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Chapter Text

(Mizuno Hikari)

The morning is clear.

It is a perfectly ordinary April morning. Like every year. Spring break is over, and with it a new school year begins at Fukurodani High School. My third year. My last. It is still cold when I leave the house and close the door behind me. I expected nothing else, since mornings are simply still a little colder at this time of year. Today is the first day of school, and with it, normality returns to my everyday life. Bokuto was already standing by the gate to our front yard, grinning at me. He definitely had more energy than I would have liked. It was always like that after the holidays, whenever he knew he would be able to train with his team again.

I took a deep breath and walked toward him. “Good morning.” I said at last when I stopped beside him.

“Good morning, Hikari. Are you excited already?” he asked loudly right away. Too loudly for my taste at this early hour. I tilted my head slightly to the side and asked, “What exactly am I supposed to be excited about? It is the same classroom, the same school. I will definitely be sitting where I always sit. Nothing new.”

“Hey, we are in our third year now. That means something. This is our final year!” he said enthusiastically, as if it were an achievement that deserved recognition.

“You know very well that it was closer with the promotion than it should have been.” I replied, clearly not as happy as he was. He should not expect the year to become any easier. He looked a little defeated to the side and muttered something about me not reminding him.

“Do not sulk. The year is not going to get any easier.” I added dryly.

That hit, even if only briefly.

Bokuto always recovered quickly from things like that, even if he did not seem like it at first. Within just a few minutes he had pulled himself together again and spent the rest of the walk talking about how much he was looking forward to training with Akaashi again. I had stopped listening long ago, my thoughts drifting straight back to my duties as a school medic. Where would I be assigned this year? Last year I had kept things in order for the basketball club, and the assignments for this year had not been handed out yet.

I barely noticed it before we had already arrived at school. The trees had grown leaves again, everything looked like the start of a new, fresh year. New faces I did not recognize, others that were missing.

The walk to the classroom was familiar, every step habitual, each one automatic. The classroom looked just as we had left it before the break. As always, I went to my seat in the second row. Bokuto took the seat next to mine. We both unpacked our things, I neatly, he chaotically. Sometimes I wondered how he managed to function in all that mess, but in the end it was his mess. Not a wild chaos, but one with a curious system behind it.

Now that I was sitting here, the thought truly settled in for the first time. Not in passing. This was the final stretch. My last year of school. The last year next to Bokuto. The thought was not frightening, not uncomfortable. It was a fact I could not change, and precisely because of that, it felt calm somehow. I liked facts. They give structure. Perhaps that was exactly why the thought was so quiet in my mind. One step closer to my future.

Yes, that sounded good.

The classroom slowly filled with other students. Class had not started yet, so the teacher was not there either. Bokuto chatted animatedly with everyone, as if the two weeks of break had not just happened. It was natural for him, of course it was, just like so many things. Since we still had some time, I took a book out of my bag. It was a nonfiction book about the rehabilitation of athletes after injuries. Not something others would read voluntarily, Bokuto had said, but it interested me. I made notes in the margins at places where I was dissatisfied with the wording.

                            Too general, every course is different.

                            The example is not thought through well enough.

                            The author is not an athlete.

While I was absorbed in my notes, someone nudged me from the side. I lifted my gaze in that direction, even though I knew exactly who it was.

Bokuto grinned at me broadly and said far too energetically, “Hikari, did you see? Almost everyone is back. Even Sasaki. She almost failed.” I could tell from his expression that the moment he said it out loud, he was already anticipating my next comment. “She probably said the same thing about you.” He quietly turned back to the side, as if he wanted to forget what I had just said. Before the conversation could continue, the teacher entered the classroom. Conversations slowly died down and eyes turned toward the blackboard. I closed my book, put it back into my bag, and directed my attention forward as well.

The teacher cleared his throat briefly, and the last noises behind me faded away. “Good morning and welcome to your final year, class 3-3.” he began. I knew exactly what kind of speech was coming next. Something about this year being more difficult, about the pace increasing. He emphasized in particular that the science subjects would become more demanding. Without even looking, I knew exactly how Bokuto was sitting right now. Probably slumped halfway over the desk, looking miserable. And it was only the first five minutes of class. He whispered something, I heard that. My gaze drifted over to him.

“Man, Hikari, that sounds like so much. I cannot handle that.” he complained quietly in my direction. I already knew that Bokuto was not particularly good at school, not because he was stupid. When something interested him, he could seem genuinely intelligent. No, his problem was simply that the material did not suit him and that he could not retain it well. Learning new things worked just fine for him in volleyball, after all.

“You can do it. Do not start worrying already. You passed the exams, so it will work out somehow.” I said encouragingly. Eight in the morning was too early for a depressed Bokuto.

His mood did not improve much. “That is easy for you to say. I only passed because we studied so much.” he shot back. I sighed quietly and then said, “We will study together again this year too, so pull yourself together now and pay attention.” That was enough. His eyes lit up again, as if I had just promised him the world.

Now the lesson truly began. Terms, new topics, announcements. I wrote everything down neatly and in a structured way in a notebook beside me. Bokuto wrote as well, though more out of principle than understanding. At least he was trying, I kept telling myself. Even so, I kept hearing his comments over and over again.

“Hikari, I think I am dying.” he complained once, sounding miserable, when biology was up.
“Not yet.” I replied quickly, but I could not resist adding, “At least not until the first exam.” He had to grin a little, and then it was already fine again. Bokuto never annoyed me, no matter how loud he was, no matter how much he talked. I actually found it quite pleasant to listen to him, even if it was sometimes a bit exhausting to keep up. He had never annoyed me, not once over all these years. And he knew in turn that I never meant it badly when I said something. It was simply understood.

The material dragged on until the break, but when the bell rang, everything became loud again. Behind me and in front of me, the students continued talking about the holidays as if they had never stopped. Meanwhile, Bokuto pulled his desk a little closer, took out a bento box, and started eating.

“I am so excited for practice later. I thought I was going crazy.” he started the conversation. I looked at him in confusion and opened my mouth. “You were in the gym every other day and kept pestering Akaashi to practice with you.” He looked at me almost in shock and only got louder. “That is not the same. School plus training just feels more right. Better. Everything else is only half as good.” he said, as if it were the most logical thing in the world. “Seriously.” he continued right away. “I have a feeling this year is going to be really good. Tournaments, training camps, new opponents. I am really fired up.”

I had to smile a little. Of course. “You can tell. When are you ever not fired up?” I replied, almost laughing. He kept eating and told me that this year he wanted to become the best spiker in the country. Not just in the top five. I listened and nodded. Just like I always did.

After classes ended, he lingered for a moment before running off to practice. “Study at your place after training?” he asked quickly.
“Yes, study at my place.” I replied. Before I could say anything else, he was already gone. He had spotted Akaashi in the hallway and ran after him. Of course he did.

I picked up my bag and went somewhere out into the schoolyard. I planned to read a bit until Bokuto was done with practice. It was always like that. I read, studied, or did something similar, and after training we walked home together. It was still fairly cool, so I pulled my jacket a little higher. I found a comfortable spot and set my things down, took out my book, and opened it.

Time passed quickly. I did not even notice, since I was so absorbed in my book. The sun had already set and it was slowly getting colder. I did not notice Bokuto at first, but it did not take long before he said, “Progress does not come from strength, but from patience. What is that even supposed to mean? I think strength is important.” I flinched briefly and then looked up.

 “What is that supposed to be? Please announce yourself before you scare me like that.” I half shouted before I could even respond to what he had said.

“Sorry, that was not my intention.” he apologized quickly and grinned again. I sighed and packed my things away.

“Forget it. Let us just go.” I said as I stood up.

We were on our way home, the same route as always. It was never the fastest, but it was the prettiest. We had discovered it sometime about a year ago. Along the way there was a small kiosk and a park. We walked side by side and talked casually. Well, he talked more than I did, but that was normal.

“The new first years are really crazy. One of them actually asked me if I was the Bokuto. As if there were more than one.”

“There are, just not at this school.” I replied with a small laugh.

“And Akaashi, man, he plays like we never even had a break. Even though he was kind of mean today.” he muttered, sulking. I raised an eyebrow slightly in mild confusion.

“Mean? Him? You definitely provoked it. Did you brag to the first years about how cool you are?” I asked. His reaction said everything. He dodged the question and simply looked off to the side, still sulking.

“Figures.”

We kept walking, and after not too long we reached the kiosk. We usually made a short stop here every time. By now, the shop owner already knew us. You could almost say he expected us. It was a small kiosk called Sakura Mart. It was warm inside, radiated a pleasant calm, and you could eat there directly as well. It was simply the perfect place after school to spend your money. I glanced at Bokuto, and he returned the look with a grin. Without much discussion, I nodded briefly and we went inside. Mr. Kobayashi was standing behind the counter, reading a magazine and listening to the news on the small radio next to him.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Kobayashi!” Bokuto said right away. I simply gave the older man a short nod. He looked up and smiled broadly.

“Well, if these are not my favorite high school students. So the break is finally over?” he asked casually. Bokuto and he were immediately deep in conversation, while I looked for something to eat for us. In a refrigerated shelf I spotted onigiri with salmon and edamame filling. That appealed to me, so I took one. Now I just needed something for Bokuto. Just as I headed back toward the counter, I saw heated items in another shelf. There were nikuman there, and if I remembered correctly, Bokuto liked those quite a bit. I grabbed one and went to the register. Mr. Kobayashi rang me up quickly, and I handed Bokuto his nikuman.

“That is exactly what I wanted!” he exclaimed right away and thanked me before eating it. We said goodbye to Mr. Kobayashi and continued on our way. It was not far to my house anymore, and from a distance I could already see the gate. It was not a particularly flashy house, but it was not small either. My parents were both fairly successful. My father was a doctor with additional training in sports medicine. Together with my mother, who was a physiotherapist, he had opened a practice, and it was doing extremely well. My father was the team doctor for many teams, including the volleyball team MSBY Black Jackals. My mother took care of the physical therapy for the individual players. The two of them complemented each other perfectly, and you could see that in their work. And in our house as well.

I opened the door and was immediately greeted by the smell of gyūdon. I took off my shoes and placed them in my spot, and Bokuto did the same.

“Hikari, is that you?” came from the kitchen. My mother peeked around the corner and beamed happily.

“Oh, Kōtarō, you are here too.” she said, sounding briefly surprised, though it was more appearance than reality.

“Good evening, Aoi.” Bokuto replied, as if it were the most natural thing in the world to call my mother by her first name. And for him, it was. In his eyes, she was more of a friend than my mother, and the feeling was mutual.

We went to the table. It was already set for four people, which told me that my mother had expected Bokuto and that her surprise had really just been for show. Just as we were about to sit down, the front door opened and my father came in.

 “I am home.” he announced while already changing his shoes into house slippers. When he entered the room and saw Bokuto sitting at the table with us, he grinned broadly.

“Oh, Kōtarō, nice to have you back. How was the first practice of the year? Did your setter challenge you well?” he asked right away. He knew the team from seeing and hearing about them. He knew how well Bokuto and Akaashi played together. The question was simple curiosity, whether everything was going well. They started chatting animatedly about various things, mostly about volleyball.

At some point my mother came in with the food. She placed a portion of rice in front of everyone, but Bokuto got an especially large serving. She piled a lot of meat onto his plate and said he needed it if he wanted to keep growing. Bokuto accepted it without batting an eye. That was what our evenings usually looked like.

After eating, we went upstairs to my room. I took a second chair and placed it next to my desk so we could sit there together. Bokuto dropped straight into the chair and took out his study materials.

“Where do you want to start?” I asked while I took out my own notes and sat down at the desk. He did not have to think for long and pushed his biology notebook toward me.

