Archive of Our Own

1.

Half asleep, Komori Motoya felt there was sunshine on his face, golden yellow, with a little heat, spread to form a patch of pink covering his eyes.
I forgot to close the curtains again last night... Komori Motoya put his hands over his eyes and slowly opened them- anyway the weather was fine.
He found that this was not his bed.
His bed was against the wall, a bed made of logs for children, which was gradually not suitable for his fast-growing height. He just suggested changing it, to his mother, just several days ago.
But this bed was larger, a double bed, made of dark black solid wood, with the head of it wrapped in hard leather. The bed sheet under his body was dark gray, while his bed sheet was just changed yesterday, warm colored, with patterns of Paddington Bear on it.
It was an unfamiliar environment. Komori Motoya thought, and the plots in the movies and novels he had seen before flooded into his mind. His heartbeat couldn't help but accelerated.
He quietly opened his eyes and warily observed the surroundings. When his eyes moved to the bedside cupboard, he was stunned.
There was a pile of picture books stacked over there, of large and small sizes, some in hardback and some in paperback. The colors of the covers and spines of the books were bright and beautiful, which was entirely different from the style of the room.
More importantly, Komori Motoya recognized that this was his book. The book in the middle with star stickers on its dark blue spine was a picture album of The Little Prince. On the penultimate shelf at his bedside.
He reached out to take the book on the top, opened the cover, and the title page read " Komori Motoya’s collection, April 2001".
"Motoya?"
Komori Motoya was taken aback. He closed the book with a slap. When he turned his head, he saw a young man with pitch-black eyes.
They were completely black without impurities, which made Komori Motoya think of his younger cousin Sakusa Kiyoomi. His eyes were the same black, like two pools of clear spring water when he was silent. Although the environment was entirely strange, his nervous mind relaxed a little when he made this association. However, his relaxation turned into surprise when he noticed that the man had the same black curly hair as Kiyoomi, and even the two black moles above his eyebrows were the same, besides the similarity of eyebrows and eyes.
"You are... Kiyoomi?"
When hearing this, the man's body stiffened for a moment, and his face, which Motoya thought would lack distinct emotions as in his memory, showed an expression seeming that he was doing his utmost to endure a certain kind of pain. He propped his elbow between them, supported himself and leaned towards Komori Motoya.
The man seemed way too haggard, with sparse stubble on his cheeks. His face was so pale that even his lips were a little grayish light red, looking very dry, trembling slightly at this time. His eyes were full of fine red blood streak. He had just woken up from bed, but as if he hadn't slept well for a long time. Black bangs hung down, too long, covering part of his tightly frowned eyebrows, almost falling into his eyes that were opened wide. But he refused to blink.
He stared at Komori Motoya in silence. The look in his eyes was too complex for him to understand, like amazement, also pleasant surprise, with a bit of disbelief... But these were like billowing waves on the sea, disappearing in a twinkle, and finally submerged in deep sorrow which was like thick fog.
Komori Motoya recalled the scene when he decided to accost Sakusa. At that time, Sakusa brushed past him in the corridor, looking somewhere he didn’t know silently with big and pitch-black eyes. Maybe the mood was different from that of the man in front of him at present, but with similar expectations, as if silently driving him to do something.
So, he turned, sat up and asked him softly, "what's the matter?"
The man also sat up. He looked away and said, "nothing."
He added, "I'm Sakusa Kiyoomi."
Komori Motoya opened his eyes wide, "but I just saw you yesterday. You obviously..."
He held out his hand to gesture and said, "about as tall as me."
The man was silent and stammered for a moment, as if looking for the right words. He seemed to have not spoken for too long. His voice was frighteningly hoarse, and he had to pause every few words, as if trying to get familiar with his voice at this time,
"Maybe... You and I are not in the same space-time... It's 2023 now. It’s my apartment here."
"2023?!" Komori Motoya stared with his eyes bigger, setting off his already small pupils even more like those of a frightened cat, "It’s only 2006 in the place I am from!"
"I'm 11, so you're... 27 now?"
"Uh huh."
"I don't quite understand what's going on." 27-year-old Sakusa seemed to find a little sense of speaking, "stay in the room for a while. I'll clean up and we’ll go downstairs for a meal later."
With the door closed, Komori Motoya fell into bed and stared at the ceiling blankly.
Time Leap! For him, this was a plot that could only appear on TV. Although he was still at the age of fantasy, and it was not that he had never dreamed of having super powers to shapeshift and beat monsters, leaping to 17 years later, and even meeting his younger cousin, made him a little overwhelmed.
"Maybe it’s just a joke?"
Komori Motoya recalled the look in the eyes of "Sakusa Kiyoomi" when he looking at him just now, and slowly shook his head. He didn't think it was in a play.

2.

The sound of walking and cleaning up came intermittently from outside the door. When Sakusa entered the door again, he was much neater than before. He had shaved and washed his face, and the red blood streak in his eyes faded. He had changed into black T-shirt and slacks, and his too long hair was gathered up and tied behind his head. It was just that there was some tiredness which was hard to hide on his face.
He handed Motoya a suit of clothes: "change into this first and I’ll take you to buy a new one later."
Komori Motoya tried it on and it just fitted. He wondered why there were clothes 11-year-old he could wear in Sakusa Kiyoomi's apartment.
The style of Sakusa's apartment was consistent with that of the bedroom where he woke up. It was mainly black, white, and gray, and the decoration style was also very simple. There was no excess decoration or furnishings. There was a room across from the bedroom. It should be a second bedroom. He went to the living room through the middle corridor, and Sakusa was sitting on the sofa waiting for him. He lowered his head, put his hands on his knees, with his fingers unconsciously tapping at each other. When he heard footsteps, he raised his head without much expression on his face.
It was not until they were about to go out that Sakusa found that there were no shoes that Komori Motoya could wear. He squatted in front of the shoe cabinet searching for a long time and found a pair of slippers he had bought before which was too small for him. However, it was still too big, clattering when he was walking on the road. Komori Motoya had to secretly look at him every two steps-10-year-old Sakusa had already begun to hate this kind of slovenly behavior.
But 27-year-old Sakusa didn't seem to care about it at all. He walked beside Komori Motoya, but his mind seemed to be somewhere else.
Komori reached out and touched his finger hanging down beside his body.
Sakusa was taken aback, stopped, and turned to look at him. Komori Motoya looked up at him, smiled and asked, "can you take my hand? I haven't been here before."
Sakusa became silent for a moment and gently held his outstretched hand.

3.

Sakusa and Komori Motoya stood in the empty street and gave each other a glance without saying anything.
"A quarter past six." Sakusa looked at the clock, "the shops haven’t been open yet."

4.

