#ukai fluff

love doesn’t look like flowers. or chocolate. or serenades.

love, for you, looks like ukai keishin showing up at your door with two cups of instant ramen clutched like prized jewels, hair sticking up from the wind, breathless from running across town at ungodly hours, all because you texted him something as simple as “i’m hungry.”

there are couples who buy matching rings. couples who take aesthetic instagram photos at cafes. couples who plan vacations to bali.

and then there’s you, sitting cross-legged on your couch at 1:43 in the morning, while your boyfriend—your absolutely deranged, ramen-obsessed, you-obsessed boyfriend—slides steaming noodles across the coffee table like he’s just cracked the code to eternal happiness.

“this,” he says proudly, tearing the wrapper off chopsticks with his teeth. “is love.”

“it’s literally convenience store ramen,” you point out, squinting at the cup.

“it’s imported convenience store ramen,” he argues, stabbing the lid with his chopsticks. “imported straight from the corner shop i personally ran to at one in the morning for my perfect, precious girlfriend.”

he says it with such conviction that you can’t help but laugh, even though you know he’s half-serious. no, scratch that—fully serious. this is the man who treats your texts like divine summons. a single emoji from you could probably send him sprinting into traffic if it meant arriving at your door half a second faster.

you didn’t realize what you were getting into when you first started dating him.

back then, his clinginess was… subtle. manageable. kind of cute, even. he’d offer to walk you home after late shifts, text you goodnight without fail, bring you snacks at practice. normal boyfriend stuff.

but then one night, in a haze of hunger and boredom, you’d texted him:

you: wish i had ramen rn :(

he showed up seven minutes later.

SEVEN MINUTES.

you hadn’t even finished brushing your teeth before there was a knock at your door, and when you opened it, there he was—grinning, sweating, noodles in hand.

“delivery,” he said, like this was an amazon prime service exclusive to you.

you laughed so hard you nearly dropped the cup. but the ramen was hot, and he looked so proud of himself, and when he leaned against your doorway catching his breath, you’d kissed him for the first time.

and that was it. sealed. done deal. his brain hardwired that cause and effect together: text → ramen → kiss.

now you can’t untrain him.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

your girls think it’s funny.

“so let me get this straight,” kiyoko said once, eyebrows raised. “you text him… anything… and he comes running with ramen?”

“pretty much,” you admitted, sipping your drink.

“even at three in the morning?”

“especially at three in the morning.”

yachi gasped. “that’s… that’s like, romantic, right?!”

“that’s like unhealthy,” kiyoko muttered, but the corners of her mouth twitched.

you didn’t bother defending him. because yeah, maybe it was a little much. maybe normal boyfriends didn’t literally drop everything to rush to their girlfriends with convenience store noodles like their lives depended on it. maybe it wasn’t healthy.

but it was him. and you loved him.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

of course, keishin doesn’t see this as a burden. he sees it as his calling.

“what if one day you text me and i don’t show up?” he says dramatically one night, sprawled across your lap like a cat who’s had too much caffeine.

“i mean, i’d probably just… eat something else,” you reply, scrolling your phone.

he gasps like you stabbed him in the chest. “betrayal.”

“keishin.”

“utter betrayal,” he groans, throwing an arm over his face. “you’re supposed to say you’d starve without me.”

“you’re so dramatic.”

“you’re my whole life,” he insists, peeking at you from under his arm. “i have to bring you ramen. you think i’d be able to sleep at night knowing you’re hungry?”

“you barely sleep at night anyway.”

“exactly! now i’ve got a reason!”

and he grins that lopsided grin, the one that makes you want to kiss him and strangle him all at once.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the thing is, you do test him sometimes.

you’ll text him the dumbest things just to see what happens.

you: i’m cold

keishin: omw. with ramen. and myself. mostly myself.

you: i wish i had chips

keishin: store closed. but i brought ramen.

you: craving pizza

keishin: guess what i’m holding rn. ramen.

he never misses. and he never fails to add himself to the equation, as if the ramen is secondary and he’s the real prize.

(which, to be fair, is true. the ramen’s never as good without him sitting there watching you eat it like a man who’s just built fire for the first time.)

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

but tonight feels different.

you hadn’t texted him. not really. you’d sent a vague “ugh” at midnight, nothing more.

and yet—three-tap knock. your door creaks open.

there he is. ramen in hand. again.

“i didn’t even say anything this time,” you protest as he kicks off his sneakers.

“you didn’t have to,” he says smugly, setting the cups down. “felt it in my soul.”

“felt what?”

“that my girl needed me.”

you open your mouth, but nothing comes out. because what are you supposed to say to that? it’s insane. completely unhinged.

and yet—your chest feels warm, like maybe you’d been waiting for him all along.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

you eat on the couch, legs tangled, his knee pressed firmly against yours like he’s afraid you’ll drift away if he isn’t touching you.

he keeps glancing at you between bites. not subtle glances, either—full-on staring, eyes soft in a way that makes you want to bury your face in his hoodie.

“what?” you ask finally, cheeks heating.

“you look cute eating ramen,” he says bluntly.

you blink. “that’s… probably the least cute thing i do.”

“nah,” he insists, leaning closer, chopsticks dangling from his fingers. “everything you do is cute. breathing? cute. blinking? cute. existing? devastatingly cute. i can’t stand it.”

your face burns. “you’re so embarrassing.”

“you love it.”

he’s right. you do.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

the ramen’s long gone, cups abandoned on the table, but keishin doesn’t move. if anything, he edges closer, draping himself over you like you’re his personal pillow.

his hand finds your waist, fingers splayed like he’s memorizing the shape of you, and when you shift to look at him, he’s already watching—eyes heavy, mouth parted, expression caught somewhere between mischief and desperation.

“keishin,” you whisper.

he swallows hard. “yeah?”

you don’t answer with words. because then he’s kissing you, and it’s nothing like the casual pecks he gives you at practice, nothing like the quick goodnight kisses when he drops you off.

this is messy. urgent. hungry.

he kisses you like he’s starving and you’re the only meal he’ll ever want. like the ramen was just an excuse, and this—your lips, your warmth, your everything—is what he’s really been running to all along.

his hand slides up your back, pulling you closer, closer, like he’s terrified of space existing between you. the other cups your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek, tilting your head just right so he can devour you deeper.

you gasp against his mouth, and he swallows it whole, pressing harder, hungrier, like a man who’s been holding back for too long.

it’s overwhelming. it’s perfect.

when he finally pulls back, you’re both breathless, foreheads pressed together, his lips still chasing yours even as he whispers, voice hoarse:

“forget the ramen. you’re all i need.”

and for once—you don’t tease him. because in that moment, with his hands gripping you like a lifeline and his eyes burning into yours, you believe him, of course you do.

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

‎♡‧₊˚✧ ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა ✧˚₊‧♡

a: haha oh balls, i hope i got his personality right or i’m doing a flip off of the third floor.

© showhay — don’t copy nor translate without my permission. i do not own any of the photos that i have used. credits to all the rightful owners. (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

and thats how he ends up here on the floor with your hands feeling his back to find the tense spots to crack. and he loves you, he really does but he can't help but be scared.

"you know what you're doing right?" he asks, you can hear the crack in his voice because he's nervous.

"yea yea, trust me babe. after this you're going to be thanking me"

"when was the last time you did this?"

as a joke you take a second too long for his personal liking to reply.

