Work Text:
Kei, age 6
The first time it happens, it’s in a flash. No warning signs, no tingling, nothing. Just one blink and suddenly he’s no longer sitting on the plush living room carpet playing with the dinosaur figurines Aki-nii brought home from his school trip to the museum. Instead there’s a hard cool wooden floor and Kei’s suddenly shivering, everything is strange and loud and his first urge is to cry because everything is strange and loud and he’s all alone, no dinosaur figurines in sight.
He draws a shuddering breath, hugging himself only for skin to meet skin and that explains why he’s so cold. He’s naked. He can feel tears welling up in his eyes—he wants to go home where things aren’t so loud and where he can play and his mother and brother will hug and kiss him—but then a thud behind him makes him snap his head around.
Behind him in a small hallway, there’s a tall man that has Kei scrambling to crawl back in fear until his back hits the foot of the coffee table. Next to the man’s feet, there’s a bag—probably what made the noise.
“Kei?” The man asks, voice disbelieving, and he steps into the living room. His voice sounds strangely familiar and his blond hair reminds Kei a little of Aki-nii’s, just a shade or two darker. His face is a bit like Aki-nii’s too, only a little sharper around the edges.
Kei sniffles. “I’m not supposed to talk to strange men,” he warns as he tries to make himself as small as possible, skinny arms wrapping tightly around knobbly knees.
The man lifts his hands in a placating manner, almost as if Kei’s a scared little animal, and crouches down to Kei’s level.
“Hey, Kei, it’s me, Akiteru,” he explains, voice soft. “I promise I’m not gonna hurt you.”
Kei shakes his head. “No,” he sniffles again, eyes hot with unshed tears.
“ Keikei, ” the man says again and at that Kei looks up. Only Aki-nii ever calls him that. “I swear it’s me.”
“Promise?” Kei whispers.
Maybe-Akiteru nods with a solemn look on his face. “Promise.”
Kei rushes into his arms, before the word has even fully left his mouth. Warm arms embrace him and yes, this has to be Akiteru. Nobody else has ever been able to make him feel so safe and loved.
“Oh Keikei,” Akiteru hums as he rubs soothing circles over Kei’s back. “It’s gonna be okay. It’s all gonna be okay.”
Kei doesn’t know how that can be the truth, but if Aki-nii says it’s going to be okay, it has to be. Aki-nii never lies.
He nods weakly in response and then burrows his head back into the crook of Akiteru’s neck, runny nose pressed to his clavicle.
“You have to listen to me, okay Keikei?” Akiteru continues. “I know it’s all strange and scary right now, but you have to listen. It’s important.”
Kei nods again, mumbling a mushy “ ‘M listening ” into Akiteru’s neck.
“You’re a time traveller, Kei. Dad was one, too, that’s how he died—it’s dangerous so you gotta be careful, okay?” The words rush out with a sense of urgency that Kei’s not used to from his older brother. He tightens his grip around his neck, suddenly afraid that something will take him away again.
“As far as I know, the travelling happens at random but it’s always to the people most important in your life, so you don’t have to be scared, yeah? You’re always going to be travelling home.” He pauses to run his hand through Kei’s shaggy blond hair, leans in to press a kiss to the crown of Kei’s head. Kei basks in the easy affection. “Do you believe me?”
Without hesitation, he nods again, because of course he believes him. He’s six, he’s scared and Aki-nii never lies.
His brother gives a soft chuckle. “Man, you were such a sweet kid,” he huffs under his breath and Kei would’ve missed it if he wasn’t still wrapped around his neck like a little koala. Something bristles at the words, either at the implication that he’s sweet or that won’t be in the future, maybe both.
“You have to be careful. You can’t take anything with you when you travel and sometimes it drops you into dangerous places like the middle of a road, so you have to watch out, okay? And no matter what, you always—”
Kei never finds out what Akiteru was going to say next, because suddenly he’s gone, sitting back at home on that plush carpet, plastic dinosaurs strewn about on the floor.
This time, he really does start crying. A big ugly wail that has footsteps stomping down the stairs in quick succession.
“What’s wrong, Keikei?”,Akiteru asks out of breath, stumbling into the room, eyes frantically scanning for whatever may have caused his little brother harm.
“A-A-ki-hi-hii,” Kei chokes out in between ugly sobs as tears both for the first and second time today well up in his eyes, finally spilling over and streaming down his face
Keiji, age 8
Kei, older
It’s summer and Keiji is playing in the garden behind his grandmother’s house, when he sees him for the first time. He’s busy plucking flowers from the grass and braiding them together until a soft thud makes him look up.
