Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

As glass shattered, Kenma shot up and hissed instinctively at the emptiness of his room.

His dorm room was vacant, engulfed in complete black except for the small yellow light of Kenma's lantern and trickles of pale orange that now came in through what was a broken window. Sighing, Kenma stood up and crawled over to the scene of disaster to inspect the wreckage, feeling annoyance begin to boil up.

Last night - wait, what was he talking about? There had been no last night to begin with.

Yesterday, Kenma had returned late from a shift of his at the gaming store, feeling exhausted and hungry. Nevertheless, bearing through an empty stomach and intense fatigue, he had somehow battled through with some of his Calculus assignment and managed to finish his part for a History of Art presentation (he would revise later, as his work would probably be incoherent the next morning when he looked at it), he decided that he could resist no more. He was so tired that he did not even have a desire to finish his current level of the game he had just bought a week ago, even as he was fighting a major boss that would help him incredibly in his quest. Not even bothering to change, he'd slid over to his bed and dumped himself on it, closing his eyes to...

"That's right, Katsuhito, that's right...!"

Kenma cursed.

He'd gone over to the bed at the other side of the room and stolen pillows from his roommate, Taketora, and returned with a pile of them to cover his ears with. However, it was to no avail. The walls were simply built too thin. He would take it up as a complaint to the Director, but back then, there was nothing he could do, as lustful moans, sighs, thrusts and noises were heard from the room right next to his, only intensifying as the night progressed. Kenma, not wanting to socialize with anybody or be witness of anything, hadn't gone next door to complain but had simply walked over to his desk, plugged in his headphones, and decided to work on some things. After all, whatever the neighbors had to do would not last forever, right?

Wrong.

The entire night and most of the next morning were filled with the same disturbances. If only they could use that stamina for other things, Kenma lamented.

Taketora had not returned, as he had mentioned the previous morning he would be out drinking with some friends of his and would spend the night with one of them. He was wise. Kenma had debated heading over to his friend Shoyou's and camp there too, but decided against it, as the orange-haired ball of sunshine would probably not be any quieter. Before his thoughts could be fully developed, however, he had groggily turned off his music and fallen asleep, head tucked against the keyboard of his laptop.

That had been thirty minutes ago.

Kenma stood over the damage made. The one window he and Taketora shared was relatively medium-sized and rectangular, with a good view of a campus courtyard and some distance away, some sports facilities. As an athlete, his roommate had been particularly pleased with their proximity to those locations. Kenma, right now, however, was not. He knelt down and grabbed the most valuable piece of evidence that would lead him to the culprit - a baseball.

He turned and looked at his digital desk clock, which was shining with the bright red digits of 4:13 A.M.

Four in the morning?! What the hell was the baseball team doing at four in the morning? thought Kenma in annoyance, grabbing the ball angrily in his hands. He wanted to chuck it back right at those obnoxious baseball players, who had recently began intensifying their training for some upcoming championship, but knew he didn't have the arm power to even make it an eighth of the distance to the university baseball stadium, much less hit somebody.

He went back to inspecting the remains of the window, which was completely shattered, with only some bits of glass holding onto the wooden frame. Shards of glass littered the floor, while two of Taketora's books and three of his succulents had suffered a blow too, falling down from their shelves and splattering across their dorm floor.

Kenma looked out of the window. He could make out some vague figures standing there, all indeed part of the university's baseball team. Two appeared to be screaming, while another one was a puddle in the floor. Some others crowded around them, while another suddenly appeared of nowhere, apparently not amused. However, it was too far for Kenma to create a concrete image of what was going.

He sighed, grabbed a sticky note to leave to Taketora:

Those baseball people were practicing and broke our window. Please clean up. Thanks. - Kenma

Then he went back to his desk and plugged in his headphones to listen to his music, hoping he could slowly fall asleep once more. After all, even with his broken window, the moaning next door had not yet stopped, and was ever passionate.

Why couldn't they have broken their window?

Eventually, Kenma fell asleep and then woke up a few hours later, feeling at least slightly more refreshed. Taketora had returned, as the succulents and books had been put back to his usual places, and the shards of glass had been cleaned and removed. Taketora was a pretty good roommate, Kenma decided. Loud at times, annoying most of them, but he wasn't a bad person, and also recovered from hangovers relatively quickly, meaning that he wasn't difficult to live with.

He soon realized something else, however.

He realized he had overslept four hours and that he would have to skip breakfast, even when he'd been unable to have dinner the previous night, because the university Dining Hall serving hours were long past. Kenma grumbled in frustration, realizing that he would have to enter his morning class with an empty stomach. It was a Creative Writing course, so he supposed he would live, but Kenma had a bad premonition of the day to come.

His premonition turned out to be true.

He went over to his closet to change out of yesterday's crummy clothes - only to find a cat.

Normally, Kenma was a huge cat lover. His parents back in Miyagi even owned three cats, and the most cats they had had were thirteen. However, Kenma was not a cat lover when said cat was laying on top of all of his clothes, filling them with cat hairs.

Suddenly, a door opened and Taketora came in looking refreshed, with just a towel around his hips. He went over to his bed to put on a pair of jeans, a simple red shirt, and walked across the room barefoot before he realized his roommate was also up. He smiled.

"Oh, hey Kenma, you're awake! What's up?" Taketora grinned.

Kenma glared at him and flung the doors of his closet wide open, making the cat inside screech and Taketora jump in slight surprise. "Yes, I am awake. Taketora, what is this?"

"Um, yeah. That," Taketora said, not willing to meet his eyes.

"..."

"Well, last night I was out with the guys, yeah? But then, we saw this cat in the side of the street and - you didn't see it last night, Kenma! He looked so sad and lonely! He was practically dying! - "

"He?"

"Um, I checked. Anyways, he was in deep suffering! He was meowing and purring and curling up in my lap - like he was calling me, you know? So I decided to bring him home, you know, until we could find his owner or just find it a home. You were asleep, so I brought him quietly and decided I could just keep him in the corner for now, or something. But it wouldn't shut up! It was just crying and crying and crying. I tried feeding him, I tried singing him to sleep, I tried petting him, but nothing worked! I put him everywhere, and the only place he would calm down was in your, uh, closet. And I was kind of tired and groggy last night, so I...kind of just left him there," Taketora said. He swallowed and then continued. "But please, don't be angry! I already found his owner too! He'll be out by today."

Kenma sighed. He was so done. But what could he do?

"Do you have a comb?" he asked.

"Um, no."

"...My clothes are full of cat hair."

"I-I can lend you some of mine, if you want!"

No thank you, Kenma thought, with flashbacks from Taketora's atrocious closet.

"It's fine. I'll just text Shoyou."

"A-Are you sure? B-Because my offer is still up, and - !"

"Don't you have some Aerodynamics Seminar to go to?"

"What, wait - I do!" Taketora shrieked, panicking for a few flustered seconds and then dashing out of the room in his fit of nervousness, grabbing his open backpack and running barefoot like there was no tomorrow, even forgetting to close the door behind him.

Kenma sighed, and went to close the door for him, when suddenly, in the room next to his, his neighbor came out, fully-clothed and ready to learn, looking impeccable from head to toe.

"Good morning, Kenma! How do you do?" smiled Kinoshita, just as characteristically friendly as always. There was a particular step to his walk, however, and Kenma was angrily reminded about the reason he knew of Kinoshita's source of cheerfulness.

Kenma did not even reply back. He only glared at him as hard as his annoyed, sleep-deprived self could, went back to his room, and slammed the door behind him.

