Archive of Our Own

“Friendship is no doubt the highest form of love ... and also very difficult.”

Tanaka has a couple minutes to himself before he hears footsteps at the base of the hill. It’s Nishinoya’s gait: a stride that wears out shoes faster than most, as precipitous as a train and just as uncompromising. Tanaka doesn’t spare him a glance as Nishinoya settles onto the grass beside him, letting his head fall among the blades.

"I thought I’d find you here." Nishinoya’s voice is still rough from earlier. "Chikara wants your help wrangling the first years. Apparently Hattori and Nakamura are still distraught about the match, and placing blame..." The words turn stale in the air. Neither of them get up.

Karasuno’s participation at Nationals ends in a deuce against Inarizaki. Tanaka passes the rest of the afternoon in a detached, viscous trance: greeting old friends, comforting his team; before he returns at last to the hotel, nauseous at the thought of dinner and otherwise numb. 

"So this is it, I guess," Tanaka says. Both their eyes are red and puffed-up. "It feels strange." Nishinoya’s eyes sharpen on him. 

"What do you mean?"

"It’s just—" Tanaka looks up at the stars, letting them remain unfocused in his vision. "I thought there would be more." 

The sun begins to set, darkening first the hotel and then encroaching upon on the hill on which they’re resting, a last bastion of light. Tanaka is gripped by a sudden panic as he turns to Nishinoya, watching the golden hues on his face melt into a deep purple. 

The moment passes through a curtain, lost to them. Nishinoya jumps onto his feet, and Tanaka wonders, for a moment, whether either of them understands what is happening. 

"Come on, vice-captain duties await," Nishinoya says, pulling Tanaka onto his feet. Despite their absence, the team’s banter is audible from the street: Hinata and Kageyama engaged in argument, about some minor dispute no one can figure out; Tsukishima muttering insults under his breath, which had only become more creative since last year; Chikara and Yamaguchi conversing in hushed whispers; and Kinoshita and Narita attempting to subdue the first years, who hadn’t ceased their raucous quarrel.

After this, Tanaka shall relinquish his ace status to Hinata. He’s had it for a year, but it seems so much shorter in retrospect: less an extended exploit and more a moment in the sun. 

It might be the last time he is the best at anything; and the thought sombers him, more than the retreating sunlight and the halting chill that accompanies it. 

The film’s colors sputter out, the blackness holding before it is interrupted by the credits marching in bold white text across the screen. Someone turns on the lights.

"That was fun!" Nishinoya exclaims. Ennoshita chuckles, in the soft, exhausted sound of a god forced to bear the inferior tastes of his human brethren.

"It was action porn," Ennoshita corrects him, jostling Nishinoya’s head as he maneuvers comforter-covered legs, Calpico cans, and mason jars of popcorn. "If we had watched Hitchcock as I’d suggested, none of us would’ve bore witness to a man’s body being ripped to shreds by a Megadolon. Six times, and each without purpose." 

"It’s called a compromise," Nishinoya retorts, stuffing a couple gummy worms through Tanaka’s lips.

Suga laughs. "You just say that whenever you get your way, Nishinoya." Daichi, Suga, and Asahi have returned to celebrate the current third years’ graduation; and, due to the first years heading home after dinner, Tanaka feels as if he had entered a time capsule, existing in a moment that should no longer be possible in the present.

It is so easy to get used and unused to things: Asahi’s ramblings. Nishinoya warm against him. Ennoshita settles beside him, exhaling.

"So, what’s next for you guys?" Daichi asks. Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita articulate their college plans, garnering Suga’s praise and Hinata’s adulation, before the team turns their attention to the ones who hadn’t been accounted for.

"And what about our non-college bound duo? Though I’m hesitant to ask..."

"Super hero," Nishinoya and Tanaka say at the same time, exchanging roguish glances.  

"No, seriously," Asahi says. His eyes are bright and hold a familiar sheen of concern, so often exploited by his underclassmen (see: Nishinoya chugging an entire bottle of hot sauce; see: Nishinoya roping Tanaka and Hinata into a game of roof parkour.) Tanaka folds.

"I got a job at a ramen place waiting tables," Tanaka says. A silence falls on the room—not uncomfortable, but suspended in the air, a posed question.

"Waiting tables?" Asahi asks, speaking carefully. "That’s..." Tanaka’s chest tightens at the hesitation.

"It’s not supposed to be a career," Tanaka replies. He feels the need to add, "it’s just temporary." 

Temporary...as was supposed to be the five foot nine height, the buzz cut. Shaved, to enable the more beautiful to sprout in its place. But as the years passed, all that came was rotting detritus, enough for burial. Doomed to dirt.

"And what about you, Nishinoya?" Suga asks. Tanaka peers at him, curious; Nishinoya has evaded his questions on the subject in the past, offering non-committal responses that fooled no one. Nishinoya’s hand tightens on the Calpico can.

"Well, I guess this a good time to tell you guys," Nishinoya says, grinning. "I’m leaving." 

The room is silent for a moment, before Tanaka leaps up. "What do you mean you’re leaving?" Nishinoya looks at him, his expression softening. 

"Ryuu—" Nishinoya tries, before Daichi interrupts him.

"Leaving Japan?" he asks. His voice is tight and deep, eyes shimmering under the dim lamp light. 

"Yeah. In a couple weeks, actually," Nishinoya replies. "I want to explore the world for a while. I’ll make ends meet when I get there." Hearing the plan out loud, it is so much his friend that Tanaka feels blind for not guessing it before. 

"You’re not going pro?" Kageyama demands. "But—" You’re talented enough, determined, fearless. You could be an Olympic player if you wanted to. 

If you weren’t planning on continuing, then what was all the effort for?

"Volleyball is fun, don’t get me wrong," Nishinoya says. "And I’m going to miss being a libero." Tanaka holds his breath. "But I know I’d regret it if I did it for the rest of my life." Kageyama and Hinata stare at him, mystified at what he could mean.

"So that’s your plan?" Kinoshita asks. "You’re going to explore the world...and then what?"

"I guess I’ll figure it out once I return to Japan," Nishinoya says, and laughs. The rest of them are silent, as if running the information through their fingers. 

Conversation shifts. They end up trading stories about the third years around a pile of empty cans and bags of chips, ribbing Ennoshita about his avant-garde documentaries and Kinoshita about his former bashfulness around the team. Nishinoya keeps trying to catch his eyes, but Tanaka instead chooses to absorb himself in the rug’s paisley design. 

Their voices eventually wear out. The atmosphere in the room is warm and thick, despite the open windows—can’t Ennoshita turn on the air conditioner? and most of the faces farthest from the light are wrapped in shadow. In a rare moment, all of them are still. 

"You know," Ennoshita says. "This might be the last time we’re all in the same room."

Tanaka struggles through the lump in his throat. It really is too warm in here.

"Why would you say that?" Daichi demands. "Of course we’re all going to keep in touch!"

"If any of you try to cut ties with me, I will hunt you down," Suga grins. They laugh to disguise the truth of it all: the former third-years getting busier at college or their jobs, Nishinoya disappearing to a random corner of the world, and Kageyama and Hinata garnering increasing attention from Japanese pro teams, who will no doubt snatch them up once they graduated. 

Tanaka gulps the rest of his soda. Uh oh. Dread starts to well in his stomach at the experience of hearing words he wouldn’t forget. The teeth of Ennoshita’s musings are already sunken into his memory. 

Tanaka helps Nishinoya to the train station; although Nishinoya is only carrying one suit case and a duffle-bag, the latter is completely full of hair spray cans and colorful t-shirts. Nishinoya is rambling about the recent episode of Assassination Classroom when he stops mid-sentence. 

Tanaka lets the silence hang there, before he says, "You’re not a fan of Isogai because—?" He can’t help but fidget under the intensity of Nishonya’s eyes, an expression that has been so rarely directed at him.

"What’s up with you?"  Nishinoya asks. His voice is loud, unfaltering. His hands are on his hips.

"What do you—"

"You’ve been super quiet for the past couple days, and I can’t figure out why," Nishinoya says. They’re stopped in the middle of the street. The cicadas scream.

Tanaka stares at him. "Is that really a question?"

Nishinoya’s eyes widen. If this was a dream, a cool wind would wash through their bodies, and, in the brief disruption of their environment, Nishinoya would finally see him, and understand. 

