Chapter Text
A ruddy yellow no.2 pencil rests between Kuroo’s chapped lips. Kuroo’s fingers mindlessly pluck at a couple sets of chords on his acoustic guitar, a Fender CF104. He starts strumming at a little melody before the inspiration runs dry and he leans back into his chair, groaning.
“God damn, I can’t think of a decent riff for this song.” he whines, leaning up against the table to his side with the sheet music inked up with random chunks of notes. Kuroo pushes his hand up into his messy hair as he stares at his work so far. He’s got a lot of bits and pieces but nothing seems to be stringing it together.
Kuroo sighs. He’s got writer’s block. Of the musical variety, of course, but that doesn’t make him any less tapped out.
Ah well. No sense beating a dead cat.
Kuroo gets up from his chair and stretches, one hand reaching down to scratch at the sliver of skin on his navel that shows itself when his black tank top rides up. He shoves his feet in a pair of Bokuto’s childish owl slippers and walks around the hotel suite.
It’s a rather swanky place now that Kuroo’s looking around the place with sober eyes. Iwaizumi must have finally cracked under Oikawa’s complaining to get them a better place. There’s a nice kitchenette with checkered black and white floor tiles. The appliances are all shiny stainless steel and there’s a nice arrangement of fruit on a glass platter waiting on the counter. Kuroo helps himself to an apple.
The rest of the place is equally as nice. Plush carpets and hardwood floor cover the ground in different areas of the suite. Each bed had been stacked with a ludicrous amount of pillows (at least before Lev and Bokuto had taken a majority of them to make a crappy pillow fort in a corner of the living room) and long vertical windows throughout the area gave the entire space a very modern atmosphere.
Kuroo sets to making himself a cup of coffee using the fancy Keurig the Shiratorizawa Hotel had provided them. He watches a steady stream of black heavenly goodness flow into his mug as he scratches the side of his butt through his black and red plaid pajama bottoms.
“Where the fuck is everyone else?” Kuroo asks to no one in particular. He’d woken up halfway off his bed about an hour ago with the dull throb of a headache pressing against his skull. It was to be expected given the amount of booze he’d drank the night before. He and the guys had all gone bar hopping after a night show.
To be fair, things had gotten a little rowdy by the time Bokuto decided to perch himself on the bar and hoot like an owl as Lev went around, sloppily hitting on girls by asking them “If they wanted to be his Mother Russia for the night”. Thus it was no surprise when Iwaizumi had finally tracked the five of them down and dragged their sorry asses back to the hotel where everyone promptly passed the fuck out.
Kuroo’s eyes finally landed on a yellow sticky note slapped on the fridge. He squints.
Gone to Denny’s
It read in a clean script that was clearly Tsukishima’s. Below that was someone else’s large handwriting.
THEY HAVE A FUCKIN BALL PIT
God dammit, Lev.
---
“You’re just fuckin salty we didn’t wake you up to go to Denny’s with us.”
“Lev, shut up. I don’t give a damn about a ball pit.” Kuroo pauses for a beat. “How did you even know they had ball pit.”
“Tsukishima reblogged it on Tumblr,” Kuroo gives Tsukishima a look but the blond simply shrugged.
“O-kayyy. Well we need to figure out a set list for the show later this week.” Kuroo props his feet up on the mahogany coffee table.
Bokuto was idly drumming out a beat on his red drum set. Oikawa chucks a throw pillow him.
“The fuck, man?!” Bokuto cried out, shielding his cymbals from impact.
“Pay attention, stupid! I don’t want this meeting to drag out any longer than it has to. I’m missing my stories!” Lev snickered at the chestnut-haired man.
“You mean your girly soaps?”
“Don’t even with me right now. I’m still hung over from last night.”
“I think that’s something we can ALL agree with.” Tsukishima drawled, checking his Twitter feed on his phone.
“Okay so where are we even playin?” Bokuto asked, using one of his drumsticks to scratch his head without messing up the gelled hair.
“You five will be playing in an underground show on the west side of Tokyo.” Iwaizumi answers, coming into the room with his own mug of coffee. He tosses a map of Tokyo with an area circled in red down on the table. The boys all lean in to see.
Kuroo grins.
“Fuckin’ A. Let’s rock n rock.”
---
Kuroo Tetsurou, otherwise known as the dangerous badboy frontman of the wildly popular, Trash Kings, had officially began his career in music as a second-year in Nekoma. Music had always been a passion of his and in the past the rooster-haired teen could often be found jamming out on his guitar at the local music bars and cafe joints. But that was all small-time shit.
It wasn’t until he had met his best friend and partner in crime, Bokuto Koutarou back when he was first year, that Kuroo really realized how far he could take this music thing. Bokuto was sick on drums and helped Kuroo come up with beats to his music. The two complemented each other well, Bokuto with his enthusiasm and energy acting as a catalyst to Kuroo’s latent talent and ability.
Soon after Bokuto, the duo snagged a moody blond named Tsukishima Kei who had the ability to write the most rad, heavy, catchy lyrics despite coming off as having the personality of a grade A asshole. He also provided the two with the backing of a keyboard’s melody. It took a lot of nagging and pestering from the lazy cat and hyperactive owl to get Tsukishima to commit to the musical thing. After all, it wasn’t actually a legit thing just yet. Though Kuroo was determined to make it a reality.
