#Jt1M

[notsuchasecret]

A Third, Please

Ao3

#3: SakuAtsu meet uglies. It seems to me that most of y'all don't know just how bad of an obsession that I have with these two losers. Like, the Chaos Incarnate chat knows, and Haz knows, but outside of them, I feel like y'all have no idea. So here. A meet ugly for this challenge.

When Osamu had told Atsumu he'd set him up with a guy "about ten thousand miles outta yer league, yer welcome, scrub", Atsumu had been, of course, skeptical. And then he'd gone on the date and realized that Osamu had been understating just how gorgeous this guy was. And then the date had gone horribly, disastrously wrong. Like, Atsumu had never been on such a miserable date, wrong. Like, Atsumu wanted to change his name and flee the country, wrong. Like, Atsumu was never going to emerge from the pits of despair this date had left him in, wrong. He shuffled into the apartment he shared with his brother, sopping wet and miserable.

"I'm home," he whined, doing his best to peel his soaked sneakers off his feet. Osamu glanced up from the couch, then did a double take.

"Yer soaked," he said.

"Great observation skills ya got there," Atsumu muttered, but it was all the retaliation he could come up with. He just shook his head and squelched down the hall toward the bathroom. When he returned, considerably dryer and a hell of a lot warmer, he dropped onto the opposite end of the couch from Osamu and stared at the television.

"So I take it that didn't go well," Osamu said. His voice was quiet, feeling Atsumu out and gauging his reactions. Atsumu was too exhausted to really do anything about that just then.

"No," Atsumu said dully. "It didn't go well."

Osamu studied Atsumu for a moment, and didn't say anything else. He simply offered Atsumu the silent comfort of his presence. It was a rare show of support, considering how they would normally pick and pull at each other until they devolved into a shouting match or a fist fight. Which meant that Osamu realized just how miserable Atsumu was.

Atsumu couldn't work up the energy to be grateful. He just let himself sit in his misery, and then in the morning he moved on with his life.

Except.

It was perhaps two, maybe three weeks later when Atsumu received the first text. He wasn't sure why he hadn't deleted the message thread, except to say that it had gotten buried under all his others and he'd just forgotten about it. But when he did receive the message and the name on the contact popped up, it took him a moment of puzzling and a quick scroll through the history to understand what exactly was happening.

GREEN SCARF, DARK HAIR: [So while I was on a date last night it occurred to me that some helpful tips may be what you're needing to stop being a complete disaster and maybe even take someone on a successful date someday. I've compiled some notes for you.]

The typing indicator was going still by the time Atsumu had managed to piece together that this was his blind date being an absolute ass.

ME: [Thanks, but you really don't have to waste your time. Rest assured it was a shitty night for both of us.]

He must have been ignored, because thirty seconds later another message popped up.

GREEN SCARF, DARK HAIR: [First and foremost is this: Check the restaurant's website, at very least. Understand the level of formality involved and dress appropriately. Contrary to popular belief (or whatever it is that was going through the peanut shell that is your brain) joggers and a sweaty track jacket are not acceptable attire for a fine dining establishment.]

Atsumu closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to control the swell of rage rising in him. Sure, he had been underdressed. Osamu wouldn't tell him the name of the restaurant, and dropped him off in person, so Atsumu hadn't had any time to find out of there was a dress code. And in all fairness, the maître d' had let him in the door, so he wasn't that out of place. He simply closed the message thread and swiped to his contacts to change the name. If he answered, it would only serve as encouragement, and Atsumu didn't want or need any more helpful tips. He stuffed his phone in his pocket and put the whole thing out of his mind.

Osamu whistled as soon as Atsumu walked through the door of the studio. "What shat in yer bed today?" he asked.

"Fuck off, Samu," Atsumu groaned. He slumped over to the baby grand in one corner, plunking down on the bench and poking at the keys. "Where's Rin, anyway?"

"Missed his train," Aran answered, fiddling with the tuning pegs on his bass. "He'll be here in fifteen or so." Atsumu grunted. He let his fingers poke along the keyboard of the piano, plucking out a half-thought melody. Beethoven, probably. That was where Atsumu's fingers tended to lead him when he wasn't thinking.

"Atsumu," said Kita, appearing from nowhere beside Osamu's drum kit. "Did ya finish transcribin' that song yet?"

"Ah, yeah, mostly," Atsumu said. He dug his notebook out of his bag, flipping past the half-started doodles and concepts until he reached the song that Suna and Osamu had come up with. "I need Sunarin here ta ask him about this chord progression in the bridge. I couldn't tell where he wanted it ta fall."

Kita nodded, craning his neck to look at the transcription. Atsumu turned the book so that Kita could see it better, listening to the quiet chaos of the band setting up for rehearsal. A buzz in his pocket had him startling, and Kita took the notebook from him before he could throw it. Kita walked away with the notebook and Atsumu let him go as he dug his phone out of his pocket; the notebook was safer in his hands than anyone else's.

GREEN SCARF, DARK HAIR, RUDE AS SHIT: [A bonus tip for you today, courtesy of the absolute dreamboat I went on a date with last night: bickering with the serving staff over their recommendations is not couth, nor will it win you any points with your date. Unless you're counting how much you embarrass them.]

Atsumu rolled his eyes. He knew better. He shouldn't engage with this. But Kita wasn't babysitting him at that moment, too busy chatting with Aran, so Atsumu started typing anyway.

ME: [Tell me, do you get off on being this much of a dick? Like, is it a fetish thing, or were you just not taught how to play nice with the other kids?]

GREEN SCARF, DARK HAIR, RUDE AS SHIT: [I could ask the same of you. Seriously, what was it about that bottle that had you ready to start a physical altercation like that?]

ME: [First rule they teach you in culinary school is never pair a red with seafood. The vintage was fine, but you ordered salmon, and that red had chocolate notes. That should've been paired with a rich desert at the most, but your dinner would've gone much better with white.]

GREEN SCARF, DARK HAIR, RUDE AS SHIT: [You went to culinary?]

ME: [My brother did.]

GREEN SCARF, DARK HAIR, RUDE AS SHIT: [I thought you said he was in that sad excuse for a band with you. I didn't realize either of you would have the intellect required for post-secondary education.]

ME: [See, this conversation was going fine until you said that. Lends weight to my question, you know. Is it a fetish? Because I don't consent in that case.]

Atsumu's phone buzzed again, but just then the doors opened and Suna slouched in, his guitar strapped to his back and his bag swinging idly from his arm.

"'Bout time," Atsumu groaned, stuffing his phone in his pocket.

"Shut up, princess, I got here as fast as I could," Suna said as he set his stuff down. Atsumu just grunted. He stretched his fingers out, playing a couple of arpeggios on the baby grand before he swung out of the bench to go check the setup on his keyboard.

This was where Atsumu belonged. Not some stuffy, pretentious school, not some concert hall, here. This grungy little studio space, where he was totally free. He let himself get lost in the music, and put the asshole with the pretty curls out of his mind.

It couldn't last forever, of course, not with that dickhead insisting on texting him every time he went on a date with more "tips". But for the most part, Atsumu's life went on. Kita managed to secure them a gig at a local festival, the kind where bands had a tendency to be discovered. It was a far cry from the dive bars they'd been playing, but this little farmer's market with the best damn luck for emerging bands was exactly what they had been hoping for. It could be the gig that made them, if they played their cards right, and they only had three months or so to prepare.

Every so often, there was a text that wasn't the most assholeish thing Atsumu had ever read. Once, when Dickweed was presumably drunk off his ass, he even had a genuine conversation with Atsumu about life and dreams and the future. It was then that Atsumu learned just how much they had in common, at least in their personal histories.

But knowing that the unfairly pretty man with the unfairly horrid personality was classically trained on pretty much every string instrument out there didn't take away the fact that Atsumu didn't really have time to dive deep and find out what was underneath all that. Especially when the next day started with a text reminding Atsumu to chew with his mouth closed.

In short, Atsumu was done with dating for now, especially blind dates. Especially blind dates that Osamu set him up on. But networking was the name of the game this early in the band's career, so when Kita said that Atsumu had a lunch to attend with the nephew of the festival's organizer, Atsumu didn't even question it. It didn't occur to him that Atsumu going alone was strange, or that the restaurant that Kita sent him to was a bit intimate for a business meeting, none of it. He just put on a nice shirt, organized notes and song transcriptions into an expanding file in his bag, and let Osamu drop him off at the restaurant about fifteen minutes before he was set to meet his contact.

"What."

Atsumu stood stock still, staring at the table and the man sitting at it. Dark, endless eyes blinked up at him from beneath a curtain of glossy black curls. he didn't look surprised to see Atsumu, but he did scowl at him after a moment.

"Are you going to sit, or not?" he snarled.

"Uh, yes," Atsumu said, and did pull out his chair to perch in it. "Sorry, I'm just a little confused."

"About what?"

"I wasn't expectin' ya to be the person I was meetin'," he said. "Didn't know you had anythin' ta do with the popular music scene."

"Personally, I don't," he answered, squinting at Atsumu.

"But yer aunt is the organizer fer the festival next month," Atsumu said slowly. "Why do I get the feelin' we're here fer two different reasons?"

"Because, in all likelihood, we are," sighed the other. "I asked Komori, my cousin, to see if he could get you to come to lunch with me, to apologize and see about starting over. I take it he did so in some underhanded and convoluted manner, as he so enjoys doing."

"Yer cousin Komori," Atsumu repeated. "Like, Komori Motoya? The head producer fer EJP Record Label?"

"Yeah, that's him."

