#hqdatekouweek

“Hel  eee!”  he gargled.

“Talk properly, Kenji! I don’t have time for anymore nonsense.”

“Uuunggg – hel ee!”

“Help you?  Why?” His mum’s face lost its exasperated look as she faced him, her brows knotting in concern.

“Can’t ove ngyy outh.”

“What?”

“I think,” Kenji’s younger brother, Saburou, said, smiling sweetly as he tucked into his rice, “that Niichan’s saying he can’t move his mouth.”

Kenji nodded furiously, and then winced. There was a pain in his gums, made worse when he moved.  He flashed his mum an imploring look, gratified when she touched his cheek with her fingertips.

“Poor baby, those wisdom teeth are causing problems for you, aren’t they? We really must get you to the dentist.”

Oh, noooooo!

 It had been an ongoing problem since he’d turned sixteen and they’d first started to come through, and while the dentist had initially been reluctant to extract them while he was still growing, (‘Your mouth is quite big enough – Futakuchi-kun!’) one had started to grow at an angle, impacting itself against a molar. The recurrent bouts of infection, which caused his gum to swell, had led to time off school and – more importantly for Kenji – time away from practise.

So it was imperative he had the troublesome tooth removed. If it flared up pre-match, or during a match, then Datekou’s chances would be hampered. He didn’t boast (okay – he did and quite a lot, but then he had a lot to boast about) but Kenji was vital to the team.

Although that didn’t stop him being shit scared of the dentist.

And he’d already wriggled out of two dates for the operation, forcing his mum to postpone.

 It was the day after Golden Week had ended. He’d returned from a high old time at Training Camp, really pleased with not only his progress, but the team’s. He’d joked around with Onagawa, teased Koganegawa, battled with Kamasaki and been genuinely delighted when Sakunami had stopped looking so anxious about his place and had smiled as if he belonged.

And he’d been so looking forward to going back to the Datekou gym for their first practise after camp, because camp had been incredible this year. So much fun. So much lifting of spirits and unexpected partnerships.

It was a shame he and Obara hadn’t clicked, but really if the guy was going to get so tetchy all the time, and then to outright accuse Kenji of trying to undermine him. And NOT apologise, well, why should Kenji go out of his way to patch something up that had never knitted together anyway?

Except Moniwa-san wanted us to get on, so maybe I should tone it down. Maybe I should make the first move. Even if it wasn’t my fault.

“I should do that now!” he said, and grinned.  “Yes, I need to make amends with Obara immediately. It’s for the good of the team, and Moniwa-san will be so happy. And the Iron Wall won’t be in danger of crumbling because Obara-kun and I can work together. And that is so much more important than –“

“Kenji, are you ready?”

Oh shit!

“Uh... in a minute, Mum. I’m just ... uh ... putting on my ... shoes.”

“They’re down here,” she called up the stairs, her voice taking on a sterner tone. “Kenji, you’re not going to be silly now, are you?”

“Other shoes!” he called back. His eyes flicked from side-to-side, trying to work out his next move.

The window.  The drain pipe. Yes, that would do.

“Kenji!”

“Hold on...” His hand was on the window latch, easing it open slowly, hoping it wouldn’t squeak and give the game away.

“DON’T YA EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!”

“KAMASAKI!  Wh-what the hell are you doing here?” he yelled.

His bedroom door flew open and the scowling figure of his nemesis glowered into the room.

“Get away from that window, kouhai!” Kamasaki ordered.

“Uh ...” He blinked. Was he dreaming?  Or rather, was he in the middle of some nightmare, plagued by not only the dentist, but Mr Brawn- instead- of -Brains as well?

He could still make it. Kamasaki might be stronger, but Kenji was faster (his muscle slowed him down). He could unlatch the window, slither down the drainpipe and be halfway over the garden fence before Kamasaki had registered.

“I wouldn’t,” said another, far more measured, voice.

“Sasaya-san, uh ... how ... um ... surprising to see you here.”  He could still make it. Kamasaki wouldn’t move out of the way quick enough for Sasaya to get through. He could –

“If you look out of the window, you’ll see some of your teammates,” Sasaya continued.

In horror, Kenji scanned the garden. Through the gaps in the fence, he could see glimmers of teal and white, and peering over the top, he saw a thatch of yellowy hair with a tuft of black sticking up at all angles.

“You don’t want to get caught running away by your kouhai, Futakuchi-kun,” Sasaya murmured.