A blond naked man rights himself in the grass. Or maybe a boy , Keiji thinks. He’s nowhere near as old as Keiji’s father.
Careful not to make any sound, Keiji freezes as he observes the blond boy, trying not to attract any attention. He seems a bit startled as he looks around, like he’s unsure where he is or how he got here. He’s also making a funny face, eyes narrowed in a way that makes a giggle escape from Keiji’s lips before he can control himself.
The boy’s head whips around and his gaze immediately lands on Keiji’s spot in the grass. His eyes are still pinched and he’s frowning in a way that reminds Keiji of his grandma’s face when she tries to read a recipe from her book but doesn’t have her reading glasses. Maybe the boy needs glasses too?, he wonders.
“Aka—Keiji?”, the boy asks with a tilt of his head, like he recognizes Keiji.
That in itself isn’t that odd. He’s no stranger to being recognized by people he doesn't know—it just usually happens at family gatherings that he’s been dragged to, with people who always want to pinch his cheeks like he’s a baby (he’s not, he’s eight) and not with naked boys in his grandmother’s garden.
His response is what he’s been told to do, over and over again, by every adult in his life.
“I’m gonna scream,” Keiji announces.
“Please don’t,” the boy protests but he sounds resigned already. Not the reply Keiji expected, but then again he didn’t really expect anything. Let alone a naked boy in his grandmother’s garden. “Or if you do, could you get me some pants or a blanket first? I don’t really want to be charged for public indecency, too.”
Keiji knows he’s smart. He knows because people tell him he is and because he reads a lot and that’s what smart people do, grandma says, but he doesn’t quite understand what the boy is talking about. Knowledge is everything , grandma always tells him, never hesitate to ask . So he doesn’t and, for now, decides to put the screaming plan on hold.
“What’s public in-dee-cent-sea?”
“It means the police don't like it when you’re naked in public”, the boy explains. He hasn’t made any attempt to move from his spot in the grass, but his body is twitching a little with shivers. Maybe he’s cold. Maybe that’s why the police don’t like naked people, because they get cold and cold people get sick and that’s just a waste of time. That’s what Keiji’s father says at least.
“So… about the clothes?” The boy prompts again when Keiji remains quiet.
He thinks about it for a second but then ultimately decides he wants to ask more questions, so he gets up and races back to the house, picking up the first blanket he spots and then sprints back as quickly as his legs can carry him.
“Why don’t the police like naked people?” He huffs, slightly out of breath, once he’s back and drops the blanket into the boy's lap who promptly wraps himself in it. He shrugs.
“I don’t actually know.”
Disappointing, but at eight years old Keiji has already learned the harsh truth that even grown-ups don’t have all the answers all of the time. They just like to pretend they do. Plus, he has plenty of other questions he can ask.
“Why’s your face like that?” He imitates the scrunched up expression and narrowed eyes from before. It’s less scrunched up now that Keiji’s closer but his eyes still look slightly pinched. Keiji can tell their colour now—it reminds him of the buttercups he’s been plucking and weaving together into a clumsy braid.
“I left my glasses.” The boy squints down at the braid. “You’re doing that all wrong.”
“Where did you leave them? And how is it wrong?” Keiji fires back.
“In another time.” Keiji giggles at that. Silly , he thinks. “You need to add the flowers earlier for more support. Even I can tell that it’s about to fall apart any minute.”
Keiji stares at his braid. It does look a bit flimsy, maybe the boy is right. He decides to follow his advice.
“Is that where you left your clothes too? In another time?” He pauses to add more flowers. Maybe he’ll make it a crown for the boy, it would go nicely with his blond hair. “Are you a time traveller?”
No reply.
When he looks up, the boy is gone. The only sign that he ever was there, the blanket resting in the grass and another much thicker flower crown laying next to it. Keiji didn’t even notice him making that. He picks it up with careful fingers and puts it on his head. It fits perfectly.
Kei, age 10
If you ask ten year old Kei, this whole time travel business is not as bad as Akiteru first made it out to be. Sure, he’d prefer to keep his clothes on when he travels, but he enjoys meeting Akiteru in his different stages of life and even his mother every now and then when he jumps to visit her. He doesn’t enjoy meeting himself, but thankfully that doesn’t happen quite as often. Home is other people, after all. Kei doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to feel truly at home by himself and he doesn’t want to think about the implications of what exactly that means, either.
