#miwa Kageyama

[the2020haikyuuphase]

kagehina headcanons

the first week they were in karasuno together and dropping gay ass lines like "when i'm here you're invincible" and shit everyone in the club would just stop what they're doing and clock them.

but back then no one really knew each other because the first years were new to the club so everyone was too nice to say anything about it– EXCEPT gay ass tsukishima but kageyama and hinata always ignore him so

and then everyone just gradually became used to their BS and wouldn’t react. but every time they had a game and were acting like That the players on the opposing team would be like ‘??? tf going on here? explain why ur first years are acting like That??’ so karasuno would have to be reminded

kageyama getting cute aggression with hinata but not knowing what it is

hinata feeling stronger every time kageyama was near and thinking it's because kageyama treats him as an equal

kageyama and hinata planning on hanging out to do mostly volleyball-related stuff in high school but then it bleeding into their personal life. study sessions that do not help them at all (it's the blind leading the blind), dinner with the hinatas where hinata and kageyama are forced to play dolls with natsu. dinner at the kageyamas where hinata gets a haircut from miwa. going to eat out together but having no pocket change to do so (definition of broke fifteen year olds) so they try to find the cheapest vending machines.

everyone just assumed they'd get together eventually through high school because these boys were so obviously obsessed with each other. but then they never did and they stayed in the weird but comfortable in-between and confused the shit out of everyone

neither hinata or kageyama are romance-driven individuals at ALL so they never found out they had feelings for each other because they were just not fussed to dissect it. there's so much in their relationship that lays on top of their romantic love for each other that they find much more important

i think it isn't until they unofficially 'split' up that they realise 'actually i think i might be in love with this guy' but even then there's more important things then their love for each other. it doesn't shake them to their core or anything, it's just a bit heartbreaking because now they're apart and they only just came to terms with it.

funnily enough, they're not the type to be overthinking what the other is doing or getting jealous or possessive in the long interim. they know each other so well– they know exactly what the other would be doing and they respect it because they understand implicitly why their choices need to be made. it would have been the loss of understanding that would have really scared them, but they’re such soulmates i seriously doubt they would ever lose that

they are so secure in their relationship. they sort of implicitly know that at the end of the day, they'll be Them again because there's not really another option. all roads will lead back to each other. no one else completes and challenges the other like they do. so even though it can be painful, and there's a lot of obstacles through it all, life is long and winding and eventually they know they'll find the other again.

i think they would get with other people (especially i can see hinata doing that, i headcanon kageyama as demisexual so i think there would be less desire to experiment on his side) after high school and experiment and find out what they like and stuff. but they're always each other's number one.

yeah soulmatism at its finest

what WOULD hurt them is seeing the same sort of indescribable connection replicated by the other with someone else. it doesn't have to be romantic (it usually isn't), but knowing that other people have the privilege of growing beside the person they love above all else, but their dream forces them to be apart would def open up some wounds

nothing excites them more than playing against each other. it doesn't matter if its on the world stage or in someone's backyard

they have crazy eye sex through the net and everyone thinks they're freaks. straight teenage boys think they hate each other and make tiktok edits of their rivalry with brazillian phonk in the background. others just think they act gay for clout (loud incorrect buzzer)

probably had a impromptu makeout sesh in the locker rooms a few times. then they act completely normal after

their sisters fw them so bad. miwa and natsu text each other just to complain about how long it's taking for them to just... get married

kageyama offers to train natsu with volleyball a lot and offer her tips. miwa glams hinata up for special events on the house

when kageyama and hinata verse each other in a home game their families link up at one of their houses just to watch over dinner and after the game both kagehina go home together and just eat a late meal at whoever is hosting that night. they're arguing the entire time but it's chill

kagehina gets brand deals with rival companies alllllll the time

i think they actually start officially dating MUCH later in life. towards the end of their careers or after their careers as volleyball players. but at that point they've been in an unofficial relationship for twenty or so years and they act like it too.

idk if marriage and kids is for them tbh but i don't think it's necessarily out of the cards. i just think they'll be too distracted to settle for a long while. they have to practice extra long on how to be two functional adults. if they do get married i can see them being like... seventy when it happens haha

[liillyliilly]

His Diary

akaashi keiji x reader words; 10082 synopsis; For Akaashi Keiji, love meant letting someone know him better than he knew himself. It also meant being okay with letting her read his diary.

She decided that this was her new favorite book. It had all the right amounts of everything in it, drama, romance, depression, self-loathing. The journal she found was likely never written to be read. The journal he lost, the journal that Akaashi Keiji misplaced on a train going home from his editing job, he never expected to become a crux in his journey to love.

In all honesty, she didn’t even know it was a journal. It just seemed to be an episodic novel with a unique font, something along the vein of The Perks of Being A Wallflower. She only ever knew the leather-bound pages as a novel with no name. The author used a first-person perspective when writing and told the story of a young volleyball player who wanted desperately to find a passion, so he surrounded himself with others who had passion. What he seemed to enjoy more than playing the sport was writing though.

The author of the untitled book loved to read because the way he wrote made everything else she had read pale in comparison to the inky brilliance. He had captured teenager-dom with such sleight of hand that she believed his writing was made of magic and fairy dust. The story made her cry, made her groan, and made her feel second-hand embarrassment to an extreme she thought wasn’t possible.

When she read the first chapter, she realized she ought to pace her reading, because there were only so many entries. And she had no way of contacting or looking up the author, there was no information of who the author was on the back of the book. There was a Fukurodani Sticker, a school she remembers from her own time at a high school nearby, they were known for their volleyball skills and prowess, so she assumed maybe the author had some lived experience when it came to volleyball. Maybe that was a hobby aside from being a writer of such compelling stories.

She carried it everywhere from the day she picked it up on the floor of the train, it was always in her backpack, purse, and suitcase. She never left it alone, it had become a part of her. She felt like somehow this author reached into her heart and left fingerprints of his making into permanent fixtures of her anatomical structure. DATE: XX-XX-2013 TITLE: Alethiology; The Study of Truth

Today I realized that maybe I am all that I will be. My capacity has limits in comparison to others. A friend of a friend told me that their volleyball captain made a speech once, not to the whole team, just talking with buddies. His speech, or at least the parts I remember from it, was devastating. He said something like guys like Atsumu and all those geniuses, do things on a scale of 1-20, whereas normal guys like me do things on a scale of 1-10. Or maybe they have a denser more compact 1-10. And if 1-20 doesn’t work out, they try things from A to Z.

I’ve never thought of things like that. There’s always been a straightforward path for me, whereas, in comparison to Bokuto, he seems to have a much longer and more complex route ahead of him. Am I all that I will be? Is there a way for the normal guy to switch from 1-10 and try 1-20?

We have another game soon, maybe I can control more than I expect. Is flight into this world of geniuses possible? I can only control myself and my thoughts, but maybe there are external factors that contribute to my role on this team. My role in life as well.

Bokuto is asking for me, I need to go. Hope I can write again soon, but with all the games we’ll be playing I’m doubtful I can write with actual thoughts and not just tallies and plays from the games.

- A.K.

“I mean, who thinks of things like that Miwa?” She sits in the styling chair, getting a refresher on her hair. Miwa snips away lightly, inspecting each strand with duty and consideration for the entire look.

“Your author crush does.” Miwa brushes away some hair from Y/N’s shoulders, tidying up the apron wrapped around her.

She just rolls her eyes at Miwa’s comment. Flipping to the page in the book, tracing a finger over the deep black gel pen markings. Numbers and dashes and names of high schools against Fukurodani tell the story of the adventure at Tokyo’s national volleyball tournament from way back in 2013. She had barely started her second year of middle school in 2013, ripely being 14 years old.

Miwa and her sip some freshly made smoothies of Miwa’s creation, sitting at a table in the window of the entrance to the salon. Miwa bounces her foot that’s crossed over her leg and she pours over the entry once again. It was becoming addicting to choose one entry to re-read until she ingrained the stylistic choices into a deep long-term memory.

At that same moment, Bokuto Koutarou and his best friend Akaashi Keiji walk past Miwa’s Salon, attempting to plan a group hangout to celebrate Bokuto joining the MSBY Black Jackals team.

“I’ll need to make sure Konoha comes, and that he brings that cute friend of his for you,” Bokuto wiggles his eyebrows repeatedly, and Akaashi shoves him lightly on the shoulder.

“Konoha is dating that cute girl he brings around.” Akaashi clarifies. Bokuto looks stunned, but then he remembers them making out on his couch during movie night that one time.

Akaashi looks around the street for a moment, peeking into the windows and observing the various occupants. When he sees his journal, the one that’s been missing for a little over a year, he just has to get it back.

When Akaashi pulls Bokuto into the hair salon, and barely below a scream says, “You stole my journal!” pointing at the girl who was indeed holding his journal from high school, Bokuto feels like his head was put through a blender. There were three very distinct things occurring at that moment. A pretty girl was shoving a book into her bag looking very defensive, Akaashi was trying to take the aforementioned girl’s bag from her, and a girl who he assumed was the pretty girl’s friend had a pair of scissors pointing at Bokuto by the throat.

Akaashi was still trying to pull the bag away, the pretty girl was looking extremely scared, and the scissors girl had opened and closed them one too many times for Bokuto’s comfort.

“Listen, I think we should all just take a moment to pause.” Bokuto held his hands up, shuffling to outturn his pockets in a show of lack of violent intentions. The black-haired girl puts the scissors back into her half apron that’s around her waist and then folds her arms.

Bokuto then pries Akaashi away from the pretty girl who was now clutching her bag against her chest and sniffling a little. Akaashi did feel bad that he made such a bad first impression, but he swore she had his journal. His embarrassing high school journal, the same journal that had cataloged many things he wished he never had recorded down on paper.

Bokuto pushes Akaashi’s head down, forcing him into a deep bow. Bokuto follows suit and also bows.

“I’m sorry for, uh, trying to steal your bag. But I think you may have a book, that isn’t a book at all, but rather my journal.” Akaashi is now sitting at the table in the window, Bokuto, the black-haired girl, and the pretty girl also sitting with him.

Outside the evening had quickly set in, with the orange and pink colors racing to get to the skyline. The blue began to fade into a deep dark navy color. And the lights on the streets began to flicker on. The lights on the outside of the salon began to twinkle from the setting they had been placed on, fairy lights luring those with a need for a haircut into the salon.

Bokuto had his head on his hand, staring intensely at the girl who had taken Akaashi’s journal, sighing slightly at the way her lips pouted and shined from her lip gloss. The girl with the scissors had brought out two more glasses of thick smoothie.

