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“Here’s the thing,” Catman is saying as he leans his elbows on the railing. The silly little novelty ears on his headband twitch in the wind; thank goodness Asahi vetoed the tail for safety reasons. The midafternoon sun highlights the ridiculous fit of his outfit, but by now Daichi’s grown used to the sight, so it doesn’t leave him reeling anymore. Most of his colleagues are dressed in form-fitting fightwear all the time. It would be embarrassing if Daichi still blushed like a schoolboy every time Catman strolled by with those long, long legs. “If you do wall to wall mirrors-”
“No, absolutely not.”
“C’mon, you said the place looked cramped! A mirror really opens a hallway up, so if you get a bunch of them-”
“I don’t want to live in a fun house,” Daichi laughs, shoving Catman away with an elbow. The wind brushes against their faces like the hand of a lover might, ruffling Catman’s nest of hair tenderly. Below them, the streets are busy with the traffic of typical urban life, except for the one they already have blocked off for “road work”. Their home isn’t the biggest or brightest city, but it’s theirs, and therefore it’s their duty to defend it.
“I don’t see why not; you’re already a clown-”
“You’re really looking for a fight aren’t you?”
“With you, sweetheart? Never,” Catman says as he slides back to his spot with a wink. Even with his height, he isn’t gangly at all. Each of his movements is always polished with poise, no errant missteps or wasted motion in the stride of his feet or the twirl of his wrists. Daichi’s been in the game just as long, but he doesn’t have that effortless grace, just his immovable spirit. It’s one of the many reasons he finds it hard to look away from Catman, who smiles like a thief but moves like living artwork.
“I find that hard to believe. Didn’t you throw a grenade at me last week?”
“One: it was only a smoke bomb. Two: I thought you would absorb it!”
“How am I supposed to absorb smoke?” Daichi asks incredulously.
“Excuse me,” says the deep voice in their earpieces before Catman can defend his flawed logic.
“Yes, Wakatoshi-kun!” Catman answers brightly, as he always does when their handler converses with them. Ushijima is the ideal man to have running mission control. He’s calm, collected, and unintentionally hilarious. The only bad thing about him is the deplorable hero names he gave them all, though by now it’s kind of grown on everybody, even the general public. Daichi’s seen plenty of people wearing Catman and Throw Guy merch while out doing his daily errands. He considered buying a Catman shirt as well when he saw Tanaka’s Guardian hoodie, and then felt mortified that he even entertained the thought.
“Iron Hand has requested that you stop flirting over comms,” Ushijima relays, and they both scoff.
“Iron Hand should mind his own business and take care to patrol properly,” Catman says, rolling his eyes behind his domino mask.
“Why are we sharing you with him again?” Daichi asks, mostly because he knows it’ll egg on the petty rivalry between his two colleagues that’s been building ever since Iron Hand first stole Catman’s lunch out of the communal fridge. It was a top quality convenience store bento, too. Iron Hand ate it in the briefing room without ever breaking eye contact with Catman, who looked like he was three seconds from flipping the whole conference table. Unforgivable. Daichi is generally a proponent for peace, but their prank war brings him too much serotonin to put a stop to it.
“Because Keiji’s still in a meeting,” Iron Hand snaps before Ushijima can answer. “He should be out in five, but even that might be enough time for me to choke to death on your PDA.”
“Aw, don’t be jealous just because no one wants to partner with you on patrol. You’ll find somebody one day.”
“Your yowling is insufferable — I don’t know how X deals with it.”
“Well, I do tune some of it out,” Daichi admits, and Catman gasps dramatically in response.
“And here I was thinking we were the best partnership on the team! Forget it, next time I’m asking Kita-san to put me with Owlaser instead.”
“You do that,” Daichi says right before Ushijima tells them that the mark is on the move. They both straighten instantaneously and get into position above the alleyway.
“Remember, safety is the priority. We want to grab him without any casualties.”
“Right.” Daichi hitches a thumb at the grappling hook on Catman’s hip. “You wanna hitch a ride, or are you going down the long way?”
“Baby, I never take the long way down when you’re around,” Catman replies, already holding his arms out. Daichi ignores the little flip of his stupid heart and goes to pick him up.
In the background they can hear Iron Hand’s “God, when will it stop,” and Ushijima’s firm, “Please engage in your licentious behavior later, the mark is leaving through the back door.”
“Yessir, heading down now,” Daichi says as he lifts Catman into his arms and leaps off the building in one bound. It’s a good thing that Asahi’s suits are windproof, because the air sure whips at them as they plummet past ten stories. He launches his teammate into the air right before impact, and Catman lands neatly on his feet and takes off running.
It’s a simple mission: grab the scientist before anyone else who wants him can, whether they be cops or ne’er-do-wells. Catman’s in charge of securing the mark, and Daichi’s the guy stopping the ones with the guns. Hopefully there won’t be so many guns this time. He’s not a fan of artillery. Even if getting shot doesn’t hurt, he’s always afraid of idiots spraying bullets everywhere and hitting innocent civilians.
“X, three coming up the street. I’m heading in,” Catman says through Daichi’s earpiece as he slips through time and vanishes out of sight. Right to business, as usual. Catman flows seamlessly between hero and mentor and friend, always ready to bear whatever burden comes his way. That’s what Daichi likes about him, besides his stupid jokes and sharp brain and dedication to the people of their city.
His composure in the face of fear. His endless patience with civilians and victims and emergency workers. His cunning but kind personality, his bright smile, his calloused and steady hands.
There’s a lot to like.
Daichi turns his attention to the armored truck barreling down the road toward him and braces himself for a fight. Time to get to work.
--
Despite a minor firefight, no one leaves this mission any worse for the wear. Kuroo gets the scientist to the designated safe house, where one of their affiliates is waiting to set the man up with his new life. By the time he gets back to base, he’s saved a few pedestrians and stopped a couple robberies, and night has fallen. Guardian and Throw Guy are on evening patrol today, so Kuroo’s off the clock until tomorrow, but he takes his time getting cleaned up at base instead of hurrying home to his empty apartment. Saves him a little on the water bill, and the probability of conning a warm meal out of Kita-san is better than his chances with his refrigerator.
Plus, X is here.
He’s sitting at their one conference table, his feet propped up on one of the other beat-up chairs as he scrolls through his phone. Every so often he scooches another centimeter to the left to avoid the weird leak in the ceiling because their base isn’t as high-tech and fancy as the public assumes it is. The training room and the monitoring room are the nicest in the whole building; each of their personal rooms are glorified closets only used when they need a place to stay in between missions. All their budget goes into their suits, tech, and healthcare, and any extra money they make off merch goes into the rainy day fund.
“Whoo, high-five,” Kuroo says as he perches on the edge of the table, waving his hand in X’s face.
“Did you smear mustard on your palm again?” X asks without looking up from whatever social media app he’s scrolling through.
“No, I picked mayo this time.”
“Disgusting,” X laughs, and slaps his hand against Kuroo’s. “Any problems on your end?”
“Nah, got him out cleanly. They already had his new identity and stuff ready. How about you?”
“Had two groups to deal with, but no real trouble. I did join Iron Hand for patrol afterwards-”
Kuroo groans with exaggerated irritation and drops down into the chair next to X’s feet. “Do I even wanna know what slander he spread about me?”