It doesn’t ever occur to him that there are other people he’s been visiting—or will be visiting?—That there are other people who know his older self, who think that means that they know him, too. That is, until he meets Yamaguchi.
One scoffed “ pathetic ” and he’s met with wide brown eyes, staring up to him incredulously, and a jaw dropping.
“You!” The boy gasps. It sounds like he recognises Kei, unbelievable as that sounds. But then Kei remembers who he is, remembers that unbelievable is part of his DNA.
Turns out Yamaguchi does know him, he explains later. “But I’ve only met you when you’re a bit older than now, but never older than 16 I think.” It’s amazing how none of this seems to disconcert Yamaguchi even a bit.
Kei wishes he could deal with it as well as Yamaguchi does, but he mostly feels seen in a way so intense at moments, he can only describe it as too much. He’ll click his tongue in annoyance or fiddle with his fingers when he tries his hardest to not be nervous and Yamaguchi’s eyes will light up again with recognition, like something has clicked into place for him.
But maybe it’s not the worst thing in the world, being known, especially when Kei gets a friend out of it in return, someone he can learn to know as well. So he’s willing to deal with the unbalance, but every now and then he wonders if there are other people out there who already know him inside out, other people just waiting to meet him. The thought is unsettling.
Kei vows to stay to himself. Akiteru can be his home for now, and sometimes Yamaguchi too, but that’s it. That’s all he’ll allow himself.
Keiji, age 15
Kei, older
It’s already late when Keiji gets home from school, but not late enough for his parents to be home. He prefers it that way, basks in the quiet of the apartment, only occasionally interrupted by the rumble of the city outside.
He carefully slips off his shoes, takes off the jacket and tie that are part of the school uniform, carefully hanging them over the crook of his elbow to carry them to his room to put them away properly.
Then he silently slips into his room, closes the door behind, turns around and almost drops his bag and clothes at the sight of the blond man sitting in his desk chair, squinting up at Keiji.
“Kei,” he breathes.
He has seen this version of him before and if Keiji’s being honest with himself, this one might be his favourite. Blond hair at its longest, just a centimetre or two short of falling into his eyes, and curling a little at the ends. Early twenties, Keiji wonders if he’s already working at the museum or still a student. Part of him wants to ask, just so he can see that little frown appear that’s always there when Kei learns about his own future. For a time traveller, he’s way too serious about spoiling his own life sometimes.
He’s wearing some of Keiji’s father’s clothes—old jeans that are slightly too short because Kei is tall and a knit sweater that's a little too big because he’s also slim. Part of Keiji is glad he arrived late enough for Kei to already be dressed. After all, he is a hormonal teenager and he’d rather not embarrass himself in front of his… in front of Kei.
Kei smiles at him, eyes narrowed in their usual familiar squint. “Keiji. I don’t think I’ve seen you in this uniform before.” Keiji, inexplicably, blushes at that.
“I doubt you can call what you’re doing ‘seeing’”, he replies, slightly embarrassed but trying to hide it, and then distracts himself by digging through his school bag. There! He pulls out the slim black glasses case and hands it to Kei, before turning away to quickly put his clothes away.
Kei slips the glasses on, humming a quiet ‘thank you’.
“Have you been carrying them around all year?”, he asks with a smile. He looks fond.
Squaring his shoulders, Keiji stares back at him. “Yes.” Now it’s Kei who blushes so Keiji marks it as a victory, even if it comes at the price of a little bit too much honesty. “I also have clothes for you stashed in my locker. But glasses are too expensive for me to have duplicates, so I just carry them with me.”
He hopes for the soft pink on Kei’s cheeks to deepen, but instead Kei frowns. “You didn’t have to buy those for me.”
Keiji wants to roll his eyes at him. He can be so stupid sometimes. It’s moments like these that Keiji feels older than him, which is quite a feat considering that Kei is the only person that can make Keiji feel his age as much as he does. I just want to meet you , he thinks. The You that’s for me, in my time, that won’t leave again after ten minutes.
“But I wanted to. You can just pay me back when we meet for the first time.” It’s a strange sentence to say and Keiji enjoys the novelty of it. Spending time with Kei means saying a lot of sentences he’s sure nobody has ever said before.
“About that,” Kei starts, when Keiji finally puts his bag down and takes a seat on his bed. “I think, next time you’ll meet me, that’ll be it.”