She pulled out the journal from her Doughnut Macaroon-style crossbody bag and slid it over to Akaashi. Akaashi flipped through the pages, immediately recognizing it as his. His face goes red and he readjusts his glasses, and she realizes that this must be his journal. He even goes straight to the back cover and smiles at the sticker she had grown to love to trace with her pinkie when reading.

“I’m not done with it yet, so, I really do hate to say this, but you can’t have it back until I finish it.” She takes the book back and tucks it into her bag again. Akaashi looks dumbfounded, eyebrows raised and lips pursed into a line.

“You’re just going to keep private property? Even though you know it’s mine?” What a dauntless woman she was, to show what Akaashi considered to be audacity with the whole journal situation.

Bokuto chimes in at this point, “Akaashi, I think we should just let the pretty girl keep your little diary.” Bokuto then starts nodding his head up and down to try and get agreement from Akaashi. Akaashi scoffs.

“Okay, so it’s settled, my cutie of a best friend will keep the journal until she finishes it, we’ll get your numbers and she can contact y’all when she finishes the journal, and I get to cut both of y’all’s hair because honestly, it’s atrocious.” Leave it to Miwa to consolidate a plan in a matter of moments.

Miwa touched the spiky salt and pepper hair that Bokuto had, and Miwa’s expression turned sour when she felt the amount of gel on top of his head, then Miwa pulled out a photo of Yuki Ishikawa in a two-block cut and explained what color of black dye Miwa will use for Bokuto. For Akaashi, Miwa just did a trim and tidied up his sides to bring them slightly tighter into his face.

While annoyed, Akaashi does give her his number, along with his name, and Bokuto does the same with much more enthusiasm. After the haircuts are finished, Akaashi tries to pull Bokuto away from the salon, but Bokuto keeps doing the ‘call me later’ signal with his hand and blowing a kiss to her wistfully. She just waves to the both of them while Miwa giggles behind her dye-stained glove. DATE: XX-XX-13 TITLE: Meraki; Putting A Piece of Yourself Into Your Passion

I am the protagonist of the world. We lost but I am still alive, we lost but I loved the game. I came to the realization that it doesn’t matter if you are the best character, the most complex, or the most ‘genius’ of them all. It doesn’t matter because I am the protagonist. I can be the hero of my own story without ever having won first place in a big-name tournament.

Bokuto is graduating, and I’ll still be here, which is disappointing. He’s my best friend I think. Even if he’s the most annoying ass I’ve ever met, he’s still my best friend and I would never trade him for any other person in the entire world. Together we are the protagonists of the world.

Second place is just as accoladed as first place. If I wasn’t who I am, then maybe I would’ve gotten mad. The first-place winner is a rich school, they’ve been a powerhouse for decades at this point, and this win is just another notch on the belt. If I wasn’t who I am, especially after this tournament, maybe I would’ve gotten frustrated at myself for not doing enough. For not being a setter like Kageyama. Or a setter like Oikawa. That doesn’t matter though, I am a setter. I’ve worked hard to get where I am. But a human mind will always wonder why. And sometimes it's just because you’re unlucky.

Kenma told me about his loss to Karasuno, his sweaty hands made the ball slip in the final point. He laughed about it, he said that that was the best game of volleyball he’s ever played. When Kenma told Kuroo thanks for teaching him volleyball, I cried, but not as much as Kuroo did. They remind me of why I went to Fukurodani. I saw Bokuto’s passion for the sport. His passion encouraged mine, and look where we got to. We because the victors at the end of the war.

Mom made katsu chicken for dinner, I did some homework, and I had to put away my volleyball uniform for next year. I practiced in my backyard, alternating between overhead and underhand passes, seeing how long I could go without dropping the ball. Dad called me into the house for ice cream after thirty minutes elapsed.

I called Bokuto tonight before I went to bed. Told him that he’s my best friend and that I love volleyball. Bokuto agreed.

- A.K.

She was crying, and so she held the book out in front of her, resting it on her blanket. She finally had some faces to match with the words she was reading, and it all felt much too real. Bokuto did seem like the type of person to adopt and bring a person like Akaashi into his fold. But the way that Akaashi genuinely admired and appreciated his best friend was unparalleled and she felt like he would understand the exact way she felt about her best friend, Miwa.

Miwa and her met when she was fresh out of college. She hadn’t an idea of what to do in her life, while Miwa seemed to have her passion set out in front of her with her hair and makeup salon. When she got a haircut from Miwa and started ranting about her life, Miwa just told her to slow everything down. Take a gap year from life and just be a human. So, she picked up shifts at Miwa’s salon and moved in with her.

The best friends slowly became business partners as well, and an expansion to the salon was added, a small specialty bookshop that she ran, while Miwa continued to do hairstyling. Their customers were dedicated and loved to support their business. Branding remained solely under Miwa’s name, but she became everything else to the brand as well, the little addition that made the salon extra special.

When she started to cough a little from the way her heart was beating erratically from crying about Akaashi’s diary, she had to get out of bed and get a glass of water. Akaashi’s number was resting on her kitchen table. Miwa was watching some rom-com in the living room of their shared apartment. She brushed pasted the kitchen and sat next to Miwa.

“A good chapter?” Miwa threw a piece of popcorn into her mouth.

“He’s devastating. Who writes like they feel every emotion entirely?” She started crying again and Miwa laughed a little before rubbing her best friend’s back.

“You could always call him and tell him he’s a good writer if you need to talk about it. Sure it’s unconventional, but maybe he has more insights that you can cry to.” She grabbed a pillow and started hitting Miwa with it.

She did take Akaashi’s number into her room on her way back to bed though. Leaving the series of digits on her bedside table, she re-read the passage and cried again. She thinks she knows him better than most, but they aren’t even friends.

Since realizing he’s a person, and that Akaashi lived this story in the book. The story of his life recorded in his journal, she starts to wonder about what happened to him after he stopped writing in the diary. But she hasn’t finished the story yet, so she’ll have to see what happens next. Again, trying to pace herself, she puts the book away until tomorrow when she can read a little more.

Akaashi sits in his office, he’s still there and it’s much later than the clock would like to admit. The clock wondered if Akaashi would ever go home. But there he was, reviewing the different styles of manga serializations Udai Tenma wanted to try out for his next series. His haircut makes him feel a little colder because now the air can hit right behind his ear instead of being covered with his hair. He puts on a beanie to fight the chill.

When it gets too late at night, his mind tends to wander slightly. Just barely drifting out of his control, like the way a lily pad will drift to the center of a pond when the stem at the base of the connection is severed. He can’t dive into the pond to bring his thoughts back into his hands.

He thinks about her. The girl with his journal. The journal was a cheap 2,500 yen book, but he liked the paper, it was a cold press thicker GSM than most other paper forms. Gel inks went on smoothly to the paper, letting him get more words across by the second than if he was writing with a ballpoint. He remembers that from when he used to write in the journal in high school.

Throwing himself into the back of his seat, he rubs his face, his glasses almost falling off from how he runs his hands up from his chin to his forehead. Setting the glasses on his desk, he spins his chair a little. The clock screams at him, he takes the message from his dedicated clock and grabs his messenger bag.

On the train, he thinks about her again. Instead of getting irritated at how Bokuto essentially gave his journal away to a stranger again, he wonders what her thoughts are. Was his writing any good to warrant such a committed reader? Did she like his journal only because it was funny to read what his dramatic high school self wrote about?

He cringes thinking about all the potential things he wrote down. There’s no direct recollection of what he wrote down exactly, but he knows vaguely what was on his mind when he was writing. His ego, his insecurities, his favorite things. Lots about volleyball, Bokuto, and books. Once he wrote about his thoughts on sex, which is embarrassing for him that a grown woman is reading his teenage idealizations of intimacy.

It could be considered something unique to read. Akaashi settled into the belief that she was merely reading his journal because it was something different than typical books that were being published. Although, why she was reading his journal instead of a Haruki Murakami book was beyond him. Nothing beats his favorite literary giant.

Setting his bag on the coat hanger stand, and shrugging out of his long pea coat. He heats some stovetop ramen while listening to Bokuto talk over the phone, he was ranting about the same girl that Akaashi had had on his mind.

“Oh and those eyes of hers. Did you see them?” Of course, Akaashi saw them, they were big, bright, and astute. Akaashi hums in response, and Bokuto continues barreling through his late-night thoughts.

“I think we should invite her to my party. You know, the one to celebrate my big accomplishment.” In a different apartment, Bokuto spins a volleyball on his finger, but he keeps dropping it so he ends up just repeatedly tossing it into the air so he can satiate the desire to feel his fingers on the ball.

“Yeah, how about no.”

Bokuto asks why not, almost in a whining tone.

“Did you forget she has my journal still?” Akaashi put his bowl in the sink, putting on rubber gloves as he started to wash out the dish and then put it on the drying rack. He decided to finish all his dishes right now anyway since he still had the gloves on.

“Your diary can’t be that juicy, you didn’t do anything too dramatic in high school. Plus I know you wanna see her again too. Don’t pretend like you don’t have a piqued interest. Also, did I use piqued right?”

“You used it right, yes.”

He eventually agreed to let Bokuto invite her to the small get-together. Akaashi didn’t know why Bokuto kept referring to it as a party.

A week later, Akaashi realized that maybe Bokuto kept calling it a party because it had shifted from a friends-only gathering to a huge party at the park. Some other Fukurodani alumni helped to set up decorations in the central gazebo and make banners to hang all over the pavilion. Akaashi was mixing the punch at a table, while Konoha asked what he had been up to lately.

Kuroo and Kenma brought huge gifts for Bokuto, a PlayStation from Kenma, and a packet of potential sponsorship deals from Kuroo.

When she finally made her way to the pavilion with a small brown package, Akaashi couldn't care less about the party. She was wearing a tight-fitting black shirt with a tiered white and gold skirt, and her shoes were a pair of sneakers, but the whole outfit made Akaashi concede to Bokuto’s claim of her being “drool-worthy”. He had to remember that this was the same woman who had his diary. The whole conflict between physical attraction and mental frustration made for an entirely convoluted reaction to her presence.

She bows politely to Bokuto when he goes over to her, offering the gift with both hands, only then did Akaashi wonder how old she must have been. Bokuto had been talking to her more than him, and Bokuto had mentioned that she was a second-year middle schooler when Bokuto was in his third year. Akaashi did some mental math and realized that he, himself, must have been around three to four years older than her.

Akaashi forced himself to ignore the idea of a cute younger girlfriend that started to pester him in the back of his mind. He wanted his journal back, and that’s all this relationship was to him, a mutual exchange of her reading and then him eventually getting back his property. But with the way she had done her hair, Akaashi had a hard time focusing solely on wanting his diary returned.