Atsumu blinked, puzzling for a moment. Then he shook his head. "Well," he said. "No reason we can't do both. If yer aunt wants any info on the band, I've got it, but I don't see why you and I can't have a nice lunch in the meantime." He grinned and stuck out his hand. "Name's Miya Atsumu. Pleasure ta meet you."

"Sakusa Kiyoomi." A large, strong hand gripped his own. "I hope you took notes."

"Yer such an ass," Atsumu laughed. "Half of the stuff that happened last time was not my fault, you know."

"Well, you do look considerably more human this time," Sakusa conceded.

"That's 'cause I dressed myself. I clean up nice, it's okay, you can admit it."

"The insufferable personality, though, that's all on you."

Atsumu cracked a grin, and he could just see how hard Sakusa was fighting to keep from smiling himself.

-

When Komori Motoya had first conspired with his old friend Miya Osamu to fuck with their respective relatives, he hadn't expected this. Weeks of coming home from perfectly good dates with a bitter expression, of pulling out his phone and texting with the biggest pout on his face, of grumbling under his breath about 'stupid, arrogant foxes with their stupid, pretty faces'. He hadn't expected to be begged for a second date, to be bribed into setting one up. And he certainly hadn't expected to come home that day to find Sakusa curled up on their couch with a massive plush fox in his lap, scrolling through the website for Motoya's mom's next festival with a scowl on his face and his credit card in his hand.

"Kiyo?" Motoya asked, cautious.

"They had better be good," Sakusa grumbled. "If I put in all this effort and they aren't even good, I can't do it. I can't date someone tone deaf."

Motoya laughed. "You don't have to worry about that, Kiyo," he said. "They met at Inarizaki, after all."

Sakusa dropped his phone, staring at Motoya with wide eyes. "They what?"

"Inarizaki School of Music. That's where they all went after high school. Atsumu's a prodigy on the piano, but he plays like six other instruments, too. And he sings."

"Fuck. I need a third date."

Motoya smiled, wandering off into his bedroom to the background soundtrack of Sakusa cursing himself, Motoya, Osamu, and especially one Miya Atsumu. It seemed that his time with that band was only just beginning.

[evgenychernyavskiy]

JT1m#¢ #vk #pilotlife #airlinepilot #jet #airlines #Pilot #aviation #vkontakte #airplane https://vk.com/id15800296

[notsuchasecret]

first, a celebration

I've decided, against my better judgment and at the horrible enableationing of a certain @ezzydean, to write and post 365 ficlets this year, again. I've got a nifty little spreadsheet to keep track and everything. Each one of these will be a different sort of funness. Some will be ceated using the random fic generator I made a while back. Some will have to do with specific numbers or prompts. I'm not promising to post every single day, but I will have 365 by the end of the year. This one in particular is *apparently* the poly karasuno bug coming back to bite me once more, so enjoy!

"God damn you, you stupid motherfucking cunt waffle!"

Asahi smiled, not even bothering to open his eyes as the melody of profanity drifted through the house. It was a beautiful sound, the sound of his love and all the happiness she could bring to his life. There was a long pause of silence, long enough that Asahi could fully wake up and realize just how big and empty their bed was.

When she started shouting again, he grinned and threw the covers off.

"What are you cursing at today?" he asked, padding up behind her and wrapping his arms around her waist. He had to stoop to bury his nose in her soft black hair, but it was worth it for the scent of her floral shampoo and the way she leaned back against him with a happy little hum.

"These morons don't know how to play," she groused, and clicked away at her controller some more.

"Why are you playing standing up, you weirdo?" he laughed, and she just shook her head.

"Gotta concentrate," she said, and then immediately shouted, "You fucking piss ant, my grandma could play better than that and she's fucking dead!"

Asahi shook his head with a chuckle and padded off to find himself some coffee. When she finished her round, she shut down the console and followed him into the kitchen.

"Happy birthday," she said, her voice soft and melodious as it always had been. She stepped up behind him, copying the pose he'd used a moment before, and nuzzling between his shoulder blades.

"Thank you, Kiyoko," he said. He patted at her hand until she let him turn around, but she never removed her arms from his waist. "What time does the chaos start?" he asked.

"I told the others to be here around noon, so any time between an hour ago and six this evening," she said. He laughed again, just in time with the pounding of fists on the door. She hummed, swatted him on the ass, then swiped his coffee cup from the counter and nodded toward the door. "Well?" she taunted. "Go on. You know they won't wait for long. They love you too much for that." There was a double meaning in that, but Asahi ignored it for the time being.

"Brat," he laughed, and went to face his fate. As he opened the door and several members of the old Karasuno team tumbled in in a pile, he couldn't help but think that this right here was exactly how he wanted it.

"Asahi-san!" Nishinoya shouted from his spot on the top of the heap. "What the hell are you still doing in your pajamas?"

"Well, Noya, I just woke up, having spent the morning of my birthday lounging in bed, but a certain group of miscreants decided to interrupt me," Asahi huffed, and Nishinoya grinned up at him.

"I don't think they know what the word 'miscreants' even means," Tsukishima drawled. He was the only one who had avoided the pile, and he stood with his hip leaning against the doorway and his arms crossed and a smile on his face.

"Probably not," Asahi agreed, and hauled Nishinoya out of the doorway so that the others could start standing. He counted six: Nishinoya and Tsukishima, Tanaka, Hinata, Kageyama, and buried all the way at the bottom where Asahi hadn't even seen him, Kinoshita, who turned and glowered at Kageyama as soon as he was freed. "Are the others coming here, or are we meeting them?" Asahi asked.

"Daichi-san and Suga-san said they were coming here, but Yamaguchi and Narita-san are picking Yacchan up and meeting us at the shrine," Hinata chirped in answer. Asahi glanced at the clock on the stove and nodded.

"We should probably get going as soon as Daichi and Suga get here, then, to make sure Tadashi and Kazuhito don't break anything," he said.

"You gonna go in your boxers?" Tanaka asked with a waggle of his eyebrows. Asahi glanced down at himself and hummed.

"I would, but you know how I feel about free shows," he answered, turning down the hall to the sound of Tanaka choking on his own laughter. Kiyoko met him in the bedroom, leaning up on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek.

"Are you going to do it this year?" she asked.

"We'll see how the shrine visit goes," he answered. She nodded.

"I'm with you either way."

"I know."

Suga and Daichi were just arriving when Asahi emerged, dressed this time. Suga hadn't removed any of his layers, but at the sight of Asahi coming down the hall, Daichi groaned and started pulling his coat back on.

"Do we have everyone?" Suga asked. "Who's got the child leashes today?"

"It's my birthday, so not me," Asahi said serenely.

"I lived in a foreign country for--"

"Two years, we know, Shouyou," Nishinoya interrupted. "I've set foot on six different continents. It's not gonna stop them from trying."

"You're both so small. We just don't want to lose you in the crowds!" There was absolute innocence in Suga's voice, but they all knew by then not to trust that. Hinata just rolled his eyes and stomped out the front door.

As Asahi walked through the streets toward the nearest shrine, he turned the same thought over and over in his head like a shiny stone. Kiyoko held one of his hands, muttering obscenities under her breath as they walked arm-in-arm, but the other hand was swinging back and forth in Suga's grip. Kinoshita had Noya in a piggyback hold, while Hinata tried to cajole Tsukishima into the same. Tanaka and Daichi were talking in soft tones at the front of the group.

"You know," Suga said, quiet enough that Asahi could pretend not to hear, if he wanted, "It doesn't need to fit in a box. It doesn't need a label that anyone else understands. If it works, it works, and that's all that matters."

Asahi hummed, squeezing his hand. They were just coming up to the shrine, their missing three waiting for them at the bottom of the steps. Asahi took a deep breath of the cold air and looked around at all of them, chattering and laughing and swearing and hanging off of one another, moving in a synchronized orbit like they had for years now. Suga was right, he thought, and smiled. What did it matter what anyone else thought, when he had this? Good fortune was already his, and had been all along. He just had to reach out and take it.

So he did.

[notsuchasecret]

@cattatonically needed a bribe to get her blog post done so here we go! MatsuAi meet cute featuring bffs Ai and Kou you're welcome

"Hey, Kou-san? I think there's something... living... in the back alley."

Aiichirou looked up at the newest part-timer, gripping his broom a little too tightly as he talked to Kou near the doorway of the office. She whirled around to look at him behind the desk but he already had his finger poised on the tip of his nose. "Nose goes," he called.

"I hate you, Ai-kun," she muttered.

"You're the one who instituted that rule," he said serenely. She glared at him, a fierce look that would have lesser - or even just less-desensitized - men cowering before her. He simply blinked, waiting until she huffed and turned on her heel to stalk out the back door. He waited for a count of thirteen before he stood and followed her. It wouldn't do for her to know he cared enough to follow right away, after all. He was here to be entertained, not to protect. Sure. That would work.

When he opened the back door, lazily peering around it, he found her crouching gingerly in front of a pile of boxes stacked against the building across the alley from theirs. She held a wooden spoon in her hand, using the handle to poke gently at...

"Is that a dog?" Aiichirou asked. Kou shrugged, poking at it again. It was a dingy grey, covered in mats and grime. The third time she poked it, it lifted its head and let out a growl.

"Oh, baby," Kou cooed at it. She slipped the spoon back into her apron pocket and reached out to scoop the dog into her arms. It was small, and it grumbled and batted at her, but it was clearly barely functioning.

"I'll go get the car," he said. "Do you want to come with? We could leave Yoshikawa in charge of closing up."

"Which one?" Kou asked.

