Chapter Text
The ingredients for curry are all laid out on the kitchen counter: one and a half pounds of thinly-sliced pork belly; two large packages of seafood mushrooms; a small head of hakusai cabbage; six pre-peeled carrots; one large yellow onion; dashi, curry blocks, garlic, sesame oil, and other assorted seasonings. Tooru's prepared the wok, set out the pot to boil water for hot-spring eggs toward the end. The rice cooker was turned on ten minutes ago. In half an hour they'll have four cups, fresh and ready to serve.
The rest of the house is spotless, with everything put away nicely; Takeru is occupied with his video game in the living room, so the kitchen is free of the biggest potential distraction. Tooru's father will return home soon with dessert.
Yes, everything is perfect, everything is going according to plan.
Everything except...
"Tooru, are you sure you know what you're doing?"
With all the patience of a canonized saint, Tooru turns his attention to his two sous-chefs, giving them his most beatific smile.
"Yes," Tooru responds sweetly, for what feels like the hundredth time this night. "This is the recipe that Tobio likes. I've made it before. So."
"But..." Rui raises her brows, gestures vaguely to the counter with a scandalized expression. "Where's the ginger? And why do you have mushrooms? And cabbage? What kind of curry is this?"
Tooru pinches the space between his brows, right above the bridge of his nose. "Mom, I—"
"Okay, okay," Kanna interjects, apparently convinced enough to relent and diffuse the situation. "Mom, let's trust Tooru. He probably won't burn the house down."
"Oi," Tooru grunts.
Rui withers a little. "I know, I know. It's just... I was hoping to cook something for tonight. I didn't expect you to take over, Tooru." She frowns. "It should be your family's role to make the first dinner he has here."
"Well, I wanted to make something I know he likes," Tooru replies. "And... I won't have too many more opportunities to cook for him. At least not for a while."
The kitchen is silent. The only sound comes from the living room television, muted and unintelligible from here.
That, and... I need to make it up to Tobio.
It's been just a few weeks since Shouyou's bachelor party and that conversation he and Tobio had on the beach— yes, that very painful conversation about the issue of their relationship being public and the inevitable shitstorm that would result from the media and fans if Tobio were to return to the Adlers next season sporting a claiming mark.
While they'd of course met up since then— doing their usual outings together and helping to plan more aspects of the wedding which creeps closer and closer without mercy— they haven't since returned to the topic of the claiming bite, or lack thereof. Worse, they've not yet discussed the more general issue of long-distance and commitment.
So this dinner is hopefully going to broach the topic a little. Then, Tooru will have the chance to talk to Tobio about the idea he's been nursing with respect to all of this, maybe after, maybe tomorrow? Yes, things will go well; he just needs to make sure that tonight serves as concrete proof to Tobio that Tooru is serious, is committed to making this all work, and then they can have a heart-to-heart about what to do.
What better way to prove that he's dedicated, than by having Tobio over to meet his family and cooking Tobio's favorite food?
Yes. It will go great. It will be perfect.
IF, and ONLY IF, his family will cooperate and let him make the fucking curry.
Tooru exhales a sharp breath, trying to calm down.
Relax, relax. Things will be fine.
Rui's eyes lock onto his tense form, and she breathes out a sigh of resignation. "Okay, you're right. Tooru, let us know how we can help."
"Great." Tooru unwinds, just a little bit; then a little more, slowly. He breathes in, and then out. Repeats.
Things will be fine.
Then he turns toward the adjacent counter and gestures in the direction of the mountain of mushrooms and vegetables propped along the spare cutting board. "Can you wash those? And then cut them for me?"
"Sure, how thick do you want them?"
Tooru demonstrates with the first of each: the carrots are sliced into inch-long strips, half an inch thick; the cabbage, stripped and cut horizontally; and the onions, divided with vertical incisions into thirds.
"And then just cut the bottoms off the mushrooms," he instructs. "Thanks."
Kanna picks up the knife. "Aye, aye, captain."
The two of them get to work while Tooru turns the heat on the wok, coating the bottom of the pan in oil. He's careful to ensure the pan is sufficiently hot— sliding the pan around a little, making sure the oil runs quickly down the metal— before he cuts open the package of thinly-sliced pork and drops it in. There's a muted sizzling noise, some steam rising, and Tooru begins mixing it around well so that the meat is exposed evenly to the fire.
"You've gotten better at cooking," Kanna comments, and he startles, whipping his head around.
She's flashing him an amused look, lips quirked into a little smile. "Been practicing a lot?"
His cheeks flush a little. "... Maybe."
"It's good that you care about how it turns out." Rui slides the cut vegetables into a large bowl, looking at her children with a pleased expression. "That's the most important thing in cooking. That you want to make the person who eats it happy."
Kanna hums in agreement, popping a small slice of carrot into her mouth and crunching on it with a thoughtful look. "You really like this kid, huh?"
"He's not a kid," Tooru corrects, instead of verifying the truth of the statement. His red cheeks are probably confirmation enough. "Stop making it sound so weird."
"It's not weird. He is a kid. You're a kid, too."
"Tooru's not a kid!" Takeru calls from the living room. "Tooru's like, thirty years old!"
"Shut up!" Tooru yells back. He grabs the carrots away from his sister with a pointed glare, dropping the entire bowl in. Then the onions. After everything is mixed well, he adds shoyuu and the garlic. "I am... a grown adult," he decides. "Not a kid. And definitely not an old man."
"Okay, sure," Kanna says placatingly. "It looks like you really like this... fellow grown adult."
"... Yes," Tooru responds with a scowl.
"Cute, so cute!" Rui claps her hands together, the picture of innocent excitement. "Oh, I'm so excited to meet him!"
"Please don't freak him out," Tooru urges.
Now that the meat and vegetables look cooked, he turns the heat down a little and adds the water and coconut cream. Rui hands him the dashi powder before he can ask for it.
"I promise I won't, dear," she insists. "I won't do anything to embarrass you."
He considers this, before glowering. "Don't call him Tobio-chan."
"I wasn't going to!"
