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Shouyou takes in a deep breath, the nostalgic smell of damp leaves and decaying wood filling his lungs. He walks further down the path, deeper into the heart of the forest.
“Isn’t it pretty?” he asks, looking up at the red and orange foliage overhead.
Caveman that he is, Kageyama just grunts.
Shouyou looks over his shoulder with a frown. “You really only have space in your brain for volleyball, don’t you?”
Kageyama rolls his eyes. “It’s ... pretty,” he says, very unconvincing.
Shouyou pinches the bridge of his nose. “If you could say it like you’re not being held at gunpoint, maybe then I’d believe you.”
Kageyama glares at him, lips shut tight, so Shouyou looks back towards the trail. Despite Kageyama’s tepid response, an eager excitement runs through his veins.
Living in the mountains has its downsides—like having to bike 10 kilometers to school—but one perk is its accessibility to nature. Shouyou and his family have tread this loop hundreds of times; he knows it like the grooves of a volleyball.
He hasn’t taken it in a while, though. Between beach practice in Sendai and learning Portuguese online, he’d honestly forgotten about it. But then Kageyama had told him that he’s never been on a hike before and, well. Here they are.
“My mom always brought me here to get out some energy, but I think my dad used to hope I’d get eaten by a bear,” Shouyou says.
“Are there bears in Miyagi?” Kageyama asks, genuine.
Shouyou chuckles. “No, actually there aren’t.” But he feels justified in his claim nonetheless. His father was never—has never been—a family man, and Shouyou has always harbored a secret belief that he never wanted kids. No better way to get rid of the ones who he was stuck with than to bring them into the middle of the woods and set them loose.
But he’s not just going to spill his childhood trauma to Kageyama like that.
“Then why—” Kageyama starts, but Shouyou cuts him off.
“I didn’t really care why Mom or Dad brought me here,” Shouyou says, “because I always had fun regardless.”
Kageyama’s lips twist into a frown. “I don’t understand how walking in a big circle in the woods is fun.”
Shouyou pouts at him, exaggerated. “You’re not having fun with me, Kageyama-kun?”
Kageyama scowls at him. “Shut up, dumbass, that’s not what I meant.”
“So you are having fun?”
Kageyama’s scowl morphs into a grimace. Either way that he answers, he loses, and they both know it.
Shouyou, the benevolent man that he is, laughs, then drops it. “As for fun, I don’t remember what I did when I was really young—kids are entertained by the simplest of things, you know?” he says. “But once I got old enough to have friends over, Izumin and Kouji and I would venture out on our own and, like...” Shouyou wracked his brain for an answer—what did they do again before they all joined sports clubs in middle school?
He glances down at a fallen branch, and the gears click into place. “We would play games and stuff.” He picks up the branch, and it’s a bit bulkier than he expected; its full length had been obscured by the fallen leaves. Snapping it in half, Shouyou points the tip at Kageyama with a grin. “We loved acting like pirates.” Taking a step back, he swats his branch through the air, treating it like a sword. “Here,” he says, tossing the other half to Kageyama, who catches it easily. “Do your best pirate impression.”
Kageyama looks at the stick, then back to Shouyou, utterly puzzled. “Why?”
Shouyou quashes the urge to grab him by the shoulders and shake him like a maraca. “I’m showing you how seven year olds had fun! We’re playing pretend!”
Kageyama looks so, so lost.
“Ugh, fine, I’ll start!” Shouyou holds up his branch like a sword. “Arrrrrg! Me name’s Hinata, King of the Pirates and ruler these Seven Fair Seas, but don’t bother rememberin’ it—you won’t need to know once I kill ya dead!” He thrusts his arm out, poking Kageyama lightly on the sternum. “Kageyama-kun, you have to dodge!” Shouyou says, breaking character.
Kageyama steps back awkwardly. Shouyou nods. “Okay, your turn!”
Kageyama still seems confused, but he gets into a fighting position, knees bent, branch drawn. “Uhh,” he begins eloquently. “How dare you, um, board my ship...?” Shouyou nods harder in encouragement. “You will not get past me, you, um. Uhhhh. Scallywag.”
There’s a beat of silence before Shouyou bursts into laughter. He thinks that he hears Kageyama say don’t laugh at me, dumbass! but he’s too preoccupied with trying to not piss himself to respond.