“Probably not,” X says as he puts away his phone. “You angling for dinner too? I think Kita-san left our allowance in the candy jar. I was kinda in the mood for soba, if you wanna come with.” He smiles at Kuroo like they’re sharing a secret. X always does that — always leans his head in close when he’s telling you something, always treats his joint patrols like a partnership, always keeps his eyes steady on whoever’s speaking, and stops others from interrupting. It’s just the way he makes people feel, as if they’re the whole universe and more, worth the weight of his undivided attention.
Kuroo can slow time down to microseconds, pull the strands of reality apart so that the world hangs around him like raindrops suspended in glass. In moments of weakness, he wishes he could stop the world around X as well, to steal just one more second of that attention for only himself.
But X isn’t his. X is everybody’s. The people’s hero, the impenetrable pillar of their city. So Kuroo keeps those thoughts to himself in the lost stitches of time that only he can see.
“Darling, I would never turn down a dinner date with you,” Kuroo teases, meaning his words far more than he can ever hope to convey. In the three or so years they’ve been doing this little song and dance, X has never taken his flirting seriously. Sure, he’ll joke around with Kuroo, but nothing ever goes anywhere. It’s probably better that way, though it doesn’t stop Kuroo’s heart from fracturing with spidersilk thin cracks.
As expected, they find pity money hidden among the Milky candy. The soba place is fifteen minutes away but the walk there feels like only four. It’s a hole in the wall, and there are few customers at this time of night, so no one disturbs them during their meal. With the two of them tucked up against the wall under the honey warm glow of the single lamp overhead, the rest of the world fades to the background as they while away an hour together just talking about things of the utmost unimportance. By the time they leave, the city is sleepy and slow, and they take the long way back to base.
Kuroo isn’t such a romantic that he remembers all their firsts together. Their lives are too fast-paced for that. But he does recall the first time they went out for team dinner, and how they’d gone rooftop hopping afterwards. It’s still one of his favorite memories of X, besides all their mid-patrol banter and the time X almost threw him into an ice cream truck, and the first time they ever met.
That would be pretty hard to forget, considering X almost ran him over in the hallway while tripping around in the awkward boots Asahi first threw him in while putting his outfit together.
“Whoa there,” Kuroo said, catching himself an armful of prime grade beef. Their eyes met behind their masks, hazel gold to brown, and Kuroo found himself wondering if all people caught up in clumsy meet cutes like this also felt like they had major heartburn in the moment.
“I am so sorry,” X babbled, straightening himself. Instinctively, Kuroo almost tried to prevent him from leaving his grasp, and then realized that was fucking weird. “Still not used to the new clothes.”
“Haha, yeah, it’s pretty different from what I used to wear,” Kuroo agreed, reaching up to poke at his fake cat ears. That was also weird. Why was he so damn embarrassing?? “Uh, I’m Catman. Welcome to the team!” he announced, as if he had any seniority. Sure, he’d been one of the first people recruited, but the whole team was due to begin operating at the same time.
Still, X smiled broadly at him while accepting his handshake.
“I’m X. Do you shapeshift, or…?”
Kuroo blanched, feeling extra silly about his outfit now. “No, I, uh- time dilation. I can slow time for everybody but myself for a short bit. Here, I’ll show you. Don’t look away, not even for a fraction of a second.” X nodded, staring hard at Kuroo, who drew the world to a stop for long enough to take one of the framed paintings of farmland off the walls (Kita-san’s sense of interior design, he assumed).
“Okay, I’m watching- wait, what?” X took a step back in surprise at the painting that seemingly blipped into existence in Kuroo’s hands. “Wow, okay, that’s pretty damn impressive,” he laughed. “But what does that have to do with cats?”
“The cat thing- I just thought it would be kinda fun to be cat-themed and Wakatoshi-kun ran with it. You?”
“Impact absorption. When I get hit with anything, I just absorb the force. It doesn’t energize me though- it sort of just nullifies the blow? Here, punch me as hard as you can.”
“Uh, are you sure?”
“Yeah, give me your best shot. I promise it won’t hurt either of us.”
Kuroo replaced the painting and then stepped forward to give X a hearty wallop in the chest, and found that it felt like punching a wall of thick pillows, the impact not shifting X even in the slightest.
“Wow, weird. It isn’t like you’re soft, exactly, but it also felt about as effective as trying to fight a building.”
“Yeah, so Ushijima named me X because, you know.” He crossed his arms in an X shape. “Bzzt. Your attacks don’t do anything to me. At least, that’s what I think he was trying to convey?” he said, making the usual face that accompanied any response to Ushijima’s cute oddities.
“I mean, honestly, it’s a way cooler name than mine,” Kuroo laughed. “Maybe I should ditch the cat thing before I have to commit to it. Asahi might kill me, though.”
“No, don’t! I like it,” X blurted, before flushing adorably pink. “Uh, I mean, it’s kind of fun, you know? You and Owlaser have the best visuals, and Iron Hand too- I think it’s good for the team image to have some really eye-catching members so citizens know who to turn to for help. But if you’re really opposed to it-”
“I’m not. I’ll keep the aesthetic. I think it’ll help our merch sales, anyway.”
“You’re thinking that far ahead?”
“Well, heroes in other cities do it, so I kind of assumed? Might as well capitalize on the fame for the band-aid fund.”
“Don’t call it the band-aid fund; you’ll jinx us,” X said, grinning. “I think some of the others are gathering up for Kita-san’s briefing; should we head over?”
Kuroo successfully did not startle at the use of ‘we,’ and nodded like an overinflated balloon. “Yeah, let’s go.” And so they meandered over to the conference room together, in what would be the first instance of many.
Now, X walks Kuroo to his tiny room, like the gentleman he is, even though they both know they’re both going to leave soon. Kuroo makes a big show of unlocking his door anyway and jerking his thumb toward the entrance.
“You wanna come up for stale biscuits? I’ve got chocolate and strawberry.”
“Alright, I’m heading out; I’ve got the midshift downtown tomorrow.” X gives a sloppy salute, and spins on his heel instead of responding to Kuroo’s teasing.
“What, no kiss goodnight?” Kuroo asks next, because his intelligence has only been on a catastrophic downslide since the day he was evicted from his mother’s womb.
As expected, X gives him a flat look.
As expected in a reality that only exists in filmy, sun-drenched daydreams, X then winks and says, “Not until the third date. Be a good kitty and go home early today. No staying up late to rewatch villain footage.”
“Anything for you,” Kuroo answers blankly, his hand still hanging in a lazy wave. It slowly droops back down to his side as X walks off. Did that just happen? He pinches himself to check, but the pinprick of pain isn’t enough proof.
He reaches blindly down toward the space where he knows his little desk is and grabs the first item his hands touch: a dry-erase marker he filched from Yacchan’s lab.
“X, incoming!” he calls, before whipping the marker down the corridor. X sidesteps it cleanly and swivels around to see Kuroo peeking out at him from his room.
X gives him a “what the fuck” look, before bending to pick up the marker and slinging it back at Kuroo, who stands still and allows it to bounce off his chest. Ouch. Okay, so he’s still awake.