"y/n you know i love you right. but so help me god if you break my back, you're paying to hospital bills." he whines. the more time you take the more nervous he gets.

"yea just calm down." you say as you push the heel of your hand into his back feeling the spot. "okay ready..?"

you push your hand a little deeper than it was before and his back cracks and he lets out a groan of relief. the tension in that spot completely. you move your hands down his back finding more spots to crack and you continue your motions down his whole back. after each crack he feels his muscles relax way more.

"okay all done" you say as you move out of his way so he can get up.

"babe..." he starts off, hands coming around your hips to pull you closer, "you are a miracle worker."

"i've been told that a couple of times before" you smile at him, putting your arms around his waist a you look up at him. "now how about i crack your neck?"

"i love you, but i think i've had enough cracking for one day." he's more nervous about you breaking his neck. but he's definitely going to be asking you more often to crack his back.

iwaizumi feels like you're hiding something from him. he doesn't know how to explain it, call it his intuition. but he feels like there's something you're not telling him, and for some reason––aka oikawa, he thinks you're pregnant.

"well if you ask me, iwa-chan, it sounds like y/n might be pregnant."

iwaizumi almost choked on air when his best friend uttered those words. was it true? was he really going to be a father? surely you would have told him, right? why wouldn't you? did you think he'd react badly? did you not want to raise a family with him?

oikawa went on, knowing his friend would get too caught up in his thoughts if they stayed in silence.

"took you long enough anyway, i've been waiting to be your kids' favorite uncle." he waved a hand playfully, "and yeah you'll be wonderful parents too, i'm sure."

that made iwaizumi's familiar oikawa-induced scowl return, earning the volleyball player a half-hearted smack on the back of the head.

iwaizumi's gait slows as he walks into your bedroom, noticing you snuggled in the covers, on your phone. when you notice him you quickly smile and greet him, opening your arms for him to give you a hug and he absentmindedly obliges, his body working on it's own through muscle memory. just the sight of you has him feeling tingly and warm.

you can tell he's not fully there when he pulls away, an almost distant look in his eyes that brings a bubble of concern to your stomach. "are you alright?"

you place a hand on his cheek and he leans into it, tilting his head, his eyes cast down as he sits next to you and wraps his arms around your waist.

his voice is small when he speaks up. "you know you can tell me anything, right?"

you frown, "of course. why?"

you tilt your head to catch his eye and he finally looks up, a hesitant and somewhat fearful look in his gaze. it's not that he was scared that you were pregnant, no. it's that he was worried you wanted to keep it from him.

his hand subconsciously drifted closer to your stomach. "are you pregnant?"

you froze and blinked once, your hand dropping from his face in shock. you don't know what you were expecting but it wasn't that. "wh––no? haji i would have told you if i was. where is this coming from?"

suddenly an embarrassed blush rose to his cheeks as his eyes widened. "uh i don't––" he sighed and let his head drop down, his voice stooping to a mumble. "shittykawa."

you raised a brow, letting out a breath of laughter that brought a smile to his lips. "trust me when i say i would tell you before oikawa if we were having a baby."

iwaizumi nodded, wanting nothing more than to hide his face. so he did, playfully tackling you, the smile on his face widening when you let out a surprised yelp mixed with a laugh as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, wrapping his arms around you to hold you close.

you quickly melted into him, wrapping yourself around him, tangling your legs together in the bed.

his voice was partly muffled as he spoke up, "guess i'll have to tell crappykawa he won't be an uncle as soon as he thought. poor guy was excited too."

you paused, your hand mindlessly playing with his hair. "...i mean...maybe he could be."

iwaizumi's breath hitched and he raised his head to look at the sheepish smile on your face. "yeah?"

you nodded. "yeah." you shrugged, "i'm ready if you are."

his heart started to beat faster, swelling with love as he leaned in to give you a sweet kiss. "i've been ready, doll."

sugawara has had an extra pep in his step all day. he woke up earlier than you to use the bathroom and when he slid back under the covers, you spoke up in your sleep, mumbling.

"mm need to tell...koshi...bout the baby."

his eyes widened, heart rate picking up as he stared at you. should he wake you up? should he call daichi? he was too excited he didn't know what to do.

he kissed you on the cheek and turned on his side to watch you with a smile on his face. he started thinking about what life was going to be like with a mini you with cute chubby cheeks.

he ended up not being able to fall back asleep, so he got an early start to his day. when you finally woke up later, he had already pretty much had a full day, prepping to be the best dad and partner during your pregnancy. he stocked up on all your favorite snacks and ingredients for your favorite meals, along with a bouquet with your favorite flowers. he was also wearing your favorite outfit on him, his softest hoodie for you to cuddle into.

he also made your favorite breakfast, you realized as you walked into the kitchen, a loving smile growing on your face. "kou what's all this for?" you immediately walked into his arms, nuzzling into the fabric of his hoodie. you looked up at him with hearts in your eyes.

"just wanted to remind you how special you are to me, and that i'll always take care of you."

"aw baby."

"so uh is there anything you wanna tell me?" he looked at you hopeful, a smile on his face.

you perked up and his smile widened. "oh, thank you baby, really. you're so sweet to me." you squeezed him tighter.

his smile faltered slightly. "anything else?"

you tilted your head. "um, i love you?"

"i love you too babe." he laughed awkwardly, scratching the back of his head. "nothing uh...nothing else?"

your brows furrowed, an unsure smile on your face. "i don't think so?"

"you know you can tell me anything, right? especially if it's about us?"

"yeah of course i do. but i don't know what you're talking about?"

"the...the baby?"

you blinked. "whose baby?"

he blinked back. "...ours?"

"we don't have a baby...?"

"i thought...i thought we were having one?"

"...why?"

"you said...in your sleep this morning you said you had to tell me about the baby." he smiled, embarrassed. "and now i'm realizing you were probably just mumbling nonsense." he laughed. "sorry babe."

"aw kou," you pouted, both at how cute he is and how thoughful he is to have done all this for you. "you seemed so excited."

he kissed your cheek, smiling "yeah, but i can wait."

you bit your lip. "hm, well maybe...you don't have to wait that long? if you're ready."

he beamed at you, eyes tearing up, heart swelling with love for you. "i've been ready, love."

terushima was seeing signs everywhere. he had a strong suspicion that you were pregnant, and he always trusted his gut.

you'd been moody, clingy sometimes and then absolutely disturbed by his presence within a split second. and then there's the food––

"yujiii"

he came tentatively into the room, slightly afraid. "yes, my love?"

"i'm really craving the sushi from that one place we tried last time."

"the place all the way across town?"

you started to pout, tears forming in your eyes.

"no no no, hey hey, it's okay! we can just order, yeah?"

smiling, you nodded and beckoned him over for a hug. "thank you baby."

he came into your arms, basically sighing in relief. nuzzling into your neck, he mumbled, "this baby's really putting me through the ringer, but i know it'll all be worth it."

you stiffened and he immediately tensed, holding his breath. he didn't mean to say that out loud.

he tried to keep you close but you managed to pull back and look at him. "baby?"

"well yeah..." he looked down to your stomach and back into your eyes.

your eyes narrowed, your left one starting to twitch. "i'm not pregnant."

slowly, he started to back up, eyes wide. "oh–i just..."