"The sister, of course. The walking pile of chaos isn't on shift today and you know I wouldn’t leave our baby in his hands."

"Yeah, that would work," Kou said. "You let her know and I'll make sure this little one is warm."

Aiichirou returned to the kitchen to hand over the keys to Karin and leave a few final instructions, then slipped out into the side parking lot to pull the shitty old station wagon he and Kou co-owned around to the mouth of the alley. She had the dog wrapped up in her jacket as she climbed into the passenger seat and buckled in, positioning it on her lap.

"Can you look up the nearest open vet's office?" he asked, handing her his phone. She used her own biometrics to open it, something he had long given up on fighting. She guided him through the quiet suburban streets until they reached a plain white building with a sign outside that had half its letters missing. Aiichirou glanced at it, then back at Kou.

"It has four-point-seven stars, three hundred ratings," she said with a shrug.

"Good enough for me," he said and turned the car off. He held the door open for her as they stepped inside. "Um, hello?" he called, looking around the empty lobby. There were benches and chairs against the walls, posters and adoption flyers on bulletin boards, and the whole place was clean and well-lit, but appeared deserted. Then a voice, low and beautiful, called from the back:

"I'll be out in a moment!"

Kou was already looking at Aiichirou, but he was extremely good at not looking at her when he needed to. Instead, he glanced at an informational poster about a pet health insurance plan, careful to also not look at the nasty heartworms poster next to it. He was doing a perfectly passable job of ignoring everything that was not this one inane poster when the door opened and the voice came again.

"Sorry about that delay," he said, his voice even more musical when no longer muffled by the door and the wall between them. Aiichirou made the worst mistake in his life to date then, including the day he agreed to go in together with Kou on their bakery startup, including the day he allowed Rin to dump Momo on him in order to escape to room with Sousuke in high school, including the time with the strawberry vodka and the stripper pole.

He turned to look.

The veterinarian, if that was who he was, was the most goddamn beautiful man Aiichirou had ever seen in his life. He was tall, his shoulders were broad, his skin was pale, and he was built like he had been sculpted from marble by a master artist. His hair was dark and fell in unruly curls around his ears and across his forehead. Aiichirou was pretty sure he could see a glint of metal here and there, rings in his ears and maybe one in his brow as well. His white lab coat hung in clean lines on his frame and his hands were long-fingered and gorgeous around his clipboard. He looked up and gave Kou and Aiichirou a polite smile and fuck Aiichirou was gay.

"Hi there," Kou said when it became obvious Aiichirou was too busy drowning in homosexual daydreams. "We found this little guy in the alley behind our shop. Do you take walk-ins? We want to make sure they’re okay."

"I'd be happy to," the veterinarian said with another warm smile. "Follow me to an exam room and we'll get the little... one... set up."

Aiichirou followed Kou and the veterinarian back through a set of double doors to a room with a raised metal table and even more informational posters all over the walls. Kou set the dog down on the table and it blinked up at her, clearly smitten in the way that all animals were when they saw her. Aiichirou only just resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Let's see what we have here," the veterinarian said, rolling on a pair of blue nitrile gloves, and—

Nope.

Aiichirou was not going down that road just then. He focused on the dog and on how the veterinarian was so careful when approaching it.

"Well, it looks like you both did the right thing bringing them here," he said. "Definitely in need of a grooming, and they look pretty malnourished. Hard to tell a breed beneath all those mats, but I'd say by the size we're probably looking at a main coon here."

"Isn't that a type of cat?" Aiichirou blurted. Kou turned to him with her eyebrows raised in a way that told him she would absolutely be ridiculing him for this for weeks at the very least, but the veterinarian just nodded.

"You probably suspected dog, am I right?' he asked. Aiichirou nodded, biting his lip and hoping his cheeks weren't as horribly red as they felt. "Yeah, it's hard to tell at first glance, but this is kind of my field," the veterinarian laughed. "But here, you can tell in the paws most easily." Aiichirou stepped closer when the veterinarian held his hand out to invite him up to the table, leaning in. Sure enough, the paw that the veterinarian held up was shaped like a cat's, and when he squeezed gently on the pads a set of ragged, vicious-looking claws extended out, then re-sheathed when he released the pressure. 

"Can you tell if it's injured?" Aiichirou asked.

"I'll have to do a more thorough examination, but it doesn't look like anything too pressing. I'd say they probably need food and warmth, and a bath and a haircut once that's taken care of. Let me grab something for them from the back and we'll see if we can get them more settled."

The veterinarian stepped back through the door and Kou and Aiichirou looked at each other.

"No," Aiichirou said, but Kou was already talking over him.

"If you don't let me, Onii-san finds out all about you swooning over the pretty vet," she said.

"Rin-senpai doesn't scare me," Aiichirou scoffed.

"No, but he'll tell Sousuke-nii, who will tell Mikoshiba-kun, who will tell Momo-kun, who will tell Nagisa-kun, and then you're fucked," Kou said, smiling sweetly at him. "The gossip train starts with Onii-san, but it doesn't end there."

"You're a monster," Aiichirou accused. "Using your powers for evil."

"Yep. Now. Are you going to get his number?"

"I'd settle for his name, to start," Aiichirou said. "And I'm not going to hit on the vet while he's just doing his job."

"Coward."

"Whatever. Did you catch a name?"

"Matsukawa-sensei."

"Yes?" The door was opening and the veterinarian was stepping through once more, holding a tin can in one hand, a bowl and a water bottle wedged in the other. "We'll start with the food," he said. "We don't want the little one getting sick by going too quickly after the water, after all."

"Sounds good," Aiichirou managed. Matsukawa sent him a smile as he set the can in front of the cat and peeled the top off of it.

The effect was immediate. The cat surged forward, slamming face-first into the slop inside the can. It let out a low keening noise as it ate, breaking up with each slurping bite and swallow. It was frankly a disgusting noise, but Matsukawa smiled at it, reaching out to stroke along its spine.

"That's it, sweetheart," he murmured. "You're safe now."

Aiichirou watched in silence as Matsukawa poured some water into the bowl and set it in front of the cat, then began his examination. He talked as he did, mostly to Kou, telling her what he was doing and everything he found along the way. Every now and then he would throw a glance in Aiichirou's direction, but neither of them said anything to each other as he worked. Finally, Matsukawa leaned away.

"I can give you the name of a groomer who can help get this boy pretty as can be again," he said to Kou. "Once he's been groomed, bring him back here and we'll make sure he has all his shots. I didn't find a microchip on him, so there's no way to know if he has a home out there."

"Oh he has a home," Kou said, and Aiichirou groaned.

"You're paying for the supplies," he warned.

"Yeah, yeah," Kou said, waving her hand flippantly. "You'll thank me soon enough." Aiichirou just rolled his eyes at her, unable to help the fond smile creeping across his face.

"I asked you to find me a boyfriend, not a pet," he grumbled, then immediately froze. He was so used to making that joke with her that he hadn't even thought of where they were or what cute people were within earshot. But whether Matsukawa thought anything was off about his words or not, he didn't let it show. He just typed something into his computer and scribbled a number down on a pad of paper. Then he handed it and another small slip over.

"That one's a coupon for some quality food," he explained. "If you ask the employees at that store, they'll be able to point you to the right formulation for malnutrition, and give you some guidance on feeding times and amounts."

"Thank you, Matsukawa-sensei," Kou said, beaming as she took the papers from him.

"You go ahead, Kou-chan," Aiichirou said as the three of them returned to the lobby. He handed her the keys. "I'll take care of this one since you're buying literally everything else for the rest of his life." She waved him off with a roll of her eyes and carried the cat through the door, cooing at him the entire way. He turned to the counter and offered a sheepish smile to Matsukawa.

"What's the story there, if you don't mind my asking?" Matsukawa questioned as he punched some buttons on his register.

"We met in high school," Aiichirou replied. "Her older brother was my senpai on the swim team, and she managed the team from our rival high school. When we graduated, she shoved me into a culinary program while she took a business degree, and then made me teach her what I learned in the evenings. Then she dropped some real estate papers in front of me and informed me we were opening a brick-and-mortar bakery together. We live in the apartment above the shop, and she's the biggest pain in the ass I've ever met, but I couldn't ask for a better friend."

"Friend?" Matsukawa repeated, his voice a little strained.

"Yeah. People always ask about that one." Aiichirou laughed. "I get it. We're both hot as fuck. But we're also both incredibly gay, so alas, we will never be the power couple we were born to be."

"I feel like the world is lucky for that," Matsukawa hummed. "This exam was on the house. New customer promotion."

"That... doesn't seem right," Aiichirou said. Matsukawa leaned his hips against his side of the counter, his eyes catching Aiichirou's and holding him captive.

"New customers get their first examination free, provided they're beautiful and laugh like the coming of distant thunder. Terms and conditions: one use per customer. Cannot be combined with other offers or promotions. New customers must provide their names and a list of times they’re available for a dinner date over the next week."

Aiichirou stared at Matsukawa as his meaning sunk in, feeling the warmth and tightness in his chest blossom into a smile he couldn't quite keep down.

"Nitori Aiichirou," he said, "and I'm free on Thursday and Saturday."

The smile that spread across Matsukawa's face was even more beautiful than the rest of him. "Meet me here Thursday at six?" he asked.

"It's a date."

[notsuchasecret]

Four Idiots Walk Into an Onigiri Shop

#4: One of the challenges I've set up for myself for this year is to take a prompt and turn its original intention on its head. For today's OsaIwa post, I decided to take a line from an NSFW prompt list and make it fluffy and innocent. Though, it did turn more crack-y than fluffy, but oh well. Atsumu is so fun to fuck with.

