Chapter Text
“Absolutely not,” Kenma snapped. “There is nothing I care more about than this game, and that studio can have the rights over my dead body.” He glared up at his best friend from his desk, hands clasped firmly together and a determined look on his face. “I don’t care how much they offer.”
Kuroo groaned. “Listen, we’re just an indie game studio. They could give us an in, plus the publicity will be great!”
“It’s the popularity that’s the problem,” Kenma retorted. “They make idiotic, high-budget action movies. They’ll butcher the game! Can you think of a single video game adaptation that was good? They’ll focus on fight scenes and ignore the depth of the story. Plus, the publicity would just be annoying. It sounds like too much work.”
“More work than continuing to refuse?” Kuroo mumbled. At this point, they had been at it for weeks, ever since a producer at Karasuno Studios, the deceptively polite Sawamura Daichi, had reached out about buying the rights to Nekoma’s cult-popular RPG. Normally, they would first discuss an option agreement, which could very well lead to nothing. It was just a down payment, giving Karasuno the option of creating a film adaptation should they get the licensing. However, if Sawamura was skipping straight to getting the rights, it was serious. He must be certain of their success in starting up the project.
Kenma, however, was not, and made sure Kuroo knew it. As the creator of Nekoma Games, this was entirely his passion project, so Kuroo couldn’t just shut him down directly. Well, that along with the fact that Kenma had pretty much never shown this much emotion before. He had a feeling Kuroo was still in a state of shock that he hadn’t just mumbled in agreement.
“If that’s all you wanted to talk about, then I’ll be heading home for today.” Kenma stood up, dusting crumbs off of his hoodie. His dyed hair was in a loose ponytail that was barely hanging on, so he just pulled out the hair tie before it got any worse. Admittedly, his workplace was very casual, much to the glee of his college friends turned coworkers. He hadn't been planning on telling any of them about his plans to create his own game, assuming no one would be interested. Then Kuroo just had to let it slip. Accidentally, he said.
Well, it had turned out fine up until now. At the moment, his team was completely split on whether to take the deal. Lev and Yamamoto were the biggest proponents of the idea once Kuroo brought it up. Unsurprising, since they loved Karasuno’s movies–and, if Kenma might add, were not involved with the writing or designing of Solar-Blooded. Even now, as he made his way outside, Lev cast a hopeful glance his way, which he shut down with a wave of his hand.
“Oh, come on!” he cried. “I put so much work into marketing and stuff, and now we have the chance to multiply it by a thou–OW!”
His words were cut off by a sharp elbow from Yaku, who was sitting next to him. “You didn't do the work; I did, and you made it worse with your ‘help.’ Honestly, Kenma, we didn't need to hire the whole friend group," he said with raised eyebrows. Then, after a long pause: “I assume Kuroo’s still trying.”
“Yup.”
“Well, don't worry, I'm still on your side! Fukunaga agrees, and so does I think Shibayama–he’s just nervous about disagreeing with Kuroo.
Shouldn't be, though,” Yaku continued, raising his voice. “Kuroo’s a complete dumbass.”
“I AM A BUSINESSMAN, MORISUKE”
“Same thing.”
Okay, this was getting a little tiring. Kenma wanted to be grateful for the support, but he really just wanted to leave. As Kuroo and Yaku continued their verbal sparring, he slipped away, only to be greeted by Kai. The man had been uneasy lately due to the division that was forming, so he just tried to pretend everything was fine. Thankfully, their other friends had gone home by now, so he finally made it outside their office area with no more interactions. They were on the third floor of a building occupied by various other small companies, so now he'd just have to take the elevator down and then it was back to his apartment.
Then, he hears footsteps approaching from behind.
“Oh, hello there, are you Kozume Kenma?”
Seriously?
Kenma gauges the chances of avoiding whatever this was about. Nobody else was in the hallway, and the man’s voice had been loud and clear. 0 percent. Fine.
He turned around, and was surprised to see a tall man around his age, with handsome features and warm brown eyes. It wasn't someone he'd seen in the building before. “I've reached out to your company multiple times through email, but that doesn't seem to be helpful in progressing our communication.”
Kenma looked the man up and down, trying to see if there was any way his prediction was wrong. “You're… Sawamura, aren't you?”
Sawamura grinned at him. “Yes, I am. I understand your studio feels uncertain about selling the rights to Solar-Blooded. It is a beautiful story of survival and chance, and the fact that it takes place in space is just an added bonus!”
The annoyance in Kenma’s eyes lessened, if just slightly. At least Sawamura’s interpretation was not purely focused on fighting and special effects. His game didn't have much of either on a large scale, so the statement was a little promising. Still, he had no plans of letting Karasuno make the movie.
“Normally, I would give up at this point,” the producer continued. “There are so many incredible pieces of intellectual property out there whose creators would be open to selling. It's just that we've already done a lot of work on this movie.”
“Planning a project without the rights to it?” Kenma asked. “Pretty bold.”
Sawamura flushed slightly. “Well, unofficially. My team’s just as close-knit as yours. Truth is, we've been a bit… boxed in by our recent successes. We're not actually a huge studio. We rely a lot on a handful of wealthy shareholders, who just want to see more boring, profitable ‘slop,’ not something creative.”
“So you think that, because both your team and mine are small, creating a successful movie together will prove money-hungry stakeholders wrong.”
Sawamura grinned. “Exactly!”
“Don't get the wrong idea–understanding is very different from agreeing. I'm still not selling the rights. Also, I’m going home now.”
With that, he marched away, back to where the elevator was. He stepped in, and just as the doors were about to close, so did Sawamura.
This man was rapidly losing points in his relationship meter with Kenma.