"Do you often eat like this?" Komori Motoya sat at the table and watched Sakusa put the frozen boxed meal into the microwave oven and set the heat and time according to the instructions on the cover methodically.
"Not often."
"... how tall are you now?"
"192 cm."
"So tall... Am I also this tall?"
"No, you are 180.3 cm."
Komori Motoya curled his lip and felt a little frustrated, "ah, what do you do now?"
"Professional volleyball player."
"Really?! professional... You're a player in V. League Division 1! What position you play?"
“Outside hitter.”
"How awesome..."
The microwave rang softly. Sakusa took out the boxed meal and gave it to Komori Motoya, and then put his own in.
"I'm starting to eat!" Komori Motoya nipped his chopsticks apart with a snap and casually stirred the sauce of curry beef with rice. After two mouthfuls, he raised his head and said, "What about me?"
Sakusa paused as he took a boxed meal from the microwave. "You're also playing volleyball... You're a libero."
"Libero... No wonder I think 180 cm a little short." Komori Motoya blinked, a bit confused, "but it seems a little too high for a libero. How am I playing?"
Sakusa was carefully mixing curry chicken breast and rice together. When he heard this, he stopped his hand, raised his head, looked straight at Komori Motoya, and said very, very seriously:
"You are the best libero in the whole Japan."
Sakusa Kiyoomi was the kind of person who had a strong sense of morality, rigorous and careful, whose personality was not bad but not gentle; he didn't talk much, and most of the time his words were unpleasant to hear; He seldom evaluated a person, even if he evaluated, the evaluation was not intended to praise or criticize, but mostly pertinent, careful and comprehensive, including both advantages and disadvantages, so methodical and well-balanced that it seemed that he had obsessive-compulsive disorder. In an interview with the TV station, he was asked to evaluate Miya Atsumu, a well-known setter who had been his teammate for many years. After positively confirming his technical level and professional quality, he said "just a little don't care about personal hygiene" when the reporter's asked "anything else".
According to Miya Osamu, the owner of Onigiri Miya, after seeing the report, Miya Atsumu called to Japan from Italy and scolded Sakusa for a whole hour to him.
However, the statement, "you are the best libero in the whole Japan", was so subjective. There are so many liberos in Japan. Even there are at least two liberos in the national team which represent the country's top level. It was suitable to say that each had its own merits, and it seemed more appropriate to say Japan's top level. But he didn't. He said "in the whole Japan" and "the best". Resolutely, without thinking or hesitation, he put him on the spire of millions of liberos.
At least to him.
11-year-old Komori Motoya did not realize the great significance of this comment.
For children, this extremely binary thinking is not uncommon. Good is the best and the first in the world; bad is the worst, the last. But he still felt excited - for a child who loved volleyball, what else could make him happier than knowing that he would take volleyball as a profession and become an outstanding person in this aspect in the future?
Komori looked at Sakusa with his eyes round. He was born a little cute. At the age of 11, his eyes were rounder and bigger and loved to laugh more, compared with those of him as an adult. The dark blueish gray showed a somewhat contradictory chill, just like the moon thousands of years ago that was closer to us than that of this century.
Komori Motoya sat facing the window. At 6:30 in the morning, the soft white lissome sunlight fell into his grayish blue iris, and the clouds cleared in an instant. Sakusa remembered that after graduating from high school, Komori Motoya took him to attain a motorcycle license. On the first day he got the license, he dragged him to ride across most of Tokyo to Tokyo Bay to watch the sunrise. The moment the morning sun completely jumped out of the sea, the light was shining. The vast, boundless, and quiet dark blueish gray sea became glitteringly and sparklingly bright in a moment.
"I will practice harder!" Komori Motoya clenched his left hand into a fist and waved it hard.
"Eat well first." Sakusa lowered his head and continued to fiddle with rice with chopsticks.

5.

Komori Motoya ate in a gentle and meticulous way, but was not slow. He caught a glimpse of Sakusa picking out the carrots in the rice piece by piece and said loudly why as an athlete he was as choosy about food as when he was a young child.
Sakusa was stunned for a moment. He looked at him, about to speak, but stopped. He couldn't restrain himself, and began to laugh.
"Why do you care so much? I'm already an adult."
"But aren't you my younger cousin?" Komori Motoya asked him in reply, "aren't you my younger cousin when you are 27? Should adults be picky about food?"
Sakusa looked at him strangely, and finally put the carrots back into the rice. He said that it was not that he didn't eat carrots, but he didn't like those in the curry.

6.

"What do you think of this, sir?"
Sakusa had a look, "what do you think?"
Komori Motoya couldn't hide his fatigue on his face, "I think it almost OK."
The two were choosing clothes and shoes in the mall at present. 11-year-old Komori Motoya’s age was between childhood and teen. He gradually looked a little like a teenager, but still with some childishness, lively and lovely. As soon as arriving at the store, he was surrounded by shopping guides. He hadn't bought his clothes yet, but his face had been touched several times. Sakusa was left aside for a long time. It was not until a while later that a shopping guide asked him, “sir, what do you want to buy for your son?”
Sakusa was watching Komori Motoya's predicament, with a little gloating look. When he heard the question, he became gloomy again. He looked at Komori Motoya, and finally didn't bother to deny the clerk's mistake. He said to pick out some clothes and shoes for him.
In this way, it was convenient for him, but it made Komori Motoya suffer. Being regarded as a real-person Barbie doll by the shopping guides, he wasn't like Sakusa Kiyoomi who would give an unpleasant look as long as only slightly unhappy, so he had to be at the mercy of them. After many times he had changed into several suits of clothes. But to Sakusa Kiyoomi, there was little difference. Whatever he changed into, he all said yes and to pack them.
When paying their bill in the end, both were dumbfounded – it was not that they couldn’t afford the clothes, but it was because the clothes were too many to carry. Finally, they discussed and decided to deposit them in the store first, and then came to fetch them when they were leaving.
Komori Motoya walked in the mall grabbing Sakusa's hand. Although it had only been a few hours, Sakusa seemed to be used to this action.
"Do you always live in Osaka now?"
"I usually live in Hirakata, because the club is there. I don't often live here in Osaka. It's used to put some sundries."
"I see!"
"What do you know?"
"Because you don't live here often, the house looks messy, and there's no food in the fridge." Komori Motoya bent his fingers one by one. "That's why there are my picture books and my childhood clothes... No, why are these here?"
Sakusa took a profound look at him and moved it away, "you deposited them here in the past."
"Oh." Komori Motoya replied and turned to shops by the road, "I want to eat ice cream, Kiyoomi."

7.

"Double-ball ice cream, one ball Matcha and one vanilla." Sakusa turned back and asked Motoya, "anything else?"
"Well..." Motoya stared at the price list, "waffles?
"Waffles." Sakusa told the clerk.

8.

Komori Motoya slapped the tray down on the table, took a waffle with a fork, dipped it in the ice cream and took a big bite. The newly baked waffles were crisp and soft on the outside, and mild and dense on the inside, hot, but the ice cream was cold and sweet, which had an abundant taste when mixed. Komori Motoya had always liked to eat like this, but although his mother cared for him, she restricted him from eating sweets, saying that he should take care of his teeth. This eating method of mixing the cold and the hot was even prohibited. She would never agree so straightforward as Sakusa did.
"That's so nice..." Komori Motoya sighed unclearly with a bulging cheek, "in this way I even don't quite want to go back..."
Sakusa was sitting across from him propping his chin and silently watching him eat. When he heard this, his eyes widened and asked in surprise, "how do you know you can go back?"
Komori Motoya scooped up a spoonful of ice cream and put it in his mouth. After swallowing it, he looked at him and said, "isn't that always so on TV?"
“However, I still have to go back, otherwise how can I be the top libero in the country?” He finished his last waffle. “Besides, I have invited you to play volleyball with me tomorrow.”
Sakusa looked quietly at Komori Motoya beaming with joy. As always, he wore a mask with his black bangs hanging down. He couldn't see expression in his eyes clearly and didn't know what he was thinking.

9.

“Is it for real that I can go to the training venue of MSBY?” Komori Motoya subconsciously clenched Sakusa's hand tight and said excitedly and hesitantly.
“Aren't you coming yourself?” Sakusa asked him back.
Not knowing why, Komori Motoya found that when Sakusa said this, his fingers clenched slightly, and there was some sticky sweat in their palms pressing each other close. The 27-year-old Sakusa seemed to enjoy being neat and tidy more than he had known, but now he didn't seem to realize it.