If Miya Atsumu had one single regret in his life, it would be that he didn't eat Osamu in the womb. If he had two, it was that he had let Osamu and Iwaizumi meet. Of course, both of these regrets were easy to have in hindsight: fetus Atsumu hadn't known what an absolute shit his twin would turn out to be, and the Atsumu who was fresh off his Olympic high hadn't realized that his athletic trainer had the worst taste known to man, but what could he do? Besides murder Osamu and dump his body in the ocean?

"I think you're overreacting, TsumTsum," Bokuto said as they drew near to the door of Osamu's first Onigiri Miya branch. Atsumu just looked balefully up at his friend. Bokuto loved everyone, even that moron Osamu, so it wasn't unsurprising that he didn't see the problem here.

"Nah, it's not an overreaction," Atsumu said. "If I throw him in the ocean, Ma really would skin me. She's got a taxidermist all picked out ta dye my hair dark and stuff me and set me up in her living room so she can pretend she has one nice, quiet son instead of the two she's got."

"Not what I meant, but man, that's dark," Bokuto commented.

"We deserve it," Atsumu said with a shrug. He straightened his shoulders and opened the door.

"Welcome to Oni-- aw, fuck, it's you," Osamu groused.

"Great ta see you too, scrub," Atsumu snipped. Osamu rolled his eyes.

"Hey, Bokkun, nice ta see ya," he said.

"Hi, Miyaasam!" Bokuto chirped. They took their seats at the counter, and Atsumu squinted around suspiciously.

"What're you lookin' for?" Osamu snarled.

"Nothin'," Atsumu said. Osamu rolled his eyes again, but then a smirk began creeping across his face.

"Hey, babe, we got company!" he called over his shoulder. Hardly a moment later, Iwaizumi emerged from the kitchen - which, rude, Osamu never let Atsumu back there! - and smiled at the sight of Atsumu and Bokuto.

"Hey. How're you two recovering? I caught the stream for that last Jackals and Falcons match. Looked brutal."

"You have no idea," Bokuto groaned. "I thought my arms were gonna fall off at that last spike in the second from Aran!"

"Yeah, Aran-kun's a cannon," Osamu laughed. "Hajime, are ya hungry? I just got done with a fresh batch, extra spicy fer ya."

"You're a menace," Iwaizumi laughed, leaning up to press a kiss to Osamu's cheek - gross - and then walked around the counter to sit beside Atsumu.

"Here, scrub, you can have some too," Osamu said, setting out plates for them. "Tryin' a new recipe. Bokkun, got some tarako here fer ya, so ya don't burn yer tongue off."

"You're the best, Miyaasam!" Bokuto crowed, pulling his plate closer to himself. Atsumu rolled his eyes and grabbed an onigiri for himself. He didn't bother asking what was in it— it could be anything from spicy tuna mayo to some horrific combination of half-spoiled ingredients Osamu had lying around to fuck with Atsumu, and there was no way to find out without taking a bite.

This time, it did turn out to be actual food, spicy kimchi and mayo, and something else that Atsumu couldn't quite put his finger on. He hummed, taking a second bite.

"Balance is off," he said with a shrug, then stuffed the rest in his mouth.

"Which way?" Osamu asked. Atsumu hummed, chewing.

"Yer mayo's overpowerin'. Yer goin' fer spice here, right?" Osamu nodded. "If yer tryin' fer the consistency with how much mayo yer puttin' in, ya may wanna chop yer kimchi finer so it'll mix with less. It'll also bring out whatever that extra spice is— chili sauce?"

"Tried it with siracha this time, fer the consistency yer talkin' about. Not the worst idea you've had," Osamu said. He glanced at Iwaizumi and snorted. "Do ya need to use yer safeword, darlin'?" he asked, and Atsumu promptly sprayed the bite he'd just taken all over the counter. "Tsumu, what the fuck?!" Osamu cried.

"You what the fuck?! You can't just say that shit, ya fuck!"

Iwaizumi burst out laughing. He slapped Atsumu on the back as he accepted the glass Osamu held out for him. "I'd hate to see you react to how we actually talk at home," he wheezed once he had taken a long drink.

"I never shoulda let you two meet," Atsumu grumbled. "You were supposed ta be better than this, Iwaizumi-san!"

"I mean. You've met Oikawa. That's my best friend." Iwaizumi just shrugged and took another sip of his drink. "And yeah, Samu, it is too much for me. You'll get me there eventually, though, don't worry."

"I mean, the process is half the fun," Osamu said, and though to any other ear it would've been completely innocuous, Atsumu knew his brother. He knew when Osamu was fucking with him, and when he meant the double entendres that he always claimed Atsumu was reaching too far for. Atsumu rolled his eyes, scooped up Iwaizumi's plate and dumped his own remaining onigiri on it, and walked out the door. He ignored the sound of his brother shouting at him and Iwaizumi and Bokuto laughing. He'd had more than enough of that moron for one day. Really, for his entire life, but...

At the end of the day, Atsumu did love his brother. Which was why he hadn't eaten him in utero, or murdered him and found some way to dispose of him without facing his ma's wrath. Not that the fucker deserved it.

Though. His onigiri was pretty good.

Consolation prize, Atsumu thought to himself, and nodded, munching on one as he waited for the train and plotted his revenge.

[notsuchasecret]

Suga & Asahi - “Why is arson always your first answer?”

Hey look, Ezzy, I got you Karasuno relationship anarchy. Featuring a bonus Noya and bonus (implied) Daichi, for you. As a treat. You're welcome.

"Why is arson always your first answer?"

Koushi looked up at the sound of Nishinoya's voice, a response poised on his tongue, only to sputter and stop short at the realization that Nishinoya wasn't talking to him, but to Asahi.

"Because arson is both crime scene and clean up in one," Asahi replied. "So long as your target is inside whatever building you burn down when it burns down, it's a win-win."

"Are you two plotting a crime spree without me?" Koushi gasped, vaulting up off the couch.

"Oh, hey, Suga," Asahi greeted, smiling. "We didn't know you were home. And it's more of an assassination than a crime spree, but yeah."

"Is it an assassination?" Nishinoya argued. "I feel like an assassination target should be, y'know, politically significant. This is more of a murder."

"A hit?" Koushi suggested.

"A hit!" Nishinoya crowed. "See, this is why we shouldn't be planning our revenge without Suga-san involved."

"That is one hundred percent correct, Noya," Koushi laughed. Asahi shook his head fondly. "Who are we putting a hit on?"

"That old crackpot at the boba house who wouldn't give me lavender syrup in my drink," Nishinoya answered. "He kept saying that lavender wasn't on the menu, and wasn't even a flavor. It's a flower, not for food."

"What a dumb bitch," Koushi hummed. "He definitely needs to be put out of your misery."

"I knew you would understand," Nishinoya cooed. Koushi nodded solemnly and hooked an arm around Nishinoya's shoulders, pulling him close.

"Unfortunately," he said, and Nishinoya groaned. "Stop that. Unfortunately, Asahi's right. About the arson, anyway."

"Told you."

"Arson is a very good first answer," Koushi continued. "And if you do it well enough there will be nothing to trace it to you. No fingerprints, no dna, just cinders and sadness. Exactly as we like it."

"Man, the two of you have a fucked up sense of humor," Nishinoya said. Koushi and Asahi answered him in perfect unison,

"Daddy issues."

Nishinoya squinted at them for a moment, then his eyes went wide with realization. "Nope," he said, breaking free of Koushi's hold to move to the kitchen. "I don't want to know anything about what the two of you got up to with Daichi-san in high school. Or before Suga-san moved to Tokyo. Or ever."

"You sure?" Asahi asked while Koushi cackled. "Because there was this one time, with the ice—"

"Ooh! And the one with the rope and the nipple clamps, the one where he—"

"Yeah! That one was great! But don't forget about the—"

"Stop!" Nishinoya cried. Koushi leaned in a little to make sure he wasn't genuinely distressed, then grinned.

"Why? Jealous?"

"Aww, Noya, we can make sure the next time we get up to anything with Daichi that you're there too!"

"I’m sure he'd be happy to have you along," Koushi agreed.

Nishinoya grumbled something under his breath, but he couldn't hide the blush creeping up the back of his neck. Koushi glanced at Asahi and winked, laughing at the eye-roll he got in response. No matter what did come of this conversation, arson or orgies, it was sure to be a fun ride either way.

[notsuchasecret]

Twice the Trouble

#2: For today's challenge, I rolled a d100 a few times on my random fic generator, to get a prompt and some characters. I love this concept, it was so much fun to slap together lol. Enjoy!

If there was one thing Kita Shinsuke had learned in his time at Inarizaki High, it was to be wary of twins. He seemed to attract them, like the Miyas had slipped some sort of magnets under his skin when he wasn't looking, and each set he came across brought some new brand of chaos to his life. Atsumu and Osamu, he had largely learned to corral, but each of the five pairs that he met after them had been different enough in some way that the tricks he'd learned in high school weren't as effective.

He'd just finished a delivery at the Higashiosaka branch of Onigiri Miya, the truck still sitting in the back alley behind the shop as Shinsuke strolled along the street. Atsumu had been visiting for an early lunch, his boyfriend sitting next to him at the counter and making the most smitten faces at him whenever his back was turned. Osamu had mentioned Suna coming down to visit as well, and he'd sounded so happy when he'd said it. Shinsuke was happy for them both. He was happy for all his friends. It was nice to see so many of them following their dreams, finding joy, finding someone to cherish them. Shinsuke had a serene little smile on his face as he window shopped, thinking of the way Atsumu had leaned toward his boyfriend subconsciously, and the way Osamu had smiled. The smile Shinsuke wore dropped immediately when he nearly tripped over a little girl outside a coffee shop, only to find a little boy the same age standing right behind him.

