Chapter 1: Alley Strays
Chapter Text
“Haven’t seen you around here before.”
Tobio looks up. The onslaught of rain bounces off the tattered brim of a shabby, black umbrella, eclipsing the tiny boy that stands beneath it. Puddles submerge his beaten sneakers, and the knobbly knees that peek out from his shorts are covered in cuts and bruises. His hair is a matted tangle of playful apricot, sweeping down across the biggest brown eyes Tobio has ever seen.
The boy couldn’t be older than elementary school.
“Did you forget your umbrella?” the boy asks, tilting his head cutely. “You know—I have a pretty sweet cardboard box in the alley next door. I’m happy to share!”
The ‘pretty sweet cardboard box’ is fighting a losing battle against the rain when the boy shows it off to him.
“It’s soggy,” is all Tobio says.
“It’ll dry once the rain stops.”
The boy’s optimism is as stupid as the colour of his hair. It doesn’t look big enough to fit one of them, let alone two.
As if by divine intervention, the box collapses in on itself. The ginger cries, running over to the box to try and prop it up again, only for the creases to tear apart as though it’s given up on itself.
You know, Tobio has only been out on the streets for half a day, and he’s beginning to think it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
“We can’t stay out here. We’ll get sick and die.”
The boy looks up at Tobio with wide eyes. “‘We’?”
He walks up and plucks the umbrella from the boy’s hand. No point letting the little guy hold it if they’re going to share. “My name is Kageyama Tobio. I’m twelve. My pack—” he swallows “—left me. I’m new to the streets.”
The kid looks at him with newfound awe. “H-Hinata Shouyou! I’m also twelve! You—you have a pack? At your age? That’s so cool!”
Tobio snorts. “Weren’t you listening, idiot? I said they left me!”
“I know—but still! I’ve never met someone from a pack!”
“I’m not—oh never mind. Come on, I don’t want to stay out here any longer.”
Hinata nods furiously. “I know just the place to go!”
The smaller boy takes his hand and pulls him along. Tobio finds himself running through the empty, decaying streets of Lower Tokyo with this stranger, feet hitting puddles and Hinata’s laughter echoing through the downpour. Grey water swells in the gutters, pulling bits of stray garbage into its stream, and child silhouettes scuttle into building crevices like sound-spooked mice.
They come to a stop under the cover of an arcade. The ornate glass doors lock them out of the walkway leading to the indoor boutiques, but the entrance shields them well enough from the rain.
They’re out of breath and shivering from cold sweat, but the adrenaline keeps their veins warm. Tobio drops his backpack on the tiles and collapses. Hinata sits next to him.
“What’s in the bag?”
“Stuff,” he exhales heavily.
“What kind of stuff?”
“Survival stuff.”
“But no umbrella, huh?”
Tobio scowls, looking away to hide his blush. “Shut up! It was an oversight, okay?”
“Don’t worry! You’ll get more resourceful as time goes on. It takes a while to get used to it, you know? Being out here, I mean.”
Tobio peeks over at Hinata, curiosity piquing. “How long have you been … out here?”
Hinata looks up at the raining pelting the glass above their heads, scrunching his little nose in thought. “Hmm saw someone taking down Christmas decorations a few weeks back—so that means it’s gotta be almost two years now.”
“Oh. Where are you parents?”
“Don’t have any.”
“Everyone’s got parents.”
“I had foster parents—went through a few of them but you know.” Hinata shrugs, gathering his knees to his chest. “They’d eventually get sick of me.”
“Oh.”
Hinata is quick to change the subject. “But you—you didn’t need parents! You had a pack! Ah man—so flippin’ cool!”
Hinata’s aversion to using swear words is more amusing than Tobio cares to admit. Since strays don’t have parents or guardians to monitor their language, they usually don’t care to censor themselves. “They were a rogue pack.”
“Even cooler!”
This time it’s Tobio who shrugs. “If you say so.”
“I’ve always wanted to be a part of a rogue pack! It’d be like having never-ending sleepovers with your closest friends!”
Somewhere inside Tobio’s chest, he feels an ache.
A ‘rogue pack’ used to be a derogatory slur used by the government and the upper classes to refer to unofficial packs that started springing up in the slums of San Tokyo. Oftentimes these rogue packs are made up of delinquents abandoned by the system or their parents, and are known to run wild through the streets stirring up trouble. Instead of opening up youth centres and orphanages to deal with the unprecedented increase of homeless children in Lower Tokyo, the government outright banned the congregation of rogue packs altogether.
This only led to an increase of rogue packs in the city’s underbelly. Raised to fight, raised to defy, some of the more cunning take the city’s darkness for themselves, getting rich off the exploitations authorities turn a blind eye to.
Now they call themselves ‘rogue packs’ and wear it like a badge of honour.
“Ne, Kageyama-kun?” Tobio blinks. Hinata is looking at him, eyes glittering with enthusiasm.
“What?”
“I asked if it’s like that—like having never-ending sleepovers with your friends?” He’s bouncing his knee like he can barely handle the anticipation of Tobio’s answer.
“No, idiot!” Tobio flicks Hinata square in the forehead. “You really are stupid!”
Hinata’s crumpling expression has Tobio almost regretting his answer, but he’s too stubborn to take it back.
The disappointment only lasts a moment before Hinata springs back again, all smiles. “Well then—who needs ‘em? We can just have our own sleepovers! You got any spooky stories to tell?”
Tobio gives Hinata a funny look. For a moment, they just stare at each other, one smiling and the other frowning. Then Tobio sighs, and reaches for his backpack.
“If we’re doing this, then we’re gonna need some snacks.”
Hinata’s cheers and claps, missing the touches of a smile teasing the corners of Tobio’s lips.
*
It’s mid-spring when Shouyou takes Kageyama to Sea Swallow Park for apple picking. They’ve lived on the streets together for almost a month, and it’s the happiest Shouyou has felt since he ran away from his fourth foster home. There are plenty of kids his age out on the streets (‘strays’ is what the rogue packs call them), but none of them ever wanted to be his friend before.
Shouyou isn’t even sure Kageyama is his friend, but wherever he goes, the tall, lanky raven-haired boy is never far behind. Surely that says something, right? And he really likes that about them. They’re like—like a team! They look out for each other and make sure the other is fed, and they huddle together for warmth and tell each other stories until the shivering stops. It’s probably similar to what packmates are like. At least, Shouyou thinks. Kageyama doesn’t talk much about his time in his ex-pack so he can’t be certain.
“It’s over here!” Shouyou throws over his shoulder as he goes barrelling up the grassy hill. Kageyama’s hot on his heels.
“I’m not letting you beat me this time, idiot!”
“Fat chance!”
Shouyou’s hand slams the base of the apple tree at the same time as Kageyama’s, both of them sweating and gasping for breath.
He takes his hand away, grinning. “Guess it’s a draw.”
“I definitely beat you.”
“Give it a rest, Bakageyama!”
“I told you not to—” An apple comes out of nowhere and hits Kageyama on the head. “Ow! What the—”
Giggles and snickers can be heard from above, and they both simultaneously look up to find two kids sitting on tree trunks with their legs dangling down. One’s tall and skinny, and looks like he could pass for a high schooler. He has choppy blonde hair, goldish brown eyes, and crooked glasses that don’t fit right on his face. The left lens is cracked in the corner, webbing out across like a black widow’s legs, and a piece of tape is wrapped around the right hinge. The other one seems closer to their age, with greenish brown hair down to his ears and freckles dotting his cheeks. They both look like them—like strays.
Glasses takes a bite out of an apple, smugness in his grin; and Freckles has a hand over his mouth, failing to hide his amusement.
Kageyama glares up at them, rubbing the back of his head. “What are you turds doing up there?”
Glasses quirks an eyebrow. “What does it look like we’re doing? We’re eating apples.”
“Our apples.”
“Oh, sorry Your Majesty. I didn’t realise this apple tree belonged to you. Here—please accept my humble apology.” Glasses slings the apple he’d been eating straight at Kageyama, but Shouyou is quicker. He kicks off the base of the tree and catches it mid-air.
“Holy shit—the baby shrimp just flew!” Freckles exclaims.
Shouyou smiles proudly, turning to Kageyama for—something. Actually, he doesn’t know why he turned to look at Kageyama. The raven-haired boy just frowns at him.
“You know I could’ve easily caught that, right?”
Shouyou pokes his tongue out at Kageyama before throwing it back at Glasses, aiming between his eyes. But something unexpected happens. Glasses catches the apple and in the same motion shoves it back at Shouyou. It hits him in the forehead and he falls on his ass. Freckles bursts into laughter. All Glasses does is smirk and pick another apple, taking out a large chunk with his teeth.
Kageyama balls his hands into fists. “Idiot! You’re just gonna take that?!”
“You say it like I wanted it to happen!” Shouyou whines, rubbing his forehead.
“Aw Tsukki, maybe we should stop teasing them and let them have some apples,” Freckles says.
Glasses snorts. “What’re you talking about? I just gave them one.”
“Tsukki …”
“Fine, fine. Oi, Your Majesty! Take whatever. We won’t be able to eat them all before they rot anyway.”
Kageyama glares. “We didn’t ask for your permission!”
The blonde’s smirk widens. “Well I’m giving it to you anyway.”
Shouyou hops to his feet once he’s shaken off the initial shock, and starts jumping on the spot. He then springs three meters into the air, latching onto the branch Freckles is sitting on and swings himself around to land steadily on his feet. Freckles squeaks in surprise, moving further across the branch.
“Goddamn you can jump high!”
“Thanks!” Shouyou grins, plopping down and plucking himself an apple. “They say the best apples are on the highest branches, so I gotta be able to reach ‘em somehow, right?”
Freckles blinks, then his surprise slowly turns to curiosity. “What’s your name?”
Shouyou introduces himself and Kageyama, and Freckles introduces himself as Yamaguchi Tadashi and Glasses as Tsukishima Kei. They’re also twelve, which is kind of shocking. He thought for sure Glasses would be fifteen at least.
Sitting this close to Yamaguchi, Shouyou notices that the boy has a scent on him. What is that—? He can’t pinpoint what the smell is.
Kageyama uses the base of the tree to do a run up before snatching one of the branches, hoisting himself up with his own upper-body strength. Shouyou watches Kageyama, secretly impressed, as Yamaguchi explains how he ended up on the streets and crossed paths with Tsukishima.
“I’ve been out here about a year. My step-dad was kind of the worst. Mum kept breaking up with him, and then she would get back with him like a week later.”
“That sucks!”
“Yeah, right? Anyway, I ran away, thinking it’d be easy to get picked up by a rogue pack. Turns out—not so easy!”
“Right!”
“But then I met Tsukki about six months ago, so it’s not all bad. I saw him going through some trash and he shared some of his scraps with me.”
“Eh?” Shouyou points at Tsukishima. “You’re telling me he’s capable of kindness?!”
“You don’t even know me,” Tsukishima deadpans.
“I know enough!”
Yamaguchi giggles. “He’s not that bad. He can be nice when he wants to be.”
“Which is probably 0.1% of the time,” Kageyama mutters as he polishes an apple against his tattered shirt.
Tsukishima snorts. “Big words coming from Your Majesty. I’d make a comment about your angry face, but it’s in poor taste for me to be making fun of birth defects.”
Shouyou sways his legs, happily munching on an apple. He pivots the subject before Kageyama has the chance to blow a fuse. “So, Yamaguchi, how come you’ve got a smell? You find cologne in a dumpster or something?”
“Were you dropped as a baby?” Tsukishima asks with unwarranted sincerity.
“Why—why? Why’d you ask that?!”
“It’s his scent, idiot,” Kageyama enlightens him.
“But.” Shouyou blinks and runs his eyes up and down Yamaguchi, as if expecting to find something different about him. He’s just a normal twelve-year-old like the rest of them. “But you have to Present to have a scent, don’t you?”
“Oh, so he does retain knowledge.”
Shouyou ignores that.
Yamaguchi nods patiently. “I Presented about three months ago—a little after I met Tsukki.”
“Woah! But—you’re only twelve!”
Yamaguchi blushes and scratches the back of his head. “I’m an early bloomer, I guess.”
That’s incredible! He’s never met anyone who’s Presented before fourteen! “So what are you?”
“I’m a beta.”
“Cool! I wanna be a beta—or if I’m really, really, super-duper lucky, I want to be an alpha!”
Tsukishima lets out a huge snort at that. “Forget what I just said.”
Surprisingly, Kageyama doesn’t have anything snarky to say to that. He just chews on his apple, staring at Hinata thoughtfully.
*
The chilling whispers of late October warns them of the winter that’s yet to come. It’s a time of the year that sets all the strays on edge, haunted by the thought of braving through another brutal season out in the elements. Not all of them will live through it. Autumn is when they start to get desperate, doing what they can now to compensate for the time lost later.
It’s been a long afternoon of fruitless scavenging, and Tobio and Hinata are tired. So tired, in fact, they don’t notice anything out of the ordinary when they return to their little shanty. At least, not until they pull back the curtain.
Tsukishima is on the floor with a boot pressed against his temple, and Yamaguchi is cowering beneath the figure of a boy holding a knife against his throat.
The four of them have been living together for nearly eight months now. After their encounter at the apple tree in Sea Sparrow Park, all four would meet there almost every day throughout spring. Eventually they decided safety was in numbers, and stuck together. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi were living out of a shanty in an alley made up of scrap metal and rags from the junkyard near the animal shelter; this is where the four of them now live. It’s not the most ideal accommodation, but it beats sitting on the sidewalk in the cold.
“Stop stuttering and spit it out!” the one with the knife yells. “Where’re you keeping your food? I know you’ve got rice somewhere.” He kicks their portable stove and a bunch of boiling water spills over one of their sleeping bags.
They haven’t noticed Tobio and Hinata’s return yet.
Before Tobio can spring into action, a flash of orange moves out the corner of his eye. He watches, stunned, as Hinata springs into the air and kicks the boy with the knife in the back of the head. The boy falls with a cry, and Tobio quickly shakes off his initial shock and pounces on him. He pins him down hard, forcing the knife from his hand with the weight of his knee. Tobio then grabs it and holds it against the boy’s throat. This up close, he gets a better look at the boy’s appearance. There isn’t anything unique about it except for the ugly scar that runs diagonal across his face.
The other one—the one with his foot on Tsukishima’s face—moves to help his companion, but Hinata tackles him with the full force of his body. He’s got scars on his face too. Twin ones that reach from the corners of his mouth straight down to his jawline.
“Get the fuck off me!”
“You can’t tell me what to do! I’m the one who’s got you pinned down!” Tobio snarls, pressing the knife to his jugular.
“Well? Whatchu waitin’ for? Kill me if you’re gonna do it!”
The boy’s got that look in his eyes, that devil-may-care attitude. Like his life isn’t worth a copper coin in the purse of a rich man’s wallet. Tobio trembles. A familiar feeling creeps up on him. A feeling that he hasn’t felt since he left his pack. His heart is pumping in his ears, there’s a terrible twist in his gut, and two forces vie for dominance in his head.
“No please—don’t kill him! Shut the fuck up, Goshiki! What are you even saying!?”
Tobio freezes. It’s the boy’s friend.
“Stay out of it, Shirabu! This guy thinks he’s got stuff—bet he doesn’t even know how to use a knife!”
A single tear of blood seeps from the shallow cut he digs against Goshiki’s neck. In that moment, Tobio feels wild. A sickening pit of satisfaction wells in his stomach at the flicker of fear that crosses the stray’s face. He could do it—just a little more pressure, just one clean strike across the neck—and the kid would be choking on his own fluids.
“Can you take a life, Tobio-chan?”
“Kageyama!” A small hand grips his own, urging him to ease away the pressure of the knife. “Are you insane?!”
Gritting his teeth, Tobio looks up, preparing to shove Hinata away, until he meets the smaller boy’s eyes. They’re blown wide. In the nine months they’ve known each other, he’s never seen Hinata so scared. And he’s scared of him.
In that brief moment of distraction, Goshiki knocks the weight off him and sprints out of their scrap-metal home. Shirabu, who was pinned under Tsukishima once he’d been knocked to the ground, manages to wiggle out of the blonde’s grip and run away after his friend. But it’s almost like Tobio can’t register that they’re gone. The adrenaline is still strong in his veins. He can’t stop shaking, not matter how hard he tries—
Hinata takes his hands into his own. He doesn’t say anything, he just holds them until the trembling stops.
“Hinata …”
“You’re not a monster, Kageyama.” Hinata’s voice is uncharacteristically quiet. He looks down at their hands, refusing to meet Tobio’s eyes. “I won’t let you become one.”
“Tsukki …” They look up to find Yamaguchi checking Tsukishima for wounds. The blonde’s clutching his side, his face taut with pain. It’s only then Tobio realises that blood was already on the knife before he’d snatched it from Goshiki’s hand.
Carefully, Hinata unfurls Tobio’s grip from the knife, and sets it aside. He leaves to take a look at Tsukishima’s wounds. Tobio remains in place, unmoving. He only listens.
“It doesn’t look too deep,” Hinata whispers.
“We’ll need to get medicine. I’ve been meaning to get some for ages but kept putting it off,” Yamaguchi says.
“Kageyama and I will try and find some stuff. We might have to steal from pharmacies, but if we’re careful, we should be able to find gauze and antiseptic no problem.”
“Oh great,” Tsukishima groans. “I have to rely on you two. Isn’t this my lucky day?”
“Jeez, even in pain you’re still an ass.” Hinata laughs, not sounding quite as serious as he was just a moment ago. “Leave it to us, Tsukishima! We’ll have you in tip-top shape in no time!”
“Is this the part where I’m supposed to be grateful?”
“Tsukki! You’re hopeless!”
*
Mist vanishes into the morning air as Yuu lugs another box full of medical supplies from the boot of the car. Small islands of snow collect in gutters and on roofs, and sheens of ice coat the walkways and demand caution. It’s been snowing non-stop the past couple of days—unprecedented for autumn. The news says they’re staring down the barrel of the coldest winter in decades.
Yuu doesn’t know what the hell he was thinking, leaving the house without gloves in this weather! The tips of his fingers are flushed red from the cold. They’re so stiff he reckons they could snap off and he wouldn’t be able to feel a thing.
“Oi!” Ryu’s voice calls from inside the pharmacy. “The old man said to bring in the cold and flu stuff next!”
“Yeah, yeah. I got it!” Yuu calls back.
Asahi emerges from the entrance, folding an empty cardboard box in half.
“Can you believe it? I forgot my gloves again!” Yuu whines as he sidles past the towering alpha.
Concern pinches between Asahi’s eyebrows. “Are you cold? Do you want to borrow mine?”
Yuu snorts, heaving the box onto the counter. “They’ll just slip off and cause an accident.”
“Oh.” Asahi looks down at his hands, then at Yuu’s. “I didn’t even think of that.”
“Ryu, where’s the Stanley knife?”
The bald beta pops his head up from one of the aisles. “It’s not on the counter?”
“Uh—” Yuu looks under a magazine and behind the cigarette display case before shrugging. “Not from what I can see.”
“Might’ve left it in the car. Gimme a sec.”
Ryu weaves around the aisles and shimmies past Asahi, who’s distracted by a bug that’s crawling across the pharmacy ceiling.
“Hey—stop! Get back here!”
Yuu and Asahi turn their heads in time to see Ryu go bolting down the street. They rush out of the store, watching in shock as the beta chases down two stray kids that managed to snatch up one of the boxes from their boot. Yuu immediately gives chase. He doesn’t even look to see if Asahi’s following or not.
“Get back here, ya little shits!” Ryu yells. “I’ll skin the both of ya alive when I cat’cha!”
“Oi! They won’t stop if you threaten them!” Even with his shorter legs, he manages to catch up to Ryu. They’re gaining on the kids fast.
The strays flash out of sight down an alley and Yuu can’t help but grin. Nowhere to run now.
He hears them curse, having realised that they’d just ducked into a dead end. Ryu and Yuu spin around the corner and back the kids further into the alley. The sight of them gives Yuu pause. He doesn’t know why. They’re not the youngest strays he’s come across, but it’s still a shock to the system. One looks tall for his age. He could only be a year or two younger than them, with short black hair and stormy-blue eyes. Instead of fear, he only looks annoyed that he’s been cornered. The other is smaller and skittish, with big brown eyes and a head of bright orange hair. He could be ten or eleven.
Very suddenly, the ginger drops the box of supplies.
“Kageyama, toss me!”
“Idiot! We haven’t had enough practice!”
“Just do it!”
They’re only given a split second to register what they just said before Little Red sprints further into the alley, whips around and runs straight at them. As he speeds past Grumpy, they hook elbows and Little Red propels upwards, knee raised and aiming for the side of Ryu’s head.
It’s fast. But not fast enough.
Ryu brings his forearm up to block the strike and snatches the ginger’s ankle. There’s a vein pulsing on his forehead. “Hey! Are you trying to fucking kill me, kid?! My skull coulda cracked the pavement if I didn’t block ya!”
He yanks at Little Red’s ankle. The kid hits the floor with a shocked cry. The other stray steps forward to punch Ryu square in the face, but Ryu blocks it with his other arm and snatches Grumpy’s wrist. The beta looks like he’s about to pop a blood vessel in his eye.
“You two shits really lookin’ for a fight aren’cha?!” He twists the ankle and wrist he has in both hands at the same time. It’s not enough pressure to cause injury, but it’s enough to have them crumpling pathetically. “Yuu—grab the little one!”
He doesn’t need to be told twice. He wrestles Little Red’s hands behind his back, and Ryu does the same with Grumpy.
It’s at that moment Asahi reaches them, hunched over at the entrance to the alley with his hands on his knees, catching his breath.
“Look alive, Azumane!” Ryu cackles maniacally. “We caught ourselves some live bait! They’ll make good ingredients for our meat pies, eh?”
Little Red stiffens in his grip.
Yuu scoffs. “Are you kidding? They might have enough fat between them to feed a rat!”
Asahi approaches, stopping in front of the strays with his arms crossed over his chest. Fifteen and standing at over six feet, the kids are practically trembling at the sight of Asahi, but to Yuu, Asahi looks like a distressed teddy bear. Even the way his arms are crossed—it’s like he doesn’t know what to do with them!
“Uh—what were you two doing, exactly?” Oh for god’s sake! He doesn’t sound scary at all! What a waste of potential. If he were born into Asahi’s body, he’d have the city on its knees by now!
They don’t answer, predictably. Yuu rolls his eyes and pulls Little Red’s arms tighter. “Oi, why’d you steal the box of medicine? Don’t jerk us around, or we’ll make good on skinning you alive!”
“You don’t scare us!” Grumpy jerks, failing to escape Ryu’s vice-like grip.
“Oh, you better be scared! Or I’ll have the alpha here pluck your eyeballs out!”
Asahi grimaces. “Ryu—”
“Fuckin’ hell, Azumane! Can’t you just play along for once?”
Little Red sniffs, his shoulders shaking. It takes Yuu a moment to realise that the kid is crying. Yuu’s heart doesn’t clench or bleed with sympathy. Nope. Not even slightly. “It’s our friend. He’s sick.”
“Tch—idiot! Don’t cry in front of these people! They can smell weakness!” Ryu has to press Grumpy into the pavement to stop him from squirming.
“Go on,” Yuu prompts patiently.
“He was stabbed—we were attacked by two boys we’ve never met and they had a knife. It wasn’t deep but he needs antiseptic and bandages but we can’t find any. We tried going into some stores but we were chased out before we even had the chance to grab anything. And he’s gotten sick. The wound—it’s infected. He has a fever and—”
“Okay, okay. I get it. Your friend’s in bad shape.”
Yuu looks at Asahi, then at Ryu, trying to get a feel for what’s going on in their heads. They’re both painfully predictable. Asahi stares right back at him, at a loss; Ryu’s giving him that look he gives right before he’s about to give in to his own bleeding heart.
Yuu glares. “No. Absolutely not. These brats don’t deserve our help. They stole from us! A single one of these boxes would cost us an entire pay check!”
But his fellow beta doesn’t look like he’s backing down this time. “We were strays once. What would you have done if I was dying of an infection and you had no money to buy me medicine?”
“Why’re you turnin’ soft? This one almost gave you a round house to an early grave.” Yuu digs his elbow into Little Red’s back and he whimpers. “Besides, I bet this one’s putting on an act. They probably wanted to sell the medicine for money.”
“Yuu—” Asahi’s voice is all gentle and pleading.
“Nope! Don’t you dare do this to me, Asahi! I swear to god!”
Asahi just sighs, walking around them to pick up the forgotten box of supplies Little Red dropped. “I’m going to finish up at the pharmacy and collect our pay checks. You and Ryuunosuke figure out whatever—they’re your problem.”
“Some alpha you are!” Yuu yells at Asahi’s retreating back, but the giant of a boy just looks over at him like he has bigger anxieties to deal with. And he probably does—but that’s beside the point.
Still, leaving them with this mess is only a hair’s short of cruel.
“Kid,” Ryu addresses the raven-haired stray. “I’m going to let go of you, yeah? And when I do, you won’t attack me or my packmate, alright?”
For the first time since he was tackled, Grumpy stills underneath Ryu. He slowly nods his head.
“Okay—and no sudden movements!”
As promised, Ryu eases off the kid and backs away. The younger boy immediately jumps to his feet, eyes wild, darting between Yuu and Ryu like he’s ready for a fight. Half a minute of tension passes before the kid finally relaxes, backing up towards the alley’s only exit.
“Will you let us go?” the taller stray asks tensely.
“Hold on now—we’re willing to let the stealing slide—”
“I’m not!” Yuu growls. Ryu ignores him.
“—but I want you to take us to your friend. Maybe we can help him?”
The strays share a glance.
Ryu adds: “The two of you are out of options. Are you really so stubborn that you’d let your friend die instead of accepting a little help?”
“Don’t act like we’re buddies!” Grumpy snaps. His fists are clenched at his sides. He has a look in his eye that Yuu is all too familiar with. It’s that welling of powerlessness seeping into the pit of your bones when you know you’ve got no other options. “You could be thieves yourselves! Or—or murderers, or pimps—we have no reason to trust either of you!”
“Listen, kid—”
“I’ll take you to him.” All eyes land on Little Red, who’s staring down at his shoes.
“Hina—”
“Don’t.” Little Red’s voice is so soft, but Grumpy flinches like he’s just been snarled at. “He’s—he won’t make it … If we keep doing what we’re doing he—he’ll die, Kageyama.”
“If they hurt him—”
Little Red looks up, meeting his friend’s glare. “I’ll take responsibility. It’ll be on me.”
“You vouch for them?”
“I do.”
Grumpy scoffs and shrugs his shoulders. “Fine. It’s on your head, dumbass.”
Yuu shoots Asahi a quick text to tell him what they’re doing as they leave the alley, Little Red taking the lead.
“So, what’s your names?” Ryu makes small talk. He can’t believe Ryu’s even bothering with these brats!
“None of your—”
“My names Hinata Shouyou.” Little Red grins over his shoulder, all evidence of seriousness gone. “And grumpy-pants here is Kageyama Tobio!”
Ryu puffs out his chest. “Well I’m Tanaka Ryuunosuke, and this is Nishinoya Yuu—we’re both betas!”
“Woah! That’s so awesome!”
The bald beta nudges him. “Hear that? The kid thinks we’re cool!”
Yuu squares his shoulders proudly. “As he should!”
Kageyama rolls his eyes. “You guys are weird.”
“Bakageyama! Don’t be rude to them! They’re helping us!”
Hinata and Kageyama bicker for quite a few blocks. It gets to the point where Yuu wonders where they even find the energy; they look like one strong breeze away from being blown halfway across the city. He wishes they’d stop. Not because he finds it annoying, but because the more they talk the more he finds himself endeared to them. These random strays who have no business associating with them.
“What are you smiling about?”
Ryu looks at him, big goofy grin gleaming in the autumn sun. “Reminds me of us back in the day.”
Yuu punches Ryu in the arm as he fights down his own smile.
I am not endeared. I am not endeared—
But he’s staring at the back of Hinata’s and Kageyama’s heads, and the sight is strikingly similar—just a few small changes to hair and skin tone and it’s like he’s looking into a mirror of their pasts. They never argued so much as they hotly debated, and Ryu never hovered around him quite in the way Kageyama does with Hinata, but now that the beta has pointed it out to him, he can’t unsee it.
Bastard.
The shanty Hinata leads them to is three walls of tin crudely fixed together, with a rusty roof and a large blanket used as a curtain in place of a door. He almost can’t stand to look it. It reminds him too much of how shitty their lives used to be.
“Why’re you crying, Yuu?”
“Why aren’t you crying? Doesn’t your stomach hurt too?”
“Well there’s no food tonight but hey—let’s pretend! I’m thinking of a big, greasy cheeseburger—”
Hinata pulls back the curtain. “Yamaguchi?”
“Why are you whispering, idiot?”
“Because Tsukishima might be sleeping!”
The inside of the shanty is about what you’d expect. Dirty sleeping bags scatter the concrete floor, there’s a garbage bag in the corner and a portable stove unlit next to it. There’s a cluster of water bottles and rolls of toilet paper gathered to one side like a pile of treasures to be kept safe.
A boy with freckles is kneeling next to a boy with blonde hair, pressing a damp rag against his forehead. He’s a beta, just like them.
Hinata wasn’t kidding. The blonde is lying on his back in a sleeping bag, drenched in sweat, a small crease between his eyes and agony clenching his jaw. There’s bruising around his temple and cheek, and a tiny gash above his eyebrow that’s scabbed over.
“Who—who are these guys?”
“Yamaguchi, this is Nishinoya and Tanaka. They’ve offered to help us.” Hinata kneels beside Yamaguchi with a reassuring smile. “Has anything changed while we were gone?”
“Just—same,” Yamaguchi replies helplessly. He turns to Yuu and Ryu, desperation in his eyes, and bows over until his forehead is touching the floor. “M-My name is Yamaguchi Tadashi. Please—please help my friend. He’s hurt and he’s not getting better!”
Yamaguchi’s plea is the straw that breaks the camel’s back.
They check over the sick stray briefly, but it only takes them a couple of minutes before they make an executive decision that will change the dynamic of their humble pack forever.
Chapter 2: The Crow's Nest
Chapter Text
Tadashi can’t feel the tips of his fingers.
They’re wedged into a rusty old bomb with an exhaust pipe that sounds one kilometre shy of choking out its own engine. Normally Tadashi would feel uncomfortable getting into a car with strangers, but his entire focus has warped itself around Tsukki’s wellbeing to the point where he’s beyond caring. The boisterous betas Hinata and Kageyama brought to help continue bantering in the front seats. Nishinoya, the shortest of the two, drives while on the lap of a flustered alpha named—what was it—Azumane? He doesn’t know how the alpha fits into all this, but apparently he’s with Tanaka and Nishinoya.
Tsukki lays over three laps in the back seat. Well, he’s laid out as best he can. His legs are slightly bent because he’s too tall.
Nishinoya runs over something and their heads hit the roof of the car.
“Sorry!” the beta yells, his grin anything but apologetic. “These roads aren’t the best, y’know?”
“You shoulda let me drive,” Tanaka groans, rubbing the sore spot on his head. “I’m a much better driver than you are—Azumane agrees with me, don’cha?”
“You’re both terrible.” Azumane is green in the face, clutching the ceiling handle for dear life.
“Ah, who cares what you think? You don’t even have your license.” Nishinoya bounces in Azumane’s lap and Tadashi is beginning to think he might be running over things on purpose.
“Neither do you.”
“Don’t you mean: ‘Neither do Yuu’!” Tanaka cackles. Nishinoya reaches over to punch him in the arm, but Tanaka only laughs harder.
“Hinata,” Kageyama hisses at the ginger squashed between them. “What the hell have you gotten us into?”
But Hinata is the wrong person to ask. A massive grin splits his little face as he stares at the older teens. He looks as if he’s just met his idols. “They’re so awesome!”
Tsukki groans. Tadashi places a hand on his forehead, his eyebrows pinched with concern. “We’re not far now, Tsukki. We’re getting you the help you need.”
“If I die ‘cuz of that idiot, I swear I’ll haunt him for the rest of his life.”
Tadashi rolls his eyes and smiles. Tsukki has been struggling to breath all morning and hasn’t had the strength to eat a full meal in days, but he somehow still finds the energy to slip in an insult.
Hope swells in Tadashi’s chest.
Nishinoya parks the car once they’ve reached their destination. Tadashi looks around curiously, but he sees much of the same streets he’s always known.
“It’s your time to shine, Asahi!” Nishinoya jumps out of the car (Tadashi just realises he wasn’t wearing a seatbelt), and Tanaka almost gets hit by a screeching hatchback as he rounds the bomb to help with Tsukki.
“Watch your drivin’ ya fucking donkey!” Tanaka yells, his voice carrying down the street. “Oh—hey Shimizu!”
An older woman (maybe twenty at the most) leans against the wall outside a concrete block of apartments. Dark hair tumbles in waves of silk over her shoulder, and there isn’t a blemish on her porcelain complexion save for the beauty mark below her glossy bottom lip. She gives a dismissive wave in their general direction, but seems more focused on her phone.
“Isn’t she pretty?” Tanaka asks Tadashi as he throws Tsukki’s arm over his shoulder.
“Uh—yeah?”
Nishinoya leads them down the alley next to the apartment block. It’s not the worst-smelling, as far as alleys in Lower Tokyo go. The garbage and mysterious fluids you’d also usually find are refreshingly absent. They pass a small window with iron bars fixed over it, and stop at a pale-yellow door chipping at the corners, a rusted ‘8’ nailed to the front. It’s next to a chain link fence that splits the alley in two.
Looking up, Tadashi sees a flurry of clothes hanging from apartment windows above their heads. The distant cries of a baby echo through the complex, the muted yells of a couple fighting, the sounds of televisions and the hum of heaters mix into a symphonic noise that encompasses the urban landscape.
“During summer we play handball in this alley. Pretty sweet, huh?” Nishinoya inserts his key and unlocks the deadbolt.
Hinata is practically vibrating with excitement. “Are you good?”
“You bet your ass I am!”
“Aw man, I wanna play!”
“I am on the verge of death,” Tsukki reminds them dramatically.
“Oh—sorry.”
The apartment is quaint. There’s a small space with a fold-out low table. A tiny kitchen is to the right, with a sink, a washing machine, a stove, two countertops and a noisy fridge with a bunch of letter magnets and takeout menus tacked onto it. A pile of folded linen and towels are stacked beside it. Past that, Tadashi spies two adjacent doors, one leading to a bathroom and the other to a toilet. Nishinoya pulls back shoji double doors to reveal another room next to the sitting area. The floor is covered by a tatami mat, and a mountain of folded futons, pillows and blankets sit to one side of the room. There are other sliding doors he assumes are closets.
Nishinoya heaves a futon from the top of the pile and they lay Tsukki down carefully.
The blonde groans.
“Are you in pain?” Tadashi leans over him, hand hovering from the wound in his side.
“No, just glad I’m not lying on concrete anymore.”
Tanaka laughs. “Boy do I know that feeling.”
Azumane kneels beside Tsukki, lifting his shirt to inspect the injury. “Yuu, get the first-aid kit, will you? Oh, and a bowl of water and a clean cloth.”
“Is it—is it bad?” Tadashi sits down next to Azumane, never once looking away from Tsukki’s face.
Azumane gives him a reassuring smile. “If it festered for a few more days, Tsukishima would be beyond saving.”
“Oh, splendid,” Tsukki remarks with false optimism.
“But the good news is: you brought him to me before that could happen. He’s not out of the woods yet, but he’ll recover if we act fast.”
Nishinoya comes back with the items Azumane requested and then clears the room. “Let Asahi work his magic, will ya? Monks got nothin’ on his healing powers! Oi Ryu—crank up the heat, my hands are about to fall off!”
“Can I—can I stay?” Tadashi looks at Azumane pleadingly. “I don’t want to leave him just yet.”
“Yamaguchi, I’ll be fine.”
Asahi smiles. “For a little bit, but once I’m done cleaning the wound, he’ll need to rest.”
Tadashi is quiet as he watches Azumane clear out the pus surrounding the injury. He’s a little taken aback by the calming aura the alpha exudes. It’s difficult to explain. Things like scents and pheromones are still new to him, and it’s not like he’s hung around many Presented people since he escaped. But there’s a gentleness in the way Azumane carries himself, with every movement careful and deliberate. It’s not something you would expect from a six-foot-something teenage alpha, with hands better suited for destroying than nurturing. Still, Azumane makes it work. Somehow.
“You’d make a good doctor,” Tadashi blurts out, and immediately turns a tomato red.
Azumane smiles kindly. “You think so? It’s funny you should say that. It’s my dream to be a nurse.”
He blinks. “Ah, r-really?”
I definitely wasn’t expecting that.
The alpha rubs the back of his neck shyly. “It’s weird, right? For an alpha, I mean—most nurses are betas or omegas.”
“No! I think you’d make a great nurse!”
“You think so?”
“Y-Yeah!”
Azumane blushes, pulling a strand of long brown hair out of his face. “I’ll try my best.”
After giving Tsukki some general antibiotics, they leave him to rest. Back in the sitting area, Tadashi is surprised to find a staircase has appeared from the ceiling to the left.
“There’s another room?”
“Oh, yeah. Those stairs pulldown.”
Hinata’s head pops out from the top of the stairs. “Yamaguchi! You’ve gotta see this! They have a TV!”
“Say it a little louder for the neighbours, idiot!” He hears Kageyama shout.
“How’s Tsukishima?”
Tadashi sighs. “Stable, I guess. For now.”
“That reminds me, I better make an appointment ASAP. He needs proper proscribed medication.” Azumane pulls out his phone.
Upstairs is equally as tiny as the rest of the apartment (save for the bedroom). There’s a couch, an armchair, a coffee table, a nightstand, a 24-inch antique television, and a bookcase filled to the brim with books that look like they’ve long since been out of publication. The betas take the couch, practically lying on top of each other to monopolize as much space as possible; Kageyama sits on the armchair, and Hinata is on the floor with his arms folded over the coffee table.
It all looks so … domestic. Like Hinata has lived here his whole life. Kageyama is still his own uncomfortable self. Very on-brand.
Hinata pats the floor. “Come on, Yamaguchi! There’s a station that runs cartoons 24/7! How amazing is that?”
Tadashi can’t help but smile.
They watch TV for almost an hour. It’s been so long since he’s sat in a lounge room watching cartoons. On the streets it’s one of the things he misses the most from home. But he can’t quite enjoy it as much as he wants to. His mind keeps drifting back to Tsukki sleeping downstairs. Every ten minutes he checks the clock hanging on the wall above the bookcase, wondering when will be the appropriate time to go check on him.
At some point Azumane brings them biscuits and glasses of lemonade. “I made the appointment.” Nishinoya and Tanaka sit properly to make room for the alpha on the couch. “I’ll be taking Tsukishima to see Dr Masuda tomorrow morning.”
“Th-Thank you!” The weight on Tadashi’s chest eases just a little.
“Why are you being so nice to us?” Kageyama frowns. “What do you have to gain?”
“Bakageyama! Don’t be so rude!”
Azumane tilts his head in thought. “Gain? We don’t gain anything. But turning a blind eye to somebody in need—well, we’d at least lose something, wouldn’t we?”
“Lose what?” Kageyama presses. It’s like he’s expecting the strangers to pull out knives at any moment and rob them. Tadashi shifts with discomfort.
“Well—our humanity.”
The three strays stare at Azumane. Nishinoya snorts and punches the alpha in the arm. “That’s so corny! You’re such a sap!”
“O-Oh. Was that too much?” The alpha chuckles nervously.
But Tadashi doesn’t think it’s too much. And he doesn’t think Hinata or Kageyama think it is either. On the streets, humanity is a concept rarely seen in practice. It feels like there’s no room for such a thing when you’re wondering where your next meal is coming from.
The sound of the door opening downstairs has Tadashi panicking. Could it be an intruder? Tsukki is all alone down there!
But then a voice calls out, warm and sweet: “I’m home!”
Nishinoya and Tanaka practically leap over the coffee table to get to the stairs.
“Sugawara!”
“Suga-san!”
Watching the two boys stumble down the stairs, Tadashi is struck by how familiar their behaviour is. It reminds him of how excited he used to get when his mother came home from work.
“There are other people who live here?” Hinata perks up. Meeting new people and befriending them is like a hobby for the ginger.
Azumane nods. “There’s two other members of the pack: Koushi and Daichi. They’re the ones that run the show, so they’re always out and about.”
“Why do you two look so guilty, eh? You didn’t break the TV again, did you? Whatever, help me with these groceries!” Sugawara’s voice carries upstairs. Again, Tadashi’s reminded of his mother.
“We—uh, kind of have a surprise?” Tanaka says lamely.
“Surprise? What are you—” He hears the sound of a door sliding, then there’s a beat of silence. “Why is there a stray in our bedroom?”
“I think that’s your cue to go introduce yourselves.” Azumane laughs, getting up and herding the younger boys downstairs.
“We can explain!” Nishinoya stresses. “We were doing an errand for Old Man Yamasaki—”
“Who totally lowered his rates from last time by the way—” Tanaka cuts in.
“—and then these strays came out of nowhere and stole one of our boxes—”
“And since I’m awesome, I chased—”
“We chased—”
“Then I got them cornered in an alley and—”
“They tried attacking Ryu and—”
“But I blocked their attacks easily—”
The betas are still rambling by the time the three of them (plus Azumane) make it to the bottom of the staircase. An omega stands by the door to the bedroom. He’s slim, medium-height, with silver hair and big brown eyes that remind Tadashi of Hinata. He also has a beauty mark that sits under his left eye.
Tadashi’s heart stutters. Too much like mum.
Sugawara has long stopped listening to Tanaka and Nishinoya. His attention is glued to the children standing behind them. There aren’t any hints of severity or judgement in his stare. Like Azumane, his expression is brimming with empathy and care.
“You boys look like you haven’t eaten in weeks,” is the first thing Sugawara says to them. Tanaka and Nishinoya immediately shut up. “How about you sit at the table and I whip you up a light afternoon snack?”
His full name is Sugawara Koushi. He’s eighteen and a kindergarten teacher’s assistant for an early learning centre in Middle Tokyo. Sugawara met Sawamura Daichi (the pack’s leader) in high school and they’ve been together ever since. He tells them all this as he’s milling around the kitchen. “Hope you don’t mind salmon filling in your onigiri. I forgot to get tuna from the store!”
“Salmon sounds delicious!” Hinata beams. Sugawara’s foot falters for a moment, the ginger’s enthusiasm catching him off guard. Then Sugawara’s face softens into a smile.
“Good!”
Nishinoya and Azumane help prepare while Tanaka sets the table. It’s all done wordlessly. It’s as if the pack is completely in sync.
So this is how a real pack functions, huh?
A large plate full of onigiri is placed in the centre of the table alongside a jug of water. Sugawara puts four aside and wraps them in a sheet of plastic, tossing Tadashi a wink. “I’ll save these for when your friend wakes up.”
They all sit together knee to knee around the table. Hinata wolfs down two before Tadashi has even finished half his first one, and Kageyama (interpreting this as a challenge), starts matching Hinata one for one.
“Guys, cut it out!” Stress builds in Tadashi’s shoulders. He really doesn’t want to offend these nice people.
“It’s OK.” Sugawara waves it off. “We’ve all been there at some point. When I met these two, they were skin and bone! I could see poor Nishinoya’s ribcage!”
Tanaka and Nishinoya look self-pitying. “Long we have suffered!”
“Oh what a cruel world!”
“Sugawara-san, what’s that on your wrist?” Tadashi peers across the table.
“Oh this?” The omega shows off his wrist. It’s a tattoo of a tiny black bird in mid-flight. “It’s a crow!”
“A … crow?”
“Yeah, we’ve all got one! Check it out!” Tanaka pulls the sleeve of his sweater up past his elbow and flexes. A similar-looking tattoo sits on the bulge of his bicep. Nishinoya pulls down his sock and reveals one on his ankle, and Azumane timidly reveals one behind his ear.
“Our pack name is ‘Karasuno’,” Sugawara explains. “Hence the matching crow tattoos.”
Hinata is ecstatic. “That’s so cool! You guys are like, the coolest pack I’ve ever met!” he squeals.
“They’re the only pack you’ve ever met,” Kageyama mutters so quietly that only Tadashi catches it.
Nishinoya and Tanaka are very pleased with themselves, puffing out their chests the more compliments Hinata showers them in.
“Where’s your leader?” Tadashi continues the conversation with Sugawara, intent on ignoring the commotion Hinata stirs up by simply existing.
“Across the street.”
“What’s across the street?” He prays to god that it isn’t a drug den.
“Daichi owns and runs a dojo there. He probably won’t be finished with classes until quite late.”
The tension in his shoulders slackens. Phew. Not a drug den. “A dojo? What does he teach?”
“Karate.”
“But …” Tadashi presses his lips in confusion. “Is he your age? Eighteen?”
“That’s correct,” Sugawara replies kindly.
Their conversation is overheard by the others, who feel no qualms butting in.
“Our leader is the biggest badass this side of San Tokyo! And we’re his top motherfucking students!” Tanaka exclaims.
“Hell yeah! Daichi’s the youngest karate Grandmaster in the whole damn prefecture!” Nishinoya yells. Azumane stuffs a piece of onigiri in the beta’s mouth, making him choke.
Hinata turns to look up at Sugawara, so much awe in his eyes that they look ready to pop out of his skull. “Really? Is that true?
“Yep!”
“Woah! That’s so baaaaah—like bwaaaaa!”
Sugawara blinks. “Um, yes?”
“Words aren’t Hinata’s forte.”
“Shut up, Bakageyama! I don’t see you winning any spelling bees!”
*
“Um, so don’t be mad.”
Daichi is in the middle of taking off his shoes. He stops to stare at Koushi, who looks like he’s been standing at the door waiting for his return. Which, while sweet, immediately raises suspicion.
“Right off the bat, telling me not to be mad at something before telling me something that gives me reason to be mad won’t work.” Daichi smiles and pecks his boyfriend on the lips before moving to slide on some indoor slippers.
“Haha yeah.” The omega fiddles with the hem of his pyjama shirt.
The apartment is quiet, save for the constant brrrrr of the refrigerator, but he finds that’s the case most weekends. Asahi, Yuu and Ryuunosuke tucker themselves out either through work or play, and Koushi spends his Saturdays and Sundays catching up on errands he didn’t have time for during the week. In Daichi’s case, classes run particularly late on Saturdays. Adults that can’t make it on weekdays compensate on their days off, most even taking classes back-to-back just to keep up. When evening rolls around, their pack wants nothing more than to curl into each other and watch a movie.
The TV is on upstairs, but the volume is low. “The kids upstairs?”
“About that.” Koushi is still hesitating to spit it out.
“Hey—” Daichi wraps an arm around his boyfriend, pressing their foreheads together “—you shouldn’t be so nervous around me. Whatever it is, I can take it. You know that.”
“I may have adopted four children.”
Daichi pulls back. Koushi looks him straight in the eye. It’s not a joke.
Slowly, he asks, “Can I meet them?”
“You’re not mad?”
“That depends—are they cute?”
Koushi laughs, and Daichi almost forgives the omega right then and there. He pecks Daichi on the corner of the mouth. “The cutest.”
He’s led upstairs to find everyone dozing off, the TV illuminating their slack faces. Asahi, Yuu and Ryuunosuke are a mess of limbs on the couch, with a younger boy on the floor with his cheek resting against Asahi’s knee. On the armchair are two more boys he doesn’t know, the smaller boy coiled in the lap of the bigger one.
Koushi turns on the light and the spell of adorableness dies in an instant. The kid sitting on the armchair rockets to his feet, causing the boy in his lap to hit the floor with a cry (“Why’d you drop me, asshole!” “It wasn’t me, it was gravity, dumbass.”); Asahi snorts and wipes a trail of drool from the corner of his mouth (“Eh? Is mornin’ a’ready?”); and Yuu and Ryuunosuke collectively groan and yell profanities (“Why’d I have to wake up? I was having the best fucking dream. Shimizu accepted my proposal—” “Your dream, her nightmare.” “Shut the fuck up you piece of—”).
“Not in front of the kids,” Koushi growls.
The boys in question are coaxed into a line in front of Daichi. They introduce themselves sleepily one by one, rubbing their faces or patting down their hair. It’s immediately apparent why Koushi is so taken by them.
“The other one’s asleep downstairs. He’s sick, so Asahi offered to take him to the doctor’s tomorrow.”
Daichi nods his head. “Remind me to give him the credit card before he leaves.”
“So?” Everyone’s looking at him with hopeful smiles. Koushi has his hands on the shoulders of the smallest, cutest one of the kids. “Does that mean they can stay?”
Daichi gulps, fighting down a grin. “Seems you all collectively made that decision on my behalf.”
Yuu rolls his eyes. “Yes, but it’s not official until our leader gives the green light.”
He sighs, trying to sound reluctant, but on the inside he’s excited. “We’ll have to look into school enrolments first thing tomorrow.”
There’s a bright spark of joy that passes over their faces, right before all three kids burst into tears.
“W-What? Did I say something wrong? I-I know school can be tough at times, but i-it’s important to get an education!”
His packmates look at a loss before Hinata throws himself at Daichi, arms clinging to his sides and holding on for dear life.
“Thank you!” he sobs. “Thank you so, so much!”
Tears fall on top of the boy’s orange curls, and it takes a moment for Daichi to realise that he’s crying too.
*
“I might as well take advantage of my day off and go shopping. Ne, Kageyama, Hinata? We can go buy futons and new clothes. The two of you probably want to have your own beds now, yeah?”
Daichi peeks at his boyfriend out the corner of his eye as he ties his shoelaces. The omega is chopping carrots for tonight’s stew. While his tone is its regular bright and cheery, Daichi can’t help but notice the bags under Koushi’s eyes. He’d gotten up multiple times throughout the night to check Tsukishima’s temperature, and even in his futon he couldn’t seem to lie still.
Sometimes, his boyfriend can be really hopeless. Koushi hasn’t so much as had a proper conversation with the blonde boy, yet he frets like a mother over a newborn.
The betas, Ryuunosuke and Yuu, snuck out of the apartment at daybreak for another one-off job they had lined up, while Asahi (along with Yamaguchi) left to take Tsukishima to the doctors about half an hour ago. Once Daichi organised an appointment with Kawagashi Middle School administration, he knew that the next step would be to head on over to Management to sort out the rest.
“I’m out of cash.” Daichi frowns down at his wallet. It wouldn’t have been a problem, only—Asahi has his credit card. “Do you have any loose change?”
Koushi checks his wallet and makes an excited noise, pulling out a 5000 yen note. “I forgot I had this!”
He opens the overhead cabinet and procures their savings jar. As of now it’s about halfway full of paper cash. Beaming with pride, Koushi drops the note inside before screwing on the lid and placing it back where it belongs.
“At this rate we could put all three of them through university!”
“Woah, I’ve never seen so much money before!” Hinata gets up on his tippy toes, trying to get a better look at the jar.
“It’s for Asahi, Yuu and Ryu.”
“For university?”
“Yes.”
“Wow!”
“Why do you have to pay to put them through university?” Daichi glances over at Kageyama, who’s sitting at the table thumbing the rim of his glass of milk. “Aren’t those costs covered by The Don?”
The oldest boys share a look. Koushi puts on a smile and asks gently, “Do you know how the tier system works, Kageyama?”
“I know there’s a hierarchy.”
Koushi nods. “There are three Dons in San Tokyo. Since we live in South Side, we adhere to the rule of Don Ushijima and his pack. Since our pack is relatively small and inconsequential, our favour with the Don is non-existent.”
“We are what the upper echelon might call a ‘third-tier rank’, which is the lowest distinction of a rogue pack,” Daichi provides, standing up and reaching for his bag. “Oh—any coins?”
The omega blinks. “Oh right! I got distracted.”
Koushi digs through his wallet and manages to scavenge 1100 yen in coins. It should be enough for the admin fee, Daichi reasons.
“Alright, I’m off.” He pecks his boyfriend on the cheek and waves goodbye to their new packmates. “I should be back by noon.”
“We might still be out, but Asahi and the others should be back by then.”
“Alright. Take the car, stay with the crowds, don’t talk to weirdos—you know the drill.”
Koushi salutes him. “Yes, leader!”
Management is a building that has the visage of an official government building without actually having any affiliation with the government. The main reception is located in a side-street that splinters off from the South Side shopping district in Middle Tokyo, but has stairs and elevators that climb all the way to Upper Tokyo.
Heavily tinted glass doors close automatically behind him. The red carpet with brown and yellow geometric patterns welcomes Daichi in from the chill of autumn, directing him into the main foyer. Gentle jazz plays from the overhead speakers as he makes a direct line for the reception desk. A beta files her nails behind the protection of bulletproof glass. Sunday’s inactivity has bored her to the point of indifference. Daichi can’t blame her. He might be the first person to visit her today.
“Sawamura-san,” Misaki Hana greets, her voice slightly distorted by the bulletproof glass. “How can I help you this morning?”
“I’m here to fill out an Accession Request Form please.”
Hana rolls her chair over to an assortment of paper stacks that have been neatly categorized on stands. She plucks a piece of paper from one of the piles like it’s muscle memory, hesitates, then plucks another paper from a different pile.
She rolls her way back to her desk and slides the papers through the tiny gap in the glass. “I’ve also added a routine Omega Wellbeing Form that you should complete as well.”
Daichi slides that one back towards her. “I assure you, no changes have occurred to Koushi in the last six months since the last Wellbeing Form I filled out.”
The receptionist gives him her best customer service smile. “Yes, but protocol dictates—”
“Trust me, if there are any changes, I’ll have our doctor send through the documents to you directly.”
Blinking, Hana reluctantly takes back the form. “As you wish.”
Daichi drifts over to one of the tables and plucks up a pen that has a string of beads attached to the end of it. Hana goes back to filing her nails.
An internal relief washes over him. There’s nothing around but jazz music and solitude for company. Coming here on a Sunday was a stroke of luck he hadn’t known he’d needed. It’s at Management where he’s most likely to run into packs from other tiers. Founding his own rogue pack alongside Koushi was one of his most rewarding achievements. He doesn’t regret the decision even for a second; but it does come with some drawbacks.
Namely, the bureaucracy and politics of the rogue underworld.
The Dons run the show. Since the congregation of rogue packs is illegal, rogue packs must pledge their allegiance (along with 20% of their household income) to the Don that runs their territory in exchange for immunity. The subsidy is often used to bribe cops and politicians from causing them any trouble. It should be a win-win situation, but the illegality of rogue packs makes every one of them at the absolute mercy of their Don.
He unfolds a piece of paper he has tucked in his pocket and copies the details onto the form.
“Let’s see uh—Name: Tsukishima Kei; 1st Gender: Male; 2nd Gender: Unpresented; Date of Birth: September 25th—”
“—why Semisemi would say something so hurtful! Honestly—saying that I make omegas run screaming for the hills is uncalled for. Who wouldn’t want to date a guy like me? I’m one of a kind!”
Daichi tenses at the voice that bounces across the foyer.
“You’re definitely one of a kind. I don’t think anyone’s going to deny that.”
To his horror, he sees two people coming down the grand bifurcated staircase next to the reception desk. He hunches over his paperwork, praying they don’t notice him.
“Guess he’s just being cocky. Omegas love him. You know, the other day we were walking through Summerset Boutique and I kept asking him to buy me a hot chocolate—you know, because it was cold and my throat was parched—anyway, guess who we run into at the Dry-Ice Café? Fucking Sakamoto Sakura! There she was, looking straight out of last season’s Cherry Boulevard, smellin’ like roasted fucking marshmallows—anyway, we’re standing in line and I’m freaking out because I saw her the moment we walked in, but Semisemi hasn’t noticed her. And then—! We lock eyes! She gets up and walks over to us—and she walks just like she does in Cherry Boulevard, you know, with that cute little sashay—anyway, I’m standing there thinking: ‘this is it’, you know? She’s gonna ask me out, we’re gonna fall madly in love, we’re gonna get married, she’s gonna have my babies, and life will finally be worth living, and—and then! Get this right—she taps Semisemi on the shoulder and gives him her number!”
“Oh, so they’re dating now?”
“Well here’s kicker: he threw her number in the trash! The audacity!”
“What—right in front of her?”
“Nah, he’s not Waka-chan. He just threw it out on our way—ah! Well, well, well, well! Who’ve we got here, ey?”
Daichi’s pen stills. Shit.
A hand clamps down on his shoulder, making him flinch. “Wah! If it isn’t Grandmaster Sawamura Daichi!”
He spins around and bows. “G-Good morning Oohira, Tendou!”
“It’s been a while,” Oohira greets coolly. “You’re looking well, Sawamura.”
“Thanks!” He still doesn’t lift his head.
“Hmmmm? Whatcha doin’?” Tendou peers over him. “An Accession Request eh? How interesting!”
Before Daichi can react, the redheaded alpha snatches up the paper for a better look. “Oh ho! Four little ones! You and Kou-chan have been very busy!”
“They’re strays.”
“How cute! When do I get to meet them?”
Daichi tenses. Tendou bursts out laughing and slaps him over the shoulder. “Just kidding, just kidding! No need to make that face! Anyway, since I’m in a good mood I’ll fast-track that request form for you—free of charge of course!”
“You really don’t have to …” The quaint emptiness of Management has officially backfired. There’s no one else around to save him now.
“But I insist, Grandmaster-san!”
“‘Daichi’ is fine—”
“I’ll send some guys over for an Identity Verification Check sometime in the next week. Ahhhh! I can’t wait to look over their profiles!”
“Satori, you don’t work on the approval board.”
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m not curious. Anyway, I’m sure Grandmaster here will shape these kids up to be lean mean fighting machines, yeah?”
Daichi wants to hide in his scarf. “Yeah.”
“Great! See you around, Grandmaster-san!”
Daichi watches the redhead speak briefly with the receptionist, gesture in his direction, and then saunter out the glass doors with Oohira in tow.
When he’s finished, he hands over the form to Hana along with the admin fee and leaves immediately. It’s only when the frigid air assaults his skin that he realises he’s sweating profusely.
*
Everyone is sound asleep and Shouyou is anxious.
Tanaka’s snores and Azumane’s heavy breathing crowd the silence. At some point Nishinoya kicked off his comforter and spread himself out like a starfish. Tsukishima’s futon is next to Sugawara’s and Sawamura’s, his breathing more stable than it was the night before. Yamaguchi is next to him, completely still.
Shouyou jerks onto his side. The plush of his bottom lip stings from being bitten raw.
It was so, so nice of Sugawara to get them their own futons—really, it was, and Shouyou is grateful. It’s just—it’s just—!
Shouyou rubs his nose with the palm of his hand. Then he huffs and turns onto his back.
It’s nothing like it was before, when it was just the four of them squashed together like packed jellybeans. You couldn’t change position without accidently elbowing someone in the face. There’s so much space here. Shouyou could roll around all he likes and he wouldn’t hit anybody. He could follow Nishinoya’s example—spread himself out like a starfish and take up every square inch possible—and still wouldn’t be touching the pack sleeping around him.
It’s also really nice to have a proper pillow and blanket again. The sleeping bags, while they kept them warm, didn’t do much to cushion them from the hard concrete. But then, before he had the sleeping bag, he had to cuddle Kageyama for warmth, and before Kageyama—
Shouyou’s fingers dig into his comforter.
The drum of his heart throbs in his throat.
Oh god, don’t take me back there—
“Oi, dumbass.” Shouyou rolls over. Kageyama is glaring at him through the dark. “Will you stop moving? I can’t think.”
“What are you thinking about?”
“Stuff.”
“What kind of stuff?”
“Just—go to sleep!”
Shouyou pouts. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I …” He gulps and squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t like sleeping alone.”
“You’re not alone. Look around you.”
“N-No, I mean. Like.” He exhales in frustration. “Do you remember the first night we spent together?”
“I remember it was raining—and cold.”
“Yeah, well …” Heat floods the tips of his ears. “Y-You remember how we huddled for warmth?”
Silence follows.
“Kageyama?”
“Yeah, I remember.”
Shouyou sighs with relief. “I’d never cuddled with anyone before. None of my foster parents hugged me, and my relationship with my foster siblings weren’t like that either. And even though it was raining, and even though it was cold, when it was just you and me—I’d never felt safe like that before. So I told myself: ‘Shouyou, you’re never sleeping alone ever again. You should always have someone to cuddle with no matter what!’”
Shouyou knows what he’s saying is childish and stupid—and he expects Kageyama to say as much. But Kageyama doesn’t say anything. It was a mistake to open up to him. He should’ve known better. Why would Kageyama care whether he can sleep or not? He digs his nails into the flash of his stomach. Stupid, stupid, stupid!
Shouyou hears the rustle of fabric. He looks over to see Kageyama holding open his comforter as an invitation, refusing to meet his gaze.
A rush of excitement hits him in the chest. Without hesitation he crawls under Kageyama’s arm and nuzzles his nose against the hollow of his throat. Long arms loop around him, and the anxiety goes adrift like tides clearing away beached knots of seaweed.
Chapter 3: Wading into Shallows
Chapter Text
A balled-up piece of paper goes soaring through the air, missing his face by inches.
“Mrs Ueno told ya to have it done yesterday ya dumb cunt!”
“Yeah, well, what’s she gonna do? Bitch called my parents so many times they’re on a first-name basis.”
Kei rolls his eyes at the two guys yelling at the top of their lungs by some lockers. A group of girls lean against the wall, sizing everyone up like they’re ready to pick a fight. Another girl chases a boy down the busy hallway, throwing stomach-turning profanities you wouldn’t expect from someone wearing pigtails.
Yeah. The students at Kawagashi Middle School really are a piece of work. These idiots make Nishinoya and Tanaka look like a pair of goody two-shoes.
It’s his first day at school.
He could’ve started last Wednesday like the others if he hadn’t been so sick. But now that he’s seen everything this school has to offer, he yearns for his bed back at home.
His bed. Home. Huh. Isn’t it too soon to be using those words? Whatever.
The service at the clinic was surprisingly swift and efficient last Sunday, considering the building looked on the verge of collapse. Dr Masuda (Karasuno’s regular physician) had stitched up his wound, prescribed him antibiotics, and gave him strict instructions to take it easy for the next week. He isn’t to do any strenuous activity for a while, and Kei is perfectly at peace with that.
On Monday, Sugawara took Yamaguchi, Idiot #1 and Idiot #2 to Kawagashi for an interview and a tour around the school. Yamaguchi dumped a bunch of second-hand shit into Kei’s lap when they got back, pleased with himself. Though the beta made it no secret that he loathed to go back to sitting at a desk for six hours a day, he took pleasure in Kei’s open disdain for their enrolments.
This is lame.
“I’m going outside for some air,” he tells Yamaguchi. And Yamaguchi follows, because it’s not like he’s going to loiter in the crowded hallway by himself. The beta has already been targeted by bullies and he hasn’t even been here a full week.
Graffiti—and not even good graffiti—marks the brick exterior of the courtyard. A bunch of first-years who sit at the back of his class are playing with a lighter, trying to set the grass on fire. Because you know—it’s common knowledge that winter is the prime season for grass fires.
“I hate this place.”
“It’s only your first day.”
“Okay, this is your fourth day.” Kei swings around to look Yamaguchi in the eye. “Do you like this place?”
The beta sighs. “No, not really.”
“I have a feeling my opinion will stay the same, whether it’s my first or my fiftieth day here.” Kei sits down on a barrier meant to crop off a small piece of garden. The flowers are wilted and depressing. It’s a perfect reflection of his mood.
“Even though this place sucks, I can’t bring myself to be mad about it.” Yamaguchi stuffs his hands into his pockets and sits down next to him. “We’re lucky we even get to go to school at all. Sawamura and Sugawara have our futures and best interests at heart and that’s honestly more than what I could say for my real parents.”
“When you put it that way you make me sound like an ungrateful asshole.”
“Are you saying you’re not an ungrateful asshole?”
“True.”
“Ah, that reminds me—we’re meeting our new tutor tonight.”
Kei sighs. Heavily.
One of the conditions set by the school following their enrolment was to do extra tutoring outside class to compensate for the years missed in elementary school. The tutor Sawamura picked out for them is apparently someone only two years older and from a fancy school in Middle Tokyo. How embarrassing. But the bitter pill is easier to swallow knowing Hinata’s got it the worst. Out of the four of them, he’s been out of school the longest.
Yamaguchi tilts his face towards the inhospitable overcast, a small breeze caressing his tattered bangs. They’re all in desperate need of a haircut. “I wonder what he’s like?”
He plucks a shrivelled petal from one of the dying flowers. “He’s probably a stuck-up bastard. They all are at those elite schools.”
“Well that explains a lot about how you turned out, doesn’t it?”
“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”
Kei’s biological family were well-off once upon a time. They’d go out for dinner together every weekend, their apartment had a fireplace and a fancy dining room, and he and his older brother went to a snobby elite school for kids with successful, wealthy parents. The worst part was how he’d bought into the lifestyle so easily. He had believed (unironically) that he was important, and he expected everyone around to him treat him as such. It was only when everything was taken from him that he realised that he’d been a punchline to an elaborate joke.
Dad got in deep with the casinos owned by The Don, spitting out more money than he had. When he couldn’t pay off his debts, he was offed in the middle of a busy street in broad daylight. There were several witnesses. None of them saw the killer (allegedly). They had to move into a shitty apartment in Lower Tokyo. Mum started drinking. A little after his brother Presented, he got stabbed in a mugging on his way home from school. The funeral was brief. Mum drank more.
Then social services got involved, and there was no way he was going to be a pay check for a foster family.
He met Yamaguchi two weeks after he ran away.
“Timing is everything, Kageyama!” Kei hates that he can recognise that voice, even from a distance. It’s a shrill sound, like a bow clawing the strings of a violin.
“It’d be easier if you kicked off at the right time, dumbass!”
Well, might as well see what the two simpletons are up to. He’s getting bored of watching his classmates fail at arson.
Dumb and Dumber are in a different area of the schoolyard; it’s more secluded from the main traffic. A broken old basketball backboard sits suspended about three meters off the ground. It’s missing its ring, and the metal reinforcement fixing it to the concrete wall is so gruesomely rusted it’s a miracle it’s still able to support the backboard at all.
Hinata backs up a little with a handful of mud, and then runs straight at Kageyama, who’s got his knees bent and his fingers laced together in front of him.
For one hopeful moment, Kei thinks they’re going to crash into each other. Instead, Kageyama lifts at the same time Hinata bounces his foot off Kageyama’s hands, propelling the ginger high in the air.
Yamaguchi gasps. Kei’s jaw drops.
For just a moment, the little shit looks like he’s flying.
Hinata smacks his hand against the top corner of the backboard, using the chunk of mud to mark it. The ginger lands, knees bent to sustain the impact, then the two of them look up at the same time to check the board.
“Awesome!” Hinata punches the air, and Kageyama’s got one of those stupid, self-indulgent smirks on his face.
“Lame.”
They both turn and collectively scowl.
“What do you want, Jerk-Face?” Hinata scrunches up his nose and it makes him look like a piglet.
“Nothing. I just thought you two were doing something productive. My mistake.”
“Is that the highest you’ve gotten so far?” Yamaguchi asks. He really wishes the beta would stop encouraging their stupidity.
“I think so,” Hinata says.
“We could go higher,” Kageyama asserts.
They watch Hinata and His Majesty practice jumping (they’re calling it “Ultimate Bounce”, but Kei isn’t a nerd, so) for the rest of lunch. They never get as high as the jump they’d first witnessed. He deems it time wasted when the bell finally rings.
*
Hinata is dwarfed by the boy standing at their front door, and it’s hilarious.
“Good afternoon, Sakusa! Thanks again for agreeing to tutor my packmates.” Sugawara places a hand on Hinata’s shoulder.
“My uh—friends gave your pack a glowing recommendation.”
“Did they now? Well, no need to be shy. Come on in! Boys! The tutor’s here!”
Sakusa Kiyoomi is the kid who goes to the fancy-pants school in Middle Tokyo. Tadashi appraises him as he steps through the door. His foreign alpha pheromones stink up the place, as foreign alpha pheromones often do. He’s tall. Really tall. He’s apparently the same age as Azumane, but he reckons Sakusa might be even taller than him. Black curls fall effortlessly to one side of his mask-covered face, and he has two moles that sit above his right brow. He has a bright yellow sports jacket zipped up to his chin and a black duffle bag slung over his shoulder.
Sakusa folds into a slight bow. “Nice to meet you.”
The four younger boys bow back.
Sakusa gets them started on kanji. Tadashi and Tsukki are relatively OK with Japanese, so their tutor spends most of his energy on Kageyama and Hinata, who sit in a puddle of their own struggles the moment Sakusa introduces today’s content.
“I can’t believe I’m jealous of Nishinoya and Tanaka,” Tadashi grumbles as he repeats the stroke order of the character for ‘melancholy’ twenty times in his practice notebook.
“What? Instead of writing half a hundred times you’d rather punch the air half a hundred times?” Tsukki rolls his eyes. “They’re both tedious.”
The moment they got home, Nishinoya and Tanaka changed into their karategi and high-tailed it across the road for classes at Sawamura’s dojo. Azumane has math academy straight after school, so he has his karate lessons in the evening. Sawamura promised to take the four of them on as his students too, but only once they’ve settled in at school.
“I don’t get why you hate sports so much, Tsukki. With your height, you could be unstoppable.”
“Effort is for losers.”
There’s a knock at the door. Hinata perks up. “I’ll get it!”
Sugawara materializes seemingly out of thin air, snagging the back of Hinata’s shirt before he can get his fingers on the deadbolt again. “You don’t know who’s behind the door, Shouyou. Just let me answer it, ‘kay?”
Hinata pouts and sits back down at the table, but that doesn’t stop him from craning his neck to try and get a peek at who the visitor might be.
“Oh! Oikawa-san, Iwaizumi-san. What a—” but before Sugawara can finish his sentence, Kageyama has leapt across the room.
“Go fuck yourselves,” he snarls in the newcomers’ faces, and then slams the door shut.
A stunned silence falls over the apartment. Kageyama is panting harshly, face twisted into a look that makes him downright frightening.
Worried, Sugawara reaches for him. “Kage—”
But Kageyama turns and marches away, stepping into the bedroom and slamming the paper doors shut behind him. Sugawara gapes. Everyone is speechless. Not even Hinata has words for what just happened.
Well, except Tsukki of course. “Who shoved a pole up his ass?”
There’s another polite knock at the door, and Sugawara shakes his head before scrambling to open it again. He jerks into a perfect ninety-degree bow. “I’m so sorry! I have no idea what came over my packmate, he—”
“Please, no apology needed! Tobio-chan can be a bit of a handful, can’t he?” a smooth, charming voice replies.
“We’re here for an Identity Verification check for your new members,” another informs matter-of-factly.
“So soon?”
“Your application was fast-tracked. We don’t know why—we tend not to ask too many questions when the Big Dogs give us the orders directly.”
“I see. Well—uh …” Sugawara glances at the bedroom.
“Oh, don’t worry about Tobio-chan. His profile is already on record. I mean, he’s probably grown a bit since then, but that’ll be all updated once he’s Presented.”
The omega nods and turns to them. “Sakusa, I’m so sorry. Could we possibly put things on pause for a little bit? I wasn’t expecting this to happen today.”
Sakusa shakes his head. “It’s no trouble. I can do some of my homework while I wait.”
“I’ll make you some tea! Kids? Come here. This is Oikawa Tooru and Iwaizumi Hajime, from pack Seijoh. They’re second-tier so be polite to them.”
“It’s going to be hard to top Kageyama in that department.” Tsukki adjusts his glasses.
From the moment Sugawara opened the door, Tadashi knew they were alphas.
Oikawa looks like he’s just walked out of a fashion magazine, with a pair of trendy glasses sitting on his nose and a navy winter coat that probably costs more than anything Tadashi will ever own. His light brown hair is stylishly wind-swept and his coffee-coloured eyes strike a balance between kind and conniving.
His companion, Iwaizumi, has harsher features, but is still strikingly handsome. A hoodie peeks out from underneath his leather jacket. His dark brown hair is spiky, black studs puncture his ears, and he has a severe pair of eyes that bore into their very souls.
They look like the alphas on TV, Tadashi thinks. All groomed and handsome and stylish. This is what all the alphas from Middle Tokyo must be like!
“We’ll make this quick,” Iwaizumi says as they both step inside.
The air around them compared to Sakusa is night and day. They don’t even ask permission before they enter. Sugawara seems to accept this, stepping out of the way with his head bowed ever so slightly.
“Take as much time as you need.” The omega moves to the kitchen and fills the kettle up with water.
Tadashi is rooted to the floor. There’s something about these guys that seems a little … off. On the surface, there’s an allure that draws the eye, a magnetism that calls the attention of the people around them, but their presence breathes a heaviness that cripples the atmosphere. It suffocates him, like a paper bag stretched over his face. Sakusa seems to sense this too, in his own subtle way. His face is neutral, but he doesn’t turn to greet their unexpected guests or even acknowledge that they’re even there.
Whatever threat Tadashi senses, Hinata and Tsukki aren’t fazed. The ginger steps forward, clutching his wrist behind his back and cocking his head at Oikawa curiously.
“Who are you?”
Ignoring him, Iwaizumi closes the door and places a briefcase on the kitchen counter.
Oikawa inspects Hinata like he’s a peculiar sculpture at an art exhibition. Then he smirks. “Friends of Tobio-chan.”
Hinata scoffs. “Liar. Kageyama doesn’t have any friends.”
Oikawa giggles, reaching out to pat Hinata on the head. Tadashi sees Sugawara tense. “Let’s just say we have a history with him then, ne?”
“Are you from his ex-pack?”
“Aw, does he talk about us a lot?”
“No!” Kageyama yells through the paper wall.
Iwaizumi hands Oikawa a polaroid camera and pulls a clipboard out of the briefcase. “You, blondie, stand up against that wall over there.”
Tsukki’s eyes narrow. “Why should I?”
“Kei!” Sugawara reprimands. “Do as they say.”
Tsukki doesn’t budge. “Not until they tell me why.”
“We’re running an ID check for your Accession application. Everyone has to do it.” Oikawa gestures towards the wall with the camera. “We’ll take some photos, record your weight and height—take a few fingerprints and a teeth mold—and then we’ll be on our merry way. Come, the sooner you cooperate the sooner we can leave.”
Tsukki crosses his arms over his chest. “And what’s second-tier pack members doing conducting a third-tier job? Did you piss off The Don?”
Oikawa’s face drops faster than a plane out of jet fuel. Tadashi clutches Tsukki so hard to the point of bruising. The tension is so heavy a wave of nausea punches him straight in the gut.
“He’s—! He’s kidding! Just kidding!” he stutters frantically. He shoves the taller boy towards the wall. “He’ll do as you say! I promise!”
To his relief, Tsukki stands up against the wall without any further protests.
Oikawa snaps the pictures and then hands them to Iwaizumi. “Okay, turn to the left.” The camera flashes. “Now turn to the right.” The camera flashes again. “Do you have any moles, freckles, scars or birthmarks on your body?”
“I have a birthmark on my stomach and a wound on my side.”
“Okay, take your shirt off.”
“Nope. I’m done. You pedos aren’t getting shit from me.”
Oikawa glares. “We need to record ID-signifiers.”
“I don’t care if a photo of me topless is the cure to cancer—”
Hinata snorts. “Fat chance.”
“—I’m not taking my shirt off.”
“Ne, Oikawa-san? Why do you need photos of Tsuki-shithead anyway?” Hinata asks, blissfully amused by Tsukki’s discomfort.
“Well, if four-eyes here gets brutally murdered and his body is found without a face, teeth or fingerprints, we need something else to help identify him.”
The ginger cringes. “Why would—but why would anyone do that?”
Oikawa gives Hinata a funny look. Tsukki sighs and pulls his shirt off. “Be quick about it then.”
The birthmark looks like a fishhook trying to reel in his bellybutton. Oikawa also snaps a picture or two of odd moles on Tsukki’s back and shoulders before asking Tadashi to swap places with him. The same procedure repeats. Front, right, left, shirt off. He doesn’t have a birthmark, but he has plenty of freckles that Oikawa captures, along with the scars on his knees. Then it’s Hinata’s turn. The procedure goes uneventfully until the ginger turns to show his back, revealing a small birthmark on his shoulder blade in the shape of a love heart.
“So cute!” Oikawa gushes. The flash goes off.
“S’not cute.” Hinata pouts. “My foster mum beat me once when she saw it. Said it makes me look like a pansy.”
‘Pansy’ is a common slur used for alphas who act like omegas.
Oikawa shrugs, plucking the polaroid that comes rolling out the bottom of the camera and passes it to Iwaizumi. “Sounds like she was a bit of a hag, hm? I wouldn’t worry your little over it. A birthmark like that could get you some serious clout in Upper Tokyo—if you Present as an omega, anyway.”
“Which I won’t!” Hinata yanks his shirt back on. “I’m going to be an alpha!”
Placing a hand on his hip, the pretty alpha looks Hinata up and down, all too amused. “I’m sure you will be.”
They then note down their heights (Tsukishima: 178cm; Yamaguchi: 167cm; Hinata: 155cm), then their weights (all three of them are underweight), their fingerprints, and then lastly, they have them each bite into molds that taste like a mixture of dirt, clay and toothpaste.
“Before we leave, are there any other things we should record? Extra toes? Missing fingernails?” Iwaizumi asks. They shake their heads. “Alright then. Sorry for the interruption, Sugawara. We’ll get out of your hair.”
Sugawara almost knocks over the kettle. “It’s nothing! You can come round anytime!”
“No they can’t!” Kageyama yells.
“See you, Tobio-chan! We’ll send your love to the others!” Oikawa chimes.
“Fuck you, Oikawa.”
“I-I’m so sorry. I’ve never seen him act this way.” Sugawara bows hastily.
“We’re used to it,” Iwaizumi deadpans.
They leave, but Kageyama refuses to come out of the bedroom. He doesn’t come out after tutoring is finished, and he doesn’t come out when the others get back and dinner’s on the table.
*
Kei adjusts his white belt as Sawamura gives a speech about discipline and the responsibility of power.
“The way of Hokon is to value honour and perseverance. We do not learn to fight so we can pick on the weak. We learn to fight only to defend the weak. You will not raise a hand to hurt the innocent, you will not use excessive force when it is unnecessary. If you ever misuse what I teach you in my classes, I will not hesitate to drop you as my student. Do you understand?”
“Osu!”
The sun shines through the barred windows, blanketing Sawamura in a golden light. It’s such a nice day outside. One of those rare winter days when the sky is clear and the sun is warm. What Kei wouldn’t give to ditch this stupid class and go for a walk.
“So what are we practicing first? Roundhouse kicks? Jump roundhouse kicks? Oh, oh— double-jump roundhouse kicks?”
Nishinoya laughs and Tanaka drags Hinata by the neck to dig his knuckle into the crown of his head. “This kid! He’s gonna be an alpha, I can feel it!”
“Yeah! Like, the toughest alpha to ever live!” Nishinoya shouts.
Hinata is beaming worse than the sun and it’s disgusting. “Bwah! You really think so?!”
“I know so!” Tanaka grins.
Sawamura clears his throat. “Seeing as it’s your first lesson, Hinata, we’ll start with the basics.”
Nishinoya and Tanaka are blue belts, Azumane is a green belt, Sugawara is a black belt (Kei was not the only one surprised to discover this), and Sawamura is a red belt with three black stripes (which is apparently the belt of a Grandmaster under the Hokon Dojo).
After stretches, Sawamura gets Nishinoya and Tanaka to start with sets while the youngest are taught the basics of form and punching.
“If I can break your stance, you’re not doing it right.” And to exemplify this, Sawamura knocks away Kei’s front leg and he falls to his knees. Hinata and Kageyama don’t even try to hide their amusement—even Yamaguchi’s cracking a smile. Traitor. “Your weight should be placed on the back leg, not the front.”
Karate lessons with Sawamura-sensei (a term strictly for the dojo only) continue after school, three times a week. And it’s much the same every lesson.
Breathing, stance, punch, maybe a kick if they’re lucky.
Then one day Sawamura separates Hinata from the rest of them, and starts teaching him disarming techniques like how to snatch a weapon out of someone’s hand, how to get out of a choke-hold, and how to break away from a bearhug. Kageyama gets annoyed. He thinks Sawamura is playing favourites.
Kei approaches Sawamura while the others are putting the punching bags away in the storage closet.
“You think Hinata’s going to be an omega.”
Towelling the sweat from his forehead, Sawamura shakes his head. “No, I don’t.”
Kei places his hands on his hips. “Then why are you treating him differently?”
Sawamura shrugs then smiles, patting Kei on the shoulder. “Maybe worry about yourself, hm? Your stance still needs some work.”
*
Life in Lower Tokyo, at least on the West Side, feels like a distant nightmare that he stuffed into a box and hoped to never acknowledge again. But being here out in South Side, the memories are all coming back to him, and he just wishes Kuro would hurry up so they could leave already.
San Tokyo is a city of colour. The opulence of gold is unique to Upper Tokyo, an aggressive reminder to everybody that ‘we are the powerful, we are the rich’. Middle Tokyo is a combination of soft greens, blues and yellows—of indoor botanicals and manmade koi ponds and old-timey lamp posts. Then there’s Lower Tokyo: a jungle of concrete perpetually dipped in ugly neon. As a concept for level-progression in a video game, San Tokyo would be awesome.
Too bad life’s not a video game.
“What’re you playing?”
He nearly drops his console. Peeking through a curtain of black hair, he sees a kid in a gi grinning back at him—much to his distress. He’s got a mop of apricot curls and big brown eyes. An elementary school kid?
“Combat King III,” he answers, his eyes sliding back to his game. His palms are suddenly sweaty.
“Is it fun?”
“I think it’s fun.”
“Do you play with your friends?”
“No.” Then, after a beat of silence, he asks, “Do you play?”
The ginger shakes his head. “Never had the money.”
Oh. He’s so stupid. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry! Maybe when I’m old enough, I’ll buy it and we can play together!”
“Sure.”
“My name’s Hinata Shouyou.”
“Kozume … Kenma.”
Shouyou grins, like meeting him is something he’ll be raving about for the next few weeks. Like he’s exceptional or something. “Nice to meet you!”
“Oi Kenma! What’d I tell you? No talkin’ to strangers. The kids around here will sell your liver for 500 yen!” They both look up. Kuro has just left the dojo and is walking in their direction. Shouyou shies away. He doesn’t blame him. Kuro could toss the kid across a football field.
“He started talking to me.”
Kuro grabs Shouyou’s head and angles it so that they’re eye-to-eye. The ginger yelps. “You one of Daichi’s?”
“Y-Yes!”
“You didn’t see us, alright? You don’t mention us to anyone. We were never here.”
“But—” A glint in Kuro’s eye has the boy shrinking further into himself. “Okay …”
“Stop tormenting him, will you?” Kenma turns and walks back to Kuro’s motorbike. “He won’t snitch.”
“How d’you know? You didn’t grow up here!” Kuro jogs to catch up to him.
“I can tell.”
“Bye Kenma!” He looks over his shoulder and then quickly turns away to hide his smile. Shouyou is bouncing on the balls of his feet, waving openly. Kuro pops a vein in his forehead.
“See you … Shouyou.”
*
Sometimes, when neither of them can sleep, they whisper to each other in the dark. They’re careful never to speak louder than the volume of Tanaka’s snores. It’s a particularly nasty night outside. The wind howls and rattles the windows of the kitchen and bathroom. Even when it’s well past midnight, there’s usually some evidence of activity stirring in the apartment complex—the creak of footsteps or the drunken barks of a passing tippler—but tonight there is nothing.
“Kageyama?”
“Hm?”
Tobio can feel Hinata’s lashes flutter against his throat.
“Did you do that thing with your ex-pack?”
His jaw twitches. “What thing?”
“You know, that thing we saw Nishinoya doing to Azumane before dinner.”
Ah. “Scenting.”
“Yeah. Did you do that with your ex-pack?”
“No.”
“Oh.” Hinata pauses, and Tobio prays he leaves it at that. But of course he doesn’t. “Why?”
He swallows thickly. “Because scenting is a gesture of love. And nobody loved me.”
“Why did it go so badly? Oikawa and Iwaizumi didn’t seem all that bad.”
“I … I can’t answer that.”
“Why—” but Hinata goes quiet when he looks up at Tobio’s face. “Kageyama?”
And it’s then he realises he’s shaking and his cheeks are wet with tears. A weight presses against his chest that he can’t seem to lift no matter how deeply he inhales. Only moments ago he felt fine, but exhaustion has suddenly seized him—not the sleepy kind, but the kind that drags you down like shackles anchored to the bottom of the ocean.
The emotions he’s been bottling up since Oikawa and Iwaizumi’s visit have finally reached a breaking point.
“I can’t answer because I don’t know,” he stutters, choking back a sob. “They left me and I still don’t understand.” The floodgates open and before Hinata can get in a word he’s talking again. “And everything is going so well right now but what if—what if Sawamura turns around one day and doesn’t want me anymore? He probably already thinks of me as a burden because I can’t work and I’m not good at school. It’s only a matter of time, right? He’ll kick me out and I’ll have to start all over again—”
“Kageyama.”
“I’ll be all alone—”
“Kageyama …”
“I’m unwanted—”
“No, you’re not!” Hinata whispers harshly, slapping a hand over Tobio’s mouth to shut him up. “Our leader would never do that, and even if he did—I’d say—I’d tell ‘em that if he wants to kick out Kageyama than he has to kick me out too!”
Winding his arms around the taller boy, Hinata clings to him, rubbing his nose clumsily over the area where he thinks Tobio’s scent gland should be.
He chokes on a laugh. “We don’t have scents yet, d-dumbass.”
“Don’t care.” Hinata continues. It’s obvious he doesn’t know what he’s doing.
“It’s … It’s a little higher.”
“Huh?”
Tobio buries his blushing face in Hinata’s shoulder. “My scent gland. It’s a little higher.”
“Like this?”
He feels Hinata’s button nose graze the spot just under his jaw and he shudders. “Y-Yeah.”
“See? No need to feel lonely. You have me. And where you go, I go too. Got it?”
He only hugs Hinata tighter.
The next day is a Sunday. Tobio and Hinata sleep in a little later than usual, and only stir when Sugawara shakes their shoulders and tells them breakfast is on the table.
They step out of the bedroom to the sound of excitement in the alley outside the apartment.
“Missed me!” It’s Yamaguchi.
“I won’t miss twice!” And that’s definitely Nishinoya.
Folding his legs on the floor in front of a plate of eggs, Hinata asks, “What’re they doing out there?”
Sawamura sits opposite him, reading a newspaper. “It snowed last night.”
The ginger perks up. Tobio eats his bowl of rice quietly, still processing last night’s conversation.
“Come on, Kageyama! Eat up so we can go play!”
“Wipe your mouth, idiot. You’ve got yolk on your face.”
Hinata is determined to get ready as quickly as humanly possible. And Tobio can’t accept being bested at a race, so he rushes right alongside him.
The moment Hinata flings open the front door, a voice yells, “Watch out!”
A snowball goes whizzing over Hinata’s head and hits Tobio square in the face. The shocked silence lasts only half a second before the alley is alive with laughter. Tobio wipes the snow from his face and scowls. But then an evil thought strikes him. Hooking his arms under Hinata’s armpits, he hoists the ginger off his feet. The smaller boy squeaks, kicking the air and squirming frantically as Tobio carries him over to the thickest pile of snow he can find and drops him on top of it.
“Jerk!”
Tobio smirks. Hinata pops his head out of the mound of snow and pats flakes from his hair. He then springs to his feet, eyes determined. “This means war!”
They split into two teams: Tanaka, Hinata and Nishinoya on one; Yamaguchi, Tobio and Azumane on the other. Tsukishima can be seen through the window upstairs, glancing down at them every so often with mild interest.
The snowball fight reminds Tobio just how much of a formidable opponent Hinata really is. He’s small, thin and quick, making him almost impossible to hit from any distance; and as if that isn’t enough, he’s also teeming with excess energy. One moment he’s zig-zagging across the alley, dodging snowballs left and right, and then the next he’s kicking off the wall and hurtling a snowball at them with perfect precision.
Tanaka and Nishinoya are only a little less annoying to handle because their strategies are predictable. Nishinoya is good at tumble rolls, so he’s difficult to pin down, and Tanaka has a brutal swing that has his snowballs aching minutes after impact.
He and Azumane hold their own, but Yamaguchi is hopeless. The most he has going for him is his aim, and even then, he misses roughly three out of five throws. Eventually, the beta just gives up and cowers behind their wall with his hands on his head. No matter what Azumane and Tobio say, the onslaught of snowballs the other team pelt their way discourages Yamaguchi to the point of stagnancy.
“Oi, oi! Stop for a moment, will you?” Sugawara yells, and the ceasefire is immediate. The omega shoves Tsukishima out the front door. “A pack that plays together, stays together!”
Tsukishima looks constipated. His hands are in his parka and the muscles in his face are working overdrive to keep every emotion at bay. He mutters something, but no one hears him.
Tobio quints. “What?”
Tsukishima looks at Sugawara pleadingly, and the omega pats him on the back. Is that a blush? On Tsukishima?
The blonde tries again. “Can I … join?”
“Of course you can!” Tanaka yells. “You can be on Azumane’s team, ‘cuz right now they need all the help they can get!”
“Only ‘cuz we have Japan’s strongest future alpha!” Nishinoya ruffles Hinata’s hair, and the ginger preens under the attention.
“Not just Japan, the whole wide world!” Hinata hops up and down, grinning ear-to-ear.
“Well said!”
They play for another hour. Tsukishima makes up for what Yamaguchi lacks, and evens out the playing field and allows both teams to get in some good hits. But just when his team looks like they’re about to turn the tides in their favour, their game gets cut short when Azumane accidently hits the mailman in the stomach.
Sawamura and Sugawara apologise profusely (Azumane is in a catatonic state of embarrassment). And while the elderly man is disgruntled, he’s still gracious enough to hand over their mail, which consists of two envelops and one manila folder.
Their leader flips it over to check the sender of the folder and he smiles. “Gather the kids inside. I’ve got a present for them.”
After they’d taken off their shoes, shrugged off their coats, and pulled off their beanies, mittens and scarves, the pack crowd around the living room table with freshly poured mugs of hot chocolate. Sawamura slides the manila folder across the table towards Tobio. He blinks, baffled at the look of anticipation on his leader’s face. Nishinoya, Tanaka, Sugawara and Azumane all appear to be in the know as well.
“Go on.” Hinata nudges him, his eyes swimming with curiosity. “Open it.”
Carefully peeling away the seal, he pulls out four pieces of thick, expensive paper. The one at the top has Yamaguchi’s name on it. Tobio stares, then realisation hits him. “These—!”
“They’re your Membership Certificates,” Sawamura confirms proudly.
This is the second time in Tobio’s life that he’s gotten one of these, but it feels different this time. He hands each certificate out to their respective owners. Hinata is practically bouncing off the walls and jumping into the arms of anyone that will catch him (which is everyone except Tsukishima), and Yamaguchi looks like he’s about to pass out. Tsukishima is quiet. You wouldn’t know this meant anything to him going off his flat expression, but his eyes linger on the document for longer than necessary.
Tobio is much the same. He’s fixated by the words written out in gothic English text; his name scribbled in pen across a line. Red wax is stamped by the insignia of Shiratorizawa, along with a signature scrawled across the bottom.
“See here? It’s signed by Don Ushijima himself!” Sugawara shows Hinata on his certificate.
“Woah! The Don knows I exist?”
Sugawara fights down a smile. “Probably not. He likely just signed the certificates his assistant handed him.”
“Oh.”
“But you know what this means right?”
Hinata stares at the ceiling thoughtfully. “We’re officially packmates?”
“Yes, but it also means you can get your tattoos!”
Tobio blinks, snapping out of his stupor. He almost completely forgot about the matching tattoos the members of Karasuno share. Seijoh never did anything like that. Such things would be looked down upon as tacky or juvenile.
“Where do you think you’ll get yours, Tsukki? I was thinking here, on the inside of my elbow.” Yamaguchi points to the junction between his bicep and forearm.
“Somewhere no one can see it.”
“Aw, Tsukki! It’s not something to be embarrassed about. You should pick a place where people can see it—you know—show it off. What about you, Kageyama? Got anywhere in mind?”
On the outside, he’s completely detached, but on the inside his heart swells with pride. He smiles, despite himself, when he says, “I think I have an idea.”
Chapter 4: Mouths to Feed
Chapter Text
It’s frustrating to be constantly left out of the loop.
If Tobio had to describe what those six months with Seijoh were like, he’d say it was like navigating through the dark with a faulty flashlight. Just when you think you’re getting your bearings, the light flickers and disorientates you. Every interaction was plagued by second guesses. When they told him ‘you did a good job’, did they mean it or were they just saying it to make him feel better?
And while Tobio would never say that Karasuno are anywhere near as terrible with their communication as Seijoh were, there’s still little things here and there that bother him.
Like how they treat Hinata, for example.
They’re taking turns with the punching bags. Tanaka is paired with Yamaguchi, and he’s paired with Tsukishima. Though he tries his best to keep his eyes forward and his straight kicks stable, he’s distracted. Hinata is all the way at the other side of the room with Sawamura-sensei, getting taught things that the rest of them aren’t even up to yet. It’s infuriating. What is it about Hinata that makes him so remarkable? It’s not just Sawamura who gives him special treatment either. The whole pack treat him like he’s the single most precious thing to ever grace the earth and it’s unwarranted.
If anything, he should be given special treatment. He’s the youngest!
“Will you stop looking over at Hinata? Your obsession is making me nauseas.”
He turns his head forward with a scowl. Tsukishima is behind the punching bag, a glint of judgement reflecting off his glasses.
“I’m not obsessed with him.”
“So you’re not distracted and sucking on purpose?”
“Shut up.” He slams the ball of his foot against the centre of the bag. Tsukishima takes the impact without trouble. “I just don’t see why Hinata has to be different from the rest of us. It’s not like he’s a prodigy.”
Tsukishima’s got that smirk on his face that Tobio hates. A lot. “Are you jealous of Hinata?”
“No!” His foot hits the bag but he forgets to pull his toes back. “Ugh!”
The blonde snorts. “You’re so clueless.”
“I just think they shouldn’t play favourites!”
“Is that what you think Sawamura-sensei is doing? Teaching Hinata because he’s the favourite?”
“It’s not just Sawamura-sensei,” he grumbles.
“Swap!” Noya yells. He’s standing on a chair with his arms crossed, looking down on them like a drill sergeant.
They swap places so that he’s behind the punching bag and Tsukishima is kicking.
“It’s Sugawara, and Azumane, and Tanaka, and Noya—all of them.” He grunts as the impact of Tsukishima’s kick throws his stance off balance. “Sugawara puts little notes in Hinata’s lunches.”
“He does that for all of us.”
“Yeah but he signs Hinata’s off with hearts, and slips him extra katsu. And Noya comes up to the first-year classrooms to check that Hinata hasn’t forgotten his sports uniform, and Tanaka buys him snacks all the time, and—”
“Ugh, Hinata this, Hinata that, I was joking before but you really are obsessed with him.”
“I am not!”
“Have you ever stopped to ask yourself why the pack does all those things?”
Tobio frowns. Tsukishima continues kicking, but isn’t able to break his stance again.
When the class winds down, Sawamura gets them all in a circle to do stretches. Their leader’s phone goes off. Usually during lessons he’ll ignore it, but he happens to look over at the screen to see who it is, and immediately picks up.
“Koushi? Hang on—slow down. I can’t understand you—” they all stop to look over at Sawamura, who has his phone to his ear and a crease between his eyebrows. “Oh god. Lock yourself in the bathroom. Don’t open it until I get there—”
“Is Sugawara in trouble?” Noya ends his hamstring stretch and rolls into a sitting position. “What’s going on?”
Sawamura is putting on his shoes, the phone still pressed to his ear. “Someone’s trying to break into the apartment.”
“What!?”
Not a second is wasted before the pack springs into action. They barrel down the stairs, most of them still barefooted, with Hinata and Tobio having a head start. A car screeches as they run onto the road. Noya jumps over the hood and flips off the driver. Honks and profanities are thrown after him. Tobio can hear Sawamura yell something but it gets lost in the wind whipping past his ears.
They make it to the alley in time to see a man stumble out of their apartment with something in his arms. It’s the jar of savings Sugawara keeps in the overhead cupboard. Anger tightens his jaw.
“Kageyama!”
“Let’s do it!”
With a particularly strong push, he gets ahead of Hinata, lacing his fingers in front of him and bracing his knees. If he’d been just a millisecond slower it would’ve been a disaster, but the timing is just right. Hinata kicks off his hands and goes soaring, like an orange bullet hurtling through the air.
“Ultimate!” Hinata raises his knee. “Bounce!”
His knee makes contact with the thief’s face and there’s a disgusting crunch upon impact. The jar hits the stone and shatters, sending a flurry of paper money everywhere. Another thief emerges just as Hinata hits the ground, but Tanaka and Noya are on him before he can even react.
“Koushi? Koushi, are you there?” Sawamura stands in the doorway, frantic and out of breath. “Oh, thank god.”
Sugawara steps out into the alley. A trail of blood drips from a shallow cut on his forehead, and he’s clutching the barrel of a handgun. The omega’s gentle eyes have turned to steel; an expression he’s never once seen him wear before. There’s a deadliness etched into the creases of his snarl, like he’s ready to tear someone’s head off. It floods ice into Tobio’s veins. The thief Hinata took down turns on his side and spits out loose teeth. The other doesn’t even try to squirm with Tanaka and Noya sitting on top of him.
Cupping the side of Sugawara’s face, Sawamura asks, “Are you OK?”
“Our savings …” is all the omega mutters in reply.
Hinata and Tobio try to snatch up as much as they can, but a particularly harsh gust of wind launches most of it up into the alley and out the other side.
“What good is being a black belt if I can’t even defend myself properly.” Sugawara sighs, wiping away some of the blood with his sleeve.
“It was two to one and they surprised you. You did the best you could.” Sawamura hugs his partner reassuringly, but Sugawara barely reacts.
“You should call Tendou.”
He pulls back, looking at the omega in shock. “Koushi …”
“No, p-please! Don’t get Shiratorizawa involved! Please, we—we didn’t know a rogue pack lived here,” the one under Noya and Tanaka pleads, voice snapping like a guitar string.
Sugawara looks Sawamura in the eyes and says, “If you don’t call him, I will.”
They dump all the money they’d collected onto the low table and Yamaguchi starts counting.
Noya jumps on Hinata. “That was incredible! Where the hell did you learn to do that, huh? World’s #1 Alpha? For a minute there I thought you were gonna sprout wings and fly off!”
Locking the front door, Tanaka peers out the kitchen window at Sugawara and Sawamura, who are watching over the thieves until someone (this Tendou guy?) shows up to help them. He doesn’t understand why they don’t just hand them over to the police. It’d be easier, wouldn’t it? They just have to make a few statements and the burglars go to jail. That’s how that works, right?
Hinata grins. “I can’t take all the credit. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without Kageyama. He’s the one who tosses me!”
“They’ve been practicing that move every day at school,” Yamaguchi comments absently as he thumbs through the notes.
“And what d’you know? It wasn’t a complete waste of time,” Tsukishima intones.
“Well, if this doesn’t earn you two your yellow belts, I don’t know what will!” Noya slaps Tobio on the shoulder with a surprising amount of force for someone so tiny.
Yamaguchi sighs, shoulders deflating as he places down the last note in the pile.
“How much did we save?” Hinata asks tentatively.
“Only 56,000 yen.”
“That’s not even an eighth of what was in that jar.” Tanaka shrugs off his uwagi and throws his belt over his shoulder. “There goes university, I guess.”
“We can start again,” Yamaguchi reasons. “Azumane only just started high school. We’ve got time.”
But Tanaka and Noya aren’t as hopeful. He remembers them mentioning that they’d also been robbed a few months before they’d joined the pack. They’d lost a similar amount to what was lost today, only that time the thieves got away because no one was home.
Tobio sits upstairs and watches the alley through the window. The others join him, all squashing onto the couch to observe their leader and Sugawara.
“Sugawara looks scary with a gun.” Yamaguchi shudders, pressing closer to Tsukishima.
“You wouldn’t guess it,” Noya says, “but Sugawara can be really threatening when he wants to be. Asahi thinks he’s got a dark history and I mean—I kinda have to agree with him.”
“Why do you think that?”
“Sugawara never talks about his past. Aside from Daichi, Asahi has known him the longest, and even he can’t say he knows much about his history. Just that he always wanted to be a teacher and that he started dating Daichi at sixteen.”
Tobio stares at the omega, who holds the handgun loosely in his grasp. They have the thieves up against the wall with their hands laced behind their heads. The couple are talking about something, but not loud enough to be heard by the rest of the pack.
About half an hour goes by before people show up. There’s four of them. They’re all ridiculously tall. The one leading from the front has spiky red hair and walks with his shoulders hunched, his hands stuffed into his trouser pockets.
“Grandmaster-san! You look so cool in your karategi!” Sawamura and Sugawara bow as the redhead approaches.
“Thank you for coming to our aid, Tendou-san.” Sawamura uses his Formal Voice; the one he only ever uses with rogues that are above them in status.
“T’was not a problem! You caught me while I was bored, so I was happy for an escape! I brought some folks from Date along to deal with things. Hope you don’t mind! I don’t really like getting my hands dirty. Like to keep ‘em nice and soft.”
Three people hang behind Tendou. One of them is a frowning six-foot-something giant with white hair and no eyebrows. The word ‘humour’ doesn’t look to be a part of his vocabulary. The youngest-looking one is a similar height—maybe even a little taller—with yellow hair and a patch of brown at the front that’s spiked to look like a bird’s tail (think Noya’s hair colour, but in reverse). The last is shorter (only a measly six-foot at most compared to his companions), with short brown hair and a plainly handsome face.
“Aone, Futakuchi, Koganegawa, I’m sure you’ve heard of Grandmaster Sawamura Daichi and his lovely omega, Sugawara Koushi, hm? They’re practically celebrities out here in Lower Tokyo.” Tendou says this like it’s a joke. Tobio immediately dislikes him.
Their leader bows. “Daichi is fine.”
“Yes, Karasuno is known, even by packs from the East and West,” Futakuchi says. “I always found it strange that such a known name continues to live in squaller on the fringes of the South Side.”
“It’s still early days.” Sawamura gives a strained smile.
“That’s right—and new members to boot! Congrats on the approval. I took a peek at the profiles of your recent additions and I have to say—quite the impressive bunch! Bit of a scandal for you to take on an ex-member of Seijoh. Second-time’s the charm, ey?”
Tobio can feel more than a few glances sent his way, but he ignores them.
“He’s a good kid,” Sawamura states with conviction. “Maybe I’m out of line in saying this, but I think Seijoh made a mistake in abandoning Kageyama. He has amazing potential.”
“Oh ho ho! Ordinarily you would be out of line in saying that, but I’m no snitch! They’ll never hear it from me!”
An odd feeling washes over him, one that he hasn’t felt before. Tanaka pats him on the back, and Noya ruffles his hair like a proud older brother. And though no one can see it, he feels a hand squeeze his own. He looks at Hinata, but the ginger isn’t looking at him. His eyes are trained on what’s happening outside.
The members from Date tie up the thieves and place bags over their heads. At some point, one of them starts crying. They’re dragged away—they can’t see where, but he assumes they’re put into the back of a van, because he hears the slam of car doors.
“It’ll be interesting to see what your pups Present as,” Tendou says slyly. The way he talks makes Tobio’s skin crawl. “It’s always fun to guess when fresh blood joins our ranks. If you pay close attention, the outcome is fairly obvious.”
“I hear your newest additions are both omegas. Congratulations.” But Sawamura says it like he’s giving his condolences.
“Yes, but what’s an omega if they’re marked and deflowered, hm? Such a waste.”
“They’ve been through a lot.”
“As have we all. Not to worry. I’m sure Waka-chan can make use of them. He’s always been the resourceful type.”
“I hope The Don is well.”
Tendou snickers. “Liar. Anyway, I’ll see you around. Hopefully not here. I hate this place. There aren’t any pretty omegas anywhere! Ah—sorry Kou-chan, aside from you, of course.”
Sugawara and Sawamura bow. As Tendou turns to leave, he looks up, meeting the watchful gazes that follow him like crows perched on a telephone pole. It dawns on Tobio then that Tendou probably knew they were there all along. The hairs on his arms stand on end. Hinata yelps and Noya falls off the couch.
“Oh! Tendou-san!” Sugawara chases after Tendou, the redhead barely in the window’s periphery. The omega bows, offering the gun in his hand. “If it’s not too much of a bother, could you please take this?”
Tendou sways his head to the side. “Ha? Wouldn’t you wanna keep it? Could come in handy someday, you know.”
“No, I don’t want it anywhere near my kids.”
Tendou accepts the weapon with a shrug, slipping it into the lapel of his coat. “You’re funny, you two. You try so hard to shelter them from the world, but what’ll you do when the world comes a knockin’?”
Sugawara remains bowed right up until they hear a car pull away from the curb.
Later, when Yamaguchi tells Sugawara what they were able to salvage, the omega just pats the beta’s head without energy left to care.
*
Akiba DPS is a multilevel super complex in the heart of Lower Tokyo South. It isn’t much to gawk at. The boutiques aren’t high fashion, the food court is largely made up of cheap fast-food chains, and half the games at the arcade are either broken or missing parts (the Hoop Troop doesn’t even have any basketballs).
To Tadashi and the others, though, it’s a reprieve.
They’re only a few weeks away from starting their second year of middle school, and Sugawara thought it’d be a good idea to go shopping for supplies. The days are also gradually getting warmer, so they’re in need of lighter clothes to add to their wardrobes.
As the four of them toddle after Sugawara as he breezes past the shops, Tadashi can’t help but think they’re like baby ducklings waddling after their mother. It’s absurd. They’re all officially teens now, but even so they know better than to wander off without their guardian’s permission. Every so often the omega will glance at them over his shoulder to make sure they’re not getting distracted. Especially Hinata, since shiny things seem to have a hypnotic power over him.
“Ne, Sugawara.” Hinata tugs at the back of the omega’s shirt. “Is there a chance we can come here on the weekends?”
Sugawara’s eyes sweep the signs above. “Hm? What for?”
“Just to like, hang.”
“You mean by yourselves?”
“In groups! Like me, Kageyama, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi.” Hinata latches himself to Tadashi’s arm. Then he adds when catches the uncertainty in Sugawara’s frown: “A-And maybe Noya and Tanaka and Azumane can join us too!”
Sugawara doesn’t outright reject the idea. “I guess it wouldn’t be fair of me to say ‘no’, seeing as I already let Ryu and Yuu go to the arcade by themselves … Tell you what: I’ll let you come here whenever you like, so long as you take one of our older packmates with you.”
“Whoop!” Hinata pumps the air and almost steps on Tadashi’s foot when he lands.
The beta snickers and shoves him away playfully.
Tsukishima’s eyes roll to the ceiling. “You really think Azumane will do anything if one of us gets kidnapped?”
Tadashi elbows him. “Tsukki! Don’t talk about our packmate like that! He took really good care of you when you were sick don’t forget!”
“Besides,” Kageyama adds, “Azumane looks intimidating. A kidnapper would take one look at him and decide it isn’t worth the effort.”
The topic of kidnapping must have Sugawara feeling a certain way, because he growls at them to stop lagging behind.
Tadashi doesn’t think kidnapping would be much of an issue. Shoppers at Akiba DPS appear innocent enough. It’s mostly families and teenagers.
It’s not unheard of to get abducted in a mall, but only in places like Middle and Upper Tokyo where children are harder to snatch. In Lower Tokyo, where streets are teeming with strays, there’s no real need for traffickers to go above and beyond.
The smaller boutiques make way for a U-Mart discount department store. Hinata runs around ‘oohing’ and ‘ahhing’ at the vast range of goods, but when he gets a little too far ahead of them, Sugawara scolds him. The ginger pouts and sticks close to Sugawara after that.
They’re given free rein to pick out three t-shirts in the teenage boy section, along with one pair of shorts and one pair of jeans. After they’ve picked their choices, Sugawara herds them over to the changing rooms to try their clothes on. No one else is there, so they don’t bother locking their doors. Sugawara sits in the waiting area, ready to go exchange sizes if what they’ve chosen doesn’t fit properly.
Tadashi comes out in shorts and one of the t-shirts he picked. Tsukki is standing in front of the wall-length mirror in the waiting area wearing a frog-green, round neck t-shirt with a cartoon stegosaurus on the front. While the shirt hangs like a curtain around his waist, the fabric bunches awkwardly at the shoulders.
Sugawara tugs at Tsukki’s sleeves with a frown. “This was the biggest size on the rack, was it?”
Tsukki nods.
“Maybe we’ll have to look in the adult section for you?” A look of pain crosses Tsukki’s expression, and Sugawara quickly adds: “But you can have this one if you want.”
“I’ll get this … and I’ll swap out the other two for adult sizes.” Sugawara nods encouragingly.
“I’m sure we can find dinosaur prints in the adult section. If not, we can look elsewhere.”
The door to Tadashi’s right creaks open, revealing Hinata. Tadashi snorts and slaps his hand over his mouth, but too late. Tsukki turns, his eyes landing on Hinata, and they both proceed to burst into laughter.
Hinata’s face goes bright red as he struggles to keep his shorts around his hips. “D-Don’t laugh at me! These were the smallest sizes they had!”
The t-shirt almost touches Hinata’s knees, and his shorts wouldn’t be able to wrap around Hinata’s tiny hips even with a belt. Kageyama hears the commotion and pokes his head out of his stall, eyes owlishly curious.
The curiosity turns to smugness when he spots Hinata. “You look like a kid.”
“L-L-Looks like you’ll be shopping in the little boy’s section!” Tsukki gasps. Tadashi slaps him on the back and howls.
Hinata huffs and slams his door. Sugawara cuffs the back of Tsukki’s and Tadashi’s heads before telling them to get back in the stalls.
In the end, Hinata really does have to get clothes from the preteen section. It’s a feast ripe for the picking, and Tsukki doesn’t hold back. Whenever Sugawara is distracted, Tsukki leans over to sneer an insult in Hinata’s ear. Tadashi playfully joins in here and there, but doesn’t encourage some of the nastier comments Tsukki makes. Kageyama is well and truly over the insults by the time they’ve left the dressing room.
Hinata is riled up, ready to tackle Tsukki to the ground. That is, until they pass the toy section. The ginger stops. The rest keep up with Sugawara. It isn’t until they’re at the other end of the aisle that Sugawara turns and realises Hinata isn’t with them.
Kageyama rolls his eyes and yells at the ginger, “Oi, dumbass! Get over here!”
Hinata doesn’t respond, still staring, and Tadashi volunteers to go get him. When he gets to the ginger’s side, he takes his hand and tugs it. “C’mon, you’re holding everyone up.”
He blinks and shakes his head. “S-Sorry.”
Tadashi follows his line of sight. It’s just a bunch of stuffed plushies stacked on top of each other. “What’re you looking at?”
“Nothing.”
“Let’s go then.”
“R-Right.”
They get to the counter and Sugawara pulls out a bunch of tickets, only for a thin roll of paper to unfurl at his feet. Tadashi drops to his knees to gather it up, blinking down at the strips of paper in his hands. They’re food stamps.
“Thanks, Yamaguchi.” Sugawara holds out his hand, and Tadashi wordlessly hands them over.
The omega stuffs them back into his bag before passing the tickets to the person at the register. The woman quirks an eyebrow at Sugawara before leafing through them, taking out a few and pushing them back towards him.
“Sorry, sir. These coupons are expired. The rest I’ll apply to your purchase.”
“Oh, really?” Sugawara stutters, taking them back and double-checking them. “I thought they were still valid …”
“Sorry.”
“It’s fine.”
Tadashi and Hinata share an awkward look.
On top of the clothes, they also got notebooks and stationery for classes, and sandals and caps for summer; the purchases in total come to around 14,500 yen.
Sugawara digs his teeth into his bottom lip, reluctantly pulling out his wallet.
“I can put back a few things if you want,” Tadashi offers. “I don’t need three t-shirts.”
Hinata nods his head. “Me too. I don’t need sandals either. We have our flip-flops!”
Kageyama and Tsukki also chime in, prepared to sacrifice something to bring down the price, but Sugawara shakes his head with a gentle smile. “Don’t worry. I’ll just borrow money off of Yuu or Ryu to pay off the bills, and I’ll reimburse them later.”
“You don’t have to do that!” Hinata cries, hanging off Sugawara’s arm. “We’ll get jobs! We’ll pay you back!”
“You aren’t old enough to work, Shouyou.”
“We can figure out something!” Kageyama insists. “There are plenty of restaurants who pay cash-in-hand!”
Tadashi bobs his head in agreement.
The cashier clears her throat impatiently. “Sir, there are people waiting.”
The tips of Sugawara’s ears turn pink and he hastily hands over the credit card, ignoring their protests. They leave with all the items they chose, but none of them are feeling particularly thrilled about it.
The omega smiles and wraps an arm around Tadashi, giving his shoulder a squeeze. “What’s with the long faces? You’re still kids. Daichi and I don’t expect you to pay for your own stuff.”
“You let Tanaka and Nishinoya pay for their own stuff!” Kageyama huffs, and Hinata scrunches his nose and nods.
“We let them do odd jobs around South Side so they can buy extra luxuries we can’t afford—like games or comics. We don’t expect them to cover their own living costs. We’re a pack. The point of a pack is to look after one another.”
“Then who’s looking after you?” Tsukki asks.
“Daichi, of course.”
“And who’s looking after him?” Tadashi asks.
“I am.”
Hinata pouts. “We can look after you too!”
Sugawara laughs, ruffling Hinata’s tangle of apricot curls. “Worry about that when I’m old and need help going to the bathroom. For now—just be kids, for goodness sake!”
It’s a ten-minute walk home from where the bus drops them off. Tadashi lags a little behind, going at Tsukki’s pace, as Hinata hangs off Sugawara’s arm and chats his ear off. Kageyama lingers somewhere between, looking like he wants to be a part of the conversation between Hinata and Sugawara, but not really knowing how to approach it. The raven-haired boy settles for nodding along or tilting his head inquisitively.
“It’s disgusting,” Tsukki sneers.
“What is?”
“Just how obvious he is.”
“How obvious who is?”
“Don’t act stupid, Yamaguchi. You know who I’m talking about.”
Tadashi smirks coyly. “Afraid I don’t. You’re gonna have to spell it out for me I’m afraid.”
“His Majesty.”
“Kageyama?”
“Yes,” Tsukki growls.
“And what’s he being obvious about?”
Tsukki sighs. “Why are you making me elaborate when you already know where I’m going with this.”
Tadashi grins wolfishly. “’Cuz it’s funny.”
“How His Majesty acts towards The Village Idiot.”
“By ‘The Village Idiot’, you mean Hinata?”
“Yamaguchi.”
“Sorry, Tsukki. I’ll stop.”
“Kageyama is hopeless—they both are. And you know it’s only going to get worse when Hinata Presents as an omega.”
Tadashi blinks rapidly, jutting out his bottom lip. “What makes you say Hinata’ll be an omega?”
“Statistics.” When Tadashi doesn’t respond, Tsukki elaborates: “It’s not always accurate, but in some cases you can predict a person’s status based off their body type and disposition. Hinata isn’t growing at the same rate as the rest of us. Unless by some miracle he gets an aggressive growth spurt in the next year or so, he’ll likely always be small, as are with most omegas.”
It’s true the genders adhere to certain body types thanks to evolution. Alphas grow tall and muscular to fight and protect their mates and pack; betas are an average height, though they’re known to be either tall or short; and omegas are short and thin. There are plenty of exceptions to these examples. They’re mostly just ideals society projects onto individuals, and those that stray from those ideals tend to get ridiculed for it. Tadashi himself has been teased for being a ‘faulty alpha’—he’s got the body type of an alpha, but only a beta’s status to show for it.
“But if you follow that logic, Nishinoya should be an omega,” Tadashi says.
“Nishinoya has the personality of a pitbull.”
“I don’t think you should be making assumptions about Hinata.” The boy in question gets into an argument with Kageyama and they start racing each other the rest of the way home. Sugawara yells after them to not stray from his sight. “He could surprise us.”
“In that case, I look forward to saying ‘I told you so’ the day Hinata Presents.”
Tadashi smiles innocuously, but with a slight edge. “You stole the words right out of my mouth, Tsukki.”
Hinata and Kageyama skip to a stop outside the mouth of the alley, hunched over catching their breaths. As they near, Kageyama straightens and sees something that makes him frown.
“What’s wrong, Kageyama?” Sugawara asks.
“There’s a stranger in our alley.”
Sugawara peeks around the wall into the alley and his soft expression shifts into something unfitting to the omega’s sunny demeanour. The omega steps in front of Hinata and Kageyama, shoulders bracing as if to appear as intimating as possible.
“I told you not to come here,” the silver-haired omega snaps.
Once Tadashi and Tsukki reach the others, they peer over Sugawara to see a man lingering outside their yellow front door smoking a cigarette. Foreign beta pheromones soil their alley. Skinny black jeans pull around stick-like legs, with a cotton button-down shirt tucked in at the waistline. The sleeves of his purple blazer are rolled to the elbow, showcasing traditional tattoos of demons and dragons. Crosses and chains dangle from his ears, and his blonde hair sits above a brown undercut.
The stranger smirks, unperturbed by the omega’s less than amicable welcome. “Don’t get your ovaries in a twist, cutie. I was in the neighbourhood visiting Kiyoko-chan and figured I may as well pick up your contribution for the month while I’m here.”
“You’re a week early.”
“Is that a problem?”
“Yes. I don’t have the money right now. You’re going to have to come back in a week.”
The stranger shrugs, flicking his cigarette and crushing it with his combat boot. “Suit yourself, but if you don’t have it by then you know I’ll have to tell The Don.”
“I’ll have the money,” Sugawara says stiffly.
The blonde’s eyes sweep over the children behind the omega as he approaches. They settle on Tadashi and the man winks at him.
He gapes. Kageyama and Hinata shift uncomfortably, and Tsukki’s eyes narrow.
“You’ve got a few cuties here. Any interested in making a bit of money on the side?” His voice coils around Tadashi’s skin and makes it crawl.
Hinata bounces on his feet, his hand in the air. “Oh, oh! I am, I am!”
Kageyama slaps a hand over Hinata’s mouth and yanks him under his arm. The ginger makes a confused whimper.
“He’s not,” Sugawara says, waving his hands in distress. “He’s really not. Hinata doesn’t know but he’s talking about.”
Hinata continues to struggle in Kageyama’s grip, but the taller boy has a strong hold on him.
The stranger shrugs. “Pity. Well, you little ones call me if you ever change your minds. With you faces, you could make some serious dough.”
The blonde beta pulls out a business card and offers it to Tadashi. He accepts it without even thinking, only for Sugawara to snatch it from his fingers. “I don’t think so. Next time call before you show up, Yuuji.”
“Nice seeing you too, Kou-chan. I’ll catch you next week. Remember to include your whole household income this time. Not just yours and Sawamura’s.”
The omega grimaces. “Yes.”
The man named ‘Yuuji’ swaggers away, but the kids aren’t given much time to watch him before Sugawara is ushering them into the apartment. Hinata whines about wanting to help his pack earn more money, but Sugawara quickly shuts him down, tearing the business card into tiny pieces and shoving it in the trash.
Chapter 5: The Trauma in Green (Part I)
Notes:
Light TW:
- References to death, trauma and non-consensual kissing towards the end
Chapter Text
Kageyama acts weird from the moment he wakes up.
Not that he isn’t weird most of the time. Especially in the morning when, after cuddling all night, Kageyama immediately remembers that he is a robot incapable of expressing human emotion and goes on pretending Shouyou is the most annoying person to ever be conceived. No, he’s gotten used to that by now.
It’s been a year since they joined Karasuno.
Aside from a few hiccups along the way, Shouyou would say they’ve fallen into the rhythm of being in a pack fairly well. Kageyama is still stupid sometimes, and Tsukishima is still an ass whenever the opportunity presents itself, but for the first time in Shouyou’s life, he gets to go about his day knowing that he’s loved. He has family! He has people he can talk to about stuff. It’s awesome! It’s like—like the perfect kick that lands at just the right spot with just the right amount of force—only it’s all the time instead of sometimes.
But when Shouyou wakes up next to Kageyama this morning, something feels off. It’s winter, but Kageyama’s way too hot. It’s like lying next to a furnace!
“You look like shit,” Tsuki-shithead tells Kageyama when they join the breakfast table.
“Fuck off.”
“Hey! No swearing!” Sugawara is running late for work, so he’s not fussing as much over them like he usually does. It’s only his second day after the big promotion. He’s gone from kindergarten teacher’s assistant to kindergarten teacher. “Crap. Okay, you boys get yourselves to school. I’ve gotta go.”
He kisses Sawamura on the cheek, ruffles the heads of Yamaguchi and Nishinoya, and goes flying out the door.
Their leader frowns at Kageyama. “You do look a little pale. Are you sure you’re well enough to go to school today?”
“I’m fine. Just a little tired.”
Bakageyama might not be lying when he says that. Normally Shouyou’s the one kicking and muttering in his sleep, but last night Kageyama couldn’t get comfortable. This meant Shouyou didn’t sleep too well either. At some point Kageyama turned over and dragged Shouyou with him, causing him to be squashed beneath his heavy body. It took pinching him in the thigh to get to him off. He hopes he left a bruise.
It’s a chilly morning. Enough to wear his hoodie and sweater underneath his uniform. They’re officially second-years. Tanaka and Nishinoya use almost every breath they take to remind everyone that they’re third-years and The Most Handsome Senpai this Side of San Tokyo.
God. They’re so cool!
Kageyama breathes heavily next to him, wiping sweat away from his forehead.
Shouyou clings to Kageyama’s elbow, pouting. “You are sick.”
“Shut up, no I’m not.”
He rolls his eyes. Why would Kageyama want to go to school anyway? It’s not like he’s good at it or anything!
“Hey Tanaka?” Yamaguchi speaks up. “How come everyone knows who Sawamura is, but no one seems to respect him?”
Tanaka kicks a stone and it ricochets off a trashcan lid, scaring off a cat and a bird that were arguing over a piece of week-old meat. “Daichi is the youngest Grandmaster in the prefecture, and the only Grandmaster who has his own rogue pack. All the others are from well-off families in Middle and Upper Tokyo.”
“Yeah, so?”
“The most sacred rule we live by as a pack under the protection of a Don is that we never involve civilians in our business. No dating civilians, no recruiting civilians, and no hiring civilians to do your dirty work. To be a rogue is to start at the bottom with nothing and claw your way to the top. That’s how it is, and that’s how it’ll always be here.”
The freckled beta readjusts the straps of his bag. “You’ve lost me. What does this have to do with Sawamura?”
“Daichi was invited to be a part of Don Ushijima’s pack the day he earned his final stripe, and apparently, he said no.”
Kageyama trips and Shouyou catches him before he falls over. “I really think you should—”
“Shut up.” Kageyama tells him to shut up all the time, but never like that. “Just mind your own damn business.”
So Shouyou does just that. He minds his own damn business.
And then halfway through science class, Kageyama faints. Shouyou takes him to the nurse’s office, but not before saying: ‘I told you so.’ At this stage he’s barely standing. Which is awkward for Shouyou because Kageyama is much bigger than him, and it takes a lot just to help him down the stairs.
The nurse takes one look at Kageyama and says, “You’re Presenting. I’m calling your parents.”
“Don’t have parents,” Kageyama groans as Shouyou eases him into a chair.
“We have a pack leader,” Shouyou explains.
The nurse nods, getting Sawamura’s number off Shouyou and immediately calling him. Kageyama rests his head in his hands. Shouyou takes a step away. It doesn’t feel like there’s anything else he can do to make things better for him. He’s also afraid that if he frets too much, Kageyama will snap at him again.
The nurse orders Shouyou to go back to class before Sawamura arrives. She doesn’t give a reason, and Shouyou doesn’t need a reason. Every fibre of his body is already telling him to get the hell away from Kageyama. It’s an instinct, like how a rabbit knows a fox is a threat as it stalks across the grassy fields.
When they get home that day the apartment is quiet. The pulldown staircase isn’t out like it usually is, and Sugawara is by the sink, his eyes distant.
Even though he’s getting a weird solemn vibe surrounding the omega, he can’t help but burst with the number of questions that have been bugging him all day. “Is Kageyama OK? The nurse said he’s Presenting, is that true? Is that why he was sweating so much? What is he Presenting as? Do you know? Where is he now? Upstairs? Does he need anything?”
“He’s going through the spike right now.” Sugawara ignores his other questions, but Shouyou doesn’t care.
“What’s ‘the spike’?”
Tsukishima snorts. “Don’t you ever pay attention in class?”
“It’s a fever you get before you Present,” Sugawara replies softly.
Nishinoya groans, dropping his school bag by the door. “I hated the spike. Mine lasted six whole hours!”
“Mine lasted seven!” Tanaka sticks his head in the refrigerator.
“Oi, it’s not a competition, asshat!”
“Well if it were a competition, Azumane would take the prize.”
The alpha scratches the back of his head, uncomfortable with the sudden attention. “Mine was eight hours. It was …” he shivers “… traumatic.”
“How long did yours last, Tadashi?” Nishinoya asks.
“Um, only four, I think.”
“Woah! That’s super lucky!”
“Y-Yeah. It happened at night too, so when I woke up, I was convinced I’d been dreaming until I realised I could smell scents.”
“Ugh, some people got it so easy!” Tanaka pulls out a box of ice-cream mochi. “But I guess it’s not all bad. Being betas has some benefits.”
Oh, Shouyou remembers now. Mr Goto explained it to them in health class. But he called it ‘the fever’ not ‘the spike’. Presenting is split up into two stages: the first is a period of time (anywhere from a couple of hours to a day) where symptoms of fever, headache, stomach ache, sweating and nausea overwhelm the body’s system; and the second stage is known as ‘the wave’, where if they Present as an alpha, they have their first rut, and if they Present as an omega, they have their first heat. Betas only go through a brief recovery period Mr Goto described as a ‘bad hangover’ before their system stabilises and they can go about business as usual.
Shouyou cocks his head to the side. “I wonder what Kageyama will be?”
“If he’s an omega, I’ll never let him live it down.” Tsukishima sighs wistfully, as if mentally thumbing through all the possibilities for omega Kageyama to be the object of ridicule.
“Nah, I reckon he’s a beta. He’s got the moxie for it,” Tanaka puffs.
Looking up at Sugawara, Shouyou notices the sadness in his eyes. He tugs at his sleeve. “Sugawara? Are you OK?”
“Y-Yes. Sorry, am I acting weird?” Sugawara smiles down at him warmly. “I just get distracted whenever one of you are in pain. It’s like I can’t think straight.”
“He’ll be fine. It’s Kageyama we’re talking about!”
The omega pats down his apron and nods. “You’re right. He’s a strong boy—you’re all strong. Now go wash your faces and get ready for tutoring. Sakusa-san will be here soon.”
*
Kageyama ends up Presenting as an alpha.
No one is surprised by this. And as much as Shouyou wishes he were surprised by it, he isn’t. It takes four days before Kageyama comes downstairs, and even though his Kageyama-isms are the same, and he looks the same, and everything about him is indicating that he’s the same, Shouyou can tell something’s changed.
It’s not immediately obvious to Shouyou, probably because he can’t smell scents or be influenced by pheromones yet. With his Presented packmates (which would be everyone but Tsukishima now), they’ve noticed the change as well, and have begun treating Kageyama differently because of it.
It’s subtle, but not subtle enough to slip by Shouyou.
Yamaguchi tilts his head whenever Kageyama speaks, like whatever he has to say is super important and worth his full attention; Nishinoya and Tanaka praise him for his budding masculinity and treat him with newfound respect; Sawamura and Azumane talk more candidly with him about Secret Alpha Things that apparently Shouyou isn’t allowed to be a part of; and Sugawara isn’t as protective over him (but he still dotes on him as much as he does the rest of them).
Kageyama’s demeanour has changed a bit too. He sits straighter, he holds his head a little higher, and there’s a look in his eyes that makes Shouyou want to shy away from him.
Which is dumb. He’s just plain old Kageyama with his frowning and his scowling and moping.
It’s not until Shouyou tries to interact with him that he realises he’s not the same Kageyama of four days ago. When Kageyama looks at him, it’s like he’s seeing through him. When he talks to him, it’s brief and detached.
Like they’re strangers.
When they’re setting up their futons that night, Kageyama takes his and marches to the other side of the room, far away from his regular spot next to Shouyou. Before anyone can comment, Kageyama has lain down his futon, fluffed his pillow, and turned his back to the rest of the pack.
Shouyou stares. Sadness and hurt seep a little deeper inside him with each passing second until he’s made silent by it.
A hot flush burns his cheeks. He ignores the curious glances from the others as he sets up his futon, unintentionally following the newly Presented alpha’s example and turning his back on everyone so he doesn’t have to make conversation with them.
The lights go out and the pack settles in. Shouyou waits until he’s certain they’re all sound asleep before he lets the pain in.
It starts with a sniffle. Then a hiccup. Shoulders shaking.
Then he’s crying into his pillow, trying to be as quiet as possible.
He doesn’t understand. Kageyama knows he can’t sleep without somebody else. Why is he acting this way? Why is it suddenly different now? Did all these years together really mean so little to him? Does he think he’s too good for him now that he’s an alpha?
The coldness takes shape inside his chest. Familiar to the contours of his soul, it starts to travel, dragging with it the sensation of crippling isolation and vulnerability that came with sleeping alone on the streets in a dangerous city. While children with loving parents were rocked to sleep by lullabies, Shouyou never slept deeply, frightened by the stories of strays being kidnapped and sold to people with nasty intentions. He was so unintimidating that even the rats that scurried across his feet weren’t scared of him.
A hand touches his shoulder and he flinches. It’s Sugawara. He hadn’t even heard the omega get up he’s so distraught.
“S-Su-ga.”
A hand cups his cheek. He leans into it, needing the affection so badly. “Shouyou, what’s wrong?”
He doesn’t speak—refuses to. Only Kageyama knows his secret. He’s not sure he’s in the right state of mind to explain it to Sugawara.
When the omega doesn’t get an answer, he quietly slides under Shouyou’s comforter and pulls the younger boy towards him. Sugawara seems to know exactly what Shouyou needs in that moment, and he’s so thankful for the omega’s weird, telepathic maternal instincts. He could be on the other side of country, coming down with a cold, and he’d probably get a call from Sugawara asking if he’s OK.
Shouyou nuzzles the older boy’s throat like he used to with Kageyama. He almost jumps out of his skin when the omega starts purring.
Sugawara kisses the top of his head. “It always hurts me to see you cry. But you don’t have to tell me why you’re hurting right now—not if you don’t want to. Just close your eyes. We’ll talk in the morning.”
Gripping the fabric of Sugawara’s pyjamas shirt, he asks, “Y-You won’t—”
“I’ll be right here, I promise. I won’t go anywhere.”
His whimpers turn into sniffles, lulled by the omega’s hums and purrs. A hand rubs circles into his back while the other cards through his hair.
And Shouyou’s last thought before he gets pulled under is of those lullabies sung to children by parents who love them.
*
Shimizu watches Karasuno’s little ginger come barrelling out into the street from across the road. He’s in his gi, his hair as orange as the belt tied around his waist. And that’s as far as her interest goes before her eyes dip back down to her phone.
Sorry, caught in traffic xx
This isn’t what she needs right now. A late client on a blistering hot day in June. Even under the shade of her umbrella she’s cooking.
“Shimizu-san?” She looks up. Hinata Shouyou stares back at her, curious, as always.
“Yes?”
“What’s it like being an omega?”
Bit of a personal question to ask someone you barely know. She’s conflicted. Calling the kid ‘rude’ would be undermining Sugawara and Sawamura’s parenting skills. And she likes them. And she wouldn’t want to make any bad assumptions about them. And the kid seems genuinely curious.
But also, no.
“Why don’t you ask Sugawara-san?”
Hinata shrugs. “I don’t think he’d give me an honest answer.”
“And why do you think that?”
“Because he loves me.”
That stings a little to hear. Because she understands. She understands all too well what it’s like to never get a straight answer from someone who just wants to protect you. But since Hinata had the courage to ask, and because she doesn’t feel any qualms telling it straight to this kid, she says: “Every stray is born a little broken, Hinata. You can drown yourself in ambition, alcohol or desire, but at the end of the day, we’ll never be like the rest. I learnt that pretty young. I thought I knew how the world worked by the time I Presented, but I was wrong. Presenting as an omega meant I had to recontextualise how the game is played, and had to learn new strategies to get ahead.”
The boy cocks his head to the side. “Game?”
The squeal of tires comes zooming around the corner. She rolls her eyes. Muffled music blasts from inside the Cadillac as it bites the curb in front of her. The window rolls down.
“Oh, it’s Kou-chan’s kid. This brat bothering you, sweetheart?”
She prays for patience. “No, Yuuji.”
“Good to hear. Get in, we’re goin’ to Katsumichi’s. You—ginger boy. You still looking for a way to make cash? Offer’s still available.”
Hinata toys with his belt, shaking his head shyly. “Sugawara said no.”
Yuuji shrugs. “Have it your way.”
She opens the passenger side door then turns to look at Hinata, who’s confused. It’s cute. “Keep your pack close, Hinata. They’re the only thing standing between you and the wolves.”
*
They’ve just finished their last day of school before summer holidays and Shouyou should be happy. But he can’t bring himself to be happy because of stupid Tsuki-shitface.
He glares at the back of his head.
“No matter how hard you stare, my head’s gonna stay securely on my shoulders.”
He crosses his arms over his chest and glares harder.
Another alpha! Unbelievable! It went from two alphas in the pack to double that, and now Shouyou’s the only one Unpresented! This blows!
And of course Tsukishima also has to be a dumb alpha just like Kageyama. Now they can both be brooding angry meatheads together. Just months before his fifteenth birthday and BAM, Tsukishima gets hit with the spike and suddenly he’s got the whole week off school and everyone’s babying him. Just in time for summer holidays too. Oh, and the look he had on his face when he finally came downstairs after Presenting. He looked Shouyou straight in the eye and said, “Guess I’ll be the last alpha to Present in this pack.”
Other than Tsukishima’s jerk-dial being turned up to a hundred now that he’s got his A-card, their relationship has held steady. Which is … frustrating.
If being an alpha still makes Tsukishima the same dickhead he’s always been, why has it changed Kageyama so much?
The boy in question walks on ahead of them, his hands in his pockets. It’s been seven months since Kageyama Presented. They’ve always been together, standing side by side, but now it feels as though he’s unreachable. Holding hands, cuddling, whispering to each other in the dark, racing each other to school—all those moments are like phantom memories sneaking into his daydreams every so often to torment him. And what’s worse is he can’t escape it. Because Kageyama is always there. Always walking in front of him.
Kageyama’s interactions with the pack have shifted slightly too. He hangs out with Azumane more now than he ever did before. He also has a lot of private talks with Sawamura.
Maybe if he Presents as an alpha, things will go back to normal. Kageyama will pay attention to him and everything will be great and they can cuddle and hold hands again!
Simple. He can do that.
Easy.
Something moves out the corner of his eye and he looks down the mouth of an alley to see a dog chewing on the foot of a mannequin. Weird. Curiosity tugs him into the alley to get a better look.
“Hinata?”
Ignoring Yamaguchi, he breezes past the usual suspects of weird fluids, garbage bags and food scraps. The mannequin is further in, peeking out from piles of garbage like it was left there in a hurry.
He halts suddenly. Oh. Oh no. It’s not a mannequin.
Even though he knows he should leave, he can’t get his legs to move, nor can he take his eyes away from the pale, open-eyed corpse that lays naked on a bed of trash. Yamaguchi follows, stopping behind Shouyou and letting out a piercing scream. The alphas are alerted and inadvertently invited onto the gruesome scene. Kageyama inhales sharply and pulls Shouyou against him, as if to shield him from it. It’s the first time the alpha has touched him since he Presented. He can’t even enjoy it.
They end up running the rest of the way home. They find Sugawara in the bathroom bleaching the bathtub and stumble over each other trying to explain everything. It’s so loud and chaotic that the omega has to calm them all down long enough to figure out what the four of them are saying. When he does, he reluctantly calls the police.
Nobody outright discloses to Shouyou why the body is in the alley, but he picks up snippets here and there from the officers that come to take their statements. Three pieces of information stick out to him the most: “omega”, “sexually-motivated”, “died of shock”.
He hangs around Shimizu’s regular spot when she’s waiting on clients—or used to. He hasn’t seen her lately. Yamaguchi and Tsukishima are inside, and Tanaka, Nishinoya and Azumane just got back from school and are loitering in the alley talking to the cops.
As an extrovert, he thrives off the company of his pack, especially when emotions are high, but he can’t stomach the thought of explaining what happened, why he entered that alley in the first place, or why he’s the cause of all this trouble. Sugawara and Sawamura don’t like the police. He heard them say so once, but they never explained why. And now their area is crawling with them.
All because he walked into that alley.
