Work Text:
Mikan
See also: Japanese citrus
An unshu mikan is a citrus fruit, also variously called Citrus unshiu, mikan, Wenzhou migan, or a Japanese mandarin.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Thunk.
The rhythmic banging provides more entertainment than the utterly horrific and unnecessary homework their maths teacher set.
Thunk.
Thunk.
Reon speaks before Tendou can hit his head against the wall again. “Could you explain it just once more? Please, Wakatoshi.”
Tendou watches Ushijima blink once, twice, breathe in, and begin to carefully explain the formula. His drying hair falls over his eyes, the green strands clump together in front of his thick eyebrows. Cute.
Tendou lets his eyes wander for a moment: to the Japan National Team posters on the walls, to the volleyball lying next to Ushijima’s pillow. Reon sits cross-legged beside him, eyes trained on Ushijima’s notepad, the ace’s hands pointing to the answer to their homework.
He and Reon long since found out that Ushijima’s weird (read: breathtaking, brilliant, awe-inspiring) brain leaps from question to answer, much to the chagrin of teachers and his fellow students. The one way of understanding the method behind his madness is to work backwards, to approach each question starting at the answer, and to slowly make their way back to the beginning.
Just like now, only Tendou has left Reon to do all the decoding, and allowed himself a few precious moments of thoughtless peace.
Reon huffs a laugh, dragging his hand across his face, “Okay, okay, I think I get it now. Damn, I’m tired.” He collapses backwards, his legs uncrossing as he lounges on the floor.
“Hear, hear, my man.” Tendou shifts his lazy gaze back to Ushijima’s furrowed brow. “Are you meeting up with Hayami tomorrow?”
“Yeah, I’m taking her out,” He knows Reon has a cheesy smile on his face, “going to that new place down the road for lunch, then maybe a walk to the park.”
“Ah, good choice, sweep her off her feet, Reon! Always a ladies' man, don’t’cha think Wakkun?”
Ushijima lifts his head, his olive hair touches his dark eyelashes, left uncut for too long. His attention flickers between Reon and Tendou before he nods, face unreadable.
“Did you watch the game yesterday? The uh, the Italian one?”
He nods, the latest match between Verona and Perugia was posted to the league's YouTube last night. “I never thought Perugia wasn’t going to lose at all this year, right? They were steaming ahead of everyone else.”
“Mhm, I was rooting for Verona though, all the way, especially since they got the first set so decisively.”
Tendou nods, thinking about how tense the game was, how much energy there was compared to the home games from his own country. He has found himself firmly of the unpopular opinion that the Italian SuperLega is far superior to the Japanese SV League. An opinion which he brazenly brings up, yet again, while his passionate counterpart doesn’t agree.
They can get very, very loud.
“I don’t care if they have Ishikawa, we are objectively better, we have better teams! One good player doesn’t add up to how many awesome teams we have!”
Ushijima is still sitting between them, looking unamused as ever as he finishes his homework.
Tendou scoffs, “Alessandro Michieletto! You cannot deny Michi, he was the MVP this year!”
“What, against our national pride?” Reon laughs, shaking his head, “We aren’t going to agree, bro.” As he packs away his studying materials and shoves Tendou to the floor one last time, he bids them goodnight. “I promised Rin I would watch that new anime for her tonight. I’ll leave you two alone.”
Tendou would argue that going up to the top bunk and putting headphones on isn’t exactly leaving people alone, but it’s as close as they can get.
This, however, leaves Tendou with Ushijima. Which is usually one of Tendou Satori’s favourite things, but there's something off about him, he’s too quiet.
Now, to the average Shiratorizawa student, this would be the normal run-of-the-mill Ushijima Wakatoshi, the famous, solemn face amongst the student body. But this quiet is hesitant, Tendou can see the gears whirring behind those eyes, like a libero ready to receive.
Tendou doesn't know what's managed to get under the other boy’s skin. Something which is rarely achieved by just anyone. Ushijima has a reputation as infallible and has been on a roll with his volleyball in recent matches, and is doing well in his classes. Nothing should, by rights, be bothering him.
Ushijima gets like this sometimes. Contemplative.
During their first year, he was often withdrawn almost completely. He was hardly seen joining team activities, and his vocabulary consisted of maybe fifty phrases, 45 of those specifically related to volleyball.
At first glance, Tendou had latched onto him, enjoying his bluntness, his honesty, and his volleyball-based moral compass. He was really the one to bring him out of his shell, to introduce him to the others and to include him in their conspiring to somehow trick Coach Saito into giving them the afternoon off. Not that Ushijima has ever taken an afternoon, or even a few hours off from volleyball.
There was a safety knowing that the only way you could be a monster in volleyball to your future ace was if you didn't commit your all, which, by coincidence, was the one thing Tendou had never had any problems with.
He hadn’t had a silent spell like this in a while, though. Maybe the looming knowledge that his time as Shiratorizawa ace was ending was getting to him? It does seem awfully scary, to Tendou at least, to begin from the bottom again as a player, especially on the professional stage. They still had nationals; there was more than enough time for Ushijima to hone his infinite skill. There was more than enough time to prepare before getting scouted, not that he hadn’t already received enough offers from D1 teams.