“Running away? What makes you think that?” he bluffed, flicking his hair off his face and flashing them a smirk.

“The fact yer foot was on the windersill might have somethin’ to do with it,” Kamasaki muttered.

He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t even laughing or mocking Kenji for his foiled escape attempt. Instead, Kamasaki looked half way to angry but also concerned. And it was that, more than anything, which stopped Kenji in his tracks.

“Why is everyone here?” he asked.

“Because we need you healthy for the team,” Sasaya replied quietly. “You really can’t put this off any longer, Futa-kun.”

“And I’d kinda like to see ya swollen up and unable to talk,” Kamasaki butted in.

“Uh ...” Kenji shook his head. “There is no bloody way that you’re coming with me, old man!”

“How ya gonna stop me? I got the Iron Wall on my side!”

He stared out of the window again, now spotting Takanobu and Onagawa, the latter grinning up at him.

Dammit!

 “How did you know where I was going?” he asked later.

They were walking down the road to the dentist, most of the team gathered around him, only Moniwa-san was missing.

“That guy figured it out,” Kamasaki muttered, and pointed to Obara, standing on the edge of the group, eyes on the road ahead. “He said you’d got a call at Camp, and figured it was somethin’ important ‘cause the Coach let ya take it.”

“Oiwake-san had already told Moniwa and Kamasaki you wouldn’t be available for practise for three days and Obara remembered you were supposed to have had your tooth removed last month but had skipped it,” Sasaya chipped in. He lowered his voice. “I don’t blame you. I hate the dentist, too.”

“Obara remembered that, huh?” He cast his eyes sideways, watching his fellow Wing Spiker. “That’s ... um ...”

“He meant it to be a good thing, whatever you think of the dentist, or of Obara, he wants the team to succeed as much as you do,” Sasaya whispered, then nudged his arm. “Go and speak to him.”

But as he hesitated, Takanobu, at the head of the group, came to a halt.  He turned to face them all, not exactly frowning, but still terrifying in his silence.

“Uh, this isn’t the dentist,” Kenji called. “Why have we stopped?”

It was Obara who answered, turning his head and facing Kenji for the first time, and a small smile fleetingly swept across his face. “We’re missing someone, Futakuchi-kun.”

 Kaname wasn’t sure what to expect when Kamasaki had texted him to be at home at ten. As a rule, he didn’t hang around with his vice-captain outside of school and practise. They had very little in common, although they rubbed along well enough with each other, and there were never any of the issues he’d thought might occur when he’d been made Captain ahead of him.

So the text had come as a bit of a surprise, especially as when he’d pressed further, wanting to know what the problem was, how it affected the team, and did he need to provide anything, Kamasaki had gone silent, not replying to texts or the frantic call Moniwa had made.

He was looking out of his front room window when they arrived. He spotted Aone first, then – to his surprise – Obara-kun, who was gesturing to Futakuchi before facing the house and half smiling.

“What’s going on?” Kaname shouted when he opened the window.

“We’re marchin’ our kouhai to the dentist, Moniwa-kun,” yelled Kamasaki, his grin broad. He had his arm across Futakuchi’s shoulders, drawing him in close as if to stop him running away, even though their kouhai didn’t look as if he were about to escape, facing his captain with a bigger grin.

“It’s an intervention!” Sasaya told him.

“For Futakuchi?” Kaname queried, still from the window. “He looks happy enough.”

“No, for you,” Sasaya replied. “Come on.”

He pulled on his shoes, grabbed a jacket, and after writing a note for his mum, ran out of the door, tripping on his lace. Aone caught him, grabbing his arm before he crashed to the pavement, setting him up straight with the minimum of fuss before stepping away and giving a respectful bow.

“Does it need all of us?” he asked, now worried because everyone was there, everyone except the coach, and ... were they really going to the dentist, or was this an elaborate joke?

“Yes, it does,” Sasaya said, and pointed to Obara. “You explain. It was your plan.”

Obara took a breath, rolling back his shoulders and flushing slightly now that he was the centre of attention.

“Senpai,” he began, then inclined his head to Futakuchi, “we are here as a team exercise. Futakuchi-kun needs to go to the dentist and is a little scared-”

“HEY!  I’m not scared, all right!”

“You were climbin’ out the window,” Kaname heard Kamasaki mutter, as his hand gripped Futakuchi’s sleeve.

