Sakusa examined the large collection of photographs scattered around the living room of Atsumu's grandmother's apartment while he waited for his teammate to finish changing into his travel clothes. He inspected the snapshots of Atsumu's grandma that were mounted inside a framed collage, marking her transition from a small child into a school girl, a blushing bride, a young mother, and a proud, grey-haired grandmother. Then his gaze fell upon a separate photograph of young Atsumu holding his grandma's hand while they stood in front of the Nippon Budokan in Tokyo. He was missing his two front teeth, Sakusa noticed. He was cute even then!

Atsumu stepped out of the bedroom he always used when he visited his grandmother and joined his friend. "Sorry I took so long. I couldn't find one of my shoes."

Sakusa turned to him and nodded. "That's alright. But we should get going now. Coach will be mad if we're late again."

"Okay. Let me just say goodbye to Baba." He gave Sakusa's hand a surreptitious squeeze, which caused all sorts of fluttering in his chest, then released it and turned towards the kitchen.

Sakusa started to follow him, then stopped. "Wait a second. What's this?" He pointed to an unusual wall decoration hanging beside the picture of Atsumu and his grandma. A stained handkerchief with a torn hem was mounted inside an elaborate golden frame. The square cloth had been spread out to its full size, though a trace of its original creases remained visible, like a raised 'X.'

"Oh, that?" Atsumu replied. "That's my Obaasan's most treasured possession. It's Ringo Starr's dirty handkerchief."

Sakusa tried to hide his expression of disgust, but based off of Atsumu's smirk, he failed. "You're kidding me."

"No, seriously, it's Ringo's old hankie," Atsumu insisted. "Or at least that's what Baba's always told me. She got it when she was a teenager. She snuck backstage at the Budokan the day the Beatles gave a concert there. Back in 1966, I think it was."

"She met one of the Beatles?" Sakusa challenged, raising his eyebrows in disbelief. "How did she ever manage that? I would have thought there'd have been guards everywhere."

Atsumu shrugged. "Dunno. But we don't have time to ask her now. We're running late, remember?" He dashed into the kitchen to kiss his grandmother goodbye, then ran back to the front door of the apartment and held it open for Sakusa. "After you, my good sir."

Sakusa rolled his eyes. "My, aren't we being formal today?"

Atsumu goosed him in response as he slipped through the door, then started walking towards the elevator at the end of the hallway. "C'mon! If we don't get to the gym in the next half hour, we'll miss the team bus and have to take the train to the game. Coach will have our hides."

"I'm comin', I'm comin'," Sakusa huffed. He ran ahead of Atsumu and pushed the button outside the elevator with his elbow.

XOXOXOX

"Alright, boys, gather round. We need to discuss our game plan for today's match," said Coach Foster in a commanding voice.

"We're just playing against a college in an exhibition game," replied Inunaki with a laugh. "The Tsukiji Technical Institute nerds will be too busy calculating the trajectories of their serves against the gravitational pull of the moon to actually play a proper game of volleyball."

"Yeah, and they'll send their setter to the corner of the gym each time they get the ball to record the room's temperature and barometric pressure too," added Tomas. "God forbid they should leave any open variables in their mathematical equations!"

"God forbid I should leave any players out of this match because they won't pay attention to me when I'm talking to them," retorted the coach.

"Sorry," mumbled Inunaki and Tomas in unison. They joined their teammates in a circle around their coach.

"Right!" shouted Coach Foster. "Now, first of all, let me remind you boys that Tsukiji Tech in a serious competitor. They were league runner-ups in the college division last season. Second of all—"

Coach's voice trailed off as he did a quick headcount of his team. "Damn! Where the hell is Bokuto?"

The boys scanned the corners of the locker room in unison, then looked back at their coach with matching baffled expressions.

"He was here a minute ago," Sakusa said after a brief moment of silence. "Atsumu and I were just talking with him."

Atsumu lowered his head and mumbled a curse under his breath.

"And just what were you two talking about with him?" Coach Foster barked.

Atsumu lifted his face and met his coach's accusing eyes. "Bokuto said…well, he was telling us he'd heard a rumor that the Physics Club at this school had built a time machine, and were hiding it somewhere in the basement of the building. I think…well, I'm guessing that maybe he went to look for it."