“Oookay,” Shouyou says once he can breathe again, “one: scallywag? Of all terms, really?”
Kageyama scowls. “What else do I call you? Mr. Pirate?”
“Honestly, since it seemed like you were playing a nobleman, yes.” Kageyama’s pout deepens. “Two,” Shouyou continues, “fight me.”
“What—” Kageyama starts, but Shouyou lunges at him before he can finish, thrusting his branch at Kageyama’s neck. He dodges at the last second, swiveling to the right. Shouyou follows him, taking aim, but this time when he attacks, Kageyama parries with his own branch. Shouyou smiles.
“Whoever corners the other wins,” he says, circling Kageyama with his stick held in front of him. Because of course Kageyama can’t get into the creative aspect of playing pretend. Shouyou has to connect this experience to what Kageyama knows, and had forgotten the foundation of their bond: needless violence.
Kageyama looks down to Shouyou’s stick, then raises his own. “You’re on,” he says.
The battle begins. Shouyou charges at Kageyama, who avoids him by swerving behind a tree. They circle around the trunk for a few seconds—Kageyama’s eyes cold and calculating. Then he cuts sharply and attacks, forcing Shouyou to parry. After a moment of gridlock, Shouyou disengages, hopping off the trail and into the wilderness.
When Kageyama pauses, Shouyou gestures with a curled finger. “Don’t hold back, Scaredy-yama,” he taunts. Kageyama’s eyes flash before he’s on Shouyou, thrusting his branch towards his throat. With a snicker, Shouyou ducks out of the way then darts off into the thicket. He hears Kageyama following, only paces behind, and widens his gait.
“Hinata-boke,” Kageyama shouts, and Shouyou picks up speed. Usually he and Kageyama are neck-and-neck when it comes to racing, but Shouyou knows how to navigate the danger of slippery leaves and bumpy roots—Kageyama does not. He hears Kageyama trip and yelp at least three times, but Shouyou doesn’t look back, increasing the distance between them more important than teasing. (For now. He’ll be sure to rib him for his incompetence later.)
When Kageyama is at least forty yards behind, Shouyou ducks behind a large tree, standing as straight as a board. He peeks his head around the side every few seconds, keeping an eye on the furious caveman’s approach. Kageyama stops running about five yards away from where Shouyou’s hiding and frowns. He slowly turns his back to Shouyou as he pans his gaze around the forest, clearly on-guard.
Shouyou leaps out with a cry, bringing his branch down on Kageyama’s back. Kageyama stumbles forward, then whips around wildly. There’s a fire in his eyes that tells Shouyou he’s not making it out alive. Good thing Shouyou’s a psychopath who doesn’t fear the sweet embrace of death. He gazes back with equal intensity, then lunges again.
Instead of parrying, Kageyama attempts to dodge, and Shouyou’s branch smashes against his temple. The branch bends until it snaps.
Crack.
“Ow,” Kageyama says, hand coming to his face.
“Oh my God,” Shouyou says, stepping in closer. “Are you okay?” Kageyama’s eyes are a little distant—crossed, even, and Shouyou would find it kind of cute if he hadn’t just potentially concussed him.
Then, Kageyama glares at Shouyou and jabs him hard with his branch. Shouyou reels back, clutching his stomach. “Ow.”
They grin at each other, a touch manic. Shouyou straightens up, readying his stick. He starts circling Kageyama, who quickly follows.
For a few moments, the forest is silent, nothing but the crunch of leaves underfoot and the sound of their heaving breaths.
The stalemate is broken by Kageyama, who swipes at Shouyou with a shout. Shouyou jumps out of the way then swings back, their branches colliding with a thunk. Their scurried steps, clashing branches, labored grunts—it’s so familiar that Shouyou’s transported back to his childhood, his imagination taking the reins. The verdant landscape melts away into an open ocean, the muddy forest floor hardening into solid planks. They’re no longer holding tree branches, but metal swords—colliding with a shnk! Kageyama has an eyepatch, and when Shouyou looks down, he’s got a peg-leg.