“Wary,” Obara backtracked hastily “Futakuchi-kun is understandably wary of going to the dentist because it will mean he misses practise.”  He cleared his throat. “But ... er ... the rest of us know how essential he is to the team, and we want him well, even if when he has toothache he stops talking.”

“Oi!  I am here, you know!”

“Shaddup!” Kamasaki slapped him lightly on the back of the head, before ruffling his hair. “Let yer classmate finish.”

“Um ...” Obara shuffled his feet. “Th-that was it, really.”

“No ...” Sasaya stepped towards him, cupping his hand to his mouth so he could whisper.

“OH!  Yes, sorry.” Obara grinned sheepishly, and Kaname was struck with how different he looked when he was truly engaged with the team, not stuck on the outside. “Moniwa-san. I think you’re worried about the team. In particular, you’re worried about its future, but as you can see, we pull together, even if it has nothing to do with volleyball.” He hesitated, then stepped closer to Futakuchi, and held out his hand. “I’m sorry I lost my temper with you.”

For a second, Futakuchi stared at him blankly and Kaname wondered if he was going to snub him, but then he broke into a beam of a smile, and clasped his hand. “Nah, it’s cool. Just so you know, if I’d wanted to take the piss out of you, I’d have been far more creative.”

“You’d have dyed my hair teal, wouldn’t you?”

“OOOH, not a bad idea, Yutake-chan, not bad at all...Maybe over summer we can put our heads together.”

“Don’t give him ideas!” Kaname cried.

“Too late,” Sasaya muttered, “he’s already eyeing up Kogane-kun. Let’s just be thankful we won’t be around.”

There was a silence between the third years, and then Kamasaki coughed.

“Hey, Futakuchi-kun, this was a random act o’ kindness from me, ya got that, so you need to be a little more respectful to yer senpais, and t’e me in particular! You, Moniwa-san, don’t need t’ worry,” he continued, “’cause we reckon ya do that every day, worryin’ about us.”

Touched by them all, Kaname tried to block away the sudden tears forming in his eyes, but it was no use. He bent to the ground to do up his shoelace, and then something struck him.

“What is this random act of kindness thing?” he asked, hoping his voice didn’t sound as throaty to their ears as his. “You were talking about it at Camp, Sasaya.”

Sasaya shrugged. “Let’s walk and talk,” he said, waiting by Kaname’s side.

As Kaname tightened his lace and got to his feet, the team started to walk, Aone leading the way, his eyes grimly on path ahead.

Is he okay?  Kaname wondered, but then he spent a lot of time wondering about his team, especially the second years, and yet here they all were, and the two he most worried about were now laughing together, working as a team.

“All I know is one of the kouhais sent me a shirt,” Sasaya began.

“And me a trainin’ schedule,” Kamasaki butted in. He flapped his hands at them all. “We don’t know more than that, maybe this lot can explain.”

“Surely the point is that it’s random?” Onagawa said, faltering a little as he glanced at Kamasaki. “Do we really need to know?”

“Is that yer confession, Onoagawa-kun?” Kamasaki demanded, and started laughing when the he flushed an ugly shade of puce. “It’s cool, ya know. And ya gave Sasaya-san the shirt, did ya? ‘Cause he weren’t too happy at first, but now he’s ownin’ those abs in it, ain’t ya?”

“No, that was Saku... uh...” Even more flustered, Onagawa stopped walking, and flashed the Libero a despairing look. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It was me, Sasaya-senpai,” Sakunami muttered and gulped. “I didn’t mean to be impertinent.”

“I sort of had the idea,” Onagawa admitted, stepping in front of Saknami. “So ... uh ... don’t take it out on him.”

“I’m not. It was fine. I sure as hell don’t look fifty in that thing. Even Kamasaki thinks I’m cool.”

“Would go so far as to say that,” Kamasaki catcalled. Then he grinned again. “Okay, so you two musta had angels sendin’ you things, too, right?”

“A Pot noodle and bonsai tree,” interrupted Futakuchi before the pair of them could speak. “We were there, weren’t we, Taka-kun?”

Aone didn’t grunt a reply, or even turn their way, but there was a faint nod, an incline of his head, which gnawed at Kaname again. Not that anyone else noticed. The rest of the team’s attention was directed inwards, laughing as they tried to work out who had done what.

“Kenji, did you send the bonsai tree? Only you were desperate for sour gummies.”

“No, not me.”

“Aone-san?” suggested Sakunami, but if Aone heard, he gave no indication of it. “He ... um ... knew what the bonsai tree meant.”