Coach rolled his eyes. "A time machine? You are kidding me, aren't you? Please tell me you're kidding me."

Sakusa shrugged. "I know it sounds stupid, but that's what Bokuto was telling us."

"Well, you two better go find that boy and bring him back to the locker room pronto!" shouted the coach. "And don't be taking your time about it! Our match is scheduled to begin in fifteen minutes!"

Sakusa and Atsumu exchanged nervous glances, then ran to the door of the locker room. "We'll find him!" they promised together as they exited the room.

Atsumu slammed the door shut behind him and looked up and down the hallway. "Where do you suppose he went?" he asked nervously.

"The stairwell is that way," Sakusa replied, pointing to the right. "Let's check out the basement first."

"Good idea," Asumu said with a nod, then he raced him down the hallway. At the end of the corridor, they pulled a quick left and found the stairwell. They flew down the steps, two at a time. Sakusa passed Atsumu at the bottom stair and turned into the narrow hallway of the basement. He immediately crashed into a janitor's unattended bucket, and sent its contents splashing all over the floor. Atsumu slipped on the soapy water and fell to the ground. The janitor's mop that had been propped against the wall crashed on top of him and hit his head.

"Oww!" moaned Atsumu. "That hurt!"

Sakusa extended his hand and helped him stand up. "C'mon! We only have about twelve minutes left to find Bokuto."

"Yeah," Atsumu grumbled. He squinted his eyes and noticed the silhouettes of two muscular men standing at the farthest end of the hallway. "Think that's him?"

"Mm-hmm," Sakusa replied. "I'd recognize Bokuto's hair anywhere. C'mon!"

They hurried down the corridor and found Bokuto staring in wonder at a tall young man wearing a Tsukiji Tech volleyball uniform.

"Hey, Bokuto!" shouted Atsumu. "Coach sent us to fetch you! The game is about to start!"

"But I found the time machine!" Bokuto exclaimed. "Jiro here says it's right inside this closet."

The man in the Tsukiji Tech shirt nodded. "That's right. That's where my physics professor told us to store it, so that no one from the Chemistry Club could find it. Those chem nerds are always trying to pull tricks on us and ruin our projects before the Science Fair season begins, so they can win all the top awards."

"Right," said Sakusa with a smirk. "So great, Bokuto, you've found the time machine. Now let's get back upstairs before Coach kills all three of us!"

"But don't you want to see it?" asked Jiro. "It'll just take a minute."

"No, we don't," Sakusa insisted. "We don't have any minutes to spare."

"But I could set the dials on the machine and send all of us back a half hour in time," Jiro suggested. "Then we'll all have time to get back to our locker rooms before the game, and neither of our coaches will be the wiser."

"That sounds perfect!" exclaimed Bokuto. He offered Jiro a hopeful smile.

Jiro smirked at him, then opened the closet door. "There it is!" he exclaimed, pointing to a boxy contraption dotted with knobs and lightbulbs.

"That's no time machine," Atsumu said dismissively. "That looks like something you rigged together with parts from a bunch of old VHS players, Walkmans, and toasters."

"Oh, ye of little faith," harrumphed Jiro. "Check this out!" He toggled a switch on top of the machine and set the lightbulbs lining the side flashing in pulses of red and green light.

"Cool!" squealed Bokuto. "Can you do that thing you said you'd do? Make the machine send us back in time by thirty minutes?"

"Sure," Jiro replied. "But you have to step into the closet for it to work."

"This is nonsense," Sakusa grumbled.

"No, it's not," Bokuto countered. He grabbed Sakusa's hand and dragged him into the closet with him.

"Hey, get back outside!" shouted Atsumu. But before he could pull his teammates out of the closet, Jiro pushed him into the small room, then slammed the door shut behind him. He jammed a key into the doorknob and locked the three men inside.

"You're a bunch of losers!" taunted Jiro. He banged on the locked door and laughed. "And with your team short three players, MSBY will be losing this match to Tsukiji Tech today too!"

Atsumu, Sakusa and Bokuto's hearts beat faster as they listened to Jiro jog away. Then they each let out a sigh.

"We are going to be in such big trouble when coach finds us," groused Atsumu.