But that doesn't fit.
So he waits, making meaningless commentary on the recent goings on around school that, ‘surely you heard about, Wakatoshi-kun?’
“Satori.”
There it is.
“Yeah?”
The ace clears his throat, wide palms running in circuits over his knees. “Do…” He clears his throat again. God, he's really worked up about this. “Do you want a mikan?”
Now, Tendou can't say he wasn’t a little taken aback by the offer; Ushijima Wakatoshi is a stickler for rules, and one of the most explicit rules in the Academy’s handbook is ‘No food allowed in dormitories’. For Ushijima Wakatoshi to pull out a net of plump citrus unshiu is dangerously out of character.
Tendou waits, half expecting an explanation, mouth hanging a little open in shock. When it's clear no answers will come, he smiles, “Like the fruit? Sure! Who doesn't love a bit of your five a day?”
Ushijima nods and begins to peel the fruit. His thumb just pierces the thin peel to keep the juice contained within the soft orange flesh. Tendou stares at the way his hand works around the skin methodically, holding it with the same delicacy as one would have with glass.
“It is very important.”
A segment of mikan is held out by calloused fingers. Tendou takes it and raises it to his mouth. Its flavour bursts on his tongue as he meets Ushijima’s eyes. The peel on the floor between them lies in a meticulous spiral, practised in the precision of the curl.
He swallows, his tongue left tingly after its sweetness. “Woahhh, it's good.” Ushijima nods, there’s a faint redness dusting his ears. “Really good. Where did you get these, Miracle boy?”
He is handed another segment. Ushijima won’t meet his eyes, instead, he keeps them trained on where his hand meets Tendou’s.
“There is a konbini by my house.”
Tendou nods again, splitting the segment into its citrus kernels with his tongue. There's a gentleness in the air that he doesn't want to break with his usual erratic behaviour, a sort of stillness that only Ushijima makes comfortable for him.
Another segment.
“Thanks, Wakkun.”
☆
Losses are rarely endured by the Shiratorizawa volleyball team. Being the best in the prefecture and ranking in the top ten at Nationals every year for almost a decade will make a team mostly forget about the sharp ache of losing. Tendou has felt losses, obviously, they weren’t some kind of godly volleyball team. But he always had pride in his playing, always felt like he pushed his limits, all while having the best time pushing the buttons of the people around him.
However, this match was a personal failure. Against a Tokyo university team, one of the best, Tendou’s blocking had become flustered. Their spikers were built with more experience, more muscle than Tendou could deal with, mentally at least. Usually, a challenge is the best thing to get Tendou truly motivated in a game, but not this one.
School has been increasing his workload every day. A sloppy exam with below-average grades is currently on the way to his parents, he can almost hear his mom's thinly veiled disappointment through the phone.
The rapidly incoming exams are worrying him slightly, he wants to get the best out of his education, but concentrating is so hard. All he could think about was the tingle of a good block, the fear on the opposing team's faces through the net, and his favourite manga character being miraculously saved from his imminent death.
He had gotten so bummed out that even Semi was looking concerned.
After being benched for one too many aborted, half assed blocks, he joins the pinch server. “God, I must be looking rough out there if cold-hearted Semi-Semi is worrying about me.”
“Suck a cock, Satori.”
The tape on his fingers was peeling at the edges, sweat-slick skin rejecting the adhesive. He frowns.
“Only if it’s yours~”
“You’re so fucking weird.”
It feels wrong not to feel the buzz of roofing a spike. To not enjoy it.
The team had won, Ushijima looked as excited as he did before the match, which, to say, not very enthused at all. Tendou often wondered what it would be like to see that stony expression break. He allowed himself to envy him, just a little, because who wouldn't want to be Ushijima Wakatoshi? With his wide muscular build, his deep green eyes, his secret smiles and perfectly handsome face…
..that’s beside the point.
According to Tendou, the game was only a waste of two hours and a chip on his shoulder.
Even if it was some of the worst blocking of his high school career, he wouldn’t waste any more time moping, and so he pushes the last of his energy into his limbs and begins to annoy his team. He teases Goshiki about how awestruck he looked when Ushijima made that impressive line shot in the second game. He makes a lighthearted jab at Semi’s bad serve during their first rotation, which earns him a jab to his armpit as he pulls off his jersey.
Boarding the bus always follows a similar pattern. Tendou will let Ushijima take the window seat, as the other likes to watch the different plants in people's gardens, and Tendou will take the aisle seat so he can pester anyone also in the middle. Win-win.
Goshiki will always be somewhere close by, diligently watching Ushijima as if even the ace could get better during a bus journey. No one tends to bring anything but an MP3 player or a phone inside the bus, but today, Ushijima has brought a small drawstring bag.
The bag was nothing special; even so, Tendou watches Ushijima place it on his lap before buckling his seatbelt. He decides that if Ushijima opens the bag, he’ll ask, but with his current state of exhaustion and bruised pride, it's not worth the bother.
