#p: kagehina | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tinygumdrops · 6 months

Note

If you're taking prompts, might I request a meet-cute kagehina? In a coffee shop or convenience store? If not regardless I just want to let you know I'm big fan! Your fics pull me through whenever I'm in a dark place 🥺 Thank you and much love 💕💕💕💕💕

Gosh, hello anon!!!! I know it's been two years already and I'm not sure if you'll ever see this, but here you go!

You can also read it on ao3.

~O~

Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn Almost Summer

...

The store's door chimes ring at 12:15 in the morning. At the corner of his eye, Tobio spots a tuft of wild orange hair peeking out from the double-sided racks at the Hygiene section. He sets aside his textbook and gets up from his stool, waiting for the familiar stranger to show up at the counter.

In ten minutes, the man waltz towards the register and slides three packs of Salonpas with a five dollar bill. He has a nasty bruise blossoming under his left jaw, which moves like a taunt when he speaks in English, "No paper bag, please."

Tobio nods. He spares a glance at the man's shirt—a purple graphic tee with a screaming iguana in the middle—before scanning the purchases and giving him his change.

The man meets Tobio's eye before smiling widely. Under the bright fluorescent lights, his bruise appears almost as purple as his shirt. "Thanks. Have a good night!" he says and waves.

From the store windows, Tobio stares after the man's retreating figure and watches it get swallowed by the darkness of the midnight streets, before plopping back on his stool and opening his textbook again.

~O~

Tobio saw him again three more times before he realizes they live in the same neighborhood.

The first time, Tobio caught a glimpse of him locking his bike at the broken metal fences of a baptist church. Tobio had half a mind to warn the stranger that the next time he'll be seeing his bike, it's being sold for $145 in some shady ad website. But Tobio was running late for his 8 am statistics class, and the sky was ready to open up any minute—suddenly, it was too much of an effort to offer advice to someone who seemed too careless to heed them.

The second time, it was half past nine in the evening and Tobio was out for a quick jog. Somewhere in Madison street, Tobio ran past the careless, tangerine-haired oddball; the guy was crouching at the edge of the sidewalk in a yellow hoodie and denim shorts, stuffing himself with chicken tenders from Popeyes.

The third time happens today on a balmy afternoon, at the tail end of spring, at a dingy skating rink near Tobio's apartment. Tobio is waiting for his ten-year-old niece at the entrance when the man comes out of the door with a curly-haired toddler in tow. His distinctive hair bounces as he laughs at an unheard statement. Probably something the kid said.

Then, the man spots Tobio standing by the lamp post. Though his expression doesn't change, his eyes seem to cheerfully say, Oh, it's you again! The bruise under the man's jaw is almost healed, but this time around, he has a band-aid on the bridge of his nose.

Tobio fights back a flush and looks away, glaring insistently at the pavement.

~~O~

"Do you speak Japanese?" the man says the next time they meet. It's four in the morning, and they're at the convenience store again where Tobio works to make ends meet.

Tobio eyes him warily before replying "Yes" in his native tongue. He pats the mat over the counter with his palm.

The man grins. "Awesome." He places the bag of bean sprouts, bok choy and ramen on the counter. "I can speak English just fine, but I think I'm out of practice with my Japanese. I met a couple of Japanese folks the other day, but they don't speak the language very well."

Tobio doesn't know what to say to that, so he keeps silent.

The man is still smiling. His fringe is long enough to fall at the sides of his face, softening the sharpness of his cheekbones. "I'm Shouyou," he says. "Or, uhh, you can call me Hinata. Whichever you feel comfortable calling me."

Tobio nods and packs the goods in a black plastic bag. "That'll be fifteen eighty five."

The man forks out a twenty from his wallet. "Keep the change," he says, scooping the bag in his right arm. "It was nice meeting you—"

Tobio presses a handwritten note against the man's palm. "Go get a haircut, idiot."

~O~

Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn Summer

...

Tobio agrees to eat chilate de pollo with Hinata at the store's patio at around 3:40 am, a time he deems safest to leave the counter unattended. Outside, the humidity clings like a second skin, and the streets carry a faint scent of ammonia and rust—typical vestiges of summer rains in New York City.

Apparently, the chilate is too spicy for them to handle, but neither are willing to admit defeat and stop. Tobio fights off the heat with a small carton of milk, while Hinata arms himself with a bottle of cheap lemon juice.

"I can't believe I had to learn your name from your sister," Hinata says. He dumps a few tablespoons of rice in the remaining spicy chicken broth and mixes them together. "I like her. She was really nice."

"I guess she can be." Miwa did a good enough job with Hinata's haircut; it's less messy now and much shorter at the sides, allowing Tobio to see how much Hinata's ears have gone pink from the heat. Tobio supposes he has to thank her sometime later.

"What were you, uh—" Hinata sneezes. Tobio tosses a wad of napkins to him. "Er, sorry. What were you reading? Earlier, when I came in."

"Just a textbook. For school."

"You go to college?"

"Sometimes."

"What are you studying?"

"Math. Statistics."

Hinata mouths a 'wow'. After blowing his nose thrice, he comments, "That's pretty hardcore stuff."

Tobio shrugs. He takes classes at a community college from eight to five every Mondays, Thursdays and Fridays. Whenever he can, he sits in on the set theory classes after his shift during the weekends, but that's about it. Nothing fancy.

Hinata tilts his head towards the empty skies. His shirt collar shifts, revealing patches of Salonpas on the curve of his neck. "I really should start looking into college. Maybe the pay would be nicer if I get a degree or something." He scratches his ear. "You have any suggestions?"

"Why would you let other people decide for you? Why don't you think of something you're good at and choose that?"

Hinata tilts his head. "So you're good at Math?"

Tobio's parents were both professors in particle physics; he has to be. "It's my greatest strength," he declares, shoulders squared.

"Wow." Hinata grins. "Hmm. Wonder how I could start making money out of something I'm great at... I'm really short on cash lately."

Tobio gestures at the fading bruises on Hinata's face. "Getting into trouble seems to be a talent of yours."

Hinata's smile remains. "Yeah. This place takes some time to get used to. I guess I should have expected it. I'm in New York after all!" He then realizes something, "Woah. It's already four in the morning. Don't you have class later?"

"I do."

"But you're always working. Do you even sleep?"

Tobio blinks in surprise again. "I get enough."

"That's not—" Hinata frowns and shakes his head. He takes the chopsticks and empty plastic bowls and dumps them in the trash. "Sorry, don't mind me. I'll be heading out then."

Tobio licks his lips. "Okay."

"Say hi to Miwa-san for me!"

Tobio grunts.

For a brief moment, Hinata looks uncertain, but then he huffs out a chuckle and waves tinily at Tobio. Tobio nods once at Hinata retreating to the other side of the road.

After his replacement arrives at six in the morning, Tobio walks out the door when he spots a torn scrap of paper on the pavement. On instinct, Tobio picks it up.

Hinata had scribbled his phone number at the back of his receipt, perhaps at some point earlier this morning. Tobio discards it after memorizing it in one glance.

~O~

Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn Autumn

...

The winds bring a swathe of rotting sour gum and sassafras leaves on Tobio's doorstep, but he doesn't mind staying out an extra thirty minutes to clean them. This season, the air outside sometimes smells like burning candlewicks, and seeing the dark orange foliage in the mornings and afternoons brings him an odd sense of calm.

Autumn, overall, is an odd season for Tobio; it comprises of those unreasonably short, sublime weeks between the sheer heat of the summer and the exhausting cold of wintertime, and his defenses are down. He doesn't realize that he's been coursing through the streets distractedly all this time, searching for a face, until his shoulder collides with a man's chest.

"Son of a bitch," the stranger lashes out. "Watch where the fuck you're going."

Tobio nods, slightly embarrassed. "Sorry." He adjusts the straps of his bag and opts to take a shortcut in an alleyway at St. Felix, where he will harm less people with his absent-mindedness.

...

For this afternoon, only three out of the fifteen who signed up for the discrete structures class turned up; Tobio prefers sitting at the desk in the front row nearest the windows, but there's too many empty seats that he felt like he needed to sit at the center to make up for the sheer amount of space. He's about to leave the classroom when Mrs. Cunningham calls his name.

"You still haven't turned in your application, honey," Mrs. Cunningham says after he approached her desk. "I thought you said you were interested."

Tobio's eyes widen. "Oh, I didn't... I thought you were just letting me know they accepted transfers from out of state."

Mrs. Cunningham looks at him sternly. "It ain't just an announcement, Mr. Kageyama. It was an offer." She hands him a manila envelope. "Fill them up as soon as you can and I'll have Jimmy mail them ASAP."

Tobio slots the envelope under his armpit. He's about to take out his wallet when Mrs. Cunningham's sudden laugh stops him.