He went ahead and texted his friend Shoyou, who lived practically three minutes away, and hoped he wouldn't be busy. They were a similar size, so his clothes should fit him quite well, even for the day. Of course, as always, he proved to be surprisingly reliable, and replied to his texts promptly and as excitedly as usual.

Something he liked about Hinata was that he asked no questions, but still offered many answers.

[sent at 9:14 A.M.] have a problem. can you lend me some clothes?

[sent at 9:14 A.M.] kEnmA!!!! g morning!!! hiiii!! F COURSE!! :D :D u didn't even have to ask!! so amazing! #friendshipgoals!! wooah! i will head over right there in like 2 secs, ok??

[sent at 9:16 A.M.] maybe 12 secs ...

[sent at 9:16 A.M.] or two mins

[sent at 9:16 A.M.] but still!! i'll have some clothes for you! i'll be there quickly! don't worry!!

[sent at 9:16 A.M.] thanks

"Bro," said Kuroo empathetically, running his hands soothingly through his friend Bokuto's silky hair, "don't be sad. I hate seeing you sad, you know that, my bro? To be honest, Suzuki was a dick. You're better off without him. But I will always be here for you. Because we're best bros, and bros support each other."

They were all currently in a coffee shop, reunited to support Kuroo's bro-king of bros, Bokuto, who now lay heartbroken on Kuroo's lap, looking up at the ceiling with glassy eyes and a dejected expression. Bokuto's boyfriend (now ex) had broken up coldly with him by text, leaving him broken and confused without any concrete reason. Therefore, to eat and vent his feelings, Bokuto had decided to call Kurooand their other friends so they could help him pull out of his melancholic mood. It was better like this, Kuroo thought. Kuroo had been Bokuto's pillar of support in many other heartbreaks, and during the worse ones, Bokuto would not only isolate himself from society, he would isolate himself from his connections, wallowing in his bitterness and self-deprecating personal bubble on his own, not allowing anyone else to interfere.

Once, Kuroo had forcefully broken Bokuto's door (it had been locked) down only to find his friend in critical condition, as he'd suffered from weeks of malnourishment and had poor vitals. In his sadness, he had forgotten to properly take care of himself. Had Kuroo not acted quickly, attempting to feed him and calling an ambulance to take him away to the hospital immediately, the doctors said that...perhaps Bokuto wouldn't have made it.

The thought of that scared him beyond anything.

"Tell the world we're bros, bro," whined Bokuto lazily, allowing some drunken stupor to slip into his speech. It was evident he had spent last night drinking, feeling miserable. He'd told them about the heartbreak just today, after all. He had probably wanted time for himself before.

"Okay," said Kuroo, trying to act as carefree as always without letting his friend know how sad he was for him. Then he leaned into Bokuto's ear and whispered, "We're the best of bros. Nothing and nobody is going to tear us apart."

"Why'd you just whisper it in my ear?"

"Because you are my whole world, bro."

"Bro!" said Bokuto with tears in his eye, throwing himself on Kuroo to hug him.

"Bro," said Kuroo, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

In front of them, their Dad friend and parent extraordinaire, Daichi, looked more tired than anything. He'd ordered some dark coffee and waffles, which he had dunked excessively in syrup. He played with his food idly, looking a little groggy-eyed, but nevertheless, determined to help Bokuto. As Kuroo and Bokuto ended their tight bear hug, he put his fork down and looked at Bokuto firmly, but with affection in his eyes. As their 'father' figure in their circle of friend, he usually radiated strict order but also reasurring stability, always giving the right advice at the right time.

"Although I wished it had been expressed in different words, Kuroo is right," said Daichi. "You're much better off without that guy. I never liked him anyways."
Suddenly, they were interrupted by the one and only Drama King, who coincidentally chose this moment to clash with Daichi's soothing, touching words with some rather explosive ones of his own, armed with a devilish smirk.

"Yoo hoo! What are you talking about? Are we dissing Suzuki-chan? Because I have a lot of material to roast that son of a bitch with!"

Oikawa dropped by next to Daichi, sitting in front of Kuroo and Bokuto. Once again, much to Kuroo's exasperation, he had chosen another of his obscenely long orders. Initially, Kuroo had been convinced he did those in purpose just to annoy the poor baristas, but eventually he realized that was just Oikawa's inner, natural diva showing itself.

What had he even ordered this time? he thought. Kuroo took a quick peek, but he honestly had no idea. He thought maybe it was some sort of latte. He could name you the entire Periodic Table in groups of identical valance electron configurations without missing a beat, yet when it came to coffee, he liked resorting to the basics.

He was just always that humble and down-to-earth.

Daichi sighed. "Oikawa, we're not here to roast anybody. We are here to convince Bokuto to go on with his life and forget that dirty low-life so he can be open to more opportunities."

"Aww, Dadchi, you're no fun!" teased Oikawa.

"Well, Dadchi knows best!" joked Kuroo. He had to continue with his act of cheerfulness in order to pull Bokuto from this slump. Why not use dad jokes? Maybe he could even add some puns, at it. If he could distract Bokuto, the easier it would be to bury Suzuki in some dark, forgotten corner of his mind and get him to go on with his life. Bokuto was strong. He just needed a little boost sometimes. Didn't they all, after all? No human being was fully-functioning on their complete own. "C'mon, Bo, cheer up. You'll find them eventually!"

"How long is 'eventually'? Because I've spent the last eight years doing so!" his friend groaned back.

"Eight years will be nothing when you meet them. It'll be totally worth it!" said Oikawa encouragingly. Then he snickered, turning to Kuroo. "Besides, at least you didn't offend your soulmate in your first meeting."

Kuroo scowled at him.

Kuroo's soulmate line appeared in his thirteenth birthday in small, neat, and clear print. He'd stayed up all night in excitement, pretending to be asleep to trick his parents and siblings, before turning up some lamps in his room when the coast was clear. He'd also smuggled some of his birthday cake to his room, and had been eating it, when he'd felt a small tingly sensation above his left hipbone, a pleasant burning sensation. In excitement, almost throwing his cake slice into the hair, he'd pulled part of his sweatpants down to read his soulmate line, excited to get to know something, even if it was small, about his other ha -

If you dare do that, I will tape your mouth and shove you out of this train.

Kuroo had frozen in that moment. His childish, teenage self had felt something akin to fear. Do what? What had he done? He couldn't have messed up in their first meeting, could he? Panic had seized in his chest, as he ran through scenarios in his worried head. Under what circumstances would he meet his soulmate? Would they be...life-threatening?

Later on, however, especially after some encouraging words from his parents, Kuroo had realized that he had nothing to worry about. In fact, he'd gotten a pretty good soulmate line. He knew, at least, that his soulmate had a pretty solid sense of humor (he hoped they weren't yandere, though...), and that they would meet up in a train. That was more than enough information for him to get started on his search. He'd felt pretty relieved.

"You probably just messed up!" his older brother had laughed gleefully, taunting him jokingly and poking him in the stomach. "You and your lame-ass jokes. At least whoever this person is, they have common sense."

"My jokes are not lame!" he'd scowled back indignantly.

"You're right," his older sister had replied sharply, "they're not lame. They're so bad, they're not even on the scale."

"Children," their father had said, rolling his eyes. That day had been one of the rare days his father, no, both of his parents, had been home, since they were always away working. "Be nice."

"We are nice!" Kuroo's siblings had replied instinctively in unison. Then, they'd high-fived.

"You're not," Kuroo had snapped accusingly back. Then, he'd cocked his head curiously to the side, staring at his father, who had been reading a book. "Dad, is that a book on anti-gravity?"