Here we go, Shinsuke thought to himself, and bowed to the latest twins.

"Apologies," he said, smiling politely. "I didn't see ya there."

He tried to keep walking, to cut short any intervention they could stage. But then the girl looked up at him, cocked her head, and said, "Onii-san, you seem lonely."

The words stopped Shinsuke in his tracks. He tried to keep walking, but his legs wouldn't budge. He found himself instead turning to look at the kids.

"What makes ya say that?" he asked.

"No, it isn't that he's lonely," the boy said, looking at his sister. "It's that he's insecure. He doesn't see what's in front of him."

"That isn't it, either," she argued. "He sees his friends. He's jealous of them."

"I don't--" Shinsuke started, but the boy snapped his fingers, and the girl's eyes widened, and both said at the same time,

"He thinks he's unloveable!"

"Why do you think that, Onii-san?" the girl asked, turning back to Shinsuke.

"Is it just romantic love you think you can't have? That would make sense, since your friends are so close to your heart," the boy added.

"I should be going," Shinsuke managed, and forced himself to turn.

"No, that won't do," the girl said, and reached out to brush her fingertip across his forearm. He stopped, blinking.

"What was..." He shook his head. "I don't have anywhere ta be, but I don't wanna be here," he said, then frowned. "I didn't mean ta say that..."

"Oh, it's fine," the boy said. "There's no use in trying to be polite now. So, why do you think you can't have love?"

"Because I'm boring," Shinsuke answered promptly, then frowned deeper.

"Hmm. But did you ever try for it?" asked the girl.

"Well, no, but--"

"Ren! Ran! There you are!" Shinsuke looked up and prayed desperately that his cheeks weren't as red as they felt. The young man who was jogging toward them looked enough like the twins that he must have been related, perhaps an older brother. He was beautiful, sandy brown hair, droopy green eyes, broad and tall. Even frowning at his siblings, Shinsuke could see kindness in his face. "Please tell me you weren't bothering this poor man," the stranger groaned.

"Of course not!" scoffed the girl.

"We were just trying to help," muttered the boy. Their brother groaned.

"I'm so sorry about them," he said, bowing to Shinsuke. "They like to meddle, no matter how much I tell them to leave people to live their own lives." He glared at the twins, who blinked back, unrepentant. It was a look Shinsuke had seen on the Miyas' faces so often that he had to smile.

"I don't think they did much harm," he said, and the stranger blinked at him. "They meant well, anyway."

"...Ran," the stranger hissed, and the girl shrugged.

"He was running away," she said, looking at her nails. "We were only trying to help."

"Listen, sir," the stranger said, turning back to Shinsuke. "It'll wear off in about three hours, a day at most, depending on how much skin contact she got. But you'll want to be careful who you talk to for the rest of the day. My little sister has a... gift, let's call it, for getting people to tell the truth, and she abuses it shamelessly." He glared at her again, but she just shrugged.

"Oh. That makes sense, then," Shinsuke said.

"I'll get these menaces back to our uncle's house, then," the stranger said, grabbing his siblings by the shoulders. He bowed again. "I'm sorry for the trouble." He paused a moment, seeming to consider something, then shook his head and dug a slip of paper out of his pocket. "This is my phone number. I don't give it out much, but, well. If the effects don't wear off, or if you run into any trouble because of her, feel free to text me and I'll see if I can help."

Shinsuke kept his mouth carefully shut as he took the slip of paper, his breath going shaky at the brush of their skin together. The stranger smiled, bowed once more, then steered the twins away. Shinsuke looked down at the number he'd been given, and the name scribbled above it.

"Tachibana Makoto," he read quietly, and looked up at the retreating backs of the three siblings. Makoto was scolding his brother, his back broad and what little of his face that Shinsuke could see painfully handsome. Shinsuke bit his lip. He would text Makoto, he decided, regardless of the effects of his little sister's gift. If only for sheer curiosity's sake.

Smiling to himself, he shook his head and turned back down the street, thinking of another pair of twins and just how explosive their reaction would be if this went the way Shinsuke was thinking it might. He would have to be sure to avoid speaking to either of them if he truly did have to tell the truth. Or maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't. Maybe he could sow a little chaos of his own.

It would serve them right, after all.

[notsuchasecret]

HEY EVERYONE

In like fifteen minutes a good friend of mine @mkmoondust and I are going live on her twitch here for a 24-hour write-a-thon! We'll be talking about writing and being a creative in general while dealing with mental health issues and chronic illness and also just toodling around on 4thewords!

Be there. Be square. Or person-shaped. Or whatever shape you happen to take.

Additional shout-out to my fandom twitter here and my professional writing twitter here if you wanna keep track of the chaos!

[notsuchasecret]

tricksies and treatsies - AtsuHina

Come trick or treating in my inbox! Leave a “Trick or Treat” and a character or ship in an ask, and I’ll treat you to some autumn-themed fluff or trick you with some twisted spooky aus! Treat

A bonfire seemed like a great idea on the last night of a MSBY camping trip. Meian had a stick in his hands, poking at the flames in that way that dads do, swatting at Inunaki’s hands when he tried to do the same. Bokuto had brought along a guitar and Adriah was plucking out some English song on it while Barnes hummed along. Even Sakusa was there, looking relaxed as he ever did.

But Atsumu only had eyes for one teammate.

It wasn’t anything new. Osamu had teased him for years about his stupid crush on the little orange-haired crow, teasing that had turned into incredulous, wheezing laughter when Atsumu had mentioned him among the new recruits back in 2018. Bokuto had noticed right away, and Sakusa not long after. The only two mercies in Atsumu’s life were that Inunaki had not yet noticed, and that neither had Hinata himself.

But now, watching Hinata, seeing the way the slowly-dying flames lit his face in softer shades than usual, watching the way his smile was just a tad sleepy and slow, Atsumu let himself wish that Hinata would notice. Because at least then Atsumu could know definitively, and could move on with his life.

Hinata’s eyes caught Atsumu’s, and he smiled such a soft smile that Atsumu’s entire soul ached with its longing. He dragged his eyes away, looking at the fire instead and trying to ignore the quiet scoff from beside him.

“This is just sad, Miya.��� Sakusa’s voice was quiet enough that no one else picked out the words. Atsumu shook his head.

“Ya think I don’t know that, Omi-kun?” he hissed.

“The saddest part of it all is that you keep looking away,” Sakusa continued, because he loved watching Atsumu suffer. Bastard. “Maybe next time, keep watching.” Atsumu looked up at him, confused, and he shrugged. “You might be surprised what you see.”

With that, Sakusa stood, ignoring the team’s goodnights and trudging off to his own tent.

One by one, the other players split off as well, until with a final check-in from Meian, Atsumu was alone by the barely-cold ashes. He tipped his head back with a sigh, thinking of how few stars he could see in Osaka, trying to remember when the last time he’d visited home had been, holding off a daydream about seeing those Hyogo stars with—

“Tsumu-san, what are you doing out here by yourself?”

Atsumu let his head turn lazily, enough to hide the way his heart jumped and started hammering in his chest. He smirked at Hinata, then turned back skyward.

“Nothin’ much, Shouyou-kun. Just thinkin’.”

“About what?”

To Atsumu’s surprise, Hinata lowered himself onto the log next to Atsumu, letting their sides press together. Probably just for warmth, Atsumu told himself firmly. With the fire dead, the mountain air was a nippy enough to allow for huddling. Atsumu hummed, shrugging. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hinata look up as well.

“In high school, I used to wake up when it was still dark out, to bike over the mountain to get to Karasuno.” Hinata’s voice was soft, dream-like, almost. Atsumu turned away from the gaseous bodies above them to look at the star sitting next to him instead, and waited. Keep watching, he told himself, letting himself wonder if maybe Sakusa was on to something.  Hinata was smiling. “There were always so many stars on those bike rides,” he said. “When I moved to Rio, I’d still see them sometimes, but not as often. And of course, there’s so much light pollution in Osaka…” Hinata sighed. “I miss it sometimes.”

“Samu and I used ta go campin’ with our uncle at the end of every summer,” Atsumu said. “A lot like this, actually. He owned land on the far side of Kobe. Actually, not that far away from where my old senpai has his farm now.” Hinata looked at him, and something about the night, about the starlight washing out the color in Hinata’s hair but dancing in his eyes, about the chill in the air that wasn’t actually enough to justify how close they were sitting, about the lingering scent of campfire smoke clinging to their clothes, something made Atsumu want to be brave. And then Hinata smiled, moving the arm squished between them until his hand could snag Atsumu’s where it hung from his knee. He looked back up at Atsumu, still smiling, and squeezed.

“You should take me there sometime,” he said, and it sounded to Atsumu like he was really saying something else. Atsumu nodded.

“I’ll show ya all the places I knew as a kid,” he said, and he knew that Hinata could tell he was saying something else as well. Hinata’s smile softened for just a moment, then he turned back to the heavens and leaned against Atsumu’s shoulder.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sunrise in the mountains,” he murmured. Atsumu knew that wasn’t true, that Hinata had been up before dawn just that morning, and that he had risen early when living in Brazil, too. But rather than point any of that out, he simply rested his cheek on top of Hinata’s head and closed his eyes.

“Let’s stay up, then, and watch it together.”