But no wind comes, and they are trapped in the day’s gumminess. Bodies still. And Nishinoya, though he tries, can’t—won’t—meet him where he wants him to.

"I guess I still can’t wrap my head around you leaving," Tanaka admits. It comes out more vulnerable than he hoped for. It sounds quiet, terrible.

"It’s only for a while," Nishinoya says, offering him a smile. "Once I come home for good I’ll be at your place so often that you’ll be begging me to go on another world trip, just you wait." The words should be comforting. Tanaka raises his head to stare directly into the sun.

"Ryuu?" Nishinoya prompts. Tanaka wrestles himself from his thoughts. 

"Before graduation, I guess I just assumed that we’d room together for a couple years until one of us found a girl—preferably Kiyoko-san but maybe we’d meet someone at our jobs—and left," Tanaka says, feeling his ears heat up. Nishinoya looks at him, lips parted in surprise. "But before that, we’d just do what we did after practice every day at my place—play video games, goof around during dinner—except all the time, and I wouldn’t need to worry about you heading home the next day." Tanaka looks at his friend, suddenly, as if searching for a sign—unhappiness, maybe, even anger—but there is nothing but confusion. 

"Why didn’t you tell me, Ryuu?" 

"Because I didn’t think we had to say these things," Tanaka says. To each other. Nishinoya studies him for a moment longer before he looks at his watch, cursing.

"Shit, I’m running late," Nishinoya says. "Morisuke’s gonna be pissed if I miss my train." Nishinoya turns to run before he notices Tanaka pushing his duffle bag toward him, relieving the pressure on his shoulders. 

"I’m just gonna hold you up if I tag along any further," Tanaka says, keeping his voice light. "You know the way to the train station, right?" Nishinoya pauses for a bit, then nods. 

The wind brushes their faces, this time, too late.

"So this is goodbye," Nishinoya says. His voice is strangled, almost delicate. He loosens, suddenly, and it occurs to Tanaka that Nishinoya has been trying to hold himself together all this time. 

"Not goodbye," Tanaka says, his voice sincere. "Just a, ‘see you later,’ alright?" Nishinoya nods again, biting his lip before he launches himself into Tanaka’s unprepared arms. The force sends Tanaka stumbling back, the ache in his stomach oddly sweet. He wraps his arms around his friend, holding him as tight as he’s able to. 

His shirt dampens by the second. 

It’s a couple minutes before Nishinoya releases him, rubbing a hand across his eyes. His face breaks into a smile.

"Yeah," Nishinoya says. "See you later." Tanaka watches as he slings the duffle bag on his shoulder, hand tightening on the suitcase handle, and in a single, painful moment, walks away. 

If this was a dream Tanaka might have reached out to him. Told him to wait. But he says nothing, and, after releasing the breath he’s been holding, he is almost disappointed to discover that life goes on.

Six months pass. Tanaka has temporarily put aside his future career plans (or, as Daichi has affectionately coined them, his "delusions of grandeur") to focus on the burgeoning number of customers at the restaurant, which has increased after their relocation to a more metropolitan area of Miyagi. 

Nishinoya still texts him regularly, sending him a near constant onslaught of texts recounting inane details of his job or the places he visits, which he has captured in blurred pictures. 

To Tanaka’s surprise, he acclimates to the sudden quiet of his home faster than he expects himself to. He sells half of his video game collection. The clothes Nishinoya keeps at his house disappear further into the closet, collecting dust.

Tanaka feels as if his life is settling into coherence at last when he receives a text from Kiyoko, asking if he’s free this weekend. 

"You’ve barely touched your omurice," Kiyoko says, peering at him through lidded eyes. The evening has been stilted, strange; in front of her, the words lodge in his throat before they can turn into speech. 

"I’m not that hungry," Tanaka replies. He looks at his watch. In a couple minutes he’s supposed to call Nishinoya and update him on the situation, which, he’s starting to realize, is barely a situation at all.

Nothing to call home about.

"I need to go to the bathroom, if you—"

"Tanaka, wait," Kiyoko says, voice raising. He turns to her. While her face is restrained in its usual semblance of placidity, a ripple of desperation catches in her eyes. "What are you so nervous about?"

Tanaka hesitates. What can he tell her so that she would understand? 

"I’m not nervous," Tanaka says, choosing his words. "I’m scared that I’m messing this up." He wants to elaborate, expose her to the strong radiation of his first-person perspective. But he doesn’t, spares her this one confession.

Kiyoko studies him, placing her head in her open palm. Continuing to see him as he is instead of whom he could be. Tanaka’s phone vibrates at his side.

"I’m not leaving," Kiyoko says. She says it as if it’s the simplest fact in the world. "You forget that we’ve known each other for a long time."

Tanaka feels almost mad from insecurity when he forces himself to breathe, putting his head in his hands. He wants to tell her that he understands but the words just can’t come out as honest as he wants them to.

Kiyoko chuckles. "You’re making the same expression you made before the Shiratorizawa match a couple years ago." 

"I am?" Tanaka says, face burning. He should be mortified by the comment, but instead he feels almost glad—because, he smiles to himself, it meant that she had been looking at him.

"Yes," Kiyoko sounds, as if lecturing him. "Just...talk about anything. Your job, what you’ve been up to. I want to hear it all." 

Tanaka is surprised by Kiyoko’s sudden eagerness. He inhales, face tight as if steeling himself for battle. His phone starts vibrating again. He reaches inside and turns it off.

"Okay," he says. He tells Kiyoko about the ramen place and the different types of customers he sees, some of them stressed businessmen who order multiple rounds of beer and others groups of high school students who come in their practice gear, the smell of sweat assaulting his nose as gusts of nostalgia. He tells her about the Saturdays he spends at Narita and Kinoshita’s shared apartment, versing them in games of Daifugō as Ennoshita cards through his selection of old samurai films for the night. He tells her about Saeko’s job at a tattoo parlor and Nishinoya’s random calls in the middle of the night. He tells her about stopping at the Karasuno gym to watch the current team practice and laughing at the third years’ attempts to wrangle a team who seems to get more eccentric each year. 

By the end of it they’re at an ice cream shop close to Kiyoko’s house, she enjoying a raspberry sorbet and he a pistachio ice cream topped by toffee shards. Kiyoko rests her weight on the counter, massaging her leg. 

"Are you—" Tanaka starts, before, "Oh." Kiyoko blinks at him before laughing.

"It’s fine," she says. "They’re just aching a bit more these days." Tanaka bites his lip and then nods, looking at the time.

"Shit, my sister’s gonna kill me. I said I’d be home by ten," he says. He sighs, feeling disappointment seep into him. "I should probably walk you home, huh." He looks into his ice cream cup instead of her, stabbing his spoon into it. 

"Don’t worry about it, I know it’s out of your way," Kiyoko says. She adjusts her bag on her shoulder, finishing the last of her sorbet before she extends her hand. "Until next time." 

Tanaka whips his head toward her, eyes widening. At first she is shrouded in darkness, but then the moonlight is spreading through her face and he can see her clearly. 

"Yeah, sounds good," Tanaka says. They part at the nearest intersection, and, as he returns home, Tanaka can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips.

Tanaka flings clothes onto his bed, one of them hitting the open laptop screen in front of him. 

"Ouch," Nishinoya says, wincing as if he’s been hit. "Be more careful, dude." He’s wearing a blue sleeveless top that’s been darkened by sweat. 

"Where even are you, Noya?" Tanaka asks.

Nishinoya grins. "Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro, duh. I was gonna do it earlier this morning but got food poisoning." Tanaka stops himself from asking the myriad of questions that bubble to his lips: Mount Kilimanjaro ? and Shouldn’t you wait until you’re not poisoned before you climb a mountain and ...Mount Kilimanjaro? He’s come to accept that there are facets of his best friend that he will never understand.

"What do you think of these?" Tanaka holds up a sweater vest and white polo, the one that Saeko had forced him to get for their family reunion. Nishinoya bursts out laughing.

"What, are you presenting your college dissertation to her?" Nishinoya demands. Tanaka blushes, discarding the clothes on his floor. 