"Oh, yes," Kuroo's father had said in surprise, re-adjusting his glasses a little before lifting the cover to let his son see it better. "It's a biography written by an European astronomer on his studies of gravity and the existence of gravitational waves. Why? Are you interested in it?"

"Such a smart boy, our Tetsu!" Kuroo's mother, entering with a tray of warm brownies, had said. "He's already getting such high marks in school. Maybe he becomes this family's scientist! How would that sound? The first Japanese astronaut to land on Mars!"

"Wow, Ma," Kuroo's brother had said jokingly, "thanks for acknowledging your two other children."

"You and Haruka are very intelligent too, of course," his mother had said affectionately, putting the tray in front of them and removing her oven mitts. "But we all know that you are our musician, while your sister is our young lawyer. We're just opening up the possibilities for Tetsurou! Ah, Tetsu, did you know we didn't even know we would be having you? Your conception was so unexpected! I thought that with Hiro and Haruka we would be finished-"

"Yes, Mom. You've told the story like 300 times," Kuroo had said. The rest of the family only nodded in agreement. Then, he turned to his father. "Dad, do you enjoy the book?"

"Well, um, yes?"

"Would you say, then...that it's impossible to put down?"

His family had groaned.

In addition to this, Kuroo's lovely soulmate had also given him many other things. Because Kuroo knew they would be meeting on a train, from the age of 13, he'd begun using the Shinkansen regularly. In fact, train fares had become one of his highest expenses. This had only increased when his siblings had left the home to go off to different parts of Japan and he would go visit them, and also when he went off to university himself.

And in one of his regular train rides, he'd met a certain somebody.

"Man," an owl-haired stranger, now his best bro for life, had said, grinning at him curiously, "you sure take the train a lot, huh? I've seen you like, fifty million times this month!"

That had been the start of a lasting friendship.

Kuroo had coincidentally also met Oikawa this way, although it was significantly less pleasant than meeting Bokuto, since he'd accidentally knocked over another of Oikawa's obscene coffee orders all over his shirt:

"You idiot! You fiend! This is my favorite sweater! How fucking dare you? It's made of cashmere goat wool! And it fits with my eyes and hair! It was on clearance too! Do you know how long I waited for it to be on sale because I am a broke student?" he'd screeched, then he had almost proceeded to pummeling him with his gym bag.

But things had eventually worked out, or otherwise they wouldn't have been sitting here in this coffee shop together.

(His friends, just like his siblings had, however, also made fun of him when he'd shown them his soulmate line, howling, laughing and saying that he had probably used some lame pun to try and 'conquer' them.)

In all, Kuroo hadn't met his soulmate yet, didn't know when he would...but he was already far too grateful to them, and knew that he would love them with all his heart.

"Well," he retorted, returning to reality, "it's not confirmed! I probably made some sort of joke, or something. Unlike somebody, who definitely managed to insult and piss off their soulmate in their first try."

Oikawa scowled back.

Oikawa's soulmate line was in the base of his back, below the smooth curve of his spine and right above his hips. It was written in broad, confident and bold strokes, which were also neat in their own way. The font was dark, easily noticeable, and with thick characters: What did you just call me?!

"I did not!"

"Did so."

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

"Did not!"

"Did so!"

"Did so!"

"Did not!"

"Haha, tricked you!" Oikawa smirked, sticking his tongue out.

"Technically you tricked yourself, because you said 'did so' first!" Kuroo smirked in retaliation, sticking his tongue back as well.

"Did I sign up to have two friends or two kindergarteners...?" sighed their Dad.

"You two don't get to talk about it!" sighed Bokuto moodily, interrupting the conversation, laying his head down on the table with a sad hum. "No soulmate line is worse than mine!"

As to make a point, he pulled tank top collar down a little to reveal his tragically befuddling soulmate line, written in the thin, classy and elegant print, just below his collarbone:

Good morning.

Kuroo had really gotten lucky with his great soulmate line and soulmate.

"Come on, Bokuto," their Dad said gently. "I am sure there are a lot of people out there suffering like you are, with vague and difficult soulmate lines just like you. There's no need to be so down about that."

"Mr. Scrumptious Thighs is right," Oikawa said with a nod, ignoring Daichi's scowl. "There are plenty of people out there with normal greetings and phrases like 'hello' as their soulmates. Oh! Actually, I know this guy, Moniwa, who has a friend with an ellipsis as a soulmate line."

The table was quiet.

"Okay, that does suck," said Bokuto sitting back up.

"See? It isn't so bad," continued Oikawa. "C'mon, Kou-chan! There are better things in life to look forward to. Better foods, better drinks, better places, better people. Don't be dragged down by a little shit like Suzuki, who deserves to have a stick shoved up his ass."

"Language," warned their Dad.

(He'd called Daichi 'daddy' once by accident, as a joke, and upon hearing that, Daichi had spit the water he was drinking all over some poor, unsuspecting lady in surprise. Their friends had burst out laughing.)

"Come on, Mr. Scrumptious Thighs, not like you don't curse either!" teased Oikawa.

"Don't call me that."

"Sorry we're late!" exclaimed a cheerful voice, as the door chimed open and two figures came in.

The duo consisted of their friends Ushijima and Tendou. Ushijima was taller, and the definition of personified god: handsome, broad, muscular, and full of incredible gravitas. He carried something in his hands. Tendou, on the other hand, was also tall, but not as much as Ushijima. He was a red-haired man with a bright demeanor and mischievous aura, who strided in confidently. Tendou plopped himself next to Oikawa, while Ushijima silently slipped next to Kuroo. He offered a nod as a greeting and Kuroo waved back cheerfully.

"Traffic was a horror," complained Tendou with a dramatic sigh. "And some punks thought it was a smart idea to drive into a tree. But Wakatoshi still insisted we stop by that donut shop you guys frequent so much to make up for our tardiness."

"Wow, thank you, Ushijima!" beamed their Dad. (He was probably thankful too. After all, Ushijima was probably the second most sane person in their group of friends.)

"Ushijima, aren't you a darling!" exclaimed Kuroo. "What did you bring us-? Holy crap! You basically bought the entire store! You have the entire selection! And..." He gasped. He really did like donuts. He took out a pristinely-packaged white box with gold rimming. "...My favorite! Powdered donuts with jelly filling! Ushijima would you like to be my soulmate?"

"I don't think it works like that," said Ushijima. "But you're welcome."

Gosh, what an oversized goof, Kuroo thought amusedly. He grabbed a donut.

"Still as literal as ever, huh, Ushiwaka-chan?" said Oikawa, with a snort.

The Oikawa-Ushijima hate-love friendship was older than time itself. Oikawa had never told them why he always got so snarky and annoyed with Ushijima, but Kuroo predicted that it might have been something starting from their middle school years. Nevertheless, they didn't mention it, and as long as Oikawa didn't try to kill Ushijima, they were good. Usually, Tendou helped pacify things.

Ushijima blinked confusedly at Oikawa's words.

"Anyways!" Tendou said, clapping his hands together. "How are you doing, Bokuto-kun?"

Bokuto groaned in response, sneaking a hand into the bag to grab a chocolate, cinnamon crumb donut. "What do you think? I loved him. I thought he was the one. And I was wrong!"

Ushijima took a glance at him and then spoke. "A farmer who plants much cotton requires several things, among them a six-month period without frost a year, ample sunshine and fairly dry conditions, and rich soil that is nutrient-filled, so that the seed can thrive. However, not always are these conditions granted, and sometimes your harvest will be lacking. Nevertheless, as a wise and diligent farmer, you must not forget that there are yet other crops out there to plant, such as peanuts, and that they may refill your soil with new nutrients and reap better results for you in the field."