Tooru studies his mother's face for any signs of dishonesty. He narrows his eyes a bit, before relenting, and covering the wok.
Kanna makes a considering noise. "You're nervous, Tooru."
"Of course I am." He crosses his arms, feeling his shoulders slump a little with stress and tension. "He doesn't have... much family left. So I want things to go well when he meets you guys."
Kanna's expression softens into something sympathetic and kind. She claps him on the arm encouragingly. "It'll be fine. Don't worry."
"Yes, it'll be great," Rui agrees. "We'll all welcome him and get to know him, and the curry will be wonderful!"
Tooru swallows. "I hope so."
"If it goes bad, can I still ask him for an autograph," Takeru hollers from the couch.
"No!" Tooru objects. "Dammnit, learn to read the room, you brat!"
"Stingy!"
"Manners," Kanna calls back, and thankfully, this gets Takeru to shut up.
The bubbling of the pot on the stove calls Tooru's attention back to the task at-hand. He uncovers it and then stirs in the cut mushrooms, before unwrapping the curry blocks and dropping half the package in. Everything gets stirred up. Tooru's careful not to spill. Slowly, as the curry blocks begin to dissolve, the milky color transitions to a rich brown and the roux thickens.
"Looks good, Tooru," Rui comments, patting his back. "I'll set the table and get everything ready out front?"
"That'd be great. Thanks, mom."
There's a shuffling sound near the door and Tooru startles, only for the door to open to reveal Tetsuya.
"I'm back," he calls, taking a second to slip his shoes off. "Oh, something smells good."
"Welcome back, dear," Rui responds. "It's Tooru's curry!"
"Oh? I thought your mother was handling things."
Tooru waves a hand. "Change of plans."
"He wanted to make his Tobio-chan's favorite curry," Kanna adds impishly, slipping out of the kitchen before Tooru can smack her.
Tetsuya gives his kids an amused look before hanging his keys by the hallway and going off to join Takeru in the living room.
Tooru busies himself with adding honey and sesame oil to the curry, now that the roux is mainly done. Everything gets stirred well a few more times. He tries a spoonful— that's good!— and then, finally, he turns the heat off, satisfied with the dish, and pads toward the sink to rinse his hands.
The doorbell rings.
"Oh crap," he mutters, quickly shutting off the water and wiping his hands on his jeans— earning a chiding exclamation from his mother, which he ignores in favor of rushing to the door. But he's not the only one; there's a blur of white and blue and— Takeru, you little shit!— his nephew slides across the hardwood floors in his socks, strangely aerodynamic, before nudging Tooru out of the way of the foyer.
The twerp flashes Tooru a smug grin before throwing open the door loudly, revealing a startled Tobio who practically jumps out of his skin, impressively managing to hold onto what looks to be an expensive bottle of sake rather than throwing it in the air.
Tooru's stomach twists at the sight of Tobio, who's dressed in a light, long-sleeve tee and wearing a nice pair of jeans, a blue windbreaker draped over his shoulders. His hair is neat, framing his face.
The fact that he's not wearing his usual athletic wear sends a twinge of fondness through Tooru. Tobio's just as nervous as he is.
Those blue eyes dart nervously past Takeru's frame, locking onto Tooru. Gradually, the anxious expression softens into something a bit more relaxed as they make eye contact, and Tooru gently smiles.
"Hey, Kageyama's here!" Takeru shouts at a volume all too loud to be appropriate for any first-time greeting. Then, after a closer look, he exclaims with elated recognition: "Wait! You're that picture guy, too!"
Oh, fuck. Of course Takeru remembers that.
"Uh, yes, I am," Tobio responds. His expression is not unlike a deer caught in the headlights of a semi-truck, eyes flitting between Takeru and Tooru uncertainly, but he looks a bit less stressed than before. "Nice to see you again?"
Takeru's already moved onto announcing Tobio's presence. "Mom! Grandma! It's Kageyama Tobio!"
Tooru heaves a ragged sigh and maneuvers Takeru out of the doorway, flashing an encouraging smile. "Tobio-chan, why don't you come in?"
Those blue eyes widen dovishly. "Um, sure."
The younger obeys after hesitating briefly, stopping to remove his shoes and mumble a quick "ojama shimasu," before following Tooru toward the living room. The swift motion is accompanied by a very brief trace of Tobio's scent, and Tooru swallows down the lump in his throat.
Relax, relax. Things will be fine, he reminds himself.
Rui's the first one to greet them; she's wiping her hands on a dish cloth, though sets it aside quickly to free up her hands. The table's already set.
"Tobio, this is my mom," Tooru introduces, just a teensy bit bashful.
"Hello," Tobio greets. He bows politely to Rui. "Thank you for having me. It's nice to meet you."
"Oh, you're so polite," Rui gushes, flashing Tooru a look that clearly means he's even cuter in person! "Wonderful to meet you too, dear."
Kanna clears her throat, and Tooru rolls his eyes.
"Tobio, this is my sister. Takeru's mom. Kanna."
"Kanna-nee," she corrects, elbowing Tooru in the ribs. When she turns to Tobio, her expression becomes decisively more polite. "Nice to meet you, Kageyama-kun. Takeru says you're his favorite setter."
"I watch your games online," Takeru nods. "Tooru used to too, even though he told me not to tell anyone."
"You're dead to me," whispers Tooru sharply.
It has little effect on his nephew, who seems not to mind one way or another.
"Oh, thank you," Tobio replies stiffly, his cheeks coloring a little. Then, perhaps remembering why his hands are so heavy (or maybe looking for an excuse to hide his face from Tooru's sight), he abruptly holds out the bottle of sake.
"Uh, for all of you."
Takeru whistles, and Kanna shoots him a look which clearly means, in your dreams, before accepting the gift.
"Thanks, Kageyama-kun, that's thoughtful of you. I'll put it on the table."
Rui hums. "Why don't you sit down? Would you like anything to drink, dear?"
Tooru nods. "Milk? Water? Juice?"
"Uh. Water is fine. Thank you."
