Kenma watched them unload the large truck from behind the curtain, the thick threaded fabric concealing her presence from the outside eye. It was borderline creepy–she knew how it looked–but she couldn't help but be curious.

Her supposed "best friend" was just outside, after all.

(But he wasn't. He was nothing but a stranger, a child, just like her. He was nothing to Kenma and she was nothing to him. This wasn't like the beige-printed pages with ink that paved out a story. She wasn't him. She was something completely different.)

Silver eyes met gold and Kenma flinched back from her perch on the window sill and ducked out of view, embarrassed. She had been caught in the act by the thing she was stalking, and she hoped he hadn't truly seen her.

She had been waiting for this, anxiously. Waiting since the red sign that had been staked into the dull grass was taken away. Waiting since the moving trucks began to make their rounds to and from the once empty house.

No longer would it be so.

(She wondered what would happen if she avoided them–him. If she never made contact. How would things change? How would things be different, more so than they already were? What would happen?

She ignored her thoughts, as she always did.)

The change that she could feel pulsing in the air was approaching, almost pulling her towards something unseen. Something unavoidable.

The clock was ticking; and at seven years old, Kenma's world was just beginning to move.


A knock; a shuffle; a creak; followed by a hesitant greeting.

The small boy wrung his hands on the hem of his jacket as he peered into the large doorway he stood in front of, nerves sending visible quivers down to his knobbly knees. He moved to grip the coarse fabric of his father's pants, seeking some form of comfort; ignoring the small voice in the back of his mind that told him he was too old to be acting that way.

"My name is Kuroo. We just moved in next door." His father's words came out warm, friendly; introducing himself to their new neighbors. (It was polite, he had told him that morning when he had questioned why.) The boy tuned out the words exchanged and looked past his father's form, towards what would be the newest enigma in his life.

Small, cat-like eyes met his own steadily, and he quickly looked away from the intense gaze; unable to hold it any longer. The boy scoot closer to his father, perspiration forming above his brow.

Kenma blinked as the boy shied away and she wondered.

He was not at all how she had expected him to be. The image she had held in her mind was faint, but it did not resemble the overly reserved child that stood a few feet in front of her. The word "shy" was not one she would have used until today.

But the dark, naturally untamed mess upon his head was quite unmistakable, Kenma thought.

A slender, gentle hand squeezed her shoulder and she glanced up, "Introduce yourself." Her mother smiled, encouraging; gesturing towards the small cowering boy. (Somehow, somewhere, Kenma felt like she already knew him.)

"Hi, I'm Kenma. Kozume Kenma." Last name first, she reminded herself. She awkwardly waved a small hand towards the child, unsure of how to deal with him. She had never been good with–fond of children; which of course, was quite ironic. She had been one twice, after all. She just always felt somewhat incapable in their presence; overwhelmed.

(She found that she didn't feel that way much anymore, though. She was content.)

"Kuroo… Tetsurou." His voice was small, wavering. He wasn't necessarily scared, just nervous. She could understand. Being in a completely new place, forced to be around new people and new things everyday; she knew. She knew very well.

(A strange house. A strange family. A strange body. She didn't know where she was. She didn't know why.

She often asked whatever god was up there what she did to deserve this.)

"I believe you two are around the same age." Kenma's mother clapped her hands together, looking between the two. The tall man nodded, attempting to pat down the permanent cowlick on Tetsurou's head.

It sprung right back up.

"That means you two have to get along, hmm…!" The adults chuckled to the unseen joke as the children made eye contact once again, and Kenma felt herself sigh.

(The path that had once been paved for the person that was Kozume Kenma turned, yet she decided she'd keep going straight.)


Kenma found that her life lately was much, much more interesting than it had been before. And by interesting, Kenma meant that she actually found that she had things to do.

Living the life of a child without the mentality of one had always been exhausting, boring. She could never do what she truly wanted, hindered by short limbs and underdeveloped motor skills. And so, she always took up her time by playing the few video games that caught her interest or reading or drawing.

It was definitely getting old.

(Spiky black hair filled her vision and there he was, standing hesitant in the doorway.

She smiled.)

But this, this was new. This was something that made her feel her physical age at times. More comfortable in her skin, some may say.

"I play, uhm, Mario sometimes. On a gameboy." Kuroo Tetsurou replied to Kenma's question, awkwardly; if only to fill the silence that permeated. It had been a few weeks since the Kuroos settled in, and his father had dropped Tetsurou by; requesting that he could be left in the Kozume's company instead of being home all by himself. Of course, Kenma's parents were ecstatic.

("This will be good for you, Kenma. Someone your own age to be around." Her father chided, ruffling up her hair as she swatted away his hands. "He seems like a nice boy."

Kenma shrugged, indifferent. She honestly felt hesitant in meeting him. What if she messed up? What if she's not enough? What if he knows-

"Sure, okay." She walked away.)

"I don't have any Mario games, but I have Virtua Fighters." Kenma explained, gesturing towards her console connecting to the small tv. The eight year old shifted on his knees where he sat, undoubtedly slightly uncomfortable. She could say the same for herself, this being their first proper meeting and the two having been coerced off to go "play something upstairs". She felt bad.

"Okay." He nodded, having no idea what the game mentioned was. Kenma sighed and pressed a few buttons, holding out a small white controller towards Kuroo. He took it with small, uncertain fingers and settled back down on the ground beside her; subtly glancing back and forth between her and the tv screen.

She started the game as Kuroo fumbled with his grip, "So you use the top two buttons to swing and block." She demonstrated as her pixelated character moved to her instruction on the grainy screen, "You use this to move around, and this to jump." Kenma patiently showed him all of the controls and he eventually got the hang of it, the two of them playing a few rounds with Kenma beating him every time. She was an expert at it, after all. It's not as if Kuroo had two lives worth of practice playing video games like she did.

(She always seemed to find herself somehow forgetting just how different her mind truly was–)

Kuroo looked to be getting more comfortable as time moved on, but she could tell that his nervousness was still evident. The routine that formed between them dissolved most of the unseen tension, thankfully. But still, she knew this wasn't exactly what Kuroo had in mind for a "playdate" with his next door neighbor. He was fully an elementary school boy, craving physical exertion in sports and games; though through his shyness, wouldn't express it.

Kenma, on the other hand, would rather not. She wasn't the type for all of that. But yet, she knew it was inevitable. She knew full well of that. But if she could hold that–the thing she so avoids–off for as long as she could, she would be happy. Content.

(The white and green ball that she would see later that day, sitting innocently in the gravel of the drive in front of the Kuroo's house, mocked her with everything it had.)

So Kenma continued the game and mentally savored the days she had left before the unavoidable.

(A thought. A creeping, ever repeating thought plagued her mind in a constant rhythm. Repeated so often it became stale, old.

Everything just always had to end up revolving around volleyball, huh.)


(a/n)

yoo second chapter done. again, let me know if there are any mistakes or even just questions on anything at all. much is appreciated.

thank you to all who have read so far. it truly gives me motivation to continue this story.

(re-reading haikyuu and am being consumed with haikyuu brain rot. help.)