“Biology was kind of bad today. Maybe English after that too,” he said, sounding a little down. Studying was simply not his favourite activity, but it was something we both had to get through if we wanted to graduate someday.

“All right, then biology. I explain, you listen and take notes. Okay?” He nodded without any objection.

I opened the biology notebook, and that was how the study evening began.

Chapter Text

(Mizuno Hikari)

A few days have passed since school started again. Everyday life had returned.
School, training, studying.

Bokuto had told me yesterday that they had a practice match today against another school. He was excited. For him, it was the first real match of the year. Even if it was only a practice game, he would give it everything. That was normal for him. As always, I had made time for it specifically. I went to all of his matches, not because I had to, but because it simply felt right. He came to my violin recitals, and I went to his volleyball matches. That was just how it was with us.

I had brought a book with me about tuberculosis. Volleyball simply was not my world. I got bored quickly during the rallies. I did not really understand the rules, what was allowed and what was not. The only thing that mattered to me was that I was there and that Bokuto knew it. I sat in the stands, not too close to the front, more off to the side. Beside me was a basket, and in my hand the book. The teams had probably already been playing for about twenty minutes, and it was still the first round.

No.

It was still the first set.

I corrected myself internally, even though no one could hear it. It was important to me to use terms like that correctly. After all, Bokuto had been playing this sport for years. The least I could expect of myself was to have some of the terminology down. I watched Akaashi set the ball to Bokuto, who spiked it straight through the block. He cheered afterwards and looked up at me, as if he wanted to say, Did you see that? Am I not cool?

I had to smile a little and nodded back at him. Then he kept playing. The book in my hand was being ignored more than it was being read. Not because I did not want to read, but rather because the match was more interesting in that moment.

Well, not really the match. More the players’ movements.

I could clearly see that the opposing team was tensing their shoulders too much, how someone jumped awkwardly, landed awkwardly. It was not much better on Bokuto’s team. Akaashi had overstretched his finger slightly once. I saw that. He was putting less strain on it. The ball came in lower, Akaashi’s sets were flatter than usual. Not only because of the low receptions, but also because of his finger. Bokuto tried to adjust his spike and turned his hand a little too far. There it was. Bokuto had twisted his hand just slightly too much. A movement that was barely noticeable, yet it was enough. His brief hesitation before the next hit made it even clearer to me. I forced myself to look back down at my book. I can think about that later, I thought.

A chronic infectious disease whose course depends heavily on the immune status of the affected person.

Cheering.

My gaze jumped back to the court. Bokuto’s team had won the set. That was to be expected, not because the other team was bad. Bokuto’s team was simply better.

The rest of the match continued like that. The second set was also won without any trouble, and in the end I had not even read a full page of my book.

I stood up while the team was still cheering and celebrating. Not because I wanted to leave or because I was no longer interested. I had a different goal. With the basket in my hands, I went down to the entrance of the hall and stood next to the door. From here I could see the team well. They were sweaty but happy. Bokuto was not the only one who had been looking forward to this match. I could see that clearly. Konoha high fived Washio, both of them grinning.

Akaashi noticed me first. He almost always did. He had good awareness, not only during matches. Bokuto came running straight toward me, as if he had not just jumped about fifty times to score points.

“Hikari. Hey, hey, hey!” he shouted excitedly. Before he could run into me, I stepped slightly to the side and let him run past.

“Hey, so. Who is hungry and thirsty?” I asked straight into the group. I did that often. Usually after the first match of the year or after exhausting tournaments, I would be there with homemade sandwiches and electrolyte drinks. At some point I had simply started doing it, at first only for Bokuto. Then I realised that was unfair, and after that everyone got something. With the third years, I already knew what they wanted. For Washio, one with lettuce, egg, and mayonnaise. For Sarukui, ham and cheese. I knew Akaashi’s preference as well. He always took one with chicken breast and lettuce, without sauce. Bokuto always took something different, but I always had the right thing. With the first years, I was still unsure, so I had prepared a small selection. Several mini sandwiches.

Each sandwich was individually wrapped with a name on it. One by one, the players came over, took their sandwich, and said thank you. Some spoke to me briefly, but not much. The first years watched from a distance, sceptical.

“Who is that?” one of them asked. That had to be Anahori.

“Probably Bokuto’s girlfriend. They look like it, did you see how he almost ran her over?” the second replied. That was probably Onaga. Before I could say anything, Washio stepped in from the side.

“That’s Mizuno. She’s a good friend of Bokuto’s. He once said they have known each other forever. But I do not think there is more than that. I do not think he even sees her as a woman,” he explained to the two of them while eating his sandwich. I had to smile a little. Bokuto really did not see me as a woman, he had proven that often enough. The closest I ever came to being a woman to him was a sister or a cousin. Otherwise, I was simply Hikari, and that was perfect. He was simply Bokuto to me as well. One of the first years finally came over to me. I handed him the mini sandwiches, he thanked me and quickly hurried off again.

Quite cautious, those two. They will warm up eventually, I thought briefly and watched him go. Akaashi came last. He had just wiped the sweat from his forehead and his fingers with a towel. I handed him his sandwich. He looked at it briefly and then thanked me. He had checked it as if he wanted to make sure there was no sauce on it. If only he knew that I kept a list of all the players’ preferences. No one ever got something they did not like.

I also made mental notes about the first years. Onaga liked the one with egg, but not tuna. Anahori, on the other hand, had not touched the sandwich with egg at all, instead alternating between the other two. Chicken breast and tuna were both fine for him.

While everyone was eating happily, we sat down together somewhere near the edge. Bokuto was already talking again with his mouth full, enthusiastically telling me about Akaashi.

“Hikari, did you see that set? It was really so-”

“Yes, I did. You scored,” I interrupted him. “Finish chewing before you talk.”

“Do not talk with your mouth full.” Akaashi added from the side, continuing to eat calmly. I had to grin a little and agreed with him.

“He is right. You do not talk with your mouth full.” I continued, lecturing him.

Training was over for today after the practice match. The team was done, and Bokuto’s energy was slowly fading as well. You could tell because his hair started to droop. I was the first to stand up, decisive.

“Come on, we are leaving, Kōtarō. Otherwise you will not make it home later because of how tired you are, like last time.” I teased him.

“Man, you are so mean. But I still want to stay here a bit-”

“No arguing.”

“Okay.”

I said goodbye to everyone and then simply pulled Bokuto along behind me. I did not give him any time to break free.

On the way home, he was unusually quiet and kept looking at his wrist. I had already seen during the match that he had twisted it slightly, but this time he noticed it himself. I should probably tape it quickly once we got home. Then it would be fine again in a few days. Provided he actually kept the tape on.

“Your wrist. I will tape it later.”, I said, looking at him seriously.

He looked at me in shock and said, “Of course you noticed. Man. But okay. Just do not tell your father, otherwise I will not be allowed to train for days again.” I had to laugh a little. Of course he was more afraid of my father than of me, but if that threat was enough, I was fine with it. “Fine, I will not say anything. But the tape stays on.”, I warned him. He knew exactly what I meant.

The next day, the tape was gone and he had been banned from sports for a week.

Chapter Text

(Akaashi Keiji)

The floor of the hall feels different today. Harder. Or was there something else? Yes. I felt different today. Not unfocused, nothing negative. If anything, I felt more focused. My routines were smoother today, my sets more precise. It felt good. My movements were almost automatic, I did not have to think about them much. The rhythm was perfect as well. I allowed my thoughts to drift. Yesterday’s match.

I went through it. First the individual sequences, the rallies, then the points. Bokuto’s down phase, which had ended suspiciously quickly. Even if it might have looked that way from the outside, I still did not fully understand Bokuto. His down phases always had a reason and I countered them, but often more by chance than by real understanding.

While I was thinking about it, I set the ball to Bokuto. It was perfect. “Here, this one is for you, Bokuto.”, I called out to him before it left my hands. Bokuto jumped, hit. Point.

I let my thoughts drift on. Another image pushed its way into my mind.

The stands.

Some of the spectators were from school, others were simply curious. No one particularly special, and yet the image lingered on one girl with a book. I knew who she was. I had met her often enough, even though we never talked much. Mizuno Hikari. Or rather, Bokuto’s classmate.

She was at most of the matches, especially at the beginning of the year. She always sat in the same seat, up in the corner, where she took up little space and barely stood out. Most of the time she had a book in her hand, even if it received little attention from her. She rarely read during the match, I noticed that. Her gaze kept drifting back to the court. Not hectic, not obvious. More unintentional.

That was normal. Every spectator followed the ball, the points. They cheered when the right point was scored, and yet the thought felt wrong somehow. No. She never watched the ball. Her gaze was not fixed only on Bokuto either, which one might assume. It rested on all of us. On the players, as if she were seeing something we could not see.

I remembered how she had stood at the entrance of the hall after the match with her basket. Sandwiches for everyone. She always had the perfect one for each person, the first years got a small selection. No one ever received something they did not like. As if it were the most natural thing in the world to make homemade sandwiches with different fillings for everyone.

Without really being able to stop it, my thoughts jumped back to my first match at Fukurodani. She had been there as well and had brought a selection for me too. I ate everything, even though I truly liked only one of them. I had not said anything. That would not have been polite. And yet, after that, I never again got a sandwich I did not like. To this day, I wondered how she knew. Bokuto and I had never talked about it.

A short whistle pulled me out of my thoughts. The coach said something, I nodded. I adjusted my set and looked over at Bokuto. The thought still lingered somehow. It was not intrusive, just there.

I followed Bokuto’s movements. Today he was hitting differently. Not wrong, but different.

Only now did I notice it. He had yellow tape on his wrist. Had that been there yesterday? No. That was new. Had he hurt himself? I went through yesterday’s match again and stopped at one reception. It had been low. Too low. My set had been too flat because of it, and he had corrected it with the rotation of his hand. There it was. He had twisted his wrist because of my set. Damn. That was my fault. It gnawed at me. I urgently needed to practise my setting on low receptions. That must not happen again. In a real official match, it could cost us the win.

The coach blew the whistle again, this time not for a correction, but for a break.

I went to the side, grabbed a towel, and wiped my forehead. Then I took my water bottle and drank a sip. Out of the corner of my eye, I watched Bokuto rip off the yellow tape and throw it into the bin. Of course.

“Are you sure you should take that off? That tape is probably not there for fun.”, I said to him while following him with my gaze. He waved it off. “Yeah, sure, Hikari said it has to stay on. But with the tape on, I just lose power when I hit, you know?”

“You are just being clumsy.”, I replied.

Note to self. Bokuto fact 162. He does not like tape and thinks it makes him lose power.

“That is unfair. You definitely noticed that I am not hitting like I usually do.”, he called out immediately, offended.

I rolled my eyes slightly. “Maybe. But tell me, did Mizuno put the tape on?”, I asked now, trying to distract him.

He nodded proudly. “Yeah. She practises it a lot and she is actually really good at it, do you not think?”

“Then is it not a bit disrespectful to rip it off?”

He froze. Something else clearly started rattling around in his head. I could see it immediately. “What is going on in your head right now?”

“Oh, this is going to get me into trouble.”, he muttered, almost whining.

“What?”, I asked again.

“Mizuno said if I take it off again, I get banned from sports.”, he admitted, defeated. I had to suppress a grin. “You could have thought of that earlier.”, I said, keeping my face neutral.

He kept complaining, talking about how he did not want a sports ban, how he did not want to use the time any other way. Then came the realisation that Mizuno would force him to study. Every day. That surprised me. I still remembered clearly how he had told me that he was looking forward to studying more with Mizuno this year because she explained things so well and had an incredible amount of patience.
“Did you not say just a few days ago that you were really excited to study with her?”, I had to ask.

“Well, yeah. But only after training. Not the entire afternoon.”, he continued.