Tobio's eyes flicker toward the couch, and Tooru realizes his father's risen. Tobio and Tetsuya look at each other awkwardly.
"Oh, sorry— Tobio, this is my father." He introduces the two quickly. "Dad. Tobio."
"Nice to meet you, sir." Tobio coughs a little. Now that he doesn't have the bottle to keep his hands occupied, his fingers are grasping restlessly at the edge of his shirt.
Tetsuya nods, looking equally out of his element; his hands inch into his pockets, and he shifts his weight from side to side. "Yes. Uh. Likewise."
It's like two brick walls trying to have a conversation, Tooru laments.
Thankfully, Rui interrupts to hand a glass of water to Tobio, who seems equally thankful for the distraction.
Tooru intervenes. "Tobio-chan, are you hungry? I just finished making the curry. The rice should be done by now, too."
Tobio blinks. "You made dinner?"
"Mhm. Pork curry. Water's boiling for hot spring eggs, too."
Tobio's lips quirk into a wobbly little smile, his cheeks dusting pink. "Okay. Sounds great."
Tooru feels his stomach do a flip and wills himself to calm down before sliding into the kitchen; the rice cooker's just beeped, and he turns the top layer of rice over before checking on the eggs. The timer's just about done, so he dishes them out and then takes out bowls. Rui joins to help serve the food.
"Why don't you sit by Tooru, Kageyama-kun," suggests Kanna. She gestures to the seat closest to the couch at the dining table.
"Oh, thank you," Tobio replies, hesitantly sitting down.
Tooru finds himself grateful for his sister, who he'd asked on a whim to be here along with Takeru thinking that it might help to alleviate some of the stress of meeting the parents (because that, as opposed to just meeting the family in general, seems a lot more nerve-wracking). His intuition seems to have been right, because Tobio looks marginally more comfortable interacting with Kanna than with Rui and Tetsuya.
The rest of the Oikawa family joins once the bowls of curry rice have been set out at each place mat. Rui distributes small glasses to everyone except Takeru, and opens the bottle of sake before taking her place next to her husband.
Tooru slides into his own seat at Tobio's left and shoots the younger an encouraging smile.
"Itadakimasu," the table recites.
"Ah, this looks good," Rui comments excitedly. She takes the first spoonful, and her eye widen when it passes her lips. "Tooru! This is great!"
He feels his posture straighten a bit from pride. But he carefully watches for the reaction of his seatmate, who takes a bite and chews, considering.
There's a little flash of joy in Tobio's blue eyes.
Tobio takes a second bite.
Then a third.
His mouth lifts into a happy smile, and he concludes: "It's good, Tooru. Really good."
Tooru exhales, a relieved grin lifting at his lips. "Of course! I am a curry-making expert, after all."
"Mhm." Tobio sends him an amused look, chewing contently.
And maybe Tooru, for just a second, forgets where he is and that his entire family is seated at the table watching them; but the look on Tobio's face is so stupidly endearing, so happy and pleased with the dish in front of him that Tooru put so much time and effort into learning how to make the best he could (because it's Tobio's favorite food and he's so damn picky about it)— and it's all a little overwhelming, but in the best way— so that when Tooru notices there's a little smudge of curry on Tobio's chin— without thinking, Tooru reaches over and wipes it away with his thumb.
He licks the residue clean.
"It is good," Tooru agrees proudly, as if he didn't already know how it turned out. "I did a great job, didn't I?"
Tobio stares, his mouth hanging open.
"Uh, you sure did," Kanna snorts.
Oh fuck.
Tetsuya and Rui are gaping at the scene, and Tooru blanches, registering the fact that his entire face is now steaming bright red. Poor Tobio is not faring any better, looking ready to implode while trying desperately to avoid everyone's eyes.
Kanna's doing a poor job of stifling hysterical laughter at the sight, while Takeru looks vaguely disturbed.
No one says anything for what feels like an eternity.
Finally, Takeru breaks the silence, choosing to correctly read the room and for once in his life, help his poor uncle out. "So, uh... You on off-season now?"
"Uh. Yes." Tobio swallows, his voice coming out like a strained croak. At the change of topics, everyone at the table begins to relax a little bit, turning back to their food.
Very slowly, Tobio picks his spoon back up again, scooping up some rice and egg. "The JNT finished practices about a month and a half ago. The Adlers pick up again in September."
"Oh, you play for the Adlers, too," Rui comments, quickly, her tone a bit too manufactured toward something Tooru thinks is meant to be nonchalant. "That's very impressive, Kageyama-kun."
"Thank you."
"What position do you play?"
Tooru startles a bit, looking to his father, who takes a bite of his food. Tetsuya seems none the wiser to Tooru's surprise, eyes trained on Tobio with polite interest.
"I play setter," Tobio answers.
"He's the coolest setter," Takeru adds, grinning when Tooru shoots him a dirty look. "Well, it's true!"
"Maybe in Japan," Tobio qualifies kindly, flashing Tooru a purposeful look. His cheeks redden a little. "Maybe."
"Aw, don't be so shy. I saw you play in the Olympics," Kanna points out with a grin. "I think it was the game against Canada? The first day? You were great."
"Yeah! That quick with the ginger guy! That was awesome!"
"Thanks. They were tough."
Tooru takes a couple bites of his food now that he can be relatively sure Kanna and Takeru will take the conversation toward volleyball (a very safe, easy matter to discuss). Fortunately, the subject stays the same for quite some time, as Takeru asks all sorts of questions about the JNT, about the Adlers, and about playing in the Olympics. Tooru is only slightly offended that Takeru seems so excited considering his uncle literally won a gold medal in volleyball there. But. Whatever.
"I bet it was crazy exciting," Takeru rambles, nodding his head up and down emphatically. Kanna shoots him a warning look, which goes unnoticed. "Were you nervous? Did you cry!?"
Tobio's face shifts into something genuinely puzzled. "No? Why would I?"
"Takeru, Tobio's a two-time Olympian," Tooru reminds his nephew. "I doubt he gets nervous about anything. Isn't that right?"
Tobio grunts, shoving a spoonful of food into his mouth.