She was glad that Bokuto appreciated the gift, she hadn’t known him longer than a week or so, and she had gone with a safe gift based on what she knew about him and why this party was even being thrown. She got him a wearable jump monitor that her dad had bought a month ago but never used, she was grateful for having a father who never threw things away. She also included some stickers that she had bought from a small sticker shop online, and some that she had made using Miwa’s craft supplies.

When the excitement of her being at the park died down, she made her way to a table, with a small plate of desserts. She observed how everyone interacted with each other, almost as if they had been friends since the dawn of time, and she believed that that very well might have been the case.

Akaashi stalked her from afar. He appreciated that she was similar to him in a way that mattered to him, she was a watcher. She would assess what was going on, who would talk to who, and how they would nonverbally communicate as well. He got so engrossed in watching her that he neglected to observe the others as well.

Specifically, Konoha, Washio, and Komi had grabbed a water cooler and had the full intention of dumping the water on Akaashi. It was payback for declining their invitations to various other parties from the last year. So there he was, not only soaked through with water but revealed from his vantage point unmistakably indicating to her that he must have been watching her. She laughed a little at the antics but then brought over a small cloth she had in her crossbody bag.

His white shirt was completely transparent, and his brown slacks had turned from a regular light brown into a dark musty brown. The only way to resolve the issue in her mind was to start dabbing at his chest with her handkerchief.

“I see that your friends have a peculiar method of exacting humor.” Her handkerchief eventually was too soaked through that she was just touching his chest with a cloth that had performed osmosis and was now at equilibrium with the water on his shirt.

“Yep.”

“Look, there’s a hoodie in my car, I know we aren’t too close, but it’s probably better to wear my oversized hoodie than to have your whole torso on display for the rest of the night.” She shoves her thumb in the direction of her car.

After making their way to her car, she digs through the trunk and pulls out a grey hoodie with the words ‘Miwa’s Salon’ embroidered on the back. He tugs at the back of his shirt to take it off and she widens her eyes before turning around. The hoodie is comfortable, with a soft fleece on the inside, and it smelt like lychee, vanilla, and surprisingly chocolate marshmallows. It smells like her and he wonders if he could have the scent bottled and then sprayed all over his house.

Suddenly he’s tugging at the collar of the hoodie and swallowing thickly, looking around at anything but her figure in front of him.

“We should probably get heading back to everyone now that you’ve changed.” She goes to start walking to the gazebo, but Akaashi’s words stop her.

“How well do you know me?” She tilted her head and said something about not following along with what he was saying, so he continued, “Well, you’re reading a part of me, you know with my journal, my internal thoughts and hopes and dreams and all that. So, how well do you know me?”

She timidly bites down on her bottom lip, formulating a response. But Akaashi surmises that she must not really care much for the conversation, so he, unfortunately, starts to run his mouth and the words just spiral out.

“You know, it doesn’t matter, to you, it’s just a story about a teenage boy who played volleyball. It’s silly to assume you’d try and actually-”

She cuts in, “I know you’re a considerate person. And it's not just about the volleyball stuff, it's about you, finding yourself to some degree. I know you are polite. I know you’re allergic to beating around the bush, you’re direct and blunt. I know that you can overthink too much.”

Akaashi repeatedly adjusted his glasses, and she stepped just a little bit closer to him, folding her hands behind her back and leaning in slightly so she didn’t have to talk as loudly.

“You also have a bad habit of thinking you can control more than you can, one of the interesting things in your journal is how you jump back and forth between knowing what you can control and then inflating from stress and thinking you can micromanage the entire world. You said you can control the court, but in reality, that’s your worldview. You conclude you can control the entire world sometimes.”

He regrets starting the conversation because this revelation of how much she knew about him exposes him. Akaashi didn’t know how to continue with the gap in knowledge between the two of them.

He only knew she was younger than him, she was incredibly perceptive, and she smelled so freaking good he just wanted to shove her into the backseat of her car and kiss her. Akaashi’s thoughts could not have been his own at this point, he was going crazy. He must have gotten sick from the cold water being dumped on him he speculates.

When they get back to the gazebo, Akaashi thanks Bokuto for the party and heads home. She stays at the party, talking to a select few people and wondering what exactly she said that scared Akaashi off so quickly.

Sitting in the tub, Akaashi rests his head against the shower wall and lets the hot water filter his congestion that didn’t exist. His hand twitched over to his phone, which was on the toilet seat playing some piano music that he hoped would alleviate all his bad habits. He wonders if she will text him soon. If she would text him ever. He felt like he was younger, it was ridiculous that one person would have such an effect on him to this degree.

After the party, she sits with Miwa, disclosing everything that happened at the party.

“And then he just ran off?” She nods at Miwa repeating what she just said. “Girlie, you gave him an in-depth review of his personality and you’re shocked that he ran away? Sometimes you can be too judicious for your own good.”

“Should I text him an apology?”

“Are you sorry for anything?” Miwa rolled her eyes, hating when she got like this. Miwa never allowed her to apologize for things that didn’t need to be apologized for.

“No.” She rubs her arm and chews the inside of her cheek.

“I think you think he’s hot, I mean, you understand this man on a deeper level that he now grasps, and you said he had the chest and torso of some kind of slutty librarian/gym rat agglomeration.” Miwa takes a bobby pin out of her hair and runs a hand through her bob cut, “If it was me, I would send him a picture of the journal and ask for nudes, or else the book gets it.”

She hits Miwa with a pillow, and Miwa realizes she really should throw the pillows away or else getting hit with them would be a very painful recurrence.

Miwa goes to sleep, but she stays up just a little later. Eyeing Akaashi’s number that lay painfully glaring at her. She decides to read more of his diary instead of texting him. DATE: XX-XX-13 TITLE: Weltschmerz; Sadness When The World Isn’t As It Should Be

Summer sucks. Bokuto has a training thing for some team he wants to be a part of in the future. All my friends that were third years are essentially gone, actually out and living life, and I’m stuck here. At least there’s only one more year left of high school. And then I can go and work for a literary magazine.

I miss people. Despite their failings, I do need people in my life.

You can only play so much volleyball in a day by yourself before your motivation is gone by the third week of playing alone.

It’s times like these that make me think about the future. I don’t spend much time with girls per se, but they are pretty and nice. Our manager is a girl, but she has a boyfriend. She’s chill.

Sometimes, when I feel like something is wrong, I turn to the idea of love. I’ll admit that I love a few things in life, but that’s only because I think love is something truly special that you can’t just fling around. I ‘like’ things more often than I ‘love’ them. Volleyball, my best friend, my family, books, and writing.

Will I know when I’ve found the love of my life? My parents said they knew they loved each other from the first moment they met. Will I feel like that too? Will I know it’s love? How can a feeling be recognized as a specific feeling? How do I know what anger feels like, besides that heat and pressure and red hot sun? How do I know what sadness feels like, besides water, coldness, and finishing a run? Would love have those distinct colors and associations? Or would love just become the person I love?

I don’t believe in soulmates. Definitely not. I think people are infinitely compatible, and it all depends on our ability to communicate and agree to grow with a person for the rest of our lives. I believe we make our own soulmates, through sharing experiences and agreeing to be ourselves no matter what. I told my mom this and she just smiled at me like I still had a lot of life left to live.

But don’t I have enough experience to know what I want? Or at least to formulate my own opinions and beliefs? I may be 17 but I am not an idiot.

Or did my mom’s look of a wistful future just mean that when I fall in love I’ll know it and I’ll look back to these words and think I’m completely ridiculous?

Dad made spaghetti for dinner. It was gross so we ended up having to order udon from the place I like instead.

We watched a movie Mom wanted to show me, the title was something like Wildly Wealthy Westerners or something. It was just about rich people from America and Canada, plus a subplot of romance between a basic guy and this rich heiress girl who just couldn’t be together because of rich people's reasons. It was silly but the music was good. The ending kiss scene was hot, he shoved her into the backseat of his jeep and I swear I heard Mom sigh.

- A.K.

She didn’t expect him to text her on Monday of the following week, asking if they could meet for tea at a place near his work during his lunch break. She surprised herself by agreeing to it, and then by cheekily calling it a date.

Akaashi shoved his phone into Udai’s face, “What does this mean?”

Udai pushed his bangs back and inspected the text messages on Akaashi’s phone. “I think it means she agreed to go on the date you asked her on?”

“But I didn’t ask her on a date?”

“Oh, but you definitely did. Oh and tea? What dork takes a girl for tea on a first date?” Udai pushed Akaashi’s phone away and clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth. Then Udai’s face breaks into a blinding grin, “Is this your little diary thief? And the one who gave you the sweater at Bo’s party? Oh, it is isn’t it, do you have a picture of her?”

Akaashi briefly flashed a photo Bokuto had taken with her in Udai’s direction.

“DAMN! I need me my own diary thief,” Udai raised his eyebrows and started laughing a little, and then he ruffled his hair and used his fingers to zoom into her face, slowly, he started moving down the picture to her body. Akaashi pulled his phone back before Udai got too far down.

The clock on Akaashi’s desk wanted him to leave for an early lunch and by an early lunch, an hour early. So there he sat at the small cafe on the corner by his office building, rubbing his sweaty hands against the legs of his pants, waiting for her. She was five minutes early and was surprised to see him already at a table, so she decided to have a little fun.

Since his back was turned, she went up to him and tapped his shoulder, when he turned around she let out a small “Boo!” and put her hands up into an imitation of claws, trying her best to seem scary. He just thought she was adorable. He motioned for her to sit down.

Resting her crossbody bag against the back of the chair, she took a seat. Akaashi was able to wave down a waiter, who gave them a single menu to look over.

“What kind of tea do you like?” She asked, using her pointer finger to scan through the options the cafe had available.

“I like black tea, and sometimes chamomile tea.” He asked her for her favorite type, and she told him. He tried to commit her favorite to memory as quickly as possible.

Eventually, they had their tea, and the silence started to set in. Between sips, Akaashi would try to figure out how to say what he wanted to say. But he thought it was all too bold. So he told her a little about his life, his work, and his friends and she did the same, returning statements in a unique fashion about her life. Her word choice was special, calculated even. She was like him in another way that mattered, a calculated, intentional way of speaking.

She could always make him yearn to be a little more considerate of his words. Until she managed to pry them out of him.

“So why am I here?” She stirs a little more sugar into her tea, then pauses from drinking her tea to take a sip of her water.

“I want one of your journals.”

She laughs before realizing he’s entirely serious, “How do you even know that I have any journals to lend to you? For all you know, I could be living a journal-less life.” She waves her small stirring spoon around, before putting it into her mouth.