After a talk from Coach Washijo, the bus rumbles to life. It meanders through the streets of Miyagi, soothing Tendou like a baby being rocked to sleep. He feels his eyes slip closed and rests his head on the back of his seat, facing the window.
He knows the tsunami is coming, he can see its slow build-up inside the stadium, the water moving away from the main stage. I’ve got to tell Wakkun, he’s in the garden. But his feet are stuck to the ground. The debris after the birthday party still litters the floor, pale balloons and paper confetti hanging in the sky. Wonder if there was a white cake…
He folds into the brace position while he is picked up and swept away by the tsunami. I did swimming for years, I should be able to hold my breath… Ushi can't breathe. Is he okay? As the wall collides with his head, everything goes black.
“Tendou! Tendou! Fuck, we’re going to be late!”
He knows his head is bleeding. Badly. His fingers come away with dripping pulp, and his neck and back can't twist. His eyes are closed. Help, help me. Please. It hurts. He stands up. The bannisters are missing from his stairs, he’s going to fall down, Ushijima is down there. That will hurt. Don't do that.
Grotesque images of his spine pushing through his neck fill his throat with air, it pushes up against his chest to his stomach.
Genthru is there, isn’t he from Hunter?
“Tendou! You have to help me find him!”
Genthru is looking in a pothole that's ten miles deep; there's temporary fencing around the monastery.
What… can't you see? Please, call an ambulance. I’ve broken my spine.
He stumbles around, looking in the holes, trying to help, to call out, to get anyone to see that maybe there's a hole in his head, don't they need to look there too?
Saito-san is in her car, honking at him from across the road. She seems unsympathetic.
“Tendou! You're fucking late to my class! Stop moping! You’re such a baby!”
“Satori, are you awake?”
He blinks up at Ushijima, eyes blurry, “Yeah, yeah. I’m awake.”
Ushijima is close to his face. Really close.
Oh?
In his slumber, his head had tipped from the cushioned seat to his muscled shoulder, shojo manga style. He blinks again, shaking the weird dream from his head.
“I noticed your blocking was off today.”
Tendou is startled into a laugh, pulling away from Ushijima’s scrunched-up face. “You caught me!” He stretches his arms far above his head, feeling the pop! in his sternum, “Just a bit preoccupied. Can’t shake the shackles of school even on the court, can you, Wakatoshi-kun?”
Ushijima is still watching him, “I don't feel that way.”
“Mhm, no. I suppose you don't.” He glances out the window; they’re still a while away from school. “So, what did you want me for? You know I need my precious beauty sleep~”
Ushijima’s eyes stare into his, like he’s in an interrogation scene in a movie. He then glances at his lap. “I was wondering if you would like another mikan. I have brought one.” True to his word, one lone mikan sits tiny in his palm, the bag already folded up beneath his hands.
Tendou smiles, a little confused but grateful at the sentiment. “Yes, please, mikan-sama.”
His brow furrows. “Mikan-sama?”
“You know, bringing these satsumas with you. Sorry, Toshi. I must be too off my game today.”
Ushijima peels the citrus. His wide thumb once again splitting the peel at the top and winding down the middle. The pith collects in his neatly trimmed nail, where it has been stained a faint, nearly unnoticeable yellow. After he has peeled the fruit, he hides the spiral of skin within the drawstring bag.
Tendou watches as he runs his thumbnail across a canine tooth, effectively displacing the pith, which he swallows. He lets his eyes follow the movement of his throat, catalogues how his head just tilts back, and how his Adam's apple shifts. Ushijima wipes his thumb neatly on his shorts before pulling apart the two halves of the fruit, and separates a segment for Tendou.
Tendou doesn’t tend to eat citrus; he prefers watermelon or nashi pears. His parents didn’t like the mess they caused, and never bought them. He had liked the pear tree in his neighbour's garden. It had hung so conveniently over his fence that he could jump to reach them. And with each year, his reach improved, and his arms would fill with more of the tart fruits, despite the neighbours' complaints about childish theft.
But these mikan were new, different.
As they relished in the bright flavour, he took in the ease that washes over Ushijima. It’s like the tension leaves his body for a moment, and his shoulders relax with the lifted weight. Most of the time, Ushijima is wound tight like a spring, ready to spike and serve until his arms fall off.
He enjoys seeing this more secret side to Ushijima.
Tendou tells himself it's just the fruit’s syrupy sweetness that comforts his exhausted mind.
☆
He knows no mistakes were made in that rally, no misread spikes or misplaced sets. They just… didn't make it. He had not taken his eyes off that ball since it was served into play. While Yamagata touched the ball last, he knew that the full weight of the match would fall onto Ushijima’s shoulders.
Tendou is devastated. He and Ushijima had spoken at length about nationals, their last ever one, how far they thought they would get, what merch they would buy. He had been an idiot to see the match against Karasuno as just another step forward, and not the wall that would barricade them from moving higher.
Between the whistle-blowing, their devastated thank you! to their supporters, and the handshakes, Tendou’s mind was blank. As they stretch, he confesses to Ushijima that he won’t be playing volleyball after high school.
He feels the finality like a bad aftertaste.