"Christ on a cherry, you don't have to spend a single cent on the processing fee. It's on the school's tab," Mrs. Cunningham says.

Tobio is too stunned to reply a proper thank you. He bows minutely and mutters, "See you on Thursday, Mrs. Cunningham."

"Yes, yes." Mrs. Cunningham adjusts her wire-rimmed glasses and ties her curly black hair. "And I sure hope I won't see you here again next fall."

~O~

Hinata, once again, turns up when Tobio least expects it. He's at the door of Tobio's department, holding out Tobio's take-out of poorly done Japanese food. He's wearing a loose, plain white shirt, jeans and a beanie, very un-Japanese like and very unfit for autumn weather.

"I guess I know where you live now," Hinata says. "Scared?"

"Like hell I am." Tobio takes the paper bag and narrows his eyes at it. "This better taste good."

"Wish I can hi-jack their kitchen when they aren't looking. Why add a bar of butter in curry?" He shudders as he pockets Tobio's payment. "It's really gross, I'm telling you."

Hinata's tendency to make off the cuff remarks will get him fired one of these days. "Thanks for that," Tobio says.

Hinata's eyes crinkle at the ends. "See you around, Kageyama."

Before he can walk away, Tobio calls out, "Hey, wait."

"Hmm?"

"When does your shift end?"

"My shift? Uhh, until nine, I think. Why?"

"Meet me at the park in Kingston. I'll wait there."

"Demanding, huh." Hinata shrugs. "Sure, I guess. But how—"

"I'll text you when I'm there."

Hinata's friendly expression turns slightly annoyed. "Text me when you're leaving so I can expect you, and I'll text you when I'm done."

"Alright."

Hinata shrugs again and, without another word, heads for the stairs. Tobio closes the door and immediately puts his long-delayed plan in action.

...

Tobio has done his research. There are around eighteen stores that sold Mexican food in Central Brooklyn, and three of them are close to Fulton and Nordstram. The past month, Tobio ordered chilate de pollo from stores that are within walking distance from Tobio's workplace, and judged the one at Brooklyn and Atlantic Avenue to be the most similar-tasting from the braised chicken Hinata bought for him last summer.

Tobio's plan is to take him there and make sure Hinata finishes a bowl of it. Tobio owes him for last time, and mathematically, this evens it out.

They're walking down Atlantic avenue when Tobio tells him this, and Hinata responds, "Huh. I guess that makes sense. Equivalent exchange, right? Like in that manga."

"What manga?"

"Oh. I guess you're not that type of guy." Hinata crosses his arms and wonders aloud, "Maybe I should have bought you a whopper or something. I'm kinda craving a burger right now."

Tobio purses his lips. "We'll go to Burger King if you're still hungry. You can buy me a whopper next time."

Hinata must think it's a good plan too for he agrees instantly.

The area has a good view of the autumn trees, and they take advantage of it by eating the bowl of chilate on the hood of an abandoned car at a gasoline station a block away.

Hinata's still hungry, so they head for the nearest Burger King. Tobio gets the questionable salad without the dressing, while Hinata orders a Whopper Cheese set with a large Fanta orange. Tobio pays for it all.

They eat without speaking for ten minutes until Hinata slides eight pamphlets across the table. "Uhh, hey. So you're a local, obviously. Do you have any suggestions?"

Tobio glances down. They're all enrolment brochures from community colleges in New York City. "This one's good, but the commute... you'll need to take the B train to Manhattan Beach." He points to another one. "This one's good, much closer. But it's expensive."

Hinata chews thoughtfully on his onion ring. "I'll go look for another side-gig then."

"It's not that easy to get a job around here, dumbass."

"Duh. I know that of course."

Tobio crosses his arms. "So?"

"What?"

"What are you planning to take?"

Hinata smirks. "Physical therapy, or maybe sports science." He flexes both of his arms proudly. "I actually have great upper body strength!"

Tobio can tell. "And what are you planning to do after?"

"Uhh, help a lot of people exercise, I guess...?"

"You should figure that out too."

Hinata grins and does a salute. "Gotcha."

Not knowing what else to say, Tobio opts to look at the large store windows instead, where he sees a cluster of teenagers in training gear dawdling outside, a pair of boxing gloves strewn over their shoulders. Hinata just laughs and continues munching on his burger.

They walk back to St. Andrew's park where Hinata left his bike. Most of the court lights are turned off, making it hard to see anything in the entryway shadowed by linden trees. But Hinata finds his bike easily enough and unravels the lock around the tire.

They pause at the stoplight in Fulton, and Hinata mounts his bike.

"You know, you should always ask first if people have plans before asking them out on dates. It's rude not to," Hinata says. "And I hate it when people tell me what to do. Boss me around again and you're in for a fight of a lifetime."

Tobio frowns. Logic dictates that Hinata is better off spending time with him than getting into scuffles with some random, but he'll consider that next time. "You owe me," he says gruffly.

Hinata scoffs, and once again, he gets swallowed by the shadows of the buildings as he pedals away. There's a twinge in Tobio's chest, and he takes the quiet sting with him for the rest of the night.

~O~

Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn Winter

...

Tobio gets fired from his job at the convenience store, but a retail outlet selling dodgy body jewelry and luxury brand ripoffs hires him a week later. His new workplace is a lot closer to his apartment so Tobio takes it as a blessing in disguise.

His co-workers are kind of nice, too. They're very friendly, especially Mrs. Rasmussen, who's a retired claims adjuster from Philadelphia, but they leave him alone when they see him arming himself with his laptop and his math textbook during lunch breaks. Dwayne and Chase, the younger guys in the group, can get a bit excessive with the dick jokes, but they clamp their mouths shut whenever Mrs. Rasmussen is in the room.

"Yo, Tobes." Dwayne lets out a stream of cackles from the adjacent register. "D'you see that?"

Tobio looks up from his phone. "Huh? What?"

Dwayne points at the convex security mirror. At the far end of the store, there's an old man in sweatpants trying to sneak a packet of hair gel in his hoodie before his eyes meet Tobio's. He then tries to awkwardly maneuver himself out of the store, his face flushing.

Dwayne laughs even harder. "Is that guy for real? Even I can cough up fifty cents for that shit."

Tobio stands up from his stool to stop the guy from leaving the store, but Dwayne waves a hand. "Nah, nah, lemme handle that loser," he says. "Gotta make this boring shift interesting at least."

As Dwayne heads out to confront the shoplifter, another customer carrying a paper bag from Burger King comes in. The man grins cheekily at Tobio while he approaches the counter, his red-orange hair almost bouncing in his delight.

"Hi there," Hinata greets. He jiggles the paper bag in front of Tobio's face, almost like a taunt.

Tobio narrows his eyes as he grabs the paper bag with a furious swipe. "Are you stalking me?" he demands.

Hinata rubs his nose. "I owe you, don't I?"

That is true, Tobio supposes, but he can't help but feel a little discomfited. His tongue feels gigantic and heavy in his mouth, and his throat is dry.

They face each other without saying anything for an awkward amount of time until Dwayne comes back. He takes stock of them for roughly five seconds before asking, "Jesus. You two gonna stand here all day or what?"

"Sorry, I'll head out now," Hinata says in English. "Nice seeing you again, Kageyama."

"What? No." Dwayne glares at Tobio and jerks his thumb up. "You too, good sir. Scram. Shimmy the fuck outta here."

"Our shift's not over yet."

"Yours is. I'm making it so." At Tobio's dumbfounded expression, Dwayne rolls his eyes. "Who the fuck's gonna come here for sequined underwear and cat piss candles at three in the afternoon? Charlie Sheen?" He grabs Tobio's backpack and pushes Tobio out of the counter. "Come on. Get your dick soaking wet for once."

Hinata chuckles softly at that, but his ears are distinctly red at the tips, which offers Tobio some relief. At least he's not the only one spectacularly mortified by this situation.

They stand at the storefront awkwardly for a few seconds until Hinata nudges his shoulder.

"What?" Tobio says rather sharply.

Hinata stares at him. "Anything you want to do?" he asks after a momentary pause.

Tobio tries to compose himself; he clenches and unclenches his fists. "Errands," he mutters. "I have shit to do."

"I don't," Hinata replies. "Can I tag along?"

Tobio shrugs.

...

Tobio runs through his list for the second time: cabbages, tofu, mushrooms, boneless chicken breasts, ground beef, olive oil, paprika, mirin, and toilet rolls. He also managed to pick up a gallon of fabric conditioner, which he only remembered he needed when he saw Hinata lurking at the household goods aisle. He ambles towards the cash register near the garments section when he spots a clearance rack full of neckties for $3 a piece.

"Are you looking for a suit?" Hinata suddenly says from behind him.

"N-no," Tobio mumbles, his cheeks warming. He coughs twice and stands straighter. "I don't need it right now."