"i'm on my period, dumbass!"

he almost tripped on the rug behind him and ran for the door. "i'm gonna order your food baby okay! forget what i just said!"

ukai wasn't a superstitious man. but something about his dream last night was making him think you were pregnant. mainly because you were pregnant in the dream.

he walked into the living room and leaned against the wall as naturally as he could, though he felt more awkward than ever for some reason, glancing at you on the couch and looking away again and again. how should he ask this?

"have you ever thought about what it'd be like if we had one of those little shits running around the house?" he cringed internally, probably not like that.

your brows furrowed in confusion, "you mean a dog?"

a flash of irritation crossed his face, moreso at the fact that he phrased his question so poorly. what was he thinking?

"n-no not like a dog. like...a little minion, you know?"

you tilted your head, even more confused. "a minion?"

he sighed, exasperated "yeah, you know. like...like a kid. our kid."

your brows raised in surprise. "oh––well..." you paused for a moment. "i mean, of course i have."

"i think you're pregnant." he facepalmed in his mind.

"...what?" you looked around, not quite knowing what to think.

he simply nodded, convinced.

"are you saying i've gained weight?"

his eyes widened in panic and he crossed the room in two steps, coming to sit next to you on the couch. "no! no, of course not babe."

"well...then why do you think that?"

"i uh..." he scratched the back of his neck, looking around. "i had a dream."

"a dream?"

"yeah." he looked at you, curious. "have you had any dreams recently?"

"not that i remember..." you looked at him weirdly, slightly concerned by your boyfriend's strangeness. "what happened in your dream?"

"you were pregnant."

you blinked at him. "okay..."

he simply looked at you like you should understand where he was coming from.

"and how did dream you react?"

he placed his chin between his thumb and pointer finger, looking up as he tried to recall. a small smile appeared on his face, "well, i was pretty happy, pretty sure i almost had happy tears." he laughed, almost fondly.

you couldn't help but let a little smile slip at your ridiculous boyfriend. "kei, did you ever stop to think maybe your brain's trying to tell you that you want a baby?"

his lips parted in shock as he looked back to you, eyes blank, blinking as his brain recalibrated. "well...huh, maybe you're right babe."

your smile grew, "i'm always right."

he rolled his eyes playfully, a smirk on his face. "yeah, yeah."

Ukai Keishin, the informational booklet reads, a boy in your year, class 2-1, according to Hirano. She pouts at the division of your attention, your fixation on someone other than her ace player. A slight on her tastes, you suppose, but you assuage her concerns by asking whether she really wants you to crush on him, too. She laughs, the sound light like the chime of a bell before agreeing that, no, it’s better if you don’t like the same boy. The game finishes and she whisks you away to the entrance hall, all for the opportunity to speak with the team before they depart for the bus.

You spot him right away, though it takes him a minute longer to notice you in kind. He speaks with a coach who shares his eyes, his attention glossing over you before coming back, comical in the way he looks around as if he couldn’t believe it was him you were looking at. His teammates notice, guffawing and pushing him, making you laugh at the antics of boys whose lives center around their hobby.

“Uh, hi.”

“Hey, there.” Your smile comes easy, already half-formed by your laughter. “I enjoyed watching you play.”

He scratches the back of his neck, eyes shifting to the side, the slightest downturn to the corners of his lips. “You sure it was me you saw out there?”

As if there are any other players with close-cropped hair and a quasi-delinquent aura to them. “Yeah. You came in and did your job.” And did it well, in your opinion, though you don’t know enough about volleyball for that to mean anything.

“Sure, sure. Don’t see why it’s all that impressive,” he scoffs, though you catch the distinct darkening of his cheeks. There’s a chip on his shoulder, a bit of frustration present, and you wonder whether he wishes he could play more.

Before you can answer, the coach calls them, waving them toward the front. You take the hint, an impending goodbye heralding the end to your quick introduction. He glances over his shoulder before appraising you again, mouth parting like he has more to say.

“Maybe I can find the words later,” you tell him, a quiet promise folded into your words. His lips quirk, not quite a smirk, and you take it as an understanding of what goes unsaid.

It’s easy. He makes it easy—integrating yourself into his life like you’ve always belonged. Little jokes here and there, failed attempts at tutoring that turn into hangouts more often than not, attending volleyball games regardless of whether he plays. It feels like the start of something, the gentle pull of something you cannot see and cannot quantify, not that you pay it much mind.

II.

During the summer of your eighteenth year, Ukai comes by your house for the first time for a study session.

The offer was genuine, his complaints about his grades reaching critical mass the closer he got to the training camps that his grades would preclude him from—apparently the disadvantages of having a grandfather for a coach outnumber the benefits—but Hirano turned it into an elaborate plot of sorts. Still set in her quest for love, you half-expect the call that comes when Ukai arrives. Abandoning him in the genkan, you answer the phone, hearing her hurried apologies interrupted by a fit of giggles, explaining her decision to attend the cinema with Ishikawa instead, away from watchful parents. Ukai overhears, snorting if only because it’s only been a handful of months since she cornered him in the hall, demanding he introduce her to the transfer student in his class. Ishikawa makes her laugh in ways her volleyball player didn’t, satisfying you enough not to make a stink.

That doesn’t stop you and Ukai from placing bets on how long it’ll take before they actually get together.

The television plays in the background, still on from when you were waiting, its chatter constant and distracting. Despite your best efforts, studying gets waylaid, your carefully highlighted and organized notes holding his attention for eleven minutes and not a second more. He shows off his exceptional prowess in distracting you, talking about the few games he plays in before joking about his grandfather, until eventually you both are flipping through the channels, looking for something interesting to watch. Kikujiro is only a couple minutes in and you both argue about the finer details of the plot, the movie apparently a guilty pleasure for you both from when you guys were in middle school.

Hunger wins out in only a matter of minutes, Ukai following you to raid your kitchen while the movie plays in the background, ignoring your continued and futile attempts to get him to return to the books.

At some point, you both grow quiet, comfortable in the silent company of the other as you sometimes do. Kikujiro and Masao sit on the side of the road, with no money and no car, and there’s something about the way Kikujiro encourages Masao to put a tack in the road that tickles you. It builds in your chest as you watch him place it in the street, hoping a car would run it over so they could get it to stop and manipulate the driver into helping them out. The first car passes and they adjust its placement, and the second car hits it, the speakers on the television offering a clean pop! of the tire and you and Ukai split into a fit of laughter at the sight of Kikujiro and Masao sprinting in the opposite direction of the car running off the road. Tears gather in your eyes and part of you thinks it’s less about the movie and more about the company, the way your smile always comes easy when he’s around.

It carries on, Hisaishi’s music providing a lovely score as everything else fades into the background, your and Ukai’s conversation roving over hypotheticals:

What lengths would you go to find a long lost relative? (Probably not as far as Masao, but wouldn’t that be nice?). What kind of relative would make you go on that kind of trek? (Ukai argued that a sibling would motivate him, spoken like an only child who never fought over who gets to take a shower first). Where would you go if you had unlimited funds? (Hokkaido, Kyushu, Kansai, Kanto, Chubu, to keep it simple). What would you want to see? (This question easily turned into a series of mini-arguments over what would make for better experiences).

One thing that arises is a mutual agreement that Miyagi feels too intimate and familiar, not ideal for a proper adventure. It comes before a promise couched in a joke, lighthearted and silly, something that feels almost like an impossible dream—at some point in the future, the two of you will explore more of Japan beyond the tiny corner of it that’s claimed your lives so far.