10.

According to Sakusa, he was on vacation these days, and at ordinary times, the training of his teammates had already begun. Therefore, they didn't meet anyone on the way from the locker room to the training venue.
When they walked into the venue, most people were training and didn't notice them. There was a boy with orange hair sitting on a chair beside the court drinking water. Another one with blond curly hair was talking to him. The two moved their sights to them at the same time.
The orange haired stood up immediately, "Omi-san, why are you here? Aren’t you... Hmmm...” The golden haired covered his mouth. Komori Motoya found himself being looked at by him.
“Omi, this is?” Miya Atsumu pointed to Komori Motoya and asked Sakusa.
Very obviously, Komori Motoya found Sakusa frowned tightly.
“He's Komori...” Sakusa looked at Komori Motoya and paused for a moment. "Motoya's nephew."
“Just call me Ko-chan.” Komori Motoya answered, smiling, and waving to Miya Atsumu.
“Wow, little Komori!” Another player came up, his gray and white hair exaggeratedly done up into two spiky clusters, and his golden pupils glittering.
At this moment, more and more people gathered around, but they seemed a little restrained. They looked at each other, looked at Komori Motoya, and looked at Sakusa Kiyoomi. No one spoke. Komori Motoya felt dizzy. Volleyball players were generally over 185 cm, and Komori Motoya only felt that the light was completely blocked and the air was rarefied. He pulled Sakusa's hand, and Sakusa looked at him and said, “it's okay. You can train by yourselves.”
Sakusa asked Komori Motoya to sit on the stool. He talked to a middle-aged man from a distance. He came over and said to Komori, “since you're here, play volleyball for a while. I'll take you to the court over there.”

11.

Komori Motoya easily received a ball. The standard a pass, No.1 libero's commendable accurate stepping position and force unloading skills have begun to take shape.
“Haven't you made progress in more than ten years? How can I receive your ball now?” He laughed and said to Sakusa, his light chestnut hair wet with sweat pasted on the side of his face, which flew when he looked up.
Sakusa frowned slightly, said nothing, and served another ball. Not unexpectedly, Komori Motoya tried to receive but the ball ricocheted, flying until getting to the nearby court.
“Don’t be too ignorant of my favor.” He took the ball from another teammate, nodded as a thank-you, came over and patted Komori Motoya's head like patting a volleyball, "go back."

12.

"You apply this first and apply it again." Sakusa threw a tube of ointment to Komori Motoya, "we sometimes apply this when the competition intensity is too large."
Komori Motoya put the ointment in front of him and looked carefully at the instructions. Sakusa sighed, came over and sat beside him, carefully wiped Komori Motoya's two arms clean with a towel stained with water.
The 11-year-old boy's arms were still young and tender. Although Sakusa Kiyoomi deliberately controlled the power of his serve, he was a famous outside hitter on the world stage after all. The inner side of Komori Motoya's two arms were congested and red, which looked a little scary.
Sakusa squeezed the ointment into his hand and wiped it along Komori Motoya's arms. In order to make the application of the ointment convenient, he knelt on one knee, facing Komori Motoya, and wiped it very carefully along his forearm muscles.
“Isn't the ground dirty?” Komori gently fiddled with Sakusa's bangs. Black, soft, curled, tough hair seemed to beat when pinched in his hands. Komori Motoya liked to touch Sakusa's hair. Thinking of this child who always looked unhappy, whose hair was unexpectedly soft, his heart can't help softening.
Sakusa paused for a moment, reached out to grab down Komori's hands touching his hair. He didn't look up, “wipe it carefully like this. Anyway, you have to take a bath when you go home.”

13.

When the two were about to leave, Hinata Shoyo ran to them, “Omi-san, would you like to join in a practice match?”
“I just...” Sakusa subconsciously wanted to refuse, but Komori Motoya pulled his hand, "I want to watch.”
“... yes.”

14.

Because of the high level of players, team practice match of MSBY was virtually like the world match in momentum, with the ball coming and going between two sides, which was very wonderful. Komori Motoya sat by the court, applauding at the beginning, but then he sat quietly after his hands were clapped to red. His cat-like eyes stared round and didn't want to miss any moment. After all, he had never seen such a high-level game so close. Sakusa was not serious at all when playing volleyball with him before. Even the last ball, he gave little play to his strength. When he really came into the match, the angle of each serve was very tricky. Even though the power was not as much as that of canon players, the rotation of the ball was still very difficult without proper resolution.
At the end of the last round, an outside aid canon player on the team performed steady, accurate, and relentless spike. The libero on the other side didn't position in time and didn't receive the ball at the proper angle. The ball flew out obliquely - directly at Komori Motoya.
Shocked, Komori Motoya immediately fell to his stomach on the bench and the ball flew over him. Not having recovered from a fright yet, he sat up and patted his chest - if the ball had hit him right just now, probably he would have to go to hospital.
He looked back at the court, but found that everyone looking at Sakusa. Sakusa wore a very unpleasant look, but not completely panic. He looked a little overwhelmed, as if it was he that tried to receive the ball when it ricocheted. Miya Atsumu frowned and turned his face away; Hinata’s smile also disappeared, and he lowered his head silently; Bokuto Kotaro came up to him and wanted to pat him on the shoulder. There was an atmosphere of embarrassment filling the air.
“What's the matter?” Komori Motoya ran to Sakusa, looked up at him and began to recall what had just happened. He remembered there seemed to be someone who shouted his name, but shouted “Motoya”.
Embarrassed by a slip of the tongue? It was really something his younger cousin would do, but others seemed to overreact. Without much thought, Komori Motoya smiled and said, "it's just calling the wrong name. Maybe I look too similar to Uncle Motoya. Many people have told me."
Sakusa's teammates were stunned when hearing this, and began to laugh instead. The atmosphere was relaxed immediately, but it was still strange. Someone smiled and said, “really similar, even talking similar.”
But Sakusa don’t seemed to be in a good mood. He didn't continue the rest of the match and dragged Komori Motoya to leave.

15.

In the evening, the two went to the supermarket to buy some foods.
When Sakusa was cooking, Komori Motoya rummaged the refrigerator and found that it was almost empty.
“You really seldom come to live here.” He said to Sakusa, “but it’s still kept quite clean.”
Sakusa was frying the salmon in the pan. He glanced at Komori Motoya, “I hire a part-time to clean it up regularly.”
“It smells good.” Komori Motoya looked into the pan. The orange salmon was sizzling. "Your spike is so amazing. The path of the ball is so tricky, and the tall and big one in your team..." he gestured, "will your arm be injured if you insistently try to receive his ball?"
Sakusa turned over the salmon without lifting his eyes, "these are the balls you can receive."

16.