What the heck? Kuroo thought bewilderedly. Agriculture majors and their weird-ass analogies. Even Kuroo's jokes and puns weren't this complex. He flashed a look to Bokuto, who looked just as confused as him.

"Um..." Bokuto turned to look at Tendou.

The red-haired cleared his throat. "Ah! He means that you shouldn't give up just because you had one wrong encounter, and that you are facing so much adversity because you are being tested. If you persevere, which he knows you will, you will be rewarded immensely and you will surely spend the rest of your days satisfiedly with your love. There are still many people out there who could be your soulmate; the possibilities are endless. Learn from this experience, don't repeat your mistakes, and keep looking!"

Oh, wow, thought Kuroo. That was deep like the Mariana Trench.

"Oh," said Bokuto. It was evident that those encouraging words had helped. He smiled weakly at Ushijima. "Thanks, big guy!"

"No problem," Ushijima replied in his usual neutral tone.

"Even if I hate to admit it, Ushiwaka-chan is right. Get over him and use this experience to guide yourself better next time," sighed Oikawa. He turned to look at Tendou. "Anyways. Are you sure you two aren't soulmates? You're basically his translator when he uses his plant analogies."

"Nah! We're just best friends. Wakatoshi is way too nice to be my soulmate," said Tendou with a grin. "My soulmate is much saltier. And Wakatoshi's soulmate line doesn't match mine."

"How do you get his plant analogies though?" asked their Dad curiously. "Even I have trouble deciphering parts of them."

"I didn't get them at first, but when you are roommates with an agricultural science major you begin to pick pace. Think of it as learning a new language!" said Tendou.

"Agriculture is indeed a sacred art," nodded Ushijima sagely.

"Thanks all of you," sighed Bokuto. "I am really grateful for your support. But I think...I might just give up, you know? Quit the chase for a couple of years, release my pains and tensions, try to forget everything-"

"What? No, bro! You can't do that! You ain't a quitter! You just ain't. I know you, you aren't like that! Come on, bro, don't give up! We're all here for you. I bet they are out there, waiting to meet you and just as eager for that magical moment to come," said Kuroo encouragingly. "All you have to do is wait a little more, work a little harder, and find them!"

"Yeah, but..."

Suddenly, Kuroo's cellphone rung. Annoyedly, he went to turn the alarm off when he realized he'd put the alarm for a reason. And he had a class in five minutes that he had no idea he'd had -

"Oh crap!" Kuroo said, standing up abruptly. Everyone looked at him curiously. "So sorry, Brokuto, my best of bros, but I seriously have to go. I have-"

"It's okay," Bokuto said, although he looked sad. "I get it. Go to class. I wouldn't want you getting any repercussions because of my fault."

Kuroo wanted to say something to prove his friend wrong, say that any repercussions were worth it for him, but if he didn't start running now, he would be late for his lecture. And the professor for that class was the Devil. So, sadly, all he could do was give his friend a hug and a reassuring squeeze in the shoulder before he sprinted off the coffee shop.

Hinata showed up three minutes and twenty-four seconds after he texted back to Kenma, apologizing profusely for being 'late'.

Kenma looked at him. "Shoyou, it's all right. Thank you for coming."

He'd met Hinata last year when the latter had been just a freshman. Because he'd gone to the bathroom for a few seconds, he'd missed some vital parts of the university's freshman orientation and had gone into panic mode, running across the whole campus in confusion. After a while of running and looking around though, he'd found Kenma, unsuspecting and devouring a new game he'd just bought, who he had thought was also a freshman like him. This turned out to be wrong, though, but eventually, after some cleared misunderstandings, Kenma and Hinata had become pretty good friends. In fact, Kenma supposed that he could sort of call Hinata...a best friend.

"No problemo!" Hinata exclaimed with a weird accent, grinning ear to ear. "See? That Spanish elective I'm taking is totally paying off! When I go pro and travel to Brazil, or something, I'll totally be able to communicate fluently with the locals."

"...I am pretty sure they speak Portuguese there," Kenma said.

"Huh?" Hinata replied, blinking.

"Nevermind," Kenma continued. They were getting a little off topic here, and he needed to get to his class soon. His stomach rumbled harshly, and he inwardly scowled. What a day he'd had so far. "Do you have the clothes?"

"Ah, yes! Here they are. Wasn't too sure if you'd like what I chose for you, so I just brought you my entire wardrobe!"

Hinata grinned enthusiastically and threw Kenma a duffel bag, heavy with clothes. Kenma fumbled with it at first, but he was able to get it and sturdily tucked it in under his armpit. He might not be the most athletic person, but as a veteran gamer, his eye-hand coordination and dexterity with his hands were not qualities to scoff at.

"Oh. Thank you. You didn't have to," he said. However, in the inside, he was genuinely touched.

Touched, yes, and very perplexed, as he opened the bag and realized what was inside.

Hinata was a volleyball athlete - so good, in fact, that he was currently in the national team. Despite his height, with his hard work and training, he had been able to develop clever strategies and have a solid enough vertical jump to be a good asset to Japanese volleyball. However, he had not yet been recruited by any professional volleyball team, and had not really played in any league, so he lacked experience. He made up for that with a rigorous training schedule, which he followed more religiously than a monk with his prayers.

So his bag clearly reflected the importance of sport in his life - because sports gear was quite literally all that was in there. The majority of that included running shorts, tight running pants, tank tops and shirts with embarrassing mottos, volleyball puns or images.

Kenma froze, slowly feeling his annoyance creep back into him. What had he done to deserve all the unfortunate events of today? He looked up, straight into Hinata's eyes, brown energetic orbs that looked into his eagerly, waiting for his reaction.

"Shoyou."

"Yeah?"

"Do you have anything else besides workout gear?"

Hinata laughed apologetically, scratching the back of his neck.

"I think I have, like, one suit?" he smiled innocently. "For award ceremonies."

Someone help him, Kenma thought. But then, his own style wasn't too great either - it mainly involved an assortment of hoodies, sweatshirts, sweatpants and t-shirts. He valued comfort over look, so he honestly didn't care if colors matched or if any of his body parts stood out. If he stayed comfortable throughout the whole day, not too hot nor too cold, then he thought it was great.

However, he couldn't choose to be picky, so he chose the most modest thing he could find (after ten minutes of looking into a seemingly endless dark hole. Hinata's duffel bag was one of a kind): a white tank top, a red Adidas running jacket and some obscenely tight black yoga pants.

"Thank you, Shoyou," he said, after he'd changed. He was terribly uncomfortable, but this was better than nothing. He was fortunate to have someone like Shoyou who would come almost immediately in his aid. He never imagined he would ever have a true friend, much less someone like him. "Really."

"No big deal!" Hinata said, giving him two thumbs-up. "It's my pleasure. I knew you'd do the same for me, if I were in trouble, too!" He paused. "I hope you're comfortable!"

"Yes, I'm good," Kenma lied. In a record six seconds, he grabbed his sneakers, put them on, grabbed his backpack, and was at the door, opening to let Hinata go out first. Then, he stepped out. "Thank you. I'll be going now."

"OK! I'll see you for dinner, then, Kenma!" Hinata waved cheerfully.

They'd already had plans to go out on a friendly dinner in a new Thai restaurant they'd been meaning to try for a while now in a new part of town. Hinata had moved from Miyagi to Tokyo for university anyways, so he wasn't completely acquainted with the Tokyo environment yet. This was the opposite with Kenma, who'd spent practically his whole life there and actually knew Tokyo quite well, barely going anywhere else.

Kenma nodded, said he would, waved back, and then made his way to his class, trying to run as quickly as possible to avoid the curious stare of onlookers.