“‘Cause he’s smart,” Futakuchi said. He was frowning now, catching Kaname’s eye then glancing at Aone. “But he didn’t leave the dorm that early so couldn’t have bought them for you.”

“That’s true,” Obara put in. “The first person up was ...” He stopped walking and swirled around until he grabbed Konegawa’s arm. “You got up early, didn’t you? You said it was for a jog, but I heard money jangling in your pocket.”

“Uhm ... I might have done,” said a very flustered Koganegawa. He was shuffling his feet and trying to make himself smaller, but hiding his embarrassment behind Sakunami was never going to work, not with Onagawa there.

He burst into laughter. “I knew I overheard someone when we were talking, Saku-chan. That pot-noodle was excellent, Kogane-kun. But ... uh ... why did you do two acts of kindness? Was it because you heard us both talking?”

“N-n-no. Not exactly,” Koganegawa stuttered. He swallowed, bit his lip then twisted his fingers together. “Um ... I ... um ... don’t want to get anyone in trouble, so ... um ... I don’t want to say.”

“Trouble?”

“Did someone give ya somethin’ illegal, Kogane-kun?” asked Kamasaki, intrigued, and very slightly alarmed. “Uh, seriously, what’ja get?”

“Oh ... um ... no, not illegal, but Coach-san said we weren’t allowed electronics, and someone left me an iPod.” He stared meaningfully at Sakunami, then looked away. “It had a song on it and a note telling me to find my rhythm.”

“And that explains why you had to pay forward two acts how?” Sasaya asked, shaking his head and smiling. “Kogane-kun, it was one act, so why did you buy gifts for two people?”

“Pay it forward, the note said. Um ...” His mouth knotted through forty convulsions before he could speak again, and even then, he sounded strangled. “Sakunami-kun knew I needed to find my rhythm, he suggested it, and then he went away while we were practising and the iPod appeared. And so I had to pay it forward, but I also wanted to buy him something because he’s my friend and –”  he gulped for breath  “and he’s been so kind and supports me and was practising when everyone else had gone so I needed to thank him as well and-”

“WE GET IT!” Kamasaki yelled, but he was laughing. “I don’t think ya guardian angel was Sakunami, though.” He grinned evilly. “Was he, Takehito?”

“Huh?”

“You had an iPod. I saw it tucked under yer hoodie.”

He held up his hands. “I wasn’t the only one! Onagawa? Bet you had one.”

“Nope.” He shook his head. “Honest, I didn’t. Coach-san caught me last year and confiscated it, don’t you remember? I wasn’t going to risk that again.”

“I didn’t have an iPod,” Sakunami said, smiling kindly at Koganegawa. “I didn’t even bring a phone because I wasn’t sure we were allowed to, and I didn’t want to get thrown out of Training Camp when I’ve only just made the team.”

“Then ... who?”

Aone halted. “Dentist,” he said, and reaching across he pushed Futakuchi towards the door.

“Yeah, yeah, I got a few minutes yet,” Futakuchi muttered, and shook himself free. “Hmm, so it seems everyone got a random act of kindness, yeah. Koganegawa got his rhythm, Sakunami got a bonsai tree, Onagawa a pot noodle. Sasaya-san got some cool kind of top, Mr Muscle a training programme and ... uh ... well, Obara, you kind of lucked out, but at least your senpais noticed you ...” He grinned and stepped a little behind Aone. Then he faltered, and reaching up placed his hand on Aone’s shoulder. “What about you, Takanobu?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Huh?” Futakuchi glared at them all. “Look, if Takanobu hasn’t got anything, then this week isn’t over. It might not be random, but you all need to think of something because he’s the better part of –”

Aone’s hand pushed Futakuchi in the face, but gently, just his attempt to shut him up. “The bus,” he muttered, his voice gravelly. “The girl on the bus.”

“What?”

Kaname watched his team, watched the looks of confusion and consternation as they tried to process Aone’s words.

“Uh ... what girl?” Onagawa asked, adding with a grin, “Was she cute?”

“A child,” Aone said, deadpan. “One of you asked her to speak to me. Not many people do on buses.” He pressed his lips together. “Thank you.”  But he looked gloomier than ever.

“Um ... It wasn’t me,” Futakuchi said when Aone locked looks with him. “Hey, Taka-chan. I wouldn’t do that. It would be kind of ... pervy, don’t you think, me getting a kid to sit next to you on a bus.”