Sinking to the pavement, he rests his head against the concrete wall. Red and blue light up the street and scare away everyone within a mile-radius. Maybe hating cops isn’t just a Sugawara/Sawamura thing. Maybe it’s a Lower Tokyo thing.
“Hey.”
Kageyama is standing, looking away because he hasn’t been able to look Shouyou in the eye for seven months.
Shouyou finds interest in a crack in the sidewalk. “Here to tell me off?”
“Tell you—what? No? Why would I tell you off?”
“Because I’m the one who found the body. I caused trouble.”
“You wouldn’t be you if you weren’t causing trouble.”
He scowls. “Are you done?”
Against his expectations, the alpha sits next to him. “Are you … How are you feeling?”
He hugs his knees to his chest. It’s a complicated question. On the one hand he feels everything you would expect to feel after looking at a corpse—sickness, fear, anguish—but there was also something else. Something that sits stronger than the image of the body in his mind. Instead, he thinks of his conversation with Shimizu; he thinks of the day he met Oikawa; he thinks of his wilting relationship with Kageyama; and he thinks of the joke Tsukishima made yesterday.
“It feels like this is the beginning of something terrible,” he whispers.
“What do you mean?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs.
“Just don’t think too much about it,” Kageyama says dismissively. “It’s normal in Lower Tokyo. The officers don’t look surprised at all—”
“What are you doing?”
Kageyama blinks. “What?”
“What you are doing?” Shouyou glares at the alpha. “Seven months you’ve ignored me, and you think now is the best time to comfort me? Are you completely out of your mind? Do me a favour and leave me alone.”
Sudden anger twists Kageyama’s expression, and the change is so abrupt Shouyou is left momentarily stunned. The alpha fists the front of his shirt, pulling him violently towards him until their noses are almost touching.
“You think this has been easy for me? You think I ignored you because I wanted to?
“I don’t know, you tell me!” He grabs the front of Kageyama’s shirt, pulling to the point of trying to choke him. “One day you’re my best friend, the next you’re suddenly too good for me. Do you have any idea how painful it’s been for me?”
“Painful for you?” Kageyama snarls, shaking him. “You fucking—unbelievable! Don’t talk about shit you don’t understand!”
“Then help me understand, asshole!”
“I can’t!”
“Why? Is it because I’m not good enough for you?”
“No!”
“Then why the fuck not?”
It’s then that Shouyou becomes uncomfortably aware of how close their faces are. They’re both panting, there’s sweat breaking out on Kageyama’s forehead and Shouyou’s hands won’t stop shaking.
And then Kageyama’s lips are pressing harshly against his own. Their teeth knock together and he gasps. An arm snakes around his waist and a hand cradles the back of his head, pulling him flush against Kageyama. And this is something he’s been wanting for a long time. Longer than he’s ever willing to admit. But this isn’t how he imagined their first kiss. In his dreams they were soft and tentative; Kageyama hesitating at every turn and Shouyou being gently encouraging.
But this kiss isn’t anything like that. It’s rough and desperate and Shouyou just … stills. He can’t respond—doesn’t know how to respond.
Kageyama can’t seem to get a clue. His lack of reciprocation only seems to spur him to try harder. He bites down on Shouyou’s bottom lip, he digs his fingers into Shouyou’s ribs, he tries getting his tongue between Shouyou’s teeth. And then a flash of the body in the alley pops into Shouyou’s head.
With as much strength as he can muster, he shoves Kageyama away. “Stop! Stop it! You’re hurting me!”
Those seem to be the magic words because Kageyama freezes. He snaps out of whatever came over him, looking down at Shouyou in horror.
“Oh no, Sawamura was right.”
“Right about what?” Shouyou demands, but the alpha shoves him off and backs away.
“I—I …” Kageyama looks caught between an apology and an explanation, but instead of doing either of those things, he spins around and disappears back into the alley, leaving Shouyou on the pavement with aching flesh and a bleeding lip.
Chapter 6: The Trauma in Green (Part II)
Notes:
TW: SUPER heavy chapter, would recommend reading this when you're in the right headspace. There's a conversation mentioning sexual assault and a botched abortion, and also panic attacks!!
Chapter Text
Today would probably go in Tobio’s Top 5 Worst Days Ever.
Ideally he would avoid Hinata until he grows old and dies, but living in a tiny apartment with the ginger makes this impossible. He goes to watch TV, Hinata is there; he leaves the bathroom, Hinata is there; he lies in bed, and Hinata is there. Being the only member of the pack with bright orange locks also makes him a beacon for attention. Even when he isn’t looking at Hinata he can still see him out the corner of his eye.
It was only yesterday when The Incident happened. He doesn’t know what he was thinking—forcing a kiss on Hinata after they’d just suffered a traumatic event. Kissing his childhood crush shouldn’t have even crossed in his mind!
But it’d been so long since they’d spoken, and the circumstances didn’t matter to him in that moment. All he could think about was how close they were sitting, and how close their faces were, flushing with pent-up anger and confusion …
And then his lips were against Hinata’s. He’d wanted it for so long that when it was finally happening it consumed him entirely. There wasn’t any room for thought or consideration, because the frustration he’d been choking on for seven long months was finally gone, and bliss took its place. At least for a brief moment.
“Stop! Stop it! You’re hurting me!”
The nausea turns his stomach at the memory, fresh and raw like a wound getting picked by a crow.
Last night, Tobio didn’t sleep. Most of them hadn’t. Yamaguchi woke up screaming and Sugawara ended up with the beta and Hinata coiled up against him in his futon. And even though Tsukishima likes to peddle the narrative that he isn’t scared of shit, the blonde’s breathing remained shallow throughout the night.
He’d be lying if he said the body in the alley hadn’t affected him too. It had, but that wasn’t what was keeping his eyes glued to the ceiling.
At some point he’d gotten up to splash his face in the bathroom sink. It was summer, but the cold sweat that stained his t-shirt wasn’t from the heat. Catching his reflection in the mirror, he suddenly had the irrational urge to shatter it. Since Presenting, he’d been full of irrational urges. Only this time he had the sense to turn the light off and drag himself back to bed.
All the next day, Hinata is quiet. Tanaka and Nishinoya try their best to cheer him up by inviting him to the arcade, but he doesn’t bite. Instead, Hinata chooses to spend his first day of the summer holidays on the couch watching TV.
It’s hard listening to the rest of the pack speculate when they only have half the puzzle pieces. Tobio knows Hinata didn’t tell anybody about their fight, otherwise he’d be copping a lot of flak right now.
“Maybe I should go talk to him,” Sugawara says, frowning at the stairs. “Yesterday was a lot to process, but he almost looks … depressed.” The omega’s words soften to a whisper, as though he’d just said a dirty word.
Sawamura wraps his arms around his boyfriend and rests his chin on his shoulder. Tobio watches this exchange from the table while he’s trying to get a head start on summer homework.
“We all deal with things differently,” Sawamura murmurs. “He’ll come to us when he’s ready to talk.”
Tobio realises he’s nearly gnawed off the end of his pencil and grimaces. The words on the page shift and glue together until he can’t understand any of it. He’s read over the last sentence three times now and it’s still not sticking.
“Kageyama?”
He blinks and rubs his face. “Hm?”
“Are you OK?” Damn, nothing gets past the omega, does it?
“M’fine.”
“We have our meeting tonight, don’t forget,” says Sawamura. “Straight after my last class.”
Ever since Tobio joined the ‘alpha circle’, he’s been having private meetings with Sawamura and Azumane to help him through stuff. It’s mostly just a chance for him to ask for advice on certain topics he’d feel too awkward to look up at the local library or ask a classmate about. The gatherings have been more frequent with Tsukishima’s recent Presentation; they basically have to go through much the same process as they did with Tobio, only now he gets to use his own experience as a passage of wisdom.
If only Tsukishima would take anything he says seriously. The bastard.
Tsukishima’s timing was impeccable. So impeccable Tobio’s not convinced the blonde hadn’t somehow planned it.
School won’t start again until the end of August, so he doesn’t have to deal with the usual rounds of attention that come with someone who’s newly Presented; and he also won’t be under the scrutiny of Sugawara now either. The likelihood of a teenage alpha getting kidnapped in Lower Tokyo is almost zero. The added benefit of being taller than most adults probably brings that percentage down even further, which gives Tsukishima the freedom to go wherever he pleases, so long as he always lets Sawamura and Sugawara know where he is.
At around 2ish, Tsukishima and Yamaguchi leave to get ice cream and go to the park. Nishinoya, Tanaka and Azumane are somewhere—either still at the arcade or up to no good. And Tobio is at home staring at his homework.
It occurs to him that maybe he’s using his homework as an excuse to be in the house with Hinata, but he quickly shoves that thought aside.
And so the day goes by at a snail’s pace.
It’s nearing 11pm; Sawamura’s adult class is coming to a close. Tsukishima and Tobio loiter by the stairs while Azumane helps with some of the newer students.
Tsukishima yawns. “Stop moving. You’re annoying me.”
Tobio shifts his weight onto his other foot and scowls. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Hinata’s a bad influence on you.”
His heart drops into his stomach. Even his name makes him uneasy. “What?”
“Fidgeting, flighty, agitated. You’ve got all the symptoms of one Hinata Shouyou. Soon you’ll be losing height and sprouting orange hair—then it’ll be too late. The disease will’ve spread too far.”
“Shut up.”
The blonde alpha smirks, pleased with himself. “As you command, Your Majesty.”
They enter after all the students have filed out of the dojo. Sawamura is kneeling, still in his gi, and Azumane is putting away some of the equipment in the storage closet. The leader gestures for them to kneel in front of him, his smile kind. Light-headed and sick to his stomach, his feet carry him on autopilot.
“What you saw yesterday was shocking, and I’m sure you’re both going through a tough time. But please know that if either of you want to talk about your feelings, I’m here if you need—and so is Koushi and the rest of the pack. As alphas we are expected to shoulder a lot responsibility, and to do it quietly. But we’re only human. It’s important to take care of our own emotional and mental wellbeing so that we can be the best versions of ourselves for the people we love and protect.”
Tobio fists the fabric of his shorts. A droplet travels down his temple and wells at the tip of his chin. Much like when he was hunched over his homework, his vision blurs. The promise he’d made to Sawamura stings worse than ever, clamping down on his lungs and suffocating him.
A tear lands on his knuckles.
“Kageyama? What’s the ma—”
“I did something bad!” he bursts, looking up at Sawamura’s shocked face. “I did something bad and I don’t know how to make it better.”
The tears turn fat down his cheeks and he can’t stop them. His bottom lip quivers as he chokes down a sob, pain pinching between his brows as he squeezes his eyes shut.
“What happened?” Their leader’s voice is calm.
“I broke our promise. I couldn’t stay away,” he stutters. “I spoke to Hinata.”
On the last day of Tobio’s first rut, Sawamura came up to the lounge room to see him. It wasn’t out of the blue. Once his alpha status was made apparent, his leader visited him a few times to make sure he was doing OK. But the last time he was very serious.
“You need to keep your distance from Shouyou. Not permanently—just until you can control yourself. Otherwise you might accidently hurt him.”
His immediate reaction was to dismiss Sawamura’s concerns. Hurt Hinata? You could drop Hinata off a ten-storey building and he’d spring back up and say it was fun. But over the course of Tobio’s first day back with the pack, he began to realise what Sawamura meant.
Though he loathed to admit it, he was emotional. And not the sappy kind of emotions either—no, he was brimming with anger. The littlest things frustrated him—things that never bothered him before he Presented, like Tanaka talking with cereal in his mouth, or Yamaguchi taking forever to spit out what he wants to say, or Azumane apologising for literally everything.
He also felt powerful.
Before becoming an alpha, he would’ve thought that’d be a good thing. Who wouldn’t want to be powerful, to be the one in control?
But when he looked at Hinata, that power frightened him to tears. Because suddenly he was aware of how easily he could hurt Hinata. He could hug him too hard and snap his spine; he could shove him and he might stumble and hit the pavement; he could do just about anything with a little force and it could cause irreparable damage.
So for seven gruelling months, he’d pushed his friend away.
And the one time he invites him back in, he fucks it up.
“What did you do?” Sawamura’s voice is lower and a little less gentle. Tobio flinches.
“I kissed him. I … I didn’t know he wasn’t kissing back until he told me to stop and that I hurt him.” He swallows. Then he falls forward and grips his hair. “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! You were right! I thought I was ready but I wasn’t. It just happened and I don’t know what the hell came over me!”
“Wow. Are there no lows you won’t sink to?” Tsukishima drawls. “I’m sure kissing you was at the top of Hinata’s priorities after he saw that dead body.”
“Shut up! You weren’t even there!”
“Do I need to be there? You forced a kiss on Hinata. There’s no further context needed.”
“It’s not like I thought I was forcing him.”
“Oh,” he rolls his eyes, “that makes it loads better. My apologies, Your Majesty.”
Something in Tobio finally snaps. He lunges at Tsukishima and the blonde falls on his back. He grabs a fistful of his shirt, his heart beating wildly in his ears.
“How many fucking times over the years? How many times? Don’t call me that.”
A wave of déjà vu hits him when he realises how close their faces are, much like it was yesterday with Hinata, only the urge to punch Tsukishima is a hundred times stronger than the urge to kiss him.
Tsukishima is unperturbed. In fact, he smirks as if he wants to see how far he can push this. “I’ll stop calling you that when you stop taking what you want from people, you know, like a king would.”
“I didn’t—”
“You didn’t what? Ask for consent? You’re deplorable—if you even know what that word means.”
“You know nothing of our relationship!”
“Enough to know even Hinata could do better than you.”
Just when he’s about to punch right through Tsukishima’s glasses, he’s flipped onto his stomach with his arm behind his back. It’s a manoeuvre he’s seen time and again in Sawamura’s classes, but never has he been on the receiving end of it.
“What’s the one rule of my dojo?” Sawamura asks. His voice is even but it turns Tobio’s stomach.
He shudders. “Never raise a hand to hurt the innocent.”
Can Tsukishima be innocent if he’s the spawn of the Devil?
“Sorry.” It’s the quickest way to get Sawamura off him. There are many things he’s sorry for today, but fighting with Tsukishima isn’t one of them.
Sawamura releases Tobio and he sits up, rolling his shoulder.
“Apologise to Kei.”
He glares. Tsukishima quirks an eyebrow expectantly. “I’m sorry.”
The blonde cups his ear, smile never dropping. “Huh? I didn’t catch that. You’re going to have to say it louder.”
“I’m …” he’s glaring so hard his head’s starting to throb “… sorry.”
“Good.” Sawamura relaxes his shoulders and Azumane breathes a sigh of relief. “Now, the moment we get home you’re going to go straight to Shouyou and apologise. You will explain to him why you’ve been avoiding him, and you’re welcome to blame me for it.”
“Does … does that mean I can talk to him again?”
The immediate answer he expects is ‘no’, especially after confessing the shitshow that went down yesterday, but Sawamura looks up at the ceiling thoughtfully.
“Maybe separating the two of you was a bit extreme. Just take it slow for now. We don’t want a repeat of yesterday.”
A tiny well of hope forms in his chest. He bows, barely keeping his shaking in check. “Thank you.”
As promised, the moment he walks through the door he heads straight to the bedroom. Well, after he gets a kiss on the cheek from Sugawara.
Nishinoya and Yamaguchi are on top of their futons listening to music and Tanaka is reading a magazine. The wooden fan click, click, clicks overhead.
“Out.”
Tanaka looks like he’s about to pass a kidney stone. “What’d you say you little—”
“Guys?” Sugawara’s sunny expression appears between the sliding doors. “Can you help me with the clothesline?”
Tanaka, Nishinoya and Yamaguchi take the hint and leave. Hinata is sitting on the futon he almost never sleeps in, fiddling with a Rubik’s cube.
Since Tobio went solo, Hinata has been sharing futons with practically everyone in the pack, but most nights he cuddles with Sugawara. The ginger will probably never know just how much he misses their nightly cuddles. It’s embarrassing the amount of times he’d rolled over, half-asleep, groping in the dark for a body that wasn’t there.
Tobio closes the sliding doors and sits on the futon in front of Hinata. The t-shirt he’s wearing is a tatty thing that sags over his shoulder. It used to be Sawamura’s back when he was in elementary school.
Hinata continues to fiddle wordlessly with the toy, but his heart isn’t in it.
Swallowing, Tobio reaches out and envelops Hinata’s hands in his own. Big, brown eyes look up into his, and he just wants to drown in them. Tsukishima’s comment wriggles to the front of his brain and deep down Tobio thinks he might’ve been right.
“I’m sorry.”
Hinata blinks. Then his jaw drops. “You—”
“Let me finish. I’m sorry I hurt you yesterday, and I’m sorry I’ve been hurting you ever since I became an alpha. And I’m sorry I stopped cuddling with you at night even though I knew how much you needed me.”
There’s a long pause afterwards. Hinata asks, “Are you done?”
His eyebrow twitches. “Is there something else I have to apologise for?”
Hinata bites back a smile. “No, I was just wondering.”
“So,” he rubs circles with his thumbs into Hinata’s skin, “do you forgive me?”
“Only if you promise to stop acting weird.”
He coughs. “Sawamura’s the one who told me to stay away from you. If anything, he should be apologising.”
Hinata cocks his head. “Should he?”
Tobio sighs. “No, I’m the idiot. Blame me.”
“Okay, but you didn’t give me an answer.” Hinata looks down at their hands. “Will you talk to me again? After today?”
He nods. “We just have to be careful. What happened yesterday—” he shakes his head “—I never want that to happen again. I was completely out of control and I put you in a very uncomfortable place and that’s … that’s not OK.”
“You were scary, you know.” Hinata grabs one of Tobio’s hands and strokes it softly. He isn’t concerned, only speaking matter-of-factly. “It’s like you became this whole other person that I didn’t even recognise. You weren’t my Kageyama.”
“I’m sorry—”
“Shh.” He puts his finger to his lips. “I forgive you. Also, help me with this Rubik’s cube. I can’t crack it.”
He raises his eyebrow sceptically. “And you think I can help you with it?”
“Sure! Two heads are better than one, right?” Hinata’s grin is so big that it leaves Tobio feeling warm and fuzzy inside.
The ginger places the cube in his hands and they work on it together until lights out. They don’t make much progress. He’s not even convinced they got any further than where Hinata began. But it didn’t matter.
They don’t cuddle that night, but Hinata insists on cuddling with Tanaka—who sleeps to the right of Tobio. It raises a few eyebrows. Tanaka is hands down the least ideal cuddle buddy in the entire pack because he snores like a foghorn.
In the humid darkness, while everyone sleeps, he sneaks his hand under Hinata’s comforter.
Hinata makes no indication that he notices. At least, not until Tobio feels Hinata link their pinkie fingers together.
*
The radio spits out channel after channel of pure static. Eventually Koushi gives up on trying to find a frequency that works and shuts it off. Shouyou is in the passenger seat. He hasn’t been the same since he saw the body in the alley. It’s making him worry, but the ginger refuses to talk about it. Daichi suggested they send him to therapy, but the only way they could get the money to afford it would be to ask The Don for a loan.
And yes, Shouyou’s mental health is important. Of course it is. But getting a loan from the most dangerous man on the South Side might do more harm to all of them in the long run.
“Sugawara?”
“Yes, Shouyou?”
Shouyou blinks slowly, watching the world go by in a haze. “What happened to Shimizu-san?”
The last time Koushi saw her was when she was waiting on the curb with a duffle bag over her shoulder and a suitcase at her feet. He’d promised Ryu he would wait with her until her ride came. Their parting conversation had been an interesting one.
“You need to tell it to him straight, Sugawara. You can’t protect him forever.”
“I don’t know how.”
“Sometimes honesty is the only way.”
“Ryu has a contact in the East Side and managed to get her a place in a better neighbourhood. She mentioned in passing that she was beginning to feel a little unsafe, like someone was stalking her so—he pulled some strings.”
“I’m glad.”
“Me too.” Koushi smiles. “Ryuunosuke will make someone very happy someday, don’t you think? I could imagine going to his wedding—it wouldn’t be anything fancy but, it’d be intimate. He’d look so handsome in a tuxedo.”
“You sound like a mum.”
Koushi laughs. “I feel like I am.” He reaches over and pinches Shouyou’s thigh, making him squeal. “Raising the lot of you takes up my whole life.”
“Yeah, but you’ll have kids of your own someday too, right? They’d turn out way cuter than Tanaka.”
Koushi’s face falls.
Shouyou notices immediately. “Sugawara …?”
“Sometimes honesty is the only way.”
“No, Shouyou. I won’t be having kids of my own,” he says slowly, as if not entirely convinced he should be taking the conversation in this direction.
“Huh? How come? You love kids!”
“I do.”
Shouyou scrunches his nose. “I don’t get it.”
“I was pregnant once.” There’s a pause. The exhaust pipe fills the silence. “There used to be a school that took in orphans—that’s where I met Daichi. The school isn’t around anymore. The government stopped funding it so we both had to drop out and pave our own ways in life. Two weeks before we started dating, I was raped by a teacher, and I got pregnant.”
Koushi keeps his eyes trained on the road, but he can feel Shouyou’s eyes burning into the side of his face. Gripping the steering wheel, he continues, “Clinical abortions are illegal, so I had to turn to more unorthodox methods. The procedure was done by the school nurse, but she didn’t know what she was doing and it was botched. My uterus was damaged and I was told I’d never have kids of my own.”
Shouyou leans forward, placing his head between his knees. He’s panting hard and pulling at his hair.
Koushi frowns, “Shouyou?”
But Shouyou doesn’t respond. He’s hyperventilating. At some point Koushi has to make a judgement call and pulls over. He takes their seatbelts off and rolls down the windows to let in fresh air, even though it’s cold outside.
“Hey.” He rubs circles on Shouyou’s back. “What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
Maybe telling him the truth was a bad idea. He thought that he was ready to listen, but that definitely doesn’t seem to be the case.
“Does—does Sawamura know?”
“No.”
“Oh.” It doesn’t settle Shouyou’s breathing. Not that he was expecting it to.
They sit there for a long time. Eventually Shouyou’s breathing evens out and he straightens, turning to wipe away his tears. They stare out the windshield, watching as a gust of wind kicks up a flurry of autumn leaves before propelling them into the gutter.
“When we found our own place, we had two options: start a rogue pack or start a family. I told him I wanted a rogue pack.”
“Have you told anybody else except me?” Shouyou asks quietly.
“No.”
“It must’ve been hard—keeping that to yourself for so long.”
“At times,” Koushi admits. “But I have my kindergarteners, and I have my pack. I have more love in my life than some people will see in a lifetime. I’m still undecided on whether I have the best or worst luck—maybe it’s a bit of both.”
“Why me?”
“Hm?”
Tiredness hangs heavy around the ginger’s eyes. “I’m glad you told me, but what made you tell me? Why not someone else? Like Azumane or Tadashi?”
“My biggest hope for you kids is that you know how terrible the world is, but never have to experience that terribleness for yourselves. That this knowledge somehow protects you in some way.” Koushi pulls back onto the road, eyeing the overcast skies. “I used to be naïve. I didn’t have anyone to turn to but Daichi, and I couldn’t tell him what happened—because at that point I was convinced I was damaged goods. When I finally overcame that awful thought, it already felt like too much time had passed and there was no way to bring it up.”
“So how am I supposed to learn from this?”
“Just—if something bad happens to you, you’ll speak up, alright?”
“Alright.”
“Good.”
“Also I think you’re wrong.”
“About what?”
Shouyou fiddles with his zipper. “I don’t think it’s too late to tell Daichi. Even if you told him the minute we got home—I think he’d understand. You’re soulmates.”
Oh god—he’s tearing up. This kid!
He clips Shouyou across the ear.
“Ow! What the hell? What’d you do that for?”
Koushi laughs, wiping away tears with his sleeve.
*
Voices screech into microphones that boom and fade with each room Daichi passes. A waitress holding an oval tray of drinks squeezes past him on the stairs, looking like she’s on the tenth hour of her shift. A group of drunk betas stumble their way to the bathrooms, the only things keeping them from their noses hitting the floor being each other.
Daichi is a creature of habit.
The little delights of the places he routinely visits are what make his days special. The apartment he shares with his pack and his dojo are his happy places. Long days feel well-spent, however trialling they may be.
Which is why he’s very uncomfortable right now.
Making the trip to Middle Tokyo is stressful enough as it is. Every leader of every rogue pack has a pass so they can come and go from Management. Each tier (Lower, Middle, and Upper) is gated by armed security, and only those with permits are allowed to travel freely between them. It’s meant as a way for the government to keep social classes separate and controlled. There are people who live, breathe and die in Lower Tokyo without ever catching a glimpse of Middle Tokyo, and the same applies to Middle and Upper Tokyo residents. Even though he does have permission to travel between Lower and Middle Tokyo, it still makes him nervous to be patted down and shepherded through a metal detector.
And now he’s in a karaoke bar, and it’s loud, and it’s busy, and he knows this location was Oikawa’s choice. It just has to be.
Daichi finds the room he’s been looking for on the fourth floor. He can hear Oikawa’s screeching from all the way down the hall.
There’s no point knocking. It wouldn’t be heard.
He walks straight into the karaoke booth. Oikawa is standing up, giving a soulful performance, while Iwaizumi sits back in his seat with a glass of whisky in his hand. Seijoh’s second acknowledges Daichi with a nod, but the leader barely spares him a glance. Awkwardly shuffling past the TV screen of a B-level romance drama with the song’s lyrics running across the bottom, he settles next to Iwaizumi.
“Did you have any trouble getting here?” Iwaizumi asks.
Oikawa shoots him an annoyed look and sings louder.
“No.”
“Do you want anything to drink?”
Koushi would be disappointed in him, but if he doesn’t have something to settle his nerves then he might not have the fortitude to get through this.
“A scotch?”
“On the rocks?”
“Straight, thanks.”
At the climax of the song, Oikawa puts his foot up on the table and gestures towards the ceiling.
It’s at that moment he thinks about home. They’d just gotten a kotatsu in time for the festive season, and he imagines his lovely boyfriend sitting at it with a set of knitting needles. He imagines Asahi curled up on the armchair reading poetry with a mug of hot cocoa, and Ryuunosuke and Yuu fighting over the remote. He imagines Tadashi falling asleep while trying to finish his homework and Kei draping a blanket over him so he doesn’t get cold. He imagines Tobio and Shouyou cuddling even though they haven’t done that in almost nine months.
It makes him yearn to return to them, but it also furthers his resolve.
Oikawa finishes his song just as the waitress comes in with Daichi’s scotch and some shots. Another song immediately starts and Daichi thinks: ‘Oh please, no’, but Oikawa mercifully pauses it.
“Quite the vocalist, aren’t I?” Oikawa flops down onto the couch and scoops up his cocktail.
“A true talent,” Daichi deadpans.
Oikawa pouts. “You’re too much like Iwa-chan. No fun at all.”
“I apologise if I came across as rude.”
Seijoh’s leader waves it off. “Enough of that. Your stiff pleasantries sicken me. Loosen up, loosen up! You’re here for a chat, aren’t you? Well—chat!”
“Ignore him. He’s drunk.”
“Am not!”
Daichi looks around as if expecting the booth to be bugged. “You weren’t followed, were you?”
Iwaizumi shakes his head. “Were you?”
“I don’t think so.”
Oikawa claps his hands. “Good! We’ve established Shiratorizawa isn’t sticking their noses in our business! Now let’s get down to it then: what brings you this side of the tide? You sounded pretty serious over the phone but—then again, you’re always serious.”
He downs his scotch in one gulp.
“Yikes. Are you in trouble or something?” Iwaizumi quirks an eyebrow.
The alcohol buzzes at the back of his head and warmth pools in his stomach. He chokes. It’s been a while. “I have a proposition I’d like to discuss.”
“And you didn’t have the sensibility to buy me dinner first? Dai-chan, I’m insulted.”
“We can’t be seen in public. The Don and his pack will have questions.”
“Questions you don’t want answered?” A cunning gleam passes across Oikawa’s gaze. “Enough of the foreplay, I can’t take it anymore! What’s your proposition?”
“I—” Don’t panic. Don’t you dare panic. Daichi swallows. “Things aren’t going well in Lower Tokyo right now—not that it was good before but—I have a lot more to worry about now that the younger ones have started Presenting. Things are tense. No one has space to breathe.”
“Oh yes—tell Tobio-chan I’m very proud to hear he’s an alpha! Though I knew from the beginning of course. I have a sixth sense about these things.” Seijoh’s leader taps his temple with a smirk. “Your other boy—blondie—he’s an alpha too. The word travels far! But four alphas packed together in that tiny little space with three still going through puberty? Sounds like a bit of a disaster in the making.”
Daichi sighs. “You’re right, I’m afraid. It was manageable with just me and Asahi, but it’s getting a little out of hand now. Rut cycles are beginning to overlap and we’re running out of spaces to separate them from the others.”
“Your omega is still unmarked too,” Oikawa tuts. “Never understood why you haven’t sealed the deal yet. You’ve been together forever.”
“Four years.”
Oikawa waves his hand. “As I said: forever.”
“I don’t believe in marking. It’s barbaric.”
“Think whatever you like. Being marked consensually is a luxury few omegas have. You’d be doing him a service.”
Daichi glares. “The word ‘consent’ is key. Koushi is against it.”
“Ah!” Oikawa claps. “So it’s him and not you who has a problem with it. Well, that is a pity. Ah well. It’s worked fine for the two of you so far, no? Now all you gotta do is make sure none of the other alphas in your pack accidently mark him and you’re golden!”
“Yeah …” That thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.
“I s’pose things are only going to get worse when Chibi-chan Presents as an omega, ey?”
“Ye—what?”
Oikawa swirls his drink around. “Chibi-chan … you know, Hinata or whatever.”
He frowns. “You think he’ll be an omega?”
“Dai-chan, I know he will be. Sixth sense—” he taps his temple “—re-mem-ber?”
“I disagree. Shouyou’s confident he’ll be an alpha.”
“And are you confident he’ll be an alpha?”
Oikawa and Iwaizumi stare at him expectantly. Daichi blanches. “A-Anything is possible!”
Seijoh’s leader snorts and downs a shot. “Okay, sure. Now what’s the point you were getting at?”
“I want to unite our packs.”
Daichi almost expects laughter, given the kind of mood Oikawa is in, but he doesn’t even so much as crack a smile. In fact, he looks like he saw this coming from miles away.
Oikawa puts down the shot glass. “I can see why you’d want that. We live comfortably in a big house in a safe neighbourhood, our younger members go to nice schools and we have access to better resources. But how would we benefit from this union, I wonder? I mean, I gave Tobio-chan the boot because he was a royal pain in my ass, and joining our packs would mean we’d be right back where we started with that dumpster fire. And Shiratorizawa will find out eventually, which will lead to inquiries. Seems more trouble than it’s worth.”
“Please.” Daichi runs his hands through his hair. “I don’t know what else to do.”
“Maybe instead of chumming it up with the packs of the West, you should’ve spent more time with your South Side buddies, hm?”
His heart sinks. “So it’s a ‘no’ then?”
“I never said that.” Oikawa eats the cherry in his cocktail. “I’m just pointing out the glaring inequities in this deal. However—you do have something that could be valuable to me. Well—two things, I guess.”
The playfulness in Oikawa’s gaze makes Daichi stiffen. “What?”
“Our pack has no omegas. It’s not a surprise but it’s disappointing. Akira was the last to Present—a beta. And you know how it goes. No one’s going to look at us with any level of respect without at least one omega under our belt.”
The politics of San Tokyo’s underbelly works differently to civilian politics. A rogue pack is only as strong as their status. Having lots of alphas is good, but have become the norm. Betas are a great balance, but too many can weaken a pack’s position. Since omegas who make it to maturity are so rare, having one or more in a pack is highly coveted. In Middle and Upper Tokyo, omegas wear pins in their hair to display their value: the black pin means they’re marked and not a virgin; the red pin means they’re marked and a virgin; the yellow pin means they’re unmarked and not a virgin; and the white pin means they’re unmarked and a virgin. White pins are the most sought after, as their scarcity makes them ideal tokens for negotiating with other rogue packs.
Personally, Daichi has always found this practice arbitrary, but he’s also made every effort to stay out of the politics of the upper echelon, and therefore lacks any appreciation for social status whatsoever.
“So you’re willing to consider joining because of Koushi?” he says slowly, uncomfortable with the turn of the conversation.
“And Chibi-chan.”
Oikawa’s intentions become clearer to him then: the leader is certain Shouyou will be an omega and—by extension—a white pin, meaning his addition to Oikawa’s pack will boost their social position considerably.
Daichi has an idea of where this is going but is willing to indulge the other leader anyway. “Name your terms.”
“Are you a betting man, Dai-chan?” Oikawa grins.
His shifts in his seat. “Depends on what that bet is.”
“If you’re so confident Chibi-chan won’t be an omega, then I’ll bet this union on it: if he isn’t an omega, I’ll let you and your pack move in the moment he’s Presented, and I’ll even let you be the leader. But,” Oikawa draws out the ‘t’ sound, “if he does Present as an omega, your pack can still join with mine, only I’m the leader, you have to break up with Suga-chan, and I get to use both omegas to get closer to Shiratorizawa. Sound fair?”
It’s clear Oikawa’s perpetual fixation with Don Ushijima is still going strong, even after all these years. He smiles dryly. “I’m sorry we couldn’t come to agreeable terms, Oikawa-san. Thank you for meeting with me anyway.”
Oikawa pouts, leaning back in his chair. “No fun.”
Rolling his eyes, Daichi pulls on his coat and gets to his feet. “I’m not letting you use my packmates as pawns in your little game of power.”
Oikawa shrugs. “Fine. But you’ll be back.”
“I doubt that.”
“Even when Shouyou Presents as an omega?” Daichi freezes with his hand on the doorknob. “Lower Tokyo is no place for a white pin, Dai-chan. You know that. The moment he Presents, the Southern packs will come sniffing, and you won’t be able to fend off all of them, will you?”
He looks over his shoulder at them. “There’s no point stressing over something that won’t happen.”
“Safe travels,” Iwaizumi calls after Daichi just as the door swings shut.
Chapter 7: Summertime Secrets
Notes:
Everyone who commented last chapter thank you so much! I'll get to responding to your messages soon I promise!!!
Chapter Text
Ryu grips the chain-link fence, staring intently at the sorry strip of shops opposite the Kawagashi High School grounds.
They’re on the cusp of another sweltering summer. Women in skirts and men in tank tops flood the streets of Lower Tokyo, but the people opposite the school are particularly provocative. A woman in her early twenties approaches the window of a car. Some words are exchanged, then she hops into the passenger side. The car drives off. He’s watched it happen half a hundred times with half a hundred different sex workers since the start of the new year. It’s almost like the school is near the red-light district as a warning: study hard or else you’ll end up across the street.
Ryu never really understood the stigma of prostitution. Isn’t it just a service like any other? If there’s a demand for sex, where’s the harm in filling that demand? As long as everything’s consensual …
Okay, maybe he’s a little biased because of Kiyoko.
Beautiful, amazing, elegant Kiyoko. He can’t help but sigh.
Did Kiyoko keep count of the number of clients she had? Was her business organised, or was it more of a ‘first come first serve’ affair? They’d shared a total of fifteen conversations together, but he never had enough courage to ask about her work. He knows what she did for a living—he’s not blind—but he didn’t want to come across as intrusive or entitled.
Guess it doesn’t matter now.
They haven’t really spoken much since she left, but at least she’s safe and happy. His stupid sister made sure of it.
“Stop thinking about her.” Ryu glares over his shoulder at Yuu.
The beta is in Asahi’s lap. They’ve been making out for the better half of lunchtime and frankly, Ryu would rather watch a cat cough up a hairball than watch the two of them at it.
Also, it makes him feel lonely. But he doesn’t tell them that.
They got together at the end of their first year (and Asahi’s second). Which is great. Ryu’s happy for them. Their ongoing will-they-won’t-they narrative was getting old even before they started high school, so he’s glad Yuu got his happily ever after instead of bitching about his unrequited love for another three years. But it also means Ryu has become a non-consenting third wheel in their triad. And since Kiyoko left, he can no longer entertain himself with the fantasy of getting with an older woman. Now he’s forced to wallow in his singleness every lunchtime.
It’s not like he couldn’t go hang out with Shouyou and the others. They just started their first year here. But then Yuu might get offended and ask him why he doesn’t want to hang with them anymore and he doesn’t want to start anything.
“I’m not thinking about her.” Ryu pushes off the fence and turns to lean against it, arms folding over his chest. “I’m thinking about summer holidays.”
Asahi nudges his nose against Yuu’s scent gland and he shivers. “Who you foolin’? Every time you think about her you’ve got that look on your face.”
Ryu scowls. “What look?”
“You know—ah! A look.”
Throwing his hands in the air. He gives up. If they want to make out that’s fine, but he’s not going to stand around and watch.
“Where’re you going?” Yuu calls after him.
“To study.”
“You? Study?”
He doesn’t answer. They’re disgusting. But he’d be disgusting too if he had someone all to himself.
Kawagashi High School isn’t much of a step up from its middle school counterpart. In fact, it’s much worse because everyone at this stage has Presented and hormones ooze from every crevice of the hallways and classrooms. The teachers are indifferent. They don’t get paid enough to care, so what little rules the school has aren’t enforced. There isn’t a single wall or bathroom stall that hasn’t been graffitied. Girls wear skirts halfway up their asses and boys walk around with their shirts untucked and their ties wrapped around their biceps.
It’s overall just a shitty place. And a major waste of time.
From the moment you walk into the school you feel like the world’s against you. The teachers are getting high off laughing gas in the staff room, and the principal is in a perpetual state of resignation. Even the janitor openly practices slip knots with a piece of string while putting off his duties.
What’s the point of succeeding when no one expects you to? The next generation of scientists and engineers won’t be graduating from Kawagashi, he can tell you that much.
“Don’t go frowning too much. The wind’ll change and you’ll stay like that forever.”
Ryu’d been in his own head to the point where he almost walks straight into a pole. A puff of smoke coils around his uniform, beckoning him. He turns to face the girl leaning against the wall of the gymnasium. She’s got a cigarette between her fingers and a little book wedged underneath her arm. Tall too—taller than Ryu, with short black hair and big black eyes. A distinctly alpha scent mixes with the tobacco and makes him feel light-headed.
Play it cool, play it cool. You can do this, Ryuunosuke. He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “I uh—was just thinking, a lot—I mean you know, I got a lot on my mind and stuff. Important stuff.” Okay, stop talking. You can’t do this.
He mentally kicks himself.
The girl giggles. It’s sweet and musical. “I’m sure you do,” but she doesn’t say it in a patronising way like he expects. She holds out her free hand. “My name’s Amanai Kanoka. Second year.”
A rock with a vendetta almost trips him over as he moves to shake her hand. “Tanaka Ryuunosuke. I’m also in second year. What class are you?”
“Class 2.”
“Ah, no wonder. I would’ve noticed you if you were in my class.”
She quirks an eyebrow. “Because I’m tall?”
“N-No! Because you’re—uh, well …” Ryu looks up at the sky and begs to be struck down. “I’m in Class 4.”
“D’you smoke?” She pulls out a pack of cigarettes and offers him one.
“I—um.” He gulps. An image of Daichi pops into his head. “My leader forbids tobacco in the apartment.”
“That’s too bad …” She seems disappointed.
“B-But I could try one?” No! You idiot!
Kanoka smiles at him doubtfully. “Are you sure?”
“Y-Yes!” Oh my god. Daichi is going to kill me. Then Suga’s going to resurrect me and kill me again.
The first puff he takes is like inhaling a spoonful of ash. She pats him on the back as he coughs and splutters. “It gets easier, I promise.”
And it does get easier after the fifth or sixth puff, but it doesn’t get any tastier. “Do you hang here every lunch?”
“Yeah, my best friend recently got herself a girlfriend.” She rolls her eyes. “Love her to bits, but now it’s like her girlfriend is suddenly her whole world, you know? It’s like, um hi? I exist still!”
“Same here! My best friends just started dating and now every lunch I’m just an awkward third wheel.”
“Two friends? Oof, that’s rough.”
He shrugs. “Can’t be angry with love, right?”
“Yeah, is it what it is.”
They end up sharing cigarettes behind the gym every lunch for the next couple of weeks. Whenever Yuu and Asahi get all googly-eyed and wrapped up in each other, Ryu goes wandering the courtyard, his feet always taking him to the spot where he knows she’ll be waiting. It’s not like he meant for Kanoka to become his friend. It just sorta happens.
And so does his smoking. But he has that under control! He swears!
“You smell like an ashtray,” Tsukishima remarks on their way home from school. It’s a month before holidays start, and everyone is already super stoked.
He blanches. “I do not.”
Curious, Yuu leans in and takes a strong whiff. “Fwah! Gross! You do smell like an ashtray, Ryu. What the fuck? Did you go swimming in a fireplace?”
“No! I’ve uh—” half-truths, half-truths “—I’ve been hanging out with a girl behind the gym. She smokes.”
“A girl?” Yuu frowns. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“What? Do I have to tell you every single thing that’s going on in my life now?”
“No, I just thought you’d tell me.”
“Well, I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”
Yuu wipes the sweat from his forehead and rolls his eyes. “Geez, whatever. What’s her name?”
“Amanai Kanoka. She’s second year like us.”
“Oh, what’s she like?”
“Super hot—she’s an alpha, too.”
“Huh.”
“What?”
Yuu shakes his head. “No, nothing. Just thought omegas were more your type, that’s all.”
He goes bright red. “Th-They are! I never said I’m interested in her.”
“You just called her ‘super hot’,” Kageyama points out bluntly.
“Yeah because it’s a fact, not an admission that I want to date her!”
“Okay, calm down hothead. We’re just curious,” Yuu snorts.
A car pulls up to the curb beside them but they pay it no mind. Until the window rolls down and some douche addresses Shouyou. “You go to Kawagashi, baby?”
The ginger stops. “Huh? Yeah?”
“How’re you liking it?”
“It’s OK, I guess—” the man reaches for Shouyou, but Tsukishima grabs the ginger and tucks him under his arm like a football. “Oi! Tsuki-shithead! Put me down!”
“This is our idiot. Get your own,” Tsukishima deadpans.
Ryu marches up to the car and sticks his head through the window. “Hey—what d’ya think you’re doing trying to pouch our packmate? Ya wanna fight? I’ll fucking stab ya—” He gets punched in the face just as the car takes off. He falls to the pavement, clutching his nose.
Yuu bolts after the car. “You better fucking drive you fucking fuckheads! I see your faces ‘round here again I’ll—”
“Are you OK?” Asahi helps Ryu to his feet. “Here, lemme see your nose.”
He hears Kageyama lecturing Shouyou. “How many times has Sugawara told you? You don’t talk to strangers, you don’t look at strangers—if a stranger talks to you, you ignore them—I mean honestly, how dumb can you get?”
“He was just asking me about school!”
“He was trying to get you close enough to the car so he could grab you, idiot. What if Tsukishima hadn’t been standing next to you, huh? What if they’d driven off with you?”
Ryu takes his hand away from his face. There’s a lot of blood. Much more than he expected. “Ah fuck. My uniform.”
Asahi offers him a packet of tissues from his school bag. “Try tilting your head back a little bit—not too far, we don’t want the blood to go back up your nose.”
“You reckon it’s broken?” He hopes not. Daichi and Suga just recently copped a hospital bill for the broken arm Yamaguchi got while playing basketball.
“It doesn’t look crooked,” Asahi assesses, “but I’ll need to take a closer look once the bleeding’s stopped.”
The minute they walk through the door; Suga is in Mum Mode. He has him lie on the couch upstairs until the bleeding stops, an icepack wrapped in a tea towel pressed at the bridge to help with the swelling. Yuu sits on the armchair while Asahi looks over him. Downstairs he hears Suga ask the others what happened. There’s a hesitant pause right before Tsukishima explains everything—in his own language.
“Hinata talked to a stranger because he’s an idiot and almost got himself kidnapped.”
The three of them cringe. A deadly silence follows, and then they hear a door slamming shut. From the bedroom he hears Suga scolding Shouyou at the top of his lungs.
Tadashi runs upstairs to join them, his shoulders bunched up to his ears. “Poor Shouyou.”
Asahi sighs. “Well, the good news is I don’t think your nose is broken.”
Ryu grins. “Phew. Saves me a trip to the doctor!”
“I’d still recommend you get it looked at by a professional.”
“Shh, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“It’s a shame they didn’t clock you in the eye,” Yuu says. “You woulda looked badass.”
“You reckon omegas like blackeyes?”
Yuu nods his head. “They definitely do.”
Tadashi giggles. “Because you’re an expert on omegas.”
“Sure I am! I’ve known Suga for years.”
“Sugawara doesn’t count.” Tadashi grimaces when he hears the omega’s voice rise in volume.
Tsukishima joins them, sitting on the windowsill with a book in his hand. He doesn’t look guilty for throwing Shouyou under the bus at all.
The freckled beta shakes his head. “You are one cold motherfucker, Tsukki.”
“It’s for his own good.” The blonde turns the page. “Next time a stranger talks to him, he’ll think back to this moment.”
Leaning back in the armchair, Yuu laces his fingers behind his head. “So anyway, what should we do this summer?”
“Well, what were you thinking?” Ryu throws back at him.
Yuu shrugs. “I’ve got a few things in mind.” The beta’s eyes glance at Asahi and Ryu thinks about how deep of a hole he has to dig to bury his head completely in the sand.
“I hear they have public swimming pools in Middle Tokyo that aren’t full of used syringes,” Tadashi says wistfully. “If I had one wish for this summer, it’d be to visit Middle Tokyo.”
“Keep dreamin’ kid.” Ryu settles further into the cushions and closes his eyes. “Unless you have The Don’s phone number in your pocket, we’re stuck in Lower Tokyo to rot with the rest of the garbage.”
*
“Okay, okay, now walk forward—oop, watch the step. Yep, you’re good.”
Shouyou can’t see anything with Sugawara’s hands over his eyes. He nervously navigates himself through the front door and into what he knows is the living area. Excited whispers can be heard from all angles, building the anticipation.
Despite what the others say, he’s not a complete idiot. The pack are trying to pass this off as a big surprise, but there’s only one thing this could possibly be about. He plays along anyway because it’s fun.
“Okay, now sit down.”
Shouyou does as the omega instructs, carefully lowering to the floor. The hands are taken away and light glows behind his eyelids.
“Open your eyes!”
He’s only given a split second to process before everyone screams: “Happy Birthday!”
A homemade cake with sixteen candles is placed on the table in front of him and Noya wrestles a party hat onto his head, finishing with a flinching whack of the elastic. Sugawara has the camera at the ready, an epileptic sequence of flashes causing black dots to invade Shouyou’s vision. With Tanaka pulling him into a headlock and Tadashi pinching his cheeks he barely has room to breathe, but not even that can dampen his huge grin.
The pack sing Happy Birthday as the candles burn bright. Tanaka and Noya are the most obnoxious, singing so loud Sawamura pulls at their ears until they sing normally.
When the last hip-hip hooray is cried, Sugawara hollers, “Make a wish, Shouyou!”
Slapping his hands down on either side of the cake, he takes a big breath and blows out all sixteen in one go. His pack claps and Noya plants a sloppy kiss to the side of his face. He pretends to be disgusted and shoves the beta away with a laugh.
“What’d you wish for, Shouyou?” Tadashi asks while Daichi and Sugawara fetch plates and a knife for the cake.
The tips of his ears turn red. “If I tell you, it won’t come true!”
“That’s just a silly superstition,” Tsukishima says, shooting Shouyou a challenging look. “Only morons buy into that crap.”
Shouyou growls. “Fine! I’ll tell you! I wished that I would Present this year.”
The moment the words come flying out of his mouth he regrets it and buries his face in his hands. It’s not really something he likes to talk about. There’s this unspoken rule that the pack follows that whenever the topic of Presenting comes up, Shouyou’s delayed maturity is never mentioned. And Shouyou knows they’re just being nice about it, but it doesn’t make him feel any better. Why would it? The kids at school don’t have the same reservations. They remind him that he’s the only one in the entire first-year cohort without a status almost every day.
A hand pats him on the head and he looks up to see their leader smiling at him. “I think that’s a good wish, Shouyou.”
“Yeah, and something that’s definitely going to happen!” Noya exclaims as he helps pass around the plates. “It could happen any day now!”
Tanaka sighs like he’s wistful, but he can’t keep his own grin in check. “When Shouyou Presents there’ll be five alphas in the pack. We’ll be completely outnumbered, Yuu!”
“You’re already outnumbered, Tanaka,” Tsukishima reminds him flatly.
“Eh, three-on-four are good odds. And Asahi doesn’t count ‘cuz Yuu can just kiss him and he’ll be down for the count.”
Asahi is ready to expire where he sits, and Noya puts a foot on the table with his chest proudly puffed. Sugawara scolds him and tells him to keep his dirty feet to himself.
Daichi hands Shouyou the knife. “Remember, if the knife comes out clean, you’re safe.”
He gulps. “And if it doesn’t?”
“You have to kiss the closest person.”
“Ah.”
Looking to his left, he’s surprised to see Tsukishima. They stare at each other. Well, Shouyou stares and Tsukishima glares. Then Kageyama shoves the blonde out of the way and takes his spot.
“Not in a million years,” the raven-haired alpha mutters angrily.
Shouyou blushes and looks away, easing the knife into the centre of the cake. He breathes a sigh of relief when it comes out clean. Disappointment colours Kageyama’s eyes and Shouyou smiles and shrugs as an apology. It’s not like it matters. They’ll have plenty of other opportunities.
Gifts come after cake. Shouyou isn’t expecting much, because birthdays in their household are less about the gifts and more about love and celebration. They’re mostly little things and he loves each and every one of them. Noya got him cute socks with tiny ghosts on them; Azumane got him a gift voucher from his favourite ice-cream shop; Tanaka got him a small rubber ball they can use to play handball; Tadashi and Tsukishima got him a joint gift of a pencil case to replace the one falling apart in his school bag; and Sugawara and Daichi got him his own flip phone and a rabbit plushie.
“For me?” Shouyou blinks, staring at the phone in disbelief, the rabbit tucked into the crook of his elbow. “Just for me? I don’t have to share it?”
Sugawara giggles and nods. “It’s all yours, Shouyou. Do you like it?”
The four youngest had to share a phone between them up until this point. It was a major pain in the ass, but none of them complained because they knew it would be expensive to get phones for all four of them. Noya, Tanaka and Azumane saved up and bought their own from working odd jobs around town.
He picks up the flip phone, still in awe. “I—I love it! Thank you so much!”
The pack spends the rest of the afternoon eating and chatting with the front door propped open to allow a breeze into the apartment. After celebrations die down and the others are distracted, Kageyama grabs Shouyou’s hand and leads him outside. They weave in and out of the shadows of buildings, getting further away from home. Butterflies tickle his insides and he can’t stop smiling. The sight of his hand disappearing in Kageyama’s grip just makes him so—gah!
“Where are you taking me?” The streets are getting less familiar. They don’t come down this way often because it’s in the opposite direction of school.
“Somewhere we can have some privacy.” Kageyama plays it off cool, but Shouyou spies the blush creeping up the back of his neck.
“Pulling me away on my own birthday,” he shakes his head, “you’re getting bolder.”
“You’ve got a phone now. If they’re worried, they can just call you.”
Kageyama looks both ways before pulling Shouyou into a small alcove. Their hands reach for each other at the same time, desperate to touch each other. The alpha cups both sides of Shouyou’s face and leans down to meet the ginger’s eager mouth. Shouyou grasps the back of Kageyama’s shirt, pushing up on his tippy toes to deepen the kiss.
They’ve been kissing in secret for months.
It’d been a year since they’d fought, and for a time afterwards they did exactly what Sawamura asked: they took things slow. Brief conversations in the hallways at school, helping each other during Sakusa’s tutoring lessons, their knuckles grazing against one another as they walked side by side—these were the extent of their interactions for a while.
And it was a good effort. While it lasted.
They kissed for the first time in January. It was just after Kageyama’s rut, and they’d been apart for four days. It was a routine they were used to by now, but they’d still missed each other terribly. Their reunion was laced with bubbling emotions neither of them could deny any longer, and there was no going back after that.
Despite the odds, they’ve managed to keep it a secret from the rest of the pack. Even the more perceptive members, like Sugawara and Tsukishima, have been eluded.
They finally part for air. Kageyama peppers kisses over Shouyou’s cheekbones and he gasps, holding him tighter.
“I have your presents,” the alpha murmurs, pulling two small boxes from the pocket of his shorts.
Shouyou reluctantly takes a step back. “Two presents? It’s not like you to be so generous.”
Kageyama scowls. “Are you going to open them or not?”
Shouyou grins and takes them. The first box he opens has two phone charms: one with a plastic onigiri dangling at the end of it; and the other with the letters S and T with a little cherry blossom between them.
“I uh—overhead Sugawara and Sawamura talking about getting you a phone and figured you might want charms with it,” Kageyama explains, awkwardly scratching the back of his head.
“They’re awesome! Thank you!” Shouyou kisses the back of Kageyama’s hand.
“Open the other one.”
His eyebrows disappear past his fringe when he opens the lid of the second present. “A ring?”
Kageyama goes red from his neck to his ears. “It’s a promise ring.”
“A promise ring? For like, sex?”
“No! Idiot!” He holds up his hand to reveal the matching ring on his right hand. “It’s a ring symbolising our relationship. See the orange? That’s you, and the black is me.”
He tilts his head to the side. “But what are we promising?”
“Just—to be … together? I don’t know, I didn’t think this through—”
“No, I—I like it.” Shouyou wraps his arms around Kageyama’s neck. “Can I tell you a secret,” he mumbles against the alpha’s lips.
Kageyama places his hands on Shouyou’s hips. “What?”
“Your presents were my favourite.”
“Better than the toy rabbit?”
“Only slightly.”
Their lips meet and Shouyou feels like he’s floating. He feels like he could skip on clouds and drift across the Milky Way, drunk off this blissful moment.
Just when he thinks this is the best birthday ever, a voice ruins everything. “Why doesn’t this surprise me?”
Tsukishima and Tadashi are smug. Like cats that have mice cornered in their territory. Shouyou and Kageyama spring apart so quickly the alpha almost trips over an abandoned shopping cart.
“You were right all along, Tsukki,” Tadashi groans. “And here I was hoping they were selling drugs.”
“You have to be discreet to sell drugs, Yamaguchi. Do you honestly think these idiots know how to be discreet?”
“Hey! We’ve kept our relationship secret for five months!” Shouyou blurts out, then slaps a hand over his mouth when he realises what he’s just done.
“Oh? I’m sure Sawamura will find that very interesting.”
Kageyama gets up in Tsukishima’s face. “You wouldn’t dare.”
Tsukishima quirks an eyebrow. “Wouldn’t I?”
“Please, please don’t tell Sawamura and Sugawara!” Shouyou tackles Tsukishima’s leg. “It’s my birthday! Surely that counts for something?”
“On the contrary. Ruining your birthday is almost too tempting to give up.”
“Tsuki-shithead! I won’t let go of your leg!”
“Then I’ll just have to kick you off.”
“Tsukishima.” The blonde smirks at Kageyama.
“Your Majesty?”
“Don’t,” the short alpha pleads quietly. “They might separate us for good if they find out.”
“No shit. I’m banking on it.”
“Why? Why would you do that to us?”
Golden eyes slide from Shouyou to Kageyama then back again, the wheels turning over in his head. “So the two of you are serious then? Gross. Nishinoya and Azumane were bad enough.”
“We’re not public yet. We won’t be for some time after Hinata has Presented.”
“Hm, not so sure there’ll be a relationship at all once that happens.”
“What?”
“Never mind. If you really want to be annoying together, then fine. I won’t tell the others.” Then a grin Shouyou can only describe as pure evil takes shape on Tsukishima’s face. “But only if you do something for me first.”
Kageyama looks up at the sky and sighs. “Really? We’re really doing this?”
“We’ll do anything!” Shouyou jumps up. “What is it? Tell us!”
“I want you to go to the corner store and get me a magazine.”
“Just a magazine?” He blinks. “That’s it?”
Laughter dances in Tsukishima’s eyes. Hm, Shouyou’s beginning to get the feeling that it is isn’t going to be any old magazine they’ll be getting from the store.
*
Tsukishima Kei is a cock-sucking shit gibbon.
Tobio marches his way to the corner store with a pocket full of coins, Hinata trailing after him clutching his new rabbit plushie. They’re not going to the corner store they thought he was initially talking about—which would be the one they go to regularly for sweets and milk. No, this one’s a few blocks away. It’s the grubby-looking one with moss growing on the steps and weird old men sitting on cinder blocks out the front.
“Why is he making us get the magazine?” Hinata whines. “Is he too embarrassed to get it himself?”
“I get the feeling he’s doing it just to humiliate us.”
Though, maybe that’s only half the truth. Tsukishima did say to get the one with alphas in it, which is a detail a little too specific to not be a coincidence.
The store comes into sight. It’s only a five-minute walk from home.
As always, there are two old men sitting out the front with cigarettes in their mouths and newspapers open in the laps. They ignore their watchful gazes as they take the steps up to the entrance, only for the bell to ring and the door to swing open. They come face to face with Tanaka, of all people, with an unlit cigarette between his teeth and a pack in his hand.
They stare at each other for a second, then— “What are you doing here?!”
Two fingers are pointed at Tanaka, and one at the duo.
The beta speaks first. “I was just—well I mean my friend smokes and I uhh—was getting this … for her.”
“You have one in your mouth!” Hinata accuses.
Tanaka stuffs it back in the packet. “No, I don’t. You didn’t see that.”
“Yes, we did!” Tobio and Hinata yell collectively.
“Ah, my cute little kouhai are so silly sometimes.” The beta reaches over and ruffles Tobio’s hair. The gesture is a little ridiculous, since the alpha has surpassed him in height. “Well, anyway, I’m just gonna go … somewhere.”
He squeezes past Tobio on the stairs. Tanaka makes it two steps before spinning around again. “Wait! Why are you two here?”
“We’re getting a magazine,” Hinata explains.
“Oh OK.” Tanaka goes to leave, then turns back around. “Wait, what? A magazine? From here?”
Tobio looks Tanaka in the eye, completely serious. “We won’t tell if you don’t.”
“Tch.” He sticks the cigarette back in his mouth. “Fine. But if Suga finds it, I’m not saving your asses.”
It’s dim inside the store. The cheap shades completely block out any of the natural sunlight, leaving only the overhead bulbs to do most of the work. A fat man in a singlet sits next to a fan behind the counter. Gold rings glitter on his chubby fingers as they graze across the crossword he’s working on. He doesn’t pay them any mind.
Tobio goes to the back of the store where he finds the magazines. Funny how Tsukishima knew which store to go to. He wonders how many times the blonde alpha has come here, and how he knew to come here specifically.
Maybe Tanaka told him.
There are magazines that cover a range of different … preferences. Tobio doesn’t look too hard at any of them and grabs the first one he finds. Hinata holds on to the back of his shirt as he storms over to the counter. He slaps the magazine down.
The man behind the counter grunts: “One-thousand yen.”
He hands over the coins. He then turns to Hinata and says, “Quick, put it under your shirt.”
“Me?” Hinata squeaks, shoving the magazine away. “Why me?”
“Because if you’re found with it, you’ll be in less trouble.”
“Why?”
“They’ll think you were just curious. If I’m caught, I’ll be labelled a pervert for the rest of my life!”
Hinata scoffs and snatches the magazine out of his hands, stuffing it under his shirt and crossing his arms over his plushie to hide the indent. “Let’s just find Tsukishima and give it to him.”
In the time they were inside the store, another person had joined the old men. An omega, who sits on the knee of one of the old men. He’s young and heavily pregnant. His eyes meet with Hinata’s and Tobio grabs his hand, pulling him away before he can think too much of it.
Tsukishima is leaning in the alley outside their apartment, right where they left him. And where Tsukishima is, Yamaguchi isn’t far. The beta is rocking on the balls of his feet with a silly grin.
“That was quick!”
“Shut up, Tadashi,” Hinata grumbles.
He looks around to make sure their surrogate parents aren’t about to pop out of nowhere, and then he smacks the magazine against Tsukishima’s chest.
“There! We did what you wanted! Now it’s your turn to keep up your end of the bargain.”
Tsukishima rolls his eyes and tucks the magazine under his arm, unashamed. “Fine. We never saw you sucking face.”
“You damn right you didn’t, Pervy-shima!”
*
It’s a balmy night in mid-August. Holidays are in full swing, and the pack are feeling playful. Their leader’s rut started yesterday, so he’s bunkered down in the lounge room, and tonight Koushi decided to keep him company, leaving Asahi in charge.
And he really, really hates when he’s in charge.
This trait contradicts the philosophy of what it means to be an alpha. He knows this better than most. Koushi and Daichi weren’t the only ones shocked at his status reveal; his classmates and teachers were utterly floored. It made him the butt of a lot of jokes, none of which bothered him much. There’s no point getting fired-up when you’re at the top of the food chain.
But despite this, his anxiety persists.
“Try not to stay up too late, ne?” Koushi winked before pulling up the stairs.
Not only is it nearing midnight, but Yuu and Ryu smuggled in snacks and soft drinks they’d been hording in a hidden panel at the back of the wardrobe, so everybody is well and truly awake.
They’ve position themselves in a circle, splayed out on their futons. The overhead fan is loud, but it’s nothing but background noise to the voices animating the room.
“Yuu, it’s your turn to pick the category!” Ryu clamours, stuffing a fistful of potato chips in his mouth.
The beta lifts his head from Asahi’s thigh. “Lemme think. Uhhh—coolest animal!”
The rules of Categories are simple enough. A person chooses a topic, and then everyone goes around the room thinking of the best answer. Sometimes the answers are personal, sometimes opinionated or strategic, and then the person who chose the topic gets to pick their favourite answer. The person with the winning answer gets to choose the next topic. There’s no reward for winning, and no punishment for losing. It’s a game Daichi introduced as a bonding technique.
Since Kei is to Yuu’s right, he goes first.
“Python,” the blonde alpha says.
“Tsukishima’s distant cousin,” Kageyama deadpans.
Tadashi snorts back a laugh and Kei shoots him a look of betrayal. The freckled beta shrugs apologetically. “Um, an eagle?”
“Wolf,” Kageyama says confidently, certain of his victory.
Shouyou hugs his rabbit plushie (which he nicknamed the English word: ‘Happy’) and juts his tongue out in thought. “A kangaroo?”
An animal that can jump high. How fitting.
“Dragon!” Ryu yells.
“That’s cheating.” Kei scowls. “Dragons aren’t real.”
“As far as we know.” Ryu flicks a chip in Kei’s face.
“I’ll allow it!” Yuu exclaims.
The circle collectively groans. Mostly everyone has given their answer, so topping ‘dragon’ is near to impossible. Asahi is the last one in the circle, meaning the pressure is on him to think of something cooler than a dragon. Oh god. Being last in this game is the worst.
“Uh, a tiger?”
“Good answer! But I think I’m going to have to go with dragon for this one.” Yuu pecks the corner of his mouth and he can’t stay downhearted for too long.
Ryu strikes his best wrestler poses while everyone else either laughs or rolls their eyes.
“What’s the category?” Shouyou bounces his knee eagerly.
A predatory glint crosses the bald beta’s eyes. “Category is: biggest fear!”
Oh god. How could he possibly settle on one? There’s too many to choose from!
Yuu nudges him. “C’mon, Asahi! You’ve got this one in the bag!”
Going first is almost as bad as going last in this game, because starting means everyone has the chance to think of a better answer that can top yours. Okay, he takes back what he said before. Going first is the worst.
Asahi shudders. The only way he can win is to be honest. “Being a disappointment to my pack.”
The playful atmosphere dissipates, smiles thinning into grim lines. Asahi immediately panics. “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to give such a serious answer! Please, forget what I just said. I’ll think of a funnier answer—”
“Asahi, it’s OK.” Yuu sits up straight, staring at the fan. “My biggest fear is not being strong enough to protect you guys.”
He gapes at the little beta. “You’re one of Daichi’s top students.”
“Yeah but,” Yuu grins sheepishly, “I could always be stronger.”
The brunette beta then elbows Kei in the side. “I’m curious about your answer the most. I’m sure not much scares you ey, Bean Sprout?”
“Failure.” Yuu reels back, confused, and Tadashi gives the blonde alpha a look of understanding.
When it’s clear Kei won’t elaborate, Tadashi gives his answer. “Being unwanted.”
“But Tadashi! You’re already wanted!” Yuu says.
The youngest beta rubs the back of his neck and laughs. “I-I know. But I have a reoccurring dream that one day you guys won’t want me anymore.”
“That’s dumb,” Kei says.
“It’s not dumb.” Kageyama meets Tadashi’s gaze. “Rejection from your pack is worse than death. I wouldn’t wish it upon my worst enemy.”
“Is that your biggest fear too, Kageyama?” Tadashi asks.
The alpha shakes his head. “It used to be, back when we were new to the pack. My biggest fear now is our pack getting separated.”
“That won’t happen,” Ryu says without missing a beat. “Any of you try walking away, I’ll hunt ya down and drag ya right back here where you fucking belong!”
“Me too!” Yuu hoots.
“Shouyou? What’s your biggest fear?” Tadashi leans over to grab a bottle of soda.
The ginger in question has been uncharacteristically quiet this whole round. He mutters something into his plushie.
Ryu yanks Happy away. “Oi, speak up! We can’t hear you!”
Shouyou looks down at his lap, deeply ashamed. “Presenting as an omega.”
The silence that follows is heavy, but brief. Yuu is a little too quick to reassure him. “That’s the silliest fear so far! You’re going to be an alpha. There’s no question!”
Reaching out, Ryu ruffles Shouyou’s head of apricot locks. “And even if you somehow are an omega, nothing’d change. You’d still be same old Shouyou to us.”
Shouyou brings his knees to his chin, unconvinced. Asahi frowns, his heart pinching with sympathy.
Deep down he knows it’s a worry everyone in the pack has. It’s a fear that anyone living Unpresented in Lower Tokyo should have. Asahi is an alpha over six-foot and even he’s afraid to go outside sometimes, so he couldn’t imagine what it would be like to be an omega.
“Ugh, you’ve all made my job a lot harder, you know that?” Ryu grumbles, massaging his temples.
“Senpai?”
“Hm?”
Shouyou blinks slowly. “What’s your biggest fear?”
“Ey, that’s not how the game’s played. I chose the category.”
He shrugs. “I was just curious.”
Ryu breathes a heavy sigh, falling back on his hands and looking up at the ceiling. “Dying alone.” He answers after a moment of thought. “My biggest fear is that I die alone.”
Chapter Text
A summer breeze flutters through the sheets pegged to the clothesline.
On washing day, Koushi pulls out the extension from one side of the alley to the other and gets to work on the mountains of clothes that’d piled up over the week. It’s a great day for it too. The sun’s out, there’s just the barest amount of wind, and the humidity levels are mild.
Daichi is behind him folding the futons over the chain-link fence, and guttural yells echo through the alley as the younger ones play handball. Every so often the wind kicks up the sheets, revealing little glimpses of Yuu diving or Shouyou jumping.
From where he’s standing, Koushi can’t see Ryu, but he can hear him. You’d have to be deaf not to.
“Yeah! Double-bounce motherfucker!”
“No swearing!” Koushi yells.
“Sorry!”
Koushi hums to himself, pulling out a pair of Kageyama’s shorts and wondering if the boy’s already outgrown them. Hands grab his hips and lips brush his ear, almost making him drop the shorts he was clipping to the line.
“Daichi!” Koushi gasps.
“Sorry,” their leader chuckles, “didn’t mean to scare you. You just look so cute when you’re doing household chores.”
Koushi rolls his eyes. “I’m always doing household chores.”
“Exactly.” The alpha buries his face in the side of Koushi’s neck and sighs deeply. “Thank you for keeping me company this week. I really needed it.”
He blushes. “Of course. You kept me company for my heat, so it only makes sense that I’d return the favour, right?”
“So this is a give-and-take sort of deal, is it?” Daichi chuckles.
“You know that’s not what I meant.”
“I know, I know. I just like how embarrassed you get. It’s cute.”
“Geez, if you put five-thousand yen in the savings jar for every time you’ve called me cute, we could send the whole pack to university.” He whips the extra moisture from a school shirt and neatly folds it over the line. “Ugh, that reminds me of dress-up day at the kindergarten last week—you should’ve seen them! The theme was ‘What I Want to be When I Grow Up’. Of course, they’re too young to really care so it’s more like: ‘What My Parents Want Me to be When I Grow Up’.”
“Ah, so half were doctors, the other half were lawyers?”
Koushi giggles. “Pretty much! Though there were a few princesses running around.”
“Don’t we all dream of growing up to be princesses?” Daichi jokes.
“Ah, the dream.”
The alpha’s hands move to rub over his stomach. “Doesn’t it make you want to have kids of your own?”
Koushi moves to an unoccupied spot on the clothesline. Daichi moves with him. “We already have kids. They’re a bigger handful than my kindergarteners.”
Daichi tucks a strand of Koushi’s hair behind his ear. “I know, but down the line, once they’ve grown up and have their own jobs, wouldn’t you want little Koushis and little Daichis running around? I always pictured our kids with your pretty hair and eyes.”
“Mmm. Can you pass me the bucket?” Daichi drags it over and Koushi fishes out a pair of jeans. “It’s like a bottomless pit of clothes. It just never ends!”
Daichi has his hands over his stomach again. “And when we want a weekend to ourselves, we can have the pack babysit them. You know Yuu and Ryuunosuke will spoil them rotten.”
“Leaving children in the hands of those two.” Koushi shakes his head. “I couldn’t think of anything more irresponsible.”
“Asahi will monitor them.”
“You think Asahi would be better with kids?” He quirks an eyebrow. “One temper tantrum and that boy will buy everything in a candy store for them.”
“You’re being awfully negative about this.”
“I’m not being negative.” Koushi laughs dryly. “I’m being realistic.”
Daichi removes his hands and Koushi turns to face him. Their leader opens his mouth as though he’s about to say something, but someone clears their throat. They turn to see Kei standing with his head between the lines of clothes. Geez, will he ever stop growing?
“Am I interrupting?” the blonde alpha asks.
“Not at all, Kei.” Koushi smiles. “What is it?”
“I wanted to ask you both something ...” Kei adjusts his glasses.
“Go ahead,” Daichi encourages.
“I want to see my biological mother.”
Koushi swallows back something bitter and says, “Of course, we’ll help you however way we can. Do you know how to contact her?”
Kei shrugs. “I only have the old apartment as a reference, but I don’t want to go alone.”
“I’ll go with you,” Kei reassures, placing a hand on the blonde’s shoulder. “In fact, we can go right after I’ve finished with the washing.”
“That’s alright, I’ll finish it.” Daichi presses a kiss to Koushi’s temple. “You go on ahead before the sun starts to fall.”
After Koushi grabs his wallet and keys, the both of them head towards the car, passing the rest of the pack along the way.
“Tsukki?” Tadashi jogs up to them as Kei opens the passenger door. “Where’re you guys going? Can I come with?”
“No. Go play with the others. I’ll be back soon.” Kei climbs into the car and shuts the door without sparing the beta another word.
Tadashi stares at Kei through the window, perplexed and a little hurt.
“No need to worry.” Koushi waves it off. “I’ve just asked Kei to keep me company while I run some errands. It’ll be super boring. You wouldn’t want to come, trust me.”
“Oh … OK. See you.”
The moment he closes the driver’s door he smacks Kei upside the head. “Ah! Why’d you do that?”
“Your attitude. You and Tadashi are close. You need to treat him better.” He punches the keys into the ignition and the engine roars to life.
“It’s fine. Yamaguchi knows how I am.” The alpha has to raise his voice over the howl of the exhaust pipe.
“I wish you were nicer to him.”
Kei directs him on where to go. Each tier of San Tokyo is as big as a major city, and even dividing them into the Don Territories doesn’t make them any less difficult to navigate. Most of the streets look the same here. It’s concrete during the day and neon at night. The best way is to take note of the graffiti on the buildings if you’re ever lost. That’s what he does.
But despite all that, Kei doesn’t have any trouble telling him which turns to take. It’s as if he has the whole route burned into his memory.
“What made you suddenly want to see your mother?” Koushi tries his best to sound as casual as possible.
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Maybe since I Presented.”
“That long?”
Kei nods. “My brother was murdered a few weeks after he Presented. He was a beta.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It pushed my mother over the edge. It got so bad that she would flip a coin to decide whether she should spend money on rent or booze.”
“That must’ve been hard for you.”
There isn’t a single member of the pack who’s gone through childhood and adolescence unscathed. It’s the price that’s paid when raised in a place this. Koushi forgets from time to time, largely because his packmates are such good kids. They don’t get the best grades and some of them are a little rough around the edges, but at their core they’re good, and that’s more than what could be said for most kids Lower Tokyo spits out.
The alpha shrugs. It’s very like Kei to downplay his own trauma. “Sometimes, I can’t help but feel like I abandoned her. And it’s stupid, because social services were going to take me away anyway, but I never went back to her. Even after you guys took me in, I never went to check if she was OK.”
A smile touches Koushi’s lips. “Better late than never. I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you.”
They eventually come to a stop outside a complex. It’s brick instead of the standard concrete. One of the front apartments has a broken window, and a racoon scurries by with babies swinging from its teats.
“Here it is.”
“It looks … nice.”
Kei snorts. “Hinata’s a better liar than you.”
Koushi grins sheepishly. “Sorry.”
They walk up the stairwell to the fifth floor, and stop at apartment number 53. Kei clenches his fists at his sides, staring at the door in a rare moment of uncertainty. Koushi squeezes his shoulder and smiles.
“I’ll be right with you the whole time.”
The blonde nods and finally knocks on the door. Somebody answers, but it’s not who they’re expecting.
A nervous-looking man peeks out from a tiny crack in the door. Beady eyes scan them briefly before he speaks, his voice high-pitched and squeaky. “What do you want?”
Kei glares. “Tsukishima Akari, where is she?”
“Who?”
“The woman who lives here.”
Confusion scrunches the man’s face, and then his jaw slackens in realisation. “Ah, you must be looking for the previous tenant. She left.”
Kei sighs. “When?”
“Maybe two or three years ago?”
“Where’d she go?”
“How should I know. Look—if I give you the landlord’s number will you leave me alone? I was kind of in the middle of something.”
Koushi ends up calling the landlord. She’s an elderly woman with a frank sense of humour and a surprisingly good memory. When he inquires about Tsukishima Akari, she says, “She left for Yokoyama Clinic on the corner of 24th and 3rd last I heard. Something about sobering up so she could get her son back.”
“Is she still there?” Koushi asks.
“Who knows? You should go see for yourselves.”
They get back in the car. The tenant glares at them from his apartment window before shutting the drapes.
Kei is quiet.
Koushi turns to him, frowning. “Do you want to check the clinic or do you want to go home?”
A group of kids run by with a scruffy-looking dog, their peals of laughter chasing them down the street. From the state of their clothes, they’re probably strays. Kei watches them pensively.
“If what the landlord said is true …” Kei crosses his arms over his chest. “It means my mum did care.”
“Of course she cared,” Koushi says easily. “She had you for a son.”
Kei looks a little pained to hear that. “I thought she didn’t. After we lost everything, I thought my—I thought Akari—stopped caring about the world and everything in it. I thought she stopped caring about me because I wasn’t her favourite son.”
“You couldn’t have known back then. You were so young.” Koushi places a hand on Kei’s arm.
The blond looks at the hand, then at Koushi, his eyes softening. “I want to go to the clinic.”
“Okay.”
The Yokoyama Rehabilitation Clinic is in a nicer area of Lower Tokyo. And by ‘nicer area’, he means there aren’t junkies dying in the streets and rats the size of hares aren’t trying to snatch baby kittens from their mothers. Koushi finds a parking spot across the road and checks to make sure no one’s hiding ready to try and hijack the car.
“Ready?”
Kei nods.
The clinic isn’t all that bad inside. There are weird stains on the turquoise carpet, and there’s a person sitting in the waiting area that looks ready to throw up all over their own shoes, but at least the place doesn’t stink of cigarettes.
A man behind the reception desk smiles at them. “I’m sorry, we’re not taking any patients at the moment. We’re completely booked out for the next month.”
“We’re not here for that,” Koushi says.
“Oh, then how may I help you?”
“We’re looking for a patient who might’ve been here a couple years ago.”
“Her name is Tsukishima Akari,” Kei elaborates.
The beta behind the desk smiles apologetically. “I’m sorry, but our patients’ files are confidential. Only immediate family and law enforcement are permitted access to patient information.”
“Great! Kei here is Akari’s son!” Koushi smacks the blonde over the shoulder. Kei pushes his glasses up his nose.
“Do you have any ID to verify that?”
“He does.”
“I do?”
Koushi nods, pulling a card out of his wallet and sliding it under the bullet proof glass. Kei peers curiously at it. The beta takes one look at the card and shoots out of his seat.
“A-A rogue pack!” he gasps.
“Yes, Karasuno. See here,” Koushi points to one of the names, “Tsukishima Kei. He’s an official member of our pack, but before that he used to live with his mother and brother.”
“Please,” the man bows, “don’t—don’t tell Don Ushijima that I refused you. I’ll get you the files right away.”
“Make it snappy!” Koushi grins. Kei shoots him a weird look.
Luck must be on their side, because they do have a file on Tsukishima Akari. They go sit in the waiting area while Kei reads over it.
“Huh.”
“What is it?” he asks, resisting the urge to peek over the alpha’s shoulder.
“She came here not along after I ran away.”
“You leaving could’ve been the wake-up call she needed.”
“Maybe.”
Kei continues reading. Koushi bounces his knee.
“It says she was here for six months and then left.”
“Is there an address?”
“Yes.” Kei’s lip quirks downwards, a mixture of displeasure and confusion in his frown.
“What’s wrong?”
“It’s in Middle Tokyo.”
He gapes. “Get outta here. Seriously?” Grabbing the file from Kei, he scans the details.
Kei points at an address left under ‘contact details’.
“Holy shit, you’re right!”
Moving out of the slums of Lower Tokyo through sheer will and hard work is the equivalent to winning the lottery. There are all kinds of provisions in place to ensure an escape from poverty is as difficult as humanly possible. It’s why strays are drawn to the idea of rogue packs. Unlike the government and Big Business, Dons reward loyalty and hard work with the kind of luxuries and benefits unheard of in Lower Tokyo. And, if you’re really good at what you do and impress your Don enough, you can even claw your way up to Middle—or even Upper Tokyo.
Which is why the news that Tsukishima Akari is currently living somewhere in Middle Tokyo all the more perplexing. How’d she pull that off?
Closing the file, Kei leans back in his seat, his shoulders falling in resignation. “So that’s it then. I can’t see her.”
“What? Why would you say that?”
The blonde stares at him. “Because it’s in Middle Tokyo? We need permits, don’t we?”
“Oh.” Koushi snorts, waving his hand dismissively. “I already have a permit for work, and I can get you one too.”
“How?”
Koushi grins. “You can apply for day permits if you’re visiting family, but because I’m amazing, I might be able to fast track the application and get you in today.”
Koushi takes photos of the documents before handing them back to the receptionist. As they’re getting into the car, he makes a phone call.
“Hanamaki …? Yeah, I know. Running a household full of teenagers takes up a lot of my time. Listen, I need a favour.”
*
By the time they get to the gates, Sugawara already has everything organised. Whoever he’d contacted, they’d gotten in touch with the security at the gate and they let them walk right on through (but not before stamping him on the back of his hand with a red insignia). They climb the escalators up to Middle Tokyo, and the moment they step through the glass doors Kei is hit with a wave of nostalgia.
How long has it been? Four years? Five?
The scenery is an immediate improvement. Large Cyprus trees cut through the centre on either side of the walkway, and just up ahead lies a massive fountain boxed in by four benches. Families mill around the shopping boutiques, peering into windows or chatting with the owners. Teenagers picnic in the shades of trees and kids take turns skipping rope by a playground. Kei’s struck by how clean everybody looks.
“Come on.” Sugawara takes his hand and pulls him through the crowds of people. “Her address isn’t far from the gate—so long as you don’t mind a little hike.”
“It’s fine.”
“Good! Because I don’t want to pay for a taxi.”
There’s something odd about Middle Tokyo. Something he hadn’t really noticed when he was a kid. Pheromones and scents might be involved, since those things didn’t really matter back then. He just can’t quite put his finger on it.
A teenage girl winks at him as they pass her. The yellow pin in her hair gleams in the sunlight.
Realisation dawns on him then. “The streets are full of omegas.”
“You just noticed?” Sugawara laughs. “As an alpha I would’ve thought you’d pick that up immediately.”
Kei reddens. “No, omegas aren’t really my thing.”
“Oh?” Sugawara throws an amused grin over his shoulder. He doesn’t ask any further questions.
It’s a bit of a hike to Akari’s apartment. Kei remembers reading in sociology class that developers in Middle Tokyo installed artificial hills in some neighbourhoods to replicate the authenticity of suburbia. Because nothing screams ‘suburbia’ quite like the centre of a city.
He’s not the fittest by any stretch of the imagination. Some might even say he’s downright unfit, but he soldiers up every hill they encounter until they’re well and truly in the residential district.
“Sunny County,” Sugawara reads aloud, wiping the sweat from his brow. “This is it.”
The apartment complex is sleek and modern. Much like a lot of the other complexes in this area, it has a distinctly eco-friendly modern aesthetic. They get to the third floor, and stop at the number on the address listed in the file. Sugawara knocks on apartment number 38, and they wait in patient silence.
“Coming!” a woman’s voice calls from behind the door.
A lump forms in his throat. Kei knows that voice. He’d know anywhere.
The door opens, revealing a pretty woman with short caramel hair and honey-coloured eyes. His lingers on her face briefly, before they’re yanked down to the obvious stomach bulging behind the fabric of an apron.
“Kei?” His eyes return to her face. He doesn’t know what to say.
Akari only hesitates for a second before throwing herself at her son, wrapping her arms around his middle and pulling him to her. When he’d run away, they were almost the same height, but now he towers over her.
At first, his hands stay at his sides, unsure of what to do. Automatically he turns his head to Sugawara for guidance. The omega stifles a grin into his hand before encouraging him to return the hug. And so he slowly curls his arms around the trembling body of the woman, and buries his nose in her hair. Her shampoo smells like oranges.
“You should spend some time alone with her,” Sugawara whispers. He slips a phone into his hand. “Call me when you’re ready to go, yeah?”
“Where will you go?”
The omega shrugs. “Not far. I’ll just do a bit of window shopping.”
Kei looks down at Akari, who still hasn’t moved. He can feel her tears wetting the front of his shirt. This might take a while.
“OK. I’ll call you.”
“Have fun!” The silver-haired omega pats him on the back before disappearing down the stairwell.
“Kei … Oh god.” Akari pulls away, sniffing. “I thought … It’s terrible but I thought you were dead.”
“You … you’re pregnant.”
“Oh.” She looks down at her stomach and blushes. “Yes, I am. Would you like to come in? I don’t want my neighbours seeing me like this. They’re terrible gossips you know.”
“Sure.”
The lounge room Akari leads him into is simple but homey. Two cream couches face towards a flatscreen in the corner, and a cat sits bundled atop a scratch post tower, basking in the sunlight filtering in through the window. He sits as Akari scrambles to make tea in the kitchen.
“Is—Is your favourite still earl grey?” she calls.
Kei clears his throat. “No, I like chamomile now.”
“Ah.”
He could be imagining things, but she almost sounds disappointed. Silly. Why would she care that his tea preferences have changed?
After a minute or so she returns to the lounge with tea, a plate of cookies, and a tissue box tucked under her arm. She sits on the opposite couch. Kei takes a sip of his tea, savouring the taste.
“This English breakfast?”
“Yes. Sorry, I didn’t have chamomile.”
“No, I like it.”
“Oh, good.”
There’s a pause, and then she yanks five tissues out of the box and aggressively dabs the corners of her eyes. “Wow. This is such a—a wonderful surprise. I’m so happy you’re here.”
“So you thought I was dead?” Kei continues where they left off.
“Yes! I went looking for you—after I went to rehab. I hoped that social services found you but they were hopeless. My only option was to go searching through the streets myself but,” she shakes her head, “I didn’t get very far. Itsuki helped too, but he came up with nothing.”
“Itsuki?”
“My husband. I was evicted from our apartment in Lower Tokyo, and I knew that my options were limited once I was released from rehab, so I got in contact with an old friend from high school. Itsuki and I had a thing for each other before your father swept me off my feet. When I’d told him everything that’d happened, he came to get me and well …” She looks at her stomach adoringly. “The rest is history.”
“Boy or girl?”
“Hm? Oh, a girl. You’re going to be a big brother.”
“Congratulations.”
Her face falls. “You don’t look happy.”
Kei licks his lips nervously. “It’s … it’s a lot to take in.”
“It is. How did you find me?”
“Sugawara helped me. We found this address at the Yokoyama Clinic.”
“Was he the boy you were with?”
Kei nods. “He’s my …” his lip quirks “… packmate.”
Her hand stills on her stomach, her expression stiff. She fills in the blanks without needing any further information. “I see.”
“He’s a good person,” Kei adds quickly.
“I’m sure he is, if he helped you find me.”
“Yes.”
They sip their tea at the same time.
The cat up above flicks its tail and stares lazily at Kei, amused by something. The silence stretches on and he can’t find a single thing to say. So much time has passed that there’s nothing and there’s everything to catch up on. But almost all the news revolves around his pack, and if Akari doesn’t ask about them, that means she’s not interested, right?
In the end, she’s the one to put the silence out of its misery. “You look healthy—and tall. Oh my gosh. I knew you’d be tall, but it still blows my mind. They must keep you well fed.”
“Who?”
“Your pack.”
“Oh, yes. Sugawara and Sawamura take good care of us.”
“How many packmates do you have?” she asks politely, a stillness in her keen eyes.
“Excluding me, there’s eight.”
“Oh my. Your house must be quite busy.”
“Apartment.”
Akari nearly chokes on her tea. “Nine of you? In one apartment?”
“Yes.”
“That must be … challenging.”
Kei shrugs. “It’s not so bad in summer. Yamaguchi and I usually hang around the convenient store. The old man working there gives us free icy poles if he’s in a good mood.”
“And school? You go to school, don’t you?”
“Yes, Kawagashi High School.”
“You’re a first-year now, right?”
“Yes.”
Akari leans back, beside herself. She looks at him as if seeing him as a stranger for the first time. “I’ve missed so much.”
There’s another pause. She doesn’t let it stew for long before saying: “Well, that’s all going to change. You’ll move in with us and I can finally give you the life you deserve.”
“What?”
“I mean, you’ll have to leave your pack, but I’m sure they’ll understand. You can still call them and see them on the weekends—but only if they’re willing to come to Middle Tokyo. I won’t let you set foot in that hellhole ever again.”
“Akari …”
“And the schools here are so much nicer! The uniforms are just adorable.”
Akari looks at him sweetly, and Kei has to clean his glasses with the fabric of his shirt, giving him time to mull things over. “You want me to move to Middle Tokyo … and live with you and your husband?”
“Naturally! You’re my son. I only want what’s best for you.”
His heart is in his throat. He looks up at the ceiling and wonders why he got himself into this situation in the first place.
*
Koushi looks at all the massive televisions flexing their HD images. The other day, Ryu barrelled over their TV and stuffed up the antenna, causing all the stations to be nothing but grainy static. It was time for a new TV. They’ve been needing one for ages, but kept pushing it back because there was always something more important they had to throw their savings at.
He can’t get one from here, obviously. Just about everything in Middle Tokyo is double the quality and triple the price. But that doesn’t stop him from daydreaming.
“See something you like? You know, I could help you buy one of these puppies.” Koushi turns and his eyes immediately roll to the sky.
“Yuuji, what are you doing here?”
Terushima Yuuji, along with cronies from his pack, stalk towards him. The leader is only a little taller than him, with skinny shoulders and slick yellow hair. A dragon tattoo snakes from the corner of his neck all the way down to his left wrist, and the multiple piercings he has in his ears catch in the sunlight. Chains hanging from his ripped jeans clink as he walks. He hasn’t changed up his look much at all in the years he’s known him.
The blonde grins. “Kou-chan—cutie, sweety, baby—don’t be like that. You’ve always been so cold to me.”
“Here to corrupt the innocent?” Koushi turns back to the TVs. “You know street rats like us don’t belong here.”
The beta drapes an arm over his shoulders. Koushi tries not to tense. “Oh, you didn’t hear? My transfer got approved. I live here now.”
“I don’t believe you.”
“Kou-chan,” he whines. “So mean!”
“I don’t see why Ushijima would have you so far from your base of operations.”
Yuuji manages the strip clubs in Norizaki, South Side’s red-light district. There’s only one tier of the city where those kinds of places belong, and it’s not in Middle or Upper Tokyo.
“He’s expanding his horizons and wants my help with it.”
“Oh, so you’re saying you’ve met The Don?” Koushi smirks.
Yuuji falters. “Well, no but—”
“Sugawara-san?” Yuuji jumps back with a yell. Koushi turns to find a well-built teenager standing behind them. He’s so tall his shadow almost eclipses him. “Is this man bothering you?”
“Ah, I know your face.” Koushi squints at the strange chicken tail sitting on the boy’s head. “Where do I know you again?”
“Oh right.” The kid slaps his forehead. “You probably don’t remember me. It was ages ago. I’m Koganegawa Kanji, from Date.”
“D-Date?” Yuuji shoves his packmates out of the way. “See ya, Kou-chan. I gotta go.”
“Oh.” Koushi claps his hands, barely paying Yuuji’s departure any mind. “Yes, I remember now. You and your packmates helped me after we got robbed.”
“Yeah!”
“How are you? You’re the same age as my little ones, aren’t you?” Is it weird to still call them his ‘little ones’ when three out of four of those kids have already surpassed him in height?
“I just started first-year high school!” The boy is practically glowing with pride. It brings a smile to Koushi’s face. He reminds him so much of his kids. “Well I mean, not just—I started in April, obviously. School holidays now though. I asked Sakunami to come shopping with me but he’s an ass and wanted to stay home.”
“What school do you go to? Maybe I’ve heard of it.”
“I got into Kintsuru High!”
Koushi gapes. Upper Tokyo is made up of three massive towers (the residential heights) that connect to a central tower in the very heart of the city, aptly named ‘Kokoro Tower’. But to rogues, it’s referred to as ‘No Man’s Tower’, as it’s the only territory unclaimed by a Don. In this tower are a variety of different goods and services, from food, to entertainment, all the way to government intelligence agencies. On a few of the levels lies the most exclusive high school in all of Japan: Kintsuru High.
“But …” Koushi blinks. “How?”
“Crazy, right? I’m really good at basketball, so I was hoping to get a sports scholarship into Kintsuru, but turns out if you’re a Middle Tokyo resident applying to Kintsuru, you need to be good at sport and have a 70-point average. Can you believe it? I mean, do I look like I have time to study if I’m on the court all day every day?” The kid shakes his head. “But Aone asked a favour from The Don and got me in.”
“A favour?” Koushi pales.
“Yeah, had to whack a few guys. But Aone’s good at that sort of stuff. I had to run some errands too. Nothing special. Though for one of them I had to drive a van full of boxes from one place to another and man—I reckon they were full of cocaine ‘cuz you know, that’s the kind our Don prefers to peddle out this side. But you probably know all that already.”
“Sure.” Koushi did not know Don Ushijima prefers to peddle cocaine. It also angers him that Ushijima would get a child involved in his dirty work, but he knows he shouldn’t be surprised. Karasuno’s children are the exception, not the rule. “So how’re you liking Kintsuru so far? Made lots of friends?”
Koganegawa pouts. “Not outside the basketball team. The students at Kintsuru are snobbish, you know? Especially to our pack, since we’re not Upper Tokyo natives or whatever.”
“Ah, win a few tournaments and they’ll come around.” Koushi slaps the alpha’s shoulder.
“I will!” Koganegawa tightens his fists determinedly. “How’s your pack? I heard some Presented as alphas!”
“Yes, I came here with one of them, actually. He wanted to see his mother.”
“Woah! One of your packmates has a real mother? Cool!”
Koushi’s smile tightens. “Yes, I figured I’d give them some space so I’m doing a little window shopping.”
“I could show you around while you wait?”
“Yeah?”
“Hell yeah!”
Koushi blinks, then chuckles. “Alright then. Why don’t you show me your favourite store?”
Date’s spry young alpha graciously accompanies him for close to two hours. They go to a few places, Koganegawa always having bills to splurge. Koushi gets nothing, but he’s happy to give his opinion whenever the alpha asks for it. At one of the last stores, he takes interest in a candle and Koganegawa buys it for him.
The call he’s been waiting for comes as the sun baths the city in orange sunset.
“Kei?”
“I’m outside the apartment complex.”
He worries his bottom lip. “OK. I’ll come get you.”
“I guess our adventure ends here.” Koganegawa salutes him. “It was nice hanging with ya, Sugawara-san.”
Koushi smiles. “Thanks again for the candle.”
“I wish you’d let me get you something more expensive!”
“Don’t be silly. You earned your money. Use it to spoil yourself.”
The alpha grins, holding up the many bags he’d collected over the course of the afternoon. “I have!”
“Take care.”
“Bye-bye!”
As Koushi heads in the direction of the residential area, he hopes that one day his kids might get to meet Koganegawa. He gets the strong feeling they’d get along well.
Koushi isn’t really sure what he’s expecting when he finds Kei leaning against the wall waiting for him. Reuniting with a long-lost mother would bring even the toughest alpha to tears, but when he looks into Kei’s face, he finds it as passive as ever. Instead of asking how it went, Koushi smiles in greeting and slides a hand into the crook of his elbow.
They don’t talk much until they’re back in the car on their way home.
“Were you happy you found your mother?”
Kei has to think before answering. “Yes and no.”
Koushi frowns. “Why no?”
“She asked me to move in with her.”
Koushi almost swipes a parked car’s side mirror. The stab of jealousy resurfaces, fiercer than ever, but he beats it back. “What did you say?”
“I refused.”
The relief is followed shortly after by guilt. “Kei … I’m not going to try and influence your decision, but you should know that this might be the only chance you get to leave Lower Tokyo. If you let this slip away …” he swallows “… you might never get this opportunity again.”
“I know. The answer’s still the same.”
His frown deepens. “But why? Why would you want to stay here? There’s nothing this place has to offer you.”
“Because this is where my family is. And I go where they go.”
Tears stings the corners of his eyes. He reaches over and ruffles the alpha’s hair. “You’re a fool. Maybe the biggest fool in our pack.”
“I don’t know, there’s tough competition.”
He chokes on a laugh. “If only they knew how much you love them.”
“If you tell them, I’ll deny it,” Kei says firmly.
Koushi smiles. “I know.”
*
Another week, another washing day. The breeze is a little stronger than it was last time, whipping the sheets and clothes up sporadically. The kids are playing handball again. It’s the last day of summer holidays, so they’re making the most of it—wind be damned.
Koushi’s keeping a keen eye on them, just in case the wind blows the ball onto the road. He wouldn’t put it past one of them to go running onto it without looking for cars.
The sheet at the very back blows upwards. Koushi catches a flash of orange hair soaring through the air. The wind pulls back, obscuring his vision briefly. He hears a loud yelp that makes his heart stutter. The sheet flutters back, and Shouyou’s no longer flying, but on the ground, coiling into himself.
“Shouyou?” he hears Yuu ask.
Koushi’s heart stops.
Notes:
DUN DUN DUUUUUN!!!
FINALLY we've caught up to the plot! I know this chapter isn't really focused on Shouyou, but I wanted to have a little break just before the ball drops because I couldn't resist stretching things out for just a little longer ;) Hope it wasn't boring!!
Chapter Text
Koushi knocks over the bucket of wet clothes as he sprints across the alley. Yuu is already bent over Shouyou’s cowering form, and Ryu is squatting next to him. Tadashi shuffles uncertainly behind the other betas, clutching his cast and peering nervously over their shoulders. Before Koushi can reach them, Kageyama is shoving Yuu out of the way.
“Hey!”
“Hinata.” The alpha drops to his knees, ignoring Yuu. “What’s wrong? Are you hurt?”
Koushi doesn’t give himself time to think critically about the tone Kageyama is using. Nudging Ryu out of the way, he cups Shouyou’s face and feels his forehead. A fever burns hot beneath his palm. The ginger clutches his stomach, his neck dripping with sweat.
“Talk to me, Shouyou,” Koushi prompts. “What’s wrong?”
“My stomach,” the boy wheezes. “I feel sick.”
“Suga.” Koushi can’t look away from Shouyou’s face. He’s frozen. Ryu places a hand on his shoulder. “Is it what I think it is? Could he be …”
The sentence hangs heavy in the air. Slowly, Koushi nods.
“Here—I’ll take him—”
“No.” Kageyama’s hand stills. Koushi slides an arm under Shouyou’s knees and pulls him against his chest. “I’ve got him.”
“Do you want us to prepare a futon upstairs?” Yuu asks.
Koushi shakes his head. “I’m taking him to the bedroom.”
Questioning eyes follow him as he carries Shouyou into the apartment. Asahi lingers by the front door looking lost, and Kei sits at the table revising his summer homework.
Koushi stops at the doors to the bedroom and turns to Asahi. “Go across the street and tell Daichi that Shouyou is Presenting. Tell him I have everything under control.”
“Sugawara!” Asahi nearly jumps out of his skin as Kageyama comes barrelling through the doorway. “Will Hinata be OK? Is there anything I can do to help? Do you want me to keep him com—”
“No, Tobio.” The youngest alpha flinches violently, and Koushi regrets using his first name as a weapon against him. Softly, he continues, “I’d prefer it if Shouyou isn’t disturbed. I will leave the futons and any clothes you need outside the bedroom door.”
Without further comment, he places Shouyou on the tatami mat and slides the doors closed behind them. Shouyou hugs himself as Koushi lays out a futon at the far end of the bedroom. He helps the boy out of his clothes and into a pair of loose pyjamas before easing him under the covers.
Weakly, the ginger tries to push away the comforter. “’s hot.”
“I know it is.” Koushi places a hand on Shouyou’s burning forehead with a frown. “But your temperature will fluctuate and plummet throughout the spike, so try to keep under the covers. I’ll go get some—”
“Don’t,” Shouyou snatches his wrist, “don’t leave me alone.”
“I won’t. I’ll be back in—”
Shouyou’s eyebrows scrunch together and he lets out a whimper that pulls cruelly at Koushi’s heartstrings. “Please!”
Shoulders sagging, he runs a hand through Shouyou’s sweaty locks. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
Shouyou relaxes, and the pained look lessens. Koushi snatches Happy from where he sits by the mountain of pillows in the corner and tucks him under the comforter beside Shouyou’s head. The ginger snatches up the plushie, clutching it tightly to his chest.
“Kei?” Koushi calls over his shoulder.
The door slides open, but it’s Kageyama kneeling on the other side. “Do you need anything? I can get it for you.”
“He asked for me, idiot,” he hears Kei’s dry voice somewhere in the background.
“Either of you: get me a bowl of cold water, a washcloth and an empty bucket.”
“On it!” The door closes, and hasty footsteps can be heard scrambling around the kitchen area.
A moment later, Kageyama returns, placing the items by the door but never stepping into the room. “Anything else?”
“No thank you, Kageyama.”
“You’ll let me know if you need anything else, right? I’m much more reliable than Tsukishima.”
“Kageyama’s right. He is more reliable,” Kei calls.
Koushi rolls his eyes. The blonde’s only saying that so he doesn’t have to put in any extra effort.
“Yes, Kageyama. Now go finish your homework. I don’t want another call from Mrs Kubo.”
The alpha scowls. “I forgot my homework one time! One!”
“It was the fourth time in a month. Just—please, Kageyama. Don’t give me another thing to stress about tomorrow.”
“Fine.”
The doors shut. Koushi pulls the items over to the futon. He dips and wrings out water from the towel before placing it over Shouyou’s head.
“If you feel like you’re going to throw up, let me know.” He places the bucket near Shouyou’s head.
“Suga …”
“Mm?”
A hand peeks out of the comforter, searching for his. Koushi grabs Shouyou’s hand, giving it a squeeze.
“I’m scared.”
Me too.
“The fever will pass in a couple hours. I’ll be with you the whole time, yeah?”
The ginger turns his head into his pillow to stifle a cry, his body jerking from a sudden pain in his stomach.
“Are you—” but before Koushi can finish, Hinata snatches the bucket and throws up. Koushi pulls back his apricot fringe and rubs circles into his back, cooing reassurances.
It’s going to be a long spike. He can feel it.
*
At dinnertime, Asahi brings in some of the leftovers he’d re-heated in a wok, along with bowls of fresh rice. He can hear the hushed voices of their pack at the low table, none daring to speak any louder than church mice.
“How long has it been?” Asahi whispers, frowning at the lump that trembles beneath the covers.
Koushi checks his phone and rubs at his sore neck. “Four hours.”
As Shouyou whimpers through a fitful dream, Koushi helps Asahi pile the futons outside the bedroom. “Take your uniforms for tomorrow as well.”
“Grab my iPod!” Yuu whispers.
“And my magazines!” Ryu adds.
“Are you sure you don’t want to turn the light on?” Asahi asks, frowning into the darkness of the bedroom. “Or at least join us for dinner?”
“No, no. I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about me. Just focus on taking care of yourselves. Daichi’ll be home at the usual time.”
Closing the doors, he shuffles in the dark on his hands and knees until his fingers brush the corner of Shouyou’s comforter. Using the light of his phone, he sits on his heels and eats his dinner, listening to the boy’s irregular breathing.
*
The coffee table upstairs had been moved aside so there’s more room for Asahi, Yuu and Ryu to spread out their futons. Koushi folded away the low table so that the younger ones could sleep downstairs. Kageyama insisted on having his futon right outside the bedroom doors.
“The only room left is on the kitchen floor,” Koushi tells Daichi. They’re outside in the alley, since it’s the only place now where they can have a private conversation.
Daichi looks grimly prepared to suffer backpain for the next couple of days. “Alright. You’re sleeping with Shouyou, I assume?”
Koushi nods.
“How long now?”
“Eight hours.”
“Does it seem like it’s about to break anytime soon?”
Koushi looks up at the night sky. It’s a cloudless night, but the stars aren’t twinkling. They never are in Lower Tokyo.
The omega bites his thumb. “It might last throughout the night.”
“Poor Shouyou.” Daichi pulls him into a hug. Koushi takes a deep breath, melting into his boyfriend’s embrace. “You worry about him too much.”
“I can’t help it.” He fists the back of Daichi’s gi. “These children are going to be the death of me.”
*
Shouyou breathes in sharply and bolts awake, crying out for Koushi. Happy tumbles to the wayside.
The omega is already there, sitting by his side in the dark. He pulls Shouyou into a hug before the boy can panic. Shouyou buries his face in the side of Koushi’s neck and releases a sob so pitiful it almost makes Koushi want to cry along with him. The tears don’t last long. Barely a minute passes before Shouyou calms down, easing back into tiny snores.
Koushi gets under the covers and nuzzles the crown of Shouyou’s head. The stress falls away, and he reassures himself that everything will be OK.
It’s a thought that lulls him into a light slumber.
*
The sick days Koushi has been salvaging from work have finally come in use. He uses them to clear the whole week.
The apartment stirred at around six, when one of the boys—Ryu, judging by the weight of the footfalls—came downstairs to use the bathroom. Then Daichi woke up and started making breakfast, coaxing everyone else in the apartment from their slumbers.
Koushi gave Shouyou some painkillers before dawn, making him too drowsy to notice the omega slip away to see the boys off to school.
“How long now?” Daichi takes a sip from his coffee, eyes firmly on his newspaper. He’s frowning over an article about Senator Yachi, who’s been stirring up a bit of trouble in San Tokyo’s underbelly recently.
“Seventeen hours.”
The newspaper droops. Daichi stares at Koushi. “Is that normal?”
“Not unheard of,” Koushi yawns. “But uncommon, I guess.”
Daichi grunts and continues reading. “That boy never makes it easy for us, does he?”
With a small smile, Koushi places a kiss to his boyfriend’s temple and disappears into the bedroom.
*
Twenty-three hours. The spike lasts twenty-three gruelling hours before Shouyou finally Presents. And when it happens, Koushi isn’t even in the room.
Daichi had just left for the dojo, and Koushi triple-checked that Shouyou was sleeping before slipping away to quickly take care of last night’s dishes. His boys are usually good with their chores. It’s hard to ignore household duties in such a confined living space. They must’ve been stressed about school and the thought of cleaning up last night went completely over their heads.
A scream pierces through the apartment and Koushi drops a plate. It shatters in the sink. He tears off his rubber gloves, slapping them on the countertop and throwing open the bedroom doors.
“Shou—”
The ginger is staring at his hand. It’s covered in a translucent substance that gleams in the light. His step faulters.
“Oh Shouyou …”
Shouyou’s shoulders shake, and then the boy lets out a string of heartbroken cries. “No! No, no, no! Anything! Anything but this! I don’t—I can’t—”
A new scent seeps into the atmosphere, laced with a fresh breath of pheromones that snap Koushi out of his stupor. The younger boy pulls his knees to his chest and screams into his arms. Koushi crosses the distance and drops down next to Shouyou.
“It’s OK.” He reaches out for the ginger, but he flinches away, crying even harder.
“It’s not! It’s not OK! It’s not even going to be OK!” he wails. “I wanted to be an alpha. I wanted to be an alpha so bad. Why is this happening to me? S-Suga, I don’t understand … Why me?”
Big, brown eyes turn on him, red and angry with tears. They’re searching desperately for answers, and Koushi doesn’t have any. A lump gets stuck in his throat, and he feels tears stinging the corners of his eyes even though they have no right to be there.
“Noya and Tanaka told me I’d be an alpha, and I believed it. I’m so stupid.” Shouyou hiccups. “They’re going to treat me differently now. They’re going to treat me like I’m weak and useless.”
Koushi’s heart wilts. “No, they won’t.”
“Yes, they will!” Shouyou rubs his face furiously. “Everything’s going to change! Don’t treat me like I’m a child!”
‘You are a child’, Koushi swallows the urge to say. But he remembers what it was like to Present, that anger, that confusion, that fear. All at once it feels like you’re expected to grow up in the blink of an eye. This one moment that will define the rest of your life, and you don’t even have any control over it.
Carefully, he places a hand on Shouyou’s head. He half expects the boy to jerk away from him again; but Shouyou only tenses, and then gradually relaxes into Koushi’s caress.
“You’re not alone, Shouyou,” he croons. “Things will change, just as they have for everyone who has Presented. That won’t mean you’ll be loved any less, or that any of them will stop caring about you. Quite the opposite, actually.”
Sniffing, Shouyou peeks up from his knees. “Really?”
“That’s one of the benefits of being an omega.” Koushi chuckles. “You’ll always be cherished.”
“But … But …” Shouyou sniffs and wipes away his tears. Then he confesses in a small voice: “I wanted to be the world’s strongest alpha.”
Moving closer to wrap his arm around Shouyou’s tiny body, Koushi says, “You know what I think is even cooler than the world’s strongest alpha?”
“What?”
“The world’s strongest omega.”
With eyes brimming with tears, he looks up at Koushi. “Do you really believe that?”
“Yeah,” Koushi smiles through his own tears, placing a kiss to the top of Shouyou’s head, “I really do.”
The day is humid and sticky and gross, but Koushi cuddles with Shouyou under the comforter anyway, his hand carding through Shouyou’s tangle of curls. A nose tickles at his scent gland.
“Sugawara, you smell sweet. Like—like a watermelon. And if I close my eyes and I can see slices of watermelon on a food platter, with—with pineapple skewers and blueberries!”
“I know I do. It’s my scent.”
Scenting is always a surreal experience the first time you experience it. From a distance a scent is no more than a fragrance, a pleasant perfume that might attract brief attention. But scenting is a different thing entirely. Scenting evokes certain images in the mind that become intrinsically tied to your person. If you think of someone who you are strongly bonded with, you tend to think of the images associated with their scent.
The younger omega pulls away to gape at him. “Oh right! I can smell scents and stuff now! And that other smell, is that …?”
“Omega pheromones.” Koushi giggles. “Do you wanna know what you smell like?”
“I have a scent?”
Koushi snorts. “Of course you do, silly!”
Shouyou sniffs his own shoulder and frowns. “I don’t smell anything.”
“Well, you can’t smell your own scent. It’d drive you crazy if you had to smell yourself all the time.”
“Oh,” Shouyou perks up, “but you know what I smell like!”
Koushi rolls his eyes. “Yes, that’s what I just said.”
“Well, what’s my scent then? Is it something really cool like, I don’t know, rain or—or thunder?”
“Thunder?” Koushi thinks about whether or not he should break it to Shouyou that thunder doesn’t have a smell, but he thinks better of it. Maybe another time.
Pressing his face to the crook of Shouyou’s neck, he takes a big, exaggerated whiff. The younger omega shrieks and giggles, playfully trying to shove Koushi away.
“S-Stop! That tickles!”
A picture is painted beneath his eyelids of a cooling rack nursing cookies fresh from the oven, the tips of the chips lightly roasted; a flagon of milk sits beside it, the surface of the glass dotted with condensation.
Koushi breathes out a blissful sigh. “You smell like freshly baked choc chip cookies.”
“Wow. I’m like, a walking bakery! Ne, Sugawara?” Shouyou grins cheekily. “Does my scent make you feel hungry?”
The amusement of the question lasts a short second. He considers nibbling on Shouyou’s little ear and saying he’s ravenous, but it triggers a very unamusing thought that saps away all the sweetness of the moment. Because in its place he thinks of alphas. Alphas without faces or names, alphas with hunger blazing in their eyes.
Looking down at Shouyou, feeling his small body pressed against his, basking in the sweetness of his scent, a creeping anxiety begins to present itself. He’d been so caught up in reassuring Shouyou that he hadn’t had time to fully process the implications of the boy being an omega. An unmarked, virginal omega.
Oh no.
For Shouyou’s sake, he stays calm.
Freaking out will only undo all the careful effort he’d poured into soothing Shouyou into a semi-comprehensive state of mind.
“Sugawara? What’s wrong?”
Koushi blinks. Shouyou stares at him. “Huh?”
“You went pale all of a sudden. Also, you didn’t answer my question.”
“Your question?”
“Does my scent make you feel hungry?”
“N-No.” Not Koushi, anyway. But an alpha … “How are you feeling? Do you want me to run you an ice bath? That always makes me feel better during my heats.”
Shouyou rubs his knees together and makes a face. “I think I need a bath. I feel—” he grimaces “—dirty.”
After preparing the bath and helping Shouyou into the water, Koushi tells him to give him a shout when he’s ready to get out. Once Koushi’s alone in the kitchen, he leans against the bathroom door, his thumb wedged between his teeth.
His phone vibrates and he nearly has a heart attack.
‘Is the spike still going?’ It’s a text from Daichi. ‘You should take him to the hospital if he hasn’t Presented by 4.’
‘He’s Presented.’ He gnaws on his bottom lip. ‘You need to cancel your classes and come back home.’
Not a minute passes before Daichi calls him. Koushi ducks into the alley outside and answers. At first, neither say anything. He can hear the pre-schoolers in the background practicing with the kiddie punching bags.
Daichi exhales sharply. “Don’t tell me …”
Swallowing, he looks ahead to where the sign for Daichi’s dojo sits above the ramen shop: Come Train with Grandmaster Sawamura Daichi! “He’s an omega.”
“F—” Koushi hears a door close. Daichi must’ve stepped out of the dojo so he wouldn’t have to swear in front of the kids. “Fuck. This is bad.”
“I know.”
“And he thought he was going to be an alpha …”
Koushi groans, slapping a hand over his face. “I know.”
“Is he OK?”
“I’ve put him in an ice bath. He’s not … He’s upset.”
Daichi sighs. “Of course he is! I kept asking Yuu and Ryu to stop pumping his tires but they wouldn’t listen!”
“I think it’s a little more complicated than that.”
“Well yes, but they weren’t helping.”
“They’ll be back soon. I need you here.”
Daichi sighs again. “I’ll have to make a few phone calls. You’ll be OK for an hour or so?”
“Yeah, yeah. I can hold down the fort until then.”
“Stay strong.”
Koushi ends the call and checks on Shouyou.
Thankfully, Daichi arrives a little before he’s expecting the rest of the pack home from school. Shouyou is resting. An ice bath staves off the heat for an hour or two, so in that time Shouyou needs to get in as much sleep as possible.
His boyfriend kicks off his shoes at the door, a plastic bag with his gi in it slung over his shoulder. Koushi sits at the low table with a cup of iced tea. He can feel the frown on his face beginning to rapidly age him.
“We’ll have to take him out of school,” Koushi says, running a hand through his hair. “It’s too much of a risk.”
“I’ll call the school tomorrow.” Daichi joins Koushi at the table.
“But he’ll still need an education.”
“We could invest in a computer and get him into online classes?”
“We don’t have the money. But it’s fine I’ll—I’ll quit my job and home school him.”
Daichi shakes his head. “That’s not fair on you. You love your job.”
“Shouyou is more important.”
“How about a compromise? You could switch to parttime, I could cut back my classes, and we can teach him on different days of the week.”
Koushi looks up at the ceiling, tears welling in his eyes. “Daichi, we—” his bottom lip trembles “—if we stay here, Shouyou won’t be able to leave the apartment. There was always a risk even before he Presented, there was that time he almost got snatched but now—it’s not just a possibility anymore. Someone will try to hurt him.”
Reaching across the table, he holds Koushi’s hand in his own. “We’ll protect him.”
But Koushi only shakes his head. “The other rogue packs … They’ll find out. A white pin? In Lower Tokyo? Are you fucking kidding?”
Daichi flinches. Koushi almost never swears. He’s so frustrated by the situation he can’t find it in himself to apologise.
“We can’t even stop people from robbing our apartment. If it happens again and Shouyou’s home alone …”
His boyfriend takes his hand away, and through tears he watches his strong, calloused hands curl into fists.
“I’ll take care of it. I’ll find a way to move us out of Lower Tokyo.”
“How?”
“Just leave it with me.”
There’s something in Daichi’s tone that convinces Koushi not to press the issue.
They sit in uneasy silence until the kids come home. Ryu is the first through the door, his lips pulled back in a grin.
“Woah! You baking cookies, Suga-san? It smells fuckin’ delicious in here!”
“Firstly, don’t swear. Secondly, sit down. All of you. We need to talk.” Koushi and Daichi sit with their backs to the bedroom door, staring at them with grave anticipation.
“Someone die?” Yuu jokes.
Kei almost trips and Kageyama stiffens, sniffing the air like he doesn’t trust his own nose. Asahi awkwardly sits next to Daichi, and they exchange a brief look that explains everything the brunette needs to know.
“Shouyou Presented as an omega,” Koushi announces once everyone is seated.
Yuu and Ryu, for the first time, are speechless.
Kei crosses his arms over his chest, grinning smugly. “Called it.”
“For once, I was hoping you were wrong, Tsukki.” Tadashi sighs, running his hand over his cast. New doodles have appeared since Koushi saw it this morning. They aren’t as innocent or cute as the little figures Shouyou, Yuu and Ryu drew.
Kageyama leans forward, frown fully pronounced. “Are you sure?”
Kei snorts. “Are you so braindead you lost the ability to smell? It’s overbearing. I’d crack a window if it wouldn’t attract half the alphas in Lower Tokyo. Not that I’d expect anything less from Hinata. His attention-seeking extends into his own biology.”
“This is dangerous,” Asahi says. “He’ll be the only omega at school.”
“He won’t be going to school anymore. We’re pulling him out,” Daichi says.
Kageyama slams his hands on the table. “You can’t do that!”
Their leader folds his arms. “Yes we can, Kageyama. And we will. It’s too dangerous for him to go to school now that he’s an omega.”
“I can protect him. I won’t let him out of my sight.”
“You can’t protect him, even if you are one of my best students.”
“Why d’you care if Hinata goes to school?” Kei asks slyly. “Is it ‘cuz you don’t have any other friends to hang out with?”
“Shut up, Tsukishima.”
Tadashi digs his teeth into his bottom lip, his eyes flitting from Kageyama to Koushi to Daichi. He looks as if he wants to say something, but doesn’t.
“Things are a little up in the air right now,” Koushi says. “But Shouyou was very upset to learn of his status, so when his heat is over, I want you guys to treat him as you always have.”
“Of course we will,” Yuu says confidently. “Why would anything change? He’s still Shouyou. It doesn’t matter if he’s an omega.”
“Yeah!” Ryu exclaims.
“He’s still Shouyou,” Kageyama agrees. “But it’s naïve to say that nothing will change.”
“Why the hell would anything change, smartass?” The short beta glares at him.
Kageyama’s hands ball into his fists. “You have no idea what this means, do you? An omega like Shouyou … Even my ex-pack talked about omegas … Oikawa described them as rare pearls hidden in mountains of garbage.”
Yuu frowns. “What do you mean? ‘An omega like Shouyou’?”
Their conversation is interrupted by a knock at the door. Everyone at the table tenses.
“Were you expecting someone?” Daichi asks Koushi.
The omega takes a moment to think, and then realisation hits him. “It’s Monday!”
“Yeah?”
“I forgot to tell Sakusa not to come!” He throws himself at the front door.
The alpha has his fist raised as though he’s about to knock again. Koushi doesn’t give him time to react before shoving the alpha into the alley and slamming the door behind them.
Distressed, Sakusa whips out a can of disinfectant and sprays the area where Koushi had touched him.
Before the alpha can get in a word, Koushi says, “You have to leave.”
Sakusa rapidly blinks at him. “Is something wrong?”
“No, everything’s fine. But you have to leave.”
He can’t see Sakusa’s expression through his mask, but he imagines his lips pulled down in displeasure. “A simple phone call could’ve saved me the trip.”
“I know. I’m really sorry. Something suddenly came up and you can’t be here. We’ll still pay you, though.”
“Will you need me on Wednesday?”
“No. You … We can’t afford lessons anymore. Money’s tight, you know?” He rubs his arm awkwardly.
Sakusa quirks an eyebrow. “We can renegotiate rates if you’d like?”
“No!” The alpha flinches in surprise. Koushi shakes his head. “Sorry—I mean, it’s a lot of money and we don’t think the kids need the extra help anymore.”
“Hinata and Kageyama are failing Japanese,” Sakusa deadpans.
“Yes, well—nothing’s changed in the three years you’ve taught them, so I guess it’s a waste of money.”
Sakusa’s shoulders sag. “Oh.”
“I-I mean!” Koushi waves his hands in front of him. “I’m not saying you’re a bad teacher! I’m saying Kageyama and Shouyou are bad students!”
“I guess I can’t argue with that logic …”
“Yeah, yeah, look—I’m sorry but, you have to go. Like, now.” He moves to push Sakusa towards the mouth of the alley, but the alpha immediately backs away.
“I’ll leave, I’ll leave! Just don’t touch me!”
“S-Sorry. Give our love to Bokuto and Kuroo.”
“I will.”
Koushi doesn’t move until Sakusa is out of sight. Then he breathes a sigh of relief, entering the apartment and locking the door behind him.
“That was a close one,” he says.
“Why didn’t you just tell him the truth?” Tadashi asks. “He’s just a citizen from Middle Tokyo, isn’t he?”
“He’s not a citizen,” Daichi says. “He’s a rogue from the West Side.”
Kageyama frowns. “I thought rogues avoid crossing territories?”
“They do. Nobody knew Sakusa was visiting us.”
“This whole time?” Tadashi gapes.
Daichi shrugs. “Things are a little lax in Lower Tokyo. The upper echelon doesn’t come here often, so unless they hear from a third-tier pack, they won’t know that rogues from other territories have been here.”
“But why take that risk at all?” Asahi asks.
“He was recommended to us by a friend of mine.”
“Sakusa has also risen up the ranks since he started teaching you guys.” Koushi peers out the window above the sink. “I thought he’d quit so he could focus on his duties, but maybe he felt obligated to continue coming here.”
“Gotta say, I never pegged Sakusa as a rogue,” Kei drawls. “We’re either born in filth or brought down into it. The thought of Sakusa surviving in Lower Tokyo is a bit ridiculous.”
“Maybe growing up in Lower Tokyo made him a clean freak,” Tadashi muses.
*
Koushi is cleaning the dishes. The TV’s on upstairs, and his pack’s quiet voices trickle down into the kitchen. The pack have been walking on eggshells ever since they got home from school. Maybe it’s because he’s one hair shy of having a mental breakdown, or maybe they’re doing it out of consideration for Shouyou; it could even be a combination of the two.
Daichi places a kiss on his cheek as he reaches for a tea towel.
“You’ve been quiet since dinner,” his boyfriend comments, drying a plate.
“I feel guilty.”
“For firing Sakusa?”
“Oh, no. Not that.”
Koushi’d actually completely forgot about that. Poor Sakusa. He makes a mental note to text the alpha later to make sure he hasn’t taken things personally.
“Does it have to do with Shouyou?”
“Yeah.” He rests his arms on the rim of the sink. “Part of me … God, it’s so awful but … A little part of me was hoping he’d be an omega.”
Daichi’s hand stills on the dish in his hand. “Really? You didn’t seem too happy when you gave me the news.”
“I know, because it’s unfair that Shouyou has to go through this. It’s not an easy thing to accept, regardless of whether you care about your status or not.”
“So how come you were hoping Shouyou would be an omega?”
“It’s not like I was hoping that Shouyou specifically would be an omega but … when we decided we’d make our own pack, I wanted there to be another omega besides me. You know, just someone else I could relate to.” Koushi abuses the bottom of a pot with a steel scourer. “It gets lonely sometimes.”
“You never told me that.”
Koushi shrugs, sadness welling in the pit of his stomach. “I got my wish though, didn’t I?”
The wood of the staircase squeaking pulls their attention to the other side of the room. Tadashi nods at them nervously, then looks over his shoulder as if checking to make sure nobody followed him.
“Hey Tadashi.” Koushi smiles. “What’re you watching? Not that dating show Ryu’s obsessed with?”
Even if they were, he couldn’t imagine they’d be getting much out of it, what with the TV being horrifically unwatchable at the moment.
“No.” The beta laughs nervously. “Just some sports anime. It’s pretty good so far.”
“I’m glad you’re enjoying it.”
“Yeah …” Tadashi lingers behind them, hands gripping the hem of his shirt.
“You want to tell me something,” Koushi accuses, pulling the plug in the sink and turning to face the beta. “Go on. I’m listening.”
“Is this something you want to tell Koushi in private?” Daichi finishes putting away the last plate in the overhead cupboard. “I can leave if you want.”
“Actually, I think you both need to know,” Tadashi whispers.
Koushi and Daichi lean in. Tadashi glances at the stairs.
“I’m not supposed to tell you this, but now that Shouyou’s an omega, I’m worried something bad might happen.”
“You can tell us anything,” Koushi encourages.
“We only want what’s best for all of you,” Daichi adds.
It takes a long moment until Tadashi says anything; when does, his eyes are fixed firmly at his feet. “Shouyou and Kageyama have been dating secretly for months. Tsukki and I only found out recently—and we promised we weren’t going to tell—but now that Shouyou’s an omega … and Kageyama’s an alpha … Someone might get hurt.”
Koushi leans back against the sink for support. Strange that he can be both surprised yet unsurprised at the same time. But that doesn’t mean he isn’t numb with fear.
“How long?” he asks softly.
“About six months.”
“Six!” Daichi yells. Koushi elbows him in the ribs and Daichi grimaces, lowering his voice to an angry whisper. “This has been happening under our noses for six whole months!”
“You were right to come to us, Tadashi.” Koushi places a hand on the beta’s shoulder. “I know it mustn’t have been easy.”
This doesn’t provide Tadashi with any relief. “What will you do?”
It’s a tough question. One rule that he and Daichi always follow when it comes to making judgement calls is that they must have their pack’s best interests at heart. It’d only been a couple of months since Yuu and Asahi asked for their blessing, and they’d given it gladly. But this isn’t Yuu and Asahi. Kageyama is an emotional soul. His control has been improving in leaps and bounds since he first Presented, but he still has a long way to go.
And Shouyou …
“Will you tell Kageyama to come down here please?” Koushi asks.
Tadashi stiffens. “What? R-Right now?”
“Yes, right now.”
Without another word, the beta goes upstairs and Kageyama comes down. Koushi doesn’t miss the way his eyes linger on the bedroom doors before he turns towards them.
“You want to talk about something?” the youngest alpha asks.
“Take a seat.” Daichi nods towards the low table.
The three of them sit down, Daichi and Koushi on one side, Kageyama on the other. Their youngest packmate is trying his best to remain calm. Koushi can see the wheels turning in his head as he tries to figure out why he’s been called downstairs.
“Am I in trouble?”
“Yes,” Daichi says sternly.
“Sort of,” Koushi tries softening it.
Even though they’re only five years older than their youngest packmates, there are times where he feels like an actual parent. This is one of those times. Kageyama has his shoulders up to his ears as if bracing himself for a scolding.
“We were just informed about your relationship with Shouyou,” says Daichi. “When we had that conversation about you and Shouyou, I thought we agree you’d take things slow.”
Kageyama’s head snaps towards the hole leading upstairs, his face twisting into an ugly snarl. “Yamaguchi. That bastard!”
“Never mind Tadashi. He only told us out of concern for Shouyou.” Koushi gives the raven-haired alpha a reprimanding look.
“You disobeyed me,” Daichi continues. “You knew I wouldn’t approve. Why else would you keep your relationship a secret? I thought you were more responsible than that, Tobio.”
Kageyama looks down at his lap. He doesn’t like being called by his first name. He said it reminds him too much of his ex-pack. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry doesn’t cut it.” Kageyama flinches. “What if you’d hurt Shouyou? How could you have been so thoughtless?”
“I haven’t hurt him. Not since that day we found the body in the alley.” He’s getting defensive. “I’m really good with him! I swear! We haven’t even had sex or anything! Ask Hinata if you don’t believe me!”
“Even if you were …” That pesky emotion known as sympathy pulls at Koushi’s heart. “Kageyama, this relationship you have with Shouyou can no longer continue.”
“What!” The alpha leaps to his feet. “You can’t do that!”
Koushi remains calm, even if the pain in Kageyama’s voice is hurting him. “You remember how difficult things were for you back when you first Presented. Things are very delicate with Shouyou right now, and it’ll remain that way for a while.”
“You’re worried I’ll hurt him again!” Koushi doesn’t meet Kageyama’s glare. “How could you ever think I’d do that? What the hell would you know about what we share? It’s not like you care about Hinata—not like I do!”
Koushi looks into Kageyama’s cold, stormy eyes, the tendon in his jaw twitching. “Don’t you ever try and imply that you care for Shouyou more than I do.”
Kageyama backs down a little bit. “I—I’m sorry.”
“Sit down,” Daichi orders, and the boy quickly complies. “You and Hinata can’t be together. This is something you have to accept.”
“I won’t accept it.” Kageyama shakes his head. “Hinata needs me now more than ever.”
“And if you hurt him?” Koushi asks. “Could you live with that?”
Kageyama grits his teeth. “I won’t hurt him.”
“You’re right. You won’t hurt him.” Koushi rises, staring Kageyama down. “You won’t hurt him because you’ll never be alone with Shouyou ever again.”
Daichi looks up at him in surprise. “Koushi …”
But Koushi doesn’t want to listen to Daichi’s reason. Blood’s pumping in his ears and he can’t hear anything else. He knows. He knows he can’t keep Kageyama and Shouyou apart forever. He knows Daichi only meant for a few years until they have full control over their own bodies. But he’s angry and can’t stop himself.
The thought of Kageyama hurting Shouyou is too real in his head. And for the first time he feels resentment—if just in this fleeting moment—for the child he took in off the street. Because Kageyama isn’t that shy twelve-year old with bony shoulders and an adorable attitude anymore. He’s an alpha.
Koushi slips into the bedroom and slides the doors closed, engulfing everything in total darkness. As he shuffles towards Shouyou’s futon, he tries not to think about the hurt in Kageyama’s eyes as he’d turned his back on him.
Notes:
... everytime I write 'ginger' I think of Tim Minchin's 'Prejudice' and then I don't know what to do with myself.
Anyways, I FINALLY got there in the end. Aren't you proud of me? PLOT PLOT PLOT from now on!! YAAAY!! Super excited!! Also thanks for all your lovely comments I cherish them so much!
Chapter 10: A Lesser Evil
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The bell for the entrance chimes as he follows Kageyama out into the baking summer heat. The contrast from the dimness of the corner store to outside is blinding. Shouyou squints, hugging the magazine he’s hiding underneath his shirt, the waxy cover sticking to his stomach. Happy is there too, soft against his folded arms.
As Shouyou hops down the steps, he’s struck by how familiar everything is.
This moment … this scene … It’s happened before.
And as if his neck wills it, Shouyou turns towards the old men that sit outside the corner store. An omega sits on the knee of an alpha that has his slacks pulled up to his tits, the omega heavily pregnant. As if sensing his stare, the omega looks up, their eyes locking. Browns eyes, hollow and lifeless beneath a fringe of orange curls.
The horror is swift and painful.
Shouyou jerks awake with a cry.
The initial shock is so strong he’s almost convinced it’s a day like any other.
Sunlight peeks through the bedroom windows. Given the angle, he guesses it’s around noon. Chirping echoes in the alley outside, teasing him with pleasant weather.
And then the heat comes crashing back like the shore on a stormy night.
Collapsing back on his pillow, he fights the urge to rip his clothes off.
Nobody warned him just how bad heats are. In health class the description Mr Goto gave was that it’s a combination of fever, arousal and lethargy. There was no mention of skin sensitivity, or itchiness, or nightmares. Even the self-lubrication was seriously downplayed. How could they lie to them like that, knowing that at least a small percentage of the students would eventually have to deal with this stuff?
He just—! He feels cheated!
Moving on his side is a mistake. He can feel wetness crawling down his inner thigh. He clutches Happy, squeezing his eyes shut as tight as they’ll allow.
It’s his third day in heat. Each day is like a dream. There are times where Shouyou can’t even tell if he’s sleeping or if he’s awake. Things are told to him that he remembers in fragments, and there are things he says that he isn’t even sure he means or understands. There are things he can point to that clue him in though. Sugawara is the only person he sees when he’s awake, so it’s safe to assume that when he’s around it must be real. When it involves others, it must be fiction.
“Ah, you’re finally awake.”
Shouyou blinks, the corners of his vision blurry. The air smells vaguely of watermelon. Sugawara’s pretty smile comes into view and he reaches for him.
“Suga …”
“Mm? Are you hungry?” A hand cups his face. It feels cool. Shouyou leans against it, then frowns.
Hungry? Is he hungry? He can’t tell. “Bath.”
“You want another ice bath?”
Shouyou nods.
Sugawara says something and disappears, but Shouyou isn’t listening. Something’s aching and he doesn’t know what to do. He wants … something. He doesn’t know what exactly he wants, but it aches in the core of his belly and has his toes curling.
While Sugawara is gone, Shouyou spends his time tossing and turning. He pulls at his pyjamas and whimpers. It’s infuriating. It’s like his body is telling him something but he doesn’t understand the language.
Arms gentle and considerate pull Shouyou out of bed and whisk him away. Grasping the front of Sugawara’s shirt, Shouyou pushes his face into the side of his neck, eagerly searching for the immediate comfort the omega’s scent brings. Images dance and sooth the Ache for a while, like rubbing aloe vera over a bad sunburn.
His clothes slip off his body and he moans. With the itchiness gone, Shouyou hugs himself and nuzzles his nose into his shoulder. Where is he again? Oh, the bathroom.
Why’s he in the bathroom again?
“Okay, are you ready?”
“Ready for what?” Shouyou whines.
Sugawara slaps a hand over his mouth catch his giggle. “For your bath.”
“Yes.” Shouyou drags out the ‘s’ for a few seconds.
He’s eased into the water. The ice shocks his skin, almost like an open flame, but it feels amazing.
“Give me a yell when you’re ready to get out.”
“Mm-hm.”
With his eyes closed, he slowly sinks under the surface until he’s fully submerged. The freezing embrace is like taking an injection to the neck. All at once the lethargy, the arousal and the fever recede, and he resurfaces with a gasp. For what is the first time today, he’s struck by clarity, seeing and processing his surroundings as he would if he weren’t in heat.
Shouyou rubs his face. God help me.
How do omegas go through with this once every three months for the rest of their lives? How would any of them deal with it alone? Without Sugawara he’d be a complete mess.
As Shouyou bathes, he tries not to think too hard about what his life would be like if he were still a stray. If he hadn’t met Kageyama, Yamaguchi and Tsukishima, and then eventually the members of Karasuno. Rogue packs recruit young. By a certain age it’s either sink or swim, and most hit the bottom before they’ve even Presented.
Shouyou stays in the bath until the last ice cubes melt to water. Even though he’s thinking clearly, his body is still weak. He needs Sugawara’s help getting him out of the bath. The older omega dries him and carries him back to the bedroom, where a fresh pair of pyjamas are waiting—and Happy, too.
Guilt ebbs away at Shouyou as he takes note of Sugawara’s appearance. Bags sit darkly under his eyes and his skin is chalky white, as if he hasn’t had a decent sleep in weeks.
“How can you stand this?” Shouyou asks as he struggles to shove his arm into a sleeve. “This is worse than being sick.”
“It’s a lot like being sick, isn’t it?” Sugawara muses good-naturedly.
“Is it because you have Daichi? Does Daichi run you ice baths and take care of you?”
“When he has the time. The first heat is always the worst, though.”
“Maybe …” Shouyou blinks sluggishly, watching Sugawara spread out a new futon. The old one must need a clean. “Maybe next time Kageyama can help me.”
Sugawara snaps his head towards him. “I don’t think so, Shouyou.”
He pouts. “Why not? I mean yeah, he’s kind of an ass, but he’s also caring sometimes too. Especially when I need help with something.”
Sugawara gets under the covers first, then pulls Shouyou in with him, his arms wrapping around him nice and snug. Shouyou squirms a little, getting comfortable, readjusting Happy so that he’s squashed between their bodies. He sighs against Sugawara’s throat.
Shouyou feels the older omega swallow.
“Shouyou, about that …” Shouyou hums to let Sugawara know he’s listening. “We found out about you and Kageyama.”
His eyes snap open. Panic hits him in the back of the throat. “Found out what?”
“That you’ve been seeing each other in secret.”
Sugawara’s disapproving tone doesn’t bode well. Shouyou pulls away slightly. “Who told you? Was it Tsuki-shithead? ‘Cuz he promised us he wouldn’t tell and I know a few of his dirty secrets that I’m sure you’ll be interested in!”
“It doesn’t matter who told me. The point is that Daichi and I know, and we’ve had a chat with Kageyama about it.”
“You … You did, did you?”
Sugawara’s lips thin into a grim line. “We think that it’s best the two of you stop seeing each other.”
Shouyou pulls back completely, searching Sugawara’s face for any signs that he might be joking. But the older omega gives him this unyielding look, like his mind has been made up. Like there’s nothing in the entire Japanese lexicon that could possibly sway his opinion. Shouyou feels his stomach sink.
“Until when?” he forces out.
“It depends.”
“Don’t—Don’t say that.” Shouyou shakes his head furiously. “Until when?”
Sugawara thinks for a moment, then says: “Maybe two years.”
“Two years.” He recoils from Sugawara’s embrace like he’s just been slapped.
Honestly, it feels like he’s just been slapped.
“It’s just a rough estimate,” the silver-haired omega reassures quickly. “I’m just judging based off your time of Presenting and Kageyama’s rate of maturity.”
Hot tears blur his vision and he hates that he’s crying again. He’s cried almost every day since the spike hit him. Some of it has been hormones, but most of it has been about his status. As if he hasn’t been through enough, Sugawara has to drop this bombshell on him. He isn’t emotionally prepared to deal with this. Can’t Sugawara see he’s basically holding on by a thread right now?!
“Oh Shouyou …” Sugawara reaches for him, but Shouyou slaps his hands away.
“Don’t! I don’t want your hugs!” He turns his back to Sugawara and sniffs into the comforter. “How could you do this to me? Now, of all times … These last few days have been shit and then you just … I don’t understand.”
“I wanted to tell you before your heat ended,” Sugawara admits guiltily. “It wouldn’t be right to keep you in the dark about pack affairs, especially if you’re involved.”
“But he …” Shouyou sobs. “I like him. I like him a lot.”
A hand rubs his back. Sugawara sighs. “I know you do, Shouyou. Kageyama … he was very upset as well. But we’re only doing this to protect you.”
“Is this because he hurt me? Back then …”
The hand stills. “No.”
Shouyou glares at Sugawara over his shoulder. “Liar!”
“It’s not a lie,” Sugawara insists.
“This isn’t fair! You and Daichi started dating at our age! Why do we have to wait when you two didn’t?” Shouyou stuffs his face into the pillow and resists the urge to scream. It’s bad enough that Sugawara’s treating him like a toddler.
“Because you two are different.”
“And Noya and Azumane!” Shouyou sits up, the comforter pooling at his waist and Happy scrunched in his fist. “You let them be together!”