The topic drifted a bit further. Now he was complaining about how Mizuno had studied chemistry with him a few days ago. She had been merciless. He said they had spent a good three hours talking about the same topic over and over again.

“Did at least something stick?”

He replied reluctantly, “Somehow, yes.”

“That is progress.”, I said.

“Yeah, without her I would really be lost.”, he added.

“Then maybe listen to her a bit more.”, I replied.

“I do.”, he called out defensively.

I could not help but smile a little. “Except when it comes to taping.”, I countered.

“That is unfair. I said the stuff makes me lose power. I will prove that I am right now. Set the first ball to me, Akaashi. I will score.”, he said confidently and went back onto the court. I took a brief deep breath and followed him. Of course he would prove it to me. He would not let that go.

The first ball came, and I set it to Bokuto as requested. He hit it again, just like always. Point. He cheered and immediately called out, “Akaashi. Did you see that? Did you see how cool that was? So I was right.”

“Yes, I saw it. You were right.”, I said.

Training continued. The ball came and was received. I set it high.

Damn. There it was again, the pulling in my finger, and I ignored it anyway. I could deal with that later.

Chapter Text

(Akaashi Keiji)

Classes were over, and I did not have training today either, but going straight home somehow felt wrong. It was only the afternoon, half the day was still unfilled. My mind was calm, but my body was not. Bokuto had been banned from sports for the entire week, so he could not even ask me if we could still practise with the ball outside.

The thought made me smile a little. It had been amusing how Mizuno had scolded him after training. He had told me the next day that her father had given him the ban and that he had to listen. Instead of staying at school, he now had to be home on time, and his parents would apparently make sure he was not even a minute late. You almost felt sorry for him, but it was his own fault.

My feet carried me to the library without me really thinking about it. It was a quiet place where I could often calm down on afternoons without training. I often read something vague, sometimes I just borrowed a book. But every time I was in the library, my mind and body grew calmer. Today was no different.

The room greeted me with a muted silence, a warm feeling. It was exactly what I needed right now. At the counter near the entrance sat the librarian, a book open in front of her. She glanced up briefly and nodded at me. That was it. You never got more than that from her.

I walked past her and stopped at a bookshelf in the back corner. It held many different books, academic literature, fantasy, romance. I went over the titles one by one.

Too superficial, too much fiction, uninteresting.

I pulled out a book, read the blurb, and put it back. Today I simply could not decide. Nothing really appealed to me. I moved on to the next shelf. This one leaned more towards psychology. Very factual, but exactly the kind of calm and structure I liked. I took a book out.

Cognitive Load and Mental Recovery.

Factual. Precise. No promises it could not keep. I read the blurb, and it felt perfect as well. Not because I urgently needed mental recovery or felt overwhelmed, but because I wanted to understand how it worked. It might be useful to me at some point in the future. I turned around and looked for a place to sit. Not far from me, I spotted an empty seat on a sofa. It looked comfortable. I sat down, leaning back slightly. The fabric gave a little. Many people had probably sat here before. I did not open the book yet. First, I let myself enjoy the quiet for a moment, letting my gaze wander briefly over the shelves. My eyes moved on, this time across the nearby seating area. While I did so, I slowly opened the book and was just about to start reading when my gaze stopped.

Not far from me, perhaps two metres away from the sofa, Mizuno was sitting. I recognised her immediately, not because I had been looking for her, but because she radiated a certain calm that I had felt before.

Her gaze was fixed on a book resting on her lap. I could read the title.

Fanconi Anemia: Clinical, Cytogenetic and Experimental Aspects

I was briefly surprised. I had not expected her to be reading an English book. I would normally have assumed Japanese. Fanconi anaemia sounded like something medical. Factual. Heavy. Not something you read casually. She looked focused, occasionally writing something in a notebook beside her. From where I was sitting, I could see that the page was almost completely filled, but I could not make out the details. I did not need to.

I turned my gaze away again, organised my thoughts, and read the first page.

Mental recovery does not begin with switching off thoughts, but with consciously reducing what-

A dull noise interrupted me. I looked up briefly.

Mizuno’s notebook had fallen to the floor. She was just about to get up and pick it up herself, but it was so close to me that I lifted it instead. My eyes moved over the page involuntarily. Notes. A lot of notes.

                  The author writes in a very medical way, little didactic value.
                  Very thorough clinically, but clearly an older state of research.

My eyes moved on quickly, catching other notes.

                  Many case studies, but little systematic summary.
                  Therapy often only means damage control, not healing.

I looked back at Mizuno and handed it to her. “Here.”, I whispered. She smiled at me. “Thank you.”, she whispered back. She placed it beside her on the table as if it had never fallen.

The silence returned. My eyes went back to my page. I pretended to read, but my thoughts were still with the notebook. She had not only written factual comments. I had seen more. More personal notes. They lingered with me.

                  I would leave nothing to chance that can be planned.
                  I would give one final concert. Not out of sentimentality, but to set an end point.

I had to think about that. She had put herself in the position of the patients. She was thinking about what she would do. I did not fully understand what she meant by the concert, though. But I did not ask. Those were not comments meant for me, so I had no right to question her.

After staring at the first page long enough without actually reading on, I looked back at her, then at my book. It kept happening. A glance at my book, a glance at her notebook or her book. When I looked up this time, she was looking at me. That same calm smile again. I wondered whether she had noticed how often I had looked, whether she had noticed that I had read her notes.

“Are you interested in the topic?”, she whispered. I blinked briefly, not caught out, but clearly surprised that she addressed me.

“A little. It sounds-”, I hesitated, searching for the right word. “Complex.”, I finally said. She nodded. “It is.”, she replied briefly. For a moment, we were simply quiet. Not uncomfortable, just a pause. Her gaze flicked briefly to my book and she read the title. “You are reading specialist literature too.”, she observed.

“Yes. I wanted something calm.”, I answered. She looked back at her own book. “That makes sense.”, she said before it fell quiet again.

My gaze returned to my book as well. This time I read for longer, and yet the short exchange stayed in my mind. Not because of the words, but because of the naturalness of it. She had not asked why I was looking. She had simply assumed there was a reason and did not question it.

I thought about it calmly. Mizuno was more than just Bokuto’s school friend. I had known that before, but only now did the thought really surface. She was focused and reflective. Someone who did not just consume, but processed. Her thoughts were not decorative, they were functional. That was not a new realisation that changed much, but it helped me place her.

We sat like that for a while longer, without exchanging another word or glance. At some point her phone vibrated and lit up. She glanced at it briefly, then pushed it aside again, as if she had decided it could wait. I had been able to recognise the profile picture on the display. I knew it. It was Bokuto. After perhaps another ten minutes, it vibrated again. This time she picked it up. It must have been a call, because she answered briefly.

“I will call you back in a moment.”, she said calmly and hung up immediately. She did not give the other person even a second to speak. The next moment, she stood up and began packing her things. Not hurried, but clearly with system and order behind it. She put on her jacket and slung her rucksack over her shoulders, but before she left, she turned to me once more.

“I have to go. Until next time.”, she said to me. She already knew that we would see each other again soon, of course. She was always somewhere around Bokuto, and Bokuto was around me often enough. I did not say anything to her, only gave a brief nod. That was all I managed.

After she left, I turned back to my book. I continued reading as if nothing had interrupted me. And yet, one thought remained.

That had been somehow pleasant.

Chapter Text

(Mizuno Hikari)

It was a Saturday at midday. I was standing right in the middle of the city, in the pedestrian zone. Beside me was a fountain, quietly trickling along. There were far too many people around me, but that was just how it was on a Saturday afternoon. My gaze drifted upward to the sky. The day was really beautiful. The sky was blue, with only a few clouds visible. The sun shone pleasantly onto my face. I let my thoughts wander freely, not for any particular reason. It simply felt good.

For just a brief moment, they went back to that afternoon in the library. My mind sorted it immediately. A coincidence. A short, friendly conversation. Nothing that carried much meaning.

After that, my thoughts moved on. I was in the school medic meeting. The supervisor had distributed the assignments, but told me that I could choose this year. We were short on people, which meant three clubs were still open. Football, volleyball, or basketball. I had said that I would think about it, even though it was already clear. Not only did I know it, the supervisor knew as well that I would sign up for the volleyball team. Not just because of Bokuto, but because I simply brought the experience with me. After all, my father worked with professional volleyball players.

Bokuto pulled me out of my thoughts when he suddenly appeared next to me and greeted me.

“Hey. Have you been waiting long?”, he asked with a grin. I shook my head, even though it was a lie. Bokuto was not exactly known for being on time. Quite the opposite. He was the one who was always at least ten minutes late. I, on the other hand, was always punctual. Normally I could make sure we arrived on time, but since we had not walked into the city together today, I could not help it.

“So, what is first on the list?”, I asked him now and briefly checked my phone.

1:45 pm

We were half an hour behind schedule. Great. I looked up again and put my phone away.

 “I really need new trainers.”, Bokuto said after a brief moment of thought.

 “Then let’s go.”, I replied and simply started walking. We always went to the same shop, so I did not even need to ask which one he meant. I just pulled him along behind me.

The shop was not far away. It was large and easy to spot. We went inside, and music and the smell of rubber hit us immediately. It was loud, crowded, and bright. Shelves filled with endless rows of sports equipment. The shoe section was at the back of the shop. Rows of shelves with countless sizes, colours, and designs. There really was something for everyone.

Bokuto had no idea where to start. “This is too much.”, he muttered quietly while looking at the shelves.

“You knew what to expect.”, I replied dryly and walked over to a shelf with his shoe size. For me, the choice was simple. The right size, good cushioning, and stability. With him, it was a bit different.

He picked up one pair. Too tight. Another felt strange. Yet another pair, the one I suggested this time, did not even get tried on because they did not look fast enough. I let him talk and try things on. At some point, he stopped searching altogether and just waited to see what I brought him. The shop assistant was already giving us a strange look, since we had gone through almost an entire shelf, but then he recognised us. Same routine every few months whenever Bokuto needed new shoes.

I held out a pair to him. Almost identical to the ones we had bought last time.

“These.”, I said as he took them from me.

“These?”, he asked.

“Good support, little slipping around. They look fast, but not too fast. Do you not think so? They practically scream ace.”, I explained my choice. That last sentence did it. He tried them on and agreed with me. They were perfect. We paid and left the shop together, Bokuto happy. I should remember this for next time. Then we would not need forever again. I checked my phone once more.

2:30 pm

I looked at the time in disbelief. Forty five minutes? Just for a stupid pair of shoes? Anyone who says women have a shopping problem has never gone shopping with an athlete. I took a deep breath and put my phone away again. Bokuto looked at me with a grin.

“Do you still want to go somewhere?”, he asked.

I hesitated and had to smile. “Since when do you ask me things like that?”, I asked back.

“Since I have new shoes and still have energy.”, he shot back, as energetic as ever. I thought briefly about whether I wanted to go anywhere else, then shrugged.

“I thought you wanted to go somewhere.”, I said.

He glanced down at the shoes. “No. I have everything. Well, almost everything.”, he said, then slowly looked back up at me with a grin that already told me he had some strange idea.

 “Almost?”, I asked.

He stepped behind me, grabbed my shoulders, and simply pushed me in a direction.

“Kōtarō, what are you doing?”, I asked again, but he only told me to let myself be surprised.

After a short walk, we arrived at a bookshop.

“I will buy you a book of your choice. As a thank you for helping me with the shoes.”, he said with a grin and held the door of the bookshop open for me.

“That is the only appropriate thanks.”, I shot back, laughing.

Inside the bookshop, there was a pleasant quiet. Fewer people, no loud music, not such harsh lighting. I headed straight between the shelves, Bokuto following me a bit awkwardly.