A thousand emotions race through him at the same time. Hope, fear, joy, nervousness. He can’t decipher them all, but he can feel his body tense in anticipation.
“When?” He shoots back.
Kei shakes his head. “Trust the process. Not too long, I’m sure.” The soft smile on his face slips a little and he looks down at his hands, where they are in his lap pulling at his fingers.. “Be patient with me. I’m a bit of a handful.” Keiji wants to scoff at that. He’s already met a bunch of Keis in all their different stages. So far, all of them have been easy to be with.
“You can’t be a bigger handful than my teammate.” He feels a bit bad as he says that. He should’ve phrased it kinder. Bokuto is a good guy. A great player and more importantly an even greater friend.
Something glints in Kei’s eyes at that. “Let me guess,” he says with a sly grin. “Big guy, the Ace. Silver-grey hair. Very enthusiastic. Likes to say ‘Hey hey hey’ a lot.”
“So you know Bokuto,” Keiji replies and tries not to show his annoyance at that. He’s not even sure why the thought of Kei knowing Bokuto bothers him so much. He should be happy because doesn’t that mean he’ll have Bokuto in his life in the future too, but all he can think is that Kei won’t be his, only his any longer. He frowns at himself for the thought. It’s unbecoming.
“I kissed him.” He’s not quite sure why he says that. Mostly he’s hoping for a reaction. Maybe a small petty part wants to make Kei jealous, but no matter what he hopes for, Kei doesn’t react in any way he expected. (That much still hasn’t changed over the years.)
Instead he laughs. “I know.”
Keiji wants to scream in frustration. He’s never felt more inexperienced and fifteen in his life. Damn him. Damn Kei and his stupid time travel knowledge.
“Now tell me about your life. I’m sure you haven’t seen me in a while.”
Keiji has half a mind to annoy Kei in return by revealing his future at the museum to him, but eventually decides to let it go. He’ll have plenty of time to poke fun at him in the future. That much he knows.
Kei, age 15
When he steps foot into Karasuno’s gym for the first time, he feels himself freezing against his will.
“Tsukki?” Yamaguchi whispers from somewhere behind Kei’s shoulder as Kei surveys the gym. Eyes flitting from person to person, scanning their faces looking for that little something, that little spark of recognition.
Nothing. His shoulders sag in relief and he moves forward again, making his way inside.
“It’s nothing, Yamaguchi.” He doesn’t have to look over his shoulder to know that Yamaguchi is frowning at him.
Kei hasn’t travelled in time for a while now, apart from the occasional jump to Yamaguchi but even those are rare. Never to Akiteru, not anymore.
Things have been tense at home, ever since Kei found out the truth. Not that Akiteru is home much, but his presence still lingers, reminding Kei of his betrayal at every corner.
Maybe that’s why he’s still playing volleyball, to spite his brother’s memory. Or maybe to make him proud. It doesn’t really matter. He’d admit to neither out loud.
So what if he feels lonely sometimes? He doesn’t need anybody. No more jumping around time, no more secrets, no more people to hurt him. He prefers it that way.
Even in his head that sounds like a lie.
Keiji, age 16
Kei, age 15
It takes all his effort not to turn around when he hears the telltale sound of the gym doors being pushed open. It’s been a frustrating year for Keiji, knowing that he’ll meet the real Kei soon. Not that the other Keis aren’t real to him, quite the opposite actually, but just thinking about the possibilities makes his thoughts spiral in a way that leaves him breathless.
It’s been like that every training match with a new team, every tournament, sometimes even when he goes to the bookstore. Rationally he knows that they’ll meet through volleyball, Kei’s told him as much, but what does that really mean? Couldn’t you argue that he can meet someone through volleyball, when he goes out to pick up some new knee pads or the occasional edition of his favourite volleyball magazine he likes to splurge on every now and then? Couldn’t you say that most things Keiji does are about volleyball in some shape or form? Couldn’t you—
Two sharp claps shake him from his thoughts, as Coach Yamiji dismisses the team. Keiji is a bit ashamed of himself for missing so much of the briefing, but then that hardly seems important when he turns around to get back to his starting position and his eyes land on a familiar head of blond hair.
Keiji freezes.
Oh.
He’s here.