“I can’t explain it, but I know you have journals. Only someone with a journal of their own would be so obsessed with another’s.” Akaashi takes the spoon from her mouth and uses it to stir some sugar into his tea. Her mouth gapes for a moment while he smirks, looking right into her intelligent eyes.

The next day they have tea again, and she gives him one of her journals from high school.

“Don’t read it all in one go.” She pauses, “I don’t write nearly as well as you do, so don’t scrutinize my words the way you do all your mangakas’ words.”

Akaashi nods.

He read it all in one night. He calls her in the middle of said night.

“Who the hell is this Ito kid? When did you and he start talking? Just outta nowhere he pops up at the end of your last entry. Where’s the careful recollection of all your interactions with him?” Akaashi is exasperated, running his hand through his hair. He disagreed with what she said about her writing.

She was compelling and interesting, and she most definitely had his heart. Her high school experience had been so different from his, and she seemed to be much more optimistic about life than he was. Despite her calling him a realist, he believed that in comparison to her, he was a total pessimist.

She explained to him about Ito, and that he was a short-lived crush she had had at the end of her second year in high school. Akaashi was glad when she said she didn’t even talk to him anymore. Based on the way she had written about him, Akaashi thought that Ito would be the love of her life, and Akaashi was slowly realizing maybe his heart was in the process of making her the love of his life.

“When do I get the next journal?” Akaashi wanted to keep talking to her despite the lateness of the hour.

“You don’t. I told you to pace yourself, I only have one of yours so you’re only getting one of mine.” She was lying on her stomach on her bed, slightly kicking her feet while talking to Akaashi.

Akaashi groans but tells her he’ll return the journal next week when he can have another long lunch break. She says she’ll be there.

Akaashi recalls when he remembered his diary was lost.

It had been a long day at work, and he wanted nothing more than to go home. His mom hadn’t remembered his apartment address, so she sent one of his old journals to his work office. He put it into his satchel and made his way home.

On the train, there had been a slight jostling. And Akaashi hadn’t noticed the journal falling out of his bag and under his seat.

When he exited the train, she had gotten onto it. She sat down in the same seat he had. Right when Akaashi started walking to the stairs to exit the station, she reached down under the seat to stow away her bag, only to be met with a rough material. And for a moment, if they had just turned around, their eyes would’ve met right as the train pulled away.

When he finally got home, he unpacked his bag, looking to put away his journal safely into a box with other memorabilia from high school. When he dumped his bag upside down, shaking everything out, he just couldn’t find his journal. When going home from work the next day, he had asked all the employees if they had seen a leatherbound notebook. None turned up.

If there ever was a moment that could’ve changed the future, that was what it would’ve been. If the train hadn’t jostled. If Akaashi Keiji hadn’t been tired from work and forgot to check for the journal on his way out of the station. If she hadn’t sat right where he had been sitting, and most definitely, if she didn’t love a good book, then it all would’ve turned out differently.

But that’s not the story that’s being told. The story being told is of Akaashi Keiji realizing that to love someone, you have to accept that they may know you better than you know yourself.

It had been six months, and she was close to finishing the journal. Somedays she didn’t read at all, others she read three entries and wanted to binge the rest of the diary.

They went for tea every single week. Sometimes twice. Then other times, he would take her around Tokyo to go exploring. They went to every museum, every library, every cafe that specialized in tea. He figured that they ought to be on an even playing field when it came to how well they knew each other, so instead of getting more journals from her, they traded lists of their top one hundred favorite books.

She had put three Haruki Murakami books on her list and Akaashi wanted to hold her face in his hands and kiss her.

But they were just friends. Friends who knew each other better than Akaashi was comfortable with. She knew what he would order before he said it, and he knew what she was going to comment before she stated it. When she asked him about his experience with failure, he knew that she had gotten in too deep.

She knew more about him than he expected her to, she knew all about the silly things that rattled around in his brain, and although it had been a journal from high school, he knew that people stayed pretty similar throughout life. So when she looked at him, she didn’t just see professional editor Akaashi Keiji, she saw a teenager who wondered what place he had in the world as well. She saw him as acne-ridden and languid with life. He wanted to control her perspective of him and he couldn’t do that now, because she had the key to his past and the map of his future.

So he tried to put some space between them. Just in case. Maybe it was a horrible tendency to overthink, no, he knew it was his horrible overthinking tendency. There were so many ways their relationship could go. He could completely crush her, to be completely crushed himself in turn.

Walking the edge of a knife with her. Balancing on the blade of friendship, if he fell onto one side, with no cuts, then they could have a happy relationship. If he cut himself on that blade, then the worst-case scenario would be that she realizes she doesn’t like him back and then there’s just someone who knows him too well out in the world.

When he hadn’t texted her in four weeks and her messages were left on read, she decided to finish the journal and be done with it. Their time as friends was short-lived she thought. She thought there may have been something more for the pair of them. And suddenly all the depressing love songs became about him. Which made her resentful, because who ruins ‘Iris’ by The Goo Goo Dolls like that for someone? DATE: XX-XX-14 TITLE: Quatervois; A Crossroads

I graduated today. I went through that book of fancy words Mom gave me and stumbled across this one. Quatervois, a crossroads. Does this count as a crossroads?

The magazine I want to work for said I could have an internship while I attend college. An internship in the manga editing department. Was I not good enough for the literature department? Is it because of my age? I think my essay and grades were good enough to at least qualify me for a chance to interview in that department. But they only let me interview for the editing department.

Does that make me a career failure? I like the magazine, but I’m not sold on the department they want me to go into.

Washio called me to congratulate me, he said that I was finally crossing over into the real world. I’m pretty sure I’ve been living in the real world for as long as I’ve been alive, but Washio made it seem like things would be so different for me. I digress.

When nothing seems straightforward, and you come to a fork in the road and you have two options that you can’t see down, how do you choose which road to go down? The one lined with flowers, or the one with a dirt path that could eventually have something more alluring at the end.

- A.K.

On the penultimate page of the journal was a glued-down picture of Akaashi wearing his graduation suit, and holding his graduation scroll, his parents stood on either side of him grinning proudly at their only child. Maybe she should’ve checked the book from the last page and then started reading the front. But she didn’t want spoilers, that’s why she never checked the second to last page.

She texted Akaashi and said she finished the journal and was ready to return it. When he didn’t respond, but had read the message, she texted Bokuto asking for some clarification. She asked if Akaashi had said anything about her that would’ve indicated why he was mad. Bokuto just said that Akaashi wasn’t mad at all. So now she was confused. If he wasn’t upset, then why was he ignoring her?

Instead of going to their tea place, she goes to his office during lunch. She scans the buttons, looking for his department.

“Hey diary thief, whatcha doing here?” A shorter guy with shaggy black hair and a hoodie with a denim jacket over it comes around to her and presses the elevator button.

“Are you going to the Manga Editing Department?” She checked before entering the elevator with the shaggy-haired guy, who had introduced himself as Udai Tenma, but she could just call him Tenma. He confirms and then doubly checks her identity as the same person Akaashi had been talking about and spending all his lunch breaks with.

“It’s funny that you know about the journal, I came here to return it finally. Probably much to Akaashi’s delight.” She adjusts her bag across her shoulders, giving a short sigh.

“No, Akaashi loves that you have his journal. At first, he was a little annoyed, but now it’s kinda like you have a little piece of him all the time. I told him just to get you a necklace with his name on it, but noooooo Udai I can’t do that because I’d essentially be confessing if I did something like that.” Udai did a brilliant imitation of Akaashi, even going as far as to push his shoulders back to make him seem taller and with a broader build.

Udai turned slowly to face her, eyes wide and jaw dropped, “Please pretend I don’t exist, I never said anything about Akaashi’s undying love,” He froze, “Also ignore what I just said.”

Udai got out of the elevator on the floor below the editing department. She could hear him start to criticize himself and say he owes Akaashi so many more favors and solids now.

She walked through the office, lightly admiring all the manga panels, all the stories that had come out of this building astounded her, it had been a while since she last read a manga, so she considered picking one up on her way out. Maybe she’d read the one written by Udai.

Then she sees him. Akaashi, with a pencil in one hand and an eraser in the other. His head is moving slightly, due to the music playing through his headphones she assumes. He fidgets in his chair, wiggling the seat around. Despite being angry at him, he was still adorable when he was engrossed in his work.

“You’re being childish.” She handed Akaashi the journal. Akaashi had to take off his headphones when he saw that his journal was being thrust into his face, he dropped his pencil and turned around only to be met with her. Even though she seemed to be upset with him, she still looked beautiful.

Akaashi looked confused, so she clarified, “Ghosting? Really? You could have just said you didn’t want to be friends.” Her tone is sharp and penetrating.

It wasn’t the being friends part, it was the part where he wanted her to be entirely his. An overwhelming desire to attach her to him in all senses. He swallows and takes the journal back. He wants to ask what her thoughts were, and what she came to understand about him. Yet, he knew she was upset with him. He would be upset with her too if she did what he had done.

He had completely blown his chance, hadn’t he? The one woman who had read the teenage journal and still wanted to be friends. Maybe her knowing more about him wouldn’t be too bad at all, maybe that’s exactly what he needed.

“I don’t want to be friends.” She starts to sniffle, she quickly runs the sleeve of her shirt onto her eyes. Akaashi rushed the next part out, “I can’t be just friends with you I’m afraid. I think I want more.”

She blinks rapidly before regaining composure and putting her hand on his shoulder. “I think you need to sort out your feelings. Because if you really wanted more, you wouldn’t have treated me like I was disposable. You wouldn’t have ignored me. So, figure it out, and let me know what the result is. You know where to find me.”

She rubs her thumb on his cheek in a parting gesture. He remembers when she did that for the first time, around three months ago. They were at a library he had found in a far corner of Tokyo, and he was talking about a book that Udai hadn’t understood at all, which made him irate that Udai could skim over such an important story. They were in their little section, with dim lights and a stack of books they wanted to talk about.

As he was waving his hands around, trying to show her the pages and lines he was referencing in the book, when she reached over and brushed her thumb against his cheek, the rest of her fingers resting along his jaw and lower cheek. Her palm barely contacts his chin.

“You had a little mark there. But I think it’s just a cute little freckle, it won’t wipe off.” She brushes against his skin again, and when the mark doesn’t disappear, she leans back into her chair, waiting for Akaashi to begin again. When he starts talking again about the book, he keeps stumbling and stuttering over his words.