"Yeah, maybe, but you will." Hinata crosses his arms and gestures at himself quite proudly. "I happen to know a thrift shop that sells a few nice sets, at a good price too!"

"Is that the place where you bought all your ridiculous shirts?"

"What did you say?"

Tobio eyes him. "I'll think about getting myself one, but only if you buy yourself a proper coat for once," he says, scoffing at Hinata's thin windbreaker and scruffy red scarf. "I get cold just looking at you."

"Whatever you say, gramps."

After they've finished putting the groceries back in Tobio's place, they walk to DeKalb and Bedford. The thrift store isn't as huge and varied as the ones in Downtown, but it's relatively inexpensive than the usual clothing shops Tobio frequents. It's a little disorganized with all the garish, rich people attire clogging up the entrance, but the second floor has a quality selection of well-pressed suits and evening dresses.

"Told you," Hinata says smugly when Tobio gets paralyzed by the immense number of choices in front of him. "Want me to help you choose?"

Not completely out of reluctance, Tobio begins perusing the clothes in the rotating hanger stand. "You dress like a ten-year-old on a field trip. I don't need your opinion."

"You're so rude, jeez. How have you survived being such a jerk for so long?" Hinata purses his lips. "I guess this city really is made for people like you."

"It is." Tobio flips through a series of ties. "And you're an asshole too," he adds, remembering how Hinata can disappear without a word for months on end.

Hinata pretends not to hear him. "Anyway, this place is awesome, right? My landlady told me about this. Her husband plays jazz music on weekends—he plays the sax, I think. Pretty cool, right? We can watch his band together if you aren't busy. They also have comedy night on Fridays if you're more into that. Also, my landlady says—wait a sec." Hinata picks out a dark blue tie with tiny, morning glory flowers. "Try this one, Kageyama."

Tobio nods and drapes it over his shoulder. He heads for the dressing room as Hinata prattles on about his landlady's sourdough donuts and how they're the best he's tasted.

There's an empty stall at the far end of the room. Tobio hangs the jacket and the pants before closing the door. It's rather cheap for a secondhand, tailor-fitted suit—Tobio always looks at the prices first before checking out the product—with just small, discreet stains at the hem of the pants. Nothing a bit of soda water can't fix.

Tobio doesn't bother looking at the mirror; he'll take this one since it isn't tight around his backside. He's about to undress when Hinata knocks on his stall.

"You should change," Hinata comments after one look at Tobio. "You look ugly and shabby in that."

"What? Why?"

"The blazer's too loose."

Tobio makes a face. "How would you know?"

"I have a sister." Hinata hands Tobio another suit made out of charcoal wool.

"I have a sister too, dumbass," Tobio grumbles. He starts taking off the coat and trousers, shivering almost instantly. It's cold in here.

Hinata helps him with the coat and tie, grinning widely when he steps back to inspect his handiwork. "Well, what do you know? It pains me to say, but you look amazing." He hums. "Wow. You have awesome thighs. Strong. I'm jealous. I wish I look like that."

"Shut up." Tobio allows himself a glance at the mirror. He has to admit, he doesn't look as bad as he expected. He feels a bit warm as he wiggles out of the suit and into his usual street clothes. "Alright. Your turn."

Hinata brandishes a long coat from a basket behind him, an audacious peacock blue with many pockets inside. "Tada! Already got myself one!" He laughs. "You take so long to change, old man."

Tobio's cheeks burn hotter as he marches down the stairs. Hinata trails behind him; this time, he's talking about his younger sister and her latest e-mails about wakeboarding in Florida. Tobio decides to give him the slightest indulgence by listening semi-attentively.

...

"You're not from here, aren't you?"

Hinata licks his lips before sipping on his smoothie. After burping loudly, he remarks, "Wow. How'd you figure that out?"

"Stop mocking me and answer the fucking question." Tobio takes a gigantic swig from his Peach Perfection. He hates peaches, and he hates Jamba Juice, and he hates how he can't tell what kind of situation he is in. Hinata is the most transparent-opaque person Tobio's ever met.

And the guy must find it fun irritating Tobio, for he takes his time chewing on his fake protein bar before replying. "I'm from Burlington, Vermont."

"Where's that?"

"I dunno. Somewhere above New York, maybe?"

Like Canada? That explains the relatively light clothing Hinata dons. "So why are you here?"

Hinata shrugs. "Seems like a good city to be in," he says. "No offense to my nana's place, but it's kinda dreary up there. There's hardly any sun. You really have to climb the mountains to get yourself some sunshine. All the way to the top, you know? It's super awesome—the view is just amazing! But sometimes you just gotta get out there and climb other places. See new things in a new place! You know? And I've always liked the idea of living in New York."

"And you chose Brooklyn?"

"I hopped along my friend who's driving to Montauk to see his online girlfriend, and his car broke down somewhere in Flushing. So I went out and asked around for any cheap single rooms but they didn't have any. They told me to move here, so I did."

This guy's a total lunatic. This shouldn't be a surprise, but the extent of Hinata Shouyou's insanity leaves Tobio feeling uneasy. "You—you didn't run away from home, did you?"

"I told them I wanted to live somewhere else, and they were cool with it. I guess Grandpops got a little mad though." Hinata cackles. "Ahh, he's so stingy, that old man! But I can tell he's happy to get postcards every month—he's a vet and I'm sure he misses writing to someone from time to time, even if he doesn't say it." Hinata starts stretching like a cat over the table. "I can't help but notice when we went back to your apartment... you don't live with your sister?"

Tobio takes the redirection in stride and answers promptly, "She wants to start her own business and a family. She can't do that while I'm there."

"Why not?"

Tobio shrugs. He knows his sister doesn't hate him, nor does he hold any animosity towards her. He can't explain it, but Tobio just finds it weird having her around in his place, even for just a brief moment. Miwa must feel the same.

"Any parents?"

"Both dead."

"Mine too." Hinata leans back against the plastic chair. "What are you planning to do after you finish school?"

Tobio tries to take a sip from his smoothie however there's nothing left but air. "Nothing yet."

"Really?"

The skin under Tobio's left eye twitches. "What?"

"No, uh. I just figured you already have something in mind."

"I'm keeping my options open," Tobio answers gruffly. There aren't a lot, if Tobio's being honest, but he's thinking about doing something about it. It's a bit hard to decide when Tobio feels he's still personally lacking.

"Right," Hinata says, slightly abashed. "I just thought—you seem like you know what you're doing most of the time. You know?"

"That's because I'm from here, you dimwit," Tobio points out. "If you were born here too you'd know your shit. All I have over you is experience. I'm not better than you. "

Hinata's eyes turn round and contemplative. "Huh," he mumbles.

"What?"

"Oh, uh. Nothing, nothing."

Hinata walks him home after the smoothie shop closes. Once again, Hinata fills in the silence as easily as rainwater in the street cracks—he talks about wanting to learn how to play an electric guitar, he talks about his friends at work, at the community college, at his home away from home. He mentions this guy named "Kenma" a lot. Childhood friend, it seems like.

When they arrive at Tobio's doorstep, a bitter, frosty wind blows, the chill seeping through Tobio's winter jacket. Snow is about to fall. Hinata has to get home soon.

Hinata inquires when Tobio brings out his house keys, "You have my number. Right?"

"Yeah." Tobio has all seven digits seared into his brain.

Hinata scratches his nape. "Thanks for your time. I feel bad for ambushing you earlier, so." He stuffs his hands in his pocket. "Text me if you... if you want to hang out or something."

"Okay."

Hinata smiles. "See you, Kageyema."

"Okay." Tobio waits for Hinata to slink back to the streets before closing the door.

~O~

They meet up almost every day after that. Tobio texts, and Hinata comes whenever he's free. They do whatever it is they think of at that moment: they eat out, pick up their clothes at a coin laundromat, skate at a local rink to see who's faster, serve noodle soup at a food bank where Hinata volunteers. A few times, they study together in Tobio's apartment. Hinata is absolutely horrendous at even basic math. Tobio wonders how he managed to graduate from high school.

Though Hinata is right about one thing: if there's anything he can be truly proud of, it's the complete control he has over his body. Tobio absolutely detests when they're at a playground and there aren't any kids around. It's December and there's a snowstorm coming according to the latest forecast, but Hinata will always do hurdles and cartwheels in nothing but a pair of cargo pants and a sweater. Tobio has no choice but to watch how Hinata's jaw and arm muscles will tighten before clamping himself at the high bars, at how he sneers at Tobio because Tobio can't do a handstand in this brutal weather, at how he easily climbs up a tall oak tree in record speed, his skin glistening in exertion.

The way he mumbles to himself whenever he thinks of something, his lips red and raw-looking. The way he laughs out loud because hanging upside down on a tree branch is fun.

Anyway.

Tobio doesn't know what's gotten into him. He must be bored out of his mind.

~O~

Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn Spring

...