After dinner, Komori Motoya sat at the table, browsing the volleyball videos in Sakusa's tablet. Sakusa was washing the dishes.
“I think you are completely different now from when you were a child.”
“What do you mean?”
“You've become more caring and much gentler. Who taught you this?” Komori Motoya raised his head and stared at Sakusa's back. It had been a day since morning, but he still felt as if he was dreaming. It seemed that up to now, he hadn’t yet been fully convinced that the man in front of him who looked very similar to his younger cousin was what his cousin would be like in the future. He recalled 10-year-old Sakusa, who was silent and childish, who even he couldn't say was good-natured, who was always like a sharp gem that would cut people if they took a look, although smart and talented. The person in front of him was too gentle, who didn’t look cold when not smiling, but with more sorrow. Just as diamonds turn into water, even though they both have multicolored light and shade, everyone knows that they are completely different.
“It's you.” Sakusa's reply stunned him, "Motoya, it's you. It’s you that taught me how to treat others gently. If I have really become better and gentler than before, it must be your credit."
Sakusa spoke it out slowly, very slowly. Every word seemed to be considered at the tip of his tongue for a long time. He said it determinedly, firmly, and unquestionably, as if it was an Truth, which he had been reading silently deep down for many years.
Komori Motoya didn't know what to say now. He was only 11 years old. No matter how precocious he was, he was still a child. He didn't think he could bring much impact on other people's lives. He was grateful to Sakusa for his recognition. At the same time, he felt it a pity that softening the edge would inevitably make him bump. He didn't want him to feel pain. If he were around Sakusa, he would certainly hope that Kiyoomi could avoid all the sorrow Komori Motoya was able to keep him away from, never compromise, and grow peacefully without restraint. But it seemed that something had gone wrong. The 27-year-old Kiyoomi always seemed depressed in the face of him, as if he was enduring great pain. He began to speak and then hesitated. Finally, he only granted all his requests.
So, he shouldn't ask, and unable to ask.
Komori Motoya looked at Sakusa standing at the table. The distance between the two was only a little, which he could cross by taking two steps, and Sakusa one step, but he felt it very far.
Silence, dead silence. Eventually, Komori Motoya spoke first, “Kiyoomi, can you find out the videos of my match? I want to watch them.”

17.

The two sat on the sofa. Sakusa opened a file folder with facility, in which was a series of videos arranged in chronological order. Each of them carefully marked both sides of the match. He swiped to the bottom and opened a collection for Komori Motoya to watch.
It was undoubtedly a wonderful thing to see himself 17 years later through the videos. The 28-year-old Komori Motoya was one of the top liberos in Japan. He was even more popular than ordinary outside hitters. Komori Motoya watched the 28-year-old himself dig the balls that he thought were almost impossible to dig. He couldn't help feeling full of excitement when he heard the praise of the commentator and the thundering cheers when the scene was cut to pause. In fact, he was disappointed when he first heard that he would be a libero in the future. At the age of 11, he wanted to be an opposite hitter on the team and hoped to finish the whole game. Liberos don't play in every round, which made him a little unwilling. But at this time, he looked at the 28-year-old Komori Motoya in high spirits on the screen, and couldn't help but stretch out his fingers to gently trace the outline of his figure raising his hands to greet the outside, and couldn't help looking forward to the stage in the future.

18.

When Komori Motoya remembered himself, he found there was no Sakusa in his vision.
Having walked around, he found the toilet door left unlocked. He approached and heard low sob.
He propped his palm on the door and opened it with a gentle push. Sakusa in front of the washbasin suddenly turned around when he heard the sound. His eyes were red. He was a little flustered when he saw Komori Motoya. He opened his mouth to explain, but didn't say anything. Finally, he turned his back to him. Komori Motoya could only see his tightly pursed lips through the mirror.
He walked over in silence and, like many times before, pulled Sakusa's hand hanging beside him. From the visual angle of Sakusa, the eyes of Komori Motoya, who looked up, were like two grayish blue moons reflected in the water, limpid and bright.
Sakusa seemed to be pricked by the eyes, but also seemed to be comforted. He fell to sit on the ground like breakdown, stretched out his hand and tightly held Komori Motoya in his arms. He didn't say anything, but wept silently. Komori Motoya could feel that the clothes covering his shoulders gradually became wet, and then it wound its way to his back and chest. He didn't try to say anything. He just hugged Sakusa in the same posture. The adult man's body was too broad for him, and his arms could not surround it. He could only gently pat his back, like stream water gently beating the banks of the mountain.
He was only 11, and Sakusa was already 27. 27-year-old Sakusa's sadness was not what 11-year-old Komori Motoya could understand. Then would he, the one at present, the 28-year-old Komori Motoya, understand? Komori Motoya reached out and touched Sakusa's hair. His hair was too long. Now it fell loose, piling on his shoulders and back neck, dark and thick like tranquil Tokyo Bay at night. His fingers went through it like wading in water. Komori Motoya's hands were warm, and Sakusa's scalp seemed as cold as soaked in the water, and the subtle tremor spread between them like ripples.
Komori Motoya leaned back slightly, his palm slipped down and lifted Sakusa's face,
“Kiyoomi quarreled with me? We don’t contact anymore?”
Sakusa's slightly stretched eyebrows frowned again. He wanted to turn his face away. Finally, he looked away, his low voice still with sob, trembling slightly when talking, as if he did his best to say every word, "indeed, we haven't met each other for a long time."
“Kiyoomi, do you miss me, want to make peace, but feel afraid?” Komori Motoya looked at him with some pity. Sakusa at this moment coincided with that in his memory, not straightforward, ornery and contradictory, just like a child, which was rare.
He reached out and gently wiped away the tears in the corners of his pitch-black eyes. When his fingers touched his skin, Sakusa's eyes blinked evasively. The wet eyelashes took a sweep on Motoya's fingernail, leaving a trace of tears.
“It doesn't matter. I won't be angry with Kiyoomi.” Komori Motoya got closer. He saw himself in the eyes of Kiyoomi – cat-like eyes smiling, thick short eyebrows relaxed, without any grudge, unthinkingly, "although people will change, I believe that Komori Motoya loves Kiyoomi no matter when. He loves at the age of 11, and also at the age of 28."
“If you, Kiyoomi, miss me, just tell me. If it's because of my fault, please say it directly; or if in fact, you think it’s your fault, but don't want to admit, it doesn't matter to say it’s my fault.”
“Don't be sad any more. I won't blame you.”
Sakusa looked away, with his throat rolled, the corners of his mouth trembled, and the repressed sobs overflowed from his nasal cavity and closed lips.
Komori Motoya recalled how his mother comforted him. He gently rubbed Sakusa's frontal eminence, and stroked his forehead hair apart wisp by wisp, whispering, “it’s all right. Don't be sad. I'm here.”
Then, very, very lightly, he kissed Sakusa in the middle of his forehead.

19.

Komori Motoya stood in front of the mirror, changed into his pajamas. Sakusa was standing behind him wiping his hair. His eyes were still red and the corners of his mouth curled down. He was more refusing to accept as final than sad. He forgot himself in front of a child and had to be comforted, which embarrassed him. So, he wiped his hair harder and harder, and Komori Motoya couldn't help shouting, “that’s enough! That’s enough! My hair will be rubbed off!”
“It's easier to dry it with a hair dryer after wiping it almost dry.” Sakusa was unmoved.
“Then tell me a story later.”
“Is there a causal relationship between them?”

20.