"Still. It's the Olympics!"
Rui laughs a little, then turns to address Tobio with an encouraging smile. "Did you always want to be a volleyball player, Kageyama-kun?"
Tobio blinks, chewing.
"I don't think Tobio ever considered doing anything else with his life," Tooru chuckles, stepping in to answer on his boyfriend's behalf. "Isn't that right?"
Tobio sends him a withering look, but grits out his affirmation after swallowing. "... He's right."
"That's cool," Kanna hums. "In our family, the default is going into medicine."
"I see," Tobio says slowly. "That's impressive."
It's quiet for a few beats.
"So, Kageyama-kun," Tetsuya starts, clearing his throat a little, evidently a little uncomfortable with the topic. "What does your family do for a living?"
"Uh, dad," Tooru starts, shooting his father a warning look.
Tetsuya falters. "What?"
"No. It's okay," Tobio cuts in, a bit stiffly. "My sister is a hairdresser. She owns a salon in Sendai."
Everyone at the table waits. Tobio bites down on another large spoonful of his curry.
Tetsuya's expression contorts with confusion — and then realization — as it becomes readily apparent that Tobio has in fact finished answering his question.
"Oh, that's wonderful," Kanna comments abruptly. "You should give me the name of her salon. Maybe I'll stop by the next time I need a haircut? The salon I take Takeru to always ends up cutting my hair shorter than what I asked for."
Tooru feels a rush of gratitude for his sister's skill at picking up social cues. "Yeah, Tobio's sister— Miwa— is really good. She cut my hair for me, actually."
Tobio's mouth quirks up in a little smile. Tooru reaches under the table and takes Tobio's hand, squeezing it gently.
"Oh, so that's how you were introduced to her," Rui deduces pleasantly. "Kageyama-kun, your sister must be very talented! Tooru hasn't looked so sharp in such a long while!"
"Mom," Tooru chides.
"Well, it's true!"
"I can write down the name for you," Tobio offers.
"That'd be great. And your sister must be proud of you." Kanna smiles, taking a sip of her sake. Her brown eyes are fond. "I'm proud of Tooru, too. It's nice getting to brag about my Olympian brother to all my friends."
Tooru rolls his eyes, though he can't fight the grin tugging at his lips. "Stop using me to feed your ego."
"I can't be the only one!" Kanna laughs. "Kageyama-kun, what's your sister like? Does she watch your games?"
"She does when she can," Tobio responds. "She used to play volleyball, too, but she stopped. But she still likes the sport. So she understands why I play."
"Maybe volleyball runs in your family, too," Takeru suggests.
Tobio considers this so earnestly— as if a propensity for volleyball is actually a genetic sequence it is possible to inherit— that Tooru desperately wants to pinch his cute little cheek.
"Maybe? My grandfather taught us how to play."
"Ah, a volleyball lineage! Was your grandpa a pro player?"
"No, he wasn't. But he coached a local team."
"Which one?"
"The Kitagawa Birds." Tobio pauses. "It's a women's team."
"Kitagawa Birds," Tetsuya repeats. His eyebrows are furrowed thoughtfully, with a strange degree of sobriety.
Tobio puts his drink down, studying the man almost hesitantly. "Yes. You've heard of them?"
"Kageyama Kazuyo."
Tobio's expression is stunned. "What?"
Tetsuya seems similarly surprised by his own revelation, eyes wide with recognition and striking clarity. "Kageyama Kazuyo was your grandfather, wasn't he?"
"I—," Tobio gapes. "How did you know?"
"He was a patient of mine, back when I was practicing orthopedic medicine," Tetsuya says quickly, almost breathless with awe. It's the most expressive Tooru's seen his father in the past few weeks. "I knew he coached the team— that's why your name was so familiar..."
Tobio's eyes are wide, his lips opening and closing but no sound escaping; evidently, he's been rendered speechless.
"He eventually stopped coming in, and I only heard later he had stopped coaching volleyball. And then I heard the news that..."
Tooru gathers his bearings; before he can intervene, Kanna speaks up.
"APPI, dad." Kanna's brow is furrowed, and there's a twinge of affronted professionalism in her tone.
At this, Tetsuya snaps out of his stupor, face twisting with disbelief and embarrassment. "I— I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have said anything. You're right, Kanna."
"Uh, no, it's okay," Tobio replies quickly, shaking his head a little. His voice is a little raspy, but clearly honest, as he consoles him. "Don't worry about it." There's a calm in his eyes that Tooru recognizes as evidence that the younger is being truthful.
"I mean... it's pretty crazy," Tobio murmurs. His fingers are pressed against the tabletop, thrumming restlessly. "That you knew him, I mean."
Tetsuya relaxes a little, something softer in his expression. "It is, isn't it?"
The rest of the meal takes on a much smoother course, with conversation directed toward other questions— how did you meet— when did you start seeing each other again— how is the wedding stuff going, I mean, Hinata and Yachi's wedding, of course— and although Tobio's still exhibiting his characteristic awkwardness that Tooru's come to find stupidly adorable, there's no denying the younger is making an honest, steadfast effort into engaging with the Oikawa family.
Tooru swallows down the fluttering thing in his throat that threatens to make too obvious how moved he is by it.
"Oh, this sake's delicious. Thank you for sharing it with us," Rui says graciously, savoring the rest of her glass. "I hope it wasn't too expensive."
"Anytime," Tobio replies bashfully. "I'm glad you liked it."
"Should I bring out the dessert?" Kanna asks.
"That'd be wonderful, dear. Shall I help?"
"I've got it," Kanna replies and stands, heading off to the kitchen.
Tooru calls after her, "Thanks!", to which she waves a hand dismissively.
"So, Kageyama-kun. You're the best man for the wedding? How do you know the groom?"
Tobio looks to Rui, a thoughtful look on his face. "We were on the volleyball team together. In high school."
"Ah, I see. That means you know the bride as well?"
"Yes," Tobio nods. "She's also a good friend."
"Oh, how sweet."