Somehow, Kenma was able to get to his class with five minutes of extra time.

He quickly climbed the stairs and went straight to the back row, where he could leave a stress-free, inconspicuous existence in peace. Everybody knew where Kenma sat, and since their first day, nobody had dared take it. Although he was small, Kenma could be deadly if he wanted to. He slipped into his seat, quietly opening his laptop and some notes he had written as his classmates around him chattered.

Honestly, he didn't like writing that much, and he thought all that "feelings" stuff emphasized was overrated, but he'd taken the class because one of his other professors had told him his storyboards were weak.

"You are very good at what you do, Kozume-kun," one of his professors had told him once. "You have a lot of talent. The only thing is...well, every game has a story, and yours is compelling, sure, but it...doesn't come to life. The characters don't seem real or relatable. The dialogue seems cold, almost foreign. There is no spark, no connection. And without that, Kozume-kun, even if you have the best graphics, the best designs, the best scenery...how can anyone enjoy it? Develop your story."

He was studying Computer Science with a minor in animation in order to become a game developer, to make games and entertain people like games had with him. Not only that though. Games...had been able to help him build his character, to build the thin but visible layer of confidence that Kenma had. They had helped him battle through his most difficult moments, through his anxiety, through his insecurity, through his self-doubt. If he were able to do the same for others, Kenma would be more than glad. So even if he had to go through this unpleasant Creative Writing class to achieve his goal, he would do it.

Suddenly, there was a rustle and a person passed by to sit down in the seat next to him.

"Hi, Kenma," Sakishima greeted him. "You look different today."

Kenma grumbled, sitting next to him moodily. "Mm."

Sakishima was a pretty nice person, although in all honesty, Kenma didn't know whether to trust him, so he usually kept his distance. After all, one of Sakishima's friends was Daishou Suguru, notorious for being both a master in playing teacher's favorite and trickery.

("He's like-like Professor Quirrell!" Hinata had told him once about Daishou.

"Like who?"

"You know, from Harry Potter! First movie? You look at him in the face and you're like 'whoa, nice guy' and think he's all nice and good. Especially because he's a teacher at Hogwarts too. But then the dude is like 'gwah!' and takes off his turban and you see the face of the really creepy evil lord in the back and you're like 'woah, oh shit' you know?"

"...Shoyou, do you have your own language?")

Sakishima and Daishou both shared eerie snake-like eyes, which really unnerved Kenma. Every time Sakishima looked at him, even if he was good-natured, he felt awfully pressured. Nevertheless, Kenma thought he was a pretty nice person, and considered him to be one of his tolerable classmates who which he could interact with.

"Bad day?" Sakishima continued, having set up his class materials.

"Something like that."

"Ah, I get it," the blond said. "Like, today I was so hungover from hanging out last night with my friends. I seriously don't even remember anything of what happened last night. I had such a bad headache, and I couldn't think straight. I even asked Haruka-chan if I could touch her boobs by accident! Ah, she really beat me up. She's judo captain too, you know? So you can imagine the bruises I have right now. And I felt a lot of people snickering and looking at me when I passed by them. I must've made some bad decisions last time. Ugh."

Don't talk to me about bad luck, thought Kenma moodily.

"I hope you feel better," he said politely. 

"Thanks, I hope so too," Sakishima groaned. "My head is killing me right now. I don't know how I even got here to class in time."

"Huh," said Kenma, the master conversationalist.

"Are you going to dye your hair again soon?" the blond continued good-naturedly, not deterred by his social skills, shuffling some papers onto his desk. "Your roots are showing ag...oh."

"Oh what?" snapped Kenma, feeling annoyance accumulating from his morning.

"You have something in your hair," Sakishima told him.

Kenma frowned and moved his fingers to where Sakishima directed him, and felt something in his hair. It was sticky, and he could feel clumps of his hair stuck together in a disgusting way. There could only be one thing that could cause such a horror:

Gum.

"I think you can wash it off," the blond hummed, stretching his fingers out to inspect the sticky strands as well. "Otherwise..."

"Otherwise?"

"I think you'll have to cut it off," Sakishima finished.

Kenma was ready to die.

He hated haircuts, more so when he had to do them himself. What had he done to deserve all these unfortunate events, anyways? First, his lack of sleep because of his neighbors. Then, his broken window. Then, his cat hair-filled clothes. Then, his missed breakfast. Now, this? There was no way his situation could get any more ridiculously worse.

"Kozume-kun! Please come over to discuss your work."

Because their class size was pretty small, as this was a Creative Writing class, most people knew what to do. Right now, they were wrapping up a short story assignment they had started three months ago. The process had been tedious, taxing, but Kenma had pulled through and in the end, after seven failed presented ideas, he'd finally convinced his professor that his final outcome sufficiently met her standards. She seemed pretty pleased with it last time they'd spoken, which wasn't too long ago. After all, she was quite hands-on, and liked frequently communicating with her students. Kenma was grateful for her kind nature and flexibility. Many other professors weren't as understanding.
He went down carrying his laptop and pulled down a chair in front of his professor, who sat calmly at her desk, readjusting her blue, thin-rimmed glasses.

"Good morning, Inoue-sensei," Kenma said respectfully. He wasn't a fan of honorifics, honestly, but this was his professor, so he had no choice.
Inoue-sensei smiled at him. "Good morning, Kozume-kun. Last time you dropped by and checked with me, you were progressing nicely, yes? I hope the edits and feedback you received were helpful."

"Yes."

"Wonderful! Well, then, open up! I'd like to see your changes."

Kenma nodded and went to it...but found he couldn't.

He couldn't because he couldn't find the damn document where he'd saved his short story. Kenma frowned, looking through every file and every corner (even the darkest ones) of his laptop, but he could still not find it. He'd double-checked too. Besides, he was a Computer Science major, for heaven's sake. He knew what he was doing with his technology. He blinked back at the screen dumbfoundedly. This had to be some sort of bitter, badly-timed, horrible joke from the universe. Panic swelled and a cold anxiousness crept up his throat, making it hard to breathe. Kenma's hand began trembling a little as he re-typed to make a search -
Inoue-sensei seemed to feel his distress. "What's wrong, dear?"

"I...I can't find it," Kenma said. The words felt hollow, but hit deep. He leaned back, looking lost.

"Oh dear," Inoue-sensei said. "Here, give it over. I am not a huge technology whizz, but perhaps I can take a look?"
Kenma gave his computer to her, but he already knew that she wouldn't be able to find it. He suddenly realized what he had probably done in the past without him realizing it:

He had deleted his short story of 120 pages and major assessment for the quarter.

If he had been ready to die before, he was now ready to spiral into the maw of suffering that awaited him beyond the clutches death.

He was only able to vaguely recall the events that followed. He remembered something about Inoue-sensei being comprehensive, allowing him a month-long extension for him to re-do his entire assignment and re-submit it. However, she said she would still use the same rubric and have the same high criteria. He remembered himself, nodding, and climbing the stairs back to his stairs, looking half-dead. He then sat down, looking at his laptop with a strange sense of fury. Sakishima, next to him, blinked in both surprise and concern.

"Whoa Kenma, you look sick," he said. "Are you okay?"

Kenma gave him a look. "Yes, just peachy."

"Just in time!" huffed Kuroo triumphantly, just as he slipped into his seat, half-panting.

Sitting to his right, Yaku tskked at him, crossing his arms at him disapprovingly. "You shouldn't be coming late to lectures. It's irresponsible."

"I could skip all the lectures," smirked Kuroo, "and still stay at the top of the class."