A million thoughts race through his head. He looks so young, younger than Keiji has ever seen him before. It should be obvious, considering that this Kei doesn’t know him yet, but Keiji doesn’t want to dwell on that. Not when there are so many new details to learn. His hair is shorter than he’s used to — maybe this is when he started to grow it out a little? — but that makes it look fluffier. He’s still tall, probably taller than Keiji already which annoys him a little, but he’s more lanky than anything else. His face is as impassive as ever, but it’s also softened by some baby fat stubbornly clinging to his cheeks. Probably a first year, Keiji decides and the realisation that Keiji is finally older than him fills him with smug satisfaction.
He wants to go there and introduce himself so badly, but no. It’s too early, too quick. Be patient with me , Kei’s words echo in his mind. He’s not your Kei just yet , Keiji reminds himself. For now he’s—
“Tsukishima, hurry up. I wanna play!”
Stretching his hands, Keiji turns his attention back to his team. Be patient.
He’s never had trouble being patient before, but today he can feel Tsukishima’s presence buzzing in his nape like a particularly incessant mosquito.
Luckily for him, he doesn’t have to test his patience for much longer. All it takes is a little over two hours and an overexcited Bokuto hitting a spike towards the far corner of the field that goes off course with power, careening towards Tsukishima who happens to be walking past the sideline on his way to the bench.
Keiji’s legs carry him towards him before he can even think about moving, ignoring what he knows must be his teammates exchanging curious looks behind his back, but the volleyball has already connected with the other’s face.
“Are you okay?” The words rush out as he comes to a halt, eyes surveying Kei—no, Tsukishima —as he slowly shakes his head and takes off his sports goggles with a frustrated click of his tongue and a squint so familiar it makes Keiji’s heart clench. There’s an angry red spot resting high on his cheek, right where it connected with the ball.
“I’m fine,” his voice is not as deep as it will be, but Keiji enjoys the monotone cadence of it. It’s soothing. “My glasses, however, not so much.”
Keiji looks down at the goggles in Tsukishima’s hands. The lenses are still in place, but very much cracked. “Do you have a spare pair?”, he asks.
Tsukishima shakes his head again. “Not here with me.”
Keiji tries his best to suppress the smile that wants to break out from his lips, but he fears he doesn’t quite succeed.
“I can help with that,” he offers, carefully grabbing Tsukishima by his elbow with a soft “I hope this is okay” and leading him to Keiji’s bag nearby. It’s probably weird, he’s being weird, but Tsukishima doesn’t complain, although Keiji suspects he wants to, so he counts that as a win, quickly combing through his bag to take out the spare pair of glasses.
He hands them over to Tsukishima, eyes scanning his face, hungry for any sort of reaction.
Tsukishima frowns. “I don’t think these will work—,” he starts.
“They will.”
The frown deepens. Keiji decides it’s even cuter on this version of him.
“Do you wear glasses?” Tsukishima asks after a pause, lifting his eyes from the glasses to squint at Akaashi instead.
“No.”
Something flickers across his face, before it quickly smoothes back into an impassive state. Surprise, Keiji thinks, who’s had a lot of practice reading Kei’s face. Maybe even apprehension.
“How long?”
“How long have I had the glasses or you?” Keiji returns with a smile that comes with the confidence of knowing a person travelled through time just to meet you, purposefully or not.
It’s hard to tell due to the red spot left by the volleyball attack, but it looks like Tsukishima blushes, even with the frown slipping back into place.
“Both,” he huffs, sounding a little annoyed.
“You since I was eight, the glasses only for a couple of years.”
A loud cough draws Kejis attention away. Karasuno’s captain is hovering close-by, arms crossed and worried expression on his face
“I think you’re needed by your team,” Keiji explains with a nod pointing in the direction of the captain, before excusing himself to return to his own. He can’t believe he finally met him.
Kei, age 15
Keiji, age 16
Trainingscamp is different from what Kei expected, to say the least. It’s exhausting, both physically— not surprising, that one—and emotionally. When he’s not being baited into extra training by two annoying and overly enthusiastic captains, there’s Yamaguchi challenging his attitude and sure, maybe he deserves that, but that doesn’t mean he has to like it.
And then there’s Akaashi-san, the quiet setter from Fukurodani with the pretty blue eyes. The one who has known him since he was eight years old apparently. Where the revelation with Yamaguchi was a bit like being doused with ice water, an initial shock followed by slowly acclimating to the new status quo, with Akaashi it’s nothing like that. It’s like he’s suddenly developed a sixth sense, discovered a new colour just for him and now it’s everywhere, his own personal Baader Meinhof effect.
