A/N: If you like this story, please consider supporting me on ko-fi! <3
xXx
May 14th, 2018
It had been harder and harder for Sakusa to sleep as of late. Nightmares aside, the ability of simply falling asleep evaded him, existing just out of reach from his limber hands. So he got up sometime past one in the morning, made himself a cup of warm almond milk, and shuffled to the balcony. The air was bitingly cold outside, but Sakusa stayed there anyway, elbows propped on the railing. His nightshirt, which was just an over-sized long-sleeved sweatshirt the shade of an unripe banana, hung loosely on his frame, occasionally tickling his abdomen.
Basking in the quiet, Sakusa sipped on his milk.
He lived in a rather secluded area in the city, his house built on the top of a small hill. As he drank, he could hear the faint honking of cars in the distance. Tokyo didn't sleep. Big cities normally didn't.
Atsumu had been an excellent distraction all day. It was evident, from both his story and his actions, that he hadn't had anyone to spend the day with like they had today for a long, long time. Maybe Atsumu had pretended Sakusa was Osamu when he deposited an armful of off-brand toothpaste into the shopping cart this afternoon. He couldn't know for sure, but it was on the table.
But now that he was not here—instead in the next room—Sakusa was free to let his mind wander in undesirable directions.
He clutched his mug tightly, not even caring that the heat radiating from the ceramic was starting to burn his palm.
I miss you.
His absence made him feel small. Vulnerable. And while Sakusa did not like being either of those things, it was undeniably true.
Komori.
He missed him more than ever.
Komori wasn't even his first name. No, his first name had been Motoya, but Sakusa had always called him Komori.
If Komori were still here, he would have never, ever felt this alone. It wounded his pride to admit it, but Komori had been a steadying presence in his life. And when he had passed, Sakusa had unraveled like yarn.
Sometimes, he liked to think what he could have changed. What decisions he could have made to stop the people around him from disappearing forever from his life. It was a useless adventure—logically, Sakusa knew this. But it was one he could not help but indulge in, anyway, from time to time.
You would've known what to do. Sakusa stared out into the night. From here, he could see the stars. A rare sight, especially in a metropolis like Tokyo. What to say. Maybe, you could've even stopped Goshiki from—
No. No, no, no. He would not entertain that thought. It was too dangerous. Too dangerous and awful and plain disrespectful to everyone involved.
Goshiki.
Goshiki.
His falling figure still haunted his dreams, eyes blown wide and hand reaching for the purple sky—a hand Sakusa would have never been able to catch. He'd been so hurt. Shattered to the point where he had thought it would be better to end his life than to continue living it.
Just like my father.
What had been going through their heads? Sakusa didn't understand. Didn't want to understand, because a tiny part of him feared that he, too, would point his toes toward that path if he understood.
Was it my fault, then? Sakusa mulled over the possibility. Did I... push him closer to that edge? He shuddered.
And the things Goshiki had said. Oh, the things he had said, without knowing that those would fill his brain tonight and every other night.
"Prosecutor... Hah... Haha! Justice hinges on you. But who are you? Who are you to decide what justice is? What it should be?"
"What about me? Do I somehow have less of a say, even though I was the one who he wronged? Is that why everyone is trying to stop me down there? How is that fair?"
"Why do we follow the law? The law which says its wrong to exact justice on my own terms? Why should the law exist?"
"My father does not owe your family justice!"
Sakusa almost dropped his cup over the balcony, the liquid sloshing inside.
Where had everything gone wrong? He swept through the entire timeline of his own life in his head, but he could not pinpoint an exact time, or even a time period. Maybe things had always been wrong, then.
Vigilante justice was not the answer. Never the answer.
Then what is?
Sakusa thought.
xXx
When he was young—perhaps twelve or thirteen—the old man living next door passed away, and a new family moved in.
Sakusa watched from the window of his room, impassive, as a couple in their late-thirties came out of the car to consolidate with the movers. Then the green-haired kid came out, pushing his spectacles upward with long, spindly fingers. For whatever reason, he carried with him an a Russian nesting doll, which he was careful not to drop on the sidewalk.
To his surprise, his father went outside to greet the family. He carried most of the conversation—the boy's mother merely nodded along, while the boy's father seemed to be in deep thought.