“You and Kageyama are different.” Sugawara sits up, pinning Shouyou with a look that makes him want to shrink away. “Shouyou, the both of you don’t have any self-control. Daichi has always been restrained and disciplined, even when he was your age, and by the time we’d started dating I’d been an omega for almost two years. You’ve only just Presented. You don’t have any idea the kind of influence you have over alphas, especially when you’re in heat.”
Shouyou looks away stubbornly.
“Having an alpha help you through heat isn’t just about lending a helping hand. You can’t just let anybody take care of you—even if they’re your friend or packmate. Being in heat is like being on drugs (as I’m sure you understand by now), meaning you have no concept of reality or time. You have no awareness or consent, only desire. Do you understand? If a person is going to help you through that, you have to trust them with your life.”
“I trust Kageyama with my life!” Shouyou snaps without thinking.
Sugawara grabs his arm. Shouyou flinches. “And what if you wake up from a heat and realise you can’t remember your first time? That you can’t remember if he used a condom? And all you have are bruises and blood between your legs?”
He looks at Sugawara in horror. “Stop.”
The older omega only grips him harder. “What if you turn around and tell Kageyama you regret everything? Could he live with that? Could you live with that?”
The tears come back with a vengeance. Shouyou collapses into Sugawara, shaking and crying. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry—”
Sugawara pulls him close, burying his hand in the back of Shouyou’s head. When he speaks, it’s much softer than it was before. “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you like that. I’m just scared—no, we’re scared for you. And I-I don’t like to think of Kageyama like that, like he could hurt you—but I’m also not willing to take that risk. Not with you.”
They sit, wrapped in each other’s arms for a while. Sugawara rocks them back and forth until Shouyou’s tears dry up. When Shouyou pulls away, he stubbornly beats back the pain and looks at the brighter side of things.
“I can still be friends with him though, yeah?”
“Of course.”
“Good. I don’t have any other friends to hang out with at school.”
“Yeah …”
“I wonder what school’s gonna be like now? It’s strange, you know, I don’t remember ever running into other omegas in my class—or even on the grounds.”
Sugawara swallows and closes his eyes. The same heavy feeling comes back in full force inside Shouyou’s gut. He knows whatever Sugawara is about to say isn’t good news.
“Shouyou, there’s something else I have to tell you.”
*
Shouyou’s heat lasts four miserable days; it’s the standard amount for an omega’s heat. On Wednesday night, the itchiness and fever gradually drain away from his body, and for the first time since his heat began, Shouyou could feel the cool summer’s air caress his skin. When he sits up in bed, the world doesn’t tilt on an axis; and when he lifts himself to his feet, he doesn’t stumble and fall. Energy seeps back into his limbs, and it’s like being born again.
He changes into a fresh pair of cotton pyjamas and tosses the dirty pair into the hamper. In a few strides, he opens the bedroom doors. Sugawara and Azumane are in the kitchen cooking dinner, and Noya is at the table practicing kanji.
All heads turn in his direction. Shouyou grins so hard his cheeks hurt. Even though it’s been a tough couple of days, there’s nothing in this world that could dampen his excitement. “It’s finally over!”
“Shouyou!” Noya springs at him. They topple and hit the floor, laughing. Noya nuzzles his nose. “I missed ya!”
“I missed you too!”
The beta nuzzles his scent gland. “You smell amazing! I just wanna eat’cha!”
“Stay still! I want to smell yours.” Shouyou shyly closes his eyes and smells Noya’s neck.
A glass of fresh lemonade sits on a porch table; a slice of lemon wedged on the rim, caught in sunlight. Mint sits atop the ice cubes, complementing the citrus overtones.
“Now I feel like lemonade popsicles,” Shouyou whines. Noya throws his head back and laughs.
“My scent’s pretty great, isn’t it? Here—lemme scent you.”
Sugawara clears his throat, and the two of them turn to see the older omega standing at the bedroom doors with his hands on his hips and a wooden spoon in his hand. “You two know how things work around here. Save it for the bonding circle.”
“Right!” Noya helps Shouyou to his feet. “When’re we gonna do that?”
“After Daichi gets back from work.”
“Ugh, that’s hours away.”
“You’ll live.”
“Debateable.”
Sugawara rolls his eyes and drifts back over to the kitchen. “Make yourself useful and start setting the table—and this time remember to put your pencil shavings in the bin!”
“Yes mum.”
Noya smirks and Shouyou giggles.
Tanaka and Tadashi hear the commotion and come downstairs to say hello. The youngest beta is sheepish, but won’t tell him why; he just shyly congratulates Shouyou on finally Presenting. Tanaka pulls him into a headlock and digs his knuckle into the crown of his head, also giving words of encouragement. It’s funny, Shouyou never really considered Presenting as an omega as a celebratory occasion, but the betas of their pack seem genuinely happy for him.
Steaming bowls of curry rice are put on the table, along with smaller side dishes of pickled radish and potato salad.
Before the others join them, Sugawara tells Shouyou to sit between Noya and Tanaka, which confuses him a little bit, but he does as he’s told. Kageyama and Tsukishima are the last to join the table. Shouyou expects Tsukishima to mock his status; he expects Kageyama to scowl and throw an insult right back at the blond; but instead, the two sit down and quietly eat their meals, avoiding eye-contact with Shouyou.
Azumane is quiet too. But Azumane is usually quiet.
Shouyou tries not to let it get to him. The curry is delicious, and he’s enjoying the attention Sugawara and the betas are showering him in. It makes him feel different, but in a good way.
As they wait for Sawamura to come back, Sugawara runs a bath and they each take turns washing. They usually bathe in pairs to save time. Before he Presented, he used to bathe with Tadashi (because Kageyama and Tsukishima are alphas, they got grouped together, much to both of their displeasure). But now that he’s an omega, he bathes with Sugawara (which is awesome because that means he gets to bathe first!).
When they’re done, they pile the futons back into the bedroom and prepare them for the night.
Sawamura gets home at the expected time of 11pm. Their leader is barely through the door before Shouyou is bouncing up and down in front of him. “It’s over! It’s finally over!”
The alpha laughs. “Wow. A greeting at the door? Aren’t I lucky.”
Sugawara claps his hands together and calls for the pack, “Boys! Daichi’s home! It’s time for the bonding circle!”
The ‘bonding circle’, as the pack calls it, is a ritual Karasuno have where after someone Presents, the pack come together to scent them for the first time. Tanaka described it as like an initiation. Until now, Shouyou hasn’t participated in a bonding circle. You have to have a scent to scent others, and in the two times it’s happened since they joined the pack, Shouyou hadn’t had one.
The low table is folded away and everyone sits in a circle on pillows. Sugawara tells Shouyou to kneel in the middle of the circle, and he feels nervous butterflies explode in his stomach.
“We welcome Karasuno’s second omega!” Sugawara claps.
The smile Sawamura gives Shouyou looks a little strained, but he reasons that he’s probably had a long day at work. “Congratulations, Shouyou. We’re very proud of you.”
“Congrats, Hinata!”
“Congratulations, Shouyou!”
Heat reddens his cheeks and he scratches the back of his head. “Thanks guys.”
“Now, come here, Shouyou. I’ll teach you how to scent.” Sugawara opens his arms and Shouyou crawls over to him. His nose goes to find the omega’s scent gland, as he’d done it so many times during his heat that it’s almost automatic.
The same sweetness of watermelon with pineapple and blueberry undertones washes over him, but there’s another layer of nuance that he hadn’t noticed before. “Oh! I can smell others on you!”
Sugawara nods wisely. “This is the purpose of scenting. To a trained nose you can smell a person’s entire history, from their friendships, to their packs, to their lovers—anyone they may have scented with.”
“That’s amazing!”
“Isn’t it? Since you’re new to it, my scent might be a little overwhelming, but can you pick up on who I might’ve scented with?”
Shouyou sniffs tentatively. “A beta—no, a couple of betas. And a couple of alphas too!”
“You’re smelling our pack,” Sawamura explains.
“That’s so weird!” Shouyou squeals. “And when we bond, others can smell me on you too?”
“Yep!” Sugawara smiles.
“Cool!”
“Now—all you have to do is rub your scent gland against mine. I’ll show you.”
Gently, the omega grazes his skin against Shouyou’s a few times. The contact sends tingles up his spine and a noise rumbles from somewhere in his chest and makes him jump. Sugawara pulls back, blinks, and then bursts out laughing. Half the pack laugh with him.
“What?” Shouyou blushes all the way to his hairline. “What was that? Why are you laughing?”
“You’re purring, idiot,” Tsukishima says, addressing him for the first time since he came down for dinner.
“Oh!” Purring is something that happens after Presenting, so he didn’t know what it felt like until now. He rubs his chest. “That felt strange.”
“You’ll get used it!” Tanaka slaps him on the back.
Mimicking Sugawara, Shouyou scents the omega, though he’s a little awkward. The same tingling runs down to his toes and he purrs. Sugawara purrs too, and they pull back to giggle at each other.
The betas scent him next. When he smells Tanaka, he sees himself on a beach, the fragrance of sand and seaweed strong in the air. Tadashi smells like honey and pine nuts, and the image in his head is of the inside of a cabin that shudders in an autumn storm.
After he’s scented Noya, that leaves the alphas of the group.
Sugawara pats him on the shoulder. “Go slow. Even though they know you, you’re still a new omega to them.”
Sawamura goes first. He’s the most mature out of the alphas. Every movement is more careful, more calculated than when Sugawara and the betas had scented him. He handles Shouyou like he’s made of glass.
Scenting an alpha is a different experience. It’s hard to put into words why. Shouyou has to chalk it down to pheromones. Encountering pheromones, as a newly Presented omega, is like discovering you’re at the bottom of a ladder you didn’t even know existed. And he’s not dumb. He knows there’s a hierarchy between the three statuses, but it’s not something he really thought about until now.
An omega’s pheromones—at least Sugawara’s pheromones anyway—bring comfort to him like a warm blanket and a block of chocolate might bring on a sad day. Tanaka, Noya and Tadashi’s pheromones make Shouyou feel playful and included, but with an underlying demand for respect. But by far, the pheromones of an alpha affect Shouyou the most, like a weight baring down on his shoulders, an order of submission that coils sickeningly in his gut.
“Relax,” Sawamura mutters in his ear. “Remember who we are. Don’t let the pheromones control you.”
When Shouyou closes his eyes, he sees damp soil getting stuck between his toes. He sees a rainforest, and inhales the scent of tree sap and moss.
Despite what Sawamura says, he doesn’t fully relax until the scenting is complete, and the pheromones that once intimated him now make him feel safe and grounded.
“See?” Sawamura ruffles his hair. “Not so scary now, am I?”
Azumane goes next, and it’s awkward from beginning to end. The alpha apologises three times before Shouyou has even smelt him. When he finally does, he sees himself at the peak of a snow-capped mountain, with flakes getting caught in his hair as dawn breaks over the horizon. It’s surprisingly refreshing.
Then it’s Tsukishima, and well—neither of them are looking forward to this.
“Make it quick. I’m getting a toothache just sitting near you,” the blond sneers.
Shouyou pokes his tongue out at him.
He clambers into the alpha’s lap and turns his head to the side, presenting his neck. The blond scowls, but scents him quickly. Tsukishima smells like the inside of a cave. He can almost hear the rhythmic dripping of water, and see the moonlight peeking through cracks in the jagged ceiling. There are elements of solitude and tranquillity that evoke the same calmness brought about by meditation. It’s very … Tsukishima.
Shouyou doesn’t linger on Tsukishima, and Tsukishima is glad for it.
The last person—and possibly the one he’s been dreading and anticipating the most—is Kageyama. Shouyou looks at Sugawara and Sawamura over his shoulder, asking permission, and they both smile encouragingly.
Very slowly, Shouyou fits into Kageyama’s lap, refusing to look him in the eye.
They hadn’t spoken about their relationship, or how Sawamura and Sugawara’s decision is going to affect them. This is his first introduction to Kageyama, as omega to alpha, and Shouyou would be lying if he said he isn’t equal parts terrified as he is curious. Ever since Kageyama Presented as an alpha, he’s wondered what he smelt like.
Kageyama places his hands on Shouyou’s hips, leans forward and scents him tentatively. Shouyou holds his breath. The purring that follows is involuntary, and he thinks about digging himself all the way to the earth’s core where he could burn himself to ash.
When Kageyama pulls back, his face is pink.
They stare into each other’s eyes. Shouyou tries to decipher the look on the alpha’s face. Is Kageyama angry? Happy? Relieved? Ugh, why is Bakageyama so hard to read sometimes!?
“Will you two hurry up and get it over with. I’m tired and we have school tomorrow,” Tsukishima complains.
Snapping out of it, Shouyou leans over and smells Kageyama’s scent for the first time. The dominant fragrance is overwhelmingly rosewood, with sweet undertones of fresh blackberries and bergamot. He pictures a glass bowl, filled to the brim with berries, sitting on a beautiful ornate rosewood table, slices of bergamot cut into wedges on a plate to the side.
His fingers tangle in Kageyama’s shirt, his teeth digging into his bottom lip.
Someone clears their throat and they pull apart. Shouyou scrambles off Kageyama’s lap, and returns to the centre of the circle, pretending that he hadn’t just fallen into heaven.
They complete the bonding circle with hugs and kisses.
Tsukishima doesn’t participate, and neither does Kageyama.
*
Sunday evenings in the red-light district are lowkey. Clients out for a goodtime are drawn to the popular Friday and Saturday night shuffles, and Sunday is largely reserved for people looking to be discreet. The usual suspects come to mind: the stressed salaryman who doesn’t have time to date; the married men and women that wear shades and caps inside; and the high-profile few whose political careers are on the line just by setting foot in this area.
As Daichi adjusts his baseball cap and avoids eye-contact with the sex workers smoking on the sidewalk, he’s beginning to think Oikawa is putting him in these situations on purpose.
The place Daichi was told to meet Oikawa comes into view. A black SUV with its windows tinted is parked across the road, its engine still running. He ignores it and descends the narrow staircase.
Music thuds in his ears. It’s so loud that he cringes. The bouncer outside the door at the bottom of the stairs gives him a once-over, his serious face brightening to a grin.
“Ey, you’re the Young Grandmaster!” The bouncer holds out his hand and Daichi shakes it, baffled. “Oikawa told me you were coming. Just go right on in!”
Smoke billows out the door as the bouncer pushes it open. The place is shrouded in a layer of vapour, the coloured lights silhouetting the dancers that bend and twirl around on the elevated stages. Before Daichi can take two steps into the club, a woman places her hand on his shoulder.
“Looking for a—hey! You’re the Young Grandmaster!” she exclaims over the deafening music.
Daichi almost combusts on the spot.
Another one sashays over, a man that exudes beta pheromones. He gives Daichi a sly grin and places a hand on his chest.
“You’re a handsome one,” is what he thinks the beta said, but he can’t hear him.
“Hey—he’s the Young Grandmaster!” the girl hanging off his arm yells to the male stripper.
Recognition passes across the beta’s face. “You’re like, a legend among the rogues! I hear about you all the time!”
“Thanks,” Daichi mutters, knowing full well he won’t be heard.
“Let me give you a free lap dance!” the girl says, tugging at his arm. “I’ve never given one to a Grandmaster before!”
“Really, I don’t think—”
“He’s so handsome I’d give him a blowjob for free if he’d let me,” the beta whines. The girl giggles.
“Come on!”
“No, I’m not here for—”
“Aw!” She pouts and stomps her foot. “Don’t be shy! I promise I’ll give you a good time!”
“Please, I love my boyfriend very much—”
“He doesn’t have to know,” the beta purrs in his ear. “We’re very good at keeping secrets.”
Daichi jerks away from them. “I said—”
“Is something wrong?” An older woman appears behind the younger strippers and they both immediately back off. She’s an omega, but she commands herself with authority.
“He’s the Young Grandmaster!” the girl explains.
“Daichi is fine,” he corrects quickly, his face burning. “I’m here to see Oikawa.”
“Oh yes, he told me you were coming. You two—” she glances between the younger strippers “—back to your stations.”
They bow their heads. “Yes, ma’am.”
“If you’d follow me, Sawamura-san, I’ll take you to Oikawa-san.”
Daichi couldn’t have been more relieved. The older omega guides him through to the very back of the strip club and through a curtain of beads into a hallway where the music can barely reach them. There are a few padded doors with circular windows looking into them, but Daichi doesn’t dare peek.
“I apologise if my strippers were a little aggressive,” she says. “Sundays aren’t always the most profitable, and they work on commission.”
“It’s fine.”
They come to a stop at a pair of double doors at the very end of the hallway. The padding on them is pink and tufted. The doors open into a private room. Velvet couches are situated around a small platform in the centre that has a pole going up to the ceiling. A disco ball turns slowly in the corner, and colourful lights spotlight certain places of the dim room.
A female stripper bends and turns on the pole. Oikawa, who’s sitting on one of the couches, howls and pulls the trigger on a money gun, raining the stripper in cash. He has two strippers under his arms, one female and one male. Iwaizumi sits on the other couch with a girl under his arm and a glass of gin in his hand.
Daichi is mortified.
“Hey! Young Grandmaster has finally shown up! See? I told you he’d come!” Oikawa says to one of the strippers. “More champagne for everyone!”
All the strippers clap and holler.
Daichi’s too shocked to be angry. The omega who brought him here guides him over to a seat next to Iwaizumi and Daichi sits down wordlessly.
“Would you like me to get you anything?”
“Shots. Lot of them.”
“That’s the spirit!” Oikawa hoots.
The omega nods and leaves. Koushi is going to skin him alive.
No matter where Daichi looks his eyes see tits and ass. The one draped against Iwaizumi is an omega, the one on the pole and the boy under Oikawa’s arm are betas, and (if he’s not mistaken) the other girl is an alpha. A mix of statuses is common in red-light districts. They’re usually scouted, coerced or forced into the industry before they’ve even Presented, so the traditional hierarchy that the middle and upper classes hold so dear don’t apply here.
But even in a place like this, omegas are the minority.
“Were you followed?” Iwaizumi asks, putting a dollar bill between his teeth for one of the strippers to take from him.
“No.”
“You look lonely—and tense.” Oikawa sweeps his eyes over Daichi’s posture. He then looks down at the boy under his arm. “Sugar, why don’t you give the man some company?”
“Okay!” The boy (who’s probably around his age), hops up and moves to sit with him.
And that’s where Daichi draws the line.
“No, absolutely not. Oikawa—get these dancers out of here. When I told you we needed to talk, I meant somewhere private.”
The girl under Oikawa’s arm straddles his lap and the alpha is distracted by her tits. “This is somewhere private. You don’t have to worry. These strippers got secrets they’ll take to the grave.”
“Everyone has a price,” Daichi grits out—meaning no disrespect to the strippers.
Oikawa looks up at the girl in his lap, feigning a wounded expression. “Pussy Slayer 9000, you wouldn’t betray me for money, would you?”
She grinds down on his crotch, looking up at the ceiling in thought. “Depends on how much they’re offering.”
Oikawa pouts. “Fine, point taken. Alright—” he claps “—time to scram my little buttercups! The Young Grandmaster wants me all to himself!”
The dancers groan, but quickly vacate the room. Daichi waits until the older omega delivers his shots, and he takes them all sequentially.
Iwaizumi pats him on the back. “Jeez, you had a rough week or something?”
“You could say that,” Daichi hiccups.
“Another year, another meeting in secret.” Oikawa gets comfortable, throwing his arms over the back of the couch and crossing one leg over the other. “I’m honestly a little hurt, Dai-chan. You only ever text when you want something from me. What about asking about my day over a cup of coffee? Is that too much to ask?”
“I didn’t think we’d be here again.” Daichi grimaces. “I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this.”
Oikawa and Iwaizumi exchange a look.
“Something change?” Iwaizumi asks.
“Shouyou Presented.” Daichi lowers his head, resisting the urge to hurl a shot glass across the room.
Oikawa’s lips curl smugly. “Is it as I predicted?”
Slowly, Daichi nods.
Oikawa taps his temple, leaning towards Iwaizumi. “What’d I say? Sixth sense.”
Iwaizumi rolls his eyes. “You weren’t the only one thinking it.”
“Still a virgin?” Oikawa purrs.
“Yes …” Daichi answers.
“Unmarked?”
Daichi bows his head. “Yes …”
Oikawa whistles. “Seems you’ve got yourself into a bit of a pickle, Dai-chan. I’m sure Shiratorizawa will come knocking at your door any day now.”
“They don’t know. Not yet.”
Iwaizumi’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline. “You mean you haven’t registered him yet?”
Daichi shakes his head.
“Ah ha! You’ve come to me because you want to make a deal!” There isn’t a planet in the solar system that could handle the weight of Oikawa’s smugness. “I could work with this. With Shiratorizawa left in the dark, we could apply for a pack union under the pretence that Shouyou is still Unpresented.”
“Whether they know or not, they’ll still be suspicious,” Iwaizumi points out. “Every move we make is heavily monitored.”
“Very true.” Oikawa runs a hand through his hair, wistful. “You see, my attempts at advancement have been swiftly denied at almost every turn. Ushi-kun is a petty bitch.”
Daichi coughs into his fist. “You did try to overthrow him.”
“Let bygones be bygones! All I want is a little dignity. And it’s been years. I’m not the same Oikawa Tooru I used to be!”
“You’re right. You’re much worse now.” Iwaizumi takes a sip of his gin.
“Cruel, Iwa-chan! Very cruel!”
“Is there a possibility we could pull it off then?” Daichi tries not to sound too hopeful. “Surely there’s a way for our union to be passed by the Approval Board?”
“There are things that could increase our chances, but nothing that would guarantee approval,” Oikawa says. “First, we need a good reason to want to join our packs. Being forthright about social climbing doesn’t blow over too well—you don’t want them thinking you’re ambitious or else you’ll make yourself a target—so there has to be a better excuse we can use.”
“Which is?”
Oikawa smirks. “The people on the Approval Board are a bunch of saps. If we can convince them that someone from each of our packs are in love, it would increase our chances at a pack union.”
“I’m not involving my omegas in this,” Daichi says bluntly.
“It doesn’t have to involve them.” Oikawa rolls his eyes. “You got any single packmates that are of age?”
Asahi is the only one in the pack aside from he and Koushi. “One of age, but he’s not single.”
“Has he marked anyone?”
“No.”
“Then great! We can have him play along for a little while—until the application is finalised, anyway.”
Guilt twists in Daichi’s gut. It’s not right for him to be making decisions on behalf of his packmates, but he also understands that certain sacrifices must be made to ensure everyone’s safety. Asahi won’t be happy; Yuu will be really unhappy, but they’ll just have to endure it.
“And do your earlier terms still stand?” Their eyes meet, Oikawa’s dark and calculated. “Will you use my omegas as pawns to better your position?”
Oikawa pulls the cocktail away from his mouth, about to answer, when a muffled yell can be heard from outside the room.
“Sir! Excuse me, sir! You aren’t allowed back there—”
The doors swing open and the three of them spring to their feet, Oikawa and Iwaizumi reaching for hidden weapons and Daichi sliding into a defensive position. But the moment their eyes fall upon the three men that come waltzing into their private conversation, all expectations of a fight extinguish.
Oikawa shoots Daichi an accusatory look. “You said you weren’t followed!”
“Now, now, children. Let’s not point fingers,” Tendou sing-songs. “But if you’ll allow me to settle the score, I was actually following you, Oika-chan. And I nearly left too—your visits to the red-light district are such a bore. But then—! Who sneaks into the same strip club but Grandmaster-san himself! We couldn’t believe it, could we Semisemi? You’re so disgustingly domesticated with Kou-chan that we couldn’t accept you going into a strip club in your down time. So—here we are! We’ve come to crash the party!”
Semi and Yamagata are behind Tendou; the former is as stone-faced as ever, and the latter is processing his surrounding with keen interest.
The older omega that Daichi had met earlier squeezes past them, looking frazzled. “I’m so sorry, Oikawa-san. We couldn’t stop them.”
“It’s fine, Ecstasy,” Oikawa says while looking murderous. “Leave us.”
The omega flees.
“And get us a bottle of vodka!” Yamagata yells after her.
Tendou drops down next to Daichi and throws an arm around him. Semi and Yamagata sit on either side of Oikawa, who sinks further into his seat like a kid who just got caught stealing from the cookie jar. Iwaizumi remains calm, but the way he avoids eye-contact with any of the members of Shiratorizawa gives away his nervousness.
“Now,” Tendou croons, leaning into Daichi, “tell me, why are the leaders of Seijoh and Karasuno meeting in secret?”
Notes:
I missed Oikawa TT^TT
also. sorry in advance for making Shiratorizawa villains. But also not sorry villain!Tendou is a blast to write XD
Chapter 11: Clipped Wings
Chapter Text
Neon red light peeks through the slits in the blinds, casting patterns across the upstairs lounge room. The window is open to let in a gentle breeze. It kisses Shouyou’s forehead as he sits with his chin on the back of the sofa.
It’s pretty late—or early, to be accurate. Everyone’s asleep, but Shouyou can’t relax. He was moving around so much he was beginning to feel bad for Sugawara, so he snuck away to be alone for a while. Thinking isn’t something Shouyou does often. For him everything is just go, go, go—don’t think, just act—consequence is a later problem!
But a lot has happened in the past week. Presenting isn’t just another thing he can stuff into a box and shelve for later. His omega-ness, he’s learnt, is a constant fixture in his life now. How did Sugawara describe it again? Omni—omni-something.
Every interaction, every thought, every consideration has now shifted despite how desperately he’d hoped it’d all just … stay the same.
Sawamura said he’s not allowed to go outside anymore.
On Thursday and Friday, his packmates left for school while Shouyou stayed at home (he pretended to sleep in and listened as Sugawara kissed them all goodbye); on Saturday, Tanaka and Noya played handball in the alley and then hung out at the arcade while Shouyou stayed at home. On Sunday, Kageyama, Tsukishima and Tadashi went out for ice-cream while—you guessed it—Shouyou stayed at home.
Now Monday is here. In a few hours, the others will get up and go to school. Shouyou wonders if he’ll have the courage to stand at the door and see them off this time.
Movement from downstairs grabs his attention. He hears the shuffle of shoes, the front door opening—but not closing. Shouyou peeks through the blinds and sees the top of a bald head in the alley. Tanaka? The drag of a match, the brief flare of a flame, and then the smell of smoke happens one after the other in that exact order.
And the beta says he’s not addicted.
More noise comes from downstairs not long after, this time the sound of someone coming up the steps. Kageyama is frozen on the top step, and Shouyou stares right back at him, struggling to respond.
“Hey,” Shouyou murmurs.
“Hi,” Kageyama whispers back.
The alpha eases onto the other side of the sofa, bars of neon streaks painting violence across his young face.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Shouyou asks.
Kageyama shakes his head. “I was sleeping fine until Tanaka woke me up.”
“How did you know I was up here?”
The alpha shrugs. “Not many other places you can hide.”
There’s a lull, and Shouyou goes back to drawing invisible lines in the back of the couch.
They haven’t spoken privately since before Shouyou Presented. It’s not like they didn’t try, but so much has happened that they’ve hardly been given the chance. There’s always someone getting in the way—mostly Sawamura or Sugawara, who’ve been keeping a close watch on their interactions. He knows they’re doing it out of concern. But that doesn’t mean he can’t hate them just a little bit for it.
“We should talk,” says Shouyou.
“Yes, we should,” says Kageyama.
And another silence follows. Tanaka snorts and spits in the alley. Shouyou makes a face.
“Sugawara says we can’t be together until we’re like, eighteen. It’s so lame.” Shouyou sighs.
“We could still keep things secret? I mean—we managed to do that for six months before Yamaguchi snitched.”
“So it was Tadashi who told them? Aw man.” He shakes his head. “This whole time I was convinced it was Tsuki-shithead. I’ve been giving him the cold shoulder and everything!”
“To be honest, I don’t think he cares either way.”
Shouyou breaths another sigh, doing a good impression of a petulant child, and plays with the blinds. “I don’t think it’ll work like it did before. The whole reason we were able to keep things a secret in the first place was because nobody suspected anything. Now Sugawara and Sawamura will be watching us like hawks—especially Sugawara.”
Kageyama scowls. “What’s his deal, anyway? He’s so protective of you.”
“It’s an omega thing,” Shouyou simplifies, knowing he can’t go into some of the stuff Sugawara’s been through. “I wouldn’t take it personally.”
“Yeah, well on Wednesday he said he was never going to let us be together. Like, ever.”
“He said that to you?” He scratches his head. “Weird. He never said that to me.”
“I think Sugawara might hate me.” Kageyama looks away, but even in the darkness Shouyou catches the pain on his face.
“That’s impossible. Sugawara loves all of us!”
“Easy for you to say! He adores you.” The alpha rolls his eyes with enough disdain to poison soil. “You’re definitely his favourite.”
“Am not!”
“Are too!”
Shouyou crosses his arms and lets this debate slide. If they get any louder, they’ll wake up the whole apartment. “Either way, I just don’t see this working anymore.”
Kageyama inhales sharply, like he’s just taken an arrow to the chest. And it’s hard. It’s really hard to hurt the people you care about, but Shouyou also doesn’t want to hold out on the hope that this can continue when he knows it’ll only make things worse in the long run. Sawamura and Sugawara would eventually catch on, and then what? They’ll never be allowed in the same room? Never allowed to look or speak to each other? Shouyou can’t let that happen, just like he can’t let Sugawara down. He promised he’d do as he’s told.
Like a good omega.
He scratches furiously into the couch.
“Will you wait for me?”
“Wait for you?” He frowns at Kageyama. He watches as a determined line forms on the alpha’s brow.
“Two years. Would you wait for me that long?”
“Kageyama …” Shouyou looks away.
“It’s a simple question,” Kageyama insists aggressively.
“Is it?”
“I’ll wait for you.” The look in Kageyama’s eyes is telling him that he means it. “For as long as it takes, I’ll wait for you.”
Happiness and butterflies fill Shouyou up all and once, and he’s about to say something when footsteps from the alley ruin the moment.
“Daichi?” Tanaka asks. “God, it’s almost three-thirty!”
“I know,” a groggy voice answers, undeniably belonging to their leader. “Are you smoking …?”
“Uh—no. Just out for some fresh air, haha!”
Both Shouyou and Kageyama peek out the blinds, and watch as the silhouette of Sawamura stumbles into the alley. Tanaka approaches him, steadying the older boy.
“You’re a mess, Daichi! And—” Tanaka sniffs “—you stink of alcohol.”
“I know,” Daichi groans. “Please don’t tell Koushi.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t. Where the hell have you been? Suga was super worried.”
“I had to … take care of stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“Stuff.”
“Alright, so this is going nowhere. Let’s get you in the shower.”
The front door closes, and they hear the two older boys in the bathroom. When they hear the shower running, Shouyou and Kageyama sneak back downstairs, returning to their respective futons without another word.
*
There’s an envelope delivered to them on Thursday morning that doesn’t have a return address. Trepidation crawls up inside Daichi as he opens it at the table while the rest of his pack eat breakfast. Koushi has already left for work. He has a month left before he goes on leave indefinitely so he can home-school Shouyou.
A bunch of access passes fall out, along with a letter. The flash of gold catches in the light, and Daichi doesn’t have time to react before Ryuunosuke’s reaching over to snatch up one of them.
“Oh ho! Is this …! Holy shit!”
“Wha’s tha’?” Yuu leans over with a mouthful of oatmeal.
“It’s an access pass to Upper Tokyo!” Ryu yells.
Daichi immediately snatches back the pass (along with the others) and pockets them. Opening an envelope—an unmarked envelope at that—in front of the kids was a stupid move.
“Forget you saw that.”
“Why do you need access passes to Upper Tokyo?” Asahi asks.
“I’ll explain later. Now eat up! You don’t want to be late for school!”
Just as they’re walking out the door, Shouyou appears at the shoji doors, rubbing his eyes tiredly.
“See ya, Shouyou!” Yuu yells over his shoulder.
“Have fun,” Shouyou yawns.
Ryu snorts. “Not likely!”
Daichi doesn’t miss how Shouyou’s and Kageyama’s eyes linger on each other as the alpha closes the door behind him. The omega shuffles into the bathroom and closes the door.
The ginger has been quiet around Daichi and Koushi lately. He still does as he’s told, and he’s still polite, but Daichi knows that the boy is hurting—not just over being separated from Kageyama, but also for being pulled out of school and essentially putting him on house arrest.
If only Daichi could explain to Shouyou just how precarious their situation is.
A transparent conversation over the political complexities of San Tokyo’s underbelly has been long overdue. The older ones (Asahi, Yuu and Ryu) have at least a vague idea, but overall he and Koushi have done their very best to keep them all in the dark.
To protect them, they’d reasoned, but deep down Daichi knew something dramatic would happen eventually, and their delicate little paradise of ignorance would fall apart at the seams.
Deeming it safe to finally read the letter, he unfolds it.
8pm tonight. Have your pack ready to go. Bring nothing but yourselves.
The sensation of a cold bucket of ice runs down his body. He pulls out the passes and counts them. There’s nine. One for each member of his pack.
He flips the letter over, but there’s no further explanation. Not that he should’ve expected one. The passes make the message clear: they’re going to be taken to Upper Tokyo. And even though Daichi tries his best to be the optimist, he gets the sinking feeling that some of them (or all of them) might not return home.
*
Sawamura has been making phone calls all morning. Shouyou watches his head move back and forth across the kitchen window from where he sits at the table. What it’s about he can only guess. Whatever it is though, it’s stressing Sawamura out.
Just like yesterday, and the day before that, Shouyou has to find stuff to entertain himself with. What’s a growing boy to do in a tiny apartment with a busted TV and books that make his head explode?
He has to settle for some of the exercise books Sakusa left him. Apparently after he Presented, Sugawara told the alpha to stop coming around, which makes him sad. He never got to say goodbye to him.
Sawamura comes back inside after like an hour, sweating a lot.
Shouyou almost says something, but then remembers he’s mad at the alpha and goes back to studying. And by studying he means staring at the kanji on the page until they melt away into little grey blobs. The activity doesn’t do much to get rid of the loneliness weighing against him.
Which is silly—he shouldn’t feel so bummed about missing school. He’s a terrible student. He can’t concentrate at all (even when he tries really hard), and with a classroom full of degenerates he still somehow sits at the bottom-half of the grades spectrum.
But it’s more the feeling of being left behind.
Today, Shouyou gathered the strength to get up and see them off to school. He watched as they turned their backs and left. He stayed behind. By himself.
And it hurts.
It’s around 2pm that Shouyou smells trouble.
Why isn’t Sawamura going to work?
He’s about to ask, but then goes back to drawing pictures. He’s not a good drawer, but paper and pencils were the only things he could find laying around the house.
Also, he’s still mad at Sawamura.
At 3ish, Sugawara gets home. Shouyou’s so bored that he almost throws himself at the older omega in relief, but then he remembers he’s angry at Sugawara too, and slams his face against the table. Normally Sugawara scolds him for self-harm, but the older omega is frazzled, following Sawamura into the bedroom and sliding the doors closed behind them.
Shouyou doesn’t get so much as a ‘hi’, and he’s offended.
The rest of the pack get back at 4ish.
Sugawara and Sawamura have yet to emerge from the bedroom. They’re still muttering furiously to each other about something, he just hasn’t figured out what.
“Thank god you guys are back,” Shouyou moans. “I’ve been so bored.”
“Consider yourself lucky,” Tanaka matches his moan in volume and effort. “School sucks just as much as it did yesterday.”
“Yeah, you aren’t missing much.” Noya plops down next to Shouyou and throws an arm over his shoulder.
“What’ve you been doing all day?”
“Nothing,” Shouyou whines dramatically.
“Surely Daichi has given you something to do?”
Shouyou pouts. “Firstly, I’m not talking to him—or Sugawara, either. Secondly, they’ve been too busy being weird today. Sawamura has been on the phone talking to—I don’t know—people. And then Sugawara comes back from work and he doesn’t even look at me. They’re so mean!”
“Where are they?” Azumane asks, stepping out of his school shoes.
He gestures behind him. “In the bedroom.”
“Maybe they’re getting it on?” Tanaka presses an ear against one of the doors. “Did Sugawara smell extra sweet when he got back?”
Shouyou wrinkles his nose. “Ew, Tanaka!”
“No—I mean, did he seem like he was in heat?”
“I don’t think so.” Shouyou frowns. “He just looked really stressed. They both did. They’re not doing it, by the way. You can hear them talking if you listen closely.”
Just as Shouyou says this, the doors pull open. Tanaka jumps back and nearly falls on the low table. The look on both Sawamura’s and Sugawara’s faces are enough to let them know that something’s wrong.
“Pack sit down?” Noya asks.
Sugawara nods. “There’s something important we need to discuss.”
They gather at the table. Shouyou scoops up his pencils and paper and tucks them away. Likely until he has to entertain himself tomorrow.
*
They stand as a pack on the sidewalk at 8pm in their best summer clothes. And by ‘best’ Shouyou means a shirt and shorts that don’t have holes or weird stains on them. Orange sunset blankets the streets. A group of strays play with a hose, and a girl on a bike whizzes past on the road with a black poodle hot on her tires. Urban life echoes from the alley behind them, of people hanging out their washing and music blasting from radios.
For once Lower Tokyo doesn’t seem all that bad.
Two black SUVs pull up across the road. Shouyou hides slightly behind Tanaka.
Sawamura takes a deep breath. “Let’s go.”
They’re split up: Sawamura, Sugawara, Shouyou, Tanaka and Kageyama in one car; Tsukishima, Tadashi, Noya and Azumane in the other.
There are two men in the front, both of whom he doesn’t know.
“Semi, Oohira,” Sawamura greets distantly.
The man in the driver’s seat with ashy blond hair merely nods. The one in the passenger’s seat turns to acknowledge them.
“How’re you fairing this evening, Sawamura?” the brunette asks.
“Good, and you?”
“Alright. Got the passes?”
Shouyou sits nervously between Kageyama and Tanaka in the back seat. He regrets not grabbing Happy on the way out—he was considering it, but Sawamura told them not to bring anything with them, not even their phones. They pull onto the road and drive through the sunset-bathed streets. Not another word is spoken. The tension in the car is drowning him, and judging by the tense lines of their shoulders, Tanaka and Kageyama are on the same page.
They eventually get on to a freeway tunnel. They stop at a gate and the driver talks briefly with the security person, flashing something Shouyou doesn’t see. When they resurface, it’s as though the city has changed completely. He almost doesn’t recognise that they’re still in San Tokyo.
He looks out the tinted windows at all the pristine buildings and clean sidewalks, the green trees, the lucent fountains, and the well-dressed people. He comes to the conclusion that this must be Middle Tokyo. It’s the tier he hears the most about in passing. The place the people of Lower Tokyo look to as a distant dream or a study motivator.
Some of the smarter kids in middle school used to talk about aiming for scholarships in Middle Tokyo high schools. Some even got there in the end. It’s apparently crazy hard to get into schools and university from different tiers of the city, but if you somehow get into one, it’s a guarantee for future success.
It never occurred to Shouyou to ever yearn for more than he had. Not that he didn’t yearn for things—he yearned to outdo Kageyama in almost everything he can; he yearns for the success of his packmates; and recently he yearns for other things that he feels too embarrassed mentioning. But because he’d seen the worst life had to offer—lived it—he never once yearned for more than what he already has.
But seeing Middle Tokyo in its flesh and bone, Shouyou understands his classmates now—if just a tiny bit.
This is where you settle down and raise families; where you advance in your career but have time for hobbies; and where you walk at night confident you won’t be mugged or assaulted.
There isn’t hide nor hair of any strays. Not here.
After about half an hour, they splinter off from the highway and disappear into another tunnel. A gradual elevation takes them upwards. It’s not ten minutes into the tunnel that they arrive at a second gate, this one with meaner-looking security. The driver is calm. The exchange is much the same as it was the first time.
They’re in the tunnel for a long time. Shouyou wonders if the tunnel ever ends. Lights flashing into the car can only be entertaining to an extent before your eyes glaze over. There isn’t an outside at the end of the tunnel like there was when they passed through Middle Tokyo. Instead, they drive right into a massive carpark with tinted glass walls.
Shouyou leans over Kageyama to squish his face up against the window.
The carpark is the shape of a giant nonagon, packed full of glass garages. It’s hard to see into these garages when the glass is stained a dark colour and you’re in a moving vehicle, but he can tell they’re fancy. They go up a couple of levels. The higher they go, the fancier the cars are.
The driver—er, Semi?—presses a button on the dashboard and a glass panel disappears into the floor. Their car pulls into it, the other one following suit. They’re herded out of the cars and it’s much cooler than he expects. Shouyou looks over his shoulder and watches in awe as the glass panel slowly rises out of the floor and boxes the cars inside. He’s seen garages before—some of the lucky few with houses in Lower Tokyo have them—but they’re nothing like that.
They split up again and get into two elevators. It’s Shouyou’s first time in one.
The floors are red velvet, and the support bars are gold. There are windows on every side except where the doors are. The one with brown hair uses a key card on a pad, and then presses one of the numbered buttons.
Next to the buttons is a guide to each floor that says: ‘Welcome to Kokoro Tower’. His eyes nearly bug out of his skull. There are over two-hundred levels, each one offering a different service. On the guide they’re colour-coded to show which category the level falls under: purple for entertainment/recreation; yellow for food/beverage; green for retail; blue for education; and so on.
The elevator shoots up and Shouyou would’ve dropped to his knees if Sawamura hadn’t caught him in time. Kageyama and Tanaka cling to the rails, unfamiliar with elevators themselves.
The scenery blurs outside the windows. It isn’t until the elevator stops that he sees that they’re opposite a tower.
Ding. “Level 135. Retail District.”
They get off and a bunch of people flood to take their place. They walk into an airconditioned open space that looks like the inside of a mall (but it isn’t anything like Akiba DPS). The foreign environment is overwhelming. He doesn’t know where to focus his attention. He’s never seen so many nice-looking shops. A massive fountain with an iron statue sprouting from the water acts as the centrepiece to the floor, with benches and tables situated around it. People swarm then split like schools of fish, walking with aggressive purpose. They’re all dressed impeccably, even the kids their age, and in coordinated colours that are too specific to be a coincidence.
The other group arrives at the same time and together Karasuno follow their escorts. They come to a bridge that connects the towers, with windows on either side showcasing just how high up they are. When Shouyou looks up or down, he sees that there are a few bridges connecting to the other tower on different levels, but not every level.
As they approach the end of the bridge, there is a sign that says: Southern Heights.
They get into another elevator with a similar interior to the last one. Only, it’s facing out onto the whole of San Tokyo. Shouyou’s jaw drops. He can see Middle and Lower Tokyo from all the way up here! Middle Tokyo is closer. He can see the cars on the highways and the office buildings. Lower Tokyo is covered in a blanket of smog, almost hidden entirely from view.
Ding. “Floor 156.”
They enter into a hallway with royal blue carpet, cream walls and high ceilings. They occasionally pass doors with gold numbers on them, but they’re so sparse that it takes Shouyou a moment to realise they’re apartments.
Stopping at apartment number 1565, Oohira uses the same key card he’d used for the elevators to unlock the door.
Shouyou’s gut twists in anticipation as they’re ushered inside. As soon as he steps into the apartment’s threshold, he’s flanked on all sides by their pack’s tallest members. Kageyama in front, Azumane and Tsukishima at his sides, and Tadashi as a reassuring presence from behind. He clings to the back of Kageyama’s t-shirt, springing up on his tippy toes to see if he can get a peek of the apartment’s interior.
Tsukishima smirks and adjusts his glasses. “Among tall people, you practically disappear.”
“Shuddup, Tsuki-shithead!”
They come to a stop and Shouyou almost walks straight into Kageyama’s back. An apology dies on the tip of his tongue when he notices how rigid the alpha’s body is.
“Ah, finally! Our murder of crows arrive!” a voice chimes. The oddly high pitch strikes a familiar chord, but Shouyou can’t remember who it belongs to. “Your patience is golden, Grandmaster-san. I’m sure you were stewing in anticipation for a response to the little chat we had on Sunday, hm?”
Grandmaster-san?
Suddenly his pack snaps into a bowing position, giving Shouyou a glimpse of what’s in front of them.
The lounge is a grand open space with gaping, clear windows looking out over San Tokyo’s cityscape. Two leather couches, along with two cream-coloured armchairs, are situated around a glass coffee table. Twin spiral staircases are on opposite sides of the room, and a number of hallways split off into the other areas of the apartment. Calling it an apartment doesn’t do the place justice. It looks more like the wing of a mansion.
On the couch facing them, with his arms thrown across the back and his legs crossed, is a man Shouyou has encountered before. He’s wearing a plum-coloured suit with a black turtleneck underneath it.
Apple-red hair. Maroon eyes.
“It’ll be interesting to see what your pups Present as.”
The man who visited them after they got robbed!
Behind him stand two scary-looking boys with mean faces, which looks kind of weird considering they’re dressed in pastel suits. The one in the lilac suit has a black bowl-cut and a scar slashed across his face, and the other is in a mint-green suit and has light brown hair with a harshly cut fringe. Twin scars run down from the corners of his mouth to his jawline.
Again he’s hit with the feeling that he’s met them somewhere, but the memory is even vaguer.
On the other couch is a handsome man, sitting alone while the rest of his pack stand behind him. This one he knows by name.
“Reunited at last,” Oikawa sighs, sounding disappointed and smug at the same time. “You’ve grown up well, Tobio-chan.”
Kageyama doesn’t lift his head, but he hears the alpha’s breath hitch.
Shouyou quickly bows when he realises he’s the only one standing straight.
When they rise, Tsukishima scoffs. “Unbelievable.”
The pack give him a confused look. Tsukishima’s spiteful glare singles out the boy with the bowl-cut standing behind the couch.
“That kid stabbed me.”
Holy shit.
“The strays with the scars!” Shouyou accidently yells.
The man with the flaming red hair cocks his head to the side, then tilts his chin over his shoulder. “What’s this? Tsu-chan, have you met Karasuno before?”
“N-No, Tendou-san. I’ve never met these people in my life.”
Tadashi side-steps the pack to point a finger at the boy. “Liar! You stabbed Tsukki and he almost died! I was there!”
“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” the alpha groans.
Tanaka scratches his head and laughs. “Hey Bowl-Cut Boy! If you hadn’t stabbed our Bean Sprout here, they never would’ve joined Karasuno and we never would’ve been in this situation. Isn’t that crazy?”
Noya makes a noise. “Oh! So he’s Scarface! I swear this day just keeps gettin’ weirder and weirder. But yeah, thanks for almost killing our boy Tsukishima, Bowl-Cut Boy! If it weren’t for you, our pack never would’ve been complete!”
Bowl-Cut Boy stamps his foot, his handsome face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Stop calling me that!”
“Can you please not thank the boy who stabbed me?” Tsukishima snaps at the betas.
“Very interesting,” Tendou hums. “Won’t you introduce your pack members to me, Grandmaster-san? Meeting new people is always a fun time.”
Semi clears his throat. “Tendou, we shouldn’t keep Don Ushijima waiting.”
“No need to worry, Semisemi! This’ll only take a second. Ne, Grandmaster-san?”
One after the other, Sawamura acquaints the pack with Tendou, each member as reluctant as the next. Tanaka juts out his jaw and Noya puffs his chest, trying to live up to the reputations of cold-blooded Lower Tokyo rogues. Azumane keeps a good poker face, but the bead of sweat falling down his face gives away his internal panic. Tadashi, Tsukishima and Kageyama are wary but polite, sticking close to Shouyou.
“And then there’s Hinata Shouyou, our other omega.”
Tendou’s keen red eyes sweep over Shouyou, and a prickly flush irritates the back of his neck. “Ah, the troublemaker. His Presenting must’ve caused quite the stir, hm?”
“It came as a shock, yes.”
“May I see him?”
Shouyou’s stomach drops.
He can’t see Sawamura’s face, but the edge in his voice is anything but eager when he answers, “Yes.”
At first, none of the packmates strategically placed around Shouyou move.
“No,” Kageyama growls.
“Kageyama! Don’t be rude,” Sawamura scolds.
An unfamiliar voice snickers from somewhere in Oikawa’s pack. “That’s the King for you.”
“Shouyou?” a sweet voice calls, and he peeks through a gap between Kageyama and Azumane to see Sugawara beckoning him.
Gnawing at his bottom lip, he squeezes his way through the gap and grabs Sugawara’s hand, allowing the omega to guide him to the front. Shouyou’s still mad at Sugawara (that’s what he tells himself anyway), but he also knows that his bad behaviour will reflect on their leader if he doesn’t do what he’s told. Sugawara places his hands on Shouyou’s shoulders, gripping him reassuringly.
“Is he lactose-intolerant or something?” Oikawa drawls. “Chibi-chan hasn’t grown at all since I last saw him.”
Shouyou bites his tongue.
“Weird.” Tendou’s eyes sweep across him calculatingly. “I don’t remember you having a member under twelve, Grandmaster-san. Was there a misprint in the files or something?”
He hears Tsukishima and Tadashi snicker, and his ears turn red.
“I just turned sixteen!” Shouyou yells, but immediately quietens when Sugawara’s grip turns painful.
“You look like a middle-schooler,” one of the omegas standing behind Tendou—Tsu-chan—sneers.
“At least I don’t have an ugly bowl-cut!” Shouyou throws back snarkily.
Bowl-Cut Boy splutters and blushes. The omega standing next to him snorts.
Tendou claps his hands. “Oh-kay, now that we’re nice and comfortable, I should let Waka-chan take over. If I keep him waiting any longer my head’s gonna go flying off Southern Heights and you know, I’m a young man with dreams and ambitions. Gotta stay alive at least a little longer.”
In the centre of the coffee table is a speaker. Tendou leans forward and presses a button. A red light switches on.
“Had your fun, Satori?” a deep, masculine voice rings through the speaker, and the hairs on the back of Shouyou’s neck stand on end. So this is the voice of South Side’s Don. It’s as scary as he imagined it being.
“Very much so. Thanks for asking!” Tendou leans back and laces his fingers behind his head.
“Sawamura.” The man in question steps forward and bows. It seems a little silly, bowing to a speaker. “News that you and Oikawa were conspiring in secret came as a great disappointment to me. I’ve come to expect such deceit from Oikawa, but as one of this city’s most honourable pack leaders, I expected more from you.”
One of this city’s most honourable pack leaders? The other rogue packs treat Sawamura like trash! Shouyou bites the inside of his cheek.
“It was never my intent to disrespect you, Don Ushijima. What I did, I did only for the betterment of my pack.”
“And joining with Seijoh was your way of going about it?”
Sawamura grimaces.
“I understand your desire to get out of Lower Tokyo. You and your pack have persevered despite the challenging circumstances. It seems adversity has made Karasuno resourceful and enduring.”
“We are.” Sawamura squares his shoulders with pride. “They’re my best students. I couldn’t have asked for better kids.”
“But it hasn’t been all smooth sailing, has it? Most of your pack are failing out of school, you’ve had several instances of break-ins at your home, and at some point you even got police involved after one of you found a dead body.”
Their leader swallows. “Yes.”
“Why get police involved at all? If it disturbed you, we could’ve gotten rid of the body.”
“An egregious crime took place. Sweeping it under the rug wasn’t the moral thing to do.”
“And have South Side police solved the murder?”
“… No.”
“I thought not.”
Sawamura bows again. It’s hard to see their leader so apologetic. “I’m sorry for getting police involved.”
“You know how it goes, Sawamura. The less they’re involved the better.”
“Right.”
“And now you’ve got yourself a white pin. Congratulations.”
“Thanks,” Sawamura replies stiffly.
“Since Sunday, I’ve been thinking over how best to deal with this issue. A punishment seems fitting. Doing nothing would set a bad example.”
“As long as I’m punished, and not my pack, I’ll accept that.”
Oikawa huffs. “Speak for yourself. A punishment is completely unnecessary. No one outside this room even knows that Daichi and I were in talks for a pack union. Why announce it to the other packs and then make an example of us, when it’s easier to drop it? Lesson learned: no secret meetings without telling The Don—fine. We’ll be on our way.”
“Ever the optimist, I see.” Oikawa scowls. “I’ve already come to a conclusion for each of you. For Sawamura, I am going to give you two options. The first: you join with our pack and we become one. You must sever your relationship with Sugawara, and renounce your title as leader. You must accept that my decision on pack matters is final, and your opinion, unless asked for, is forfeit.”
A stunned silence settles over the room. Even the omegas from Shiratorizawa look floored by the offer.
“And the second option?” Sawamura asks coolly.
“If you refuse the first option, I’ll have you, your alphas and your betas slaughtered, and your omegas will join my pack.”
“Ah, so it’s an illusion of choice then,” Sugawara mutters bitterly under his breath. Only Shouyou catches it.
“The first,” Sawamura answers, and then bows. “Thank you for giving us a merciful punishment.” Except Sawamura doesn’t sound thankful at all. He sounds angry.
“And what about me?” Oikawa asks impatiently. “Gonna start making me walk your dogs? Oh—or I could wipe your ass after you’ve taken a shit.”
The Shiratorizawa omegas are outraged.
“How dare you speak to your Don like that!” Bowl-Cut Boy shrieks.
“Goshiki,” Semi growls. The omega immediately falls back in line.
Ushijima aloofly answers Oikawa’s question: “Seijoh will be taking Karasuno’s place in Lower Tokyo. I already have a place of accommodation set up for you.”
“What!” Oikawa leaps to his feet. The members of Seijoh voice similar words of displeasure. “I won’t stand for this! I’m not going back to that shithole!”
“My decision is final.”
“You can take your decision and shove it!” Oikawa picks up the speaker and hurls it like a frisbee across the room. It hits a wall and shatters to pieces.
The leader of Seijoh then turns to leave, but is swiftly blocked by members of Shiratorizawa, who have their guns drawn. Tendou hasn’t moved an inch from his place on the couch. He scratches his head, unsurprised by Oikawa’s outburst.
“Such a drama queen. Kenji-kun!”
The brunette omega straightens. “On it.”
The boy leaves and comes back with another speaker, the exact same model as the one Oikawa just destroyed. He places it in the centre of the table and turns it on.
“That was very childish of you, Oikawa,” Ushijima chides Oikawa like a father might his son. “Now sit down, we’re not done here.”
“Oh, we’re done here.” Contrary to his words, Oikawa sits back down and Seijoh backs off. Shiratorizawa put their weapons away.
“There’s no point continuing before I check that the assets are to standard.”
Sawamura frowns. “‘Assets’?”
“Bring them in will you, Reon?” Tendou purrs at his packmate.
The man disappears down a hallway and comes back with two people: a man and a woman, both betas. The beta man has a white coat over his slacks and a pair of glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose; and the beta woman is wearing a stylish power suit that’s tailored perfectly to her body and has a briefcase in her hand.
“The quality of your omegas needs to be verified, Sawamura. Else I only have to go off your word, don’t I?”
Sugawara pulls Shouyou closer to him.
“It’ll just be a quick assessment.” The doctor adjusts his glasses. “I’ll make sure things run as smoothly and as painlessly as possible.”
“And while Kou-chan and Shou-chan are being verified, we’ll discuss your new circumstances and how your roles fit into that,” Tendou tells Oikawa and Sawamura. The intimate pet names Tendou gives them makes Shouyou’s skin crawl.
Sawamura gives Sugawara a curt nod, and the omega leans down to murmur in Shouyou’s ear: “Come on, Shouyou. I’ll be with you the whole time.”
They’re taken to a bedroom, but the bed has been pushed up against the wall to make room for a makeshift exam table. There’s a tray next to it with instruments Shouyou has never seen before, and there’s a chair off to the side. Oohira guards the door outside, the room’s only entrance and exit. There’s no escape.
The doctor smiles kindly at them.
“I’m Dr Esaki. Don Ushijima asked me to give the both of you an unofficial assessment. We’ll start with the oldest, shall we?” He brings out a tablet. “Sugawara Koushi, yes? This is the correct kanji? Yes, good—Hinata, you can go sit over there. I’ll assess you next.”
“What are we being assessed on?” Sugawara remains polite, despite his guarded expression.
“Ah, well—I guess you aren’t familiar with the value system in Upper Tokyo, no? Being from Lower Tokyo and all.” Dr Esaki ushers Sugawara over to the exam table. “My job is basically to verify your status and grade you on a Value Scale—unofficially, of course.”
“‘Value Scale’…?”
“Er well, a Value Scale is a point system used in Upper Tokyo to grade the value of omegas out of a hundred—but rest assured, no omega is ever given a score of a perfect hundred. The Value Scale varies decade to decade, dictated largely by social trends. The most important will be which pin defines your overall value, but I’ll also give a rough grade to each of you as well.”
Shouyou kicks out his legs, not really understanding much of it. Sugawara wrinkles his nose in disgust.
The first thing Dr Esaki asks Sugawara to do is take his shorts off. Shouyou hides his face in his knees and tries not to think too much about it. His mind fills in the gaps. Whatever’s happening only lasts a few minutes, and then Sugawara puts his pants back on and the doctor jots something down on his tablet.
“As you said—not a virgin. That checks out. And—ah, unmarked. That makes you a yellow pin. It’s not the most coveted status, but you’ll still be desirable to alphas nonetheless.”
“Every omega’s dream,” Sugawara says dryly.
Dr Esaki checks Sugawara head to toe—literally. He makes him take his shoes off so he can see his toes, he makes him take his shirt off to see if he has any blemishes, he checks his teeth, his ears, his eyes and his hair, finding something new every other second and jotting it down on his tablet.
“What are you writing down?” Sugawara leans forward on the exam table.
“I have an app on my tablet that spits out a grade if you input the features of an omega into its system. It’s just a rough estimate though. For a real certified grade, you’ll likely be sent to a qualified examiner for that later on.”
The word ‘examiner’ reminds Shouyou of the tests he had to take at school. God, even when he isn’t enrolled, exams still haunt him.
When Dr Esaki is done with Sugawara (too soon for his liking), Shouyou is up next. He goes through the same motions. He closes his eyes for most of it. As promised, Sugawara is beside him the whole time, holding his hand and distracting him.
He’s still mad at Sugawara, but he’s glad he’s here.
At the end of the assessment, Dr Esaki brings out a small, velvet box. When he opens it, Shouyou sees a bunch of coloured pins lined up neatly into fitted pockets. There’s a lot of blacks, reds and yellows, but only a few white ones.
Dr Esaki plucks out three yellow pins and hands them to Sugawara. “Usually, I’d advise only wearing them out in public, but The Don is a very traditional man, so I’d recommend wearing them as much as possible.”
Sugawara nods and thanks him. Dr Esaki hands Shouyou three white pins and ruffles his hair. The doctor smiles in a way that Shouyou thinks is meant to be reassuring. “Try not to lose them!”
*
When Sugawara and Hinata return to the lounge area, Hinata runs up to Tobio with this look on his face that sets him on edge. The omega clings to Tobio, refusing to let go even under the scrutiny of the other packs. Tobio stiffens, confused, but quickly manoeuvres Hinata so that he’s well-hidden behind his larger body. Sugawara crosses the room to stand beside Sawamura, who is seated in one of the armchairs, much paler than when he left.
The beta doctor goes to stand near Tendou, and the conversation is interrupted. Tendou looks up at him.
“What’s the verdict, hm? Has Grandmaster-san been honest with us?”
The doctor nods. “What they say holds true: Sugawara-san is a yellow pin, Hinata-san is a white pin.”
“And their value grade?”
The doctor hands Tendou a tablet and the man scrolls through something the rest of the room aren’t privy to. “Hmm, an 85 for Kou-chan, but only a 70 for Shou-chan? That won’t do.”
“There’s a list of things that can be done to improve their scores, but some of the options are a bit extreme in my opinion.” The doctor leans over and presses something on the tablet. Tendou’s crazy eyes scan the screen briskly. “They lost a lot of points for maintenance and Sugawara-san might need laser-eye surgery. They have small tattoos that’ll have to be removed, but they scored high for bonus features. Sugawara-san’s beauty mark is valued at a whopping 15 points!”
“Maintenance is an easy fix job—so is the eye surgery. The dental grade is abysmal though,” Tendou notes absently.
“Sugawara-san will need fillers for his back teeth, and Hinata-san’s …” The doctor hesitates.
“We’ll get his molars extracted. There’s also a cosmetic surgery recommendation …?”
“Ah—recommended by the app, not me. I’m not sure orthognathic surgery is necessary—”
“It says here Shou-chan’s value grade could hit high 90s if he gets his jawline shaved down.”
“Yes but—only because heart-shaped faces are in right now.”
“Tsu-chan.”
The omega with the bowl-cut straightens. “Y-Yes!”
“Book a consultation with the orthodontist for Shou-chan—oh, and the dentist as well.”
Sawamura clears his throat. “The union of our packs hasn’t even been finalised and you’re already booking my omega in for cosmetic surgery?”
“Also, Hinata doesn’t need plastic surgery! His face is perfectly fine!” Tobio snarls, livid.
“Yeah, if anything he needs surgery to fix his height,” Tsukishima butts in. Tobio ignores that.
Tendou points a bandaged finger in his direction and says, “You’re going to be a problem for us. I can feel it.”
“Satori, I’m leaving you in charge of improving the assets’ grades. Goshiki, Shirabu—” the omegas lean towards the speaker, their eyes glittering eagerly “—you’ll be tasked with teaching the assets how things are run in Upper Tokyo. Take good care of them.”
The omegas both deflate. Goshiki scowls.
“Semi, you’ll be the assets’ handler, as you’ve been for Goshiki and Shirabu.”
The man in question nods. Hinata clings to Tobio tighter.
“Oohira, you’ll manage the alphas, Yamagata will manage the betas.”
As Don Ushijima continues to give out orders to his pack, the rest of them—Seijoh included—have no other choice but to stand by and watch as the lives they’ve known get stripped away piece by piece. It’s a surreal feeling. Like watching a lion attack a zookeeper while you’re in the audience unable to do anything.
After another ten minutes of tense conversation, Seijoh are dismissed. None of them look Tobio in the eye as they brush passed him. He’s so pissed that he follows after them, catching them out in the hallway.
“Why did you do it?” he yells.
Seijoh stop and turn. He meets Oikawa’s calculating gaze.
Kindaichi scowls. “Don’t talk to our leader like that! What the hell do you want anyway? Are you here to gloat about getting into Upper Tokyo?”
Tobio is taken aback. “You think I want this? You think my pack got the better deal out of all this?”
“Of course you did!” His former packmate steps towards him. His hair still points to the ceiling like an arrow, and though the definition in his jaw has sharpened, his wits have not. “You’ll get to go to the best school in the country, eat the best food in the world, and your pack stay together. We have to go live back with the garbage like fucking novice rogues.”
Tobio snatches the front of Kindaichi’s shirt in a white-knuckled grip. “I’d give anything to go back to my life in Lower Tokyo. Don’t you get it? You think just because we’ll be under the same roof, we’ll get to be a pack just as always? You’re just as dumb as you were five years ago.”
Kunimi steps towards them. “Attitude as shitty as always, I see.”
“Fuck off, Akira,” he bites back.
“Why did I do what, Tobio-chan?” Oikawa asks softly.
Kindaichi shoves him away and takes a step back. Tobio turns to Seijoh’s leader. No matter how much time has passed the man still makes his blood boil.
“Why did you consider joining our packs? What good would it have done you?”
This is all Oikawa’s fault, after all. If he hadn’t entertained Sawamura then they wouldn’t be in this situation in the first place.
Sawamura briefed them on the situation before they were picked up in Lower Tokyo. There’s a fistful of packs Tobio could list off the top of his head that’d be leagues better than Seijoh, but he can at least understand his leader’s viewpoint. Oikawa is a different story.
“If I’d succeeded?” Oikawa looks at the ceiling and dramatically sighs. “It would’ve done me a world of good, with those omegas in my possession. They would’ve made invaluable bargaining chips—I could’ve even bargained my way to Upper Tokyo if I’d played my cards right, and all without The Don’s help.”
“And you would’ve done that? Even if it meant I had to re-join Seijoh?”
Oikawa smirks. “You flatter yourself, Tobio-chan. You’re insufferable, but I would’ve done anything to get closer to Ushijima, even endure you.”
“Well it did you a lot of good in the end, didn’t it?” His hands are shaking. Sweat is dripping down the side of his face. “After today, I’ll be a higher rank than you’ll ever be.”
“Why you—” Kunimi has to stop Kindaichi from throwing punches.
A yellow-haired member with two brown stripes running through it—someone that must’ve joined after Tobio had left—clenches his fists and growls. Iwaizumi puts a hand on his shoulder to try and calm him down, but he violently jerks away from it.
Oikawa barely reacts. He walks straight up to Tobio, places a hand on his shoulder and whispers in his ear, “Remembers this well, Tobio-chan: even when the cards are stacked against me, or luck isn’t in my favour, at the end of the day I’ll always have the last laugh.”
Chapter 12: We Fly Together
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
They only stay for an hour longer than Seijoh, but it goes by painfully slow.
A woman named Waseda Hiroko takes down their measurements so she can prepare newly tailored wardrobes for each of them, and then they’re escorted back to the SUVs in the basement carpark.
Karasuno are quiet the entire way back to the apartment.
Koushi watches the midnight city flash by the windows as they take the Rainbow Freeway back to Lower Tokyo. This evening’s conversation plays out in his head over and over, like he’s constantly pressing rewind on a cassette tape.
Rewind … Stop. Play … Rewind … Stop. Play.
When Koushi had learnt of Daichi’s Sunday night, and about how negotiations to join Karasuno with Seijoh were interrupted by Shiratorizawa’s Tendou Satori, he knew nothing good would come from it. Every day this week, the two of them held their breaths, waiting for the day when Shiratorizawa delivered a punishment. There were several things they could’ve done in that time.
For starters: they could’ve fled to West Side—East Side, even, if Ryu’s sister would have them.
A part of them though (a naïve part of them) hoped that all would be forgiven. Don Ushijima would hand them a warning, and maybe even offer them a place in Middle Tokyo as a status boost suitable to a pack with a white pin.
They’d gotten too content with this life, this charade of domestic bliss; pretending they were a normal, loving couple who took in kids off the street because they have so much more to give. That’s the only explanation Koushi can come up with. It was a mistake, and now Shouyou will be the one to suffer the most for it.
The ginger sits in the back, wedged between his snoozing packmates. Koushi smiles at Shouyou, but the younger omega’s eyes are glazed over, as if he’s looking straight through him.
It’s almost 1.30am when they arrive home. The neon sign of the ramen shop under Daichi’s dojo shines a spotlight on the cars as they pull up to the curb. A couple walking nearby glance at the cars like they’re expecting people to pop out and jump them.
Semi turns to face them. “Be ready at 1pm Sunday. Tie up any loose ends before then.”
“Will we need to bring anything with us?” Daichi asks.
“No.”
They get out of the car and the black SUVs bleed into the night. They drag themselves back to their little crappy apartment that occupies a space in Koushi’s heart. The kids go straight to bed. Daichi and Koushi sit at the low table with a bottle of sake, the only bottle of alcohol Koushi allows to have hidden in the back of the cabinet under the sink.
Before the pack, Daichi was a drinker.
There was never an explanation as to how or why, he just was. Koushi overlooked those few bad moments where Daichi didn’t make much sense, and couldn’t see straight, because sober Daichi was (and still is) easy to love. But it was getting to the point where Koushi would find copious amounts of liquor throughout the apartment, left in places he would never think to look—behind the toilet, in the gap between the fridge and oven, in the oven. Koushi was beginning to feel as if he was dating two different people.
About a year into their relationship, when it was just them and Asahi, they’d sat the man down and talked it out, and because Daichi is always true to his word, he’d been on the wagon ever since.
The sake was meant for special occasions. Koushi doesn’t know whether this constitutes as a ‘special occasion’, but Daichi pours him a shot and he downs it without hesitation.
“You know, my biggest fear used to be that one of our own would be shot in the streets, or caught up in a robbery or something like that. You hear about that stuff all the time in Lower Tokyo, so I just—I don’t know, I thought the likeliest possibility was the one I should fear most.” Koushi snorts softly. “I entertained that we might feud with other packs. I even thought one day a territory war would break out and we’d be forced to fight our friends in the West.
“But never, did I ever think we would join packs with Shiratorizawa. It turns out all that time I spent stressing over stupid would-bes distracted me from what I should’ve feared the most.” Daichi pours him another shot, and Koushi knocks it back.
“I don’t think any of us could’ve predicted things would go the way they did today,” Daichi reasons, already onto his third shot. “How did the assessment go?”
Koushi’s eyes roll to the ceiling. “Daichi—it was humiliating. The guy stuck a finger in me and I wouldn’t even consider that the worst part. No, you wanna know the worst part? How he gave us a grade, a number based on our physical attractiveness! Like—like an alpha fraternity rating omegas out of ten. Can you believe it? How fucked up is that?”
Daichi doesn’t look terribly surprised, but he does express a suitable amount of disgust. “Upper Tokyo’s class system is part of the reason why I rejected Don Ushijima all those years ago. Lower Tokyo isn’t paradise—not by a long shot—but at least there’s no social hierarchies keeping everyone in line.”
“God.” Tears prick the corners of Koushi’s eyes and he blinks them away. “How are we going to protect them now? They’ll turn our alphas into killers, and our betas into spies. And—and Shouyou. Oh Shouyou …” He slams back another one, lets it sear the back of his throat. “This is a disaster. We’ve doomed them all.”
“At least we aren’t separated.”
“They’ll find a way.” Koushi shakes his head. “We’re strongest together. Ushijima knows this. We may live together in the same apartment but they’ll keep us apart. You told me once that The Don is religious about hierarchy. He’ll probably sort us by status and make sure we’re never alone with each other.”
Daichi rubs his jaw, thinking. “We’ll have to convey information through messages—I could hand a note to Kageyama, who could give the note to Shouyou at school, who can then hand it to you.”
“Relying on Kageyama and Shouyou is a risk.”
“It’s something, at least.”
The gravity of the situation darkens his veins, much like the effects of the alcohol. He reaches across the table, lacing his fingers with Daichi’s. Daichi rubs his thumb over the knuckle of Koushi’s thumb three times as a gesture of habit.
“If Ushijima thinks I’m breaking up with you, then he’s a fool,” Koushi murmurs, gazing at his boyfriend’s half-lidded eyes.
“Koushi …” Daichi sighs hopelessly. “He’s a dangerous man.”
“We’re dangerous men.” Koushi crawls into Daichi’s lap and swings his arms around his neck. Their lips brush together as he murmurs: “Don’t let this end. If you love me, don’t let it end.”
Daichi squeezes his waist. “If letting this end means protecting you, then I have no choice.”
Koushi kisses Daichi hard. The alpha kisses back with the same intensity, and Koushi has never felt more conflicted, because Daichi’s lips against his own bring him so much love and happiness …
… but at the same time, it tastes less like a promise, and more like a farewell.
*
“What do you mean you’re leaving?” Kanoka is so shocked she forgets to tap the ash collecting at the tip of her cigarette.
Ryuunosuke keeps his back planted firmly against the cool brick, exhaling a puff of smoke as he watches a bunch of school girls try to cut the chain link fence with a Stanley knife they probably stole from the art room.
“It’s exactly what I just said: we’re leaving. My pack got promoted or whatever and we’re moving to another tier.” Ryu knows he should pretend to be thrilled, but frankly, he’s not in the mood.
It’s his last day at Kawagashi. So fuck it. He’ll never see these people ever again.
“Holy shit, like? To Middle Tokyo?”
“Sure,” he lies.
“Man, you’re so lucky.” Kanoka sighs dreamily. “What I wouldn’t give to go up a tier. I love their clothes in all the dramas—I bet the people in Middle Tokyo dress like that every day.”
“I dunno, probably.”
“You don’t look too happy about it.” Kanoka frowns.
With a boost of energy, he forces out a laugh and rubs the back of his head. “Don’t I? Sorry, I’ve just got a lot on my mind at the moment.”
“Oh.” She buys it easily. “Well you’ll keep in contact with me, yeah? You should take lots of pictures and send them to me. And then I can brag to my friends that I know someone who lives in Middle Tokyo.”
Ryu blushes. “But how?”
“I’ll just give you my number, silly.” She whips out her phone, looking at him expectantly.
“O-Oh right. Duh.” They exchange numbers, and he catches Kanoka putting a monkey emoji beside his name in her contact list. His hands are shaking and he doesn’t know why.
“This was fun though, right? While it lasted?”
Ryu stares at Kanoka’s pretty face, and imagines a life where he doesn’t have to move to Upper Tokyo and live with all the rich snobs; where he doesn’t have to go to an elite school where everyone’s the son or daughter of a celebrity or politician; where he doesn’t share a living space with the cruellest, most dangerous pack in the whole city. A life where he just hangs with Kanoka behind the gymnasium at Kawagashi, smoking cigarettes and complaining about their stupid friends.
And it’s a nice thought.
Ryu smiles. “Yeah, it was fun, wasn’t it?”
*
Asahi follows Koushi around the grocery store. He feels a little stupid. He’s eighteen. He’s a man. So why is he following Koushi around like a lost puppy?
Er—well, he doesn’t like going to big stores. There’re too many people. Especially in big stores in Lower Tokyo where people could either be the nicest you’ll ever meet, or they could be hiding a sharp object under their coat ready to stab you. It’s the luck of the draw, really.
“Asahi, can you go to the meat section and get some thinly sliced beef? Oh—and I think we might be out of eggs too.”
“Uh sure, but why are we buying so much food? We’re leaving Sunday.”
Asahi side-eyes a child that looks at him funny. Why does he have his hands in his pockets? Is he hiding a knife? The kid pulls out change and uses it to buy bubble-gum. Alright, now he’s just being ridiculous.
“You’ll find out,” Koushi brushes off with a mysterious smile. “You don’t come with me to the store often, so you probably don’t realise how much food we go through—you’re all growing boys after all.”
“True.” Asahi still eyes the omega suspiciously.
When he comes back with what Koushi asked for, the omega is chatting with a woman that has a packet of diapers under her arm.
“The deli next to Ichijyu is nice. They make great sandwiches,” Koushi tells her. “But if you’re looking for the best gyoza, I’d recommend Little Island. It’s a few blocks away.”
“Thank you so much!” The woman bows, and Asahi realises she’s an alpha.
As she walks away, Koushi says: “Apparently she’s new to town. Her omega just had twins and she wanted to know where the best take-out joints are.”
Asahi gapes. “And you didn’t recommend Ponty-Ponty Pizza?”
Koushi snorts. “What am I, an amateur? That was the first place I recommended to her. Come on, Asahi. Give me some credit.”
“Oh right, sorry.” Asahi laughs, scratching the back of his head. “I wonder what the restaurants will be like in Upper Tokyo?”
“Who knows?” The omega sighs. “I wouldn’t be surprised if Shiratorizawa has their own chef.”
He nudges Koushi. “It must be a relief for you then, right? No more meals to stress over after a long day at work.”
“I never saw cooking for the pack as a chore,” Koushi confesses sadly. “I’m actually going to miss it.”
Asahi rubs the omega’s back. “I’m gonna miss your cooking too.”
*
On the very last page of the chapbook, the poem reads:
A palette of loves bitter on platters,
See it the sunset as it vanishes.
Words spark light in dark, moments come and gone,
Hear it the sounds of laughter.
Caught.
In dawn.
Closing the book, Kei fits it back on the shelf where he found it. In the time since he’s been here, he’s only read about half the little library of books the pack has. He did wonder why they even bothered. No one in the pack is all that interested in reading aside from him, and even then, he only ever picks one up when there’s nothing else to do.
Kei had asked this once after karate practice, and Daichi was sheepish. “They belonged to my old master. He died a few years back. Half the stuff in our apartment was inherited by him.”
Funny how we turn over entertainment so easily. A movie is watched once, then never seen again. A TV show is someone’s entire life for a few weeks, and then forgotten. Books are the same: you read them, you finish them, and you put them away. But for some reason, people insist on keeping them shelved and displayed, collecting dust.
What is it about books?
A message coming from his phone snaps Kei out of his thoughts.
He fetches it from the coffee table and frowns. It’s a message from Akari—he’d given her his phone number (well, the number of the phone he shares with Yamaguchi and Kageyama). It felt weird not to. You can’t just reconcile a broken relationship over a single cup of tea, and it also didn’t seem right to cut ties with her entirely. So he’d agreed to keep in touch, more for her sake than for his own.
‘How was your week? :)’
Hm. Should he be honest or lie?
Lying is tempting, because the truth will only encourage more questions. And how would he even describe in just a few words what has happened this week? It can’t be done.
‘It was good.’
He’s about to put the phone away when it vibrates again.
‘I’m happy to hear that! Have a nice weekend xx’
Sometimes, it’s not easy keeping in contact with Akari. She still wants him to go and live with her in Middle Tokyo; he can tell by the way she talks about her neighbourhood and how nice and perfect everything is over there, and how she gushes over her husband who is so kind, and sweet, and caring, and it can get awkward at times. There’s also the baggage they carry around that they might never be able to shake off, but the past is mostly left to the past, and Kei prefers it that way.
But other times, he is glad that he gave her his number, and thinks that maybe there is a future for their relationship after all—even if it never goes back to how it was.
‘You too.’
*
Sweat trickles down Yuu’s face into the collar of his shirt. He’s panting heavily, eyes following the ball as Ryu slams it from the concrete into the wall. It ricochets higher than excepted, higher than he can reach. He’s about to back up when Asahi leaps into the air and smacks it down, leaving him in awe.
Dark clouds loom threateningly in the sky, and the humidity is oppressive. But even with the shitty weather, they decide to play out in the alley for as long as they can.
It would’ve been perfect if Shouyou were there with them, but he’s still not allowed outside.
The ball bounces off the wall. Yuu moves at lightning speed, tongue out as he dives for the ball. It springs off his fist and absorbs all of the momentum Asahi had poured into his last attack. Its bounce turns oval, hitting the ground and then grazing the wall, leaving Ryu little time to respond before it double bounces and rolls away.
Throwing his head back, Yuu pumps his fists in the air and lets out a cry of victory.
Asahi laughs and wraps his arms around his waist, pecking him on top of his head.
“Well played, Nishinoya!” Yamaguchi calls from where he and Tsukishima loiter by the entrance to the alley.
“Thanks!” he yells back, grin so wide his cheeks hurt.
Ryu juts out his jaw and quirks his lip in a way that makes him look like a thug—well, aside from his shaved head and tank top. “Oh so we gonna play dirty like that, ey? Nishiya?!”
“Are you challenging the Guardian Deity of handball, Ryu? ‘Cuz we both know how this’ll end—with your ass in the dirt!” Yuu grins wickedly.
“Oh, you’ve woken the dragon now! There’s no room for mercy—let’s go!”
Just as Ryu whips the ball in a way that makes it spin, a loud crack of thunder rolls across the city. They all stop to look up at the sky and the ball hits Ryu’s face.
“Maybe it’ll just be thunder and some lightning?” Asahi guesses.
And then the first drops fall.
“Mild showers?” Asahi guesses again, his pitch a little higher.
Then the sky opens up and rain pelts down on them as if it’s trying to prove a point. They go running back into the apartment and Ryu slams the door behind them.
“Geez, Azumane,” the bald beta pants. “What did you do to piss off the gods?”
The alpha scratches his stubble. “Nothing recently I don’t think.”
“‘Recently’?” Yuu echoes, choking back a laugh.
Light filters in from the shoji doors, and Yuu sees Sugawara and Shouyou having a quiet conversation about something. Shouyou has his hands in Sugawara’s, fighting back the sadness and frustration on his face.
“Hey—uh, let’s go upstairs?” Yuu suggests to the group.
Regardless of whether they see the omegas, the others follow him up to the lounge area, where Kageyama and Daichi are trying to fix the TV.
“What’s the point?” Tsukishima asks. “We’re moving.”
Daichi exhales sharply. “I just wanted to see if I could fix it—if it could be fixed. I’ve had it since Koushi and I moved in here together and it’s been a great source of entertainment and—uh, yeah. Belonged to my old master. He was a good man.”
“It’s broken. You’re wasting your time,” Yamaguchi insists not unkindly.
“It’s not broken!” Daichi snaps. The pack flinches, and the beta recoils. Their leader clears his throat. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to yell. But it’s not broken—not if I can do something about it. And I can—I can do something about it. All I’ve got to do is … is try.”
They glance at each other, and Yuu steps towards them, clenching his fists at his sides.
“Do you need help?”
*
They sit around the table for their last meal together in the apartment. Sugawara and Sawamura play it off like it’s any other night, but they cook them a feast of special dishes that they’d be lucky to get once a month. Their mains are steaming bowls of gyudon with sides of gyoza, powdered potatoes, sashimi, tofu and pickled vegetables. Even more: they get to drink soft drink!
They place their hands together, bow their heads and give thanks for the food, and then they wait for Sawamura to start eating.
“Before we start—and yes, I know you’re all hungry. Just hold on.” Tanaka and Noya are basically drooling onto their plates. Sawamura shakes his head with a fond smile. “This is our last night in this apartment, and I just wanted to tell you—before we officially become members of Shiratorizawa—that I’m so proud, and so blessed to have been the leader of this pack. And I—” Sawamura’s breath hitches. Tadashi swallows. The rest of the pack are barely holding it together. “I wanted to say thank you. Thank you for everything.”
They all stare down at their food, fat tears running down their faces.
“I’m proud too!” Sugawara sobs, furiously wiping away his tears. “So proud.”
“Leader! Suga!” Noya and Tanaka cry.
Azumane looks up to the ceiling, his tears rolling down his neck. “Meeting you two … Starting Karasuno … I will cherish our time in this place. Even when things get tough, we always had each other to fall back on.”
“You always will.” Sugawara places a hand on Azumane’s shoulder. “Even apart we’ll always be one. Always Karasuno. When we fly, we fly together!”
“Always Karasuno!” the pack cry, connecting their fists in the centre of the table.
“Now eat up!” Sawamura orders, grinning through his tears.
“Osu!”
They eat until the last grain of rice is gone. There isn’t a single side dish left untouched, not a piece of pickled radish left unsavoured. By the end, they’re reduced to sluggish elation, leaning back with their hands on their stomachs and satisfaction in their half-lidded stares.
Sugawara leans against Sawamura, nuzzling him, and Noya has his arms around Tanaka and Azumane as they slur the lyrics to Kawagashi’s school anthem. Across from him, Shouyou and Kageyama mutter insults to each other, but without the usual vigour or passion behind them. And Tadashi grins at Tsukki, who for once doesn’t look mildly annoyed at something. The blonde alpha stares at him, understanding that this moment needs to be enjoyed, cherished, remembered.
A single snapshot of perfection, enshrined in their minds. They’ll carry it with them for the rest of their lives.
It couldn’t have been a better last meal together.
Notes:
The story is largely going to centre around Shouyou from now on, so I figured I'd give little snippets of the others' perspectives before they leave Lower Tokyo for good.
Fs in the comment section for happy times :'(
Chapter 13: The Bird Cage
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Daichi is the last one out of the apartment.
The deadbolt clicks into place and he pockets his keys, his eyes sweeping the alley for what will be the last time. The rest of his pack linger at the entrance, pensive. Koushi shoots him a knowing smile, the yellow pin in his hair catching in the sunlight.
The big hand ticks over to 1pm, and two black SUVs pull up to the curb. They climb in, splitting into the same groups as Thursday. Daichi looks up at the sign above the ramen shop—his sign: Come Train with Grandmaster Sawamura Daichi! Dirty rain has seeped behind the plastic and stained some of the letters, and the nails fixing it to the building have rusted over.
There was a time when it was pristine and new. At seventeen, he’d stood on the sidewalk with his hands on his hips, a broad smile on his face. Tetsurou had slapped him on the shoulder.
“Old Man Ukai would be proud’o you.”
As a kid with few options in life, Daichi needed to do something to keep his household afloat. They couldn’t live off Koushi’s salary alone. At the time Koushi’d been working two jobs: one as a cook at a fast-food restaurant, and another as a baby-sitter for families around the neighbourhood. On top of that, he was completing a course for early education at the community centre.
So Daichi had to pull his weight however way he could. He had no money and no high school diploma. The only thing he had going for him was karate. So, using the money he’d collected from tournaments (and a bit of help from Tetsurou as well), he did what Ukai-sensei had wanted for him back when their old master was still alive: he opened a dojo.
It was a moderate success from the beginning.
Parents who were afraid their kids would get mixed up in trouble, and adults interested in learning to defend themselves in the most dangerous tier of San Tokyo, flocked to Hokon Dojo. Children as young as four donned gi with his dojo’s badge on the sleeve, and over the years he’d taught over a hundred students, guiding and training them with the same discipline and passion instilled in him by his own master.
What was once his now belongs to Shiratorizawa’s estate.
They’ll probably auction it off, and it will be the last he hears of it. The car drives away, leaving their old lives in the dust.
Traffic is bad, as it often is on the weekends. It takes them two hours to get to Upper Tokyo.
At some point Shouyou straightens suddenly, causing Ryu and Kageyama to flinch. “Happy!” Daichi and Koushi turn in confusion. The ginger leans forward and slaps his hand against the shoulder of Daichi’s seat, panic in his eyes. “We have to turn around! I left Happy back at the apartment!”
“We’re not turning around,” Semi grunts from the driver’s seat. “We’re almost to Upper Tokyo.”
“No, but we have to!” Shouyou insists. “I know exactly where he is—please. I’ll be in and out in less than a minute!”
“What’s a ‘happy’?” Oohira asks in confusion.
“It’s Shouyou’s plushie we got him for his birthday,” Koushi answers.
Semi growls. “Ridiculous. We’re not going back for a stupid toy.”
Shouyou’s bottom lip quivers. “But—”
“No. You can just buy another one in Upper Tokyo. What kind of teenager still gives a fuck about toys anyway?” Semi slams his fists against the horn as a car in front of him swerves into his lane despite the snail-paced traffic.
Ryu throws an arm around Shouyou and reassures him softly. Koushi glares at Semi through the rear-view mirror, his fingers clutching the material of his pants to stop himself from saying something he’ll regret. Daichi forces a smile, reaching over to pat Shouyou’s knee.
“We’ll get you another one. Maybe the same one if we’re lucky.”
Shouyou is assuaged, but only enough to keep him from kicking up a fuss. For Daichi, it’s the best he can hope for. They’re already skirting on thin ice around Shiratorizawa. He doesn’t want to do anything that might compromise them further—especially where Shouyou or Koushi are concerned.
The moment they enter apartment 1565, Semi orders them to hand over their phones.
“It’s nothing personal,” Tendou purrs. He’d been in the lounge waiting for them. “We’ve got new phones with all the contacts you’ll need already inputted into them.”
“And what about the contacts in our old phones?” The irritation in Ryu’s voice takes Daichi a little off guard.
“What about your old contacts?” Semi asks sharply.
Ryu scowls. “Hey! I got friends in Lower Tokyo that I promised I’d keep in touch with!”
“And my phone was also a birthday present from my leader! What? First you’re going to take Happy away, and now this? What’s the big deal, huh?” Shouyou adds petulantly.
A smirk coils on Tendou’s mouth as he leans down to ruffles Shouyou’s apricot locks. “Your leader? You mean Grandmaster-san? Lemme put this into words you’ll understand simply, Shou-chan: your leader is now Don Ushijima Wakatoshi, and he’s gracious enough to gift you with fun new toys. So be good, and hand over your old ones, hm?”
“But—”
“You don’t need to worry your little heads over Lower Tokyo no more,” Tendou straightens, cutting off Ryu. “You’re Upper Tokyoites now. Does a prince bow to the rats?”
“My biological mother,” Kei speaks up, “she’s in Middle Tokyo, I—”
“Does a prince bow to the rats?” Tendou repeats, cupping a hand to his ear.
“Do as he says,” Koushi orders stiffly. He places his phone in the container Semi holds out in front of him, and the rest of the pack follow his lead. Shouyou is the last to reluctantly put his phone in the container, the charms Kageyama had gotten him rattling against the plastic.
Semi snaps a lid over the container and leaves. Goshiki steps forward and hands them each brand new phones, a single one of them worth all their old phones combined.
They’re then herded into a room with sofas and mirrors that go all the way up to the ceiling. The woman who’d taken their measurements the other day is waiting there, a measuring tape slung over her shoulder and a bunch of clothes strewn across the sofas. Tendou dances over to an armchair and flops into it.
“I can’t wait to see what you’ve dished out, Hiroko!” Tendou sing-songs.
Waseda beckons them over, her painted lips pulling into a welcoming smile. “Don’t be shy! I have some nice samples ready for you to try on. Let’s start with the alphas first, shall we? Stand over there for me—yes, in front of the mirrors.”
The rest of the pack find space on the couches or on the carpeted floor while the alphas go where they’re told.
“Look at this!” She tugs at the collar of Daichi’s t-shirt. “You poor things! Not to worry, you’ll be kings by the time I’m through with you!”
What’s wrong with his t-shirt? Looking in the mirror, Daichi can’t find anything wrong with it. It’s not fancy, but he wouldn’t say it’s ugly either.
They’re stuffed into suits most people wouldn’t wear in the peak of summer, but weather very rarely has influence over the fashion of Upper Tokyo, as most of the indoor tier is temperature-controlled. Daichi and Asahi are fitted into three-piece suits, while Kei and Kageyama are only at the mercy of waistcoats, slacks and ties.
“That suit’ll do fine for tonight,” Tendou comments offhandedly.
“Tonight?” Daichi asks, turning to check his side-profile in the mirror.
“Oh? Didn’t Semi tell you on the way here? You’ll be dining with Waka-chan tonight.”
Daichi chokes. “The whole pack?”
Tendou snorts. “No, just you. The Don usually dines with only one or two people at a time—if at all. You should be honoured.”
That’s not exactly the word he’d use to describe how he feels at the news. Every time Daichi calms himself down enough to be comfortable, another thing comes up that shoves all his anxiety back to the surface. It’s like being a firefighter in a burning building. When one fire’s extinguished, another one flares up to take its place.
“There’s a big range of colours,” Koushi mutters, looking over the amount of clothes piled up on the sofa.
Sweeping a hand over the shoulder pads of Asahi’s blazar, Waseda says: “Dress code is different up here in Upper Tokyo. Colour spectrums vary depending on your status.”
“The alpha colours are boring,” Tendou whines. “Nothin’ bright, just muted and stale and blah.”
“I’d have to disagree with you there, Tendou-san.” Waseda steps back to assess them critically. “I think alpha colours are classy and sophisticated. Very fitting for their status.”
Tendou rolls his eyes and flips through a magazine.
They have to swap through a myriad of different outfits before Waseda is even close to satisfied. Most are set aside for adjustments, but for the few that somehow pass her standards, she relegates to piles.
The betas are next, and their colour spectrum is the antithesis to what the alphas had tried on.
The majority of the alpha clothes are cool and understated: navies, browns, greys, mustards and plums. Beta colours, on the other hand, are bold and vibrant: butterscotches, shamrocks, crimsons and royal blues.
Yuu adjusts his red waistcoat and strikes a pose at the mirror. “I’m hot.”
Ryu whips back the lapels of his yellow blazer and places his hands on his hips. “Not as hot as me!”
“You guys look so cool!” Shouyou gushes.
Tadashi is lost in his green suit. “I look ridiculous.”
“I agree,” Kei says.
Waseda scowls and pulls Tadashi’s shoulders back. “It only looks ridiculous if you feel ridiculous. See? Your packmates have the right idea. You’ve got to own your clothes, don’t let them own you!”
“I look like a leprechaun.”
“That makes you lucky!” She slaps his shoulders and Tadashi flinches. “Now—try on these khaki shorts, will you?”
The omegas are fitted last, their colours soft and gentle: periwinkles, teals, peaches, beiges and mints.
“You were particularly difficult to pick for,” Waseda tells Shouyou as she adjusts a cream barrette on his head. “Not many omega colours go well with your orange hair.”
You wouldn’t know she struggled just by looking at her work. She’s put Shouyou in beige shorts with red suspenders that pull over a blue-collared shirt. His bowtie is cream like his barrette, with socks that pull up to his knees. Koushi is in something similar, except he’s in slacks and a daffodil-coloured tie.
“What d’you think?” Shouyou asks the pack, but he’s looking straight at Kageyama.
Daichi ignores that.
“You look …” Kageyama struggles to find words—or rather, he knows the word and doesn’t want to speak it into existence.
“Cute!” Tadashi provides accurately.
“You’re finally dressing your age,” Kei snickers.
Shouyou scowls. “You’re jealous because I get a cute hat!”
“Me? Jealous of you? In what universe?”
The youngest omega pokes his tongue out.
“Oh—almost forgot!” Waseda opens up a box. She thinks, tapping her finger against his lips, and then plucks out two velvet chokers with tiny white enamel birds on the front.
She secures them to the omegas’ necks, and Shouyou tugs at it while staring in the mirror. “I saw Goshiki wearing something similar. Is this like, omega fashion?”
Waseda holds up a tiny key that unlatches the attachment at the back of the chokers. “Nope. Ushijima had these especially made for his omegas so that their scent glands are protected when out in public. Upper Tokyo is a safe place for omegas—generally speaking—but accidents still happen. Being an omega makes you a target, but being one of The Don’s omegas …”
“It makes you a walking liability!” Tendou fills in cheerfully.
Daichi isn’t a possessive person. He never looked at Koushi and thought of him as my omega, my possession, mine mine mine—those were stupid thoughts for stupid alphas who were insecure in their relationships. But seeing Koushi with a choker, with Shiratorizawa’s symbol on it, he can’t help but see this as Ushijima sending him a message—something that aligns with viewing the omegas as his assets.
It’s a sickening thought. And when Koushi looks over at him, his fingers toying with the enamel bird, he can tell the omega is thinking the same thing.
The last articles of clothing Waseda has them try on are school uniforms for their new school. As discussed during negotiations on Thursday, the children would be pulled out of Kawagashi and enrolled into Kintsuru High. If you’re a resident of Upper Tokyo, you don’t need to take a test to get into the school, which is a big relief. There are many things his boys are good at, but studying is not one of them.
The uniform’s colour scheme is a combination of cream and dark purple, with a gothic ‘K’ stitched into the blazer pocket. It’s the clothes that his pack are the most curious about. Ryu sticks his nose up at the stiff padding, and Asahi yanks at his collar as if it’s too tight. The only one who’s excited to be in the new uniform is Shouyou.
“I can’t wait to go back to school!” the ginger cheers, hugging himself.
“There’s something I never thought I’d hear you say.” Koushi chuckles.
“You’ll be starting a little later than the others,” Tendou chimes in, licking his thumb and flicking over a page of the magazine in his lap.
“Huh?” Shouyou tilts his head, joy deflating. “How come?”
“There are a few steps we need to take before you’re verified. Until then, you can’t leave the apartment.”
Shouyou falls to his knees, whining dramatically. “House arrest again? This is so unfair!”
It’s hard to say whether this reassures him or not. It all comes down to who’s a bigger threat: Shiratorizawa or the public at large. In Lower Tokyo the verdict was black and white, but in Upper Tokyo the lines aren’t as sharply defined.
His heart does ache for Shouyou either way. The pain of his pack is made worse by his lack of authority over the situation, knowing that there’s nothing he can say or do to change things.
Arbitrary matters take up most of their afternoon. The fitting takes hours, and after that they’re given a tour around the entire apartment (though it’s hard to classify as an ‘apartment’ when it’s the size of a house).
There are three wings separated according to status: the right spiral staircase leads up to the omega quarters, the left to the alpha quarters, and there’s a hallway splitting off from the main lounge where the beta quarters reside. There are sixteen bedrooms, all with their own ensuites and walk-in wardrobes, three bathrooms, a lounge room, a dining room, a living room, a kitchen, and a laundry area.
“We used to have a gym in the beta wing, but we had to convert it into a bedroom,” Tendou complains. “Now we have to use the floor gym with the rest of our neighbours. Such a bother!”
It’s dinnertime by the time Tendou is done showing them around, and Koushi was right, they do have their own personal chef.
“His name is Hoshi, which I think is fitting,” Tendou sighs. “I wish for food and he gives it to me!”
Waseda shows up again to steal Daichi away. “I just made some quick adjustments to your suit while you were gone. It’s ready for your dinner with Don Ushijima.”
The Don lives on a completely different floor to the rest of his pack, Daichi discovers. A boy named Kawanishi Taichi (another alpha of Shiratorizawa) escorts him to Ushijima’s apartment—number 1791. The carpet in the hallway is a deep crimson, and the walls are black and gold. The apartment is just as big as theirs, but instead of white, the stairs, the floors and the walls are all onyx.
And cold. Daichi would describe the apartment as cold—and that has nothing to do with temperature.
The name Shiratorizawa has always struck fear within the hearts of rogues, but what he can say for apartment 1565 is that it is, at the very least, a home.
Before Daichi has time to process his surroundings, Kawanishi escorts him to the dining area. The floors are a black marble, and the glass table is framed in deep mahogany. Red carnations sprout from a gold vase in the centre, and 18th century European artwork lines the walls. His eyes travel from the ceiling chandelier, to the paintings, to the vase, to the table, and then finally settle on the man sitting at the head of it, a deer’s head mounted on the wall behind him.
Don Ushijima hasn’t aged much since Daichi last saw him.
The young man is all harsh lines, from the broad strokes of his shoulders down to the shape of his eagle-like eyes. A neatly cut fringe sits above his tensed brow, his large body relaxed against his seat. The Ushijima of the past didn’t look as refined. Although the man has always been muscular, Daichi can tell that there’s a deadliness to Ushijima’s stature that was lacking before.
But back then, Ushijima had only just made his first kill. Now he sits on a mountain of bodies.
There are two men standing guard behind him: a tall beta brunette and a short white-haired alpha. Daichi can’t say he’s ever seen them before, and just by the smell of them he knows they aren’t members of Shiratorizawa’s pack. They don’t even look like they’re from South Side.
The taller one approaches and pats him down.
“He’s all clear.”
Ushijima nods towards a seat near the centre. “Sit down, Sawamura. There’s a lot that still needs to be discussed.”
Kawanishi brings out the entrée: a platter of sourdough bread with toppings of egg and caviar. Daichi doesn’t have the palette for fine dining, but out of respect for The Don (and because it’s probably worth an entire month’s rent in Lower Tokyo), he takes two and nibbles on them sparingly.
Ushijima swirls his glass of red wine and takes a small sip. “Has Satori shown you around your new accommodations?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
“It’s a very nice place. I think my pack will grow to like it.”
“Mm.”
“And how have you been?”
“I’m in good health.”
“Good … good …”
The Don isn’t known for carrying pleasant conversation. He’s blunt and to the point, and cares little for awkward silences. It’s as though he is immune to the tension in the room, accustomed to it. It makes Daichi wonder how dinner is going back at the other apartment.
“I bought you a new dojo on level 34 in No Man’s Tower. Goshiki has collected a list of students interested in enrolling in your classes, and I had Shirabu get in contact with karategi distributers who are willing to provide uniforms and belts at a moment’s notice.”
Daichi blinks. “That’s … generous. Thank you.”
“I have one condition.”
Of course you do.
“You will participate in tournaments again.”
Daichi sighs. “With all due respect, it’s been years since I went to a tournament. I don’t think I’d get very far, even if I trained every day for the next six months.”
The Don pins him with a look he can only describe as bluntly dismissive, though his protests hold about as much weight as a feather on water. “You can and you will. The prize pool for tournaments in Upper Tokyo can go up to the tens of millions. I want you to participate in them representing Shiratorizawa.”
“I find it hard to believe money is the motivator for this,” Daichi says stiffly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Why is this important to you?”
“A few companies I’m friendly with want national representation, but they want to sponsor an athlete that can guarantee getting to at least the semi-finals. There are a few contenders that’ve been shortlisted, but you would be an easy bet.”
“I’ve only ever won tournaments from Lower and Middle Tokyo.”
“Upper Tokyo won’t be any different. The rules are the same.”
Ushijima gives him time to mull it over as they’re eating their soup, but it’s difficult for him to think when the silence is so distracting.
“What would you have me do if I refuse?” he asks slowly. Kawanishi takes away the empty bowl of soup and returns with mains.
Ushijima seems to have anticipated the question, much as he has anticipated most of Daichi’s responses throughout this conversation. It’s as if The Don has played this interaction out in his head over and over, and has an answer at the ready for every conceivable outcome. “I’d have you running errands. With so many packs to keep track of, I’m always in need of extra hands.”
The answer solidifies Daichi’s decision then and there. He’s knows full well what Ushijima means by ‘errands’, and he wants less to do with Ushijima’s errands than he does coming out of competitive retirement. “I’ll need a new uniform.”
“Done. I’ll have Goshiki get in contact with your training coach tomorrow.”
Daichi nods absently.
“Another thing—you can continue training your packmates, but the omegas are forbidden from attending any more of your classes.”
A piece of steak sits limply at the end of Daichi’s fork. He leans back in his chair, pinning The Don with a glare. “On what grounds? Koushi is a black belt, and Shouyou has more potential than most of the alphas who’ve trained at my dojo.”
“Omegas are born to fulfil a specific purpose,” Ushijima explains coolly. “Training omegas to defend themselves is understandable when you’re living in Lower Tokyo, but here in Upper Tokyo we uphold the old traditions.”
“‘Specific purpose’,” he echoes, the hairs on his arms standing up. “Now that you have my omegas, what exactly do you intend to do with them …?”
*
Dinner is uncomfortable. On one side, the original members of Shiratorizawa sit, and on the other, the new members (but to Shouyou they’ll always just be Karasuno). He gets the sense that they’re somehow intruding. They treat each other differently, they talk to each other differently, they have a whole dynamic that exists on a different wavelength, and he doesn’t know what to think of it.
The only saving grace of this evening is the food. The chef tells them the names of each meal before it’s brought out, and Shouyou can’t remember a single one. He openly drools over each dish that’s placed down on the table, but Shiratorizawa have this stupid rule where the alphas start eating first, then the betas, then the omegas. Oohira explains that this is the eating culture for most households in Upper Tokyo. Shouyou isn’t happy.
Kageyama even smirks at him from across the table as he fills his plate. But he doesn’t have to wait too long. The moment Tadashi takes a bite of tofu Shouyou is diving for the food.
There’s grilled salmon, and a potato dish, and something else that’s apparently Turkish cuisine and it’s all amazing.
He can’t believe Shiratorizawa eat like this every night!
Karasuno are awkward. They don’t engage with Shiratorizawa, or participate in their conversations. They keep to themselves, murmuring words when they know the other pack aren’t listening, or playing footsy under the table. It’s a bizarre thing to experience, because last night they’d been loud and carefree.
“Aren’t you happy you have an omega the same age as you in the pack, Tsutomu?” Shouyou snaps his head to the other side of the table, and catches Goshiki scowling at Semi.
“Happy? What’s there to be happy about?”
The alpha shrugs. “You’ve always complained there were no members your age. I thought you’d be excited to meet Hinata.”
“That little Shrimp? Tch, as if!”
Shouyou slips further down in his seat, his ears red. Tsuki-shithead snickers behind his chopsticks.
What’s Goshiki’s problem? It’s not like he tried to rob Goshiki and stabbed Shirabu!
“That’s not very nice of you, Tsu-chan. They’re a part of our pack now. You should be treating them as your new brothers!” Tendou drawls in that tone where you can’t tell if he’s genuine or joking.
“I’d rather pack up and move to Lower Tokyo.”
This joke goes over well with Shiratorizawa, not so much with Karasuno.
Sugawara pats Shouyou on the head. “Don’t worry about it. He just needs some time to warm up to you.”
“I don’t want him to warm up to me,” he mutters.
Omegas are ordered to clean up after dinner and he can’t believe the injustice.
“Make sure you clean the dishes thoroughly,” Tsuki-shithead says as he hands him his dirty plates. “I want to see my reflection in them.”
“Fuck off,” Shouyou growls, heaving what he can and following Shirabu out to the kitchen.
They finish stacking the dishwasher when he sees Goshiki by the entrance to the dining area having a quiet argument with Semi. The alpha gives the omega a nudge in their direction, and the boy huffs and marches straight up to them. He opens his mouth, hesitates, then glances back at Semi, who’s watching intently.
The omega sighs. “Semi said I have to show you guys to your rooms and help you settle in—or whatever. Just, follow me?”
“Smooth,” Shirabu snorts by the fridge.
“S-Shut up!”
Shouyou shares a look with Sugawara. Goshiki takes them up to the omega wing that they were given a brief introduction to earlier. Inside Sugawara’s room is a four-poster bed with an overhead canopy. It looks like a bed fit for royalty. The entire room screams expensive, from the tasselled pillows to the chairs that match the wood of the nightstands. The ensuite has Italian marble counters (well that’s what Goshiki brags anyway) and a glass shower. The toilet has all kinds of buttons on it that he’s never seen before. The best you could hope for at a restaurant in Lower Tokyo is a hole in the floor.
There’s an intercom by the nightstand. Goshiki explains that by pressing one of the buttons, it connects directly to Semi’s bedroom, and to contact him if they need anything.
“OK, that’s pretty much it. Hinata’s room next door is practically identical—except for the colours I guess.”
Hinata stops gawking over the walk-in wardrobe and spins around so fast Goshiki takes a step back. “My room?”
“Uh—yeah?”
“You mean … with my own bed?”
Goshiki puts his hands on his hips and scoffs. “Obviously.”
“Oh, that’s OK. I’ll just sleep with Sugawara.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” He snatches Hinata’s hand and drags him out into the hallway. “This room used to be my study and our pack had to give up a lot of our personal space for you guys, so instead of being ungrateful why do you just—”
“No!” Shouyou whines, trying to yank Goshiki’s wrist from his grip. “You don’t understand! I can’t sleep on my own! I get scared!”
“Scared?” Goshiki splutters. “Geez, and you lived in Lower Tokyo? Surprised you lasted that long.”
The raven-haired boy swings open a door and pulls him inside. As described, it’s almost identical to Sugawara’s room, with only a few stylistic changes here and there. He stares at the massive, king-sized, four-poster bed in the centre, teeming with decorative pillows and thinks: no.
Pulling free from Goshiki, he runs back to Sugawara’s room to find the silver-haired omega browsing the clothes in his wardrobe (courtesy of Waseda).
He throws himself at the older omega. “Don’t let them make me sleep in my own room! I don’t want my own room!”
Goshiki appears at the door, frazzled. “You could stand to be a little more grateful, you entitled brat!”
“That’s rich coming from you!” Shouyou snaps from behind Sugawara.
The silver-haired omega sighs. He places a gentle hand on Shouyou’s head and says, “Maybe just try sleeping in your room for one night? If it bothers you, we’ll talk to Eita about it tomorrow.”
Shouyou looks up at Sugawara with betrayal in his eyes. “Don’t make me!”
Sugawara frowns. “Shouyou …”
“See, you’re a nuisance even to your own packmate!” Goshiki huffs.
Ignoring Bowl-Cut Boy’s comment, he concedes defeat and takes a step away from Sugawara. “I’ll try.”
Sugawara smiles. “Good! I’m proud of you.”
*
Shouyou wakes up in cold sweat.
The room is dark—darker than what he’s used to, and he doesn’t register where he is. A sob is torn from his throat and he bursts into fitful tears. He can’t help it. He’s drawn back there—back to the streets where the unknown lurks in shadow. Open, clouded eyes stare lifelessly at him from beneath a pile of garbage, arms skinny and bone-white reach out from car windows trying to pull him in, a pregnant omega that looks exactly like him sits on the knee of a fat old man.
When his brain does connect the dots, it doesn’t do anything to make the pain go away. His chest is tight and he can’t breathe—oh god, he can’t breathe.
The first thing he does is try and leave, but then he remembers Semi locks all the omegas’ bedroom doors at night as an extra precaution. The panic climbs higher to the point of dizziness. It sticks in his throat like a ball of tangled nerves desperate to escape.
He punches the button on the intercom several times before he gets a gruff answer.
“What’s wrong, Hinata?”
Unable to speak through his sobs, he only cries in answer.
“Hold on, I’ll be there in a minute.”
Semi finds him sobbing and crying on the floor, and he’s at a loss with what to do. The alpha has some sense to fetch Sugawara, who knows Shouyou best, and the silver-haired omega scoops him up into his arms and carries him back to his room.
“I’m sorry, this is all my fault. I thought he’d be OK by himself, but I guess not.” Sugawara sits on the edge of the bed, holding Shouyou close as he scents him.
Semi stands by the door. “Goshiki and Shirabu used to have nightmares too, but they grew out of it.”
“We’re all different,” Sugawara says softly, running his hands through Shouyou’s hair. “Please understand, Shouyou is used to sleeping in a room with his entire pack. He always shares a futon with someone else.”
“He has to get over it at some point.”
Sugawara clutches Shouyou tighter. “Not yet.”
“Shall I let Goshiki know that he can have his study back then?”
“Yes, thank you.”
Semi nods and leaves, locking the door behind him.
*
Yet again, Shouyou has to watch his pack go to school without him.
“Have fun at the dentist,” Tsukishima sneers.
“Can’t believe you get a whole month off. You’re so lucky!” Noya pats him on the back as he strolls out the door, his brand-new uniform fitting him perfectly.
Tanaka gives him a thumbs up, but his smile falls as he turns away to follow Noya out the door. Azumane is green in the face and barely keeping himself together (did he even sleep last night?). Tadashi is marginally less nervous, but still walks close to Tsukishima like he used to back when they were just starting at Kawagashi Middle School. Looking up, he sees Kageyama standing next to him, peeking out the door to make sure Goshiki, Shirabu and Kawanishi aren’t eavesdropping.
“Good luck.”
Shouyou rubs his arm. “Thanks.”
Sugawara places his hands on Shouyou’s shoulders. “Have fun at school, Kageyama. Can’t wait to hear all about it when you get home!”
Their eyes linger on one another before Kageyama leaves, adjusting the straps of his school bag.
Semi drives them to the appointment, and the dentist looks at Sugawara’s teeth first while Shouyou trembles in the corner.
“Your teeth are surprisingly not too bad for a Lower Tokyoite,” the dentist comments, pleased.
“Thanks?” Sugawara doesn’t know whether to take that as a compliment or not.
He ends up getting a filling or two along with a clean to get rid of excess plaque.
The moment Shouyou gets into the chair and the dentist takes a look at his teeth, the man tuts, “Your molars are full of holes! We’ll have to get rid of them. Can’t have an omega with a bad smile now can we?”
Semi ends up booking him in to get his molars and wisdom teeth removed in one go. Sugawara is against this, saying that it’s excessive, but Semi won’t budge.
“My job is to do whatever it takes to up Hinata’s value grade before his examination. Getting his teeth fixed is on that list.”
When Kageyama and the others get back from school, Shouyou pesters them about it as they’re kicking off their shoes. As expected, Kageyama has nothing interesting to report: “It’s school. We sit and we learn. What were you expecting?”
Tadashi gives him something extra: “It’s trippy, Shouyou. The alphas have to sit at the front of class, betas in the middle, and omegas at the very back. And even though a lot of the alphas in my class were loud and disruptive, the omegas were disciplined the most. I think my teacher is a sadist!”
He makes a mental reminder to do everything in his power to avoid Tadashi’s class.
Goshiki still turns his nose up at him as he’s getting ready for bed. “Still sleeping in Sugawara’s bed? You big baby.”
The next day is the surgery to get his teeth removed. Sugawara isn’t allowed to come along this time—according to Semi he has a job interview with a prestigious early learning centre in No Man’s Tower.
The surgeon, who introduced herself to him in the waiting room, turns to face him, smiling behind her surgical mask. “You haven’t eaten anything in the past eight hours?”
Shouyou shakes his head.
“Good! Now I’m going to apply the anaesthesia, can you count to three for me?”
“One … two …”
The next thing he knows he’s waking up in a private room with a swollen face and cotton balls in his mouth. The world around him is just a surreal backdrop to the thoughts playing out in his mind. He doesn’t register Semi guiding him into the parking lot and taking him home. He doesn’t even react when Sugawara tucks him into bed and asks if he needs anything.
It’s the pain of waking up once the anaesthesia has fully worn off that commits itself to memory.
It’s a long week of recovery. The first three days are the worst. He vomits and cries a lot. Pillow cases are swapped out a few times because of all the blood. The pack visit him in groups of twos and threes every day. Tsukishima tells him he looks like a chipmunk—a really ugly chipmunk, but he takes that asshole’s word with a grain of salt. Even Goshiki and Shirabu check in, but only so that Bowl-Cut Boy can tease him for being a baby who wets the bed and eats applesauce—and he doesn’t even do those things! It’s Sugawara that nurses him back to health, not that he was expecting anyone else do it.
“I got the job!” Sugawara tells him excitedly the first evening he dines with the rest of the pack since the surgery. “I start in a week. Isn’t that exciting? I got to meet some of the kids after my interview. They were so cute!”
But Shouyou still has three weeks left of house arrest, and his consultation with the cosmetic surgeon is tomorrow.
“That’s so exciting!” Shouyou gushes, grinning through the anxiety building in his chest.
Sugawara beams back at him, and he decides he’s not going to tell the other omega how scared he feels inside.
The consultation is quick. Semi explains what they want done, and then the surgeon goes into gruesome detail on the procedure as he draws a blue marker across Shouyou’s jawline. He excuses himself to the restroom as the surgeon and Semi discuss stuff that go straight over his head, and the moment he locks the cubicle door he breaks down.
It’s quick but dramatic. He spends several minutes hyperventilating on the bathroom floor beside the toilet, and then he picks himself back up, washes his face in the sink, and returns to the surgeon’s office like nothing happened. The alphas are still speaking as if he never left.
“I’d recommend two weeks before he can attend school, and a month before he can do physical activity like sport. Swelling lasts a couple of months if you follow post-op instructions—longer if you don’t—but a full recovery can take up to twelve months.”
The news is a punch to the gut. A whole year of recovery. For surgery he doesn’t even need.
“We were hoping to book him in for a Value Exam by the end of the month.” Semi frowns.
“You might have to postpone. You can’t force his recovery.”
“The Don will be displeased.”
The surgeon shrugs. “If you keep him in a compression strap and continually ice the affected areas, it’ll do some good. Other than that, there’s not much more you can do.”
A date is booked. Shouyou is given three days to mentally prepare himself. On the way back Semi orders him not to tell Sugawara and the others, and Shouyou doesn’t ask why. It’s only 2pm when they get home, but Shouyou drags himself to Sugawara’s bed and sleeps straight through dinner.
Notes:
This fandom has been sleeping on Goshiki and it shows XD #GOSHIKIRIGHTS
Chapter 14: Blood for Beauty
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
RIP.
“Son of a—” Koushi stuffs his fist in his mouth, resisting the urge to wrap his hands around the beautician’s throat.
The hardened old hag doesn’t even flinch, spreading more hot wax over another patch of Koushi’s leg and slapping a strip of paper over it.
It was Tendou’s suggestion to go to a beauty salon before his Examination, which is booked for the Friday before his first day at Sunshine Early Learning Centre. To be specific, the alpha framed it as a suggestion, which Koushi interpreted as an order, since Goshiki whipped out his tablet halfway through the conversation and made an appointment before he’d even agreed to go.
And he’s not clueless. He knew this would happen eventually, whether he got the job at Sunshine or not. The open conversation Dr Esaki had with Tendou last week still burns freshly on the surface of his mind, the exchange shameless, as if he and Shouyou (and the rest of Karasuno) weren’t even in the room. They’d scored low on what Dr Esaki described as ‘maintenance’. A glow-up was in their futures.
But he’d hoped it would be sooner rather than later.
The woman—a fellow omega—waits a couple of seconds before gripping the corner of the strip.
“Wait—”
She yanks it off like a Band-Aid and Koushi whips his head back and groans.
Semi took Shouyou shopping for musical instruments (apparently at Kintsuru it’s compulsory for omegas to learn at least one instrument as an extracurricular activity), so Yamagata had been the one to drop him off at around 10am. Looking at the clock on the wall, it’s almost 2pm, meaning he’s been here for four brutal hours.
In that time, he’s gotten: a manicure, and pedicure, a haircut, a mud bath, then a facial, then a foot scrub, and now a full-body wax that he was not warned about in advance. They’d started with the eyebrows, then moved on to facial fuzz you could only see under a microscope, then any and all body hair. Now, Koushi isn’t a hairy guy—most omegas aren’t—but this brutish woman seems to find hair on him that he hadn’t even known existed. Now that her attention has narrowed down to his legs, he prays this is a sign he’s nearing the end of this session of pure agony.
The last patch of hairs around his left ankle are torn from their follicles and at long last, Yumi puts down the wooden stick and turns off the machine keeping the wax malleable.
“Why are you Lower Tokyoites so unkempt?” she grunts as she dumps the strip of paper in the bin and wipes his legs down with a damp towel. “The way you act it’s like you’ve never gotten your legs waxed.”
“That’s because I haven’t,” he replies with an edge of annoyance. Yumi has been abusing him for the past twenty minutes, and now she’s insulting his home turf? These Upper Tokyo snobs really have no shame.
“Why not?”
“We couldn’t afford it.”
“What? They don’t sell wax strips at the grocery stores down there or something?”
“They do.” He sighs. “There were just more important things to spend our money on.” Things most people here don’t even think about, like bills, food, water …
“An omega’s maintenance is important too, you know.”
Koushi hums in a way that can be construed as agreement, but he just wants to drop the conversation altogether. Sure, an omega’s maintenance might be important here, where an omega’s beauty is commodified and valued above all other desirable attributes. But in Lower Tokyo, omegas don’t have that kind of luxury. An omega is more likely to worry about their next meal than they are about hair on their legs.
By the time he enters the waiting area he’s exhausted. Getting pampered is supposed to be a refreshing experience, but he’s tenser than when he entered the establishment. He calls Yamagata to come pick him up and distracts himself with a magazine sitting on the coffee table.
As expected, it’s a beauty magazine.
The titles of articles sit at the forefront of the cover, with a group of three beauties as its centrepiece, delicate, skinny and feminine, bathed in pastel chiffon.
“The Omega’s Must-Have Guide to Losing that Extra 5kgs”, “Honey Facials for Blackhead Breakouts? Page 34 to Find Out More!”, “Short Hair In, Long Hair Out. See the Styles Omega Celebrities Are Rocking This Summer!”, “What Alphas Want: 10 Hot Tips for Pleasing Your Bae”, and then Sugawara thinks he’d rather stare at a wall than read any more of it.
Yamagata only lets him stew in his bitterness for ten minutes before showing up. The beta isn’t all that bad. Better company than Semi, anyway. More talkative. He’d practically talked his ear off on their way to the beauty salon. But as they’re getting into the elevator to go up, Koushi notices that the beta is suspiciously quiet. Well, quieter.
“So are there any good restaurants you like going to in Upper Tokyo?” he starts conversationally, not wanted the elevator ride to be too awkward.
“Oh—uh, sure, sure,” the beta nods, looking out the window. “But we don’t go out for dinner often, really when we have meetings with associates. The whole ‘dining out’ experience is kinda plain when you have a five-star chef that can cook you any dish you want at home.”
“Oh, that’s a little sad.” Though he can see why they don’t eat out much.
“It’s also a risk as well. You don’t know if the people working at a restaurant have been bribed to poison you—it’s a whole thing.”
“Must be hard looking over your shoulder all the time.”
Yamagata rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, it’ll take time for you to get used to it. I mean—you’re not a hot target yet, but once word gets around to other packs it’ll be a pain.”
“I don’t see how killing me will affect The Don,” Koushi says casually.
“Well—okay, but maybe in the future it might.”
“Sure.”
The beta shifts his weight from one foot to the other. Koushi leans against the glass and watches the numbers climb into the hundreds.
Neither of them speak for the rest of the ride.
When they enter the apartment, he finds Semi in the lounge on the phone. Koushi barely regards him as he goes up to his room to survey the damage the cosmetologists unleashed upon him. He expects to find Shouyou there, but pauses mid-step when he finds no such thing. Strange.
Ten minutes later, and Semi is still on the phone.
Koushi canvased the entire apartment in that time, and doesn’t find any evidence that the redhead is here. And it’s not as if the omega is hard to miss—if his apricot curls don’t grab your attention, his bubbly personality definitely will. But he doesn’t find the boy singing in the bathroom, or lost in a closet, or watching TV.
With deliberate grace, he settles on the sofa adjacent to Semi and patiently waits. He doesn’t follow the conversation all that much, his mind syphoning through all the possibilities in his head.
The moment Semi ends the call, Koushi asks evenly: “What did you end up getting?”
“What?” the alpha frowns at him.
“You said you were taking Shouyou to get a musical instrument for school,” he says calmly. “What did you end up getting?”
“Uhm—a flute.”
“A flute.”
“Yes.”
“May I see it?”
Semi looks up at the ceiling in defeat. “Hinata’s at the hospital.”
Koushi pauses, processing the information, and then his face flushes with anger. “You took him to get him that jaw reduction surgery, didn’t you?”
“Yes.”
The fury is so sudden and so visceral that he shakes, fingers dragging across the leather and then coiling to fists. “He only just recovered from his dental surgery! Those stitches probably haven’t even fully healed yet, and you’ve taken him to get his jawbone shaven down? Are you fucking for real?”
Semi clears his throat uncomfortably. “Omegas shouldn’t swear—”
“Oh, I’ll fucking swear. I’ll swear as much as I fucking want you fucking bastard! How dare you? And I guess it was no coincidence that Tendou sent me to the beauty salon so I’d be out of your hair, right? So I wouldn’t ask too many questions? It’s almost as if you knew I’d be against it!” he screeches at the top of his lungs, hoping to be heard by any member of Shiratorizawa that might be lurking nearby.
“The incisions will be made in his cheeks, not his gums. The surgeon reassured me that the stitches from his dental surgery will not be disrupted.”
Koushi scoffs. “Anyone will tell you people anything to get your money. Do you have any idea the amount of influence you and your pack have over every day people? You don’t, do you? If you went around saying the sky is red everyone would nod their heads and say you’re right!”
“You’re blowing this way out of proportion. Hinata will stay at hospital overnight, and he’ll be back here in the morning.” Semi sighs as if Koushi is being inconvenient, running a hand through his sandy locks.
Tears sting the corners of his eyes. “How could you be so inconsiderate? We’ve barely been here a week and you’re already treating Shouyou like—like a—a fucking piece of clay! Shaping him into whatever the fuck suits you because—because what? Of a number on a piece of paper? Fuck you. Fuck Shiratori-whatever. And fuck Upper Tokyo!”
He storms off, because it’s the only appropriate thing to do in this situation.
He goes to his bedroom. It’s the one area in the house where he can have total privacy. He sinks onto the bed, confronted with the uncomfortable thought that Shouyou is having heavy surgery and will be sleeping alone, overnight, in a hospital, scared and in pain.
The kids get home a couple hours later. He hears Goshiki and Shirabu pass in the hallway. He gets a knock at his door from Tadashi, but he tells him he doesn’t want to be disturbed. At dinner, Semi comes in and leaves a tray of food on the vanity. He has the decency to look guilty, at least. At some point Daichi knocks on the door, but Koushi pretends to be asleep. It hurts to turn them away, but he also isn’t in the right headspace to talk.
Semi comes to check on him, probably before he locks the doors for the night. “You didn’t eat your food.”
Koushi ignores him.
Semi sighs. “The recovery process for jaw reduction surgery is longer than we anticipated, so The Don asked me to book him in as soon as possible. Ideally there would’ve been more breathing space between surgeries, but we don’t have time on our side.”
Time? Time for what? Whatever. He doesn’t care.
Still, Koushi ignores him.
He feels the end of the bed dip. Semi releases a sigh. “I’m leaving at eight if you want to come with me to get Hinata tomorrow.”
He turns to look at the man sitting by his feet, eyebrows pinched. “I’ll be ready.”
Semi nods and leaves, taking the tray of untouched food with him. The click of the door lets him know it’s been locked. The apartment sleeps, but Koushi’s eyes are open throughout the night.
*
School uniforms aren’t meant for Saturdays, and yet here Tobio sits, miserably watching the morning hours tick by on the clock above the white board.
When Oohira had woken him up at six in the morning, he thought for a moment that it was a Monday. He’d dragged himself out of bed, washed his face, brushed his teeth, and struggled into his uniform. It took until he was shimmying into his school blazar to remember that it was Saturday morning. Apparently he wasn’t the only one baffled by this, as when he sought out Oohira downstairs in the dining area, he found that Tsukishima had already beaten him to the punch.
“First-years go to school on the fourth Saturday of the month, second years on the third, and third years on the second,” Oohira explained patiently.
“For how long?” Tsukishima presses, his hair in disarray and his glasses balanced haphazardly on his nose.
“Classes start at 7.30, and finish at 11.30.”
It’s now 11.15, and fifteen minutes seems like a lifetime away. There’s already a pile of homework waiting for him at his desk, why does this stupid school have to make his life that much more stressful?
When Hinata badgered him for details, he’d been deliberately vague. Kintsuru is a place you have to experience to truly understand what it’s like. On the paper, it’s a school just like any other. They have classes, they have uniforms, and they have rules. But there’s also more than that. There’s a culture, a prestige that’s so far removed from the education Tobio was used to up until this point, that to even try and compare Kawagashi to Kintsuru is like describing the differences between a dingy and a cargo ship.
The classrooms only accommodate for one level of No Man’s Tower. The school occupies three in total. The level above them is a trifecta of spaces: a gymnasium with an Olympic swimming pool, a basketball court, a badminton court and a tennis court; a concert hall where students gather for assemblies, productions and concerts; and a dorm room for international and interstate students. On the third floor are fields for sports: a baseball field, a soccer field, an equestrian centre and an archery range. Some of the facilities aren’t exclusive to students of Kintsuru, but their usage takes priority over the public.
While he gawks at the excess until he’s sick to his stomach, for most of his classmates this lifestyle is all they’ve known. At Kawagashi, maybe one in every ten were a rogue or a stray that got lucky, one in five were orphaned from a young age. But here, Tobio has yet to meet a kid that doesn’t have at least one living parent in their household; and the family name dictates the classroom pecking order.
Well—for the most part. Status also plays a key role.
On Saturday the dynamic is switched up. The omegas leave for what their teacher called ‘domestic studies’, while the betas and alphas stayed behind for socio-economics and finance. He’ll have to ask Hinata what domestic studies entails once he starts school. He’s interested to know why it’s exclusive to omegas. What? Do they think alphas and betas are too dumb to take it?
Finally, finally, the bell rings.
Tobio collects his books and packs away his desk. He meets Yamaguchi and Tsukishima out in the hallway. The only time he’s ever grateful for Tsukishima’s height is when there’s people everywhere and it’s impossible to find him otherwise.
“How was class?”
Tsukishima shrugs and looks away. Yamaguchi rubs his arm. “It was weird.”
Tobio frowns. “Why? What happened?”
“They were teaching us about Lower Tokyo,” Yamaguchi explains.
“Oh. And?”
“There were a few … inaccuracies.”
“Our teacher said that people from the lowest tier are subhuman,” Tsukishima seethes under his breath. “That the reason we live in poverty is because of our subpar intelligence and our inability to control our own base desires.”
“You’re kidding,” Tobio says flatly.
“W-Well, he didn’t say that word for word but …” Yamaguchi scratches his head.
“He may as well have.” Tsukishima scowls.
They get to the south elevators, and find the place packed. Even though Tobio is tall for his age, he still struggles to peer over the many heads to see the elevators opening and closing. He thinks he spots the top of Goshiki’s head, but he could be wrong. Congestion usually isn’t this terrible. Most students have clubs after school, so students leave at different times, but since it’s a Saturday …
“Let’s try the north elevators instead,” Tsukishima turns and leaves. “I heard it’s less crowded.”
“But that’s on the other side of school!” Yamaguchi whips around and accidently shoulders a tiny, blonde beta girl who’s standing behind him.
The girl shrieks, but Yamaguchi’s hands shoot out to steady her before she stumbles over.
“S-Sorry!” he cries. “Are you OK?”
“Y-Yes! Yes! I’m fine! That was my fault! I shouldn’t have been standing so close to you! I was trying to see how many people there were!” The girl rushes her words like she’s trying to set a record.
“Uh—don’t worry about it!” Yamaguchi gives the girl a pat on the shoulder and then runs after Tsukishima. Kageyama rolls his eyes and catches up to them.
The retail district on floor 135 is just as uncomfortable as the hallways in Kintsuru. It’s swarming with shoppers, and every single one of them is filthy rich. An obnoxiously large screen above a makeup megastore showcases a lip-glossed model dragging her tongue along a stick of lipstick and winking suggestively at onlookers. Luxury cars spin on moving pedestals, and mannequins pose like gold medallists above the traffic of shoppers. On the ceiling, LED screens replicate the natural skies of summer, birds chirping and all.
“Ne, Tsukki? Should we go shopping?” Yamaguchi is bewitched by the illusions of exuberance harassing them from every angle. “There’s a lot we could buy with our new credit cards.”
Along with their new phones, they were each given a credit card they could use at their leisure—but Tendou warned them that they have a strict four-hundred-thousand-yen limit per day. Which is such an outrageous number he wonders why the redhead even bothered to tell them that.
“Don’t be stupid.” Tsukishima maintains a permeant look of disgust; classes put him a foul mood. “We can play pretend all we like, but deep down we aren’t like them. We’ll never be like them.”
“Geez, Tsukki. Today’s class really pissed you off, didn’t it?”
The blonde pushes his glasses up his nose. “Not at all.”
Yamaguchi snickers. “You’re an awful liar.”
“Shut up, Yamaguchi.”
A twinkle catches Kageyama’s eye, and he stops to stare at the jewellery on display in the windows. Past the window, he sees two men leaning over a display case as the smaller one tries on some diamond rings.
“Hey idiot.”
He blinks and tears his eyes from the sickeningly sweet scene. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi have stopped to look at him.
The blonde rolls his eyes. “If you give your dumbass boyfriend a ring, he’ll lose it within the hour. It’ll be a complete waste of money.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Hinata Shouyou? You know, the omega you stare at from across the table every dinner with a look of devastating heartbreak?”
“We’re not together anymore,” he grouches, stuffing his hands into his pockets.
“Maybe alphas in general are just shitty liars?” Yamaguchi hums to himself.
“Shut up, Yamaguchi,” Kageyama and Tsukishima say at the same time.
They find Goshiki outside the apartment door, looking at his phone, then at the door knob, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. When he senses their approach, the omega immediately straightens. The nervousness on his face morphs into guarded indifference as he shoves his phone back into his pocket.
“Your beta’s causing trouble,” Goshiki sneers.
Tsukishima and Tobio look at Yamaguchi, who puts his hands up. “What? Don’t look at me! I haven’t done anything!”
The omega rolls his eyes. “No, not that one. The bald one.”
“Tanaka,” the three of them deadpan.
Tobio frowns. “Why? What’s he done?”
“He punched Semi in the face is what he did.” Goshiki scowls. “But why should we expect anything less from a filthy rat?”
Tsukishima uses his full height to glare down at Goshiki, who himself stands at over six feet tall. “Don’t act all high and mighty. You’re a rat just as much as I am. It’s written across your face.”
Goshiki’s scar scrunches as he scowls.
“Why would Tanaka do that?” Yamaguchi asks worriedly.
At this, Goshiki falters. Instead of answering, he unlocks the door and hurries inside, the others not far behind.
They find Tanaka sitting on a sofa in the lounge, nursing an icepack wrapped around his wrist. Semi is on the other sofa with a swollen eye. Tendou stands near the coffee table with his hands on his hips, tapping his foot like an indignant cartoon character.
Goshiki drops his schoolbag and runs to Semi’s side. “Oh god, it’s worse than what Shirabu described.”
“I’m fine,” Semi sighs, waving the omega away. “It’s not a big deal.”
“Did you hurt your hand?” Tobio approaches Tanaka.
The beta shakes his head, avoiding his stare.
“I broke it,” Tendou reveals bluntly.
Kageyama whips around to glare at the redhead. “For what?”
“For punching my packmate, obviously. Can’t have him getting away with it, or else he might do it again! It’s simple training even dogs can understand. Although,” Tendou shoots Tanaka a sharp look, “I guess some dogs need a firmer hand than others.”
Tanaka glares at the ceiling as if he might burn a hole through it.
“If his wrist is broken, he needs to go to a hospital.” Tsukishima steps forward.
“I know—I’ll have Hayato and Daichi go with him, right after I’m done lecturing him on manners.” Then Tendou calmly picks up a magazine from the coffee table, rolls it up, and smacks Tanaka on the nose.
“Ow! What the fu—”
“Bad dog. Punch one of your packmates again and you’ll be sleeping on our doorstep!”
The three of them grimace. It isn’t easy to watch Tanaka be humiliated this way.
“But why would Tanaka-senpai punch someone?” Yamaguchi says aloud. “It’s not like him to attack someone out of nowhere.”
“He was the closest I could get my hands on—that one,” Tanaka growls, nodding at Semi. “How could you do that to Shouyou? He’s sixteen! He’s the sweetest, kindest kid in the whole world and you fucking—”
But Tobio’s ability to hear at all comes to a screeching halt at the mention of Hinata’s name. He leans over Tanaka, their faces so close their noses almost touch.
“What about Hinata? Is he in trouble? Where is he? Did that bastard hurt him?”
“Hey!” Goshiki yells.
“He’s in his room,” Tanaka says grimly. “See for yourself. But I gotta warn you—it’s not pretty.”
That’s all the information he processes before he drops his bag and dashes up the stairs leading to the omega wing. The door to Sugawara’s room is ajar, and he hears gentle voices filtering out into the hallway. Tsukishima and Yamaguchi are coming up the stairs as he pushes the door, opening it further to reveal the rest of Karasuno crowded around the bed.
“You’re back,” Azumane greets from a chair, his smile forced. “How was it? It must be weird going to school on a Saturday, huh?”
Tobio ignores him without meaning to, his eyes drawn to the bed. Noya blocks most of his view from where he sits at the foot of it, and he can see Sugawara’s silver hair creeping into his field of vision. He nears, and Sawamura steps forward, placing a hand on his shoulder.
“It might be a bit of a shock,” his lea—ex-leader says.
“Let me see him.” He makes his bravest face, but on the inside his heart flutters like a humming-bird’s wings.
Sawamura reluctantly steps aside and the air rushes out of his lungs, a blow to the gut.
On the bed, nestled underneath Sugawara’s arm, is Hinata. His small face is enveloped on either side by a cold compression strap, and his face is bruised and swollen, like he’s just been beaten within an inch of his life. It’s similar to when he got his teeth out just a week prior, only a hundred times worse. Half-lidded, cinnamon eyes meet his, and so much shame and embarrassment is conveyed in that one brief look that it leaves Tobio stunned.
“Was he attacked?” Tsukishima asks from behind him. If he weren’t in shock he would’ve spun around and accused the blonde of sounding concerned.
“Shouyou just got out of surgery,” Noya informs them with barely restrained anger.
“More surgery?” Yamaguchi asks in confusion. “What was it for this time?”
“Plastic surgery,” Sugawara says, his eyes red. “They made him get his jawline shaved down.”
Hinata looks at Sugawara, then picks up something in his lap that Tobio hadn’t noticed. It’s a whiteboard. He scribbles something on it, and then shows it to the pack.
I’m A-OK! Don’t worry about me~!
Tobio swallows. He can’t feel his legs anymore.
Sawamura pulls up a chair by Hinata’s side and offers it to Tobio. He sits down without a second thought, his eyes never leaving the omega’s face.
“So yesterday …” Tobio clutches his uniform.
“He was at the hospital,” Sugawara answers.
“You knew?” He snaps his head to the side, almost accusatory. The rage is so sudden and so heated that the omega leans away.
“No,” Sugawara blinks, “they kept it from me.”
“They kept it from all of us,” Daichi mutters, his arms crossed over his chest. “It’s my fault. I should’ve been more vigilant.”
Sugawara shakes his head. “Don’t be silly, if anyone’s to blame, it’s me. I knew they were planning the surgery, I just never imagined it would be so soon. I thought I’d have more time to convince Tendou against it, but the bastard probably knew that—which is why I wasn’t told in advance.”
“It doesn’t matter whose fault it is,” Noya says, fisting the comforter. “They did it because they could.”
Hinata cleans the board with his sleeve. Tobio leans over to read as he writes.
How was school?
Tobio’s breath hitches, barely able to force down his anger. “Your face is purple and you’re asking us about school?”
The omega huffs. Yes.
“What the hell are you expecting me to say, idiot? It sucked. I sat at a desk for a few hours and didn’t retain any information.”
Hinata pouts. Please tell me more? I want a distraction.
“Distraction from what?” He scowls.
The pain. Duh.
He blinks, feeling dumb. In a single moment, a bit of his rage leaves him. “Oh.”
Sawamura pats him on the shoulder and says: “I’ll leave you boys to it. I’m going to check on Tanaka.”
Sugawara nods. “Be safe.”
Tsukishima sits on the edge of the bed. “We learnt about Lower Tokyo today—well Fantasy Lower Tokyo, anyway—from the perspective of Upper Tokyoites.”
Ohhhh. What was that like?
“For one thing, my teacher thinks we eat roadkill.”
Hinata grimaces through a smile. Dumbass. Still smiling. Always smiling.
Did you tell him we don’t do that???
Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “No. I’d rather these snob goblins stay misinformed. It keeps them stupid and gullible.”
Tell me more!!