"If coach finds us," Sakusa corrected him. "Nobody knows we're here but that idiot Jiro."

"They'll come looking for us," Atsumu said, a whisper of hope barely audible in his voice.

"Maybe after the first set," Sakusa moaned.

"Well, then that gives us some time to figure out how to use this machine," Bokuto said in a hopeful voice. "Maybe if we push the right buttons, we can travel back in time to before we ended up in this closet."

"Bokuto, I hate to tell you this, but this machine is just a piece of crap," Sakusa said. "That Jiro dude was just lying to you."

Bokuto stood up and ran his fingers over the surfaces of the machine. "I wonder how this works," he mumbled as he pushed the buttons and turned the knobs one by one.

"It doesn't work," Atsumu insisted. "Weren't you listening to Sakusa?"

Bokuto ignored them both and continued dinking with the buttons.

"Ow!" exclaimed Atsumu. "You just elbowed me!"

"Stop whining," Bokuto replied. "You get elbowed all the time during matches. You're a volleyball player!"

"Fine, so we're volleyball players," Sakusa said. "But we are volleyball players who are stuck in a small closet and—Oww! Now you stepped on my foot!"

"No, I didn't," said Bokuto as he continued with his task.

"Sorry, that was me," Atsumu replied. "It's kind of crowded in here."

Sakusa turned his head and saw Atsumu's face illuminated by the flashes of green and red light. He seemed to be offering him a sad smile.

Sakusa grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "Well, as long as we're stuck in here, maybe you can tell me that story about how your grandma got Ringo Starr's gross handkerchief."

Just as Atsumu started to laugh, Bokuto moved a lever on the machine. A sudden cascade of bright white sparks exploded into the darkness, and the closet was alight with energy.

XOXOXOX

When the final spark fizzled out, the closet was plunged back into darkness. The sound of the three men's nervous breathing filled the small, contained space.

"Oh, my God," moaned Bokuto. "I've broken the time machine!"

"You've broken the toaster-slash-VCR-slash-walkman machine," Sakusa corrected him. "But it was just a piece of junk cobbled together from broken parts anyway, so I wouldn't lose any sleep over it."

Atsumu reached for the closet door and turned the knob. To his surprise, the door opened, and a sliver of light shone into the small room. "You broke the lock on the door too!" he exclaimed. "So I'd say it was a science experiment gone right!" He pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway. Sakusa and Bokuto followed him.

Sakusa furrowed his brow. "This doesn't look like the basement of Tsukiji Technical Institute," he said hesitantly.

Bokuto glimpsed a calendar hanging across the hallway and broke into a wide smile. "Get a load of that! It's 1966! We just traveled through time!"

Atsumu and Sakusa frowned, but stepped closer to the calendar to inspect the date. "This can't be right."

"Hey, you three there!" shouted a man's voice from the end of the corridor. "What do you think you're doing?"

"Um, we're looking at a calendar?" Bokuto replied.

"You don't belong here!" the man exclaimed. He marched down the hall towards them, shining a flashlight into their faces.

All three men covered their eyes.

"Hey, put that down!" complained Atsumu. "You're blinding us!"

The man lowered his flashlight, allowing the boys to get a better look at him. He was wearing a policeman's uniform.

"Come with me!" the cop demanded. "I'll put you in a pen with the other juvenile delinquents who snuck past the guards."

"We didn't sneak past any guards," Atsumu assured the policeman. "You've got the wrong delinquents."

"Just shut up and come with me," the cop said, giving him a rough shove. He marched the boys down the hallway and turned the corner, then opened the door to a boiler room. A chorus of high-pitched screams rang out from the inside of the room. The policeman started shoving the boys into the room, one-by-one.

"Where the hell are we?" Sakusa asked the cop.

"You're in the basement of the Budokan," he answered with a sneer. "And you're going to miss the concert, I'm afraid. You should have stayed in your seats, like good little children. Now the show will go on without you."

A group of three girls wearing high school uniforms cried out in protest, their voices piling on top of each other's: "No! I need to see Paul!" "I want John!" "Let us see the Beatles!"

"Be quiet!" the policeman shouted back at them. "You'll stay here until your parents come to collect you! You had no business sneaking backstage past the security guards!"