He gets another e-mail from Mrs. Cunningham about university applications. Master's degrees. RA openings. Listings for jobs Tobio has never heard of. Scrolling down the list of attachments leaves him feeling out of breath.

Remember your fall term project last year? Mrs. Cunningham wrote. I noticed you've been keeping it up to date, which is excellent. I sent it to one of the professors I know in UMass.

"What in the..." Did she mean his blog? One of his classes with Mrs. Cunningham required them to keep an online journal on a topic of their choosing, and Tobio chose sports. He ran numbers on the Mets, Yankees, Rangers, Knicks—basically any team he can get his hands on their data.

Surprisingly, he has had some engagement even from his first posts—there were a lot of fans arguing in the comments section that Tobio had to disable it at some point as it was such a headache to skim through. Tobio doesn't deal with intangibles. He makes charts and runs simulations with hard data, and as far as Tobio is considered, numbers can only speak the truth.

Do you remember Prof. O'Neill? I've also attached their university's electronic application form. Forward it to me after you've finished, would you? I promise to look over it this weekend before we send it to their admissions office.

Tobio blanks for a moment, before scrambling to open his WordPress account.

1,722 profile visits? He frowns. His most popular post—J.R. Smith's 2013 playoff numbers in comparison with Carmelo Anthony's, which was riddled with passionate analyses and thinly-veiled racist verbiage in the comments section—has a new notification. With trepidation, Tobio opens it.

Hi, this is Sarina O'Neill. I believe we've met before in one of your classes; I was the guest lecturer invited by your professor, Genevieve. Please do e-mail me when you get the chance.

P.S. - You have a talent for wading through confusing data and stitching them together to prove your point, and your writing can be very unforgiving but nevertheless excellent. Have you considered a career in sports analytics?

Tobio closes his laptop slowly. "Shit," he mutters.

~O~

One day, Hinata basically coerces Tobio to buy a mirror in his apartment. Tobio knows he doesn't need one, and he personally dislikes inessential objects that break easily, but Hinata insists on having even a small one for "hygiene purposes". Which is a load of horseshit. He can tell if he has gunk stuck in his teeth just fine.

Right now they're at a shopping center, still arguing about the merits of getting one.

"I already know how my face looks like," Tobio gripes as he pays for the stupid thing.

"No, you absolutely don't," Hinata says irritably. He grabs the wall mirror wrapped in manila paper and gingerly presses it against his chest. "At least have something to guilt trip you into making yourself look nice. Jeez. I don't know if you're purposely making yourself appear less attractive or not."

"I don't give a fuck," Tobio says. One of the storekeepers is giving them the stink eye; he and Hinata are crowding the doorway. He takes Hinata's wrist and wrenches him out of the store.

They reach Fulton Park when Tobio is reminded of an encounter. He pulls them to a stop at one end of the bike path. "Is this about that girl in the diner?" he asks flatly.

Hinata chews on his inner cheek. "She was flirting with you."

Last Sunday, after Hinata got out of work, Tobio went out to meet him. They ate at Waffle House, and there was a girl who served them pecan waffles and hash browns. She had soft, curly black hair tied in complicated braids. She gave Tobio her number even though Tobio refused, and she smelled like peppermint. Tobio can recall clearly how Hinata had been distracted for the rest of the evening. "So?"

Hinata's eyes flash. "'So'?" he mocks.

"I am going to fucking murder you. Spit it out. I don't have the entire day."

Hinata inhales deeply. "I wasn't expecting that to happen," he admits. "The flirting thing."

"What the hell are you trying to say?"

"What I'm saying is it's strange. That I wasn't expecting it. I should have, obviously."

Tobio gapes at Hinata in bewilderment. "What?" he shouts. "Are you fucking serious?"

"I'm surprised it was just one time!" Hinata explains. "And it should've happened, like, way before. I mean, we've been going out a lot recently, and I thought... people propositioning you—it should have been more than once already. It's weird that it was just one girl we met so far. There should've already been tens. Hundreds!"

"You want more girls flirting with me?"

"Yeah."

The stab of hurt that comes afterward is intense, crippling, and completely unexpected. Tobio feels poleaxed. "What in the—what the fuck did you just say?"

"Girls find you attractive," Hinata says plainly. "And they should. Guys too, obviously—"

"No, shut up! Stop talking about—"

"—but I think they do already. There was that dude at the gas station... It's weird if they don't think you're good-looking—"

Tobio marches forward to close the distance between them. He grabs Hinata by the shoulders and pins him against the tall metal fences. "You think that's weird?" Tobio says. "What's fucking weird is you want total strangers to hit on me all the time, you sack of shit. Are you a pervert?"

"Can you stop putting words into my mouth for a second?" Hinata fires back. "Do you remember what I told you? About what I hate the most?"

"People telling you to do shit."

This must be the first time Tobio sees Hinata like this, his face devoid of cheer and good humor. Hinata places a palm over Tobio's wrist. It's angry and searing, like a brand. "I don't like holding myself back." He shakes of Tobio's grasp. "And I'd prefer it if people by my side would do the same."

"I don't know what the fuck you're getting at," Tobio says. "Say it plainly, Hinata."

"You're smart. You're tall. You're good-looking. You can be kind when you feel like it," Hinata says angrily. "All of that—I want more people to know that about you."

Tobio's fingers curl up. He badly wants to smash Hinata's teeth in. The inane shit that comes out of his stupid mouth...

"You're out of your goddamn mind," Tobio declares, before grabbing the front of Hinata's jacket and kissing him.

As far as first kisses go, Tobio thinks it's pretty non-standard—Hinata still carries that faint scent of athletic gear in his clothes and his lips are as dry as leather, and underneath his hoodie Tobio is also sweating buckets. But it's very telling that Tobio enjoyed it all the same; they have now traded blows, a declaration of war of some sorts.

If Hinata does the disappearing act again, Tobio now has an excuse to go after him, even if he has to turn over the entire city of New York.

"Stop talking about me with other people," Tobio says. "It's irritating."

"You don't get to tell me what to do." Hinata's mouth shivers into almost a grin, and Tobio has to kiss him again to stop it from coming back in full force.

...

(Tobio's parents had died in a manner a cop once described as "a scene from a bootlegged version of The Batman". It involved an unlit street in East Village, a couple held at gunpoint, and an obscene amount of blood.

Except Mr. and Mrs. Kageyama weren't as filthy rich as the Waynes and the Kanes were. Tobio had to sit down and calculate how much he could live off from the trust fund his parents had set up for him, and at sixteen, Tobio quite knew how the numbers weren't in his favor.

A day before the funeral, Miwa flew in from where she wasy staying in Wisconsin. She had her two-year-old daughter, Yuriko, by her side, who was staring at Tobio with wide interest ever since she met him.

"I'm sorry," Miwa said tearfully. The apology could've meant a lot of things, but at that time Tobio understood it as, I'm sorry, I can't take care of you all by myself right now.

Tobio shook his head. "You don't have to be," he replied. "I'll be fine."

But it was hard to keep promises when you're poor and an orphaned sixyeen-year-old. The police and social services were useless, as usual, and for Tobio, surviving alone in a city as cold as a jail cell had robbed him of any innocence he had left. As they all say in Flatbush—"petty crimes maketh man". And because life has a certain way of doing math, eventually Tobio got arrested a day before he turned eighteen.

Community service, rehab, and eight months of therapy. Sometimes, when Tobio was forced to ponder his situtation, he thought about how it didn't add up. How his parents were dead, and how their killers stayed alive somewhere. And why was Tobio alive with them, when all this time he had secretly hoped he'd run into them, in the dark alley with no witnesses, and let vengance rear its ugly head? It didn't make sense.

He told his therapist this on their last meeting, when he felt he owed it to her to be completely honest, and she replied, "It's funny, how we equate the life of one person to another. Is it because it's simpler to think that way?" She smiled. "Your parents' lives aren't equal to those who murdered them, the same way your life isn't equal to theirs. You're smart, Tobio. You know math doesn't work that way."

"I don't know anything anymore," Tobio replied honestly.

She handed him a pamphlet of a public high school in Bushwick. "Then why don't you try learning again?"

It was a first time in a while Tobio felt like he had a choice. Slowly, he took the lifeline, and imagined his parents chastising him for trying to hold out on his own for so long. His smile was wobbly as he held back his tears.)

~O~

Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn Spring

...

Hinata never seems to have any problems asking Tobio about personal things point-blank, except for those years he spent living in Manhattan. Hinata doesn't seem interested, anway. In turn, Tobio doesn't ask anything about Hinata's parents, or why he has a lot of bruises on his knees and elbows, or why he seems to know every single rock climbing gym in Brooklyn. It's a fair exchange.

And maybe that's enough for him.

"You should stay here," Tobio says after a long night of debating with Hinata about the pros and cons of moving to another state. Who knew Hinata had strong opinions about 'following one's dreams'?