“Stop picking fights and go home,” X says, his voice brimming with annoyed laughter even as he makes a rude gesture in Kuroo’s direction.
Kuroo pouts. “I’m not picking a fight. That’s part of the traditional Catman courtship ritual.”
“Throwing writing utensils?”
“Giving gifts,” Kuroo says patiently, as if to humor X’s ignorance. X nods, realization dawning on his face.
“Oh, so the grenade last week was a gift.”
“Once again: it was a smoke bomb, and yes, it was. Did you like it?”
“I really didn’t,” X laughs, his nose crinkling cutely under his mask. “Overall unimpressed by your showing so far. At this rate, I’m going to leave you for a cat with bigger antlers.”
“It’s not the size that matters!”
“Hm, if you say so. Alright, seriously though, go home soon. You can do your mating dance the next time we see each other.”
“Really?” Kuroo asks, his voice definitely not cracking with enthusiasm.
“Sure. Goodnight!”
This time, Kuroo lets him leave, feeling like he just accidentally stumbled into a goldmine. After all these years, he assumed that he’d never be more than friends with X, their playful will-they-won’t-they banter just a fun little aspect of their relationship that never meant anything.
But maybe it means more than Kuroo realized. Maybe he has a chance, and if so, there’s nothing that’s going to stop him from seizing it.
--
After last night’s conversation, Daichi wakes with effervescent anticipation bubbling up in his chest.
It’s taken him three years to finally bite the proverbial bullet and just go for it. To lean into Catman’s flirtatious banter instead of dryly shrugging it off. To allow himself to want more than what they already have.
Flirting isn’t in his skillset. It was something Daichi hadn’t any need for until he joined the team, and this ridiculous, smooth-talking, time-bending weirdo came and stole the breath right out of Daichi’s lungs with each silly joke and physics defying feat. It isn’t like Daichi has trouble with words. If anything, they come even easier when he’s talking to Catman than most other people. But they’re not the right kind of words to match Catman’s slick quips, and Daichi finds himself steeped in terrible eagerness to give Catman back as good as he gets. He held off on giving in to those urges until now, but after last night, he thinks it might not be so nerve-wracking as he was building it up to be.
All in all, he’s feeling good about the day. About the future, and the plans he’s building for himself.
Until he catches a glimpse of his collarbone in the mirror as he’s brushing his teeth. It’s been a hot summer, so he’s taken to sleeping shirtless even at the expense of Suga occasionally chopping him with his ice-cold hands when they pass each other in and out of the bathroom. So Daichi’s torso is out on full display while he battles his plaque, which is why even with his sleep-zombie brain, it only takes a moment to notice the glimmer of gold adorning his clavicle.
He rubs absently at the spot, mistaking it for some schmutz that wound up on him during patrol last night, but it doesn’t disappear. Curious, he leans in closer, and almost bumps his nose against the mirror when he realizes that this isn’t just a meaningless smear of ink.
It’s a Name.
“Suga,” Daichi calls, his voice weak, wavering. His fingers continue rubbing helplessly at his chest. “Suga. Suga, I- I need you to come look at something for me.”
“Daichi, shut up, I’m trying to sleep here!” Suga bellows from his room. He’s probably still hungover from whatever the hell he was doing at 2 a.m. with Oikawa this morning. Possibly something illegal.
“Sorry,” Daichi calls back, minty foam still frothing around his lips as he stares stupidly at the backwards name in the mirror. The lights in the bathroom are suddenly too bright for his eyes. The mark on his skin too gold, too tangible.
“Yeah, if you’re really sorry then grab me a mocha before you leave for work. If this is another weird hair on your knee- hey, what’s wrong?” Suga asks, yawning, his hair a tousled mess on one side and flattened on the other. His mouth claps shut as he takes in Daichi standing shirtless and shocked at the shrine of their sink. With one cold finger, he prods at Daichi’s waist where he knows it’ll jolt him. “Daichi, rinse your mouth, at least.”
Daichi flinches away from the ghastly chill of his best friend’s hand but does as he’s told, still not in a state of mind where he can process anything. After he splashes his face clean, he straightens up and accepts his washcloth from Suga to pat himself dry. His voice re-emerges, even if his brain is still missing in action.
“Suga, can’t you see it?”
“See what?”
Without saying another word, Daichi reaches his hand up to brush his fingertips against the reddened patch of skin where those impossible words still mark him. The briefest fear that the name will sting when he touches it flashes through him, but he doesn’t feel anything but smooth skin when he makes contact.
Kuroo Tetsurou.
“Oh, shit,” Suga breathes, reaching out to turn Daichi toward him. He stares wide-eyed at the name, before asking, “This isn’t a joke, right? It’s really happening?”
“I was hoping you could answer that. You didn’t have anything to do with this?”
“What does that even- Daichi, do you seriously think I’d tattoo some rando’s name on you while you were sleeping?”
“You absolutely would.”
“Okay, yeah, but!! I didn’t! Which means this is real! You’ve been Named!”
They stare at each other for a moment — Daichi with his arms clamped under Suga’s iron claws, Suga with blue glitter on his cheek and the worst case of bedhead Daichi’s ever seen — before Daichi takes in a shuddering breath and finally admits, “I- I’ve been Named.”
It’s been almost a decade.
It wasn’t supposed to happen, not after so many years. Not after Daichi has moved on.
“I just- I thought I was going to remain Nameless,” Daichi says slowly, his words measured so that his tone doesn’t break and give him away. He thought he wouldn’t have to worry about being Named anymore.
Even hoped for it, perhaps. Because he promised himself that if he was still Nameless by his 26th birthday, he would finally have enough courage from the last three years to ask Catman out. Daichi had signed up for the Name program when he was 16; much like most his other classmates, it seemed to him like the logical thing to do at the time. Most people are enthused about finding somebody practically fated to be with them. But after years going Nameless, he assumed there just wasn’t a good match in the pool for him, and he’d grown okay with that. It happened sometimes. People with name-matching powers were few and far between, and even with the millions of people in the name pool there were just some outliers better suited to go look for potential partners on their own.
Now that he’s finally taken the first step toward the start of something — something that feels real, something that feels like it could be what he was waiting for all this time — his match had to come along and throw all his plans out the window.
“What are you gonna do?” Suga asks as he gently releases Daichi’s arms. “You- you were going to make a move on Catman, right? But this-”
“I don’t know,” Daichi says. He’s not in the right place to think about all that right now. “I’ve- I gotta go to work. I’ll talk it over with you when I get home tonight.”
Suga can hear him compartmentalizing this problem away, and he trails after Daichi into the doorway of his bedroom. “Sure, whatever you want. Try not to think about it too much on the job today, okay?”
“Yeah,” Daichi says, even though he’s still haunted by the flash of gold in his reflection in the lamp as he pulls on his undershirt. He finishes getting dressed for the day and joins Suga in the kitchen to mindlessly eat a peach as he tries to empty his mind of everything but work. He isn’t going to think about Catman. He isn’t going to think about Kuroo Tetsurou.
Despite his silence on the matter, Suga can tell he’s still stewing in his thoughts as he heads to the door. “If you’re going to torment yourself over it, you can look him up in Wakatoshi-kun’s database to get an idea of what kind of guy he is.”