"Please, please!" pleaded a round-cheeked girl with a red ribbon in her hair. "We just wanted to get autographs!"

The cop made a dismissive sound, then left the room, slamming the door behind him. The three girls started to sob.

Sakusa, Atsumu and Bokuto exchanged wary looks, then started whispering to each other.

"Okay, so this is seriously weird," Atsumu said. "I think that Jiro dude really did send us back in time with that machine."

"No, not Jiro," Bokuto protested. "I'm the one who pulled the lever. I sent us back in time!"

"But that's impossible," Sakusa replied. "There's no such thing as time travel."

"Oh, yes there is," Bokuto insisted. "I've read all about it in comic books."

Sakusa cast a quick look at the trio of school girls, then focused his gaze on the one with the red ribbon. He stared at her for a few seconds, then elbowed Atsumu. "Hey, that girl in the middle," he whispered. "She looks just like that photograph of your Obaasan that was hanging on the wall in her apartment."

Atsumu squinted at her, then shook his head. "No, that can't be right. My Baba is an old woman."

Sakusa took a step towards the girl and tapped her shoulder gently. She startled at his touch and ceased her sobbing. She looked up at him with eyes brimming with tears.

"Excuse me, miss, but what is your name?"

"Etsuko," she whispered. "Etsuko Nakamura."

"Ah," he said, offering her a smile and stepping back towards Atsumu. He turned to his friend. "So she's not your Obaasan, after all," he whispered. "She's got a different last name."

Atsumu blanched. "Nakamura was my Baba's maiden name," he mumbled.

"Oh shit!" Sakusa swore. "I think we're about to discover how she got Ringo Starr's dirty handkerchief."

"What?" Bokuto asked, raising his voice. "What the hell are you two talking about?"

The door to the boiler room opened again, and the cop pushed another teenage girl inside. She was dressed entirely in pink. Then the policeman shouted another threat to his prisoners and slammed the door shut behind him. The newcomer ran towards the other girls and started sobbing.

Sakusa put his hands to his ears. "This is crazy. Why are they so loud?"

"Because now we won't get to see the Beatles!" answered the new girl. "We won't get their autographs, and we won't even get to hear them sing!"

Atsumu rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "I wonder…" he said, his words trailing off. He turned to his friends with a quizzical expression. "Did either of you see a guard posted by the door when that cop threw us in here?"

Bokuto and Sakusa shook their heads.

"Then maybe we could just leave," Atsumu suggested.

"And risk having that policeman catch us again?" Bokuto challenged.

"What's he going to do? Call our parents?" Atsumu replied. "It's 1966. My folks haven't even been born yet!"

Sakusa chuckled and walked to the door. He turned the knob and found it unlocked, then opened the door wide enough to poke his head through. He looked back at the other inmates of the boiler room. "No cops in sight. Let's make a run for it."

The four girls screamed in unison.

"No, no!" Atsumu scolded them. "Be quiet, we don't want that cop to find us!"

They nodded in agreement, then waited while Sakusa stepped into the hallway to make one last reconnaissance scan of the area. He waved his arm at the others, and they followed him out of the room.

"Which way to the Beatles' dressing room?" asked the girl with the red ribbon.

"I think it's that way," answered the girl dressed in pink. "My uncle used to work as a ticket seller at the Budokan. He once gave me a tour of the inside of the building."

The teens tiptoed down the hallway and almost made it to the corner when the voice of the cop shouted down at them. "Hey, you! All of you! Put your hands in the air and stand still!"

"That's our cue to run," Atsumu replied.

"C'mon, everyone!" Bokuto shouted. "Let's get out of here!"

The boys took off at a fast clip, with the girls following behind them. Then the girl with the ribbon and the girl in the pink ensemble passed them and started leading the way. They turned another corner, and came face-to-face with a pair of security guards, standing in front of a door marked with the words, "No Admittance."

"And just what do you think you're doing?" one of the guards shouted at them.

The last two girls caught up with the faster runners, and they all crowded together in a pack, facing the guards.

"Please, sir," begged the girl dressed in pink. "Could we please just get the Beatles' autographs?"

One of the guards pulled a whistle from a string draped around his neck and blew into it, piercing the air with a high-pitched screech. The other reached for his walkie-talkie and started speaking into it.