"If you’re just gonna tease me I’m hanging up and calling Asahi," Tanaka says. He sifts through his t-shirts, each of them either garish in color or boasting a ridiculous message too large to ignore. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair, feeling suddenly ashamed of himself. 

"Why did no one tell me that I dressed stupid in high school."

The words are said so quietly that Nishinoya doesn’t hear them. Tanaka turns his face from the screen. When he had asked Kiyoko out a week ago, he had hardly expected her to say yes—and less expected himself to live to tell the tale, avoiding any unfortunate calamities that were wont to destroy his good fortune. 

"Dude," Nishinoya says, suddenly serious. Tanaka looks at him, hoping that his best friend would rescue him from himself as he has done so many times before. "What does it matter what you wear? You’re the coolest guy around. And that’s not gonna change whether you’re wearing a suit or speedo." 

It’s the right thing to say. Tanaka exhales, suddenly feeling dramatic for his outburst. Nishinoya stares at him with the assiduous intensity he reserves for volleyball games. He wonders what this means that this look is being leveled at him.

"What do you want, Ryuu?" Noya asks. The question catches him off guard. When Tanaka had told Nishinoya about his intentions to ask Kiyoko out, he hadn’t missed the initial surprise that loosened his friend’s features.

I want this to last , Tanaka decides, but he just can’t say it out loud. 

The team is splayed out in front of Hinata’s television set when his mother enters the room, some folded laundry resting in her arms.

"Shouyou, the door!" she says. "Are you expecting anyone else?" Hinata looks up. While he had casually mentioned that his old friends from middle school might stop by, the thought had become less and less probable as the hours after dinner wore on.

Tanaka, Kiyoko, Daichi, and Suga are the only Karasuno alumni to come to the third year’s graduation dinner. It’s a simple meal of rice, soup, and fish made by Hinata’s mother but it feels oddly perfect for the moment, the mountain of food disappearing readily into their stomachs. 

"I’ll get it," Shouyou says, thrusting the video game controller at Yamaguchi. "Here, you play for me." Yamaguchi doesn’t flounder under the sudden request, easily maintaining Shouyou’s lead in Mario Kart as if it’s a regular occurrence. Tanaka realizes that this is one of the things he is no longer a part of.

Someone puts their hand on his. He turns his head to kiss Kiyoko on her temple.

"Want me to get us some more beers?" Tanaka asks her. She nods. He stands up and registers the current standings in the Mario Kart game before he hears—

"Noya-senpai!" 

His head whips to the door. The sound of his best friend’s laughter filters through the foyer. He hears words that are too muffled for him to discern, but definitely his. 

Somewhere on the screen, a character rides off a cliff.

"Surprised to see me, huh?" Nishinoya says as he enters the room. He sounds a little too proud of himself. "You didn’t really believe I’d miss my dear underclassmen's graduation." He looks around the room, as if searching for someone—and as his eyes land on Tanaka, he stops and smiles.

Before Tanaka can speak, Nishinoya’s attention is elsewhere.

"Look at you, Kageyama, Tsukishima!" he says, ruffling their hair. "You’re so big!" Tsukishima stares at Nishinoya for a moment before smiling. 

"You’re exactly the same," Tsukishima says, meaning it as an insult. It’s somewhat true. Though he’s the same height, Nishinoya has started to shed his high school physique, his body more toned from manual labor and tanned from the sun. He spends a couple more minutes doting on Shouyou before he settles at Tanaka’s side.

"Kiyoko-san! I hope you’ve been treating Ryuu well!" Nishinoya says in the formal voice he reserves for the upperclassmen, before turning onto his best friend. He expects a "hello" or a hug—he hasn’t seen him for a year, after all—but instead he finds himself fixed in that intense gaze again. 

"And you!" Nishinoya points at him. Tanaka can’t help but flinch. "You better be good to Kiyoko, or I’m gonna beat you up, understand?" He’s fooling around. But there is still a scary side of his best friend that Tanaka doesn’t want to trigger, a darkness that he thought he’d be free from after high school.

"I wouldn’t do anything of the sort!" Tanaka stutters. Anger bubbles in his throat at the mere accusation of it. Nishinoya examines him for a moment longer, silent, before he softens and pulls Tanaka into the embrace that he’s been waiting for.

"I’ve missed you, Ryuu," he says. Tanaka can feel his eyelashes flutter against his shoulder blades. He returns the hug, remembering to fold into his shape.

"Me too."

They pass the rest of the night in this fashion. Nishinoya and Tanaka are sufficiently inebriated by the end of it, to the amusement of Daichi and Suga and the horror of their underclassmen. When Nishinoya says that he’s heading outside for some fresh air, Tanaka follows him.

Tanaka finds Nishinoya slumped against the wall. He scooches to the side as Tanaka falls next to him, their shoulders knocking. 

Outside, a volleyball lies carelessly on the grass. It is coated in dirt, hardly pristine.

"Played volleyball recently?" Tanaka asks. 

Nishinoya looks straight ahead. "Nope."

A beat of silence. "You?"

"Me neither." They remain silent for a moment before Nishinoya turns to him.

"I’m heading out in a couple minutes," he says. Tanaka blinks for a moment before straightening.

"What do you mean, you’re heading out? You only got here an hour ago!" The words come out indignant. He bites his lip.

"I need to catch a plane to Austria," he says, as if it’s an explanation. "The ticket prices during the day are crazy, so—"

"So you can’t even stay the night?" Tanaka bites out before he exhales, running a hand through his cropped hair. Nishinoya looks at him, surprised.

"I mean what’s so important in Austria that you can’t even celebrate the third years' graduation properly?" Tanaka demands. "Hinata, Kageyama, Tsukishima, Yamaguchi—do all of them mean nothing to you?"

Nishinoya stays silent for a moment. "I don’t understand what you mean." Tanaka almost laughs incredulously, but stops himself; because, for all the ways in which they are similar, their brains are wired so differently that they might as well be separate species altogether. He lets out a breath.

"Forget it," he says. "It’s just that you’re —" Too fast. " —so fast. So much so that it’s all us mere mortals can do to keep chasing you. And still, no matter what we try, we’re still just limited to glimpses."

"It’s as if—" Tanaka steels himself. "You’re not really a part of our lives anymore. Just passing by." The frequent texts between them are enough to refute this insane assertion of his. All the same, he veils his voice in a cloth of sadness so that Nishinoya won’t bear witness to the anger beneath.

"Hey—" Nishinoya says, as if Tanaka is crying. He isn’t. Nishinoya puts his hands on his shoulders, as if he’s about to deliver some words of encouragement. He doesn’t need them.

"We’re gonna be alright," Nishinoya says. It’s not the right thing to say. Because Nishinoya is a present sort of man, not worrying about what’s to come—so when he starts to speak in terms of the future, Tanaka knows that there isn’t anything that he can do to change their current situation.

Nishinoya stands up, dusting the grass from his pants. He leaves a couple minutes later. Tanaka feels Kiyoko’s eyes on him as the hours wear on. 

"You want to go home?" she asks. He nods. I want to go home, he would say, as anyone would when they’re tired or disoriented or scared—and she would take him there, and wait for the storm to pass.

It’s a mess in the Tanaka household. Due to the impatient nature of their family lineage, it was decided that Akiteru would move in at the same time that Tanaka would move out—for "efficiency reasons" as Saeko sees it, which could be renamed as her crippling fear of being alone.

Tanaka struggles to maneuver the minefield of boxes, cursing as he stubs his toe on a wrapped tower of comic books. Kinoshita laughs from somewhere behind him.

"This has to be your worst idea yet," he says, as sounds of Ennoshita explaining to Saeko that no, they can’t move their just-purchased king-sized bed into Saeko’s bedroom before they load some of the boxes into the moving van echo through the halls.

"Yeah, yeah. At least Saeko won’t be calling me every night for hours," Tanaka says, memories of nights at training camp spent glued to his cellphone causing him to shudder. 

It’s only been a year since Tanaka confessed to Kiyoko but already he’s saved enough money to get them a small apartment in Miyagi. It was easy, he realized, when he started sacrificing the things he didn’t really need —the next installment of the Final Fantasy Series, for instance, or an extra beer during his Friday meetings with Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita at the nearby bar. And Saeko’s donation helped—a fourth of the apartment’s price, he had thought when he held the dollar bills in his hands. 