“That’s so many kinds of illegal,” Daichi scolds.
“You are literally a vigilante,” Suga reminds him.
“Yeah, but- it’s different!” Suga raises an eyebrow, and Daichi looks away, allegedly to concentrate on putting on his boots.
“If you say so. Stay safe at work; don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”
“There is nothing that I can reliably count on you being sensible enough not to do.”
“Then do whatever the hell you want,” Suga advises. “It’ll probably be fine.”
“Right,” Daichi snorts before leaping out the hallway window down to the alleyway below. As he jogs toward base, his mind begins overthinking just like he thought it would. It takes conscious effort to stop himself from spiraling into practicing bizarre scenarios in his head. Clear the mind. Put off the crisis until later.
So all his romantic plans are in limbo right now. It’s...it’s alright, actually. Daichi will take it day by day. Talk to a few people, get some opinions before proceeding.
It’ll be fine! Just like Suga said!
“This is not fine,” Throw Guy yells when another chunk of building falls toward the crowd. He flings one of his projectiles out to intercept it, sending it Daichi’s way. “X, it’s coming atcha!”
“Got it,” Daichi says as he absorbs the impact of the debris before setting it harmlessly off to the side. “Please continue evacuating! Emergency services will arrive soon!” he yells to the civilians as they flow into the street. Today’s patrol with Throw Guy was pretty uneventful until this decrepit old roof decided to collapse.
With their efforts, they manage to get everyone out mostly unscathed as the fire department arrives on the scene. People thank them as they take off for their next patrol destination, and Daichi waves sedately even as Throw Guy preens under the attention. Briefly, Daichi wonders what it might feel like to be as thick-skinned as his colleague is, able to shrug off all the worries that don’t matter. He thinks about asking for advice, but he’s afraid Throw Guy will just suggest he bleach his hair too.
“Ugh, that was the worst,” Throw Guy groans as they do their rounds outside city hall. “Don’t ya think that they should’ve condemned that place ages ago? We’re lucky it didn’t take out some poor old man on his last day of work or something.”
“That would have been pretty horrific,” Daichi agrees as he stops a woman’s dog from bolting into traffic. “Hopefully that’s the worst of it.”
“Yeah, things here are way more chill. Wanna grab lunch?” Throw Guy points to the rooftops, and Daichi nods in agreement.
They get takeout from a nearby restaurant and settle on a nice flat roof in the thick of things, so they can keep an eye on the streets below even as they eat. Conversation starts off about work and winds up on something light and frivolous like how Throw Guy’s twin keeps using him as a guinea pig for new recipes.
Daichi is having a chuckle about his poor teammate suffering through a wasabi cake when it occurs to him that he has an expert on Names with him right here.
“Hey,” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, “feel free to ignore my question, but I wanna ask — do you really have Kita-san’s name on you?”
Throw Guy startles for a second before grinning proudly and hooking his thumb in the waistband of his pants.
“Whoa, wait,” Daichi says, putting his hands up in alarm.
“Yep, right here!” Throw Guy says, revealing the name on his hipbone, Kita Shinsuke shining up at him in familiar gold.
“Oh, wow. It’s really right there.” Daichi leans down to get a closer look and sees that while the handwriting is different, the mark looks just like Daichi’s. “How- how long have you had it?”
“Just a couple of years. I already had a little crush on Kita-san even before it developed. Kinda figured the name people just didn’t get ‘round to my case yet, but I’m not too upset about it. I think it’s better this way, that I got to know him for him, y’know? Before some mark on our skin decided for us.”
“Yeah,” Daichi says, his throat painfully parched. “That’s great that it worked out for you guys.”
“Well, kinda. Kita-san shuts me down most of the time I ask him out for a date, but I think it’s mostly ‘cause we’re so busy.”
Daichi can picture it: Throw Guy on the verge of passing out after a mission and still trying to wheedle a dinner date out of their handler. No wonder Kita is taking things slow.
“Why the questions all of a sudden?” Throw Guy asks, pulling Daichi’s attention back to him. “Did...did ya finally get yours?”
Daichi almost swallows his tongue at the sharp gleam in his partner’s eyes, and barely manages to mumble out, “Yeah, it, uh. It came in while I was sleeping last night.”
Throw Guy whistles in commiseration. “Damn, and now you’re stuck choosin’ between Catman and your match, huh?”
As if almost choking on himself earlier wasn’t enough, Daichi practically spit-takes at this comment. “Wait, what’s that supposed to mean?”
“C’mon, X, everybody knows you two have a thing. We know it’s not really as much of a joke as you guys pretend it is.”
This information shifts Daichi’s worldview in a way that only makes him more conflicted about what to do. He was never in denial about his growing feelings for Catman; he just chose not to advertise the truth too loudly. But it appears that everybody has known all along.
Throw Guy must see his shoulders slump, because he reaches out a hand to pat Daichi on the knee.
“You- you do like him, right?” he asks, his eyes looking unusually patient.
At this point, “like” is probably an understatement. “Is it that obvious?”
“I mean, yeah,” Throw Guy laughs, using his hands to make some kind of elaborate gesture Daichi doesn’t understand. “The two of you are like, I dunno. Magnets? Puzzle pieces? Like you fit together.”
“But now I’ve been Named,” Daichi says dully, and Throw Guy nods, stroking his chin.
“And that throws a wrench in your plans. Well, you know, all puzzle pieces have to connect to at least two others, right? Maybe your match is like...an even better fit than Catman.”
“I don’t think that’s how puzzles work.”
“Yeah, okay, the analogy’s kinda broken but you know what I’m gettin’ at.”
“So you think I should try to meet him.”
“I’d say it couldn’t hurt. Maybe he’ll be just as good as he’s supposed to be. Besides,” Throw Guy adds, meeting Daichi’s turmoil with a smile, “You don’t have to choose your match. Maybe he’s actually a big weirdo and somehow that was just the best they had for you in the pool. Shit like that happens. It’s not a done deal just ‘cause you got Named. Lots of people get it removed these days, so. Don’t worry too much about it.”
Daichi’s laugh is stiff, but he understands the point Throw Guy is making.
This isn’t the most difficult decision Daichi’s ever made. It’s just one he wasn’t expecting to cross his path, and that’s shaken his normally sturdy foundation. But he’ll figure it out in time, like he’s done with every problem before it.
“Thanks for the advice. I think you’re wiser than I’ve been giving you credit for,” Daichi says, clapping Throw Guy on the back. “You’re pretty sharp, for someone who tried to stick a knife in a toaster once.”
“No problem, but- wait, c’mon X, you know the toaster thing was a joke. How stupid d’you think I am? Don’t just shake your head and walk away! X!”
--
Kenma’s phone policy is “do not call if you know it’s going to make me want to hang up on you.” Seeing as it’s 6:13 in the morning, Kuroo is fairly sure he’s going to get sent to voicemail, but he’s desperate enough to call anyway. Kenma will get back to him when he hears how helpless Kuroo sounds.
“Kenma, something happened and- no wait, that sounds bad. I’m fine, everyone’s fine, but uh- I need to talk to you about something when you’re free. Yeah. Uh, hope this didn’t wake you up. Okay. Enjoy your sleep. Oh, and don’t forget to put out your trash tonight. Alright, bye.”