[notsuchasecret]

Trick or treat! SouHaru

Come trick or treating in my inbox! Leave a “Trick or Treat” and a character or ship in an ask, and I’ll treat you to some autumn-themed fluff or trick you with some twisted spooky aus!

Treat

“No.”

Haru ignored Sousuke’s words, but continued staring at him. Sousuke deliberately did not make eye contact.

“I said no.”

Haru was getting closer. He wasn’t pouting, not really, but the intensity of that stare wasn’t letting up, either.

“It’s not happening, Haruka.”

“Give it up, Sousuke, you know he’s gonna win,” drawled Rin from his spot draped across Sousuke’s armchair.

“Why are you even here?” Sousuke shot in his direction.

“Dunno, but that’s not gonna work to distract him,” Rin replied, flipping a page in his magazine.

“Sousuke.”

Fuck. When Haru said his name like that, Sousuke didn’t have much chance of withstanding. All three of them knew he had already lost, but he held on valiantly, anyway.

“You’re such a basic bitch,” Sousuke groaned. “You’re a thirty-year-old Japanese man, not some white teenage girl. Why do you even want it so bad?”

“It reminds me of you.” Haru’s voice was uncharacteristically soft underneath the scowl and the grumble he slapped on top to cover himself. Sousuke looked at him a little closer, cataloging the genuine vulnerability underneath the displease twist of his lips.

“…Why?”

“Because it’s what he ordered on your first date,” Rin chimed in.

“How do you even—“ Sousuke shook his head. “Rin, get out. Go bother someone else.”

“Mkay.” Rin closed his magazine and scooped his bag, not even bothering to say a proper goodbye as he left their apartment. Sousuke rolled his eyes and turned back to Haru.

“What aren’t you telling me?” Sousuke asked, trying to keep his voice soft but not mushy. Haru huffed. Now he was outright refusing to look at Sousuke at all, as though the staring contest he’d started hadn’t even happened.

“It just makes me think of you, okay?” he muttered. “We went on that date and you bought me that latte and then we walked around the park and the leaves were changing. Happy?”

And, really, Sousuke was. It wasn’t often that he or Haru admitted anything that sentimental to each other, and each time it happened that same giddy rush of joy and contentment flooded every ounce of Sousuke. He reached out to cup Haru’s jaw, nudging until he reluctantly looked up.

“Where do you want to go get it?” he asked.

“The closest coffee shop that sells it is that one over by the train station,” Haru answered. Sousuke bit back a groan. He fucking hated that coffee shop and their outrageous prices and the baristas that tittered like they’d never seen a gay couple before even though Haru dragged Sousuke in there at least three times a month. Instead, he shook his head with a rueful smile.

“Go get your coat,” he said. “I will pay for one pumpkin spice latte and that’s it. Any desserts you want are on you.”

“That’s fine,” Haru said, climbing off the couch and padding over to the genkan. “I make better pastries than tham anyway.”

At that, the well-disguised promise of baked goods as a reward for his good behavior, Sousuke got off the couch as well. He found, as he walked down the street, bundled up against the autumn chill and holding the hand of the biggest asshole he’d ever met, that it was more than worth the price he paid. Especially when Haru took a sip of his latte and settled into a blissful ease. Sousuke would pay much, much more than this, just for a moment longer with him, and still think he was getting away for a steal.

[notsuchasecret]

Tricks and Treats - SouMako

Come trick or treating in my inbox! Leave a “Trick or Treat” and a character or ship in an ask, and I’ll treat you to some autumn-themed fluff or trick you with some twisted spooky aus! Treat I swear, the Sousuke and the Makoto are in this, they just. Don't show up for a while lmao. @ezzydean come collect your child, he's running amok in prompts again.

“Rei-chan, it’s time.” Rei didn’t even look up from the magazine he was flipping through, which, rude. Nagisa was pulling out his very best Drama, and the least his best friend could do was at least pay attention. “The winds are changing, Rei-chan. The air grows cold. My days of freedom have come to an end, and it is time, at last, for you to put me in the ground.”

“Mhmm.”

“You’re the worst.”

“Nagisa-kun, your libido is not my problem,” Rei droned, turning a page.

“I’ll make it your problem,” Nagisa threatened. Rei sighed, tucking his thumb in to mark his place as he closed his magazine and leveled Nagisa with a Look.

“Threats do not work on me, Nagisa-kun, you know that.”

“I think you’re thinking of bribery, Rei-chan. Threats work perfectly well, when you know the right pressure points.” Nagisa maintained eye-contact, his jaw tightening as Rei’s own competitive nature kicked in and it became a full-blown staring contest.

“Wait, why is Hazuki-san threatening Ryuugazaki-san?” Momo stage-whispered. Rei looked away and Nagisa grinned.

“Because he’s got too high of a sex drive,” Ai replied, casual, like he was discussing the weather, and don’t even get Nagisa started on the hypocrisy of that—

“Momo-chan,” Nagisa said, slapping his hands down on the table and leaning over it into Momo’s space. Momo, bless him, had not learned one bit over the many years they’d known each other, and leaned forward as well, attentive and eager to please. “I am today in the unique position to make you a once-in-a-lifetime offer. If you act within the next…” he glanced at the clock. “…fourteen minutes, you will be totally free to murder me with absolutely zero retaliation from my ghost.”

“…Yeah, I’m gonna have to say no on that one, Hazuki-san. Sorry.”

“Grave mistake, Momo-chan,” Nagisa sighed.

“Well, whatever machiavellic revenge you’re going to pass on to him, better come up with it soon,” Ai said, still snuggling into Momo’s side and looking out the window, an utterly bored expression on his face. “Here they come.”

Nagisa’s head whipped around so fast that something cracked in his neck, but none of that mattered one bit. Not when Rin was walking through the door of the coffee shop and behind him were—

“Fuck,” Nagisa whined, dropping his head onto the table. Rei reached out and patted the back of it absently, already turned back to his magazine.

“The hell’s his problem?” Rin asked, dropping into the seat beside Ai and flopping across him, making Momo let out a quiet ‘oof’.

“The usual,” Rei said.

“It’s flannel season,” Ai explained. Nagisa whined into the table, pointedly ignoring the way he could hear the two remaining seats filling.

“Nagisa, what’s happening?” Makoto asked, not quite sounding like a mother concerned for the well-being of his precious kouhai, but more like a mother whose many, many children had drained his will to live and his patience for shenanigans.

“You,” Nagisa answered, still refusing to look up.

“Me.”

“And him.”

“Him being Sousuke-kun?”

“Yep.”

“Nagisa, what are you talking about?”

Nagisa tilted his head up to lean his chin on the table and level Makoto with a glare. Across from him, Sousuke was already smirking, his chin on his hand and his eyes hooded like he knew he didn’t need to try to seduce Nagisa, but was going to put in the effort anyway. Nagisa stuck his tongue out at him.

“Nagisa,” Makoto groaned.

“Every fall, when the weather gets colder, the two of you break out the flannel shirts, and my life goes to hell,” Nagisa snipped. “And it’s always you two. Rei-chan doesn’t wear flannels, Sei-chan is so aggressively asexual that he doesn’t even register to me, and no one else in our friend group is big enough to give off the hot lumberjack vibes you two have oozing off of you. I know Sou-chan’s doing it on purpose, but I can’t decide if you not realizing is better or worse, actually. And since we all know neither of you is gonna go there, I’m left sitting here drowning in a pool of my own hormones. Every. Goddamn. Year.”

Makoto blinked, but he didn’t flush or sputter like Nagisa had half-expected. Instead, he glanced at Sousuke with an almost amused furrow in his brow.

“Who said neither of us would go there?” he laughed. Rei groaned, turning to glare at Nagisa.

“If the apartment isn’t spotless when you’re done, I swear I will shred every last blanket you own to ribbons.”

“Woah, Rei-chan, I don’t—“

“Every. Last. One. I want the whole place sparkling. And smelling of citrus cleaner. I will not have a repeat of last time. Understood?”

Nagisa glanced over Rei’s shoulder, at the way Makoto was smirking and Sousuke was watching him with what could only be described as bedroom eyes, and shrugged.

“You’ll never find all my blankets anyway, so, sure. Understood.”

With that, he hopped out of his seat, returning Rin and Ai’s lazy waves with one of his own, and marched out of the coffee shop without bothering to wait and see if the other two were following him. He could hear the laughter and the shuffling of chairs behind him anyway, and he had more important things to devote his brain power to. Like planning. And all the creative ways he could use those damned flannel shirts.

He smiled, taking a deep breath of the crisp autumn air. It was time.

[notsuchasecret]

Trick or treat Kinoshita and Futakuchi!

Come trick or treating in my inbox! Leave a “Trick or Treat” and a character or ship in an ask, and I’ll treat you to some autumn-themed fluff or trick you with some twisted spooky aus! Is this a trick? Is this a treat? Who knows, certainly not me!

The day had begun just this side of cold, as it usually did near the end of October. Chilly, that was the word for it. There was a chill, a nip, a bite to the air, but it wasn’t enough to be called cold. Hisashi left the house with just a light jacket, a windbreaker the origins of which he could no longer remember. Did people even wear windbreakers anymore?

The meeting place was once a grove, home to a beautiful old tree and its younger siblings. Now it was just another suburban street corner. Hisashi didn’t have the energy to sneer at that. He hadn’t in god only knew how many dozens of years now.

