A story I'll be pouring my heart into. Expect pain, tears, and angst. It's one I've been meaning to write for a long time and just never knew how. God only knows by it had to take the form of a Haikyuu fic.

Warnings: Lots of gay, but if you're in this fandom, you're into that anyways. OOCness.

Notes: Hinata is a character that's incredibly difficult for me to write because I'm such a solemn writer. Please bear with me. He'll become something beautiful in the process.

Enjoy

It must be nearing the wee hours of the morning when the door to his room creaks open ever so quietly, ever so subtly. Azumane Asahi startles badly and the black ink gel pen he's writing with falls to the floor with a clatter that wouldn't have been quite so loud, had it not been for the fact that the previous several hours had been filled with fulsome, deathly-quiet silence.

It is still quiet, aside from the sound of a writing utensil hitting the ground. The figure that comes to stand by his side makes no noise as he moves, feet barely brushing the ground; he seems to float over, if anything.

Azumane blinks a few times, trying to will his sleepiness away. At his desk next to the window -which, much to his surprise, shows a rising sun- he shifts uneasily and turns around in his swivel chair to come face to face a rivulets of blood.

"I-" They try to explain, but Azumane is having none of it. He shakes his head firmly and stands up, guiding the shorter figure by the shoulders to one of the three empty cots he has in the humble geddup he has going on.

"You don't need to explain anything."

There is silence again as the coat is tenderly taken off of the figure, extra care given to the heavily injured right arm. A soft hiss of pain pierces the thick of the silence, but other than that, the two are comfortable with one another.

"Asahi-san."

"Nishinoya." He responds, getting up and turning his back to his patient -only for one, painful second- in order to gather the materials he needs to tend to the wound.

"I'm sorry." The smaller one says. His voice is small, uncharacteristic of him, and he cannot meet the larger's eyes.

Azumane turns back around and with a wet cloth, gingerly begins to wipe away the dried, clotted blood from the pale skin. "I am too." He says.

It takes a few swipes, a few tries, but eventually, Azumane can see skin again, having taken off the blood. It is torn messily, but not horribly, and he decides that really, he doesn't want to ask what kind of weapon could have shredded -not cut- his arm in such a strange fashion. "This will burn a bit," Azumane warns and he holds Nishinoya's hand as he pours hydrogen peroxide over the open wound.

Nishinoya's hand clamps around his like a vice, or a foxtrap, both viable given the amount of force the tiny fingers possess, and Azumane repeats the process two more times. The doctor's face is impassive, but his stomach is doing cartwheels and acrobatics.

So often in medicine, pain was the most critical indicator of the initiation of the healing process, a strange and demented paradox.

"Are you o-" Nishinoya begins with a weak laugh but is severely cut off when Azumane turns his face to meet his steeled eyes.

There are so many things wrong with the question.

For beginners, it was one that was never asked in this room let alone in the world they had decided to partake in. Everyone knew that no one was ever "okay," in even the slightest sense of the word. Pain was a ubiquitous, but necessary evil that they had to endure, but that didn't mean adding salt to the wound was necessary. And so the silly question never slipped past any pair of closed lips.

Besides that, Nishinoya is the one with the ripped up arm, and Azumane is in one, whole piece, so the former is really in no situation to worry about anything other than his own well-being.

Nishinoya, realizing his fumble, shuts his mouth and watches as his caretaker pulls out a needle and surgical thread, along with a pair of tweezers.

"Are there bullets still lodged in your arm?" Azumane asks.

"No," comes the swift response. "I took them out myself. Don't like the idea of that," Nishinoya gestures with a jerk of his chin in the general direction of the tweezers, "poking around inside of this."

The tweezers are put back into the drawer from whence they came.

"Let me do it." He whispers.

Azumane furrows his eyebrows together and freezes up for a moment. "You want to stitch your own arm up?"

In the silence, he finds his answer but-

"No." He answers, though not as firmly as he would have liked. "It's harder on you to-"

"Please."

And he supposes that's that, so into the smaller man's hands the needle and thread go while the rolling chair is brought to the bedside so that the actual certified doctor can see and supervise what the reckless mafioso is doing to his own arm.