Hinata, still royally pissed at him, replies with a curt, "I agreed to stay the night."

"No," Tobio says. "I meant permanently this time."

A long silence follows. Then, Hinata wrinkles his nose. "What? Like live with you?"

"You have a problem with that?"

"Obviously no," Hinata says. "Just thought you're the kind who needs space."

"I do," Tobio says. "But we can split the rent. 50-50. Or 60-40. Whatever we agree on."

"You, agreeing with me?" Hinata is looking at him completely now, clear brown eyes on cagey blue ones. "Kageyama, do you want to argue about rent with me?" he asks. "Even until late at night?"

Once again, someone is handing him a lifeline. Tobio sighs. "And about other stuff too," he admits, almost in a whisper.

"And about other stuff, huh," Hinata murmurs. He stares up at the ceiling contemplatively before slowly brightening. "Well, I do like your sofa. And your microwave. It has a lot of buttons."

"Miwa-san bought that for me."

"Ahh, of course it was Miwa-san...." Hinata smiles. "Can we have a cat in here?"

Tobio shrugs. "I don't like cats so you take care of it," he says. "If it pisses on our bed I'll throw it out."

"That's what they all say at the start!" Hinata sing-songs.

~O~

Bedford-Stuyvesant, Brooklyn Winter

...

Dwayne has been hovering around Tobio since their shift began, so he isn't surprised when Dwayne finally manages to blurt it out once they are all alone in the store. "I don't think I'm misreading nothing, so... are you, y'know, like." He stops. "You and that other Japanese guy... Do you...?"

Tobio gets what Dwayne's hinting at. A little grateful, Tobio tries to talk using his language, "Yes. I like dicks."

Dwayne gawks at him before laughing incredulously. "Jesus Christ, okay. Okay, okay. The fuck, I was worked up for nothing..." His shoulders sag in obvious relief. "Just dicks? Exclusively?"

"I'm not sure." Tobio's never had anyone's attractiveness hit him like a sack of bricks, until he saw Hinata for the first time in the convenience store, a pack of seaweed flakes tucked under his arm.

Dwayne flops his legs on the counter. "Well, I hafta say I know where you're coming from."

"You do?"

"Hey, man, fuck you," Dwayne says. "Look, I can appreciate people. My girl's a ten, but your guy seems tight as fuck too. Objectively speaking. Way better than that bald ass bitch my brother is seeing."

Tobio nods minutely. He kind of understands, somewhat.

Dwayne then regales him about the time his older brother got epically dumped a day after Valentines Day, and Dwayne and his pals in the theater club took him to a dive bar at Tompkins so he could drink and puke his brains out in a gutter. But after thirty minutes of talking, Dwayne stops shortly and then curses.

"Motherfuck, hold on. I'm going about this all wrong." Dwayne wipes his face with his palm. "I ain't saying I'm wishing you heartbreak, Tobio, but yeah. Whatever or whenever, I got you."

Tobio scratches his nape. "Um, thank you very much."

Before their shift ends, Dwayne hands him a box of Trojan condoms, and that's when Tobio realizes Dwayne knows it's Tobio's birthday today.

~O~

"He's cute," Miwa says in lieu of a proper start of a converstation, and Tobio knows exactly who she's talking about.

Tobio reddens, and is horrified to find the kind of face he's making in his reflection. He fights off the urge to fidget on his stool. "Thought he was your type," Tobio mutters unwillingly.

"Well, we have the same type, my baby brother. I guess it's in the family," Miwa clarifies. She takes the end of Tobio's overgrown fringe and snips it off cleanly. "As soon as I realized Hinata-san was asking about you, I just knew. 'Ahh, my brother is getting whisked away. Game over'. I do appreciate that you tried to set us up—he and Yuriko-chan would've gotten along."

Tobio grimaces. "You're awful."

Miwa places a hand on her hips, scissors dangling precariously on her fingers. "And this is the thanks I get, hmm? For not scaring him off and telling him how much of an ass you can be?" She tuts. "He seems to have a lot on his mind, though, when he first came here. Is he okay?"

Tobio licks his lips. He doesn't know the answer to that, but what he can say is this: "I'll... I'll make him better."

Miwa laughs in surprise. "Hmm. Interesting," she says. "Sure haven't heard you talk like that for a long time, Tobio."

"Like what?"

"Like a smug bastard." Miwa tilts Tobio's jaw with a delicate finger. "Hold your chin up a little higher, okay?"

Tobio sniffs but does as he's told.

~O~

Koreatown, Manhattan Autumn

...

Smoke coming from the gas-flame grill of samgyupsal places around 32nd street almost covers the night sky. It's hard to choose where to eat in the stacks of restaurants on top of other restaurants, and Tobio and Hinata have to fight amongst the crowd so as not to lose sight of each other. They seem to have come at a wrong time; Koreans are celebrating their own Thanksgiving, and everyone is scrambling for either a fine-dining spot or a homey place that serves classic braised pork and pan-fried perilla leaves.

"Let's just go somewhere else," Hinata says after another half-hour. His defiant expression from earlier has already deflated from hunger.

Tobio sighs. "If only you just listened to me—"

"Yeah, yeah..." Hinata grabs Tobio's wrist and pulls him out of one of the restaurant lines.

They settle with eating dinner at a nearby rice cake stand, a far cry from what Hinata envisioned the evening would go. "I just wanted us to eat somewhere nice for once," Hinata grumbles, wiping red sauce from his lips with the back of his hand. "Was that so much to ask?"

"There are a lot of nice places in Brooklyn."

"Sure, but it's the view, Kageyama! The view!" He waves at the full moon and the city skyline. The Empire State Building seems close enough to touch, if Tobio squints the right way. "Can't get any more 'New York' than that!"

Tobio snorts but doesn't argue.

It's nine in the evening on a Friday; it's still a bit early. Tobio and Hinata explore the lively neighborhood watching the people around them and secretly each other. The road is slightly cold and damp from the afternoon rain, and the smell of chili pepper and garlic wafting from the opposite street reminds Tobio of his mother, and the beef stew she makes during his birthday.

Abruptly, Tobio remembers that it's been an entire month since Hinata's birthday has passed. They weren't able to celebrate it together, not with Tobio staying in Masachussets for university and Hinata working full-time as a professional fitness trainer.

"I'll cook dinner tomorrow," Tobio offers. He's twenty-five now. He can afford to make a promise or two.

Hinata bounces on his heels. "I'll hold you to that, Kageyama," he says, much enthused.

They're at a crossing between 5th and 30th street when Hinata sees his shoelaces are untied. He stoops down to tie them back while Tobio forges ahead.

When Tobio notices that he's far along the lane by himself, he jerkily looks back and finds that Hinata hasn't moved an inch. "What the hell are you doing?" Tobio shouts.

Hinata is grinning from ear to ear. Under the streetlights, it's an unnerving expression to see. Almost scary. "I'm going to conquer this city!" he says. "Someday! Just wait for it, okay?"

Tobio doesn't know the reason behind that sudden declaration, but something in Hinata's face makes Tobio feel compelled to believe him. "Hurry up, then!" Tobio says.

Hinata laughs before jogging along the pedestrian lane.

~O~

Amherst, Massachusetts Spring

...

Back in his apartment, Tobio is flipping through TV channels when a headline about New York City catches his eye. Next Level Crazy: Man Climbs Empire State Building Without Any Ropes.

What in the world? Tobio wonders, munching on a breadstick. Someone has to be a special brand of idiot to attempt that.

A blond man in a beanie is being interviewed, and he seems to agree with Tobio, "Yeah, I've spoken to him. Trained with him too on weekends. To anyone, he might seem like just a normal guy, but there's gotta be a few loose screws up there... for someone to attempt to scale a massive building like that—"

Without thinking, Tobio is on his feet, his plate of spaghetti spilling all over his feet, on the carpet. On his screen is a live video feed of a frighteningly familiar figure with fiery, red-orange hair, climbing the Empire State Building with his bare hands.

Tobio drops his breadstick. "That dumbass—"

~Fin~

#ask #anonymous #my writing

6 notes · View notes

pearlsephoni · 1 year

Text

At the End of the Sun, Chapter 1

Can also be read on AO3!

Rating: This Chapter: T; Whole Work: E

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: Kagehina (Kageyama/Hinata)

Characters: Shoyo Hinata, Tobio Kageyama, Natsu Hinata, Mama Hinata, Ittetsu Takeda, brief cameos from Yamaguchi and Tsukishima

Word Count: 5.2k

Summary: It‘s an easy trade for Shoyo Hinata, if a little strange: a year living with a talking wolf in exchange for the plants that would save his sister’s life. He expects a new home and friend. What he finds is a cursed heir, a vengeful sorcerer, an act of betrayal, and a dangerous quest. But the most surprising discovery of all? The love of his life.