He hates how all over the place it makes him. He’s constantly torn between trying to impress him—and isn’t that embarrassing? The last person Kei wanted to impress was Akiteru and he wasn’t even in middle school back then—or trying to ignore everything about him. It doesn’t help that his eyes always keep wandering to observe Akaashi against Kei’s will. He’s just so unreadable, focussing on the game as if it’s the only thing in the world, but then he’ll turn around to meet Kei’s eyes across the gym. Even with the distance, Kei feels like Akaashi can stare into his soul and read him like a book. It’s intimidating.
“I get it,” Kageyama grumbles, standing next to him when they’re both taking a water break. “He’s a good setter. I want to learn from him, too.”
That’s the worst part. Everybody knows.
He’ll return exhausted from another extra training session at the third gym, only for Yamaguchi to welcome him back with a cheeky grin and a “Training late with Fukurodani’s setter again?”
Even worse, Kuroo-san will slide in the seat next to him, throw an arm over his shoulders because he’s a heathen with a complete disregard for personal space, and say something like, “Are you coming to extra practice again today? I’m sure Akaashi will be very disappointed if you don’t show up.”
And yet, he still shows up at the third gym by the end of the day. He tells himself it’s only so he can ask his question, but the way he instinctively wants to walk over to Akaashi once he steps foot inside, tells another story.
“But once that moment arrives for you,” Bokuto declares, lifting his finger to point straight at Kei—and really it should be comical with how dramatic the entire thing is, but laughing couldn’t be further from his mind right now when he can hear his heart thudding in his chest with the revelation, “that’s the moment you’ll be hooked on volleyball.”
Kei feels his eyes widening and then his vision drifts ever so slightly to the left to where Akaashi is standing, arms hidden behind his back, already looking at Kei in return. He wonders if you can have that moment in more than one way. If you can get hooked on a person too and if it has already happened and he missed it.
Bokuto claps his hands, shaking Kei from his thoughts. “Now help with blocking, I answered your question,” and with that, two hands on his back push him deeper inside the gym.
It happens an hour later, they’re about to pack things up and head to dinner, when Kei feels the familiar pull deep inside his stomach. Panic takes hold of him and instinctively his eyes search for Akaashi who’s staring at him wide-eyed in return, as if he’s seen Kei do that panicked face before, like he knows exactly what it means, and he crosses the hall in quick strides. Cool fingers grab hold of his elbow and Kei can’t even pay mind to the goosebumps it sends down his arm, not when all he can think about is that he’s about to vanish in front of the worst collection of people to witness such a thing—Hinata and Lev probably couldn’t keep a secret to save their life.
“Tsukishima isn’t feeling well, we’re going to find a teacher,” he hears Akaashi’s voice float by. It sounds far away, despite the fact that Kei knows he’s standing right beside him. Then the grip on his elbow tightens and he’s being led.
He feels so stupid for not considering that something like this could’ve happened at camp. But then again, he hasn’t really jumped in years and surely he hasn’t known Akaashi long enough to already jump to him.
They barely make it through the doors. Two steps to the side, and just as Kei wonders what Akiteru would have to say about all of this, the world vanishes before his eyes.
Kei, age 15
“Kei?”
Oh, isn’t this fitting.
“Hey, Aki,” he replies softly, taking in his surroundings. From the looks of it, it’s Akiteru’s first student apartment, not that Kei’s been here much but it’s both messy and organised at the same time, the way only a first year med student’s apartment can be.
“Here,” Akiteru hands him the soft woollen blanket that always used to be Kei’s favourite. It’s oddly touching, considering their circumstances.
“I’d offer you a seat—,” Akiter finishes the sentence with a sweep of his arm to highlight a lack of pretty much everything, that isn’t his brother’s futon or the medical books that cover it.
“It’s fine,” Kei shrugs and sits on the floor instead. Was it always this awkward between them?
“Look at you,” Akiteru whispers and then lets out an embarrassed chuckle. “How old are you? 15, 16? I think this has to be the youngest I’ve seen you since—” He cuts off abruptly, but the unsaid words hang in the air between them. “Unless…?” There’s something hopeful in his eyes that gives the next words a metallic taste on Kei’s tongue.
“No, this is the first time I’ve visited you in years.”
Akiteru tries to hide his disappointment remarkably well, but they’re brothers. Kei’s seen those hunched shoulders before, seen Akiteru try to suppress their trembling.
“But I think I needed to see you,” he tacks on. A peace offering.
Akiteru lights up at that and Kei can feel an old wound in his chest begin to heal at that.