“I’m going to brag to everyone that we were best friends back in the day. So make me proud, alright?”
Ushijima doesn’t let a beat pass.
“Sure.”
Packing away their kit and getting changed into fresh clothes before the bus was done in near silence. Washijo’s unrelenting disappointment was palpable from behind the closed locker room doors.
After their quiet bus ride back home, he has mostly recovered from the shock, but the disappointment weighs heavy in his chest. He wishes he could stay on the court, could play just one more game, one more rally. He knows that Ushijima will play for him, and that at least begins to settle the itching pain of this loss.
At Shiratorizawa, a wave of uncharacteristic nostalgia washes over Tendou. Their home court was… well, just that, home. It won't be the last time he plays volleyball, but the feeling will be gone without the triumph of winning to work towards. This very specific set of people won’t ever play together again.
It feels like grief.
“After Tendou leaves this world…”
He smirks, “Wakatoshi-kun, don’t make it sound like I’m gonna die.”
Tendou was surprised by how insightful Ushijima’s comments on the team were; he’s amazed that he even noticed everything. Especially for Goshiki, the boy having Ushijima’s absolute confidence in his potential will no doubt fuel his passion for years. While their captain rarely says the most socially correct things, when he does compliment someone, it’s sincere, more valuable than a hundred compliments from others.
When Goshiki begins to cry, still bowing to hide behind his fringe, Tendou can’t help the maternal instinct that comes over him. “Come on, now. Stop that crying,” He rests a hand on Goshiki’s shoulder, pulling him up, “How are you going to lead a team like that?”
Goshiki nods, but his shoulders don’t stop shaking until they begin the huddle for criticism from their coaches.
Even during their hundred serve penalty for losing, Ushijima does not waver from his absolute concentration. A few missed jump serves are to be expected, considering the exhaustion of a five-set match, but Tendou could see the way he paused after landing for longer than usual.
“Get moving, boys! It’s late enough, go get dinner and go to bed! I want to see you bright and early for morning practice!”
Yeah, no thanks.
“Uhm, Tendou-san… have you got a minute?”
Tendou almost drops his fresh clothes on the floor of the locker room. He seems to be in a constant state of surprise today, or maybe an alternate dimension, because there’s no way Kawanishi Taichi is actually asking to talk to him.
Tendou whirls around, “Is my precious kouhai going to beg me to come to morning practice? Or maybe thank me for all those long, arduous hours I helped with his blocking? Or-”
Kawanishi scoffs, turning away, “Doesn’t matter.”
Mhm.. maybe I’m pestering him a bit too much after such an emotional time, it must be so overwhelming for a robot to feel so many things in just one day.
“I’m sorry, Taichi. What did you want to talk about?” He turns to face the younger middle blocker, trying to show him a little more respect than usual, it's been a difficult day after all.
Kawanishi's eyes dart between the wall behind Tendou’s head and his shoes, “I… I wanted to thank you for helping me with my blocking. And encouraging me when I didn’t have the confidence to play anymore. I think that you have been a good teammate.”
He’s rendered quite speechless, and so he thanks his blushing peer, bows deeply, and allows Kawanishi to leave with only a little teasing.
After taking his time getting changed, he sits on the bench by the door with his head against the wall, waiting. Tendou savours the salonpas smell of the gym, savours the quiet chatter from his now ex-teammates. Ushijima sits next to him after a few minutes, a deviation from his usual routine.
Tendou hums softly as Ushijima pushes their shoulders together. “What are you doing after high school, Semi-Semi?”
The younger falters a little while staring at the mirror, fixing his hair into something kind of presentable. He stares at Tendou, blank-faced, “Probably do something with music… I don’t know, college, maybe.”
Tendou hums.
“Why do you ask?”
Tendou notices Ushijiima’s eyes on his hands, can almost feel the heat of his inquiring gaze on his long fingers picking at his nails. “I don't know, just wondering.” Throwing a grin towards the setter, he gets up, disturbing Ushijima’s support, and signals him to follow.
The slow walk back allows Tendou the space to take in Ushijima, and assess how exactly he should begin to fix the ace’s morose mood. By the time they get to Ushijima and Reon’s room, he has half a plan put together.
“Hey, Reon, you don’t mind if I hang around yours for a bit, do you?”
The other boy shakes his head, “Nah, you're good. I might just go to bed, I’m shattered.”
Tendou has a sneaking suspicion that Reon knows what he's up to, with Tendo being the only one to ever really understand their ace. Or try to.
Even as Ushijima and Tendou settle into the former's bed to watch one of their favourite matches, Reon sneaks a grin Tendou's way, and tells them that he’ll be staying at Semi’s dorm that night.
The match is one that they have revisited multiple times, Russia vs Brazil, London 2012 Olympics. Once his laptop decides to play the video, the game is in full swing. Brazil’s number 4 spikes out of bounds. Russia’s number 17’s spike slips past the Brazilian libero.
Ushijima’s eyes glow with the light of the screen, his pupils dilating and contracting as he watches the ball fly between the halves of the court. Each point scored seems to pull him closer, as if he could crawl inside and play with them. As the Russian number 13 hits that last set and the crowd goes wild, Ushijima sits back, eyes closed.