Kanna returns with slices of tiramisu, which she hands out to everyone along with dessert forks. She takes her seat again.
"Thank you," Tobio says after the first bite. His eyes are wide with appreciation. "It's delicious."
"It's from our favorite bakery," Rui explains. "It's a little shop right near Aoba Johsai Academy. Tetsuya picked it up this evening."
"We can go sometime, Tobio-chan," Tooru promises.
There's a little glint in Tobio's eyes of excitement at this prospect, but it quickly flashes into something else, something a little dejected.
"Maybe," Tobio says. "If there's time."
Tooru swallows down a mouthful of tiramisu. He tries to— tries to pretend that the bittersweet taste is from the cake alone.
Once the dessert plates are cleaned, they sit at the table with some hot tea and rest. Takeru asks Tobio more questions about the Adlers, about playing with Nicolas Romero, all sorts of things; Tooru lets his family fawn over his boyfriend and tries to nurse his drink, hoping the warm caffeine will help to settle the twisting feeling making itself known at the bottom of his stomach.
Around nine PM, the conversation begins to slow down a little; the drinks are about finished, and Tobio glances at the door.
"Um, I should get going," he murmurs. "I don't want to impose and— I have some things to do tomorrow."
Rui sits up. "Oh, no problem, dear. You're not a bother, but if you need to head out, why don't I pack some leftovers for you?"
Tooru knows his mother very, very well; and it's clear that she's not really asking, but rather telling Tobio he's going to be taking home food. She's already standing up and heading to the kitchen to package some curry and rice.
Tobio stands and helps Tooru and Kanna clear some plates until they shoo him away.
"Guests don't clean," Tooru scolds.
Tobio sends him a grumpy look over his shoulder.
Fortunately it doesn't take too long to get things in order, and Tooru's holding a bag full of food as Tobio gets his jacket on and says goodbye to Takeru and Kanna and then Rui. Tooru's mother is saying something like oh dear, you're always welcome here, if you ever want to stop by for a home cooked meal and look at Tooru's elementary school pictures then feel free— and Tooru's yanking Tobio away before his mother can do any more damage.
Tobio gives him an impish grin. "Afraid of what I might see?"
"Oh, please. I was adorable!"
"Mhm." Tobio slips his arms through the sleeves of his jacket and begins toeing on his shoes. "Sure you were."
Tooru tsks and begins lacing up his shoes, too. "Don't get too cocky, Tobio-chan. I can always ask your sister for your pictures."
"She wouldn't give them to you," Tobio retorts confidently.
And Tooru agrees; Miwa probably wouldn't. But...
"Well, how about I ask Shouyou for pictures of the second-year incident then? Hm? I bet he'd share them with me."
Tobio's head snaps up from the ground almost with comical emphasis. "You wouldn't dare."
"I wasn't gonna, but now I just might!"
And it really was a bluff on his part, but Tobio's horror seems to confirm that— whatever this second-year incident was— somewhere, there is photographic evidence of it. Yes. Tooru will be looking into this very soon...
Tooru waits for Tobio to finish tying his shoelaces, grabbing his own jacket from the coat hanger. He's content to watch Tobio with his mundane little task, smirking a bit at how the younger's ears have gone bright red, and his round little head is so— well, so round— that he doesn't realize a third person has entered the foyer until a voice is snapping him out of his stupor.
"Uhm, Kageyama-kun."
Tooru and Tobio pause, both of them turning to the doorway into the living room, where Tetsuya lingers nervously.
Tooru's never seen his father like this; so out of his element and uncertain.
It is, quite frankly, jarring.
"Oh, Oikawa-san," Tobio greets, finishing tying his shoes. He quickly stands and bows a little. "Thank you for having me."
"Yes, of course." Tetsuya swallows, rubbing at his arm. "I... I also wanted to thank you. For taking care of my son."
Tooru's aware his eyes are bulging out of his head, but neither Tobio nor his father seem privy to this fact.
"Tooru seems quite happy," Tetsuya continues. His voice is quiet. "And I'm glad for this. And grateful to you."
"O-Oh," Tobio breathes out, eyes as wide as saucers. "Of course."
Tetsuya is quiet.
"Kazuyo was a good man," he concludes. "It was an honor to know him, and... I'm very sorry for your loss."
Tooru silently inhales, replenishing his lungs after finding the wind completely knocked out of him by his father's admission.
Tobio's eyes are misty. When he speaks, his voice is raspy with emotion; but the hurt of it, Tooru thinks, is softened by the genuine smile stretching its way across Tobio's mouth.
"Thank you, Oikawa-san."
"Um, thanks for taking me back," Tobio says. His eyes flicker a bit around the living room before finally coming to rest on Tooru's face. "And thank you. For cooking. And for introducing me to your family."
The way that Tobio's voice falters a bit on the last word of that sentence is not lost on Tooru.
He smiles gently, reaching over to gently hold Tobio's hand. The younger's eyes fall down to the floor for a few moments, before nervously peering up again. They make immediate eye contact, and there's hesitance, but more than that— Tooru recognizes — there is understanding.
"I really wanted you to meet them," Tooru replies tenderly. He presses his mouth softly to Tobio's fingers. "Was it okay?"
Tobio nods, his lips pressed together in a wobbly expression of intense emotion; Tooru's not sure if it's pain or happiness. Whatever it is, Tobio's clearly overwhelmed by it.
"It was good," Tobio chokes out after a long pause. His voice is quaking, and his shoulders follow suit. Small, tense tremors that make themselves known in the stunted quality of his speech. "They're so nice, Tooru."
"They are," Tooru agrees.
"And... It was... It was nice." Tobio breathes out sharply. "Being with a family again. I forgot."
Tobio acquiesces very quickly to Tooru's embrace, leaning his head against the older's chest.
"They liked you a lot," Tooru whispers encouragingly. He runs his fingers through Tobio's silky hair with one hand, the other rubbing comforting circles on his back. When Tobio makes a sad noise, something unintelligible but incredibly pained; Tooru adds with a light little laugh: "Especially Takeru. He likes you more than he likes me."