A vein popped in Yaku's forehead. "Excuse me?"

The two of them, along with their friend Kai, who sat to Yaku's right, were currently sitting in their usual middle-row seats just in time for their lecture. Just seconds after Kuroo had ran in and managed to slip into the lecture hall, the professor had closed the doors. He really did have great timing.

Kai sighed. "Well, unlike you two, I actually have to stay late at night to understand the content. This particular test was pretty brutal, so I hope that at least my score is passing."

"Could it be that you're worried?" asked Kuroo incredulously.

Kai was known to have the ability of being relaxed and put-together all the time - unlike Kuroo, who was almost always a hot mess (but he was a hot one, so it didn't matter). It was as if he had no troubles.

"I have some trivial concerns," Kai said calmly, shrugging. "As long as I'm alive though, things will work out on their own. So, I'm not really worried."

Yaku and Kuroo exchanged looks.

"I wish I could be that calm. But with university and stress from my shift at the coffee shop, that seems impossible. You could become a monk, or something," Yaku suggested amusedly.

"He certainly has the hair! Or lack thereof," cackled Kuroo.

Kai rolled his eyes. "Ha ha, you guys."

Their professor shouted a little, marking the beginning of the class, and everybody shuffled to their seats obediently. As they did so, their professor grabbed a large pile of papers and began walking around, giving them out to all the students. Their class was relatively medium-sized, so this didn't take very long. Before everyone knew it, they had their tests back, and all the students were murmuring energetically to everybody while the professor went back to her place to begin her lecture.

"Hm...86," Kai said, shrugging. "Not bad, I guess. What about you guys?"

"Let me see...oh, 95!" Yaku exclaimed.

"That's great! Congrats!" Kai beamed. He high-fived Yaku.

Kuroo, however, said nothing, and had his head bowed low. His bedhead covered his face, but while Yaku narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously, Kai smiled at him cheerfully.

"What did you get, Kuroo?" he asked.

Suddenly, Kuroo whipped his head up and grinned his sly cat-like smile, finally revealing his true colors. He grabbed his test papers and showed them triumphantly in front of his friends: 98.

"Woah, that's amazing! Could you help me out next time we have a test?" Kai said.

"Sure thing-"

"Fuck you," Yaku snapped moodily, crossing his arms against his chest.

"You wish, honey," Kuroo cooed back, fluttering his eyebrows back. "Maybe when spicy curry is better than sweet curry...which is, never."

"Haha, sure thing. And when that moment comes, I'll be sure to puke my guts out - just like I do when I taste the monstrosity that is sweet curry."

Kuroo gasped dramatically. "You wouldn't dare!"

"Geniuses, lower your voices," Kai said, rolling his eyes. "You keep out of trouble and you double your choices. The lecture is starting, so I suggest you two focus."

"Mifune-sensei is chill, don't worry," Kuroo assured him.

"Only you'd call her that," Yaku snorted. "You're basically her favorite student."

"Not true!"

"Last time I was almost late because I forgot my notebook, when she was locking the door, she sent me death glares," Kai shuddered. "Darth Vader style, you know? Like she was trying to use the Force to choke me into not coming almost-late ever again."

"Talking about being late, why were you late this time?" asked Yaku, looking at Kuroo.

Kuroo sighed. "My friend Bokuto. Remember I talked about him? Well, he got dumped today."

"Again?"

Kai elbowed Yaku in the shoulder.

"What he meant," he said, turning to look at Kuroo, "was wow, that is horrible. And it truly is. Hasn't it been 45 consecutive dumps?"

Kuroo nodded solemnly. "It's been hard on him. I don't know if he'll recover completely from this particular one, though. We were all pretty confident that Suzuki might have really been the one...but I guess we were wrong."

"Bokuto does have a difficult soulmate line," Yaku pointed out, as always the voice of reason. "When people have those, it's never easy for them. Realistically, he could spend several more decades trying to find his soulmate and never succeeding. The most we can do in these situations is to support them. You are doing what you can, Kuroo."

"He's strong. He'll pull through it," Kai smiled consolingly.

Kuroo only sighed, leaning back in his chair and running a hand through his bedhead. "Yeah, thanks you guys, I know he'll pull through, but I wish I could only do more to help him..."

"I'm sure you're doing a lot," Yaku said. "Don't be hard on yourself, idiot."

Kai coughed. "Says the person who is currently involved in a romantic plot worthy of a k-drama."

Yaku glared at him.

Kai grabbed his notebook and began writing notes from the teacher's current lecture, smiling innocently and pretending Yaku's eyes weren't trying to burn a hole into his skull.

"True!" laughed Kuroo. "So..."

"So?" snapped Yaku.

"So," Kuroo asked, "how are things with the guy?"

Kai paused in his note-taking, turning to look at them interestedly.

"...Good," Yaku mumbled, not willing to meet his eyes.

"Sounds good to me," Kuroo replied sarcastically.

Yaku gave him a look. "Don't start."

"I don't mean to intrude in your situation," Kai whispered, as their professor spoke, "but my piece of advice is to try and take the reins of the situation. If you asked me, I think things are progressing all too quickly."

Kuroo hummed thoughtfully. "He's proposed to you, what, twelve times already?"

Yaku flushed. "...Twenty-three."

Kuroo low-whistled. "Wow."

"Right. There is no question about this guy's devotion, but he needs to let you think. Besides, we all know what he is. If you were to agree to be with him..." Kai trailed off quietly.

"We just want you to be safe," Kuroo said, cutting in. Yaku blinked at him. "Kai is way too polite to tell you straight up, but this guy is a fucking yakuza. This guy may have been weird-courting you Edo period style for months now and act like an over-sized puppy, but in reality, you have no idea what he's done, or even who he really is. Besides, the yakuza life isn't a playground or anything. Have you not seen any movies or shows?"

Yaku scowled. "I'm well-informed of my surroundings; of course I've seen and read stuff about yakuza."

"I like Sonatine," Kai murmured interestedly, "the music is really good too. It got a Japanese Academy Award for that."

"Ah, really? Me too! But it was Joe Hisaishi who composed the music, so obviously it was going to get an Academy Award. I mean, have you seen his work for Studio Ghibli-?"

"Kuroo-kun, if you are so invested in speaking, especially to Yaku-kun and Nobuyuki-kun, would you be so kind and tell the class what the character's thoughts are during this text excerpt?"

Next to him, Yaku and Kai froze. The professor was suddenly glaring at the three of them, and the entire class turned to blink curiously at them. The pressure was high, however, Kuroo only took one quick look at the presentation slide on the board and then looked back at the professor, standing there expectantly.

He coughed and cleared his throat, flashing their professor a charming smile. "Of course, Professor. The character is currently undergoing an internal existential crisis. The choosing of the fruits represents the inner turmoil he is going through, mainly pertaining to his future. He is unsure of what tomorrow may present him, but he understands that there are already two carved out possibilities for him. The apple represents stability, or his choice to stay home, uphold his family's tradition, and take care of his parents with filial piety. The orange represents opportunity, or his choice to continue his education abroad and maximize his intellectual talents, although this would mean isolation from his community. However, the character notices there are other fruits in the bowl and eventually chooses a banana, simply because he is hungry for it. Choosing the banana is symbolic because this means he chooses to create his own new path despite of any repercussions. This later makes him question the true nature of choice, and whether we even have liberty in this world."

The class was quiet and blinked in surprise.

"...Yes, that is a generally accurate interpretation of the text. Thank you for being so kind and finally gracing us with your attention, Kuroo-kun," scoffed the Professor, looking at him.

"Oh, but I am always this kind, Professor!" smiled Kuroo. Some other students laughed.