Shouyou throws himself into his next attack like he’s spiking—jumping high and coming down on Kageyama from above. Kageyama steps to the left then knocks him with the flat of his blade; Shouyou stumbles as he lands, tripping over a mossy rock and hitting the dirt with a thud. Kageyama shoots towards him, and Shouyou rolls to the left—the sword coming down where his head had been.
Shouyou hooks his foot around Kageyama’s knee and tugs, disrupting his balance until he pitches forward. He goes down hard, and Shouyou doesn’t give him a second to recover, climbing on top of him and then sitting down. Kageyama tries to buck him off, but Shouyou clings to his shoulders, fingers digging into his shirt. Then Kageyama turns onto his back and grabs Shouyou’s wrists; with a sharp thrust of his hips, he knocks Shouyou off and then pins him to the ground.
Yanking a hand out of Kageyama’s grasp, Shouyou wraps his arm around Kageyama’s back and uses their momentum to roll them over again. When Kageyama hits the ground again, Shouyou sits down, clamping his thighs around his sides. Kayegama flails for a moment, trying to throw him off, but Shouyou’s legs act like an anchor, keeping him solidly in place. Then Shouyou leans down, pressing his branch firmly against Kageyama’s neck.
Kageyama goes still—stiff—underneath him. He swallows, and Shouyou can feel the bob of his Adam’s apple through the branch. Shouyou plants his forearm next to Kageyama’s head to lean in closer. When he doesn’t resist, frozen like a deer in the headlights, Shouyou smirks.
“I win,” he says, staring into Kageyama’s wide eyes. This close, Shouyou can see the light blue flecks scattered amongst his dark blue irises, like fresh flakes of snow against the night sky. Shouyou breathes out as Kageyama does the same, warmth mingling in the soft space between them.
It only then registers in Shouyou’s brain how close they are. Not only their faces—he’s also on top of Kageyama’s stomach, legs pressed flush to his sides. If he uncurled his fist next to Kageyama’s head, Shouyou would be able to touch his hair. He looks up at the glossy black strands, littered now with leaves and twigs and moss. Despite the mess, Shouyou’s sure that it would be soft—softer than his own unruly curls, at least.
He sees something in Kageyama’s visage shift out of the corner of his eye, so Shouyou looks back at his face. Kageyama’s eyes have drifted down, and it only takes a moment for Shouyou to piece together where they’ve landed. Shouyou licks his lips unconsciously, his own gaze falling to match.
For once, Kageyama’s lips aren’t drawn into a line or a pout, instead parted slightly as he breathes out through his mouth. They’re a little chapped, bitten cherry-red by the autumn air. Shouyou has never paid attention to them until now, but he can’t help but think that Kageyama has very nice lips.
His gaze flicks back up at the same time that Kageyama’s does. He has nice eyes, too.
The moment stretches on. Shouyou’s gut twists, the feeling somehow both pleasant and distressing. Kageyama takes a deep breath in, lips parting wider—
Shouyou pulls back before he can do something impulsive. He scrambles off Kageyama, dropping his stick as he shoots to his feet. Kageyama stares as Shouyou wipes the dirt off his knees, pointedly avoiding his gaze.
The forest is back in its woody glory. Trees block the afternoon sun overhead, but Shouyou feels like he’s been on the deck of a boat—so hot that sweat beads on his temple, dripping to his jaw.
Kageyama stands finally, eyeing Shouyou with an unreadable look. Shouyou swallows, gaze darting to the forest floor. His brain feels scrambled, fried, crisped like an egg. He opens his lips to speak, but can't seem to form any words.
For the first time in his life, Kageyama is the one to break the silence. He uses his branch to push Shouyou’s closer to him, then raises his arm. “Two out of three.”
It’s not a question, but it is a welcome invitation. Shouyou nods, grabbing his branch and wielding it properly. Kageyama attacks first, and his first blow shatters the remaining awkwardness between them.
Kageyama wins the next round; Shouyou wins the last. Nothing weird happens for the rest of the day, thank God. By the time that they’re done, the sun has begun to set, bathing the world in a golden glow, straight out of a fairytale. They head back home before it gets too dark, and when Shouyou remembers that his mom promised hot pot, their pace quickens.
Yet through the adrenaline and the bloodshed and the beauty, only two questions had whirled around in Shouyou’s mind the entire afternoon:
What the hell does ‘pretty lips’ even mean?
And who thinks that about their best friend?