in an even better mood lately—
All because of Akaashi.
What couldn’t Akaashi do for him? He had improved his hitting ability and confidence within a manner of weeks, he had successfully given Bokuto advice that lifted his spirits during one of his emo-modes, he had quickly tied Bokuto’s tie in school one day, right before the dean came strolling by, and he had even helped Bokuto study for one of his math tests—he still failed, and Akaashi was disappointed, but Bokuto was still proud of himself for studying at all, and even prouder of his setter for convincing him to study, if only for an hour.
Keiji had already improved his life so much, within such a short amount of time…and now, he was helping Bokuto out again by letting him be his bus pillow.
Bokuto didn’t know that Akaashi thought of him so highly and respectably and…crushingly.
But he would very soon.
As Akaashi dreamt of volleyballs and a particular great-horned owl, he thought of a question he forgotten to get an answer for three months earlier.
I wonder how long it will take for Bokuto-senpai to stop having mood swings…