 “Do not forget our rule for bookshops.”, I reminded him.

“Yeah, yeah. Read the blurb before I make a stupid comment.”, he replied reluctantly, but still in good spirits.

I stopped in front of the shelf with medical books and let my gaze wander over the titles. I read them one by one.

Multiple Sclerosis: A Mechanistic View
Cystic Fibrosis: A Clinical View
Parkinson’s Disease
Prion Diseases

All titles that sounded good, but none of them were for me. Bokuto eventually pulled one out. 

“Locked In Syndrome, that sounds good.”, he said immediately and pressed it into my hand. I skimmed the first few pages. Actually not bad.

“Locked In Syndrome. Mhmm. Akaashi is always completely locked in too.”, he added and laughed a little. The comment drew a brief, uncontrolled reaction from me, then I cleared my throat to remind him. He fell silent.

 “Sorry. What is the syndrome?”, he asked quietly.

“It is a condition in which people are fully conscious but can hardly move or not at all. Sometimes only their eyes.”, I explained calmly and kept looking through the book.

He blinked twice. “Oh.”, was all he said. Now he did not find it funny anymore. It took unusually long before he knew what to say again.

“Okay, not cool, but definitely exactly your kind of book.”, he said now and grinned again. I did not disagree.

“Alright, then we will take this one.”, he said, took the book from my hand, and went to the till.

After paying, he handed the book back to me. “Here.” I took it immediately and stuffed it into my bag. “Thank you.”

On the way back, Bokuto talked about how excited he was to train again starting Monday. I listened and let him talk.

“One week without training is cruel, especially right at the start of the season.”, he complained at some point. I had to laugh a little.

“Your own fault. You knew what would happen if you just took the tape off.”, I replied.

He sulked. “You are unfair.”, he accused me.

“No, consistent.”, I corrected him. The conversation continued, and we argued a bit more about the fact that he should still take it easy on his wrist. He did not want to.

After a few minutes, the conversation slowed until it eventually faded out. Not because we had nothing left to say, but because sometimes silence was enough. Even Bokuto could not do that often, but sometimes, when it was just the two of us, it worked. We turned into our street, and that was when I stopped. Not abruptly, but decisively. He took one more step, then stopped as well and looked at me questioningly.

“There is something I wanted to tell you.”, I began, smiling slightly.

“I am part of the school medics.”, I added. Bokuto did not quite understand what I was getting at. He tilted his head slightly and then said, “Yes, I know, and now?”

“Well, this year I get to choose where I help out. The basketball club, the football club, or the boys’ volleyball club. So this year, I can decide myself.”, I continued. I saw his eyes widen and his grin spread.

“Does that mean?”, he asked.

“Exactly. I will be supervising the volleyball club starting Tuesday.”, I replied. He blinked once, then a second time.

“So with us?”, he asked again, just to be sure.

A laugh escaped me. “No, the Nekoma team. Where else?” , I asked, laughing. He made a small jump.

“That is amazing! Then you will always be there!” , he exclaimed enthusiastically.

“I was already there before.”

“Yes, but now officially and with responsibility!”

“That is exactly why I am less excited than you.”

He laughed loudly. “Does not matter! The team will love you.”

“I do not think so.”

“I do.” , he said with conviction. “Akaashi will like it too. He listens to things like that.”

I shrugged. “I am not there to control anyone.”

“Yes.” , he said, grinning wider. “Me.”

I snorted quietly. “Right, especially you.”

He started moving again, almost bouncing with energy. “From Tuesday. Wow, I am really excited.”

We kept walking. He went on talking about all the possibilities that were now open, but my mind was elsewhere. Something had been set in motion, I could feel that. I just could not yet say what.

Chapter Text

(Akaashi Keiji)

Monday. Not exactly my favourite day. Mondays were always loud, exhausting, and above all the start of another long week, but the training at the end of the day felt like a reward. We had just finished stretching. I had not even stood up yet when it already started.

“Akaashi, set to me first.”, Bokuto called out through the hall, as energetic as ever. He always had a lot of energy on Mondays, but today it felt different somehow. I put it down to the fact that Mizuno’s father had banned him from training all of last week because of his hand. At least that was how Bokuto had complained about it to me during a break. I knew, just like he did deep down, that it was his own fault. He preferred to blame it on the unfairness of the world.

During training, he kept calling for the ball. Almost insistently often. He did not get it every time. Not because I was ignoring him, but because the other spikers deserved their chances too. I kept the balance to stabilise his mood. Not out of duty, more out of experience. If I ignored him for too long, his mood tipped.

But today something was different. At first I blamed it on Monday, then on the forced break from training. Yet I noticed that his high phase was stable today. No drops, no tipping. Even when he was blocked again and again or hit the ball out. Suspicious. I did not address it yet. I did not want to interrupt the run he was on.

The ball came. I positioned myself and kept playing. Bokuto called again, but this time full of joy. As if he was enjoying everything. Even being blocked. Normally I would slow the tempo now, play more carefully. But today I had the feeling that I did not need to. He would handle it. I wondered whether we were heading towards a bigger crash than usual, or whether this high might actually last.

The coach blew the whistle and called out that we would be taking a ten minute break. Without hesitation, the team moved to the side. Some complained about being tired, others were simply quiet, and then there was Bokuto. Normally he was loud, laughing, talking. But today he just grinned broadly in my direction while I took a sip of my drink. It was almost creepy, the way he stared at me. As if he were trying to hide something. And he was really bad at that.

 “You are really good today. That is unusual.”, I said dryly. Normally he would complain now that I was being mean, but he stayed silent. That only made it stranger. I narrowed my eyes slightly.

“Say something. It is really uncomfortable when you just grin like that.”, I added immediately, trying to provoke a reaction. Anything to make him stop staring at me like that.

He blinked, the grin still firmly in place. “Oh.”, was all he said. Oh. That was it. Only then did I realise what a mistake that had been. His eyes widened, he took a breath, and then it burst out of him.

“Hikari is coming from tomorrow!”, he shouted far too loudly. “Like officially! Not just like that! She is going to be the medic for the team, like properly. Making sure we do not get injured and stuff. She will do stretches with us, tape professionally, and improve our posture. This is going to be amazing!”, he rambled proudly. I let him talk. There was no point in stopping him now. He kept going without taking a breath.

 “She signed up! She had the choice and she chose us! She is always here on Tuesdays, is that not practical? So cool! She already knows everything about the team anyway. She is perfect for the role!”, he continued. This time he paused briefly so I could respond.

 “She has to be a masochist if she is doing this voluntarily.” He ignored it or did not hear it, because the next moment he was already talking again.

“I mean, she was always around anyway, but now for real. With responsibility and all. She will tell me when I need to take breaks, but that is fine, because-”

He stopped abruptly. He had spotted someone coming through the door and immediately ran over to them. As he ran, he shouted far too loudly, “HEY!” He reached them before they could escape.

“HIKARI IS COMING TO TRAINING FROM TOMORROW! AS THE MEDIC!”, he yelled on. Everyone got the information if they did not leave the hall quickly enough. At some point he just started repeating himself, but still did not stop. I set my bottle down and interrupted him with,  “If you keep shouting like that, you will not have a voice tomorrow.”

“Does not matter. This is more important!”, he replied quickly and was already running off to the next person.

I watched him for a moment and took a deep breath. “At least now I know why his mood is so good.”, I muttered to myself. Sarukui came over to me and also looked after Bokuto.

“As long as it stays that way, it is a good thing.”, he said optimistically.

“Yeah, maybe. But I do not have the feeling that it will stay that way.”, I replied, more serious than I had intended.

“You are overthinking things again.”, Sarukui said calmly and smiled at me.

Maybe I was. But in the end, I would have to balance it out again if he did switch back into his depressed mode.

Training continued as if nothing special had happened. At least for everyone except Bokuto. He was still far too upbeat. Calling out, laughing, demanding balls. Still no sign of a crash, no tipping. I kept setting to him and noted in the back of my mind how consistent he remained. It almost seemed effortless, as if he was always like this. If you met him for the first time today, you might actually believe it.

In the middle of the training session, the coach interrupted and called us over. I caught the ball, set it aside, and then went over to him with the rest of the team. We gathered around the coach in a semicircle and fell silent. The coach cleared his throat.

“Well, since Bokuto has already told you, I do not need to say much more. From tomorrow on, we will be getting an addition to the team. Not on the court, but on the sidelines. Mizuno Hikari from class 3-3 has been assigned to us as our medic. She will observe training and help when necessary. Please go to her if you notice that something does not feel right. That is what she is here for.”, he explained. A few glances were exchanged, but none of them surprised. Bokuto kept grinning and nodded eagerly at everything the coach said.

The moment the coach finished, the door beside him opened. Mizuno entered, wearing a sports jacket and with her hair tied back. She let her gaze sweep over the team and smiled softly. She did not hesitate. She stepped forward confidently. The coach looked at her.

“Good to have you here.”, he said to her, before turning back to us and continuing.

“Mizuno will be joining the rest of today’s training to get a proper feel for things before tomorrow. She has experience. Her father is a sports physician and her mother a physiotherapist. Listen to what she says, follow her corrections, and take her seriously. She is not here to coddle you. She is here to prevent injuries.”

Mizuno briefly introduced herself. She did not say much about herself, since most of them already knew her.

“If you have any questions or something does not feel right, just come to me. Even if you are not sure. Better once too early than too late.”, she said to the group.

When Mizuno finished and was just about to step to the side next to the coach, Bokuto sprang at her from the side.

“Hikari. Make sure you watch me properly. My hand is really fine again, you will see.”, he said before running back onto the court. He did not even give her time to react. My gaze met hers briefly. She gave me a short nod. That was enough.

Onaga served. The ball came to me and I set it. Everything went on as before, but I noticed how my gaze sometimes drifted toward her. Not because she was distracting, but because it was unfamiliar to have someone else sitting there. She observed us and wrote something down. No comments, no interference. She was simply present. With Bokuto, it was different. After every second point, he looked over at her openly. Raised his arms, gestured, without saying anything directly. It was as if he were trying to speak to her in a different language. He was seeking her attention, but not romantically. More like a child showing their parents something they were proud of. Mizuno barely reacted. She just looked up and sometimes smiled in approval.

That was enough for him.

It happened again and again, and I could feel myself slowly hoping that this mood would last, even if only for a few days. It was rare enough that I did not have to steer Bokuto back onto the right path several times a day. Not having to do it at all was new. Pleasant. I realised that my mind was probably quieter than it had been in months. I could concentrate better, feel the ball better. And yet, I looked over at Mizuno again. She had been looking at me, but was now looking away and writing something down. I wondered what she was writing. Notes about me and the others? Observations? If so, what had she seen? Did I have poor posture? I adjusted my shoulders slightly, made sure my fingers touched the ball correctly. Just the thought that she might see something I did not notice myself unsettled me.

Training finally ended. Mizuno had continued writing a lot. Bokuto ran straight over to her when we were done and looked at her notebook.

“You are taking a lot of notes.”, he said and snatched the notebook from her. I watched the scene from a distance. He teased her a bit about the fact that she had made notes about the different plays. She had used the wrong terms.

“Oh, that. That is a quick attack you are describing there. I am happy to explain it to you in more detail if you do not understand.”, Bokuto said and eventually handed the notebook back to her.

“Forget it. You are bad at explaining.”, she shot back and laughed softly.

I remembered earlier, when I had seen her writing. That had been when we ran the quick attack. So that was what she had been writing about. I felt an unpleasant sensation fade away. I did not question it further. Not now. I was too tired for that.