Later, he learned the family went by Midorima.
The boy's name was Shintaro.
And their fathers were colleagues.
xXx
November 25th, 2006
"I know the secrets to the universe."
Laying in the grass (on a blanket) beside him, Sakusa Kiyoomi turned his head, the coarse material of the blanket irritating his cheek. "What?"
"I said," Midorima repeated, "I know the secrets to the universe."
Midorima Shintaro was weird. Sakusa was decidedly unimpressed by his declaration. For god's sake, Midorima was sixteen. Four years older than Sakusa was, and he still played make-believe.
When the Midorima family had first moved into the empty house next to Sakusa's, he hadn't expected the green-haired teen to be his quasi-playmate. He was supposed to just have been the neighbor's kid, someone that Sakusa could never know the name of and still keep living. But it turned out that their fathers were friends of sorts, and now they had to be friends of sorts, too.
Currently, the both of them were sprawled on a grassy slope, enjoying the cool November afternoon breeze. Midorima's spectacles had a tint that automatically showed up when a certain amount of sunlight was present in the area. Sakusa thought that was cool. Futuristic, almost.
"You're pretty lame, Shintaro," Sakusa told him, needlessly blunt as he typically was.
"And you're narrow-minded," accused Midorima. "Kiyoomi. Unfortunate, but not unexpected—Scorpios do have a penchant of being realistic to the point of being anal about every little thing. You were born on November twentieth, too—the end of the scorpion. The tail. The stinger."
"Awesome." Sakusa did not, in fact, think it was awesome.
"Hm. According to today's Oha-Asa reading, something serendipitous is going to happen to Cancer, so I'll suffer your impudence for now." He pushed up his glasses. Sakusa didn't see why he needed to do that. There was no way his spectacles were slipping off his nose—gravity didn't work that way when one was lying down, even on an incline.
Sakusa was skeptical. "So those are the secrets to the universe, then?"
"Pretty much. But," Midorima sat up, grass sticking to the back of his shirt, "'Luck is what happens when preparation meets opportunity'. Seneca. Things may sway in my favor today, but if I do nothing about it, nothing good will come of it. We reap what we sow, Kiyoomi. Man proposes, God disposes, but the inverse is also true."
"I know," Sakusa said, but he didn't. Not really.
Contrary to the belief of his father and mother, Sakusa quite liked Midorima, even though they had only known each other for a few months. Yes, he was weird and eccentric, but he was also solemn and reliable and clever. Traits that Sakusa saw in himself. He had no siblings, but he couldn't help but imagine that, if he were to have an older brother, he would be just like Midorima.
When he grew up, he would be just like Midorima. Minus the weird parts, of course. It did pique his curiosity, though, how Midorima had built his life around his horoscope.
In the end, Sakusa relented and asked, "What about Scorpio?"
"You'd ought to be careful," Midorima said darkly. "Your luck is the absolute worst today."
Sakusa huffed, blowing a strand of curly hair away from his face. "Of course it is."
"You don't believe me?"
"I do. I just don't know if I should take it seriously or not."
A ghost of a smile appeared on Midorima's lips. "Guess we'll just have to find out. Got any toy trucks in your room? That'll protect you from being the universe's punching bag for today."
"Shut up, Shintaro. I'm not a little kid."
xXx
Midorima and Sakusa returned from the hills when it started getting warmer, the former walking with his lucky item for the day and latter walking with his blanket rolled up and tucked against his side. Sakusa hoped for some of his mother's lemonade when he entered Midorima's garden from the back gate. Marumi and Mahiro were Midorima's parents—both of them perfectly lovely and pleasant people. Mahiro, tall, dark-haired and bespectacled like his son—was an ace lawyer who ran his own firm with two business partners—Midorima and Co.—while Marumi was a socialite of sorts. Or a housewife. Or both. Sakusa couldn't really tell. But Marumi was beautiful, with her wavy green locks and heart-shaped face. She, too, was tall, just a few inches shorter than her husband. Midorima had gotten the best genes from the both of them.
As Sakusa had expected, Midorima's parents were having tea in the garden with Sakusa's own parents.
Sakusa Junji and Sakusa Shiko.