Karasuno come and go from Sugawara’s room for the rest of the day, even when Hinata is napping, but Tobio makes a point of staying right up until Oohira calls him down for dinner that evening. The other alpha scrutinizes him as he brushes Hinata’s fringe away from his sleeping face, but he doesn’t give a shit.
As he’s descending the staircase at a deliberate pace, he hears Tendou’s distinct voice from the dining room.
“So the doctor says he’ll be back in ten, and leaves us in the waiting room. And we’re sitting there, right, and out of nowhere three nurses—all omegas—come out of nowhere and start fussing over Semi’s eye like—you should’ve seen it—the way they were acting it’s like he was suffering from an acid burn!”
He enters the room in time to see Noya nudge Azumane in the rubs. “Black eyes. What’d I tell ya?”
“Ah, Tobio-kun,” Tobio almost trips when Tendou uses his first name, “joining us at last! I swear you fret over Shou-chan as bad as Kou-chan.”
He bows stiffly and takes the empty seat next to Tanaka. There’s another empty seat at the other end where Shirabu usually sits, but his absence isn’t alarming. Often one or two members of Shiratorizawa are summoned to dine with The Don on irregular nights of the week. Sawamura went once on the first night, but hasn’t dined with him since.
“How’s the wrist?” he asks, eying the cast.
Tanaka flexes his fingers. “What? This ol’ thing? Were you worrying over your senpai? Did you clutch your pearls and think: ‘I hope my strong, brave senpai is going to be alright’?”
Good to see Tanaka in a better mood.
“Not at all.”
Tanaka throws an arm around Tobio, smirk dialled up to eleven. “No need to be coy, my cute widdle kouhai. It’s perfectly OK to worry over your senpai, but I can assure you right now—I’m as healthy as ever!”
“Yes, it was a clean break, so it should heal quickly,” Tendou drawls. “You’re welcome, by the way.”
Tanaka glowers.
“Is …” the table quietens as Goshiki speaks up, only for the omega to scowl and look away. “Never mind.”
“Ah right, almost forgot to tell you, Tsu-chan,” Tendou taps his ear with the palm of his hand, “The Don’s rut is expected sometime mid-October, so be sure to put that in your calendar.”
The boy nods. “I already marked it down.”
Tendou ruffles the omega’s head. “Always so diligent! Such a good omega.”
Goshiki bows his head. “I’m not worthy of such praise.”
“Nonsense! I’ll just have to keep telling you until you believe it,” Tendou sing-songs, poking Goshiki in the cheek. “Also! Kei, Tobio, finish up your homework tonight. Taichi and me are taking you on a little field trip tomorrow.”
Sawamura is suspicious. “What kind of field trip?”
Tendou pops a bit of pork in his mouth and hums. “To the gun range. We’re teaching your little alphas how to shoot. Isn’t that exciting?”
“They’re too young!” Sugawara protests. “Why would they need to learn how to use a gun anyway? They’re proficient at karate. They can defend themselves just fine!”
“Ah yes, bringing fists to a gun fight is always a great idea,” Tendou mocks. “But this has nothing to do with self-defence anyway. No, no—we’re teaching them how to kill. It’s a much quicker method of dealing with things.”
Dinner has long finished and Sugawara and Sawamura are still arguing with Tendou (Sugawara and Sawamura argue, but Tendou either deflects or jeers at them). Since Shirabu is dining with Ushijima, Hinata is out of action, and Sugawara is too busy yelling, Tobio helps Goshiki take the dishes to the kitchen.
“Thanks,” the omega mutters, quietly stacking the dishwasher while Tobio scrapes leftovers into the bin.
He gives a nod.
When they’re finished, Tobio is about to leave when Goshiki speaks up.
“Um—!”
He looks over his shoulder and is surprised to see the omega blushing.
“I wanted to ask—is uhhh …” Goshiki grimaces. “How—” he clears his throat.
Tobio sighs impatiently.
“How is Hinata!” It’s a question, but Goshiki exclaims it with such force it sounds like a statement.
His eyebrows shoot up. “Uh, tired but cheerful?”
“G-Good!” The omega storms away without another word, leaving Tobio to blink at the spot where he was just standing.
Notes:
Hey guys!! Update came a little earlier cuz my finals are due tomorrow and I won't have any time to do it tonight. Hope you liked the chapter!! <3
Chapter 15: Turning Cogs
Notes:
TW: Grooming/Paedophilia. It's implied that Ushijima uses Goshiki for his ruts (Goshiki is 16, Ushijima is 22). It gets expanded on a little more in further chapters (nothing graphic at all I promise)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Swells of power kick up his arms and linger in his shoulders with each pull of the trigger, the deafening shots muffled by the noise cancellers on his head. One bullet hits the second circle from the outer ring, another doesn’t hit the target at all.
Bullets shower the target next to him, and he peers over the partition at Kageyama, who unloads his handgun until the clip empties. The shorter alpha is heaving, teeth pulled back in a snarl. There’s sweat dotting his brow, and he’s panting as if he’s just run a marathon. Looking closely, he can see a slight shake in his grip on the gun. Kei eases off his noise cancellers.
“Not a single one of your bullets even hit a four,” he says bluntly.
The raven-haired alpha jerks, surprised that he’s even been addressed, and rips off his noise cancellers.
“What did you say?” he snaps.
“I said none of your bullets even hit a four.” To emphasize this, he points at Kageyama’s target.
Kageyama looks at his target and scowls. “Yeah? So? What’s it to you?”
“What’s the point of target practice if you can’t even hit the target?”
“You’re one to talk! What’s your best? A two?”
Tsukishima rolls his eyes. “At least I’m trying.”
It’s their third trip to the shooting range in a week. Sawamura and Sugawara’s protests were swiftly shutdown by Ushijima’s verdict, who determined that learning to handle guns would make Kei and Kageyama more useful to them. Kei doesn’t care much for violence. He saw enough of it on the streets of Lower Tokyo. Sometimes he even saw it at Kawagashi. But he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy going to the shooting range. Here, he can switch off his brain and forget about homework, school and pack drama. Even if it’s only for an hour or two.
Kageyama, on the other hand, has his shoulders up to his ears every time he tries to hit the bull’s eye of a target (and almost always fails). The moment he hears shots echoing from the shooting range, a combination of determination and spite mar his face, like he’s having PTSD flashbacks or something. It’s weird.
“No need to be so hasty, Tobio-kun!” Tendou croons, coming up behind the alpha and slapping him on the shoulder. “Oika-chan didn’t become South Side’s number one sharpshooter overnight, y’know.”
Kageyama shrugs off Tendou’s hand. “I know that.”
A smirk creeps up onto Kei’s face. “Oh? Is that why you’re always frustrated when you come here? Because you want to be better than Oikawa?”
“No!” Kageyama snaps the safety on and puts down the gun.
“It’s funny. In the years we’ve known each other, you never once mentioned Oikawa was a sharpshooter. In fact, you barely mentioned him at all.”
“What’s there to talk about? Oikawa is a narcissistic jerk who only ever cares about his own selfish interests,” Kageyama growls, looking Kei in the eye. “You have no idea what he was like to live with.”
Kei snickers. “You were with Seijoh for six months, but you walk around like they dealt you a lifetime of trauma.”
“Ugh!” Kageyama storms off without another word, pushing past Tendou and heading straight for the supply room to get more clips.
“Oika-chan has always had a knack for getting under people’s skin, but I never knew Tobio-kun carried so much hostility.” Tendou rubs his chin curiously. “He seems like he needs therapy—but Waka-chan doesn’t believe alphas should go to therapy, so no dice! He’ll just have to hack it!”
“Why is Don Ushijima so conservative? I didn’t think any strays cared for the old ways. It’s more of a thing passed down through kin from what I’ve seen.” His family tried to uphold some conservative values back when they were in Middle Tokyo (with his father handling the finances and their mother running the household), but that was long before either he or his brother Presented.
Tendou blinks and cocks his head to the side. “What are you saying? Waka-chan wasn’t a stray, he was the only child of Don Ushijima—the previous Don of South Side.”
That makes a lot more sense. “Did the previous Don die, did he?”
“Yeah, she did,” Tendou corrects slyly.
His eyebrows shoot up. “His mother was the previous Don?”
“Correct. She also held the title for being a world-class bitch.”
Must run in the family then. “Speaking of mothers, I’ve been meaning to ask you …”
“Hm?” The redhead tilts his head expectantly. “This about your dear old mother in Middle Tokyo? Strange how you keep mentioning her. What’s a boy with a mummy running around with a pack in Lower Tokyo, anyway?”
He shrugs. “It’s a long story.”
Tendou leans against the partition, fluttering his eyelashes. “I’m a good listener, y’know.”
“I want a pass to Middle Tokyo so I can visit her.”
Red eyes roll to the ceiling as the alpha quirks his lips downwards. “What’d I say to you before? You’re royalty now. Why spend your time in a place with a person you ran away from, hm? You want a mummy, Suga-chan is a decent replacement—the way he spoils you lot it’s like he birthed you himself.”
“It’s not that I’m lacking in maternal affection. My pack raised me, and my pack is my family—that’s not the reason I want to keep in contact with her. She’s pregnant, I mean—she might not be now, she never told me the due date—but we’re working on our relationship, and things were going well before we were uprooted. At the very least I’d like to meet my half-sister. Even if it’s just once. I also owe my mother an explanation. I can’t accept dropping all contact with her without warning.”
“Hm, ‘tis a bit of a dilemma, isn’t it?” Tendou taps his knuckle. “Tell ya what—I’ll give you a day pass to go see her, but you can’t tell her the whole truth, for obvious reasons. As a member of Shiratorizawa, you now know a bunch of stuff I’d usually kill someone over, yeah?”
Tsukishima nods. “That goes without saying.”
“Good, but in return, you’ll owe me a favour.”
“Fine.” He frowns. “But only if it’s within reason.”
Tendou’s lips pull back in a Cheshire grin. “Of course.”
*
Koushi readjusts his bowtie as he sits down at the dining table.
“The Don will join you shortly,” Taichi tells him. “He’s finishing a phone call with a client.”
He nods, watching the alpha pour him a glass of red. The moment the bottle tilts away, he snatches the wine glass and takes a large sip of it.
It’s been a week since he started at Sunshine Early Learning, and no one was as shocked as Koushi when The Don asked to dine with him on Friday night. As a matter of fact, he wasn’t certain Don Ushijima would ever ask for his company, since the man makes a point of concerning himself only with the affairs of Shiratorizawa. Their recent dispute with Tendou over training their youngest alphas to shoot guns was volleyed to Ushijima, and to no one’s surprise he sided with Tendou.
Since then, Koushi has made a point of ignoring Shiratorizawa. It’s impossible to shun them entirely when they’re living under the same roof, but that didn’t stop him from trying. As you could imagine, the invitation for tonight’s dinner came out of left field, and as much as he wanted to, there was no denying a request from The Don himself.
The sound of multiple footsteps approach, and Koushi rises.
A strikingly masculine man enters, flanked by two men in black suits. Rumours about Don Ushijima Wakatoshi were well-known throughout the packs of the South Side, but Koushi doesn’t recall any of them mentioning how handsome he is. Flustered, he hastens into a bow, almost knocking his cutlery off the table.
“It’s an honour to finally meet you, Don Ushijima.”
“Likewise. You may sit,” a deep voice answers, and Koushi falls boneless into his seat.
He shakes off his initial shock and reminds himself that this man is the cause of all their problems. He’s the one who’s been taking twenty percent of their household income since Karasuno’s inception, he’s the one who condemned Daichi to a life of poverty for refusing to join him, he’s the one who uprooted their lives and brought them to this ugly place.
“I’m surprised.”
Koushi looks up from his lap to see Ushijima sitting in the chair at the head of the table. He’s so close that if Koushi wanted to, he could reach over and stab Ushijima in the hand. “Huh?”
“You’re as beautiful as they say.”
He blanches.
“Of course, I already knew what you looked like from your files and the surveillance in the apartment. You’re much prettier in person.”
“Thank you?” His face goes red, then he fully processes what Ushijima just said. “Wait—there are cameras in the apartment?”
Ushijima holds up his glass as Taichi pours wine into it, utterly aloof. “Just in the main areas. It’s my business to know what my pack gets up to, isn’t it?”
“I suppose.”
To Koushi, the cameras are only evidence that there’s a lack of trust between the leader and his pack, and he wonders if the cameras were a new addition along with Karasuno, or if they were installed early on in the pack’s creation.
“Your value grade was 91.”
It’s been a week since his Examination. It was quick, all things considered. The results were released a few days later, with a certificate in the mail and a soft copy sent to Goshiki.
He clears his throat, predicting his results would be brought up at some point. “Are you pleased?”
The Don nods. “A highly valued yellow pin is regarded on the same level as a low valued white pin.”
Koushi smiles wryly. “So I’m as good as an unattractive virgin, am I?”
Ushijima is unperturbed by his blatant sarcasm. “If you wish to see it that way.”
They aren’t left in silence for too long before Taichi serves the entrée. It’s some seafood dish that Koushi doesn’t know the name of and doesn’t care to ask.
“Are you enjoying your new job so far?”
Koushi’s down to his second glass of wine, and he’s running on an empty stomach. “My co-workers are under the impression that I moved here recently from one of the islands, and that I’m the son of an executive.”
“You’re more than welcome to tell them you’re a new member of Shiratorizawa, if that’s what you wish. But I can’t guarantee that the news will go over well with your colleagues,” he states matter-of-factly. “Gossip goes a long way in Upper Tokyo. Knowledge of your upbringing in Lower Tokyo will make you an outcast, but if it’s any consolidation, you won’t lose your job over it.”
“I don’t see the harm in lying. My personal life is my own business.”
Ushijima nods. “You’re an omega of reason too. That’s not so easy to come by.”
“I find most omegas to be reasonable, if you take the time to understand them.” Koushi sips his wine.
A shadow of a smile passes across The Don’s face. “Though you are assertive of your opinions. Daichi was too soft with you.”
“Have you ever been in love, Don Ushijima?” he asks gently.
“No.”
“Do you ever wish to be?”
“It isn’t among my priorities.”
Resting his elbows on the table and lacing his fingers together, Koushi says: “I thought so.”
“Why do you ask?”
“You speak of omegas as if you do not understand them, and do not wish to understand them. I find most alphas are like that before they fall in love. Then things change. We’re more susceptible to understanding when we’re at our most vulnerable, when our hearts are in another’s hands.”
Picking up a piece of seafood with his chopsticks, Ushijima rests his cheek in the palm of his hand. “That’s rather poetic. Do you like poetry, Sugawara?”
“Not really. I’ve only read the classics.”
“A monk by the name of Fujihara once said: ‘Love is the antithesis of enlightenment.’ Some take this to mean that love is the one thing standing between humanity and cosmic understanding.”
Sugawara hums. “Cosmic understanding? That’s a bit of a vague concept, don’t you think? Say what you will about love, but it is real, and it exists within all of us. Even you.”
“And you? Have you ever been in love, Sugawara?”
His face falls, and he swirls the wine left in his glass. “Yes, I have.”
“Is that person Sawamura?”
“Yes, it is.”
“The both of you make a handsome pair, but perhaps Sawamura doesn’t feel the same?”
Koushi regards The Don coolly, leaning back in his seat. He knows he’s goading him. “And what gives you that impression?”
There isn’t a wrinkle of amusement to be found on Ushijima’s face. Just cold, unfiltered honesty. “If he loved you, why didn’t he mark you?”
“Because I didn’t want him to.”
“Why?”
“I suppose the answer isn’t obvious to you, being an alpha and all.” Koushi sighs. “I’ll politely remind you that I didn’t mark Daichi either. The decision was made out of mutual respect for each other.”
“If Sawamura cared for your safety, he would’ve marked you regardless of how you felt. To protect you.”
He gets the sense that regardless of how compelling he makes his case, Ushijima will never truly understand why he and Daichi didn’t mark one another while they had the chance.
“I would’ve allowed the both of you to remain together if he’d marked you. I have enough sense to respect another alpha’s property.”
“I know,” he answers calmly.
“Do you resent me for forcing the two of you apart?”
Koushi has to think about that for a moment. There’s only a handful of people that he can point to and say he resents, but Ushijima isn’t one of them.
“No, I’m upset with you, but I don’t resent you.”
“You seem to have a level control over your own emotions. At least, when you’re not making my packmates’ jobs harder for them.” Ushijima’s eyes swim with mild amusement.
“Only because they make my life harder.”
“Only because I tell them to.”
Koushi snorts.
After dinner, Taichi brings them a light dessert of fruits and yoghurt, and it’s then Koushi asks the question that has been plaguing him for some time: “What is your intention with me and Shouyou?”
Ushijima pats his mouth with his napkin and leans back in his seat. “Indulge me. What do you think my intentions are with the both of you?”
Koushi wets his lips. “You’re going to use Shouyou as a bargaining chip.”
“An easy conclusion to make. White pins are highly valued in the rogue syndicate.”
“You’re also going to extreme lengths to bump up his value grade. That wouldn’t have mattered if you intended to mate with him.” The very suggestion has bile collecting at the back of his throat. Shouyou is underage and half this man’s size.
“Again, an easy conclusion.”
“What I can’t understand is why you’re rushing things.” He frowns. “Shouyou will be just as valuable at eighteen as he is at sixteen, but from the way you’ve booked his surgeries it’s like you’re preparing to trade him at a moment’s notice.”
“Perceptive,” is all Ushijima says, but makes no move to elaborate on the matter. “And what do you think my intentions are for you?”
His shoulders sag. “I don’t know yet,” he confesses. “I’m no use to trade. There are plenty of rogue yellow pins far prettier than me. The best I can do is aid you during your ruts.”
“There are other uses for you.”
A coldness settles in his bones, and slowly, Koushi rises and bows. “May I be excused?”
“So soon?” Ushijima drawls, a hint of amusement in his tone, like a chess master taking his opponent’s queen.
“I wouldn’t want to take up any more of your precious time.”
“No, I suppose not. You may be excused. Taichi will escort you back.”
“Thank you.”
“It was nice,” Ushijima says over his shoulder just as Koushi passes the archway. “I look forward to the next time we dine together.”
“Yes.” But there’s no enthusiasm in his voice.
He doesn’t even look at Tendou or Semi as he drifts up the stairs to the omega wing.
“He looks like he’s seen a ghost!” he hears Tendou whisper loudly, just as he’s disappearing into the hallway.
The lights are off, but the rays peeking out from beneath Goshiki’s and Shirabu’s bedrooms are enough for him to properly see. As his hand reaches for the doorknob, it moves on its own, and in the dark he sees Kageyama’s tall silhouette staring back at him, equally surprised.
“Sugawara—uh, I was just checking on Hinata,” he whispers quickly. “Sorry, I’ll just—”
Fisting the front of his pyjama shirt, he pulls the alpha into a hug. The younger boy is left stunned, his arms hanging limply at his sides. Koushi doesn’t let go, nuzzling against his scent mark and holding him in a way he hasn’t done in a long time.
“I’m sorry, Kageyama,” he whispers.
“S-Sorry? For what?” The boy finally has the sense to place his hand on the omega’s back, but is emotionally incapable of doing much else.
“For doubting you.”
The alpha inhales sharply. “Oh. That.”
Koushi pulls back, cupping the boy’s face. “Sometimes I get so wrapped up in protecting Shouyou that I forget that I’m supposed to be protecting you as well.”
The tension gradually falls away from Kageyama’s rigid frame, and he deflates until his forehead rests on Koushi’s shoulder. He buries his hand in the alpha’s hair and rubs circles between his shoulder blades. A deep, happy purr vibrates from Kageyama’s chest. The poor boy is as emotionally drained as the rest of them, and it’s barely been two weeks since they moved here.
Though the stress hadn’t begun with Shiratorizawa.
They stand in the hallway hugging for a while. The apartment is quiet, with only the occasional shuffle heard from behind the doors of bedrooms. A page turned here, a keyboard tapped there. At the very end of the hallway is a window, the lights of San Tokyo a luminous presence in the distance.
“I should go study,” Kageyama says, reluctantly stepping out of Koushi’s arms, but still within his reach.
Koushi gets up on his tippy toes and kisses the boy on the forehead. “If you ever have something on your mind, I’ll always be here to listen.”
The outline of a smile twitches on Kageyama’s face before he vanishes down the stairs.
Inside, Shouyou is sound asleep. He sits on the edge of the bed and cards his fingers through Shouyou’s apricot tassels, looking down at his bruised but peaceful features. It takes some effort to beat back the sadness that threatens to climb its way to the surface, knowing he’s the one they’re all relying on to stay strong.
*
“You know, you’ve been kinda quiet lately,” Tadashi tells Tsukki during lunch.
Most of the kids hang out in the conservatory, the cafeteria or in the hallways during recess and lunchbreak, but the two of them sit at their desks and eat lunch. Their bento boxes are prepared by the chef. They’re delicious, but it’s not the same as when Sugawara used to make them. They don’t even get little notes anymore.
Tsukki quirks an eyebrow at him.
Tadashi rolls his eyes. “I mean, quieter than usual.”
The blonde shrugs.
He lets out a sigh of frustration. If Tsukki had a problem, he’d be more likely to fling himself from a cliff than actually approach him and ask for advice. Even if he grilled him all day for details, the best he could hope for is a vague idea at best, and nothing at the very worst.
“I’ll be back. Gotta go to the bathroom.”
As he’s leaving, he walks straight into somebody. A flash of honey-coloured hair and a loud squeal has Tadashi tripping over a strong wave of déjà vu. This time, he doesn’t have the dexterity to react fast enough to catch the girl, and she topples over onto her bottom, a spray of posters flying into the air and raining down on the both of them.
“Oh god.” He falls to his knees in front of her, waving his hands frantically. “Are you hurt?”
The girl blinks at him, and then she immediately hyperventilates. “This is the second time I’ve been in your way! I’m so, so sorry, I don’t know how I could be so clumsy, I’m usually not this bad I just—I can’t—wahhhhh!”
“It was all my fault, no need to worry! I wasn’t watching where I was going! I’m sorry!”
“No, I’m sorry!”
“No, I’m sorry!”
“Oh my god, shut up,” Tsukki yells from inside the classroom.
He helps the girl gather up the posters, and he notices that they’re advertisements for the school’s basketball team. “Oh, are you a manager for the basketball club?”
“Huh? Oh—yeah! The manager-in-training anyway.”
“Did you make these posters? They’re really cool.”
“Y-You think? Th-Thank you!” She hastily gets to her feet, clutching the posters to her chest, and bows.
Tadashi chuckles, rising to his feet too, only to notice just how much shorter the girl is compared to him. “I play basketball too. Or well—” he grimaces at his arm brace “—used to before my injury. I’ll try out for the team once I get this old thing off.”
“Oh no! What happened?” she gasps, grazing her fingers across his brace. Butterflies burst in his stomach.
“It happened while I was playing basketball, actually,” he explains sheepishly.
“When it heals you should definitely try out!” she encourages earnestly.
He shrugs. “Maybe, but compared to some I’m a little on the shorter side.”
“No way! You’re definitely tall enough!”
He doesn’t have the heart to tell her that she’s tiny and probably lacks perspective on the topic of height.
“Oh—uh, I forgot to ask, what’s your name? You’re in first year like me, right?”
The girl beams. “Yachi Hitoka, Class 3. And you?”
“Yamaguchi Tadashi, class—er, well—” he points to the sign above the door “—Class 6.”
“Nice to meet you!”
The sparkle in her eyes has him blushing. “N-Nice to meet you too!”
“Would you like to help put these posters up around campus with me?”
All thoughts of going to the bathroom are forgotten, and he eagerly nods his head. “Yeah! Of course!”
*
“How’s the wrist?”
“Eh, it’s alright. It’s a pain trying to write with my left hand though.”
Kenma recognises the voices without looking up from his console. It’s the betas that sit a few desks ahead of him. The teacher usually keeps them at opposite ends of the classroom so she doesn’t have to stop to tell them off every five minutes, but on breaks the bald one slinks over to sit on the short beta’s desk.
Strange how they showed up out of nowhere in mid-September. It wasn’t just the betas in his class either, but a whole group of them—two alphas and one beta in first year, two betas in second year, and one alpha in third year. They’re all students talk about in class or in the hallways. Mostly because there’s very little information about them. They don’t have famous surnames. They’re not celebrities or athletes. Who are they, and how did they manage to get into the most prestigious school in the country?
Few have found answers. After the first week it became apparent to everyone that they mostly keep to themselves.
But that didn’t stop theories from circulating.
Kenma could dish up a few of his own, if he cared to. As it so happens—he doesn’t.
“Can’t believe you did that to Semi. The look on his face!” Kenma’s eyes flicker up for a moment.
The sun reflecting off the windows of Eastern Heights shines straight into their classroom, casting harsh shadows on the desks and chairs, and making it hard for him to see the screen of his console.
“I know! It was almost worth the broken wrist!” The bald one—Ryuunosuke he thinks his name is—throws his head back and laughs.
“That redheaded freak can be real scary when he wants to be, ey? Wouldn’t wanna challenge him to a fight,” the shorter one (Nishi—something) snorts.
Ryuunosuke sighs and leans his weight against his friend’s desk. “My only regret is that I didn’t beat that pretty boy alpha within an inch of his life. Least then I could call it even for what he did to poor Shouyou.”
Kenma loses focus on his game altogether, staring at the betas.
Shouyou? The memory of a boy with a big, sunny smile and a head of wild orange curls flashes across his eyes.
He shakes his head. No, they couldn’t be talking about the same boy.
“Sugawara said he’s healing quickly.”
He’s heard that name too.
Tetsurou had lost all contact with Daichi and the rest of Karasuno sometime in August. For rogues, silence can only mean something terrible. He’d snuck over to South Side, only to find Hokon Dojo’s sign replaced by a café that had ‘Coming Soon!’ slapped across the banner. Across the road, Karasuno’s apartment had been boarded up with plywood.
“They could’ve run away,” Kenma suggested when his leader returned home upset. “It would explain why Daichi isn’t answering your texts. He probably disposed of his phone to make sure he wasn’t being tracked.”
“No, no—he would’ve gotten a message to me somehow.” Tetsurou ran his fingers through his hair and leaned over the kitchen counter. “We had a pact. If something bad happened to either of us, we’d make contact one way or another. And if they were in a situation where they had to run away, why not come to West Side? Under my protection they would be untouchable.”
“Maybe he didn’t want to get you involved.”
“Huh?” Tetsurou looked up. “Why wouldn’t he?”
Kenma shrugged. “To protect you.”
“Pfft! Like I need protecting!”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re one of the most important rogues in the city, and leader to a powerful pack. It isn’t that big of a stretch.”
“Daichi knows me better than that.” Then he stared at the ceiling, emotion draining from his features until there’s nothing left but cold indifference. “They could be dead.”
Putting aside his phone, he stared at his friend from across the kitchen island. “Is that what you think? That they’re dead?”
“Shiratorizawa could’ve hunted them down for one reason or another, killed them off and seized their estate.”
“Karasuno would sooner be killed by a lesser pack than Shiratorizawa. They wouldn’t bother with a third-tier pack in the slums of their territory anymore than a cat might care for a fly on its back.”
Tetsurou scowled. “If it was Johzenji, I’ll be very disappointed in Daichi.”
“I don’t think they’re dead,” Kenma said truthfully. “They’ll show back up eventually.”
His leader quirked an eyebrow at him. “What gives ya that impression?”
He thought of orange curls and big brown eyes, and cracked a small smile. “Just a hunch.”
“Oi, what’re you starin’ at?” Ryuunosuke leers over at him. The shorter beta also turns to look at him, and there’s a dangerous glint in their eyes you could only ever see in one place in San Tokyo.
Kenma flinches, looking back down at his console.
Over the next two months, Kenma listens in on the conversations between the thuggish betas. Sometimes the alpha from third year joins them, usually at lunch, and here and there he picks up on clues as to who these people are and where they come from.
So far, he’s concluded that: the boys are a part of a pack, they grew up in Lower Tokyo, and they’re somehow affiliated with Shiratorizawa in some way.
Then one day the betas don’t eat lunch at their desks.
“Let’s go see Shouyou!” the shorter one—Yuu—drags Ryuunosuke towards the door. “I want to know how his first day at school is going!”
The moment the boys disappear out of sight, Kenma shoves his console into his desk and gets up to follow. He’s able to blend in easily with the traffic of students milling the hallway, allowing him to go undetected. They walk south towards where the first-year classrooms are.
He sees them peering through windows, looking for someone, until Yuu makes an excited noise and throws open one of the classroom doors.
Kenma keeps close to the wall as he inches towards the commotion bleeding out into the hallway—mostly made by the rumbunctious betas—and then he hears a laugh. His heart stutters, his palms sweaty, as he takes a peek into the classroom. His eyes settle on a small boy sitting at his desk, surrounded by his—friends? Pack?—with his nose scrunched up in happiness. Ryuunosuke ruffles his head of apricot locks.
“My name’s Hinata Shouyou!”
“Kozume Kenma.”
“Nice to meet you!”
He takes a step back in shock.
“The new omega in Class 4 is super cute!” an alpha girl giggles to her friend, who’s also an alpha, as they peer into the classroom windows.
Her friend rolls her eyes. “Don’t even bother. You saw his chocker, didn’t you? He’s one of The Don’s omegas.”
“A white pin too! He must be worth a fortune. What’s his value grade?”
“Apparently he hasn’t been examined yet. He’s still recovering from surgery.”
Kenma turns and walks back to class. Tora is waiting for him at his desk.
“Oi, oi! Where’ve you been? The bathroom?”
He sits at his desk, the mark on his neck prickling warmly. Reaching into his bag, he gets out his phone and shoots Tetsurou a quick message.
“What’s up? Was someone mean to you?”
Tora crosses his arms over his chest, eyebrows pinching with concern.
Kenma shakes his head. “I just discovered something interesting.”
The moment he walks through the door to their pack’s apartment, he approaches Tetsurou, who’s watching something intently on TV.
“Karasuno are alive,” is the first thing out of his mouth.
“I know,” Tetsurou says without looking at him.
Kenma blinks. Tetsurou points at the TV, and he sees an announcement for the line-up in the upcoming karate winter tournament. He has to squint to look at the names. Eventually he spots a name that he knows well.
“Sawamura Daichi,” Kenma murmurs.
Tetsurou nods grimly. “Representing Shiratorizawa.”
His stomach sinks. So what those alphas were saying in the hallway … “Hinata Shouyou is a white pin. He just started at Kintsuru today.”
“Ah, your little friend.” Tetsurou doesn’t even hide his smirk. “Wonder why he started so late? It’s halfway through November.”
“I’ve heard he’s had surgery.”
“Plastic surgery no doubt.”
Kenma frowns. He couldn’t imagine why Hinata would need plastic surgery. “If that’s true, then that means …”
Tetsurou nods, his face turning serious again. “I’ll have to get in contact with Daichi somehow. They probably took his old phone away from him.”
“Write down your number and I’ll hand it over to Shouyou.”
The man’s catlike eyes slide to stare at him. “Be careful. We can trust Karasuno, but we can’t trust Shiratorizawa.”
Kenma walks towards his bedroom. “I know. I can handle it.”
Notes:
GUYSSS I've read all your lovely comments and I'll reply to them all tomorrow!! I'm just kind of tired tonight (or this morning ... depending on where you are hehe). BUT I LOVE YOU ALL!!!!
Chapter 16: The Heat of the Moment
Notes:
TW-ish: idk man Ushijima has some twisted views about omegas and their bodies y'all need to be ready. (no graphic scenes though dw, just conversation)
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
The alphas in the front rows have no concept of indoor voices, and the betas in the middle are goading them into a playful argument by appealing to their fragile egos. In the back, the omegas are either napping, doodling or pretending they’re somewhere else.
Tsutomu stands at the very front of the class, this week’s agenda scrunched in his tight grip.
“Excuse me! Can I please get your attention!”
They ignore him. It’s the same routine every goddamn week.
Tsutomu feels hot under the collar of his shirt. Their teacher rolls her eyes, unimpressed with his ineptitude. She stands up, slamming her hands on her desk.
“Oi! It’s Monday morning! You know what that means! Shut up and listen to your class president!”
A normal teacher would be sweating bullets at the very prospect of swearing at children whose parents have the entire of San Tokyo at their mercy. As it so happens, Ms Okino was recently granted tenure. The students, to their credit, do quieten and turn to the front. With the whole scrutiny of Class 1 on him, Tsutomu swallows and turns his attention to his piece of paper.
“Changes have been made to the cafeteria menu. Curry rice will only be served on Wednesdays, Thursdays and Fridays; while udon will be available Mondays and Tuesdays.”
Someone coughs, but otherwise the class continue to listen absently.
“Winter tournaments have begun for our sports clubs. Kintsuru’s ice hockey team will be having their first match on the 19th. Tickets will be available on the school website. In the coming weeks, first-year classes will be preparing for the winter festi—”
One of the alphas groans. Tsutomu looks up from his paper, glaring at the obnoxious boy sitting to the far right in the front row. His name is Naozumi; he’s one of the biggest douches to ever attend Kintsuru.
“Oh, I’m sorry, did I interrupt? My bad. Please continue to put us to sleep with your dumb goody-two-shoes voice.”
He gapes. Wait, what’s wrong with his voice?
“He can’t be that goody-two-shoes,” Reiji butts in from the second row. “He didn’t get that black pin sucking lollipops.”
“Reiji! Naozumi! One more word outta you two and I’m sending your asses to the principal, got it?” Ms Okino scolds harshly. “Ignore them, Tsutomu. Go ahead and finish this week’s rundown so we can start class.”
Gulping, he speeds through the rest of the news on the list and then hands the piece of paper to Ms Okino. He refuses to meet anyone’s eye as he hurries back to his desk, his stomach churning under the leers the alphas send his way.
Scoring the role of class president was one of Tsutomu’s proudest moments. It’s not easy convincing a first-year class to vote for you, even if most of the students carried on from Kintsuru Middle School. It also isn’t common for omegas to campaign for leadership positions in any capacity, let alone in high school where everyone is a professional critic.
But Tsutomu worked hard. There were nights he stayed up slaving over his speech and creating personal cards for each member of the class—yes, even the ones he hated—and in the end it was all worth it.
Well so he thought.
Turns out, being the class president isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, especially if you’re an omega.
Rule number one of being an omega: any attention is bad attention.
His alpha classmates never pass up an opportunity to undermine his authority, the betas rarely give a shit about anything he has to say, and the omegas treat him like he’s a pariah. But it didn’t come as a shock to him. He went to middle school with most of these people, and none of them wanted to be his friend, even then.
Word got around quickly when he and Kenjirou joined Shiratorizawa. They were the centre of gossip at school from the moment they walked through the elevators, wide-eyed and new to the alien world of Upper Tokyo. Back then he was young and naïve. In his head he thought this new life would be like starting over, the horrors of his past laid to rest. But it’s not quite that simple when you’re affiliated with one of the most notorious rogue packs in the nation.
The black pins and the scars didn’t help either. They may as well have ‘Former Whores’ written across their foreheads.
No one dared touch them. Kids are idiots, but the fear of getting their hands chopped off always stopped them from taking their bullying to a physical level. They were alienated, for the most part, with only themselves for company. That last year of middle school, when Kenjirou had graduated and was attending first-year high school on a different floor, was one of the loneliness times in Tsutomu’s life. And he knows a thing or two about loneliness—he was a stray after all.
After calligraphy club, he meets up with Taichi (who finishes baseball club around the same time), and together they make their way back home. As the elevator takes them up, Tsutomu pulls out his tablet and starts sifting through emails and reminders.
An email from the San Tokyo OVEA (Omega Value Exam Association) gives him pause.
Not that he wasn’t expecting it. Of he was. Having an astounding memory is part of his job.
It’s the temptation that has him hesitating.
Hinata Shouyou’s examination had been days ago, meaning a physical and soft copy were going to be sent out at some point. This is something Shiratorizawa have been eagerly anticipating for a while now. The unexpected delays caused by Hinata’s jaw reduction surgery had left them in such suspense that Tendou sent Hinata to school early just to get him out of his sight.
And now, the moment of truth has come.
He promised he wouldn’t look at the results. Not until Tendou saw them first.
But surely it wouldn’t be all that bad if he took just a little peek …?
“What’re you looking at?” Taichi asks.
Tsutomu smacks the tablet against his chest, hiding the screen from the beta. “Nothing! Nothing … just! Emails and stuff!”
Taichi’s not an idiot. He knows Tsutomu is hiding something, but he’s also too tired to bring himself to care. So he shrugs, and goes back to reading the book he has decorated in coloured tabs.
Tsutomu doesn’t look at his tablet again until they’re in Southern Heights.
Just a glance? It couldn’t hurt?
Even if Tendou does figure out that he looked first, what’s the worst he’d do? Scold him?
As they shuffle into the second elevator, Tsutomu steels his resolve. He backs up against the wall, makes sure Taichi is distracted, and then opens the PDF link in the email.
And then he immediately regrets it, because he’s overwhelmed by the urge to scream and smash his tablet against the gold railing. Instead, he very calmly closes the screen and puts the tablet back in his school bag, and watches the elevator numbers climb.
Tendou is having a chat with Oohira in the living room when Tsutomu finds him.
“Welcome home, Tsu-chan! You’ll tell me all about your day at dinner, won’t you? We’re just about to head out. There’s been an emergency with a novice pack that’s in need of a … hmm helping hand.” Tendou grins, patting Tsutomu on the head.
“U-Uhm!” He straightens, biting the inside of his cheek. A petty part of him wants to pretend he never got the email from OVEA, but he’s also not interested in dying young. “I’ve just received Hinata’s results.”
“Aw yoyo!” Tendou scratches his head. “What shitty timing! Ah—just give me a quick peek now, I can’t possibly wait until tonight!”
He reluctantly hands the tablet over and pretends he isn’t seething on the inside.
Tendou’s eyes go wide. “A 97! That’s way more than what I predicted! Fuck. I owe Semi 50,000 yen! Anyway, this’ll make Waka-chan a very happy chappy. Might even bring a smile to his stone-cold face.”
The thought of this pleasing Ushijima has Tsutomu’s blood boiling. “Well, Dr Esaki did predict Hinata would be high 90s if we fulfilled all the tasks on the list. Don Ushijima won’t be that surprised.”
Tendou snickers. “Careful there! Your jealousy is showing, little Tsu-chan! Anyway, I’ll give Waka-chan a call to tell him the good news on our way down to Hell. Knowing him he’ll want to dine with shrimpy tonight, you know, get to know him now that he’s all verified and special. See ya later! Don’t slack on your homework!”
Tendou and Oohira brush past him, leaving Tsutomu alone in the living room. He places the tablet on a table so that he doesn’t snap it in half. Then he locks himself in his room and screams into a pillow for half an hour.
That’s how Kenjirou finds him: red-faced and sobbing, his hair a mess and his uniform aggressively creased. The older omega sighs and closes the door behind him. He relaxes into Tsutomu’s desk chair and crosses his arms over his chest, pinning the raven-haired boy with a judgemental leer.
“What’s this about then?”
“Y-You could stand to be—to be a little more sensitive!” he whines, wiping the snot from his upper lip.
The brunette rolls his eyes. “If you expect me to be all tender and loving like Karasuno’s omega, then prepare for disappointment. I’m here to listen. Isn’t that enough?”
“I-I hate you!”
“I can live with that. Now tell me what’s wrong.”
“No! You’ll just make fun of me!”
Lacing his fingers over his stomach, Kenjirou kicks his feet up on the end of Tsutomu’s bed. “I won’t make fun of you. I might tell you you’re an idiot, but nothing you haven’t already heard before.”
Rolling onto his back, Tsutomu stares at the ceiling, tears falling steadily down the sides of his face. “It’s that little ginger bitch! His grade came in today—you’ll never guess what he got! A 97! Fuck me. I’ve never known a white pin to get anything over 95, and then this practical joke of an omega comes along and sweeps his examination and he didn’t even try.”
“Didn’t even try? Where’ve you been these past few months?”
“Shut up!” Sitting up, he throws a weak glare at his packmate. “He didn’t care for any of it—didn’t even want it. He fought against Semi at every turn. He doesn’t deserve that grade!”
Kenjirou has a look on his face like he’s dealing with a petulant child, and frankly, it’s offensive. “Why is his value grade any of your concern? The fact that he’s in our pack makes all of us look good, you know that right?”
“Who cares if he makes us look good?” he yells, pulling at his hair. “We worked so hard to get to where we are now, we did everything to try and be worthy enough for Don Ushijima!”
And then Karasuno just had to get a white pin. They had to keep it a secret. They had to go behind their Don’s back and convene in secret with Seijoh—a pack Ushijima absolutely loathes. And then Tendou found out and told Ushijima everything, and the move to punish both Seijoh and Karasuno, to snatch the white pin for himself—they couldn’t have made it more tempting if they tried!
It doesn’t help that he’s beautiful. With hair the colour of mandarins and big doe eyes that’d make any alpha melt. A tiny button nose, a big smile, a little face and a little body—and he can picture it so clearly in his head: Hinata in Ushijima’s arms. His stomach flips in disgust. God, even before the surgery he was gorgeous, and now he’s so far beyond reach that he just—it’s not fair! It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair!
Snapping to his feet, he yanks open the drawer in his nightstand and snatches up his pocket knife.
Kenjirou watches, confused, as Tsutomu tears open his door and stomps down the hallway towards Sugawara’s room.
Both the Karasuno omegas are at the desk, Hinata filling out equations while Sugawara tutors him over his shoulder. It doesn’t matter to him that the silver-haired omega is there. He may as well have been part of the wallpaper, because his eyes see orange and nothing else. Marching up to the spit of a creature, his anger only builds when Hinata turns to regard him, looking up with those eyes—those stupid, naïve eyes. He has no right—no right to look that innocent. Not if he grew up in Lower Tokyo like the rest of them!
Grabbing him by the arm, he yanks him out of the chair and slams him against the wall, the edge of the blade an inch from the boy’s tiny neck.
“You fucking little shit,” he spits. “Why did you have to come along and ruin everything I’ve worked for? Huh? Do you have any idea how many years I’ve spent trying to make myself the perfect omega for Don Ushijima?”
“Shouyou!” Sugawara yells. Goshiki can’t see, but the omega must’ve tried to interfere, because Hinata’s holding his hand up to stop him.
“Stay where you are,” Hinata tells Sugawara. “I’ve got this under control.”
He presses the boy harder into the wall. “No, you don’t. I’m the one with the knife. I’m in the one in control! And I’m gonna carve a pretty scar into your face and then you won’t be good enough for my leader anymore!”
A sudden pain explodes in his forehead and he stumbles back. The shock makes him drop the knife, and with lightning speed, the ginger snatches the knife mid-air and tackles Tsutomu to the floor. Did he just headbutt me? The impact forces the air from his lungs, and he isn’t given time to recover before Hinata is straddling him, the knife now against his throat. He tries to buck him off, but the cold steel bites his skin, and he stills, seeing for the first time the deadly calmness in the boy’s gaze.
“Don’t resist. You’re outmatched.”
It hits him then that Hinata’s is right. He is outmatched. Because while Hinata is tiny and cute, he’s also a student of Sawamura Daichi: The Young Grandmaster.
At this point what little dignity he has left is out the window and he can’t make himself any more of a fool than he already is, so he lies there and unleashes embarrassingly angry sobs. He cries until he feels a migraine throb at the back of his skull, until the muscles in his cheeks and his neck hurt. He wants to simultaneously disappear and be heard, to be ignored and to be seen.
“What’s wrong with him?” he hears Sugawara ask.
“He’s just being an idiot,” Kenjirou answers.
He’s so wrapped up in his own misery that he doesn’t notice Hinata fold the knife and toss it across the room. By the time he’s done wailing, Hinata is still there, sitting on his torso, looking at him with so much pity he wants to slap him.
“Why’d you attack me?” Hinata asks once Tsutomu has calmed down.
“Your grade was released,” he says hoarsely. “Congrats. You’re perfect. You and Ushijima can go be disgusting together now.”
The ginger frowns. “What are you talking about?”
“You’re the perfect white pin and everything Ushijima could possibly want in a mate. So have fun or whatever—have his babies. Like I care!”
“Oh my god, you actually are an idiot,” Kenjirou growls.
“Shut up!” he whines.
“Have his what?” Hinata blanches. “Are you insane? I haven’t even met The Don and you really think that’s what he wants from me?”
“Why wouldn’t he? He told me once that he’ll have children eventually—he just needs to find the right omega to carry his offspring. That’s what he said—and now you’re a part of our pack you’re—”
“I’m sixteen!” Hinata goes pink. “I’m not having anyone’s babies!”
“You think that matters?” Tsutomu scowls. “As far as Ushijima is concerned, any omega that’s Presented is ready to have kids!”
“Gross!”
“It’s not gross! It’s the natural order—”
“Tsutomu,” Kenjirou sighs, “Ushijima isn’t buttering Hinata up to mate with him. If you looked at things objectively instead of getting all emotional, maybe you would’ve figured out Ushijima’s goal from the moment he decided to invite Karasuno into our home.”
“What?” He sniffs, wiping his tears. “What do you mean?”
“He’s a white pin. If he was going to mate with Hinata, his value grade wouldn’t have mattered at all!”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Hinata nods his head. “Listen to Shirabu. He has much wisdom.”
“So you know what Ushijima wants from you?” Tsutomu asks Hinata.
The ginger blinks, tapping his chin. “Well no, actually, but I know he wouldn’t mate with me. That’s just silly.”
“W-Why?”
“I already told you! I’m too young!”
Tsutomu slaps his forehead. Does this kid have any idea who he’s talking about? Don Ushijima? One of the most dangerous men in the city? Crime boss? Murderer? Drug lord? Does this idiot seriously think a number is going to stop him from getting what he wants?
“Alright, whatever. Get off me. I’m already over it.” He tries to push the ginger off, but Hinata doesn’t move. “Do you mind?”
“I do mind, actually. I’m not moving until this is resolved.”
“This is resolved. Get off.”
“No!”
Tsutomu lies on the floor, his arms spread out, staring up at the overhead light. Taking a deep breath, he says with much bravery: “Will you get off if I apologise?”
“You said you were going to give me a scar.”
“Apologise a sincerely.”
“Why would you want to do that to me anyway? What’d I ever do to you?” Hinata pouts, and Tsutomu refuses to acknowledge that it’s cute.
You did a great many things to me, asshole. “You got a 97 on your value score. For a moment I got jealous and wanted to drag that number down by giving you a scar.”
He flinches at the gentle touch of fingers against his face. “You mean a scar like yours?” Hinata asks softly.
He swallows. “…Yeah.”
“I don’t see why you’re jealous.” The ginger pulls back, lips tugging into his signature, sunshine smile. “You’re really pretty, and that scar makes you look badass!”
He stares. He stares, and he stares, and he stares, until his vision starts to blur again with renewed tears. “No one’s ever said that to me before. Most people tell me my scar makes me look ugly.”
“I don’t think so.” Hinata shrugs. “Whoever says that is just jealous because they don’t look like a cool assassin with a dark and mysterious past. I could see you being like, an actor in action movies or—or the henchman of some mob boss!”
Tsutomu blinks. “But … I am the henchman of a mob boss?”
“Exactly!”
Part of him wants the floor to eat him up, another wants to soar through the clouds screaming into the wind. “So this is it then, is it? We’re friends now?”
Hinata cocks his head to the side. “We weren’t friends before?”
Tsutomu pauses, then throws his head back and laughs. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to hate Hinata with a burning passion. He was supposed to curse him out for even daring to encroach upon his role in the pack, but this stupid little shit with his stupid smiles and his stupid happy-go-lucky attitude—he can’t do it. He can’t hate Hinata, even though he gave it all he got.
In the end, the ginger came out on top.
“Goshiki?” He turns his head to see Sugawara and Kenjirou smiling down at them. “Shirabu tells me you’re very smart and hard-working. Why don’t you help Shouyou with his algebra homework? Math isn’t his strong suit.”
Hinata turns red and whines. “Sugawara!”
“Ne, Goshiki-chan?” Sugawara tilts his head with a pretty smile, and Tsutomu can’t help but blush.
“Kenjirou really said that?”
The brunette doesn’t meet his gaze. “It’s not like it’s a secret. You are smart and hard-working.”
Just when he thinks his heart couldn’t get any bigger, he sees Hinata’s eyes practically beaming with admiration. “Please teach me, Goshiki-sensei! I need all the help I can get.”
Stop! Stop being so cute!
“Alright! Fine! I’ll teach you!”
*
Goshiki sweeps the creases from Shouyou’s shirt and fixes his bowtie. It’s Shouyou’s first time in his room, and every minute or so he gets distracted by something else he’s noticed, like the cute clock on the wall that’s in the shape of a hedgehog, or the erasers he has lined up on a bookshelf that are all in the shapes of food.
Shirabu sits at the desk half-heartedly finishing off some homework, with music in one ear and the other listening in on the conversation. He throws in his two cents every now and then, especially if it’s at Goshiki’s expense. Sugawara sits on the bed folding laundry.
“Remember: when you address Don Ushijima, you must do an omega’s bow,” Goshiki tells him as he steps back to appraise Shouyou’s outfit.
“An ‘omega’s bow’?”
“It’s a simple saikeirei,” Sugawara hums cheerfully.
Goshiki bobs his head. “In Upper Tokyo there are different bows depending on who is being addressed. An alpha addressing an alpha will do eshaku, a beta to an alpha must do keirei, and an omega to an alpha must do saikeirei. It’s a bit formal, but The Don is all about it.”
Shouyou whines. “So many rules. This place sucks!”
Biting his knuckle, the raven-haired omega moves to adjust Shouyou’s barrette. “It has its ups and downs. You’ll get used to it.” He tucks the white pin so that it’s barely peeking out from beneath the barrette and then he finally looks satisfied enough to stop fussing. “There. Now you look like an adorable elementary school boy.”
“Yes, make him as unsexy as possible so Ushijima won’t want to mate with him,” Shirabu says teasingly.
Goshiki goes red. “O-Oi! That’s not what I was trying to do!”
“I’ve seen toddlers lie better than you.”
“Ugh! Do you mind?” he huffs, turning back to Shouyou, who’s clutching his stomach and looking up at him queasily. Goshiki smiles reassuringly. “Just be respectful, only speak when spoken to, and do exactly what he says and you’ll be fine! Semi and Tendou will be there too, so it’s not like you’ll be in the spotlight the whole time.”
“An arrangement you insist wasn’t your doing,” Shirabu strikes again.
He pins the brunette with a dry smile. “Seriously, cut it out.”
“You’ve dined with him a few times, Sugawara.” Shouyou frowns over at the silver-haired omega. “What’s he like?”
Sugawara’s eyes roll to the ceiling and he hums in thought. “Hm. He’s a serious man. He only speaks when necessary.”
“Why do you like him so much, Goshiki?”
“Tsutomu.”
Shouyou blushes and corrects himself: “Tsutomu.”
Goshiki sighs dreamily, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. Shirabu groans. “Now you’ve got him started.”
“He’s handsome, strong, powerful … his voice—oh Shouyou, his voice—everything about it is just so perfect.”
“But The Don,” Shouyou shifts uncomfortably, “he’s older, isn’t he?”
“He’s actually young for a Don!” Goshiki gets defensive. “Only twenty-two!”
But that doesn’t wipe the concerned frown off his face. “But Gosh—Tsutomu … you’re sixteen like me.”
He crosses his arms over his chest. “So? Ushijima says I’m mature for my age!”
Shouyou and Sugawara share a look. He’s about to push further, but there’s a knock at the door.
“Come in,” Shirabu calls.
Semi enters, cracking an amused smile. “This is where you all are. It’s good to see you finally getting along.”
Goshiki huffs and looks away. If someone were to say he’s blushing, he’d probably deny it.
Shirabu sweeps his eyes up and down the alpha. “You look handsome.”
The alpha scowls, his ears flushing. “You can’t just say that so flippantly!”
Shrugging, Shirabu turns back to his homework, completely dismissing Semi’s flustered state, only serving to annoy the alpha further.
“Are we going?” Shouyou asks.
“Yeah. Tendou’s already there. We should get going before it’s late—” Semi grimaces “—well, later than it is already.”
Because Tendou was held up in Lower Tokyo, dinner with Don Ushijima had been pushed back to 9pm, long after the bulk of Shiratorizawa and Karasuno had already eaten. In some respects, Shouyou thinks this is a blessing. If the night drags on, maybe he can use the excuse that he’s tired and leave straight after dinner. On the other hand, he’s had to sit in nauseating anticipation for several hours now.
Sugawara pulls him in and Shouyou nuzzles against his scent gland. He giggles as the older boy places a chaste kiss to his forehead. When they pull apart, he notices Goshiki and Shirabu have weird looks on their faces.
“Be good!”
“I will, bye mum!”
“Goodbye!”
They both freeze. Sugawara blinks. Shouyou whips around, snatches Semi’s hand and charges out the door, laughter chasing after him.
Semi opts not to tease him for it and he’s forever indebted to him.
Despite all the omegas’ reassurances, he can’t keep still. He’s bouncing on the balls of his feet by the time they enter the elevator, and practically vibrating when they step out onto a higher floor. It’s kinda weird. Like, yeah—he’s scared, but he’s also a bit excited?
The Don would come up in conversation every now and then when they were living Below. Always spoken in hushed voices, always with grim undertones, like he’s this harbinger of doom. Especially whenever Sawamura or Sugawara brought him up, and only ever when they thought no one else was listening. But it was impossible to have private conversations in that tiny old apartment. Someone’s secret was everyone’s secret.
Even before Karasuno—before even Kageyama—he knew of Don Ushijima. To the strays he’s like an otherworldly figure, an idea more than a person. Being recruited by a top rogue pack was a fantasy strays would entertain over a meal of scraps, but something only a select few would ever get to live out.
Guess Tsutomu and Shirabu were those select few, huh?
Semi guides him through the apartment. It’s empty, and it’s uncomfortable, and he doesn’t like it at all. It reminds him of those minimalist homes he saw once on TV. Where’s the personality? The home?
But all the obsidian and dark, sleek edges of the furniture adds to the picture of Ushijima that he has in his head.
Instead of taking him to the dining room, he’s led to a dark room with stylish leather couches, bathed in the intense glow of a wall-length aquarium. The eery shadows of two massive, black fish with red tails glide across the seated figures of two men on the couch, one of them Tendou, and the other with his back facing them.
“—and then some idiot in a Toyota tries to race me on Rainbow Highway and I’m like: ‘Who the fuck do you think you are?”’So I rev the engine and leave that little took-took in the dust. But then—get this right—he catches up while I’m waiting at the next set of lights. And of course this time it’s on, you know, like I can’t let them—oh! Semisemi, Madeline! So good of you to finally join us!”
Shouyou gapes. “Who you callin’ Madeline? You look like Ronald McDonald’s son!”
Throwing his head back, Tendou lets out a cackling laugh. “Good one, Chibi-chan!”
With a steady hand on his back, Semi guides Shouyou around to face the mystery man.
Olive eyes cut him sharper than any knife could, and he immediately folds into a bow like he’s taken a punch to the gut. His body trembles. It’s as if the atmosphere tripled its weight all of a sudden.
“Hinata Shouyou.”
He doesn’t move.
“Take a seat.”
He lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, and Semi steers him over to the armchair directly opposite Ushijima, and then seats himself on the couch opposite Tendou.
“You’ll never guess where I found him, Satori.” Semi smirks. “In Tsutomu’s room.”
“Waha!” The redhead slaps his thighs. “You finally warming my kouhai’s cold little heart did’ja, Chibi-chyan?”
“We uh—” he glances at Ushijima and then glances away “—yeah?”
“Had a feelin’ it’d happen,” Tendou purrs. “You got that thing about’cha—always makin’ friends wherever you go.”
Ushijima reaches for a tablet sitting on the coffee table. “I’m satisfied with your value grade, Hinata. You should be proud. You’re one of only five white pins in the city to have a score above 95.”
“I … I am?” he wheezes.
“Have you seen your results?”
“No.”
“Would you like to take a look?”
He nods mutely, and Ushijima hands him the tablet.
“There are a few surprises in there,” Tendou chimes in.
“What’s the LHW category?”
“Length, height, width,” Semi provides. “You lost a few points in that department.”
Tendou’s eyes swim with amusement. “There’s a bit of contradiction in your results. You get points for tininess ‘cuz it makes you cute, but lost points for tininess ‘cuz it’s not ideal for childbearing. It cancels itself out, so I don’t get why they added it.
“You lost points for being underweight too.” The redhead tuts.
“The biggest shock was your birthmark.” Semi is right. The birthmark on his shoulder earned him a whopping 15 points. “Birthmarks are usually graded negatively, but the bonus points awarded from that birthmark is what skyrocketed your score to high 90s.”
“May I see it?”
Three heads turn to Ushijima. Shouyou goes pink, his gut-response wanting to refuse him until he remembers what Goshiki told him: “… do exactly what he says and you’ll be fine.”
“Y-Yes.”
The Don beckons, and Shouyou circles the table to sit on the opposite sofa with his back facing slightly away from him. He shrugs off his suspenders and unbuttons his shirt, but only just enough that the collar sags over his right shoulder. The Don pulls the shirt down further to get a better look, and Shouyou squeaks, crossing his arms over his chest to make sure his nipples aren’t showing.
“I wanna see, I wanna see!” Tendou leans over Ushijma’s shoulder, and even Semi gets up to take a look.
Shouyou closes his eyes, his face so hot he thinks he might pass out. A rough finger traces the area where his birthmark is, and he shudders.
“It’s a love heart!” Tendou exclaims.
“I can see why he got so many points for it,” Semi says.
Ushijima gives a curt “hm” and releases Shouyou’s collar. He immediately buttons the shirt back up and snaps the suspenders back in place. He’s then met with a dilemma: does he go back to his seat or does he stay where he is?
But thankfully, Shouyou doesn’t have to make that call, because Taichi enters and announces that dinner is ready.
Tendou and Semi sit opposite in the centre of the grand dining table, Shouyou to Semi’s right, and at the head of the table, Don Ushijima. He hadn’t even realised how hungry he was until a plate of cutlets are placed in front of him.
“There won’t be entrees tonight. Since it’s so late, I figured you’d want to go straight to mains,” Taichi explains.
“Senator Yachi is stirring up more trouble,” Tendou informs Ushijima once Taichi has left to fetch more wine. “She tried to get police to keep Tokonami in holding cells until the district attorney could make it down there to pin them on drug trafficking charges—could you believe that? Good thing we got there first and sprung them, else our little novice pack would be in for a bit of a headache.”
“She’s getting bolder by the day,” Ushijima says.
“This week it’s third-tier packs, the next week she’ll be angling for bigger fish. The bitch has gotta go!”
“It’ll come up at the annual Gathering of the Tides, to be sure. We can’t act alone when dealing with her.”
Shouyou plays with the peas on his plate, only half listening. Yachi … Yachi … Didn’t Tadashi mention a Yachi he’s been hanging out with …? Probably just a coincidence.
“How’re you enjoying school?” Shouyou nearly drops his fork.
“I-It’s good! Great! Super fun!” He sinks further into his seat and shoves a fork of potatoes in his mouth.
There’s a pause, and then Ushijima says: “Satori tells me you’re quite close with Kageyama.”
Shouyou glares at Tendou from across the table. “Snitch,” he hisses.
The redhead cocks his head. “Snitch? Oh cute, baby Shou-chan, ‘snitch’ implies that I retain some loyalty towards you—which I do not.”
“You’re defensive of your relationship with him,” Ushijima observes. “Are you romantic?”
Shouyou grits his teeth. “Used to be. Sugawara and Sawamura found out and made us break up.”
The Don nods. “And it will remain that way. You’re no good to me if Kageyama defiles you.”
Defiles? “No use to you …?”
“As a white pin, which you will no longer be if you lose your virginity.”
He flushes a violent shade of red. “I know that!”
“Then we’re at an understanding, then.”
Out of nowhere, the rebel in him rears its ugly head, and he says: “Go—Tsutomu says you think omegas are of age once they’ve had their first heat, which is usually around fourteen or fifteen!”
“Correct,” Ushijima replies coolly, not at all bothered by Shouyou speaking out of turn.
He splutters. “Why? How could you think that? How could you think me or—or Tsutomu or Shirabu would be ready to have kids?! We aren’t even out of high school!”
“I do not think you should be having kids. It would be inconvenient. All I believe is that an omega’s first heat is simply their body telling them that they are ready for childbearing, and therefore ready to aid an alpha in rut, nothing more.”
“But …” Shouyou clutches his stomach and wipes the sweat from his forehead. “So that’s … that’s what Tsutomu is to you then? Just an omega to carry your kids?”
“Tsutomu?” Ushijima quirks an eyebrow. “No, Tsutomu’s purpose is to quell my ruts. He’s good for other things too, but that is his main purpose.”
“How could you be so …”
Shouyou grips the edge of the table, unable to sit up straight anymore. Something’s wrong. Oh no. The pheromones in the room are heightening ten-fold, overwhelming him to the point of incoherency.
“… so cruel,” he whimpers out.
“Cruelty has nothing to do with it,” Ushijima says smoothly. “You can resist it all you like, but you will always be a slave to your own biology.”
“It smells like cookies in here,” Taichi comments as he re-enters with a bottle of wine, only to stiffen as he nears the table.
“Huu? Chibi-chan, you’re sweating an awful lot.” Tendou’s lips pull into a Cheshire grin. “You getting a little heated?”
Shouyou snaps his head up, meeting Ushijima’s leer. “I’m—I’m going into heat!”
“It appears so.”
“Oh god.” He adjusts himself and he feels a wetness between his legs. “I’ve got—I’ve gotta go. I’ve gotta …”
“Stay,” Ushijima commands, his voice stern. “Finish your dinner, and then you can have dessert.”
A whimper escapes him and he presses his cheek against the glass table, desperate for anything cool to the touch. “I can’t—I’m too dizzy.”
“Then Semi will spoon feed you until your plate is empty.”
“Don’t—!” Shouyou jerks when Semi moves to his side. He topples to the floor and starts to panic. “Don’t touch me. I want Sugawara. Where’s Sugawara—please, I need him.”
“Hinata,” Ushijima growls.
He stiffens.
“Sit. Eat.”
He struggles back into his seat, more slick falling out of him. Semi’s hand on the back of his neck is cool and reassuring, and he relaxes as the alpha helps him polish off the remaining food on his plate.
As promised, dessert is served next. Tendou and Ushijima continue to converse as if nothing is wrong, while Shouyou feels every minute tick by at an agonisingly slow pace. The fever is intense, and the surface of his skin is sensitive to every rustle of fabric, and every graze of steel from the cutlery. By the end his eyes are closed, with barely enough consciousness to open his mouth as Semi feeds him ice cream.
It’s absurd, he thinks, just how indifferent the alphas are. Every so often he opens his eyes and he thinks he sees something there, something in their eyes that makes him want to hide.
But it could just be his imagination.
“Tendou often told me you were an interesting one,” Ushijima says once the dinner table is cleared. “I’m inclined to agree. We’ll dine again another night, when you aren’t so … incongruent.”
Tendou snickers.
“Semi, take him to his room. And keep the alpha pup away from him.”
“Bye-bye, Chibi-chan. See you in a couple days!”
“Hinata, are you listening …?”
“Hina… Hinata…”
“Hi…na…”
.
.
.
“Shouyou.”
He opens his eyes. It’s dark, except for the light coming from the hallway. He sees Sugawara’s worried face hovering above him. The coil in his stomach lessens, and he eases into the mattress, the distress of dinner washing away with the gentle caresses of Sugawara’s hand against his neck.
Notes:
Surprise!! Another early chapter!! Love you all <3
Also: GOSHIKI SUPREMACY!!!
Chapter 17: Mark of the Beast
Notes:
TW: There's a pretty graphic scent of someone being non-consensually marked. I don't think anyone would necessarily be triggered by that specifically, but it is violent so imma leave this here anyway.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Sawamura’s new dojo still has that fresh paint smell about it. It’s been roughly a month since the renovations finished. It used to be a ballet studio that closed down due a recent scandal with one of the dance teachers. According to Tendou, anyway. Tobio takes everything he says with a grain of salt. But he doesn’t care for the details. As long as he gets to punch something, who cares? Especially if that something is Tsukishima.
Well, Tsukishima holding a punching bag, but he likes to imagine that the bag is an extension of the stupid beanpole whenever they get paired up for practice.
The Hokon Dojo of Lower Tokyo and the Hokon Dojo of Upper Tokyo is like comparing a 30-year-old station wagon to a brand new sportscar. The greenish-vaguely-bluish carpet of the old dojo had mysterious stains that they’d make up crazy stories about (when really it was probably just water damage); the windows were single-paned sheets of glass that retained a consistent sheen of fog; the equipment presented itself with the patchy, worn hardship of a thousand different fists; and don’t even get him started on the smell. The new dojo, on the other hand, is over-polished and rubs him the wrong way. It’s not like he’d prefer that the old dojo was magically transported here, but it could at the very least maintain some feel of authenticity.
It’s on a B-level (Upper Tokyoites refer to levels below a hundred as a B-level, and the ones below two-hundred A-level [oh god he’s beginning to sound like them]) in the ‘fitness district’, an area where a bunch of specialised sports activities congregate in one place. Walking through it is like traversing a mall, only instead of shopping boutiques there are classes for a variety of activities: dance classes, boxing, squash, aerobics—if it’s not on a field, it’s probably here. Hokon Dojo isn’t even the only dojo on this level. They might’ve passed three on the route they took alone.
Despite the differences, however, Tobio will admit that it does feel good to be back in his gi again.
The leather of the punching bag is brand new at it bites his knuckles.
“Letting out your teen angst?” Tsukishima grunts.
Tobio hits the bag harder. The blonde doesn’t break his stance.
“Shut up.”
“Is it Hinata?”
“Shut—” he slams his fist, the burn sharpening “—up!”
“So they won’t let you see him while he’s in heat. Big deal. It’s not like it’d be different if we were still back in Hell.”
“Oh, so Lower Tokyo is ‘Hell’ to you now?” he bites out. “When did that start happening? Are you really so desperate to be one of these people that you’d—”
“Don’t even suggest that. Don’t you dare.” When Tobio’s fist collides with the punching bag, he feels a slight pushback this time. “We don’t belong here, and I don’t want to belong here. I’d soon rather call Upper Tokyo ‘Hell’ than I would Lower Tokyo.”
“Then why even call it that?”
Tsukishima shrugs. “Spending too much time with Tendou?”
“That clown.” Tobio scowls darkly. “Can’t believe he joked about neutering me at dinner yesterday. Fucking freak.”
“I thought it was funny.”
He rolls his eyes. “Yeah. I know. You weren’t subtle.”
“He only said it because you’re so pitifully in love with our resident idiot. If you had any talent for acting, you wouldn’t be under the microscope.”
“Whatever.”
“I’m serious—”
“Swap!” Noya barks. They switch and it’s Tsukishima doing the punching. And he doesn’t hold back.
“—you need to chill when you’re around Shiratorizawa. Your obsession will only hurt you both in the long run.”
“I’m not obsessed.”
“Oh my god, we’ve had this exact conversation before. Stop it.”
“You stop it,” he retorts weakly.
It isn’t easy to admit that Tsukishima has a point. Even in his dying breath he wouldn’t tell Tsukishima that he’s right, because pettiness is the foundation of their relationship and it’ll be that way until one of them kicks the bucket.
A few nights ago, Hinata dined with The Don. It was something Karasuno were dreading, though they knew it was only a matter of time. And as if things couldn’t be anymore foreboding, Semi returns with Hinata in heat. The thought of Hinata sitting through a meal in a room made up entirely of alphas—strange alphas with strange intentions—while also excreting pheromones at a dangerous rate, had Tobio’s mind jumping to all kinds of assumptions, each as unfavourable as the last.
And well, things got ugly. And it was his fault—mostly.
He’d picked a fight with Semi outside Sugawara’s room. It escalated to a one-sided screaming match. He’s not gonna admit who was screaming.
Tendou came and broke things up. Sugawara confirmed later that Hinata was perfectly fine—physically anyway. State of mind is still up in the air.
Since then, Tobio has officially earned a place on Shiratorizawa’s naughty list.
It’s not like they were treating him fairly before, but now it’s borderline bullying. The omegas with the stupid haircuts look at him like he’s a puzzle they can’t figure out; Oohira, Semi, Yamagata and Taichi treat him like he’s fourteen and newly Presented; and Tendou—well fuck Tendou, honestly.
They’ve all banished him from the omega wing until further notice. Tendou says it’s only until Hinata’s heat breaks, but Goshiki’s and Shirabu’s eyes say: indefinitely.
“Before we leave, I have somethings I would like to discuss with you guys,” Sawamura announces once practice has wrapped up and all the equipment has been put away. Their ex-leader sits on a platform above the ground, while the rest of them kneel in front of him. “I had a meeting yesterday with Don Ushijima and some of the other Shiratorizawa alphas. What we discussed will likely be brought up at some point by Tendou, but I would like you to hear it from me first.”
“What’s it about?” Azumane asks.
“It’s about your futures.”
A grim silence settles over the dojo.
Sawamura continues with reluctance: “Being a first-tier rogue pack means that we adhere strictly to the wishes of The Don. Our purpose is to be useful—always remember that. The day you are useless to Ushijima will be your last day on earth. Since you’re all still young, he doesn’t have high expectations for you yet, but now is the time to manipulate your open pathways to his advantage.”
“Make us into his lackeys, you mean,” Noya clarifies tartly.
He nods. “Precisely.”
“What do you mean by ‘open pathways’ though?” Tanaka huffs.
“What you will do after graduation.”
“Aw you’ve gotta be kiddin’,” the beta whines, rubbing his bald head. “I haven’t even thought that far ahead. I’m still stuck stressing over the history paper due next week!”
“It’s no longer something you will think about,” Daichi says, “because your futures have already been planned out for you.”
A range of reactions pass across the betas and alphas, all of which range from seething distaste to explosive outrage. Sawamura holds his hand up, silencing them. “This is why I wanted you to hear this from me first, so you know what’s coming. The Don has been considering your options even before we moved here. Now that the results of your mid-terms have been released, he has a better idea of what he wants from you. I provided some suggestions based off what I know, but it’s ultimately his decision to make.”
“This is bullshit!” Noya yells. “I don’t want to work after graduation! Daichi—you know I’ve been saving up for years to go travelling!”
“I know, Yuu. But this is out of our hands.”
The beta trembles with anger. But the look in their ex-leader’s eyes has Noya holding it all back.
“What has Don Ushijima decided?” Azumane leans forward. Since he’ll be the first one to graduate from the group, he’s the most anxious by the news.
“He wants you to get a medical degree and become the pack’s personal medic.”
Azumane’s shoulders sag. “Did you tell him I wanted to be a nurse?”
Sawamura nods, sympathetic.
The younger alpha gives a hollow “oh” and lowers his head, saying nothing more.
“Cheer up, Azumane. It’s close enough!” Tanaka tries to lighten the mood, patting him on the shoulder. But the alpha makes no indication that he’s even there.
Noya grasps Azumane’s hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.
“Ryu, since your grades—uh, leave much to be desired—Ushijima thinks you might do well in a managerial position at one of his clubs. As for Yuu, your athleticism has promise, so Ushijima wants you to join the soccer club as a goalie to see if you’re good enough to eventually go pro.”
They betas look at each other in surprise.
“So … we don’t have to study hard for school?” Noya asks.
“Well, you still have to pass.”
“But we don’t have to work our asses off?” Tanaka clarifies.
Sawamura rolls his eyes. “Like you’ve ever worked your asses off at school.”
“Is that a yes?” Tanaka and Noya are learning forward now, as if this is the single most important news that they’ll ever receive.
A sigh, and then: “Yes.”
Tanaka fist pumps the air and Noya tackles him. It quickly devolves into a tickling contest that has them rolling across the floor of the dojo.
Sawamura ignores them and says, “Anyway, Tadashi, Shiratorizawa is in need of someone who’s tech-savvy, so you’ll be gunning for a double degree in computer science and cyber security at Kanawashi University.”
“Kanawashi University …” Yamaguchi says slowly. “As in, the most exclusive university in the country?”
Yamaguchi earns his sympathies. They’ve heard a great deal about Kanawashi, since it’s the only university any of the Kintsuru students talk about. They say it takes up a grand total of five levels in No Man’s Tower, and sits near the 200th level. Only Japan’s top 1% of elites get in, alongside the smartest academics in the whole world. No friends are made on campus, only rivals.
“As a Kintsuru graduate, you will be favoured in the evaluation process. Being a member of Shiratorizawa also doesn’t hurt you chances, since Taichi’s father is a member of Kanawashi’s approval board.”
This doesn’t ease Yamaguchi’s concerns at all. The poor beta looks like one cold breeze away from keeling over and dying.
“As for you, Kei, you have a great critical eye. Ushijima is under the impression you’ll do well in politics.”
Tsukishima frowns. “So not only am I expected to deal with idiots at home, but I’ll have to deal with idiots at work too? Yeah, that sounds about right.”
“Hey!” Noya and Tanaka stop to yell at Tsukishima.
The blond alpha adjusts his glasses and smirks. “That’s basically an admission.”
“And me?” Sawamura meets Tobio’s gaze. “What’s our all-knowing, all-powerful Don decided for me?”
He doesn’t really expect much. His grades aren’t great, and he hasn’t shown interest in any clubs or hobbies that might take him to places in the future. It’s hard to really conceptualise the future, when for a long time he was convinced he wouldn’t have one.
But Sawamura’s face turns into something unexpectedly wistful, as if what he’s about to say hurts him most of all: “You’ll be a marksman. An assassin who does Ushijima’s bidding.”
Noise drains away from the dojo. He can feel the weight of all their gazes, he can feel the emotions wafting off them. Sure, it sucks that you don’t get exactly what you were hoping for out of life—Azumane wanted to work as a nurse in a hospital, instead he’ll be patching up criminals; Noya wanted to go travelling, instead he gets to be a sports star. But at least there’s honour or glory to be had in those professions.
Everyone unanimously understands that Tobio’s purpose is by far the worst.
“Is this punishment?” Tobio asks thickly. “Is it because I’ve been difficult recently?”
“No, not all. There were a range of different factors—”
“Such as?”
Sawamura frowns. “Tendou reported that your aim is getting increasingly better—”
“He’s lying!” he snarls. “I won’t be a killer for Ushijima! I promised … I …”
“Can you take a life, Tobio-chan?”
“You’re not a monster, Kageyama-kun … I won’t let you become one.”
If Ushijima gets his way … if he ends up the cold-blooded assassin that strikes fear in the hearts of San Tokyo’s underbelly … It’ll be an empty, unfulfilling existence. He knows this, because Oikawa used to be a marksman for Ushijima back when they were still on good terms.
That’s the story Yahaba told him once when Oikawa came back drunk out of his mind. And while Oikawa holds himself with dignity in front of his peers, murder ruined him. It fractured his mental state and turned him into a bitter, washed-up has-been with vengeance poisoning his every thought.
There’s also another indisputable fact if Ushijima gets his way, one that scares him worse than murder: Hinata won’t love him.
*
It’s Shouyou’s first day back at school after his heat broke. From the moment Sugawara’s alarm clock jerked him out of sleep this morning, Shouyou immediately felt an improvement. Before Sugawara could even reach over to turn off his alarm, Shouyou was already out of bed and running to find Semi. The alpha checked his temperature, gave him a once-over, and then gave him the OK to go to school.
Now he and Kageyama are sitting with their desks connected, eating lunch. The alpha sips on a box of milk as Shouyou plays with a lone cherry tomato, the last of today’s casualties. Funny how he’d looked forward to such a mundane ritual—sitting eating lunch with Kageyama. But over the past couple of days it was all he thought about.
Why? What makes lunch with Kageyama so great? They just sit, eat, and talk about random stuff. Nothing special.
Maybe it’s because it’s the last thing that’s exclusively theirs.
During their six-month relationship, they had a lot of time to themselves. During the summer holidays they could go out for ice-cream, or go to an arcade, and nobody would bat an eyelash. During lunch they’d sneak away to make-out under the stairwell, and steal kisses in class when they thought no one was looking.
Those days are vague smudges on a canvas now. It’s been months, but it feels like a lifetime ago.
“Have you ever thought about us getting back together?” Shouyou asks wistfully.
Kageyama chokes on his milk and he pounds a fist against his chest, coughing violently. “What?!”
He shrugs, trying to play it off like it’s no big deal, despite heat blooming in his cheeks. “Just like, you know, have you ever thought about how we could manage under the circumstances? Like this time we have together —lunchtime—it’s the only privacy we get, so I mean, if we wanted to …”
Shouyou trails off, knowing Kageyama will fill in the blanks.
It takes a couple blinks before Kageyama catches on, and when he does, he turns as red as the cherry tomato in Shouyou’s bento box.
“No! Hinata—” he lowers his voice to a harsh whisper “—are you completely out of your mind? Do you have any idea what life has been like for me back at the apartment? Shiratorizawa treat me like I’m some sex offender!”
“Oh, don’t be dramatic.” Shouyou rolls his eyes, finally plucking the tomato with his chopsticks and popping it into his mouth. Tangy sweetness bursts against his inner cheek as he chews.
“I’m not being dramatic. You don’t realise because you’re either not paying attention, or aren’t in the room when it happens, but trust me, the number of veiled threats they’ve thrown my way is enough to convince me that you’re radioactive.”
He pouts. “So you wouldn’t even consider it? Even if we just kissed and cuddled?”
“No,” the alpha asserts, slamming down his empty box of milk on the table. “I want my balls firmly attached to my body, thanks.”
“I guess you never really liked me then, if you’re so easily influenced,” Shouyou sulks.
Kageyama rubs his forehead. “Never really—oh god. Stop being a dumbass. Please. For fuck’s sake. You can’t seriously expect me to do something so reckless, and so stupid—ugh! Why would you even suggest something like that!”
Standing up, Shouyou fixes the alpha with a look. “Because I miss being with you, idiot. Whatever—I got my answer.”
“Where’re you going?” Kageyama stands up, his gaze following Shouyou as he marches towards the door.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” Shouyou throws over his shoulder, not looking back to see if he’s following. Halfway down the hallway, he realises that Kageyama didn’t follow, and he swallows the bitter aftertaste left by the cherry tomato.
Stares track him on his way to the bathroom. It’s been happening all day, from the moment he sat down at his desk. Word had gotten out about his value grade. If the white pin hadn’t called attention to him before, his grade certainly did now. It’s a strange thing. It isn’t an achievement in the same vein as an academic grade or a sports award. No one’s patting him on the back and saying: “Well done on getting a 97 on your value exam!”
No, rather, he’s looked at with awe, jealousy and desire. Like a priceless jewel or a painting.
“It’ll be different now, you know,” Tsutomu warned him on their way down to school. “A value grade is what truly makes you an object in the eyes of the public.”
And Tsutomu was right. In his first week, people made an effort to include him, to get to know him. But now the most he gets are wary stares. Nobody tries talking to him anymore. As he walks, students shift out of the way, as if afraid they might accidently touch him.
The bathrooms are at the very end in a corner that sits between the first-year and second-year hallways. He pushes open the door with a large ‘O’ on the front, and does his business. After he’s done washing his hands, he pulls down the collar of his shirt to take a look at the discoloured patch of skin on his collarbone where his crow tattoo used to be. They had it laser removed before his examination. Oddly enough, this procedure hurt him more than any of the surgical ones did.
He hears the door swing open. He doesn’t look up to see who it is. The moment he turns to dry his hands, a hand snatches his wrist and yanks him into one of the stalls.
“Hey! What are you—?” The cubicle door locks behind him, and it triggers his fight or flight response.
Grabbing the wrists of the omega who’d cornered him, he shoves him up against the door. “What the hell’s your problem?!”
The boy bows his head, a curtain of bleached hair falling over his eyes so he can’t see his face properly. His grip tightens. He’s about to repeat himself when he glimpses the tiniest smile on the omega’s face. Before he can react he’s twisting out of Shouyou’s grip and shoving him down onto the closed toilet seat.
A yell gets caught in his throat and a hand slaps over his mouth. He’s met with large, catlike eyes that are strikingly familiar.
“Don’t you recognise me, Shouyou?”
The flicker of confusion is brief, before realisation hits him like a bag of bricks. A large grin pulls beneath his palm, and he removes it to let him speak, but instead Shouyou lurches forward and locks his arms around the other boy’s neck.
“Kenma!”
He can’t believe he didn’t recognise him sooner! The hair’s different, he’s gotten a bit taller, and he’s got tattoos on his hands now, but other than that he hasn’t really changed at all!
“Sh-Shouyou.”
“Ah! Sorry!” He leaps back. “I didn’t mean to do that. I was just—I’m so happy you’re here! I’m so happy to see you! It’s been so long I thought we might never see each other again—and I looked for you outside the dojo but you never visited. And I realised I forgot to get your number so I had no way of contacting you. And also, your scary friend told me not to say anything so I didn’t mention you to Sawamura or anyone I swear it on my life—and—”
“It’s good to see you too, Shouyou.”
Shouyou grins. “Those were some wild reflexes you have. I never would’ve guessed just by looking at you!”
Amusement flashes across Kenma’s intense eyes. “You’re not the only one who knows martial arts.”
“Wah! You do karate too? Aw man—why didn’t you say so?”
“You never asked.”
“How was I meant to know? Oh my gosh—we have so much to discuss. What are you doing at Kintsuru? How’d you know I was here? Also I really like what you did with your hair! It’s super cool! And—and—is that a red pin?”
Blinking, Kenma reaches up, his fingers brushing across his pin. “I go here. Your packmates are in my class and they talk about you all the time. Thanks, I did it myself, and yes—I’m a red pin.”
“Awesome! That means you …” Shouyou scrunches his nose in thought. “You’re … what’s a red pin again?”
Baring his neck, Kenma points at his scent gland. “I’m a virgin, but I’m marked.”
“Oh. R-Right.” Shouyou blinks, feeling a little stupid. The whole status thing has been explained to him half a hundred times, and he keeps forgetting which colour means what, and whether they’re considered favourable or unfavourable. Because like … who cares? As long as they’re a good person it shouldn’t matter, right?
“We don’t have a lot of time,” Kenma mutters, fishing something out of his pocket and putting it in Shouyou’s hand. It’s a burner phone. “Give this to Daichi. Make sure nobody else sees it. Can you do that?”
Shouyou nods obediently, slipping it into his pocket. “But Kenma, wh—”
“I’m sorry. I wish we could spend more time together—” he stares at the cubicle door as if someone’s going to burst in at any moment and find them “—but we can’t be seen in public together. I’m from a first-tier pack on the West Side. Shiratorizawa know who I am.”
His shoulders deflate. “Oh, I see.”
Cracking a small smile, Kenma holds Shouyou’s hands in his own. “We’ll keep in touch—for real this time, but in secret. There’s a janitor’s closet near the eastern stairwell and I know how to pick locks. Why don’t you meet me there at lunch in a couple days?”
Brightening, Shouyou nods his head vigorously. “I-I can do that! Yes! Let’s do it!”
“If you see me in the hallway though, you can’t acknowledge me at all, OK?”
“OK!”
“Give the phone to Daichi. It’s really important.”
“I will!”
“Good. You leave the bathroom first, I’ll leave a little later so there’s no suspicion.”
As he slips out into the hallway, his heart lodges itself into his throat at the sight of Shirabu and Tsutomu making their way down from second-year territory. His first instinct is to run, but he can’t get his legs to move. It’s like they’re glued to the floor.
“Oh, Shouyou!” Tsutomu waves.
Great. Now he definitely can’t run. It’d be way too suspicious!
“What are you doing here?” he blurts out, then mentally kicks himself.
Shirabu quirks an eyebrow. “I’m walking Tsutomu back to class. The bell’s about to ring.”
“O-Oh … right.”
“Come on, we’ll go together.”
“Yes. Definitely. Duh.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets and whistles. The Shiratorizawa omegas roll their eyes and head for the first-year hallway, expecting Shouyou to follow.
“How’re you feeling, Hinata?” Shirabu asks.
“Alright.”
“Tendou told us what happened,” Tsutomu says sympathetically. “That must’ve been scary for you.”
He scratches the back of his head. “It was a little scary in the moment, but nothing bad happened.”
“Of course nothing bad happened! Our alphas are perfect gentlemen.”
Says you. He’s tempted to call Tsutomu out on his bias, but he’s cut off by the indignant snarl of an alpha up ahead. The closer they get, the more Shouyou notices the domineering pheromones weighing down the atmosphere. Tsutomu and Shirabu tense, sensing it as well.
An alpha has an omega pressed up against the wall and he’s shouting hateful words at her. The omega presses herself against the wall as much as she can, turning her head away as she flinches at every slur he spits in her face. Students are stopping to stare, some in confusion and others in curiosity.
And then in one split second, the alpha grabs the omega’s hair, yanks her head so that her neck is bared, and sinks his teeth into her scent gland.
Tsutomu shoves Shouyou behind him, but he’s not quick enough. Blood bursts from the scent gland and the omega lets out a terrifying scream. Pandemonium breaks out in the hallway. Omega students bolts in either direction, betas yell for teachers, and alphas snarl. Distressed pheromones strike at Shouyou’s nerves and he grips the back of Tsutomu’s uniform. It’s then he realises that the omega is shaking. No—they’re all shaking, all three of them.
“Let’s get out of here,” Shirabu grunts as he shoves them forward.
And even though Tsutomu tries to protect him with an arm around his shoulder, Shouyou still peeks as they’re leaving. The omega is clutching her neck, sinking slowly down the wall in complete shock, and the alpha takes a step back, wiping the blood around his lips with the sleeve of his blazar.
Kageyama grabs him as soon as he’s escorted back to his classroom. “What the hell happened?” he throws at Tsutomu and Shirabu.
There are omegas hiding under desks and alphas lingering by the door looking ready for a fight.
“An alpha attacked an omega in the hallway,” Shirabu explains.
“Attacked? What do you mean attacked?”
Ignoring him, Shirabu nods at Shouyou. “Don’t leave when school’s over. I’ll come by and get you both and we’ll go home together.”
They have to go on pretending like nothing happened for the rest of the school day. Their teacher shows up late and downplays the situation. The girl was sent home early, the boy’s parents were called. The details on the aftermath are vague.
Most of the students act a little off regardless. The alphas can’t sit still in their seats, the betas share looks every now and then, and the omegas are quieter than usual.
Shouyou doesn’t understand. It happened so quick and without warning. One moment they’re walking through a bustling hallway, the next students disperse like animals running from a forest fire. You could taste the sickening clash of emotions penetrating the air. One of anger, spite and jealousy, and another of fear, pain and regret. It’s not something Shouyou has ever experienced before.
Why did it have to happen at all? What was the point?
And the blood … there was so much blood.
These thoughts haunt him through the rest of the day until they’re back at the apartment. Tsutomu must’ve sensed something’s wrong, because he’s tugging him towards his room after they’ve kicked off their shoes.
They sit on the bed facing each other. “Do you want to talk about it?”
Shouyou nods slowly.
“Have you ever seen someone be marked before?”
Shouyou answers, “Only in the movies.”
“Ah. It’s not the same, is it?”
Shouyou shakes his head.
Smiling sympathetically, Tsutomu says, “Movies and TV shows have always romanticised marking. They make it look so pleasant and easy.”
“There was so much blood.”
“Here—if you press your fingers against your scent gland like this, you can feel something move. Can you feel it?”
Copying Tsutomu, he pressed three fingers up against his neck. Something thick with liquid shifts underneath the small amount of pressure. “Yeah.”
“That’s called a blood lamina. It’s there to protect your carotid artery. Only omegas and alphas have it. When you get marked, it bursts. I don’t have one anymore because I’ve been marked—well I mean, the actual layer is still there as protection, it’s just no longer filled with blood.”
His eyes widen. “Y-You have a mark?”
Tsutomu snorts. “Shouyou. I’m a black pin.”
He nods. “I definitely know what that means.”
“It means,” Tsutomu rolls his eyes, “I’m not a virgin and I have been marked.”
“Right. I knew that.”
“Don’t lie!”
Shouyou shrugs sheepishly. “So who marked you? Was it Ushijima?”
“Sadly, no. You know how marking works, right?”
Shouyou shakes his head. “Sawamura and Sugawara never explained it to us. They’re very against the whole idea of it.”
Tsutomu licks his lips. “OK, well, you know what the scars on my face and Kenjirou’s means?”
Shouyou blinks at him.
Tsutomu sighs. “Oh boy. Those two really sheltered you, didn’t they? Ugh—so we (meaning Kenjirou and me) used to work for this guy named Fear.”
“His name … was Fear …” Shouyou says slowly.
“Yes, he was a pimp—our pimp. And pimps in Lower Tokyo have their own unique ways of showing others who their uh—workers—belong to. Sometimes it’s a tattoo with their symbol or name, or maybe a piece of jewellery. Fear’s method was to carve scars on our faces.”
Shouyou eyes blow wide and gasps. “That’s insane! What a psychopath!”
Tsutomu nods gravely. “He was. And like most pimps, he also marked us.”
“All of you?”
“All his workers—yes.”
Loosening his tie and popping open the top buttons of his shirt, he reaches into his pocket for a tiny key, which he then uses to pick the lock at the back of his choker. After a moment of tinkering, the choker unclasps and Tsutomu slips it off, showing his mark. Shouyou moves to take a closer look. Up close, he can see the indents of teeth gently raised and puffed, taking on an iridescent silvery colour. Tsutomu lets Shouyou run his fingers over the bumps and dips of the mark.
“I thought …” Shouyou’s voice is a whisper. “I thought you could only mark one person.”
Tsutomu shakes his head as he buttons his shirt back up. “I can see why you might think that, since movies play it off that way. An omega can only mark one alpha, but an alpha can mark multiple omegas.”
“That’s so unfair!”
“Yes, but there are pros and cons to both.”
“What d’you mean?”
The raven-haired omega gets off the bed and fetches a notepad and a pen from his desk. He draws a table, splitting them into two columns: one for an omega’s mark, the other for an alpha’s mark.
“If an alpha marks an omega and then the alpha dies, that alpha’s mark and its effects become null, and that omega can be marked by a different alpha. But the effects of an omega’s mark remain with the alpha, even if the alpha outlives the omega who marked them.”
Shouyou whines. “I don’t get it.”
“Basically: an omega can be marked multiple times, but an alpha can only be marked once.”
“OK … that makes sense I guess.”
Tsutomu nods. “Fear marked me and Kenjirou, and we were under his control right up until he was killed by Ushijima.”
“Ah! So you have a mark but it doesn’t work!” Shouyou hits his palm.
“Yes, it’s ineffective. Meaning I can be marked again.”
“Alright, I gotcha. What’s it like to be marked? From the way Sugawara talks about it, it seems like a shitty situation to be in.”
Tsutomu jots some stuff down on the notepad. “It can be. Kenjirou and me were marked before we Presented, which is a very dangerous thing to do. Marking is meant as a promise between lovers, but often it’s used as a way to stake claims on omegas and control them. Here—smell me.”
Blushing, Shouyou leans forward and sniffs. Then he frowns in confusion. Huh. He never noticed that before. “I … I don’t smell anything …?”
“Your scent is supposed to come in after you’ve Presented, but the mark damaged the gland so we don’t project a unique scent—we also can’t taste food.”
“And that wouldn’t have happened if you were marked after you Presented?”
“Yeah, exactly.” Tsutomu holds up the notepad to show what he’s written down, pointing to each dot-point with the tip of his pen. “Like I said, there’s pros and cons depending on who’s marked.”
Leaning forward, Shouyou squints at the list. “What’s a ‘pitch command’?”
“If an alpha gives a command in a certain pitch, their omega follows it unconditionally. It’s something that’s frowned upon a lot, but it still happens—especially in abusive relationships.”
“And an omega can hear their alpha’s thoughts?”
“I’ve heard it’s more an intuition than actually hearing. Like say your alpha’s hungry, you’ll know. If he’s tired, you’ll know. If he’s cheating, you’ll know. Some omegas call it ‘the silent connection’, because no words need to be communicated.”
There are a couple of other things on the list that Shouyou finds interesting: alphas feel more attentive to the omega(s) they’ve marked, feel more protective over them, and know when their omega is danger; while omegas are more synchronised to the needs of the alpha they’ve marked, and have a stronger influence over their emotions.
“Marking also increases your chances of conception, which is why fertility clinics recommend partners mark one another before trying for kids.”
This detail makes him think of Sugawara and how he can’t have children, and he feels a renewed stab of pity for the man. It was probably an added reason as to why he’s so against marking.
“Marking each other must be a weird experience,” Shouyou muses.
Tsutomu nods. “I’ve heard there’s a bunch of benefits if both parties are marked, but I can’t really speak from experience.”
He looks at Tsutomu sadly. “It must’ve been hard for you to explain this all to me.”
“It’s whatever.” Tsutomu shrugs. “It’s important you know this stuff so that you can protect yourself.”
“Is that why you like The Don so much? Because he killed Fear?”
The raven-haired omega blushes, snapping the cap back on his pen. “I owe him my life. If he hadn’t killed Fear, I would still be working the streets of Lower Tokyo under the thumb of one of the cruellest, most vile alphas in the city.”
He thinks of the Tsutomu back in Lower Tokyo. The same one that threatened them at knife-point. How awful life must’ve been for him. And then one of the most powerful alphas in the city comes along and sweeps him away from all of it, and gives him a second chance at life.
It’s a classic Cinderella story, only the prince is a bastard who uses Cinderella to get his dick wet. And oh—Cinderella is underage.
There’ll never come a day when Shouyou will approve of Tsutomu and Ushijima. Even if you’re able to look past the age difference (which, why would you?), it’s clear that the two aren’t on the same wave length. Ushijima made things perfectly clear at dinner: Tsutomu isn’t his mate, and likely never will be. Tsutomu, on the other hand, is terribly in love with Ushijima. He wants nothing more than to be The Don’s mate.
But while he could never find justification in Ushijima’s exploits, he can, at the very least, understand Tsutomu’s point of view. If just a little bit.
“Tsutomu … Why did you try and steal rice from us?”
To Tsutomu’s credit, he has the decency to feel guilty over what happened. “We tried to run away a few times—Kenjirou and me. We kinda sucked at finding food though, so we’d always end up going back to Fear. That time we were desperate because he told us that if we returned, he’d give us new scars.”
Shouyou gapes. “Did he?”
“No. I’m actually glad we never got food from you guys. If we had, we might not have returned, meaning we wouldn’t have been there when Don Ushijima killed Fear.”
“Huh … Things really come full circle, don’t they?”
Tsutomu snorts. “I’ll say.”
“So what do you thinks gonna happen to that omega that was attacked?” Shouyou asks.
“I don’t know,” Tsutomu says honestly. “Apparently a forced mark happens about once or twice a year at the school. But it’s the first time I’ve seen it.”
“I hope she’s OK.”
Tsutomu folds up his notepad and says: “I wouldn’t hold your breath.”
Notes:
WHOOP WHOOP! Another chapter! I love you all <3
Chapter 18: When the Last Blossom Falls
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Enki trailer park was alive with music on a chilly night in spring. Fairy lights reached from trailer to trailer, painting the rusted exteriors of the delipidated homes with a sheen of warmth. In the heart of the park, a steel oil drum burned with an open flame as the residents sat around it on foldout chairs. A man was hunched over his guitar, which was missing a string, and a woman beat her palms against the side of an empty milk crate as people of all ages sung to the stars.
The clatter of a trashcan falling over interrupted the ambience, and a skinny kid came barrelling through the trailer park, three older kids hot on his heels. An elderly woman snarled curses at them as she tried to smack the boy with her walking stick, but he effortlessly dodged with the reflexes of a cat.
A grin flashed across Tetsurou’s face as he saw his pursuers struggle to dodge the vitriol thrown at them from the trailer park rats. But he can’t enjoy it for long until they were back on his tail, chasing him out of the park and back into the shadows of Lower Tokyo’s concrete labyrinth. Cherry blossom petals soil in puddles of filth on the sidewalk as Tetsurou leapt to avoid them. He weaved through piles of garbage that were left out on the pavement by nearby apartment dwellers and skirted over collapsed cardboard boxes.
A homeless man peddling a shopping cart full of glass bottles came into view. Tetsurou threaded his fingers through the gaps in the cart and hurled it into the path of his pursuers. The shouts from the homeless man went ignored as Tetsurou kept on running.
The effort only earned him a few seconds, because he could still hear hurried footsteps slapping against the pavement behind him.
He swerved around the corner, almost dropping the bag of convenient store groceries.
“You can’t run forever!” the only girl of the group cried.
“Is that a challenge?” he barked back.
Tetsurou wasn’t sure how long he ran for, but the streets quickly got unfamiliar. Most of Lower Tokyo looked the same. All concrete, brick or neon. The best map you could use around these parts was the graffiti dripping from bus benches or billboards, since no tag or work of art were exactly the same. Only, Tetsurou didn’t recognise any of it.
He burned around another corner without thinking and took two steps before realising it was a dead end. “Ah fuck.”
Spinning, he found the older kids had already reached the mouth of the alley.
One of the boys grinned. “Nowhere to run now, ya lil shit!”
“Big words coming from a small person!”
That was the last jab he got in before the eleven-year-olds were on him, shoving him to the floor and kicking the shit out of him. The groceries he’d stolen got snatched away as the girl delivered a wounding blow to his stomach. The short boy got on his knees and begun pummelling his fists against his face, all the while calling him any insult he could think of—even if they didn’t make much sense.
“Oi! What are you doing?” The kids stopped and turned.
Tetsurou tried peeking through the legs of his attackers with his good eye. A boy stood at the alley entrance. Judging by his voice, height and face, they could be the same age.
At a glance there was nothing special about him. Short dark brown hair and brown eyes. Not really a stand out in San Tokyo. What was interesting was everything else about his appearance. Cuts and bruises go hand in hand with strays. It was part of the life of growing up on the streets, sleeping on concrete and scaling chain link fences, but it was never to this extent. The kid’s knuckles were wrapped in gauze, and his forearms and legs were peppered in black bruises. He had a number of Band-aids too, with one even slapped across his left cheek.
The kid carried a canvas sack tied to the end of a stick he had resting over his shoulder.
“Mind’ja business, brat!” one of the kids snarled.
“Yeah, fuck off!”
But Street Warrior didn’t back down. His brows pulled into a hard frown and he took a step in their direction. “I don’t think I’ve seen you guys around here. Who are you? What are you doing in South Side?”
South Side?
Man, he didn’t think he’d ran that far.
“We’ll leave once we’re finished with him!” the girl said. “Leave us alone!”
Street Warrior walked until he was in front of the eleven-year-old kids, and even though he was shorter than them (most of them), he had his head held high. “I can’t let you do that. South Side is my territory, and you’re on it.”
“Liar! South Side belongs to Don Ushijima!” one of them yelled as if it was exclusive knowledge.
Tetsurou tried to get up, but the girl kicked him down. “Did I say you could stand?”
“Don Ushijima owns South Side,” Street Warrior admitted, “but these streets belong to me.”
“You little—” one of the boys pulled his fist back and swung it at the Street Warrior, only for the boy to sidestep. In the blink of an eye, Street Warrior had the kid on his knees, buckling under the pain shooting up his arm as his wrist was bent back.
The others shied away, stunned at the mystery boy’s speed. The girl screamed and launched herself at him, but he kicked her in the abdomen and she hit her head against the wall. The last kid didn’t even bother. He bolted with the bag of groceries.
“Hibiki! You coward!”
Street Warrior let go of the boy and the last two vanished, Tetsurou effectively forgotten.
He blinked, dazed. The mystery boy squatted down in front of him. Up close he saw fresh abrasions on his skin here and there. A hand is offered to him and he took it, struggling to his feet.
“Anywhere that hurts?” Street Warrior asked.
Tetsurou rubbed the back of his head where he could feel a small lump forming. “Everywhere?”
He laughed and placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll take you to Ukai-sensei and Nekomata-sensei. They’ll have a look at you.”
Tetsurou ran his eyes up and down Street Warrior. “Will they make me look like a mummy?”
Street Warrior looked down at himself, then grinned sheepishly. “No. You don’t look that bad. My name’s Daichi by the way—Sawamura Daichi. I’m the Watcher of South Side.”
“Kuroo Tetsurou. West Side alley cat.”
‘Ukai’ and ‘Nekomata’ turned out to be two old men that shared a little house on the border between South Side and West Side. The two bickered like an old married couple but were apparently just best friends that decided to share the same roof out of financial convenience.
“Is one of them, like, your grandpa or something?” Tetsurou asked as Ukai left to remove the kettle from the stove.
The lean old man had looked him over and disinfected some of the cuts he’d gotten from the scuffle. Other than a black eye and a bump, Ukai couldn’t find anything to be concerned over.
Daichi shook his head, dangling his legs over the chair. “Nah, I’m a stray as well. Ukai-sensei is my karate teacher.”
All the bruises were starting to make a lot more sense. “So that’s why you’ve got gauze on your knuckles and—” he gestured to the blotches on his knees and arms “—all this.”
Before Daichi could answer, Ukai popped back into the conversation carrying a tray of tea. “I keep tellin’ the kid to stop pushin’ himself, but the little Skip won’t listen to me. Here—got some green tea for ya. Ain’t got nothin’ else around the house ‘cuz Fumi won’t go shoppin’.”
“Ey, ey! Don’t expose me in front of the kids!” Nekomata yelled from the kitchen where a TV can be heard.
“I’ll keep exposin’ ya until ya go shoppin’!” Ukai yelled back. “Anyway, Skip here’s a harder worker than most adults. Seen ‘em sleepin’ standin’ up once.”
“Only one time!”
Ukai snorted. “Only had to be one time!”
Tetsurou learned that Ukai himself was a registered Grandmaster that recently fell out of favour with the National Karate Association after he’d said some unfavourable things about the Dons. Without a pension or job, he was forced to move in with his old friend, Nekomata Yasufumi. In his spare time, he taught strays karate in the concrete court at the back of the house. When Daichi showed it to him, all he saw was a small area no bigger than a six-square patch of concrete. A couple sandbags were piled to the back, along with wooden blocks and two metal pipes crudely connected by a piece of wire to make nunchaku.
“You should come by some time!” Daichi said. “Ukai-sensei’s classes run every day from 8am.”
His eyes went from the sandbags and wood blocks to the bruises and Band-aids littering Daichi’s body. “Think I’ll pass. Kinda not into lookin’ like a mummy.”
Daichi huffed. “Nobody said you had to. Only advanced students get to use the equipment anyway—and only if you want to.”
“Still think I’ll pass.”
“Have it your way.”
Tetsurou still came to watch the next day. Then the next. And then the next. Turned out, Daichi carried around his karategi and his orange belt in his sack, and slept on the deck outside Ukai and Nekomata’s house. The old men kept grumbling that he should either sleep inside the house or scram, but Daichi did neither.
On the fifth day of coming to watch Daichi train, Tetsurou finally gave up and joined in. The classes were free. May as well learn to defend himself, right?
It was only meant as a distraction. A passing interest. He expected to get bored eventually and move on to something else, but as the classes continued, he found enjoyment in it.
He and Daichi became fast friends. He was also eight. In his spare time (as in, when he wasn’t killing himself training) Daichi would traverse South Side helping any strays in need and invite them to join Ukai’s classes.
“We need to help each other,” Daichi asserted. “The streets are dangerous. If we don’t look out for one another then we’ll all drown.”
Tetsurou didn’t know it at the time, but he took Daichi’s philosophy to heart, and he too would go around helping strays—only he’d do it on his home turf in West Side. This was how he met and became friends with Kai and Yaku, who were running from poachers who were on the prowl for young strays.
At just ten-years-old, Daichi started entering tournaments.
Even though Daich’d had a head start, Tetsurou was extremely competitive, and trained harder to keep up with him. He was good at karate, but he had nowhere near the level of passion Daichi had. When echoes of ‘The Young Grandmaster’ began to make ripples in the martial arts scene, Tetsurou knew then that trying to be as good as Daichi would be a fool’s errand.
They went to government charity schools in different districts. At around fourteen he got into other forms of martial arts like taekwondo and kung fu, and then graduated to weapon-based forms of combat like kendo and archery. His true love wouldn’t find him until he held his first sniper though—but that wouldn’t be for a few more years.
At fifteen, he started a pack with Yaku and Kai. He wanted Daichi to join too, but he didn’t want to leave South Side (he insisted it was because he loved his neighbourhood too much, but Tetsurou reckoned it was an omega).
Then Ukai died weeks before Daichi earned the official title of ‘Grandmaster’.
It didn’t come as a shock, since his health had been bad for a while, but they were still broken up by it. Not long after that, Don Ushijima was killed and her son assumed the throne and demanded Daichi join his pack. Daichi refused, and instead of being given the glory and prestige afforded to a true grandmaster, he was condemned to a life of poverty in San Tokyo’s lowest tier.
That’s when Daichi started drinking. They fought more in that six months after Ukai’s death than in the entirety of their friendship.
But it got better. Tetsurou met Kenma, who’d become his best friend. Daichi started dating an omega (aka the reason Daichi wouldn’t come to West Side, but Tetsurou forgave him for it), and then soon after established his own pack and opened a dojo. While he felt a little guilty over moving on to guns, it gave him some solace that Daichi was keeping the spirit of Ukai’s love for karate alive.
*
Daichi’s fist goes for Onikoube’s ribcage at the same time the man swings his leg to deliver a roundhouse, forcing him to pull back his fist and use to his arm to block it. They back up to create distance between them. Sweat drips down Daichi’s forehead and stings the corners of his eyes.
They’ve been sparring for hours. When his classes come to a close, he stays until the early hours of the morning training for the upcoming tournament. His first match will be in a few days’ time.
“You’re still too tentative,” Washijyou growls. “You’re meant to put as much pressure on your opponent as possible so that they lose their bearings. Breathing time gives them opportunity to plan their next attack!”
Knowing that his body is at its absolute limit, he recognises that he can’t continue on tonight. Using his tiredness as an excuse wouldn’t go down well with Washijyou, so instead he turns and bows in his coach’s direction.
“I apologise! I’d like to finish training for tonight.”
“Ah, you would, would you? Alright then. Don’t come crying to me when you lose your first match on Thursday.”
“Thank you!”
Daichi and Onikoube bow to one another. Washijyou huffs, collecting his things and heading for the exit.
“No slacking next time,” the old man snaps at Daichi over his shoulder.
He only bows in response, keeping his eyes firmly on his shoes until he hears the sound of the doors swinging shut.
Onikoube snickers. “You’re way too nice to that old bastard.”
Straightening, Daichi uses his towel to mop up his face. “He was recommended to me by Ushijima. I have to assume my progress is being directly relayed back to him.”
“Ah, don’t want to give The Don excuses, eh?”
“Want to avoid it as best I can.”
“Hm. Well if it’s any consolation, I thought the spar was good. You were a little hesitant with your blows, but I chalked that down to you going easy on me.”
Daichi laughs. “No, I wouldn’t insult you like that.”
Onikoube smirks, ruffling the younger man’s hair. “Always polite. Wouldn’t expect any less of the Young Grandmaster. Hey—why don’t we go get some ramen? I know a great place on the 140th floor that I reckon you’ll like.”
“Maybe another time, I have some stuff to do.”
Onikoube departs, leaving Daichi to clean up the dojo before locking up. He doesn’t usually bother changing out of his gi, since he goes straight back to the apartment to shower, but this time he’s brought a change of warm clothes.
Outside, the floor is relatively quiet. Not completely quiet, since there are a few places still open, but classes for the most part won’t resume until the next day.
Instead of taking the elevator up, he goes all the way down to the ground floor level and takes the western exit. Guards who look bored out of their minds greet him at the gate leading to Middle Tokyo. Their eyes barely graze the pass he flashes at them. They let him through with a cursory nod. He counts himself lucky that Ushijima never thought to confiscate it from him after losing his leader status.
Late autumn seeps into his clothes as he descends the staircase. He has to admit, it’s nice to feel the weather again. Nobody is around, save for a lone figure leaning against his parked motorbike.
Tetsurou’s lips coil into a grin as he approaches. Daichi pulls him into a hug, and the two friends embrace and pat each other as if to say: “Good to see you’re still alive!”
“You got a preference to where you wanna go?” Tetsurou asks as Daichi settles onto the seat behind him.
He shrugs. “You know Middle Tokyo better than I do.”
“Alright, but giving me this responsibility means you can’t complain if you don’t like it.”
“Where do you have in mind?” he asks suspiciously. “It’s not karaoke, is it?”
Tetsurou revs his engine. “Karaoke? Please, I know you have the voice of a constipated banshee.”
“Thanks,” Daichi says sarcastically.
“Nah, we’ll go some place cool.” Then he turns to give him the thumbs up. “Leave it to me.”
“Oh god.”
Tetsurou kicks the stand and they take off down the empty street, the drone of the motorbike’s engine bouncing off the skyscrapers. Daichi clings to Tetsurou’s waist and pretends they’re adhering to road safety protocol. In all his time as a motorcyclist, Tetsurou has never once worn protective gear. The way he sneers at it, it’s as if he thinks helmets and padded jackets are an attack on his manhood (don’t get him started, they’ve argued about it many times).
They zoom through sleepy suburban areas and secluded shopping districts until they eventually stop at a dive bar on the edge of a club strip. It’s Monday. None of the clubs are open, but for lonely bars such as the one Tetsurou stops at, closing hours are a loose concept.
“‘The Singing Swordfish’?” Daichi reads aloud.
Tetsurou shrugs. “The owner used to be a sailor or something.”
Inside, there are only about three other people including the bartender. A lone woman in her fifties nurses a whisky at the bar, and another man in a corner lightly snoozes with a moustache wet with beer foam.
Fishing memorabilia embellishes every crevice of the dingy bar, from the fish nets hanging from the ceiling, to the swordfish plaque mounted on the wall above the shelves of alcohol.
“Sake?” Tetsurou asks the bartender as they slide into a booth.
The bartender brings over the sake and two shot glasses.
Daichi gulps. “I-I’ll just have water.”
“You heard ‘em, get some water for the man! He’s thirsty!”
“Shut up, Tetsurou!”
Tetsurou smirks. “Good to know you’re still on the wagon, Young Grandmaster. I would’ve thought living under the same roof as Ushijima would drive you straight back into liquor’s embrace.”
“Loosely on the wagon is more accurate,” Daichi grunts. “Drank the day Tendou found me conspiring with Oikawa, then drank again with Koushi the day we found out we were leaving Lower Tokyo for good. I just don’t want to drink the week of my tournament. Can’t leave any room for error—not with Ushijima breathing down my neck.”
“Fair enough.”
The sharpshooter is beaming as he pours himself some sake. “But man, I’m so glad you’re alive. You had me seriously scared for a second there!”
Daichi sighs. “They took away our phones and they monitor all our purchases.”
“Yeah, I figured that. But you’re lucky I’m the brains of this friendship.”
“It was Kozume who had the idea to give Shouyou the burner.”
Tetsurou pouts. “Let me live, will ya?”
“No.”
The bartender comes back with a glass of room-temperature water and a bowl of salted nuts.
“How has big bad Ushijima been treating you lot, eh? Did he implant chips into your arms and have you on leashes around the apartment?”
Daichi’s lips pinch downwards. “The Don doesn’t interact much with his own pack. He has his own separate apartment on another level, and mostly communicates with us through a speaker or on the phone.”
“Huh.” Tetsurou blows his fringe out of his eye. “Guess that shouldn’t surprise me. Never struck me as a guy who likes keeping people close.”
“Things are as I feared, though. His love for tradition and hierarchy haven’t changed at all. He might even be worse, but that could just be because he has omegas now. There were no omegas in his pack back then, do you remember?”
“A whole pack of alphas wasn’t it?” Kuroo shakes his head. “Not that I’d be complaining, but that’s no way to balance a pack. Too many strong opinions and not any betas or omegas to keep the peace. Surprise they didn’t implode the first few weeks together.”
“Well at the time, he’d only just seized power. I guess if he was desperate to establish himself as a real threat to this city, he had to do it using sheer domination.”
“How’re the rest of his pack?”
Daichi grimaces, taking a sip of his water. “Either intelligent, deadly, methodical, crazy, or all of the above.”
“Even the omegas?”
“Even the omegas.”
Tetsurou knocks back a shot and grumbles, “Again, not surprising. How are your flock of crows holding up?”
“They’re …” Daichi exhales through the nose. “They’re keeping it together, but only just.”
His friend nods, genuinely sympathetic for once. “Guess in these times you just gotta live things day by day.”
“Mm.”
“But I didn’t just ask you out so you could bask in my presence,” Tetsurou says, leaning forward with a keen eye turned suspiciously to the other patrons in the bar. “There’s something we need to talk about.”
Daichi’s eyebrows shoot up. “There is?”
He nods. “There’ll be a Gathering of the Tides come the end of spring.”
“A what?”
“It’s an annual meeting where all three of the city’s Dons congregate under a banner of truce to discuss politics and negotiate power. Every year, there’s always an exchange—a Don wants more territory in exchange for money, or they want shares in a company controlled by another Don—that kind of stuff. At least, that’s how it used to be.”
Leaning in, Daichi asks, “It’s not anymore?”
“One of the Dons refuses to budge on any negotiations since they’ve come to power.”
“Ushijima?”
Tetsurou nods. “Any and all proposals he’s been presented with have been shot down without fail. For deals on territory, say—if the West Don and East Don negotiate their own territories and the South Don disagrees, they’re allowed to veto the exchange even if their territory isn’t directly impacted by the deal. Every time the other Dons have tried doing this, Ushijima has vetoed their negotiations.”
“Why?”
“Dunno. He never gives a reason. It drives Bokuto up the wall.”
“So this essentially puts negotiations in a deadlock?”
“Correct.”
Leaning back in his chair, Daichi takes in the information. “If Don Ushijima is so against negotiations of power, then why …?”
Tetsurou hums. “It makes his interest in Chibi-chan all the more puzzling, doesn’t it? But don’t let your initial impressions of Ushiwaka confuse you, Daichi. His composure gives off the vibe that he’s rational and cool, but beneath the surface there’s the shadow of a psychopath. He shuts down all negotiations for a reason. He gets off on the power.”
“He’s got to be the one holding all the cards.”
“Exactly.” A dark look passes across Tetsurou’s face. “Be cautious. Any slight against his authority could be the last mistake you ever make.”
“You seem to know him better than I do,” Daichi muses.
“I saw him shoot a man once outside the place where the Dons congregate. It was one of his own men.”
“From his pack?”
Tetsurou shrugs. “Don’t think so. Just a hired bodyguard I think. Guns aren’t allowed inside, so when he was finished shooting the guy dead, he handed over his weapon still warm.”
*
Tooru stares at the blurry-eyed hag sitting across from him, becoming increasingly unnerved by the smile permanently wrinkling her face. Next to him, Hajime twists a cigarette between his fingers, a neat line of smoke rising to settle amongst the trinkets and weapons hanging from the ceiling. Light halos the table in the centre of the room, casting everything else in pitch darkness save for the occasional blinking of lights from incomprehensible machinery.
Another elderly woman sits on a stool half her size at the head of the table. A sniper is lain out on the table in front of her. She grips it with her mechanical hand and tinkers with her other. She’s humming to swing music she has playing softly in the background.
“Iwa-chan,” Tooru cups a hand over his mouth and whispers.
“What?” Hajime uses his normal, indoor voice.
“The hag won’t stop staring at me.”
“Just ignore her.”
“Don’t mind Aiko,” Chiyo mutters, delicately twisting the screwdriver in her hand. “She gets that way sometimes with guests.”
Tooru stares back at Aiko, unnerved by her vacant expression. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Ain’t nothin’ wrong with me, boy,” Aiko croaks, making Tooru jump. “Mah mojo’s brewin’.”
“Your what?” Tooru shrieks, mortified.
“Mah mojo!” Aiko pulls her lips back in a gummy grin, showing off the gaps in her teeth.
Chiyo adjusts the monocled microscope she has fitted over one of her eyes. “It’s what she calls her visions.”
“Visions?” Tooru echoes.
“Aiko-chan fancies herself a soothsayer.”
“I am a soothsayer,” Aiko asserts with a chipper demeanour.
“This again. If you’re a real soothsayer, why am I still workin’ well into my seventies?”
“Can’t go spoilin’ the magic by commercialising mah gift! We ain’t no capitalist dogs like those poodles up there in them towers! Besides, you ever known mah mojo to be wrong?”
Tooru curses their timing.
Chiyo is one of the most renown gun experts in Lower Tokyo—maybe even in the whole of San Tokyo. He’s been coming here for gun modifications for years, but he’d never met her other half. They’re an omega couple. Not strange but certainly uncommon. Now that he’s had the misfortune of being acquainted with Aiko, he’s starting to appreciate all the times he’d come when she wasn’t here.
It isn’t that Aiko is a bad person per se. She just gives off an icky feeling. Like a bog witch that stews toads in a cauldron for breakfast.
Chiyo isn’t exactly a looker either, but at least she brushes her hair.
“What’re you seeing?” Hajime askes Aiko out of boredom.
Aiko shrieks gleefully and Chiyo sighs. “Now you’ve done it.”
“Done what?”
“Gone and encouraged her. This won’t be good.”
“Shh, shut up! Let me have my fun.”
Chiyo glares at Aiko through her monocle. “You scared away my last customer with your mojo bullshit. What’s gonna pay for your ice-cream mochi addiction when all the money dries up, ey? This is why I keep you hidden.”
“Ah, come off it!” Aiko waves her hand as if swatting away a fly. “The man was no fun. So I told him his death was imminent. Ain’t that how death works?”
“Still! Just because you could say it, don’t mean you should.”
“She really is a spoiled sport. Say—pretty boy, wanna let me read your palm? I got a good feeling you’ll hear something lucky!”
Resting his cheek in his hand, Tooru says, “I should warn you, ‘baa-chan. I’m not much of a believer in the mystic arts. Unless you’re going to tell me there’s a throne in my near future, I’m not interested.”
Flexing her tattooed fingers as if eager to snatch up Tooru’s hand, she replies: “Ya never know unless ya try, no?”
Tooru looks at Hajime. All his friend does is shrug. Hm! So unhelpful!
“Fine.”
The moment his hand slides across the table, the woman grabs him. She yanks hard enough that he topples over, his stool clattering to the floor.
“Hey!”
“Oh don’t be a baby!”
Her calloused fingers flatten out his palm and trace across the creases and lines as if reading from a tome. Every now and then she’ll make an ‘ahh’ or an ‘oh!’ sound. Tooru has no choice but to half-lie across the table with his cheek pressed against the cool stainless steel, feeling very put-out by the whole situation. At this angle, he can still see Hajime’s smirk.
“You’re a lucky man!” Aiko finally releases Tooru.
He wipes his hand on his jacket before assuming his place on the stool. “Well? Does your mojo have a crown in it? If it doesn’t I’m going to be very upset.”
Aiko beams. “You’re gonna fall in love!”
Tooru and Hajime stare at the woman. Then Tooru whines. “That’s it?”
Aiko nearly falls off her chair. “Th-That’s—! What do you mean, ‘that’s it’? Do you know how many people would kill to fall in love?”
“Hag, I don’t have time for such distractions! If you read my palm properly, you’d know that I’m destined to be the next Don of South Side. I won’t believe you if you say otherwise.”
“Didn’t see nothin’ ‘bout that,” the soothsayer’s eyebrows pull into a frown.
Tooru puffs out his cheeks. “Guess you’re losing your sight.”
“Mah eyes work just fine, brat! Love awaits you in ya future whether ya like it or not. It’ll be so strong that it will shift the path of ya destiny irreversibly!”
“Yeah, yeah—thanks for the heads up. Now I know not to fall in love with anybody and just keep doing what I’m doing.” He pokes his tongue out. Yes it’s petty, what of it?
“And they call ya the Demon Sharpshooter of South Side,” Aiko scoffs. “A welp of a boy ya are! Can’t even accept love when it’s served up on a silver platter! Ya really have no shame.”
“Oikawa? Having no shame?” Hajime snorts. “Can’t say anything about visions, but that description is pretty spot on.”
“Iwa-chan!”
“Don’t ‘Iwa-chan’ me! You’re the one cold-hearted enough to turn your back on love.”
“What’s the matter? Scared I’ll fall for you?”
“I’d rather you didn’t. I prefer to date people with their heads screwed on properly.”
Tooru pouts. “See how my packmate treats me? This is emotional abuse!”
“It’ll turn into physical abuse if you’re not careful.”
“Cruel! Too cruel!”
“Alright,” Chiyo interrupts the banter as she sets aside her tools and swings the monocle out of her face. “Made all the mods and adjustments you asked for. Anything else you need from me today?”
Tooru hops up and snatches the rifle, looking everything over with a glimmer of excitement. “This should do me just fine. You’re the best, ‘baa-chan!”
Chiyo snorts. “You only ever get sweet on me when you’re rewarded.”
“Do not!”
“That’s Shittykawa for you.”
“Iwa-chan!”
“Let me know when you’ve found your love!” Aiko calls once they’ve paid and halfway out the door.
His eyebrow twitches, but he keeps his voice perfectly melodic. “Keep dreaming, hag!”
Notes:
Honestly, I feel like a farmer sitting on my porch waiting for my seeds to grow XD IT'S TAKING AWHILE BUT I PROMISE THERE WILL BE PAY-OFFS!
Chapter 19: Friend or Foe
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The planks of plywood groan and snap with each wrench of the crowbar. Splinters litter the limestone at their feet, and loosened nails go bouncing into puddles of grey snow. Hajime’s breath comes out in great puffs of steam with each plank he yanks from the doorframe, beads of sweat cooling on his forehead. Matsun and Makki hang back smoking cigarettes, burlap sacks empty at their feet.
Tooru looks up and down the alley with nostalgic distaste. It’d been years since he’d been down this small crack of existence in the heart of South Lower Tokyo, but it may as well have been a completely different alley altogether.
It used to be clean—or as clean as alleys could be, anyway. There wasn’t scum collecting around the perimeter or broken needles strewn haphazardly about, nor was there a smell resembling a market full of rotting fish. That was months ago now. Winter had come, chasing away the happiness and warmth that used to reside here. It felt wrong. Like standing in the resting place of forgotten memories that didn’t belong to you. On the wall opposite the door were chalk drawings and names of the previous residents. The person was no artist. They had all the grace of a toddler’s scribbles, but the love was evident.
Kindaichi eased the moving truck into the alley, its hollow interior exposed. The fit was so tight that Kindaichi wouldn’t be able to open the door to get out—not that they needed him to.
The last plank of wood hits the floor and Hajime kicks open the front door with all the grace of a raging chimpanzee. A plume of stale air hits the four of them in the face.
Tooru scowls. “Gross!”
Matsun sighs. “Let’s just get this over with.”
There isn’t a surface inside the apartment that isn’t covered in a thin layer of dust. The place hadn’t been abandoned long, but it held itself with the presence of a house abandoned for many years. Matsun yanks down a staircase from the ceiling and he and Makki go upstairs to clear the furniture. Hajime sweeps the bathroom and kitchen, yanking open cupboards and stuffing his sack full of whatever he can get his hands on.
Tooru takes the bedroom. The entrance is a double-doored fusuma, with pretty illustrations of mountains inked into its surface. It’s the only fancy thing in the whole apartment. Futons have been stacked neatly in one corner of the room. All the closet doors were closed, as if the previous residents wanted to make things as tidy as possible for the people replacing them.
He started with the contents in the closets. Most of it was clothes and shoes. It wasn’t long before his sack was filled to the brim, and he had to swap it out for an empty one half a dozen times. Sure, leave him with the task of cleaning out a closet full of an entire pack’s clothes!
Once the clothes and shoes were cleared, he moved on to the smaller stuff. Board games, a few books, school bags, and—to his horror—a secret stash of dirty magazines. Who knows how many dirty teenage hands have touched its pages! He put those in the disposable trash bag Hajime had left by the front door. Once there was nothing left but naked coat hangers and a stray sock or two, he moved on to loading the futons onto the back of the truck. His skin crawled imagining all the microscopic critters hiding in their folds. He tries not to think too hard about it.
As he’s lifting the last futon, something falls out of it. He screams, thinking it might be a rat. Then he calms down when he realizes it’s just a dumb plushie.
He breathes a sigh of relief.
Dropping the futon, he picks up the plushie to inspect it. It’s a rabbit. It doesn’t look to be all that old either. On the tag its owner had written ‘Happy’ on one side, and the initials ‘HS’ on the other.
“I heard a scream. You see a spider?” Hajime comes up behind him. Tooru doesn’t turn to acknowledge him. “Oh—a soft toy. You should put that in the donation bag. I think Hanamaki has it.”
“No, I think I’ll keep this one,” Tooru says, tucking the rabbit under his arm and grinning. “I have a feeling its owner is missing him dearly.”
*
They meet in the janitor’s closet near the eastern stairwell once a week. Even though they’re both tiny omegas, they still have to sit with their knees to their chest just to fit comfortably. There’s not always a constant flow of conversation. Kenma isn’t the talkative type, so Shouyou fills the silence with whatever is on his mind at the time. When he isn’t talking, he has a pensive look on his face, like the future scares him.
“Ne, Kenma?”
Shouyou taps his foot against Kenma’s. The older omega burrows his face further into his arms.
“Hm?”
“Who marked you?”
Kenma peeks out from his arm. Shouyou has his head cocked to the side. It’s very cute. “A friend.”
Shouyou blinks. “A friend? Just a friend?”
Kenma nods.
“Are they a packmate?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I don’t understand. I thought only—you know—partners did that stuff. Like, partners who kiss each other and like—stuff …”
“You mean romantic partners.”
“Yeah!”
Subconsciously, he reaches to touch his mark, the pebbly flesh cooler than the skin surrounding it. “I asked them to mark me after I Presented as an omega.”
“Ah, for protection,” Shouyou deduces, nodding his head.
“Yes, but I also didn’t want to be a white pin. Too much attention and drama.”
Shouyou rolls his eyes. “That’s fair. But being marked is a bit … much, right? Like a mark is permanent. You could’ve lost the white pin by just having sex.”
“Well that option’s not on the table.”
“How come?”
“Because I’m asexual.”
“A-what now?”
If he were talking to anybody else, Kenma might’ve been annoyed. But Shouyou leans forward, his eyes earnest, and he feels his heart melting like an ice cube on the hood of a car in the baking summer.
“Asexual,” he repeats patiently. “It means I’m not interested in sex.”
Shouyou glances at the door, then whispers, “You can do that?”
“Of course.”
“But!” Shouyou pulls out his hair in frustration. “How? What’s going through your head when you’re in heat or—or like, around an alpha that’s in rut?”
Kenma quirks his eyebrow as if the answer is obvious. “I masturbate?”
“How can you not be interested in sex but still masturbate?”
“I don’t see masturbation as an inherently sexual thing. It’s like, what I do to relieve stress. That’s it. It’s no more special than eating food for energy or exercising to get fit.”
Shouyou rests his chin on Kenma’s knees, hugging him around his calves. “Wow … I wish I was as cool as you, Kenma.”
“There’s nothing ‘cool’ about asexuality.” He toys with one of Shouyou’s apricot curls. “It’s just one big fat inconvenience to be honest. Every where I go I have to explain myself, excuse myself … Sometimes I think life would be easier if I faked my sexuality.”
“No!” Shouyou gasps, big brown eyes glimmering. “You can’t do that! You’re such a badass, Kenma! People are all like—” he scrunches his eyebrows to look comically serious “—‘omegas have to find good alphas and have lots of babies’, but you’re like—‘nah’ and that’s like—bwaaa! You know?”
“Sure.”
Shouyou grins, and Kenma fights down the blush creeping onto his face.
The door suddenly swings open and Shouyou jumps back, smacking his head against the wall of the closet. “Ouch!”
“Shouyou, are you—”
“So this is where you’ve been sneaking off to!” Kenma looks up and (much to his annoyance) finds Lev standing there. Tora and Inuoka peek out from behind him like they were too scared to open the door themselves.
“You idiots.”
Lev’s eyes fall to Shouyou, who’s busy rubbing the spot where he hit his head. The recognition is delayed, but as soon as the silver-haired beta puts two and two together, he dramatically gasps.
“That’s—!” but he isn’t given a chance to finish that thought before Tora shoves them into the closet.
There’s an uncomfortable tangle of limbs, and a few aching toes before they’re able to situate themselves in a way where nobody’s getting squashing against the door. It was cramped when it was just the two of them, but now it’s suffocating.
“Get out,” Kenma groans.
“Not until you explain why you’re in a closet with the Karasuno boy!” Tora growls.
“Or is it ‘Shiratorizawa boy’ now?” Lev asks with a finger to his chin.
“Nice to meet you, I’m Inuoka Sou!” Inuoka offers his hand to Shouyou, and Shouyou shakes it.
“H-Hinata Shouyou.”
“Oh, we knew that already.”
Shouyou blinks.
“Yeah! Our leader told us to stay the hell away from you,” Lev chirps.
“Okay then.”
“Get. Out.”
“Pudding Head! Answer the question!” Tora persists.
Kenma sighs. “If I explain it, then will you go away?”
“I’ll consider it.”
“I make no promises,” Lev says. “It’s quite cosy in here.”
“Ugh, shut up Lev!”
“You’re so mean to me Kozume-senpai!”
“I told you not to call me that!”
“Kenma!”
He pins his packmates with a glare. “I’m not allowed to be seen talking to Shouyou, so there. That’s why we’re in the closet.”
Tora sighs. “Kenma … I’ll have to tell Kuroo about this.”
“He already knows.”
His packmates blink. “He does?”
“Yep.”
Inuoka whines. “You two never tell us anything!”
“That’s because you’re all a bunch of big-mouthed idiots.”
Inuoka sniffs. “Just because it’s the truth, doesn’t mean you have to say out loud.”
“So, Hinata, what class are you?” Lev asks.
“You don’t have to talk to them,” Kenma groans. “If you ignore them, they’ll eventually get bored and leave.”
Shouyou smiles. “It’s fine. I’ve always wanted to meet your pack—Rooster Head was kinda scary though. I’m glad he doesn’t go to school with you.”
“Rooster Head?” Tora snorts. “You mean Kuroo? Oh man, I’m gonna start calling him that now. It’ll drive him crazy!”
“Kuroo’s a big baby once you get to know him. He only acts tough around strangers,” Inuoka reassures.
Shouyou doesn’t believe a single word that just came out of his mouth. “Anyway, I’m first-year Class 3.”
“Oh cool! Inu-chan and me are in Class 2.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen you around.”
“You have?”
“You’re kinda hard to miss,” Shouyou explains good-naturedly.
Lev laughs. “It’s true! I keep hitting my head on the door frames because they’re built for little people!”
“You’re in the giant minority, Lev.” Inuoka rolls his eyes.
“We’re on the basketball team together!”
“Yes, but there’s tall, and then there’s tall, you read me?”
“Jealous much?”
“Nu-uh.”
“Ya-huh!”
Inuoka bumps Shouyou’s shoulder. “You should come watch us play sometime, Hinata. Or you could try out for the cheerleading squad. I hear they’re looking for first-years to join.”
“I prefer to play sports than watch them.”
“Oh really? You any good?”
Shrugging, the ginger grins. “Guess we could find out.”
“Oh ho! This one’s got guts! I like it!” Inuoka throws an arm around Shouyou and ruffles his hair.
“Don’t touch him, idiot!” Tora snaps. “If he leaves smellin’ like an alpha, Shiratorizawa’s gonna start asking questions!”
“Ah, sorry! My bad! I forget about pheromones sometimes! Anyway—come by after practice and we can shoot a few hoops.”
“My packmate has been thinking of joining the team. Do you mind if I bring him along?”
“The more the merrier!”
“Great!”
“This sounds like a terrible idea,” Kenma mutters, tugging at a bleached strand of hair. “I take no part in this.”
“So we shoot a few hoops,” Lev shrugs. “What’s the worst that can happen?”
*
Kintsuru’s student council is made up of representatives of each class in school. They’re usually the class presidents, or in some cases vice-presidents who act as substitutes if the class president has other obligations or is sick. Unfortunately for Tsutomu, he’s the only omega class president in the entire school. Even worse, he’s a first-year, making his opinions about as appreciated as a mother trying to raise triplets.
While he holds himself with dignity, and ignores the snide comments thrown at him from other class presidents, on the inside he’s mentally wilting away. It takes a lot of energy to care about something that doesn’t care about you.
“As you all know, the money raised for next month’s food festival will be donated to a charity. Principle Osanai has asked us to pick from a list of charities that Sakagami is passing around,” the head of the student council, Miro Shigehiro, announces near the end of the meeting. “Donating to any charity reflects well on our school, so there’s no need for us to be too picky.”
“Do we only choose one?” a beta from second-year asks.
“Yeah, only one.”
Tsutomu doesn’t expect anything to jump out at him when he’s passed the list. There are the usual suspects: hospitals, cancer research, a pound, humanitarian aid to countryside towns. There aren’t any charities listed that help the struggling communities in Lower Tokyo, though. It’s awful, but the needs of their city’s impoverished are rarely taken into consideration. Upper Tokyoites know that they only get to stand on their pedestals because they’re balanced on people beneath them, and any efforts to close that gap is a direct threat to the way they understand the world.
But one of the charities does catch his eye. A relief fund that goes towards omegas and children in domestic abuse situations. As a stray, domestic abuse hits too close to home.
“Just give it to the animal shelter,” an alpha says. She’s a third-year student. “Helping animals is always good for publicity. We could even send the photography club over there to snap a few photos of the cuter ones to put in the school newspaper.”
“I think we should put it towards cancer research. My uncle has cancer, so I think it would make things a little more sentimental,” another student—a first-year—throws in his two cents.
“No, I like Takeno’s idea best. Cancer is too depressing, and we don’t want to bum out the people visiting the festival. Besides, everyone likes pictures of animals,” Miro says.
Tsutomu wets his lips, fisting the fabric of his pants. He wants to speak up but his heart is in his throat.
“I also have a friend in the writing club who could write a small story about it to go with the pictures,” a second-year says.
“Good. So we’re all in agreement?”
His hand shoots up, adrenaline spiking through his veins. “Actually, I-I have—”
“That settles it. We’ll pick up where we left off on the festival’s campaign next week. You all have a nice week.”
The room is filled with the screeching of chairs as students move to leave. Tsutomu remains seated, the paper still in his hands.
When he finally shuffles out into the hallway, it’s buzzing with playful banter and reckless activity, as is expected during lunch. Tsutomu doesn’t pay much attention as he makes his way from third-year territory over to first-year, unable to comprehend the shock of rejection. He’d spoken clearly. His hand was up. There was no way they could’ve missed him, but he still went ignored.
His position is one big joke.
Caught up in his own welling anger, he almost doesn’t notice the lanky monstrosity that is Haiba Lev: Nekomata’s newest addition.
That is, until he hears the familiar holler of one Hinata Shouyou.
He turns and sees Lev, along with Koganegawa Kanji, speaking amicably to Yamaguchi and Shouyou.
Clutching his diary, he marches straight up to them and smacks Lev in the arm. The first-year giant shrieks like a girl. “Get—” smack “—away—” smack “—from—” smack “—them!”
“G-G-Goshiki!” the Nekomata kid chokes.
“You aren’t allowed to talk to South Side rogues! Get lost, or I’ll have Don Ushijima serve your head on a silver platter!”
Lev screams bloody murder and runs away so fast he leaves a trail of dust in his wake. Koganegawa tries phasing into the wall but Tsutomu yanks him by his school tie. “And you! What are you doing conspiring with West Side scum? You plotting to take down Ushijima?”
“No! Oh my god! Never!”
Tsutomu shakes him. “Then what were you doing talking to him?”
“We’re on the same basketball team!”
“Listen you—” he pulls the alpha closer until their noses are almost touching “—Kintsuru has two basketball teams, so I want you to go find your coach right now and demand a transfer to the other team.”
“But why?” Koganegawa whines. “I get along so well with everyone on my current team!”
“Don’t care. Do it, or I’ll make sure Aone regrets ever considering having you as a packmate.”
“Ugh, fine!”
He releases the Date brat. Koganegawa pats down the creases in his uniform with a pout. Tsutomu then turns his eyes to Yamaguchi and Shouyou, who at this point are pale with fear.
“You two!”
They squeak.
“We were talking about basketball, that’s it I swear!” Yamaguchi cries.
“Tadashi wants to join the basketball team!” Shouyou says at the same time.
“And Shouyou wants to join too!” Yamaguchi adds. The ginger whirls around and slaps the beta across the shoulder. “Ow!”
“You weren’t supposed to tell him that!”
“Oh. Oops.”
“Shouyou …” his voice goes quiet as he pins the omega with a glare. “We agreed you’d join the ikebana club.”
Shouyou pouts. “But I don’t know anything about flowers or flower arranging!”
“It isn’t about what you want or what you’re good at. It’s about what The Don approves of.”
“But Hinata is really good at basketball. You should see him jump! I’ve never seen anything like it!” Koganegawa contributes, even though Tsutomu really wishes he wouldn’t.
He’s burned through the pent-up anger from the student council meeting, and no longer has the energy to fuel this conversation. His shoulders drop, and he gives a tired sigh.
“Shouyou, I know you’re good at sports. It’s just not what Ushijima wants for you,” he explains as gently as he can.