Chapter Text

(Akaashi Keiji)

Today was an afternoon without training. By now, I had developed a small ritual for myself. On days without training, I always went to the library, either to read or to borrow a book. It was nothing special, but it was firmly anchored in my daily routine. Today was no different. Classes had just ended, the school corridor was slowly emptying, and I was on my way to the library. The route was habit. My feet carried me in the right direction without me having to think about it. 

I thought a little about the past few days. Mizuno had settled in well. She was at every training session, always at the side, always with her notebook. Bokuto’s mood was still good. He had a few small dips, but they were not as bad as before. He recovered more quickly, and Mizuno helped guide him back onto the right track. It was surprisingly relieving. The team had accepted her well too, but no one had really approached her yet. Neither had I. Not because I wanted to avoid her. I simply had no reason to.

When I arrived at the library, the librarian greeted me again, as always, with a nod. I nodded back, but she had already returned to her book. It was quiet in the library. It was comfortable. It did not feel oppressive. After the long and loud school day, coming in here felt like stepping into another world. The only sounds you could make out were soft whispers or the rustle of someone turning a page. I walked through the aisles, looking at the books. As usual, I stopped at the non fiction section. I skimmed the titles. My gaze shifted to the side. Normally, Mizuno sat at the table beside mine. I expected nothing different today. That too had become part of my ritual. A glance toward her, one she returned. Sometimes we nodded to each other, sometimes it was just a smile. Today, however, I saw a different scene.

Bokuto was sitting next to Mizuno, both of them had school materials spread out in front of them. Chemistry. Her things were neatly arranged beside her, a notebook with clean, organised notes. In front of him, chaos had broken out. A notebook with obvious water damage and pens scattered all over the place. I could hear their conversation from here, even though they were whispering. Mizuno was clearly starting to lose her patience, but she kept her calm manner. Bokuto, on the other hand, was completely overwhelmed. He looked like nothing was getting through to him anymore.

“Okay. We will go through it again. Slowly.”, she said and pointed at a passage in the book. He nodded. “I am ready.” She let out a deep breath and then said, “You have said that the last five times as well.” I had to smile a little as I listened. I looked at Bokuto’s notes. They looked like battlefield sketches. Mizuno explained it to him again. She stayed patient.

“Man, why is this so hard!”, he complained when she finished.

“Because chemistry is not volleyball.”, she replied.

He snorted softly and crossed his arms as he leaned back. “Chemistry is stupid. What is it even good for?”

Bokuto’s head turned slightly to the side, toward me. He was looking straight at me now, surprised. My smile had already disappeared, but I felt a bit caught. After all, I had been listening in. Mizuno’s eyes followed Bokuto’s gaze, and now she was looking at me too.

“Akaashi, help me. Hikari is torturing me again.”, he whined immediately, too loudly. He earned a light hit to the shoulder from her.

“Hey. Quieter.”, she whispered sharply.

“Sorry.”, he said, lowering his voice.

“Besides, I am not torturing you. You asked me if we could study chemistry. All of this was your idea.”, she pointed out openly, before anyone could get the idea that she was actually torturing him.

“That is unfair. You are embarrassing me in front of my friend.”, he said now, sulking a little.

“No. I am making sure he does not think I am heartless.”, she corrected him with a sigh.

He blinked once, then a second time.

“Uh. Yeah, so she is teaching me chemistry right now. She is not heartless.”, he corrected himself.

“I am at least trying. You are actively resisting.”, she muttered quietly afterward.

Bokuto turned to her immediately, looking horrified, and opened his mouth.

“Hey! That was mean. Just like chemistry.”, he said far too loudly again.

“Psst!”, came from another corner.

“Chemistry is neutral. You are just unprepared.”, she shot back after a brief pause.

“See, Akaashi. Totally mean. Help me against her!”, he demanded now, turning back to me.

“I can see you are outnumbered.”, I remarked. He nodded quickly.

“Exactly. That is why I need you.”

Mizuno raised an eyebrow and looked at him in surprise.

“I did not realise this was a battle you needed to win.”, she said.

“Now it is a battle, and I have reinforcements.”, he replied with a grin.

I hesitated. Should I really join them? I was not only a year below them, chemistry was also not exactly my favourite subject. I did not want to impose myself, but I pushed that thought aside quickly. He would not have asked me if it were imposing.

“I will only help if you actually listen.”, I said seriously as I sat down opposite them.

“I will.”, he said far too quickly.

Not a second later, he already started again, trying to talk about something else. Volleyball. Mizuno stopped him before he could get going. She slid an index card toward him, clearly written by her.

“Read.”, she said briefly and turned back to her own sheet. He did as told, but frowned as if he were trying to decipher a foreign language.

“Why-”, he began and broke off again.

“What do you not understand?” , I asked calmly when I saw Mizuno’s look, right on the edge of despair. Even her patience had limits. That was human.

He opened his mouth and closed it again. He seemed to think that alone counted as progress.

“Why does it react like that?” , he finally asked, pointing at the passage. Mizuno explained it once more, remaining calm despite everything. Bokuto listened. Really. For about twenty seconds.

“No. That does not make sense.”, he muttered before Mizuno had even finished speaking.

“Kōtarō, I honestly do not know how else to explain it anymore.”, she admitted.

I leaned slightly over the table and read through the topic. The material was not that difficult. “It is because of the bond energy.”, I began. “Imagine it takes strength to pull it apart.”

Bokuto looked back and forth between Mizuno and me. “Like blocking?” , he asked, almost cautiously.

I nodded.

“Exactly. Just without jumping.”

That, somehow, made sense to him. Mizuno looked at me, surprised but also relieved. She formed a silent “Thank you” with her lips.

That was how it continued. Bokuto asked questions, Mizuno answered, and I stepped in when she could not go any further. Most of the time, I used comparisons from volleyball. That made it easier for him, because volleyball he understood. It worked, even if it was somehow absurd. The strangest part of the whole situation was that I was sitting there, between chemistry formulas and whispered voices, and thinking that this was exactly what cooperation felt like when no one was trying to prove anything.

The system behind all of this worked, but not forever. At some point, Bokuto leaned back.
“I think my brain is done.”, he said tiredly after not understanding something again, this time even with a volleyball comparison.

“Then we take a break.”, Mizuno said without hesitation. She reached into her bag. I expected pens, maybe more index cards, or some book she would start reading. To my surprise, she pulled out a box instead, along with chopsticks. She placed it in front of Bokuto. Then she reached in again, this time taking out an apple and a sandwich. She hesitantly slid the sandwich toward me and kept the apple for herself.

Bokuto stared at the box in front of him, slowly starting to grin again.

“… Hikari? Is that?”, he asked, trying to keep his voice down.

“Eat. Your brain works better when you have had something.”, she said before he could continue.

I was not entirely sure how to react. Why had she slid the sandwich toward me? Bokuto thanked her and opened the box. She had packed him a bento with all kinds of things. It was clearly all homemade. I noticed her glance at me.

“I hope that is okay. Unfortunately, it has some sauce on it. I was not prepared for us to be three.”, she said, almost apologetically. I still did not know how to react. She had given me her sandwich. Of course she had not planned for a third person. But why was it exactly the kind I liked? Did she like it too? Why was this so natural to her?

“It is fine. Thank you.”, I finally managed after a pause that was far too long.

I took it, unwrapped it, and took a bite. It was exactly what she usually brought me after training, just with mayonnaise. The mayonnaise did not make it worse. If anything, it made it better. She ate her apple and did not look up again, her gaze returning to her notes.

When Bokuto finished eating, he closed the box. He was wide awake again.

“Okay, that helped. My brain is back online.”, he said with his usual grin. Mizuno finally looked up.

“It was never offline, just overloaded.”, she corrected him immediately.

“That is the same thing.”, he replied.

“Not quite.”, I added, almost too quietly to hear.

“I have no idea what you just said, but I feel attacked.”, he said right away. Mizuno was already sliding the next index card toward him before he could start an argument.

It went on like that for a while longer, as if it had never been any different. The library slowly emptied. Voices faded, books were put back. Mizuno noticed and closed her book as well.

“That is enough for today. It is already late.”, she said as she started packing up. I checked the time. She was right. It was already 7:00 pm. My bus would arrive in thirty minutes. I should pack up too. Bokuto followed suit, and I started packing as well. I could observe how neatly Mizuno worked. She had a clear system. Bokuto, on the other hand, just threw everything into his rucksack however it fit.

We had everything packed and were just on our way outside toward the school gate.

“Do you want to stay over at my place today?”, Bokuto asked Mizuno, as if it were the most normal thing in the world to do that on a weekday.

“But only if you do not annoy me with volleyball all evening.”, she replied without much thought. Then Bokuto turned to me as well.

“Do you want to come too? We probably still have enough bedding. Then you do not have to take the bus.”

I hesitated. That was too much. Not only for her, but for me as well. I wanted to stick to my plan.

“No. My mum is expecting me.”, I declined. It was not an excuse, even if it probably sounded like one. Well. It kind of was one, but it was true. My mother had probably already cooked, and my sister would surely want me to read to her before she went to bed.

“Mhm. Okay. Then another time.”, Bokuto said with a shrug.

So we kept walking until I had to turn off at an intersection.

“My bus stop is that way.”, I said eventually. We said a brief goodbye, and then they were gone. Suddenly, it was quiet again. I closed my eyes for a moment and took a deep breath. It had been a strange afternoon, but somehow I had liked it. I just did not quite understand why I had liked it. It had not been relaxing, more exhausting. I stood at the bus stop. Ten more minutes until my bus arrived.

My thoughts replayed the afternoon once more. First classes, then the library. My train of thought got stuck on the studying. Or rather, on the break. Mizuno always acted as if everything were self evident. She never demanded anything, but constantly gave. I had already noticed that during training. There was something odd about it to me. Could there really be someone who acted like that without ulterior motives? Had I disturbed her afternoon too much? Those were thoughts I quickly pushed aside again. Mizuno was simply like that, and if I had disturbed her, Bokuto would not have invited me to stay over. I told myself that, trying to calm my thoughts.

Chapter Text

(Akaashi Keiji)

The day was slowly coming to an end. I looked out of the library window and let my thoughts drift.

Over the past few weeks, everything had settled into place. Mizuno at training. Mizuno in the library on free afternoons. Sometimes with Bokuto, sometimes without. I had not really noticed when she had become part of my everyday life, but I saw her constantly. Within a few weeks, she had gone from being an observer in the stands to a fixed part of the team, and yet it did not feel as if I truly knew her. I had conversations with her, but they never really went deep. They were more a means to an end. Professional, or simply functional. With Bokuto, it was easier. He brought energy, conversation that went beyond a brief hello. Of course, there was nothing more to that either. After all, we only knew each other by chance, because we were both connected to Bokuto.

My thoughts kept moving on without me really noticing. Training yesterday had been tough. I could still feel it with every movement. I had clearly overexerted myself. It was a good thing that tomorrow was already Friday. After that, I could relax for two days.

Yet somehow, the feeling would not let go of me that something had been different. I went through the training again in my head. Stretching, conversations, sets. And then I noticed it. I actually had picked something up. Mizuno had talked to Bokuto, not like she usually did. More irritated, almost angry. She had left without him, had not even given him the chance to follow. I tried to remember exactly what had happened.

“Kōtarō, you are not listening to me. Please take care of your hand.”, she had said for the third time already, firm. He nodded, but on the very next hit he did exactly the same thing again. She did not say anything yet. My gaze, as well as the team’s, kept moving back and forth between the two of them. She waited until the break, when she had his full attention. She went up to him, her expression calm. He quickly realised what she wanted and laughed a little as he said, “Ah, everything worked out fine. Do not worry so much.”

I did not know why, but normally something like that should not have upset Mizuno. They had conversations like this all the time. And yet something was different today.

“Bokuto Kōtarō.”, she said in a tone that immediately drew everyone’s attention. Hearing his full name from her was something no one had heard before. Not even Bokuto himself. You could clearly see him freeze.