Aone blinked. “Her mother was there.”

“Well, even worse. She wouldn’t let her kid sit next to you on our say-so, would she?”

“She knew about volleyball,” he said stubbornly.

Moniwa frowned at the team, but everyone looked puzzled, so he stepped towards Aone, and touched his arm. “Maybe there’s a player in her family. A big brother or something. Let’s see, what did she look like?”

Aone creased his forehead, thinking carefully. “She had a pink rainhat. I couldn’t see her hair. Blue eyes and a back pack...” He trailed off, and as he recalled the memory, a small smile lit his lips. “There was a name on the backpack. I will think.”

“Well, that could take a while. I’d better go in!” Futakuchi said, smirking even as he heaved a sigh. He turned to the door, then looked back over his shoulder. “Thanks, guys. Thanks for getting me here, and keeping my mind off this.”

“No problem,” they all said, then, with a small signal from Kamasaki they chorused. “Go, Go, Let’s Go, Let’s Go, Futakuchi - oh!”

He laughed, raising his face to the sky and punched the air. “It’s a good job you’re the players and not the cheer squad,” he shouted, holding his hands over his ears. “Kogane-kun?”

“Yes, Futakuchi-san!”

“Why not give them a verse of Uptown Funk? Keep them occupied,” he said and laughed louder.

“It was YOU!”

“Uh-huh, I heard Sakunami-kun on the sidelines and it sounded like good advice. And you took it and paid it forward. So, well done, kouhai. Well done.”

As Futakuchi placed his hand on the handle, Aone ceased his deep thinking, saying slowly. “The girl.”

“What about her?” Futakuchi asked

“Her name was Natsu. Natsu Hin- something. She wanted to be a Middle Blocker.”

“Pretty name, Aone-kun,” Kaname replied, “We’ll remember it and keep a look out in case she ever plays.”

Aone nodded, silent again, but no longer morose and it was clear when he walked back that his step was lighter, and he held his head just a little higher in the air.

“Still worried about our second-years, Moniwa-kun,” Sasaya murmured.

He smiled, taking in everyone around him and how they’d all come together to help one of their own, however irritating they might find him.

      Obara groans. "No…! I didn't mean do it for me!" He sighs, exasperated, but he nevertheless tucks the work under his textbook. When Onagawa watches him do this, he turns fidgety and his face floods with color. "I'll just—just compare my work after," he fumbles.       Onagawa could care less. He's fine with Obara copying his work—he's only good at math anyway, so he thinks it an equal exchange for Obara coming over to his house and helping him with their other subjects.       After solving the problem and having Onagawa check his work, Obara breathes a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness… I don't know how you do it, Onagawa. Numbers just don't make sense to me—and then adding letters to numbers?" He laughed at himself. "No way. It's a recipe for disaster."       Onagawa shrugs. Numbers just make sense to him. Like the number of points needed to win a set. Or the number of feet between home and school. Or the number of calories in the Cup Noodles he loves so much…a number which has been smaller recently because his mother has started buying the low-cal kind. (He's planning on fixing that soon enough.)       Obara hums quietly to himself under his breath as he sorts through their other subjects, trying to figure out what to switch to next.       But Onagawa, again, could care less. They've got five other subjects to do, but they still have two weeks of vacation left, so he's not worried. Instead, he thinks of the number of times he's pushed the usually-reserved Obara's buttons so far today (just once, when he first came over and Onagawa said he wanted to play and not study). He thinks of the number of inches from him to Obara at this table (twenty, unless he reaches for Obara's hand). He thinks of the number of times he's seen Obara's cheeks darken with healthy color (ha, not nearly enough times).       Obara stops humming and clears his throat. "Onagawa…you're doing it again."       "Ha?" the shaggy-haired boy mumbles. He yawns and realizes that, in his recollecting, he'd begun to add to those numbers just now, as he retracts his fingers from Obara's and notes not only the berry color of Obara's ears but the left eyebrow of Obara's twitching in annoyance. Whoops. "Sorry, Obacchi," he tosses out lazily with another yawn, and he leans back until he's lying on the floor.       Obara peers at him over the side of the table. "You know, maybe we should've just called the others. We would have this done a lot sooner—none of us are good at the same things, so…" He trails off when Onagawa gives him a look. "All right, all right, you win."       "It's too hot for this right now," Onagawa complains. He motions to his friend. "Come lie down with me. We'll finish math another time."       The other teen rolls his eyes but indulges him. He realized last year when they'd met in club that the best way to handle Onagawa is to join him, not beat him, and Onagawa's milked it ever since.       With Obara stretched out beside him, the two of them staring at the ceiling, Onagawa relaxes fully, and his mind floods with numbers and with variables. He's X and Obara's Y—for "Yutaka," of course—and they are independent and dependent variables. He really likes that thought, the thought of Obara being dependent on him, and a slow smile blooms on his face.       "What're you thinking?" Obara thinks aloud, though quietly.       "That there's still time left," the shaggy-haired boy replies. "And we could spend it doing other useless things besides homework." He makes a go for it—first one finger (pinky), then two and three, until the fingers of his left hand are loosely tangled with those of Obara's right hand. The room is quiet save for the sounds of summer outside his bedroom window. This really could go any which way, even though Obara's never actually turned him down before. But a part of Onagawa, the one that gets math, counts the ticking seconds of silence between them and screams that this equation has two unknown variables—though Onagawa knows one variable already.       At last, a response. Obara turns his head to face Onagawa, and his smile is small. But it's there. "You win," he remarks with a chuckle, and Onagawa's chest thuds at the precious sight that is Obara Yutaka.       And that's the answer. The equation is solved, both variables are known…but, as Onagawa nudges his head closer to Obara's, he begins to wonder who's actually the dependent one here.