The ginger looks stuck between submission and outrage, unable to let either side win. Thankfully the bell rings.
“Get to class. I’ll walk you to the ikebana club once school’s over.”
*
It’s relatively secluded under the western stairwell. Since it’d take too much time to transport classes and clubs to the upper levels of the campus for sports activities and assemblies, the stairs were built to alleviate the traffic. Nobody uses them during lunchtime though.
“What did you want to talk to me about?” Tadashi asks.
Hitoka has been acting strange recently. She’s anxious on a regular day, but it’s like her stress just did a line of cocaine and skyrocketed to new levels. Words are forced out through a horrible stutter, she shifts from one foot to the other as if she’s incapable of standing still, and on top of that, she refuses to look Tadashi in the eyes.
“I-I want to uhhh—well the thing is uhhhh—” she slaps her hands against her cheeks. Tadashi flinches.
“Hitoka-chan, you don’t look so good. Are you feeling OK?”
“I’m fine! Totally fine! Hundred-percent functional!” she squeaks.
“You sure? You’re looking a little red …” Tadashi reaches out and places a hand on her forehead. She stumbles back and screams. “Do you have a fever?”
“No!”
“I can take you to the nurse’s office if you like.”
“N-Not sick! I h-have something to tell you!”
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he smiles. “You keep saying that, but you won’t tell me.”
Jumping up and down on the spot, Hitoka looks like she’s bursting with energy but has no way of releasing it. “OK! I’m going to say it! I’m going to—”
Hitoka faints. If Tadashi weren’t standing so close, he might not have caught her in time, but since they’ve become friends he has since learnt to always stand close in case she trips on air. As she lies in his arms, he fans her face with his hand.
“Hitoka-chan! Are you dead? Why’d you faint on me? Is it something I said?”
“No,” Hitoka whispers, her eyes slowly opening. “If I died right now, I’d die happy.”
Tadashi snorts. “Don’t talk like that. You’re not dying!”
Her face goes bright red, then suddenly she tackles Tadashi, her arms locking around his neck. “Tadashi!”
“W-What? What’s wrong?”
“N-Nothing. I just …” She buries her face in Tadashi’s neck, inhaling his scent. He stiffens. “I really like you, Tadashi-kun.”
He somehow has the sense to coil his arms around her tiny body, pulling her close. “That’s all? Jeez, you had me thinking you were suffering from a fatal disease.”
“Eh?” She pulls back. “You’re not surprised?”
Tadashi scratches the back of his head, grinning sheepishly. “No, I knew you liked me.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything!” She shouts, fisting his school shirt. “Did you just want to embarrass me?”
“N-Not at all! I was just—I was going to say something, but recently you’ve been stressed and I didn’t want to add to that.”
“I’ve been stressed trying to come up with ways to confess to you!”
“Well how was I supposed to know that?”
Hitoka giggles, fingering the boy’s collar. “You like me too, right?”
Blushing, Tadashi nods. “I’ve liked you since we first met.”
“That long!” She whines. “You mean we could’ve been dating this whole time? Tadashi!”
“S-Sorry.”
They walk back to class hand in hand, avoiding eye-contact with each other. It doesn’t garner much interest in the second-year hallway, but the moment they turn onto first-year territory the stares are in full-force. It must paint an odd picture: a rogue and a senator’s daughter.
Up ahead, he sees Tsukki coming out of Class 5, which is odd. That’s not their classroom.
“Tsukki?” he calls.
The blonde’s eyes sweep over their clasped hands. He pushes his glasses up his nose and nods. “Congratulations.”
“What were you doing in Hitoka’s classroom?”
“I was looking for Kageyama,” he answers without missing a beat.
The betas share a look. Hitoka blinks. “But … Kageyama isn’t in my class?”
“He isn’t in his classroom, so I was checking to see if he was with you.”
“Oh.”
Without another word, Tsukki leaves, heading in the opposite direction of the classrooms towards the toilets. Hitoka gives him a questioning look, but Tadashi only shrugs.
They enter Hitoka’s classroom, where her friends are sitting eagerly waiting for her. Her lunchbox and her thermos are where she left them by her desk.
“So he said yes?” one of her friends asks.
Hitoka blushes and nods, grabbing her stuff and placing it on the desk where her friends are. Tadashi has already eaten, but he grabs a chair to sit with them. They’re all grinning from ear to ear.
“Congrats, Hitoka!”
“Knew he’d say yes.”
“You two are so cute together!”
Hitoka opens up her lunchbox and nibbles on a bit of egg while the rest of her friends fawn over her. Mochida Emi, the only omega in Hitoka’s friend group, reaches for her thermos and screws off the lid.
“Mind if I have a little bit?”
Hitoka shakes her head. “Not at all.”
“What tea do you have today?”
“Chai, I think.”
“Yum! Your tea’s always the best!”
Emi takes a few sips before screwing the lid back on. Almost immediately she coughs, covering her mouth with the sleeve of her jumper. Kumiko, who’s sitting next to her, slaps her hand against Emi’s back.
Hitoka frowns. Emi’s coughing only gets worse. “Emi, are you—”
But her friend suddenly falls off her chair and spews vomit all over herself. The girls and Tadashi stand up with cries of alarm. Kumiko helps Emi onto her back on the classroom floor, a trail of blood smeared around her nose. Students in the classroom notice the commotion and gather to look.
Hitoka’s cups her hands to her mouth, trembling at Tadashi’s side. He can’t comprehend what’s happening until Kumiko screams: “Someone call the paramedics!”
There’s a hospital on the level midway up No Man’s Tower. Whenever paramedics are called, they use special emergency elevators that operate specifically for law enforcement and medical personnel. Kintsuru High is only a few levels below the hospital, so the paramedics get to Emi within the span of ten minutes.
They wheel her off in a gurney as students stand by to watch. Tadashi holds Hitoka as she whimpers into his chest, extremely upset. Two officers that arrive on the scene confiscate her thermos, suspecting poison as the likely culprit. Seeing as it was Hitoka’s thermos, it’s safe to assume the spiked tea was meant for her.
“Did you see anyone slip something into the thermos?” An officer asks Hitoka and her friends out in the hallway. Class has started, but the teacher is making arrangements to send Hitoka’s class home early.
“I left it unattended for about fifteen minutes,” Hitoka admits sadly. “Anything could’ve happened in that time.”
“We didn’t notice anything unusual either,” Kumiko says. “But we also weren’t paying much attention to what was happening around us …”
“Would anyone have any reason to want to poison you, Yachi-san?” The officer asks.
“I-I don’t know. My mum’s a senator.”
The officer nods. “Senator Yachi, no?”
“That’s right.”
“Hm, if you remember anything important or see anything suspicious that might connect to Mochida’s poisoning, make sure you call this number, OK?” The officer hands them each his business card, and then he and his partner leave.
Tadashi turns to Hitoka once the police are out of sight. “Your mum is Senator Yachi?”
“Yeah? I thought you knew that.”
“N-No I … I didn’t make the connection.” Tadashi turns away so Hitoka can’t see his frown. Senator Yachi has been all over the news lately. She’s a frequent topic of conversation at the dinner table in the Shiratorizawa household. “I’ve gotta get to class. Text me when you get home, yeah?”
When he slips back into class, the teacher stops to ask him how he’s doing. All heads turn in his direction. His eyes meet with Tsukki’s. Dread coils in his gut. A certain intuition takes root in his mind that he wishes would go away.
Emi ends up surviving. Apparently the dose wasn’t enough to kill her, just enough to make her seriously ill.
News of the poisoning made headlines. It’s not Emi’s picture on the front pages, but Senator Yachi’s. The intended victim was revealed to the public, and the media ran wild with speculations as to who would try and poison the senator’s daughter. Though it’s never explicitly stated in any of the articles, most heavily imply that one of the Dons (or all three) were involved in some way.
Tadashi follows Tsukki into the alpha bathroom during Math class.
“You’re not supposed to be in here,” Tsukki says nonchalantly.
He clenches and unclenches his fists, glaring at the blonde. “Cut the crap, Tsukki. Why were you really in Class 5 the other day?”
“What’re you talking about?” He places his glasses on the ledge and splashes his face with water.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. Don’t treat me like an idiot!”
“I’m not. I genuinely don’t know what you’re referring to.”
Barrelling into the alpha, he shoves him up against the wall, gripping the front of his uniform. “Fucking liar! You were the one who poisoned Hitoka’s thermos! Admit it!”
Tsukki’s eyes narrow. “And why would I do that?”
“I don’t know! You tell me!” he snarls.
“Yamaguchi, let go.” He places his hands on Tadashi’s wrists, the grip loose, but tightening the longer he holds on.
“Admit it! I want to hear you say the words!”
“There’s nothing to admit. I didn’t poison Yachi’s thermos.”
He tears his hands away. Tsukki brushes past him to retrieve his glasses, putting them back on.
“You were always a dick,” Tadashi mutters. “But I never thought you’d sink that low.”
Tsukki shrugs. “Why’re you so upset, anyway? Yachi wasn’t the one who got poisoned.”
“She got lucky.”
“She did.”
“Why?” He asks again, his voice cracking. Tsukki turns his back to him so that he can’t see his face. “Why would you do that to her?”
“For the last time, I didn’t do anything,” Tsukki says, but his voice is too calm, too even not to be hiding something. The alpha leaves him in the bathroom without looking back, and Tadashi wonders when Tsukki stopped being Tsukki and started being someone else.
*
“Assassinations aren’t your strong suit,” Tendou crows as he slaps the newspaper down on the table. ‘High School Girl Survives Poisoning’ is strewn across the front page of Upper Tokyo Press. The redhead rubs his chin. “Interesting that the girl lived. I gave you enough cyanide to take down an elephant.”
Tsukishima sighs. “You wanted to send a message. I think senator Yachi got it loud and clear.”
“Very true, Tsuki-poo!”
“So? Does this mean I can visit my mother now?”
Procuring an envelope from inside his jacket, Tendou and hands it over. “One day pass to Middle Tokyo, as promised. Use your time wisely!”
Notes:
GUYS next chapter omg NEXT CHAPTER!!!! It's going to be so intense honestly I'm so excited for you all to read it!! I CAN BARELY CONTAIN MYSELF!!
Chapter 20: Dinner with the Don
Chapter Text
Pleasant humming fills the downstairs bathroom. Steam residue lingers in the air from the hot water, and the spritz of vanilla air-freshener makes the atmosphere feel positively divine. Raising the hand mirror to eye-level, Tooru fiddles with his drying hair. His charming reflection stares back at him and he winks. He then looks up at the mirror above the sink and winks at himself again for good measure.
“What are you doing?”
Angling the mirror in his hand, he catches sight of Hajime by the bathroom door.
“I’m surprised your scowl didn’t shatter my hand mirror, Iwa-chan,” he croons. “A better question would be what are you doing, hm? Walking in on your leader without knocking. You weren’t trying to catch me naked, were you?”
Hajime rolls his eyes. “I did knock. You just didn’t acknowledge it.”
“You did? Oopsie.”
Stepping further in, Hajime closes the door behind him. “You didn’t answer my question.”
“It’s called selfcare. Not a lot of rogues seem to understand the concept.”
“I can see that. I meant why are you—” he gestures up and down his body “—dressed like you’re about to go out?”
“Because I am.”
Tooru turns his full attention back to his mirror. He frowns at the gentle bags beneath his eyes. There was a fire a block away from the house last night. The sirens kept them awake long into the early hours of the morning.
Reacquainting themselves with Lower Tokyo has been a bit of an adjustment. Even after all these months, Tooru’s still reeling from the culture shock.
Hajime crosses his arms over his chest. Uh-oh. He’s got the look of murder on his face again.
Tooru tuts. “You once told me you want to have an omega bride and a family one day. How are you going to do that when the wind changes, and that look is permanently attached to your countenance, Iwa-chan? Wedding photos don’t come cheap, and you’ll end up ruining every one you’re in!”
The scowl deepens into something sinister, and his righthand man marches up behind him to ruffle his hair. “No! Do you know how long I spend on my hair?”
“Too long. Now tell me where you’re going.”
Tooru pouts, salvaging his messy hair as best he can. “I can’t tell you. It’s top secret.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “When have you ever kept a secret from me?”
“It’s a habit I’ve got to start getting into, apparently.”
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
Hajime leans against the wall, regarding him carefully. “What if …” he says slowly “… What if you don’t return? How am I supposed to know if you’re OK?”
“Aw, Iwa-chyan, you’re so cute when you worry! Maybe there’s hope for you after all!”
He goes red in the face. “Stop avoiding my questions!”
“No need to fear. I’ll send you updates throughout the night if it gives you peace of mind.”
“And if you find yourself in danger?”
“I’ll send you the signal.”
Recognition passes across Hajime’s expression. A long time ago, their pack came up with a set of phrases to communicate in case they couldn’t speak openly about something. It’s come in handy quite a few times. Particularly whenever Shiratorizawa are looking over their shoulders, sniffing for anything that might get Seijoh into trouble again.
“When should I be expecting you back?” Hajime follows him to the front door once he’s done getting ready. Tooru slips his feet into a pair of dress shoes and adjusts his scarf.
“A few hours. If you don’t hear from me at around four, you have my permission to start panicking.”
“Bold of you to assume I’ll be waiting up for you.”
“You’re not fooling anyone, Iwa-chan.” Tooru winks at him right before stepping out into the frigid night.
It’s really inconsiderate of them to organise this in the middle of the night in fucking January. Excuse me, sirs, but have you heard of a little-known thing called hypothermia? Snow falls idly from the blackened sky, landing delicately in his hair and his lashes. Though the street they live on is well-lit, it only emphasizes the utter seclusion brought by the dark.
Puffs of mist vanish in air as he glances back at the house over his shoulder.
Tooru is far from an optimist. Their banishment to Lower Tokyo had left a sour aftertaste that still lingers even to this day. But he will say this: the outcome of their punishment could’ve been much worse.
Every neighbourhood in Hell is shitty, but it just so happens that their house is in a neighbourhood less shitty than the others. Strays don’t roam the streets. The houses are small, but tolerable. There’s less cracks in the sidewalk. The other day he strolled past a donut shop that wasn’t covered in graffiti. Their house has a second storey and three bedrooms, two bathrooms and a garage—which is far more than that toy-box of an apartment Karasuno used to call ‘home’. It’s still got nothing on their home in Middle Tokyo (still referred to by his packmates as their actual home, as if their Lower Tokyo residence is temporary); but it’s something, at least.
What would be the worst part about Lower Tokyo? he wonders.
The crackheads? Hm. Their howling in the early morning hours is a bit annoying, but they stay out of Seijoh’s way.
Crime rates? Also an inconvenience, but their security system hasn’t failed them yet.
No, he thinks the worst thing about Lower Tokyo is how ugly everyone is. What’s worse is that most of them wouldn’t even be ugly if they were born anywhere else. They could have good dentists, good hair salons, good retail stores; if only they were richer.
The other day he went hunting for a quality moisturiser and the cashier gave him a look like, “Don’t you have better things to spend your money on?”
Rude. That cashier could’ve benefitted from some moisturiser if he knew how to fucking spell it!
The walk to the gate takes him half an hour. Sure, he could’ve driven, but since Shiratorizawa stopped financing them they’re tight on gas money. He’d rather it was spent getting Hajime to work and back.
A car waits for him when he comes out the other side into Middle Tokyo. Ah, it’s good to be back where I belong. He sidles into the backseat.
His eyes lock with hazel ones in the rear-view mirror.
“Been awhile, Alley Cat.”
“It has, Demon Sharpshooter-san.”
“Did I keep you waiting?”
Kuroo snorts. “About twenty minutes.”
Crossing his arms, he gets comfortable against the luxury leather seats. “Pay back for dragging me out here so late in the evening.”
The digital clock on the dashboard reads 11.45pm.
“You’re the one who agreed to it!”
“I was being polite!”
Sawamura smiles at him from where he sits in the passenger seat. “Thank you for agreeing to meet us.”
“Whatever.” He pokes his tongue out at the Karasuno—no, ex-Karasuno leader.
Kuroo takes them to a bar. It’s sea-themed, but there’s no seafood on the food menu. Tooru makes a face at the swordfish plaque on the wall above the bar while Nekoma’s leader orders a round of drinks.
“I could’ve taken you to a much nicer bar,” Tooru says petulantly.
“Tough luck. You never gave us any recommendations,” Kuroo teases.
Tooru had only dealt with Nekoma’s leader a handful of times. His job, for the most part, involved managing the rogue packs of his own territory, so the West Side very rarely factored into that. He more often hears of Kuroo Tetsurou. In South Side, Tooru is the best sharpshooter at Ushijima’s arsenal. West Side, however, Kuroo holds the same title. ‘The Alley Cat’, South Side rogues call him, for his grace, cunning and strangely hypnotic eyes.
“It was a big favour—asking me to come here,” he tells Sawamura as the bartender puts bottles of beer on the table between them. “If word got back to Shiratorizawa, I may as well call my lawyer and get a will written up. Poor Iwa-chan will be left with all those mouths to feed.”
“I know,” Sawamura smiles guiltily. “I feel personally responsible for your current predicament—”
“As you should! I’d still be living it up here in Middle Tokyo if you hadn’t come begging at my door!”
Sawamura bows and apologises. Just as he had last year after it all went down.
“I already told you, I don’t accept your apology.” OK, that’s not entirely true. The first time Sawamura came to apologise, it was in front of his entire pack. He’d rejected the apology, and then Hajime kicked him in the ribs and forced him to accept it.
But that doesn’t count!
“I promised you back then that I’d make things right, which is why I’ve invited you to meet with us tonight. What I’m about to disclose involves you as well.”
Tooru takes a swig from his beer and leans back in his seat. “I’ll decide whether it involves me of not. Go on then, make your case. I’ve wasted enough time on you already.”
“It’s about the Gathering of the Tides. Since Tetsurou mentioned it to me, I’ve tried my best to gather as much information on the upcoming meeting in May. I’ve learnt some stuff we can use to our advantage.”
He leans forward with interest. “The Gathering of the Tides, you say?”
Sawamura nods. “Since Ushijima has been in power, he’s never once made a deal with any of the other leaders, but this year’s going to be different.”
“He’s going to make an exchange?” Kuroo asks.
“Yes. And I know what he’s going to propose.”
“He told you?” Tooru gapes.
Sawamura smirks and nods. “I made a little deal of my own: if I won the winter tournament, he would answer any and all questions I asked him the next time we dined together.”
Kuroo lets out a belting laugh, slapping his friend on the back. “Well played!”
“That was a bit of a gamble,” Tooru grumbles.
He’d heard through the grapevine of Sawamura’s victory in the tournament. It wasn’t guaranteed. Though Sawamura technically hadn’t hung up his belt, he also hadn’t been training for a tournament since he was sixteen. Other contestants, even the older ones, had much longer to prepare themselves. But Sawamura is still the Young Grandmaster, even after being out of commission for so many years.
It’d come at a cost though. He glances down at Daichi’s hand. Four broken fingers and a twisted ankle, according to his sources. Apparently he’d pretended to be perfectly fine right up until his victory was secured. If the severity of his injuries were made known, he would’ve been forcibly disqualified.
Ugh, Sawamura’s honour disgusts him.
Sawamura makes a furtive glance at his surroundings before lowering his voice. “Don Ushijima intends to make a trade with West Side.”
“He does, does he?” Kuroo grins slyly.
“He’s going to offer Shouyou in exchange for territory.”
Oh Ushijima, you’ve always been so painfully predictable. They all knew from the beginning that The Don would trade Chibi-chan with someone, and why not offer him to one of the highest bidders on the market? Fukuroudani are notoriously lacking in omegas.
Kuroo and Sawamura stare at each other intensely. Then Sawamura asserts: “And Don Bokuto is going to accept the exchange.”
“Hold on—back up. What does any of this have to do with me?” Tooru complains. “You better not have dragged me out here just to tell me that. Like what do you want? A pat on the back? A congratulations?”
“Don Bokuto is going to accept the exchange,” Sawamura reiterates, “but only if he gets Seijoh as well.”
Tooru blinks. “You’re not serious.”
“I am.” Sawamura shoots him a smile. “Bokuto can make the case that trading territory for a white pin is too steep, and that allowing to him recruit one of Ushijima’s sharpshooters into his ranks will make things fairer.”
“He’ll never take the bait! He takes too much joy in watching me and my pack suffer!”
The Nekoma leader side-eyes Sawamura. “And how do you know Bokuto will even agree to it?”
Releasing a fake laugh, the grandmaster throws an arm around Kuroo. “Because you’re going to convince him to say yes, of course!”
“What?! I never agreed to—”
Sawamura grip on his shoulder tightens, a dark shadow passing over his face. “Tetsurou. This will be a testament of our long-standing friendship.”
Kuroo pouts. “Oy, oy! Don’t get all scary on me! Why would you even want this deal to follow through? If Bokuto agrees … you might never see Shouyou again.”
Turning back to his beer, a sadness seeps into the grandmaster’s expression. “I know. I’m betting on it.”
“Why?” Tooru surprises himself with his outburst. “You’re close with all your packmates, aren’t you?”
It pains him to admit it, but Sawamura and Sugawara were able to give Tobio love where Seijoh couldn’t. If they could adore someone as unlikeable as him, surely they reserve the same sentiments to all their other packmates—Shouyou especially.
“Shiratorizawa have stringent views on what an omega should and shouldn’t be. If Shouyou doesn’t fulfil his intended purpose, I fear for the consequences.”
“You’re doing this to save him,” Tooru realises.
Sawamura nods.
“Daichi,” Kuroo says slowly, “I can’t guarantee anything.”
“All I want is for you to try.”
“Did he tell you what territory he was going to ask in exchange?”
“Shinzui.”
“Shinzui?” Kuroo frowned.
“What’s so special about Shinzui?” Tooru asks.
The only thing he’s heard about Shinzui is that it’s a nice place in Middle Tokyo.
“An entrepreneur in Ushijima’s good graces is looking to buy out a residential area and flip it into a set of luxury apartments. Trouble is, she can’t convince the residents to leave their homes, so she’s hoping Ushijima can be a little persuasive.”
“And he can’t do that since Shinzui is out of his jurisdiction,” Kuroo finishes the thought.
Sawamura nods. “He’ll be a profiteer once the department is built, and the entrepreneur will be forever indebted to him for it.”
“Bokuto would be wise to reject the offer,” Tooru sighs. “Ushijima is an ambitious bastard. His campaign to seize control of all the territories starts here with this one little neighbourhood. Soon he’ll be asking for bigger slices of the city.”
“And all for a white pin.” Kuroo shakes his head. “No one is worth that, not even Chibi-chan.”
Sawamura rubs his chin, thinking hard. “Deals are about compromise. Instead of giving Ushijima exactly what he wants, perhaps Bokuto could make the exchange for something smaller? Something that Ushijima can still benefit from, but not enough to make him over-confident.”
“If Ushiwaka wants territory, give him territory,” Tooru says. “But don’t give him Shinzui. I say negotiate for somewhere in West Side’s Lower Tokyo.”
“A place Ushijima can benefit from in Lower Tokyo …” Kuroo ponders. “Anywhere with school districts are out of the question, since it’ll complicate things for rogues who are still underage. That leaves factories and the red-light district.”
“Perfect,” Tooru waves his hands as if the answer is obvious. “Give Ushijima West Side’s red-light district. From what I hear, Don Bokuto holds contempt for that sort of stuff anyway.”
“It still generates a lot of revenue,” Kuroo mutters. “I don’t know … It’ll be a stretch, but I’ll talk it over with Akaashi. He might think of something we haven’t even considered.”
Akaashi Keiji, Don Bokuto’s righthand man (and supposed lover, but he has no way of confirming those rumours). The man is only a beta, but he’s described as having the demeanour and logic of an alpha. The Shadow Man, rogues of the West, South and East Side call him. It’s said he’s the true mastermind behind West Side’s underbelly. It effectively makes Bokuto nothing more than a figurehead, though it would be unwise to underestimate him.
They go through the finer details over a few rounds of beer. At some point during the conversation Sawamura’s phone rings, but the ex-leader turns it off without checking who it is. At three o’clock, Tooru gets a call from Hajime, and that’s when he knows it’s time to head back.
“Well, Dai-chan, if all goes well and I somehow make it out of all this with my head still on my shoulders, I’ll reconsider accepting your apology,” he says as they stand outside the gate leading to Lower Tokyo.
“I’d be glad to hear it.” Sawamura offers his hand, and Tooru shakes it. “If you end up in West Side, please take care of Shouyou for me.”
He snorts, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Who do you take me for, a babysitter?”
“See you at the meeting, Demon,” Kuroo calls from the car.
“Likewise, Pussy-cat!”
“Ew don’t call me that!”
Tooru laughs and waves goodbye, Sawamura’s frown disappearing from sight. So many things to think about! Iwa-chan will be very interested to hear about what he’s learnt.
Sawamura’s parting words follow him on his lonely walk home. He tries to picture a similar scenario in his head, where he’s forced to trade a packmate to keep them safe. Not that his hands are clean when it comes to cherishing every packmate he’s ever had. Tobio-chan would have a few things to say if he tried to contradict that. But he thinks of Karasuno. Their bond, their love for each other. Perhaps he could compare it to his relationship with Hajime: closer than family.
Could he ever trade Hajime …?
Well, he did say once that he would’ve pimped Hajime out if he’d Presented as an omega. With those thighs? Are you kidding? Alphas would be lining up down the street!
But have Ushiwaka trade him? For territory? He’d rather choke on a dead rat while flagellating himself.
There was heartache in the ex-leader’s eyes as he spoke of trading Chibi-chan. Like that of a man giving up his own child. Tooru isn’t the paternal type. In fact, he hates kids. It’s part of why it was so easy to let go of Tobio-chan. But he can empathise—just a tiny bit.
Ushiwaka’s favourite past time is ruining people. Tooru knows this more than most. It’s what he does best. He probably enjoys it too.
But that bastard has taken enough from him. Let him take from someone else for once.
*
“You won’t be coming home tonight?” Koushi adjusts the phone against his ear, the sounds of curt yells and fists against leather pattering in the background.
“I’ve got the meeting.”
“Oh, that’s tonight, is it?” He’d completely forgotten. “What did you tell the others?”
“Just that I was going drinking with Onikoube.”
“Ah, well be careful, ne?”
“I will.”
Koushi gnaws on his bottom lip. “I’m dining with Ushijima tonight.”
There’s a pause, then: “Again?”
“Yeah.”
Another pause. “OK. Let me know how it goes.”
“I will.”
“Alright. I’ve got to go. I think Noya’s taking his authority a little too seriously.”
Koushi chuckles. “OK. I love you.”
“I love you too.”
There’s a dull ache that lingers after he’s hung up. He stares at his phone. It’s been three months and twenty-five days since he and Daichi broke up, but they never stopped saying ‘I love you’. At first it was almost painful to say, since their relationship has devolved into only words and nothing more. Koushi thought it’d get easier over time. Like starting a new routine.
But he was wrong. It hurts just as bad as it did the first time.
“Sugawara?” He turns to Shouyou. The ginger is sitting at the desk doing his homework. “Is everything alright?”
“Peachy. What question were we up to?” He peers over Shouyou and digs his fingers into his apricot curls. “Ah, question fifteen. You’ve written this kanji before. Do you remember?”
Shouyou screws his face up. “I think?”
“Here, let me show you the stroke order again.”
Koushi helps tutor Shouyou until Shirabu comes and reminds the younger omega to set the dinner table. He kisses the boy on the cheek before he leaves, and then sifts through his wardrobe to find something for tonight. Waseda organised it so that all his finer suits and kimonos are sectioned off to one area, while the rest could be used for work or for casual wear.
He settles for a simple baby-blue kimono and a matching haori, with a buttermilk-hued obi to tie it all together. The shade of yellow complements his choker.
A knock startles him as he’s adjusting his pin in the vanity mirror. “Come in!”
Semi appears, his eyebrows shooting up at his appearance. “You’re wearing a kimono today?”
Koushi blushes and shrugs. “Thought I’d switch things up a bit. Is it too much?”
“No, you look …” Semi frowns as if trying to find a word that won’t step on any toes “… nice.”
Koushi coughs to hide his laugh. “Thanks.”
“Are you ready?”
“I’m just gonna apply a little makeup. I’ll meet you downstairs in five.”
He runs into Yuu and Ryuunosuke on his way downstairs. The bald beta wolf whistles and slaps him on the shoulder. “Look at you all dolled up and gorgeous!”
He rolls his eyes. “I have to look ‘pretty’ tonight—Ushijima’s words not mine.”
“But you’re always pretty, Sugawara!” Yuu crows.
Ryu scowls at the mention of The Don, but catches sight of Oohira by the stairs and thinks twice about saying anything defamatory. Koushi says his goodbyes, waves to Goshiki and Shouyou in the dining area, and then follows Semi out the door. Just as he’s about to close it behind him, Semi’s eyes fall to his neck and he blinks.
“Ah, I forgot. The Don doesn’t want you in a choker tonight.”
Koushi’s eyebrows shoot up. “No? Alright then, do you have the key?”
Semi nods and helps him remove it. Instead of giving it to him, the alpha pockets it.
Dinner with Ushijima goes smoothly.
Out of everyone in Karasuno, Koushi has dined with The Don the most. It started with just one night a week, and evolved into three around the beginning of January.
They chat about a range of things: casual topics like work or the weather, and sometimes personal topics like Karasuno and friends (though whenever it does stray in that direction, he tries his best to redirect it). Koushi personally prefers it when they don’t speak at all, but when Ushijima attempts conversation, he humours him.
“You look beautiful tonight,” Ushijima tells him just as Taichi is clearing the table. “The kimono was a good choice.”
“You have Waseda to thank for that.”
“Only the best for my packmates.”
His stomach turns. He’s never seen Ushijima as a packmate, and probably never will.
Flattening the non-existent creases in his lap, Koushi clears his throat. “Shall I start wearing them to every dinner then?”
“No,” Ushijima says after a moment of thought, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. “Only on special occasions.”
“Is tonight a special occasion, is it?”
“I’d say so.”
“Why?”
Ushijima turns to his bodyguards. “Hoshiumi, Hirugami, leave us.”
The men in black suits eye him strangely as they leave, neither one saying a word. Trepidation sinks in when he realises that it’s just the two of them. He can’t recall a time when he’s ever seen Ushijima without his guards or his packmates.
“It must be important, if you’re willing to sit here alone unguarded,” Koushi phrases casually, but his words could easily be interpreted as a threat. The butterknife has been left abandoned in the middle of the table. It’s not sharp, but if karate taught him anything, it’s that any object can be deadly with the right amount of force.
“I’m not worried,” Ushijima replies dully. “I keep them around out of habit. Like wearing a wristwatch even though you don’t need one.”
“You can never be too careful. Being one of the most hated men in San Tokyo would make anyone paranoid.”
“Most hated? I disagree.” He swirls the wine in his glass. A habit he does whenever he’s contemplative. “To achieve such a thing, you would have to be a public figure—someone well-known and recognisable, like a politician or a celebrity. I am neither.”
“You’re right. You have more in common with the Boogey Man than you do with a celebrity.”
Ushijima chuckles. “I suppose I do.”
“Is that why you sent your men away then, so we would discuss the philosophies of fame and hatred?”
“Does that sound boring?”
“Not boring necessarily.”
“OK then.” Ushijima leans back in his chair and loosens his tie. “My next rut is due soon. Probably in the next couple of weeks.”
“Hm, and which jailbait will you be having this time, Goshiki or Shirabu?” He doesn’t even try to hide his own disdain.
“They served their purpose well, but it won’t be them I will require.”
Koushi picks up on the past tense, and his finger twitches towards the butterknife. “Who will you be having then?”
“The time has come for me to settle down with a suitable mate. Someone who will be my support and carry my children someday.”
He swallows painfully. The silence lingers long enough for tears to prick the corners of his eyes. “Ushijima,” he says quietly, “it’s not me, is it?”
The alpha nods. Koushi inhales sharply.
“Why? You’re one of the most powerful men in this city. You could have any omega you want—and many would gladly have you. You could have a model, or an actor or—or anybody.” Anybody but me for the love of god!
“I have no interest in beauty or fame. As long as you fulfil your purpose, there’s no need for me to bother with anyone else.”
“I … I don’t understand.”
“I don’t think I could be any clearer with my intentions.”
Deliberately, and without breaking eye contact, Koushi stands to his feet. “I’d like to go now.”
“We’re not done.”
“I think we are.”
“Sit down.”
Koushi doesn’t leave or sit; he only stands frozen in place. “You’re serious, aren’t you? You want me to be your mate?”
“Yes.”
“I … but I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I just can’t, alright!”
“Is it because of Sawamura?”
Koushi blood runs cold. He sits back in his seat. “No, this has nothing to do with him.”
“Good. If it were a problem, I would have an easy solution for it.”
Pinning The Don with a dark look, he says: “I’ll never love you, Ushijima. I can barely stomach these dinners we have together. I don’t think you’ve thought this through.”
“Love? Who said anything about love?”
Koushi looks away. “I won’t be your mate.”
“I’m not giving you a choice.”
The legs of Ushijima’s chair groan against the floorboards as he stands to his feet. His stomach flips as the alpha stalks around the table towards him. He shoots up and spins around, but Ushijima grabs him by the arm and shoves him against the table. The force has him fall back, his head cracking against glass.
Dazed, but still conscious, he snatches the butterknife next to his ear. He goes to stab Ushijima in the eye, but The Don catches his wrist effortlessly.
“I expected better from a blackbelt,” Ushijima says, before using his weight to pin his wrists either side of his head.
He could’ve easily broken free. All those self-defence classes Sawamura had given him should’ve been enough … could’ve been enough … but he can’t will himself to move. His heart drums in his ears and a sickening lump lodges itself in the base of his throat. Suddenly he’s not in Ushijima’s dining room anymore. He’s at school, up against a desk, and the person looming over him is his physics teacher.
Ushijima leans forward, their chests touching, and that’s when Koushi snaps out of his stupor and writhes as violently as he can. But The Don is built like a titan. He can’t throw him off no matter how fiercely he struggles.
“Hm. I’m a little disappointed,” Ushijima says. “I thought you’d be more obedient.”
“Let go!” Koushi cries.
“It’s no trouble. Obedience can be taught.”
It happens so fast that Koushi doesn’t have time to stop it. One moment Ushijima’s face is hovering just above him, the next all he sees is the ceiling as a sharp pain burns his neck. He isn’t sure what’s happening until he feels the teeth digging into his flesh, a warm, sticky liquid exploding all over his shoulder.
His screams echo violently against the tall ceilings.
A burning shoots through his veins like vampire’s venom. His muscles lock and his legs spasm, his jaw agape in shock. Every cell of his body sears, as if Ushijima is changing the very fabric of his DNA. The Don keeps his teeth firmly embedding in his neck, his strong hands keeping him pinned at the hips. Tears stream down Koushi’s face and he coughs and chokes, trying desperately to pull away but he can’t.
Blood stains the alpha’s mouth and collared shirt as he pulls back. His wide eyes meet with Ushijima’s predatory ones. The gravity of the situation hits him in the lungs and stomach, and he coils into a ball on the table, both hands on the bleeding wound.
No … not this … anything but this …
Something so reviled he wouldn’t even let Sawamura have, and Ushijima just …
“Don’t disobey me again,” The Don warns.
Koushi shakes his head, his shoulders shaking.
“From now on, you’ll be staying here with me. I’ll have Eita and Taichi bring up your belongings.”
“M-My pack …” he whimpers.
“Our pack,” Ushijima corrects curtly.
“They n-need me.”
“You will still get to see them. You’re free to invite them to dine with us some nights—with my permission.”
Koushi remains in his ball. The bleeding has stopped, but the throbbing continues. It’s like he’s suddenly floating, like his body isn’t his own. It no longer feels like it belongs to him. But rather, to somebody else—to Ushijima. His heart and his mind reject him, detest him, but his flesh sings for him.
Once the burning recedes, he’s left empty and exhausted. His limbs feel like lead, and his eyelids droop. He’s only conscious enough to feel himself be dragged off the table and picked up into a pair of strong arms. He doesn’t look, but he knows it’s Ushijima, because his body is telling him it is.
He’s submerged into hot water. He doesn’t know how or why. He doesn’t care. As he feels himself slip deeper into unconsciousness, his last though calls out like a scream in the distant night: will Daichi still tell him he loves him, even now?
*
Shouyou doodles the margins of his English notebook, his eyes drifting now and then away from the foreign words to look at the clock sitting on a shelf above him. Dinner finished two hours ago. It was mostly uneventful, aside from Kageyama’s hand caressing his inner thigh, but nobody noticed. When Koushi dines with Ushijima he’s usually back by now, but for some reason he’s late.
A little sticky note clings to one of the pocket shelves next to him. It’s a note Sugawara left him once when he was still recovering from surgery.
“Fighting~ (also stop leaving your socks on the floor it’s gross)” and there’s a chibi version of himself drawn in the corner under the message. It’s an inconsequential note that’s more lecture than encouragement, but it still makes him smile.
His thoughts are interrupted when his door opens. He shoots up with a big smile. “Sugawara! Welcome—”
But it’s not Sugawara who enters the room. It’s Semi, along with Kawanishi. His face falls and he collapses back in his chair. “What is it? I’m busy doing my homework.”
“Don’t mind us, we’re just here to get a few things,” Semi says as he pulls open the doors to the walk-in wardrobe.
He’s overcome by confusion as he watches the two alphas pulling clothes out of Sugawara’s closet and piling them up on the bed. “What are you doing?”
Dumping a bunch of suits, Semi says: “We’re taking Sugawara’s possessions up to The Don’s apartment.”
His stomach sinks. “Why?”
“Sugawara will no longer be staying here. The Don wants to keep him close.”
“No longer …” It takes a minute for Shouyou to fully register Kawanishi’s words. When he does, he flies out of his chair so fast it falls onto its side. He clings to Semi’s arm, digging his heels into the carpet to stop him from emptying the wardrobe. “What do you mean? Why isn’t he here? Is he with Ushijima? Why does Ushijima need him?”
Semi shakes him off with a scowl. “Go finish your homework. This doesn’t concern you.”
But Shouyou’s scared. He snatches his phone from his desk and flees from the room, frantically scrolling through his contacts for Sawamura’s number. It rings … and rings … and rings, but no one answers.
He curses and then tries Sugawara’s number just to see if he’ll answer.
But it just goes to voicemail.
If he can’t get in contact with either Sawamura or Sugawara, the next in command is Azumane. He bolts down the hallway and practically throws himself across the railing, screaming across the lounge, “Azumane! Azumane! Something happened to—” but a hand slaps over his mouth and an arm locks around his waist, yanking him back into the dark hallway.
He squeals and kicks the air, attempting to throw the person off him. By the scent he knows it’s Semi.
“Shut up! You’re going to cause unnecessary panic,” the alpha growls in his ear.
“Semi, what are you doing?” Semi turns. Shirabu is at his bedroom door. Not a moment later, Tsutomu appears at his own bedroom door, peeking through to see what’s happening.
“It’s nothing. Go back to whatever you were doing,” Semi orders. Neither of the omegas move. This surprises even Shouyou. He’s never known Shirabu or Tsutomu to disobey an alpha of Shiratorizawa. “I don’t have time for this. Get back in your rooms and stay there.”
Kawanishi emerges from Sugawara’s bedroom. “Do as he says, Kenjirou, Tsutomu. This isn’t something that involves either of you.”
Shouyou bites down on Semi’s hand as hard as he can and the alpha drops him. He uses this opportunity to elbow him in the ribs and screams, “They’ve taken Sugawara!”
“You fucking little—” Semi goes to grab him by the hair but he ducks away, running to hide behind Tsutomu.
“They said Sugawara’s staying with Ushijima now, and they’re taking all his stuff up to his place!”
Tsutomu looks down at Shouyou, confusion slowly morphing into horror. “What?!”
“Explain.” Shirabu takes a step in the direction of the alphas. “What business does The Don have with Sugawara?”
“We don’t owe you anything,” Semi snaps.
“Don Ushijima has chosen the Karasuno omega as his mate. From now on, he will be the one to assist him during ruts, and carry his brood when the time comes,” Kawanishi states matter-of-factly.
“But he can’t—” then Shouyou stuffs his hand into his mouth. He almost said something he shouldn’t have. Neither of the alphas seem to have noticed.
Semi shoots Kawanishi a glare, and the alpha shrugs. “They would’ve figured it out by tomorrow anyway. The quicker this is over with the sooner we can get back to what we were doing.”
“His mate,” Tsutomu echoes hollowly.
Shirabu’s face twists. “Why weren’t we informed about this? Why are we only finding this out after the fact?”
“Do I need to repeat myself?” Kawanishi asks. “This doesn’t concern you.”
“Like hell it doesn’t!” Tsutomu snarls. Shouyou can feel the boy’s body begin to shake. His fists tighten against the fabric of Tsutomu’s pyjamas. “If it concerns our leader it concerns us too!”
“If The Don didn’t feel the need to tell you, then clearly he doesn’t care whether you know or not. He’s made his decision. Get over it.” Kawanishi vanishes back into Sugawara’s room. Semi remains behind, fixed in a stare-off with the Shiratorizawa omegas.
“Don’t cry over something that never was, Tsutomu,” he says coldly. “Ushijima never would’ve chosen you as his mate, even if Sugawara was unavailable to him. Now—go back to your rooms. Hinata, come here.”
Shouyou doesn’t move, and neither does Tsutomu. The raven-haired omega spreads his arms out, shielding him. “Shouyou’s staying with me.”
Semi’s eyes travel between them before he snorts, his hand on the doorframe. “Have it your way. The lights better be out when I come to lock the doors, or I’ll have Satori decide your punishments.”
The alpha leaves. Shouyou, Tsutomu and Shirabu collectively let out breathes they’d been holding in. Tsutomu’s shaking worsens, and Shouyou quietly slips a hand into his. Shirabu herds them further into Tsutomu’s room and closes the door. It’s then the final wall falls, and Tsutomu collapses to the floor sobbing. Even though he’s barely keeping himself together, Shouyou holds Tsutomu, the younger omega’s ear against his chest, clinging to his small waist.
It’s weird when Shouyou thinks too hard about it. They’ve never embraced before—never even got anywhere close to this level of intimacy, and yet they reached for each in this moment as if it were natural. This up close, Shouyou takes in the gentle scent of berries and walnuts.
They’re upset for different reasons, but understand each other’s pain.
Shirabu kneels in front of them, not touching them, his hard honey-coloured eyes soft with sympathy.
“I-I really thought he’d choose me,” Tsutomu wails.
Shirabu sighs. “I know.”
Shouyou doesn’t say anything. He just cards his fingers through Tsutomu’s raven locks and silently prays for Sugawara’s safety.
Notes:
Author's note: ... I'm sorry TT^TT
Chapter 21: Boiling Point
Notes:
I made a mistake. The last chapter was called 'Dinner with the Don' but my dumbass typed in 'Boiling Point', which is the name of this chapter. Please ignore my dumbass.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Four months. It took four months before Kei could even put a face to the name of Ushijima Wakatoshi.
Up until then, the only Karasuno members who’d seen him in the flesh were Sawamura, Sugawara and Hinata. The rest were cast to the wayside. As far as The Don was concerned, the betas and alphas were nothing more than extra baggage that came along with what he truly needed. And Kei was fine with that. The less attention he got the better. The prospect of living his life never meeting the man who single-handedly made his pack’s lives a living hell was desirable, even.
Good things never last though.
Four of Karasuno’s youngest sit restlessly at the dining table. Sitting opposite them is Sugawara, who’s doing that thing Hinata does when he’s falling apart but forcing on a happy demeanour anyway. It wouldn’t surprise him if Hinata adopted this annoying mannerism from Sugawara.
Ushijima, in all his masculine, domineering, alpha glory sits at the head of the table. The tension in the room is so thick it’s choking them, but The Don breathes without trouble.
A hideous bite wound heals on Sugawara’s neck. It’s raw and puffed, the skin still processing the merciless trauma. Kei can’t remember a time he’s ever seen Sugawara such a mess. There was an attempt to brush his hair, with half-hearted results; dark bags sit heavy under his thousand-mile stare; and despite it only being two weeks since they last saw him, it’s obvious he’s lost weight.
Life has been … surreal lately. Not just for Kei, but for all of them.
They probably should’ve seen the writing on the wall the moment Shiratorizawa took interest in Hinata and just fled for their fucking lives. A life on the run would’ve at least given them a fighting chance. Now everything’s fucked. Yamaguchi sits to his right, making a point of ignoring him (still angry at him); Hinata is to his left, trembling worse than a chihuahua left out in the rain (he hasn’t touched his meal); and Kageyama is next to Ushijima (furthest from Hinata), stiff under The Don’s scrutiny. Under any other circumstance he’d find it funny, but Sugawara’s pain puts a damper on things.
The morning they woke up to discover what had happened to Sugawara was like a scene torn straight out of the manuscript of a TV melodrama. All it was missing was a fire to spontaneously combust in the lounge area and burn the whole apartment down.
There were lots of screaming and tears from his packmates, but none could match the unbridled rage of Sawamura Daichi. Up until then, Sawamura had been a reluctant but compliant servant to The Don and Shiratorizawa. He kept his head down, did what he was told, and made sure Karasuno followed his example. Their ex-leader might’ve been under a naïve understanding that their obedience would mean they could live their lives peacefully. But marking Sugawara broke something inside Sawamura. Something he knew he couldn’t come back from.
Sawamura injured half of Shiratorizawa, and threatened to snap Semi’s neck before Tendou pressed a gun to the back of his head. The redhead only nursed a blackeye. Compared to some of the other injuries his packmates sustained, it was nothing. The rest of Karasuno were forced to stand and watch their ex-leader wrestled onto his stomach. Semi and Yamagata held him down. Tendou rested a foot to his back as Reon broke his arms and legs. Then they beat him for good measure.
He was dragged away, barely conscious, and they haven’t seen him since.
Semi warned them not to speak of it to Sugawara. Their safety is probably the only thing keeping him docile.
“How is … everybody?” Sugawara asks carefully.
“Healthy,” Kei answers. He’s the only one capable of answering, even if his hands are shaking in his lap.
“G-Good.” Sugawara looks down at his food. “That’s … that’s really good to hear.”
It’s maddening, sitting across from Sugawara, unable to help him. The omega is so close, and yet so untouchable now. Like Ushijima, he’s ascended to a different playing field, one where the rules are different and nothing makes much sense. Azumane, Tanaka and Noya dined with him yesterday. He honestly can’t figure out how they were able to keep it together. Especially Tanaka.
Sugawara doesn’t allow the punishing silence to linger long. “And how’ve you been sleeping, Shouyou?”
Hinata glances at Ushijima, then looks down at his lap. “W-Well.”
“Goshiki told me he’s been taking good care of you.”
“He has.”
There’s so much sincerity in Sugawara’s voice when he replies: “I’m glad.”
Yamaguchi tilts his head to the ceiling, blinking rapidly. His bottom lip trembles and his hands grip the underside of the table. The urge to reach for his hand is strong. But they just don’t have that kind of relationship anymore. Things changed when Yamaguchi met Yachi. He hadn’t known it then, but a rift wedged itself between them, and only grows with each passing day.
After dinner, Sugawara sees them to the door. He gives each of them a hug. “Be good. Don’t cause trouble.”
Kageyama bursts into tears; Hinata and Yamaguchi aren’t fairing much better.
Emotion wells in the base of Kei’s throat, and he resists the urge to scream. When Sugawara pulls him in for a hug, he has to bend over awkwardly. The omega runs his fingers through his hair and hums sweetly. His scent is a shadow of what he remembers it smelling like. A platter of watermelon, pineapples and blueberries sit on a table on a porch, but it’s raining and everything’s soggy and gross.
It’s not something that suits Sugawara at all.
“Be nice to your brothers,” he whispers.
He fists the back of Sugawara’s shirt. “You ask too much of me,” he mumbles, scared to speak any louder in case he loses control.
Sugawara chuckles sadly.
It’s quiet as they make their way towards the elevators. Halfway down, Yamaguchi spins around suddenly and grabs him by the collar. It’s the most attention he’s gotten since their encounter in the alpha bathrooms. “Why? Why would you do their bidding, after everything they’ve done? To Sawamura, to Hinata, to Yachi, to Sugawara and everyone we love—don’t you care at all? Is there really no humanity left inside you?”
Hinata and Kageyama are confused. And why wouldn’t they be? They’re so self-absorbed and stupid they wouldn’t notice if Azumane dropped dead and Noya sprouted wings.
“What do you know of anything?” he sneers. Yamaguchi flinches. “Not everyone’s lives are perfect like yours. The reason they leave you alone is because you’re so inconsequential and unnecessary that they forget you even exist half the time.”
“Tsuki-shithead! That was uncalled for!” Hinata cries, throwing himself at Yamaguchi to stop him from punching Tsukishima.
“What’s gotten into you two?” Kageyama shoves his hands into his pockets, foul mood aggressively marred into his frown. “You’ve been acting like strangers for weeks.”
Yamaguchi shoves Kei, and then shoves him again when he decides the first one wasn’t hard enough. “‘Strangers’,” he snorts. “Sounds about right.”
“Tadashi …?” Hinata follows Yamaguchi as he storms away.
Kageyama gives Kei a funny look before leaving him in the corridor alone. The mask Kei has built for himself slides back in place, hiding the twisting ache that jerks inside his chest.
The Saturday after seeing Sugawara, he goes to Middle Tokyo to see his biological mother. The last time he was here, Sugawara came with him for support. This time, he brings no one. He wouldn’t know who to bring, even if he got permission from Tendou. The only person he’d want Akari to meet would be Yamaguchi. But he’s on a date with Yachi. And also Yamaguchi hates him.
You know, whenever he argued with Kageyama and Kageyama used to tell him he had no friends, he used think: ‘That’s not true; I have Yamaguchi.’
Now he really does have no friends. He’s done it. He’s become such an asshole that even someone as forgiving as Yamaguchi can’t stand him.
His mother is ecstatic to find him on the other side of her door. Well, until she starts crying. Tears have been so commonplace recently that it almost doesn’t faze him anymore. She hugs him much the way she did on their first reunion, like she’s clinging to the hope that this is reality and not some fucked up dream about to pull the rug out from under her.
“When you stopped answering my messages, I thought something bad had happened to you.”
Define ‘bad’.
Being swept up by one of the deadliest rogue packs in San Tokyo is bad, but he also has all his limbs still intact. So really, ‘bad’ is a subjective concept.
“I missed you,” she says when she finally pulls away, dabbing the corners of her eyes.
Kei swallows. “I know.”
“Come in—I’m almost done cooking lunch. Itsuki is watching TV. Why don’t you introduce yourself?”
Akari’s second husband sits on the couch watching a baseball game with the volume turned all the way down. A newborn is tucked under his arm, suckling on a bottle of milk.
When he spots Kei, he sets aside the bottle and offers a hand. He doesn’t look too surprised he’s here. He likely heard his wife’s wailing and picked up enough of their conversation to mentally prepare himself. “Ah—Kei, isn’t it? It’s nice to meet you. I’m Watanabe Itsuki.”
“Nice to meet you. And this is …?”
Itsuki smiles fondly down at his daughter, angling her gently so Kei can get a better look. “Sachiko. Watanabe Sachiko.”
He stays until the sun bleeds over the horizon. He explains the reason for his radio silence as best as he can, avoiding anything that might implicate Shiratorizawa—a pack they’ve undoubtedly heard of, and they would undoubtedly freak out about if he were to namedrop them. The most he can say is that his situation is precarious (an understatement) and that it’s best if he keeps his distance for now.
When Akari hugs him goodbye, she knows it’ll be their last.
“Are you sure you can’t stay? You know Itsuki and me—we’d love to have you.”
Not if it means putting you and your family in danger. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m going to miss you so, so much.”
“I know.”
The journey back to Upper Tokyo leaves him feeling hollow, as if a chapter of his life had been closed too soon. ‘That’s what life’s about, isn’t it? Sacrifice, or whatever that bullshit the movies say?’ he asks himself. Akari moved on and found her happiness again, and that’s more than what he’d expected of her.
If either of them is going to have a good life, at least it’s her, right?
*
Hinata politely orders Tobio to stay out of the kitchen Thursday night. Not that he’d need to be in the kitchen after dinner anyway, but the fact that the omega is so adamant puts him in a contrary mood.
His first attempt to sneak into the kitchen is thwarted when Noya spots him lingering in the living room. Noya recruits him for video games because they need even numbers for teams. The second, he gets closer to getting a peek at what’s going on; he even hears Hinata’s alto fluttering against the high ceilings. But then Goshiki appears out of a downstairs bathroom and lectures him for snooping like the insufferable bossy-pants that he is. By the time a third attempt is made, Hinata has vacated the kitchen, leaving only Shirabu leaning against a counter, engrossed by whatever he’s looking at on his phone.
“You’ll find out soon enough,” Shirabu tells him bluntly and without prompt. He scowls. Somehow the omega reads him without even looking at him. “Or alternatively, if you had more than half a braincell, you’d be able to figure it out on your own.”
Tobio splutters. He’s never been quippy with his comebacks. More often than not he gets too tongue-tied and flustered to even get the words to mean anything. What would Tsukishima say in his place?
“Y-Yeah, well—your fringe …! It’s dumb!”
The cunning omega hums disappointedly. “Not very original. Three out of ten.”
“Ugh!” He storms off before he can embarrass himself any further.
There’s a certain buzz in the atmosphere at school the next day. Tobio can’t quite put his finger on it, but everyone is either acting really coy or really excited. Even Hinata’s acting weirder than usual. Instead of teeming with energy, he fiddles with his hair a lot and gnaws at his fingernails. It’s infuriating.
He decides that whatever spell that’s been cast on the student body, it’s unimportant. He just goes about his morning like he usually does: with an absent stare and a desperate longing to be back in bed.
It’s when he visits Tsukishima at recess that the mystery deepens.
“Why’re there piles of chocolate on your desk?” Tobio blinks.
Tsukishima heaves a sigh and pulls his headphones from his head. “Sorry, were you talking?”
His eyebrow switches. “You know I was.”
“I didn’t hear what you said.”
“Why are there—” Tsukishima slips his headphones back on and continues reading the manga in his hand.
He marches away in a huff. Stupid Shittyshima. Why does he even bother talking to him again? He would’ve hung out with Hinata if he hadn’t evaporated the second the bell for recess rang!
Come to think of it, he’s seeing quite a lot of chocolate today. If he so much as glances into the windows of classrooms, he can spot at least five boxes of cutely-wrapped chocolates on students’ desks. Even out in the hallway he sees people gifting or receiving or eating chocolate. So weird.
Then, he gets back to his desk—there are chocolates. Three boxes to be exact.
Confused, he assumes someone accidently left them there and puts them at the back of class on top of the lockers. A girl watches this, and then runs out of the room in a fit of tears. Her friends call him a jerk and run after her.
“What the hell is with everyone today!” he yells to no one in particular. Some of his classmates who saw the whole thing look at him like he’s a monster.
He looks for Hinata all through recess but he doesn’t show until the very second before class starts. When he barrels over to his desk and sheepishly apologises to the teacher, he pretends Tobio doesn’t exist. And he does not pout for the rest of History class. That would be dumb. And he definitely doesn’t glare at the teacher anytime he’s addressed to answer a question. That would be impolite.
At lunchtime, Hinata stops being dumb and approaches him.
“Oh so, you’ve stopped ignoring me then?” he asks as he stabs his straw into his box of milk.
“Ignoring you?” Hinata rocks back and forth on his feet, his hands behind his back. He wishes he’d stop doing that. “What are you on about? I was just with Kenma.”
“Who’s Kenma?”
“A-Ah! Just—someone.”
“Oh-kay then. Are you going to sit down or are you going to stand in front of my desk like a weirdo all lunch?” Hinata’s face turns a gentle pink and it’s cute. Too cute. He lowers his milk suspiciously. “What? Is there something on my face?”
“No, I—” Hinata screws up his expression (stop being so cute seriously it’s annoying) and slams something on his desk. The impact rocks his desk and sends his chopsticks rolling off onto the carpet. Shock seizes him for a split second before he registers what it is. “Please accept my chocolate!”
The box is in the shape of a heart with a rose and doily lacing tacked to the front of it. He looks at Hinata, then at the box, then back at Hinata.
“Um … thanks?”
Hinata scowls. “That’s all you have to say? ‘Um thanks’? That’s not what alphas are supposed to say to omegas on Valentine’s Day, Bakageyama!”
“Valen…” He looks around. Oh. Oh! Leaping to his feet, he yells: “It’s Valentine’s Day!”
Hinata grins and nods, his beaming face erasing all the shadows in the classroom. “Uh-huh. Now hurry up and try my chocolate. I made it myself!”
*
Sometimes, when Yuu wakes up in the morning, he wishes he hadn’t.
The apartment is just a little quieter when he drags himself downstairs for breakfast, the waking sky gazing through the windows just a little bleaker. A tiny prick hurts the bottom of his foot and he realises it’s a piece of glass left over from when Sawamura threw Oohira through the frosted partition. He chucks it in the bin and mumbles a ‘thank you’ to Hoshi as he dishes him up a plate of toast and scrambled eggs. Not the most complicated dish for a seasoned chef, but Yuu prefers something simple to start off his day.
He sits at the table alone. No one else is up yet.
On his way out the door, Hoshi hands him his bento and gives him a few parting words of encouragement. It goes mostly over his head.
Soccer practice is a happy distraction, even if he was technically forced into it. It’s nice pretending to be a normal student. Like he grew up with two parents and maybe had a sibling or two. Like he went to the movies with friends on the weekends and went on date nights with Asahi.
It’s … it’s nice.
His teammates aren’t scared of him like his classmates are. They don’t judge him, they don’t ask questions, none of it—they care about soccer and having fun, and that’s something he can get down with.
At lunch he seeks out Asahi in third-year territory and sinks down into his lap. Asahi smiles softly, pulling him closer until Yuu’s face almost touches his chest. “You’re cute when you’re in a bad mood.”
“’m not in a bad mood,” he mutters, locking his arms around Asahi’s neck.
One of his strong hands runs down his spine and he shivers. “I feel like I’ve told you this a million times but—you don’t have to act tough for me. I’m here to listen to your worries. That’s what boyfriends are for, aren’t they?”
Yuu knows Asahi is right, of course. Where Yuu fights with harsh logic, Asahi is there to balance him out with gentle reason. A sigh escapes him as he rests comfortably against his boyfriend’s warm body, gazing out the window at the dreary day.
“Do you ever just … want to get away?”
Breath tickles his hair. “All the time. If we got away though, where’d we go? Overseas?”
He brushes his fingers against the nape of Asahi’s neck. “I was thinking the countryside. I hear the air is clean and life’s just … I don’t know, simpler? Not like it is here, anyway.”
“That sounds refreshing.”
The alpha blinks, a wistful smile pulling at his lips. Stress lines have made a home around his eyes and forehead, and much like everyone in Karasuno, he looks like he hasn’t had a decent night’s sleep in ages. It’s nothing short of a miracle that he was able to pull the grades he did under so much stress.
“You’re graduating soon.”
Asahi’s arms squeeze him. “Yup.”
“And you got into Kanawashi.”
A chuckle vibrates deeply from within Asahi’s chest. “You say that like you’re disappointed.”
“Just a little,” he admits. “Only because your success means I won’t get to see you as often.”
“It’s not like I’m staying at the dorms. I’ll still be at the apartment when you get home.”
Yuu sighs. He’s been doing that a lot recently. “I know. But it also means we won’t get to cuddle and stuff during lunch anymore.”
“Hm, I do like it when we cuddle and stuff.”
He looks up at Asahi and grins. “And stuff?”
Asahi gulps, failing to hide his own blush. “Yuu,” he says in warning. “Last time we got detention.”
“I don’t mind getting detention again,” he fiddles with the alpha’s collar before yanking him down to his level, “if it means we can gross out our classmates one last time before graduation, what’s the harm?”
Without waiting for Asahi to bumble out an answer, he smashes their lips together, earning him a surprised whine. But his boyfriend’s shock only lasts a moment before he relaxes. He’s never been able to resist Yuu, even when he should.
Today’s troubles are chased away by Asahi’s soft lips and soothing embrace. Sometimes he feels like one of those wind-up toys, that just keeps winding, and winding, and winding until he’s ready to break at a slight shift in the weather. But Asahi only has to tug gently at the seams and he unfurls. As if the tension was never there at all.
He nibbles cheekily on Asahi’s bottom lip and the older boy opens his mouth without protest, his broad shoulders dipping with a groan.
They make-out for a decent five minutes before some prudey-rudey interrupts their fun.
“While you have only a week left here at Kintsuru, Azumane-san, that does not mean you or Nishinoya-san are above the school rules.” Yuu releases Asahi’s lips with a sloppy ‘pop’ just to be gratuitous, and tilts his head towards Mrs Katagiri, aka The Bible-Slinger.
She’s actually Asahi’s chemistry teacher, but her aggressive endeavours to sniff out any displays of public debauchery are nun-levels of obsessive. Which is interesting when you consider the fact that her massive tits are one button shy of bursting through her blouse.
With her hands on her hips, she towers over them, grin twisting maniacally. “Caught again, you little tail-chasers! It’s almost like you two are hoping to get caught. Do I sense a hint of voyeurism?”
If Yuu weren’t currently wrapped up in Asahi’s arms, he’d reach for Mrs Katagiri’s eyes right about now. Instead, he tilts his head innocently. “Voyer-what? What’s that?”
She scowls and stabs a finger into the centre of Yuu’s chest. “Detention! After school! You too Azumane!”
Asahi whimpers. “But sen—”
“No buts!” She gets uncomfortably close. Sweat beads Asahi’s forehead as they’re eclipsed by the shadow of her giant boobies. “This’ll be your last strike, Azumane. One more toe out of line, one more inane slip-up, and I will make sure Kanawashi reconsider your enrolment into their institution!”
“Ye-Yes, sensei!”
Detention has unintentionally become a club just like any other available at Kintsuru. They’re there about three afternoons out of the week, and it’s the usual suspects every time. So when Yuu yanks open the door, he grins, his eyes landing on Ryu from across the empty classroom.
“Bro!”
“Bruh!”
Yuu does a run-up and they high-five. There’s a fresh lot of bruises on Ryu’s body and his cheek is slightly swollen. “Who’d you fight with this time? Didja win?”
“You know I did! They were just some douche from second-year.”
“He looked at you funny, did he?”
“Nah, he was harassing an omega. Whatchu you in for?”
He wiggles his eyebrows and glances over his shoulder.
Ryu punches Asahi in the arm. “You dog!”
“I-It’s not what you’re thinking! We were just kissing!”
“Uh-huh, sure you were.”
Asahi spent the rest of detention trying to convince Ryu that what they were doing was perfectly innocent, but Ryu maintained his scepticism right up until they were dismissed.
*
One of the most glaring downsides to Upper Tokyo (aside from all the societal, economic and political issues) is that it’s almost all indoors. Sure, it’s nice when the weather’s terrible and torrential rains are only an interesting visual outside your window, but on sunny days and warm nights, a casual stroll calls to you and you only have a handful of places you can go.
The bridges connecting the apartments to No Man’s Tower have outdoor areas on top of them that citizens have free access to. There are the pockets of balconies and small parks carved out of the sides of the tower, too. But they aren’t easy to find. They’re the kind of places you only know exist once someone’s shown you how to get there.
Hitoka takes Tadashi to one of these little pockets of outdoor paradise one night during school holidays. It’s almost 8pm, and he knows he shouldn’t have snuck away after dinner, but he’s glad that he did.
They’re second-years now. Or—well, they will be once school starts back up again in April. They’d made it through their first year of high school unscathed—physically, anyway. End-of-year celebrations were a bittersweet affair in Shiratorizawa’s apartment. Even Shirabu and Goshiki were subdued (they’ve been that way for a while, but he doesn’t know why). Tanaka suggested karaoke, always the one trying to lighten the mood, but they ended up in the living room watching movies and eating junk food as if it were a normal Saturday night. Tadashi wouldn’t describe it as special.
What a bizarre year.
They sit on a bench that’s surrounded by a tiny alcove of neatly maintained bushes. There are a few other people on the balcony, either smoking or out on dates. The spring breeze is chilly, but not scathing enough to penetrate their coats.
The tip of Hitoka’s nose is pink, and her breath comes out in tiny huffs of steam. She has a blue bow in her hair that matches her boots, and a scarf that envelops her at the neck. She’s wearing the earrings he’d gifted her for White Day about a month ago. It’s one of those moments where she’s completely at peace within herself.
“It’s rare to see the stars from here,” she comments softly. “Usually the lights of the city chase them away.”
“Were you born here?”
Hitoka shakes her head. “My family originally came from Middle Tokyo. We moved here when mum’s political career started gaining traction.”
“Your mum sounds like a driven woman.”
“She is.” Hitoka frowns, her eyes far off in another place. “I don’t think I could ever be as successful as her.”
Tadashi squeezes her hand. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I’m nothing like her. I’m not as strong or as beautiful or—or as smart. She’s all those things and more!”
“Who says you’re not those things?” He pouts. “I think you’re strong and beautiful and smart and all those things and more.”
She giggles and scratches the back of her head. “Y-You think?”
“Yeah! Of course you are! Anyone who says otherwise is a bastard liar!”
Coiling her arm around his, Hitoka snuggles closer, the lightest touches of a blush caressing her cheeks. Tadashi smiles and rests his head on hers, no longer feeling the spring chill.
“The truth is, I don’t really like Upper Tokyo at all.”
This surprises him. Hitoka never mentioned any disdain for Upper Tokyo before. “How come?”
She doesn’t answer straight away. Instead, her fingers trace along his bicep as she worries her bottom lip. “Ever since we moved here, I’ve never felt safe.”
His heartbeat picks up just slightly. “Oh yeah?”
“Whenever I’m out in public—even at school, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched.”
Sweat gathers in his gloved palms. He inhales sharply, thinking that maybe she’s a little too close to the truth.
Then she forces out a giggle and shrugs it off. “But it’s probably just my imagination—I’m being a little paranoid, aren’t I?”
The hairs on his skin stand on end. Tadashi isn’t sure what makes him turn his head then, in the direction of where a lone man leans against the rails of the balcony. Maybe it’s because he suddenly gets the sense that someone is watching them.
Hitoka looks up when he doesn’t answer. “Tadashi-kun? What’s wrong?”
The man is playing with a lighter, flicking the flame on and off at will. In a brief glimpse of light, he catches the sharp eyes looking directly at them, along with tufts of red hair and the coil of a maniacal grin.
Notes:
This chapter is a little filler-ish, I know. I'm sorry if you were expecting it to keep up the momentum after what happened last chapter, but I wanted this to have sprinkles of other Karasuno POVs before chapter 22. Next chapter will shift the course of the entire story, so be prepared for that!
Also thank you for all the lovely comments. They mean so much to me <3
Chapter 22: The Gathering of the Tides
Notes:
Here we are folks! The chapter I've been building to for quite some time! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it :D
Chapter Text
It takes all of Koushi’s self-control to thread the kamikazari into Shouyou’s hair. They’re in Shouyou’s bedroom by the vanity, the younger omega sitting on a stool while he stands behind him. The space is bare, unlived in. Despite Semi’s efforts, Shouyou never slept in the room intended for him, even after Koushi moved out. It’s only a place where he stores his clothes and school books.
The last day of May has arrived. It’s a day Koushi has been dreading since the date was announced, and time did what time did best and hit the ground running. Before he knew it, the big day arrived, and now he’s helping Shouyou get dolled up and ready and the poor boy doesn’t even fully understand why. Shouyou has been showering him with a barrage of questions from the moment Semi left them to their own devices. He’s had to resort to verbal gymnastics just to avoid giving too much away. It’s a good thing Shouyou is easy to placate.
With one last touch, Koushi nestles the white pin into the same tuft of hair shared by the kamikazari, and then rests his hands on Shouyou’s shoulders. Bones poke through the fabric.
Koushi frowns, giving the boy a brief squeeze. “You’ve lost weight.”
As he helped Shouyou into his kimono he thought he was imagining things. The boy has always been tiny. The prominent ribcage and protruding hipbones hadn’t concerning him before; Shouyou scoffs down food enough to feed a family of elephants on a regular day. At some point he convinced himself that Shouyou’s metabolism would eventually catch up to him and he’d start gaining weight. But the clothes Waseda tailored painstakingly to fit Shouyou’s body seem to swallow him, and the cheeks he’d patted with a gentle blush weren’t as round and plush as he remembered.
It’s only looking at his completed work that the realisation sinks in.
Brown eyes, warm as the summer and sweet as an angel’s sigh, meet his stare in the mirror’s reflection. “So have you.”
He can’t deny it. They look like a pair of ghosts, pale and haunting. Yet Shouyou still glows with beauty and charm.
The kimono was requested by The Don himself. Apparently it’d been made with this particular event in mind, stored away in a protective cover in the furthest nook of Shouyou’s closet, waiting for its special day. The base colour is a quiet eggshell, with coy splashes of purple, pink and turquoise flowers that tease sporadically at the tomoeri, and bloom more collectively the further down the kimono they float. The obi is the colour of a dreamlike sunrise, as pale and as delicate as the colours it serenades. Autumn leaves are caught in a diamond-shaped frame at the very front, and embraced by a thin pink obijime with a bird obidome. If Koushi were in a mischievous mood, he would paint the white obidome an opaque black so that it spoke more genuinely to Shouyou’s rogue origins.
Comparatively, Koushi feels kind of plain.
His hair has started to fall out, and even with a decent layer of makeup he still looks as tired as ever; his skin is chalky and his bottom lip is bumpy from gnawing on it too much; his eyes are bloodshot and puffy. Everything about his own reflection just looks off. Worst of all is the black pin he has threaded through his own kamikazari; a constant reminder mocking him.
“Make sure you eat,” he warns as he fixes Shouyou’s tateya-musubi. “At the end of the day, our health is the only thing we have. Don’t take it for granted.”
Shouyou pouts. “You have to eat too then.”
“I will. I promise.”
Shouyou clings to the crook of his elbow as they shuffle downstairs. It’s not his first time in sandals, but it is his first time in zori. He’s also never worn a furisode before, but for a former stray, that isn’t too uncommon. Most children don their traditional wear the first time they celebrate Shichi-Go-San, but it’s common for Lower Tokyo kids to miss out on the rite of passage.
Koushi has just a tiny bit more experience in that he’s rented kimonos before, wearing them to special events with Daichi when they were still teenagers and wanted to look cute for photos.
His heart sinks. He promised he wouldn’t think about Daichi, but when they join their packmates in the lounge area, his absence echoes.
“You—” Kageyama gasps, mouth agape as Shouyou and Koushi make it to the last step.
“Wh-What?” Shouyou tugs at his sleeves and hides partially behind Koushi. “Do I look weird?”
Ryu punches Kageyama in the back, and the alpha splutters out a restrained: “No!”
Pride swells inside Koushi, right before it’s shot down and spirals all the way to the floor. More than half of Karasuno don’t know what’ll happen today. The most they’ve been told is that they must attend an important meeting and that they wear their best traditional clothes.
Still, he can’t help but think that his packmates look exceptionally handsome. Clothing etiquette in Upper Tokyo is very strict when it comes to traditional Japanese attire: omegas wear kimono; alphas wear hakama and haori; and betas can wear either.
For once Ryu doesn’t look like a renegade delinquent and more the sweet gentleman he raised him to be; Yuu’s hair isn’t as untamed and wild, and Asahi shaved off the tuft of hair on his chin for the occasion; Kei is almost regal in how he stands, and Tadashi is particularly cute in his blue kimono. If Daichi were here, he would tell them how amazing they all look, and say something cheesy like he’s never been prouder to be the leader of their pack.
Shiratorizawa are gorgeous. There isn’t a single outlier.
Half of them are with The Don. Both parties are going to join up on their way to the meeting place. Koushi is supposed to be with them, but he begged Ushijima for this one courtesy. Shouyou needs his support; even if he doesn’t know it yet.
Semi’s eyes drag up and down Shouyou and nods. “You did well, Sugawara. The Don will be pleased.”
“Very …” Goshiki blushes and looks away “… pretty.”
“You look pretty too, Tsutomu!” Shouyou exclaims, probably louder than he intended. “Purple looks awesome on you!”
Goshiki’s blush turns a shade deeper, but he straightens with his hands on his hips. “I agree! I am very pretty.”
“You are!”
Shirabu rolls his eyes. “Watch it. The gravity of Tsutomu’s head is going to pull the whole building into orbit.”
Goshiki tries to shove Shirabu, but the older omega dances playfully out of his reach. “Ugh, you’re such an ass!”
They meet up with The Don and his party on the 188th floor of No Man’s Tower. According to the guide in the elevator, the level is listed as ‘Fine Dining’, but it doesn’t seem like a place you’d take someone on a date or an anniversary. If Koushi had to guess, he would say this is where people hold expensive gatherings and business fuctions. In the centre is a circular foyer, surrounded by event halls that specialise in different gatherings.
Upon their approach, Tendou murmurs something to Ushijima from behind his fan, and The Don’s eyes settling on Koushi and Shouyou before nodding. It takes him a second to register who Shiratorizawa are standing amongst, and when he does, he almost reels back in shock. Members of Date and Seijoh bow to them, also dressed for the occasion. He almost misses Ushijima’s bodyguards surveying the area; Hoshiumi and Hirugami seem like strangers out of their usual black and white suits.
“What are you doing here?” Kageyama jabs a finger at Oikawa and Koushi slaps him upside the head.
“Kageyama! Manners!”
Oikawa smiles in an unabashedly plastic fashion. “You have my sympathies, Kou-chan. I gave up on teaching Tobio-chan manners a long time ago!”
“You ba—”
Koushi slams his heel against Kageyama’s toe and the alpha cries out. “Please, pay him no mind. He’s just surprised—as am I—to see you here. Will you and your pack be joining us for The Gathering of the Tides?”
From memory, Fukuroudani were supposed to invite Seijoh along as honoured guests to engage in the negotiations that are to take place. Daichi hoped the move would catch Ushijima off guard enough to be susceptible to influence.
Oikawa portrays nothing but a brief glance in The Don’s direction before answering, “Yes, we were invited personally by Don Ushijima himself. Funny, isn’t it?”
“Yeah … funny.”
Koganegawa saunters over for a quick hello. He and Shouyou talk animatedly about a manga they’ve both been following, and Tadashi sidles into the conversation about halfway through. Seeing Koganegawa getting along with his packmates brings a smile to his face.
But then sudden surprise flashes across the young alpha’s expression when he gets a proper look at Koushi. Koganegawa makes an excited noise and points at his neck. Koushi’s heart stutters. “Oh! You’re marked! Congratulations! When did Sawamura finally make the move?”
He never thought there’d be a day where Goshiki would save him, but the omega comes out of nowhere and awkwardly tackles the alpha. They go stumbling into Aone and Futakuchi, and then Koganegawa is too busy apologising to notice Koushi tugging Shouyou away. He feels Oikawa’s calculated gaze follow them over to Ushijima.
It’s been almost four months since Koushi was marked, and he’s still adjusting to all the strong and subtle changes it has made to his behaviour. In any room, at any given moment, his body is drawn to Ushijima’s presence. Alphas’ scents stale in comparison to his, and the face he once thought indecipherable now reads like an open book.
Even with these changes, however, his heart blackens with disgust at the sight of him.
“He’s too skinny,” is the first thing The Don blurts out.
Tendou snorts and smacks Ushijima in the back. “Ignore him. He’s nervous about negotiations. It’s still a learning experience for him. Shou-chan is gyogeous.”
“I am not nervous,” Ushijima mumbles, but promptly drops the matter.
They enter into a traditional restaurant with shoji-style doors and tatami floors. Two geisha women bow to them, but instead of the modest subtlety of traditional geisha make up, their eyebrows are in thick, wide arches, and their smiles cut halfway up through their cheeks. They have more in common with funhouse clowns than actual geisha.
One gestures them towards a small booth with a painted grin. “Please leave all guns, knives, pens and other items that can be used to harm others with our weapon’s keeper. You may also leave your shoes with him!”
A round-bellied man with red circles stamped onto his cheeks beckons them with a discordant hum. “I’ll keep your children safe!”
No one in Karasuno moves to relinquish weapons, since their battles are fought with fists instead of guns. The same can’t be said for everyone else. Iwaizumi pulls out twin knives from under his sleeves, and Oikawa reaches into the folds of his nagagi and nonchalantly pulls out a handgun, along with a knife he had hidden at the waist. Aone puts down a samurai sword that was strapped to his back, and Tendou leans his foot against the counter to pull out the revolver he had nestled in an ankle harness, placing a tender kiss to its barrel before handing it over. Even Hoshiumi and Hirugami surrender their weapons.
After they’re frisked by the female hosts, one of them guides the packs down a corridor. It’s so narrow they have to walk in pairs. Shouyou clings to Koushi like a child, making it even more difficult for them to walk in their kimonos.
The woman stops and slides open a door to the left. It’s not a small room, but it’s barely big enough to fit two packs, let alone nine. “This is the separate room you reserved, Don Ushijima.”
Ushijima nods and turns to face them. “Hinata, you will remain in this room until I summon you.”
Shouyou grip tightens. “Alone?”
“Semi will stand guard by the door.”
“Can’t I stay with him?” Koushi pleads.
“No. As my mate, it is tradition to have you remain at my side.”
Squeezing past the people in front of him, Goshiki appears next to Shouyou, folding into a bow so quickly Koushi worries he might have whiplash. “Don Ushijima. Please allow me to stay with Shouyou as well.”
Ushijima pins Goshiki with a hard look, but decides the matter isn’t important enough to waste his time on. “Fine. Make sure no one sees Hinata until I say so.”
Goshiki bows a couple more times for good measure. “Thank you.”
Shouyou’s hand slips out from his elbow as Goshiki tugs him into the room. The look of fear and confusion haunt Koushi down the rest of the hallway and into a room at the very end. The doors have intricate printings of a tiger and a bird stuck in engaged combat, and are so large the host has to pull the doors apart one at a time. The other side reveals an expansive area with a low, mahogany table in the centre, with three pillows flanking a side.
Ushijima settles onto the pillow with his back to the entrance. The packs align themselves along the same wall behind him. Tendou slaps a pillow against Koushi’s chest and wheels him over to a space a little behind Ushijima on his left, and then Tendou drops his own pillow to Ushijima’s right. He copies the redhead and lowers himself onto his knees.
Snapping open his fan, Tendou lightly flicks to his wrist back and forth. “First again, as predicted. Some things never change, ey?”
“It would be suspicious for either of them to be early,” Oohira says from where he kneels alongside the other Shiratorizawa members. Two pillows remain empty by his side, reserved for Goshiki and Semi.
“Don Ushijima?” Their host croons. “Shall I bring out the Ryusen or the Zangyo sake for you and your associates?”
With his eyes closed, Ushijima answers, “Neither. Not yet.”
The woman hums. “She won’t be pleased to see a dry table.”
“We will begin with ginseng tea. If she wishes to drink herself to a stupor before lunch, she’s free to do it in her own time.”
“Ah, but he prefers matcha.”
Yamagata scowls, “Then bring ginseng and matcha. Stop wasting The Don’s energy with your nonsense!”
With a strange giggle from beneath her sleeve, the host bows her head. “Very well.”
“Why are the people here so strange?” Koushi mutters under his breath as the woman disappears.
“Dunno. Drugs, probably,” Tendou sighs. “They’re discreet and hold no ties with any of the three territories—almost unheard of for levels above the 150th mark—which is why we keep coming back here.”
As they wait for the other guests to arrive, Koushi surveys the room. It’s extremely plain aside from the cherry blossom illustrations, black and pink ink against an ivory canvas. The low table is the only piece of furniture, with a single overhead light haloing it. It seems like such a waste of space. So much more could be done to make it appealing—paintings, ornaments, decorations—anything.
But then he notices marks on the tatami mats, indents left behind by something that’d been there for a while. And then it dawns on him: the room has been stripped bare. It’s been stripped bare so that nothing can be used as a weapon.
Their efforts are in vain. A former stray is nothing if not resourceful. If they wanted to kill each other, they’d find something of use. Even if it’s their own obi fastened around someone’s neck.
Ushijima is on his third cup of tea by the time noise stirs behind the twin doors. Footsteps get rapidly louder and louder until the bird and tiger separate to welcome a tall man with golden eyes and a pearly-white grin.
“Hey, hey, hey! Wakatoshi, you beat me here yet again!”
Ushijima calmly lowers his cup of tea. “You are half an hour late, Don Bokuto.”
“What’s with the formalities still? We’ve known each other too long to be acting like strangers!”
Date, Seijoh and Shiratorizawa bow in the direction of Bokuto Koutarou and he waves half-heartedly in their direction. The West Side packs filter in after their Don: Bokuto’s pack, Fukuroudani; his closest allies, Nekoma; and another first-tier pack Sugawara guesses is Itachiyama. Tadashi and Kageyama both gasp when they recognise their former tutor walking among them, almost unrecognizable without his mask on.
Among the packs, Koushi’s gaze meets with Kuroo Tetsurou’s, but neither make any indication that they know each other. The man’s eyes dart amongst the South Side allies and linger at Koushi’s neck, as if he’s piecing something together. He couldn’t give Kuroo all the answers, even if they could speak freely with each other. He hasn’t seen Daichi since the night he was marked.
Bokuto settles onto his pillow to Ushijima’s right, with Kuroo and Akaashi Keiji behind him. His personal bodyguards, Sakusa Kiyoomi and a blonde man he doesn’t recognise, sit by the entrance alongside Hoshiumi and Hirugami.
“Another year come and gone—oh! Is this matcha? Aw Toshi-kun, you remembered my favourite tea!” Bokuto whistles as he pours himself a cup. “How do the tides ripple on the South Side?”
“Smoothly,” Ushijima grunts.
“Very good, very good. West Side has seen a prosperous year, and street crime is at an all-time low thanks to the youth initiative Keiji introduced to Lower Tokyo. Isn’t he just the greatest?”
“I do not see the benefit of improving Lower Tokyo,” Ushijima deadpans. “Your efforts are best focused on where power and influence lies. Senators and ministers care not for the livelihoods of strays.”
Bokuto blinks dumbly, uncertain on how to respond, but Akaashi answers on his behalf: “The betterment of strays benefits all of West Side. They are the blood of rogues and the future of our empire.”
Ushijima takes a sip of his tea. His expression is as unperturbed as ever, but Koushi can sense a slight unease as he matches Akaashi’s Aegean blue stare. “Struggle is what makes a rogue. Improving a stray’s life will make them soft and weak.”
“According to what statics?”
“I know from experience.”
“With all due respect, Don Ushijima, but what experience? You were born and raised here in Upper Tokyo.”
Silence strangles the atmosphere as their eyes bore into one another. Pheromones bleed like poison, the beta’s just as intense as the alpha’s. Koushi has never seen Ushijima so effected, especially by a beta; in private The Don would scoff at the mere idea of being intimidated by someone he’d consider lesser than. The tension is so condensed even the guards hang their heads from the pressure.
Bokuto snorts, slamming his cup down on the table, breaking the stare-off. He’s the only one unphased by the exchange. “Ey, ey—why the serious faces? We’re supposed to be having happy conversation! Why can’t you just say ‘congratulations’ or ‘that’s good to hear’ like a normal person, Wakatoshi?”
Relaxing back into his regular stiff position, he says, “You are right. Questioning West Side logic is akin to questioning the nature of a fish: there is no answer, it simply is.”
Bokuto looks back at Kuroo, who only shrugs. Akaashi’s eyes roll to the ceiling.
“I gotta admit, I’m a little surprised, Toshi-kun,” the West Side Don shifts gears so that Akaashi is well and truly out of the conversation’s focus. “I wouldn’t have thought I’d ever see Seijoh back in this room after everything that went down between you and Oikawa.”
Without so much as a cursory glance at Seijoh, Ushijima answers, “No, I thought not either.”
Bokuto blinks. “Then why have you invited them this year?”
“Last year, Seijoh attempted to slight me by stealing something valuable out from under me. I thought that inviting them here today would teach them a valuable lesson on the rules of power and where it belongs.”
There’s meaning hidden within Ushijima’s words, and Koushi reads it loud and clear: Oikawa is here to watch Shouyou be traded, as a thief might bid away the jewel of another thief’s. Because Shouyou isn’t only a thing of value. He represents the very thing that brought Seijoh misfortune. Today, Oikawa will witness Ushijima turn that misfortune for his own profit.
Bokuto chuckles. “You’ve always been cruel to your own packs. Small wonder why they stay loyal to you.”
“Fear. Fear keeps them loyal.”
The doors fly open so suddenly that Asahi screams. All heads snap to the entrance. A petite woman with a short bob-cut marches bare-foot into the room, lugging behind her a giant wood pipe almost as tall as she is. A black band is tied around her forehead and her dark blue hakama has white bamboo sticks sprouting up from the hem.
“Don’t worry, don’t get up. Big Sissy is here to make shit fun!” she cackles, dragging the pipe over the doorframe.
“Oh god.” Ryu ducks his head and turns away, but Saeko has already spotted him.
“My cute little Ryuu is here! What a surprise!” She reaches in amongst the sea of heads to drag Ryu out by the collar, locking an arm around his neck so he can’t escape. His face ends up squashed against her chest. “When I got wind you joined Shiratorizawa, I was waiting for you to contact me! Imagine my despair when you never so much as sent me a message!”
“Ugh! Let go!” he cries, failing to shove her off.
“Saeko-nee-san! You’re as pretty as ever!” Yuu yells.
She snorts, finally letting go of her brother and shoving him back on his pillow. “Of course I am, darling. It’s good to see you two in one piece. I thought for sure Upper Tokyo would chew you up and spit you back down into the bowels of the city.”
“Yeah we’re in one piece, no thanks to you,” Ryu grumbles, getting comfortable back on his pillow.
Kageyama whips around and gapes at him. “Wait—you’re related to Don Tanaka?”
Kei looks up at the ceiling. “Is there a philosophical reason why God creates some people to be this stupid?”
“You knew?”
The blonde alpha scoffs. “Of course I knew. Look at them, they’re the gender-swapped versions of each other.”
“Don’t act like you’ve seen Don Tanaka in person before!” Kageyama snaps.
Saeko’s East Side entourage enter, and the irritation left by his sister quickly dissipates when Ryu’s eyes fall upon a woman who walks among them. “K-Kiyoko!”
Shimizu Kiyoko has come a long way from the woman standing outside their apartment block every afternoon. The black hair that used to sit below her shoulders now brushes below her jawline, and her glasses have been replaced with contact lenses. She’s as beautiful as ever in a baby-blue kimono with white butterflies kissing the sleeves and hem.
“It’s been a while, Karasuno,” she murmurs, and bows in their direction before moving to sit to Saeko’s right.
“She’s so cool,” Yuu gushes.
“I know,” Ryu groans.
“Nee-san, over here!” A silver-haired boy with ridiculously long arms waves at the woman who settles to Saeko’s left.
She tosses a lock of long, fair hair behind her shoulder, her lips pulling into a dazzling smile. “Lyovochka, my sweetheart! Have you gotten taller?”
“Five centimetres since you last saw me!” he answers, beaming with pride.
Each Don makes a name for themselves through their actions. In all territories, Don Tanaka Saeko is known as the Sister of Rogues. Most known rogues of West and South Side are male-dominated, while the East are female-dominated. Omegas and betas are also more likely to earn roles of power in their underbelly, making her subordinates unique in that respect. For these reasons, the East Side is hailed as a sort of safe-haven for women of all classes.
Haiba Arisa, the woman to her left, is Don Tanaka’s mate. He can’t help but eye her pretty, flawless neck with envy.
Aside from Saeko’s mix-gendered pack, Toudou, there’s also the first-tier all-female pack Niiyama, and the first-tier all-male pack Inarizaki. A grey-haired man first-bumps Bokuto’s blonde bodyguard, the two mirrored images of each other.
“’Samu!”
“’Tsumu. Good to know you’re still the uglier twin.”
“I am not! Your hair makes you look ten years older!”
“Don’t rile him, Osamu,” a man with white hair and black tips sighs. “You’re only going to cause more trouble for Don Tanaka.”
Saeko eyes the table with a funny look once everyone has settled into their respective places, the mouth-piece of her pipe resting on her thigh. “Where’s the sake, Wakatoshi?”
A small grimace flashes across Ushijima’s face. “The day is still young. I’d rather we drank tea for the moment.”
“Why?” She scrunches her nose while a meek male omega stuffs tobacco into the bowl of her pipe. “Don’t be such a sour-puss, little Ushi-kun. It’s a special occasion, and special occasions call for special circumstances, no? Come on—let’s at least have one round of sake before we get down to business. It’s tradition after all!”
Ushijima frowns. “I do not remember sanctioning this tradition.”
She waves him off. “You don’t sanction traditions that existed before your reign, silly! Now—where’s the host at?”
After a volunteer from Saeko’s pack testes the four-hundred-thousand-yen sake, the three Dons toast, and Koushi learns through their connection that Ushijima doesn’t have the tongue for rice wine. He can almost feel his distaste in the way it burns the back of his throat.
Taking a lungful of smoke to cleanse her palette, Saeko tosses her head back and sighs to the ceiling, a happy blush tinting her cheeks. “That hits the spot.”
“Enough stalling. I’ve been here for forty-five minutes waiting for the both of you to arrive. The sooner business is settled the sooner we can have lunch.”
“What’s wrong? Did you skip breakfast or something?” Bokuto asks.
“No, he’s just impatient,” Tendou snickers.
Saeko leans on the table, smirking adoringly at Ushijima. “Why’s that then, Ushi-kun? It’s not like you’ve taken any interest in negotiations in the past.”
“I want to make a deal.”
Saeko’s eyebrows shoot up past her headband, making a noise of disbelief. The table trembles when Bokuto slaps his hands down on it, layering on his surprise a little too much. The Don of the West won’t have a career in acting anytime soon.
“You want to make a deal?” Bokuto exclaims. “Is the sky falling outside?”
Despite Koushi seeing straight through his façade, Ushijima doesn’t give any indication that he’s suspicious. “Yes. The deal I want to make is with you, Bokuto.”
Saeko smirks and leans back on her hand. “This should be interesting.”
Bokuto crosses his arms over his chest and pulls a serious face. “I’m listening.”
“I assume you’ve heard about my recent acquirement of a white pin?”
The golden-eyed alpha sweeps his eyes across the South Side packs and hums. “I caught wind before he was even verified. Are you hiding him from us, Toshi-kun?”
“Ah yes! Forgot to send a congratulatory letter.” Saeko brushes a piece of ash from her lap and rolls her eyes. “Don’t know how you managed to get your hands on a 97, but I trust you didn’t bribe the examiner to get it.”
“I did not,” Ushijima asserts coldly.
She nods. “Thought not. Where is he then? Kiyoko claims to have known him since he was a tyke, but I don’t believe her. Come on—I have good money riding on this bet!”
“In a moment. I want to explain my proposal first.”
Saeko sighs indignantly. “Fine. If you must.”
Adjusting himself on the pillow, Ushijima addresses Bokuto fully. “I’m willing to trade my white pin for Shinzui.”
“Shinzui, you say?” Bokuto rubs his chin. “One white pin for a chunk of vital territory is a hefty price to pay, don’t you think?”
“I’m willing to negotiate.”
“Instead of giving you Shinzui, I’ll give you Akahana instead, and you can throw in Seijoh as well.”
Akahana is Bokuto’s red-light district. Koushi wasn’t expecting it to even come up in negotiations, since large chunks of the Dons’ annual income are generated by the sex work peddled in those neighbourhoods.
There’s a beat of silence as Ushijima fully registers Bokuto’s answer. “You want Seijoh,” he says slowly.
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Aw at least consider it, Toshi-kun!”
“No.”
Tendou clears his throat and leans forward to speak in Ushijima’s ear. “It might actually be smart to think it over, Waka-chan.”
“I said no.”
“While Ushijima is thinking it over,” Akaashi butts in smoothly. “We would like to take a look at this white pin you’ve been gloating about. It’s in our best interest to make sure his value isn’t just hearsay.”
Ushijima’s eyebrows knit together as he leers at the beta. “It is not hearsay. I brought his certificate.”
Akaashi doesn’t bat an eye. “Regardless, we would like to meet him.”
The two stare at each other before Ushijima nods at Koushi over his shoulder. “Sugawara, bring him here.”
Koushi was so wrapped up in the Dons’ conversation that he almost forgot his own presence in the room. Bowing, he stumbles away like he’s lost the ability to walk. Shouyou and the others are where they left them, sitting at a table drinking tea.
“It’s time,” he forces out.
Semi and Goshiki lead, and Shouyou grips the back of Koushi’s obi as they shuffle back to the main room.
“Why was I singled out?” Shouyou whispers. “What’s going on?”
He doesn’t answer. He can’t answer. All he says is: “Stay strong, Shouyou. Just do as you’re told and everything will be fine.”
The Shiratorizawa members assume their places, leaving Koushi at the mercy of all the stares. He senses Shouyou coil further behind him. Coming to a deliberate stop a few paces from the table, he coaxes the younger omega out and urges him forward.
Shouyou stands there, frozen. He can’t even tell if the boy is breathing.
The awkward silence cuts short at a cough from someone (suspiciously sounding like Goshiki) in South Side’s sitting area. “Saikeirei, Shouyou!”
Flinching, the ginger drops to his knees and plants his forehead firmly to the floor. Bokuto and Saeko blink, before bursting into laughter. Tendou also snickers, but makes an effort to muffle it in his sleeve for Ushijima’s sake.
“That is not a saikeirei, Hinata,” Ushijima states bluntly.
Shouyou immediately snaps back, rubbing the back of his head. “O-Oh. I panicked.”
“He’s adorable!” Saeko gushes, her boobs brushing the table as she leans over to get a better look at him. “That little face! His eyes! His hair! Oh god I want to put him in my pocket and carry him everywhere I go!”
The ginger gives Saeko a dazed look, before spotting Kiyoko behind her. “Oh! Shimizu-san! What’re you doing here?”
Saeko whips her head around, and Kiyoko makes a peace-sign as if to say: “Told you so.” The East Side Don slaps herself and whines like a constipated cat. “Aw fuck! Not again!”
“You’re right though, Saeko-chan. He’s very cute,” Bokuto agrees, bobbing his head.
“Remove the choker,” Akaashi commands.
Despite his disgruntlement, Ushijima beckons Semi forward to unlock Shouyou’s choker. With careful grace, Akaashi then cups the side of Shouyou’s face, rubbing his fingers over his scent gland as if looking for any signs of a coverup. The omega shivers, but doesn’t resist, too fearful of the consequences.
“He’s unmarked,” Akaashi confirms once he’s satisfied.
“But is he a virgin?” Bokuto asks, his eyes sliding from Shouyou to Ushijima. “How can we know for certain?”
“You think I would run the risk of trading tainted goods? I’m not a fool. You would find out eventually and call the deal off. But if you must, you’re free to examine him.”
Akaashi stands, offering his hand to Shouyou. The ginger looks back at Koushi, searching for permission, and he smiles and nods.
“I’ll take him to a private room.”
“I’ll go with them,” Koushi says. “To make sure things go smoothly,” he adds when Ushijima looks as if he’s about to shut down the idea.
“Fine. Be quick about it.”
They go back to the room Shouyou was waiting in, but before Akaashi can enter, Koushi grabs him by the arm. “Akaashi, is this really necessary? Do you really think Ushijima would try to shorthand Bokuto like this?”
The two of them are just shy of acquaintances. He’s only met Akaashi a handful of times along with Don Bokuto. Daichi is on good terms with most West Side packs thanks to Kuroo, meaning their paths crossed occasionally. He wouldn’t claim to be an expert, but this level of paranoia seems woefully out of character for someone as level-headed as Akaashi.
The beta cracks a small, mysterious smile. “No, I don’t.”
Koushi frowns and follows Akaashi into the room. Shouyou tugs at the lapels of his kimono, staring down at his socked feet. “Do I … Do I take my kimono off?”
“Relax. I’m not going to examine you, Hinata.” Akaashi places his hands gently on the omega’s shoulder. “We don’t care if you’re a virgin or not.”
Big round eyes look up at the beta, mouth agape in confusion. “Then why …?”
Akaashi settles on the floor and encourages Koushi and Shouyou to do the same. “The Gathering of the Tides is a complex dance. As a Don you must strike a balance between power and harmony; you must be open enough to remain on good terms with the other territories, but never reveal weakness.”
Realisation creeps up on Koushi. “This is just for show?”
Akaashi nods. “Scepticism is another way of showing power. Bokuto knows this. All we need to do is wait for a little while, and then we can return.”
Shifting uncomfortably, Shouyou asks, “Akaashi-san, was it? Can you please tell me what’s going on? Why does Don Bokuto care if I’m a virgin?”
The beta’s eyes fall on Koushi. “He doesn’t know?”
He swallows his guilt and slowly shakes his head.
“Know what?”
The beta takes a moment to mull over whether or not to be frank with Shouyou. Koushi doesn’t know whether he wants Akaashi to keep Shouyou in the dark or be brave enough to tell him the truth.
Resolve hardens in Akaashi’s eyes and he finally answers: “Ushijima intends to trade you to Bokuto in exchange for territory on the West Side.”
The shock and betrayal that twists onto Shouyou’s face feels like a punch to the gut. Instinctively, he reaches for the younger omega, only for Shouyou to catch him off-guard by springing to his feet and marching out of the room. Akaashi and Koushi stare at each other before hurrying after him. Koushi breaks into a sprint when he sees Shouyou throwing open the twin doors at the very end of the corridor.
By the time they’ve reached the room, it’s too late. Shouyou is already standing over Ushijima, his shoulders heaving. “You’re trading me away?!”
Ushijima doesn’t even look up at Shouyou, continuing to sip at his tea. “You are a white pin. That is your purpose.”
“My purpose is to stay by my pack’s side!” he snarls. “You can’t take me away from them—you can’t! I’m not—I’m not just some object you can pawn off because it suits you. I’m a fucking human being with a family and you can’t do this to me!”
Quiet blankets the room. Koushi wants to drop to his knees and apologise profusely on Shouyou’s behalf, if only to salvage what’s left of the situation, but he can’t. His legs won’t move.
“I will forgive you just this once, Hinata, since your intellect leaves much to be desired. If IQ factored into your value grade, you would be useless to me.” Ushijima pauses to put down his tea. He tilts his head, for the first time looking Shouyou in the eyes. “You are my property. You have been from the moment you joined Karasuno. I’m free to do as I please with you. If I wanted your head mounted on my wall I’d make so; if I wanted you set on fire in the middle of parliament, I would make it so. You are mine until I say otherwise. Now, get on your hands and knees and apologise to everyone in this room for your impertinence.”
But Shouyou doesn’t move.
Bokuto clears his throat awkwardly. “That’s not nece—”
“Get on your knees, Hinata Shouyou, and apologise to everyone in this room, or I will strip you down and have you sitting through the rest of this meeting bare as a whore in heat.”
The crude threat breaks something inside Shouyou in that moment, and before anyone can react, he has Ushijima in a chokehold facing the South Side packs, the pointed tip of his white pin pressing against his carotid artery. The entire room holds their breath. A scream tears through Koushi’s throat. He wants to shakes the boy’s shoulders and ask him what the fuck has gotten into him.
Shouyou isn’t looking at Ushijima; he’s looking at Shiratorizawa and Karasuno with a pained expression, as if he can’t even recognize them.
“How long have you all known?” Shouyou yells, his hand trembling. “Sugawara? Kageyama? Tsutomu …? How long have you known I’d be traded off like a goddamn goat, huh? How fucking long?”
Koushi flinches. Shouyou almost never swears. It’s one of the few lessons he instilled in the boy. “Shouyou, I—”
“How long!?” He screams.
He wants to give the boy an answer, but his lips won’t cooperate. Their silence is enough. Too long. They’ve known too long.
“Why am I always the last person to know? Did any of you think that maybe I had a right to know about something like this? Why? Why didn’t any of you tell me?” His voice breaks at the end, and Koushi feels as if his heart is being ripped from his chest.
“Whether you knew or not, the outcome would have remained the same,” Ushijima says with the slightest edge in his voice.
“Shut up!” Shouyou cries.
“You said you had a right to know, but I couldn’t disagree more. Your fate was never in your hands, Hinata. You only had one use to me from the moment you became a white pin. If you had better perception than a tree stump perhaps you would have figured things out a lot sooner.”
All the pent-up resentment and frustration reaches its breaking point, and with a burst of emotion, Shouyou drives the white pin into Ushijima’s eye. The sharp pain has Ushijima jolting back, throwing the omega off and sending him tumbling over the table to the other side. He knocks over the four-hundred-thousand-yen sake in the process and it spills all over Saeko’s hakama. Don Ushijima’s yells bounce off the ceiling as he clutches his eye, a trail of crimson seeping down through the gaps in his fingers.
Tendou leers darkly at Shouyou from across the room. “You little shit.”
“I’m gonna kill you!” Semi snarls, leaping to his feet.
Kuroo and Kiyoko move to block him, but before a brawl can break out, Ushijima’s roar stuns them all in place. “No!”
Tendou cocks his head to the side. “You don’t want us to kill him?”
Ignoring his righthand man, Ushijima yanks the pin out of his eye, the white pearly tip tainted a bloody red. He slams it down on the table in front of Bokuto. “You can have Seijoh,” he growls, and then points at Shouyou, “as long as you take that thing with you. I don’t care about the rules. If I ever see that omega again, I’ll fuck him to death. Understood?”
Bokuto nods slackly.
Ushijima gives Shouyou one lingering, deadly stare through his good eye before rising. “I’m going to the hospital. The rest of you carry on for the remainder of the meeting,” he tells Tendou before vanishing down the hallway, Hoshiumi and Hirugami stalking after him.
Chapter 23: Futigives from the Lawless
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
The tension weighs the pack down as they make the short journey back to the apartment. No one has words for what took place at the Gathering of the Tides. Shiratorizawa vary from anger at Shouyou to concern for their Don; and in Tsutomu’s case, it’s both. Shouyou isn’t sorry for stabbing Ushijima in the eye. He’d do it again if he had the chance. But he is sorry for upsetting Tsutomu, and has to make peace with the fact that this is probably the end of their friendship.
Karasuno are worried, but for different reasons. Sugawara and Kageyama walk closely at Shouyou’s sides, glancing at the Shiratorizawa members as if expecting a sudden attack. Noya and Tanaka shoot daggers into the back of Semi’s head, while Tsukishima keeps his attention trained on Tendou.
Shouyou isn’t scared. An ugly part of him wishes they’d attack, just so he had excuse to punch someone.
Lunch had awkwardly crawled along at a snail’s pace. The tension was too sickening to stomach, so eventually Saeko suggested they retire early. In that time, Shouyou hoped the adrenaline would vanish, that the rage would dim and leave him exhausted enough to sleep away the rest of this awful day.
But it’s the opposite. He’s seething.
What did anything he achieve mean in the end? A deal’s still a deal, and he came away losing everything. A missing eye didn’t deter Ushijima from verbally signing away his fate; in fact, Shouyou probably sealed it the moment he pulled The Don into a headlock. Now he has to resign himself to a life without his pack—his family, the people who took him in off the streets and gave him food, a home, love. All because what? Because Ushijima wants a bit of land and some more money. Why would he even need more money? What’s the point of getting richer if you’re already filthy rich?
But it doesn’t matter in the end though, does it?
A deal’s still a deal, and he came away losing everything.
“You knew,” Shouyou accuses Kageyama as he follows him into the lounge. The alpha looks back at him. Closing the gap, he fists the front of Kageyama’s haori. “You knew Ushijima would trade me away to somebody, didn’t you?”
Kageyama gulps, his voice thick. “I suspected.”
“And you never thought to talk to me about it?”
A glimmer of pain, so brief and so mild Shouyou almost misses it, flashes across Kageyama’s eyes before his expression turns cold. “Why talk about the inevitable? It’s not like it changes anything.”
He has to refrain from throttling him. “Do you even care? Did you even think to stand up for me during negotiations? Why didn’t you fight for me!? Don’t you care?! Why don’t you—ugh!” He shoves the alpha away. “What did any of it mean? Did you even—do you even—” he has to stop before the words strangle him. “You’re gonna let me go? You’re really gonna to let this happen?”
Say you won’t let me go …
Kageyama turns away from him. He can’t see his face when he says, “Just do as your told, Hinata.”
His grits his teeth. “What? Like a good omega then?”
Say you won’t let me go.
Kageyama won’t look at him.
“That’s it then. I’m going to be handed over to another pack and you’re just OK with that?”
Say you won’t let me go!
“It’s for the best.”
“You don’t know that!”
Kageyama exhales shakily. “I do.”
A deal’s still a deal, and he came away losing everything.
Up until this point, Karasuno stood by watching the exchange without a word. Sugawara breaks the silence by placing his hands on Shouyou’s shoulders and guiding him towards the staircase. “You’ve had a long day, Shouyou. Why don’t you change into something more comfortable and rest for a little while?”
“There won’t be time for that.” Heads snap in Shirabu’s direction as he emerges from the dining area, phone in hand. “New orders from Don Ushijima. He wants Hinata out of the apartment by midnight. Bokuto’s men will be waiting by the bridge in No Man’s Tower to receive him.”
“Midnight?!” Tanaka, Tadashi and Noya yell at the same time.
Sugawara whips around to face the other omega. “That’s too soon! Shouyou was supposed to have a week to prepare!”
“And Hinata would’ve had a week to prepare, if he hadn’t stabbed our leader in the eye,” Shirabu bites back. His glare falls to the omega in question, any endearment he might’ve had for him completely wiped from his face. “Semi and Kawanishi will help you pack your things. Any possessions you leave behind will be burned.”
The alphas drop nine black duffle bags onto his bed and start emptying out his closet. Shouyou watches them from the desk, surrounded by his pack.
Sugawara scowls at how they haphazardly stuff items into the bags. “Enough! Enough! We’ll do the packing. I’ll come find one of you when we’re done.”
Azumane closes the door once Shiratorizawa are out of their hair. Everyone from Karasuno is there except Sawamura and Kageyama, the latter having gone off to sulk somewhere. Sugawara takes the clothes out of the bags and starts folding them. Tadashi moves to help him. Noya clears the shelves in the bathroom while Azumane sorts Shouyou’s school work into one bag. Tsukishima coordinates the piles into casual, smart-casual and formal, and Tanaka sorts through his manga collection. Shouyou doesn’t move from the desk chair, and nobody expects him to.
He should feel bad for letting his family do all the work. It’s his stuff; he should be the one to pack it all away. He just … can’t. He can’t do it. The clothes, the books, the schoolwork, the photos … that’s his life, that’s everything he has, and it’s all being stuffed away into bags and he just—
Resting his forehead on his arm, he concentrates on forcing back the emotions swelling up inside him. He can’t break down. Not now. They don’t need to see him that way. They’ve been through enough.
For the first time since they moved to Upper Tokyo, they order take-out and sit on the floor of Shouyou’s bedroom, eating among the piles of clothes and bags. Even Kageyama joins them for a little bit, but once he’s had his fill, he uses some excuse to leave.
“Kageyama,” Shouyou calls as the alpha opens the door, his back facing them. I want you to look at me. Just look at me one last time.
But the alpha doesn’t linger. When Shouyou doesn’t say anything more, he gently pulls the door shut behind him. Shouyou stares. Tsukishima scowls into his noodle box and mutters “moron” under his breath.
At eleven, Kawanishi and Semi come to get the bags, two duffle bags for each hand, while Shouyou carries the ninth bag with his toiletries over his shoulder. None of the other Shiratorizawa members come to see him off, which he expects. As they make their way towards the front door, he turns at the sound of his name echoing from upstairs.
Tsutomu appears, out of breath, leaning over the railing of the spiral staircase, looking down at them. “I won’t hesitate, Shouyou. I—I won’t hesitate to bring you to Don Ushijima if I ever see you again!”
With a confused smile, Shouyou only says: “I wouldn’t expect anything less of you. Oh—and Tsutomu?” He blinks rapidly, trying to keep his voice in check. “You’re a great class president. Your classmates don’t deserve you.”
Tsutomu goes pink. “O-Oh.”
Bowing, he follows Semi, Kawanishi and the rest of his pack out the front door without a second glance at the apartment. Leaving this place is the easiest part. It was never his home to begin with—not really. Not like their apartment back in Lower Tokyo was.
Fingers lace with his own and he looks up to see Sugawara smiling at him. Azumane offers to carry his bag as they head for the elevators, and as Shouyou hands it over he looks around at the members of his pack.
“Kageyama …?”
Sugawara squeezes his hand. “He said he didn’t want to come.”
“Oh …”
He’s made the trip to No Man’s Tower hundreds of times to go to school or to go shopping, and it always felt monotonous. Now he doesn’t want the trip to end.
As they step out of the elevators and approach the bridge, his stomach starts to fall. If he looks past their reflections highlighted on the glass against the night backdrop, he can see the sliver of a silver moon breaking through a cotton tuft of clouds.
Sugawara tugs him along. “Come on, Shouyou.”
At the mouth of the bridge, two men stand waiting for them. Shouyou perks up when he recognises one of them. “Sakusa-san! You’ve come to get me?”
His former tutor and his blonde companion have since changed out of their traditional wear into suits becoming of upper-class alphas. Half of Sakusa’s face hides beneath a mask, his dark locks falling over his left eye and his stare quiet but intense. The man beside him is marginally shorter, with sleepy, coffee-brown eyes and a lop-sided smirk. The pair are ridiculously handsome standing side by side.
The alpha gives a small wave, and nods towards the bags. “Those Shouyou’s?”
Semi bobs his head as they dump the bags on the floor. “Everything he owns are in these bags.”
“Good of Don Ushijima to let him keep his stuff,” the blonde man drawls. “Was half expecting him to be kicked out in just his underwear.”
Sakusa glares. “He’s sixteen, Atsumu.”
“I didn’t mean it like that!”
The dark-haired alpha checks his phone and throws several of the duffle bags over his shoulders. “If we want to get to Western Heights before midnight, we’d better leave soon.”
Shouyou turns to his pack. He sees the sadness on their faces and it hits him that this is it. This will be the last time he gets to see his pack.
Noya tackles him into a firm embrace, and Azumane picks them both up and squeezes the life out of them. Shouyou shrieks and chokes on a laugh, hugging them back with as much strength as his arms can muster. Tanaka gets a hold of him next, locking him under his arm and rubbing his knuckle into the crown of his head. Then Tadashi sniffles into his neck, and he can feel the beta resisting the urge to scent him. Tsukishima stands off to the side. He makes no indication that he wants a hug, so Shouyou respects his personal space by throwing his arms around his waist and hugging him so hard the alpha groans. But he hugs back half-heartedly—that’s the equivalent of a declaration of love in Tsukishima language.
Sugawara pulls him against his chest, burying his nose in his mop of curls. “Never forget who you are, Shouyou. Never.”
Shouyou shakes his head. “I don’t want to go,” he whispers.
Sugawara holds him tight, and Tanaka sniffs. “We don’t want you to go either.”
“We’ll miss you, Shouyou!” Noya shouts as he comforts a sobbing Azumane hunched over his shoulder.
“Make lots of new friends.” Tadashi’s bottom lip trembles.
“Try not to piss off too many murderers,” Tsukishima says.
Releasing him and stepping back, Sugawara cups the side of Hinata’s face. “Be safe.”
“If you see Sawamura again …” His eyes fall to his feet, his teeth digging into his bottom lip. “Tell him I miss him… and—and thank you.”
The older omega’s eyes soften. “I will.”
Grabbing one of the bags, he trots after Sakusa and the blonde man, waving at his pack over his shoulder.
“We love you, Shouyou!” Yamaguchi’s shout echo across the retail district.
“Don’t let those West Side alphas push you around, Shouyou!”
“Make sure you eat three times a day!”
“Shouyou!” He looks back to see Koushi in tears. “When we fly …!”
A grin breaks out on Shouyou’s face, and he screams back: “We fly together!”
They cross over No Man’s Tower to the bridge connecting to Western Heights and take an elevator all the way up to the 178th floor. The corridor they enter has black carpet with gold vines weaved through it in a symmetrical pattern, and the walls and doors are ivory. They stop at number 1788.
The moment they’re through the door Shouyou collapses to his knees.
It doesn’t matter that he’s in an unfamiliar place. It doesn’t matter that he’s surrounded by unfamiliar people. The dam he’d built up over the course of the day has burst, and he doesn’t have the strength or the will to keep it in any longer. A hand pats him on the back as he wails into his fists. It might be Sakusa, it might not. He doesn’t bother to look.
He’s an idiot. Such an idiot.
It couldn’t have been written plainer for him to see. Ushijima was going to trade him, and he was the last to figure it out.
Maybe Kageyama’s right. Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered if he knew or not. What could he have done? What could they have done?
He’ll never get to cuddle with Koushi again …
Never get to cheer his senpai on at the arcade, or get piggyback rides from Azumane …
Never get to vent his frustrations to Tadashi, or argue with Tsukishima …
Never get to listen to Sawamura’s wisdom …
Or hold Kageyama’s hand …
Tiny little tears rip open his heart. His fingers bunch the fabric of his kimono as he clutches his chest; droplets wetting the floorboards. He cries until he can’t breathe, until he’s coughing and there’s pain throbbing behind his eyes, until there’s nothing left to give.
“Hey, hey, hey—we can’t have you sad on your first night here!” Big, strong arms scoop him up, and he looks through his tears into Don Bokuto’s smiley demeanour. “Don’t worry! Uncle Bokuto’s here to make everything better!”
That voice he’s using—that deep, fond crooning—Shouyou’s heard it before. It’s the voice alphas use when speaking to the omegas in their pack. The alphas in Karasuno never spoke to him like that. Maybe it’s because they knew him for longer as an Unpresented pup, and were used to talking to him a certain way.
Shouyou can’t say he minds it. It’s soothing, like ointment over a burn.
Then it hits him, and he tenses. He’s in the arms of one of the three deadliest people in the city. And he’s warm, and smiley, and—and soft? Is this happening right now? Oh god, this is happening right now.
For some reason he had it in his head that all Dons acted like Ushijima.
“Don’t scare him,” Akaashi warns, appearing behind Bokuto’s shoulder. He reaches out and brushes the tears from his cheeks. “You’re safe now, Hinata. No harm will come to you here. Sakusa, Atsumu—leave the bags in the hallway.”
Bokuto carries him through a corridor into a sitting area and plops down on a couch.
The lounge room isn’t anything like what he’s seen of Ushijima’s apartment, or even of the apartment he lived in with the rest of Shiratorizawa. It threads a balance between rustic and modern, with an overhead iron-ring chandelier and wood panelled ceilings, a white brick fireplace and a flatscreen above the mantlepiece. A bowl of silver fruit sits on an oak coffee table, alongside a little woollen pouch of coasters. Never would he have thought to describe a Don’s place as ‘cosy’, but Shouyou should learn by now to expect the unexpected.
“Ah, if it isn’t the bane of my existence.”
He pulls away from Bokuto’s chest to frown at the man sitting on the adjacent couch. “O-Oikawa?”
“The one and only.” Seijoh’s leader sits in the traditional clothes he must’ve worn to the meeting, looking like a beautiful disaster. The hair he usually styles with so much care is mussed, and his eyes are puffy and swollen.
Shouyou frowns. “What are—what are you doing here?”
“Hm, a lack of manners seems to run strong with you crows, doesn’t it?” He folds his leg over the other, sinking further into the couch cushions. “I’ve been thrown into the proverbial boat alongside you, Chibi-chan. Better grab a bucket and start throwing water, ‘cuz it’s sinking fast.”
Akaashi sits down beside Bokuto, and Sakusa and Atsumu linger by the fireplace.
Shouyou rubs his eye with the palm of his hand. “W-What?”
Picking at his nails, Oikawa says, “Oh, haven’t you heard? We’ve been branded enemies of South Side.”
He shoots up. “What!”
Akaashi pulls up an alert on his phone and shows it to Shouyou. It’s his second-year high school photo, taken not two weeks prior, and below it a text that reads: ‘Hinata Shouyou – 100 million yen maimed; 200 million yen unharmed.’ Below his is an image of Oikawa. It looks like a professional photo taken for his ID. Underneath it reads: ‘Oikawa Tooru – 70 million yen dead; 90 million yen alive.’
“These … these are—”
“Bounties. Ushijima has sent these out to every rogue in the city,” Akaashi explains as he takes back his phone.
Oikawa feathers his fingers through his hair. “I have to say, I’m a little disappointed. Only 90 million if I’m caught alive? Why does Chibi-chan get the star treatment while I’m stuck with a mongrel’s price tag?”
He fists the front of Bokuto shirt, anxiety stampeding in to replace the heartache. “What does this mean?”
A small frown pinches between the beta’s eyebrows. “Nothing good. With a price this high, every rogue will be on the lookout for you. You won’t be able to go to school, or be seen out in the open. Maybe some might go as far as to try and get into our apartment, but I don’t see that as a feasible scenario.”
Ah, back to square one. “Not a big deal I guess,” he mutters, crossing his arms over his chest. “I’m used to being hidden away. But hang on—why’s Oikawa have a bounty? What’d he do?”
“Well, I suppose now that Ushijima can no longer torment me in his own territory, he’s found a way to do it indirectly.” Oikawa sighs. “Truthfully though, I think he blames me in some way for making this mess. You were supposed to be mine originally, Chibi-chan, until that wacko Tendou crashed the party and found out what Dai-chan and I were scheming behind Shiratorizawa’s feathers. And well, if I’d taken an interest, then Ushijima had no choice but to take an interest in you too. He doesn’t like it when others play with his toys after all.
“I should count it as a blessing. At least Seijoh get to live peacefully in Middle Tokyo. Iwa-chan will make a good leader in my place; maybe he’ll be even better—though I doubt it. Who could be better than me?”
“So …” Shouyou blinks. “You’re joining Bokuto’s pack?”
Oikawa taps the back of the couch, lips pulling with distaste. “Not exactly.”
Bokuto adjusts Shouyou in his arms. He nearly jumps out of his skin when he feels the purr vibrate deep within The Don’s chest. “You and Oikawa are going to be the best of friends!”
Oikawa scowls. “Don’t say it like that. I used to be one of the deadliest assassins in the city. Now I’m nothing more than a glorified babysitter.”
Bokuto pouts. “Who said you can’t be both?”
“We’ve decided that Oikawa will be your personal bodyguard,” Akaashi explains. “Sakusa originally volunteered for the job, but now that the circumstances have changed, we think Oikawa would be a perfect fit.”
“Yeah! And the two of you can bond over your shared history—you’re both from South Side and you both hate Ushijima’s guts. It’s gonna be great!” Bokuto laughs, ruffling Shouyou’s head of hair. “But it’s getting pretty late, and we’ve all had a long day. We’ll take you to your rooms and we can chat more about this in the morning. What d’you say?”
They’re taken to joint bedrooms at the end of a hallway deep inside the massive apartment (or would ‘house’ be more accurate?).
“Hinata’s bedroom can only be accessed through Oikawa’s,” Akaashi says as he guides them into the first room, a pair of keys in his hand. “Oikawa’s room can only lock from the inside, while Hinata’s room can only be locked from the outside. This way Oikawa will be the only one to have access to Hinata at night—but I have a copy of all the keys in case of emergencies, of course.”
“Can’t we just leave him locked away forever? It’d make my life so much easier,” Oikawa groans, but they ignore him.
“You both have your own bathrooms.” Bokuto throws open Oikawa’s bathroom door and flips on the light. “Pretty sweet, huh?”
“A bedroom with an ensuite. How revolutionary.”
Bokuto pouts. “Aw, at least try to look on the bright side, Oikawa-san!”
“There’s no ‘bright side’ to be found in this black pit of despair,” he sighs with a hand over his heart like a thespian actor.
Akaashi takes them into the connecting room that is to be Shouyou’s new bedroom. A massive window stretches from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, and Shouyou is immediately drawn to the view overlooking the San Tokyo skyline.
“What! He gets a window?” Oikawa whines.
“The view is beautiful from up here, isn’t it?” Akaashi asks Shouyou.
Most of what can be seen is part of Middle Tokyo, with its corporate skyscrapers and its vibrant parks; but it doesn’t hold Shouyou’s interest for long. His eyes wonder further out to the layer of fog obscuring Lower Tokyo. Its distance lingers like a memory; far like the horizon at the end of a clear day.
“It is beautiful.” He turns back towards the room, to the modern king-sized bed with its three-meter-long headboard and its inbuilt shelves. To the arching mirror taking up the wall opposite the window, and the wall-length wardrobe with sliding glass doors. To the ensuite with its own window overlooking the city, and the open shower with a single pane of glass.
Bokuto slaps Oikawa on the back with a grin, and Sakusa and Atsumu are by the door bickering about something under their breaths. Shouyou gets this eery feeling that he’s more at home here than he ever was at Shiratorizawa’s place. It’d only be too easy for him to settle in, to get used to a life here.
And a part of him doesn’t want to.
“They let me go,” he says to himself. Akaashi looks at him. “They let me go because they knew I’d have a better life here.”
Akaashi puts a hand on his shoulder. “Tomorrow, you’ll meet the rest of your new pack. We already have the papers filled out and signed, ready to be handed over on Monday to admin.”
Frowning, he looks up at the beta. “You seem very … prepared for all this.”
“A certain someone let slip Ushijima’s plans months in advance, so we had plenty of time to make the necessary arrangements for you.”
His eyes widen. “Who?”
“Your leader.”
He gasps. “Sawamura? You guys spoke to Sawamura? When? Is he OK? Is he injured?”
It’s Akaashi’s turn to frown. “Sometime in January, but our sources lost contact with him shortly after that.”
Shouyou deflates. “Oh.”
“Do you know what happened to him?”
“Sawamura found out Ushijima marked Sugawara, and he attacked Shiratorizawa—they … they beat him up pretty bad and took him away. We haven’t seen him since. I’m not even sure—” But he cuts off before he can speak the thought into existence.
Akaashi nods and pats him on the back. “We’ll find him.”
He perks up, whirling to face the beta with hope in his eyes. “You will?”
“Of course.” Akaashi smiles. “Daichi is a friend.”
Shouyou is in better spirits when everyone says their goodnights. Sakusa pins Oikawa with a sharp look over Shouyou’s shoulder and says: “Our rooms are across the hall. If Oikawa is inappropriate or makes you uncomfortable in any way, tell us and we’ll handle it, OK?”
Oikawa scoffs, pulling his toiletries out of his suitcase. “Do I look like a pervert to you? Besides, I’m not into prepubescents thank you very much.”
Shouyou scowls. “Prepubescent?” He scrunches his face at Sakusa. “What does that mean again?”
Sakusa shakes his head. “I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Night, Shouyou!” The blonde waves frantically from behind Sakusa. “Nice meeting you—I’m Miya Atsumu by the way! I’m the hottest alpha in this house—thought you ought to know!”
Sakusa tilts the door so that Atsumu isn’t in view anymore. “Ignore the idiot. He’s still relatively new to the household.”
“Oi!”
“Oikawa, don’t forget to lock this door before you go to bed,” Sakusa says, and Oikawa throws a hand over his shoulder to indicate that he heard. “Goodnight, Hinata.”
“Shouyou,” he says shyly. “You can call me Shouyou.”
As Oikawa is carrying an armful of different lotions into his ensuite, Shouyou tugs at his obi and realises he’s not going to be able to get out of it by himself. “Um—Oikawa?”
“Mm?” His voice echoes off the bathroom tiles.
“Can you uh—help me with this?”
Oikawa pokes his head out the door and sees Shouyou tugging at his kimono. His eyebrows narrow. “Is this some sort of test? Did Sakusa put you up to this? Akaashi?”
“No,” Shouyou blushes, “this is my first time in a kimono. I don’t know how to get out of it.”
“Fine. I’ll help you with the obi, but once that’s off you’re on your own.”
“Fair.”
Once Shouyou has changed into his pyjamas and gotten ready for bed, he lingers at the door to his ensuite, staring at the large king-sized mattress. It seems to stare straight back at him, mocking him.
“Oikawa?”
The alpha appears with a toothbrush in his mouth, a headband pushing his hair back, and a facemask covering half his face. “Whas’it mow?”
He rubs his socked toe over his other foot and tugs at a lock of his hair. “Will you sleep in my bed with me?”
Without a moment’s consideration, Oikawa marches back into his room and slams the door behind him. He hears a ‘click’ a few seconds later, indicating that he’s been locked in.
Shouyou sighs. “I didn’t think so.”
It’s been a long time since he last slept by himself. He doesn’t see the harm in trying just for one night. What’s the worst that could happen …?
*
The sound of his heartbeat echoes across the dark, empty shopping district, as flighty and quick as a hare’s. On the weekends the level bustles with customers, milling around in the hundreds like blood cells splitting off through artery canals. Shouyou has never seen the place so desolate and empty. Shadows cast on window mannequins and unlit signs, distorting the retail plaza in a nightmarish ambience.
His bare feet slap against the tiles and he ducks under a display fern. There’s a familiar tune wailing softly in the distance; the elevator music he hears almost every day, only its slow and eery. His breathing’s shallow, but it’s too loud in the abandoned area.
He listens.
The fountain nearby is off so there’s no water running. In the distance, he hears faint but heavy footsteps, like that have a behemoth slogging through a mountain range.
Ghoong … Ghoong … Ghoong …
He peers out from under the fern leaf. Chairs are strewn about as if people got up and left in a hurry. There’s balls of litter scattered by the legs of tables, and a half-eaten sandwich still in its wrapping. The domelike ceiling has screens that imitate the outside sky, as if masquerading as faux windows, but tonight they project only static.
A hand grabs him by the back of his shirt. He slowly turns his head to see a pair of glowing, yellow eyes. It’s Semi. Only, it isn’t him at all.
Wrenching out of the grip and rolling out from his hiding spot, he sprints as fast as he can across the sitting area and into a women’s boutique. His heart thunders—not just in his ears—but everywhere, as if it’s been hooked up to the speakers throughout the plaza.
Dozens of mannequins pose throughout the boutique. Not a single one of them is a complete set; they’re missing limbs or missing heads, with dresses falling off their torsos and belts hanging down their thighs. The racks are barren save for a bralette or a singlet here and there, nursing hundreds of wire coat hangers between them. The elevator music croons along with the beat of his heart, like sirens serenading the souls of the dead.
And in the distance: Ghoong … Ghoong … Ghoong …
Shouyou eyes the mannequins, stepping across fallen plaster and weaving in and out of shadows towards the back of the store.
The curtains leading to the fitting rooms dance, but there isn’t a breeze.
His reaches out to touch the fabric, and a hand snaps out from behind to grab his wrist. He screams and jerks back, and catches sight of yellow eyes leering beneath a chopped fringe. “Sh-Shirabu?”
The boy doesn’t answer. He tries pulling him into the curtains and Shouyou breaks free, fleeing from the store.
Everywhere he goes he sees yellow eyes. Kawanishi corners him in a bathroom, Oohira blocks him from getting to the elevators, and Tendou finds him hiding under a bed. At some point he tries looking for a clock, praying for dawn, but none of the clocks are working. The digital ones jump to different numbers at a rapid pace and are impossible to read. Staring at them for too long gives him vertigo. He tries calling for help whenever he gets his hands on a phone, but they’re either silent or disconnected.
And still in the distance, but a little louder: Ghoong … Ghoong … Ghoong …
Frustrated tears prick at his eyes as he slams down another dead phone. He leaps over the counter of the fast-food kiosk and jogs down a lane of clothing stores. The heads of mannequins follow him now, some even with their hands pressed against the glass.
A green exit sign glows up ahead, and he makes a sharp turn into the corridor, his heart in his throat. But someone’s waiting there for him. A rigid silhouette with its fists coiled and its head tilted.
“Tsutomu?”
It snaps his head, eyes opening. Glowing yellow.
The unsettling stillness lasts a moment, and then it moves, heading straight for him. Shouyou bolts out of the corridor and goes back the way he came. If he can’t get to the stairwell, he’ll have to get to one of the bridges.
On his way west, he stumbles across a furniture store. He knows the bridge is his safest bet, that it’ll be the thing to get him out of this terrible place, but his feet move on their own, taking him through the jungle of wardrobes, chairs, tables and beds. If he can find somewhere good, he can hide out until the shops open and he’ll stop being chased.
A large chest catches his eye, nestled between a display cabinet and a pile of books. It’s the right size, just big enough for him to fit inside.
He glances around quickly, scared that he’s spent too long out in the open. Throwing open the chest, he climbs inside and shuts it, bathing him in total darkness.
The footsteps he’s been hearing have gotten louder. Great, heavy thuds that shake the ground and cause the furniture to tremble.
Ghoong …
It’s in the store. He can tell by how the wood groans and the glass stutters.
Ghoong …
It’s getting louder.
Ghoong …
He holds his breath. It’s heading towards the chest.
Ghoong …
Then it stops, right outside the chest. Shouyou hugs his knees, trembling. The chest opens. He slaps a hand over his mouth to catch his whimper, slowly tilting his head up to look into the yellow glare staring down at him.
“Found you,” Ushijima murmurs.
A scream rips from Shouyou’s throat as he jerks awake, his stomach coiled in knots. He left the lamp on in the hopes that it’d help him sleep, but it only proves to further disorient him as he frantically searches the room for some semblance of familiarity. He keeps screaming, throwing himself against the closest door he finds. When he realises it’s locked, he panics even more, banging the heel of his palm against it and sobbing hysterically.
He hears a curse behind the door before it’s thrown open. Shouyou staggers to the person’s shins, hugging them tightly.
“What the …?”
Sniffing, he looks up at Oikawa. He has a silk eye mask pushed up to his forehead that matches his blue pyjamas.
His half-lidded eyes dart around the room, half alert, half confused. “What happened? What’s wrong?”
He wails. “Don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me. Let me sleep with you, please, Oikawa, please.”
“You woke me up at—” Oikawa peers at the clock on his nightstand “—3.30 in the morning because you had a scary dream? Are you for real? Jeez, the way you were screaming I thought you were being murdered.”
“Stay with me. Don’t leave me alone. I’m begging you.”
“Nope. You’re seventeen next month, Chibi-chan. Time to learn to be a big boy.” Oikawa scoops him up and dumps him on his bed. Before Shouyou can get back up, Oikawa is already at the door with the key in his hand. “Sweet dreams!”
He locks it, leaving Shouyou to sit there pouting.
Sugawara would never do that to him.
Since Oikawa is an asshole (not new information, but still disappointing), he has no choice but to try and get back to sleep. And he does, for a little while. Until he dreams he’s in an alley with a pile of bodies, each with the same vacant look that the corpse he found had all those years ago. They’re not just any bodies, either. They’re his pack. Each one horrifically mutilated.
He jerks up in bed and vomits all down his front. Something warm seeps across his pyjama shorts and he realises he’s pissed the bed.
It’s 4.45 now. And Oikawa is not amused.
“Go clean yourself up,” the alpha sighs, looking at Shouyou’s bed as if willing it to magically disappear. “I’ll take care of the mess.”
“Oi—”
“Just, go.”
They’re both in Oikawa’s bed fifteen minutes later. Oikawa produces a long, thin decorative pillow. “You see this? It goes between us. No crossing over this pillow. Got it?”
Shouyou’s eyes poke out from underneath the blanket. He nods his head slowly.
Oikawa’s gaze softens. “Good. No more nightmares. Ushijima can’t get you here, and even if he could I’d shoot him dead before he could lay a hand on you. Have a little faith in me.”
“Oikawa?” his small voice whispers once the lights are out. Oikawa shifts so he’s on his back.
“Hm?”
“Doesn’t that make you like, my guardian angel?”
Oikawa chuckles. “I guess it does, doesn’t it?”
It’s almost ten in the morning when a knock stirs them from sleep. Shouyou slept for the rest of the night without issue. Oikawa drags himself out of bed to answer the door.
“Bokuto asked me to make sure everything’s alright,” Sakusa’s voice carries across the room. Shouyou whimpers at the invading light, throwing an arm over his eyes. “Oikawa, you didn’t.”
Oikawa follows Sakusa’s gaze to Shouyou and smirks playfully. “Jealous?”
“I’ll murder you.”
“Oh don’t be like that. You really think I’d sleep with a high school kid on my first day of work? Why does everybody assume the worst of me?”
“That high school kid is sleeping in your bed. Of course I’m going to assume the worst.”
“He wet his bed last night and threw up all over himself. What was I going to do, make him sleep on the floor like a dog?”
There’s a pause. “Is he OK?”
“Now he is. Because I was generous enough to share my bed with him. Now, do you mind? I kind of got no sleep last night because apparently the high school kid I’m sleeping with has the temperament of a four-year-old bed-wetter.”
“Oika—”
“Talk to you later, Omi-kun!” Oikawa slams the door in his face and locks it so the other can’t get inside. The alpha then crawls back into bed and buries his face in his pillow.
“This isn’t over, you know,” Oikawa growls. “You and me are going to have a serious chat about this sleeping situation when I have the energy to get out of bed. This isn’t permanent. Under no circumstances am I letting you share my bed, you understand?”
Shouyou snuggles into the blankets and pretends to be fast asleep.
“I know you’re awake, Chibi-chan.”
Shouyou doesn’t answer. Oikawa huffs and turns over.
“Brat.”
Notes:
What's this? Have I FINALLY got the ball rolling on Oihina as I promised? THE NERVE
(also thank you all for the support for last chapter. love you!!!)
Chapter 24: "Dear Shouyou"
Chapter Text
“He’ll destroy you, Oikawa,” Hajime told him once, on the deck of a luxury hotel with a cigarette nestled between two fingers. Tooru stood behind him, hugging his dressing gown to his body as they watched the sun creep over the horizon, a summer’s breeze rustling his hair.
“I know what I’m doing, Iwa-chan,” he crooned, wrapping his arms around Hajime’s torso. He rested his chin on the other alpha’s shoulder. “Once the bitch and her followers are dead, we’ll be the ones at the top of the food chain. You’ll see. We’ll get to kiss Middle Tokyo goodbye and say hello to a life of filthy decadence.”
Hajime took a drag from his cigarette, smoke vanishing with the wind. “Is Middle Tokyo really so bad? There was a time where we’d’ve killed to be here. Why not just quit while we’re ahead and enjoy a stable life?”
“But why play it safe when we could have so much more?” He pecked the corner of Hajime’s jaw. “I want it, Iwa-chan. And it’s so close. It’s so close I can taste it.”
That night Tooru met with Ushijima. They dined at a restaurant in Upper Tokyo, surrounded by wealthy, beautiful people. Tooru felt like he belonged. Like he was born to be there. They weren’t old enough to be drinking alcohol yet, but the waiters served them their best wines because Ushijima made it so; and they enjoyed it over rare beef and honeyed vegetables they didn’t have to pay for, because Ushijima made it so.
After a walk through a park, Ushijima took him back to his apartment and fucked him until his toes curled and he forgot what day it was. And he fell asleep to the thought of the two of them: sitting together, as regal as roses upon their thrones, looking down upon San Tokyo as if it were an anthill beneath the sole of their shoes.
That was the sweet lie Ushijima Wakatoshi sold to him, back when he was trusting, back when he would spread his legs for anyone with a bit of power.
The Don’s blood wasn’t even cold before Ushijima cast him aside. And why wouldn’t he? He’d fulfilled his purposed. Ushijima didn’t need him anymore.
“You were right!” he sang as he stumbled through the door, swinging around a bottle of fine champagne he’d swiped from The Don’s bar. “Iwa-chan, congrats! You said he’d destroy me and here I am, well and truly de-stroyed! It’s a party and I’m the clown! Whoo!”
Hajime stood at the door to his bedroom in his boxer shorts, unamused. “Oik—”
“Go on, say it!” He shoved a finger in Hajime’s face. “Say that thing you always say to me—go on. Do it. Say: ‘I told you so, Shitty-kawa.’”
The alpha shrugged. “Nah, it’s only fun to say when you’re sober.”
“Pfftttt.” He rubbed his nose against Hajime’s scent gland, breathing him in. “’s not like you to not not not? Kick meh when I’m down.”
“Sure.”
“I thought—I dunno why. So dumb! I’m so dumb.” He leant away, blinking. “Thought he loved me. Isn’t that dumb?”
Tooru wasn’t emotionally prepared for the look of sympathy on Hajime’s face. Was he really that pathetic? Had he really sunk to the point where he was getting pity from Hajime of all people?
“Y’know what? Dun answer that.”
He’d known it was a long shot. Because of course it was a long shot. Ushijima Wakatoshi. Mr. Stick-Up-His-Ass Conservative himself with all his emphasis on conventional gender roles and traditional, good ol’ fashion alpha/omega relationships, in love with him? A fellow alpha? What a joke.
Worst of all he never intended to share his throne—didn’t matter if they were fucking or not. It was never going to happen. And Tooru should’ve known better, really, with all that talk about birthright and destiny and blah blah blah. The coup was only ever about him, and how it affected his life, and his privilege. Whenever he spoke about it, he never—not once—used plural pronouns. It was just ‘I will’ and ‘I want’ and ‘I am’. Tooru had written it off, made excuses, holding out on the hope that Ushijima was only self-centred (a trait he could appreciate). But no, turns out he was self-centred and a cold-hearted prick. Who could’ve foreseen such a combination?