That night, he had let Saeko ruffle his hair as much as she wanted.

"When’s your furniture supposed to arrive?" Ennoshita asks, face still red from his spat with Saeko. 

"In a couple days. Kiyoko is bringing some futons from her place that we can use before the bed comes," he replies. She was probably already waiting for him there, he figures, because she didn’t need to handle a well-meaning but endearingly incompetent sister’s boyfriend and an older sister who was in the middle of processing the soon-to-be sudden absence of her brother from her daily routine.

"Hey Tanaka, what do you want me to do with these?" Kinoshita asks, crouching at the corner of his closet. In his hands are several shirts, their bright color eclipsed by layers of dust. 

They’re Noya’s, Tanaka immediately realizes. From high school. He takes them into his hands. They’re filthy, wrinkled—one of them is torn at the sleeve from where a hanger had impaled it—but they are his friend’s, and it is for this reason alone that Tanaka doesn’t discard them.

"Put them in the clothes box," Tanaka says thickly. Kinoshita complies, stuffing the rest among Tanaka’s sweatshirts and cargo pants. Tanaka brings the ones in his hands to his nose, smelling for anything familiar.

Nothing.

"Ryuu," Saeko says. He looks up to see that she’s crying. "It’s almost time to go." He swallows, nodding. He closes the box with moving tape and leaves the room.

Behind him are Ennoshita, Kinoshita, and Narita, lifting boxes into their hands. Behind him are Nishinoya and himself, playing video games well into midnight. Behind him are candy bar wrappers and dented controllers and Saeko butting in to tell them to be quiet. 

But we’ll never be those kids again. His phone buzzes. Kiyoko. He grins, bringing the phone to his ear.

"Hi, honey," he says. "I’m coming home."

It isn’t rare for Tanaka to get excited about things. 

"You’re not serious about this," Kiyoko says, reading the email on Tanaka’s phone. When Terushima had informed him about the opportunity to be a diver for the Science Institute of Miyagi he had immediately emerged from the kitchen from which he had been preparing dinner to tell Kiyoko. He couldn’t help but feel slightly depressed at her complete absence of reaction.

"I am," he says. "It would be so fun! I would just dive, collect some samples, and—"

"It’s dangerous," she replies. "Don’t you hear those stories about the divers who die because their oxygen tanks malfunction? Or who get the bends?’ Tanaka grits his teeth.

"The chance of that happening is one out of a million," he says. Kiyoko rolls up the article she was reading. She had stopped wearing glasses a while ago.

"What?" she demands, as if it’s a threat. "What’s so bad about your life here?"

The question catches Tanaka off guard. Nothing, he wants to say—but that isn’t quite the truth. He’s dating Kiyoko, he has a house, friends—but he still feels as if the gears of his are not coming together as they should. 

He’s pretty sure Nishinoya would understand if he was here, but he actually hasn’t spoken to him in a couple days. It’s not much time—he talks to his upperclassmen far less frequently—but with Nishinoya, the shift is jarring.

"Nothing," he insists. "It’s just—" He sighs. "Do I really want to be a goddamn waiter for the rest of my life?" He clenches his fists together, hard enough to form tiny crescents on his palms.

The pasta is probably soft at this point, Tanaka muses, and the tomato sauce warm on the kitchen counter. "I want to do something important," he says, lamely. As if this meant something to her.

It does; he sees that it does from the way her lips turn downward in a kind of mourning. He wonders what he said to put that expression there.

"You are," she says. She says the words slowly, as if she wants him to truly hear them. "You are, just by being with me."

Tanaka crumples. He loves her, and yet—

"I need to quit my job, Kiyoko," he says.  Kiyoko stares at him, lips parted, but she doesn’t look surprised. In fact, she looks as if she's known that he’d say this one day, and has been waiting all this time.

"Okay," Kiyoko says. It’s all that he needs to hear. "Okay, Ryuu. You can quit."

Nishinoya rubs the foam from his mouth. Their meeting had come out of the blue: one moment Tanaka was finishing up an appointment with a client, and the next he was getting a call from his best friend, telling him that he was returning home for a couple weeks and asking if he could crash at his and Kiyoko’s place during that time.

To Tanaka’s disappointment, the trip wasn’t voluntary. His grandfather was moving to a small house in the countryside and Nishinoya had been left to arrange the selling of their house. Tanaka has taken him to the bar after a short stop at their apartment, where Nishinoya had dropped off his stuff in the foyer and gone to raid the closet.

"Where’s that futon I used to sleep on?" Nishinoya had asked. "The one with the blue pattern?" When Tanaka had informed him that they’d left it at Saeko’s place, Nishinoya demanded that they drive there to retrieve it. The detour had resulted in a protracted conversation between them and Saeko, with Saeko clutching onto Nishinoya as if he would evaporate into the air if she let go. In retrospect, Tanaka wasn’t surprised—while it had only been a year and a half since he’d seen Nishinoya face-to-face, it had nearly been three for her. Even so, he didn’t hesitate to pry Nishinoya from the-house-that-was-no-longer-his after three hours of intense conversation. They departed after promising Saeko that they would come to dinner that weekend.

"Weird that Tsukishima’s gonna be your brother-in-law soon," Noya says, grimacing as he swallowed the last of his beer. Tanaka shudders at the thought.

"Dude, don’t remind me," he says. "Whenever I head over to Saeko’s place, he’s always there. And he doesn’t even look happy to see me. He just stares at me with that half-formed sneer of his." 

Nishinoya laughs, clutching at his stomach. "Wow, you’ve got it bad. At least Saeko is happy though, right? She definitely seems more at peace than the last time I saw her." Tanaka is about to ask him what he means by this when he recalls the day that Nishinoya had left on his world trip. He remembers Saeko slinging an arm around his shoulders, delivering an affectionate noogie to Nishinoya’s head as she blinked past tears. That had been a hard period for her, and not just because of Nishinoya’s departure: she had just left her good-for-nothing boyfriend, the cellist in her college’s orchestra and a textbook asshole. 

"Yeah," Tanaka says. "Yeah, she is." The words sting on his lips. "It really has been a long time since you left, huh?" Almost three years. Nishinoya shrugs and nods. 

"I’m just seeing where life takes me, you know?" Nishinoya says, laughing. Seeing where life takes you?  Tanaka’s eyes widen. That’s what... he muses, bitterly, that’s what kids do. 

"But don’t you think you should take a break for a while?" Tanaka asks. "I mean Christ, Noya. You’re in your twenties. You need to start thinking about what you’re gonna do with your life." The words sound perfectly reasonable to him. For some reason, Nishinoya bristles.

"What I wanna do with my life?" Nishinoya asks. The intense aura has returned, eyes gleaming. "I’m already doing what I wanna do with my life." 

Tanaka has the urge to roll his eyes. "Okay, but we both know that traveling the world and taking odd jobs isn’t exactly realistic. Look, Daichi-san is already training to be a police officer, Suga’s an assistant teacher at Kannari. Hell, Asahi is the most unassertive guy around and he’s got an internship at—"

"What’s your point?" Nishinoya asks. Tanaka stops, wondering if his friend is genuinely confused or playing dumb. He lets out a breath, rubbing at his eyes. 

"It’s all well and good that you’re enjoying yourself, Noya," Tanaka says. "But you need to get a job that has stability too. You need healthcare, insurance, a retirement fund—"

"Woah," Nishinoya says, and Tanaka grits at teeth at the ease with which he interrupts him. But the ire fades at the utter astonishment on Nishinoya’s features, as if he’s been teleported into a different space, or the person who sits in front of him is a stranger. "I thought that Chikara might say that to me, even Asahi if he had the courage—but not you." Tanaka can’t tell why he feels ashamed at those words, but barely has time to parse through his feelings before Nishinoya continues.

"In all honesty, I’m surprised that you’re still working as a waiter in Miyagi," he says. "Or what was it? A personal trainer? I invited you so many times to join me on my trip, but you kept saying no. I thought you just didn’t like me that much anymore, then I thought it was about Kiyoko, but now? Now, I see that you’ve changed." He instills the last word with so much frustration that the air catches in Tanaka’s throat. He reminds himself to breathe.

"I enjoy being a personal trainer," he says, because he does. "I’m happy with my life here." Nishinoya chuckles before he finishes, the disbelief shining in his eyes. 