"Well," Tobio chokes out. "That's not saying much."
"You brat," Tooru laughs, and he's smiling and Tobio's looking up at him with a sad little smile. He kisses Tobio's forehead.
They take off their jackets and put the food away before making their way back to the couch, like they always do. But Tooru doesn't put the TV on. Tobio gives him a curious look.
"Tobio, I wanted to talk to you about... about what we're going to do, going forward."
Tobio's eyes widen, still watery with unshed tears. There's something deeply hesitant, slightly pained in his expression; but he nods, swallowing, and then shifts into a more comfortable position on the couch. "Okay," he breathes out.
Tooru takes his hands gently in his own. "Tobio, I'm serious about you."
"Me, too," the younger responds shakily.
"That's why I— I don't want to mark you. I can't."
Tobio makes a pained noise, but his expression softens. "Yeah, I... I thought about it more."
Tooru looks at their intertwined fingers.
"And I get it," Tobio says. "I know what you mean. It's still frustrating, though."
"It is," Tooru agrees.
"Because I— I never get to choose which parts of this apply." Tobio grits out a frustrated sound through his clenched teeth, redness streaking over his face. "In every fucking thing that happens, because of... Because of all of this," he says haplessly, a sardonic laugh tearing itself from his downturned lips. "I never want it, but it always happens anyway. With the tabloid. Or the... the other things."
Tobio quivers. "But the one time I want something, the one time I want to make my own choice on all of this... I can't."
"I'm sorry." Tooru exhales the breath that's been clenched in his lungs, feels it snake hotly out of his mouth like poison. "I'm so sorry."
"It's not fair," Tobio whispers. "None of it ever is."
"No, it's not."
Tobio looks up at him through wet eyelashes. "Would you still... Would you still want me? Even if you can't..."
"Tobio," Tooru gasps, and there's horrified hurt that flashes through, a pained tone that makes Tobio wince. Tooru squeezes the younger's hands, presses forward to gently lean their foreheads together. "Of course I would. I— the mark isn't the important thing here. I promise. The important thing is you."
"Even if I'm here." Tobio looks at him. "And you're not?"
"No matter where we end up," Tooru promises. "It'll only be you for me. Just you."
It is very quiet. This house is stifling in its silence.
"Will you stay tonight," Tobio asks. "Just— just to be here?"
"Whatever you need."
They sit for hours, probably longer than it is wise because around midnight Tobio's already dozing off and Tooru has to drag him up the stairs, half-carrying the younger like a sack of potatoes to his bedroom. When he deposits Tobio onto the mattress the younger makes a petulant noise and tries to hold on but— Tooru shushes him, presses another kiss to his forehead and steels his willpower, slipping away to the guest room.
He lies awake for longer than he should.
Tooru rises far too early. His head hurts and he wants nothing more than to go back to sleep, but as soon as he opens his eyes, he knows he can't.
He sits up but does not stand for around half an hour, cradling his head. By the time he works up the nerve to wash up and check his phone, the clock tells him it's only a quarter past six. He ventures out into the hall, considering having a cup of coffee— the machine isn't too loud, so as long as Tobio's door is shut, it shouldn't cause a disturbance.
But... Tobio's light is on.
"Tobio?"
He peers around the corner of the doorway.
Tobio's sitting on the edge of the bed, pulling his socks on— and Tooru blinks, because the younger's already dressed in athletic clothes.
"Tooru?" Tobio appears similarly startled. He pulls his legs up and sits, cross-legged. "Why are you up so early?"
"Couldn't sleep. Are you going for a run?"
"Yeah. I usually go around this time. Since it's quiet." Tobio pauses. "Do you wanna go with me?"
"I want to, but—," Tooru winces, the throbbing of his head making itself known. "Woke up with a headache. It's pretty bad."
Tobio frowns. "I have medicine. Why don't you go back to bed and rest?"
"That— That sounds like a good idea."
Tooru slowly turns back out the doorway, only to jolt back when Tobio's hand stretches out and grabs his wrist.
"You can— uh, you can rest here." While Tobio's face is not visible, the familiar stammering is evidence enough that the younger's probably a little red. Tobio adds quickly: "I'll bring you medicine and some food, so, you can just lie down here. It's fine. I won't..."
Tooru's hesitation spurs Tobio on further.
"I'll go running after. So you can just rest and... It'll be fine."
Slowly, Tooru relaxes. "I..."
He swallows, and lets Tobio tug him back a little bit.
"Okay," Tooru acquiesces. "Thank you."
Tooru allows Tobio to gently maneuver him under the covers, pulling up the thick comforter over his chest. He catches a glimpse of Tobio's face— flushed slightly pink, just as he expected— and tugs the blankets over his mouth to hide the upward tilt of his own lips. Tobio sends him an appraising look, just a short, quick once-over— before turning the light off and padding out the door and down the hall. Tooru can hear the younger's soft footsteps. He listens until they diminish before closing his eyes.
The bed, this room, the blankets and sheets— it smells overwhelmingly of Tobio.
He lies there, toeing the line between hazy awareness and restless sleep for who knows how long; until the sound of Tobio's footsteps returns, getting closer and closer to the door. Tobio doesn't flick the lights back on, which Tooru is thankful for. He rises up a little as the younger sets a tray of dishes on the nightstand.
"What's this?"
Tobio uncaps the bottle of Acetaminophen and puts two capsules in Tooru's palm, then hands him a glass of water. Only once Tooru's taken the pills does Tobio respond.
"I made soup."
"... Soup?"
Tobio nods and moves the tray to Tooru's lap.
It's— a bowl of miso soup with tofu and seaweed, an egg whisked and cooked in it. There's a small dish of white rice, too. Instead of coffee to go along with it, there's a small mug of hot milk.
"Tobio, you could have just warmed up the leftovers!"
Tobio turns his wide-eyed blue gaze onto Tooru, his mouth quirking a little with amusement. "You'd really want to eat curry rice? For breakfast?"
"Well," Tooru huffs halfheartedly, because... no. Not really.