She gave a small wave before leaving his office space. Akaashi's co-workers just turned their heads to watch her exit, heads sticking out of cubicles, and then in a blink, they all turned to face Akaashi with disappointed faces, shaking their heads and clicking their tongues. Then, they went back to work and Akaashi was sitting at his desk with his journal brazenly staring at him.

He had one chance to make it right. So he set aside Udai’s manga draft, knowing he could go through it in less than an hour, and he picked up his pencil, writing one more entry in his journal.

He can only wait a week before giving it to her when he shows up to her apartment unannounced. Miwa opens the door and rolls her eyes, but letting him in.

“I gotta run and get some new specialty scissors. I’m not afraid to use them in an unintended use if I get back and she’s crying.” Miwa motions her fingers from her eyes to his. Akaashi gives her a thumbs up.

When she comes out of her room, she inspects him on the couch, he’s holding his journal.

“Read the last page for me. It’s an extended edition.” He jokes somewhat. She sits next to him and reads his ‘extended edition’. DATE: XX-XX-XX TITLE: Micawber; An Eternal Optimist

I was stupid. Believe me, I know I was a whole idiot and a half.

Here’s to giving up realism and embracing optimism.

You knew who I was before I knew you. I was scared that you would know too much. That’s hilarious, right? I wanted you to know me, and yet there I was completely afraid to let you get too close, but you were already close. It’s not just what words were contained here, although I re-read my journal and there are definitely some things I should’ve self-censored.

You were what made the entire difference. Your ability to perceive me as a whole rather than a sum of my parts was the distinction that was made.

With you, I truly am a protagonist. Not a side character anymore, but the main character who shares the limelight with his love interest. Although, I have a distinct feeling that you may be more of a main character than me. But, I know you’d say you digress.

In your journal, you mentioned once how you believed that a good story can compel you to be changed. How characters drive a real tangible change in a person. Did I do that for you? At least a little bit? I know I was changed when I read your story, I realized that maybe I liked you a little more than just liking you.

Please don’t think I am mean. I was cruel, rude, and inconsiderate to you. Ghosting for more than a month because I was worried is likely going down in my personal history as the worst thing I’ve ever done to you. But I’m dedicated to never doing anything bad to you ever again. I’ll never hurt you, and I’ll never lie.

I’m optimistic that you like me a little. Maybe even a little more than like.

So, tell me why I still feel worried. Is this feeling even worried? Or is this what love feels like? The desperation to not hurt you in any way. The pang of knowing that I am myself with you. And, yes, the physical magnetism that makes me feel just a little more like a teenager when I am with you.

I think this feeling is love. I just think it’s so overwhelming that I ended up making it into a negative emotion instead of what it is.

I’m sorry. Forgive me or I really won’t know what to do with all these feelings that flit around in my heart for you.

I love you.

- Yours, Akaashi Keiji

She knew he was watching her. She had her nose in his journal, reading what he had written for her.

“Can you get me a tissue?” Akaashi handed her one. He was ready to say his goodbyes.

When she closes the journal, he looks at her with curious eyes. She smiles.

“Best book ever.”

He grabs her by the back of her head and kisses her. She held his face in her hands, tilting her head slightly and he hummed into her mouth. His nose was cold on her face, but the warmth of his mouth contrasted with the frostiness. His other hand grips her hip, trying to pull her closer to him. Despite them being already so close, he wanted her to envelop him.

Then he was pressing her down onto her couch, both hands on her hips. When she wrapped a leg around his waist he thought his heart was going to jump out of his chest. Her head was on the arm of the couch, and he had moved from her mouth to the side of her face to her neck, to right above her bra, leaving a trail of his making. He was glad she was wearing a low-cut top because it made it easier for him to pull the shirt down so he could reach more of her skin.

In contrast to him, she felt soft and pliable. She also felt wholly his in this moment.

Her hands were in his hair, pulling the strands in a mellow methodology, not wanting to hurt him almost. She wanted his hair just a little longer, but the short hair tickled her neck, so she was happy with the length it was currently.

The top of her chest was creamy and supple. He let his tongue brush out once, twice, before going back up to kiss her again. He licked at her bottom lip, and she opened her mouth just enough for him to run his tongue into it for a moment, before biting at her bottom lip in thanks.

“You taste like sugar.” He was hot in the face and had some hair sticking to his forehead. She pushed his bangs back tenderly, his chest was still rapidly moving up and down trying to catch his breath. He went in for another kiss, still short of breath, so she had to intervene.

“Slow down loverboy, you need to breathe, or else you can’t keep going.” She laughs a little and he can feel the way her body carries the laugh from her chest to her stomach. She moves in close to his ear, “And that would be a zero-sum game for us both.”

He nods, and she draws his head down to rest on her chest.

“Is this better or worse than that fantasy you had about making out with a girl in the backseat of a car?” She recalls one of his entries from his journal.

He rubs his face against her, inhaling deeply. “This is way better. But we’re still gonna kiss in the back of my jeep, and soon at that.”

She hums a little in response.

The next year, Akaashi and her moved in together, Miwa was glad because now she could finally walk around her apartment without clothes on (despite her doing that when they were roommates anyway). Bokuto was glad to see that Akaashi finally had someone to read his confusing books and that he didn’t have to read another one ever again. Udai would occasionally make a joke about if it didn’t work out with Akaashi she had a place in his awaiting arms. Akaashi threatened to work for another manga magazine and Udai would be stuck using only Grammarly. That usually shut Udai up pretty quickly.

They both kept detailed journals. And when they finished them, they would let the other read them. Akaashi let her read all his past journals as well, and she let him read her diaries.

Maybe love isn’t what you expected at first, maybe it's not even a feeling you want to feel at that moment, or for that person. But love works out for the best in the end. Whether that’s with a best friend, a lover, a child, or even a book.

For Akaashi Keiji, love meant letting someone know him better than he knew himself. It also meant being okay with letting her read his diary.

[sijopolang]

Supportive big sisters (and a brother) all around 🥹

[tarousbaby]

ONE FOR ME !

- KAGEYAMA TOBIO STORY

best friend's brother trope !

kinktober day one!

implied praise kink, oral, small age gap, penetration, pwp

masterlist <3

sypnosis

when you're spending your weekend at your best friend miwa's house, you weren't expecting your house party to be crashed by none other than her little brother. either way, you aren't complaining.

warnings: time skip! (you are 24, tobio is 20), alcohol, mentions of smoking

word count: 3973

the kageyama house had definitely seen better days, you decided, when you walked through the door.

miwa cracked a half-smile, before grimacing when she swiped some dust off the doorframe. she turns to you as you kick off your shoes, and laughs. "it just needs a bit of fixer-upping!" she argues, which earns a small giggle out of you.

"there's no task too small for me," you retort, as she leads you to the bedroom hall.

"um, so you're going to have to stay in tobio's old room, i hope that's alright," she sighs, stopping outside the farthest door. there's a few nicks in the doorframe, probably from repeated slamming of the door. it'd been a while since you'd been in there. since your senior year of high school, which was weird considering you were now throwing your graduating party for college.

"no, it's fine," you assure her, pushing the door open. it was kept clean, clearly only used on the rare occasions he chose to come home. he had a nice bed, at least, big and comfy.

you plop your bag down on his desk chair, and sit down on the bed. miwa watches, biting her lip, still unsure if you were actually okay with it. "i mean," you drawl, "it's only for a weekend, right?"

her shoulders visibly sag with relief, and she nods with a beam. "only a weekend," she assures, then her smile turns devilish, "now, i think we have a party to plan."

two days later, you're standing in the masses of people you'd met in your years of college, and some you hadn't. there's a red beer cup in your hand, and every now and then miwa pops up to thank you ten times over for helping.

you'd managed to clean the house while she went out and bought the supplies. the party had turned out just as you'd hoped, streamers and lights hanging from the banisters. miwa had even dug out her old sound system from high school.

you prefered to stand in the back, by the kitchen island, sipping on a drink and watching the partygoers around you. it was easier that way, especially knowing miwa was going to get shit-faced and you'd have to be the one to clean up the majority of things.

miwa, ever the stylist, had dressed you up in honor of the night. she'd managed to convince you into wearing a tiny black skirt and a lacey white cami. true to her actual profession, she'd messed around with your hair a bit too.

now, you watched with delight as miwa made her way through the crowd, men hanging off her arms fighting for her attention as she tried to have a genuine conversation with everyone who'd attended. it was hilarious to watch her dodge them all, knowing she had a very loyal boyfriend just a few towns away.

miwa stumbled over to you, babbling the whole time. she leaned heavy against your side, sipping out of her own solo cup. she slurred your name, heavy breaths fanning across your cheek. you resist the urge to laugh at her. "hey, how's the party goin'?"

"it's alright, miwa, are you having fun?" you ask softly, smiling at her. she nods excitedly.

"i'm gonna order some more pizza," she says, pulling out her phone, "any requests?"

you contemplate for a moment. "pepperoni and mushrooms?" she wrinkles her nose, but types it into her phone along with a long list of other foods. "do you mind waiting outside for it?"

you shake your head, "not at all. you go have fun!"

she lets out a short huff, suddenly sober. "well, i want you to have fun too," she pouts. you brush her off with a wave of your head, pressing the order button on her phone.

"it's fine, miwa, really. i'm enjoying myself. i need a little air anyway."

"if you say so," she mumbles, before perking at the call of her name. she giggles out a goodbye before running off to the person who'd called for her. you sigh with a soft shake of your head.

outside is cool, the summer air warm and hazy, but the wind cooling down the temperature considerably. it's nice against your sweaty skin, and you tie your hair up to get it off the back of your neck as you try and take in deep breaths.

the scent of smoke and alcohol was too heavy in there, it almost made you claustrophobic. you sit down on the step of the porch, the stone slab cutting into the backs of your thighs as you try to push down your skirt as far as it could go to no avail.

your head thumps with the sounds of the party inside, and you finish off your drink before placing the empty cup beside you. your hands come to rest in your lap, fingers tapping on the backs of your hands as you wait.

it's only a few minutes before a car pulls up.

your brows furrow. it definitely should've taken way longer than that, considering how long miwa's order was and how late it was. standing up, you brush off your skirt as you make your way down the porch.

a figure slips out of the car, slamming the door behind him and walks right up to you.

tobio.

"oh!" you startle, jumping as he stands a few feet away from you, "tobio, i didn't know you'd be coming home..." you say, a bit awkward as you rub at the back of your neck.

his dark blue eyes rake up your body, flashing under the moonlight. you pretend not to notice the way they catch on the edges of your skirt and the lace of your cami. eventually, they meet your eyes.

he's grown up. a lot.

you'd seen him, in photos from miwa, but nothing compared to how he looked in person. almost like a real life adonis. you can see how chiseled he is through his compression shirt and baggy sweats. his pale skin glistens, and he smells of freshly applied cologne.