Nishinoya is surprisingly good at needlework, although he finds it slightly ironic that Azumane seems to be in more pain than he is, watching him poke at himself repeatedly.

It takes all of twenty minutes, at the end of which, Azumane releases an enormous sigh of relief and begins cleaning up after them. He puts a large gauze pad over the stitched-up wound and wraps it up nicely, admonishes the littler one not to push himself too much, and gives him a prescription for painkillers (which Azumane knows he will lose, so he makes a mental note to do something about that too).

"I just feel like sometimes it's harder on you than on us." Nishinoya admits, throwing his banged-up jacket into the trash bin in Azumane's office.

I feel like sometimes you're right, is what the doctor wants to say, but he doesn't. He's learned that Nishinoya is one of the few people who understands what he does not say more than what he explicitly verbalizes.

He takes his hair out from his bun and lets it fall to his shoulders, running a hand through it. "Perhaps," is the route he opts to take. "Though if anything, it's just the fact that I feel like the villain here that makes it so difficult."

The other's mouth opens to protest vehemently, but the Azumane stops him.

"I know, I know." He laughs half-heartedly; it is empty. "But if you really think about it, I'm only here to fix you up so you can wreck yourself out there again and perpetuate a vicious cycle. There are people who hate me for it, and it's okay if you're one of them."

"I know it's hard, trying to heal a sick world that won't admit to its wounds, but I hope you never forget why you started, and that there's value in your work, Asahi-san."

Typically, the littler one is all smiles and unbounded energy, but the incredibly focused look in his eyes is one that Azumane is acquainted with as well.

When he leaves, his footsteps make no sounds like they had done before, as expected from a mafioso in the Karasuno Family. Strangely enough, Azumane feels that the room has become so much louder with his departure, despite the fact that there are less people in it.

"Nishinoya Yuu will be taking a leave for three days, as per Azumane-san's request. His arm was badly injured and he shouldn't be running around for, really, two to three weeks, but Nishinoya insisted."

Ukai Keishin makes a quiet tch sound as he hears the report come filtering in through the small cracks between the office door and doorframe. The blinds to his windows are drawn and shut, but at 9 in the morning, the sunlight is already starting to stream in, highlighting the small dust particles floating around in the stuffy room. The air is stagnant here.

He opens a day old plastic water bottle and turns it upside-down above his head, revelling in the cooling sensation as it hit his face and hair. Ukai crumples it in his hands and throws it in the trash bin as he slips his usual hair band on and lights the cigarette in his mouth.

"Troublesome." He calls back to the secretary who is waiting for him to get dressed right outside the door to his room. They have settled into this familiar pattern.

Kiyoko wakes him up at 8:45 every morning and gives him his daily reports as he gets presentable for the day. Vaguely he wonders who wakes Kiyoko up, but her life seems so put-together and spick-and-span that it gives him a headache to think about it.

"Does Azumane have anything else to say?"

Ukai pulls a well-ironed, white button-up on, right arm through the right sleeve first, and then the left. As it settles on his shoulders, the large, colorful tattoo of a dragon over his powerful back and shoulder blades is covered up. He picks, as always, a plain black tie with his plain black coat and plain black dress pants and is ready within a matter of minutes.

"Nothing else for today."

Ukai opens the door, steps out, and closes it behind him. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting," he apologizes, as he always does, when he steps out, still fixing the buttons on his left wrist.

"It's not problem at all," Kiyoko prompts. Ukai extends his arm and she has it done in a jiffy. His secretary fixes his collar and smooths some dust off of his shoulders. "Let's get this day started, shall we?"

"I've lost visual on the target," comes the crackling voice through Tsukishima Kei's headset. The blond closes his eyes for a brief moment and leans back in his black swivel chair, taking in a deep sigh. The bright green numbers of the digital clock to his left are the only source of light in the room other than the four computer screens he has panned out in front of him.

"Tsukishima?" Comes the prompt.