“Are you serious?”, she asked.

Bokuto was just about to say something when she continued.

“I am not saying this for fun, but apparently you are especially eager to get injured today.”

That was unexpectedly sharp. You could feel it ripple through the entire team. You could tell by the exchanged looks. Everyone was watching now. Everyone knew this was not going to end smoothly. Mizuno was usually calm, balanced. None of us had ever seen her irritated. Truly irritated or angry. We had all thought that was not even possible. That only made the situation more unsettling.

“I am listening.”, he had managed to say, but that only made things worse. She did not raise her voice, but the anger was unmistakable.

“No, you are not. Otherwise you would have adjusted it after the second time already. You only listen to me when it becomes uncomfortable.”, she had said and picked up her bag. We still had a good hour of training left. She had never left early before. Most of the time, she even stayed longer if Bokuto was not finished yet.

“I am done for today. Walk home on your own, Bokuto.”, she had added before leaving. The hall door closed behind her. Not loudly, but decisively.

Bokuto just stared after her in silence. He was still frozen, as if someone had simply pressed pause. The coach’s whistle snapped him out of it. After that, he played terribly. Not even the team could cheer him up again. Training ended early because no one really knew how to continue.

The argument lingered. Not just with me. I could see the uncertainty on the others’ faces. I had seen plenty of arguments before. Loud ones, aggressive ones. But never one that was quiet and still shifted so much. Even now, I could still feel the discomfort when I thought back to it. I just did not understand why it stayed so present for me.

Even today, I had not seen the two of them together anywhere. If anything, only separately. Bokuto had come over to me during the break, but he had not mentioned the argument even once. That, too, was unusual. Bokuto normally could not stop talking about things like that. If he had an argument with his sister, everyone knew about it. I did not bring it up myself either. It was not my place. Whatever was between him and Mizuno was their matter.

My gaze moved away from the window and wandered briefly across the library. Mizuno had not been there today at all. I had not been looking for her, but she was part of the routine, and when something like that was missing, you noticed. The library was slowly emptying. It was already late in the afternoon. I decided to head off as well. I put my book back on the shelf, made a mental note of where it was for next time, and took my bag. One last time, my attention drifted to the table where Mizuno always sat. It stayed empty. The entire afternoon. As if it were her personal table rather than a public one anyone could use. Somehow, that bothered me without me really realising why. I forced myself to look away and walked past the table, out of the library.

The corridor leading to the school exit was long and lined with various displays. Whoever had designed the school building back then had clearly wanted the library to be hidden. At least, I could not explain otherwise why the way there was so complicated. I still remembered last year, when I had searched for the library for the first time. Back then, I had gotten lost in the building, and one of my classmates had to help me find my way back out. An elite school really was something else. By now, though, I knew the route well. First past the staff rooms, then the computer room, and finally the music room.

I had just turned the next corner, barely past the computer room, when I heard a quiet melody. My steps slowed unconsciously the closer I got to the sound. It was a violin. Clear and unmistakable, coming from the music room just around the corner. The melody was calm, gentle. My head, which had been filled with too many thoughts before, suddenly fell silent. My focus rested solely on the violin playing. My feet carried me forward, even if only slowly. When I was next to the music room, I did not even realise at first that I had stopped. The door to the room was slightly ajar, but it was enough. The sound of the violin filled the entire corridor with a warmth I could not properly describe. It sounded emotional, but not angry. More soothing, gentle, careful. Like an approach taken slowly and thoughtfully. My breathing grew calmer, and I leaned lightly against the wall. Without meaning to, I pushed the door open a little further. I had to see who was playing.

My eyes widened slightly. The room was bathed in the warm light of the evening sun. I could make out a person standing there, a sheet of music in front of them, though they were not looking at it at all. Their eyes were closed, their entire focus on the melody alone. The person standing there was Mizuno. I only truly realised it when I consciously took a closer look at her. School uniform, a loose braid, a violin tucked beneath her chin. Her movements were not hurried, but controlled. Every note was precise. At some point, though, she opened her eyes a fraction. I could tell that she had noticed me, yet neither her posture nor her calm changed. She played the piece to the end without any alteration, as if she had already expected someone to be listening once she opened her eyes.

She played the final note and then slowly lowered the violin. She smiled softly at me.

“You can open the door properly if you want to listen.”, she said.

 I hesitated at first, then opened it further.

 “Did you like it?”, she asked.

At the latest then, I knew that she had already realised I had been listening for a while. I nodded slightly.

“Yes, it was somehow…” I paused, needing a moment to think about how to describe it properly.

"Calming?", she finished my sentence.

“That is the point.”, she said and put the violin back into its case.

“You play well.”, I said simply, because I did not want the silence to turn awkward. As I said it, a thought surfaced again. When I had picked up her notebook back then, there had been a line about giving one final concert if she had the illness. Did that mean she gave violin concerts? I did not ask. That was too personal, but the thought lingered.

“Thank you. I have been playing since I was little. Probably about eight years now.”, she replied with a light laugh.

“I play to organise my thoughts. It helps.”, she added.

“You can hear that. The melody changed the whole room.”, I said before I could think about it. She had to grin a little.

“That is what I want to achieve. It is meant to touch people and calm them.”

I noticed how casually she spoke, as if this were completely normal for her.

“Music is a kind of retreat for me. I can express myself without words.”, she continued, letting her hand brush lightly over the violin.

We stood there quietly for a moment. My gaze drifted to the open violin case, then back to her. Somehow, it suited her that she played the violin. Eventually, she cleared her throat softly and looked to the side, a little embarrassed.

 “Well… I also wanted to apologise about the other day. I did not mean for everyone to witness my outburst. I am sorry if it made things uncomfortable.”, she said apologetically.

For a moment, my mind blanked. That was probably the last thing I had expected. I blinked once, then gathered myself again. An outburst? That had not been an outburst. I thought of the times Bokuto shouted around. Those were outbursts.

“It is fine. Everyone has arguments sometimes. That happens.”, I replied after a pause that was a little too long.

She did not say anything right away, but then took a deep breath.

“No. I do not argue. Especially not with Kōtarō. I was simply overwhelmed.”, she said more seriously now.

“I still need to apologise to Kōtarō. He is probably already worried.”, she added. I was slightly surprised by that statement. Most people would have assumed that he had to apologise to her. For her, though, it seemed natural that she would do it herself. She did not expect him to come to her. She took the step on her own. I noticed that I almost admired her for that, but I pushed the feeling aside again quickly.

Before I could say anything else, she closed the violin case and picked it up.

 “I should get going. It is late.”, she said and took a step, then paused briefly.

“You are heading the same way, are you not? Do you want to walk together?”, she asked, smiling again. For her, the topic from before was clearly already finished. She did not dwell on it any further.

I hesitated briefly.

“Uh. Yes, I would like that.”, I said and walked over to her. We walked side by side toward the school exit. It was quiet, but the silence was not uncomfortable. On the contrary, it was somehow calming.

“Was the library very full today?”, she started the conversation after a while.

“Not more than usual.”, I replied quickly. Was that an attempt to bridge the silence? Wait. How did she know I had been there?

“Were you reading that book on emotional intelligence again?”, she continued. It did not feel like small talk. It felt like genuine interest.

 “Yes. But I did not finish it.”, I replied. I tried not to show my surprise that she had remembered.

We walked on for a while, talking more about books and the library, until we reached the intersection again. She stopped first. She had remembered.

“You turn here, right? Do you want me to walk you to the stop?”, she asked without hesitation. It was unusual to have someone who communicated so openly and directly, without overthinking it. Bokuto was like that too, yes, but in a different way.

I shook my head.

“It is fine. Thank you, though.”, I said. She smiled calmly.

“I should be thanking you. It was nice talking to you. Thank you for listening.”, she said, then said goodbye and walked off.

I stayed where I was for a moment. That thank you had caught me so off guard that I needed a second to collect myself. She was right. It had been pleasant talking to her, even if she had spoken more than I had.

Chapter Text

(Mizuno Hikari)

The table was clearly too small for eight people. We had realized that quickly. First our mothers had left, then Reina, Bokuto’s older sister. Now there were only five of us left. My gaze moved once around the table.

Me, Bokuto, my father Takashi, Bokuto’s father Masahiro, and Bokuto’s oldest sister Mio.

My father placed another bill on the table. He was calm, almost casual about it. Bokuto’s father, Masahiro, grinned broadly and did the same, though with a bit more emphasis. “Brave for someone who has been losing for three rounds now.”, he teased, laughing. I looked at my cards and wondered, for the umpteenth time, how I had even ended up here.

I knew that family afternoons were never really family afternoons. At least not with us. Whenever my father alone said that he had planned an afternoon with Masahiro, everyone knew it was going to be terrible. Last time they had dragged us fishing. The time before that, camping. It was always something different, always something that completely spiraled in the end. Everything turned into a friendly competition or total chaos. Sometimes it was genuinely exhausting. When he said this time it was going to be a nice, quiet afternoon with board and card games, I should have known better.

I looked up from my cards, took a bill as well, even though I did not have much left, and added it to the pile. “You two.”, I began calmly. “I am about to have no allowance left.”, I added. There had to be around eighty thousand yen on the table by now. I had stopped counting. Thinking about how much money that was made me feel uneasy. My father smiled calmly at me. “Your problem. You could have dropped out when the stakes were still smaller.”, he replied dryly. “This is how you learn responsibility.”, Masahiro added.

“I handle responsibility better than the two of you.”, I shot back. The two men just laughed.

My gaze shifted to Bokuto. He was staring at his cards as if that might somehow make them better. He had already bet all of his allowance too. He stayed quiet, but one look at his face was enough to know that his hand was terrible. If he even understood that the things in his hands were poker cards. He definitely did not have a poker face.

Mio, Bokuto’s sister, tossed her cards onto the table. “Forget it. You old guys are crazy. I am out.”, she said. She stood up and followed our mothers and Reina into the kitchen. Laughter drifted out from there, the sound of one glass clinking against another. Of course. Wine in the middle of the day. Masahiro leaned back comfortably. “Alright, kids. Go ahead and drop out. More money for me.”, he said, laughing.

“In your dreams, you owl.”, my father shot back provocatively. Same as always with those two. Like children themselves.

It came to the reveal.

My father showed his hand first. Full house. That was more than he had had in the previous rounds. “So, who is still laughing now?”, he asked, already almost certain he had won. Then Bokuto revealed his cards. Nothing special. Something that got him nowhere. After that, it was Bokuto’s father’s turn. He stood up confidently and tossed his cards onto the table. “Ha. Straight flush. That beats you, ‘kashi.”, he said, already celebrating. I cleared my throat lightly. Eyes turned to me. I laid my hand down. Royal flush. The room went quiet for a moment.

Bokuto’s father just stared at the cards with a blank expression. Then, after a few seconds, my father failed to suppress a laugh. “What the-”, Masahiro started, then choked in shock. I could not hide a small grin and reached for the money.

“Kashi, what did you raise there?”, Masahiro asked my father, stunned.

“Talent.”, he replied dryly.

I counted the money quickly. Ninety thousand yen. More than I had expected. More than I was comfortable with. I split the money and slid half of it over to Bokuto under the table. Not because I thought he needed it. I just did not want to deal with guilt later.

“Huh. What-”, he looked down in confusion, then broke into a wide grin as he took it.

I pocketed the rest and stood up. “I am going to Sakura Mart. Feel free to play the next round without me.”, I said. I needed a break from poker. Knowing the two of them, they would definitely play another round just to see who would come out on top this time. Masahiro had no objection to me leaving, considering he had just lost a fair amount of money to me. Bokuto looked at me and stood up as well. No words were needed to know he was coming with me. I asked the room if anyone wanted anything, but everyone declined. Fine by me.

