What's the matter?

Unlike the exaggerated disdain showered on him by Oikawa or the intimidated awe he's often subject to by his peers and kohai, Iwaizumi is surprised to meet Wakatoshi but unruffled in making conversation and maybe even pleased to see a familiar face.

It's not the disquieting confidence radiated by the concrete crows either, it's something calmer, more comfortable. Wakatoshi isn't prepared to admit it yet, but he's a little ashamed of how he categorised the other man.

The only 'almost' here is how Wakatoshi 'almost' had an idea of what Iwaizumi was, and it turns out it was mostly wrong.

He learns that Iwaizumi is finishing up his 2nd year in the department of sports sciences at Waseda, he learns that Iwaizumi still occasionally plays a few casual matches with other faculty students and works part time at a physical therapy clinic ('mostly clerical' he admits).

He used his earnings to come all the way to the US to meet Wakatoshi's father and tour the campus to figure out his next academic step.

Iwaizumi works hard and sets difficult but realistic goals, he's mature but still knows how to have fun. Iwaizumi is kind, helpful and attentive to everyone, even total strangers and he does it as naturally as breathing.

"I don't really get to watch games live lately." Iwaizumi confesses a little embarrassedly on the second day they happen to meet for coffee on campus.

Between work and everything else, he catches the occasional online replay on the train while commuting or on the weekend while he relaxes.

Plus he can't afford the subscription while saving for all his future plans. Even outside the city, the greater Tokyo area is still quite costly to live in.

Wakatoshi takes the information and files it away. He likes talking to Iwaizumi, it feels like he has a friend again. Not a team-mate, but an actual friend. After coffee, they bid each other goodbye with separate itineraries to complete.

Iwaizumi flies home, Wakatoshi stays on a little longer to enjoy the off season with his father. They both become mostly wrapped up in their own lives again for a time.

A couple of months later, back in Japan, a still-sweaty but victorious Wakatoshi looks up from signing a kid's shirt to meet a familiar pair of brown eyes.

Iwaizumi, hands tucked into the pockets of his dark red Sōdai hoodie, grins at him in that way that makes the corners of his eyes crinkle. "I figured they were from you." he laughs, whipping out the ticket stub from his pocket. "Thanks. It was a good match."

They talk a little, and after some finagling with their terminally busy schedules, they talk some more. Wakatoshi sends more tickets, they meet frequently, sometimes not even after a game.

In fact, they're meeting more outside of the arena these days. Sometimes Iwaizumi has errands to run or things to do, Wakatoshi doesn't mind, he's content to tag along or just hang out while he works. It's relaxing, peaceful even.

Wakatoshi opens a new mental folder. Saitama really isn't that far: Iwaizumi Hajime is 'just' a mere hour away by train. Iwaizumi isn't a mindreader like Tendou, but he always knows 'just' what to say when he's having a rough day.

In fact, he's becoming increasingly convinced that Hajime 'just' gets him, and he thinks he's slowly but surely learning what makes Hajime tick.

One evening, while pressed against each other in the train, a thought occurs to Wakatoshi: Hajime was 'just' tall enough that if he looked up right this moment, Wakatoshi could just dip his head and...

Apparently, I have two years left here before I'm supposed to leave the country to further my career overseas.

A few weeks ago, for the first time ever, my dad asked me about my plans for the immediate future. It's not a topic I'm comfortable talking about--not because I don't have any plans, but because I don't like that when people get an idea of what I'm planning, they're automatically going to assume that everything will actually go according to plan.

So I laid it all out for him. I told him, "four years, more or less." The clock started ticking two years ago.

I'm fucking proud of that. A four year timeline is no joke. I thought he'd be, too.

Instead, my dad looked away from me, tapping mindlessly on the table. It was all I heard before he finally responded.

"Four years, max."

When I first graduated, I had a three year goal:

year 1: graduate, get a job

year 2: get a license

year 3: practice my profession, then work/study overseas

If you asked me about it two years ago, I'd say that's an absolutely attainable timeline, and I can almost guarantee it happening exactly the way I wanted to. If you ask me now, with all the shit happening for the past year, you think my answer will still be the same?

The thing I like about myself is that I set realistic goals ever since I was little. I can achieve whatever I want so long as I put my mind into it, as long as it's within the realm of possibilities for me. I do it by considering all the factors I know of that will have an effect on me achieving them, and, as an overthinker, that's not so hard to do.

So my three year plan became a four year plan.

year 1: get a job

year 2: not die

year 3: get a license

year 4: work/study overseas

It's simple. It's straight forward. A lot of allowances for me not to stress out over it (because I have decided that the only way I can stop me from off-ing myself is by giving myself more time and leeway to, you know, live.)

For someone of my (very, very low) caliber, I think this is a fucking feat if I ever achieved it. I will expect to have a week long fiesta at home, a bulletin outside the village, a large donation to charity in my name, the whole nine fucking yards.

It's a challenge I gave myself. No one else. So if I achieve it, then good for me. If not, well then, I'm not dying anytime soon, anyway.

The point of setting goals for one's self is so that NO ONE ELSE HAD TO. When someone tells me what to do, it takes away the intention behind everything I'm working for.

Because the thing is, the only reason why I'm rushing to get all that done is so my parents can be proud of something I did again. I'm rushing my way through life because I want to make them happy. I want to send home money they would hesitate to even touch. I'd build them a house. I'd make it so they will never have to want for anything ever again. Even if it means never seeing my family and friends. Even if it means I have to spend years of my life in a foreign land with no one else to rely on but myself. I'd sacrifice everything I want for myself if it meant I can make them happy.

My achievements, my goals in life are the ultimate expression of my love for my mom and dad.

And they responded with, "Well? Get on with it, then!"

In short, this is me, doing my absolute, fucking best, not for me but for them, always for them and only for them, and they're telling me it's still not enough.