  “Aone-kun, do you need a lift anywhere? Only my father is here,” Moniwa-san asked, staring up at him.

Takanobu shook his head. “There is a bus.”

“Ah ... yes, well, as long as you’re happy with that.” He turned away and then must have thought better of it, because he span back on his heel to face Takanobu. “Thank you, for all your hard work. The Iron Wall won’t disgrace Datekou this year, I know it.”

Not quite sure how to respond, Takanobu nodded and grunted something.  His captain almost gulped, and his smile faltered, but then he rallied, gave an odd sort of wave before heading off towards his father.  

Hoisting his bag over his shoulder, Takanobu left through the back gates of the school, and headed towards the bus stop.  The rain had worsened; fat drops splatting with unceasing rhythm on the pavement, splashing up his tracksuit bottoms. He could feel his left sock getting wet and sighed to himself because he’d hoped to make this pair of trainers last a little longer this time, but it was clear he had another hole  in the bottom where the water was seeping through.

His mother would not be happy about having to buy another pair. He could hear her now. (‘I’m not made of money, Takanobu. Why can’t you make a pair of shoes last beyond two months!’?)

As the bus rounded the corner, he increased the length of his stride arriving at the stop just before the bus arrived. He could hear squeals, and an anxious cry, so as the bus came to a halt, he turned his head. In the distance were two figures, a woman and a child, he thought, both small, both slight, running for all they were worth in the peltering rain.

“You gettin’ on, or what?” asked the driver.  Then he looked at Takanobu properly, starting from his feet and sliding up to his face. “I don’t want no trouble.”

Nodding, he got on the bus, flashing his pass at the driver, but before moving down to find a seat, he hesitated aware the driver wouldn’t move while he stood there.

“You need to find a seat,” he ordered, and despite the glass separating them, the driver cringed back against his window.

“There’s someone else com-”

“OH!  We just made it!” The woman he’d seen in the road, leapt on the bus, dragging her child with her. Both had identical smiles, wide and beaming. “Wouldn’t have wanted to wait in this rain for an hour, would you, sweetheart?”

Having heard enough, not wanting to watch their smiles falter when they realised he was there, Takanobu shifted along to the back of the bus. It wasn’t too crowded, and there were several empty seats he could have sat in, but as he approached, the occupants of the other seats would stretch a little, or place a bag on the spare. He shrugged. He was used to it, knowing his height put people off. But he doubted it affected Kenji in this way.

There were times when Takanobu wished he had Kenji’s ability to annoy everyone because at least people would change their facial expressions when dealing with him. They’d soften or sharpen, depending on whether they were annoyed or laughing. No one looked blankly or fearfully at Kenji.

The back seat row was empty, so he headed there, knowing that at least he had the option to stretch out and avoid people staring, unless they turned their heads in a really obvious way (and they’d flinch as soon as he stared back).

“Find seats for us, darling. Mummy’s got to find her purse,” he heard the lady say, apologising to the driver as she rummaged through her bag.