"Really, Ryuu?" Nishinoya asks. He laughs, as if what Tanaka had said was funny. Nishinoya may believe that he knows Tanaka better than he knows himself, and at one point of his life he might have—but they aren’t in high school anymore, and Nishinoya has made a serious miscalculation. 

"Well, fine, I guess," Nishinoya says. "If this is really what you want." He catches the attention of the bartender. Orders another round of beers. Tanaka doesn’t say anything, but he’s starting to feel a little nauseous.

"You have it easy, Nishinoya," Tanaka whispers. His voice is low enough to still him. 

"You can do whatever you want. Since you don’t care about anyone, really." Nishinoya straightens in his chair, eyes set ablaze. 

"Yeah," Tanaka says, smiling to himself. "That’s right. You’re alone. And because you’re alone and you refuse to stop long enough to spend time with anyone, you’ll continue to hurtle into adulthood until you combust. And you won't ever grow up." 

By this time, the bar is getting fuller and fuller from the after-dinner throng of people. The bartender is getting annoyed at their extended use of their stools. Neither of them move. Because right then, a tiny rift opens up between them—so small that it’s barely recognizable, but a crack indeed. 

"I—" Nishinoya starts, before he bites his lip. "I, uh. Don’t know what to say." 

They don’t speak much after that, except about minor technicalities such as who would foot the bill and what they should do about the futon they’d spent all that time acquiring. Neither of them are up for a fight. After returning to Tanaka’s apartment, Nishinoya rolls his suitcases into the hall.

"You don’t need any help getting to Kinoshita’s place?" Tanaka asks. 

"Nah, I’m good," Nishinoya says, even though it’s a thirty minute walk uphill. "Thanks. It was—" he stops himself. "We had a good couple beers." A smile ghosts his lips, and then he turns. Tanaka doesn’t miss the way that the sunlight illuminates his small frame. But what causes him to stare is the shirt he’s wearing, the black kanji written on the white fabric.

One Man Army.

It is this that Tanaka looks at as he disappears into the distance, body turning into a silhouette as he’s swallowed by the night.

They are sitting under Suga’s kotatsu: he, Ennoshita, Kinoshita, Narita, Daichi, and Suga, sharing a container of salted edamame. He can’t help the adrenaline that pours through his veins, an aftereffect of his training sessions that he’s come to relish. 

"Plan R," Tanaka says. The people around him groan. "Alright, sit up guys. I’m almost done. Plan R involves Kinoshita and Narita kidnapping me, Suga playing the Mafia Boss, and—"

"That plan is not gonna get her to be your wife," Ennoshita says. "But it will get her to break up with you. If that’s what you’re aiming for."

"What in the world told you that pranking her would be a good idea?" Daichi says, practically seething. "You are dating Shimizu, right? Not some weird doppelgänger? Because I don’t believe in magic by any means, but that’s the only explanation I can conceive of for why you guys are still together." Tanaka knows Daichi well enough to understand that he’s kidding, but the words sting all the same. 

"I won’t agree to any plan unless it involves me playing an evil mastermind in some way," Suga says. Daichi pinches him.

"What did Nishinoya suggest?" Narita asks, popping an edamame pod in his mouth. "Not that his advice would be helpful, but sometimes he has those weird flashes of genius." Tanaka tenses at the name. He rubs his head, laughing.

"I haven’t asked him," he says. "We actually, uh, haven’t spoken to each other for a couple months or so." He gets some strange looks but no one presses the issue. 

"Yeah, me neither, actually," Daichi says. "Although he and Asahi still text sometimes. In fact, I don’t believe that Asahi would’ve applied for that fashion internship if Nishinoya hadn’t basically written the application for him."

But that’s all they say about Nishinoya for the night. After brainstorming a dozen or so plans, they agree that the simpler plan, the better one. 

So this is what Tanaka does: he goes into their bedroom one night before bed. Kiyoko is already propped up on several pillows, reading lamp on as she flips open a novel. He holds a bouquet of roses behind him. 

Climbing into bed, he kisses her forehead, then the top of her nose; he puts his fingers around her face, cupping it; he reaches into his pocket, to discover that the ring isn’t there.

They spend that night searching for it in the garden. It eventually resurfaces near the peonies, where he had been practicing his speech earlier that day. He asks her the question:

Will you marry me

And she responds by wrapping her arms around his shoulders, pressing her forehead against his. He had been nervous before, but he realizes now that he has known what she’d say all this time.

"Yes, Ryuu," she says. "I’ll marry you."

Tanaka’s throat is constricting rapidly. He can’t say anything else except, "Can we stay here for a while?"

So they do. The cicadas emerge. The soil is dirtying his pants; a problem for another time. He wonders if out of all the plans he has made, this one ended up being the most absurd: kneeling in their garden at 1 AM, falling asleep when there is an empty bed upstairs.

Some would call them strange, but they just didn’t understand. 

Tanaka is woken up by the sound of his phone’s ringtone. Kiyoko groans as she stirs in her bed. 

"Who is it?" she asks, not hiding the irritation in her voice. Tanaka blinks blearily at his phone screen, focusing his eyes.

"Fucking..." Tanaka begins throatily, before his eyes widen. "Noya." Kiyoko turns on the lamp. When Tanaka looks at her, he’s surprised at the alarmed glint in her eyes. 

"It might be serious," Kiyoko says. Although Tanaka doesn’t want to admit it, she’s probably right; they haven’t spoken to each other once since their fight. If he’s calling him, could it be...

Hospital? he wonders, his stomaching lurching. Trouble with the police? Did he get arrested does he need money is he safe is he stable—

"I’m gonna take this outside," Tanaka says. "Go back to sleep." Kiyoko hesitates but nods, turning off the lamp. Tanaka heads out into the living room, picking up the phone. 

"Hello?" he asks. "Noya, what’s—"

"Hey, Ryuu!" Tanaka’s eyes dampen at the voice. He sounds fine, happy even—nothing’s wrong, then why—

"Are you okay, Noya?" Tanaka asks. Silence cuts through the phone for a second.

"Yeah, why?" Tanaka blinks for a second, before huffing out a sigh which he can’t tell is out of exasperation or relief. Perhaps it is merely out of exhaustion. 

"Noya, it’s 3 AM."

Silence, again. "Oops, sorry. It’s 1 AM here in New Zealand. Is this not a good time?" Tanaka wants to yell that no, this is not a good time, he as well as the entire population of Japan are currently sleeping, but remembers again that these rules of logic are useless against his friend. 

"No, I’m up," he says. "What’s up?" The question he wants to ask is what do you need? but he stops himself from posing it prematurely.

"Nothing much," he says. "I’ve been herding goats for a month or so. It’s pretty fun." He doesn’t speak for a while. Tanaka realizes that he’s waiting for a response.

He clears his throat. "Goat herding?" 

"Yup!" Nishinoya chirps. "It’s pretty time-consuming, but I’ve gotten to know the goats really well. My favorite one is Daisy. She has a blue collar and a black face and legs. Hold on, I’ll send you some pics." Tanaka’s phone suddenly buzzes as Nishinoya sends him pictures of her in different poses and positions. He has to pinch himself to ensure that he isn’t dreaming. 

"She’s really cute," he replies, because there isn’t much else to say. Nishinoya hums his agreement.

They spend the night catching up. Nishinoya asks him about his job as a personal trainer, sounding genuinely interested, and Tanaka conveniently ignores his friend’s less than respectful comments on the job in the past to respond truthfully and at length. Nishinoya compliments him more times than once, asking dozens of follow-up questions that encourage Tanaka into delivering extended monologues about his clients and training regimens. In return, Tanaka asks him about the places he’s been to since they last spoke, to which Nishinoya responds with equal readiness. 

"And what about you and Kiyoko-san?" Nishinoya asks. There’s a slight hesitation in his voice, as if the subject is touchy. 

As if he suspects that they split up.

"We’re good," Tanaka says, coughing out a laugh before he remembers. "Actually, uh. We’re engaged."

Silence assaults him from across the line. Tanaka strains his ears, but there is nothing. He wonders if Nishinoya has hung up on him entirely. 

He sits in silence for a couple moments, before he hears Nishinoya’s voice again. "Holy shit."