Well, Hajime did, apparently.
“What should I do?” He flopped onto Hajime’s bed. He had his own, but he’s not in the right headspace to be alone right now.
It was a question that’d followed him all the way to Middle Tokyo. His spontaneous assassination attempt had left him pack-less (if you could even consider him a member of Shiratorizawa to begin with). Really, he should be counting himself lucky that he was still alive. Ushijima could’ve asked one of his packmates to kill him, and they would’ve done so without hesitation. The only reason he was breathing was because according to the new Don, killing him would been ‘a waste of a good marksman’. In other words, he was still useful to Ushijima, just not in the way he’d hoped.
Which landed him here in his best friend’s condo, drunk and sulking.
Tooru sighed. “Remember that thing we talked about—you know, years ago—before you met Ushijima?”
Tooru raised his head from the pillow, blowing a tuft of hair from his eyes. “No?”
Hajime sighed again. Oh, I’m sorry your majesty, do refrain from wasting your breath on a peasant like me. “You know—that … that endeavour … you and me …”
The fluorescence from a motorway billboard drenched Hajime in a pale light. His eyebrows were drawn, and he seemed to find something very interesting about his carpet. Realisation dawned on Tooru then. His face relaxed into a drunken grin.
“You mean starting a family together?”
Hajime scowled. “A pack. Starting a pack.”
He shrugged. “Same difference.”
The spikey-haired alpha sat on the edge of the mattress, still refusing to meet his gaze. “So … what do you say?”
Tooru stretched his limbs like a cat, groaning. “Guess we better start fishing for strays. Didn’t you say you have a couple of friends in Hell that are looking to start a pack? I’d rather we start with a few of us. Otherwise, we’ll just look like a gay couple out to adopt random children off the street.”
Hajime rolled his eyes. “Giving kids a loving home. What a crime. You really have your priorities in order.”
“See, we’ll never pass as a gay couple if you speak to me like that.”
The other boy was completely serious when he said: “I’d rather be back begging on the streets than be gay with you.”
“Oh really? Because that thing you did to me the other night couldn’t be construed as anything but gay, Iwa-chan.”
The world tipped on its axis as he hit the floor. He looked up at Hajime towering over him on the mattress with a look of utter betrayal. In one swift motion, Hajime threw his duvet over his body and turned his back to Tooru.
“Go to bed, asshole. We gotta get up early tomorrow to catch Matsukawa and Hanamaki before school starts.”
*
Tooru wakes up to find Hinata coiled into a ball under his arm. That little ‘talk’ they were supposed to have about bedroom boundaries didn’t exactly go as planned. See—he wanted Hinata to learn how to sleep by himself. You know, like a normal, functioning human being. Turns out, Hinata is neither normal nor functional. It shouldn’t surprise him. It comes with the territory of being a stray-turned-rogue.
What was meant as a one-off incident gradually became routine over the past couple of weeks. Tooru hasn’t slept in his own bed since that first night. And every morning since then he’s woken up to the omega attached to some part of his body—usually his torso or his arm. One time he found the omega wrapped upside-down around his leg. How he managed to do that sleeping he’ll never know.
What’s even worse is he kind of asked for it.
Hinata had shyly explained his night terrors to Bokuto and the rest of Fukuroudani, who were more than happy to share their beds with their new omega, but in a rare moment of guilt, Tooru had reassured them that it was no trouble.
So much preparation had gone into the bedrooms, and he was also getting paid good money to look after Hinata and—yeah honestly, he should’ve just let Hinata sleep with his packmates and accepted his full wage anyway. That would’ve been the smart thing to do.
Oh well. This is his life now.
Least he gets to stay in a room with a nice view. He grabs the cordless wand off the nightstand and flicks it lazily in the direction of the curtains. They drag themselves across the wall to allow natural light to bathe the bedroom. Hinata whines, burrowing further against Tooru’s ribs. It tickles.
“Chibi-chan, get up. You know Omi-kun runs a tight ship. If you aren’t ready before nine, he won’t let you eat until lunchtime.”
Hinata’s half-lidded eyes blink up at him, slow and soft and unbelievable cute. Okay, maybe it’s not horrible sharing a bed with Hinata. “But … it’s my birthday.”
Tooru toys with an unruly lock of orange hair. That’s right. Akaashi reminded him a few days ago. His ward is seventeen today. “Just because you don’t go to school anymore, doesn’t mean you can treat your education as an afterthought. We can celebrate once your classes are over. Now—go get ready. If you’re late it’s my ass in the frying pan.”
As Hinata disappears into the bathroom, Tooru gazes out over the city. It’s another beautiful summer’s day. The green foliage of Middle Tokyo has come out in full force, keeping the sidewalks and parks cool and shaded. Has Hajime and the others settled into their new home yet? Is it similar to their old place, or are the houses different here in the West? Do the younger ones like their new school? Is Kyoutani getting along with his classmates? Have Mattsun and Makki found jobs yet?
It feels like every new day brings a new question. One that he’ll likely never get an answer to.
They had to cut everyone out—he and Hinata. Their phones were destroyed, and he was never told his pack’s new address. It was for their own safety. He knew that. Anyone who’s half-decent at tracking would be able to find them otherwise, and Seijoh could unwittingly get dragged into the crossfire.
Maybe it’s for the best. Maybe if he could call them whenever he wanted, he’d never be able to move on and focus on his job. He just has to have faith that Seijoh is thriving without him.
Hinata nibbles on a piece of toasted milk bread slathered in smooth peanut butter as Tooru waits for his own bread to cook in the toaster. Fukuroudani household runs different to Shiratorizawa. They can afford a personal chef, but they prefer to take turns cooking meals for everybody—they have a weekly timetable stuck to the back of the pantry door. Even Sakusa and Atsumu contribute and they aren’t technically Fukuroudani. The only reason Tooru isn’t on for dinners is because he has to worry about feeding Hinata breakfast and lunch every day.
Personal bodyguard my ass.
“What’s on your schedule today, Chibi-chan?”
Hinata swings his legs over the stool, a smatter of peanut butter stuck to his bottom lip. Flipping open his diary, he whines. “Japanese history, English, math, geography and then science.”
“So similar to yesterday then,” he muses.
Pouting, Hinata pushes his diary away as if it’s committed a personal offense against him. “Sakusa won’t let me take art or music or even sport. I can’t live like this! I’m already going crazy staying in the apartment all day—but on top of that I have to learn? At least at school I got to go home after it finished!”
“It’s a bit much,” Tooru agrees, stirring his mug of coffee. “Tell you what—I’ll have a chat with Akaashi about your subjects, and we’ll see if we can get you into something that isn’t strictly academic.”
Hinata perks up, his eyes glittering. “Really? Thanks, Oikawa-san!”
They’re joined by Akaashi and Bokuto just as Tooru is about to polish off his morning coffee. The Don scoops Hinata out of his chair and gives him a big Happy Birthday hug while Akaashi makes a beeline for the jug.
“We have a surprise for you later today,” Akaashi tells Hinata, pouring a mug of coffee for himself and for Bokuto.
“You do?” Hinata’s eyes grow impossibly wide.
Bokuto ruffles his hair. “Of course we do! It’s not a good birthday without a few surprises!”
Tooru shoots Akaashi a questioning look. The beta only smiles mysteriously from behind his coffee mug. Curse him. Akaashi never reveals anything unless it’s necessary.
It’s taking time for Tooru to get used to not being in control for once. As a leader it was his business to know anything and everything going on in his household. In Fukuroudani, he’s not the one calling the shots, so doesn’t need to know everything.
And it’s driving him up the wall.
The bulk of Hinata’s study is done in the library. It’s a sizeable room, with leather Chesterfield armchairs relaxed around a stone fireplace, mahogany bookcases climbing up to the ceiling, and a desk and chairs where Sakusa and Hinata sit for most of the “school” day. Apparently the Don of the West isn’t fond of books, but he gifted this library to Akaashi for their anniversary.
While Hinata tries to study, Tooru either broods by the fireplace, or picks a book at random from Akaashi’s vast collection. He never picked the beta as a fan of romance. From his calculated demeanour, he would’ve guessed he’d be into speculative fiction.
Not that he’s complaining. It’s entertaining to read cheesy dialogue between an alpha and an omega in Victorian-era England while Hinata stresses over every single equation Sakusa throws at him in the background.
Hinata comes to annoy him during breaks. Tooru doesn’t mind. It’s a nice reprieve from the tedium. It’s not like anyone else is around to distract the boy. Fukuroudani have an empire to manage, so they’re rarely around the house during the day.
After classes, Hinata is surprised in the kitchen by visitors.
“Kenma!” He throws himself at a short boy with bleached locks. It takes Tooru half a second to realise he’s really shit at his job, because he should’ve surveyed the kitchen before Hinata entered it.
If this were a test, he would’ve failed.
But he quickly realises there’s no cause for alarm when his eyes fall on a certain man with catlike eyes. “Ah, it’s you.”
Kuroo stuffs his hands into his hoodie. “Ah, it’s me.”
The rest of the boys must be Nekoma then. Hinata seems to be acquainted with a few of them, if the way they crowd around him says anything. They must’ve met during his time at Kintsuru. Akaashi, Bokuto, and a few others from Fukuroudani are also here, chatting with the Nekoma members like old friends.
“Fallen in love with West Side sensibility yet?” Kuroo asks as Tooru leans against the wall. They’re both watching Hinata and the Nekoma pups.
“Cabin fever offsets its charm a bit, sad to say.”
“Ah well, can’t be helped,” he sighs. “But the both of you won’t be shut away forever. Once the excitement dies down, you’ll get to leave the apartment now and then.”
“Yes, and we’ll have to wear disguises and we’ll have curfews and places we aren’t allowed to go. It’ll be just peachy.”
“Don’t forget fake IDs.” Kuroo smirks, not a hint of sympathy given. “Aside from the disguise part, you’re back to being a teenager. Isn’t that what everyone dreams of once they’re an adult?”
Tooru cringes. “Not me. I never want to be a teenager ever again. It didn’t go so well the first time.”
“You made it out alive, didn’t you?”
“Only just.”
Watching Hinata’s smile closely, he can tell his expression is a little strained—his laugh a little forced. He frowns.
“I had the pleasure of meeting your pack about a week ago.”
He slides his gaze back to Kuroo, his heart stuttering. “And how are they?”
“Good, good. Bokuto sent me to make sure they were settling into the new place. It’s pretty nice—two story, balcony, three-car garage—even got a pool at the back. Few of them were swimming in it when I came over.”
Hajime probably requested a place with a balcony. Watching the sunrise while smoking a cigarette is one of his favourite pastimes. He could almost picture it in his head based off Kuroo’s description: Hajime smoking under an umbrella on the porch as Kindaichi, Kunimi, Watari and Yahaba try wrestling on each other’s shoulders in the pool. Kyoutani is probably in the shade being a grouch, and Matsukawa and Hanamaki are in the kitchen trying to figure out how to make homemade lemonade.
A smile touches the corners of his lips. “Did they seem happy?”
Kuroo mirrors him. “Yeah, they did.”
Konoha pulls out a cake from the fridge and they sing ‘Happy Birthday’ to Hinata as the boy bounces excitedly on the balls of his feet. When the cake’s cut and eaten, it’s time for presents, the first of which isn’t really a present, but rather a bundle of cards.
“They’re from Karasuno,” Kenma explains to Hinata.
Hinata looks down at the bundle with reverence in his eyes. Tooru can already see the waterworks coming and goes to fetch a box of tissues, only to find Akaashi has beaten him to the punch, the sly fucker.
“How?” is the only word Hinata can muster in that moment.
“It was actually a member of Karasuno who organised it,” Kuroo says, his lip curling. “Surprisingly thoughtful for someone with a such a nasty tongue.”
“He approached us during lunchtime and asked us to give it to you for your birthday,” a boy with a blonde mohawk explains. “It was too risky to buy presents since all their purchases are monitored, but the cards were easy enough to smuggle.”
Hinata frowns. “A nasty tongue … you—you don’t mean—”
Kuroo hums. “One Tsukishima Kei.”
He gapes. “I don’t believe you.”
“Who would’ve known Four Eyes had a soft spot for lil’ Chibi-chan, ey?”
“Read them aloud, Shouyou!” Bokuto encourages, but Tooru doesn’t know if that’s a good idea.
Akaashi doesn’t seem to think so either because he shoots his partner a look.
Tugging the bow keeping them together, Hinata picks the first letter from the pile. Like all the others, it’s been handwritten and drawn on a piece of plain white paper. On the front are pictures that seem to have been drawn by two different people: there’s some cutely drawn crows—one with similar orange hair to Hinata’s—alongside a crudely drawn dragon breathing fire across half the front page.
He opens it and begins reading: “‘Dear Shouyou—’” and that’s as far as he gets before choking.
“You don’t have to read them now,” Akaashi reassures quickly, placing his hands on the omega’s shoulders. “Why not just open your presents, and you can read the letters later when you’re alone?”
Hinata looks conflicted, so Tooru makes the decision for him. He snatches the cards away from Hinata’s hands. “I’ll put these by your nightstand, yeah?”
The boy nods mutely.
When he returns, Hinata is back to normal. He’s oohing and ahhing over the presents from Nekoma and Fukuroudani. Kenma had gotten him a brand-new game console that hasn’t even hit shelves yet; Lev and Inuoka got him expensive lotions; and Kuroo, Yaku and Yamamoto got him a designer backpack with cute little charms attached to the front pocket zipper. Fukuroudani got him a camera and a photo album with ‘Let’s Make Memories!’ bedazzled on the front, and Akaashi and Bokuto got him his own laptop. Even Sakusa and Atsumu got him a present: a wallet with little foxes hopping over clouds.
“I’m guessing you didn’t bother with a gift?” Kuroo crosses his arms over his chest, eyeing him judgementally.
Hinata laughs. “That’s OK. Oikawa-san doesn’t need to give me a present. He works hard protecting me every day!”
“Hey! I’m not that much of a shitty person!”
The scepticism in their eyes could put Hajime to shame.
Huffing, he pulls out his present from behind him and shoves it into Hinata’s arms. The box he kept it in was nothing to ride home about. Just a small cardboard cube wrapped in aqua wrapping paper. Bit pathetically really. The pink bow he’d slapped on top as an afterthought now felt like a pointless gesture. It wouldn’t have mattered how he presented his gift, it still paled in comparison to the rest Hinata had received.
“Do you know the lengths I went to for your present? If my gift doesn’t top the rest I’ll be asking for a raise!” He crosses his arms over his chest defensively. But he only incriminates himself further. Like an emotionally distant husband trying to convince his wife that he hadn’t forgotten their anniversary.
Hinata plucks the bow and sets it carefully aside. Watching him pick attentively at the poorly constructed folds of his half-baked creation only serves to pull him further into a state of panic. There are many things about Tooru that are worthy of care. His gift-wrapped skills is not one of them.
Everyone else seems just as eager to see what Tooru got Hinata.
Understandably. From their perspective the both of them have only known each other for a little over a month. Privately, however sparse their encounters were, they both knew Tooru was there from the beginning, from the days when Hinata was just a stray Karasuno took off the streets out of pity.
The wrapping is gone and Hinata removes the lid of the box. The boy only glances at what’s inside before he starts, his eyes flashing up to meet Tooru’s. They stare at each other, one speechless and the other understanding.
“Well? Don’t leave us in suspense! What’d the pretty boy get ya?” The Nekoma rogue with the mohawk hollers.
Snapping out of it, Hinata pulls the rabbit plushie from the box.
“A plushie?” Kuroo drawls, towering over Hinata to get a better look. “That’s it?”
“That’s a bit stingy,” Atsumu comments offhandedly, and others in the room echo similar sentiments.
He swallows. It would only be too easy for him to clap back at the comments. He could’ve bemoaned the sorry state of his bank account. The big payday’s at the end of June. Up until recently he’s been scrounging for pennies in Lower Tokyo, so yeah—he’s not exactly bathing in jewels like everybody else. He could’ve asked for a little of his wage in advance to buy a nice present. But this isn’t about how much money was sunk into his gift. What mattered was what it meant to Hinata.
The omega turned the rabbit over in his hands. He had yet to say a word. He stroked its fur. He grazed his hands across its little dungarees and the mini carrots stitched above the front breast pocket. Then he turned it over to check the tag.
HS. Happy.
“Shouyou …” Kenma said slowly, gently. Aware of the sudden fragility in Hinata’s body language.
It brings the ginger back to reality. He sniffs and hugs Happy close to his chest, his eyes glassy.
“I thought I’d lost him forever,” Hinata confesses, giving a disbelieving sob. “H-How did you find him.
“My pack were asked to clean out your old home in preparation for new tenants. It was the only thing I found that had your name on it—aside from school books.”
Hinata looks up at him, his jaw tensing as if to stop his lip from trembling. The corners of his mouth twitch into a grateful yet devastated smile. It does things to Tooru’s heart that he’d never admit to. Hinata’s mouth opens as if to say something, but his words are snuffled out by a hiccup. A room full of hardened men soften, and the look Tooru and Hinata share gets lost in the cooing and coddling of the other rogues.
The gathering breaks up after dinner. Akaashi, Bokuto, Kuroo and some of the older members of Nekoma and Fukuroudani retreat to the lounge to drink wine and discuss important matters, while the younger members of Nekoma say their farewells to Hinata.
“We’re only a few floors down,” Kenma tells him as he’s about to step outside. “You have my number now, so if you want to see me, just text me and I’ll come.”
Hinata nods eagerly, his body leaning forward as if he’s restraining himself from tackling the other boy in a hug. “Thank you for coming! I really, really appreciate it!”
“Of course.”
When the door closes, Hinata leans against it.
“Hey, Shouyou. What say we try out this new baby, ey? I’ll hook it up to the TV in the other room,” Atsumu says as he slaps a hand on the console Kenma gave him.
Hinata forces a smile. “I’d love to but—I think I’m just gonna go to bed.”
Atsumu glances at the clock above the breadbox. “But it’s only eight-thirty?”
“Sorry. We can play tomorrow. I promise.”
Atsumu and Sakusa share a look. Tooru hurries after Hinata as he heads for the bedrooms. He doesn’t ask what’s wrong.
Even though it’s early, Tooru gets ready for bed alongside the omega. It’s become so intrinsic to their routine by now that it almost feels rude not to. They take their showers, they brush their teeth and get into their pyjamas, and then they settle up in Hinata’s bed.
“Why did you keep Happy?” Hinata asks as he reaches for his letters. “Out of all the things in that apartment …”
Tooru pretends to find interest in his perfectly manicured nails. “Ushijima graciously gave us permission to keep whatever we pleased. The rest went straight to the rubbish tip.”
Hinata frowns. “You know that’s not what I meant. Why my plushie? It didn’t hold any meaning to you.”
A sigh escapes him. Looks like there’s no skirting around the issue. “I had a feeling we would see each other again. I couldn’t tell you why or how. I obtained the toy before I even knew what Ushiwaka was planning. I just—” he looked away, aware of the sudden flush assaulting his cheeks “—I had a feeling it meant something. I’d planned to give it to you at the Gathering. The Dons host a lunch after the meeting where rogues from different territories can mingle without killing each other. I was going to give it to you then, but—well, after the drama you caused I was hardly given the chance.”
“So you were going to give it to me on my birthday instead?”
Tooru shook his head. “To be frank, I forgot I had it until Bokuto mentioned your birthday last week.”
The omega huffs, pretending to be annoyed, but he can’t keep the gentle smile from gracing his little face. “Thank you,” he says, thumbing at one of the rabbit’s ears. “Getting Happy back means more than you know.”
“Evidently not. I kept that thing for months. Only someone as childish as you could ever find value in it.” Tooru says like he intended to sound as harsh as possible, like a reprimand. But Hinata only smiles wider. Annoyed, Tooru shoves the boy. “Enough about the stupid rabbit. Aren’t you going to read your letters?”
Hinata blinks, as though he’d completely forgotten the piles of letters in his lap. He picks the one on top of the pile. The very one he struggled to read in front of the other rogues.
“‘Dear Shouyou—’” but yet again, that’s as far as Hinata gets before tears are in his eyes and his fingers are trembling.
Sighing, Tooru wraps his arms around the omega and pulls him so that he’s sitting between his legs. He plucks the letter from Hinata’s quivering fingertips and holds the card so that the ginger can still read along if he wishes. “How about I read them aloud for you?”
Hinata’s lip tightens as he nods. A tear slips down the side of his face but he’s quick to catch it before it reaches his jawline.
Tooru realises Hinata hasn’t cried since his first night here. Every other day he’s been nothing but smiles and giggles, fitting so effortlessly into the Fukuroudani household as if he were here from the very beginning. It made Tooru wonder how much the boy must be hiding, how terribly he must be hurting.
Placing his chin on Hinata’s shoulder, he reads:
“‘Dear Shouyou …’”
As he goes through each letter with care, Hinata gasps, Hinata laughs, and Hinata cries. It’s childish, but in a lovely sort of way, like he’s being read a bedtime story. A very sad bedtime story.
There’s nothing in the letters that addresses anything remotely sad. In fact, most skirt around the obvious and pretend Hinata is on an extended vacation somewhere. They retell mundane things—mostly about their daily lives, what happened at school, what they did on the weekend, what new food they tried and enjoyed. While the contents mean nothing to Tooru, they mean everything to Hinata.
“‘Dear—’” Tooru pauses when he recognises the shitty handwriting. Some things never change.
Hinata looks up at him. “Oikawa-san?”
He clears his throat.
“‘Dear Hinata,
I saw a classmate eat a mandarin today. It reminded me of you.
You better not be slacking off just ‘cuz you don’t go to school anymore.
You’re not special.
- Kageyama
P.S. Happy Birthday.’”
That was by far the worst birthday card Tooru had ever read. The ‘Happy Birthday’ wasn’t even in the main message, it’s just tacked on at the end like an afterthought! But Hinata’s grinning like Kageyama wrote him a sonnet that could make angels weep. He heard from Sakusa that the idiot hadn’t even come to see Hinata off at the gate. Had his six months with Seijoh really emotionally stunted him to such a degree that he couldn’t even go say goodbye to his own packmate?
“I think I was just made stupider by reading that,” Tooru says.
Hinata pouts, snatching the card from him. “You’re so mean to him.”
“It’s what he deserves.”
“Oikawa-san?”
“Hm?”
Wiggling his socked feet, Hinata asks, “Why did you abandon Kageyama?”
There’s a pause. Hinata’s stare burns into the underside of Tooru’s jar as he busies himself shuffling the letters.
“That’s a story for another time,” he answers eventually. He picks up the last letter, ignoring Hinata’s pout. To distract the ginger from the topic, he says: “Oh look—this one must be from Kou-chan.”
Hinata is exhausted once all the letters have been read aloud. All those emotions finally catching up to him. As Tooru collects them, Hinata grabs his wrist. “We have to put them somewhere safe—somewhere where they won’t get damaged or lost.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure the letters are kept somewhere safe.” Hinata relaxes. Tooru stores them away in a drawer for the time being.
They don’t usually fall asleep cuddling. Hinata wraps himself around him at some point during the night and that’s how it’s been since the start of the month. But this time, Tooru makes an exception. It’s just the alpha in him, he reasons, as he pulls Hinata into his arms and allows the smaller to throw an arm and a leg over his body (Happy squashed between them). It’s only natural for him to want to comfort a sad omega.
“Oikawa-san?” Hinata whispers against his collarbone.
“Mm?”
“Can I scent you?”
He stiffens, the fingers lightly resting on the omega’s shoulder stilling. Then he swallows and shrugs. “If that’s what you want.”
The omega worms his way further up his form until his nose is well and truly buried in Tooru’s neck. Tooru lies very still. This would happen eventually; he just didn’t think it would happen so soon. Scenting is meant as a gesture of ultimate trust, and he doesn’t feel like he’s earned this moment at all. But he holds Hinata anyway, letting him soak in the scent of brine and rain. As a curtesy, he scents the omega back, drowning in chocolate baked sweetness that he sees as the epitome of home.
And when it’s over, Hinata’s breaths even out against his shoulder, more relaxed than he’s been all month, and Tooru thinks that maybe being a bodyguard isn’t so bad.
*
It’s late in the evening and Keiji knows he shouldn’t bother them. Yes, Hinata is still awake, but he’s playing video games and having fun and Keiji doesn’t want to be the person to interrupt his free time. It’s so rare to hear the omega laugh so freely, so unapologetically, like he doesn’t have a care in the world. Hinata is a naturally smiley person, but since his departure from Karasuno the ginger’s projected happiness is tinged with an air of sadness. Hinata came up only a handful of times in conversations he’d had with Daichi and Sugawara in the past, but they always described him as sunshine incarnate.
He imagines a lot has changed about him since then.
The description still rings true in many respects. Hinata is the happiest, most optimistic person he’s ever met, but he can see that the boy’s shine dims behind a cloak of clouds. They’re trying their best to lift him back up. As soon as Hinata told them about his night terrors, he called a therapist to come visit him at least once a week.
He wants Hinata to have some normalcy. He wants Hinata to laugh without sadness in his eyes. It’s the least they can do for a member of their pack. But packs don’t function around a singular unit. It’s a team effort, a machine that functions only if all the cogs are turning at once. If one gets jammed, the machine breaks down. Now that Hinata is part of that machine, he’ll have to give a little.
That’s what he tells himself anyway, as he raps his knuckles against the open door. Hinata and Atsumu look up from the TV, the excitement shifting to welcoming smiles.
Atsumu puts down his controller and ruffles Hinata’s hair. “Looks like the fun’s over, Shouyou. We’ll play again tomorrow.”
Hinata looks between the men in confusion. “What’s up? Is it bedtime already?”
The bodyguard squeezes past him, and Akaashi says, “No, but I do need you for something—if that’s OK.”
Nodding, Hinata turns off the console. “Yes, of course—what is it?”
“Bokuto needs help.”
“He does?” The omega frowns. “Is he OK?”
“Sometimes, when Bokuto’s had a long and difficult day, he tends to get a little down on himself. He might seem confident majority of the time, but he can also be pretty insecure,” Akaashi explains as he leads Hinata down the hall towards the bar.
Hinata looks up at him with his big brown eyes. “Really? But why would Bokuto be insecure? He’s like—the coolest person ever!”
He snorts. “You should tell him that.”
“I will!”
“Good.”
“But why are you telling me this?”
They turn a corner, nearing the door to the bar/lounge area. “I try my best—when he gets this way. We’ve been together forever, so I’ve learnt a thing or two about how to navigate around this weird funk, but I suspect there’s a much easier solution to the problem that I haven’t tried yet.”
Hinata doesn’t catch on as he’d hoped. “And what’s that?”
“Scent bonding.”
They stop outside the door, and he turns back to Hinata, trying to convey as much meaning as possible with one look. This time it clicks, because the boy’s mouth drops into a perfectly shaped ‘o’. “You think my omega pheromones might help Bokuto?”
His shoulders relax and he nods. “I’m sorry for not saying it plainly. It’s not easy to admit, but my pheromones don’t have much influence when Bokuto gets this way. Beta pheromones are better suited to quell anger, not sadness—and Bokuto never gets angry. I’ve done extensive reading on the chemistry of gender pheromones, so I’m confident you’ll have a stronger effect of him.”
“And you’ve never tested this with an omega before?”
He rests his hand on the door handle, staring off in contemplation. “Fukuroudani is made up of betas and alphas, and I’ve never been close enough to an omega to feel comfortable asking. To ask an acquaintance to scent bond with Bokuto … it would be wildly inappropriate. Perhaps I should’ve been more proactive in finding an omega sooner … Maybe then I could’ve saved Bokuto a lot of grief …”
“You shouldn’t be so hard on yourself, Akaashi-san.” Hinata smiles sweetly. “If you’re willing to do this for Bokuto, that means you must really, really care about him, right? At the end of the day, you can only do your best.”
Something inside Keiji aches. The world’s too cruel to have made Hinata a stray.
“Hinata …” He glances at the boy. “Thank you.”
Bokuto has his back facing them as he sits at the bar. Cubes of ice crackle in a shallow pool of bourbon that he nurses in his hand, shoulders hunched as if he’s holding up the weight of the whole city. In many respects, he is holding up the weight of the city.
Words die on Keiji’s lips as Hinata gravitates to Bokuto’s side, placing a gentle hand on the alpha’s arm. The man tenses for a moment, as if he hadn’t heard them enter, then softens when he sees it’s only Hinata.
He turns in his stool, swallowing down his depression. “Hey kid, what’s up? Did you kick Tsum-Tsum’s butt at Star Racer?”
Hinata throws his arms around Bokuto’s neck. The Don only has the sense to catch him before the omega is nuzzling against his scent gland. He throws his hands up as if a staring down the barrel of a gun, his owlish eyes flying to Keiji.
“Babe—I swear I don’t know what the hell he’s—”
“Relax.” He leans against the back of the sofa. “I asked him to do this. Scent bonding with an omega will make you feel better.”
“Are …” He looks between Hinata and Keiji as if he’s just gotten permission to commit a crime. “You really don’t have to do this—either of you. I’ll get over it eventually.”
“Bokuto,” Hinata leans away pouting, “I’m part of your pack now, aren’t I?”
“Of course! Of course you are!” Bokuto says in a panic.
“Then why don’t you wanna scent me?”
Bokuto gapes. Keiji crosses his arms over his chest with a quirked eyebrow.
“I just—I’ve never scented an omega before!”
Hinata scrunches his nose in disbelief. “Ever?”
He shakes his head.
“There’s a first time for everything, isn’t there?” Keiji says smoothly. “Scent him, Bokuto, or you’ll hurt Hinata’s feelings.”
“R-Right!”
Picking up Hinata, he carries the ginger over to the couch and gets comfortable against the cushions. Hinata giggles and leans forward to scent Bokuto as if it’s the easiest thing to do. It’s absurd, Keiji muses, that he thought he’d feel jealous. Bokuto handles Hinata with the care of a doting big brother, and Hinata has only the purest admiration for The Don. Purrs fill the room as Bokuto buries his face in Hinata’s neck, he can already see the stress melt away from his shoulders. Bokuto has always been a loud purrer.
The joy is magnetic. Keiji is drawn to the couch, drawn to the sweetness of the alpha and omega. He reaches out to feather his fingers through Bokuto’s locks, and the man looks up with a grin.
“You were right, Keiji. I really needed that!”
“Happy to help,” Hinata chimes. Bokuto digs his fingers into the omega’s ribs and he squeals.
“You should scent him too,” Bokuto says. “The whole pack should scent him—Oikawa already has.”
Keiji’s eyebrow twitches. “Oh he has, has he?”
Hinata nods innocuously. “I asked him to because I was feeling sad.”
“That’s interesting.” He never pegged Oikawa as a bleeding heart. If he scented Hinata he probably saw some benefit to it.
Opening his arms, he invites the omega for a scent bonding session. Hinata happily crawls into his lap, his nose dragging across his jawline and making him shiver. Omega pheromones are no joke. They hit like waves, exacerbated by strong emotion. He takes the exhilarating dizziness as a sign that Hinata is extremely happy.
“I’ve been thinking about what Oikawa said,” he says as Hinata scents him, “about finding an extra-curricular activity for you. Considering your past with karate, how about I take you down to the shooting range and I can teach you how to handle a gun?”
Hinata pulls back, eyebrows pinched. “I can’t.”
He blinks. “You can’t? Do guns scare you?”
“No, it’s just—” Hinata looks up as if trying to find the right words written on the ceiling “—it goes against everything Sawamura and Sugawara stood for. I couldn’t—it’d be like a betrayal, almost, you know? Also it’d be hypocritical of me. I made Kageyama promise me he’d never kill anyone.”
“What if killing is the only option?” Bokuto cocks his head to the side. “What will you do then?”
“Killing is never the only option.” Hinata shakes his head. “Never.”
Akaashi drums his fingers against the leather of the couch. “Hm. Leave it with me. I’m sure I can find something else that’s better suited to your style.”
*
A week later, Keiji introduces Hinata to a man named Santana Heitor.
“Nice to meet you! I’ll be your Brazilian jiu jitsu teacher!” The man says in broken Japanese and he shakes Hinata’s hand. “Everything you’ll learn from me will be strictly non-lethal—classic disarm and submission!”
The unbridled excitement that makes its way onto Hinata’s face lets Keiji know that he’s made the right call.
Chapter 25: One Wild Day
Notes:
I was nervous about posting this chapter because it's such a turn from what's happened so far, but then I was like wait. When have I NOT taken risks with the story??
Y'all enjoy~
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
4 Years Later
“… a recent update to what is being called the ‘Mid-City Massacre’. Three more confirmed deaths following the incident in Ishifunsen on Friday now puts the death toll at 15 people, ten of which were rogues, five innocent bystanders … Police have made a statement suspecting it as gang-related, and a by-product of the rising tensions between San Tokyo’s Eastern and Southern territories …
“In other news, the unidentified shadowed vigilante known as ‘The Nightcrawler’ led police to uncovering eleven crates of cocaine hidden inside high school economics books on Sunday night …”
“These days everyone and their mothers have their noses glued to the TV.” The balding politician eases onto the bar stool beside him, adjusting himself. Metal groans beneath his weight. He procures a handkerchief from his pocket and pats the sweat from his brow. The bar is airconditioned. “You’re Kawajiri Haru, right? I knew you were pretty from how you sounded over the phone. You’re a white pin too—just my luck.”
The young man smiles, long lashes fluttering beneath gentle blond bangs. “Thank you for agreeing to meet with me, Mr Setoguchi. It was very brave of you, considering how hectic things have been lately.”
“Ah, it’s no trouble, no trouble. My faith in Don Ushijima has been waning for a while. By the time you have your article published, I’ll be long gone. The Rising Sun, right? A popular publication—lots of people read it. Don’t know why someone like you would bother with a journalist’s salary though.” Mr Setoguchi leers at him from behind the glare of his glasses, as if he’s trying to decipher if he’s seen Haru somewhere before.
Haru hums, pulling out a phone and a tablet. “Shall I get us a booth? I’m sure you’d prefer we have our interview somewhere …” he looks up coyly from beneath his lashes “… more private.”
Mr Setoguchi’s dumpling face morphs into a predatory grin. “I’ll order my drink and meet you there.”
The Bambino Casino is densely populated for late afternoon on a Sunday. Groups of men and women hunch over tables of blackjack, the casual players dress lavishly and the regulars are swimming in cheap tracksuits. First dates socialise in the booths that hug the casino’s periphery. Solitary drinkers sit at the bar watching the news with grim trepidation.
Haru slides into a private booth, placing his phone on the table and hitting record. He ignores the pudgy arm draped over his shoulders. He maintains a professional tone as he jumps straight into the interview. “You’ve been in Wakatoshi’s pocket for some time, is that correct?”
The man snorts. “Calling him by his given name—that’s very bold of you! It’s true, I’ve been associated with the young Don since he first came to power. You don’t want to be on the bad side of someone who’d kill their own mother in cold blood!” He lets out a whooping laugh and takes a swig of his beer. “I work in infrastructure on the council board. We make executive decisions on how to improve the livelihoods of San Tokyo citizens—you know, which roads should be built and maintained, what buildings would benefit which district and all that. I came on to Don Ushijima’s radar around the time we were considering building another homeless shelter in Lower Tokyo’s southside.”
“And how did he react to that?”
“Not well! He doesn’t like it when we try to make improvements to Lower Tokyo. He prefers to keep it crappy—guess ‘cuz no stray would ever think to become a rogue if their lives were marginally better.”
Haru hums, his fingers tapping away at the keyboard on his tablet. “How many other people are on Don Ushijima’s dime?”
His fingers massage Haru’s tiny shoulder, his breaths heaving and rugged. “I don’t want to give any names—they’re my colleagues after all. If this got out, their heads would be on the chopping block. But I’ll say this: for every department on the council, at least one member is associated with Don Ushijima. Others are loyal to Don Bokuto or Don Tanaka, but they’re the lucky ones. Least they don’t send their people ‘round to intimidate you.”
“Has that happened a few times?”
He nods. “Once when I ignored a request for a charity school to be demolished, and another time when I didn’t get paperwork filed in on time and caused delays to redirect the waterways. Scary stuff.”
“And is it true you approved contracts that will cut off electricity to places in East Side?”
“I …” Mr Setoguchi frowns. “How d’you know about that?”
Haru blinks up at him innocently. “A few of my sources have told me this. I’d appreciate it if you could confirm that this is in fact the case.”
Mr Setoguchi scrutinizes the younger man. “Your eyes … have we met before?”
“I sometimes give reports on the morning news.” Haru shrugs, turning back to his tablet. “Channel 10?”
“Maybe …”
“So back to my question—did you, or did you not, approve contracts that will cut off electricity to neighbourhoods in Middle Tokyo’s East Side?”
Shifting uncomfortably, Mr Setoguchi grunts, “I’d rather not say.”
“What do you set out to achieve? Is it to help Don Ushijima in the recent gang wars?”
“No comment—if you’ll excuse me. I need to go to the bathroom.”
Haru watches the politician lumber to the back of the bar. He catches sight of a phone being pulled from his blazar pocket just as he rounds the corner. Huffing, he leans back against the leather cushions.
“Do you think I came off too strong?”
“Just a bit,” the voice snickers in his ear.
Sighing, he stirs the stick in his mocktail and goes over some of the questions he still wants to ask in his head.
“He’s calling someone.”
“I figured.”
“He’s calling Ushijima.”
His hand stills. “Is my cover blown?”
There’s silence on the other end as he listens, then says, “Yes. He knows—well, suspects—you’re Hinata Shouyou.”
“Dammit!”
“I told you so. You can’t just slap on a half-decent wig and paint a beauty mark on your cheek and call yourself by a different name. Your face is too recognisable.”
“You’re right,” he nods his head, “next time I’ll wear colour contacts.”
“Not really a drastic improvement but OK.”
Shouyou puts the glass to his lips, about to take a sip, when the voice in his ear crackles back on. “Shou-chan, they’re coming.”
He bolts up. “Who’s coming?”
“Ushijima’s men!”
His heart leaps into his throat. “What do I do?”
“We have time. Just play it cool. See if you can get out of there without calling attention to yourself.”
“OK, I’ll just—” he stands up, only to spot Mr Setoguchi making his way back to the booth, a shamelessly fake smile rounding out his flushed cheeks.
“Sorry for the disruption.” He slides back into the booth and throws a firm arm over Shouyou’s shoulder, trapping him. “Now, where were we? You wanted to ask me about electricity being cut off in the East Side? The answer is yes, I did approve those contracts. I wasn’t given a choice. Don Ushijima said he’d kill me and my family if I didn’t do as I was told.”
“That’s interesting and all, but something actually just came up and I’ve gotta go. Maybe we can reschedule …?” Shouyou tries to stand up, but Mr Setoguchi yanks him back down, crushing his smaller body against him.
“Where’s the rush? Besides, you promised something in exchange for this interview, remember? You better not be getting cold feet. I don’t like it when omegas lie to me.”
Shouyou grabs the soft fat under Mr Setoguchi’s arm and gives it a harsh twist. The shock has the man’s knees slamming the underside of the table with a howl, but he recovers quickly enough to pull out a pocket knife from his jacket and press it against Shouyou’s inner thigh. The omega releases the skin.
Mr Setoguchi’s snarl turns into a hideous grin. “You think I don’t know about you, Hinata Shouyou? You’re quite the celebrity. The omega who took Don Ushijima’s right eye and lived to tell the tale. I also know you don’t carry a gun. Big mistake. It would’ve come in handy now, wouldn’t it?”
“He doesn’t carry a gun, but I do,” comes a voice to Mr Setoguchi’s right. The man turns, coming face to face with the barrel of a gun.
The politician chokes. “O-O-O-Oikawa Tooru!”
Tooru smirks. “The very same.”
Slowly raising his hands, Mr Setoguchi begs, “I-I’ll drop the knife. I’ll let Hinata go. Please, I have a family.”
“You have a wife you’ll happily cheat on and children who ignore your calls, the word ‘family’ is subjective in your case. And besides,” his glare drags from Mr Setoguchi to Shouyou, “you threatened my mate. You’ve earned a one-way ticket to an early grave, you ugly pig!”
Shouyou rolls his eyes and yanks off his blonde wig, revealing a head of unruly apricot curls. “Don’t kill for killing’s sake, Tooru. It’s only sexy when they deserve it.”
“I think that he deserves it.”
“No, but he deserves this.” Shouyou grabs the hand holding the knife and snaps it back at an awkward angle, causing the man to scream. As his head reels back, he shoves Mr Setoguchi’s face into the table, his nose giving a sickening crack.
“Shou-chan.” Tooru notices that some of the patrons of the bar have started to vacate the area. “We’ve gotta go before Ushiwaka’s dogs show up.”
“They haven’t caught us yet.” Shouyou sidles out of the booth, lacing his fingers with Tooru’s. “What d’you say we have a quickie in the bathroom before we vanish? Bet we could squeeze it in if we hurry.”
“Or—or, and hear me out—how about we leave now and fuck back at the apartment where we won’t run the risk of getting shot?”
Shouyou rolls his eyes. “They won’t shoot me.”
“No, but they’ll shoot me!” Tooru whines, weaving the omega around tables and chairs on his way towards the exit. “I’m wanted dead or alive, remember? Shiratorizawa aren’t going to give a shit if I get shot or not!”
“Ah, true. Keep forgetting about that.” Shouyou giggles, scratching the back of his head.
They’re out in the casino area when they spot a group of men and women in black suits entering the lobby, their guns drawn.
Tooru and Shouyou duck behind a blackjack table. “Ah fuck.”
“Maybe they didn’t see us?” Shouyou whispers.
“Hinata Shouyou, Oikawa Tooru, we know you’re in here!” someone calls over the constant hum of conversation in the casino. The voices go quiet. Heads turn, and almost everyone gets up and starts hurrying towards the emergency exits.
“If we get up and blend in with the regular citizens, maybe we can slip away,” Tooru says, his eyes darting around. They crawl behind a pillar and then calmly walk towards the back exit.
“There they are!” a man yells.
“Why did you take off your wig!” Tooru squeals as he hurls them through the exit. A bullet misses them and hits the green exit sign above their heads.
They bolt down the staircase two at a time, their hands tightly gripping each other. Panic has broken out from the people around them and they’re pushing and shoving their way to the upper and lower floors. One poor woman gets trampled on and Shouyou stops to help her back up. She shoves him against the wall and runs for her life.
“Bitch!” Tooru snaps after her. He yanks Shouyou through one of the doors leading into the lobby of a different floor. “The elevators aren’t too far from here. If we can get to them, we should be able to make it to West Side without trouble.”
They run across the tiles, a blanket of steam lingering in the air. A bunch of half-naked people mill around in towels and sandals. It must be the lobby to an onsen. The commotion coming from the stairwell along with the stream of panicked citizens running into the lobby causes enough stir to have people skirting out of their way.
Outside, nothing is out of the ordinary. At least, that is until there’s an announcement over the loudspeakers: “Attention Kokoro Tower Customers, Attention Kokoro Tower Customers, for your safety and the safety of others, please evacuate levels 132 to 142 until further notice. Please stay clear of levels 134, 135 and 136. I repeat, please stay clear of levels 134, 135 and 136.”
“But—but this is level 134!” a girl cries to her mother.
Tooru groans. “Quick, before the elevators get overcrowded!”
A sudden crash trembles the entire level. With so much commotion going on its hard to tell where exactly it comes from. Plumes of dust billow from falling chunks of debris. Shouyou pulls Tooru behind a pillar. People scream and run from the cloud of dust that consumes the foyer. As the dust settles, a massive hole reveals itself, blown through the wall of one of the stores. Shouyou spies two figures emerging from the clouds. His blood runs cold.
“What do you see?” Tooru whispers, squeezing his hand.
“I see … I see …”
They step into view, two men dressed impeccably in coloured suits. One has a rifle resting on his shoulder, and the other a black briefcase.
“What?” Tooru hisses.
His legs go weak. “It’s them. It’s Shiratorizawa.”
If he’d only caught a glance, Shouyou may have never recognised Tendou Satori. The red hair no longer shot up like an erupting volcano, but flops over the side of his face in bedhead fashion. A piercing pinches the end of his right eyebrow and adds to the look of manic danger in his bloodred eyes. The Shirabu Kenjirou standing next to him is taller than Shouyou remembers, with a windswept fringe that does more favours for the omega than his weird choppy bangs ever did when he was a teen. He’d almost say they’re attractive, if they also didn’t look like they were on a hunting trip.
Tooru releases a whine, as if this is the biggest inconvenience of his day. “What are they doing here?”
Shouyou shakes his head. “I don’t know.”
They’d only had a handful of encounters with South Side goons, and they never once confronted a member of Shiratorizawa. Seeing them out in public, out in the open for everyone to see, is about as common as finding treasure at the bottom of the ocean. They must’ve been nearby when Mr Setoguchi raised the alarm. That’s the only explanation Shouyou can think of as to why they even bothered.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are,” Tendou croons, adjust his rifle. “Don’t you miss us, Little Red? Don’t you wanna unite with your old family?”
“Shou-chan.” He looks back at Tooru. “We’re going to have to make a run for it. If we stay here, we’ll be trapped.”
“Satori’s got a rifle,” Shouyou mutters. “If we run, he’ll shoot us.”
Tooru looks ahead, assessing the space between them and the elevators. “If we can somehow get to the front of the crowd over there, we may get away before Tendou and Shirabu can reach us. They won’t take aim if there’s a chance they’ll hit a citizen. Our timing has to be perfect—we have to reach the elevators just as they’re closing.”
Deep down he knows they don’t have much of a choice. It’s either that or they stay hidden behind the pillar on the off chance they aren’t spotted—and if they are, they’re as good as doomed.
After some thought, Shouyou nods his head. “Let’s do it.”
“On my count.” Tooru raises three fingers.
“What about you, Pretty Boy?” Tendou continues goading the empty space. “Waka-chan has been awfully lonely without you.”
“One.”
“He talks about you all the time.”
“Two.”
“Says he regrets everything that happened between the two of you.”
“Three!”
Shouyou takes off, dragging Tooru with him. It takes a moment for the alpha to match Shouyou’s breakneck speed.
“Ah-ha! There you are, you little fuckers!”
Neither dare to look behind them, dare to see if Tendou is readying his rifle. They dive behind a large potted plant just as they hear the gun go off. But when the bullet grazes the clay pot it doesn’t strike with the same impact as a normal bullet. Tooru looks down to see a fragment of what was shot and picks it up, wincing when he realises it’s still hot.
“He’s not firing bullets,” Tooru says, showing the fragment to Shouyou. The tips of his fingers are stained with a strange blueish liquid, and the object in his palm looks like the tip of a needle. “They’re darts.”
The colour drains from Shouyou’s face. He almost would’ve preferred normal bullets. “They’re going to try and knock us unconscious.”
The needle clinks against the tiles as Tooru tosses it away. “I don’t know if that’s better or worse.”
“It’s worse! Much, much worse!” Shouyou groans, running a hand over his face.
Tooru’s eyes land on the counter of the information booth up ahead. “We’ll try and get to there next, alright? Are you ready?”
Shouyou nods his head.
This game of hide and seek eventually gets them to the elevators. There were a few close calls. At one point a dart whizzes past Shouyou’s ear, and another grazes Tooru’s ankle. These shots were so close that Shouyou privately began to wonder if Tendou was missing on purpose just to mess with them. The moment they reach the crowd of people they worm their way into the first gaps they find, shouldering and shoving in a desperate attempt to shield themselves.
Shouyou gets through easily. Being small and lithe has its perks.
But then he hears Oikawa yelp.
“Tooru?” he tries calling, but he can’t see over the heads of the people pushing and squirming around him.
“I’m fine!” he hears his mate reply. “Just get to the elevators!”
He has no qualms using his tininess to his advantage. He ducks and squeezes his way through gaps of bodies, ignoring angry curses and the occasional kick, until he manages to wiggle his way to the front. He gets up on his tip-toes, attempting to spot Tooru in the crowd.
When the doors to the elevator next to him open, he jams his foot between the doors and ignores the people shouting at him to move out of the way. “Shut up. I’m waiting for someone.”
“We don’t care!” a man in a business suit yells. “Move your foot so we can evacuate!”
“I’m not leaving without him,” he snaps.
“For goodness sake—someone push him out of the way!” a woman cries.
Another man, who’s dressed in a shirt that pulls tightly over his bulging chest muscles, tries to shove him, but Shouyou flips him onto his back and keeps him there by the pressure of his arm, all the while keeping his foot firmly in the elevator door’s path. This deters some of the other alphas from having a go at him.
“Are you deaf? I said I wasn’t moving!” he growls.
“Shou-chan!” He perks up and sees Tooru elbowing his way to the front. “Move, peasants! I’m too pretty to wait in lines!”
Tooru holds out his hand and Shouyou snatches it, pulling the alpha into the elevator, finally allowing the doors to pull shut. They’re sandwiched together and the older man drapes over Shouyou’s smaller body, catching his breath. He only just manages to reach around the alpha to slap a button before the elevator takes them up.
“You scared me for a second there.” Shouyou laughs. “I thought they got you.”
When Tooru doesn’t answer immediately, he tries pulling away, only to have Tooru’s weight follow him. “Tooru?”
“They did … They got me …” Tooru forces out, kicking out his leg. A dart sticks out from the meat of his calf.
“Oh my god.”
“I don’t think … I can stand for much longer,” he confesses tiredly. “Adrenaline was the only thing … that carried me to you … If I didn’t find you, they would’ve …”
Wrapping his arms around Tooru, he does his best to support him upright. “It’s OK. We’re OK. You’re safe. They can’t get to you now.”
The elevator makes a few stops on their way to their floor. They get off on level 175 and Shouyou does most of the leg work as they limp their way to the western bridge. It’s an entertainment district, full of movie cinemas, arcades and theme parks. The place is swimming with people from the break of dawn to well past midnight. It’s almost never closed completely, unlike most of the other levels past a certain time.
Shouyou relaxes slightly. He counts the populated level as a blessing. It means they’re not as easy to spot.
It’s a bit of a journey from the elevators to the western bridge. The place they were initially was on the other side of Kokoro Tower. They pass through a theme park based off a popular children’s show, and through a few arcades, and out into the cinema area. A sign for Western Heights comes into view. Shouyou breathes a sigh of relief.
And just as he’s convinced himself that they’re finally safe, Tsutomu steps out from behind a cardboard cut-out of cartoon characters. Shouyou freezes.
“There was a high chance you’d elude us, so I came to the place where I knew I’d find you,” Tsutomu explains, nursing a rifle similar to the one Tendou had. His heart sinks.
The omega still has the same bowl-cut he’s had since high school, but he’s taller and thicker, built more like an athlete and less like a stereotypical omega. Which is a surprise. Out of everyone, he would’ve thought Tsutomu would go out of his way to present as omega-like as humanly possible, but by all accounts the man standing before them could masquerade as an alpha if he bothered with pheromone blockers.
With immense effort, Tooru lifts his head to glare at Tsutomu. “That … That’s the stupidest haircut … I’ve ever seen …”
Tsutomu scowls, pointing his rifle at them. “Shut up! Who cares how I look! I’m taking the two of you to Ushijima!”
“Tsutomu.” Shouyou raises his hands and gently eases Tooru to the floor. “You win. I’ll come with you.”
“I said both of you,” he bites out.
“Just me,” Shouyou says. “You and I both know Wakatoshi doesn’t give a damn about Tooru. He just wants me. So how about we just leave Tooru behind and I’ll go with you willingly, alright?”
The scar on his face wrinkles and he snarls. “Do you take me for an idiot? If I bring both of you to Ushijima, I’ll get double the reward. Pick him back up.”
Shouyou doesn’t budge. “I’m not going to do that, Tsutomu.”
“Stop calling me that! You lost the right to say my name the day you attacked Ushijima!”
“Don’t be a hero,” Tooru whines, tugging at Shouyou’s pants. “If you go, I go.”
“No,” Shouyou asserts. “You stay here.”
Tsutomu snaps the safety off the rifle. “Pick him up, or I’ll put a dart in you and drag you both by the ankles back to Ushijima.”
“Tsutomu—”
“I told you to stop—”
“Please, if you have any affection left for me, leave Tooru alone!”
They stare at each other, and for one brief moment, Shouyou thinks that he might’ve gotten through to the other omega. But then the ugliness takes over Tsutomu’s face, and he shoots a dart straight into Shouyou’s shoulder. He cries. The dark, bluish liquid bleeds from the tip when he yanks it out of his skin.
Even Tsutomu is surprised at himself. Shouyou’s eyebrows draw together. “That hurt.”
The tranquilizer is so strong the effects kick in a moment later, and he wobbles to his knees. How the hell was Tooru able to fight it for so long? To his right, Tooru is slumped over now, fully succumb to the drug.
“You don’t smell so sickening anymore.” Tsutomu approaches when he’s certain Shouyou is too weak to fight back. He fingers the cream turtleneck before yanking it down, exposing the bitemark marring his scent gland. “As I thought. So who’s the one who finally claimed you? Was it Bokuto? Guess it doesn’t really matter. Once Ushijima’s through with you, his name will be the only one you’ll ever know.”
Shouyou loosely grips Tsutomu’s wrist. “You don’t have to do this … Please … Leave Tooru … Don’t take Tooru …”
His vision starts to blur, but he sees the omega’s eyes flicker from Tooru to Shouyou and back again. “Don’t tell me … You and Oikawa?”
“Tsutomu …” he swallows, fighting to keep his eyelids open. “Please …”
“It took guts to try and take on two of ours on your own. Especially so close to our territory,” another voice says from somewhere—but he can’t tell where.
Tsutomu lets go as he turns to look over his shoulder, and Shouyou collapses against Tooru’s body. He tries to keep his eyes open; he tries to get a look at the person who spooked Tsutomu, but the tranquilizer wins over in the end, and he slips under with the horrific thought that this is it. This is how they die.
*
Voices ring like the toll of distant bells. Soft, soothing and melodic. Fingers card through his hair with the gentleness of a paramour, beckoning him from the sinking slumber. He struggles to open his eyes. Light lashes his vision. His surroundings blurry and incomprehensible.
“You’re finally awake.” A hand cups the side of his face, and he squints to identify the person above him.
Piercing olive eyes glare at him with murderous intensity. The world spins as he jerks away, falling off the edge of a couch onto a carpeted floor. His throat burns from the blood-curdling scream that rips from his throat. His head bounces against the edge of a coffee table, and who he thought was Wakatoshi is replaced by Tooru, who immediately reaches to grab him.
Someone snorts. “Imagine having a face someone screams and runs away from.”
“He was just startled!” Tooru squawks, cradling Shouyou against his chest. “It had nothing to do with my perfect face!”
The initial shock wears off, and he clings to Tooru’s jacket. “T-Tooru.”
“That’s more like it,” he coos. “No reason to be scared. You’re completely safe.”
It takes a moment for Shouyou to get his bearings. Once his heart has levelled out, and he can breathe without pain, he pulls away to get a proper look at his surroundings. They’re back home, nestled in the second living room with the bar. Most of Fukuroudani are there, as well as Atsumu and Kiyoomi.
“What … where …?” He looks back at Tooru for answers. “We were caught. Tsutomu had us cornered. We—he shot me with a dart.”
“It could’ve ended badly,” Keiji says, leaning over the back of the couch. “If Tooru hadn’t sent me a message, we wouldn’t have known.”
“When did you do that?”
Tooru winks. “What would you do without me, eh? I sent it when I was listening in on Mr Setoguchi’s conversation with Ushijima.”
Shouyou turns back towards Bokuto’s righthand man, baffled. “And Tsutomu? What happened to Tsutomu?”
“He got away, unfortunately,” the beta answers. “He ducked into a theatre, and by the time we convinced an employee to stop the movie and turn on the lights, he’d already escaped.”
His shoulders sag and he wraps his arms around Tooru’s neck, nuzzling against his scent gland. “I thought we were goners. I thought … I really thought …”
Tooru’s grip tightens around him. “I know.”
“They shouldn’t be sent on anymore spy operations.” Tatsuki turns to Keiji. “Their work has been imperative to the countermeasures taken against South Side, but things are getting out of hand. If Shiratorizawa are openly attacking our rogues, it means Ushijima no longer cares about maintaining peace between territories.”
Keiji pinches the bridge of his nose. “It was only a matter of time. First it was the East, now it’s the West, if we—”
A sudden wave of nausea twists Shouyou’s gut and he throws himself off the couch and sprints towards the nearest bathroom. He slaps a hand over his mouth when his body gives a premature lurch. He ignores the calls of his name chasing him down the corridor.
The tiles bite his knees as he skids to a stop and heaves his guts into a toilet bowl. There isn’t much his body can give. Only the brown cola of his frozen mocktail.
A hand pats him on the back. His mark prickles warmly.
“I’m starting to think you do it on purpose, you know.”
He gags. “D-Do what on purpose?”
Tooru smiles. “Make me worry.”
“I don’t—” but he doesn’t get to finish his reply before bile hits the back of his throat. Tooru continues to rub circles against his back, cooing sweetly.
“Your body doesn’t react well to sedatives, hm? Poor baby.”
“Is he alright?” Keiji’s voice echoes off the tiles.
“Just some post-sedative nausea. It should wear off soon.”
Sweat slicks his brow and the tips of his fingers tremble, paying little attention to the trickles of conversation around him. He has his head in the toilet for almost an hour. People come and go to check on him, but Tooru remains as the sole source of comfort. A steady hand constant against his back.
When the sickness finally recedes, his head flops back. He gulps, and flinches at the soreness in his throat. “Tooru. Meat buns?”
His mate snorts, digging his fingers into his apricot curls. “How about we start with some toast?”
He pouts. “Milk bread toast?”
The alpha rolls his eyes. “Um, duh?”
“Can I have it with peanut butter?”
Ten minutes later he’s swinging his legs over the edge of the couch, munching on a piece of toast. Tooru settles down next to him, an arm thrown across the back of the couch. He changes the channel, and Atsumu scowls from his spot on the adjacent sofa.
“Hey, I was watching that!”
“No he wasn’t,” Kiyoomi interjects, flipping the page of a magazine.
“Omi-chan!”
“Change it to the news,” Shouyou says through a mouthful of bread. “I wanna know if they’re reporting about what happened today.”
Tooru switches to the news, but it’s currently running commercials.
“What’s the point of watching the news report. You were there to experience it!” Atsumu mutters grumpily. “It’s not like they’re going to tell us anything we don’t already know.”
“No, but it might tell us something else.” Shouyou rubs away the crumbs on his fingers. “The news has refused to hold Wakatoshi accountable for the attacks. Since Tendou and the others showed their faces in public today, I wanna see if they’ll actually name drop Shiratorizawa or if they’ll chicken out.”
“Welcome back. As Upper Tokyo comes to grips with yet another rogue-related attack in the city’s crown jewel, an update has surfaced that involves the unidentified vigilante known only as ‘The Nightcrawler’. As attention from the South Side packs were drawn towards Bambino Casino late this afternoon, a masked figure was seen fleeing the scene of a car bombing in Middle Tokyo’s Kirawaze. Authorities have yet to identify what was in the van, but police speculate that it is likely related to Don Ushijima’s operations in some way, which is consistent with the vigilante’s previous actions …”
“Honestly, who does that clown think he is?” Tooru huffs. “Running around in all black and a mask, playing super hero. Seems like a child’s idea of justice more than anything else.”
“I bet he’s handsome,” Shouyou sighs dreamily. “There’s something so mysterious about a man in a mask, don’t you think?”
Tooru leans over to brush his nose against his mark, stirring a shiver up his spine. “That’s strange. You never mentioned you were into that before.”
“I—I didn’t mean it like that!” He splutters, almost choking on a piece of bread.
Atsumu cocks an eyebrow, smirking. “Come to think of it, you did ask if I could wear a paper bag over my head while we did it.”
Kiyoomi smacks Atsumu over the head with a rolled-up magazine. “That’s probably because he was thinking of Oikawa.”
A shadow of betrayal passes across Atsumu’s face as he whips his head back in Shouyou’s direction. “Say it ain’t so, Shouyou!”
Crossing his arms, he avoids eye-contact with everyone. Tooru pulls him closer, nibbling the tip of his ear. “You didn’t tell me that. Were you thinking of me when you were making your way through Nekom—”
“No!” He squeaks. “I was not! And you two—” he shoves a finger at Atsumu and Kiyoomi “—not another word! Don’t you know it’s rude to kiss and tell!”
“… Mayor Kikutani has since come out with a statement concerning the recent crime rates …” It cuts from the news studio to footage of Mayor Kikutani standing behind a podium holding a press conference. Whatever Atsumu retorts goes ignored as Shouyou jumps to his feet with a scream, pointing at the TV. The plate on his lap hits the floor with a dull thud.
“That—that’s Kei!”
Sprouting above the sea of heads behind the mayor is the unmistakable face of his former packmate: Tsukishima Kei. It pains him to notice that he’s gotten even taller over the past four years, easily beating out the adults surrounding him by at least a head. The bastard! His blonde hair is a little longer, falling over his glasses, and his bored expression brings Shouyou so much happiness that he forgets for a moment that he’s standing at home in the living room instead of seeing him in the flesh.
“Why’re you so surprised?” Tooru grumbles, picking up Shouyou’s plate and setting it on the coffee table. “Weren’t you listening the last time Kuroo was over? He told you Tsukishima works in the mayor’s office now.”
“I—I know that.” He flushes, sinking back onto the couch. “I just didn’t think I’d ever see him—and he’s right there! On TV!”
It’s a funny thing—time. In the beginning, when Shouyou was forced to leave South Side for good and join Fukuroudani, those first few months crawled along like a centipede without its legs. Each day was a carbon copy of the last. An endless cycle of pain and despair that he carefully hid behind a mockery of his happy countenance. He didn’t want everyone else to worry. But more importantly, he didn’t want anyone to think of him as weak. After all, he was the one who got away the most unscathed. Sawamura was missing, Sugawara was marked, and everyone else was shackled to the oppressive hand of their Don.
Shouyou got to be free. He got to be with the friends he’d made in Nekoma, and was under the protection of a Don far kinder and far gentler. He made new bonds, new connections that would nurture through the rest of his adolescence into manhood.
So, what right did he have to despair?
It was one thing to tell himself that, and another to put those words to practice.
Time did what it always did, and eventually the punishingly slow repetition plaguing him one day after the other receded. In the blink of an eye, four years had passed.
Only seeing Kei now, on TV, brought reality crashing down on Shouyou. Four years went by for him like a breeze, but what about his former packmates. Where were they all now? Have they changed their appearances like Tendou and Shirabu? Do they still enjoy eating the same foods? Are they studying or do they have jobs? Have they …
Have they moved on?
His face becomes pensive without him meaning to. Tooru immediately picks up on the shift in his demeanour. A hand pets him on the head, but Shouyou barely realises. If it weren’t for the prickle of his mark he might not have noticed at all. His eyes are locked on the TV screen long after the image of the major and—by extension—Kei have vanished. The news segment has turned to something else.
Has he moved on? Shouyou never gave it much thought.
Whenever Karasuno cross his mind—as they often do when he’s daydreaming—it’s always with a dose of curiosity. An idle pondering. He never once considered that they’d all moved on. And that he had inadvertently moved on too.
A nauseating twist of his stomach cancels his train of thought. Not again. He excuses himself and calmly leaves the room. The moment eyes are off him, he makes a break for the nearest bathroom.
Notes:
omg guys next chapter. NEXT CHAPTER. AHHHHH!
Chapter 26: Daichi
Notes:
Hi guys, so sorry for the delay. I had a family emergency. I'll be responding to last chapter's comments some time tonight!
TW: Mentions of mutilation, gore, and adult conversation.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
It was Kuroo who broke the news to Shouyou. A couple weeks after the incident at the casino, they were in the lounge room playing video games. Well, Shouyou was playing video games with Atsumu. Being the only adult in the apartment with a drop of maturity (aside from Akaashi and Sakusa), Tooru was reading a book.
It was a futile endeavour. He couldn’t concentrate over all the excitement, but he also wasn’t inclined to leave his mate alone with a past lover. Not to say that he was jealous or anything—just protective.
It was shaping up to be an uneventful night just like any other. That was, until Kuroo barged through the door, hunching over and noticeably out of breath.
“Shouyou,” Kuroo heaved. His expression was painfully taught, and the smile slowly vanished from Shouyou’s face. “Shouyou, we found him.”
He looked at Tooru, then back at Kuroo. “Found who?”
And then Kuroo says the one name nobody thought they’d ever hear again, one that sparked both joy and dread from deep within them: “Daichi.”
From the moment they enter the hospital, before Kuroo even has the chance to tell them what room Daichi is in, the little ginger shoots through the lobby out of sight. Nurses jump out of his path and a gurney steers to the left to dodge him. Tooru and Kuroo are left in the wake of destruction, bowing and apologising on the omega’s behalf.
Kuroo’s news had shattered Tooru’s nightly routine with his mate. After video games sufficiently tired Shouyou out, Tooru would’ve carried him off to bed where they would make gentle love. He likes having the curtains pulled all the way back so that the moonlight bathed their naked bodies. But no. Tooru should’ve learnt by now that he can never have his way.
What a crazy couple of weeks it’s been! They’d had a close brush with Shiratorizawa, taken tranquilizer darts with enough potency to take out an adult gorilla, Shouyou’s gotten all chatty about what his former packmates might be up to after seeing Tsuki-whatever on TV, and now this. Fate has brought them to a hospital in Middle Tokyo’s West at—what it is now—10pm? Fucking hell.
Nekoma’s leader regaled the rescue mission to them on the car ride here. Four years Nekoma searched for the missing founder of Karasuno. Four long, hard years. Akaashi left the burden in Kuroo’s hands because of his emotional investment in the task. It paid off, but at what cost to Kuroo’s sanity? Tooru watched as the sly, cunning number one sharpshooter of the West (though he was demoted to number two after Tooru joined the ranks … this has been confirmed by nobody other than himself, but you’ll have to take his word for it) whittle away piece by piece. He’s still handsome, but he’s gaunter in the cheeks and a little less playful.
He never brought it to Shouyou’s attention. It was an unspoken rule that Sawamura and the rest of Karasuno never be mentioned in his mate’s presence unless he brought it up first. But it did cross his mind once or twice to say something to Akaashi or Bokuto.
Every lead was seen to the end—most of them time-wasters. Kuroo long suspected that if Shiratorizawa were keeping Sawamura alive, they were moving him to different locations so that he’d be harder to pin down.
Their most recent lead took them to a warehouse on the docks of Lower Tokyo. Apparently, they’d found him in a box with holes cut out of the sides. From its description it almost sounded like a coffin. Kuroo went quiet after that. It took enough effort to explain as much as he had, but the alpha couldn’t speak any further on the subject.
They find Shouyou by the stairwell. Frozen with his hand on the railing. As if just realising he has no idea where he’s going.
Kuroo smacks him upside the head. “Idiot! You’re causing trouble for the medical staff!”
Under any other circumstance, Tooru might’ve taken Kuroo’s head off for that.
The omega usually reacts in one of two ways depending on who’s scolding him. For someone like Kuroo, Shouyou’s close friend, he’d rub his head and crow that he did nothing wrong. If it was someone he respects—say Akaashi—he would drop to his knees and grovel shamelessly, and wouldn’t stop until he was forgiven. But Shouyou gives neither of those responses. When he looks up at them, Tooru and Kuroo go silent.
Scratching the back of his head, Kuroo changes his tune. “Look, I know you’re worried, but you just need to calm down. The staff have enough shit to deal with on a regular basis. I know where Daichi’s room is, so just follow me, alright?”
Shouyou nods mutely.
Tooru wraps an arm around his shoulder and they follow Kuroo up to the second floor of the hospital. Shouyou keeps his eyes trained on his feet, like he’s concentrating hard on putting one step in front of the other. Tooru gives his shoulder a squeeze, letting him know that even if he falls, Tooru will be there to catch him.
They come to a stop at a door at the end of the hallway in the Intensive Care Unit. Kuroo swivels around, bending down slightly so that he’s eye-level with Shouyou. “I’m not gonna sugar-coat anything for you, Shou. What you’re about to see is going to shock you. When we found Daichi we … He was in a bad state. In all my years as a rogue, I’ve never seen something that gruesome. Even Yaku had to step outside because he couldn’t handle it.”
Taking a deep breath, Shouyou squares his shoulders and puts on a brave face. “I’ve been waiting four years for this. I’m ready to see my leader.”
They shuffle into a dimly-lit private room. The gasps and exhales of a ventilator give a warning for what they’re about to see, but not enough time in the world could fully prepare them. Shouyou stumbles to the bedside, crying out Sawamura’s name, and a single misty eye opens. A hand, with only its forefinger and thumb left intact, reaches out blindly in the direction of Shouyou’s voice, and the omega grabs it in his smaller hands.
“S—… Shouyou,” the voice rasps. It barely sounds like Sawamura at all.
“Yes! I’m here! Daichi, I’m here! Oh god, oh my god you’re …” Shouyou takes in his ex-leader’s condition with tears in his eyes.
Tooru can’t even move from his spot at the foot of the bed.
It’s clear Sawamura can’t see through his left eye, even though it can move and respond to movement and light. The right eye is hidden behind a bandage—likely missing (the same eye Shouyou took from Ushiwaka. He doubts it’s a coincidence). The outline of his body beneath the bedcovers stops abruptly below the thighs, and his arms are angled strangely, as if they’d been broken, healed awkwardly, and then broken again. Most of his fingers are missing, with just a single finger on his left hand that Shouyou holds. One of his ears has been cut off, and gauze has been wrapped around his head, but does little to hide his baldness.
Sawamura yanks his hand out of Shouyou’s, and prods the air. When Sawamura speaks, it’s with great effort. “Your face … Let me feel your face.”
Shouyou guides the hand to his cheek, and Sawamura’s eyebrows draw in concentration as he glides a calloused hand across the omega’s features. “Still Shouyou.”
“Y-Yes,” he chokes. “It’s still me.”
“Kara …”
Shouyou leans forward, hanging on every syllable that trembles from Sawamura’s mouth. “Yes …?”
“Karasuno …”
The omega inhales sharply. “I don’t know where they are, Daichi. I haven’t seen any of them in four years. So much has changed—I’m a member of Fukuroudani now, and—and I have a mate!”
Sawamura’s frown deepens. His hand travels down to Shouyou’s neck, poking at his mark. Tooru suddenly gets the sense that he’s in mortal peril. “Who …?”
“T-Tooru,” Shouyou answers uncertainly.
The dying man gives a shuddering breath. “Bastard.”
“Hey!”
The blind eye settles on him, and he feels all his anger evaporate at once. “Oikawa …?”
Hesitantly crossing to Shouyou’s side, he leans over Sawamura. “Yes?”
“If I had all my fingers … I’d put a fist … through your teeth.”
Tooru rolls his eyes. “Was the energy it took to say that really necessary? You should be on your knees—er hands—I mean elbows—thanking me. I’ve been the one keeping Shou-chan safe all these years, unlike you!”
A sharp pain hits him in the ribs. He looks down to see Shouyou’s scowl. “Don’t be rude, Tooru. This isn’t the time to be petty.”
“He started it!” he crows.
“Shou …”
The boy in question leans closer. “Yes, Daichi?”
Sadness passes across the alpha’s scarred and beaten face. “There isn’t much time.”
There’s a beat of silence. Shouyou blinks. “What do you mean?”
Kuroo steps forward, having been silent up until this point. “His organs are failing and his body is shutting down. The most doctors can do is keep him alive with machines, but he’s only got five months.”
“Five months?” Shouyou echoes, slowly turning to look at the Nekoma leader. “What do you mean by that? Five months in hospital? Five months of recovery?”
Kuroo looks away, his face scrunched in agony. “Five months to live.”
The shock renders Shouyou silent. Sawamura grips his hand, the corners of his mouth upturning in a ghost of a smile. “I want to see them … Karasuno … together again … Shouyou, bring them here … bring back my flock.”
Shouyou’s head falls as if in prayer, and Tooru can’t see his expression. He’s glad, because if he could see his mate’s face it’d be burnt into his memory, haunting him for life. All Tooru can do is rest his hand on the back of Shouyou’s neck to let him know that he’s there. That’s how they stand, still as stone, with only Sawamura’s ventilator filling the painful quiet.
The spell is broken, though, when Tooru’s and Kuroo’s phones vibrate. Tooru doesn’t bother checking it; whatever it is, it can wait.
“Fuck. Of all the times for this to happen …” The couple turn their heads towards Kuroo, who’s glaring at his phone. “Ushijima just updated your bounties.”
Tooru and Shouyou share a look. He checks his phone to see he’s gotten the same message, forwarded by Akaashi.
‘Hinata Shouyou and Oikawa Tooru – 500 million yen unharmed.’
It’s at this moment he’s reminded that they’re in a hospital in Middle Tokyo without backup, and multiple witnesses saw them leave the haven of Western Heights. If by chance they passed someone with connections to any of the rogue packs—allied territories or not—they’ve unwittingly found themselves in a very precarious situation.
Just as the dread sinks in, his phone buzzes, and he picks up without looking at who it is, though he could take an educated guess.
“Akaashi?”
He’s hit the mark (but are you really surprised?). “You have to come back. It’s too dangerous for the two of you to be seen outside Western Heights.”
“Hello to you too, Aka-chan. Now’s not the best time for us.” It’s as if Sawamura has monopolised Shouyou’s fickle attention to the point where the ginger barely registers his surroundings anymore.
“Sorry to be an inconvenience, but I don’t think rogues are going to politely wait for you outside the hospital until you’re ready. If you don’t leave now, you not only put yourselves in danger, but Daichi in danger as well.”
If he were in the mood of it, he’d argue with Akaashi. It’d buy Shouyou more time. Another minute or another second in the presence of the man who took him in and made him a member of his pack. But he also can’t deny the beta’s logic. “Shou-chan.”
The ginger stares at the ceiling and whispers, “I know. We have to go.”
His gaze softens. “I’m sorry.” Then he says to Akaashi: “We’re leaving now. If we aren’t back by—” he checks the time “—one, assume the worst.”
“I’ll send people to meet you at the carpark.”
“Alright.”
Shouyou moves closer to Sawamura, who’s been quietly listening. “Daichi? I have to go. Something’s just come up. But I’ll bring them back. All of them. I won’t rest until every member of Karasuno is sitting here by your side, OK?”
Sawamura closes his eye, Shouyou’s declaration bringing a peaceful look to his features. “Be safe.”
“You two go,” Kuroo says outside the hospital room, flinging Tooru his keys. “I’ll organise a guard rotation to make sure nobody comes sniffing around here for Shouyou.”
“Thank you, Tetsurou,” Shouyou says.
Kuroo stuffs his hands into his pockets and shrugs, as if the gratitude was unneeded. “Were you serious about what you said? Are you actually going to find the other Karasuno members?”
Tooru scowls. “Of course he wasn’t serious. He was just giving comfort to a dying man.”
The omega whirls around, his cute face set with determination. “I was serious. I owe Daichi my life. The least I can do is fulfil his dying wish.”
He folds his arms and cocks his hip, daring the omega to test him. “Oh really? And when are you going to do that, hm?”
“As soon as we get home.” The ginger circles around him and marches down the hallway.
Tooru huffs and calls out Shouyou’s name, halting him. “You can’t. Haven’t you checked your calendar? Your heat’s due any day now, isn’t it?”
“My …” Shouyou frowns, looking at a spot on the floor like he’s trying to figure something out.
One of the most significant lifestyle changes his mark made was to their heat/rut cycles. Before the mark, their cycles didn’t coincide, missing one another by a couple of weeks. Now it’s Shouyou’s heat that triggers Tooru’s rut, and only Shouyou’s heat. Tooru made a point of casually keeping track of the omega’s cycle so he can plan his schedule around it.
Panic lights up Shouyou’s eyes and he snaps his head towards Tooru. “What’s the date today?”
“It’s the 12th,” Kuroo answers before Tooru can check.
A nurse almost drops her clipboard when Shouyou whips around and grabs her arm. “Is there a pharmacy in this hospital?”
“Uh—yeah. First level next to the lobby.”
Shouyou bolts down the hallway before the nurse has even finished her sentence.
Tooru looks back at Kuroo, hoping that his skills of deduction can clue him in on what just happened. The Nekoma alpha sighs. “He never explains things before he acts, does he?”
Tooru rolls his eyes. “My life in a nutshell.”
“Whatever he’s doing, he better get it over with quick. Daichi’s recovery won’t be a secret for long—if the alarm hasn’t been raised already. I doubt Ushijima will try to get Daichi back, considering he’s already at death’s door, but any rogue with half a braincell will put together Shouyou’s association to Karasuno and assume he’s come here.”
“I’ll handle it. You just …” he looks back at the dark-haired man, seeing the toll of Sawamura’s condition carving harsh lines under his eyes. “Take it easy.”
Kuroo snorts. “It’s not like you to care.”
“I don’t care. If Sawamura gets assassinated, Shou-chan will be sad, and then I’ll be sad. See? It all comes full circle. So don’t let Sawamura die, yeah?”
He shoots a peace-sign over his shoulder and then guns it down the hallway after Shouyou. He thinks that maybe he’s well and truly lost the omega by the time he makes it to the lobby, but he gets lucky when he catches a flash of orange disappearing behind a toilet door.
“Shou-chan?” Tooru tests the door to find it locked. “You in there?”
“Y-Yes. Give me a minute, will you?”
“We don’t have a lot of time. Be quick.”
“Yeah.”
Leaning against the door, he surveys the lobby like a paranoid druggie. It’s such a burden to be this attractive. How can he sort lust from suspicion? The nurse that just passed him—was she looking at him because she was appreciating his physique, or was she trying to figure out if he’s Oikawa Tooru: Wanted Rogue?
He runs a hand through his hair.
Every time the glass doors slide open his head snaps in its direction, expecting a gun-wielding assassin to come storming into the reception area at any moment.
After ten minutes he raps his knuckles aggressively against the door. “Hurry up, we’ve gotta get out of here.”
“Alright!” Shouyou snaps.
Hm. It’s not like the omega to get irritated.
Pressing his ear against the door, he thinks he hears Shouyou talking to someone, but it’s so quiet that he must be imagining things.
Another seven minutes go by and Tooru is preparing to break down the door. He’s prepared to do it, too, until it opens to reveal a puffy-eyed Shouyou. In his hand is a plastic bag from the clinic, but he can’t tell what’s inside it.
“Shou-chan, you—”
“Let’s get going.” Shouyou forces a smile and offers Tooru his hand. Ugh, he hates it when Shouyou forces a smile. It reminds him that he has a heart. But as much as he wants to sit the omega down and have a touching conversation, one likely reconciling with their childhood traumas and finding inner peace, it just isn’t the right time or place for that.
They flee from the hospital and make it back to Upper Tokyo without incident. Sakusa and Atsumu are waiting in the parking lot to escort them. They only exchange a couple of words on their way up, the group either too tense or too upset to make small talk. While Atsumu isn’t familiar with packs from South Side, Sakusa apparently has a bit of history with Karasuno. It’s hard to say whether Sawamura’s current condition affects him; Sakusa’s face looks as if it’s frozen in a perpetual state of depression, even when he’s overjoyed.
Akaashi opens the door before Atsumu can press his key to the lock, immediately snatching Shouyou’s wrist and pulling him further into the apartment.
“Hey! Do you have something against greetings? You’re so rude!” Tooru whines, dragging his tired body after them.
The scene he’s greeted with in the bar area doesn’t surprise him. Bokuto and Akaashi fuss over Shouyou like he’s the child they never had—identically to how Sugawara and Sawamura treated him. Guess the omega just brings out the parent in childless couples.
The ginger is enveloped in The Don’s arms as Akaashi runs a hand through his hair, murmuring sweet nothings into his ear. Tooru makes a beeline for the bar to pour himself a drink. His go-to is a cosmopolitan, but that requires more than one ingredient and frankly, he lacks the energy to care. What a night.
“Do you have the tests? Do you mind showing them to me?” he hears Akaashi ask.
“Y-Yes. I took two just in case,” Shouyou answers, his voice just as soft.
Tooru has his back to them, pouring dark, rich whisky over two blocks of ice (a favourite of Iwaizumi’s).
So much to process. So much to contemplate. Ushiwaka must have had a special kind of wrath for Sawamura Daichi if he was willing to put in so much effort to torture him—for four years, no less. He’s had the displeasure of knowing the bastard for a long time. If it’s one thing he’s taken away from Ushiwaka as a person, he never tolerates anything that doesn’t suit a purpose. If he in any way felt that torturing Sawamura for so long wasn’t worth the effort, he would have killed the Young Grandmaster and been done with it. Given that wasn’t the case, he can’t help but suspect Ushiwaka may have allowed Sawamura to be found and retrieved in the end.
But why? To send a message—or was it perhaps to prove a point?
Little will likely be done about poor old Sawamura. As a rogue of South Side, it was technically Ushiwaka’s jurisdiction to do whatever he pleased with him, regardless of his affiliations with packs from other territories.
That wouldn’t dissuade Shouyou from seeking retribution. It will be up to Tooru to let him down gently, to explain that there’s nothing West Side can do about it. Maybe they should start another puzzle together—something to take Shouyou’s mind off things. The one they completed last summer still hangs in the hallway outside their bedroom of a place somewhere in Japan’s countryside.
He turns just as Shouyou pulls something out of the plastic bag, and his eyes fall to the two sticks he passes to Akaashi. The glass slips from his hand and hits the marble floor, spitting whisky onto his pant leg and cracking the glass down the middle. A pressure closes around Tooru’s throat. The rest of the world may have caught fire and it wouldn’t have mattered, because he’d hardly feel the flames searing his flesh.
“What’s that?” He can’t stop the hysteria seeping into his voice. He takes a step forward. “Shouyou, what is that?”
Akaashi blinks down at the omega. “You haven’t told him?”
Shouyou looks precarious, like he’s one small push away from breaking into a million tiny pieces. In the back of Tooru’s mind, he knows he should be careful, but the panic is so profound that all reason has abandoned him. “I didn’t know how.”
The anxiety kicks it up a notch, and Tooru is ready to throw a fit. “Shou—”
“Shouyou is pregnant.” Akaashi throws a stick at him and he catches it automatically.
It’s as he feared. His eyes hadn’t deceived him. What Shouyou handed to Akaashi was, in fact, a pregnancy test. No—not just any pregnancy test, a positive pregnancy test. Oh this is great. This is just great. Trust the universe to have impeccable timing!
“You were wrong.” Shouyou sniffs. “About my cycle. My heat was due two weeks ago. I didn’t even realise until you mentioned it.”
With practiced calmness, Tooru places the test on the bar and picks up the shards of his broken glass. His mouth opens, then closes, and then he disposes of the shards. Patting down his suit, he turns back towards the group, opens his mouth again, then closes it, and shrugs.
“Not a big deal,” Tooru says, his words strangled. It felt as if he were stuffing a sleeping bag into a mousehole. You can fix this, he repeats over and over to himself. You’re still in control. “I’m sure we can get in contact with a doctor willing to conduct an abortion. The penalty is five years in prison, but with the right price there are plenty of people who’d take the risk—perhaps someone in Lower Tokyo.”
“A-Abortion?” Shouyou splutters. “Who said anything about getting an abortion?”
Tooru blinks. “What? You mean you want to keep it?”
It’s a fair thing to ask, isn’t it? But Shouyou looks as if he isn’t prepared for the question, like someone who’s shown up to a debate without their cue cards. The wheels turn inside his mind, scrambling for a concrete answer, until the resolve solidifies in his pretty eyes and he concludes: “Yes. I want to keep it.”
Feeling abandons his legs and he grabs a stool for support. Him—a father, could you imagine anything more laughable? How did this even happen? He thinks back to three months ago to their last heat and rut, but it’s all a feverish blur. Did he wear protection? Surely …
“And you’re certain it’s mine?”
Akaashi and Bokuto shoot him scathing looks. It’s a stupid question—he knows it’s a stupid question, but a tiny, naïve, selfish part of him wants that answer to be ‘no’ so he can wash his hands of any responsibility.
Shouyou rolls his eyes so hard it must’ve hurt. “Yes, Tooru. It’s definitely yours.”
He hides his face in his hands. Someone up there is laughing at him. There’s not a doubt in his mind. He’s always been very vocal about the fact that he never wanted kids. The way his biological parents treated him was enough to convince him that parenthood was nothing but a void where dreams and ambitions go to die. Rationally he knows that his childhood experience isn’t universal. Certain lucky bastards had parents who were prepared to take on the responsibility of a child and create safe and loving environments to accommodate them. Some weirdos have childrearing sewn into their DNA, and would give anything and everything to be able to raise a family of their own.
But not Tooru. Fuck no.
Not only would he be a terrible father, but their current circumstances are fucked up as they are. Bringing a child into the mix … It would only be asking for more trouble.
Shouyou crosses the room, his hands balled into fists at his side and a look of determination knitted into his brow. If Tooru weren’t so numb with shock, he might’ve found the fire in the ginger’s eyes mildly arousing. He gets up in his face. Given their height difference Tooru thinks it must look almost comical. Like a chihuahua squaring up against a German shepherd.
“I’m keeping the baby,” the omega snarls with unyielding finality. His voice is low and calm, with underlying anger. He’s scared, Tooru realises. He can see it in his eyes. “If you don’t want to step up and be there for them, then fine. I didn’t choose you as a mate based on your paternal merits anyway. But don’t you dare try and talk me out of this.”
“I wouldn’t bother wasting my breath.” His lips coil into a bitter smile. “I know how stubborn you can be.”
Shouyou smothers the fear in his eyes. He snuffs it out like a dying flame and in its place a guarded look emerges. They’ve been together three years. In that time they’ve bickered and they’ve argued on more than a few occasions. They’re both strong-minded, strong-willed individuals who never back down from a challenge. But not once have they ever seriously fought. They may butt heads, but Shouyou is hands down one of the easiest people to love. He couldn’t stay mad at him, stubbornness be damned. In this moment, though, Tooru sees the situation with sinking clarity. On the surface Shouyou is nothing but thorns, a strong omega putting his foot down.
But as mates, Tooru is privy to more than just the surface of Shouyou. He can feel it through their bond. Shouyou is hurting. He’s in pain and he’s scared.
Their relationship, regardless of how strong the foundations it was built upon, has met a sudden crossroads, and Tooru has the misfortune of being the one to choose which direction to go in. Shouyou has already made his choice. It’s just a matter of whether or not he’s willing to follow him down the same path, or turn away.
Turn away to where, though?
He doesn’t want to be a father.
But he doesn’t want to lose Shouyou either.
Their faces are so close that the omega’s breath ghosts against his neck. There’s a magnetic pull willing them towards one another, and it takes all of Tooru’s dignity not to simply cave and submit himself to whatever his omega wants him to be. The mark is no laughing matter. Since he sank his teeth into the suppleness of Shouyou’s gland, there hasn’t been an hour that has ticked by where he hasn’t thought of the omega. His sweetness. His sunshine.
All he wants to do in that moment is touch him. To chase that conflicted look on his little face.
But he won’t. Tooru is a bastard, but at least he’s a consistent bastard.
Just when Tooru thinks the silent tension is going to suffocate him, Akaashi clears his throat and takes a step in their direction. “If you’re keeping the baby, we can’t let you leave the apartment. Ushijima won’t null the bounty, even if he finds out you’re pregnant.”
The omega turns away from Tooru and he’s able to breathe again.
“I imagine it’ll only make the hunt more aggressive. Anything to make my suffering worse.” His voice has turned hollow, flat, like he’s switched off all emotion. It doesn’t sound right coming from Shouyou’s mouth. He drifts towards the door, not sparing Tooru a second look. Look at me, he wants to scream. Tell him this all a stupid joke.
Akaashi relaxes, relieved. “I’m glad you understand the situation for it is. You of all people know how far he’s willing to take things.”
After a pause, Shouyou says: “I’m going to unite Karasuno. That’s the promise I made to Daichi. I can’t do that locked away in here.”
“We can do it,” Bokuto chimes in, the only person in the room that isn’t grave. He’s likely still reeling over the fact that he’s going to be an uncle. “We’ll find them for you.”
Shouyou shakes his head. “They’re my pack—were my pack. This is something I have to do myself.”
“Shouyou,” Akaashi says in warning, pinning the omega with a stern look. “You’re being selfish. If you’ve decided to keep this baby then you have to start taking its safety into consideration.”
“Will you stop me?” Shouyou challenges. “Will you lock me away?” The taunting word of ‘again’ is left from the question, but is strongly implied in Shouyou’s tone.
The beta and omega stare each other down, as they do whenever they’re butting heads. There was a time when Shouyou would never defy Akaashi, but since he turned eighteen Shouyou has fought more and more for control over his own agency. While Tooru can respect that Shouyou is mature enough to do what he wants, he also empathizes with Akaashi’s everyday struggle to keep the omega safe.
“No,” Akaashi finally say, his shoulders sagging. “You’re an adult, you can make your own decisions. So long as you accept that this recklessness puts both you and the baby at risk, I won’t stop you.”
Shouyou’s eyebrows draw together, eyes glittering with sincerity. “I have to. I’m sorry.”
“He won’t be alone.” Heads turn back towards Tooru. His gaze meets with Shouyou’s from across the room. “I’ll be by his side the whole time. And as you can see, my track-record is immaculate. Shiratorizawa haven’t laid a finger on him since he’s been under my protection, and I don’t intend to change that.”
If you ignore the little fact that Goshiki shot him with a dart the other week. But nothing came of it, so surely it doesn’t count?
Akaashi nods, a shadow of relief sagging his shoulders. He looks back at the omega. “If you insist on doing this Shouyou, we’ll help you in any way we can. I’ll organise a group to accompany you on your mission.”
Shouyou looks away, hiding his face from the other occupants in the room. When he responds, his voice for the first time has turned fragile. “Let’s talk more in the morning. I’m tired.”
“I’ll come join you in a bit,” Tooru says. Shouyou leaves, not acknowledging that he even heard Tooru at all.
He collapses onto the couch the moment Shouyou is out of sight, screaming into a decorative pillow. Bokuto pats him on the back like a father praising his son on getting good grades on his report card. “Congrats, Oikawa! You’re gonna be a daddy!”
“Don’t,” he hisses, pulling away the pillow to glare daggers at The Don. San Tokyo has never seen a Don quite as kind or good-natured as Bokuto, nor one quite as dim-witted either. “Don’t call me that—ever.”
“Yes, I guess that word has new connotations now that you’ll be hearing it from someone other than Shouyou,” Akaashi says with an edge of accusation Tooru doesn’t appreciate.
“You said the walls were soundproofed,” Tooru accuses with stinging betrayal.
Bokuto grins, making a 50-50 motion with his hand. “Semi-soundproof.”
“This is a disaster,” he groans, turning onto his side, hugging the pillow to his chest. “What if I end up exactly like my father? Or worse—my mother. I’m going to be a terrible parent! I’m going to fuck up that kid’s life so badly they’re going to pull an Ushiwaka on me and kill me out of spite!”
Concern pinches between Bokuto’s expressive eyebrows. “Hey, hey—you’re not giving yourself enough credit! Do you really think you’ll be like your parents? You told me once that your parents hated each other. That they couldn’t stand to be in the same room without getting into a screaming match. But you and Shouyou—you’re nothing like that! You adore each other very much!”
Tooru glares. “They only got that way after having me.”
“Oh.” Bokuto scratches his cheek. “Well that’s not good.”
“And if our relationship falls apart, it’s not like I can just leave either.”
Bokuto nods. “You marked him, so …”
Akaashi settles on the couch and reaches for him. At first, he thinks the beta is going to run his tender fingers over his cheek, feeding him the sympathy he so rightfully deserves. Instead, Akaashi twists his ear.
“Stop sulking. Shouyou has had one of the worst days of his life and you’re being an ass about something you have six months to worry about.”
“Hey! I’ve had a bad day too!” Tooru whines. Akaashi twists harder and he shrieks.
“Do you love Shouyou?”
“What kind of que—ah! Yes! Yes, I love him! Of course I do!”
“Then what are you doing on this couch?”
He leaps to his feet with a huff, runs a hand through his hair, and then disappears down the corridor before Akaashi can assault him again.
Shouyou is already in bed with his back facing him; a universal sign that he’s mad. He doesn’t need to prod their bond to understand it. As a former leader of a pack (some might say a very awesome, handsome pack) you’d think he would be a ‘rip the Band-Aid off’ kind of person that confronts issues head-on. And you’d be wrong. Dumbass.
He spends more time getting ready for bed than any sane person would think reasonable, and when he does emerge from the ensuite, he lingers by the door trying to decipher if Shouyou gave up and fell asleep.
“I’m not asleep,” Shouyou deadpans without turning to face him. Tooru nearly jumps out of his skin. The omega read his thoughts! 'Witch!’ his mind hisses.
“Of course you’re not,” he mutters under his breath.
It was stupid of him to even hope for such a thing. Even at twenty-one the omega hasn’t been able to shake his night terrors. Not that he’s complaining. It’s cute when the younger man clings to him in the dark. It makes him feel strong and important.
Dragging his heels to the bed, he slots himself under the blankets. He does everything in his power to be as innocuous as possible, scared that if he so much as grazes the omega’s calf it’ll set off a fuse. The hope that he can fall asleep without discussing today becomes less of a reality when he snuggles the duvet and compares it to Shouyou.
Con number 1: It’s not warm.
Con number 2: It’s not cute.
Con number 3: It’s not Hinata Shouyou.
Fuck it.
He turns back around to confront Shouyou’s passive-aggressive back. He waits, hoping Shouyou might break the tension. He knows the ginger has a lot on his mind. It’s not in his nature to keep his thoughts to himself. It’s one of the things he loves about the omega—most of the time. If he has something to say, he’ll say it, and you’d be damn sure you listen.
But when it becomes abundantly clear Shouyou has no intention of speaking, Tooru finally reaches his breaking point. He flips the omega on his back and gets on top of him, pinning his wrists on either side of his head. As he suspected, Shouyou’s eyes are wide open. He wasn’t even trying to sleep. The little shit knew he was going to crack under the tension and make the first move. I’m already losing and I didn’t even realise it.
He scoffs. “Do you really intend to go running around the city pregnant with a massive bounty on your head?”
Shouyou’s jaw is set so tight he’s surprised it hasn’t snapped off yet. “Yes.”
“Don’t.” It was supposed to be a demand, but it sounds more like a plea. “Shiratorizawa almost got us a few weeks ago. The closest they’ve ever gotten. They clearly aren’t fucking around anymore, not when Ushijima has his packmates personally hunting us down. Who’s to say the next time we step out of this apartment they won’t succeed? And if they get us, it won’t be a quick bullet in the head.”
Tears gather at the corner of Shouyou’s eyes, glittering like silver tears in the solemn moonlight.
Tooru’s grip loosens. He’s such weakling. “You don’t need me to remind you. You already know, and you’re going anyway.”
“Not like it matters to you,” Shouyou croaks.
He snarls in the omega’s face. “It matters a great deal, actually. Just because I don’t want to be a father doesn’t mean I want to see Ushiwaka giving you a forced hysterectomy on his dining table!” The imagery assaults Shouyou like a slap to the face, and he stiffen beneath him. Tooru immediately regrets his choice of words. He drops his head, his nose getting lost in apricot curls. “I’m just scared. I don’t want to see you or the baby hurt. All for the sake of a dying man’s wish. Let it go, Shouyou. Let it go. Karasuno are gone. Your old packmates have all likely moved on.”
“I can’t,” Shouyou whispers, his tears finally falling. “They’re my family.”
“They were your family.” It might’ve been a bit manipulative of him to place his hand on Shouyou’s stomach, especially after making his stance on the issue clear, but he’s desperate for the omega to see reason. “Are you willing to put your current family on the line to save the ghost of a disbanded pack? What good will it have done if you end up getting captured anyway?”
Shouyou’s gaze flickers to where Tooru’s hand is, then back to his expectant gaze. The omega swallows. “It won’t be a risk,” he says eventually, “because you’ll be there to protect us.”
Maybe it’s the innocence in Shouyou’s eyes when he makes the declaration, or maybe it’s the intimacy of their position, but something primal in Tooru snaps. He flips the omega onto his stomach latches his mouth to the mark scarring the side of his neck. Warmth pulses through their bodies, awakened by the skin tissue’s sensitivity. Shouyou’s whole body arches, his pert bottom pressing against Tooru’s nether regions.
“You always have to complicate things,” Tooru snarls. “From the moment Sawamura tried pawning you off to me you’ve been the bane of my existence.”
He shoves his hand under Shouyou’s night shirt and squeezes his breast, causing the omega to shudder.
“You’ll protect us,” the omega repeats in a breathy stutter.
His teeth graze the shell of Shouyou’s ear, grinding his hardening flesh against him. “With my life. I won’t let Ushijima touch you. I’ll send the man to hell in pieces, I’ll skin his pack alive and burn South Side to the ground if he hurts so much as a hair on your head. You’re mine. Nobody hurts what’s mine.”
Shouyou preens. He rolls his hips up against him in a teasing manner, breaking down the last of Tooru’s resolve.
He was never good at resist Shouyou. Even before he marked him.
Notes:
Some of you picked the pregnancy foreshadowing from MILES away XD
Chapter 27: Kei
Notes:
Love how for the first 20 or so chapters of this fic everyone was like 'WHERES OIHINA' and now that Oihina is here everyone is like 'WHERES KAGEYAMA'. Oi. I haven't forgotten Kageyama! I assure you he'll come back into the story, y'all gotta be patient XD
Chapter Text
Adjusting his wig, Shouyou appraises himself in the mirror. Blonde tufts of hair frame his face, a smidge longer and a shade lighter than the wig he used to wearing out in public. Blue eyes blink back at him in place of brown, easily dismissed from a distance, but uncanny if you look at them close enough. Using Tooru’s makeup sponge, he pats away at the sprinkle of freckles dotted across his nose and cheeks, and finishes it off with a white pin threaded through a lock of hair above his left ear.
It’s the last he has in his possession. Out of the three that were given to him after his first examination, one ended up in Wakatoshi’s eye, and another he smashed with a hammer the day he lost his virginity.
The one remaining is only worn for disguises.
Tooru spritzes him with vanilla perfume before moving to stand behind him, adjusting the cufflinks on his suit. Blue eyes meet with green ones in the reflection. “What’s your name?”
“Nagayasu Ren.”
He runs his fingers through his black wig. “Why are you looking for Sugawara Koushi?”
“I’m his cousin—”
“Try again.”
Shouyou quirks his lip. “I’m his childhood friend and I haven’t heard from him in a while.”
“Are you an Upper Tokyoite?”
“Yes.”
“Born and raised?”
“No. I grew up in Lower Tokyo. That’s how I know Sugawara.”
“That’s not the narrative he’s told publicly. His co-workers think he’s the son of an executive and was born and raised on the islands.”
“Then yes—born and raised in Upper Tokyo.”
“What level?”
“45th, Southern Heights.”
“You say you’re childhood friends, but you look much younger than Sugawara. How did the two of you meet?”
“At school—”
“Try again.”
Shouyou whines. “My mother is a family friend of the Sugawaras.”
Placing his hands on Shouyou’s shoulders, Tooru gives him a charming grin. “I doubt they’ll be too inquisitive, but be prepared for any curveballs they might throw at you. It’s been a few years since you’ve seen Suga-chan, so don’t be surprised if he’s changed a bit.”
Tooru’s right. Four years is a long time. Looking back at the kid he used to be, it’s hard to believe they’re even the same person. He couldn’t imagine how much Koushi has changed. It’s not really something he likes to think about. In his head, Koushi sits perched on a pedestal as an unshakeable figure, one full of love and affection for the children he helped raise. To strip away the maternal illusion, to picture Koushi as anything but that smiley, beacon of optimism is too confronting to stomach.
Voices call them from somewhere in the apartment. Tooru brightens. “Time to meet our dream team! Are you excited, Shou-chan?”
Akaashi had somehow pulled together a group of men willing to accompany them on the mission in the span of 24-hours. He’d be impressed, only he’s come to expect this level of coordination from the beta.
Shouyou grins. “I think I have an idea of who Akaashi chose to protect us.”
There’s only a finite amount of people Akaashi trusts after all. The beta in question is waiting at the entrance to Tooru’s room. They shoulder their duffle bags full of the essentials they’ll be needing for their stay at the Heaven’s Stair Hotel, and follow Akaashi out into the hallway.
“You know I’d go myself if I could,” he tells them as they’re led towards the sound of polite conversation coming from the vestibule, “but I’m afraid I don’t have the time to spare. The situation in the South and East is getting increasingly unstable by the day, and I’m trying my best to keep things from escalating to an all-out bloodbath.”
“We understand!” Shouyou hangs off Akaashi’s arm. If he were anyone else the beta would’ve shaken him off. “You’ve got a super important job to do! And what will Bokuto do without his carer?”
A smile touches the corners of his lips. “Indeed.”
Three men stand in the vestibule. Shouyou doesn’t so much as register the other two, because Kenma is there. On impulse he launches himself at the omega, letting out a piercing squeal. Kenma already has his arms open ready to catch him, pulling him in close and nuzzling the side of his head. Shouyou giggles and purrs, returning the lazy affection whole-heartedly.
“Wow, rude. I exist too, Shou.” He rolls his eyes as he pulls back from Kenma’s embrace, turning to poke his tongue out at Tetsurou.
“Know your place, Kuro,” Kenma teases, tucking Shouyou under his chin. “You’ll never be Shouyou’s favourite if you bitch and moan all the time.”
“Here I am, putting my life on the line for this kid, and this is the treatment I get?” Tetsurou crosses his arms over his chest and points his nose to the ceiling. “The disrespect.”
“Iwa-chan …?”
Tooru stands frozen in the corridor, staring at the third man. Shouyou steps out of Kenma’s arms, his jaw unhinged. “Woah! Iwaizumi-san!”
The spikey-haired alpha coughs into his fist and nods in greeting. “Long time no see, Hinata. You look well—I mean, given the circumstances.”
His eyes soften. “Yeah …”
At a glance, there’s really not much that has changed about the man. He’s as tall as he remembers, with the same short hair and the same mildly annoyed face; it’s as if he’d only seen him yesterday.
Tooru can’t seem to snap out of his own stupor. He gapes at his friend like an absent-minded fish. The ceiling could come crashing down around him and he wouldn’t even notice.
Iwaizumi rubs the back of his head, looking at Tooru out the corner of his eye. He spots the tiniest blush colouring his cheeks. “No need to make a big deal out of it. It’s just me.”
Blinking, Tooru gains back a little composure. The glimpse of a genuine smile flashes across his face, so brief that if you blink you’d miss it, before he throws himself at his childhood friend, strong arms locking around his neck. “Iwa-chan!”
Iwaizumi sighs, resigning himself to Tooru’s clutches, awkwardly patting him on the back as he whines and clings without a lick of shame. Shouyou and Tetsurou slap their hands over their mouths to stifle their own snickers, then immediately look away when Iwaizumi’s glares in their direction.
“I needed men who I could trust with your life, Oikawa, so I figured who better than the man who’s had your back from the beginning?” Akaashi steps forward, hands clutched behind his back.
Iwaizumi manages to dislodge from Tooru and drops into a respectful bow. “Thank you. I feel like I haven’t had the opportunity to prove my allegiance to you and The Don since you so graciously took our pack under your protection.”
Akaashi holds up a hand. “That’s not necessary. Seijoh have proven themselves well enough since they’ve joined us in the West. I should be the one thanking you for accepting my request.” He checks his watch. “You should get going. If you leave now, you’ll have enough time to check in to the hotel before the inquiry.”
“Better to go to the early learning centre first,” Shouyou argues. “That way we won’t have to travel between Upper and Middle Tokyo as much.”
“So long as you’re not stressed.” Akaashi fixes a blonde hair on Shouyou’s head. “Bokuto sends his best wishes. You know better than anyone that he wanted to be here to see you off. Remember to call us as soon as you check into the hotel, and to let us know if you run out of fresh clothes.”
Shouyou went over his plans to Kenma and he noted it all down, mapping out the virtual timeline on his tablet. There’s very little information anyone on the West Side has on the whereabouts of Karasuno; Kei being the only exception, thanks to Tetsurou. According to the members of Nekoma who shared classes with some of them at Kintsuru, they’d disappear and reappear sporadically throughout the school terms, and suspect some of them may have dropped out before completing their education (but they have no way of knowing, since Wakatoshi kept Karasuno on a tight leash after Shouyou’s transfer).
Tetsurou asked Kei about it, but the blonde won’t give him much. “There’s a lot he’s holding back, but it’s not really my place to ask, you know?”
“It’s fine.” Shouyou watches the numbers descend in the elevator. “You’re right, actually. It’s not your place to ask, but it is mine. Ask him out for coffee, somewhere conspicuous and open, you can leave the rest to me.”
Sunshine Early Learning is a cute little centre tucked away on the same floor as a primary school and a youth recreation hall. Children shriek and laugh in the outside play area as Shouyou shuffles through the front gate, the others left to wait awkwardly around a corner and hope nobody spots them.
He finds a young man in his early thirties pinning crayon drawings to a cork board in the hallway near the entrance, and he puts on a bright smile. “Hello there! Are you a teacher here?”
The man—a beta—looks down in surprise. “Yes, I am. Are you a—well, actually you look too young to be a parent. Are you an older sibling of one of the kids?”
His ears burn. Too young to be a parent. “No, I’m looking for someone. Does Sugawara Koushi still work here?”
“Suga …” The man frowns, but then he quickly registers the name. “Ah of course, yes Sugawara-san used to work here. Not for very long, unfortunately. He quit after only a year and a half. Such a pity, he was so good with the kids. They adored him.”
Shouyou swallows. Of course they did. Everyone adored Koushi. “He didn’t happen to say where or why he was leaving?”
The man shakes his head, adjusting the stack of drawings in his hands. “We weren’t even given a warning. One day we just got a phone call from his alpha saying he won’t be coming to work anymore. They didn’t say why.”
He’s willing to bet it probably wasn’t Wakatoshi himself who called in to the early learning centre. “Do you have any information on where Sugawara might be?”
The teacher shakes his head. “Sorry, we were left completely in the dark. The owners were considering taking legal action, since it says in our contracts that we have to give at least a month in advance before quitting, but apparently they dropped the idea fairly early. Don’t really know why.”
He tries not to let the disappointment show on his face. He’d be an idiot to think that it would be easy, that Koushi would still be working here. But he at least hoped his previous employers would have at least a general sense of where Koushi might’ve gone—a comment made in passing, or a transfer document, but it’s apparent Koushi was pulled out of his job without warning and that was that.
Bowing, he leaves without giving the teacher so much as a name.
In the group’s effort to look as innocuous as possible, they somehow look even more suspicious. Kenma has pulled the strings of his hoodie so that his face is completely concealed, Tetsurou has a hand on the wall of the recreation hall and is whistling (the epitome of innocence), and Tooru and Iwaizumi are already arguing loud enough that their voices carry throughout the centre.
“How’d it go?” Tetsurou asks. Shouyou doesn’t answer, heading straight for the elevators. They stop what they’re doing and immediately follow. “Yikes. That bad?”
“They gave me nothing,” Shouyou moans, jabbing B4 on the elevator and moping against the window. “They pulled him out without giving any notice and no one has heard from him since. It’s very on brand for Wakatoshi. I should’ve known to be honest.”
Tooru pulls him close. “So the first lead didn’t pan out. It’s not the end of the world. You knew this was going to be a struggle.”
He pouts, leaning into his mate’s warmth. “Doesn’t mean I have to be happy about it.”
“On the bright side—I called Tsukki. I’m meeting him at the Clockwork Café tomorrow at around noon,” Tetsurou says, mouth pulling into his signature catlike grin.
Shouyou nods to indicate that he’s heard, but doesn’t say much else for the rest of the way down to the carpark. They take two cars, separating Tooru from Shouyou. It doesn’t feel right, sliding into the backseat without his mate beside him, but it’s only a safety precaution.
Being marked by your bodyguard comes with its advantages. The breakdown Tsutomu gave him back when they were young and—well—friends, didn’t even gleam the surface of changes a mark makes to your relationship. They didn’t find out until about a year into their bond that separation leads to stress and anxiety, an obstacle they rarely ever have to tackle given that its literally Tooru’s job to stay by his side. So whenever they are apart, Shouyou has to remind himself that it’s fine—it’s not forever, they’ll see each other again.
Heaven’s Stair Hotel is one of the fanciest hotels in Middle Tokyo, so fancy in fact, that it has stairs that lead into Kokoro Tower, which is where it gets its name. They don’t go there directly from Upper Tokyo, instead taking the longer route through the Rainbow Highway to make sure they aren’t followed to their destination.
They’re stopped at a checkpoint along the way. It’s usually a mundane affair, but since there’s a gang war going on and a shadowed vigilante on the loose, they’ve upped their security at the gates. Tooru and Shouyou use fake passes and IDs (curtesy of Kenma), and they all have to endure a brief but intense interrogation by the guards. If Shouyou weren’t so used to slipping in and out of identities he would’ve stumbled under the pressure.
No one breathes a sigh of relief until they’re in the underground carpark beneath the hotel.
“How does that Nightcrawler guy do it?” Tetsurou leans over the steering wheel. “Moving between the gates every night … I never wanna do that ever again.”
“I don’t think he goes through the gates, Kuro.” Kenma undoes his seatbelt and turns to regard Shouyou in the backseat. “Are you OK?”
Shouyou grins and gives him a thumbs up. “No big deal. I can handle it.”
Iwaizumi already checked in the night before, so they don’t have to go through the lobby, they just go straight up to their rooms on the second-highest floor. An immense relief washes over them as Tooru and Shouyou enter their own room, immediately removing their uncomfortable wigs and their irritating contact lenses.
Yanking back the curtains, Tooru puts his hands on his hips and admires the view. “Sure is nice having a closer look at Middle Tokyo’s skyline, don’cha think, Shou-chan?”
The omega glances up from where he’s unpacking his things, and immediately looks away when he sees the afternoon sun caressing the side of Tooru’s handsome face. They’ve been together for years, and yet he still wonders how someone like Tooru would ever think twice about dating someone like him. An alpha with a face like that—he could have anybody, alpha, beta or omega it wouldn’t matter—and he chose him?
It doesn’t make much sense. Last night, when he found out about the pregnancy, he thought: This is it. This is what will tear our relationship apart.
Children—whether you want them or you don’t—is typically a deal breaker for most couples.
So why … why does Tooru want to still be with him?
He reaches up to touch his mark.
Arms embrace him from behind, a nose grazing the shell of his ear. “Shou-chan?”
The gentle murmur of his name sends goosebumps across his skin. Ignoring the butterflies tickling his belly, he continues pulling clothes out his duffle bag. “Yeah?”
“You’re mad.”
“No, I’m not.”
Tooru growls playfully, dragging him flush against his chest. “You are.”
He purses his lips, smoothing the creases of the shorts in his hand. “Can you please let go?”
“Not until you tell me what’s wrong,” the alpha whines.
“I can’t.”
Tooru’s hum sounds like a windchime, and it’s the only warning he gets before the older man hoists him up into his arms. A squeal leaves his lips and he automatically clings to the only thing he can reach, which happens to be Tooru’s neck. The position gives him no choice but to look straight into his partner’s stupid sexy face. How’s he expected to skirt around the issue when their mouths are only inches apart, and he’s giving him that look—the one that Tooru knows makes him weak at the knees.
“Shou-chan, you know I won’t accept that answer.”
Attempts to wriggle himself out of Tooru’s arms prove futile. He goes slack, glaring up at the ceiling. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe I don’t want to talk about it?”
“Oh I see, so it’s not that you can’t talk about it, it’s that you won’t talk about it.”
He levels Tooru’s smirk with a glare. “Is that so wrong?”
“If it means you keep looking at me with barely concealed anger then yes, it is wrong. You’re hurting my feelings.”
“It’s not … anger …” he mutters.
Tooru tilts his head and leans closer. “Hm? What’s that? I can’t hear you.”
His eyes narrow. “I said it’s not anger. I’m not angry at you. I’m just—I’m confused.”
“Well, Shou-chan, if you’re confused about something that has to do with me, why don’t I put your mind at ease? I’m all ears.” Oikawa plops down on the foot of the bed, causing their bodies to bounce. He leans in so that his breath tickles the nape of his neck. “You know you want to.”
A strangled whine dies off in his throat and he pushes the alpha away so that he can breathe. Tooru is notoriously persistent when he sets his mind on something. That raw, unyielding tenacity is something Shouyou admires under the right circumstances, but when it comes to broaching topics he would rather keep buried ten feet underground, it’s a royal pain in the ass. Who knew something he once admired about the alpha would turn into the bane of his existence?
“You say you don’t want kids …”
Tooru pauses, then he slowly says, “Yes, but you knew that about me long before we got together.”
“And I’m pregnant …”
“I feel like we’re treading on familiar territory here.”
Shouyou whips around, his face scrunches up in pain. “Is it the mark? Is the mark what’s keeping you from walking away from me?”
His chocolate brown eyes, so devastatingly gorgeous, soften sadly. “Why would you even think that?”
“I—I don’t know? Maybe because you were really freaked out last night?” Shouyou shakes his head, sickened by the memory. “The look on your face when I said I’m keeping the baby—for the first time since we got together you looked like you regretted all of it—guarding me, dating me, marking me—I thought for sure you were going break up with me.”
Horror pulls at Tooru’s expression and he clings tighter to him. “No! I never even considered that a possibility! How could you think so low of me? After all we’ve been through together …” He shakes his head frantically. “Losing you is much worse than having children!”
“I just—” Fiddling with the shorts still clutched in his hands, he struggles to piece together his next words. “I just don’t want you to see me as the cause of your unhappiness in the future. What if you internalise your regret and you start to resent me? What if you blame our child for all the things you wanted to do in life? What if … what if …” His hand goes to his stomach, his voice dropping to a whisper. “What if you hate it?”
Tooru’s shoulders rise and fall with a heavy sigh. “So you do think that low of me, huh? What a mess I’ve made.”
“Am I being unreasonable in my assumptions?” He finally looks Tooru in the eye. “You once said your biggest fear next to watching me die was being a father.”
“I’m not …” The alpha runs a rough hand through his hair. “It’s not that I hate children, alright? They’re ugly, and they’re noisy, and they’re dumb but—those aren’t the reasons why I don’t want to be a father, alright? Or should I say—not the main reason. It’s more complicated than that.”
“Complicated how?”
Playing with a lock of Shouyou’s hair, he says: “My mother wanted to be an architect. Being an omega doesn’t give you a lot of options in life, but when she was in her early twenties she was determined to work three jobs to put herself through university for it. She was from Middle Tokyo—if you could believe it—so it’s not like it would’ve been as hopeless as if she were born in Lower Tokyo, but it was still going to be an uphill battle.”
Shouyou relaxes. Tooru never talked about his parents in detail before. He only knows that they fought a lot.
“She met my dad. He was in a bikie gang—a rogue pack under Don Ushijima’s thumb.” The brunette rolls his eyes. “Guess you could say he was a ‘bad boy’ type—he did the trifecta of substance abuse: he smoked, he drank and he did drugs. Wasn’t brash or abusive though. He was pretty handsome—my dad—so he never had to try hard to get what he wanted because he could usually charm the pants off of anyone he came across.”
Shouyou quirks an eyebrow, a grin playing at his lips. “Why does that not surprise me? It’s true what they say: ‘The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree.’”
Tooru scowls. “I’m nothing like my father. Don’t even joke about that!”
Shrugging, Shouyou dismisses him. “If you say so.”
“Anyway, as I was saying, the situation was kind of the classic ‘good girl meets bad boy and bad boy turns good girl bad’; except it wasn’t like he got her hooked on drugs or alcohol or whatever. Really, their relationship was more of a ‘friends with benefits’ situation, a slice of excitement for my mum while in between exam studies; dad didn’t take the relationship too seriously either. They got along well, the sex was great and they had fun, what’s the harm, right?”
Shouyou taps Tooru on the tip of his nose. “She fell pregnant with you.”
He nods. “She did. It put an end to her studies, and when her parents found out they pressured her into marrying my dad—but it was probably also an excuse to get rid of her. They were pretty traditional and she’d already stepped on their toes when she decided to go off to university, so a marriage out of wedlock was what really pushed them over the edge.”
“Did you ever know your grandparents?”
Tooru shakes his head. “They never once visited, and anytime mum would call them it’d always end in tears.”
Sadness ebbs at Shouyou’s heart. It must’ve been so hard on all of them—on the mother who had dreams, on the father who wanted a life of thrill, and on the child who was never wanted. Being a routinely recycled foster child himself, he suffered the same strain of adversity. It’s a common thread that binds them together as strays, this cyclical combination of poverty, violence and neglect that forces prepubescents and adolescents out onto the gutters to fend for themselves.
“I never thought about it as a kid, but in retrospect, I think there was probably a time when my mum and dad were decent people. They had friends, and family, and they both had a yearning for certain things in life that drove them to make the decisions that they did.” Tooru frowns, eyes pensive with thought. “When I found out you were pregnant, I thought: ‘Oh god. What if what happened to my parents happens to me? What if I become the monster in my own child’s narrative, and I fuck them up so badly that twenty-five years down the line they’re gonna be freaking out because they got someone pregnant or—god forbid—they get pregnant?’ It wouldn’t be fair. Not to you, not to myself, and certainly not to the child.”
Cupping the sides of Tooru’s face, Shouyou presses a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Not wanting kids doesn’t make you a bad person, Tooru. I was fully prepared for us to grow old and childless, because I knew that I’d be happy either way. But you have to understand … I can’t in good conscience go through with having a back-alley abortion, even if the doctor has experience. The risks …”
Koushi’s story still keeps him up at night. A lot of the tragedies that befell his former packmate influence Shouyou’s decisions as an omega—it even led to him asking Tooru to mark him (though it wasn’t the only factor he took into consideration).
There’s also another part of him that thinks back to himself as a stray, before there was Kageyama, or Kei, or Tadashi, or Karasuno, back to the boy nobody wanted. If he were selfless, he’d give the baby up for adoption. But as a former foster child who never knew his real parents, and carries the burden of never knowing if he was loved or wanted, and left to wonder what they look like or how they act, he just can’t bring himself to do it.
He wants to be selfish. Isn’t he allowed that?
“I know. I’m just—I’m scared, Shouyou.” Tooru buries his face in Shouyou’s sea of red hair, inhaling deeply. “I’m a selfish man. I wanted to keep you in my bubble and hide you away. If we have a kid, I’ll have to share you, and I’ll have to share myself. It’s not an easy thing I can wrap my head around.”
Maybe that’s why they work so well together. They’re both selfish, just in different ways.
He chuckles at the thought, toying with the buttons on the brunette’s shirt. “There’s another thing you should probably be scared of.”
“Yeah? And what’s that?”
He looks up at him. “You have another reason to be afraid of dying, because if you’re gone, who will protect me and the baby?”
Tooru flicks him on the forehead. “Ow!”
“Was that really necessary? Isn’t my anxiety sufficiently maxed out at this point? Or would you have me die of a heart attack in this hotel room?”
Shouyou grins. “At least death gives you an out?”
The brunette scoffs, standing up and dumping the omega on the bed. “You’re not as funny as you think you are.”
“Really?” Shouyou rolls onto his stomach and swings his legs back and forth. “I think I’m pretty hilarious.”
A valid attempt to look annoyed is made. Tooru squares his shoulders, puts a hand on his waist and cocks his hip with the level of attitude he’s come to expect from the alpha, but it falls apart almost instantly at the sight of Shouyou’s grin. The rigid lines slacken in Tooru’s body, and he falls face-first onto the bed next to the omega. The ginger giggles, running a hand through his feather-soft locks.
“Give me some time.”
Shouyou blinks. The alpha looks up at him from behind his arm.
“Give me some time to warm up to the idea.”
He feels his heart swell to the size of a crater, and he swoops down to kiss him on the neck.
*
Kei didn’t really know what to think when Kuroo asked to meet him at a café around the corner from his apartment. The city, to put it simply, is in the toilet; alliances between the three territories are weaker than they’ve ever been; the government are scrambling to put out dumpster fires left, right and centre; and the media are tip-toeing around reports because they’re too fucking cowardly to make a few enemies. Walking into the mayor’s office is like walking into the belly of a dragon that has severe anxiety disorder.
Because of all of this, the gates separating the poor from the mildly rich from the filthy rich have become a massive pain to deal with, so rendezvous with Nekoma’s leader have been sparse.
Coming out of nowhere and announcing that he’s ‘in the neighbourhood’ strikes him as a tad suspicious. Kuroo isn’t as smooth as he likes to think he is.
Nevertheless, he agreed. Only because he would’ve been digitally harassed if he’d declined. People like Kuroo and Bokuto aren’t the kind of people who understand the concept of boundaries. Rejection is often met with bitching, and that bitching quickly devolves into whining, and then whining to more bitching and—you get the picture. It saves him a lot of grief just to let things happen and hope that next time he doesn’t open the message by accident, letting the other know that he’s seen it.
Kuroo is easy enough to spot, even in a disguise.
“You make a terrible brunette,” he says as he approaches the alpha, who’s in the middle of waiting for his coffee.
“Oya, oya? How’re you, handsome?” Kuroo turns around, eyebrows wiggling as he pulls him in for a kiss.
Kei shoves him. “Not in public, asshole.”
“Aw, don’t be shy! I know I’m unbelievably handsome, but you’re OK-looking as well!” Kei doesn’t appreciate the idiot’s smirk as he turns back to face the counter. “By the way, I brought you gift.”
He shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “I told you I hate gifts.”
“Hm, I have a feeling you might like this one.”
Kei can’t help but notice the other alpha accepting a tray of drinks instead of only one for himself, but before he can think to look around something solid collides with him. “What the—” he looks down, only to see a blonde little omega clinging to his waist. “Ew, what the fuck?”
The person grins up at him, and his jaw nearly drops. “It’s good to see you too, Kei!”
Aside from the hair—which he now realises is an obvious wig—and his colour contacts, the annoying tiny maggot suffocating his middle is unquestionably his former packmate and Biggest Nuisance: Hinata Shouyou. Kei can’t really agree that he likes this gift. He might not even say he tolerates it. Shame it doesn’t come with a receipt.
“When did I give you permission to start using my first name? Idiot.” He shakes the ginger off him before realising Kuroo has already abandoned him to the clutches of the omega. His eyes dart across the café to see him sitting at a booth.
“Would you rather I go back to calling you Shithead-shima?”
“Ugh—just go back to the table. Lemme order my drink and I’ll be there in a minute.”
In reality, Kei just needs some time to process. Fucking Kuroo, springing this one on him like it’s no big deal. A fair warning would’ve been nice—expected, even, given the circumstances. Even so, there’s a part of him that’s relieved. The omega looks … well. He looks healthy—as he should be. All the sacrifices their pack made to make sure Shouyou has a good life weren’t in vain.
It’s a shock though, a lightning bolt to the sense. They’d grown so far apart, pulled into the orbit of different worlds, only to collide once again in a café he gets bagels from every Wednesday morning.
Everyone in Karasuno had to make peace with the fact that they’d never see Shouyou again—not all of them succeeded, but he likes to think he was one of the few who did. So why does his voice quiver when he makes his order at the register? Why do his fingers tremble as he wraps them around the handle of his coffee?
As he approaches, Kuroo gets out of the booth and lets him sidle into the wall-side directly opposite Hinata. Oikawa Tooru—another face he didn’t think he’d see again—sits next to Hinata, and Iwaizumi Hajime is at the end of the table on his own chair.
Hinata looks at him like he’s seeing his mother’s face for the first time, and Kei stares right back, despite wanting to flinch away from his all too familiar grin. “We saw you on TV the other day. You looked so cool!”
He shrugs. “It’s not like I do anything. I just stand there.”
“Yes, but you were standing like a cool guy, you know? Like you couldn’t have a care in world.”
“Not really.”
Most people are put-off by his attitude, but not Hinata. The omega looks so happy his smile might just split his face in two. “I’m glad you’re still an asshole.”
He takes a slow sip of his coffee. “You should try it sometime. It takes much less effort than being cheerful.”
“If I was like you, you wouldn’t like me very much.”
“You seem to be implying that I like you how you are now.”
Oikawa, whom he completely forgot about for a second, throws an arm over Hinata’s shoulders and pokes his tongue out at him. Very mature for a twenty-six-year-old. “Aw, don’t listen to him, Shou-chan. He’s just jealous because everybody likes you.”
“Besides,” Kuroo rests his cheek in his palm, “you can’t ask Shou to change. Cheerful is embedded into his DNA.”
Kei smirks. He can’t help it. The opportunity is right there. “Ah yes, much like his stupidity.”
Hinata’s eyebrow twitches, and says with forced delight, “Careful there, Kei, too much salt in your diet will make your brain swell.”
“Oh really? You read that in a book, did you? Or are you mistaking it for the side effects listed on the back of your ADD medication?”
“Mean! So mean!” Oikawa whines, pulling Hinata against his sculpted chest. Kei watches this exchange critically.
“You two seem to be,” he frowns, “close.”
Oikawa glances at Kuroo, who gives a cursory shrug. “I should hope so,” he says slowly, “seeing as Shou-chan is my mate.”
Grinning, Hinata leans over the table and cranes his neck, showing off a silver bite mark. “Check it out!”
“Ugh. It’s just like you to jump head-long into a life-altering decision without giving it a second thought. Imagine what Sawamura would say—or Sugawara. They’d chew your ear off and tell you to sit in a corner and think about what you’ve done for the next year.”
The mention of their former packmates’ names brings a sombre look to the omega’s face, one that looks like it has no business being there. The magic of the reunion vanishes to make way for reality, and Hinata leans back in his seat.
“There’s something we need to discuss.”
“Important enough to come all the way from your cosy suite in Upper Tokyo? What’s wrong? Is your personal butler not tying your shoelaces the way you like it?” It comes out so harsh that he surprises even himself, but Hinata doesn’t seem bothered by his words, his gaze distant and detached.
“Daichi was recovered.” Kei bites the inside of his cheek, looking for any sign the omega might be joking. He’s not. “Nekoma found him in a crate, barely breathing. He’s—” Hinata takes a big breath “—he’s in a very bad way. He’s currently in Furusawa Hospital, in ICU.”
Snapping his head in Kuroo’s direction, his eyes narrow. “Why didn’t you contact me immediately?”
“It’s not me you should be hearing this from.” Kuroo taps his spoon against the rim of his mug. “Aside from being the one to actually recover Daichi, admit him to hospital, and then dealing with the emotional aftermath that’s left half my pack in therapy—on top of keeping Shou safe, I’ve been a little busy. So my apologies.”
“Kei.” His eyes slide back to Hinata, who suddenly looks very tired. “He’s going to die. They haven’t given him long to live.”
It’s news he doesn’t know how to take. Six months after Sawamura was taken away, he had to confront a very likely reality that he was probably left dead in a ditch somewhere. It was also around the time Hinata had been sent away, so morale was at an all-time low for the members of Karasuno.
Now that he’s learnt that Sawamura has been alive this whole time, he almost wishes he’d been left dead in a ditch.
When he doesn’t respond, Hinata continues, “He’s asked me to bring back his flock, so I’m on a mission to track down all the members of Karasuno and send them to see Daichi before he dies. You’re the first I’ve been able to track down—thanks to Tetsurou. I’m here to ask you to go see Daichi in hospital, and to stay with him until I find the rest of Karasuno.”
“Why don’t I just come with you? If we work together, we can find them together.”
Hinata’s shoulders drop in disappointment. “So you don’t know where they are?”
“Aside from Azumane, I was the only one who graduated from Kintsuru High.”
Hinata leans forward. “How is that even possible? What happened to the others?”
Kei rolls his eyes. “Haven’t you been paying attention at all? Don Tanaka negotiated to have Azumane, Noya and her brother transferred to her pack in exchange for territory, and then once she had them, she went back on her deal and refused to hand it over. That’s what started this whole thing between the East and South.”
“Actually …” Hinata looks away guiltily. “I haven’t been keeping up with what’s been going on in the world. It makes me anxious.”
“Choosing to stay naïve. How very you,” he sneers. “Well while you were busy with your head buried in the sand, Sugawara was banished to god knows where, Yamaguchi fucked off to Hawaii with Yachi in their second-year, and Kageyama ran away before his third-year exams, effectively leaving me behind to deal with Shiratorizawa all by myself. Where any of them are now, who knows? Your guess is as good as mine.”
Hinata sits there, speechless for once. If he knew this would turn him mute, he would’ve tried getting in contact with him a long time ago.
“So you really have no clue where any of them are?” Oikawa asks sceptically. “Like, at all?”
Kei scowls. “Have you been following the news lately? Can’t seem to get through my daily routine without hearing some mention of the masked vigilante. Funny how he’s able to apprehend thugs without brandishing a single weapon. Sounds less like a badass renegade and more like a big softy who gets bogged down in his own morals.”
Iwaizumi quirks an eyebrow. “You mean ‘The Nightcrawler’?”
He scoffs. “Is there another vigilante I might be alluding to?”
“So you think it’s Sugawara?” Hinata asks, perking up in his seat.
“No, idiot. Does that sound like something Sugawara would do?” Kei shakes his head. He can’t believe he has to spell it out for him—wait no, actually he can believe it. “I can’t tell you with one-hundred percent certainty, but all I can say is: when Kageyama vanished, the vigilante appeared. Whether you think that’s a coincidence or not is up to you.”
Hinata takes his time processing the information. Then he asks, “Then where’s Sugawara?”
“Like I said, I don’t know. ‘Ushijima sent him away’ is how Tendou phrased it.”
“But why?”
His fingers twitch irritably. “I don’t know. Stop assuming I have all the answers.”
“But you should have all the answers!” The omega bursts. “Unlike me you were actually there! How could you not know any concrete details on their whereabouts? How come Tadashi never told you where he was going or why? How come Kageyama dropped out without warning and didn’t even bother to contact you? How can you accept Koushi being ‘sent away’ and not think to look further into that?”
“Hinata.” He pins his former packmate with a deadly look. “It’s as you said: you weren’t there. I’m not going to help you if all you’re going to do is point fingers at me.”
The cutlery and glasses clatter when Hinata’s fist hits the table. “Daichi is dying, Kei! I have five months to reunite Karasuno—if Daichi even lasts that long—so I’m sorry if I’m being a little pushy!”
“Well if we find them together—”
“No, you’re not coming with me.”
Kei almost can’t believe Hinata thinks he has a say it. “Of course I’m coming with you, they’re my pack too. Besides, I could hardly allow you to go running around the city pregnant with a bounty over your head.”
Everyone at the table splutters. Hinata gapes. “How—”
Kuroo throws his hands up. “Oika’a, I swear didn’t tell him!”
Kei rolls his eyes. He’s surrounded by idiots. “Clearly none of you have been around pregnant omegas before. There’s a woman I work with who’s pregnant. They have a distinctly sweet scent—it’s impossible to ignore once you know what it is.”
The alphas regard Hinata thoughtfully. Oikawa scratches his chin. “You have been smelling a little different lately.”
Hinata pouts at his mate. “How come you never said anything?”
“Your scent is already disgustingly sweet,” Tsukishima provides. “That’s probably why nobody noticed.”
“Huh. Actually now that you mention it, I’ve never been around a pregnant omega before,” Kuroo says thoughtfully.
Taking another sip of his coffee, he says, “That’s because most rogue omegas have the sense not to get pregnant.”
Hinata’s face goes bright red. “It’s not like I chose to get pregnant, Shithead!”
“You could’ve not had sex.”
“Celibacy is for bitter people like you who can’t get any!”
Kuroo throws an arm over the back of the seat cushion. “Gonna have to disagree with you there, Shou. Kei is very good at channelling that bitterness in the bedroom.”
Iwaizumi makes a face. “I could’ve lived without hearing that information.”
“We’re getting off topic,” Oikawa reminds Hinata, and the omega nods.
“Right. You can’t come with us. Daichi is alone in hospital and he needs you by his side.”
Kei places his cup down on the saucer. “Here’s an idea: how about you go stay by Daichi’s side like a good little omega, and let me track down the others.”
“Because Daichi asked me to do it!” Hinata snaps. “You also don’t understand just how radioactive I am right now. Wherever I go, I’m in danger, and Daichi’s hospital room is the place people will go looking for me. It’s also why we can’t do this together—even associating with me puts you at risk!”
“You’re right,” he glares at Kuroo, who throws his hands up innocently, “even being here in this café puts my life on the line. A simple phone call would’ve sufficed. I really appreciate how little my safety means to you guys. And just so you know, if you took a moment to reflect, you’d realise that you’ve always been radioactive,” Tsukishima mutters, leaning back in his seat. “But fine, I’ll do whatever. Just stay away from me.”
“So you’ll go see Daichi?” Hinata presses.
“Yes—alright? Get my number from Kuroo and we’ll keep in contact. Now, can I leave?”
Hinata bites down on his bottom lip, and finally nods. Kuroo gets out of the booth so he can leave, but not before shouting: “We still on for dinner on Thursday?”
Kei rolls his eyes and doesn’t bother answering, speed-walking out of the café and going straight home.
Chapter 28: Koushi
Chapter Text
Gentle lines were drawn into his bare flesh by delicate fingertips. Warmth radiated from the body wrapped around him, and he embraced the pull easing him into a promising slumber.
“Oikawa-san?”
The back of his knuckles grazed the small of Hinata’s back. “Hm?”
“Will you tell the me what happened between your pack and Kageyama? You keep avoiding it …”
Tooru’s eyes cracked open to glare at the mop of apricot curls tucked against his shoulder. “Why’d you have to go and mention his name?” he whined, tugging at a lock of Hinata’s hair. “I won’t be able to get it up again now.”
Hinata snuggled further against him, tangling their legs together. “I had a dream last night. We were kids again, back out on the streets. We were so hungry, and Kageyama was yelling at me to take his food, but when I accepted it the food turned to salt and made the puddles of rain black.”
Tooru didn’t really know how to grapple with the fact that Hinata was thinking about Kageyama, of all people. Especially since they’d just had sex.
“It was just a dream,” he brushed off.
“But it felt real.” Hinata blinked up at him with those pitifully large eyes. “We looked out for each other, the two of us. He had no reason to care about me but he did. He always made sure that I’d eaten—even when he was in pain ‘cuz he was so hungry. I just need to know why you’d do that to him … why you’d condemn him to a life of hunger …”
Tooru sighed. All he wanted was to bask in post-coital bliss and cuddle with a cute omega. Why was life never that simple? “Fine, you want to know so bad? I’ll tell you.”
A smile poked the edges of Hinata’s sweet mouth. If he weren’t so annoyed he’d kiss him senseless. He adjusted to get more comfortable.
“Tobio-chan was just one of the many strays we’d recruited around that time. It was pretty easy—we were already stationed in Middle Tokyo, and most strays would kill for the opportunity to live there.
“He came across as cute and maybe even sweet at first, so much so that I even felt a little guilty for dragging him into the theatrics of the underground. But things turned sour soon after he officially became a member of the pack. He was ambitious, little Tobio-chan, and often put himself before others. He thought the rest of the pack were beneath him. The only people he ever showed a smidge of respect for were myself and Iwa-chan; everyone else was as good as dirt.”
He expected the ginger to jump in, as he does when listening to stories, but he kept quiet. If there was a comment in defence of Kageyama on the tip of Hinata’s tongue, he didn’t say it.
Tooru continued: “A pack is supposed to work together. They don’t necessarily have to be all chummy like you crows were, but it has to be functional. A pack that cannot work together is about as useful as a flat spoon. The other recruits got along well. They were open to teamwork and criticism, but Tobio-chan made things difficult at every turn. It was getting to the point where it was starting to seriously upset the other members, so Iwa-chan, me, and the rest of the older members decided to have a chat about what do with him.
“Nothing was confirmed,” he emphasised, “but Makki suggested we allow a different pack to foster him for a while to see if he’d get along better with them. No one even entertained kicking Tobio-chan out into the streets—I’d never allow for that to happen.”
He sighed, tracing his fingers up and down the length of Hinata’s spine. “But we’d been careless. We didn’t know little Tobio-chan had been listening in on the conversation, and the next day we’d awoke to find his bed empty and a note telling us how much he hated us and wish we’d all die.
“We looked for weeks, searching day and night throughout Middle Tokyo. We even snuck into East and West to see if we’d find him there, but there was no trace of him. Not even the guards at the gates to Lower or Upper Tokyo had seen a boy fitting Tobio-chan’s description. It’s as if he’d disappeared into thin air.”
A coy grin played on Hinata’s lips, and Tooru leaned back to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him. Of all the reactions he’d expected from the ginger, amusement wasn’t one of them. “What’re you smiling about?”
“I dunno. It’s just—I can’t help but wonder how he ended up in Lower Tokyo, y’know? The day he ran away was the same day he met me. Isn’t it strange? How our lives can be so interconnected …” The omega reached up to cup the side of Tooru’s face. “From the way Kageyama described your pack, I thought you’d be the scum of the earth—the worst this city spat out—but here I am, in your arms. I wonder what Kageyama would say.”
Tooru snorted. “If Kageyama somehow found out about us, he’d throw himself into the ocean and let the waves carry him out to a deserted island.”