The door they were guarding suddenly opened, and a large man with thick, horn-rimmed glasses poked his head into the hallway. "What's all this then?" he asked, speaking English.

"Oh, my gosh, it's Mal Evans!" shouted the girl with the red ribbon. "He's the Beatles' bodyguard! He played the long distance swimmer in the movie Help!"

Bokuto scratched his head. "What is she talking about?"

Mal smiled at the girl. "Well, hello there, miss. I don't usually hear fans shouting my name, even if they're surrounding it with other words I can't understand. What a lovely surprise!"

Another man poked his head out of the door in response to the commotion. The four girls let out squeals of delight.

"It's Brian Epstein, the Beatles' manager!" shouted the girl in pink. "He's the man who made them famous!"

Brian looked at her and shook his head. "Sorry, love, I don't speak Japanese either. What did you just say about me?"

Mal looked the group over and did a quick head count. "Well, there's only seven of them," he said to the security guard with the walkie-talkie. "Maybe we could let them in, just to say hello to the boys. They never actually get to meet their fans, you know. They spend all their time locked up in hotel rooms."

Atsumu exchanged a quick glance with Sakusa. "Did that tall guy just say we could come inside to meet the Beatles? My English isn't so good."

As if in response to his query, Mal Evans stepped into the hallway and held the door open. The policeman who had chased the teens earlier ran into the group, flanked by three other cops, but Mal shooed them away with a grand gesture. "These kids look harmless enough. I'll take care of everything from here."

The four girls ran through the door in a pack. The three boys followed at their heels. Mal laughed under his breath as he gave them a quick once over. "Nice threads, lads. Looks like you're going to some sort of sporting event, not a concert."

"Well, in truth, that is what we wish to do, sir," Atsumu said in his very best English. "That is, we want to make game against Tsukiji Technical Institute in afternoon today, but we travel to this basement in a toaster-time-device, and…"

The four girls screamed in unison, drowning out his explanation, as Paul McCartney entered the main room from a door against the back wall.

Paul looked at Mal and Brian and shrugged. Then he put his fingers to his lips and gestured for the girls to hush before he called over his shoulder, "C'mon, lads! The official Japanese welcoming committee has arrived. There are one-two-three…four lovely lasses here to greet us. One for each of us! And three lads dressed in funny jerseys and short trousers."

George Harrison stepped through the door behind Paul and looked over his shoulder. "Odd little get-up those lads are wearing," he agreed. "Those dark bands at their knees look a bit grotty. Though I do like their trainers." He stepped forward and smirked at Sakusa. "Nice shoes." Then he focused his gaze at Bokuto's hair and furrowed his brow. "Your hair is very…unique. Who's your barber?"

The four girls started shaking in unison like leaves in a storm, and let loose squeaks of joy as John Lennon followed George into the main room. He adjusted his glasses over his nose and smiled at the teens. "Kon'nichiwa!" he exclaimed with a bright smile.

Paul threw John a puzzled look. "Since when have you spoken Japanese?"

"Since yesterday, when I was sitting around the hotel room, bored to tears," John replied. "Thought I might as well pass the time doing something useful. So I worked my way through a beginner's book of Japanese from Berlitz. You never know when it might come in handy." He looked squarely at the girl with the red ribbon in her hair and asked, "O namae wa?"

"Etsuko Nakamura," she replied with a slight bow. Then she threw a worried look at the three Beatles and started to cry, "Ringo…Where is Ringo?"

"Don't get your knickers in a twist, love," George said. "Ritchie's just putting on his shirt. He'll be here in just a se—"

Ringo stepped into the room, fastening the buttons at the right cuff of his red shirt, and smiled at his guests.

Etsuko let out a loud gasp, then whispered, "Ringo…"

"That's my name," Ringo replied. He flashed her a toothy grin.

"I…I…I…" stammered Etsuko. Her knees went weak and she started to fall backwards.

"Obaasan!" exclaimed Atsumu. He stepped forward and grabbed Etsuko from behind before she dropped to the floor.

John Lennon gave him a snarky look. "Did you just call that girl, 'Grandmother'?"

"Don't be daft, John," interrupted George. "That bird's the same age as him. Probably younger."