Kuroo hangs up the phone and drops it thoughtlessly beside him as he marvels at the gold words printed on his left wrist.
Sawamura Daichi.
After all this time, Kuroo’s finally been Named, and he doesn’t know how to feel about it.
It’s...exciting. It is. Kuroo’s a little bit of a romantic, he’ll admit, and the thought of being matched is still as thrilling as it was when he was a kid.
But Kuroo’s romanticism can’t overwrite his pragmatism. Sure, he’s been Named, but he doesn’t know a thing about the guy. X, on the other hand.
Kuroo knows so much about X. Likes so much about him already. Trusts him. Understands him.
So why this, when Kuroo’s heart already half belongs to another? Why throw a complete stranger into his life years after he’s grown comfortable with the idea of finding love for himself?
This is why he needs Kenma to help him sort through it all, because both his heart and his brain aren’t prepared for this problem.
It isn’t like he’s never had feelings for anyone else. But he’d thought of those as the fleeting affections of youth. Childhood crushes, a soft-edged first love, and heart-racing attraction that would never resolve itself into a relationship. Nothing at all like the partnership he has with X. From the comforting ease of their friendship, to the teasing bite of their pretend rivalry, everything about his relationship with X feels like more than anything that’s come before.
Kuroo could move on from X. He knows himself — his heart isn’t so fragile that it couldn’t bounce back from a love three years in the making. But to give up on someone he’s so fond of in favor of someone he’s never even met?
Isn’t that just pure stupidity?
Your match is supposed to be the person most well-suited for you; Kuroo just has a hard time believing that the universe knows better than he does what’s best for his heart.
But the higher power that allows Kuroo to unwind time beneath his fingertips is the same one that gave everyone working for the Name program their abilities, and he can’t deny all the facts that prove their accuracy. So now he has a decision to make.
Should he move forward with X? Or take a chance on the person now literally written into his life? He traces the kanji on his wrist again, feeling an indescribable loss.
Sawamura Daichi.
It’s a good name. Probably a good man, too.
He’s just not the man that Kuroo wants.
Kuroo floats through his whole patrol in this half-trance, doing all his hero-ing through muscle memory. Guardian probably notices, and has the self-control not to bring it up until they’re by the riverbank, where he knows Kuroo likes to mope.
“Catman! What’s the deal with you today?” he asks, leaping up onto a rock to pose. He’s both compact and the very picture of power, and it brings a smile to Kuroo’s face. Even without his unbreakable shield, he’s one of the strongest people Kuroo knows. It’s hard not to want to spill all his troubles with Guardian frowning down at him like that.
“Do I seem off?”
“Extremely! You didn’t even make a joke about the train station mascot when we passed by today!”
“Ah,” Kuroo sighs, staring at the placid waters. “I didn’t, did I? I guess I’ve just been preoccupied with something that came up this morning.”
“Well, if you wanna talk, I’m always here for you. Remember, even heroes need help!” Guardian jerks a thumb toward his own chest before pointing dramatically at Catman. Sunset backlights him in golden fire, and Kuroo has no trouble believing that he’s the city’s most popular hero. No one else does it like Guardian does.
Kuroo’s laugh is wheezy, but genuine. “Alright, then let me ask you something. You never opted into the Name program, right?”
“That’s right,” Guardian says as he leaps back onto shore to come sit beside Kuroo. “I didn’t wanna leave something like that up to somebody else. I know people say it’s the closest thing we have to finding the person fated for us, but I believe in my own power. If I’m not the one making my destiny, then what’s the point?” His sharp brown eyes pierce through Kuroo’s muddled brain, sparking even more doubts.
Kuroo thinks back to the way he mindlessly signed up for the program while joking around with his friends and shakes his head at his youthful ignorance. “Huh. That’s a really mature way to be thinking as a teen.”
“Well, you know I’m always forging my own path. But that doesn’t mean I think people with Names are doing it wrong. Did yours come in?”
“Yeah. And it’s- I mean, it’s thrilling.”
“Your voice doesn’t agree,” Guardian laughs, and Kuroo joins in.
“Okay, yeah, so I’m feeling a bunch of different ways at once about it. I do want to meet my match. He’s probably fantastic. It’s just- I had plans, you know? I had someone in my heart already. And now, I feel like the universe is telling me I was wrong for feeling this way. I dunno, it’s stupid,” he says, scrubbing at a smudge of dirt on his gloves.
“It’s not stupid! You know better than anyone how you feel, and no ink on your skin can tell you different.”
Kuroo thinks about the crisp gold words that now mark him, and the finality that they seemed to spell across his wrist. But the uncertainty he felt upon seeing them had been real. Just like the feelings he has for X are real.
Quietly, he asks, “Do you think it would be crazy to pursue someone even when I’ve got a different match?”
Is it beyond the scope of reason to chase a dream instead of settling for a sure thing?
“I think it’d be crazy not to choose to be with the person you think you wanna spend the rest of your life with. And I dunno if that’s X, or the guy on your skin, but either way, it’s gotta be your decision.”
“...yeah, I think you’re ri- wait, how did you know- I never said it was X!”
Guardian just cackles, laughing deep from his stomach at Kuroo’s misfortune. “Haha, who else would it be? We’re not blind, Catman!”
“Fair enough,” Kuroo concedes, knowing that his very obvious attraction is just part of their schtick by now.
“I’m not gonna tell you my opinion, because it’s your choice to make. But don’t let yourself live with too many regrets, okay?”
“I’ll try,” Kuroo promises, willing himself not to look at his wrist.
As things stand, what he would regret most is not taking a chance with X. Beneath his glove, his Name feels like it’s searing his skin, but all he can think about is X’s smile from last night, and the bubble of hope that filled him upon seeing it.
All he can remember is every moment X pulled him to his feet, or rubbed a soothing hand along his back or laughed at his attempts to lighten the mood.
Can Kuroo so easily let go of all that?
--
Daichi knows a great many things by heart, like Asahi’s favorite movie, and Suga’s allergies, and Kiyoko’s childhood address since he used to send her postcards every summer when they were kids.
But the things he knows about Catman he knows by sight, by sound, by scent. His heart is only half the equation; his body remembers the rest. Years of implicit trust have wired in Daichi a close understanding of each of his teammates, but his awareness of Catman surpasses the rest, whether he ever intended it or not.
It’s why he knows there’s something kind of off about Catman’s mood today, even if he’s still acting the same as he always does around Daichi. There’s a nervousness to his energy, and voice sounds a bit tired. Of course, Daichi might be acting kind of strange as well, given his still-mixed feelings about his Name match and what to do about it. He’d been thinking about following Throw Guy’s advice, and just going for a cursory meeting, but he was hoping that his patrol today with Catman would give him the motivation to see that decision through.
Unfortunately, instead of the easy camaraderie that normally colors their joint patrols, there’s an unfamiliar disquiet between them, and Daichi has to wonder if maybe Catman can sense that something about Daichi has changed. It hasn’t negatively impacted their teamwork yet today, but Daichi is worried that it will. Being Named has thrown his life out of balance in more ways than one.