There’s an oddly scratchy quality to his voice that Tanaka can’t place. He wonders what Nishinoya is feeling. 

"Yeah, holy shit," Tanaka agrees, though the surreality of the decision has worn off. "We don’t know when—"

"How long?" Nishinoya asks. The words die on Tanaka’s tongue. He has the urge to either end the call or lie. But both of them know that he can’t do either.

"Three months," Tanaka says. And they are silent for a long time.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" Nishinoya asks. The scratchiness of his voice has returned but it’s different this time, almost incredulous. 

Tanaka shrugs. "I don’t know," he says. "We weren’t really speaking."

Tanaka wonders if they’ll fight again. He realizes that he doesn’t possess the energy. But he has time for Nishinoya, he always has—all he has is time for him, he realizes, the one resource in which Nishinoya falls short.

"I’m coming home today," Nishinoya announces. Tanaka blinks. 

"Huh?" Tanaka asks. "Is that why you called me?" 

"No. I decided three seconds ago." Tanaka hears the loud, familiar pounding of Nishinoya’s computer keys. He’s briefly reminded of when they used to jam controller knobs while playing Mario Kart. 

He doesn’t know why he remembers it. He hasn’t thought about high school in a long time.

"We need to talk," Nishinoya says. "So I’m gonna come home for two weeks and we’re gonna sort this out. You and Kiyoko-san alright if I crash at yours?"

Tanaka nods. He’ll explain the situation to Kiyoko in the morning. They create hurried plans to meet at the Miyagi train station before Nishinoya hangs up, saying that he needs to tend to the pastures.

Tanaka stares at his phone for a minute, wondering why Nishinoya had called him in the first place. Perhaps he really did just want to ramble about goats and listen to anecdotes from Tanaka’s job. 

Perhaps he just wanted to hear his voice.

When Tanaka slips into bed he falls asleep to the rhythm of Kiyoko’s even breaths, lulling him into a peaceful slumber without phonecalls and farms and weird best friends who call you out at 3 AM because they know that you’ll always pick up. 

They are sitting on the couch. Nishinoya’s bags are in the foyer, the futon he has slept in since high school stretched out in the guest room.

"So were you really not gonna tell me about the wedding?" Nishinoya asks, sipping from his box of orange juice. "Just get married without offering me the chance to be there?" Tanaka objects, wanting to say that no, that wasn’t the plan at all —but he stops himself, aware that those weren’t the words that Nishinoya wanted to hear.

"I was gonna tell you at some point," Tanaka admits. "I just didn’t know when. We haven’t even set a date for the wedding yet, so I figured both of us had time to, you know. Figure shit out." 

Nishinoya squints at him. "I didn’t exactly see you trying to reach out to me." For all the seriousness of their conversation, Tanaka has changed into a sleeveless white shirt and boxers. Nishinoya is wearing one of his old shirts from high school. Empty boxes from the nearest yakitori place are spread out around them.

"About what I said that day," Nishinoya says, before scrunching his nose. "I honestly can’t remember."

Tanaka lies. "Me neither."

"But I can say," Nishinoya says, face serious, "that I’ve been all around the world, but nothing beats seeing your face." Tanaka’s chest tightens at the words. He almost asks Nishinoya to rescind them. 

"I was gonna tell you," Tanaka repeats, and he’s surprised that he says it with feeling. "I was gonna tell you...because you’re my best friend."

Nishinoya turns around as if he’s surprised to hear it from him. He shouldn’t be. They have been best friends for a while—indeed, for as long as Tanaka can care to remember. He has had several best friends before, but all pale in comparison to the way that Tanaka feels about him. 

"Christ, Noya," Tanaka continues. "When are you gonna come home for good?" He asks it because it’s the only question on his mind. He asks it because it’s been the question behind all those other questions before. He realizes that all this time he has been hiding.

"I dunno," Nishinoya says. "I actually, uh. Didn’t expect to be gone so long, either." He swishes the orange juice in his mouth, occupying himself as he does during uncomfortable situations. Tanaka sighs. 

"But I’m not leaving until I know that we’re okay," Nishinoya says. "Because I want this to work. I’m trying really hard to make it work." 

Tanaka swallows the rest of his water, rubbing at his head. He doesn’t know what Nishinoya wants him to say. Tanaka always feels as if he’s a puppet when he’s around him, waiting for his friend to pull at his strings.

"So," Nishinoya asks, offering him a smile. "Are we good?"

Tanaka starts to respond before he glances at Nishinoya’s face. He’s surprised to see his friend looking somber, almost desperate. He no longer feels pressured by that intense expression that Nishinoya wears, but instead recognizes it as a sign of helplessness. Tanaka realizes that Nishinoya has no desire to control him anymore. 

"We’ll get there, Noya," he says, because it’s the truth. "We’ll get there." 

He pretends to not notice the way that Nishinoya’s expression falters, or the tears that spring to his eyes before he dries them on his arm. Tanaka slings an arm around his friend, pouring him some beer.

"So, tell me more about this goat-herding gig."

"Well, it’s actually not a gig but more of a full-time career," Nishinoya says, clearing his throat. Tanaka can only recline in his chair and listen. "You might believe that goat herding is just leading goats from pasture to pasture, but it’s actually an incredibly complex and spiritual endeavour. In fact, dealing with goats is actually more difficult than dealing with humans, because, they’re...they’re...they feel things, Ryuu, and they have personalities, desires—"

Tanaka thought that Nishinoya was a match: he would light himself on fire and then burn out. But he’s more similar to the grass that yields to Tanaka’s toes: he encompasses everything. He subsists on light.

They are at Saeko’s place, sitting around the dining table. Boxes of food are crammed onto the wooden surface, most of them filled with delicacies that look too perfect to eat. 

He, Suga, Tsukishima, and Yamaguchi are in charge of choosing a caterer for their wedding. At the head of the table sits Nishinoya—or more precisely, a laptop that is rendering Nishinoya out of pixels. 

"Remember out-loud descriptions, guys, out-loud descriptions!" Nishinoya says. Tsukishima groans, looking close to destroying the computer. Or ending the video call. Either act seems characteristic of him. 

"You realize that you’re contributing nothing to this meeting, right?" Tsukishima asks. He seems genuinely curious. "And holding kitchen utensils is fooling no-one." Nishinoya’s doesn’t set aside the chopsticks in his hands, his grin widening.

"Well, that all depends on the accuracy of your descriptions!" Nishinoya says. "Besides, I’m the best man. And as the best man and local connoisseur of Ryuu’s taste in food, music, clothes, and beyond, I am the best person to tell you what he would enjoy most."

"Can’t he tell us that?" Yamaguchi asks. "I mean, he’s right here." Tanaka laughs but doesn’t contribute to the quarrel. It’s been difficult organizing the wedding. He’s had to juggle Nishinoya’s remote location as well as Nishinoya’s simultaneous desire to be part of each decision in the planning process. Some call it narcissistic. Personally, Tanaka wonders if Nishinoya just wants Tanaka to see him trying.

"First dish," Tanaka says, opening the box and distributing the plates. On each platter are finely cut slabs of salmon sashimi, resting in a light coating of sesame oil and topped by ginger slices and leaves of cilantro. Tanaka pops them into his mouth, eyes drooping as the fish melts on his tongue.

"Holy shit," Tanaka says. "This is incredible." He turns to the screen, nearly coughing up his mouthful at Nishinoya’s expression of barely concealed impatience. "It has the perfect amount of salt. And the fish—"

"—Just melts," Suga continues, sighing. "Nishinoya, just imagine eating a cloud. Made out of salmon." 

"I thought it was a bit heavy," Tsukishima says. Tanaka rolls his eyes.

"Why did I even invite you, Tsukishima," Tanaka says, using his surname even though both Saeko and Akiteru are pressuring him to use Kei. Tanaka isn’t sure he’ll ever be ready for that degree of emotional intimacy with his former teammate. 

"Sounds great!" Noya says. "But we should try them all to be sure. We don’t want anything less than the best for our dear Ryuu, do we?" There’s a chorus of agreement in which Tsukishima’s muttered admittance of not particularly caring sends Noya into an extended and surprisingly verbose diatribe and Suga into an impersonation whose accuracy and absurdity causes them all to burst into laughter. 