“I met someone,” he continues before Akiteru can even say anything. He needs to say it all at once or he’ll be too embarrassed to do it later. Already, he can feel his cheeks heating up with a blush. “But he’s met me before…” He pauses, unsure, but then figures it’s best to let it all out. “I think he’s special.”
Akiteru looks so elated, Kei just knows he’ll regret this later. But for now he talks and Akiteru listens and maybe that’s all Kei needed. A space to get his thoughts out of his head.
Later when he runs out of words and feelings to pour from his heart, he asks: “Why’d you decide to study medicine anyways? You never told me that.” Neither of them mentions that they weren’t exactly on good terms then.
Akiteru gives him an incredulous look, one that says my-little-brother-is-an-idiot.
“Why do you think, Kei? Which one of us inherited a genetic time travel condition?”
Suddenly Kei feels like crying. So many words get stuck in his throat, choking him. For me? , he wants to ask. But we weren’t talking , he wants to say. I love you. That one’s hidden beneath all of them. You’re a good brother. Better than I deserve. Maybe he should tell him that once he gets back to his own time.
“Aki,” is the only word that manages to dislodge itself from his throat and Akiteru gives a sheepish shrug.
“You know, you visited me that night,” an awkward cough makes clear exactly what night Akiteru is alluding to. “ You were a lot older. Older than I am now and after you left I just couldn’t stop thinking that you’d have to live with this for the rest of your life, that you’d never be able to travel further than a few hours by car and you deserve better than that, Kei, so I’m trying my best to change that.”
God, Kei hates his stupid brother and his good heart. What can he say to that? What even is there to say?
“Well, I’m not looking forward to having that conversation with you,” he deadpans instead because he truly isn’t and after a moment of silence, they both burst into laughter.
Keiji, age 16
Kei, age 15
It’s strange, Keiji has never been in this position before. The one left behind, the one waiting for Kei to return. Not like this, at least. He wonders how much worse it’ll get, the older they’ll be, as he bundles up the clothes Tsukishima left behind.
It takes Tsukishima almost an hour to return during which Keiji reluctantly takes a quick dinner break, puts some food for Tsukishima aside to take with him and then returns to his post.
He always wanted to know how it works, always wondered if Kei just returned to the place he left from.
He gets the answer, when Tsukishima appears exactly in the same spot where Keiji felt him slip from his grasp, standing naked and shivering under the shimmering moonlight. His skin is so pale, it almost seems to glow.
Oh God, he’s naked. Keij didn’t think this through, did he?
Ignoring the violent blush that spreads on his face, he quickly gathers up Tsukishima’s clothes and thrusts them into his chest. Which is still very much naked. Yup. Just checking.
He quickly snaps his eyes away, landing on Tsukishima’s face. Even in the dark, Keiji can tell there’s a red flush to his it that spreads down his neck and—No, Keiji really doesn’t need to know this much information.
He abruptly turns away, giving Tsukishima a modicum of privacy.
There’s some shuffling, the slick slide of fabric on skin and then Tsukishima clears his throat: “You can turn around now.”
When he does, Tsukishima is fully dressed but something is still missing. Oh right, his glasses. Carefully, Keiji slips them from the front pocket of his shirt where he stored them away for safe-keeping and reaches out to slide them onto Tsukishima’s face.
What are you doing?
, part of him screams on the inside, but then is promptly shut up when instead of slapping Keiji away or looking at him weirdly, Tsukishima awkwardly bows his head a little to allow Keiji easier access.
Cute.
“Thank you, Akaashi-san,” Tsukishima mumbles and then straightens back up again.
“Just Akaashi is fine,” Keiji offers in return and he really shouldn’t be as embarrassed by that as he is. Not when Kei has been calling him by his given name for years.
“Thank you then, Akaashi,” Tsukishima amends and God, now they’re both back to blushing again.
They don’t talk about it, not for the rest of camp but Keiji can tell that something has changed. If there was any further doubt, it’s thoroughly destroyed when Keiji moves over to where Kuroo and Bokuto are already harassing Tsukishima in front of Karasuno’s bus in lieu of simply saying goodbye.
“Come Tsukki, please,” Bokuto wails, dramatically throwing an arm over the younger’s shoulder.
“Bokuto-san, it’s not polite to not take no for an answer,” Keiji interrupts and has to suppress an amused smile at the anguished “Akaaaaashi” he gets in return.
“Akaashi,” Tsukishima greets, shrugging Bokuto’s arm off his shoulder.