He takes a minute to examine Ushijima’s slack face, no longer strained with the stress of their loss. Closing the laptop, he spares a thought for first-year Ushijima, same stoic face, same haircut, same fiery passion in his eyes, just with a little more baby fat to shake off and a lot more rigid in his ways.
Ushijima leans down to reach into his bedside table, pulls out a mikan, and begins to peel. Yet again, Tendou is sat, watching in silence as he systematically tears apart the fruit and eats it. Ushijiima hasn’t spoken for over three hours, his silence almost comforting in post-game clarity. The air around them is still, the only light remaining comes from a small lamp on the shared desk in the corner of the room.
“Satori.”
Tendou raises his eyes to meet Ushijima’s. “Yeah?”
The ace raises his hand, a small orange slice held between his thumb and forefinger.
“Here.”
☆
“Tendou, Coach Washijo has requested that you help with a training camp. He has asked for us to be there in half an hour.”
If Tendou yelps and his heart partially stops beating, that's between Tendou and his heart, okay?
“Jeez, Wakkun! Way to scare a guy!”
When he spins round in his chair, Ushijima is already in his gym kit, minus his shoes. From this angle, god, he almost looks like a model. “Are you coming?”
Tendou shoots upright and claps his hands twice, “Yes! Yes, I will pass on my skills, like the perfect third-year senpai!” He looks around his dorm, smiling sheepishly, “just give me five minutes to try and find my clothes in this mess?”
Ushijima nods, is that a smirk? “Fine, I will do a lap of the building and wait for you by the doors.”
He hurried to get changed and to dig around his abused gym bag for his volleyball shoes, thrown in the corner of his dorm from their afternoon practice.
Despite the few weeks separating them and their loss at Nationals, it still hurts. Himself, Reon and Ushijima still practise, the other two wanting to play pro after high school, but Jin, Semi and Yamagata get this constipated look on their faces when they pass by the gym. He can almost see the match point of the last set playing in the reflection of their eyes.
He had considered giving up volleyball entirely to focus on his studies, but he knew that it would create a hole in his life. Volleyball has been his main outlet of energy, irritation, and his first and foremost source of joy, he couldn’t just quit that, right?
And then he and Ushijima wouldn’t hang out as much, while they would still see each other at break and lunch, and after school revision, and for breakfast, and dinner, and during class… well, okay, they are best friends, so of course they’re seeing each other all the time. But it’s different on the court.
There’s not a more beautiful sight than seeing Ushijima spike.
His clothes still smell of sweat, and are uncomfortably still warm, fuck that's so gross, but he doesn't want to keep Ushijima waiting by finding a clean gym set. He races down the hall and the two flights of stairs, bursting out of the building and straight into his best friend. He swings his hands in front of his face as his slim frame slips against the solid body of the ace, careening toward the hard concrete. Before he can even comprehend his imminent death, strong arms wrap around his middle, pulling him upright with a jolt.
Hot breath brushes Tendou’s ear, “Are you okay, Satori?”
He almost squeaks.
“Yep!” He is set on his feet, and feels, just for a moment, a hug from Ushijima. Those thick arms holding his middle makes his chest pound with fear and a rush of butterflies sails up his throat.
He snaps his eyes wide open and laughs, stepping forward to brush off imaginary dirt on his clothes, “yep! All good here, Ushi! Wow, you should be a… firefighter! Yeah, a… firefighter with those rescuing skills… of yours… yeah.” His face is hot, boiling hot, like, Mount-Fuji-just-woke-up-from-a-nap hot, “you alright, Wakkun?”
Ushijima is just sort of peering at Tendou, his eyebrows are pinched, but he leans back, and the creases fade, “I am alright, Tendou. Though you should be more careful not to run onto the pavement like that, you could’ve gotten hurt.”
Tendou swallows around a lump in the back of his throat, “Ushi! You shouldn’t be running outside dorm doors!” He tugs on the other boy’s arm, pulling them both upright, “c’mon Waka-chan, we’re going to be late, you don’t want to be shouted at again.”
Goshiki is over the moon to see his two favourite, yes two favourite senpais show up to his practice, and Tendou is delighted to see the little number 10 and beanstalk number 11 from Karasuno. Though he is disappointed to learn that the ankle biter is just a ball boy.
“Semi-Semi! Better get that service ace!!”
“Cut it out with that ‘Semi-Semi’ crap!”
As Semi serves the ball a second time, Tendou catches number 10 shuffling around in the corner, shifting his feet with the most concentrated look he’s ever seen on such a dumb little face. By some miraculous feat, he actually manages to receive the ball, even if it gives him a bloody nose. He seems so proud, as if he’s just pulled off a nice spike, even for something as unusual as receiving a ball to the face; he’s beaming like it’s his birthday.
He reminds himself to keep half an eye on number 10 during the rest of the day.
Even during the warm-ups between games, number ten, who he learns is called Hinata, is always ready, always watching the ball. The fire in his eyes is unnerving to say the least, and Tendou feels a sort of jealousy at his determination.