“Move back!” Daichi is saying now, as a lamppost comes down after a truck hurtles straight into it. He catches it long enough to negate the crash before ducking away and letting it land on the street. Pedestrians have the good sense to avoid walking into his way.
Catman has already hauled the unconscious driver out of the cab and onto the sidewalk. Daichi helps call the paramedics while Catman checks the man over, and by the time the ambulance leaves with him, they’re on their way to the next neighborhood.
“So, Owlaser’s street interview was released this morning — did you see it yet?” Daichi says after they foil a drunk man trying to terrorize the shopping district. They’re standing by a playground and sipping the free energy drinks the grateful konbini owner gave to them after the incident, and Daichi still feels uncharacteristically awkward as he fishes for some kind of conversation starter that will break through Catman’s haze.
“Not yet, though I heard it was hilarious,” Catman says, smiling half-heartedly back at Daichi.
“Yeah, he almost shot a beam through the camera in excitement when they asked him about his favorite type of cheesecake.”
Catman laughs, but Daichi is still fixated on the worried creases at the corners of his eyes, usually a sign that he stayed up too late the previous night.
“Are you feeling okay?” Daichi asks, watching the way Catman’s gaze seems to lose focus for a second as it lands on him. Is he giving off some weird vibes that Catman finds off-putting? Is there something about him today that screams “quarter-life crisis”?
But Catman just waves his hand dismissively, claiming, “I’m fine, just didn’t sleep well.”
“Yeah, you look kinda tired. Do you wanna head home early today? I should be good on my own, and Wakatoshi-kun said this morning that Guardian would be available for an extra shift.” Daichi knows they all need the occasional reminder not to push themselves too hard, and today is probably one of those times for Catman.
To his surprise, though, Catman startles at the suggestion, and vehemently shakes his head no.
“No, I’m good! We’re only halfway through and I’m fine to keep going.”
“Are you sure?” Daichi asks, stressing the question. “It just seems like you’re not totally with me today.”
“I always want to be with you, sweetheart,” Catman says like it’s instinct, and for a second Daichi thinks he has his usual partner back, until Catman slumps again. “I guess I’ve just been thinking a lot. Enough to keep me up last night.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
There’s a brief moment when Catman looks like he’s thinking carefully through his words, before he appears to settle on asking something else. “You signed up for the Name program when you were in high school, right?”
The breath in Daichi’s lungs turns stale. “Yeah, I did.”
Catman nods, but he’s distracted, like he’s trying to figure out how to approach a subject he shouldn’t be broaching.
He makes several aborted starts before turning to Daichi and asking, with obvious uncertainty, “What...what would you do if your Name suddenly came in?”
Daichi feels himself freezing, and for a bizarre moment, he wonders how many times Catman has seen him like this, stationary and unmoving as the whole world falls still.
“How did you know?” he hears himself asking. “Did Throw Guy tell you?”
A flash of confusion passes through Catman’s eyes, before it crystalizes into comprehension, the same way it does when he takes stock of a situation they’re about to jump into. He inhales sharply, his elegant fingers spasming once, and then he clenches them around the playground fence railing.
He says, slowly and deliberately, “Did Throw Guy tell me what? That...you’ve finally been Named?”
Hearing Catman say it aloud cements the reality of Daichi’s Naming, and anxiety seizes his chest.
“Yeah. He’s the only one of us that I told.”
“No, I just figured it out myself,” Catman says, laughing, but his voice is brittle. He turns away from Daichi to watch the children on the playground shrieking about something in excitement. His tone is even when he speaks again. “So your Name finally appeared, huh? Congrats.”
There’s a sudden distance between them, a barrier that Daichi can’t fault Catman for raising. Is this what it’s going to be like from now on?
“T-thanks,” Daichi stutters, unsteady in a way that he hasn’t been since he was a child. “I’m not sure how I feel about it yet.”
“I think you should go for it. You should meet them.”
“...are you saying that as yourself, or as my friend?”
“Aren’t they one and the same?” Catman says. His smile is crooked, but it reaches his eyes. “I’m saying it as someone who cares about you.”
If what we have could be encapsulated by just the word “care,” I don’t think this would hurt so much, Daichi wants to protest.
What would you say as someone who might feel about me the same way I feel about you?
What would you say as someone who might love me?
But that wouldn’t be fair. Daichi had three long years to get his shit together, and it isn’t Catman’s fault that the universe has aligned itself like this for the sole purpose of fucking up his long-belated plans. It isn’t Catman’s fault Daichi was too much of a coward to make his feelings clear until it was too late.
So Daichi is going to fix it now.
“Throw Guy gave me the same advice. He told me it couldn’t hurt to try,” he says, and Catman’s smile flickers, for just a millisecond. It’s long enough for Daichi to know what he needs to do.
“He’s right. Why wouldn’t you give true love a chance?” Catman says, and Daichi shakes his head, his heart aching.
“Because I’ve been gathering the courage for something better than true love. So I’m going to meet him for long enough to know, and I’m going to tell him it isn’t going to work out. And then I’m going to come find you at base and finally ask you out on the date that we should have gone on ages ago, after that time we almost got stuck in a drainpipe all night.”
“I kept telling you your shoulders were too wide to make it through,” Catman recalls, a tiny laugh slipping free, before he looks helplessly at Daichi. “By now you have to know how I would react if you really did all that. But how can you be sure you won’t choose him? How can you choose me over fate itself?”
“Because I’ve spent the last year double-checking and second-guessing and always came up with the same answer. Because I’m dense as hell, but just smart enough to understand that I feel something for you that I don’t for anybody else. Because it’s you.”
Catman’s expression folds just enough for Daichi to see the vulnerability beneath his calm exterior.
Without thinking, Daichi reaches up as if to take hold of Catman’s shoulder, and then collects his senses. “I can understand why it would be hard for you to just trust what I’m saying. But I’m going to try and sort it out as soon as possible, if you’re still willing to wait for me.”
Over the years, Daichi has grown familiar with the way Catman’s hazel eyes will soften just the slightest bit when he watches Daichi, and it happens again now, in painful clarity.
“I can wait.”
“Thank you,” Daichi says, meaning it in every way possible. “Do you want some space from me for the rest of patrol? One of us can probably switch with Owlaser-”
“No, it’s okay. We’re too good a team to let something like this trip us up. Besides, you know Throw Guy and Iron Hand would be gossipping about it for days if we did.”
It feels like a desperate bid to pretend that everything between them is still normal, but Daichi accepts it as the olive branch that it is. Even if all the other pieces of their relationship are starting to unravel at the seams, Daichi knows they still make an unbeatable team.
Now all he has to do is prove that he’s committed to everything else they could be.
--
An email arrives first thing Friday morning, informing him that his match has sent him a message. Kuroo has to reset his password to the Name portal because he hasn’t logged on in over a year, and his fingers are jittering the whole time.
“What do you want? Whatever it is, figure it out and do it,” Kenma said during their video call last night.
“If it were that easy, this wouldn’t be a problem,” Kuroo mumbled back, and that was really the whole issue. Kuroo knows what he wants, but he also wants what’s best for X. And if that’s X’s Name match, then Kuroo will learn to be okay with it.