The Professor only looked at him, as if to say, Don't press your luck, son, and continued her lecture, not turning to glance their way again during the whole class.

"I fucking hate you, you know that?" spat Yaku.

Kuroo only smirked and winked. "Nah, you love me."

After his disastrous Creative Writing class, Kenma had borrowed a beanie from Taketora to cover up his gum-tainted hair. Then, he had quickly bought some bread from a nearby bakery, consumed it voraciously, and dropped by "Karasuno Flowers" to spend some of his free time. The boss he had neglected to play yesterday because of his neighbors was proving to be increasingly difficult. As the frustrating 'YOU LOST' music filled the flower, marking his fifth consecutive defeat, he muttered moodily and bit into a slice of apple pie, which he had also bought from the bakery. He hated losing, and he usually didn't, but today it seemed that his bad luck would never stop.

"You have got to be kidding me," Kenma grumbled moodily.

His friend, Akaashi, was sitting next to him, sporting a smirk. "Shouldn't you be saying-?"

"Keiji, please, don't."

"-'You have cat to be kitten me?'"

"I hate you."

Kenma rolled his eyes at his freind, giving a small sigh. Typical of Akaashi to be amused by his annoyance. He knew Akaashi wasn't the type of person to have schadenfreude, but he sure did have his own sense of humor.

He also knew he wasn't the most open of people, and at first, when he'd met Akaashi, who had been forced to share Kenma's table in a full library, he hadn't thought much of the other. Secretly, Akaashi was practically what he had wanted to be when he was younger, (before he'd learned not to care about appearances) - beautiful, graceful, effortlessly intelligent and popular. Even though he was quiet and observative like Kenma, Akaashi seemed to flow easily with the crowd, being bold and mysterious in comparison to Kenma's shy and bland. He was desirable, while Kenma was an outcast. Thus, he'd been surprised when Akaashi had begun talking to him, trying to know him and become his friend, even after that faithful day in the library.

Because he'd been the victim of many pranks and social misfortunes in the past, he had been hesitant to let Akaashi in his personal circle, convinced it was some sort of dare, but eventually, he'd started trusting Akaashi to see who he really was in the inside, beneath the layers of the cool, collected persona he'd forged for himself in the university: an incredibly nice person. Akaashi was full of friendly love, full of kindness, full of care, and was always there to offer quiet, if not solid, support. So, after months of interaction, in which Akaashi had joined the ranks of Hinata and Taketora as a 'friend', he'd decided to tell him his soulmate line.

...A choice he regretted with every fiber of his being.

Kenma didn't completely judge him though. Even he agreed that his soulmate line was both measures of hilarious and horrifyingly cringeworthy. Besides, he knew Akaashi truly meant no harm.

His soulmate line was found in the inner side of his upper arm, just next to his right armpit, written in the slanted, thin and surprisingly neat letters of his soulmate. He usually covered it up by wearing long-sleeve shirts or by wearing his highly favored hoodies, and was currently wearing Hinata's Adidas running jacket to do so, but moodily, he knew there was no way to deny the permanent, what had been engraved into his skin since his thirteenth birthday:

Hey there, how much do we want to bet that I can charm you over with just a handful of awesome cat puns?

And consequently, there was no way to stop Akaashi's cat puns.

Kenma re-started the level he was on and resumed fighting his boss, ignoring Akaashi all the while.

Suddenly, the owner of the flower shop, and his friend Suga, came down the stairs and winked amusedly.

"Akaashi-kun! Are you fur real? Don't tell me you made another cat pun?" he said, bringing a tray of freshly-made cucumber, ham and cheese sandwiches.

Kenma's hungry stomach rumbled quietly.

Suga (it was Sugawara, but he insisted he should just call him that) hadn't been able to attend college, as his mother and only living relative had gotten dreadfully sick shortly after his high school graduation. Against her insistence, he had decided to not go to university (instead, he was taking an online course from a nearby community college) and had picked up several jobs until eventually scraping enough to buy the two-story building "KARASUNO FLOWERS" currently was in. To save money, he was using the first floor as his flower shop and his second floor as his living quarters. Soon, the place had become a frequent hangout rendezvous for the three of them.

"I take it back," muttered Kenma, still not looking up from his game, "I hate both of you."

"Such negative feelings, Kenma!" admonished Suga cheerfully. "C'mon, don't be like that, and have one of these sandwiches to eat. It's important to eat all three meals of a day. After all - you did eat breakfast, right?"

"Yes, mother," Kenma lied, rolling his eyes. If he told Suga what had actually happened to him that morning, he'd never hear the end of it.

Although technically, he wasn't lying. The piece of bread and half the apple pie slice he had just eaten could count as breakfast, no?

"Kenma is right in that area though, Suga-san," said Akaashi casually. "You do have quite a...nurturing nature."

Suga gave a little laugh. "I suppose. I didn't even realize it was 'motherly' until one of my old team members mentioned it. My mama was always sickly, so I had to help around the house a lot with domestic stuff...and before I knew it, I was baking things and weaving scarves for everybody!" He paused and looked out of a window, eyes somewhere else.

"But I do think my soulmate will appreciate it."

Suga's soulmate line was in the back of his neck and he wore it proudly, going out in fresh t-shirts and short clothes without the fear of it being seen, despite some people taking it as something extremely private. Although it was occasionally wrapped around behind a stylish blue or silver scarf, the words, written in neat, long and professional-looking font, was: I deeply apologize for having you take care of my son all day - how can I make it up to you?

"I never expected you to be soulmates with someone who already had children," admitted Akaashi.

Suga laughed. "Me neither! But well, I've always loved children."

With some sort of miracle, Kenma finally managed to beat his boss. He almost shouted out in joy - but that would be embarrassing. It was probably the best thing that had happened him today, so he gently put his PSP down. He snuck a sandwich from the tray, trying to dissimulate how hungry he really was, and listened to the flow of Suga and Akaashi's conversation, analyzing the situation carefully.

"So, Akaashi, what are you thinking of doing for your birthday?" asked Suga. "It is tomorrow! You're almost 20 years old!"

Akaashi sighed. "As always, my parents want to host another large party for me, even though I insisted I wanted to do something casual this year. What's worse is that they are making it a masquerade ball."

"No doubt wanting to spice up your love life," commented Kenma.

"You have no idea. They're even worse than Suga-san," sighed Akaashi. "They are convinced that this year is my year and that I am going to find my soulmate and have heirs for the conglomerate, that sort of thing. They want to 'speed up' the process by finding my soulmate in the masquerade ball, even though I know they are hoping that I match up with one of their friends' kids, just like they did."

"They shouldn't try to speed up something that comes in its time," frowned Kenma.

"That's true, but I also want to say something in my defense. I'd like to argue in my case that I have not once tried to intervene in your love life, nor have I tried to fuel it!" exclaimed Suga.

Akaashi and Kenma turned to look at him unimpressedly.

"What about the fervent campaign you've launched to try and get me to use Matcha!, Suga-san?"

"It's a good resource! You should definitely give it a-"

"Suga-san. I am not going to use Matcha! to 'improve' my love life."

"I am just saying that it's not a bad option. It even worked perfectly for my friend!" Suga said. Then he paused. "Even though it was more of an indirect medium, since Asahi and Noya didn't exactly meet - but well, as I was saying, it has a high accuracy rate! Everyone who's used it has told me they've gotten good results."

"That doesn't mean it works for everybody."

"I was just suggesting," huffed Suga. "Sorry for trying to help my friend here! It's been forever since you've seen somebody, and I want you to find love, Akaashi. In fact, Kenma, you should use it t-!"