He picks up the spoon, says a quick, "Itadakimasu," and takes the first bite of rice, soaked in broth.
"It's good."
And along with the savory, salty-sweet taste of miso paste, Tooru gets to enjoy the pleased expression that lights up on Tobio's face at the praise. "Thank you."
"Sure. Miwa-nee used to make it for me when I didn't feel well."
Tooru hums through another spoonful of breakfast. "She's a good sister."
"The best." Tobio tilts his head. "Well— Kanna-san seems nice, too."
Tooru laughs a little. "Sometimes. When she's not terrorizing me."
"I'm sure you deserve it."
"Whose side are you on, here?"
"Eat your soup," Tobio snorts.
Tooru, for once in his life, obeys. And it's not a difficult request to fulfill, given the food is quite good, and the hot soup along with the mild and soothing warmth of the milk does their job in coaxing drowsiness out of him. The headache by this point has subsided just a little bit.
"You gonna go running now?"
Tobio looks back at him, clearing the nightstand of the dishes. "I think so. Will you be okay to sleep?"
"Yeah. I think it's just— maybe fatigue."
"You were stressing over last night's dinner," Tobio guesses. When Tooru pulls the blankets over himself, Tobio seems assured his hypothesis is correct. "But it went well. You... did a good job."
"I did, didn't I?" Tooru hums. "After all, I ended up in your bed."
Tobio rolls his eyes, but his reddening ears tell Tooru all he needs to know.
"Shut up and take a nap," Tobio scoffs. He pulls his windbreaker on before picking up the tray again, heading off toward the door.
"When will you be back?"
Tobio pauses. "Shouldn't be more than an hour."
"Okay." Tooru fidgets a little, getting comfortable again. "Wake me up when you get home."
They both still a little bit— and even though Tooru's the one who said it he can't quell the way his breath hitches in the back of his throat because— because when did this place go from being Tobio's old house, to— to their home?
"I will," Tobio says at last. And he looks back and his blue eyes are saturated with something that pierces cleanly through the dim lighting of the bedroom, making Tooru's stomach twist.
Tobio comes back an hour and a half later.
Tooru is already awake.
And Tobio's a little cold, but he climbs into bed and— Tooru doesn't hesitate to wrap his arms around the younger, chilled skin and all. They just lie there until Tobio finally gets warmed up and Tooru's no longer burning like a furnace.
Equilibrium, Tooru recalls, something like deja vu gnawing at him in the back of his mind.
Like— thermodynamic equilibrium.
"Tooru." Tobio shifts a little, so that he can look up, and they make eye contact: brown on blue. "I want to introduce you to someone. Someone important."
Tooru blinks.
"You met Miwa, but not..." Tobio swallows, a little movement packed with anxiety. "But not Kazuyo-san."
A little breath of realization escapes him.
"You'll take me to see him?"
Tobio nods.
"Okay." Tooru tightens his hold. "I'd like to."
Tooru takes a long time to figure out what to wear. He showers, makes sure to fix his hair neatly, and stares in the mirror for a long while wondering if— wondering if this is really okay. Eventually he settles on a dress shirt he'd brought as an alternative for the wedding and some black slacks. He'll surely suffer for it when it gets hotter this afternoon, but it's the best choice for the occasion.
Tobio doesn't tease him too much about taking so long, maybe because he has an inkling of Tooru's stress.
They take the car to Miyagi Cemetery.
It's a long walk from the parking lot all the way up to the third plot where Tobio says Kazuyo-san resides.
They hold hands; with their free arms they carry the offerings. Tooru holds onto the sunflowers, careful not to squish the long green leaves, and Tobio holds the cake. The younger tells him a little about— about the picture on the coffee table, the subject of which was the ceremony for Tobio and Miwa's most beloved person.
"We didn't know if Kazuyo-san wanted to be buried or cremated," Tobio says. His voice is a very manufactured kind of neutral, something careful and blank, a quality Tooru knows quite well. "Kazuyo-san didn't specify it in his will. So... We just did what made sense at the time."
"Do you regret it," Tooru asks.
Tobio's lips press together in a firm line. "I don't think so. If we didn't— if we cremated him instead— I'm not sure what we would have done after."
"Where to scatter him, you mean?"
"Yeah." Tobio looks at their hands, his eyes downcast. "It's hard when there are so many places that have meaning. How do you choose?"
Tooru breathes out.
The air is warmer now. It's slowly getting hotter and hotter, day by day.
May is ending and in just two days, it will be June. On the sixth of the first month of summer is the wedding. Two days later, Tooru will be back in San Juan.
Tooru squeezes Tobio's hand in lieu of saying anything, because he cannot vocalize his agreement in a way that won't hurt them both.
"If we didn't, and we just had an urn. I don't know where we would have kept it," Tobio continues quietly. "If Miwa would have kept it in Sendai, or if maybe I'd take it to Tokyo."
Tooru thinks about the two possibilities. "He would have been happy with either one of you."
"I think so. Just as long as— as long as he wasn't alone in that old house."
They reach the third plot of the cemetery shortly after, and it's hot enough that their hands are a little sweaty, that Tooru feels the collar of his dress shirt bind at his throat a bit too tightly. He ignores the constraining sensation of his formal clothes and follows respectfully behind Tobio as they make their way to the seventh row of headstones.
Tobio stops at column four.
Kageyama Kazuyo
The headstone where Tobio's beloved person rests sits tall and strong, silvery marble kept pristine by attentive hands. There is an old, framed photo of a man who— who looks startlingly young, only in his fifties or sixties based on his features. Tooru's stomach twists.
The subject is beaming, all teeth and blinding optimism, with white hair and dark eyebrows and sun-leathered skin— making the perfect contrast to Tobio's dark-clad persona, inky hair and stoic features. Yet even as visual foils, the relation between Tobio and his grandfather is obvious in so many ways.
They have the same nose. This is the first thing Tooru notices: it's the same, elegant, upward-sloping bridge that transitions into the same charming button shape. Then there's the little pronounced pout of their upper lips, even when they smile.