Sakusa padded away from Midorima and into the embrace of his mother. Her slender arms wrapped around his body as she hugged him from her chair, an umbrella overhead. Shiko was wearing one of her matronly dresses that made her look older than she really was. Pinned to her collar was her favorite emerald brooch. It had been a wedding gift from Junji, because a ring apparently hadn't sufficed.
"Did you have fun, Kiyoomi?" she inquired, softly. Shiko rarely smiled or laughed, but Sakusa could tell his mother was happy to see him.
"Yep." Sakusa let go of her, passing her the blanket. "Shintaro taught me about astrology and how to tell clouds apart."
"Oh, did he now? What cloud is that, then?" She pointed up at a random, passing cloud.
Sakusa didn't hesitate. "Cirrus."
"It's Stratus," Midorima corrected from the side, mildly exasperated at his posturing. "I'm impressed you managed to retain anything at all, though. Mom, do you have any lemonade?"
Marumi pointed to a table behind him, where a tray of the beverage sat. "Over there, dear. Let Kiyoomi-kun have some, too."
Shiko, still unsmiling, said, "You're too kind, Marumi-san."
"Nonsense, Shiko-san. Shintaro sees him as a little brother."
On the other side of the garden, Junji and Mahiro were speaking in low voices. Sakusa, half-seated in his mother's lap, frowned in their direction. His father was usually soft-spoken, but Mahiro less so. What were they conspiring? He wanted to ask, but Midorima was already bringing the tray of lemonade over to him. Sakusa thanked him and took a glass, Shiko following suit.
"Your lemonade is delicious as always," his mother complimented.
Marumi let out a high little laugh, daintily lifting one hand to her mouth. "I'll have to keep my ego in check if you and Kiyoomi-kun keep telling me the same thing every time, else I'd get a swollen head."
"Any idea what our husbands are speaking of?"
"I may have an inkling, but I also have an inkling that we'll find out very soon."
Find out what? Sakusa thought, impatient to know. Just say it already!
"Is this about dad's conglomerate friend?" Midorima asked, brow lowered as he sipped from his glass. Ice clinked.
"Financial analyst and investor," Marumi answered primly. Sakusa understood those words separately. "I suppose you could just call him a conglomerate head, though."
"Conglomerate head?" Shiko went wide-eyed. "That's impressive. He's impressive. He must be, to be a conglomerate head. How old is he?"
"I'm not sure, Shiko-san. I think he's in his mid-forties, but don't quote me on that."
As their mothers gossiped, Midorima pulled Sakusa aside. "Dad told me that an old friend of his will be visiting today," he informed Sakusa. "He's from Sendai, Miyagi."
"They sound stuffy," Sakusa opined rather scathingly. "Rich people always are."
"We're rich," Midorima reminded him, adjusting his glasses.
"Not conglomerate rich. That's a whole 'nother level of rich. More than our family fortunes combined rich." Sakusa would bet his trust fund on that. "But why'd they have to come today of all times? Ugh."
"What's up?"
"My cousin's coming over today," Sakusa mumbled, cheeks flushing slightly. Komori could be so embarrassing sometimes, with his loud voice and wide grin. He liked Komori well enough, but he didn't want Midorima to ever meet him.
At that moment, Shiko stood up and excused herself. "My sister and my nephew should be here soon," she said by way of explanation. "I'll bring them over, if that's okay with you, Marumi-san."
Marumi nodded, airily affable as she fluffed the collar of her mink coat. "By all means, Shiko-san! I would love to meet them. They sound delightful."
No, Sakusa thought bitterly. You'd hate them. I know you would. You already don't like my mom. You'd hate Aunt Tomoka! Aunt Tomoka didn't deserve to be hated, but he knew she would not be welcome here. Midorima Marumi already regarded Shiko with well-disguised condescension, and his mother was articulate and quiet. Tomoka was loud and hearty and every bit just like her silly son.
A question from Midorima sent him back to reality. "What's your cousin like?"
"Hm? Oh. He's..." Sakusa took a deep breath. "He's alright, I guess. Kind of annoying, but don't tell him I said that." That wasn't true. Sakusa enjoyed Komori's company, and he found him funny and easygoing more than he found him annoying.