"I think perhaps our John needs to repeat a lesson from his Berlitz textbook," teased Brian Epstein.

"No, seriously," John insisted. "Obaasan is the Japanese word for grandmother, and Ojiisan is the word for grandfather."

"Sure, John, sure," laughed Ringo. "If you say so." He took Etsuko's hand in his and gave it a small squeeze. "Are you alright, miss?"

"She doesn't speak English, Ritchie," piped in Paul. "She can't understand your question."

"I think Atsumu's baba is okay," Sakusa said on Etsuko's behalf. "She is…she is just…how would you say this?...very joyful to meet Ringo-san."

"As she should be," Brian said, patting Ringo's back. "I suspect this young lady is your biggest fan in Tokyo, Ritchie. But while I don't want to put a wobbly in all of our fun, I think it's about time we said goodbye to these lovely young people. You lads need to finish getting ready for your show."

The girl in the pink outfit pulled a small photograph of Paul McCartney out of the pocket of her skirt and handed it to the Beatles' bassist. "Onegaishimasu," she said as she made a gesture with her hand to indicate autographing the picture.

"She wants you to sign that for her, Paulie," John translated. "And she was very polite about it. She said 'please'."

"I bloody well know she wants me to autograph her picture," Paul said in an irritated voice. He grabbed a pen off a table top, signed the picture, and handed it back to the girl with a smile.

Ringo looked Etsuko squarely in the eye. Her face was still flush with excitement, but her eyelids had stopped fluttering. "Did you bring a photo for me to sign too?" he asked, making wild hand gestures as he spoke, as if he were playing charades.

Etsuko stared back at him with a baffled expression.

Sakusa leaned a little closer to her and translated Ringo's question for her.

Etsuko sighed and shook her head. "I did not bring anything with me," she whispered in a breathy voice. Two tears slipped down her cheeks as she spoke.

"In her exuberance to see and hear Ringo-san, Etsukosan forgot a paper," Sakusa translated.

Ringo made a face at him, then reached into the pocket of his trousers. "Well, that's okay, love. Autographs are easily lost. But you can have my handkerchief to wipe those tears off your face. It's torn at the hem, and smudged a bit from where I wiped my mouth on it at brekkie, but the spot can be our little secret. From my lips to yours." He placed the cloth in her hand and squeezed her fingers shut over it, then gave her the gentlest of kisses on her lips.

Sakusa winced as he watched, hoping that Ringo had folded the stained handkerchief properly.

"Oh, Christ, Ritchie! Stop being so forward with our fans!" scolded John. "You're going to make these nice young Tori think we have ulterior motives."

Atsumu turned his head towards Sakusa in confusion. "Did that guy just call us birds?"

"I think it's poorly translated slang," Sakusa replied. "To be honest, I don't want to ask."

Brian Epstein nodded at Mal Evans. Mal nodded back, then placed his large hands on Sakusa and Bokuto's shoulders. "It's time for you lot to get going now. You lads can make sure these young ladies get back to their seats properly, now, can't you?"

The group nodded and started walking out of the room. Etsuko cast a heartfelt glance over her shoulder as she approached the door and said, "Sayonara" to Ringo.

"That means 'goodbye'," John translated.

"I bloody well know what Sayonara means!" Ringo shouted at him as Mal closed the door behind them.

The guards standing in the hallway threw matching stern looks at the group of seven.

"Well, you rule-breakers had best be on your way now," said the taller of the two men. "I hope you know how lucky you are. The police wanted to arrest you, but instead, those long-haired, English singers invited you into their dressing room!"

Etsuko looked up at him with a beatific expression. "Yes, we know, sir. We are very lucky indeed."

"Well, off with you then!" commanded the smaller guard. "Get out of here!"

The players and the schoolgirls bowed to the men, then the girl in pink said, "I will lead the way. I know the fastest route back to the concert hall."

The others fell in line behind her, but when they reached a corner, Sakusa placed his hands of Atsumu and Bokuto's shoulders to hold them back. "We don't have tickets to the show, so we'll have to leave you now," he told the girls.

The girls smiled at the boys and wished them goodbye. Atsumu reached out his hand and clasped Etsuko's. "Maybe I'll see you later," he said, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"Yes, that would be nice," she replied with a smile.