“Read this one!”
Komori Motoya slapped the book on Sakusa's lap.
“Don't always get sudden surprised so easily.” Sakusa frowned and took the book, and Motoya leaned against him at his convenience. Sakusa glanced at him, stretched out his hand and tugged a handful of hair on his head, “why didn't I find that you liked to behave in a spoiled manner so much when we were children?”
“What are you talking about? I'm your elder cousin.” Motoya slapped him on the arm and covered his hand, “ah, it's so hard.”
Sakusa's let out a gentle laugh from his throat. Under the warm yellow light of the bedside lamp, his eyebrows and eyes looked a little lethargic. Even the cold and hard facial lines became soft, like a page of a book unfolded in the morning light.
He opened the book and began to read it with clear articulation.
The story was not long, plain and ordinary. It was like a laundry list written in watercolor paintings. It was only written about a few plants and birds, starting with sunrise, and ending with the moonset.
“Thereupon, they fell asleep at this point on this rainy night.”
Sakusa closed the book, and Komori Motoya was already asleep. A 11-year-old teenager was not as strong as an adult after all, and Motoya had always been relatively thin. Therefore, in 27-year-old Sakusa’s eyes, 11-year-old Motoya was indeed too thin.
He leaned over, held Motoya's shoulder and gently laid him flat. The muscles on the shoulders under his palms were not as strong as in adulthood, but they had been robust from exercising all year round. As if feeling itchy, and also as if dreaming of something interesting, his throat gave out a few grunts of laughter, soft like the wind blowing in the drizzle, gentle and wet.
Sakusa looked out of the window. It was clear today. It was neither as rainy as in the story, nor as windy as Motoya's smile. The moon was bright and round, full of white, as if to illuminate the whole world.
He lowered his eyes. Komori Motoya's face showed transparent white in the moonlight, as if a thin and fragile shell wrapped him and the soul inside was liquid and weightless. Even the shadow cast by Sakusa on him seemed too heavy, as if about to pass through his body and sink like that.
Sakusa Kiyoomi put his hand on Komori Motoya's forehead. After falling asleep, Komori Motoya’s temperature dropped, and his skin was as cool as warm water. Perhaps because of feeling the temperature on his forehead too high, he frowned unhappily in his sleep. His short thick eyebrows swept Sakusa's palm, bringing up an itch like electric shock.
He took his hand back.
Then he leaned down. His tilting body was gentle; frowned eyebrows and half-closed eyes were hesitant; the thick black shadow cast by curly hair and long eyelashes was like endless silence, elongated along the tracks of tears, and finally stopped at the corners of trembling lips.
Sakusa kissed Komori Motoya on his forehead. The shadow broke through the barrier, flowed to Komori Motoya's face, and melted into the shadow cast by Sakusa.
Motoya, who was close at hand, was completely shrouded in his shadow. He slept peacefully, with his chest and abdomen fluctuating slightly, and a small smile appeared on his face.
Sakusa moved his lips. If Komori Motoya was still awake, he would know that the mouth shape was a call. He was saying——
“Motoya.”

21.

“Are you going to accompany me today?” with a toothbrush in his mouth, Komori Motoya said unclearly. When he said the last few words, several bubbles floated out of his mouth.
Sakusa was doing his hair in the mirror, looking steadily forward, and said, “I'm still on vacation. Is there anywhere you’d like to go?”
“I thought you were sick,” Komori Motoya spat out a mouthful of froth. “But obviously you can play in the game.”
Sakusa's hand tying up his hair paused, and his fingers pulled too long, and the rubber band was shot to his hand with a snap. He moved his hand before himself and looked at the fingertips shot red by the rubber band.
“... there are other reasons.” he didn't want to answer, but couldn't bear not to answer, seeming perfunctory, but with difficulties hard to say. Komori Motoya was gargling, with his cheeks bulging like a volleyball, and in the air, there was only the sound of gurgling water. He looked down and spat out the water. He found that Sakusa had already left the bathroom.

22.

"I want to go to Kamakura." Komori Motoya drank the milk in one mouthful, stretched out his tongue and licked the milk stains on his upper lip, but there was still a little white left, like an ellipsis, a little bit like a kitten's whiskers.
"Kamakura?" Sakusa looked up, looking doubtful, "why?"
His question was reasonable, because Kamakura is around Tokyo. It takes only two hours for the tram to and from Kamakura. When they were children, they went to Kamakura for family gatherings or to pray for blessings on festivals. It could be said that for them, whether Tsurugaoka Hachimangu Shrine, Hasedera Temple, or Kamakura five temples and roads on Syounan Coast, was a common landscape. Komori Motoya leapt here, theoretically, he was an unregistered resident and couldn't take a plane. However, there is no through tram from Osaka to Kamakura. They had to take shinkansen from Osaka to Odawara, transfer to JR Tokaido Main Line to oobune, and then transfer to JR Yokosuka Line to Kamakura. Even for a simpler route, they had to take Shinkansen to Shinakawa and transfer to JR Yokosuka Line to Kamakura. No matter how they went, it would take nearly three hours.
"Can't we go there?"
"No, it's just too inconvenient. And I thought you'd want to go somewhere you've never been."
"It’s just because I've been there many times," Komori Motoya looked directly into his eyes, "that I want to know what Kamakura is like now."
So Sakusa Kiyoomi obeyed his request as before. He booked tickets and prepared things for travel - masks, disinfectant, wet facial tissue, clean water, and several packets of biscuits that could fill their stomachs. Although Komori Motoya shouted real men didn't need such things, he was pulled by Sakusa to apply sunscreen.

23.

"It's so sticky." When Komori Motoya went out, he was still pulling on his face, making a grimace, and staring at Sakusa severely, "I have said no."
“You said you were going to see hydrangeas in the temple, and going to Syounan. We will be outdoors mostly.” Sakusa looked down at him from a height, "it's June now."
Komori Motoya rolled his eyes and grabbed Sakusa's hand even harder.

24.

The road from Osaka to Kamakura is really long. The journey on the tram was not bumpy, but it was dull. Few people take the tram during working hours. The carriage of non-reserved seats was much more spacious than that of reserved seats. There are only two people in such a large carriage, he and Sakusa. When Komori Motoya just got on the tram, he looked out of the window. The landscape from the city to the suburbs and then to the countryside was also interesting, but the more than two-hour ride was too long and Komori Motoya was a little tired--He was not the spoiled kind of child. He practiced the violin, standing for the whole two or three hours. In addition, he later played volleyball. Just sitting in the tram was not consumption at all. But somehow, since yesterday morning, he had found that he was easy to feel sleepy, and he felt that he seemed to become more emotional. Whether making requests, or giving an unpleasant look angrily, he would never do in normal times, but still did. At ordinary times, he probably felt a little worried, but in the face of 27-year-old Sakusa, he just felt at ease.
In the tram running slowly and stably, Komori Motoya's thoughts gradually became lethargic, with his dreams penetrating into his consciousness, like milky white milk dripping into a glass of clear water. He heard the tram running on the track, and the sound of the friction between the wheels and the track was like a light gray thin line, translucent, shining like almost disappearing in consciousness. It seemed rainy, neither like a mist-like drizzle, nor like a waterfall-like rainstorm. Drop by drop, round and clear rain fell on the window. He heard the wind, heard the station names announced by the electronic voice of the carriage, and heard an almost inaudible sigh mixed with the wind.

25.

When Komori Motoya woke up, he was on the JR Yokosuka Line from Shinakawa to Kamakura. Sakusa sat beside him. Probably it was because he was too tired or the railing was disinfected, he propped one hand on the railing next to his seat, supporting his head, resting with his eyes closed. When Komori touched his hand, he immediately opened his eyes.
Sakusa seemed to be in passible spirits, but his eyebrows habitually tended to wrinkle. When he spoke, his voice became hoarse, but he soon recovered,
"Awake?"
" Uh-huh... We have transferred?"
"Yes, you didn't wake up when we transferred." Sakusa reached out and rubbed the center of his forehead, looked at the electronic display screen in the carriage, "We are arriving. Get ready to get off."

26.