Midorima smirked slightly. It made him look wicked and conniving, but it was probably just his face. "My lips are sealed."
To Sakusa's dismay, Komori tore into the beautiful, well-kept garden of the Midorima family ten minutes later, nearly trampling over Marumi's prized petunias. He screeched to a halt next to Sakusa, smiling that stupid smile of his. "Kiyoomi!"
He always got like this when it'd been a long time since they last saw each other. Sakusa sighed. "Hey, Komori."
"Motoya," he corrected.
"Komori."
"Still the same as ever, Kiyoomi."
Midorima was observing Komori like a prospective buyer might examine a panting, wide-eyed puppy behind a sheet of glass. Which was what Komori was as far as the older teen was concerned, Sakusa supposed.
"Oh..." Komori had noticed Midorima by now. He was a bit shy around strangers, which was probably for the best, really. It didn't help all that much that Midorima cut a rather intimidating figure either. "Ah, hi there. I'm Komori Motoya."
"Midorima Shintaro," said Midorima, curtly.
"He's my neighbor," added Sakusa. "He's a basketball player, y'know. Went to that fancy sports school, Teiko."
"No way! Seriously?! That's super cool." Komori looked up at Midorima, awed by this new information. "Didn't they have the Generation of Miracles over there?"
Midorima did his weird pushing-up-glasses thing again, compelling Sakusa to roll his eyes. "Indeed, we did."
Sakusa knew it wasn't his accomplishment to brag about, but he couldn't help but say, rather arrogantly, "He's one of them."
"For real? How do you guys do it?" Komori laughed. "Got any game tips to offer, Midorima-san?"
"He plays basketball, not volleyball."
Before either child could overwhelm Midorima with questions and deflections alike, Sakusa's aunt, Tomoka, entered the garden, arm-in-arm with Shiko. His aunt was tall and plump, a stark contrast to his short and weedy mother. Her fashion sense was also a lot less severe than Shiko's Victorian-style skirts and blouses, but also a lot more dowdy and simple compared to Marumi's modern dresses and coats. Today, Tomoka wore a dark brown cardigan that hung low and loose on her round frame.
Sakusa liked Aunt Tomoka. A lot more than he liked Aunt Terano at any rate.
"Oh," Midorima's back straightened as he noticed her, "This must be your aunt, right, Kiyoomi?"
"Yeah," Sakusa confirmed, fidgeting with his hands.
"I'll go and say hello."
As Midorima went off to do exactly that, Komori leaned in to whisper to Sakusa, "The atmosphere's kinda weird, don't you think?"
"How so?" Sakusa hissed back.
"Hey, I'm just saying. Everybody here seems so..." Komori glanced around, brows knitted in concern. "Uh... Well, I wouldn't say unfriendly, but..."
"It's like they're hiding something, right?" Sakusa decided to help him out a little.
"Yeah, that."
Sakusa scoffed, rolling up the sleeves of his blue sweater. Komori wouldn't survive a day with these people. He was far too open and far too friendly. They would eat him alive. "It's just how things are," he told his cousin, imperiously. "It's not like hanging out with your friends from school."
Komori looked distinctly uncomfortable. "That's awful."
"It's not that bad. You just gotta know what to say and how to act." Sakusa wasn't surprised Komori thought so, though. People like Komori would never understand. "Don't worry—you don't need to do any of that. Especially around me and Shintaro. We don't care as much about that stuff. Only the adults do." He nudged Komori. "Come on. I need to go greet your mom, and you need to greet mine."
"Oh, right. I almost forgot." Faithfully, Komori trotted after him.
This isn't so bad, Sakusa thought. He felt like a fool for even entertaining the thought of Midorima's premonition. He had been sure that Komori and Tomoka meeting the Midorima family would be the unlucky thing that happened to him today, but Tomoka and Marumi seemed to be getting along as well as Marumi would allow. Junji and Mahiro had joined the women in the conversation, too, and it almost looked like a normal family gathering. Shiko was content to sit on the side as the others talked, swirling her lemonade in her glass. Sometimes, Tomoka tried to draw her into the conversation. Yes, this wasn't bad at all. Sakusa had been worried for nothing. I guess Shintaro shouldn't be expecting anything 'serendipitous' today...