He pinches the bridge of his nose and opens his eyes, albeit still squinting. How long has be been without sleep? Thirty-two hours, perhaps maybe more? Tsukishima suits back up and fixes his receiver. "I'm on it." He says quietly. His pale hands go to the keyboard in front of him, intelligent eyes scouring the screens in front of him. "Let me take a look. It might be a minute, I need to hack into the city's surveillance-"

"Daichi, he just ran through the 56th and Idlewild's intersection; headed in a south-southwesterly direction."

"Thanks Sugawara." The connection on one of the four ends goes mute, and Tsukishima knows Sawamura is in hot pursuit of their target, having received information from their sniper.

"Are you holding up alright, Tsukishima?" Comes the tender question.

Just peachy, is what Tsukishima would really like to say, but Sugawara is one of the few people who very rarely irk him, so he supposes he should be civil to the sniper. "I'm… I'm fine." He settles for that.

"I know it's hard on you, but we'll wrap this up soon and then you can get some well-earned rest. For now, please hang in there."

"Don't pamper him," comes a new, familiar voice through his headset.

There are only two people who are plugged into every last communication system in Sawamura Daichi's quadrant, and those two people are none other than Tsukishima Kei and Ukai Keishin himself. Tsukishima oversees all of the technical hullabaloos -hacking, guiding, tracking- while Ukai oversees literally everything. They are two of the most important people in the Karasuno Family.

"He's still growing Ukai-san; he shouldn't be going so long without sleep." Sugawara pipes.

"He wouldn't be here if he wasn't willing to lose a few hours of sleep, am I right Kei?"

"Of course," he answers promptly. The wrath of his boss was one he didn't want to incur at this moment. "Please don't worry about me," Tsukishima keeps his voice impassive and unreadable. "You should focus on supporting Sawamura-senpai."

Ukai mutes his end, seeing that everything has been taken care of.

The entire debacle had started yesterday in the ungodly early hours of the morning, perhaps around a quarter past four. Nishinoya Yuu had gone alone to collect the money a certain individual had owed the family -seeing how Tanaka Ryuunosuke, the other debt collector, had been occupied with something else at the time- and normally this wouldn't have been a problem, but Nishinoya had come back severely injured and without any knowledge of where the scoundrel had run off to.

There was talk that Nishinoya might not be able to use his arm anymore.

It was unlike anyone under Sawamura's command to do such a sloppy job at anything. He and Sugawara were currently on the field, hunting the rat down, while Tsukishima was providing backup from headquarters.

"I see him." Tsukishima hears Sawamura tell the other three. In the meantime, Tsukishima has finally gotten a proper visual on both of his senpais as well as the target, having successfully breached the city's surveillance system's cameras. "Permission to apprehend?"

"Break a leg." Ukai says coldly. "And both of his, while you're at it. Try not to kill him though."

All four of them keep their communication systems on and audible during this portion of any job, just in case any of them need to shout something quickly.

Sawamura Daichi is such a boring individual, Tsukishima thinks to himself absentmindedly as he watches the mafioso draw a handgun from behind the wall of a large building, just out of eyeshot of the target. He's so orthodox, with a strange sense of morality for someone who works in the underground.

When he spins around, both hands on his weapon, posture impeccable, the target startles and draws his own weapon. A revolver, the blond thinks, though he can't say for certain; the camera quality really does suck.

"Drop your weapon," he hears Sawamura say calmly. "I'm not here to hurt y-"

The revolver fires, but the bullet hits the building close to three feet away from where Sawamura is standing. The target must be trembling badly for his aim to be off by so much. Sawamura doesn't so much as blink.

"Last warning."

Tsukishima frowns as he sees the target on screen change his poor posture and lower his weapon, only to bring it to his head.

Poor thing, Tsukishima can only scoff at the scene. But… this is perhaps the wisest course of action. The Karasuno Family, though one of the less terrifying families out of the four that ran the city, was still plenty terrifying once its wheels were in motion.

The blond suddenly hears loud screaming on Sawamura's end and the revolver goes flying from the target. "My hand! Shit! My hand, m-"

"Please finish your job, Sawamura-san," Sugawara seems to tease. The sniper has shot the weapon out of the target's hand, and Tsukishima, taking in a sharp inhale, reminds himself not to irk the silver-haired mother figure. What terrifying accuracy.