In the end, they end up choosing the salmon dish, as well as ordering rice balls from Miya Osamu’s shop (including tenmusu , Kiyoko’s favourite) and a wedding cake from the bakery at which Tendou is an employee. 

The wedding isn’t for three months but Tanaka can’t help but feel as if he’s suspended somewhere in the past. The suit fitting, the taste tests, the curation of the wedding register—it all seems as if this should already be done. For in truth, Tanaka has felt married to Kiyoko for a long time. 

Nishinoya has rented out a couple days at an onsen for the bachelor party. Everyone is here besides Hinata, Kageyama, and Yamamoto, all of whom are busy practicing in their D1 teams. He’s a little disappointed at first until he remembers that Nishinoya would be returning for an entire month. It’s hard to remain in a sour mood after the thought crosses his mind.

All of them are lounging in the hot springs. The water saps them of their energy. No one is speaking, but it isn’t uncomfortable: in fact, Tanaka realizes that he hasn’t felt this peaceful in a long time.

He glances at Nishinoya. He is resting his head on the stone, eyes closed. His hair clumps against his forehead from Tanaka splashing him an hour ago. It’s probably unhealthy for them to be in the water this long, but not one of them has left yet.

After all, it’s warm here in the water. They’re not ready to return to the cold air awaiting them. 

Nishinoya opens his eyes. Tanaka blinks before he realizes what he’s doing, a blush creeping across his face. Instead of getting flustered, Nishinoya offers a sly smile. 

"Caught you looking," he says. It’s so high school. Tanaka wonders to whom Nishinoya is saying this: him, or the person he had been in those years past. He wonders if Nishinoya can understand concepts such as change and time and boundaries.

"You’re gonna be married in a month." Tanaka hesitates, then nods. He notices the glassy quality in Nishinoya’s eyes, and he wonders if he’s feeling alright or has been in the water too long. Nishinoya brushes the bangs from his face, chuckling.

"It’s weird," Nishinoya says, his words slurring. "I kind of feel like I’m losing you." Tanaka inhales sharply. He regrets the action almost immediately. He ends up caught in a coughing fit, destroying the magic of the moment all at once.

"You alright, Tanaka?" Daichi mumbles from the opposite side of the onsen. He looks sleepy, as if just woken up from a dream.

Tanaka flashes him a thumbs-up. He looks into the water at the oscillating image of his legs beneath the surface. He does it mostly because Nishinoya is still looking at him. 

Nishinoya has just said the words that Tanaka wanted to hear. So, what is this bitter feeling in his stomach? What is this flash of anger cutting through his brain? 

Tanaka is tightening his tie. It’s become a nervous tic of his in the days before the wedding. It’s an exertion of control. 

"Hey, handsome," Ennoshita says. "Feeling good?" Tanaka’s heart jumps at the words.

"No," he says. "Not at all." 

Tanaka falls onto a stool. Ennoshita is by his side immediately, concern apparent in his features.

"You nervous, again?" Ennoshita asks. He puts a comforting hand on Tanaka’s shoulder. "Dude, you’re gonna be great. What could possibly go wrong?" 

Any number of things, Tanaka wants to say. For instance, Kiyoko could decide that she didn’t want to marry him after all. Or—well, besides that, Tanaka can’t conceive of a more terrifying scenario.

Better that she tells him today, he reasons, than let him force her into a marriage of dread, dissatisfaction, and resentment. Yes, this was good for the both of them—

"Oh my god," Tanaka says, struggling to breathe. "Where’s Noya?"

Ennoshita is silent for a moment. "Checking for bombs, last time I checked. Want me to drag him in here?" Tanaka can only nod, the knots in his stomach tightening and untightening in a nauseating fashion.

In a couple minutes Tanaka hears multiple footsteps come into the room and a pair of hands land on his shoulders.

"Ryuu," someone says. He looks up at his best friend, tears in his eyes.

"The wedding’s off," he says, blubbering. "She despises me she’s ashamed of me she realizes that she’s too good—"

"Did she really say that?" Nishinoya asks. His face is serious. It reminds him of a similar expression he used to wear in high school, when—Tanaka can’t remember. When—  

"Well, no," Tanaka says, breaths returning to a more normal rhythm. "Well, not yet—" He  yelps when he feels hands slapping his cheeks hard. His face burns, but then he opens his eyes. 

Nishinoya is standing in front of him. The tension in Tanaka’s shoulders immediately eases. Oh yeah, Tanaka muses, casually. He wears that expression when he’s in the middle of making a great save. 

"Have you and Kiyoko ever fought?" Nishinoya asks. Tanaka is caught off-guard by the question.

"Uh, yeah. Several times."

"And did she ever break up with you?" 

Tanaka scrunches his nose. "No." 

"Why?" Tanaka wonders if he hears him right.

"What did you say?" 

"Why?" Nishinoya asks. "Why didn’t she break up with you?" Tanaka blinks. He tries to formulate a response, but can’t.

"I don’t know," he says, face falling. "Noya, I don’t know." The tears escape from his eyes at last. He lets his hands remain limp, the feeling of teardrops dropping from his chin oddly comforting. 

"Come on," Nishinoya says. "Of course you do." Tanaka fumbles for a moment before saying the words that he has refused to say out loud, for fear that they would break the magic spell he’s surely cast on himself. 

"Because she loved me," he says. Once he says them, his body suddenly feels lighter. "She did. She does."

Nishinoya hums in agreement, the response satisfying him. Tanaka ruminates for a bit, locating the true source of his discontentment behind the ridiculous ones.

"Yeah, she loves me now, but what if she stops?" Tanaka asks. "What if one day she wakes up and realizes that she just doesn’t feel that way anymore?" He sniffles, rubbing his eyes with the cuff of his shirt. 

"I can’t promise that won’t happen," Nishinoya says. "Love is strange. Sometimes self-centered, frustrating relationships last a lifetime, and true love for only a couple years. But I’ll tell you this." He leans in close, as if imparting a well-kept secret. 

"Love isn’t a thing you feel. It’s a thing you do . It’s commitment and honesty and care and affection and recognition and respect. So even when the affection fades, real love never truly dies." 

Tanaka stills. He feels incredibly numb, and then incredibly stupid; and then he’s laughing, free, noisy cackles that resound throughout the hall.

"What happened?" Saeko asks, stepping into the room. She glances at Nishinoya in suspicion, who merely shrugs his shoulders.

"Noya’s just being Noya," Tanaka says. The explanation is enough to satisfy her. He tightens his tie for real this time, squaring his shoulders as he prepares himself for the ceremony. 

Tanaka uncrinkles the sheet of paper in his hands. He’s trembling, hard. Kiyoko’s in front of him, and she looks—

Beautiful. A white kimono clothes her slender figure, most of it covered by an outer layer of pink, floral silk. Her black hair is brought up behind her head, fixed by a long, golden clip. Woven around the clip is a branch of cherry blossoms that rests behind her left ear.

Here they are, in this moment. Here & not here. Tanaka doesn’t know if this is present or past. Or merely a glimpse into the future. Time seems to fall apart to its bare skeleton. It is only this moment that is real. All else has already been lost.

It’s time, he reminds himself. To deliver his speech. He wants to tell her that this might be the happiest day of their lives. It’s a warning, not a celebration. He wants to tell her that it will get worse than this. 

But he’ll try, for her. He’ll try and try. 

And yes. He’s under no illusions about marriage. Eventually they might run out of things to say to each other. They might see other, younger people on the street, wondering what if. It’s not a crime. They’ll fight, they’ll tire, they’ll get used to each other. Someday the magic of it all will fade. There are worse fates than this.

For even when there is nothing to say, it is to her that he wants to say nothing; it is with her that he wants to face the monotony of adulthood, the boredom that might last for the rest of his life; it is her that he wants to get used to, damn the thrills of teenage infatuation. It is with her that he wants to mature and age and find the limits of their corporeal forms, recognizing, with a certainty he doesn’t yet possess, that life is temporary and that one day there won’t even be memories  for them to turn to as they surrender their consciousnesses to the dirt. He wants to tell her that he knows this, and still he wants to plunge head first into this adventure with her. 

Everyone is looking at him. He feels suddenly vulnerable under so many eyes. He’s afraid, he realizes, terribly afraid, so thank God he doesn’t need to do this alone. 