"Hope you don't mind us letting ourselves in!" a deep baritone derailed Sakusa's train of thought, and he snapped his head upwards to see a broad-shouldered man with a square jaw standing on the back patio of the Midorima's home. He must have come in through the front door and the house. Behind him, a waif-like girl lingered, half-hidden by her father.
"Ah, Daizen!" Mahiro welcomed him, waving him down. "It's good to see you again, old friend. Please—make yourself at home."
"Don't mind if I do, Hiro."
Junji stood to his full height, as if the situation had summoned something greater out of him. Excusing himself from the ladies, he joined Mahiro in greeting the mysterious man.
"Who's he?" Komori murmured.
"I don't know," replied Sakusa. Could it be, though...? Is this guy the rich guest we were talking about earlier? It had to be. There was no one else he could've been. That man had even entered the Midorima home without knocking.
"Another friend?" Tomoka was asking Shiko nearby.
Shiko's expression didn't change. "Yes, it seems so. I recognize him—he's Hirakawa Daizen, the head of HNN Foundation. He appeared in Japan Financial last month..."
Marumi laughed one of her cold, sharp laughs. "You've done your research, Shiko-san."
So that's who it is. Sakusa could always rely on his mother to be informed. He loved that about her very much. She kept herself smart.
Hirakawa Daizen was not the sort of man Sakusa expected to be running HNN Foundation, one of Japan's most prolific major companies. They produced everything from construction to fashion to some of the best actors and actresses currently on the scene. Sakusa had been expecting someone old and grey—a saggy, bloated old man past his prime, his company the only thing going for him.
But Daizen was young—not even fifty yet—handsome in a ruggedly-distinguished-gentleman sort of way, and... friendly? Sakusa narrowed his eyes. No, not friendly. Or was it? He couldn't get a read on him.
"He seems nice," Komori said, mildly.
"Yeah," Sakusa grunted. "Nice. I guess." He tried to peer around Daizen's shoulder as he descended the stairs to the garden. Who's that girl? His daughter? It was general knowledge that Daizen had two daughters. They had even been mentioned in Japan Financial before. There were rumors that he was grooming one of them, the older one, to be the heir to the company. Is this her, then? Or is she the spare?
From the way she held herself, she was most certainly the spare. She seemed so... timid.
Sakusa jumped when Daizen's arm suddenly lashed out and grabbed his daughter's wrist, pulling her forward to greet Junji and Mahiro. The other two men didn't even react to the abrupt motion, even when Noriko's mien was one of obvious discomfort. Had they not noticed? Or did they just see nothing wrong with what Daizen had just done?
"Hiro, Sakusa-san, this is my daughter, Noriko."
Noriko bowed to them deeply. "It's a pleasure to meet you," she said, her hands trembling ever so slightly. Sakusa couldn't see her eyes. Her hair was curtaining her face.
"She's lovely," Junji remarked. "You must be very proud of her, Hirakawa-san."
"She is lovely," agreed Daizen, and it was left at just that.
Noriko was released, and she just stood by the fence, not quite knowing what to do with herself. Then she noticed how the women of the gathering had converged by Shiko's table, and hesitated. Then she made her way to them, and Sakusa was about to stop paying attention to her when—
Midorima intercepted her path. "Hirakawa Noriko-san, right?"
Noriko blinked up at him. "That's correct. And you are...?"
"My name is Midorima Shintaro."
"Oh, of course." She smiled sweetly at him. "It's nice to meet you."
"Ahem." Midorima cleared his throat, the tips of his ear pinking slightly. "The feeling's mutual."
"According to today's Oha-Asa reading, something serendipitous is going to happen to Cancer."
Sakusa gulped, a numb feeling settling over him. Was this it, then? Was this Midorima's 'something serendipitous'? It sure looked like it.
"You'd ought to be careful. Your luck is the absolute worst today."
Nothing bad happened to Sakusa for the rest of the day.
xXx
June 1st, 2007
Ugh. Sakusa glowered at the two imbeciles shaking their wet hands in the hallway. Some people have no damn consideration for others. Weren't there paper towels in the bathroom? Or at least a hand-dryer? There was no excuse for flicking water everywhere. He was going to file a complaint. He swore it. Already in a foul mood, he pushed the door to the boy's bathroom open with his foot, pausing when he noticed an older boy standing by the sink.