While he does get his fair share of showing off to the little ragtag group of Miyagi first years, he’s glad to hear the whistle blow for the final set. He scans the room, looking for-
There’s a poke to his back, “Tendou. Your water bottle.”
He whirls on his heels, beaming, “Wakkun! How kind of you!”
Ushijima frowns; he is always frowning! “Thank number ten, he gave them to me.”
“Mhm.” Tendou gulps down half the bottle, dehydrated from the long, intense rallies and non-stop sets, “What do you think about that number 10?”
He’s not stupid, he remembers Ushijima’s harsh words about Hinata from before Nationals, but…
“He came here to create a chance he wasn’t given; he just showed up. The reality remains that he wasn't chosen to be here.” They watch him run diligently across the courts, mopping up the sweat and grime that built up from the last game. “It’s likely his future holds more of the same.”
He lets out a whistle between his teeth as Hinata excitedly holds the ball, “Such a sad, sad tale.”
Tendou lets his eyes catalogue Ushijima’s expression, lips curled slightly upwards, his eyes set on the tiny middle blocker. Volleyball brings out this side to Tendou that he never wants to forget, never wants to go too long without.
“There is no accommodation for people who were not invited.”
Tendou still gets shivers from Washijo’s cold voice, and he feels a pang of sympathy for Hinata. He can’t fathom staying that positive under such harsh conditions, after carving out a place for yourself where you are not, and will not be welcome.
He tugs on Ushijima’s fresh tracksuit jumper, “But we do have lodging, though. We usually hold way bigger camps than this one, and they just sleep in one big room.”
Ushijima just picks up his gym bag and turns away.
Tendou takes one last look at the bright middle blocker and jogs to catch up to Ushijima, walking towards the lower common room.
The equestrian side of Shiratorizawa is beside the volleyball gym, and, while for the first year of high school, running around horses and dodging yard hands was weird, Tendou eventually came to find camaraderie with the horses. Where he grew up, there was a long path, just a few streets away from his school, that horse riders commonly took. He never liked the look of the beasts, with their long back legs and alarming black eyes. He couldn’t see the appeal.
But, they were just another part of his life, he never really paid them any mind until they were at his back door. Well, volleyball's back door.
Walking with Ushijima now, he glances at the jumping lessons going on beside them. He watches in awe as one of his classmates and her beautiful seal brown horse clears just over six feet. The horse's long legs tensed and curled, and flew. While he doesn't share the need to fly like some of the spikers on his team, he understands how good it must feel to be above the world, performing at your best.
Ushijima soars on the court, his explosive power unmatched with strength and technique in the prefecture, and only bested by Itachiyama’s Sakusa’s technical ability nationwide. Tendou knows that the best view is from below, as his ace hangs in the air, the aura surrounding him intense and fierce. You can see, almost in slow motion, the movement of each muscle, and feel the crack of his palm against the leather of the ball, and it’s one of Tendou’s favourite sights.
Something he doesn’t want to forget about after high school.
They reach the doors for the dorm building and step inside; the autumn air outside beginning to turn chilly, and the warmth inside is welcome. They shove their shoes in their lockers, or, well, Tendou shoves his shoes inside his locker, Ushijima puts his away like he hasn't been raised by wolves.
Tendou moved through the hallway and into the common room, and to his delight, just the person he was looking for is studying diligently with Shirabu at one of the back tables. He bounds over, ignoring the irritated look he’s already getting thrown his way.
“And how is my favourite setter today?”
Semi glares at him as he drapes his arms across Shirabu’s shoulders.
“Who are you talking to, Satori?”
Oh, Semi is so pissed right now, what has got his panties in a twist…
Shirabu shakes off Tendou’s long arms, muttering about sweatiness, despite him actually being freshly showered and clean!
“Semi-semi! What’s got your panties in a twist?” He smirks at the approaching Ushijima, “Semi is in a huffy mood, Waka-chan, don't even try to have a normal conversation with him right now.”
Ushijima pulls out a chair beside the other third year, “Tendou, you are most likely annoying him due to your disruptions."
Tendou sighs theatrically, before sitting next to Ushijima, “Shirabu, how come you’re studying with Semi? I kind of thought you hated the guy.”
Shirabu goes immediately red, and looks up at Semi, who couldn't care less what the second year thinks of him, “I don't hate any of my upperclassmen. I just wanted to study with someone.” He looks down at his work and then frowns at Tendou, “Semi-san was just here.”
He nods along, not entirely listening. Ushijima has half-opened his gym bag, rummaging through, and Tendou sees another net of mikan. While they are hidden within the depths of the duffle, he thinks again about how Ushijima seems to always have some on him, or near him. It's not like he would have to go that far to go up the stairs and get them in his room; he doesn't have to carry them everywhere.
He shakes his head. There’s no use trying to work out every part of Ushijima; to some extent, the guy is a mystery. But as he looked up, the ace was already watching him.
The two setters have already started talking about something boring to do with proverbs.
He glances over at the others, then back at Ushijima. “Do you want to go upstairs, Wakkun?”