Sawamura puts his handgun away and promptly runs up to the target, much to the latter's panic. They spin around and attempt to flee, but the target has been on the run for as long as Tsukishima has been awake and the Sawamura has gotten a full night's rest- there is no competition. Swiftly, with a knee to the stomach and a chop to the back of the neck, the target is apprehended.

"Ukai-san," Sawamura brings his hand to his right hear, not in the least out of breath. "Mission successfully completed. No injuries or casualties. The target's right hand has been grazed, but nothing's broken."

"Bring him back, boys." Comes the immediate response. "You did well. Tsukishima, call in Kageyama."

"I'm already on it." The hacker is contacting the raven right now.

Ukai cuts the channel and all communication is severed between the four, at least temporarily. A brief nap wouldn't hurt anyone, right, Tsukishima asks himself against his better judgement. Alone in the control room, he stretches widely and yawns, no longer fighting the strain of his eyes as he allows them to slide shut….

"... shima! Tsukishima!"

The blond starts awake and nearly falls from his chair, embarrassed but mostly shocked.

Swift hands shoot out to steady him and somehow catch him before he loses all sense of balance. The culmination of this mad and awkward scramble is a tangle of long limbs, and once Tsukishima Kei successfully blinks away the last vestiges of sleep, he meets eyes with the person who frightened the living daylights out of him.

"Uhhh." He sees a heavily flushed and freckled face approximately five inches away from his, unable to keep eye contact with him.

"Yamaguchi!" Tsukishima pushes him away -gently- and dusts himself off. "What," he clears his throat and attempts to conquer his pounding heartbeat, "are you doing here?"

"Ah! Ano," he fidgets, obviously painfully uncomfortable. "Uh, Kageyama's here!" He blurts out, turning his back to the blond, trying to hide his reddening face. "Ukai-san said he'd last talked to you over an hour ago but you hadn't checked out and I knew you were probably in the control room since that's where you usually are and so I offered to go get you and-"

Tsukishima tries and fails to stifle the laugh he can feel welling up from within him at the ridiculous sight of the freckled boy gesturing wildly with his hands in a panicked frenzy. "I see," he grabs the coffee, which has gone cold by now, next to his computer monitors and his keys and clipboard; his headphone are always hanging around his neck. "Thank you," he smiles.

The latter's blush deepens even more, if at all possible. "N-No problem! You should probably go see the boss though! He seemed kind of irritated…"

Like a small animal… Tsukishima thinks to himself absentmindedly as he studies Yamaguchi's face. "Of course. I'll be on my way."

He hurries out the door, leaving both Yamaguchi and the control room behind as he speeds through the corridors to find Ukai-san's office. I need to stop drinking so much coffee, the blond reprimands himself as he throws it into the first trash can he can find. I'm feeling warm inside… Am I going to have heart attack? His heart rate won't fall.

Kageyama notices three different things all at once as soon as the door to Ukai-san's spacious office opens- maybe four.

Sawamura-senpai's grip around his silver-haired counterpart's waist tightens, pulling him away ever so subtly away from the newcomer. With this, Kageyama's own counterpart -an orange-haired fiery newbie by the name of Hinata Shouyou- jumps away from the doorway, constantly on edge. Ukai-san takes the cigarette from his lips and puts it out. He's irritated.

"Tsukishima, where've you been?" The boss asks, clasping his fingers together beneath his chin.

The blond bows deeply, a gesture that makes Kageyama narrow his eyes. "I'm sorry. I guess I fell asleep in the control room and…"

"Forgot to report?" He finishes for him.

"Ukai-san," Sugawara, mother hen that he is, tries to step in and vouch for him. "Like I said-"

"Sugawara-" Sawamura tries to reel him in.

"Daichi!"

"Enough. He might be younger than you but he has just as much responsibility." Ukai fixes Suga with a glance. "He has more, in certain areas. Tsukishima, you've kept Kageyama waiting for about thirty minutes, so how you deal with him is up to you. Besides that, we have a newcomer, so why don't we try, for the love of God, to show him something other than how dysfunctional we are."