We put on our shoes and jackets and headed out. I hurried, wanting to prevent our fathers from changing their minds. When the door closed behind us, I let out a deep breath. Bokuto grinned broadly.

 “You are so cool. The way you cleaned my dad out!”, he said as we walked.

 “I just revealed my cards.”, I replied.

The path was familiar. We walked it often enough that I knew it by heart. Around the corner there was a bench, next to it a park with a small pond, then a turn, and after that we were already there.

As so often, we stopped in front of the vending machine. Bokuto liked to check if there was anything new.

“I really thought I had a chance that round.”, he said, leaning a little closer to the machine.

“You did not.”, I replied fairly quickly.

“You said that way too fast.”

“But I am right.”

“You are mean.”

“I am honest.”

He muttered something unintelligible, then recovered. There did not seem to be anything new, because he moved on without buying anything. Bokuto kept talking about how the poker game had gone. Then he went quiet for a moment, looking at his bag, where he had put the money earlier. I glanced at him, confused.

 “What is it?”

“Hey, why did you split the money with me? Not out of pity, right?”, he asked hesitantly. I narrowed my eyes slightly.

“Huh? No. Is that not obvious?”, I asked, but he just blinked at me.

“Because you lost all your allowance. I won it, and because I do not want you to be broke, I gave you half of the winnings. Otherwise I would have to pay for everything from now on.”, I explained matter of factly.

“So it was pity.”, he said, grinning.

“No.”

“Oh yeah? Then what, kindness?”

“Definitely not. That was just logic.”, I tried to make it clear.

“No. I like the version where you are being nice better.”, he said, clearly just to annoy me.

“Think whatever you want.”, I shot back.

We walked on a bit. The shop was already in sight. I was already thinking about what I wanted. Something small. Something savory. We went inside, the familiar chime of the door greeting us. As always, Mr. Kobayashi was sitting at the register and grinned at us.

“Hey. Did not expect to see you. I thought you had the afternoon off today.”, he said, taking the cigarette out of his mouth.

 “We do. But we wanted to grab something to eat.”, Bokuto explained immediately.

 “We are escaping from our fathers.”, I added, moving between the shelves.

I could hear Bokuto in the background, telling him how I had won the poker round. Mr. Kobayashi had played poker with our fathers before, so he knew exactly what kind of chaos that was. I only heard him say,

 “That kid really has talent. She definitely did not get that from her father.”

At some point, Bokuto came over to stand next to me and looked at the shelves as well

 “I think I want something sweet today. Or maybe savory?”, he wondered out loud. I grabbed a small basket, because I knew exactly how this was going to end. He kept impulsively reaching for random things. First Pocky, then chocolate cookies right next to it. When he already reached for the next item, I quietly put the chocolate cookies back. He was distracted and did not notice. It went on like that. At some point, I did it automatically. I did make sure, though, that the things that actually made sense stayed in the basket.

The door bell rang, but we barely paid attention to it. We turned another corner and suddenly there was someone right in front of me. I almost ran into him, because I had not expected anyone to be standing there. I stopped just in time. What did happen was that I flinched slightly, startled. My eyes traveled up the person. He was wearing a blue T-shirt with a design of an owl sitting on a volleyball. Next to it, a slogan: Observation is key. I caught the smell of detergent. Then I looked at his face. Akaashi. Our gazes met, and for a brief moment I thought: That T-shirt is surprisingly fitting. He looked just as startled, though maybe only for a few seconds.

“Akaashi! What are you doing here?”, Bokuto asked enthusiastically.

“I am shopping.”, he replied dryly and stepped a little to the side, creating enough distance between him and me again.

“Yeah, but you do not even live nearby.”, Bokuto said right away. I walked past Akaashi and placed our items on the counter in front of Mr. Kobayashi.

“That does not mean I am not allowed to shop here, does it?”, he shot back.

The items were scanned and paid for. Mr. Kobayashi packed everything into a bag and handed it to me. Then he reached to the side and placed an onigiri in my hand as well.

“Here. Do not forget about yourself when you are always taking care of that chaos.”, he said.

“I am not. But thank you.”, I replied, smiling slightly.

The old man had given me small things more than once without charging me for them. Over time, he had simply noticed that we usually bought more for Bokuto than for me. Apparently, that stirred something in him. He had once mentioned that I reminded him of his granddaughter. That was probably it. It made me uncomfortable that he just gave me things like that, but when I tried to pay once, he had scolded me. After that, I had no choice but to accept it.

My gaze shifted back to Akaashi and Bokuto. Bokuto was currently pressing something into Akaashi’s hand from a shelf, saying it was tasty and that he had to try it.

“Not everything you like suits my taste.”, Akaashi said and put it back.

“I already have everything I wanted.”

Bokuto looked at his purchase. I did as well. He had a can of black coffee, a salmon onigiri, and a vanilla pudding that came with a small spoon. Not much, but somehow it fit him. He went to pay.

Bokuto sucked in a sharp breath.

“Man, Akaashi, do you want to eat all of this together in the park? The park is right next door!”, he exclaimed enthusiastically. Akaashi hesitated, glanced briefly at his purchase, then nodded in agreement.

“We can do that.”, he replied calmly.

I wondered if he was really okay with it. The hesitation suggested he might have had something else planned. Over the past few weeks, I had noticed that he followed a very fixed routine. Always the same bus time, always the same seat in the library. I could not blame him. I liked structure too. After all, I always sat in the same spot in the library as well.

Bokuto cheered a little and ran outside. Akaashi threw me a brief look and then followed him. I said goodbye to Mr. Kobayashi and went after them as well.

Outside, I walked a short distance behind the two of them.

“What kind of T-shirt are you wearing again? You never wear the one I got you for your birthday.”, Bokuto said to Akaashi as he examined the shirt more closely.

“The one you gave me is not my style.”, he replied.

“But this is? That is an owl with a volleyball.”, Bokuto shot back. I had to smile a little, but did not comment. I remembered how proudly Bokuto had shown me that shirt back then. It had been white, with some slogan about setters that sounded more like a motivational speech.

Bokuto turned around toward me and slowed his pace a little. Akaashi adjusted as well. Bokuto clearly wanted me walking next to them again. I sped up slightly and moved to walk alongside the two of them. When we reached the park, we sat down at a table. I set the food down. Milk tea for Bokuto, black tea for me. Way too many snacks. Akaashi put his things down as well. I opened my drink and took the onigiri. It was salmon, just like Akaashi’s. As I bit into it, I could feel myself being watched. Or rather, I noticed Akaashi looking at my onigiri. I wondered if he was surprised that I had the same one.

Bokuto noticed the look.

“You two have the same onigiri.”, he pointed out. I swallowed and then replied, “Yeah. So? Salmon is reliable.”

Bokuto frowned, as if I had just said something that made no sense to him.

“Reliable is a weird reason to pick food.”, he said, opening the pack of Pocky.

“Reliability is good.”, Akaashi murmured quietly.

“Exactly. And besides, I did not pick it. Mr. Kobayashi gave it to me.”, I corrected him. 

Bokuto gasped dramatically. “That is unfair. He always gives you something for free. Never me.”

“We also always buy enough for you.”, I shot back, glancing at the pile of things in front of him.

Akaashi smiled a little, which of course did not escape me. I did not comment on it, but it surprised me slightly. He did not smile very often, I thought. He really could do it more.

“Akaashi, is that not bitter?”, Bokuto asked when he saw him take a sip of the black coffee.

“A bit. But it works.”, Akaashi explained and took a bite of his onigiri.

“You are just like Hikari. She always drinks that bitter black tea.”, Bokuto said, sipping his sweet milk tea.

“You have just never had really good black tea. Besides, there is black tea in your milk tea too.”, I countered now, grinning slightly at him.

“But it does not taste like that.”, he said, horrified, staring closely at the can in his hand.

We got caught up in small things. We talked about what milk tea was made of, then about the fact that Bokuto simply had no sense of taste, and about how salmon was a good choice for many different dishes.

Bokuto was the first one to finish, even though he had the most. I was next. Akaashi was still eating his pudding.

“You really eat slowly, like you have to think about every bite.”, Bokuto criticized him at some point.

“I just do not shovel my food down like you do.”, Akaashi replied dryly.

“He is right. You should learn to eat more slowly.”, I agreed and stood up to throw the trash away.

“Hey, what is that supposed to mean? I eat normally!”, he called after me.

“Keep telling yourself that.”, Akaashi said now. He had finished eating as well.

“You two are a mean combo.”, Bokuto muttered, a little offended.

“Then maybe you should look for new friends.”, I suggested.

“What? No, that is not what I meant!”, he reacted quickly.

I laughed softly. It just slipped out without me thinking about it. Akaashi looked at me briefly, but did not say anything. I noticed it and saw how he opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it again.

Only now, when I glanced at the clock in the park, did I realize how late it had gotten.

 “Oh. We should probably head back soon. Otherwise my mother will think we got kidnapped.”

Bokuto looked at the time as well.

“Oh damn. It is almost dinner already, and now I am not even hungry anymore!”, he complained.

“Your own fault. You should not have taken so much.”, I scolded him. We started a small argument. Nothing serious, more playful than anything.

“I should get going too.”, Akaashi interrupted us. 

Bokuto immediately went quiet and blinked once.

“Are you sure? You could come with me.”, he suggested right away.

“No, it is fine. I still have something else to do.”, Akaashi declined.

He had always declined when he was asked to come along. I wondered if that meant anything. Not that Bokuto was being too pushy. He often was, even if he never meant it badly.

“Then fine. But we should definitely do this again! That was fun!”, Bokuto said. He never spared a thought for whether he was being intrusive. That was remarkable.

“Do what again?”, I asked, a little confused.

“Well, this. Hanging out. The three of us doing something.”, he explained.

I thought about it and then said, “Yeah. Maybe.” Akaashi agreed as well. “I am fine with that.”

At the park exit, we said our goodbyes. Akaashi had to go in the other direction to reach his bus stop. This time, I did not ask whether we should walk him there. He seemed like he wanted to be alone for a bit.

On the way back, I thought about the meeting. The afternoon had not gone as planned, but it had not been bad. I smiled without realizing it. Bokuto must have noticed, because he nudged me in the side.

“You are smiling a lot today. That is really unusual. You could do that more often.”, he said.

My eyebrow lifted slightly in surprise. “Huh?”, I made a small sound. It must have sounded a little annoyed, because he immediately backtracked.

“Haha. Forget it.”, he said quickly and changed the subject.

He was probably right. I had smiled more today than usual.

Chapter Text

(Akaashi Keiji)

Damn.

I set the ball to Bokuto and took a deep breath. My hand tensed once, then I loosened it again. That was inconvenient, I thought, and ignored it. I tried to push my thoughts somewhere else, away from the pain. My mind searched for something and found it. I slipped into a review of the past few weeks. First the meeting in the music room, then the chance encounter at Sakura Mart. My thoughts slowly fell into order, even though it became harder with every contact with the ball.

After the meeting in the music room, Mizuno had shown up at training again. She had made up with Bokuto. Back then, she had stood in front of the whole team and apologized for her behavior. The team had been confused, but they accepted it without much hesitation. More than that, they had forced Bokuto to apologize to her as well. 

After that, training had returned to normal. Everyone knew their place again, as if nothing had happened. As if a knot had come undone. Mizuno was back at the sideline, writing down observations, correcting things when necessary with short, factual remarks that never felt intrusive. During breaks, she went over posture and movements with us in detail. During play, she occasionally pulled someone out who clearly needed a break. The team went to her without hesitation, asked her directly for help or advice.