"what are you doing here?" his voice is gruff, but not unkind. he looks behind you to the party, and then to the dozens of cars parked along the sidewalk. "why's half the goddamn town here?"

his tone is a little more pressing at that second question, to which you bite your lip. miwa would've told you if she knew tobio was coming home, and on top of that she probably wouldn't have given you his room.

behind you, the sound of some bass-boosted song plays.

"miwa threw a party," you say, trying not to sound stupid or awkward, "we didn't think you'd stop by." you still remember the little boy he used to be, always angry and frustrated, tossing a volleyball around in the back yard as you and miwa giggled at him when he messed up.

he never talked to you much, other than weird gazes you'd catch whenever you were over. it was no secret little tobio had a crush on his big sister's best friend. he was too young then.

he scoffed, "i didn't even think miwa still came by here."

you watch as he shoves his hand in his pockets, for some reason unable to meet your eyes now. you shrug, tucking a fallen strand of hair behind your ear. "to be fair, you don't stop by very often either," you argue.

he rolls his eyes, but it has no bite to it. he knows you're right. you beckon him forward, and suddenly waiting for the pizza floats to the back of your mind. "want a drink?" you ask.

"sure," he laughs, a little breathless and follows you inside.

nobody notices the two of you slip back in, too busy with themselves and others to be bothered. he follows you to the kitchen, always only a step behind you as you worm through the crowd. eventually, you break through to your previous spot and show him the arrangement of drinks to pick from.

you can feel him behind you, the warmth of his body heat. he leans over you, his pec pushing into your shoulder. your face alights, and he grabs a wine bottle and pops off the cork. very sophisticated.

he takes a sip from the bottle, and you watch as a bit of red dribbles down the side of his mouth. as he places the bottle down, your hand subconsciously raises and wipes at it.

tobio raises a brow, a small chuckle falling from his lips. his eyes meet yours, and you quickly look away, wiping your thumb on your shirt.

he stands there, behind you, eyes stuck on you as you rub at the back of your neck. a group of people come bustling into the kitchen, clearly drunk and cups of beer in hand.

you shrink back instinctively, and your back comes to meet tobio's chest. the kitchen wasn't very big to begin with, but with an extra seven people there was barely enough space to extend your arms.

tobio's hand rests on your shoulder, fingers digging into your flesh in an almost protective way. you can smell his cologne, stronger this time, and your lashes flutter.

you don't even know what happens next, but later you're told someone had slipped on an empty solo cup, knocking into someone else. in the end, you ended up with one whole beer cup spilled directly on your chest, soaking you to the bone.

you shriek, the stench of beer wafting up, but your scream is hidden under the layers of party sounds. but then, your whole world twists as your whirled around and buried into tobio's chest.

your brain starts to slow for a second, enveloped in his warm embrace. there's nothing you want to do more in that moment than wrap your arms around his waist and properly hug him. but your chin lifts just in time to see him shove the guy who'd poured his cup on you.

"who the hell do you think you are?" he shouts, lip curled back in a snarl, arm wrapped protectively around you.

it was nice.

but he was also your best friend's little brother.

the guy stumbles back, raising his hands as if to say, "i'm innocent" but tobio doesn't care for that. he continues to shout, and one of the guys friends looks to you for help.

taking in a deep breath, you pull yourself back from his grip, catching his attention. you place both your hands on his chest, pushing him back slightly.

"hey, shh," you coo, "it's fine, it's just a shirt."

"no!" tobio shouts, "that guy's a douche and you deserve an apology."

you look at him weakly, unable to find the words to fight back. he breaks then, shoulders sagging upon seeing your expression. he grabs your hand, and trudges towards the bedroom hall. "c'mon," he huffs.

he stops right outside his room, and you don't even get the chance to protest because he's pulling you inside in under a second. he falls short though, upon seeing it.

in your sleep the night prior you'd managed to kick his blankets all the way to the end of the bed, his pillows displayed messily across the top. your bag was open at his desk, some of your clothes hanging on the back of his chair. you wince. "I didn't get to clean..."

his lips part, and he blinks a few times, still staring at his bed. "you stayed here?"

you sigh, "yes, and i'm so sorry. miwa said it was fine, so i assumed she texted you. again, so so sorry--"

he cuts you off, "no, it's fine. just surprised, that's all."

you purse your lips. "you sure?"

he nods, and he turns to you. you immediately notice how glued his eyes are to your breasts, your white shirt soaked through to openly show the fact you hadn't worn a bra.

your nipples peak through the shirt, and shame courses through you. you shy away, arms crossing in front of you as you look to the side. you shuffle off, overly aware of his eyes on you, as you begin to dig through your bag.

"fuck."

tobio frowns, "what's wrong?"

you run a hand through your hair, pulling out the tie. "this was my last clean shirt."

you can practically hear tobio's heart skip a beat with how startled he looks. you look at him helplessly, still attempting to cover up. you move to leave, an excuse of stealing something of miwa's when he blocks you with an arm.

"you can take something of mine," he says, biting on his lip as he stares away, "i...i don't want you going back out there looking like that."

you almost want to roll your eyes and say, "looking like what?" but you don't. you knew after years of growing up with him that he was naturally protective. he steps away once he's assured you won't make a break for the door and digs through his drawers until he comes up with a simple navy-blue t-shirt.

you don't even need to try it on to know it's going to be huge on you.

he hands it over to you, to which you thank him gratefully. he turns around, but you don't miss the way his cheeks tint pink as he stares at the wall. you peel off your beer-soaked cami and slip his on top, shuddering at the friction.

it smelled like him too.

you even dare to wiggle out of your skirt, tossing it into your bag. you clear your throat, a sign that he can turn around. he doesn't say anything, and you try not to look too awkward.

pinching the sides of the shirt and pulling out, you give a little twirl and say, "how do i look?"

it was intended as a joke, an attempt to cut the thick tension, but he takes you seriously.

he coughs, and stares at his hands, "you, uh, you look good."

complimenting was never his forte.

you can't help it, a small snicker escapes your mouth, and soon enough your full-heartedly laughing at him, trying to cover your noises with a palm to your mouth.

he huffs, but you can see the smile tugging at his lips.

you sit down on his bed, and your body feels warm. you can't tell if it's from the heat of his shirt, the bed, or even the alcohol. he comes to sit next to you, falling back into his rustled sheets with a sigh.

you settle down next to him, and count the cracks in the ceiling in order to ignore the burning in your core. you seriously needed to calm down.

"does miwa always throw these parties?"

you hum. "sometimes, though this was the first one here since high school. uh, after your grandpa passed she didn't do a lot in college for a good while. usually she hosted them on campus or something."

he nodded. the silence fell heavy again.

you turn your head, taking in a deep breath and try to give him a smile. "do you go to parties?" you inquire, "you're in college now...your first year, right?"

he clicks his tongue. "i've been to a few," he scratches behind his ear, "mostly ones i get forced into going to. i never found them very fun."

you get warmer. maybe it is the alcohol, but you scooch a little closer and rest your head on his bicep. you've never seen his eyes widen that much, but he looks at you, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

"me neither," you whisper, "don't tell your sister."

you don't let tobio get the chance to understand the double meaning of that, because some surge of confidence pushes through you in that moment. all logical thinking flies out the window, becuase who cares? you're an adult, he's an adult, miwa's partying. he clearly wants you.

you kiss him, a hand placed on his chest, and your hair seperating a curtain between the two of you and the outside world. he tastes of wine, almost bitter, and you love it.

he's still for a moment, but then his lips move against yours and suddenly your flipped onto your back. his hand his on your shoulder, his other on your hip as he stares at you with husky eyes.

your shirt--or well, his shirt--has been pushed up to show your exposed abdomen but more importantly, your lack of skirt. tobio takes a particular interest in your lacey white panties, thumb rubbing over their hem.

he contemplates for a moment. "are you sure you want this?"

you don't waste a single second.

"yes," you nearly plead, and pull him down by the neck for another heated kiss. you can feel him rock up against your core, painfully hard already. you whine into the kiss, wanting to feel more of him.

his hand moves from your shoulder to push up your shirt, and your back arches upon the cold air blown across your skin. your nipples harden, and goosebumps rise on your skin.

tobio's warm hands rub up and down your sides, tracing the line of your ribs. he breaks the kiss, mouthing down your jaw onto your neck and sucking a deep red mark into the flesh of your skin.

you cry out, legs wrapping around his waist, back still trying to pathetically arch into his touch.

"tobio," you pant, "i need more."

"patience," he chastises, but you can tell he speeds up. his lips move a little faster, sucking lighter marks across your neck and collarbone. you're about to sit up to take off the shirt when he stops you.

"keep it on," he pants, "you look so pretty with it. all dressed up in my clothes."

now, that does things for your ego and for the heat growing between your legs.

his lips latch around your right nipple, and his hand comes to twist and play with your left. his tongue is so warm, lapping up at your sensitive nub.

your hands come up to tug at his hair, curling in inky black locs. his eyelashes flutter when you give it a small tug, his teeth scraping against your nipple in a way that made you hiss pleasurably.

he peppers kisses along your breasts and ribs, and you can feel the slick beginning to stain your panties.

"please," you mewl, pushing up against him. he chuckles and presses a quick kiss to your lips before ducking down between your legs. his grin is devilish, and you can't help but shiver in anticipation.

he takes your panties, and pushes them to the side, revealing your pussy. "so wet," he whispers, almost amazed. he takes one finger and runs it through your folds, collecting your slick and smearing it across your thighs.

quickly, he leaves a few love bites along the smooth expanse of your thighs, making your breath catch in your throat. everytime you think he's about to finally touch you, he goes back to your knee and works his way up again.

he admires his work, and you tighten your thighs around his head as a sort of warning to hurry up. he wraps his arms around your waist and tugs you closer to the edge of the bed. your back arches, and you try to resist the urge to buck your hips.

you aren't ready for when he finally makes one long stripe through your folds. it feels like a hundred electric shocks are coursing through your body, lighting you aflame. you let out a hitched cry of pleasure, hands curling in his hair, pushing further into his face.

tobio eats you out like you're his last meal. you don't know where he learned how, but it's genuinely shocking. the same boy who you taught how to properly serve a volleyball, was now eating you out like your life depended on it.

you couldn't help the symphony of noises that escaped you. the heat of his tongue made you clench around nothing as he sucked your clit into his mouth, moaning around your flesh. you never striked him as the kind of guy to be a service top, but you were enjoying it, nonetheless.

he sucks against your skin, trying to get every taste of you he can, openly groaning at the taste of your slick. your legs twitch and shudder, and you try your hardest not to clamp around his neck. "need to feel you, tobio," you moan, pulling his head up. he looks at you, eyes heavy-lidded, his arousal clear as day.