“Just one more thing,” Sawamura wheezed. “We already have an actor in mind for the main role, and… he's perfect. I know that Haruki is more than just some being on the Sun. He's warmth itself, endurance, exploration, and so much more. This guy we have, he would make the most incredible Haruki.”
Kenma remained silent. He wasn't sure he believed this.
The elevator dinged, announcing that they were on the first floor. “I-I’ll bring him tomorrow,” Sawamura called after Kenma, who left the elevator as fast as he could. “Please, give him a chance!”
A gust of air hit Kenma as he exited the building, blowing tendrils of hair into his face. He didn’t bother readjusting his appearance as he walked to the nearby subway station. He sat in complete stillness on the way back to his apartment, trying to make sense of the interaction with Karasuno’s Sawamura.
His apartment complex wasn’t far from the metro stop, either, so he was able to quickly return. He lived on the second storey of a squat, five-storey building. His home wasn’t huge, but he only needed space for his electronics, and the accompanying mess of wires. Usually, it was quiet, but today there was a racket at the entrance. Two suitcases were left unattended, and someone close by was yelling. A few other tenants had exited their rooms to observe the situation with confusion, or possibly offer help with whatever was going on.
Well, not my problem, he thought. He took one glance at the suitcases–they looked worn but loved, and were covered in nauseatingly cheerful stickers. As much as it wasn’t his taste, Kenma decided that whoever they belonged to must be an interesting person, at the very least.
“Oh, thanks for keeping watch over my stuff!”
The cheerful voice seemed to explode into the room as the presumed owner of the suitcases rushed over, toting four heavy-looking bags in his arms. Kenma was tired just looking at him.
“I wasn’t, just looking,” Kenma sighed. He had a feeling the day’s socializing was not yet over.
“Well, thanks anyways! Do you like my stickers?”
“No, not re–”
“Oh, I haven’t even told you who I am! I’m Shouyou, Hinata Shouyou, and I’m moving into this building. I assume you live here also? That’s great!”
Shouyou moved a little closer, brown eyes flashing with excitement. Kenma could see his own disgruntled reflection in them, and wondered why this guy wasn’t giving up. “Yeah, um, and I need to get back to my room, so…” Normally, people would back off at that statement. Kenma was good at analyzing the subtleties of conversation, and knew that the hurried disinterest he exhibited would stop Shouyou right in his tracks.
“Do you mind helping me with my stuff?”
Kenma froze. “I… uh…” He wasn’t a skilled conversationalist; his only ability was to end interactions efficiently, so now he was in uncharted water.
Shouyou’s face morphed into something thoughtful. “I understand if you don't have the time or don't want to! It would help but I'm strong enough to do it on my own.” As proof, he flexed his muscled arms and waved the bags he was still holding.
Every piece of information about this situation led to a single logical decision: refuse Shouyou with as much politeness as he could offer, then continue on his way.
Instead of doing that, he found himself grabbing the handles of the suitcases and leading Shouyou to the elevator.
“I'm on the third floor, room 306.”
Great. Kenma was in room 206, and with the thin ceilings, he was certainly going to hear Shouyou jumping around all the time. He chose not to mention it, lest Shouyou somehow turned it into another opportunity for bonding.
After all, he was entirely unpredictable.
…………………………………
He's entirely unpredictable, Shouyou thought. His fellow tenant looked entirely uninterested in talking to him, but still offered to help with his luggage. He hadn't even offered his name, or even shown proof that he did in fact live here. The plain hoodie and shorts he was wearing seemed normal enough, but…
“Wait, you're not like, planning to murder me or steal my stuff, right?” he chuckled. His eyes flicked over to see the response, only to be met with a stony face.
The stranger cocked his head. “Why would I do that.” His response was curt and left no room to continue the conversation, though his eyes gleamed with curiosity. Shouyou held the elevator door open while his neighbor dragged out the suitcases, arms straining under their weight. When they arrived at room 306, there was a long, awkward pause. “Oh, you can just leave everything here, I got it,” Shouyou said confidently.
“If you’re sure.” The other man let go of the suitcases and started to retreat. He took a few steps, then paused and turned around. “Kenma. I didn’t tell you my name, right?”
Shouyou’s smile could’ve been mistaken for a supernova. “Nice to meet you, Kenma. Do you mind if I give you my number, and then you can choose whether or not you want to chat? That way I can’t bother you without warning, right?”
It was slight, but Shouyou didn’t miss the way Kenma’s eyes widened slightly.
Oh wait, was that a weird thing to ask? Did it sound too forward or creepy?
Kenma looked him firmly in the eye. “No.”
It was definitely creepy. Shouyou’s face lit up to match the color of his hair.
“But, I will give you my number in case you need help with things around here. Not for chatting purposes, alright?” Kenma gestured for Shouyou to hand over his phone, which he did with little reservation, silently relieved that his request had not been misconstrued. “Making me reach out first is a terrible idea,” Kenma mumbled. “There. Now you can contact me.” Though it wasn’t a question, Kenma’s tone still turned upwards at the end. It seemed he couldn’t believe that he was agreeing to this, and Shouyou definitely understood.
“Yup! Though I’m gonna be pretty busy from here on out.” If Daichi’s deal with that Nekoma studio went through, then he’d soon be thrust into production. If not, he’d still search for roles. It’s not like his decision to move to Tokyo was purely hinging on the deal. Then, on top of filming, being an actor wasn’t a full-time job for him, so he’d have to search for jobs in the area. He found himself hoping he’d still find time to befriend Kenma, somewhere in there. “Well, thank you for helping me. See you around!”
Back already turned to Shouyou, Kenma simply held up a hand in acknowledgement.