Everyone in the room feels a chill down their spine.

"This is Hinata Shouyou." Kageyama Tobio gestures with his left hand. "We're not sure which department or specialty he'll be in yet, but he'll be shadowing me for the next two or three weeks."

The orangette seems very anxious to say the least. He's pale, sweating, with pupils dilated and hands clutching at his stomach. He's hiding behind the raven and visibly shaking. And he's jumping at everything. "P-P-Please take care of me!" He bows.

Should someone like this really be working for the mafia? Kageyama thinks distastefully.

The door opens again, and this time another two people walk into the office. The atmosphere, as if it wasn't already heavy enough, becomes crushing.

"Kiyoko, nice timing." Ukai stands up brushing himself off. "How are th-"

The two people who have walked in are both ravens, like Kageyama. Kiyoko, Ukai's secretary, is as intimidating as ever. Clad head to toe in black, she has as much presence as either Ukai, or his second in command, Sawamura. Kageyama literally feels Hinata trembling behind him.

The other is… surprisingly normal. Or at least, Kageyama would think of him as a normal person if he didn't have such an incredible impact on their boss.

"Takeda-san, Kageyama, Tsukishima stay." Ukai sighs deeply. "Everyone else out. Kiyoko, please stand by the door to make sure no one else enters."

The female nods wordlessly and makes sure to usher the rest of them out the doorway. Hinata seems to want to stay close to either Sugawara or Kiyoko; they are probably the most receptive of the entire family.

"I'm so sorry to drop by unannounced Ukai-san," Takeda fumbles a little. He looks disorderly, disorganized; a bit ditzy. Kageyama does not see him very often. Ukai always asks that everybody leave when he pays them visits. Tsukishima is the one that works with him the closest, as they both work in intel.

Not that I care…

The man is dressed in a hurriedly-put-together business-casual get up and so normally, Kageyama would disapprove of him as well, but the manner in which the boss treats him… as well as the strange, steely look he always has in his eyes is what truly convinces the raven that Takeda is indeed, in the right place.

"It's not a bother at all; if anything, it's perfect timing. Tsukishima needs to give me his report, so I can hear everything at the same time." The stern lines of anger and disappointment seem to melt away cleanly from the family head's countenance, replaced by a tender smile.

Takeda opens to his mouth to continue with the necessary formalities but he goes into a coughing fit instead. Everyone else is accustomed to the lingering smell of nicotine and other nameless, combustible objects but Takeda is not. He's smaller, not very well-built, and if it weren't for his stubbornness and intellect, he probably wouldn't be very well-suited for the underground.

Loosening his tie a bit and rolling up his sleeves, Ukai stands up and slides the window behind him open. The air is crisp and clean, carrying with it the smell of rain.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Ukai waves the apology away, as if he doesn't want it. "Tsukishima, let's hear what you have to say."

The hacker shuffles the papers on his own clipboard, but more efficiently, and he does a quick once-over of them.

"The target's name is unknown. I'll be doing a full background check and match-up later tonight. However, he's a well-built brunette who seems to be in his mid-twenties. His weapon of choice was a revolver, but Sugawara-senpai examined it and found that it wasn't fully loaded; the logical conclusion is that he engaged someone before Sawamura-senpai apprehended him." More shuffling of papers. "180 pounds, 5 foot 8 inches tall, calloused hands, like he's used to using them, more so than the average mafioso. He's tattooed so I believe he's affiliated with some group but… it's not with any of the Big Four."

"Hell if he was," Ukai narrowed his eyes. "None of the Four Fathers are idiotic enough to start a gang war, though the Fukurodani Family's boss's intellect is questionable."

"I'll be bringing you more information tomorrow morning." Tsukishima says, beginning to pack up his papers.

"No you won't."

"Pardon, sir?" He balks.

"You're staying home and sleeping." Ukai says as if he's spending a long time mulling over this. "Sugawara's very worried about you, you know."

"Sugawara-senpai is always worried about everyone, and I'm perfectly-"

"Kei." Ukai rubs his shoulder stares at him. "It wasn't a request. You need to rest."