III.

The first time you have the means to make any sort of headway into your promise is the summer that you’re twenty.

Ukai always shrugged it off when you reminded him of it, telling you it was a joke, even though he always smiled and agreed that it’d be nice to have a proper vacation.

So, between university classes and family obligations, you worked, taking any and all kinds of odd jobs to save up money for a trip. Hirano told you that you were being silly, but Ishikawa agreed that it’d be a fun idea, a road trip across Japan. While the other two brushed you off, you and Ishikawa plotted and planned, working against the naysaying of your other two friends.

Everything was careful and meticulous, the costs detailed as you reigned in your fantasies and focused on what would be feasible. Starting as something monumental, grand, an ideal of a freedom adulthood responsibilities would soon make difficult, you molded it into something tangible, entirely within reach. Hirano and Ukai both scoffed at your idea of traveling to Yamanashi, though Ishikawa wore them down all the same, coming to trust the joint idea to hike the Yoshida Trail of Mt. Fuji. (They ultimately agreed when you and Ishikawa told them you’d cover travel and lodging costs along with doing all the heavy lifting as far as preparations went).

You stand at the edge of the trail on the mountain’s side, the cool of Fujisan’s shadow ebbing away with the rise of the sun that paints the sky. Deep blues belonging to the night melt away for the yellows and oranges of the day until it all turns blinding. There’s still a chill that has settled in your bones, sticking to you as though steeling you against the sweltering heat that will come with the summer day—a promise that the sun will come and kiss your skin again.

Hirano and Ishikawa are ahead on the trail, their voices carrying in the silence of nature, and you turn to Ukai in time for it to rattle against your ribs. A revelation you’re a little scared to have, something you’ve been standing on the cusp of the entirety of your friendship.

In the warmth of the morning sun, with gentle shadows of the eyelashes on his cheeks, your heart thuds, halting and startling, making you buzz.

“This isn’t something you can see in Sendai.” You’re not sure whether your words carry beyond the immediate space before you, voice light and sounding foreign, nerves eating away at you in a way they hadn’t before.

With the quirking of his lips, you smile, involuntary, and he answers, “Eh. A sunrise is a sunrise. We didn’t need to come all the way out here for this.”

His eyes flick to you, landing on the smile that was turning into a playful scowl. It encourages an answering smile, a continuation of your give and take, the natural development of your relationship. Pushing at his shoulder, you scrunch up your face before sticking your tongue out, making him laugh, causing your own.

“Don’t be an ass. You know it’s different here.”

Beneath the vastness of the open sky, a day of adventure ahead of you, and the promise of good company beside you, you believe there’s no way Sendai could compare.

Ukai clicks his tongue in pure obstinance, his smile communicating more of his reluctance to admit you’re right than anything. “Yeah, sure. Maybe I’ll drag you along for hatsuhinode and you’ll see that it’s all the same.”

Another promise, but you don’t mind.

As the climb continues, your muscles begin to ache, your once wonderful idea coming to bite you in the ass. Hirano similarly struggled—of you four, she was the one least physically prepared for the excursion—and your decision to slow down giving her a facsimile of grace.

She rests beside you and without so much as a glance says, “Oh, you’ve got it bad.”

“What do you mean?”

“You like him. Like, really, truly like him. It’s kinda embarrassing.”

Your snort gets muffled with the sound of you rifling through the bag, searching for canteens. “You’re one to talk, pining after Ishikawa all these years.”

She laughs, the sound sounding like the breeze itself, and takes the water you offer. The sunlight plays in her stray hairs, giving her a glowing halo. “Are you saying you need me to set an example?”

“Hah! As if.” Like you, she carries this perfect idea of a confession, a lingering sense of idealistic romance pushed by her crush.

And, as if to prove you wrong, she spends the remainder of the hike by his side, only to confess upon reaching the summit, practiced and polished and definitely out of breath, leaving you in the dust. They leave you and Ukai together for the remainder of the trip, Hirano looking smug whenever you catch sight of her.

It’s not until you’re both soaking in the onsen at the day’s end that she reveals she had always intended to confess, but had hoped to goad you into action beforehand to give her a boost of courage. When you all gather for supper, it stays in your periphery, the constant exciting thrumming of your heart. There’s something in the way Ukai looks at you, a question that goes unasked, and for once you find yourself afraid to seek an answer.

If you’re wrong, if these feelings belong to you and you alone, what good does it do you to speak them aloud other than to potentially ostracize one of your best friends?

IV.

You’re twenty-six when Ukai returns to Karasuno.

In the months leading up to summer, Ukai would head to the izakaya tired and weary, complaining about the contemporary Japanese lit teacher who had taken over his old club. Each time, you smile and nod, staying silent in the face of his constant reassurances that he would not, under any circumstance, return to coach the new team.

(You knew from the moment you met him that he loved the sport too much to ever give it up.

He proved this time and again, dragging along Shimada and Takinoue into the neighborhood association despite their constant bellyaching in high school. Volleyball remained in his heart, almost as though part of his blood, and so, to you, there wasn’t any reality in which he didn’t return.)

The text comes a half-hour before and you’re about halfway done making gyoza when you call for him to let himself in. He lumbers forward, the weight of their loss weighing on his shoulders, the first display of such following the game. In his left hand is a pack of beer, and in his right, an unopened pack of cigarettes. Before you can chastise him, remind him he can’t smoke here, you see him—a haggard edge to him, tender in its nature. It’ll be gone before too long, simply needing someplace to rest before disappearing.

You swallow your words, instead stealing his pack before he can sit down.

The crackling of the food fills the space, the aroma growing stronger in your kitchen—pork and garlic chives making your mouth water. After a bit, Ukai approaches, grabbing the magnetized bottle opener from your fridge. There’s the refreshing crack of the first bottle, then the second, your hand already open and waiting for him to give you your drink.

Behind you, he leans against the counter, eyes unfocused when you look over your shoulder. After a beat, he says, “They were so close.”

“I know.” You remember the late night phone calls, the strategizing he would do, using you as a soundboard even though you could offer little feedback in turn. You remember his excitement, his surprise at their quick growth. But even you know that it would’ve been one hell of an achievement for them to make it all the way in their first tournament together, as unpolished as they were from inconsistent training over the years. Even still, it’s present in his voice, a similar desire to grow with them, to pass along his love for the sport in what little ways he can. “It was good of you to take them to Osuwari after the match. Sensei told me it was your idea.”

“Well, yeah. I can’t let those volleyball nerds miss out on a valuable Karasuno tradition. Besides, someone has to teach them about proper diets for athletes!”

It makes you want to laugh. It’s been years, but you can still hear the reluctance with which he listened to his grandfather’s dietary recommendations if only because it was his grandfather. But if anyone would know better, it’d be Ukai.

“Oh, you almost sounded like a coach for a second,” you tease, taking a swig from your bottle, relishing the smooth citrus notes.

“Shut up, will you? If I’m going to do it, might as well do it right.”

“So you’re deciding to stick around? As Coach, I mean.”

Again, his eyes unfocus, and you wonder whether he’s replaying all his coy reluctance over the months, his insistence that if he did return, it’d only be for Nekoma, it’d only be for the qualifiers. Never accepting the permanence of the position. When his eyes find yours again, a similar resolve as when he made his promise on the side of Mt. Fuji. You’ve known the confirmation that swirls on his tongue, waiting to be spoken into the world.