Ushijima Wakatoshi wiped his hands dry with a pocket hankie and folded it into his jacket pocket with the damp side facing inwards.
All thoughts of filing a complaint against the last two boys he had encountered flew out of the window.
Ushijima noticed him, turning to meet his gaze.
Slowly, Sakusa nodded.
Ushijima nodded back, then left the bathroom.
Perhaps it was inevitable, that they were to play as opponents in the same match not long after. Scorpio had mid-luck today, according to Oha-Asa. Sakusa stood strong and silent as Ushijima tossed the ball in air before running up.
A jump serve.
Sakusa's tongue poked out the corner of his mouth. He could taste the saltiness of his own sweat from his last match. It's coming this way. I got it—
The ball landed in his waiting arms, then flew to the side and out of bounds.
What? His brow twitched. Well, I thought I'd gotten it.
He didn't know how he hadn't noticed before, but Ushijima was a southpaw. A lefty. It was the first time Sakusa had encountered a player with a greater spin than him, and it lit a fire deep in his belly.
"Shake it off!" Komori, his cousin and his teammate and the only one his age who had paid him any attention before Midorima came along, encouraged. "We'll get the next one!"
"Yeah," Sakusa murmured and getting back into position. "I will."
In the end, they lost anyway. They had gone into the third set—Shiratorizawa versus Dosho—but they had lost anyway, 2-1. They had dropped the final set by three points. Three whole points. It burned like cold fire, but Sakusa didn't let it show, shaking hands with Ushijima at the net.
After the match, Komori wanted to buy a sports drink, so Sakusa found himself standing by the vending machine while Komori drank his Potari Sweat. "Maaaan!" Komori huffed. "It's so hard to bump hits from a southpaw!"
Yes, it was, wasn't it? But that was no excuse for either of them. They needed to work harder, work smarter. "... I need to do more bumps," Sakusa shared. He would get that damn serve. He would. He would. Sakusa couldn't fight off a grin as he faced Komori. "Let's practice our serve receiving!"
Komori looked mildly horrified. "How many? One thousand?"
"Two thousand," said Sakusa, still grinning, if a little more wickedly than before.
"Kiyoomi, I'll die."
"Don't be ridiculous."
"No, seriously, I'll keel over and die!"
Footfall sounded, and Sakusa turned around, his good mood and competitive spirit immediately vanishing. "Shintaro."
What was he doing here? And with Noriko of all people. Ever since Noriko had encountered Midorima for the first time last November, Midorima's attention had been devoted solely to her. Why? Why, why, why? Why's she so special? Sakusa glared. He couldn't even remember the last time he had hung out with Midorima, and the other boy lived next door for god's sake.
"You did good out there," Midorima said, Noriko nodding along.
"We lost," Sakusa said flatly. "Don't pity me like this, Shintaro. Save it for someone else." Like your girlfriend. She's pitiful, isn't she? Is that why you like her? God, why did she have to see us lose today? Noriko was the last person on earth he wanted to lose face in front of. As if she hadn't already robbed Midorima away from him. And for what? She may have appeared pitiful, but she was a schemer. Sakusa knew this.
"I'm not pitying you," Midorima told him, voice a little more frosty and a little more scornful than Sakusa was used to hearing. He was getting cold toward him. Sakusa told himself he didn't care. "If you came to that conclusion, I don't know how to help you."
"I don't even know you anymore. How can you expect me to think otherwise?"
In the backdrop, Komori watched with round eyes, sucking on his Potari Sweat bottle.
"Shintaro, Kiyoomi," Noriko interrupted. "Let's not fight, alright? We're all friends here."
Are we? Sakusa wanted to ask. There was a Noriko-sized wall between he and Midorima now. "Fine. I'm sorry." I'm sorry you ever came into our lives.
Midorima didn't apologize.
No surprise there.
Midorima never apologized.
Or maybe he used to, and and that version of him—I wanted to be just like you—had faded into the depths of Sakusa's mind.
xXx
A/N: Next up—the party and the funeral and maybe the wedding.