The blond represses the desire to tsk in front of his boss. "I understand."

"You should leave now." Ukai urges. "I'll have Takeda-san send you everything."

Against his usual countenance, Tsukishima finds himself getting rather upset. All of this talk of going home and getting rest is nice and even flattering, but there was also the babying aspect of it, and Tsukishima Kei was not fond of being looked down upon.

"Just do as he says why don't you?" Kageyama suggests, albeit sharply, dryly.

Without another word, Tsukishima bows and leaves the room in a whirlwind of irritation.

"Why is he always like that?" The raven asks, not having been fond of the blond since day one. He knew his own temper wasn't exactly the best but there was something so cold and calculating about Tsukishima that Kageyama could never stand it. The unsaid battle of I'm better than you loomed heavy between the two whenever they so much as entered the same room.

"It's just how he is. He tends to neglect himself when he gets invested in something, so that's why Suga is always doting after him." Ukai tsks and scratches the back of his head. "I've put Yamaguchi in the hallway where Tsukishima's control room is to keep an eye out for him but you can imagine how that's gone."

"Ukai-san seems very scary but in reality he's very kind." Takeda observes with a small smile playing on the ends of his lips.

Ukai clears his throat fights the urge to fidget.

Kageyama rolls his eyes.

"What am I looking for?" Kageyama tries to recenter the topic of the conversation. "During the interrogation, I mean."

The boss seems to cogitate on this for a few brief moments, hand going to his chin. "The usual. Who he is, who he's under, and why he did it. Any other information you can get should be written down."

"Should I take Hinata with me?"

At this Ukai sighs. "It's your call."

"With all due respect Ukai-san, why is he here?" Kageyama feels the pressing urge to ask. He has never doubted the resolve of his boss. Ukai is smart, reserved, and has a cool-head when it's crucial; he is also endlessly kind to his family and likes to take care of people in his own way. Having someone who would only drag the family down however…

"What do you make of him, Kageyama?"

"Me?" The raven blinks and frowns, thinking on it for a moment. "Frail. Easily spooked. Should probably be working as a preschool teacher or something, not as a mafioso."

Takeda laughs a little. Ukai smiles at this.

"He's inexhaustible for one." The blond lists off on his fingers. "Excellent reflexes. Definitely wouldn't lose in a shootout, if he could stomach it. Eager." There is a pause. "There is potential. You know what I'm talking about, don't you Kageyama?"

An overly excited puppy that could learn how to bite if taught well enough… But he doesn't dare say it aloud. "Of course."

"Well then, get going. And if you decide not to take the shrimp, put him with someone so he doesn't give himself an anxiety attack."

Kageyama looks from Ukai, to Takeda, back to Ukai again. "I understand." He bows. "Thank you."

He exits the office and closes the door behind him quietly. With a deep sigh he starts making his way down the corridor, shooting Hinata a quick text. Behind him the gentle voices of Ukai and Takeda filter through the cracks in the door; he pays them no mind.

I'm going to the interrogation room, the raven types out quickly. Come watch if you want. If not, stay with Sugawara-senpai.

He turns off his phone and proceeds to do just that.

Ah, Iwaizumi Hajime thinks to himself solemnly. That guy… He's such a solitary figure.

It must be around noon when he wakes up. He registers somewhere in the back of his mind that it's Wednesday, his most favorite day of the week, because Wednesdays are the only days that Oikawa will take off. If Oikawa hadn't woken him up early, it was because they didn't need to go to work.

Iwaizumi takes a deep breath and rolls over onto his back on the soft surface of the bed. The morning is cold so he flounders for a moment before yanking the covers over his shoulder. But something is off. The blankets are cold. His eyebrows furrow together just a little.

"Oi, Shittykawa." Iwaizumi throws an arm over his face, successfully having sprawled himself out over the bed. "How long have you been up?"

He can only see the brunette's back and the subtle shift of his shoulders from under the thin t-shirt he's wearing. Oikawa gives a grunt in response, the typical I don't know.