Tendou’s dorm room is rarely empty, all of Semi’s free time used to be all of Tendou’s free time, and Semi has an unhealthy attachment to his bed that has sparked too many arguments for Tendou to really care about anymore. So, while there's a golden opportunity of actually being able to hang out in his own room with Ushijima, he races to pull the captain upstairs.
Shiratorizawa does allow for some decorating, as long as it's not permanent, so he and Semi have a collection of posters and Tendou's enormous horde of manga he insists must be front and centre on their windowsill. The school has the students move up a floor each summer to air out the rooms and allow the first years to have the ground floor dorms; despite it being the best floor for sneaking out, which the new students always figure out incredibly fast.
Despite their clashing personalities, they do dorm well together. Their first year was a bit awkward, but once they became acquaintances through the club, friendship followed pretty easily. And arguments over rooming became few and far between. Tendou had always preferred sleeping on the top bunk, and Semi moved too much for the creaky metal frame. Semi prefers to study late, and Tendou studies in the morning. Semi showers six million times a day, and Tendou likes to shower twice.
While he is usually fine to hang out in Ushijima’s room, he is glad that he doesn't have to deal with the lingering awkwardness of Reon listening in on their conversation, even if it’s unintentional.
Tendou ushers Ushijima up to his bunk and unplugs his laptop charger. For some reason, his hands are thrumming with energy and shaking ever so slightly. “I wanted to rewatch the PlusLiga games from two years ago. I thought that you might want to see Jochen Schöps’ final again?”
Ushijima hums, “It was an especially good year, I thought it was Asseco Resovia’s best, with him as opposite.”
“I think they peaked in 2015, the last year and a bit haven't been their best.” He clambers up onto the best and slots in beside his ace.
“Maybe. They did well in the domestic championship,” Tendou nods as he boots up his laptop, the loading screen particularly blinding, “despite them not winning, I still think it was a good performance.”
“I guess. It’s still on YouTube, right?” His mouse lags its way across the screen to open Google.
“Yes.”
After much fan whirring and restarting, his ancient laptop begins the game. The pair settle down, this particular match is just under four hours of a non-stop battle for the ball.
They know the match pretty well by now; it’s one of the most usable training matches they have to hand, as many of the players share techniques and characteristics that the coaches want them to build upon.
And there was a lot of personal sentiment for Tendou.
The PlusLiga matches start about a month after school begins in Japan, which meant that they were the first matches he ever watched with people just as passionate about the sport. It was originally Reon’s idea, as he had been the most sociable, and asked Tendou if he had a laptop. While it wasn’t the best in the world, it’s the only one the team had.
And so, for the first time, Tendou had found himself surrounded by friends almost every single day, eagerly watching the uploaded matches. He could still remember the fear that ran through him. What if they were just using him to watch the games? Or are they only pretending to like him so he would block for them?
Looking back, he felt so small, so alien, his confidence was a weak gimmick at best, and he had every last one of his hopes riding on the fact that he was, and is, incredible at what he does. Compared to now, where his life is full of good, funny people, and he even has a few best friends. It's more than little fifteen-year-old he could've dreamed of.
The second set begins before he notices. Skra Bełchatów took the first decisively, cutting Asseco Resovia off at 23 points. It’s easy to let his mind drift with these familiar games, especially with the quiet but persistent mental reminders of their graduation only three months away, and the thought of what to do after… it's really unnerving.
But that’s a problem for another day. Right now, he’s here, with Ushijima, his best friend, and they’re watching one of their favourite volleyball matches in Tendou’s bed and he’s happy.
“Tendou, are you watching this?”
Ushijima is peering down at him, and from where Tendou is, having shimmied his way onto his back, the ace looks laughably stupid. His eyes are upside down, and his frown looks too serious, his mouth downturned in… worry?
He springs up, fixing Ushijima with a look, “Yeah, sorry, just let my head go for a wander there. You okay?”
Ushijima purses his lips, then opens and closes them a few times, before pressing the space bar on Tendou’s laptop to pause the match and pushing up and out of the bed. All the while, Tendou is once again watching, confused at the others' actions, and, being resigned to his fate, flops down onto his back.
“‘Jima, you can’t stop the video, it's never gonna work again.” He whines, mainly just to make noise.
The sky had gotten dark outside, and the lamp on Semi’s bedside drawer cast a soft, yellow glow around the room, Ushijima’s silhouette standing strong across the wall opposite. Tendou can see the top of his eyebrows through the rails on his bed, and when he shifts his head, they lock eyes.
Ushijima had the deepest eyes Tendou had ever known, the amber green of his irises barely outlines his blown-wide pupils. They match his perfectly formed eyelashes, thick and voluminous around his soft skin. There’s a freckle, in the middle of his bottom lash, on his left eye. Tendou studies it to get a reprieve from the others' intense glare.
Then Ushijima moves, throwing something up onto the bed beside Tendou and climbing to join him. He’s practically touching noses with Tendou before the other can blink.
“Tendou.”
“Yeah?”
“Do you want an unshu mikan?”
Bewildered, he nods. Ushijima begins to peel, but quicker this time, like there’s something to lose. A slice is offered to him.
What the fuck is happening?