Along came Lev Haiba, a strange Russian kid who Kuroo had taken a liking to from school. Lev liked to act like a dipshit, and he was a dipshit to be honest. But the Russian played a mad bass guitar and Kuroo would have been a fool not to recruit the guy.
Finally the last member of the Trash Kings came in the form of a boy named Oikawa Tooru. Oikawa was vain, self-absorbed and arrogant. And to be totally honest, Kuroo and Bokuto had hated the dude at first. They had run into the guy at a sporting event and the kid was just a downright dick to be around.
Oikawa’s best friend was Iwaizumi Hajime though, and it was clear that Iwaizumi was going places. His father was a successful businessman and he had been training his son to follow in his footsteps. But Iwaizumi had his own plans to attain success. He saw the potential within Kuroo and his friends. With the right guidance and commitment that group could become something big.
So Iwaizumi asked to become Kuroo and his friends’ manager. He would take a risk on the gang and invest his time and energy (and father’s influence) to get those guys where they wanted to be.
But they had to let Oikawa into the band as well.
OIkawa had chewed Iwaizumi’s ear off when the latter had told his friend about his plans to take the boys to the top. It wasn’t that Tooru thought his friend couldn’t do it. (Iwa-chan could do anything if he set his mind on it really)
He just didn’t want to be left behind by his only real friend.
He demanded that his inclusion be a part of Iwaizumi’s deal and ultimately he got his wish. Kuroo bit the bullet and agreed. Oikawa took Kuroo’s part as main guitar while Kuroo moved up to back up guitar and lead vocalist. The Trash Kings were officially a five man band.
Things hadn’t been easy at first. After finishing high school the five boys ditched the idea of getting an undergraduate education for a life of being underground musicians, paying their dues in the industry. There was little to no initial success but Kuroo and Bokuto refused to let anything get them down, keeping the others motivated to play yet another free underground show at some place no one had ever heard of.
Slowly but surely though, they gained a following. The Trash Kings’ music appealed to the adolescent and young adult age groups. Their beats were catchy, their lyrics were surprisingly witty and clever, and it definitely didn’t hurt that all five guys were actually damn good looking. (Oikawa especially lavished the attention his looks got him from girls and sometimes even guys...much to Iwaizumi’s displeasure)
Their MySpace page (as MySpace had now morphed into a hub for music rather than teenage twinks) gained thousands of followers and from there their fans took the reins, bolstering the rock band through anonymity and onto center stage. Eventually the boys began to take a serious profit from their shows and their first EP, Dumpster, actually made it onto Rolling Stones’ list of Top 10 Up-and-Coming Artists. Right alongside Iggy Azalea and Lana Del Rey. (Tsukishima’s glasses had cracked when he heard their album ranked beside his Queen)
So a studio album and a few singles and a tour through the western hemisphere later, the Trash Kings were back home in Japan to play a few shows to show appreciation to the fanbase that had supported them through it all.
Kuroo thought it was fate that three years later he’d wind up playing a show so close to his old high school. Maybe he would meet with some mystery beauty and fall head over heels. Oh he could definitely write some killer love songs for their next album.
“If you’re thinking of some kind of sappy shit, stop.” Oikawa said as he tried to decide what filter to use for his selfie. He couldn’t decide between Valencia and XX-Pro. He wanted to look tan.
Kuroo lazily flipped his friend the bird.
Whatever man, Kuroo believed in that sappy shit and it’d gotten him this far. Besides. Something in his gut told him that this show would be different from the rest.
---
“Kenma you HAVE to go.”
“Shouyou, I really don-”
“Isn’t one of them from your high school too?? Oh my god does that make Nekoma some holy ground?”
“I really don’t think that’s how it works. Plus, Tsukishima went to Karasuno too.” Kenma offered, nesting his phone in the crook of his neck while he tuned the strings of his violin. It was one of his favorite violins, a Cremona SV-1220 his instructor had given him a few months ago.
Kenma heard Hinata hmm’ing in thought over the phone.
“But still, you need to go!” he insisted. Kenma sighed.
“I don’t even listen to their music though…” Which was true. Maybe it was just him, but Kenma preferred the work of Tschaikovsky or Wagner to the modern pop-rock bullshit that seemed to clutter the radio waves nowadays.
“What?? It’s really good though! This will be a great experience for you then, you’ll totally become obsessed with Trash Kings just like everyone else!” Kenma frowned. Hinata said that like it was a good thing.
“Thanks but I’ll pass..” Kenma could almost hear the pout Hinata had on his face when he said that.
“Kenma I already bought your ticket!” Kenma understood that his best friend had the best intentions but really he didn’t need him inf-
Wait.
What??
“You didn’t.” Again, Hinata’s cheeky smile was almost audible.
“I did! So you have to come, Kenma!”
Kenma sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“When is it?”
“Hehe! It’s later this week, the venue’s really close to Nekoma actually!”
Kenma let out another sigh as he put his best friend on speaker so he could access his phone’s calendar and edit his calendar for the week.
Looks like getting perfect town status in Animal Crossing had to wait. Kenma just hoped no other unexpected things would occur.