X had sounded so positive yesterday, but Kuroo knows things like this are never that easy. Even if X feels the same way as Kuroo does, there’s no guarantee that those emotions stand a chance against his match. But he’s made his choice to go forward with his meeting, and Kuroo respects that, whatever the outcome may be.
So while X is out meeting his match, Kuroo might as well meet his own. They can at least introduce themselves to one another, even as Kuroo explains that he’s hung up on someone that he isn’t ready to get over yet.
After he finally gets into the website, he clicks impatiently on the message waiting for him from his match. It reads: Hello, I’m Sawamura Daichi. I think it would be a good idea for us to meet.
It’s short and simple, and Kuroo can appreciate him getting straight to the point. Any small talk and icebreakers can happen in person. He shoots back a reply telling Sawamura what city he’s in, and his general availability, before going to get himself a mug of coffee. He’s only barely back in his seat when he sees that Sawamura has already replied, and then he almost drops his coffee to the floor when he finds that his match calls the same city his home as well. What are the odds?
That makes scheduling much easier, and Kuroo suggests they meet for coffee tomorrow morning if Sawamura is free. Kuroo has two days off in a row, and it’ll leave him with enough time to try and nurse his metaphorical wounds before seeing X at work again. At least he can try to strengthen his heart in the meantime.
Sawamura readily accepts Kuroo’s offer in his next message, and suggests a cafe near the hospital that Kuroo knows well. He says he’ll be wearing an orange hero coalition backpack so Kuroo can identify him. Neither he nor Kuroo have a photograph up on the portal, so Kuroo will just have to wait until they meet to know what he looks like.
Kuroo replies one last time confirming the details of their meeting, and then logs off and flops on the couch in defeat. So this is really happening. He should probably pick out something to wear to make a good first impression tomorrow, but all he wants to do is call Kenma and complain, so that’s what he does. Fashion and heartache can wait for later.
On the day of his fateful meeting Kuroo gets to the cafe ten minutes early and then spends all of that time standing outside wondering what X’s meeting is going to be like.
He finally enters after debating the merits of asking Owlaser to just come and beam his head off, and hovers around the doorway while craning his neck to find his match. He spots a young man sitting alone with an orange backpack besides him, and takes a deep breath before heading over.
Kuroo starts waving before he even gets there, which is likely the first thing Sawamura sees when he looks up from the menu at the disturbingly tall noodle man approaching him at an alarming speed. But he doesn’t seem frightened by Kuroo, and instead stands while wearing a small smile.
“Kuroo Tetsurou,” Kuroo is muttering breathlessly as he extends his hand for a handshake. Sawamura accepts, introducing himself in turn, and then they both sit down abruptly and are left staring at each other.
Sawamura is cute. He’s shorter than Kuroo but well-built, and he has pretty brown eyes that remind Kuroo too much of somebody else. But that’s no surprise — when isn’t X on Kuroo’s mind these days? In any case, Sawamura is exactly Kuroo’s type, which is both reassuring and a shame, because he isn’t at a place in his life yet where he can appreciate that fact.
“Oh, uh, here’s my Name,” Kuroo blurts, remembering that matches usually like to confirm their Names right away, to be certain there’s no mistake. He turns his hand so that his left wrist is exposed, and Sawamura can clearly see his own name inscribed on Kuroo’s skin.
“Ah,” Sawamura says, and the little noise is both adorable and oddly familiar. “Right, I forgot,” he says apologetically, smiling at Kuroo in a way that has his brain running laps around itself, because why on earth is everything about this guy so reminiscent of X?
Kuroo doesn’t have the chance to dwell on that, because Sawamura is tugging his shirt collar down to reveal his clavicle, and Kuroo sees his own name printed in gold right above the bone.
“Damn,” he says involuntarily, flushing when Sawamura chuckles. “That’s me, alright.”
“Yep.”
“Sorry, I’m just a little overwhelmed. I never really thought I’d be here, meeting you.”
“I know what you mean,” Sawamura replies. His face turns solemn as he continues, “And that’s actually something I wanted to talk to you about.”
“What do you mean?” Kuroo asks, watching curiously as Sawamura’s brows draw together very briefly as he listens to Kuroo speak.
“I’m afraid I asked you to meet under false pretenses. Well, kind of. I did want to meet you, but for something other than what you probably expect.”
This is an odd turn in conversation. Kuroo leans forward, and sees the exact way Sawamura’s eyes widen before he breaks eye contact. “Okay, I’ll bite. What did you want to meet me for?”
To his credit, Sawamura stops averting his gaze and looks very earnest as he tells Kuroo, “You seem like a very nice person, Kuroo-san-”
“Well, I mean, we’ve only known each other for five minutes. I could be a serial killer for all you know.”
“I don’t think I would have matched with a serial killer,” Sawamura counters, his voice turning dry in a way that pierces Kuroo through the chest. “At least, I would hope not. But what I’m saying is this: I’m sure you’re a lovely person. But I have my heart set on somebody already, and I don’t think it’s fair to you for us to try and develop anything beyond a friendship while those feelings remain.”
It takes a moment for Kuroo to process these words, and then he’s hit with an uncomfortable feeling of deja vu at the same time as confusion settles into his brain. It feels like he’s on the verge of unraveling a knot, but he can’t quite grasp the strings.
“Sorry, can you spell that out even more clearly? I just wanna make sure I really understand.”
Sawamura nods. “To put it simply: I’m in love with someone else. And I’m pretty determined to try and make it work. I apologize for how we got thrown together, and I understand if you’re disappointed in our match. We can- we can still be friends- I’d actually really like that, but I get it if you’d prefer a clean break-”
He’s still talking, but Kuroo is stuck four sentences behind. He keeps hearing Sawamura saying I’m in love with someone else, and it breaks Kuroo’s heart. Because that voice—
— that voice sounds so much like X’s, and this situation seems to mirror theirs so closely that Kuroo is getting his emotions all jumbled, because he should be happy that Sawamura has someone he loves. That way Kuroo won’t hurt him when he continues to pine over X, who might be letting down his match gently or perhaps falling in love with him at this very minute. So Kuroo’s head is happy, because it’s all working out, but his heart is unhappy, because it feels like X is turning him down in favor of somebody else—
Wait. Wait a second.
He stares at Sawamura for a minute, his face completely blank as he tries to connect the dots that are flashing at him in neon green.
Sawamura sees him just dissociating and frowns in concern. His hand reaches across the table toward Kuroo. “Are you feeling okay?”
Kuroo feels his stomach do an entire acrobatic routine as it attempts to lurch up and directly into his lungs.
He heard these exact words two days ago, in that exact voice. There’s no way he can be mistaken. Not when he spent so much time memorizing every cadence and tone by heart.
Sawamura Daichi is X. He must be.
Kuroo’s match is X.
He’s 90% certain, and then 99% when Sawamura reaches over and presses a kind hand against Kuroo’s shoulder, trying to soothe him out of his apparent turmoil.
“Let me get you some tea, or a glass of water,” he’s saying, reaching for his wallet and wrinkling his nose when he remembers that it’s not in his pocket. It’s probably in his backpack because X always does the same thing: leaves his wallet behind at base and only brings out whatever loose bills were left stuffed in his outfit pockets.