“Yeah.” Sure, full of inevitability.

The gyoza finishes and he pops open a second beer, his cheeks turning red as you plop the food down in front of him. Instead of joining him, you appraise him, finding no signs of that weight he came in with, only the steady assurance of the choice he’s finally come to accept. It makes you smile, gentle, entirely for yourself.

“You’ll come to all the games, right? Cheer ‘em on?”

Sure, but it’s not quite them you’ll be supporting. Looking up, you find that smirk, a little lopsided and self-satisfied, and you warm, even without the benefit of your food. “When have I ever missed a game of yours, Ukai?”

V.

Ishikawa and Hirano are due to marry in Osaka the summer you’re twenty-eight.

The invitation came, followed by a call from Hirano, apologizing, telling you Osaka was Ishikawa’s idea and that she couldn’t say no. She struggled to believe you when you said it was fine, the perfect excuse to take a week off in August to explore a city you’ve always wanted to visit. Then Ukai called, asking if you could believe them, inviting him to a wedding set so far away. And then you reminded him that the Tokyo training camp would have finished two weeks before, that they would not be involved in any other training camps, that Karasuno summer break would be in full swing, and that it had been three years since he had last taken an honest vacation.

All the tiny day trips you took across Tohoku on stray weekends here and there all came to a halt following his return to Karasuno, not that you could complain. Coaching made him happy, made him smile in ways you hadn’t even realized you were missing. Even still, it doesn’t take much more convincing for him to agree to a week long road trip to Kansai.

It starts with you trying to cram your luggage into his tiny kei car, bothering him about the little yellow warning light on his dashboard that could symbolize any number of things, only for him to brush you off. Two hours into a ten hour drive to Osaka, the rear driver-side tire becomes flat, the car puttering pathetically as he pulls off to the side of the road. The Japanese Auto Federation contact is already pulled up on your phone before he can turn the car off.

“Don’t say it.”

“Say what?” Your thumb hovers over the call button and you decidedly keep your attention glued to your device. (It takes everything in your willpower not to laugh, to ignore the way he slumps forward in the driver seat in your peripheral). “Something the matter, Ukai?”

“I’ll say! We’re still eight hours away from Osaka and we’ve got a busted tire! Why the hell aren’t you freaking out more?”

Truth is, you’re simply glad to fulfill another aspect of your promise, to spend time with him away from the obligations of work and bills. But the part of you that loves to tease him keeps you from expressing any of this, instead calling for help and receiving an ETA of an hour.

The two of you got out of the car, enjoying the warmth of the day while you waited. Minutes ticked by, Ukai feeling too guilty to make for good conversation. (While you pointed out the warning light on the dash earlier, it really could mean anything from a gas cap not being tight enough to low tire pressure. Checking all possible reasons for its presence would’ve taken more time than this hour waiting).

Around the fifty-minute mark, you turn to him, the memory of your first promise lingering in your mind. You trace his profile with your eyes, the line of his nose, the gentle creases from his frequent smiles and shared laughter. “You think someone did us dirty like in Kikujiro?”

“What, you mean like someone put a tack in the road to try and hitchhike?” He knows you’re joking—he has to—but that doesn’t stop him from turning his head in the way you came.

“Yeah. What if it just… stuck so perfectly in the tire that we didn’t know it for a while?”

“I think you watch too many movies. We’re on the expressway. We’d be going too fast for that anyway.” But he smiles that smile while he lights up his cigarette, joining you as you lean against the little yellow car that’s taken you on many adventures before.

Clicking your tongue at him, you gesture for his smoke, a silent request he rarely obliged. “Sure, but you’ve seen it, too. Hell, you knew exactly what I was talking about without having to specify which scene.”

To your surprise, he hands it over, fingers brushing against yours, a fleeting touch that brands you as quickly as a cigarette’s kiss might.

“Got me there.”

Pulling out his phone, he checks the time, the hour almost up. As you take a drag, acrid smoke curling around your fingers, his mouth turns into half a scowl.

“Should we try hitchhiking to get into town and fix it ourselves?” Ukai offers you his pocket ashtray, holding it for you as you tap the cig, letting it gather in the pouch.

“Yeah? How do you propose we get people to stop? They’re going too fast.”

“We could, I dunno… use a tack?” It comes on the edge of your laugh, a tiny chuckle that grows in volume, becomes full-bodied, impossible for him to not join in. He steals back his cigarette as you lean on him for support, fingers digging into his arm.

“We could kill someone like that,” he says between laughs. “Or do you want us to get our cardio in for the day, running away from the scene of the crime?”

“Maybe. It’s been a while since we got up to some shit.”

You stick your tongue out, a playful gesture you’ve done a thousand times before. His smile is slow to fade, eyes glued to the shape of your mouth. The seconds tick down and your heart begins to thunder against your ribs and for a second you wonder whether this is it—

Only for a car to slow and pull in behind you, the JAF offering professionalism and a spare tire.

The following day, you arrive at the wedding without issue. You and Ukai stay close, small laughs and warm conversations keeping you both safe from wandering eyes. In the face of your friends’ love, outpouring and borderline overt, it’s the first time you feel almost painfully single. But then Ukai will crack a joke and nudge your shoulder and that moment by the car replays in your mind and you think maybe you aren’t as alone as you feel.

VI.

In the months following the road trip to Kansai, everything has shifted five centimeters to the left. It’s impossible to describe, difficult to pinpoint, but everything is heightened, your skin buzzing in ways it wasn’t before. The following hatsuhinode trip is no exception to this.

Keishin kept his promise following your trip to Mt. Fuji, dragging your ass out of bed before the asscrack of that first dawn, letting your barrage of complaints and half-hearted insults slide off his back as easily as rain sluicing off his umbrella. Each year, he’d take you to the Taihakusan Forest, this one spot in the foothills perfect for peeking through the trees to look out over southern Sendai and Natori, out to the ocean.

(Each year, he’d drag you through one trail or another, always joking about attempting the climb to Mt. Taihaku despite the frigid conditions. Each year, he’d find himself out of breath a couple hours in, ignoring your laughs as he’d pull out a cigarette when you two reached the car.)

This year, however, he takes you to the ocean. Nagome, specifically, the Yasaka Shrine at the end of the road. He’s quiet in ways he usually isn’t, though exhaustion doesn’t eat at him like it does you. It’s been years since he started tending the land, acclimated to early hours that regularly make you blanch. The drive is mostly silent, sleep clinging to your mind and body like the sticky cobwebs in your garden.

The waves crash against the concrete as you step out, the mist of the sea landing on the skin of your cheeks, this chill almost comforting as opposed to what you’d find at home. Keishin comes to stand at your side, the cold keeping you two close enough that your arms brush against one another. And when the sun rises, its reflection broken upon the surface of the Pacific, you put to thought your wish for the year, something that’s been building in your heart for far longer than this past year.

“So? Ready to admit that the sunrise atop Fujisan is something special?” Another tradition of sorts, the first question you always ask once the sun is fully visible in the morning sky.

He snorts, the sound low and familiar. “Not even a little bit.”

The sky turns the vibrant orange of daidai, the waves following if only for a moment, blues overwhelmed with the brilliance of the sun. Yeah, you could admit this sunrise is something special, too.

“Got a wish for the New Year?” you ask, unable to take your eyes off the ebbing and flowing of the sea, the crashing of the waves against the islets scattered off the coast.