A/N: Written for the @kagehinabigbang! Special thanks to my beta, Lin, and my artist, Fish!! Further author’s notes can be read on AO3.

He was in the woods of his childhood, surrounded by papery birch trees with thin moss creeping over their roots. The dirt beneath his feet smelled and felt familiar, as did his father’s old hunting bow; the flexible bamboo was smooth in his hands as he crept along the forest floor.

He couldn’t remember why he was there. He never could. But then, like always, he saw a familiar silhouette flitting between the trees ahead of him, dashing across the path like a ghost, with a swiftness that contrasted the sound of sturdy steps. Shoyo didn’t focus on that. The relief he felt at recognizing those steps overwhelmed anything else he noticed.

“Dad?” he whispered, never yelled—that was the single best way to cut a hunting trip short, and if he was holding his father’s bow, then surely he was hunting. They were both hunting. “Dad, wait up!”

His body instinctively fell into a stance that allowed him to move through the underbrush in silence, chasing the black form like a shadow. “Dad!” His father didn’t stop. Why wouldn’t he stop?

The sturdy steps eventually fell quiet, and he approached the shape from behind, straightening out of his hunting stance to hold out the bow. “Dad, you forgot this! Why’d you—?”

In a flash of motion, the silhouette turned and pinned him under a dark, piercing gaze, freezing him in place. In a flash of clarity, he realized the figure he’d been chasing wasn’t his father. It was some sort of creature, hazy in form except for those sharp eyes. Suddenly, he was the hunted, not the hunter, unable to move as those eyes got closer…and closer…

“Hinata!”

Shoyo jolted awake just in time to receive a faceful of his yukata. “Spirits, what?” he grouched, pushing himself upright and blinking blearily.

“Wake up already! Takeda-sensei’s gonna be here soon.”

Shoyo finally found the speaker—his assailant, his mind supplied grumpily—and frowned at Yamaguchi as he dragged his fingers through his mussed ginger hair. “How are you up before me?”

“Dunno.” The effect of Yamaguchi’s casual shrug was ruined by his smug smile, though it quickly melted into a worried frown. “Were you having that dream again? You kept twitching around in your sleep.”

“I dunno how, but you made that sound perverted.” Oh, perfect, Tsukishima was already awake, too. Why were they both awake before sunrise?

“Gross, Tsukki! Don’t project your dirty mind onto me!”

“Oh? Thought you liked my ‘dirty mind’—”

“Okay!” Shoyo cried out, scrambling out of his blankets in a burst of panicked energy. “Okay, I’m up! Stop talking, Tsukishima!”

“Works like a charm,” Tsukishima sniffed with a satisfied grin, a sharp contrast to Yamaguchi’s beet-red face.

There was a certain routine to returning to the Kageyama clan’s domain after escorting the daimyo from his year-long pilgrimage in Edo. Usually the samurai were given a few days to get settled back in, filling their time with cleaning, unpacking, spoiling their horses, and, in Yamaguchi’s case, recultivating gardens. In between chores were the usual training, Shoyo’s favorite part, and studying, his least favorite part.

But this time, he didn’t have a few days. He only had two, and those days felt like they’d gone in a blink, leaving him a little frantic as he finished packing the last few things. He’d just finished saddling up his horse when he heard a hesitant, “Pardon the intrusion.”

“Oh! Morning, sensei!” Shoyo bent into a deep bow as the healer of the daimyo, Ittetsu Takeda, carefully brought his horse to stand next to Shoyo’s.

Takeda took one look at his face before bursting into laughter. “Oh no, Shoyo-kun,” he laughed, “did the homecoming chores take all your time?”

“Yeah,” Shoyo sighed, swinging himself into his saddle. “I only got to spar a little with Yamaguchi.”

“Well, we’ll just have to make sure this visit is worth you missing out on training.”

The glint in Takeda’s eye made Shoyo straighten with a small grin and a determined set to his brows. “It’ll be worth it. It always is.”

The healer shot him a knowing, fond grin, before nudging his horse and riding off.

The sky was still a gauzy purple as they left the palace grounds. The journey to the outskirts of the domain’s capital could take an entire day on an efficient trip, with an overnight stop sometimes being required partway through. If Shoyo had been riding with anyone else, anyone on their first journey, he was sure the trip would’ve taken well over a day.

But he was traveling with Takeda, who had made the same trip back and forth countless times. With their combined experience, they arrived at their destination as the late afternoon sun fell lower in the sky.

They dismounted at the opening in a barrier of wood surrounding a sprawling yard with a house at the center. It looked large, though it served as a healer’s clinic as much as a home. Only a few yards separated the property from the thick cluster of trees that was the forest nearby. The shadowy branches and hidden paths looked intimidating, but it was also a perfect place to hunt and a prime hiding spot for a game of hide and seek.

“Hinata-kun?”

Shoyo jolted and looked over at Takeda, who was watching him with a gentle smile. It was only then that he realized his eyes had started stinging with tears. “Ah…sorry,” he murmured, rubbing a firm hand over his eyes. “It’s just…”

“It’s your home. Anyone would be excited to return, especially after a year.”

Gratitude warmed Shoyo’s chest and spread into a smile. “Yeah…I am.”

Home. He was home.

The familiarity of tying his horse just inside the barrier, making sure it had some food and water, and walking up the path to the house helped ease the nostalgic lump in Shoyo’s throat, and by the time he and Takeda were standing on the engawa, he had an eager grin tugging at his lips.

“Hinata-chan!” Takeda called, gently knocking at the wooden frame. “It’s Takeda!”

Shoyo could hear familiar footsteps hurrying through the house, before the front shoji screen slid open. “Ah, welcome Take— Shoyo!”

Takeda was momentarily forgotten as Shoyo’s mother wrapped her son in a warm hug. Shoyo could only laugh and move with her rocks back and forth. “Hi, Mom.”

“How are you here? When did you return from Edo? And Take-kun, you sneak! You didn’t tell me you’d be bringing Shoyo!”

“I’m sorry!” Takeda laughed, raising his hands in a gesture of innocence. “I wasn’t sure he’d be able to come, so I didn’t want to get your hopes up. But here he is!”

“Here he is,” Shoyo’s mother echoed softly, gazing at her son with adoration. Her dark hair was swept back in a bun, with a few strands falling loose around her ears and face. Even though he was used to seeing her a bit weary—it was practically a requirement of being a healer, especially the best healer in the domain’s capital—and even though she was glowing with happy surprise, Shoyo noticed the dark circles around her warm eyes and the sharper lines of her face. But before he could ask her anything, she was pulling away with a kiss to his forehead. “Well, come in, come in, you need to eat after your long journey.”

“Ah, I thought we might discuss the patient you’d written to me about—”

“Nonsense, Take-kun. A year in Edo hasn’t changed what Shoyo looks like when he’s hungry.”

Shoyo flushed to the sound of both mother and family friend laughing. “Well, then…thank you, Hinata-chan.”

Shoyo waited to follow Takeda into the house, falling back on his training despite being at his childhood home. But no amount of protocol could keep him from relaxing with a smile as he breathed in the familiar scent and took in the familiar view of his home.

By far the worst part of the mandated year-long stays in Edo was the distance from his family. He didn’t live with them, and his duties as a samurai kept him from visiting more than a few times a month. But his mother was stubborn about living at the outskirts of the capital, where she would be more accessible to the general populace, instead of in the fancier properties offered to the families of samurai.

Shoyo didn’t mind—he was as proud of his mother’s work as a healer as he was of his late father’s work as a samurai, and the fact she was able to live where she wanted spoke volumes to both her skill as a healer and the respect and love in her marriage.

There was just one thing missing, something that pricked at Shoyo through lunch and distracted him from Takeda and his mother catching up. It didn’t take long for his mother to notice his distraction. “Shoyo? Is everything alright?”

“Ah! Yeah, sorry, just…where’s Natsu?” Usually his little sister would’ve leapt into his arms the moment she heard their mother say his name, clinging to him like a monkey to a tree. It was how she always greeted him, even as a teenager, a routine so familiar that their mother had started calling her “little monkey.” It felt wrong, stepping into the house without having to wrestle her back to the ground.

Shoyo wasn’t sure what he expected his mother’s answer to be. Maybe Natsu was still out hunting, or was gathering some herbs, or back in town to pick up some supplies. Whatever Shoyo expected, it certainly wasn’t the sight of his mother’s face growing pale. “…Mom?”

“Natsu is…” She set her chopsticks down with a care that made Shoyo’s begin to shake in his hand. “She’s sleeping. She…she hasn’t been well.”

Dread spread cold through Shoyo. “Natsu hates naps.”