Hinata rolled his eyes. “You say that like it’s a joke, but I wouldn’t put it passed him.”
“No,” Tooru chuckled, “I guess not.” But the smile is gone just as quickly as it was there. “I do feel some guilt still—for how it went down with Tobio-chan. The boy never seemed to enjoy being a part of our pack, showed no interest in getting along with the others, so I thought an alternative was the best option for him but … In hindsight, I can’t help but feel like I failed him. If I’d been more attentive, been more affectionate …”
“There’s still time to make amends.” Hinata pecked him on the jaw. “You’ve charmed your way out of tougher situations.”
*
They return to the hotel to find Kenma immersed in his work. The lights are out in his room, his sharp face illuminated by his laptop screen. Surrounding him are scattered papers and scribbled notes so incoherent a doctor wouldn’t be able to decipher them. Shouyou places his hand on his friend’s shoulder and the omega tenses briefly before realising he’s no longer alone.
“How did your reunion go with the tall crow?” Kenma asks disinterestedly, turning back to his work, fingers tapping away at lightning speed across his keyboard.
“It could’ve gone better,” Shouyou’s face falls, resting on the edge of the bed.
Tetsurou yawns, stretching his arms above his head as he disappears into the ensuite. “Don’t let Kei’s attitude get to you. Knowing him, he was probably caught off guard. It’s my fault I didn’t warn him you were going to be there.”
Hugging a knee to his chin, Shouyou pouts. “Doubt he would’ve shown up if that were the case. He didn’t look too thrilled to see me.”
“Kei? Thrilled? You sure you used to be from the same pack?” Tetsurou pokes his head out from behind the door. “He’s just got a funny way of expressing himself. Guarantee he’ll call or text you before the day is out—else I’ll shout everyone dinner tomorrow.”
“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Iwaizumi says, kicking his feet up on the desk.
Tooru settles next to Shouyou and pets him on the head. “I know the day’s still young, but if you want to take a breather and relax, no one will stop you. It must be so hard for you to see your packmate again after all this time.”
Shouyou shakes his head, avoiding the weight of Tooru’s loving gaze. “There’s no time for rest. Daichi’s counting on me.”
“Think you’re also forgetting a tiny little detail growing in your tummy, Shou.” A bottle of water comes into his line of sight, and he looks up to see Tetsurou smirking down at him. Condensation wets his palm as he accepts it. Nekoma’s leader sits down on his other side, poking him in the ribs. “It’s only been a few days since we began the search and we already got one crow down. How many we got left—six? Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
The incessant tapping pauses, and Shouyou feels something nudge his back. Kenma serves him a bunch of documents that have been meticulously put together. “I got access to student files from Kintsuru High and Kanawashi University and had them printed off at a place down the street from here. I’ve organised each of their school records into documents, and highlighted information that may be of interest.”
Tooru reaches over to turn on a lamp and Kenma squint-glares as if the light had just insulted his birth mother. Mumbling a small thank you for his friend’s hard work, Shouyou opens the document at the top of the pile—Asahi’s.
“The big crow,” Kenma mutters, peering over his shoulder before once again immersing himself in whatever’s on his laptop. “He completed a year of his bio-med degree before dropping out. A reason wasn’t listed in the records.”
“That’s consistent with what Tsukishima told us,” Iwaizumi says from his place by the desk. “He would’ve been at university for roughly a year before The Gathering of the Tides, which is when he was transferred East along with the other two he mentioned.”
“Yuu and Ryuu,” Shouyou says under his breath, pulling out their files. “Were any of you there when Wakatoshi traded them to Don Tanaka? I don’t remember Bokuto mentioning anything significant about the meeting that took place the year after I joined Fukuroudani.”
Tetsurou shrugs. “It certainly wasn’t as eventful as when you were traded, that’s for sure. Everything was pretty standard—Don Tanaka proposed the deal because she wanted to get her brother and the rest of Karasuno out of an awkward situation, but Wakatoshi would only give her those three. He wouldn’t budge on Kei and the grumpy one.”
His eyebrows knit together. “The grumpy one? Wait—you mean Kageyama, right? But what about Koushi and Tadashi? Were they there too? Do you remember?”
The rooster-haired alpha shakes his head. “I would’ve remembered if Koushi was there, and according to Kei, that Yamaguchi kid ran away in his second-year, so he couldn’t have been at that meeting.”
The paper feels fresh beneath his fingers as they glide down the page, eyes skimming over the information Kenma has highlighted on Yuu’s record. “It says here that Yuu was kicked out of school alongside Ryuunosuke due to a number of complaints made by parents and students. I can’t say much for Ryuu, but I know Wakatoshi had big plans for Yuu’s future. Flunking out of high school must’ve really pissed him off.”
Tooru crosses his arms with a huff. “If there’s one thing we know about Ushiwaka, it’s that he has no patience for people who’ve outlived their used-by date. He probably traded off Azumane and the others because they were more trouble than they were worth.”
“And he kept Kei and Kageyama because he still had plans for them,” Shouyou concludes, closing the document in his lap.
“Well then our next course is obvious, isn’t it?” Iwaizumi leans back on the hind legs of his chair, toying with a pen between his fingers. “We just gotta somehow get in contact with Don Tanaka. We might not even need to meet with the crows personally, all we gotta do is relay a message letting them know the situation—it’ll be safer and it’ll save us a lot of time.”
“Ah yes, because getting in contact with a Don is just that easy.” Tooru rolls his eyes. “Particularly a Don none of us are personally associated with. I’m sure it’s as easy as looking up her number in a phone book.”
“We’ll deal with that later.” Shouyou puts aside the documents. “I trust Don Tanaka to be taking good care of her brother and his packmates; my first priority is to find Koushi. I’m worried Wakatoshi is keeping him locked up just like he did with Daichi.”
“What do you propose?” Kenma asks.
Shouyou stands up and paces, his bottom lip pinched between his teeth. “If Kei doesn’t know where Koushi is, then I doubt anyone else in Karasuno would either. There’s only one option I can think of, and that’s going directly to the source. Only members of Shiratorizawa are privy to Wakatoshi’s secrets.”
“Shou-chan,” Tooru frowns, “you’re not seriously suggestion what I think you’re suggesting …”
He stops his pacing to turn to his team, folding his arms over his chest. “I am. We’re going to kidnap and interrogate a member of Shiratorizawa.”
*
Kenma’s eyes slide back to the yawning entrance leading to the western bridge. Upper Tokyoites mill about them carrying shopping bags, some tugging along well-dressed children and others giggling to their zealous companions. Kuro faces him on the chair diagonal to him, half-heartedly leafing through a book he brought along with him.
“Isn’t fencing a little too close contact for your style?” Kenma asks indifferently.
Kuro sniffs. “When I was a boy, there was a family who lived in an apartment on the bottom floor of a complex near the alley where I used to sleep. Every Friday they’d watch movies—I used to watch it through their window. They watched one about pirates, and since then, I always dreamed of getting into a sword fight with a pirate.”
He blows a strand of black hair out of his face. “You know, when I asked, I wasn’t expecting your life’s story.”
His leader pouts. “Then don’t ask.”
“Kenma, do you copy?”
Rolling his eyes, he smooths a finger along the plastic of the receiver in his ear. “Yes, Shouyou. You don’t have to say that every time you want my attention.”
“Sorry,” Shouyou responds sheepishly. “Have you seen anything yet?”
He sighs. “No, nothing.”
“Oh.”
It’s the third week since they’ve staked out the entrances to the western bridges. Today, he and Kuro are staking out level 135—the retail district and closest bridge from where Shiratorizawa are located. Shouyou and Oikawa are five levels above, Iwaizumi five levels below, all with the bridges in their lines of sight in case Shiratorizawa are changing things up a little.
So far, they’ve had no sightings of any of the members.
“Are we certain they haven’t moved apartments since you left?” Kuro asks, clearly bored with the content of his book. Guess the rules of fencing aren’t as thrilling as the expectations the alpha had built up in his head.
“How should I know? Kei didn’t mention anything about it.”
“Kei hasn’t lived with them since he graduated high school.”
“We’re in the middle of a gang war,” Kenma reminds him. “They’re all probably on high alert. Finding one of them out in the wild was going to be a gamble regardless.”
“We can’t continue to waste time,” Iwaizumi says. “There has to be another way to bait them into showing themselves.”
There’s silence, and then Shouyou says: “I have an idea.”
A week later Kenma finds himself where he’s at his most comfortable: behind the safety of a computer screen. Voices hum in his ear as his eyes sweep across the surveillance cameras in the restaurant and in the foyer. His hotkeys are wired to specified locations: the entrance to the foyer, the entrances and exits to the restaurant, elevators located on the level and the stairwells leading to other levels. In the top left-hand corner of his screen are also visuals of the people he has to keep an eye on.
Mr Setoguchi, Shouyou’s associate and unwilling participant in the ginger’s scheme, sits dabbing a handkerchief to his forehead as he sits alone at a table for two. At another table, immersed in their disguises, are Shouyou and Oikawa (‘pretending’ to be lovey-dovey but are a little too convincing in their roles), while Kuro and Iwaizumi sit at the bar with chilled pints in their hands (pretending to have an interest in the baseball game on TV).
The balding councilman checks his wristwatch. “The guy’s late. There’s no way Ushijima will fall for this. I told you already, ginger, I’m supposed to be half-way to the Bahamas by now.”
“I wouldn’t be too worried,” Shouyou’s sickeningly sweet voice chimes through the receiver as he wipes a crumble from the corner of Oikawa’s mouth. “Someone’ll come. The opportunity’s too juicy to pass up.”
Since fishing for Shiratorizawa by chance wasn’t proving effective, they set up their own bait to try and trap them. It’s a risky move. They’re banking on only one or two members showing up, but if Wakatoshi gets a whiff of something fishy, he could potentially send reinforcements—reinforcements they won’t be able to handle with only the five of them.
According to Shouyou, though, Mr Setoguchi is just another small fry in Shiratorizawa’s bottomless pond of associates. Even if they have a taste of suspicion it’s not like they’ll see the fat man as anything more than what he is.
“How’re things on your end?” Kuro asks, swiping the beer froth from his upper lip.
“Nothing out of the ordinary,” Kenma replies, tapping through the cameras, his eyes sweeping across the dozens upon dozens of faces, searching for a glimpse of familiarity. Then he pauses, finger hovering over the spacebar. “Hm. I think I see Semi Eita entering the foyer from the western entrance.”
He enhances the live footage, and sure enough the alpha can be seen heading in the restaurant’s direction. “It’s definitely Semi Eita. Prepare yourselves.”
“Oh sweet lord.” Mr Setoguchi’s heavy breathing dominates the receiver. “What do I say to him again? I can’t feel my face!”
“Calm down.” Iwaizumi’s steady voice is easier on the ears. “Remember what we prepped you for and you’ll do just fine.”
“But what if he can tell I’m lying? I don’t do well under pressure!”
“You worked for Ushiwaka for years,” Oikawa growls. “Don’t do well under pressure my ass! Fuck this up and whatever outcome you’re playing out in your head right now—I’ll be sure to deliver that to you ten times worse. I’m talking inside-out anus and needles sticking out of your thumbs—the works!”
Semi Eita adjusts his tie as he settles into the seat opposite Mr Setoguchi, his eyes sweeping across the restaurant. If he suspects anything, his face reveals nothing.
“The information you have for me better be worth it.” The microphone they’d planted in the mini lamp picks up on Semi’s voice. “Leaving the apartment these days is like navigating a fucking minefield.”
“Thank you for agreeing to meet me in person,” Mr Setoguchi stutters. “It may be a bit farfetched but—ever since that run-in with those West Side rats I can’t help but be a little paranoid, you know? That ginger bitch could’ve bugged my phone or something while I wasn’t looking.”
Semi exhales through the nose. “Don’t flatter yourself. What do you have that West Side could possibly want? Surprised you didn’t expire from Ushijima’s list a long time ago.”
“Y-Yes, well … I suppose.”
The two go back and forth for a bit, nothing that Kenma would consider interesting. The only thing he thinks is noteworthy is that Semi doesn’t seem know too much about Mr Setoguchi’s last encounter with Shouyou and Oikawa. From how it sounds, he seems to be under the impression that they were at the same place at the same time by pure happen-stance.
Mr Setoguchi orders a bottle of wine. Semi asks for water. No entrees or mains.
“Enough chit-chat. What’s this information that you have for me? And you better think real hard about whether it’s even worth my time, else I might consider throwing you off a balcony.”
“I-It’s worth it, I swear!”
Semi leans back in his seat, the corners of his lips pulling. “Then spit it out.”
“That omega Ushijima’s so interested in—Hinata Shouyou—he’s pregnant. I smelt it on him.”
The blonde alpha reels back like he’s been slapped, but the shock only lasts a second before it twists into a vicious glare. “Don’t you fucking lie to me.”
“It’s not a lie!” Mr Setoguchi insists, then lowers his voice. “My wife’s been pregnant three times—omegas, they got this strange sugary undertone to their scents when they’re carrying. I smelt it on the ginger—I swear it on my life!”
“No,” a dangerous glint passes across Semi’s eyes, “swear it on your family’s life, Takuma. Swear it on every person you’ve ever spoken to, because if this information is wrong, I’ll be sure to pick them off one by one before I get my hands on you.”
Mr Setoguchi whimpers. “I wouldn’t have gone to the trouble if I wasn’t one-hundred percent certain! Please!”
Semi stands up. “Give me five minutes. I need to make a phone call.”
The balding man breathes a big sigh of relief as he watches Semi stalk away towards the bathrooms. When Semi is out of sight, their team move, but Kenma yells: “Wait!”
The four immediately freeze, half-standing in their seats, and Kenma’s fingers flicker across his keyboard as he switches the camera feed. “Someone’s just gotten up to follow Semi to the bathroom.”
“What?” four voices snap in his ear.
“I think it’s someone we know.”
“You ‘think’?” Iwaizumi echoes impatiently.
“They’re in disguise.”
“Who do you think it is?” Shouyou asks.
Kenma blinks, questioning whether his mind is playing tricks on him. “He looks like Bokuto’s idiot bodyguard.”
“Atsumu?” Hinata clarifies.
“Yes.”
“You’re probably just imagining things,” Kuro says.
He frowns. “I’m not.”
“But it can’t be Atsumu! Why the hell would he be here?”
“You tell me.”
“It’s not Atsumu.” Realisation dawns Shouyou’s face, his gaze meeting with Oikawa’s from across the table. “It could be his twin brother, Osamu.”
*
Iwaizumi’s protests crackle in Shouyou’s ear as he weaves through the tables and chairs. He can sense Tooru close at his heels as he rounds the corner, picking up speed when he hears noises coming from the alpha bathrooms.
“Hinata, the plan’s been compromised! We need to retreat!”
“We can’t afford to waste any more time. This could be our only shot!”
Without hesitation, he throws himself through the door, coming upon a scene of two alphas struggling on the tiled floor. A cell phone lies near them, having been dropped in the struggle. The brunette man on top of Eita has a gun drawn, but the other alpha has a hand on his wrist, keeping the weapon at a distance.
“Oi! Osamu!” The brunette snaps his head up, and the spitting image of Atsumu stares back at him. The moment of shock is enough for Eita to throw Osamu off, flipping them over so that he’s the one on top.
“You East Side pig!” Semi snarls. “Did Takuma put you up to this, huh? Did he get you to lure me out here with some bullshit about Hinata Shouyou?”
Seizing the opportunity, Shouyou snatches the gun from Osamu’s lax hand and presses it against Semi’s temple. Both alphas still. Slowly, Eita looks up into Shouyou’s eyes. It doesn’t take very long for him to realise who exactly he’s staring at.
“Even after all these years,” the blonde growls, “you’re still a pain in my ass.”
“Hands behind your back and stand up slowly.”
Eita sneers. “You take me for an idiot? I know you don’t use guns. That Karasuno cowardice is rooted itself deep inside you, just like all the others.”
He snaps the safety off the gun, never wavering. “It’s been a long time since you’ve seen me, Eita. I’m not the little omega you used to drag around like a ragdoll.”
Conflict flickers in Eita’s eyes as he determines whether or not Shouyou is bluffing. To Shouyou’s credit, he schools his features as best he can, but in the end it’s the quiet tremble of the gun that gives him away. Knocking the gun off-course, Eita lunges for him. But Shouyou is faster. Stepping to the side, he narrowly misses the alpha’s clutches, and the older man goes face-first into the underside of a porcelain sink. Groans of pain echo against the tiles as Eita clutches his face, and Shouyou takes out the clip and tosses the gun in the trash. Tooru snatches up Eita’s phone and helps Osamu off the floor as Shouyou wrestles Semi’s wrists into zip-ties.
“Oikawa? Tha’ you?” Osamu asks in his country dialect, patting down his clothes.
“Been awhile,” Tooru responds with that fake warmth he always uses around people he doesn’t know very well. Atsumu may be a friend, but his brother is as good as a stranger to West Side.
“Since the gatherin’ four years ago.” Osamu nods, his eyes drifting to Shouyou and Eita. “Thought ya’d gone AWOL with the lil’ firecracker over there. Whatcha doin’ here?”
“Could say the same for you.”
It’s at this moment Tetsurou and Iwaizumi choose to appear, their clothes and wigs dishevelled and their faces panicked.
Resting his feet on the small of Eita’s back, Shouyou grins. “Late to the party as usual, Tetsurou!”
“Kuroo? And—who’s that? Iwaizumi is it?” The confusion only deepens on Osamu’s face as his gaze darts from one man to the next. “What’s going on here? Why’re you all here?”
Tooru huffs, folding his arms over his chest. “If you must know, we were on a mission to get Shiratorizawa out in the open so we could kidnap and interrogate one of them on the whereabouts of a person of interest. And it was going just fine until you made appearance, Miya.”
Sniffing, the twin replies: “Well ya coulda let East know about it beforehand.”
“East aren’t privy to Western matters, no more than West are to the East,” Iwaizumi says as he crosses the threshold to yank Eita to his feet. “Given the circumstances, I assume you were here to either kill Semi or abduct him yourself. Since we’re on a bit of a time crunch, how about we make a deal so that everybody walks away from this happy? Well—” he slaps Eita on the shoulder “—except our friend Semi here, but there’s nothing we can do about that.”
“I’m listenin’,” Osamu drawls.
“We need Semi for information,” Iwaizumi continues.
“You’re not getting it!” Eita snarls.
Iwaizumi shoves Eita against the wall, a warning grip at the back of his neck. “As I was saying—we need him for information—shit only someone from Shiratorizawa would know about. You let us take him for interrogation, and once we’ve got what we need from him, we’ll hand him off to you.”
“And how can I trust you’ll do tha’?”
“We’ll be needing something from your Don sometime in the near future. Think of it as a show of good faith that we aren’t here to stir up trouble for East Side.”
The Miya twin takes a moment to mull things over, but the frown he’s sporting soon smoothens out, and the worried quirk in his lip dissipates. Shouyou has heard through the grapevine that Osamu is the more perceptive and calculated twin, so it stands to reason that he would come to the same conclusion they have. Even if Osamu disagreed, he’ll still be walking away from this empty-handed.
Exhaling through the nose, Osamu pulls out his phone. “Lemme give ya my number then. If ya have business with Lady Don, yer better off goin’ through me.”
They take the stairwell down a couple levels and then pull Eita into an empty elevator taking them to the first floor. Their team flank him at all sides, so that his restraints can’t be easily spotted, and Eita for his part doesn’t make a scene. Because while the alpha can see through Shouyou’s façade of violence, the same can’t be said for the men accompanying him. In fact, Shouyou’s certain that no one on this earth would take more joy in killing a member of Shiratorizawa than Oikawa Tooru, who at this moment has a gun nestled against Eita’s ribs.
Shuffling through the Upper Tokyo entrance into Heaven’s Stair, they escape scrutiny on their way up to their floor. Iwaizumi’s room was chosen as Eita’s place of captivity. Tetsurou and Iwaizumi bind him to a chair as Shouyou goes to splash his face in the bathroom.
Rivulets travel down his cheeks as he leans over the sink, breathing heavily.
“How are you?”
He looks up to see Kenma standing in the doorway, his catlike eyes appraising him.
Patting his face with a towel, he forces a smile. “Fine.”
Kenma gives a small ‘hn’. “You can’t fool me, Shouyou.”
“No,” he snorts, “I guess I can’t.”
“They won’t let him hurt you, you know.” The omega leans his weight against the door. “You’ll be safe the entire interrogation.”
“I know that.”
“You could let me and the alphas handle it,” Kenma suggests. “You don’t necessarily have to be present if you’re uncomfortable.”
“I’m fine. Just got a little morning sickness is all.” Ouch. Yes, Kenma can tell when he’s lying, but he could’ve at least put a little more effort into that one.
Kenma blinks. “It’s almost eleven at night. Besides, you’re too far in now for morning sickness.”
Hinata blinks back. “I am?”
“It usually stops three months in. You’re on your fourth.”
He scowls. “Since when did you know so much about pregnancy?”
“Since my best friend got pregnant,” Kenma states the obvious, and Shouyou immediately feels like an idiot.
“Oh.”
“So, do you want me to tell Kuro and the others you don’t want to be a part of the interrogation?”
It’s not easy seeing the members of Shiratorizawa again. Tooru chases away the night terrors, but the fear lingers. He’s feared the day he’d have to confront Shiratorizawa again, knowing their leader wishes to condemn him to his own curated version of hell. The unspeakable unknown haunting him in the dark, the sweat prickling the back of his neck at the mere mention of Wakatoshi’s name.
For years he’s been calling the members of Shiratorizawa by their first names, as if doing so banishes away the mysticism surrounding their pack.
But in the end, it means nothing. The fear remains, alive and well.
“I’ll excuse myself if it gets too much,” Shouyou decides, taking a decisive breath in and out. He wrings the towel in his hands. “They shouldn’t be allowed to have that much power over me, not after the damage they’ve caused.”
“I already told you,” Eita snaps at Iwaizumi as Shouyou re-enters the bedroom, Kenma trailing after him, “I’m not telling you shit.”
Tetsurou grabs a chunk of Eita’s hair and jerks his head back, his grin almost scary. “What d’you say we pull his wisdoms out and shave his jawbone down, see how he likes it, eh Shou?”
Calmly, Shouyou drags a chair in front of the bound alpha, unperturbed by his hateful gaze. “Let’s not resort to violence just yet. I want to talk to him first.”
“You’re being too generous,” Tooru growls, eyeing Eita’s kneecaps like he’d very much like to put holes in them. “He wouldn’t afford you the same mercy if the roles were reversed—he probably even took part in some of Daichi’s torture.”
His gut twists. “Well thank goodness we’re not Shiratorizawa.”
“Then why—”
“Tooru, please.”
Tooru concedes easily, throwing his hands up and leaning against the back wall. Tetsurou releases Eita with a shrug.
Eita eyes the alphas around him before they eventually settle on Shouyou. His nose twitches, and he leans forward to sniff the air. “So Mr Setoguchi wasn’t lying then. You are with child.”
“Yes.”
Craning his neck to look at the alpha behind him, he asks, “Is it Oikawa’s?”
Tooru scowls. “Don’t play dumb. We know you know I’m his mate.”
Eita shrugs. “A mark never stopped a bitch from sleeping with other alphas.”
Kenjirou and Tsutomu immediately come to mind, and Shouyou swallows down any bitter retorts he has searing the tip of his tongue. Instead he leans forward, eyes pleading with the man. “Have you seen the state Daichi is in? Did you take part in his torture?”
Eita shifts uncomfortably, avoiding eye-contact. “A couple beatings in the beginning. Nothing too fancy.”
The fact that Eita didn’t take part in the dismemberment and mutilation of his ex-leader doesn’t give him any peace of mind. “When was the last time you saw him?”
“It’s been years. All I know is that Ushijima left Sawamura in the hands of men who knew how to keep him on the brink of death for as long as they saw fit.”
Oxygen leaves Shouyou’s lungs and he runs a hand through his hair. Sweat wets the back of his neck, and the tips of his toes prickle uncomfortably. He takes a moment to re-centre himself in the moment, focusing intently on the floor lamp over Eita’s right shoulder, the varnish of its wood and the rustic pattern of its shade.
“I see Don Bokuto hasn’t been doing a very good job keeping you in check.”
His eyes snap back into focus. Emotion climbs into the base of his throat and he has to grip the chair to stop himself from lunging. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“As your handler, my job was to make sure that you wouldn’t get yourself marked or pregnant. Now look at you.” Eita’s eyes linger at the mark on his neck, then settle on his barely showing baby bump. “Can’t believe he gave up Akahana only for you to be tainted and bred like a common prostitute.” The sincere backhand has Shouyou flinching.
It’d be easy to rise to the bait. Terribly easy. But he’d be playing right into Eita’s trap, and that’s not what he set out to achieve. The power is in his hands, and he has to keep it that way. There’s movement from behind Eita, and Shouyou pins Tooru with a look to stop him from interfering.
“Life isn’t always in our control,” Shouyou says calmly. “The mark was planned, the baby was not, that doesn’t make me any less of a person—no matter how hard you or the rest of Shiratorizawa tried to convince me otherwise.”
The alpha shakes his head. “You’re making a grave mistake, keeping that. Children born from rogues are destined for disaster, but a child of your ilk? It’ll never know peace or safety or warmth. If you even manage to give birth before Ushijima gets his hands on you, the child will be orphaned before too long.”
“The Dons go on to have families.”
“You are not a Don, Hinata. You’re an ornament of status for a Don. That’s what you’ve been since you Presented, and that’s all you’ll ever be.” Eita snorts. “You could’ve at least had the sense to breed with a Don than settle for Oikawa of all alphas. The man will hop on a plane to Korea the moment he hears you’ve gone into a labour, and you’ll never hear from him again. That’s the kind of alpha he is.”
Shouyou takes a big breath, forcing himself to relax in his seat. Tooru is very tempted to say something. He can see it in the way his mouth coils and thins. Holding back retorts isn’t one of Tooru’s fortes. But Tooru somehow manages, reassuring Shouyou that his mate trusts he can handle the situation himself.
“I don’t really care what you think of my choice in alphas, Eita. We want to know where Koushi is.”
Eita doesn’t look surprised. “I figured you’d go looking for him. You were his favourite little crow. The way he mothered you disgusted me.”
“Where is he?” Shouyou reiterates.
“Give me a reason why I should tell you.”
Iwaizumi and Tetsurou twitch, as if ready to make an example of him, but Shouyou holds up a hand to halt them in place. He places a delicate hand on Eita’s arm, their faces inches apart. “Daichi’s on his deathbed. Koushi has a right to see him before he passes.”
Eita might’ve looked unaffected by the news, if not for the fact that he refused to look Shouyou in the eye. “I don’t see why. They’re not mates. He belongs to Ushijima.”
“Legally maybe, but Wakatoshi is no more of a mate to Koushi than he was to either Kenjirou or Tsutomu—if even to that extent. Koushi was a means to an end, an end I’m sure Ushijima realises by now is out of the question.” There’s just the barest of hint of knowing that seeps into Eita mien, enough to tell Shouyou that he’s hit the nail on the head. “So he knows. I never understood why Koushi didn’t just come out with the truth before Wakatoshi ever got it in his head that they should be mates. What did he do when he found out? Is that why Koushi was sent away? Please … Eita, I need to know.”
Eita shakes his head. “Do your worst. It won’t make a difference. I’m not telling you.”
Shouyou runs his fingers over the scarred tissue peeking out from underneath his collar. The alpha jerks his head away, lips pulled back in a snarl, but Shouyou ignores him. “That’s new.”
“Fuck off.”
“Is it from Kenjirou?”
“Don’t fucking call him by his first name.”
Leaning away to look at Eita’s face, Shouyou says: “You know, you might not care what happens to you. You might brave through the torture without telling us what we want to know, and end up bleeding out in the gutter somewhere for your packmates to find. But how do you think Kenjirou will take it?”
Eita’s face crumbles. “Don’t.”
“He’s had a rough life. Alphas have treated him like shit since before he even Presented. They’ve used him and abused him because he was young and vulnerable. You and I both know Wakatoshi was one of those alphas. But this—” he swipes his thumb across the mark “—tells me that he cares about you. That he’s finally found someone he trusts enough to be open to. Are you really willing to leave him behind? For him to be all alone?”
Shouyou watches as his words worm their way into Eita’s expression, like he’s being pricked by needles. “Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Has Wakatoshi found a replacement?”
Eita is caught off guard by the question. “A what?”
“A replacement,” Shouyou reiterates calmly. “For Koushi. He wanted an omega to bare his children, and Koushi can’t do that. So, has he found someone else?”
He shakes his head slowly. “Not yet.”
“Kenjirou is only twenty-two, right?”
The alpha’s eyebrows knit together in a frown. “Just what are you implying?”
It takes a lot of effort for Shouyou to be serious. It almost feels like going against his own nature in a way, but there are certain times where being serious is as easy breathing. This is one of those times. “What do you think I’m implying?”
“I think you’re implying something you know jack shit about.”
“Don’t I?” Shouyou brushes his fingers down Semi’s arm. “You think Wakatoshi is above breeding with someone else’s mate?”
“Ushijima respects the property of other alphas,” Eita asserts. The alpha sounds so confident, and yet there’s a glimmer of doubt in his eyes. Shouyou feeds off that doubt, hungers for it.
His breath caresses Eita’s ear, his voice quiet and sweet. “Even the property of a dead alpha’s?”
The threat leaves Eita thinking long and hard about his next response. Shouyou waits a few minutes, allowing him to stew in the pot of tension he’s left on simmer. When he feels he’s waited long enough, gets up to leave, but stops when Eita whispers: “Wait.”
Settling back in his seat, Shouyou folds his arms and gives him an expectant look. Eita slowly raises his head, meeting his eye for the first time. In this one look, Shouyou makes sure to convey just how much pain the alpha has caused him.
Eita’s shoulders fall; a soldier impaled by his own sword. “I’ll tell you where he is.”
*
The air is ruthless in Akahana; a punishing summer smog that sucks the moisture from your skin and leaves you exhausted and light-headed. Sweat already stains Shouyou’s armpits as he waits for Iwaizumi to park the car. Purple twilight settles in the sky, coaxing the sex workers as they begin their nightly business along the strip. Tooru tugs at his hood, bowing to shield his face from curious eyes. It was only after they started dating that Tooru ceased his weekly visits to the red-light districts. Even in a disguise a sex worker could spot him from a close distance. South Side was his main hangout, but word travels fast among sex workers.
Shouyou shifts from one foot to the other, eying the brothel behind them with coiling anticipation.
“Hate parking in these places,” Iwaizumi grumbles as he finally meets them on the sidewalk. “It’s like trying to get a decent meal at a discounted buffet—everyone’s already eating and you’re stuck in line worried all the breadsticks are gone.”
“Let’s go, let’s go,” Shouyou pulls Tooru and Tetsurou towards the brick building.
He’s been on edge ever since Eita gave up Koushi’s location. He didn’t get a wink of sleep, tossing and turning so much that Tooru got fed up and crashed on the couch, taking the blanket with him because as far as he was concerned, Shouyou was already past the point of getting comfortable anyway. All through the next day he pestered his mate and friends. They wouldn’t go to Koushi’s location until they could confirm that a) it wasn’t a trap, and b) Koushi was definitely where Eita said he would be.
When Kenma finally, finally gave the green light, Shouyou was practically bouncing off the walls.
A brothel. That’s where Koushi has been all this time. According to Eita, Wakatoshi didn’t take the news of Koushi’s infertility well. He jumped to the conclusion that he was being intentionally deceived by both Koushi and Daichi. So Wakatoshi took Koushi away from the people he loved most, vowing that he’d never get to see his pack ever again, and forced him into sexual servitude in Akahana—the place Wakatoshi had paid for with Shouyou’s life.
It was the worst-case scenario Shouyou could think of next to Koushi’s death. All night and all day he’d been driven mad by the possibilities racing around in his mind. Was Koushi in a similar state to Daichi? Did he have missing limbs? Was he chained up in a basement? Was he starved and dehydrated? Did they let him wear clothes?
All this time …
All this time …!
And Shouyou had been safe and sound. Kei was right to criticise him. Karasuno suffered while he enjoyed a cushy life in Upper Tokyo’s West. He was loved and protected and cherished, and this whole time Koushi was trapped in a shitty brothel back in Lower Tokyo!
The building’s interior is about what you’d expect from a brothel in San Tokyo’s red-light district. The ceiling lights are dim and forgiving. The off-white paint on the walls is rough and patchy, suggesting that the cracked layer underneath hadn’t been scraped off before a new layer was painted on. Lounge couches sit patiently unoccupied in the lobby, and a fresh vase of orchids sits atop the little wooden reception desk that’s nestled in a nook of a quarter-turn staircase.
A beta woman balances on a wheely chair behind the desk, dusting the surface of a display box that shows a list of names, ages and genders.
“Excuse me.” Tetsurou leans against the counter with a charming grin.
The beta doesn’t even turn around. “Our hosts don’t accept clients until after 9pm. If you want to make a booking, come back around then and I’ll be happy to slot you in.”
Shouyou slaps a hand down on the desk, making Tetsurou flinch. “We’re looking for Sugawara Koushi. Where can we find him?”
Her hand stills. She slowly turns to look at them over her shoulder, her expression revealing nothing. “That depends who’s asking.”
“Shiratorizawa sent us,” Tetsurou says quickly.
She isn’t convinced. “That’s funny, because usually I get a call ahead of time if one of Ushijima’s comes around.”
The panic is almost palpable through the silence.
“My name is Hinata Shouyou,” Shouyou relents. “Koushi, along with his previous mate, took me in off the street and raised me as their own. I’d like you tell me where he is, please.”
The woman’s eyes soften, and she hops down from her chair. “Thank god. I thought you’d never show up.”
This takes them off guard. Iwaizumi blinks. “I’m sorry, what?”
Her eyes are intently focused on Shouyou. “You’re from Sugawara’s first pack, aren’t you? The little redhead omega?”
Shouyou tugs off his wigs, freeing his wild curls. “That’s me!”
She looks relieved. “He talks about you all the time. Sugawara is on the top floor.” She pulls out a key from a drawer and hands it to Shouyou. “Here, it’s a spare key. He should be up there getting ready for the night. Let yourself in.”
Shouyou struggles to respond. Tooru places a hand on Shouyou’s shoulder and smiles warmly at the beta. “Thank you very much for your cooperation.”
The beta nods. “I never want to see him walk through my doors again, OK? Take him far away from here, away from that bastard southern Don and his pack of mongrels.”
They take a rickety elevator with a cracked mirror up to the nineth floor of the building. It opens up into a small corridor with only one door. Shouyou’s hand shakes as he tries to lodge the key into the keyhole. He eventually gives up and hands it over to Tetsurou, who does it for him.
“Hello? Sugawara? Are you in here?” Tetsurou calls as they enter into what looks like a cosy condo.
It isn’t anything like the dingy, dark basement Shouyou had created in his mind. A well-made queen-sized bed is pressed up to one wall, with nightstands and lamps on either side. There’s a desk near an open window, allowing in a small breeze, a round table with two wooden chairs, and a TV facing the bed.
There’s the sound of a toilet flushing, and then the door to their right opens. Koushi stands with a towel limp in his hands, staring straight at them like he can’t believe what he’s actually seeing.
Images of Koushi beaten and bruised, of him starved and thirsty, evaporate to dust in a single moment as he takes in the omega standing before them. There aren’t any marks or bruising from what Shouyou can see. In fact, he looks much healthier than when Shouyou saw him last—not as gaunt or as frail from the trauma Wakatoshi inflicted upon him.
All at once the breath escapes his lungs. Tears sting the corners of his eyes and his bottom lip wobbles, and Shouyou knows he can’t keep it in any longer. He launches himself at Koushi, choking back his name, and the older omega opens his arms as if from muscle memory.
Koushi coos, bringing him close against him, his own tears wetting Shouyou’s curls. “You finally came. You finally found me.”
Shouyou fists the man’s t-shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping him from falling apart. “Kou—Koushi … I’m sorry I took so long!”
The older omega smiles, fingers burying in his apricot hair. “Welcome home, Shouyou.”
Chapter 29: Ryuunosuke
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Iwaizumi, the new leader of Seijoh, graciously helps Koushi into a chair by the table so that he doesn’t have to struggle carrying Shouyou all on his own. The alpha then sits opposite him.
The deadweight of Shouyou snoozing in his lap digs up a pile of nostalgia for Koushi. His fingers stroke down the curve of the younger omega’s spine as he slowly inhales and exhales, his tiny mouth parted with his cheek resting against Koushi’s shoulder. The poor thing. He’d cried so much that he fell asleep. It must’ve been hard keeping in all that emotion; lord knows he always tries to brave through his sadness in the hopes that it’ll magically disappear.
The boy’s reaction should worry Koushi, but it doesn’t. If anything, he’s relieved. Being away from his pack for so long, he was beginning to feel as if he were in a dinghy gradually going adrift, watching as the world he knows gets further out of his reach. If Koushi were lucky enough to reunite with Shouyou, he imagined he wouldn’t be the same omega he once knew. After all he’s been through, it’s the least he expected.
And maybe Shouyou has changed in some ways—he wouldn’t know, but seeing him burst into a fit of tears in his arms, Koushi knew then that Shouyou is still Shouyou at his core. That’s a greater blessing than he could’ve hoped for.
“He looks well.” Koushi cards his fingers through his unruly tangerine curls with gentle fondness. “Bokuto has taken good care of him.”
“Bokuto,” Oikawa whines, crossing his arms over his chest. Good to see the alpha’s petulance hasn’t changed.
“Oi,” Iwaizumi reprimands.
Oikawa stomps his foot, irritation ruining his pretty face. “What? Why does Bokuto get all the credit for taking care of Shou-chan! That oaf wouldn’t know how to fry an egg even with a step-by-step tutorial open in his lap!”
“Why are you so …” Koushi frowns, pulling Shouyou closer so that he can get a whiff of his scent. “Oh.”
A batch of freshly made cookies still cools on a plate on the counter, a chilled flagon of milk nearby, but outside the world is raining. It isn’t common for scents to evoke auditory hallucinations, but he can practically hear the sound of tiny bullet-sized raindrops thundering against the roof. It’s a warning, he belatedly realises. The undertone of the scent is designed to ward off other alphas. There’s something else about the scent that’s off. A stinging sweetness he hadn’t associated with Shouyou until now.
Concern coils in his gut and peeks down at the omega’s neck. The mark is there, plain as day, healed and faded like an old battle scar.
His fingers tremble, anger tearing at his throat ready to explode, and then Shouyou shifts in his sleep and their stomachs brush against each other. Immediately, his eyes flash up and meet with Oikawa’s cool stare. Without looking away, his hand slowly slips between their intertwined bodies and the hard bump confirms his worst fears.
The alpha doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed.
“Get out,” he growls, keeping his voice low for Shouyou’s sake. “I can’t even stand the sight of you right now.”
“I—”
But Koushi doesn’t want to hear it. “Get out.”
Iwaizumi looks at his friend and shrugs. “Wait outside for a bit. We won’t be long.”
Oikawa scoffs, eyes rolling to the ceiling. “Sure, I’m the bad guy,” the alpha mutters as he whirls around and marches out of the room.
Koushi doesn’t relax until he hears the door close. His hand remains on Shouyou’s stomach. It doesn’t feel real—not the bump, but the situation in general. Here he was thinking tonight was just going to be like all the others, and Shouyou shows up not only with a mark but—but this. It’s like a surreal dream. He eyes the walls, as if expecting them to start warping on their own accord.
“Oikawa’s an asshole,” Iwaizumi confirms what Koushi has known for years. He watches the alpha pull a packet of cigarettes from his jacket as Kuroo wonders over to the large window looking out over the sidewalk. “Could think of a hundred other alphas that’d be a better pick than him. I’m not gonna defend him, but if it gives you any piece of mind, he does care for Hinata.”
Koushi sighs, closing his eyes. “I would’ve been angry, regardless of who Shouyou chose—and not for the right reasons either. I—” he stops short and points at the cigarette hanging loosely in Iwaizumi’s mouth “—mind if I steal one?”
The man’s severe eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “Uh, sure.”
Smiling sheepishly, Koushi fishes a lighter from his dressing gown pocket and offers to light Iwaizumi’s cigarette. Smoke billows from a relaxing exhale and Iwaizumi leans back in his seat.
“Never pegged you as the kind of omega that smokes,” Iwaizumi says as Koushi sticks a cigarette between his teeth, then his hands shoot up when he realises how that came across. “Not that there’s anything wrong with an omega smoking—just didn’t expect it, is all.”
“It’s alright.” He tilts his head up and away and exhales, tossing the lighter on the table. “I didn’t smoke until I came here. It’s a dry house—no alcohol to numb the depression, you see—so, we smoke instead. I always told myself I’d kick the habit the day I left this place. May as well make the most of it, no?”
The room fills with the smell of ash and smoke, but the open window alleviates some of the damage. Koushi taps ash on the table. “The image of the boys I have in my head—it’s unrealistic, maybe even a little toxic. Definitely selfish. I don’t want to see them all grown up; I don’t want them to face reality like we had to. There are things in this world that are scary for omegas—marking and pregnancy being two of them—so seeing Shouyou this way … in a new light … It’s just a lot to take in.”
“It’s not ideal,” Iwaizumi agrees. “I wouldn’t absolve Oikawa from all the blame, ‘cuz he’s an idiot and he should’ve known better, but Hinata is in good hands. From what I’ve seen and heard, the Don and Akaashi love him very much.”
Letting Shouyou go was one of the hardest things Koushi has ever had to go through, which is saying a lot. They stood there, at the entrance to the western bridge, until Shouyou had vanished from sight, and he remembers feeling as if a hole had been gouged out of his chest. Half the group were in tears, and the other half were just barely keeping it together. Koushi was in the latter category. Even if he felt like screaming at the top of his lungs, he had to stay strong for his boys.
They were just about to head back to Western Heights when Kageyama appeared, out of breath and flustered. But by then it was too late.
The look on Kageyama’s face when Koushi said he’d missed Shouyou is something he still thinks about from time to time. He’s always been so emotional, that boy—so volatile and sensitive. It wouldn’t surprise him if he still carried that guilt around with him, even after all this time. He’d imagine seeing Shouyou this way will stir up a lot of turmoil, especially since his mate is Oikawa. Lord help him.
Despite it all though, the pain, the anguish, the longing, Koushi knew it was the trade that’d guarantee Shouyou’s survival. Looks like it paid off in the end, just not the way he was expecting it to.
A sad smile touches his lips. “I wonder what Daichi would think of all this. He was just as much a father to Shouyou as I was, after all.”
The silence that follows is awkward, the kind that snakes around your windpipe and makes it hard to breathe. Iwaizumi and Kuroo share a look from across the room, and Koushi’s heart sinks. “What is it?”
“Daichi is the reason why we came looking for you,” Kuroo explains, leg up on the windowsill, staring blankly out into the early night. “My team recovered him a little over a month ago.”
Koushi straightens, and then relaxes when he remembers Shouyou is wrapped around him like a koala bear. “I thought he was dead,” are the first words out of his mouth.
“Everyone thought he was dead,” Kuroo says. “Didn’t stop us from looking for him. The moment we found him we rushed him to hospital.”
“Is he alright?”
A single, pained look tells Koushi everything he needs to know, and he forces himself to look away, down at the pile of ash accumulating on the table. “Ushijima would always threaten to kill Daichi as a way to control me. It’s why I never tried escaping from this place. In the back of my mind, I thought Ushijima was lying, that Daichi was dead and he was just saying he was still alive so I’d do what he says. It worked—I guess. There was no way for me to confirm he was dead.”
“We—” but Kuroo doesn’t finish that thought before his phone is buzzing. He answers it. “Kenma? Are you—what? What do you mean?”
Iwaizumi exhales the last of his cigarette and dabs it against the table, watching Kuroo with mild interest.
“Fuck.” Kuroo looks at Iwaizumi. “Eita’s escaped!”
“Fucking hell.” He turns to Koushi. “You need to pack your bags ASAP. We’ve gotta get out of here.”
Koushi pales. “Ushijima knows you’re here?”
“He will once Semi gets in contact with him—if he hasn’t already.”
“He’s supposed to visit me tonight.”
Iwaizumi stills. “Who?”
“Ushijima.”
“What! Why?”
Shifting uncomfortably, Koushi explains: “We’re still mates, despite how publicly the Don denies it. Being away from me too long makes him irritable and distracted, so as a compromise he comes and spends the night with me two times out of the week—and when I get my heat, I stay at his apartment.”
“Don’t tell Oikawa about that.” He strides over to the door and yanks it open. Oikawa topples to the floor with an exaggerate cry.
“Tell me what, Iwa-chan?” The alpha makes no move to get up from where he’s landed on the crappy orange carpet.
“Grab Hinata. We’re leaving as soon as Sugawara has finished packing.”
“Where’s the rush? Jeez.” Nevertheless, Oikawa crosses the room and plucks Shouyou from Koushi lap.
“Iwaizumi.” The man turns to see Kuroo panicked. “Our location’s been compromised. What do we do?”
“Tell Kenma to grab what he can and meet us at my pack’s address. We’ll be safe there.”
Oikawa ignores Shouyou drooling all over his shoulder as he takes a step in Iwaizumi’s direction, his expression hard. “Iwa-chan! At least consult me before making decisions that’ll put our pack in danger!”
The slightly shorter alpha crosses his arms over his chest. “You aren’t the leader anymore, Shittykawa. Besides—don’t you want to see your packmates again?”
Koushi doesn’t have to pack much. Amazing how he’s built a life in this room for three whole years, and yet it’s so easy to leave most of it behind. Maybe because he knew this part of his life had an expiry date, that it wouldn’t be permanent. If someone hadn’t come for him, he would’ve left eventually.
They pile into a van, Iwaizumi at the wheel and Kuroo in the passenger seat. The three of them—Koushi, Shouyou and Oikawa—pile into the back.
“Who’re you calling?” Iwaizumi jams his keys into the ignition and the engine roars to life.
Kuroo rests an elbow on the passenger side door, but before he can answer Iwaizumi’s question, someone on the other end picks up. “Hello? Kei?”
Koushi’s heart flips.
The conversation Kuroo has with Tsukishima is brief, but he’d be surprised if the blonde could tolerate a phone call any longer than a few minutes. Kuroo explains the situation so far, that Koushi is with them and that he’s safe, and to meet them at an address Koushi doesn’t recognise, but assumes is Seijoh’s location.
Just as the car is turning off the red-light strip, a black SUV comes skirting into the opposite lane and speeds right past them. Goosebumps pebble Koushi’s skin and his heart plummets into his stomach as he watches the car pull up to the curb outside The Songbird where he’s been working and living the past three years.
The SUV doesn’t escape the notice of everyone else in the car. Iwaizumi urges the speed dial up a few kilometres. Shouyou writhes to peer out the back window, then gasps. “It’s Taichi and Reon!”
The car goes quiet. Oikawa tugs Shouyou down and away from the exposure the windows pose. They’re tinted, but they’re not bulletproof. Iwaizumi doesn’t dare go any faster, fearing that if he does it’ll attract their attention. The moment Kuroo is off the phone with Tsukishima, he dials someone else. It turns out to be Kenma again, who’s apparently slipped out of the hotel undetected.
Everyone holds their breath until they cross the gate into Middle Tokyo.
“You know we won’t be able to stay there for long. If Semi knows you’re with us, then Ushijima knows now too, meaning they’ll have to consider Seijoh’s place as a possible hideout,” Oikawa reminds Iwaizumi as he turns off a main road into a quiet residential area. Since Akahana used to be West Side, they’d crossed into allied territory before they’d even gotten to the gate. Oikawa shifts anxiously. “I’d expect something like this from myself, but you? Since when do you jeopardize the safety of our pack?”
“Nothing is being jeopardized,” Iwaizumi asserts. “Not if I can help it.”
They park in the driveway of a two-storey suburban home with a balcony and a healthy maple growing in the front garden. Light peeks through the gaps in the drawn blinds. As Iwaizumi cuts the engine, Koushi spies a figure peeking out of them.
The sliding glass door leading onto the balcony is thrown open, and Hanamaki and Matsukawa stumble out, brandishing shotguns.
“Show yourselves, assholes!” Matsukawa yells.
Iwaizumi rolls his eyes and pulls out his phone. Hanamaki reaches into his pocket and answers. “It’s us, idiots. Put the guns away, we’ve got omegas in the car.”
Hanamaki’s mouth drops into a perfect ‘o’ shape, and the both of them lower their weapons.
Kuroo and Iwaizumi hurry them through the front door. Koushi trips over the shoes he’s in the process of taking off as he stumbles his way over to Kei, who’s standing by the door to the kitchen. Multiple footsteps come thumping down the stairs, but Koushi doesn’t need to look to know it’s Seijoh coming to welcome back their ex-leader. When he finally pulls away from Kei, he finds Oikawa and Iwaizumi buried under a dogpile of human bodies.
The only Seijoh member who doesn’t join is Kyoutani, who stands off to the side with a fixed scowl.
“Wow, you’ve gotten so tall!” Koushi giggles, squeezing Kei’s arms. “Just when I thought you couldn’t get any taller, here you are putting basketball players to shame!”
“You’re …” Kei takes his time finding the right way to respond. “You’re OK.”
Koushi shrugs, giving the alpha a hearty slap. “I’ve been better, but enough about boring old me. Tell me what it’s like working in the mayor’s office, Mr Bigshot!”
The next couple of hours are unexpectedly pleasant, despite the danger they’re all in. Instead of going straight to the hospital with Kei, as he so desperately wants to, he decides to sit down with the blonde alpha and catch up on lost time. The next days, weeks and months ahead of them will be the toughest. There won’t be room for playful teasing and light conversation. Kuroo reassured him in the car that Daichi is being heavily guarded by members of Nekoma, so he decides to be a little selfish.
The house is practically buzzing with excitement; he and Kei aren’t the only noteworthy reunion to happen under the same roof. The news of Oikawa and Shouyou is met with a mirage of taunts (mostly from Matsukawa and Hanamaki, who’re convinced Shouyou was somehow coerced into the relationship by Oikawa), but the banter takes a sharp turn into the emotional when they learn Shouyou is also pregnant. They take to the news of being uncles very well.
“Why couldn’t you have been more excited about being an uncle?” Shouyou pouts up at Kei, who rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his tea.
“Because it’s your and Oikawa’s baby. It’ll be the most annoying thing to ever breathe,” he answers distractedly. Koushi’s keen gaze travels from Kei to Kuroo, who his eyes seem to seek out no matter where Nekoma’s leader is in the room.
Interesting.
Shouyou shoots him a cheeky grin. “Don’t tempt me into making you its godfather.”
The blonde glares, but Koushi knows Kei too well. There’s a softness in his golden gaze he’ll deny until he’s well and truly six feet under. “You wouldn’t dare.”
“Ne, Hinata?” Kindaichi sits down in the seat next to the ginger, a beer in his hand (Iwaizumi had explicitly told them not to drink while Shiratorizawa are on the prowl, but soon gave in when Hanamaki mockingly started calling him “Iwa-ji-san”). “You got an idea of whether it’s a boy or a girl?”
Shouyou gapes at him, then places a hand on his stomach. “I … I hadn’t even thought about it?”
Kindaichi almost spits out his beer. “Haven’t even thought about it! That’s like, the first thing I’d wonder if I found out my mate was pregnant!”
“O-Oh? Is it really so important?”
“Nah, but ain’cha curious?”
Looking up at the ceiling thoughtfully, the ginger worries his bottom lip. “I should really go see a pregnancy doctor, shouldn’t I?”
Kei snorts. “An obstetrician, simpleton.”
“Whatever. I’ve just been so preoccupied with my mission that it never even occurred to me that I need to go see a doctor about this.” Kei sighs, leaning back until his chair is balanced on its hind legs. “If I’m like this now, what am I gonna be like when the baby comes?”
Kei jerks Shouyou’s chair so that all four of its legs are firmly planted to the floor. “There’s no hope for that kid, I’m afraid. It’ll be diagnosed with idiot syndrome, just like its parents,” Kei supplies sagely.
Koushi reaches across the table, cupping the omega’s hands in his own. “A lot has been happening in your life. Don’t be hard on yourself just because you haven’t had the time to address the situation yet. There’s no need to put unnecessary stress on yourself. You have people who’ll be there—Kei and me included.”
“And don’t forget us!” Kindaichi butts in, slinging his arm around Shouyou. “Seijoh’s here to help too. You’re part of the pack now!”
Shouyou groans. “Another pack. When will it end?”
They leave at around 10pm. Iwaizumi graciously offered to let them stay the night and drive them to the hospital early the next day, but Koushi doesn’t think he could get any sleep even if he tried. Kei waits in his car as Koushi peppers Shouyou’s face with kisses.
“I’ll call you tomorrow!” Kuroo yells at Kei from the front door, and without even inclining his head the blonde rolls up the window, pretending he hadn’t heard him.
“Return to us soon,” Koushi coos at Shouyou, fruitlessly fixing his mess of curls. “Can’t wait to have all my little crows back in the nest again.”
“I’ll send the rest to you safe and sound!” Shouyou’s big, brown eyes burn with determination.
Koushi nods, placing a hand to Shouyou’s stomach. “Goodbye, little one. Don’t miss Grandpa Suga too much!”
*
Skewered meat crackles on a grate, hissing as drops of grease fall through the cracks and evaporate on the open flame below. They’re gathered around a table grill in a large, rustic dining area with a ceiling fan whirring overhead. Hajime readjusts himself on the pillow and reaches over the table with a pair of tongs to flip the meat over.
Saeko sighs out a cloud of smoke from her ridiculously large pipe. “So, you let Semi Eita escape.”
The shy, Nekoma omega with pudding hair bows his head so that his bangs hide his face. “The fault is mine. It didn’t occur to me to check if his restraints needed tightening, and he managed to overpower me while I was distracted.”
“Well then,” she flips her hair out of her eyes, “this is a bit of a pickle, isn’t it? Osamu here tells me that you want something from me, and I’ve gotta tell ya, you ain’t making me feel terribly generous. If you’d just let my agent take him, he’d still be nice and snug in my care. Now that that’s out the window, you’ve left us no choice but to begin our hunt all over again.”
A few East Side associates sit at the table alongside them: Miya Osamu (who’s doing his best to temper his frustration); Shinsuke Kita (leader of the notorious Inarizaki); Rintarou Suna (East Side’s #1 Sharpshooter); and Haiba Alisa (Saeko’s mate). Kita and Alisa seem amicable enough. They don’t look at them as if they’re expecting a brawl to break out at any moment, anyway. The same can’t be said for Osamu or Suna.
Hajime falls into a stiff bow. “We’re terribly sorry. We were fully prepared to hand Semi over to you after we’d secured Sugawara Koushi’s safety.”
“Ah, how is Koushi?” The stiffness in Saeko’s expression softens and she pours herself a glass of sake. “Haven’t heard from him in so long, I assumed Ushijima was keeping him locked away somewhere.”
“Not exactly,” he responds tightly. He’d rather avoid the specifics of Sugawara’s situation if he can help it.
Saeko shakes his head. “Ryu told me all about what happened. Such a pity—Sugawara and Sawamura were like the perfect couple. To think that Ushijima would take an alpha’s omega away like that! The man has no heart!”
“We’ve removed Sugawara from the situation. He’s with Sawamura now.”
“Daichi’s alive?” Her eyebrows shoot up, but her surprise quickly morphs into a frown. She downs her glass and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “If Daichi’s been alive this whole time, I couldn’t imagine he’d be in a very good state.”
“He’s not,” Kuroo swallows thickly, “he’s been given five months to live—well, three and a half months now.”
“That’s why we’re here, actually,” Hajime adds. “Daichi has requested he see his pack again before …” he coughs “… Look—we need to speak with your brother, Ryuunosuke. He’ll want to see him.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Saeko says. Alisa plucks a skewer from the grill and forks half of it onto Saeko’s plate before offering the rest to Kita. The Don picks up her chopsticks. “I’ll allow for you to see my brother as soon as today, if you’d like. But first we should address the Ushijima situation. It’s getting too out of hand, and I’m tired of the West’s passivity. Akaashi still thinks this can be resolved without violence, but blood has already been spilled—lots of it. How many more must die before the West join the fray? Your involvement will put a swift end to Ushijima’s tyranny, and we can instate a new Don to take his place in the South.”
Out the corner of his eye, he notices Oikawa perk up with interest. Nobody else seems to detect the sudden change in the alpha’s demeanour, not even Hinata, who’s sitting beside him.
“Lady, we’re not here to discuss politics,” Kuroo growls. “Daichi doesn’t have long to live, and we still have four crows to bring home. Your petty war with the South doesn’t factor into that.”
Inarizaki grit their teeth and glare at Kuroo for his curtness towards their Don, but the Nekoma leader is beyond the point of giving a shit.
“Doesn’t it?” Saeko chews on her meat deliberately. “Funny, because last I checked,” she swallows, “you need to talk to my brother, and I won’t let that happen unless you can get me a meeting with Akaashi and Bokuto.”
Kuroo levels Saeko with a stare. “I think Akaashi has made it clear on multiple occasions that he’s not interested in getting the West involved. Karasuno matters involve your brother, and I’m sure he’d very much like to know that his leader is on his deathbed. You wouldn’t want to keep something so vital from your own blood would you, Tanaka?”
She rests her cheek in her palm, unperturbed Kuroo outburst. “Wouldn’t I? I love my baby brother, but blood holds no value among strays and rogues. What my brother doesn’t know can’t hurt him. And even if he were to find out years down the line, it wouldn’t matter. He’s convinced Daichi is dead anyway.”
If there’s one rumour that holds true, it’s that Don Tanaka’s stubborn nature could give a mule a run for its money. In terms of rigidity, she settles somewhere in between Ushijima and Bokuto—the former being on the severe end, obviously. Saeko isn’t so headstrong that it becomes a detriment to her business and reputation, but she’s no bleeding heart either. An onion has a better chance of moving her to tears than whatever sob story they have at their disposal.
Kuroo stands, fixing the top button of his blazer. “If that’s the case then—”
“I’ll call them,” a quiet voice says, barely audible over the searing meat. Heads turn to Hinata, who’s been uncharacteristically quiet since their arrival. “I’ll call Akaashi and convince him to meet with you.”
“Don’t be such a push over, Shou!” Kuroo snaps, but Hinata’s gaze doesn’t waver from The Don.
“And Bokuto too,” Saeko adds, throwing another piece of meat in her mouth. “I want them both.”
Hinata nods and excuses himself from the table. Kuroo’s knee jerks as if to stop himself from kicking the table and turns around to leave. “I’m going to the bathroom,” he mutters over his shoulder.
Kenma also excuses himself, following his leader out of sight.
The moment they’re left alone with Saeko and her associates, Oikawa scootches so that he’s sitting directly across from The Don. Hajime gives Oikawa a suspicious glance, which he ignores. The charismatic alpha laces his fingers together and leans forward with a charming smile.
“If it’s any consolation, you have my full endorsement in this conflict, Lady Don,” Oikawa croons in that voice he uses whenever he’s buttering someone up. “I know more than most how imperative it is to remove Ushiwaka from power. In fact, I saw the warnings on the wall years ago, but did anybody listen to me then? Not at all! My reservations were taken for pettiness because I have a history with the man.”
Saeko grunts into her cup. “Feeling vindicated?”
Running a hand through his ruffles locks, Oikawa replies: “Why yes, a little. But I’m not bringing this up to gloat—no, no! I believe that our interests align perfectly, and I’d be remiss if I didn’t offer you a helping hand in taking out Ushiwaka and his ugly pack of wolves.”
Hajime drops the subtle signalling in favour of openly glaring at his friend. Again, he goes ignored.
She quirks an eyebrow. “Would you even go behind the back of your own Don?”
“If it gets to that, yes.”
Oikawa flinches at the elbow Hajime nails against his ribs. “Oi, what are you doing, Shittykawa?”
Oikawa’s expression doesn’t falter. “Please, Iwa-chan. Let me say what I have to say and we can talk about it later, ‘kay?”
“There’s nothing to talk about!” Hajime growls, his voice lowering as he checks over his shoulder to make sure Hinata is still out of range. “What you’re speaking of is treason! I can’t believe you’d even entertain it when Fukuroudani have bent over backwards to save your ass from Shiratorizawa!”
Oikawa rolls his eyes. “Always worrying your pretty head about absolutely nothing as usual, Iwa-chan. I really don’t see how Fukuroudani could lose in this situation. If we fail, Fukuroudani are within their rights to throw me under the bus and assure Ushiwaka that I was acting without their knowledge; and if we succeed, we’ll have a tyrant off his throne and Fukuroudani can count their lucky stars their necks aren’t next on the chopping block. It’s just that simple!”
“You seem awfully enthusiastic about the whole thing,” Kita observes. “Even if you hate Ushijima, I doubt he’s worth throwing away your coveted status in the West.”
“Not to mention your family,” Osamu adds.
Saeko leans over, her barely contained breasts resting on the table. “Be frank with us, Oikawa. What do you stand to benefit from all this—aside from taking out someone you have a grudge with?”
A shadow of cunning flashes across Oikawa’s eyes. The hairs on Hajime’s arms stand up. “Make me the new Don of South Side once Ushiwaka has been removed from power.”
It’s like a punch to the gut. After the bounty went public four years ago, he’d assumed Oikawa had given up on his ambition to become the next Don. At that point there was nothing left to be said. Oikawa was no longer an agent of South Side, he was serving Fukuroudani, and he was prioritizing staying alive over everything else.
And now …
Hajime grabs Oikawa’s ear and twists it as hard as he can. Oikawa slaps a hand over his mouth and chokes back a howl. “You self-serving, inconsiderate bastard. Hinata’s five months along and you’re still stuck on dreams of luxury and grandeur. Isn’t just living in Upper Tokyo not enough for you now? You have to be the top dog too? What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Oikawa shoves him away, pouting. “Iwa-chan! It’s not like that!”
“Don’t fucking Iwa-chan me!”
“I’m doing it for Shou-chan!” That shuts him up. Oikawa turns back to Saeko and the others at the table. “We’ll never be safe so long as Ushiwaka lives. If I take his place as the new Don, I can call off the bounty on our heads and secure a safe, well-guarded life for my family.”
His shoulders sag, realisation dawning on him. “Oh.”
“Yeah, oh.” Oikawa snorts. “Why do you always assume the worst of me?”
“Because you are the worst,” Hinata answers, joining them at the table.
Oikawa splutters. “Shou! How could you say that?”
“Anyway, why was Iwaizumi-san assuming the worst of you? What’d I miss?” Hinata reaches over to serve himself some food.
“Nothing of importance,” Oikawa brushes aside slickly. “What did Akaashi say?”
The ginger pouts down at his food, his eyes slowly rising to meet Saeko’s. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t convince him.”
“It’s no matter.” Saeko shrugs.
Hinata picks at his food with his chopsticks. “So you won’t let us see Ryuu then?”
The Don purses her lips in thought. “I’ve had a change of heart. I’ll let you see my brother.”
The omega frowns. “What? But I thought—”
Saeko grins. “Like I said, I’ve had a change of heart. You can see him today if you want.”
Luckily, excitement wipes away any queries bouncing around in the ginger’s head, and he cracks a big smile that in itself could beat global warning at its own game. “Really? Thank you! Thank you so much, Tanaka-san!”
She flips her hair. “Please! Call me nee-san!”
“Nee-san!”
She puffs out her chest and gives a hearty laugh. Kuroo and Kenma return, the former visibly calmer than when he left. The Nekoma duo are befuddled by the sudden developments that occurred in their absence, but are too relieved to dig further into it. They get to see Ryuunosuke, and Fukuroudani don’t have to get involved. Win, win, right? Throughout the rest of their meal, Oikawa plays his part eerily well, while Hajime goes over the conversation in his head.
Once Saeko is done picking her teeth, she plucks her empty bottle of sake and places it down beside the rest. For someone who sucks down alcohol faster than she can eat, the woman’s frighteningly sober.
“I understand that you love Daichi very much, Hinata,” she says. “But what you’re doing is dangerous. You shouldn’t have to bear this burden all by yourself.”
“But I’m not alone.” The ginger beams, gesturing to his friends and family. “I have these guys!”
“It would give me some peace of mind if you’d allow me to send some of my men to accompany you,” her eyes flicker to Oikawa, “for extra protection.”
Kuroo grunts. “That’s not necessary.”
Hinata pinkens, throwing up his hands. “You’ve been so generous to us already, and—you’ve got so much on your plate right now. It wouldn’t be right, nee-san!”
“I insist, Hinata,” Saeko coos. “Please? For me?”
The omega doesn’t have much resolve to begin with, so the moment Saeko begs in her sweetest, most innocuous voice (which isn’t so innocuous if you know anything about her), he folds. “If it’ll make you happy …”
“Oh it would! What do you say, Shinsuke, Rintarou, Osamu? I’m sure the three of you must be dying to get away from Upper Tokyo for a while with all the craziness that’s been going on recently.”
A protest is ready to burst from Osamu’s and Kuroo’s mouths, but Kita leans over to smile at his Don. “We’d be honoured.”
She smirks. “Good.”
*
They find Ryuu in an apartment that’s an extension of Saeko’s apartment. Apparently, it used to be one big apartment before her little brother moved in, and so the place was remodelled to be both connected and separate so that the siblings had their privacy. The bald man (still keeping things efficient) is propped up on a ladder painting the walls of an empty bedroom a pastel lilac. As if seeing him isn’t a surprise enough, Shouyou is even more shocked to see that Ryuu isn’t alone—Shimizu is with him.
“—and I’m telling ya, Kiyoko, the boy flew through the air like he had wings! I’ve never seen anything like it! Hinata and Kageyama, they—”
Shouyou taps his fist against the door, interrupting Ryuu. They turn in their direction. “Oh, hey Hinata,” Ryuu says casually. “Anyway so then—wait! Hinata!”
The bald beta falls off the ladder and narrowly misses a bucket of paint sitting by Shimizu’s feet, but in the process paints a long, sweeping arch across the white wall. He wouldn’t be Ryuu if he didn’t recover quickly though, and he’s on his feet and across the room in the blink of an eye, sweeping Shouyou up into his arms.
“C’mere you little son of a bitch! I can’t believe it—Kiyoko! Look! It’s Hinata!” To emphasize this, he pinches Shouyou’s cheeks between his thumb and fingers.
Shimizu smiles and puts down her brush. “Yes, I can see that.”
“Hi S’miza-sam!” Shouyou says between squished lips.
She tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, as beautiful as the day he last saw her. There’s something different about her that Shouyou can’t quite place until his eyes fall to her bulging stomach. “It’s good to see you again, Hinata-kun.”
They catch up in Ryuu’s kitchen. Before the high of the reunion has even settled, Shimizu—sorry, Kiyoko (they married last year in spring)—asks how far along Shouyou is. Ryuu serves up the usual big brother spiel, tossing in some creative language to try and scare Tooru into wetting himself (the most Ryuu gets out of him is a yawn), but the anger soon devolves into happy tears, because they’re both going to be parents and isn’t that exciting?
“They’ll only be months apart!” Ryuu exclaims as he puts on the electric kettle. “Who woulda thought we’d be parents, eh Hinata? Wasn’t so long ago we were on the streets raising hell for the neighbours!”
Shouyou gulps. He’s trying not to think about it too much. “Y-Yeah, pretty crazy.”
As the beta turns his back to them, Shouyou leans in closer to Kiyoko. “Hey, um, so uh—how did um … you two uhh—” he points at her stomach “—you know, do that?”
It’s common knowledge that betas are infertile, and with a third of betas taking up the country’s overall population, the government push for alpha/omega relations as something to be embraced as the status-quo. It’s also why societal expectations are so fiercely enforced upon omegas.
Kiyoko isn’t insulted by the question at all. “We went through a sperm donor.”
“Oh.” The answer is so obvious now that Shouyou can’t believe he wasn’t able to figure it out himself.
Shouyou waits until Ryuu has finished making tea for everybody and has settled into a seat before he delivers him the news. It breaks Shouyou’s heart to watch Ryuu’s beaming, practically glowing face dim to that of a forced smile.
“All this time, huh?” Ryuu looks down at his tea. Kiyoko places a gentle hand on his back. “Is anybody with him right now?”
“Koushi and Kei,” Shouyou says. “They’re waiting for you to join them at the hospital.”
The beta nods, thin-lipped. He rubs his face, lets out a small sob, then slaps his hand over his eyes. “Oh god.”
Shouyou is so thankful that Ryuu has Kiyoko there to support him, because in all honesty he doesn’t know what he would’ve done. This is the second time he’s had to tell someone this (Iwaizumi was generous enough to tell Koushi on his behalf), and it doesn’t feel any easier than the first. In fact, it feels much worse. Kei has the composure of a brick wall, so he can take just about any news with a straight face, whereas Ryuu is the exact opposite.
“The baby’s room can wait. We’ll pack our bags and leave for the hospital tonight,” Kiyoko says as she rubs circles into Ryu’s back.
“I can’t come with you, I have to keep searching for the others,” Shouyou murmurs, unable to speak any louder in fear that his voice might break. “Which reminds me, there’s something I need from you before you go.”
Ryuu raises his head, wiping the corner of his eye with a sniff. “Anything. I’ll give you whatever you want, Hinata. You’re my little bro.”
“I need you to tell me where Yuu and Asahi are.”
The beta shakes his head, running a hand over his bald head. “They moved to Okayama prefecture—that’s all I can tell you.”
“That’s all?” Shouyou repeats. “How can that be all you know? You and Noya—”
“I know.” Ryuu doesn’t meet his stare. A long stretch of silence follows before he mutters: “Things change. I’m sorry.”
Notes:
Guyysssss I'm so sorry I've been slack on replying to your comments! I love and read every single one of them! I've just been so busy lately that I've been falling behind. Hope you're all doing well <3
Chapter 30: Yuu & Asahi
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Finding Yuu and Asahi is going to be a near impossible task. Needles in a mountain of hay; chips of glass in a sea of sand. Ryuunosuke was profusely apologetic. He couldn’t give them more than a prefecture, and even then, there’s no certainty that the pair are still there.
They could be halfway across the world for all they know.
The day they were freed from Shiratorizawa’s talons, Yuu told Saeko that he and Asahi were moving to the country. It was sudden, according to Ryuu, but not surprising. They’d been talking about the countryside for some time leading up to the decision. The pair were at their wit’s end with rogue politics and the unrelenting city. The ghoulish metropolis ebbed away at them, taking with it parts of them they couldn’t recover. It started when they left Lower Tokyo, tore when Daichi was taken, bled when Koushi was claimed, and ached when Shouyou left. It festered for another year, until the opportune moment presented itself. And they fled.
Saeko allowed it. She wasn’t interested in forcing them to stick around. Even went as far as to give them a respectable amount of money—enough for them to start over some place new.
What Shouyou can’t wrap his head around is why they wouldn’t keep in contact with anyone. Yuu and Ryuu were two peas in a pot at one point in time; you never saw one without the other. And though Asahi was quiet and unassuming, he was just as much a big brother to the pack as the other two. So why? Why wouldn’t they leave a phone number or an address? They couldn’t even be bothered to send an email or a text or a letter!
Just a prefecture. A whole prefecture.
The world rushes by the window and the smooth engine occupies the quiet of the car. Oranges, reds and yellows seep the edges of the vegetation dominating the Japanese wildness, welcoming autumn as it steps off the bus onto its mountainous landscape.
Three and a half months. That’s how long they have to find the rest of Karasuno. He already feels like they’ve failed.
Where do you even start? There are almost two million people living in Okayama prefecture.
A foot nudges his own.
“You look upset,” Kenma murmurs without looking up from his console.
“That’s because I am.”
There’s a lull, and then: “Are you going to tell me why?”
Shouyou sighs. He can’t believe Kenma, of all people, is insisting he talk about his frustrations. The tech-nerd would rather bury his head in sand than listen to people talk about their feelings, because that means he has to shovel out emotional comfort he doesn’t have the mental fortitude to provide.
“They won’t be in Okayama city,” Shouyou says finally. “The whole reason they moved out of San Tokyo in the first place was to get away from the city life. A safer bet would be to travel to the smaller towns in the prefecture and ask around.”
Tetsurou cocks an eyebrow at him through the rear-view mirror. “How come you didn’t mention this before we took off?”
“Because Iwaizumi said we should start big and then go small!” He throws his hands up in the air. “I went along with it because it made sense at the time, but I’ve changed my mind. We should be doing the exact opposite!”
“Chill, will ya?” Osamu turns to him from the passenger seat. “We’ll stay the night in Okayama and figure out a route that’ll take us through the whole prefecture. Once we’ve got a solid plan, we can progress from there.”
Sinking further back in his seat, Shouyou huffs. “I don’t see why that should cost us a night in Okayama.”
Leaving San Tokyo cost them more time than they could afford—almost half a week. The more they spend arranging, planning and searching, the more Shouyou is tempted to put his head through a wall. He considered even skipping his obstetrician appointment to save on another day in the city, but Koushi threatened to leave Daichi’s bedside to take him personally to the obstetrician and that was enough for him to concede defeat.
The appointment had an embarrassing start. He showed up with a herd of alphas in tow and the doctor snickered and asked: “Which one’s the father?”
Then she slapped Tooru on the shoulder and said, “Just kidding. You’ve got your scent all over the little guy.”
They booked an appointment for his first ultrasound in five weeks (she insisted on having it sooner, like in the next couple of days sooner, but he couldn’t in good conscience delay their mission any further). He thinks that even five weeks might be a little too optimistic. There’s no telling how long they’ll spend searching for Yuu and Asahi in Okayama.
She prescribed him a bunch of vitamins and gave him leaflets with important information about pre-natal and post-natal care. He intends to read them before bed tonight.
“Fuel’s running low,” Tetsurou mutters, peering into the rear-view mirror and flashing his emergency lights at the car behind them.
They pull over at a gas station in a small town in Hyogo prefecture. It’s mid-afternoon, and the last grips of summer’s humidity stubbornly hangs in the looming shadow of autumn. Nobody else is at the station. A car identical to theirs pulls over, and three alphas and one beta step out of it. Iwaizumi yawns and stretches his arms over his head as Kita rounds the car to unlatch the petrol cap.
The ground gets further away as Tooru hoists him up into his arms. “Oof! You’re getting heavier by the day, Shou-chan!”
He giggles, pecking the other man on the forehead. “Good thing my alpha is strong!”
“Strong in the subjective sense,” Iwaizumi taunts over Tooru’s shoulder, but goes ignored.
“Has your trip been as boring as mine?” Tooru places Shouyou back on his feet. “Because I’ve never been in poorer company. Iwa-chan won’t play any games with me, and those East Side foxes—” he makes a face “—I’ve known rocks to have more charisma. I don’t know why I assumed they’d be as entertaining as Atsumu. Turns out he’s the exception, not the rule!”
He grins, wrapping his arms around Tooru’s waist and resting his chin against his mate’s sternum. “You talk like it’s their job to entertain you.”
“Isn’t it just common sense? What’s a car trip without a bit of ‘I Spy’?”
In better spirits than he was before, Shouyou returns to the car when Tetsurou is done filling up the tank, and doesn’t grouch for the rest of the way to Okayama. It turns out, a city doesn’t have to be a hellscape to earn its metropolitan distinction. The city of Okayama is breathtaking. His nose is glued to the window as they drive past parks and monuments on their way to the hotel.
Never one to miss anything Shouyou does, Kenma says, “Do you wanna go sightseeing?”
Excitement swells in his chest, only for him to then immediately deflate. “We shouldn’t.”
The foot is back again, nudging his. “You’re putting too much pressure on yourself. The stress isn’t good on you or the baby.”
“I know that. But …” he rests his cheek against his fist, looking longingly out at the pretty city, “… it’s not like I’ll be able to enjoy it. Not while Daichi’s suffering in hospital and everyone’s counting on me to bring everybody home.”
“You’re not a superhero, Shou. You can’t be expected to carry all that on your shoulders.”
Shouyou just smiles reassuringly. “It’s fine. Maybe when all this …” He swallows, physically incapable of finishing that sentence. “Maybe we can come back here for a vacation in the future, just the two of us.”
Kenma gives Shouyou one of his tiny smiles. “I’ll hold you to it.”
Once they’ve checked in and gotten settled, the group gather in Kita and Osamu’s shared room to discuss the finer details of their journey. Shouyou reiterates the idea he told Tetsurou in the car, and they single out a few potential towns Yuu and Asahi might be living in on a map of Okayama.
Iwaizumi makes the suggestion that they split into smaller groups so that they can cover a wider area in a shorter amount of time, which Shouyou concurs, but is shot down by everyone else. The Inarizaki members argue that they’re there to protect Shouyou, and Tooru and the Nekoma duo dislike the idea of being separated in case Shiratorizawa are tracking them. San Tokyo is a tangled, concrete labyrinth that you can disappear into, while Okayama is more open and exposed. Encountering them out here would be a guaranteed death sentence if they’re caught scattered and unprepared.
So they play it safe.
Their first place is Tamano, a town south of Okayama. The sleepy suburban village is boxed in on one side by farmland, beachside on the other, with a valley of forested mountains that hug the west of its shores. It’s the first place Shouyou would think to look, since it has just about everything Yuu would appreciate: water for swimming, inclines for hiking, and crops for labour.
They spend three days there, but their search yields no results.
The travel across the prefecture is done in a clock-wise fashion, first hitting pronounced locations such as Takahashi and Maniwa, and then fanning out into the more remote villages. A couple red herrings cost them five days in total if you add them all together. One old lady thought she knew someone with the surname Nishinoya, but turns out she was misremembering the name and they wound up at the doorstep of the Nishimori residence. Another person, a middle-aged man who ran a pharmacy, told them he saw someone fitting Asahi’s description, but when they tracked down the person in question, he was below six foot, wore glasses and had black hair. And he was also in his fifties.
They search for just over a month before they actually get anywhere.
A freshly retired nurse named Yokomichi, who they stop to question in a park in Tsuyama, directs them towards a place just south named Misaki. She says she recalls meeting a couple fitting the description they gave, and remembers only because the alpha had expressed interest in worked as a nurse at the hospital she worked at.
“You could imagine, it raised a few eyebrows,” the elderly woman laughs sweetly. “We’d never heard of such a thing—an alpha wanting to be a nurse. He wasn’t built delicate either. He was big, even for an alpha, with broad shoulders and strong arms. The little beta with him—bless his soul—did all the talking for him. Ha! You should’ve seen it! It was like watching a car salesman trying to convince you that a blue car was actually red!”
Misaki, much like many of the other places they’d been so far, is teeming with picturesque scenery. Shame Shouyou can’t bring himself to admire it. They’ve been searching so long that he’s beginning to think this is all just one big waste of time.
The district clings to the remnants of old Japan. It boasts shrines, temples, forests and farmland. It even has a castle, but it isn’t nearly as grand as the ones they’ve encountered in the larger towns. It’s so rural that there’s only one inn in the whole district. The owner (Chujo-baa-san, she calls herself), gives them her biggest room and makes a comment about how long it’s been since she’s cooked for a group so large. Shouyou figures that if anyone would know if Yuu and Asahi were in the area, it’d be her. He asks her right after she’s done telling them where the bathhouse is located.
“Hm? Ah—you must be talking about little Yuu and his scaredy-cat alpha. ‘Course I know ‘em! Yuu brings me a basket of his leeks once a month.”
Exhaustion and discouragement dissolve in an instant, and Shouyou bounces up and down on his feet and squeals. “Really? Oh my gosh—we’ve been looking everywhere for them! You’ve got to tell me where they live! We’ve got to go see them right away!”
“Now, now,” the woman chuckles, petting Shouyou on the head. “It pays to be patient. I’ve got to make preparations for your dinner tonight, and I’ll need a few strapping young alphas to accompany me to the store. Once you’ve settled, I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
The elderly omega gets her pick of the group: Tooru, because he reminds her of a popular boy she went to school with as a girl; Osamu, because his country cadence reminds her of her grandson; and Kita, because he mentioned in passing that she reminds him of his own grandmother. Tetsurou is thoroughly offended that a beta was picked over him, until Kenma reminds him that he’s being an idiot and needs to get his priorities in order.
While they’re gone, they roll out the futons and clear the kitchen in preparation for cooking.
They return with Chujo’s arm happily linked with Tooru’s as she babbles nostalgically over the boy she had a crush on in high school (“He was such a charmer, with the most velvety voice you’d ever heard. Oh—I could’ve listened to him talk for hours!”). The alpha listens indulgently, being a patient gentleman.
Shouyou moves to empty the bags the beta and alphas heave onto the counter, but Chujo shoos him out of the kitchen. “Go relax! You look dead on your feet!”
Shouyou feels dead on his feet, but he’d never admit that aloud.
The banquet Chujo whips up for them could put catering companies out of business. So much love, effort and detail are put into every platter of every dish, from the sashimi to the egg rolls. As his friends, mate and guard shovel food onto their plates and give thanks, Shouyou is suddenly stricken by a sense of déjà vu. For just a flicker of a moment, he sees Koushi at the head of the table setting down a bowl of seafood broth, he sees Karasuno hooting with excitement over the delicious food, and Kageyama lacing his fingers with his own under the shield of the table.
“Shou-chan?” he blinks, and the illusion is gone. Tooru squeezes his hand, and he looks up into his mates concerned frown. “You alright?”
Smiling, he says, “I feel great,” and squeezes back.
Chujo doesn’t return to the topic of Yuu and Asahi until dinner is nearing its conclusion. “You said you wanted their address,” she says while wiping the corner of her mouth with a napkin, “but I’m expecting Yuu to drop off his leeks sometime tomorrow morning. I’m more than happy to tell you where they live, but if you’re willing to wait …”
“We’ll wait,” Tooru answers for him. Shouyou whips his head around and glares, but Tooru is unfazed. “There’s a likelihood that they are who we’re looking for, so there’s no need stressing over lost time. Take tonight to rest, and tomorrow you can have a proper reunion.”
A protest nearly jumps out of his mouth, but he swallows it down with a bite of beef stir-fry. It won’t do him any good to tell Tooru that he’s right. The alpha already knows that. He decides not to make further comment about it at all, and resigns himself to a quiet evening at the homely inn.
Taking on his mate’s advice, he relaxes in the omega section of the bathhouse with Kenma, and spends the rest of his evening with a book about infant care that he picked up in a bookstore in Kurashiki. As he’s about to head to bed, he’s surprised to find Tooru and Iwaizumi in the company of their Inarizaki companions. He doesn’t catch their conversation before Tooru spots him by the entrance to the dining room and beckons him over for a kiss. “You off to bed?”
He eyes Inarizaki. “Uh-huh.”
“I’ll join you in a bit.” Tooru pats him on the bottom and Shouyou drags his feet up the stairs to the bedroom. Kenma and Tetsurou are already there, the former with his nose against the screen of his console, and the latter marking something on a map.
Settling under the comforter, Shouyou frowns up at the ceiling.
“What’s up?” Kenma asks without looking up.
“It’s nothing.”
Tetsurou packs away his map. “If the lead doesn’t pan out, we should make a pitstop at Kumenan before we head to Mimasaka.”
“Mm.”
The dark-haired alpha looks back at him. “You sure you’re OK, Shou?”
Closing his eyes, he turns onto his side and pulls the comforter up to his chin. “Yep. Goodnight.”
He doesn’t feel a body slip under the covers behind him until two hours later. A hand slides over his distended belly and hot breath fans the back of his neck. It smells of alcohol. Tooru probably knows he’s still awake, but neither of them speak, lulled by the exhaustion of their search.
It’s an early rise the next day. So early that only Chuyo is awake. Shouyou can hear her bustling around in the kitchen downstairs. A rooster shrieks outside, and smaller birds chatter in an autumn tree that reaches towards the window looking into their room. Pastel paints the skies, a clear rising dawn giving a frosty welcome to the day. Shouyou’s socked feet coil, and he considers remaining under the warmth of his mate for a little while longer until he remembers why they’re there.
Carefully untangling himself from Tooru, he heaves to his feet and joins Chujo in the kitchen.
“Good, you’re up nice and early.” Chujo cracks a few eggs in a pan alongside strips of sizzling bacon. “Yuu usually comes around mid-morning, but that man is full of surprises. I checked the front door just to make sure he hadn’t left the leeks and gone on his way.”
“Where does he get the leeks from?” Shouyou blurts out.
“From his land, of course!” Chujo exclaims like the answer is obvious. “Yuu grows all sorts of food on his farm. You can see his rice paddies going all up the side of the hill if you go down the end of the street and turn right—but his leeks are my personal favourite. They give an extra kick to my broth that the ones at the store just don’t have.”
“Woah! Sounds like a big plot of land!”
She nods. “My goodness yes. It’s quickly becoming the biggest farm in Misaki. To think he was just a fieldhand on Ogata’s farm a few years ago.”
“He’s so cool,” he gushes, but is caught off guard when he realises how long it’s been since he last raved about his amazing packmates.
The others trickle into the kitchen in ones and twos, blurry-eyed and disoriented. Except for Tooru, who is just as much a morning person as Shouyou is, all but skipping into the room to peck his mate on the cheek. The only one who doesn’t join them is Kenma, but no one is the least bit surprised by this.
Shouyou is about to hop off the stool and wash his dishes when he catches the sound of a door opening, followed by a, “Chu-baa-chan! I’ve got your leeks!”
Cutlery twangs against Shouyou’s plate as he leaps off his stool and bolts towards the front door, spurred by the familiar voice that tugs at his heart. Tears sting the corners of his eyes as he rounds the corner and sees Yuu kicking off his shoes by the entrance, manoeuvring a crate of leeks under his arm.
Yuu’s head snaps up, their eyes meeting. A loud thudding sound goes ignored as the crate hits the floor. “Shouyou …”
The man before him, hardened and mature, experiences a mix of emotions that Shouyou can only guess at. The one he identifies easily is joy. It sparkles in his big, brown eyes and lights up the rest of his tiny, sharp face. There’s something else there though, a restraint in the pull of his grin and a hesitation dilating his pupils, but Shouyou isn’t given time to decipher it.
In a flash the beta is on him, yanking him into a choking embrace. Shouyou huffs at the sudden impact pulling air from his lungs. Yuu immediately jumps back when he notices Shouyou’s stomach.
“Shouyou! You—you’re—!” Yuu makes a sweeping gesture up and down Shouyou’s body, and the omega grins. “Alright, who’s ass am I gonna have to kick for this?”
“Is the threat of ass-kicking going to be a trend with you crows?” A voice drawls behind Shouyou, and he turns to see Tooru standing in the doorway.
“O-Oikawa!” The beta drops to his knees and hugs Shouyou’s leg. “Say it ain’t so, Shouyou! That guy? This is all Shiratorizawa’s fault! If they hadn’t given you to the West this never would’ve happened.”
Tooru scowls. “You don’t even know me!”
Back on his feet in an instant, Yuu stares at Tooru with a set jaw. “I know enough! Kiyoko-san said she saw you hanging around Norizaki all the time!”
Norizaki is South Side’s red-light district. Tooru shrugs. “And? Has she seen me there recently? No, she hasn’t. Don’t be so quick to pass judgement on me, shorty!”
Now that Tooru mentions it, Yuu does look shorter than what Shouyou remembers. While the two continue to exchange insults, Shouyou uses his hand to compare their heights.
“—why anyone would even consider—oi, Shouyou, what are you doing?”
Whipping his hand behind his back, he grins sheepishly at the beta. “Uh, nothing?”
“You were comparing our heights, weren’t you?” Yuu yells. Shouyou is close to conceding because he can’t think up a good excuse, but the beta slaps him on the shoulder, any irritation gone from his expression. “You’ve gotten taller than me since we last saw each other.”
“Actually, I’ve been taller than you since I was fifteen.”
The beta punches him in the arm with a snort and says, “Good one, Shouyou.”
After Yuu has handed the crate of leeks over to Chujo, he tells Shouyou that he has a couple more houses he has to deliver stuff to, but will swing by on his way back and give him a tour of his farm.
Shouyou is about to protest and tell him the news about Daichi, but the beta leaves before he’s even given the chance.
“Well that was weirdly brief,” Tetsurou comments as Shouyou settles back on his stool.
“It was, wasn’t it?” He looks thoughtfully up at the ceiling, glad he wasn’t the only one who sensed something off about the reunion.
“Maybe he’s just busy,” Osamu excuses away casually. “He mentioned he’s got other stuff to deliver—and didn’t ya say he has a big farm or somethin’, Chujo-baa-san?”
Shouyou isn’t entirely convinced, but lets it go. Ryuu warned him that it’s been a long time. Maybe this is what he was referring to.
As promised, Yuu returns a little before noon with a rickety wooden wagon in tow. Tetsurou decides to stay behind at the inn so that Kenma doesn’t wake up alone, while the rest of them follow Yuu down the country road. Shouyou dances around Yuu at the front of the group; then at a lazy distance away trail Iwaizumi and Tooru; and at the very back are Inarizaki, who take their time basking in the rural scenery.
“Will Asahi be at the farm?” Shouyou bounces on the balls of his feet.
“Naw, he’s busy working.”
“Where’s he work?”
“As a nurse. Since it’s not all that busy around here, he works a couple different places throughout the week. Today he’ll be at a clinic in Kumenan. Should be back before dinner if it doesn’t get too busy!”
“Eh? He finally became a nurse, huh?” Shouyou grins up at the sky. “I’m glad.”
Yuu nods his head. “He really enjoys it, too. All the patients and staff adore him.”
Knowing Asahi’s nature that doesn’t surprise him in the slightest. The alpha is an easy man to love. “As a nurse he must be working around a lot of betas and omegas. I’m surprised you don’t get jealous.”
“Oh, I get jealous.” He crosses his arms with a cheeky grin, like a cat with a live mouse writhing in its jaws. “Which is why I make sure to visit him at work when I have the time—remind everybody who he belongs to, you know?”
Shouyou giggles into his palm. “I’m sure they’re very intimidated by you.”
“Ey, why do you say that like it’s a joke?” The beta reaches over and yanks at Shouyou’s hair. “Since when did you get so disrespectful to your big brother? That shithead Oikawa’s rubbing off on you!”
Grandma Chujo wasn’t kidding when she said Yuu’s farm is on its way to becoming the biggest farm in Misaki. Rice paddies that look like watery steps hug the incline on either side of the road as the cracked pavement peters off into to a dirt driveway. The squeak of the wheels on Yuu’s wagon signal a pair of dogs that come bounding out of a shed, one of them a hulking Great Dane and the other a noisy Shiba Inu. Yuu immediately drops down on one knee to greet them.
Shouyou gasp. “You have dogs!”
“Of course I have dogs! It’s not a real farm without dogs!”
The Great Dane’s name is Rai, the Shiba Inu’s Kumo. They’re very friendly. At least, they’re friendly to Shouyou. The moment they see Tooru they chase him around the driveway until Iwaizumi finds an old bone and throws it into a nearby clearing. Tooru sticks closer to Shouyou and Yuu after that, glaring at the dogs as they jump around Iwaizumi begging for a toss.
They pass a big, incomplete two-storey house with a large blue tarp covering half the missing roof. Across a plot of hoed land on the other side of the property is a one-storey house, also incomplete. The only house that appears liveable is the one at the very end of the drive-way, about a similar size to the one-storey house.
“The farm’s expanding, you see,” Yuu explains, gesturing to the houses. “We plan to move into the bigger one once it’s done, and then rent out the smaller houses to workers we’ll bring on to the property to help with the crops. I’m thinking of putting up a few greenhouses on the other side of the hill to grow strawberries and watermelons. Did you know the government provides extra benefits for farmers with greenhouses? I’ll have bought every piece of land in Misaki by the time the decade’s out!”
“Bwaahh! Noya, you’re like, super successful! I didn’t know you knew so much about agriculture and stuff. The country suits you!”
The beta puffs out his chest. “I knew it would. I never doubted my own intuition!”
But the glossy sheen of admiration he has for Yuu quickly makes way for crushing reality, and before they even reach the porch of the house at the end of the driveway, Shouyou stops. Yuu and Tooru follow suit, turning to look at him questioningly.
“Noya, there’s something—”
“Come on, Shouyou! Let me show you my house!” The beta walks away. Tooru and Shouyou share a look.
Then the alpha rolls his eyes. “Honestly, you crows.”
Yuu leads them into a cosy cottage with a line of rose bushes out the front. The dogs come barrelling in after them, and Tooru cowers behind Shouyou. The beta goes straight to the kitchen to fix up some coffee.
“Can pregnant omegas drink coffee? Or would you prefer tea?” Yuu calls. Shouyou enters the kitchen, but instead of making himself at home he lingers by the doorway.
“Water is fine.”
Yuu nods, not turning to look at him. Shouyou exhales through the nose.
“Look, Noya, I—”
“Here’s your water.” The water splashes precariously in the glass as Yuu hastily places it on the counter, turning back around quickly so that Shouyou doesn’t get a good look at his expression. As he drifts closer, he notices the beta’s white-knuckled grip on the sink.
“Noya …?”
He can hear the sound of footsteps by the entrance, Inarizaki finally catching up to them.
“I can’t go back,” Yuu finally says, gazing out the window above the sink. “I know what you’re going to ask me, and the answer’s no.”
Irritation flares, his shoulders bunching up near his ears. “You won’t even listen to my reason!”
“It doesn’t matter what the reason is. I’m not going back.” Yuu turns around, but still refuses to look Shouyou in the eye. “The day I left San Tokyo I vowed I’d never go back. That place didn’t offer me anything anyway. Here, things are actually going well for me. I’m a landowner and a farmer and I know my neighbours. Asahi has a job that he loves and—and everything’s great. There’s nothing left for me in San Tokyo, Shouyou. I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing.”
The tendon in his jaw twitches and he huffs, but then notices the group standing in the doorway. Iwaizumi coughs awkwardly. “Uh, we’ll just—take a walk around the property.”
Tooru lingers for a moment, unsure of what to do with himself, before Iwaizumi grabs the back of his collar and yanks him out of the cottage.
Once Shouyou is certain they’re gone, he answers: “I’m not here to ask you to go back permanently. I’d never ask that of you. I’m here because—”
“Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” He takes a step closer. “Don’t give you bad news? Don’t tell you something you don’t want to hear? I’m not here by choice, you know. You think I wanted to come see you under these circumstances? You think I went all around Okayama prefecture, walking on swollen feet, only to finally track you down and—what? Have some tea?”
Huffing, the beta marches out of the kitchen. Shouyou is close at his heels, tailing him down a hallway and into a messy bedroom. Yuu swings the door with the intention of slamming it in Shouyou’s face, but he uses his own foot to jam it.
“Move!” Yuu tries shoving him out of the way, but Shouyou stubbornly clings to the door and the doorframe.
“Daichi has two and a half months left to live!” Shouyou yells in Yuu’s face in a last-ditch effort to get him to stop running away from the issue.
It’s enough to stun the beta into letting Shouyou barge into his bedroom. The fight has left him, though, as he sinks down onto the foot of his bed and runs his hands through his hair. What unfolds is similar to how most conversations up until this point have gone: Yuu expressing disbelief that Daichi is still alive, processing the fact that he was tortured and mutilated for years, and that he’s being asked to return to say his final farewell.
By the time it’s all out in the open, Shouyou has settled next to Yuu, a hand on his shoulder. To Yuu’s credit, he doesn’t cry. He just sits there, still as a statue.
“I’ll stay one more night here in Misaki, but then I have to leave to find Tadashi and Kageyama.”
Yuu turns his head, moving for the first time since Shouyou blurted out the news. “They’re missing?”
“They’ve all been missing—well, no that’s not the right word. Separate is how I’d describe it. I left them last because I’m confident I’ll be able to track them down easier than I could with you or Koushi.”
Yuu nods numbly.
After another moment of quiet, Shouyou asks: “I understand drifting apart from Karasuno, but why did you cut ties with Ryuu? You two were so close …”
“I wanted to be free,” Yuu answers eventually. “Life’s not worth living if you don’t have freedom. I was over San Tokyo and its bullshit. I knew that if I didn’t walk away when I did, I’d be stuck there miserable for the rest of my life.”
“That doesn’t answer my question.”
“Keeping Karasuno in my life meant keeping a part of San Tokyo as well. If I didn’t cut ties, its tides would pull me back in.”
He huffs. “Does Asahi agree with you?”
“Don’t bring him into this.”
“Why not?”
“Just don’t, alright!” By Yuu’s reaction, it’s clear it’s a touchy subject danced around in the couple’s relationship.
“What will you do?”
Yuu sighs. “What?”
He repeats the question, then adds: “Are you going to go back to the capital to see Daichi or not?”
“I don’t know. I’ll have to talk to Asahi first.”
The answer isn’t good enough. He wants Yuu to tell him that yes, of course he’ll go back to the city—they’ll leave first thing tomorrow. The fact that Yuu would even hesitate, the fact that he would second-guess visiting a dying man just because he doesn’t like the city sickens him. Especially the dying man who at one point in time took him in off the street, fed him, clothed him, and paid for his education.
Pain cracks Shouyou’s exterior, and he takes his hand off Yuu and scootches further down the bed. “You’re not Nishinoya. You’re not my big brother. You’re just—you’re just some coward who ran away because it was the easiest solution.”
“Shouyou, I—”
He slaps away Yuu’s reaching hand. “Don’t touch me. I bet Asahi has a stronger backbone than you.”
With a lingering look at the beta, Shouyou flees the bedroom before he can say something else he doesn’t mean.
He doesn’t return to the inn, as much as he wants to. He wants to make sure Asahi gets the news, and given the state Yuu is in, he doesn’t think the beta is above withholding the information from his partner. Instead, he busies himself cleaning up the cottage and whipping up some food in the kitchen for the boys (well he starts to, until Osamu comes in and takes over). Not once does Yuu emerge. When Shouyou knocks on his door to ask if he’s hungry, he doesn’t get an answer.
Until today, he thought the beta was above pettiness. Guess not.
As the sun is setting—around 5pm—an old truck pulls up the driveway and sends the dogs into feverish excitement. Shouyou can’t see the driver from where he sits by the window in the front room, but he recognises the silhouette as they step out to greet the dogs.
The news is on TV in the background. Since they came to Okayama, they’ve been keeping a close eye on what’s been happening in San Tokyo. Protests have sprung up in the nation’s capital in retaliation to the lack of culpability held against the Dons, particularly Ushijima. Senator Yachi has been an outspoken advocate for anti-rogue sentiments for some time, but now that the gang wars are directly affecting civilians, her cause has been more broadly accepted by the public.
“… protesters were dispersed by riot police, and are expected to return this coming Friday leading up to the local election. In other news, multiple reports have surface of alleged Night Crawler copy-cats who have taken inspiration from the masked vigilante. So far police have arrested twelve people masquerading as the Night Crawler, but none have been identified as the original domestic terrorist …”
The first thing Asahi registers is an unusual number of shoes strewn about by the door, and then his warm eyes settle on the omega sitting in the armchair waiting for him.
Shouyou snorts at the look on the alpha’s face. “Still haven’t gotten a haircut?”
Asahi blinks, then a broad grin spreads across his face. Shouyou dashes across the room into his comforting embrace. “I missed you, Hinata.”
A pleasant purr vibrates inside his chest. “I missed you too.”
Yuu still hasn’t come out, even though he’s certain he heard Asahi come in. In the meantime, Shouyou catches the alpha up on all that’s happened as they sit at the table in the kitchen. Out of everyone, Asahi is the least surprised to discover Shouyou pregnant. In fact, he even goes so far as to ask if it is his second child. The idea makes him nauseas.
“Statistically, omega strays are eighty percent more likely to have their first child before the age of twenty-one. There aren’t any statistics for rogues since there isn’t enough data to go off of, but I assume it’s a similar number,” Asahi explains.
He eyes him suspiciously. “How do you know all this?”
The alpha rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “I work in the maternity ward at Tsuyama a couple days a week, so I’ve been doing some extra study on birth rates and post-natal complications.”
“Oh.”
“So is it a boy or a girl?”
“Don’t know. I was supposed to have my first ultrasound a few days ago but—” he gnaws on his bottom lip “—I might’ve … hmm … missed it.”
The incredulity on Asahi’s face makes Shouyou a little insecure. “Didn’t you say you’re about six months along?”
“Y-Yeah?”
“Hm,” Asahi scratches his chin in thought. “Do you want an ultrasound?”
“What? Right now?”
Asahi checks the time on the clock and shrugs. “Why not? I’m friends with a few obstetricians at the hospital. I’m sure I could get one of them to perform an impromptu ultrasound.”
“How long will it take?” Tooru asks, placing a hand on Shouyou’s shoulder.
“Not long. Fifteen minutes?”
Shouyou bites down on his thumb. “Is it too much of a bother?”
Asahi smiles and shakes his head. “Not at all. I’ll text around to see if we can get a booking tonight or tomorrow.”
“Make it early tomorrow morning. We’re leaving around noon.”
The alpha pauses, then nods again, not questioning it further.
Once he’s finished, he pockets his phone and finally acknowledges the elephant in the room. “Why’re you leaving so soon? You just got here.”
Shouyou is almost too afraid to tell him, until he remembers Yuu is sulking in his bedroom. He tells Asahi everything—not just with Daichi, but with Koushi and the rest of Karasuno. He talks even when the alpha starts to sob, even when he puts his head in his hands and shakes his head like he can’t take anymore. Deep down Shouyou knows Asahi needs to hear all this; he needs to know everything that’s happened in their absence.
“I didn’t want to cut ties with Karasuno,” Asahi says once he’s finally calmed down a bit, looking more tired than he had returning home after his shift. “It was Yuu’s idea.”
The omega swallows, then responds in a small voice, “Yeah, I know.”
One of Asahi’s doctor friends agrees to give him an ultrasound tomorrow morning. Asahi says he’ll pick him up in his truck and they can go to the ultrasound together. Shouyou almost suggests they have dinner together, but the static in the air tells him that a fight is brewing. Yuu doesn’t even have to be in the room for him to know Asahi’s angry at him. Watching his brothers fight is more than Shouyou can handle, so they say their goodbyes.
They’re halfway down the driveway when the yelling starts. The dogs bark at the commotion from the porch, and Shouyou can hear them still even outside the inn.
Notes:
Thanks so much for all your support guys!!! I really appreciate it!
Chapter 31: Tadashi
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Tooru is more self-aware than anybody gives him credit for. An unrefined sociopath will fail to understand why certain actions are reprehensible, or struggle to comprehend how their actions may affect others on a personal level. He, on the other hand, knows he’s a self-serving asshole. Unsuccessfully, he’s tried to embrace this part of himself as an extension of his own identity, since he got bored with making an effort to reform his shitty behaviour a long time ago.
That didn’t work out entirely either, despite the image he projects out into the world.
Because part of him is hoping Azumane doesn’t show up the next morning to take them to the hospital; and he hopes with this horrible thought by also feeling like the scum of the earth. It’s like the universe refuses to let him be his own wicked self. He has to have useless things like empathy and shame. What kind of fucked god concocted that contradiction?
It’s made worse by Shouyou practically vibrating with excitement as they wait outside the inn. When Azumane suggested booking Shouyou an ultrasound yesterday, he’d had his reservations, but over the course of yesterday evening he’d built up a healthy amount of anticipation and now he’s teeming with it.
If it were over anything else, Tooru would be endeared to his mate’s enthusiasm. But it’s just one of those instances where the looming event sours any other emotion he’s capable of producing.
For the first time in a while, it’s just the two of them. They’d been on the road so long that sharing a space with a group of men became the norm. Moments of secret intimacy were reserved for bathroom cubicles and private change rooms. There was also one time they did it in the caves in Niimi, and because of the echo, they had to stop several times to contain their own giggles. When they re-joined the group half an hour later, they were met with nothing but judgement and eye-rolls.
Since things were quiet, and they were given no reason to believe Ushiwaka sent his people to follow them around Okayama, Inarizaki and the others decided to sleep in and let Tooru and Shouyou “have a family moment” (as Iwaizumi put it) to themselves. And Tooru definitely didn’t have a mini heart attack triggered by Iwaizumi’s phrasing. Not at all.
Shouyou swings their linked fingers back and forth, his breath coming out in tiny puffs of mist.
“I reckon it’s a boy,” Shouyou says.
Tooru quirks an eyebrow at him. “Are you kidding? It’s a girl. And she’ll be a princess, just like her dad.”
The ginger rolls his eyes at that. “They’ll be a princess regardless, because they’re yours.”
“And yours,” Tooru stresses, and hopes the panic hasn’t seeped into his voice.
If Shouyou suspects his nervousness, he doesn’t show it. He continues swinging their hands and humming an annoyingly catchy tune under his breath, basking in the brisk morning atmosphere.
“Even though I’m still angry at Noya for what he did, I can understand why he likes the country so much. I feel so at peace here.” To emphasise this, the omega takes a deep breath in, and then sighs out.
Tooru wrinkles his nose. “It smells like chicken shit every couple of metres and we haven’t seen a proper department store since we left Okayama.”
Pouting, the ginger looks up at him with those big, big eyes and that small, small face and Tooru is instantly on guard. That’s the same face Shouyou made before Tooru agreed to mark him. “Wouldn’t you want to move out here at some point down the line? The countryside is a great place to raise kids.”
“You’re using plurals like you’re expecting us to have more of those things.” He realises the words are insensitive the moment he’s spoken them into existence, but it doesn’t anger Shouyou in the slightest.
In fact, he grins cheekily. “Just you wait, Tooru. I’ll make you into an enthusiastic father—before you know it, you’ll have gained twenty kilos and be attending each of your son’s soccer games.”
“My daughter’s soccer games,” he corrects.
“Son’s.”
“Daughter’s.”
The ginger huffs. “Last time I checked, the baby’s in my stomach, not yours. And I’m telling you, it’s a boy.”
“Oh yeah? Well my intuition is telling me that it’s a girl, and my intuition has never been wrong.” To make his point, he rests his elbow on his mate’s head, something he does whenever he’s feeling superior.
Because everyone knows tall people are better than short people.
Instead of rising to the bait, as the ginger so often does, he snickers, “Except for the time you went without a condom.”
“Damn. He got you there, Trashykawa.” They snap their heads up to see Iwaizumi leaning on the windowsill of the second-storey bedroom, a cigarette lax in his fingers.
“Go back to bed!” Tooru snaps up at him, stamping his foot.
“We would if you two chatter-boxes weren’t waking up the whole of Misaki,” Kuroo chimes in from somewhere behind Iwaizumi.
Just as Tooru is about to retort, they hear Azumane’s truck as it turns the corner. Shouyou jumps up and down, waving his arms. Tooru inwardly groans. Looks like they’re doing this after all.
The disappointment must’ve shown on his face, because Iwaizumi shoots him a look so nuclear that he can practically feel it blistering his skin from across the road. It’s the kind of look that says: “Being an asshole is a choice, and so is beating someone to a bloody pulp. Understand that these two things are sequential and will definitely happen if you don’t man-up and be there for Hinata.”
The blue pick-up slows in front of them. They do a double-take on who they see sitting in the passenger seat.
“Noya!” Shouyou cries, running over to the beta’s side and poking his head through the open window. “You’re coming with us?”
Nishinoya grins, reaching over to ruffle Shouyou’s hair. “Who do you take me for? I’m about to meet my niece or nephew!”
Tooru gives a nod to Azumane as he slides into the backseat. The other alpha smiles at him warmly through the rear-view mirror, and he feels oddly shitty about it. Azumane is the first person who is even remotely okay with him being Shouyou’s mate. Everyone else is either judgemental or upset over it (and he’s more inclined to understand these reactions as opposed to outright acceptance).
“So have you two … you know …” Shouyou shifts in his seat and looks out the window. “Solved things?”
Azumane and Nishinoya glance at each other, then awkwardly look away.
“We’ve still got some things to work through,” Nishinoya admits. “We’re going to visit Daichi, though—if that’s what you’re wondering.”
The omega straightens, leaning forward to grip Nishinoya’s seat. “What, really? Oh my gosh! That’s great! I’ll—I’ll call Koushi to tell him the good news! He’ll be so happy to see you guys, he misses you so much—everybody does!”
“Will …” Nishinoya rubs his neck. “Will Ryuu be there?”
Shouyou blinks in confusion. “Of course! Tsukki too!”
Tooru notices Nishinoya’s lack of response, but before Shouyou can pick up on it, Azumane substitutes the silence. “We can’t leave straight away for obvious reasons. We’ll have to find people to take care of the dogs and the farm while we’re gone, and I’ll have to figure out how many sick and vacation days I have saved at the clinics and hospital. But that shouldn’t take us too long to organise.”
Shouyou nods along, not really listening, bouncing in his seat.
Without thinking much of it, Tooru reaches over to lace their fingers together, bringing Shouyou’s hand up to brush his lips against the back of it. It does the trick of quelling the omega’s unbridled excitement, at least for the time being.
It takes them less than half an hour to the Tsuyama Chuo Hospital, and when they get there it appears relatively deserted for the early morning aside from a few nurses and doctors either coming in for a shift or just leaving a shift (the key difference is that one camp is only mildly tired, while the other is so tired that raising their head requires maximum effort).
Azumane introduces them to Dr Kashimura, a beaming young woman with a Hello Kitty sweater underneath her doctor’s coat. The woman carries herself with a radiant warmth of a kindergarten teacher, and uses fancy words that’d rival a university dean. She acknowledges Nishinoya by his first name, so it’s safe to assume she’s close with Azumane.
They’re ushered down a few halls and into a room with a bed and what looks like a computer screen and a stool.
Shouyou awkwardly sits on the bed, as if he isn’t sure he’s supposed to be there yet, while Dr Kashimura starts flicking on switches and checking the cabinets below the computer to make sure that they have everything they need. Azumane lingers by the machine, prepared to offer help, and Nishinoya slaps Shouyou over the shoulder and asks if he’s nervous.
Tooru should be standing by Shouyou’s side, he knows he should be, but he’s frozen in the doorway, staring unblinkingly into the room.
“OK, we seem to be up and running—no pesky errors!” Dr Kashimura chimes. “Are we ready?”
Shouyou notices Tooru still standing in the doorway. “Tooru?”
“I—” he takes a step back, the air around him suffocating “—I need some air.”
Before anyone can stop him, he’s running back the way they came. The nurses, doctors, visitors and patients pass as if they aren’t even there, and before he knows it, he’s outside the hospital entrance with a phone pressed against his ear.
They pick up on the third ring. “What? Is it over already?”
“I can’t do this, Iwa-chan. Come pick me up I—I just can’t go back in there.”
“Can’t go back in where?” Iwaizumi’s voice drops, dangerously low. “Oikawa … where are you? What’s going on?”
“I’m outside the hospital. Come pick me up.”
“Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”
His breathing has devolved into full-blown hyperventilation. Sweat chills his palms, tiny black dots invade the corners of his vision, and he has the sudden urge to throw up his breakfast.
“I’m not ready to be a father,” he chokes. “I don’t want to know the gender of the baby—it’ll make everything too real and I just—I can’t do this.”
A hand clamps down on his shoulder and he shrieks, whirling around to come face to face with Azumane. The alpha puts his hands up, taking a step back in surprise.
“What just happened? Are you OK?”
“I gotta go.”
“Oikawa, what—” he hangs up.
Leaning over with his hands on his knees, he tries to gain control back in his breathing. “If you’ve come to kick my ass I …” he holds up a finger “… gimme a sec … If you’ve come to kick my ass, I only ask that you don’t hurt my face. It’s the only thing I have going for me.”
The other alpha chuckles and places a soothing hand on his back. “I’m not going to fight you.”
“But you overheard what I said to Iwa-chan, didn’t you?”
“Well, yes, but I don’t see how beating you up is going to solve anything.”
The coil in his gut is loosened slightly by the alpha’s comfort, and they both stand there for a couple minutes as Tooru’s breath stabilizes and he no longer has the urge to puke his guts out.
“It’s natural to feel this way, you know.” He looks up to see Azumane’s face is unchanging. It’s still as warm as ever. “I see it all the time with new parents. Sometimes it’s the omega who’s freaking out, but more often than not it’s the alphas who feels out of their depth. There’s no universal instructions on how to be a good parent, so alphas tend to catastrophise the situation and write themselves off as lost causes before the baby is even born.”
Finding the strength to straighten to his full height, he says, “Y-Yeah? You’re not just saying that to cheer me up, are you?”
Azumane shakes his head. Tooru detects no deception. “Not at all. The nurses leave this part of the job to me since alphas are more open to listening to the advice of a fellow alpha.”
“Oh. You’re good at it.”
“Thanks.” His hand is back on his shoulder, with a gentler touch. “You’re probably focused on the future, and I’m not saying you shouldn’t be, but I find the best road to successful parenting is to live in the moment. Instead of going back in there and visualising what the baby will be, concentrate on just being there for Hinata.”
“But what if I feel nothing when I see the ultrasound? Like—I don’t feel attached to it?”
Azumane shrugs like it isn’t a big deal. “You can’t know until you find out, right?”
Tooru is steered back through the hospital by the soft yet firm hand on his shoulder. When he re-enters, he doesn’t so much as look at anything else except Shouyou, who’s lying on his back with his t-shirt bunched around his chest. The ginger grins and reaches a hand out to him. He doesn’t even seem mad.
Tooru slides his sweaty palm into Shouyou’s grip just as Dr Kashimura spreads gel across the omega’s stomach. Shouyou giggles and comments on how cold it feels. Nishinoya’s stare bores into Tooru from the other side of the bed, and he starts counting each individual freckle peppered across Shouyou’s cheeks.
“What’s that thingy?” Shouyou asks the doctor.
Dr Kashimura holds up the probe in her hand. “It’s called a transducer. It’ll send sound waves through your body and project an image of your womb on the screen.”
“Woah! So like, can you see other stuff inside me with that? Like can you see any other organs?”
“Sure can.”
“Trippy.”
Tooru is up to fifteen freckles when Shouyou squeezes his hand, his eyes fixed on the computer screen. Dr Kashimura hums. “Ah, there you are. You see that there?” She points. “That’s your baby.”
He expects Shouyou to be amazed, to shout and move around like he normally does when he’s happy or ecstatic. But the omega produces a tiny gasp, and then goes completely still. The reaction is so unlike his mate that his eyes shoot up on their own accord to look at the screen. His heart stops.
“Do you want to know the gender?” she asks.
“Yes, please,” Shouyou whispers.
She smiles kindly. “It’s a baby boy. Congrats.”
Slowly, Shouyou reaches up to cup the side of Tooru’s face. The action seems so sudden that he flinches. “Silly. Why’re you crying?”
“Crying?” He lets out an ugly sob. “I don’t know what you’re taking about.”
*
Shouyou calls Koushi on their drive back to San Tokyo. Going against the advice of Inarizaki, Tooru sits beside Shouyou with an arm strewn over his shoulder. The alpha has been clingier since the ultrasound. For the most part Tooru is a quick-witted, sharp-tongue deviant that rarely, if ever, allows his meticulously crafted mask to slip from place, especially in the company of acquaintances. But something about the appointment has peeled away his thorny exterior, letting through a softer, quieter vulnerability that Shouyou only ever sees when they’re alone.
“I know, I still can’t believe how lucky we were,” he tells Koushi he watches the country landscape gradually make way for towns and cities outside the window. “Finding that nurse had been a stroke of luck. I don’t think we would’ve bothered with Misaki otherwise.”
“I never doubted you for a second.” Koushi tries his best to pour honey and milk into his tender cadence, but Shouyou doesn’t miss the subtle waver in his words. “You’re doing so well, Shouyou. Just two more to go.”
He blushes. “Thanks. How’s Daichi doing?”
There’s a thoughtful silence on the other end of the phone, and Shouyou keeps his imagination in check. “They’ve had to up the morphine, so he’s pretty out of it for most of the day. It’s hard for him to hold a proper conversation.”
“I see.”
“No noteworthy complications though, which is good. He’s not getting better, but he’s not getting worse either.”
The tension leaves his shoulders. “I’m glad to hear it. Is uh—is Kei with you right now?”
“Hm? Oh yes, he is. He’s sitting right beside me—” Koushi snickers “—he’s making a cutting motion across his neck. Do you want to speak with him?”
“Yes, please.”
There’s some background banter before the unmistakable deadpan of Kei’s voice sighs into the receiver. “What do you want?”
Shouyou screws up his nose. Stupid Shittyshima! “Good to hear from you too, Kei.”
“Come on, make it quick. I have to pick up bento boxes from the place across the street.”
He rolls his eyes. Good to know Kei has his priorities in order. “We’re going to try and get in contact with Tadashi next. I know you don’t really like talking about it, but I was just wondering why you … you know, why you and Tadashi fell out of contact?”
“I tried to poison his girlfriend.”
“Oh.” Stereo silence follows, and then realisation hits him and he straightens in his seat with a squawk. It garners startled looks from Tooru and the Nekoma duo. “Oh. You tried poisoning Yacchan? The hell? When did this happen? What—why?”
Kei sighs like this is the single blandest conversation he’s ever had to commit himself to. But Kei also acts that way with 99% of the conversations he’s dragged into, so— “I don’t have time to explain the finer details. I wasn’t successful, so it’s not like I did any irreparable damage. The point is: Yamaguchi found out and was upset about it. He refused to speak to me and left before we could work through things.”
A distant colossus appears just as they emerge from a tunnel through a valley, shrouded in the murkiness of Lower Tokyo. Shouyou can tell Kei isn’t giving him the full picture. “Why’d he run away?”
“I dunno. Ask him.”
“You wouldn’t lie to me, would you? Because you know that I have to find him somehow, and if you’re withholding anything from me …”
“I’m not. I really haven’t spoken to him since he left—I found out he was in Hawaii through Tanaka.” The bite in Kei’s voice is his default, but to a trained ear you can taste the bitter undertones. Kei is hurt. It’s so plain to Shouyou now that he almost can’t believe he didn’t notice it earlier.
He replies in a gentler voice, “I’ll find him and bring him home.”
“Like it matters. Daichi forgets we’re even here half the time.”
“Regardless, I made a promise to bring everyone back—Tadashi included. I’ll fly to Hawaii to look for him myself if I have to.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that,” Kenma says from the passenger seat.
“I don’t know. A vacation to Hawaii might be good for you, Kenma.” Tetsurou sends his packmate a coiled grin.
“Your optimism sickens me.”
Shouyou beams, Kei’s mocking like music to his ears. “Love you too, Kei!”
The car tailing them with the Inarizaki members (and Iwaizumi) is practically kissing their bumper as they pass over the giant billboard welcoming them to San Tokyo. Soon after they merge onto the Rainbow Highway, and after half an hour they take the turn off into West Middle Tokyo.
“Who’d you say these guys were again?” Shouyou kicks the back of Tetsurou’s seat, and the alpha shoots him a look through the rear-view mirror.
The incident at Heaven’s Stair has made Tetsurou extra cautious about their accommodations. Hotels and inns throughout Middle Tokyo were swiftly shot down as potential places to stay, since they run the risk of recognition or exposure. Shouyou suggested they stay with Seijoh, but Iwaizumi and Tooru had their reservations. Apparently Makki spotted a car he didn’t recognise surveying their street a couple times, and told them to steer clear just in case.
Which left them with an alternative suggested to them by Akaashi. They’re another West Side second-tier pack, just like Seijoh, but their operations are well under Shiratorizawa’s radar. Tetsurou seems to know them, but isn’t thrilled with the arrangement.
“Nohebi,” Tetsurou grimaces. “They’re not known to the South Side ‘cuz they’re undercover agents. Most of them won’t even be at the house. Least I hope not.”
He rests his chin on the shoulder of Tetsurou’s seat. “Ehh. Don’t you like them?”
“I don’t really get along with their leader,” he admits reluctantly.
“Why? What’s their leader like?”
“Let’s just say if a snake and a rat had a kid, his name would be Daishou Suguru.”
“Their leader mocked Kuro’s height once,” Kenma says, feet on the dashboard with his phone in his hand. “And told him his sharpshooting skills weren’t that good.”
Shouyou whines like a surprised puppy. “But what’s there to mock? You’re like, super tall and you’ve got mad shooting skills! You’re the best West Side has to offer—” Tooru coughs “—aside from Tooru, of course.”
Tetsurou nods along, but scoffs at the last part. “I’m a better shot than Oika’a.”
Quirking an eyebrow, Tooru objects: “Don’t make me laugh. I’ve seen your stats. I could blitz a hole through the wings of a butterfly from across the city without destroying its body. You wouldn’t know how to blow out a car’s tire if it was going under thirty kilometres an hour!”
“Are you challenging me right now, pretty boy?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. It won’t be much of a challenge.”
Kenma heaves a sigh at their antics; Shouyou scoffs. “We don’t have time for your dick-measuring contest. We’ve got crows to catch!”
“If it were a dick-measuring contest, I’d win that too,” Tetsurou mutters.
They park outside Nohebi’s house, and Tetsurou and Kenma get out to canvas the area and make sure there isn’t a stray member of Shiratorizawa waiting in the bushes to shank them. Inarizaki and Iwaizumi join them, but quickly conclude that the place isn’t under South Side’s surveillance.
Using a spare key Tetsurou finds underneath a garden gnome, they enter into an empty home. A message has been left behind by someone named Numai, giving them a list of instructions (like when the bins need to be taken out and where the spare bedrooms are located) and tells them that they’ll be scarce in West Side for the next couple of months. Shouyou and his company will be long gone by then—hopefully.
Tetsurou yanks a note that’s been tacked onto the fridge by a magnet. “‘Fridge’s empty, Fat Cat. Get your own groceries.’ That snake bastard!”
“I was going to go to the supermarket to get more shampoo anyway,” Kita says as he relieves himself of his backpack. “Osamu can come with me, and Rintarou—can you check to make sure there’s washing powder in the laundry?”
“We don’t have time,” Shouyou stresses. “We have to track down Senator Yachi and figure out where Tadashi is!”
Iwaizumi’s firm hand on his shoulder tells him that’s not going to happen today. “We’ve had a long drive, and we haven’t mapped out a concrete plan just yet. I know you don’t like to hear this, but I think we should take it easy for the rest of the day and start our search tomorrow.”
He worries his bottom lip, fingers knotting in the cotton of his jumper. A hand gently pets his hair, and he releases a sigh, nuzzling up into his mate’s palm. Tooru smiles. “How about I draw us a nice, warm bath, hmm? I think that’s just what you need.”
The next day, they slink through Kokoro Tower in their best disguises and, from Southern Heights, take an elevator up to the floor of the Yachi residence. Her address was shockingly easy to find for a controversial politician. Their plans to loiter outside her apartment as Kenma breaks into her private wifi is thwarted the second they turn the corner to find two guards standing erect outside her front door.
Iwaizumi shoves them back around the corner before they can be spotted.
“What do we do now?” Shouyou whispers.
They’d chosen this specific time because they knew the senator was scheduled for a press meeting at parliament addressing the ongoing backlash against the government. It never occurred to them that the Yachi residence would have 24-hour security, but he’s beginning to think they should’ve taken her situation more seriously. Living in the same tower as Wakatoshi in itself is a bold move; it stands to reason that she would have her home monitored, even if she isn’t there.
Still, they have to figure out a way to get into her apartment.
“A distraction?” Kita suggests.
“No time.” Tetsurou’s eyes slide up to the security cameras facing the hallway. “Kenma, are you able to disable the cameras on this floor?”
“Disabling them completely will grab security’s attention.” Kenma slides down the wall and opens his laptop. “Best to freeze the footage so that an image is still projecting on their screens. Gimme a sec.”
Shouyou crouches over to watch Kenma work his magic. It’s mesmerizing to behold, even though he hasn’t the faintest idea of what’s happening on screen. There’s a lot of numbers and codes that are strung together seemingly at random, whizzing across the screen so fast his eyes can barely keep up. Whatever techno witchcraft Kenma pulls though, he somehow gains access to the cameras on this level, seeing with the same eyes as Southern Heights Security.
Kenma’s fingers hover in waiting, and at the right time he screencaps the hallways and replaces the live footage with the still image. It’s not a fool-proof substitute. Anyone watching the footage with a keen eye will eventually notice something off, but they’re banking on security’s inattention.
At least until they get this over with.
“Done. Kuro, take out the guards.”
“I’ll help!” Everyone shoots Shouyou a flat look. “What?”
A vicelike grip clamps his shoulder, and he sees Iwaizumi failing to school his own irritation. “Leave it to the people who don’t have to waddle when they walk.”
Shouyou splutters. “I don’t waddle!”
As much as he’d like to be apart of the action though, he knows that engaging in combat is unnecessary. Kenma tugs him down to the floor and Shouyou fights back a pout. As a compromise, he peeks around the corner to watch as Tetsurou approaches the guards. They immediately draw their guns when he’s a couple of feet from them.
“Halt. You don’t live on this floor.”
Tetsurou raises his hands, cool as can be. “Woah, woah? Things just went from zero to ten. Why so tense? I’m just a guy here to see my boyfriend.”
“All residents on this floor are required to give us a list of visitors for us to identify. You’re not on that list, buddy.”
“Well I—” with the speed and skill Shouyou has only ever seen Daichi wield, Tetsurou pivots until he’s directly behind one of the guards, producing a gun of his own to press coldly against the temple of his victim. “I’m curious, how was Senator Yachi able to get this far without getting assassinated? I’ve seen trees with better reflexes.”
“Drop you weapon!” the other guard yells, his gun pointed directly at Tetsurou.
“Naw, I don’t think you’re in any position to be making demands.”
“You think I won’t shoot?” The guard asks, voice never wavering. “You’re messing with the wrong people.”
Tapping the barrel against his hostage’s head, he says, “Think you should drop your weapon right about now, unless you want to try and shoot me from behind.”
The man’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and he lets his gun fall to the floor. The same can’t be said for his partner, who still has his aim firmly trained on Tetsurou. “Now drop your weapon.”
Tetsurou smirks. “Nah, don’t think so.”
The guard clutches his weapon tighter. “Do it, or I’ll put a bullet through your eye.”
“Bet’cha couldn’t,” he teases.
“Are you so eager to die?”
“Are you so sure you can hit me without hitting your lil’ friend?”
A tense silence follows; both men glare at each other, neither moving. Then the guard raises his gun a little higher, as if preparing to pull the trigger, and Shouyou’s yell gets drowned out by the sound of a gunshot. But not from either Tetsurou or the guard. Shouyou’s head snaps up, gaping at Tooru. He hadn’t even noticed his mate standing over him.
Blood splashes from the open wound at the back of the guard’s hand. The moment his hold on his weapon slips, Osamu and Iwaizumi swoop onto the scene and confiscate the guns. Tetsurou pats them down and finds a key card that he uses to open Senator Yachi’s front door. They drag the guards into the foyer, and Inarizaki are left to watch over them while the rest scour the apartment in search of the senator’s office.
“Found it!” Iwaizumi’s voice comes from the upper floor, and they flock to his call.
Kenma hooks up Yachi’s computer to his laptop using a cable and begins downloading a copy of her personal data. In the meantime, Shouyou does a bit of investigating around the office to satiate his curiosity.
They never came over to Hitoka’s apartment, much like the senator’s daughter was never invited to theirs. Whenever he hung out with Hitoka, the topic of their personal lives was deliberately avoided, the massive shadow of an elephant eclipsing them from behind that they pretended not to see. He could only imagine the verbal gymnastic Hitoka and Tadashi would go through just to shun the mention of politics or rogues. Must’ve been really hard.
On Yachi’s desk is a framed photo of her and her daughter. Hitoka looks young enough to be in Middle School at the most, with a gentle smile and a sweet disposition.
He opens up a few drawers and makes a noise. Tooru peers over at him from the other side of the desk, amused. “Find something interesting?”
“That’s an American stamp, isn’t it?” He shoves the opened envelope in Tooru’s face.
“Looks like it. Is there a letter inside?”
It certainly feels heavy enough. Fishing out its content, Shouyou unfolds a letter and is immediately struck by how familiar the writing is. He must’ve seen it dozens of times pouring over Hitoka’s notes for class. “It’s a letter Yacchan sent to her mum!”
“Does it have a return address?”
He flips it around and deflates. “No.”
“Read it anyway. Maybe it’ll give us some clues,” Tooru encourages, reaching over to ruffle his hair.
‘Hi Mum!
To answer your first question: no, surfing isn’t part of the school curriculum, but you can sign up to a surfing club as an extra-curricular activity. They even hold competitions at the end of semester. They’re super fun to watch!
About university—I’ve got my eyes set on the University of Hawaii. I’m thinking of getting into environmental law, but I’m still undecided. Tadashi doesn’t think he’ll go to university. It’s not like his grades are terrible—he’s actually really, really smart! But he just doesn’t think that it’s his calling in life. No rush though, right? We’ve still got a year and a bit. Plenty of time to figure things out.
Wish you were here, Mum. The beaches in Oahu are so pretty. We’ll be taking a ferry to Maui this weekend to check out a dormant volcano. Isn’t that cool? Maybe when things settle down you can come visit us. I know Dad’s been talking about a vacation for ages, and this could be a perfect excuse!
Tadashi sends his regards and hopes you’re well.
I love you,
- Hitoka’
A date is written in the top righthand corner. The letter was sent over three years ago. Shouyou sifts through the drawers, but isn’t able to find any follow-up letters. “That can’t be the only letter Yacchan sent home …”
“Does it have anything we can use?” Tooru asks.
He shakes his head. “The letter’s too old. They were still in high school when this was sent.”
The moment Kenma is finished downloading everything, they flee the apartment. The guards are knocked out for good measure, and the consequences of their actions aren’t heard of again until later in the day when Tetsurou turns on the TV. They figured their intrusion would attract a bit of media attention, since they love to sensationalise the tension between Yachi and the rogues (Senator Yachi often framed as a provocateur, and rogues as misunderstood antiheroes). Mentions of who exactly was culpable is left vague, though many news channels imply that South Side is behind it. Which would make sense from an outsider’s perspective.
Whenever Kenma engrosses himself in his work, Tetsurou calls it his ‘Techno Mode’. With his laptop brimming with thousands of freshly stolen emails and documents ready for him to browse through, Kenma locks himself away in his room.
In the meantime, Shouyou does some light research on the University of Hawaii. Tooru sits across the dining table from him. The weight of the alpha’s gaze pulls his eyes from his computer screen, eyebrow quirking. Tooru has his fingers laced in front of him, as he often does when he’s deliberating how to broach a topic. Though Shouyou rarely needs to probe their bond for answers, he does so with a rabbit-like curiosity. Hesitance replies.
Deciding Tooru needs his full attention, he pushes his laptop away. “You want to talk about something.”
“I do.”
The table separating them feels like a gaping rift, unnatural and imposing. It’s like sitting down for a job interview more than a casual chat with your mate. He squirms uncomfortably. “It’s not like you to be nervous.”
Tooru tilts his head, his lip quirking in a handsome smile. “Did I say I was nervous.”
“I can feel it.”
The alpha sighs. “I guess there’s no point lying to you, is there?”
“I’d like to think we’re at a place in our relationship where we’re above lying to each other, right?”
Tooru’s smile turns tight. “Right.”
“So …” Shouyou swallows. The tension is nauseating, anticipation of the unknown churning his stomach.
“I’ve decided I’m going to kill Ushiwaka.”
His jaw slackens. “You—what?” Tooru doesn’t repeat himself, knowing Shouyou heard him loud and clear. He takes a moment to process this. “Please tell me you’re joking.”
Their bond is telling him that he’s definitely not joking.
“Are you really so surprised? Before, killing Ushiwaka had been a pipe dream—a fantasy I liked to entertain as I did his dirty work because it allowed me to cling to just a tiny bit of my dignity. But I’m not the same boy who ran around South Side holding petty grudges and partying at strip clubs on Monday nights.” Tooru leans forward, whisps of hair falling over dark eyes. “The bounty made things personal, and adding you and the baby to that equation … Any chance of a normal life we could have is unattainable so long as Ushiwaka lives.”
Shouyou knows this, of course he does. On top of the natural horrors of pregnancy, he also had to confront the harsh truths of his current predicament. Wanted. Bounty. Rogue. Sprinkle that with a dash of anxiety from his mate and he’s got himself a recipe for a psychotic breakdown.
The mission has helped in a strange way.
It’s brought insurmountable stress to his life at a time where he should be taking things easy, but it has also acted as a brilliant distraction from the imminent responsibilities gazing at him from across the horizon.
“But if you kill Wakatoshi,” Shouyou says slowly. “You’ll become the new Don of South Side.”
“That’s how that works, yes.”
He glares. “And you want that for yourself, do you?”
“I want it for our family,” Tooru corrects. “I can protect our family with a Don’s power, but I can’t if I’m just another rogue lackey.”
Shouyou entertains the thought of raising a child in San Tokyo for about ten seconds, and it immediately sours in his head. “I don’t want to raise a family here, Tooru. I don’t agree with everything Noya did, but I understand why he left. It’s too dangerous here. If an average citizen isn’t safe from rogue violence, what hope does our family have?”
“It’ll be different. Our son won’t have the same life we had growing up. He’ll be raised in Upper Tokyo and have everything he could possibly need.”
“I hate Upper Tokyo as much as I hate Lower Tokyo.” Shouyou crosses his arms and scowls. “It’s not the kind of place I want my son growing up in. He’ll be stuck up and entitled.”
“Not if we raise him properly.”
“There’s only so much we can control. Eventually, he’ll go to school and be influenced by his teachers and classmates.”
“Then we’ll home school him.”
Shouyou throws his arms up. “I don’t want that either! He’ll be too isolated.”
“So you’re OK with me killing Ushiwaka, you just don’t want me to be a Don?” Tooru clarifies.
“Yes—I mean no! I don’t want you going anywhere near Wakatoshi. He’s taken too much from me already.”
Tooru snickers, clearly not taking Shouyou’s concerns all that seriously. “You say that as if Ushiwaka has a chance of ever killing me.”
A dangerous look ensnares Shouyou’s features. “You’re many things, Tooru, but you’re not a moron. Don’t underestimate Wakatoshi; it’ll be the last thing you ever do.”
“I’ve already drafted a plan with Don Saeko and the leader of Inarizaki. Whether you like it or not, Ushiwaka will die.”
His gaze hardens. “That’s it then? Your mind is made up?”
Tooru’s eyes don’t faulter. “It is.”
Shouyou gives Tooru the silent treatment for three days. Even though he likes to think he’s above such pettiness, there are rare occasions where Shouyou’s inner child rears its tiny head. If this were an arbitrary feud, as it often is with the two of them, Tooru would be the first person to fold, crawling under the sheets of their bed and whining apologies into his curls.
But not this time.
This idea has entrenched itself in Tooru’s mind; an obsession he’s adhered himself to like a barnacle to the underside of a ship.
“When do you plan to act on it?” Shouyou stiffly askes as he’s scrubbing the dishes three nights later.
Tooru dries with a dishtowel, replenishing the overhead cupboards. “After our son is born. The both of you will be safely away from the city until it all blows over and I’ve secured my position as the new Don.”
He scoffs. “Right. And if our son is short a father and Wakatoshi is still in power?”
“You could always marry Atsumu.”
He throws a sponge in Tooru’s face.
The next day, Kenma emerges, eyes bloodshot and hair horrifically greasy. Without a word, he places a piece of paper on the table where Shouyou’s eating his breakfast, and then returns to his room, where he’ll likely sleep for the next twenty-four hours.
Shouyou’s heart does a somersault as he realises what’s written down on the paper: A Hawaiian address; two mobile numbers; and America’s dialling code.
He doesn’t even wait to finish his breakfast.
Tadashi’s number rings out, but Hitoka picks up her phone after the second ring. “Hello?”
“Yacchan,” he sighs like his prayers have been answered. “Boy am I glad to hear your voice.”
“Um. May I ask who’s speaking?”
“You don’t recognise my voice? It’s me! Hinata!”
“H-Hinata?”
“Yes, Hinata!”
“Oh my god, Hinata!” she squeals.
“Yacchan!”
“Hinata!”
“Yacchan!”
“Hinata!”
“Yac—”
“Shut up,” Tetsurou snaps, rubbing at his tired eyes. Kei’s bad attitude shines through him in the mornings.
“How on earth did you manage to get this number—no wait! Never mind that! It doesn’t matter! I can’t believe I’m hearing your voice again after all this time. You know, when you left Kintsuru I really thought I’d never get to hear your voice again, but here you are!”
Shouyou chuckles, easing against the back of his chair. “It’s good to hear your voice too, Yacchan. How are you? How’s Hawaii?”
“Amazing! I do miss all my friends back in Japan, but things are going so well over here that I can’t say I regret leaving.”
His smile wavers a little. Giving bad news to someone who’s happy is much the same as shooting the sun out of the sky. “Yeah, I’m sure it’s great there.”
“So why the sudden call? Not that I’m not happy that you called! I mean that—do you have a reason behind it? It’s fine if you don’t of course!”
“Is Tadashi with you?”
“Ah! He’s out surfing right now!”
He frowns in confusion. “Surfing?”
“Yeah! Tadashi is a full-time surfing instructor.”
Suddenly, an image pops into his head of a bronzed Tadashi riding along a wall of ocean, his hair rustling in the breeze and a carefree laugh on his lips. It’s not something he would’ve expected from Tadashi, but the thought makes sense the more he toys with it. “Do you know when he’ll be back?”
“He usually wraps up before sunset. Do you want him to call you when he gets back?”