Futakuchi was already there. Hisashi knew he was, even when he was still blocks away. The morning was drawing to its end, the sun reaching its height, and it was no longer chilly enough for a jacket. Hisashi paused outside a fast food chain to take it off and tie it around his waist. He knew what sorts of looks he was attracting, between the jacket and the fact tha the was pausing and the fact that he was on foot at all. But much like the energy to sneer, the energy to care had faded decades ago. He looked up at the hazy sky with the most he could muster up of a wish for times long gone, and kept walking.

When he reached the street corner that was once an ancient grove, he stopped beside his old companion.

“Not long now,” he murmured. Futakuchi didn’t answer, but Hisashi knew that didn’t mean he hadn’t heard. “Do you think this one will wipe them out?”

Futakuchi did answer that one, a slow shake of his head and a sigh. “Humans are a persistent species, you know that,” he said. “This has been building longer than we’ve been alive, you know. And how many cataclysms have they survived in all that time?”

Hisashi didn’t point out what they both knew: that those cataclysms were exactly why they were there, in the suburbs instead of a forest. He also didn’t point out that they, too, were a cataclysm, and that if humanity survived them, it would mean their long lives were for nothing.

“Not nothing,” Futakuchi murmured. Hisashi glanced at him.

“I’d forgotten about that,” he admitted.

“That you don’t need to say it out loud?” Hisashi nodded. Futakuchi shook his head and took Hisashi’s hand in his own. “It may not be the humans we need to worry about this time,” he said. Hisashi hummed. Futakuchi was right. This horror the humans had created was more insidious than anything the gods had come up with yet, including the two of them. Hisashi squeezed Futakuchi’s hand.

“We’ll survive,” he promised, looking out over the sprawling watercolor-stain of humanity stretched before them. He sighed. “We’ll survive like we always do, and so will they. I just.”’

“What is it?”

Hisashi looked up to find Futakuchi looking at him, something that didn’t happen as often as they both wanted it anymore. Hisashi smiled, a sad little thing. “Remember when they were beautiful?” he asked.

“They’re still beautiful,” Futakuchi pointed out.

“No, I mean… Remember when we could find them beautiful? Before they brought all this beyond the point of no return?”

“I do,” Futakuchi murmured. “You were the most beautiful of all of them.” He reached out with his free hand to cup Hisashi’s cheek. “You’re still more beautiful than any of them could ever be.”

The sun beat down directly overhead, and Hisashi was beginning to sweat. “I have to return,” he said, reluctant. But Futakuchi smiled at him, squeezing his hand.

“Not long now,” he promised.

“Not long now,” Hisashi repeated. He raised Futakuchi’s hand to press a kiss to each of his knuckles, then let it go. As he walked back through the endless grid of suburban streets, wishing he could see just one playing child or laughing couple, he glanced at the sky where hung the sun, heavy and red and ready to lash out.

Not long now, at all.

[notsuchasecret]

Trick or Treat Time. *spins the wheel* The original Samezuka Trio (+ any HQ kiddo)

Come trick or treating in my inbox! Leave a “Trick or Treat” and a character or ship in an ask, and I’ll treat you to some autumn-themed fluff or trick you with some twisted spooky aus! Treat

Seijuurou was used to this. His clothes had been disappearing since he was a kid, thanks to how much bigger he had always been than both Momo and Isuzu, but it had gotten so much worse his third year of high school. Going by the way Isuzu complained about her own clothes disappearing, it was a common Matsuoka courting ritual to just raid closets. The only reason Ai had gotten out unscathed in those months before Rin had gathered his courage was because he was too small for his closet to hold anything usable— though the same could not be said of his blanket collection.

So, yes. Seijuurou was used to his clothes, especially his jackets and sweaters, disappearing without notice. Even when Rin was overseas, Ai did it frequently enough to keep Seijuurou limber. So when Seijuurou opened his closet on the first truly chilly day one autumn to find it bare of anything with long sleeves, he just shook his head and closed it again, then moved to the living room to find something he could wear.

He stopped short.

Rin was sprawled along the length of the couch in Seijuurou’s Samezuka jacket, one of his sweaters layered underneath. Ai was sitting at the table in front of him, swimming in one of Seijuurou’s sweatshirts. But what got Seijuurou’s breath catching in his chest and his mind shooting through scenarios and possibilities and stopping short at the singular thought of wow was this:

Daichi, plopped on the floor with his head in Ai’s lap, rambling on about something to do with Suga and a banana, wearing Seijuurou’s college hoodie.

Rin was the first to notice him. He looked up from his book with a scowl that was more resting bitch face than anything. It turned into brow-furrowed confusion at what must have been a completely dumbfounded expression on Seijuurou’s face. Rin traced Seijuurou’s gaze to where he could not stop glancing at Daichi, and then Rin laughed.

“God, Mikoshiba, you should be used to this by now,” he snorted. Daichi broke off from his story and he and Ai glanced at Rin and then at Seijuurou.

“Oh. You broke him,” Ai commented. “Been a while since that happened.”

“Who broke him?” Daichi asked, and his voice was that beautiful amused-curious that had first caught Seijuurou’s interest.

“You did,” Rin answered. Daichi looked back at him, then his face did that gorgeous thing where he visibly worked through the logic set before him to try and puzzle out a problem. He looked at Seijuurou, standing in a t-shirt, then at Ai, then at Rin, then down at his own chest. A smile, the kind that only ever spelled trouble, stretched across his face.

“Y’know,” he hummed, settling more firmly against Ai. “It’s nice, being smaller than someone. Doesn’t happen that often for me. I tend to go more for smaller guys. But…” he glanced at Seijuurou, looking for all the world like a cat about to knock a glass off a counter. “That means that I buy a lot of my own clothes bigger, to get that boyfriend jacket feeling.” He shrugged and closed his eyes, clearly done with his setup. Seijuurou narrowed his eyes at him and pieced through what was offered. It was true that Seijuurou’s hoodie sat just about the same amount of baggy on him as most of his own clothes. Which meant that there was probably a sweater or two in Daichi’s own wardrobe that was about the same size…

Seijuurou grinned and darted into the bedroom, pulling open Daichi’s drawer at the bottom of the dresser. It was jammed full, overflowing with everything Daichi had crammed into it since he was here more often than not, the slow precursor to him just moving in one day the way Ai had a few years before. Seijuurou smiled at that thought as he pawed through the clothes, emerging triumphant with an old Karasuno sweatshirt. Seijuurou slipped it over his head, sighing contentedly as it fit just a little loose. And then the scent hit him.

“Oh my god,” he whispered, drawing the collar up to his nose to breathe in the smell of Daichi’s detergent and just the faintest hint of cologne. He stood and walked as sedately as he could manage back out to the living room. “Okay,” he said, and all three of them looked up at him, Rin grinning and Ai smirking and Daichi blushing. “I get it now. You’re all still menaces, but whatever. I understand.” Ai snorted and Rin laughed and Daichi was still blushing. Seijuurou noted that, but didn’t do anything with it as he moved Rin’s legs out of his way to sit on the couch, draping them back over his lap and settling in for a lazy afternoon in.

[notsuchasecret]

Pride Goeth Before (I fell for you long ago)

So @oloreandil freaking dropped the bomb on me at 11pm my time that it's their freaking birthday today, so here! 1.8k of BokuAka schmoop! Happy birthday my friend!

The card came on an otherwise ordinary Thursday. Keiji noticed its shape when he picked up his mail, the squareness of the envelope standing out from the rest of the bills and advertisements. Still, he flicked through all the others first, making sure he knew what he needed to pay and know and handle before turning his attention to the odd little thing that had slipped in with the rest.

The envelope was nice. Not quite as nice as the wedding invitation to Bokuto’s sister’s wedding, but close. He smiled to himself, remembering that night a few years before, the first time either of them had been to a family function as each other’s partners. Sure, they’d been on dates, and sure they’d been to each other’s family’s houses before, but that had been a level of serious that they had yet to really have with each other. Keiji had met Bokuto’s grandmother before then, but that was when she had smiled at him and asked when the two of them were having their own wedding. Bokuto had flushed and sputtered about plans and not wanting to rush Keiji into anything. Keiji scoffed, smiling back across the years. He would have married Bokuto that night, and every night since, distance and plans be damned.

Turning the envelope over in his hands, he noted the return address. It had come from Higashiosaka. Idly, Keiji wondered if it had something to do with MSBY, though he couldn’t recall Bokuto mentioning anything about the team partnering with a local university. He slid his thumb under the flap, ripping open the seal and pulling out the card inside. He read it over twice, the frown on his face deepening as his confusion mounted. He picked up his phone.

“Keiji!” shouted Bokuto as soon as he answered.

“Good afternoon,” Keiji said, not even bothering to hide the smile creeping across his face.

“It’s only, like, four! Why are you calling me?” Bokuto’s voice had quieted from his booming greeting, and Keiji could hear a door opening and closing and the background noise cutting off, presumably as Bokuto left the common room and stepped into his dorm.

“Were you busy?” Keiji asked.

“No, but that’s not an answer to my question.” Keiji could hear the smile in Bokuto’s voice, too. He was glad Bokuto had retreated to his room; he didn’t want to listen to Miya’s complaints about how obnoxiously in love Bokuto was. Not then, anyway: they would have distracted him from the task at hand.

“Koutarou,” Keiji said, then bit his lip. “Why did I get a commencement announcement with your name on it?”

“Oh! It got there! Good, I was worried when you didn’t mention it last week,” Bokuto said.

“Koutarou—“

“So I know it’s a busy time for you, so don’t even worry if you can’t make it,” Bokuto babbled over him. “Like, I mean it, Keiji. I don’t want you stressing yourself out for this. Especially since I know Udai-sensei is still giving you a hard time!”