“Yeah, but I can’t tell you.”

The lift of your lips is involuntary, as it so often is with him. “Why not?”

You feel the warmth of his attention as he turns to face you, but you keep your attention ahead, your own wish engraving itself upon your fourth and fifth ribs.

“You gonna tell me yours if I tell you mine?” Your smile turns into a grin, answer tucked inside, visible if not audible. Keishin laughs, the sound almost enough to warm your face. “See? You won’t even tell me!”

“Yeah, cause I want it to come true.”

Keishin’s laugh chimes again, his hand coming up, nudging your shoulder before turning around. “And you think I don’t?”

It grows cold as he walks away, soft steps tapping against the concrete path.

“C’mon. I brought breakfast from Sakanoshita.”

“How generous of you.”

You’re slow to leave, still enchanted by the dance between the sun and the sea, turning after a minute more. He waits for you at the base of the stairs of the artificial bank, expectant but not impatient. The briny scent hangs heavy in the air as you come closer, and you wonder whether this is the year you find the courage to change anything.

VII.

You’re twenty-nine by the time August 8th rolls around, Sendai abuzz with the last of Tanabata Matsuri.

Keishin pulls you along as you still say your goodbyes to Takinoue and Shimada in the izakaya, laughing as he does. The moment you stop pulling against him, he releases you, trusting you to manage yourself while his hand jams itself in his pocket, reaching for his last cigarette. You sway a little, your world still spinning, still blurred at the edges, the taste of sake still sitting on your tongue.

Tanzaku can be found in abundance everywhere, wishes written on colored slips of paper in hopes they’ll come true. It makes you smile, makes you hope, eight months having passed, seemingly no closer to mustering the courage to speak. But if all these people can hope and wish and pray then surely one of your wishes will come true—perhaps yours will, too.

A breeze blows through, hindered and halted by the city infrastructure, weak by the time it reaches you, though the tanzaku bob in greeting nonetheless. Petrichor filters through the air, hinting at an impending storm, punctuating the wafting scents of food—mapo yakisoba and ghoshiki somen and karinto and more—interrupting the way hunger hangs in the air, encouraging people to eat their fill. As you turn your nose to the air, lifting your chin in hopes of catching the promise of rain, you nearly run into something, saved by a familiar hand wrapping around your wrist and pulling you closer.

Keishin shakes his head, gentle and disbelieving, making you feel giddy. The sound of his sigh gets lost in the crowd and you wait for it, the eventual release of your arm to scratch the back of his neck as his eyes shift to the side, tongue coming out to wet his bottom lip before he’ll inevitably smile—because he will. His smiles always come easy when you’re around. You know this because they’ve been affecting you since he first directed it your way after a joke back in high school.

And he does. Smile. Reluctant, full of exasperation maybe, but you know that despite his outward composure, he’s just as buzzed as you. He can play the babysitter all he wants—he looks good doing it, coaching those kids from your old high school—but the truth of the matter is, he’s been waiting for a chance to properly drink, away from coaches and away from Sensei. The two of you weave through the crowd, everyone moving to watch the evening events. Keishin counts on their attention being elsewhere so the smoking areas will be mostly empty.

Sure enough, the closest one is barren, everyone hurrying home or toward the performances. Your mind swims, heart picking up at the solitude, a silly reaction, you think, considering how often you two have done this. This isn’t anything new, tonight isn’t anything special, and yet your heart patters, pathetically so, and you open your mouth, hoping to find some kind of distraction.

Anything.

(It’s a shame, then, that you get hung up on something that’s bothered you since Ishikawa’s wedding, lingering in the back of your mind in the quiet moments when you and Keishin are together.)

“Hey, Keishin,” you ask before you can help yourself.

He glances up, cigarette between his lips as he pulls out his lighter. “Oh, I never like that tone.”

“What tone? I have a tone?”

The lighter clicks a couple of times before lighting, its fluid running low. That first drag is a relief, the muscles in his face relaxing as he closes his eyes, the smoke escaping on his exhale. When he opens them again, they find you immediately, a little playful even as he frowns. “Yeah, you have a tone. You always use it when you’re about to poke me for answers.”

“Poke? I don’t poke.”

“You poke.” Said with a deadpan that makes you rethink the other times you’ve had questions for him.

(You’re coming up empty).

“I don’t think I do.”

“Of course you don’t think you do. You’re not the one getting poked!” Keishin points at you with his two fingers, his cigarette secured between them, the cherry red tip glowing.

Do you really poke? He makes it sound unpleasant. Do you make him feel unpleasant?

In the corner of your eye, he shifts his weight from one leg to the next, taking another drag, his smoke hovering in the air before dissipating. “Fine. Ask your question.”

Turning to him, you tease your bottom lip, turning the question over in your mind, still unsure of how to phrase it. It’s rather personal, you think. Enough that you haven’t asked. (Everyone else has asked, but you’ve always given him grace. It could be that you didn’t want to know the answer, afraid of what you might find out).

“What? What is it?”

You open your mouth only to close it, realizing that you are, in fact, about to poke. “I think… I’m about to poke.”

His smile is instantaneous, incredulous. “See? You poke!”

“You’re being a little silly, don’t you think?” The words tumble in your mouth, knowing that if you’re going to ask, it’s gotta be now. With a deep inhale, you find the courage, digging deep inside you and pulling it forward. (It almost feels like you’re finding the courage to do something else). “Why are you still single?”

Keishin’s smile evaporates, face going slack, slight worry stitching his brows together. “What?”

“Yeah. I’ve been wondering for a while.”

“Does it matter?” The answer comes quick, one of his rare deflections. Usually he’s honest, earnest. It always sticks out like a sore thumb when he’s not.

“I dunno. I’ve just been curious.”

“Why are you curious?”

It’s burned in the back of your mind, watching the younger Hirano sister make eyes at Keishin at the wedding and every time you’ve seen them interact since. Your mother certainly wants to know, having asked several times over the years why you don’t just marry the ‘Ukai boy,’ eventually counting among the many older women trying to set him up. You’ve never asked and it bothers you that you don’t know. Perhaps this is why you’ve kept your affections to yourself.

“Oh, I don’t know. It’s just… Takinoue still goes out to those singles meet-ups. Shimada’s been in a relationship for a while now. We were there for Ishikawa’s—”

“Are you going somewhere with this?”

“So touchy.” As he brings the cigarette up to his lips, you step forward, plucking it from his hand, your fingers lingering against his. Maintaining eye contact, you pull back, bringing it to your lips instead. The nicotine calms your nerves. “I’m just… curious. I know the women in the neighborhood all want to set you up with their daughters and granddaughters. They ask me about it all the time.”

Usually this would be the point where he steals his smoke back, but he watches as your lips shape around his cigarette, the intensity of his stare making your skin buzz, a faint electricity humming. Instead, he offers you his ashtray, nearly dropping it before it makes it into your hand.

“They shouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, well, they say you usually don’t stay on the phone long enough for them to ask anymore.”

(Not that you can blame him).

“Because it always turns into an attempt at match-making.”

Part of you wants to laugh, but you continue, not wanting to let him get away with not answering. “Even my mom got on me about it. She tried using me to set you up with Kominato’s daughter.” Among others, but Kominato’s the only one who actually gets on with Keishin.

He steps forward, brows coming together completely, trying to piece it together. “Why would she do that?”