"i don't have a condom," he stutters, and you shake your head.

"i don't care," you whine, pulling him close, so his torso is flesh against yours, "need you now."

you sound horribly pathetic and he must find it cute or he doesn't care because he's complying to your whiney demands with no issue.

he fumbles with the string of his sweatpants, pulling them and his boxers down to his knees. you feel your mouth salivate at the sight of him. he's long, not the thickest you've ever seen, but definitely the longest. you know he's going to hit all the right spots.

you reach forward, taking him into your hand and giving him a few long pumps. his tip is a cute flushed red, veins tracking up his cock. "so pretty, tobio," you slur, to which he blushes bashfully. "this is the kind of dick girls brag about, y'know..."

he presses a kiss to your cheek. "will you?"

you giggle, "not unless you give me reason to."

that ignites a flame in him. ego was one thing tobio took very seriously.

he drags his tip through your folds, lubing himself with your slick. occasionally, his head will catch on your clit and elicit a whimper from you. he aligns himself with your hole, leaning over you, and pressing more kisses to your breasts to try and ease you and get your muscles to relax.

you breathe in and out a few times until your body properly relaxes, and you're melting wax into his hands.

you take back everything you said about him not being big. tobio fills you up like he was made for you. as if your pussy was molded to fit the shape of his cock. he curves in just the right spot, and after a few testing pushes, he manages to hit your g-spot with every thrust.

it's no surprise you're cumming only minutes after he starts.

"tobio!" you cry out, gripping onto his shoulders, "'m gonna cum!"

he huffs, burying his face in your neck, "cum for me, baby, i wanna hear you. show those assholes what they're missing out on."

sparks alight along your spine, and you're arching into him, screaming his name as you cum. it might've been the biggest climax you'd ever had.

you're shivering and whimpering, letting him pound into you until his own release. he finishes soon too, having been hard for way too long. he's trying to muffle his grunts, but you know they're clear as day to anyone who's in the kitchen. you'd be surprised if the whole house didn't hear you.

eventually, he finishes in you, pumping his seed in with a few slow thrusts. he sits there for a moment, still inside you as he takes deep breaths to recollect himself. eventually he slips out, but he plugs you up with two of his fingers to keep his cum from dripping out.

tobio lays down next to you, his head resting on your shoulder, heavy pants fanning across your breasts.

"was i good?" he asks weakly.

"you were wonderful."

the next morning, you wake up to a string of texts from miwa.

oops.

[c0olblue]

I did this for a haikyuu kids zine and I’m still very happy whit it….. just a family having a nice time together <‘3

[yukachaan]

I can't believe we were robbed of getting Miwa as an actual character in the story. Like seeing an actual sibling relationship between her and Tobio like we got with Tsukishima and with Tanaka... I think it would have added so much depth to Tobio's character and also she's incredibly cool and I want more of her

[milaisreading]

Do you have a favorite minor character(s) in haikyuu???😗

🌱🩷: Are Tatsuto Sokolov and Nicollas Romero considered minor characters? Also, Miwa! I love her sm!

[afterthelambs]

Reading haikyuu fics written before chapter 387 is like a minefield. I take emotional damage whenever Kageyama is described as an only child NO HE HAS MIWA HE HAS MIWAAAAA

[the2020haikyuuphase]

miwalisa headcanons

miwa definetly had alisa on her pinterest board or her inspiration wall before she actually met her LOL

didn't meet through their brothers. i like to think alisa's usual makeup artist called in sick before a shoot one day and sent miwa as a stand-in for them

miwa showing alisa her damn inspo board and alisa wanting to change her original look to something that aligns more with miwa's vision. artist and muse fr.

they go for coffee and then slowly become friends. they both have similar interests and get along very quickly. don't realise the other has a brother in volleyball until, like, their third meet-up. then it's like... DUH! how did they not realise their brothers are from volleyball clubs??? and from nekoma and karasuno?? the biggest rivals, no less..

surmised they probably sat very close to each other in their game during spring nationals because alisa remembers seeing saeko sit close to her and akane, and miwa was sitting with saeko.

find it hilarious

alisa forcing lev to get his hair and makeup done by miwa too. he's always resistant but half-hearted about it. tobio gets embarrassed asf it's so tickling to miwa

they have the relationship where they believe they just really really REALLY like each other as normal friends. yknow... nothing gay going over here. we just have a lot of similar interests! and yknow she's definetly not gay anyways. not that i was thinking about it!! but just look at her... she's so pretty i bet she already has like three boyfriends on a consistent rotating roster. she doesn't want me. which idk why i thought that or anything because we're only good girl friends!! not girlfriends— girl friends!

anyway. gay as hell. miwa hates all the men alisa shows her on her dating app for validation. alisa defends them when miwa calls them trolls but she's secretly dissatisfied with all of them too.

miwa takes alisa on unofficial boba dates and its always the highlight of each others week. but remember! just as friends!!

the trope where someone is doing the makeup of someone else and they’re so close to kissing and the tension goes crazy. but plot twist its alisa trying to do miwa’s makeup for once

miwa’s more beautiful than all the other models alisa works with. according to her.

they get together when one of them can’t hold it in anymore (probably alisa) and bursts into confused gay tears about it that eventually lead to an intense but needed makeout sesh

they’re both shell shocked the other is gay and into them even though it was so painfully obvious to everyone around them including their damn brothers, which is how you know they were disgustingly in love

actually tobio thought they were dating the entire time and had to be sat down one day

also they think the other is out of their league even though both are the most beautiful women to walk this earth

THE black cat gf and golden retriever gf

alisa calls her milaya

alisa also will dirty talk to miwa in public in russian cuz she knows she’ll get away with it (lord help lev if he has the misfortune of being there at the time)

miwa has to be fired from doing alisa’s hair and makeup eventually because it always leads to both alisa’s hair and makeup getting absolutely ruined when they eventually aggressively make out halfway through the process

VERY popular couple. theyre so beautiful together. people love attractive couples and the last guy alisa dated looked like a cave dweller so miwa is an immensely appreciated upgrade

they are definitely the type to get married and have the most glamorous wedding ceremony ever. and an even more glamorous honeymoon

lev and tobio brother in laws era 💀

miwa’s meh about having kids but i can see alisa wanting to be a mother. she’d probs have a surrogate too, she wants the whole package deal

beautiful fucking babies it goes without saying

tobio tries to Project Volleyball his nephew/niece. i can see him having a similar relationship to them as oikawa and takeru. the child is raised by miwa so you know they're gangster asf.

they're wayyyy too aesthetic they probably own the most loveliest house you’ve ever seen in your life. like they are really living the dream with each other. sometimes they think its too good to be true. how many others wake up dreaming?

[usagirln120]

Miwa Kageyama: Hogwarts AU

Miwa Kageyama is a Pureblood witch that was born on the 13th of October 1972 and started attending Hogwarts on the 1st of September 1984, being sorted into Ravenclaw House.

While she does come from a quidditch family, she was more interested in fashion and make-up than quidditch even if she did still play.

After she graduated from Hogwarts, she started working as a make-up artist and hair stylist at Best Jeanist's Robes for all Occasions which caused her to have quite a strained relationship with her little brother who thought that she betrayed their family by not pursuing quidditch as a career but they eventually made up again at their grandfather's funeral.

When the Second Wizarding War started, she became a member of Makarov's Army and was the one in charge of keeping the Hinata family safe during the time they were forced to go on the run.

She eventually participated in the Battle of Hogwarts which she survived but with a messed up leg which gave her a limp for the rest of her life and forced her to go to St. Mungos regularly for chronic pains in her leg.

This is what caused her to meet Alisa Haiba, a fellow survivor of the Battle of Hogwarts, who often stayed at St. Mungos late to be with her little brother who was in a coma after the battle.

They eventually fell in love, got married and adopted two daughters together.

She has a Cypress wand with a Phoenix Feather core.

Her Patronus is a Black Panther.

Her favorite subjects are Charms and Transfiguration.

Her least favorite subjects are History of Magic and Herbology.

[lanternadosafogados]

Novidade Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio x Fem! Reader

Tobio e Miwa chegaram primeiro. Após abraços cheios de saudade entre as irmãs e apertos de mãos desajeitados entre os dois rapazes, Miwa e Hinata foram dar uma olhada na churrasqueira, pelo menos foi a desculpa que deram para que Tobio e a irmã pudessem conversar na sala da casa. Aquela talvez seria uma notícia e tanto para ele que sempre foi protetor com a jovem.

— Então — Kageyama começou a falar — Tudo bem?

[Nome] riu baixinho com o modo de puxar conversa do irmão. Era como se ele conversasse com alguém em um elevador, mas ela sabia que era o jeito dele querer saber como andava sua vida.

— Sim. Na verdade, tem até novidade. Quer tentar adivinhar o que é?

Kageyama não era exatamente fã desse tipo de jogo, no entanto decidiu guardar suas reclamações para si e tratou de observar a irmã com atenção.

Seu rosto parecia normal. Seus cabelos… ela havia cortado? Não, não fariam um churrasco pra isso. Usava a camiseta do MSBY de Hinata.

A peça disfarçava, mas ainda era possível ver um pouco a barriga um pouco avantajada. Calças jeans azul claro, chinelos…

— [Nome] você engordou um pouco? — ele perguntou sem muitos rodeios.

O sorriso da irmã se desfez enquanto suspirava irritada. Kageyama não teve reflexos rápidos suficientes para desviar do pedala que levou de [Nome].

— Porra, Tobio. Você acha que isso é algo que se comente? Eu estou grávida.

O garoto levou alguns instantes para absorver a notícia. Olhou para a irmã como se a qualquer momento dissesse que era algum tipo de brincadeira. Mas [Nome] parecia estar tão ansiosa por sua reação quanto ele por sua confirmação.

Um sorriso surgiu em seu rosto. Podia sentir lágrimas surgindo em seus olhos com a notícia de que seria tio. No momento seguinte estava envolvendo a irmã em um abraço, enterrando a cabeça em seu ombro.

Kageyama estava tão feliz. Ele iria ser tio. Ele iria ensinar vôlei para seu sobrinho ou sobrinha. Ele…

Foi então que tão rápido quando Tobio abraçou [Nome] ele a soltou com um semblante sério.

— O que foi? — [Nome] perguntou sem entender o estranho e repentino comportamento do irmão.