"Kiyoko," he says. 

The words come easy.

Dinner finished an hour ago. Tanaka is being pulled from person to person, barely registering each interaction.

"I can’t stop crying," Takeda says, trying and failing to still the quiver of his lips. Tanaka believes that he’s been teary through dinner, to the abashment of a certainly-touched-but-not-quite-emotionally-defunct Ukai. He is pulled into a hug by both of them.

He then finds Hinata and Kageyama. Hinata’s face is flushed from crying as well as he struggles to articulate his feelings about the ceremony. Kageyama looks as if he could be at a post-practice tactics meeting just as much as a wedding. 

"Congratulations," he says. The single word bring Tanaka to tears. 

Saeko is the hardest to handle, crushing him in a hug and then refusing to let go even when he tells her that he can’t breathe. Akiteru is also crying, for mysterious reasons that Tanaka attributes to his empathetic nature. 

After getting assaulted by more emotionally compromised people—a weeping Yamamoto, for instance, and a surprisingly belligerent Daichi who tells him under no uncertain terms that if he dares hurt Shimizu that he’ll slit his throat and eat it for lunch, Tanaka do you think I’m joking? He starts to wonder why he is the one who has to stabilize these people, on what is most definitely the most surreal day of his life. 

He also realizes that he’s lost Kiyoko in all the chaos. Searching for her amidst the throng of people, he spots her and Asahi dancing on the dance floor. His eyes soften as he approaches them.

"Hey, Asahi," Tanaka says. "Mind if I steal my wife for a dance?" Asahi glances up and smiles.

"She’s all yours, Tanaka." 

Tanaka lets Kiyoko slip her hand into his. He wraps an arm around her waist. They move to the music, losing the world around them as it culminates, finally, in their bodies made simple under the moonlight.

"I love you," he says. It’s not the first time he says it. And it’s far from the last. He used to hesitate before saying those three words to anyone, wondering if the hackneyed use of them cheapened them in some way. But he can’t help it. It’s true. 

She looks up at him. "I love you, too." She pauses. "And Ryuu?" 

"Hmm?" he asks. The look in her eyes worries him a little. 

"It’s on purpose," she says. "I love you on purpose."

Tanaka doesn’t hear this conversation:

"—And Ryuu says that he hates rom-coms but he actually loves them, so convince him that he’s doing you a favor by watching it."

"Got it. I know." 

"And he’ll say that he wants to stay up late playing video games or fucking around on the computer, but for the love of God don’t let him do that. He’ll be super spacey the next day. Not mean or anything, but completely zoned out."

"I know. It’s happened a couple times before."

"And when he’s upset he’ll tighten his lips and narrow his eyes a little bit, and he’ll get really quiet. He won’t tell you what’s bothering him but you just need to keep pushing and asking him specific questions, and eventually he’ll open up."

"Of course. I know." 

"And—"

"Gosh, Nishinoya." A ripple of laughter. "Ryuu is my husband. We’ve lived together for years." A pause. Protracted, almost uncomfortable.

"Oh."

Someone shifts in their seat. "Nishinoya?" 

"Huh?"

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah." The word comes out slightly dazed. "Yeah. I’m, uh. I’m sorry."

Something is exchanged between them. Something too delicate to name.

The bench whines. A scratchy voice. "I’m gonna go." 

And she watches him leave and become a stranger.

Tanaka is slumped at the foot of a wall, observing the people still shredding it on the dance floor. His hand is loosely holding a half-full beer bottle. He won’t finish it. He hasn’t the energy. 

People have started to head out: Hinata and Kageyama cite an early practice in the morning, promising to visit soon. Tsukishima says with an expected candour that he has had enough. Takeda and Ukai depart after wishing the married couple their well wishes, Yamamoto and Kuroo are carpooling to Tokyo—

And Tanaka has never been so tired nor so happy in his entire life. He’s shifting his position when he senses someone sitting next to him.

"Hey." He turns to see Nishinoya settling himself against the wall, a smile on his face.

Tanaka has found himself less at Nishinoya’s side than he wants to be this evening. While they had shared exchanges in group conversations and danced together theatrically less than an hour ago, this is, Tanaka realizes, the first time since the wedding in which they are truly alone. 

"Hey," Tanaka replies. 

"Fun night."

Tanaka chuckles. "You bet."

Tanaka trails off, nearly falling asleep, before he remembers what he’d been meaning to say. "Thanks for being my best man, dude. You did a great job." 

Nishinoya stares at him, flusters. "Oh, no. Thanks, but I didn’t do that much—"

"You planned the bachelor party, you helped me choose a suit, you handled all the stressful stuff, the registry, arranging the venue—"

"It’s nothing less than you deserve," Nishinoya says. "I just did what anyone one else would do. Anyone that was friends with you, that is."

"Oh come on. That best man speech of yours deserves a Pulitzer." Nishinoya flushes deeper, but he doesn’t object to the compliment.

"Thanks," he says. They fall silent. 

Tanaka nearly falls asleep again when he pinches himself. He hits Nishinoya’s arm by accident when he attempts a conversational gesture.

"So, uh. Where are you heading to next?" 

"Italy," Nishinoya replies. "I got a job fishing for marlins." Tanaka whistles, rubbing at his eyes.

"Living the dream, Noya," he says. "Living the dream." Nishinoya doesn’t respond to this. There is something brittle about his eyes that Tanaka can’t quite place.

"Still, I can’t wait for this trip of yours to be over," Tanaka says. "I’m still waiting for you to annoy the shit out of me when you return for good." Silence, again. Tanaka turns to Nishinoya, propping his head up on his palm.

"Noya?"

Nishinoya shifts in his seat, eyes fixed on the ground. He seems to be considering his words. "Ryuu, there’s something I need to tell you. Something that I’ve wanted to say for a really long time."

The words shock Ryuu out of his exhaustion for a moment. He sits up straight. 

"What is it?" he asks. Nishinoya is still wearing that pensive expression as if he’s still deciding what to say.

"I’m not coming back," he says. Tanaka blinks, and suddenly he can’t breathe. 

"What?" he says, standing up. "What are you—What do you mean?" Nishinoya looks up at him, and suddenly Tanaka notices the weariness in his features. He digs his nails into his palms.

"I’m not gonna move back to Japan," Nishinoya says. "I’ll visit, of course, but. I’m not coming back for good. I don’t want to. I—" I can’t. 

The air around Tanaka thickens. He feels suffocated by his own body heat. 

For a moment there is a stunning flash of clarity, and then his vision swims.

"When are you leaving?" he asks. 

"Tonight." Nishinoya doesn’t break eye-contact. "I’m catching the last train to Tokyo with Asahi."

"Tonight?" Tanaka repeats. His legs suddenly feel wobbly. "But—" He sounds lame. "But I didn’t get the chance to say goodbye."

And then Nishinoya looks at the ground. "You are," he says. "Right now." There is a moment of silence between them. Tanaka wants to be angry, but he just can’t find it in him.

He settles for returning to his seat against the wall, toppling the bottle of beer as he does so. It spills out onto the concrete, a stream of bubbling copper foam on the white, speckless pavement. 

His throat constricts. Still, he looks at Nishinoya. Their eyes meet. Neither moves.

"You’re my best friend," Nishinoya says. His eyes are full and impossibly bright. It’s hurts to look, but Tanaka can’t look away. 

Instead, he pulls his friend into a bone-crushing hug. It’s a Tanaka specialty. It’s for when the world is falling apart and you’ve only got your arms to hold it together. 

They stay in this position for a long time. Longer than is standard for when your friend is leaving the country, likely to return in a couple months. And really, what is distance when someone’s voice is available at the touch of a button? But Tanaka is acutely aware that in this moment, something is ending. He knows that Nishinoya can feel it too. 

Eventually Tanaka releases him. They settle against the wall again. It’s nearing midnight. Wiping an arm across his eyes, Tanaka clears his throat.

"Well if you’re not gonna stay, can you at least look at the stars with me?" Tanaka asks. Nishinoya is a silent for a moment before he nods.

"Sure," he says. "I can do that."

So instead of paying attention to the dancing figures around them, they stretch out onto the grass. They look at the stars. 

“In a closed room

pass over 2 hours 

in silence

(They may do anything but speak.)”