“I don’t know! You ask like I have an inkling as to what she’s thinking half the time.” It’s a lie. You know why she’s pressing, and you’re a little pissed that her plan is… kind of working right now. “She’s always gone on about how you’re such a great catch. I guess she finally got tired of you being single.”

Something shifts behind his eyes, making him lean in. When you take a step back, taking another drag from his cig, he doesn’t follow.

“Well? You didn’t give me any phone numbers.”

Your laughter bubbles up, making you choke on the smoke. “Do you want me to try for her? Here I thought I was doing you a favor.”

His laughter follows, realizing what he implied. (It makes you wonder what exactly was the purpose of his asking). “Please, no.”

“But you haven’t answered my question.”

“You turn people down, too.”

Is it really such a secret that he can’t tell you? That he’s going to turn this around on you?

“I’ve dated.” Keishin’s met a couple of them. He’s listened to you complain about your dates, most happening during your days at Tohoku, but, unlike him, you’ve dated. Unless he’s kept his dates secret from you.

“It’s been two years.”

The certainty of his words makes your breath catch in your throat. “I… didn’t realize you kept such close tabs on me.”

If you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s blushing, but it’s dark and the light isn’t the best here, so you’re content to attribute it to something else. His exhale comes a little uneasily and he looks away. “Ishikawa’s been insistent on keeping me up to date on your… dating life, apparently.”

“That’s news to me.” Though not surprising. Ishikawa was always a gossip.

“It’s not like it matters.”

The truth creeps up on you, slow as it crawls its way to your heart. Your mother. Ishikawa. Keishin being… nervous. It sits in the back of your throat. You know it, and yet you’re still afraid to give it form.

Discomfort begins to grow, wrapping itself around your chest, and you do what you’ve always done. With a light laugh, a little dismissive, you ask, “Do you need help? More one-on-one?”

It works, enough to make him laugh, to get him to release the tension in his shoulders. You smile as you finish his cigarette, tucking it inside the red and white pouch, his laugh doing nothing for your overexcited heart. “What the hell?”

“I mean, the younger Hirano makes eyes at you every time she sees you.”

Keishin steps forward, his smile still present as he takes the ashtray. “Does she now?”

“Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”

His hands lift in surrender, the little pouch tucked under the fourth and little fingers of his right hand, though there’s something gleaming in his eyes that makes you pout. “I haven’t!”

“Please. The amount of times she’s stopped by Sakanoshita since the wedding—”

“Cause you’re keeping tabs?”

Heat flashes behind your cheeks, sitting high on your face before tendrilling down your neck and across your chest. It gets hard to breathe, a weight pressing on your lungs and logically you know it’s the sake, but that doesn’t stop you from getting a little irritated. “So?”

(Yeah, it’s definitely the alcohol. You’re usually not this petulant.)

“So?” he shoots back, the heat of his stare starting to burn.

(At least he’s just as drunk as you.)

“If not the younger Hirano, then—”

“You wanna know why I’m still single?!” This is the closest Keishin’s ever gotten to raising his voice at you, taking yet another step forward, cementing you in place. You wouldn’t even have to lift your hand all the way to touch him.

“Please! It’s what I’ve been asking this whole time.”

“Because of you!”

Time ceases, your heart pauses, your lungs no longer holding air. And then a flame sparks behind your heart, the rapid incineration of kindling you hadn’t realized was there. A memory shakes loose, the frustrated words of your best friend at her wedding, stealing Keishin’s seat after he got up to grab more beer.

I can’t stand this. Watching you two is like watching twin stars, trapped in each other’s orbits. Everyone knows you’ll come together eventually, so why not now?

As he stares at you in similar surprise, not quite believing his outburst, all you can think about is your response to her at the time.

If we’re twin stars and it really is inevitable, you should know that you can’t rush it.

After twelve years… Is this it?

Everything rushes you, overwhelming—the rapidfire beating of your heart, the shallowness of your breaths, the itching of your palms.

“What?”

“You heard me.”

“Wait—”

His hands raise again, gesturing at you like he’s torn between holding you and shaking you. (You’re not entirely sure which). “You’re so infuriating sometimes!”

“Keishin—” You reach for him, needing something to steady you as everything begins to shift.

“What?”

“What do you mean because of me? You can’t—”

Your hand comes to land on the crook of his elbow, drawing his attention for half a second. “Is it so unbelievable?”

“You haven’t dated anyone since shortly after we left Karasuno.” That would mean that he’s been holding onto this for ten years.

“Yeah. Honestly, I’ve probably been stuck on you since we first met. And what about you?”

“What about me?” Your fingers tighten around his arm as if he’ll somehow ground you when you otherwise feel as though the rug’s been pulled out from beneath your feet.

“Why are you still single? You dated, but haven’t taken anyone seriously since your first year in university.”

“Why do you think?”

“Why date at all if you weren’t going to try?”

Is that the crux of his logic? That it wasn’t worth trying if it wasn’t you?

“Because…” Fuck it. “I was trying to get over you. Thought it’d be better than losing you if I was the only one… feeling this way.”

“Seriously?” He ducks his head, lingering frustrations disappearing.

“Why’d you think?”

Keishin’s laugh begins to unravel the knot that had been forming behind your ribs, making you feel incredibly silly for how this all transpired. But the weight you had been carrying lifts and it feels easy to breathe—easier than it has been in months. “I don’t know. I just thought you had shit taste in dates.”

“Wow, thanks.”

And everything’s back in place, except better. Everything that had shifted five centimeters to the left comes back and it feels like you two are still who you’ve always been. When you pull away, you feel steady. Secure.

“Can you blame me?”

“Yeah, I can blame you. Why didn’t you say anything, you dummy?”

No wonder everyone felt exasperated watching you both dance around what must have been incredibly obvious.

When he steps closer, when your heart hiccups in your chest, it feels like everything you’ve ever wanted is in reach.

“I think you just answered your own question.” There’s tenderness in the way he watches you, unguarded, and part of you wonders whether it’s always been there but you’ve been too blinded to see it.

“What, that you’re a dummy?” You step closer, too, feeling like you two really are twin stars.

“Yeah, I’m a dummy.” He leans in, eyes searching yours before dropping to your lips. There’s an intensity to him, a familiar sort of passion that you always thought you could drown in. “So? What’d’ya say?”

Scoffing, you turn away, playful in your faux disapproval of his segue. “About what?”

“You’re going to make this painful for me, aren’t you?” His hand comes to your jaw, pulling your face back to him and warmth blossoms across your face again.

“Have I ever made anything easy for you?”

“Yeah, actually. It’s too easy to like you.” Fingers shift against your skin, his touch tender as it moves to the back of your neck. With his thumb, he smooths over your jaw, delicate in a way that makes your knees weak. You lick your lips and he tracks the movement, mirroring your smile.

“Oh, now you’re a flirt.”

His chuckle fans against your lips and it feels like your heart is in your throat. “Will you shut up?”

You shift, your lips coming to barely brush against his as you speak, the touch feather light, just a tease. “Will you make me?”

When he finally presses his lips to yours, it feels like an inevitability, soft and sure and familiar like home. He smiles into the kiss, his free hand coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you a little closer, like the space between your bodies is entirely too much. Your hands wrap around his neck, and for a moment you swear you hear the distant fireworks in Nishi park, a second imagined showing to commemorate the end of Tanabata, the reunion of celestial lovers.