And, of course, the biggest similarity is their eyes: dark blue, yet gleaming like freshwater springs where the light hits the iris.
"Grandpa," Tobio says. "I'm back."
Tobio bows, deep and low— and he's whispering something very quiet, that prompts Tooru to take a step back because— whatever it is, it is not intended for his ears.
He stands there, several headstones away; and he waits, and doing so is probably ten thousand times harder than it was when he met Kageyama Miwa for the first time. He feels his throat constricting, his stomach twisting with— with anxiety, maybe fear— because Miwa can voice her disdain or disapproval quite clearly and Tooru can do something about it; with Tobio's beloved grandfather he is at a loss for first impressions and second chances.
"I brought someone important with me to see you."
Tooru steps forward slowly. His shoes squish down the dewy blades of grass.
He bows deeply before the very clean slate-grey headstone bearing Kageyama Kazuyo's name.
Someone better... It's always been you.
Tooru breathes in, then out.
Very carefully he kneels at Kazuyo-san's grave. Deference where it's due.
He bows his head and he hears Tobio step back to give him privacy.
He introduces himself— my name is Oikawa Tooru, from Miyagi Prefecture, twenty-seven years old— and he is honest in the way Tobio inspires him to be— I am in love with your grandson, even though I wasn't always; even though for the longest time I was very, very cruel.
I know you are very important to Tobio, Kageyama-san.
I know that you taught him his love and passion for what he does.
I want to honor that.
I will not take it away from him.
My father says— he says you were a very good man.
Please leave your grandson in my care.
He kneels there for a long while, even after he has run out of promises to explain and requests to wish for, wish for very deeply.
Tobio approaches after a while; begins washing down the headstone with a little scrub brush and some soapy water. Tooru holds onto the offerings while he does; marvels at the way Tobio takes such good care of the space, is so neat and attentive to it— just like he is with his nails, his health, his cooking, his living space. Everything reflects this same earnest care.
Once the topmost platform of the stone is dried, they lay out the cake. Tooru fills a vase with fresh water and they gently place the sunflowers inside, angling them so that they have an easy time following the trajectory of the sun from East to West.
Tooru holds Tobio's hand. The latter is quite still; his hands are still damp with soapy water.
"Now I've met all your family, and you've met all of mine." Tobio's voice is soft and gentle. There is an undertone of— of sadness— but it is reminiscent of the stage of grief that comes after the pain and anger and denial; there is acceptance gleaming in his eyes, something now hopeful.
"Yeah," Tooru agrees, and his voice cracks a little. "I just— I wonder if he would have approved. If he would have..." His throat constricts. "If he would have liked me."
Tobio's eyes take on a knowing gleam. "He would have."
"You sound confident." Tooru smiles, something watery. "But I was a brat back then."
"You still are," Tobio scoffs.
Tooru tsks, but it's a weak farce.
Tobio smiles, tilting his head a little. "I mean it, though. He would have liked you. In fact... I think he did."
Tooru stills.
"... Did?"
Tobio nods, his eyes shifting to the headstone once more. Hazy nostalgia clouds his eyes as he takes a deep breath in, letting it out as he explains: "I told Kazuyo-san about you. A long time ago."
"What did you...?"
Oikawa-san, please teach me how to...
Tooru winces, but Tobio squeezes his hand firmly, pulling him away from these thoughts.
"I told him there was a really good player at Kitaichi who had a really good jump serve," Tobio explains. His fingers intertwine with Tooru's. "And I told him the truth— that you wouldn't teach me."
Tooru squeezes his eyes shut tightly, feeling the first bouts of nausea rising up.
Oikawa-san, please teach me how to serve. Please teach me...
"And you know what he said?"
Tooru breathes a ragged gasp for air, and though his lips fumble at some approximation of a response, nothing substantive comes out. When Tooru's eyes flutter open, he's met with Tobio's steady blue gaze, unwavering in its confrontation of the past.
"What did he say," Tooru manages at last. He's shaking in Tobio's hold, but the younger remains unwavering.
"He told me that it was natural you wouldn't. Because we were rivals."
Something clenches deep and sharp in Tooru's chest.
"He probably knew before I did. How I felt." Tobio's mouth quirks into a little smile. "And I think... it was nice. Because it meant you saw potential in me. Right?"
"I'm not the only one," Tooru chokes out. "Everyone knew you were going to grow up to become a monster."
"I don't think so." Tobio shakes his head, making a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat. "After that last game for Kitaichi... I think most people changed their minds."
Tooru's breath hitches.
"But you never did. That's why you helped me. Right?"
Tooru smiles and a broken laugh escapes him, and there are tears streaming down his face but; he thinks they're probably happy tears. He presses his hand over the top of the younger's head, as Tobio leans comfortably against his right shoulder. Tooru cards his fingers through silky dark locks.
"Thank you for coming," Tobio says softly. "He finally got to meet you."
"I..." Tooru hiccups. The words won't come out.
Tobio rubs his back gently. "And he would probably thank you."
"Thank me?" Tooru croaks with disbelief.
Tobio nods resolutely. "For proving him right. About there being someone better."
And Tooru's still crying fat teardrops that run down his chin and onto his stuffy dress shirt, wetting his collar. He feels a little like a child again; and it's almost silly, how he's the one shedding tears at this headstone that belongs to Tobio's grandfather, that cements a physical monument to Tobio's grief— not Tooru's.
But something about the man standing next to him, staring with those guileless blue eyes, has a way of making Tooru feel small again, in a way that's equally painful as it is a blessing. And somewhere through the daze of the summer heat and humidity, the salty sting of his grief, he thinks he catches a glimpse of that fourteen year-old boy, now unshackled by the barred confines of that prison of gold.
"Tooru," whispers Tobio. The look in his eyes tells Tooru that— Tobio sees that fourteen-year-old, too. "Let's go home?"
Home.
"I'd like that," Tooru murmurs.
Tobio takes his hand again.
They say one more goodbye to Kazuyo-san — whose smile extends all the way to his kind eyes, whose gentle comfort somehow transcends both time and space — before beginning the trek back down from where they came, together.