Iwaizumi gets up from the bed, stretches for about twenty seconds, and heads to the kitchen. They say no more to each other, not because it isn't wanted, but because it isn't needed.

He puts on the coffee and starts making breakfast as he observes his boss from the corner of his eye.

March is his least favorite month of the year. He's not too sure why; it just always has been. The air is cold and nips at the face but the sun is always out without a cloud to hide behind. Looking out the window brought false hope of warm weather, always dashed as soon as fingertips felt the cold temperature of the clear windowpane.

Oikawa gets this intense look in his eye whenever he gets absorbed in his work. He doesn't blink at all, like everything he's done so far will go to waste if he doesn't pay enough attention to it. His posture slouches and he curls up into a little ball when it gets cold, like he's doing now. He'll pay attention to the computer screen and the papers sprawled out across the desk in front of him, but will neglect the goosebumps on his arms.

"Your off days are never off days," Iwaizumi comments, putting a blanket over Oikawa's shoulders as he sets breakfast and coffee on the large table.

Oikawa doesn't blink, but simply moves with both hands to pick up the coffee. He drinks it black, dark roast without anything added- how, Iwaizumi will never be able to fathom.

Iwaizumi stops trying to have a normal conversation and instead opts to hold him for just a little from behind, him standing, Oikawa sitting. Normality might been something he craved, but that was the price of happiness- his kind of happiness anyways. The comfortable silence is something he's come to find solace in too.

"One of Karasuno's men was shot pretty badly yesterday." Oikawa finally breaks the silence, sipping at his coffee.

The first coherent word you say to me this morning is about that stupid Family, Iwaizumi feels his irritation pique, but quells it rationally. "Oh?"

"Arm. I guess it was done intentionally. Ukai isn't going to let it just sit, I think."

"What will you do about it?"

Silence; and then: "I'll wait."

Iwaizumi watches as Oikawa shifts and gets back into position to start his work again.

"You won't eat?"

"I'm not hungry," comes the brusque reply. Iwaizumi needs to steel himself so he doesn't flinch a little at it.

The awkward silence is shattered as Oikawa's phone blares from beside the nightstand, buzzing loudly. "Let me get it," Iwa says and walks over.

"This is Iwai-" He holds it up to his ear.

"Kindaichi hasn't come in today." It's Yahaba, curt and to the point as always. There are covered razors in the edge of his tone, sharp and able to cut.

There is nothing wrong with this idea is what Iwaizumi thinks at first; people came in late all the time- traffic, fever, forgot to feed the cat- but this is Kindaichi, the understudy of the family, eager to prove himself in every area.

Plus it's shitting noon.

"I understand."

Yahaba hangs up with that. He can be lighthearted when he wants to, but a serious Yahaba is always something that makes Iwaizumi nervous.

"Did you hear?"

"I did," Oikawa swivels around in his chair, eyes looking at something Iwa can't see. "I wonder what it means."

"Who says it has to mean anything?"

"It could mean something."

"Please eat something. It's almost lunchtime and you haven't even had breakfast."

Oikawa blinks his large, honey colored eyes and thinks this over. Is he surprised? Vaguely, the second-in-command wonders how anyone can just forget to take care of themselves the way his boss does sometimes.

"Alright."

The college professor blinks a few times in mild confusion as he stares at the top of his desk in the classroom. The class is scheduled to start at half past one, so how anyone could have gotten into the hall without the key -which was on his person at all times- was beyond him. As far as the professor was aware of, the door had definitely been securely locked before he unlocked it himself.

"This is strange," the elderly man laughs a little. He is of shorter stature but gentle, and of a kind demeanor. "Do you know anything about this Kozume?"

There is a rustling beside him as the college student shuffles to put his phone away in his backpack. "Pardon? I'm sorry I was just-"

Kozume Kenma shivers a bit, wrapping his scarf around his neck a little bit tighter. They're inside the lecture hall on the west side of his college campus, but no one uses the this hall frequently, and thus it has an abandoned, uninhabited feeling. They are the only two here as of now, and the chills are getting to him.