Kuroo watches the whole ordeal with a dangerous glint in his eyes and Keiji already vows to avoid that pain-in-the-ass for the rest of the day, lest he wants to be needled by his annoying questions.
Suddenly, a phone is thrust in front of his eyes.
“Would you give me your number please?” Tsukishima manages to sound bored, but the faint blush on his face betrays him.
Wordlessly, Keiji takes the phone and inputs his contact information, ignoring Kuroo’s scandalised squawk and Bokuto’s dejected “Not fair, Tsukki”.
Karasuno’s bus hasn’t even been gone for five minutes, when his phone vibrates with the first new message.
Kei , age 15 and older
There’s lots of things after that.
There’s the bus ride back home which is spent texting back and forth with Akaashi. Kei reluctantly agrees to be added to a group chat and then tries his best to ward off a pesky cat and owl duo that floods his inbox.
There’s the surprise of getting home to Akiteru, home for the weekend, who grins at him and asks if he has met his special boy yet and Kei instantly regrets ever telling Akiteru anything, secretly vowing to not tell Akiteru that he’s a good brother for at least another year as punishment.
He gives in much sooner, after one particularly nasty spike by Ushijima sends Kei off the field into his brother’s waiting arms.
There’s his moment in that same game and Kei finally falls in love with volleyball.
There’s phone calls in the evening and text conversations that turn from nail biting anguish where Kei overthinks every message at least five times before he sends it and Akaashi doesn’t seem to be faring much butter, into a comfortable back and forth.
There’s a different moment, too, months later. Much quieter than the first one but no less important: He’s in Tokyo, meeting up with Akaashi, Bokuto and Kuroo for lunch and when Bokuto somehow manages to get a noodle up his nose and Akaashi ends up laughing so hard it brings tears to his eyes.
That’s when Kei can feel himself falling a second time.
Akaashi, age 17 and older
There’s lots of things after that.
There’s falling in love with the same person twice, but from different times. A feat Keiji didn’t think was possible, but he doesn’t mind being proven wrong about that. He’d fall in love with Kei a third time if he could. Especially when he gets to witness Kei’s growth as he blossoms into the person Keiji knew he would be.
There’s their first kiss, shy and sweet, at Keiji’s graduation, followed by many other kisses, decidedly less shy and sweet.
There’s university and Kei rejecting the Sendai Frogs offer as a season regular, due to his little time jumping problem which has only become more frequent as he’s gotten older. The blow is softened, however, one night when Kei returns from another jump into the future and announces with a hopeful smile, “Akiteru figured it out”.
There’s looking for apartments together once Akaashi has graduated university, ready to find a new place to call home before he settles into his job life, and when Kei walks through the doors of the sixth listing they’re looking at, Keiji can see the recognition in his eyes. “This is the one,” he laughs softly, “I’ve been here before. You’re going to end up putting your bookshelves—”
Keiji shuts him up by slapping a hand over his mouth.
“No spoilers,” he hisses, but there isn’t any anger behind it. He’s too happy for that.
BONUS
Kei, age 18
He’s in his student dorm, doing his assigned reading, when he feels the familiar pull to his stomach that occasionally precedes his jumps. The feeling is less urgent than it used to be, so Kei simply closes his eyes and lets it wash over him as he’s being carried through time and space.
He opens his eyes, fully expecting to see Keiji’s blurry face, but instead he’s met with two awful hairstyles he could recognise in his sleep.
No.
This is not happening.
As if he could hear his thoughts, Kuroo bursts into his ugly hyena laugh and by the blurry flash of white, Bokuto flashes him a wide smile.
“Heya Tsukki,” Bokuto greets. “Clothes are in the basket behind you.”
No.
No .
Kei reaches behind him and sure enough, there’s a basket with one pair of soft sweatpants—Kuroo’s — and a loose shirt—Bokuto's—inside, and isn’t it worrying that he knows that. He hurriedly puts them on, decidedly ignoring Kuroo who wheezes out: “Why so fast, Tsukki? It’s nothing we haven’t seen before, right Bo?”
With that Kuroo elbows Bokuto in the side who just nods happily, like there’s nothing weird about their friend appearing naked out of nowhere in their apartment.
“This has happened before,” Kei states the obvious, realisation bitter—and maybe just a little sweet—in his mouth.
“Yes,” Kuroo replies with glee.
“I hate this,” Kei continues.
“You said that the first time, too.” Kuroo barely manages to get the words out before bursting into his hacking laugh again.