“She does. But lately, she hasn’t been able to get through the day without the extra rest, and when she is up, she can barely make it out of the house.” As Shoyo’s mother spoke, her focus moved from Shoyo to Takeda, turning his dread to ice as understanding began to set in. “She’s always out of breath and she tells me that it feels like her chest is stretched too tight and won’t let her fill it with enough air. Any time she tries—”

“—she ends up coughing so hard and for so long, you worry she might draw blood,” Takeda finished with a grave look, confirming Shoyo’s nervous suspicions. “She’s the patient you wrote to me about.”

Her lips quivered around a choked-back sob as she nodded. It took a deep, steadying breath for her to speak again. “Nothing I’ve tried has worked. I was…I was hoping you may have heard something in Edo that could help. I know it’s a long shot, and I’m sorry you had to make the trip, but—”

“Nonsense, don’t apologize,” Takeda gently interrupted. “The trip is nothing, especially if it’s to help your family.”

This time, she couldn’t stop a sob from escaping her as she clutched at one of Takeda’s hands with both of hers. “Thank you, Takeda. Thank you so much.”

“Of course. After lunch, may I see her? Checking her condition in person would help greatly, and, well…” A small, rueful smile curved Takeda’s lips. “I’d like to say hello.”

Shoyo’s mother offered a wavering smile, before spooning more meat into Takeda and Shoyo’s bowls.

The rest of lunch passed in a blur for Shoyo, lost in the news as his mother and Takeda’s quiet exchange of ideas faded into the background for him. Natsu—bright, happy, restless Natsu—being bedridden from sheer exhaustion…it didn’t feel real. It would probably continue to not feel real until he saw her for himself, but that just made him feel a sense of foreboding that weighed heavier and heavier as their bowls emptied and were eventually cleared from the table.

It was strange, seeing his mother leave the dirty dishes in the kitchen wash basin instead of cleaning them immediately. It added another detail to the picture of suppressed anxiety that was becoming clearer to him now that he knew Natsu was sick. He didn’t say anything when he saw her pause to lean on the basin with a white-knuckled grip, just hooked his arm through hers and rested his head on her shoulder.

The close proximity let him feel the shuddering breath she took before pressing a kiss to his hair and patting his cheek. “C’mon,” she whispered, untangling their arms and giving his hand a squeeze, “let me take you to her. She’ll be so excited to see you.”

The familiar walk to the room he and Natsu used to share felt off-center, thrown off-balance by the rock of dread settled in his stomach. He had to take a moment to steady his own breath before he slid the shoji screen open and let himself and Takeda inside.

There, curled up in a futon under a worn scrap of fabric he recognized as her old safety blanket, was Natsu. Her bright hair was the only part of her that was visible, peeking out from under her blanket. The sight brought a smile to Shoyo’s lips—she could argue endlessly that she wasn’t “little” anymore, but that would never stop her from being his baby sister.

“Go ahead,” Takeda murmured behind him with a pat on the shoulder. “Say hi.”

“Thanks, sensei.” Shoyo crept carefully across the tatami mats until he could crouch by the futon and lean over the shock of ginger hair. “Hey, Natchan.”

“Mm…” Natsu turned away, her face poking out from the blanket to better burrow into her pillow, as if she could physically block out Shoyo’s voice.

“Natsuuuuuu.”

“Hnnng, whaaaat?” she whined, finally turning back towards him and slowly blinking open her eyes. Annoyance was etched across her sleepy features, probably out of muscle memory more than anything—Shoyo had always had the unique displeasure of waking up Natsu when he still lived at home.

He waited patiently for her mind to catch up with her eyes. Sure enough, after an extra few beats, her eyes widened and she shot upright with a gasped, “Nii-chan!”

She lunged forward and wrapped her arms right around his shoulders, which were shaking from his laughter. “Hey, woah, careful,” he warned her, bracing himself on one hand to keep them from tumbling to the floor.

“What’re you doing here?” Shoyo could already hear the threat of a cough under her words, and he smoothed his hand up and down her back in a silent reminder to calm down. It worked, but not without a few choked-back coughs.

He shoved aside the worry pricking at him to focus on the joy of their reunion. “Oh, I’m here to arrest you.”

“No, you’re not!”

“I am, for the crime of not writing enough letters.”

“Nii-chaaaaan,” Natsu whined, burying her face in his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I really did try to write more this time.”

“Uh-huh, sure you did.”

“Don’t be mean to me!” she grouched, pulling away to pout at him, “I’m—!”

Her words choked off as panic fell over her face, before her eyes fell on Takeda hovering behind Shoyo and dread replaced her panic. “Oh. Hi, Takeda-sensei.”

“Hey, don’t sound so sad to see him,” Shoyo scolded quietly.

“It’s alright,” Takeda said with a soft laugh, “I think she knows why I’m here. I’d ask you how you’ve been, Natsu-chan, but your mother already told us.”

“Yeah…” Natsu’s eyes flickered from Takeda to Shoyo and back again. “Is…is that why you’re here, Nii-chan?”

“I’m here because sensei said he was visiting, and I wanted to come see you and mom. That’s all.”

Natsu stared hard at him, clearly looking for something in his expression, and he stared back, letting his face be as open and honest as he could without betraying his worry. Eventually she sighed and nodded, wilting in his arms to rest her head on his shoulder. It reminded Shoyo so much of the times she fell asleep on his shoulder in the middle of housework when they were much younger.

That, more than hearing the news from their mother nor seeing how pale and weak she looked now, made her illness fully sink in for him. His eyes stung as he hugged her close, noting the sharper lines of her bones bumping his fingers even through her yukata.

“Shoyo-kun.”

The soft call of his name jerked him out of his growing despair. “Yes, sensei?”

“I’m sorry to cut your greetings short, but may I have a moment to check over Natsu? The sooner I do so, the sooner I’ll have answers for all of you.”

“Oh! Yeah, of course.” He gently peeled Natsu away, his heart squeezing at the realization that she really had nearly nodded off on him. “Is that okay, Natchan?”

There was no mistaking the reluctance in her eyes, but she still nodded. Shoyo offered her a reassuring smile, waiting for her to return it with a weak smile of her own, before he pinched her nose and stood up. “Cheer up, monkey. Sensei and Mom will figure out what’s going on, and then we’ll get you good as new.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Stop trying to climb me like a tree.”

“There’s not much for me to climb anymore.”

Shoyo gaped at Natsu in mock-offense, relief spreading warm through him at the sight of her teasing smile. His relief didn’t stop him from giving her a little shove, sending her sprawling back against her futon with an indignant squawk. “You jerk!!”

“Begoodforsenseibyyyyye!” He slid the door shut behind him to the sound of Natsu shouting, “Mooooom!!” and Takeda laughing, and was met by their exasperated mother.

“Your sister is bedridden from illness, and you still can’t stop tormenting her?”

“Nah. She wouldn’t want me to.”

The bemused exasperation on his mother’s face melted into understanding and fondness as she wrapped a warm arm around his shoulders and tucked him into her side. “…We really have missed you, Shoyo.”

“I missed you guys, too.” His arm settled around her waist, and he bent enough to rest his head on her shoulder. It was still comforting, even with the larger height difference between them. “Can I help you with anything while sensei works?”

“Yes, actually.” His mother sounded exhausted, yet another sign of the physical toll Natsu’s illness had on her. “There’s some cleaning that I could use an extra set of hands for.”

Worry pricked at Shoyo again, but he hid it with a comforting smile. “Just tell me what to do.”

He’d been eager to help because he knew his mother needed it, of course, but he would’ve been lying to himself if he pretended he didn’t also crave the distraction and familiarity of his old chores. So when he helped with washing the dishes and sweeping the floors and sorting through the medicine stores, and still found his mind wandering back to the quiet bedroom, irritation began prickling through him along with his worry.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally burst out, accidentally startling his mother from where she was hanging bed sheets further down the line. “About Natsu?”

His mother watched him for a moment, before focusing back on securing the rest of the sheets. Only then did she turn back to him with a solemn, carefully blank expression that Shoyo recognized from all the times she needed to have a difficult conversation. “What could you have done, Shoyo? You were all the way in Edo. You couldn’t have left for something like this.”

“Soldiers have gone home for ill family members before! The daimyo himself has given permission!” Never mind that those permissions were typically given to soldiers with ill children or parents to take care of.

“Don’t. You know Natsu would never want you to neglect your work on her behalf.”

“But Mom—”

“Ah, excuse me.”

Mother and son whirled towards the house to see Takeda standing on the engawa with an embarrassed grimace. “I’m so sorry to interrupt, but ah…I’m done with the examination.”

“Oh! Oh, wonderful.” Their conversation was forgotten in their urgency to get back inside and gather around the small table.

Takeda was a brilliant healer, and an incredibly kind-hearted one as well. But Shoyo had grown up learning, from his many visits to the family, that he was terrible at hiding his true feelings. Good news was preceded by a badly-suppressed smile, bad news was preceded by a crease in his brows, and news that he was nervous to deliver was preceded by restless hands.