— Se você está… — Kageyama deixou a frase no ar. Como se a completasse em pensamento — Isso quer dizer…

Hinata e Miwa ajeitavam a mesa quando ouviram o nome de Shoyo ser chamado. O tom não era muito amigável. 

Olharam para trás, apenas para ver Kageyama vindo de dentro da casa para a área com cara de poucos amigos enquanto chamava Hinata de idiota.

Também postado no Spirit e no Wattpad

[thedumbasswitaphone]

kageyama siblings headcannon

Miwa can't drive to save her life like the first time she tried to drive tobio vomitted but kazuyo wasn't there so he let it slip saying miwa would learn( spoiler she never did)

Miwa and tobio do this thing where the make time and hangout every 2nd and 4th Saturday

Tobio can name half the makeup and hair brands he also can do hair and make up really good

(this one is from a fanfic I read so credits to the creator ) when miwa was 14 and tobio was 6 she tried to die both of there hair she tried bright pink while tobio got red . Miwa's hair was neon pinkish orange when she was done while tobio's was red here and their when she saw the result she screamed her lungs out she had to get it professionally dyed black for three weeks before the dye faded

[solreix]

muntik nang mapamura si miwa nang biglang bumuhos ang ulang kanina ay ambon lang. napahinto na lang siya sa gitna ng daan, walang payong dahil wallet lang ang laman ng bulsa niya.

balak niya lang naman kasing bumili ng meryenda, at ngayon na nga lang siuang sinipag hindi magpa-deliver, minalas pa.

babalik pa ba 'ko?

kung tutuusin, mas malapit na sa kaniya ng tindahan kaysa sa bahay nila. wala siyang masisilungan dahil puro punong maninipis ang nilalakaran niyang sidewalk. walang masyadong tao, at puro mga sasakyang dumaraan ang nakikita niya.

napahilamos siya ng mukha. bahala na nga!

akma siyang tatakbo na papunta sa tindahan nang may humila ng kamay niya. "ano—" bago pa siya makaalma ay inikot siya ng taong humila sa kaniya, as if she was a princess.

"ali," she reacted when she recognized the chuckles.

"hello, pretty!" alisa greeted. katulad niya, basang-basa na rin ng ito ng ulan. her pastel green sleeveless dress was hugging her body, panigurado ay nilalamig ito. hindi katulad niya na kahit basa ay naka-jacket na makapal at jogging pants.

"what are you doing here? tara na, lalamigin ka niyan."

muli, tumawa lamang si alisa. "shhh!" ang isang kamay nito ay kinuha muli ang kamay ni miwa, at ang isa ay inilagay sa beywang niya. she was looking intently at miwa's eyes, making her heart flutter.

"you're so—" hindi na natuloy ang sasabihin ni miwa at napailing na lang. she went along with alisa's dance without any music as they both got drenched.

"since when was the last time we danced?" alisa mumbled, still smiling.

"last month. in your room kasi inistorbo ko pagreview mo," sagot niya na nakapagpasimangot kay alisa. "sagutin mo ako, how did you even know i'm here?"

alisa shrugged, and once again, twirled miwa like a princess. "i took grab lang kasi kanina, punta sana ako sa inyo, eh i saw my crush so nagpababa ako agad."

miwa rolled her eyes. "may crush ka?"

her girlfriend nodded, giddy.

"marunong bang magshabu nang patago 'yan?"

"oh definitely! blacklisted siya sa barangay." she giggled.

napapikit si miwa. "you're so cute, alam mo ba 'yon?" she couldn't help it so she pinched her cheeks. "come on, baby," she urged, and this time, siya na ang nag-ikot dito.

and for more minutes, umiikot, sumasayaw, at nagtatawanan lang sila sa daan. they knew they were already getting looks from passerbys pero wala silang paki.

miwa put her hands on alisa's waist, as alisa put hers on her neck. nakatitig sa mata ng isa't isa habang sumasayaw sa musika ng hangin, and they both couldn't ask for more.

no one's in their world, sila lang.

"lagnatin sana kayo." and there's her brother to ruin it of course.

[lys-9-10]

Connection Ch. 8

Read on AO3

Preview

“Is he going to be okay?” a tearful voice asks from somewhere in Tobio’s distance consciousness. 

He knows that voice. It’s bright. Radiant. It’s the sun... 

“I’m not sure, Hinata-kun,” another voice answers shakily. “Pneumonia can get pretty bad.” That one's Miwa's voice . Tobio is angry with Miwa... Though he can't remember why.

There’s the sound of crying. Snuffling. And then shifting. Fabric rustling against fabric. Tobio thinks maybe someone just got drawn into a hug. Miwa probably did that. Miwa likes to hug. Tobio used to let Miwa hug him…

“I’m so ... so sorry,” sobs the voice that belongs to the sun. “It’s my fault ... That stupid game...” He hiccups loudly. There’s silence for a few beats, except for crying. Then, Miwa’s voice again. 

“Hinata …Obviously I’m really upset my brother has pneumonia. But, to be honest ... I’m also just really glad he has a friend. I didn’t know that he did.” 

Tobio has a friend?

That’s not right. Tobio doesn’t have any friends. The only person Tobio has is Kazuyo...

Kazuyo … He’s coming. He’s coming to watch… -------------------------------------

“Tobio?” Takeda-sensei’s face peeks out again from the wing entrance. “Has your grandfather arrived yet?”

Tobio bites his bottom lip. It’s already chewed raw. “No, sensei. But if we just wait a little longer...”

Takeda’s face is sad as he heaves a sigh. “Tobio, I’m very sorry. But we can’t wait any longer. It’s nearly time for the last performance. That will be you.” 

Tobio feels his face scrunch up. His bottom lip quivers. 

Takeda-sensei places a hand on his shoulder. “If you don’t want to dance, Tobio, I can talk to your partner. Maybe one of the other leads will go on with her.”  

“N-no. I want to dance.”Of course Tobio wants to dance. Tobio always wants to dance ... Dancing makes him happy. It makes all of them happy. Tobio, Kazuyo, Miwa...

But Tobio doesn’t feel happy right now. 

And as he goes out onto the stage, everything is wrong. His steps are wrong. His rhythm. His leads. 

Tobio’s partner glares up at him as he fumbles a move for the third time, causing her to bump into him. 

Tobio swallows the tears and keeps dancing. He keeps dancing through the hole in his chest.

And it’s terrible.

Everyone knows it’s terrible. 

When the medals are given out at the end, Tobio doesn’t receive one. He looks down at his own chest. It’s empty. Empty on top, where the medal should be. Empty on the inside, where that hole is ... Empty. Like Kazuyo’s seat. 

Kazuyo didn’t watch ... And why would he watch? Tobio was terrible. Nobody would want to watch Tobio when he was so terrible...  ---------------

Lindy Bout. It’s this Saturday.

What day is it? Fuck, how long has he been here? 

Heart racing, Tobio tries to push himself out of bed. He needs to get up. He needs to practise... 

He falls back onto the pillows with a pained grunt. His head is splitting. He’s hot. Too hot. And thirsty. Gods, he’s so thirsty ... His eyelids flutter heavily and he feels his consciousness slipping away again. 

No. No he can’t. 

Lindy Bout ... He has to get up. He has to practise ... He has to ... watch ... make him watch...  ------------

Tobio sits backstage, head buried in his knees. 

Kazuyo never came. And it was Tobio’s fault. He wasn’t worth watching. He didn’t win. 

Tobio feels a presence beside him—someone crouching down to his level. He jerks his head up, thinking it might be Kazuyo. 

But it isn’t Kazuyo. It’s only Takeda-sensei.

“Tobio-chan,” Takeda-sensei says, holding a cellphone out to him. “Your sister’s on the phone. She wants to talk to you.”  Takeda’s brow is furrowed. He looks concerned. Frightened, even.

“What is it?” Tobio presses, but Takeda just shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” he admits. “Your sister will tell you.” 

Tobio stares at Takeda for a moment longer. Then, slowly, warily, he takes the phone and brings it to his ear.

Miwa’s sobs break through the line, hitting him like a shock of cold water. 

“Miwa??” Tobio gasps. “Miwa, what is it?” 

“Tobio.” Her voice is broken, racked with sobs. “It’s Kazuyo. He … I think he had a heart attack.”

“What?!” Tobio leaps to his feet. “Where is he?? Sensei”—his hand whips out and clutches Takeda’s arm. “Sensei, I need you to drive me to the hospital!” 

“No, Tobio,” Miwa’s voice cuts in, miserably. “He’s gone.” 

Tobio’s eyes fly open, a gasp ripping from his throat. 

Damn ... damn! He can’t sit up. It’s like he’s dead weight on this bed. Fucking damn it ... Lindy Bout is this Saturday. Fuck. Fuck, he has to move! 

Tobio frantically casts his gaze around the room. 

Miwa is in the corner. She’s slumped on Tobio’s desk, her eyes closed, her head lolling at what looks like an uncomfortable angle. Tobio tries to call out to her. To tell her to help him up. All that comes out is a groan. 

Tobio closes his eyes, silently cursing. 

Miwa … Miwa has to help him get up. Help him get to Lindy Bout… 

Tobio’s chest tightens. Remembrance settles in on him. And with it, cold, ugly bitterness. 

Miwa won’t help him. 

Even if he could call out to her, she wouldn’t help him. Miwa doesn’t care about Lindy Bout. She doesn’t care about dancing.  The shock of Tobio’s nightmare has sliced through the haze in his brain. He’s remarkably lucid now. And he remembers it all. 

Miwa quit. After Kazuyo died, she never danced again. 

Tobio forces his eyes open and glares at Miwa’s sleeping form. Miwa never cared ... She didn’t care that Lindy Hop was what Kazuyo loved. She didn’t care that he taught them both from the time they were toddlers. Passed on what he loved to them, like a precious gift. An heirloom to be protected. 

She just turned around and threw the heirloom in the trash. She didn’t care about Kazuyo ... She cried on the phone that day and she cried at the funeral. But after that, it was all smiles. Loathsome, plastic smiles as she asked Tobio how his day was. As she told him what was for dinner. As she suggested making fucking hottokeki like nothing had changed. Like they could just carry on normally. Like they hadn’t lost the only person that ever cared about them… ----------------

The sun is in his room again. Tobio can see his flaming orange hair through heavy, half-lidded eyes. 

He murmurs something to Miwa, asking about Tobio’s condition.

The sun is here for him … Tobio should feel grateful. He should welcome the sun’s closeness. His warmth. 

But Tobio just feels so, incredibly dark. 

The darkness is clawing at him from inside his ribcage. It’s ugly. Thick. 

And it’s a million miles away from the sun.

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