The girls continued on their way along the corridor, while Sakusa led his teammates down a smaller hallway. "I hope we can find that closet where we came from."

"I hope we can make that time machine work once we get there," Bokuto added in a nervous voice.

Atsumu cast a quick look over his shoulder to make certain the girls were out of sight, then sighed. "This has been a very weird day."

"You can say that again," Sakusa replied.

Atsumu met Sakusa's eyes. "This has been a very weird day."

Sakusa let out an exasperated laugh. "Shut up. C'mon, I think the closet was this way."

After wandering down a labyrinth of corridors, the boys finally found a closet that stood across the hall from a familiar-looking calendar. They hesitated for a moment, then turned the knob on the closet's door and flung it open. Inside the small, dark room stood a strange contraption that seemed to be cobbled together from a rusted movie projector, a broken reel-to-reel tape recorder, and an old refrigerator with rounded corners.

"It looks like our time machine traveled back in time too," Atsumu said with a sigh.

"Yeah, but how are we supposed to make it work?" Sakusa asked.

"Let's get inside the closet, then I'll pull the handle on the fridge," suggested Bokuto. "It looks kind of like that lever I pulled on the other machine."

"Well, here goes nothing," said Sakusa. He stepped into the back of the closet to make room for Atsumu and Bokuto.

Bokuto pulled the handle. Nothing happened.

"You were right," Atsumu agreed. "There went nothing."

Bokuto rubbed his hands over the strange machine, pushing every button and switch he could find to no avail.

"Maybe we should thread some tape through the sprockets of that reel-to-reel," Sakusa suggested.

"Or some film through the sprockets of the projector," Atsumu added.

"Do either of you know how to do that?" Bokuto asked.

"No," they replied in unison.

"Well, then there's only one thing for it," Bokuto said. "You two need to work some magic."

"Huh?" asked Sakusa.

"How the hell are we supposed to do that?" chimed in Atsumu.

"With true love's kiss," Bokuto said. "That always works in the old-fashioned movies, and we're putting all our hopes in an old-fashioned movie projector."

"We're also putting our hopes in an old-fashioned tape player," Sakusa countered. "And an old-fashioned refrigerator."

"Oh, ye of little faith," Atsumu laughed. He wrapped his arms around Sakusa. "Kiss me, you idiot."

"In front of Bokuto?" Sakusa said nervously.

"C'mon, guys, go ahead," Bokuto laughed. "It's so obvious to everyone on the team that you two like each other."

"It's dark in here. He can't see us," Atsumu assured his friend. He slipped his fingers through Sakusa's hair and pulled his head towards his, then met his lips with a passionate kiss.

The machine started to sputter. Then sparks flew out of the projector's lens and a flood of energy swirled through the closet.

XOXOX

Atsumu's dropped his arms down to his sides and stepped backwards.

"Ouch!" exclaimed Bokuto. "You just stepped on my foot!"

"Sorry," Atsumu mumbled. He turned around, trying not to bump into either Bokuto or Sakusa, and put his hand to the door of the dark closet. To his great relief, the handle turned. He flung the door open, and light from the hallway flooded over the boys.

"We're back!" shouted Bokuto. "We're in the basement of Tsukiji Technical Institute again!"

Sakusa looked up and down the hallway. "I think you're right. There's that janitor's bucket! But it's still upright, and there's no puddle on the floor. I wonder…"

"You wonder what?" asked Bokuto.

"Does anyone have a watch?" Sakusa asked. "We've been gone for a long time. Coach Foster is still going to kill us when we get back to the locker room. We've probably already missed the first set."

Atsumu looked up and down the hallway, then pointed to a round object hanging on the wall near the bucket. "That looks like a clock. C'mon. Let's go check it out."

Sakusa ran ahead of him and reached the clock first. His face broke into a wide smile. "We're a half-hour early! Just like that loser Jiro promised we would be if we traveled through his time machine!"

"Maybe Jiro wasn't a loser after all," Bokuto suggested.

Sakusa locked eyes with Atsumu. "He will be – after MSBY wipes the gym floor with Tsukiji Tech! C'mon, boys, we've got a match to play!"

The three boys grinned at each other, then ran back together to their locker room to rejoin their team.