They eat the orange in silence. Tendou watches Ushijima separate the segments, give one to Tendou and eat one himself. The ace has not looked at him since he spoke to him. The flavour of the orange seems irrelevant, it's as good as it always is, softer maybe. But all he can think about is this mounting feeling in his chest, like something is about to burst.
Ushijima looks at him as Tendou eats the last slice, his teeth close around the segment, the juice bursts in his mouth, perfectly ripe, sweet.
“Tendou. I have wanted to say this for a long time.”
Tendou almost chokes on the orange, but Ushijima continues, still watching him.
“I admire you greatly, and I have come to value your company more than I have ever valued anything, apart from volleyball. But you have become a part of how I play. I struggle to imagine the world of volleyball without you in it. And I worry,”
This is the most I've ever heard him speak.
“I worry that I will miss you intensely. Like a limb.” Ushijima leans forward, and Tendou finds he can't help but reciprocate, staring at Ushijima’s lips.
“And I was wondering if you would like to go on a date with me, as I like you very much. And I would like to ki-”
Tendou, who has been nodding at everything he says, lunges forward when he hears that golden word and crashes their lips together. He reaches his hand forward to hold the back of Ushijima’s head with a need he has never been able to act on. He pulls back to reposition them, but Ushijima pushes him down, keeping their lips connected.
“Mh wa- wait, wait, ‘jima.”
He pulls away, worry etched onto his face again. “I apologise, Tendou, I-”
Tendou shakes his head, following Ushijima as he sits upright again, “No, no, don't worry. You got to say all your romantic words, don't you think I should get to as well?”
Ushijima blushes, patchy redness blossoming from his ears and down his neck, it’s quickly becoming his favourite sight to see. Tendou moves to peck his cheek, beside his ear, and a hardened hand clutches at his arm.
“I just wanted to say,” The grip on his arm tightens as the words whisper across Ushijima’s ear, “I like you too, Wakatoshi. Very, very much.” His hand cups the other side of his aces face as Tendou presses his lips to his cheek again, “I wanted this for so long, miracle boy.”
As soon as he leans back, Ushijima is pressing on him, connecting their lips as they fall back into the bed. He smiles into the kiss, despite how awkward the angle becomes, he can't help himself. He’s wanted this for years, and never thought, not for one moment, that he would be able to have Ushijima like this, crowding against him so desperately.
There’s hands brushing against his neck, his face, tangling in his hair, like Ushijima can’t decide where to touch next. Soon, Tendou swipes his tongue across Ushijima’s closed lips, wanting to devour him whole.
Once he gets the ace to open up, Tendou licks into his mouth, causing Ushijima to moan and jolt his hips. He tastes like citrus, and Tendou chases the flavour, craving the taste of his partner. A shiver of excitement zips up his spine as Tendou nudges Ushijima’s thighs apart, shifting his hands lower to encourage the other to roll his hips onto him.
Ushijima presses his hips down into Tendou, moving to kiss down his neck, muffling moans into his skin…
“...that’s what I said, you can’t do that with every…”
His head whips around to his door, following the movement of the people outside.
Shit.
In his haste to, well, seduce Ushijima Wakatoshi, he has completely forgotten about the very crucial and dangerous fact that they are in the middle of their high school, and not tucked away in a secluded area where they can fuck like rabbits. The door isn’t even locked.
Though it looks like someone hasn’t gotten the message…
“Toshi, Toshi, stop. Someone’s going to hear.” He pulls the other boy up by his hair and, fuck, Ushijima looks like a wet dream, well, like every one of his wet dreams at least. The ace’s usual stoic expression has been cracked, his eyebrows drawn up, his lips red and swollen, staring at Tendou with unfiltered want in his eyes.
Tendou waits until the voices fully fade, before kissing Ushijima once, and reaching behind him to check his phone. As he swipes through his messages, trying to find Semi’s contact, Ushijima drops his head back down to his neck, kissing along his collar.
“Okay, dinner starts in twenty minutes, and Semi is coming back any minute to shower, so we shouldn’t start anything we can’t finish.”
Ushijima nods from where he’s begun to chew on Tendou’s collarbone.
Tendou groans dramatically, “Toshi, you can’t leave me to be the responsible one here!”
His ace just hums, tentatively exploring underneath Tendou’s shirt with his large hands.
“If I can convince Semi to leave us alone and sleep in your room with Reon, will you leave my poor, poor neck alone?”
Ushijima sits up, still straddling Tendou’s thigh, “I… Yes, I’m sorry, I forgot where we were.”
He looks embarrassed, which is not a look that Tendou needs to be so addicted to. Especially not the blush that’s fully bloomed across his face and travelling beneath his collar. Seeing someone so put together get wrecked by a few minutes of making out and grinding really gets Tendou hot and bothered, but seeing Ushijima Wakatoshi straddling his thigh with such a debauched look is something out of this world.
He moves his hands to the dip in Ushijima’s waist, and lets a smug smirk take over his face. “Don’t apologise, Wakkun, just save that energy for later, yeah?”
Ushijima almost whines.
And if anyone notices their poorly hidden hickies when they sit down for dinner, no one says a word.