God, it’s so weird to see his whole face, unguarded by a mask. He really is so cute; Kuroo can’t believe he was able to stand only seeing half of X’s face for so many years. He wants to do something extremely stupid in celebration, but he still hasn’t actually confirmed his suspicions yet, and he can’t just ask here, in the middle of this coffeeshop, so he gently rejects Sawamura’s offer to buy him some herbal tea and says, “I’m okay, and I totally understand your situation. But- I need you to come with me. Please.”
“Is something the matter?” Sawamura asks, blinking those wide, dark eyes at him, and Kuroo’s heart pounds against his ribcage.
“No, but, I- I need your help with something.”
Sawamura straightens at this, his expression growing serious. “Okay, let’s go,” he agrees, already standing. Can’t turn down a civilian in need. Of course.
Kuroo brings him out of the coffeeshop to a more secluded area nearby full of trees and benches. He gestures for Sawamura to take a seat and then sits down beside him.
“Sawamura-san, I know I’m acting really strange right now, but can I ask you to trust me for a minute?”
Sawamura’s expression is guarded, but he nods, and Kuroo holds out his hand.
“Can I see your hand? I promise I won’t do anything, I just want to take a look.”
It takes only a second of deliberation before Sawamura places his hand in Kuroo’s, and almost immediately, Kuroo spots a scar that he knows well. Even despite the protective gloves, an attacker’s knife had nicked the base of X’s thumb. And on Sawamura’s knuckle is the burn mark that he got when they were screwing around with Yachi’s unfinished laser cutter. Even his callouses feel familiar from the most recent time they high-fived.
There’s no longer any doubt in Kuroo’s mind. He just has to make X see.
“Thank you for trusting me,” he says warmly as he releases Sawamura’s hand. “Can I show you something before I let you go?”
“Sure,” Sawamura says gamely, even though everything Kuroo has done in the last five minutes has been bonkers. Kuroo hopes that what he’s about to do next will make it all clear.
“Don’t look away. Not even for a fraction of a second.”
Sawamura’s expression begins to morph into shock at these words, but Kuroo has already pulled time apart down to the nanoseconds. He takes a moment to memorize the sight of Sawamura’s eyelashes and cheekbones and jaw, before he jogs toward the patch of grass where he spots a few tough little dandelions sprouting near a tree. He picks one and returns to his seat before letting the flow of time resume its regular course.
Kuroo is already offering his dandelion to Sawamura as he tries to speak, and the words stumble to a stop as he takes the flower carefully from Kuroo’s hand, like he’s handling something fragile.
“...you slipped through time,” Sawamura says, his eyes wide as he twirls the flower between his fingers. “You slowed the world for just a few seconds to grab this, but for me it was like no time passed at all.” He’s whispering by the end, a hopeful kind of disbelief dawning on his face.
“And I would do it again,” Kuroo says, already holding another dandelion. Sawamura blinks at it, surprised, before he laughs brightly, taking the second flower from Kuroo’s hands. Their eyes meet and all the remaining barriers between them crumble away as they see each other for the first time all over again.
“That would be an unauthorized use of your powers. Keiji will be frowning for days,” Sawamura says in X’s voice, in his voice, in the voice of Kuroo’s match.
“I- okay, well, I would fill out the appropriate paperwork afterwards so that he can’t complain.”
“He might still frown a little bit.”
They both grin at the thought, before Sawamura takes a shaky breath that exhales as an even shakier laugh.
“So. Kuroo Tetsurou,” he says, clutching his dandelions like he’s afraid to let them go.
“Sawamura Daichi,” Kuroo responds, feeling all his nervous energy returning to him in a rush. But it begins to dissipate again when he sees Sawamura’s familiar smile, made all the more beautiful by the sight of his unmasked face. Any uncertainty lingering in his chest is nothing compared to the elation filling him now.
“That’s me. Um, so in the cafe, I was saying something. And in light of this, uh, new development, I think I’d like to take back my words-”
Kuroo pretend-frowns, unable to hold off teasing X for even a minute. “Are you saying that you’re ready to move on after all? I thought you were still in love with somebody else. I think you should go confess to him. You and I- well, like you said, we can be friends-”
“You’re taking way too much joy out of this for someone in the same boat as I am,” Sawamura accuses, that wonderfully familiar mouth flattening out in a scowl that Kuroo knows and loves. “But fine. I will. Goodbye, Kuroo-san. Thank you for the flowers, but I have someone I need to meet.” With that, he stands and bows to Kuroo before running off.
“Wait, I was just joking! Sawamura-san!” Kuroo gapes in the direction Sawamura just disappeared to. Cursing, he jumps to his feet, ready to give chase when he remembers the agreement they made two days ago.
Even at full speed, without using his powers, it takes him at least fifteen minutes to sprint back home, throw on his Catman outfit, and then run to base.
He’s out of breath when he trips into the monitoring room, where Guardian is chatting with Ushijima and Kita while they watch Iron Hand and Owlaser on an op.
“Catman!” Guardian greets, waving at Kuroo from his seat on top of a table. “You’re dropping in today too?”
“You should enjoy your day off,” Kita says, smiling with bemusement as Kuroo tries to catch his breath. “Rest is just as important as work in our business.”
“No, I- I just came because- have you seen X?” Kuroo heaves stupidly.
“You definitely need to rest.” Ushijima scolds, but he points back out to the hallway. “He went to the briefing room.”
“Thanks, guys.” Kuroo takes a second to spruce himself up so he doesn’t look like he’s in total disarray, and then walks into the briefing room while trying to keep his cool.
“Hey,” X says, waving from his seat next to the conference table. He’s in his hero outfit, but his gloves are missing and one of his boots isn’t properly buckled; he must have run just as quickly to beat Kuroo here, that fool.
“Here on your day off?” Kuroo asks, leaning against the doorway and hoping he looks casual. X puts his phone away, trying to look equally nonchalant.
“I had some business to take care of. You?”
“Oh, well, a little birdie told me I could find you here.”
“That’s perfect, because I was about to come looking for you.” X walks over until they’re only half a meter apart. “I had my Name meeting today.”
“Did you?”
“I did. And he was very handsome and probably not a serial killer-”
“Oh, thank god, that was one of my top concerns for you-”
“-but none of that matters, because I still choose you. So, what do you say, Catman? Will you go on a date with me?”
X’s— no, Sawamura’s gaze catches Kuroo’s, his eyes bright behind his mask, and Kuroo can’t help but to smile back as all their efforts finally fall into place.
“I would love to.”
“Perfect. Then let me buy you a drink. Herbal tea or something.”
“Thanks,” Kuroo laughs. “We’re gonna have to just go out like this, though. I don’t have the energy to keep changing back and forth just to go grab coffee.”
“Same. Our second date can be unmasked,” Sawamura says, his voice lifting at the end like a question.
“I’d like that,” Kuroo agrees. “As for the rest, we’ll figure it out later. Together.”
He extends his hand, and Sawamura gently touches Kuroo’s covered wrist, where his name is hidden, before weaving their fingers together and holding on tight. Their hands fit as perfectly as they ever did.
“Best partnership on the team, right?”
“Absolutely. Now, c’mon, let’s scam some spending money out of Kita-san while we’re here,” Kuroo says, walking out the door with Sawamura toward their new beginning.