June to August is called the hydrangea flowering season. When it comes to hydrangea in Kamakura, it's easy to think of Meigetsu-in Temple, known as the hydrangea temple. But in fact, the temples with hydrangeas in Kamakura don’t only includes Meigetsu-in Temple. The hydrangeas mentioned by Komori Motoya to Sakusa are also in a temple in Kamakura, but it is remote and small, not as famous as Kamakura five temples.
The abbot of the temple and the Sakusa family had friendship spanning two or more generations, and his contacts with the Komori family also increased. When they were children, they would stay in the temple for a period of time during the winter and summer holidays, with their routines entirely different from those of the monks in the temple, Sweeping the courtyard, praying to Buddha and copying scriptures were not to convert, but just to temper their disposition. Sakusa Kiyoomi had no objection to this. His personality was quiet, his handwriting was good, and he could finish copying the Buddhist scriptures. It was just that Komori Motoya was not very comfortable. As a child, he loved to play, but the temple of Buddhism was quiet and he shouldn’t make noise, and his family didn't allow him to bring a PSP. He has a fixed schedule, followed the rules, and could finished despite suffering patiently and silently, but it was just boring.
There are not only hydrangeas in the temple, but also hibiscuses, monthly roses, camellias and so on. There are flowering plants in almost every season of the year, but hydrangeas blossom the best in the temple during the summer vacation.
There aren’t many Meigetsu-in Temple Blue flowers which are the most famous in Meigetsu-in Temple here. Most are red and purple hydrangeas, mixed with several blue ones. They used to think it was because of their species. Only after learning biology in high school did they know it was because of the acidity and alkalinity of the soil. That most are purple and red indicates that the soil here is alkaline. Sakusa told Komori Motoya that some people advised the abbot to turn hydrangeas blue, that is, artificially change the acidity and alkalinity of the soil to make hydrangeas bloom blue flowers. However, the abbot said that things should conform to their nature, that naturally blooming red or purple flowers also looked beautiful, and that it was OK if they turned blue, but we shouldn’t foist human wish on things.
"I understand what the abbot meant." Komori Motoya propped his hands on the edge of the flower bed, leaned forward, and got the tip of his nose closer to a mauve hydrangea. But the hydrangea had no fragrance. He only touched the remaining rain water with his nose.
He straightened up himself and wiped it, didn’t mind at all, "’to turn hydrangeas blue’, such desire to get or change is also a kind of obsession? Obsession, whether big or small, will hinder the clarity of the state of mind after all."
Komori Motoya stuck out his tongue and smiled at Sakusa, "’all sentient beings have the wisdom and virtue of Buddha, but they can't experience the results of practicing Buddhism because of their delusion and obsession.’ right? "
Sakusa stood a few steps behind him, a little far from the flower bed in front of Komori Motoya, but there was also a cluster of flourishing hydrangeas behind him, red and purple, like a lively blaze. Sakusa, with black hair and black eyes, stood there, in a black shirt, with his hands in his trouser pockets, and the hue was so single that he seemed detached from anything. Komori Motoya felt that even if he left immediately, leaving before the flowers, he would not take away any bright colors, and the flowers were still flourishing by themselves and would not leave the mark of his standing.
How lonely, he thought. He went over, took Sakusa's hand, smiled and said, “don't you praise me? I still remember the Buddhist scriptures I copied.”
Sakusa looked eased up a little. He raised his hand and put it on the top of Komori Motoya's hair. He rubbed it gently and didn't speak.

27.

Because Komori Motoya wanted to go to Syounan, they didn't take the famous Enoshima Dentetsu Line in Kamakura. Sakusa rented a motorcycle and the two drove along the road to the coast of Kanagawa. Finally, they stopped at a restaurant at the seaside and had some fish dishes for dinner. The butter buns presented by that restaurant tasted good. After eating, Komori Motoya asked for another one.
Towards evening, the sun began to set, hanging on the edge of the distant sky clouds, with soft light. The restaurant began to light up, and the light of the small table lamp on the table was warm yellow, so Komori Motoya's fingers, Komori Motoya's lips and Komori Motoya's light chestnut hair were plated with a layer of warm yellow halation, like the butter bun in his hand.
When Sakusa drew out a paper towel to wipe his mouth for him, the landlady came to compute the bill and told them that if they walked along the coastline for a while, they could see Mount Fuji when the weather was good.
Thereupon they walked along the coastline. The beach when the tide ebbed showed a dark brown completely different from the dry fine sand. Komori Motoya stepped on the dividing line barefoot and walked towards the sunset in the distance. Sakusa cautiously stepped on the dry sand and was careful not to let the sand fall into his shoes.
"Kiyoomi!" Komori Motoya stood in front of a reef, turned around and looked surprised and pleased, "I see it!"
He ran up and dragged Sakusa to where he just stood, pointing to the distance.
"It's Mount Fuji!"
Not knowing whether Komori Motoya dragged him towards Mount Fuji, or whether Mount Fuji was pushed to him by Komori Motoya, Sakusa saw the distant horizon, saw the horizon dyed pink and orange by the sunset, and saw Mount Fuji under the sky. He was in Tokyo when he was a child and Osaka when he was an adult. In usual residence, except in high places or other extreme situations, he could not see Mount Fuji. Only when the team went out to Shizuoka and its peripheral regions would he see the scenery of Mount Fuji. It was either too far or too near, and it had never been like this time when although it seemed to be in the sky, it also seemed to be at the end of the long beach, as if he could arrive as long as he went forward.
His hand on his side felt pulled, and when he looked down, he looked into the eyes of Komori Motoya. Behind him, beneath the reef, was the waves, with white froths, and the deep blue waves reflected his blueish gray eyes, and thereupon the blue was deeper, purer, and chillier.
Komori Motoya wasn't laughing. He looked very calm, slightly narrowed his eyes, looking towards Sakusa's eyes.
“Kiyoomi,” he said, “where am I, the one nowadays?”
"I, the one nowadays" referred to the 28-year-old Komori Motoya. 11-year-old Komori Motoya knew, and so did 27-year-old Sakusa. The smile on his face disappeared the instant he heard the question, like a froth washed up onto the reef by the waves. He opened his mouth to say something, but as if seized by the throat. His fingertips in Komori Motoya’s hand were sweating, and he pulled back his hand in a panic.
"You are... playing volleyball in Hiroshima."
Komori Motoya's face showed a sympathetic expression. He tilted his head and looked at Sakusa from an inclined angle, but still couldn't offset the shaky feeling he brought him. The 11-year-old frowned, his innocent and pure face showed adult-like sadness, and his words were like a trial.
"I have already died, right?"
He announced his death.
When he was in the temple, he and Sakusa had got separated for a few minutes. He lost his way to a place like a cemetery - in fact, it was not deserted, and even beautifully decorated with flowers and trees. But as soon as he set foot, he felt something wrong - there were a lot of dead people in this place. Cremains were stored in the tower set off by flowers, and there were new and old tombstones in the gaps of bushes. He walked past one by one, and saw life stories one by one, long or short or none. He was still young, and death was very far away for him, so far away that it was only a word, not enough to arouse his fear. But he kept feeling apprehensively uneasy inside, like seized by the throat by an invisible hand.
Then he saw himself.
To be exact, that was the 28-year-old Komori Motoya, in a black-and-white photo embedded on the tombstone, smiling gently.

28.