I don't want to find my soulmate any time soon, thought Kenma, if they are going to use a cat pun to try and win me over. And especially not through online dating.

"No thanks, I think I'll pass," Kenma said.

"What about you, Suga-san?" asked Akaashi. "What about your love life?"

For a while, Suga looked mildly shocked, taken aback. However, after a few blinks and an awkward laugh, he flashed them both a shy smile. "M-Mine?"

"Yes, Suga-san. You ought not to be so selfless all the time. What about your love? What about your happiness? That means something too," said Akaashi. Kenma nodded quietly to himself. He was right. "It's always good to look out for others, but you should look after yourself too!"

Suga was a little speechless, surprised, but quickly recovered. "My love life? Well, I'd never really taken much - oh, look at the time!"

Kenma, and probably Akaashi, both knew that was probably the cheapest trick in the book to change the topic, but Akaashi did have to look at the time. Quickly and frantically, he excused himself and quickly left for a class. Once he did, and it was just the two of them, Kenma looked at his silver-haired friend quietly.

"Suga, Keiji is right," he said. "You should go out too. You deserve to be loved."

Suga sighed, turning to him with a sad smile. "...I know he's right, Kenma, but I am simply afraid."

"Of?"

"My soulmate sounds so wonderful, and already has a child of their own. Or many, even! They probably will expect me to help them out, and I do want to. But I am afraid that...they will not be satisfied with me," he explained. He sighed. "Here I am, working instead of focusing on my studies, trying to keep my sickly mother alive. They probably think I'm a burden."

"Your traits are admirable. You are not a burden," Kenma insisted.

"Ah, that's what I'm afraid of," Suga said. "I'm afraid that whoever my soulmate is...they aren't as thoughtful and sweet as you are."

Kenma thought of his Creative Writing class, with Sakishima. Although his hair was now safely hidden under Taketora's beanie, he thought in dread about having to cut it. When he was smaller, and his mother had to take him to the barber's, he'd always cry and throw a tantrum to not go. He'd been scared. Mostly, scared of having to go to a public space crawling full with other human beings, but also scared that his haircut would end up worse than his original hair (which he always quite liked, mind you).

Later, he discovered that sentiment was an actual term, and in Japanese: age-otori. It was the state of looking worse after a haircut.

Perhaps finding a soulmate was like that too. Fate declaring you are compatible was one thing, but actually having to learn to love and to co-exist with another human...was another. In a way, Kenma understood where Suga came from, and sort of felt that way too. He didn't want to find his soulmate yet, but he didn't know how they would be, how they would change Kenma, how they would change Kenma's life. Kenma wasn't too prepared for a change, or rather, to have to adjust after the change.

"Suga," Kenma said quietly, after having given this a thought, "if it helps in any way, honestly, I think everybody is afraid of meeting their soulmate too."

Later, Kenma was on the train to go meet up with Hinata to eat dinner at the Thai restaurant like they'd agreed to. Shoyou was currently texting him enthusiastically. The orange-haired student's fingers had to be from another planet, because the texts came non-stop, coated heavily with emojis and bright stickers.

This was particularly helpful because a large crowd of people was getting on the train. Feeling uncomfortable, he crowded next to a corner, leaning against the wall. Texting Shoyou was a great distraction though, and quite helpful. However, he suddenly got some texts from Akaashi and he opened them to take a look.

[sent at 3:45 P.M.] hey kenma

[sent at 3:45 P.M.] hi

[sent at 3:45 P.M.] congrats

[sent at 3:45 P.M.] you know??

[sent at 3:45 P.M.] i had a feeling

[sent at 3:45 P.M.] ...

[sent at 3:45 P.M.] oh wow

[sent at 3:45 P.M.] remind me not to think of anything private or too personal when i'm around you. when did you become a psychic?

[sent at 3:46 P.M.] well, am i right? so how is this guy?

[sent at 3:46 P.M.] ah

[sent at 3:46 P.M.] i think he is too much to describe just in words

[sent at 3:46 P.M.] but well, i'll try to be brief. he's certainly an interesting character. he has this huge, gelled, really complex horned-owl style hairstyle going on and he is really hyperactive and energetic and really way too loud, but i am not surprised. he is no less extravagant and unique than i expected him to be. i mean, i really don't know him, but i am really excited to! he seems the really sweet and goofy type, and he is such an embarrassing romantic. can u believe that he asked me out on a date right now while kneeling down? i think there's much more to him though. like a more serious and focused side that he hides and stuff. i also think he plays volleyball, because his bag is mizuno. i mean, that could mean anything but i am sure he plays volleyball because he already has something on his knees - are those leggings?? or kneepads? i don't even know. might as well find out in the future.

[sent at 3:46 P.M.] oh?

[sent at 3:46 P.M.] you seem to like him

[sent at 3:46 P.M.] you think??

[sent at 3:46 P.M.] yeah. well, there's the fact that you've written more in that 1 text than u have all year 2 anyone.

[sent at 3:46 P.M.] that's not true!!

[sent at 3:46 P.M.] but also, i think you genuinely like him. u two sound like polar opposites, but 'opposites attract' I guess? u seem to really admire him, even though u just met, and i think u will enjoy getting to know him even more throughout the course of your life.

[sent at 3:47 P.M.] wow kenma that's really sweet. thanks.

[sent at 3:47 P.M.] whatever makes you happy

[sent at 3:47 P.M.] are you going on a train now?

[sent at 3:47 P.M.] yeah i'm done with all my classes for the day, so i am taking one to eat dinner w/ my friend shoyou

[sent at 3:47 P.M.] maybe you'll meet your soulmate in that train today

[sent at 3:47 P.M.] i really doubt that, keiji

[sent at 3:47 P.M.] today might just be your day of luck

[sent at 3:47 P.M.] i haven't been having the best day today tbh

[sent at 3:47 P.M.] and i'm not in the mood for anything frivolous

[sent at 3:47 P.M.] so if our encounter were today, it would be pretty badly timed

[sent at 3:47 P.M.] hm. would you say it would be...

[sent at 3:47 P.M.] keiji, no, please

[sent at 3:47 P.M.] ...cat-astrophic?

[sent at 3:47 P.M.] bye keiji

[sent at 3:48 P.M.] i cannot talk to u right now

[sent at 3:48 P.M.] go spend time with your soulmate

He put his phone in his pocket, looking around. He could breathe a little more easily now, as the train was only relatively occupied and many people had gotten off in the previous stop. It was much more empty now, and people were dispersed evenly. 

So, Akaashi had found his soulmate? It was due time. Actually, when they'd been talking back in Suga's flower shop, Kenma had had the feeling that today Akaashi would get lucky today, especially right before his birthday. Call it intuition, a sixth sense. Anyways, Kenma felt happy for him, he really did, although he wasn't too fond of openly expressing his opinion. Akaashi definitely deserved it, especially after so many years. Fate definitely had a sense of humor, Kenma mused, to put some guy that was personality-wise the opposite of Akaashi as his soulmate. It would be interesting to see that happen. He hoped the very best for them, right now and always. Perhaps, if he recharged socially, he would find the energy to meet this person. He would quite like that.

His thoughts were interrupted, however, when he felt a large, looming presence behind him. Before Kenma could turn on his survival instincts though, and turn around to see if this was a pervert or a criminal, the person spoke.

"Hey there, how much do we want to bet that I can charm you over with just a handful of awesome cat puns?" a low, attractive male voice said above him, breathing just centimeters above Kenma's sensitive neck.

Kenma's eyes widened. His breath tightened. He almost dropped his phone right there and there.

Oh hell no.