All he had wanted was to get this class over with. Kenma typically showed up to classes early; he liked sitting in the front so he could get to know the professors and take notes attentively. People usually didn't like to sit right next to him when he showed up early. But this wasn't what he had had in mind.

On top of the professor's desk is a large bouquet of assorted flowers; daisies, spider lilies, roses, chrysanthemums. The small card next to it spells out in immaculate handwriting: Kozume. In smaller lettering on the bottom: 'Kuroo.'

The pudding-head feels heat crawl into his cheeks. "I-I apologize," he stammers, going quickly to collect his gratuitous gift. "I'll go put this in my dorm a-and-"

"No such thing," he old man gestures as if waving the thought away. "It's cold outside and your dorm is all the way across the campus. Leave them under my desk and you can take them with you after the lecture is done."

Kenma half-heartedly thinks about protesting, but finds he doesn't have the willpower to defy the command. This professor was one of the few he genuinely enjoyed, and still one of the fewer that understood his day to day bouts of anxiety. It was his psych professor after all.

"Thank you," Kenma bows a little and does as asked.

"An admirer, then?" He begins shuffling his papers around, getting ready to teach. "I remember my college days."

"Hardly," the student buries his face in his hands. "Just a joke, I think."

"Ah, I wouldn't be too sure." There is a soft pop as the cap of the expo marker comes off so the professor can begin writing on the whiteboard. "Feelings are powerful things. Don't take them lightly. Besides, this is right about the age when romance becomes powerfully appealing."

And so Kozume Kenma passes his afternoon, conversing lightly with his psychology professor, taking notes and living his day life as a college student.

It sounds like honey.

Or, this is what Bokuto Kotaro thinks it sounds like anyways. Honey isn't something people typically listen to, he knows, but its the only way he feels he can accurately describe it: smooth, mellifluous- golden.

Bokuto doesn't like music all that much. It's nice, of course, but he knows he's no connoisseur. When it comes to artists and composers, he can name Beethoven and that's about it. Genres… Pop? Classical? Maybe?

Good music is recognizable when heard, however, and Bokuto is most definitely hearing it.

The gray-haired gang leader sighs a little and smiles a tiny smile as he slides down the wall with his back pressed to it, listening to the notes comes filtering through the cracks of the closed door behind him. Like this, he spends a solid fifteen minutes on the hardwood floor with his back touching the door, relishing in the music of Akaashi Keiji.

Bokuto wonders how anyone's fingers can be that nimble, and he desperately wishes he had the privilege of unabashedly watching Akaashi play his violin in all of his perfect glory. The runs are smooth and fluid, intonation flawless.

He knows he does not know much about music, but honestly, no one has to know much to understand that Akaashi is a demigod in his own right.

Then he sneezes, suddenly and without warning.

Bokuto holds his breath immediately afterward, realizing his egregious error.

The playing stops abruptly and the gray-haired male curses under his breath a little.

"... Who's there?" Comes the question from within the room.

He debates whether he should reveal himself or just make a fucking break for it.

"Please come in." The shuffling of approaching feet and the sound of a hand on the doorknob answer his question. "Bokuto-san?" The door creaks open.

"Hey, Akaashi!" He starts a little, eyes darting left and right, up and down, everywhere and around- except at Akaashi. "I-I was just, err, I walked by a-and I-" Bokuto fumbles a little.

"If you wanted to listen, all you had to do was ask," Akaashi says tenderly with a knowing glance. "You shouldn't have sat out here on your own."

What he should have been doing was researching the incident of an attack on one of Karasuno's men yesterday; instead, he had heard the sound of a violin from the other hallway and had been immediately enraptured. It wasn't fair really- stopping and listening hadn't been so much of a rational choice as it had been a biological command.

"I didn't want to interrupt you," Bokuto admits sheepishly, still unable to meet the level eyes of his boss's son.

"Too late now right?" Akaashi asks, turning around to re enter the room, obviously expecting the gang leader to follow him back in. The other flinches a little, despite knowing there had been no ill-intentions in the comment. "Why don't you-"

When Akaashi Keiji turns around he's standing alone. The raven blinks a few times, then goes to close to door again and resumes practice.