Sakusa's looked visibly sinking into gloom. For an instant, Komori Motoya thought of the dried-up kelp washed up onto the beach, which made a dry sound of fragmentation when stepped on.
They sat down. There were many benches on the shore. They looked at the sea respectively and wanted to say something.
It was already sunset. The sun was setting, and deep blue spread towards here from the west, leaving only a little warm-colored brilliance in the east.
Dusk is also called the time of seeing divinities. When it is about dusk but still not, the morning and the dusk are reversed, and the sun setting can also be seen as rising from the horizon. In these short minutes, the boundary between life and death is no longer clear. People can see elves, divinities, and their deceased lovers who return to life but have changed beyond recognition.
It was Sakusa that spoke first. His tone was very calm, even with a bit of mercilessness, as if it didn’t concern himself personally.
He told Komori Motoya that the 28-year-old he died a month ago in a traffic accident on the way back to the club from the airport. Before death, Komori Motoya told him that he was safe, on the phone. The last sentence was that he was a little dizzy, and would call him when he got to the dormitory.
But the next call to him was to inform him that Komori Motoya was being rescued in hospital.
When he arrived at the hospital, the doctor had just announced Komori Motoya's death. At the other end of the corridor, he heard a heart-rending cry, and then saw Komori Motoya's mother kneeling on the ground. When he came forward to help her up, he saw a bed covered with white cloth pushed out, and there seemed to be an electronic sound like a rope suddenly stretched straight in his memory - it was later proved to be an illusion, because at that time, the operating room had been powered off, all instruments had stopped working, and Komori Motoya's death was not in progress, but an accomplished fact.
Aunt Komori cried until she had no strength, and Uncle looked much older. The funeral was almost organized by Sakusa and his mother. But if it was to say that his mother was trying to contain her grief, then Sakusa seemed too calm.
When they were selecting his funeral portrait, because no one expected the death, no one thought about which photo Komori Motoya would choose as his funeral portrait.
He left too many photos. Not only others took them, but also he liked photography himself. Perhaps his artistic attainments were not high, but he poured his love for life into the photos, which also seemed vivid and touching.
Those used for memories may arouse a knowing smile, but at that time they would only make people sad. Even people who didn't have much contact with Komori Motoya couldn't bear to look - he was so young and excellent; he wasn’t eclipsed even in the Monster Generation of many star players; he had a bright and promising future, but fell more without omens than a meteor…
In the end, it was Sakusa that decided on it, because no one else could persist in looking through all the photos. He recalled his state of mind at that time, but failed to figure out what kind of mood it was that made him sift and compare over and over again, and finally make a choice.
He chose the photo taken when Komori Motoya was selected for the national team.
Some people say that the funeral portrait represents the best moment of the dead for the person who chooses it. Did that mean that the best Komori Motoya for Sakusa existed five years ago? It was not the case.
It was just that when he saw the photo, he just remembered that Komori Motoya said a sentence when he got the photo. He praised that the photo was very good, saying that there would be no problem even if it was used for a funeral portrait.
He was beside him, with his face falling, scolding Komori Motoya for making inappropriate remarks. Motoya blinked and smiled.
“Isn't it the best praise for a photo that it can be used as a funeral portrait?” he said.
At that time, Komori Motoya seemed to be joking, but the praise was serious, so the analogy didn’t seem so careless. Sakusa thought it was a choice by fate, so he conveyed his decision.
Then they paid their last respects to his remains, which was followed by cremation and funeral. He didn't shed tears during the whole process, even his eye sockets didn’t turn red. When his relatives spoke, he also went on the stage, and his tone was calm and fluent, as if he were reciting a prepared draft. As for whether it seemed too cold-blooded, perhaps there were some people who thought so, but no one said it. It was just that when he deposited the cremains in the temple, and said goodbye to Komori's relatives at the door, Motoya's elder sister like his elder sister and Motoya's younger sister like his younger sister looked at him with red eyes, with the emotions in the two pairs of eyes, which often smiled as those of Motoya’s did, were very complex. Maybe saying nothing was condemnation. He was stingy with tears, and they were stingy to say goodbye as reciprocation.
What he thought of at that time was the funeral portrait of Komori Motoya. The national team's uniform was red, and wearing red at the funeral was taboo, but as it was a funeral portrait, no one had any objection. So only the dead himself could attend the funeral in red.
The thought was too strange. He laughed, and Komori Motoya also laughed out. Then he restrained his smile and asked why he was so haggard when he saw him.
“I don't know.” Sakusa whispered, which sounded really at a loss. He said he returned to the team after the funeral and participated in training and matches as usual until a week ago.
In the schedule were friendly matches between several clubs, including MSBY and EJP. They were planned a month in advance.
He sorted out and confirmed his schedule as usual. He saw that “friendly matches” was on those two dates. After clicking, he looked at the sub items.
"Near Itachiyama. Ends at five o'clock. Go to dinner with Motoya."
"Book a hotel. Contact in advance"
"Go home once."
…
There was a lot of things to do. This was his first thought. He rarely had so many trivial matters outside matches.
He should remind Motoya in case he may forget sometimes. This was his second thought. At that time, he suddenly became dumb and felt as if he had forgotten something, but he quickly remembered, which was his third thought——
Motoya had already died.
Therefore, the plan needed to be changed. He thought calmly that he didn't have to book a hotel alone; he didn't need to make a special trip to dinner. and he could also eat with his teammates in the hotel; he needed to go home by himself; he should prepare souvenirs for his uncle and aunt…
Fatigue surged up with his thoughts. He thought himself sleepy, so he went to have a rest. The next day, after the matches, he went home and also visited his uncle and aunt. They still looked very sad and didn't even dispose all of Komori Motoya’s belongings he left behind.
With permission, Sakusa took away Komori Motoya's books and some of his clothes, including team uniforms of high school, college, and national team - he realized that volleyball almost filled Komori Motoya's life to the full. And this was also the case for him, so his life was also filled with things that filled Komori Motoya's life to the full. If we want to take the intersection of their lives, it will be infinitely close to the union of their lives.
There were too many things to pack and send to Osaka. Sakusa was good at such things. He sorted the books according to their sizes, folded the clothes, gathered them into several cartons and sealed them with tapes - when he did these things, he was zoning out until Komori Motoya's mother came in and her hand gently fell on Sakusa's shoulder. She looks much thinner. In her long light chestnut hair like Motoya’s, a lot of grey hair had grown. In her dark blueish gray eyes like Motoya’s, there was deep sorrow. She said, “Kiyoomi, you should be able to accept it.”
Sakusa didn't understand, “what should I be able to accept?”
“Accept Motoya's death.” she said gently, “Motoya was dead, and we all have to look forward.”
Sakusa didn't think he didn't accept it. It was just because he accepted Motoya's death that he went to the funeral, changed his schedule, and came here.
But he still felt it harsh, as if he was really very sensitive about others saying that Komori Motoya was dead. How did he leave? He felt it was a bit like fleeing.
"It was when things started to go wrong." Sakusa lowered his head. His hair, which was scattered by the sea breeze, slipped and hung on the side of his face. Komori Motoya couldn't see his expression clearly.
He didn't sleep that night when he returned to Hirakata. In his memory, he never had insomnia, but he lost sleep that night. After that, he didn't sleep well every night.
As a result, he was in a trance during training and finally asked the club for leave.
"At that time, Shoyo and my other teammates were all worried about me and asked me when I could return to the team." His elbows were on his knees, his hands were put together, and his fingertips rubbed gently. "I don't know, either."
"I also never thought I could see you again."
"Motoya, if you can go back to your time, you promise me one thing." He suddenly turned around and solemnly held Komori Motoya's shoulder. He looked calm, but his words were like a sharp blade,
"Don't fall in love with me."
"Kiyoomi, what are you talking about..."
"Maybe I didn't make it clear enough. You might feel disgusted – feeling disgusted isn’t bad though -" Sakusa's eyes flickered hesitantly and became firm again. Even a brief smile appeared on his face. "We are lovers, Komori Motoya."
The exact time they became lovers was the night of the day of the high school graduation ceremony. Komori Motoya stayed at his house. When they sat on the sofa watching TV, at some time, when their eyes were opposite, they exchanged a kiss.
Naturally, without extra effort, it happened like this. Neither of them could tell who had this feeling for the other first. It happened like the rise and fall of the sea tide, happened in the ups and downs, but was unstoppable.
Later, they had been dating for many years, and no one questioned whether the relationship was reasonable. Sakusa felt that he was indifferent to the views of others, but Komori Motoya, who was social and got along well with others, would also make this choice, which surprised him very much.
But it was undeniable that they were very careful to maintain this relationship and not to let it be exposed to others. It was as if they were walking on the edge of a cliff, without any retreat if backward, and with only overturn if forward, but they still walked carefully towards each other and stretched their necks to kiss.
In those days when he couldn't sleep well, he thought of Komori Motoya and the photos he had looked at one by one, many of which had him in them, or without him but he was nearby when they were taken. In fact, he could remember most of things in the photos without looking at them. He remembered a night scene of Osaka from the window of his apartment, when Motoya leaned on the head of his bed, with his back without clothes to cover it against his arm, and he remembered the hot and humid temperature; he remembered that Motoya wanted to take a picture with him, with his arm reached around his hindneck and the cloth rubbed on his delicate skin, causing goose bumps on it; there was a group photo in the park after the game, when Komori Motoya was unexpectedly presumptuous and turned his head to kiss his cheek when the shutter pressed, making him so flustered that he almost jumped up, while Komori Motoya laughed out loud, turned the camera to him and said, ”you didn’t photograph it at all”, and he didn’t know why he thought Motoya looked a little disappointed at that time.
On the morning when the 11-year-old Komori Motoya arrived, the last scene in his dream was the ginkgo leaves in Itachiyama, without any gaps, golden yellow tier upon tier. At that time, Motoya took photos upward on the ground, and then took his hand to stand up. He said it was dirty on the ground, and Motoya just smiled, showed him the photos, and said “Kiyoomi, you see, how beautiful the scenery is.”
"I see, Kiyoomi." Komori Motoya listened to him quietly. When he made sure he didn't want to talk any more, he patted his hand gently, stood up and walked to the seaside, and then turned to face him, "let's say goodbye at this point."
The sun had completely sunk under the horizon. In the increasingly dim light, Komori Motoya's body was gradually transparent. Sakusa seemed to freeze, with his mouth closed and his eyes firmly fixed on Komori Motoya without saying a word.
"Kiyoomi," Komori Motoya shouted to him gently, and opened his hand to him, smiling, "are you happy to be in love with me? Do you regret meeting me?"
Sakusa was stunned, and said, trembling, “no... I don't... Motoya... Motoya!"
He suddenly broke down. He also stood up and stumbled to Komori Motoya, without minding that the ground was covered with sand and dust, almost fell to the ground, holding Komori Motoya tightly in his arms.
Fortunately, the temperature had not disappeared yet, the tactile feel was still real, and he was still able to say a few words.
"I'm happy. I've always been. I've never regretted it."
"Motoya, Motoya... Don't leave..."
Komori Motoya hugged Sakusa back. His body became more and more transparent and he felt tired mentally, but his voice still had a slight smile,
"That's good enough, Kiyoomi."
"Live on well, Kiyoomi. Since we can meet in this way, it shows that there must be some supernatural force in the world. Maybe I, who died in this world, am still accompanying you? Maybe we will meet again? Before that, please live well."
“If you miss me, take more looks at the sea in front of you. "
Sakusa felt a kiss on his forehead. He raised his head and only saw the sea at dusk.
The sea which was like Motoya’s eyes.