His hands were restless now.

Shoyo noticed his mother’s eyes flickering down to those fiddling fingers before she asked, “Well…what are your thoughts?”

“Ah, yes, um…I had my suspicions from the symptoms you’d written to me about, but seeing her in person has confirmed them.” He took a slow, deep breath before he continued. “I couldn’t find much information on it, even in Edo. They call it the Crimson Breath, because the coughs it causes sometimes draws blood. It’s a very rare disease; that’s why not much is known about it, apart from the symptoms and a treatment that seems to have been able to consistently cure the few recorded patients who have had it.”

Shoyo’s heart leapt in his chest, and hope kept it pumping quickly as Takeda went on, “The treatment comes from the yamakumo flower. She’ll need a special tea from the flowers, and the leaves need to be burned for her to breathe in their vapor. Recovery will be long and slow, but in time she should be back in good health.”

Hope and relief shone from Shoyo’s mother’s eyes. “She…she can recover from this? Truly?”

“Well…yes…”

Her smile faded the longer she looked at Takeda. “You don’t…sound like you’re giving us good news.”

“Hinata-chan, I’m sorry…I’m so sorry, but the yamakumo flower is almost impossible to harvest, much less in the quantities Natsu would need. I could see how much is in the palace’s stores, but I fear not even the daimyo has enough.”

With that, Shoyo’s mother’s face crumpled back into despair. The sight of her hope being snatched away so quickly made desperation spark through Shoyo. “Why is it impossible to harvest?” he asked, struggling to keep his tone respectful instead of demanding. “Where does it grow?”

“It’s not just ‘where‘…it’s ‘when’ as well. The yamakumo flower grows at the tops of the hills and mountains surrounding the province, and blooms in the coldest winter months. The trek would already be perilous for a human, but with the snow…well, there are only two people who are known to have survived the journey. The rest…they never returned.”

“‘For a human’?” Shoyo repeated.

“Well, I imagine wolves and mountain goats and the like could make the journey, since they are built for that environment. But they wouldn’t be much help in harvesting.”

“No…no, they wouldn’t.” Shoyo fell silent as he thought over the information. There must be something, anything… Nothing came to him, except trying to become the third person to survive the journey. Even as he thought it, Shoyo knew it was impossible. But the alternative was to just…do nothing, and that felt even more impossible for him.

He fell silent as he turned this information over, not realizing how suspicious his silence was until his mother murmured, “Shoyo…Shoyo, don’t even think about it.”

Her low voice jolted him out of his thoughts, leaving him wide-eyed as he stared at her. “What?”

“I know what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not— I wasn’t—” He floundered under her unimpressed stare, unable to string together proper sentences.

His stammering made her heave a sigh, before she got to her feet and made her way outside. “Come with me.”

Shoyo’s instinct was to resist, to insist that they stay in the house to have this conversation, just to push back somehow. But it was useless when he knew why she wanted to talk outside. Natsu was already going to be feeling needlessly guilty over Shoyo coming home and seeing her this sick. He couldn’t imagine what it would do to her, to hear him and their mother argue over whether or not he should be allowed to risk his life for her.

So he shoved himself to his feet and marched outside, brushing past his mother to stand with his back to the house.

“Shoyo, there’s no way in all the heavens that I’m letting you attempt that trek. You heard what Takeda said. All but two people have died trying to get yamakumo flowers. I refuse to let you join those numbers.”

His nails bit into his palms. “Dad would’ve wanted to go.”

“Then I would’ve lost him to the mountains instead of the sea, and Natsu would be no closer to recovering!” Firm hands fell on his shoulders, and he let them turn him around to face his mother. His heart twisted at the sight of tears filling her eyes. “If you want to do something more directly, then you can visit home a little more often and help me take care of her and the house. Just…just not this. Anything but this.”

“Mom—”

“I will not trade one child for another.” Her firm voice made Shoyo’s words freeze in his throat. “You cannot ask that of me. I will do everything I can to help her, but I will not offer you up in exchange.”

“I didn’t…Mom, I would never ask you to…”

Her gaze softened at his wide eyes and guilty words, and she brought a gentle hand up to his cheek, her thumb tracing soft curves into his skin. “I know, love. I know. You want to take care of us, just like your father did. But he couldn’t make miracles happen, and neither can you. No one can.” A small, shaky smile pulled at her lips, and the sight made Shoyo wilt even more into her gentle hand. “You already do so much, and you’ve made us so proud. You don’t need to risk your life to prove something we already know.”

They stood there for a moment in a tense, solemn silence, before she sighed, “Well…we shouldn’t leave Takeda by himself for too long.” She began to move towards the house, not realizing that Shoyo wasn’t following her until she’d already reached the porch. “...Sweetheart?”

“I, um…I was thinking I could stay out here…maybe go hunting? Do you need any meat or skins?”

His mother’s concern softened into understanding. “Not ‘need,’ no. But why don’t you go see what you can find and surprise us?”

Relief nearly overwhelmed Shoyo—he was dreading going back inside and having to pin back his anger and grief into something gentler, softer, less likely to be caught by Natsu. At least now, he could use hunting as a way to work his anxieties into something softer, instead of holding them back at full force.

Even just the familiar act of finding his father’s bow and quiver, replacing the bow’s string and getting the old bamboo and wood to bend smoothly again, let his racing heart slow. By the time he left the yard and ventured into the woods, he had relaxed completely into his well-worn hunting state of mind.

It had been a while since he’d last hunted, especially with his father’s old bow, but he found himself falling back into old patterns. His muscles instinctively worked to let him be silent as he moved through the underbrush, and his ears only needed a few minutes to sharpen and hear every rustle, every chitter in this part of the forest.

What he heard now were the light steps of a deer, most likely a male judging by its weight. Perfect.

As he moved, he could see the faint moving outline of the deer, serving as a guide as he waited for the perfect opportunity to shoot it. He could have shot it while it was moving but he always preferred waiting for it to drink or eat. If it stood still, he would be able to land a perfect shot, killing it quickly and as painlessly as possible.

Then he heard something else, something that made his skin prickle: an extra set of footsteps, seemingly tracking the deer. They were heavy, assured, and measured, unlike any steps he’d heard before. Was there a new predator in the forest? After just a year away? That shouldn’t have been possible, but it was more possible than his ears fooling him.

Relax. Focus. He could aim and shoot quickly, if his mysterious pursuer decided to spring on him. For now, he just wanted to shoot this deer and get it home.

He got his chance soon. There was a small clearing between trees where the deer was able to reach some soft grass and underbrush. Shoyo slowed his breathing as he carefully, painstakingly drew and aimed an arrow at what he knew would be the weakest point in the deer’s skull. Death would be instant, painless, as easy as he could make it.

Breathe in, 2, 3…breathe out, 2, 3…now.

The arrow zipped through the bushes, giving the deer barely enough time to flinch at the moving air before Shoyo’s target was struck, followed quickly by another arrow through the neck for good measure. Perfect.

He slung the bow back in favor of a small dagger, ready to carve the arrows out if they were lodged too firmly. But when he kneeled by the body and grasped each arrow, proud relief filled him from how easily they slid out.

He tried to work quickly, cleaning and putting away the arrows before tying the deer up for him to carry home. And then, just as he finished tying the last knot, he became aware of those unfamiliar steps again, this time coming closer…and closer…

By the time his pursuer emerged from the underbrush, Shoyo was already on his feet with an arrow nocked. But no amount of preparation would have stopped the stab of fear in his chest: it was a wolf. A large, black wolf, with deep blue eyes, thick fur, huge paws, and sharp teeth…teeth that were currently bared at him.

If he were facing any other animal, something that he’d ever seen before, he would have loosed the arrow the moment he laid eyes on the creature. But this…this massive black shape with a piercing gaze…suddenly Shoyo was flung back to the dream that had been haunting him for months, maybe even more than a year at this point. Fear, confusion, and panic clashed within him, making his muscles freeze up and the arrow shake on the bowstring.

His hesitation should have been the death of him. Instead, something strange happened: the wolf calmed down, even though Shoyo’s arrow was still aimed at it. It sat, fur flattening and ears perking back up, with its tail held close to its sturdy paws. It almost looked…polite. Which was ridiculous, because this was a wild animal, not one of the army’s trained dogs, so why—

“I can help.”

Silence fell over the clearing, man staring down wolf…a wolf who just spoke. If its behavior had been ridiculous before, now it was just wholly impossible. And yet—perhaps because of how utterly dumbfounded he felt—Shoyo numbly asked, “...What?”

The wolf raised its chin, somehow managing to look down its snout at Shoyo despite sitting lower than him, and repeated in a low voice:

“I can help. You need the yamakumo flower. I can get it for you.”

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