He bites down on his bottom lip. “I don’t know if I can wait ‘til then.”
“It’s that important, is it?” Hitoka says, voice laced with concern.
“It kinda is, yeah.”
“Look—sit tight. There won’t be any way to contact him because he has his phone off while working, but I’ll head down to the beach and get him to call you.”
Relief floods his lungs. “You’re the best, Yacchan.”
She laughs sweetly. “Leave it to me!”
The call he’s been waiting for comes roughly an hour later. He answers immediately. “Tadashi?”
“Shouyou,” the familiar voice of the beta giggles in his ear. “Everything alright? I can’t believe it’s your actual voice I’m hearing right now.”
Shouyou sits on the stone steps in the back garden, the autumn chill a distant thought. Words don’t come as easy as they did when Hitoka was on the other end. They’re bundled and sore at the base of his throat. It takes effort to swallow, and then he says: “No, everything’s not alright.”
Notes:
I don't know why I love the idea of Yamaguchi being a sun-kissed surfing instructor, but I do.
ALSO I KNOW I KNOW KAGEYAMA IS NEXT CHAPTER CALM DOWN
Chapter 32: Kageyama
Notes:
omg FINALLY
Chapter Text
It’s Shouyou’s first time being in an airport. It’s the sort of place he always knew existed, but only in worlds of those orbiting different stars in far away solar systems. To Shouyou, San Tokyo is its own ecosystem, fragmented from the rest of Japan. The reluctant mother to all strays and rogues, and father to the violence and corruption that nurtures them.
A family of four emerges from Gate 6, arrival flight from Honolulu to San Tokyo. The parents are both female, an omega and an alpha, and their children are both boys, about ten and twelve. They aren’t appropriately dressed for the late-October sting, tans still sizzling and eyes dazed from the long flight across the Pacific Ocean. Even indoors they sense their error, and pull their kids towards the toilets to change into something warmer. The process repeats a couple of times as Shouyou watches the passengers trickle through. Minds adrift, feet shuffling, a sudden stop, realisation, and then despair.
He imagines it’d be depressing, coming from a place like Hawaii and ending up here, where it’s dark and miserable. Don’t get him wrong, San Tokyo can have its moments of beauty, just not after all the autumn leaves are gone and it’s nothing but pitiful snow and dead trees.
“They’re taking forever,” Tooru complains. A few weird stares are thrown their way from the people around them.
“Go get snacks then.” The corner of Iwaizumi’s eyebrow twitches, at the end of his rope.
“I don’t wanna.”
Shouyou rolls his eyes, glaring at Tooru over his shoulder. “You didn’t have to come, you know.”
Tooru pouts, hanging off Shouyou’s smaller frame like a curtain. “I know. I wanted to.”
“Stop being a big baby then.”
Shouyou wanted this to be an intimate union between close friends, but the idea didn’t go over well with the others. Airports would be one of the last places Wakatoshi would look for them, but Inarizaki, the Nekoma duo and Iwaizumi were all against letting him go on his own. Tooru had assumed ‘going alone’ meant that he was invited, so it wasn’t until Shouyou clarified that alone meant alone that he actually voiced his disapproval.
So the entire group compromised by escorting him to the airport. All seven of them. In disguises. Because that’s not suspicious at all. This ‘compromise’, in Shouyou’s opinion, is a little more their way and a little less his way, but at the end of the day he knows they’re only looking out for him. It’s enough to make him grumpy but not enough to make him resentful.
He tugs at the strands of his wig, afraid that Tadashi won’t recognise him.
Which is dumb, because he gave a thorough description of his disguise to Hitoka the last time they spoke over the phone.
Just when he’s about to get fed up with waiting, a couple surface from the gate and approach them. They’re an immediate stand-out. Not only are they dressed ready to brave the cooler climate, but their faces are obscured behind sunglasses and masks. The woman wears a hat, light blonde ribbons of silk spilling over her shoulder; and the sun-kissed man has his hair tied back in a low ponytail.
Shouyou almost leaps over the railing, until he remembers his mobility isn’t what it used to be. Tooru ends up helping him, hooking his arms under Shouyou’s armpits, one leg after the other, and then he’s run-waddling to close the space between him and his friends.
The couple meet Shouyou halfway, Hitoka squealing, and they drag him into their arms.
After a moment, Hitoka lets go and steps away, allowing Tadashi to pull Shouyou up to properly scent him. Honey and pine nuts waft around him. As he buries his face further against Tadashi’s neck, he catches faint traces of caramel and pancake batter—Hitoka’s scent, but it isn’t imposing. There isn’t a mark, he realises. Now that he thinks of it, no one has marked or been marked in Karasuno so far; no one but him, anyway.
“Like the wig,” Tadashi says after they’ve pulled away. “Don’t know about the eyes though. I always liked your brown eyes.”
He grins. “Yeah, they look a bit weird, don’t they? Sometimes, I forget I’m wearing them and I get a shock when I go to the bathroom and see myself in the mirror.”
They laugh, Hitoka with a hand on his back and Tadashi with his hand in Shouyou’s hair. It feels like they’re back in first-year high school again, but only for a moment. Then Tetsurou reminds them that they shouldn’t linger. Iwaizumi and Osamu take their luggage to the car, and Hitoka leaves to go to the bathroom. Tooru keeps the others distracted while Shouyou and Tadashi sit just out of earshot.
“Why did you leave, Tadashi?” Shouyou asks, failing to hide the hurt in his voice.
Tadashi is hunched over, his elbows resting on his knees. He gives Shouyou a guilty smile. “Tendou found out about my relationship with Hitoka and things got … complicated. Shiratorizawa were pressuring me to use her to get to her mother, and when I refused they threatened to hurt her.”
Shouyou saddens. “The others didn’t mention that.” Kei didn’t mention that.
“Karasuno didn’t know,” Tadashi said. “I didn’t want them getting involved. They were all going through their own problems and well … I’m the one who stuffed up, so I had to be the one to fix it, you know?”
His eyebrows knit together in concern. “You didn’t even tell Kei, though …”
Tadashi snickers, bumping shoulders with him. “Never thought I’d live to see the day you called Tsukki by his first name.”
He grins. “I’ve changed a lot.”
“I’ll say.”
The grin soon vanishes, replaced by a frown. He nudges Tadashi’s knee. “Seriously though, did anything else happen between you and Kei? I know he tried to poison Yacchan, but …”
“But what?” Tadashi glares at the wall opposite them. “He tried to poison Hitoka, and that’s it. There’s nothing more to be said.”
“You sure? Because it sounds like something else happened that the two of you aren’t telling me …”
Shouyou tilts his head to try and meet Tadashi’s gaze. The beta sighs, untreated hurt, anger and regret at odds on his freckled face. When he speaks, his voice is strained. “We had another fight, the night before I ran away with Hitoka. Some things were said that I … that I wish I hadn’t said. Things I didn’t mean.”
A painful memory mocks him from across the distant plains of his mind, of words hurtled in anger to hide the underlying hurt. He swallows. “And you haven’t spoken since?”
Tadashi shakes his head.
“I’m sorry.”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Shouyou perks up, patting Tadashi on the back. “It’s never too late though. When Kei isn’t working, he’s at the hospital with Koushi and the others. Maybe you can finally talk things out?”
“Maybe.” The beta sounds cautiously optimistic at best. “Have you found out where Kageyama is yet?”
He wilts. “No.”
“He’s the last one you’ve got to track down, right?”
He nods.
“What are you going to say to him when you finally see him again?”
Staring at the fluorescent lights above them, Shouyou stays honest. “I don’t know.”
Four years is a long time, and yet it feels like it shot by him in the blink of an eye. Reuniting with his former packmates (did they ever stop being his packmates?) has been a tangled mess of emotions, because in many ways they’re the same, but also completely different people. Why is Kei taller than most doorways now? Why is Noya so angry? Why is Tadashi suddenly a bronzed surfer god?
So many questions, and so many of them are reluctant to give him answers.
If it’s like this with the rest of Karasuno, he could only stare dauntingly at the thought of what Kageyama will be like.
“It won’t be easy to find him,” Shouyou says. “This ‘Night Crawler’ guy, if he really is Kageyama, the only consistent sightings are in South Side—but it could be anywhere in South Side. And now with the recent backlash, there’s been a bunch of copy-cats popping up and making things even harder for us.”
Tadashi leans back on his hands and claps his shoes together. “You’re the person who was closest to Kageyama—except for maybe Koushi. You know him better than anyone. If you can’t find him, no one can.”
I knew him better than anyone. Shouyou isn’t so sure he’s the ‘Kageyama Expert’ anymore. Would the Kageyama he knew go running around the city in a mask playing vigilante antihero? Probably not, but the Kageyama he knew also had a pack, a family to keep him safe and grounded. Daichi’s disappearance and Koushi’s trauma marked the beginning of the end for their pack, and Shouyou leaving Kageyama behind probably hurt more than he was letting on.
The idiot. He didn’t even go to the bridge to say goodbye to him.
They drop Tadashi and Hitoka off at their hotel and Shouyou calls Koushi to give him an update. They talk almost every day, since it’s the only line Shouyou has to the rest of Karasuno, but lately he’s beginning to dread picking up the omega’s calls. Koushi puts on his chipper charade, and Shouyou matches his mood no matter how sad or stressed he’s feeling, but he’s not naïve. Recently, there’s an audible strain in Koushi’s voice, a guitar string pulled too tight.
He has two and a half months left, but he might not even have that long.
“Almost there, Shouyou. I’m so proud of you,” Koushi tells him, voice soft and tired. “We’ll be all together soon, as we should be.”
Shouyou changes the subject. The task of finding Kageyama clawing his insides. “How’s your mark?”
There’s a pause. For a moment, he thinks he’s said something wrong. “Why do you ask?”
“You’ve been away from Wakatoshi for some time now. I was just wondering if it was having some sort of effect on you.” He picks at a piece of lint on his sweatpants. Then he adds: “You know, because I’ve never been away from Tooru for a long period of time … I wouldn’t know.”
“Right,” Koushi says. “Of course. I’ve grown accustomed to being away from Ushijima for a while now, so I guess the drawbacks aren’t as severe as they were when he first sent me away. I’d say I’m just …”
Shouyou waits for Koushi to finish that thought, but he doesn’t. “Just what?”
“Sorry?”
He frowns. “You were just what?”
“Oh right—sorry. What were we talking about?”
“About being away from Ushijima …”
“Ah, yes. I was going to say that I get exhausted suddenly and I find it hard to concentrate—not that it has a big impact on my day to day at the moment. I’m mostly sitting by Daichi’s side, so …”
“How is Daichi?” he asks with some courage.
“Tired.” Koushi’s voice is distant. “He’s been under all day today.”
The answer makes him regret the question. It could be any day now and Shouyou hasn’t even started on searching for Kageyama. To put it simply: he’s trash.
The second they’re through the front door, Shouyou begins sifting through all the news clips he can find online detailing the Night Crawler’s activity.
Tooru comes into the lounge room with a mug of hot chocolate and makes a face of disgust. “Shou-chan, it’s almost midnight.”
“Daichi could die tomorrow,” he says, not looking up from his computer.
“Or he could die in six months.”
Shouyou ignores that. Tooru knows damn well six months is wilfully optimistic at best.
The alpha sighs, settling onto the couch next to him. The room is dark save for the minimal light filtering in from the kitchen and the laptop screen. They can hear noise in the kitchen as Iwaizumi and Tetsurou finally address the dishes they hadn’t cleaned up from dinner, and upstairs there are footsteps of Inarizaki getting ready for bed.
Shouyou can feel Oikawa staring at his face as he does his work. “Is there something on my face?”
“Am I not allowed to admire my pretty mate?”
He rolls his eyes. “I hate it when you call me pretty. It feels like you’re patronising me.”
Taking a sip from his mug, he reaches out to flick Shouyou’s ear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Shouyou lets the chat peter off as he skims through an article about the copy-cats. The sightings aren’t as detailed nor as comprehensive as he’d hoped. There are names of the wannabe vigilantes, but none of them seem to have a concrete connection to the original Night Crawler. If anything, they’re just a bunch of admirers hungry for the shadow’s attention.
What would Kageyama think of them, he wonders. Would he feel proud to have inspired these people, or would he feel annoyed by their antics?
An amusing image pops into his head of Kageyama awkwardly writing people autographs and responding to their burning questions with blunt, uninspired answers. Kageyama would make a terrible celebrity—at least a normal one, that is. Maybe vigilantism isn’t so bad; he gets all the glory and suffers none of the common pitfalls married to the lives of household names.
If Kageyama is the Night Crawler.
Tooru tucks an orange strand behind Shouyou’s ear and leans in to pepper kisses along his jaw. Shouyou nudges him away, but without any real force; it’s enough to encourage Tooru to escalate to open-mouthed caresses that stray dangerously close to his scent gland.
He recoils with a whine. “Tooru, please. I’m working.”
Even to his own ears, it sounds pathetic.
An arm snakes around his shoulder, a hand resting on his stomach, hot chocolate abandoned on the coffee table. Teeth graze his neck and a tingling tremor shoots through Shouyou’s body. His eyes flutter without his consent, and he knows there’s no point trying to get anything done now. Tooru pulls him closer, and Shouyou shoves the laptop to the side and turns to meet his hungry kiss. The remnants of chocolate sweetens his tongue and he chases the taste, craves it like an addiction.
He throws his knee over his mate’s lap, straddling Tooru at the hips. A teasing purr rumbles from deep within Tooru’s chest, as if telling Shouyou he’d played right into the alpha’s hands. But Shouyou doesn’t care. He cards his fingers through Tooru’s elegant locks and gives in to the intimacy.
“Thought you were still mad at me,” the alpha chuckles breathlessly, hands slipping down to cup Shouyou’s ass.
“I’m not mad,” he half-lies, nipping at Tooru’s jaw. “I’m worried.”
Tooru gives him a firm squeeze, and Shouyou presses against him. “Do you have such little faith in my abilities? I don’t know if you’ve heard, but I’m considered one of the most dangerous alphas in the city.”
“Dangerous,” Shouyou groans and laughs at the same time. “You look like you dropped out of a boyband to pursue a career in acting. The only thing dangerous about you is your ability to have half the omega population willing to kill for your attention.”
Tooru chuckles. “I guess you don’t fall into that category.”
“Nope.”
“Good.” Tooru cups Shouyou’s face, pressing their foreheads together. “I like that you don’t kill. It makes you seem more …” he purses his lips in thought “… pure.”
Shouyou screws up his face and pinches the alpha’s side. “I’m hardly pure, Tooru. A handful of alphas we both know would agree with me.”
“I don’t really mean it in the conventional sense,” Tooru corrects, his other hand sneaking under Shouyou’s sweater to tease his hip. “I just think … It takes a lot of hate to take a life, it’s why rogues are so good at it. We’re born with hatred in our veins.”
Tilting his head, their lips are so close all Shouyou would have to do is sway gently forward. “And you think I don’t have hatred?”
“I know you don’t.”
“What makes you so sure?” He asks, teasingly sceptical.
The hand on his hip climbs higher, taunting his ribs. With his other hand, he pulls back his ring and pinkie finger, and points his other two at nothing in particular. “If you had a gun, and Ushiwaka was standing right in front of you—defenceless—would you kill him?”
“Well, I’d give you—”
Tooru’s thumb presses against his lips, interrupting him. “Would you pull the trigger? Could you do it?”
“I … Yes.”
The alpha brushes his lips against Shouyou’s and sighs, dark amusement heavy in his voice: “Liar.”
*
Finding Kageyama is proving more difficult than their wild goose chase around Okayama’s countryside. It’s nearing the end of December. Daichi’s five months have dwindled down to half a month, and it feels like they’re no closer to finding the final puzzle piece than they were when they originally started.
Tetsurou kicks over the snivelling man crawling across the wet pavement, unsuccessfully hiding his disgust for the man’s cowardice.
“P-P-Please d-d-don’t hurt me! I swear, I’ll—I’ll do anything! I’ll pledge myself to Don Ushijima, I’ll give you everything I have!” the alpha male cries.
He fists the front of the guy’s jacket. “We’re not Ushijima’s dogs. We work for Bokuto.”
This announcement has the opposite effect, sending him into an even shakier state of blabbering. “Please, please, please, please, I’ll do whatever you want! I didn’t know that this was West Side—”
“It’s not,” Iwaizumi says, crouching down to the man’s level. He reaches over and rips off the ski mask, revealing a mildly unfit, middle-aged man. “We’re looking for the Night Crawler—the real one. You got any idea where he might be?”
“I don’t know, I swear—the guy’s a ghost. Nobody knows where he’s going to be until he shows up, and he’s always gone before authorities can catch him.”
This isn’t new information. The other copy-cats have said much to the same effect, only they weren’t as feeble or as messy as this one is. Must’ve thought he was some real top shit, running around in a mask, committing petty crimes on the people who eat, shit and breathe crime. Not so tough under the sole of a shoe, eh?
“We’re wasting our time,” Tetsurou says, spitting at the ground. “The idiot doesn’t know shit.”
Iwaizumi seems inclined to agree, shoving the alpha away. “You’re gonna stop this stupidity. No more running around in a mask pretending to be the Night Crawler. If we catch you at it again, we’ll saw off your feet so you won’t be running no more, you understand me?”
The worm nods, and just ‘cuz Tetsurou feels like it, he kicks the man again and he darts off squealing. Iwaizumi slides a cigarette between his teeth and leans against the wall of the alley, checking the time on his watch. Frustration squeezes Tetsurou’s lungs and he’s stuck between kicking a trashcan and punching a hole in a piece of stray plywood.
What was that now—the forty-fifth copy-cat they’d bullied off the street? How many more beatings would they give for crumbs of information? How many more dumb motherfuckers did they have to remind who owns the streets they walk on?
Based off Tsukki’s testimony, Kageyama is a moron. Even Shouyou was confident they would find him within a couple of weeks—and maybe that would’ve been the case if random people hadn’t been inspired by Kageyama’s cause and copied him. Now it’s like playing a game of whack-a-mole throughout the city. They chase down one impersonator, another three crop up.
There’s no consistency with the copy-cat profiles either. Old, young, woman, man, beta, alpha, omega—doesn’t matter, they’re all hungry for a bit of vigilante justice.
“It’s almost four,” Iwaizumi tells him, the butt of his cigarette glowing as he inhales. “What say we call it a night, and start again tomorrow?”
“We can’t keep doing this. It’s gone on this long and nothing’s come from it.” Tetsurou hates to admit it, but he feels defeated. Even though it was Shouyou that Daichi left this mission to, he’s just as determined to fulfil his friend’s dying wish.
“We’ll have to switch it up,” Iwaizumi agrees. “You got something in mind?”
Staring up at the dewy sky, Tetsurou says, “We could do what we did with that Semi guy—set a trap and make Kageyama come to us, I mean.”
Whisps of smoke vanish in pre-dawn air. Iwaizumi shrugs. “I’m willing to try anything at this point. I’m getting tired of hunting down thrill-seeking brats.”
Tetsurou rolls his eyes. “And Kageyama’s any different?”
“I guess he’s not. The only difference is he knows how to make himself disappear.”
“You lost him once, didn’t you?”
Iwaizumi nods. “When he was just a kid. He somehow ended up in Lower Tokyo and Oikawa and I never figured out how he ended up there—not even to this day.”
One of the Night Crawler’s best tricks is moving between the tiers without notice. Some theorize he has passes that let him move through Lower, Middle and Upper Tokyo without causing suspicion, but Tetsurou has his doubts. Security has been extra tight since the gang wars broke out between East and South; add a typhoon of mass protests into the mix and mobility between the tiers has now become more effort than it’s worth. If Kageyama was moving through the gates, a guard would’ve reported him by now.
“That’s because you’ve never had to figure out how to get to Lower Tokyo without being noticed.” Tetsurou frowns. “It might be a pain in the ass, but we could try and put ourselves in Kageyama’s shoes and figure out a way down to Lower Tokyo without going through a gate. It might give us some insight.”
Tossing his cigarette on the ground and stepping on it, the other alpha says, “Alright, we’ll do things your way. But if this results in me breaking any bones, you’ll be paying for the hospital bills.”
Tetsurou gives a lop-sided smirk. “You got it, gramps.”
The next night they travel along the steep incline that divides the Lower and Middle tiers. In some instances, it’s completely blocked by buildings that go all the way down to Lower Tokyo, but could only be accessed from Middle Tokyo; in others, there’s only a simple rail hugging the side of a busy road.
“He could be using a rope,” Osamu suggests, peering down at the street below—a threatening 200-meter drop. “Could’ve wrapped it ‘round the railin’ and lowered himself down, then when he was done, used it to come back up again.”
The twin wanted to tag along tonight—not for the first time. Guarding Shouyou isn’t as eventful as it used to be, not now that the omega has been pulled out of the action (a decision everyone agreed on except Shouyou himself). Shouyou still helps as much as he can behind the scenes, but with his belly getting bigger by the day, the kid’s become a bit of a liability. That leaves Inarizaki stuck in a house with nothing to do. Suna and Kita are cool with it; Osamu not so much.
“It’s not impossible,” Iwaizumi says. “But not probable either. Where would an eleven-year-old get a 200-meter rope from?”
Osamu shrugs. “Might not have been his original way of gettin’ down there, but it might be now.”
“We’ll go get some from a hardware store tomorrow to test it. For now, I reckon we keep looking,” Tetsurou says, walking up along the road towards a wooded area.
They’ve been walking for close to six-hours at this point. His muscles are aching, but the blossoming winter that is upon them barely glances off his heated skin. What Tetsurou hadn’t expected from this search was all the creative ways one could get down to Lower Tokyo if you really put your mind to it. It seems more thought had been put into keeping people out of Middle Tokyo, and less thought into the reverse scenario. Makes sense, he supposes. The point of the tiers is to keep the poor where they are, trapped in economic stasis. Anyone who chose to live amongst the poor deserved to be there—least in the eyes of the rich.
They get to the wooded area. It does a crappy job of replicating a natural forest. Each pine tree has been planted an exact distance away from one another, and the pine cones, branches and shrubs you’d typically find in a normal rural area are missing, as if someone came along and swept them away.
The road winds off from the incline, but they remain by the barrier, traversing through soil and a blanket of dead pine needles.
“Oi, what’s that?” Iwaizumi spots it before the rest of them.
It’s a break in the barrier, hidden well from public view. The steel has been warped and bent away, almost as if someone has torn it apart. Below is an equally secluded area—a trail of some kind leading off from a park. They examine the tear, perplexed.
“It’s like somethin’ plied it open,” Osamu observes.
“No,” Tetsurou realises, peering over the incline, “it wasn’t plied open—something must’ve crashed into it.”
“What—like a car? There’s no way.” The twin shakes his head. “The gaps in the trees ain’t wide enough fer a vehicle to get through.”
Tetsurou ignores him, turning to Iwaizumi. “How old is Kageyama?”
Iwaizumi shrugs. “Uh—same as Hinata, right? He would’ve turned twenty-one just recently.”
“And how old was he when he ran away?”
“Eleven.”
“So about ten years ago.”
“Yeah … Where’re you going with this?”
Tetsurou points at the forest. “Pine trees take nine years to fully grow. Maybe this forest was planted after the car went through the barrier as a preventative measure, and nobody bothered to fix it.”
“That still don’t explain how Kageyama got down there,” Osamu says.
Tetsurou grins, nodding at the incline. “Take a closer look at the wall.”
Osamu’s eyes narrow. “Yer not gonna push me, are ya?”
“Now what would I gain from that?” Tetsurou grins lazily.
Getting on his knees, Osamu peers over the edge, then after a moment reaches to pat the wall. “There’s somethin’ carved into it.”
“Yes,” Tetsurou says, unable to keep the excitement from his voice. “Somebody carved grooves into the wall so it could be climbed, and I bet if we go down there, we’ll be able to find some evidence of the crash.”
Iwaizumi is the guinea pig, a flashlight in his mouth to help him find the grooves easily. Once he’s down there, Tetsurou and Osamu follow suit. The indents aren’t the easiest to grip on to. If they’d tried this yesterday when it was wet from the rain, he imagines it would’ve caused a couple accidents.
Once they’re down, they kick around the trees a bit until Osamu finds an orange, plastic chip that looks to be from a taillight. It’s not a smoking gun to his theory, but it doesn’t disprove anything either.
“Hard to believe he’d climb up and down this wall regularly,” Iwaizumi says. “It’s a wonder he hasn’t slipped and fallen a couple times.”
“Maybe he has?” Osamu guesses.
“It’s not really practical to fight crime with a busted wrist.”
“The rope theory might not be as far-fetched as I thought.” Tetsurou brushes his fingers along the grooves. “He could be using a bungee cable—ties it to the barrier above, and wraps the other end around his waist. He then uses the indents to climb down and if he slips, he has the cable to catch him before he hits the ground.”
Iwaizumi regards the wall, deep in thought. “It was pouring the day he ran away.”
“Huh?” Tetsurou turns to him.
“The day Kageyama left—it was raining down hard. If he tried to climb down, he probably would’ve fell and hurt himself.”
“Depends on where on the wall he slipped, don’t it?” Osamu shrugs. “If he fell near the top, the tree branches could’ve broken his fall.”
Iwaizumi rubs his chin, eyes flickering from the wall to the surrounding canopy. Even if Kageyama did fall into the trees, it’s hard to believe he would’ve walked away completely unscathed. “Maybe—or maybe I’m not giving him enough credit. It wasn’t like Kageyama to approach things recklessly. It’s not impossible for him to have gotten down without incident.”
They follow the trail until they get to thick shrubbery that they then have to pull out of the way to continue onwards. On the other side is the park they saw from Middle Tokyo, though it’s a bit of an eye-sore up close. What little grass grows here is overwhelmed by the sheer amount of concrete taking up most of the area. The benches and play equipment have been crudely vandalised with spray paint and sharpies, a serpent of barbed wire wrapped around monkey bars and a pit of shards litter the bottom of a slide. They come across a couple of needles, balls of newspaper that dance across the park like tumbleweed, and trashcans left neglected and brimming with rotting trash. Nearby, they see a scruffy-looking alpha getting a blowjob from a beta. A little further away, a lone man stalks along the walkway, his hoodie pulled over his face.
“Yep, can’t say I miss this place,” Osamu grimaces.
It’s a place you either fuck or get high at, and in either case you probably wouldn’t notice the rock-climbing wall, even if you found the obscure trail.
The hooded man breezes past the alpha getting a blowjob, and that’s when Tetsurou stops in his tracks. As he heads in their direction, his appearance sharpens into focus. Even with his head down, Tetsurou can tell the man has a piece of black fabric pulled up past his nose and a duffle bag swaying at his hip. The mask is nothing like the ones they’ve seen previously (copy-cats either wore plastic ones purchased from party shops and spray-painted black, regular masks you could get at any convenient store, or just plain old ski masks). It’s enough to give him pause.
As he draws even closer, he can pick up on even more details: the tufts of black hair peeking out from the hood; the pheromones of an agitated alpha; and the strong yet lean physique that matches the public description of the original Night Crawler—and striking a resemblance to a certain Kageyama Tobio.
Iwaizumi and Osamu, who are walking on ahead, pass the stranger first. The hooded alpha’s footsteps falter for just a moment, head turning ever so slightly in Iwaizumi’s direction, and it’s all the confirmation Tetsurou needs.
The man approaches, and Tetsurou waits until he’s within reach to tackle him.
The guy is prepared, his duffle bag hitting the concrete as he strikes a blow to the side of Tetsurou’s neck, but Tetsurou has seen that move hundreds of times before and he deflects effortlessly. A grin plays on Tetsurou’s lips as he matches each of the hooded man’s attacks. At some point he manages to yank his hood down, revealing a head of jet-black hair. Iwaizumi and Osamu move to interfere, but Tetsurou stops them with a hand.
“Nah, I got this,” he says with mirth dripping in his voice.
Blue eyes narrow in his direction. Instead of coming at him again, like Tetsurou hopes, the guy eases out of his fighting stance. “You’re Kuroo Tetsurou.”
It’s said as a statement, not a question, but he answers anyway with his chest puffed. “I am.”
“You trained with Daichi.”
“I did.”
Finally, the younger man pulls down the fabric to reveal the rest of his face. “What are you—” he pauses and glares at Iwaizumi “—and you, doing here?”
Osamu coughs. “I’m here too.”
“We’ve been looking for you for months,” Iwaizumi says, but it’s a mistake—Kageyama immediately steps back. “You’re not an easy guy to track down.”
“Really? Sorry to have wasted your time then.” The crow scoops up his bag and side-steps them. He continues on casually, as if they weren’t worth his time
Iwaizumi blinks, incredulous. Then anger darkens his sharp features. “Hey—you can’t just—”
“Hinata Shouyou sent us,” Tetsurou calls, mischief gone from his voice. Kageyama stills. “He wants to talk to you.”
The kid’s head tilts ever so slightly, but doesn’t quite peer over his shoulder at them. “Is that so? Why would he want to talk to someone like me?”
“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” They can’t see Kageyama’s expression, it’s hidden in shadow. Then Tetsurou adds for good measure: “Think real hard about your next answer, kid. Shouyou isn’t the only person I promised to bring you home, and letting you go isn’t an option. You either come with us willingly, or I kick your ass and drag you to Shouyou. The choice is yours.”
Kageyama releases a dry laugh, the first speck of emotion he’s shown, and it’s cruel and brewing with emptiness. “He wants to see me that bad, does he? Couldn’t imagine why. Four years and it’s only now he’s come looking for me.”
“A lot has happened in that time,” Iwaizumi says. “He’s been through a lot.”
“He’s been through—oh fuck off. I’m not in the mood for this right now.” As Kageyama marches away, Tetsurou shoots a glare at Iwaizumi over his shoulder before jogging after the kid.
Tetsurou slaps a hand on his shoulder, clamping down hard enough to bruise. “That’s far enough. You’re coming with us.”
“Like hell—” Kageyama spins around, elbow raised to hit him.
Tetsurou blocks and delivers a shallow but quick blow to the younger alpha’s face. It’s so fast Kageyama can’t react, and the shock sends him stumbling backwards. Before he can regain composure, Tetsurou slams a foot to his stomach. Kageyama falls on his ass and doubles over at the same time, but Tetsurou’s not finished. He kicks his ribcage, but the crow has the reflexes to snatch his foot and try to twist it. The unnatural angle hurts but it’s a clumsy job—no sprains or clean breaks—and he wrenches free before Kageyama can do any serious damage.
Their eyes meet, rage brimming in his cool blue eyes, and Tetsurou doesn’t bother with ‘the easy way or the hard way’ speech he has on the tip of his tongue. Hard way it is then.
The kid goes for the tackle, and just as arms lock around his hips he uses the momentum to slam Kageyama onto his back. The wind gets knocked out of him and he coughs and splutters. If it were a normal fight, he’d have slipped in a few taunts and waited for the other alpha to rise back up to his feet, but it’s not a normal fight.
Flipping him onto his stomach, Tetsurou twists an arm behind Kageyama’s back and keeps a firm grip on the back of his neck. He adds a knee to the small of his spine when the alpha writhes and tries to buck him off. “Oi, oi—cut it out will ya? I’m not like Ushijima’s goons. You may be Daichi’s former student, but I trained under Daichi’s master. So chill out and keep the rest of your dignity. I don’t want it.”
Kageyama doesn’t listen. He continues to struggle, even as Osamu is binding his wrists and ankles, and at one point tries to bite Tetsurou’s ear off which—if Iwaizumi hadn’t smacked Kageyama in the mouth—he would be missing a chunk of flesh.
They can’t climb back up the wall with Kageyama, so they call for Suna to come pick them up. It takes a while. As they wait, Kageyama attempts to crawl away a total of six times, but it isn’t much of a challenge when all the kid can manage is a poor imitation of a caterpillar.
When Suna finally pulls to the curb, dawn is breaking over the horizon and Tetsurou is already fed up with Kageyama’s rabid behaviour. They gag him and dump him in the trunk, because he doesn’t have an ID and he doesn’t trust the kid to play it cool in front of the guards.
Just before Tetsurou closes the trunk, he tells Kageyama, “If you alert the guards as we’re passing through the gate, not even my life-long friendship with Daichi will stop me from stealing your kneecaps. So be a good boy, hm?”
He doesn’t give Kageyama the luxury of letting his glare hold any weight as he slams the trunk down, engulfing him in utter darkness.
*
The anger has time to fester throughout the car ride to wherever they are taking him. Kageyama can’t pin point exact what angers him, but he assumes it’s a combination of things: for one, being so easily taken down by Kuroo fucking Tetsurou; seeing Iwaizumi’s stupid face again; the very mention of Hinata’s name; and also being stuffed into a trunk with the car’s interior rattling his head.
He tries his best to concentrate on the different sounds happening outside the car—the texture of the gravel beneath the tires. He can tell they’ve pulled onto a highway when the rattling eases into a steady humming.
Then they slow to a stop. Voices are heard outside the car. It must be a checkpoint.
For a moment, he considers slamming his feet against the roof of the trunk to alert the guards. He doesn’t think Kuroo’s threat holds any bite behind it. At the most he might get a fist to the face, and it almost seems worth it for the trouble. He doesn’t, though. As much as he loathes to be in this situation, part of him wants to see how things play out. It’s certainly a change of pace from his usual routine, and he doubts he’s in any kind of danger. Kuroo is West Side, and so is Iwaizumi now too—and if he’s not mistaken, he’s pretty sure the other guy is one of Don Tanaka’s lapdogs. They’d have no reason to cause him serious harm.
At least, he doesn’t think so.
The guards mustn’t be doing their jobs properly, or are just too tired to care at this hour in the morning, because the car moves on without the trunk being searched. Idiots.
He suffers through nausea for another hour or so—there’s more noise outside, so that must mean the city is waking up. The car stops again, this time for good, the engine cutting and leaving Kageyama with only the sound of his own breathing in the dark.
Then the trunk opens, morning light assaulting his eyes.
Kuroo smirks. “Congratulations! You get to keep your kneecaps. Have a nice nap, did you?”
He scowls. “Like I’d ever let my guard down. I’m not an idiot.”
“Really?” He yanks Kageyama out of the car and he struggles to find footing on his bound ankles. “That’s not what Kei said.”
Surprise silences whatever retort Kageyama has ready. Did Kuroo just refer to Tsukishima—using his first name? That’s a development he hadn’t expected.
Kuroo drags him across the road, past the gate of a nice two-storey house that blends in well with the rest of the nice two-storey houses that are littered throughout the Middle Tokyo neighbourhood. The grass out the front is a bit wild, in need of a good cut, and the iron flap fastened to the front door chokes on a stack of neglected letters. Even crossing from the car to the house, their eyes dart about for any sign of trouble, which Kageyama finds a bit suspicious.
Kuroo has no qualms letting him fall over the moment they’re through the door. He hits the floorboards, but makes sure to have his shoulder take most of the impact. “Oops. Sorry kid.”
The house is silent as Iwaizumi, Kuroo and Osamu take off their shoes and hang up the jackets. Kageyama eyes the amount of shoes that line the tiled square boxed around the front door; it’s a similar amount you’d find in a pack household.
They drag him into a kitchen area and prop him up in a chair. “Are you gonna be good, or are you gonna cause trouble?” Kuroo asks, folding his arms over his chest.
“If I cause trouble?” he growls.
“I’m gonna tie you to this chair and take a nap.”
Kageyama cocks an eyebrow. “And if I’m good?”
“I’ll untie you and make some breakfast.”
He takes his time considering both options. Kuroo falls into the chair opposite him, catching an eye-watering yawn with his palm. Before he can come to a resounding decision though, Iwaizumi sits in the chair adjacent and says: “Go to bed, Kuroo. I’ll stay up and watch over him.”
“Nah, that’s not fair.”
“I insist.”
“Well, why you two figure things out, I’m goin’ to bed,” the third guy—Osamu—announces without a hint of guilt. “Have fun with him. He seems like real good company.”
He’s not sure what Osamu means by this, but before he can question him the man is gone. If he had less pride, he would’ve begged Kuroo to stay. The last person he wants to be left alone with is Iwaizumi—actually, that’s not true, he’s the second last person—in comparison Nekoma’s leader doesn’t seem all that bad.
But Kuroo relents, rising like a zombie from his chair. “Alright, I guess I’ll go to bed. The others will be up soon, so hopefully you won’t have to stay up for much longer.”
Iwaizumi nods, waving the other alpha off as he shuffles through the door towards the staircase. Kageyama listens to the squeak of each stair as Kuroo scales them, avoiding Iwaizumi’s gaze.
The older alpha doesn’t speak until the noises from upstairs cease completely, and the house embraces the morning quiet once again. “Hinata and the others will be up soon, and he’ll explain everything. But before that—I figured I’d give you a head’s up so that you don’t have one of your freak-outs.”
Anger itches the back of his neck. “I don’t have freak-outs!” he snaps defensively.
Iwaizumi puts his hands up. “Hey, I’m doing you a favour. So just listen, alright? Oikawa’s here and—”
“Oikawa’s here? Why?”
“Just calm down—”
“I’m completely calm!” he yells, then winces as his voice carries through the sleepy walls. There’s a pause, both holding their breaths to see if his outburst woke anybody up. There’s nothing. Kageyama relaxes. “As I was saying, I’m completely calm. Tell me why the fuck Oikawa is here.”
“Well …” Iwaizumi scratches his chin. “Oikawa is here because Hinata is here.”
Kageyama’s eyes narrow. “Explain.”
“Oikawa is Hinata’s mate.” There’s a visible wince that follows, either from him or Iwaizumi or both—he’s not sure.
Kageyama stares. He stares and he stares, waiting for the punchline. But it never comes. A wave of searing hot rage builds inside him, but it rises so abruptly that he goes mute, unable to string up even a grunt in response.
“And Hinata is pregnant—with Oikawa’s child.”
“Pregnant!” He roars, and well, yep—that does it.
There’s noise up above, a chorus of doors swinging open, footsteps thudding against the floors and voices hissing to each other. But Kageyama just sits there, unable to bring himself to care that he just woke up half the household. The blood coursing through his ears deafens him to his surroundings, makes him numb to it. All that’s left is the crushing pain in his chest that has him folding over in his seat, worse than any physical injury he’s ever copped.
The stairs squeak, the whispers getting louder. Kageyama thinks he might be sick.
“Iwa-chan?”
It would’ve been wiser not to look, to close his eyes and pretend it’s a sick dream. But that insufferable voice, charming and evil, that rears his head in the direction of the doorway. There Oikawa stands, blurry-eyed and effortlessly perfect, fitting his oversized t-shirt and boxers in a way that’d put underwear models out of work.
A tuft of orange pops out from behind him, bottomless pools of chestnut taking his breath away. He sweeps over that cherub face, that little button nose and those angel’s lips that used to sigh against his own in the dead of night when no one was watching.
But the radiant illusion breaks when his eyes stray from face to body, and he recoils in betrayal. It’s not the body he knows, not the one he’s familiar with.
“You found Tobio-chan,” Oikawa breathes with—relief? That doesn’t sound right.
Hinata crosses the short distance between them, pulling him into a hug. The stomach bumps against him, and he almost twists away in disgust, if not for the waft of baked cookies and milk that sweetly guides him back down to civility.
There’s no rain outside the window, but a storm beats down on the roof. His eyes meet with Oikawa’s, in place of his usual smugness, he sees only pity.
Bitterness hits the back of his throat as reality slips under his skin. He has a bad feeling this is only the beginning, that he’s been fed the entrée and the main course is being prepared somewhere hidden from sight.
Chapter 33: Fixing Bridges
Notes:
(See the end of the chapter for notes.)
Chapter Text
Kei swings by the hospital after work to find most of Karasuno already there. When he started visiting Sawamura at the hospital, he would take a detour to his apartment first to shower, change and eat something beforehand. But those were early days, back when Sawamura could still speak in full sentences without falling asleep halfway through. It’s not like that now. Each hour is a balancing act, and they all hold their breaths in dread, waiting for the inevitable.
Sterile air envelops him as he steps through the automatic doors, tile turning to green and black carpeting under his shoes. Familiar faces nod or smile in his direction. They’re so used to Sawamura’s packmates visiting by now that they know them all by name. On more than one occasion he’s been drawn into a conversation with one of the nurses, either checking up on his emotional state or asking if they can get him anything. Kei finds it hard to understand. Why do they even care? It’s not their job to fuss over people who aren’t their patients, is it?
He passes Tanaka, Azumane and Noya in the cafeteria. They give him a brief update so he can mentally prepare himself, but from the sounds of things Sawamura’s condition is much the same as it was yesterday.
There’s a weird vibe around the trio that’s been there since Azumane and Noya arrived. Kei doesn’t know why and he doesn’t care to ask, he just wishes they’d get over whatever’s bugging them or at the very least leave it outside the hospital.
But he realises how much of a hypocrite he is when he enters Sawamura’s room and sees Yamaguchi arranging a bouquet of flowers in a vase by the table in the corner. Sugawara is also there, bent over the side of Sawamura’s bed with his face buried in his arms.
“Where’s your girlfriend,” he sneers quietly, volume lower than the steady beeping of Sawamura’s heartrate. He dumps his briefcase on an empty chair and loosens his tie.
Yamaguchi smiles. That’s what he always does, even when he’s mad, even when he’s upset—he smiles. Just like Sugawara and Hinata. Ugh. Why does no one in this pack function normally?
“She’s visiting her mother,” Yamaguchi whispers, taking a step back to admire the flowers. “She should be back by tomorrow.”
Kei has nothing to say to that. Yachi is a grown-ass woman, she can do what she pleases. If she wants to spend time with her radioactive mother in the midst of a gang war then that’s her choice. Not that he cares—he doesn’t. His eyes fall to Sugawara, the tight knot in his shoulders relaxing. Then he notices he’s still in the same clothes he wore yesterday … and the day before that.
“You been here all day?” He picks up the clipboard attached to the foot of Sawamura’s bed and reads over the logs left by the doctors and nurses that’ve passed through. It’s almost identical to yesterday’s logs, like clockwork.
Yamaguchi turns and leans against the table, eyes fixed on the creases of Sawamura’s bed. “Yeah, I got here bright and early this morning.”
“Was Sugawara here when you arrived?”
“Yeah.”
“Has he left Sawamura’s side at all?”
“Once or twice, to go to the bathroom.”
Kei releases a long, indignant sigh. Since Hinata retrieved Sugawara, the omega has been staying at his apartment—if you could really call it that. Mostly, it’s just a place for Sugawara to bathe, eat and recharge before coming back to the hospital, but lately he hasn’t even been doing that. The omega is anchored here. If it weren’t for Karasuno hounding him to take care of himself, Sugawara wouldn’t leave the hospital at all.
“I told him to go shower back at mine.” Lies come easily to Sugawara whenever it comes to his own health. It’s just so much simpler to accept the lies when they’re laced with mellifluous reassurances. Wasn’t it you, Sugawara, that taught us not to lie?
“I tried to get him to go for a walk around the hospital, but he didn’t want to leave in case Daichi woke up and needed something.”
“Sawamura hasn’t been awake in days.”
Yamaguchi bites his lips. “I know. I think he’s still holding out on the hope that Daichi will get better.”
“Can I …” he eyes Sugawara and Sawamura “… Can I talk to you for a second?”
Yamaguchi crosses his arms, amusement toying his lips. “We are talking.”
He rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”
The beta considers for a moment, and then shrugs. “Alright. As long as we don’t go outside. Two months and I’m already done with this city.”
Two men are posted outside Sawamura’s hospital room: a tall, half-Russian behemoth named Lev; and a man afflicted with the same Tiny Syndrome as Hinata and Noya named Yaku. They’re Nekoma rogues. Before all of this, the only ones he could name were Kuroo and Kenma, now he knows every member of Nekoma along with their preferred nicknames, their favourite foods and what kind of music they like listening to—all without Kuroo’s influence, mind you. It can get pretty boring around here, so conversations are bound to spring up amongst the two packs.
Occasionally, a member of Fukuroudani will show up if no one else is available, but very rarely.
“Heard anything from Shouyou?” Lev perks up as they step out.
Yaku whacks the silver-haired beta upside the head. “Leave it alone, will you? If there’s been a development, they’ll tell us.”
Lev pouts, sinking down in his seat, his long legs creating a tripping hazard in the corridor.
There’s a private sitting area on the second floor of the building. The couches are far enough apart that you won’t run the risk of your conversation being overheard. Not that it mattered.
Stuffing his hands into his pockets, he waits patiently for Yamaguchi to sit down next to him. The beta is quiet, watching him carefully.
“It’s not right being here when there’s still stuff between us. It takes away from Sawamura and the rest of the pack,” he says, to the point. There’s a crack in the paint on the wall opposite them that he fixes upon. “I’m sick of it. I’m sick of the feeling I get whenever someone mentions your name. I want it gone.”
He’s not looking directly at Yamaguchi’s face, but he can feel his stare blistering his right cheek. “Oh, sorry to have inconvenienced you, Tsukki. Heaven forbid someone makes you feel something.”
Kei closes his eyes. “That’s not what I meant—you know that.”
“Do I? Why do you always assume I know. I’m not a goddamn mind reader.”
“This—” he huffs “—I only meant we should clear the air. I can’t focus my energy on the pack when my mind’s still stuck thinking about how we left things four years ago.”
“Why? Do you need me to refresh your memory? You tried poisoning my girlfriend and then played it off like you had nothing to do with it—then when I found out through Tendou, you still denied it. If you had something to say, why didn’t you say it four fucking years ago before I got on a plane to Hawaii?” Yamaguchi has every right to be annoyed, but irritation crawls up inside Kei’s throat anyway.
“I’m sorry. Is that what you want to hear?”
He turns in time to see Yamaguchi reel back, jaw twitching. “Thanks for the insincere apology, I’ll be sure to shelve it next to all the other times you apologised and didn’t mean it. But I’m not even the one you should be apologising to. I don’t know how many times I have to get this through to you before you understand: you owe Hitoka an apology. She’s the one you almost poisoned and—need I remind you—you ended up poisoning her friend. Emi’s been in and out of therapy and she won’t even talk to Hitoka anymore because of what happened.”
Rolling his eyes, he says, “What? So you want me to send a letter to her friend begging for forgiveness too?”
Yamaguchi shakes his head. “Oh Tsukki, you really—” he laughs bitterly “—there’s really no level you won’t sink to, is there?”
He swallows and looks away. There’s an elderly couple on the adjacent couch, one of them hooked up to an IV drip, their eyes closed with content. “I don’t see the point in apologising to Yachi. She still doesn’t know, right? That the poison was intended for her?”
“Does it matter whether she knows or not?”
“Um, yes?”
“Tsukki …” The tone is laced with disappointment, so potent and visceral that it makes Kei flinch. It takes a lot for Yamaguchi to be disappointed in someone—he put up with him for years and not once had he heard such a tone used against him.
He rubs the bridge of his nose where his glasses have pinched the skin. “Fine … fine. I’ll apologise to Yachi tomorrow.”
Yamaguchi relaxes in his seat, the hard lines of his expression smoothing out in what Kei hopes is satisfaction. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he says, voice firm but with just a touch of gentleness that gives Kei all the motivation he needs to uphold his promise.
There are many people he’d willingly lose if he had the chance, but Yamaguchi isn’t one of them.
The atmosphere lightens. Yamaguchi knocks his shoes together and stretches his arms over his head. “I missed you, you know.”
Kei shrugs. “You said you missed everyone.”
“Yes, but I missed you, as in—I missed my best friend. I lost you before I lost anyone else.”
He supposes that’s true. For the longest time, he blamed his broken friendship on Yachi, chalking it down to a high school romance out to sabotage the only constant thing in Kei’s life. Deep down he knew he was oversimplifying a complex situation, that a strain had already taken root in the form of Shiratorizawa, and that the hopelessness left them agitated and spiteful.
A smile touches his lips and he looks away. “Hm.”
“So,” Yamaguchi scootches closer, wiggling his eyebrows, “now that we’re talking again, are you going to give me the deets on your new boy toy?”
Heat spreads like a rash up his neck. “Don’t call him that. Also—who the fuck told you?”
The smile on Yamaguchi’s face is sly enough to give said ‘boy toy’ a run for his money. “Inuoka let it slip the other day. Apparently he’s smitten with you.”
“Lies. He’s just a friend—not even a friend. We have coffee sometimes.”
“Oh, I hear you’re doing a lot more than that.”
He can’t rationalise how his glasses grow foggy and an uncomfortable itch tortures his nape, but he tries to keep his cool all the same. “No comment.”
“I met him you know—at the airport. But he was in disguise so I guess I didn’t get a great look at him. Handsome though. Always knew you liked the tall ones.”
He shrugs. “Why should I bend down for short people? They don’t have rights.”
Yamaguchi leaps to his feet, face flush with mischief. “I’m telling Yaku you said that!”
Kei glares. “Don’t.”
“Too late!”
He makes a grab for the beta, but he dances out of his reach. He ends up chasing Yamaguchi through the hospital, ducking around nurses and patients, their laughs carrying down the corridors. It’s as if the rift brought on by time and distance was never there.
And Kei allows himself this tiny piece of happiness, just for the moment.
*
Ryuu is complaining about the burnt rice in the cafeteria when Yamamoto finds them. He doesn’t really know how to describe his friendship with the Nekoma rogue, it just flourished—as natural as a flower that blooms in spring. He knew the guy around school. They were in the same year level but they didn’t share classes. After graduation, Yamamoto started doing a lot of diplomacy between the East and West territories (and by ‘diplomacy’, he means the guy can hold his alcohol enough to impress his stupid sister). That’s how they got to know each other.
They bonded over many things, but the foundation of their friendship is built primarily upon the respect Yamamoto has for Ryuu’s dating skills. Specifically, his luck in having Kiyoko as a wife.
Yamamoto slaps him on the shoulder, interrupting his rant. Noya and Azumane look up, their faces questioning. His friend grins. “You up for a smoke?”
Ryuu snorts. “Aren’t you on roof duty tonight? Why d’you need an excuse to smoke?”
“Aw, but I’m up there all alone—it’s just not the same! Come on—your packmates can come too.”
The three of them simultaneously grimace. They pivot around the idea of still being packmates, and no one in Karasuno dares breathe it aloud—except for Sugawara anyway, but correcting him is the emotional equivalent to drowning kittens so they steer clear of that altogether. Ryuu still views them all as packmates, but god knows where everyone else stands on the issue. It’s a can of worms that he’d rather throw into the ocean than even consider opening.
Azumane clears his throat and smiles. “I think we’re in need of some fresh air anyway.”
Yamamoto claps his hands. “Great, let’s go.”
They loiter around the perimeter of the hospital, the dead of January just around the corner, but the burn in his lungs keeps him nice and toasty. Billows of smoke release in choppy puffs as he laughs, knocking shoulders with Azumane. “You remember the day you found out I smoked? You looked like you just found out you were in a horror movie—oh my god.”
“Are you kidding? It felt like I was in a horror movie. You know that shit’ll ruin your organs!” Azumane shakes his head, burying himself further into the folds of his scarf.
“Yeah, yeah. Cancer was almost worth your reaction though, not gonna lie.”
Noya shakes his head, lips curling upwards. “Crazy bastard.”
His mohawk friend snickers, tapping the ash from his cigarette. “You sound just like Tetsu. You should’ve been there—I didn’t hear the end of it for days. He’s a generally chill dude but he’s weird when it comes to health and shit. He won’t even let us eat sweets past a certain time ‘cuz of digestion or whatever.”
The taller alpha smiles. “Sounds like your leader cares a lot about you.”
“Oh yeah—he does. Best leader a rogue could ask for. Our pack is like our family, you know? We’re so blessed to have found one another.”
They walk for a little longer, until the ash has burnt all the way to the base of their cigarettes and the bitterness of winter has seeped into their coats. Nobody says much, the three Karasuno members pensive, as Yamamoto gives anecdotes about all the crazy shenanigans their pack got up to back when they were young and still living in Lower Tokyo—not unlike some of the stories Karasuno have, which puts a damper on things.
Yamamoto flicks his cigarette into a patch of grey snow and shrugs the cold from his shoulders. “Better get back to my post before Yaku catches me slacking off. Don’t know about you guys, but I like my balls attached to my body.”
They wave and watch Yamamoto jog back through the side entrance, but the three of them remain outside a short while longer.
Ryuu lights a second cigarette and searches for the stars, but they aren’t there. It’s thick overcast. “Kiyoko is making bentos to bring for everyone tomorrow,” he says. “She wants it to be a surprise so just like—act surprised when she brings them.”
Noya snorts and punches him playfully. “It would’ve been a surprise if you’d kept your mouth shut, Ryu.”
He chuckles and rubs the back of his head. “Yeah, I guess. I don’t know why I blurted that out. Guess I’m a terrible husband, huh?”
“Ah, you’re probably a great husband—and a great dad now, too!”
The reminder has him physically wilting, a painful sadness poisoning his bones. Kiyoko brought a healthy, beautiful baby girl into this world, and he hasn’t even had the time to process it yet. She was by Karasuno’s side right up until the contractions started, and then she was taken to another part of the hospital to have the baby.
They settled on the name Chouko. She cried as the nurses wrapped her in a blanket and placed her in his arms, and when her tiny fingers clutched his thumb, she stopped and her eyes cracked open for just a second. His heart had stopped.
Kiyoko made a swift recovery. She wanted to be taken straight back to Daichi’s room, but Ryuu convinced her to go back to their apartment on the East Side. It’s not the safest place in the city, but it’s a hell of a lot safer than where they are right now. It hurts to be away from them, but he knows it’d hurt even more to be absent the day Daichi finally dies.
“You’d make a great uncle too, if you stayed,” Ryuu says, meeting Noya’s sharp gaze.
The short beta’s face falls, kicking at a piece of gravel. “You know I can’t.”
Ryuu shrugs like it’s no big deal. “I know. But it was worth a shot.”
The silence that follows is only broken when Noya turns to him fully, eyebrows knitted with sudden determination. He gives his packmate a weird look. “What is it?”
“Come live with us.”
Ryuu blinks. “Huh?”
Noya grasps his sleeve. “We have two extra houses on our property. Bring Kiyoko and the baby and come live with us on our farm.”
He snorts in disbelief. “What? And be a farmer?”
“Why not?”
Looking up at the sky again, he entertains the idea for a moment. “I dunno, Yuu. What about the rest of Karasuno?”
Noya shrugs. “Once Daichi … you know—” he rubs his arm awkwardly “—we’ll all just go back to our normal lives anyway.”
He shakes his head. “I’m not letting us break apart again. Not this time. It’d be a spit in the face of Daichi’s legacy.”
“They could … come visit?” Noya screws his face up like he hasn’t thought this all the way through.
“I’ll talk it over with Kiyoko,” he promises, smiling.
When they enter into the lobby on the second floor, they run into Sugawara, who flings himself at them the moment they step out of the elevator doors. “There you are! I’ve been looking everywhere for you three!”
Ryuu is immediately on edge, clutching the back of Sugawara’s shirt. “What? What is it? What’s wrong?”
But when the silver-haired omega pulls away, his face is alight with joy. “Nothing’s wrong—I just got a call from Shouyou. He’s found Kageyama! They’ll be here later this evening!”
The air rushes out of his lungs all at once, the relief so staggering that he has to lean against a nearby wall for support. “It’s finally happening,” he mutters, more to himself than to his packmates. “We’re finally going to all be together again.”
Sugawara nods frantically, wiping a tear from the corner of his eye. Azumane drags the omega into his arms, and Noya joins the embrace soon after. He watches them, a soft grin on his face, until Noya reaches to yank him into the cluster of arms. Wet cotton rubs his nose as his squishes his cheek against Azumane’s shoulder blade, his pinkened fingers lacing with Noya’s smaller ones.
“It’s all going to be alright,” Azumane says, voice shaky. “We’ll finally be a family again.”
*
Shouyou finds Kageyama bathed in artificial light projecting from the TV, the rest of the lounge shadowed in night. The volume has been turned down to an innocuous murmur, the room’s gentle lull broken only by the jovial laughter echoing from the kitchen. Using a dishtowel as a placemat, Shouyou lowers a bowl of soup onto the coffee table along with a glass of chilled milk. Kageyama’s eyes don’t move from the TV, pretending he isn’t even there.
Glancing at what he’s watching, Shouyou eases carefully onto the couch beside him. “Must be surreal, being so famous but no one knowing who you are. How did you even get the name ‘Night Crawler’, anyway? Is that a name you chose, or was that something the media came up with?”
“News at Nine were the first to use it. There were other names they were calling me, but that one stuck,” Kageyama says matter-of-factly, reaching for the glass of milk.
“I like it.” Shouyou grins, his hands resting on his belly. “It makes you sound so mysterious and—dare I say—even a little dangerous.”
Kageyama almost chokes on his milk, pulling away to punch his fist against his chest. “Don’t talk to me in that voice.”
“What voice?” he asks innocently.
“You know—that one you use to make fun of me.”
He nudges Kageyama in the ribcage. “How come?”
“B-Because …” Even with the minimal lighting, Shouyou can see the pink dusting his high cheekbones.
Tilting his head, he prods, “Because …?”
Placing the milk down, a frown scrunches his brow. “Because you shouldn’t be flirting with someone who isn’t your mate!”
Shouyou gapes. “Fl—Flirting! I wasn’t flirting!”
“Yes, you were—you flirty dumbass!”
Crossing his arms over his chest, Shouyou falls back against the couch cushions with an audible thump. “You’re just projecting your stupid jealous feelings onto me, stupid Bakageyama.”
Kageyama carefully lays the dishtowel and the bowl of soup on his lap, scooping some of it onto his spoon. “Of course I’m jealous,” he mutters so softly Shouyou almost misses it.
Guilt twists his heart, and he doesn’t really know what to do or say in response to that. They were in love at some point, and part of him still loves Kageyama to this day, but so much time has passed that he just assumed Kageyama had moved on. “I thought about you almost every day after I left. It hurt to think about but … after everything that happened between us, I just thought that you … well, you didn’t love me anymore. That you’d find somebody else to depend on …”
“Find somebody else,” Kageyama echoes, like he never even considered it an option. “I saved myself, waiting for the day we could be together again. I’ve never even looked at another omega.”
“Kageyama …” Shouyou sighs, sitting up straighter. “I—” he reaches, touching Kageyama’s shoulder, but the alpha flinches away.
“How many?”
He’s taken aback. “W-What?”
“How many people have you been with—aside from Oikawa? Or was Oikawa your first and only alpha?”
Before he can stop himself, an annoyed huff leaves his lips. So this is the game he’s going to play, is it? “Don’t ask questions you won’t like the answers to, idiot.”
“Tell me,” Kageyama blows on another spoonful and slurps it tentatively, “I’d like to know.”
What exactly does Kageyama thinks this’ll achieve? Seems his answer will only prove to cause the alpha more pain, but then again—Kageyama has always been a bit of an emotional masochist. Alright then. “Sakusa was my first.”
To Kageyama’s credit, he doesn’t drop his spoon into his bowl and get hot soup everywhere. Calmly, but with an edge of incredulity, he says: “The guy that tutored us?”
“Yup,” he pops the ‘p’ just to be mildly annoying.
“How’d you manage to convince him to do that.”
“Akaashi said I wasn’t allowed to have sex until I was eighteen, and I was originally going to do it with Atsumu on my eighteenth birthday—”
“You’re kidding.”
“—but then Sakusa caught wind of it and was like ‘no fucking way am I trusting Atsumu with your virginity he’s a piece of trash with mad frat boy energy’ and I was like ‘oh shit’—”
“Sakusa would never say ‘mad frat boy energy’.”
Shouyou waves it off with his hand. “It was something along those lines. Anyway, I basically said to him that look—I’m losing my v-card on my eighteenth whether you like it or not ‘cuz my white pin has gotta go. I’m just so sick of it and all the bullshit it’s caused in my life and stuff, you know? Anyway, long story short, Sakusa comes to the conclusion that he should be the one to do it because he’s the only responsible one in the apartment.”
His retelling of the events don’t anger Kageyama as much as he expects. Rather, he looks more curious than anything else. “Did it—did it hurt?”
“Well I mean, yeah—the first time anyway. It got way better after that.”
Kageyama blanches. “You had sex with our tutor multiple times?”
“Nah, just that one time—then I had sex with Atsumu.”
The alpha pins him with more judgement than a cat waiting to be fed. “Ew. I kinda get Sakusa, but Atsumu? Wait—why do I think you’d have standards? Your mate is Oikawa.”
“Hey! Atsumu was actually really sweet!”
“I could’ve lived without knowing that. Anyone else I need to worry about?”
“Uh—Tetsu—”
“No.”
Shouyou grins and shrugs. “It was really boring being under house arrest and he was always just around.”
“So you just … had sex with whoever was around?” Kageyama sounds like he’s just been told his grandmother kept her dentures in his water bottle.
“Well …”
“Unbelievable. And here I thought Oikawa was taking advantage of you in some way—you’re exactly like him!”
He grins, taking it as a compliment. “We make a great team.”
Kageyama turns to hide his expression, but Shouyou isn’t a moron (as much as Kageyama tries to make the case that he is). He’s known the alpha long enough to notice the subtle shifts in his body language, and judging from the slope of his shoulder he can tell Kageyama is hurting. His hand settles on his back, understanding in his touch.
“We made a great team too—the two of us.”
Surprisingly, Kageyama doesn’t shy away from his touch like he has throughout most of the day. He picks up his spoon and keeps eating, the soup now at a lukewarm temperature.
Once dinner is over, they get ready to leave for the hospital. Tooru wraps a scarf around Shouyou’s neck as Kageyama wrestles into his shoes by the door. It’s not what Shouyou would’ve liked, but they agreed that Tooru would stay behind so that Shouyou could spend some quality time with just Karasuno. Deep down, he knows Tooru has an ulterior motive (likely to do with Inarizaki), but after the exhausting day he’s had convincing Kageyama to go to the hospital, he can’t bring himself to protest.
Tooru has made it abundantly clear that this is happening regardless of how he feels, so why should he bother arguing?
And besides, today isn’t about Tooru, it’s about Daichi and the rest of Karasuno. He’s not going to let Tooru’s plans for the near future take away from what’s happening in the present. It wouldn’t be fair to the others, and it certainly wouldn’t be fair to himself either.
“I love you,” Shouyou tells him, smiling coyly up at his mate.
Tooru smirks, pulling him against his firm body. He nuzzles into his curls, inhaling his fruity shampoo. “Call me if you need anything.”
“I will.”
Tooru tilts his attention in Kageyama’s direction, deviance coiling the edges of his smile. “Farewell, Tobio-chan. Keep my mate nice and safe for me, will you?”
Shouyou pinches Tooru’s side, but instead of wincing he swoops down to capture his lips in an unexpectedly heated kiss. The bond that thrums through his veins sings with euphoric delight, and warmth spreads from his stomach down to his toes. In the back of his mind, he knows exactly what Tooru is doing, and though he intends to push the alpha away, he ends up pulling him closer.
Tooru’s tongue grazes his bottom lip, teasing him. He wants to give in to Tooru’s teasing, he wants to so badly, but before the fire consumes him fully, he takes a reluctant step away.
Chocolate eyes follow Shouyou as he makes a hasty retreat towards the genkan where Kageyama sits, having witnessed the exchange. They’re both silent as they approach the car. Tetsurou’s silhouette can be seen in the driver’s side, the purr of the engine being the only noise in the quiet lane. The heater is defrosting the windshield as the two of them slip into the backseat.
Kageyama glares at the back of Tetsurou’s head, earning him a weird look through the rear-view mirror. Kenma has his legs up on the dashboard, lost under the folds of his oversized hoodie as he plays a game on his phone. Now the mission is over, the Nekoma duo intend to drop them off at the hospital and then return back to their pack in Upper Tokyo. Once the reunion is over, Shouyou is meant to call Tooru and they, along with Iwaizumi and the members of Inarizaki, are going to return to their respective packs.
The plan isn’t set in stone; Shouyou might decide to stay at the hospital all night depending on how things go. The only reason he and Tooru intend to go back to Upper Tokyo at all is because Akaashi and Bokuto want them to; Shouyou is just as much a member of Fukuroudani as he is of Karasuno, and the reunion isn’t going to change that.
Now that they’re on their way to the hospital, Shouyou comes to the realisation that he never thought about an after to the mission. He was so laser-focused on what had to be done that it never even crossed his mind to consider what would follow.
As much as Daichi would want for them to stay together, to be a pack again until their dying days, Shouyou can’t see that happening. They’ve grown so far apart, carved out their own little lives separate from the family they once shared. Ryuu is married with a baby—Shouyou has one on the way; Noya and Asahi have a peaceful life out in the countryside; Kei is on his way to becoming an important player in San Tokyo politics; Tadashi has an easy life in Hawaii and a steady girlfriend; and Koushi and Kageyama …
His stomach turns like it’s just taken mouldy cheese.
What to do with Koushi and Kageyama? Koushi isn’t going back to Akahana—that’s out of the question, but he also can’t see Akaashi and Bokuto taking him in either. It would cause too much strain between South and West; it might even be enough to drag Fukuroudani into the gang war Akaashi has fought so hard to avoid.
And Kageyama … well, he can’t let him continue this ‘Night Crawler’ business, that’s for sure. Once Wakatoshi has grown bored with the East, he’ll go after Kageyama with the full brunt of the Southern packs backing him. Petty goons won’t be enough to find and capture him, but if it were someone from within Shiratorizawa, his vigilante days would come to a swift end.
Bokuto might find a use for him on his security team if Shouyou put in a good word, but the thought of Kageyama and Tooru living under the same roof seems cruel given the circumstances.
“Are you excited to see them?” Shouyou asks, voice only slightly louder than the music playing from the radio.
“I think.” Kageyama frowns.
“You think?”
He looks out the window, street lights flashing across his grave features sporadically. “I’m not really sure what I’ll say or if—if any of them even want to see me.”
A cold stone sinks into the pit of his stomach, and he puts his hand on top of Kageyama’s. “Of course they want to see you. Why wouldn’t they?”
Kageyama shrugs like he doesn’t care, but he knows that he does. “Most of them left me behind.” Shouyou’s heart squeezes. “When I ran away, no one even came looking for me.”
Coiling his fingers around Kageyama’s longer ones, he says, “I came looking for you, dumbass.”
It must be the shadows playing tricks on him, because he thinks he sees Kageyama smile. “You’re not allowed to call me dumbass, dumbass.”
“Whatever, Bakageyama!”
For the rest of the car ride, whether Kageyama even notices or not, they hold hands—fingers laced and all. It still feels exactly as it did when they were teenagers, although Kageyama’s hands have gotten a few more callouses since then. On closer inspection, he can see there’s littering of tiny scars across his knuckles and on the pads of his fingers. From what—he’s not sure. It’s pebbly though, like a hundred tiny paper cuts intersecting at random.
Being a masked vigilante must be tiring.
Tetsurou pulls up outside the hospital. Kageyama gets out first, and waits on the entrance steps as Shouyou says his goodbyes to his friends. They watch the car take off into the night before entering the lobby.
Signs for the bathroom remind him of his cramped bladder. “I’ve gotta go to the bathroom. You go on ahead.”
“Again? You went before we left.” Kageyama scowls.
Shouyou’s eyes roll to the back of his head. “I’m sorry I have an eight-month-old human pressing against my organs, Yamayama. Don’t worry, just go. I’ll catch up.” He flicks his hand, already walking away.
“No, I’ll go with you.” Shouyou shoots him a weird look over his shoulder. Kageyama snorts. “Not into the bathroom, obviously. Wipe that look off your face, idiot.”
He grins. “If you insist, ya perv.”
Satisfaction wells inside him when he sees the tips of Kageyama’s ears turn red. “I’m not a perv—you’re a perv for even thinking that I have other intentions!”
“Sure, sure. A classic perv’s deflection.”
“I told you I’m not a perv!” A couple of nurses passing by giggle behind their clipboards, and Kageyama lowers his head, blush angrily hueing his face.
When they reach the bathrooms, Kageyama leans against the wall next to the door with the ‘O’ and crosses his arms. “Don’t take too long.”
“I won’t,” Shouyou sing-songs, shoving open the door.
It’s empty inside, but he’s not too surprised. It’s pretty late. Traffic has all but come to a standstill, with visiting hours for patients in non-critical conditions having ended at around 9pm.
After he’s done emptying his bladder, he washes his hands. As he reaches for the paper towels fixed to the wall next to him, the door to the omega bathrooms opens. He doesn’t look out of politeness, but just as the door swings closed he gets a strong whiff of pheromones that can’t be misconstrued as anything but alpha.
He huffs, patting his hands dry. “What? You couldn’t wait just a couple minutes?”
Kageyama doesn’t say anything as he approaches. Shouyou tosses the wet paper towels in the bin and turns, and comes face to face with a chest that definitely doesn’t belong to Kageyama. The smell of cedar and ash hits his nostrils, and he tenses, eyes slowly climbing up the alpha before him, only for time to stop as he settles on their face.
“Wakatoshi,” he whispers like it’s the bogeyman.
Not much has changed about Wakatoshi—nothing except for the strapless eye-patch covering his right eye.
Something cold and metallic nudges his stomach. He doesn’t have to look to know what it is. Wakatoshi raises his other hand to caress his knuckles against the apple of Shouyou’s cheek, as if to mock him. “You were the biggest mistake I ever made, Hinata Shouyou. Oikawa was the second. I’m going to make the two of you pay for ever crossing me.”
Notes:
This just turned into a soap opera and i make no apologies.
Chapter 34: The Call
Notes:
Apologies for the delayed update. I was moving places all weekend and was really busy!
Chapter Text
Tooru claps the sole of his slipper against his foot, eyes locked on the wedding band Kita fiddles with whenever he’s in thought. Behind him, Iwaizumi leans over the kitchen counter to blow smoke out the window, and Osamu and Suna can be heard lugging the last of the luggage down the stairs to join the rest by the front door. Spread out on the table in front of them are several plans they’ve come up with, the promising ones dubbed: ‘Plan A’, ‘Plan B’, and ‘Plan C’. They’re not the most creative bunch, sad to say (although he learnt Kita has a Fine Arts degree which—OK?).
The question has been nagging at the back of his head for some time now, and just recently that little voice got its hands on a bullhorn (where it came from remains unknown), but he just has to ask: “Who’s the lucky man?”
Kita pauses, looking at him in confusion until he realises what Tooru is staring at. “Oh—” he chuckles, the barest blush dusting his cheeks “—did I mention I’m married to a man, did I?”
Amusement pulls at Tooru’s smile as he laces his fingers in front of him. “No, but I have a way of knowing these things. I have a sixth sense you see—” Iwaizumi snorts, but he’s not going to dignify his rudeness with a response “—and there’s this energy that I’m picked up around you. So am I right, or am I right?”
Crossing his arms on the table, Kita admits with a coy grin, “Yes, you’re right. But can you guess who?”
His eyebrows shoot up. “It’s someone we know?”
“Someone you’ve gotten to know rather well over the past few months, actually.”
Tooru and Iwaizumi look at each other, as if to ask: “Did you pick up on this?”
Shrugging, Tooru concludes, “Well it can only be two options, right? My money’s on the Miya twin—although, does he seem like the kind of guy who could keep a secret? Suna seems much more discreet. I dunno. Iwa-chan, what do you think?”
His best friend taps his cigarette against the rim of a glass ashtray and shrugs. “Fuck if I know—why don’t you ask your sixth sense?”
Tooru shoots him a scathing look over his shoulder. “It’s telling me all your previous lives were assholes, and you are no exception.”
“Hope to god none of my previous lives had an Oikawa in their lives.”
“Rude!”
Kita leans his cheek against his palm, smiling mysteriously. “Have you guessed yet?”
Sixth sense, don’t fail me now! Tooru slams his hand against the table. “Osamu. Final answer.”
Inarizaki’s leader hums, impressed. “Quite the sixth sense you have there, Oikawa-san. You should consider opening your own fortune-telling business.”
Tooru pumps a fist, sweet victory on his tongue. “Ha!”
Iwaizumi massages his temple. “Please … Don’t encourage him.”
“Colour me surprised though.” Tooru leans forward towards the East Side rogue. “In the months we’ve spent together, I never once saw anything that’d indicate you and Miya were in a relationship. I noticed the ring but honestly—I just assumed you were married to someone we hadn’t met.”
“We’re both private people,” Kita admits easily. “Since we’re technically on assignment, neither of us feel comfortable being affectionate—especially while working.”
“So you just …” Iwaizumi scratches the back of his head. “You aren’t affectionate like, at all?”
Kita smiles. “Not in front of other people.”
Carefully processing his words, Tooru’s jaw drops in understanding. “You’ve been doing the dirty behind closed doors, haven’t you? Oh my god—those times you shared rooms with Suna?”
“So doing it in a public cave full of tourists is OK, but doing it in a private room near a sleeping packmate is where you draw the line?”
Tooru gapes. “You saw nothing.”
“No, but we heard everything,” Iwaizumi sneers, finishing his cigarette and joining them at the table. “Besides, just because you and Hinata are all over each other all the time doesn’t mean everyone else has to be the same.”
Alright, so maybe Iwa-chan has a point. He’s not about to tell him that though. He’ll never hear the end of it. “You know, I’ve been considering asking Shou-chan to marry me, but I don’t know—doesn’t it seem a bit unnecessary when we’re already bonded? Like, what’s the point?”
“I can’t speak to your relationship,” Kita says, his tone sincere. “Bonding is a unique transfer of power between omegas and alphas, and betas like me don’t factor into that. Marriage felt like the next best thing. When Osamu popped the question, I said yes. There are plenty of omegas and alphas who bond and get married though. It really depends on the couple.”
“Well …” He scratches his nail against the table’s cheap overcoat. “Marking Shou-chan at the time was done out of necessity rather than, I dunno—whatever dumb reason alphas usually mark omegas. He doesn’t like to say it aloud, but Shou-chan is scared of most alphas. He doesn’t trust them. He had this fear that one day an alpha was going to mark him without his consent and he’d have to live with that alpha for the rest of his life. I don’t know where this fear came from but back before he was marked, you could tell it really affected the way he acted around alphas.”
Kita’s eyebrows pinch with sympathy. “So you agreed to mark him?”
Tooru nods. “It was a risk—we’d only been together a year at that time, but he was having violent nightmares. Sometimes he’d even wake up vomiting; we had to do something about it. I guess for that reason, I never saw our bond as something made from passion or devotion, you know?
“Whereas marriage, well, isn’t that the biggest gesture of love and devotion to someone? I certainly think so.”
“Have you spoken to Hinata about marriage?” Iwaizumi asks.
“No …”
“Has he dropped any hints that he might want to get married in the future?”
“No …”
Kita cups a smile behind his hand. “Maybe you should try and bring it up with him before going crazy on a ring.”
Tooru doesn’t realise he’s pouting until he catches his reflection in the stained glass framing the entrance doorway. He wipes it away. “What’s the point of a grand, sweeping gesture like a proposal if your other half suspects that it’s coming?”
“Is it bad that they’re expecting it?” Kita asks.
“No, but isn’t the surprise on their face half the fun?”
There’s a snort to his left. Iwaizumi starts rolling the pieces of scattered plans and fitting them into cardboard tubes. “Why does everything have be ‘go hard or go home’ with you? Just ask Hinata what his views on marriage are and then go from there.”
Tooru catches his reflection again and—goddammit! The pout is back! He pulls weird faces, attempting to get a hold on his expression.
“Oi, asshole. Were you even listening?” Iwaizumi smacks him upside the head and his glasses almost fall off his noise.
Fixing his glasses with a whine, he whips around to shoot Iwaizumi a look of betrayal. “Why are you such a brute? This is exactly why you’re still single! Omegas don’t like aggressive alphas!”
Iwaizumi’s eyebrow twitches and he cracks his knuckles threateningly. “I really can’t stand alphas like you.”
“Not to worry. At my wedding there’ll be plenty of bridesmaids for you to practise with—you might even get lucky with one of them.” He sticks his tongue out the corner of his mouth and makes a peace sign. “Don’cha know they go crazy for the groomsmen?”
The murderous glint in Iwaizumi’s eyes instantly evaporates, the hard line of his shoulders slacking. “You want me to be a groomsman?”
He rolls his eyes. “No, silly. Not just a groomsman—I want you to be my best man!”
“R-Really? You’re not joking? Because if you are, Shittykawa, I swear to god—”
“I’m not joking.” Tooru rests his elbow on the back of his chair, smiling across the table at his childhood friend. “There’s no one else on earth I want by my side on my wedding day other than you.”
It might be a trick of the light, but he swears he sees Iwaizumi’s eyes get dewy. The other alpha quickly turns his head and wipes furiously at his face, then clears his throat and gathers the plans to his chest.
“I’m going put these in my suitcase and uh—yeah.” Iwaizumi sidles out of the kitchen, and Tooru can hear him interrupt the conversation between Osamu and Suna in the foyer.
Kita finishes his tea. “I’m going to vacuum upstairs and make sure everything’s nice and clean for Nohebi when they return.”
“Have fun with that.”
“I will,” Kita replies in earnest, washing his cup and setting it aside to dry.
There’s really no telling how long it’ll be until Shouyou calls him. It won’t be for a few hours at least. He could help Kita clean while he waits, but when has he ever voluntarily cleaned anything? These hands are soft and manicured, the kind of hands nobles and royalty would have back in feudal times while peasants toiled hard in fields all day long. There’s a subtle imperfection on his right hand, between his index and thumb—a scar white with time. It reminds him of his previous life, lived in a place only vaguely recalled.
Tooru was too pretty for Lower Tokyo; he knew it from a young age. Madam Sakuma, his birth mother’s sister, told him as much before his eighth birthday. He firmly believes the only reason red-light recruits never snatched him was because he grew up in the red-light district, and everyone just assumed he worked under his aunt.
It was a lie they played along with. Nobody asks too many questions in Norizaki.
He met Iwaizumi at ten. Iwaizumi hung around Norizaki because sometimes the sex workers would offer to pay him to fetch food or condoms from the convenience store. Tooru leant outside his window on the ground floor, and watched as Iwaizumi punched a snatcher in the nose and run off before he could get grabbed. He remembers thinking how strange it was for a stray to hang around a place so dangerous for kids. But even after that, Iwaizumi kept showing up, and Tooru would watch him, interested to see if he’d pick a fight with sketchy people, or blush over a kiss to his forehead from one of the sex workers. Iwaizumi never disappointed.
Then one day, he picked a fight with the wrong person, and was held at knife-point. To this day, Tooru can’t tell you what compelled him to throw himself between Iwaizumi and the thug. It all happened so fast.
The next thing he remembers is clutching his hand to his chest, blood spilling through his fingers, and Iwaizumi yanking him into one of the brothels to get his cut looked at. The guy with the knife ran away, spooked, and Tooru and Iwaizumi became fast friends after that. They hung out during summer holidays and found creative ways to entertain themselves.
Then his aunt died, and they ran away—as far away from Norizaki as they could go without leaving South Side completely.
They were both out of school and needed to figure out how to get by on nothing, so they did petty schemes to cheat kiddie fiddlers out of their cash; Tooru would usually be the bait, while Iwaizumi would be the viper hidden in shadow, waiting for just the right moment to strike. They were good at it, too.
When they got a little older, they got jobs as drug dealers under a third-tier pack. Said pack were underreporting their sales to the Don, which obviously pissed her off. Two alpha women kicked down the door while Tooru and Iwaizumi were helping bag cocaine in the back room, and Ushiwaka had tagged along with his mother’s henchwomen—not for any reason other than he had nothing better to do. The pack was executed, and Iwaizumi, Tooru and a couple other strays were spared because they weren’t registered.
That’s how they met Ushiwaka. He was attracted to Tooru—his newly developed alpha status a surprising bonus to the Don’s son.
And the rest, as they say, is history.
Tooru thinks it’s a bit of a false comparison to place his relationship with Ushiwaka side by side with the one he shares with Shouyou, but he does it anyway for entertainment’s sake. Sex is an obvious difference; Ushiwaka liked his hands taut around the reigns, and wouldn’t relinquish control no matter how many times Tooru nudged him to be more adventurous. Shouyou, on the other hand, is fun and down for anything. In almost every aspect, Ushiwaka and Shouyou stand on opposite sides of the spectrum, which is why it’s hopeless to even compare the two.
Choosing which relationship he prefers is also a no-brainer. Things never would’ve worked out between he and Ushiwaka, even if he wasn’t heir to South Side’s crime empire.
And Shouyou is—well, an angel.
The abrupt vibration of his phone jumps him out of his thoughts, the device rattling violently against the wooden table. He briefly checks the caller ID and huffs in surprise.
“You want me to pick you up already? Did something happen?” Tooru’s eyes follow Iwaizumi as he comes back into the kitchen and makes himself a cup of coffee.
“Oikawa.” Ice floods his veins and his stomach drops to the floor.
“Ushijima,” he chokes. Iwaizumi’s head snaps in his direction. Without a moment’s hesitation, he puts his phone on loudspeaker.
“Are you alone?”
Exhaling through his nose, he answers, “No.”
“Who’s with you?”
“Iwaizumi.”
“Anyone else?”
“No.”
“Are you ready to die, Oikawa?”
The tendon in his jaw twitches. “Where’s Shouyou? Why do you have his phone?”
“He’s sitting next to me. Would you like to talk to him?” Tooru listens carefully to the background noise. From the sounds of it they’re in a moving vehicle.
Before he can respond, the phone is passed, and he hears a sniff “Tooru?”
It’s like inhaling a wave of tiny needles that prickle all the way down his throat and tear at his lungs. Tears sting his eyes and sickness wells in his gut. He has the urge to scream, to gauge out his eyes and pluck the hair from his scalp in frustration. What sadistic, twisted game are the gods playing at? Who’s grave did he spit on to warrant this degree of cruelty? It’s a stroke of luck that he’s seated, else he would’ve lost feeling in his legs and collapsed.
Iwaizumi moves like a ghost, soundless, as he slips into the seat beside Tooru, gripping his shoulder.
“Shou-chan—sweetheart—I’ll—”
But that’s all Ushijima will let him have, just a whisper of his name. “Listen carefully, Oikawa. One misstep and I’ll have a bullet each for Hinata and the baby.”
He swallows painfully. “I’m listening.”
“I’m going to send you an address. You come alone. No back-up. You tell no one where you’re going.”
“Fine.” Iwaizumi glares, and he waves him off. “I’ll come, but you have to promise not to hurt Shouyou.”
“I make no such promises.”
“Ushijima … Don’t fucking hurt him.”
“Or what? You’re in no position to tell me what I can and can’t do. Hurry to the location, Oikawa, else there might be nobody left to save.”
“Y—” but the line goes dead. Tooru and Iwaizumi stare at the phone, lost for words. A moment later it vibrates again, an address popping up on the home screen. If it weren’t for that fucking address, he’d have thrown the phone across the room. The voices in the foyer stopped a while ago; the other alphas listening in. The only sound comes from upstairs as Kita goes through the bedrooms with a vacuum cleaner.
Iwaizumi slams his fist against the table. “Bastard!”
Osamu and Suna appear in the doorway, faces grave. “What’cha gonna do ‘bout that?” the twin asks.
The question has Tooru springing to his feet, grabbing his phone and wheeling around towards the door. Iwaizumi gets up and grabs him by the back of his collar. “Where the hell are you going?”
“Where do think?” he snaps, wrenching out of his friend’s hold, but then Iwaizumi shoves him against the wall. “Hey!”
“You aren’t seriously considering going alone? You’ll fall right into his trap!”
“Don’t you think I know that?” he yells in Iwaizumi’s face. “What other choice do I have? If I bring someone along, he’ll kill Shouyou!”
“If you go alone, he’ll kill Hinata anyway—and he’ll kill you too!”
“So what are you suggesting? That I just let him kill Shouyou? That we do nothing?”
“We’ll call reinforcements. Akaashi and Bokuto will think of something!”
“And ya aren’t takin’ down Ushiwaka an’ takin’ all the glory either,” Osamu says, taking a step towards them. “The East have got ya back. We’ll take ‘im out together, just like we originally planned.”
Tooru shakes his head, trying to push Iwaizumi off him. “There’s no time for planning or anything—he’s probably hurting Shouyou as we speak! I’ve gotta go save him!”
“Not alone,” Iwaizumi repeats, digging his arm against Tooru’s jugular. “I swear, if you run off by yourself I’ll save Ushijima the trouble of killing you.”
All Iwaizumi gets is a glare for his trouble, and he must’ve taken Tooru’s lack of struggle as a good sign, because he slowly takes his arm away from Tooru’s throat and fishes his phone out of his pocket. Suna slinks away, most likely to update Kita on what’s going on downstairs.
Dialling a number, Iwaizumi presses his phone against his ear. “Hi, Akaashi? … Yes, it is. Are you with Don Bokuto right now? Good. We’ve got a situation on our hands …”
*
Tooru digs his teeth into the joint of his thumb as the city obscures in artificial delirium outside the car window. White knuckles clutch the steering wheel as Iwaizumi stares straight ahead, jaw clenching and eyebrows scrunched in fixed distress. A train of cars follow closely behind them, others joining in the lanes running beside them. All Tooru can hear is the roar of blood in his ears, and all he can feel is the burning lust for murder in his gut.
His mate, his most precious treasure, his beacon in the dark, stolen right from under him. He wants Ushijima dead. He’s wanted him dead from the moment he betrayed him, but this time he wants to prolong his suffered. This titan, a giant shrouded in mysticism and intrigue, eclipsing the sun that falls over San Tokyo; he wants to see him on his knees. He wants to see him broken beyond repair.
Instead of picturing Ushijima in pain though, he sees Shouyou crying, Shouyou screaming, Shouyou bleeding—
He punches the window and his knuckles scream.
“I told you to stop thinking about it!” Iwaizumi snaps, as taut as a coat hanger.
“How could I not?” He digs his nails into his scalp. “Ushijima hates Shouyou almost as much as he hates me. For all we know he killed Shouyou the moment he ended the call.”
“Don’t say that.”
“Would you put it past him?”
“I know that writing the situation off as hopeless before we even get there isn’t going to help Hinata. We have to believe he’s still alive or else …”
“Or else what?”
“I don’t know!”
Shouyou squeezes his eyes shut. “You’re terrible at comforting people.”
“Obvious statement is obvious. If you wanted someone loving, you shouldn’t have made friends with me.”
At that moment Iwaizumi’s phone rings and he picks it up. The conversation is muted and brief, and Iwaizumi promptly hangs up and tosses it onto the dashboard.
“Kenma tracked Hinata’s phone. It was found on the side of a road. Ushijima must’ve thrown it out the window after he sent the address.”
He bites harder on his thumb. “So there’s no way of knowing if Shouyou is actually at the address he sent us.”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“Great.”
The sweet, watercolour hues of Middle Tokyo bleed away to harsh, unforgiving neon as they tear down the roads of Lower Tokyo. The windshield wiper waves across sprinkles of falling snow, clouds blanketing the night sky.
“Tooru.” Shouyou smiling.
“Tooru.” Shouyou snapping.
“Tooru.” Shouyou moaning.
Shouyou is the only person he’s ever marked, so he doesn’t know what happens if his mate dies. Does he sense it at all? Given that a mark is a connection tethering two people together, surely he would feel something. He reaches through their bond, prodding at it, hoping for anything—a twitch, a whisper, a caress—it doesn’t have to be strong.
The connection is blocked. He can feel it—like a knot tangled in a vein.
He can’t tell whether this is a good thing or not. A blocked connection could mean one of many things; it doesn’t prove Shouyou is dead.
Shouyou: bleeding out on a cold floor, Ushijima: standing over him—stop.
Shouyou’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.
But somehow that doesn’t ease his emotional nausea. Because if Shouyou is alive, the possibilities to what could be happening to him at this very moment are endless.
His mind jumps to the worst scenario his mind can conceive. He wants to slam his head against the window to stop it from thinking things.
Bokuto sounded the alarm the moment Iwaizumi filled Akaashi in on what happened, and Nekoma, Fukuroudani and Seijoh were promptly dispatched. As far as Akaashi is concerned, West Side were dragged into this mess the moment Ushijima took Shouyou. Karasuno were informed, and that’s when they learnt Kageyama never showed up either. Some of their members, along with Lev, Yaku and Yamamoto swept inside and outside the hospital, fearing the worst, but found no sign of him save for a few spots of blood on a wall outside the ground floor bathrooms.
Kita got in contact with Don Tanaka, and she sent the rest of Inarizaki along with several members of Niiyama to the location. There’s likely more to come, West and East releasing the full force of their power to take down the South Side Don and officially put an end to the war.
It doesn’t matter how many packs flock to their aid, it feels like it’ll never be enough.
Iwaizumi pulls over a couple streets from the location and Tooru is out of the car before it’s completely stopped.
“Remember the plan.” His friend leans over to talk through the passenger side window. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Just get Shouyou out of there,” he snaps back, storming off before Iwaizumi can lecture him some more.
This area of Lower Tokyo South is particularly quiet at night. The sea laps at the docks, brine salting the air. Tin roofs are diseased with rust, and broken windows and decaying brick wear away the buildings that haunt the area. Snow powders his hair and lashes, his breath coming out in puffs of mist.
As he nears the address, a silhouette kicks off a wall and approaches him. Tooru halts. The figure steps into the light, revealing Tendou Satori.
“Pretty night for a stroll, don’cha think?” Tendou teases, red eyes glinting under the street lamp.
“I’d be prettier with your head cracked against the gutter.”
Tendou grins. “You’re in a good mood. Waka-chan will be delighted.” The redhead stops in front of him, and he pats him down for weapons. When Tendou finds none, he steps back. “Right this way, Oika-chan!”
The building is a multi-level factory, but there’s nothing inside but random stuff—an overturned mannequin, a pile of a soggy Styrofoam, broken pieces of glass. Stuff that, on its own, wouldn’t inspire much fear, but found in a place like this adds to the atmosphere’s overall unpleasantness.
Their footsteps carry across the concrete as he’s taken up a staircase. The second floor is just as empty. Further ahead, standing guard outside a door to a room, he sees Oohira.
“How’s the brat?” Tendou asks him as they walk past. Tooru’s stomach turns.
“Still unconscious.”
“Hm! Maybe you hit him a little too hard.”
“Feel sorry for him?”
“Not at all, not at all. But you know he won’t be susceptible to pain with a concussion, don’cha know?”
Tendou keeps walking. It feels wrong to overlook the conversation the two men just had, but Tooru isn’t given many options here.
They go up yet another staircase, their shoes leaving footprints in the settled dust. Flakes of snow slip through cracks in the windows and liquify on the steel banister. The third floor mimics the first and second, with deserted corridors, only he assumes this floor must’ve acted as an office space due to the number of broken desks and cobweb-ridden chairs strewn about.
Tooru’s heart picks up speed when they round a corner and at the very end of the hallway is a door being guarded by two people. As they get closer, he immediately recognises Shirabu and Semi.
“He really came alone?” Semi doesn’t hide his surprise. Shirabu appraises Oikawa with suspicion.
The redhead shrugs. “From what I could tell. If Oika-chan has brought along his little friends, Hayate will make quick work of them. And besides, Oika-chan knows what’s at risk, don’cha? One wrong move and poor little Shouyou’s head gets blown off. We don’t want that, do we?”
“You say that as though Ushijima isn’t going to kill Shouyou anyway.” Tooru rolls his eyes.
“Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. You never really know with Waka-chan. He might want to keep Shouyou around.”
His cheek twitches. “What do you mean ‘keep him around’?”
The corners of Tendou’s mouth twist up in a fiendish grin. “Don’t know if you’ve heard, but Waka-chan is short a mate. The both of you had something to do with it, didn’cha?”
“We may have,” he says slowly.
“Well someone’s gotta take Suga’s place, and you know, once you’re dead that little bite on little Shouyou’s neck isn’t gonna do him much good no more.”
Tooru can’t help but notice that Tendou isn’t the only one smiling. Semi looks equally amused. His omega remains passive, eyes cast downwards in what Tooru hopes is guilt.
The dread creeping has now turned to a painful clawing. “What’s funny?”
Semi only shrugs. “It’s just funny how karma works.”
Chapter 35: The Last Laugh
Notes:
Yes I know, I'm late again. Had two final assessments due yesterday, so I had to give that my fullest attention, but I'm free now!! Hooray!
The trigger warning contains SPOILERS, so I've put it in the endnotes. If you want to see them, scroll all the way down and read them first.
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Shouyou is blindfolded towards the end of the car ride. He tries to get a feel for where they are heading during the trip, but whenever he pays too much attention to what’s happening outside the windows, Wakatoshi grabs the hair at the back of his head and forces him down. He can hear Kageyama’s rugged breaths from where he’s bound in the seat in front of him. He assumes he’s also blindfolded.
The kidnapping was quick and premeditated. When Wakatoshi guided him out of the bathroom, he saw that Reon and Satori had knocked Kageyama out. There was blood caking half his face and marks that looked consistent with a hard beating. No witnesses were present, a detail Shouyou thought was too convenient to be a coincidence.
They were taken out a side entrance and were bound before being shoved into a black SUV. Kenjirou was waiting in the driver’s seat. Satori slid into the passenger side, Kageyama and Reon sat in the middle seats, and Shouyou was trapped in the very back under Wakatoshi’s arm, the gun never straying from his stomach.
At some point on the way to the second location, Wakatoshi made a phone call to Tooru using Shouyou’s phone, and after sending off a brief text message, snapped it in half and threw it out the window.
Shouyou doesn’t talk much. He’s angry, but he refuses the voice in the back of his head urging him to antagonise Wakatoshi. It isn’t worth the consequences. Satori chatters away like they’re on a fast-food run, and occasionally drags the other members of Shiratorizawa into his one-sided conversation. He even occasionally taunts Kageyama with questions, knowing he’s unconscious and unable to respond.
The car parks, and Shouyou hears the sound of doors sliding open. He’s dragged out of the van by the binds on his wrists, and a pair of hands, softer and slightly smaller than Wakatoshi’s, grab hold of his arms.
“Hinata?” a voice whispers.
Conversation between the others continue somewhere distant. “… Goshiki?”
An arm wraps around his shoulders and guides him forward. “What? You’re calling me by my last name again? What happened to all that bravado you had a couple months ago?”
“It made you mad, so …”
“I don’t mind. You can call me Tsutomu.”
It’s hard to visualise the man they encountered all those months ago outside the cinemas. The omega he knew as tall and lean is still tall, but has since built a substantial amount of muscle as well. His voice hasn’t changed. It’s still delicate with a stern edge. Even now, as Tsutomu guides him, Shouyou can only picture him as the Tsutomu he once knew back in high school; a shy yet persistent kid who only wanted his leader’s approval.
Do you still love Wakatoshi like you did back then, Tsutomu?
Has reality set in yet?
Shouyou frowns behind his blindfold. “Why’re you getting all soft on me? Is it ‘cuz you know I’ll die soon? Are you hoping I won’t come back to haunt you as a ghost, because I make no promises—”
Tsutomu sighs. “No. You don’t have to worry. You’re not going to die—at least as long as Oikawa does as he’s told.”
Shouyou laughs under his breath, his tone sour. “You know, it’s kind of fucked up of you to lie to me. I may not have been as good at school as you were, but I’m not that dumb. Knowing I’m going to die isn’t going to change anything, so save me the act, alright?”
“I’m not lying.” They must’ve reached some stairs, because Tsutomu tells him to carefully lift his foot. “When Semi told us you were pregnant, I had a talk with Ushijima. He agreed that no harm would come to you or the baby as long as Oikawa dies.”
Still ‘Ushijima’ to you, is he?
“Oh, lovely. Thanks, Tsutomu, for sparing my life and the life of my unborn child in exchange for the life of my mate. That makes it so much better. You know, when my son is old enough, I’ll be sure to sit him down and tell him all about how his father died and who was responsible. I’m sure he’ll be super understanding.”
Tsutomu clutches Shouyou tighter when he almost trips up a step. “About that …”
“About what?” he snaps.
“Nothing.”
“Tsutomu …”
“Don’t worry about it. Just—we’re almost up the stairs. That’s it, just a little further …”
Tsutomu leads him through the next floor, and then up another flight of stairs and into a room. There, he’s told to kneel on the cold concrete and wait.
“Why’d you convince Wakatoshi not to kill me?” Shouyou asks after a moment of silence. “A couple months ago you were dead-set on having me murdered. What changed?”
There’s a thoughtful pause that lasts so long Shouyou is almost convinced Tsutomu left, until— “It was when we discovered you were pregnant. You might not be innocent, but your child is. My packmates were happy when they found out. They said it would make the torture leading up to your death that much better, that it would be the harshest punishment they could inflict on you and Oikawa.
“But it felt wrong to me. It horrified me—the thought of you tortured while pregnant. There have been many things I’ve stood by and overlooked while working for Shiratorizawa, but this is something I knew I couldn’t stay silent about. If I did … it would haunt me forever.”
“Good to know my life’s value is made more precious by pregnancy in your eyes. If I knew that before, I would’ve gotten pregnant a lot sooner,” Shouyou says facetiously. The hateful mood he’s in turns to frustration, and tears begin to well. “Did our friendship really mean so little to you—that you would hunt me down like a dog and drag me back to Wakatoshi to be slaughtered? And over a missing eye?”
“Hinata—”
“Shouyou. Call me by my name, Tsutomu. Don’t try and get all distant and detached now.”
He hears a creaking sigh, like a weight easing into something—a chair, maybe. “It wasn’t about the eye.”
“Then why?” He sniffs. “I thought … I thought we were friends.”
“We were friends,” Tsutomu reaffirms, sounding in pain. “I was angry that you took things so far. If you’d just sat quietly at the gathering of the tides and let things run its course, we wouldn’t even be in this situation.”
“So what you’re saying is, I only have myself to blame.”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Then what did you mean?” When Tsutomu doesn’t answer straight away, Shouyou continues: “I don’t think that’s your only reason. You love Wakatoshi. You’re obsessed with him. I think you wanted to capture us so you’d gain Wakatoshi’s favour and hoped he’d magically fall head over heels for you and the two of you would bond and make little blood-thirsty children—”
“Shut up.”
But Shouyou is at his breaking point and he can’t stop himself. “Is that why you threw away our friendship? For Wakatoshi’s knot? By the way, how are things with you and Wakatoshi now that Koushi is out of the picture—better yet, what did our kind, understanding Don do when he found out Koushi couldn’t have kids? Did he turn to you and finally realise what he was looking for was staring him right in the face all along?”
There’s silence. Shouyou readjusts himself to take some of the pressure off his thighs. “I didn’t think so.”
“Shouyou—”
A door opens and he hears footsteps approach. He knows it’s Wakatoshi. The alpha is so overbearing you can smell him coming from a mile away.
He hears metal scraping across concrete, coming to a stop in front of him, then the sound of creaking that he heard earlier. He can sense Wakatoshi sitting in front of him. Fingers gently tilt his head upward. He tenses.
“Quiet? That’s not like you.”
Shouyou swallows, beating back the chill that runs up his spine.
“Has Goshiki informed you that you won’t be dying today? You should be grateful. I was planning on cutting you open and tearing the runt from your belly.”
The image he paints, while shocking, doesn’t come as a surprise to Shouyou. He’s no stranger to the brutality rogues are capable of, let alone Dons. He knew what was in their futures if he or Tooru were ever captured.
Something—a thumb or finger—brushes across the apple of his cheek. “Has he told you what I’m going to do with you once I’ve killed Oikawa?”
“Let me go?”
Wakatoshi chuckles, and it makes him want to throw up all over himself. “Your optimism is admirable, but what good would you be to me if I let you go free?”
Right. Usefulness. He should’ve known better than to overlook that.
“E-Even if you kept me, the other Dons would never let you get away with it.”
“They might if I kept you hostage.”
Shouyou bites his lip. “I’m no good to you. I’m completely useless—a sorry excuse for an omega. You said so yourself.”
Something caresses his stomach and he flinches. The heat of a palm burns through his sweater and he wants nothing more than to cleave it from the wrist. “A miscalculation on my part. There is one use for you.”
“I-I’m Tooru’s mate. You can’t—”
“Can’t I? This bite mark,” fingers touch his scent gland and he shies away, “it’ll be void once I’ve killed Oikawa, and once your body has purged his child it’ll be wanting another to replace it.”
Shouyou inhales in a hiss, wrenching himself out of Wakatoshi’s loose grasp and pushing himself away with his legs. He doesn’t stop until his back collides with something solid—it feels like a wall.
“You’re sick,” he snarls, but it’s quickly followed by a sob. “I’ll never carry your child.”
“You don’t have a say in the matter.”
Shouyou buries his face in his knees cries softly. A question lingers in the back of his head, wondering what will happen once his son is born, but he’s too afraid to ask. Tsutomu said no harm would come to him or the baby, but said nothing on whether or not he’s allowed to keep him.
“You shouldn’t taunt him,” Tsutomu says.
“I’m merely telling him the truth.”
“There’s a time and a place—”
“Quiet, Goshiki. I didn’t give you permission to speak.”
Shouyou hears the clap of a foot stomping against the concrete. “I don’t need your permission to speak! This is fucked up, even for your standards. You’ve been droning on about this ‘eye for an eye’ bullshit for years and now you’ve finally got Shouyou, instead of enacting a punishment equal to what he did to you, you’re going to kill Oikawa and keep Shouyou as a sex slave. That’s hardly fair!”
“It is fair. If the punishment were to be equal, we would have to stand on equal footing, but we don’t. I am a Don, he is a rogue and an omega. Hinata must be reminded of his place—as should you.”
There’s a knock at the door, then a voice (he thinks it might be Taichi) speaks: “Oikawa is here.”
Shouyou’s organs drop through the floor.
“No,” he whispers.
“Have Tendou bring him up.”
The door closes.
It can’t be true. Tooru shouldn’t be here—he can’t be here. He tries tapping into their connection to warn him, but he’s so stressed and overwhelmed that he can’t get through to him.
Someone stands and walks towards him. He can tell by the weight behind the footfalls that it must be Wakatoshi. The shoes halt. Shouyou’s heart beats like a humming bird’s wings.
“Oikawa will die tonight, and I will make sure you watch every second of it. I want you to remember it in the future, when you’re lying awake at night planning your escape.”
“Please … You don’t have to do this. Leave Tooru out of this. I’ll come with you willingly, I’ll be a good omega and do whatever you want, just please don’t kill him.” Hot tears spill and stain the blindfold over his eyes. Bitterness hits the back of his throat, and he swallows it back with effort.
“You can’t give me what you want while Oikawa lives.” Wakaotshi’s voice is closer, like he’s kneeling down to Shouyou’s level. “Otherwise every moment we’re together your mind will still be with him—when I kiss you, when I hold you, when I fuck you. If I allow that, I’m no better than a cuckold.”
A hand grasps his face and forces it forwards, the bone and muscles of his jaw aching beneath the harsh touch. “Thank me.”
Shouyou shivers. “Thank you for what?”
“For sparing your life.”
He writhes, trying to yank his face from Wakatoshi’s grip, but the alpha only holds him tighter. Wakatoshi releases a deep growl that has Shouyou recoiling. “Thank me, Hinata Shouyou, or I’ll reconsider sparing the life of your pup.”
“That’s not the deal you made!” Shouyou hears Tsutomu say from somewhere in the room. “You can’t just change the plan like that.”
“Goshiki, shut up.”
“No! You can’t just—”
“No harm will come to the baby, all Hinata has to do is thank me.”
His head is tilted to the side, breath fanning his cheek. “So?”
Hatred doesn’t come naturally to Shouyou. He’s an extrovert, a lover of conversation and connection. He has a keen interest in people and their personal lives. There are a handful of bad apples he’s encountered over the years; shady characters that typically dwelled in Lower Tokyo, or a few alphas from Upper Tokyo who felt the world owed them something. Shouyou holds no grudges or ill-will towards those people, regardless of what they said or did.
He doesn’t even wish death upon the members of Shiratorizawa, as much as they’ve made his life a living hell in recent months.
But Shouyou thinks, in this moment, that he truly hates Wakatoshi with every fibre of his being. That Wakatoshi’s death would be the only cure to his roiling resentment, and god—he hopes it’s Tooru who delivers it.
Shouyou swallows. “Thank … you.”
“For what?”
He grits his teeth. “For sparing my life.”
Another knock at the door interrupts whatever condescension Wakatoshi has ready, and the Don beckons whoever is on the other side. Multiple footsteps enter, and then he hears the voice of someone he desperately needs, but also hoped would not come.
“Shouyou!”
The hand is gone, and Shouyou slumps over, sobbing. “What are you doing here? Why did you have to come, Tooru? You should’ve stayed away. You shouldn’t have come.”
“Oikawa. It’s been a while,” Wakatoshi says, sounding near, but no longer facing his direction. “You must really love Hinata, if you’ve come to me willingly.”
“That’s rich. You talk about love as if you’ve felt it before.”
There’s a struggle of some sort, but Shouyou can’t tell what’s happening exactly. He hears Tooru groan and hit the floor, and he pulls at the restraints binding his wrists behind his back.
“Your marksmanship is unparalleled,” Wakatoshi says, “but your combat always left something to be desired.”
Footsteps approach Shouyou once again, this time the blindfold is yanked from his eyes. He blinks, vision adjusting. They’re in a barren room, with dusty concrete floors and water-stained walls. A few aged crates are pressed up against the back wall to his right beneath a row of frosted windows, and a single light illuminates from the centre of the room. Two people stand straight on either side of the single door leading in and out, who he recognises as Hoshiumi and Hirugami. Tsutomu and Taichi linger at the edge of the room as if to distance themselves from the action.
In the middle is Tooru, bent over clutching his stomach like he’s just been punched. Wakatoshi was the one to remove Shouyou’s blindfold. He grabs him by the arm and yanks him closer so that he’s kneeling before Tooru.
“Tooru,” Shouyou whispers, eyebrows pinched.
“Hey beautiful,” Tooru smiles through a cough, wiping the edge of his mouth. “He hasn’t touched you, as he?”
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Sitting up, his mate laughs. “That’s not what princesses should say when their princes come to save them!”
Shouyou’s lips tremble, tears back in full swing. “Idiot. You’re thinking of a knight.”
“Oh, silly me.”
“Taichi, my tools.” Wakatoshi rolls his sleeves up to his biceps and grabs Shouyou’s hair. “Hinata, if I see you take your eyes away from Oikawa, I’ll only make it worse for him, do you understand?”
“Waka—” Shouyou squeals when Ushijima yanks at his ear.
“Do you understand?”
Tooru throws himself at Wakatoshi, landing an uppercut to his jaw. The Don stumbles back and his men react, Hirugami jerking Tooru away from Wakatoshi and Hoshiumi striking him hard in the gut. Tooru bulks over and coughs.
“’nchu fucking touch him!” Tooru snarls, bucking in Hirugami’s hold.
“Tooru!” Shouyou screams.
Wakatoshi, to his credit, doesn’t fly at Tooru in a fit of rage. He massages his jaw and calmly directs Taichi over to one of the crates, where a satchel full of metal objects is laid out for him. Tsutomu shifts uncomfortably in the corner near the door, as if he’s seriously contemplating leaving. A sick side of Tooru wants Tsutomu to stay, to face the ugliness inside Wakatoshi that his loyalty refuses to acknowledge.
“What do you want us to do with him?” Hoshiumi looks at Wakatoshi over his shoulder. “You want us to rough him up a little bit? I can break his hand if you want.”
“No. But get him on his knees. Make sure he’s close to Hinata. I don’t want him to miss anything.”
They do just that, and Shouyou almost can’t believe his own eyes when Tooru is forced to his knees in front of him and his mate has the audacity to smile.
“You know, if you wanted me to suck your dick, Toshi-kun, all you had to do was ask nicely. It wouldn’t be our first time,” Tooru teases, his voice strained.
“Tooru,” Shouyou whimpers. “Stop provoking him. You’re only going to make things worse!”
“Aw, Shou-chan. I think it’s cute how worried you are for me. You’re such a good omega.” Tooru winks, and Shouyou blinks, dumbfounded. “Did you know that Toshi-kun and I used to be lovers? That’s right—he used to hold me tenderly at night and whisper sweet nothings in my ear. On the weekends he’d take me out to dinner and buy me expensive gifts. Who would’ve thought that the great Don Ushijima had a soft side to him?”
Shouyou could only look at his mate in horror. He doesn’t know what Tooru is playing at, but for his sake he wishes he’d stop.
“The sex was a total bore though. Toshi-kun never let me have any fun! Always had to be the dominant one, always had to be the top—what’s the point of a gay relationship if there’s no versatility? If he wanted to treat me like an omega he should’ve just mated with an omega—but oh, he liked that I’m an alpha. He liked it a lot. Between you and me, I think he secretly wanted to be dominated but was too much of a coward to—”
Shouyou sees the hand right before it strikes Tooru across the face. Tooru’s head snaps to the side, Wakatoshi towering over him. Shouyou bites back a cry.
“You were only ever a means to an end,” Wakatoshi snarls. “Nothing more.”
Emotion—not quite hurt but something like it—flickers briefly in Tooru’s eyes, but is chased away by the grin that tightens his cheeks. “You didn’t have to fuck me to get my help, Toshi-kun. You did that of your own volition.”
What happens next is hard for Shouyou is comprehend. The door slams open at the same time the windows lining the back wall shatter. He spies who he thinks is Iwaizumi and Kageyama bursting through the entrance, guns brandished. Wakatoshi has his own gun in his hand in seconds, pointing it directly between Shouyou’s eyes. He only has time to gasp before Tooru tackles him and the gun goes off, and that’s what starts a chain reaction of gunfire that echoes deafeningly in the room.
Tooru cradles a hand to the back of Shouyou’s head and keeps him pinned firmly to the ground. All Shouyou can do is squeeze his eyes shut and hope that nothing hits them. Something warm and sticky wets his shoulder, and Shouyou looks down and realises there’s blood soaking his sweater.
“Tooru?” he murmurs, but it gets lost in the cacophony of noise.
When there’s a ceasefire, and the last of the shell casings clink against the floor, Shouyou dares to open his eyes and look around them. Tsutomu is curled up in the corner with his hands on his ears, frazzled but unharmed; Hirugami lies in a pool of his own blood, unmoving, and Hoshiumi is nursing a bullet wound in his neck and rapidly losing consciousness.
His eyes hadn’t deceived him. Iwaizumi and Kageyama are there, along with a modicum of familiar faces: Bokuto, Akaashi, Atsumu, Sakusa; as well as the rest of Seijoh and a couple members of Inarizaki.
Tooru pulls away slightly, clutching his shoulder. Shouyou realises he’s been shot.
“Tooru,” he whispers in concern, but Tooru ignores him, urging Shouyou onto his side so he can release him from his restraints.
“It seems I overestimated your love for Hinata,” Wakatoshi says. He stands unscathed by the crates save for a minor laceration across his left brow, spilling a curtain of blood over his one eye that he struggles to blink away. By his feet, Taichi sits clutching a bullet wound to his side.
The ceasefire, Shouyou realises, was imposed the moment Ushijima cocked his gun in their direction.
“Don’t you remember, Toshi-kun?” Tooru continues to tease. “I love nobody more than I love myself.”
The moment Tooru has Shouyou free from his confines, he makes a subtle signal to Iwaizumi. His friend pulls something out and throws it at Tooru, and Shouyou doesn’t realise what it is until Tooru catches it and points it at Wakatoshi. Shouyou only has time to suck in his breath before two gunshots go off, one from Wakatoshi’s gun, and the other from Tooru’s.
Wakatoshi collapses to the floor and Tooru clutches his stomach. Tsutomu screams.
“You might’ve been good at combat, but your marksmanship was shitty at best,” Tooru groans, collapsing backwards.
Shouyou catches him, cradling his mate against him. “Oh god—Tooru. Your stomach!”
Red runs over Tooru’s fingers as he clutches the wound, his breath shaky. Iwaizumi and the rest of Seijoh crowd around, along with Kageyama, who kneels by Tooru’s leg. The rest secure the area.
Hanamaki pulls out his phone. “I’ll call an ambulance.”
Tooru clutches Iwaizumi’s arm, releasing a shuddered breath. “You know, Iwa-chan … my sixth sense …”
Iwaizumi blinks rapidly, his jaw tense. “This is hardly the time for that, idiot.”
“Shhh, just listen … my sixth sense, it’s telling me this is it.”
“Don’t joke about shit like that, Trashykawa.”
“Not joking … I know it. I feel it. This is how I die.”
“Shut up!” Iwaizumi yells, clutching his friend tightly. Tears run down Shouyou’s face and he starts sobbing. “Makki’s on the phone to the ambulance. They’re on their way just—hang on a little longer!”
Tooru smiles bitterly. “I didn’t deserve a friend like you, Iwa-chan—I didn’t deserve a pack like Seijoh. You know, when I thought about … fantasised about being the next Don … you were all there, but my side. I wanted that for us … I wanted to see us there …”
The reality of what’s happening quickly sinks in, and half the Seijoh members break down in tears. Yahaba clutches Tooru’s other hand, and Matsukawa applies pressure to the stomach wound. Kindaichi is sniffing, clutching at Tooru’s shirt, and Kunimi stares up at the ceiling, eyes brimming with tears. Kyoutani lingers behind the rest, gaze intense, and Watari comforts his younger packmates.
“Shou-chan.” Shouyou brushes Tooru’s hair out of his face, gazing down at him through his own tears. Tooru reaches up, bloody fingers grazing Shouyou’s chin. “I wanted us to get married.”
Shouyou sobs. “We will get married, dummy. I’d marry you right here if I could.”
Tooru smiles. “I’m glad. Iwa-chan agreed to be my best man.”
“Of course I agreed,” Iwaizumi rasps, holding himself back. “You’re my best friend.”
Tooru’s eyes slide to Kageyama, who’s been quiet this entire time. “Tobio-chan?”
The younger alpha snaps his gaze up to meet Tooru’s, shocked that he’s even been acknowledge.
“I’m sorry … for everything.”
Kageyama nods rapidly, pressing his lips together.
“Shouyou, I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Iwa-chan, Makki, Mattsun … Yahaba, Watari, Kyoutani … Kindaichi … Kunimi … Thank you.”
Matsukawa gives a shuddered breath. “Hajime … There’s too much blood.”
“Press harder!” Iwaizumi snaps.
“I’m pressing as hard as I can!”
“Oh … and Tobio-chan?”
Kageyama looks up, barely holding back his own tears. “Y-Yes?”
Tooru places a hand on Shouyou’s stomach and presses a kiss to it. “Let the record show … that I had the last laugh.”
They watch in stunned silence as Tooru’s eyes slide closed and he grows still, a content smile coiling the corners of his mouth.
Notes:
TW: violence, threats of rape & forced pregnancy, major character death.
I don't really know what to say. You all thought OiHina would be endgame :O
Chapter 36: We Fly Together (Again)
Notes:
I promise I'll respond to everyone's comments over the next few days. For now, enjoy!!
(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)
Chapter Text
Epilogue
5 Years Later
On occasion, Koushi will sometimes catch Tobio staring intently at Tooru. He never did it when Tooru was a baby, but around the time he began to walk and talk, Tobio would randomly go very quiet and stare at the child as if deeply disturbed.
This puzzled Koushi at first. Whenever he asked Tobio what was wrong, he’d snap out of his stupor, shake his head and say: “It’s nothing.”
Over time though, as Tooru got a little older, Koushi came to his own conclusion as to why Tobio stared at his son in such a way. By all accounts, Hinata Tooru is the spitting image of the man he’s named after—his biological father, Oikawa Tooru. A head of effortless, windswept brown hair sits above twin pools of chocolate brown eyes. The shape of Tooru’s nose, the structure of his face and even the pull of his smile are signs of the heartbreaker he’s destined to grow into, and Koushi wonders just how Tobio will cope when that happens.
Tobio stares at Tooru from across the low table as his son scarfs down a bowl of rice. Daichi (his little brother) kneels beside Tooru, Tobio’s mini clone. Shouyou often complains that neither of his sons have a lick of Shouyou’s blood in them, and visits the shrine every weekend and prays that Haruko (their daughter-to-be) is born with fiery orange hair.
Tooru catches Tobio’s stare and blinks owlishly. “Dad? What is it? Is there something on my face?”
Tobio’s face softens. Without saying a word, he reaches across the table and rubs a speck of rice from the corner of his oldest son’s mouth. Tooru looks at Koushi in confusion. He hides his smile behind his hand and shrugs, feigning ignorance.
“You’re weird, Dad,” Tooru says, polishing off the rest of his bowl.
Tobio blinks. “Weird?”
“Yeah.”
“Oh. Sorry.”
Tooru grins, and for just a moment, a little bit of Shouyou shines through. “That’s OK. Are you coming with us to pay respects?”
Tobio shakes his head. “Your mother isn’t feeling well. I should stay and look after him.”
Daichi glares at down at his lap with a face too serious to be on a toddler. “Haruko’s fault.”
“It’s not your sister’s fault,” Koushi reassures, stacking the dirty dishes to take to the sink. “Besides, in a month or so, she’ll be born and mummy will be good as new. You just have to be patient.”
Shouyou couldn’t get out of bed this morning. When he tried, he got vertigo and burrowed further into the blankets. His first two pregnancies were such walks in the park they all assumed Haruko would be the same; but around the five-month mark it became clear that wouldn’t be the case.
It’s not a bother, though. While Shouyou rests, Koushi is happy to take on extra chores and look after the kids.
As he places the dishes in the sink, he catches the time on the clock above the kitchen counter. “Tooru, why don’t you take your brother and go put your shoes on? I’ll quickly wash these dishes and we can go pay respects together.”
Tooru nods, taking Daichi’s hand and gently tugging his brother into the hallway and out of sight. Tobio watches them go, his face pensive.
“What are you thinking when you look at them?” Koushi wonders aloud, running the water as he waits for it to warm up.
“It’s strange,” Tobio admits after a moment. The pause was so long Koushi assumed he wouldn’t answer. “When I look at Tooru and Daichi getting along, I can’t help but think of myself and Oikawa. Like I’m looking at our relationship in a parallel universe.”
“Except in the same universe,” Koushi hums. “It is eery how similar they take after their namesakes. But I think Tooru has more Shouyou than Oikawa in his personality.”
Tobio snorts. “That’s probably why they get along, then. If Tooru were like his father, he’d be pushing Daichi over and teasing him a lot.”
“Careful. They’re not quite there yet. Just wait ‘til they’re teenagers and we’ll see whether Oikawa’s spirit has latched itself to his son.”
Tobio winces. “Let’s not talk about that. I like them as they are.”
“I do too.”
Koushi is almost done with the dishes when Tooru comes barrelling back into the kitchen, yanking at Koushi’s hakama. “Come on, Jii-Jii! Let’s go, let’s go! We’ve been waiting ages!”
“It’s only been five minutes.” Koushi laughs, but finishes up and pulls loose his apron.
Daichi is waiting patiently by the door, his Velcro shoes strapped to his tiny feet. Sliding into his sandals, he takes Daichi’s hand and follows a rambunctious Tooru out the front door.
The sweetness of spring hits his nose as they cross the compound, early morning light breaking over the sleepy farmland stretching across the district of Misaki. Rai and Kumo bound out of the house, and Tooru squeals and gives chase; Daichi clings tighter to Koushi, nervous whenever the dogs are in a rowdy mood.
Yuu and Ryuu are already shin-deep in the rice fields, and both turn to wave at them as they pass lower down the hill’s incline. Kiyoko isn’t sitting on the bench swing outside the front of the Tanaka house, so she must be picking strawberries in one of the greenhouses with Chouko.
They take a small dirt path that forks off from the main road, grass and daisies sprouting on either side of them. Blossom petals dance at their feet as they approach two lovingly maintained gravestones; one for Sawamura Daichi, and one for Oikawa Tooru.
The doctors said Daichi would live five months, but he ended up living seven. As promised, he died surrounded by his pack.
‘When we fly, we fly together.’
It was Daichi’s last words, and the quote etched into his gravestone just below his name.
Life for Karasuno didn’t work out exactly as Daichi would’ve wanted. They couldn’t all stay together, physically at least, but they are together in spirit. After Daichi’s passing, Tadashi and Hitoka went back to Hawaii, and Tsukishima joined Nekoma’s pack. The rest of them moved out to Yuu and Asahi’s farm in Misaki. They gave the double house to Koushi, Shouyou, Tobio and newborn Tooru; while Tanaka, Kiyoko and baby Chouko got the other single-storey house.
Thank goodness for Yuu and Asahi, else Koushi doesn’t know what they would’ve done.
Suffering was a cold shared among all the Karasuno packmates throughout the year that followed Daichi’s death. None felt it more so than Shouyou, who’d lost a mate and a leader only months apart, and struggled with bouts of post-natal depression after the birth of Tooru on top of that. The entire pack flocked to care for Shouyou, with Koushi and Tobio at arm’s reach if he ever needed them. It was tough, and sometimes they still feel the remnants of trauma overcome them; but they always pull through, eventually.
A blanket of cherry blossom petals fell on the gravestones overnight. Tooru gets on his tippytoes to politely brush them away, and Daichi kicks some stray leaves that have no business falling at the feet of this sacred place.
“Shall we pray?” Koushi asks them, and the children nod.
Pulling his hakama up slightly, Koushi eases onto his knees. Daichi and Tooru do the same, settling either side of him. Koushi plucks incense from out of his sleeve and lights it, placing it in the space separating them. They bow, then close their eyes.
Day in, day out, sick or tired, Koushi always comes to visit Daichi’s and Oikawa’s gravestones. Shouyou or Tobio usually accompany him. When the other members of Karasuno aren’t busy, they will join as well. Tooru and Daichi used to be brought along out of necessity, since they were too young to be left alone, but as they grew older, they started visiting the graves on their own volition. Koushi doesn’t know if they fully understand what graves are and who they’re meant to represent, but they’re old enough to sense they are tied in some way to Koushi and the rest of the pack.
Prayers and respects have shifted naturally into a time of meditation and reflection. Koushi focuses on the happier memories, distancing himself from those last few months of Daichi’s life.
He likes to imagine himself across the table from Daichi, conversing over cups of tea. Koushi would update him on all that’s happening on the farm: ‘This year yielded an excellent harvest. You should’ve seen the amount of produce we took to the markets!’; ‘Little Daichi learnt the word “car” today. I don’t think he understands what it means. He points at anything with four legs and calls them “car”’; ‘Yuu and Ryuu have really gotten into fishing lately. On Saturday, they brought back a massive carp—I’m talking bigger than Asahi’s calf!’ It comforts him to know that Daichi is out there somewhere, listening.
Now that he thinks of it, he’s never asked what the children think of when they pray.
As they make their way back to the house, he asks them as much. Daichi doesn’t fully grasp the question, but Tooru says, “I just say ‘thank you for protecting us’. I don’t know what the guardians look like, but I think they look like cloud people.”
“Guardians?”
Tooru nods. “Aren’t they? Mum says they protect us. Isn’t that what a guardian is?”
“Oh, yes.” Koushi beams. “I suppose they are guardians, aren’t they?”
“Why do they have our names though?”
Daichi blinks up at him, also curious to know.
“They’re very special to our pack. Shouyou named the both of you after them in honour of their memory.”
The children don’t fully understand what that means, but they take it at face value and move on to another subject. One day they will learn the truth of the people behind their names, but for now, Sawamura and Oikawa are their guardians.
The dogs are barking up something fierce as they trek back up the dirt road. Koushi doesn’t think much of it until they see a familiar car parked in their driveway. It seems to have only just arrived, because the driver kills the engine and three doors open.
“Uncle Iwa!” Tooru tears down the road and into Hajime’s awaiting arms.
Kuroo pouts, placing his hands on his hips. “Oi! Uncle Kuroo is here too!”
“You’re not their uncle,” Kei deadpans, coming around the car to give Koushi a hug.
“My, my, I thought the two of you were only coming for dinner. And you brought Iwaizumi!” His eyes flicker to Tooru’s godfather, then back to Kei. “What a wonderful surprise.”
“We figured, since we’re coming down anyway, we’d get here a little earlier and spend the day. Iwaizumi invited himself.” Kei rolls his eyes.
“Well, when Bokuto mentioned you guys were coming down, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see my godson now could I?” Hajime hoists the giggling Tooru up into his arms and ruffles his hair.
The issue of godfathers caused a bit of drama among the rogues back in San Tokyo. Shouyou, being too nice to know how to give rejection, promised too many people the position of godfather to Tooru, so when Hajime was picked shortly after Tooru’s birth, Seijoh and the rest of West Side were deeply offended. Koushi was appointed Tooru’s godmother, but being one of the few omegas in Shouyou’s life, there wasn’t as much competition.
In the end, it didn’t really matter.
All the rogues that come and visit them treat Shouyou’s children as their own.
Daichi glares up at Kei, and Kei glares right back. Koushi snorts and punches him playfully in the ribcage. “He’s a three-year-old.”
“He looks exactly like Tobio.”
“I know.”
“It’s creepy.”
“Naw, I think he’s adorable.” Scooping said three-year-old up into his arms, Kei and Daichi are now at eye-level with each other.
Without hesitation, Daichi plucks the glasses from Kei’s nose and turns them over in his tiny hands. “What’s this?”
Kei grabs them back. “I need those to see.”
“Why? Are your eyes broken?”
Kuroo seems to have caught the tail-end of the conversation and folds over the hood of his car, cackling. Kei pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, a light blush dusting his cheeks.
Tobio comes out to greet them on the porch, Shouyou under his arm.
“Mum!” Tooru and Daichi squirm out of Koushi’s and Hajime’s arms and simultaneously bolt down the road towards their mother.
Shouyou eases to his knees to greet them, grinning as he pulls them into his arms. “Sorry I couldn’t come pay respects today. Maybe, if I’m feeling better, we can go again later in the afternoon?”
The children hoot, but their eagerness is likely attributed to the promise of spending more time with their mother than revisiting the graves. They recede back into the house, the children clinging to Shouyou’s kimono, and only let go when Kuroo suggests they go up to their playroom and show him their newest toys.
Tobio gives Shouyou a foot massage as they sit on the mats in the lounge room, and Koushi sets down a tray of coffee, tea and freshly made mochi for their guests.
“How long now?” Kei asks Shouyou, sifting through the postcards he’d plucked from their fridge to read. Kei gets his own from Tadashi and Hitoka, but he makes a habit of also reading the ones sent to them as well.
“Mid-May.” Shouyou sighs. “This is the last one. No more children after this.”
“Funny, I recall you said something similar after having Daichi.”
Tobio goes pink and Shouyou slaps a hand over his mouth. “Yeah, well, Haruko is determined to be born so, here we are.”
Kei shrugs and goes back to quietly reading the postcards. The latest one is from Tadashi and arrived about a week ago. He mostly reiterates a lot of news that he tells Koushi and the others over phone or video chat, but he gets photos developed and sends them along with the postcards for the kids to enjoy. Tadashi and Hitoka are planning to visit after Haruko is born and have been collecting a treasure chest of presents since their last visit home two years prior.
Tadashi has since enshrined himself as ‘Cool Uncle’ in Tooru and Chouko’s books, much to Yuu’s chagrin.
“I’m surprised you came, Haijme. From what we’ve heard, things have kept you busy in San Tokyo,” Koushi says.
Hajime adds sugar to his coffee and stirs. “I’m going to be honest; I didn’t come here just to see my godson and—” he meets Koushi’s eyes briefly before looking away “—the rest of you. I came here to speak with Shouyou.”
Rubbing the corners of his eyes tiredly, Shouyou rests his arms on the bulge of his stomach, the sleeves of his kimono bunching around his elbows. “You came all the way here just to speak with me? Jeez, Hajime, you know you’re free to call me at any time, right?”
“I know but …” Hajime trails off in thought, his eyes drawn to the family pictures littering the mantlepiece above the fireplace. “It didn’t feel right talking over the phone. It’s something I feel is best said in person. Besides, it gave me an excuse to come down and see the kids.”
Shouyou rolls his eyes with barely contained amusement. “Honestly, that’s a better excuse than some of the stuff the others come up with. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you rogues have been bitten by country fever.”
“It’s a nice break from all the bullshit going down in San Tokyo. I think you’ve inspired Bokuto to start his own family.”
The omega quirks an eyebrow. “How does Akaashi feel about that?”
Hajime winces. “Still trying to talk Bokuto out of it, unsuccessfully.”
“Maybe we can build another house on the farm for them?” Koushi teases.
Tobio groans. “People are going to start thinking we’ve created our own commune.”
“Or started a crime syndicate,” Shouyou snorts. “The locals will accuse us of hogging all the land in Misaki and using its soil to grow the devil’s leaf.”
“They’ll run us off with their torches and pitchforks!” Koushi laughs.
“The horror!”
Kei rolls his eyes. “Idiots. All of you.”
Koushi hooks an arm around Kei’s neck. “I raised this boy when he was only 175 centimetres tall—a tiny thing compared to what he is now—and this is how he shows his respect? Some things never change.”
Nibbling on a piece of mochi (one of the few snacks that doesn’t curdle Shouyou’s appetite), the ginger omega turns his thoughtful gaze on Hajime. “So what is it that you needed to talk with me about? Does this involve Bokuto?”
“Sort of,” Hajime admits. “It’s about the state of San Tokyo in general.”
San Tokyo’s crime rate is at an all-time high since Ushijima’s assassination, even worse than it had been in the months leading up to his death. The remaining members of Shiratorizawa eluded West Side custody and returned to South Side to rally support from the packs that were loyal to them. Traditionally, the one to kill a Don then takes their place, and with Oikawa dead the position should then go to his second-in-command, Hajime. Shiratorizawa argue that Oikawa died by Ushijima’s hands, and therefore power over South Side should go to Tendou, and this locked dispute begun another gang war that’s still going on to this day.
From news reports, and the personal anecdotes shared by the packs they remain in contact with, Koushi is grateful they left when they did. The city wasn’t ideal to raise children in to begin with, and now it’s all but devolved into an urban hellscape.
Shouyou gives Hajime his full attention, and Seijoh’s leader continues: “For the past couple years, we assumed that Tendou was orchestrating the hostile attacks against the East and West, since he was Ushijima’s second-in-command and his potential replacement for South Side’s seat. But a pack that’s recently defected from Shiratorizawa have delivered us new information that suggests that it’s actually Goshiki Tsutomu leading the charge.”
“Tsutomu,” Shouyou echoes, caught off guard. “Are you certain?”
Hajime nods. “The defectors swear by it.”
“Who’s the pack that defected?”
“Date.”
The sigh Shouyou releases is sad and defeated. “Tobio told me Tsutomu and Kanji dated for a little while back in high school. If a pack as loyal as Date have turned their backs on Shiratorizawa, then their information must be credible. As for Tsutomu … he really is lost, if he thinks he has anything to gain by fighting for the Don’s seat. If I had to guess, he probably just doesn’t want Seijoh taking South Side.”
“Oikawa did kill the love of his life.” Koushi sighs.
“This new information is the reason I’ve come to speak with you,” Hajime says. “You were close with Goshiki at a point in time, were you not?”
“That’s ancient history, Hajime.”
“But you were, weren’t you? Koganegawa claims he spoke of you often.”
Shouyou’s eyes soften. “Our friendship isn’t what it used to be. He was willing to hunt me down after stabbing Wakatoshi in the eye. I can only imagine what he’d do to me now that Wakatoshi is dead.”
“You have a way of getting through to him, though. Maybe if you spoke with him—”
Shouyou places down his chopsticks. “Let me get this straight: you want me to go back to San Tokyo, find Tsutomu, and convince him to end the war?”
Running a hand through his hair, Hajime says, “Look—I’m at the end of my rope here. People are dying every day, and not just rogues, but innocent people as well. Senators and lawmakers are being pressured to revoke power from the Dons altogether, and they’ll continue to be pressured so long as the streets of San Tokyo remain a warzone. Please, if not for me, do it for West Side.”
Tobio clenches his fists in his lap. “Shouyou doesn’t owe West Side anything! He didn’t ask to be traded off to them like a cow, he didn’t ask for any involvement with Seijoh or Fukuroudani! We let you into our home and we let you have a relationship with Tooru out of respect for Oikawa, but you have no right to ask Shouyou—”
“Tobio.” Shouyou reaches over and clutches Tobio’s wrist. “It’s alright. Let me handle this.” Tobio relaxes, easily subdued by the omega’s mark on his scent gland. “If I felt that I could change something, that my words or actions could sway the war in Fukuroudani and Seijoh’s favour, I would’ve involved myself a long time ago. But I’m afraid, even with Tsutomu in command, I don’t think I can be of much help.”
Hajime visibly deflates. “You won’t even try?”
“Do you think I’m in a position to be taking risks?” Shouyou places a hand on his belly. “What if I go to San Tokyo and never return? I have a newborn on the way and two other babies to look after. What will you tell them when they’re grown and asking where I am? What will you say then?”
Hajime shifts awkwardly, blindsided by the question. “We wouldn’t let that happen. We’d keep you safe.”
“Is my safety guaranteed?” Shouyou tilts his head. “The protection of both the West and the East didn’t stop Wakatoshi from kidnapping me, and it cost Tooru his life. I wouldn’t go back to San Tokyo, even if I had Japan’s entire military there to escort me.”
Understanding that there’s no way of convincing Shouyou otherwise, Hajime bows his head. “I apologise. It was stupid of me to suggest.”
“It’s OK. I understand. A lot of people are relying on you to end this war and assume the South Side seat. It must be a lot to deal with.”
“I … If you don’t want me around anymore, I get it. I can try and get a taxi out to Okayama and take the train back to San Tokyo. I won’t bother you—”
“Nonsense.” Shouyou beams, waving off Hajime. “Stay with us. You can leave with Tetsu and Kei in the evening. Besides, I plan on visiting Tooru and Daichi later, and I’ll need someone to accompany me.”
Tobio pouts. “I thought I was going to accompany you.”
“The more the merrier! I’m sure Tetsu and Kei will come along as well, and oh—! I could convince Noya and the others to join in as well. We can organise a little picnic. It’s such a lovely day outside!”
Koushi makes a noise of approval. “I’ll prepare some eggrolls and sausages for the kids.”
Shouyou bounces on his heels, clapping excitedly. “Oh, they’ll love that!”
It’s mid-afternoon when they’ve made all the necessary arrangements. Kiyoko and Koushi prepare bentos for everyone, which are then wrapped up in neat handles of fabric with metal chopsticks looped through them. Shouyou fans himself, gripping the nook of Tobio’s elbow, as they lead the pack down the dirt trail towards the gravestones. Ryuu has the picnic blanket rolled up over his shoulder, and Yuu hugs a jug of fresh lemonade. Asahi is at work, but promised to get off early and come join them later before their visitors leave.
Tooru and Chouko chase each other through the fields of daisies. Daichi runs after them, but isn’t fast enough to be part of the action.
Koushi links arms with Hajime, giving his bicep a squeeze. The spikey-haired alpha looks down at him, cheeks dusted pinker than the cherry blossoms scattered at their feet. “San Tokyo has been dragging you down for too long, Hajime. Is being the Don of South Side really something you want for yourself? Or are you trying to fulfill Oikawa’s dream out of some moral obligation?”
Ryuu whips the blanket out under the shade of a cherry blossom tree nearby, and they go about setting everything up. Shouyou gets out his phone and facetimes Tadashi and Hitoka, the others screaming their hellos over his shoulder.
Hajime and Koushi stop before Oikawa’s and Daichi’s graves. “Oikawa might’ve wanted that for himself, but are you sure that’s what he would’ve wanted for you?”
The alpha shrugs. “I don’t know,” he says honestly. “But what can I do? Seijoh want to keep fighting, they want to bring peace to the only home they’ve ever known. I can’t abandon them.”
“No, but instead of fighting ‘til the last pack is standing, you could work towards a peaceful resolution with Shiratorizawa instead.”
Hajime’s face screws up. “They’ve killed—”
“I know what they’ve done. We’ve also killed a lot of their men and women too. And I’m not saying you have to; I’m just saying that maybe you should consider it.”
“Goshiki wants South Side.”
“Then give it to him.”
“Ushijima—”
“Ushijima is dead.” Koushi looks up at Hajime, his grip tightening. “I don’t know what kind of Don Goshiki will be, but I know he won’t be anything like Ushijima.”
“There’s never been an omega Don before.”
“Maybe it’s time for a change?”
Hajime appraises Oikawa’s gravestone, exhales through his nose. “I feel like a cigarette.”
Koushi rolls his eyes. “Don’t start. I have a nicotine patch in the medicine cabinet if you need it.”
There’s a pause, and then Hajime shakes his head. “I think I’ll be fine.”
Sliding his arm out from Hajime’s, he tugs him towards the picnic. The children are climbing all over Kei like a tree and Kuroo is having too much fun taking pictures to help him out.
“I’ll join in a bit.”
Koushi smiles, placing a kiss to Hajime’s cheek and leaves to join the others. Hajime stares at Oikawa’s gravestone for a while, the corners of his mouth twitching up in a smile, and then he joins the rest of the pack under the cherry blossom tree.
*
(Haruko is born with apricot curls and deep blue eyes. Shouyou cries with relief.)
Notes:
Ahhh so sad that it's finally over! I just wanted to thank everyone so much for following along with my story and leaving all your encouraging comments. I really appreciate it!
And I also hope y'all aren't *too* mad I killed off Oikawa. At least his spirit can live on through his son!
Until next time~! <3
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