Epilogue

11-year-old Komori Motoya woke up. On his own small bed, he heard the doorbell and remembered that he was going to play volleyball with Kiyoomi today.
He rushed down and opened the door. Kiyoomi was standing at the door with an impatient expression.
Komori Motoya remembered what the 27-year-old Sakusa Kiyoomi said to him, and he suddenly smiled. He put his loosened his grip of the door handle and ran up to give Sakusa a hug.
"What are you doing? You have taken leave of senses after taking a nap?"
"Uh-huh, I had a very beautiful dream."

Sakusa sat by the sea. Some thoughts seemed to be pushed into his blank mind by the sea tide. He recalled the last words that 28-year-old Komori Motoya said to him on the phone,
"See you around." He said “see you around”, but the tone was like they would never meet again.

Sakusa Kiyoomi understood that the Motoya he met was just this one, the one who knew he would die at the age of 28 when he was 11.
For 11-year-old Komori Motoya, the meeting with 27-year-old Sakusa Kiyoomi was just a dream in the sweltering summer. He knew that they would play volleyball in the future. Kiyoomi would be an excellent outside hitter, and he would be a No. 1 libero in Japan. They had been in love all the time, and they had never separated even before he died.
And he would die at the age of 28.
He knew that he didn’t save Motoya, a person who, even if knew that fate had built a high wall for him, would not give in, but hit it head-on without hesitation.
Sakusa thought of his last time to see Motoya off at the boarding gate. Motoya turned around, with his grayish blue eyes looking profoundly at him. Such deep feelings almost spilled out. Sakusa was caught off guard and nearly suffocated. He asked him what was the matter.
"I was thinking," his voice was full of smile, "even death can't make me give up you."
And what did he say?
He said, “don't force me to kiss you here.”
“That's the best.” Motoya said so.

The Author’s Notes:
Because I personally like Motoya very much, I poured a lot of love and enthusiasm into him. When I wrote this article, I thought of a monologue in Forever Young: " If it is possible to know the life you will confront in advance, will you still have the courage to embrace it?" I think Komori Motoya has the courage and will not shrink back. He will neither fear nor escape fate.
Moreover, for him, it was just a dream at the age of 11. To alienate Sakusa for a dream was not what he would do.
But for Motoya, if fate really wanted him to die at the age of 28, could he escape just by leaving Sakusa? Would he be willing to give up Sakusa to pursue a longer life?
As Keats said in his poem, "I even hope we were butterflies, which can only survive for three days in summer - three days with you is better than fifty years alone in this world."
I think if death was inevitable, he would choose to love more firmly.
If life was short, then he hoped no moment would be regretful.
Therefore, finally Sakusa would recall Komori Motoya, recalling that when Motoya was gazing at him, he always wore an expression like it was the last time in his life. He would also understand why Motoya accepted his confession without any hesitation and came together with him without any fear.
In fact, after reading this article, you don't need to be too sad. Death is just an end, which has the same nature as the fading of love to some extent. Some people may have survived for a long time on the scale of life, but they have completely died in the aspect of love. Can loving each other until they are separated by death also be regarded as gaining eternal life in love?
Just like one of Tsangyang Gyatso's poems - " in this short life, this has been enough for me. I don't know in another life when we are young, whether we can meet like yesterday."
Death was a pity, but they both loved each other and did their best, so there was no regret.
Of course, if you say, Komori Motoya has avoided nothing and resisted nothing, it was not the case though. The last call to Kiyoomi at the last moment of his life, and the last goodbye before the end, was his greatest resistance to fate.
Fate could end my life and cut off my time. But could fate stop me from kissing you once more, having one more word with you, and loving you a little more?

Thank you for reading to here.