“Koutarou, you’re avoiding,” Keiji said, and he could all but hear Bokuto deflating, just slightly.

“You’re mad,” Bokuto sighed.

“Of course I’m not mad!” Keiji cried. “I’m just confused! Koutarou, have you been working on a degree?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto said. His voice was nervous, small, like he was waiting to be scolded. Keiji worried his lip between his fingers for a moment, then shook his head.

“I’m starting a video call,” he announced, and pulled his phone away from his ear. He could hear Bokuto protesting, the words too far away to be intelligible, but the tone familiar. He hit the button to turn on the video and waited until Bokuto accepted. There was no helping the smile as Bokuto’s pouting face appeared on his screen. His hair was down, dry, but clearly left unstyled after his post-practice shower. “Hi,” Keiji breathed, and a bit of wonder spread across Bokuto’s face.

“Hi,” he replied. Keiji watched him for a moment, shaking his head.

“You’re a marvel,” he breathed.

“Huh?”

“What is your degree in?” he asked, rather than answer directly.

“Ah, it’s kind of dumb…” Bokuto muttered.

“Koutarou,” Keiji scolded, watching the flush spread across Bokuto’s cheeks.

“It’s just a general applied mathematics degree,” he mumbled at last. “It was supposed to be a four-year track, but with the league and the national team, it took me six years…”

“Koutarou,” Keiji said. “You’re so incredible, do you know that?”

“I—“

“You are an inspiration to me, every day,” Keiji insisted. He looked at the commencement announcement, frowning, and dug his agenda out of his bag. “March twenty-fourth, right?” he asked, not really needing the answer. He flipped to the page he needed and glared at the things written there.

“Keiji, no, I know you’re—“

“Shut up.” He glanced at the screen, smiling softly to let Bokuto know he wasn’t upset. “I need to concentrate for a minute, and you trying to downplay yourself is distracting.”

Bokuto looked just the right amount of chastised, so Keiji turned back to his agenda. He didn’t pay much attention to his phone, only half-listening as Bokuto bumbled around his room. When he had managed to rearrange everything and type out an email to Udai and to his boss, he turned back to his video chat and smiled.

“I’ll be there on the evening of the twenty-third, and I’ll be coming back up here the evening of the twenty-sixth,” he said. “I’m sure your team will want to do something to celebrate with you, so I’m taking an extra night out there, to have you to myself.”

“Like, hotel room to yourself, or…” Bokuto asked, waggling his eyebrows. Keiji laughed.

“Well, I know Sakusa-san didn’t particularly appreciate our last reunion, so that’s probably for the best,” he said. Bokuto snorted, muttering something about nosey teammates and how if Sakusa didn’t want to hear it he should put his bed against the other wall, feng shui be damned. Keiji hummed, watching Bokuto and not even trying to keep down the overwhelm of fondness in his chest. He moved to his couch, settling in. A thought which had been tugging at him like a stuck thorn slipped from his lips before he could stop it.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were attending classes?” he asked.

Bokuto was quiet for a long time, refusing to make eye contact with his camera. Finally, he sat on his bed and blew out a sigh. “I didn’t know if I could do it,” he said at last. “I didn’t want to disappoint you if I couldn’t. You always believe in me, and I didn’t wanna ruin that.”

“Koutarou, can you look at me?” Keiji asked. Bokuto shook his head. “Okay. Then just listen, okay? I had no idea you were doing this. You’re so busy as it is with the V league alone, not to mention the national team or your sponsorship deals. The fact that you’re doing all that, traveling to away games, going on training trips and tournaments overseas, keeping up with your outside contracts and your social life and team bonding, all of it? That alone makes me so proud, Koutarou. So proud. To hear that you’ve gotten a degree while doing all of that blows me away. And.” Bokuto glanced up, his eyes skittering away as soon as he peeked, though Keiji hoped he at least caught a bit of Keiji’s smile. “And, if you hadn’t managed it, I would still be proud. If everything went wrong in your life, if you had to stop playing, stop modeling or doing commercial spots, stop everything, I would still be proud to call you mine. Obnoxiously so. You could fall apart completely in every conventional sense, and I would still brag about you to everyone who will stop and listen.”

“Keiji, you shouldn’t—“

“What have I told you about telling me what to do?” Keiji asked. A smile flickered at Bokuto’s face, a small victory that Keiji was determined to expand on. “Did you know the old woman who lives below me knows your name, and I don’t think she would know a volleyball from a baseball if her life depended on it?”

“Keiji,” Bokuto groaned, falling back against his pillows.

“It’s true. She asked me on Tuesday when she was going to meet that handsome boyfriend of mine. She knows you’re handsome, too, because I’m constantly showing people pictures of you. She promised when she does meet you to stuff you so full of yakiniku that you’ll have to waddle to your next game.”

“I think the team nutritionists will have something to say about that,” Bokuto grumbled.

“You think I’m scared of the nutritionists?” Keiji scoffed. “What’s the worst they can throw at me? Iwaizumi-san? Please.” He thumbed open a browser on his phone, trying to keep his movements subtle so Bokuto didn’t think he was being ignored.

“You’re like the only person I’ve ever met who isn’t at least a little intimidated by him,” Bokuto commented.

“He’s not that intimidating,” Keiji said with a shrug.

“Sure,” Bokuto snorted.

“He’s not. He and I have lunch every now and then and all he does is gush about his cats and his husband. And frankly, of the two of them, Koushi-kun is much more frightening.”

“Fair enough,” Bokuto said. There came the muffled sounds of a commotion, and Keiji smiled.

“Do you need to go see what that is?” Keiji asked.

“Probably.”

“Are you going to?”

“Nah.”

Keiji snorted. “You know I love you, right?” he murmured.

“I do,” Koutarou replied. “You know I love you, right?”

Keiji’s smile was starting to hurt his cheeks. Instead of answering immediately, he sent off a screenshot of his ticket confirmation to Bokuto. He waited until Bokuto’s brow furrowed and he opened the text, waited until his eyes went wide with understanding, waited until Bokuto opened his mouth to protest, before he murmured, soft and sincere, “I do know that, my love.”

Bokuto bit his lip, glaring at Keiji through the screen while Keiji grinned unrepentantly back. Finally, Bokuto rolled his eyes.

“I’m paying for the hotel room this time, at least,” he grumbled.

“Fine,” Keiji relented. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay.” The crashing and shouting of Bokuto’s teammates grew louder and, full of the promise that Keiji was only a few hours away from his arms, Bokuto relented to his curiosity. They said their goodbyes and Keiji just sat for a moment, his phone in one hand and the thick, creamy paper of the announcement in the other and his ribs aching with all the love they contained. He shook his head, huffing a quiet little laugh, and stood to pack a bag. The train left first thing in the morning, and his star was waiting for him.

[notsuchasecret]

Trick or Treat - IwaKen

Come trick or treating in my inbox! Leave a “Trick or Treat” and a character or ship in an ask, and I’ll treat you to some autumn-themed fluff or trick you with some twisted spooky aus!

Trick So as usual, Ezzy and I have no chill, and may or may not have challenged each other to take a list of pretty, soft autumn prompts and use those for our tricks this year. At least, that’s what I heard, in between the sass and the frankly terrifying butter gifs… Anyway, this one’s prompt is “admiring the colors of the fallen leaves"

There was a soft and tender scent in the air, dark, wet earth beneath a cover of leaves that had not yet rotted or blown away from last year’s autumn. Hajime walked as silent as ever through the wide spaces between the trees. Part of him, a vague, half-formed part, wondered if he was even capable of something so human as noise anymore.

A sturdy breeze passed through the canopy, unhooking some of the leaves from their tethers above and sending them drifting down toward Hajime and the rest of the creepy things lurking amongst the roots. He reached up and caught one by the stem, twirling it between his fingers. This one was a mottled collection of colors, yellow and red with a hint of green still clinging here and there. A snapping twig behind him had him smiling. He didn’t even bother looking away from the leaf as he said, “You know, there are other ways to get my attention.”

“You shouldn’t be here.” Hajime’s smile went a little wider, and a little softer. “Gross. Don’t make that face.”

“You going to show yourself today?” Hajime asked. Another breeze moved through, and Hajime caught a second leaf. He settled it next to the first, a bouquet in the making. Kenma didn’t answer. “Okay. You don’t have to,” Hajime said, and walked on.

He knew Kenma was walking with him. The woods were growing silent, a moment’s pause as they neared the edge. Soon, the wailing would begin, the sobbing and the keening, all the sounds that Hajime wasn’t sure he could even produce anymore. Soon, when the fire reached the other end of the village tucked in a little bend in the treeline, like the elbow of a river, like the cradle of a valley, but never meant for human habitation. It was the natural order of things, and Hajime had set it right. Kenma had helped, his winds stirring and shaping the flames so that they lept from thatched roof to thatched roof, but left the treeline alone. Sure, they had kept it mostly away from the innocent. There were casualties in any war, though. The red of the leaves matched the blood on both of their hands.

Finally, Kenma did manifest, a small and cool hand slipping into Hajime’s own to pluck the leaves away. Kenma moved them to his other hand, then twined their empty fingers together. He considered the contrast, one pale yellow elm leaf and one red-gold-green from a maple.

“They’ll be back,” he said, not looking at Hajime. Hajime nodded, not looking at Kenma.

“They will,” he agreed. “The world spins, the leaves grow and fall and grow again, and humanity will rebuild. But we’ll be here to remind them when they forget, just as we have time and time before.” Kenma squeezed his hand and leaned into his side as they came to a stop at the treeline at last. From their place on the edge of the forest, they watched the human village burn.