You and Keishin aren’t anything of the sort, but perhaps there’s something magical to your inevitable collision as twin stars during the celebration of the Star Festival.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Now you were the one who told him to go and help those kids

You did kinda hype him up about 'being the best volleyball coach there is' lol

He was hesitant but he did it for you and them...

"Come on Keishin, those kids need you..." He hums while smoking his cigarette, looking away from you. You crouch down in front of the counter, tilt your head to the side and look up at him. "Babe..." His eyes dart down to your doe eyes. "Please baby... it would be great for you besides doing this." Your hand wipes on the countertop before you stand up fully. He puts out his cigarette and stands from his folding chair. "You're-- you're right." He leans forward and kisses you. He takes off his apron and walks out the store. He comes back not even seconds later. You wave your hand at him. "I got the store! Go ahead." He smiles, lifts a hand and then heads down to the school. He comes back with a Karasuno jacket and thanks you for pushing him.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You came to his first practice since he had forgot his lunch at home.

As soon as you came in the gym, the boys and even the managers looked over at you.

Needless to say, they were in shock.

You stood at the entrance at the gym with a wrapped bento in hand. Your husband was watching the practice match intently, brows furrowed but relaxed. You couldn't help but smile and gush about how handsome he is in your head. You lightly knocked on the opened door causing his eyes to drift to you. "You forgot this at home..." You show off the cutely wrapped bento before placing it in his open palms. You kiss his cheek and wish him well before leaving. He stands there for a bit, a soft smile on his face. He then realizes that he wasn't hearing any sneakers or the ball being hit and looked over at the practice match. They all stopped to look at what he had going on. "Who was that?!" Nishinoya blurted out. "NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS, RUN 2 LAPS!"

Needless to say, Nishinoya had a couple of dirty looks from the rest of his teammates.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You were hanging out with your hubby when a small orange-headed kid ran over, screaming out his name...

And- jumping...

Really high...

He introduced himself to you and you did the same

"Wait... Ukai?" "Yeah, Ukai Y/n... is something wrong?" "COACH UKAI IS MARRIED?!"

You couldn't help but chuckle at the boy

He was so cute

He was asking Ukai about something to help him with his quick attacks

You smugly look over at your husband and nudge his arm

He knew what was coming...

You opened your car door and smiled. It was one of your favorite places to go and where one of your favorite people resided. "Come on Hinata." Ukai walks next to you and Hinata walks in front, going through the wooden archway. Ukai and Hinata go through first. You hear talking and then you hear Hinata scream. You peek your head through the archway and make eye contact with your father-in-law. "Ah Y/n, my favorite daughter-in-law. How's your day?" "Pretty good, how about yours." You trail off a bit when you see the scene in front of you. Ukai laid out with one sandal half-way on his foot and the other on the other side of the backyard and Hinata in complete shock. You place your hand on Hinata's shoulder and turn to face Ikkei. "He needs to improve his quick attacks and overall work in volleyball. I see you have some kind of camp going on and, if it wouldn't be too much, could you help him out?" "Of course Y/n. Come on kid." You gently push him forward and smile as he fits right in. You look over at Keishin, trying to hold in your laugh as he puts his sandals back on. "Are you okay?" He grumbles, paces over to you and rests his head on your shoulder. "I guess not...I'm going to help your dad with the camp." His head perks up immediately, like he couldn't believe you'd suggest such a thing. "The old man can handle himself." Next thing you know, he's getting thrown again by his own father. You look away to stop yourself from cracking up. "Would you like some tea or water Y/n?" "Oh yes, I'll grab it. Do you want anything?" He shakes his head as you disappear into his house, grabbing a bottle of water for yourself and your husband. You come out in seconds, placing a bottle right by Ukai's face. You smile at him and then sit down next to Ikkei, watching the kids.

Bro got his ass handed to him twice in one day

BY HIS OWN FATHER BYEEEEE

It was so funny and somehow you handled it

Almost...

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

You had a pretty good relationship with all the Karasuno boys now

You went to their games, helped out and kept your husband in check

Now, your first game was amazing

You were cheering for the them the best you could

And they'd always look over at you with big smiles

Even Coach Ukai would have a small smirk on his face

The boys tease him for it lmao

But after the game was over, you forgot something in the gym

And you found Kyoko who had a bento box in her hands

"I think it's Hinata's..." "Oh really? It's so cute." You both were so busy gushing over Hinata's cute bento box that you didn't see the two boys in front of you. They smirked at you both and leaned down slightly. "Well, well, well... what do we have here?" You move Kyoko behind you a bit and look up at the boys. "Two women trying to get out of this gym...now if you'll excuse us." You try to go past but they block your way. "Wait a second, can I have one of your numbers?" "...I'm married." He holds out his phone, waiting for one of you to take it. You both kept denying him of a phone number and then you hear a loud yell. "HEY!" It was Hinata. He ran over and saved you both from the crazy school boys who couldn't take a hint. "She's married to my coach..." "Oh shit, I thought she was kidding." You just sighed and rubbed your head before leaving the gym with the Karasuno manager and Hinata in front of you.

And you bet Hinata told his teammates what happened

Almost all of them were going off the rails.

Especially Nishinoya, Hinata and Tanaka

Ukai thought it was hilarious because you, and I quote...

'don't look that young'

The glare he got from you could shake the whole damn planet

You forgave him soon after and sat next to him

You both fell asleep on the bus

And woke up to a bunch of pictures of you two being airdropped to your phones.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

"You wanna try something orange-flavored?" He asks, voice turning softer. "I think we have something in the store that has no actual orange in it. It tastes pretty decent."

"Nah, it's okay."

"You sure? I'll get it for you after training. Can it wait that long?"

"Yes," you laugh softly, deciding to come clean, "It's not... It's not really about the orange, baby, it's more about the peeling."

Keishin's silent for a second. Then "Hah?"

You laugh, louder this time.

"It's a TikTok Trend. Apparently, if your boyfriend peels an orange for you when you ask it means he loves you."

"Oh," he chuckles low in his throat, a sound that vibrates up and down your spine even at this distance, "You could have just said that. I love you. Of course, I'd peel an orange for you."

"Aw," you start before he cuts in. "Because you don't know how."

"Excuse me?! I do know how to peel an orange."

"Nuh-uh. I saw you cut apples. I don't trust you with oranges."

"Meanie."

"Dork."

"Love you," you add, "When are you home?"

"Aiming for seven. Do you want me to pick something up from the store?"

"Yeah, I'm craving chocolate. The weird one."

"Oh," he laughs knowingly, "It's that time already? I'll bring some Pads too. Just to be safe."

"I have enough at home."

"No, you don't, you're running low. I checked."

Warmth surges through you like a tidal wave. You have to blink a stray tear away. Keishin might not peel an orange for you, but there's no doubt he loves you.

"Hey, I'll call you when I get out, okay? The pack's already here."

"HI MISS UKAI!" You can hear some of them scream in the background, no doubt Nishinoya and Hinata. There's the telltale timbre of Daichi's voice, yelling at them to keep quiet, and the soft murmur of all the others conversing.

"Tell them I'll bake a cake this weekend if they behave."

"No," Keishin chuckles, "I'm not going to threaten them with torture."

"Keishin," you gasp, "My cake is delicious!" But you're laughing even as you say it.

"Love you," he chuckles, "See you later."

"Love you more."