Washio had once asked her about shoulder exercises, and Konoha about a pulling sensation in his knee. No one hesitated when she said something. Bokuto listened to her more as well. After the argument, he had become more careful and paid attention to everything she said. Unfortunately, he was still corrected the most. Not because he was particularly bad or because she wanted to get back at him after the argument. No. He was simply distracted as always, overdid things, or slipped into his depressive mode. She knew exactly how to react to all of it. Sometimes a short sentence was enough. His name. Sometimes just a look. Again and again, I could see how well she knew him. It did not surprise me. I could already guess that they had known each other for a long time, judging by the way they interacted.

Shit.

Just as my thoughts had finally fallen into order, that unpleasant pain flared up again. The ball landed in my hand, and this time I set it to Konoha, even though Bokuto was loudly calling for it. I eased the strain on my finger a little, but it barely helped. My index finger had been giving me trouble for the past few days. At first, it had been a pulling sensation. Now it was pain with every contact with the ball. I swallowed it down. It was not bad enough yet to act on it. The ball was gone, and with it, the pain.

Without much effort, my mind drifted somewhere else again. This time, to Sakura Mart. The chance encounter. I had planned that afternoon differently, but it had not been bad that things had changed. Eating together had been good. The park had been neutral ground. It had been surprisingly fun, something different from the usual library or training. I went through it again, but my thoughts stalled involuntarily at Mizuno’s laughter. Had I ever seen her laugh before? No. That had been the first time. Before that, it had always been a smirk, a small smile. I did not quite understand why my thoughts got stuck there. Probably because it had been something unusual.

My mind jumped again, back to my observations during training. Only now did I realize how often I actually watched her. I had quickly understood that her gaze was never on the ball. That had been clear early on. But during training, it became obvious. Her eyes were on arms, shoulders, landings, swings. I noticed how my eyes followed hers.

Onaga. One step, she wrote something down. What had been different about that step? I had broken my head over it until I later saw how Onaga grimaced while running. He had landed at an angle. I realized how small some of her observations were, and how much weight they carried later on. With myself, I paid more attention to playing better, staying clean and precise. The thought that she might be watching me and writing something down made me feel… not nervous, but a little uncertain.

The next rally came. The ball flew toward me, and this time I played it without putting strain on my finger. The set came out a bit short. "Sorry, that one’s short.", I called, but my hitters still turned it into a good attack. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Mizuno look at me and write something down. I knew exactly that she had noticed. I had not wanted to go to her because of this. Not out of pride. I had simply thought it was not urgent yet. But now that I knew she had seen it, I had to. I just did not want her to be the one to come to me first. It was easier if I took the first step.

I was subbed out for Anahori, not because I was doing a bad job, but because he needed to practice setting just as much. He was still a first year. If he was ever going to be subbed in during a tournament, he had to be able to run the offense properly, especially with Bokuto. I was grateful for the short break. It gave my finger a moment to rest, even if it also meant that I now had to go over to Mizuno.

My gaze drifted to her. She was still fully focused on the court. Just to check, I tensed my finger again, but the pain was there immediately, impossible to ignore this time. Hesitantly, I walked up next to Mizuno. She was so concentrated that she did not notice me at first. My eyes moved over her shoulder to the notebook in front of her. I skimmed through the notes.

           -Blockout: intentionally hit against the block, ball lands out of bounds.
           -Lots of nonverbal communication.
           -Libero is not allowed to serve? Also does not receive sets. Defense only?

That note surprised me. I had expected her to know more about volleyball, considering how constantly she was around Bokuto. My eyes moved further down the page.

           Konoha: knee is slowly improving, gradually increasing load. Continue to monitor.

           Washio: shoulders less tense, exercises are helping.

Further to the side, at the margin, there was another note. This one had nothing to do with the players or volleyball.

           Coach Yamiji: limping for a few days now, right hip seems to be causing problems. Rejects any kind of help. Stubborn.

           Kōtarō: removed tape again when I was not looking. Warning -> if that fails, heavier measures -> father.

I had to suppress a smirk when I read that. It sounded exactly like him. I briefly remembered how he had torn the tape off his hand, saying it slowed down his power.

At the very bottom, I saw my name. That made me pause.

           Akaashi: Problems with left index finger for a few days now. Pain seems stronger today.

                        Will not come on his own -> bring it up during the break. 

                        No longer putting load on finger, sets seem to be suffering because of it.

Something tightened in my chest as I read that. Of course she had noticed. But the way she wrote it down, so precise, was almost unsettling. Her powers of observation were better than I had thought. She had even noticed that my setting was affected. I must have made some kind of sound without realizing it, because she stopped in the middle of writing another comment.

“You are reading.”, she stated without looking at me. My gaze immediately shifted away from her notebook and back to the court.

“Unintentionally.”, I replied hesitantly.

She finished writing her sentence and then closed the notebook. “There is no such thing as unintentional reading.”, she said calmly. Not sharp. Not lecturing. It was simply a fact to her. I was a little surprised by how little I felt like defending myself. Normally, I would have said something back, countered it somehow. With her, though, I did not feel the need to.

She looked up at me now, then at my hand. “If you are finally coming over to me, you can also show me your finger.”, she said, smiling slightly. It was not an accusation. At least, it did not sound like one.

I looked down at my hand as well. At the finger that had been a problem the entire time, one I had kept pushing aside because I thought it was not important enough. Standing in front of her now, I could feel that I should have come earlier.

“Sit down.”, she said, as if she had heard my thoughts. I did, without resisting.

“You know it is the index finger.”, I said eventually. It sounded more defensive than I had intended. Almost like I was trying to justify why I was even sitting here.

She did not react to that. No nod. No “I know.” Instead, she just looked at me calmly and sat down next to me.

“Explain it to me anyway.”, she said.

“It is not constant pain. At first it was just a pulling sensation. Since today, it is a sharp pain when I put pressure on it. Sometimes it is brief, sometimes it lasts longer. It is not strong, but… present.”, I explained while she listened in silence. I showed her my finger, pointed to the spot where it hurt the most. “It pulls the most here. I tried to take pressure off it, but I do not feel like it is helping much.”, I added.

“That is because you are taking pressure off it the wrong way.”, she said matter-of-factly.

“May I take a look myself?”, she asked after that. I nodded briefly and held my hand out to her. She took it carefully, as if it might break if she moved too quickly. Her fingers felt warm. Pleasant. She moved my fingers gently, brushed over the joint.

“Tell me if it hurts-”, she began, then stopped. She had moved it just a little too far. The pain was clear and unmistakable. I sucked in a breath. I could not hide that it hurt.

“I am sorry.”, she said immediately and loosened her grip.

“It is fine.”, I replied.

She continued to examine my hand, her gaze shifting from my index finger to my middle finger. She moved it, checked it. “I am going to check the middle finger as well. Often people shift the load there, and that risks a second finger starting to hurt too.”

I nodded as she said that. It made sense. Of course it did. She reached into her bag, which was not far from us, and pulled out white tape. She seemed to measure how much she needed, where to start, how to do it properly. Then she began stabilizing my finger, wrapping the tape around it carefully but with practiced ease.

“Have you eaten anything proper today?”, she suddenly asked. The question was so casual that it threw me off for a moment.

“Yes. I had a set meal in the cafeteria at lunch.”, I told her.

“I brought something for later. I hope you still have room in your stomach.”, she said, tearing off the tape. She was finished.

“Oh… yeah. I should.”, I replied quickly. “Thank you.”, I added.

“So, you should probably get back to training now. We are done.”, she said, lifting her gaze from my hand.

At the same moment, my eyes moved up as well. Our gazes met, and we were closer than I had expected. I must have leaned forward unconsciously while she was taping my finger. In her eyes, I could see a brief flicker of surprise. She had not expected it either. I quickly created some distance so it would not turn awkward.

“Sorry.”, I said.

“It is fine. You were watching.”, she stated, then stood up. “The tape should stabilize your finger. But if I were you, I would not overdo it. If it gets worse, come to me right away.”, she added.

She paused briefly and looked toward the court, where the team was still on break. “Sometimes it is better to come right away. Better once too early than too late.”

She did not have to say more. I understood what she meant. If I had waited any longer, it would not have been solved with tape alone.

“Thanks for taping it. I will come straight to you next time.”, I said, then went back to the others.

In the next rally, I noticed immediately that the tape actually helped. It did not hurt anymore. I had expected the tape to bother me, but I barely noticed it while playing. My sets were better again. No balls falling short because of pain or poor positioning.

Training continued without any further incidents and was eventually ended by the coach’s whistle. Officially, it was over, but Bokuto absolutely wanted to hit a few more balls. His motivation carried the entire team with him, so we all stayed in the gym for another hour. At some point, Mizuno disappeared when no one was looking. No one really noticed except me. I wondered where she had gone, but just as I was about to think more about it, she was back. She had picked up another bag and placed it at the edge of the court.

“Alright, that is enough for today. You still need to stretch.”, she said and clapped her hands.

A glance at the clock was enough for everyone to agree. It was too late to keep going any longer. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Bokuto trying to slip away. Stretching was definitely not his favorite part. Mizuno noticed as well and reached him before he could escape. She grabbed him by the collar, not hard, but firm.

“You are doing it too.”, she said seriously.

He froze, then let out an exaggerated sigh. “I was going to-”, he started, but did not get to finish.

Mizuno cut him off. “Sit down.”

He sat down without any further resistance.

“So, I noticed a few things today that we should balance out right away. That is why I thought I would show a couple of exercises using Bokuto, and then there will be something small to eat.”, she suggested and looked around at the group.

Bokuto looked like he wanted to say something, but one sharp look from her was enough to silence him. He probably wanted to complain about why it had to be him specifically. The team agreed easily. Not just because there would be food afterward, but because most of them appreciated being shown new exercises. Everyone was eager to learn. Well, almost everyone.

She demonstrated the first exercise and explained what we should pay attention to. Bokuto followed her instructions and pulled a face as if she were personally wronging him.

“That really pulls.”, he complained.

“Then you are in the right spot.”, she replied immediately.

“Cruel.”

“Precise.”

Even though he clearly did not like it, he held the position, counted along, and did every exercise she told him to do. He kept complaining, but he did not stop. No one joked about it being pointless. No one argued when she explained a new stretch.

When we were done stretching, she took her bag and walked through the group. Everyone got a sandwich, as always. Even the first-years this time. I watched as she handed them out. No mini sandwiches anymore. She had finally found the perfect combination for them. Everyone thanked her.

Anahori stared at his sandwich for a moment, then unwrapped it and took a bite. He hesitated, then said in surprise, “This is exactly what I like.”

Onaga agreed immediately. Neither of them had expected it. Just like I had not back then.

By now, Mizuno was sitting next to Bokuto, smiling slightly.

“Coincidence.”, she said simply.

Konoha grinned slightly. “It is supposed to be a coincidence that we all always get exactly what we like?”, he asked now, raising an eyebrow.

“That is a pattern. I remember getting mini sandwiches a few times, only to end up with a big one that was perfect.”, Sarukui pointed out.

Bokuto laughed a little. “Of course it is perfect. She even has a list of your-”, he said, but did not get to finish.

Mizuno covered his mouth. “Kōtarō!… I do not have a list. I am just attentive.”, she corrected him quickly.

It had been too fast to look subtle. The team laughed a bit, but let it go at that. The conversation afterward was relaxed, and the energy slowly returned to everyone thanks to the sandwiches. Once everyone was done eating, we said goodbye one by one. Some left right away, others a bit later.

I stayed in the locker room a little longer and looked at my finger again. The tape sat well, and as I looked at it, I only then realized how light everything had felt in the moment she had taped it. Not the taping itself had been light, but the moment of being with her. I had not felt like a burden. Not like I was bothering her. I wanted to go to her again next time. The thought of taping it myself had disappeared completely.