“Okay, Mummy,” the child – no girl – trilled, as she skipped down the aisle of the bus, all smiles and giggles.

Takanobu watched her as she decided, her head bobbing up and down, causing raindrops to patter off her bright pink rain hat and onto the floor.  An old lady tutted as one solitary drop splashed her skirt, and Takanobu’s eyes narrowed, but the girl hadn’t noticed and edged further down the bus, looking for two seats together.

And then she spied him. Or more specifically, she spied the back seat, and the space there, for not only her and her mother, but also the bags of shopping and her small pink rucksack. He waited for the inevitable backing away, because even though he’d tried to shrink himself into the window, he knew what would happen. She’d see him, falter, glance around for her ‘mummy’, maybe even cry, or gasp or –

She gasped. He closed his eyes and sighed, wondering if she’d burst into tears.

“OOOOH!  Do you play volleyball?”

“Uh...” His eyes flew open, and in total shock, he scrambled to think of a reply, because the small girl was not only talking to him, but she’d sat in the middle of the back row and was now shining her bright smile onto him.

Her eyes were blue and sparkling, there were raindrops on the lashes, and on her nose, highlighting a smattering of freckles on her nose.

“Darling, don’t bother the man,” her mother said, coming up the aisle, sounding breathless.

“B-but he plays volleyball. Look, they’re volleyball shoes!”

“So they are,” the mother replied, and with a small flick of her head, she stared at his bag. “You’re in high school?”

“Mmm.”  He nodded, still utterly confused because now the girl’s mother had sat on the back seat and didn’t look in the least as if she was about to move. Instead, she lifted her bags on the seat nearest the window.

“I like volleyball!” the girl declared and grinned again. “It’s cool and fun and exciting and cool and ... and ... and ... really cool people play it!”

“You p-play?” he found himself saying, his voice shaking.

Her face fell, the corners of her mouth turning down. “I’m seven and they don’t play it at my school. It’s not fair!”

“One day when you get to big school, maybe you can,” he muttered.

“Yes,” she breathed out a sigh, the sort of sigh he’d heard from girls when Keiji walked past. (That was before they knew him and realised just what a pain in the arse he was. Then the sighs would be growls of frustration.)

“I’m going to be a ...” She bit her lip, concentrating hard. “A Middle Blocker!”

“Really?” He laughed, the sound odd to his ears, like another language erupting from his mouth.

“You think that’s funny!”

“No...” He tried a smile, even though he knew that would be the one way to scare her away for good, but the girl was made of sterner stuff and glowered back.

“I am a Middle Blocker,” he continued, his eyes darting to her mother, who smiled mildly at him. “It is the best position. Very ... uh ... cool.”

“I think so,” she said carelessly.

Unzipping the rucksack on her lap, she pulled out a small bag, then with no hesitation thrust it towards him. “Would you like a sweetie? They’re yummy and I haven’t poisoned them!”

“Uh ...” He shook his head in confusion. “Why ... uh ... why would you ...”

“You must forgive my daughter. I tell her she mustn’t accept sweets from strangers in case they’re ... um ... poisoned.”

“Oh ... I’ll ... uh ... No thank you,” he muttered at last.

The mother laughed. “She really hasn’t poisoned them,” she stage-whispered. “And I won’t mind if you’d like one. They’re toffees.”

He accepted one, popping it into his mouth and letting the sweet, buttery taste tantalise his tongue.  The pair of them chewed companionably for a few minutes, Takanobu listening as the little girl still chatted away, telling him how she wanted to join a volleyball club, but they lived too far away for her to make it more than once a week. (She scowled again at that, jerking away when her mother laughed and gave her a cuddle.)

And he wondered, as the bus came to halt at the bottom of his road, if that was the way most parents behaved with their child. If cuddling and toffees and laughter were what had made this girl so endearing and unafraid of a stranger on a bus.

“This is my stop,” he said, stooping a little to avoid banging his head. He held out his hand, and bowed to both of them. “It has been a pleasure to meet you.”

“Me too,” she chirped, and with another grin, instead of shaking his hand, placed two more toffees in his palm. “Good luck with volleyball!”

He smiled as he disembarked and took slow strides up his road. It was still raining, but the sunshine in her smile had warmed him as surely as if it had been summer.

It was only when he reached his house, facing the black mausoleum-like door, that he remembered Obara and Sakunami.

‘Pay it forward.’ Those had been the words on the note.

A random act of kindness, but in his case not so random.